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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38654-8.txt b/38654-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15cbf45 --- /dev/null +++ b/38654-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3788 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Great Opera Stories, by Millicent Schwab +Bender + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Great Opera Stories + Taken from Original Sources in Old German + + +Author: Millicent Schwab Bender + + + +Release Date: January 23, 2012 [eBook #38654] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT OPERA STORIES*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 38654-h.htm or 38654-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38654/38654-h/38654-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38654/38654-h.zip) + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text in italics is surrounded by underscores (_italics_). + + + + + +[Illustration: THE MARKET PLACE IN NUREMBURG] + + +Everychild's Series + +GREAT OPERA STORIES + +Taken from Original Sources in Old German + +by + +MILLICENT S. BENDER + +Illustrated + + + + + + + +New York +The Macmillan Company +1935 + +All rights reserved + +COPYRIGHT, 1912, +By the Macmillan Company. + +Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1912. +Reprinted March, 1913; June, 1915; January, September, +1916; November, 1917 July, 1931; November, 1935. + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + CHILDREN OF KINGS 1 + + HAENSEL AND GRETEL 35 + + THE MASTER SINGERS 57 + + LOHENGRIN, THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN 101 + + THE FLYING DUTCHMAN 137 + + TANNHÄUSER, THE MINSTREL KNIGHT 156 + + + + +GREAT OPERA STORIES + +[Illustration] + + + + +CHILDREN OF KINGS + + +I + +Once upon a time, in a lonely glade between high mountains far, far +above the World of Men, there stood a hut. It was a miserable, +tumbledown, little hut, and the mosses of many summers clung to its +sloping roof. It had a bent stovepipe where its chimney should have +been, a slanting board in place of a doorstep, and just one, poor, +little, broken window. + +Yet it was not its forlorn appearance alone that made the hut hide +behind the shadows of the grim forest, far away from the sight of man. +It had more, much more than that to be ashamed of. For a hideous Witch +lived there,--and with her, a Goosegirl. + +They lived alone, those two,--the Goosegirl, with the joy of youth in +her heart; and the Witch, unmindful of joy or youth, thinking only of +magic and evil and hate. While the Goosegirl had been growing from +babyhood to girlhood, from girlhood to womanhood, dreaming and wondering +and wishing,--she knew not what,--the Witch had been trying to make her +as ugly and as wicked as herself. But try as she would, the heart of the +Goosegirl was so pure that evil could find no spot in it to lodge. As +for her face, each passing year left it lovelier than the last. The +sunshine was no brighter than her yellow hair, the sky no bluer than her +clear blue eyes. The lone lily before the hut envied the whiteness of +her skin, and the birch tree in the woods, the slenderness of her form. + +Now it chanced upon a sunny afternoon in summer that the Goosegirl lay +on her back in the long grass before the hut. Now and then she tossed a +handful of corn to her quacking geese or played with a wreath of wild +daisies. But her thoughts were far away. Her eyes were full of the +wonder of things,--of the sun that shone, the brook that laughed, the +flowers that bloomed, the birds that sang, and the blue sky over all. +And her dreams were full of the World of Men, which she had never seen +and to which she longed to go. Something within her whispered that +happiness was to be found there, and the Goosegirl desired happiness +above all things. And she desired kindness and love, too, although she +had never heard of them, and did not know what they were. + +As far back as she could remember, ever since she was a tiny little +child, the Goosegirl had lived in the wretched hut. And the hideous +Witch had been her only companion. The Goosegirl wondered whether all +the people in the World of Men had such gruesome bodies, such ugly +faces, such evil ways, as the Witch. She had never seen any one else, so +she could not tell. For fear of the Witch no one had ever come that way. +Winter and summer, summer and winter, it had always been the same. + +The Goosegirl's dreams were suddenly interrupted by the hoarse voice of +the Witch. + +"Where are you, good-for-naught?" came from the doorway. "Idle, I'll be +bound, when there's work to be done!" + +The Goosegirl turned her eyes toward the figure of the Witch, and, +familiar as it was, for the thousandth time she shuddered with disgust. +The crooked back, the burning eyes peering out from under the tangled +hair, the rags, the ugliness,--oh, must she always stay? She arose +slowly and walked toward the door. With hands outstretched she begged +the hideous creature to set her free and to let her go down to the World +of Men to seek for happiness. + +"I will never become a Witch," she implored. "Oh, please let me go." + +The Witch's crooked mouth widened into a horrible smile. One yellow +tooth stuck out. + +"Not make a Witch of you, indeed! Wait and see! I'll bend your proud +back!" Then brandishing her cane, she muttered savagely: + +"Get to work. There's bread to knead!" + +The frightened Goosegirl ran for bowl and flour, and set to work. +Meanwhile the Witch took out some dark powders. She mumbled strange +words over them, and while the Goosegirl, with busy hands but unseeing +eyes, kneaded and kneaded and kneaded, the Witch poured the powders into +the dough. Poor Goosegirl! Her bread was soon finished, but it was a +foul-smelling bread, and it contained enough poison to kill a dozen men. + +Soon afterward the Witch, chuckling fiendishly, took up her basket and +hobbled away to the grim forest. But the Goosegirl, full of horror for +the deed she had been made to do, sat motionless, staring straight +ahead. Would her life never, never change? With a sigh she called to her +geese and wandered back to her place in the grass. Ah, that there should +be so much evil in such a beautiful world! She looked at the dancing +shadows of the fluttering leaves. They were beautiful. There was beauty +in the thin, blue line of smoke as it climbed lazily upward from the +broken chimney. Two turtledoves cooed above her head. The sunlight +shimmered upon the wings of the buzzing bumblebees and made them shine +like gold. All, all was beautiful. Were people the only ugly things? The +Goosegirl gazed toward the World of Men far, far below, and wondered. + +Presently her fingers, wandering idly over the grass, found the wreath +of daisies. Idly she placed it upon her head. + +"Look at me, geese!" she cried. "Look at me! Am I ugly, too?" + +With the geese at her heels, she ran swiftly toward the pool and peered +earnestly into its clear depths. Her hair hung in long golden strands on +each side of her face, her eyes shone like stars, her cheeks were +flushed. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed happily. "I am beautiful! Geese dear, I am +beautiful, very beautiful!" And she gazed and gazed again. + +Suddenly a song broke the silence. The Goosegirl started. For it was a +song of youth and joy, the like of which she had never heard before in +all her life. + +Then, down from the mountains, out of the woods, straight to that lonely +glade, came a youth, a ragged youth, but a noble youth, with a sword at +his side, a bundle on his back, and a smile on his lips. His bearing was +so proud, he looked so straight ahead, with eyes both fearless and true, +that the Goosegirl held her breath as he halted before her. + +"Hey, pretty Queen of the Geese," he said. "How goes the world with you? +Have you no greeting for me?" + +The Goosegirl continued to stare, saying nothing, her eyes wide with +wonder. Finally she found her voice, and in a whisper just loud enough +for him to hear, ventured timidly: + +"Are you a man?" + +"From top to toe!" exclaimed the youth, and laughed. How he laughed! He +threw back his head, his white teeth gleamed, and the distant hills rang +with the joyous sound. Even the Goosegirl was forced to smile at her own +ignorance. + +Such merriment soon made them the best of friends, and before long, +seated side by side in the grass, the youth told the Goosegirl whence he +had come and whither he was roving. + +A King's Son was he, of noble name and fortune. High up among the +mountains stood his father's castle, and there, amid the luxuries of the +court, he had been reared. But when he had grown old enough to wander, +the luxury had palled, the court life had fettered his free spirit. "Up +and away!" cried a summons from within his heart. And so, while no one +watched, he had stolen forth, with naught but a sword by his side, a +bundle on his back, and a song on his lips. And he had wandered over +the mountains, through the valleys, up and down, in and out, in search +of adventure. + +The Goosegirl heard the marvelous tale to the end. Then in faltering +tones, but with shining eyes, she said slowly: + +"Oh, that I might go with you!" + +The youth smiled scornfully. + +"King's Son and beggar maid!" exclaimed he, shaking his head. But as he +looked into her face he stopped short. + +The nobility of her expression, her simple beauty, drew him nearer. Ah! +this was no beggar maid. There was something regal in the pose of that +golden head, the glance of those clear blue eyes. What a companion she +would make for now and forevermore! He forgot the rags, he forgot the +geese, he forgot the hut. + +"Have you courage?" he asked, gazing at her searchingly. + +In answer she placed her hand in his. So he took off her wreath of +white daisies and placed it within his jacket, close to his heart. And +he opened his bundle and drew forth a golden crown, which he placed upon +her head. Then crying: + +"Up and away!" he led her to the edge of the grim wood. + +At that instant, however, the sky began to darken with rushing clouds. +Broad flashes of lightning blazed forth, thunder rolled, and the wind +blew furiously through the trees. The geese flapped their wings in +terror and gathered about the Goosegirl. She stood still, staring before +her in fear. She was turned to stone. She could not move. Her feet were +fixed to the ground. + +"What makes you stand so still and stare?" cried the King's Son. + +"Oh, I am afraid!" answered the Goosegirl. "I cannot go! I am +bewitched!" + +"Fear is but shame," declared the King's Son, angrily. "You have lied to +me. You are not fit to wander with a King's Son. You are only a beggar +maid, after all." + +Then, overpowered by his wrath, he made ready to go, adding: + +"Farewell. You shall never see me any more. No, never again, unless a +star from heaven falls into the lily yonder." And pointing to the lone +lily by the door of the hut, he rushed into the grim forest and was lost +to sight. + + +II + +The Goosegirl, saddened, disheartened, hid her golden crown and dragged +herself wearily into the hut. The hideous Witch, returning with her +venomous load, soon followed. And evening came. All was still. But for +the thin column of smoke rising from the stovepipe one would not have +known that any life was there. + +Just as the golden edge of the moon peeped over the eastern mountain a +loud song burst upon the air. And a moment later a Fiddler, clad in +leather jacket and boots, appeared, emerging from the grim wood. He +strode forth boldly as befitted an honest man who had nothing to fear. +Seeing the miserable, tumbledown hut with its smoking chimney, he +stopped. + +"Ah, ha!" cried he. "Here's the journey's end." Then, looking back into +the woods and waving his cap, he shouted at the top of his voice: + +"Come on, Master Wood-cutter. Come on, Master Broom-maker. Here's the +Witch's den. Come on!" + +And Master Wood-cutter and Master Broom-maker came on. But how they +came! They slunk out of the woods in fear and trembling, teeth +chattering, knees shaking, eyes bulging. They took but one look at the +tumbledown hut and then made for the nearest tree, behind which they +cowered, shivering from head to toe. + +"Not so loud! Not so loud! Master Fiddler, please. She may hear you," +they protested. + +"Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!" laughed the Fiddler. "Don't you want her to hear +you? What did you come for, then, pray tell me?" + +And so he half dragged, half pushed, the two cowardly braggarts toward +the Witch's door. + +"You may knock first," said the polite Broom-maker through his +chattering teeth to the Wood-cutter. + +"No, indeed. You may have the honor," responded the Wood-cutter, and his +knees knocked together as he bowed. + +Since there was no way out of it, the Broom-maker moved toward the door. +He tapped once with the knuckle of his forefinger, gently, like a little +mouse. Then in a wee, small voice, he said: + +"Good wife, won't you buy a broom?" + +No answer came from within the hut. + +Emboldened by the silence, Master Wood-cutter joined his comrade at the +door of the hut. Then he, too, rapped a little bit, just like a penny +hammer. + +"Most honored wise-woman!" he whispered. + +But no answer came. All was as still as before. + +"There's no one at home," said both at once. And they strutted boldly to +and fro, grinning from ear to ear. + +"Stand aside!" said the Fiddler. + +He pushed them away and strode toward the door. With his clenched fist +he banged once, twice, thrice. And he lifted his voice. My, what a voice +it was! The very woods rang with the sound of it. + +"Witch! Hag! Foul woman!" he shouted. "Open the door!" + +There was a moment's silence. But presently the door creaked on its +rusty hinges, and there stood the Witch, in all her ugliness, leaning +upon a cane. + +The Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker gave her one glance and then, +stricken with terror, they fled as fast as their legs could carry them +to the first tree. There they waited, trembling and quaking, to see what +the dread creature would do. They would not venture out, no, not they. +They had wives and children to care for, and it was no business for men +of their kind. No, indeed! + +Meanwhile the Witch was croaking in her awful voice: + +"Who comes here to my hut in the woods? Hey, fellows, what do you want?" + +"What do I want?" mocked the Fiddler, who had bravely stood his ground. +Looking at her calmly, he dropped on one knee, with a comical smile: + +"Ah, fair dame, those red, red eyes and that one yellow tooth of yours +have made me sick with love and longing. Listen to my suit, I pray." + +The Witch looked at him in surprise as he rose to his feet. Could it be +that he was not afraid of her? He looked her straight in the eyes, +fearless and brave. So she scowled. He smiled. She shook her cane. He +laughed. Well! Well! Her magic was powerless against a man like that. +Let him tell his tale and be gone. + +So it came to pass that the Fiddler called the Wood-cutter and the +Broom-maker and bade them state their business. But they bobbed and +scraped and hemmed and hawed and chattered and giggled so long that the +Fiddler had to come to the rescue. + +The King of the World of Men had died, and since the King's Son had run +away and could not be found, there was no one to rule the town of +Hellabrun. So the people had sent the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker to +ask the Wise-Witch what was to be done. They wanted a ruler straightway +and did not know where to find one. + +The Witch pondered long, frowning savagely. Then she told the +Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker to go back and tell the people that the +first person who knocked at the town gate at noon on the morrow would be +worthy to wear the crown. + +Pleased with this prophecy the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker hurried +away through the grim forest toward the town of Hellabrun in the World +of Men. + +But the Fiddler did not go. He had caught a glimpse of a golden head and +a pair of blue eyes at the window; and the sight of one so fair in such +a hut told him that there was work for him to do here. + +"Why do you stay?" snarled the Witch. The Fiddler gave her a sharp +glance. + +"I'm setting a snare for the little golden bird that you keep in the +hut." + +The Witch started. She clenched her fist wrathfully, but her eyes fell +before his steady glance. + +"Let out the golden bird," sang the Fiddler, cheerily, "or I will go in, +I will go in." + +The Witch looked this way and that. She could not meet his eyes. +Muttering savagely, she hobbled toward the door. A moment later she +dragged forth the trembling Goosegirl. + +The Fiddler was amazed. Such beauty! Such pride! She was fit to sit upon +a throne! + +"Who are you, maiden?" he asked. "And how came you here?" + +Slowly and sadly the words fell from the Goosegirl's lips. She knew not +who she was. The Witch had told her to call her "Grandmother." More than +that she could not say. + +The Fiddler's eyes traveled from the Goosegirl to the hideous Witch and +back again. This fair maid kin to that foul creature! No, no, it was not +possible. + +As if divining his thought, the Witch wagged her head maliciously and +sneered: + +"No, she is no kin of mine. But worse, far worse. You may know all. A +hangman's daughter is she; that's it, a hangman's daughter." + +"It is not true," shouted the Fiddler. Then turning to the weeping +Goosegirl, he cried: + +"Believe her not. Look at your hands, girl, your white, white hands, and +your hair, your golden hair. There's nobility in your face. Believe in +yourself, and you will sit beside the King's Son on a throne. Be not +afraid. Pray, girl, pray!" + +The Goosegirl fell upon her knees and lifted her eyes to heaven. Her +voice rose from the depths of her being and cried out to the mother and +father whom she had never seen. Her golden hair covered her like a +mantle, her face was radiant. Still kneeling, she held her crown of gold +toward heaven and prayed to God for help, for guidance, for strength. +And as she prayed, a shining star shot from heaven, downward, downward, +straight into the lone lily by the door of the hut. + +The Goosegirl uttered a cry of joy. Putting the crown upon her head, she +arose, exclaiming: + +"I'm free! I'm free! I'm free!" + +Then, followed by her geese and the Fiddler, she rushed into the grim +wood toward the World of Men. + + +III + +When morning dawned and the grim wood with all its terrors lay behind +the King's Son, he came at last to the town of Hellabrun in the World of +Men. Weary and footsore, faint from hunger and thirst, yet dauntless +still, he stopped before an inn near the town gate and begged for work. + +"I would earn an honest penny," he said, "to buy my daily bread. Have +you any work for me?" + +The innkeeper, who was a rough, ill-natured fellow, smiled with contempt +as he looked upon the white hands and noble face of the youth before +him. So he declared gruffly: + +"All I need is a swineherd!" + +"A swineherd!" The voice of the King's Son echoed the loathsome word, +while a look of disgust overspread his face. But only for a moment; +then, quick as thought, came the vision of the Goosegirl, so sweet and +fair despite her humble calling. "All work is noble to those that are of +noble mind," thought he. His hand stole to his heart and touched the +wreath of white daisies there. + +"I will be your swineherd," he answered sturdily. + +Then he seated himself beneath a tree to await the orders of the +innkeeper. + +Now it happened to be a day of great excitement in Hellabrun, and as the +morning wore away, a chattering, restless crowd of people--men, women, +and even little children--assembled in the market place. With eager eyes +they scanned the two soldiers who, armed with long spears, stood on +guard before the closed and barred town gate. + +There were lean men and fat men; men in rich clothes and men in rags. +There were tinkers and tailors, soldiers and sailors, and their wives +and their sweethearts. Here were wise doctors in black gowns, there +gray-bearded counselors leaning upon canes. Wee babes in arms crowed and +laughed, boys romped, girls danced. And all awaited the noontide hour +and the coming of their King. + +"Will he ride upon a snow-white charger?" asked one. + +"Nay, he will be carried aloft, seated upon a golden throne," replied +another. + +"His robes will be of richest velvet," said a third. + +"And a jeweled crown will be upon his head," said a fourth. + +"Perhaps a beautiful queen with ropes of pearls about her neck will sit +upon the throne at his side," ventured a fifth. + +"Tell us again what the Wise-Witch promised," called one from the crowd +to the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker, who were strutting proudly to +and fro. + +Nothing loath, Master Broom-maker and Master Wood-cutter pushed their +way to the front of the admiring crowd. Then they stood with heads high, +chests stuck out, feet wide apart and arms waving, and told their story +for the fiftieth time. And since with each telling the story had grown +and grown, it was a marvelous tale, indeed. + +They told of the grim forest and the many dangers through which they had +passed before they arrived at the Witch's den. + +"The woods were full of lions and tigers," said the Wood-cutter. + +"But I felled every one with one mighty blow of my broom," said the +Broom-maker. + +"And an ogre with fiery eyes sat behind each tree; and a dragon snorting +steam held guard before the den of the Witch. But we feared them not. We +slew them all. We went so boldly forward that the Witch quaked and hid +herself in fear when she saw us coming." + +"'Tis not truth that you speak," cried out a young voice, and the crowd +fell back amazed at the sight of the King's Son. Who was this ragged +fellow who dared to interrupt the thrilling story? Down with him! And +they beat him with their sticks and pelted him with stones and called +him names. But just as they were about to drive him from the market +place the town clock struck the hour. + +A sudden hush fell upon the crowd. The people stood still. With eager, +expectant faces turned toward the gate they waited, while the bell +pealed forth its twelve long notes. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! + +It was noon! + +The guards pulled out the long bolts. An excited murmur came from the +crowd. Then all was still, as still as before. The guards turned the +huge knobs. The door swung on its hinges, and there stood--a Goosegirl +and her flock of geese. Her feet were bare. Her dress was tattered and +torn. But her shining hair covered her like a mantle, and a golden +crown was upon her head. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes, glowing as from +an inner light, sought among the sea of faces, and found that of the +King's Son alone. Then, with arms outstretched, she walked slowly toward +him, crying softly: + +"I have come to be your Queen." + +Queen! The breathless crowd stared in amazement one moment longer. Then +the amazement gave way to laughter, the laughter to anger, the anger to +fury. + +"Ha-ha-ha! This is no queen!" they shouted angrily. "We have been +fooled. This is only a Goosegirl. Strike her! Beat her!" + +The King's Son enfolded the Goosegirl in his arms. + +"Stop!" he cried to the mob. "I am a King's Son, and she is my Queen." + +"Listen to the ragged fellow!" shouted the people. "He says he is a +King's Son! Ha-ha-ha! Stone them! Hit them! A Swineherd! A Goosegirl! +Drive them out! Out! Out!" + +And so the King's Son and the Goosegirl were driven away from the town +of Hellabrun, and the angry people returned in disappointment to their +homes. Only one little pure-hearted girl lingered at the town gate and +gazed with eyes of faith after the fleeing pair. When she could see them +no longer, she fell upon the ground and wept and wept. + +"Why do you cry, little girl?" she was asked. + +"Oh, that was the King," she sobbed--"the King and his bride." + + +IV + +During all the long summer days the King's Son and the Goosegirl +wandered over hill and dale, through field and forest, far away from the +World of Men. And the King's Son shielded the Goosegirl with his love +and brought her berries to eat and the skins of wild animals to rest +upon, and was gentle, oh, very gentle! And the Goosegirl made the King's +Son glad with the sight of her beauty and the sound of her light-hearted +laughter. And they were happy with a happiness that surpassed all that +they had ever felt or dreamed. + +But then autumn came. The wind moaned piteously through the trees, +driving brown leaves in whirling gusts before their eyes. Winter +followed, covering the grim woods with a mantle of shining white. Their +clothes were thin. Their feet were bare, and it was cold--bitter, bitter +cold. So they wandered on and on, day after day, until at last, faint +with hunger, sick with despair, they came, all unknowingly, to the +lonely glade between the high mountains where the Witch's hut stood. + +The hideous Witch was no longer there. Because they believed she had +prophesied falsely, the infuriated people of Hellabrun had burned her at +the stake. Only the Broom-maker and the Wood-cutter were in the +miserable tumble-down hut; while out in the grim forest were the Fiddler +and the one pure-hearted little girl, seeking, ever seeking, with eyes +of faith for the rightful King and Queen. + +With steps that faltered, and eyes half closed, the King's Son and the +Goosegirl crept into the glade. Tottering feebly, hand in hand, they +approached the door of the hut, and knocking, begged for shelter, for +food, for drink. + +The face of the Wood-cutter appeared at the window for a brief moment. +Blinded by his distrust, he saw only two beggar children before the +door. + +"Away with you! We have naught to give," he shouted as he slammed the +broken shutter. + +Hopelessly, sadly, the King's Son bore the Goosegirl to the snow-covered +mound beneath the linden tree. Whither could he turn to get his loved +one food? Ah, foolish, foolish King's Son who would not rule, who could +not beg! + +The Goosegirl, clinging to him tenderly, felt his despair, saw his eyes +fill with tears. Crying out that she was not ill, but was well and +strong, she rose to her feet. To cheer him, she tripped lightly to and +fro, singing a gay little song. Faster and faster twinkled her little +feet, brighter and brighter grew her smiles. But weaker and weaker +became her voice, paler and paler her face, until she fell, fainting, +into the snow. + +Then the King's Son rushed to her and took her in his arms. He wrapped +his cloak about her and carried her back to the mound. She opened her +eyes and smiled. + +"King! My King!" she whispered. + +Like a flash the King's Son remembered his crown. He opened the bundle +and took it out. + +"Do not sell your crown, O King!" murmured the Goosegirl. + +"I will! I must!" replied the King's Son. "It will bring you bread." + +He arose hastily, broke the shining crown into pieces, and ran toward +the hut. + +Rap! Rap! Rap! "Let me in!" he cried impatiently. + +"Do you want to break down the door?" replied the Broom-maker, appearing +at the window. + +"I care not," answered the King's Son. "Here is gold. Now will you give +me bread?" + +Gold? The greedy eyes of the Broom-maker gave the glittering fragments +one glance. Then he called the Wood-cutter. And they whispered, and they +searched all through the miserable hut until they found the poisoned +bread, the foul-smelling bread, which the Goosegirl had made as the +Witch had directed on that bright summer day long, long ago. + +With it in their hands they ran to the window. They handed it to the +King's Son, and he gave them gold, his golden crown, in its stead. + +The King's Son snatched the loaf and ran joyfully toward the mound and +fell at the Goosegirl's feet, crying: + +"I'm bringing bread, dear one! bread! Take it! Eat it!" + +"Not I alone," answered the Goosegirl. "You, too." + +So they broke the bread in two, and, laughing happily, they ate it +eagerly. They ate it all to its bitter, bitter end. Then, clasped in +each other's arms, they lay down to sleep and dreamed of rosy clouds of +glory wafting them toward sunny lands of everlasting bliss; and +dreaming, slept and--knew no more. And the snowflakes fell softly, +silently, and covered them with a shining robe of fleeciest white. + +A little later, the Fiddler and the little pure-hearted girl, followed +by a troop of children, entered the glade, all seeking, still seeking +with eyes of faith, for the rightful King and Queen. As they approached +the snow-covered mound the snow suddenly ceased falling; and the sunset +glow from the west shone down and revealed the Kingly Children asleep +forevermore. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +HAENSEL AND GRETEL + + +I + +Long ago, in half-forgotten days, a little hut stood at the edge of a +great forest. It was rather a meek, shamefaced little hut, for the +forest was great and beautiful, and the hut was small and ugly. Still, +it had a glowing fireplace inside, and a brick chimney on top, and it +was somebody's home, which--after all--is the principal thing. + +A broom-maker named Peter lived there with his wife Gertrude and their +two children, Haensel and Gretel. The broom-maker was poor, oh, very, +very poor, and that is why his home was not beautiful to see. But he was +an honest, upright man who loved his family, and had he been able, I am +sure, he would have housed them in a marble palace. Unfortunately, +however, the broom-making business had been unusually poor that year. + +Indeed, on the very day that our story begins, Peter and his wife were +both away from home in quest of work, and only Haensel and Gretel were +to be seen inside the hut. + +Lest you should not know, it might be well to mention that Haensel was +the boy. He was busily engaged--or, at least, he was supposed to be--in +making brooms, while Gretel, the girl, had her knitting in hand. But it +was extremely difficult to keep their thoughts or their eyes, either, +upon such stupid work. Each breeze that blew in through the open window +brought an invitation from the fascinatingly sunlit grassy spot before +the door. Even the trees in the forest beyond beckoned to them with +their tall branches. + +Besides, there was another cause for rebellion on that particular +afternoon. To tell the truth, the children were hungry. Moreover, since +there seemed to be absolutely nothing in the house to eat, it was quite +likely that they would remain hungry, which was the worst part of all. + +Haensel, after the manner of boys, threw his work into the farthest +corner of the room and fairly shouted: + +"I just wish Mother would come home! I'm hungry, that's what I am. For a +week I've eaten nothing but bread, and little of that. Oh, Gret, it +would be such a treat if we had something good to eat!" + +Now Gretel, as it happened, was every bit as hungry as he, but, after +the manner of girls, she sought to comfort him. + +"Don't be an old crosspatch," she said. "If you'll stop complaining, +I'll tell you a secret. But you must smile first!" + +Haensel smiled. + +She went on: + +"Do you see that jug over there on the table? Well--it's full of milk. +Somebody left it here. And if you're good, Mother will stew rice in it +when she comes home." + +Haensel had heard such stories before. + +"Don't believe it," said he. "It's too good to be true." + +Nevertheless he went to see. And when his eyes assured him that what was +in the jug really looked like milk, he was overcome with the temptation +to find out whether it tasted like milk, also. First he gave a sly +glance at Gretel and then down went his forefinger into the jug! + +"Haensel! aren't you ashamed, you greedy boy? Out with your finger!" For +Gretel had caught him in the act. + +"Get back to your work in a hurry, for you know if Mother comes before +we've finished, there'll be trouble." + +Haensel, however, was not inclined toward work that afternoon. In fact, +he was in a very rebellious mood, altogether. + +"Don't let's work," suggested he. "Let's dance." + +Now you must remember that Gretel was only a little girl with twinkling +feet that loved to dance and a merry voice that loved to sing. So do not +judge her too harshly, even though she quickly dropped her tiresome +knitting. + +Their wooden shoes--for they were the style in those days--clattered +over the board floor; they clapped their hands, their childish voices +rang out, and they had, all in all, a most beautiful time. They forgot +their empty stomachs; they forgot their aching fingers. Gretel, who was +clever in such things, taught Haensel some new steps. And he, less +awkward than usual, learned them so quickly that Gretel praised him for +his aptness. Her words made him as proud as a peacock. He seized her +hands in both of his own. Round and round they whirled, faster and +faster, until suddenly, losing their balance, they fell, laughing +loudly, in one heap on the floor. + +And then--the door opened. + +"Gracious goodness!" they cried. "It's Mother!" And up they jumped in +double-quick time. + +Yes, it was Mother, and an angry Mother at that. + +"What does this mean?" she exclaimed, "all the noise and clatter? Where +is your work, you good-for-nothing children?" + +The children, half penitent, wholly frightened, looked at each other. +Haensel blamed Gretel, Gretel blamed Haensel. + +The Mother blamed them both. She scolded, she raged, she brandished a +stick, and I confess I am afraid to think of what her anger might have +led her to do next. But just at that moment, in her excitement, she gave +the milk jug a push, and down it went, breaking into a thousand pieces, +with the precious milk running in little streams all over the floor. +That was the last straw! What was there left to be cooked for supper? + +The furious woman snatched a basket from a nail on the wall. She thrust +it into Gretel's hand. + +"Off with you both to the wood!" she cried. "And hurry up, too! Pick +strawberries for supper! If the basket isn't full, you'll get a +whipping. Yes, that's what you'll get." She shook her fist to make the +admonition more impressive. + +Scarcely had they gone, however, when the woman, completely exhausted, +sat down by the table and began to weep and moan. You see, she was +really not an ill-natured woman at all. Poverty had embittered her, and +the mere thought that her children might be starving, caused her to lose +entire control of her feelings. It had been a long, wearisome, and +disappointing day, and now, even at its end, her own irritability had +caused another calamity. Angry with herself, the world, and everything, +she rested her head on her arms and sobbed herself to sleep. + +Do you know the old verse, "It is always darkest just before dawn"? Now, +if the mother had been patient only a little longer, all would have +been well. But then there would have been no story to tell. + +The mother was still sleeping when the father came home. He was singing +joyfully, and he awoke her with a kiss. + +"See," he cried happily, "my brooms are all sold. There was a festival +in the town to-day, and every one must needs be clean. Such a sweeping +and a dusting and a cleaning! I drove a roaring trade, I tell you. So, +here's butter and eggs and ham and sausage. And tea, too. Hurry up, good +wife, and get supper ready!" + +The mother packed away the things. She lighted the fire. She hustled and +bustled about. Suddenly the father, missing the children, inquired: + +"Where are Haensel and Gretel?" He went to the door to call. + +"Don't call," answered the mother. "They were naughty, and I sent them +to the woods in disgrace." + +"The woods!" exclaimed the father, and his voice was full of horror. + +"It is growing dark," he said, "and my children are in those gloomy +woods without stars or moon to guide them! Don't you know that there is +enchantment in those woods? Don't you know that the Witch walks there?" +His voice sank to a whisper. + +"Which witch?" asked the woman, thoroughly alarmed. + +"The Crust Witch, the gobbling Witch! She who rides on a broomstick at +the midnight hour, when no one is abroad, over hill and vale, over moor +and dale!" + +"Oh! Oh! Oh! but what does she gobble?" + +"Have you never heard? All day long, she stalks around, with a +crinching, crunching, munching sound and lures little children with +gingerbread sweet. She lures little children, the poor little things, +into her oven, all red-hot; then she shuts the lid down, pop, +pop!--until they're done brown." + +"Oh, horror!" cried the mother, wringing her hands. "Oh, what shall we +do?" + +"Go seek them!" said the father. + +And in another moment without hats, shawl, anything, they had run out of +the hut. + + +II + +The sunset glow lighted the forest. It bathed the stately trees in rose +and gold. It shone on the cool carpet of leaves and wild flowers, and +played with the garlands of bright-colored vines. + +But the purple mist of twilight that hung over the distant fir-colored +hill sent gray shadows down. They crept behind the hedges and bushes, +warning the birds, the bees, and the flowers that night was drawing +nigh. + +One lingering ray of sunshine lit the mossy rock upon which Gretel sat. +She was weaving a wreath of wild flowers and singing a little song, +while Haensel ran hither and thither, filling his basket with red +strawberries. + +So, if you have imagined that they were at all unhappy, you see you were +quite mistaken. Indeed, they were entirely, wonderfully, breathlessly +happy. I doubt if they gave their mother's scolding a single thought. As +for their home, they had quite forgotten all about it, which, for aught +I know, may have been part of the enchantment. At any rate, they had +never had a better time. + +When Haensel's basket was full, Gretel's wreath was finished. So they +played at being king and queen of the wood, and Gretel wore the wreath, +and Haensel knelt in homage before her, presenting her with the basket +of berries. Whereupon, as a reward, she gave him some of the ripest ones +to taste. Soon tiring of this they went on to another game. A cuckoo +called from a tree near by, and they imitated his call, seeking each +other behind tall tree trunks. But saddest of all to tell, they ate the +strawberries while they played--yes, every single one. + +When they attempted to find fresh ones, they discovered that it had +grown too dark. There were black shadows under the hedges and bushes +now. A gray blanket of clouds was spread over the sky. + +Then fear came. For they could not find their way. Gretel saw strange +figures glimmering behind the birches. She saw strange faces grinning at +her from every mossy tree stump. Now it was Haensel who sought to +comfort her. A mist arose and shut them in. Advancing dimly through it, +they spied a lantern. Haensel said it was a will-o'-the-wisp. They heard +a call. He said it was the echo. + +When Gretel began to whimper and cry, Haensel held her fast in his arms. +But the shadows of strange things continued to nod and beckon. One +shadow grew and grew and grew. It moved toward them, and both children +cowered down in fear. Their eyes never left it. + +Suddenly the shadow took shape, and there stood an odd little gray man. +He had a long white beard. He leaned on a staff, and he carried a sack +on his back. Strange to say, the moment that the children saw his calm +smile and his friendly gestures they were not afraid any more. He came +toward them, chanting a quiet song about restful sleep and happy dreams. +Before they knew what he was about, he had sprinkled sand into their +tired eyes. Then Haensel and Gretel folded their hands and sleepily +whispered their evening prayer. With their arms about each other's necks +they sank slowly into the soft moss and soon were fast asleep. + +The little man disappeared as he had come, into the mist. But the mist +became roseate. It rolled itself into a fleecy cloud, which mounted +higher and higher until it touched the sky. What magic was this? It +changed again into a marvelous golden stairway! And down the stairway +floated beautiful guardian angels with dazzling wings and golden wands. +They grouped themselves about the sleeping children, at their heads, at +their feet, all about them. Waving their golden wands, they sent down +showers of wonderful dreams. Oh, such gleaming, glistening, unutterable +dreams! + + +III + +Scarcely had the sun peeped over the eastern horizon than the Dew Fairy +came fluttering into the woodland. Her wings were tinged with the first +blush of dawn and her garments were tipped with rosy light. She carried +armfuls of bluebells, and as she flitted lightly about, sweet music +rippled on the air. How she smiled when she saw Haensel and Gretel +asleep under the tall fir tree! + +"Up, ye sleepers! Awake! Awake!" she sang. Then, sprinkling dew from the +bluebells into their eyes, she vanished into the sunlit air. + +Gretel rubbed her eyes sleepily and raised herself from the moss. Was +she still in the beautiful greenwood? Ah, yes, she must be there. For +birds were merrily chirping overhead. There were glimpses of bright blue +sky between the leaf-laden branches. + +"Wake up, lazy bones!" she called to Haensel. + +He jumped up with a start, stretched himself, yawned once or twice, +looked about. Oh, the wonderful, wonderful forest! + +The sun had mounted higher in the sky. The woods were filled with a +mellow radiance. The morning mists had cleared away. And, most +astonishing of all, on the very hill so lately hidden by dark trees and +fleecy clouds, they beheld a most entrancing sight. + +A house stood there. But such a house! It was as beautiful--as +beautiful,--in short, I am afraid to tell you how undescribably +beautiful it was. The walls were of sweetest sugar candy, glistening +like diamonds in the sun; the roof was of chocolate cake, all soft and +creamy; and the gables were ornamented with raisins, like little eyes. +On one side there was a strange-looking cage; on the other, a huge, +strange-looking oven; and both were joined to the house by a fence made +of the daintiest gingerbread figures imaginable. + +"Oh," cried Haensel, "did you ever see anything so wonderful?" + +"No, I never did," answered Gretel. "A princess must live in that." + +They stared and stared, while their mouths watered and their fingers +itched prodigiously. + +Haensel wished to go boldly inside, but the mere thought of doing +anything so rash frightened Gretel. + +"Well, the angels led us here," reflected Haensel. + +"Ye-es, that's true, they did," conceded Gretel. + +"Come on. Let's just nibble a little bit," tempted Haensel. + +And so, hand in hand, they hopped along, like two little mice, toward +the magic house. Then they stole cautiously forward on tiptoe, until, +at length, they were within reaching distance. Haensel's hand went out. +He broke off a bit. + +Quick as lightning came a squeaking voice from the inside: + + "Nibble, nibble, mousekin, + Who's nibbling at my housekin?" + +Haensel started back in fear. + +"'Twas only the wind," said Gretel. "Let's taste it." + +They did. Since it tasted better than anything they had ever eaten +before, they feasted merrily for a while, never heeding the voice of the +Witch or her ugly form, either, which, a little later, appeared at the +door. I have no doubt that they would be feasting yet, if the Witch had +not then and there stealthily stolen upon them. With a deft movement she +threw a rope about Haensel's neck and held him fast. + +The children's delight turned to terror. For she was a loathsome sight +to see. Bent, toothless, with unkempt hair and clawlike hands, she +looked the picture of a Witch indeed. + +In spite of her appearance, however, she spoke to them in a very kindly +manner. She called them pretty names, told them that they were nice and +plump, and that they would make excellent gingerbread. She even caressed +Haensel, which made him very angry. Wriggling and squirming, he managed +to loosen the rope and seizing Gretel by the hand, ran--alas! only a +short distance. For the Witch, holding aloft a juniper branch, circled +it in the air, repeating these strange words: + + "Hocus, pocus, witch's charm, + Move not, as you fear my arm!" + +The children stood stock-still. They were stiff from head to toe. +Fortunately, by this time they had undergone so many strange adventures +that they had learned fairly well how to conduct themselves. + +"Watch carefully all she does!" whispered Haensel, as the Witch led him +away to the cage and gave him nuts and raisins to fatten him. + +"I will," said Gretel. + +Therefore, when, a few moments later, the Witch disenchanted her in +order that she might prepare the table, Gretel listened attentively to +the words: + + "Hocus, pocus, elder bush, + Rigid body, loosen hush!" + +No sooner had Gretel run into the house than the Witch was seized with a +fit of wild joy. She thrust more fagots into the fire, laughing wickedly +when the flames flared higher and higher. She mounted her broomstick and +rode about, shouting a weird song. + +Gretel watched her from the doorway. That broomstick ride gave her an +opportunity. She stole to the cage, and, whispering, + + "Hocus, pocus, elder bush, + Rigid body, loosen hush!" + +she set Haensel free. But he did not move. No, not yet. + +For the Witch had come back. She was rubbing her hands with glee. Her +face wore an evil smile. Oh, the fine meal she would have! Haensel was +not plump enough. Gretel must be eaten first. So, opening the oven door, +she called Gretel and told her to look inside. But clever Gretel +pretended not to understand. Would not the Witch show her how? Angry, +impatient, muttering to herself, the Witch crept nearer to the oven, and +when she was about to bend over it, Haensel and Gretel gave her one +good, hard push from behind. She toppled over and fell in. Bang! bang! +went the door. She was safe inside. + +How the fire crackled and roared. A moment later there was a great crash +and the oven fell to pieces. Haensel and Gretel, much terrified, started +to run away, but found themselves, to their great surprise, entirely +surrounded by a troop of little children. + +"It's the fence," exclaimed Haensel, "the gingerbread fence!" + +And so it was. The gingerbread had fallen off, and real children stood +there, motionless, with closed eyes, murmuring softly: + + "Oh, touch us, we pray, + That we may all awake!" + +"Pooh! if that's all they want!" said Gretel, proudly, and she repeated: + + "Hocus, pocus, elder bush, + Rigid body, loosen hush!" + +Instantly life came back to the whole troop. They hurried toward Haensel +and Gretel from all sides. They danced, they sang! Two boys ran to the +oven and dragged out the Witch in the form of a big gingerbread cake. +Then the merrymaking began in earnest. They made a big circle, and round +and round it they danced. Last but not least, they ate up the candy +house. At any rate, that is what they were doing when their mothers and +fathers found them there that afternoon. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE MASTER SINGERS + + +I + +Across the wide sea, amid the green hop fields of southern Germany, is +the old, old city of Nuremberg. Shut off from the busy world outside by +its great wall of stone, it has stood unchanged through all the passing +centuries. There are the same narrow, crooked streets leading to the +public squares, where quaintly carved stone fountains stand. There are +the same many gabled, lofty houses, with oriole windows that open +outward. There are latticed doorways with plaster figures that beckon +and bless and welcome. And the gray castle, the grass-grown moat, the +dark, pillared church, all tell stories of the days of long ago. + +In those days men dreamed dreams and sang songs as they sat on the bench +or in the market place. The cobbler at his last, the baker before the +oven, the silversmith by the fire, even the little apprentice, watching +and learning, looked out upon a fair world and found it good. So while +hands were busy, thoughts roved far and wide, and fancy wove many a song +to sing by the fireside on wintry nights. + +But not only by the fireside were those songs sung in the days when +Nuremberg was young. The good people there prized the Art of Song too +highly for that alone. + +"Though a man's lot be humble," they said, "his thoughts may be rich in +fancy; he may have a song to sing." So they formed a guild devoted to +the cultivation of poetry and music, and the members of this guild were +called Master Singers. Every man who wished to enter the guild was +obliged to write some verses,--according to the rules of the guild; and +to compose appropriate music for those verses,--according to the rules +of the guild; and, finally, to sing them both together,--according to +the rules of the guild. Then if the masters approved of his performance, +he became one of the Master Singers of Nuremberg. And great was the +honor conferred upon him when he reached this high estate! Many had +tried, but few had been chosen. Indeed, the entire guild was composed of +but twelve members. These were, for the most part, worthy men, devoted +to their trades and to music. And each one had a boy apprenticed to him, +to whom he taught cobbling or soap-making or baking or tailoring by day, +and the Art of Song by night. + +Among the Master Singers of Nuremberg none is better remembered than +Hans Sachs. He was a cobbler by trade and a poet by nature, and his +songs and verses have outlived his boots by many a year. It is of his +part in a song festival of the Master Singers hundreds of years ago that +our story has to tell. + + +II + +It began on the day before the feast of St. John in St. Catherine's +Church, which was really not the proper place for a love affair to begin +at all. But what did Eva Pogner or Sir Walter von Stolzing care for +that? The only thing that mattered to them was the joyous Springtime +which had stolen in through the open chancel window and had warmed their +hearts toward everything in the world,--but most of all toward each +other. + +Sir Walter stood leaning against a great stone pillar at the back of the +church. He wore a blue velvet suit, his hat had a long white plume, and +he was as handsome a young knight as one could ever wish to see. + +Pretty Eva sat in the last pew with her maid Magdalena by her side. Her +head was bent, and her eyes were upon her prayer book, as befitted a +modest maiden. Still she saw Sir Walter very plainly. In fact, somehow, +she caught every message that his dark eyes sent across the church. And +her cheeks turned rosy, and her heart grew warmer than ever the +Springtime had made it. Indeed, those glances so confused her that she +lost her place in the hymn book. Magdalena noticed it and nudged her +mistress sharply. So Eva sent one glance back to the fascinating young +knight, just a little frightened one; and then she joined in the closing +hymn. But when she lifted up her joyous young voice and made it ring +high above all the rest, Sir Walter stared harder than ever. + +The young knight had loved this light-hearted maiden since he had first +seen her in her father's house. And his only wish was to win her for his +bride. But how? Suppose she were already promised to some one else! + +While these mingled thoughts of joy and doubt possessed him, a ray of +sunshine crept into the dark church. It lingered on Eva's head, making a +halo of her golden hair. A moment later he saw two eyes, mirroring some +of the sky's own blue, dart him a shy glance. And he heard a voice so +sweet that he was sure the angels themselves stood still to listen. Come +what might, thought he, he would speak to her that very day. + +The service was over. One by one the people filed slowly between the +dark pillars, and out of the church, into the bright sunshine. Only Eva +and Magdalena lingered, smiling and chatting with friends and neighbors +as they walked slowly along. As they approached the pillar behind which +Sir Walter stood, he stepped forward. The long, white plume of his hat +swept the floor as he bowed in greeting. + +"One word, my fair maid, I entreat," he began. + +Strange to say, the moment Eva heard his voice she discovered that she +had forgotten her handkerchief. Perhaps it was in the pew. Magdalena +must return for it. + +Then, with the maid safely out of hearing, Eva turned her mischievous +face to Sir Walter. She was ready to listen, so he spoke. Did Eva look +upon him with favor? Might he hope? Scarcely were the words out of his +mouth, when Magdalena was back again, handkerchief in hand. + +"Come, Eva," she said; "it is growing late." + +But Eva was in no hurry, with this gallant cavalier close at hand. +Perhaps he wished to tell her a beautiful story. Had Magdalena seen her +scarfpin? It was gone. Was it there on the floor? + +"Good Lena, go back and find it," said the artful Eva. + +And Lena went back, grumbling, and searched here, there, and everywhere. + +Meanwhile Sir Walter improved his opportunity. The words hurried to his +lips. He begged Eva to tell him whether light and happiness, or gloom +and doubt, were to be his portion. + +The answering words were trembling on Eva's lips ready to be spoken. But +there stood the ubiquitous Magdalena again, with the scarfpin! + +"We must go home," she said. "Come. Here's your kerchief and your pin. +But where's my prayer book? Oh, alackaday! I've left it in the pew!" + +Back she bustled once more. + +These interruptions served to make Sir Walter more impatient than ever. +Would he never be able to make love in peace? He took a long breath, +leaned forward, and whispered eagerly: "May I hope? Or are you promised +to some one else?" + +And for answer, while Eva hid her eyes for fear they would tell of her +love too soon, there was Magdalena again! + +"Yes, Sir Walter," said Magdalena, and she curtsied low, wishing to be +most polite to this handsome young man. + +"Yes, Sir Walter," she repeated. "Our Eva is betrothed." + +Betrothed? Sir Walter was stunned into silence; misery spread itself +like a black cloud over his face. Nor did the reply please Miss Eva, +either. She quickly interrupted, saying: + +"But no one knows who the bridegroom will be. No, not until to-morrow." + +Sir Walter knit his brows. That was amazing! Was it a puzzle? What did +it mean? + +Eva and Magdalena hastened to explain. After all, it was very simple. + +Out in the meadows near Nuremberg a song festival was to be held +to-morrow. It was to be a great singing match. And Eva's father had +promised part of his fortune, and his daughter besides, to the singer +who should win the prize. Eva herself was to crown the victor with a +wreath of laurel. "But," they continued, "he must be a Master Singer. No +one may even try for the prize who is not a member of the guild." + +"Are you not a Master Singer, Sir Walter?" inquired Eva, timidly, and +it was plain that she wished with all her heart to hear him say yes. + +Poor Sir Walter! Until that moment he had never heard of the Master +Singers. As for the song contest, he never even knew that there was to +be such a thing. What was to be done? Could no one help? Walter was in +despair, and Eva, who by this time knew the man she wished to marry, was +on the verge of tears. + +A shaft of light streamed across the church. The door was opened, then +closed with a bang. A youth ran in hastily. He noticed no one. He wore a +businesslike air, as he hurried this way and that. He was David, +apprentice to Hans Sachs, the shoemaker. + +From the expression on Magdalena's face when she saw David, it was easy +to see how matters stood! Her heart was affected, too, and David was the +cause. She looked at him admiringly a moment, then gave a little cough. +David started. He hastened toward her, smiling and holding out his +hands. Ah! it was his own true love, Lena! But she must not detain him. +He was busy. There was to be a trial meeting. + +"A trial meeting!" exclaimed Magdalena, joyfully. "Just the thing!" Now +the handsome knight would have a chance. She beamed happily upon David. +"You must explain everything to him!" she cried, and whispered the +directions eagerly. + +But Mr. David was stubborn. He had no time. There was the platform to be +set, the curtains to be hung, the chairs and the benches to be arranged. +And it was late. + +"David, dear David," coaxed Lena, with her face close to his, "if you'll +help Sir Walter to become a Master Singer, I'll bring you a basket full +of the best things you ever ate." + +And before David had time to refuse, the clever Lena had seized Eva's +hand and had hurried with her from the church. + +Scarcely were they gone, than with a great shouting the jolly +apprentices danced into the church. They hopped and skipped about, +joking and laughing, as they made ready for the meeting. They pulled one +another's hair, they played leapfrog over the chairs, they pushed, they +shoved, but they worked, too, and in a twinkling the church was +transformed into a meeting place. There stood the marker's platform, for +all the world like a great box, with black curtains on all four sides. +To the right of it were the benches for the masters, and in plain view +of all was the great chair for the candidate. + +Sir Walter had, all unconsciously, seated himself in the great chair. +His eyes stared moodily ahead. He heard nothing, saw nothing, of all the +fun about him. He was buried in deepest gloom. He had promised Eva that +he would become a poet, a singer, for her sake, and he wished to do so, +but where and how was he to begin? Her father would not allow her to +marry any one but a Master Singer. How could he become a Master Singer +in one day? + +While these thoughts passed through the young knight's mind, young David +stood watching. Suddenly he shouted: + +"Now begin!" + +Walter gave a jump. + +"Eh, what?" he stuttered. + +"Begin the song," said David. "That's what the marker says, and then you +must sing up. Don't you know that?" + +Sir Walter shook his head. He knew nothing. + +"He's a stupid fellow for all his fine clothes," thought David. Then he +said aloud: + +"Don't you know that the marker is the man who sits in the curtained box +and marks the mistakes?" + +No. Sir Walter did not know that. + +"Don't you know that the singer may have seven mistakes, seven,--and no +more?" + +Sir Walter did not know that, either. + +"Well, well! And you want to become a Master Singer in one day. I've +studied for years and years with Hans Sachs, my master, and I'm not a +Master Singer yet. You have a lot to learn," and David gave a great sigh +and scratched his head with his forefinger. Then, like the kind-hearted +fellow that he was, but with half a thought fixed upon Lena's cakes, he +began to explain. He explained the rules for high tones and low tones, +for standing and sitting, for breathing and ending, for grace notes and +middle notes, for rhyming and tuning; and the more he explained, the +more perplexed poor Sir Walter became. His spirits dropped, dropped, +down to his very boots. Indeed, his discouragement was so great that I +fear he would have been much inclined to run away if at that moment the +Master Singers had not come in. + +Veit Pogner, the rich silversmith, came first. And tagging behind him, +talking excitedly, and gesticulating while he talked, was the Marker of +the guild, the town clerk, Sixtus Beckmesser. The rest came after. But +their voices could not be heard. The town clerk was so busy telling +Master Pogner that he hoped to win his daughter on the morrow, and that +he would serenade her that very night, that no one else had a chance to +say anything. + +Imagine a short man, a fat man, a man with thin, crooked legs, a mincing +gait, a head too bald, a face too red; in short, a clown of a man. That +was Sixtus Beckmesser. Then think of two squinting eyes fastened upon +Master Pogner's money. That was the secret of the town clerk's love for +pretty Eva. He was as different from Sir Walter as night is from day, as +sorrow is from joy, as falsehood is from truth. But he was determined to +win in the song contest. And he had many powers, good and evil, to help +him, as you shall see. + +Sir Walter stepped forward, and Veit Pogner greeted him kindly. Surely +so handsome a knight should be favored. Hans Sachs came forward, also. +And all agreed that Sir Walter should be given an opportunity. Only +Beckmesser snarled with rage, for the young knight was a formidable +rival. + +"Ha! ha!" croaked he to himself. "Just wait. Let him try to sing! I'll +show him what singing is." + +Sir Walter was bidden to seat himself in the candidate's chair. And, +with a smile that was far from friendly, Sixtus Beckmesser, slate and +chalk in hand, entered the Marker's box and pulled the curtains together +behind him. + +Then in a harsh tone he called out:-- + +"Now begin!" + +Walter mused a moment and then began his song. The words, the music, +flowed forth unbidden from his full heart. He sang of the Springtime +which came into the sleeping forest, and, with thousands of heavenly +voices, awakened the birds, the bees, the flowers. He sang of murmuring +brooks, of rustling leaves, and of winter all forlorn, lurking in the +woodlands, loath to depart. + +And as he sang, groans of discouragement came from within the Marker's +box. There was the sound of chalk scratches, once, twice, and again. + +Walter hesitated a moment. Then he went on. He sang of the awakening of +the woods to life, to happiness. His voice rose high in joyous refrain. + +But a loud groan came from the Marker's box. Another scratch--another. + +Walter took a long breath. He did not care. With thoughts of his fair +Eva in mind, he sang on. He sang of love, which, like Springtime in the +woodland, had awakened his heart. He sang of the thrill of life it +brought, the happiness, the all-surpassing joy. + +Suddenly the curtains were roughly pushed apart, and Beckmesser rushed +out, slate in hand. It was covered on both sides with marks! + +"Can no one stop him?" he cried as he jumped frantically about. "The +slate is full," and he laughed exultingly. + +The Masters joined in the laughter, for, it was true, Sir Walter had +sung according to no rule of the guild. Only Hans Sachs and Veit Pogner, +realizing the beauty and poetry of the song, tried to argue for the +young knight. But their opinions were overruled. The Master Singers +decreed that Sir Walter had lost his chance. He must be silent and sing +no more. Sixtus Beckmesser remained triumphant, and Walter left the +church while the Masters pronounced the decree,-- + +"Outdone and outsung." + + +III + +The day of toil was over. Twilight came, and then the cool and quiet +evening. A bright moon rode on high. It peeped in and out, between the +gables, behind the church spire, and promised fair weather for the +morrow. + + "Midsummer Day, Midsummer Day, + And the song festival so gay,--" + +sang the jolly 'prentice boys, as they appeared at their masters' house +doors to close the shutters for the night. + +David stood on the little grass plot before his master's cottage, also. +But he was not in so merry a mood. He was a serious young man with a +sweetheart of his own, and he had no time for frivolity or nonsense. Let +silly boys caper as they wished. So he pulled down the shutters and +never noticed Magdalena, who had slipped out of Veit Pogner's great +house across the street and was hastening toward him. The boys snickered +and beckoned to one another in great glee. A well-laden basket was on +Magdalena's arm, and even her voice had an inviting sound. + +"David, dear, turn around!" she called. David hastened eagerly to her +side. The boys, too, with broad grins overspreading their faces, crept +forward on tiptoes to listen. + +"See, David," they heard Lena say, "here's something nice for you. Take +a peep inside. Doesn't that make your mouth water? But tell me first, +what of Sir Walter?" + +"There's nothing much to tell," answered David, quite unconcerned. "He +was outsung and outdone!" + +"Outsung and outdone!" gasped Magdalena. "Take your hands off of my +basket. No, sir! None of my goodies for you!" and she flounced off, +murmuring: "What's to be done? Oh, what's to be done?" + +David stared after her. He was dumfounded. But the boys jeered and +pointed their fingers at him. They had heard it all. Laughing and +singing, they formed a ring, and capered about David, who became very +angry, and struck out blindly right and left. But the more he raved and +raged, the more they teased and tormented, until, all of a sudden, a +tall figure stood before them. It was Hans Sachs, the cobbler. Annoyance +was written all over his good-humored face. His honest blue eyes sent +out sparks of anger. The boys hung their heads. + +"What does this mean?" he cried. "To bed! To bed!" The apprentices stole +shamefacedly away. + +"And you"--he continued, taking the crest-fallen David by the ear, "put +the new shoes on the lasts and get into the house. No song to-night, +sir!" They entered the workshop. + +All was still on the narrow street for a little while. Eva and her +father sauntered homeward from their evening walk. They lingered for a +few moments beneath the linden tree before the door, enjoying the +evening air. Then they entered the house for supper. Lights glimmered in +the windows. A dog barked in the distance. Peace pervaded the quiet +town. + +Hans Sachs appeared again at his workshop door. He flung it open and +peered down the street, then he looked up at the sky. The gentle evening +breeze fanned his cheeks. How refreshing it was! How pleasant it would +be to work out of doors to-night! And, calling David, he ordered him to +place his bench, his stool, the light, the tools outside, beneath the +tree. + +"You will not work in this light, Master?" queried David. + +"Be quiet," retorted Hans Sachs, shortly. "Go to bed!" + +"Sleep well, Master." + +"Good night," answered Hans Sachs, as he sat down by the bench and took +up his tools. But he did not work. The silvery moonlight cast a glamor +over the town. It softened the outlines of all that he looked upon and +made them vague, uncertain, beautiful. The evening breeze wafted down +the sweet scent of the elder blossoms, and a delicious languor overcame +him. The soul of the poet arose in the body of the cobbler, and, as if +under a spell, he sat motionless, oblivious to shoes, lasts, tools, +everything. The Song of Spring that the young knight had sung that +afternoon began to haunt him. Faintly, elusively, it came to his mind, +like the distant echo of a melody heard in a dream. Musing upon Sir +Walter, who, like the birds in the woodland, had sung the song his heart +had told him to sing, he did not see Eva trip lightly from her father's +house. She paused before him. Hans Sachs looked up. The sweet girl, +swaying back and forth like a bird on a bough, looked more like a happy +thought than a physical reality. + +Eva broke the silence shyly. + +"Good evening, Master," she said. "Still working?" + +Instantly Hans Sachs' face wore a genial smile of welcome. + +"Ah, little Eva," he answered, "you have come to speak about those new +shoes for to-morrow, I'll be bound." + +Now, as you no doubt have already guessed, artful Miss Eva had come for +no such purpose at all. To tell the truth, she had feared to ask her +father aught concerning the trial meeting of the Master Singers that +afternoon. For she knew it would be far easier to wheedle the story from +her old friend Hans Sachs. + +With a fine affectation of unconcern she began her questioning. But +little did she know Hans Sachs. He, as it happened, was quite clever +enough to divine her plan. He suspected that she must have some hidden +reason for this sudden interest in the trial meeting. At least, he +thought, it would do no harm to find out. So he spoke harshly of Sir +Walter, and pretended that he had sung abominably at the trial meeting. +Indeed, the Masters were quite right in rejecting him! And all the time +he watched Eva's expression and laughed, oh, how he laughed, in his +sleeve! + +Eva flushed crimson. She flew into a temper. + +"A nice lot of Masters, indeed!" She flung the words at Hans Sachs. +"Little do they know of fine singing, or you either, for that matter." +Then she rushed angrily away, and crossed the street to her own home. + +Hans Sachs smiled tenderly. He nodded his head wisely as he gazed after +her. + +"Ah!" he said to himself, "that's just what I thought! That's just what +I thought!" + +And still shaking his head, he gathered up his tools and entered the +workshop. He closed the door behind him; that is, he nearly closed the +door,--nearly, not entirely, which was most fortunate, as you shall see. + +Not long afterward Sir Walter von Stolzing came hastening down the +street. His face was full of sorrow. All his hopes of winning Eva were +gone. He would see her once more, and then bid her farewell forever. + +Eva saw him coming. Running toward him, she greeted him gladly and led +him to the garden seat, beneath the shade of the linden tree. And there +the young knight told her of his failure. As he spoke of the +narrow-minded Masters who had spurned his song, his voice grew bitter. +"Ah," he continued, "all hope is gone unless you will marry me +to-night." Eva assented eagerly. And so, in excited whispers, just loud +enough for Hans Sachs to hear, the two lovers planned to run away. + +Losing no time, Eva ran into the house and donned Magdalena's cloak. +Then, bidding the maid seat herself by the window in her stead, she +hurried to join Sir Walter. + +Just as the two lovers made ready under cover of the darkness to dive +down the narrow street, clever Hans Sachs threw his workshop door wide +open, and the broad stream of bright light from his lamp flooded their +path. Eva and Sir Walter fell back. They could not pass that way. The +cobbler would be sure to see them. They looked in the opposite +direction. No. There was the watchman, and skulking in his wake was +still another figure. Who could that be? He was coming that way. Oh, +this would never do. In despair the lovers rushed back to the friendly +shadows beneath the linden tree. + +Meanwhile Hans Sachs, who had no objection to their marriage, but who +felt a great distaste for elopements, had brought out his tools, and had +seated himself at his workbench once more. He, too, spied a strange +figure slinking down the street toward Pogner's house. Well he knew +those thin legs, that fat body, the too bald head, the too red face. It +was Beckmesser, the town clerk, the Marker of the guild. He had come to +serenade the fair Eva. He would show her what fine singing was. And he +looked up at her window expectantly, as he tuned his lute. + +At the same moment Hans Sachs, chuckling softly to himself, broke out +in a loud song accompanied by an outrageous hammering upon a pair of +shoes. His big voice rang out so lustily that it completely drowned the +tinkle, tinkle of the town clerk's lute. Beckmesser became frantic with +rage. Suppose Miss Eva should hear! Suppose she should think he was +singing in that atrocious manner. A slim chance he would have to win her +to-morrow! He gazed at the closed shutters Then he ran to Hans Sachs, +scolding and pleading with him to be silent. What did Master Beckmesser +want? And Master Sachs was most indignant. Those were his shoes that he +was working upon. A man must keep at his trade. And the jolly cobbler +went on hammering and singing as loudly as before. + +The panic of Master Beckmesser increased. He paced angrily to and fro. +He put his fingers to his ears. And if Hans Sachs had not been so big +and strong, it is not hard to imagine what he would have done next. + +At last when the window in Pogner's house opened wide and revealed a +maiden seated there, Hans Sachs ceased. He had a plan. He consented to +listen to Beckmesser's serenade if he might be permitted to mark each +error by tapping on his lapstone. For there were shoes to be finished, +and that was the only way. + +The plan did not please Beckmesser at all, but, since he had no choice, +he was forced to agree. So, by way of beginning, he strummed a prelude +on his lute, and looked for favor at the figure in the window. But +before he had time to get his breath Hans Sachs had struck the shoe a +mighty blow and had shouted,-- + +"Now begin!" + +Beckmesser started. Then he began to sing. But a sorry performance it +was. The nervousness, the anger, the malice, had entered his voice and +had made it harsh and squeaky by turns. He sang a line. It was out of +tune. Down went the hammer. He scowled and began another line. It did +not rhyme. The hammer fell again. And so, becoming more and more +enraged, Beckmesser sang more and more falsely, so that Hans Sachs was +kept busy beating a veritable tattoo upon his lapstone. Beckmesser +squeaked, he bawled, he howled, and all the time Hans Sachs hammered and +hammered, until both shoes were done. + +This howling and hammering awakened the people in the houses all about. +Shutters were pushed back, windows were opened, nightcaps appeared and +sleepy voices ordered them to be silent. + +David, hearing the tumult, peered out. When he saw a strange man before +the window serenading a lady whom he at once perceived to be his Lena, +he rushed out, cudgel in hand. He fell upon the unfortunate musician, +who yelled so loudly that the whole neighborhood was aroused. The +apprentices rushed out and fell upon David, and the Masters rushed out +and fell upon the apprentices, and before any one knew what it was all +about, everybody was hitting everybody else. The clamor and commotion +grew and grew apace. People came running from all sides, and joined in +the general hubbub and confusion. + +Only Hans Sachs kept a cool head. Seeing that Eva and her knight were +about to make use of the excitement to run away, he intercepted them. +First he pushed Eva into her father's house. Then, grasping Walter by +the arm, he thrust him into his own workshop and, following him, closed +the door. + +The street fight continued. Suddenly the sound of the watchman's horn +was heard in the distance. The crowd was seized with a panic of fear. As +if by magic, it dispersed. The people suddenly disappeared into the +houses, down the alleys, behind doors, anywhere. The lights were +extinguished. All was still. + +When the sleepy watchman came to that street, he rubbed his eyes, stared +about him in surprise, and then shook his head. Could he have been +dreaming? He thought that he had heard a noise. Holding his torch aloft, +he blew his horn and cried out: + + "To my words, ye people, hearken: + All your houses straight way darken! + 'Tis ten o'clock, all fires put out! + Let naught of evil lurk about. + Praised be the Lord!" + +Then he went his way. And the moon shone down upon the peaceful streets +of Nuremberg. + + +IV + +Midsummer Day dawned. Long before the town was awake, while Sir Walter +still slumbered in an inner room of the cottage, Hans Sachs sat in the +great armchair by the open window. The morning sunshine fell upon his +head as he bent over the thick and musty volume he held in his hands. +But who shall say he was reading as he turned the time-worn leaves over +and over? His mind wandered far afield,--to the early days of his +beloved Nuremberg, to the trades, to himself, the humble cause of last +night's brawl. And the thought of the two young lovers came to him. He +would like so much to help them, if he could only find a way. So +absorbed was he that he scarcely noticed the youth David who came to +offer him the basket of goodies, which Magdalena had given him as a +token of forgiveness. + +And so the moments passed. Hans Sachs resumed his reading, until at +length the chamber door was opened and Sir Walter stood upon the +threshold. Bidding his host good morning, he walked slowly toward him. + +"Ah, good morning, Sir Knight," replied Hans Sachs, forgetful of the +great book, which slid to the floor as he arose. "I hope you rested +well." + +"Thank you. The sleep that I had was restful," answered Sir Walter, in a +dreamy and preoccupied tone. Then he exclaimed rapturously,-- + +"But I had a most beautiful dream!" + +"A dream?" Hans Sachs was all attention. "Tell it to me!" + +"I dare not. I fear it will fade away," said Sir Walter. + +"Nay. It is of such dreams that poetry is made,"--and the eyes of the +cobbler gleamed with an inner radiance. "Poems are but dreams made +real." + +Thus urged and encouraged, the young knight sang the story of his dream. +And Hans Sachs was moved by the rare beauty of the poetry and music. +Hastily procuring pen and ink, he bade Sir Walter sing it over again +while he transcribed the words to paper. Then, as the song continued, +the kind-hearted master added bits of advice in a low tone. He showed +the young knight how he could keep the words and melody as beautiful as +his dream, and still obey the rules of correct singing. Charging him +not to forget the tune, Hans Sachs insisted that Sir Walter array +himself in his richest garments and accompany him to the Song Festival. + +"For," concluded he, "something may happen. Who can tell?" And so the +two men entered the inner room together. + +Hans Sachs was right. Something did happen, and very soon, too. Scarcely +was that door closed than the one leading to the street was cautiously +pushed open. And a too bald head, a too red face, and two squinting, +crafty eyes peeped in. Then, assured that no one was about, a wretched +figure limped after. It was Beckmesser, the town clerk, but a sore and +aching Beckmesser; a Beckmesser who could neither sit, nor stand,--a +miserable Beckmesser, whose disposition had not been at all improved by +the cudgeling that he had received. Slowly and painfully he came +forward. And since there was no one at hand, he shook his fist and +scowled savagely at the bright sunshine and the soft air. + +As he hopped and limped about the room, he came, by chance, to the table +whereon lay the paper upon which Hans Sachs had written. He took it up, +inquisitively sniffing, as he ran his eye over it. What was this? A +trial song, and a love song at that? And, hearing the chamber door open, +he, then and there, stuck the paper into his pocket. How Hans Sachs +smiled when he saw what the crafty creature had been about! + +"Very well, Master Beckmesser," said he. "Since you've already pocketed +the song, and since I do not wish you to be known as a thief, I gladly +give it to you." + +"And you'll never tell any one that you composed it?" squeaked +Beckmesser. + +"No, I'll never tell any one that I composed it," and Hans Sachs turned +away to hide his laughter, for he knew full well that no Master +Beckmesser could learn and sing that song that day. + +But the miserable Beckmesser was beside himself with joy. Such a song, +composed by a master like Hans Sachs and sung by a singer like Sixtus +Beckmesser, could not fail to win the prize! Rubbing his hands with +glee, he hobbled and stumbled from the room. + +The time for the Song Festival came at last. The worthy people of +Nuremberg,--the bakers, the cobblers, the tailors, the tinkers, with +their wives and their sweethearts, all clad in the brightest of holiday +clothes, journeyed to the open meadow at some distance behind the town. +And there a scene of jollity and merriment awaited them. Gayly decorated +boats sailed to and fro, bringing more burghers from near and far. Under +tents of colored bunting merry people were eating and drinking. Flags +flew, bands played; there was dancing and singing, laughter and joy. And +the 'prentices in all the glory of floating ribbons and many-colored +flowers ran this way and that, ordering the tradespeople to the benches +one moment and dancing with the prettiest girls the next. + +Suddenly a shout was heard: "The Master Singers! The Master Singers!" +And a hush fell over the company, as the 'prentices marched solemnly +forward and cleared the way. The standard bearer came first, and +following him, Veit Pogner, leading the fair Eva by the hand. She was +richly dressed, and looked radiant as the morning itself. Attending her +were other splendidly gowned maidens, among whom was the one that David +thought the most lovely of all. Then came the Master Singers. And when +the people saw their beloved Hans Sachs among the rest, they shouted and +waved their hats in loyal greeting. + +The Master Singers took their seats on the platform, a place of honor in +their midst having been assigned to Eva and her maidens. Several +'prentices ran forward and heaped up a little mound of turf, which they +beat solid and then strewed with flowers. The time for the prize +singing was at hand. + + "Unmarried masters, forward to win! + Friend Beckmesser, it is time. Begin!" + +The 'prentices conducted Beckmesser to the mound. He put up one aching +leg, then the other. He stood wavering uncertainly a moment, then +toppled over. + +"The thing is rickety," he snarled. "Make it secure." + +The boys set hastily to work, slyly snickering, while they beat the turf +with their spades. And the people near at hand giggled and whispered: + +"What a lover!"--"I wouldn't care for him if I were the lady."--"He's +too fat."--"Look at his red face."--"Where's his hair?" + +With the help of the 'prentices Beckmesser again hobbled up on the +mound. Striving to set his feet securely, he looked right and left. Then +he made a grand bow. + +The standard bearer called out,-- + +"Now, begin." + +And he began. He sang such a song as Nuremberg had never heard before +and hoped never to hear again. Mixed with the tune of the new song was +the miserable serenade he had sung the night before. As for the new +words that he had tried to learn, they were gone completely. His mind +was blank. So he ducked his head and took a peep at the paper, and +instead of the words, + + "Morning was gleaming with roseate light, + The air was filled + With scent distilled,"-- + +Beckmesser sang,-- + + "Yawning and steaming with roseate light, + My hair was filled + With scent distilled,"-- + +and much more besides that was far worse. The people muttered to each +other. They could not understand what it was all about. The Masters +stared in perplexity. Finally, as the singer became more and more +confused, and sang a jumble of ridiculous and meaningless words, they +all burst into a loud peal of laughter. + +The sound of laughter stung Beckmesser to fury. He stumbled angrily from +the mound and, shaking his fist at Hans Sachs, declared that if the song +was poor, it was not his fault. Hans Sachs was to blame. He had written +it. Then he threw the paper on the platform and, rushing madly through +the crowd, disappeared. + +The people were in confusion, the Masters were amazed. They all turned +to Hans Sachs for an explanation. He picked up the paper, smoothed it +out, handed it to the Masters, and said: + +"No, the song is not mine. I could not hope to compose anything so +beautiful." + +Beautiful? The Masters were incredulous. Hans Sachs must be joking. But +he went on. + +"Yes, beautiful. Master Beckmesser has sung it incorrectly. The one who +wrote it could render it in a manner that would prove its beauty beyond +a doubt." Raising his voice, he called: + +"Let the one who can sing the song step forward." + +And to the great surprise of all, Sir Walter von Stolzing, clad in +glittering knightly apparel, came from the crowd. He bowed courteously +to the Masters, and won the hearts of all by his noble looks and his +manly bearing. He stepped lightly upon the mound, mused a moment, and +then began his song of the dream. And, as before, the words, the music, +gushed forth from his full heart. He put all his love, all his yearning, +into the melody he sang. His voice swelled upward like the rising tide. +And when it reached the full, the rapture of it touched the hearts of +all who listened. The song was finished. A hush fell upon the Masters +and people alike. But only for a moment; soon a glad shout arose: + +"Master Singer! Master Singer!" + +And Sir Walter von Stolzing knew that the victory was his. + +They led him to the fair Eva and placed her hand in his. While the +people waved and sang, she placed a wreath of laurel upon his head. It +was his beautiful dream coming true. Then the Masters hung a chain of +gold around his neck, which showed that he was a member of the guild. +Sir Walter thought of the treatment that he had received the day before +at the trial meeting, and he was about to refuse. But Hans Sachs arose +and spoke gravely of the reverence due to the Art of Song. And Walter +forgot his bitterness, and thought only of his love and future happiness +with Eva by his side. + +And so with the people singing, + + "Hail, all hail + Nuremberg's beloved Hans Sachs," + +Midsummer Day and the Song Festival came to an end. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +LOHENGRIN, THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN + + +I + +Long years ago a maiden, fair as the morning itself, wandered through a +lonely greenwood in the Duchy of Brabant. She was Elsa, only daughter of +the late Duke of Brabant, who had died but a short time before this +story begins. + +Although Elsa was the rightful owner of all the wooded lands and fertile +fields for miles and miles around, she was far from happy. Although +summer lay warm and fragrant over those lands, and flowers blossomed +along her pathway, yet Elsa's heart was heavy within her. She was full +of sorrow. For, not long before, while walking in those self-same woods, +her brother Godfrey had suddenly and unaccountably disappeared from her +side. Elsa had searched and searched. She had wept, she had prayed, +but all in vain. No trace of him had she found anywhere. Spent with +grief and anxiety, she had run to her guardian, Frederick of Telramund, +and told him the story. But Frederick had repulsed her with unkind +glances and cruel words. He had even accused her of doing away with her +poor brother, that she might claim the entire Duchy of Brabant for +herself. + +This guardian, Frederick of Telramund, knew well enough that Elsa was +incapable of so foul a deed. He knew that she had loved her brother +Godfrey far too well to do him harm. But Frederick had coveted the rich +lands and vast possessions of Brabant for many a year. And he was +determined to get them now by fair means or foul. Moreover, he had +married the pagan princess Ortrud, who was every whit as evil-minded and +ambitious as he. Ortrud's father, a heathen prince, had once owned part +of Brabant, and they were confident that, with Godfrey and Elsa out of +the way, they could lay claim to the whole Duchy. How they plotted and +schemed together against poor Elsa! + +Do you wonder, then, that Elsa walked through the forest on that morning +long ago, with downcast eyes, oblivious to all save her own sad +thoughts? Her father was dead, her brother was gone, her guardian had +proved false. To whom should she turn for guidance? Weary and perplexed, +she sank down beneath the sheltering branches of a friendly tree near +by. All was calm and still. Her tired eyes rested upon the deep blue +dome of the sky, and thoughts of God, the All-Father, filled her mind. +Ah, she could put her trust in Him. And a prayer for help arose from her +heart. Perhaps it was the answer to her prayer, perhaps it was only a +dream, but then and there Elsa saw a marvelous vision. The heavens +opened, and disclosed a noble knight. Enveloped in heavenly light, this +knight descended to earth, and stood before Elsa. He smiled upon her, +and, like a miracle, she became tranquil and unafraid. He was so strong, +so stalwart, so brave! His shining white armor glittered in the +sunlight. A glistening sword hung by his side, a golden horn from his +shoulder. His eyes were kind. There was comfort in his voice. + +"Arise!" spoke he, "and go your way. Be of good cheer, and fear not, for +when your need is sorest, I will come to defend you." + +Then he vanished. Elsa was alone in the greenwood. + + +II + +Just at this time the King of all Germany came down to Brabant. With +pomp and ceremony he came, bringing rough knights from Saxony and brave +nobles from Thuringia, all good men and true, to bear him company. + +Henry the First was he, a wise king and a just. People called him Henry +the Fowler because he was so fond of hunting. It may be, however, that +it was not the hunt that he loved so much as the great out-of-doors, the +wide plains, the wild forests, the winding rivers. Whenever he summoned +his faithful subjects to discuss affairs of peace or war, he chose some +meeting place under the blue sky, in God's temple, where men breathe +deeply, think clearly, and judge rightly. + +So, when at Brabant King Henry found no duke to greet him; when, +instead, he heard of strife, of discord, and of strange whispers, he sat +himself down beneath a giant oak on the bank of the winding river +Scheldt. And the trumpeters blew a great blast, the herald proclaimed +the King's presence, the trusty men who had come to bear him company +stood at arms, while the Brabantians gathered from north and south, from +east and west, of the Duchy to hearken to the King's word. + +"I had come here, my good people," began the King, "to ask the aid of +your forces in subduing the wild Hungarian foe. Full well do I know +that as loyal German subjects you are ready to answer your country's +call. But I find discord in your midst, strife and confusion. Therefore +have I called you together to learn the causes thereof and to deal +justly with the offenders, be it possible." + +The people of Brabant were pleased with the King's words and looked to +Frederick of Telramund to make answer. Frederick arose. Behind him stood +his wife, the dark-haired princess Ortrud, ready to prompt him should he +hesitate. + +But false Frederick did not hesitate. His voice did not tremble, +although he spoke with much show of grief. He made a low obeisance to +the King and besought sympathy for the sad tale he was about to tell. He +told how the dying Duke had intrusted Elsa and Godfrey to his care, how +tenderly he had reared them, how devotedly he had loved them, and how +sorely the mysterious disappearance of Godfrey had grieved him. And +then, he continued, he had been forced to believe that Elsa had murdered +her brother in order to claim the whole Duchy for herself--or +mayhap--for some secret lover. Therefore he, Frederick of Telramund, and +his wife Ortrud, by right of inheritance, besought the King to make them +Duke and Duchess of Brabant. + +"An astounding story indeed!" The free-men muttered to each other. The +nobles looked at Frederick and shook their heads. "The man must be sure +of his proof to make such an accusation," said they, as they turned +toward the King. + +King Henry sat with bowed head, in deep thought. He ran his hand over +his forehead, pondered a moment, and then murmured: + +"So foul a deed!" + +Aloud he said: + +"I would see this maid. I would look upon her face. I would hear her +tale. And may God guide my judgment aright." + +Hanging his shield on the giant oak behind him, King Henry swore never +to wear it again until justice had been done. And all the German nobles +drew their swords and thrust them, points down, into the ground, +swearing never to wear them again until justice had been done. And the +men of Brabant laid their swords at their feet, swearing the same. Then +the herald summoned Elsa. + +She came, the fair-haired Elsa, clad all in white, with her train of +ladies, all in white, behind her. They paused, and she, with hands +clasped and eyes cast down, advanced timidly, slowly, alone, until she +stood before the King. Her golden hair, unbound, hung a cloud of glory +about her. How young she was! How lovely! The rough knights gazed upon +her, and their eyes filled with tears. Surely no maiden with such a face +could be guilty of such a crime. + +The King spoke very gently. Was she Elsa of Brabant? She bowed her +head. Did she know the heavy charge that had been brought against her? +She bowed again. Was she willing that he, King Henry, should judge her? +Once more her head was bowed in assent. And it was only when the King +asked whether she was guilty of this murder that Elsa found voice. She +wrung her hands piteously, and exclaimed, "Oh, my poor, poor brother!" + +A dreamy look was upon Elsa's face as she told her story. Her voice +trembled, and her eyes strayed over the distant hills. It was as though +she saw it all again. + +She told of that day in the woods, her sad walk alone, her deep grief, +her utter weariness. She told of her rest beneath the friendly tree and +of the blue heaven overhead. But when she told of her prayer to God for +guidance in her distress, her faltering voice grew stronger, braver. +Rapturously, she told of her dream, and of the noble knight whose white +armor had glittered in the sunlight, of his sword, his horn, and, +last, of his promise. + +"Him will I trust!" she cried. "He shall my Champion be!" + +The knights, the nobles, the King, were startled. But Frederick of +Telramund cried out. + +"Such words do not mislead me. See! does she not speak of a secret +lover? What further proof do you need? Here stand I, and here's my +sword, both ready to fight for my honor." + +Now since King Henry believed that God in His wisdom would surely give +might to the hands that fought for Right, he asked Frederick if he were +ready to fight for life or death to uphold this charge that he had +brought. + +Frederick answered, "Yes." + +Then the King turned to Elsa, and asked her if she were willing to have +her champion fight for life or death to prove her blameless. + +Elsa answered, "Yes," and, to the great astonishment of all, named her +unknown knight as her champion. + +"None other will I have," she said. "He will come to defend me, and upon +him will I bestow my father's lands. Aye, should he deign to wed me, I +will be his bride." + +"Then cry out the summons," ordered the King. + +The herald stepped forth with his trumpeters four. Placing one to the +east and one to the west, one to the north, and one to the south, he +bade them blow a great blast. + +"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!" + +The trumpet's call, the herald's words, fell on the clear air. The echo +sounded and resounded. There was a long pause. All was still. + +The dark-haired Ortrud curled her lips scornfully, and an evil smile lit +the face of Frederick of Telramund. + +"Once more, O King!" implored Elsa, "once more let the summons be +sounded!" and she fell upon her knees at his feet. + +The King nodded. The trumpeters blew another blast. Again the herald +cried out: + +"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!" + +Again the notes died away on the clear air. Again the echo sounded, +resounded. Another long pause. All was as still as before. Only the +voice of Elsa in prayer was heard. Oh, how she prayed! Her need was +great. Surely the noble knight of her dream would not fail her. God had +sent him to her in the greenwood. He would send him now. She would put +her trust in Him. And she bowed her head in her hands. + +Suddenly the men on the river bank were seen peering eagerly into the +distance. They beckoned, they waved, they whispered. Others ran to join +them. And they, too, gazed, then pointed excitedly down the river. What +strange sight was there? What was it that glittered, glistened from +afar? Its brightness dazzled the eyes. Ah! it was lost to view behind +the curving shore. No, it appeared again. Behold a wonder! A swan, a +snow-white swan was gliding gracefully toward them. It drew a boat, a +silver boat. And in the boat, erect, his bright armor glittering in the +sun, stood a knight. He leaned upon his sword. A helmet was on his head, +a shield on his shoulder, a horn by his side. The swan drew him nearer. +He approached the very bank. Oh, wondrous sight! A gallant knight had +been sent by Heaven to defend the fair-haired maiden. Might had come to +fight for Right. + +The men were awestruck. In silence, entranced, they gazed at the swan, +the boat, the Heaven-appointed knight. The King, from his seat beneath +the giant oak, surveyed the scene in bewilderment. Elsa felt the +excitement, heard the murmurs, still dared not lift her head. But the +face of Frederick was dark and gloomy to see, and Ortrud cowered down +in terror and shuddered strangely when she beheld the snow-white swan. + +The noble knight had stepped to the shore. Casting a loving look at his +dear swan, he bade it a tender farewell, and watched it sadly as it +glided away, over the water, around the curve, out of sight. + +Then he turned. Elsa, rising, uttered a cry of joy when she saw his +face. It was he! The noble knight of her dream! So strong, so stalwart, +so brave! He had come. There Was naught to fear. + +Solemnly, with long strides, armor glistening, sword clanking, helmet in +hand, the Swan Knight advanced and stood before the King. He made a low +obeisance, then announced that he had come to champion a guiltless maid +who had been falsely accused of a woeful crime. He looked at Elsa. + +"Elsa," he said, "do you choose me as your defender?" + +"Yes," she cried. + +"And if I prove victorious, will you be my bride?" + +"Yes." + +Surely there was little that she would not promise this noble knight who +had come from afar to defend her. And Elsa threw herself at his feet, +vowing to give him all she had, even her life, if need be. But the Swan +Knight raised her and, looking into her eyes, asked but one promise, a +strange one. If he was to defend her, if he was to be her husband, she +must trust him utterly. She must never ask his name. No, she must not +even think of it, or who he was, or from whence he came. + +At that moment it seemed very easy for Elsa to promise so simple a +thing. But the Swan Knight was very solemn, and he repeated the words +slowly, saying,-- + + "Mark this well, Elsa. + These questions ask me never, + Nor think upon them ever, + From whence I hither came, + What is my rank or name." + +She listened carefully, then promised gladly never to doubt him, always +to obey him. It was such a little thing, and was he not her shield, her +angel, her preserver? + +So the King arranged the fight. Three Saxons advanced for the Swan +Knight, three men of Brabant for Frederick of Telramund. With three +solemn paces they measured the ground. The King struck his sword three +times against his shield, and the battle was on. + + "Oh, let the arm of Right be strong, + And feeble be the arm of Wrong," + +sang the men. + +And it was so. God gave Might to the arm of the Knight. But a few passes +and falsehood and deceit were vanquished. Frederick the Traitor lay +prostrate on the ground with the sword of the Swan Knight pointed at his +throat. Still the Knight spared his life. He bade him go his way and +sin no more. + +Justice had been done. King Henry took his shield from the tree behind +him. The Saxons, the Thuringians, the Brabantians, resumed their swords. +God had been with them that day under the blue sky, and so amid great +rejoicing they bore Elsa and her Swan Knight from the field. + + +III + +Night hung over the palace. Sounds of revelry, a trumpet's blast, burst +from the gayly illuminated abode of the knights. But within the +apartments of the Duchess Elsa all was dark and still. + +Opposite stood the cathedral wherein, on the morrow, Elsa would become +the Swan Knight's bride. Though the delicate spires of the cathedral +pointed to a starry sky, dark shadows lurked about the portico. And in +the gloom of these shadows, two figures sat, two abject, miserable +figures,--Frederick of Telramund and Ortrud his wife. Despoiled of their +rich garments and shunned by all, they knew not which way to turn. Since +the Stranger Knight was now Guardian of Brabant, banishment was their +fate, poverty their portion. + +After the manner of evildoers, each charged the other with their +misfortune. False Frederick, who had been willing enough to listen to +the promptings of his witch-wife, now upraided her for having used +sorcery to accomplish her wicked ends. It was she who had urged him to +falsehood, he said; she who had induced him to turn traitor; she who had +blackened his ancient name and besmirched his honor. Stung to fury by +the recital of his woes, he called her evil names. He even wished for +his sword in order to strike her dead. + +But Ortrud was not a sorceress for nothing. She knew how to cool his +wrath. She taunted him, in turn, for showing cowardice in the fight. +She called him weak of heart and feeble of purpose. She spoke thus: "Who +is this Swan Knight who has vanquished the once powerful Frederick? From +whence has he come? And what is his power? Only witchcraft has brought +him, witchcraft and magic. And magic will take him away. If but one +small point of his body can be injured, he will be helpless and at our +mercy." + +Frederick took heart when he heard these words. Perhaps all was not over +yet. Perhaps Ortrud's black magic and his strength could be used to some +purpose before the marriage day dawned. If doubt could be instilled into +the mind of Elsa, if she could be made to forget her promise, the spell +would be broken. Or, if the Swan Knight could be weakened, they would +regain their lost power over Brabant. So they plotted and planned, heads +close together, as the night wore away. + +Toward morning a light glimmered in the apartments of the lovely Elsa. +Soon she appeared on the balcony singing a little song. + +Ortrud crept near and called to her. She called in a piteous tone, her +voice full of misery. She wept loudly and begged meekly for forgiveness. +She pretended a repentance for all her former misdeeds that she was far +from feeling. + +Elsa looked down and listened. When she beheld the once haughty Ortrud +clad in rags, on her knees, her heart melted. She held out her hands in +pity. That was just what the wicked Ortrud was waiting for. The rest was +easy. A few more tears, a little more make-believe penitence, and she +knew she would be forgiven. And sad to tell, it was so. Elsa, full of +love and new-found happiness, took Ortrud into her abode. She gave her a +splendid gown and allowed her to assist in the marriage preparations. +And the wicked Ortrud improved her opportunities. Artfully, she turned +the conversation to the approaching wedding, to the Stranger Knight who +had come by magic. Was not Elsa afraid that he would just as magically +disappear? But Elsa need not fear. Ortrud would always be her friend. + +Elsa tried to shake off the disquiet that Ortrud's words caused. But the +seed of suspicion was planted in her mind, and it grew, just as the +wicked Ortrud meant that it should. + +Meanwhile from his place behind the dark pillars of the cathedral, +Frederick had seen the first rosy streaks of dawn appear in the East. He +had heard the watchman in the tower give the signal of the new day, and +he had seen the answer flash from the distant turret. Rage overwhelmed +him. For he knew that Elsa's marriage morn had come. + +The sleeping palace awoke to life and activity. Servants hurried to and +fro preparing for the festival. The herald stepped forth followed by his +trumpeters four. They summoned the people, who came in gala array from +all sides. Groups of richly clad nobles walked proudly down the palace +steps and stood before the cathedral, waiting. All eyes were fixed upon +the balcony before the abode of the Duchess Elsa. + +All at once, a number of pages appeared there. They descended, two by +two, clearing the way to the cathedral steps and crying aloud: + + "Make way, make way, + Our Lady Elsa comes!" + +The crowd, hushed and expectant, fell back. Then, down the stairway, +across the balcony, came a long train of fair ladies. Their satin +dresses swept the ground. Bright jewels sparkled and flashed as they +advanced slowly toward the cathedral steps. There they halted, ranging +themselves on each side to allow the Duchess Elsa to pass between them. +She, the fairest of them all, walked alone. + +Her dress of richest brocade trailed its heavy folds behind her. Ropes +of pearls were about her neck, and bound her golden hair. Her head was +held high, and her face was more beautiful than anything else in the +world. For joy illumined it and made it shine like a star. Was she not +going to meet her Knight, him whom God had sent to defend her? + +Her foot was upon the lowest step. She was about to ascend to the +cathedral when she was rudely pushed aside. Ortrud had sprung forward, +crying,-- + +"Get back! I'll go first. My rank is higher than yours, and I shall not +walk behind you!" + +Elsa turned in astonishment. Was this the meek Ortrud who had come to +her begging forgiveness, pleading repentance? + +The people cried out in anger. But Ortrud, unheeding, went on: + +"My husband may be in disgrace, but he is greater than you all. He will +rule you yet. As for the husband you are to marry,--" and she looked at +the frightened Elsa,--"who is he? What is his rank? You dare not even +ask his name!" + +Poor Elsa protested. She tried to say that she did not care to know her +Swan Knight's name. Heaven had sent him, and she was content. His face +bore the stamp of noble birth, and she would always trust him. But her +voice faltered as she spoke. The seed of suspicion had taken root, and +dark doubts arose to torment her. + +At that moment, when the consternation was greatest, the King appeared +on the palace steps. With him, in proud array, were the good men and +true who had come to bear him company. And following them all was the +Swan Knight. His bearing seemed nobler than ever, as he trod proudly +forward to claim his bride. + +But when he saw the wicked Ortrud and the false Frederick, who by this +time had joined in denouncing him and questioning his name, his face +clouded. King Henry, also, seeing the strife, pressed forward through +the crowd, giving orders to push aside the wicked couple. + +The Swan Knight took Elsa tenderly into his arms for a moment, looking +deep into her eyes. Then, led by the King, the marriage procession +proceeded into the cathedral. + + +IV + +The wedding festival was over. With flaming torches held aloft and +joyous voices raised in song, the procession of ladies and nobles led +the bride and bridegroom to their flower-bedecked chamber. Then, +showering blessings upon them, they departed. The torchlights faded in +the distance; the sound of march and song grew faint. It died away. Elsa +and her Swan Knight were alone. + +There was a brief silence while they gazed at each other in rapture. +She, so lovely, was his inmost heart's desire. He, so brave, was the +beloved Knight of her dream. Their voices grew soft with happiness, and +on their faces was the glow of a deep joy. + +Too soon, however, at the sound of her name on her lover's lips, a shade +stole over Elsa's bright face. "Ah!" thought she, "I can never call him +by his name, for I shall never know what it is." Then, like a flash, all +of Ortrud's taunts came to her mind. And following them, all the dark +doubts, the vague suspicions, arose again to torment her. + +First she sat in moody silence. But soon a strange curiosity showed +itself in her speech. Would the fetters that bound the Swan Knight's +lips ne'er be loosened? Must she, his wife, always remain in ignorance? +If he loved her truly, he would surely whisper his secret ever so softly +into her ear. No one should ever know. She would guard the secret well, +locking it within her very heart. + +Thus she pleaded and begged, but the Swan Knight pretended not to hear +her. He spoke of other things, striving to distract her mind. + +But Elsa would not be put off. Her eyes were fixed upon the Knight, and +her face, but lately aglow with wonder and delight, was clouded with +unbelief and suspicion. + +The Knight was distressed by this sudden change. He reminded her gently +of the confidence that he had placed in her promise. He warned her +tenderly of the sorrows that would befall if she did not cease her +questioning. He had given up so much honor, yes, and glory besides, to +stay by her side. Would she not trust him utterly? + +Scarcely had Elsa heard the words "glory and honor" than a horrible fear +seized her. "He had come by magic," Ortrud had said, "and by magic he +would go." Now she knew how it would befall. Soon he would tire of her +and would return to the honor and glory from which he had come. Stricken +with terror, she fancied that she already heard the Swan coming to carry +him away. It was too much to bear! Cost what it might, she must learn +who he was. + +"Where do you come from?" she cried "Who are you?" + +"Ah, Elsa!" answered the Knight, sadly, "what have you done?" + +But before he could utter another word, Frederick of Telramund burst +into the room with drawn sword in hand. + +Elsa saw him first. She forgot her doubt. She forgot her question. She +thought only that the Swan Knight, her lover, was in danger. + +"Save yourself!" she shrieked. "Your sword, your sword!" She thrust it +into his hand. + +He drew it quickly. There was a short parry, one blow; and base +Frederick lay dead at the Swan Knight's feet. + +Then the Swan Knight turned to Elsa. His eyes were tender, but, oh, how +pitying! Their glance pierced Elsa's heart, and filled her with despair +for what she had done. His voice was sad as he bade her clothe herself +in bridal raiment and go before the King. There, on the morrow, he +would make fitting answer and tell her the rank he bore. And so saying, +he walked sorrowfully out of the flower-bedecked room. + +The next day dawned bright and clear. As was his wont, King Henry the +Fowler sat beneath the giant oak on the bank of the winding river +Scheldt. By his side stood the nobles from Saxony and Thuringia who had +come to bear him company. And before him were assembled the men of +Brabant, from north and south, from east and west, of the Duchy. + +Slowly, with measured strides, four men walked into their midst. They +bore the body of Frederick of Telramund on a bier, which they placed +before the King. + +The nobles looked anxiously at one another. What strange happening was +this? For, closely following, tottering feebly, came the Duchess Elsa +and her train of ladies. Solemnly they marched with eyes downcast, +while she, who but lately had been radiant with happiness, was sad and +pale. Her eyes, unseeing, stared in anguish straight ahead! + +The King stepped quickly forward. He looked inquiringly into her face as +he led her to a seat beside him. Elsa could not meet his eyes. She +moistened her lips twice, thrice, but no sound came. + +Just then a shout arose from the men: + + "Hail, all hail, + The hero of Brabant!" + +they cried. + +The Swan Knight entered. His armor glittered in the sunlight. A sword +hung at his side, a horn from his shoulder. How strong he was! How +brave! But how strangely sad was his face. He advanced, helmet in hand, +and stood before the King. Making a low obeisance, he strode toward the +bier of the dead Frederick. He uncovered the body, and then solemnly +asked the King's pardon for having killed this man who had stolen by +stealth upon him. + +"Nay, ask not our pardon!" spoke the just King. "We approve your deed!" + +And all the men of Brabant nodded in assent. + +But that was not all the Swan Knight had to tell. His wife, Elsa of +Brabant, had broken her promise. She had asked his name. And since it +was a law of the Order to which he belonged, he would make public answer +to her question. But then he must depart to the distant land from which +he had come. + +Astonishment spread like wildfire among the people. As for Elsa, she sat +like a creature of stone. Only Ortrud, who had crept near to listen, +smiled in ill-concealed triumph. + +The Swan Knight's face was suffused with holy light. The eyes of his +soul seemed to be peering far, far away into the distance beyond the +winding river, beyond the gray hills, perhaps to the very gates of +heaven itself. + +He told the tale of a marvelous Temple rising from the heights of +Mount Salvat, wherein, upon a mystic shrine, rested the sacred chalice +called the Holy Grail. He told of the few chosen knights who guarded the +wondrous Grail, and who, by its Heaven-given powers, were protected from +baneful harm and endowed with supernatural might. Whenever an innocent +cause needed a champion, whenever a grievous wrong had been done, one of +the knights sallied forth and defended the one who had been falsely +accused. But it was a law that no one might know from whence he came or +by what name he was called. For if once the truth were revealed, his +power was gone; the knight must hasten back to the Temple of the Grail. + +The Swan Knight's voice rose higher. Like some rare, sweet strain of +music, it fell upon the air: + + "The Grail obeying, here to you I came; + My father Parsifal, a crown he weareth, + His Knight am I and Lohengrin my name!" + +The shadow of a great awe crept into the eyes of all who heard. They +stared at Lohengrin in silence. + +Only Elsa sank moaning to the ground. Lohengrin caught her in his arms. + +"Oh, Elsa, dear one," he cried, "why did you strive to learn my secret? +Now I must leave you forever. Had you but remained faithful to your +promise for one year, even your brother Godfrey would have come back to +you. Here is my sword, my horn, my ring. Should he ever return, give +them to him. The sword will help him in battle, the horn will give him +aid in an hour of need, and the ring will remind him of Lohengrin, who +defended you. Now farewell! The Grail calls me. My swan is here." + +While he had been speaking, the snow-white swan, drawing the empty boat, +had glided quietly up the winding river. It stood at the shore. The +people gazed at it mournfully. Even Lohengrin greeted it in sadness. + +Suddenly the dark-haired Ortrud, who had been watching, approached the +shore. She leaned over the snow-white swan, and when she saw the golden +circlet about its neck, she laughed fiendishly. + +"It is he!" she cried. "It is Godfrey! My magic changed him into a swan, +and a swan he shall remain!" and she grinned exultingly at Elsa. + +Lohengrin, about to enter the boat, stopped at the sound of Ortrud's +voice. He listened a moment. Then he fell upon his knees and prayed, +while all the people waited breathlessly. + +His prayer was lifted up in silence and borne, who shall say where--to +what High and Holy presence? For as he prayed a white dove descended and +hovered over the boat. + +Seeing that his prayer was answered, Lohengrin rose to his feet +enraptured. He took the chain from the neck of the swan. The swan sank +into the water. And where it had been stood Godfrey, the rightful Duke +of Brabant. + +Elsa fell into her brother's arms with a glad cry. Then together they +watched Lohengrin enter his boat which, drawn by the dove, glided slowly +down the winding river, and out of mortal sight forevermore. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE FLYING DUTCHMAN + + +I + +A storm on the ocean is a fearful thing to see. It roars, it flashes, it +races huge waves mountain-high one after the other, it dashes them +furiously against the sharp rocks, it howls, it blows, and it tosses +great ships about as though they were tiny toys. + +Once, long, long ago there was just such a storm as this off the Cape of +Good Hope, that most southern point of Africa. For the Evil Spirit who +ruled the seas in those days, and who had many servants to do his +bidding, had ordered one of them, the Wind Storm, to sweep over the +waters far and wide. Perhaps the Evil Spirit wanted to add to the +treasures that he had gathered from all the ships he had +wrecked--treasures that he kept far beneath the water. + +At any rate, the Wind Storm did as he was told. He lashed the mighty +waves into anger so that they crashed against the jagged rocks of the +Cape, and all the ships that were abroad scudded swiftly along before +him in fear. + +"Go home," whistled the Wind Storm through the sails. "Go back to your +safe harbors. There is no room for you on this sea. I need it +all--all--all." + +And the ships scurried into their harbors--all but one. The captain of +that ship was not afraid of the Wind Storm nor of the Evil Spirit, +either, for that matter. His ship was strong, and so was his will. He +was determined to go around the Cape. He stood at the prow while the +ship rocked violently to and fro. The salt spray dashed over him, but +still he defied the Wind Storm. + +"I will not go back," he cried, and he swore a mighty oath. "I'll sail +on and round that Cape if I sail forever." + +Now the Evil Spirit happened to be lurking beneath the angry waters, +and he heard the oath. + +"Very well," cried he. "Sail on forever and ever, then! Sail on until +you find a maiden fair who will be willing to die for love of you!" + +And so it came to pass. Through all the long years that followed, the +ship sailed on and on. In fair or foul weather, over smooth or stormy +seas, under blue or gray skies, the strange voyage continued year after +year. + +Sometimes the captain in his despair would steer straight for the craggy +rocks, hoping to be dashed to pieces, but the rocks would not harm his +ship. He steered in the path of terrible pirates, but when the pirates +saw the ship, they crossed themselves and hurried away. The blustering +tempest would not harm it, nor the eddying whirlpool. It just sailed on +and on. + +The sailors, who had been young and lively, grew old and silent. Their +hearts were as gray as their heads, for though the days grew into +weeks, the weeks into years, the years into centuries, still there was +no rest for them. Their faces became as white as ghosts, and some say +that the blood left their bodies and crept into the sails. At any rate, +the strong, white ship turned black and weather-beaten, and the strong, +white sails, red, red as blood. + +Only the captain remained forever young and handsome, and each seven +years as the ship sailed into some harbor, he was allowed to go on shore +to seek the maiden fair who would deliver him and his crew from their +fate and set them at rest. But alas! no such maiden had he ever found. +Many maidens had he met and loved, and many had loved him, too, but to +be true to him forever and to die for him,--that was quite another +matter. + +And so each time "The Flying Dutchman" had gone on again, until once at +the end of a seven years' period he came to the coast of Norway. + + +II + +Heigho, heigho! sang the sailors of a gay Norwegian bark as they cast +anchor in a sheltered bay on the coast of Norway to escape the tempest, +which had been tossing them about on the open sea. What though the south +wind had driven them a few miles out of their course? The sunrise of +another day would find them safe at home after their long voyage. In +fancy, they could already see the dear ones on the shore, waving, +smiling, welcoming! So "heigho, heigho for to-morrow!" sang they. + +Only Daland, the captain, was full of gloom. Impatient was he, also, for +had he not expected to spend that very night by his own fireside with +his daughter Senta? And now to wait here, so near and yet so far, with a +raging sea between him and his peaceful home, was an ordeal, indeed. To +battle with those angry waves had been no easy task, either. A little +sleep would not harm him, thought he. + +Now you must know that in those days the seas were full of dread pirates +and bold robbers who prowled about seeking plunder, and so, before +Daland lay down to sleep, he called his steersman and bade him keep +sharp watch. The steersman did--for a little while. But he, too, was +tired. First he sang right lustily a merry song about the distant climes +where he had traveled, and of the kind winds that would send him back to +his sweetheart. Soon, however, his voice faltered; it grew fainter and +fainter. His head nodded once, twice. He, too, was asleep. + +Then, while no one watched, slowly, quietly, out of the west, came an +old weather-beaten vessel with red, red sails, straight into that very +bay. Only you and I know whence it came, and how endless had been its +wanderings. So silently did it sail, so ghostly were its movements, that +no one on all Daland's boat heard a single sound. No one heard the +noiseless dropping of the anchor, the lowering of those red, red sails. +Nor did any one hear the sigh of relief with which the worn sailors +crept away to their berths, nor see the hope and longing that lit their +pale faces as they saw their captain spring eagerly to the shore. + +Perhaps the captain stamped too heavily up and down on the wet sand, +glad to feel the solid earth under his feet once more. Perhaps he raised +his arms to heaven and cried aloud to God to help him now find the +maiden fair who would love him truly forever. Why, I do not know, but +just then Daland awoke with a start. + +A strange vessel alongside! How he chided the drowsy steersman! A +strange captain on the shore! Quickly he leaped to the sand to greet +him! + +"Whence come you?" asked Daland, "and whither are you going?" + +The Dutchman replied but little. "Holland," he said, "and a wanderer +seeking shelter for his vessel from the storm." Home he had none, nor +wife, nor child, and gladly would he pay of his treasures for one night +at somebody's hospitable hearth. + +And while Daland was marveling at this strange tale, and had begun to +tell of his own home so near and yet so far away, the stranger, at a +sign, had received a huge chest from his ship and was opening it before +Daland's eyes. + +If "all the wild flowers of the forest, all the lilies of the prairie," +all the glorious colors of sunrise and sunset, if the rainbow itself, +had been packed away in a chest to be suddenly opened before you, +perhaps you would have been surprised, too. Gold was there, and silver +was there, and the white sheen of pearls, and the bright sparkle of +diamonds, and the deep glow of rubies, all there dancing, glittering, in +Daland's astonished eyes. Was this some marvelous dream? When he found +that the treasure was real, he remembered Senta, and offered the +Dutchman his home for the night, telling him that his daughter ... + +The Dutchman caught the word "daughter." Had Daland a daughter? Would he +give her to him for a wife? And Daland, who had been thinking what a +fine husband such a man, with a ship full of treasures, would be for his +daughter, lost no time, and said yes. + +Then hope came again to the heart of the Dutchman. He was impatient to +see this maiden who, he silently prayed, might be the one to deliver him +from his fate. And while he prayed, the wind changed, the clouds broke, +a ray of sunshine peeped through, the sea became smooth as glass. + +"You'll see her this day," said Daland. + +And so, bidding the sailors raise anchor, Daland went aboard his boat, +the Dutchman aboard his, and with a heigho, heigho, they sailed out of +the bay. + + +III + +Daland's home stood, as a sailor's home should, near the sea. Through +its white-curtained windows one could see far out over the blue water, +to the broad horizon, where ships hovered like white birds against the +sky. + +Inside the house all was as sweet and clean as the willing hands of old +Marie, the house-keeper, could make it. The walls, rough and unpainted, +were almost covered with flat blue maps and sailor's charts, save where, +over the wide doorway, a single picture hung. + +It was the picture of a man; a man with a pale face, a long, black +beard, and strange, foreign-looking clothes. But I do not need to tell +you who he was. You know the story behind those melancholy eyes that +looked out so sadly from the picture. You have heard it this very day. + +Had you entered that sunny room on a certain afternoon long, long ago, +you would have seen a group of happy girls, under the direction of +Marie, all diligently spinning. And, had you stopped to listen, you +would have heard merry chatter and light-hearted snatches of song +mingled with the whir-r, whir-r, whir-r-r of those quick-turning wheels. +How they joked, and laughed, and sang, those girls of long ago! + +Did I say all? No, not all. For there was one who sat quite apart, her +idle hands in her lap, her young face uplifted, and her dreaming eyes +fixed on the portrait over the door. She was Senta, the daughter of +Daland. + +Once, when Senta was very young, old Marie had told her the history of +that pale man in the picture, and the sadness of his fate, and that of +his unhappy crew, had touched her tender heart. And, because she was an +imaginative girl, who fancied strange things, the picture of the Flying +Dutchman, wandering over unknown seas, came back to her mind again and +again. She thought of him by day; she dreamed of him by night. She even +began to imagine that God had destined her to be that maiden fair whose +love would deliver him from his mournful roaming. But certainly she +never breathed such a strange thought to a single soul. + +Until that day! Then, as all the busy girls laughingly teased her for +her idleness, and twitted her for being in love with a mere shadow +instead of with the real, strong, young hunter Eric, who wanted to marry +her, she grew impatient. To still their chatter, she cried out +fretfully: + +"Oh, girls, cease your foolish songs and your spinning! I am tired of +all the humming and buzzing. Do you want me to join you? Listen, and +I'll sing the ballad of the Flying Dutchman. Then you'll know why his +sad fate touches my heart." + +Senta began her singing. The girls stopped their wheels to listen, and +as they listened, their eyes grew round with wonder. They, too, pitied +the poor captain and his unhappy crew. But when Senta described these +aimless wanderings that nothing could change except that maiden fair who +would be willing to die for love, the girls interrupted her. + +"Oh!" cried they. "Where in all the world is there such a maiden?" + +"Here!" answered Senta, and she sang: + + "Angel above, oh! bring to me + The pale man sailing o'er the sea!" + +Do you wonder that all the girls, even Marie, started up in alarm when +they heard that strange prayer? No doubt they thought Senta had gone out +of her mind. Loudly they called, until Eric the hunter came running into +the room. He reasoned, he pleaded with Senta, but all in vain. She could +think of nothing but the story of the man whose picture hung on the +wall. + +Just when the excitement was greatest, a cry from without told of the +approach of Daland's boat. There was no time for foolish thoughts, then. +A meal must be prepared, the table set, the glasses filled! Away hurried +the girls and old Marie. + +In a moment Daland was at the door. Who was that pale visitor, so +strangely like the picture above his head, entering behind him? Senta +stared from one to the other. She could scarcely greet her father. She +knew at once who this stranger was, just as you know and as I know. But +Daland knew not. + +He, proud and happy, thinking of that ship full of treasures, lost no +time in telling Senta that this was the man he had chosen to be her +husband on the morrow, if she were willing. + +Senta was quite willing, for had she not loved this stranger for a long, +long time? As for the Flying Dutchman, he gazed into those trusting +eyes, and was filled with a great joy and a greater hope. Often when +tossed about on the cruel waves had he dreamed of a maiden just as +fair, just as pure as this one who now stood before him. If she would +but be constant, all would be well, thought he. And, as he gazed, he +heard her sweet voice saying, + + "Whoever thou art, whatever thy fate, + I will be thy love, I will be thy mate." + + +IV + +The marriage feast was quickly prepared. The jolly sailor boys, the +pretty peasant girls, all lent helping hands, and soon the merrymaking +on board the gayly lighted ship began. Only on the black ship with the +red sails was there darkness and silence. + +Suddenly a young girl walked hastily down to the shore. It was Senta, +the daughter of Daland, and closely following her, came Eric the hunter. +He begged her to hearken to his wooing once more. He pleaded with her to +give up that mysterious stranger who had come between them. Had she +forgotten all her promises? Must her father's rash command be obeyed? + +Because Eric was an old friend, and because Senta was a kind-hearted +girl, she listened patiently to all that he had to say. Not that a +single word could have altered her determination to live and to die, if +need be, for the Flying Dutchman. She loved him too well for that. + +Even while she listened to Eric, she thought tenderly of her new lover +and of how good God had been to allow her to be the maiden fair who +would relieve his endless suffering. + +Perhaps it was just that tender thought showing in her face that the +Dutchman mistook for regret. For, at that very moment, when Eric was +pleading so earnestly, and Senta was listening so patiently, the +Dutchman came down to the shore. + +He looked first at Eric, then at Senta, and like a flash came the +thought that here was another girl who would not keep her promise. +There had been so many like that. He did not stop to ask or to reason. +Frantic with disappointment and despair, he rushed blindly over the +rocks toward his ship. + +"To sea! To sea forevermore!" cried he. + +Now, you know Senta had not ceased loving him at all. So, although Eric +tried to detain her, she ran swiftly after the Dutchman. She clung to +him, crying out her love, and vowing eternal faithfulness again and +again. So loudly did she cry, that Daland and Marie came hurrying, too. + +The Dutchman managed to loosen her arms, to free himself. He waved her +back, and a great change came over his face. Gone were all thoughts of +himself and of his sad fate. He thought only of this pure maiden who was +willing to die for his sake. He knew now that he loved her too well to +let her pay such an awful price. Rather would he sail on and on +forever. + +Warning her not to come nearer, he leaped into his boat. Then, as the +gray sailors unfurled the red, red sails and the black ship plunged +forward, he stretched out his arms and told who he was. "The Flying +Dutchman am I, the Scourge of the Sea," he shouted. + +Daland, Marie, Eric, crossed themselves and looked after him in horror. +Not so, Senta. She had always known who he was. She would save him. She +would be faithful until death. With a glad cry, she leaped forward and +cast herself into the seething sea. + +The waves closed over her. And as they closed a strange thing happened. +At the very same moment, the black ship, the red sails, the sailors, all +disappeared. Only a rosy light lay over the water where they had been. +And in that rosy light, which ascended from the blue water to the blue +sky, were seen, in close embrace, the angel forms of the Flying Dutchman +and his maiden fair, floating onward and upward, toward their eternal +rest. + + + + +[Illustration: THE WARTBURG] + + + + +TANNHÄUSER, THE MINSTREL KNIGHT + + +I + +This is a tale of long ago. It is a tale of the days of knighthood and +minstrelsy; of the days when field and forest rang with the clash of +arms, and baronial halls echoed with the sound of harp and voice; when +brave knights vied with one another not only in jousts and tourneys at +arms, but in tournaments of song as well. + +In those strange days a majestic castle, called the Wartburg, stood on a +lofty peak overlooking the green and peaceful valleys of Thuringia. The +Landgrave Herman and his niece, the beautiful Princess Elizabeth, lived +there, and they were attended by a splendid court of nobles, knights, +and fair ladies. + +The Wartburg was the scene of many gay festivals. Time and again the +good people of Thuringia would gather from near and far to watch +gallant, armor-clad knights ride out with lance and spear to mimic +warfare. But more often they would gather within the great castle hall +to listen to the melodies of well-tuned harps and sweet-voiced singers +in tournaments of song. + +The white hand of the beautiful Princess placed the laurel wreath of +victory most often upon the brow of one bold young Minstrel Knight, +Tannhäuser by name. His was the rarest gift of poetry, his the sweetest +voice. Nor was any one more beloved than he. His prowess in battle, his +skill with lance and spear, his fearless eye, had made him a favorite of +the Landgrave; while his noble bearing, the light touch of his fingers +upon the harp strings, and his clear young voice had won the heart of +the proud Princess. + +But Tannhäuser, unmindful of these great gifts of fortune, had, in a +rash moment, quarreled with his companions. Angry beyond reason, +forgetful of both friendship and love, he had cast himself away from the +Wartburg, and had sought the solace of solitude. + +Opposite the Wartburg, black and foreboding against the blue of the sky, +like a giant of old, towered a mountain, the Horselburg. And thither, +sad to relate, the footsteps of the errant Minstrel Knight led the way. + +Now, it seems that when Venus, the Goddess of Love, was banished from +the earth, she hid herself away from the eyes of all righteous men, deep +within the heart of that very mountain, the Horselburg. Brooding over +her fancied wrongs, she lived there and plotted evil against mankind. +Her domain was a wonderful cave, all shadows and mystery; and her +subjects were strange creatures of the underworld. And, the story went, +from a couch of gold where she sat arrayed in richest garments, she +lured guileless wanderers through an unseen portal in the mountain +side, straight into her kingdom. And while her siren voice cast its +spell, while her fatal beauty wove its charm, the poor wanderer was +powerless. He followed, and followed, forever and a day, and knew not +where. But the face of the earth saw him no more. + +Do you wonder, with such a story abroad, that the Horselburg was shunned +by old and young? But what cared the bold Minstrel Knight for strange +goddesses or their powers? Tannhäuser was clad in all the trappings of +knighthood; he had his armor, his lance; the harp of his minstrelsy hung +by his side. So he came to the foot of the Horselburg, dreamily, +heedlessly, but unafraid. + +Still, as he paused to rest beneath an over-hanging rock at the mouth of +a cave, he fancied that he heard the sound of rushing water. He started, +looking both to the right and to the left. There was no water to be +seen. A moment later the faint tinkle of bells fell upon his ear; then +the echo of a distant melody followed. He arose and peered into the +cave. His venturesome spirit prompted him to take one step +forward,--then another. Through the shadows he detected the glimmer of +many lights, now red, now violet, now blue. What was the rosy haze that +enveloped him? And the faint music that drew him on and on? A delicate +odor assailed his nostrils. A delicious languor overcame him. "Where am +I?" he called. But the only answer was the clang as of a closing door, +and the sound of a rippling laugh. A moment later, led by unseen magic, +blinded by light and overpowered by sound, he stumbled into a region of +enchantment, into the presence of Venus herself. + +A fascinating, bewitching goddess was Venus, and Tannhäuser lingered at +her feet for a long time. Her magic drew a veil before his eyes, which +blinded and enthralled him. And he mistook the mocking cruelty of her +face for beauty and the lure of her glance for kindness and love. So he +played upon his harp and sang marvelous new songs to her and knelt +before her to pay her homage. He forgot all about the past, his +knighthood, his minstrelsy, his home, his friends. He even forgot his +God. + +Nymphs danced before him, elfin creatures made music for him, strange +flowers delighted his eyes, and all was an unceasing round of pleasure +day after day. There was no sun to shine, no moon, no stars. Spring +never came, nor winter. It was all as though the world had never been. + +Still there came a day at last when Tannhäuser awoke. He awoke as if +from a dream. For a sound had pierced the very rocks and reached his +ears. It was the chime of distant church bells. + +Tannhäuser ran his hand across his forehead and staggered to his feet. +He remembered. + +With the remembrance came a loathing and a longing that were pain. He +hated the perfume-laden mists about him, the strange flowers, and the +nymphs with their songs and endless whirling dances. He longed for a +breath of pure woodland air, for the sight of rain-freshened grass, for +the sound of the lark's song at dawn. + +So he seized his harp and sang to Venus and begged her to let him go +back to earth. + +"Oh, goddess," he implored, "let me go." + +But Venus only smiled a dreamy smile and spoke in soft whispers of the +charm of her domain. And the dancers circled about in a maddening whirl, +ever faster and faster. The odor of the strange flowers became still +heavier. Sparkling points of light gleamed among the shadows. A +mysterious blue lake appeared in the hazy distance, and misty clouds of +rose and gold floated in the air. + +But Tannhäuser still remembered. He loathed the never-ending delights; +the ceaseless ease and rest; the songs, the odors, the mist. Ah! for +but a sight of Heaven's clear blue, its clouds and sun of noonday, its +moon and stars of night; the changing round of seasons, seed time and +harvest; the mingled joys and pains; and work, thrice-blessed work! + +Tannhäuser took up his harp and sang to Venus once more. The strings +rang with the vigor of his touch; his voice soared high in +heart-stirring refrain. He promised that as long as he had life he would +sing the praises of Venus. Wherever he might roam, her name--and hers +alone--would bring a song to his lips. As her champion would he fare +forth upon the earth again. All this he promised, if she would only set +him free. + +Anger overwhelmed the goddess--but she hesitated no longer. Let him +spread her fame and name through the upper world that had banished her! +With one sweep of her arms she broke the chains of enchantment that +bound Tannhäuser fast. Crying,-- + +"If all hope is lost, return to me!" she bade him depart. + +At that moment a terrific crash rent the air. It seemed as though the +earth had been burst asunder. The mists, the gleaming figures, the cave, +disappeared; and-- + +Tannhäuser found himself lying on a grassy knoll in a sunlit valley. On +one side was the black and gloomy Horselburg; on the other a lofty peak +crowned by the Wartburg, stately, grand, majestic, as of yore. + +Flowers bloomed all about; the sky was serene and beautiful; birds sang; +a gentle breeze swayed the trees. + +From the cliff above came the sound of a pipe. A young shepherd was +watching his flock there, and he sang a tender little song, all +sweetness and melody. The simple beauty of it, the purity, touched +Tannhäuser's heart, and as he listened his eyes filled with tears. + +Suddenly the sonorous tones of men's voices filled the air. Then down +the winding pathway and through the valley came the tramp, tramp, +tramp, of many feet. And to the solemn strains of a song of prayer a +band of pilgrims passed slowly by on the way to Rome to seek pardon for +their sins. The little shepherd bared his head until the last pilgrim +had passed him by. Then, waving his cap, he shouted: + +"God speed, God speed! Say one prayer for me!" + +But Tannhäuser sat as one spellbound, until all at once, deeply +overcome, he fell upon his knees. Ah, where could _he_ look for pardon +for _his_ sins? The memory of all that ill-spent time in the Venusburg +rushed upon him. Could he pray to the God whom he had forgotten? Tears +choked his voice, and although a prayer arose from his heart it found no +utterance. He lay prone upon the ground, weeping bitterly. + +The song of the pilgrims, the measured tread of their feet, grew faint +and still fainter. It died away in the distance. Quiet ruled the +peaceful valley again, for even the shepherd boy had gathered his flock +and gone silently away. + +Soon, however, the cheery sound of hunters' horns and the answering bay +of dogs broke the silence. A moment later, a pack of dogs ran down the +forest path from the Wartburg, followed by the Landgrave Herman and his +Knights, all clad in hunting dress. + +Seeing the figure of a knight lying upon the ground, their curiosity was +at once aroused. One of the party, Sir Wolfram, ran hastily forward. A +single glance was enough. + +"Tannhäuser!" he cried. "Is it you?" + +Tannhäuser arose hastily, striving to control his emotion and bowed +mutely to the Landgrave. + +At first the Knights were uncertain whether he had come back as friend +or foe. But his humble, downcast looks soon spoke for him. So they +welcomed him gladly into their midst. + +But Tannhäuser was loath to stay. He knew that if once the Knights +learned where he had been, they would shrink from him in horror. Looking +into their friendly faces, he was overwhelmed with disgust for all that +wicked time in the Venusburg. He longed to fly from their sight. + +Since he would not listen to the entreaties of the Landgrave and his +Knights, Sir Wolfram, Tannhäuser's old friend, added his plea: + +"Have you forgotten Elizabeth?" he asked. + +"Elizabeth!" Tannhäuser exclaimed in a tone of awe,--Elizabeth, the +beautiful Princess, whose name he had forgotten--what of her? + +Then Wolfram, speaking softly,--for he loved the beautiful princess +also,--told Tannhäuser all. He told of that rare prize--the Princess's +love--which had remained constant during Tannhäuser's long absence. Many +Knights had striven to win her, but she had remained true to the one who +had gone away. While Tannhäuser had strayed in distant lands, she had +stayed in her bower saddened and alone, never gracing the tournaments +with her presence, never coming forth to witness joust or tourney. Would +he forsake a love like that? + +Deeply touched, Tannhäuser listened until the end. Then the light of a +great joy and a great hope illumined his face. If Elizabeth, the proud +Princess, had not forgotten him, perhaps he might still continue as a +Minstrel Knight in the Wartburg. + +"Lead me to her," he cried,--"to her." + +So the Landgrave sounded his horn, and to the lively baying of the dogs +and the joyous song of the Knights the whole party proceeded to the +Wartburg. + + +II + +When the news of Tannhäuser's return spread through the Wartburg, there +was great rejoicing. Smiles of gladness appeared on every face. Tall +knights held out hands of welcome; small pages hastened to do him honor. +Him whom they should have loathed, they greeted as a comrade, hailed as +a hero. For they knew not where he had been. + +And the joy of the Princess Elizabeth surpassed that of all the rest. +Misery vanished from her face. Delight took its place. All her years of +sadness were forgotten, and as she entered the Hall of the Minstrels, a +song of joy sprang unbidden from her lips. Had not the knight to whom +she had given her heart returned from his wanderings in foreign lands? +And would he not take his place among the minstrels as of old in a +Tournament of Song on that very day? His melodious harp and his rich +voice would ring out once again, and hers would be the hand to crown him +with the wreath of victory. + +The Princess smiled happily as she walked through the great hall and +joined her uncle, the Landgrave, upon the throne. The Landgrave watched +her approach, and his face beamed with pride. Was there ever a more +beautiful Princess? Her lovely face was aglow. Her eyes shone with a +luster as deep as that of the jewels about her neck. Her skin was fairer +than the lilies that she held in her hand. From the shining tresses of +her hair where a little golden crown sent out glittering sparks of light +to the last heavy fold of silvery satin that trailed behind her, she was +a creature to be honored, to be reverenced, to be loved. + +"How glad I am to have you at my side once more!" whispered the +Landgrave as they made ready to receive the nobles and fair ladies who +had been bidden to the contest. For already the measured tread of many +feet was heard in the distance. + +Presently through the pillared doorway, to the sound of martial music +and the fluttering of flags, the guests entered the hall, and in stately +procession approached the throne. Then, after a bow from the Landgrave +and a word of greeting from the Princess, the pages led each to a place +in the huge semicircle of seats that half filled the hall. + +When all had arrived, the Landgrave arose, and, turning first to his +guests and then to the Minstrels who were seated on low benches facing +them all, made his address of greeting. He told of the many song +festivals that had been held within the ancient hall, and how +each had added to the fair fame of the nation. Many deeds, many +emotions, had been celebrated in song, said he, but the sweetest of +all--Love--remained--and would be the theme of that day's contest. + +The minstrel who could sing most worthily about love would receive +love's prize as a reward--the hand of Elizabeth, the Princess. + +"Up then, arouse ye! sing, O gallant minstrels! attune your harps to +love! Great is the prize." + +A great shout of approval marked the end of the Landgrave's speech. + +"Hail, all hail, Lord of Thuringia!" cried hundreds of voices. + +When all was still, two little pages carried a golden cup containing the +names of the singers to the Princess. She drew one folded paper and +handed it to the pages. They read the name and then advanced to the +middle of the hall. In high, clear voices they called out,-- + +"Sir Wolfram von Eschenbach, begin!" + +There was a short pause while Sir Wolfram rose to his feet. Tannhäuser +sat, as if in a dream, leaning upon his harp. His eyes strayed through +the open doorway far across the peaceful valley to the dark and gloomy +mountain beyond. And though an inner voice whispered: "Turn away your +eyes, Sir Knight! 'Tis the abode of evil to which your thoughts are +wandering. Have a care, or magic power will rule you again!" he heeded +it not. + +But the eyes of Wolfram sought the pure face of the Princess on the +throne. His hands evoked a tender, rippling strain from the harp--and he +began to sing. + +He sang a quiet song of unselfish love, pure love, which doubts not and +trusts ever; which gives more than it seeks. + +He sang of a love, half sacrifice, wholly devotion--which asks nothing, +wants nothing, but gives, always gives. His song fell like a gentle +prayer upon the ears of his listeners. + +"Bravo!" they cried, when he had finished. "You have done well, Sir +Wolfram. Bravo!" + +And they clapped their hands and nodded in approval, whispering and +smiling at one another. All but Tannhäuser. His face had changed. It had +become angry, impatient, defiant. This gentle strain that spoke of +endless devotion and sacrifice; was that love? No, no. He arose +abruptly. He seemed to be looking beyond the familiar hall and the +well-known faces, to some unseen vision of delight. An uncanny smile +played about his lips. He touched the harp strings, and they jangled +with strange harmonies. The people were startled, alarmed. They half +rose from their seats. Was it madness that inspired the knight? Ah! if +they but knew. + +Tannhäuser, heeding naught, lifted his voice and sang. And while he +sang, the spell of enchantment enmeshed him again. Rose-colored mists +swam before his eyes and blinded him. He heard the far-off strains of +music, he saw the dancing figures, and a siren voice urged him on. He +thought of endless pleasure, ceaseless delight. Again he forgot work, +thrice-blessed work. He forgot the ancient hall; he forgot the pure +presence of Elizabeth; he forgot his God. He sang a wicked song, an evil +song, a song of sinful pleasure, a song of Venus. He had vowed that he +would sing her praises forevermore. Now he would keep his word. His +voice soared high in a wild hymn of praise. + +"Would you know love?" he cried, flinging aside his harp and stretching +out his arms: + +"Fly to Venus. She can teach you!" + +His words struck the people like a thunder-bolt and left them stunned, +horrified. Suddenly, like a wave of anger, arose the tumult of cries. + +"Listen! Hear him! Oh! Most horrible! He has been in the Venusburg." + +The ladies hurried in consternation and affright from the hall. Only +Elizabeth stood, pale and trembling, leaning against the throne. All her +delight was turned to misery once more. + +The Landgrave, the minstrels, the nobles, gathered together and gazed +with horror upon Tannhäuser, who, oblivious of all save the evil vision, +gazed enraptured, straight ahead. + +The horror of the men soon gave way to indignation, the indignation in +turn to fury and hatred. As from one throat, a mighty shout went up,-- + +"Kill him!" + +And with one accord they drew their swords and pressed upon Tannhäuser +to slay him. But at that instant a white figure with trailing draperies +rushed toward them. She threw herself before Tannhäuser, shielding him +with her body. It was Elizabeth, the Princess. + +"Stop," she cried. "Stay your hands!" + +The men fell back in amazement as she fell upon her knees before them. +She, the proud Princess, most cruelly wronged, would she shield one who +had fallen so low? + +Yes, she would shield him, even with her life. He had sinned. Ah, how he +had sinned! But he had sinned against God, and God must be his judge. +Who were they to judge him and deny him the opportunity to repent? Would +they rob his soul of its eternal peace? Thus she pleaded and begged for +Tannhäuser's life, while tears rained down her white cheeks. + +The men were touched. Anger slowly gave way to calm. One by one they +sheathed their swords and turned toward the Landgrave. + +Meanwhile Tannhäuser, at the sound of Elizabeth's pleading voice, turned +his head. As though just awakened from an evil dream, he stared at her +kneeling figure, the drawn swords, the horror-stricken faces. Suddenly +he remembered all that he had said, all that he had done. The enormity +of his sin rushed upon him. He realized how he had outraged friendship, +love, religion, all that was holy, pure, and good. In fearful contrition +he fell upon the floor, sobbing and crying out in his misery and +distress. Where could he look for pardon now? + +Suddenly, through the open doorway, there came the sound of the song of +the pilgrim band on its way to Rome. It was a song of prayer and praise, +a song of repentance and confession, a song of peace with God. It +brought hope and a promise of comfort. + +Silence filled the great hall as the notes died away in the distance. +Only Elizabeth's face, white and pleading, was lifted toward the +Landgrave's in silent prayer. + +The Landgrave gazed at Tannhäuser's bent figure, and feelings of pity +mingled with the loathing he felt. Advancing solemnly toward Tannhäuser, +he bade him arise and join the band of pilgrims now on its way to Rome. +No other way was open to one who had sinned as he had sinned. And, if +after confession, he was pardoned for his grievous wrong, he might +return to the Wartburg. Otherwise they never wished to see him again. + +At these words Tannhäuser sprang to his feet. The echo of the pilgrim's +voice still lingered in the air. He listened a moment while a ray of +hope illumined his anguish-stricken face. Then with a cry "To Rome! To +Rome!" he hastened from the room. + +[Illustration: TANNHÄUSER AT THE BIER OF ELIZABETH +(After a painting by Von Kaulbach)] + + +III + +The road to Rome was rough and thorny, beset with hardship, fraught with +suffering. But Tannhäuser, full of new-found hope, wholly repentant, +longing for pardon, pushed eagerly onward. No pilgrim was of humbler +mien, nor was any of more contrite spirit. The thought of Elizabeth's +devotion and her prayers dispelled all his former pride of sin, and made +the hardships of the journey seem all too light for his remorseful soul. +When other pilgrims sought smooth pathways through meadow and valley, he +trod unshod amid rocks and thorns. When they refreshed their lips at +cool mountain springs, he continued hungry and thirsty on his way. Snow +and ice did not daunt him, nor the scorching rays of the sun, nor the +tempest's roar. He gave of his life blood freely and faltered not. The +other pilgrims found shelter and rest in hospices high up among the +mountains. He made his bed in the drifting snow, the ice, the cold. Lest +the beauty of Italy delight his eyes, he went blindfolded over its +vine-clad hills, through its blooming meadows. For his heart burned with +penitence, and his soul ached for pardon. + +Thus the weeks lengthened into months, and a long year went by. At last +the chime of bells was heard in the distance; the white towers of Rome +were outlined against the blue Italian sky. + +Weary and footsore, the pilgrims crept one by one to the holy shrine, +and, one by one, each was told that his sins would be forgiven and was +bidden to go rejoicing on his way and sin no more. + +Finally Tannhäuser's time came. With a cry of relief he prostrated +himself before the throne and confessed his awful sin, his wasted years, +his deep repentance. He had dwelt in an unholy place, he had been the +slave of sinful pleasure, he had blasphemed his God,--but awakening had +come at last. Was there pardon for such as he? + +The first solemn words of answer with their accents of horror brought +Tannhäuser to his feet in terror. As in a dream he listened. No. There +could be no pardon for such a sin. He was pronounced accursed +forevermore. + +The judgment continued: + + "As this barren staff I hold + Ne'er will put forth a flower or a leaf + Thus shalt thou never more behold + Salvation or thy sins relief." + +Tannhäuser heard no more. Hopeless and despairing, he staggered wildly +from the room and away into the darkness. What mattered it which way he +wandered--now, since he was an outcast and accursed forever? Ah, to find +a path that would lead to forgetfulness! + +The pilgrims had already gone on their way homeward to Thuringia. From +out of the distance, their joyous song of praise fell upon the air. +Tannhäuser took up his staff and followed in their wake, hopeless and +alone. + +Meanwhile throughout the long year the Princess Elizabeth had waited and +prayed day after day. And Sir Wolfram, watching her devotion from afar, +had grieved to see her body become weak with pain, and her face white +and drawn with sorrow and suffering. + +At last there came a day when, kneeling at her shrine on the forest +path, the sound of the pilgrims' return broke in upon her prayers. + +"They have come back!" she whispered as she rose to her feet. + +The song, the steady tramp of feet, grew louder and louder. On and on +came the pilgrims. And, singing of God's goodness and His divine grace, +they passed Elizabeth and Wolfram, one by one. But he for whom she had +prayed was not among them. He had not returned. He had not been +forgiven. Her prayers had been in vain. All her strength was gone. With +a last look at the valley lying peaceful, in the glow of early eventide, +and with a farewell glance at Sir Wolfram, she passed wearily upward +toward the castle. + +Night fell. The sky grew dark with clouds save where, over the Wartburg, +a single star hung. Suddenly, through the gloom, a dejected and footsore +wanderer made his way. It was Tannhäuser. + +As his eyes fell upon the familiar scene, and upon Sir Wolfram, in +knightly array, all his misery rushed upon him anew. Oh, if he could but +find the path that led to forgetfulness, the path of pleasure, the path +to Venus! In the days of his care-free youth, it had been but a step, +but now, laden with sin, weighted with the knowledge of evil, bowed with +repentance and suffering, his feet would not lead him there. With a loud +cry he stretched forth his arms and called,-- + +"Venus, goddess, do you hear my call?" + +Suddenly the roseate light, the same alluring sounds of music, the same +sweet odors, enthralled him again. Venus, reclining upon her couch, +appeared amid the rosy clouds. + +"Take me!" cried Tannhäuser, rushing forward to throw himself beside +her. + +At that moment, the slow and solemn chant of a funeral dirge sounded +from afar. Tannhäuser started. His arms fell by his side. He turned his +head. Down the path from the Wartburg, the Knights were bearing a bier. +Lighted torches were at the head, the foot. A bell was tolling. Voices +were singing in praise of Elizabeth, the beautiful Princess, who had +gone to join the angel band, the fairest angel of all the host. + +"Ah! Elizabeth!" exclaimed Tannhäuser. With a despairing cry, he +staggered toward the bier. Ah, yes, it was she, she who had prayed for +him, she who had loved him more than he knew. Better death beside her +than life in sin! Bending over Elizabeth's body, he sank slowly to the +ground, and God took him home. + +For it is said that not long afterward the barren staff of the head of +the church blossomed and put forth leaves of green. And thus the Lord in +His mercy forgave Tannhäuser, the sinner, and entered him into the +Kingdom of Heaven. + + +Printed in the United States of America. + + + + + * * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + + In the Table of Contents, Page 155 has been changed to the correct + page, 156. + + Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from + the original. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT OPERA STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 38654-8.txt or 38654-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/8/6/5/38654 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Great Opera Stories</p> +<p> Taken from Original Sources in Old German</p> +<p>Author: Millicent Schwab Bender</p> +<p>Release Date: January 23, 2012 [eBook #38654]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT OPERA STORIES***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="center">E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus002.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + +<p class="caption">THE MARKET PLACE IN NUREMBURG</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>EVERYCHILD'S SERIES</i></span></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="giant">GREAT OPERA STORIES</span></p> + +<p class="center">TAKEN FROM<br/> +ORIGINAL SOURCES IN OLD GERMAN</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">BY</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">MILLICENT S. BENDER</span></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="big">New York</span><br/> +<span class="huge">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br/> +1935</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1912,<br /> +By</span> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1912.<br /> +Reprinted March, 1913; June, 1915; January, September,<br /> +1916; November, 1917 July, 1931; November, 1935.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><i>Printed in the United States of America</i><br /></p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CONTENTS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> + +<tr><td> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<span class="smcap">Children of Kings</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<span class="smcap">Haensel and Gretel</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<span class="smcap">The Master Singers</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<span class="smcap">Lohengrin, the Knight of the Swan </span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<span class="smcap">The Flying Dutchman</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<span class="smcap">Tannhäuser, the Minstrel Knight</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="giant">GREAT OPERA STORIES</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus008.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CHILDREN OF KINGS</span></p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">I</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time, in a lonely glade between high mountains far, far +above the World of Men, there stood a hut. It was a miserable, +tumbledown, little hut, and the mosses of many summers clung to its +sloping roof. It had a bent stovepipe where its chimney should have +been, a slanting board in place of a doorstep, and just one, poor, +little, broken window.</p> + +<p>Yet it was not its forlorn appearance alone that made the hut hide +behind the shadows of the grim forest, far away from the sight of man. +It had more, much more than that to be ashamed of. For a hideous Witch +lived there,—and with her, a Goosegirl.</p> + +<p>They lived alone, those two,—the Goosegirl, with the joy of youth in +her heart;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> and the Witch, unmindful of joy or youth, thinking only of +magic and evil and hate. While the Goosegirl had been growing from +babyhood to girlhood, from girlhood to womanhood, dreaming and wondering +and wishing,—she knew not what,—the Witch had been trying to make her +as ugly and as wicked as herself. But try as she would, the heart of the +Goosegirl was so pure that evil could find no spot in it to lodge. As +for her face, each passing year left it lovelier than the last. The +sunshine was no brighter than her yellow hair, the sky no bluer than her +clear blue eyes. The lone lily before the hut envied the whiteness of +her skin, and the birch tree in the woods, the slenderness of her form.</p> + +<p>Now it chanced upon a sunny afternoon in summer that the Goosegirl lay +on her back in the long grass before the hut. Now and then she tossed a +handful of corn to her quacking geese or played with a wreath of wild +daisies. But her thoughts were far away. Her eyes were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> full of the +wonder of things,—of the sun that shone, the brook that laughed, the +flowers that bloomed, the birds that sang, and the blue sky over all. +And her dreams were full of the World of Men, which she had never seen +and to which she longed to go. Something within her whispered that +happiness was to be found there, and the Goosegirl desired happiness +above all things. And she desired kindness and love, too, although she +had never heard of them, and did not know what they were.</p> + +<p>As far back as she could remember, ever since she was a tiny little +child, the Goosegirl had lived in the wretched hut. And the hideous +Witch had been her only companion. The Goosegirl wondered whether all +the people in the World of Men had such gruesome bodies, such ugly +faces, such evil ways, as the Witch. She had never seen any one else, so +she could not tell. For fear of the Witch no one had ever come that way. +Winter and summer, summer and winter, it had always been the same.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>The Goosegirl's dreams were suddenly interrupted by the hoarse voice of +the Witch.</p> + +<p>"Where are you, good-for-naught?" came from the doorway. "Idle, I'll be +bound, when there's work to be done!"</p> + +<p>The Goosegirl turned her eyes toward the figure of the Witch, and, +familiar as it was, for the thousandth time she shuddered with disgust. +The crooked back, the burning eyes peering out from under the tangled +hair, the rags, the ugliness,—oh, must she always stay? She arose +slowly and walked toward the door. With hands outstretched she begged +the hideous creature to set her free and to let her go down to the World +of Men to seek for happiness.</p> + +<p>"I will never become a Witch," she implored. "Oh, please let me go."</p> + +<p>The Witch's crooked mouth widened into a horrible smile. One yellow +tooth stuck out.</p> + +<p>"Not make a Witch of you, indeed! Wait<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> and see! I'll bend your proud +back!" Then brandishing her cane, she muttered savagely:</p> + +<p>"Get to work. There's bread to knead!"</p> + +<p>The frightened Goosegirl ran for bowl and flour, and set to work. +Meanwhile the Witch took out some dark powders. She mumbled strange +words over them, and while the Goosegirl, with busy hands but unseeing +eyes, kneaded and kneaded and kneaded, the Witch poured the powders into +the dough. Poor Goosegirl! Her bread was soon finished, but it was a +foul-smelling bread, and it contained enough poison to kill a dozen men.</p> + +<p>Soon afterward the Witch, chuckling fiendishly, took up her basket and +hobbled away to the grim forest. But the Goosegirl, full of horror for +the deed she had been made to do, sat motionless, staring straight +ahead. Would her life never, never change? With a sigh she called to her +geese and wandered back to her place in the grass. Ah, that there should +be so much evil in such a beautiful world! She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> looked at the dancing +shadows of the fluttering leaves. They were beautiful. There was beauty +in the thin, blue line of smoke as it climbed lazily upward from the +broken chimney. Two turtledoves cooed above her head. The sunlight +shimmered upon the wings of the buzzing bumblebees and made them shine +like gold. All, all was beautiful. Were people the only ugly things? The +Goosegirl gazed toward the World of Men far, far below, and wondered.</p> + +<p>Presently her fingers, wandering idly over the grass, found the wreath +of daisies. Idly she placed it upon her head.</p> + +<p>"Look at me, geese!" she cried. "Look at me! Am I ugly, too?"</p> + +<p>With the geese at her heels, she ran swiftly toward the pool and peered +earnestly into its clear depths. Her hair hung in long golden strands on +each side of her face, her eyes shone like stars, her cheeks were +flushed.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed happily. "I am beautiful!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> Geese dear, I am +beautiful, very beautiful!" And she gazed and gazed again.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a song broke the silence. The Goosegirl started. For it was a +song of youth and joy, the like of which she had never heard before in +all her life.</p> + +<p>Then, down from the mountains, out of the woods, straight to that lonely +glade, came a youth, a ragged youth, but a noble youth, with a sword at +his side, a bundle on his back, and a smile on his lips. His bearing was +so proud, he looked so straight ahead, with eyes both fearless and true, +that the Goosegirl held her breath as he halted before her.</p> + +<p>"Hey, pretty Queen of the Geese," he said. "How goes the world with you? +Have you no greeting for me?"</p> + +<p>The Goosegirl continued to stare, saying nothing, her eyes wide with +wonder. Finally she found her voice, and in a whisper just loud enough +for him to hear, ventured timidly:</p> + +<p>"Are you a man?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>"From top to toe!" exclaimed the youth, and laughed. How he laughed! He +threw back his head, his white teeth gleamed, and the distant hills rang +with the joyous sound. Even the Goosegirl was forced to smile at her own +ignorance.</p> + +<p>Such merriment soon made them the best of friends, and before long, +seated side by side in the grass, the youth told the Goosegirl whence he +had come and whither he was roving.</p> + +<p>A King's Son was he, of noble name and fortune. High up among the +mountains stood his father's castle, and there, amid the luxuries of the +court, he had been reared. But when he had grown old enough to wander, +the luxury had palled, the court life had fettered his free spirit. "Up +and away!" cried a summons from within his heart. And so, while no one +watched, he had stolen forth, with naught but a sword by his side, a +bundle on his back, and a song on his lips. And he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> had wandered over +the mountains, through the valleys, up and down, in and out, in search +of adventure.</p> + +<p>The Goosegirl heard the marvelous tale to the end. Then in faltering +tones, but with shining eyes, she said slowly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, that I might go with you!"</p> + +<p>The youth smiled scornfully.</p> + +<p>"King's Son and beggar maid!" exclaimed he, shaking his head. But as he +looked into her face he stopped short.</p> + +<p>The nobility of her expression, her simple beauty, drew him nearer. Ah! +this was no beggar maid. There was something regal in the pose of that +golden head, the glance of those clear blue eyes. What a companion she +would make for now and forevermore! He forgot the rags, he forgot the +geese, he forgot the hut.</p> + +<p>"Have you courage?" he asked, gazing at her searchingly.</p> + +<p>In answer she placed her hand in his. So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> he took off her wreath of +white daisies and placed it within his jacket, close to his heart. And +he opened his bundle and drew forth a golden crown, which he placed upon +her head. Then crying:</p> + +<p>"Up and away!" he led her to the edge of the grim wood.</p> + +<p>At that instant, however, the sky began to darken with rushing clouds. +Broad flashes of lightning blazed forth, thunder rolled, and the wind +blew furiously through the trees. The geese flapped their wings in +terror and gathered about the Goosegirl. She stood still, staring before +her in fear. She was turned to stone. She could not move. Her feet were +fixed to the ground.</p> + +<p>"What makes you stand so still and stare?" cried the King's Son.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am afraid!" answered the Goosegirl. "I cannot go! I am +bewitched!"</p> + +<p>"Fear is but shame," declared the King's Son, angrily. "You have lied to +me. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> are not fit to wander with a King's Son. You are only a beggar +maid, after all."</p> + +<p>Then, overpowered by his wrath, he made ready to go, adding:</p> + +<p>"Farewell. You shall never see me any more. No, never again, unless a +star from heaven falls into the lily yonder." And pointing to the lone +lily by the door of the hut, he rushed into the grim forest and was lost +to sight.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">II</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Goosegirl, saddened, disheartened, hid her golden crown and dragged +herself wearily into the hut. The hideous Witch, returning with her +venomous load, soon followed. And evening came. All was still. But for +the thin column of smoke rising from the stovepipe one would not have +known that any life was there.</p> + +<p>Just as the golden edge of the moon peeped over the eastern mountain a +loud song burst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> upon the air. And a moment later a Fiddler, clad in +leather jacket and boots, appeared, emerging from the grim wood. He +strode forth boldly as befitted an honest man who had nothing to fear. +Seeing the miserable, tumbledown hut with its smoking chimney, he +stopped.</p> + +<p>"Ah, ha!" cried he. "Here's the journey's end." Then, looking back into +the woods and waving his cap, he shouted at the top of his voice:</p> + +<p>"Come on, Master Wood-cutter. Come on, Master Broom-maker. Here's the +Witch's den. Come on!"</p> + +<p>And Master Wood-cutter and Master Broom-maker came on. But how they +came! They slunk out of the woods in fear and trembling, teeth +chattering, knees shaking, eyes bulging. They took but one look at the +tumbledown hut and then made for the nearest tree, behind which they +cowered, shivering from head to toe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>"Not so loud! Not so loud! Master Fiddler, please. She may hear you," +they protested.</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!" laughed the Fiddler. "Don't you want her to hear +you? What did you come for, then, pray tell me?"</p> + +<p>And so he half dragged, half pushed, the two cowardly braggarts toward +the Witch's door.</p> + +<p>"You may knock first," said the polite Broom-maker through his +chattering teeth to the Wood-cutter.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. You may have the honor," responded the Wood-cutter, and his +knees knocked together as he bowed.</p> + +<p>Since there was no way out of it, the Broom-maker moved toward the door. +He tapped once with the knuckle of his forefinger, gently, like a little +mouse. Then in a wee, small voice, he said:</p> + +<p>"Good wife, won't you buy a broom?"</p> + +<p>No answer came from within the hut.</p> + +<p>Emboldened by the silence, Master Wood-cutter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> joined his comrade at the +door of the hut. Then he, too, rapped a little bit, just like a penny +hammer.</p> + +<p>"Most honored wise-woman!" he whispered.</p> + +<p>But no answer came. All was as still as before.</p> + +<p>"There's no one at home," said both at once. And they strutted boldly to +and fro, grinning from ear to ear.</p> + +<p>"Stand aside!" said the Fiddler.</p> + +<p>He pushed them away and strode toward the door. With his clenched fist +he banged once, twice, thrice. And he lifted his voice. My, what a voice +it was! The very woods rang with the sound of it.</p> + +<p>"Witch! Hag! Foul woman!" he shouted. "Open the door!"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. But presently the door creaked on its +rusty hinges, and there stood the Witch, in all her ugliness, leaning +upon a cane.</p> + +<p>The Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> gave her one glance and then, +stricken with terror, they fled as fast as their legs could carry them +to the first tree. There they waited, trembling and quaking, to see what +the dread creature would do. They would not venture out, no, not they. +They had wives and children to care for, and it was no business for men +of their kind. No, indeed!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Witch was croaking in her awful voice:</p> + +<p>"Who comes here to my hut in the woods? Hey, fellows, what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"What do I want?" mocked the Fiddler, who had bravely stood his ground. +Looking at her calmly, he dropped on one knee, with a comical smile:</p> + +<p>"Ah, fair dame, those red, red eyes and that one yellow tooth of yours +have made me sick with love and longing. Listen to my suit, I pray."</p> + +<p>The Witch looked at him in surprise as he rose to his feet. Could it be +that he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> not afraid of her? He looked her straight in the eyes, +fearless and brave. So she scowled. He smiled. She shook her cane. He +laughed. Well! Well! Her magic was powerless against a man like that. +Let him tell his tale and be gone.</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that the Fiddler called the Wood-cutter and the +Broom-maker and bade them state their business. But they bobbed and +scraped and hemmed and hawed and chattered and giggled so long that the +Fiddler had to come to the rescue.</p> + +<p>The King of the World of Men had died, and since the King's Son had run +away and could not be found, there was no one to rule the town of +Hellabrun. So the people had sent the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker to +ask the Wise-Witch what was to be done. They wanted a ruler straightway +and did not know where to find one.</p> + +<p>The Witch pondered long, frowning savagely. Then she told the +Wood-cutter and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> the Broom-maker to go back and tell the people that the +first person who knocked at the town gate at noon on the morrow would be +worthy to wear the crown.</p> + +<p>Pleased with this prophecy the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker hurried +away through the grim forest toward the town of Hellabrun in the World +of Men.</p> + +<p>But the Fiddler did not go. He had caught a glimpse of a golden head and +a pair of blue eyes at the window; and the sight of one so fair in such +a hut told him that there was work for him to do here.</p> + +<p>"Why do you stay?" snarled the Witch. The Fiddler gave her a sharp +glance.</p> + +<p>"I'm setting a snare for the little golden bird that you keep in the +hut."</p> + +<p>The Witch started. She clenched her fist wrathfully, but her eyes fell +before his steady glance.</p> + +<p>"Let out the golden bird," sang the Fiddler, cheerily, "or I will go in, +I will go in."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>The Witch looked this way and that. She could not meet his eyes. +Muttering savagely, she hobbled toward the door. A moment later she +dragged forth the trembling Goosegirl.</p> + +<p>The Fiddler was amazed. Such beauty! Such pride! She was fit to sit upon +a throne!</p> + +<p>"Who are you, maiden?" he asked. "And how came you here?"</p> + +<p>Slowly and sadly the words fell from the Goosegirl's lips. She knew not +who she was. The Witch had told her to call her "Grandmother." More than +that she could not say.</p> + +<p>The Fiddler's eyes traveled from the Goosegirl to the hideous Witch and +back again. This fair maid kin to that foul creature! No, no, it was not +possible.</p> + +<p>As if divining his thought, the Witch wagged her head maliciously and +sneered:</p> + +<p>"No, she is no kin of mine. But worse, far worse. You may know all. A +hangman's daughter is she; that's it, a hangman's daughter."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>"It is not true," shouted the Fiddler. Then turning to the weeping +Goosegirl, he cried:</p> + +<p>"Believe her not. Look at your hands, girl, your white, white hands, and +your hair, your golden hair. There's nobility in your face. Believe in +yourself, and you will sit beside the King's Son on a throne. Be not +afraid. Pray, girl, pray!"</p> + +<p>The Goosegirl fell upon her knees and lifted her eyes to heaven. Her +voice rose from the depths of her being and cried out to the mother and +father whom she had never seen. Her golden hair covered her like a +mantle, her face was radiant. Still kneeling, she held her crown of gold +toward heaven and prayed to God for help, for guidance, for strength. +And as she prayed, a shining star shot from heaven, downward, downward, +straight into the lone lily by the door of the hut.</p> + +<p>The Goosegirl uttered a cry of joy. Putting the crown upon her head, she +arose, exclaiming:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>"I'm free! I'm free! I'm free!"</p> + +<p>Then, followed by her geese and the Fiddler, she rushed into the grim +wood toward the World of Men.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">III</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> morning dawned and the grim wood with all its terrors lay behind +the King's Son, he came at last to the town of Hellabrun in the World of +Men. Weary and footsore, faint from hunger and thirst, yet dauntless +still, he stopped before an inn near the town gate and begged for work.</p> + +<p>"I would earn an honest penny," he said, "to buy my daily bread. Have +you any work for me?"</p> + +<p>The innkeeper, who was a rough, ill-natured fellow, smiled with contempt +as he looked upon the white hands and noble face of the youth before +him. So he declared gruffly:</p> + +<p>"All I need is a swineherd!"</p> + +<p>"A swineherd!" The voice of the King's Son<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> echoed the loathsome word, +while a look of disgust overspread his face. But only for a moment; +then, quick as thought, came the vision of the Goosegirl, so sweet and +fair despite her humble calling. "All work is noble to those that are of +noble mind," thought he. His hand stole to his heart and touched the +wreath of white daisies there.</p> + +<p>"I will be your swineherd," he answered sturdily.</p> + +<p>Then he seated himself beneath a tree to await the orders of the +innkeeper.</p> + +<p>Now it happened to be a day of great excitement in Hellabrun, and as the +morning wore away, a chattering, restless crowd of people—men, women, +and even little children—assembled in the market place. With eager eyes +they scanned the two soldiers who, armed with long spears, stood on +guard before the closed and barred town gate.</p> + +<p>There were lean men and fat men; men in rich clothes and men in rags. +There were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> tinkers and tailors, soldiers and sailors, and their wives +and their sweethearts. Here were wise doctors in black gowns, there +gray-bearded counselors leaning upon canes. Wee babes in arms crowed and +laughed, boys romped, girls danced. And all awaited the noontide hour +and the coming of their King.</p> + +<p>"Will he ride upon a snow-white charger?" asked one.</p> + +<p>"Nay, he will be carried aloft, seated upon a golden throne," replied +another.</p> + +<p>"His robes will be of richest velvet," said a third.</p> + +<p>"And a jeweled crown will be upon his head," said a fourth.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps a beautiful queen with ropes of pearls about her neck will sit +upon the throne at his side," ventured a fifth.</p> + +<p>"Tell us again what the Wise-Witch promised," called one from the crowd +to the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker, who were strutting proudly to +and fro.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>Nothing loath, Master Broom-maker and Master Wood-cutter pushed their +way to the front of the admiring crowd. Then they stood with heads high, +chests stuck out, feet wide apart and arms waving, and told their story +for the fiftieth time. And since with each telling the story had grown +and grown, it was a marvelous tale, indeed.</p> + +<p>They told of the grim forest and the many dangers through which they had +passed before they arrived at the Witch's den.</p> + +<p>"The woods were full of lions and tigers," said the Wood-cutter.</p> + +<p>"But I felled every one with one mighty blow of my broom," said the +Broom-maker.</p> + +<p>"And an ogre with fiery eyes sat behind each tree; and a dragon snorting +steam held guard before the den of the Witch. But we feared them not. We +slew them all. We went so boldly forward that the Witch quaked and hid +herself in fear when she saw us coming."</p> + +<p>"'Tis not truth that you speak," cried out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> a young voice, and the crowd +fell back amazed at the sight of the King's Son. Who was this ragged +fellow who dared to interrupt the thrilling story? Down with him! And +they beat him with their sticks and pelted him with stones and called +him names. But just as they were about to drive him from the market +place the town clock struck the hour.</p> + +<p>A sudden hush fell upon the crowd. The people stood still. With eager, +expectant faces turned toward the gate they waited, while the bell +pealed forth its twelve long notes. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!</p> + +<p>It was noon!</p> + +<p>The guards pulled out the long bolts. An excited murmur came from the +crowd. Then all was still, as still as before. The guards turned the +huge knobs. The door swung on its hinges, and there stood—a Goosegirl +and her flock of geese. Her feet were bare. Her dress was tattered and +torn. But her shining hair covered her like a mantle, and a golden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +crown was upon her head. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes, glowing as from +an inner light, sought among the sea of faces, and found that of the +King's Son alone. Then, with arms outstretched, she walked slowly toward +him, crying softly:</p> + +<p>"I have come to be your Queen."</p> + +<p>Queen! The breathless crowd stared in amazement one moment longer. Then +the amazement gave way to laughter, the laughter to anger, the anger to +fury.</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha-ha! This is no queen!" they shouted angrily. "We have been +fooled. This is only a Goosegirl. Strike her! Beat her!"</p> + +<p>The King's Son enfolded the Goosegirl in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he cried to the mob. "I am a King's Son, and she is my Queen."</p> + +<p>"Listen to the ragged fellow!" shouted the people. "He says he is a +King's Son! Ha-ha-ha! Stone them! Hit them! A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> Swineherd! A Goosegirl! +Drive them out! Out! Out!"</p> + +<p>And so the King's Son and the Goosegirl were driven away from the town +of Hellabrun, and the angry people returned in disappointment to their +homes. Only one little pure-hearted girl lingered at the town gate and +gazed with eyes of faith after the fleeing pair. When she could see them +no longer, she fell upon the ground and wept and wept.</p> + +<p>"Why do you cry, little girl?" she was asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was the King," she sobbed—"the King and his bride."</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">IV</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">During</span> all the long summer days the King's Son and the Goosegirl +wandered over hill and dale, through field and forest, far away from the +World of Men. And the King's Son shielded the Goosegirl with his love +and brought her berries to eat and the skins of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> wild animals to rest +upon, and was gentle, oh, very gentle! And the Goosegirl made the King's +Son glad with the sight of her beauty and the sound of her light-hearted +laughter. And they were happy with a happiness that surpassed all that +they had ever felt or dreamed.</p> + +<p>But then autumn came. The wind moaned piteously through the trees, +driving brown leaves in whirling gusts before their eyes. Winter +followed, covering the grim woods with a mantle of shining white. Their +clothes were thin. Their feet were bare, and it was cold—bitter, bitter +cold. So they wandered on and on, day after day, until at last, faint +with hunger, sick with despair, they came, all unknowingly, to the +lonely glade between the high mountains where the Witch's hut stood.</p> + +<p>The hideous Witch was no longer there. Because they believed she had +prophesied falsely, the infuriated people of Hellabrun had burned her at +the stake. Only the Broom-maker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> and the Wood-cutter were in the +miserable tumble-down hut; while out in the grim forest were the Fiddler +and the one pure-hearted little girl, seeking, ever seeking, with eyes +of faith for the rightful King and Queen.</p> + +<p>With steps that faltered, and eyes half closed, the King's Son and the +Goosegirl crept into the glade. Tottering feebly, hand in hand, they +approached the door of the hut, and knocking, begged for shelter, for +food, for drink.</p> + +<p>The face of the Wood-cutter appeared at the window for a brief moment. +Blinded by his distrust, he saw only two beggar children before the +door.</p> + +<p>"Away with you! We have naught to give," he shouted as he slammed the +broken shutter.</p> + +<p>Hopelessly, sadly, the King's Son bore the Goosegirl to the snow-covered +mound beneath the linden tree. Whither could he turn to get his loved +one food? Ah, foolish, foolish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> King's Son who would not rule, who could +not beg!</p> + +<p>The Goosegirl, clinging to him tenderly, felt his despair, saw his eyes +fill with tears. Crying out that she was not ill, but was well and +strong, she rose to her feet. To cheer him, she tripped lightly to and +fro, singing a gay little song. Faster and faster twinkled her little +feet, brighter and brighter grew her smiles. But weaker and weaker +became her voice, paler and paler her face, until she fell, fainting, +into the snow.</p> + +<p>Then the King's Son rushed to her and took her in his arms. He wrapped +his cloak about her and carried her back to the mound. She opened her +eyes and smiled.</p> + +<p>"King! My King!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>Like a flash the King's Son remembered his crown. He opened the bundle +and took it out.</p> + +<p>"Do not sell your crown, O King!" murmured the Goosegirl.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>"I will! I must!" replied the King's Son. "It will bring you bread."</p> + +<p>He arose hastily, broke the shining crown into pieces, and ran toward +the hut.</p> + +<p>Rap! Rap! Rap! "Let me in!" he cried impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to break down the door?" replied the Broom-maker, appearing +at the window.</p> + +<p>"I care not," answered the King's Son. "Here is gold. Now will you give +me bread?"</p> + +<p>Gold? The greedy eyes of the Broom-maker gave the glittering fragments +one glance. Then he called the Wood-cutter. And they whispered, and they +searched all through the miserable hut until they found the poisoned +bread, the foul-smelling bread, which the Goosegirl had made as the +Witch had directed on that bright summer day long, long ago.</p> + +<p>With it in their hands they ran to the window. They handed it to the +King's Son, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> he gave them gold, his golden crown, in its stead.</p> + +<p>The King's Son snatched the loaf and ran joyfully toward the mound and +fell at the Goosegirl's feet, crying:</p> + +<p>"I'm bringing bread, dear one! bread! Take it! Eat it!"</p> + +<p>"Not I alone," answered the Goosegirl. "You, too."</p> + +<p>So they broke the bread in two, and, laughing happily, they ate it +eagerly. They ate it all to its bitter, bitter end. Then, clasped in +each other's arms, they lay down to sleep and dreamed of rosy clouds of +glory wafting them toward sunny lands of everlasting bliss; and +dreaming, slept and—knew no more. And the snowflakes fell softly, +silently, and covered them with a shining robe of fleeciest white.</p> + +<p>A little later, the Fiddler and the little pure-hearted girl, followed +by a troop of children, entered the glade, all seeking, still seeking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +with eyes of faith, for the rightful King and Queen. As they approached +the snow-covered mound the snow suddenly ceased falling; and the sunset +glow from the west shone down and revealed the Kingly Children asleep +forevermore.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus042.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HAENSEL AND GRETEL</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">I</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Long</span> ago, in half-forgotten days, a little hut stood at the edge of a +great forest. It was rather a meek, shamefaced little hut, for the +forest was great and beautiful, and the hut was small and ugly. Still, +it had a glowing fireplace inside, and a brick chimney on top, and it +was somebody's home, which—after all—is the principal thing.</p> + +<p>A broom-maker named Peter lived there with his wife Gertrude and their +two children, Haensel and Gretel. The broom-maker was poor, oh, very, +very poor, and that is why his home was not beautiful to see. But he was +an honest, upright man who loved his family, and had he been able, I am +sure, he would have housed them in a marble palace. Unfortunately, +however, the broom-making business had been unusually poor that year.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>Indeed, on the very day that our story begins, Peter and his wife were +both away from home in quest of work, and only Haensel and Gretel were +to be seen inside the hut.</p> + +<p>Lest you should not know, it might be well to mention that Haensel was +the boy. He was busily engaged—or, at least, he was supposed to be—in +making brooms, while Gretel, the girl, had her knitting in hand. But it +was extremely difficult to keep their thoughts or their eyes, either, +upon such stupid work. Each breeze that blew in through the open window +brought an invitation from the fascinatingly sunlit grassy spot before +the door. Even the trees in the forest beyond beckoned to them with +their tall branches.</p> + +<p>Besides, there was another cause for rebellion on that particular +afternoon. To tell the truth, the children were hungry. Moreover, since +there seemed to be absolutely nothing in the house to eat, it was quite +likely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> that they would remain hungry, which was the worst part of all.</p> + +<p>Haensel, after the manner of boys, threw his work into the farthest +corner of the room and fairly shouted:</p> + +<p>"I just wish Mother would come home! I'm hungry, that's what I am. For a +week I've eaten nothing but bread, and little of that. Oh, Gret, it +would be such a treat if we had something good to eat!"</p> + +<p>Now Gretel, as it happened, was every bit as hungry as he, but, after +the manner of girls, she sought to comfort him.</p> + +<p>"Don't be an old crosspatch," she said. "If you'll stop complaining, +I'll tell you a secret. But you must smile first!"</p> + +<p>Haensel smiled.</p> + +<p>She went on:</p> + +<p>"Do you see that jug over there on the table? Well—it's full of milk. +Somebody left it here. And if you're good, Mother will stew rice in it +when she comes home."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>Haensel had heard such stories before.</p> + +<p>"Don't believe it," said he. "It's too good to be true."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he went to see. And when his eyes assured him that what was +in the jug really looked like milk, he was overcome with the temptation +to find out whether it tasted like milk, also. First he gave a sly +glance at Gretel and then down went his forefinger into the jug!</p> + +<p>"Haensel! aren't you ashamed, you greedy boy? Out with your finger!" For +Gretel had caught him in the act.</p> + +<p>"Get back to your work in a hurry, for you know if Mother comes before +we've finished, there'll be trouble."</p> + +<p>Haensel, however, was not inclined toward work that afternoon. In fact, +he was in a very rebellious mood, altogether.</p> + +<p>"Don't let's work," suggested he. "Let's dance."</p> + +<p>Now you must remember that Gretel was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> only a little girl with twinkling +feet that loved to dance and a merry voice that loved to sing. So do not +judge her too harshly, even though she quickly dropped her tiresome +knitting.</p> + +<p>Their wooden shoes—for they were the style in those days—clattered +over the board floor; they clapped their hands, their childish voices +rang out, and they had, all in all, a most beautiful time. They forgot +their empty stomachs; they forgot their aching fingers. Gretel, who was +clever in such things, taught Haensel some new steps. And he, less +awkward than usual, learned them so quickly that Gretel praised him for +his aptness. Her words made him as proud as a peacock. He seized her +hands in both of his own. Round and round they whirled, faster and +faster, until suddenly, losing their balance, they fell, laughing +loudly, in one heap on the floor.</p> + +<p>And then—the door opened.</p> + +<p>"Gracious goodness!" they cried. "It's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> Mother!" And up they jumped in +double-quick time.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was Mother, and an angry Mother at that.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" she exclaimed, "all the noise and clatter? Where +is your work, you good-for-nothing children?"</p> + +<p>The children, half penitent, wholly frightened, looked at each other. +Haensel blamed Gretel, Gretel blamed Haensel.</p> + +<p>The Mother blamed them both. She scolded, she raged, she brandished a +stick, and I confess I am afraid to think of what her anger might have +led her to do next. But just at that moment, in her excitement, she gave +the milk jug a push, and down it went, breaking into a thousand pieces, +with the precious milk running in little streams all over the floor. +That was the last straw! What was there left to be cooked for supper?</p> + +<p>The furious woman snatched a basket from a nail on the wall. She thrust +it into Gretel's hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>"Off with you both to the wood!" she cried. "And hurry up, too! Pick +strawberries for supper! If the basket isn't full, you'll get a +whipping. Yes, that's what you'll get." She shook her fist to make the +admonition more impressive.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had they gone, however, when the woman, completely exhausted, +sat down by the table and began to weep and moan. You see, she was +really not an ill-natured woman at all. Poverty had embittered her, and +the mere thought that her children might be starving, caused her to lose +entire control of her feelings. It had been a long, wearisome, and +disappointing day, and now, even at its end, her own irritability had +caused another calamity. Angry with herself, the world, and everything, +she rested her head on her arms and sobbed herself to sleep.</p> + +<p>Do you know the old verse, "It is always darkest just before dawn"? Now, +if the mother had been patient only a little longer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> all would have +been well. But then there would have been no story to tell.</p> + +<p>The mother was still sleeping when the father came home. He was singing +joyfully, and he awoke her with a kiss.</p> + +<p>"See," he cried happily, "my brooms are all sold. There was a festival +in the town to-day, and every one must needs be clean. Such a sweeping +and a dusting and a cleaning! I drove a roaring trade, I tell you. So, +here's butter and eggs and ham and sausage. And tea, too. Hurry up, good +wife, and get supper ready!"</p> + +<p>The mother packed away the things. She lighted the fire. She hustled and +bustled about. Suddenly the father, missing the children, inquired:</p> + +<p>"Where are Haensel and Gretel?" He went to the door to call.</p> + +<p>"Don't call," answered the mother. "They were naughty, and I sent them +to the woods in disgrace."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>"The woods!" exclaimed the father, and his voice was full of horror.</p> + +<p>"It is growing dark," he said, "and my children are in those gloomy +woods without stars or moon to guide them! Don't you know that there is +enchantment in those woods? Don't you know that the Witch walks there?" +His voice sank to a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Which witch?" asked the woman, thoroughly alarmed.</p> + +<p>"The Crust Witch, the gobbling Witch! She who rides on a broomstick at +the midnight hour, when no one is abroad, over hill and vale, over moor +and dale!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh! Oh! but what does she gobble?"</p> + +<p>"Have you never heard? All day long, she stalks around, with a +crinching, crunching, munching sound and lures little children with +gingerbread sweet. She lures little children, the poor little things, +into her oven, all red-hot; then she shuts the lid down, pop, +pop!—until they're done brown."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>"Oh, horror!" cried the mother, wringing her hands. "Oh, what shall we +do?"</p> + +<p>"Go seek them!" said the father.</p> + +<p>And in another moment without hats, shawl, anything, they had run out of +the hut.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">II</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> sunset glow lighted the forest. It bathed the stately trees in rose +and gold. It shone on the cool carpet of leaves and wild flowers, and +played with the garlands of bright-colored vines.</p> + +<p>But the purple mist of twilight that hung over the distant fir-colored +hill sent gray shadows down. They crept behind the hedges and bushes, +warning the birds, the bees, and the flowers that night was drawing +nigh.</p> + +<p>One lingering ray of sunshine lit the mossy rock upon which Gretel sat. +She was weaving a wreath of wild flowers and singing a little song, +while Haensel ran hither and thither, filling his basket with red +strawberries.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>So, if you have imagined that they were at all unhappy, you see you were +quite mistaken. Indeed, they were entirely, wonderfully, breathlessly +happy. I doubt if they gave their mother's scolding a single thought. As +for their home, they had quite forgotten all about it, which, for aught +I know, may have been part of the enchantment. At any rate, they had +never had a better time.</p> + +<p>When Haensel's basket was full, Gretel's wreath was finished. So they +played at being king and queen of the wood, and Gretel wore the wreath, +and Haensel knelt in homage before her, presenting her with the basket +of berries. Whereupon, as a reward, she gave him some of the ripest ones +to taste. Soon tiring of this they went on to another game. A cuckoo +called from a tree near by, and they imitated his call, seeking each +other behind tall tree trunks. But saddest of all to tell, they ate the +strawberries while they played—yes, every single one.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>When they attempted to find fresh ones, they discovered that it had +grown too dark. There were black shadows under the hedges and bushes +now. A gray blanket of clouds was spread over the sky.</p> + +<p>Then fear came. For they could not find their way. Gretel saw strange +figures glimmering behind the birches. She saw strange faces grinning at +her from every mossy tree stump. Now it was Haensel who sought to +comfort her. A mist arose and shut them in. Advancing dimly through it, +they spied a lantern. Haensel said it was a will-o'-the-wisp. They heard +a call. He said it was the echo.</p> + +<p>When Gretel began to whimper and cry, Haensel held her fast in his arms. +But the shadows of strange things continued to nod and beckon. One +shadow grew and grew and grew. It moved toward them, and both children +cowered down in fear. Their eyes never left it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the shadow took shape, and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> stood an odd little gray man. +He had a long white beard. He leaned on a staff, and he carried a sack +on his back. Strange to say, the moment that the children saw his calm +smile and his friendly gestures they were not afraid any more. He came +toward them, chanting a quiet song about restful sleep and happy dreams. +Before they knew what he was about, he had sprinkled sand into their +tired eyes. Then Haensel and Gretel folded their hands and sleepily +whispered their evening prayer. With their arms about each other's necks +they sank slowly into the soft moss and soon were fast asleep.</p> + +<p>The little man disappeared as he had come, into the mist. But the mist +became roseate. It rolled itself into a fleecy cloud, which mounted +higher and higher until it touched the sky. What magic was this? It +changed again into a marvelous golden stairway! And down the stairway +floated beautiful guardian angels with dazzling wings and golden wands. +They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> grouped themselves about the sleeping children, at their heads, at +their feet, all about them. Waving their golden wands, they sent down +showers of wonderful dreams. Oh, such gleaming, glistening, unutterable +dreams!</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">III</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Scarcely</span> had the sun peeped over the eastern horizon than the Dew Fairy +came fluttering into the woodland. Her wings were tinged with the first +blush of dawn and her garments were tipped with rosy light. She carried +armfuls of bluebells, and as she flitted lightly about, sweet music +rippled on the air. How she smiled when she saw Haensel and Gretel +asleep under the tall fir tree!</p> + +<p>"Up, ye sleepers! Awake! Awake!" she sang. Then, sprinkling dew from the +bluebells into their eyes, she vanished into the sunlit air.</p> + +<p>Gretel rubbed her eyes sleepily and raised herself from the moss. Was +she still in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> beautiful greenwood? Ah, yes, she must be there. For +birds were merrily chirping overhead. There were glimpses of bright blue +sky between the leaf-laden branches.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, lazy bones!" she called to Haensel.</p> + +<p>He jumped up with a start, stretched himself, yawned once or twice, +looked about. Oh, the wonderful, wonderful forest!</p> + +<p>The sun had mounted higher in the sky. The woods were filled with a +mellow radiance. The morning mists had cleared away. And, most +astonishing of all, on the very hill so lately hidden by dark trees and +fleecy clouds, they beheld a most entrancing sight.</p> + +<p>A house stood there. But such a house! It was as beautiful—as +beautiful,—in short, I am afraid to tell you how undescribably +beautiful it was. The walls were of sweetest sugar candy, glistening +like diamonds in the sun; the roof was of chocolate cake, all soft and +creamy; and the gables were ornamented with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> raisins, like little eyes. +On one side there was a strange-looking cage; on the other, a huge, +strange-looking oven; and both were joined to the house by a fence made +of the daintiest gingerbread figures imaginable.</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Haensel, "did you ever see anything so wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"No, I never did," answered Gretel. "A princess must live in that."</p> + +<p>They stared and stared, while their mouths watered and their fingers +itched prodigiously.</p> + +<p>Haensel wished to go boldly inside, but the mere thought of doing +anything so rash frightened Gretel.</p> + +<p>"Well, the angels led us here," reflected Haensel.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es, that's true, they did," conceded Gretel.</p> + +<p>"Come on. Let's just nibble a little bit," tempted Haensel.</p> + +<p>And so, hand in hand, they hopped along, like two little mice, toward +the magic house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> Then they stole cautiously forward on tiptoe, until, +at length, they were within reaching distance. Haensel's hand went out. +He broke off a bit.</p> + +<p>Quick as lightning came a squeaking voice from the inside:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Nibble, nibble, mousekin,<br /> +Who's nibbling at my housekin?"</td></tr></table> + +<p>Haensel started back in fear.</p> + +<p>"'Twas only the wind," said Gretel. "Let's taste it."</p> + +<p>They did. Since it tasted better than anything they had ever eaten +before, they feasted merrily for a while, never heeding the voice of the +Witch or her ugly form, either, which, a little later, appeared at the +door. I have no doubt that they would be feasting yet, if the Witch had +not then and there stealthily stolen upon them. With a deft movement she +threw a rope about Haensel's neck and held him fast.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>The children's delight turned to terror. For she was a loathsome sight +to see. Bent, toothless, with unkempt hair and clawlike hands, she +looked the picture of a Witch indeed.</p> + +<p>In spite of her appearance, however, she spoke to them in a very kindly +manner. She called them pretty names, told them that they were nice and +plump, and that they would make excellent gingerbread. She even caressed +Haensel, which made him very angry. Wriggling and squirming, he managed +to loosen the rope and seizing Gretel by the hand, ran—alas! only a +short distance. For the Witch, holding aloft a juniper branch, circled +it in the air, repeating these strange words:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Hocus, pocus, witch's charm,<br /> +Move not, as you fear my arm!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>The children stood stock-still. They were stiff from head to toe. +Fortunately, by this time they had undergone so many strange adventures +that they had learned fairly well how to conduct themselves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>"Watch carefully all she does!" whispered Haensel, as the Witch led him +away to the cage and gave him nuts and raisins to fatten him.</p> + +<p>"I will," said Gretel.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when, a few moments later, the Witch disenchanted her in +order that she might prepare the table, Gretel listened attentively to +the words:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Hocus, pocus, elder bush,<br /> +Rigid body, loosen hush!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>No sooner had Gretel run into the house than the Witch was seized with a +fit of wild joy. She thrust more fagots into the fire, laughing wickedly +when the flames flared higher and higher. She mounted her broomstick and +rode about, shouting a weird song.</p> + +<p>Gretel watched her from the doorway. That broomstick ride gave her an +opportunity. She stole to the cage, and, whispering,</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Hocus, pocus, elder bush,<br /> +Rigid body, loosen hush!"</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>she set Haensel free. But he did not move. No, not yet.</p> + +<p>For the Witch had come back. She was rubbing her hands with glee. Her +face wore an evil smile. Oh, the fine meal she would have! Haensel was +not plump enough. Gretel must be eaten first. So, opening the oven door, +she called Gretel and told her to look inside. But clever Gretel +pretended not to understand. Would not the Witch show her how? Angry, +impatient, muttering to herself, the Witch crept nearer to the oven, and +when she was about to bend over it, Haensel and Gretel gave her one +good, hard push from behind. She toppled over and fell in. Bang! bang! +went the door. She was safe inside.</p> + +<p>How the fire crackled and roared. A moment later there was a great crash +and the oven fell to pieces. Haensel and Gretel, much terrified, started +to run away, but found themselves, to their great surprise, entirely +surrounded by a troop of little children.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>"It's the fence," exclaimed Haensel, "the gingerbread fence!"</p> + +<p>And so it was. The gingerbread had fallen off, and real children stood +there, motionless, with closed eyes, murmuring softly:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Oh, touch us, we pray,<br /> +That we may all awake!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>"Pooh! if that's all they want!" said Gretel, proudly, and she repeated:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> + +<tr><td> +"Hocus, pocus, elder bush,<br /> +Rigid body, loosen hush!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>Instantly life came back to the whole troop. They hurried toward Haensel +and Gretel from all sides. They danced, they sang! Two boys ran to the +oven and dragged out the Witch in the form of a big gingerbread cake. +Then the merrymaking began in earnest. They made a big circle, and round +and round it they danced. Last but not least, they ate up the candy +house. At any rate, that is what they were doing when their mothers and +fathers found them there that afternoon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus064.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE MASTER SINGERS</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">I</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Across</span> the wide sea, amid the green hop fields of southern Germany, is +the old, old city of Nuremberg. Shut off from the busy world outside by +its great wall of stone, it has stood unchanged through all the passing +centuries. There are the same narrow, crooked streets leading to the +public squares, where quaintly carved stone fountains stand. There are +the same many gabled, lofty houses, with oriole windows that open +outward. There are latticed doorways with plaster figures that beckon +and bless and welcome. And the gray castle, the grass-grown moat, the +dark, pillared church, all tell stories of the days of long ago.</p> + +<p>In those days men dreamed dreams and sang songs as they sat on the bench +or in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> market place. The cobbler at his last, the baker before the +oven, the silversmith by the fire, even the little apprentice, watching +and learning, looked out upon a fair world and found it good. So while +hands were busy, thoughts roved far and wide, and fancy wove many a song +to sing by the fireside on wintry nights.</p> + +<p>But not only by the fireside were those songs sung in the days when +Nuremberg was young. The good people there prized the Art of Song too +highly for that alone.</p> + +<p>"Though a man's lot be humble," they said, "his thoughts may be rich in +fancy; he may have a song to sing." So they formed a guild devoted to +the cultivation of poetry and music, and the members of this guild were +called Master Singers. Every man who wished to enter the guild was +obliged to write some verses,—according to the rules of the guild; and +to compose appropriate music for those verses,—according to the rules +of the guild;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> and, finally, to sing them both together,—according to +the rules of the guild. Then if the masters approved of his performance, +he became one of the Master Singers of Nuremberg. And great was the +honor conferred upon him when he reached this high estate! Many had +tried, but few had been chosen. Indeed, the entire guild was composed of +but twelve members. These were, for the most part, worthy men, devoted +to their trades and to music. And each one had a boy apprenticed to him, +to whom he taught cobbling or soap-making or baking or tailoring by day, +and the Art of Song by night.</p> + +<p>Among the Master Singers of Nuremberg none is better remembered than +Hans Sachs. He was a cobbler by trade and a poet by nature, and his +songs and verses have outlived his boots by many a year. It is of his +part in a song festival of the Master Singers hundreds of years ago that +our story has to tell.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">II</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> began on the day before the feast of St. John in St. Catherine's +Church, which was really not the proper place for a love affair to begin +at all. But what did Eva Pogner or Sir Walter von Stolzing care for +that? The only thing that mattered to them was the joyous Springtime +which had stolen in through the open chancel window and had warmed their +hearts toward everything in the world,—but most of all toward each +other.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter stood leaning against a great stone pillar at the back of the +church. He wore a blue velvet suit, his hat had a long white plume, and +he was as handsome a young knight as one could ever wish to see.</p> + +<p>Pretty Eva sat in the last pew with her maid Magdalena by her side. Her +head was bent, and her eyes were upon her prayer book, as befitted a +modest maiden. Still she saw Sir Walter very plainly. In fact, somehow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +she caught every message that his dark eyes sent across the church. And +her cheeks turned rosy, and her heart grew warmer than ever the +Springtime had made it. Indeed, those glances so confused her that she +lost her place in the hymn book. Magdalena noticed it and nudged her +mistress sharply. So Eva sent one glance back to the fascinating young +knight, just a little frightened one; and then she joined in the closing +hymn. But when she lifted up her joyous young voice and made it ring +high above all the rest, Sir Walter stared harder than ever.</p> + +<p>The young knight had loved this light-hearted maiden since he had first +seen her in her father's house. And his only wish was to win her for his +bride. But how? Suppose she were already promised to some one else!</p> + +<p>While these mingled thoughts of joy and doubt possessed him, a ray of +sunshine crept into the dark church. It lingered on Eva's head, making a +halo of her golden hair. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> moment later he saw two eyes, mirroring some +of the sky's own blue, dart him a shy glance. And he heard a voice so +sweet that he was sure the angels themselves stood still to listen. Come +what might, thought he, he would speak to her that very day.</p> + +<p>The service was over. One by one the people filed slowly between the +dark pillars, and out of the church, into the bright sunshine. Only Eva +and Magdalena lingered, smiling and chatting with friends and neighbors +as they walked slowly along. As they approached the pillar behind which +Sir Walter stood, he stepped forward. The long, white plume of his hat +swept the floor as he bowed in greeting.</p> + +<p>"One word, my fair maid, I entreat," he began.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, the moment Eva heard his voice she discovered that she +had forgotten her handkerchief. Perhaps it was in the pew. Magdalena +must return for it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>Then, with the maid safely out of hearing, Eva turned her mischievous +face to Sir Walter. She was ready to listen, so he spoke. Did Eva look +upon him with favor? Might he hope? Scarcely were the words out of his +mouth, when Magdalena was back again, handkerchief in hand.</p> + +<p>"Come, Eva," she said; "it is growing late."</p> + +<p>But Eva was in no hurry, with this gallant cavalier close at hand. +Perhaps he wished to tell her a beautiful story. Had Magdalena seen her +scarfpin? It was gone. Was it there on the floor?</p> + +<p>"Good Lena, go back and find it," said the artful Eva.</p> + +<p>And Lena went back, grumbling, and searched here, there, and everywhere.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Sir Walter improved his opportunity. The words hurried to his +lips. He begged Eva to tell him whether light and happiness, or gloom +and doubt, were to be his portion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>The answering words were trembling on Eva's lips ready to be spoken. But +there stood the ubiquitous Magdalena again, with the scarfpin!</p> + +<p>"We must go home," she said. "Come. Here's your kerchief and your pin. +But where's my prayer book? Oh, alackaday! I've left it in the pew!"</p> + +<p>Back she bustled once more.</p> + +<p>These interruptions served to make Sir Walter more impatient than ever. +Would he never be able to make love in peace? He took a long breath, +leaned forward, and whispered eagerly: "May I hope? Or are you promised +to some one else?"</p> + +<p>And for answer, while Eva hid her eyes for fear they would tell of her +love too soon, there was Magdalena again!</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Walter," said Magdalena, and she curtsied low, wishing to be +most polite to this handsome young man.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Walter," she repeated. "Our Eva is betrothed."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>Betrothed? Sir Walter was stunned into silence; misery spread itself +like a black cloud over his face. Nor did the reply please Miss Eva, +either. She quickly interrupted, saying:</p> + +<p>"But no one knows who the bridegroom will be. No, not until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Sir Walter knit his brows. That was amazing! Was it a puzzle? What did +it mean?</p> + +<p>Eva and Magdalena hastened to explain. After all, it was very simple.</p> + +<p>Out in the meadows near Nuremberg a song festival was to be held +to-morrow. It was to be a great singing match. And Eva's father had +promised part of his fortune, and his daughter besides, to the singer +who should win the prize. Eva herself was to crown the victor with a +wreath of laurel. "But," they continued, "he must be a Master Singer. No +one may even try for the prize who is not a member of the guild."</p> + +<p>"Are you not a Master Singer, Sir Walter?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> inquired Eva, timidly, and +it was plain that she wished with all her heart to hear him say yes.</p> + +<p>Poor Sir Walter! Until that moment he had never heard of the Master +Singers. As for the song contest, he never even knew that there was to +be such a thing. What was to be done? Could no one help? Walter was in +despair, and Eva, who by this time knew the man she wished to marry, was +on the verge of tears.</p> + +<p>A shaft of light streamed across the church. The door was opened, then +closed with a bang. A youth ran in hastily. He noticed no one. He wore a +businesslike air, as he hurried this way and that. He was David, +apprentice to Hans Sachs, the shoemaker.</p> + +<p>From the expression on Magdalena's face when she saw David, it was easy +to see how matters stood! Her heart was affected, too, and David was the +cause. She looked at him admiringly a moment, then gave a little cough.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +David started. He hastened toward her, smiling and holding out his +hands. Ah! it was his own true love, Lena! But she must not detain him. +He was busy. There was to be a trial meeting.</p> + +<p>"A trial meeting!" exclaimed Magdalena, joyfully. "Just the thing!" Now +the handsome knight would have a chance. She beamed happily upon David. +"You must explain everything to him!" she cried, and whispered the +directions eagerly.</p> + +<p>But Mr. David was stubborn. He had no time. There was the platform to be +set, the curtains to be hung, the chairs and the benches to be arranged. +And it was late.</p> + +<p>"David, dear David," coaxed Lena, with her face close to his, "if you'll +help Sir Walter to become a Master Singer, I'll bring you a basket full +of the best things you ever ate."</p> + +<p>And before David had time to refuse, the clever Lena had seized Eva's +hand and had hurried with her from the church.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>Scarcely were they gone, than with a great shouting the jolly +apprentices danced into the church. They hopped and skipped about, +joking and laughing, as they made ready for the meeting. They pulled one +another's hair, they played leapfrog over the chairs, they pushed, they +shoved, but they worked, too, and in a twinkling the church was +transformed into a meeting place. There stood the marker's platform, for +all the world like a great box, with black curtains on all four sides. +To the right of it were the benches for the masters, and in plain view +of all was the great chair for the candidate.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter had, all unconsciously, seated himself in the great chair. +His eyes stared moodily ahead. He heard nothing, saw nothing, of all the +fun about him. He was buried in deepest gloom. He had promised Eva that +he would become a poet, a singer, for her sake, and he wished to do so, +but where and how was he to begin? Her father would not allow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> her to +marry any one but a Master Singer. How could he become a Master Singer +in one day?</p> + +<p>While these thoughts passed through the young knight's mind, young David +stood watching. Suddenly he shouted:</p> + +<p>"Now begin!"</p> + +<p>Walter gave a jump.</p> + +<p>"Eh, what?" he stuttered.</p> + +<p>"Begin the song," said David. "That's what the marker says, and then you +must sing up. Don't you know that?"</p> + +<p>Sir Walter shook his head. He knew nothing.</p> + +<p>"He's a stupid fellow for all his fine clothes," thought David. Then he +said aloud:</p> + +<p>"Don't you know that the marker is the man who sits in the curtained box +and marks the mistakes?"</p> + +<p>No. Sir Walter did not know that.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know that the singer may have seven mistakes, seven,—and no +more?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>Sir Walter did not know that, either.</p> + +<p>"Well, well! And you want to become a Master Singer in one day. I've +studied for years and years with Hans Sachs, my master, and I'm not a +Master Singer yet. You have a lot to learn," and David gave a great sigh +and scratched his head with his forefinger. Then, like the kind-hearted +fellow that he was, but with half a thought fixed upon Lena's cakes, he +began to explain. He explained the rules for high tones and low tones, +for standing and sitting, for breathing and ending, for grace notes and +middle notes, for rhyming and tuning; and the more he explained, the +more perplexed poor Sir Walter became. His spirits dropped, dropped, +down to his very boots. Indeed, his discouragement was so great that I +fear he would have been much inclined to run away if at that moment the +Master Singers had not come in.</p> + +<p>Veit Pogner, the rich silversmith, came first. And tagging behind him, +talking excitedly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> and gesticulating while he talked, was the Marker of +the guild, the town clerk, Sixtus Beckmesser. The rest came after. But +their voices could not be heard. The town clerk was so busy telling +Master Pogner that he hoped to win his daughter on the morrow, and that +he would serenade her that very night, that no one else had a chance to +say anything.</p> + +<p>Imagine a short man, a fat man, a man with thin, crooked legs, a mincing +gait, a head too bald, a face too red; in short, a clown of a man. That +was Sixtus Beckmesser. Then think of two squinting eyes fastened upon +Master Pogner's money. That was the secret of the town clerk's love for +pretty Eva. He was as different from Sir Walter as night is from day, as +sorrow is from joy, as falsehood is from truth. But he was determined to +win in the song contest. And he had many powers, good and evil, to help +him, as you shall see.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter stepped forward, and Veit Pogner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> greeted him kindly. Surely +so handsome a knight should be favored. Hans Sachs came forward, also. +And all agreed that Sir Walter should be given an opportunity. Only +Beckmesser snarled with rage, for the young knight was a formidable +rival.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" croaked he to himself. "Just wait. Let him try to sing! I'll +show him what singing is."</p> + +<p>Sir Walter was bidden to seat himself in the candidate's chair. And, +with a smile that was far from friendly, Sixtus Beckmesser, slate and +chalk in hand, entered the Marker's box and pulled the curtains together +behind him.</p> + +<p>Then in a harsh tone he called out:—</p> + +<p>"Now begin!"</p> + +<p>Walter mused a moment and then began his song. The words, the music, +flowed forth unbidden from his full heart. He sang of the Springtime +which came into the sleeping forest, and, with thousands of heavenly +voices,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> awakened the birds, the bees, the flowers. He sang of murmuring +brooks, of rustling leaves, and of winter all forlorn, lurking in the +woodlands, loath to depart.</p> + +<p>And as he sang, groans of discouragement came from within the Marker's +box. There was the sound of chalk scratches, once, twice, and again.</p> + +<p>Walter hesitated a moment. Then he went on. He sang of the awakening of +the woods to life, to happiness. His voice rose high in joyous refrain.</p> + +<p>But a loud groan came from the Marker's box. Another scratch—another.</p> + +<p>Walter took a long breath. He did not care. With thoughts of his fair +Eva in mind, he sang on. He sang of love, which, like Springtime in the +woodland, had awakened his heart. He sang of the thrill of life it +brought, the happiness, the all-surpassing joy.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the curtains were roughly pushed apart, and Beckmesser rushed +out, slate in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> hand. It was covered on both sides with marks!</p> + +<p>"Can no one stop him?" he cried as he jumped frantically about. "The +slate is full," and he laughed exultingly.</p> + +<p>The Masters joined in the laughter, for, it was true, Sir Walter had +sung according to no rule of the guild. Only Hans Sachs and Veit Pogner, +realizing the beauty and poetry of the song, tried to argue for the +young knight. But their opinions were overruled. The Master Singers +decreed that Sir Walter had lost his chance. He must be silent and sing +no more. Sixtus Beckmesser remained triumphant, and Walter left the +church while the Masters pronounced the decree,—</p> + +<p>"Outdone and outsung."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">III</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> day of toil was over. Twilight came, and then the cool and quiet +evening. A bright moon rode on high. It peeped in and out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> between the +gables, behind the church spire, and promised fair weather for the +morrow.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Midsummer Day, Midsummer Day,<br /> +And the song festival so gay,—"</td></tr></table> + +<p>sang the jolly 'prentice boys, as they appeared at their masters' house +doors to close the shutters for the night.</p> + +<p>David stood on the little grass plot before his master's cottage, also. +But he was not in so merry a mood. He was a serious young man with a +sweetheart of his own, and he had no time for frivolity or nonsense. Let +silly boys caper as they wished. So he pulled down the shutters and +never noticed Magdalena, who had slipped out of Veit Pogner's great +house across the street and was hastening toward him. The boys snickered +and beckoned to one another in great glee. A well-laden basket was on +Magdalena's arm, and even her voice had an inviting sound.</p> + +<p>"David, dear, turn around!" she called.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> David hastened eagerly to her +side. The boys, too, with broad grins overspreading their faces, crept +forward on tiptoes to listen.</p> + +<p>"See, David," they heard Lena say, "here's something nice for you. Take +a peep inside. Doesn't that make your mouth water? But tell me first, +what of Sir Walter?"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing much to tell," answered David, quite unconcerned. "He +was outsung and outdone!"</p> + +<p>"Outsung and outdone!" gasped Magdalena. "Take your hands off of my +basket. No, sir! None of my goodies for you!" and she flounced off, +murmuring: "What's to be done? Oh, what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>David stared after her. He was dumfounded. But the boys jeered and +pointed their fingers at him. They had heard it all. Laughing and +singing, they formed a ring, and capered about David, who became very +angry, and struck out blindly right and left. But the more he raved and +raged, the more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> they teased and tormented, until, all of a sudden, a +tall figure stood before them. It was Hans Sachs, the cobbler. Annoyance +was written all over his good-humored face. His honest blue eyes sent +out sparks of anger. The boys hung their heads.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" he cried. "To bed! To bed!" The apprentices stole +shamefacedly away.</p> + +<p>"And you"—he continued, taking the crest-fallen David by the ear, "put +the new shoes on the lasts and get into the house. No song to-night, +sir!" They entered the workshop.</p> + +<p>All was still on the narrow street for a little while. Eva and her +father sauntered homeward from their evening walk. They lingered for a +few moments beneath the linden tree before the door, enjoying the +evening air. Then they entered the house for supper. Lights glimmered in +the windows. A dog barked in the distance. Peace pervaded the quiet +town.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>Hans Sachs appeared again at his workshop door. He flung it open and +peered down the street, then he looked up at the sky. The gentle evening +breeze fanned his cheeks. How refreshing it was! How pleasant it would +be to work out of doors to-night! And, calling David, he ordered him to +place his bench, his stool, the light, the tools outside, beneath the +tree.</p> + +<p>"You will not work in this light, Master?" queried David.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet," retorted Hans Sachs, shortly. "Go to bed!"</p> + +<p>"Sleep well, Master."</p> + +<p>"Good night," answered Hans Sachs, as he sat down by the bench and took +up his tools. But he did not work. The silvery moonlight cast a glamor +over the town. It softened the outlines of all that he looked upon and +made them vague, uncertain, beautiful. The evening breeze wafted down +the sweet scent of the elder blossoms, and a delicious languor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> overcame +him. The soul of the poet arose in the body of the cobbler, and, as if +under a spell, he sat motionless, oblivious to shoes, lasts, tools, +everything. The Song of Spring that the young knight had sung that +afternoon began to haunt him. Faintly, elusively, it came to his mind, +like the distant echo of a melody heard in a dream. Musing upon Sir +Walter, who, like the birds in the woodland, had sung the song his heart +had told him to sing, he did not see Eva trip lightly from her father's +house. She paused before him. Hans Sachs looked up. The sweet girl, +swaying back and forth like a bird on a bough, looked more like a happy +thought than a physical reality.</p> + +<p>Eva broke the silence shyly.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Master," she said. "Still working?"</p> + +<p>Instantly Hans Sachs' face wore a genial smile of welcome.</p> + +<p>"Ah, little Eva," he answered, "you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> come to speak about those new +shoes for to-morrow, I'll be bound."</p> + +<p>Now, as you no doubt have already guessed, artful Miss Eva had come for +no such purpose at all. To tell the truth, she had feared to ask her +father aught concerning the trial meeting of the Master Singers that +afternoon. For she knew it would be far easier to wheedle the story from +her old friend Hans Sachs.</p> + +<p>With a fine affectation of unconcern she began her questioning. But +little did she know Hans Sachs. He, as it happened, was quite clever +enough to divine her plan. He suspected that she must have some hidden +reason for this sudden interest in the trial meeting. At least, he +thought, it would do no harm to find out. So he spoke harshly of Sir +Walter, and pretended that he had sung abominably at the trial meeting. +Indeed, the Masters were quite right in rejecting him! And all the time +he watched Eva's expression and laughed, oh, how he laughed, in his +sleeve!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>Eva flushed crimson. She flew into a temper.</p> + +<p>"A nice lot of Masters, indeed!" She flung the words at Hans Sachs. +"Little do they know of fine singing, or you either, for that matter." +Then she rushed angrily away, and crossed the street to her own home.</p> + +<p>Hans Sachs smiled tenderly. He nodded his head wisely as he gazed after +her.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said to himself, "that's just what I thought! That's just what +I thought!"</p> + +<p>And still shaking his head, he gathered up his tools and entered the +workshop. He closed the door behind him; that is, he nearly closed the +door,—nearly, not entirely, which was most fortunate, as you shall see.</p> + +<p>Not long afterward Sir Walter von Stolzing came hastening down the +street. His face was full of sorrow. All his hopes of winning Eva were +gone. He would see her once more, and then bid her farewell forever.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>Eva saw him coming. Running toward him, she greeted him gladly and led +him to the garden seat, beneath the shade of the linden tree. And there +the young knight told her of his failure. As he spoke of the +narrow-minded Masters who had spurned his song, his voice grew bitter. +"Ah," he continued, "all hope is gone unless you will marry me +to-night." Eva assented eagerly. And so, in excited whispers, just loud +enough for Hans Sachs to hear, the two lovers planned to run away.</p> + +<p>Losing no time, Eva ran into the house and donned Magdalena's cloak. +Then, bidding the maid seat herself by the window in her stead, she +hurried to join Sir Walter.</p> + +<p>Just as the two lovers made ready under cover of the darkness to dive +down the narrow street, clever Hans Sachs threw his workshop door wide +open, and the broad stream of bright light from his lamp flooded their +path. Eva and Sir Walter fell back. They could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> pass that way. The +cobbler would be sure to see them. They looked in the opposite +direction. No. There was the watchman, and skulking in his wake was +still another figure. Who could that be? He was coming that way. Oh, +this would never do. In despair the lovers rushed back to the friendly +shadows beneath the linden tree.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Hans Sachs, who had no objection to their marriage, but who +felt a great distaste for elopements, had brought out his tools, and had +seated himself at his workbench once more. He, too, spied a strange +figure slinking down the street toward Pogner's house. Well he knew +those thin legs, that fat body, the too bald head, the too red face. It +was Beckmesser, the town clerk, the Marker of the guild. He had come to +serenade the fair Eva. He would show her what fine singing was. And he +looked up at her window expectantly, as he tuned his lute.</p> + +<p>At the same moment Hans Sachs, chuckling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> softly to himself, broke out +in a loud song accompanied by an outrageous hammering upon a pair of +shoes. His big voice rang out so lustily that it completely drowned the +tinkle, tinkle of the town clerk's lute. Beckmesser became frantic with +rage. Suppose Miss Eva should hear! Suppose she should think he was +singing in that atrocious manner. A slim chance he would have to win her +to-morrow! He gazed at the closed shutters Then he ran to Hans Sachs, +scolding and pleading with him to be silent. What did Master Beckmesser +want? And Master Sachs was most indignant. Those were his shoes that he +was working upon. A man must keep at his trade. And the jolly cobbler +went on hammering and singing as loudly as before.</p> + +<p>The panic of Master Beckmesser increased. He paced angrily to and fro. +He put his fingers to his ears. And if Hans Sachs had not been so big +and strong, it is not hard to imagine what he would have done next.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>At last when the window in Pogner's house opened wide and revealed a +maiden seated there, Hans Sachs ceased. He had a plan. He consented to +listen to Beckmesser's serenade if he might be permitted to mark each +error by tapping on his lapstone. For there were shoes to be finished, +and that was the only way.</p> + +<p>The plan did not please Beckmesser at all, but, since he had no choice, +he was forced to agree. So, by way of beginning, he strummed a prelude +on his lute, and looked for favor at the figure in the window. But +before he had time to get his breath Hans Sachs had struck the shoe a +mighty blow and had shouted,—</p> + +<p>"Now begin!"</p> + +<p>Beckmesser started. Then he began to sing. But a sorry performance it +was. The nervousness, the anger, the malice, had entered his voice and +had made it harsh and squeaky by turns. He sang a line. It was out of +tune. Down went the hammer. He scowled and began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> another line. It did +not rhyme. The hammer fell again. And so, becoming more and more +enraged, Beckmesser sang more and more falsely, so that Hans Sachs was +kept busy beating a veritable tattoo upon his lapstone. Beckmesser +squeaked, he bawled, he howled, and all the time Hans Sachs hammered and +hammered, until both shoes were done.</p> + +<p>This howling and hammering awakened the people in the houses all about. +Shutters were pushed back, windows were opened, nightcaps appeared and +sleepy voices ordered them to be silent.</p> + +<p>David, hearing the tumult, peered out. When he saw a strange man before +the window serenading a lady whom he at once perceived to be his Lena, +he rushed out, cudgel in hand. He fell upon the unfortunate musician, +who yelled so loudly that the whole neighborhood was aroused. The +apprentices rushed out and fell upon David, and the Masters rushed out +and fell upon the apprentices, and before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> any one knew what it was all +about, everybody was hitting everybody else. The clamor and commotion +grew and grew apace. People came running from all sides, and joined in +the general hubbub and confusion.</p> + +<p>Only Hans Sachs kept a cool head. Seeing that Eva and her knight were +about to make use of the excitement to run away, he intercepted them. +First he pushed Eva into her father's house. Then, grasping Walter by +the arm, he thrust him into his own workshop and, following him, closed +the door.</p> + +<p>The street fight continued. Suddenly the sound of the watchman's horn +was heard in the distance. The crowd was seized with a panic of fear. As +if by magic, it dispersed. The people suddenly disappeared into the +houses, down the alleys, behind doors, anywhere. The lights were +extinguished. All was still.</p> + +<p>When the sleepy watchman came to that street, he rubbed his eyes, stared +about him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> surprise, and then shook his head. Could he have been +dreaming? He thought that he had heard a noise. Holding his torch aloft, +he blew his horn and cried out:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"To my words, ye people, hearken:<br /> +All your houses straight way darken!<br /> +'Tis ten o'clock, all fires put out!<br /> +Let naught of evil lurk about.<br /> +Praised be the Lord!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>Then he went his way. And the moon shone down upon the peaceful streets +of Nuremberg.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">IV</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Midsummer Day</span> dawned. Long before the town was awake, while Sir Walter +still slumbered in an inner room of the cottage, Hans Sachs sat in the +great armchair by the open window. The morning sunshine fell upon his +head as he bent over the thick and musty volume he held in his hands. +But who shall say he was reading as he turned the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> time-worn leaves over +and over? His mind wandered far afield,—to the early days of his +beloved Nuremberg, to the trades, to himself, the humble cause of last +night's brawl. And the thought of the two young lovers came to him. He +would like so much to help them, if he could only find a way. So +absorbed was he that he scarcely noticed the youth David who came to +offer him the basket of goodies, which Magdalena had given him as a +token of forgiveness.</p> + +<p>And so the moments passed. Hans Sachs resumed his reading, until at +length the chamber door was opened and Sir Walter stood upon the +threshold. Bidding his host good morning, he walked slowly toward him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, good morning, Sir Knight," replied Hans Sachs, forgetful of the +great book, which slid to the floor as he arose. "I hope you rested +well."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. The sleep that I had was restful," answered Sir Walter, in a +dreamy and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> preoccupied tone. Then he exclaimed rapturously,—</p> + +<p>"But I had a most beautiful dream!"</p> + +<p>"A dream?" Hans Sachs was all attention. "Tell it to me!"</p> + +<p>"I dare not. I fear it will fade away," said Sir Walter.</p> + +<p>"Nay. It is of such dreams that poetry is made,"—and the eyes of the +cobbler gleamed with an inner radiance. "Poems are but dreams made +real."</p> + +<p>Thus urged and encouraged, the young knight sang the story of his dream. +And Hans Sachs was moved by the rare beauty of the poetry and music. +Hastily procuring pen and ink, he bade Sir Walter sing it over again +while he transcribed the words to paper. Then, as the song continued, +the kind-hearted master added bits of advice in a low tone. He showed +the young knight how he could keep the words and melody as beautiful as +his dream, and still obey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> the rules of correct singing. Charging him +not to forget the tune, Hans Sachs insisted that Sir Walter array +himself in his richest garments and accompany him to the Song Festival.</p> + +<p>"For," concluded he, "something may happen. Who can tell?" And so the +two men entered the inner room together.</p> + +<p>Hans Sachs was right. Something did happen, and very soon, too. Scarcely +was that door closed than the one leading to the street was cautiously +pushed open. And a too bald head, a too red face, and two squinting, +crafty eyes peeped in. Then, assured that no one was about, a wretched +figure limped after. It was Beckmesser, the town clerk, but a sore and +aching Beckmesser; a Beckmesser who could neither sit, nor stand,—a +miserable Beckmesser, whose disposition had not been at all improved by +the cudgeling that he had received. Slowly and painfully he came +forward. And since there was no one at hand, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> shook his fist and +scowled savagely at the bright sunshine and the soft air.</p> + +<p>As he hopped and limped about the room, he came, by chance, to the table +whereon lay the paper upon which Hans Sachs had written. He took it up, +inquisitively sniffing, as he ran his eye over it. What was this? A +trial song, and a love song at that? And, hearing the chamber door open, +he, then and there, stuck the paper into his pocket. How Hans Sachs +smiled when he saw what the crafty creature had been about!</p> + +<p>"Very well, Master Beckmesser," said he. "Since you've already pocketed +the song, and since I do not wish you to be known as a thief, I gladly +give it to you."</p> + +<p>"And you'll never tell any one that you composed it?" squeaked +Beckmesser.</p> + +<p>"No, I'll never tell any one that I composed it," and Hans Sachs turned +away to hide his laughter, for he knew full well that no Master +Beckmesser could learn and sing that song that day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>But the miserable Beckmesser was beside himself with joy. Such a song, +composed by a master like Hans Sachs and sung by a singer like Sixtus +Beckmesser, could not fail to win the prize! Rubbing his hands with +glee, he hobbled and stumbled from the room.</p> + +<p>The time for the Song Festival came at last. The worthy people of +Nuremberg,—the bakers, the cobblers, the tailors, the tinkers, with +their wives and their sweethearts, all clad in the brightest of holiday +clothes, journeyed to the open meadow at some distance behind the town. +And there a scene of jollity and merriment awaited them. Gayly decorated +boats sailed to and fro, bringing more burghers from near and far. Under +tents of colored bunting merry people were eating and drinking. Flags +flew, bands played; there was dancing and singing, laughter and joy. And +the 'prentices in all the glory of floating ribbons and many-colored +flowers ran this way and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> that, ordering the tradespeople to the benches +one moment and dancing with the prettiest girls the next.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a shout was heard: "The Master Singers! The Master Singers!" +And a hush fell over the company, as the 'prentices marched solemnly +forward and cleared the way. The standard bearer came first, and +following him, Veit Pogner, leading the fair Eva by the hand. She was +richly dressed, and looked radiant as the morning itself. Attending her +were other splendidly gowned maidens, among whom was the one that David +thought the most lovely of all. Then came the Master Singers. And when +the people saw their beloved Hans Sachs among the rest, they shouted and +waved their hats in loyal greeting.</p> + +<p>The Master Singers took their seats on the platform, a place of honor in +their midst having been assigned to Eva and her maidens. Several +'prentices ran forward and heaped up a little mound of turf, which they +beat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> solid and then strewed with flowers. The time for the prize +singing was at hand.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Unmarried masters, forward to win!<br /> +Friend Beckmesser, it is time. Begin!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>The 'prentices conducted Beckmesser to the mound. He put up one aching +leg, then the other. He stood wavering uncertainly a moment, then +toppled over.</p> + +<p>"The thing is rickety," he snarled. "Make it secure."</p> + +<p>The boys set hastily to work, slyly snickering, while they beat the turf +with their spades. And the people near at hand giggled and whispered:</p> + +<p>"What a lover!"—"I wouldn't care for him if I were the lady."—"He's +too fat."—"Look at his red face."—"Where's his hair?"</p> + +<p>With the help of the 'prentices Beckmesser again hobbled up on the +mound. Striving to set his feet securely, he looked right and left. Then +he made a grand bow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>The standard bearer called out,—</p> + +<p>"Now, begin."</p> + +<p>And he began. He sang such a song as Nuremberg had never heard before +and hoped never to hear again. Mixed with the tune of the new song was +the miserable serenade he had sung the night before. As for the new +words that he had tried to learn, they were gone completely. His mind +was blank. So he ducked his head and took a peep at the paper, and +instead of the words,</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Morning was gleaming with roseate light,<br /> +The air was filled<br /> +With scent distilled,"—</td></tr></table> + +<p>Beckmesser sang,—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Yawning and steaming with roseate light,<br /> +My hair was filled<br /> +With scent distilled,"—</td></tr></table> + +<p>and much more besides that was far worse. The people muttered to each +other. They could not understand what it was all about. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> Masters +stared in perplexity. Finally, as the singer became more and more +confused, and sang a jumble of ridiculous and meaningless words, they +all burst into a loud peal of laughter.</p> + +<p>The sound of laughter stung Beckmesser to fury. He stumbled angrily from +the mound and, shaking his fist at Hans Sachs, declared that if the song +was poor, it was not his fault. Hans Sachs was to blame. He had written +it. Then he threw the paper on the platform and, rushing madly through +the crowd, disappeared.</p> + +<p>The people were in confusion, the Masters were amazed. They all turned +to Hans Sachs for an explanation. He picked up the paper, smoothed it +out, handed it to the Masters, and said:</p> + +<p>"No, the song is not mine. I could not hope to compose anything so +beautiful."</p> + +<p>Beautiful? The Masters were incredulous. Hans Sachs must be joking. But +he went on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>"Yes, beautiful. Master Beckmesser has sung it incorrectly. The one who +wrote it could render it in a manner that would prove its beauty beyond +a doubt." Raising his voice, he called:</p> + +<p>"Let the one who can sing the song step forward."</p> + +<p>And to the great surprise of all, Sir Walter von Stolzing, clad in +glittering knightly apparel, came from the crowd. He bowed courteously +to the Masters, and won the hearts of all by his noble looks and his +manly bearing. He stepped lightly upon the mound, mused a moment, and +then began his song of the dream. And, as before, the words, the music, +gushed forth from his full heart. He put all his love, all his yearning, +into the melody he sang. His voice swelled upward like the rising tide. +And when it reached the full, the rapture of it touched the hearts of +all who listened. The song was finished. A hush fell upon the Masters +and people alike. But only for a moment; soon a glad shout arose:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>"Master Singer! Master Singer!"</p> + +<p>And Sir Walter von Stolzing knew that the victory was his.</p> + +<p>They led him to the fair Eva and placed her hand in his. While the +people waved and sang, she placed a wreath of laurel upon his head. It +was his beautiful dream coming true. Then the Masters hung a chain of +gold around his neck, which showed that he was a member of the guild. +Sir Walter thought of the treatment that he had received the day before +at the trial meeting, and he was about to refuse. But Hans Sachs arose +and spoke gravely of the reverence due to the Art of Song. And Walter +forgot his bitterness, and thought only of his love and future happiness +with Eva by his side.</p> + +<p>And so with the people singing,</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Hail, all hail<br /> +Nuremberg's beloved Hans Sachs,"</td></tr></table> + +<p>Midsummer Day and the Song Festival came to an end.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus108.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + + + + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">LOHENGRIN, THE KNIGHT OF THE<br/> +SWAN</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">I</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Long</span> years ago a maiden, fair as the morning itself, wandered through a +lonely greenwood in the Duchy of Brabant. She was Elsa, only daughter of +the late Duke of Brabant, who had died but a short time before this +story begins.</p> + +<p>Although Elsa was the rightful owner of all the wooded lands and fertile +fields for miles and miles around, she was far from happy. Although +summer lay warm and fragrant over those lands, and flowers blossomed +along her pathway, yet Elsa's heart was heavy within her. She was full +of sorrow. For, not long before, while walking in those self-same woods, +her brother Godfrey had suddenly and unaccountably disappeared from her +side.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> Elsa had searched and searched. She had wept, she had prayed, +but all in vain. No trace of him had she found anywhere. Spent with +grief and anxiety, she had run to her guardian, Frederick of Telramund, +and told him the story. But Frederick had repulsed her with unkind +glances and cruel words. He had even accused her of doing away with her +poor brother, that she might claim the entire Duchy of Brabant for +herself.</p> + +<p>This guardian, Frederick of Telramund, knew well enough that Elsa was +incapable of so foul a deed. He knew that she had loved her brother +Godfrey far too well to do him harm. But Frederick had coveted the rich +lands and vast possessions of Brabant for many a year. And he was +determined to get them now by fair means or foul. Moreover, he had +married the pagan princess Ortrud, who was every whit as evil-minded and +ambitious as he. Ortrud's father, a heathen prince, had once owned part +of Brabant, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> they were confident that, with Godfrey and Elsa out of +the way, they could lay claim to the whole Duchy. How they plotted and +schemed together against poor Elsa!</p> + +<p>Do you wonder, then, that Elsa walked through the forest on that morning +long ago, with downcast eyes, oblivious to all save her own sad +thoughts? Her father was dead, her brother was gone, her guardian had +proved false. To whom should she turn for guidance? Weary and perplexed, +she sank down beneath the sheltering branches of a friendly tree near +by. All was calm and still. Her tired eyes rested upon the deep blue +dome of the sky, and thoughts of God, the All-Father, filled her mind. +Ah, she could put her trust in Him. And a prayer for help arose from her +heart. Perhaps it was the answer to her prayer, perhaps it was only a +dream, but then and there Elsa saw a marvelous vision. The heavens +opened, and disclosed a noble knight. Enveloped in heavenly light, this +knight descended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> to earth, and stood before Elsa. He smiled upon her, +and, like a miracle, she became tranquil and unafraid. He was so strong, +so stalwart, so brave! His shining white armor glittered in the +sunlight. A glistening sword hung by his side, a golden horn from his +shoulder. His eyes were kind. There was comfort in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Arise!" spoke he, "and go your way. Be of good cheer, and fear not, for +when your need is sorest, I will come to defend you."</p> + +<p>Then he vanished. Elsa was alone in the greenwood.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">II</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Just</span> at this time the King of all Germany came down to Brabant. With +pomp and ceremony he came, bringing rough knights from Saxony and brave +nobles from Thuringia, all good men and true, to bear him company.</p> + +<p>Henry the First was he, a wise king and a just. People called him Henry +the Fowler<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> because he was so fond of hunting. It may be, however, that +it was not the hunt that he loved so much as the great out-of-doors, the +wide plains, the wild forests, the winding rivers. Whenever he summoned +his faithful subjects to discuss affairs of peace or war, he chose some +meeting place under the blue sky, in God's temple, where men breathe +deeply, think clearly, and judge rightly.</p> + +<p>So, when at Brabant King Henry found no duke to greet him; when, +instead, he heard of strife, of discord, and of strange whispers, he sat +himself down beneath a giant oak on the bank of the winding river +Scheldt. And the trumpeters blew a great blast, the herald proclaimed +the King's presence, the trusty men who had come to bear him company +stood at arms, while the Brabantians gathered from north and south, from +east and west, of the Duchy to hearken to the King's word.</p> + +<p>"I had come here, my good people," began the King, "to ask the aid of +your forces in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> subduing the wild Hungarian foe. Full well do I know +that as loyal German subjects you are ready to answer your country's +call. But I find discord in your midst, strife and confusion. Therefore +have I called you together to learn the causes thereof and to deal +justly with the offenders, be it possible."</p> + +<p>The people of Brabant were pleased with the King's words and looked to +Frederick of Telramund to make answer. Frederick arose. Behind him stood +his wife, the dark-haired princess Ortrud, ready to prompt him should he +hesitate.</p> + +<p>But false Frederick did not hesitate. His voice did not tremble, +although he spoke with much show of grief. He made a low obeisance to +the King and besought sympathy for the sad tale he was about to tell. He +told how the dying Duke had intrusted Elsa and Godfrey to his care, how +tenderly he had reared them, how devotedly he had loved them, and how +sorely the mysterious disappearance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> of Godfrey had grieved him. And +then, he continued, he had been forced to believe that Elsa had murdered +her brother in order to claim the whole Duchy for herself—or +mayhap—for some secret lover. Therefore he, Frederick of Telramund, and +his wife Ortrud, by right of inheritance, besought the King to make them +Duke and Duchess of Brabant.</p> + +<p>"An astounding story indeed!" The free-men muttered to each other. The +nobles looked at Frederick and shook their heads. "The man must be sure +of his proof to make such an accusation," said they, as they turned +toward the King.</p> + +<p>King Henry sat with bowed head, in deep thought. He ran his hand over +his forehead, pondered a moment, and then murmured:</p> + +<p>"So foul a deed!"</p> + +<p>Aloud he said:</p> + +<p>"I would see this maid. I would look upon her face. I would hear her +tale. And may God guide my judgment aright."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>Hanging his shield on the giant oak behind him, King Henry swore never +to wear it again until justice had been done. And all the German nobles +drew their swords and thrust them, points down, into the ground, +swearing never to wear them again until justice had been done. And the +men of Brabant laid their swords at their feet, swearing the same. Then +the herald summoned Elsa.</p> + +<p>She came, the fair-haired Elsa, clad all in white, with her train of +ladies, all in white, behind her. They paused, and she, with hands +clasped and eyes cast down, advanced timidly, slowly, alone, until she +stood before the King. Her golden hair, unbound, hung a cloud of glory +about her. How young she was! How lovely! The rough knights gazed upon +her, and their eyes filled with tears. Surely no maiden with such a face +could be guilty of such a crime.</p> + +<p>The King spoke very gently. Was she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> Elsa of Brabant? She bowed her +head. Did she know the heavy charge that had been brought against her? +She bowed again. Was she willing that he, King Henry, should judge her? +Once more her head was bowed in assent. And it was only when the King +asked whether she was guilty of this murder that Elsa found voice. She +wrung her hands piteously, and exclaimed, "Oh, my poor, poor brother!"</p> + +<p>A dreamy look was upon Elsa's face as she told her story. Her voice +trembled, and her eyes strayed over the distant hills. It was as though +she saw it all again.</p> + +<p>She told of that day in the woods, her sad walk alone, her deep grief, +her utter weariness. She told of her rest beneath the friendly tree and +of the blue heaven overhead. But when she told of her prayer to God for +guidance in her distress, her faltering voice grew stronger, braver. +Rapturously, she told of her dream, and of the noble knight whose white +armor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> had glittered in the sunlight, of his sword, his horn, and, +last, of his promise.</p> + +<p>"Him will I trust!" she cried. "He shall my Champion be!"</p> + +<p>The knights, the nobles, the King, were startled. But Frederick of +Telramund cried out.</p> + +<p>"Such words do not mislead me. See! does she not speak of a secret +lover? What further proof do you need? Here stand I, and here's my +sword, both ready to fight for my honor."</p> + +<p>Now since King Henry believed that God in His wisdom would surely give +might to the hands that fought for Right, he asked Frederick if he were +ready to fight for life or death to uphold this charge that he had +brought.</p> + +<p>Frederick answered, "Yes."</p> + +<p>Then the King turned to Elsa, and asked her if she were willing to have +her champion fight for life or death to prove her blameless.</p> + +<p>Elsa answered, "Yes," and, to the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> astonishment of all, named her +unknown knight as her champion.</p> + +<p>"None other will I have," she said. "He will come to defend me, and upon +him will I bestow my father's lands. Aye, should he deign to wed me, I +will be his bride."</p> + +<p>"Then cry out the summons," ordered the King.</p> + +<p>The herald stepped forth with his trumpeters four. Placing one to the +east and one to the west, one to the north, and one to the south, he +bade them blow a great blast.</p> + +<p>"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!"</p> + +<p>The trumpet's call, the herald's words, fell on the clear air. The echo +sounded and resounded. There was a long pause. All was still.</p> + +<p>The dark-haired Ortrud curled her lips scornfully, and an evil smile lit +the face of Frederick of Telramund.</p> + +<p>"Once more, O King!" implored Elsa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>, "once more let the summons be +sounded!" and she fell upon her knees at his feet.</p> + +<p>The King nodded. The trumpeters blew another blast. Again the herald +cried out:</p> + +<p>"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!"</p> + +<p>Again the notes died away on the clear air. Again the echo sounded, +resounded. Another long pause. All was as still as before. Only the +voice of Elsa in prayer was heard. Oh, how she prayed! Her need was +great. Surely the noble knight of her dream would not fail her. God had +sent him to her in the greenwood. He would send him now. She would put +her trust in Him. And she bowed her head in her hands.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the men on the river bank were seen peering eagerly into the +distance. They beckoned, they waved, they whispered. Others ran to join +them. And they, too, gazed, then pointed excitedly down the river. What +strange sight was there? What was it that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> glittered, glistened from +afar? Its brightness dazzled the eyes. Ah! it was lost to view behind +the curving shore. No, it appeared again. Behold a wonder! A swan, a +snow-white swan was gliding gracefully toward them. It drew a boat, a +silver boat. And in the boat, erect, his bright armor glittering in the +sun, stood a knight. He leaned upon his sword. A helmet was on his head, +a shield on his shoulder, a horn by his side. The swan drew him nearer. +He approached the very bank. Oh, wondrous sight! A gallant knight had +been sent by Heaven to defend the fair-haired maiden. Might had come to +fight for Right.</p> + +<p>The men were awestruck. In silence, entranced, they gazed at the swan, +the boat, the Heaven-appointed knight. The King, from his seat beneath +the giant oak, surveyed the scene in bewilderment. Elsa felt the +excitement, heard the murmurs, still dared not lift her head. But the +face of Frederick was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> dark and gloomy to see, and Ortrud cowered down +in terror and shuddered strangely when she beheld the snow-white swan.</p> + +<p>The noble knight had stepped to the shore. Casting a loving look at his +dear swan, he bade it a tender farewell, and watched it sadly as it +glided away, over the water, around the curve, out of sight.</p> + +<p>Then he turned. Elsa, rising, uttered a cry of joy when she saw his +face. It was he! The noble knight of her dream! So strong, so stalwart, +so brave! He had come. There Was naught to fear.</p> + +<p>Solemnly, with long strides, armor glistening, sword clanking, helmet in +hand, the Swan Knight advanced and stood before the King. He made a low +obeisance, then announced that he had come to champion a guiltless maid +who had been falsely accused of a woeful crime. He looked at Elsa.</p> + +<p>"Elsa," he said, "do you choose me as your defender?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>"Yes," she cried.</p> + +<p>"And if I prove victorious, will you be my bride?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Surely there was little that she would not promise this noble knight who +had come from afar to defend her. And Elsa threw herself at his feet, +vowing to give him all she had, even her life, if need be. But the Swan +Knight raised her and, looking into her eyes, asked but one promise, a +strange one. If he was to defend her, if he was to be her husband, she +must trust him utterly. She must never ask his name. No, she must not +even think of it, or who he was, or from whence he came.</p> + +<p>At that moment it seemed very easy for Elsa to promise so simple a +thing. But the Swan Knight was very solemn, and he repeated the words +slowly, saying,—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Mark this well, Elsa.<br /> +These questions ask me never,<br /> +Nor think upon them ever,<br /> +From whence I hither came,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span><br /> +What is my rank or name."</td></tr></table> + +<p>She listened carefully, then promised gladly never to doubt him, always +to obey him. It was such a little thing, and was he not her shield, her +angel, her preserver?</p> + +<p>So the King arranged the fight. Three Saxons advanced for the Swan +Knight, three men of Brabant for Frederick of Telramund. With three +solemn paces they measured the ground. The King struck his sword three +times against his shield, and the battle was on.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Oh, let the arm of Right be strong,<br /> +And feeble be the arm of Wrong,"</td></tr></table> + +<p>sang the men.</p> + +<p>And it was so. God gave Might to the arm of the Knight. But a few passes +and falsehood and deceit were vanquished. Frederick the Traitor lay +prostrate on the ground with the sword of the Swan Knight pointed at his +throat. Still the Knight spared his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> life. He bade him go his way and +sin no more.</p> + +<p>Justice had been done. King Henry took his shield from the tree behind +him. The Saxons, the Thuringians, the Brabantians, resumed their swords. +God had been with them that day under the blue sky, and so amid great +rejoicing they bore Elsa and her Swan Knight from the field.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">III</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Night</span> hung over the palace. Sounds of revelry, a trumpet's blast, burst +from the gayly illuminated abode of the knights. But within the +apartments of the Duchess Elsa all was dark and still.</p> + +<p>Opposite stood the cathedral wherein, on the morrow, Elsa would become +the Swan Knight's bride. Though the delicate spires of the cathedral +pointed to a starry sky, dark shadows lurked about the portico. And in +the gloom of these shadows, two figures sat, two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> abject, miserable +figures,—Frederick of Telramund and Ortrud his wife. Despoiled of their +rich garments and shunned by all, they knew not which way to turn. Since +the Stranger Knight was now Guardian of Brabant, banishment was their +fate, poverty their portion.</p> + +<p>After the manner of evildoers, each charged the other with their +misfortune. False Frederick, who had been willing enough to listen to +the promptings of his witch-wife, now upraided her for having used +sorcery to accomplish her wicked ends. It was she who had urged him to +falsehood, he said; she who had induced him to turn traitor; she who had +blackened his ancient name and besmirched his honor. Stung to fury by +the recital of his woes, he called her evil names. He even wished for +his sword in order to strike her dead.</p> + +<p>But Ortrud was not a sorceress for nothing. She knew how to cool his +wrath. She taunted him, in turn, for showing cowardice in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> fight. +She called him weak of heart and feeble of purpose. She spoke thus: "Who +is this Swan Knight who has vanquished the once powerful Frederick? From +whence has he come? And what is his power? Only witchcraft has brought +him, witchcraft and magic. And magic will take him away. If but one +small point of his body can be injured, he will be helpless and at our +mercy."</p> + +<p>Frederick took heart when he heard these words. Perhaps all was not over +yet. Perhaps Ortrud's black magic and his strength could be used to some +purpose before the marriage day dawned. If doubt could be instilled into +the mind of Elsa, if she could be made to forget her promise, the spell +would be broken. Or, if the Swan Knight could be weakened, they would +regain their lost power over Brabant. So they plotted and planned, heads +close together, as the night wore away.</p> + +<p>Toward morning a light glimmered in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> apartments of the lovely Elsa. +Soon she appeared on the balcony singing a little song.</p> + +<p>Ortrud crept near and called to her. She called in a piteous tone, her +voice full of misery. She wept loudly and begged meekly for forgiveness. +She pretended a repentance for all her former misdeeds that she was far +from feeling.</p> + +<p>Elsa looked down and listened. When she beheld the once haughty Ortrud +clad in rags, on her knees, her heart melted. She held out her hands in +pity. That was just what the wicked Ortrud was waiting for. The rest was +easy. A few more tears, a little more make-believe penitence, and she +knew she would be forgiven. And sad to tell, it was so. Elsa, full of +love and new-found happiness, took Ortrud into her abode. She gave her a +splendid gown and allowed her to assist in the marriage preparations. +And the wicked Ortrud improved her opportunities. Artfully, she turned +the conversation to the approaching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> wedding, to the Stranger Knight who +had come by magic. Was not Elsa afraid that he would just as magically +disappear? But Elsa need not fear. Ortrud would always be her friend.</p> + +<p>Elsa tried to shake off the disquiet that Ortrud's words caused. But the +seed of suspicion was planted in her mind, and it grew, just as the +wicked Ortrud meant that it should.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile from his place behind the dark pillars of the cathedral, +Frederick had seen the first rosy streaks of dawn appear in the East. He +had heard the watchman in the tower give the signal of the new day, and +he had seen the answer flash from the distant turret. Rage overwhelmed +him. For he knew that Elsa's marriage morn had come.</p> + +<p>The sleeping palace awoke to life and activity. Servants hurried to and +fro preparing for the festival. The herald stepped forth followed by his +trumpeters four. They summoned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> the people, who came in gala array from +all sides. Groups of richly clad nobles walked proudly down the palace +steps and stood before the cathedral, waiting. All eyes were fixed upon +the balcony before the abode of the Duchess Elsa.</p> + +<p>All at once, a number of pages appeared there. They descended, two by +two, clearing the way to the cathedral steps and crying aloud:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Make way, make way,<br /> +Our Lady Elsa comes!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>The crowd, hushed and expectant, fell back. Then, down the stairway, +across the balcony, came a long train of fair ladies. Their satin +dresses swept the ground. Bright jewels sparkled and flashed as they +advanced slowly toward the cathedral steps. There they halted, ranging +themselves on each side to allow the Duchess Elsa to pass between them. +She, the fairest of them all, walked alone.</p> + +<p>Her dress of richest brocade trailed its heavy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> folds behind her. Ropes +of pearls were about her neck, and bound her golden hair. Her head was +held high, and her face was more beautiful than anything else in the +world. For joy illumined it and made it shine like a star. Was she not +going to meet her Knight, him whom God had sent to defend her?</p> + +<p>Her foot was upon the lowest step. She was about to ascend to the +cathedral when she was rudely pushed aside. Ortrud had sprung forward, +crying,—</p> + +<p>"Get back! I'll go first. My rank is higher than yours, and I shall not +walk behind you!"</p> + +<p>Elsa turned in astonishment. Was this the meek Ortrud who had come to +her begging forgiveness, pleading repentance?</p> + +<p>The people cried out in anger. But Ortrud, unheeding, went on:</p> + +<p>"My husband may be in disgrace, but he is greater than you all. He will +rule you yet. As for the husband you are to marry,—" and she looked at +the frightened Elsa,—"who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> is he? What is his rank? You dare not even +ask his name!"</p> + +<p>Poor Elsa protested. She tried to say that she did not care to know her +Swan Knight's name. Heaven had sent him, and she was content. His face +bore the stamp of noble birth, and she would always trust him. But her +voice faltered as she spoke. The seed of suspicion had taken root, and +dark doubts arose to torment her.</p> + +<p>At that moment, when the consternation was greatest, the King appeared +on the palace steps. With him, in proud array, were the good men and +true who had come to bear him company. And following them all was the +Swan Knight. His bearing seemed nobler than ever, as he trod proudly +forward to claim his bride.</p> + +<p>But when he saw the wicked Ortrud and the false Frederick, who by this +time had joined in denouncing him and questioning his name, his face +clouded. King Henry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> also, seeing the strife, pressed forward through +the crowd, giving orders to push aside the wicked couple.</p> + +<p>The Swan Knight took Elsa tenderly into his arms for a moment, looking +deep into her eyes. Then, led by the King, the marriage procession +proceeded into the cathedral.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">IV</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wedding festival was over. With flaming torches held aloft and +joyous voices raised in song, the procession of ladies and nobles led +the bride and bridegroom to their flower-bedecked chamber. Then, +showering blessings upon them, they departed. The torchlights faded in +the distance; the sound of march and song grew faint. It died away. Elsa +and her Swan Knight were alone.</p> + +<p>There was a brief silence while they gazed at each other in rapture. +She, so lovely, was his inmost heart's desire. He, so brave, was the +beloved Knight of her dream. Their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> voices grew soft with happiness, and +on their faces was the glow of a deep joy.</p> + +<p>Too soon, however, at the sound of her name on her lover's lips, a shade +stole over Elsa's bright face. "Ah!" thought she, "I can never call him +by his name, for I shall never know what it is." Then, like a flash, all +of Ortrud's taunts came to her mind. And following them, all the dark +doubts, the vague suspicions, arose again to torment her.</p> + +<p>First she sat in moody silence. But soon a strange curiosity showed +itself in her speech. Would the fetters that bound the Swan Knight's +lips ne'er be loosened? Must she, his wife, always remain in ignorance? +If he loved her truly, he would surely whisper his secret ever so softly +into her ear. No one should ever know. She would guard the secret well, +locking it within her very heart.</p> + +<p>Thus she pleaded and begged, but the Swan Knight pretended not to hear +her. He spoke of other things, striving to distract her mind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>But Elsa would not be put off. Her eyes were fixed upon the Knight, and +her face, but lately aglow with wonder and delight, was clouded with +unbelief and suspicion.</p> + +<p>The Knight was distressed by this sudden change. He reminded her gently +of the confidence that he had placed in her promise. He warned her +tenderly of the sorrows that would befall if she did not cease her +questioning. He had given up so much honor, yes, and glory besides, to +stay by her side. Would she not trust him utterly?</p> + +<p>Scarcely had Elsa heard the words "glory and honor" than a horrible fear +seized her. "He had come by magic," Ortrud had said, "and by magic he +would go." Now she knew how it would befall. Soon he would tire of her +and would return to the honor and glory from which he had come. Stricken +with terror, she fancied that she already heard the Swan coming to carry +him away. It was too much to bear! Cost what it might, she must learn +who he was.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>"Where do you come from?" she cried "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Elsa!" answered the Knight, sadly, "what have you done?"</p> + +<p>But before he could utter another word, Frederick of Telramund burst +into the room with drawn sword in hand.</p> + +<p>Elsa saw him first. She forgot her doubt. She forgot her question. She +thought only that the Swan Knight, her lover, was in danger.</p> + +<p>"Save yourself!" she shrieked. "Your sword, your sword!" She thrust it +into his hand.</p> + +<p>He drew it quickly. There was a short parry, one blow; and base +Frederick lay dead at the Swan Knight's feet.</p> + +<p>Then the Swan Knight turned to Elsa. His eyes were tender, but, oh, how +pitying! Their glance pierced Elsa's heart, and filled her with despair +for what she had done. His voice was sad as he bade her clothe herself +in bridal raiment and go before the King.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> There, on the morrow, he +would make fitting answer and tell her the rank he bore. And so saying, +he walked sorrowfully out of the flower-bedecked room.</p> + +<p>The next day dawned bright and clear. As was his wont, King Henry the +Fowler sat beneath the giant oak on the bank of the winding river +Scheldt. By his side stood the nobles from Saxony and Thuringia who had +come to bear him company. And before him were assembled the men of +Brabant, from north and south, from east and west, of the Duchy.</p> + +<p>Slowly, with measured strides, four men walked into their midst. They +bore the body of Frederick of Telramund on a bier, which they placed +before the King.</p> + +<p>The nobles looked anxiously at one another. What strange happening was +this? For, closely following, tottering feebly, came the Duchess Elsa +and her train of ladies. Solemnly they marched with eyes downcast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +while she, who but lately had been radiant with happiness, was sad and +pale. Her eyes, unseeing, stared in anguish straight ahead!</p> + +<p>The King stepped quickly forward. He looked inquiringly into her face as +he led her to a seat beside him. Elsa could not meet his eyes. She +moistened her lips twice, thrice, but no sound came.</p> + +<p>Just then a shout arose from the men:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Hail, all hail,<br /> +The hero of Brabant!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>they cried.</p> + +<p>The Swan Knight entered. His armor glittered in the sunlight. A sword +hung at his side, a horn from his shoulder. How strong he was! How +brave! But how strangely sad was his face. He advanced, helmet in hand, +and stood before the King. Making a low obeisance, he strode toward the +bier of the dead Frederick. He uncovered the body, and then solemnly +asked the King's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> pardon for having killed this man who had stolen by +stealth upon him.</p> + +<p>"Nay, ask not our pardon!" spoke the just King. "We approve your deed!"</p> + +<p>And all the men of Brabant nodded in assent.</p> + +<p>But that was not all the Swan Knight had to tell. His wife, Elsa of +Brabant, had broken her promise. She had asked his name. And since it +was a law of the Order to which he belonged, he would make public answer +to her question. But then he must depart to the distant land from which +he had come.</p> + +<p>Astonishment spread like wildfire among the people. As for Elsa, she sat +like a creature of stone. Only Ortrud, who had crept near to listen, +smiled in ill-concealed triumph.</p> + +<p>The Swan Knight's face was suffused with holy light. The eyes of his +soul seemed to be peering far, far away into the distance beyond the +winding river, beyond the gray hills, perhaps to the very gates of +heaven itself.</p> + +<p>He told the tale of a marvelous Temple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> rising from the heights of +Mount Salvat, wherein, upon a mystic shrine, rested the sacred chalice +called the Holy Grail. He told of the few chosen knights who guarded the +wondrous Grail, and who, by its Heaven-given powers, were protected from +baneful harm and endowed with supernatural might. Whenever an innocent +cause needed a champion, whenever a grievous wrong had been done, one of +the knights sallied forth and defended the one who had been falsely +accused. But it was a law that no one might know from whence he came or +by what name he was called. For if once the truth were revealed, his +power was gone; the knight must hasten back to the Temple of the Grail.</p> + +<p>The Swan Knight's voice rose higher. Like some rare, sweet strain of +music, it fell upon the air:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"The Grail obeying, here to you I came;<br /> +My father Parsifal, a crown he weareth,<br /> +His Knight am I and Lohengrin my name!"</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>The shadow of a great awe crept into the eyes of all who heard. They +stared at Lohengrin in silence.</p> + +<p>Only Elsa sank moaning to the ground. Lohengrin caught her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Elsa, dear one," he cried, "why did you strive to learn my secret? +Now I must leave you forever. Had you but remained faithful to your +promise for one year, even your brother Godfrey would have come back to +you. Here is my sword, my horn, my ring. Should he ever return, give +them to him. The sword will help him in battle, the horn will give him +aid in an hour of need, and the ring will remind him of Lohengrin, who +defended you. Now farewell! The Grail calls me. My swan is here."</p> + +<p>While he had been speaking, the snow-white swan, drawing the empty boat, +had glided quietly up the winding river. It stood at the shore. The +people gazed at it mournfully. Even Lohengrin greeted it in sadness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>Suddenly the dark-haired Ortrud, who had been watching, approached the +shore. She leaned over the snow-white swan, and when she saw the golden +circlet about its neck, she laughed fiendishly.</p> + +<p>"It is he!" she cried. "It is Godfrey! My magic changed him into a swan, +and a swan he shall remain!" and she grinned exultingly at Elsa.</p> + +<p>Lohengrin, about to enter the boat, stopped at the sound of Ortrud's +voice. He listened a moment. Then he fell upon his knees and prayed, +while all the people waited breathlessly.</p> + +<p>His prayer was lifted up in silence and borne, who shall say where—to +what High and Holy presence? For as he prayed a white dove descended and +hovered over the boat.</p> + +<p>Seeing that his prayer was answered, Lohengrin rose to his feet +enraptured. He took the chain from the neck of the swan. The swan sank +into the water. And where it had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> been stood Godfrey, the rightful Duke +of Brabant.</p> + +<p>Elsa fell into her brother's arms with a glad cry. Then together they +watched Lohengrin enter his boat which, drawn by the dove, glided slowly +down the winding river, and out of mortal sight forevermore.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus144.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE FLYING DUTCHMAN</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">I</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">A storm</span> on the ocean is a fearful thing to see. It roars, it flashes, it +races huge waves mountain-high one after the other, it dashes them +furiously against the sharp rocks, it howls, it blows, and it tosses +great ships about as though they were tiny toys.</p> + +<p>Once, long, long ago there was just such a storm as this off the Cape of +Good Hope, that most southern point of Africa. For the Evil Spirit who +ruled the seas in those days, and who had many servants to do his +bidding, had ordered one of them, the Wind Storm, to sweep over the +waters far and wide. Perhaps the Evil Spirit wanted to add to the +treasures that he had gathered from all the ships he had +wrecked—treasures that he kept far beneath the water.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>At any rate, the Wind Storm did as he was told. He lashed the mighty +waves into anger so that they crashed against the jagged rocks of the +Cape, and all the ships that were abroad scudded swiftly along before +him in fear.</p> + +<p>"Go home," whistled the Wind Storm through the sails. "Go back to your +safe harbors. There is no room for you on this sea. I need it +all—all—all."</p> + +<p>And the ships scurried into their harbors—all but one. The captain of +that ship was not afraid of the Wind Storm nor of the Evil Spirit, +either, for that matter. His ship was strong, and so was his will. He +was determined to go around the Cape. He stood at the prow while the +ship rocked violently to and fro. The salt spray dashed over him, but +still he defied the Wind Storm.</p> + +<p>"I will not go back," he cried, and he swore a mighty oath. "I'll sail +on and round that Cape if I sail forever."</p> + +<p>Now the Evil Spirit happened to be lurking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> beneath the angry waters, +and he heard the oath.</p> + +<p>"Very well," cried he. "Sail on forever and ever, then! Sail on until +you find a maiden fair who will be willing to die for love of you!"</p> + +<p>And so it came to pass. Through all the long years that followed, the +ship sailed on and on. In fair or foul weather, over smooth or stormy +seas, under blue or gray skies, the strange voyage continued year after +year.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the captain in his despair would steer straight for the craggy +rocks, hoping to be dashed to pieces, but the rocks would not harm his +ship. He steered in the path of terrible pirates, but when the pirates +saw the ship, they crossed themselves and hurried away. The blustering +tempest would not harm it, nor the eddying whirlpool. It just sailed on +and on.</p> + +<p>The sailors, who had been young and lively, grew old and silent. Their +hearts were as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> gray as their heads, for though the days grew into +weeks, the weeks into years, the years into centuries, still there was +no rest for them. Their faces became as white as ghosts, and some say +that the blood left their bodies and crept into the sails. At any rate, +the strong, white ship turned black and weather-beaten, and the strong, +white sails, red, red as blood.</p> + +<p>Only the captain remained forever young and handsome, and each seven +years as the ship sailed into some harbor, he was allowed to go on shore +to seek the maiden fair who would deliver him and his crew from their +fate and set them at rest. But alas! no such maiden had he ever found. +Many maidens had he met and loved, and many had loved him, too, but to +be true to him forever and to die for him,—that was quite another +matter.</p> + +<p>And so each time "The Flying Dutchman" had gone on again, until once at +the end of a seven years' period he came to the coast of Norway.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">II</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Heigho</span>, heigho! sang the sailors of a gay Norwegian bark as they cast +anchor in a sheltered bay on the coast of Norway to escape the tempest, +which had been tossing them about on the open sea. What though the south +wind had driven them a few miles out of their course? The sunrise of +another day would find them safe at home after their long voyage. In +fancy, they could already see the dear ones on the shore, waving, +smiling, welcoming! So "heigho, heigho for to-morrow!" sang they.</p> + +<p>Only Daland, the captain, was full of gloom. Impatient was he, also, for +had he not expected to spend that very night by his own fireside with +his daughter Senta? And now to wait here, so near and yet so far, with a +raging sea between him and his peaceful home, was an ordeal, indeed. To +battle with those angry waves had been no easy task, either.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> A little +sleep would not harm him, thought he.</p> + +<p>Now you must know that in those days the seas were full of dread pirates +and bold robbers who prowled about seeking plunder, and so, before +Daland lay down to sleep, he called his steersman and bade him keep +sharp watch. The steersman did—for a little while. But he, too, was +tired. First he sang right lustily a merry song about the distant climes +where he had traveled, and of the kind winds that would send him back to +his sweetheart. Soon, however, his voice faltered; it grew fainter and +fainter. His head nodded once, twice. He, too, was asleep.</p> + +<p>Then, while no one watched, slowly, quietly, out of the west, came an +old weather-beaten vessel with red, red sails, straight into that very +bay. Only you and I know whence it came, and how endless had been its +wanderings. So silently did it sail, so ghostly were its movements, that +no one on all Daland's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> boat heard a single sound. No one heard the +noiseless dropping of the anchor, the lowering of those red, red sails. +Nor did any one hear the sigh of relief with which the worn sailors +crept away to their berths, nor see the hope and longing that lit their +pale faces as they saw their captain spring eagerly to the shore.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the captain stamped too heavily up and down on the wet sand, +glad to feel the solid earth under his feet once more. Perhaps he raised +his arms to heaven and cried aloud to God to help him now find the +maiden fair who would love him truly forever. Why, I do not know, but +just then Daland awoke with a start.</p> + +<p>A strange vessel alongside! How he chided the drowsy steersman! A +strange captain on the shore! Quickly he leaped to the sand to greet +him!</p> + +<p>"Whence come you?" asked Daland, "and whither are you going?"</p> + +<p>The Dutchman replied but little. "Holland,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> he said, "and a wanderer +seeking shelter for his vessel from the storm." Home he had none, nor +wife, nor child, and gladly would he pay of his treasures for one night +at somebody's hospitable hearth.</p> + +<p>And while Daland was marveling at this strange tale, and had begun to +tell of his own home so near and yet so far away, the stranger, at a +sign, had received a huge chest from his ship and was opening it before +Daland's eyes.</p> + +<p>If "all the wild flowers of the forest, all the lilies of the prairie," +all the glorious colors of sunrise and sunset, if the rainbow itself, +had been packed away in a chest to be suddenly opened before you, +perhaps you would have been surprised, too. Gold was there, and silver +was there, and the white sheen of pearls, and the bright sparkle of +diamonds, and the deep glow of rubies, all there dancing, glittering, in +Daland's astonished eyes. Was this some marvelous dream? When he found +that the treasure was real, he remembered Senta, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> offered the +Dutchman his home for the night, telling him that his daughter ...</p> + +<p>The Dutchman caught the word "daughter." Had Daland a daughter? Would he +give her to him for a wife? And Daland, who had been thinking what a +fine husband such a man, with a ship full of treasures, would be for his +daughter, lost no time, and said yes.</p> + +<p>Then hope came again to the heart of the Dutchman. He was impatient to +see this maiden who, he silently prayed, might be the one to deliver him +from his fate. And while he prayed, the wind changed, the clouds broke, +a ray of sunshine peeped through, the sea became smooth as glass.</p> + +<p>"You'll see her this day," said Daland.</p> + +<p>And so, bidding the sailors raise anchor, Daland went aboard his boat, +the Dutchman aboard his, and with a heigho, heigho, they sailed out of +the bay.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">III</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Daland's</span> home stood, as a sailor's home should, near the sea. Through +its white-curtained windows one could see far out over the blue water, +to the broad horizon, where ships hovered like white birds against the +sky.</p> + +<p>Inside the house all was as sweet and clean as the willing hands of old +Marie, the house-keeper, could make it. The walls, rough and unpainted, +were almost covered with flat blue maps and sailor's charts, save where, +over the wide doorway, a single picture hung.</p> + +<p>It was the picture of a man; a man with a pale face, a long, black +beard, and strange, foreign-looking clothes. But I do not need to tell +you who he was. You know the story behind those melancholy eyes that +looked out so sadly from the picture. You have heard it this very day.</p> + +<p>Had you entered that sunny room on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> certain afternoon long, long ago, +you would have seen a group of happy girls, under the direction of +Marie, all diligently spinning. And, had you stopped to listen, you +would have heard merry chatter and light-hearted snatches of song +mingled with the whir-r, whir-r, whir-r-r of those quick-turning wheels. +How they joked, and laughed, and sang, those girls of long ago!</p> + +<p>Did I say all? No, not all. For there was one who sat quite apart, her +idle hands in her lap, her young face uplifted, and her dreaming eyes +fixed on the portrait over the door. She was Senta, the daughter of +Daland.</p> + +<p>Once, when Senta was very young, old Marie had told her the history of +that pale man in the picture, and the sadness of his fate, and that of +his unhappy crew, had touched her tender heart. And, because she was an +imaginative girl, who fancied strange things, the picture of the Flying +Dutchman, wandering over unknown seas, came back to her mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> again and +again. She thought of him by day; she dreamed of him by night. She even +began to imagine that God had destined her to be that maiden fair whose +love would deliver him from his mournful roaming. But certainly she +never breathed such a strange thought to a single soul.</p> + +<p>Until that day! Then, as all the busy girls laughingly teased her for +her idleness, and twitted her for being in love with a mere shadow +instead of with the real, strong, young hunter Eric, who wanted to marry +her, she grew impatient. To still their chatter, she cried out +fretfully:</p> + +<p>"Oh, girls, cease your foolish songs and your spinning! I am tired of +all the humming and buzzing. Do you want me to join you? Listen, and +I'll sing the ballad of the Flying Dutchman. Then you'll know why his +sad fate touches my heart."</p> + +<p>Senta began her singing. The girls stopped their wheels to listen, and +as they listened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> their eyes grew round with wonder. They, too, pitied +the poor captain and his unhappy crew. But when Senta described these +aimless wanderings that nothing could change except that maiden fair who +would be willing to die for love, the girls interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried they. "Where in all the world is there such a maiden?"</p> + +<p>"Here!" answered Senta, and she sang:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Angel above, oh! bring to me<br /> +The pale man sailing o'er the sea!"</td></tr></table> + +<p>Do you wonder that all the girls, even Marie, started up in alarm when +they heard that strange prayer? No doubt they thought Senta had gone out +of her mind. Loudly they called, until Eric the hunter came running into +the room. He reasoned, he pleaded with Senta, but all in vain. She could +think of nothing but the story of the man whose picture hung on the +wall.</p> + +<p>Just when the excitement was greatest, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> cry from without told of the +approach of Daland's boat. There was no time for foolish thoughts, then. +A meal must be prepared, the table set, the glasses filled! Away hurried +the girls and old Marie.</p> + +<p>In a moment Daland was at the door. Who was that pale visitor, so +strangely like the picture above his head, entering behind him? Senta +stared from one to the other. She could scarcely greet her father. She +knew at once who this stranger was, just as you know and as I know. But +Daland knew not.</p> + +<p>He, proud and happy, thinking of that ship full of treasures, lost no +time in telling Senta that this was the man he had chosen to be her +husband on the morrow, if she were willing.</p> + +<p>Senta was quite willing, for had she not loved this stranger for a long, +long time? As for the Flying Dutchman, he gazed into those trusting +eyes, and was filled with a great joy and a greater hope. Often when +tossed about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> on the cruel waves had he dreamed of a maiden just as +fair, just as pure as this one who now stood before him. If she would +but be constant, all would be well, thought he. And, as he gazed, he +heard her sweet voice saying,</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Whoever thou art, whatever thy fate,<br /> +I will be thy love, I will be thy mate."</td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">IV</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> marriage feast was quickly prepared. The jolly sailor boys, the +pretty peasant girls, all lent helping hands, and soon the merrymaking +on board the gayly lighted ship began. Only on the black ship with the +red sails was there darkness and silence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a young girl walked hastily down to the shore. It was Senta, +the daughter of Daland, and closely following her, came Eric the hunter. +He begged her to hearken to his wooing once more. He pleaded with her to +give up that mysterious stranger who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> come between them. Had she +forgotten all her promises? Must her father's rash command be obeyed?</p> + +<p>Because Eric was an old friend, and because Senta was a kind-hearted +girl, she listened patiently to all that he had to say. Not that a +single word could have altered her determination to live and to die, if +need be, for the Flying Dutchman. She loved him too well for that.</p> + +<p>Even while she listened to Eric, she thought tenderly of her new lover +and of how good God had been to allow her to be the maiden fair who +would relieve his endless suffering.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was just that tender thought showing in her face that the +Dutchman mistook for regret. For, at that very moment, when Eric was +pleading so earnestly, and Senta was listening so patiently, the +Dutchman came down to the shore.</p> + +<p>He looked first at Eric, then at Senta, and like a flash came the +thought that here was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> another girl who would not keep her promise. +There had been so many like that. He did not stop to ask or to reason. +Frantic with disappointment and despair, he rushed blindly over the +rocks toward his ship.</p> + +<p>"To sea! To sea forevermore!" cried he.</p> + +<p>Now, you know Senta had not ceased loving him at all. So, although Eric +tried to detain her, she ran swiftly after the Dutchman. She clung to +him, crying out her love, and vowing eternal faithfulness again and +again. So loudly did she cry, that Daland and Marie came hurrying, too.</p> + +<p>The Dutchman managed to loosen her arms, to free himself. He waved her +back, and a great change came over his face. Gone were all thoughts of +himself and of his sad fate. He thought only of this pure maiden who was +willing to die for his sake. He knew now that he loved her too well to +let her pay such an awful price. Rather would he sail on and on +forever.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>Warning her not to come nearer, he leaped into his boat. Then, as the +gray sailors unfurled the red, red sails and the black ship plunged +forward, he stretched out his arms and told who he was. "The Flying +Dutchman am I, the Scourge of the Sea," he shouted.</p> + +<p>Daland, Marie, Eric, crossed themselves and looked after him in horror. +Not so, Senta. She had always known who he was. She would save him. She +would be faithful until death. With a glad cry, she leaped forward and +cast herself into the seething sea.</p> + +<p>The waves closed over her. And as they closed a strange thing happened. +At the very same moment, the black ship, the red sails, the sailors, all +disappeared. Only a rosy light lay over the water where they had been. +And in that rosy light, which ascended from the blue water to the blue +sky, were seen, in close embrace, the angel forms of the Flying Dutchman +and his maiden fair, floating onward and upward, toward their eternal +rest.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus163.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">THE WARTBURG</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">TANNHÄUSER, THE MINSTREL KNIGHT</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">I</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">This</span> is a tale of long ago. It is a tale of the days of knighthood and +minstrelsy; of the days when field and forest rang with the clash of +arms, and baronial halls echoed with the sound of harp and voice; when +brave knights vied with one another not only in jousts and tourneys at +arms, but in tournaments of song as well.</p> + +<p>In those strange days a majestic castle, called the Wartburg, stood on a +lofty peak overlooking the green and peaceful valleys of Thuringia. The +Landgrave Herman and his niece, the beautiful Princess Elizabeth, lived +there, and they were attended by a splendid court of nobles, knights, +and fair ladies.</p> + +<p>The Wartburg was the scene of many gay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> festivals. Time and again the +good people of Thuringia would gather from near and far to watch +gallant, armor-clad knights ride out with lance and spear to mimic +warfare. But more often they would gather within the great castle hall +to listen to the melodies of well-tuned harps and sweet-voiced singers +in tournaments of song.</p> + +<p>The white hand of the beautiful Princess placed the laurel wreath of +victory most often upon the brow of one bold young Minstrel Knight, +Tannhäuser by name. His was the rarest gift of poetry, his the sweetest +voice. Nor was any one more beloved than he. His prowess in battle, his +skill with lance and spear, his fearless eye, had made him a favorite of +the Landgrave; while his noble bearing, the light touch of his fingers +upon the harp strings, and his clear young voice had won the heart of +the proud Princess.</p> + +<p>But Tannhäuser, unmindful of these great gifts of fortune, had, in a +rash moment, quarreled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> with his companions. Angry beyond reason, +forgetful of both friendship and love, he had cast himself away from the +Wartburg, and had sought the solace of solitude.</p> + +<p>Opposite the Wartburg, black and foreboding against the blue of the sky, +like a giant of old, towered a mountain, the Horselburg. And thither, +sad to relate, the footsteps of the errant Minstrel Knight led the way.</p> + +<p>Now, it seems that when Venus, the Goddess of Love, was banished from +the earth, she hid herself away from the eyes of all righteous men, deep +within the heart of that very mountain, the Horselburg. Brooding over +her fancied wrongs, she lived there and plotted evil against mankind. +Her domain was a wonderful cave, all shadows and mystery; and her +subjects were strange creatures of the underworld. And, the story went, +from a couch of gold where she sat arrayed in richest garments, she +lured guileless wanderers through an unseen portal in the mountain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +side, straight into her kingdom. And while her siren voice cast its +spell, while her fatal beauty wove its charm, the poor wanderer was +powerless. He followed, and followed, forever and a day, and knew not +where. But the face of the earth saw him no more.</p> + +<p>Do you wonder, with such a story abroad, that the Horselburg was shunned +by old and young? But what cared the bold Minstrel Knight for strange +goddesses or their powers? Tannhäuser was clad in all the trappings of +knighthood; he had his armor, his lance; the harp of his minstrelsy hung +by his side. So he came to the foot of the Horselburg, dreamily, +heedlessly, but unafraid.</p> + +<p>Still, as he paused to rest beneath an over-hanging rock at the mouth of +a cave, he fancied that he heard the sound of rushing water. He started, +looking both to the right and to the left. There was no water to be +seen. A moment later the faint tinkle of bells fell upon his ear; then +the echo of a distant melody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> followed. He arose and peered into the +cave. His venturesome spirit prompted him to take one step +forward,—then another. Through the shadows he detected the glimmer of +many lights, now red, now violet, now blue. What was the rosy haze that +enveloped him? And the faint music that drew him on and on? A delicate +odor assailed his nostrils. A delicious languor overcame him. "Where am +I?" he called. But the only answer was the clang as of a closing door, +and the sound of a rippling laugh. A moment later, led by unseen magic, +blinded by light and overpowered by sound, he stumbled into a region of +enchantment, into the presence of Venus herself.</p> + +<p>A fascinating, bewitching goddess was Venus, and Tannhäuser lingered at +her feet for a long time. Her magic drew a veil before his eyes, which +blinded and enthralled him. And he mistook the mocking cruelty of her +face for beauty and the lure of her glance for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> kindness and love. So he +played upon his harp and sang marvelous new songs to her and knelt +before her to pay her homage. He forgot all about the past, his +knighthood, his minstrelsy, his home, his friends. He even forgot his +God.</p> + +<p>Nymphs danced before him, elfin creatures made music for him, strange +flowers delighted his eyes, and all was an unceasing round of pleasure +day after day. There was no sun to shine, no moon, no stars. Spring +never came, nor winter. It was all as though the world had never been.</p> + +<p>Still there came a day at last when Tannhäuser awoke. He awoke as if +from a dream. For a sound had pierced the very rocks and reached his +ears. It was the chime of distant church bells.</p> + +<p>Tannhäuser ran his hand across his forehead and staggered to his feet. +He remembered.</p> + +<p>With the remembrance came a loathing and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> a longing that were pain. He +hated the perfume-laden mists about him, the strange flowers, and the +nymphs with their songs and endless whirling dances. He longed for a +breath of pure woodland air, for the sight of rain-freshened grass, for +the sound of the lark's song at dawn.</p> + +<p>So he seized his harp and sang to Venus and begged her to let him go +back to earth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goddess," he implored, "let me go."</p> + +<p>But Venus only smiled a dreamy smile and spoke in soft whispers of the +charm of her domain. And the dancers circled about in a maddening whirl, +ever faster and faster. The odor of the strange flowers became still +heavier. Sparkling points of light gleamed among the shadows. A +mysterious blue lake appeared in the hazy distance, and misty clouds of +rose and gold floated in the air.</p> + +<p>But Tannhäuser still remembered. He loathed the never-ending delights; +the ceaseless ease and rest; the songs, the odors, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> mist. Ah! for +but a sight of Heaven's clear blue, its clouds and sun of noonday, its +moon and stars of night; the changing round of seasons, seed time and +harvest; the mingled joys and pains; and work, thrice-blessed work!</p> + +<p>Tannhäuser took up his harp and sang to Venus once more. The strings +rang with the vigor of his touch; his voice soared high in +heart-stirring refrain. He promised that as long as he had life he would +sing the praises of Venus. Wherever he might roam, her name—and hers +alone—would bring a song to his lips. As her champion would he fare +forth upon the earth again. All this he promised, if she would only set +him free.</p> + +<p>Anger overwhelmed the goddess—but she hesitated no longer. Let him +spread her fame and name through the upper world that had banished her! +With one sweep of her arms she broke the chains of enchantment that +bound Tannhäuser fast. Crying,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>"If all hope is lost, return to me!" she bade him depart.</p> + +<p>At that moment a terrific crash rent the air. It seemed as though the +earth had been burst asunder. The mists, the gleaming figures, the cave, +disappeared; and—</p> + +<p>Tannhäuser found himself lying on a grassy knoll in a sunlit valley. On +one side was the black and gloomy Horselburg; on the other a lofty peak +crowned by the Wartburg, stately, grand, majestic, as of yore.</p> + +<p>Flowers bloomed all about; the sky was serene and beautiful; birds sang; +a gentle breeze swayed the trees.</p> + +<p>From the cliff above came the sound of a pipe. A young shepherd was +watching his flock there, and he sang a tender little song, all +sweetness and melody. The simple beauty of it, the purity, touched +Tannhäuser's heart, and as he listened his eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the sonorous tones of men's voices filled the air. Then down +the winding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> pathway and through the valley came the tramp, tramp, +tramp, of many feet. And to the solemn strains of a song of prayer a +band of pilgrims passed slowly by on the way to Rome to seek pardon for +their sins. The little shepherd bared his head until the last pilgrim +had passed him by. Then, waving his cap, he shouted:</p> + +<p>"God speed, God speed! Say one prayer for me!"</p> + +<p>But Tannhäuser sat as one spellbound, until all at once, deeply +overcome, he fell upon his knees. Ah, where could <i>he</i> look for pardon +for <i>his</i> sins? The memory of all that ill-spent time in the Venusburg +rushed upon him. Could he pray to the God whom he had forgotten? Tears +choked his voice, and although a prayer arose from his heart it found no +utterance. He lay prone upon the ground, weeping bitterly.</p> + +<p>The song of the pilgrims, the measured tread of their feet, grew faint +and still fainter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> It died away in the distance. Quiet ruled the +peaceful valley again, for even the shepherd boy had gathered his flock +and gone silently away.</p> + +<p>Soon, however, the cheery sound of hunters' horns and the answering bay +of dogs broke the silence. A moment later, a pack of dogs ran down the +forest path from the Wartburg, followed by the Landgrave Herman and his +Knights, all clad in hunting dress.</p> + +<p>Seeing the figure of a knight lying upon the ground, their curiosity was +at once aroused. One of the party, Sir Wolfram, ran hastily forward. A +single glance was enough.</p> + +<p>"Tannhäuser!" he cried. "Is it you?"</p> + +<p>Tannhäuser arose hastily, striving to control his emotion and bowed +mutely to the Landgrave.</p> + +<p>At first the Knights were uncertain whether he had come back as friend +or foe. But his humble, downcast looks soon spoke for him. So they +welcomed him gladly into their midst.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>But Tannhäuser was loath to stay. He knew that if once the Knights +learned where he had been, they would shrink from him in horror. Looking +into their friendly faces, he was overwhelmed with disgust for all that +wicked time in the Venusburg. He longed to fly from their sight.</p> + +<p>Since he would not listen to the entreaties of the Landgrave and his +Knights, Sir Wolfram, Tannhäuser's old friend, added his plea:</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten Elizabeth?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth!" Tannhäuser exclaimed in a tone of awe,—Elizabeth, the +beautiful Princess, whose name he had forgotten—what of her?</p> + +<p>Then Wolfram, speaking softly,—for he loved the beautiful princess +also,—told Tannhäuser all. He told of that rare prize—the Princess's +love—which had remained constant during Tannhäuser's long absence. Many +Knights had striven to win her, but she had remained true to the one who +had gone away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> While Tannhäuser had strayed in distant lands, she had +stayed in her bower saddened and alone, never gracing the tournaments +with her presence, never coming forth to witness joust or tourney. Would +he forsake a love like that?</p> + +<p>Deeply touched, Tannhäuser listened until the end. Then the light of a +great joy and a great hope illumined his face. If Elizabeth, the proud +Princess, had not forgotten him, perhaps he might still continue as a +Minstrel Knight in the Wartburg.</p> + +<p>"Lead me to her," he cried,—"to her."</p> + +<p>So the Landgrave sounded his horn, and to the lively baying of the dogs +and the joyous song of the Knights the whole party proceeded to the +Wartburg.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">II</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the news of Tannhäuser's return spread through the Wartburg, there +was great rejoicing. Smiles of gladness appeared on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> every face. Tall +knights held out hands of welcome; small pages hastened to do him honor. +Him whom they should have loathed, they greeted as a comrade, hailed as +a hero. For they knew not where he had been.</p> + +<p>And the joy of the Princess Elizabeth surpassed that of all the rest. +Misery vanished from her face. Delight took its place. All her years of +sadness were forgotten, and as she entered the Hall of the Minstrels, a +song of joy sprang unbidden from her lips. Had not the knight to whom +she had given her heart returned from his wanderings in foreign lands? +And would he not take his place among the minstrels as of old in a +Tournament of Song on that very day? His melodious harp and his rich +voice would ring out once again, and hers would be the hand to crown him +with the wreath of victory.</p> + +<p>The Princess smiled happily as she walked through the great hall and +joined her uncle, the Landgrave, upon the throne. The Landgrave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> watched +her approach, and his face beamed with pride. Was there ever a more +beautiful Princess? Her lovely face was aglow. Her eyes shone with a +luster as deep as that of the jewels about her neck. Her skin was fairer +than the lilies that she held in her hand. From the shining tresses of +her hair where a little golden crown sent out glittering sparks of light +to the last heavy fold of silvery satin that trailed behind her, she was +a creature to be honored, to be reverenced, to be loved.</p> + +<p>"How glad I am to have you at my side once more!" whispered the +Landgrave as they made ready to receive the nobles and fair ladies who +had been bidden to the contest. For already the measured tread of many +feet was heard in the distance.</p> + +<p>Presently through the pillared doorway, to the sound of martial music +and the fluttering of flags, the guests entered the hall, and in stately +procession approached the throne.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> Then, after a bow from the Landgrave +and a word of greeting from the Princess, the pages led each to a place +in the huge semicircle of seats that half filled the hall.</p> + +<p>When all had arrived, the Landgrave arose, and, turning first to his +guests and then to the Minstrels who were seated on low benches facing +them all, made his address of greeting. He told of the many song +festivals that had been held within the ancient hall, and how each +had added to the fair fame of the nation. Many deeds, many emotions, +had been celebrated in song, said he, but the sweetest of +all—Love—remained—and would be the theme of that day's contest.</p> + +<p>The minstrel who could sing most worthily about love would receive +love's prize as a reward—the hand of Elizabeth, the Princess.</p> + +<p>"Up then, arouse ye! sing, O gallant minstrels! attune your harps to +love! Great is the prize."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>A great shout of approval marked the end of the Landgrave's speech.</p> + +<p>"Hail, all hail, Lord of Thuringia!" cried hundreds of voices.</p> + +<p>When all was still, two little pages carried a golden cup containing the +names of the singers to the Princess. She drew one folded paper and +handed it to the pages. They read the name and then advanced to the +middle of the hall. In high, clear voices they called out,—</p> + +<p>"Sir Wolfram von Eschenbach, begin!"</p> + +<p>There was a short pause while Sir Wolfram rose to his feet. Tannhäuser +sat, as if in a dream, leaning upon his harp. His eyes strayed through +the open doorway far across the peaceful valley to the dark and gloomy +mountain beyond. And though an inner voice whispered: "Turn away your +eyes, Sir Knight! 'Tis the abode of evil to which your thoughts are +wandering. Have a care, or magic power will rule you again!" he heeded +it not.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>But the eyes of Wolfram sought the pure face of the Princess on the +throne. His hands evoked a tender, rippling strain from the harp—and he +began to sing.</p> + +<p>He sang a quiet song of unselfish love, pure love, which doubts not and +trusts ever; which gives more than it seeks.</p> + +<p>He sang of a love, half sacrifice, wholly devotion—which asks nothing, +wants nothing, but gives, always gives. His song fell like a gentle +prayer upon the ears of his listeners.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" they cried, when he had finished. "You have done well, Sir +Wolfram. Bravo!"</p> + +<p>And they clapped their hands and nodded in approval, whispering and +smiling at one another. All but Tannhäuser. His face had changed. It had +become angry, impatient, defiant. This gentle strain that spoke of +endless devotion and sacrifice; was that love? No, no. He arose +abruptly. He seemed to be looking beyond the familiar hall and the +well-known faces, to some unseen vision of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> delight. An uncanny smile +played about his lips. He touched the harp strings, and they jangled +with strange harmonies. The people were startled, alarmed. They half +rose from their seats. Was it madness that inspired the knight? Ah! if +they but knew.</p> + +<p>Tannhäuser, heeding naught, lifted his voice and sang. And while he +sang, the spell of enchantment enmeshed him again. Rose-colored mists +swam before his eyes and blinded him. He heard the far-off strains of +music, he saw the dancing figures, and a siren voice urged him on. He +thought of endless pleasure, ceaseless delight. Again he forgot work, +thrice-blessed work. He forgot the ancient hall; he forgot the pure +presence of Elizabeth; he forgot his God. He sang a wicked song, an evil +song, a song of sinful pleasure, a song of Venus. He had vowed that he +would sing her praises forevermore. Now he would keep his word. His +voice soared high in a wild hymn of praise.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>"Would you know love?" he cried, flinging aside his harp and stretching +out his arms:</p> + +<p>"Fly to Venus. She can teach you!"</p> + +<p>His words struck the people like a thunder-bolt and left them stunned, +horrified. Suddenly, like a wave of anger, arose the tumult of cries.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Hear him! Oh! Most horrible! He has been in the Venusburg."</p> + +<p>The ladies hurried in consternation and affright from the hall. Only +Elizabeth stood, pale and trembling, leaning against the throne. All her +delight was turned to misery once more.</p> + +<p>The Landgrave, the minstrels, the nobles, gathered together and gazed +with horror upon Tannhäuser, who, oblivious of all save the evil vision, +gazed enraptured, straight ahead.</p> + +<p>The horror of the men soon gave way to indignation, the indignation in +turn to fury and hatred. As from one throat, a mighty shout went up,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>"Kill him!"</p> + +<p>And with one accord they drew their swords and pressed upon Tannhäuser +to slay him. But at that instant a white figure with trailing draperies +rushed toward them. She threw herself before Tannhäuser, shielding him +with her body. It was Elizabeth, the Princess.</p> + +<p>"Stop," she cried. "Stay your hands!"</p> + +<p>The men fell back in amazement as she fell upon her knees before them. +She, the proud Princess, most cruelly wronged, would she shield one who +had fallen so low?</p> + +<p>Yes, she would shield him, even with her life. He had sinned. Ah, how he +had sinned! But he had sinned against God, and God must be his judge. +Who were they to judge him and deny him the opportunity to repent? Would +they rob his soul of its eternal peace? Thus she pleaded and begged for +Tannhäuser's life, while tears rained down her white cheeks.</p> + +<p>The men were touched. Anger slowly gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> way to calm. One by one they +sheathed their swords and turned toward the Landgrave.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Tannhäuser, at the sound of Elizabeth's pleading voice, turned +his head. As though just awakened from an evil dream, he stared at her +kneeling figure, the drawn swords, the horror-stricken faces. Suddenly +he remembered all that he had said, all that he had done. The enormity +of his sin rushed upon him. He realized how he had outraged friendship, +love, religion, all that was holy, pure, and good. In fearful contrition +he fell upon the floor, sobbing and crying out in his misery and +distress. Where could he look for pardon now?</p> + +<p>Suddenly, through the open doorway, there came the sound of the song of +the pilgrim band on its way to Rome. It was a song of prayer and praise, +a song of repentance and confession, a song of peace with God. It +brought hope and a promise of comfort.</p> + +<p>Silence filled the great hall as the notes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> died away in the distance. +Only Elizabeth's face, white and pleading, was lifted toward the +Landgrave's in silent prayer.</p> + +<p>The Landgrave gazed at Tannhäuser's bent figure, and feelings of pity +mingled with the loathing he felt. Advancing solemnly toward Tannhäuser, +he bade him arise and join the band of pilgrims now on its way to Rome. +No other way was open to one who had sinned as he had sinned. And, if +after confession, he was pardoned for his grievous wrong, he might +return to the Wartburg. Otherwise they never wished to see him again.</p> + +<p>At these words Tannhäuser sprang to his feet. The echo of the pilgrim's +voice still lingered in the air. He listened a moment while a ray of +hope illumined his anguish-stricken face. Then with a cry "To Rome! To +Rome!" he hastened from the room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus187.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">TANNHÄUSER AT THE BIER OF ELIZABETH<br/> + +(After a painting by Von Kaulbach)</p> + + + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">III</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> road to Rome was rough and thorny, beset with hardship, fraught with +suffering. But Tannhäuser, full of new-found hope, wholly repentant, +longing for pardon, pushed eagerly onward. No pilgrim was of humbler +mien, nor was any of more contrite spirit. The thought of Elizabeth's +devotion and her prayers dispelled all his former pride of sin, and made +the hardships of the journey seem all too light for his remorseful soul. +When other pilgrims sought smooth pathways through meadow and valley, he +trod unshod amid rocks and thorns. When they refreshed their lips at +cool mountain springs, he continued hungry and thirsty on his way. Snow +and ice did not daunt him, nor the scorching rays of the sun, nor the +tempest's roar. He gave of his life blood freely and faltered not. The +other pilgrims found shelter and rest in hospices high up among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +mountains. He made his bed in the drifting snow, the ice, the cold. Lest +the beauty of Italy delight his eyes, he went blindfolded over its +vine-clad hills, through its blooming meadows. For his heart burned with +penitence, and his soul ached for pardon.</p> + +<p>Thus the weeks lengthened into months, and a long year went by. At last +the chime of bells was heard in the distance; the white towers of Rome +were outlined against the blue Italian sky.</p> + +<p>Weary and footsore, the pilgrims crept one by one to the holy shrine, +and, one by one, each was told that his sins would be forgiven and was +bidden to go rejoicing on his way and sin no more.</p> + +<p>Finally Tannhäuser's time came. With a cry of relief he prostrated +himself before the throne and confessed his awful sin, his wasted years, +his deep repentance. He had dwelt in an unholy place, he had been the +slave of sinful pleasure, he had blasphemed his God,—but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> awakening had +come at last. Was there pardon for such as he?</p> + +<p>The first solemn words of answer with their accents of horror brought +Tannhäuser to his feet in terror. As in a dream he listened. No. There +could be no pardon for such a sin. He was pronounced accursed +forevermore.</p> + +<p>The judgment continued:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"As this barren staff I hold</span><br /> +Ne'er will put forth a flower or a leaf<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus shalt thou never more behold</span><br /> +Salvation or thy sins relief."</td></tr></table> + +<p>Tannhäuser heard no more. Hopeless and despairing, he staggered wildly +from the room and away into the darkness. What mattered it which way he +wandered—now, since he was an outcast and accursed forever? Ah, to find +a path that would lead to forgetfulness!</p> + +<p>The pilgrims had already gone on their way homeward to Thuringia. From +out of the distance, their joyous song of praise fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> upon the air. +Tannhäuser took up his staff and followed in their wake, hopeless and +alone.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile throughout the long year the Princess Elizabeth had waited and +prayed day after day. And Sir Wolfram, watching her devotion from afar, +had grieved to see her body become weak with pain, and her face white +and drawn with sorrow and suffering.</p> + +<p>At last there came a day when, kneeling at her shrine on the forest +path, the sound of the pilgrims' return broke in upon her prayers.</p> + +<p>"They have come back!" she whispered as she rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>The song, the steady tramp of feet, grew louder and louder. On and on +came the pilgrims. And, singing of God's goodness and His divine grace, +they passed Elizabeth and Wolfram, one by one. But he for whom she had +prayed was not among them. He had not returned. He had not been +forgiven. Her prayers had been in vain. All her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> strength was gone. With +a last look at the valley lying peaceful, in the glow of early eventide, +and with a farewell glance at Sir Wolfram, she passed wearily upward +toward the castle.</p> + +<p>Night fell. The sky grew dark with clouds save where, over the Wartburg, +a single star hung. Suddenly, through the gloom, a dejected and footsore +wanderer made his way. It was Tannhäuser.</p> + +<p>As his eyes fell upon the familiar scene, and upon Sir Wolfram, in +knightly array, all his misery rushed upon him anew. Oh, if he could but +find the path that led to forgetfulness, the path of pleasure, the path +to Venus! In the days of his care-free youth, it had been but a step, +but now, laden with sin, weighted with the knowledge of evil, bowed with +repentance and suffering, his feet would not lead him there. With a loud +cry he stretched forth his arms and called,—</p> + +<p>"Venus, goddess, do you hear my call?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>Suddenly the roseate light, the same alluring sounds of music, the same +sweet odors, enthralled him again. Venus, reclining upon her couch, +appeared amid the rosy clouds.</p> + +<p>"Take me!" cried Tannhäuser, rushing forward to throw himself beside +her.</p> + +<p>At that moment, the slow and solemn chant of a funeral dirge sounded +from afar. Tannhäuser started. His arms fell by his side. He turned his +head. Down the path from the Wartburg, the Knights were bearing a bier. +Lighted torches were at the head, the foot. A bell was tolling. Voices +were singing in praise of Elizabeth, the beautiful Princess, who had +gone to join the angel band, the fairest angel of all the host.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Elizabeth!" exclaimed Tannhäuser. With a despairing cry, he +staggered toward the bier. Ah, yes, it was she, she who had prayed for +him, she who had loved him more than he knew. Better death beside her +than life in sin! Bending over Elizabeth's body,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> he sank slowly to the +ground, and God took him home.</p> + +<p>For it is said that not long afterward the barren staff of the head of +the church blossomed and put forth leaves of green. And thus the Lord in +His mercy forgave Tannhäuser, the sinner, and entered him into the +Kingdom of Heaven.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">Printed in the United States of America.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><span class="big">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</span></p> + +<p>In the Table of Contents, Page 155 has been changed to the correct page, 156.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the +original.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT OPERA STORIES***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 38654-h.txt or 38654-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/8/6/5/38654">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/6/5/38654</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Great Opera Stories + Taken from Original Sources in Old German + + +Author: Millicent Schwab Bender + + + +Release Date: January 23, 2012 [eBook #38654] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT OPERA STORIES*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 38654-h.htm or 38654-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38654/38654-h/38654-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38654/38654-h.zip) + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text in italics is surrounded by underscores (_italics_). + + + + + +[Illustration: THE MARKET PLACE IN NUREMBURG] + + +Everychild's Series + +GREAT OPERA STORIES + +Taken from Original Sources in Old German + +by + +MILLICENT S. BENDER + +Illustrated + + + + + + + +New York +The Macmillan Company +1935 + +All rights reserved + +COPYRIGHT, 1912, +By the Macmillan Company. + +Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1912. +Reprinted March, 1913; June, 1915; January, September, +1916; November, 1917 July, 1931; November, 1935. + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + CHILDREN OF KINGS 1 + + HAENSEL AND GRETEL 35 + + THE MASTER SINGERS 57 + + LOHENGRIN, THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN 101 + + THE FLYING DUTCHMAN 137 + + TANNHAEUSER, THE MINSTREL KNIGHT 156 + + + + +GREAT OPERA STORIES + +[Illustration] + + + + +CHILDREN OF KINGS + + +I + +Once upon a time, in a lonely glade between high mountains far, far +above the World of Men, there stood a hut. It was a miserable, +tumbledown, little hut, and the mosses of many summers clung to its +sloping roof. It had a bent stovepipe where its chimney should have +been, a slanting board in place of a doorstep, and just one, poor, +little, broken window. + +Yet it was not its forlorn appearance alone that made the hut hide +behind the shadows of the grim forest, far away from the sight of man. +It had more, much more than that to be ashamed of. For a hideous Witch +lived there,--and with her, a Goosegirl. + +They lived alone, those two,--the Goosegirl, with the joy of youth in +her heart; and the Witch, unmindful of joy or youth, thinking only of +magic and evil and hate. While the Goosegirl had been growing from +babyhood to girlhood, from girlhood to womanhood, dreaming and wondering +and wishing,--she knew not what,--the Witch had been trying to make her +as ugly and as wicked as herself. But try as she would, the heart of the +Goosegirl was so pure that evil could find no spot in it to lodge. As +for her face, each passing year left it lovelier than the last. The +sunshine was no brighter than her yellow hair, the sky no bluer than her +clear blue eyes. The lone lily before the hut envied the whiteness of +her skin, and the birch tree in the woods, the slenderness of her form. + +Now it chanced upon a sunny afternoon in summer that the Goosegirl lay +on her back in the long grass before the hut. Now and then she tossed a +handful of corn to her quacking geese or played with a wreath of wild +daisies. But her thoughts were far away. Her eyes were full of the +wonder of things,--of the sun that shone, the brook that laughed, the +flowers that bloomed, the birds that sang, and the blue sky over all. +And her dreams were full of the World of Men, which she had never seen +and to which she longed to go. Something within her whispered that +happiness was to be found there, and the Goosegirl desired happiness +above all things. And she desired kindness and love, too, although she +had never heard of them, and did not know what they were. + +As far back as she could remember, ever since she was a tiny little +child, the Goosegirl had lived in the wretched hut. And the hideous +Witch had been her only companion. The Goosegirl wondered whether all +the people in the World of Men had such gruesome bodies, such ugly +faces, such evil ways, as the Witch. She had never seen any one else, so +she could not tell. For fear of the Witch no one had ever come that way. +Winter and summer, summer and winter, it had always been the same. + +The Goosegirl's dreams were suddenly interrupted by the hoarse voice of +the Witch. + +"Where are you, good-for-naught?" came from the doorway. "Idle, I'll be +bound, when there's work to be done!" + +The Goosegirl turned her eyes toward the figure of the Witch, and, +familiar as it was, for the thousandth time she shuddered with disgust. +The crooked back, the burning eyes peering out from under the tangled +hair, the rags, the ugliness,--oh, must she always stay? She arose +slowly and walked toward the door. With hands outstretched she begged +the hideous creature to set her free and to let her go down to the World +of Men to seek for happiness. + +"I will never become a Witch," she implored. "Oh, please let me go." + +The Witch's crooked mouth widened into a horrible smile. One yellow +tooth stuck out. + +"Not make a Witch of you, indeed! Wait and see! I'll bend your proud +back!" Then brandishing her cane, she muttered savagely: + +"Get to work. There's bread to knead!" + +The frightened Goosegirl ran for bowl and flour, and set to work. +Meanwhile the Witch took out some dark powders. She mumbled strange +words over them, and while the Goosegirl, with busy hands but unseeing +eyes, kneaded and kneaded and kneaded, the Witch poured the powders into +the dough. Poor Goosegirl! Her bread was soon finished, but it was a +foul-smelling bread, and it contained enough poison to kill a dozen men. + +Soon afterward the Witch, chuckling fiendishly, took up her basket and +hobbled away to the grim forest. But the Goosegirl, full of horror for +the deed she had been made to do, sat motionless, staring straight +ahead. Would her life never, never change? With a sigh she called to her +geese and wandered back to her place in the grass. Ah, that there should +be so much evil in such a beautiful world! She looked at the dancing +shadows of the fluttering leaves. They were beautiful. There was beauty +in the thin, blue line of smoke as it climbed lazily upward from the +broken chimney. Two turtledoves cooed above her head. The sunlight +shimmered upon the wings of the buzzing bumblebees and made them shine +like gold. All, all was beautiful. Were people the only ugly things? The +Goosegirl gazed toward the World of Men far, far below, and wondered. + +Presently her fingers, wandering idly over the grass, found the wreath +of daisies. Idly she placed it upon her head. + +"Look at me, geese!" she cried. "Look at me! Am I ugly, too?" + +With the geese at her heels, she ran swiftly toward the pool and peered +earnestly into its clear depths. Her hair hung in long golden strands on +each side of her face, her eyes shone like stars, her cheeks were +flushed. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed happily. "I am beautiful! Geese dear, I am +beautiful, very beautiful!" And she gazed and gazed again. + +Suddenly a song broke the silence. The Goosegirl started. For it was a +song of youth and joy, the like of which she had never heard before in +all her life. + +Then, down from the mountains, out of the woods, straight to that lonely +glade, came a youth, a ragged youth, but a noble youth, with a sword at +his side, a bundle on his back, and a smile on his lips. His bearing was +so proud, he looked so straight ahead, with eyes both fearless and true, +that the Goosegirl held her breath as he halted before her. + +"Hey, pretty Queen of the Geese," he said. "How goes the world with you? +Have you no greeting for me?" + +The Goosegirl continued to stare, saying nothing, her eyes wide with +wonder. Finally she found her voice, and in a whisper just loud enough +for him to hear, ventured timidly: + +"Are you a man?" + +"From top to toe!" exclaimed the youth, and laughed. How he laughed! He +threw back his head, his white teeth gleamed, and the distant hills rang +with the joyous sound. Even the Goosegirl was forced to smile at her own +ignorance. + +Such merriment soon made them the best of friends, and before long, +seated side by side in the grass, the youth told the Goosegirl whence he +had come and whither he was roving. + +A King's Son was he, of noble name and fortune. High up among the +mountains stood his father's castle, and there, amid the luxuries of the +court, he had been reared. But when he had grown old enough to wander, +the luxury had palled, the court life had fettered his free spirit. "Up +and away!" cried a summons from within his heart. And so, while no one +watched, he had stolen forth, with naught but a sword by his side, a +bundle on his back, and a song on his lips. And he had wandered over +the mountains, through the valleys, up and down, in and out, in search +of adventure. + +The Goosegirl heard the marvelous tale to the end. Then in faltering +tones, but with shining eyes, she said slowly: + +"Oh, that I might go with you!" + +The youth smiled scornfully. + +"King's Son and beggar maid!" exclaimed he, shaking his head. But as he +looked into her face he stopped short. + +The nobility of her expression, her simple beauty, drew him nearer. Ah! +this was no beggar maid. There was something regal in the pose of that +golden head, the glance of those clear blue eyes. What a companion she +would make for now and forevermore! He forgot the rags, he forgot the +geese, he forgot the hut. + +"Have you courage?" he asked, gazing at her searchingly. + +In answer she placed her hand in his. So he took off her wreath of +white daisies and placed it within his jacket, close to his heart. And +he opened his bundle and drew forth a golden crown, which he placed upon +her head. Then crying: + +"Up and away!" he led her to the edge of the grim wood. + +At that instant, however, the sky began to darken with rushing clouds. +Broad flashes of lightning blazed forth, thunder rolled, and the wind +blew furiously through the trees. The geese flapped their wings in +terror and gathered about the Goosegirl. She stood still, staring before +her in fear. She was turned to stone. She could not move. Her feet were +fixed to the ground. + +"What makes you stand so still and stare?" cried the King's Son. + +"Oh, I am afraid!" answered the Goosegirl. "I cannot go! I am +bewitched!" + +"Fear is but shame," declared the King's Son, angrily. "You have lied to +me. You are not fit to wander with a King's Son. You are only a beggar +maid, after all." + +Then, overpowered by his wrath, he made ready to go, adding: + +"Farewell. You shall never see me any more. No, never again, unless a +star from heaven falls into the lily yonder." And pointing to the lone +lily by the door of the hut, he rushed into the grim forest and was lost +to sight. + + +II + +The Goosegirl, saddened, disheartened, hid her golden crown and dragged +herself wearily into the hut. The hideous Witch, returning with her +venomous load, soon followed. And evening came. All was still. But for +the thin column of smoke rising from the stovepipe one would not have +known that any life was there. + +Just as the golden edge of the moon peeped over the eastern mountain a +loud song burst upon the air. And a moment later a Fiddler, clad in +leather jacket and boots, appeared, emerging from the grim wood. He +strode forth boldly as befitted an honest man who had nothing to fear. +Seeing the miserable, tumbledown hut with its smoking chimney, he +stopped. + +"Ah, ha!" cried he. "Here's the journey's end." Then, looking back into +the woods and waving his cap, he shouted at the top of his voice: + +"Come on, Master Wood-cutter. Come on, Master Broom-maker. Here's the +Witch's den. Come on!" + +And Master Wood-cutter and Master Broom-maker came on. But how they +came! They slunk out of the woods in fear and trembling, teeth +chattering, knees shaking, eyes bulging. They took but one look at the +tumbledown hut and then made for the nearest tree, behind which they +cowered, shivering from head to toe. + +"Not so loud! Not so loud! Master Fiddler, please. She may hear you," +they protested. + +"Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!" laughed the Fiddler. "Don't you want her to hear +you? What did you come for, then, pray tell me?" + +And so he half dragged, half pushed, the two cowardly braggarts toward +the Witch's door. + +"You may knock first," said the polite Broom-maker through his +chattering teeth to the Wood-cutter. + +"No, indeed. You may have the honor," responded the Wood-cutter, and his +knees knocked together as he bowed. + +Since there was no way out of it, the Broom-maker moved toward the door. +He tapped once with the knuckle of his forefinger, gently, like a little +mouse. Then in a wee, small voice, he said: + +"Good wife, won't you buy a broom?" + +No answer came from within the hut. + +Emboldened by the silence, Master Wood-cutter joined his comrade at the +door of the hut. Then he, too, rapped a little bit, just like a penny +hammer. + +"Most honored wise-woman!" he whispered. + +But no answer came. All was as still as before. + +"There's no one at home," said both at once. And they strutted boldly to +and fro, grinning from ear to ear. + +"Stand aside!" said the Fiddler. + +He pushed them away and strode toward the door. With his clenched fist +he banged once, twice, thrice. And he lifted his voice. My, what a voice +it was! The very woods rang with the sound of it. + +"Witch! Hag! Foul woman!" he shouted. "Open the door!" + +There was a moment's silence. But presently the door creaked on its +rusty hinges, and there stood the Witch, in all her ugliness, leaning +upon a cane. + +The Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker gave her one glance and then, +stricken with terror, they fled as fast as their legs could carry them +to the first tree. There they waited, trembling and quaking, to see what +the dread creature would do. They would not venture out, no, not they. +They had wives and children to care for, and it was no business for men +of their kind. No, indeed! + +Meanwhile the Witch was croaking in her awful voice: + +"Who comes here to my hut in the woods? Hey, fellows, what do you want?" + +"What do I want?" mocked the Fiddler, who had bravely stood his ground. +Looking at her calmly, he dropped on one knee, with a comical smile: + +"Ah, fair dame, those red, red eyes and that one yellow tooth of yours +have made me sick with love and longing. Listen to my suit, I pray." + +The Witch looked at him in surprise as he rose to his feet. Could it be +that he was not afraid of her? He looked her straight in the eyes, +fearless and brave. So she scowled. He smiled. She shook her cane. He +laughed. Well! Well! Her magic was powerless against a man like that. +Let him tell his tale and be gone. + +So it came to pass that the Fiddler called the Wood-cutter and the +Broom-maker and bade them state their business. But they bobbed and +scraped and hemmed and hawed and chattered and giggled so long that the +Fiddler had to come to the rescue. + +The King of the World of Men had died, and since the King's Son had run +away and could not be found, there was no one to rule the town of +Hellabrun. So the people had sent the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker to +ask the Wise-Witch what was to be done. They wanted a ruler straightway +and did not know where to find one. + +The Witch pondered long, frowning savagely. Then she told the +Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker to go back and tell the people that the +first person who knocked at the town gate at noon on the morrow would be +worthy to wear the crown. + +Pleased with this prophecy the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker hurried +away through the grim forest toward the town of Hellabrun in the World +of Men. + +But the Fiddler did not go. He had caught a glimpse of a golden head and +a pair of blue eyes at the window; and the sight of one so fair in such +a hut told him that there was work for him to do here. + +"Why do you stay?" snarled the Witch. The Fiddler gave her a sharp +glance. + +"I'm setting a snare for the little golden bird that you keep in the +hut." + +The Witch started. She clenched her fist wrathfully, but her eyes fell +before his steady glance. + +"Let out the golden bird," sang the Fiddler, cheerily, "or I will go in, +I will go in." + +The Witch looked this way and that. She could not meet his eyes. +Muttering savagely, she hobbled toward the door. A moment later she +dragged forth the trembling Goosegirl. + +The Fiddler was amazed. Such beauty! Such pride! She was fit to sit upon +a throne! + +"Who are you, maiden?" he asked. "And how came you here?" + +Slowly and sadly the words fell from the Goosegirl's lips. She knew not +who she was. The Witch had told her to call her "Grandmother." More than +that she could not say. + +The Fiddler's eyes traveled from the Goosegirl to the hideous Witch and +back again. This fair maid kin to that foul creature! No, no, it was not +possible. + +As if divining his thought, the Witch wagged her head maliciously and +sneered: + +"No, she is no kin of mine. But worse, far worse. You may know all. A +hangman's daughter is she; that's it, a hangman's daughter." + +"It is not true," shouted the Fiddler. Then turning to the weeping +Goosegirl, he cried: + +"Believe her not. Look at your hands, girl, your white, white hands, and +your hair, your golden hair. There's nobility in your face. Believe in +yourself, and you will sit beside the King's Son on a throne. Be not +afraid. Pray, girl, pray!" + +The Goosegirl fell upon her knees and lifted her eyes to heaven. Her +voice rose from the depths of her being and cried out to the mother and +father whom she had never seen. Her golden hair covered her like a +mantle, her face was radiant. Still kneeling, she held her crown of gold +toward heaven and prayed to God for help, for guidance, for strength. +And as she prayed, a shining star shot from heaven, downward, downward, +straight into the lone lily by the door of the hut. + +The Goosegirl uttered a cry of joy. Putting the crown upon her head, she +arose, exclaiming: + +"I'm free! I'm free! I'm free!" + +Then, followed by her geese and the Fiddler, she rushed into the grim +wood toward the World of Men. + + +III + +When morning dawned and the grim wood with all its terrors lay behind +the King's Son, he came at last to the town of Hellabrun in the World of +Men. Weary and footsore, faint from hunger and thirst, yet dauntless +still, he stopped before an inn near the town gate and begged for work. + +"I would earn an honest penny," he said, "to buy my daily bread. Have +you any work for me?" + +The innkeeper, who was a rough, ill-natured fellow, smiled with contempt +as he looked upon the white hands and noble face of the youth before +him. So he declared gruffly: + +"All I need is a swineherd!" + +"A swineherd!" The voice of the King's Son echoed the loathsome word, +while a look of disgust overspread his face. But only for a moment; +then, quick as thought, came the vision of the Goosegirl, so sweet and +fair despite her humble calling. "All work is noble to those that are of +noble mind," thought he. His hand stole to his heart and touched the +wreath of white daisies there. + +"I will be your swineherd," he answered sturdily. + +Then he seated himself beneath a tree to await the orders of the +innkeeper. + +Now it happened to be a day of great excitement in Hellabrun, and as the +morning wore away, a chattering, restless crowd of people--men, women, +and even little children--assembled in the market place. With eager eyes +they scanned the two soldiers who, armed with long spears, stood on +guard before the closed and barred town gate. + +There were lean men and fat men; men in rich clothes and men in rags. +There were tinkers and tailors, soldiers and sailors, and their wives +and their sweethearts. Here were wise doctors in black gowns, there +gray-bearded counselors leaning upon canes. Wee babes in arms crowed and +laughed, boys romped, girls danced. And all awaited the noontide hour +and the coming of their King. + +"Will he ride upon a snow-white charger?" asked one. + +"Nay, he will be carried aloft, seated upon a golden throne," replied +another. + +"His robes will be of richest velvet," said a third. + +"And a jeweled crown will be upon his head," said a fourth. + +"Perhaps a beautiful queen with ropes of pearls about her neck will sit +upon the throne at his side," ventured a fifth. + +"Tell us again what the Wise-Witch promised," called one from the crowd +to the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker, who were strutting proudly to +and fro. + +Nothing loath, Master Broom-maker and Master Wood-cutter pushed their +way to the front of the admiring crowd. Then they stood with heads high, +chests stuck out, feet wide apart and arms waving, and told their story +for the fiftieth time. And since with each telling the story had grown +and grown, it was a marvelous tale, indeed. + +They told of the grim forest and the many dangers through which they had +passed before they arrived at the Witch's den. + +"The woods were full of lions and tigers," said the Wood-cutter. + +"But I felled every one with one mighty blow of my broom," said the +Broom-maker. + +"And an ogre with fiery eyes sat behind each tree; and a dragon snorting +steam held guard before the den of the Witch. But we feared them not. We +slew them all. We went so boldly forward that the Witch quaked and hid +herself in fear when she saw us coming." + +"'Tis not truth that you speak," cried out a young voice, and the crowd +fell back amazed at the sight of the King's Son. Who was this ragged +fellow who dared to interrupt the thrilling story? Down with him! And +they beat him with their sticks and pelted him with stones and called +him names. But just as they were about to drive him from the market +place the town clock struck the hour. + +A sudden hush fell upon the crowd. The people stood still. With eager, +expectant faces turned toward the gate they waited, while the bell +pealed forth its twelve long notes. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! + +It was noon! + +The guards pulled out the long bolts. An excited murmur came from the +crowd. Then all was still, as still as before. The guards turned the +huge knobs. The door swung on its hinges, and there stood--a Goosegirl +and her flock of geese. Her feet were bare. Her dress was tattered and +torn. But her shining hair covered her like a mantle, and a golden +crown was upon her head. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes, glowing as from +an inner light, sought among the sea of faces, and found that of the +King's Son alone. Then, with arms outstretched, she walked slowly toward +him, crying softly: + +"I have come to be your Queen." + +Queen! The breathless crowd stared in amazement one moment longer. Then +the amazement gave way to laughter, the laughter to anger, the anger to +fury. + +"Ha-ha-ha! This is no queen!" they shouted angrily. "We have been +fooled. This is only a Goosegirl. Strike her! Beat her!" + +The King's Son enfolded the Goosegirl in his arms. + +"Stop!" he cried to the mob. "I am a King's Son, and she is my Queen." + +"Listen to the ragged fellow!" shouted the people. "He says he is a +King's Son! Ha-ha-ha! Stone them! Hit them! A Swineherd! A Goosegirl! +Drive them out! Out! Out!" + +And so the King's Son and the Goosegirl were driven away from the town +of Hellabrun, and the angry people returned in disappointment to their +homes. Only one little pure-hearted girl lingered at the town gate and +gazed with eyes of faith after the fleeing pair. When she could see them +no longer, she fell upon the ground and wept and wept. + +"Why do you cry, little girl?" she was asked. + +"Oh, that was the King," she sobbed--"the King and his bride." + + +IV + +During all the long summer days the King's Son and the Goosegirl +wandered over hill and dale, through field and forest, far away from the +World of Men. And the King's Son shielded the Goosegirl with his love +and brought her berries to eat and the skins of wild animals to rest +upon, and was gentle, oh, very gentle! And the Goosegirl made the King's +Son glad with the sight of her beauty and the sound of her light-hearted +laughter. And they were happy with a happiness that surpassed all that +they had ever felt or dreamed. + +But then autumn came. The wind moaned piteously through the trees, +driving brown leaves in whirling gusts before their eyes. Winter +followed, covering the grim woods with a mantle of shining white. Their +clothes were thin. Their feet were bare, and it was cold--bitter, bitter +cold. So they wandered on and on, day after day, until at last, faint +with hunger, sick with despair, they came, all unknowingly, to the +lonely glade between the high mountains where the Witch's hut stood. + +The hideous Witch was no longer there. Because they believed she had +prophesied falsely, the infuriated people of Hellabrun had burned her at +the stake. Only the Broom-maker and the Wood-cutter were in the +miserable tumble-down hut; while out in the grim forest were the Fiddler +and the one pure-hearted little girl, seeking, ever seeking, with eyes +of faith for the rightful King and Queen. + +With steps that faltered, and eyes half closed, the King's Son and the +Goosegirl crept into the glade. Tottering feebly, hand in hand, they +approached the door of the hut, and knocking, begged for shelter, for +food, for drink. + +The face of the Wood-cutter appeared at the window for a brief moment. +Blinded by his distrust, he saw only two beggar children before the +door. + +"Away with you! We have naught to give," he shouted as he slammed the +broken shutter. + +Hopelessly, sadly, the King's Son bore the Goosegirl to the snow-covered +mound beneath the linden tree. Whither could he turn to get his loved +one food? Ah, foolish, foolish King's Son who would not rule, who could +not beg! + +The Goosegirl, clinging to him tenderly, felt his despair, saw his eyes +fill with tears. Crying out that she was not ill, but was well and +strong, she rose to her feet. To cheer him, she tripped lightly to and +fro, singing a gay little song. Faster and faster twinkled her little +feet, brighter and brighter grew her smiles. But weaker and weaker +became her voice, paler and paler her face, until she fell, fainting, +into the snow. + +Then the King's Son rushed to her and took her in his arms. He wrapped +his cloak about her and carried her back to the mound. She opened her +eyes and smiled. + +"King! My King!" she whispered. + +Like a flash the King's Son remembered his crown. He opened the bundle +and took it out. + +"Do not sell your crown, O King!" murmured the Goosegirl. + +"I will! I must!" replied the King's Son. "It will bring you bread." + +He arose hastily, broke the shining crown into pieces, and ran toward +the hut. + +Rap! Rap! Rap! "Let me in!" he cried impatiently. + +"Do you want to break down the door?" replied the Broom-maker, appearing +at the window. + +"I care not," answered the King's Son. "Here is gold. Now will you give +me bread?" + +Gold? The greedy eyes of the Broom-maker gave the glittering fragments +one glance. Then he called the Wood-cutter. And they whispered, and they +searched all through the miserable hut until they found the poisoned +bread, the foul-smelling bread, which the Goosegirl had made as the +Witch had directed on that bright summer day long, long ago. + +With it in their hands they ran to the window. They handed it to the +King's Son, and he gave them gold, his golden crown, in its stead. + +The King's Son snatched the loaf and ran joyfully toward the mound and +fell at the Goosegirl's feet, crying: + +"I'm bringing bread, dear one! bread! Take it! Eat it!" + +"Not I alone," answered the Goosegirl. "You, too." + +So they broke the bread in two, and, laughing happily, they ate it +eagerly. They ate it all to its bitter, bitter end. Then, clasped in +each other's arms, they lay down to sleep and dreamed of rosy clouds of +glory wafting them toward sunny lands of everlasting bliss; and +dreaming, slept and--knew no more. And the snowflakes fell softly, +silently, and covered them with a shining robe of fleeciest white. + +A little later, the Fiddler and the little pure-hearted girl, followed +by a troop of children, entered the glade, all seeking, still seeking +with eyes of faith, for the rightful King and Queen. As they approached +the snow-covered mound the snow suddenly ceased falling; and the sunset +glow from the west shone down and revealed the Kingly Children asleep +forevermore. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +HAENSEL AND GRETEL + + +I + +Long ago, in half-forgotten days, a little hut stood at the edge of a +great forest. It was rather a meek, shamefaced little hut, for the +forest was great and beautiful, and the hut was small and ugly. Still, +it had a glowing fireplace inside, and a brick chimney on top, and it +was somebody's home, which--after all--is the principal thing. + +A broom-maker named Peter lived there with his wife Gertrude and their +two children, Haensel and Gretel. The broom-maker was poor, oh, very, +very poor, and that is why his home was not beautiful to see. But he was +an honest, upright man who loved his family, and had he been able, I am +sure, he would have housed them in a marble palace. Unfortunately, +however, the broom-making business had been unusually poor that year. + +Indeed, on the very day that our story begins, Peter and his wife were +both away from home in quest of work, and only Haensel and Gretel were +to be seen inside the hut. + +Lest you should not know, it might be well to mention that Haensel was +the boy. He was busily engaged--or, at least, he was supposed to be--in +making brooms, while Gretel, the girl, had her knitting in hand. But it +was extremely difficult to keep their thoughts or their eyes, either, +upon such stupid work. Each breeze that blew in through the open window +brought an invitation from the fascinatingly sunlit grassy spot before +the door. Even the trees in the forest beyond beckoned to them with +their tall branches. + +Besides, there was another cause for rebellion on that particular +afternoon. To tell the truth, the children were hungry. Moreover, since +there seemed to be absolutely nothing in the house to eat, it was quite +likely that they would remain hungry, which was the worst part of all. + +Haensel, after the manner of boys, threw his work into the farthest +corner of the room and fairly shouted: + +"I just wish Mother would come home! I'm hungry, that's what I am. For a +week I've eaten nothing but bread, and little of that. Oh, Gret, it +would be such a treat if we had something good to eat!" + +Now Gretel, as it happened, was every bit as hungry as he, but, after +the manner of girls, she sought to comfort him. + +"Don't be an old crosspatch," she said. "If you'll stop complaining, +I'll tell you a secret. But you must smile first!" + +Haensel smiled. + +She went on: + +"Do you see that jug over there on the table? Well--it's full of milk. +Somebody left it here. And if you're good, Mother will stew rice in it +when she comes home." + +Haensel had heard such stories before. + +"Don't believe it," said he. "It's too good to be true." + +Nevertheless he went to see. And when his eyes assured him that what was +in the jug really looked like milk, he was overcome with the temptation +to find out whether it tasted like milk, also. First he gave a sly +glance at Gretel and then down went his forefinger into the jug! + +"Haensel! aren't you ashamed, you greedy boy? Out with your finger!" For +Gretel had caught him in the act. + +"Get back to your work in a hurry, for you know if Mother comes before +we've finished, there'll be trouble." + +Haensel, however, was not inclined toward work that afternoon. In fact, +he was in a very rebellious mood, altogether. + +"Don't let's work," suggested he. "Let's dance." + +Now you must remember that Gretel was only a little girl with twinkling +feet that loved to dance and a merry voice that loved to sing. So do not +judge her too harshly, even though she quickly dropped her tiresome +knitting. + +Their wooden shoes--for they were the style in those days--clattered +over the board floor; they clapped their hands, their childish voices +rang out, and they had, all in all, a most beautiful time. They forgot +their empty stomachs; they forgot their aching fingers. Gretel, who was +clever in such things, taught Haensel some new steps. And he, less +awkward than usual, learned them so quickly that Gretel praised him for +his aptness. Her words made him as proud as a peacock. He seized her +hands in both of his own. Round and round they whirled, faster and +faster, until suddenly, losing their balance, they fell, laughing +loudly, in one heap on the floor. + +And then--the door opened. + +"Gracious goodness!" they cried. "It's Mother!" And up they jumped in +double-quick time. + +Yes, it was Mother, and an angry Mother at that. + +"What does this mean?" she exclaimed, "all the noise and clatter? Where +is your work, you good-for-nothing children?" + +The children, half penitent, wholly frightened, looked at each other. +Haensel blamed Gretel, Gretel blamed Haensel. + +The Mother blamed them both. She scolded, she raged, she brandished a +stick, and I confess I am afraid to think of what her anger might have +led her to do next. But just at that moment, in her excitement, she gave +the milk jug a push, and down it went, breaking into a thousand pieces, +with the precious milk running in little streams all over the floor. +That was the last straw! What was there left to be cooked for supper? + +The furious woman snatched a basket from a nail on the wall. She thrust +it into Gretel's hand. + +"Off with you both to the wood!" she cried. "And hurry up, too! Pick +strawberries for supper! If the basket isn't full, you'll get a +whipping. Yes, that's what you'll get." She shook her fist to make the +admonition more impressive. + +Scarcely had they gone, however, when the woman, completely exhausted, +sat down by the table and began to weep and moan. You see, she was +really not an ill-natured woman at all. Poverty had embittered her, and +the mere thought that her children might be starving, caused her to lose +entire control of her feelings. It had been a long, wearisome, and +disappointing day, and now, even at its end, her own irritability had +caused another calamity. Angry with herself, the world, and everything, +she rested her head on her arms and sobbed herself to sleep. + +Do you know the old verse, "It is always darkest just before dawn"? Now, +if the mother had been patient only a little longer, all would have +been well. But then there would have been no story to tell. + +The mother was still sleeping when the father came home. He was singing +joyfully, and he awoke her with a kiss. + +"See," he cried happily, "my brooms are all sold. There was a festival +in the town to-day, and every one must needs be clean. Such a sweeping +and a dusting and a cleaning! I drove a roaring trade, I tell you. So, +here's butter and eggs and ham and sausage. And tea, too. Hurry up, good +wife, and get supper ready!" + +The mother packed away the things. She lighted the fire. She hustled and +bustled about. Suddenly the father, missing the children, inquired: + +"Where are Haensel and Gretel?" He went to the door to call. + +"Don't call," answered the mother. "They were naughty, and I sent them +to the woods in disgrace." + +"The woods!" exclaimed the father, and his voice was full of horror. + +"It is growing dark," he said, "and my children are in those gloomy +woods without stars or moon to guide them! Don't you know that there is +enchantment in those woods? Don't you know that the Witch walks there?" +His voice sank to a whisper. + +"Which witch?" asked the woman, thoroughly alarmed. + +"The Crust Witch, the gobbling Witch! She who rides on a broomstick at +the midnight hour, when no one is abroad, over hill and vale, over moor +and dale!" + +"Oh! Oh! Oh! but what does she gobble?" + +"Have you never heard? All day long, she stalks around, with a +crinching, crunching, munching sound and lures little children with +gingerbread sweet. She lures little children, the poor little things, +into her oven, all red-hot; then she shuts the lid down, pop, +pop!--until they're done brown." + +"Oh, horror!" cried the mother, wringing her hands. "Oh, what shall we +do?" + +"Go seek them!" said the father. + +And in another moment without hats, shawl, anything, they had run out of +the hut. + + +II + +The sunset glow lighted the forest. It bathed the stately trees in rose +and gold. It shone on the cool carpet of leaves and wild flowers, and +played with the garlands of bright-colored vines. + +But the purple mist of twilight that hung over the distant fir-colored +hill sent gray shadows down. They crept behind the hedges and bushes, +warning the birds, the bees, and the flowers that night was drawing +nigh. + +One lingering ray of sunshine lit the mossy rock upon which Gretel sat. +She was weaving a wreath of wild flowers and singing a little song, +while Haensel ran hither and thither, filling his basket with red +strawberries. + +So, if you have imagined that they were at all unhappy, you see you were +quite mistaken. Indeed, they were entirely, wonderfully, breathlessly +happy. I doubt if they gave their mother's scolding a single thought. As +for their home, they had quite forgotten all about it, which, for aught +I know, may have been part of the enchantment. At any rate, they had +never had a better time. + +When Haensel's basket was full, Gretel's wreath was finished. So they +played at being king and queen of the wood, and Gretel wore the wreath, +and Haensel knelt in homage before her, presenting her with the basket +of berries. Whereupon, as a reward, she gave him some of the ripest ones +to taste. Soon tiring of this they went on to another game. A cuckoo +called from a tree near by, and they imitated his call, seeking each +other behind tall tree trunks. But saddest of all to tell, they ate the +strawberries while they played--yes, every single one. + +When they attempted to find fresh ones, they discovered that it had +grown too dark. There were black shadows under the hedges and bushes +now. A gray blanket of clouds was spread over the sky. + +Then fear came. For they could not find their way. Gretel saw strange +figures glimmering behind the birches. She saw strange faces grinning at +her from every mossy tree stump. Now it was Haensel who sought to +comfort her. A mist arose and shut them in. Advancing dimly through it, +they spied a lantern. Haensel said it was a will-o'-the-wisp. They heard +a call. He said it was the echo. + +When Gretel began to whimper and cry, Haensel held her fast in his arms. +But the shadows of strange things continued to nod and beckon. One +shadow grew and grew and grew. It moved toward them, and both children +cowered down in fear. Their eyes never left it. + +Suddenly the shadow took shape, and there stood an odd little gray man. +He had a long white beard. He leaned on a staff, and he carried a sack +on his back. Strange to say, the moment that the children saw his calm +smile and his friendly gestures they were not afraid any more. He came +toward them, chanting a quiet song about restful sleep and happy dreams. +Before they knew what he was about, he had sprinkled sand into their +tired eyes. Then Haensel and Gretel folded their hands and sleepily +whispered their evening prayer. With their arms about each other's necks +they sank slowly into the soft moss and soon were fast asleep. + +The little man disappeared as he had come, into the mist. But the mist +became roseate. It rolled itself into a fleecy cloud, which mounted +higher and higher until it touched the sky. What magic was this? It +changed again into a marvelous golden stairway! And down the stairway +floated beautiful guardian angels with dazzling wings and golden wands. +They grouped themselves about the sleeping children, at their heads, at +their feet, all about them. Waving their golden wands, they sent down +showers of wonderful dreams. Oh, such gleaming, glistening, unutterable +dreams! + + +III + +Scarcely had the sun peeped over the eastern horizon than the Dew Fairy +came fluttering into the woodland. Her wings were tinged with the first +blush of dawn and her garments were tipped with rosy light. She carried +armfuls of bluebells, and as she flitted lightly about, sweet music +rippled on the air. How she smiled when she saw Haensel and Gretel +asleep under the tall fir tree! + +"Up, ye sleepers! Awake! Awake!" she sang. Then, sprinkling dew from the +bluebells into their eyes, she vanished into the sunlit air. + +Gretel rubbed her eyes sleepily and raised herself from the moss. Was +she still in the beautiful greenwood? Ah, yes, she must be there. For +birds were merrily chirping overhead. There were glimpses of bright blue +sky between the leaf-laden branches. + +"Wake up, lazy bones!" she called to Haensel. + +He jumped up with a start, stretched himself, yawned once or twice, +looked about. Oh, the wonderful, wonderful forest! + +The sun had mounted higher in the sky. The woods were filled with a +mellow radiance. The morning mists had cleared away. And, most +astonishing of all, on the very hill so lately hidden by dark trees and +fleecy clouds, they beheld a most entrancing sight. + +A house stood there. But such a house! It was as beautiful--as +beautiful,--in short, I am afraid to tell you how undescribably +beautiful it was. The walls were of sweetest sugar candy, glistening +like diamonds in the sun; the roof was of chocolate cake, all soft and +creamy; and the gables were ornamented with raisins, like little eyes. +On one side there was a strange-looking cage; on the other, a huge, +strange-looking oven; and both were joined to the house by a fence made +of the daintiest gingerbread figures imaginable. + +"Oh," cried Haensel, "did you ever see anything so wonderful?" + +"No, I never did," answered Gretel. "A princess must live in that." + +They stared and stared, while their mouths watered and their fingers +itched prodigiously. + +Haensel wished to go boldly inside, but the mere thought of doing +anything so rash frightened Gretel. + +"Well, the angels led us here," reflected Haensel. + +"Ye-es, that's true, they did," conceded Gretel. + +"Come on. Let's just nibble a little bit," tempted Haensel. + +And so, hand in hand, they hopped along, like two little mice, toward +the magic house. Then they stole cautiously forward on tiptoe, until, +at length, they were within reaching distance. Haensel's hand went out. +He broke off a bit. + +Quick as lightning came a squeaking voice from the inside: + + "Nibble, nibble, mousekin, + Who's nibbling at my housekin?" + +Haensel started back in fear. + +"'Twas only the wind," said Gretel. "Let's taste it." + +They did. Since it tasted better than anything they had ever eaten +before, they feasted merrily for a while, never heeding the voice of the +Witch or her ugly form, either, which, a little later, appeared at the +door. I have no doubt that they would be feasting yet, if the Witch had +not then and there stealthily stolen upon them. With a deft movement she +threw a rope about Haensel's neck and held him fast. + +The children's delight turned to terror. For she was a loathsome sight +to see. Bent, toothless, with unkempt hair and clawlike hands, she +looked the picture of a Witch indeed. + +In spite of her appearance, however, she spoke to them in a very kindly +manner. She called them pretty names, told them that they were nice and +plump, and that they would make excellent gingerbread. She even caressed +Haensel, which made him very angry. Wriggling and squirming, he managed +to loosen the rope and seizing Gretel by the hand, ran--alas! only a +short distance. For the Witch, holding aloft a juniper branch, circled +it in the air, repeating these strange words: + + "Hocus, pocus, witch's charm, + Move not, as you fear my arm!" + +The children stood stock-still. They were stiff from head to toe. +Fortunately, by this time they had undergone so many strange adventures +that they had learned fairly well how to conduct themselves. + +"Watch carefully all she does!" whispered Haensel, as the Witch led him +away to the cage and gave him nuts and raisins to fatten him. + +"I will," said Gretel. + +Therefore, when, a few moments later, the Witch disenchanted her in +order that she might prepare the table, Gretel listened attentively to +the words: + + "Hocus, pocus, elder bush, + Rigid body, loosen hush!" + +No sooner had Gretel run into the house than the Witch was seized with a +fit of wild joy. She thrust more fagots into the fire, laughing wickedly +when the flames flared higher and higher. She mounted her broomstick and +rode about, shouting a weird song. + +Gretel watched her from the doorway. That broomstick ride gave her an +opportunity. She stole to the cage, and, whispering, + + "Hocus, pocus, elder bush, + Rigid body, loosen hush!" + +she set Haensel free. But he did not move. No, not yet. + +For the Witch had come back. She was rubbing her hands with glee. Her +face wore an evil smile. Oh, the fine meal she would have! Haensel was +not plump enough. Gretel must be eaten first. So, opening the oven door, +she called Gretel and told her to look inside. But clever Gretel +pretended not to understand. Would not the Witch show her how? Angry, +impatient, muttering to herself, the Witch crept nearer to the oven, and +when she was about to bend over it, Haensel and Gretel gave her one +good, hard push from behind. She toppled over and fell in. Bang! bang! +went the door. She was safe inside. + +How the fire crackled and roared. A moment later there was a great crash +and the oven fell to pieces. Haensel and Gretel, much terrified, started +to run away, but found themselves, to their great surprise, entirely +surrounded by a troop of little children. + +"It's the fence," exclaimed Haensel, "the gingerbread fence!" + +And so it was. The gingerbread had fallen off, and real children stood +there, motionless, with closed eyes, murmuring softly: + + "Oh, touch us, we pray, + That we may all awake!" + +"Pooh! if that's all they want!" said Gretel, proudly, and she repeated: + + "Hocus, pocus, elder bush, + Rigid body, loosen hush!" + +Instantly life came back to the whole troop. They hurried toward Haensel +and Gretel from all sides. They danced, they sang! Two boys ran to the +oven and dragged out the Witch in the form of a big gingerbread cake. +Then the merrymaking began in earnest. They made a big circle, and round +and round it they danced. Last but not least, they ate up the candy +house. At any rate, that is what they were doing when their mothers and +fathers found them there that afternoon. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE MASTER SINGERS + + +I + +Across the wide sea, amid the green hop fields of southern Germany, is +the old, old city of Nuremberg. Shut off from the busy world outside by +its great wall of stone, it has stood unchanged through all the passing +centuries. There are the same narrow, crooked streets leading to the +public squares, where quaintly carved stone fountains stand. There are +the same many gabled, lofty houses, with oriole windows that open +outward. There are latticed doorways with plaster figures that beckon +and bless and welcome. And the gray castle, the grass-grown moat, the +dark, pillared church, all tell stories of the days of long ago. + +In those days men dreamed dreams and sang songs as they sat on the bench +or in the market place. The cobbler at his last, the baker before the +oven, the silversmith by the fire, even the little apprentice, watching +and learning, looked out upon a fair world and found it good. So while +hands were busy, thoughts roved far and wide, and fancy wove many a song +to sing by the fireside on wintry nights. + +But not only by the fireside were those songs sung in the days when +Nuremberg was young. The good people there prized the Art of Song too +highly for that alone. + +"Though a man's lot be humble," they said, "his thoughts may be rich in +fancy; he may have a song to sing." So they formed a guild devoted to +the cultivation of poetry and music, and the members of this guild were +called Master Singers. Every man who wished to enter the guild was +obliged to write some verses,--according to the rules of the guild; and +to compose appropriate music for those verses,--according to the rules +of the guild; and, finally, to sing them both together,--according to +the rules of the guild. Then if the masters approved of his performance, +he became one of the Master Singers of Nuremberg. And great was the +honor conferred upon him when he reached this high estate! Many had +tried, but few had been chosen. Indeed, the entire guild was composed of +but twelve members. These were, for the most part, worthy men, devoted +to their trades and to music. And each one had a boy apprenticed to him, +to whom he taught cobbling or soap-making or baking or tailoring by day, +and the Art of Song by night. + +Among the Master Singers of Nuremberg none is better remembered than +Hans Sachs. He was a cobbler by trade and a poet by nature, and his +songs and verses have outlived his boots by many a year. It is of his +part in a song festival of the Master Singers hundreds of years ago that +our story has to tell. + + +II + +It began on the day before the feast of St. John in St. Catherine's +Church, which was really not the proper place for a love affair to begin +at all. But what did Eva Pogner or Sir Walter von Stolzing care for +that? The only thing that mattered to them was the joyous Springtime +which had stolen in through the open chancel window and had warmed their +hearts toward everything in the world,--but most of all toward each +other. + +Sir Walter stood leaning against a great stone pillar at the back of the +church. He wore a blue velvet suit, his hat had a long white plume, and +he was as handsome a young knight as one could ever wish to see. + +Pretty Eva sat in the last pew with her maid Magdalena by her side. Her +head was bent, and her eyes were upon her prayer book, as befitted a +modest maiden. Still she saw Sir Walter very plainly. In fact, somehow, +she caught every message that his dark eyes sent across the church. And +her cheeks turned rosy, and her heart grew warmer than ever the +Springtime had made it. Indeed, those glances so confused her that she +lost her place in the hymn book. Magdalena noticed it and nudged her +mistress sharply. So Eva sent one glance back to the fascinating young +knight, just a little frightened one; and then she joined in the closing +hymn. But when she lifted up her joyous young voice and made it ring +high above all the rest, Sir Walter stared harder than ever. + +The young knight had loved this light-hearted maiden since he had first +seen her in her father's house. And his only wish was to win her for his +bride. But how? Suppose she were already promised to some one else! + +While these mingled thoughts of joy and doubt possessed him, a ray of +sunshine crept into the dark church. It lingered on Eva's head, making a +halo of her golden hair. A moment later he saw two eyes, mirroring some +of the sky's own blue, dart him a shy glance. And he heard a voice so +sweet that he was sure the angels themselves stood still to listen. Come +what might, thought he, he would speak to her that very day. + +The service was over. One by one the people filed slowly between the +dark pillars, and out of the church, into the bright sunshine. Only Eva +and Magdalena lingered, smiling and chatting with friends and neighbors +as they walked slowly along. As they approached the pillar behind which +Sir Walter stood, he stepped forward. The long, white plume of his hat +swept the floor as he bowed in greeting. + +"One word, my fair maid, I entreat," he began. + +Strange to say, the moment Eva heard his voice she discovered that she +had forgotten her handkerchief. Perhaps it was in the pew. Magdalena +must return for it. + +Then, with the maid safely out of hearing, Eva turned her mischievous +face to Sir Walter. She was ready to listen, so he spoke. Did Eva look +upon him with favor? Might he hope? Scarcely were the words out of his +mouth, when Magdalena was back again, handkerchief in hand. + +"Come, Eva," she said; "it is growing late." + +But Eva was in no hurry, with this gallant cavalier close at hand. +Perhaps he wished to tell her a beautiful story. Had Magdalena seen her +scarfpin? It was gone. Was it there on the floor? + +"Good Lena, go back and find it," said the artful Eva. + +And Lena went back, grumbling, and searched here, there, and everywhere. + +Meanwhile Sir Walter improved his opportunity. The words hurried to his +lips. He begged Eva to tell him whether light and happiness, or gloom +and doubt, were to be his portion. + +The answering words were trembling on Eva's lips ready to be spoken. But +there stood the ubiquitous Magdalena again, with the scarfpin! + +"We must go home," she said. "Come. Here's your kerchief and your pin. +But where's my prayer book? Oh, alackaday! I've left it in the pew!" + +Back she bustled once more. + +These interruptions served to make Sir Walter more impatient than ever. +Would he never be able to make love in peace? He took a long breath, +leaned forward, and whispered eagerly: "May I hope? Or are you promised +to some one else?" + +And for answer, while Eva hid her eyes for fear they would tell of her +love too soon, there was Magdalena again! + +"Yes, Sir Walter," said Magdalena, and she curtsied low, wishing to be +most polite to this handsome young man. + +"Yes, Sir Walter," she repeated. "Our Eva is betrothed." + +Betrothed? Sir Walter was stunned into silence; misery spread itself +like a black cloud over his face. Nor did the reply please Miss Eva, +either. She quickly interrupted, saying: + +"But no one knows who the bridegroom will be. No, not until to-morrow." + +Sir Walter knit his brows. That was amazing! Was it a puzzle? What did +it mean? + +Eva and Magdalena hastened to explain. After all, it was very simple. + +Out in the meadows near Nuremberg a song festival was to be held +to-morrow. It was to be a great singing match. And Eva's father had +promised part of his fortune, and his daughter besides, to the singer +who should win the prize. Eva herself was to crown the victor with a +wreath of laurel. "But," they continued, "he must be a Master Singer. No +one may even try for the prize who is not a member of the guild." + +"Are you not a Master Singer, Sir Walter?" inquired Eva, timidly, and +it was plain that she wished with all her heart to hear him say yes. + +Poor Sir Walter! Until that moment he had never heard of the Master +Singers. As for the song contest, he never even knew that there was to +be such a thing. What was to be done? Could no one help? Walter was in +despair, and Eva, who by this time knew the man she wished to marry, was +on the verge of tears. + +A shaft of light streamed across the church. The door was opened, then +closed with a bang. A youth ran in hastily. He noticed no one. He wore a +businesslike air, as he hurried this way and that. He was David, +apprentice to Hans Sachs, the shoemaker. + +From the expression on Magdalena's face when she saw David, it was easy +to see how matters stood! Her heart was affected, too, and David was the +cause. She looked at him admiringly a moment, then gave a little cough. +David started. He hastened toward her, smiling and holding out his +hands. Ah! it was his own true love, Lena! But she must not detain him. +He was busy. There was to be a trial meeting. + +"A trial meeting!" exclaimed Magdalena, joyfully. "Just the thing!" Now +the handsome knight would have a chance. She beamed happily upon David. +"You must explain everything to him!" she cried, and whispered the +directions eagerly. + +But Mr. David was stubborn. He had no time. There was the platform to be +set, the curtains to be hung, the chairs and the benches to be arranged. +And it was late. + +"David, dear David," coaxed Lena, with her face close to his, "if you'll +help Sir Walter to become a Master Singer, I'll bring you a basket full +of the best things you ever ate." + +And before David had time to refuse, the clever Lena had seized Eva's +hand and had hurried with her from the church. + +Scarcely were they gone, than with a great shouting the jolly +apprentices danced into the church. They hopped and skipped about, +joking and laughing, as they made ready for the meeting. They pulled one +another's hair, they played leapfrog over the chairs, they pushed, they +shoved, but they worked, too, and in a twinkling the church was +transformed into a meeting place. There stood the marker's platform, for +all the world like a great box, with black curtains on all four sides. +To the right of it were the benches for the masters, and in plain view +of all was the great chair for the candidate. + +Sir Walter had, all unconsciously, seated himself in the great chair. +His eyes stared moodily ahead. He heard nothing, saw nothing, of all the +fun about him. He was buried in deepest gloom. He had promised Eva that +he would become a poet, a singer, for her sake, and he wished to do so, +but where and how was he to begin? Her father would not allow her to +marry any one but a Master Singer. How could he become a Master Singer +in one day? + +While these thoughts passed through the young knight's mind, young David +stood watching. Suddenly he shouted: + +"Now begin!" + +Walter gave a jump. + +"Eh, what?" he stuttered. + +"Begin the song," said David. "That's what the marker says, and then you +must sing up. Don't you know that?" + +Sir Walter shook his head. He knew nothing. + +"He's a stupid fellow for all his fine clothes," thought David. Then he +said aloud: + +"Don't you know that the marker is the man who sits in the curtained box +and marks the mistakes?" + +No. Sir Walter did not know that. + +"Don't you know that the singer may have seven mistakes, seven,--and no +more?" + +Sir Walter did not know that, either. + +"Well, well! And you want to become a Master Singer in one day. I've +studied for years and years with Hans Sachs, my master, and I'm not a +Master Singer yet. You have a lot to learn," and David gave a great sigh +and scratched his head with his forefinger. Then, like the kind-hearted +fellow that he was, but with half a thought fixed upon Lena's cakes, he +began to explain. He explained the rules for high tones and low tones, +for standing and sitting, for breathing and ending, for grace notes and +middle notes, for rhyming and tuning; and the more he explained, the +more perplexed poor Sir Walter became. His spirits dropped, dropped, +down to his very boots. Indeed, his discouragement was so great that I +fear he would have been much inclined to run away if at that moment the +Master Singers had not come in. + +Veit Pogner, the rich silversmith, came first. And tagging behind him, +talking excitedly, and gesticulating while he talked, was the Marker of +the guild, the town clerk, Sixtus Beckmesser. The rest came after. But +their voices could not be heard. The town clerk was so busy telling +Master Pogner that he hoped to win his daughter on the morrow, and that +he would serenade her that very night, that no one else had a chance to +say anything. + +Imagine a short man, a fat man, a man with thin, crooked legs, a mincing +gait, a head too bald, a face too red; in short, a clown of a man. That +was Sixtus Beckmesser. Then think of two squinting eyes fastened upon +Master Pogner's money. That was the secret of the town clerk's love for +pretty Eva. He was as different from Sir Walter as night is from day, as +sorrow is from joy, as falsehood is from truth. But he was determined to +win in the song contest. And he had many powers, good and evil, to help +him, as you shall see. + +Sir Walter stepped forward, and Veit Pogner greeted him kindly. Surely +so handsome a knight should be favored. Hans Sachs came forward, also. +And all agreed that Sir Walter should be given an opportunity. Only +Beckmesser snarled with rage, for the young knight was a formidable +rival. + +"Ha! ha!" croaked he to himself. "Just wait. Let him try to sing! I'll +show him what singing is." + +Sir Walter was bidden to seat himself in the candidate's chair. And, +with a smile that was far from friendly, Sixtus Beckmesser, slate and +chalk in hand, entered the Marker's box and pulled the curtains together +behind him. + +Then in a harsh tone he called out:-- + +"Now begin!" + +Walter mused a moment and then began his song. The words, the music, +flowed forth unbidden from his full heart. He sang of the Springtime +which came into the sleeping forest, and, with thousands of heavenly +voices, awakened the birds, the bees, the flowers. He sang of murmuring +brooks, of rustling leaves, and of winter all forlorn, lurking in the +woodlands, loath to depart. + +And as he sang, groans of discouragement came from within the Marker's +box. There was the sound of chalk scratches, once, twice, and again. + +Walter hesitated a moment. Then he went on. He sang of the awakening of +the woods to life, to happiness. His voice rose high in joyous refrain. + +But a loud groan came from the Marker's box. Another scratch--another. + +Walter took a long breath. He did not care. With thoughts of his fair +Eva in mind, he sang on. He sang of love, which, like Springtime in the +woodland, had awakened his heart. He sang of the thrill of life it +brought, the happiness, the all-surpassing joy. + +Suddenly the curtains were roughly pushed apart, and Beckmesser rushed +out, slate in hand. It was covered on both sides with marks! + +"Can no one stop him?" he cried as he jumped frantically about. "The +slate is full," and he laughed exultingly. + +The Masters joined in the laughter, for, it was true, Sir Walter had +sung according to no rule of the guild. Only Hans Sachs and Veit Pogner, +realizing the beauty and poetry of the song, tried to argue for the +young knight. But their opinions were overruled. The Master Singers +decreed that Sir Walter had lost his chance. He must be silent and sing +no more. Sixtus Beckmesser remained triumphant, and Walter left the +church while the Masters pronounced the decree,-- + +"Outdone and outsung." + + +III + +The day of toil was over. Twilight came, and then the cool and quiet +evening. A bright moon rode on high. It peeped in and out, between the +gables, behind the church spire, and promised fair weather for the +morrow. + + "Midsummer Day, Midsummer Day, + And the song festival so gay,--" + +sang the jolly 'prentice boys, as they appeared at their masters' house +doors to close the shutters for the night. + +David stood on the little grass plot before his master's cottage, also. +But he was not in so merry a mood. He was a serious young man with a +sweetheart of his own, and he had no time for frivolity or nonsense. Let +silly boys caper as they wished. So he pulled down the shutters and +never noticed Magdalena, who had slipped out of Veit Pogner's great +house across the street and was hastening toward him. The boys snickered +and beckoned to one another in great glee. A well-laden basket was on +Magdalena's arm, and even her voice had an inviting sound. + +"David, dear, turn around!" she called. David hastened eagerly to her +side. The boys, too, with broad grins overspreading their faces, crept +forward on tiptoes to listen. + +"See, David," they heard Lena say, "here's something nice for you. Take +a peep inside. Doesn't that make your mouth water? But tell me first, +what of Sir Walter?" + +"There's nothing much to tell," answered David, quite unconcerned. "He +was outsung and outdone!" + +"Outsung and outdone!" gasped Magdalena. "Take your hands off of my +basket. No, sir! None of my goodies for you!" and she flounced off, +murmuring: "What's to be done? Oh, what's to be done?" + +David stared after her. He was dumfounded. But the boys jeered and +pointed their fingers at him. They had heard it all. Laughing and +singing, they formed a ring, and capered about David, who became very +angry, and struck out blindly right and left. But the more he raved and +raged, the more they teased and tormented, until, all of a sudden, a +tall figure stood before them. It was Hans Sachs, the cobbler. Annoyance +was written all over his good-humored face. His honest blue eyes sent +out sparks of anger. The boys hung their heads. + +"What does this mean?" he cried. "To bed! To bed!" The apprentices stole +shamefacedly away. + +"And you"--he continued, taking the crest-fallen David by the ear, "put +the new shoes on the lasts and get into the house. No song to-night, +sir!" They entered the workshop. + +All was still on the narrow street for a little while. Eva and her +father sauntered homeward from their evening walk. They lingered for a +few moments beneath the linden tree before the door, enjoying the +evening air. Then they entered the house for supper. Lights glimmered in +the windows. A dog barked in the distance. Peace pervaded the quiet +town. + +Hans Sachs appeared again at his workshop door. He flung it open and +peered down the street, then he looked up at the sky. The gentle evening +breeze fanned his cheeks. How refreshing it was! How pleasant it would +be to work out of doors to-night! And, calling David, he ordered him to +place his bench, his stool, the light, the tools outside, beneath the +tree. + +"You will not work in this light, Master?" queried David. + +"Be quiet," retorted Hans Sachs, shortly. "Go to bed!" + +"Sleep well, Master." + +"Good night," answered Hans Sachs, as he sat down by the bench and took +up his tools. But he did not work. The silvery moonlight cast a glamor +over the town. It softened the outlines of all that he looked upon and +made them vague, uncertain, beautiful. The evening breeze wafted down +the sweet scent of the elder blossoms, and a delicious languor overcame +him. The soul of the poet arose in the body of the cobbler, and, as if +under a spell, he sat motionless, oblivious to shoes, lasts, tools, +everything. The Song of Spring that the young knight had sung that +afternoon began to haunt him. Faintly, elusively, it came to his mind, +like the distant echo of a melody heard in a dream. Musing upon Sir +Walter, who, like the birds in the woodland, had sung the song his heart +had told him to sing, he did not see Eva trip lightly from her father's +house. She paused before him. Hans Sachs looked up. The sweet girl, +swaying back and forth like a bird on a bough, looked more like a happy +thought than a physical reality. + +Eva broke the silence shyly. + +"Good evening, Master," she said. "Still working?" + +Instantly Hans Sachs' face wore a genial smile of welcome. + +"Ah, little Eva," he answered, "you have come to speak about those new +shoes for to-morrow, I'll be bound." + +Now, as you no doubt have already guessed, artful Miss Eva had come for +no such purpose at all. To tell the truth, she had feared to ask her +father aught concerning the trial meeting of the Master Singers that +afternoon. For she knew it would be far easier to wheedle the story from +her old friend Hans Sachs. + +With a fine affectation of unconcern she began her questioning. But +little did she know Hans Sachs. He, as it happened, was quite clever +enough to divine her plan. He suspected that she must have some hidden +reason for this sudden interest in the trial meeting. At least, he +thought, it would do no harm to find out. So he spoke harshly of Sir +Walter, and pretended that he had sung abominably at the trial meeting. +Indeed, the Masters were quite right in rejecting him! And all the time +he watched Eva's expression and laughed, oh, how he laughed, in his +sleeve! + +Eva flushed crimson. She flew into a temper. + +"A nice lot of Masters, indeed!" She flung the words at Hans Sachs. +"Little do they know of fine singing, or you either, for that matter." +Then she rushed angrily away, and crossed the street to her own home. + +Hans Sachs smiled tenderly. He nodded his head wisely as he gazed after +her. + +"Ah!" he said to himself, "that's just what I thought! That's just what +I thought!" + +And still shaking his head, he gathered up his tools and entered the +workshop. He closed the door behind him; that is, he nearly closed the +door,--nearly, not entirely, which was most fortunate, as you shall see. + +Not long afterward Sir Walter von Stolzing came hastening down the +street. His face was full of sorrow. All his hopes of winning Eva were +gone. He would see her once more, and then bid her farewell forever. + +Eva saw him coming. Running toward him, she greeted him gladly and led +him to the garden seat, beneath the shade of the linden tree. And there +the young knight told her of his failure. As he spoke of the +narrow-minded Masters who had spurned his song, his voice grew bitter. +"Ah," he continued, "all hope is gone unless you will marry me +to-night." Eva assented eagerly. And so, in excited whispers, just loud +enough for Hans Sachs to hear, the two lovers planned to run away. + +Losing no time, Eva ran into the house and donned Magdalena's cloak. +Then, bidding the maid seat herself by the window in her stead, she +hurried to join Sir Walter. + +Just as the two lovers made ready under cover of the darkness to dive +down the narrow street, clever Hans Sachs threw his workshop door wide +open, and the broad stream of bright light from his lamp flooded their +path. Eva and Sir Walter fell back. They could not pass that way. The +cobbler would be sure to see them. They looked in the opposite +direction. No. There was the watchman, and skulking in his wake was +still another figure. Who could that be? He was coming that way. Oh, +this would never do. In despair the lovers rushed back to the friendly +shadows beneath the linden tree. + +Meanwhile Hans Sachs, who had no objection to their marriage, but who +felt a great distaste for elopements, had brought out his tools, and had +seated himself at his workbench once more. He, too, spied a strange +figure slinking down the street toward Pogner's house. Well he knew +those thin legs, that fat body, the too bald head, the too red face. It +was Beckmesser, the town clerk, the Marker of the guild. He had come to +serenade the fair Eva. He would show her what fine singing was. And he +looked up at her window expectantly, as he tuned his lute. + +At the same moment Hans Sachs, chuckling softly to himself, broke out +in a loud song accompanied by an outrageous hammering upon a pair of +shoes. His big voice rang out so lustily that it completely drowned the +tinkle, tinkle of the town clerk's lute. Beckmesser became frantic with +rage. Suppose Miss Eva should hear! Suppose she should think he was +singing in that atrocious manner. A slim chance he would have to win her +to-morrow! He gazed at the closed shutters Then he ran to Hans Sachs, +scolding and pleading with him to be silent. What did Master Beckmesser +want? And Master Sachs was most indignant. Those were his shoes that he +was working upon. A man must keep at his trade. And the jolly cobbler +went on hammering and singing as loudly as before. + +The panic of Master Beckmesser increased. He paced angrily to and fro. +He put his fingers to his ears. And if Hans Sachs had not been so big +and strong, it is not hard to imagine what he would have done next. + +At last when the window in Pogner's house opened wide and revealed a +maiden seated there, Hans Sachs ceased. He had a plan. He consented to +listen to Beckmesser's serenade if he might be permitted to mark each +error by tapping on his lapstone. For there were shoes to be finished, +and that was the only way. + +The plan did not please Beckmesser at all, but, since he had no choice, +he was forced to agree. So, by way of beginning, he strummed a prelude +on his lute, and looked for favor at the figure in the window. But +before he had time to get his breath Hans Sachs had struck the shoe a +mighty blow and had shouted,-- + +"Now begin!" + +Beckmesser started. Then he began to sing. But a sorry performance it +was. The nervousness, the anger, the malice, had entered his voice and +had made it harsh and squeaky by turns. He sang a line. It was out of +tune. Down went the hammer. He scowled and began another line. It did +not rhyme. The hammer fell again. And so, becoming more and more +enraged, Beckmesser sang more and more falsely, so that Hans Sachs was +kept busy beating a veritable tattoo upon his lapstone. Beckmesser +squeaked, he bawled, he howled, and all the time Hans Sachs hammered and +hammered, until both shoes were done. + +This howling and hammering awakened the people in the houses all about. +Shutters were pushed back, windows were opened, nightcaps appeared and +sleepy voices ordered them to be silent. + +David, hearing the tumult, peered out. When he saw a strange man before +the window serenading a lady whom he at once perceived to be his Lena, +he rushed out, cudgel in hand. He fell upon the unfortunate musician, +who yelled so loudly that the whole neighborhood was aroused. The +apprentices rushed out and fell upon David, and the Masters rushed out +and fell upon the apprentices, and before any one knew what it was all +about, everybody was hitting everybody else. The clamor and commotion +grew and grew apace. People came running from all sides, and joined in +the general hubbub and confusion. + +Only Hans Sachs kept a cool head. Seeing that Eva and her knight were +about to make use of the excitement to run away, he intercepted them. +First he pushed Eva into her father's house. Then, grasping Walter by +the arm, he thrust him into his own workshop and, following him, closed +the door. + +The street fight continued. Suddenly the sound of the watchman's horn +was heard in the distance. The crowd was seized with a panic of fear. As +if by magic, it dispersed. The people suddenly disappeared into the +houses, down the alleys, behind doors, anywhere. The lights were +extinguished. All was still. + +When the sleepy watchman came to that street, he rubbed his eyes, stared +about him in surprise, and then shook his head. Could he have been +dreaming? He thought that he had heard a noise. Holding his torch aloft, +he blew his horn and cried out: + + "To my words, ye people, hearken: + All your houses straight way darken! + 'Tis ten o'clock, all fires put out! + Let naught of evil lurk about. + Praised be the Lord!" + +Then he went his way. And the moon shone down upon the peaceful streets +of Nuremberg. + + +IV + +Midsummer Day dawned. Long before the town was awake, while Sir Walter +still slumbered in an inner room of the cottage, Hans Sachs sat in the +great armchair by the open window. The morning sunshine fell upon his +head as he bent over the thick and musty volume he held in his hands. +But who shall say he was reading as he turned the time-worn leaves over +and over? His mind wandered far afield,--to the early days of his +beloved Nuremberg, to the trades, to himself, the humble cause of last +night's brawl. And the thought of the two young lovers came to him. He +would like so much to help them, if he could only find a way. So +absorbed was he that he scarcely noticed the youth David who came to +offer him the basket of goodies, which Magdalena had given him as a +token of forgiveness. + +And so the moments passed. Hans Sachs resumed his reading, until at +length the chamber door was opened and Sir Walter stood upon the +threshold. Bidding his host good morning, he walked slowly toward him. + +"Ah, good morning, Sir Knight," replied Hans Sachs, forgetful of the +great book, which slid to the floor as he arose. "I hope you rested +well." + +"Thank you. The sleep that I had was restful," answered Sir Walter, in a +dreamy and preoccupied tone. Then he exclaimed rapturously,-- + +"But I had a most beautiful dream!" + +"A dream?" Hans Sachs was all attention. "Tell it to me!" + +"I dare not. I fear it will fade away," said Sir Walter. + +"Nay. It is of such dreams that poetry is made,"--and the eyes of the +cobbler gleamed with an inner radiance. "Poems are but dreams made +real." + +Thus urged and encouraged, the young knight sang the story of his dream. +And Hans Sachs was moved by the rare beauty of the poetry and music. +Hastily procuring pen and ink, he bade Sir Walter sing it over again +while he transcribed the words to paper. Then, as the song continued, +the kind-hearted master added bits of advice in a low tone. He showed +the young knight how he could keep the words and melody as beautiful as +his dream, and still obey the rules of correct singing. Charging him +not to forget the tune, Hans Sachs insisted that Sir Walter array +himself in his richest garments and accompany him to the Song Festival. + +"For," concluded he, "something may happen. Who can tell?" And so the +two men entered the inner room together. + +Hans Sachs was right. Something did happen, and very soon, too. Scarcely +was that door closed than the one leading to the street was cautiously +pushed open. And a too bald head, a too red face, and two squinting, +crafty eyes peeped in. Then, assured that no one was about, a wretched +figure limped after. It was Beckmesser, the town clerk, but a sore and +aching Beckmesser; a Beckmesser who could neither sit, nor stand,--a +miserable Beckmesser, whose disposition had not been at all improved by +the cudgeling that he had received. Slowly and painfully he came +forward. And since there was no one at hand, he shook his fist and +scowled savagely at the bright sunshine and the soft air. + +As he hopped and limped about the room, he came, by chance, to the table +whereon lay the paper upon which Hans Sachs had written. He took it up, +inquisitively sniffing, as he ran his eye over it. What was this? A +trial song, and a love song at that? And, hearing the chamber door open, +he, then and there, stuck the paper into his pocket. How Hans Sachs +smiled when he saw what the crafty creature had been about! + +"Very well, Master Beckmesser," said he. "Since you've already pocketed +the song, and since I do not wish you to be known as a thief, I gladly +give it to you." + +"And you'll never tell any one that you composed it?" squeaked +Beckmesser. + +"No, I'll never tell any one that I composed it," and Hans Sachs turned +away to hide his laughter, for he knew full well that no Master +Beckmesser could learn and sing that song that day. + +But the miserable Beckmesser was beside himself with joy. Such a song, +composed by a master like Hans Sachs and sung by a singer like Sixtus +Beckmesser, could not fail to win the prize! Rubbing his hands with +glee, he hobbled and stumbled from the room. + +The time for the Song Festival came at last. The worthy people of +Nuremberg,--the bakers, the cobblers, the tailors, the tinkers, with +their wives and their sweethearts, all clad in the brightest of holiday +clothes, journeyed to the open meadow at some distance behind the town. +And there a scene of jollity and merriment awaited them. Gayly decorated +boats sailed to and fro, bringing more burghers from near and far. Under +tents of colored bunting merry people were eating and drinking. Flags +flew, bands played; there was dancing and singing, laughter and joy. And +the 'prentices in all the glory of floating ribbons and many-colored +flowers ran this way and that, ordering the tradespeople to the benches +one moment and dancing with the prettiest girls the next. + +Suddenly a shout was heard: "The Master Singers! The Master Singers!" +And a hush fell over the company, as the 'prentices marched solemnly +forward and cleared the way. The standard bearer came first, and +following him, Veit Pogner, leading the fair Eva by the hand. She was +richly dressed, and looked radiant as the morning itself. Attending her +were other splendidly gowned maidens, among whom was the one that David +thought the most lovely of all. Then came the Master Singers. And when +the people saw their beloved Hans Sachs among the rest, they shouted and +waved their hats in loyal greeting. + +The Master Singers took their seats on the platform, a place of honor in +their midst having been assigned to Eva and her maidens. Several +'prentices ran forward and heaped up a little mound of turf, which they +beat solid and then strewed with flowers. The time for the prize +singing was at hand. + + "Unmarried masters, forward to win! + Friend Beckmesser, it is time. Begin!" + +The 'prentices conducted Beckmesser to the mound. He put up one aching +leg, then the other. He stood wavering uncertainly a moment, then +toppled over. + +"The thing is rickety," he snarled. "Make it secure." + +The boys set hastily to work, slyly snickering, while they beat the turf +with their spades. And the people near at hand giggled and whispered: + +"What a lover!"--"I wouldn't care for him if I were the lady."--"He's +too fat."--"Look at his red face."--"Where's his hair?" + +With the help of the 'prentices Beckmesser again hobbled up on the +mound. Striving to set his feet securely, he looked right and left. Then +he made a grand bow. + +The standard bearer called out,-- + +"Now, begin." + +And he began. He sang such a song as Nuremberg had never heard before +and hoped never to hear again. Mixed with the tune of the new song was +the miserable serenade he had sung the night before. As for the new +words that he had tried to learn, they were gone completely. His mind +was blank. So he ducked his head and took a peep at the paper, and +instead of the words, + + "Morning was gleaming with roseate light, + The air was filled + With scent distilled,"-- + +Beckmesser sang,-- + + "Yawning and steaming with roseate light, + My hair was filled + With scent distilled,"-- + +and much more besides that was far worse. The people muttered to each +other. They could not understand what it was all about. The Masters +stared in perplexity. Finally, as the singer became more and more +confused, and sang a jumble of ridiculous and meaningless words, they +all burst into a loud peal of laughter. + +The sound of laughter stung Beckmesser to fury. He stumbled angrily from +the mound and, shaking his fist at Hans Sachs, declared that if the song +was poor, it was not his fault. Hans Sachs was to blame. He had written +it. Then he threw the paper on the platform and, rushing madly through +the crowd, disappeared. + +The people were in confusion, the Masters were amazed. They all turned +to Hans Sachs for an explanation. He picked up the paper, smoothed it +out, handed it to the Masters, and said: + +"No, the song is not mine. I could not hope to compose anything so +beautiful." + +Beautiful? The Masters were incredulous. Hans Sachs must be joking. But +he went on. + +"Yes, beautiful. Master Beckmesser has sung it incorrectly. The one who +wrote it could render it in a manner that would prove its beauty beyond +a doubt." Raising his voice, he called: + +"Let the one who can sing the song step forward." + +And to the great surprise of all, Sir Walter von Stolzing, clad in +glittering knightly apparel, came from the crowd. He bowed courteously +to the Masters, and won the hearts of all by his noble looks and his +manly bearing. He stepped lightly upon the mound, mused a moment, and +then began his song of the dream. And, as before, the words, the music, +gushed forth from his full heart. He put all his love, all his yearning, +into the melody he sang. His voice swelled upward like the rising tide. +And when it reached the full, the rapture of it touched the hearts of +all who listened. The song was finished. A hush fell upon the Masters +and people alike. But only for a moment; soon a glad shout arose: + +"Master Singer! Master Singer!" + +And Sir Walter von Stolzing knew that the victory was his. + +They led him to the fair Eva and placed her hand in his. While the +people waved and sang, she placed a wreath of laurel upon his head. It +was his beautiful dream coming true. Then the Masters hung a chain of +gold around his neck, which showed that he was a member of the guild. +Sir Walter thought of the treatment that he had received the day before +at the trial meeting, and he was about to refuse. But Hans Sachs arose +and spoke gravely of the reverence due to the Art of Song. And Walter +forgot his bitterness, and thought only of his love and future happiness +with Eva by his side. + +And so with the people singing, + + "Hail, all hail + Nuremberg's beloved Hans Sachs," + +Midsummer Day and the Song Festival came to an end. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +LOHENGRIN, THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN + + +I + +Long years ago a maiden, fair as the morning itself, wandered through a +lonely greenwood in the Duchy of Brabant. She was Elsa, only daughter of +the late Duke of Brabant, who had died but a short time before this +story begins. + +Although Elsa was the rightful owner of all the wooded lands and fertile +fields for miles and miles around, she was far from happy. Although +summer lay warm and fragrant over those lands, and flowers blossomed +along her pathway, yet Elsa's heart was heavy within her. She was full +of sorrow. For, not long before, while walking in those self-same woods, +her brother Godfrey had suddenly and unaccountably disappeared from her +side. Elsa had searched and searched. She had wept, she had prayed, +but all in vain. No trace of him had she found anywhere. Spent with +grief and anxiety, she had run to her guardian, Frederick of Telramund, +and told him the story. But Frederick had repulsed her with unkind +glances and cruel words. He had even accused her of doing away with her +poor brother, that she might claim the entire Duchy of Brabant for +herself. + +This guardian, Frederick of Telramund, knew well enough that Elsa was +incapable of so foul a deed. He knew that she had loved her brother +Godfrey far too well to do him harm. But Frederick had coveted the rich +lands and vast possessions of Brabant for many a year. And he was +determined to get them now by fair means or foul. Moreover, he had +married the pagan princess Ortrud, who was every whit as evil-minded and +ambitious as he. Ortrud's father, a heathen prince, had once owned part +of Brabant, and they were confident that, with Godfrey and Elsa out of +the way, they could lay claim to the whole Duchy. How they plotted and +schemed together against poor Elsa! + +Do you wonder, then, that Elsa walked through the forest on that morning +long ago, with downcast eyes, oblivious to all save her own sad +thoughts? Her father was dead, her brother was gone, her guardian had +proved false. To whom should she turn for guidance? Weary and perplexed, +she sank down beneath the sheltering branches of a friendly tree near +by. All was calm and still. Her tired eyes rested upon the deep blue +dome of the sky, and thoughts of God, the All-Father, filled her mind. +Ah, she could put her trust in Him. And a prayer for help arose from her +heart. Perhaps it was the answer to her prayer, perhaps it was only a +dream, but then and there Elsa saw a marvelous vision. The heavens +opened, and disclosed a noble knight. Enveloped in heavenly light, this +knight descended to earth, and stood before Elsa. He smiled upon her, +and, like a miracle, she became tranquil and unafraid. He was so strong, +so stalwart, so brave! His shining white armor glittered in the +sunlight. A glistening sword hung by his side, a golden horn from his +shoulder. His eyes were kind. There was comfort in his voice. + +"Arise!" spoke he, "and go your way. Be of good cheer, and fear not, for +when your need is sorest, I will come to defend you." + +Then he vanished. Elsa was alone in the greenwood. + + +II + +Just at this time the King of all Germany came down to Brabant. With +pomp and ceremony he came, bringing rough knights from Saxony and brave +nobles from Thuringia, all good men and true, to bear him company. + +Henry the First was he, a wise king and a just. People called him Henry +the Fowler because he was so fond of hunting. It may be, however, that +it was not the hunt that he loved so much as the great out-of-doors, the +wide plains, the wild forests, the winding rivers. Whenever he summoned +his faithful subjects to discuss affairs of peace or war, he chose some +meeting place under the blue sky, in God's temple, where men breathe +deeply, think clearly, and judge rightly. + +So, when at Brabant King Henry found no duke to greet him; when, +instead, he heard of strife, of discord, and of strange whispers, he sat +himself down beneath a giant oak on the bank of the winding river +Scheldt. And the trumpeters blew a great blast, the herald proclaimed +the King's presence, the trusty men who had come to bear him company +stood at arms, while the Brabantians gathered from north and south, from +east and west, of the Duchy to hearken to the King's word. + +"I had come here, my good people," began the King, "to ask the aid of +your forces in subduing the wild Hungarian foe. Full well do I know +that as loyal German subjects you are ready to answer your country's +call. But I find discord in your midst, strife and confusion. Therefore +have I called you together to learn the causes thereof and to deal +justly with the offenders, be it possible." + +The people of Brabant were pleased with the King's words and looked to +Frederick of Telramund to make answer. Frederick arose. Behind him stood +his wife, the dark-haired princess Ortrud, ready to prompt him should he +hesitate. + +But false Frederick did not hesitate. His voice did not tremble, +although he spoke with much show of grief. He made a low obeisance to +the King and besought sympathy for the sad tale he was about to tell. He +told how the dying Duke had intrusted Elsa and Godfrey to his care, how +tenderly he had reared them, how devotedly he had loved them, and how +sorely the mysterious disappearance of Godfrey had grieved him. And +then, he continued, he had been forced to believe that Elsa had murdered +her brother in order to claim the whole Duchy for herself--or +mayhap--for some secret lover. Therefore he, Frederick of Telramund, and +his wife Ortrud, by right of inheritance, besought the King to make them +Duke and Duchess of Brabant. + +"An astounding story indeed!" The free-men muttered to each other. The +nobles looked at Frederick and shook their heads. "The man must be sure +of his proof to make such an accusation," said they, as they turned +toward the King. + +King Henry sat with bowed head, in deep thought. He ran his hand over +his forehead, pondered a moment, and then murmured: + +"So foul a deed!" + +Aloud he said: + +"I would see this maid. I would look upon her face. I would hear her +tale. And may God guide my judgment aright." + +Hanging his shield on the giant oak behind him, King Henry swore never +to wear it again until justice had been done. And all the German nobles +drew their swords and thrust them, points down, into the ground, +swearing never to wear them again until justice had been done. And the +men of Brabant laid their swords at their feet, swearing the same. Then +the herald summoned Elsa. + +She came, the fair-haired Elsa, clad all in white, with her train of +ladies, all in white, behind her. They paused, and she, with hands +clasped and eyes cast down, advanced timidly, slowly, alone, until she +stood before the King. Her golden hair, unbound, hung a cloud of glory +about her. How young she was! How lovely! The rough knights gazed upon +her, and their eyes filled with tears. Surely no maiden with such a face +could be guilty of such a crime. + +The King spoke very gently. Was she Elsa of Brabant? She bowed her +head. Did she know the heavy charge that had been brought against her? +She bowed again. Was she willing that he, King Henry, should judge her? +Once more her head was bowed in assent. And it was only when the King +asked whether she was guilty of this murder that Elsa found voice. She +wrung her hands piteously, and exclaimed, "Oh, my poor, poor brother!" + +A dreamy look was upon Elsa's face as she told her story. Her voice +trembled, and her eyes strayed over the distant hills. It was as though +she saw it all again. + +She told of that day in the woods, her sad walk alone, her deep grief, +her utter weariness. She told of her rest beneath the friendly tree and +of the blue heaven overhead. But when she told of her prayer to God for +guidance in her distress, her faltering voice grew stronger, braver. +Rapturously, she told of her dream, and of the noble knight whose white +armor had glittered in the sunlight, of his sword, his horn, and, +last, of his promise. + +"Him will I trust!" she cried. "He shall my Champion be!" + +The knights, the nobles, the King, were startled. But Frederick of +Telramund cried out. + +"Such words do not mislead me. See! does she not speak of a secret +lover? What further proof do you need? Here stand I, and here's my +sword, both ready to fight for my honor." + +Now since King Henry believed that God in His wisdom would surely give +might to the hands that fought for Right, he asked Frederick if he were +ready to fight for life or death to uphold this charge that he had +brought. + +Frederick answered, "Yes." + +Then the King turned to Elsa, and asked her if she were willing to have +her champion fight for life or death to prove her blameless. + +Elsa answered, "Yes," and, to the great astonishment of all, named her +unknown knight as her champion. + +"None other will I have," she said. "He will come to defend me, and upon +him will I bestow my father's lands. Aye, should he deign to wed me, I +will be his bride." + +"Then cry out the summons," ordered the King. + +The herald stepped forth with his trumpeters four. Placing one to the +east and one to the west, one to the north, and one to the south, he +bade them blow a great blast. + +"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!" + +The trumpet's call, the herald's words, fell on the clear air. The echo +sounded and resounded. There was a long pause. All was still. + +The dark-haired Ortrud curled her lips scornfully, and an evil smile lit +the face of Frederick of Telramund. + +"Once more, O King!" implored Elsa, "once more let the summons be +sounded!" and she fell upon her knees at his feet. + +The King nodded. The trumpeters blew another blast. Again the herald +cried out: + +"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!" + +Again the notes died away on the clear air. Again the echo sounded, +resounded. Another long pause. All was as still as before. Only the +voice of Elsa in prayer was heard. Oh, how she prayed! Her need was +great. Surely the noble knight of her dream would not fail her. God had +sent him to her in the greenwood. He would send him now. She would put +her trust in Him. And she bowed her head in her hands. + +Suddenly the men on the river bank were seen peering eagerly into the +distance. They beckoned, they waved, they whispered. Others ran to join +them. And they, too, gazed, then pointed excitedly down the river. What +strange sight was there? What was it that glittered, glistened from +afar? Its brightness dazzled the eyes. Ah! it was lost to view behind +the curving shore. No, it appeared again. Behold a wonder! A swan, a +snow-white swan was gliding gracefully toward them. It drew a boat, a +silver boat. And in the boat, erect, his bright armor glittering in the +sun, stood a knight. He leaned upon his sword. A helmet was on his head, +a shield on his shoulder, a horn by his side. The swan drew him nearer. +He approached the very bank. Oh, wondrous sight! A gallant knight had +been sent by Heaven to defend the fair-haired maiden. Might had come to +fight for Right. + +The men were awestruck. In silence, entranced, they gazed at the swan, +the boat, the Heaven-appointed knight. The King, from his seat beneath +the giant oak, surveyed the scene in bewilderment. Elsa felt the +excitement, heard the murmurs, still dared not lift her head. But the +face of Frederick was dark and gloomy to see, and Ortrud cowered down +in terror and shuddered strangely when she beheld the snow-white swan. + +The noble knight had stepped to the shore. Casting a loving look at his +dear swan, he bade it a tender farewell, and watched it sadly as it +glided away, over the water, around the curve, out of sight. + +Then he turned. Elsa, rising, uttered a cry of joy when she saw his +face. It was he! The noble knight of her dream! So strong, so stalwart, +so brave! He had come. There Was naught to fear. + +Solemnly, with long strides, armor glistening, sword clanking, helmet in +hand, the Swan Knight advanced and stood before the King. He made a low +obeisance, then announced that he had come to champion a guiltless maid +who had been falsely accused of a woeful crime. He looked at Elsa. + +"Elsa," he said, "do you choose me as your defender?" + +"Yes," she cried. + +"And if I prove victorious, will you be my bride?" + +"Yes." + +Surely there was little that she would not promise this noble knight who +had come from afar to defend her. And Elsa threw herself at his feet, +vowing to give him all she had, even her life, if need be. But the Swan +Knight raised her and, looking into her eyes, asked but one promise, a +strange one. If he was to defend her, if he was to be her husband, she +must trust him utterly. She must never ask his name. No, she must not +even think of it, or who he was, or from whence he came. + +At that moment it seemed very easy for Elsa to promise so simple a +thing. But the Swan Knight was very solemn, and he repeated the words +slowly, saying,-- + + "Mark this well, Elsa. + These questions ask me never, + Nor think upon them ever, + From whence I hither came, + What is my rank or name." + +She listened carefully, then promised gladly never to doubt him, always +to obey him. It was such a little thing, and was he not her shield, her +angel, her preserver? + +So the King arranged the fight. Three Saxons advanced for the Swan +Knight, three men of Brabant for Frederick of Telramund. With three +solemn paces they measured the ground. The King struck his sword three +times against his shield, and the battle was on. + + "Oh, let the arm of Right be strong, + And feeble be the arm of Wrong," + +sang the men. + +And it was so. God gave Might to the arm of the Knight. But a few passes +and falsehood and deceit were vanquished. Frederick the Traitor lay +prostrate on the ground with the sword of the Swan Knight pointed at his +throat. Still the Knight spared his life. He bade him go his way and +sin no more. + +Justice had been done. King Henry took his shield from the tree behind +him. The Saxons, the Thuringians, the Brabantians, resumed their swords. +God had been with them that day under the blue sky, and so amid great +rejoicing they bore Elsa and her Swan Knight from the field. + + +III + +Night hung over the palace. Sounds of revelry, a trumpet's blast, burst +from the gayly illuminated abode of the knights. But within the +apartments of the Duchess Elsa all was dark and still. + +Opposite stood the cathedral wherein, on the morrow, Elsa would become +the Swan Knight's bride. Though the delicate spires of the cathedral +pointed to a starry sky, dark shadows lurked about the portico. And in +the gloom of these shadows, two figures sat, two abject, miserable +figures,--Frederick of Telramund and Ortrud his wife. Despoiled of their +rich garments and shunned by all, they knew not which way to turn. Since +the Stranger Knight was now Guardian of Brabant, banishment was their +fate, poverty their portion. + +After the manner of evildoers, each charged the other with their +misfortune. False Frederick, who had been willing enough to listen to +the promptings of his witch-wife, now upraided her for having used +sorcery to accomplish her wicked ends. It was she who had urged him to +falsehood, he said; she who had induced him to turn traitor; she who had +blackened his ancient name and besmirched his honor. Stung to fury by +the recital of his woes, he called her evil names. He even wished for +his sword in order to strike her dead. + +But Ortrud was not a sorceress for nothing. She knew how to cool his +wrath. She taunted him, in turn, for showing cowardice in the fight. +She called him weak of heart and feeble of purpose. She spoke thus: "Who +is this Swan Knight who has vanquished the once powerful Frederick? From +whence has he come? And what is his power? Only witchcraft has brought +him, witchcraft and magic. And magic will take him away. If but one +small point of his body can be injured, he will be helpless and at our +mercy." + +Frederick took heart when he heard these words. Perhaps all was not over +yet. Perhaps Ortrud's black magic and his strength could be used to some +purpose before the marriage day dawned. If doubt could be instilled into +the mind of Elsa, if she could be made to forget her promise, the spell +would be broken. Or, if the Swan Knight could be weakened, they would +regain their lost power over Brabant. So they plotted and planned, heads +close together, as the night wore away. + +Toward morning a light glimmered in the apartments of the lovely Elsa. +Soon she appeared on the balcony singing a little song. + +Ortrud crept near and called to her. She called in a piteous tone, her +voice full of misery. She wept loudly and begged meekly for forgiveness. +She pretended a repentance for all her former misdeeds that she was far +from feeling. + +Elsa looked down and listened. When she beheld the once haughty Ortrud +clad in rags, on her knees, her heart melted. She held out her hands in +pity. That was just what the wicked Ortrud was waiting for. The rest was +easy. A few more tears, a little more make-believe penitence, and she +knew she would be forgiven. And sad to tell, it was so. Elsa, full of +love and new-found happiness, took Ortrud into her abode. She gave her a +splendid gown and allowed her to assist in the marriage preparations. +And the wicked Ortrud improved her opportunities. Artfully, she turned +the conversation to the approaching wedding, to the Stranger Knight who +had come by magic. Was not Elsa afraid that he would just as magically +disappear? But Elsa need not fear. Ortrud would always be her friend. + +Elsa tried to shake off the disquiet that Ortrud's words caused. But the +seed of suspicion was planted in her mind, and it grew, just as the +wicked Ortrud meant that it should. + +Meanwhile from his place behind the dark pillars of the cathedral, +Frederick had seen the first rosy streaks of dawn appear in the East. He +had heard the watchman in the tower give the signal of the new day, and +he had seen the answer flash from the distant turret. Rage overwhelmed +him. For he knew that Elsa's marriage morn had come. + +The sleeping palace awoke to life and activity. Servants hurried to and +fro preparing for the festival. The herald stepped forth followed by his +trumpeters four. They summoned the people, who came in gala array from +all sides. Groups of richly clad nobles walked proudly down the palace +steps and stood before the cathedral, waiting. All eyes were fixed upon +the balcony before the abode of the Duchess Elsa. + +All at once, a number of pages appeared there. They descended, two by +two, clearing the way to the cathedral steps and crying aloud: + + "Make way, make way, + Our Lady Elsa comes!" + +The crowd, hushed and expectant, fell back. Then, down the stairway, +across the balcony, came a long train of fair ladies. Their satin +dresses swept the ground. Bright jewels sparkled and flashed as they +advanced slowly toward the cathedral steps. There they halted, ranging +themselves on each side to allow the Duchess Elsa to pass between them. +She, the fairest of them all, walked alone. + +Her dress of richest brocade trailed its heavy folds behind her. Ropes +of pearls were about her neck, and bound her golden hair. Her head was +held high, and her face was more beautiful than anything else in the +world. For joy illumined it and made it shine like a star. Was she not +going to meet her Knight, him whom God had sent to defend her? + +Her foot was upon the lowest step. She was about to ascend to the +cathedral when she was rudely pushed aside. Ortrud had sprung forward, +crying,-- + +"Get back! I'll go first. My rank is higher than yours, and I shall not +walk behind you!" + +Elsa turned in astonishment. Was this the meek Ortrud who had come to +her begging forgiveness, pleading repentance? + +The people cried out in anger. But Ortrud, unheeding, went on: + +"My husband may be in disgrace, but he is greater than you all. He will +rule you yet. As for the husband you are to marry,--" and she looked at +the frightened Elsa,--"who is he? What is his rank? You dare not even +ask his name!" + +Poor Elsa protested. She tried to say that she did not care to know her +Swan Knight's name. Heaven had sent him, and she was content. His face +bore the stamp of noble birth, and she would always trust him. But her +voice faltered as she spoke. The seed of suspicion had taken root, and +dark doubts arose to torment her. + +At that moment, when the consternation was greatest, the King appeared +on the palace steps. With him, in proud array, were the good men and +true who had come to bear him company. And following them all was the +Swan Knight. His bearing seemed nobler than ever, as he trod proudly +forward to claim his bride. + +But when he saw the wicked Ortrud and the false Frederick, who by this +time had joined in denouncing him and questioning his name, his face +clouded. King Henry, also, seeing the strife, pressed forward through +the crowd, giving orders to push aside the wicked couple. + +The Swan Knight took Elsa tenderly into his arms for a moment, looking +deep into her eyes. Then, led by the King, the marriage procession +proceeded into the cathedral. + + +IV + +The wedding festival was over. With flaming torches held aloft and +joyous voices raised in song, the procession of ladies and nobles led +the bride and bridegroom to their flower-bedecked chamber. Then, +showering blessings upon them, they departed. The torchlights faded in +the distance; the sound of march and song grew faint. It died away. Elsa +and her Swan Knight were alone. + +There was a brief silence while they gazed at each other in rapture. +She, so lovely, was his inmost heart's desire. He, so brave, was the +beloved Knight of her dream. Their voices grew soft with happiness, and +on their faces was the glow of a deep joy. + +Too soon, however, at the sound of her name on her lover's lips, a shade +stole over Elsa's bright face. "Ah!" thought she, "I can never call him +by his name, for I shall never know what it is." Then, like a flash, all +of Ortrud's taunts came to her mind. And following them, all the dark +doubts, the vague suspicions, arose again to torment her. + +First she sat in moody silence. But soon a strange curiosity showed +itself in her speech. Would the fetters that bound the Swan Knight's +lips ne'er be loosened? Must she, his wife, always remain in ignorance? +If he loved her truly, he would surely whisper his secret ever so softly +into her ear. No one should ever know. She would guard the secret well, +locking it within her very heart. + +Thus she pleaded and begged, but the Swan Knight pretended not to hear +her. He spoke of other things, striving to distract her mind. + +But Elsa would not be put off. Her eyes were fixed upon the Knight, and +her face, but lately aglow with wonder and delight, was clouded with +unbelief and suspicion. + +The Knight was distressed by this sudden change. He reminded her gently +of the confidence that he had placed in her promise. He warned her +tenderly of the sorrows that would befall if she did not cease her +questioning. He had given up so much honor, yes, and glory besides, to +stay by her side. Would she not trust him utterly? + +Scarcely had Elsa heard the words "glory and honor" than a horrible fear +seized her. "He had come by magic," Ortrud had said, "and by magic he +would go." Now she knew how it would befall. Soon he would tire of her +and would return to the honor and glory from which he had come. Stricken +with terror, she fancied that she already heard the Swan coming to carry +him away. It was too much to bear! Cost what it might, she must learn +who he was. + +"Where do you come from?" she cried "Who are you?" + +"Ah, Elsa!" answered the Knight, sadly, "what have you done?" + +But before he could utter another word, Frederick of Telramund burst +into the room with drawn sword in hand. + +Elsa saw him first. She forgot her doubt. She forgot her question. She +thought only that the Swan Knight, her lover, was in danger. + +"Save yourself!" she shrieked. "Your sword, your sword!" She thrust it +into his hand. + +He drew it quickly. There was a short parry, one blow; and base +Frederick lay dead at the Swan Knight's feet. + +Then the Swan Knight turned to Elsa. His eyes were tender, but, oh, how +pitying! Their glance pierced Elsa's heart, and filled her with despair +for what she had done. His voice was sad as he bade her clothe herself +in bridal raiment and go before the King. There, on the morrow, he +would make fitting answer and tell her the rank he bore. And so saying, +he walked sorrowfully out of the flower-bedecked room. + +The next day dawned bright and clear. As was his wont, King Henry the +Fowler sat beneath the giant oak on the bank of the winding river +Scheldt. By his side stood the nobles from Saxony and Thuringia who had +come to bear him company. And before him were assembled the men of +Brabant, from north and south, from east and west, of the Duchy. + +Slowly, with measured strides, four men walked into their midst. They +bore the body of Frederick of Telramund on a bier, which they placed +before the King. + +The nobles looked anxiously at one another. What strange happening was +this? For, closely following, tottering feebly, came the Duchess Elsa +and her train of ladies. Solemnly they marched with eyes downcast, +while she, who but lately had been radiant with happiness, was sad and +pale. Her eyes, unseeing, stared in anguish straight ahead! + +The King stepped quickly forward. He looked inquiringly into her face as +he led her to a seat beside him. Elsa could not meet his eyes. She +moistened her lips twice, thrice, but no sound came. + +Just then a shout arose from the men: + + "Hail, all hail, + The hero of Brabant!" + +they cried. + +The Swan Knight entered. His armor glittered in the sunlight. A sword +hung at his side, a horn from his shoulder. How strong he was! How +brave! But how strangely sad was his face. He advanced, helmet in hand, +and stood before the King. Making a low obeisance, he strode toward the +bier of the dead Frederick. He uncovered the body, and then solemnly +asked the King's pardon for having killed this man who had stolen by +stealth upon him. + +"Nay, ask not our pardon!" spoke the just King. "We approve your deed!" + +And all the men of Brabant nodded in assent. + +But that was not all the Swan Knight had to tell. His wife, Elsa of +Brabant, had broken her promise. She had asked his name. And since it +was a law of the Order to which he belonged, he would make public answer +to her question. But then he must depart to the distant land from which +he had come. + +Astonishment spread like wildfire among the people. As for Elsa, she sat +like a creature of stone. Only Ortrud, who had crept near to listen, +smiled in ill-concealed triumph. + +The Swan Knight's face was suffused with holy light. The eyes of his +soul seemed to be peering far, far away into the distance beyond the +winding river, beyond the gray hills, perhaps to the very gates of +heaven itself. + +He told the tale of a marvelous Temple rising from the heights of +Mount Salvat, wherein, upon a mystic shrine, rested the sacred chalice +called the Holy Grail. He told of the few chosen knights who guarded the +wondrous Grail, and who, by its Heaven-given powers, were protected from +baneful harm and endowed with supernatural might. Whenever an innocent +cause needed a champion, whenever a grievous wrong had been done, one of +the knights sallied forth and defended the one who had been falsely +accused. But it was a law that no one might know from whence he came or +by what name he was called. For if once the truth were revealed, his +power was gone; the knight must hasten back to the Temple of the Grail. + +The Swan Knight's voice rose higher. Like some rare, sweet strain of +music, it fell upon the air: + + "The Grail obeying, here to you I came; + My father Parsifal, a crown he weareth, + His Knight am I and Lohengrin my name!" + +The shadow of a great awe crept into the eyes of all who heard. They +stared at Lohengrin in silence. + +Only Elsa sank moaning to the ground. Lohengrin caught her in his arms. + +"Oh, Elsa, dear one," he cried, "why did you strive to learn my secret? +Now I must leave you forever. Had you but remained faithful to your +promise for one year, even your brother Godfrey would have come back to +you. Here is my sword, my horn, my ring. Should he ever return, give +them to him. The sword will help him in battle, the horn will give him +aid in an hour of need, and the ring will remind him of Lohengrin, who +defended you. Now farewell! The Grail calls me. My swan is here." + +While he had been speaking, the snow-white swan, drawing the empty boat, +had glided quietly up the winding river. It stood at the shore. The +people gazed at it mournfully. Even Lohengrin greeted it in sadness. + +Suddenly the dark-haired Ortrud, who had been watching, approached the +shore. She leaned over the snow-white swan, and when she saw the golden +circlet about its neck, she laughed fiendishly. + +"It is he!" she cried. "It is Godfrey! My magic changed him into a swan, +and a swan he shall remain!" and she grinned exultingly at Elsa. + +Lohengrin, about to enter the boat, stopped at the sound of Ortrud's +voice. He listened a moment. Then he fell upon his knees and prayed, +while all the people waited breathlessly. + +His prayer was lifted up in silence and borne, who shall say where--to +what High and Holy presence? For as he prayed a white dove descended and +hovered over the boat. + +Seeing that his prayer was answered, Lohengrin rose to his feet +enraptured. He took the chain from the neck of the swan. The swan sank +into the water. And where it had been stood Godfrey, the rightful Duke +of Brabant. + +Elsa fell into her brother's arms with a glad cry. Then together they +watched Lohengrin enter his boat which, drawn by the dove, glided slowly +down the winding river, and out of mortal sight forevermore. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE FLYING DUTCHMAN + + +I + +A storm on the ocean is a fearful thing to see. It roars, it flashes, it +races huge waves mountain-high one after the other, it dashes them +furiously against the sharp rocks, it howls, it blows, and it tosses +great ships about as though they were tiny toys. + +Once, long, long ago there was just such a storm as this off the Cape of +Good Hope, that most southern point of Africa. For the Evil Spirit who +ruled the seas in those days, and who had many servants to do his +bidding, had ordered one of them, the Wind Storm, to sweep over the +waters far and wide. Perhaps the Evil Spirit wanted to add to the +treasures that he had gathered from all the ships he had +wrecked--treasures that he kept far beneath the water. + +At any rate, the Wind Storm did as he was told. He lashed the mighty +waves into anger so that they crashed against the jagged rocks of the +Cape, and all the ships that were abroad scudded swiftly along before +him in fear. + +"Go home," whistled the Wind Storm through the sails. "Go back to your +safe harbors. There is no room for you on this sea. I need it +all--all--all." + +And the ships scurried into their harbors--all but one. The captain of +that ship was not afraid of the Wind Storm nor of the Evil Spirit, +either, for that matter. His ship was strong, and so was his will. He +was determined to go around the Cape. He stood at the prow while the +ship rocked violently to and fro. The salt spray dashed over him, but +still he defied the Wind Storm. + +"I will not go back," he cried, and he swore a mighty oath. "I'll sail +on and round that Cape if I sail forever." + +Now the Evil Spirit happened to be lurking beneath the angry waters, +and he heard the oath. + +"Very well," cried he. "Sail on forever and ever, then! Sail on until +you find a maiden fair who will be willing to die for love of you!" + +And so it came to pass. Through all the long years that followed, the +ship sailed on and on. In fair or foul weather, over smooth or stormy +seas, under blue or gray skies, the strange voyage continued year after +year. + +Sometimes the captain in his despair would steer straight for the craggy +rocks, hoping to be dashed to pieces, but the rocks would not harm his +ship. He steered in the path of terrible pirates, but when the pirates +saw the ship, they crossed themselves and hurried away. The blustering +tempest would not harm it, nor the eddying whirlpool. It just sailed on +and on. + +The sailors, who had been young and lively, grew old and silent. Their +hearts were as gray as their heads, for though the days grew into +weeks, the weeks into years, the years into centuries, still there was +no rest for them. Their faces became as white as ghosts, and some say +that the blood left their bodies and crept into the sails. At any rate, +the strong, white ship turned black and weather-beaten, and the strong, +white sails, red, red as blood. + +Only the captain remained forever young and handsome, and each seven +years as the ship sailed into some harbor, he was allowed to go on shore +to seek the maiden fair who would deliver him and his crew from their +fate and set them at rest. But alas! no such maiden had he ever found. +Many maidens had he met and loved, and many had loved him, too, but to +be true to him forever and to die for him,--that was quite another +matter. + +And so each time "The Flying Dutchman" had gone on again, until once at +the end of a seven years' period he came to the coast of Norway. + + +II + +Heigho, heigho! sang the sailors of a gay Norwegian bark as they cast +anchor in a sheltered bay on the coast of Norway to escape the tempest, +which had been tossing them about on the open sea. What though the south +wind had driven them a few miles out of their course? The sunrise of +another day would find them safe at home after their long voyage. In +fancy, they could already see the dear ones on the shore, waving, +smiling, welcoming! So "heigho, heigho for to-morrow!" sang they. + +Only Daland, the captain, was full of gloom. Impatient was he, also, for +had he not expected to spend that very night by his own fireside with +his daughter Senta? And now to wait here, so near and yet so far, with a +raging sea between him and his peaceful home, was an ordeal, indeed. To +battle with those angry waves had been no easy task, either. A little +sleep would not harm him, thought he. + +Now you must know that in those days the seas were full of dread pirates +and bold robbers who prowled about seeking plunder, and so, before +Daland lay down to sleep, he called his steersman and bade him keep +sharp watch. The steersman did--for a little while. But he, too, was +tired. First he sang right lustily a merry song about the distant climes +where he had traveled, and of the kind winds that would send him back to +his sweetheart. Soon, however, his voice faltered; it grew fainter and +fainter. His head nodded once, twice. He, too, was asleep. + +Then, while no one watched, slowly, quietly, out of the west, came an +old weather-beaten vessel with red, red sails, straight into that very +bay. Only you and I know whence it came, and how endless had been its +wanderings. So silently did it sail, so ghostly were its movements, that +no one on all Daland's boat heard a single sound. No one heard the +noiseless dropping of the anchor, the lowering of those red, red sails. +Nor did any one hear the sigh of relief with which the worn sailors +crept away to their berths, nor see the hope and longing that lit their +pale faces as they saw their captain spring eagerly to the shore. + +Perhaps the captain stamped too heavily up and down on the wet sand, +glad to feel the solid earth under his feet once more. Perhaps he raised +his arms to heaven and cried aloud to God to help him now find the +maiden fair who would love him truly forever. Why, I do not know, but +just then Daland awoke with a start. + +A strange vessel alongside! How he chided the drowsy steersman! A +strange captain on the shore! Quickly he leaped to the sand to greet +him! + +"Whence come you?" asked Daland, "and whither are you going?" + +The Dutchman replied but little. "Holland," he said, "and a wanderer +seeking shelter for his vessel from the storm." Home he had none, nor +wife, nor child, and gladly would he pay of his treasures for one night +at somebody's hospitable hearth. + +And while Daland was marveling at this strange tale, and had begun to +tell of his own home so near and yet so far away, the stranger, at a +sign, had received a huge chest from his ship and was opening it before +Daland's eyes. + +If "all the wild flowers of the forest, all the lilies of the prairie," +all the glorious colors of sunrise and sunset, if the rainbow itself, +had been packed away in a chest to be suddenly opened before you, +perhaps you would have been surprised, too. Gold was there, and silver +was there, and the white sheen of pearls, and the bright sparkle of +diamonds, and the deep glow of rubies, all there dancing, glittering, in +Daland's astonished eyes. Was this some marvelous dream? When he found +that the treasure was real, he remembered Senta, and offered the +Dutchman his home for the night, telling him that his daughter ... + +The Dutchman caught the word "daughter." Had Daland a daughter? Would he +give her to him for a wife? And Daland, who had been thinking what a +fine husband such a man, with a ship full of treasures, would be for his +daughter, lost no time, and said yes. + +Then hope came again to the heart of the Dutchman. He was impatient to +see this maiden who, he silently prayed, might be the one to deliver him +from his fate. And while he prayed, the wind changed, the clouds broke, +a ray of sunshine peeped through, the sea became smooth as glass. + +"You'll see her this day," said Daland. + +And so, bidding the sailors raise anchor, Daland went aboard his boat, +the Dutchman aboard his, and with a heigho, heigho, they sailed out of +the bay. + + +III + +Daland's home stood, as a sailor's home should, near the sea. Through +its white-curtained windows one could see far out over the blue water, +to the broad horizon, where ships hovered like white birds against the +sky. + +Inside the house all was as sweet and clean as the willing hands of old +Marie, the house-keeper, could make it. The walls, rough and unpainted, +were almost covered with flat blue maps and sailor's charts, save where, +over the wide doorway, a single picture hung. + +It was the picture of a man; a man with a pale face, a long, black +beard, and strange, foreign-looking clothes. But I do not need to tell +you who he was. You know the story behind those melancholy eyes that +looked out so sadly from the picture. You have heard it this very day. + +Had you entered that sunny room on a certain afternoon long, long ago, +you would have seen a group of happy girls, under the direction of +Marie, all diligently spinning. And, had you stopped to listen, you +would have heard merry chatter and light-hearted snatches of song +mingled with the whir-r, whir-r, whir-r-r of those quick-turning wheels. +How they joked, and laughed, and sang, those girls of long ago! + +Did I say all? No, not all. For there was one who sat quite apart, her +idle hands in her lap, her young face uplifted, and her dreaming eyes +fixed on the portrait over the door. She was Senta, the daughter of +Daland. + +Once, when Senta was very young, old Marie had told her the history of +that pale man in the picture, and the sadness of his fate, and that of +his unhappy crew, had touched her tender heart. And, because she was an +imaginative girl, who fancied strange things, the picture of the Flying +Dutchman, wandering over unknown seas, came back to her mind again and +again. She thought of him by day; she dreamed of him by night. She even +began to imagine that God had destined her to be that maiden fair whose +love would deliver him from his mournful roaming. But certainly she +never breathed such a strange thought to a single soul. + +Until that day! Then, as all the busy girls laughingly teased her for +her idleness, and twitted her for being in love with a mere shadow +instead of with the real, strong, young hunter Eric, who wanted to marry +her, she grew impatient. To still their chatter, she cried out +fretfully: + +"Oh, girls, cease your foolish songs and your spinning! I am tired of +all the humming and buzzing. Do you want me to join you? Listen, and +I'll sing the ballad of the Flying Dutchman. Then you'll know why his +sad fate touches my heart." + +Senta began her singing. The girls stopped their wheels to listen, and +as they listened, their eyes grew round with wonder. They, too, pitied +the poor captain and his unhappy crew. But when Senta described these +aimless wanderings that nothing could change except that maiden fair who +would be willing to die for love, the girls interrupted her. + +"Oh!" cried they. "Where in all the world is there such a maiden?" + +"Here!" answered Senta, and she sang: + + "Angel above, oh! bring to me + The pale man sailing o'er the sea!" + +Do you wonder that all the girls, even Marie, started up in alarm when +they heard that strange prayer? No doubt they thought Senta had gone out +of her mind. Loudly they called, until Eric the hunter came running into +the room. He reasoned, he pleaded with Senta, but all in vain. She could +think of nothing but the story of the man whose picture hung on the +wall. + +Just when the excitement was greatest, a cry from without told of the +approach of Daland's boat. There was no time for foolish thoughts, then. +A meal must be prepared, the table set, the glasses filled! Away hurried +the girls and old Marie. + +In a moment Daland was at the door. Who was that pale visitor, so +strangely like the picture above his head, entering behind him? Senta +stared from one to the other. She could scarcely greet her father. She +knew at once who this stranger was, just as you know and as I know. But +Daland knew not. + +He, proud and happy, thinking of that ship full of treasures, lost no +time in telling Senta that this was the man he had chosen to be her +husband on the morrow, if she were willing. + +Senta was quite willing, for had she not loved this stranger for a long, +long time? As for the Flying Dutchman, he gazed into those trusting +eyes, and was filled with a great joy and a greater hope. Often when +tossed about on the cruel waves had he dreamed of a maiden just as +fair, just as pure as this one who now stood before him. If she would +but be constant, all would be well, thought he. And, as he gazed, he +heard her sweet voice saying, + + "Whoever thou art, whatever thy fate, + I will be thy love, I will be thy mate." + + +IV + +The marriage feast was quickly prepared. The jolly sailor boys, the +pretty peasant girls, all lent helping hands, and soon the merrymaking +on board the gayly lighted ship began. Only on the black ship with the +red sails was there darkness and silence. + +Suddenly a young girl walked hastily down to the shore. It was Senta, +the daughter of Daland, and closely following her, came Eric the hunter. +He begged her to hearken to his wooing once more. He pleaded with her to +give up that mysterious stranger who had come between them. Had she +forgotten all her promises? Must her father's rash command be obeyed? + +Because Eric was an old friend, and because Senta was a kind-hearted +girl, she listened patiently to all that he had to say. Not that a +single word could have altered her determination to live and to die, if +need be, for the Flying Dutchman. She loved him too well for that. + +Even while she listened to Eric, she thought tenderly of her new lover +and of how good God had been to allow her to be the maiden fair who +would relieve his endless suffering. + +Perhaps it was just that tender thought showing in her face that the +Dutchman mistook for regret. For, at that very moment, when Eric was +pleading so earnestly, and Senta was listening so patiently, the +Dutchman came down to the shore. + +He looked first at Eric, then at Senta, and like a flash came the +thought that here was another girl who would not keep her promise. +There had been so many like that. He did not stop to ask or to reason. +Frantic with disappointment and despair, he rushed blindly over the +rocks toward his ship. + +"To sea! To sea forevermore!" cried he. + +Now, you know Senta had not ceased loving him at all. So, although Eric +tried to detain her, she ran swiftly after the Dutchman. She clung to +him, crying out her love, and vowing eternal faithfulness again and +again. So loudly did she cry, that Daland and Marie came hurrying, too. + +The Dutchman managed to loosen her arms, to free himself. He waved her +back, and a great change came over his face. Gone were all thoughts of +himself and of his sad fate. He thought only of this pure maiden who was +willing to die for his sake. He knew now that he loved her too well to +let her pay such an awful price. Rather would he sail on and on +forever. + +Warning her not to come nearer, he leaped into his boat. Then, as the +gray sailors unfurled the red, red sails and the black ship plunged +forward, he stretched out his arms and told who he was. "The Flying +Dutchman am I, the Scourge of the Sea," he shouted. + +Daland, Marie, Eric, crossed themselves and looked after him in horror. +Not so, Senta. She had always known who he was. She would save him. She +would be faithful until death. With a glad cry, she leaped forward and +cast herself into the seething sea. + +The waves closed over her. And as they closed a strange thing happened. +At the very same moment, the black ship, the red sails, the sailors, all +disappeared. Only a rosy light lay over the water where they had been. +And in that rosy light, which ascended from the blue water to the blue +sky, were seen, in close embrace, the angel forms of the Flying Dutchman +and his maiden fair, floating onward and upward, toward their eternal +rest. + + + + +[Illustration: THE WARTBURG] + + + + +TANNHAEUSER, THE MINSTREL KNIGHT + + +I + +This is a tale of long ago. It is a tale of the days of knighthood and +minstrelsy; of the days when field and forest rang with the clash of +arms, and baronial halls echoed with the sound of harp and voice; when +brave knights vied with one another not only in jousts and tourneys at +arms, but in tournaments of song as well. + +In those strange days a majestic castle, called the Wartburg, stood on a +lofty peak overlooking the green and peaceful valleys of Thuringia. The +Landgrave Herman and his niece, the beautiful Princess Elizabeth, lived +there, and they were attended by a splendid court of nobles, knights, +and fair ladies. + +The Wartburg was the scene of many gay festivals. Time and again the +good people of Thuringia would gather from near and far to watch +gallant, armor-clad knights ride out with lance and spear to mimic +warfare. But more often they would gather within the great castle hall +to listen to the melodies of well-tuned harps and sweet-voiced singers +in tournaments of song. + +The white hand of the beautiful Princess placed the laurel wreath of +victory most often upon the brow of one bold young Minstrel Knight, +Tannhaeuser by name. His was the rarest gift of poetry, his the sweetest +voice. Nor was any one more beloved than he. His prowess in battle, his +skill with lance and spear, his fearless eye, had made him a favorite of +the Landgrave; while his noble bearing, the light touch of his fingers +upon the harp strings, and his clear young voice had won the heart of +the proud Princess. + +But Tannhaeuser, unmindful of these great gifts of fortune, had, in a +rash moment, quarreled with his companions. Angry beyond reason, +forgetful of both friendship and love, he had cast himself away from the +Wartburg, and had sought the solace of solitude. + +Opposite the Wartburg, black and foreboding against the blue of the sky, +like a giant of old, towered a mountain, the Horselburg. And thither, +sad to relate, the footsteps of the errant Minstrel Knight led the way. + +Now, it seems that when Venus, the Goddess of Love, was banished from +the earth, she hid herself away from the eyes of all righteous men, deep +within the heart of that very mountain, the Horselburg. Brooding over +her fancied wrongs, she lived there and plotted evil against mankind. +Her domain was a wonderful cave, all shadows and mystery; and her +subjects were strange creatures of the underworld. And, the story went, +from a couch of gold where she sat arrayed in richest garments, she +lured guileless wanderers through an unseen portal in the mountain +side, straight into her kingdom. And while her siren voice cast its +spell, while her fatal beauty wove its charm, the poor wanderer was +powerless. He followed, and followed, forever and a day, and knew not +where. But the face of the earth saw him no more. + +Do you wonder, with such a story abroad, that the Horselburg was shunned +by old and young? But what cared the bold Minstrel Knight for strange +goddesses or their powers? Tannhaeuser was clad in all the trappings of +knighthood; he had his armor, his lance; the harp of his minstrelsy hung +by his side. So he came to the foot of the Horselburg, dreamily, +heedlessly, but unafraid. + +Still, as he paused to rest beneath an over-hanging rock at the mouth of +a cave, he fancied that he heard the sound of rushing water. He started, +looking both to the right and to the left. There was no water to be +seen. A moment later the faint tinkle of bells fell upon his ear; then +the echo of a distant melody followed. He arose and peered into the +cave. His venturesome spirit prompted him to take one step +forward,--then another. Through the shadows he detected the glimmer of +many lights, now red, now violet, now blue. What was the rosy haze that +enveloped him? And the faint music that drew him on and on? A delicate +odor assailed his nostrils. A delicious languor overcame him. "Where am +I?" he called. But the only answer was the clang as of a closing door, +and the sound of a rippling laugh. A moment later, led by unseen magic, +blinded by light and overpowered by sound, he stumbled into a region of +enchantment, into the presence of Venus herself. + +A fascinating, bewitching goddess was Venus, and Tannhaeuser lingered at +her feet for a long time. Her magic drew a veil before his eyes, which +blinded and enthralled him. And he mistook the mocking cruelty of her +face for beauty and the lure of her glance for kindness and love. So he +played upon his harp and sang marvelous new songs to her and knelt +before her to pay her homage. He forgot all about the past, his +knighthood, his minstrelsy, his home, his friends. He even forgot his +God. + +Nymphs danced before him, elfin creatures made music for him, strange +flowers delighted his eyes, and all was an unceasing round of pleasure +day after day. There was no sun to shine, no moon, no stars. Spring +never came, nor winter. It was all as though the world had never been. + +Still there came a day at last when Tannhaeuser awoke. He awoke as if +from a dream. For a sound had pierced the very rocks and reached his +ears. It was the chime of distant church bells. + +Tannhaeuser ran his hand across his forehead and staggered to his feet. +He remembered. + +With the remembrance came a loathing and a longing that were pain. He +hated the perfume-laden mists about him, the strange flowers, and the +nymphs with their songs and endless whirling dances. He longed for a +breath of pure woodland air, for the sight of rain-freshened grass, for +the sound of the lark's song at dawn. + +So he seized his harp and sang to Venus and begged her to let him go +back to earth. + +"Oh, goddess," he implored, "let me go." + +But Venus only smiled a dreamy smile and spoke in soft whispers of the +charm of her domain. And the dancers circled about in a maddening whirl, +ever faster and faster. The odor of the strange flowers became still +heavier. Sparkling points of light gleamed among the shadows. A +mysterious blue lake appeared in the hazy distance, and misty clouds of +rose and gold floated in the air. + +But Tannhaeuser still remembered. He loathed the never-ending delights; +the ceaseless ease and rest; the songs, the odors, the mist. Ah! for +but a sight of Heaven's clear blue, its clouds and sun of noonday, its +moon and stars of night; the changing round of seasons, seed time and +harvest; the mingled joys and pains; and work, thrice-blessed work! + +Tannhaeuser took up his harp and sang to Venus once more. The strings +rang with the vigor of his touch; his voice soared high in +heart-stirring refrain. He promised that as long as he had life he would +sing the praises of Venus. Wherever he might roam, her name--and hers +alone--would bring a song to his lips. As her champion would he fare +forth upon the earth again. All this he promised, if she would only set +him free. + +Anger overwhelmed the goddess--but she hesitated no longer. Let him +spread her fame and name through the upper world that had banished her! +With one sweep of her arms she broke the chains of enchantment that +bound Tannhaeuser fast. Crying,-- + +"If all hope is lost, return to me!" she bade him depart. + +At that moment a terrific crash rent the air. It seemed as though the +earth had been burst asunder. The mists, the gleaming figures, the cave, +disappeared; and-- + +Tannhaeuser found himself lying on a grassy knoll in a sunlit valley. On +one side was the black and gloomy Horselburg; on the other a lofty peak +crowned by the Wartburg, stately, grand, majestic, as of yore. + +Flowers bloomed all about; the sky was serene and beautiful; birds sang; +a gentle breeze swayed the trees. + +From the cliff above came the sound of a pipe. A young shepherd was +watching his flock there, and he sang a tender little song, all +sweetness and melody. The simple beauty of it, the purity, touched +Tannhaeuser's heart, and as he listened his eyes filled with tears. + +Suddenly the sonorous tones of men's voices filled the air. Then down +the winding pathway and through the valley came the tramp, tramp, +tramp, of many feet. And to the solemn strains of a song of prayer a +band of pilgrims passed slowly by on the way to Rome to seek pardon for +their sins. The little shepherd bared his head until the last pilgrim +had passed him by. Then, waving his cap, he shouted: + +"God speed, God speed! Say one prayer for me!" + +But Tannhaeuser sat as one spellbound, until all at once, deeply +overcome, he fell upon his knees. Ah, where could _he_ look for pardon +for _his_ sins? The memory of all that ill-spent time in the Venusburg +rushed upon him. Could he pray to the God whom he had forgotten? Tears +choked his voice, and although a prayer arose from his heart it found no +utterance. He lay prone upon the ground, weeping bitterly. + +The song of the pilgrims, the measured tread of their feet, grew faint +and still fainter. It died away in the distance. Quiet ruled the +peaceful valley again, for even the shepherd boy had gathered his flock +and gone silently away. + +Soon, however, the cheery sound of hunters' horns and the answering bay +of dogs broke the silence. A moment later, a pack of dogs ran down the +forest path from the Wartburg, followed by the Landgrave Herman and his +Knights, all clad in hunting dress. + +Seeing the figure of a knight lying upon the ground, their curiosity was +at once aroused. One of the party, Sir Wolfram, ran hastily forward. A +single glance was enough. + +"Tannhaeuser!" he cried. "Is it you?" + +Tannhaeuser arose hastily, striving to control his emotion and bowed +mutely to the Landgrave. + +At first the Knights were uncertain whether he had come back as friend +or foe. But his humble, downcast looks soon spoke for him. So they +welcomed him gladly into their midst. + +But Tannhaeuser was loath to stay. He knew that if once the Knights +learned where he had been, they would shrink from him in horror. Looking +into their friendly faces, he was overwhelmed with disgust for all that +wicked time in the Venusburg. He longed to fly from their sight. + +Since he would not listen to the entreaties of the Landgrave and his +Knights, Sir Wolfram, Tannhaeuser's old friend, added his plea: + +"Have you forgotten Elizabeth?" he asked. + +"Elizabeth!" Tannhaeuser exclaimed in a tone of awe,--Elizabeth, the +beautiful Princess, whose name he had forgotten--what of her? + +Then Wolfram, speaking softly,--for he loved the beautiful princess +also,--told Tannhaeuser all. He told of that rare prize--the Princess's +love--which had remained constant during Tannhaeuser's long absence. Many +Knights had striven to win her, but she had remained true to the one who +had gone away. While Tannhaeuser had strayed in distant lands, she had +stayed in her bower saddened and alone, never gracing the tournaments +with her presence, never coming forth to witness joust or tourney. Would +he forsake a love like that? + +Deeply touched, Tannhaeuser listened until the end. Then the light of a +great joy and a great hope illumined his face. If Elizabeth, the proud +Princess, had not forgotten him, perhaps he might still continue as a +Minstrel Knight in the Wartburg. + +"Lead me to her," he cried,--"to her." + +So the Landgrave sounded his horn, and to the lively baying of the dogs +and the joyous song of the Knights the whole party proceeded to the +Wartburg. + + +II + +When the news of Tannhaeuser's return spread through the Wartburg, there +was great rejoicing. Smiles of gladness appeared on every face. Tall +knights held out hands of welcome; small pages hastened to do him honor. +Him whom they should have loathed, they greeted as a comrade, hailed as +a hero. For they knew not where he had been. + +And the joy of the Princess Elizabeth surpassed that of all the rest. +Misery vanished from her face. Delight took its place. All her years of +sadness were forgotten, and as she entered the Hall of the Minstrels, a +song of joy sprang unbidden from her lips. Had not the knight to whom +she had given her heart returned from his wanderings in foreign lands? +And would he not take his place among the minstrels as of old in a +Tournament of Song on that very day? His melodious harp and his rich +voice would ring out once again, and hers would be the hand to crown him +with the wreath of victory. + +The Princess smiled happily as she walked through the great hall and +joined her uncle, the Landgrave, upon the throne. The Landgrave watched +her approach, and his face beamed with pride. Was there ever a more +beautiful Princess? Her lovely face was aglow. Her eyes shone with a +luster as deep as that of the jewels about her neck. Her skin was fairer +than the lilies that she held in her hand. From the shining tresses of +her hair where a little golden crown sent out glittering sparks of light +to the last heavy fold of silvery satin that trailed behind her, she was +a creature to be honored, to be reverenced, to be loved. + +"How glad I am to have you at my side once more!" whispered the +Landgrave as they made ready to receive the nobles and fair ladies who +had been bidden to the contest. For already the measured tread of many +feet was heard in the distance. + +Presently through the pillared doorway, to the sound of martial music +and the fluttering of flags, the guests entered the hall, and in stately +procession approached the throne. Then, after a bow from the Landgrave +and a word of greeting from the Princess, the pages led each to a place +in the huge semicircle of seats that half filled the hall. + +When all had arrived, the Landgrave arose, and, turning first to his +guests and then to the Minstrels who were seated on low benches facing +them all, made his address of greeting. He told of the many song +festivals that had been held within the ancient hall, and how +each had added to the fair fame of the nation. Many deeds, many +emotions, had been celebrated in song, said he, but the sweetest of +all--Love--remained--and would be the theme of that day's contest. + +The minstrel who could sing most worthily about love would receive +love's prize as a reward--the hand of Elizabeth, the Princess. + +"Up then, arouse ye! sing, O gallant minstrels! attune your harps to +love! Great is the prize." + +A great shout of approval marked the end of the Landgrave's speech. + +"Hail, all hail, Lord of Thuringia!" cried hundreds of voices. + +When all was still, two little pages carried a golden cup containing the +names of the singers to the Princess. She drew one folded paper and +handed it to the pages. They read the name and then advanced to the +middle of the hall. In high, clear voices they called out,-- + +"Sir Wolfram von Eschenbach, begin!" + +There was a short pause while Sir Wolfram rose to his feet. Tannhaeuser +sat, as if in a dream, leaning upon his harp. His eyes strayed through +the open doorway far across the peaceful valley to the dark and gloomy +mountain beyond. And though an inner voice whispered: "Turn away your +eyes, Sir Knight! 'Tis the abode of evil to which your thoughts are +wandering. Have a care, or magic power will rule you again!" he heeded +it not. + +But the eyes of Wolfram sought the pure face of the Princess on the +throne. His hands evoked a tender, rippling strain from the harp--and he +began to sing. + +He sang a quiet song of unselfish love, pure love, which doubts not and +trusts ever; which gives more than it seeks. + +He sang of a love, half sacrifice, wholly devotion--which asks nothing, +wants nothing, but gives, always gives. His song fell like a gentle +prayer upon the ears of his listeners. + +"Bravo!" they cried, when he had finished. "You have done well, Sir +Wolfram. Bravo!" + +And they clapped their hands and nodded in approval, whispering and +smiling at one another. All but Tannhaeuser. His face had changed. It had +become angry, impatient, defiant. This gentle strain that spoke of +endless devotion and sacrifice; was that love? No, no. He arose +abruptly. He seemed to be looking beyond the familiar hall and the +well-known faces, to some unseen vision of delight. An uncanny smile +played about his lips. He touched the harp strings, and they jangled +with strange harmonies. The people were startled, alarmed. They half +rose from their seats. Was it madness that inspired the knight? Ah! if +they but knew. + +Tannhaeuser, heeding naught, lifted his voice and sang. And while he +sang, the spell of enchantment enmeshed him again. Rose-colored mists +swam before his eyes and blinded him. He heard the far-off strains of +music, he saw the dancing figures, and a siren voice urged him on. He +thought of endless pleasure, ceaseless delight. Again he forgot work, +thrice-blessed work. He forgot the ancient hall; he forgot the pure +presence of Elizabeth; he forgot his God. He sang a wicked song, an evil +song, a song of sinful pleasure, a song of Venus. He had vowed that he +would sing her praises forevermore. Now he would keep his word. His +voice soared high in a wild hymn of praise. + +"Would you know love?" he cried, flinging aside his harp and stretching +out his arms: + +"Fly to Venus. She can teach you!" + +His words struck the people like a thunder-bolt and left them stunned, +horrified. Suddenly, like a wave of anger, arose the tumult of cries. + +"Listen! Hear him! Oh! Most horrible! He has been in the Venusburg." + +The ladies hurried in consternation and affright from the hall. Only +Elizabeth stood, pale and trembling, leaning against the throne. All her +delight was turned to misery once more. + +The Landgrave, the minstrels, the nobles, gathered together and gazed +with horror upon Tannhaeuser, who, oblivious of all save the evil vision, +gazed enraptured, straight ahead. + +The horror of the men soon gave way to indignation, the indignation in +turn to fury and hatred. As from one throat, a mighty shout went up,-- + +"Kill him!" + +And with one accord they drew their swords and pressed upon Tannhaeuser +to slay him. But at that instant a white figure with trailing draperies +rushed toward them. She threw herself before Tannhaeuser, shielding him +with her body. It was Elizabeth, the Princess. + +"Stop," she cried. "Stay your hands!" + +The men fell back in amazement as she fell upon her knees before them. +She, the proud Princess, most cruelly wronged, would she shield one who +had fallen so low? + +Yes, she would shield him, even with her life. He had sinned. Ah, how he +had sinned! But he had sinned against God, and God must be his judge. +Who were they to judge him and deny him the opportunity to repent? Would +they rob his soul of its eternal peace? Thus she pleaded and begged for +Tannhaeuser's life, while tears rained down her white cheeks. + +The men were touched. Anger slowly gave way to calm. One by one they +sheathed their swords and turned toward the Landgrave. + +Meanwhile Tannhaeuser, at the sound of Elizabeth's pleading voice, turned +his head. As though just awakened from an evil dream, he stared at her +kneeling figure, the drawn swords, the horror-stricken faces. Suddenly +he remembered all that he had said, all that he had done. The enormity +of his sin rushed upon him. He realized how he had outraged friendship, +love, religion, all that was holy, pure, and good. In fearful contrition +he fell upon the floor, sobbing and crying out in his misery and +distress. Where could he look for pardon now? + +Suddenly, through the open doorway, there came the sound of the song of +the pilgrim band on its way to Rome. It was a song of prayer and praise, +a song of repentance and confession, a song of peace with God. It +brought hope and a promise of comfort. + +Silence filled the great hall as the notes died away in the distance. +Only Elizabeth's face, white and pleading, was lifted toward the +Landgrave's in silent prayer. + +The Landgrave gazed at Tannhaeuser's bent figure, and feelings of pity +mingled with the loathing he felt. Advancing solemnly toward Tannhaeuser, +he bade him arise and join the band of pilgrims now on its way to Rome. +No other way was open to one who had sinned as he had sinned. And, if +after confession, he was pardoned for his grievous wrong, he might +return to the Wartburg. Otherwise they never wished to see him again. + +At these words Tannhaeuser sprang to his feet. The echo of the pilgrim's +voice still lingered in the air. He listened a moment while a ray of +hope illumined his anguish-stricken face. Then with a cry "To Rome! To +Rome!" he hastened from the room. + +[Illustration: TANNHAEUSER AT THE BIER OF ELIZABETH +(After a painting by Von Kaulbach)] + + +III + +The road to Rome was rough and thorny, beset with hardship, fraught with +suffering. But Tannhaeuser, full of new-found hope, wholly repentant, +longing for pardon, pushed eagerly onward. No pilgrim was of humbler +mien, nor was any of more contrite spirit. The thought of Elizabeth's +devotion and her prayers dispelled all his former pride of sin, and made +the hardships of the journey seem all too light for his remorseful soul. +When other pilgrims sought smooth pathways through meadow and valley, he +trod unshod amid rocks and thorns. When they refreshed their lips at +cool mountain springs, he continued hungry and thirsty on his way. Snow +and ice did not daunt him, nor the scorching rays of the sun, nor the +tempest's roar. He gave of his life blood freely and faltered not. The +other pilgrims found shelter and rest in hospices high up among the +mountains. He made his bed in the drifting snow, the ice, the cold. Lest +the beauty of Italy delight his eyes, he went blindfolded over its +vine-clad hills, through its blooming meadows. For his heart burned with +penitence, and his soul ached for pardon. + +Thus the weeks lengthened into months, and a long year went by. At last +the chime of bells was heard in the distance; the white towers of Rome +were outlined against the blue Italian sky. + +Weary and footsore, the pilgrims crept one by one to the holy shrine, +and, one by one, each was told that his sins would be forgiven and was +bidden to go rejoicing on his way and sin no more. + +Finally Tannhaeuser's time came. With a cry of relief he prostrated +himself before the throne and confessed his awful sin, his wasted years, +his deep repentance. He had dwelt in an unholy place, he had been the +slave of sinful pleasure, he had blasphemed his God,--but awakening had +come at last. Was there pardon for such as he? + +The first solemn words of answer with their accents of horror brought +Tannhaeuser to his feet in terror. As in a dream he listened. No. There +could be no pardon for such a sin. He was pronounced accursed +forevermore. + +The judgment continued: + + "As this barren staff I hold + Ne'er will put forth a flower or a leaf + Thus shalt thou never more behold + Salvation or thy sins relief." + +Tannhaeuser heard no more. Hopeless and despairing, he staggered wildly +from the room and away into the darkness. What mattered it which way he +wandered--now, since he was an outcast and accursed forever? Ah, to find +a path that would lead to forgetfulness! + +The pilgrims had already gone on their way homeward to Thuringia. From +out of the distance, their joyous song of praise fell upon the air. +Tannhaeuser took up his staff and followed in their wake, hopeless and +alone. + +Meanwhile throughout the long year the Princess Elizabeth had waited and +prayed day after day. And Sir Wolfram, watching her devotion from afar, +had grieved to see her body become weak with pain, and her face white +and drawn with sorrow and suffering. + +At last there came a day when, kneeling at her shrine on the forest +path, the sound of the pilgrims' return broke in upon her prayers. + +"They have come back!" she whispered as she rose to her feet. + +The song, the steady tramp of feet, grew louder and louder. On and on +came the pilgrims. And, singing of God's goodness and His divine grace, +they passed Elizabeth and Wolfram, one by one. But he for whom she had +prayed was not among them. He had not returned. He had not been +forgiven. Her prayers had been in vain. All her strength was gone. With +a last look at the valley lying peaceful, in the glow of early eventide, +and with a farewell glance at Sir Wolfram, she passed wearily upward +toward the castle. + +Night fell. The sky grew dark with clouds save where, over the Wartburg, +a single star hung. Suddenly, through the gloom, a dejected and footsore +wanderer made his way. It was Tannhaeuser. + +As his eyes fell upon the familiar scene, and upon Sir Wolfram, in +knightly array, all his misery rushed upon him anew. Oh, if he could but +find the path that led to forgetfulness, the path of pleasure, the path +to Venus! In the days of his care-free youth, it had been but a step, +but now, laden with sin, weighted with the knowledge of evil, bowed with +repentance and suffering, his feet would not lead him there. With a loud +cry he stretched forth his arms and called,-- + +"Venus, goddess, do you hear my call?" + +Suddenly the roseate light, the same alluring sounds of music, the same +sweet odors, enthralled him again. Venus, reclining upon her couch, +appeared amid the rosy clouds. + +"Take me!" cried Tannhaeuser, rushing forward to throw himself beside +her. + +At that moment, the slow and solemn chant of a funeral dirge sounded +from afar. Tannhaeuser started. His arms fell by his side. He turned his +head. Down the path from the Wartburg, the Knights were bearing a bier. +Lighted torches were at the head, the foot. A bell was tolling. Voices +were singing in praise of Elizabeth, the beautiful Princess, who had +gone to join the angel band, the fairest angel of all the host. + +"Ah! Elizabeth!" exclaimed Tannhaeuser. With a despairing cry, he +staggered toward the bier. Ah, yes, it was she, she who had prayed for +him, she who had loved him more than he knew. Better death beside her +than life in sin! Bending over Elizabeth's body, he sank slowly to the +ground, and God took him home. + +For it is said that not long afterward the barren staff of the head of +the church blossomed and put forth leaves of green. And thus the Lord in +His mercy forgave Tannhaeuser, the sinner, and entered him into the +Kingdom of Heaven. + + +Printed in the United States of America. + + + + + * * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + + In the Table of Contents, Page 155 has been changed to the correct + page, 156. + + Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from + the original. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT OPERA STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 38654.txt or 38654.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/8/6/5/38654 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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