and Siegfried approaches with Mime. This is the giant's lair, where Siegfried, if ever, is to learn to tremble. Mime beats a retreat into the wood, and Siegfried is left to his meditations, more tuneful, we are glad to find, than those of the dwarf's. It has become quite light; the wood is awakening to life, and the birds are singing all around him. Siegfried is reminded of old tales of men who acquired the power of interpreting the songs of their feathered friends. He wishes now that he had this gift, and cuts himself a pipe of reeds to try to imitate their notes. Failing in this, he puts his hunting horn to his lips, and sounds loud a merry tune that rouses the giant from his sleep. Forth comes Fafner in the guise of a terrible dragon. But no appearance, how monstrous soever, can intimidate Siegfried. They fight, Siegfried of course making short work of his adversary. But Fafner, in dying, acknowledges that the curse that attaches to the ring has fallen upon him, and bids the victor take warning. Siegfried, in withdrawing his sword, has stained his hand with the dragon's blood. Involuntarily he puts his finger to his lips. The fiery liquid has a magic virtue, and the instant he has tasted it the language of the birds becomes intelligible to him.

What follows is exceedingly fanciful. He hears on the lime tree overhead a bird singing to him, and telling him of the treasures that lie in Fafner's cave; above all, of the ring and its value. Siegfried descends into the cave to look for them, whereupon Alberich and Mime. come forth from their hiding-places, and these amiable brothers, finding Fafner safely slain, begin to dispute and wrangle as to which of them shall be master of his hoard. As Siegfried is seen returning, they slink back out of sight. Siegfried comes out of the cave with the

helmet in his belt and the ring on his finger. Again the woodbird warbles to him, bids him beware of Mime, and listen hard to what he will say when he reappears, for the dragon's blood Siegfried has tasted will enable him to hear his enemy's thoughts as if they were spoken aloud.

So the dwarf, when presently he returns, finds himself in a kind of Palace of Truth. In answer to Siegfried's questions, he confesses, unconsciously, his treachery and murderous intentions. At last he offers him drink that is drugged, and this, and his design to kill him in his sleep, he reveals in the plainest language. Whereupon Siegfried, with one stroke of his sword, lays him dead upon the ground.

We will venture to say that few will regret this dwarf, whose harsh nature is faithfully-all too faithfully, some may think-depicted in the lingering discords long drawn out that seldom fail to accompany his appearance on the scene.

No

Siegfried is now quite alone under the lime tree. Once more his ear is caught by the wood warbler. The bird cheers him in his solitude by singing to him about the most beautiful woman in the world, who lies fast bound in slumber on a distant mountain top. Siegfried-who has never even seen a woman-is caught by the tale as if by enchantment, and listens eagerly. coward, he hears, can ever hope to cross the flames that surround this sleeping beauty, Brunnhilde, and win her, but only the man to whom fear is unknown. Siegfried feels that he is the hero elect, and in exultation swears to find his way to the spot. The woodbird flutters from the tree, and flies off, as it were, to guide him in the right direction. Siegfried follows after, and the curtain falls.

The Waldvogel,' it will be seen, is really quite an important cha

racter. We ought, perhaps, to have included him in the list of dramatis persona, as, having to speak in human language, his part has to be sung for him by a human being behind the scenes. It is intended for a boy's voice. Fantastic though the whole idea may seem, the way in which it has been worked out, musically, is novel, pretty, and ingenious, and we see no reason why the wood bird should not have a great success, and share the honours of the evening with the rest.

The third act opens with a mysterious scene between Wotan and Erda. The god appears in thunder and lightning, and wakes the mother of all wisdom from her long sleep. He tells her what has befallen her daughter Brunnhilde, of Siegfried's achievements, triumphs over the envious dwarfs, and high destiny. The hero will wake Brunnhilde, and Brunnhilde is to save the world by her deed. So Mother Earth is sunk into sleep again, and Siegfried approaches. Led on by the bird, he has found his way at last to the spot where the sleeping maiden lies. The Wanderer confronts him, and questions him as to his history and designs. Siegfried shows no more respect for the mysterious stranger than he entertained for the dwarf, but disregards and defies him, till Wotan, in high indignation, pre sents his spear that, for the second time, it may shiver the famous sword. But Siegfried, nothing daunted, fights like fury, and revenges Siegmund's death by smashing in pieces the divine spear. Wotan, utterly worsted, vanishes, and Siegfried is left master of the field. The enchanted flames glow before him till the whole stage is filled, as it were, with a sea of fire. Siegfried rushes into the midst of them, and we hear the echoes of his horn as he fearlessly climbs the mountain. Then the flames are gradually extinguished; it is daylight again, and before us lies the

scene we beheld in the last act of the Walküre. Siegfried perceives a figure lying in a deep sleep under the fir-tree-a figure in mail armour, helmeted, and covered with a shield.

He uplifts the warrior's shield, then the helmet. Lastly, he cuts through the rings of mail, and to his surprise and ecstasy sees Brunnhilde, a beautiful woman in soft white drapery. Enamoured at the sight, he presently wakes her with a kiss. The love scene that follows may be conjectured-the enthusiasm with which Brunnhilde hails her deliverer, and Siegfried his first love. The Amazon has, however, only broken the bonds of sleep to yield herself to another kind of slavery, and laments awhile her immortal nature, the glorious position she has forfeited. Love is triumphant, however, and she wildly exclaims that Walhalla and the whole race of the gods may go to darkness. She cares not, if Siegfried and Brunnhilde are one.

So with this rapturous duet the opera concludes. Certainly Brunnhilde, in spite of her martial education, shows from first to last a woman's heart, and a very soft one, under her coat of mail, and should be a thoroughly sympathetic heroine. Siegfried, the lover, who chooses bears for his playfellows, who demolishes a giant with not much trouble, and even overcomes Wotan himself, is, on the other hand, a new rôle for operatic tenors. The physique necessary for the impersonation is not such as one is accustomed to associate with the race. He need be a tenore robusto in every sense of the word fitly to fill this, perhaps the most arduous, part in the Trilogy.

IV

THE concluding portion of the Trilogy, 'Götterdämmerung,' 'Twilight of the gods,' is preceded by a prologue. The scene lies, as in

the last act of 'Siegfried,' among the rocky Walküren mountains. It is night, and here we see the three Nornen or Fates of German mythology, weird sisters, daughters of Erda, partakers of her wisdom, and imparters thereof to Wotan, sitting spinning the golden thread and singing songs of destiny. They tell of terrible things that have befallen the immortals of late-how Wotan, returning to Walhalla with his shivered spear, set his heroes at work to hew in pieces the world's ash Ygdrasil. The wood now lies heaped up in piles round the palace of the gods, who sit, within, awaiting helplessly their destruction by fire. The thread the Nornen are spinning breaks at last, an ominous portent that their mission is ended too, and that the day of their wisdom is done.

So they vanish, and, as the morning dawns, Siegfried approaches with Brunnhilde. The moment has come for them to say farewell. Siegfried, as befits a hero of his reputation, must needs sally forth to distinguish himself by fresh doughty deeds, and Brunnhilde, an Amazon no longer, remains meanwhile safe on the flame-encircled mountain. As a parting gift and pledge of love Siegfried presents her with the magic ring, which Brunnhilde swears to treasure faithfully as a sacred token of their

union.

The drama introduces us to three new personages-Gunther, son of Gibich, a hero of great possessions on the banks of the Rhine, and in whose castle the scene is laid; his sister Gudrun; and a half-brother of theirs, Hagen, bastard offspring of their mother Grimhilde by the dwarf Alberich. Hagen inherits all his father's infamous qualities. By means of him, Alberich intends yet to work out his revenge, to consummate the ruin of Walhalla and the gods, of Siegfried and the world, and to assure the supremacy

of the Niebelungen by gaining possession of the ring.

Hagen sets to work to bring this about. Both Gunther and Gudrun are unmarried. Siegfried's fame,

to

as a hero, has reached their ears, but of Brunnhilde and his wooing of her they know nothing. Hagen, who knows everything, fires the imagination of the brother by a description of Brunnhilde, a certain matchless beauty, dwelling on a fire-girt mountain top-of the sister by praise of Siegfried's valour. Gudrun doubts her power enamour the hero, but Hagen reminds her of an enchanted drink, of which the Gibichungen have the secret, and which has the effect of instantly effacing from the memory of the man who tastes it every lovely woman he has ever before beheld. A few drops of this will cause Siegfried to forget all his old loves; Gudrun will have the field to herself. At this point Siegfried's horn is heard, and the hero arrives at the castle. He has come desirous to measure arms with Gunther, of whose prowess he has heard so much. The Gibichungen give him. a royal reception, but presently Gudrun offers him the enchanted cup. And Siegfried, having tasted it, loses all recollection of Brunnhilde, and listens to the mention of her name and to the story of Gunther's desire to win her for his wife as though she were a stranger to him. More than this, he straightway falls in love with Gudrun, and to obtain her hand agrees to aid her brother in his wooing. For only Siegfried the dauntless can approach and carry off Brunnhilde through the flames that protect her. But, by means of his enchanted helmet, Siegfried proposes to assume Gunther's form, and, thus metamorphosed, to cross the fire and carry off the bride for his friend. He and Gunther therefore take the solemn oath of brotherhood according to the olden rite,

and depart together on their expedition.

The second scene brings us back to Brunnhilde's mountain, and we find her cherishing the love-token left by Siegfried, the ring. A strange visitant comes upon her in her solitude-Waltraaute, one of her former sister Walküren, who is here on a solemn errand. The ring Brunnhilde holds is the cause of the evil at present threatening Walhalla. Heaven and earth are in the utmost danger, but they may yet be saved if Brunnhilde will consent at once to restore the ring to its first owners, the daughters of the Rhine. Brunnhilde vehemently refuses to part with Siegfried's gift for any imaginary consideration. So the Walküre rides off again in despair, and presently Brunnhilde hears the distant echoes of Siegfried's horn. Eagerly she looks for his approach, and is appalled to see instead a stranger apparently, calling himself Gunther the Gibichung, and claiming her for his bride. It is Siegfried of course, but, thanks to his helmet, transformed and unrecognizable. Brunnhilde, to her horror, finds herself in his power, and to complete her despair the newcomer forces from her the precious ring. With which mystification the first act concludes. The whole of the second act takes place within the halls of the Gibichungen. Alberich comes by night to give good advice to his son, Hagen. The Niebelungen have now but one dangerous enemy to dread, Siegfried. The gods, since the breaking of Wotan's spear, are helpless. Now Siegfried recks little of the all-powerful ring he has won, and Alberich is bent on his death and on wresting the treasure from him. For were Siegfried ever to restore the ring to the Rhine the last hope of the Niebelungen would be destroyed.

Hagen is both ready and willing to fulfil the work of darkness he

has begun. Siegfried presently returns from his successful enterprize. Gunther is following with the hapless Brunnhilde-to whom Siegfried has faithfully transferred his prize without Brunnhilde becoming aware that the so-called Gunther who bore her away at first is not the same who now carries her home a prisoner.

When the two latter arrive, Hagen summons the retainers, and awaits the opportunity to fire the train now laid which is to bring about Siegfried's death. Brunnhilde, on being led in and confronted with Siegfried, claims his love as her rightful possession, and points to the ring on his finger as a proof. A fearful suspicion is thus spread among the men-at-arms that Siegfried has betrayed their master, and whilst professing to woo a bride for Gunther obtained her for himself. Siegfried, whose memory is still a blank, protests in all sincerity that she is raving, and swears his innocence on Hagen's spear-wishing that it may transfix him if her words are true, and Brunnhilde has to see her husband acknowledged as Gudrun's bridegroom. But the conviction that Siegfried has broken his oath of brotherhood remains in Gunther's mind, and, when Siegfried, Gudrun, and the retainers have gone off to the marriage feast, he and Brunnhilde are left thirsting for vengeance on the man they believe to have betrayed them both. Hagen then comes forward to urge them on, and they agree that nothing but Siegfried's death can adequately avenge their mutual wrongs. Hagen undertakes to do the deed, but at present he knows not how, as Brunnhilde, when she gave Siegfried her love, gave him yet another heavenly gift-that of a charmed life. The hero is invulnerable. But Brunnhilde, no longer desirous to shield her perjured lover, confesses that, as Siegfried was never known to turn his back to the enemy, she

left him vulnerable there, and there Hagen vows to stab him to avenge the friend and the bride Siegfried has brought to shame.

The train is thus laid for the catastrophe which falls in the final act. The first scene is on the wooded banks of the Rhine. The three Ondines whom the reader will remember in Rheingold,' reappear at their songs and sports in the river. Siegfried's hunting horn is heard, and, when he approaches, alone, the maidens do their very best to get back from him their lost ring which, as stated above, Siegfried took from Brunnhilde when he came to her in Gunther's shape, and which he still wears on his finger. Coaxing and threats. on their part are alike of no avail. Siegfried, on whom the doom that follows the fatal possession is about to fall, will not give up his prize. He is presently joined by the rest of the hunting party, Gunther, Hagen, and their retainers. Siegfried, unsuspicious of any designs upon him, sits down with them to a hunter's meal. He is in particularly good spirits, and begins to tell them the whole story of his life, of his birth, his youthful days in the woods with Mime, his famous sword, victory over the giant, the means whereby he obtained his famous helmet and ring, Mime's treachery and its punishment. Having got so far, his memory fails. But here Hagen pours into his drinking horn a certain liquid, the sap of a plant, saying it will refresh his recollection, and all at once the hero recalls that in the past which he has so long forgotten. And, to the utter consternation of Gunther, Siegfried proceeds with his history, and relates how he sought Brunnhilde and made her his wife or ever the son of Gibich had heard her name.

Hagen chooses this moment to call off Siegfried's attention to two ravens that are flying about over his head. The hero, still unsus

picious, rises to look at them, thus turning his back to Hagen, who stabs him suddenly. Siegfried falls mortally wounded, and dies with Brunnhilde's name on his lips. Hagen for the moment justifies his deed in the minds of those present by proclaiming it the just reward of perjury.

The last scene of all is in the Gibichungen halls again, which open down to the very borders of the Rhine. Gudrun, who hom the first has known nothing of the suspicions resting on Siegfried or of the plots against his life, is anxiously awaiting his return from hunting. The party arrive, but bearing in the body of Siegfried, slain. Gudrun is inconsolable, and even Gunther begins half to repent the deed at which he has connived. Then Hagen comes forward, and, as the slayer of Siegfried, claims the ring as his right. Gunther demands it as Gudrun's heritage, and the two brothers draw their swords upon each other. Gunther falls, and Hagen attempts to snatch the ring from Siegfried's finger, when, to the horror of all, the dead hand raises itself with a threatening gesture, which appals and intimidates everybody. And now Brunnhilde, who, from all that has gone before, understands at last the treason of which both she and her husband have been the victims, advances and enlightens poor Gudrun. The latter learns now, for the first time, that Brunnhilde was the one whose beauty and love Siegfried, by means of the charmed drink given to him, was forced to forget.

The retainers, at Brunnhilde's command, prepare the hero's funeral pile on the river's brink in front of the castle. Brunnhilde will not survive her husband. Her love determines her to join him in death; the same flames shall consume them both. The whole concludes with her solemn farewell. At the last she draws the ring from