[[#48]] Alberich and Fafner transformed into a fearful serpent through the Tarnhelm's Wonder
Commonly known as the “Dragon Motif,” or “Serpent Motif” - Wagner’s metaphor for man’s fear of death, and the more abstract, existential fear of truth, the primary motives behind man’s involuntary invention of the gods, who assuage man’s fear through the promise of immortality to mortal man
(#48 basis of #49; related to #35, #42, #48, and #154)
[see #47 for #48 Embryo’s dramatic context. See below for #48’s first definitive entry:]
“Loge: (#33b Vari) Who’d not be struck with wonder on learning of Alberich’s work? If your marvelous guile can achieve what you claim with the hoard, as the mightiest of men I must hail you: [[ (#@: B) Arrogance of Power Motif: #20b/#33b ]] for the moon and the stars and the beaming sun, they too have no choice but to serve you. [[ (#@: B) Arrogance of Power Motif: #20b/#33b) ]] (#41) Yet I think it important above all else that those who heap up the hoard, the Nibelung army, should bow before you ungrudgingly. A ring you boldly flourished (#19); (#41) trembling, your people shrank before it: (#19 Varis plus #42 Varis) But what if a thief crept upon you, asleep, and slyly snatched it away – how would you ward yourself then in your wisdom? (#35?)
Alberich: (#33b) Loge thinks himself smartest of all; others he always deems dim-witted: (#35?) that I might perhaps need him to help and advise me and earn his weighty thanks – the thief would now be glad to hear! (#42) The masking helmet I thought up myself; but Mime – most heedful of smiths – had to forge it for me: (#43?) to transform me swiftly and change my shape to whatever I want the helmet serves; no one sees me, though he may seek me; yet I am everywhere, hidden from sight. And so, free from care, I’m safe from you, too, my fondly caring friend! [[ (#@: B) Arrogance of Power Motif: #20b/#33b ]]; #35)
Loge: Much I have seen, strange things I have found, but such a wonder I’ve never beheld. I can scarcely believe in so matchless a work; were such a thing likely, your power would last for ever.
Alberich: Do you think that I’m lying and boasting like Loge?
Loge: Till I’ve proved it myself, dwarf, I doubt in your word.
Alberich: (#41) The fool’s fit to burst, he’s so swollen with cunning: may envy [“Neid”] torment you! Decide in what shape I’m to stand here before you.