abhorrence of change, and in a more abstract form, religious faith’s existential prohibition on intellectual inquiry, its taboo of all search into the roots of faith, all knowledge which might undermine it. Siegfried must eliminate this fear, the basis of religious faith, in order to free art from its service to religion (the gods)
Prelude: “([[ #126a ]]; #101 Vari; #17 Vari; [[ #126b ]]; #101 Vari; #17, [[ #126 ]]; #51, #50, #17/#50; #52; #45/[[ #126 ]]; #17 Vari; [[ #126 ]]; #45?)
Alberich: (#50:) In the forest at night I stand guard before Envy-Cave [“Neidhoehle”]. My ear is cocked, my eye keeps effortful watch.
[#126 permeates the remainder of this gloomy scene, often heard whenever Fafner the Serpent (Dragon) is mentioned, creating a portentous mood. Its syncopation sounds as if fear has induced a missed heart-beat]
[[#127]] Wotan’s hope that in Siegfried he has found his free hero
Wotan says of Siegfried: “… let him stand or fall; his own master is he … .”
“Alberich: (#50) How proudly you threaten with insolent strength, yet how fearful you are at heart! – (#51) Doomed to die through my curse is he who holds the hoard: - (#50) Who will fall heir to it? (#17 or #19?; #37?) Will the coveted [“neidliche”] hoard once again belong to the Nibelung? That fills you with endless care. For once I grasp it again in my fist, (#37?) then, (#17>>) unlike foolish Giants, (#37?) I’ll use the power of the Ring: (#15 Vari? [some music possibly associated with Bruennhilde’s remark to Hagen and Gunther in T.2.5 that, unbeknownst to Siegfried, her magic protects the front – but not the back – of his body from wounds?] then tremble, (#52 Vari) eternal guardian of heroes! (#45) Valhalla’s heights I’ll storm with Hella’s [Nibelheim’s] host: then I shall rule the world! (#20b/#33b)
Wotan: (calmly: #37?) I know your mind full well; it gives me no cause for worry: (#114a Vari) He shall command the Ring who wins it.
Alberich: (more animatedly: #114a Vari) How darkly you speak of what I know clearly! (#57) Defiant, you cling to heroes’ sons (mockingly: #40 or #64?) who are dearly descended from your own blood. (#20c?; #? [evidently four notes from a motif I can’t identify, which may be important!!!!]) Haven’t you nurtured a boy who would cleverly pluck the fruit (with increasing vehemence) which you yourself aren’t allowed to pick? (#81A)