power in the clouds, and of making a fetish of self-sacrifice to
justify his own cowardice.

Farther on in The Ring we shall see the Hero arrive and make an
end of dwarfs, giants, and gods. Meanwhile, let us not forget
that godhood means to Wagner infirmity and compromise, and
manhood strength and integrity. Above all, we must understand--
for it is the key to much that we are to see--that the god,
since his desire is toward a higher and fuller life, must long
in his inmost soul for the advent of that greater power whose
first work, though this he does not see as yet, must be his
own undoing.

In the midst of all these far-reaching ideas, it is amusing
to find Wagner still full of his ingrained theatrical
professionalism, and introducing effects which now seem
old-fashioned and stagey with as much energy and earnestness as
if they were his loftiest inspirations. When Wotan wrests the
ring from Alberic, the dwarf delivers a lurid and bloodcurdling
stage curse, calling down on its every future possessor care,
fear, and death. The musical phrase accompanying this outburst
was a veritable harmonic and melodic bogey to mid-century ears,
though time has now robbed it of its terrors. It sounds again
when Fafnir slays Fasolt, and on every subsequent occasion when
the ring brings death to its holder. This episode must justify
itself purely as a piece of stage sensationalism. On deeper
ground it is superfluous and confusing, as the ruin to which
the pursuit of riches leads needs no curse to explain it; nor
is there any sense in investing Alberic with providential powers
in the matter.