Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Mozart's Magical Mystery Tour de Force: Unraveling the Threads of Die Zauberflöte

This essay was written for the Augst 23, 2014  Connecticut Lyric Opera performance of Die Zauberflöte  (The Magic Flute)  by Wolfgang  Amade' Mozart.

"The Magic Flute is like a mirror: anyone who looks into it sees himself, and he will find in it whatever he is looking for."                     
                                  Jânos Leibner, Mozart on the Stage
  
Set design for Act I Scene VI from Mozart's Die Zauberflöte
Konigen der Nacht (Queen of Night)
Aquatint by Carl Friedrich Thiele (1827)
after a print by Karl Friedrich Schinkel (1816)

"...It has pleased the Eternal Architect of
 the World to tear one of our most beloved, meritorious  members
from our brotherly chain. Who did not know him? 
 Who did not esteem him? Our worthy brother Mozart...."

So  spoke the Worshipful Master of the Masonic  Lodge Zur Neugrekronten Hoffnung ("New Crowned Hope") eulogizing  fellow mason, Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus ("Amadeus") Mozart, after his untimely death on December 5, 1791, a  month  before his thirty-sixth birthday.  Mozart was western civilization's most illustrious prodigy, its iconic genius, master composer of symphony,  concerto form, chamber music and opera. Mozart was the Shakespeare and Michelangelo of his Art, mythologized for over two centuries as the apotheosis of Music, writing harmonies at once sublime and ineffable,  who regrettably died before completing all of his myriad conceptions. 

The precise cause of Mozart's death remains unknown, although the evidence suggests chronic conditions (extradural hematoma, renal disease and anemia, exacerbated by bloodletting), and an acute medical crisis, possibly a stroke and shock.  

At the end of November, 1791, ill and confined to bed, Mozart continued to  work on finishing a commissioned work, a Requiem Mass, which he was convinced he was composing for himself.  His assistant, Franz Xaver Sussmayr, had been summoned to take dictation from Mozart on how the Requiem should be completed. 
On that last day, Mozart asked his sister-in-law Sophie Weber Haibl to remove his pet bird to another room, because he could not bear to hear what the bird kept whistling: Papageno's tune from Die Zauberflöte. Mozart was said to have uttered to his assembled friends and family, "How I wish I could hear my beloved  Zauberflöte one more time."

Wolfgang Mozart
The unfinished 1782 portrait
by brother-in law Joseph Lange
His "beloved Zauberflöte" indeed! The opera, Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute), remains one of the most beloved operas in the repertory.  
It is a paean to  fidelity and love, a Masonic allegory and a mystical drama. Even within the canon of Mozart's twenty-three other completed operatic works, where it is usually listed as a Singspiel (along  with its forebears Die Entführung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio) and Zaide - light operas sung in German and with spoken dialogue and no sung recitative), and although it was entitled a Grosse Oper (Grand Opera)  in the  program book at its premiere on September 30, 1791, the last  of Mozart's operas to reach the stage, Die Zauberflöte remains a singular sensation.  Why should that be?

Before demystifying this wondrous opera, Dear Reader, a "Spoiler Alert":  Do not continue reading this essay if you wish to keep thinking of Die Zauberflöte as the story of a prince and a princess and their undying love and devotion to each other, in the face of the forces of darkness and danger, who come through these travails unscathed.  However, if you, like Tamino,  want to understand the deeper and enduring truths  embedded within Die Zauberflöte, the multi-layered aspects that make this  work of art interpretable on several levels, then Dear Reader, you are compelled to embark on the journey and read on.

The bird-catcher Papageno
from an 1816 Berlin production
of Die Zauberflote
 At the most literal plane of analysis, the exoteric level, Die Zauberflöte is a delightful opera by a great composer, approachable by children and adults, a charming musical fairy tale with hummable tunes, a hero and  heroine, comical characters, and a story line that is easy to follow. It has exciting moments and a happy ending, in which truth, morality, personal integrity, love and fidelity  win out. Mozart's inventiveness is displayed in the many different operatic styles embedded in Zauberflöte - soaring arias, Singspiel,  the solemnity of opera seria,  dramatic oratory, and the slapstick of opera buffa.

The Magic Flute
Marc Chagall 1967
for the Metropolitan Opera
Tamino's great Act I aria, Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön, when he first espies the locket-portrait of Pamina, and Pamina's Act II aria, Ach ich fuhl's, a song of yearning (for Tamino, obviously - after all, this is an opera) are worthy of inclusion in  the operatic Pantheon, along with Mozart's indelible tenor and soprano arias from Don Giovanni, Le Nozze di Figaro and Cosi' fan tutte.  

Sarastro is given two great solos, O Isis und Osiris, and In diesen heil'gen Hallen,  befitting his stature as the great sorcerer-priest. Vocal pyrotechnics are to be expected from the Konigin der Nacht (Queen of Night), who demonstrates her personality with the Act I aria, O Zittre Nicht, as a concerned mother would sing to her beloved daughter, and then morphs into the Janus-faced harpy that she really is, with the demonic Act II showstopper,  Der Holle Rach, with those stratospheric F6's !

Who can forget the birdcatcher, Papageno?  His charming Act I ditty, Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja, could be a Sesame Street theme song,  and  his Act II song of despair and then joy in searching for and finding his Papagena, are tunes that grade-schoolers encounter and internalize in their first experiences with  the operatic art form.  

The opera lover can take these ethereal arias, and the celestial music that accompanies them, and have a delightful three hours in the opera house, or at home (enjoying, for example, the  2003 DVD from the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, under the direction of Sir Colin Davis).

Set design for Konigen der nacht (Queen of Night)
Aquatint by Simon Quaglio, Munich 1818

There are other levels of meaning in Die Zauberflöte, allusions that exist on a deeper and more introspective plane, in a mesoteric level of interpretation. These are the Masonic symbols that serve as leitmotifs and recurrent threads throughout the opera.


Masonic symbols in the frontispiece of
 the opening night libretto of Die Zauberflöte
September 30, 1791
Engraving by Freemason Ignaz Alberti  
The decade between 1780 and 1790 opened a brief  but crucial window in the history of Freemasonry. Freemasonry had its roots in the Medieval era. but was not codified until the early 1700s. It was, in the words of historian A.F. Robbins, "an organized system of morality, veiled in allegory, and illustrated by symbol."  

Both Freemasonry and the Enlightenment philosophy shared the concepts of rational thought and scientific inquiry. Because things are often not exactly as they first appear, the seeker of answers had to search deeply for the ultimate truth.

The Catholic Church was historically opposed to Freemasonry, having long banned the Brotherhood, deeming it too dangerous a secular force to its religious tenets. In contradistinction, Freemasonry accepted members of all races and creeds without exception, and still does.  Despite the Church's extreme position, which was made clear to the populace through a series of papal bulls, it was difficult for each city-state to police the edicts. In Vienna, then part of the Hapsburg empire, the Empress Maria Theresa supported the ban, despite the fact that her husband, Francis  I, was both Holy Roman Emperor AND a Masonic Lodge Master! 

However, it was their elder son and successor, Joseph II, who came to the throne in 1780, who was the more " enlightened" ruler; he relaxed the proscription, and became a Freemason himself. The window would soon close again in the late 1789, with the Church reasserting its ban on the Lodges. Leopold II, Joseph II's feckless younger brother and successor, threatened by the Enlightenment ideas of Freemasonry, enforced the shutdown.

A Masonic  Initiation Scene at  "New Crowned Hope"
by Ignaz Unterberger (1789)
At one time, it was thought that Mozart was depicted
on extreme right, next to a presumed Schikaneder, and that
Nikolas Esterhazy, Prince of Hungary and Haydn's patron
was the Master of Lodge and Ceremonies,
at the center,speaking to the Initiate. This has since been disproven
    
It was in that momentarily tolerant atmosphere that Mozart, a devout Catholic, decided to become a Freemason, joining several of his closest friends in the Vienna lodge Zur Wohltätigkeit ("To Benevolence") in December, 1784. Mozart's choice of Lodge was not random: the "Beneficence" Lodge served as a trial balloon for Viennese Catholics who wanted to embrace Freemasonry. 

Mozart's father, Leopold, while visiting his son in Vienna in 1785, also joined the "T0 Beneficence" lodge. Soon thereafter, the Lodge was consolidated into a new and larger facility, Zur Neugekronten Hoffnung ("To the New Crowned Hope"), which Franz Joseph Haydn joined as well.

Mozart's colleagues, the financier Michael Puchberg and the clarinetist Anton Stadler, were also fellow Lodge brothers (from both of whom Mozart would episodically borrow money). The theatrical producer, writer, actor and machinist Johann Joseph Schickeneder (Emanuel Schikaneder) was also a Mason, a member of  a different lodge just outside of Vienna. 
Mozart had previously met Schikaneder in 1780, and after the 1782 premiere of Die Entführung, his troupe toured  the opera around German-speaking Europe for a decade. Schikaneder  was to be very much a part of Mozart's life at the end: he was the catalyst for Die Zauberflöte, its  librettist, its first Papageno, and after Mozart's death,  tried (unsuccessfully) with the poet Goethe, to write its sequel.

Schikaneder was a hyper-energetic, competitive and financially astute impresario, who demanded hit after hit for his new music art-house the Freihaus-Theater auf der Wieden. In May of 1791, he proposed to Mozart that his libretto, Die Zauberflöte, be set to music.   
Captivated by the theme, its esoteric allusions, the Masonic tangents, the prospect of using advanced machinery in the opera (a hot-air balloon!), and unhindered by other projects, Mozart set to work. By  June 11, in just six weeks, he had already completed most of the opera, apart from the March of the Priests at the beginning of Act II. In typical fashion, Mozart did not finish the overture until right before the September 28th deadline, two days befor the premiere on September

Zauberflöte abounds in Masonic symbolism and numerology. A "prime" example is the number three, a foundational Masonic theme, which dominates the composition of Zauberflöte. The key of the overture and many arias are in Eb major, the third chord in the diatonic scale, the key with three flats:

   
The opening measures of the overture, heralded by woodwinds, are three harmonized chords, beginning with the tonic Eb triad, and mirroring the Masonic initiate knocking three times on the Masonic lodge door to request entry:


Three Ladies pop up from time to time, giving advice, succor and magical instruments to the protagonists, as  do Three Boys (the Three "Genii," called the "Child-Spirits" in later productions). 
There are three pairs of principals: Tamino/Pamina, Papageno/Papagena, Konigen der nacht/Sarastro; three temples in Sarastro's fortress (Reason, Wisdom and Nature); and three trials which Tamino and Pamina must undergo as initiation into self-awareness and knowledge (earth, water and fire).

An intriguing alternative analysis suggests that the use of the number three in Zauberflöte alludes not to Masonic imagery, but to the Trinity of Christianity. Given Mozart's fervent Catholic faith, evident in his letters and devotional Masses, it is plausible. Christian metaphors underpin this outwardly pagan opera. Mozart's ecumenical ideas would readily have allowed him to intertwine in music and drama positive attributes of both creeds.  However, the majority opinion continues to favor the Masonic interpretation.

Sarastro's Garden, with the Sphinx and Egyptian motif
from Schinkel's  design for an 1816  production of Die Zauberflöte
   
Masonic ritual contains antecedents in Egyptian mythology, with its emphasis on the commingled journeys of the life-spark (ka) and the soul-spirit (ba). Another middle eastern philosophy, Zoroastrianism, which embraces the concept of the duality of good and evil (and therefore, the necessary existence of both ideas), manifests in the opera by the juxtaposition of the forces of light and darkness. 

The high priest Sarastro (whose name is a variant of Zoroaster) intones the Egyptian creation gods Isis and Osiris in the first of his two magnificent arias. Zoroastrian light-dark duality is evinced by sun disk which accompanies Sarastro. in contrast with the night-time stars emblazoned behind the Queen of the Night, also called Astrofiammante.
Could there be a Master Architect of the Heavens?
Note the "mechanistic" groupings of stars
(in threes)  that shine behind the
                   Starflammende Konigen (Star-flaming Queen)                     
The sun disk behind Sarastro, the priests
and the protagonists.


   






      
    Mozart and Schikaneder were fascinated by  Eastern philosophy and Orientalism, which were all the rage in late eighteenth century Europe. Mozart had already begun an unfinished dramatic work based in Egypt, Thamos, König in Ägypten, 1779), and an opera buffa, L'oca del Cairo (The Goose of Cairo, 1782). He also composed two Singspiele with middle Eastern touches, Zaide in 1779 with its own Egyptian setting and underpinnings, and Die Entführung aus dem Serail in 1782 with those wondrous Turkish accents - cymbals!  Janissary music!  a Pasha!

Wenzel Mueller's opera, Die Zauberzither (The Magic Zither, also known for some reason as Kaspar, the Bassoonist) served as an additional source for some of the oriental touches in Zauberflöte.  At the same time,  the play Sethos, based on Jean Terrason's eponymous 1731 novel, also set in Egypt and filled with both Masonic and Egyptian mythological references, was being performed in Vienna. The plot of Sethos portrays an evil sorcerer and a good queen.

Ideas from Sethos show up frequently in Zauberflöte. Mozart and Schikaneder had attended several performance of the play. After they had seen it, they completely revamped the second act of Zauberflöte, so as not to be accused of plagiarism, added Masonic symbols and reversed the aspects of good and evil portrayed by Queen of the Night and Sarastro.

Mozart and Schikaneder were also informed by the works of Shakespeare; Schikaneder was one of the leading Hamlets, Macbeths and Lears of his day. In the last months of his life, Mozart was planning to compose an opera to Shakespeare's The Tempest. 
There are parallels between Zauberflöte and The Tempest: Sarastro and Prospero align, Tamino and Pamina can be re-imagined as Ferdinand and Miranda, the Three Ladies' musical antics conjure Ariel, and Monostatos and Caliban each serve as their master's evil assistants.  
Monostatos
Julie Taymor's design
realized here by Opera Australia

Caliban
from a 1984 Royal Shakespeare production
directed by Anthony Quayle
   











    Zauberflöte was also inspired by another popular opera of the day, Lulu, oder Zauberflöte, taken from C.M. Weiland's anthology Dschinnistan,  which in turn derived from Sufi's Tales of Djinnistan ("The country of the Djinn, or "paradise spirits", whence "genie"). These tales parallel the classic literary form of Bildungsroman, the coming-of-age story, the journey of  an individual's  moral growth and initiation , from wayward darkness (ignorance) to light (knowledge and wisdom), the very journey undertaken by Tamino.

Queen of Night
L'Opera de Montreal
Empress Maria Theresa
of Austria-Hungary
Could Die Zauberflöte also have contained  a hidden political agenda?  Mozart and his earlier librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte, through an original play by Beaumarchais, had already poked fun at the aristocracy in Le Nozze di Figaro, where servants trump their overlords. 

  
Die Zauberflöte also displays political undertones, The Queen of the Night represents the reactionary Maria Theresa (and by extension, the whole of the ancien regime).  
Sarasto can be seen as a surrogate for Ignaz von Born, the Master of Vienna's most prominent Masonic Lodge, a brilliant scientist and a philosopher of the Enlightenment philosophy of rational thought. Tamino stands either for Joseph II, Pamina represents the Austrian populace, and Monostatos, the Catholic Church. 2

Die Zauberflöte was a great success. Cautiously optimistic  on opening night, Mozart and Schikaneder knew after a few shows that they had fashioned the eighteenth century-equivalent of a Tony-award winner. On October 7th after  sixth straight performances, Mozart wrote to his wife Constanze (who was in Baden bei Wien taking the baths), "I have this moment returned from the opera, which was as full as ever...., but what always gives me the greatest pleasure is the silent approval ! You can see how this opera is becoming more and more esteemed." Mozart had  a lot of fun with the opera along the way.  At one performance, he played the Glockenspiel from the wings,  purposely mistiming his entrances to confuse Schikaneder's Papageno !
The opening night
playbill for
Die Zauberflöte
Sept 30, 1791
      
Mozart returned many times to the Theater auf der Wieden to see his Zauberflöte, once bringing his mother-in-law Caecilia Weber (about whom he quipped to Schikaneder that "she will see it, but she will not hear it.")  On another night, Mozart invited his colleague (and not, in historical fact, his nemesis) the court composer Antonio Salieri, who arrived squiring the soprano Caterina Cavalieri (they were an item at that point). Mozart's very last surviving letter (to Constanze, dated October 14, 1791), contains this comment: "Salieri listened and watched most attentively, and from the sinfonia (overture) to the final chorus there was not a single item that failed to draw from him  a "bravo" or a "bello"!"  Salieri and Cavalieri  had both enthused that  "Zauberflöte was a true  Operone (a "Grand Opera"), worthy to performed before the greatest monarchs and before the grandest festivity, and that they certainly would see it very often, for they had never seen such a more beautiful and agreeable piece." 4

Act I Scene XV, entitled "Tamino warding off wild beasts"
portrays the racist subtext of the opera
Engraving by Joseph and Peter Schaffer, 1793
There is also an uncomfortable aspect to Zauberflöte. The opera has been attacked as being racist and sexist. Monostatos, a Moor, is depicted as having dark skin, easily duped, and in his attempts to ravish Pamina,   a sexual predator.

The role of women in the opera, and in Freemasonry in general, trends towards the submissive, the oppressed and the left out. The journey taken by Tamino and Pamina begins within a matriachal point of view (The Queen of Night as "benevolent" in Act I), and ends in Act II  in a patriarchal matrix (Queen of Night as "evil," and Sarastro, now seen as Tamino's father-figure, as "benevolent"). 

There is an underlying sexual tension in the opera, as in almost all of Mozart's operas, when the Three Ladies lust after the sleeping Tamino after they had just slain the serpent which had been threatening him. By having Pamina  lead Tamino, and then having her initiated with him into the rites of Sarastro and his priests (representing Masonic ritual), Mozart and Schikaneder demonstrated that they had a modern, balanced and liberated view of things for their time.


Sarastro and the Temple of Priests
   
A perceptive,  albeit  androcentric,  analysis of the matriarchal/patriarchal issues in Die Zauberflöte was offered by M. O.  Lee (Father Owen Lee) for the Metropolitan Opera in 2006, who wrote that:
     "The Magic Flute is not just an allegory of the eighteenth century struggle between Catholicism and Freemasonry; it is an imaginative description of something much older and more important, of humankind's primeval progression from nature to culture, from unreason to reason, and from matriarchy to patriarchy. Man's first deities were not father gods but mother goddesses. In our oldest mythologies, Mother Earth antedates Father Sky, Gaia is older than Uranus.... Taboo, spells and magic were important.... magic was replaced with ritual, and taboo with morality.... and the mother goddess yielded to a father god. The hero-myth is again fashionable thanks to Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell. In their writings, the mythic-hero goes on a quest for his father, which is ultimately a quest for his own self. If he is fortunate, he is joined by a companion.... who represents everything that the hero himself is not. Jung calls this figure the shadow, potentially dangerous to the psyche of the hero unless he is won over. But if he is won over, the shadow is helpful to the hero, as Tonto is to the Lone Ranger, or Jim to Huck Finn, or Sancho Panza to Don Quixote, Pylades to Orestes, Patroclus to Achilles, or Papageno  to Tamino." 5

Is it possible that Die Zauberflöte, beyond its exoteric manifestation as an enjoyable Grimm fairy-tale opera of morality, and beyond its mesoteric exegesis as a Masonic source book, is also an esoteric text, a guide with hidden meanings,  a mystical treatise of the most secret of the ancient philosophies and alchemical transmutations, knowable only to the initiated, to a group like the Illuminati? Does Die Zauberflöte contain within it some "Secret Knowledge," a system of living, allowing the initiated to attain an enhanced cosmic awareness of eternal life?

In the latter decades of the eighteenth century, at the end of the Age of the Englightenment,  there was a dramatic shift in knowledge. Alchemy and other Hermetic philosophies (pseudepigraphically articulated by Hermes Trismegistus - a conflation of the magic/medicine gods of the Greeks (Hermes) and Egyptians (Thoth)), were supplanted by scientific inquiry and the rise of formal fields of study:  anatomy, biology, chemistry, geology and mineralogy.

The ancient Eleusinian
Mysteries as depicted on
a red-figure krater kylex
As  the alchemical arts declined, there remained a desire by some  proto-scientists to  memorialize the writings about what they  had still imputed to be a mystical energy source, some of which concepts were contained in the Eleusinian mysteries and others of which  followed the alchemical grail of the material (in contradistinction  to the spiritual) transmutation of lead into gold, the so -called "Philosopher's Stone."

Alchemy was based on  three fundamental forms of matter: sulfur, mercury and salt.  Norfleet, in an article on the relationship of alchemy  to Die Zauberflöte,  explains that  this tripartite principle derives from Neoplatonism. In Neoplatonic thought (which  began from revisions to Plato's philosophy by Plotinus in the third century C.E.), there are three levels of spiritual reality (the hypostases), which deal with aspects of the nous, or soul, which combine with the four levels of physical reality - air, earth, water and fire.6 

Die Zauberflöte is rich in the triadic numerology previously discussed, along with a quaternary numerology: there are threes and fours (and thus, sevens) in Zauberflöte. Both the Egyptian pyramid and the Masonic symbol have four-sided bases with triangular sides  Papageno plays the Pan Pipes - which contain seven reeds  Adding up the three pairs of operatic principals (Tamino/Pamina. Papageno/Papagena. Sarastro/Queen of the Night) makes six, and Monostatos (whose name means "to stand alone") makes seven.

The three Principles of Alchemy
The pyramid of Cheops (Khufu) at Giza
Is this four-sided base pyramid a
Masonic symbol as well as an Illuminati marker?
    

  


     
     

   
The serpent, in alchemical doctrine, is a physical manifestation of the tripartite principle of matter; and it is a serpent which Tamino confronts at the beginning of Zauberflöte, and which is slain by the Three Ladies (there's that numerology of three again, hmmmm). 

There are further esoteric allusions in the opera. Does Tamino's journey parallel that of the Cathars, neo-Manichean dualistic heretics, or perhaps the Knights Templar themselves, both of which groups had esoteric codes and were persecuted by the Church over centuries ?  

The number 22 is one of the most important numbers in their philosophy. Do the 22 cards that represent the Major Arcana of the Tarot also serve as markers  for  the exactly 21 arias  plus the Overture (= 22) that comprise Die Zauberflöte?

These esoteric concepts resonated deeply with another secret society, the Bavarian Illuminati, founded by Adam Weishaupt in 1776. It was birthed of the Enlightenment, aligned with, but separate from, Freemasonry (many members were in both groups), comprised of free-thinkers in government, law, politics and the sciences, with its own arcane symbols and clandestine code.

Ignaz von Born (1742-1791)
Mineralogist, Metallurgist, Masonic Master
and member of the Bavarian Illuminati
Was von Born Mozart's archetype for Sarastro?
One key individual, who understood medieval proto-sciences while building upon the new Scientific Method, was the brilliant polymath, Ignaz von Born. In addition to being Master of the Masonic Lodge Zur Wohltätigkeit ("Beneficence"), von Born was appointed by the Empress Maria Theresa to head Vienna's Imperial Museum (later called the Natural History Museum). von Born was also an esteemed philosopher, a practicing lawyer and  a leading mineralogist and metallurgist. He became the first elected foreign member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, while still finding the time to dabble in politics.   

As a leader of the Bavarian Illuminati, von Born was also the keeper of the secret flame of their esoteric knowledge, which he began to codify in 1784 in a book-length article entitled  The Egyptian Mysteries which was then published in the  Journal fur Freimaurer (The Journal of Freemasonry), as well as in a 1786 book on the alchemical amalgamation of precious metals.  Could von Born, who  mentored Mozart as a Masonic initiate in 1784 and became his close friend, have given the composer some profound insights into the esoteric arts? 

There is a tantalizing clue. 

In 1790, Schikaneder asked four of Vienna's most accomplished composers to collaborate on a fantasy-opera for his Freihaus Theater. There were to be four operas in this planned series,  an opera titled  Oberon was the first, while Zauberflöte, still unhatched at that point, would be the last. The title of Schickaneder's proposed operatic pastiche was Der Stern der Wiesen, (The Philosopher's Stone). The Philosopher's Stone !   the grail of alchemy! 

Mozart contributed several arias to this fascinating and incomplete work, one serious and the other comical. The comical aria Nun liebes weibchen, (KV 625/592a),  is nicknamed the "Cat Duet." It is not only quite funny (replete with frequent "miaows" by tenor and soprano), but also presages the famous Pa-pa-gena!/Pa-pa-geno! duet in Die Zauberflöte.  In fact,  Der Stern der Wiesen called for a similar cast and was based on a similar concept to Zauberflöte: a hero on a journey who must pass trials by fire and water, who is led by a comic guide named Lubano (shades of Papageno). It starred Mozart's friend, the tenor and flutist (how serendipitous!) Benjamin Schack, who would create the role of Tamino. 

Mozart and Schikaneder created a multi-layered operatic tour de force with Die Zauberflöte: approachable and popular with the masses (while satirizing the monarchy), it played to sell-out audiences in theaters  all over Europe  for a decade after Mozart's death, it was interpretable by the Masons, and all the while served as a secret lodestone for the Illuminati !
The Magic Flute
by Marc Chagall 1966
Despite this exegesis, some real and some conjured  from layers of analytical  sediment deposited  by  two centuries of interpretation,  Die Zauberflöte remains an enigma, its inherent ambiguity purposeful. The opera coruscates as a crystal, reflecting one's own hopes, fears and experiences, which in turn only deepen  the admiration and reverence of this masterpiece. As a  musical work, it draws the listener in, at first with simple song, then with indelible musical love poems, and at its climax,  with a monumental paean to hope, faith and virtue.  As a literary work, it intrigues the reader with allegory and complex  symbolism, and its disparate, yet mystically interconnected philosophies. As a visual work, it captivates the viewer with its trajectory,  from darkness to the brilliance of  light. Die Zauberflöte  can thus be seen as the paradigm of the  Gesamtkunstwerk,  the idealized and  complete work of Art, which one can visit and then revisit again throughout life, from childhood into senescence, at each stage always finding new secrets, new harmonies and new understandings within.
Wolfgang  Mozart
The posthumous oil by Barbara Kraft (1819)
Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna

Ref .1.   Karhausen, The Bleeding of Mozart, XLibris, New York, 2011.
Ref. 2    Seifert, S."The Origins, Meanings, Rituals and Values of The Magic Flute," Opera Colorado
Ref. 3    Solomon, M.  Mozart: A Life,  New York, Harper Perennial, 1995.   
Ref. 4   Branscombe, P. Die Zauberflöte, Cambridge University Press, 1991, pg. 153
Ref. 5    Lee, M.O. Metropolitan Opera Intermission Notes, Die Zauberflöte, January 21, 2006
Ref. 6    Norfleet, P. http://mozart2051.tripod.com/levels_meaning.htm
  
Copyright 2012, 2013, 3014   Vincent P. de Luise MD     A Musical Vision

Friday, February 24, 2012

Will the Real "Tales of Hoffmann" Please Stand Up?

(This essay was written for Opera Brooklyn's March 2nd concert performance of Jacques Offenbach's delightful opera Les Contes d'Hoffmann (The Tales of Hoffmann) in James Chapel  in New York City).


Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880)
    It remains a curious sidebar of music history that one of the world’s most popular operas, the engaging and delightful The Tales of Hoffmann (Les Contes d’Hoffmann), has had such a circuitous journey, from the many false starts as it was about to be premiered, to the plethora of varied performances it has had over those ensuing one hundred thirty years, all the way to today. 

     During this time, more than a dozen so-called “complete performances” have wended their way in and out of opera houses around the world, all to great admiration and acclaim. The problem is that not one of these reconstructions is exactly as its composer had written. To get a better understanding of these peculiar circumstances and the “whys and wherefores” of this lovely opera (oh yes, G and S loved Offenbach too!), it is worthwhile to take a brief look at the birthing of Hoffmann and the life of its composer, Jakob Eberst. Wait! You say? You thought that it was Jacques Offenbach who composed Hoffmann?  Well, you are right. Hoffmann was indeed composed by Jacques Offenbach – whose name was also Jakob Eberts; they are one and the same. It’s a long and true story, you see, a  tale akin to Hoffmann’s own, and it goes like this:

    Jacques Offenbach was born Jakob Eberst on June 20, 1819, in Cologne, in Prussia (Germany was not yet its own country). His father, Isaac, was a violinist and cantor, and was nicknamed der Offenbacher, after the family’s native town of Offenbach am Main (near Frankfurt in southern Germany). Isaac officially took the surname Offenbach in 1816. The two Offenbach sons (there were also eight Offenbach daughters in this prolific family) were highly musical. Jakob started on violin, and switched early on to cello, where he was quickly recognized to be a prodigy.  Much as the young Brahms would do as a solo pianist in Hamburg and later with the violinist Reményi on tour, Jakob, his brother Julius and his sister Isabella formed a piano trio (cello, violin, piano),  playing the saloons and inns of Cologne. Their precocious musical artistry quickly made them local celebrities, which prompted their father Isaac to find a way to send Julius and Jakob to Paris, to the Paris Conservatoire (a Parisian Juilliard or Curtis Insitute of Music, if you will, though of course, Parisians would say that Juilliard and Curtis are American versions of the Paris Conservatoire, and there is something to that), recognized as the epicenter of European musical pedagogy.

    In Paris, where Jakob impressed the director of the Conservatoire, (the Italian-born composer Luigi Cherubini),  he was duly admitted and changed his first name to Jacques (Julius/Jules got in as well). After studying there for only a year, the now newly-named Jacques Offenbach abruptly left and began freelancing on cello, eventually securing a permanent position in 1835 as a cellist at the Opéra Comique. In 1844, Offenbach went to England for a series of concerts, in some of which he had the opportunity to perform with the greatest violinist of the time, Joseph Joachim, and the brilliant composer and pianist Felix Mendelssohn, capping off his tour with a spectacularly successful concert at Windsor Court where he amazed the royal family with his artistry, prompting a reporter at the time to comment,  "Herr Jacques Offenbach, the astonishing Violoncellist, performed on Thursday evening at Windsor before the Emperor of Russia, the King of Saxony, Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert,  with great success.”

    However, Offenbach’s true passion was opera, and composing operettas in particular, but his initial efforts, which he presented to Paris’ Opéra Comique, were summarily rebuffed. After a few other efforts in the genre which did not go very far, Offenbach succeeded in composing his first true hit, an opéra bouffe (a comic operatic farce with parody and satire, which we would term a full-scale operetta), Orphée aux enfers (Orpheus in the Underworld), to a text and libretto by Halevy and Cremieux. It premiered in 1858 at the Theatre des Bouffes Parisien, and ran for an astounding 228 performances after opening night.  Orpheus is still popular and frequently performed, and is especially well known for its second act Galop Infernal, immediately recognizable today as the famous “Can-Can.”

    Offenbach became a French citizen in 1860 and subsequently was bestowed one of France’s highest civilian honors, the Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, by Napoleon III. Offenbach’s success with Orpheus was followed by other still popular works, most notably La Belle Hélène in 1864, La Vie Parisienne in 1866 and La Périchole in 1868. However matters turned sour for Offenbach in 1870 with the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war; Offenbach’s close relationship with the regime of Napoleon III made him somewhat of a persona non grata for a while. However, things improved by 1872 and Offenbach was back in favor in France, busily composing and conducting. He toured the United States in 1876, as part of its Centennial Exhibition, giving numerous performances to packed crowds in Philadelphia, as well as in New York City at a place called Gilmore’s Garden (and which is now called Madison Square Garden !).

    Les Contes d’Hoffmann was Offenbach’s last effort, a serious opera, and an unfinished work at that.  Hoffmann was based on a play by the librettists Jules Barbier and Michel Carre, the same sophisticated and successful writing team who scripted Gounod’s Faust and Romeo et Juliette. Their stage play, Les Contes Fantastique d’Hoffmann (The fantastic Tales of Hoffmann) premiered in 1851 and was based on the life of a real poet, the German artist E.T.A. Hoffmann, making him a character in some of his own, wildly fanciful stories. Three of these stories (in English, they are titled “The Sandman,” “Councillor Krespel” and “The Lost Reflection”) serve as leitmotifs for each of the three acts of Hoffmann.  Offenbach's dramatic opera follows the same schema, placing the title and eponymous character  as a protagnoist within each of these three imaginary stories of failed love. The work became one of the most noble, nuanced, and expressive operas in the whole of the French tradition.
E.T.A. Hoffmann (1776 - 1822)

    E.T.A. Hoffmann was one of the last of the Romantic German writers, and his carefully developed and psychologically drawn stories served as inspiration for many subsequent literary works, ballets and musical compositions apart from Offenbach's Tales. Indeed, several of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories were influenced by Hoffmann's oeuvre, as were some of the novels of Pushkin, Chekhov's plays,  the early work of Dostoyevsky,  Delibes' Coppelia, and Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades and Nutcracker ballet.

     One particular psychological trait, as Mary Dibbern eloquently writes in her source book on The Tales of Hoffmann, and which is one of the central motifs in Offenbach's  Hoffmann that stems directly from E.T.A. Hoffmann's original work,  is the notion of the double (or doppelganger) and its corollary concept of the "disintegration of the identity." This is evident in the fluidity of the characters in Offenbach's opera, especially in the various manifestations of Stella (Olympia, Antonia and Giulietta);  Hoffmann's friend, the androgynous Nicklausse (who also inhabits the Muse at the end), and the evil-doers Lindorf, Coppelius, Dr. Miracle and Dapertutto.

   Hoffmann was to have premiered at the Gaîté-Lyrique in Paris during its 1877-1878 season, but budgetary cutbacks forced Offenbach to postpone its opening. It was then rescheduled for the Opéra-Comique, but a further series of snafus pushed back the premiere even further. All the while, Offenbach continued to tinker with the music as well as the libretto, and unfortunately he died while the production was still in rehearsal, and four months before it finally premiered, in February of 1881 at the Opéra Comique, leaving the score unfinished. The work’s orchestration was completed by Ernest Guiraud, who also wrote the recitatives and  spliced in the famously lovely and elegiac second act Barcarolle, or boat-song, Belle nuit, ô nuit d’amour, which Offenbach originally wrote as a ghost-song for one of his earlier ballet-operas, his now forgotten 1864 gem, Le Fée du Rhin, (The Rhine Fairy, or Die Rheinnixen as it was known at its Vienna premiere) .

    Over the ensuing one hundred thirty years, musicologists continued to uncover various parts of the manuscripts for the opera that Offenbach was continually editing. The result is that there have been numerous “completed editions” of Hoffmann. The milestone 1992 effort by Michael Kaye has recently been supplanted by a newer edition, completed in 2011  by two competing music publishers, one French, the other German (as befits Offenbach’s own Franco-Teutonic citizenship). These two houses have collected and collated all the known manuscripts and fragments to create a new collaborative edition which is arguably now a most definitive Urtext, as faithful to Offenbach’s original vision as possible. Despite, or perhaps because of, these many hurdles over the years, the version of Hoffmann that we can now enjoy today captures all of the spirit, nuance and beauty of Offenbach's timeless music, to timeless tales.
Copyright 2012 Vincent de Luise MD A Musical Vision

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Love Potion Numero Uno: Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore (The Elixir of Love) and the Quintessence of Comic Opera

(This essay was written for the February 10th, 2012 Opera Company of Brooklyn performance of Gaetano Donizetti's tender comic masterpiece, L'Elisir d' Amore,  at the new Di Menna Center for Classical Music in midtown Manhattan).


       Many are those who are still itching to know how and why Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848) achieved rock-star status in the world of nineteenth century opera. Well, there certainly are a number of enduring reasons to admire  that brilliant composer from Bergamo, Italy.  To begin, Donizetti was master of three  types of musical composition:  choral, orchestral and operatic. He created masterpieces in several Italian and French  operatic genres. He wrote for the Paris Opera, coming through with flying colors in his masterpieces La fille du regiment and La Favorite. Opera lovers who need a dose or two of musical tragedy in their lives can put Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor and Anna Bolena on their “favs’ lists. Posterity includes Donizetti along with his Italian countrymen Gioacchino Rossini and Vincenzo Bellini in that triumvirate of composers who perfected the operatic form known as bel canto, a style of singing that began in the mid- 1700s and reached its apex in the early nineteenth century in the works of these masters.  But it was as a composer of comic opera, opera buffa and opera comica as they are known, that Donizetti shone. His sparkling farces L’Elisir d’Amore (The Elixir of Love or The Love Potion) and Don Pasquale remain fresh, funny and vital to this day, and are among the most popular operas performed, both here and abroad.
Gateano Donizetti
(1797-1848)
     
    In the early 1800s, bel canto opera was all the rage. Bel canto was to music of that era what the best Broadway musicals are today – a popular style with smash hits, and Gaetano Donizetti was its Richard Rodgers.  Donizetti did not invent anything musically new, even though Beethoven was doing just that at the same time as Donizetti was composing. Donizetti did not invent a new operatic style as Wagner was soon to create.  Rather, Donizetti took the musical idiom of bel canto and raised it to its apotheosis. Bel canto incorporated within its rubric several critical and difficult-to-master vocal skills: an impeccable legato throughout the range, a lightness of tone in the higher registers, an ability to dispatch the embellished vocal lines of the fioritura,  a delicate and restrained vibrato, and crystalline, limpid diction. Donizetti's operatic compositions were all in this bel canto style, whether they were great tragic operas like Anna Bolena, Lucrezia Borgia  or Lucia Lammermoor, or the witty and tuneful comedies. He took comic opera, which for over a century had been the very stylized opera buffa with its stock characters right out of the commedia dell'arte  playbook (viz., Pulcinella, Pierrot  and company), and transformed those simple cardboard cut-out figures and that style of music into opera comica, true comic opera, where the characters were real-life people, with real-life foibles, feelings and passions. That was Donizetti's genius and our reward.

    Italians were among the most prolific of all composers. Vivaldi wrote over 700 works, Monteverdi over 200 and likely many more, Rossini over 200 as well, Verdi close to 100, and Donizetti  himself over 500, seventy-five of which were operas!  But the question that needs to be asked is: "Is this composer capable of prolific musical production without sacrificng quality?"  Fortunately for us, in the case of Donizetti, the answer is a resounding  "Yes!" Donizetti's music, especially his operatic music, whether serious or comic, was uniformly of the highest quality.

Felice Romani (1788-1865)
Donizetti's librettist for
Anna Bolena, Lucrezia Borgia
and L'Elisir d'Amore

    As with so many of the great operatic partnerships of composer and librettist (Mozart and da Ponte, Gounod and Barbier,  and Puccini and Illica immediately come to mind), Donizetti was quite fortunate in having the successful and sophisticated Felice Romani as his musical partner.  Romani wrote the libretti for Bellini’s Il Pirata, I Capuleti  e I Montecchi, La Sonnambula  and Norma; for Rossini’s Il Turco in Italia; and for Donizetti’s first major triumph, the 1830 masterpiece Anna Bolena, and Lucrezia Borgia, which premiered in 1833  Romani also wrote a libretto that Verdi later used for his  early opera, the opera comica,  Un Giorno di Regno (King for a Day). Now that’s pretty impressive “credits” for any librettist.

    Donizetti was said to have written L’elisir d’amore in the spring of 1832 in the space of but three weeks;  Romani, wrote the libretto for it in eight days!  Apparently, these feats of compository prestidigitation and pyrotechnics were common at that time. Rossini wrote his brilliant opera,  Il Barbiere di Siviglia  (The Barber of Seville) in a little over  three weeks, prompting Donizetti to yawn to Felice that " that Signor Rossini is so lazy.”!? And there is strong evidence that Donizetti composed virtually the whole final act of his opera La Favorite  in but three hours !

    Then, as now, there were templates in place to make writing librettos and composing operas somewhat formulaic, thus at least partly explaining their speed of composition. The story of L’Elisir did not spring fully formed from Romani’s head, like Athena from the brow of Zeus. Rather, Romani cleverly transcribed and then doctored a libretto that had been previously written by librettist with the very appropriate last name of  Scribe for the 1831 opera, Le Philtre (The Love Potion), by the composer Daniel Auber.
Donizetti's favorite soprano
Eugenia Tadolini
as Adina in the
1842 Naples revival of L'Elisir

     Hmmmmm. So, did Romani and Donizetti plagiarize from Scribe and Auber?  Not really. When one thinks about it, there are only so many story lines to draw from in opera. The usual suspects are the themes of eternal love, mixed up love, mixed up lovers, mistaken identity, infidelity, unrequited love, jealousy, love lost and then found, a mad scene for spice, and, oh yes, someone always dying, either of a dreaded disease, a gunshot wound, or both. These represent most of the core plots which have gotten mashed up and reworked in countless operas over the centuries. With L’Elisir,  Donizetti and Romani were just doing what everybody else in the opera world was doing, especially at the time; to wit, dipping into this minestrone of storylines, borrowing from here, adapting from there, and presto change-o !  you have another opera, this one happening to be a comic masterpiece.

    Donizetti described L’Elisir as a melodramma giocoso. In Italian, the word melodramma does not carry all of the nuanced import that the word  melodrama does in our language.  Melodramma simply means opera in Italian. So a melodramma giocoso is nothing more than the Italian term for a comic opera. However, the opera does begin with a little bit of serious literary history. Our heroine, the wealthy, proud, beautiful  and fickle Adina, is first seen and heard as she reads, then sings and summarily dismisses, the story of Tristan and Isolde. The Tristan legend dates back over a millennium and while there are several versions of the story, in one of which Tristan is mortally wounded, all the variants, prose and poetic, have Tristan and Isolde drinking a love potion, an elixir of love, thus sealing their eternal affection for each other. Adina laughs off the story, saying that thankfully love potions don't exist anymore to ensnare and enslave women's emotions. Little does she know, as the opera unfolds.

     L’Elisir premiered at the Teatro della Canobbiana in Milano on May 12, 1832, after only four rehearsals and to great acclaim, even though Donizetti had confided to Romani on opening night with the famous comment that “it bodes well that we have a German prima donna, a tenor who stammers, a buffo who has a voice like a goat, and a French basso who isn’t up to doing much.”  The musicologist Charles Osborne wrote that the critic of the Gazzetta Privilegiata di Milano felt that “the style of the score is lively, and brilliant. The shading from buffo to serio takes place with surprising gradations and the emotions are handled with musical passion. The orchestration is always brilliant and appropriate to the situation. It reveals a great master at work, accompanying a vocal line now lively, now brilliant, now impassioned.” One of Donizetti’s early composition instructors, Simon Mayr, confirmed that the opera was "inspired throughout with joy and happiness."

Dr. Dulcamara comes to town
hawking his magical elixirs of love
in the 1968 "Wid West"
 Cincinnati Opera production
    The names of many of the principals in L’Elisir were purposely chosen by Donizetti and Romani to relate to love. As the etymological sleuths of the San Francisco Opera education department have uncovered, Belcore means “good heart” or “beautiful heart” (derived from bel  cuore in Italian);   Adina is Hebrew for “refined or gentle;”  Dulcamara is a combination of the Latin words  for “sweet” (dulcis, dulce)  and “sour” (amarus, amara), adjectives which certainly define its owner;  and Gianetta likely stems from  Gianna, which is Hebrew for “gracious.” Only Nemorino has a name which is curiously not love-related. Nemorino means “the little nobody,” and stems from “nemo,”  the Latin word for “nobody” or “no one.” Indeed, for much of the opera, almost until the final glorious moments when he and Adina unite, Nemorino is portrayed by Donizetti and Felice as a “nobody.” In addition, there is a nice symmetry in the first names of both the composer and the librettist of this operatic love story: "Gaetano" is related to the word "gaiezza," which means "happiness," and  "Felice" means "happy."  How serendipitous is that !

    Now let us not necessarily judge a hero by his first name, for Nemorino, while his name evidently doesn't mean very much at all, is a truly inspired character, a grand hero of the stature of Tristan and Romeo. Nemorino's heart-breaking second act aria, Una Furtiva Lagrima (A Single, Hidden Tear), with that plaintive introduction by the bassoon and echo by the clarinet, is so well known that it has become an emblem for all of opera (okay, okay, an emblem  for all of opera along with Puccini's Nessun Dorma from Turandot). Even musical novices can sing Nemorino's aria (despite it being in the distant key of Bb minor, the relative minor of an equally distant key, Db major):

The words to Una Furtiva Lagrima are so famously beautiful, so lyrical in the original Italian, and so poignant in any language that they deserve to be memorialized here (the English translation is mine):
Una furtiva lagrima
negli occhi suoi spuntò:
Quelle festose giovani
invidiar sembrò.
Che più cercando io vo?
M'ama! Sì, m'ama, lo vedo.
Un solo istante i palpiti
del suo bel cor sentir!
I miei sospir, confondere
per poco a' suoi sospir!
I palpiti, i palpiti sentir,
confondere i miei coi suoi sospir...
Cielo!  Si può  morir!
Di più non chiedo, non chiedo
Ah, cielo! Si può! si può morir!
Di più non chiedo, non chiedo
Si può morire! Si può morir d’amor.
A single, hidden tear
began to form in her eyes:
She seemed to be envious of
those playful youths.
What more do I need to look for?
She loves me! Yes, I see that she loves me.
If only for an instant to feel the beating
Of her beautiful heart!
My sighs for a moment melded
fleetingly with hers !
To feel her heart beating, beating,
My sighs melded with hers as one...
Heaven ! Yes, I could, I could die!
I do not ask for more.
Oh, heaven ! Yes, I could! Yes, I could die!
 I do not ask for more, I do not ask
Yes I could die. I could die of love.

    The aria was so indelibly essayed by the great Italian tenor Enrico Caruso that the Metropolitan Opera revived L'Elisir just for him in 1904 at the old opera house on Broadway and 39th street.

Enrico Caruso (1873-1921)
when he recorded Una Furtiva Lagrima
in 1904, as heard in this youtube



    And in our own time, Luciano Pavarotti defined the role of Nemorino as no one else could have.   

    They say that Donizetti got ill in 1843 and went to Paris for treatment. They say that he was manic-depressive and may have contracted syphilis. They say that he died insane in 1848, at the age of 51, back in Bergamo at the home of friends. What posterity can say is the following:  that opera conjured by the masterful musical alchemist Gaetano Donizetti became a coruscating diamond, a jewel which still dazzles. He crafted a king's ransom of operatic treasures of  such poignant tragedy and comic happiness which continue, almost two hundred years later, magically to resonate in our hearts and spirits today. Bravo, Gaetano, Bravissimo!

Copyright 2012  Vincent de Luise MD   A Musical Vision