I have yet to encounter anyone, professional critic or lay viewer, who thinks the music of The Magic Flute is anything less than sublime. Conventional scholarly and lay wisdom about the literary aspects of the opera, however, that is about its libretto, its plot, character development, and so forth, holds that at best it is a seriously flawed patchwork, a free-masonic camel created by a committee of presumably inebriated brothers of the craft. (This bias was in nowise diminished, parenthetically, by the view of Mozart's rival Salieri from his insane asylum as portrayed in the Milos Forman film Amadeus presumably also in Peter Shaffer's stage version, which I have not read or seen where Emanuel Schikaneder, Mozart's librettist, comes off as a kind of charlatan/impresario/slavedriver/clown. But if you fell for Shaffer/Salieri's view of Mozart as a cackling Tom Hulse in a fright wig, why wouldn't you believe Schikaneder as a Viennese blend of P.T. Barnum and Al Bundy, whose low-brow, ribald productions in his Theater auf der Wieden specialized in sausages pulled from the rear-end of a papier-mâché horse?)
The matter is further complicated by the fact that no one knows for sure who actually wrote the libretto: most believe that Mozart was very much involved in the writing himself, something I tend to believe, also, without much explicit evidence to support it.
The conventional view (which has some detractors) has it that the plot and the characters of The Magic Flute suffered from a shift which allegedly occurred after Mozart had already composed the lion's share of the music. One explanation commonly advanced is that in June, five months before the premiere of Die Zauberflöte on September 30, 1791, a competing Viennese house, Das Theater in der Leopoldstadt, began producing an opera entitled Kaspar der Fagottist oder die Zauberzither (Caspar the Bassoonist or The Magic Zither). According to this version of the story, Mozart's libretto-writing team allegedly decided half-way through the opera to turn their plot upside down, in order not to appear to have borrowed from their competitors. (It isn't clear to me how this change prevented the appearance of appropriation, and if the theory were viable, one wonders why the libretto team didn't drop the remarkably similar title as well!)
Another explanation commonly advanced is that the libretto team was influenced midway through by the Freemasons and persuaded by them to stand everything on its head. But since Mozart, Schikaneder, Karl Ludwig Gieseke, and Ignaz von Born were all brothers of the Lodge and had been since long before the beginning of the project, this explanation also seems a bit implausible.
In fact, I find both explanations quite untenable, without any real evidence to support them other than the post-hoc-ergo-propter-hoc assumption that there surely must be some reason why the plot changes half-way through. My argument in this paper is that in fact the plot does not change, that the plot is not fractured, that it is in reality an extremely sophisticated symbolic vehicle, carefully crafted from start to finish.
I will attempt to show that the opera is a lesson in Sein und Schein (Reality and Apparent Reality), an exercise in learning to see through appearances and in learning to examine commonly held premises and assumptions. In short, the first part of the opera is, in my view, an intentional deception, which certain protagonists are invited to penetrate and debunk.
Just as some protagonists of the opera learn to question allegations, innuendo, circumstantial evidence, rumor, and other manifestations of apparent truth, members of the audience are invited by the opera to participate in the same epistemological exercise, whereby they learn to discover the Sein beneath the deceptive Schein. Let's briefly review the plot:
As the opera opens, the hero Tamino is saved by the three ladies-in-waiting of the Sternflammende Königin (Starflaming Queen) from a serpent (or a lion or dragon in some versions) which has been pursuing him. They and their Queen present themselves to Tamino as paragons of virtue, whereas, as they inform Tamino, their opposite number, the paragon of evil, is a despicable sorcerer named Sarastro, who has kidnapped the Queen's daughter Pamina.
Circumstantial evidence seems to support their claims: In addition to killing the evil snake and saving Tamino, the ladies perform other apparently moral acts such as placing a lock on the bird-catcher Papageno's mouth because he has told a lie when he attempts to take credit for killing the serpent. Then they editorialize that the world would be a better place if all people had a lock placed on their mouths whenever they told a lie. (It might be well to recall at this juncture, however, that in many literary works one thinks of Shakespeare it is often the worst villains who spout the most moralistic bromides, all the good one-liners one hears quoted in sermons: "...he who steals my purse steals dross..." "...to thine own self be true...")
In the midst of all this moralizing it's also easy to overlook the fact that while Tamino is unconscious, the three ladies drop their ladylike decorum and in a scene laden with erotic desire nearly come to blows over which one of them is to remain alone with him whilst the other two go off to inform the Queen.
These subtle clues notwithstanding, at this point in the opera to all appearances it is the Queen and her ladies who are the source of good: When Tamino agrees to go off on a quest to save the fair Pamina from the evil Sarastro, the ladies provide him with the magic flute to help him on his way, and they provide a set of magic bells for Papageno, whom they must sweetly coerce into going along, because he has heard (from them) that Sarastro is: "wie ein Tigertier! Sicher ließ ohn' alle Gnaden mich Sarastro rupfen, braten, setzte mich den Hunden für." (Reclam, pp. 19-20) (Like a beastly tiger! Surely Sarastro would have me mercilessly plucked and roasted and served to the dogs.)
Finally, the ladies point out the existence of three young genii, three young male spirit guides, who will show the intrepid rescuers the way to Sarastro's fortress (Burg) as they call it. (Nowhere are we told that these cherubs are actually under the control of the Queen and her ladies, but in the beginning, to the casual observer it certainly looks like they are.)
Despite all the indications that the ladies and the Queen are what they say they are, something inside Tamino wonders if it wasn't really all done with smoke and mirrors after all and he asks the gods to guide him through his epistemological test; he asks them not to deceive him: "Ist's denn auch Wirklichkeit, was ich sah? Oder betäuben mich meine Sinne? Oh, ihr guten Götter! Täuscht mich nicht, oder ich unterliege eurer Prüfung. Schützet meinen Arm, stählt meinen Mut, und Taminos Herz wird ewigen Dank euch entgegenschlagen." (Reclam, p. 18) (Is this actually Reality, that I saw? Or are my senses deceiving me? Oh, ye good gods! Don't deceive me or I'll fail to pass your test. Protect my arm, steel my courage, and Tamino's heart will beat eternal thanks to you!) Keep this prayer in mind as we continue with the story:
Arriving at the sorcerer's "fortress" before Tamino, Papageno almost immediately encounters a frightening, evil being, Monostatos, a black-skinned Moor who is at that very moment pursuing Pamina as she attempts to escape. This, and the fact that Monostatos commands a band of slaves, naturally serves to substantiate everyone's view that Sarastro is the bad guy.
The Moor is as frightened at Papageno's bird-like appearance as Papageno is of the Moor's black skin: When they meet they cry out, in unison: "Das ist -- der Teuf--el si--cherlich!" (Reclam, p. 23) (This is the de--v--il for su--re!) They both flee but Papageno returns immediately having quickly applied sweet reason to the problem: Wait a minute: there are black birds in this world, why shouldn't there be black people? Yet Monostatos seems unquestionably to be Sarastro's man, acting in Sarastro's name with his slaves to re-kidnap the gentle Pamina. By association, Sarastro must be a bad man too.
So far, it is clear to the uncritical viewer and to conventional critics alike that the Queen and her forces are the good guys and Sarastro and his forces are the bad guys. Somewhere at about this point, however, as conventional wisdom has it, comes the fracture in the plot: in the end Sarastro is the good guy and the Queen is the bad guy. This, we are told, is bad writing, a case of a plot changed in mid-stream. But is it? Let's continue:
Tamino himself is eventually led by the three boys, each with a palm branch, a symbol of peace, in his hand, to what Tamino expected to be Sarastro's fortress. However, his expectation that it is the seat of an evil sorcerer is not borne out by its architecture: the columns and the portals all seem to him to testify that reason and diligence and the arts reside here and that evil cannot be enthroned in such a place. (Fortunately Tamino seems to have taken a humanities class.) With columns and portals it does not seem to be a fortress at all, but a beautiful temple set in a sacred locus, a Hain, a grove of trees like those in Elysium or the Garden of Eden, the dwelling-place of the gods: "Wo bin ich nun?" he says, "Was wird mit mir? Ist dies der Sitz der Götter hier? Es zeigen die Pforten, es zeigen die Säulen, daß Klugheit und Arbeit und Künste hier weilen. Wo Tätigkeit thronet und Müßiggang weicht, erhält seine Herrschaft das Laster nicht leicht." (Reclam, p. 28) (Where am I now? What's happening to me? Is this the seat of the gods here? The portals, the columns, all show that intelligence and diligence and the arts reside here. Where activity is enthroned and idleness is kept away, vice cannot easily gain control.)
The central temple bears the inscription: Temple of Wisdom. It is linked by colonnades on either side to two other temples bearing the inscriptions: Temple of Reason and Temple of Nature. Totally fixed upon his mission to free the fair young damsel in distress, however, Tamino represses for the moment his cognitive dissonance about the discrepancy between what he has been told about Sarastro and the aesthetic evidence before him. Summoning up all his courage, Tamino boldly walks up to one of the three portals and opens the door. "Zurück!" (Reclam, p. 29) (Get back!) a hidden chorus commands. The same happens at the second portal. This doesn't seem an hospitable place at all! Very likely it is the fortress of an evil sorcerer after all. Finally, however, at the third, central, portal, he gains admission and encounters a priest in his study.
A discussion ensues between the priest and Tamino about just who the bad guys are and how one can know what is truth and what is falsehood. The priest asks Tamino: "Wo willst du, kühner Fremdling, hin? Was suchst du hier im Heiligtum?" (Where do you want to go, bold stranger? What do you seek here in this holy place?) Oddly enough, Tamino does not reply "Ich suche Pamina," (I seek Pamina) but makes a rather more cryptic statement: "Der Lieb' und Tugend Eigentum." (That which is the property of love and virtue.) "Die Worte sind von hohem Sinn!" (These word have noble meaning) replies the priest, whose next statement reveals that he is very wise, perhaps even clairvoyant: "Allein wie willst du diese finden? Dich leitet Lieb' und Tugend nicht, weil Tod und Rache dich entzünden." (But how will you find these things? Love and virtue do not lead you, because death and revenge inflame you.)
"Nur Rache für den Bösewicht," (Only revenge for the villain) says Tamino. "Den wirst du wohl bei uns nicht finden" (I don't think you'll find him here) the priest replies. "Sarastro herrscht in diesen Gründen?" (Sarastro rules this area?) asks Tamino. "Ja, ja, Sarastro herrschet hier!" (Yes, yes, Sarastro rules here!) "Doch in dem Weisheitstempel nicht?" (But surely not here in the temple of wisdom?) "Er herrscht im Weisheitstempel hier!" (He rules here in the temple of wisdom!)
Tamino cries out: "So ist denn alles Heuchelei!" (So then everything is hypocrisy!) and turns to leave. (This is an interesting statement, since the antecedent of the word alles (everything) is left open: It may mean Tamino believes the architectural evidence that this is the seat of the gods is bogus, but his statement can also be read against the grain to mean that he is perhaps on the verge of discovering that everything the Queen and her minions have been telling him is in fact hypocrisy.) When the priest asks him: "Willst du schon wieder gehen?" (Do you want to leave already?) Tamino replies: "Ja, ich will gehn, froh und frei, nie euren Tempel sehn." (Yes, I want to leave, happy and free, never to see your temple.) The priest then expressly reinforces the notion that Tamino has been purposely deceived: "Erklär dich näher mir, dich täuschet ein Betrug." (Explain yourself more clearly, a deceit has led you astray.)
Tamino replies that if Sarastro rules here that's enough for him. The priest asks if he hates Sarastro. "Ich haß ihn ewig! Ja!" (I hate him eternally! Yes!) "Nun gib mir deine Gründe an," (Well, then, give me your reasons) says the priest. "Er ist ein Unmensch, ein Tyrann" (He is a monster, a tyrant) replies Tamino. "Ist das, was du gesagt, erwiesen?" (Is what you say proven?) "Durch ein unglücklich Weib bewiesen," (Proven by means of an unhappy woman) says Tamino. "Ein Weib hat also dich berückt? (So, a woman deceived you?) says the priest, before uttering the first of many misogynistic statements in The Magic Flute (about which more presently): "Ein Weib tut wenig, plaudert viel. Du, Jüngling, glaubst dem Zungenspiel? O legte doch Sarastro dir die Absicht seiner Handlung für." (A woman does little, chatters a lot. You, young man, believe such a game of the tongue? Oh, if only Sarastro would lay before you his intentions, the reasons for his actions.)
Tamino doesn't think he needs to know any more than he already knows: "Die Absicht ist nur allzu klar; Riß nicht der Räuber ohn' Erbarmen Pamina aus der Mutter Armen?" (His intentions are all too clear; Didn't the thief mercilessly tear Pamina from her mother's arms?) The priest does not deny that Sarastro has taken Pamina from her mother: "Ja, Jüngling! Was du sagst, ist wahr." (Yes, young man, what you say is true) but says he is prevented by an oath and by his duty from explaining the reasons at this point.
Tamino fears they've already killed Pamina as a sacrifice on the altar: "Man opferte vielleicht sie schon?" (Maybe she's already been sacrificed on the altar?) which reminds one, parenthetically, of all the rumors floating around in 19th century anti-Mormon literature about what happens in Mormon temples to young girls who have been kidnapped from their homes!
"Wann also wird die Decke schwinden?" (So when will the veil be lifted?) asks Tamino in despair, but beginning to understand that he doesn't understand. "Sobald dich führt der Freundschaft Hand ins Heiligtum zum ew'gen Band," (As soon as the hand of friendship leads you into the holy place for the purpose of creating eternal bands) replies the priest before departing. Alone now, Tamino utters a significant apostrophe to eternal night, which begs to be associated with the Queen of the Night, in which he asks when his eye will find and be found by the light: "O ewige Nacht, wann wirst du schwinden? Wann wird das Licht mein Auge finden?" (Reclam, pp. 29-30) (Oh, eternal night, when will you disappear? When will my eye find and be found by the light?)
Eventually bits of the puzzle start to become clear: we soon learn, for instance, that the evil Moor had demanded love from Pamina, and it was his attempted rape which had made her want to flee, not any desire to flee from Sarastro. On the contrary, it emerges that just as Monostatos was about to lay his hands on her, she calls out the name of Sarastro, which so terrified the Moor that he allowed her to escape.
The existence of "slaves" in the temple may be similarly explained: just as Monostatos had attempted to force his will on Pamina, he has unjustly enslaved others in Sarastro's name by misusing his authority within Sarastro's realm. In any event, when Sarastro learns of his bad behavior he sentences him to 77 stripes on the soles of his feet.
Later, when Monostatos, who has not given up, attempts to black-mail Pamina into loving him by threatening to expose her mother's plot to assassinate Sarastro, Sarastro dismisses him without further punishment. He explains in a beautiful aria that "In diesen heil'gen Hallen kennt man die Rache nicht," (Within these holy walls revenge is not known) and that love leads people to do their duty, not force. The further text of his aria explains why he tolerated Monostatos in his realm and why he does not intend to take any revenge on the Queen of the Night: "In diesen heil'gen Mauern, wo Mensch den Menschen liebt, kann kein Verräter lauern, weil man dem Feind vergibt." (Reclam, p. 51) (Within these holy walls, where a human being loves another human being, no traitor can lurk, because enemies are forgiven.)
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