Among his very last compositions, The Magic Flute remains one of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s (1756-1791) most beloved works. Called by its original German title, Die Zauberflöte is a two-act singspiel. That genre was once extremely popular, noted for its free mixture of sung music and lengthy passages of spoken dialogue. Singspiels originated in Germany, and most examples (including several by Mozart, as well as Weber’s Der Freischütz) are set in that language rather than Italian or French, which was more common for traditional opera. Plot elements often borrow heavily from the supernatural and merge both high art and folk culture. In the case of Die Zauberflöte, an additional symbolic aspect – Freemasonry – offers another level of interpretive complexity to a work filled with intrigue, colorful characters, and, of course, brilliant music. What started out as a fairly simple fairy tale set to music took on a larger significance in light of the Masonic symbolism.

Mozart’s partner on The Magic Flute was Emanuel Schikaneder: writer, impresario, actor, and owner of the theater where the work would be premiered in September 1791, just two months before the composer’s death. Both Mozart and Schikaneder were Freemasons, the former having been initiated at Vienna’s most prestigious lodge in 1784. The two first met a decade earlier when Schikaneder’s roaming theatre troupe passed through Salzburg. They remained in touch after Schikaneder settled into a residency at a new playhouse, the Theater auf der Wieden. Situated in Vienna’s suburbs, this facility catered to the general public rather than the artistocracy. A few minor collaborations developed, often facilitated by their Masonic brethren, before Die Zauberflöte came to fruition in 1791.

In contrast to all of Mozart’s other operas, The Magic Flute would be written specifically for popular consumption rather than royal approval. To craft the story, Schikaneder drew upon a host of source materials. In brief, the Queen of the Night summons Prince Tamino to rescue her daughter Pamina from the menacing High Priest Sarastro. But in fact, Sarastro’s enlightened beliefs cause Tamino to reconsider his mission. He will rescue Pamina but then join with her and Sarastro to the unending torment of the Queen. The nature of this plot invites ulterior, symbolic readings that are only bolstered by what appear to be numerous Masonic codes within the score. Whatever Mozart’s intentions with regard to such symbolism, there can be little doubt that Schikaneder’s libretto valorized enlightenment ideals over traditional monarchy. Sarastro, an Egyptian priest modeled on the Persian Zoroaster, gains the upper hand on the domineering Queen of the Night, variously interpreted as a depiction of authority, in general, or Empress Maria Theresa in particular. The Empress suppressed Masonic gatherings, reinforcing an official church ban on the order.

ACT ONE

Musically speaking, clues of the Masonic backstory come out boldly in the opera’s very first notes. Mozart launches the overture with a fanfare rich in subversive content. The masons celebrated the number three (ironically just like the church), and Mozart’s overture strides forth with three fortissimo triads in the key with three flats, E-flat major. The slow introduction, wonderfully tinged by darkening chromatic tones, yields quickly to one of the greatest themes Mozart ever created. This Allegro idea manages to capture both learned counterpoint in an athletic fugue superposed by echoes of the opening three-chord summons – Mozart’s study of Bach had been very fruitful – and the infectious energy of a folksy people’s opera. As if this were not enough, he features solo winds during the second theme, thereby reinforcing the all-important flute element that becomes almost a character in itself. The entire overture seems to conclude abruptly after just three minutes. Instead, what has transpired so far is merely the “statement” portion of a familiar sonata form movement, to be followed next by a probing development and grand recapitulation rounded off with three final E-flat chords. This rich music rewards repeated listenings; as in his late symphonies, Mozart achieves here a facile sophistication that almost defies comprehension.

Fresh on the heels of this agile and invigorating overture, Act One opens in medias res with Tamino’s plea for help from the gods (“Zu Hilfe!”). Mozart uses rushing strings in the minor mode to dramatize Tamino’s flight from a gigantic serpent. As he faints from sheer fright, he is rescued by three attendants of the Queen of the Night, each coveting this handsome stranger for herself – note the ingratiating musical tone. After they depart, Tamino awakens only to be encountered by Papageno, one of the opera’s most beloved roles. In his aria “Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja,” Papageno laments his loveless existence in amazingly carefree tones. Successful as he is in catching birds, he has been equally unsuccessful in snaring a young wife.

The Three Ladies return to reprimand Papageno for claiming to have saved Tamino from the monster. As they exit, they leave Tamino to gaze on the enchanting portrait of the Queen’s daughter (“Dies Bildniss ist bezaubernnd schön”) without explaining precisely why they brought it to him. We finally meet the Queen and learn that her daughter Pamina has been abducted by the powerful priest Sarastro. In an extended recitative and aria, the Queen explains her plight, generates sympathy for her loss, and empowers Tamino to do what she apparently could not: save her daughter.  Mozart captures her charm and magic through astonishing coloratura scales and luminous leaps above high C.

Tamino and Papageno head off on a quest to rescue Pamina. One of Tamino’s tools will be a magic flute presented to him by the Three Ladies during the Quintet from Act One. Mozart brilliantly merges musical complexity with lighthearted comedy, starting with Papageno’s interjected mumbling “Hm, hm, hm!” (he has had his mouth chained shut for lying). But additionally, this Quintet benefits from the cross purposes of the characters involved: Tamino seeking adventure and possible love, aided by the magic flute; and Papageno, who wishes to avoid realms ruled over by the mysterious Sarastro. Pulling them together, musically and dramatically, are the three radiant female voices. And thus, in six delightful minutes we hear Mozart’s take on both magic and mischief.

The next two scenes shift to Sarastro’s realm. We meet Pamina in the clutches of Monostathos and his lackeys. Papageno soon enters, sent in advance by Tamino, and he and Monostathos mistake each other for the devil. Their comic confrontation lasts but a moment, unfolding in mirrored stuttering gestures. More important action involves an extended duet between the princess and the bird catcher. Pamina has been informed that Tamino loves her and will arrive soon to save her, but her rapture at this news only underscores Papageno’s misery at not having love in his own life. Their duet (“Bei Männern welche Liebe fühlen”) introduces one of the opera’s primary morals: the harmony and redemptive value of marital bliss.

Scene 3 finally brings the seeming antagonist, High Priest Sarastro, to the stage but only after a series of episodes to heighten the effect. First, Tamino is ushered to the temple by Three Youths who join him in a quartet about the virtues of patience and devotion – hallmarks, it may be noted, of any good mason. Twice denied entrance to the temple, Tamino finally gains access via the Door of Wisdom, where he is confronted in a series of accompanied recitatives by the imposing gatekeeper. This figure attempts to explain Sarastro’s true nature to the impetuous hero. Uplifted by hearing that Pamina still lives, Tamino draws out his magic flute, enchanting the wild creatures nearby and eliciting an off-stage response from Papageno (“Wie stark ist nicht dein Zauberton”). The latter’s carefree aria breaks off mid-phrase as Tamino pauses to think on Pamina’s captivity. Mozart deconstructs the basic flow of the music, allowing the action to ebb and flow in lockstep with Tamino’s flittering resolve.

Papageno, in company with Pamina, tries to escape, but both are recaptured by Monostathos and presented to the High Priest. The princess confesses her desire to flee rather than be forced to love Monostathos. Sarastro admits he only desires her happiness. Yet, because he mistrusts the intentions of her mother, he will not release Pamina. In a surprising show of tenderness, he paternally advises her to rely on the advice and care of a man. (What’s not surprising, considering Mozart’s era, is Die Zauberflöte’s overt and unwelcome misogyny.) That man, Tamino, finally sees his beloved in the flesh, though their embrace is interrupted by Sarastro’s priests until after the couple have proven their worth. In a clearly symbolic passage, Act One closes with a rousing C-major chorus (“Wenn Tugend und Gerechtigkeit”) intoning how virtue and justice alone can make mortals worthy of happiness in this life.

ACT TWO

Act Two of The Magic Flute centers on two plotlines and one subsidiary element. First, the primary action involves trials of initiation faced by Tamino and Papageno. The High Priest explains the reasons to bring these initiatives within the temple, as well as the grounds for his quarrel with the Queen of the Night. Each section of his speech is met by three blasts from winds and brass in clear evocation of the overture’s opening notes. In the following aria, Sarastro solemnly calls upon the Egyptian gods Isis and Osiris to watch over the two candidates. Tamino lives up to the first challenge – remaining silent in the face of temptation – though Papageno cannot resist chattering away when enticed by the Three Ladies (“Wie, wie, wie”). Even later, when brought into the presence of his beloved, Tamino maintains his silence, which Pamina interprets as a cooling of his affections. She reacts with understandable despair in a dolorous aria (“Ach, ich fühl’s, es ist verschwunden”), but have faith – all will be well in the end!

The second main story line brings the Queen of the Night back into the action. She is upset that her daughter will not reject Tamino after he agrees to undergo the priestly trials. The Queen even commands her daughter to kill her beloved in a tempestuous D minor aria, as if lifted from Don Giovanni or the powerful Requiem (“Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen”).  Mozart’s brilliant coloratura writing capture the Queen’s anxiety and tyrannical power. Moreover, she has promised Pamina to the lecherous Monostathos, who seems intent on switching allegiances out of lust for the princess and his earlier abuse by the High Priest. Sarastro ejects Monostathos from the scene and reveals his integrity in a soaring E major aria (“In diesen heil’gen Hallen”). Taking courage from his presence, Pamina defies her mother’s wishes and decides to undergo the more demanding initiation rituals alongside her beloved (“Tamino mein, o welch ein Glück!”). Her gradual shift toward the realm of Tamino/Sarastro at the expense of filial bonds to her mother – from the spirit of revenge toward the calm light of forgiveness – is an important aspect of her development throughout Act Two.

The subsidiary plot line involves Papageno and his continuing search for a mate. In the act’s fourth scene, he meets an older woman who offers him a cup of water to quench his thirst. They playfully flirt, during which Papageno learns that this woman has a boyfriend with his same name! She is whisked away before he can learn her identity. Papageno continues his unending refrain – to find a wife – in a solo aria, “Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen.” Shortly thereafter, the pair are reunited by the priests. This time the woman brings Papageno a glass of wine; the contrast of water versus wine was originally raised in Act One, when the Three Ladies shower the bird catcher with water rather than his usual vintage.

All is resolved now as Papageno rises to the occasion. The old woman, living under a spell, informs Papageno that he will be held captive forever unless he agrees to marry her, then and there. He assents and the spell is instantly broken, revealing the woman to be a much younger, and much prettier, maiden. Their immediate nuptials are delayed once again by priests, who declare Papageno unworthy of this honest girl. In a passage parallel to Pamina’s ordeal, Papageno sinks into despair at losing his Papagena and is only saved from suicide by the timely arrival of the Three Youths – who perform the same kindness to Pamina elsewhere in the act.  Our aviary pair regale each other with the musical equivalent of a courting dance, poured forth by Mozart with his consummate ease and frivolity.

Both couples at this point have survived their various ordeals and arrive safely in each others’ arms. All that remains is for the spiteful Queen of the Night, Monostathos, and the Three Ladies to get their just desserts. They are cast aside, and Sarastro announces the symbolic victory of the sun over the moon, truth over deception, and in essence, enlightened rule over despotism. Mozart glorifies the moment with a grand final chorus, and radiant E-flat major resounds throughout the hall.

Despite the pall of sadness that hovers over Mozart’s final days, he was clearly composing at the peak of his abilities and with astonishing speed in 1791. Having completed a series of obligations by early spring, he began working fulltime on Die Zauberflöte in May. We can track its progress due to letters Mozart wrote his wife Costanze, who was pregnant and resting in Baden. Two months later, nearly every note was written. A few finishing touches, including the overture, had to be delayed because an important new operatic commission arrived in mid-July from the royal Bohemian court. La clemenza di Tito premiered in Prague on September 6, clearing the way for Mozart’s final edits on The Magic Flute, after which he would be consumed – physically and emotionally – by the Requiem.

Die Zauberflöte premiered on the final day of September 1791 with the composer conducting and several friends and family – including Schikaneder as Papageno and Mozart’s talented sister-in-law Josepha (Weber) Hofer as The Queen of the Night – among the cast. It would be a critical and popular success, enjoying a run of 100 performances already by late 1792, though Mozart did not live to see that milestone. He was clearly moved to see the opera’s popular appeal, and his final letters to his wife that October are filled with good spirits. To this day it remains one of his most performed compositions in any genre.

Jason Stell, © 2025