Zaide K. 344, Herr und Freund

In spite, what some tell us… There are some lions we cannot tame alone. There are some bullies we cannot crush, unless the bully’s buds stand against him. There are some afflictions we cannot bear. Beneath all the layers of faked out bad-assary or shells of sarcastic cynicism, many of us have come to the point where we know we can’t beat that Goliath.  It could be something as simple as a goal, or as challenging as a battle with cancer. In those times, our only refuge is the rescue of a more powerful or knowledgeable party.

So imagine, in the midst of our hyperventilated-sobbing despair, someone trudges through the muck to assist. What are our reactions? I know I have various. But, let’s add a more extreme example. Say, you’re captured by a group of terrorists. They plan to slay for display. One lone guard wakes you one night and says, “Run. The nearest city is…” He lets you go, although it certainly may mean his death. Sure, you could be bitter because his tolerance of the of the group allowed you to get caught, but would that really be your reaction?

Similarly, Gomatz gets caught by Allazim, his slavemaster, pursuing his love of Zaide. Allazim’s job is to punish Gomatz, even though he has done nothing wrong. To do anything else would mean certain death—for both Gomatz and Allazim. (At least, if caught.) Yet, Allazim offers mercy. He doesn’t offer a clear and absolute solution, but he vows to do anything he can to help. Herr und Freund is Gomatz’s reaction to Allazim’s sacrificial act of kindness.

The music plays with emotions in a way only Mozart can do. To describe it best, I would say this aria is one of joyful crying.  But not in the manner of Bach, as if to say, “I’m suffering this horrible trail, but I have found peace through it.” But, more as if to say, “I’m going through this horrible trial, and I’m so miserably happy that you’re willing to go through it with me. I’m helpless. I can’t do this alone, and you’re actions have given me hope, even if I still have no chance of escaping this trial.” The music is that of a man on his knees, sobbing, repeating his thanks.

The back-story curiosity in me wonders how a slave and a slavemaster managed to become friends. (I have played with this in my YA version of Zaide.) What was Mozart thinking at the time? Operas don’t fill in a lot of back-story. Did Mozart have a narrative in his head, or was he not concerned? And, did Mozart have this type of relationship with anyone. I read somewhere that he was good friend with the Liberest of Zaide, Johann Andreas Schachtner. But, how deep was it? Or, was his simply longing for this type of friendship? How did Mozart hit so rightly those musical emotions?

I’ve done various reading, and surely I could and should do a lot more, but only one man sticks out to me as that type of friend, in Mozart’s life. I’m pretty sure this man came into Mozart’s life after Zaide. Haydn. Haydn is similar to Allazim in many ways. Not to call him a slavemaster, but he was definitely the middle management of the music world at that time. Haydn was one of the most encouraging historical figures in any genre that I can think of. Mozart? Beethoven? He trudged through the muck for his friends. Probably, like Allazim, he knew what it was like to be mire. Maybe, this world would be a better place if more people fought for others (and I don’t mean fight for others in order to get credit for champion a cause) instead of fighting for their own passions.

Unfortunately, I think I’m more like Mozart, than Haydn, in that regard. I want to be an encourager. I try to be. Those types of people are more enjoyable to be around. (And they are often more successful.) I even troll various other blogs and such, trying to find someone to encourage. Someone I think could do something.  But, I am afraid of and disgusted by flattery. One, I don’t want to say something nice to someone, solely to use them as a piggyback for my success.  I want to actually like the things I say I like. And two, I’m afraid my sincere comments will be construed as flattery.  (Or as creepy stalking.) Maybe that’s the problem, I’m afraid to go through the muck… To take a risk to help someone else.

Zaide K. 344, Der stolze löw’ lasst sich zwar zähmen

Who can inflict more pain? The wretch who finds pleasure in making others miserable? Osmin. Or the mourner of a battered heart? Soliman.  While the pure sadist will seek opportunities to inflict pain, he will not do it at expense of self. The truly selfish sort is limited by his or her selfishness. The obsessive inflicted however, will (even at his own expense) tear into those who have hurt him.

I’ve heard some psychobabble about the first stage of grief being denial. When tragedy strikes, there is the numb, surreal fuzzy state that makes it feel as if our eyes aren’t attached to our brains right. We’re deadened. “This thing that didn’t happened. It can’t be real.” Or, in Soliman’s voice, “It is not possible that my treasure left me for a dirty, disgusting slave.” No new physical or emotional pain could possibly sting away the deadened state.

Der stolze löw’ lasst sich zwar zähmen reflects a deadened determination. It is the aria of a man who seeks no joy in what he has determined to do, but doesn’t care. He is going to hurt Zaide. Make her pay for falling in love with another. The kettledrums (or timpani) slam with determination, like a man beating his chest or slamming his fist into a wall in order to feel something. The pace quickens and heightens like a soul suffering a panic attack. “This can’t be real. This can’t be real. I won't let it be real. I’ll make it not real.” The music seems to say.

All the while, the music still carries elements of stoic nobility. The inflicted often seek to justify their actions. We all recognize certain historical figures as pure evil, but would those figures have said that of themselves? No. Surely, they were convinced their actions were just. (Aside: how often, in similar manners, do we assume we’re justified?) Adding to the animal imagery, Soliman declares he is a lion. A man who devours the flatterer. Zaide being the cruelest of sorts, in his mind.  Of course, he is deaf to his own cruelty. The cruelty that made her flatter… and made her leave.

Did such emotions hyperventilate through Mozart’s head as he wrote this ditty? Not to say he was out to be cruel, but I could imagine him thinking of Alloysia, “What a cruel wench? Tearing my heart from my ribs after my mother died!” I wonder how those dynamics worked after he married Alloysia’s sister.