There’s a lie we like to tell ourselves: bullies are mean because they are actually insecure, depressed, unloved, and lonely. That might make us feel better when someone is picking on us, but the truth of the matter is, bullies are jerks who are living the good life at the top of the social ladder.

And that’s why there are stories like Don Juan: seducer, rapist, murderer, liar, and just about the most horrible person you can dream up. Mozart‘s operatic version of the story, Don Giovanni, begins with the main character seducing the daughter of a knight, before then killing her father – with no regrets for any of his actions. The opera concludes with a triumphant moment of justice, when the murdered knight appears as a ghost who offers Giovanni one last chance to repent – Giovanni, however, would never stoop so low. The knight grabs him by the hand and pulls him down to hell. Everybody else then casually sits around and agrees that Giovanni had what was coming to him.

Fate can be a meany mean jerk-face sometimes! Poor Carl Orff  had an established career as a composer and was well known for his work with children’s music education. When he was 40, he composed his great oratorio Carmina Burana, and after it became so popular, he asked his publisher to destroy all his previous work, so that Carmina would mark the beginning of his career.

Nope. Sorry. Your fate has already been decided. You will only be known for this one composition.

But what a composition it is! It’s everywhere – you can find it in movies, video games, commercials, sports events, and flash mobs (I was there!) It’s an awesome romp through the carnal pleasures of life – some of the poems are quite erotic, some philosophical, some are brutal mockery, some are just plain weird, and yes, there are even fart jokes.

But since we’re ramping up to Halloween … let’s pass on those and stick to scary old fate.

English translation from Carl Orff himself:

O Fortune, like the moon of ever changing state, you are always waxing or waning; hateful life now is brutal, now pampers our feelings with its game; poverty, power, it melts them like ice.

Fate, savage and empty, you are a turning wheel, your position is uncertain, your favour is idle and always likely to disappear; covered in shadows and veiled you bear upon me too; now my back is naked through the sport of your wickedness.

The chance of prosperity and of virtue is not now mine; whether willing or not, a man is always liable for Fortune’s service. At this hour without delay touch the strings! Because through luck she lays low the brave, all join with me in lamentation!

I mourn the blows of Fortune with flowing eyes, because her gifts she has treacherously taken back from me. Opportunity is rightly described as having hair on her forehead, but there usually follows the bald patch at the back.

On the throne of Fortune I had sat elated, crowned with the gay flower of prosperity; however much I flourished, happy and blessed, now I have fallen from the pinnacle, deprived of my glory.

The wheel of Fortune turns; I sink, debased; another is raised up; lifted too high, a king sits on the top; let him beware of ruin! Under the axle we read, Queen Hecuba.

 

 

I’ve written about Mozart‘s Requiem before – how it has become the Requiem by which we judge all other Requiems. The music runs the gamut of musical expression, and you could argue that it’s unabashed display of dark emotions foreshadows the end of the classical era and the beginning of the romantic.

The work is shrouded in mystery and legend. This is largely the fault of Mozart’s widow Constanze, who started spreading lies about the piece the day after Mozart died. This wasn’t completely her fault – if word got out that the piece was unfinished at the time of his death, she wouldn’t receive the payment for the work. She secretly had some of Mozart’s students finish the composition; to this day there is disagreement as to who finished which movements. She was aware that the person who commissioned the work might try to pass it off as his own music (the person was famous for doing so.) But, she also claimed that Mozart was poisoned and that he knew he was writing his own funeral music. That’s just good for business.

However, it’s important to note that in general, human beings like to make legends out of things they love, even if the legends end up being gross exaggerations of the truth. For example, he didn’t get tossed into a pauper’s grave, he had a regular middle-class tomb. His burial was not unattended, and there was no dark storm that day.

Like yesterday’s post, there is much scholarship surrounding this work, so it’s fair to say we know what parts Mozart wrote and which parts were finished by another composer. Even if it’s not 100% Mozart, it’s still a marvelous work, and the dark circumstances surrounding it add to its mysterious flavor. Listening to the Dies Irae, I can’t help but feel that Mozart was genuinely afraid of his own death.