Opers Die Schweigsame Frau Program Notes, Sheet Music and Recordings

Program Notes & Analysis

A "Non-Aryan" Masterpiece in the Third Reich

The story of Die schweigsame Frau is not just what happens on stage; it is the unbelievable, real-life drama of its creation. In 1929, Richard Strauss’s legendary librettist, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, died, leaving the composer "orphaned." He found a new, brilliant partner in the world-famous Jewish Austrian writer, Stefan Zweig. Zweig, a master of psychology, proposed an "opera buffa" based on a Ben Jonson play. Strauss was ecstatic. The two men, in a flurry of respectful, excited letters, forged a masterpiece. But by the time the opera was completed in 1934, the world had changed. Hitler was in power. Strauss, in a deeply controversial move, had accepted the post of President of the Reichsmusikkammer (the Nazi state music bureau). His collaboration with Zweig, a prominent Jewish intellectual, was now politically "impossible." The Nazi regime was furious. Strauss, however, used his immense cultural power and "naïve" stubbornness, insisting that Zweig's name be printed on the libretto. "My librettist is Stefan Zweig," he demanded. Hitler, a reluctant admirer of Strauss, allowed the 1935 Dresden premiere to proceed, but the opera was "toxic." Strauss's "treasonous" pro-Zweig letters were intercepted by the Gestapo. After three performances, Die schweigsame Frau was banned in Germany. This "act of defiance" effectively ended Strauss's official position in the Reich and forced his beloved collaborator, Zweig, into the exile that would ultimately lead to his tragic suicide. The opera, a "comedy of joy," was born from the darkest, most tragic "comedy of errors" imaginable.

A "New Don Pasquale"

Zweig’s libretto is, by his own admission, a direct, loving homage to the great Italian opera buffa tradition. In fact, it is almost a "remake" of Gaetano Donizetti’s 1843 masterpiece, Don Pasquale. The parallels are exact: a wealthy, grumpy old basso buffo (Morosus / Don Pasquale) hates his tenor nephew (Henry / Ernesto) for falling in love with a "scandalous" woman (Aminta, an opera singer / Norina, a widow). The old man decides to disinherit the nephew by getting married himself. A clever, "Figaro-like" baritone (The Barber / Dr. Malatesta) concocts a "sham marriage." He introduces the nephew's lover in disguise, as a "pure," "silent," "convent-bred" girl (Timidia / Sofronia). The moment the fake marriage contract is signed, the "silent" woman transforms into a "hell-cat," a "shrew" of terrifying proportions. She screams, she spends all his money, she fills his quiet house with noise and "modern" furniture, all to drive the old man so insane that he begs his nephew to take his inheritance, just to get this "monster" out of his house. It is a "perfect" plot, and Strauss seized upon it with glee.

A Mozartian Heart with a Straussian Body

This is Strauss at his most "neo-classical." He called this opera his "return to bel canto," a deliberate rejection of the "symphonic" and "Wagnerian" path of his earlier works. He is, in a sense, trying to write a Rossini opera. The score is full of "numbers"—dazzling coloratura arias, rapid-fire parlante ensembles, and clear, "tuneful" melodies. The vocal writing for Aminta is a "throwback," a spectacular, high-F-laden part for a "coloratura" soprano, a voice-type Strauss had not used so centrally since Zerbinetta in Ariadne auf Naxos. The Barber's music is pure, witty, "Figaro-esque" patter. But... this is still Richard Strauss. He takes this light, delicate, Donizetti-style "clockwork" comedy and sets it for a colossal, 100-piece, post-Wagnerian orchestra. The "joke" of the opera is this very contradiction. He uses the massive, complex, "symphonic" orchestra of Salome and Elektra to imitate the "lightness" of Rossini. The orchestration is a marvel of "colossal chamber music," full of witty, "quotes" and self-parody. When the opera troupe "rehearses" in Act II, Strauss writes a brilliant, chaotic, "modernist" fugue of "noise," a masterpiece of dissonance that is both a send-up of "modern music" and a showcase of his own, unmatched, contrapuntal genius.

A Character of Silence, A Character of Song

The opera's "gimmick" is noise. The central character, Sir Morosus, is a "comic-tragic" figure. He is a retired admiral whose hearing was permanently damaged in a ship explosion (a brilliant "modern" excuse for his "misanthropy"). He cannot stand noise. His house is sound-proofed. He is a man who, like Wagner’s Wotan, "clings to what he hates," and his opening monologue is a dark, philosophical, "bass" complaint about the "noise of the world." His nemesis is his nephew, Henry, a tenor, who represents "music" and "song." The opera is, in fact, a "debate" about the very nature of music. The greatest, most beautiful, and most "sincere" music in this opera-within-an-opera is Aminta's. Strauss gives her two voices: the "fake" voice of "Timidia," which is high, "white," and "chaste" (a parody of a "convent girl"), and the "real" voice of Aminta, which is a glorious, soaring, Strauss-ian "love" theme. The opera's most profound moment comes in Act III, when the "trial" is in full swing, and Aminta sings a "test" piece to "prove" she is a singer. She sings a sublime, heartfelt "Hymn to Music" ("Wie schön ist doch die Musik"). This aria is the "Marschallin's monologue" of Die schweigsame Frau. It is a moment of pure, transcendent beauty that stops the farce cold, and it almost "breaks the heart" of Morosus, who, for a moment, loves the very "noise" he is supposed to hate.

A Coda of Sublime Peace

The opera's greatest, most "un-comic" moment is its ending. After the chaotic "divorce trial," the Barber finally reveals the entire "sham." The marriage was fake. The notary was fake. The "shrew" was his nephew's wife all along. Morosus, who has been driven to the brink of suicide, is... overjoyed. He laughs. He is not angry; he is relieved. He has learned his lesson. He understands the "joke," and he understands the "youth" who played it. He joyfully blesses Henry and Aminta, gives them his inheritance, and sends them, and their "noisy" opera troupe, on their way. The opera ends, not with a "bang," but with a "whisper." Morosus is left alone in his now-blissful, silent room. He pours a glass of wine and, in a final, profound, and deeply moving monologue, he reflects: "Wie schön ist doch die Musik... aber wie schöner, wenn sie vorbei ist!" ("How beautiful music is... but how much more beautiful, when it is over!"). This is one of the most personal, witty, and "autobiographical" statements Strauss ever wrote. It is the "anti-Wagnerian" composer who, after all the "noise" and "drama" and "passion" of a 3-hour, 100-piece-orchestra opera, finds his greatest, truest peace in the "silence" that comes after the music. It is a warm, wise, and heartbreakingly beautiful conclusion.

The Story of the Opera

Act I: Sir Morosus's House

In his "sound-proofed" London home, the retired Admiral, Sir Morosus, is in a state of agitation. His barber, Schneidebart, is late. Morosus is a misanthrope who cannot stand noise of any kind. The Barber arrives, full of energy and "noise," and tells Morosus he has the "perfect cure" for his loneliness: he should get married! Morosus is horrified, but the Barber insists he knows of a "silent," "gentle," "pure" young woman. Their argument is interrupted by the arrival of Morosus's long-lost nephew, Henry, whom Morosus joyfully welcomes as his heir. His joy is short-lived, however, when Henry reveals that he has not returned alone. He has brought his "wife," Aminta, and her entire... opera troupe. The troupe (Isotta, Carlotta, Morbio, and Vanuzzi) bursts in, making a spectacular "racket." Morosus, in a rage, disinherits Henry and demands the Barber find him the "silent" bride today, so he can write a new will. The Barber, realizing the "silent" bride he was "inventing" is now standing right in front of him (Aminta), agrees, and the plot is hatched.

Act II: The "Sham" Marriage

The Barber arrives at Morosus's house with "three brides." The first two (his opera colleagues, Carlotta and Isotta) are comically "broad" and "uncouth," and Morosus rejects them. Then, "Timidia" is presented. It is Aminta, heavily veiled, and pretending to be a pure, terrified, convent-bred girl who can only whisper. Morosus is instantly, completely enchanted. He agrees to marry her on the spot. The Barber brings in a "Notary" and "Priest" (his opera colleagues, Vanuzzi and Morbio). A "fake" marriage contract is signed. The moment the ink is dry, "Timidia" reveals her "true" self. She screams at Morosus. She tears up his beloved old possessions. She declares the house is a "tomb" and must be redecorated. She "hires" new, loud servants (the rest of the opera troupe). To cap it all, she announces that the house will be used for "music lessons." The act ends in a "symphony of chaos," as the opera troupe begins a loud, "modern" rehearsal, all while "Timidia" signs for new furniture and Henry (disguised) gives a "singing lesson." Morosus collapses, his "silent" world shattered.

Act III: The "Divorce" and the Finale

The next day. The house is in total chaos. "Timidia" (Aminta) is having new, modern furniture installed. Morosus is at the end of his rope. He demands a "divorce." The Barber, "helping" him, has arranged for a "Lord Chief Justice" and "lawyers" (Vanuzzi and Morbio, in new disguises) to come and hear the case. A "sham trial" begins. The "lawyers" argue in absurd, nonsensical Latin. To prove "Timidia's" infidelity, they bring in "witnesses." The "first witness" is "Lord Admiral" (Henry, in a new disguise), who claims he "had an affair" with "Timidia" before the wedding. The "second witness" is "Timidia" herself, who "confesses" to her "adultery" after the wedding. Morosus is so confused by the legal babble and the confessions that he nearly goes mad.

At the peak of the chaos, Henry and Aminta, feeling they have gone too far, reveal the entire "sham." The "brides," the "notary," the "lawyers"—it was all a "farce." They all beg his forgiveness. Morosus is stunned... and then, to everyone's surprise, he bursts into joyous laughter. He is not angry; he is relieved that his "hell" is over. He sees the genius of the "joke." He joyfully embraces his nephew and Aminta, blesses their "real" marriage, and names Henry his heir. He invites them all to the real wedding feast. The opera ends with Morosus, alone, blissfully "silent" at last. He pours a glass of wine and sings his final, wise monologue: "How beautiful music is... but how much more beautiful, when it is over!"