If you needed evidence to support the (now outre) maxim that behind every successful man is a woman, the case of Jetty Treffz and her husband, Johann Strauss the Younger, works very well. If it weren't for her, he might never have gotten serious about composing operettas.
And for a delectable example of how a philandering husband can have a clever wife right behind him, plotting and executing the perfect revenge, you can't do much better than Strauss' greatest operetta -- the greatest Viennese operetta, period -- Die Fledermaus.
To celebrate the start of its 30th season, Annapolis Opera will present this bubbly concoction next weekend; in the spirit of holiday cheer, the Baltimore Opera Company will offer its new Fledermaus next month.
It's the perfect party piece, especially since it's all about a party -- and a paean to the virtues of champagne. Its fermentation process, though, was not without its difficulties.
Although he had an obvious gift for spinning out memorable tunes, Strauss did not have a corresponding gift for setting words to music. He wasn't even inclined to try.
But when he married Jetty in the 1860s, he gained an invaluable artistic ally. A successful singer, she had a keen appreciation for music in the theater. She also noticed how Frenchman Jacques Offenbach was making a fortune with his operettas in Vienna. She figured Johann should get a piece of that action. Even Offenbach reportedly told Strauss he should enter the genre.
But when Strauss proved terribly recalcitrant about taking the plunge, Jetty outwitted him. The story goes that, having secretly arranged for some of his pieces to be matched up with words, she surprised him with a troupe of singers who warbled his tunes to the newly fashioned texts. He finally agreed that there might be something to this operetta business after all.
Unfortunately, his first attempt -- it was called The Merry Wives of Vienna -- never got off the ground because the intended star decided she didn't want to sing it. Strauss bounced back in 1871 with Indigo and the Forty Thieves, which enjoyed success at the box office, despite a weak libretto, as did the next operetta, Carnival in Rome, two years later. But neither of these works established Strauss as a major operetta composer. That came in 1874 with Die Fledermaus.
Always popular
Although he wrote about a dozen more works for the stage, only one came close to the overall quality of Fledermaus -- The Gypsy Baron (1885), which, unfairly, has never been greatly appreciated outside the German-speaking world. Fledermaus, by contrast, has never lost its popularity.
Significantly, it moved quickly from theaters specializing in light music to grand opera houses, where it remains welcome. It's easy to hear why.
For starters, Die Fledermaus (The Bat) had the first decent libretto Strauss worked with; it's based on a play written by the same team that produced the libretto for Bizet's Carmen and several of Offenbach's hits. Some of its risque features were toned down, but the essential flavor of a slightly naughty, high society romp remained.
With a ball scene at the heart of the plot, dance music -- waltzes, polkas, all the things Strauss was famed for -- could spring naturally from the situations onstage. And dance music fit perfectly with a story set in aristocratic circles, with all their glitter, flippancy and games of love. Strauss was no stranger to that world.
When he first met Jetty, she was living quite openly as mistress of a Viennese baron whose home was a magnet for upper-crust party animals. When she told him she had fallen in love with Strauss and wanted out of their relationship, the baron just shrugged and gave her a large cash settlement. He seems to have taken the same attitude toward life as the perpetually bored Prince Orlofksy in Fledermaus, who sums up his philosophy with the French expression, "Chacun a son gout" -- each to his own taste.
There's another philosophy at the heart of this operetta, expressed by the would-be lovers who get the plot rolling: "Happy are they who forget about what they cannot change."
This get-over-it approach comes in handy by the end, when the tables are turned on that pair. There's enough indiscretion and blame to go around at that point -- a husband, having unmasked his wife's lack of virtue, isn't exactly in a strong position when she then uncovers his. Everyone blames the whole mess on the effects of champagne, and down comes the curtain.
An enticing bunch
You don't have to give a hoot about philosophy, of course, to savor the charms of Fleder-maus. The story line still has enough comic juice in it to engage contemporary audiences.
The characters are an enticing bunch -- the wealthy Eisen-stein, about to be jailed for slander; Rosalinde, his wife, who has trouble resisting the advances of an ardent former lover, an opera singer named Alfred; Adele, Rosalinde's maid, who is determined to rise above her station; Dr. Falke, who is determined to pull a comeuppance prank on Eisenstein, who once left the drunken doctor outside to wake up from a costume party and make his way home in broad daylight dressed as a bat.
For a bit of low comedy, there's the last-act speaking part of Frosch, the inebriated jailer. (This hammy role will be performed in the Annapolis Opera production by a former Annapo-lis mayor, while the current mayor and other local celebs will join company founder Martha Wright in making cameo appearances as guests at the Act 2 ball.)
The real source of the operetta's strength, of course, is its music. Strauss outdid himself with ear-catching melodies and infectious rhythms. He also got the tone just right. When Eisen-stein and Rosalinde pretend to express their intense suffering at the thought of being separated when he goes to jail, the music is deliciously fake-serious, then breaks into a marvelous romping tune as each character internally admits how much fun is really in store.
Later, during the ball, when everyone is feeling no pain and the intricacies of Falke's scheme have begun to fall into place, he suddenly stops all the revelry. "I see all the pairs that have been formed tonight," he sings, "all the hearts now in love. Let's form a great union of brothers and sisters for all eternity." He even suggests that everyone address each other by the familiar German form of "you" -- du. (The deep implication of that shift, a big deal in German and some other languages, is lost when the operetta is presented, as it will be in Annapolis and Baltimore, in English, where one "you" fits all.)
On the face of it, Falke's words sound a little absurd, but Strauss sets this burst of sentimentality to one of his most ingratiating, downright touching waltzes. Not until the other operatic Strauss, Richard (no relation), and his Der Rosenkava-lier, would the world get a waltz so tinged with exquisite tenderness.
For a moment, the revelers stop to consider a harmonious world that might -- that should -- exist.
The fun and games start up again quickly after that, as they should. This is, after all, a decidedly comic piece. But, thanks to Strauss, it's also a thing of substance and beauty.
Hear the music
What: Annapolis Opera's Die Fledermaus
Where: Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts, 801 Chase St., Annapolis
When: 8 p.m. Friday, 3 p.m. Nov. 10
Tickets: $48
Call: 410-267-8135, www.annapolisopera.org
*
What: Baltimore Opera's Die Fledermaus
Where: The Lyric, 110 W. Mount Royal Ave.
When: 8:15 p.m., Dec. 7 and 13; 3 p.m. Dec 8 and 15; 7:30 p.m. Dec. 11
Tickets: $37 to $132
Call: 410-727-6000, www.baltimoreopera.com