The lot of an opera composer in the first half of the nineteenth
century in Italy was not a particularly happy one. To earn a half
decent living he would have to compose at least three new works
each year for which he would earn significantly less than the
principal singers, particularly the divas of the day. He might
earn a little extra by presenting revivals with some new music.
He had no recourse to royalties from the operas he had composed,
as these became the property of the commissioning impresario.
Regularity of commissions from impresarios depended on his reputation,
which in turn depended on the success of previous compositions.
Consequently many composers of the period sought a wealthy patron
or an academic or teaching position or even a church post to keep
the wolf from the door.
Then there were
the problems surrounding the subject of the libretto and getting
a suitable poet to set the verses. Even when a subject had been
agreed with the librettist there was the dominant local influence
of the censor. Even Verdi, at the height of his fame as late
as 1858 had censor trouble in Naples with Un Ballo in Maschera
when the city Chief of Police ruled that the opera text would
have to be re-written in its entirety to preclude any dancing
on stage and the murder must be off-stage. Verdi by that time
had control of and royalties from his operas and was a rich
man. He simply removed himself and his opera from Naples to
the more sympathetic north Italy venue of Rome. Even in this
more liberal environment the assassination of a monarch on stage
was too much. Only after some prevarication did the Roman censors
agree to accept the principles of the plot and the action and
then only with the caveat that the location was removed from
Europe to North America at the time of the English domination,
with the King becoming a mere Count!
Donizetti had found
fame with his Anna Bolena in Milan 1830 and with L’Elisir
d’Amore (1832). At the time of the composition of Maria
Stuarda in 1834 he had embarked on the richest period of
his career. With the death of Bellini the previous year he was
in a pre-eminent position among Italian opera composers. Of
his previous forty-five or so operas at that date, nearly half
had been composed for Naples. He had returned there early in
1834 with a contract to write one serious opera each year for
the Royal Theatre, the San Carlo, as well as having an invitation
from Rossini to write for the Théâtre Italien in Paris. Things
began looking up for him even more when, in June, by command
of the King of Naples, he was appointed professor at the Royal
College of Music in Naples.
The renowned librettist
Romani failed to come up with a libretto for the contracted
opera, so Donizetti turned to a young student Giuseppe Bardari
who converted Schiller’s play. During rehearsals in September
the confrontations in the plot between the Queens Mary and Elisabeth
must have reached the Royal Palace where Queen Christina, wife
of King Ferdinand of Naples, and a descendant of Mary Stuart
objected. The King acted as censor and banned the new opera.
Donizetti was not in a strong position to resist when required
to set the music to another text. The safer subject chosen was
related to the strife between the Guelphs and Ghibellines in
pre-renaissance Florence. Donizetti composed some new music
and titled the work Buondelmonte. Not unexpectedly it
was not a resounding success. Donizetti withdrew it after its
Naples performances, determined to have Maria Stuarda
performed somewhere in the form he had originally planned. In
the interim he composed Gemma di Vergy for Milan, Marino
Faliero for Paris and Lucia di Lamermoor for Naples.
Maria Stuarda finally reached the stage at La Scala in December
1835 where after a mere six performances it was withdrawn on
the instructions of the Milanese censors. Maria Stuarda
did not reach Naples in its original form until 1865 when both
composer and Bourbon rulers were gone and after which it disappeared
until revived in 1958 in Bergamo, Donizetti’s hometown. In the
1970s the likes of Joan Sutherland, Montserrat Caballé, Leyla
Gencer and Beverley Sills took up the title role ensuring its
future in opera houses in Italy and elsewhere. Significant at
this time was a production by Giorgio de Home Lullo for the
Maggio Musicale in Florence in 1967 featuring Leyla Gencer and
Shirley Verrett. The set design and costumes for that production
were by Pier Luigi Pizzi, director, set designer and costume
designer at this La Scala in production in 2008.
Schiller, a historian
as well as a dramatist, undertook detailed research for his
plays. He was also well versed in the political and religious
conflicts of the age. Consequently Maria Stuarda is not
without foundation in historical fact albeit his confrontation
between the two Queens is pure invention for dramatic effect;
the two corresponded but never met. Badari and Donizetti stripped
away the political intrigue and pared down the number of characters
to six. Although Maria Stuarda lacks the flow of melodic
invention of Lucia di Lamermoor there is no want of melodic
beauty, making up for any loss by dramatic tension. Whilst the
manuscript of Maria Stuarda is lost several non-autograph
manuscripts exist as do ten pieces from Buondelmonte and
ten from Milan of Maria Stuarda. This performance of
Anders Wiklund’s Critical Edition, is given in two acts. The
original act two, the Fotheringay Scene and the meeting between
the Queens is given as scenes 6 (Chs 14-16), 7 (CHs. 17-19)
and scene 8 (CHs. 20-23) of act one.
The essential set
of Pizzi’s production highlights the prison theme, comprising
vertical bars among which are horizontal walkways. There is
also a central stepped dais. This prison motif is only broken
for the start of the Fotheringay scene when the bars are replaced
by an effective transformation into trees and parkland. The
bars reappear as Elisabeth enters. Costumes are in period with
Elisabeth excessively pasty-faced throughout. In the first scene
of act one she is regally dressed with long train and ornamental
headgear. In the Fotheringay scene she wears a long cream coat
and incongruous pearls over leathers and wields a whip for the
meeting with her rival. She looks like an upmarket dominatrix
as she strides the stage. Her lifting of Maria’s chin with the
whip as the latter kneels in supplication is one stage too far
for the Catholic Queen. She vents her fury at Elisabeth (CH.22)
with fateful phrases accusing Elisabeth of being the unchaste
daughter of Anne Boleyn and spitting out the ultimate insult
Profanato e il soglio inglese, vil bastards, dal tuo pie!
(The English throne is profaned, despicable bastard, by your
presence!). The vocal and acted contrast of Mariella Devia’s
singing at this point, with that earlier with her companion
Anna (CHs.14-16) is an excellent indication of her vocal prowess
and her domination of the score and the role. Mariella Devia
may never have had the recognition of Sutherland and Sills in
this repertoire, but in this performance she shows what a fine
actress and considerable belcantist she is, even in the autumn
of her career. The poignancy of her singing and acting in the
final scenes, dressed in red as historical record demands, is
as good as it gets. She sings a superbly expressive confession
(CH.31) and lament (CH.34) with carefully weighted tone and
legato line. Her facial and body acting supplement the words
as she asks that her blood redeem all and makes supplication
for the life of Elisabeth who has condemned her. As the cannon
shot is heard she then ascends to the block, where the executioner
wielding his axe has appeared, for the final well-staged dramatic
moments (CHs. 33-36).
The confrontation
scene with Maria also brings out the best in Anna Caterina Antonacci’s
Elisabeth. Not always as pure vocally as her rival queen, she
can certainly act and spit fire and generally up the emotional
temperature as she plays on Leicester’s emotions (CHs.11-13).
She also matches Mariella Devia for vocal expression in the
confrontation scene. As Leicester, loved by the queen and in
love with Maria, Francesco Meli is a considerable disappointment
vocally. I really do not know where his career is going. Having
moved from the high tessitura of the Rossini opera seria roles,
I read that he aspires to the traditional lyric tenor fach.
But in this performance his tone is dry and there is no magic
or elegance in his phrasing, albeit his appearance and acting
are better. Simone Alberghini is a sonorous Talbot in need of
more facial expression whilst Pietro Terranova is both vocally
and as an actor wholly appropriate as Cecil. Paola Gardina sings
appealingly as Anna.
The whole performance
is well held together by Antonino Fogliani in the pit. The chorus
make a vibrant contribution and Pizzi’s direction is well caught
by the video director. The sound cannot be faulted.
Robert J Farr
Elisabetta,
Elisabeth the first of England - Anna Caterina Antonacci (mezzo);
Maria Stuarda, Mary, Queen of Scots - Mariella Devia (soprano);
Roberto, Count of Leicester - Francesco Meli (tenor); Giorgio Talbot
- Simone Alberghini (bass-baritone); Lord Guglielmo Cecil - Pietro
Terranova (baritone); Anna, Maria’s companion – Paola Gardina (soprano)
[138:00 + 13:00] 
