Micaele Sparacino General Director

Program notes: Donizetti’s
Mary Stuart

I’ve often heard the American historian Henry Adams’ famous remark, "Politics is the systematic organization of hatreds," quoted by journalists in the press galleries of Capitol Hill. Adams' comment also applies to the history recounted in Gaetano Donizetti's Mary Stuart, which explores the intersection between personal loathing and political ascendancy.

Giuseppe Bardare, who based the original Italian libretto on the popular German stage play of the same name by the great author Friedrich Schiller (Faust, Werther, Beethoven’s Ode to Joy). Donizetti, always quick to adapt to popular theatrical trends, happily rode the wave of 19th century fascination — some say obsession — with the romanticized histories of the great Tudor families.

Mary Stuart is Donizetti’s musically and dramatically inventive take on the circumstances leading to the execution of Mary Queen of Scots. He focused on the political intrigues of a royal tragedy — intrigues dictated as much by Elizabeth I's sexual jealousy of Mary as by her desire for political control. They were rivals for both the English throne and the love of the Earl of Leicester.

There is no evidence that the two queens ever met. Pity! Apparently Schiller, Bardare and Donizetti were all of the same opinion: It would have made such great theater. And so it does.

Donizetti wrote the opera while Europe was still rattling with aftershocks of the French Revolution. Italy was a divided country, repeatedly invaded by foreign armies. Questions concerning the nature of power were urgently timely. Donizetti was drawn to the Tudors, the dynasty in which personal desires most routinely became political facts.

Henry VIII's decision to embrace Protestantism so that he could divorce Catherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn is the supreme example of political expediency dictated by erotic desire. His daughter, Elizabeth I, could restore the monarchy’s reputation only by distancing herself from his behavior and becoming the dutiful ruler known as the Virgin Queen.

In reality, however, Elizabeth’s own talent for sexual manipulation undercut this image. Set against Elizabeth was Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, who gradually came to represent Elizabeth's alter ego. Elizabeth abandoned sex for the sake of power; Mary, thrice married, deposed and eventually executed, was seen as sacrificing power for the sake of passion. In an age that saw the rise of cults of sensibility, Mary became the ultimate tragic heroine.

These were the basic ideas that inspired Donizetti in fashioning this opera. His works have often been attacked for a lack of historical veracity, though doing so misses the point. He regarded the Tudors as legendary figures, like the gods in Greek myths, whose stories were told with many variations. Donizetti's three operas on the Tudors — Anne Boleyn, Mary Stuart and Robert Devereux — were not written as a trilogy (though they have been performed as such), and there are inconsistencies between them. Nonetheless, a pattern emerges that envisions both Henry and Elizabeth as willful, sadistic despots, while Anne Boleyn, Mary Stuart and Robert Devereux are flawed figures who play into their hands.

Donizetti made his international fame as an opera composer with the 1830 premiere of Anne Boleyn. Five years later, however, Mary Stuart caused a furor at the premiere. It ran into censorship in Naples, where the local royals took offense, and then in Milan, where authorities deemed the libretto's language too strong. When legendary La Scala diva Maria Malibran, creator of the title role, hurled from the stage the infamous line “Vil bastarda,” the opening-night audience in Milan went into an uproar. Italian censors immediately banned further performances.

Telescoping some 15 years of history into three days, the opera deals with the fictional showdown between the rival queens and Mary Stuart's imprisonment and execution. Their confrontation is one of opera's greatest yelling matches. In the great scene of Act II, Mary, overpiously and with great indignity, asserts her moral superiority. In front of the entire royal Windsor entourage, Mary denounces Elizabeth as the “vile bastard” of Henry VIII and a “stain on the honor of England.” Elizabeth, who already detests her Catholic cousin, is outraged and responds sadistically: Mary is immediately arrested and soon sentenced to execution.

The queen of Scots accepts word of her condemnation with great nobility. She confesses her sins and prays that her martyrdom will bring peace to England. This is one of the most inspired moments in all of Donizetti’s many operas. The poignant hymn-like anthem that Mary and her court sing, while keeling in prayer, fuses drama with soaring melody in a most memorable and touching way. Mary, accompanied by her nurse, blindfolded and holding a crucifix, goes calmly to the beheading block. Elizabeth, whose power is now absolute, forces Leicester to oversee the execution.

This is real Italian melodrama in the truest sense of the word.

Fortunately, this lavishly lyric and tuneful opera gradually established itself in the 20th century as a showcase for rival divas. Beverly Sills recorded the opera with great success opposite the immortal Eileen Farrell as Elizabeth. Dame Janet Baker in her farewell performances as Mary Stuart chose the famous dramatic soprano, Rosalind Plowright to portray Elizabeth. The version you are hearing today is based upon those performances by the English National Opera.

As far as the Catholic composer Donizetti was concerned, Elizabeth was illegitimate and the Stuart had true claim upon the thrones of England and Scotland. Thus Mary is given music of great nobility as she acknowledges the spiritual and moral disasters of her life, while Elizabeth, with her angular vocal lines, is marked as a deluded captive of her own emotions.

Donizetti’s vision of the dysfunctional Tudors, living out their tawdry private lives in the public eye, will readily suggest to modern audiences the indignities of the current house of Windsor. One can only speculate what the Maestro from Bergamo might have made of Charles, Diana and Camilla if he were composing today.

— Micaele Sparacino

Synopsis