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In 1834, Gaetano Donizetti received a commission from the prestigious Teatro di San Carlo in Naples to compose a new opera. By that time, Donizetti was already famous throughout Italy and across Europe, thanks above all to his triumph with Anna Bolena, which had premiered four years earlier at Teatro alla Scala.
He immediately set to work. The experienced librettist Felice Romani was unavailable, so Donizetti took the unusual step of helping to write the libretto himself, working closely with a remarkably young collaborator: a 17-year-old student, Giuseppe Bardari. Together, they created the text, drawing on an Italian translation by Andrea Maffei of Friedrich Schiller’s drama about Mary Stuart — a translation published in the very same year that Donizetti had risen to European fame with Anna Bolena. With this opera, Donizetti demonstrated that he was not only a great composer, but also a gifted dramatist and man of the theatre.
The opera was titled Maria Stuarda, and it told the powerful story of Mary, Queen of Scots, and her rival, Queen Elizabeth I of England.
Rehearsals began in Naples, but serious problems soon arose. Misunderstandings and, above all, fierce rivalries between the two leading sopranos created tension. The stars of the premiere were Giuseppina Ronzi de Begnis and Anna del Serre, who reportedly could hardly stand one another. Amid these conflicts, and troubled by the opera’s politically sensitive subject, the King of Naples intervened and prohibited the premiere.
However, rather than cancel the work entirely, a compromise was proposed. The opera would be performed — but in a radically altered form. Donizetti agreed. The title was changed to Buondelmonte. The historical setting was moved as far away as possible from contemporary sensitivities: instead of sixteenth-century England and Scotland, the story was relocated to thirteenth-century Florence. The entire drama of the two queens disappeared. It made little dramatic sense, but the priority was clear: the opera had to be staged.
To make this transformation possible, a new librettist was called in: Pietro Salatino, who had previously worked with Donizetti on Sancia di Castiglia. Together they fashioned a new libretto based on Florentine historical tales associated with Niccolò Machiavelli. Donizetti adapted his original music to this completely different storyline. The logic no longer mattered; what mattered was that the curtain would rise and the theatre would be full.
And so, on 18 October 1834, Buondelmonte premiered at the Teatro di San Carlo. Despite their personal animosity, Ronzi de Begnis and del Serre both sang that evening — neither was willing to renounce her role or her salary. The theatre was packed, the curtain rose… and the audience was bewildered. The convoluted plot bore little relation to the emotional intensity of the music the sopranos were singing. The result was a failure. The opera was withdrawn, and Donizetti refused to reuse his score again under the title Buondelmonte.
One year later, on 30 December 1835, Donizetti brought the original score to La Scala in Milan. There, at last, the opera was performed as it had originally been conceived: with the proper libretto, the confrontation between the two queens restored, and under its true title, Maria Stuarda. This time, it was a triumph, and Donizetti was deeply satisfied.
Maria Malibran
Yet trouble struck again. The censorship authorities objected to one particular word in the famous confrontation scene: “bastarda” (“bastard”). The leading soprano at La Scala was the legendary Maria Malibran. She was instructed that the opera could be performed — but the offensive word must not be sung.
Malibran, however, was every inch a diva. She ignored the censorship and sang the word anyway. The performances continued, and for five consecutive nights she defied the prohibition. Finally, at the sixth performance, despite being warned once more, she sang the line in full: “Figlia impura di Bolena, vil bastarda!” (“Impure daughter of Boleyn, vile bastard!”). This time, the authorities acted decisively. The opera was banned. It disappeared from La Scala’s stage.
Fotheringay Castle
Scene of the confrontation between the two queens in the vicinity of the castle
Because of the ban, Maria Stuarda fell into oblivion. Unlike Anna Bolena, it was not taken up by other theatres in Italy or abroad. Donizetti could do nothing to rescue it. The opera became almost cursed, and it vanished from the repertoire. Donizetti died without seeing it secure the lasting success it deserved.
There was a brief revival in Naples in 1865, where the opera achieved great success — tragically, long after Donizetti’s death. Yet even then, it did not enter the regular repertoire and again faded from view.
Only in the mid-twentieth century did Maria Stuarda truly return to life. Great artists such as Montserrat Caballé, Shirley Verrett, Leyla Gencer, Joan Sutherland, Beverly Sills, and Edita Gruberová restored the opera to glory, creating unforgettable evenings — including celebrated performances at La Scala. Thanks to them, and to studio and live recordings, we can fully appreciate this magnificent score and the extraordinary vocal artistry it demands.
I myself have had the great fortune to see this opera live several times with the divine Edita Gruberová. Hearing her embody the Queen of Scots was an unforgettable experience.
Today, Maria Stuarda stands recognized as one of Donizetti’s most powerful and inspired works — an opera that survived censorship, rivalry, and oblivion to reclaim its rightful place in the operatic repertoire.
Maria Stuarda in New York 2026
Few chapters in operatic history unite political drama, vocal virtuosity, scandal, and pure theatrical electricity like the so-called Tudor Trilogy of Gaetano Donizetti. With Anna Bolena (1830), Maria Stuarda (1834–35), and Roberto Devereux (1837), Donizetti achieved something no other composer has matched: three major operas centered on three historically intertwined queens — Anne Boleyn, Mary, Queen of Scots, and Elizabeth I — each portrayed with psychological depth, musical individuality, and extraordinary vocal demands.
And now, the spotlight turns once more to Maria Stuarda at the Metropolitan Opera, where a remarkable cast is poised to reign.
The Historical and Operatic Arc
Donizetti’s trilogy unfolds almost like dynastic destiny:
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First, Anna Bolena — the fall of Henry VIII’s second wife, mother of Elizabeth.
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Then, Maria Stuarda — the confrontation between Mary Stuart and Elizabeth, daughter of Anne Boleyn.
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Finally, Roberto Devereux — Elizabeth in her later years, aging, powerful, yet emotionally vulnerable.
Though not conceived as a formal trilogy, the three works create a dramatic lineage that mirrors Tudor history itself.
What makes this even more fascinating is how Donizetti tailors the music to each queen’s psychology:
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Anna is introspective, fragile, almost haunted.
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Maria is proud, passionate, spiritually luminous.
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Elisabetta is imperious, volatile, wounded beneath the crown.
No other composer gave us such a triptych of royal womanhood.
The Scandalous Birth of Maria Stuarda
Before arriving in New York in triumph, Maria Stuarda was born in controversy.
Originally planned for Naples, the opera was banned by the Bourbon king — partly because his wife, Queen Maria Cristina, was a descendant of Mary Stuart, and partly because the libretto’s confrontation scene was deemed scandalous. During rehearsals, the mezzo-soprano Anna Del Serre, singing Maria, reportedly hurled the famous insult “Figlia impura di Bolena!” with such blazing intensity that the soprano Giuseppina Ronzi de Begnis, cast as Elizabeth, took it personally. According to contemporary accounts, she physically attacked Del Serre during rehearsal. Naples was electrified by the scandal. The king intervened. The opera was suppressed.
Giuseppina Ronzi de Begnis
Teatro alla Scala
It eventually premiered at Teatro alla Scala in 1835, after being postponed because the legendary Maria Malibran was indisposed. Once it opened, it was a success — but like many Donizetti works, it later fell into neglect.
The 20th century restored it to glory, thanks to towering artists such as Leyla Gencer, Beverly Sills, Montserrat Caballé, Joan Sutherland, Shirley Verrett, and later Edita Gruberová.
Each brought a different shade of regality, fury, and transcendence to the final prayer — one of bel canto’s most sublime farewell scenes.
The Metropolitan Opera Revival: A New Chapter
The upcoming revival at the Metropolitan Opera carries special weight.
At its center is Lisette Oropesa as Maria Stuarda. Fresh from her triumph in I Puritani, she now ascends another summit of the bel canto repertoire. Oropesa’s artistry — her luminous legato, technical finesse, emotional sincerity, and stylistic intelligence — make her ideally suited to Maria’s arc: from imprisoned queen to spiritual martyr.
Opposite her stands Angela Meade as Elisabetta.
And this is where things become especially thrilling.
Traditionally, the opera is often cast with a soprano as Maria and a mezzo-soprano as Elisabetta. But when both roles are sung by true sopranos of dramatic weight and agility, the confrontation takes on a different brilliance — sharper, more vocally electrifying, almost gladiatorial in timbre. The vocal lines clash in similar ranges, increasing the dramatic tension. It becomes a duel of equals.
Meade, with her expansive voice, fearless top notes, and commanding stage presence, brings volcanic authority to Elisabetta. She excels in roles that demand both grandeur and vulnerability. Her final scene, in which Elizabeth condemns Maria yet feels the weight of her own isolation, promises to be devastating.
The emotional stakes will be immense.
Leicester, sung by René Barbera, completes the triangle of love and political rivalry, while the elegant and stylistically assured Enrique Mazzola conducts. The production is by David McVicar, whose staging is known for its psychological intensity and visual austerity — ideal for this charged historical drama.
Why This Revival Matters
New York has a distinguished bel canto history, but every generation needs its defining Tudor queens.
In the 1970s, Beverly Sills made Maria Stuarda a vehicle of American bel canto revival. Later, Gruberová and others reaffirmed its central place in the repertoire. Now, Oropesa and Meade represent a new chapter — artists deeply grounded in style yet capable of reaching new emotional heights.
The great confrontation scene — that volcanic exchange culminating in “Figlia impura di Bolena!” — will surely electrify the Met audience. And Maria’s final prayer, “Deh! Tu di un’umile preghiera,” remains one of Donizetti’s most transcendent inspirations: serene, luminous, almost otherworldly.
When performed at the highest level, the opera moves from political drama to spiritual meditation.
The Living Legacy of the Tudor Trilogy
What is so moving about these upcoming performances is the sense of continuity.
The lineage is unbroken.
And New York now becomes the latest royal court in this nearly two-century history.
For those who love bel canto — and clearly, you do with passion and knowledge, as you're here reading this blog — these performances are not just another revival. They are part of an ongoing tradition that honors Donizetti’s genius and keeps these extraordinary queens alive on the stage.
It is thrilling to imagine the curtain rising at the Metropolitan Opera, the orchestra beginning the tense, noble introduction, and two great sopranos preparing to clash in one of opera’s most famous confrontations.
The Tudor crown is polished once again.
And New York is ready to receive it.
The Three Queens of Donizetti: A Bel Canto Crown
Few historical figures have inspired as much fascination as Mary, Queen of Scots, Anne Boleyn, and Elizabeth I. Their dramatic lives — filled with love, betrayal, power struggles, and tragedy — have inspired countless novels, films, plays, and operas. Among composers, no one captured their emotional intensity and political drama as magnificently as Gaetano Donizetti in his celebrated Tudor trilogy.
Composed between 1830 and 1837, these three operas — Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda, and Roberto Devereux — form one of the most remarkable achievements in the bel canto repertoire. Although not originally conceived as a trilogy, they are now universally regarded as a unified dramatic cycle centered on the Tudor court and its most compelling women.
Anna Bolena (1830)
Premiered at Teatro Carcano in 1830, Anna Bolena marked Donizetti’s international breakthrough. The opera focuses on the tragic downfall of Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry VIII and mother of Elizabeth I.
The most legendary 20th-century revival took place at Teatro alla Scala in 1957, starring Maria Callas in the title role and Giulietta Simionato as Jane Seymour. Interestingly, this was Callas’s debut in the role. Though she reprised it the following season, she did not make it a staple of her repertoire — yet her interpretation remains historic.
Simionato, by contrast, had already sung Jane Seymour a decade earlier — even in Barcelona at the Gran Teatre del Liceu in 1947 — long before Callas had achieved major fame in Italy. At that time, Callas had appeared at the Arena di Verona, singing La Gioconda, but her legendary status was still in the making.
More recently, Anna Netrebko brought renewed glamour and vocal richness to Anna, often alongside the magnificent Jane Seymour of Elīna Garanča, in Vienna.
Maria Stuarda (1834)
If Anna Bolena gave voice to the fallen mother, Maria Stuarda dramatizes the electrifying confrontation between Mary Stuart and Elizabeth I. The opera is based on Friedrich Schiller’s play and contains one of the most explosive scenes in operatic history.
Originally intended for Naples, the opera faced censorship. The Bourbon king reportedly forbade its performance — partly because of its politically sensitive content and partly because his own wife, Queen Maria Cristina, was a descendant of Mary Stuart. Even more sensational was the infamous rehearsal scandal: during the confrontation scene in which Mary hurls the devastating insult “Figlia impura di Bolena!” (“Impure daughter of Boleyn!”), the mezzo-soprano Anna Del Serre allegedly sang with such passion that the soprano Giuseppina Ronzi de Begnis took offense personally. According to accounts, Ronzi de Begnis physically attacked her colleague during rehearsal — a scandal that spread throughout Naples and contributed to the opera’s cancellation there.
Ultimately, Maria Stuarda premiered at Teatro alla Scala in 1835 (after being postponed due to Maria Malibran’s illness), and it was a success.
The opera later traveled widely — to Modena, Ferrara, Malta, Venice, Madrid, Porto, Granada, Málaga, Barcelona, Lisbon — and finally Naples in 1865, long after Donizetti’s death.
Today, anticipation surrounds performances at the Metropolitan Opera, where Lisette Oropesa sings the doomed Scottish queen and Angela Meade portrays Elisabetta, with René Barbera as Leicester under the baton of Enrique Mazzola in David McVicar’s production.
The prospect of two true sopranos in the rival roles is thrilling — as it creates a special dramatic electricity, much like hearing Norma with two soprano voices.
Roberto Devereux (1837)
The final opera of the trilogy, Roberto Devereux, premiered in 1837 at the Teatro San Carlo. Here, Donizetti turns his focus fully to Elizabeth I in her later years, torn between political authority and personal vulnerability in her relationship with the Earl of Essex.
The role of Elisabetta is one of the most demanding in the soprano repertoire — vocally and dramatically. It requires majesty, fury, fragility, and heartbreaking resignation. Many great interpreters of Anna and Maria have also crowned their Tudor journey with this opera, completing the emotional arc from mother to rival to monarch.
A Unique Achievement in Operatic History
No other composer created such a cohesive and psychologically layered portrait of these three intertwined queens. Donizetti gave each woman her own musical language:
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Anna — lyrical, introspective, tragic
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Maria — fiery, dignified, spiritually transcendent
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Elisabetta — imperious, wounded, human
The trilogy is not merely historical drama. It is a study of power and femininity, rivalry and legacy — and above all, a celebration of the expressive possibilities of the bel canto soprano voice.
The excitement, anticipation and enthusiasm already created so many months in advance about the upcoming performances in New York is completely understandable. When artists like Oropesa and Meade take on these roles, they stand in a lineage stretching back nearly two centuries — to Malibran, Ronzi de Begnis, and beyond.
What makes these operas so enduring is that, despite their historical settings, they speak directly to modern audiences. The emotions are immediate. The vocal writing is dazzling. And the characters feel astonishingly alive.
It’s truly a golden crown in the operatic repertoire — and sharing this enthusiasm makes it even more beautiful.
Les Trois Reines de Donizetti : Un Couronnement du Bel Canto
Peu de figures historiques ont suscité autant de fascination que Marie Stuart, Anne Boleyn et Élisabeth Ire. Leurs vies tumultueuses – marquées par l’amour, la trahison, les luttes de pouvoir et la tragédie – ont inspiré d’innombrables romans, films, pièces de théâtre et opéras. Parmi les compositeurs, nul n’a su capturer avec autant de brio l’intensité de leurs émotions et le drame politique de leur règne que Gaetano Donizetti dans sa célèbre trilogie des Tudor.
Composés entre 1830 et 1837, ces trois opéras – Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda et Roberto Devereux – constituent l’une des œuvres les plus remarquables du répertoire bel canto. Bien qu’initialement conçus comme une trilogie, ils sont aujourd’hui universellement reconnus comme un cycle dramatique unifié, centré sur la cour des Tudor et ses femmes les plus fascinantes.
Anna Bolena (1830)
Créée au Teatro Carcano en 1830, Anna Bolena a marqué la consécration internationale de Donizetti. L'opéra relate la chute tragique d'Anne Boleyn, seconde épouse d'Henri VIII et mère d'Élisabeth Ire.
La reprise la plus légendaire du XXe siècle eut lieu au Teatro alla Scala en 1957, avec Maria Callas dans le rôle-titre et Giulietta Simionato dans celui de Jane Seymour. Fait intéressant, il s'agissait des débuts de Callas dans ce rôle. Bien qu'elle l'ait repris la saison suivante, il ne devint pas un élément incontournable de son répertoire – son interprétation reste néanmoins historique.
Simionato, quant à elle, avait déjà chanté Jane Seymour une décennie plus tôt – notamment à Barcelone au Gran Teatre del Liceu en 1947 – bien avant que Callas n'acquière une plus grande renommée en Italie. À cette époque, Callas s'était produite aux Arènes de Vérone dans La Gioconda, mais sa légende était encore en construction.
Après Callas, le rôle d'Anne Boleyn devint un tremplin pour certaines des plus grandes sopranos de l'histoire :
Montserrat Caballé, Joan Sutherland, Beverly Sills, Leyla Gencer, Katia Ricciarelli et Edita Gruberová, qui s'est particulièrement attachée à ce rôle au XXIe siècle.
Plus récemment, Anna Netrebko a insufflé un nouveau souffle et une richesse vocale exceptionnelle à Anna, souvent aux côtés de la magnifique Jane Seymour d'Elīna Garanča, à Vienne.
Si Anne Boleyn a donné voix à la mère déchue, Maria Stuarda met en scène la confrontation explosive entre Marie Stuart et Élisabeth Ire. Cet opéra, inspiré de la pièce de Friedrich Schiller, contient l'une des scènes les plus explosives de l'histoire de l'opéra.
Initialement conçu pour Naples, l'opéra fut confronté à la censure. Le roi Bourbon aurait refusé d'assister à la représentation, en partie à cause de son contenu politiquement sensible et en partie parce que son épouse, la reine Marie-Christine, était une descendante de Marie Stuart. Plus retentissant encore fut le scandale des répétitions : lors de la scène de confrontation où Marie lance l'insulte cinglante « Figlia impura di Bolena ! » (« Fille impure de Boleyn ! »), la mezzo-soprano Anna Del Serre aurait chanté avec une telle passion que la soprano Giuseppina Ronzi de Begnis se serait sentie personnellement offensée. Selon certains témoignages, Ronzi de Begnis aurait agressé physiquement sa collègue pendant la répétition – un scandale qui fit grand bruit à Naples et contribua à l'annulation de l'opéra dans cette ville.
Finalement, Maria Stuarda fut créée au Teatro alla Scala en 1835 (après avoir été reportée en raison de la maladie de Maria Malibran) et connut un grand succès.
L'opéra voyagea ensuite beaucoup – à Modène, Ferrare, Malte, Venise, Madrid, Porto, Grenade, Malaga, Barcelone, Lisbonne – et enfin à Naples en 1865, longtemps après la mort de Donizetti.
Après une période d'oubli, Maria Stuarda a connu un triomphe au XXe siècle grâce à des artistes telles que :
Leyla Gencer, Beverly Sills,Montserrat Caballé,
Shirley Verrett,Joan Sutherland,Edita Gruberová.
Aujourd'hui, les représentations au Metropolitan Opera sont très attendues. Lisette Oropesa y interprète la reine écossaise au destin tragique, Angela Meade incarne Elisabetta et René Barbera, Leicester, sous la direction d'Enrique Mazzola dans la mise en scène de David McVicar.
La perspective de voir deux véritables sopranos dans ces rôles rivaux est exaltante. Comme vous l'avez si justement imaginé , cela crée une tension dramatique particulière, comparable à celle qu'on ressent en entendant Norma interprétée par deux sopranos.
Robert Devereux (1837)
Le dernier opéra de la trilogie, Roberto Devereux, a été créé en 1837 au Teatro San Carlo. Ici, Donizetti concentre toute son attention sur Élisabeth Ire dans ses dernières années, tiraillée entre son autorité politique et sa vulnérabilité personnelle dans sa relation avec le comte d'Essex.
Le rôle d'Élisabette est l'un des plus exigeants du répertoire pour soprano, tant vocalement que dramatiquement. Il requiert majesté, fureur, fragilité et une résignation déchirante. Nombre de grandes interprètes d'Anne et de Marie ont également couronné leur carrière d'interprètes des Tudor par cet opéra, achevant ainsi le parcours émotionnel de mère à rivale, puis à monarque.
Un chef-d'œuvre unique dans l'histoire de l'opéra Aucun autre compositeur n'a créé un portrait aussi cohérent et psychologiquement riche de ces trois reines aux destins si intimement liés. Donizetti a doté chaque femme d'un langage musical unique :
Anna — lyrique, introspective, tragique
Maria — fougueuse, digne, spirituellement transcendante
Elisabetta — impérieuse, blessée, profondément humaine
La trilogie n'est pas qu'un simple drame historique. C'est une exploration du pouvoir et de la féminité, de la rivalité et de l'héritage — et surtout, une célébration des possibilités expressives de la voix de soprano bel canto.
L'enthousiasme pour les prochaines représentations est tout à fait compréhensible. Lorsque des artistes comme Oropesa et Meade s'emparent de ces rôles, elles s'inscrivent dans une lignée qui remonte à près de deux siècles — à Malibran, Ronzi de Begnis et au-delà.
Ce qui rend ces opéras si intemporels, c'est que, malgré leur contexte historique, ils parlent directement au public contemporain. Les émotions sont immédiates. L'écriture vocale est éblouissante. Et les personnages semblent d'une vie saisissante. C'est véritablement un joyau du répertoire lyrique — et partager cet enthousiasme le rend encore plus précieux.
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