New York - Maria Stuarda - Donizetti - Lisette Oropesa - Dec 6 / 22 2026

 

Maria Malibran 

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.

Gaetano Donizetti

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.

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The Historical and Operatic Arc

Donizetti’s trilogy unfolds almost like dynastic destiny:

• First, Anna Bolena — the fall of Henry VIII’s second wife, mother of Elizabeth.

• Then, Maria Stuarda — the confrontation between Mary Stuart and Elizabeth, daughter of Anne Boleyn.

• 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:

• Anna is introspective, fragile, almost haunted.

• Maria is proud, passionate, spiritually luminous.

• Elisabetta is imperious, volatile, wounded beneath the crown.

No other composer gave us such a triptych of royal womanhood.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The Living Legacy of the Tudor Trilogy

What is so moving about these upcoming performances is the sense of continuity.

From Malibran’s postponed premiere…

to the scandal in Naples…

to Callas at La Scala…

to Caballé, Sutherland, Verrett, and Gruberová…

to today’s great interpreters…

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.

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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.

After Callas, the role became a showcase for some of the greatest sopranos in history:

Montserrat Caballé,

Leyla Gencer,

Katia Ricciarelli,

and in more recent decades, Edita Gruberová, who became particularly associated with the role in the 21st century.

More recently, Anna Netrebko brought renewed glamour and vocal richness to Anna, often alongside the magnificent Jane Seymour of Elīna Garanča, in Vienna. 

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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.

After a period of neglect, Maria Stuarda was triumphantly revived in the 20th century by artists such as:

Leyla Gencer,

Beverly Sills,

Montserrat Caballé,

Shirley Verrett,

Joan Sutherland,

Edita Gruberová,

and Agnes Baltsa as Elizabeth .

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.

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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.

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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:

• Anna — lyrical, introspective, tragic

• Maria — fiery, dignified, spiritually transcendent

• 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.

Maria Stuarda (1834)

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.

Mary , Queen of Scots

Saint Petersburg - Les Huguenots - 1 March 2026

There are evenings in the life of the theatre when time itself seems to fold, when past and present stand side by side beneath the glow of the chandelier, and history breathes again through living voices. Tonight, in the radiant modern hall of the Mariinsky Theatre, such a moment arrives. In St Petersburg—a city whose destiny has always been intertwined with grandeur, tragedy, and artistic immortality—the curtain rises once more on one of the supreme monuments of nineteenth-century lyric art: the vast and visionary masterpiece of Giacomo Meyerbeer.

When Les Huguenots first appeared before the world in Paris in 1836, at the august halls of the Paris Opéra, it was not merely a premiere—it was a revelation. Meyerbeer did not compose an opera; he constructed a universe. He fused history and human passion, private love and public catastrophe, into a monumental fresco of sound. The Wars of Religion, with their terrible climax in the St Bartholomew’s Day massacre, became in his hands not only a political tragedy, but an eternal meditation on faith, intolerance, courage, and sacrifice. The music breathes with astonishing vitality: intimate confessions blossom into vast choral cathedrals; delicate lyricism gives way to terrifying orchestral thunder; love itself stands fragile and luminous against the advancing shadow of violence.

Giacomo Meyerbeer

To witness this opera in St Petersburg is especially meaningful. This city, built on water and vision, has long been a sanctuary for great art and great risk. Here, audiences have always understood the scale of Meyerbeer’s ambition. His music speaks naturally in this imperial setting, where architecture itself seems composed in symphonic proportions.

Presiding over this evening is the legendary maestro Valery Gergiev, one of the defining conductors of our era. His presence at the podium is more than a guarantee of musical excellence—it is a continuation of a living tradition. Gergiev possesses that rare ability to illuminate not only the notes, but the emotional architecture behind them. Under his direction, Meyerbeer’s immense score does not merely unfold; it lives, breathes, and burns.

Around him gathers a constellation—a galaxy of Russian voices, heirs to one of the richest vocal traditions on earth. Their artistry reminds us that opera is not an artifact, but a living flame passed from generation to generation.

And yet, as we contemplate tonight’s performance, memory inevitably turns to one immortal figure who shaped the modern legacy of this work: Joan Sutherland. Her interpretation of Marguerite de Valois remains etched in the collective consciousness of opera lovers. With her incomparable technique, her radiant tone, and her sovereign command of bel canto style, she did not merely perform the role—she defined it. Her voice, at once celestial and human, revealed the full majesty and vulnerability of Meyerbeer’s heroine. In her singing, the past seemed to speak directly to the present.

Tonight, that lineage continues.

The theatre darkens. The murmur fades. The conductor raises his hand.

In that suspended instant, we stand not only in the present, but in continuity with every performance that has come before—with Paris in 1836, with imperial St Petersburg in the nineteenth century, with every singer and listener who has ever been moved by this extraordinary creation.

Soon, the first notes will emerge from silence.

And once again, Meyerbeer’s vast and trembling world will come alive.

Il y a des soirs, dans la vie théâtrale, où le temps semble se suspendre, où passé et présent se côtoient sous la lueur du lustre, et où l'histoire reprend vie à travers les voix des acteurs. Ce soir, dans la lumineuse salle moderne du Théâtre Mariinsky, un tel moment se produit. À Saint-Pétersbourg – ville dont le destin a toujours été intimement lié à la grandeur, à la tragédie et à l'immortalité artistique – le rideau se lève à nouveau sur l'un des monuments suprêmes de l'art lyrique du XIXe siècle : le chef-d'œuvre vaste et visionnaire de Giacomo Meyerbeer.

Lorsque Les Huguenots furent présentés au monde pour la première fois à Paris en 1836, dans les salles d'Auguste de l'Opéra, ce ne fut pas simplement une première – ce fut une révélation. Meyerbeer n'a pas composé un opéra ; il a construit un univers. Il a fusionné l'histoire et la passion humaine, l'amour intime et la catastrophe publique, en une fresque sonore monumentale. Les Guerres de Religion, avec leur terrible point culminant lors du massacre de la Saint-Barthélemy, sont devenues sous sa direction non seulement une tragédie politique, mais aussi une méditation éternelle sur la foi, l'intolérance, le courage et le sacrifice. La musique vibre d'une vitalité étonnante : des confessions intimes s'épanouissent en vastes cathédrales chorales ; un lyrisme délicat cède la place à un tonnerre orchestral terrifiant ; l'amour lui-même se dresse, fragile et lumineux, face à l'ombre grandissante de la violence.

Assister à cet opéra à Saint-Pétersbourg est une expérience particulièrement marquante. Cette ville, bâtie sur l'eau et la vision, est depuis longtemps un sanctuaire pour le grand art et la prise de risques. Ici, le public a toujours saisi l'ampleur de l'ambition de Meyerbeer. Sa musique s'exprime naturellement dans ce cadre impérial, où l'architecture elle-même semble composée selon des proportions symphoniques.

Ce soir, c'est le légendaire maestro Valery Gergiev, l'un des chefs d'orchestre les plus emblématiques de notre époque, qui dirige l'orchestre. Sa présence au podium est plus qu'une garantie d'excellence musicale : elle perpétue une tradition vivante. Gergiev possède ce don rare d'illuminer non seulement les notes, mais aussi l'architecture émotionnelle qui les sous-tend. Sous sa direction, l'immense partition de Meyerbeer ne se contente pas de se déployer ; elle vit, respire et s'embrase.

Autour de lui se rassemble une constellation – une galaxie de voix russes, héritières de l'une des plus riches traditions vocales au monde. Leur art nous rappelle que l'opéra n'est pas un artefact, mais une flamme vivante transmise de génération en génération.

Et pourtant, tandis que nous contemplons la représentation de ce soir, le souvenir se tourne inévitablement vers une figure immortelle qui a façonné l'héritage moderne de cette œuvre : Joan Sutherland. Son interprétation de Marguerite de Valois reste gravée dans la mémoire collective des mélomanes. Avec sa technique incomparable, son timbre rayonnant et sa maîtrise souveraine du bel canto, elle n'a pas simplement interprété le rôle – elle l'a défini. Sa voix, à la fois céleste et humaine, a révélé toute la majesté et la vulnérabilité de l'héroïne de Meyerbeer. Dans son chant, le passé semblait parler directement au présent.

Ce soir, cette lignée se poursuit.

Le théâtre s'obscurcit. Le murmure s'estompe. Le chauffeur lève la main.

Dans cet instant suspendu, nous sommes non seulement ancrés dans le présent, mais aussi dans la continuité de toutes les représentations qui nous ont précédés : Paris en 1836, Saint-Pétersbourg impériale au XIXe siècle, chaque chanteur et chaque auditeur qui a été touché par cette création extraordinaire.

Bientôt, les premières notes émergeront du silence.

Et une fois encore, le vaste et vibrant univers de Meyerbeer s'animera.

В жизни театра бывают вечера, когда само время словно складывается воедино, когда прошлое и настоящее стоят бок о бок под сиянием люстры, и история вновь дышит живыми голосами. Сегодня вечером в сияющем современном зале Мариинского театра наступает именно такой момент. В Санкт-Петербурге — городе, чья судьба всегда была переплетена с величием, трагедией и художественным бессмертием, — занавес вновь поднимается над одним из величайших памятников лирического искусства XIX века: грандиозным и провидческим шедевром Джакомо Мейербера.

Когда «Гугеноты» впервые предстали перед миром в Париже в 1836 году, в августовских залах Парижской оперы, это была не просто премьера — это было откровение. Мейербер не сочинил оперу; я создал вселенную. Он объединил историю и человеческие страсти, личную любовь и общественную катастрофу в монументальную звуковую фреску. Религиозные войны, с их ужасающей кульминацией в Варфоломеевской ночи, в его руках стали не только политической трагедией, но и вечным размышлением о вере, нетерпимости, мужестве и самопожертвовании. Музыка дышит поразительной жизненной силой: сокровенные признания расцветают в величественные хоровые соборы; тонкий лиризм уступает место ужасающему оркестровому грому; сама любовь хрупко и сияюще противостоит надвигающейся тени насилия.

Увидеть эту оперу в Санкт-Петербурге особенно значимо. Этот город, построенный на воде и величии, долгое время был пристанищем для великого искусства и великого риска. Здесь публика всегда понимала масштаб амбиций Мейербера. Его музыка звучит естественно в этой имперской обстановке, где сама архитектура кажется сочиненной в симфонических масштабах.

Председателем этого вечера является легендарный маэстро Валерий Гергиев, один из определяющих дирижеров нашей эпохи. Его присутствие за дирижерским пультом – это не просто гарантия музыкального совершенства, это продолжение живой традиции. Гергиев обладает редкой способностью освещать не только ноты, но и эмоциональную структуру, стоящую за ними. Под его руководством грандиозная партитура Мейербера не просто разворачивается; она живет, дышит и пылает.

Вокруг него собирается созвездие – галактика русских голосов, наследников одной из богатейших вокальных традиций на земле. Их мастерство напоминает нам, что опера – это не артефакт, а живое пламя, передаваемое из поколения в поколение.

И все же, размышляя о сегодняшнем представлении, память неизбежно обращается к одной бессмертной фигуре, сформировавшей современное наследие этого произведения: Джоан Сазерленд. Ее интерпретация Маргариты де Валуа навсегда запечатлена в коллективном сознании любителей оперы. Благодаря своей несравненной технике, сияющему тембру и безупречному владению стилем бельканто, она не просто исполнила роль – она определила ее. Её голос, одновременно небесный и человеческий, раскрыл всю величественность и уязвимость героини Мейербера. В её пении прошлое, казалось, обращалось непосредственно к настоящему.

Сегодня эта преемственность продолжается.

Театр погружается во тьму. Шум затихает. Водитель поднимает руку.

В этот застывший миг мы стоим не только в настоящем, но и в преемственности со всеми предыдущими представлениями — с Парижем 1836 года, с имперским Санкт-Петербургом XIX века, со всеми певцами и слушателями, которых когда-либо трогало это необыкновенное творение.

Вскоре из тишины прозвучат первые ноты.

И снова огромный и трепетный мир Мейербера оживёт.

New Orleans - French Opera House 1909

The French Opera House of New Orleans, also known as the Théâtre de l’Opéra, occupies a unique and often underestimated place in the cultural history of the United States. Opened in 1859 in the heart of the French Quarter, it quickly became far more than a performance venue: it was the social, artistic, and symbolic center of elite life in New Orleans until its destruction by fire in 1919. Today, the site is occupied by a hotel, but the legacy of the opera house continues to resonate far beyond its physical disappearance.

From the years following the Civil War until the First World War, the French Opera House was the most fashionable establishment in New Orleans. The opening night of the opera season marked the opening of the city’s social season itself. Attendance was not merely about music; it was a ritual governed by traditions, hierarchies, and long-established customs. To be seen at the opera—especially in one of the coveted box seats or loges grilles—was an affirmation of status. The oldest and most prominent families of New Orleans owned these boxes, which were passed down through generations and functioned almost as hereditary symbols of social standing.

The repertoire of the French Opera House reflected this refined world. Opera was at its core, but the stage also hosted ballets and high-society balls, reinforcing its role as a comprehensive cultural institution. In this respect, the French Opera House functioned much like the Vienna State Opera does today: a place where music, social life, and identity converged.

Beyond its local importance, the French Opera House played a pioneering role in American operatic history. Contrary to the widespread assumption that New York was the primary gateway for European opera into the United States, New Orleans frequently held that distinction in the nineteenth century. Thanks to its strong French cultural ties and its status as a major port city, New Orleans often received operatic works before Philadelphia, New York, or Boston. In this sense, the city—and the French Opera House in particular—was a true innovator.

Numerous operas were heard for the first time on American soil at this theater, especially works from the French repertoire. Operas by Massenet, Gounod, Lalo, Ambroise Thomas, Saint-Saëns, as well as later verismo composers such as Cilea and Giordano, found enthusiastic audiences there. One of the most striking examples is Le roi de Lahore by Jules Massenet. Although rarely performed today, the opera was a sensation when it premiered in New Orleans in 1883, becoming the triumph of the season. Society flocked to the performance, and it was widely discussed as a major artistic event.

Another landmark was Massenet’s Esclarmonde, first heard in America at the French Opera House in 1893. Like Le roi de Lahore, it belongs to a tradition of grand French opera that once captivated audiences but has since receded from mainstream performance. Yet these works were central to the musical life of New Orleans, where audiences were receptive, knowledgeable, and eager for the newest European creations.

It is important not to confuse the French Opera House with its predecessor, the Théâtre d’Orléans, which dominated operatic life in New Orleans during the first half of the nineteenth century. The Théâtre d’Orléans was also immensely influential and was responsible for many American premieres, but its performances were given exclusively in French, even when presenting Italian operas. Works such as Anna Bolena, Lucia di Lammermoor, and even Verdi’s Il trovatore—performed there in French—testify to the city’s deep-rooted Francophone operatic tradition.

Together, these two theaters established New Orleans as the earliest and most sustained operatic center in the United States. The French Opera House, in particular, embodied a moment when the city stood at the crossroads of Europe and America, absorbing and transmitting artistic innovation with remarkable sophistication.

Though the building itself no longer stands, the French Opera House remains a powerful symbol of a time when New Orleans led the nation in operatic culture, social ritual, and artistic ambition—a legacy that deserves far greater recognition in the broader narrative of American music history.

Le Théâtre de l’Opéra français de La Nouvelle-Orléans, communément appelé French Opera House (Théâtre de l’Opéra), et son prestigieux prédécesseur, le Théâtre d’Orléans, constituent ensemble un chapitre fondamental — et trop souvent méconnu — de l’histoire culturelle et musicale des États-Unis. Bien avant que New York ne s’impose comme capitale lyrique du pays, La Nouvelle-Orléans fut le premier grand foyer de l’opéra en Amérique, un lieu où l’Europe musicale trouvait un prolongement naturel sur le continent américain.

Le Théâtre d’Orléans : le berceau de l’opéra en Amérique

Le Théâtre d’Orléans, inauguré en 1815 rue d’Orléans, entre Royal et Bourbon, fut le plus important théâtre lyrique de La Nouvelle-Orléans dans la première moitié du XIXᵉ siècle. Conçu par Louis Tabary, réfugié de Saint-Domingue, il incarne dès l’origine le caractère profondément francophone et cosmopolite de la ville. Après un premier incendie, il fut reconstruit et rouvrit en 1819, accompagné de l’élégante Orleans Ballroom, toujours en usage aujourd’hui.

Sous la direction de John Davis, puis de Pierre Davis et enfin de Charles Boudousquié, le Théâtre d’Orléans devint un centre lyrique d’envergure internationale. Les représentations y étaient données exclusivement en français, y compris pour des opéras italiens, souvent présentés dans des adaptations françaises qui circulaient alors dans toute l’Europe.

C’est dans ce théâtre que furent données un nombre exceptionnel de premières américaines, bien supérieur à celui du French Opera House ultérieur. Dès 1819, le public de La Nouvelle-Orléans découvrait Jean de Paris de Boieldieu. Suivirent rapidement des œuvres majeures du répertoire romantique français et européen : La dame blanche, La muette de Portici, Zampa, Robert le diable, Les Huguenots, La Juive, Le prophète, Le comte Ory, Guillaume Tell ou encore La fille du régiment.

Fait remarquable, plusieurs opéras italiens emblématiques furent entendus pour la première fois en Amérique au Théâtre d’Orléans, en version française : Anna Bolena, Lucie de Lammermoor, La favorite, Don Pasquale, et même Il trovatore de Verdi, présenté en 1857 sous le titre Le trouvère. Cette pratique reflète non seulement la domination culturelle française à La Nouvelle-Orléans, mais aussi le goût raffiné d’un public habitué aux nouveautés européennes les plus audacieuses.

Le Théâtre d’Orléans fut détruit par un incendie en 1866, mettant fin à une époque héroïque de l’opéra en Amérique. Pourtant, son héritage allait se prolonger et s’épanouir dans un nouveau lieu.

Le French Opera House : l’âge d’or mondain et artistique

Ouvert en 1859, le French Opera House, situé au cœur du Vieux Carré, devint rapidement le centre névralgique de la vie sociale et culturelle de La Nouvelle-Orléans jusqu’à sa destruction par le feu en 1919. Si le Théâtre d’Orléans avait été le laboratoire des premières américaines, le French Opera House fut l’incarnation du prestige, de la mondanité et de la continuité d’une grande tradition lyrique.

Entre la guerre de Sécession et la Première Guerre mondiale, il fut l’établissement le plus élégant et le plus en vue de la ville. L’ouverture de la saison d’opéra marquait officiellement l’ouverture de la saison mondaine. Assister à une représentation n’était pas seulement un acte culturel, mais un événement social codifié, régi par des rituels précis. Les familles les plus anciennes et les plus influentes possédaient des loges — les célèbres loges grilles — transmises de génération en génération.

À l’instar de l’Opéra de Vienne aujourd’hui, le French Opera House n’était pas uniquement un lieu d’opéra : on y donnait également des ballets et des bals de la haute société, renforçant son rôle central dans l’identité culturelle de la ville.

Sur le plan artistique, le théâtre confirma le rôle pionnier de La Nouvelle-Orléans dans la diffusion de l’opéra en Amérique. De nombreuses œuvres françaises y furent entendues avant New York, Boston ou Philadelphie. Le répertoire de Massenet, Gounod, Lalo, Ambroise Thomas, Saint-Saëns, mais aussi de compositeurs italiens de la fin du siècle comme Cilea et Giordano, y occupait une place essentielle.

Parmi les événements les plus marquants figure la création américaine de Le roi de Lahore de Jules Massenet en 1883, qui fut le triomphe de la saison et un véritable phénomène social. Plus tard, Esclarmonde, autre chef-d’œuvre de Massenet, y fut entendue pour la première fois en Amérique en 1893, confirmant le goût du public de La Nouvelle-Orléans pour les œuvres les plus ambitieuses et novatrices de l’opéra français.

Une capitale lyrique oubliée

Ainsi, bien avant que l’opéra ne devienne synonyme de New York, La Nouvelle-Orléans fut la véritable porte d’entrée de l’opéra en Amérique. Le Théâtre d’Orléans posa les fondations, en offrant au public américain une quantité impressionnante de premières, tandis que le French Opera House porta cette tradition à son apogée artistique et mondaine.

Même si ces théâtres ont disparu, leur héritage demeure celui d’une ville qui, pendant plus d’un siècle, fut à l’avant-garde de la vie lyrique américaine, un carrefour unique où l’Europe musicale trouvait un écho passionné et sophistiqué sur les rives du Mississippi.