Mariella Devia is Elisabetta in Marseille Opera house on Nov 22nd.

Bel canto lovers will be welcoming Mariella Devia in four concert versions of Roberto Devereux. This anticipation of her beautiful singing in this over demanding role of Elisabetta reveals the impatience of a child in my old 'me'...
I have never heard Roberto Devereux live, and at the moment I am getting ready to listen to the cast on Marseille stage, possibly not reading the subtitles if I have sufficiently listened to all the arias of this acrobatic score for all the characters. I prevented myself from watching the famous Edita Gruberova's DVD, because I really need to get into the music without the support of images. I know fairly well how Edita-Elisabetta finished the opera, the 'whig act' before she died.. I keep this for after the 22nd, this time knowing so well that having Mrs Devia is a unique opportunity here. I have booked for the 22nd and the 27th(the first and the last one). Mrs Devia is also one of the rare Italian belcantist who performs the tradition as it is written.
I know her Queens on cds, I have never had the chance to actually see her so far. The 22nd is going to be a great musical evening, the cabaletta rythm accelerates with tension in emotions and turns of mind.. here they are different in words and music endings, they are more difficult and acrobatic, for Elisabetta mainly. The richness of the music makes it very demanding on the singers who must master this art of bel canto, well illustrated by Bellini, Donizetti and Rossini.
Her part is highly adorned and flying high but
Sara's part ( mezzo) is also daring right from the beginning of the opera. She is secretly in love with Lord Essex and has a very melancholic aria in the opening scene: Perhaps it is the musician who right from the beginning gave way to his sorrow, through a touching aria: All'afflitto é dolce il pianto.
The year Roberto Devereux was created, Donizetti lost both chidren and wife.
Last year I happened to see Donizetti and Rossini nearly side by side in portraits up on a wall in the music room of the Musée de la Vie Romantique. Rossini was beaming with appetite for life(and " Gourmet Cuisine" as we know) and I could not help comparing this beaming fattish face to the gloomy, stern look of his neighbour Donizetti. In Roberto Devereux the melancholy is expressed by all the main characters, either men or women. The music goes far beyond the plot at the English Elisabethan Court.
Here is Sara's complaint, mezzo Sonia Ganassi is Sara, I loved her singing and acting at la Fenice in Elisabetta (Maria Stuarda).


All'afflitto é dolce il pianto...
la gioia che gli resta...
Una stella a me funesta
anche il pianto mi viet

Della tua pi cruda, oh quanto,
Rosamonda, la mia sorte!
Tu peristi d'una morte...
Io vivendo ognor morr)

Verdi's Romances are interpreted by Mariella Devia, and I enjoy these as premises for further opera arias.
This is one I like most:

Perduta ho la pace.
Verdi.
(Wolfgang Goethe, Faust) Translation Luigi Balestra in Italian,in English: LINK
My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,Perduta ho la pace,
ho in cor mille guai;
Ah, no, più non spero
trovarla più mai.

M'è buio di tomba
ov'egli non è;
Senz'esso un deserto
è il mondo per me.

Mio povero capo
confuso travolto;
Oh misera, il senno,
il senno m'è tolto!

Perduta ho la pace,
ho in cor mille guai;
Ah, no, più non spero
trovarla più mai.

S'io sto al finestrello,
ho gl'occhi a lui solo;
S'io sfuggo di casa,
sol dietro a lui volo.

Oh, il bel portamento;
oh, il vago suo viso!
Qual forza è nei sguardi,
che dolce sorriso!

E son le parole
un magico rio;
Qual stringer di mano,
qual bacio, mio Dio!

Perduta ho la pace,
ho in cor mille guai;
Ah, no, più non spero
trovarla più mai.

Anela congiungersi
al suo il mio petto;
Potessi abbracciarlo,
tenerlo a me stretto!

Baciarlo potessi,
far pago il desir!
Baciarlo! e potessi
baciata morir.



I will find it never
and never more.

Where I do not have him,
That is the grave,
The whole world
Is bitter to me.

My poor head
Is crazy to me,
My poor mind
Is torn apart.

My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I will find it never
and never more.

For him only, I look
Out the window
Only for him do I go
Out of the house.

His tall walk,
His noble figure,
His mouth's smile,
His eyes' power,

And his mouth's
Magic flow,
His handclasp,
and ah! his kiss!

My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I will find it never
and never more.

My bosom urges itself
toward him.
Ah, might I grasp
And hold him!

And kiss him,
As I would wish,
At his kisses
I should die!
Meine Ruh' ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.

Wo ich ihn nicht hab
Ist mir das Grab,
Die ganze Welt
Ist mir vergällt.

Mein armer Kopf
Ist mir verrückt,
Mein armer Sinn
Ist mir zerstückt.

Meine Ruh' ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.

Nach ihm nur schau ich
Zum Fenster hinaus,
Nach ihm nur geh ich
Aus dem Haus.

Sein hoher Gang,
Sein' edle Gestalt,
Seine Mundes Lächeln,
Seiner Augen Gewalt,

Und seiner Rede
Zauberfluß,
Sein Händedruck,
Und ach, sein Kuß!

Meine Ruh' ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.

Mein Busen drängt sich
Nach ihm hin.
[Ach]1 dürft ich fassen
Und halten ihn,

Und küssen ihn,
So wie ich wollt,
An seinen Küssen
Vergehen sollt!