In the Shadow of the Lost Crown. ‘Oppressed Innocence’ in the Operas Dedicated to Maria Clementina Sobieska in Rome (1720–1730)

Eumene was the second production of the Teatro d’Alibert in the Carnival season of 1721⁽¹²⁾. On 2 February 1721 an English grand tourist named Richard Rawlinson made the following entry in his diary:

The opera's protagonist is based on a historical character; the real Eumene (Eumenes) was one of Alexander the Great's generals⁽¹⁴⁾. In the opera he is a paragon of all virtues, and a military leader whose intelligence and prowess are proverbial. Happily in love with Artemisia, who is the rightful ruler of Cappadocia, Eumene leads a military expedition in order to liberate Cappadocia on behalf of his beloved from the usurper queen Laodicea⁽¹⁵⁾. This version of Eumene was not the first occasion on which the character appeared on the European operatic scene⁽¹⁶⁾. It seems, however, that the Eumene dedicated to Maria Clementina was inspired by a Venetian production of 1697 with a libretto by Apostolo Zeno and music by Marc’Antonio Ziani⁽¹⁷⁾. It is important to stress that Eumene himself is not a pretender to the throne. Being the ruler of his own lands, he does not lay claim on the throne of Cappadocia, where he acts as a champion of the rightful ruler, Artemisia, and selflessly fights for her right to the throne (I,1).

From the very beginning, Eumene demonstrates formidable energy, dedication and the courage of conviction. He wants to win against the usurper. He is charismatic and confident, and sure of the passionate loyalty of his soldiers, who will follow him anywhere. Such a larger-than-life figure could not fail to win the instant respect and admiration of the audience. But, in accordance with operatic conventions, Eumene and Artemisia's path to victory (and to a happy ending) is full of obstacles, setbacks, and sudden reversals of fortune. Among the officers accompanying Eumene on his mission is one Antigene, the commander of an elite army unit called the Argyraspides. He is Eumene's comrade and was formerly his friend, but is now secretly in love with Artemisia. His jealousy prompts him to plot Eumene's downfall. Antigene betrays Eumene, giving his plans away to Laodicea; as a result, the protagonist is captured and imprisoned. His behaviour in captivity offers further proof of his noble spirit, as he magnanimously forgives Antigene (II,4):

Laodicea, the usurper queen, confesses to Eumene that she loves him. Even when she threatens him with Artemisia's death, the righteous Eumene declares that he must remain steadfast (II,14). He reacts in the same manner to the threat of his own execution. Imprisoned in his cell, he ponders on his situation and addresses fate directly, proudly promising to remain true to his word (III/9):

In this scene the audience can fully appreciate the tragic dimension of Eumene's predicament. He sinks into the abyss of despair, but despite the cruelty of fate, he remains true to himself. The audience's conviction that Eumene's trials would be impossible to endure by an ordinary human is confirmed when Laodicea comes up with another cunning plan. She convinces Eumene that Artemisia has been betrayed by Antigene and that she, too, is now imprisoned and about to be executed. Laodicea entertains the mad hope that Eumene will agree to marry her in order to save the life of his beloved. Predictably, Eumene refuses to yield to her blackmail (III,11).

On hearing Laodicea confess her passion to Eumene, Leonato, the prince of Macedonia who has been a loyal ally of Laodicea and is in love with her, is consumed with envy. He orders his troops to attack Laodicea's soldiers and seeks to bring about Eumene's death. They confront each other in a duel, which Eumene wins. Artemisia and Eumene are at last free to enjoy their mutual love, and Artemisia is also able to assume her rightful place on the throne. Artemisia magnanimously forgives Laodicea her usurpation and thanks her for not executing Eumene, while the latter asks Laodicea to accept Leonato as her husband. The opera ends with a quartet of the four lovers: Eumene and Artemisia, Leonato and Laodicea.

As I mentioned before, Eumene is a special case among the protagonists of the operas dedicated to Maria Clementina in that the main character is not in fact the rightful ruler seeking to regain the throne, but a champion who fights for the throne on behalf of a wronged queen. This fact notwithstanding, Eumene is also a hero in his own right⁽²⁰⁾. Though Eumene's moral steadfastness and fidelity to his own inner truth and to his beloved Artemisia remain unshaken, he nevertheless undergoes a transformation in the course of the story. When the opera begins, he is a proud and undefeated warrior, but in the course of the story he tastes the bitterness of defeat and betrayal. This experience makes him more human and more mature. It could be said that Eumene's misfortunes teach him to become a better and more compassionate ruler. In my opinion, the overall message of the opera supports the connection (or perhaps even the equation) between Eumene and James III in the minds of the audience. Once we accept such an identification, it becomes clear that, when the time comes, James III, like Eumene, will nobly live up to the task. Significantly, it is Eumene who sings the important last words before the finale featuring all the reconciled protagonists. These words, addressed to Eumene's little son (a mute figure in this opera) are as follows:

James III had already been the father of little Charles Edward for a year. Deprived of actual power, he possessed something more important in his Roman exile: faith. This can be understood literally as the Catholic faith which allowed him to count on political support in Rome, but also his confidence in the final victory, in his Jacobite followers, and his popularity in the Eternal City. Despite adverse circumstances, he retained a deep conviction that his mission would end in success. As the opera was dedicated to Maria Clementina, we see Eumene assisting Artemisia in attaining the same end; namely, regaining the throne that was due to her owing to her ancestry and love.

Porpora's next opera dedicated to Maria Clementina, Adelaide, was received with great applause. The already mentioned Richard Rawlinson praised both the libretto and the high values of the production: “went to the Theater of Aliberti, where was recited the Tragedy of Adelaide, which was well performed: the words good and sence [sic] no less”⁽²²⁾. On 2 February 1723, the Gazzetta di Napoli printed a highly enthusiastic review:

In the evening [on Saturday] in the Teatro Capranica there was performed a new opera entitled Ercole sul Termodonte, and in the Teatro d’Alibert was staged a drama entitled Adelaide, which was received with the greatest, and universal, praise, not because it featured the familiar stage sets, but on account of the music by the celebrated maestro di cappella Signor Nicolò Porpora, a native of Naples, who has on many previous occasions given to this spiritual city [i.e. Rome] proof of his talent, complemented by a keen intellect. What caused the greatest enthusiasm among the professional musicians in attendance was the fact that among the three operas by Signor Porpora given at the Teatro d’Alibert each one is different and yet all are perfect. Almost every evening the Cavaliere di S. Giorgio appears in the theatre with his wife in order to listen to these dramas, not without great pleasure⁽²³⁾ [emphasis by A.M.].

In the passage above, the anonymous reviewer noted that the “Cavaliere di S. Giorgio and his consort” appeared in the theatre every night. These mysterious personages are none other than James III and his wife Maria Clementina⁽²⁴⁾.

For this production, the Teatro d’Alibert used a libretto written in 1722 by Antonio Salvi and commissioned by the court in Munich for the wedding celebrations of Electoral Prince Charles Albert and Maria Amalia, Archduchess of Austria⁽²⁵⁾. My research in the archives of the Order of Malta in Rome led me to believe that the management of the Teatro d’Alibert commissioned Ignazio de Bonis to adapt the libretto.⁽²⁶⁾ I also managed to ascertain that the changes introduced by de Bonis were very significant⁽²⁷⁾.

Adelaide tells the story of an early medieval queen of Pavia, whose husband Lotario has been murdered by the evil prince Berengario⁽²⁸⁾. The murderer has usurped the crowns of Pavia and of all Italy. In order to secure his rule, he intends to marry Adelaide to his son Idelberto. The story reports Adelaide's rejection of this disgraceful offer, her noble conduct in captivity and dignified behaviour in the face of oppression; finally – her appeal for help to Emperor Ottone, who subsequently becomes her ally and protector. With his help, Adelaide defeats her enemies and reclaims the throne. This brief summary of the libretto brings out many superficial similarities to Eumene. At the centre of the story is a young queen, whose right to the throne is defended by a youth who is also her love interest. The difference lies in the writer's approach to the material, evident already in the titles. Whereas Eumene focuses on the male protagonist, Adelaide centres on the character of the queen.

When we first see Adelaide on the stage, she is remembering her murdered husband and their marital bliss (I,6):

In following scenes Adelaide confirms her image of a strong, self-sufficient monarch, who calls her champion to arms, and not that of a weak woman looking for a protector.

When Berengario enters Pavia, its people accept the new rulers. The usurper and his wife Matilde begin to push Adelaide to marry their son, which would legitimise the change of dynasty. The mounting pressure finds its climax in one of Porpora's most famous arias Noble onda, in which Adelaide welcomes her impending imprisonment, claiming that the harshness of prison life will be a fitting context for her constancy (I,17) ⁽³⁰⁾.

The climax of Act II comes with the scenes in the tower, where Adelaide is imprisoned (II, 7–11). She is desperately unhappy and sees death as the only hope for deliverance. Her emotional outpouring ends with an aria entitled Quanto bello agl’occhi miei, which can be described as an appeal to death. But even in the face of death and at the bottom of despair, Adelaide is still strong. Soon after, she receives a darkly apposite gift from her jailer, Matilde, who brings her two covered dishes. One contains a dagger and a flask of poison, and the other – a crown and sceptre. Adelaide chooses the dagger. As she is poised to stab herself, a horrified Idelberto threatens his mother that if Adelaide kills herself, he too will commit suicide. Matilde relents, but she is full of disdain for her son. She rages in impotent fury against Adelaide's pride, but is powerless in the face of such steadfastness. Adelaide then joins in a duet with Idelberto titled Vanne, soffri/Vado e soffro (II,12), where each of them sings about his or her own constancy in the face of cruel fate.

At the beginning of act III Berengario and Matilde force Adelaide to write a letter to Ottone asking him to sign a declaration of peace with Berengario on very favourable terms. But their threats are once again rendered ineffective because Adelaide's honour forbids her to write to the emperor while imprisoned by his enemies and treated as a mere slave. These are very strong words, which leave us in no doubt as to Adelaide's genuinely royal character.”

Predictably, in this opera as well the good finally triumphs over evil, justice is served, and loyalty, honour, courage and steadfastness receive their due reward. When Ottone's armies breach the walls of Pavia, Matilde, in a final act of villainy, uses Adelaide as a human shield. Ottone is forced to suspend the attack so as not to harm his beloved. In this situation the noble Idelberto offers his life in exchange for Adelaide's. Thanks to Idelberto's betrayal of his parents, Ottone is able to defeat Matilde, whose maternal love prevails over her cruelty and hatred of Adelaide. After Ottone's victory, Idelberto begs the newly freed Adelaide to show mercy to his mother. The newly restored queen treats her with magnanimous clemency (Magnanima Clemenza is a word play on word alluding directly to Maria Clementina)⁽³²⁾ and generous pity (Generosa pietà). Adelaide and Ottone can finally celebrate their mutual love. In the end, the character of Italia in machina (Italia Trionfante) appears on the stage, likewise praising the victorious Ottone. This allegorical licenza is unique to the Roman version of Adelaide. It does not appear in any other of the many librettos centred around Queen Adelaide of Italy⁽³³⁾.

The key to interpreting the Roman Adelaide can in fact be found already on the first page of the libretto, in the opera's dedication, which reads: “[...] we beg Your Majesty to continue the honour that this theatre enjoys through your patronage, following which, wishing you the same outcome that Adelaide experienced after so many misfortunes, and for which the whole world sighs [emphasis by A.M.], we make a very deep bow [to you].”⁽³⁴⁾

The dedication clearly indicates that the theatre's management saw parallels between the fate of Adelaide and that of Maria Clementina. Like Adelaide, Maria Clementina came from a royal family. Her grandfather, John III Sobieski, was king of Poland, and her father, Jakub Sobieski, for a long time nurtured the ambition to reclaim his father's throne. Like Adelaide, Maria Clementina was born to a life of wealth and privilege, was imprisoned for political reasons, and escaped her captors. Both ‘queens’ also demonstrated a considerable amount of courage in the face of adversity. Both stories seemed to have a traditional happy ending: Adelaide married Emperor Otto I, and Maria Clementina married James III Stuart, the claimant to the English throne. Both ladies were widely praised for their beauty, intelligence, and pleasant manner, which allowed them to win friends and supporters.

In the dedication quoted above, the authors declare their wish that Maria Clementina's fate should be similar to that of Adelaide. The audience at the Teatro d’Alibert and the readers of the printed libretto undoubtedly understood the allusion: it meant that Maria Clementina was destined to become a queen. She would not be the queen of Poland (although it should be noted that Jakub Sobieski unsuccessfully tried to persuade his son-in-law to stand as a candidate for Poland's elective throne). The authors of the dedication were in fact implying that one day Maria Clementina would sit on the throne of Great Britain. To my mind, this suggests that Adelaide's last aria, in which she praises Ottone's virtues, and the final appearance of Italia Trionfante, who addresses the emperor using the words “Viva, viva, il sublime Vincitore”, should be read as allusions to Maria Clementina's husband and his political prospects.

The premiere of Siroe, re di Persia, to a libretto by Pietro Metastasio, took place on 11 February 1727⁽³⁵⁾. The Roman chronicler Francesco Valesio noted in his Diario di Roma: “This evening saw the premiere of the second drama in the Teatro Ariberti [sic – A.M.], which gave complete satisfaction in respect of set designs, especially in the last scene, which shows a great colonnade.”⁽³⁶⁾

Siroe, re di Persia could be described as a domestic drama. The story deals with the complications that result from the king of Persia's decision to pass his crown on not to his eldest son Siroe (a paragon of virtue, loved by the soldiers and the common people alike), but to Medarse, his favourite younger son. In contrast to the heroic Siroe, Medarse is evil and deceitful. The opera recounts the conflict between the two brothers and the surrounding court intrigues, which at first turn against the virtuous Siroe. In the last act justice prevails, however, and Siroe, despite all his earlier adversities, becomes the king of Persia without compromising his honour or principles. How does this triumph of goodness and virtue come about? What twists of fate and changes of emotion does Metastasio have in stock for his protagonist?

Siroe is subjected to a series of humiliations and misfortunes which would break the will of any ordinary mortal. Already in the first scene he is bitterly betrayed by his father. The old Cosroe assembles his court in order to announce who is going to be his successor (un degno Erede). Since he plans to break the rules of succession and appoint his younger son as his heir, he makes both sons promise that they will accept his decision. This humiliates Siroe, who feels that he should be chosen as the successor, not only owing to his superior military prowess and numerous noble deeds, but simply because of the laws of nature (I,1):

In the subsequent scenes Siroe is jilted by his lover Emira because he refuses to murder his father. Emira reveals that she wants Cosroe to die because he killed her own father and took her kingdom (so far, she has been living at the court under an assumed name and keeping her story secret). Emira assures Siroe that she will kill Cosroe even without his help. Siroe thus has to solve a moral dilemma, choosing between his father's life and the woman he loves. The choice is less complicated than it seems as the righteous Siroe simply cannot bring himself to commit patricide. Another complication is that Siroe becomes the object of revenge for another passionate female character, Laodice. She is unhappily in love with him, and out of spite she falsely accuses Siroe of having ravished her, and demands revenge from his father. Cosroe willingly listens to accusations against his elder son. Now Siroe writes an anonymous letter to his father, warning him of a possible assassination attempt. Learning about this, Emira breaks up with Siroe, who is then interrogated on Cosroe's orders, but, striving to protect Emira, refuses to give any details of the planned attack, and thus he himself becomes the prime suspect. The protagonist's misfortunes pile up in Metastasio's. Siroe is isolated, alienated and imprisoned. He becomes the object of hatred, anger and revenge, even from those dearest to him.⁽³⁸⁾ He himself is aware of his unparalleled plight (I, 13):

Siroe's misfortunes in Act I cannot fail but generate pity and terror in the hearts of the audience. His fate, cruel and unjust, makes the audience expect a reversal of fortune. The opera spectators want Siroe to try and save himself. Siroe's opponents, Medarse and especially Cosroe (represented as a terrible father and king who breaks the sacred laws of nature), are worthy of hatred and anger. The stage is thus set for a powerful confrontation between good and evil. This set of characters may have reminded the original audience of the situation of James III, who was barred from succession after the death of his father James II and of his two half-sisters from his father's first marriage, Maria and Anna. Pursuant to the provisions the Act of Settlement, adopted in 1701, the English crown could never fall into the hands of a Catholic. For this reason, upon Anna's death the throne did not pass on to her brother, but to a more distant cousin, Sophia Wittelsbach, the wife of the Elector of Hanover.

In Act II Siroe tries to defend his innocence but is still remarkably passive. His behaviour further increases his father's distrust, as Cosroe becomes certain that somebody is plotting against him. Siroe's silence is typical of the righteous protagonists of Metastasio's libretti, accused of crimes which they did not commit⁽⁴⁰⁾. This is emphasised by the lines he repeats during interrogation scenes, such as “Dirti di più non deggio” (“I am not duty-bound to tell you more”), “Difendermi non posso, e reo non sono” (“I cannot explain myself, but I am not evil”), “Finche vuoi tacerò, così prometto” (“I will keep silent for so long as you wish, as I have promised”), “Parlar non posso” (“I cannot speak”) and the aside “Che pena è tacer!” (“How painful it is to remain silent!”). Siroe nobly rejects the offer of help which comes from his loyal friend, General Arasse, who offers to start a rebellion against Cosroe. Act II also contains pessimistic comments on the life of the court, which the principal characters view as a place where everybody's life, including that of the ruler, can be in danger. In the words of Emira (sung in her final aria in Act II/15) the court is full of lies, betrayals and fear.

The motif of lies plays an important role in the stories of all the principal characters and in their characterisation: Cosroe intends to deceive nature and tradition by appointing Medarse as his heir; Emira is not Cosroe's true ally but his secret enemy (as the daughter of his former adversary) and she plots to assassinate him; Laodice lies to Cosroe that Siroe ravished her; Medarse pretends that he loves his father while in fact he is motivated solely by self-interest. Furthermore, in Act III Arasse lies to Cosroe, pretending that he killed Siroe on his orders. Even when Laodice confesses the truth and admits that she lied about the rape because of her unrequited love, this does not resolve the complicated situation. On the contrary, it inspires Cosroe's jealousy, because he sees Siroe as a rival for Laodice's hand.

The most emotionally charged scenes in Act III involve Cosroe, Emira, and Arasse. The latter informs the king that Siroe is dead, and that it was his dying wish for Arasse to defend Cosroe. This message deeply moves Emira, who calls Cosroe (in quick succession) a barbarian (barbaro), a tyrant (tiranno), a monster of cruelty (mostro di crudeltà), the shame of Persia (vergogna della Persia), and finally, the object of hate of the whole world (odio del mondo). No one, not even the closest ally, is allowed to insult the king, so Cosroe is staggered by her outburst. But Emira is past caring; she reveals her true identity as the daughter of Cosroe's fallen enemy and confesses that she has plotted his death. She also adds that Siroe was the one who always defended his father and stood by his side. Emira is sent to prison, and the stunned Cosroe is left with his guilty conscience and bitter knowledge.

Meanwhile, in Act III the imprisoned Siroe, accused of crimes he did not commit, succumbs to deep moral despair (III, 9):

Siroe's musings are at variance with the overall Christian message of Metastasio's libretto. Human life is not ruled by chance and vice can never triumph in the end. Sooner or later, all evil deeds are punished, and the wrongdoers receive their just deserts. While the final chorus contains a conventional expression of satisfaction with the happy ending, the true political and moral message of the opera is contained in the final recitative sung by Medarse (III,13):

More than 20 years after the death of Maria Clementina Sobieska, the Scottish philosopher Adam Smith recognised (in the treatise which I quoted above as the motto of this paper) the universal human aspiration to reach the highest rank in a given society and to belong to the select group of the rich and powerful who shape the fate of the world. As this ambition is manifestly impossible to fulfil for the vast majority of the population, they settle for the vicarious pleasure of observing and possibly imitating the actions of those belonging to the elite (many of whom were born to privilege and spend their whole lives being observed and admired). As a consequence, becoming privy to the misfortunes of people belonging to the highest sphere of society, especially those of rulers, is apt to arouse feelings of regret and indignation in the breasts of spectators. Smith goes on to suggest that those spectators readily accept that for people of high status pain is more agonising, and suffering more acute, than for persons of lower rank⁽⁴⁴⁾. He asserts that the fall of a king or queen arouses in ordinary people a desire to see these monarchs restored to their rightful place. It is consistent with this undoubtedly accurate observation that during the early modern period a fundamental desire for stability and harmony (and for their restoration in situations of crisis) would bring popularity to the theatrical topos of a ruler's downfall. In actual fact, this particular theme seems to come second in terms of frequency only to that of the two lovers who become separated and need to overcome obstacles in order to be reunited.

Smith's description of the public's reactions is highly relevant to the study of operas dedicated to Maria Clementina Sobieska (and above all to her husband James III Stuart). As a public theatre, the Teatro d’Alibert had to cater to a diverse audience. While it was still strictly hierarchical, in a sense it was also democratic. The best and most expensive seats (and boxes) in the house belonged to the richest and most powerful people in Rome – cardinals, diplomats, Italian and foreign aristocracy⁽⁴⁵⁾. Those audience members could easily put themselves in the ‘shoes’ of the Stuarts; thanks to their own exalted status, they were aware of the magnitude of the Stuarts’ loss and their predicament as royalty in exile. Both the supporters and enemies of the Stuarts could easily understand the political allusions hidden in the operas. The less privileged members of the audience could also in some measure share the emotions of their social betters, and they did, as Rawlison's remarks suggest. According to Smith's theory, they could experience “compassion and resentment”, which were all the stronger because the operas were frequently performed in the presence of James III and his consort (whose exile, according to the Stuart propaganda, would only be temporary but in fact it lasted and offered an opportunity to feel sympathy for their fate.) The lieto fine which ended each of the operas I have analysed fulfilled the audience's “desire for stability and harmony”, as mentioned by Smith. Thus, the ritual of the opera, repeated each evening during the season, was also an act of participation in an illusory political staging of Stuart restoration. Taking part in this event nobilitated the audiences in a way, inviting them to witness a historic (though imaginary) moment. Using the popular theme of ‘oppressed innocence’ in connection with those of the usurpation of the throne and restoration of harmony, the opera works dedicated to Maria Clementina had power to evoke the ‘appropriate emotions’⁽⁴⁶⁾, such as sympathy, empathy, resentment, and indignation which could prove helpful to the Stuarts’ political ends. It must have been felt that using the topic of ‘oppressed innocence’ is more suitable in works dedicated to Sobieska. It should be remembered that Maria Clementina became an oppressed innocent in her own right and a celebrity after the hair-raising escape from captivity in the fortress of Innsbruck, where she had been unlawfully imprisoned on the orders of Emperor Charles VI and King George I of England⁽⁴⁷⁾. Oppressed innocence was thus ‘her-story’, to use a modern expression. It was all the more vital because James III felt that, despite papal favour and the Romans’ generally positive attitude towards him, he still had continually to remind the world of the justness of his claim. It hence served his interests to link the family name to these tales of wronged rulers. Such tales found an enthusiastic audience among the opera-loving Romans who flocked to the theatre every evening during the season in order to witness the final triumph of historical or legendary monarchs on the stage, while perhaps at the same time hoping for a similar restoration of the real king who sat among them in his box.