This opera was given its first performance on the 27th of December, 1817, at the Teatro Argentina in Rome. On this occasion no librettist was listed, but after many years and several mistaken identities, it is now known that he was Giovanni Federico Schmidt. This Tuscan-born author had a lack of success over the years, so much so that his mere appearance was said to inspire melancholy. He wrote for Rossini twice more—Elisabetta regina d’Inghilterra (1815) and Armida (1817), as well as a host of other composers, including Donizetti and Pacini. Yet this libretto is often condemned as weak and insufficient.
The drama itself regards the historical personage of Adelaide, born in 931 of the King of Burgundy. She was said to be beautiful and intelligent, and in 947 married Lotario, one of the ten Burgundian princes. He in turn was murdered, probably by his successor Berengario, who imprisoned her in a fortress on the shores of Lake Como. She escaped, and turned to Iroldo, the governor of the fortress at Canosso, for protection. She then appeals to the great Ottone, the Emperor of Germany, promising him marriage and ceding her rights to the crown of Italy.
It is here that the opera begins. Basically, the action involves the various scuffling that occurs between Ottone, Berengario, and his son, Adelberto. There are shenanigans galore in this opera, with each of the protagonists thinking that they have outwitted the others, but in the end, as in real life, Ottone and Adelaide are indeed married and crowned King and Queen of the Holy Roman Empire (still so styled in the west, even though the Byzantines would certainly protest it) by Pope John XII in 961. So the opera ends in a flourish with suitable joy and happiness.
Adelaide’s husband actually dies in 973, and she entered into a struggle with her son, Otto II, probably over her lavish spending on religious and charitable institutions. Her grandson, Otto III, was crowned Emperor in 996, and from then on she devoted herself to churchly activities, so much so that just short of 100 years after her death in 999, she was declared St. Adelaide (or Adelheid) by Pope Urban II.
Though Schmidt got some of his facts wrong, he is generally scrupulously attentive to the details of this story. But someone—Rossini?—greatly savaged the recitatives where so much of Schmidt’s dramatic action is revealed. Nevertheless, the opera enjoyed a modicum of success, though time has not been kind to it. Some of the opera’s authorship has been questioned, and much of the work seems like Rossini-hack, done quickly with a buck in mind. But Rossini’s worst music often outclasses the lifelong effort of others, and I found this a thoroughly delightful couple of hours, despite the dry recitative and obvious slowdown in dramatic pace in places.
The Adelaide of Majella Cullagh (a name new to me) is very nicely tempered, with no overly-emotive screeches, and the sense of dignity so needed to properly portray this regal character. But it should come as no surprise that the trouser role of Ottone, played with great skill and brilliant effect by Jennifer Larmore, almost steals the show. Larmore’s role is definitely subsidiary, and Rossini gave the vast bulk of the better arias to the heroine, but Larmore is almost without peer today in this style, and it shows. Bruce Ford delights as the confused, sometimes indecisive Adelberto, displaying great agility in the demanding arias Rossini almost always writes for the tenor voice, and Mirco Palazzi does a creditable role with Berengario, perhaps lacking the last degree of menace, but convincing nonetheless.
I did wish for a little more fire from the Scottish forces, something that might have added another ounce of heft to the action, but by and large the orchestra plays excellently. This was recorded in concert, and the applause seems a little reserved to me at times, so one cannot be sure how the Scots reacted to this work. I think I might like it more than they, and the wonderful sound certainly helps in that enjoyment. Add to the mix the sterling production by Opera Rara, complete with texts, translations, and wonderful, comprehensive notes and color pictures in a 150-page booklet, and you have a first-class production that will be essential for Rossini fans, and certainly seductive for all others.
— Steven Ritter
