The Russian opera

KEODOR IVANOVJCH SHALIAPIN

THE
RUSSIAN OPERA

BY
ROSA

NEWMARCH

WITH SIXTEEN
ILLUSTRATIONS

HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
ARUNDEL PLACE HAYMARKET
LONDON S.W. ffl « MCMXIV

1737

THE ANCHOB PBESS, LTD., TIPTBEE, ESSEX.

TO

FEODOR IVANOVICH SHALIAPIN

IN MEMORY OF OUR OLD FRIEND
VLADIMIR VASSILIEVICH STASSOV

PREFACE

BETWEEN January igth, 1900, and April
4th, 1905, I read before the Musical
Association of London five papers deal-
ing with the Development of National Opera in
Russia, covering a period from the first perform-
ance of Glinka's A Life for the Tsar in 1836, to
the production of Rimsky-Korsakov's opera
The Tsar's Bride, in 1899. These lectures were
illustrated by the following artists : the
late Mrs. Henry J. Wood, Miss Grainger Kerr,
Mr. Seth Hughes, Mr. Robert Maitland ;
Sir (Mr.) Henry J. Wood and Mr. Richard
Epstein at the piano. While using these lectures
as the scaffolding of my present book, I have
added a considerable amount of new material,
amassed during ten years unremitting research
into my subject. The additions concern chiefly
the earlier phases of Russian music, and the
operas that have appeared since 1900. The
volume also contains some account of the
foundation of the nationalist school of composers

viii PREFACE

under the leadership of Balakirev. It has been
my privilege to meet and converse with most of
the members of this circle. I give also a few
details about the literary champion of " the
Invincible Band," Vladimir Stassov, under whose
guidance I first studied the history of Russian
music. With all modesty I believe I may claim
to have been a pioneer worker in this field.
When in 1895 I published my translation (from
the French edition of M. Habets) of Stassov's
book on Borodin, and followed it up in 1897 by
a series of articles — the fruits of my first visit to
Russia — in that short-lived weekly The Musician,
the literature of the subject was by no means
copious, even in Russia itself ; while the daily
increasing public in Western Europe who were
anxious to learn something about the remarkable
galaxy of composers newly arisen in the east,
based their knowledge and opinions almost
entirely upon Cesar Cui's pamphlet La Musique
en Russie, an interesting, but in many respects
misleading, statement of the phenomenon; or
upon the views propagated by Rubinstein and
his followers, wherefrom they learnt that the
Russians, though musically gifted, were only
represented by incapable amateurs.
Happily for its own enjoyment, the world

PREFACE ix

has grown wiser. The last few years have
witnessed the vindication of Moussorgsky's
genius in France and England ; a consummation
devoutly wished, but hardly anticipated, by
those who had been convinced from the begin-
ning of the nobility and sincerity of spirit and
motive which entitles his two finished operas to
be regarded as masterpieces. During Sir Joseph
Beecham's season of Russian Opera at Drury
Lane last year, Rimsky-Korsakov's early music-
drama Ivan the Terrible (" The Maid of Pskov ")
made a profound impression, with Shaliapin
in the part of the tyrant Tsar. In the forth-
coming season it is Borodin's turn to be
introduced to the British public, and I confi-
dently predict the success of his lyric opera
Prince Igor. So, one by one, these Russians,
" eaters of tallow candles, Polar bears, too long
consumers of foreign products, are admitted in
their turn in the character of producers." 1

In view of the extended interest now felt in
Russian opera, drama and ballet, it has been
thought worth while to offer to the public this
outline of the development of a genuine national
opera, from the history of which we have much
to learn in this country, both as regards the

1 Letter from Borodin to Countess Mercy -Argenteau

x PREFACE

things to be attempted and those to be shunned.
Too much technical analysis has been intention-
ally avoided in this volume. The musician can
supply this deficiency by the study of the
scores mentioned in the book, which, dating
from Glinka's time, have nearly all been
published and are therefore accessible to the
student ; the average opera-goer will be glad
to gain a general view of the subject, unencum-
bered by the monotonous terminology of musical
analysis.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA

PAGE

Primitive music of the Russian Slavs. The four
periods of Russian music. The Skomorokhi
or Gleemen. Clerical Intolerance. Church pa-
geants. Tsar Alexis Mikhailovich, the first
patron of music and the drama. Biblical plays
with incidental music. Mystery plays of Dmitri
of Rostov. Origin of the Ballet. First public
theatre in Russia, 1703. I

CHAPTER II
THE RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA

Accession of Empress Anne. Cultivation of the
folk melodies. Change of taste. The Italians
bring in secular plays. Feodor Volkov. Music
under Catherine the Great. Fomin and his
operas. Berezovsky and Bortniansky. Further
change of taste under Alexander I. Patriotic
enthusiasm following French invasion of 1812.
Cavos exploits national melody. Verstovsky
and Alabiev. 32

CHAPTER III
MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA

Childhood and education of Glinka. His awakening
to music. Early years in the country. Love
of nature. First music lessons. He enters the
Civil Service. Begins to write songs. Visit
to Italy. Musical studies in Berlin. 69

xii CONTENTS

CHAPTER IV
GLINKA'S OPERAS

PAGE

Marriage and home surroundings. A Life for the
Tsar. Features of the music. Its reception
in Russia. Prince Kholmsky and the songs.
Russian and Liudmilla. Later works. Failure
of health. His interpretation of Russian na-
tionality in music. 89

CHAPTER V
DARGOMIJSKY

Alexander Sergei vich Dargomijsky. His meeting
with Glinka. Visit to Paris. Esmeralda and
The Triumph of Bacchus. Growing interest in
national music. Begins work on Poushkin's
Roussalka. Second tour in Western Europe.
Balakirev and his circle. The Stone Guest. His
treatment of national character as compared
with Glinka's. 117

CHAPTER VI
SEROV

Musical life in Russia at the time of Glinka and
Dargomijsky. Musical criticism and the aca-
demic party. Rapid increase of conservatoires
and schools. Struggle between the young na-
tionalists in music and the officials to whom
foreign composers were supreme. Two great
musical critics, Alexander Serov and Vladimir
Stassov. Serov's writings and compositions.
His devotion to Wagner. Production of Judith
and Rogneda. Estimate of Serov's music. 137

CHAPTER VII
ANTON RUBINSTEIN

Early life and education. His d6but as a prodigy
pianist. Musical studies in Berlin. Court
pianist at St. Petersburg. His early operas.
Dmitri Donskoi and Thomoushka Dourachok.

CONTENTS xiii

PAGE

Imperial Russian Musical Society. Biblical
operas, The Tower of Babel, The Maccabees, Para-
dise Lost, The Shulamite. Secular and national
operas, The Demon, Nero, and The Merchant
Kalashnikov. Historical Concerts. Rubinstein's
opportunism. Estimate of his work and in-
fluence. l62

CHAPTER VIII
BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES

Balakirev. The nationalist circle. Social inter-
course. Rimsky-Korsakov. Goussakovsky.
The Free School. Borodin. The Pourgolds.
Hostility of the Press. Solidarity of " the
Invincible Band." 183

CHAPTER IX

PERSONAL MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S
CIRCLE

Gradual dissolution of the circle of friends. Personal
reminiscences of Balakirev. Individual develop-
ment of " the Invincible Band." Belaiev. Lody-
jensky. Liadov. Vladimir Stassov. Personal
Reminiscences. Z98

CHAPTER X
MOUSSORGSKY

Two tendencies in Russian opera, the lyrical and
the declamatory. Moussorgsky the disciple of
Dargomijsky. Literary and social influences.
Biographical details. Early unfinished operas.
Boris Godounov. Khovanstchina. Rimsky-Kor-
sakov as editor. 218

CHAPTER XI
BORODIN AND CUI

Borodin. Biographical details. Prince Igor. Com-
parison of Igor with Glinka's Russian and Liud-

xiv CONTENTS

PAGE

milla. Orientalism and optimism in Prince Igor.
Death of Borodin. Cesar Cui. His French - —
descent. Early opera's', The Mandarin's Son,
The Captive in the Caucasus, William Ratcliff,
Angela, The Saracen. A French opera, Le Fli-
bustier. Mam'selle Fifi. Analysis of Cui's style. 253

CHAPTER XII
RIMSKY-KORSAKOV

Rimsky-Korsakov's position as a national com-
poser and as a teacher. Biographical. Joins
Balakirev's circle. Leaves the naval service.
His early works. A tone-painter. His first
Opera. The Maid of Pskov (Ivan the Terrible).
Accession of the Emperor Alexander III. He
encourages Russian music. A Night in May.
The Snow-Maiden (Sniegourochka). Mlada.
Christmas Eve Revels. Mozart and Salieri. Boy-
arinya Vera Sheloga. Sadko. The Tsar's Bride.
The Legend of Tsar Saltan. The use of the leit-
motif. Servilia. Kastchei the Immortal. Wag-
nerian influence. Pan Voyevode. The Tale of the
City of Kitezh. The Golden Cock. 281

CHAPTER XIII
TCHAIKOVSKY

Tchaikovsky considered apart from the nationalist
circle. His early love of Italian opera. The
Voyevode. Undine. The Oprichnik. The libretto
described. Cherevichek, or Le Caprice d'Oxane.

Passing influence of Balakirev's circle. £ugene .

Oniegin. The Maid of Orleans. The composer's
enthusiasm for this opera. Mazeppa. Analysis
of the subject. Charodeika (The Enchantress).
The Queen of Spades. lolanthe. Analysis vy£.
of Tchaikovsky's operatic styles. 334

CONTENTS xv

CHAPTER XIV
CONCLUSION

PAGE

Some minor composers. Napravnik : The Citizens of
Nijny-Novgorod, Harold, Doubrovsky, Francesca
da Rimini. Blarambetg :, Skomorokhi, The Rous-
salka-Maidenrfoushinets, The Wave. Arensky :
A Dream on the Volga, Raphael, Nal and Damyanti.
JRachmaninoy : Aleko. Grechyaninov : Dolrynia
^Niffiftch. -Ippolitov-Ivanov : Ruth, Assy a. Kalin-
nikov : The Year 1812. Taneiev: Orestes. Foreign
influence in contemporary Russian music. Rebi-
kov : In the Storm, The Christmas Tree. Kaza-
chenko, Korestchenko, Kochetov, Stravinsky,
Famous operatic singers : Platonova, Petrov,
Melnikov, the Figners, Shaliapin. Mamantov
and the Moscow Private Opera Company. Great

increase of opera companies in Russia. Conclud:

ing^ observations 362

THE

RUSSIAN

OPERA

t.

THE RUSSIAN OPERA

CHAPTER I

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA

THE early history of the development
of the national music, like that of
most popular movements in Russia,
has its aspects of oppression and conflict with
authority.^ On the one hand we see a strong
natural impulse moving irresistibly towards ful-
filment ; on the other, a policy of repression
amounting at moments to active persecution.
That the close of the nineteenth century has
witnessed the triumph of Russian music at
home and abroad proves how strong was the
innate capacity of this people, and how deep
their love of this art, since otherwise they could
never have finally overcome every hindrance
to its development. That from primitive times
the Slavs were easily inspired and moved by
music, and that they practised it in very early
phases of their civilisation, their early historians
are all agreed. In the legend of " Sadko, the Rich
Merchant" (one of the by line of the Novgorodian

B

2 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Cycle) the hero, a kind of Russian Orpheus,
who suffers the fate of Jonah, makes the Sea-
king dance to the sound of his gusslee, and only
stays his hand when the wild gyrations of the
marine deity have created such a storm on earth
that all the ships on the ocean above are in
danger of being wrecked. In the " Epic of the
Army of Igor/' when the minstrel Boy an sings,
he draws " the grey wolf over the fields, and the
blue-black eagle from the clouds/' Inj>eace
and war, music was the joy of the^fmmitive
Slavs. In the sixth century the Wends told
the Emperor in Constantinople that music was
their greatest pleasure, and that on their travels
they never carried arms but musical instru-
ments which they made themselves. Pro-
copius, the Byzantine historian, describing a
night attack made by the Greeks, A.D. 592,
upon the camp of the Slavs, says that the latter
were so completely absorbed in the delights of
singing that they had forgotten to take any pre-
cautionary measures, and were oblivious of
the enemy's approach. Early in their history,
the Russian Slavs used a considerable number
of musical instruments : the gusslee, a kind of
horizontal harp, furnished with seven or eight
strings, and the svirel, a reed pipe (chalumet),
being the most primitive. Soon, however, we
read of the goudok, a species of fiddle with
three strings, played with a bow ; the dombra,

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 3

an instrument of the guitar family, the fore-
runner of the now fashionable balalaika, the
strings of which were vibrated with the fingers ;
and the bandoura, or kobza, of the Malo-
Russians, which had from eight to twenty
strings. Among the primitive wind instru-
ments were the sourna, a shrill pipe of Eastern
origin, and the doudka, the bagpipe, or corne-
muse. The drum, the tambourine, and the
cymbals were the instruments of percussion
chiefly in use.

Berezovsky makes a convenient division of
the history of Russian music into four great
periods. The first, within its limits, was purely
national. It included all the most ancient folk-
songs and byline, or metrical legends ; it saw
the rise and fall of the Skomorokhi, the minstrels
who were both the composers and preservers
of these old epics and songs. This period
reached its highest development in the reign
of Vladimir, "The Red Sun/' first Christian
prince of Russia, about A.D. 988. The second
period, which Berezovsky describes as already
falling away from the purely national ideal,
dates from the establishment of Christianity
in Russia, at the close of the tenth century,
when the folk music lost much of its independ-
ence and fell under Byzantine influence. Rus-
sian music entered upon its third period about
the middle of the eighteenth century ; national

4 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

songs now regained some of their former import-
ance, but its progress was checked because the
tastes of Western Europe were already para-
mount in the country. Italian music had
reached the capital and long held the field.
The first twenty years of the nineteenth century
witnessed a passionate revival of interest in
the national music, and when, in 1836, Glinka
created A Life for the Tsar, he inaugurated
a fourth period in the history of national art, the
limits of which have yet to be ultimately defined.
Of the first, the primitive period in Russian
music, there are few records beyond the allusions
to the love of minstrelsy which we find in the
earliest known songs and legends of the Russian
Slavs. When we reach the second period, at
which the national music entered upon a struggle
with the spiritual authorities, we begin to
realise from the intolerance of the clerical
attitude how deeply the art must have already
laid hold upon the spirit of the people. Whether
from a desire to be faithful to oriental asceticism,
and to the austere spirit which animated the
Church during the first centuries which followed
the birth of Christ, or because of the need to
keep a nation so recently converted, and still
so deeply impregnated with paganism, fenced
off from all contaminating influences, the
Church soon waged relentless war upon every
description of profane recreation. The Orthodox

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 5

clergy were not only opposed to music, but to
every form of secular art. Moreover the folk-
songs were of pagan origin ; therefore, just as
the priests of to-day still look askance at the
songs and legends of the Brittany peasants
which perpetuate the memory of heathen cus-
toms, so the Byzantine monks of the eleventh
century, and onwards, denounced the national
songs of Russia as being hostile to the spirit
of Christianity. Songs, dances, and spectacular
amusements were all condemned. Even at
the weddings of the Tsars, as late as the seven-
teenth century, dancing and singing were rigor-
ously excluded, only fanfares of trumpets, with
the music of flutes and drums, and fireworks,
being permitted. Professor Milioukhov, in his
"Sketch for a History of Russian Culture," quotes
one of the austere moralists of mediaeval times
who condemns mirth as a snare of the evil one ;
" laughter does not edify or save us ; on the
contrary it is the ruin of edification. Laughter
displeases the Holy Spirit and drives out
virtue, because it makes men forget death and
eternal punishment. Lord, put mirth away
from me ; give me rather tears and lamenta-
tions." So persistent and effectual was the
repression of all secular enjoyments that one
monkish chronicler was able to remark with
evident satisfaction that, for the time being,
" there was silence in all the land of Russia."

6 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Under these conditions the primitive music
had little chance of development. Driven from
the centres of dawning civilisation, it took
refuge in forest settlements and remote villages.
With it fled the bards and the mummers, the
gleemen — those " merry lads " as the Russians
called them — so dear to the hearts of the people.
These musicians were originally of two classes :
minstrels and gusslee players (harpists), such as
the famous Skald, Bayan ; and the Skomorokhi,
or mummers, who sang and juggled for the
diversion of the people. In course of time we
find allusions to several subdivisions in the
band of Skomorokhi, all of which may now be
said to have their modern equivalents in Russia.
There was the Skomorokh-pievets, or singer of
the mythical or heroic songs, who afterwards
became absorbed into the ranks of the poets
with the rise of a school of poetry at the close
of the sixteenth century ; the Skomorokh-
goudets, who played for dancing, and was after-
wards transformed into the orchestral player,
exchanging his gusslee or dombra for some more
modern western instrument ; the Skomorokh-
plyassoun, the dancer, now incorporated in the
corps-de-ballet ; and the Skomorokh-gloumosslo-
vets, the buffoon or entertainer, who eventually
became merged in the actor.

Monkish persecution could not entirely stamp
out the love of music in the land. To attain

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 7

that end it would have been necessary to uproot
the very soul of the nation. Despite the
fulminations of the clergy, the nobles still
secretly cherished and patronised their singers,
who beguiled the tedium of the long winters
in their poteshni palati. These dependents
of the aristocracy were the first actors known
to the Russians. At the same time such
fanatical teaching could not fail to alter in some
degree the temper of a people wholly uneducated
and prone to superstition. The status of the
minstrels gradually declined. They ceased to
be " welcome guests " in hut and hall, and the
Skomorokhi degenerated into companies of rov-
ing thieves, numbering often from fifty to a
hundred, who compelled the peasants to supply
them with food, as they moved from place to
place, driven onward by their clerical denuncia-
tors. By way of compromise, the gleemen
now appear to have invented a curious class
of song which they called " spiritual," in which
pagan and Christian sentiments were mingled
in a strange and unedifying jumble. The pure
delight of singing having been condemned as a
sin, and practised more or less sub rosa, the
standard of songs became very much cor-
rupted. The degeneracy of music and kindred
forms of recreation was most probably the out-
come of this intolerant persecution. But though
they had helped to bring about this state of affairs,

8 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

there was no doubt something to be said for
the attitude of the clergy, if we may believe the
testimony of western travellers in Russia in
the sixteenth century. The minstrels in the
service of the richer nobles deteriorated as a
class, and claimed their right to give entertain-
ments in towns and villages, which were often
of scandalous coarseness and profanity. The
same may be said of the puppet-shows (Koukol-
nay a teatr), of somewhat later date, the abomin-
able performances of which shocked the traveller
Adam Olearius when he accompanied the ambas-
sador sent by Frederick Duke of Holstein to
the Great Duke of Muscovy in 1634 and 1636.
The long struggle between spiritual authority
and the popular craving for secular recreation
continued until the reign of Alexis Mikhailovich
(1645-1676).

In a measure the Church was successful in
turning the thoughts of the people from worldly
amusements to the spiritual drama enacted
within her doors. During these long dark
centuries, when Russia had neither universities
nor schools, nor any legitimate means of recrea-
tion, the people found a dramatic sensation in
the elaborate and impressive ritual of the Ortho-
dox Church. Patouillet, in his book " Le
Theatre de Mceurs Russes," says : " the icono-
stasis, decorated with paintings, erected between
the altar and the faithful, resembles, with its

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 9

three doors, an antique proscenium. The ' im-
perial ' door, reserved for the officiating priest,
and formerly for the Emperor, recalls by its
name, if not by its destination, the ' royal '
entrance of the Greek theatre. Thus there is, as
it were, a double scene being enacted, one which
takes place before the eyes of the congregation,
the other hidden from them during certain
portions of the ritual, particularly at the moment
of the ' Holy Mysteries ' (the Consecration of
the elements). These alternations of publicity
and mystery ; the celebrant reappearing and
disappearing ; the deacon, who goes in and out
at the side doors and stands upon the Ambon,
like a kind of Aoyeiov, to declare the divine
word to the assembled Christians, dialoguing
sometimes with them, sometimes with the
officiating priest ; the double choir of singers,
arranged even in this day on each side of the
iconostasis, and finally the attitude of the
faithful themselves — rather that of a crowd of
spectators than of participants — all these details
formed a spectacle full of dramatic interest
in times of simple faith."

On certain religious festivals, allegorical repre-
sentations, such as the Washing of the Feet
a^d the Entrance of Christ into Jerusalem,
were enacted in public places. The early
marriage service of the Orthodox Church, with
its pompous religious ceremonial and social

io THE RUSSIAN OPERA

customs, such as the pretended lamentations
of the bride, and the choruses of the young
girls, held distinctly dramatic elements. In
these ecclesiastical ceremonies and social usages
may be traced the first germs of the Russian
drama.

In Western Russia we find the school drama
(Shkolnaya-drama) established in the ecclesi-
astical Academy of Kiev as early as the close
of the fifteenth century. The students used
to recite the events of the Nativity in public
places and illustrate their words by the help
of the Vertep, a kind of portable ret able on which
were arranged figures representing the Birth
of Christ. The Passion of Our Lord was repre-
sented in the same way, and the recital was
interspersed with choral singing, and not in-
frequently with interludes of a secular or comic
nature. This form of drama had found its
way into Russia from Poland. In 1588 Giles
Fletcher, Queen Elizabeth's ambassador to
Russia, gives an account of a representation
in Moscow, which reminds us of the Scoppio
del Carro, the Easter ceremony at Florence,
when a mechanical dove carrying the " Pazzi
fire/' lit from the sacred flint brought back
from the Holy Sepulchre, is set rushing along a
wire from the altar to the car, hung about with
fireworks, which stands outside the great West
Door of the Duomo. When the bird comes in

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA n

contact with the car the pyrotechnical display
is ignited, and if all goes without a hitch the
vintage and harvest will prosper.

Says Fletcher : " The weeke before the
Nativitie of Christ every bishop in his cathedral
church setteth forth a shew of the three children
in the oven.1 Where the Angell is made to
come flying from the roof of the church, with
great admiration of the lookers-on, and many
terrible flashes of fire are made with rosen and
gun-powder by the Chaldeans (as they call
them), that run about the town all the twelve
days, disguised in their plaiers coats, and make
much good sport for the honour of the bishop's
pageant. At the Mosko, the emperour him-
self e and the empress never faile to be at it,
though it be but the same matter plaid every
yeere, without any new invention at all."

Dr. Giles Fletcher was a member of the family
so well-known in the history of English litera-
ture ; he was the uncle of John Fletcher, the
dramatist, and the father of Phineas Fletcher,
the author of the poem "The Purple Island."
How na'ive and almost barbarous must this
Russian mystery play have seemed to the
Englishman who had probably witnessed some
of the innumerable comedies, tragi-comedies,
farces, and tragedies which were then enacted

1 The show refers to a legend of St. Nicholas, Bishop
of Myra, the saint held in most honour by the Russians.

12 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

at home in the universities, the Inns of Court,
and elsewhere ; and who may very likely already
have frequented the theatre in Blackfriars
or Shoreditch, and seen the plays of Marlowe
and Greene, although as yet hardly anything
of Shakespeare !

Ivan the Terrible (1533-1584), who first sent
for printers from Germany and published the
earliest Russian book (containing the Acts of
the Apostles and the Epistles) in 1564, did
nothing towards the secular education of his
Court or of the people. Nor was there much
progress in this respect in the reign of Boris
Godounov (1598-1605). Secular dramatic art
continued to be discouraged by the Church,
without any patronage being accorded to it
in high places until the reign of Alexis Mikhailo-
vich. This prince, who may justly be called
the founder of a national theatre in Russia,
showed a real interest in the fine arts. He
summoned a few musicians to Moscow, who
taught the Russians the use of instruments
hitherto unused by them. This encourage-
ment of music at his Court provoked a final
outburst of clerical intolerance. In 1649, by
order of the Patriarch Joseph, all the musical
instruments in the city of Moscow were confis-
cated and burnt in the open market place.
Those belonging to the Tsar's private band were
spared, perhaps from a fear of offending their

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 13

royal patron, but more probably because their
owners, being Germans, were welcome to go to
perdition in their own way.

When we come to the middle of the seven-
teenth century and the advent of the enlightened
Alexis Mikhailovich, the history of Russian
drama, so closely associated with that of its
opera, assumes a more definite outline. This
prince married Natalia Naryshkin, the adopted
daughter of the Boyard Artamon Matveiev.
Matveiev's wife was of Scottish origin — her
maiden name was Hamilton — so that the out-
look of this household was probably somewhat
cosmopolitan. The Tsaritsa Natalia was early
interested in the theatre ; partly perhaps because
she had heard of it from her adopted parents,
but most probably her taste was stimulated
by witnessing one of the performances which
were given from time to time among the
foreigners in the German quarter of Moscow.
Lord Carlisle, in his " Relation of Three Em-
bassies from His Majesty Charles II. to the
Great Duke of Moscovy," makes mention of one
of these performances in 1664. He says :
" Our Musique-master composed a Handsome
Comedie in Prose, which was acted in our
house."

Travelled nobles and ambassadors also told
of the great enjoyment derived from the theatre
in Western Europe. Likhatchev, who was sent

14 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

to Florence in 1658, wrote with naive enthusiasm
of an opera which he had seen there ; but he
seems to have been more impressed by the scenic
effects, which included a moving sea filled with
fish, and a vanishing palace, than by the music
which accompanied these wonders. Potemkin,
who represented the Tsar at the Court of the
Grand Monarque, saw Moliere's company in
" Amphitryon," in 1668, and doubtless com-
municated his impressions to his sovereign.
But before this date, as early as 1660, Alexis
Mikhailovich had given orders to an English-
man in his service to engage for him " Master
Glassblowers, Master Engravers and Master
Makers of comedies/' It was long, however,
before Russia actually attained to the possession
of this last class of workers. Finally, incited
by his wife's tastes, by the representations of
his more polished nobles, and not a little by
personal inclinations, Alexis issued an Oukaz,
on May I5th, 1672, ordering Count Von-Staden
to recruit in Courland all kinds " of good master
workmen, together with very excellent skilled
trumpeters, and masters who would know how
to organise plays." Unfortunately the reputa-
tion of Russia as a dwelling-place was not attrac-
tive. Doubtless the inhabitants of Eastern
Europe still spoke with bated breath of the
insane cruelties of Ivan the Terrible which
had taken place a hundred years earlier. At

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 15

any rate the Courlanders showed no great
anxiety to take service under the Tsar, and
Staden returned from his mission to Riga and
other towns, in December, 1672, with only
" one trumpeter " and " four musicians." Never-
theless the Oukaz itself is an important landmark
in the cultural evolution of Russia, marking,
according to Tikhonraviev, the end of her long
term of secular isolation as regards the drama.
These five imported musicians formed the nucleus
of what was to expand one day into the orchestra
of the Imperial Opera.

Alexis Mikhailovich was evidently impatient
to see some kind of drama enacted at his Court ;
for in June of the same year, without waiting
for " the masters who would know how to
organise plays/' he determined to celebrate
the birthday of his son Peter — later to be known
as Peter the Great — with a theatrical perform-
ance. The Tsar therefore commissioned Yagan
(otherwise Johann) Gottfried Gregory, one of
the protestant pastors residing in the German
quarter of Moscow, to write a play, or " act " as
it is described in the Tsar's edict, dealing with
the Biblical subject of Esther. As a temporary
theatre, a room was specially arranged at
Preobrajensky, a village on the outskirts of
Moscow which now forms part of the city. Red
and green hangings, carpets and tapestries
of various sorts were lent from the Tsar's

16 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

household to decorate the walls and the seats
of honour ; the bulk of the audience, however,
had to content themselves with bare wooden
benches. The scenery was painted by a Dutch-
man named Peter Inglis, who received the
pompous title of " Master-Perspective-Maker/'
The Boyard Matveiev, the Tsaritsa's adoptive
father, took an active interest in the organisa-
tion of this primitive theatre, and was appointed
about this time, " Director of the Tsar's Enter-
tainments/' being in fact the forerunner of the
later " Intendant " or Director of the Imperial
Opera. Pastor Gregory, aided by one or two
teachers in the German school, wrote the text of
a " tragi-comedy " entitled The Acts of Artaxerxes.
Gregory, who had been educated at the Univer-
sity of Jena, probably selected just such a
subject as he had been accustomed to see pre-
sented in German theatres in his early youth.
Although he had long resided in Moscow he
does not seem to have acquired complete com-
mand of the Russian language, which was
then far from being the subtle and beautiful
medium of expression which it has since become.
The tragi-comedy was written in a strange
mixture of Russian and German, and we read
that he had the assistance of two translators
from the Chancellery of Ambassadors. A com-
pany numbering sixty-four untrained actors
was placed at his service ; they were drawn

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 17

from among the children of foreign residents
and from the better class of tradesfolk. Music
evidently played an important part in the per-
formance ; the orchestra consisting of Germans,
and of servants from Matveiev's household
who played on " organs, viols and other instru-
ments/' The organist of the German church,
Simon Gutovsky, was among the musicians.
A chorus also took part in the play, consisting
of the choir of the Court Chapel, described as
" the Imperial Singing-Deacons/'

The actual performance of The Acts of Aria-
xerxes took place on October I7th, 1672 (O.S.),
and is said to have lasted ten hours, making
demands upon the endurance of the audience
which puts Wagnerian enthusiasts completely
to shame. The Tsar watched the spectacle
with unflagging attention and afterwards
generously rewarded those who had taken part
in the performance. The attitude of the
clergy had so far changed that the Tsar's
chaplain, the Protopope Savinov, undertook
to set at rest his master's last scruples of con-
science by pointing to the example of the Greek
emperors and other potentates.

Gaining courage, and also a growing taste
for this somewhat severe form of recreation,
Alexis went on to establish a more permanent
theatrical company. In the following year
(1673) Pastor Gregory was commanded to

c

i8 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

instruct twenty-six young men, some drawn
from the clerks of the Chancellery of State,
others from the lower orders of the merchants
or tradespeople, who were henceforth to be
known as " the Comedians of His Majesty the
Tsar." At first the audience consisted only
of the favoured intimate circle of the Tsar, and
apparently no ladies were present ; but after
a time the Tsaritsa and the Tsarevnas were
permitted to witness the performance from the
seclusion of a Royal Box protected by a sub-
stantial grille. The theatre was soon trans-
ferred from Preobrajensky to the Poteshny
Dvorets in the Kremlin.

The Acts of Artaxerxes was followed by a series
of pieces, nearly all of a highly edifying nature,
written or arranged by Gregory and others :
Tobias, The Chaste Joseph, Adam and Eve,
Orpheus and Eurydice (with couplets and chor-
uses) and How Judith cut off the head of Holo-
f ernes. The libretto of the last-named play
is still in existence, and gives us some idea
of the patient endurance of primitive theatre-
goers in Russia. It is in seven acts, subdivided
into twenty-nine scenes, with a prologue and an
interlude between the third and fourth acts ;
the characters number sixty-three ; all the
female parts were acted by youths. The libretto
is constructed more or less on the plan of the
German comedies of the period, but what gives

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 19

the piece a special importance in the history
of Russian opera is the fact that it contains
arias and choruses linked with the action of
the piece, such as the Song of the Kings, in
which they bewail their sad fate when taken
captive by Holofernes, a soldier's Drinking Song,
a Love-Song sung by Vagav at Judith's feast,
and a Jewish Song of Victory, the words of
which are paraphrased from Biblical sources.
The author is supposed, without much founda-
tion in fact, to have been Simeon Polotsky,
of whom we shall hear later. The piece was
probably translated from German sources. A
custom was then started, which prevailed for a
considerable time in Russia, of confiding the
translation of plays to the clerks in the Chancel-
lery of the Ambassadors, which department
answered in some measure to our Foreign Office.
The composer of the music is unknown, but
Cheshikin, in his " History of Russian Opera,"
considers himself fully justified in describing
it as the first Russian opera. Two hundred
years later Serov composed a popular opera
on the subject of Judith, an account of which
will be found on page 150.

All the Russian operas of the eighteenth
century follow this style of drama, or comedy,
with some musical numbers interpolated ; it
is the type of opera which is known in Germany
as the Singspiel. As Judith represents the

20 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

prototype of many succeeding Russian operas,
a few details concerning it will not be out of
place here. The work is preserved in manu-
script in the Imperial Public Library. I± is
evident that the dramatic action was strongly
supported by the music ; for instance, to quote
only one scenic direction in the piece, " Seloum
beats the drum and cries aloud," alarm is here
expressed by the aid of trumpets and drums.
The action develops very slowly, and the
heroine does not appear until the fourth act.
In Act I. Nebuchadnezzar and his great men
take counsel about the invasion of Judea ; the
king summons Holofernes and appoints him
leader of his army. In Act II. the sufferings
of the Jews are depicted ; and the embassy
to Holofernes from the Asiatic kings. Act III.
is concerned with the speech which the God-
fearing man Achior delivers in honour of Israel,
hi the presence of Holofernes ; and with the
wrath of the leader who orders the punishment
of Achior. Act IV. contains a conversation
between Judith and her handmaiden Arboya
about the miserable plight of Judea. In Act
V. occurs the Lament of Israel : Judith per-
suades the people not to capitulate to Holo-
fernes and prays God to come to their rescue.
Act VL, Judith's Farewell to the Jewish Elders,
and her departure for the camp of Holofernes ;
she slays Holofernes and the Jews return to

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 21

Bethulia. The whole work concludes with
Israel's Song of Victory. Side by side with
these dramatic scenes are interpolated comic
interludes in the characteristic German style
of the seventeenth century. The language
contains many Germanisms and South Russian
locutions, as though the translator had been a
Malo-Russian. The piece is certainly tedious
and contains much sententious moralising, with
a reflection of sentiment which seems to belong
peculiarly to the Orthodox Church. The pious
tone of the work was indispensable at that
period, and it was not until the Tsar's patronage
of the drama became more assured that Pastor
Gregory ventured on the production of a secular
play founded on a distant echo of Marlowe's
' Tamerlane the Great " (1586), written on the
same lines as Judith, and containing also musical
numbers.

Besides pieces of the nature of the Singspiel,
Patouillet tells us that there were ballets at the
Court of Alexis Mikhailovich. School dramas
were in vogue at the Ecclesiastical Academy
(of Zaikonospasskaya), for which Simeon Polot-
sky, and later on Daniel Touptalo (afterwards
canonised as Saint Dimitri of Rostov), wrote
sacred plays. Polotsky, educated at the Aca-
demy of Kiev, joined the Ecclesiastical School
of Moscow, in 1660, as professor of Latin. He
adapted, or wrote, St. Alexis, Nebuchadnezzar,

22 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

The Golden Calf, and the Three Children who were
not consumed in the Fiery Furnace, and The
Prodigal Son. The last-named play was un-
doubtedly performed before the Court, and was
reprinted in 1685 with a number of plates
showing the costumes of the actors and spec-
tators.

Dimitri of Rostov, who was also a student
at Kiev, composed a series of Mystery Plays
with rhymed verse. The Prodigal Son, by
Simeon Polotsky, says Patouillet, " had inter-
ludes which have not been preserved, and in
Dimitri of Rostov's Nativity, the scene of the
Adoration of the Shepherds was long in favour
on account of a certain naive folk-style of
diction." None of these plays can be claimed
as literature, but they are interesting as marking
the transition from sacred to secular drama,
and in some of them there was a faint reflection
of contemporary manners. But this was not
a spontaneous or popular movement ; it was
merely a Court ordinance. The clerks and
artisans who were trained as actors often took
part in these spectacles against the wish of
their parents, who were only partly reconciled
by the Tsar's example to seeing their sons
adopt what they had long been taught to regard
as a disorderly and irreligious career. Because the
movement had no roots in the life of the people
it could not flourish healthily. When Alexis

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 23

died in 1670, the " Chamber of Comedians "
was closed, Matveiev was exiled, and there was
a reaction in favour of asceticism.

But the impetus had been given, and hence-
forth the drama was never to be entirely banished
from Russian life. Some of the westernised
Boyards now maintained private theatres-
just as their ancestors had maintained the bards
and the companies of Skomorokhi — in which were
played pieces based upon current events or upon
folk legends ; while the School Drama long
continued to be given within the walls of the
Ecclesiastical Academy of Zaikonospasskaya.
Thus the foundations of Russian dramatic art,
including also the first steps towards the opera
and the ballet, were laid before the last decade
of the seventeenth century.

The advent of Peter the Great to the throne
was not on the whole favourable to music. The
fine arts made no special appeal to the utilitarian
mind of this monarch. Music had now ceased
to be regarded as one of the seven deadly sins,
but suffered almost a worse fate, since in the
inrush of novel cosmopolitan ideas and customs
the national songs seem for a time to have been
completely forgotten. With the drama things
advanced more quickly. Peter the Great, who
conceived his mission in life to be the more or
less forcible union of Russia with Western
Europe, realised the importance of the theatre

24 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

as a subordinate means to this end. During
his travels abroad he had observed the influence
exercised by the drama upon the social life
of other countries. In 1697 he was present
at a performance of the ballet " Cupidon," at
Amsterdam, and in Vienna and London he
heard Italian opera, which was just coming
into vogue in this country, and waxed enthusi-
astic over the singing of our prima donna Cross,
During his sojourn in Vienna he took part
himself, attired in the costume of a Friesland
peasant, in a pastoral pageant (Wirthschaft)
given at the Court. Thus the idea of reorganis-
ing the " Comedians' Chamber " founded by
his father was suggested to him. As Alexis
had formerly sent Von-Staden to find foreign
actors for Russia, so Peter now employed a
Slovak, named Splavsky, a captain in the Russian
army, on a similar mission. The Boyard Golo-
vin was also charged with the erection of a
suitable building near to the Kremlin. After
two journeys, Splavsky succeeded in bringing
back to Russia a German troupe collected by an
entrepreneur in Dantzig, Johann Christian Kunst.
At first the actors were as unwilling to come
as were those of a previous generation, having
heard bad accounts of the country from a
certain Scottish adventurer, Gordon, who had
been connected with a puppet-show, and who
seems to have been a bad character and to have

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 25

been punished with the knout for murder.
Finally, in April, 1702, Kunst signed a contract
by which his principal comedians undertook for
the yearly sum of about 4,200 roubles in the
present currency " to make it their duty like
faithful servants to entertain and cheer His
Majesty the Tsar by all sorts of inventions and
diversions, and to this end to keep always
sober, vigilant and in readiness." Kunst 's
company consisted of himself, designated
' Director of the Comedians of His Majesty
the Tsar/' his wife Anna, and seven actors.
Hardly had he settled in Moscow before he
complained that Splavsky had hastened his
departure from Germany before he had had
time or opportunity to engage good comedians
skilled in " singing-plays." The actors played
in German, but a certain number of clerks
in the Chancellery of the Embassies were
sent to Kunst to be taught the repertory in
Russian. It was not until 1703 that the first
public theatre in Russia, a wooden building,
was erected near the Kremlin in Moscow.
Meanwhile the plays were given at the residence
of General Franz Lefort, in the German quarter
of the city. Here, on the occasion of the state
entry of Peter into Moscow, Kunst performed
Alexander and Darius, followed by The
Cruelty of Nero, a comedy in seven acts,
Le Medecin malgre lui, and Mahomet and

26 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Zulima, a comedy interspersed with songs
and dances. The new theatre was a genuine
attempt on the part of the Tsar Peter to bring
this form of entertainment within reach of a
larger public than the privileged circle invited
to witness the plays given at the Court of Alexis.
For the country and period, the installation was
on quite a sumptuous scale. There were seats
at four prices : ten, six, five and three kopecks.
In 1704 there were two performances in the week
which usually lasted about five hours, from
five to ten p.m. Peter the Great gave orders
in 1705 that the pieces should be given alter-
nately in Russian and German, and that at the
performance of the plays " the musicians were
to play on divers instruments." Russians of
all ranks, and foreigners, were bidden to attend
" as they pleased, quite freely, having nothing
to fear/' On the days of performance the gates
leading into the Kremlin, the Kitai-gorod and
the Bieli-gorod were left open till a later hour
in order to facilitate the passage of theatre-
goers. From the outset Kunst demanded
facilities for the mounting of opera, and also
an orchestra. Seven musicians were engaged
by special contract in Hamburg and an agent
was commissioned " to purchase little boys
in Berlin with oboes and pipes." By this time
a few Russian magnates had started private
bands in imitation of those maintained by some

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 27

of the nobility in Germany. Prince Gregory
Oginsky contributed four musicians from his
private band for the royal service in Moscow.
To the director of the musicians from Hamburg,
Sienkhext, twelve Russian singers were handed
over to be taught the oboe. We learn nothing
as to the organisation of a company of singers,
because in all probability, in accordance with
the custom of those days, the actors were also
expected to be singers.

In the comedy of Scipio Africanus, and The
Fall of Sophonisba, The Numidian Queen, an
adaptation from Loenstein's tragedy Sophon-
isba (1666), short airs and other incidental
music formed part of the play. Music also
played a subordinate part in an adaptation of
Cicconini's tragic opera // tradimento per V honor e,
overo il vendicatore pentito (Bologna, 1664), and
in an adaptation of Moliere's Don Juan. These
and other pieces from the repertory of the day
were culled from various European sources,
but almost invariably passed into the Russian
through the intermediary of the German lan-
guage. The work continued to be carried on
in the Chancellery of the Embassies, where
alone could be found men with some knowledge
of foreign tongues. The translations were per-
functory and inaccurate, and there is no literary
vitality whatever in the productions of this
period, unless it is found in the interludes of a

28 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

somewhat coarse humour which found more
favour with the uncultivated public than did the
pieces themselves. Simeon Smirnov was the first
Russian who wrote farcical interludes of this kind,
which were almost as rough and scandalous as
the plays of the Skomorokhi of earlier centuries.
It cannot be proved that in the time of Peter
the' Great an opera in the sense of a drama in
which music preponderated was ever put upon
the stage, but it is an undoubted fact, according
to Cheshikin, that there exists the manuscript
of a libretto for an opera on the subject of
Daphne. It seems to be the echo of what had
taken place in Florence at least a hundred years
previously, when translations of the book of
" Daphne," composed by Caccini and Peri in
1594, gradually made their way into various
parts of Europe. In 1635 we near °f its being
given in Warsaw in the original Italian, and
two or three years later it was translated into
Polish, running through three editions ; from
one of these it was put into Russian early in
the eighteenth century by an anonymous author.
The manuscript of the translation exists in the
Imperial Public Library, under one of the usual
voluminous titles of the period, Daphnis pur-
sued by the love of Apollo is changed into a
laurel bush, or the Act of Apollo and the fair
Daphne; how Apollo conquered the evil snake
Python and was himself overcome by little Cupid.

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 29*

It bears the signature of one Dimitri Ilyinski,
graduate of the Slaviano-Latin Academy of
Moscow, who appears to have been merely the
copyist, not the author, and the date " St. Peters-
burg, 1715." The pupils of this Academy kept
alive for some time the traditions of the
" School Drama " side by side with the official
theatre subsidised by the state. The plays
continued to consist chiefly of Biblical episodes,
and were usually so framed as to be a defence
of the Orthodox Church. They were given
periodically and were bare of all reference to
contemporary life. Side by side with these
we may place the allegorical and panegyrical
plays performed by the medical students of
the great hospital in Moscow. Crude as were
the productions of these two institutions they
represent, however, the more spontaneous move-
ment of the national life rather than the purely
imported literary wares of the official theatre.
Kunst died in 1703, and was succeeded by
Otto Fiirst, whose Russian name was Artemiem.
He was a fair Russian scholar, and in a short
time the company became accustomed to play-
ing in the vernacular. But it cannot be said
that this tentative national theatre was truly
a success. It was a hothouse plant, tended
and kept alive by royal favour, and when the
Tsar removed his Court to St. Petersburg it
gradually failed more and more to hold the

30 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

attention of the public. The theatre in the
Red Square was demolished before 1707. Fiirst's
company, however, continued to give perform-
ances at Preobrajensky, the residence of the
Tsarevna Natalia Alexseievna, youngest sister
of Peter the Great, and later on at the palace of
the Tsaritsa Prascovya Feodorovna at Ismailov.
The private theatre of this palace was never
closed during the life of the widowed Tsaritsa,
who died in 1723. Her eldest daughter, the
Duchess of Mecklenburg, was fond of all sorts
of gaiety ; while her second daughter, the
Duchess of Courland, afterwards the Empress
Anne of Russia, who often visited her mother
at Ismailov, was also a lover of the theatre.
The ladies in waiting joined Fiirst's pupils
in the performance of plays, while the Duchess
of Mecklenburg frequently acted as stage man-
ager. The entrance was free, and although
the places were chiefly reserved for the courtiers,
the public seems to have been admitted some-
what indiscriminately, if we can believe the
account of the page in waiting, Bergholds, who
says that once his tobacco was stolen from his
pocket and that two of his companions com-
plained of losing their silk handkerchiefs.

About 1770 a theatrical company, consisting
entirely of native actors and actresses, was
established in St. Petersburg under the patron-
age of the Tsarevna Natalia Alexseievna, who

THE DAWN OF MUSIC IN RUSSIA 31

herself wrote two plays for them to perform.
This princess did all in her power to second the
efforts of Peter the Great to popularise the
drama. In 1720 the Tsar sent Yagoujinsky
to Vienna to raise a company of actors who could
speak Czech, thinking that they would learn
Russian more quickly than the Germans, but
the mission was not successful. In 1723 a
German company, under the direction of Mann,
visited the new capital and gave performances
in their own tongue. They were patronised
by the Empress Catherine I. At that time
the Duke of Holstein, who afterwards married
the Tsarevna Anne, was visiting St. Peters-
burg, and the Court seem to have frequently
attended the theatre ; but there is no definite
record of Mann's company giving performances
of opera. A new theatre was inaugurated in
St. Petersburg in 1725, the year of Peter the
Great's death.

CHAPTER II

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA

THE history of Russian music enters
upon a new period with the succes-
sion of the Empress Anne. The na-
tional melodies now began to be timidly
cultivated, but the inauguration of a native
school of music was still a very remote prospect,
because the influence of Western Europe was
now becoming paramount in Russian society.
Italian music had just reached the capital, and
there, as in England, it held the field against
all rivals for many years to come.

Soon after her coronation, in 1732, the
pleasure-loving Empress Anne organised private
theatricals in her Winter Palace and wrote to
Bishop Theofane Prokovich, asking him to supply
her with three church singers. The piece given
was a " school drama " entitled The Act of Joseph,
and in its mounting and composition, a famous
pupil of the Slaviano-Latin Academy took part,
Vassily Cyrillovich Trediakovsky, poet and
grammarian, and one of the first creators of the
literary language of Russia. The rest of the actors

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 33

consisted of the singers lent by the Bishop and
of pupils selected from the Cadet Corps, among
them Peter and Carl, sons of Anne's favourite,
Biron. Some of the actors' parts are still in
existence, with descriptions of their costumes,
and details as to the requirements of the
piece, which seem to show that the entire
Biblical story of Joseph was presented, and that
some allegorical personages such as Chastity,
Splendour, Humility, and Envy, were intro-
duced into the play. Splendour was attired
in a red cloth garment, slashed and trimmed
with silver braid ; Chastity was in white with-
out ornaments, crowned with a laurel wreath
and carrying a sheaf of lilies. Besides Jacob,
Joseph, and his Brethren, there were parts
for King Pharaoh and two of his senators, Wise
Men, slaves, attendants, and an executioner,
who, we read, was clad in a short tunic of red
linen and wore a yellow cap with a feather.

These old-fashioned, edifying plays soon bored
the Empress Anne. Italian actors appeared at
the Court and gave amusing comedies, occasion-
ally containing musical interludes. The Empress
employed Trediakovsky to translate the pieces
that were played before her ; for she was no
Italian scholar. The new form of entertain-
ment was so much to her liking that she deter-
mined to establish a permanent Italian company
in St. Petersburg, and was the first to open a

D

34 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

theatre in Russia exclusively for opera. This
brings upon the scene a personality inseparably
linked with the history of Russian opera : Fran-
cersco Araja, who is the first palpable embodiment
of operatic music in Russia, for all his prede-
cessors who composed for the plays of Kunst
and Fiirst have remained anonymous.

Araja was born at Naples in 1700. His first
opera, Berenice, was given at the Court of Tus-
cany in 1730 ; his second, Amore per Regnante,
was produced soon afterwards in Rome. This
seemed to have attracted the attention of the
Russian ambassador to Italy, and in 1735 the
composer was invited to St. Petersburg as director
of the new Italian opera company. The per-
formances took place in the Winter Palace dur-
ing,the winter, and in the summer in the Theatre
of the Summer Garden. It is possible that
Araja's first season opened with a performance
of one of his own works with Russian text.
Trediakovsky's translation of La Forza dell'
Amore e dell' Odio is described as " a drama
for music performed at the New Theatre, by
command of Her Imperial Highness Anna
Johannovna, Autocrat of all the Russias. Pub-
lished in St. Petersburg by the Imperial Academy
of Science." It is not impossible that this
comparatively unimportant work actually led
to Trediakovsky's great literary innovation :
the replacing of syllabic verse by tonic accent.

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 35

It is significant that his book on this subject
came out in the same year, and Cheshikin thinks
that the study of the Italian opera of the
eighteenth century, with its correct versifica-
tion, may have suggested to him the theories
which he sets forth in it. The same opera was
given two years later in Italian under the title
of Abizare. Other operas by Araja given in
the Russian language are Seleucus (1744),
Mithriadates (1747), Eudocia Crowned, or Theo-
dosia II. (1751), and Dido Forsaken, the libretto
by Metastasio (1758) ; the last named was given
in Moscow the following year, and was appar-
ently the first of Araja's works to be heard in
the old capital.

The Empress Elizabeth succeeded her cousin
Anne in 1741, and Araja continued to be Court
Capellmeister. Like Peter the Great, Elizabeth
was anxious to popularise the drama in Russia.
She showed a taste for Gallic art, and established
a company which gave French comedies and
tragedies alternately with Araja's opera com-
pany. Elizabeth urged her ladies in waiting
to attend every performance, and occasionally
announced that the upper classes among the
merchants might be present on certain nights
" provided they were properly dressed/'1

Russian opera made a decided step in advance

1 Gorbounov. "A Sketch for the History of Russian
Opera " (in Russian).

36 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

when in 1751 Araja composed music to a purely
Russian text. The subject, La Clemenza di
Tito, which Mozart subsequently treated in
1791, had nothing in common with the national
life, but the libretto was the work of F. G.
Volkov, and the effect was quite homogeneous,
for all the singers sang in the vernacular instead
of some using the Russian and some the Italian
language as was formerly done. This tasteless
custom did not wholly die out until well into
the nineteenth century, but it became less and
less general. Thus in 1755 we hear of Araja's
Cephalus and Procius being confided entirely
to singers of Russian birth. The book of this
opera was by Soumarakov, based on materials
borrowed from the " Metamorphoses " of Ovid.
The work is said to have been published in 1764,
and is claimed by some to be the earliest piece
of music printed in Russia. J. B. Jurgenson,
head of the famous firm of music publishers in
Moscow, who has diligently collected the Russian
musical publications of the eighteenth century,
states that he has never found any of Araja's
operas printed with music type. The fact that
music was printed in Russia before the reign
of Catherine II. still needs verification. The
scenery of Cephalus was painted by Valeriani,
who bore one of the high sounding titles which
it was customary to bestow at the Court of
Russia — being distinguished as " First Historical

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 37

Painter, Professor of Perspective (scene painting)
and Theatrical Engineer at the Imperial Court
of Russia/1 Among the singers who took
part in the performance were Elizabeth Bielo-
gradsky, daughter of a famous lute player, Count
Razoumovsky, and Gravrilo Martsenkovich,
known as Gravriloushko. The success of the opera
was brilliant, and the Empress presented the
composer with a fine sable coat as a mark of
her gratification. In 1755, Araja, having
amassed considerable wealth, returned to Italy
and spent the remaining years of his life at
Bologna.

Music under the Empress Elizabeth became
a^fashionable craze. Every great landowner
started" his private band or choir. About this
time, the influence of the Empress's favourite,
Razoumovsky, made itself felt in favour of
Russian melodies. By this time, too, a few tal-
ented native musicians had been trained either
in the Court Chapel or in some of the private
orchestras established by the aristocracy ; but
the influx of foreigners into Russia threatened
to swamp the frail craft of native talent which
had just been launched with pride upon the
social sea. The majority of these foreigners
were mediocrities who found it easier to impose
upon the unsophisticated Russians than to make
a living in their own country ; but the names
of Sarti, Paisiello, and Cimarosa stand out as

38 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

glorious exceptions among this crowd of third
and fourth rate composers.

To Feodor Grigorievich Volkov, whose name
has been already mentioned as the author of
the first genuine Russian libretto, has been also
accorded the honour of producing the first
Russian opera boasting some pretensions to the
national style. Volkov was born at Kostroma,
in 1729, the son of a merchant. On his father's
death and his mother's re-marriage his home
was transferred to Yaroslav. Here he received
his early education from a German pastor in the
service of Biron, Duke of Courland, then in
banishment at Yaroslav. During a visit to St.
Petersburg in 1746, Volkov was so captivated
by his first impressions of Italian opera that he
determined to start a theatrical company of
his own in Yaroslav. He gathered together a
few enthusiastic amateurs and began by giving
performances in his own home. The attempt
was so successful that the fame of his enter-
tainments reached the Empress Elisabeth, and
the young actors were summoned to her Court in
1752, where they gave a private performance
of a " comedy " with musical interludes entitled
The Sinner's Repentance, by Dimitri, metropoli-
tan of Rostov. One result of this production was
that the Empress resolved to continue the
education of two members of the company,
one of whom, Ivan Dmitrievsky, became the

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 39

most famous Russian actor of his day. In
1759 Volkov was sent to Moscow to establish
a " Court theatre " there. The festivities with
which the coronation of Catherine II. was
celebrated in the old capital included a sumptu-
ous masquerade entitled Minerva Triumphant,
arranged by Volkov, in which choral music
played a part. While engaged in organising
the procession, Volkov caught a severe chill
from which he never recovered, and died in April
1763. He was an amateur of music and made
use of it in the entertainments which he pro-
duced ; but there seem to be grave doubts
as to whether he was capable of composing
music to the first Russian comic opera, Taniousha
or The Fortunate Meeting, said to have been pro-
duced in November 1756. Gorbounov thinks
it highly improbable that such an opera ever
existed,1 because Volkov's biographer, Rodi-
slavsky, had no better foundation for assuming
its composition and production than some old
handbills belonging to the actor Nossov, which
seem to have existed only in the imagination of
their collector. The assertion that Taniousha
was the first Russian national opera must
therefore be accepted with reserve.

Evstignei Platovich Fomin was born August
5th 1741 (O.S.), in St. Petersburg. He was a

1 Gorbounov. " A Sketch for the History of Russian
Opera."

40 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

pupil of the Imperial Academy of Arts, and in
view of his promising musical talent was sent
to study in Italy, where he entered for a time
the Academy of Music at Bologna, and made
rapid progress. He began his musical career in
Moscow in 1770, but appears to have migrated to
St. Petersburg before the death of Catherine II.
He was commissioned to compose the music
for a libretto from the pen of the Empress her-
self, entitled Boeslavich, the Novgorodian Hero.
Catherine not being quite confident as to Fomin's
powers submitted the score to Martini. The
result appears to have been satisfactory. In
1797 Fomin was employed at the Imperial
Theatres as musical coach and repetiteur ; he
was also expected to teach singing to the younger
artists of both sexes in the Schools, and to
accompany in the orchestra for the French and
Italian operas. For these duties he received
an annual sum of 720 roubles. Fomin died in
St. Petersburg in April, 1800. He wrote a
considerable number of operas, including Aniouta
(1772), the libretto by M. V. Popov ; The Good
Maiden (Dobraya Devka], libretto by Matinsky
(1777) ; Regeneration (Pereiojdenia), (I777)1 ; in
January 1779 his Wizard-Miller (Melnik-Koldoun)
an opera in three acts, the libretto by Ablessimov,
was produced for the first time, and proved one

1 Some authorities believe that the music, as well as
the text of this opera, was written by Matinsky.

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 41

of the most successful operas of the eighteenth
century ; a one-act opera, the book by Niko-
laiev, entitled The Tutor Professor, or Love's
Persuasive Eloquence, was given in Moscow ; and
in 1786 Boeslavich, in five acts, the text by
Catherine II., was mounted at the Hermitage
Palace ; The Wizard, The Fortune Teller and
The Matchmaker, in three acts, dates from 1791.
In 1800 appeared two operas, The Americans,
the libretto by Kloushin, and Chlorida and
Milon, the words of which were furnished by
the well-known writer Kapnist. As far as is
known, Fomin composed ten operas and also
wrote music to a melodrama entitled Orpheus.1
It is probable, however, that Fomin really
produced many more musical works for the
stage, for it has been proved that he occasionally
took an assumed name for fear of his work
proving a failure. Of his voluminous output
only three works need be discussed here.

Aniouta owed some of its success to Popov's
libretto, which was a mild protest against the
feudal aristocracy. The peasant Miron sings in
the first act some naive verses in which he
bewails the hard fate of the peasant ; " Ah,
how tired I am," he says. " Why are we
peasants not nobles ? Then, we might crunch
sugar all day long, lie warm a'top of the stove

1 Karatagyn gives a list of twenty-six operas in the
preface to Jurgenson's edition of The Miller.

42 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

and ride in our carriages/' If we put aside
the idea that Volkov's Taniousha was the first
opera written by a Russian composer, then this
honour must be rendered to Fomin's Aniouta.

Contemporary proof of the immense success
of The Miller (Melnik-Koldouri) is not wanting.
The Dramatic Dictionary for 1787 informs us
that it was played twenty-seven nights running
and that the theatre was always full. Not only
were the Russians pleased with it, but it inter-
ested the foreigners at Court. The most obvious
proof of its popularity may be found in the
numerous inferior imitations which followed in
its wake.

The libretto of The Miller, like that of Aniouta,
was tinged by a cautious liberalism. Here it
is not a peasant, but a peasant proprietor,
who " tills and toils and from the peasants
collects the rent," who plays the principal role.
The part of the Miller was admirably acted by
Kroutitsky (1754-83), who, after the first per-
formance, was called to the Empress's box
and presented with a gold watch. But undoubt-
edly Fomin's music helped the success of the
opera. The work has been reissued with an
interesting preface by P. Karatagyn (Jurgenson,
Moscow), so that it is easily accessible to those
who are interested in the early history of
Russian opera. The music is somewhat ama-
teurish and lacking in technical resource.

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 43

Fomin does not venture upon a chorus, although
there are occasionally couplets with choral
refrains ; lyric follows lyric, and the duets
are really alternating solos with a few phrases
in thirds at the close of the verses. But the
public in Russia in the eighteenth century was
not very critical, and took delight in the novel
sensation of hearing folk-songs on the stage.
In the second act the heroine Aniouta sings a
pretty melody based on a familiar folk-tune
which awakened great enthusiasm among the
audience. The songs and their words stand
so close to the original folk-tunes that no doubt
they carried away all the occupants of the pit
and the cheap places ; while, for the more
exacting portion of the audience, the role of
the Miller was written in the conventional
style of the opera buff a. This judicious com-
bination pleased all tastes.

We find far greater evidences of technical
capacity in Fomin's opera The Americans,
composed some thirteen years later. In the
second act there is a fairly developed love-duet
between Gusman and Zimara; the quartets
and choruses, though brief, are freer and more
expressive ; there is greater variety of modula-
tion, and altogether the work shows some reflec-
tion of Mozart's influence, and faintly fore-
shadows a more modern school to come. The
libretto is extremely naive, the Americans

44 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

being in reality the indigenous inhabitants, the
Red Indians ; but there is nothing in the music
allotted to them which differentiates them from
the Spanish characters in the opera. The
advance, however, in the music as compared
with that of his earlier operas proves that
Fomin must have possessed real and vital
talent. Yet it is by The Miller that he will live
in the memory of the Russian people, thanks
to his use of the folk-tunes. To quote from
Karatagyn's preface to this work : " Fomin
has indisputably the right to be called our first
national composer. Before the production of
The Miller, opera in Russia had been entirely
in the hands of travelling Italian maestri.
Galuppi, Sarti, Paisiello, Cimarosa, Salieri,
Martini, and others ruled despotically over the
Court orchestra and singers. Only Italian music
was allowed to have an existence and Russian
composers could not make their way at all
except under the patronage of the Italians.1'
This sometimes led to tragic results, as in the
case of Berezovsky, whose efforts to free him-
self from "the tutelage of Sarti cost him the
patronage of the great Potemkin and drove
him to a pitch of despair which ended in suicide.
Too much weight, however, must not be attached
to this resentment against the Italian influence,
so loudly expressed in Russia and elsewhere.
The Italians only reigned supreme in the lands

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 45

of their musical conquest so long as there existed
no national composer strong enough to compete
with them. Fomin's success clearly proves
that as soon as a native musician appeared upon
the scene who could give the people of their
own, in a style that was not too elevated for
their immature tastes, he had not to complain
of any lack of enthusiasm.

It is to be regretted that none of his contem-
poraries thought it worth while to write his
biography, but at that time Russian literature
was purely aristocratic, and Fomin, though
somewhat of a hero, was of the people — a serf.

Contemporary history is equally silent as
regards Michael Matinsky, who died in the
second decade of the nineteenth century. He,
too, was a serf, born on the estate of Count
Yagjinsky and sent by his master to study music
in Italy. He composed several operas, the
most successful of which was The Gostinny
Dvor in St. Petersburg, a work that eventually
travelled to Moscow. In his youth Matinsky
is said to have played in Count Razoumovsky's
private band. In addition to his musical
activity he held the post of professor of
geometry in the Smolny Institute in SI.
Petersburg.

Vassily Paskievich was chamber-musician
to the Empress Catherine II. In 1763 he
was engaged, first as violinist, and then as

46 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

composer, at the theatres in St. Petersburg ; he
also conducted the orchestra at the state balls.
Some of his songs, which are sentimental, but
pleasingly national in colour, are still popular
in Russia. He is said to have written seven
operas in all. The first of these, Love brings
Trouble, was produced at the Hermitage Theatre
in 1772. Some years later he was commissioned
to set to music a libretto written by the Empress
Catherine herself. The subject of this opera
is taken from the tale of Tsarevich Feve'i, a
panegyric upon the good son of a Siberian king
who was patriotic and brave — in fact possessed
of all the virtues. In her choice of subject the
Empress seems to have been influenced by her
indulgent affection for her favourite grandchild,
the future Alexander I. Prince Fevei does
nothing to distinguish himself, but most of the
characters in the opera go into ecstasies over
his charms and qualities, and it is obvious that
in this libretto Catherine wished to pay a
flattering compliment to her grandson. There
are moments in the music which must have
appealed to the Russian public, especially an aria
" Ah, thou, my little father," sung in the style
of an old village dame. Other numbers in the
opera have the same rather sickly-sweet flavour
that prevails in Paskievich's songs. The re-
deeming feature of the opera was probably
its Kalmuc element, which must have imparted

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^^:W^j^' :';fc%g

&*

I. A CHURCH SERVIC:
From i6th century canton.

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 47

a certain humour and oriental character to
both words and music. In one place the
text runs something like this : " Among the
Kalmuc folk we eat kaimak, souliak, tourmak,
smoke tabac(co) and drink koumiss," and the
ring of these unfamiliar words may have afforded
some diversion to the audiences of those days.1

But however dull the subject of Feve'i may
appear to modern opera-goers, that of Paskie-
vich's third opera, Fedoul and Her Children,
must surely take the prize for ineptitude even
among Russian operas of the eighteenth century.
Fedoul, a widow, announces to her fifteen grown-
up children her intention of getting married again
to a young widower ; at first the family not
unnaturally grumble at the prospect of a step-
father, but having been scandalised by the
marriage with the prince in the first act, they
solemnly sing his praises in the finale of the last.

In co-operation with Sarti and Canobbio,
Paskievich composed the music to another book
by the Empress Catherine, entitled The Early
Reign of Oleg, produced at the Hermitage
Theatre, St. Petersburg, September, 1794. Pas-
kievich's share of this work seems to have been
the choruses, which give a touch of national
sentiment to the opera. Here he uses themes
that have now become familiar to us in the works

1 A History of Russian Opera (Istoriya Russ. Operi},
Jurgenson, St. Petersburg, 1905.

48 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

of later Russian musicians, such as the Slavsia in
honour of the Tsar, and the Little Russian theme
' The Crane " (Jouravel), which Tchaikovsky
employed in his Second Symphony. The orches-
tral accompaniments sometimes consist of varia-
tions upon the theme, a form much favoured
by Russian musicians of a more modern school.
Other operas by Paskievich are The Two Antons
(1804) and The Miser (1811). Paskievich had
not as strong a talent as Fomin, but we must
give him credit, if not for originating, at least
for carrying still further the use of the folk-
song in Russian opera.

In a book which is intended to give a general
survey of the history of Russian opera to
English readers, it is hardly necessary to enter
into details about such composers as Van] our,
Bulant, Briks, A. Plestcheiev, Nicholas Pomor-
sky, the German, Hermann Raupach, Canobbio,
Kerzelli, Troinni, Staubinger, and other music-
ians, Russian and. foreign, who played more
or less useful minor parts in the musical life of
St. Petersburg and Moscow during the second
half of the eighteenth century.

Three Italians and two Russians, however,
besides those already mentioned, stand out
more prominently from the ranks and deserve
to be mentioned here.

Vincente Martin (Martin y Solar), of Spanish
descent, born about 1754, migrated in his

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 49

boyhood to Italy, where he was known as lo
Spagnulo. He wrote an opera, Iphigenia in
Aulis, for the carnival in Florence in 1781, and
having won some reputation as a composer in
Italy, went to Vienna in 1785. Here his
success was immense, so much so that his opera
Una Cosa Kara was a serious rival to Mozart's
"Nozze di Figaro." A year later Mozart paid
Martin the compliment of introducing a frag-
ment of Una Cosa Rara into the finale of the
second act of " Don Juan." Martin went to
St. Petersburg in z/zSS* at the invitation of the
Italian opera company. During his stay in
Russia eight of his operas were given in the ver-
nacular, including Dianino, an opera d' occasion,
the text by Catherine the Great ; La Cosa Rara,
translated by Dmitrievsky ; Fedoul and her
Children, in which he co-operated with the native
composer Paskievich ; A Village Festival, the
libretto by V. Maikov, and a comic opera in one
act, Good Luke, or Here's my day, the words by
Kobyakov. The fact that he wrote so fre-
quently to Russian texts entitles him to a place
in the history of Russian opera. Martin was
held in great honour in the capital, and the
Emperor Paul I. made him a Privy Councillor.
This did not prevent him, however, from suffer-
ing from the fickleness of fashion, for in 1808
the Italians were replaced by a French opera
company and Martin lost his occupation. He

E

50 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

continued, however, to live in Russia, teaching
at the Smolny monastery and in the aristocratic
families of St. Petersburg, where he died in May,
1810.

Among the foreigners who visited Russia
in the time of Catherine the Great, none was
more distinguished than Guiseppe Sarti. Born
at Faenza in December, 1729, celebrated as a
composer of opera by the time he was twenty-
four, he was appointed in 1753 Director of the
Italian opera, and Court Capellmeister to
Frederick V. of Denmark. He lived in Copen-
hagen, with one interval of three years, until
the summer of 1775, when he returned to Italy
and subsequently became Maestro di Capella
of the cathedral of Milan. Here he spent nine
years of extraordinary activity composing fifteen
operas, besides cantatas, masses and motets.
In 1784 Catherine the Great tempted him to
visit St. Petersburg, and constituted him her
Court-composer. His opera Armida was re-
ceived with great enthusiasm in the Russian
capital in 1786. It was sung in Italian, for it
was not until 1790 that Sarti took part in the
composition of an opera written to a Russian
libretto. This was the Early Rule of Oleg, the
book from the pen of the Empress herself,
in which he co-operated with Paskievich. He
also composed a Te Deum in celebration of
the fall of Ochakov before the army of Potem-

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 51

kin ; this was for double chorus, its triumphal
effect being enhanced by drums and salvos of
artillery ; a procedure which no doubt set a
precedent for Tchaikovsky when he came to write
his occasional Overture " 1812." Many honours
fell to Sard's lot during the eighteen years he
lived in Russia, among others the membership
of the Academy of Science. The intrigues of
the Italian singer Todi obliged him to retire
for a time to a country estate belonging to
Potemkin in the Ukraine ; but he was eventually
reinstated in Catherine's good graces. After
the Empress's death he determined to return
to Italy, but stayed for a time in Berlin, where
he died in 1802.

Giovanni Paesiello (1741-1816) was another
famous Italian whom Catherine invited to St.
Petersburg in 1776, where he remained as " In-
spector of the Italian operas both serious and
buff a " until 1784. Not one of the series of
operas which he wrote during his sojourn in
St. Petersburg was composed to a Russian
libretto or sung in the Russian tongue. His
Barber of Seville, written during the time when
he was living in St. Petersburg, afterwards
became so popular with the Italians that when
Rossini ventured to make use of the same
subject the public regarded it as a kind of
sacrilege. Paesiello's influence on Russian opera
was practically nil.

52 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

The generous offers of Catherine the Great
drew Baldassare Galuppi (1706-1785) to St.
Petersburg in 1765. One can but admire the
spirit of these eighteenth-century Italian musi-
cians— many of them being well advanced in
years — who were willing to leave the sunny
skies of Italy for the " Boreal clime " of St.
Petersburg. Galuppi acted as the Director
of the Imperial Court Chapel for three years,
and was the first foreigner to compose music
to a text in the ecclesiastical Slavonic, and to
introduce the motet (the Russian name for
which is "concert") into the service of the Or-
thodox Church. His operas, II Re Pastore,
Didone, and Iphigenia in Taurida, the last
named being composed expressly for the St.
Petersburg opera, were all given during his
sojourn in the capital, but there is no record
to prove that any one of these works was sung
in Russian.

Maxim Sozontovich Berezovsky1 (1745-1777)
studied at the School of Divinity at Kiev, whence,
having a remarkably fine voice, he passed into
the Imperial Court Chapel. In 1765 he was sent
at the Government expense to study under the
famous Padre Martini at Bologna. His studies
were brilliant, and he returned to St. Peters-

1 He must not be confounded with V. V. Berezovsky,
whose " Russian Music " (Rousskaya Muzyka : Kritiko-
istorichesky Ocherk) appeared in 1898.

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 53

burg full of hope and ambition, only to find
himself unequal to coping with the intrigues
of the Italian musicians at Court. Discouraged
and disappointed, his mind gave way, and he
committed suicide at the age of thirty-two. He
left a few sacred compositions (a capella) which
showed the highest promise. While in Italy
he composed an opera to an Italian libretto
entitled Demofonti which was performed with
success at Bologna and Livorno.

Dmitri Stepanovich Bortniansky, born in
1751, also began his career as a chorister in the
Court Choir, where he attracted the attention
of Galuppi, who considered his talents well worth
cultivation. When Galuppi returned to Italy
in 1768, Bortniansky was permitted to join
him the following year in Venice, where he
remained until 1779. He was then recalled to
Russia and filled various important posts con-
nected with the Imperial Court Choir. He is
now best known as a composer of sacred music,
some of his compositions being still used in the
services of the Orthodox Church. Although
somewhat mellifluous and decidedly Italianised
in feeling, his church music is not lacking in
beauty. He wrote four operas, two to Italian
and two to French texts. The titles of the
Italian operas are as follows : Alcide, Azioni
teatrale postea in musica da Demetrio Bort-
nianski, 1778, in Venezia ; and Quinto Fabio,

54 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

drama per musica rappresentata net ducal teatro
di Modena, il carnavale delV anno 1779. The
French comic opera Le Faucon was composed
for the entertainment of the Tsarevich Paul
Petrovich and his Court at Gatchina (1786) ;
while Le Fils Rival was produced at the private
theatre at Pavlovsk in 1787, also for the Tsare-
vich Paul and his wife Maria Feodorovna.

Throughout the preceding chapters I have
used the word " opera " as a convenient general
term for the works reviewed in them ; but
although a few such works composed by Italians,
or under strong Italian influences, might be
accurately described as melodic opera, the
nearer they approach to this type the less they
contain of the Russian national style. For
the most part, however, these productions of the
eighteenth century were in the nature of vaude-
villes : plays with couplets and other incidental
music inserted, in which, as Cheshikin points
out, the verses were often rather spoken than
sung ; consequently the form was more de-
clamatory than melodic. Serov, in a sweeping
criticism of the music of this period, says
that it was for the most part commissioned
from the pack of needy Italians who hung about
the Court in the various capacities of maitres
d'hotel, wig-makers, costumiers, and confec-
tioners. This, as we have seen, is somewhat
exaggerated, since Italy sent some of her best

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 55

men to the Court of Catherine II. But even
admitting that a large proportion of the musicians
who visited Russia were less than second-
rate, yet beneath this tawdry and superficial
foreign disguise the pulse of national music
beat faintly and irregularly. If some purely
Italian tunes joined to Russian words made
their way into various spheres of society, and
came to be accepted by the unobservant as
genuine national melodies, on the other hand
some true folk-songs found their way into semi-
Italian operas and awoke the popular enthusiasm,
as we have witnessed in the works of Fomin
and Paskievich. In one respect the attitude of
the Russian public in the eighteenth century
towards imported opera differed from our own.
All that was most successful in Western Europe
was brought in course of time to St. Peters-
burg, but a far larger proportion of the foreign
operas were translated into the vernacular
than was the case in this country.

With regard to the location of opera, the first
"opera house " was erected by the Empress
Anne in St. Petersburg, but was not used
exclusively for opera, French plays and other
forms of entertainment being also given there.
The building was burnt down in 1749, and the
theatrical performances were continued tem-
porarily in the Empress's state apartment. A
new, stone-built opera house was opened in St.

56 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Petersburg in 1750, after the accession of the
Empress Elizabeth. It was situated near the
Anichkov Palace. Catherine the Great added
another stone theatre to J:he ^capital^injr^J^
which was known as " The Great Theatre."
After damage from fire it was reconstructed
and reopened in I836.1 Rebuilt again in 1880,
it became the home of the Conservatoire and
the office of the Imperial Musical Society. Be-
sides these buildings, the Hermitage Theatre,
within the walls of the Winter Palace, was
often used in the time of Catherine the Great.
In Moscow the Italian entrepreneur Locatelli
began to solicit the privilege of building a new
theatre in 1750. Six years later he was accorded
the necessary permission, and the building was
opened in January, 1759. But Locatelli was
not very successful, and his tenure only lasted
three years. Titov managed the Moscow theatre
from 1766 to the death of Catherine in 1796.
After this the direction passed into the hands
of Prince Ouroussov, who in association with a
Jew named Medoks2 proceeded to build a new
and luxurious theatre in Petrovsky Street.
Prince Ouroussov soon retired, leaving Medoks
sole manager. The season began with comic
operas such as The Miller by Fomin. In 1805

1 The first performance of Glinka's A Life for the Tsar
took place here in November of that year.

2 Possibly Madox.

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 57

the Petrovsky theatre shared the fate of so
many Russian buildings and was destroyed by
fire.

Alexander I. succeeded the unfortunate Paul
Petrovich, done to death in the Mikhailovsky
Palace during the night of March 23rd, 1801.
With his advent, social sentiment in Russia
began to undergo a complete revolution. The
Napoleonic wars in Western Europe, in which
the Russian troops took part, culminating in the
French invasion of 1812, awoke all the latent
patriotism of the nation. The craze for every-
thing foreign, so marked under the rule of
Catherine II., now gave place to ultra-patriotic
enthusiasm. This reaction, strongly reflected
in the literature of the time, was not without
its influence on musical taste. In Russia,
music and literature have always been closely
allied, and the works of the great poet Poushkin,
of the fabulist Krylov, and the patriotic his-
torian Karamzin, gave a strong impulse and a
new tone to the art. At the same time a wave
of romanticism passed over Russia. This was
partly the echo of Byron's popularity, then at
its height in England and abroad ; and partly
the outcome of the annexation of the old
kingdom of Georgia, in 1801, which turned the
attention of Young Russia to the magic beauty
and glamour of the Caucasus.

There was now much discussion about national

58 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

music, and a great deal was done to encourage
its progress ; but during the first quarter of the
nineteenth century composers had but a super-
ficial idea of the meaning of a national school,
and were satisfied that a Russian subject and a
selection of popular tunes constituted the only
formula necessary for the production of a native
opera.

During his short reign the Emperor Paul had
not contributed to the advancement of music,
but in spite of somewhat unfavourable condi-
tions, an Italian opera company under the
management of Astarito1 visited St. Peters-
burg in 1797. Among their number was a
talented young Italian, Catterino Cavos, whose
name is inseparably connected with the musical
history of Russia. Born at Venice in 1776,
the son of the musical director of the cele-
brated " Fenice " Theatre, it is said that at
fourteen Cavos was the chosen candidate for
the post of organist of St. Mark's Cathedral,
but relinquished his chance in favour of a poor
musician. The story is in accordance with
what we read of his magnanimity in later life.
His gifts were remarkable, and in 1799 he was
appointed Court Capellmeister. In 1803 he
became conductor of the Italian, Russian and
French opera companies. Part of his duties
consisted in composing for all three institutions.
1 Sometimes written Astaritta,

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 59

Light opera and ballet, given by the French
company, was then all the fashion in St. Peters-
burg. Cavos quickly realised the direction and
scope of the public taste, and soon began to
write operas to romantic and legendary subjects
borrowed from Russian history and folk-lore,
and endeavoured to give his music a decided
touch of national colour. In May, 1804, he
made an immense success with his Roussalka
of the Dneiper, in which he had the co-operation
of Davidov. The following year he dispensed
with all assistance and produced a four- act opera
to a Russian text called The Invisible Prince,
which found great favour with the public.
Henceforth, through over thirty years of unrest-
ing creative activity, Cavos continued to work
this popular vein. His operas have practically
all sunk into oblivion, but the catalogue of
their titles is still of some interest to students
of Russian opera, because several of his sub-
jects have since been treated and re- vitalised
by a more recent generation of native com-
posers. His chief works, given chronologically,
are as follows : Ilya the Hew, the libretto by
Krilov (1806) ; The Three Hunchback Brothers
(1808) ; The Cossack Poet (1812) ; The Peasants',
or the Unexpected Meeting (1814) ; Ivan Sousanin
(1815); The Ruins of Babylon (1818) ; Dobrinya
Nikitich (1810) ; and The Bird of Fire (1822)—
the last two in co-operation with Antonolini ;

60 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Smetlana, text by Joukovsky (1822) ; The
Youth of Joan III. (1822) ; The Mountains of
Piedmont, or The Devil's Bridge (1825) ; Miros-
lava, or the Funeral Pyre (1827).

The foregoing list does not include any works
which Cavos wrote to French or Italian texts,
amounting to nearly thirty in all. In Ilya
the Hero Cavos made his first attempt to pro-
duce a national epic opera. Founded on the
Legend of Ilya Mouromets, from the Cycle of
Kiev, the opera is not lacking in spirit, and
evoked great enthusiasm in its day, especi-
ally one martial aria, " Victory, victory, Russian
hero ! " Cavos was fortunate in having secured
as librettist a very capable writer, Prince
Shakovsky, who also supplied the text for Ivan
Sousanin, the most successful of all Cavos's
national operas ; although we shall see in the
next chapter how completely it was supplanted
in the popular favour by Glinka's work dealing
with the same subject.

In the spring of 1840 Cavos's health began
to fail, and he received leave of absence from
his many arduous but lucrative official posts.
He became, however, rapidly much worse and
had to abandon the idea of a journey. He died
in St. Petersburg on April 28th (O.S.). His
loss was deeply felt by the Russian artists, to
whom, unlike many of his Italian predecessors,
he had always shown generous sympathy ;

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 61

they paid him a last tribute of respect by singing
Cherubim's Requiem at his funeral.

The Russian musician Youry Arnold, who was
well acquainted with Cavos in the later years
of his life, describes him at sixty as a robust
and energetic man, who was at his piano by
9 a.m., rehearsing the soloists till i p.m., when
he took the orchestral rehearsals. If by
any chance these ended a little sooner than he
expected, he would occupy himself again with
the soloists. At 5 p.m. he made his report to
the Director of the Imperial Theatres, and then
went home to dine. But he never failed to
appear, at the Opera House punctually at
7 o'clock. On evenings when there was no per-
formance he devoted extra time to his soloists.
He worked thus conscientiously and indefatig-
ably year after year. He was not, however,
indifferent to the pleasures of the table and was
something of a gourmet. Even in the far-
distant north he managed to obtain consign-
ments of his favourite " vino nero." " He told
me more than once," said Arnold, " that
except with tea, he had never in the Whole
course of his life swallowed a mouthful of water :
' Perche cosa snaturalle, insoffribile e noce-
vole ! ' "

Cavos was an admirable and painstaking con-
ductor, and his long regime must have greatly con-
tributed to the discipline and good organisation

62 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

of the opera, both as regards orchestra and
singers. His own works, as might be expected
from a musician whose whole life was spent in
studying the scores of other composers, were
not highly original. He wrote well, and with
knowledge, for the voice, and his orchestration
was adequate for that period, but his music
lacks homogeneity, and reminiscences of Mozart,
Cherubini and Mehul mingle with echoes of
the Russian folk-songs in the pages of his operas.
But the public of his day were on the whole
well satisfied with Russian travesties of Italian
and Viennese vaudevilles. It is true that new
sentiments were beginning to rouse the social
conscience, but the public was still a long way
from desiring idealistic truth, let alone realism,
in its music and literature. In spite of the one
electrical thrill which Glinka administered to
the public in A Life for the Tsar, opera was
destined to be regarded for many years to come
as a pleasing and not too exacting form of
recreation. The libretto of Cavos's Ivan Sous-
anin shows what society demanded from opera
even as late as 1815 ; for here this tragedy
of unquestioning loyalty to an ideal is made
to end quite happily. At the moment when the
Poles were about to slay him in the forest,
Sousanin is rescued by a Russian boyard and
his followers, and the hero, robust and jovial,
lives to moralise over the footlights in the

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 63

following couplets, in which he takes leave of
the audience :

Now let the cruel foe beware,
And tremble all his days ;
But let each loyal Russian heart
Rejoice in songs of praise.

At the same time it must be admitted that
in this opera Cavos sometimes gives an echo
of the genuine national spirit. The types of
Sousanin and his young son Alexis, and of
Masha and her husband, Matthew, are so clearly
outlined, says Cheshikin, that Glinka had only
to give them more relief and finish. The well-
constructed overture, the duet between Masha
and Alexis, and the folk-chorus " Oh, do not
rave wild storm- wind " are all far in advance
of anything to be found in the Russian operas
of the eighteenth century.

Among those who were carried along by the
tide of national feeling which rose steadily in
Russia from 1812 onward was the gifted amateur
Alexis Nicholaevich Verstovsky. Born in 1799,
near Tambov, the son of a country gentleman,
Verstovsky was educated at the Institute of
Engineers, St. Petersburg, where he took piano-
forte lessons from John Field, and later on from
Steibelt. He also learnt some theory from
Brandt and Steiner ; singing from an operatic
artist named Tarquini ; and violin from Bohm
and Maurer. Verstovsky composed his first

64 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

vaudeville at nineteen and its success encouraged
him to continue on the same lines. In 1823 he
was appointed Director ot the Moscow Opera,
where he produced a whole series of operettas
and vaudevilles, many of which were settings
of texts translated from the French. After
a time he became ambitious of writing a serious
opera, and in May 1828, he produced his Pan
Tvardovsky, the libretto by Zagoskin and Aksa-
kov, well known literary men of the day. The
book is founded on an old Polish or Malo-Russian
legend, the hero being a kind of Slavonic Faust.
The music was influenced by Mehul and Weber,
but Verstovsky introduced a gipsy chorus
which in itself won immediate popularity for
the opera. Its success, though brilliant, was
short-lived.

Pan Tvardovsky was followed by Vadim,
or the Twenty Sleeping Maidens, based on a
poem by Joukovsky, but the work is more of
the nature of incidental music to a play than
pure opera.

Askold's Tomb, Verstovsky Js third opera, by
which he attained his greatest fame, will be
discussed separately.

Homesickness (Toska po rodine), the scene
laid in Spain, was a poor work produced for
the benefit night of the famous Russian bass
O. A. Petrov, the precursor of Shaliapin.

The Boundary Hills, or the Waking Dream,

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 65

stands nearest in order of merit to Askold's
Tomb. The scene is laid in mythical times, and
the characters are supernatural beings, such as
Domovoi (the House Spirit), Vodyanoi (the
Water Sprite) and Liessnoi (the Wood Spirit).
The music breathes something of the spirit of
Russian folk-song, and a Slumber Song, a Tri-
umphal March, and a very effectively mounted
Russian Dance, which the composer subse-
quently added to the score, were the favourite
numbers in this opera.

Verstovsky's last opera Gromoboi was based
upon the first part of Joukovsky's poem " The
Twenty Sleeping Maidens/' An oriental dance
(Valakhsky Tanets) from this work was played
at one of the concerts of the Imperial Russian
Musical Society, and Serov speaks of it as being
quite Eastern in colour, original and attractive
as regards melody but poorly harmonised and
orchestrated as compared with the Lezginka
from Glinka's Russian and Liudmilla, the lively
character of the dance being very similar.

A few of the composers mentioned in the
previous chapter were still working in Russia
at the same time as Verstovsky. Of those whose
compositions belong more particularly to the
first forty years of the nineteenth century, the
following are most worthy of notice :

Joseph Antonovich Kozlovsky (1757-1831), of
Polish birth, began life as a soldier in Prince

F

66 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Potemsky's army. The prince's attention hav-
ing been called to the young man's musical
talents, he appointed him director of his private
band in St. Petersburg. Kozlovsky after-
wards entered the orchestra of the Imperial
Opera. He wrote music to Oserov's tragedy
(Edipus in Athens (1804) ; to Fingal (1805),
Deborah, libretto by Shakovsky (1810), (Edipus
Rex (1811), and to Kapnist's translation of
Racine's Esther (1816).

Ludwig Maurer (1789-1878), a famous German
violinist, played in the orchestra at Riga in his
early days, and after touring abroad and in
Russia settled in St. Petersburg about 1820,
where he was appointed leader of the orchestra
at the French theatre in 1835. Ten years later
he returned to Germany and gave many con-
certs in Western Europe ; but in 1851 he went
back to St. Petersburg as Inspector-General of
all the State theatrical orchestras. Maurer is
best known by his instrumental compositions,
especially his Concertos for four violins and
orchestra, but he wrote music for several
popular vaudevilles with Russian text, and co-
operated occasionally with Verstovsky and
Alabiev.

The brothers Alexis and Sergius Titov were
types of the distinguished amateurs who
played such an important part in the musical
life of Russia during the first half of the last

RUSSIAN OPERA PRIOR TO GLINKA 67

century. Alexis (d. 1827) was the father of
that Nicholas Titov often called " the ancestor
of Russian song." He served in the Cavalry
Guards and rose to the rank of Major-General.
An admirable violinist, he was also a voluminous
composer. Stassov gives a list of at least
fourteen operas, melodramas, and other musical
works for the stage, many of which were written
to French words. His younger brother Sergius
(b. 1770) is supposed to have supplied music to
The Forced Marriage, text by Plestcheiev (1789),
La Veillee des Pay sans (1809), Credulity (1812),
and, in co-operation with Bluhm, Christmas
Festivals of Old (1813). It is probable that he
had a hand in the long list of works attributed
to his brother Alexis, and most of the Russian
musical historians seem puzzled to decide how
to apportion to each of the brothers his due share
of creative activity.

A composer belonging to this period is known
by name even beyond the Russian frontiers,
owing to the great popularity of one of his songs,
" The Nightingale." Alexander Alexandrovich
Alabiev was born at Moscow, August 4th, I7871
(O.S.). He entered the military service and,
becoming acquainted with Verstovsky, co-

1 In Grove's Dictionary of Music I give the date of
Alabiev's birth as August 3oth, 1787, following most of
the approved authorities of the day. But more recent
investigations have revealed the correct date as August 4th.

68 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

operated in several of his vaudevilles. For
some breach of discipline Alabiev was exiled
for a time to Tobolsk. Inspired by the success
of Cavos's semi-national operas, Alabiev
attempted a Russian fairy opera entitled A
Moonlight Night or the Domovo'i. The opera
was produced in St. Petersburg and Moscow,
but did not long hold a place in the repertory
of either theatre. He next attempted music
to scenes from Poushkin's poem The Prisoner
in the Caucasus, a naive work in which the
influence of Bellini obscures the faint national
and Eastern colour which the atmosphere of
the work imperatively demands. Alabiev, after
his return from Siberia, settled in Moscow, where
he died February 22nd, 1851 (O.S.).

CHAPTER III

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA

IN the preceding chapters I have shown how
long and persistently Russian society
groped its way towards an ideal expression
of nationalism in music. Gifted foreigners,
such as Cavos, had tried to catch some faint
echo of the folk-song and reproduce it dis-
guised in Italian accents ; talented, but poorly
equipped, Russian musicians had exploited
the music of the people with a certain measure
of success, but without sufficient conviction
or genius to form the solid basis of a national
school. Yet all these strivings and aspira-
tions, these mistaken enthusiasms and imma-
ture presentiments, were not wasted. Possibly
the sacrifice of many talents is needed before
the manifestation of one genius can be ful-
filled. When the yearning after a musical
Messiah had acquired sufficient force, the right
man appeared in the person of Michael Ivano-
vich Glinka. With his advent we reach the
first great climax in the history of Russian
music.

70 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

It is in accordance with the latent mysticism
and the ardour smouldering under the semi-
oriental indolence of the Russian temperament
that so many of their great men — especially
their musicians — seem to have arrived at the
consciousness of their vocation through a kind
of process of conversion. Moussorgsky, Tchai-
kovsky, and Rimsky-Korsakov, to mention
but one or two examples, all awoke suddenly
from a condition of mental sloth or frivolity
to the conviction of their artistic mission ; and
some of them were prepared to sacrifice social
position and an assured livelihood for the sake
of a new, ideal career. Glinka was no exception.
He, too, heard his divine call and followed it.
Lounging in the theatres and concert rooms of
Italy, listening to Italian singers and fancying
himself " deeply moved " by Bellini's operas,
suddenly it flashed upon Glinka, a cultivated
amateur, that this was not what he needed to
stimulate his inspiration. This race, this art,
were alien to him and could never take the place
of his own people. This swift sense of remote-
ness, this sudden change of thought and ideal,
constituted the psychological moment in the
history of Russian music. Glinka's first impulse
was merely to write a better Russian opera than
his predecessors ; but this impulse held the germ
of the whole evolution of the new Russian School
as we know it to-day.

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 71

It is rather remarkable that outside the
Russian language so little has been written about
this germinal genius, who summed up the ardent
desires of many generations and begat a great
school of national music. The following details
of his childhood and early youth are taken from
his Autobiographical Notes and now appear
for the first time in an English translation.

" I was born on June 2nd (May 20th, O.S.),
1804, in the glow of the summer dawn at the
village of Novospasskoi, which belonged to my
father, Ivan Nicolaevich Glinka, a retired army
captain. . . . Shortly after my birth, my mother,
Eugenia Andreievna (nee Glinka), was obliged
to leave my early bringing up to my grand-
mother who, having taken possession of me,
had me transferred to her own room. Here in
company with her, a foster mother, and my
nurse, I spent the first three or four years of
my life, rarely seeing anything of my parents.
I was a child of delicate constitution and of
nervous tendencies. My grandmother was in
her declining years, and almost always ailing,
consequently the temperature of her room in
which I lived was never less than 20 Reaumur.
... In spite of this, I was not allowed to take
off my pelisse, and night and day I was given
tea with cream and quantities of sugar in it,
and also cracknels and fancy bread of all kinds.
I seldom went into the fresh air, and then only

72 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

in hot weather. There is no doubt that this
early upbringing had a great influence on my
physical development and explains my uncon-
querable affection for warm climates. . . .

!< My grandmother spoilt me to an incredible
degree and never denied me anything I wanted.
In spite of this I was a gentle and well-behaved
child, and only indulged in passing fits of
peevishness — as indeed I still do when dis-
turbed at one of my favourite occupations.
One of my chief amusements was to lie flat
on the floor and draw churches and trees with
a bit of chalk. I was piously inclined, and
church ceremonies, especially at the great
festivals, filled me heart and soul with the
liveliest poetic enthusiasm. Having learnt to
read at a remarkably early age, I often moved
my grandmother and her elderly friends to
tears by reading the Scriptures aloud to them.
My musical proclivities showed themselves at
that time in a perfect passion for the sound of
bells ; I drank in these harsh sounds, and soon
learnt how to imitate them rather cleverly by
means of two copper bowls. When I was ill
they used to give me a little hand-bell to keep
me amused.

" On the death of my grandmother, my way
of living underwent some changes. My mother
spoilt me rather less, and tried to accustom me
to the fresh air ; but her efforts in this direction

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 73

were not very successful. . . . My musical sense
still remained undeveloped and crude. In my
eighth year (1812), when we were delivered from
the French invasion, I listened with all my old
delight to the ringing of the bells, distinguishing
the peals of the different churches, and imitating
them on my copper bowls.

" Being entirely surrounded by women, and
having for playmates only my sister, who was a
year younger than myself, and my nurse's little
daughter, I was never like other boys of my
age ; moreover the passion for study, especially
of geography and drawing — and in the latter I
had begun to make sensible progress — drew
me away from childish pastimes, and I was,
from the first, of a quiet and gentle disposition.

" At my father's house we often received many
relatives and guests ; this was usually the case
on his name-day, or when someone came to
stay whom he wished to entertain with special
honours. On these occasions he would send
for the musicians belonging to my maternal
uncle, who lived eight versts away. They often
remained with us for several days, and when
the dances were over and the guests departed,
they used to play all sorts of pieces. I remember
once (it was in 1814, or 1815, when I was about
ten) they played a quartet by Cruselli ; this
music produced in me an inconceivably new
and rapturous effect ; after hearing it I remained

74 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

all day long in a state of feverish excitement,
lost in inexplicably sweet dreamy emotions, and
the next day at my drawing lesson I was
quite absent-minded. My distracted condition
increased as the lesson proceeded, and my
teacher, remarking that I was drawing very
carelessly, scolded me repeatedly, until finally
guessing what was the matter with me, said
that I now thought of nothing but music.
' What's to be done ? ' I answered : ' music is
the soul of me ! '

" In truth at that time I loved music passion-
ately. My uncle's orchestra was the source of
the liveliest delight to me. When they played
dances, such as ecossaises, quadrilles and valses,
I used to snatch up a violin or piccolo and join
in with them, simply alternating between tonic
and dominant. My father was often annoyed
with me because I did not dance, and deserted
our guests ; but at the first opportunity I slipped
back again among the musicians. During
supper they generally played Russian folk-songs
arranged for two flutes, two clarinets, two
horns, and two bassoons ; this poignantly
tender, but for me perfectly satisfactory, com-
bination delighted me (I could hardly endure
shrill sounds, even the lower notes of the horn
when they were not played loud), and perhaps
these songs, heard in my childhood, were the
first cause of my preference in later years for

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 75

Russian folk-melodies. About this time we
had a governess from St. Petersburg called
Barbara Klemmer. She was a girl about
twenty, very tall, strict and exacting. She
taught us Russian, French, German, geography
and music. . . . Although our music lessons,
which included reading from notes and the
rudiments of the piano, were rather mechanical,
yet I made rapid progress with her, and shortly
after she came one of the first violins from my
uncle's band was employed to teach me the
fiddle. Unfortunately he himself did not play
quite in tune and held his bow very stiffly, a bad
habit which he passed on to me.

" Although I loved music almost uncon-
sciously, yet I remember that at that time I pre-
ferred those pieces which were most accessible
to my immature musical intelligence. I enjoyed
the orchestra most of all, and next to the
Russian songs, my favourite items in their
repertory were : the Overtures to ' Ma Xante
Aurore/ by Boieldieu, to ' Lodoi'ska/ by Ro-
dolph Kreutzer, and to ' Les Deux Aveugles,'
by Mehul. The last two I liked playing on the
piano, as well as some of Steibelt's sonatas,
especially ' The Storm/ which I played rather
neatly."

I have quoted verbatim from Glinka's record
of his childish impressions, because they un-
doubtedly influenced his whole after career, and

76 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the nature of his genius was conditioned by
them. Like most of the leading representatives
of Russian music, Glinka was born and spent
the early years of his life in the country, where
he assimilated subconsciously the purer elements
of the national music which had already begun
to be vulgarized, if not completely obliterated,
in the great cities. Saved from the multi-
tudinous distractions of town life, the love of
the folk-music took root in his heart and grew
undisturbed. Had he been brought up in one
of the capitals, taken early, as Russian children
often were, and still are, to the opera and to
concerts, his outlook would have been widened
at the expense of his individuality. Later on,
as we shall see, he was led away from the tracks
of nationality by his enthusiasm for Italian
opera ; but the strong affections of his child-
hood guided him back instinctively to that way
of art in which he could best turn his gifts to
account. It has been said that Glinka remained
always somewhat narrow in his ideas and
activities ; but it was precisely this exclusive-
ness and concentration that could best serve
Russia at the time when he appeared. In his
letters and Autobiographical Notes, lie often
adopts the tone of a genius misunderstood, and
hints that an unkind Providence enjoyed putting
obstacles in his path. It is true that in later
life, after the production of his second opera,

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 77

Russian and Liudmilla, he had some grounds
for complaining of the fickleness and mental
indolence of the Russian public. But his mur-
murings against destiny must be discounted by
the fact that Glinka, the spoilt and delicate
child, grew up into Glinka, the idolised and
hypochondriacal man. On the whole his life
was certainly favourable to his artistic develop-
ment.

Stassov, in his fine monograph upon the
composer, lays stress on this view of Glinka's
career. The history of art, he argues, contains
only too many instances of perverted talent ;
even strongly gifted natures have succumbed
to the ill-judged advice of friends, or to the
mistaken promptings of their own nature, so
that they have wasted valuable years in the
manufacture of works which reached to a
certain standard of academic excellence, and
even beauty, before they realised their true
individual vocation and their supreme powers.
Glinka was fortunate in his parents, who never
actually opposed his inclinations ; and perhaps
he was equally lucky in his teachers, for if they
were not of the very highest class they did not
at any rate interfere with his natural tenden-
cies, nor impose upon him severe restrictions
of routine and method. Another happy cir-
cumstance in his early life, so Stassov thinks,
was his almost wholly feminine environment.

78 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Glinka's temperament was dual ; on the one
hand he possessed a rich imagination, both
receptive and creative, and was capable of
passionate feeling ; in the other side of his
nature we find an element of excessive sensi-
bility, a something rather passive and morbidly
sentimental. Women had power to soothe
and at the same time to stimulate his tempera-
ment. Somewhere in his memoirs, Glinka,
speaking of his early manhood, says : "At that
time I did not care for the society of my own
sex, preferring that of women and girls who
appreciated my musical gifts." Stassov con-
siders that these words might be applied to
the whole of Glinka's life, for he always seemed
most at ease in the company of ladies.

In the autumn of 1817, being then thirteen,
he was sent to the newly opened school for the
sons of the aristocracy, where he remained until
1822. His schooldays appear to have been
happy and profitable. He was industrious and
popular alike with the masters and pupils.
In the drawing class the laborious copying from
the flat, with its tedious cross-hatching and
stippling then in vogue, soon disgusted him.
Mathematics did not greatly interest him.
Dancing and fencing were accomplishments
in which he never shone. But he acquired
languages with a wonderful ease, taking up
Latin, French, German, English and Persian.

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 79

In after years he dropped to some extent
Persian and English, but became proficient in
Italian and Spanish, Geography and zoology
both attracted him. That he loved and observed
nature is evident from all his writings ; and the
one thing in which he resembled other boys
was in his affection for birds, rabbits, and other
pets. While travelling in the Caucasus in
1823 he tamed and kept wild goats, and some-
times had as many as sixteen caged birds in his
room at once, which he would excite to song by
playing the violin.

Glinka's parents spared nothing to give their
son a good general education, but the idea that
they were dealing with a budding musical genius
never occurred to them. As he had shown
some aptitude for the piano and violin in child-
hood, he was allowed to continue both these
studies while at school in St. Petersburg. He
started lessons with the famous Irish composer
and pianist John Field, who, being on the eve
of his departure for Moscow, was obliged to
hand Glinka over to his pupil Obmana. After-
wards he received some instruction from Zeuner,
and eventually worked with Carl Meyer, an
excellent pianist and teacher, with whom he
made rapid progress. At the school concert
in 1822, Glinka was the show pupil and played
Hummers A minor Concerto, Meyer accompany-
ing him on a second piano. With the violin

80 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

he made less progress, although he took lessons
from Bohm, a distinguished master and virtuoso
who had not, however, so Glinka declared, the
gift of imparting his own knowledge to others.
Bohm would sigh over his pupil's faulty bowing
and remark : " Messieu Klinka, fous ne chouerez
chamais du fiolon."

Glinka's repertory at nineteen contained
nothing more profound than the virtuoso music
of Steibelt, Herz, Hummel and Kalkbrenner.
Although Beethoven had already endowed the
world with his entire series of sonatas, and was
then at the zenith of his fame, his music only
began to make headway in Russia some ten
years later. As time went on, Glinka heard
and met most of the great pianists of his day,
and his criticisms of their various styles are
unconventional and interesting, but would lead
us far away from the subject of Russian opera.

Imperfect as his mastery of the violin appears
to have been, it was of more importance to his
subsequent career than his fluency as a pianist,
because during the vacations at home he was
now able to take part in earnest in his uncle's
small orchestra. The band generally visited
the Glinkas' estate once a fortnight, and some-
times stayed a whole week. Before the general
rehearsal, the son of the house would take each
member of the orchestra through his part—
with the exception of the leaders — and see that

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 81

they were all note perfect and played in tune.
In this way he learnt a good deal about
instrumentation and something about the tech-
nique of conducting. Their repertory included
overtures by Cherubini, Mehul, and Mozart ;
and three symphonies, Haydn in B, Mozart
in G minor, and Beethoven's second symphony,
in D major, the last named being Glinka's special
favourite.

In St. Petersburg he began to frequent the
opera, which was not then so exclusively given
over to Italian music as it was a few years later.
Mehul's "Joseph," Cherubini's "Water-Carriers,"
Isouard's " Gioconda " and Boieldieu's " Le
Bonnet Rouge " were among the works which
he heard and admired in the early 'twenties.

In 1824 Glinka entered the Government
service as a clerk in the Ministry of Ways and
Communications. Here he found several ama-
teurs as enthusiastic as himself, and was soon
launched in a social circle where his musical
gifts were greatly appreciated and he ran the
risk of degenerating into a spoilt dilettante.
From the beginning to the end of his career
Glinka remained an amateur in that higher
sense of the word which implies that he merely
wrote what he liked and was exempt from the
necessity of composing to order for the sake of a
livelihood.

He himself has related the circumstances of

G

82 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

his first creative impulse. In the spring of 1822,
when he was about nineteen, he made the
acquaintance of a young lady " of fascinating
appearance, who played the harp and had also
a beautiful voice. This voice was not to be
compared to any musical instrument ; it was
just a resonant silvery soprano, and she sang
naturally and with extraordinary charm. Her
attractive qualities and her kindness to me
(she called me her nephew and I called her aunt)
stirred my heart and my imagination." We
see the rest of the picture : a Petersburg drawing
room with its semi-French decoration, an ami-
able grandpapa reposing in his armchair, while
Glinka played by the hour and the young lady
joined in with her silvery soprano. So the first
compositions were written — " to do her a service
and laid at her feet " — variations upon her
favourite theme from Weigel's " Swiss Family/'
an opera then all the vogue, variations for harp
and piano on a theme by Mozart and an original
Valse in F for piano. Of these only the varia-
tions for harp survive.

At twenty Glinka took singing lessons from
the Italian Belloli. This led to his first essays
in song writing, and after one hopeless failure
he succeeded in setting some words by Bara-
tynsky, " Do not needlessly torment me/'

Henceforth Glinka began to be conscious of
his powers, and between 1825 and ^3° ne was

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 83

constantly composing. Although the best of
relations existed between himself and his father,
he does not seem to have shown him anything
of his deeper artistic nature, and Glinka's
family accepted his music merely as an agreeable
addition to his social qualities. Meanwhile he
wrote many of the songs of his first period, and
a few isolated dramatic scenas with orchestral
accompaniment, including the Chorus on the
Death of a Hero, in C minor, and an Aria for
baritone, a part of which he used in the finale
of the second act of his opera Russian and
Liudmilla. He also learnt Italian and received
some instruction in theory from Zamboni.
In 1829 he published an album containing most
of his early compositions.

From time to time Glinka was incapacitated
by an affection of the eyes, and his general health
was far from satisfactory. He was possessed
of a craving to travel in Spain or Italy, and his
father's refusal to let him go abroad " hurt me,"
he says, " to the point of tears." However,
a famous doctor having examined him, reported
to his father that the young man had " a whole
quadrille of ailments " and ought to be sent
to a warm climate for at least three years.
Glinka left Russia for Italy in 1830, and remained
abroad until the spring of 1834.

During his visit to Italy, Glinka wrote regularly
and fully to his family, but unfortunately the

84 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

correspondence was not deemed worthy of
preservation, and the letters were destroyed
shortly after his return. If we may judge by
the communications to his friends sent later
in life from Spain, France and Germany, the
destruction of these records of his early impres-
sions is a real loss to musical biography.

The two chief objects of Glinka's journey
abroad were to improve his physical condition
and to perfect his musical studies. As regards
his health, he was benefited perhaps but not
cured. " All his life," says Stassov, " Glinka
was a martyr to doctors and remedies," and his
autobiography is full of details concerning his
fainting fits and nervous depression, and his
bodily sufferings in general. He had, however,
sufficient physical and moral strength to work
at times with immense energy.

As regards his musical education, Glinka had
now begun to realise that his technical equip-
ment did not keep pace with his creative impulse.
He felt the need of that theoretical knowledge
which Kirnberg says is to the composer what
wings are to a bird. He was by no means so
completely ignorant of the theory of his art
as many of his critics have insinuated. He
had already composed music which was quite
on a level with much that was popular in his
day, and had won some flattering attentions from
musical society in St. Petersburg. We must

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 85

respect the self-criticism which prompted him to
put himself to school again at six-and-twenty.
But Italy could not give him that deeper and
sounder musical culture of which he was in
search. In Milan he began to work under
Basili, the Director of the Milan Conservatoire,
distinguished for having refused a scholarship
to Verdi because he showed no aptitude for
music. Basili does not seem to have had la
main heureuse with budding genius ; Glinka
found his methods so dry and pedantic that he
soon abandoned his lessons as a waste of time.
Nevertheless Italy, then and now the Mecca
of all aspiring art students, had much to give
to the young Russian. He was deeply impressed
by the beauty of his surroundings, but, from the
practical side, it was in the art of singing and
writing for the voice that Glinka made real
progress during his sojourn in the South. He
had arrived in Italy in company with Ivanov,
who became later on the most famous Russian
operatic tenor. Glinka's father had persuaded
the tenor to accompany his son abroad and had
succeeded in getting him two years leave of
absence from the Imperial Chapel. The opera
season 1830-1831 was unusually brilliant at Milan,
and the two friends heard Grisi, Pasta, Rubini,
Galli and Orlandi. Their greatest experience
came at the end of the season, when Bellini's
" La Sonnambula " was mounted for the first

86 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

time, " Pasta and Rubini singing their very best
in order to uphold their favourite maestro."
" We, in our box," continues Glinka, " shed
torrents of tears — tears of emotion and enthusi-
asm." But still more important to his apprecia-
tion of vocal music was his acquaintance in
Naples with Nozzari and Fodor-Mainville.
Ivanov studied with both masters, and Glinka
was permitted to be present at his lessons.
Nozzari had already retired from the stage, but
his voice was still in its fullest beauty. His
compass was two octaves, from B to B, and his
scale so perfect that Glinka says it could only
be compared to Field's scale upon the piano.
Under the influence of Italian music, he wrote
at this time a few piano pieces and two songs to
Russian words. His setting of Rostov's " Vene-
tian Night " was merely an echo of his surround-
ings ; " The Victor," music to Joukovsky's
words, showed more promise of originality,
and here we find for the first time the use of
the plagal cadence which he employed so
effectively in A Life for the Tsar.

During the third year of his visit, he felt a
conviction that he was moving on the wrong
track, and that there was a certain insincerity
in all that he was attempting. " It cost me some
pains to counterfeit the Italian sentimento
brilliante" he says. "I, a dweller in the
North, felt quite differently (from the children of

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA 87

the sunny South) ; with us, things either
make no impression at all, or they sink deep
into the soul ; it is either a frenzy of joy or
bitter tears." These reflections, joined to an
acute fit of homesickness, led to his decision
to return to Russia. After a few pleasant days
spent in Vienna, he travelled direct to Berlin,
where he hoped to make up some of the defi-
ciencies of his Italian visit with the assistance
of the well-known theorist Siegfried Dehn.

Dehn saw at once that his pupil was gifted
with genius, but impatient of drudgery. He
gave himself the trouble to devise a short cut
to the essentials of musical theory. In five
months he succeeded in giving Glinka a bird's-
eye view of harmony and counterpoint, fugue
and instrumentation ; the whole course being
concentrated into four small exercise books.
" There is no doubt," writes Glinka, " that I
owe more to Dehn than to any of my masters.
He not only put my musical knowledge into
order but also my ideas on art in general, and
after his lessons I no longer groped my way
along, but worked with the full consciousness
of what I was doing."

While studying with Dehn, he still found time
for composition, and it is noticeable that what
he wrote at this time is by no means Germanised
music. Two songs, " The Rustling Oak," words
by Joukovsky, and Delvig's poem, " Say not

88 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

that love has fled/' the Variations for piano
on Alabiev's " Nightingale," and outlines of
the melody for the Orphan's Song " When they
slew my mother/' afterwards used in a Life for
the Tsar, besides a sketch for one of the chief
themes in the overture of the opera, all tend
to prove that he was now deeply preoccupied
with the expression of national sentiment in
music.

In April 1834 his profitable studies with
Dehn were cut short by the death of his father,
which necessitated his immediate return to
Russia. Stassov sums up the results of this
period abroad in the words : " Glinka left us a
dilettante and returned a maestro."

CHAPTER IV

GLINKA'S OPERAS

THE idea of composing a national opera
now began to take definite shape in
Glinka's mind. In the winter of 1834-
1835, the poet Joukovsky was living in the Winter
Palace at St. Petersburg as tutor to the young
Tsarevich, afterwards Alexander II. The
weekly gatherings which he held there were
frequented by Poushkin, Gogol, Odoievsky,
Prince Vyazemsky — in short, by all the higher
intelligentsia of the capital. Here Glinka, the
fame of whose songs sufficed to procure him
the entree to this select society, was always
welcome. When he confided to Joukovsky
his wish to create a purely Russian opera, the
poet took up the idea with ardour and sug-
gested the subject of Ivan Sousanin, which, as
we have seen, had already been treated by
Cavos. At first Joukovsky offered to write
the text of the work and actually supplied verses
for the famous trio in the last act : " Not to
me, unhappy one, the storm wind brought his
last sign." But his many occupations made it

QO THE RUSSIAN OPERA

impossible for him to keep pace with Glinka's
creative activity once his imagination had been
fired. Consequently the libretto had to be
handed over to Baron Rozen, a Russianised
German, secretary to the young Tzarevich.
Rozen could hardly have been a whole-hearted
patriot ; certainly he was no poet. The words
of the opera leave much to be desired, but we
must make allowances for the fact that Glinka,
in his impatience, sometimes expected the
librettist to supply words to ready-made music.
The opera was first called Ivan Sousanin. Among
Glinka's papers was found the original plan for
the work : " Ivan Sousanin, a native tragi-
heroic opera, in five acts or sections. Actors :
Ivan Sousanin (Bass), the chief character ;
Antonida, his daughter (Soprano), tender and
graceful ; Alexis (afterwards Bogdan) Sobinin,
her affianced husband (tenor), a brave man ;
Andrew (afterwards Vanya), an orphan boy of
thirteen or fourteen (alto), a simple-hearted
character/'

While at work upon the opera in 1835, Glinka
married. This, the fulfilment of a long-cher-
ished wish, brought him great happiness. Soon
after his marriage he wrote to his mother, " my
heart is once more hopeful, I can feel and pray,
rejoice and weep — my music is re-awakened ;
I cannot find words to express my gratitude to
Providence for this bliss." In this beatific

GLINKA'S OPERAS 91

state of mind he threw himself into the
completion of his task. During the summer he
took the two acts of the libretto which were then
ready into the country with him. While travel-
ling by carriage he composed the chorus in
5-4 measure : " Spring waters flow o'er the
fields," the idea of which had suddenly occurred
to him. Although a nervous man, he seems to
have been able to work without having recourse
to the strictly guarded padded-room kind of
isolation necessary to so many creative geniuses.
" Every morning," he says in his autobiography,
" I sat at a table in the big sitting-room of our
house at Novospasskoi, which was our favourite
apartment ; my mother, my sister and my wife—
in fact the whole family — were busy there, and
the more they laughed and talked and bustled
about, the quicker my work went." All through
the winter, which was spent in St. Petersburg,
he was busy with the opera. ' The scene where
Sousanin leads the Poles astray in the forest,
I read aloud while composing, and entered so
completely into the situation of my hero that 1
used to feel my hair standing on end and cold
shivers down my back." During Lent, 1836,
a trial rehearsal of the first act was given at the
house of Prince Youssipov, with the assistance
of his private orchestra. Glinka, satisfied with
the results, then made some efforts to -get his
opera put on the stage, but at first he met with

92 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

blank refusals from the Direction of the Imperial
Theatres. His cause was helped by the generous
spirit of Cavos, who refused to see in Glinka
a rival in the sphere of patriotic opera, and was
ready to accept his work. Even then the
Director of the Opera, Gedeonov, demanded
from Glinka a written undertaking not to claim
any fee for the rights of public performance.
Glinka, who was not dependent upon music for
a livelihood, submitted to this injustice. The
rehearsals were then begun under the super-
vision of Cavos. The Emperor Nicholas I.
attended one of the rehearsals at the great
Opera House and expressed his satisfaction,
and also his willingness to accept the dedication
of the opera. It was then that it received the
title by which it has since become famous,
Glinka having previously changed the name
of Ivan Sousanin to that of Death for the
Tsar.

The first performance took place on November
27th (O.S.), 1836, in the presence of the Emperor
and the Court. " The first act was well
received," wrote Glinka, " the trio being loudly
and heartily applauded. The first scene in
which the Poles appear (a ballroom in Warsaw)
was passed over in complete silence, and I went
on the stage deeply wounded by the attitude
of the public." It seems, however, that the
silence of the audience proceeded from a certain

GLINKA'S OPERAS 93

timidity as to how they ought to receive the
appearance of these magnificent, swaggering
Poles in the presence of the Emperor, the
Polish insurrection of 1830-1831 being still pain-
fully fresh in the public memory. The rest
of the opera was performed amid a scene of
unparalleled enthusiasm. The acting of the
Russian chorus seems to have been even more
realistic in those days than it is now. " In the
fourth act/' to quote the composer himself,
" the representatives of the Polish soldiers in the
scene in the forest, fell upon Petrov (the famous
bass who created the part of Sousanin) with such
fury that they broke his arm, and he was
obliged to defend himself from their attacks
in good earnest/ ' After the performance, Glinka
was summoned to the Emperor's box to receive
his compliments, and soon afterwards he was
presented with a ring, worth 4,000 roubles, and
offered the post of Capellmeister to the Imperial
Chapel.

Some account of the story of A Life for the
Tsar will be of interest to those who have not
yet seen the opera, for the passionate idealism
of the subject still appeals to every patriotic
Russian. The action takes place at one of the
most stirring periods of Russian history, the
Russo-Polish war of 1633, Jus^ after the boy-
king Michael Feodorovieh — first of the present
Romanov line — had been elected to the throne.

94 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Glinka himself sketched out the plot, which
runs as follows : The Poles, who have been
supporting the claims of their own candidate
for the Russian throne, form a conspiracy
against the life of the young Romanov. A
Polish army corps is despatched to Moscow,
ostensibly on a peaceful embassy, but in reality
to carry out this sinister design. On the march,
they enter the hut of a loyal peasant, Ivan
Sousanin, and compel his services as a guide.
Sousanin, who suspects their treachery, forms
a heroic resolve. He secretly sends his adopted
son, the orphan Vanya, to warn the Tsar of his
danger ; while, in order to gain time, he misleads
the Poles in the depths of the forest and falls
a victim to their vengeance when they dis-
cover the trick which has been played upon
them.

Whether the story be true or not — and modern
historians deny its authenticity1 — Ivan Sou-
sanin will always remain the typical embodiment
of the loyalty of the Russian peasant to his
Tsar, a sentiment which has hitherto resisted
most of the agitations which have affected
the upper and middle classes of Russian
society.

The music of A Life for the Tsar was an

1 Soloveiv asserts that Sousanin did not save the Tsar
from the Poles but from the Russian Cossacks who had
become demoralised during the long interregnum.

GLINKA'S OPERAS 95

immense advance on anything that had been
previously attempted by a Russian composer.
Already the overture — though not one of Glinka's
best symphonic efforts — shows many novel
orchestral effects, which grew out of the funda-
mental material of his music, the folk-songs
of Great Russia. Generally speaking, his ten-
dency is to keep his orchestra within modest
limits. Although he knew something of the
orchestration of Berlioz, it is Beethoven rather
than the French musician that Glinka takes
as his model. " I do not care," he says, " to
make use of every luxury." Under this cate-
gory he places trombones, double bassoons,
bass drum, English horn, piccolo and even the
harp. To the wind instruments he applies the
term " orchestral colour," while he speaks of
the strings as " orchestral motion." With re-
gard to the strings, he thought that " the more
these instruments interlace their parts, the
nearer they approach to their natural character
and the better they fulfil their part in the
orchestra." It is remarkable that Glinka usu-
ally gives free play to the various individual
groups of instruments, and that his orchestra-
tion is far less conventional and limited than
that of most operatic composers of his time.
The thematic material of A Life for the Tsar is
partly drawn from national sources, not so
much directly, as modelled on the folk-song

96 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

pattern. The crude folk-stuff is treated in a
very different way to that which prevailed in
the early national operas. Glinka does not
interpolate a whole popular song — often har-
monised in a very ordinary manner — into his
opera, in the naive style of Fomin in his Aniouta
or The Miller. With Glinka the material
passes through the melting pot of his genius,
and flows out again in the form of a plastic na-
tional idiom with which, as he himself expresses
it, " his fellow-countrymen could not fail to
feel completely at home." Here are one or
two instances in which the folk-song element is
recognisable in A Life for the Tsar. In the first
act, where Sousanin in his recitative says it is
no time to be dreaming of marriage feasts,
occurs a phrase which Glinka overheard sung
by a cab-driver1 ; the familiar folk-song " Down
by Mother Volga," disguised in binary rhythm,
serves as accompaniment to Sousanin's words
in the forest scene " I give ye answer," and
' Thither have I led ye," where its gloomy
character is in keeping with the situation ;
the recitative sung by Sobinin in the first act,
" Greeting, Mother Moscow," is also based upon
a folk-tune. But Glinka has also melodies of

1 This fragment of a familiar melody drew down on
Glinka the criticism of an aristocratic amateur that the
music of A Life for the Tsar was fit for coachmen and serfs,
and piovoked Glinka's sarcastic retort : " What matter,
since the servants are better than their masters."

GLINKA'S OPERAS 97

his own invention which are profoundly national
in character. As Alfred Bruneau remarks : " By
means of a harmony or a simple orchestral
touch he can give to an air which is apparently
as Italian as possible a penetrating perfume of
Russian nationality." An example of this is
to be found in Antonida's aria " I gaze upon the
empty fields " (Act I). The treatment of his
themes is also in accordance with national
tradition ; thus in the patriotic chorus in the first
Act, " In the storm and threatening tempest/'
we have an introduction for male chorus, led
by a precentor (Zapievets), a special feature of
the folk-singing of Great Russia. Another
chorus has a pizzicato accompaniment in imita-
tion of the national instrument, the Balalaika,
to the tone of which we have grown fairly
familiar in England during the last few years.
Many of Glinka's themes are built upon the
mediaeval church modes which lie at the
foundation of the majority of the national
songs.

For instance, the Peasants' chorus, " We
go to our work in the woods," is written in
the hypo-dorian mode ; the Song of the Rowers
is in the ^Eolian mode, which is identical with
" the natural minor," which was the favourite
tonality of Glinka's predecessors. The strange
beauty of the Slavsia lies in the use of the
mixolydian mode, and its simple harmonisation.

H

93 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

The introduction to the opera is treated con-
trapuntally, in the style of the folk-singing with
its cantus firmus (zapievkoya) and its imitations
(podgolossky) .

Glinka wrote the role of Sousanin for a bass.
He has, indeed, been reproached with giving
preference for the bass at the expense of the
tenor parts, and other Russian composers have
followed his example. But when we bear
in mind that Russia produces some of the most
wonderful bass voices in the world the prefer-
ence seems natural enough, and even assumes
a certain national significance. Upon Sousanin's
part centres the chief interest of the opera
and it is convincingly realised and consistently
Russian throughout. His opening phrases, in
the Phrygian mode, seem to delineate his
individuality in a few clear broad touches.
Serov is disposed to claim for Glinka the definite
and conscious use of a leitmotif which closely
knits the patriotism of his hero with the per-
sonality of the Tsar. Towards the close of the
first act, Sousanin sings a phrase to the words
taken from the old Russian Slavsia or Song of
Glory. Making a careful analysis of the score,
Serov asserts that traces of this motive may be
found in many of Sousanin's recitatives and
arias, tending to the fusion of the musical and
poetical ideas. Serov, an enthusiastic Wagnerian
student, seems to see leitmotifs in most unsus-

GLINKA'S OPERAS 99

pected places and is inclined, we think, to
exaggerate their presence in A Life for the Tsar.
But there are certainly moments in the opera
in which Glinka seems to have recourse con-
sciously to this phrase of the Slavsia as befitting
the dramatic situation. Thus in the quartet
in the third act, " God love the Tsar," the melody
of the Slavsia may be recognised in the har-
monic progression of the instrumental basses
given in 3-4 instead of 4-4 ; the treatment
here is interesting, because, as Cheshikin
points out, it is in the antiphonal style of
the Orthodox Church, the vocal quartets
singing " God love the Tsar," while the string
quartet replies with " Glory, glory, our Russian
Tsar." Again in another solemn moment in
the opera the phrase from the Slavsia stands
out still more clearly. When the Poles com-
mand Sousanin to lead them instantly to
the Tsar's abode, the hero answers in words
which rise far above the ordinary level of
the libretto :

" O high and bright our Tsar's abode,
Protected by the power of God,
All Russia guards it day and night,
While on its walls, in raiment white,
The angels, heaven's winged sentries, wait
To keep all traitors from the gate."

These words are sung by Sousanin to a
majestic cantilena in a flowing 6-4 measure,

ioo THE RUSSIAN OPERA

while the orchestra accompany in march
rhythm with the Slavsia, which, in spite of
being somewhat veiled by the change of rhythm
and the vocal melody, may be quite easily
identified.

Two great scenes are allotted to Sousanin.
The first occurs when the Poles insist on his
acting as their guide and he resolves to lay down
his life for the Tsar. Here the orchestra plays
an important part, suggesting the agitations
which rend the soul of the hero ; now it reflects
his super- human courage, and again those inevit-
able, but passing, fears and regrets without which
his deed would lose half its heroism. The
alternating rhythms — Sousanin sings in 2-4
and the Poles 3-4 — are effectively managed.
Sousanin's second great moment occurs when
the Poles, worn out with hunger and fatigue,
fall asleep round their camp fire and the peasant-
hero, watching for the tardy winter sunrise
which will bring death to him and safety to
the young Tsar, sings in a mood of intense
exaltation the aria " Thou comest Dawn,
for the last time mine eyes shall look on
thee ! " a touching and natural outburst of
emotion that never fails to stir a Russian
audience to its emotional depths, although some
of the national composers have since reached
higher levels, judged from a purely musical
standpoint.

GLINKA'S OPERAS 101

In A Life for the Tsar Glinka conceived the
idea, interesting in itself, of contrasting the
characters of the two nations by means of their
national music. To this end he devotes the
whole of the second act entirely to the Poles.
Here it seems to me that he is far less successful
than with any other portion of the work. Some
critics have supposed that the composer really
wished to give an impression of the Poles as a
superficial people literally dancing and revelling
through life, and possessed of no deeper feelings
to be expressed in music. But Glinka was too
intelligent a man to take such naive views of
national character. It seems more probable
that not being supersaturated with Polish as
he was with Russian folk-music, he found it
difficult to indicate the personality of the
Pole in anything but conventional dance
rhythms. This passes well enough in the second
act, where the scene is laid at a brilliant festival
in the Polish capital, and the ballroom dances
which follow constitute the ballet of the opera.
But in other parts of the work, as, for instance,
when the Polish soldiers burst into Sousanin's
cottage and order him to act as their guide, the
strains of a stately polonaise seem distinctly
out of place ; and again, when they have lost
their way in the forest and their situation is
extremely precarious, they express their alarm
and suspicion in mazurka rhythm. The polo-

102 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

naise, cracoviak, the valse in 6-8 time and
the mazurka and finale which form the ballet are
somewhat ordinary in character, but presented
with a charm and piquancy of orchestration
which has made them extremely popular.
The representative theme of the Poles, a
phrase from the polonaise, hardly suggests the
part they play in the opera — their evil designs
upon Moscow and the young Michael Feodorovich,
about which they sing in the succeeding chorus.
But others seem to find this music more im-
pressive, for, says M. Camille Bellaigue, " even
when restricted to strictly national forms
and formulas, the Russian genius has a tendency
to enlarge them. In the polonaise and especi-
ally in the sombre and sinister mazurka in A
Life for the Tsar Glinka obtains from local
rhythms an intimate dramatic emotion. . . .
He raises and generalises, and from the music
of a race makes the music of humanity."

In the last act of A Life for the Tsar Glinka
has concentrated the ardent patriotism and the
profound human sympathy which is not only a
feature of his music but common to the whole
school of which he is the prototype. The
curtain rises upon a street in Moscow, the people
are hurrying to the Kremlin to acclaim the young
Tsar, and as they go they sing that beautiful
hymn-march " Glory, glory, Holy Russia/' a
superb representation of the patriotic ideal.

GLINKA'S OPERAS 103

In contrast to the gladness of the crowd, Glinka
shows us the unfortunate children of Ivan
Sousanin, the lad Vanya, Antonida, and her
betrothed, Sobinin. Some of the people stop to
ask the cause of their sadness, and in reply they
sing the touching trio which describes the fate
of Sousanin. Then the scene changes to the
Red Square under the walls of the Kremlin, and
all individual- sentiment is merged in a flood
of loftier emotion. The close of the act is the
apotheosis of the Tsar and of the spirit of loyalty.
Here on the threshold of the Kremlin Michael
Feodorovich pauses to salute the dead body of
the peasant-hero. Once again the great crowd
takes up the Slavsia or Glory motive, and amid
the pealing of the bells the opera ends with a
triumphant chorus which seems to sum up the
whole character of the Russian people. " Every
element of national beauty, " says M. Camille
Bellaigue/' is pressed into the service here. The
people, their ruler and God himself are present.
Not one degree in all the sacred hierarchy
is lacking ; not one feature of the ideal,
not one ray from the apotheosis of the father-
land/^

With all its weaknesses and its occasional
lapses into Italian phraseology, A Life for the
Tsar still remains a patriotic and popular opera,
comparable only in these respects with some of
the later works which it engendered, or, among

104 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

contemporary operas, with Weber's Der Frei-
schutz.

With the unparalleled success of A Life for
the Tsar, Glinka reached the meridian of his
fame and power. He^ followed up the opera
by some of his finest songs, contained in the
collection entitled " Farewell to St. Peters-
burg/' and by the beautiful incidental music
to Koukolnik's tragedy Prince Kholmsky, of
which Tchaikovsky, by no means an indulgent
critic of his great predecessor, says : " Glinka
here shows himself to be one of the greatest
symphonic composers of his day. Many touches
in Prince Kholmsky recall the brush of Beet-
hoven. There is the same moderation in the
means employed, and in the total absence of
all striving after mere external effects ; the
same sober beauty and clear exposition of ideas
that are not laboured but inspired ; the same
plasticity of form and mould. Finally there
is the same inimitable instrumentation, so
remote from all that is affected or far-fetched.
. . . Every entr'acte which follows the over-
ture is a little picture drawn by a master-hand.
These are symphonic marvels which would
suffice a second-rate composer for a whole
series of long symphonies. "

The idea of a second national opera began to
occupy Glinka's mind very soon after the pro-
duction of A Life for the Tsar. It was his

GLINKA'S OPERAS 105

intention to ask Poushkin to furnish him with a
libretto based upon his epic poem " Russian
and Liudmilla.'' The co-operation of Russia's
greatest poet with her leading musical genius
should have been productive of great results.
Unhappily the plan was frustrated by the tragic
death of Poushkin, who was shot in a duel in 1837.
Glinka, however, did not renounce the subject
to which he had been attracted, and sketched
out the plot and even some musical numbers,
falling as before into the fatal mistake of expect-
ing his librettist to supply words to music
already written. The text for Russian and
Liudmilla was supplied by Bakhtourin, but
several of Glinka's friends added a brick here
and there to the structure, with very patchy
results. The introduction and finale were
sketched out in 1839, but the composer, partly
on account of failing health, did not work
steadily at the opera until the winter of 1841.
The score was actually completed by April
1842, when he submitted it on approval to
Gedeonov. This time Glinka met with no
difficulties from the Director of the Imperial
Opera; the work was accepted at once and the
date of the first production fixed in the follow-
ing November.

The subject of Russian and Liudmilla, though
equally national, has not the poignant human
interest that thrills us in A Life for the Tsar.

io6 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

The story belongs to a remote and legendary
period in Russian history, and the characters
are to a great extent fantastic and mythical.
It had none of those qualities which in the first
opera made for an immediate popular success
in every stratum of Russian society. The days
are now long past when the musical world of
Russia was split into two hostile camps, the
one led by Serov, who pronounced Russian to
be the last aberration of a lamentably warped
genius ; the other by Stassov, who saw in it the
mature expression of Glinka's inspiration. At
the same time Stassov was quite alive to the
weaknesses and impossible scenic moments of the
libretto, faults which are doubtless the reason
why seventy years have not sufficed to win
popularity for the work, although the lapse
of time has strengthened the conviction of all
students of Russian opera as to the actual
musical superiority of Russian and Liudmilla
over A Life for the Tsar.

The story of the opera runs as follows :
In days of old — when the Slavs were still
Pagans — Prince Svietozar of Kiev had one
beautiful daughter, Liudmilla. The maiden had
three suitors, the knights- err ant Russian and
Farlaf, and the young Tatar prince, Ratmir.
Liudmilla's love was bestowed upon Russian,
and Prince Svietozar prepares to celebrate
their marriage. Meanwhile the wicked wizard

GLINKA'S OPERAS 107

Chernomor has fallen desperately in love with
Liudmilla. At the wedding feast he carries off
the bride by means of his magic arts. Prince
Svietozar sends the three knights to rescue
his daughter and promises to give her to the
one who succeeds in the quest. The knights
meet with many adventures by the way. Far-
laf seeks the help of the sorceress Naina, who
agrees to save him from the rivalry of Ratmir,
by luring the ardent young Oriental aside from
his quest. Russian takes council with the
benevolent wizard Finn, who tells him how to
acquire a magic sword with which to deliver
his bride from the hands of Chernomor. Russ-
ian saves Liudmilla, but on their homeward
journey to Kiev they are intercepted by Farlaf,
who casts them both into a magic slumber.
Leaving Russian by the wayside, Farlaf
carries the heroine back to her father's house,
where he passes himself off as her deliverer
and claims her for his bride. Russian awakes
and arrives in time to denounce his treachery,
and the opera ends with the marriage of the
true lovers, which was interrupted in the first
act.

The overture to Russian and Liudmilla is a
solid piece of work, sketched on broad lines
and having a fantastic colouring quite in keeping
with the subject of the opera. The opening
subject is national in character, being divided

io8 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

into two strains which lend themselves to con-
trapuntal treatment.

An introduction follows, consisting of a chorus
and two solos for Bayan (tenor), the famous
bard of old, who is supposed to relate the
legend. This introduction is largely built upon
a phrase of eight notes, the characteristic utter-
ance of Bayan when he speaks of the " deeds
of long ago/1 Afterwards this phrase is repeated
in the Dorian mode, and the music acquires an
archaic character in conformity with the remote
period of the action.

The opera itself may be said to begin with a
wedding chorus, followed by a cavatina for
Liudmilla in which she takes leave of her father.
In writing for his primadonne Glinka seems to
have found it difficult to avoid the conventional
Italian influence, and this solo, in common with
most of the music for Liudmilla, lacks vigour
and originality. Far more interesting from the
musical point of view is the chorus in 5-4
measure, an invocation to Lei, the Slavonic God
of Love. At the close of this number a loud
clap of thunder is heard and the scene is plunged
in darkness, during which the wizard Chernomor
carries away the bride. The consternation of
the guests is cleverly depicted over a pedal point
for horn on E flat which extends for a hundred
and fifty bars. Prince Svietozar then bids the
knights-errant to go in search of his daughter,

GLINKA'S OPERAS

109

and with a short chorus imploring the aid of
Perun upon their quest the act comes to an end.

The orchestral prelude to the second act is
based upon a broad impetuous theme which
afterwards appears as the motive of the Giant's
head in Act III. The first scene represents a
hilly region and the cave of the good wizard
Finn. The character of Finn, half humorous and
half pathetic, with its peculiar combination of
benevolence, vacillation, and pessimistic regret,
is essentially Russian. Such characters have
been made typical in the novels of Tourgeniev
and Tolstoy. Finn relates how, in a vain endea-
vour to win Naina the sorceress, he has changed
himself into a shepherd, a fisherman, and a
warrior, and finally into a wizard. In this
last character he has succeeded in touching her
heart. But now alas, they have awakened to
the realisation that there is nothing left to them
but regret for lost possibilities fled beyond recall.
Glinka expresses all these psychological changes
in Finn's famous Ballade which forms the open-
ing number of this act ; but admirable as it is,
critics have some ground for their reproach
that its great length delays the action of the
plot. Russian, having listened to Finn's love-
story, receives from him the sword with
which he is to attack the Giant's Head. In
the next scene Farlaf meets the elderly but
once beautiful Naina, and the two sing a

no THE RUSSIAN OPERA

humorous duet. Farlaf's chief air, a rondo
in opera-bouffe style, is rather ordinary, but
Kama's music is a successful piece of character-
painting. The last scene of the second act is
one of the most fantastic in this fantastic
opera. The stage is enveloped in mist. Russian
enters and sings his aria, of which the opening
recitative is the strongest part, the Allegro
section, which Glinka has written in sonata-
form, being somewhat diffuse. While he is sing-
ing, the mist slowly disperses, and the rising moon
reveals the lonely steppe and shines upon the
bleached bones which strew an ancient battle-
field. Russian now sees with horror the appari-
tion of the Giant's Head. This in its turn sees
Russian, and threatens the audacious knight
who has ventured upon the haunted field. But
Russian overcomes the monster head with the
magic sword, as directed by Finn. In order
to give weight to the Giant's voice Glinka has
supplemented the part by a small male chorus
which sings from within the head.

The prelude to the third act is generally
omitted, and is not in fact printed in the piano-
forte score of the opera. The opening number,
a Persian chorus for female voices, " The Night
lies heavy on the fields," is full of grace and
oriental languor. The subject of the chorus
is a genuine Persian melody and the variations
which form the accompaniment add greatly

GLINKA'S OPERAS HI

to the beauty of these pages. The chorus is
followed by an aria for Gorislava (soprano),
Ratmir's former love, whom he has deserted
for Liudmilla. This air with its clarinet obbli-
gato is one of the most popular solos in the
opera. In answer to Gorislava's appeal, Ratmir
appears upon the scene and sings a charming
nocturne accompanied by cor anglais. The
part of the young oriental lover is usually taken
by a woman (contralto). For this number
Glinka makes use of a little Tatar air which
Ferdinand David afterwards introduced, trans-
posed into the major, in his symphonic poem
" Le Desert." It is a beautiful piece of land-
scape painting which makes us feel the peculiar
sadness of the twilight in Russia as it falls on
the vast spaces of the Steppes. A French critic
has said that it might have been written by an
oriental Handel. The scene described as the
seduction of Ratmir consists of a ballet in rococo
style entitled " Naina's magic dance." Then
follows a duet for Gorislava and Ratmir, after
which the maidens of the harem surround
Ratmir and screen Gorislava from him. After-
wards the enchanted palace created by Naina to
ensnare Ratmir suddenly vanishes and we see
the open plain once more. The act concludes
with a quartet in which Russian and Fmn take
part with the two oriental lovers.
The entr'acte preceding the fourth act consists

H2 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

of a march movement (Marcia allegro risoluto) .
The curtain then rises upon Chernomor's
enchanted garden, where Liudmilla languishes
in captivity. An oriental ballet then follows,
but this is preceded by the March of the Wizard
Chernomor. This quaint march which per-
sonifies the invisible monster is full of imagin-
ation, although it tells its tale so simply that it
takes us back to the fairyland of childhood.
The first of the Eastern dances (allegretto quasi
andante) is based upon a Turkish song in
6-8 measure. Afterwards follows the Danse
Arabesque and finally a Lezginka, an immensely
spirited dance built upon another of the Tatar
melodies which were given to Glinka by the
famous painter Aivazovsky. A chorus of
naiads and a chorus of flowers also form part
of the ballet, which is considered one of Glinka's
chefs d'ceuvre. While the chorus is being sung
we see in the distance an aerial combat between
Russian and Chernomor, and throughout the
whole of the movement the wizard's leitmotif is
prominent in the music. Russian, having over-
come Chernomor, wakes Liudmilla from the
magic sleep into which she has been cast by his
spells.

The first scene of the last act takes place in
the Steppes, where Ratmir and Gorislava, now
reconciled, have pitched their tent. Russian's
followers break in upon the lovers with the

GLINKA'S OPERAS 113

news that Farlaf has treacherously snatched
Liudmilla from their master. Then Finn arrives
and begs Ratmir to carry to Russian a magic
ring which will restore the princess from her
trance. In the second scene the action returns
to Prince Svietozar's palace. Liudmilla is still
under a spell, and her father, who believes her
to be dead, reproaches Farlaf in a fine piece of
recitative (Svietozar's music throughout the
work is consistently archaic in character).
Farlaf declares that Liudmilla is not dead and
claims her as his reward. Svietozar is reluc-
tantly about to fulfil his promise, when Russian
arrives with the magic ring and denounces the
false knight. The funeral march which had
accompanied the Prince's recitative now gives
place to the chorus " Love and joy." Liud-
milla in her sleep repeats the melody of the
chorus in a kind of dreamy ecstasy. Then
Russian awakens her and the opera concludes
with a great chorus of thanksgiving and con-
gratulation. Throughout the finale the charac-
teristics of Russian and Eastern music are
combined with brilliant effect.

Russian and Liudmilla was received with
indifference by the public and with pronounced
hostility by most of the critics. Undoubtedly
the weakness of the libretto had much to do
with its early failure ; but it is equally true that
in this, his second opera, Glinka travelled so

I

U4 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

far from Italian tradition and carried his use
oF~hational colour so much further and with
such far greater conviction, that the music
became something of an enigma to a public
whose enthusiasm was still wholly reserved for
the operas of Donizetti, Bellini and Rossini.
Looking back from the present condition of
Russian opera we can trace the immense
influence of Russian and Liudmilla upon the
later generation of composers both as regards
opera and ballet. It is impossible not to
realise that the fantastic Russian ballets of the
present day owe much to Glinka's first intro-
duction of Eastern dances into Russian and
Liudmilla.

The coldness of the public towards this work,
the fruit of his mature conviction, was a keen
disappointment to Glinka. He had not the
alternative hope of being appreciated abroad,
for he had deliberately chosen to appeal to his
fellow-countrymen, and when they rejected him
he had no heart for further endeavour. His later
symphonic works, " Kamarinskaya " and " The
Jot a Aragonese," show that his gift had by no
means deteriorated. Of the former Tchaikovsky
has truly said that Glinka has succeeded in
concentrating in one short work what a dozen
second-rate talents could only have invented
with the whole expenditure of their powers.
Possibly Glinka would have had more courage

GLINKA'S OPERAS 115

and energy to meet his temporary dethrone-
ment from the hearts of his own people had not
his health been already seriously impaired.
After the production of Russian he lived chiefly
abroad. In his later years he was much at-
tracted to the music of Bach and to the older
polyphonic schools of Italy and Germany.
Always preoccupied with the idea of nation-
ality in music, he made an elaborate study of
Russian church music, but his failing health
did not permit him to carry out the plans which
he had formed in this connection. In April
1856 he left St. Petersburg for the last time and
went to Berlin, where he intended to pursue
these studies with the assistance of Dehn. Here
he lived very quietly for some months, working
twice a week with his old master and going
occasionally to the opera to hear the works
of Gluck and Mozart. In January 1857 ne
was taken seriously ill, and passed peacefully
away during the night of February 2nd. In
the following May his remains were brought from
Germany to St. Petersburg and laid in the ceme-
tery of the Alexander Nevsky monastery near
to those of other national poets, Krylov,
Baratinsky and Joukovsky.

Jjlinka was the first inspired interpreter of
the Russian nationality in music. During
the period which has elapsed since his death
the impress of his genius upon that of his

n6 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

fellow countrymen has in no way weakened.
For this reason a knowledge of his music is an
indispensable introduction to the appreciation
of the later school of Russian music ; for in his
works and in those of Dargomijsky, we shall
find the key to all that has since been accom-
plished.

CHAPTER V

DARGOMIJSKY

GLINKA, in his memoirs, relates how in
the autumn of 1834 he met at a musical
party in St. Petersburg, " a little man
with a shrill treble voice, who, nevertheless,
proved a redoubtable virtuoso when he sat down
to the piano/' The little man was Alexander
Sergei vich Dargomijsky, then about twenty-
one years of age, and already much sought after
in society as a brilliant pianist and as the com-
poser of agreeable drawing-room songs. Dargo-
mijsky's diary contains a corresponding entry
recording this important meeting of two men
who were destined to become central points
whence started two distinct currents of tendency
influencing the whole future development of
Russian music. " Similarity of education and
a mutual love of music immediately drew us
together," wrote Dargomijsky, " and this in
spite of the fact that Glinka was ten years my
senior." For the remainder of Glinka's life
Dargomijsky was his devoted friend and fellow-
worker, but never his unquestioning disciple.

n8 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Dargomijsky was born, February 2/14, 1813,
at a country estate in the government of Toula,
whither his parents had fled from their own home
near Smolensk before the French invaders in
1812. It is said that Dargomijsky, the future
master of declamation, only began to articulate
at five years of age. In 1817 his parents migrated
to St. Petersburg. They appear to have taken
great interest in the musical education of their
son ; at six he received his first instruction on
the piano, and two years later took up the violin ;
while at eleven he had already tried his hand at
composition. His education being completed,
he entered the Government service, from which,
however, he retired altogether in 1843. Thanks
to his parents' sympathy with his musical
talent, Dargomij sky's training had been above
the average and a long course of singing lessons
with an excellent master, Tseibikha, no doubt
formed the basis of his subsequent success as
a composer of vocal music. But at the time
of his first meeting with Glinka, both on
account of his ignorance of theory and of the
narrowness of his general outlook upon music,
he can only be regarded as an amateur. One
distinguishing feature of his talent seems to
have been in evidence even then, for Glinka,
after hearing his first song, written to humorous
words, declared that if Dargomijsky would
turn his attention to comic opera he would

DARGOMIJSKY 119

certainly surpass all his predecessors in that
line. Contact with Glinka's personality effected
the same beneficial change in Dargomijsky that
Rubinstein's influence brought about in Tchai-
kovsky some thirty years later ; it changed
him from a mere dilettante into a serious
musician. " Glinka's example," he wrote in
his autobiography, " who was at that time
(1834) taking Prince Usipov's band through the
first rehearsals of his opera A Life for the Tsar,
assisted by myself and Capellmeister Johannes,
led to my decision to study the theory of music.
Glinka handed over to me the five exercise
books in which he had worked out Dehn's
theoretical system and I copied them in my own
hand, and soon assimilated the so-called mys-
terious wisdom of harmony and counterpoint,
because I had been from childhood practically
prepared for this initiation and had occupied
myself with the study of orchestration." These
were the only books of theory ever studied by
Dargomijsky, but they served to make him
realise the possession of gifts hitherto unsus-
pected. After this course of self-instruction
he felt strong enough to try his hand as an
operatic composer, and selected a libretto
founded on Victor Hugo's " Notre Dame de
Paris." Completed and translated into Russian
in 1839, *ne work, entitled Esmeralda, was not
accepted by the Direction of the Imperial Opera

120 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

until 1847, when it was mounted for the first
time at Moscow. By this time Dargomijsky
had completely outgrown this immature essay.
The light and graceful music pleased the Russian
public, but the success of this half -forgotten
child of his youth gave little satisfaction to the
composer himself. He judged the work in the
following words : " The music is slight and
often trivial — in the style of Halevy and Meyer-
beer ; but in the more dramatic scenes there are
already some traces of that language of force
and realism which I have since striven to develop
in my Russian music/'

In 1843 Dargomijsky went abroad, and while
in Paris made the acquaintance of Auber,
Meyerbeer, Halevy, and Fetis. The success of
Esmeralda encouraged him to offer to the
Directors of the Imperial Theatre an opera-
ballet entitled The Triumph of Bacchus, which
he had originally planned as a cantata ; but the
work was rejected, and only saw the light some
twenty years later, when it was mounted in
Moscow. Dargomij sky's correspondence during
his sojourn abroad is extremely interesting, and
shows that his views on music were greatly
in advance of his time and quite free from the
influences of fashion and convention.

In 1853 we gather from a letter addressed to a
friend that he was attracted to national music.
As a matter of fact the new opera, upon which

DARGOMIJSKY 121

he had already started in 1848, was based upon
a genuine Russian folk-subject — Poushkin's
dramatic poem "The Roussalka" (The Water
Sprite). Greatly discouraged by the refusal
of the authorities to accept The Triumph of
Bacchus, Dargomijsky laid aside The Roussalka
until 1853. During this interval most of his
finest songs and declamatory ballads were
written, as well as those inimitably humorous
songs which, perhaps, only a Russian can fully
appreciate. But though he matured slowly, his
intellectual and artistic development was serious
and profound. Writing to Prince Odoevsky
about this time, he says : " The more I
study the elements of our national music, the
more I discover its many-sidedness. Glinka,
who so far has been the first to extend the sphere
of our Russian music, has, I consider, only
touched one phase of it — the lyrical. In The
Roussalka I shall endeavour as much as possible
to bring out the dramatic and humorous
elements of our national music. I shall be
glad if I achieve this, even though it may seem
a half protest against Glinka." Here we see
Dargomijsky not as the disciple, but as the
independent worker, although he undoubtedly
kept Russian and Liudmilla in view as the model
for The Roussalka. The work was given for
the first time at the Maryinsky Theatre, St.
Petersburg, in 1856, but proved too novel in

122 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

form and treatment to please a public that was
still infatuated with Italian opera.

In 1864-1865 Dargomij sky made a second tour
in Western Europe, taking with him the scores
of The Roussalka and of his three Orchestral Fan-
tasias, " Kazachok " (The Cossack), a " Russian
Legend," and " The Dance of the Mummers "
(Skomorokhi). In Leipzig he made the acquain-
tance of many prominent musicians, who con-
tented themselves with pronouncing his music
" sehr neu " and " ganz inter essant," but made
no effort to bring it before the public. In Paris
he was equally unable to obtain a hearing ; but
in Belgium— always hospitable to Russian musi-
cians— he gave a concert of his own composi-
tions with considerable success. On his way
back to Russia he spent a few days in London
and ever after spoke of our capital with en-
thusiastic admiration.

In 1860 Dargomij sky had been appointed
director of the St. Petersburg section of the
Imperial Russian Musical Society. This brought
him in contact with some of the younger con-
temporary musicians, and after his return from
abroad, in 1865, he became closely associated
with Balakirev and his circle and took a leading
part in the formation of the new national and
progressive school of music. By this time he
handled that musical language of " force and
realism/' of which we find the first distinct

DARGOMIJSKY 123

traces in The Roussalka, with ease and convinc-
ing eloquence. For his fourth opera he now
selected the subject of The Stone Guest (Don
Juan) ; not the version by Da Ponte which had
been immortalised by Mozart's music, but the
poem in which the great Russian poet Poushkin
had treated this ubiquitous tale. This work
occupied the last years of Dargomij sky's life,
and we shall speak of it in detail a little further
on. Soon after the composer's return from
abroad his health began to fail and the new
opera had constantly to be laid aside. From
contemporary accounts it seems evident that
he did not shut himself away from the world
in order to keep alive the flickering flame of
life that was left to him, but that on the con-
trary he liked to be surrounded by the younger
generation, to whom he gave out freely of his
own richly gifted nature. The composition of
The Stone G^iest was a task fulfilled in the
presence of his disciples, reminding us of some
of the great painters who worked upon their
masterpieces before their pupils' eyes. Dargo-
mijsky died of heart disease in January 1869.
On his deathbed he entrusted the unfinished
manuscript of The Stone Guest to Cui and Rimsky-
Korsakov, instructing the latter to carry out the
orchestration of it. The composer fixed three
thousand roubles (about £330) as the price of
his work, but an obsolete law made it illegal

124 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

for a native composer to receive more than £160
for an opera. At the suggestion of Vladimir Stas-
sov, the sum was raised by private subscription,
and The Stone Guest was performed in 1872.
Of its reception by the public something will
be said when we come to the analysis of the
work.

We may dismiss Esmeralda as being practic-
ally of no account in the development of Russian
opera ; but the history of The Roussalka is
important, for this work not only possesses
intrinsic qualities that have kept it alive for
over half a century, but its whole conception
shows that Dargomijsky was already in advance
of his time as regards clear-cut musical character-
isation and freedom from conventional restraint.
In this connection it is interesting to remember
that The Roussalka preceded Bizet's "Carmen"
by some ten or twelve years.

As early as 1843 Dargomijsky had thought
of The Roussalka as an excellent subject for
opera. He avoided Glinka's methods of en-
trusting his libretto to several hands. In pre-
paring the book he kept as closely as possible
to Poushkin's poem, and himself carried out the
modifications necessary for musical treatment.
It is certain that he had begun the work
by September 1848. It was completed in

1855-
As we have already seen, he was aware that

DARGOMIJSKY 125

Glinka was not fully in touch with the national
character ; there were sides of it which he had
entirely ignored in both his operas, because
he was temperamentally incapable of reflect-
ing them. Glinka's humour, as Dargomijsky
has truthfully said, was not true to Russian
life. His strongest tendency was towards a
slightly melancholy lyricism, and when he
wished to supply some comic relief he borrowed
it from cosmopolitan models. The composer of
The Roussalka, on the other hand, deliberately
aimed at bringing out the dramatic, realistic,
and humorous elements which he observed
hi his own race. The result was an opera con-
taining a wonderful variety of interest.

Russian folk-lore teems with references to
the Roussalki, or water nymphs, who haunt
the streams and the still, dark, forest pools,
lying in wait for the belated traveller, and of all
their innumerable legends none is more racy
of the soil than this dramatic poem by Poushkin
in which the actual and supernatural worlds are
sketched by a master hand. The story of the
opera runs as follows :

A young Prince falls in love with Natasha,
the Miller's daughter. He pays her such de-
voted attention that the father hopes in time
to see his child become a princess. Natasha
returns the Prince's passion, and gives him not
only her love but her honour. Circumstances

126 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

afterwards compel the Prince to marry in his
own rank. Deserted in the hour of her need,
Natasha in despair drowns herself in the mill-
stream. Now, in accordance with Slavonic
legends, she becomes a Roitssalka, seeking always
to lure mortals to her watery abode. Mis-
fortune drives the old Miller crazy and the
mill falls into ruins. Between the second act,
in which the Prince's nuptials are celebrated,
and the third, a few years are supposed to elapse.
Meanwhile the Prince is not happy in his married
life, and is moreover perpetually haunted by the
remembrance of his first love and by remorse
for her tragic fate. He spends hours near the
ruined mill dreaming of the past. One day a
little Roussalka child appears to him and tells
him that she is his daughter, and that she dwells
with her mother among the water-sprites.
All his old passion is reawakened. He stands
on the brink of the water in doubt as to whether
to respond to the calls of Natasha and the child,
or whether to flee from their malign influence.
Even while he hesitates, the crazy Miller appears
upon the scene and fulfils dramatic justice
by flinging the betrayer of his daughter into the
stream. Here we have the elements of an
exceedingly dramatic libretto which offers fine
opportunities to a psychological musician of
Dargomijsky's type. The scene in which the
Prince, with caressing grace and tenderness,

DARGOMIJSKY 127

tries to prepare Natasha for the news of his
coming marriage ; her desolation when she
hears that they must part ; her bitter disen-
chantment on learning the truth, and her cry
of anguish as she tries to make him realise the
full tragedy of her situation— all these emotions,
coming in swift succession, are followed by the
music with astonishing force and flexibility.
Very effective, too, is the scene of the wedding
festivities in which the wailing note of the
Roussalka is heard every time the false lover
attempts to kiss his bride— the suggestion of an
invisible presence which throws all the guests
into consternation. As an example of Dar-
gomijsky's humour, nothing is better than the
recitative of the professional marriage-maker,
' Why so silent pretty lassies," and the answer-
ing chorus of the young girls (in Act II.).
As might be expected with a realistic tempera-
ment like Dargomij sky's, the music of the
Roussalki is the least successful part of the work.
The sub-aquatic ballet in the last act is rather
commonplace ; while Natasha's music, though
expressive, has been criticised as being too
human and warm-blooded for a soulless water-
sprite. Undoubtedly the masterpiece of the
opera is the musical presentment of the Miller.
At first a certain sardonic humour plays about this
crafty, calculating old peasant, but afterwards,
when disappointed greed and his daughter's

128 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

disgrace have turned his brain, how subtly
the music is made to suggest the cunning of
mania in that strange scene in which he babbles
of his hidden treasures, " stored safe enough
where the fish guard them with one eye ! "
With extraordinary power Dargomijsky repro-
duces his hideous meaningless laugh as he
pushes the Prince into the swirling mill-stream.
The character of the Miller alone would suffice
to prove that the composer possesses dramatic
gifts of the highest order.

The Roussalka, first performed at the Maryin-
sky Theatre in May 1856, met with very little
success. The Director of the opera, Glinka's
old enemy Gedeonov, having made up his mind
that so " unpleasing " a work could have no
future, mounted it in the shabbiest style.
Moreover, as was usually the case with national
opera then — and even at a later date — the inter-
pretation was entrusted to second-rate artists.
Dargomijsky, in a letter to his pupil Madame
Karmalina, comments bitterly upon this ; un-
happily he could not foresee the time, not so
far distant, when the great singer Ossip Petrov
would electrify the audience with his wonderful
impersonation of the Miller ; nor dream that
fifty years later Shaliapin would make one of
his most legitimate triumphs in this part. The
critics met Dargomij sky's innovations without
in the least comprehending their drift. Serov-

DARGOMIJSKY 129

it was before the days of his opposition to the
national cause — alone appreciated the novelty
and originality shown in the opera ; he placed
it above A Life for the Tsar ; but even his
forcible pen could not rouse the public from their
indifference to every new manifestation of art.
Dargomijsky himself perfectly understood the
reason of its unpopularity. In one of his
letters written at this time, he says : " Neither
our amateurs nor our critics recognise my
talents. Their old-fashioned notions cause them
to seek for melody which is merely flatter-
ing to the ear. That is not my first thought.
I have no intention of indulging them with
music as a plaything. I want the note to be the
direct equivalent of the word. I want truth and
realism. This they cannot understand/'

Ten years after the first performance of The
Roussalka, the public began to reconsider its
verdict. The emancipation of the serfs in
1861 changed the views of society towards the
humble classes, and directed attention towards
all that concerned the past history of the peasan-
try. A new spirit animated the national ideal.
From Poushkin's poetry, with its somewhat
" Olympian " attitude to life, the reading public
turned to the people's poets, Nekrassov and
Nikitin ; while the realism of Gogol was now
beginning to be understood. To these circum-
stances we may attribute the reaction in favour

K

130 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

of The Roussalka, which came as a tardy com-
pensation towards the close of the composer's
life.

During the ten years which followed the
completion of The Roussalka, Dargomijsky was
steadily working towards the formulation of new
principles in vocal, and especially in dramatic
music. We may watch his progress in the
series of songs and ballads which he produced
at this time. It is, however, in The Stone Guest
that Dargomijsky carries his theories of operatic
reform to a logical conclusion. One of his chief
aims, in which he succeeded in interesting the
little band of disciples whose work we shall
presently review, was the elimination of the
artificial and conventional in the accepted forms
of Italian opera. Wagner had already experi-
enced the same dissatisfaction, and was solving
the question of reform in the light of his own
great genius. But the Russian composers could
not entirely adopt the Wagnerian theories.
Dargomijsky, while rejecting the old arbitrary
divisions of opera, split upon the question of the
importance which Wagner gave to the orchestra.
Later on we shall see how each member of the
newly-formed school tried to work out the
principles of reformation in his own way, keeping
in view the dominant idea that the dramatic
interest should be chiefly sustained by the
singer, while the orchestra should be regarded

DARGOMIJSKY 131

as a means of enhancing the interest of the
vocal music. Dargomijsky himself was the
first to embody these principles in what must
be regarded as one of the masterpieces of Russian
music — his opera The Stone Guest. Early in
the 'sixties he had been attracted to Poushkin's
fine poem, which has for subject the story of
Don Juan, treated, not as we find it in Mozart's
opera, by a mere librettist, but with the dra-
matic force and intensity of a great poet.
Dargomijsky was repelled by the idea of mutilat-
ing a fine poem ; yet found himself overwhelmed
by the difficulties of setting the words precisely
as they stood. Later on, however, the illness
from which he was suffering seems to have
produced in him a condition of rare musical
clairvoyance. " I am singing my swan song/'
he wrote to Madame Karmelina in 1868 ; "I
am writing The Stone Guest. It is a strange
thing : my nervous condition seems to generate
one idea after another. I have scarcely any
physical strength. ... It is not I who write,
but some unknown power of which I am the
instrument. The thought of The Stone Guest
occupied my attention five years ago when I
was in robust health, but then I shrank from the
magnitude of the task. Now, ill as I am, I
have written three-fourths of the opera in two
and a half months. . . . Needless to say the
work will not appeal to the many."

1 32 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

" Thank God," comments Stassov, in his
energetic language, " that in 1863 Dargomijsky
recoiled before so colossal an undertaking, since
he was not yet prepared for it. His musical
nature was still growing and widening, and he
was gradually freeing himself from all stiffness
and asperity, from false notions of form, and
from the Italian and French influences which
sometimes predominate in the works of his
early and middle periods. In each new com-
position Dargomijsky takes a step forward,
but in 1866 his preparations were complete.
A great musician was ready to undertake a
great work. Here was a man who had cast
off all musical wrong thinking, whose mind
was as developed as his talent, and who found
such inward force and greatness of character
as inspired him to write this work while he lay
in bed, subject to the terrible assaults of a mortal
malady."

The Stone Guest, then, is the ultimate expres-
sion of that realistic language which Dargomij-
sky employs in his early cantata The Triumph
of Bacchus, in The Roussalka, and in his best
songs. It is applied not to an ordinary ready-
made libretto, but to a poem of such excellence
that the composer felt it a sacrilege to treat it
otherwise than as on an equal footing with the
music. This effort to follow with absolute
fidelity every word of the book, and to make

DARGOMIJSKY 133

the note the representative of the word, led
to the adoption of a new operatic form, and to
the complete abandonment of the traditional soli,
duets, choruses, and concerted pieces. In The
Stone Guest the singers employ that melos, or
mezzo-recitativo , which is neither melody nor
speech, but the connecting link between the
two. Some will argue, with Serov, that there
is nothing original in these ideas ; they had
already been carried out by Wagner; and that
The Stone Guest does not prove that Dargomijsky
was an innovator but merely that he had the
intelligence to become the earliest of Wagner's
disciples. Nothing could be further from the
truth. By 1866 Dargomijsky had some theore-
tical knowledge of Wagner's views, but he can
have heard little, if any, of his music. Whether
he was at all influenced by the former, it is
difficult to determine ; but undoubtedly his
efforts to attain to a more natural and realistic
method of expression date from a time when
Wagner and Wagnerism were practically a
sealed book to him. One thing is certain : from
cover to cover of The Stone Guest it would be
difficult to find any phrase which is strongly
reminiscent of Wagner's musical style. What
he himself thought of Wagner's music we
may gather from a letter written to Serov in
1856, in which he says : "I have not returned
your score of " Tannhauser," because I have not

134 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

yet had time to go through the whole work.
You are right ; in the scenic disposition there
is much poetry ; in the music, too, he shows us
a new and practical path ; but in his unnatural
melodies and spiciness, although at times his
harmonies are very interesting, there is a sense
of effort — will und kann nicht ! Truth — above
all truth — but we may demand good taste as
well."

Dargomijsky was no conscious or deliberate
imitator of Wagner. The passion for realistic
expression which possessed him from the first
led him by a parallel but independent path
to a goal somewhat similar to that which was
reached by Wagner. But Dargomijsky adhered
more closely to the way indicated a century
earlier by that great musical reformer Gluck.
In doing this justice to the Russian composer,
a sense of proportion forbids me to draw further
analogies between the two men. Dargomijsky
was a strong and original genius, who would
have found his way to a reformed music drama,
even if Wagner had not existed. Had he been
sustained by a Ludwig of Bavaria, instead of
being opposed by a Gedeonov, he might have
left his country a larger legacy from his abund-
ant inspiration ; but fate and his surroundings
willed that his achievements should be com-
paratively small. Whereas Wagner, moving on
from strength to strength, from triumph to

DARGOMIJSKY 135

triumph, raised up incontestable witnesses to
the greatness of his genius.

In The Stone Guest Dargomijsky has been
successful in welding words and music into an
organic whole ; while the music allotted to each
individual in the opera seems to fit like a skin.
" Poetry, love, passion, arresting tragedy, humour,
subtle psychological sense and imaginative treat-
ment of the supernatural,1 all these qualities/'
says Stassov, " are combined in this opera."
The chief drawback of the work is probably
its lack of scenic interest, a fault which inevit-
ably results from the unity of its construction.
The music, thoughtful, penetrative, and emo-
tional, is of the kind which loses little by the
absence of scenic setting. The Stone Guest is
essentially an opera which may be studied at
the piano. It unites as within a focus many of
the dominant ideas and tendencies of the school
that proceeded from Glinka and Dargomijsky,
and proves that neither nationality of subject
nor of melody constitutes nationality of style,
and that a tale which bears the stamp and colour
of the South may become completely Russian,
poetically and musically, when moulded by
Russian hands. The Stone Guest has never

1 The appearance of the Commandatore is accompanied
by a sinister progression as thrilling in its way as that
strange and horrible chord with which Richard Strauss
leads up to Salome's sacrilegious kiss in the closing scene of
this opera.

136 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

attained to any considerable measure of popu-
larity in Russia, In spite of Dargomij sky's
personal intimacy with his little circle of disciples,
in which respect his attitude to his fellow workers
was quite different to that of Glinka, the example
which he set in The Stone Guest eventually
found fewer imitators than Glinka's ideal model
A Life for the Tsar. At the same time in certain
particulars, and especially as regards melodic
recitative, this work had a decided influence
upon a later school of Russian opera. But this
is a matter to be discussed in a later chapter.

CHAPTER VI

WORK AND INFLUENCE OF SEROV

GLINKA and Dargomijsky were to Rus-
sian music two vitalising sources, to
the power of which had contributed
numerous affluent aspirations and activities.
They, in their turn, flowed forth in two distinct
channels of musical tendency, fertilising two
different spheres of musical work. Broadly
speaking, they stand respectively for lyrical
idealism as opposed to dramatic realism in
Russian opera. To draw some parallel between
them seems inevitable, since together they make
up the sum total of the national character.
Their influences, too, are incalculable, for with
few exceptions scarcely an opera has been pro-
duced by succeeding generations which does
not give some sign of its filiation with one or
the other of these composers. Glinka had the
versatility and spontaneity we are accustomed
to associate with the Slav temperament ; Dar-
gomijsky had not less imagination but was more
reflective. Glinka was not devoid of wit ;
but Dargomijsky's humour was full flavoured

138 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

and racy of the soil. He altogether out-
distanced Glinka as regards expression and
emotional intensity. Glinka's life was not rich
in inward experiences calculated to deepen his
nature, and he had not, like Dargomijsky, that
gift of keen observation which supplies the place
of actual experience. The composer of The
Stone Guest was a psychologist, profound and
subtle, who not only observed, but knew how
to express himself with the laconic force of a
man who has no use for the gossip of life.

When Glinka died in 1857, Russian musical
life was already showing symptoms of that
division of aims and ideals which ultimately
led to the formation of two opposing camps :
the one ultra-national, the other more or less
cosmopolitan. In order to understand the
situation of Russian opera at this time, it is
necessary to touch upon the long hostility which
existed between the rising school of young home-
bred musicians, and those who owed their
musical education to foreign sources, and in
whose hands were vested for a considerable
time all academic authority, and most of the
paid posts which enabled a musician to devote
himself wholly to his profession.

While Dargomijsky was working at his last
opera, and gathering round his sick bed that
group of young nationalists soon to be known
by various sobriquets, such as " The Invincible

SEROV 139

Band/' and " The Mighty Five,"1 Anton
Rubinstein was also working for the advance-
ment of music in Russia ; but it was the general
aspect of musical education which occupied
his attention, rather than the vindication of the
art as an expression of national temperament.
Up to the middle of the eighteenth century there
had been but two musical elements in Russia,
the creative and the auditory. In the latter
we may include the critics, almost a negligible
quantity in those days. At the close of the
'fifties a third element was added to the situa-
tion— the music schools. " The time had come/'
says Stassov, " when the necessity for schools,
conservatoires, incorporated societies, certifi-
cates, and all kinds of musical castes and privi-
leges, was being propagated among us. With
these aims in view, the services were engaged
of those who had been brought up to consider
everything excellent which came from abroad,
blind believers in all kinds of traditional pre-
judices. Since schools and conservatoires ex-
isted in Western Europe, we, in Russia, must
have them too. Plenty of amateurs were
found ready to take over the direction of our
new conservatoires. Such enterprise was part
of a genuine, but hasty, patriotism, and the
business was rushed through. It was asserted

1 Balakirev, Cui, Moussorgsky, Borodin, and Rimsky-
Korsakov.

140 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

that music in Russia was then at a very low ebb
and that everything must be done to raise the
standard of it. With the object of extending
the tone and improving the knowledge of
music, the Musical Society was founded in 1859,
and its principal instrument, the St. Petersburg
Conservatoire, in 1862. . . . Not long before
the opening of this institution, Rubinstein
wrote an article,1 in which he deplored the
musical condition of the country, and said that
in Russia ' the art was practised only by
amateurs * ... and this at a time when Bala-
kirev, Moussorgsky and Cui had already com-
posed several of their early works and had them
performed in public. Were these men really
only amateurs ? The idea of raising and develop-
ing the standard of music was laudable, but was
Russia truly in such sore need of that kind of
development and elevation when an independent
and profoundly national school was already
germinating in our midst ? In discussing Rus-
sian music, the first questions should have been :
what have we new in our music ; what is its
character ; what are its idiosyncrasies, and what
is necessary for its growth and the preservation
of its special qualities ? But the people who
thought to encourage the art in Russia did not,
or would not, take this indigenous element
into consideration, and from the lofty pinnacle
1 In Vek (The Century). No. I.

SEROV

142 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

advantageous for our own race and country.
Must we copy that which exists abroad, merely
that we may have the satisfaction of boasting
a vast array of teachers and classes, of fruitless
distributions of prizes and scholarships, of reams
of manufactured compositions, and hosts of
useless musicians/'1

I have quoted these extracts from Stassov's
writings partly for the sake of the sound common-
sense with which he surrounds the burning
question of that and later days, and partly
because his protest is interesting as echoing
the reiterated cry of the ultra-patriotic musical
party in this country.

Such protests, however, were few, while the
body of public enthusiasm was great ; and
Russian enthusiasm, it may be observed, too
often takes the externals into higher account
than the essentials. Rubinstein found a power-
ful patroness in the person of the Grand Duchess
Helena Pavlovna ; the Imperial Russian Musical
Society was founded under the highest social
auspices ; and two years later all officialdom
presided at the birth of its offshoot, the St.
Petersburg Conservatoire. Most of the evils
prophesied by Stassov actually happened, and
prevailed, at least for a time. But foreign

1 Reprinted in " Twenty-five Years of Russian Art." The
collected works (Sobranie Sochinenie) of Vladimir Stassov.
Vol. I.

SEROV 143

influences, snobbery, official tyranny and parsi-
mony, the over-crowding of a privileged pro-
fession, and mistakes due to the well-intentioned
interference of amateurs in high places — these
things are but the inevitable stains on the
history of most human organisations. What
Cheshikin describes as " alienomania," the craze
for everything foreign, always one of the weak-
nesses of Russian society, was undoubtedly
fostered to some extent under the early cos-
mopolitan regime of the conservatoire ; but
even if it temporarily held back the rising tide
of national feeling in music, it was powerless
in the end to limit its splendid energy. The
thing most feared by the courageous old patriot,
Stassov, did not come to pass. The intense
fervour of the group known as " The Mighty
Band " carried all things before it. Russian
music, above all Russian opera, triumphs
to-day, both at home and abroad, in propor-
tion to its amor patricz. It is not the diluted
cosmopolitan music of the schools, with its
familiar echoes of Italy, France and Germany,
but the folk-song operas in their simple, forceful
and sincere expression of national character that
have carried Paris, Milan and London by storm.

The two most prominent representatives of
the cosmopolitan and academic tendencies in
Russia were Anton Rubinstein and Alexander
Serov. Both were senior to any member of

144 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the nationalist circle, and their work being in
many respects very dissimilar in character to
that of the younger composers, I propose to
give some account of it in this and the following
chapter, before passing on to that later group of
workers who made the expression of Russian
sentiment the chief feature of their operas.

Alexander Nicholaevich Serov, born in St.
Petersburg January nth, 1820 (O.S.), was one of
the first enlightened musical critics in Russia. As
a child he received an excellent education. Later
on he entered the School of Jurisprudence, where
he passed among his comrades as " peculiar,"
and only made one intimate friend. This youth
— a few years his junior — was Vladimir Stassov,
destined to become a greater critic than Serov
himself. Stassov, in his " Reminiscences of
the School of Jurisprudence/' has given a most
interesting account of this early friendship,
which ended in something like open hostility
when in later years the two men developed into
the leaders of opposing camps. When he left
the School of Jurisprudence in 1840, Serov had
no definite views as to his future, only a vague
dreamy yearning for an artistic career. At his
father's desire he accepted a clerkship in a
Government office, which left him leisure for
his musical pursuits. At that time he was
studying the violoncello. Gradually he formed,
if not a definite theory of musical criticism, at

SEROV 145

least strong individual proclivities. He had
made some early attempts at composition, which
did not amount to much more than improvisa-
tion. ^ Reading his letters to Stassov, written
at this early period of his career, it is evident
that joined to a vast, but vague, ambition was
the irritating consciousness of a lack of genuine
creative inspiration.

In 1842 Serov became personally acquainted
with Glinka, and although he was not at that
period a fervent admirer of this master, yet
personal contact with him gave the younger
man his first impulse towards more serious work.
He began to study A Life for the Tsar with
newly opened eyes, and became enthusiastic
over this opera, and over some of Glinka's
songs. But when in the autumn of the same
year Russian and Liudmilla was performed for
the first time, his enthusiasm seems to have
received a check. He announced to Stassov
his intention of studying this opera more seri-
ously, but his views of it, judging from what he
has written on the subject, remain after all
very superficial. All that was new and lofty
in its intention seems to have passed clean over
his head. His criticism is interesting as showing
how indifferent he was at that time to the great
musical movement which Wagner was leading
in Western Europe, and to the equally remark-
able activity which Balakir^v was directing

146 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

in Russia. He was, indeed, still in a phase of
Meyerbeer worship.

In 1843 Serov began to think of composing
an opera. He chose the subject of " The Merry
Wives of Windsor," but hardly had he made his
first essays, when his musical schemes were
cut short by his transference from St. Peters-
burg to the dull provincial town of Simferopol.
Here he made the acquaintance of the revolu-
tionary Bakounin, who had not yet been exiled
to Siberia. The personality of Bakounin made
a deep impression upon Serov, as it did later
upon Wagner. Under his influence Serov began
to take an interest in modern German philosophy
and particularly in the doctrines of Hegel.
As his intellect expanded, the quality of his
musical ideas improved. They showed greater
independence, but it was an acquired originality
rather than innate creative impulse. He ac-
quired the theory of music with great difficulty,
and being exceedingly anxious to master counter-
point, Stassov introduced him by letter to the
celebrated theorist Hunke, then residing in
St. Petersburg. Serov corresponded with Hunke,
who gave him some advice, but the drawbacks
of a system of a college by post were only too
obvious to the eager but not very brilliant
pupil, separated by two thousand versts from
his teacher. At this time he was anxious to
throw up his appointment and devote himself

SEROV 147

entirely to music, but his father sternly dis-
countenanced what he called " these frivolous
dreams."

It was through journalism that Serov first
acquired a much desired footing in the
musical world. At the close of the 'forties
musical criticism in Russia had touched its
lowest depths. The two leading men of the
day, Oulibishev and Lenz, possessed undoubted
ability, but had drifted into specialism, the
one as the panegyrist of Mozart, the other of
Beethoven. Moreover both of them published
their works in German. All the other critics
of the leading journals were hardly worthy
of consideration. These were the men whom
Moussorgsky caricatured in his satirical songs
"The Peepshow" and "The Classicist." It
is not surprising, therefore, that Serov's first
articles, which appeared in the " Contemporary"
in 1851, should have created a sensation in the
musical world. We have seen that his literary
equipment was by no means complete, that his
convictions were still fluctuant and unreliable ;
but he was now awake to the movements of the
time, and joined to a cultivated intelligence a
" wit that fells you like a mace." His early
articles dealt with Mozart, Beethoven, Donizetti,
Rossini, Meyerbeer, and Spontini, and in dis-
cussing the last-named, he explained and de-
fended the historical ideal of the music-drama.

148 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Considering that at that time Serov was practic-
ally ignorant of Wagner's work, the conclusions
which he draws do credit to his foresight and
reflection.

As I am considering Serov rather as a com-
poser than as a critic, I need not dwell at length
upon this side of his work. Yet it is almost
impossible to avoid reference to that long and
bitter conflict which he waged with one whom,
in matters of Russian art and literature, I
must regard as my master. The writings of
Serov, valuable as they were half a century ago,
because they set men thinking, have now all the
weakness of purely subjective criticism. He
was inconstant in his moods, violent in his
prejudices, and too often hasty in his judgments,
and throughout the three weighty volumes
which represent his collected works, there
is no vestige of orderly method, nor of a reasoned
philosophy of criticism. The novelty of his
style, the prestige of his personality, and per-
haps we must add the deep ignorance of the
public he addressed, lent a kind of sacerdotal
authority to his utterances. But, like other
sacerdotal divulgations, they did not always
tend to enlightenment and liberty of conscience.
With one hand Serov pointed to the great
musical awakening in Western Europe ; with
the other he sought persistently to blind Rus-
sians to the important movement that was

SEROV 149

taking place around them. In 1858 Serov
returned from a visit to Germany literally
hypnotised by Wagner. To quote his own
words : "I am now Wagner mad. I play him,
study him, read of him, talk of him, write about
him, and preach his doctrines. I would suffer
at the stake to be his apostle." In this exalted
frame of mind he returned to a musical world
of which Rubinstein and Balakirev were the
poles, which revolved on the axis of nation-
ality. In this working, practical world, busy
with the realisation of its own ideals and the
solution of its own problems, there was, as yet,
no place for Wagnerism. And well it has proved
for the development of music in Europe that the
Russians chose, at that time, to keep to the
high road of musical progress with Liszt and
Balakirev, rather than make a rush for the
cul-de-sac of Wagnerism. Serov had exasper-
ated the old order of critics by his justifiable
attacks on their sloth and ignorance ; had shown
an ungenerous depreciation of Balakirev and
his school, and adopted a very luke-warm
attitude towards Rubinstein and the newly-
established Musical Society. Consequently, he
found himself now in an isolated position.
Irritated by a sense of being " sent to Coventry/*
he attacked with extravagant temper the friend
of years in whom, as the champion of nation-
ality, he imagined a new enemy. The long

150 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

polemic waged between Serov and Stassov
is sometimes amusing, and always instructive ;
but on the whole I should not recommend it
as light literature. Serov lays on with bludgeon
and iron-headed mace ; Stassov retaliates with
a two-edged sword. The combatants are
not unfairly matched, but Stassov's broader
culture keeps him better armed at all points,
and he represents, to my mind, the nobler
cause.

When Serov the critic felt his hold on the
musical world growing slacker, Serov the com-
poser determined to make one desperate effort
to recover his waning influence. He was now
over forty years of age, and the great dream
of his life — the creation of an opera — was still
unrealised. Having acquired the libretto of
Judith, he threw himself into the work of com-
position with an energy born of desperation.
There is something fine in the spectacle of this
man, who had no longer the confidence and
elasticity of youth, carrying his smarting wounds
out of the literary arena, and replying to the
taunts of his enemies, " show us something
better than we have done/' with the significant
words " wait and see." Serov, with his ex-
travagances and cocksureness of opinion, has
never been a sympathetic character to me ;
but I admire him at this juncture. At first,
the mere technical difficulties of composition

SEROV 151

threatened to overwhelm him. The things which
should have been learnt at twenty were hard
to acquire in middle-life. But with almost
superhuman energy and perseverance he con-
quered his difficulties one by one, and in the
spring of 1862 the opera was completed.

Serov had many influential friends in aristo-
cratic circles, notably the Grand Duchess Helena
Pavlovna, who remained his generous patroness
to the last. On this occasion, thanks to the
good offices of Count Adelberg, he had not,
like so many of his compatriots, to wait an
indefinite period before seeing his opera mounted.
In March 1863 Wagner visited St. Petersburg,
and Serov submitted to him the score of
Judith. Wagner was particularly pleased with
the orchestration, in which he cannot have
failed to see the reflection of his own in-
fluence.

The idea of utilising Judith as the subject
for an opera was suggested to Serov by K. I.
Zvantsiev, the translator of some of the Wag-
nerian operas, after the two friends had witnessed
a performance of the tragedy " Giuditta," with
Ristori in the leading part. At first Serov
intended to compose to an Italian libretto, but
afterwards Zvantsiev translated into the verna-
cular, and partially remodelled, Giustiniani's
original text. After a time Zvantsiev, being
doubtful of Serov's capacity to carry through

THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the work, left the libretto unfinished, and it
was eventually completed by a young amateur,
D. Lobanov.

The opera was first performed in St. Peters-
burg on May i6th, 1862 (O.S.). The part of
Judith was sung by Valentina Bianchi, that of
Holof ernes by Sariotti. The general style of
Judith recalls that of " Tannhauser," and of " Lo-
hengrin," with here and there some reminiscences
of Meyerbeer. The opera is picturesque and
effective, although the musical colouring is
somewhat coarse and flashy. Serov excels
in showy scenic effects, but we miss the careful
attention to detail, and the delicate musical
treatment characteristic of Glinka's work, quali-
ties which are carried almost to a defect in some
of Rimsky-Korsakov's operas. But the faults
which are visible to the critic seemed virtues to
the Russian public, and Judith enjoyed a popular
success rivalling even that of A Life for the Tsar.
The staging, too, was on a scale of magnificence
hitherto unknown in the production of national
opera. The subject of Judith and Holof ernes
is well suited to Serov's opulent and sensational
manner. It is said that the scene in the Assyrian
camp, where Holofernes is depicted surrounded
by all the pomp and luxury of an oriental court,
was the composer's great attraction to the
subject ; the music to this scene was written
by him before all the rest of the opera, and it is

SEROV 153

considered one of the most successful numbers
in the work. The chorus and dances of the
Odalisques are full of the languor of Eastern
sentiment. The March of Holofernes, the
idea of which is probably borrowed from
Glinka's March of Chernomor in Russian and
Liudmilla, is also exceedingly effective ; for
whatever we may think of the quality of that
inspiration, which for over twenty years refused
to yield material for the making of any important
musical work, there is no doubt that Serov had
now acquired from the study of Wagner a
remarkable power of effective orchestration.
Altogether, when we consider the circumstances
under which it was created, we can only be
surprised to find how little Judith smells of the
lamp. We can hardly doubt that the work
possesses intrinsic charms and qualities, apart
from mere external glitter, when we see how it
fascinated not only the general public, but many
of the young musical generation, of whom
Tchaikovsky was one. Although in later years
no one saw more clearly the defects and make-
shifts of Serov's style, he always spoke of
Judith as " one of his first loves in music." " A
novice of forty-three," he wrote, "presented the
public of St. Petersburg with an opera which
in every respect must be described as beautiful,
and shows no indications whatever of being
the composer's first work. The opera has many

154 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

good points. It is written with unusual warmth
and sometimes rises to great emotional heights.
Serov, who had hitherto been unknown, and
led a very humble life, became suddenly the
hero of the hour, the idol of a certain set, in
fact a celebrity. This unexpected success turned
his head and he began to regard himself as a
genius. The childishness with which he sings
his own praises in his letters is quite remarkable.
And Serov had actually proved himself a gifted
composer but not a genius of the first order."
It would be easy to find harsher critics of
Serov's operas than Tchaikovsky, but his opinion
reflects on the whole that of the majority of
those who had felt the fascination of Judith
and been disillusioned by the later works.

If Judith had remained the solitary and belated
offspring of Serov's slow maturity it is doubtful
whether his reputation would have suffered.
But there is no age at which a naturally vain
man cannot be intoxicated by the fumes of
incense offered in indiscriminate quantities.
The extraordinary popular success of Judith
showed Serov the short cut to fame. The
autumn of the same year which witnessed its
production saw him hard at work upon a second
opera. The subject of Rogneda is borrowed
from an old Russian legend dealing with the
time of Vladimir, " the Glorious Sun," at the
moment of conflict between Christianity and

SEROV 155

Slavonic paganism. Rogneda was not written
to a ready-made libretto, but, in Serov's own
words, to a text adapted piecemeal "as neces-
sary to the musical situations/' It was com-
pleted and staged in the autumn of 1865. We
shall look in vain in Rogneda for the higher
purpose, the effort at psychological delineation,
the comparative solidity of workmanship which
we find in Judith. Nevertheless the work amply
fulfilled its avowed intention to take the public
taste by storm. Once more I will quote
Tchaikovsky, who in his writings has given a
good deal of space to the consideration of
Serov's position in the musical world of Russia.
He says : " The continued success of Rogneda,
and the firm place it holds in the Russian
repertory, is due not so much to its intrinsic
beauty as to the subtle calculation of effects
which guided its composer. . . . The public
of all nations are not particularly exacting in
the matter of aesthetics ; they delight in sen-
sational effects and violent contrasts, and are
quite indifferent to deep and original works of
art unless the mise-en-scene is highly coloured,
showy, and brilliant. Serov knew how to catch
the crowd ; and if his opera suffers from poverty
of melodic inspiration, want of organic sequence,
weak recitative and declamation, and from
harmony and instrumentation which are crude
and merely decorative in effect — yet what

156 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

sensational effects the composer succeeds in
piling up ! Mummers who are turned into
geese and bears ; real horses and dogs, the
touching episode of Ruald's death, the Prince's
dream made actually visible to our eyes ; the
Chinese gongs made all too audible to our ears,
all this — the outcome of a recognised poverty
of inspiration — literally crackles with startling
effects. Serov, as I have said, had only a
mediocre gift, united to great experience,
remarkable intellect, and extensive erudition ;
therefore it is not surprising to find in Rogneda
numbers — rare oases in a desert — in which the
music is excellent. As to these numbers which
are special favourites with the public, as is so
frequently the case, their real value proves to
be in inverse ratio to the success they have won."
Some idea of the popularity of Rogneda may
be gathered from the fact that the tickets were
subscribed for twenty representations in advance.
This success was followed by a pause in Serov's
literary and musical activity. He could now
speak with his enemies in the gate, and point
triumphantly to the children of his imagination.
Success, too, seems to have softened his hostility
to the national school, for in 1866 he delivered
some lectures before the Musical Society upon
Glinka and Dargomijsky, which are remarkable
not only for clearness of exposition, but for
fairness of judgment,

SEROV 157

In 1867 Serov began to consider the pro-
duction of a third opera, and selected one of
Ostrovsky's plays on which he founded a libretto
entitled The Power of Evil. Two quotations
from letters written about this time reveal
his intention with regard to the new opera.
" Ten years ago," he says, " I wrote much about
Wagner. Now it is time to act. To embody
the Wagnerian theories in a music-drama written
in Russian, on a Russian subject." And again :
" In this work, besides observing as far as
possible the principles of dramatic truth, I aim
at keeping more closely than has yet been done
to the forms of Russian popular music, as pre-
served unchanged in our folk-songs. It is
clear that this demands a style which has nothing
in common with the ordinary operatic forms, nor
even with my two former operas." Here we
have Serov's programme very clearly put before
us : the sowing of Wagnerian theories in Russian
soil. But in order that the acclimatisation
may be complete, he adopts the forms of the
folk-songs. He is seeking, in fact, to fuse
Glinka and Wagner, and produce a Russian
music-drama. Serov was a connoisseur of the
Russian folk-songs, but he had not that natural
gift for assimilating the national spirit and
breathing it back into the dry bones of musical
form as Glinka did. In creating this Russo-
Wagnerian work, Serov created something purely

158 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

artificial : a hybrid, which could bring forth
nothing in its turn. It is characteristic, too,
of Serov's short-sighted egotism that we find
him constantly referring to this experiment of
basing an opera upon the forms of the national
music as a purely original idea ; ignoring the
fact that Glinka, Dargomijsky and Mous-
sorgsky had all produced similar works, and
that the latter had undoubtedly written " music-
dramas/' which, though not strictly upon Wag-
nerian lines, were better suited to the genius
of the nation.

Ostrovsky's play,1 upon which The Power of
Evil is founded, is a strong and gloomy drama
of domestic life. A merchant's son abducts
a girl from her parents, and has to atone by
marrying her. He soon wearies of enforced
matrimony and begins to amuse himself away
from home. One day while drinking at an inn
he sees a beautiful girl and falls desperately
in love with her. The neglected wife discovers
her husband's infidelity, and murders him in a
jealous frenzy. The story sounds as sordid as
any of those one-act operas so popular with the
modern Italian composers of sensational music-
drama. But in the preparation of the libretto
Serov had the co-operation of the famous
dramatist Ostrovsky, who wrote the first three
acts of the book himself. Over the fourth act a

1 " Accept life as it comes. " (Nie tak iivi kak khochetsya.)

SEROV 159

split occurred between author and composer;
the former wished to introduce a supernatural
element, recalling the village festival in " Der
Freischiitz " into the carnival scene ; but Serov
shrank from treating a fantastic episode. The
book was therefore completed by an obscure
writer, Kalashinkev. Thus the lofty literary treat-
ment by which Ostrovsky sought to raise the
libretto above the level of a mere " shocker "
suffered in the course of its transformation.
The action of the play takes place at carnival
time, which gives occasion for some lively scenes
from national life. The work never attained the
same degree of popularity as Judith or Rogneda.
Serov died rather suddenly of heart disease
in January 1871, and the orchestration of The
Power of Evil was completed by one of his most
talented pupils, Soloviev.

We have read Tchaikovsky's views upon
Serov. Vladimir Stassov, after the lapse of
thirty years, wrote in one of his last musical
articles as follows : <( A fanatical admirer of
Meyerbeer, he succeeded nevertheless in catching
up all the superficial characteristics of Wagner,
from whom he derived his taste for marches,
processions, festivals, every sort of ' pomp and
circumstance/ every kind of external decoration.
But the inner world, the spiritual world, he
ignored and never entered ; it interested him not
at all. The individualities of his dramatis

160 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

persona were completely overlooked. They
are mere marionettes." His influence on the
Russian opera left no lasting traces. His
strongest quality was a certain robust dramatic
sense which corrected his special tendency to
secure effects in the cheapest way, and kept
him just on the right side of that line which
divides realism from offensive coarseness and
bathos.

Two more quotations show an interesting
light on Serov. The first is a confession of his
musical tastes, written not long before his death :
" After Beethoven and Weber, I like Mendels-
sohn fairly well ; I love Meyerbeer ; I adore
Chopin ; I detest Schumann and all his disciples.
I am fond of Liszt, with numerous exceptions,
and I worship Wagner, especially in his latest
works, which I regard as the ne plus ultra of
the symphonic form to which Beethoven led
the way."

The second quotation is Wagner's tribute to
the personality of his disciple, and it seems
only fair to print it here, since it contradicts
almost all the views of Serov as a man which
we find in the writings of his contemporaries
in Russia. " For me Serov is not dead," says
Wagner ; "for me he still lives actually and
palpably. Such as he was to me, such he remains
and ever will : the noblest and highest-minded
of mt-n. His gentleness of soul, his purity of

SEROV 161

feeling, his serenity, his mind, which reflected
all these qualities, made the friendship which
he cherished for me one of the gladdest gifts of
my life."

M

CHAPTER VII

ANTON RUBINSTEIN

ANTON Grigorievich Rubinstein was born
November 16/28, 1829, in the village
of Vykhvatinets, in the government of
Podolia. He was of Jewish descent, his father
being, however, a member of the Orthodox
Church, while his mother — a Lowenstein — came
from Prussian Silesia. Shortly after Anton's
birth his parents removed to Moscow, in the
neighbourhood of which his father set up a
factory for lead pencils and pins. Anton, and
his almost equally gifted brother Nicholas,
began to learn the piano with their mother, and
afterwards the elder boy received instruction
from A. Villoins, a well-known teacher in
Moscow. At ten years of age Anton made his
first public appearance at a summer concert
given in the Petrovsky Park, and the following
year (1840) he accompanied Villoins to Paris
with the intention of entering the Conservatoire.
This project was not realised and the boy
started upon an extensive tour as a prodigy
pianist. In 1843 he was summoned to play

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 163

to the Court in St. Petersburg, and afterwards
gave a series of concerts in that city. The
following year he began to study music seriously
in Berlin, where his mother took him first to
Mendelssohn and, acting on h*s advice, subse-
quently placed him under Dehn. The Revolu-
tion of 1848 interrupted the ordinary course
of life in Berlin. Dehn, as one of the National
Guard, had to desert his pupils, shoulder a musket
and go on duty as a sentry before some of the
public buildings, performing this task with a
self-satisfied air, " as though he had just suc-
ceeded in solving some contrapuntal problem,
such as a canon by retrogression." Rubin-
stein hastened back to Russia, having all his
music confiscated at the frontier, because it
was taken for some diplomatic cipher.

Soon after his return, the Grand Duchess
Helena Pavlovna appointed Rubinstein her
Court pianist and accompanist, a position which
he playfully described as that of " musical
stoker " to the Court. In April 1852 his first
essay in opera, Dmitri Donskoi (Dmitri of the
Don), the libretto by Count Sollogoub, was
given in St. Petersburg, but its reception was
disappointing. It was followed, in May 1853,
by Thomouska-Dourachok (Tom the Fool), which
was withdrawn after the third performance
at the request of the composer, who seems to
have been hurt at the lack of enthusiasm shown

164 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

for his work. Two articles from his pen which
appeared in the German papers, and are quoted
by Youry Arnold in his " Reminiscences/' show
the bitterness of his feelings at this time. " No
one in his senses," he wrote, " would attempt
to compose a Persian, a Malay, or a Japanese
opera ; therefore to write an English, French or
Russian opera merely argues a want of sanity.
Every attempt to create a national musical
activity is bound to lead to one result — dis-
aster."

Between the composition of the Dmitri Don-
skoi and Tom the Fool, Rubinstein's amazingly
active pen had turned out two one-act operas
to Russian words : Hadji- Abrek and Sibirskie
Okhotniki (The Siberian Hunters). But now he
laid aside composition for a time and undertook
a long concert tour, starting in 1856 and return-
ing to Russia in 1858. During this tour1 he
visited Nice, where the Empress Alexandra
Feodorovna and the Grand Duchess Helena
spent the winter of 1856-1857, and it seems
probable that this was the occasion on which
the idea of the Imperial Russian Musical
Society2 was first mooted, although the final
plans may have been postponed until Rubin-

1 He also visited England, making his appearance at one
of the concerts of the Philharmonic Society, in May 1857.

2 Henceforth alluded to as the I. R. M. S., or the Musical
Society.

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 165

stein's return to Petersburg in 1858. Little time
was lost in any case, for the society was started
in 1859, and the Moscow branch, under the direc-
tion of his brother Nicholas, was founded in 1860.
Piqued by the failure of his Russian operas,
Rubinstein now resolved to compose to German
texts and to try his luck abroad. Profiting
by his reputation as the greatest of living
pianists, he succeeded in getting his Kinder der
Heide accepted in Vienna (1861) ; while Dresden
mounted his Feramors (based upon Moore's
" Lalla Rookh ") in 1863. Between two con-
cert tours- — one in 1867, and the other, with
Wienawski in America, in 1872 — Rubinstein
completed a Biblical opera The Tower of Babel,
the libretto by Rosenburg. This type of opera
he exploited still further in The Maccabees
(Berlin, 1875) and Paradise Lost, a concert
performance of which took place in Petersburg
in 1876. Between the completion of these
sacred operas, he returned to a secular and
national subject, drawn from Lermontov's
poem " The Demon/' which proved to be the
most popular of his works for the stage. T he-
Demon was produced in St. Petersburg on
January I3th (O.S.), and a more detailed account
of it will follow. Nero was brought out in
Hamburg in 1875, and in Berlin in 1879. After
this Rubinstein again reverted to a Russian
libretto, this time based upon Lermontov's

166 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

metrical tale The Merchant Kalashnikov, but
the opera was unfortunate, being performed
only twice, in 1880 and 1889, and withdrawn
from the repertory on each occasion in conse-
quence of the action of the censor. The Shula-
mite, another Biblical opera, dates from 1880
(Hamburg, 1883) , and a comic opera, DerPapagei,
was produced in that city in 1884. Goriousha, a
Russian opera on the subject of one of Aver-
kiev's novels, was performed at the Maryinsky
Theatre, St. Petersburg, in the autumn of 1889,
when Rubinstein celebrated the fiftieth anniver-
sary of his artistic career.

The famous series of " Historical Concerts,"
begun in Berlin in October, 1885, was con-
cluded in London in May, 1886, after which
Rubinstein returned to St. Petersburg and
resumed his duties as Director of the Conser-
vatoire, a position which he had relinquished
since 1867. During the next few years he
composed the Biblical operas Moses (Paris,
1892) and Christus, a concert performance of
which was given under his own direction at
Stuttgart, in 1893 ; the first stage performance
following in 1895, at Bremen.

In the winter of 1894 Rubinstein became
seriously ill in Dresden, and, feeling that his
days were numbered, he returned in haste to
his villa at Peterhof. He lingered several
months and died of heart disease in November

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 167

1895. ' His obsequies were solemnly carried
out/' says Rimsky-Korsakov.1 " His coffin
was placed in the Ismailovsky Cathedral, and
musicians watched by it day and night. Liadov
and I were on duty from 2 to 3 a.m. I remember
in the dim shadows of the church seeing the
black, mourning figure of Maleziomova * who
came to kneel by the dust of the adored Rubin-
stein. There was something fantastic about
the scene."

With Rubinstein's fame as a pianist, the
glamour of which still surrounds his name, with
his vast output of instrumental music, good,
bad and indifferent, I have no immediate con-
cern. Nor can I linger to pay more than a
passing tribute to his generous qualities as a
man. His position as a dramatic composer
and his influence on the development of Rus-
sian opera are all I am expected to indicate
here. This need not occupy many pages, since
his influence is in inverse ratio to the volum-
inous outpourings of his pen. Rubinstein's
ideal oscillates midway between national and

1"The Chronicle of my Musical Life" (Lietopis moi
muzykalnoi Jizn), 1844-1906. N. A. Rimsky-Korsakov
(Edited by his widow). St. Petersburg, 1909.

2 Mme. Maleziomova, whom I met in St. Petersburg, was
for many years dame de compagnie, or chaperon, at Rubin -
stein's classes at the Conservatoire. She was a devoted
friend of the master's, and few people knew more of his
fascinating personality or spoke more eloquently of his
teaching.

168 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

cosmopolitan tendencies. The less people have
penetrated into the essential qualities of Russian
music, the more they are disposed to regard
him as typically Russian ; whereas those who
are most sensitive to the vibrations of Russian
sentiment will find little in his music to awaken
their national sympathies. The glibness with
which he spun off music now to Russian, now
to German texts, and addressed himself in turn
to either public, proves that he felt superficially
at ease with both idioms. It suggests also a
kind of ready opportunism which is far from
admirable. His attack on the national ideal
in music, when he failed to impress the public
with his Dmitri Donskoi, and his rapid change
of front when Dargomijsky and the younger
school had compelled the public to show some
interest in Russian opera, will not easily be for-
given by his compatriots. We have seen how
he fluctuated between German and Russian
opera, and there is no doubt that this diffusion
of his ideals and activities, coupled with a
singular lack of self-criticism, is sufficient to
account for the fact that of his operas — about
nineteen in all l — scarcely one has survived him.
Let a Russian pass judgment upon Rubinstein's
claims to be regarded as a national composer.
Cheshikin, who divides his operas into two

1 Eight Russian and eleven German operas. Six of
the latter were secular and five based on Biblical subject.

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 169

groups, according as they are written to German
or Russian librettos, sums up the general char-
acteristics of the latter as follows :

" Rubinstein's style bears a cosmopolitan
stamp. He confused nationality in music with
a kind of dry ethnography, and thought the
question hardly worth a composer's study. A
passage which occurs in his ' Music and its
Representatives ' (Moscow, 1891) shows his
views on this subject. ' It seems to me/ he
writes, ' that the national spirit of a composer's
native land must always impregnate his works,
even when he lives in a strange land and speaks
its language. Look for instance at Handel,
Gluck and Mozart. But there is a kind of
premeditated nationalism now in vogue. It
is very interesting, but to my mind it cannot
pretend to awaken universal sympathies, and
can merely arouse an ethnographical interest.
This is proved by the fact that a melody
that will bring tears to the eyes of a Finlander
will leave a Spaniard cold ; and that a dance
rhythm that would set a Hungarian dancing
would not move an Italian.' Rubinstein [com-
ments Cheshikin], is presuming that the whole
essence of nationality in music lies not in the
structure of melody, or in harmony, but in a
dance rhythm. It is not surprising that holding
these superficial views his operas based on Rus-
sian life are not distinguished for their musical

170 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

colour, and that he is only unconsciously and
instinctively successful when he uses the orien-
tal colouring which is in keeping with his de-
scent. He cultivated the commonly accepted
forms of melodic opera which were the fashion
in the first half of the nineteenth century. His
musical horizon was bounded by Meyerbeer.
He held Wagner in something like horror, and
kept contemptuous silence about all the Russian
composers who followed Glinka. This may be
partly explicable on the ground of his principles,
which did not admit the claims of declamatory
opera ; but it was partly a policy of tit for tat,
because Serov and ' the mighty band ' had
trounced Rubinstein unsparingly during the
'sixties for his Teutonic tendencies in his double
capacity as head of the I. R. M. S. and Director
of the Conservatoire. Narrow and conventional
forms, especially as regards his arias ; melody
as the sole ideal in opera ; an indeterminate
cosmopolitan style, and now and again a suc-
cessful reflection of the oriental spirit — these
are the distinguishing characteristics of all
Rubinstein's Russian operas from Dmitri Donskoi
to Goriousha."1

It is impossible to speak in detail of all Rubin-
stein's operas. The published scores are avail-
able for those who have time and inclination for

1 " A History of Russian Opera " (Istoriya Russ. Opera).
V. Cheshikin. St. Petersburg, 1905. P. Jurgenson.

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 171

so unprofitable a study. Such works as Hadji-
Abrek, based on Lermontov's metrical tale of
bloodshed and horror ; or Tom the Fool, which
carries us a little further in the direction of
nationalism, but remains a mere travesty of
Glinka's style ; or The Tower of Babel ; or
Nero, are hardly likely to rise again to the ranks
of living operatic works. His first national
opera Dmitri Donskoi, in five acts, is linked, by
the choice of a heroic and historical subject,
with such patriotic works as Glinka's A Life
for the Tsar, Borodin's Prince Igor and Rimsky-
Korsakov's Maid of Pskov (" Ivan the Terrible ") ;
but it never succeeded in gripping the Russian
public. The libretto is based on an event often
repeated by the contemporary monkish chroni-
clers who tell how Dmitri, son of Ivan II.,
won a glorious victory over the Mongolian Khan
Mamai at Kulikovo, in 1380, and freed Russia
for the time being from the Tatar yoke. Youry
Arnold, comparing Rubinstein's Dmitri Donskoi
with Dargomij sky's early work Esmeralda,1 finds
that, judged by the formal standards of the
period, it was in advance of Dargomij sky's
opera as regards technique, but, he says, " the
realistic emotional expression and unforced lyric
inspiration of Esmeralda undoubtedly makes

1 Dmitri Donskoi was produced in St. Petersburg in
1852 ; Esmeralda, first staged in Moscow in 1847, was
brought out in the modern capital in 1853.

172 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

a stronger appeal to our sympathies and we
recognise more innate talent in its author."

After the failure of Dmitri Donskoi, Rubin-
stein neglected the vernacular for some years
and composed only to German texts. But early
in the 'seventies the production of a whole
series of Russian operas, Dargomij sky's The Stone
Guest, Serov's The Powers of Evil, Cui's William
Ratdiff, Rimsky-Korsakov's Maid of Pskov,
and Moussorgsky's Boris Godounov, resuscitated
the public interest in the national ideal and
Rubinstein was obviously anxious not to be
excluded from the movement. His comparative
failure with purely Russian subjects, and the
knowledge that he felt more at ease among
Eastern surroundings, may have influenced his
choice of a subject in this emergency; but
undoubtedly Lermontov's poetry had a strong
fascination for him, for The Demon was the
third opera based upon the works of the Russian
Byron. Lermontov's romanticism, and the ex-
quisite lyrical quality of his verse, which almost
suggests its own musical setting, may well have
appealed to Rubinstein's temperament. The
poet Maikov took some part in arranging the
text for the opera, but the libretto was actually
carried out by Professor Vistakov, who had
specialised in the study of Lermontov. When
The Demon was finished, Rubinstein played
it through to " the mighty band " who assembled

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 173

at Stassov's house to hear this addition to
national opera. It would be expecting too
much from human nature to look for a wholly
favourable verdict from such a court of enquiry,
but " the five " picked out for approval pre-
cisely the two numbers that have best with-
stood the test of time, namely, the Dances and
the March of the Caravan which forms the
Introduction to the third scene of Act III.
As a national composer Rubinstein reached
his highest level in The Demon. The work was
presented to the English public, in Italian, at
Covent Garden, on June 21, 1881, but as it is
unknown to the younger generation some account
of its plot and general characteristics will not
be out of place here.1

The Demon, that " sad and exiled spirit/'
who is none other than the poet Lermontov
himself, thinly veiled in a supernatural disguise,
is first introduced to us hovering over the peak
of Kazbec, in the Caucasus, gazing in melancholy
disenchantment upon the glorious aspects of
the world below him — a world which he re-
gards with scornful indifference. The Demon's
malady is boredom. He is a mortal with
certain " demoniacal " attributes. Like Ler-
montov, he is filled with vague regrets for

1 For a fuller analysis of Lermontov's poem see " Poetry
and Progress in Russia," by Rosa Newmarch. John Lane,
The Bodley Head, London and New York.

174 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

wasted youth and yearns to find in a woman's
love the refuge from his despair and weariness.
From the moment he sees the lovely Circassian,
Tamara, dancing with her maidens on the eve
ox her wedding, the Demon becomes enamoured
of her, and the first stirrings of love recall the
long-forgotten thought of redemption. Tamara
is betrothed to Prince Sinodal, who is slain by
Tatar brigands on his way to claim his bride in
the castle of her father, Prince Gudal. The
malign influence of the Demon brings about
this catastrophe. In order to escape from her
unholy passion for her mysterious lover, Tamara
implores her father to let her enter a convent,
where she is supposed to be mourning her lost
suitor. But even within these sacred precincts
the Demon follows her, although not without
some twinges of human remorse. For a moment
he hesitates, and is on the point of conquering
his sinister desire ; then the good impulse
passes, and with it the one chance of redemption
through unselfish love. He meets Tamara's
good angel on the threshold of the convent, and,
later on, sees the apparition of the murdered
Prince. The Angel does not seem to be a
powerful guardian spirit, but rather the weak,
tormented soul of Tamara herself. The Demon
enters her cell, and there follows the long love
duet and his brief hour of triumph. Suddenly
the Angel and celestial voices are heard calling

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 175

to the unhappy girl : ' Tamara, the spirit of
doubt is passing." The nun tears herself from
the arms of her lover and falls dead at the
Angel's feet. The Demon, baffled and furious,
is left gazing upon the corpse of Tamara. In
the end the gates of Paradise are opened to her,
as to Margaret in " Faust," because by its
purity and self-sacrifice her passion works out
its own atonement. But the Demon remains
isolated and despairing, " without hope and
without love."

The poem, with its inward drama of pre-
destined passion, unsatisfied yearning and
possible redemption through love, almost fulfils
the Wagnerian demand for a subject in which
emotion outweighs action ; a subject so purely
lyrical that the drama may be said to be born
of music. Cheshikin draws a close emotional
parallel between The Demon and " Tristan and
Isolde " ; but perhaps its spirit might be more
justly compared with the romanticism of " The
Flying Dutchman." Musically it owes nothing
to Wagner. Its treatment is that of pre-
Wagnerian German opera strongly tinged with
orientalism. Rubinstein effectively contrasts
the tender monotonous chromaticism of eastern
music, borrowed from Georgian and Armenian
i| sources, with the more vigorous melodies based
Jon Western and diatonic scales, and, in this
i respect, his powers of invention were remarkable.

176 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Among the most successful examples oi the
oriental style are the Georgian Song " We go to
bright Aragva," sung by Tamara's girl friends
in the second scene of Act I. ; the Eastern melody
sung in Gudal's castle in Act II. ; the passing
of the Caravan, and the Dance for women in
the same act. The Demon's arias are quite
cosmopolitan in character, and the opening chorus
of Evil Spirits and forces of Nature, though
effective, are not strikingly original. There is
real passion in the great love duet in the last
act, with its energetic accompaniment that seems
to echo the sound of the wild turbulent river that
rushes through the ravine below the convent walls.
The Demon met with many objections from
the Director of the Opera and the Censor. The
former mistrusted novelties, especially those
with the brand of nationality upon them, and
was alarmed by the cost of the necessary
fantastic setting. The latter would not sanction
the lamps and ikons in Tamara's cell, and insisted
on the Angel being billed as " a Good Genius/'
The singers proved rebellious, and finally it
was decided to produce the work for the first
time on January I3th, 1875 (O.S.), on Melnikov's
benefit night, he himself singing the title role.
The other artists, who made up a fine caste,
were : Tamara, Mme. Raab ; the Angel, Mme.
Kroutikov ; Prince Sinodal, Komessarievich ;
Prince Gudal, the veteran Petrov, and the

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 177

Nurse, Mme. Shreder. The immediate success
of The Demon did much to establish Rubin-
stein's reputation as a popular composer, and
the opera is still regarded as his best dramatic
work, although many critics give the palm to
The Merchant Kalashnikov, which followed it
about five years later.

As I have already said, the fate of this work,
based on a purely Russian subject, seems to
have been strangely unjust. Twice received
with considerable enthusiasm in St. Petersburg,
it was quashed by the Censor on both occasions
after the first night. The libretto, by Kou-
likov, is founded on Lermontov's " Lay of the
Tsar Ivan Vassilievich (The Terrible), of the
young Oprichnik1, and the bold merchant
Kalashnikov/' The opera is in three acts.
In the first scene, which takes place in the Tsar's
apartments, the Oprichniki are about to celebrate
their religious service. Maliouta enters with
the Tsar's jester Nikitka, and tells them that
the Zemstvo has sent a deputation to the Tsar
complaining of their conduct, and that Nikitka
has introduced the delegates at Court. The
Oprichniki fall upon the jester and insist on his

1 The Oprichniki, a band of hot-headed and dissolute
young nobles who formed the; bodyguard of Ivan the
Terrible and were always" prepared to carry out his orders.
They carried a dog's head and a broonv'at their saddle-bow,
to show that they worried the enemies o\the Tsar and swept
them from the face of the earth.

N

178 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

buying their forgiveness by telling them a tale.
Nikitka's recital is one of Rubinstein's best
attempts to reproduce the national colour.
Afterwards the Tsar appears, the Oprichniki
don their black cloaks and there follows an
effective number written in strict church style.
The service ended, the Tsar receives the
members of the Zemstvo. To this succeeds an
animated scene in which Ivan feasts with his
guards. Observing that one of them, Kiribeie-
vich, is silent and gloomy, he asks the reason,
and the young Oprichnik confesses that he is in
love, and sings his song " When I go into the
garden/' a Russian melody treated by Rubin-
stein in a purely cosmopolitan style. The
finale of the first act consists of dances by the
Skomorokhi and a chorus for the Oprichniki,
the music being rather pretentious and theatrical
in style. The opening scene of Act II. takes
place in the streets of Moscow, and begins with
a chorus of the people, who disperse on hearing
that the Oprichniki are in the vicinity. Alena,
the wife of the merchant Kalashnikov, now
comes out of her house on her way to vespers,
accompanied by a servant. She sings a quiet
recitative in which she tells the maid to go home
and await the return of the master of the house,
and reveals herself as a happy mother and
devoted wife. She goes her way to the church
alone, pausing however to sing a pretty,

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 179

common-place Italianised aria, " I seek the
Holy Temple." Kiribeievich appears on the
scene, makes passionate love to her and carries
her off. An old gossip who has watched this
incident now emerges from her hiding place
and sings a song which introduces a touch of
humour. Enter Kalashnikov, who learns from
her of his wife's departure with the young
Oprichnik ; but she gives a false impression of
the incident. His recitative is expressive and
touching. The scene ends with the return of
the populace who sing a chorus. In the second
scene Kalashnikov plays an important part and
his doubts and fears after the return of Alena
are depicted with power. This is generally
admitted to be one of Rubinstein's few suc-
cessful psychological moments, the realistic
expression of emotion being one of his weak
points. Kalashnikov's scene, in which he con-
fers with his brothers, completes Act II. The
curtain rises in Act III. upon a Square in
Moscow where the people are assembling to
meet the Tsar. Their chorus of welcome,
" Praise to God in Heaven," is not to be
compared for impressiveness with similar mas-
sive choruses in the operas of Moussorgsky
and Rimsky-Korsakov. There are some
episodes of popular life, such as the scene
between a Tatar and the jester Nikitka, that
are not lacking in humour ; and the latter has

i8o THE RUSSIAN OPERA

another tale about King David which is in the
style of the so-called " spiritual songs " of the
sixteenth century. The accusations brought
by Kiribeievich are spirited. In a dramatic
scene the Tsar listens to Alena's prayer for
mercy, and pardons the bold Kalashnikov who
has dared to defy his Pretorian guards, the
Oprichniki. The opera winds up with a final
chorus of the people who escort the Merchant
from prison.

The Merchant Kalashnikov, although some-
what of a hybrid as regards style, with its
Russian airs handled a la Tedesca, and its
occasional lapses into vulgarity, has at the same
time more vitality and human interest than
most of Rubinstein's operas, so that it is to be
regretted that it has remained so long unknown
alike to the public of Russia and of Western
Europe.

Rubinstein's Biblical operas have now practic-
ally fallen into oblivion. Seeing their length,
the cost involved in mounting them, and their
lack of strong, clear-cut characterisation, this
is not surprising. The Acts of Artaxerxes and
the Chaste Joseph, presented to the Court of
Alexis Mikhailovich, could hardly have been
more wearisome than The Tower of Babel and
The Shulamite. These stage oratorios are like
a series of vast, pale, pseudo-classical frescoes,
and scarcely more moving than the officia

ANTON RUBINSTEIN 181

odes and eclogues of eighteenth-century Russian
literature. Each work, it is true, contains
some saving moments, such as the Song of
Victory, with chorus, " Beat the drums," sung
by Leah, the heroic mother of the Maccabees,
in the opera bearing that title, in which the
Hebrew colouring is admirably carried out ;
the chorus " Baal has worked wonders/' from
The Tower of Babel ; and a few pages from the
closing scene of Paradise Lost ; but these rare
flashes of inspiration do not suffice to atone for
the long, flaccid Handelian recitatives, the
tame Mendelssohnian orchestration, the fre-
quent lapses into a pomposity which only the
most naive can mistake for sublimity of utter-
ance, and the fluent dulness of the operas as a
whole.

Far more agreeable, because less pretentious,
is the early secular opera, a German adaptation
of Thomas Moore's " Lalla Rookh," entitled
Per amors. The ballets from this opera, the
Dance of Bayaderes, with chorus, in Act I.,
and The Lamplight Dance of the Bride of
Kashmere (Act II.) are still heard in the con-
cert room ; and more rarely, Feramor's aria,
" Das Mondlicht traumt auf Persiens See."
From the dramatic side the subject is weak,
but, as Hanslick observes in his " Contempor-
ary Opera " — in which he draws the inevitable
parallel between Felicien David and the Russian

182 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

composer- it was the oriental element in the
poem that proved the attraction to Rubinstein.
Yet how different is the conventional treatment
of Eastern melody in Feramors from Borodin's
natural and characteristic use of it in Prince
Igor ! But although it is impossible to ignore
Rubinstein's operas written to foreign texts
for a foreign public, they have no legitimate place
in the evolution of Russian national opera.
It is with a sense of relief that we turn from him
with his reactionary views and bigoted adherence
to pre-Wagnerian conventions, to that group
of enthusiastic and inspired workers who were
less concerned with riveting the fetters of old
traditions upon Russian music than with the
glorious task of endowing their country with
a series of national operas alive and throbbing
with the very spirit of the people. We leave
Rubinstein gazing westwards upon the setting
sun of German classicism, and turn our eyes
eastwards where the dawn is rising upon the
patient expectations of a nation which has long
been feeling its way towards a full and conscious
self-realisation in music.

CHAPTER VIII

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES

SOMETIMES in art, as in literature, there
comes upon the scene an exceptional,
initiative personality, whose influence
seems out of all proportion to the success of his
work. Such was Keats, who engendered a whole
school of English romanticism ; and such, too,
was Liszt, whose compositions, long neglected,
afterwards came to be recognised as containing
the germs of a new symphonic form. Such also
was Mily Alexevich Balakirev, to whom Russian
national music owes its second renaissance.
Born at Nijny-Novgorod, December 3ist, 1836
(O.S.), Balakirev was about eighteen when he
came to St. Petersburg in 1855, with an intro-
duction to Glinka in his pocket. He had pre-
viously spent a short time at the University of
Kazan, but had actually been brought up in the
household of Oulibishev, author of the famous
treatise on Mozart. It is remarkable, and testi-
fies to his sturdy independence of character —
that the young man had not been influenced by
his benefactor's limited and ultra-conservative

184 THE ^RUSSIAN OPERA

views. Oulibishev, as we know, thought there
could be no advance upon the achievements of
his adored Mozart. Balakirev as a youth studied
and loved Beethoven's symphonies and quartets,
Weber's " Der Freischiitz," Mendelssohn's Over-
tures and Chopin's works as a whole. He was
by no means the incapable amateur that his
academic detractors afterwards strove to prove
him. His musical culture was solid. He had
profited by Oulibishev's excellent library, and
by the private orchestra which he maintained
and permitted his young protege to conduct.
Although partially self-taught, Balakirev had
already mastered the general principles of musical
form, composition and orchestration. He was
not versed in counterpoint and fugue ; and cer-
tainly his art was not rooted in Bach ; but that
could hardly be made a matter of reproach, seeing
that in Balakirev's youth the great poet-musician
of Leipzig was neglected even in his own land,
and it is doubtful whether the budding schools of
Petersburg and Moscow, or even the long estab-
lished conservatoires of Germany, would then
have added much to his education in that respect.
In his provincial home in the far east of Europe
Balakirev stood aloof from the Wagnerian con-
troversies. But his mind, sensitive as a seismo-
graph, had already registered some vibrations of
this distant movement which announced a
musical revolution. From the beginning he was

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES 185

preoccupied with the question of transfusing
fresh blood into the impoverished veins of
old and decadent forms. Happily the idea
of solving the problem by the aid of the Wag-
nerian theories never occurred to him. He had
already grasped the fact that for the Russians
there existed an inexhaustible source of fresh
inspiration in their abundant and varied folk-
music.

The great enthusiasm of his youth had been
Glinka's music, and while living at Nijny-
Novgorod he had studied his operas to good
purpose. Filled with zeal for the new cause,
Balakirev appeared in the capital like a St. John
the Baptist from the wilderness to preach the
new gospel of nationality in art to the adorers
of Bellini and Meyerbeer. Glinka was on the
point of leaving Russia for what proved to be
his last earthly voyage. But during the weeks
which preceded his departure he saw enough of
Balakirev to be impressed by his enthusiasm
and intelligence, and to point to him as the con-
tinuator of his work.

The environment of the capital proved bene-
ficial to the young provincial. For the first time
he was able to mix with other musicians and to
hear much that was new to him, both at the
opera and in the concert room. But his con-
victions remained unshaken amid all these novel
experiences. From first to last he owed most to

186 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

himself, and if he soon became head and centre
of a new musical school, it was because, as
Stassov has pointed out, " he had every gift for
such a position : astonishing initiative, love and
knowledge of his art, and to crown all, untiring
energy/'

Balakirev left no legacy of opera, but his in-
fluence on Russian music as a whole was so
predominant that it crops up in every direction,
and henceforth his name must constantly appear
in these pages. Indeed the history of Russian
opera now becomes for a time the history of a
small brotherhood of enthusiasts, united by a
common idea and fighting shoulder to shoulder
for a cause which ought to have been popular,
but which was long opposed by the press and the
academic powers in the artistic world of Russia,
and treated with contempt by the "genteel " ama-
teur to whom a subscription to Italian opera stood
as the external sign of social and intellectual sup-
eriority. It was known as " Balakirev's set," or
by the ironical sobriquet of " the mighty band/'

At the close of the 'fifties Cesar Cui and
Modeste Moussorgsky had joined Balakirev's
crusade on behalf of the national ideal. A year
or two later Borodin and Rimsky-Korsakov
were admitted to the circle ; and subsequently a
gifted young amateur, Nicholas Lodyjensky,
attached himself tor a time to the nationalists.
To these names must be added that of the writer,

"

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES 187

Vladimir Stassov, whose active brain and pen
were always at the service of the new school.
Although Glinka had no further personal inter-
course with Balakirev and his friends, Dargom-
ijsky, as we have already seen, gladly opened

s house as a meeting place for this group of
young enthusiasts, who eagerly discussed ques-
tions of art with the older and more experienced
musician, and watched with keen interest the
growth of his last opera, The Stone Guest.

Rimsky-Korsakov, in his " Chronicle of my
Musical Life/' gives some interesting glimpses of
the pleasant relations existing between the
members of the nationalist circle during the
early years of its existence. Rimsky-Korsakov,
who was studying at the Naval School, St.
Petersburg, made the acquaintance of Balakirev
in 1861. " My first meeting with Balakirev
made an immense impression upon me," he
writes. " He was an admirable pianist, playing
everything from memory. The audacity of
his opinions and their novelty, above all, his
gifts as a composer, stirred me to a kind of ven-
eration. The first time I saw him I showed him
my Scherzo in C minor, which he approved, after
passing a few remarks upon it, and some
materials for a symphony. He ordained that
I should go on with the symphony.1 Of course

1 Rimsky-Korsakov was the first of the Russian com-
posers to write a symphony.

i88 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

I was delighted. At his house I met Cui and
Moussorgsky. Balakirev was then orchestrating
the overture to Cui's early opera The Prisoner in
the Caucasus. With what enthusiasm I took a
a share in these actual discussions about in-
strumentation, the distribution of parts, etc !
Through November and December I went toBala-
kirev's every Saturday evening and frequently
found Cui and Moussorgsky there. I also made
the acquaintance of Stassov. I remember an
evening on which Stassov read aloud extracts
from " The Odyssey/' more especially for my
enlightenment. On another occasion Moussorg-
sky read " Prince Kholmsky," the painter
Myassedov read Gogol's " Viya," and Balakirev
and Moussorgsky played Schumann's sym-
phonies arranged for four hands, and Beethoven's
quartets."

On these occasions the young brotherhood,
all of whom were under thirty, with the excep-
tion of Stassov, aired their opinions and criticised
the giants of the past with a frankness and
freedom that was probably very naive, and cer-
tainly scandalised their academic elders. They
adored Glinka ; regarded Haydn and Mozart as
old-fashioned ; admired Beethoven's latest
quartets; thought Bach — of whom they could
have known little beyond the Well-Tempered
Clavier — a mathematician rather than a musi-
cian ; they were enthusiastic over Berlioz, while,

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES 189

as yet, Liszt had not begun to influence them
very greatly. " I drank in all these ideas," says
Rimsky-Korsakov, " although I really had no
grounds for accepting them, for I had only
heard fragments of many of the foreign works
under discussion, and afterwards I retailed them
to my comrades (at the Naval School) who were
interested in music, as being my own con-
victions." From the standpoint of a highly
educated musician , a Professor at the St.
Petersburg Conservatoire, Rimsky-Korsakov
adopts a frankly mocking tone in his retrospec-
tive account of these youthful discussions ; but
it must be admitted that it was far better for
the future development of Russian music that
these young composers should have thought
their own thoughts about their art, instead
of taking their opinions ready-made from
German text-books and the aesthetic dogmas
laid down in the class rooms of the conserva-
toires.

For Rimsky-Korsakov these happy days were
short-lived, for in 1862 he was gazetted to the
cruiser " Almaz " and the next three years were
spent on foreign service which took him as far
afield as New York and Rio Janeiro.

Balakirev was distressed at this interruption
to Rimsky's musical career. If the disciple
idealised the master in those days, the latter in
his turn treated the young sailor with fraternal

THE RUSSIAN OPERA

affection, declaring that he had been providen-
tially sent to take the place of a favourite pupil
who had just gone abroad. A. Goussakovsky
was a brilliant youth who had recently finished
his course at the university and was specialising
in chemistry. He appears to have been a strange,
wild, morbid nature. His compositions for piano
were full of promise, but he was unstable of
purpose, flitted from one work to another and
finished none. He did not trouble to write down
his ideas, and many of his compositions existed
only in Balakirev's memory. He flashes across
this page of Russian musical history and is lost
to view, like a small but bright falling star.
Rimsky-Korsakov was endowed with far greater
tenacity of purpose, and in spite of all difficulties
he continued to work at his symphony on board
ship and to post it piece by piece to Balakirev
from the most out-of-the-way ports in order to
have his advice and assistance.

Rimsky-Korsakov came back to St. Petersburg
in the autumn of 1865 to find that some im-
portant changes had taken place in Balakirev's
circle during his absence. In the first place, to
the brotherhood was added a new member of
whom great things were expected. This was
Alexander Borodin, then assistant lecturer in
chemistry at the Academy of Medicine. Secondly,
Balakirev, in conjunction with Lomakin, one of
Russia's most famous choir trainers, had founded

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES 191

the Free1 School of Music, a most interesting
experiment. It has been said that this institu-
tion was established in rivalry with the Con-
servatoire. The concerts given in connection
with it, and conducted by its two initiators,
were certainly much less conservative than those
of the official organisation of the I. R. M. S. At
the same time it must be borne in mind that
during the 'sixties there was a great movement
" towards the people/' and that an enthusi-
astic temperament such as Balakirev's could
hardly have escaped the passionate altruistic
impulse which was stirring society. Individual
effort, long restricted by official despotism, was
becoming active in every direction. Between
1860-1870 a number of philanthropic schools
were established in Russia, and the Free School,
with its avowed aim of defending indivi-
dual tendencies and upholding the cause of
national music, was really only one manifestation
of a widespread sentiment.

Other important events which Rimsky-
Korsakov missed during his three years' cruise
were the first production of Serov's opera
Judith, and Wagner's visit to the Russian capital
when he conducted the orchestra of the Phil-
harmonic Society.

At this time, with the sole exception of
Balakirev, every member of the nationalist circle

Free in the sense of offering gratuitous instruction.

192 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

was earning his living by other means than
music. Cui was an officer of Engineers, and
added to his modest income by coaching.
Moussorgsky was a lieutenant in the Preobra-
jensky Guards. Rimsky-Korsakov was in the
Imperial navy, and Borodin was a professor of
chemistry.

Rimsky-Korsakov and Borodin soon became
intimate, notwithstanding the ten years dif-
ference in their ages. The former gives an
interesting picture of the composer of Prince
Igor, whose life was divided between chemistry
and music, to both of which he was sincerely
attached. " I often found him at work in his
laboratory," writes Rimsky-Korsakov, " which
communicated directly with his dwelling.
When he was seated before his retorts, which
were filled with colourless gases of some kind,
forcing them by means of tubes from one vessel
to another, I used to tell him he was spending
his time in pouring water into a sieve. As soon
as he was free he would take me to his living-
rooms and there we occupied ourselves with
music and conversation, in the midst of which
Borodin would rush off to the laboratory to
make sure that nothing was burning or boiling
over, making the corridor ring as he went with
some extraordinary passage of ninths or seconds.
Then back again for more music and talk/'
Borodin's life, between his scientific work, his

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES 193

constant attendance at all kinds of boards and
committee meetings,1 and his musical interests,
was strenuous beyond description. Rimsky-
Korsakov, who grudged his great gifts to any-
thing but music, says : " My heart is torn when
I look at his life, exhausted by his continual self-
sacrifice.'' He was endowed with great physical
endurance and was utterly careless of his health.
Sometimes he would dine twice in one day, if
he chanced to call upon friends at mealtimes.
On other occasions he would only remember at
9 p.m. that he had forgotten to take any food
at all during the day. The hospitable board of
the Borodins was generally besieged and stormed
by cats, who sat on the table and helped them-
selves as they pleased, while their complacent
owners related to their human guests the chief
events in the biography of their feline convives.
Borodin's wife was a woman of culture, and
an accomplished pianist, who had profound
faith in her husband's genius. Their married
life was spoiled only by her failing health,
for she suffered terribly from asthma and was
obliged to spend most of the winter months in the
drier air of Moscow, which meant long periods
of involuntary separation from her husband.
Another meeting place of Balakirev's circle

1 He was a warm advocate of the higher education of
women, and one of the founders of the School of Medicine
for Women at St. Petersburg.

O

194 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

was at the house of Lioudmilla Ivanovna
Shestakov, Glinka's married sister. Here, be-
sides the composers, came several excellent
singers, mostly amateurs, including the sisters
Karmalina and Mme. S. I. Zotov, for whom
Rimsky-Korsakov wrote several of his early
songs. Among those who sympathised with the
aims of the nationalists were the Pourgold
family, consisting of a mother and three
daughters, two of whom were highly accomplished
musicians. Alexandra Nicholaevna had a fine
mezzo-soprano voice with high notes. She sang
the songs of Cui, Balakirev and Rimsky-Korsakov
with wonderful sympathy and insight, and
" created " most of the female parts in the
operas of " the mighty band " in the days when
they had to be satisfied with drawing-room per-
formances of their works. But her strong point
was the interpretation of Moussorgsky's songs,
which was a revelation of the composer's depth of
feeling and close observation of real life and
natural declamation. I had the privilege of
visiting this gifted woman in later years when
she was Mme. Molas,1 and I can never forget the
impression made upon me by her rendering of
Moussorgsky's songs, " The Orphan," " Mush-

1 She married a naval officer, the Admiral Molas who
went down in the flagship Petropavlovsk at the entrance of
the harbour of Port Arthur during the Russo-Japanese war.
With him perished the great war painter, Vassily Verest-
chaedn.

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES 195

rooming/' " Yeremoushka's Cradle Song/' and
more especially of the realistic pictures of
child-life entitled "The Nursery." Her sister
Nadejda Nicholaevna, who became Mme.
Rimsky-Korsakov, was a pupil of Herke and
Zaremba, Tchaikovsky's first master for theory.
An excellent pianist and sight-reader, a musician
to her finger-tips, she was always available as an
accompanist when any new work by a member
of the brotherhood needed a trial performance.
She was also a skilful arranger of orchestral
and operatic works for pianoforte.1 The Pour-
golds were devoted friends of Dargomijsky, and
during the autumn of 1868 the entire circle met
almost daily at his house, to which he was more
or less confined by his rapidly failing health.

I have spoken of so many friends of " the
mighty band " that it might be supposed that
their movement was a popular one. This was
not the case. With the exception of Stassov
and Cui, who in their different styles did useful
literary work for their circle, all the critics of
the day, and the academical powers en bloc,
were opposed to these musical Ishmaelites.
Serov and Laroche carried weight, and were
opponents worth fighting. Theophil Tolstoy

1 Mme. Rimsky-Korsakov still takes an active interest in
musical questions. Articles over her initials often appear
in the Russian musical papers, and recently she has taken
up her pen in defence of her husband's editorial work for
Moussorgsky's operas.

196 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

(" Rostislav ") and Professor Famitzin, although
they wrote for important papers, represented
musical criticism in Russia at its lowest ebb,
and would be wholly forgotten but for the
spurious immortality conferred upon them in
Moussorgsky's musical satire " The Peepshow."
Nor was Anton Rubinstein's attitude to the new
school either just or generous. Tchaikovsky,
who, during the first years of their struggle for
existence, was occupying the position of professor
of harmony at the Moscow Conservatoire, started
with more friendly feelings towards the brother-
hood. His symphonic poem " Romeo and
Juliet " (1870) was written under the influence
of Balakirev, and his symphonic poem ' The
Tempest " (1873) was suggested by Vladimir
Stassov. But as time went on, Tchaikovsky
stood more and more aloof from the circle, and
in his correspondence and criticisms he shows
himself contemptuous and inimical to their
ideals and achievements, especially to Mous-
sorgsky, the force of whose innate genius he
never understood. Throughout the 'sixties, the
solidarity between the members of Balakirev's
set was so complete that they could afford to
live and work happily although surrounded
by a hostile atmosphere. Rimsky-Korsakov's
" Chronicle " of these early days of tens reminds
us of the history of our own pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood, and we are moved to admire the

BALAKIREV AND HIS DISCIPLES 197

devotion with which the members worked for
one another and for the advancement of their
common cause. A more ideal movement it would
be difficult to find in the whole history of art,
and all the works produced at this time were
the outcome of single-minded and clear con-
victions, uninfluenced by the hope of pecuniary
gain, and with little prospect of popular appre-
ciation.

CHAPTER IX

GRADUAL DISSOLUTION OF THE CIRCLE OF
FRIENDS

IT is difficult to fix the exact moment at.
which the little "rift within the lute"
became audible in the harmony of Bala-
kirev's circle. In 1872 Balakirev himself was
in full opposition on many points with the
policy of the I. R. M. S. and was maintaining
his series of concerts in connection with the
Free School in avowed rivalry with the senior
institution. His programmes were highly in-
teresting and their tendency progressive, but the
public was indifferent, and his pecuniary losses
heavy. In the autumn of that year he organ-
ised a concert at Nijny-Novgorod in which he
appeared as a pianist, hoping that for once a
prophet might not only find honour but sub-
stantial support in his own country. He was
doomed to disappointment ; the room was
empty and Balakirev used to allude to this
unfortunate event as " my Sedan." He re-
turned to St. Petersburg in low spirits and began
to hold aloof from his former friends and pupils.

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 199

Eventually — so it is said — he took a clerkship
in the railway service. At this period of his life
he began to be preoccupied with those mystical
ideas which absorbed him more or less until
the end of his days.

After a time he returned to the musical life,
and in the letters of Borodin and in Rimsky-
Korsakov's " Chronicle " we get glimpses of
the old ardent propagandist " Mily Alexe'ich."
From 1867 to 1869 he was Director of the
Imperial Chapel. But a few years later he
again separated from his circle and this time
he shut himself off definitely from society,
emerging only on rare occasions to play at some
charity concert, or visit the house of one of the
few friends with whom he was still in sympathy.
It was during these years that I first met him at
the Stassovs' house. So few strangers ever
came in contact with Mily Balakirev that I
may be excused for giving my own personal
impressions of this remarkable man.

From the moment when I first began to study
Russian music, Balakirev's personality and
genius exercised a great fascination for me.
He was the spark from whence proceeded not
only a musical conflagration but the warmth
of my own poor enthusiasm. Naturally I was
anxious to meet this attractive, yet self-isolated
personality. It was an early summer's evening
in St. Petersburg in 1901, and the excuses for the

200 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

gathering were a birthday in the Stassov family,
and the presence of an English enthusiast for
Russian music. Balakirev was expected about
9 p.m. Stassov left the grand piano open like
a trap set for a shy bird. He seemed to think
that it would ensnare Mily Alexe'ich as the
limed twig ensnares the bullfinch. The ruse
was successful. After greeting us all round,
Balakirev gravitated almost immediately to the
piano. " I'm going to play three sonatas/1
he announced without further ceremony, " Beet-
hoven's Appassionata, Chopin's B minor, and
Schumann No. 3, in G minor." Then he began
to play.

Balakirev was rather short. I do not know
his pedigree, but he did not belong to the tall,
fair type of Great Russia. There was to my
mind a touch of the oriental about him : Tatar,
perhaps, not Jewish. His figure was thickset,
but his face was worn and thin, and his com-
plexion brownish ; his air somewhat weary and
nervous. He looked like a man who strained
his mental energies almost to breaking point ;
but his eyes — I do not remember their colour —
were extraordinarily magnetic, full of fire and
sympathy, the eyes of the seer and the bard.
As he sat at the piano he recalled for a moment
my last remembrance of Hans von Bulow. Some-
thing, too, in his style of playing confirmed this
impression. He was not a master of sensational

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 201

technique like Paderewski or Rosenthal. His
execution was irreproachable, but one did not
think of his virtuosity in hearing him play for
the first time ; nor did he, as I expected, carry
me away on a whirlwind of fiery emotion. A
nature so ardent could not be a cold executant,
but he had neither the emotional force nor the
poetry of expression which were the leading
characteristics of Rubinstein's art. What struck
me most in Balakirev, and reminded me of
Billow, was the intelligence, the sympathy, and
the authority of his interpretations. He ob-
served, analysed, and set the work in a lucid
atmosphere. He might have adopted Stendhal's
formula : ' Voir clair dans ce qui est." It
would be wrong, however, to think of Balakirev
as a dry pedagogue. If he was a professor, he
was an enlightened one — a sympathetic and
inspired interpreter who knew how to recon-
struct in imagination the period and personality
of a composer instead of substituting his
own.

Having finished his rather arduous but self-
imposed programme, we were all afraid that
he might disappear as quietly as he came. An
inspiration on my part to address him some re-
marks, in extremely ungrammatical Russian, on
the subject of his songs and their wonderful, inde-
pendent accompaniments, sent him back to the
piano, where he continued to converse with me,

202 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

illustrating his words with examples of unusual
rhythms employed in his songs, and gliding
half unconsciously into some of his own and other
people's compositions. He could not be per-
suaded to play me " Islamey," the Oriental
Fantasia beloved of Liszt, but I remember one
delicate and graceful valse which he had
recently written. By this time the samovar
was bubbling on the table and the room was filled
with the perfume of tea and lemon. Happily
Balakirev showed no signs of departure. He
took his place at the table and talked with all
his old passion of music in general, but chiefly
of the master who had dominated the renais-
sance of Russian music — Michael Ivanovich
Glinka.

Russians love to prolong their hospitality until
far into the night. But in May the nights in
St. Petersburg are white and spectral. At mid-
night the world is steeped in a strange light,
neither twilight nor dawn, but something like
the ghost of the departed day haunting the
night that has slain it. Instead of dreams
one's mind is filled with fantastic ideas. As I
drove home through the streets, as light as in
the daytime, I imagined that Balakirev was a
wizard who had carried me back to the past—
to the stirring period of the 'sixties so full of
faith and generous hopes — so strong was the
conviction that I had been actually taking part

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 203

in the struggles and triumphs of the new Russian
school.1

After this I never entirely lost sight of Bala-
kirev. We corresponded from time to time and
he was always anxious to hear the fate of his
music in this country. Unfortunately I could
seldom reassure him on this point, for his works
have never roused much enthusiasm in the
British public. He died on Sunday, May 29th,
1910. I had not long arrived in Petersburg
when I heard that he was suffering from a severe
chill with serious complications. Every day
I hoped to hear that he was on the road to
recovery and able to see me. But on the i6th
I received from him a few pencilled lines—
probably the last he ever wrote — in which he
spoke of his great weakness and said the doctor
still forbade him to see his friends. From that
time until his death, he saw no one but Dimitri
Vassileivich, Stassov's surviving brother, and
his devoted friend and pupil Liapounov. He
died, as he had lived for many years, alone,
except for his faithful old housekeeper. He
departed a true and faithful son of the Orthodox
Church. In spite of his having spent nearly
twenty years of his life in pietistic retirement,
the news of his death reawakened the interest

1 These impressions are taken from an article of mine (in
French) published in the Sammelbande der Internationalen
MusikGesellschaftQahrgang IV. Heft I.),0ctober-Dezember
1902. Leipzig, Breitkopf and Hartel.

204 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

of his compatriots. From the time of his
passing away until his funeral his modest
bachelor apartments could hardly contain the
stream of people of all ages and classes who
wished to take part in the short services held
twice a day in the death chamber of the master.
He was buried in the Alexander Nevsky Ceme-
tery, not far from the graves of Dargomijsky,
Glinka and Stassov.

The true reason for the loosening of the bonds
between Balakirev and his former pupils cannot
be ascribed to differences in their religious
opinions. It was rather the inevitable result
of the growth of artistic individuality. Bala-
kirev could not realise this, and was disenchanted
by the gradual neglect of his co-operative ideal.
Borodin took a broad and sensible view of the
matter in writing to one of the sisters Karma-
lina in 1876 : — " It is clear that there are no
rivalries or personal differences between us ; this
would be impossible on account of the respect
we have for each other. It is thus in every
branch of human activity ; in proportion to
its development, individuality triumphs over
the schools, over the heritage that men have
gathered from their masters. A hen's eggs
are all alike ; the chickens differ somewhat,
and in time cease to resemble each other at all.
One hatches out a dark-plumed truculent cock,
another a white and peaceful hen. It is the

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 205

same with us. We have all derived from the
circle in which we lived the common character-
istics of genus and species ; but each of us, like
an adult cock or hen, bears his own character
and individuality. If, on this account, we are
thought to have separated from Balakirev,
fortunately it is not the case. We are as fond
of him as ever, and spare no pains to keep up
the same relations as before. As to us, we
continue to interest ourselves in each other's
musical works. If we are not always pleased
it is quite natural, for tastes differ, and even
in the same person vary with age. It could
not be otherwise."

The situation was no doubt rendered more
difficult by Balakirev's unaccommodating atti-
tude. ' With his despotic character/* says
Rimsky-Korsakov, " he demanded that every
work should be modelled precisely according
to his instructions, with the result that a large
part of a composition often belonged to him
rather than to its author. We obeyed him
without question, for his personality was irre-
sistible." It was inevitable that, as time went
on and the members of " the mighty band "
found themselves less in need of guidance in
their works than of practical assistance in
bringing them before the public, Balakirev's
circle should have become Belaiev's circle,
and that the Maecenas publisher and concert-

206 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

giver should by degrees have acquired a pre-
ponderating influence in the nationalist school.
This change took place during the 'eighties.

Mitrofane Petrovich Belaiev, born February
loth, 1836, was a wealthy timber merchant,
with a sincere love of music. He was an excep-
tion to the type of the Russian commercial
man of his day, having studied the violin and
piano in his youth and found time amid the
demands of a large business to occupy his
leisure with chamber music. My recollections
of Belaiev recall a brusque, energetic and some-
what choleric personality of the " rough dia-
mond " type ; a passionate, but rather indis-
criminate, enthusiast, and an autocrat. \Yishing
to give some practical support to the cause of
national music, he founded a publishing house
in Leipzig in 1885 where he brought out a great
number of works by the members of the then
new school, including a fine edition of Borodin's
Prince Igor. He also founded the Russian
Symphony Concerts, the programmes of which
were drawn exclusively from the works of native
composers. In 1889 he organised the Russian
Concerts given with success at the Paris Exhibi-
tion ; and started the " Quartet Evenings " in
St. Petersburg in 1891. Borodin, Rimsky-
Korsakov, Glazounov and Liadov wrote a
string quartet in his honour, on the notes B-la-f.
Belaiev died in 1904, but the Leipzig house still

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 207

continues its work under its original manager,
Herr Scheffer.

Undoubtedly Belaiev exercised a powerful
influence on the destinies of Russian music.
Whether he was better fitted to be the central
point of its activities at a certain stage of its
development than Balakirev is a question which
happily I am not called upon to decide. Money
and business capacity are useful, perhaps indis-
pensable, adjuncts to artistic progress in the
present day, but they can never wholly take the
place of enthusiasm and unstinted devotion.
" Les choses de I'ame nont pas de prix," says
Renan ; nevertheless there is a good deal of
bidding done for them in this commercial age.
It is easy to understand the bitterness of heart
with which the other-worldly and unconformable
Balakirev saw the members of his school passing
one by one into " the circle of Belaiev/' He had
steered the ship of their fortunes through the
storms and shoals that beset its early ventures ;
but another was to guide it into the haven of
prosperity and renown. Rimsky-Korsakov, in
his "Chronicle of my Musical Life," makes his
recantation of old ideals and enthusiasms in the
following terms : " Balakirev's circle was revolu-
tionary ; Belaiev's progressive. Balakirev's dis-
ciples numbered five ; Belaiev's circle was more
numerous, and continued to grow in numbers.
All the five musicians who constituted the older

208 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

school were eventually acknowledged as leading
representatives of Russian music ; the later
circle was made up of more varied elements ;
some of its representatives were men of great
creative gifts, others were less talented, and a
few were not even composers, but conductors,
like Diitsh, or executants like Lavrov. Bala-
kirev's circle consisted of musicians who were
weak — almost amateurish — on the technical side,
who forced their way to the front by the sheer
force of their creative gifts ; a force which
sometimes replaced technical knowledge, and
sometimes — as was frequently the case with
Moussorgsky — did not suffice to cover their de-
ficiences in this respect. Belaiev's circle, on the
contrary, was made up of musicians who were
well equipped and thoroughly educated. Bala-
kirev's pupils did not interest themselves in any
music prior to Beethoven's time ; Belaiev's
followers not only honoured their musical
fathers, but their remoter ancestors, reaching
back to Palestrina. . . . The relations of the
earlier circle to its chief were those of pupils to
their teacher ; Belaiev was rather our centre
than our head. ... He was a Maecenas, but
not an aristocrat Maecenas, who throws away
money on art to please his own caprices and
in reality does nothing to serve its interests.
In what he did he stood on firm and honour-
able ground. He organised his concerts and

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 209

publishing business without the smallest con-
sideration for his personal profit. On the con-
trary, he sacrificed large sums of money, while
concealing himself as far as possible from the
public eye. . . . We were drawn to Belaiev by
his personality, his devotion to art, and his
wealth ; not for its own sake but as the means
to an end, applied to lofty and irreproachable
aims, which made him the central attraction
of a new musical circle which had only a few
hereditary ties with the original ' invincible
band/" "

This is no doubt a sincere statement of the
relations between Belaiev and the modern
Russian school, and it is only fair to quote this
tribute to his memory. At the same time, when
the history of Russian music comes to be written
later in the century, both sides of the question
will have to be taken into consideration. My
own views on some of the disadvantages of
the patronage system I have already expressed
in the " Edinburgh Review " for July 1912,
and I venture to repeat them here :

" He who pays the piper will, directly or
indirectly, call the tune. If he be a Maecenas
of wide culture and liberal tastes he will perhaps
call a variety of tunes ; if, on the other hand, he
be a home-keeping millionaire with a narrowly
patriotic outlook he will call only for tunes that
awaken a familiar echo in his heart. So an

p

210 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

edict — maybe an unspoken one — goes forth that
a composer who expects his patronage must
always write in the ' native idiom ' ; which is
equivalent to laying down the law that a painter's
pictures will be disqualified for exhibition if
he uses more colours on his palette than those
which appear in his country's flag. Something
of this kind occurred in the ultra-national
school of music in Russia, and was realised by
some of its most fervent supporters as time
went on. It is not difficult to trace signs of
fatigue and perfunctoriness in the later works
of its representatives. At times the burden
of nationality seems to hang heavy on their
shoulders ; the perpetual burning of incense
to one ideal dulled the alertness of their artistic
sensibilities. Less grew out of that splendid
outburst of patriotic feeling in the 'sixties than
those who hailed its first manifestations had
reason to anticipate. Its bases were probably
too narrowly exclusive to support an edifice
of truly imposing dimensions. Gradually the
inevitable has happened. The younger men
threw off the restrictions of the folk-song
school, and sought new ideas from the French
symbolists, or the realism of Richard Strauss.
There is very little native idiom, although there
are still distinctive features of the national
style, in the work of such latter day composers
as Scriabin, Tcherepnin and Medtner. The

OKIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 211

physiognomy of Russian music is changing
day by day, and although it is full of interest,
one would welcome a development on larger
and more independent lines."

In 1867 Nicholas Lodyjensky joined the
circle. He was a young amateur gifted with
a purely lyrical tendency, who played the piano
remarkably well and improvised fluently. He
composed a number of detached pieces and
put together some fragments of a symphony
and an opera, on the subject of " The False
Dimitrius." Rimsky-Korsakov says his music
showed a grace and beauty of expression which
attracted the attention of the nationalist group,
especially the music for the Wedding Scene of
Dimitrius and Marina, and a setting for solo and
chorus of Lermontov's " Roussalka" (The Water
Sprite). But Lodyjensky, like Goussakovsky,
was a typical dilettante ; almost inspired, but
unable to concentrate on the completion of any
important work. After a time he dropped out
of the circle, probably because he had to earn
his living in some other way, and the strain of
a dual vocation discouraged all but the very
strongest musical spirits.1

A musician of greater reputation who was
partly attached to the nationalists was Anatol
Liadov, whose work does not include any
operatic composition.

1 In 1908 he was Russian consul at New York.

212 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Whatever the changes in the constitution
of the nationalist party, Vladimir Stassov
remained its faithful adherent through all
vicissitudes. Some account of this interesting
personality will not be out of place in a history
of Russian opera. Vladimir Vassilievich Stas-
sov, who may be called the godfather of Rus-
sian music — he stood sponsor for so many com-
positions of all kinds — was born in St. Peters-
burg, January I4th, 1825. He originally intended
to follow his father's profession and become
an architect. But eventually he was educated
at the School of Jurisprudence and afterwards
went abroad for a time. He studied art in many
centres, but chiefly in Italy, and wrote a few
articles during his travels. He returned to
St. Petersburg, having acquired a command
of many languages and laid the foundation of
his wide critical knowledge. For a time he
frequented the Imperial Public Library, St.
Petersburg, where his industry and enthusiasm
attracted the notice of the Director, Baron
Korf , who invited him to become his temporary
assistant. Subsequently Stassov entered the
service of the Library and became head of the
department of Fine Arts. This, at least, was
his title, although at the time when I knew him
his jurisdiction seemed to have no defined
limits. A man of wide culture, of strong con-
victions and fearless utterance, he was a power

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 213

in his day. Physically he had a fine appear-
ance, being a typical Russian of the old school.
The students at the Library used to call him the
Bogatyr,1 or with more irreverence the " Father/'
for he might have sat as an ideal model for the
conventional representations of the First Person
of the Trinity. Stassov's views on art were
always on the large side ; but they were some-
times extreme and paradoxical. In polemics
his methods were fierce, but not ungenerous.
He was a kind of Slavonic Dr. Samuel Johnson,
and there were times when one might as well
have tried to argue calmly with the Car of
Juggernaut. Those who were timid, inarticu-
late, or physically incapable of sustaining a long
discussion, would creep away from his too-
vigorous presence feeling baffled and hurt, and
nursing a secret resentment. This was unfortun-
ate, for Stassov loved and respected a relentless
opponent, and only those who held their own
to the bitter end enjoyed the fine experience of a
reconciliation with him. And how helpful,
considerate and generous he was in dispensing
from his rich stores of knowledge, or his modest
stores of worldly possessions, there must be
many to testify ; for his private room at the
Public Library was the highway of those in
search of counsel or assistance of any kind.

1 The Bogatyri were the heroes of ancient and legendary
days.

214 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

He had a remarkable faculty for imparting to
others a passion for work, a most beneficial
power in the days when dilettantism was one
of the worst banes of Russian society. In his
home, too, he clung to the old national ideal of
hospitality for all who needed it, and no ques-
tions asked. With all his rugged strength of
character he had moments of childlike vanity
when he loved to appear before his admiring
guests attired in the embroidered scarlet shirt,
wide velveteen knickers and high boots which
make up the holiday costume of the Russian
peasant ; or dressed like a boyard of old. With
all this, he was absolutely free from the snobbish-
ness which is sometimes an unpleasant feature
of the Russian chinovnik, or official. Naturally
many stories were related of Vladimir Stassov,
but I have only space for two short anecdotes
here. The first illustrates the Russian weakness
for hot, and often futile, discussion ; the second,
Stassov's enthusiasm for art and indifference
to social conventions.

Once he had been arguing with Tourgeniev,
whose cosmopolitan and rather supercilious atti-
tude towards the art of young Russia infuriated
the champion of nationalism. At last Tour-
geniev, wearied perhaps with what he called
" this chewing of dried grass," and suffering
acutely from rheumatic gout, showed signs of
yielding to Stassov's onslaughts. :t There/'

;MORIES OF BALAKIREVS CIRCLE 215

cried the latter triumphantly, " now I see you
agree with me ! " This acted like the dart
planted in the hide of the weary or reluctant
bull. Tour genie v sprang from his chair and
shuffled on his bandaged feet to the window,
exclaiming : " Agree with you indeed ! If I
felt I was beginning to think like you, I should
fling open the window (here he suited the action
to the word) and scream to the passers-by, ' Take
me to a lunatic asylum ! I agree with
Stassov ! ! ' "

On another occasion " Vladimir Vassilich " re-
turned late one evening from his country cottage
at Pargolovo, without troubling to change the
national dress which he usually wore there.
This costume was looked upon with disfavour
in the capital, as savouring of a too-advanced
liberalism and sympathy with the people. On
arriving home, his family reminded him that
Rubinstein was playing that night at a concert
of the I. R. M. S. and that by the time he had
changed he would be almost too late to hear
him. " I cannot miss Rubinstein/* said Vladimir
Vassilich, " I must go as I am/' In vain his
family expostulated, assuring him that " an
exalted personage " and the whole Court would
be there, and consequently he must put on more
correct attire. " / will not miss Rubinstein/'
was all the answer they got for their pains.
And Stassov duly appeared in the Salle de la

216 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Noblesse in a red shirt with an embroidery of
cocks and hens down the front. He was for-
given such breaches of etiquette for the sake of
his true nobility and loyalty of heart.

Such was the doughty champion of the
nationalists through good and evil fortune.
His writings on musical questions form only a
small part of his literary output, the result of
over sixty years of indefatigable industry ;
for he was an authority on painting, architec-
ture and design. Like Nestor, the faithful
chronicler of mediaeval Russia, he worked
early and late. He did great service to native
art by carefully collecting at the Imperial
Public Library all the original manuscript
scores of the Russian composers, their cor-
respondence, and every document that might
afterwards serve historians of the move-
ment. He was the first to write an important
monograph on Glinka, and this, together with
his book on Borodin, his exhaustive articles
on Dargomijsky and Moussorgsky, and his
general surveys of musical progress in Russia,
are indispensable sources of first-hand informa-
tion for those who would study the question
of Russian music a fonds.1 As a critic, time has
proved that, in spite of his ardent crusade on

1 Collected Works (Sobranye Sochinenie, 4 Volumes).
" Twenty-five years of Russian Art " (musical section),
Vol. I. " In the Tracks of Russian Art " (musical section),

MEMORIES OF BALAKIREV'S CIRCLE 217

behalf of modernism and nationality, his judg-
ments were usually sound ; as an historian he
was painstaking and accurate ; as regards his
appreciation of contemporary art, he showed a
remarkable flair for latent talent, and sensed
originality even when deeply overlaid by crudity
of thought and imperfect workmanship. He
was apparently the first to perceive the true
genius and power concealed under the foppish-
ness and dilettantism of Moussorgsky's early
manhood. He considered that neither Bala-
kirev, Cui, nor Rimsky-Korsakov appreciated
the composer of Boris Godounov at his full
value. He upheld him against all contemptuous
and adverse criticism, and the ultimate triumph
of Moussorgsky's works was one of the articles
in his artistic creed.

Vol. I. "A. S. Dargomijsky." "A. N. Serov." "Gabriel
Lomakin." " Perov and Moussorgsky " (Vol. II.), are among
his chief contributions to musical literature. But there are
a number of critical articles on first performances, etc.,
which cannot be enumerated here.

CHAPTER X

MOUSSORGSKY

WE have seen that Glinka and Dargomij-
sky represented two distinct tend-
encies in Russian operatic music.
The one was lyrical and idealistic ; the other
declamatory and reaJisucT^^ would seem that
Glinka's qualities were those more commonly
typical of the Russian musical temperament,
since, in the second generation of composers, his
disciples outnumbered those of Dargomijsky, who
had actually but one close adherent : Modeste
Moussorgsky. Cui, Borodin and Rimsky-Kor-
sakov were all — as we shall see when we come
to a more detailed analysis of their works-
attracted in varying degrees to melodic and
lyric opera. Although in the first flush of
enthusiasm for Dargomij sky's music-drama The
Stone Guest — which Lenz once described as " a
recitative in three acts " — the younger nation-
alists were disposed to adopt it as " the
Gospel of the New School," Moussorgsky alone
made a decisive attempt to bring into practice
the theories embodied in this work. Taking

MOUSSORGSKY 219

Dargomij sky's now famous dictum : / want the
note to be the direct representation of the word — 7
want truth and realism, as his starting-point,
Moussorgsky proceeded to carry it to a logical
conclusion. Rimsky-Korsakov speaks of his
having passed through an early phase of idealism
when he composed his Fantasia for piano " St.
John's Eve " (afterwards remodelled for orches-
tra and now known as " Night on the Bare
Mountain"), " The Destruction of Sennacherib/'
and the song " Night," to a poem by Poushkin.
But although at first he may not have been so
consciously occupied in the creation of what
Rimsky-Korsakov calls " grey music," it is
evident that no sooner had he found his feet,
technically speaking, than he gripped fast hold
of one dominant idea — the closer_j^lationship
of music with actual life. Henceforward musical
psychology became the absorbing problem of his
art, to which he devoted himself with all the
ardour of a self-confident and headstrong nature.
In a letter to Vladimir Stassov, dated October
1872, he reveals his artistic intentions in the
following words : " Assiduously to seek the
more delicate and subtle features of human
nature — of the human crowd — to follow them
into unknown regions, and make them our own :
this seems to me the true vocation of the artist.
Through the storm, past shoal and sunken
rock, make for new shores without fear, against

220 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

all hindrance ! ... In the mass of humanity,
as in the individual, there are always some subtle
impalpable features which have been passed by,
unobserved, untouched by anyone. To mark
these and study them, by reading, by actual
observation, by intuition — in other words, to
feed upon humanity as a healthy diet which
has been neglected — there lies the whole problem
of art." However greatly we may disagree with
Moussorgsky's aesthetic point of view, we
must confess that he carried out his theories
with logical sequence, and with the unflinching
courage of a clear conviction. His operas
and his songs are human documents which
bear witness to the spirit of their time as clearly
as any of the great works of fiction which were
then agitating the public conscience. In this
connection I may repeat what I have said else-
where : that " had the realistic schools of
painting and fiction never come into being
through the efforts of Perov, Repin, Dostoiev-
sky and Chernichevsky, we might still recon-
struct from Moussorgsky's works the whole
psychology of Russian life."

In order to understand his work and his
attitude towards art, it is necessary to realise
something of the period in which Moussorgsky
lived. He was a true son of his time, that

1 My article on Moussorgsky in Grove's " Dictionary of
Music."

MOUSSORGSKY

From a portrait by Refill fainted shortly before his death

MOUSSORGSKY 221

stirring time of the 'sixties which followed the
emancipation of the serfs, and saw all Russian
society agitated by the new, powerful stimulants
of individual freedom and fraternal sympathy.
Of the little group of musicians then striving
to give utterance to their freshly awakened
patriotism, none was so passionately stirred by
the literary and political movements of the time
as this born folk-composer. Every man, save
the hide-bound official, or the frivolous imitator
of Byron and Lermontov, was asking himself
in the title of the most popular novel of the
day : " What shall we do ? " And the answer
given to them was as follows : ' Throw aside
artistic and social conventions. Bring down
Art from the Olympian heights and make her
the handmaid of humanity. Seek not beauty
but truth. Go to the people. Hold oat the
hand of fellowship to the liberated masses and
learn from them the true purpose of life." The
ultra romanticism of Joukovsky and Karamzin,
the affectation of Byronism, and the all too
aristocratic demeanour of the admirers of
Poushkin, invited this reaction. Men turned
with disgust to sincere and simple things. The
poets led the way : Koltsov and Nikitin with
their songs of peasant life ; Nekrassov with his
revolt against creeds and social conventions.
The prose writers and painters followed, and
the new spirit invaded music when it found

222 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

a congenial soil in Moussorgsky's sincere and
unsophisticated nature. Of the young nation-
alist school, he was the one eminently fitted by
temperament and early education to give expres-
sion in music to this democratic and utilitarian
tendency ; this contempt for the dandyism and
dilettantism of the past generation ; and, above
all, to this deep compassion for " the humili-
ated and offended/'

Modest e Moussorgsky was born March 16/28,
1839, at Karevo, in the government of Pskov.
He was of good family, but comparatively poor.
His childhood was spent amid rural surround-
ings, and not only the music of the people,
but their characteristics, good and bad, were
impressed upon his mind from his earliest years.
He was equally conversant with the folk
literature, and often lay awake at night, his
youthful imagination over-excited by his nurse's
tales of witches, water-sprites and wood-demons.
This was the seedtime of that wonderful harvest
of national music which he gave to his race as
soon as he had shaken off the superficial
influences of the fashionable society into which
he drifted for a time. His father, who died in
I853, was not opposed to Modeste's musical
education, which was carried on at first by his
mother, an excellent pianist. The young man
entered the Preobrajensky Guards, one of the
smartest regiments in the service, before he was

MOUSSORGSKY 223

eighteen. Borodin met him for the first time
at this period of his existence and described him
hi a letter to Stassov as a typical military
dandy, playing selections from Verdi's operas
to an audience of appreciative ladies. He met
him again two or three years later, when all
traces of foppishness had disappeared, and
Moussorgsky astonished him by announcing
his intention of devoting his whole life to music ;
an announcement which Borodin did not take
seriously at the time. During the interval
Moussorgsky had been frequenting Dargomij-
sky's musical evenings, where he met Balakirev,
under whose inspiring influence he had under-
gone something like a process of conversion,
casting the slough of dandyism, and becoming
the most assiduous of workers. "

While intercourse with Dargomijsky con-
tributed to the forced maturing of Moussorg-
sky's ideas about music, the circumstances of
his life still hindered his technical development.
But he was progressing. His early letters to
Cui and Stassov show how deeply and indepen-
dently he had already thought out certain
problems of his art. Meanwhile Balakirev
carried on his musical education in a far more
effective fashion than has ever been admitted
by those who claim that Moussorgsky was
wholly self-taught, or, in other words, completely
ignorant of his craft. The " Symphonic Inter-

224 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

mezzo," composed in 1861, shows how insistent
and thorough was Balakirev's determination
that his pupils should grasp the principles of
tradition before setting up as innovators. Here
we have a sound piece of workmanship, showing
clear traces of Bach's influence ; the middle
movement, founded on a national air, being
very original in its development, but kept
strictly within classical form. His earliest oper-
atic attempt, dating from his schooldays, and
based upon Victor Hugo's " Han d'Island,"
was quite abortive as regards the music. Of
the incidental music to " CEdipus," suggested
by Balakirev, we have Stassov's testimony that
a few numbers were actually written down, and
performed at some of the friendly gatherings of
the nationalist circle ; only one, however, has
been preserved, a chorus sung by the people
outside the Temple of the Eumenides, which does
not in any way presage Moussorgsky's future
style.

Faced with the prospect of service in a
provincial garrison, Moussorgsky resolved to
leave the army in 1859. His friends, and more
particularly Stassov, begged him to reconsider
his determination ; but in vain. He had now
reached that phase of his development when
he was impatient of any duties which inter-
fered with his artistic progress. Unfortunately
poverty compelled him to accept a small post

MOUSSORGSKY 225

under the government which soon proved as
irksome as regimental life. In 1856 he fell ill
and rusticated for a couple of years on an out-
the-way country property belonging to his
Bother. During this period of rest he seems
to have found himself as a creative artist
After working for a time upon an opera founded
upon Flaubert's novel " Salammbo/' he turned
his attention to song, and during these years
produced a number of his wonderful vocal
pictures of Russian life, in its pathetic and
humorous aspects. The music which he com-
posed for Salammbo was far in advance of the
(Edipu$. Already in this work we find Mous-
sorgsky treating the people, "the human
rowd, as one of the most important elements
: opera. ' In conformity with the libretto "
says Stassov, "certain scenes were full of
dramatic movement in the style of Meyerbeer
evoking great masses of the populace at moments
intense pathos or exaltation." Much of
the music of this opera was utilised in later
works. Stassov informs us that Salammbo's
invocation to Tanit is now the recitative of the
dying Boris ; the opening of the scene in the
Temple of Moloch has become the Arioso in the
third act of .Bom Godounov ; while the Triumphal
Hymn to Moloch is utilised as the people's
chorus of acclamation to the False Demetrius
in the same opera.

Q

226 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Moussorgsky's next operatic essay took the
form which he described as " opera dialogue."
The subject — Gogol's prose comedy " The Match-
Maker " — was admirably suited to him, and he
started upon the work full of enthusiasm for the
task. His methods are shown in a letter written
to Cesar Cui in the summer of 1868, in which he
says : "I am endeavouring as far as possible
to observe very clearly the changes of intona-
tion made by the different characters in the
course of conversation ; and made, so it ap-
pears, for trifling reasons, and on the most
insignificant words. Here, in my opinion, lies
the secret of Gogol's powerful humour. . . .
How true is the saying : ' the farther we pene-
trate into the forest the more trees we find ! '
How subtle Gogol is ! He has observed old
women and peasants and discovered the
most fascinating types. . . . All this is very
useful to me ; the types of old women are
really precious/' Moussorgsky abandoned The
Match-Maker after completing the first act.
This was published by Bessel, in 1911, under
the editorship of Rimsky-Korsakov, and con-
tains the following note : "I leave the rights
in this work of my pupilage unconditionally
and eternally to my dear Vladimir Vassilie-
vich Stassov on this his birthday, January
2nd, 1873. (Signed) Modeste Moussoryanin, alias
Moussorgsky. Written with a quill pen in

MOUSSORGSKY 227

Stassov's flat, Mokhovaya, House Melnikov,
amid a considerable concourse of people."

" The said MOUSSORGSKY."
Moussorgsky originally designated this work
as " an attempt at dramatic music set to prose."
The fragment, with its sincere and forcible
declamation, is interesting as showing a phase
in the evolution of his genius immediately
preceding the composition of Boris Godounov.
The four scenes which it comprises consist
of conversations on the subject of marriage
carried on between four sharply defined and
contrasted characters : Podkolessin, a court
councillor and petty official in the Civil Service ;
Kocharev, his friend ; Tekla Ivanovna, a pro-
fessional match-maker, and Stepan, Podkoles-
sin's servant. Rimsky-Korsakov, who often
heard the music sung and played by its author,
says in his preface to the work that it should
be executed a piacere ; that is to say, that for
each individual a particular and characteristic
tempo must be observed : for Podkolessin — a
good-natured, vain and vacillating creature — a
slow and lazy time throughout ; a more rapid
movement for his energetic friend Kocharev,
who literally pushes him into matrimony ; for
the Match-maker a moderate tempo, somewhat
restrained, but alert ; and for Stepan rather a
slow time. Stassov thought highly of this
work, and believed that as traditional prejudices

228 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

vanished, and opera became a more natural
form of art, this prose comedy, the music of
which fits closely as a glove to every passing
feeling and gesture suggested by the text, would
come to be highly appreciated.

One more unfinished opera engages our
attention before we pass on to consider Mous-
sorgsky's two masterpieces. Fragments, con-
sisting of an introduction and several " Comic
Scenes/' based upon Gogol's "The Fair at
Sorochinsi," have been recently published by
Bessel, with Russian text only. The subject
is peculiarly racy and the humour not very
comprehensible to those ignorant of Malo-
Russian life ; but the music, though primitive,
is highly characteristic, and may be commended
to the notice of all who wish to study Mous-
sorgsky in as full a light as possible.

The idea of basing a music-drama on Poush-
kin's tragedy " Boris Godounov " was sug-
gested by Prof. Nikolsky. From September
1868, to June 1870, Moussorgsky was engaged
upon this work. Each act as it was finished
was tried in a small circle of musical friends,
the composer singing all the male roles in turn,
while Alexandra Pourgold (afterwards Mme.
Molas) created the women's parts. Dargomij-
sky, who heard a portion of it before his death
in 1869, declared that Moussorgsky had entirely
surpassed him in his own sphere.

MOUSSORGSKY 229

Boris Godounov was rejected by the Direction
of the Imperial Opera on the ground that it gave
too little opportunity to the soloists. The
unusual form of the opera, the bold treatment
of a dramatic, but unpopular, episode in national
history, and the democratic sentiment displayed
in making the People the protagonist in several
scenes of the work, were probably still stronger
reasons for the attitude of disapproval always
shown by the " powers that be " towards Boris
Godounov. Very unwillingly, yielding only to the
entreaties of his friends, the composer consented
to make some important changes in his work.
The original plan of the opera consisted of the
folio wing scenes: The crowd awaiting the election
of Boris, and his Coronation ; Pimen in his cell ;
the scene in the Inn, on the Lithuanian frontier ;
Boris and his children, and the interview with
Shouisky ; the scene in the Duma, and the
death of Boris ; the peasant revolt, and the
entry of the Pretender. It will be seen that the
feminine element was curiously neglected. The
additional scenes, composed on the advice
of Stassov and the distinguished Russian archi-
tect V. Hartmann, were partially designed to
rectify this omission. They include the scenes
in the house of the Polish grandee Mnishek ; the
song of the Hostess of the Inn ; portions of the
first scene of Act I. ; the episodes of the Chiming
Clock and the Parrakeet ; also some fine passages

230 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

in the scene between Pimen and Gregory (Scene
i, Act II.). Portions of Boris were given at
Kondratiev's benefit, at the Maryinski Theatre,
in February, 1873, but the production of the
opera in its entirety was delayed until January
24th, 1874. How often has Stassov described
to me the excitement of the days that followed !
The old-fashioned subscribers to the Opera
sulked at this interruption to its routine ; the
pedants of the Conservatoire raged ; the critics
— Moussorgsky had already satirised them in
" The Peepshow " — baffled, and consequently
infuriated, " foamed at the mouth." So stupid
were the intrigues organised against Boris that
some wreaths offered by groups of young people
and bearing messages of enthusiastic homage
to the composer, were intercepted at the doors
of the opera house and sent to Moussorgsky's
private residence, in order to suppress a public
recognition of his obnoxious genius. For it
was the young generation that took Boris
straight to their hearts, and in spite of all
organised opposition, the work had twenty per-
formances, the house being always crowded ;
while students sang the choruses from the opera
as they went home through the streets at mid-
night.

While this controversy was raging, Mous-
sorgsky was already occupied with a new music-
drama upon an historical subject, suggested to

SHALIAMN AS BORIS GODOUNOV

MOUSSORGSKY 231

him by Stassov, dealing with the tragic story
of the Princes Khovansky and the rising of the
old Archers-of-the-Guard — the Streltsy. He
was full of confidence in his project, and just
before the first performance of Boris in 1873,
wrote to Stassov in the following characteristic
strain : " Now for judgment ! It is jolly to
feel that we are actually thinking of and living
for Khovanstchina while we are being tried for
Boris. Joyfully and daringly we look to the
distant musical horizon that lures us onward,
and are not afraid of the verdict. They will
say : ' You are violating all laws, human and
divine ' ; and we shall reply, ' Yes ' ; thinking
to ourselves, ' so we shall again.' They will
warn us, ' You will soon be forgotten for ever
and a day ' ; and we shall answer, ' Non, non,
et non, madame." This triumphant moment
in Moussorgsky's life was fleeting. Boris
Godounov was not suffered to become a
repertory opera, but was thrust aside for long
periods. Its subsequent revivals were usually
due to some star artist who liked the title-role
and insisted on performing the work on his
benefit night ; and also to private enterprise.
In 1871 Moussorgsky shared rooms with
Rimsky-Korsakov until the marriage of the
latter in 1873. Then he took up his abode with
the gifted poet Count Golenishtiev-Koutouzov,
whose idealistic and mystical tendencies were

232 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

not without influence on the champion of realism,
as may be seen from the two song-cycles,
" Without sunshine " and " Songs and dances
of death/' composed to his verses. ' The
Nursery," a series of children's songs, the " Pic-
tures from an exhibition/' inspired by Hart-
mann's drawings, and the orchestral piece,
" Night on the Bare Mountain," date from this
period. Meanwhile the stress of poverty and
the growing distaste for his means of livelihood
—a singularly unsuitable official appointment —
were telling on his health. Feeling, perhaps,
that his time on earth was short, he worked with
feverish energy. Finally, some friction with
the authorities ended in his resigning his post
in 1879, and undertaking a tour in South Russia
with the singer, Madame Leonova. The appre-
ciation shown to him during this journey afforded
him some moments of happiness ; but his con-
stitution was hopelessly shattered, and in 1880
he was obliged to rest completely. A series of
terrible nervous attacks compelled him at last
to take refuge in the Nicholas Military Hospital,
where he died on his forty-second birthday,
March 16/28, of paralysis of the heart and the
spinal marrow.

The historical drama " Boris Godounov " was
one of the fruits of the poet Poushkin's exile at
Mikhailovsky in 1824. Virtually imprisoned
on his father's estate to repent at leisure some

MOUSSORGSKY 233

youthful delinquencies, moral and political,
Poushkin occupied his time with the study of
Karamzin's History of Russia and Shakespeare's
plays. " Boris Godounov " marks a transition
from the extreme influence of Byron to that of
the creator of " Macbeth." Ambition coupled
with remorse is the moving passion of the
tragedy. The insane cruelty of Ivan the Ter-
rible deprived Russia of almost every strong and
independent spirit with the exception of the
sagacious and cautious Boyard, Boris Godou-
nov, the descendant of a Tatar family. Brother-
in-law and Regent of Ivan's weak-witted heir,
Feodor, Boris was already, to all intents and
purposes, ruler of Russia before ambition whis-
pered that he might actually wear the crown.
Only the Tsarevich Dmitri, a child of six, stood
between him and the fulfilment of his secret
desire. In 1581 Dmitri was murdered, and
suspicion fell upon Boris, who cleverly excul-
pated himself, and in due course was chosen to
succeed Feodor. He reigned wisely and with
authority ; but his Nemesis finally appeared
in the person of the monk Gregory, the False
Demetrius, whose pretentions were eagerly sup-
ported by the Poles. Boris, unhinged by the
secret workings of conscience, was brought to
the verge of madness just at the moment when
the people — who had never quite resigned them-
selves to a ruler of Tatar origin — wavered in

234 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

their allegiance. Urged by Rome, the Poles
took advantage of the situation to advance upon
Moscow. At this critical juncture Boris was
seized with a fatal illness. The Tsars, as we
know, may appoint their own successors ;
Boris with his last breath nominated his son
(also a Feodor), and died in his fifty-sixth year,
in April 1605.

/The intellectual power and fine workmanship
which Poushkin displayed in " Boris Godounov "
entitle this drama to rank as a classic in Russian
literature. It contains moments of forcible
eloquence, and those portions of the play which
deal with the populace are undoubtedly the
strongest. Here Poushkin disencumbers him-
self of all theatrical conventions, and shows not
only accurate knowledge of the national tem-
perament, but profound observation of human
nature as a whole. Such a subject accorded
well with Moussorgsky's genius, which, as we
have seen, was eminently democratic. .

Moussorgsky arranged his own text for Boris
Godounov, retaining Poushkin's words intact
wherever that was practicable, and simplifying,
remodelling, or adding to the original material
when necessary. The result is a series of living-
pictures from Russian history, somewhat dis-
connected if taken apart from the music, which
is the coagulating element of the work. The
welding of these widely contrasting scenes is

MOUSSORGSKY 235

effected partially by the use of recurrent leading
motives, but chiefly by a remarkable homo-
geneity of musical style. Moussorgsky, as may
be proved from his correspondence, was con-
sciously concerned to find appropriate musical
phrases with which to accompany certain ideas
in the course of opera ; but he does not use
leading motives with the persistency of Wagner.
No person or thing is labelled in Boris Godounov,
and we need no thematic guide to thread our
way through the psychological maze of the work.
There is one motive that plays several parts
in the music-drama. Where it occurs on page
49 of the pianoforte score of 1908 (just after
Pimen's words to Gregory : " He would now
be your age, and should be Tsar to-day "),
it evokes the memory of the murdered Tsare-
vich Dmitri ; but it also enters very subtly
into the soul-states of the impostor who imper-
sonates him, and those of the remorseful Boris.
There are other characteristic phrases for Boris,
suggesting his tenderness for his children and
his ruthless ambition.

The opera opens with a prologue in which the
people are gathered in the courtyard of the
many-towered monastery of Novo-Dievichy at
Moscow, whither Boris had withdrawn after
the assassination of the Tsarevich. The crowd
moves to and fro in a listless fashion ; it hardly
knows why it is there, but hopes vaguely that

236 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the election of a new ruler may bring some
amelioration of its sad lot. Meanwhile the
astute Boris shows no unseemly haste to snatch
at the fruit of his crime. The simplicity and
economy of means with which Moussorgsky
produces precisely the right musical atmosphere
is very striking. The constable enters, and
with threats and blows galvanises the weary
and indifferent throng into supplications ad-
dressed to Boris. The secretary of the Duma
appears, and announces that Boris refuses the
crown ; the crowd renews its entreaties. When
the pilgrims enter, the people wake to real
life, pressing around them, and showing that
their enthusiasm is for spiritual rather than for
temporal things. In the second scene, which
shows the coronation procession across the Red
Square in the Kremlin, the Song of Praise
(Slavsia) is sung with infinitely greater hearti-
ness ; for now the Tsar comes into personal
contact with his people. The scenes of the
Prologue and the Coronation move steadily
on, just as they would do in real life ; there is
scarcely a superfluous bar of musical accompani-
ment, and the ordinary operatic conventions
being practically non-existent, we are completely
convinced by the realism of the spectacle and
the strangely new, undisciplined character of
the music. The truth is forcibly brought home
to us of M. Camille Bellaigue's assertion that

MOUSSORGSKY 237

every collective thought, or passion, needs not
only words, but music, if we are to become com-
pletely sensible to it.

The text of the opening scene of Act I. is
taken almost intact from Poushkin's drama.
Played as it now usually is between the strenu-
ous animation of the Prologue and the brilliant
Coronation Scene, its pervading atmosphere
of dignity and monastic calm affords a welcome
interlude of repose. Moussorgsky handles his
ecclesiastical themes with sure knowledge. In
early days Stassov tells us that he learnt from
the chaplain of the Military Academy " the very
essence of the old Church music, Greek and
Catholic/' The scene in the Inn, where Gregory
and the vagabond monks, Varlaam and Missail,
halt on their flight into Lithuania, is often cut
out of the acting version. It contains, however,
two characteristic and popular solos : a lively
folk-song for the Hostess, and a rollicking drink-
ing-song for Varlaam (bass) ; besides frequent
touches of the rough-hewn, sardonic humour
which is a distinguishing quality of Mous-
sorgsky's genius. The unabashed " naturalism "
of this scene displeased a fashionable Russian
audience ; although it was found possible to
present it to a London audience which must
have travelled much farther from the homely
ribaldry of Elizabethan days than had the
simple-minded " big public " of Russia to

238 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

whom Moussorgsky's work was designed to
appeal a generation ago.

With the opening of Act II. we feel at once
that Moussorgsky is treading on alien ground.
This portion of the opera — for which he was his
own librettist — was added in order that some
conventional love interest might be given to
the work. The glamour of romance is a bor-
rowed quality in Moussorgsky's art ; and, in
spite of the charm of the scenic surroundings,
and some moments of sincere passion, the weak-
ness of the music proclaims the fact. He. who
penetrates so deeply into the psychology of his
own people, finds no better characterisation of
the Polish temperament than the use of the
polacca or mazurka rhythms. True, he may
intend by these dance measures to emphasise
the boastful vanity of the Polish nobles and
the light, cold nature of Marina Mnishek ; but
the method becomes monotonous. Marina's
solo takes this form, and again in the duet by
the fountain we are pursued by the eternal
mazurka rhythm.

The second scene of Act II. is packed full
of varied interest, and in every episode Mous-
sorgsky is himself again. The lively dancing-
songs for the young Tsarevich and the Nurse
are interrupted by the sudden entry of Boris.
In the scene which follows, where the Tsar for-
gets for a moment the cares of State and the

MOUSSORGSKY 239

sting of conscience, and gives himself whole-
heartedly to his children, there is some exqui-
sitely tender music, and we begin for the first
time to feel profound pity for the usurper. The
Tsarevich's recital of the incident of the para-
keet, reproducing with the utmost accuracy
and transparent simplicity the varied inflec-
tions of the child's voice, as he relates his tale
without a trace of self-consciousness, is equal
to anything of the kind which Moussorgsky
has achieved in " The Nursery " song cycle.
This delightful interlude of comedy gives place
on the entrance of Shouisky to the first shadows
of approaching tragedy. Darker and darker
grows the mind of the Tsar, until the scene ends
in an almost intolerable crisis of madness and
despair. From the moment of Boris's terrible
monologue the whole atmosphere of the work
becomes vibrant with terror and pity. But
realistic as the treatment may be, it is a realism
—like that of Shakespeare or Webster — that
is exalted and vivified by a fervent and forceful
imagination.

In the opening scene of Act III., enacted
amid a winter landscape in the desolate forest
of Kromy, Moussorgsky has concentrated all
his powers for the creation of a host of national
types who move before our eyes in a dazzling
kaleidoscopic display. They are not attractive
these revolted and revolting peasants, revenging

240 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

themselves upon the wretched aristocrat who
has fallen into their hands ; for Moussorgsky,
though he raises the Folk to the dignity of a
protagonist, never idealises it, or sets it on a
pedestal. But our pulses beat with the emotions
of this crowd, and its profound groan of anguish
finds an echo in our hearts. It is a living and
terrible force, and beside it all other stage
crowds seem mechanical puppets. In the fore-
ground of this shifting mass is seen the village
idiot, * God's fool/ teased by the thoughtless
children, half-reverenced, half-pitied, by the
men and women. After the False Demetrius
has passed through the forest, drawing the
crowd in his wake, the idiot is left sitting alone
in the falling snow. He sings his heart-breaking
ditty : " Night and darkness are at hand.
Woe to Russia ! " and the curtain falls to the
sound of his bitter, paroxysmal weeping.

The last scene is pregnant with the " horror
that awaits on princes." The climax is built
up step by step. After the lurking insanity
of Boris, barely curbed by the presence of the
Council ; after his interview with Pimen, who
destroys his last furtive hope that the young
Tsarevich may not have been murdered after
all ; after his access of mental and physical
agony, and his parting with his beloved son-
it is with a feeling of relief that we see death
put an end to his unbearable sufferings.

MOUSSORGSKY 241

Although Khovanstchina may in some ways
approach more nearly to the conventional ideal
of opera, yet foreigners, I think, will find it
more difficult to understand than Boris Godounov.
To begin with it lacks the tragic dominant
figure, swayed by such universal passions as
ambition, remorse, and paternal tenderness,
which gives a psychological unity to the earlier
work. Here the dramatic interest is more
widely dispersed ; it is as though Moussorgsky
sought to crowd into this series of historical^
pictures as many different types of seventeenth-
century Russia as possible ; and these types
are peculiarly national. Except that it breaks
through the rigid traditions of Byzantine art,
the figures being full of vitality, Khovanst-
china reminds us of those early ikons belonging
to the period when the transport of pictures
through the forests, bogs, and wildernesses of
Russia so restricted their distribution, that the
religious painter resorted to the expedient of
representing on one canvas as many saints as
could be packed into it.

Stassov originated the idea of utilising the
dramatic conflict between old and new Russia
at the close of the seventeenth century as the
subject of a music-drama. It was his inten-
tion to bring into relief a group of representa-
tive figures of the period : Dositheus, head of
the sect known as the Rasskolniki, or Old

R

242 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Believers,1 a man of lofty character and prophetic
insight ; Ivan Khovansky, typical of fanatical,
half-oriental and conservative Russia ; Galitsin,
the westernised aristocrat, who dreams of a
new Russia, reformed on European lines ; two
contrasting types of womanhood, both belonging
to the Old Believers — the passionate, mystical
Martha, falling and redeeming herself through
the power of love, and Susan, in whom fanaticism
has dried up the well-springs of tenderness and
sympathy ; the dissolute young Andrew Khov-
ansky, ardently attracted by the pure, sweet
young German girl, Emma ; the egotistical
Scrivener, who has his humorous side ; the
fierce Streltsy, and the oppressed and suffering
populace — " all these elements/' says Stassov,
" seemed to suggest characters and situations
which promised to be intensely stirring." It
was also part of his original design to bring upon
the scene the young Tsar, Peter the Great, and
the Regent, the Tsarevna Sophia. But much
of Stassov's original scenarium had perforce
to be dropped ; partly because it would have
resulted in the building up of a work on an
unpractically colossal scale, but also because

1 In the reign of Alexis the revision of the Bible carried
out by the Patriarch Nicon (1655) resulted in a great
schism in the Orthodox Church, a number of people
clinging to the old version of the Scriptures in spite of the
errors it contained. Thus was formed the sect of the Old
Believers which still exists in Russia.

MOUSSORGSKY 243

Moussorgsky's failing health spurred him on
to complete the drama at all costs. Had he
lived a few years longer, he would probably
have made of Khovanstchina a far better bal-
anced and a more polished work.

From the musical point of view there is un-
doubtedly more symmetry and restraint in
Khovanstchina than in Boris. We are often
impressed by the almost classic simplicity of the
music. A great deal of the thematic material
is drawn from ecclesiastical sources.

Khovanstchina opens with an orchestral Pre-
lude, descriptive of daybreak over Moscow,
than which nothing in Russian music is more
intensely or touchingly national in feeling.
The curtain rises upon the Red Square in the
Kremlin, just as the rising sun catches the
domes of the churches, and the bells ring for
early matins. A group of Streltsy relate the
havoc they have worked during the preceding
night. The Scrivener, a quaint type of the
period, appears on the scene and is roughly
chaffed. When the Streltsy depart, the Boyard
Shaklovity enters and bribes the Scrivener
to write down his denunciation of the Khov-
anskys. No sooner is this done, than the elder
Khovansky and his suite arrive, attended by
the Streltsy and the populace. In virtue of
his office as Captain of the Old Guard, the
arrogant nobleman assumes the airs of a

244 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

sovereign, and issues autocratic commands, while
the people, impressed by his grandeur, sing him
a song of flattery. When the crowd has departed
the Lutheran girl, Emma, runs in, hotly pur-
sued by the younger Khovansky. She tries
in vain to rid herself of his hateful attentions.
At the climax of this scene, Martha, the young
Rasskolnik whom Prince Andrew has already
loved and betrayed, comes silently upon the
stage and saves Emma from his embraces.
Martha approaches Andrew, who tries to stab
her ; but she parries the blow, and in one of her
ecstatic moods prophesies his ultimate fate.
The elder Khovansky and his followers now
return, and the Prince inquires into the cause
of the disturbance. Prince Ivan admires Emma
and orders the Streltsy to arrest her ; but
Andrew, mad with jealousy, declares she shall
not be taken alive. At this juncture Dositheus
enters, rebukes the young man's violence, and
restores peace.

Act II. shows us Prince Galitsin reading a
letter from the Tsarevna Sophia, with whom
he has formerly had a love-intrigue. In spite
of his western education Galitsin is superstitious.
The scene which follows, in which Martha,
gazing into a bowl of water, as into a crystal,
foretells his downfall and banishment, is one
of the most impressive moments in the work.
Galitsin, infuriated by her predictions, orders

MOUSSORGSKY 245

his servants to drown Martha on her homeward
way. A long scene, devoted to a dispute between
Galitsin and Khovansky, is rather dry. Dosi-
theus again acts as peacemaker.

Act III. takes place in the quarter of Moscow
inhabited by the Streltsy. Martha, seated
near the house of Andrew Khovansky, recalls
her passion for him in a plaintive folk-song.
The song closes with one of her prophetic
allusions to the burning of the Old Believers.
Susan, the old fanatic, overhears Martha and
reproves her for singing " shameless songs of
love/' She threatens to have her brought before
the Brethren and tried as a witch ; but Dosi-
theus intervenes and sends Susan away, terrified
at the idea that she is the prey of evil spirits.
Night falls, and the stage is empty. Enter
Shaklovity, who sings of the sorrows of his
country in an aria that is one of the most
beautiful things in the music-drama. The next
scene is concerned with the Streltsy, who
march in to a drinking song. They encounter
their womenfolk, who, unlike the terrified popu-
lace of Moscow, have no hesitation in falling
upon them and giving them a piece of their
mind. Undoubtedly the Streltsy were not
ideal in their domestic relations. While they
are quarrelling, the Scrivener comes in breathless,
and announces the arrival of foreign troopers and
Peter the Great's bodyguard, " the Petrovtsy."

246 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

The cause of Old Russia is lost. Sobered and fear-
ful, the Streltsy put up a prayer to Heaven,
for the religious instinct lurks in every type of
the Russian people, and even these savage
creatures turn devout at a moment's notice.

In Act IV. the curtain rises upon a hall in
Prince Ivan Khovansky's country house, where
he is taking his ease, diverted by the songs of
his serving-maids and the dances of his Persian
slaves. Shaklovity appears, and summons him
to attend the Tsarevna's Council. As Khov-
ansky in his robes of ceremony is crossing the
threshold, he is stabbed, and falls with a great
cry. The servants disperse in terror, but
Shaklovity lingers a moment to mock the corpse
of his enemy. The scene now changes to the
open space in front of the fantastic church of
Vassily Blajeny, and Galitsin is seen on his way
to exile, escorted by a troop of cavalry. When
he has gone by, Dositheus soliloquises on the
state of Russia. Martha comes in and tells
him that the foreign mercenaries have orders
to surround the Old Believers in their place
of assemblage and put them all to death.
Dositheus declares that they will sooner perish
in self-ignited flames, willing martyrs for their
faith. He enjoins Martha to bring Prince
Andrew among them. During the meeting
between Martha and Andrew, the young Prince
implores her to bring back Emma, and learning

SHALIAPIN AS DOSITHEUS IN " KHOVANSTCHINA '

MOUSSORGSKY 247

that the girl is safely married to her lover, he
curses Martha for a witch, and summons his
Streltsy to put her to death. In vain the Prince
blows his horn, his only reply is the hollow
knelling of the bell called " Ivan Veliky." Pres-
ently the Streltsy enter, carrying axes and blocks
for their own execution. At the last moment
a herald proclaims that Peter has pardoned
them, and they may return to their homes.

In the fifth and last Act the Old Believers
are assembled by moonlight at their hermitage
in the woods near Moscow. Dositheus encour-
ages his followers to remain true to their vows.
Martha prays that she may save Andrew's
soul by the power of her love for him. Pres-
ently she hears him singing an old love song
which echoes strangely amid all this spiritual
tension. By sheer force of devotion she induces
him to mount the pyre which the Brethren,
clothed in their white festal robes, have built
up close at hand. The trumpets of the troopers
are heard drawing nearer, and Martha sets
a light to the pyre. The Old Believers sing a
solemn chant until they are overpowered by
the flames. When the soldiers appear upon the
scene, they fall back in horror before this
spectacle of self-immolation ; while the trumpets
ring out arrogantly, as though proclaiming
the passing of the old faith and ideals and the
dawning of a new day for Russia.

248 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

" My first introduction to the works of Mous-
sorgsky came through Vladimir Stassov. To-
gether we went through the earlier edition of
Boris Godounov (1875), and Khovanstchina,
already issued with Rimsky-Korsakov's revi-
sions. ' There is more vitality in Moussorgsky
than in any of our contemporary composers/
Stassov would declare to me in my first moments
of doubtful enthusiasm. ' These operas will
go further afield than the rest, and you will see
their day, when I shall no longer be here to
follow their fortunes in Western Europe/ How
surely his predictions regarding this, and other
questions, were destined to be fulfilled is a fact
borne in upon me every year that I live and work
in the world of music. Later on he gave me
the new edition of Boris (1896), edited by the
composer's life-long friend, who was in some de-
gree his teacher — Rimsky-Korsakov. Theoreti-
cally, Stassov was fully opposed to these
editorial proceedings ; for, while admitting
Moussorgsky's technical limitations, and his
tendency to be slovenly in workmanship, he
thought it might be better for the world to see
this original and inspired composer with all his
faults ruthlessly exposed to view, than clothed
and in his right mind with the assistance of
Rimsky-Korsakov. Stassov's attitude to Mous-
sorgsky reminds me of the Russian vagabond
who said to Mr. Stephen Graham : ' Love

MOUSSORGSKY 249

us while we are dirty, for when we are clean all
the world will love us/ We who loved Mous-
sorgsky's music in spite of all its apparent
dishevelment may not unnaturally resent Rim-
sky-Korsakov's conscientious grooming of it.
But when it actually came to the question of
producing the operas, even Stassov, I am sure,
realised the need for practical revisions, without
which Moussorgsky's original scores, with all
their potential greatness, ran considerable risk
of becoming mere archaeological curiosities.
In 1908 Bessel published a later edition of
Boris, restoring the scenes cut out of the version
of 1896. This is the edition now generally
used ; the first one, on which I was educated,
having become somewhat of a rarity/' l

At the present moment it is impossible to
write of Moussorgsky's operas without touching
on this vexed question of Rimsky-Korsakov's
right to improve upon the original drafts of his
friend's works, since it is daily agitating the
musical press of Russia and Paris.

Throughout his whole life, it was Rimsky-
Korsakov's lot to occupy at frequent intervals
the most delicate, difficult and thankless posi-
tion which can well be thrust upon a man, when,
time after time, he was asked to complete works
left unfinished in consequence of the illness,

1 Quoted from an article by me, " Moussorgsky's
Operas," in the "Musical Times," July ist, 1913.

250 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

untimely death, or incompetence of their authors.
That he attacked this altruistic work in a self-
sacrificing and perfectly honest spirit cannot
for a moment be doubted by anyone who knew
him personally. But his temperament was not
pliable, and as time went on and his aesthetic
theories became more set, it grew increasingly
difficult for him to see a work in any light but
that of his own clearly illumined orderly vision.
The following conversation between himself
and V. Yastrebtsiev — if it contains no note of
exaggeration — shows the uncompromising view
which he took of his editorial duties. In 1895
he had expressed his intention of writing a
purely critical article on " the merits and
demerits of Boris Godounov." But a year
later he changed his mind, because he said :
" a new revised pianoforte score and a new
orchestral score will be a more eloquent testi-
mony to future generations of my views on this
work, not only as a whole, but as regards the
details of every bar ; the more so, because in
this transcription of the opera for orchestra,
personality is not concerned, and I am only
doing that which Moussorgsky himself ought
to have done, but which he did not understand
how to carry out, simply because of his lack of
technique as a composer. I maintain that in
my intention to reharmonise and re-orchestrate
this great opera of Moussorgsky there is certainly

MOUSSORGSKY 251

nothing for which I can be blamed ; in any case
I impute no sin to myself. And now," he con-
cluded, " when I have finished my revisions
of Boris and Sadko it will be necessary to go
through the entire score of Dargomij sky's The
Stone Guest (which was orchestrated by me),
and should I find anything in the instrumenta-
tion which seems to me not good (and I think
I shall find much) I will correct it, in order that
in the future none will be able to reproach me
with carelessness as regards the works of others.
Only when I have revised the whole of Mous-
sorgsky's works shall I begin to be at peace and
feel that my conscience is clear ; for then I shall
have done all that can and ought to be done for
his compositions and his memory."1

Rimsky-Korsakov was a noble and devoted
friend, but he was before all things a craftsman
of the highest excellence. When it came to a
question of what he believed to be an offence
against art, he saved his friend's musical soul
at the expense of his individuality. We have
therefore to weigh his close personal know-
ledge of Moussorgsky's aims and technical in-
capacity against the uncompromising musical
rectitude which guided his editorial pen. When
the question arises whether we are to hear
Moussorgsky according to Rimsky-Korsakov,

1 Published by V. Yastrebtsiev in the Moscow weekly,
'Musika." No. 135, June 22 (O.S.), 1913.

252 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

or according to Diaghilev-Ravel-Stravinsky,
for my own part, having grown accustomed
to the versions of Rimsky-Korsakov — which
still leave in the operas so much of Mous-
sorgsky's essential genius that they have not
hitherto failed in their profound psychological
impression — I feel considerable doubt as to the
wisdom of flying from them to evils that we
know not of. For, after all, Rimsky-Korsakov
was no purblind pedant, but a gifted musician
with an immense experience of what was feasible
on the operatic stage and of all that could
militate against the success of a work.

CHAPTER XI

BORODIN AND CUI

WITH Borodin we return to a position
midway between the original type
of national lyric opera which Glinka
inaugurated in A Life for the Tsar and the
dramatic realism of Moussorgsky.

Alexander Porphyrievich Borodin, born at
St. Petersburg in 1834, was the illegitimate son
of a Prince of Imeretia, one of the fairest of the
Georgian provinces which the Russian General
Todleben rescued from Turkish occupation in
1770. The reigning princes of Imeretia boasted
that they were direct descendants of King David
the Psalmist, and quartered the harp and sling
in their arms. Borodin's education was chiefly
confided to his mother. As a boy, his capacities
were evenly balanced between music and science,
but, having to make his living, he decided in
favour of the latter and became a distinguished
professor of chemistry at the College of Medicine
in St. Petersburg. As regards music, he re-
mained until his twenty-eighth year merely
an intelligent amateur. He played the piano,

254 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the violoncello and the flute, all with some
facility ; he wrote a few songs and enjoyed
taking part in Mendelssohn's chamber music.
It is clear that until he met Balakirev in 1862
there was never any serious conflict between
duty and inclination. Borodin was a man of
sane and optimistic temperament* which dis-
posed him to be satisfied with the career he had
chosen, in which he seemed destined for unusual
success. Unlike Tchaikovsky, who felt himself
an alien among the bureaucrats and minor
officials with whom he was associated in the
Ministry of Justice, Borodin was genuinely
interested in his work. But no one with a spark
of artistic enthusiasm could pass under Bala-
kirev's influence and be the same man as before.
Within a short time of their first meeting, the
story of Cui and Moussorgsky was repeated in
Borodin. All his leisure was henceforth con-
secrated to the serious study of music. Har-
mony and musical analysis he worked up under
Balakirev ; and all his contemporaries agree
in asserting that counterpoint came to him by
intuition. His early marriage to a woman of
considerable talent as a musician was an im-
portant factor in his artistic development.

Borodin's youth had been spent chiefly in
cities ; consequently he did not start life with
that intimate knowledge of the folk-music which
Balakirev and Moussorgsky had acquired. But

BORODIN AND GUI 255

his perception was so quick and subtle, that
no sooner had his attention been called to
the national element in music than he began
to use it with mastery. This is already notice-
able in his first Symphony, in E flat major.
This work is not free from the faults of inexperi-
ence, but it displays all the potential qualities
of Borodin's talent — poetical impulse, a fine
taste, an originality which is not forced, and a
degree of technical facility that is astonishing,
when we realise that music was merely the
occupation of his rare leisure hours.

Stassov saw in Borodin the making of a true
national poet, and encouraged his secret ambi-
tion to compose an epic opera. He first took up
the subject of Mey's drama " The Tsar's Bride ; "
but his progress was so frequently interrupted
that his interest flagged. It needed a subject
of unusual attraction to keep him faithful amid
many professional preoccupations to such a
long and difficult task. But in 1869 Stassov
believed he had found an ideal source from which
to draw the libretto of a great national opera,
and sketched out a rough plot which he per-
suaded Borodin to consider. It is not easy
to convey to those who have not studied the
early Slavonic literature any just and clear
idea of the national significance of " The Epic
of the Army of Igor." The original manuscript
of this Rhapsody or Saga was bought from a

256 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

monk by Count Moussin-Poushkin as late as
1795, and published by him in 1800. Unfor-
tunately the original document was among
the many treasures which perished in the burn-
ing of Moscow in 1812. Its authenticity has
since been the cause of innumerable disputes.
Many scholars, including the late Professor of
Slavonic languages at Oxford, Mr. W. R.
Morfill, have been disposed to regard it as
one of those many ingenious frauds — like the
Poems of Ossian — which were almost a feature
of literary history in the eighteenth century.
Others affirm that all the Russian poets of the
eighteenth century put together had not suffi-
cient imagination to have produced a single line
of " The Epic of Igor/' In any case, it so far
surpasses in interest most of the mediaeval
Slavonic chronicles that it has taken a strong hold
on the popular imagination, and the majority
prefer to believe in its genuine origin in spite
of differences of opinion among the learned.
In order to give some idea of its significance
and interest, perhaps I may compare it — in
certain respects — with the Arthurian Legends.
The period is of course much later — the close of
the twelfth century.

The book of Prince Igor, planned by Stassov
and written by Borodin, runs as follows :

The Prologue takes place in the market-place
of Poultivle, the residence of Igor, Prince of

BORODIN AND GUI 257

Seversk. The Prince and his army are about
to start in pursuit of the Polovtsy, an Oriental
tribe of Tatar origin. Igor wishes to meet his
enemies in the plains of the Don, whither they
have been driven by a rival Russian prince,
Sviatoslav of Kiev. An eclipse of the sun
darkens the heavens, and at this fatal passage
the people implore Igor to postpone his expedi-
tion. But the Prince is resolute. He departs
with his youthful son Vladimir Igorievich,
commending his wife Yaroslavna to the care
of his brother-in-law, Prince Galitsky, who
remains to govern Poultivle, in the absence of
its lord. The first scene depicts the treachery
and misrule of this dissolute nobleman, who tries
to win over the populace with the assistance of
two deserters from Igor's army. Eroshka and
Skoula are players on the goudok, or rebeck,
types of the gleemen, or minnesingers, of that
period. They are the comic villains of the
opera. In the second scene of Act I. some
young girls complain to the Princess Yaro-
slavna of the abduction of one of their com-
panions, and implore her protection from Prince
Galitsky. Yaroslavna discovers the perfidy
of her brother, and after a violent scene drives
him from her presence, at the very moment
when a messenger arrives with the news that
Igor's army has been defeated on the banks of
the Kayala. " At the third dawn/' says the

s

258 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

rhapsody, " the Russian standards fell before
the foe, for no blood was left to shed." Igor
and Vladimir are taken prisoners and the
Polovsty are marching on Poultivle. The news
of this heroic disaster causes a reaction of loyal
sentiment, and, as the curtain falls, the Boyards
draw their swords and swear to defend Yaro-
slavna to the death.

The second and third acts take place in tLe
enemy's camp, and are full of Oriental colour.
Khan Konchak, as depicted in the opera, is a
noble type of Eastern warrior. He has one
beautiful daughter, Konchakovna, with whom
the young Prince Vladimir falls passionately
in love. The serenade which he sings before her
tent is perhaps the most fascinating number in
the whole work. There is also a fine bass solo for
Prince Igor, in which he gives vent to the grief
and shame he suffers in captivity. Ovlour, one
of the Polovetz soldiers, who is a Christian con-
vert, offers to facilitate Igor's escape. But the
Prince feels bound by the chivalrous conduct of
Khan Konchak to refuse his offer. In the second
act the Khan gives a banquet in honour of his
noble captive, which serves as a pretext for the
introduction of Oriental dances, choruses, and
gorgeous scenic effects.

In the third act the conquering army of the
Polovsty return to camp, bringing the prisoners
and spoils taken from Poultivle. At this sight,

BORODIN AND GUI 259

Igor, filled with pity for the sorrows of his wife
and people, consents to flee. While the soldiers
are dividing the spoil from Poultivle, Ovlour
plies them liberally with koumiss and, after a
wild orgy, the whole camp falls into a drunken
sleep. Borodin has been severely censured by
certain critics for the robust realism with which
he has treated this scene. When the Khan's
daughter discovers their secret preparations for
flight, she entreats Vladimir not to forsake her.
He is on the point of yielding, when his father
sternly recalls him to a sense of duty. But
Konchakovna's glowing Oriental passion is not
to be baulked. At the last moment, when Ov-
lour gives the signal for escape, she flings her-
self upon her lover, and holds him back until
Igor has mounted and galloped out of the camp,
unconscious that his son is left behind. De-
tained against his will, Vladimir finds no great
difficulty in accommodating himself to circum-
stances. The soldiers would like to kill him in
revenge for his father's escape. But the Khan
philosophically remarks : " Since the old falcon
has taken flight, we must chain the young falcon
by giving him a mate. He must be my daughter's
husband." In the fourth Act Yaroslavna sings
her touching lament, as she stands on the terrace
of her ruined palace and gazes over the fertile
plains, now ravaged by the hostile army.
Even while she bemoans the cruelty of fate,

260 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

two horsemen come in sight. They prove to
be Igor and the faithful Ovlour, returned in
safety from their perilous ride. The joy of
reunion between husband and wife may be
perhaps a trifle over-emphasised. It is the man
who speaks here, rather than the artist ; for
Borodin, who lived in perfect domestic happiness
with his wife, knew, however, many long and
enforced separations from her. The picture
of conjugal felicity which he gives us in Igor
is undoubtedly reflected from his own life.

The opera closes with a touch of humour.
Igor and Yaroslavna enter the Kremlin at
Poultivle at the same moment as the two
deserters Eroshka and Skoula. The precious
pair are shaking in their shoes, for if Igor catches
sight of them they are lost. To get out of
their difficulty they set the bells a-ringing and
pretend to be the first bearers of the glad tidings
of Igor's escape. Probably because they are
merry ruffians and skilful with their goudoks,
no one reveals their treachery and they get off
scot-free.

When we consider that Prince Igor was written
piecemeal, in intervals snatched between medical
commissions, boards of examination, lectures,
and laboratory work, we marvel to find it so
astonishingly cohesive, so delightfully fresh.
Borodin describes the difficulties he had to
contend with in a letter to an intimate friend.

BORODIN AND GUI 261

" In winter," he says, " I can only compose
when I am too unwell to give my lectures. So
my friends, reversing the usual custom, never
say to me, ' I hope you are well ' but ' I do hope
you are ill/ At Christmas I had influenza,
so I stayed at home and wrote the Thanksgiving
Chorus in the last act of Igor." *

Borodin took his work very seriously, as we
might expect from a scientist. He had access
to every document bearing on the period of his
opera, and he received from Hunfalvi, the
celebrated traveller, a number of melodies
collected among the tribes of Central Asia
which he employed in the music allotted to the
Polovtsy. But there is nothing of meticulous
pedantry apparent in Borodin's work. He has
drawn a vivid picture of the past, a worthy
pendant to the historical paintings of his con-
temporary Vasnietsov, who has reconstructed
mediaeval Russia with such astonishing force
and realism. Borodin modelled his opera upon
Glinka's Russian and Liudmilla rather than
on Dargomij sky's The Stone Guest. He had his
own personal creed as regards operatic form.
" Recitative does not conform to my tempera-
ment," he says, " although according to some
critics I do not handle it badly. I am far more
attracted to melody and cantilena. I am more
and more drawn to definite and concrete forms.
In opera, as in decorative art, minutiae are

262 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

out of place. Bold outlines only are necessary.
All should be clear and fit for practical perform-
ance from the vocal and instrumental stand-
points. The voices should take the first place ;
the orchestra the second."

Prince Igor, in its finished form, is a com-
promise between the new and the old methods ;
for the declamation, although not of such
primary importance as with Dargomijsky, is
more developed than with Glinka. Borodin
keeps to the accepted divisions of Italian opera,
and gives to Igor a long aria quite in the
traditional style. The music of Prince Igor has
some features in common with Glinka's Russian,
in which the Oriental element is also made to
contrast with the national Russian colouring.
But the Eastern music in Borodin's opera is
more daring and characteristic. Comparing
the two operas, Cheshikin says : " The epic
beauty of Prince Igor reminds us of the serene
poetry of Goncharov, of the so-called ' poetry
of daily life ' ; while Glinka may be more
suitably compared to Poushkin. Borodin's
calm, cheerful, objective attitude towards the
national life is manifested in the general style
of the opera ; in the wonderfully serene
character of its melody ; in the orchestral
colour, in the transparency of the harmony,
and the lightness and agility of the counter-
point. In spite of his reputation as an innovator,

BORODIN AND GUI 263

Borodin has introduced nothing startlingly new
into this opera ; his orchestral style is still that
of Glinka. . . . The poetry of common things
exercised such a fascination for Borodin that he
completely forgot the heroic tendencies of
Glinka. His folk, as represented by him amid
an epidemic of alcoholism, and the hard-
worked, ubiquitous goudok players, Eroshka and
Skoula, throw into the shade the leading char-
acters whose musical outlines are somewhat
sketchy and impermanent. Borodin's Igor recalls
Glinka's Russian ; Yaroslavna is not a very
distinguished personality ; Galitsky is not far
removed from Eroshka and Skoula ; and Kon-
chakovna and Vladimir are ordinary operatic
lovers. The chief beauty of Glinka's Russian
lies in the solo parts and in a few concerted
numbers. On the other hand, the principal
hero of Borodin's opera is ' the folk ' ; while
its chief beauty is to be found in the choruses
based on Russian and Tatar folk-song themes.
What affects us chiefly in the music may be
traced to that normal optimism with which
the whole work is impregnated." Borodin, it
should be added, had far more humour than
Glinka, who could never have created two such
broadly and robustly comic types as Skoula and
Eroshka. There is a distinctly Shakespearian
flavour in the quality of Borodin's humour. In
this respect he approaches Moussorgsky.

264 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

In the atmosphere of healthy, popular op-
timism which pervades it throughout ; in the
prevalence of major over minor keys ; in the
straightforwardness of its emotional appeal—
Prince Igor stands almost alone among Russian
operas. The spirit of pessimism which darkens
Russian literature inevitably crept into the
national opera ; because music and literature
are more closely associated in Russia than in
any other country. Glinka's A Life for the
Tsar is a tragedy of loyal self-sacrifice ; Tchai-
kovsky took his brooding melancholy into his
operatic works, which are nearly all built on
some sad or tragic libretto ; Cui deals in
romantic melodrama ; Moussorgsky depicts the
darkest phases in Russian history. Prince Igor
comes as a serene and restful interlude after
the stress and horror which characterise many
Russian national operas. Nor is it actually
less national because of its optimistic character.
There are two sides to the Russian tempera-
ment ; the one overshadowed by melancholy
and mysticism ; prone to merciless analysis ;
seeing only the contradictions and vanities of
life, the mortality and emptiness of all that is.
I doubt if this is the true Russian temperament ;
if it is not rather a morbid condition, the result
of sudden and copious doses of culture, admin-
istered too hastily to a people just emerging
from a semi-barbaric state — the kind of result

BORODIN AND GUI 265

that follows alcohol taken on an empty stomach ;
a quick elation, an equally speedy reaction to
extreme depression. The other side of the
Russian character is really more normal. It
shows itself in the popular literature. The
folk-songs and bylini are not all given up to
resentful bitterness and despair. We find this
healthier spirit in the masses, where it takes the
form of a desire for practical knowledge, a
shrewdness in making a bargain and a co-
operative spirit that properly guided would
accomplish wonders. It shows itself, too, in a
great capacity for work which belongs to the
vigorous youth of the nation and in a cheerful
resignation to inevitable hardships. Borodin
was attracted by temperament to this saner
aspect of national character.

The most distinctive feature of Russian art
and literature is the power to reflect clearly, as
in a glass, various phases of popular life. This
has also been the aim of the Russian composers,
with few exceptions. They cheerfully accepted
the limitations imposed by the national vision,
and have won appreciation abroad by the
sheer force of genius manifested in their works.
They resolutely sought the kingdom of the
Ideal, and would have been greatly surprised to
find such things as universal fame added to
them. Borodin, for example, cherished no
illusions as to winning the approval of Berlin

266 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

or Paris for his work. Prince Igor, he said,
with admirable philosophy, " is essentially an
opera for the Russians. It would never bear
transplantation/' For many years, however,
it could not even be said to be " a work for the
Russians " in the fullest sense, because it was
not offered to the right public. Works like
Prince Igor and Boris Godounov, ^which should
have been mounted at a People's Palace in
St. Petersburg, for the enjoyment of a large
and really popular audience, were laid aside for
many years awaiting the patriotic enterprise of
rich men like Mamantov, who occasionally
gave a series of Russian operas at their own
expense, or the generous impulse of artists such
as Melnikov and Shaliapin, who were willing to
risk the production of a national masterpiece
on their benefit nights.

Cesar Cui offers in most respects a complete
contrast to the composer of Prince Igor. It is
true that he shares with Borodin the lyrical,
rather than the declamatory, tendency in
operatic music, but whereas the latter is a
follower of Glinka in his close adherence to the
national style, we find in the music of Cesar
Cui a strong blend of foreign influences. As in
Tchaikovsky's dramatic works we discern from
first to last some traces of his earliest love in
music — the Italian opera — so in Cui's com-
positions we never entirely lose sight of his

BORODIN AND GUI 267

French descent. Cui's position as a composer
must strike us as paradoxical. The first disciple
to join Balakirev, and always a staunch sup-
porter of the new Russian school, we might
naturally expect to find some strong, pro-
gressive, and national tendency in his music.
We might suppose that he would assume the
virtue of nationality even if he had it not. But
this is not the case. The French element,
combined, curiously enough, with Schumann's
influence, is everywhere predominant. Never-
theless, Cui has been a distinct force in the
evolution of modern Russian music, for to him
is generally attributed the origin of that " second
generation " of composers with whom inspiration
ranks after the cult of form, and " the idea "
becomes subordinate to elaborate treatment.
This tendency is also represented by Glazounov
in his early work, and still more strongly by
Liadov and one or two composers for the
pianoforte.

Cui was born at Vilna, in Poland, in 1835.
His father had served in Napoleon's army, and
was left behind during the retreat from Moscow
in 1812. He afterwards married a Lithuanian
lady and settled down as teacher of French in
the Vilna High School. Here Cui received his
early education. He showed a precocious musi-
cal talent and, besides learning the pianoforte,
picked up some theoretical knowledge from

268 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Moniuszko ; but he never — as is sometimes
stated — received regular instruction from the
Polish composer. Except for what he owed in
later life to Balakirev's guidance, Cui is actually
that rara avis, a self-taught composer.

From the time he entered the School of
Military Engineering in 1850, until he passed
out with honours in 1857, Cui had no time to
devote to his favourite pursuit. On obtaining
officer's rank he was appointed sub-Professor
of Fortification, and lecturer on the same sub-
ject at the Staff College and School of Artillery.
Among his pupils he reckoned the present Em-
peror, Nicholas II. Cui has now risen to be a
Lieut. -General of Engineers and President of the
I. R. M. S. At first his military appointments
barely sufficed to keep him, and when he married
— early in life — he and his wife were obliged to
add to their income by keeping a preparatory
school for boys intended eventually for the
School of Engineering. Here Cui taught all
day, when not lecturing in the military schools ;
while his nights were largely devoted to the
study of harmony, and afterwards to composi-
tion and musical criticism. Very few of the
Russian composers, with their dual occupations
to fulfil, have known the luxury of an eight
hours' day.

Cui first met Balakirev in 1856, and was
introduced by him to Dargomijsky. His earliest

BORODIN AND GUI 269

operatic attempt, a work in one act entitled
The Mandarin s Son, was a very slight composi-
tion in the style of Auber. An opera composed
about the same time (1858-1859) on Poushkin's
dramatic poem The Captive in the Caucasus was
a much more ambitious effort. Many years
later — in 1881 — Cui considered this work worth >
remodelling, and he also interpolated a second^
act. The patch is rather obvious, but The Cap-
tive in the Caucasus is an interesting work to
study, because it reveals very clearly the differ-
ence between Cui's earlier and later styles.
Cui's reputation as an operatic composer
actually began, however, with the performance
of William Ratcliff, produced at the Maryinsky
Theatre, St. Petersburg, in February 1869, under
the direction of Napravnik, on the occasion of
Mme. Leonova's benefit. A composer who is
also a critic is certainly at a disadvantage in
many respects. Cui, who contributed during
the 'sixties a whole series of brilliant — and
often mercilessly satirical — articles to the
Russian press, * gave his adversaries an ex-
cellent opportunity to attack him for incon-
sistency when Ratcliff made its appearance.
Cui's literary precepts do undoubtedly move
somewhat in advance of his practice as a
composer, and Ratcliff conforms in very few

1 He was appointed musical critic of the St. Petersburg
" Viedomosty " in 1864.

270 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

respects to the creed of the new Russian
school as formulated by him in his well-known
articles "La Musique en Russie." That is
to say, instead of following the example
of Dargomijsky in The Stone Guest, Cui to a
great extent replaces free-recitative by arioso ;
while at the same time the absence of such
broad and flowing melody as we find in the
operas of Glinka, Borodin, and Tchaikovsky
places William Ratdiff in a position midway
between declamatory and lyric opera. Some
of the hostile criticisms showered upon this
work are not altogether unjust. The subject
of Heine's early tragedy, the outcome of his
" Sturm und Drang " period, is undoubtedly
crude and sensational ; even in Plestcheiev's
fine translation it was hardly likely to be accept-
able to a nation who was beginning to base its
dramatic traditions on the realistic plays of
Gogol and Ostrovsky, rather than upon the
romanticism of Schiller's " Robbers," and kin-
dred dramas. The music is lacking in realistic
power and certainly makes no pretensions to
fulfil Dargomij sky's dictum that " the note
must represent the word." Although the action
of William Ratdiff takes place across the border,
neither the sentiment nor the colour of the
music would satisfy a Scottish composer. But
Cui's critics show a lack of perception when they
neglect to praise the grace and tenderness which

BORODIN AND GUI 271

characterise his heroine Mary, and the sincerity
and warmth of emotion which occasionally
kindles and glows into passion as in the love-
duet between William and Mary in the last act.

The public verdict which began by echoing
that of the critics, with the inimical Serov at
their head, afterwards became more favourable,
and William Ratcliff, when produced in 1900 by
the Private Opera Company in Moscow, was
received with considerable enthusiasm.

Tchaikovsky, writing of this opera in 1879,
says : "It contains charming things, but un-
fortunately it suffers from a certain insipidity,
and from over-elaboration in the development
of the parts. It is obvious that the composer
has spent a long time over each individual bar,
and lovingly completed it in every detail, with
the result that his musical outline has lost its
freedom and every touch is too deliberate. By
nature Cui is more drawn towards light and
piquantly rhythmic French music ; but the
demands of ' the invincible band/ which he has
joined, compel him to do violence to his natural
gifts and to follow those paths of would-be
original harmony which do not suit him. Cui
is now forty-four years of age and has only com-
posed two operas and two or three dozen songs.
He was engaged for ten years upon his opera
Ratcliff. It is evident that the work was com-
posed piecemeal, hence the lack of any unity

272 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

of style." This criticism contains a germ of
carefully observed truth. The score of William
Ratdiff, which looks deceptively simple and
seems to be packed with dance rhythms in the
style of Auber (Leslie's song in Act II. for
instance might be a chansonette from " Fra
Diavolo "), shows on closer examination rather a
tiresome succession of harmonic surprise tricks,
intended perhaps to draw attention from themes
which have not in themselves an impressive
dramatic quality. At the same time, only
prejudice could ignore the true poetry andpassion
expressed in the love scenes between William
and Mary.

William Ratdiff was followed by a series of
admirable songs which indicated that Cui's
talent as a vocal composer was rapidly maturing.
A new opera, in four acts, entitled Angela, 1
was completed and performed in St. Petersburg
in February 1876, under the direction of Na-
pravnik, the occasion being the benefit of the
great baritone Melnikov. The book of Angela
is based upon a play of Victor Hugo — a tale of
passionate love ; of rivalry between two beauti-
ful and contrasting types of womanhood ; of
plotted revenge, and final atonement, when

1 Ponchielli has used the same subject for his opera
" Gioconda" ; while Mascagni, influenced possibly by the
Russian realists, made a literal setting of Heine's poem
"William Rat cliff " in the style of The Stone Guest
("Guglielmo Ratcliff," Milan 1895.)

BORODIN AND^CUI 273

Tisbe saves the life of her rival at the expense
of her own. The scene is laid in Padua during
the middle of the sixteenth century. This
work is generally regarded as the fruit of Cui's
maturity. The subject is more suited to his
temperament than Heine's " Rat cliff," and lends
itself to the frequent employment of a chorus.
Here Cui has been very successful, especially
in the lighter choruses written in Italian dance
rhythms, such as the tarantella " The moon
rides in the clear bright sky/' in the third act,
and the graceful valse-like chorus " Far o'er
the sea." The love duet between Catarina
and Rodolfo is preferred by many to the great
love duet in Ratcliff. Cui, whose heroines are
more convincing than his male types, has
found congenial material in Catarina and
Tisbe, who have been described as " Woman in
Society and Woman outside it " ; thus com-
bining in two typical personalities " all women
and all womanhood." There is power, too, in
the purely dramatic moments, as when Ascanio
addresses the populace. The opera concludes
with a fine elegiac chorus, in which the char-
acter of the period and locality — mediaeval
Italy, tragic and intense — is not unsuccessfully
reflected.

In Angela Cui made a supreme effort to achieve
breadth of style and to break through the limita-
tions he had imposed upon himself by adopting

T

274 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the methods and peculiarities of such composers
as Schumann and Chopin. But this effort
seems to have been followed by a speedy re-
action. After the appearance of Angela his
manner becomes more distinctly finical and
artificial. His military duties and his literary
work made increasing demands on his time, and
the flow of inspiration dropped below its highest
level. Songs and miniatures for pianoforte
were now his chief preoccupation, and, greater
undertakings being perhaps out of the question,
he became absorbed in the cult of small and
finished forms, and fell increasingly under the
influence of Schumann. It was at this time that
he wrote the additional act for The Captive
in the Caucasus, to which reference has already
been made. Here the contrast between the
simplicity and sincerity of his first style, and
the formal polish and " preciousness " of his
middle period, is very pronounced. The use of
local colour in The Captive in the Caucasus is
not very convincing. Cui is no adept in the
employment of Oriental themes, and the Caucasus
has never been to him the source of romantic
inspiration it has proved to so many other
Russian poets and composers.

Another four-act opera The Saracen, the sub-
ject taken from a play by the elder Dumas
entitled "Charles VII. chez ses grands Vasseaux,"
was first performed at the Maryinsky Theatre

BORODIN AND GUI 275

in St. Petersburg in 1899, and revived by the
Private Opera Company at Moscow in 1902.
The subject is gloomy and highly dramatic,
with sensational elements almost as lurid as
anything in William Ratcliff. The interest of
the opera fluctuates between the love of the
King for Agnes Sorel — two figures which stand
out in relief from the dark historical back-
ground of that period, when Jeanne d'Arc was
fighting the battles of her weak and indolent
sovereign — and the domestic affairs of the
saturnine Count Saverny and his wife Beran-
gere ; complicated by the inner drama which is
carried on in the soul of the Saracen slave Jakoub,
who is in love with the Countess, and finally
murders her husband at her instigation. As
usual, Cui is most successful in the purely
lyrical numbers — the love scenes between the
King and Agnes Sorel. Here the music, almost
effeminately tender, has that touching and
sensuous quality which caused a celebrated
French critic to write of Cui as " the Bellini
of the North." The " berceuse," sung, strangely
enough, by the harsh Count de Saverny as he
keeps watch over the King's son on the threshold
of his bed-chamber, is a strikingly original
number which should be better known in the
concert-room.

Le Flibustier, composed between 1888-1889,
was dedicated to that distinguished amateur

276 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the Countess Mercy- Argent eau, whose influence
counted for so much in Cui's later musical
development. This work, written to a French
libretto from a play by Jean Richepin, was
originally produced at the Opera Comique,
Paris, in 1894. It is described as a " Comedie
lyrique en trois actes." It is frankly French
in style and contains some graceful and effective
music, but lacks the natural emotion and ardour
which in Ratcliff and Angela atone for some
limitations of expression and for the lack of
unity of style.

An opera in one act, Mam'selle Fifi, based
upon Guy de Maupassant's well-known tale
of the Franco-Prussian war, was produced by
the Private Opera Company at the Hermitage
Theatre in the autumn of 1903. The work was
well received by the public. The scene is laid in
a chateau near Rouen which is occupied by a
detachment of Prussians and their commanding
officers. Bored by their life of inaction, the
officers induce some young women from Rouen
to come and amuse them. They entertain them
at dinner, and sub-lieutenant von Eirich (nick-
named Mam'selle Fifi) pays attention to the
patriotic Rachel ; but while at table he irritates
her to such a degree by his insulting remarks
and vulgar jokes that she seizes a knife and stabs
him mortally in the throat. Afterwards she
makes her escape. Kashkin says : " The music

BORODIN AND GUI 277

of this opera flows on smoothly in concise de-
clamatory scenes, only interrupted from time
to time by the chorus of officers, and the light-
hearted songs of Amanda. Rachel's aria intro-
duces a more tragic note. The music is so
closely welded to the libretto that it appears
to be an essential part of it, clothing with
vitality and realism scenes which would other-
wise be merely the dry bones of opera."

While I was in Russia in the spring of 1901,
Cui played to me a " dramatic scene," or one-
act opera, entitled A Feast in Time of Plague.
It proved to be a setting of a curious poem by
Poushkin which he pretended to have translated
from Wilson's " City of the Plague." Walsing-
ham, a young English nobleman, dares to indulge
in " impious orgies " during the visitation ot
the Great Plague. The songs of the revellers
are interrupted at intervals by a funeral march,
as the dead-cart goes its round to collect its
victims. Cui has set Poushkin's poem word for
word, consequently this little work is more
closely modelled upon Dargomij sky's The Stone
Guest than any other of his operas. When I
heard the work, I was under the impression that
it was intended only as a dramatic cantata,
but it was afterwards produced as an opera
at the New Theatre, Moscow, in the autumn of
1901. The song sung by Walsingham's mis-
tress, Mary (" Time was "), which is Scotch in

278 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

character, has considerable pathetic charm, and
struck me as the most spontaneous number in
the work, which, on the whole, seems an effort
to fit music not essentially tragic in character to
a subject of the gloomiest nature.

In summing up Cui's position as a composer,
I must return to my assertion that it is para-
doxical. First, we may conclude from the pre-
ponderance of operatic music and songs that
Cui is more gifted as a vocal than as an instru-
mental composer ; that, in fact, he needs a
text to bring out his powers of psychological
analysis. But when we come to examine his
music, the methods — and even the mannerisms—
of such instrumental composers as Chopin and
Schumann are reflected in all directions. A
style obviously founded on Schumann will
necessarily lack the qualities which we are
accustomed to regard as essential to a great
operatic style. Cui has not the luminous breadth
and powerful flow of simple and effective melody
which we find in the older type of opera ; nor
the pre-eminent skill in declamation which is
indispensable to the newer forms of music-
drama. His continuous use of arioso becomes
monotonous and ineffective, because, with him,
the clear edges of melody and recitative seem
perpetually blurred. This arises partly from
the fact that Cui's melody, though delicate and
refined, is not strongly individual He is not

BORODIN AND GUI 279

a plagiarist in the worst sense of the word, but
the influences which a stronger composer would
have cast off at maturity seem to obtain a
stronger hold on him as time goes on. His
talent reminds me of those complex recipes for
pot-pourri which we find in the day-books of our
great-grandmothers. It is compounded of many
more or less delightful ingredients : French
predilections, Schumannesque mannerisms, some
essence distilled from the grace and passion of
Chopin, a dash of Russian sincerity — a number of
fragrant and insidious aromas, in which the
original element of individuality is smothered
in the rose leaves and lavender winnowed from
other people's gardens. Then there is a second
perplexing consideration which follows the study
of Cui's music. Possessed of this fragrant, but
not robust, talent, Cui elects to apply it to themes
of the ultra-romantic type with all their grisly
accompaniments of moonlit heaths, blood-stained
daggers, vows of vengeance, poison-cups, and
the rest. It is as though a Herrick were posing
as a John Webster. Surely in these curious
discrepancies between the artist's temperament
and his choice of subject and methods of treat-
ment we find the reason why of all Cui's operas
not one has taken a permanent hold on the public
taste in Russia or abroad. And this in spite of
their lyrical charm and graceful workmanship.
Cui is now the sole remaining member of

28o THE RUSSIAN OPERA

" the invincible band " who originally gathered
round Balakirev for the purpose of founding a
national school of music. He is now in his
eightieth year, but still composes and keeps up
his interest in the Russian musical world.
Within the last three years he has published
a four-act opera on the subject of Poushkin's
tale, " The Captain's Daughter."1

1 The opera was produced in St. Petersburg in February,
1911, the Emperor and Empress being present. It will be
given shortly by the Zimin Opera Company, in Moscow.
Published by Jurgenson, Moscow.

CHAPTER XII

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV

A contemporary critic has pointed to
Rimsky-Korsakov and Tchaikovsky as
having, between them, built up Russian
music to its present proud condition, " con-
structing their majestic edifice upon the ever-
lasting foundation laid by Glinka." Making
some allowance for grandiloquence of language,
this observation is particularly true as applied
to Rimsky-Korsakov, for not only was he
consistently true to the national ideal in all his
works, but during his long activity as a teacher
he trained a whole group of distinguished
musicians — Liadov, Arensky, Ippolitov-Ivanov
Grechyaninov, Tcherepnin, Stravinsky — who
have all added their stones to the building up of
this temple of Russian art. At the same time,
we must regard Rimsky-Korsakov as the last of
those national composers who chose to build
with exclusively local materials and in purely
Russian style. The younger generation are
shaping their materials under more varied in-
fluences. Rimsky-Korsakov, therefore, stands

282 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

out in the history of Russian opera as one
of the most distinguished and distinctively
racial composers of that circle to whom we owe
the inauguration of the national school of music
in Russia.

The subject of this chapter was born in the
little village of Tikvin, in the government of
Novgorod, on March 6th, 1844, and, until he
was twelve years old, he continued to live on
his father's estate, among the lakes and forests
of northern Russia, where music was interwoven
with every action of rustic life. His gifts were
precocious ; between six and seven he began to
play the pianoforte, and made some attempts at
composition before he was nine. It was almost
a matter of tradition that the men of the
Korsakov family should enter the navy ; con-
sequently in 1856, Nicholas Andreivich was sent
to the Naval College at St. Petersburg, where
he remained for six years. Not without diffi-
culty he managed to continue his pianoforte
lessons on Sundays and holidays with the
excellent teacher Kanille. The actual starting
point of his musical career, however, was his
introduction to Balakirev and his circle. From
this congenial companionship Rimsky -Korsakov
was abruptly severed in 1863, when he was
ordered to sea in the cruiser " Almaz." The
ship was absent on foreign service for three
years, during which she practically made the

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 283

round of the world. While on this voyage
Rimsky-Korsakov wrote and revised a Sym-
phony, Op. i in E Minor, and surely never was
an orchestral work composed under stranger
or less propitious conditions. Balakirev per-
formed this work at one of the concerts of the
Free School of Music in the winter of 1866. It
was the first symphony ever composed by a
Russian, and the music, though not strong, is
agreeable ; but like many other early opus
numbers it bears evidence of strong external
influences.

In the chapters dealing with Balakirev and
his circle I have given a picture of the social and
artistic conditions in St. Petersburg to which
the young sailor returned in the autumn of
1865. In common with other members of this
school, Rimsky-Korsakov's musical develop-
ment at this time was carried on as it were a
rebours, Schumann, Berlioz, Liszt and Glinka
being his early ideals and models. During the
years of his pupilage with Balakirev, he com-
posed, besides his first symphony, the Sym-
phonic Picture " Sadko," a Fantasia on Servian
Themes, the Symphony with an Oriental pro-
gramme entitled " Antar," and the opera The
Maid of Pskov, now usually given abroad under
the title of Ivan the Terrible. In his " Chronicle
of my Musical Life " Rimsky-Korsakov shows
clearly that after passing through a phase of

284 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

blind idolatry for Balakirev and his methods, he
began, largely by reason of his orderly, in-
dustrious, and scrupulously conscientious
nature, to feel the need of a more academic
course of training. He realised the defects in
his theoretical education most keenly when,
in 1871, Asanchievsky, who had just suc-
ceeded Zaremba as Director of the St. Peters-
burg Conservatoire, offered him a post as
professor of practical composition and also
the direction of the orchestral class. Urged
by his friends, and prompted by a certain
self-assurance which he asserts was born of
his ignorance, Rimsky-Korsakov accepted the
post, being permitted at the same time to
remain in the naval service. Although he
had composed " Sadko," " Antar," and other
attractive and well-sounding compositions, he
had worked, so far, more or less intuitively
and had not been grounded in the particular
subjects which form the curriculum of a musical
academy. Probably it mattered much less
than his scrupulous rectitude prompted him
to suppose, that he felt unfit to lecture upon
rondo-iorm, and had his work as a conductor
yet to learn. The main thing was that he
brought a fresh, breezy, and wholly Russian
current of thought into the stuffy atmo-
sphere of pedantic classicism which must have
been engendered under Zaremba's direc-

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 285

torate. 1 Indeed, according to his own modest
account, things seem to have gone well with the
orchestral and instrumentation classes. From
this time, however, began that strong reaction
in favour of classicism and " the schools/' upon
which his progressive friends looked with dis-
may ; to them his studies appeared merely the
cult of musical archaeology — a retrogressive step
to be deeply deplored. On the other hand
Tchaikovsky hailed it as a sign of grace and
repentance. " Rimsky-Korsakov," writes the
composer of the " Pathetic " symphony to N.
von Meek, in 1877, " is the one exception (in
the matter of conceit and stiff-necked pride) to
the rest of the new Russian school. He was
overcome by despair when he realised how many
profitable years he had lost and that he was
following a road which led nowhere. He began
to study with such zeal that during one summer
he achieved innumerable exercises in counter-
point and sixty-four fugues, ten of which he sent
me for inspection." Rimsky-Korsakov may
have felt himself braced and strengthened by

1 It will be remembered that Zaremba was satirized in
Moussorgsky's humorous Scena "The Musician's Peep
show" as that "denizen of cloudland " who used to
deliver to his bewildered classes inspired dictums some
thing in this style :

" Mark my words : the minor key
Is the source of man's first downfall ;
But the major still can give
Salvation to your erring souls."

286 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

this severe course of musical theory ; it may
have been a relief to his extremely sensitive
artistic conscience to feel that henceforward he
he could rely as much on experience as on
intuition ; but his remorse for the past--
supposing him ever to have felt the sting of such
keen regret — never translated itself into the
apostasy of his earlier principles. After the
sixty-four fugues and the exhaustive study of
Bach's works, he continued to walk with
Berlioz and Liszt in what Zaremba would have
regarded as the way of sinners, because in his
opinion it coincided with the highway of
musical progress, as well as with his natural
inclinations. He knew the forms demanded by
his peculiar temperament. Genius, and even
superior talent, almost invariably possess this
intuition. No one should have known better
than Tchaikovsky that in spite of well-inten-
tioned efforts to push a composer a little to
the right or the left, the question of form re-
mains— and will always remain — self-selective.
Rimsky-Korsakov, after, as before, his initiation
into classicism, chose the one path open to the
honest artist — musician, painter, or poet — the
way of individuality.

In 1873 Rimsky-Korsakov, at the suggestion
of the Grand Duke Constantine, was appointed
Inspector of Naval Bands, in which capac-
ity he had great opportunities for practical

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 287

experiments in instrumentation. At this time,
he tells us, he went deeply into the study of
acoustics and the construction and special
qualities of the instruments of the orchestra.
This appointment practically ended his career
as an officer on the active list, at which he must
have felt considerable relief, for with all his
" ideal conscientiousness " it is doubtful whether
he would ever have made a great seaman. The
following letter, written to Cui during his first
cruise on the " Almaz," reveals nothing of the
cheery optimism of a true " sea-dog " ; but it
does reveal the germ of " Sadko " and of much
finely descriptive work in his later music.
" What a thing to be thankful for is the naval
profession," he writes ; " how glorious, how
agreeable, how elevating ! Picture yourself sail-
ing across the North Sea. The sky is grey,
murky, and colourless ; the wind screeches
through the rigging ; the ship pitches so that
you can hardly keep your legs ; you are
constantly besprinkled with spray, and some-
times washed from head to foot by a wave ; you
feel chilly, and rather sick. Oh, a sailor's
life is really jolly ! "

But if his profession did not benefit greatly
by his services, his art certainly gained some-
thing from his profession. It is this actual
contact with nature, choral in moments of stress
and violence, as well as in her milder rhythmic

288 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

moods, that we hear in " Sadko " the orchestral
fantasia, and in Sadko the opera. We feel the
weight of the wind against our bodies and the
sting of the brine on our faces. We are left
buffeted and breathless by the elemental fury
of the storm when the Sea King dances with
almost savage vigour to the sound of Sadko's
gusslee, or by the vehement realism of the
shipwreck in " Scheherezade."

Of his early orchestral works, " Sadko "
displays the national Russian element, while
the second symphony, " Antar/' shows his
leaning towards Oriental colour. These com-
positions prove the tendency of his musical
temperament, but they do not show the more
delicate phases of his work. They are large and
effective canvases and display extraordinary
vigour and much poetical sentiment. But the
colour, although laid on with science, is certainly
applied with a palette knife. We must go to his
operas and songs to discover what this artist
can do in the way of discriminating and exquisite
brush-work. In speaking of Korsakov's work,
it seems natural to drop into the language of the
studio, for, to me, he always appears as a descrip-
tive poet, or still more as a landscape painter
who has elected music for his medium. Gifted
with a brilliant imagination, yet seeing with a
realist's vision, he is far more attracted to what
is capable of definite expression than towards

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 289

abstract thought. Lyrical he is ; but more in
the sense of Wordsworth than of Shelley. With
a nature to which the objective world makes so
strong an appeal, impassioned self-revelation is
not a primary and urgent necessity. In this
respect he is the antithesis of Tchaikovsky. The
characteristic vein of realism which we have
found in all our Russian composers, and most
strongly marked in Moussorgsky, exists also in
Korsakov ; but in his case it is controlled by an
almost fastidious taste, and a love of beautiful
details which sometimes stifle the fundamental
idea of his work. From these preliminary re-
marks you will have formed for yourselves some
idea as to the spirit in which this composer
would approach the sphere of dramatic music.
He came to it first by way of Russian history.
The Maid of Pskov (" Pskovityanka " *) was
completed in 1872, and performed in St. Peters-
burg in January, 1873. The caste was a
remarkably good one: Ivan the Terrible—
Petrov ; Michael Toucha— Orlov ; Prince Tok-
makov— Melnikov ; Olga— Platonova ; Vlas-
sievna— Leonova. Napravnik was the con-
ductor. Opinions as to its success vary greatly,
but the early fate of the work does not seem to
have been happy, partly because, as Stassov

n1 Jhis.?PeI\is now given abroad under the title of Ivan
We 1 ernble, which brings home to foreigners some realisa-
ti 01 its period and of its gloomy central figure.

U

2QO THE RUSSIAN OPERA

says, the public, accustomed only to Italian
opera, were incapable of appreciating this
attempt at serious historical music-drama, and
partly because the opera suffered severely at
the hands of the critics and the Censor.

In The Maid of Pskov (" Ivan the Terrible ")
Rimsky-Korsakov started under the influence of
Dargomij sky's The Stone Guest, to the theory of
which all the new Russian school at first
subscribed. Afterwards Rimsky-Korsakov, like
Tchaikovsky, alternated between lyrical and
declamatory opera and occasionally effected
a union of the two styles. In The Maid of
Pskov the solo parts consisted at first chiefly
of mezzo-recitative of a somewhat dry quality,
relieved by great variety of orchestral colour in
the accompaniments. The choruses, on the
other hand, were very national in style and full
of melody and movement. The work under-
went many revisions before it appeared in its
present form. In 1877 the composer added the
Overture to the Prologue and the Entr'actes.
At this time he was assisting to edit the " monu-
mental " edition of Glinka's operas which the
master's sister Liudmilla Shestakov was bringing
out at her own expense. " This occupation," says
Rimsky-Korsakov, " proved to be an unex-
pected schooling, and enabled me to penetrate
into every detail of Glinka's structural style."
The first revision of The Maid of Pskov and the

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 291

editing of A Life for the Tsar and Russian were
carried on simultaneously. Therefore it is not
surprising that Rimsky-Korsakov set himself to
polish and tone down many youthful crudi-
ties which appeared in the original score of his
own opera. Cui, Moussorgsky and Stassov, al-
though at first they approved his resolution to
jvise the work, showed some disappointment at
results ; while the composer's wife deeply
pretted its first form. It was evident to all
that what the work had gained in structure and
technical treatment it had lost in freshness and
lightness of touch. In 1878 the composer
offered it once more, in this revised edition, to
Baron Kistner, Director of the Imperial Opera,
but without success. The work was laid aside
until 1894, when it was again re-modelled and
revived by the initiative of an amateur society
at the Panaevsky Theatre, St. Petersburg, in
April 1895. In this version it was mounted
at the Imperial Opera House, Moscow, when
Shaliapin appeared in the part of Ivan the
Terrible. On this occasion the opera was
preceded by the Prologue Boyarinya Vera Sheloga,
composed in 1899. Its reception was extremely
enthusiastic, and in the autumn of 1903 — thirty
years after its first performance — it was restored
to the repertory of the St. Petersburg Opera.

The subject of The Maid of Pskov is taken from
one of Mey's dramas, dealing with an episode

292 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

from the history of the sixteenth century when
Ivan the Terrible, jealous of the enterprise and
independence of the twin cities of Pskov and
Novgorod, resolved to humble their pride and
curtail their power. Novgorod fell ; but the
awful doom of Pskov was mitigated by the
Tsar's discovery that Olga, who passes for the
daughter of Prince Tokmakov, the chief magis-
trate of the city, was in reality his own natural
child, the daughter of Vera Sheloga whom he
had loved in youth, and for whose memory the
tyrant could still feel some spark of affection and
some pangs of remorse. One of the finest
moments in the opera is the summoning of the
Vdche, or popular assembly, in the second act.
The great city of mediaeval Russia, with all it
contained of characteristic energy, of almost
Elizabethan vigour and enterprise, is set before
us in this musical picture. The stress and anger
of the populace ; the fine declamatory mono-
logue for Prince Tokmakov ; the song sung by
Michael Toucha, Olga's lover, who leads the
rebellious spirits of Pskov ; the impressive
knell of the tocsin calling the citizens to attend
the V$che — all unite to form a dramatic scene
worthy to compare with the finale of Glinka's
Russian and Liudmilla, or with the Slavsia
(the chorus of acclamation) which makes the
Kremlin ring in A Life for the Tsar. Russians,
as everyone knows who has lived in their

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 293

country, have a passion for bells, and often
reproduce their effects in their music : wit-
ness the orchestral prelude " Dawn Breaking
over Moscow " in Moussorgsky's Khovanstchina
and the familiar Overture " 1812 " by Tchaikov-
sky. The bell effects in The Maid of Pskov are
extraordinarily moving. Recalling, as it does,
traditions of political liberty and free speech,
this bell — so I have been told — appeared in the
eyes of the Censor the most objectionable and
revolutionary character in the whole opera.
The scenes in which the old nurse Vlassievna
takes part — a Nianka is so much a part of
domestic life in Russia that no play or opera
seems complete without one — are full of quiet
humour and tenderness. The love-music for
Michael and Olga is graceful rather than
passionate, more warmth and tenderness being
shown in the relations between the young girl
and the Tsar, for whom she has an instinctive
filial feeling. Psychologically the later scenes
in the opera, in which we see the relentless and
superstitious heart of Ivan gradually softening
under the influence of paternal love, interest and
touch us most deeply. In 1899 Rimsky-Kor-
sakov added, at Shaliapin's request, the aria now
sung by the Tsar in his tent, in the last act.
This number reveals much of Ivan's strange and
complex nature ; in it he is alternately the
despot, the remorseful lover, and the weary old

294 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

man aching for a daughter's tenderness. Cheshi-
kin points out the remarkable effect which the
composer produces at the end of this solo, where
the key fluctuates between B flat major and G
minor, with the final cadence in D major, giving
a sense of weakness and irresolution appropriate
to Ivan's weariness of body and soul. The final
scene in the opera, in which the death of Olga
snatches from the wretched Tsar his last hope of
redemption through human love, has but one
fault : that of almost unendurable poignancy.
With the accession of Alexander III. in 1881
began a more encouraging period for Russian
composers. The Emperor showed a distinct
predilection for native opera, and particularly
for the works of Tchaikovsky. A series of
musical events, such as the raising of the
Glinka monument at Smolensk by national
subscription (1885), Rubinstein's jubilee (1889),
the publication of Serov's critical works, and the
public funeral accorded to Tchaikovsky (1893),
all had his approval and support, and in some
instances were carried out entirely at his own
expense. Henceforth the repertory of Russian
music-dramas was not permitted to languish,
and after the death of Tchaikovsky, the Direc-
torate of the Opera Houses seems to have turned
to Rimsky-Korsakov in the expectation of at
least one novelty in each season. Consequently
his achievement in this sphere of music far

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 295

exceeds that of his immediate predecessors and
contemporaries, amounting in all to thirteen
operatic works. Of this number, none can be
said to have been really a failure, and only one
has dropped completely out of the repertory of
the two capitals and the provinces, although
some are undoubtedly more popular than
others. To speak in detail of all these works
would require a volume devoted to the subject.
1 propose, therefore, to give a brief account of
the greater number, devoting a little more space
to those which seem most likely ever to be given
in this country.

The two operas which follow in 1879 an^
1880, while possessing many features in common
with each other, differ wholly in character from
The Maid of Pskov. In A Night in May and
The Snow Maiden (" Sniegourochka ") the
dramatic realism of historical opera gives place
to lyrical inspiration and the free flight of
fancy. A Night in May is taken from one of
Gogol's Malo-Russian tales. The Snow Maiden :
a Legend of Springtide is founded upon a
national epic by the dramatist Ostrovsky.
Both operas offer that combination of legendary,
picturesque and humorous elements which
always exercised an attraction for Rimsky-
Korsakov's musical temperament. In both
works he shows that he has attained to a
supreme mastery of orchestration, and the

296 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

accompaniments in every instance go far to
atone for his chief weakness — a certain dryness
of melodic invention, except where the style
of the melody coincides with that of the folk
tune. A Night in May reveals the composer
as a humorist of delicate and fantastic quality.
Rimsky-Korsakov's humour is entirely native
and individual, having nothing akin to the
broad, saturnine, biting wit of Moussorgsky,
nor to the vigorous humour of Borodin's comic
villains Eroshka and Skoula, in Prince Igor.
Rimsky-Korsakov can be sprightly, fanciful,
and arch ; his humour is more often expressed
by witty orchestral comments upon the text
than by the melodies themselves.

The first performance of A Night in May
took place at the Maryinsky Theatre, St.
Petersburg, in January 1880, but it was soon
withdrawn from the repertory and only revived
in 1894, at the Imperial Mikhailovsky Theatre.
In 1896 it was given at the Folk Theatre, in
Prague ; and produced for the first time in
Moscow in 1898. Besides being more lyrical
and melodious in character than The Maid of
Pskov, this opera shows evidences of Rimsky-
Korsakov's intervening studies in the contra-
puntal treatment of the choruses and concerted
numbers. The scene of A Night in May,
as in several of Gogol's tales, is laid near
the village of Dikanka in Little Russia. Levko

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 297

(tenor), the son of the Golova or Headman of
the hamlet, is in love with Hanna (mezzo-
soprano), but his father will not give consent to
the marriage, because he admires the girl
himself. In the first act Levko is discovered
serenading Hanna in the twilight. Presently
she emerges from her cottage and they sing a
love duet. Then Hanna asks Levko to tell her
the legend of the old deserted manor house
that stands beside the mere. He appears
reluctant, but finally relates how once a Pan (a
Polish gentleman) dwelt there with the Pan-
nochka, his fair daughter. He was a widower,
and married again, but his second wife proved
to be a witch who caused him to turn his
daughter out of the house. The girl in despair
drowned herself in the mere and became a
Roussalka. She haunted the lake at night, and
at last, catching her stepmother perilously near
the edge of the water, she lured her down into
its depths. Levko tells his sweetheart that the
present owner wants to erect a distillery on the
site of the mansion and has already sent a
distiller there. The lovers then say good-bye
and Hanna re-enters her cottage. Next follows
an episode in which the village drunkard
Kalenik (baritone) tries to dance the Gopak
while the village girls sing a chorus of mockery.
When the stage is empty the Headman (bass)
appears and sings a song to Hanna in which,

298 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

while he implores her to listen to his love, he
tells her that she ought to be very proud to have
him for a suitor. Hanna, however, will have
nothing to say to him. Levko, who has over-
heard this scene and wishes to teach his father
the lesson " of leaving other people's sweet-
hearts alone," points him out to some wood-
cutters on their way home from work and
encourages them to seize him and hold him up
to ridicule. The Headman, however, pushes
them aside and makes his escape. The act
ends with a song for Levko and the chorus of
woodcutters.

In the second act the curtain rises on the
interior of the Headman's hut, where, with his
sister-in-law and the Distiller, he is discussing
the fate of the old manor house. Levko and
the woodcutters are heard singing their im-
pertinent song outside the house. The Head-
man, beside himself with rage, rushes out and
catches one of the singers, who is dressed in a
sheepskin coat turned inside out. Now follows
a farcical scene of tumult ; the singer escapes,
and the Headman, by mistake, shuts up his
sister-in-law in a closet. There is a general hue
and cry after the culprit and the wrong people
are continually being arrested, including the
village drunkard Kalenik. In the last act
Levko is discovered singing a serenade to the
accompaniment of the Little-Russian bandoura

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 299

before the haunted manor house by the mere.
Apparently the wraith of the Pannochka appears
at one of the windows. Then the Roussalki
are seen on the edge of the lake, where they sit
weaving chaplets of water-plants. At the
request of the Pannochka-Roussalka, Levko
leads the choral dances with his bandoum.
Afterwards the Pannochka rewards him by
giving him a letter in which she orders the
Headman not to oppose Levko's marriage with
Hanna. When the dawn breaks, the Headman,
accompanied by the Scrivener, the Desyatsky
(a kind of village superintendent) and others,
arrive upon the scene, still in search of the
culprit, who proves to be his own son. Levko
gives the letter to his father, who feels obliged
to consent to the young people's marriage.
Hanna with her girl friends now come upon
the scene and the opera ends with a chorus of
congratulations to the bride and bridegroom.

Perhaps the most graceful of all Rimsky-
Korsakov's early operas is The Snow Maiden,
in the music of which he has reflected the
indelible impressions of a childhood spent amid
sylvan surroundings. There is something of
the same vernal impulsion in pages of The Snow
Maiden of which we are conscious in Wagner's
Forest Murmurs. What a profound loss to the
poetry of a nation is the disappearance of its
forests ! It is not only the rivers which grow

300 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

drier and poorer for the ruthless wielding of the
axe. None of Korsakov's operas show a greater
profusion of little lyrical gems than this one,
which embodies the Slavonic legend of the
spring. The Snow Maiden is the daughter of
jolly King Frost and the Fairy Spring. She is
brought up by her parents in the solitary
wintry woods, because envious Summer has
foretold her death when the first ray of sunlight
and love shall touch her icy beauty. But the
child is attracted by the songs of the shepherd
Lei, whom she has seen sporting with the
village girls in the meadows. She longs to lead
a mortal's life, and her parents unwillingly
consent, and confide her to a worthy peasant
couple who promise to treat her as a daughter.
The Fairy Spring bids her child to seek her should
she be in trouble — " you will find me by the lake-
side in the valley and I will grant your request
whatever it may be " are the parting words of
her mother. Then the Snow Maiden begins
her sad mortal existence. She admires the gay
shepherd, who does not respond to her fancy.
Mizgyr, a young Tatar merchant, falls madly
in love with her, and for her sake deserts his
promised bride Kupava. The passionate Ku-
pava appears at the Court of the king of Be-
rendei and demands justice. The fickle lover
makes but one defence : " O, Tsar/' he says,
" if you could but see the Snow Maiden." At

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 301

this juncture she appears, and the King, behold-
ing her beauty, cannot believe that she is
heartless. He promises her hand and rich
rewards to any one of his young courtiers who
can woo and win her before the next sunrise.
In a wonderful forest scene we are shown the
arcadian revels of the people of Berendei. Lei
makes love to the deserted Kupava ; while
Mizgyr pursues the Snow Maiden with his
passionate addresses. The wood-spirits inter-
fere on her behalf and Mizgyr gets lost in the
forest. The Snow Maiden sees Lei and Ku-
pava wandering together under the trees and
endeavours to separate them, but in vain. In
her trouble she remembers her mother and seeks
her by the lake-side. The Fairy Spring appears,
and moved by her daughter's entreaties, she
accords her the power to love like a mortal.
When the Snow Maiden sees Mizgyr again she
loses her heart to him, and speaks of the new,
sweet power of love which she feels stirring
within her. But even as she speaks, a ray of
sunlight pierces the clouds, and, falling on the
young girl, melts her body and soul into the
rising spring waters. Mizgyr, in despair, kills
himself, and the opera closes with a song of
thanksgiving to the Midsummer Sun.

The poetical death-scene of the Snow Maiden ;
Kupava's passionate love song and her incanta-
tion to the bees ; the pastoral songs of the

302 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

shepherd Lei ; the folk-song choruses ; some-
times with accompaniments for the gusslee ; the
fairy scene in the forest and the return of the
birds with the flight of winter — these things
cannot fail to charm those who have not
altogether outgrown the glamour of the world's
youth with its belief in the personification of
natural forces. This opera is truly national,
although it deals with legendary rather than
historical events. This, however, as M. Camille
Bellaigue points out, does not mean that its
nationality is superficial or limited. Speaking of
the wonderful scene in the palace of the King of
Berendei, where he is seen sitting on his throne
surrounded by a company of blind bards singing
solemn airs to the accompaniment of their
primitive harps, the French critic says : " Such
a chorus as this has nothing in common with
the official chorus of the courtiers in old-
fashioned opera. In the amplitude and ori-
ginality of the melody, in the vigour of the
arpeggio accompaniment, in the exotic savour
of the cadence and the tonality, we divine
something which belongs not merely to the
unknown but to infinitude. . . . But there is
something which the music of Rimsky-Korsakov
expresses with still greater force and charm,
with an originality which is at once both
stronger and sweeter, and that is the natural
landscape, the forms and colours, the very face

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 303

of Russia itself. In this respect the music is
something more than national, it is to a certain
extent native, like the soil and sky of the
country/'1

In 1889 Rimsky-Korsakov began a fourth
opera, the history of which is connected with
the co-operative tendency that distinguished
the national school of musicians. The com-
position of collective works was, I believe, one
of Balakirev's early ideals ; the Paraphrases, a
set of clever variations on a childish theme,
dedicated to Liszt by Borodin, Cui, Liadov and
Rimsky-Korsakov, and the Quartet in honour
of Balaiev are examples of this spirit of com-
bination. In 1872 Gedeonov, then Director of
the Opera, proposed that Borodin, Moussorgsky,
Cui and Rimsky-Korsakov should each under-
take one act of a ballet-opera for a plot of his
own providing, entitled Mlada. The music was
written, but lack of funds prevented the enter-
prise from being carried out, and each composer
utilised the material left on his hands in his own
way. Rimsky-Korsakov incorporated his share
with the fantastic scenes of A Night in May.
In 1889, however, he took up the subject once
more and Mlada was completed by the autumn
of the same year. Produced at the Maryinsky
Theatre in October 1892, it failed to win the

1 Impressions Musicales et Litteraires, par Camille
Bellaigue.

304 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

success it undoubtedly deserved. In the opera
the part of Prince Mstivoy was taken by
Stravinsky, and that of the Czech minstrel,
Liumir, by Dolina. In the ballet, the Shade
of Mlada was represented by the famous
"ballerina Petipa, and the Shade of Cleopatra
by Skorsiouka. The subject is taken from the
history of the Baltic Slavs in the ninth century ;
but although in this work he returns to an
historical episode, the composer does not go back
to the declamatory style of The Maid of Pskov.
Cheshikin considers that Mlada is highly effec-
tive from the theatrical point of view. More-
over, the old Slavonic character of the music
is cleverly maintained throughout, the ordinary
minor scale being replaced by the " natural
minor " (the ^olian Mode). The scenes repre-
senting the ancient Pagan customs of the Slavs
are highly picturesque and, except on the
grounds of its expensive setting, it is difficult
to understand why this work should have
passed out of the repertory of the Russian opera.
The most distinctly humorous of all Rimsky-
Korsakov's operas is the Christmas Eve Revels,
a subject also treated by Tchaikovsky under
the title of Cherevichek and re-published as Le
Caprice d'Oxane). The composer, as we have
seen, rarely went outside his own land for
literary material. But even within this circle
of national subjects there exist many shades

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV

305

of thought and sentiment. Gogol's characters
differ widely from those portrayed in such a
4 legend as " Sadko." The Malo-Russian and
Cossack population are more vivacious, and also
more dreamy and sentimental, than the Great
Russians. In fact the difference between the
inhabitants of the Ukraine and those of the
government of Novgorod is as great as that
between a southern Irishman and a Yorkshire-
man, and lies much in the same directions.

The Christmas Eve Revels opens with an
orchestral introduction, ' The Holy Night/'
descriptive of the serene beauty of the night
upon which the Christ Child came into the
world to put all the powers of darkness under
his feet. It is based upon two calm and solemn
themes, the first rather mystical in character,
the second of child-like transparency. But
with the rising of the curtain comes an entire
change of sentiment, and we are immediately
brought into an atmosphere of peculiarly national
humour. This sudden change from the mystical
to the grotesque recalls the Russian miracle plays
of the Middle Ages. The moon and stars are
shining on a Little-Russian village ; the hut of
Choub the Cossack occupies the central position.
Out of the chimney of one of the huts emerges
the witch-woman Solokha, riding upon a broom-
stick. She sings a very old " Kolyadka," or
Christmas song. Now the Devil appears upon

x

306 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the scene to enjoy the beauty of the night.
These shady characters confide their grievances
to each other. Solokha has a weakness for
the Cossack Choub, but her son Vakoula the
Smith is making love to Choub's beautiful
daughter Oxana, and this is a great hindrance
to her own plans, so she wishes to put an end
to the courtship if possible. To-night Choub
is going to supper with the Sacristan and
Vakoula is sure to take that opportunity of
visiting his sweetheart, who is, however, deaf to
all his entreaties. The Devil has his own
grudge against Vakoula, because he has drawn
a caricature of his satanic majesty upon the
wall of the village church. The Devil and the
Witch decide to help each other. They steal
the moon and stars and fly off, leaving the
village plunged in darkness. Ridiculous com-
plications occur. Choub and the Sacristan go
out, but wander round in a circle, and after a
time find themselves back at the Cossack's hut,
where Vakoula is making love to Oxana. In
the darkness Vakoula mistakes Choub for a
rival lover and drives him out of his own
courtyard. Matters are set right by the return
of the moon and stars, who have managed to
escape from the Devil and his companion.

In the end Oxana declares she will only
accept Vakoula on condition that he presents
her with a pair of the Empress's shoes. The

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 307

Smith departs upon this unpromising errand.
Thanks to his Cossack friends he finds his way
into the palace. During the festivities of the
evening, the Cossacks are called upon to
perform their national dances in order to amuse
the Court. The Empress, in high good humour,
is informed of Vakoula's quest, and good-
naturedly gives him her shoes. He returns in
triumph to his native village and marries his
capricious beauty.

Although Rimsky-Korsakov had apparently
abandoned the original operatic theories of the
new school, Dargomijsky's methods must still
have exercised some attraction for him, for in
1897 he set Poushkin's dramatic duologue
Mozart and Salieri without making the least
change in the text, and dedicated it to the
memory of the composer of The Stone Guest.
Its production by the Private Opera Company
at Moscow, in 1898, was memorable for a
wonderful interpretation by Shaliapin of the
part of Salieri. Mozart (tenor) was sung by
Shkafer, the conductor being Esposito. The
same artists sang in the work when it was given
in St. Petersburg in the following year. In
Mozart and Salieri, which is not called an opera
but merely a dramatic scene, we have melodic
recitative without any relapse into cantilena.
The declamation of the two musical heroes is
relieved and embellished by apt comments

3o8 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

heard in the accompaniments. For instance,
when Salieri speaks of a " simple scale/' a
scale is heard in the orchestra ; when he
mentions an organ, a pedal point is intro-
duced into the accompaniment. This sounds
extremely naive, but in reality this miniature
music-drama is remarkably clever as regards
craftsmanship and musical repartee. The style
of the work is completely in keeping with the
period — the eighteenth century — and excellent
imitations of Mozart's style occur when the
master sits down to the piano and plays
two tiny movements, allegretto semplice and
grave.

Rimsky-Korsakov wrote one more work in a
similar style to Mozart and Salieri, the Dramatic
Prologue in one act Boyarinya Vera Sheloga,
which was really intended to precede The Maid
of Pskov and elucidate the history of Olga, the
heroine of that opera. The little work was first
performed in this way by the Private Opera
Company at Moscow in 1898. It tells in fuller
detail the story of the two sisters Vera and
Nadejda Nassonov, to which Prince Tokmakov
refers in his conversation with Matouta in the
first act of The Maid of Pskov, and introduces
the Boyard Ivan Sheloga and Vlassievna, the
faithful nurse of the orphaned Olga. The work
contains a charming lullaby sung by Vera to
her little daughter. This number is published

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 309

apart from the Prologue and has become
extremely popular with amateur singers.

Sadko, A Legendary Opera (Opera-bylina), in
seven tableaux, composed between 1895-1896,
is a compromise between lyrical and declama-
tory opera so skilfully effected that this work
has come to be regarded as the perfect fruit of
Rimsky-Korsakov's maturity, and the most
complete exposition of his artistic creed. The
work was produced by the Private Opera
Company at Moscow in December, 1897, and
introduced to St. Petersburg by the same
company in the following year.

Sekar-Rojansky, a young tenor possessed
of a beautiful fresh voice, created the title role.
The work was received with extraordinary
enthusiasm, and shortly afterwards the Director-
ate of the Imperial Operas, who had at first
refused to consider it, took up the opera and
staged it with great magnificence. A. M.
Vaznietsov, brother of the artist who painted
the frescoes of the cathedral of Kiev, was sent
to Old Novgorod and other parts of northern
Russia to make sketches for the scenery. The
archaeological details and the landscapes on the
margin of Lake Ilmen were faithfully repro-
duced. The first performance took place at the
Maryinsky Theatre in January, 1901, under
Napravnik's direction ; on this occasion Davidov
impersonated the hero.

310 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

At the outset of his career, Rimsky-Korsakov
was attracted by this legend of the eleventh
century belonging to the Cycle of Novgorod.
Sadko is a poor but adventurous minstrel, often
referred to in the folk-songs as " the nightingale
of Novgorod/' He does not win his renown by
chivalrous actions and prowess in the field,
like Ilya Mouramets and the heroes of the Cycle
of Kiev. The Novgorodians were an energetic
but commercial race. Sadko, driven to des-
peration by poverty, lays a wager against the
rich merchants of Novgorod that he will catch
gold-fish in Lake Ilmen. The merchants stake
their goods, the minstrel all he has — a far more
valuable asset — " his dare-devil head," as the
legends say. How Sadko charms the Sea King
by his singing and playing upon the gusslee,
how he secures the gold-fish and, with them, all
the wealth of Novgorod, is told in the ballad of
Nejata, the young minstrel. After a while
Sadko grows restless in spite of his good fortune.
He sets sail with his fleet of merchant vessels in
search of fresh adventures. The ships are
overtaken by a tempest, and it becomes
necessary to propitiate the wrath of the Sea
King. Lots are cast, and the unlucky one
invariably falls to Sadko. It is characteristic
of the astute merchant-hero that he cheats in
every possible way in order to avert his doom 1
Finally, he is cast overboard and drifts away

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 311

upon a plank, clinging to his cherished gusslee :
a pagan Jonah; a Slavonic Arion. His adven-
tures at the bottom of the seas ; the Sea King's
welcome to his virtuoso-guest ; his efforts to
marry Sadko to one of his daughters ; the
procession of these beautiful sea-maidens —
some three hundred in number — demanding of
Sadko a judgment far more difficult and delicate
than anything Paris was called upon to pro-
nounce ; the cleverness with which Sadko
extricates himself from the difficult situation,
by selecting the only plain lady of the party, so
that there is no risk of permanently falling in
love with her and forgetting his wife in Nov-
gorod ; the wild glee of the Sea King at the
playing of the famous minstrel, and his dance,
which imperils the earth and can only be stopped
by the shattering of the precious gusslee ;
Sadko's return to his faithful and anxious wife
— all these incidents are set forth in the opera
with a Wagnerian luxury of stage accessories
and scenic effects.

As regards structure, Sadko combines — as I
have said — the lyrical and declamatory ele-
ments. It is pre-eminently a national opera
in which the composer has conveyed a truthful
picture of the customs and sentiments of an
archaic period. In Sadko we find many melodies
completely modal in character. The Sea Queen's
slumber song in the seventh scene is Dorian,

312 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Sadko's aria in the fifth scene is Phrygian, and
so on. The song of Nejata has an accompani-
ment for harps and pianino which gives the effect
of the gusslee.

Besides the national element, Rimsky-Kor-
sakov introduces characteristic songs of other
countries. In the scene in which Sadko gener-
ously restores to the merchants the goods won
from them in his wager, keeping only a fleet
of merchant vessels for himself, he requests
some of the foreign traders to sing the songs of
their distant lands. The Varangian guest sings
a song in a brisk, energetic rhythm, quite
Scandinavian in character ; the Venetian com-
plies with a graceful barcarolle, while the
Indian merchant charms the audience with an
Oriental melody of rare beauty. The musical
interest of Sadko is in fact very great.

If there is any truth in the suggestion
that Rimsky-Korsakov composed Mozart and
Salieri and dedicated it to Dargomijsky as a
kind of recantation of certain Wagnerian
methods, such as a limited use of leitmotifs to
which he had had recourse in Sadko, then his
return to the purely lyrical style in his ninth
opera, The Tsar's Bride (Tsar sky Nievesta), may
equally have been a kind of apology to the
memory of Glinka. But it seems far more
probable that he worked independently of all
such ideas and suited the musical style to the

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 313

subject of the opera. The Tsar's Bride, in
three acts, was produced by the Private Opera
Company at Moscow in 1899, Ippolitov-Ivanov
being the conductor. From Moscow it travelled
first to the provinces, and reached St.
Petersburg in the spring of 1900. As it is
perhaps the most popular of all Rimsky-
Korsakov's operas, and one that is likely to
find its way abroad, it is advisable to give some
account of the plot. It is based on one of
Mey's dramas, the subject of which had tem-
porarily attracted Borodin some twenty years
earlier. The Oprichnik Gryaznoy falls madly
in love with Martha, the beautiful daughter of a
merchant of Novgorod named Sobakin ; but
she is betrothed to the Boyard Lykov. Gryaz-
noy vows she shall never marry another, and
procures from Bomely, court-physician to Ivan
the Terrible, a magic potion which is to help
his cause. His former mistress Lioubasha over-
hears the conversation between the Oprichnik
and Bomely. She makes a desperate effort to
win Gryaznoy back to her, but in vain. In the
second act the people are coming away from
vespers and talking about the Tsar's choice of a
bride. Martha, with two companions, comes
out of the church. While she is standing alone,
two men emerge from the shadow of the houses,
one of whom is Ivan the Terrible in disguise.
He gazes intently at Martha and then goes his

314 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

way, leaving her vaguely terrified. Meanwhile
Lioubasha has been watching Martha from a
window. Then she in her turn goes to Bomely
and asks him for some potion that will injure
her rival. He replies that he will give her
what she requires, but the price of it will be a kiss
from her lips. Reluctantly she consents. In
the third act, Lykov and Gryaznoy are seated
at table with the merchant Sobakin, who has
just informed them that the wedding of Lykov
and Martha must be postponed. Lykov asks
Gryaznoy what he would do in his place if by
any chance the Tsar's choice should fall upon
Martha. The Oprichnik gives an evasive
answer. Meanwhile, in one of the cups of mead
poured out by the host, he drops his magic
potion, and when Martha joins them at table
he offers it to her to drink. Suddenly the
maidservant rushes in with the news that a
deputation of boyards has arrived, and a moment
later Maliouta enters to announce that the
Tsar has chosen Martha to be his bride. In the
final scene, which takes place in an apartment in
the Tsar's palace, Sobakin is seen bewailing his
daughter's illness. Gryaznoy enters with an
order from Ivan to inquire after her health.
The Oprichnik believes that her illness is caused
by the potion he administered. Presently
Maliouta with the rest of the Oprichniki come
upon the scene. Gryaznoy informs Martha

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 315

that her former suitor Lykov, having confessed
to the fiendish design of poisoning her, has been
executed by order of the Tsar. Martha gives a
cry and becomes unconscious. When she
comes to herself her mind is affected, and she
mistakes Gryaznoy for her lover Lykov, calling
him " Ivan " and speaking caressingly to him.
Gryaznoy now sees that his plot for getting rid
of Lykov has been a failure. Touched by
Martha's madness he is prepared to give himself
up to Maliouta for judgment ; but the latter
gives him an opportunity of inquiring into the
deception played upon by him Bomely. Liou-
basha now comes forward and confesses that
she changed the potion. Gryaznoy stabs her
and then imploring Martha's forgiveness,
quits the scene, while the poor mad girl, still
mistaking him for her lost lover, cries after him
" Come back to-morrow, my Ivan."

The music of The Tsar's Bride is melodious ;
and the orchestration, though simpler than is
generally the case with Rimsky-Korsakov, is
not lacking in variety and colour. Though by
no means the strongest of his operas, it seems to
exercise a great attraction for the public ;
possibly because its nationalism is less strenu-
ously demonstrated than in some of its pre-
decessors.

The Legend of Tsar Saltan, of his Son the
famous and doughty Warrior, Prince Gvidon

316 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Saltanovich, and of the beautiful Tsarevna Liebed
(the Swan-queen), an opera in four acts with a
Prologue, the libretto drawn from Poushkin's
poem of the same title, was produced by the
Private Opera Company in Moscow in December
1906. Previously to the first performance of
the work, an orchestral suite consisting of three
of the entr'actes was played in St. Peters-
burg at one of the concerts of the I. R. M. S.
The work follows the model of Sadko rather
than that of purely lyrical operas. Here Rim-
sky-Korsakov makes a more extended and
systematic use of the leitmotif. The leading
characters, Saltan, Militrissa, Tsarevna Liebed
and the Sea Rovers, have their characteristic
themes, but a number of minor motives are
used in connection with particular sentiments
and even to represent various natural objects.
The story, which is too long to give in all its
details, deals with the adventures of Tsar
Saltan and the Three Sisters ; the two elders-
recalling the story of Cinderella — are jealous of
the youngest Militrissa who marries the Tsar's
son, and during Saltan's absence from home
they revenge themselves upon her by sending
a false message announcing that she has borne
her husband a daughter instead of a son. The
tale offers a strange mixture of the fantastic
and the realistic. The opera is remarkable for
its fine orchestral numbers and the novelty and

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 317

brilliancy of its instrumentation, and for the
free use of folk melodies. 1

In his eleventh opera, Servilia, Rimsky-
Korsakov makes one of his rare excursions in
search of a subject outside Russian folk-lore or
history. The libretto is based upon a drama
by his favourite author Mey, but the scene of
the plot is laid in Rome. In Servilia Rimsky-
Korsakov returns once more to the declamatory
style, as exemplified in Mozart and Salieri,
without, however, entirely abandoning the use
of the leitmotif. The first performance of the
work took place at the Maryinsky Theatre in
the autumn of 1902. Servilia's passionate love
for the Tribune Valerius Rusticus, from which
she suddenly turns on her conversion to
Christianity in the last act of the opera, offers
considerable opportunities for psychological
delineation. But " the inward strife between
her pagan passion and ascetic instincts/' says
Cheshikin, " is not enacted on the stage ; it
takes place chiefly behind the scenes and the

1 There are no less than ten true folk-themes contained
in the opera of Tsar Saltan. The theme of the Elder
Sisters, in the Introduction, maybe found in Rimsky-Kor-
sakov's collection of National Songs, No. 24, communicated
by Balakirev. The theme of the Tale of the Old Grand-
father is a street cry ("Any fruit or greens"); a theme
used by the Prince Gvidon is taken from a child's song, No.
66, in Korsakov's collection ; others may be found in the
same volume ; also in the collections of Stakhovich and
Prach.

3i8 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

spectator is shown only the result." It is not
surprising that the success of the opera does
not lie in the delineation of the heroine but in
certain interesting details, and especially in the
skilful use of local colour. The Hymn to
Athena in the first act ; the Anacreontic song
for Montanus in the second act (in the Mixo-
lydian), with its characteristic figures of accom-
paniment for flute ; the Dance of the Maenads ;
and a graceful Spinning-song for female voices
in the third act, are the most successful numbers
in the work. On the whole, Servilia is regarded
by Russian critics as a retrograde step after
Sadko and Tsar Saltan.

Kastchei the Immortal is described as "a
legend of the autumn" in one act and three scenes,
with uninterrupted music throughout. The
sketch of the libretto was given to the composer
by E. M. Petrovsky and is a free adaptation of
a very old fairy tale. The opera was produced
by the Private Opera Company in Moscow in
1902, and aroused a good deal of comment in
consequence of several new procedures on the
part of the composer, revealing a more decisive
tendency to follow in the steps of Wagner. The
charge of imitation is based upon the use of
leitmotifs and also upon the content of the
libretto, in which, as in many of Wagner's
operas, the idea of redemption plays a prominent
part. Kastcheievna, the daughter of the wicked

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 319

wizard Kastchei, is redeemed by intense suffer-
ing from her own jealous fury, when she lets
fall a tear, in the crystal sphere of which Kastchei
has enclosed his own fate. But Rimsky-Kor-
sakov does not give us merely an internal drama
in the Wagnerian sense, for we see enacted upon
the stage the wholly external drama of the
rescue of the unhappy Tsarevna, spell-bound
by the evil Kastchei, at the hands of Ivan
Korolevich. The opera ends with the downfall
of the barriers which shut out the gloomy,
autumnal, sin-oppressed kingdom of Kastchei
from the happier world outside. " This sym-
bolism," says Cheshikin, " may be taken in its
widest acceptation ; but in anything which is
freed from a despotic power, our public is
prepared to see a social tendency which is to their
taste and they applaud it with satisfaction."
Kastchei chanced to be the opera which was
represented in St. Petersburg (in March, 1905)
at the moment when Rimsky-Korsakov was
expelled from his professorship at the Con-
servatoire in consequence of his frank criticisms
of the existing bureaucracy, and each repre-
sentation was made the occasion of an ovation
in his honour. The opera contains many fine
moments, such as the fierce chorus — a kind of
trepak — sung by the snow-spirits at the close
of the first act ; the two contrasting love-
duets, one which Ivan Korolevich sings with

320 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Kastcheievna, and a later one in which the
Tsarevna takes part, in the third act ; and the
sinister slumber-song which the unhappy
Tsarevna is forced to sing for Kastchei, while
wishing that his sleep was the sleep of death, is
distinguished for its marked originality. As
regards harmony, Rimsky-Korsakov in Kastchei
indulges in a good deal that is piquant and
unusual ; there is much chromaticism in the
fantastic scenes and a general tendency to what
one critic describes as " studied cacophany,"
which is unusual in the work of this composer.
Kastchei stands out as one of the most Wag-
nerian among Russian operas.

Pan Voyevode was completed in 1903, and
produced by the Private Opera Company in St.
Petersburg in October, 1904. The scene of the
libretto is laid in Poland about the beginning
of the seventeenth century, and the story
concerns the love affairs of Chaplinsky, a young
nobleman, and Maria, a poor orphan girl of good
family. While out hunting, Pan Voyevode —
governor of the district — sees Maria and loses
his heart to her. At his command the lovers
are separated by force, and the Voyevode
declares his intention of marrying Maria. Yad-
viga, a rich widow, who has claims upon the
Voyevode, determines to prevent the marriage
at any cost. She takes counsel with a sorcerer,
from whom she procures poison. The prepara-

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 321

tions for the wedding are all made, and the
Voyevode is entertaining his friends at a
banquet, when Yadviga appears, an uninvited
guest, to warn him that Chaplinsky and his
friends are coming to effect the rescue of Maria.
At the banquet Maria sings the " Song of the
Swan," but its yearning sadness oppresses the
Voyevode and his guests. Suddenly the injured
lover bursts into the hall with his followers and
a wud scuffle ensues. In the last act, Chaplinsky
having been taken prisoner and condemned to
death, the interrupted festival recommences.
in the meantime Yadviga has poured poison
into Maria's goblet. Needless to say that in
the end the cups get changed and it is the
Voyevode who drinks the fatal potion. Maria
after a prayer by his dead body, orders the
release of Chaplinsky and all ends happily.
Pan Voyevode gives occasion for a whole series
I Polish dances, a Krakoviak, a Kazachok,
or Cossack dance, a Polonaise, and a Mazurka.
I he incantation scene, when Yadviga seeks the
sorcerer, and the Song of the Swan are favourite
numbers in the work. Pan Voyevode was
produced m Moscow in 1905 under the conductor-
ship of Rachmaninov.

The idea of the Legendary Opera, The Tale of
the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden
Fevroma, was in Rimsky-Korsakov's mind for
nearly ten years before he actually composed

322 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

the work between 1903-1905- The first Per"
formance in St. Petersburg took place at
Maryinsky Theatre early in the spring of 1907,
and Moscow heard the opera in the following
season. The opera starts with an orchestral
introduction based upon a folk-melody. There
is great charm in the opening scene laid in the
forests surrounding Little Kitezh, where Fev-
ronia is discovered sitting among the tall
grasses and singing a song in praise of all living
creatures. There she is joined by a bear, and
a crane, and other birds, all of which she wel-
comes as friends ; and there the young Prince
Vsievolod sees her and loses his heart to the
beautiful child of nature. Their love scene is
interrupted by the sound of horns, introducing
a company of archers in search of the Prince.
Fevronia then finds out her lover's identity.
The next act shows the market-place in Little
Kitezh crowded with all manner of archaic
Russian types : a showman leading a bear a
minstrel singing and playing the gusslee, old
men and women, young men and girls— one
of those animated canvases which recall cer-
tain pages in Moussorgsky's operas and are
the precursors of similar scenes in Stravin-
sky's Petroushka. Some " Superior People " are
grumbling at the marriage of the Prince to the
unknown and homeless girl Fevronia. Sool
the bride appears accompanied by the wedding

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 323

procession. She receives the congratulations
of the populace, but the " Superior People "
show some disdain. Suddenly a fresh group of
people rush on in terror, followed by the Tatars
who break up the crowd and seize Fevronia.
Under threats of torture they compel the crazy
drunkard Kouterma to guide them to Kitezh the
Great. Fevronia puts up a prayer for the city
as the Tatars carry her off on one of their rough
carts.

The scene changes to Kitezh the Great,
where the old Prince and his son, the bride-
groom, are listening to the account given by the
fugitives of the destruction of Little Kitezh by
the Tatars. All are horrified to hear that
Fevronia has fallen into their ruthless hands.
The Prince assembles his soldiers and goes out
to meet the enemy. While the women are
singing a chorus of lamentation, the church bell
begins to ring of its own accord. The old
Prince declares it is a miraculous sign that the
town will be saved. The curtain rises next on
the Tatar encampment on the shores of the
Shining Lake. Fevronia in despair is still
sitting in the Tatars' cart. The half-crazy
Kouterma has been bound hand and foot
because the Tatars suspected him. Their two
leaders have fought ; one is left dead on the
ground ; all the others have fallen asleep. Fev-
ronia takes a knife from the dead Tatar chief

324 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

and cuts Kouterma's bonds. He is about to
escape when the sound of a bell arrests him.
rushes madly to the lake with the intention of
drowning himself, but at that moment a ray c
sunlight falls on the water in which he see
reflected the city of Kitezh the Invisible,
he really makes his escape, taking Fevronia with
him The Tatars are awakened, and running
to the edge of the lake, they, too, see the
miraculous reflection and exclaim in terror;.
" Awful in truth is the God of the Russians.

Fevronia passes some terrible hours alone in
the gloom of the enchanted forest with Kou-
terma ; but she prays, and presently he leaves
her Then little lamps appear in the trees, and
gold and silver flowers spring up in the grass,
while the Paradise Birds, Aklonost and Sirin,
sing to comfort her. Aklonost tells her he is
the messenger of death. She rephes that she
has no fear of death, and weaves herself a
garland of immortal flowers. Presently the
the spirit of the young Prince appears to her.
He tells her that he has been killed ' but now,
he says, "thank God, I am alive." He gives
Fevronia some bread, bidding her eat before she
SSs on her long journey ; « who tastes our
bread knows eternal happiness
Fevronia eats and throws some of the crumbs
to il birds ; then with a prayer, "Chnst receive
me into the habitations of the just,

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 325

disappears with the spirit of the Prince. After
an orchestral interlude, the curtain rises upon
the apotheosis of the City of Kitezh, and the
Paradise Birds are heard proclaiming : " The
Celestial gates are open to us ; time has ceased ;
Eternity has begun." The people come out to
welcome Fevronia and the Prince, and sing their
epithalamium. Fevronia now learns that Kitezh
did not fall, but only disappeared ; that the
northern lights bore the prayers of the just to
heaven; and also the cause of the blessed
and miraculous sound heard by Kouterma. Then
the Prince leads his bride into the cathedral
while the people sing : " Here shall there be
no more tears or sorrow, but everlasting joy
and peace. "

Rimsky-Korsakov died of angina pectoris on
June 8th, 1908 at Lioubensk, near St. Peters-
burg, where he was spending the summer with
his family. In the previous year he had
finished his last opera The Golden Cock, the
production of which was not sanctioned by the
Censor during the composer's lifetime. It is
said that this vexation, following upon his
difficulties with the authorities of the Con-
servatoire, helped to hasten his end.

The Golden Cock is composed to a libretto by
V. Bielsky, based upon Poushkin's well-known
poem. The author of the book says in his
preface to the opera : " the purely human

326 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

nature of Poushkin's Golden Cock — that instruc-
tive tragi-comedy of the unhappy consequences
folio wing upon mortal passions and weaknesses —
permits us to place the plot in any region and in
any period." In spite of the Eastern origin of
the tale, and the Italian names, Duodo and
Guidone, all which constitutes the historical char-
acter of the story and recalls the simple customs
and the daily life of the Russian people, with its
crude, strong colouring, its exuberance and
liberty, so dear to the artist. The work opens
with a Prologue, in which the Astrologer tells
us that although the opera is

"A fairy-tale, not solid truth,
It holds a moral good for youth/'

In the first scene we are introduced to a hall in
the Palace of King Dodon, where he is holding
a council with his Boyards. He tells them that
he is weary of kingly responsibilities and
especially of the perpetual warfare with his
hostile neighbours, and that he longs to rest for a
while. First he asks the advice of his heir,
Prince Gvidon, who says that instead of fighting
on the frontier he should withdraw his troops
and let them surround the capital, which should
first be well provisioned. Then, while the
enemy was destroying the rest of the country,
the King might repose and think of some new
way of circumventing him. But the old
Voyevode Polkan does not approve of the

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 327

project, for he thinks it will be worse to have the
hostile army surrounding the city, and perhaps
attacking the King himself. Nor does he agree
with the equally foolish advice of the King's
younger son Aphron. Very soon the whole
assembly is quarrelling as to the best way out
of the difficulty, when the Astrologer arrives
upon the scene. He offers King Dodon a
present of a Golden Cock which would always
give warning in case of danger. At first the
King does not believe him, but the cock is
brought in and cries at once : " Kikeriki,
kikerikou ! Be on your guard, mind what
you do ! " The King is enchanted and feels
that he can now take his ease. He offers to
give the Astrologer whatever reward he asks.
The latter replies that he does not want
treasures or honours, but a diploma drawn
up in legal form. " Legal/' says the King,
" I don't know what you mean. My desires
and caprices are the only laws here ; but you
may rest assured of my gratitude." Dodon's
bed is brought in, and the chatelaine of the
Palace tucks him up and keeps watch by him
until he falls into a sound sleep. Suddenly
the shrill crowing of the Golden Cock awakens
the King and all his attendants. The first
time this happens he has to send his unwilling
sons to the war ; the second time he is obliged
to go himself. There is a good deal of comic

328 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

business about the departure of the King, who is
obviously afraid of his warhorse.

In the second act Dodon and the Voyevode
Polkan, with their army, come to a narrow pass
among the rocks which has evidently been the
scene of a battle. The corpses of the warriors
lie pale in the moonlight, while birds of prey
hover around the spot. Here Dodon comes
suddenly upon the dead bodies of his two sons,
who have apparently killed each other. The
wretched, egotistical king is reduced to tears at
the sight. His attention is soon distracted, for,
as the distant mist clears away, he perceives
under the shelter of the hillside a large tent lit
up by the first rays of the sun. He thinks it is
the tent of the hostile leader, and Polkan
endeavours to lead on the timid troops in hopes
of capturing him. But, to the great astonish-
ment of the King and his Voyevode, a beautiful
woman emerges from the tent followed by her
slaves bearing musical instruments. She sings
a song of greeting to the dawn. Dodon
approaches and asks her name. She replies
modestly, with downcast eyes, that she is the
Queen of Shemakha. Then follows a long
scene in which she lures on the old King until he
is hopelessly infatuated with her beauty. Her
recital of her own attractions is made without
any reserve, and soon she has completely turned
Dodon's head. She insists on his singing, and

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 329

mocks at his unmusical voice ; she forces him to
dance until he falls exhausted to the ground,
and laughs at his uncouth movements. This
scene really constitutes the ballet of the opera.
Finally the Queen of Shemakha consents to
return to his capital and become his bride.
Amid much that is genuinely comic there are
a few touches of unpleasant realism in this
scene, in which the ineffectual, indolent, and
sensual old King is fooled to the top of his
bent by the capricious and heartless queen.
Here we have travelled far from the beautiful
idealism of The City of Kitezh ; the humour of
the situation has a sharp tang to it which belies
the spirit of Poushkin and Russian humour in
general ; we begin to speculate as to whether
Bielsky has not studied to some purpose the plays
of George Bernard Shaw, so much read in Russia.
The curtain rises in the third act upon
another of those scenes of bustle and vigorous
movement characteristic of Russian opera.
The people are awaiting the return of King
Dodon. " Jump and dance, grin and bow,
show your loyalty but don't expect anything in
return," says the sardonic chatelaine, Amelfa.
There enters a wonderful procession which
reminds us of an Eastern fairy tale : the
advance guard of the King ; the Queen of
Shemakha, in a bizarre costume, followed by a
grotesque cortege of giants, dwarfs, and black

330 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

slaves. The spectacle for the time being allays
the evident anxiety of the people. As the
King and Queen pass by in their golden chariot
the former appears aged and care-worn ; but he
gazes on his companion with uxorious tender-
ness. The Queen shows evident signs of bore-
dom. At this juncture the Astrologer makes
his appearance and a distant storm, long
threatening, bursts over the city. The King
gives a flattering welcome to the Astrologer and
expresses his readiness to. reward him for the
gift of the Golden Cock. The Astrologer asks
nothing less than the gift of the Queen of
Shemakha herself. The King refuses with in-
dignation, and orders the soldiers to remove
the Astrologer. But the latter resists, and
reminds Dodon once more of his promise. The
King, beside himself with anger, hits the
Astrologer on the head with his sceptre. General
consternation in the crowd. The Queen laughs
a cold, cruel laugh, but the King is terrified,
for he perceives that he has killed the Astrologer.
He tries to recover himself and takes comfort
from the presence of the Queen, but now she
openly throws off all pretence of affection and
drives him away from her. Suddenly the Cock
gives out a shrill, threatening cry ; he flies on
to the King's head and with one blow of his
beak pierces his skull. The King falls dead.
A loud clap of thunder is followed by darkness,

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 331

during which the silvery laugh of the Queen is
heard. When it grows light again Queen and
Cock have both disappeared. The unhappy and
bewildered people sing a chorus of regret for the
King : " Our Prince without a peer, was
prudent, wise, and kind ; his rage was terrible,
he was often implacable ; he treated us like
dogs ; but when once his rage was over he was
a Golden King. O terrible disaster ! Where
shall we find another king ! " The opera
concludes with a short Epilogue in which the
Astrologer bids the spectators dry their tears,
since the whole story is but fiction, and in the
kingdom of Dodon there were but two real
human beings, himself and the Queen.

The music of this opera is appropriately wild
and barbaric. We feel that in spite of forty
years development it is essentially the work of
the same temperament that produced the
Symphonic Poems "Sadko" and the Oriental
symphony " Antar."

A close study of the works of Rimsky-
Korsakov reveals a distinguished musical per-
sonality ; a thinker ; a fastidious and exquisite
craftsman; in a word — an artist of a refined
and discriminating type who concerns himself
very little with the demands and appreciation
of the general public. Outside Russia, he has
been censured for his subserviency to national
influences, his exclusive devotion to a patriotic

332 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

ideal. On the other hand, some Russian critics
have accused him of introducing Wagnerism
into national opera. This is only true in so far
that he has grafted upon opera of the older, more
melodic type the effective employment of some
modern methods, more particularly the moderate
use of the leitmotif. As regards orchestration, I
have already claimed for him the fullest recog-
nition. He has a remarkable faculty for the
invention of new, brilliant, prismatic orchestral
effects, and is a master in the skilful employ-
ment of onomatopoeia. Those who assert — not
entirely without reason — that Rimsky-Korsakov
is not a melodist of copious and vivid inspiration
must concede the variety, colour, independence
and flashing wit of his accompaniments. This
want of balance between the essential and
accessory is certainly a characteristic of his
music. Some of his songs and their accompani-
ments remind me of those sixteenth-century
portraits in which some slim, colourless, but
distinguished Infanta is gowned in a robe of
brocade rich enough to stand by itself, without
the negative aid of the wearer.

Rimsky-Korsakov does not correspond to our
stereotyped idea of the Russian temperament.
He is not lacking in warmth of feeling, which
kindles to passion in some of his songs ; but his
moods of exaggerated emotion are very rare.
His prevailing tones are bright and serene, and

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV 333

occasionally flushed with glowing colour. If
he rarely shocks our hearts, as Moussorgsky
does, into a poignant realisation of darkness
and despair, neither has he any of the hysterical
tendency which sometimes detracts from the
impressiveness of Tchaikovsky's cris de cceur.

When a temperament, musically endowed,
sees its subject with the direct and observant
vision of the painter, instead of dreaming it
through a mist of subjective exaltation, we get
a type of mind that naturally tends to a pro-
gramme, more or less clearly defined. Rimsky-
Korsakov belongs to this class. Labelled or
not, we feel in all his music the desire to depict.

This representative of a school, reputed to be
revolutionary, who has arrayed himself in the
full panoply of musical erudition and scholarly
restraint ; this poet whose imagination revels
in the folk-lore of Russia and the fantastic
legends of the East ; this professor who has
written fugues and counterpoints by the dozen ;
this man who looked like an austere school-
master, and can on occasion startle us with
an almost barbaric exuberance of colour and
energy, offers, to my mind, one of the most
fascinating analytical studies in all contemporary
music.

CHAPTER XIII

TCHAIKOVSKY

TYPICALLY Russian by temperament
and in his whole attitude to life;
cosmopolitan in his academic training
and in his ready acceptance of Western ideals ;
Tchaikovsky, although the period of his activity
coincided with that of Balakirev, Cui, and
Rimsky-Korsakov, cannot be included amongst
the representatives of the national Russian
school. His ideals were more diffused, and
his ambitions reached out towards more uni-
versal appreciation. Nor had he any of the
communal instincts which brought together
and cemented in a long fellowship the circle of
Balakirev. He belonged in many respects to
an older generation, the " Byroniacs," the in-
curable pessimists of Lermontov's day, to whom
life appeared as " a journey made in the night
time." He was separated from the nationalists,
too, by an influence which had been gradually
becoming obliterated in Russian music since the
time of Glinka — I allude to the influence of
Italian

TCHAIKOVSKY 335

The first aesthetic impressions of an artist's
childhood are rarely quite obliterated in his
subsequent career. We may often trace some
peculiar quality of a man's genius back to the
very traditions he imbibed in the nursery.
Tchaikovsky's family boasted no skilled per-
formers, and, being fond of music, had an orches-
trion sent from the capital to their official resi-
dence among the Ural Mountains. Peter Ilich,
then about six years old, was never tired of hearing
its operatic selections ; and in after life declared
that he owed to this mechanical contrivance his
passion for Mozart and his unchanging affection
for the music of the Italian school.

It is certain that while Glinka was influenced
by Beethoven, Serov by Wagner and Meyerbeer,
Cui by Chopin and Schumann, Balakirev and
Rimsky-Korsakov by Liszt and Berlioz, Tchai-
kovsky never ceased to blend with the char-
acteristic melody of his country an echo of the
sensuous beauty of the South. This reflection
of what was gracious and ideally beautiful in
Italian music is undoubtedly one of the secrets
of Tchaikovsky's great popularity with the
public. It is a concession to human weakness
of which we gladly avail ourselves ; although, as
moderns, we have graduated in a less sensuous
school, we are still willing to worship the old
gods of melody under a new name.

Tchaikovsky began quite early in life to

336 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

frequent the Italian Opera in St. Petersburg ;
consequently his musical tastes developed far
earlier on the dramatic than on the symphonic
side. He knew and loved the operatic master-
pieces of the Italian and French schools long
before he knew the Symphonies of Beethoven or
any of Schumann's works. His first opera,
The Voyevode, was composed about a year after
he left the St. Petersburg Conservatoire, in 1866.
He had just been appointed professor of
harmony at Moscow, but was still completely
unknown as a composer. At this time he was
fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of
the great dramatist Ostrovsky, who generously
offered to supply his first libretto. In spite of
the prestige of the author's name, it was not
altogether satisfactory, for Ostrovsky had origin-
ally written The Voyevode as a comedy in five
acts, and in adapting it to suit the requirements
of conventional opera many of its best features
had to be sacrificed.

The music was pleasing and quite Italian in
style. The work coincides with Tchaikovsky's
orchestral fantasia " Fatum " or " Destiny,"
and also with the most romantic love-episode of
his life — his fascination for Madame Desire-
Artot, then the star of Italian Opera in Moscow.
Thus all things seemed to combine at this
juncture in his career to draw him to dramatic
art, and especially towards Italianised opera.

TCHAIKOVSKY 337

The Voyevode, given at the Grand Opera,
Moscow, in January, 1869, provoked the most
opposite critical opinions. It does not seem to
have satisfied Tchaikovsky himself for, having
made use of some of the music in a later opera
(The Oprichnik), he destroyed the greater part
of the score.

The composers second operatic attempt was
made with Undine. This work, submitted to
the Director of the Imperial Opera in St.
Petersburg in 1869, was rejected, and the score
mislaid by some careless official. When, after
some years, it was discovered and returned to
the composer, he put it in the fire without
remorse. Neither of these immature efforts
are worth serious consideration as affecting the
development of Russian opera.

The Oprichnik was begun in January 1870,
and completed in April 1872. Tchaikovsky
attacked this work in a complete change of spirit.
This time his choice fell upon a purely national
and historical subject. Lajechnikov's tragedy
"The Oprichnik" is based upon an episode
of the period of Ivan the Terrible, and possesses
qualities whch might well appeal to a composer
of romantic proclivities. A picturesque setting ;
dramatic love and political intrigue; a series
of effective — even sensational — situations, and
finally several realistic pictures from national
life ; all these things might have been turned to

z

338 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

excellent account in the hands of a skilled
librettist. Unluckily the book was not well
constructed, while, in order to comply with the
demands of the Censor, the central figure of the
tragedy — the tyrant himself — had to be reduced
to a mere nonentity. The most serious error,
however, was committed by Tchaikovsky him-
self, when he grafted upon The Oprichnik, with
its crying need for national colour and special
treatment, a portion of the pretty Italianised
music of The Voyevode. The interpolation of
half an act from a comedy subject into the
libretto of an historical tragedy confused the
action without doing much to relieve the lurid
and sombre atmosphere of the piece.

The " Oprichniki," as we have already seen
in Rubinstein's opera The Bold Merchant Kalash-
nikov, were the " Bloods " and dandies of the
court of Ivan the Terrible — young noblemen
of wild and dissolute habits who bound them-
selves together by sacrilegious vows to protect
the tyrant and carry out his evil desires. Their
unbridled insolence, the tales of their Black
Masses and secret crimes, and their utter
disrespect for age or sex, made them the terror
of the populace. Sometimes they masqueraded
in the dress of monks, but they were in reality
robbers and murderers, hated and feared by the
people whom they oppressed.

Here is the story of The Oprichnik briefly

TCHAIKOVSKY 339

stated : Andrew Morozov, the descendant of a
noble but impoverished house, and the only son
of the widowed Boyarinya Morozova, is in love
with the beautiful Natalia, daughter of Prince
Jemchoujny. His poverty disqualifies him as a
suitor. While desperately in need of money,
Andrew falls in with Basmanov, a young
Oprichnik, who persuades him to join the
community, telling him that an Oprichnik can
always fill his own pockets. Andrew consents,
and takes the customary oath of celibacy.
Afterwards, circumstances cause him to break
his vow and marry Natalia against her father's
wish. Prince Viazminsky, the leader of the
Oprichniki, cherishes an old grudge against the
family of Morozov, and works for Andrew's
downfall. On his wedding-day he breaks in
upon the feast with a message from the Tsar.
Ivan the Terrible has heard of the bride's
beauty, and desires her attendance at the royal
apartments. Andrew, with gloomy forebodings
in his heart, prepares to escort his bride, when
Viazminsky, with a meaning smile, explains
that the invitation is for the bride alone.
Andrew refuses to let his wife go into the
tyrant's presence unprotected. Viazminsky pro-
claims him a rebel and a traitor to his vows.
Natalia is carried away by force, and the
Oprichniki lead Andrew into the market-place
to suffer the death-penalty at their hands.

340 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Meanwhile Boyarinya Morozova, who had cast
off her son when he became an Oprichnik, has
softened towards him, and comes to see him on
his wedding-day. She enters the deserted hall
where Viazminsky, alone, is gloating over the
success of his intrigue. She inquires un-
suspectingly for Andrew, and he leads her to
the window. Horror-stricken, she witnesses the
execution of her own son by his brother
Oprichniki, and falls dead at the feet of her
implacable enemy.

During its first season, this work was given
fourteen times ; so that its success — for a
national opera — may be reckoned decidedly
above the average. Those who represented the
advanced school of musical opinion in Russia
condemned its forms as obsolete. Cui, in
particular, called it the work of a schoolboy who
knew nothing of the requirements of the lyric
drama, and pronounced it unworthy to rank
with such masterpieces of the national school
as Moussorgsky's Boris Godounov or Rimsky-
Korsakov's Maid of Pskov.

But the most pitiless of critics was Tchaikov-
sky himself, who declared that he always took
to his heels during the rehearsals of the third
and fourth acts to avoid hearing a bar of the
music. " Is it not strange," he writes, " that
in process of composition it seemed charming ?
But what disenchantment followed the first

TCHAIKOVSKY 341

rehearsals ! It has neither action, style, nor
inspiration ! "

Both judgments are too severe. The Oprich-
nik is not exactly popular, but it has never
dropped out of the repertory of Russian opera.
Many years ago I heard it in St. Petersburg,
and noted my impressions. The characters,
with the exception of the Boyarinya Morozova,
are not strongly delineated ; the subject is lurid,
" horror on horror's head accumulates " ; the
Russian and Italian elements are incongruously
blended ; yet there are saving qualities in the
work. Certain moments are charged with the
most poignant dramatic feeling. In this opera,
even as in the weakest of Tchaikovsky's music,
there is something that appeals to our common
humanity. The composer himself must have
modified his early judgment, since he was
actually engaged in remodelling The Oprichnik
at the time of his death.

In 1872 the Grand Duchess Helena Pavlovna
commissioned Serov to compose an opera on
the subject of Gogol's Malo-Russian tale " Christ-
mas Eve Revels." A celebrated poet, Polonsky,
had already prepared the libretto, when the
death of the Grand Duchess, followed by that
of Serov himself, put an end to the scheme.
Out of respect to the memory of this generous
patron, the Imperial Musical Society resolved
to carry out her wishes. A competition was

342 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

organised for the best setting of Polonsky's text
under the title of Vakoula the Smith, and
Tchaikovsky's score carried off both first and
second prizes. In after years he made con-
siderable alterations in this work and renamed
it Cherevichek (" The Little Shoes "). It is also
known in foreign editions as Le Caprice d'Oxane.
The libretto follows the general lines of the
Christmas Eve Revels, described in the chapter
dealing with Rimsky-Korsakov.

Early in the 'seventies Tchaikovsky came
under the ascendency of Balakirev, Stassov,
and other representatives of the ultra-national
and modern school. Cherevichek, like the Second
Symphony — which is alsoMalo-Russian in colour-
ing— and the symphonic poems " Romeo and
Juliet " (1870), "The Tempest" (1874), and
" Francesca di Rimini " (1876), may be regarded
as the outcome of this phase of influence. The
originality and captivating local colour, as well
as the really poetical lyrics with which the book
of this opera is interspersed, no doubt commended
it to Tchaikovsky's fancy. Polonsky's libretto is
a mere series of episodes, treated however with
such art that he has managed to preserve
the spirit of Gogol's text in the form of his
polished verses. In Cherevichek Tchaikovsky
makes a palpable effort to break away from
conventional Italian forms and to write more in
the style of Dargomijsky. But, as Stassov has

TCHAIKOVSKY 343

pointed out, this more modern and realistic
style is not so well suited to Tchaikovsky,
because he is not at his strongest in declamation
and recitative. Nor was he quite in sympathy
with Gogol's racy humour which bubbles up
under the veneer of Polonsky's elegant manner.
Tchaikovsky was not devoid of a certain sub-
dued and whimsical humour, but his laugh is
not the boisterous reaction from despair which
we find in so many Slav temperaments. Chere-
vichek fell as it were between two stools. The
young Russian party, who had partially inspired
it, considered it lacking in realism and modern
feeling ; while the public, who hoped for some-
thing lively, in the style of " Le Domino
Noir," found an attempt at serious national
opera the thing which, above all others, bored
them most.

The want of marked success in opera did not
discourage Tchaikovsky. Shortly after his dis-
appointment in Cherevichek he requested Stassov
to furnish him with a libretto based on Shake-
speare's " Othello." Stassov was slow to com-
ply with this demand, for he believed the
subject to be ill-suited to Tchaikovsky's genius.
At last, however, he yielded to pressure ; but
the composer's enthusiasm cooled of its own
accord, and he soon abandoned the idea.

During the winter of 1876-1877, he was
absorbed in the composition of the Fourth

344 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Symphony, which may partially account for
the fact that " Othello " ceased to interest him.
By May he had completed three movements of
the Symphony, when suddenly the tide of
operatic passion came surging back, sweeping
everything before it. Friend after friend was
consulted in the search for a suitable subject.
The celebrated singer Madame Lavrovsky
suggested Poushkin's popular novel in verse,
" Eugene Oniegin." ' The idea," says Tchai-
kovsky, " struck me as curious. Afterwards,
while eating a solitary meal in a restaurant, I
turned it over in my mind and it did not seem
bad. Reading the poem again, I was fascinated.
I spent a sleepless night, the result of which
was the mise en scene of a charming opera upon
Poushkin's poem/'

Some of my readers may remember the pro-
duction of Eugene Oniegin in this country,
conducted by Henry J. Wood, during Signor
Lago's opera season in the autumn of 1892. It
was revived in 1906 at Co vent Garden, but
without any regard for its national setting.
Mme. Destinn, with all her charm and talent, did
not seem at home in the part of Tatiana ; and
to those who had seen the opera given in Russia
the performance seemed wholly lacking in the
right, intimate spirit. It was interpreted better
by the Moody-Manners Opera Company, in the
course of the same year.

TCHAIKOVSKY 345

The subject was in many respects ideally
suited to Tchaikovsky — the national colour
suggested by a master hand, the delicate
realism which Poushkin was the first to introduce
into Russian poetry, the elegiac sentiment
which pervades the work, and, above all, its in-
tensely subjective character, were qualities which
appealed to the composer's temperament.

In May 1877 he wrote to his brother : "I
know the opera does not give great scope for
musical treatment, but a wealth of poetry, and
a deeply interesting tale, more than atone for
all its faults." And again, replying to some too-
captious critic, he flashes out in its defence :
" Let it lack scenic effect, let it be wanting in
action ! I am in love with Tatiana, I am under
the spell of Poushkin's verse, and I am drawn
to compose the music as it were by an irresistible
attract! on. " This was the true mood of in-
spiration— the only mood for success.

We must judge the opera Eugene Oniegin not
so much as Tchaikovsky's greatest intellectual,
or even emotional, effort, but as the outcome of
a passionate, single-hearted impulse. Conse-
quently the sense of joy in creation, of perfect
reconciliation with his subject, is conveyed in
every bar of the music. As a work of art,
Eugene Oniegin defies criticism, as do some
charming but illusive personalities. It would
be a waste of time to pick out its weaknesses,

346 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

which are many, and its absurdities, which are
not a few. It answers to no particular standard
of dramatic truth or serious purpose. It is too
human, too lovable, to fulfil any lofty intention.
One might liken it to the embodiment of some
captivating, wayward, female spirit which sub-
jugates all emotional natures, against their
reason, if not against their will. The story is as
obsolete as a last year's fashion-plate. The
hero is the demon-hero of the early romantic
reaction— " a Muscovite masquerading in the
cloak of Childe Harold/1 His friend Lensky
is an equally romantic being ; more blighted
than demoniac, and overshadowed by that
gentle and fatalistic melancholy which endeared
him still more to the heart of Tchaikovsky.
The heroine is a survival of an even earlier
type. Tatiana, with her young-lady-like sensi-
bilities, her superstitions, her girlish gush,
corrected by her primness of propriety, might
have stepped out of one of Richardson's novels.
She is a Russian Pamela, a belated example of
the decorous female, rudely shaken by the
French Revolution, and doomed to final anni-
hilation in the pages of Georges Sand. But in
Russia, where the emancipation of women was
of later date, this virtuous and victimised
personage lingered on into the nineteenth century,
and served as a foil to the Byronic and misan-
thropical heroes of Poushkin and Lermontov.

TCHAIKOVSKY 347

The music of Eugene Oniegin is the child of
Tchaikovsky's fancy, born of his passing love
for the image of Tatiana, and partaking of
her nature — never rising to great heights of
passion, nor touching depths of tragic despair,
tinged throughout by those moods of romantic
melancholy and exquisitely tender sentiment
which the composer and his heroine share in
common.

The opera was first performed by the students
of the Moscow Conservatoire in March, f&jcfo
Perhaps the circumstances were not altogether
favourable to its success ; for although the
composer's friends were unanimous in their
praise, the public did not at first show extra-
ordinary enthusiasm. Apart from the fact
that the subject probably struck them as
daringly unconventional and lacking in sen-
sational developments, a certain section of
purists were shocked at Poushkin's chef-d' ceuvre
being mutilated for the purposes of a libretto,
and resented the appearance of the almost
canonized figure of Tatiana upon the stage.
Gradually, however, Eugene Oniegin acquired
a complete sway over the public taste and its
serious rivals became few in number. There
are signs, however, that its popularity is on the
wane.

From childhood Tchaikovsky had cherished
a romantic devotion for the personality of Joan

348 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

of Arc, about whom he had written a poem at
the age of seven. After the completion of
Eugene Oniegin, looking round for a fresh
operatic subject, his imagination reverted to the
heroine of his boyhood. During a visit to
Florence, in December, 1878, Tchaikovsky first
approached this idea with something like awe
and agitation. " My difficulty," he wrote,
" does not lie in any lack of inspiration, but
rather in its overwhelming force. The idea has
taken furious possession of me. For three
whole days I have been tormented by the
thought that while the material is so vast,
human strength and time amount to so little.
I want to complete the whole work in an hour,
as sometimes happens to one in a dream."
From Florence, Tchaikovsky went to Paris for a
few days, and by the end of December settled
at Clarens, on the Lake of Geneva, to compose
his opera in these peaceful surroundings. To
his friend and benefactress, Nadejda von Meek,
he wrote expressing his satisfaction with his
music, but complaining of his difficulty in
constructing the libretto. This task he had
undertaken himself, using Joukovsky's trans-
lation of Schiller's poem as his basis. It is a
pity he did not adhere more closely to the
original work, instead of substituting for Schil-
ler's ending the gloomy and ineffective last
scene, of his own construction, in which Joan is

TCHAIKOVSKY 349

actually represented at the stake surrounded
by the leaping flames.

Tchaikovsky worked at The Maid of Orleans
with extraordinary rapidity. He was en-
amoured of his subject and convinced of ul-
timate success. From Clarens he sent a droll
letter to his friend and publisher Jurgenson, in
Moscow, which refers to his triple identity as
critic, composer, and writer of song- words. It
is characteristic of the man in his lighter
moods :

" There are three celebrities in the world
with whom you are well acquainted : the rather
poor rhymer ' N. N. ' ; ' B. L., 'formerly musical
cricit of the " Viedomosti," and the composer
and ex-professor Mr. Tchaikovsky. A few hours
ago Mr. T. invited the other two gentlemen to
the piano and played them the whole of the
second act of The Maid of Orleans. Mr.
Tchaikovsky is very intimate with these gentle-
men, consequently he had no difficulty in
conquering his nervousness and played them his
new work with spirit and fire. You should
have witnessed their delight. . . . Finally the
composer, who had long been striving to preserve
his modesty intact, went completely off his
head, and all three rushed on to the balcony
like madmen to soothe their excited nerves in
the fresh air."

The Maid of Orleans won little more than a

350 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

succes d'estime. There is much that is effective
in this opera, but at the same time it displays
those weaknesses which are most characteristic
of Tchaikovsky's unsettled convictions in the
matter of style. The transition from an opera
so Russian in colouring and so lyrical in senti-
ment as Eugene Oniegin to one so universal and
heroic in character as The Maid of Orleans,
seems to have presented difficulties. Just as
the national significance of The Oprichnik
suffered from moments of purely Italian in-
fluence, so The Maid of Orleans contains
incongruous lapses into the Russian style.
What have the minstrels at the court of Charles
VI. in common with a folk-song of Malo-
Russian origin ? Or why is the song of Agnes
Sorel so reminiscent of the land of the steppes
and birch forests ? The gem of the opera is
undoubtedly Joan's farewell to the scenes of
her childhood, which is full of touching, idyllic
sentiment.

In complete contrast to the fervid enthusiasm
which carried him through the creation of The
Maid of Orleans was the spirit in which Tchai-
kovsky started upon his next opera. One of
his earliest references to Mazeppa occurs in a
letter to Nadejda von Meek, written in the
spring of 1882. " A year ago," he says,
" Davidov (the 'cellist) sent me the libretto of
Mazeppa, adapted by Bourenin from Poushkin's

TCHAIKOVSKY 351

poem ' Poltava/ I tried to set one or two
scenes to music, but made no progress. Then
one fine day I read the libretto again and also
Poushkin's poem. I was stirred by some of the
verses, and began to compose the scene between
Maria and Mazeppa. Although I have not
experienced the profound creative joy I felt
while working at Eugene Oniegin, I go on with
the opera because I have made a start and in its
way it is a success/'

Not one of Tchaikovsky's operas was born to
a more splendid destiny. In August, 1883, a
special meeting was held by the directors of
the Grand Opera in St. Petersburg to discuss
the simultaneous production of the opera in
both capitals. Tchaikovsky was invited to be
present, and was so astonished at the lavishness
of the proposed expenditure that he felt con-
vinced the Emperor himself had expressed a
wish that no expense should be spared in
mounting Mazeppa. It is certain the royal
family took a great interest in this opera, which
deals with so stirring a page in Russian history.
The Mazeppa of Poushkin's masterpiece does
not resemble the imaginary hero of Byron's
romantic poem. He is dramatically, but realis-
tically, depicted as the wily and ambitious
soldier of fortune ; a brave leader, at times an
impassioned lover, and an inexorable foe. Tchai-
kovsky has not given a very powerful musical

352 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

presentment of this daring and passionate
Cossack, who defied even Peter the Great. But
the characterisation of the heroine's father
Kochubey, the tool and victim of Mazeppa's
ambition, is altogether admirable. The mono-
logue in the fortress of Bielotserkov, where
Kochubey is kept a prisoner after Mazeppa has
treacherously laid upon him the blame of his
own conspiracy, is one of Tchaikovsky's finest
pieces of declamation. Most of his critics are
agreed that this number, with Tatiana's famous
Letter Scene in the second act of Eugene Oniegin,
are the gems of his operatic works, and display
his powers of psychological analysis at their
highest.

The character of Maria, the unfortunate
heroine of this opera, is also finely conceived.
Tchaikovsky is almost always stronger in the
delineation of female than of male characters.
" In this respect," says Cheshikin, in his
volume on Russian Opera, "he is the Tour-
geniev of music." Maria has been separated
from her first love by the passion with which
the fascinating Hetman of Cossacks succeeds in
inspiring her. She only awakens from her
infatuation when she discovers all his cruelty
and treachery towards her father. After the
execution of the latter, and the confiscation of
his property, the unhappy girl becomes crazed.
She wanders — a kind of Russian Ophelia — back

TCHAIKOVSKY 353

to the old homestead, and arrives just in time to
witness an encounter between Mazeppa and her
first lover, Andrew. Mazeppa wounds Andrew
fatally, and, having now attained his selfish
ends, abandons the poor mad girl to her fate.
Then follows the most pathetic scene in the
opera. Maria does not completely recognise her
old lover, nor does she realise that he is dying.
Taking the young Cossack in her arms, she
speaks to him as to a child, and unconsciously
lulls him into the sleep of death with a graceful,
innocent slumber song. This melody, so remote
from the tragedy of the situation, produces an
effect more poignant than any dirge. Mazeppa,
partly because of the unrelieved gloom of the
subject, has never enjoyed the popularity of
Eugene Oniegin. Yet it holds its place in the
repertory of Russian opera, and deservedly, since
it contains some of Tchaikovsky's finest in-
spirations.

Charodeika (" The Enchantress ") followed
Mazeppa in 1887, and was a further step towards
purely dramatic and national opera. Tchaikov-
sky himself thought highly of this work, and
declared he was attracte i to it by a deep-rooted
desire to illustrate in music the saying of
Goethe : " das Ewigweioliche zieht uns hinan,"
and to demonstrate the fatal witchery of
woman's beauty, as Verdi had done in "La
Traviata " and Bizet in " Carmen." The

AA

354 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Enchantress was first performed at the Maryinsky
Theatre, St. Petersburg, in October 1887.
Tchaikovsky himself conducted the first per-
formances, and, having hoped for a success,
was deeply mortified when, on the fourth
performance, he mounted to the conductor's
desk without a sign of applause. For the first
time the composer complained bitterly of the
attitude of the press, to whom he attributed this
failure. As a matter of fact, the criticisms upon
Charodeika were less hostile than on some
previous occasions ; but perhaps for this reason
they were" none the less damning. It had
become something like a pose to misunderstand
any effort on Tchaikovsky's part to develop the
purely dramatic side of his musical gifts. He
was certainly very strongly attracted to lyric
opera ; and it was probably as much natural
inclination as deference to critical opinion which
led him back to this form in The Queen of
Spades (" Pique-Dame ").

The libretto of this opera, one of the best ever
set by the composer, was originally prepared by
Modeste Tchaikovsky for a musician who
afterwards declined to make use of it. In 1889
the Director of the Opera suggested that the
subject would suit Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky.
The opera was commissioned, and all arrange-
ments made for its production before a note of
it was written. The actual composition was

TCHAIKOVSKY 355

completed in six weeks, during a visit to
Florence.

The story of The Queen of Spades is borrowed
from a celebrated prose-tale of the same name,
by the poet Poushkin. The hero is of the
romantic type, like Manfred, Rene, Werther,
or Lensky in Eugene Oniegin — a type which
always appealed to Tchaikovsky, whose cast of
mind, with the exception of one or two peculiarly
Russian qualities, seems far more in harmony
with the romantic first than with the realistic
second half of , the nineteenth century.

Herman, a young lieutenant of hussars, a
passionate gambler, falls in love with Lisa,
whom he has only met walking in the Summer
Garden in St. Petersburg. He discovers that
she is the grand-daughter of an old Countess,
once well known as " the belle of St. Peters-
burg," but celebrated in her old age as the most
assiduous and fortunate of card-players. On
account of her uncanny appearance and reputa-
tion she goes by the name of " The Queen of
Spades/' These two women exercise a kind of
occult influence over the impressionable Herman.
With Lisa he forgets the gambler's passion in
the sincerity of his love ; with the old Countess
he finds himself a prey to the most sinister appre-
hensions ancj impulses. Rumour has it that
the Countess possesses the secret of three cards,
the combination of which is accountable for her

356 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

extraordinary luck at the gaming-table. Her-
man, who is needy, and knows that without
money he can never hope to win Lisa, deter-
mines at any cost to discover the Countess's
secret. Lisa has just become engaged to the
wealthy Prince Yeletsky, but she loves Her-
man. Under pretext of an assignation with
Lisa, he manages to conceal himself in the old
lady's bedroom at night. When he suddenly
appears, intending to make her divulge her
secret, he gives her such a shock that she dies
of fright without telling him the names of the
cards. Herman goes half-mad with remorse,
and is perpetually haunted by the apparition
of the Countess. The apparition now shows him
the three fatal cards.

The night after her funeral he goes to the
gaming-house and plays against his rival Yelet-
sky. Twice he wins on the cards shown him by
the Countess's ghost. On the third card he
stakes all he possesses, and turns up — not the
expected ace, but the Queen of Spades. At that
moment he sees a vision of the Countess, who
smiles triumphantly and vanishes. Herman in
despair puts an end to his life.

The subject, although somewhat melodram-
atic, offers plenty of incident and its thrill is
enhanced by the introduction of the super-
natural element. The work entirely engrossed
Tchaikovsky. " I composed this opera with

TCHAIKOVSKY 357

extraordinary joy and fervour," he wrote to the
Grand Duke Const antine, " and experienced so
vividly in myself all that happens in the tale,
that at one time I was actually afraid of the
spectre of the Queen of Spades. I can only
hope that all my creative fervour, my agitation
and my enthusiasm will find an echo in the
hearts of my audience/' In this he was not dis-
appointed. The Queen of Spades, first performed
in St. Petersburg in December, 1890, soon took
a stronghold on the public, and now vies in popu-
larity with Eugene Oniegin. It is strange that
this opera has never found its way to the English
stage. Less distinctively national than Eugene
Oniegin, its psychological problem is stronger, its
dramatic appeal more direct ; consequently it
would have a greater chance of success.

lolanthe, a lyric opera in one act, was Tchai-
kovsky's last production for the stage. It was
first given in St. Petersburg in December, 1893,
shortly after the composer's death. " In lolan-
the" says Cheshikin, " Tchaikovsky has added
one more tender and inspired creation to his
gallery of female portraits ... a figure remind-
ing us at once of Desdemona and Ophelia." The
music of lolanthe is not strong, but it is pervaded
by an atmosphere of tender and inconsolable
sadness ; by something which seems a faint and
weak echo of the profoundly emotional note
sounded in the " Pathetic " Symphony.

358 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

We may sum up Tchaikovsky's operatic
development as follows : Beginning with con-
ventional Italian forms in The Oprichnik he
passed in Cherevichek to more modern methods,
to the use of melodic recitative and ariosos ;
while Eugene Oniegin shows a combination of
both these styles. This first operatic period is
purely lyrical. Afterwards, in The Maid of
Orleans, Mazeppa, and Charodeika, he passed
through a second period of dramatic tendency.
With Pique-Dame he reaches perhaps the height
of his operatic development ; but this work is
the solitary example of a third period which we
may characterise as lyrico-dramatic. In lolan-
the he shows a tendency to return to simple
lyrical forms.

From the outset of his career he was equally
attracted to the dramatic and symphonic ele-
ments in music. Of the two, opera had perhaps
the greater attraction for him. The very
intensity of its fascination seems to have stood
in the way of his complete success. Once bitten
by an operatic idea, he went blindly and un-
critically forward, believing in his subject,
in the quality of his work, and in its ultimate
triumph, with that kind of undiscerning op-
timism to which the normally pessimistic some-
times fall unaccountable victims. The history
of his operas repeats itself : a passion for some
particular subject, feverish haste to embody

TCHAIKOVSKY 359

his ideas ; certainty of success ; then dis-
enchantment, self-criticism, and the hankering
to remake and remodel which pursued him
through life.

Only a few of Tchaikovsky's operas seem able
to stand the test of time. Eugene Oniegin and
The Queen of Spades achieved popular success,
and The Oprichnik and Mazeppa have kept
their places in the repertory of the opera
houses in St. Petersburg and in the provinces ;
but the rest must be reckoned more or less
as failures. Considering Tchaikovsky's reputa-
tion, and the fact that his operas were never
allowed to languish in obscurity, but were all
brought out under the most favourable circum-
stances, there must be some reason for this
hike- warm attitude on the part of the public, of
which he himself was often painfully aware. The
choice of subjects may have had something to
do with this ; for the books of The Oprichnik
and Mazeppa, though dramatic, are exceedingly
lugubrious. But Polonsky's charming text to
Cherevichek should at least have pleased a
Russian audience.

I find another reason for the comparative
failure of so many of Tchaikovsky's operas.
It was not so much that the subjects in them-
selves were poor, as that they did not always
suit the temperament of the composer ; and
he rarely took this fact sufficiently into

360 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

consideration. Tchaikovsky's outlook was essen-
tially subjective, individual, particular. He
himself knew very well what was requisite for
the creation of a great and effective opera :
" breadth, simplicity, and an eye to decorative
effect/' as he says in a letter to Nadejda von
Meek. But it was exactly in these qualities,
which would have enabled him to treat such
subjects as The Oprichnik, The Maid of Orleans,
and Mazeppa, with greater power and freedom,
that Tchaikovsky was lacking. In all these
operas there are beautiful moments ; but they
are almost invariably the moments in which
individual emotion is worked up to intensely
subjective expression, or phases of elegiac
sentiment in which his own temperament could
have full play.

Tchaikovsky had great difficulty in escaping
from his intensely emotional personality, and in
viewing life through any eyes but his own. He
reminds us of one of those actors who, with all
their power of touching our hearts, never
thoroughly conceal themselves under the part
they are acting. Opera, above all, cannot be
" a one-man piece/' For its successful realis-
ation it demands breadth of conception, variety
of sentiment and sympathy, powers of subtle
adaptability to all kinds of situations and
emotions other than our own. In short, opera
is the one form of musical art in which the

TCHAIKOVSKY 361

objective outlook is indispensable. Whereas
in lyric poetry self-revelation is a virtue ; in the
drama self-restraint and breadth of view are
absolute conditions of greatness and success.
We find the man reflected in Shakespeare's
sonnets, but humanity in his plays. Tchaikov-
sky's nature was undoubtedly too emotional
and self-centred for dramatic uses. To say
this, is not to deny his genius ; it is merely an
attempt to show its qualities and its limitations.
Tchaikovsky had genius, as Shelley, as Byron,
as Heine, as Lermontov had genius ; not as
Shakespeare, as Goethe, as Wagner had it. As
Byron could never have conceived " Julius
Caesar " or " Twelfth Night," so Tchaikovsky
could never have composed such an opera as
" Die Meistersinger." Of Tchaikovsky's operas,
the examples which seem destined to live
longest are those into which he was able, by
the nature of their literary contents, to infuse
most of his exclusive temperament and lyrical
inspiration.

CHAPTER XIV

CONCLUSION

ALTHOUGH I have now passed in review
the leading representatives of Russian
opera, my work would be incomplete if
I omitted to mention some of the many talented
composers — the minor poets of music — who have
contributed works, often of great value and origin-
ality, to the repertories of the Imperial Theatres
and private opera companies in Russia. To
make a just and judicious selection is no easy
task, for there is an immense increase in the
number of composers as compared to five-
and-twenty years ago, and the general level
of technical culture has steadily risen with
the multiplication of provincial opera houses,
schools, and orchestras. If we cannot now
discern such a galaxy of native geniuses as
Russia possessed in the second half of the
nineteenth century, we observe at least a very
widespread and lively activity in the musical
life of the present day. The tendency to work
in schools or groups seems to be dying out, and
the art of the younger musicians shows a

CONCLUSION 363

diffusion of influences, and a variety of ex-
pression, which make the classification of con-
temporary composers a matter of considerable
difficulty.

In point of seniority, Edward Franzovich
Napravnik has probably the first claim on our
attention. Born August 12/26, 1839, at Beisht,
near Koniggratz, in Bohemia, he came to St.
Petersburg in 1861 as director of Prince
Youssipov's private orchestra. In 1863 he was
appointed organist to the Imperial Theatres,
and assistant to Liadov, who was then first
conductor at the opera. In consequence of the
latter's serious illness in 1869, Napravnik was
appointed his successor and has held this
important post for over fifty years. He came
into power at a time when native opera was
sadly neglected, and it is to his credit that he
continued his predecessor's work of reparation
with tact and zeal. The repertory of the
Maryinsky Theatre, the home of Russian Opera
in St. Petersburg, has been largely compiled on
his advice, and although some national operas
may have been unduly ignored, Napravnik has
effected a steady improvement on the past.
Memorable performances of Glinka's A Life
for the Tsar ; of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Oniegin,
The Oprichnik, and The Queen of Spades ; and
of Rimsky-Korsakov's operas, both of his early
and late period, have distinguished his reign

364 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

as a conductor. Under his command the
orchestra of the Imperial Opera has come to be
regarded as one of the finest and best disciplined
in the world. He has also worked indefatigably
to raise the social and cultural condition of the
musicians.

As a composer Napravnik is not strikingly
original. His music has the faults and the
qualities generally found side by side in the
creative works of men who follow the con-
ductor's vocation. His operas, as might be
expected from so experienced a musician, are
solidly constructed, written with due con-
sideration for the powers of the soloists, and
effective as regards the use of choral masses.
On the other hand, they contain much that is
purely imitative, and flashes of the highest
musical inspiration come at long intervals.
His first opera, The Citizens of Nijny-Novgorod,1
was produced at the Maryinsky Theatre in
1868. The libretto by N. Kalashnikov deals
with an episode from the same stirring period in
Russian history as that of A Life for the Tsar,
when Minin, the heroic butcher of Nijny-
Novgorod, gathered together his fellow towns-
folk and marched with the Boyard Pojarsky
to the defence of Moscow. The national senti-

1 Citizens of the Lower-town would be a more literal
translation of the title, but would convey nothing to
foreigners.

CONCLUSION 365

ment as expressed in Napravnik's music seems
cold and conventional as compared with that of
Glinka or Moussorgsky. The choruses are often
interesting, especially one in the church style,
sung at the wedding of Kouratov and Olga-
the hero and heroine of the opera — which,
Cheshikin says, is based on a theme borrowed
from Bortniansky, and very finely handled.
On the whole, the work has suffered, because the
nature of its subject brought it into competition
with Glinka's great patriotic opera. Tchaikov-
sky thought highly of it, and considered that
it held the attention of the audience from first
to last by reason of Napravnik's masterly sense
of climax ; while he pronounced the orchestra-
tion to be brilliant, but never overpowering.

A more mature work is Harold, an opera in
five acts, or nine scenes, first performed in St.
Petersburg in November, 1886, with every
possible advantage in the way of scenery and
costumes. Vassilievich, Melnikov and Strav-
insky took the leading male parts ; while
Pavlovskaya and Slavina created the two chief
female characters. The success of the opera
was immediate, the audience demanding the
repetition of several numbers ; but it must
pave been to some extent a succes d'estime, for
ihe work, which is declamatory rather than
yrical, contains a good deal of monotonous
fecitative and — because it is more modern and

366 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Wagnerian in form — the fine choral effects
which lent interest to Napravnik's first opera
are lacking here. In 1888 Harold was given in
Moscow and Prague. Napravnik's third oper-
atic work, Doubrovsky, was produced at the
Maryinsky Theatre in 1895, and soon travelled
to Moscow, and the round of the provincial opera
houses, finding its way to Prague in 1896, and
to Leipzig in 1897. The libretto by Modeste
Tchaikovsky, brother of the composer, based
upon Poushkin's ultra-romantic Byronic tale
" Doubrovsky " is not very inspiring. Such
dramatic and emotional qualities as the story
contains have been ruthlessly deleted in this
colourless adaptation for operatic purposes.
The musical material matches the book in its
facile and reminiscent quality ; but this ex-
perienced conductor writes gratefully and skil-
fully for the singers, the orchestra being carefully
subordinated to vocal effects. Interpolated in
the opera, by way of a solo for Doubrovsky, is a
setting of Coppee's charming words " Ne jamais
la voir, ni 1'entendre."

Napravnik's fourth opera, Francesco, da
Rimini, is composed to a libretto by E. Pono-
mariev founded on Stephen Phillip's " Francesca
and Paolo." It was first presented to the public
in November 1902, the leading parts being
created by that gifted pair, Nicholas and Medea
Figner. Less popular than Harold or Doubrov-

CONCLUSION 367

sky, the musical value of Francesco, is incon-
testably greater. Although the composer can-
not altogether free himself from the influence of
Wagner's " Tristan und Isolde," the subject has
inspired him to write some very expressive and
touching music, especially in the scene where the
unhappy lovers, reading of Lancelot, seal their
own doom with one supreme and guilty kiss ;
and in the love duet in the third act. Besides
these operas, Napravnik composed a Prologue
and six choral numbers for Count Alexis
Tolstoy's dramatic poem " Don Juan."

Although not of influential importance, the
name of Paul Ivanovich Blaramberg cannot be
omitted from a history of Russian opera. The
son of a distinguished General of French
extraction, he was born in Orenburg, September
14/26, 1841. His first impulsion towards a
musical career originated in his acquaintance
with Balakirev's circle ; but his relations with
the nationalist school must have been fleeting,
as some time during the 'sixties he went abroad
for a long stay, and on his return to Russia, in
1870, he settled in Moscow, where he divided his
time between writing for the Moscow Viedomosty
and teaching theory in the Philharmonic School.
,Later on he went to live on an estate belonging
to him in the Crimea.

Blaramberg has written five operas in all.
fikomorokhi (The Mummers), a comic opera in

368 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

three acts, based on one of Ostrovsky's comedies,
was composed in 1881, and was partly produced
by the pupils of the opera class of the Moscow
Philharmonic Society, in the Little Theatre, in
1887. The opera is a curious blend, some
portions of it being in the declamatory manner
of Dargomijsky, without his expressive realism,
and others in the conventional style of opera
buff a, degenerating at times into mere farcical
patter-singing. It contains, however, a few
successful numbers in the folk-style, especially
the love-duet in 5-4 measure, and shows the
influence of the national school. The music of
The Roussalka-Maiden is more cohesive, and
written with a clearer sense of form. There are
fresh and pleasant pages in this work, in which
local colour is used with unaffected simplicity.
Blaramberg's third opera, Mary of Burgundy,
is a more pretentious work, obviously inspired
by Meyerbeer. The subject is borrowed from
Victor Hugo's drama " Marie Tudor/* It was
produced at the Imperial Opera House, Moscow,
in 1888. In his fourth opera, Blaramberg has
not been fortunate in his choice of a libretto,
which is based upon one of Ostrovsky's " Dram-
atic Chronicles," Toushino — rather a dull his-
torical play dating from 1606, the period of
Boris Godounov's regency. Strong, direct, ele-
mentary treatment, such as it might have
received at the hands of Moussorgsky, could

CONCLUSION 369

alone have invested the subject with dramatic
interest ; whereas Blaramberg has clothed it in
music of rather conventional and insipid char-
acter. In common with Skomorokhi, however,
the work contains some admirable touches of
national colour, the composer imitating the
style of the folk-singing with considerable
success. Blaramberg's fifth operatic work, en-
titled The Wave (Volna), is described as "an
Idyll in two acts," the subject borrowed from
Byron's^ " Don Juan " : namely, the episode
of Haidee's love for Don Juan, who is cast at her
feet " half-senseless from the sea." Of this
work Cheshikin says : "It consists of a series
of duets and trios, with a set of Eastern dances
and a ballad for bass, thrown in for variety's
sake, but having no real connection with the
plot. The music is reminiscent of Gounod ; the
melody is of the popular order, but not altogether
commonplace, and embellished by Oriental
fiorituri." An atmosphere of Eastern languor
pervades the whole opera, which may be
attributed to the composer's long sojourn in
the Crimea.

A name more distinguished in the annals of
Russian music is that of Anton Stepanovich
Arensky, born in Old Novgorod, in 1861. The
son of a medical man, he received his musical
education at the St. Petersburg Conservatoire,
where he studied under Rimsky-Korsakov. On

BB

370 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

leaving this institution, in 1882, he was appointed
to a professorship at the Moscow Conservatoire.
He was also a member of the Council of the
Synodal School of Church Music at Moscow, and
conducted the concerts of the Russian choral
society for a period of over seven years. In
1894, Balakirev recommended Arensky for the
Directorship of the Imperial Chapel at St.
Petersburg, a post which he held until 1901.
Arensky's first opera A Dream on the Volga
was produced at the Imperial Opera House,
Moscow, in December 1892. The work was not
given in St. Petersburg until 1903, when it
was performed at the People's Palace. The
subject is identical with Ostrovsky's comedy
' The Voyevode," which the dramatist himself
arranged for Tchaikovsky's use in 1867. Tchai-
kovsky, as we have seen, destroyed the greater
part of the opera which he wrote to this libretto,
but the manuscript of the book remained, and in
1882, at Arensky's request, he handed it over to
him " with his benediction." Arensky ap-
proached the subject in a different spirit to
Tchaikovsky, giving to his music greater dram-
atic force and veracity, and making more of
the Russian element contained in the play.
The scene entitled " The Voyevode's Dream,"
in the fourth act, in which the startled, night-
mare cries of the guilty old Voyevode are heard
in strange contrast to the lullaby sung by the

CONCLUSION 371

old woman as she rocks the child in the cradle,
is highly effective. In his use of the folk-tunes
Arensky follows Melgounov's system of the
" natural minor," and his handling of national
themes is always appropriate and interesting.
His harmonisation and elaboration by means of
variations of the familiar tune " Down by Mother
Volga " is an excellent example of his skill in
this respect. Arensky 's melody has not the
sweeping lines and sustained power of Tchai-
kovsky's, but his tendency is lyrical and
romantic rather than realistic and declamatory,
and his use of arioso is marked by breadth and
clearness of outline.

Arensky's second opera Raphael was composed
for the first Congress of Russian Artists held in
Moscow ; the occasion probably gives us the
clue to his choice of subject. The first pro-
duction of the opera took place in April 1894,
and in the autumn of the following year it was
given at the Maryinsky Theatre, St. Petersburg.
The part of Raphael, which is written for a female
voice, was sung by Slavina, La Fornarina being
represented by Mravina. The work consists of
a series of small delicately wrought musical
cameos. By its tenderness and sweet romantic
fancy the music often recalls Tchaikovsky's
Eugene Oniegin ; but it is more closely united
with the text, and greater attention is paid to
the natural accentuation of the words. Between

372 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Raphael and his last opera, Nal and Damyanti,
Arensky wrote music to Poushkin's poem
" The Fountain of Bakhchisarai," for the com-
memoration of the centenary of the poet's birth.
The analysis of this work does not come within
the scope of my subject, but I mention it because
it was a great advance on any of his previous
vocal works and led up to the increased
maturity shown in Nal and Damyanti.

The libretto of this opera was prepared by
Modest e Tchaikovsky from Joukovsky's free
translation of Riickert's poem. Nal and Dam-
yanti was first performed at the Moscow Opera
House in January 1904. Some external in-
fluences are still apparent in the work, but they
now proceed from Wagner rather than from
Tchaikovsky. The orchestral introduction, an
excellent piece of work, is occasionally heard in
the concert room ; it depicts the strife between
the spirits of light and darkness which forms
the basis of this Oriental poem. This opera is
the most suitable for stage performance of any
of Arensky's works ; the libretto is well written,
the plot holds our attention and the scenic
effects follow in swift succession. Here Aren-
sky has thrown off the tendency to miniature
painting which is more or less perceptible in his
earlier dramatic works, and has produced an
opera altogether on broader and stronger lines.
It is unfortunate, however, that he still shows a

CONCLUSION 373

lack of complete musical independence ; as
Cheshikin remarks : " from Tchaikovsky to
Wagner is rather an abrupt modulation ! "

Perhaps the nearest approach to a recognised
" school " now extant in Russia is to be found
in Moscow, where the influence of Tchaikovsky
lingers among a few of his direct disciples, such
as Rachmaninov, Grechyaninov, and Ippolitov-
Ivanov.

Sergius Vassilievich Rachmaninov (b. 1873),
so well known to us in England as a pianist and
composer of instrumental music, was a pupil of
the Moscow Conservatoire, where he studied
under Taneiev and Arensky. Dramatic music
does not seem to exercise much attraction for
this composer. His one-act opera Aleko, the
subject borrowed from Poushkin's poem " The
Gipsies," was originally written as a diploma
work for his final examination at the Con-
servatoire in 1872, and had the honour of being
produced at the Imperial Opera House, Moscow,
in the following season. Aleko was given in St.
Petersburg, at the Taurida Palace, during the
celebration of the Poushkin centenary in 1899,
when Shaliapin took part in the performance.
It is a blend of the declamatory and lyrical
styles, and the music, though not strikingly
original, runs a pleasing, sympathetic, and
somewhat uneventful course.

Alexander Tikhonovich Grechyaninov, born

374 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

October 13/25 1864, in Moscow, entered the
Conservatoire of his native city where he made
the pianoforte his chief study under the guidance
of Vassily Safonov. In 1893 he joined the St.
Petersburg Conservatoire in order to learn
composition from Rimsky-Korsakov. The fol-
lowing year a quartet by him won the prize
at the competition organised by the St. Peters-
burg Chamber Music Society. He wrote in-
cidental music to Ostrovsky's " Snow Maiden "
and to Count Alexis Tolstoy's historical dramas
" Tsar Feodor " and " Ivan the Terrible " before
attempting to compose the opera Dobrynia
Nikitich on the subject of one of the ancient
By liny or national legends. The introduction
and third act of this work was first given in
public in February 1903, at one of Count
Sheremetiev's popular concerts, and in the
following spring it was performed in its entirety
at the Imperial Opera House, with Shaliapin
in the title role. It is a picturesque, wholly
lyrical work. Kashkin describes the music as
agreeable and flowing, even in those scenes where
the nature of the subject demands a more
robust and vigorous musical treatment. Dob-
rynia Nikitich obviously owes much to Glinka's
Russian and Liudmilla and Borodin's Prince
Igor.

Another musician who is clearly influenced
by Tchaikovsky is Michael Ippolitov-Ivanov

iHAI.IAPIN IN BOITO'.S " MEFISTOFEI.E '

CONCLUSION 375

(b. 1859), a distinguished pupil of Rimsky-
Korsakov at the St. Petersburg Conservatoire.
He was afterwards appointed Director of the
School of Music, and of the Opera, at Tiflis in the
Caucasus, where his first opera Ruth was
produced in 1887. In 1893 he accepted a
professorship at the Moscow Conservatoire, and
became conductor of the Private Opera Com-
pany. Ippolitov-Ivanov is a great connoisseur
of the music of the Caucasian races, and also of
the old Hebrew melodies. He makes good use
of the latter in Ruth, a graceful, idyllic opera,
the libretto of which does not keep very
strictly to Biblical traditions. In 1900 Ippolitov-
Ivanov's second opera Assy a — the libretto
borrowed from Tourgeniev's tale which bears
the same title — was produced in Moscow by the
Private Opera Company. The tender melan-
choly sentiment of the music reflects the
influence of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Oniegin ; but
by way of contrast there are some lively scenes
from German student life.

With the foregoing composers we may link
the name of Vassily Sergeivich Kalinnikov
(1866-1900), who is known in this country by his
Symphonies in G minor and A major. He
composed incidental music to Count Alexis
Tolstoy's play " Tsar Boris " (Little Theatre,
Moscow, 1897) and the Prologue to an opera
entitled The Year 1812, which was never finished

376 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

in consequence of the musician's failing health
and untimely death. Kalinnikov hardly had
time to outgrow his early phase of Tchaikovsky
worship.

Another Muscovite composer of widely
different temperament to Ippolitov-Ivanov, or
Kalinnikov, is Sergius Ivanovich Taneiev,1 born
November .13/25, 1856, in the Government of
Vladimir. He studied under Nicholas Rubin-
stein and Tchaikovsky at the Moscow Con-
servatoire and made his debut as a pianist at one
of the concerts of the I. R. M. S. in 1875. He
remained Tchaikovsky's friend long after he had
ceased to be his pupil, and among the many
letters they exchanged in after years there is
one published in Tchaikovsky's " Life and
Letters," dated January 14/26, 1891, which
appears to be a reply to Taneiev's question :
" How should Opera be written ? " At this
time Taneiev was engaged upon his Orestes,
the only work of the kind he has ever composed.
The libretto, based upon the Aeschylean
tragedy, is the work of Benkstern and has
considerable literary merit. Orestes, although
described by Taneiev as a Trilogy, is, in fact,
an opera in three acts entitled respectively:
(i) Agamemnon, (2) Choephoroe, (3) Eumenides.

1 This composer must not be confused with his nephew
A. S. Taneiev, the composer of a rather Frenchified
opera entitled "Love's Revenge."

CONCLUSION 377

Neither in his choice of subject, nor in his
treatment of it, has Taneiev followed the
advice given him by Tchaikovsky in the letter
mentioned above. Perhaps it was not in his
nature to write opera " just as it came to him,"
or to show much emotional expansiveness.
Neither does he attempt to write music which is
archaic in style ; on the contrary, Orestes is
in many respects a purely Wagnerian opera.
Leitmotifs are used freely, though less system-
atically than in the later Wagnerian music-
dramas. The opera, though somewhat cold
and laboured, is not wanting in dignity, and is
obviously the work of a highly educated
musician. The representative themes, if they
are rather short-winded, are often very expres-
sive ; this is the case with the leitmotif of the
ordeal of Orestes, which stands out prominently
in the first part of the work, and also forms the
motive of the short introduction to the Trilogy.
Towards the close of last century the new
tendencies which are labelled respectively " im-
pressionism " " decadence," and " symbol-
ism," according to the point of view from which
they are being discussed, began to make them-
selves felt in Russian art, resulting in a partial
reaction from the vigorous realism of the
'sixties and 'seventies, and also from the
academic romanticism which was the prevalent
note of the cosmopolitan Russian school. What

378 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

Debussy had derived from his study of Mous^
sorgsky and other Russian composers, the Slavs
now began to take back with interest from the
members of the younger French school. The
flattering tribute of imitation hitherto offered
to Glinka, Tchaikovsky, and Wagner was now
to be transferred to Gabriel Faure, Debussy,
and Ravel. In two composers this new current
of thought is clearly observed.

Vladimir Ivanovich Rebikov (b. 1866) re-
ceived most of his musical education in
Berlin and Vienna. On his return to Russia
he settled for a time at Odessa, where his first
opera In the Storm was produced in 1894. A
few years later he organised a new branch of
the I. R. M. S. at Kishiniev, but in 1901 he
took up his abode permanently in Moscow.
Rebikov has expressed his own musical creed
in the following words : " Music is the language
of the emotions. Our emotions have neither
starting point, definite form, nor ending : when
we transmit them through music it should be in
conformity with this point of view/'1 Acting
upon this theory, Rebikov's music, though it
contains a good deal that is original, leaves an
impression of vagueness and formlessness on
the average mind ; not, of course, as compared
with the very latest examples of modernism,

1 Quoted in the article on this composer in the Russian
edition of Riemann's Musical Dictionary, 1904.

CONCLUSION 379

but in comparison with what immediately
precedes it in Russian music. In his early
opera In the Storm, based on Korolenko's legend
' The Forest is Murmuring " (Liess Shoumit),
the influence of Tchaikovsky is still apparent.
His second work, The Christmas Tree, was
produced at the Aquarium Theatre, Moscow, in
1903. Cheshikin says that the libretto is a
combination of one of Dostoievsky's tales with
Hans Andersen's " The Little Match-Girl " and
Hauptmann's " Hannele." The contrast between
the sad reality of life and the bright visions of
Christmastide lend themselves to scenic effects.
The music is interesting by reason of its extreme
modern tendencies. The opera contains several
orchestral numbers which seem to have escaped
the attention of enterprising conductors — a
Valse, a March of Gnomes, a Dance of Mum-
mers, and a Dance of Chinese Dolls.

The second composer to whom I referred as
showing signs of French impressionist influence
is Serge Vassilenko (b. 1872, Moscow). He
first came before the public in 1902 with a
Cantata, The Legend of the City of Kitezh. Like
Rachmaninov's Aleko, this was also a diploma
work. The following year it was given in
operatic form by the Private Opera Company in
Moscow. Some account of the beautiful mys-
tical legend of the city that was miraculously
saved from the Tatars by the fervent prayers of

380 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

its inhabitants has already been given in the
chapter dealing with Rimsky-Korsakov. It
remains to be said that Vassilenko's treatment
of the subject is in many ways strong and
original. He is remarkably successful in reviv-
ing the remote, fantastic, rather austere atmo-
sphere of Old Russia, and uses Slavonic and
Tatar melodies in effective contrast. The work,
which does not appear to have become a
repertory opera, is worth the study of those who
are interested in folk-music.

There is little satisfaction in presenting my
readers with a mere list of names, but space does
not permit me to do much more in the case of the
following composers :

G. A. Kazachenko (b. 1858), of Malo-Russian
origin, has written two operas : Prince Sereb-
ryany (1892) and Pan Sotnik (I902),1 which
have met with some success. A. N. Korest-
chenko, the composer of Belshazzar's Feast (1892),
The Angel of Death (Lermontov), and The Ice
Palace (1900). N. R. Kochetov, whose Terrible
Revenge (Gogol) was produced in St. Petersburg
in 1897 ; and Lissenko, sometimes called " the
Malo-Russian Glinka," the composer of a
whole series of operas that enjoy some popularity
in the southern provinces of Russia.

This list is by no means exhaustive, for the

1 Pan is the title of the Polish gentry, Sotnik, literally a
centurion, a military grade.

CONCLUSION 381

proportion of Russian composers who have
produced operatic works is a striking fact in
the artistic history of the country — a phenome-
non which can only be attributed to the encour-
agement held out to musicians by the great and
increasing number of theatres scattered over
the vast surface of the Empire.

As we have seen, all the leading represen-
tatives of Russian music, whether they belonged
to the nationalist movement or not, occupied
themselves with opera. There are, however,
two distinguished exceptions. Anatol Con-
st antinovich Liadov (b. 1855) an^ Alexander
Constantinovich Glazounov (b. 1865) were both
members, at any rate for a certain period of their
lives, of the circles of Balakirev and Belaiev,
but neither of them have shared the common
attraction to dramatic music. Glazounov, it is
true, has written some remarkably successful
ballets—" Raymonda " and " The Seasons "—
but shows no inclination to deal with the
problems of operatic style.

The " opera-ballet," which is not — what at the
present moment it is frequently being called — a
new form of operatic art, but merely the revival
of an old one,1 is engaging the attention of the
followers of Rimsky-Korsakov. At the same

1 For example, the Court ballets of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries were practically opera -ballets, since
they included songs, dances and spoken dialogue.

382 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

time it should be observed that the application
of this term to A Night in May and The Golden
Cock is not sanctioned by what the composer
himself has inscribed upon the title pages.

At the present time the musical world is eagerly
expecting the production of Igor Stravinsky's
first opera The Nightingale. This composer,
by his ballets The Bird of Fire, Petrouchka,
and The Sacrifice to Spring, has worked us
up through a steady crescendo of interest to a
climax of curiosity as to what he will produce
next. So far, we know him only as the com-
poser of highly original and often brilliant in-
strumental works. It is difficult to prophesy
what his treatment of the vocal element in
music may prove to be. The work is in three acts,
based upon Hans Andersen's story of the Emperor
of China and the Nightingale. The opera was
begun several years ago, and we are therefore pre-
pared to find in it some inequality of style ; but
the greater part of it, so we are told, bears the
stamp of Stravinsky's "advanced" manner, and the
fundamental independence and novelty of the
score of The Sacrifice to Spring leads us to
expect in The Nightingale a work of no ordinary
power.

Russia, from the earliest institution of her
opera houses, has always been well served as
regards foreign artists. All the great European
stars have been attracted there by the princely

CONCLUSION 383

terms offered for their services. Russian opera,
however, had to be contented for a long period
with second-rate singers. Gradually the na-
tural talent of the race was cultivated, and
native singers appeared upon the scene who were
equal in every respect to those imported from
abroad. The country has always been rich in
bass and baritone voices. One of the most
remarkable singers of the last century, O. A.
Petrov (1807-1878), was a bass-baritone of a
beautiful quality, with a compass extending
from B to G sharp. He made his debut at the
Imperial Opera, St. Petersburg, in 1830, as
Zoroaster in " The Magic Flute/' Stassov often
spoke to me of this great artist, the operatic
favourite of his young days. There were few
operatic stars, at least at that period, who did
not — so Stassov declared — make themselves
ridiculous at times. Petrov was the exception.
He was a great actor ; his facial play was varied
and expressive, without the least exaggeration ;
he was picturesque, forcible, graceful, and, above
all, absolutely free from conventional pose. His
interpretation of the parts of Ivan Sousanin in
A Life for the Tsar, the Miller in The Roussalka,
of Leporello in The Stone Guest, and, even in his
last days, of Varlaam in Boris Godounov, were
inimitable for their depth of feeling, historic
truth, intellectual grasp, and sincerity. Artistic-
ally speaking, Petrov begat Shaliapin.

384 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

To Petrov succeeded Melnikov, a self-taught
singer, who was particularly fine in the parts of
Russian, the Miller, and Boris Godounov.
Among true basses Karyakin possessed a phe-
nomenal voice, but not much culture. A critic
once aptly compared his notes for power, depth,
and roundness to a row of mighty oaken
barrels.

Cui, in his " Recollections of the Opera/'
speaks of the following artists, stars of the
Maryinsky Theatre, St. Petersburg, between
1872 and 1885 : Menshikova, who possessed a
powerful soprano voice of rare beauty ; Raab,
who was musically gifted ; Levitskaya, dis-
tinguished for her sympathetic qualities, and
Pavlovskaya, a remarkably intelligent and
" clever " artist. But his brightest memories of
this period centre around Platonova. Her
voice was not of exceptional beauty, but she
was so naturally gifted, and her impersonation
so expressive, that she never failed to make a
profound impression. " How she loved Russian
art," says Cui, " and with what devotion she
was prepared to serve it in comparison with
most of the favourite singers of the day ! None
of us native composers, old or young, could
have dispensed with her. The entire Russian
repertory rested on her, and she bore the burden
courageously and triumphantly." Her best parts
were Antonida in A Life for the Tsar, Natasha

CONCLUSION 385

in The Roussalka, Marina in Boris Godounov,
and Donna Anna in The Stone Guest.

Among contraltos, after Leonova's day, Lav-
rovskaya and Kroutikova were the most popu-
lar. The tenors Nikolsky, Orlov, and Vas-
siliev all had fine voices. Orlov was good as
Michael Toucha in The Maid of Pskov ; while
Vassiliev's best part was the King of Berendei
in Rimsky-Korsakov's Snow Maiden. Another
tenor, whose reputation however was chiefly
made abroad, was Andreiev.

Later on, during the 'eighties and 'nineties,
Kamenskaya, a fine soprano, was inimitable in
the part of Rogneda (Serov), and in Tchaikov-
sky's Maid of Orleans. Dolina, a rich and
resonant mezzo-soprano, excelled as Ratmir
in Glinka's Russian. Slavina, whose greatest
success was in Bizet's " Carmen," andMravina,
a high coloratura soprano, were both favourites
at this time. To this period also belong the
triumphs of the Figners — husband and wife.
Medea Figner was perhaps at her best as Carmen,
and her husband was an admirable Don Jose,
but it is as the creator of Lensky in Eugene
Oniegin, and of Herman in The Queen of Spades
that he will live in the affections of the Russian
public.

In Feodor Ivanovich Shaliapin, Russia pro-
bably possesses the greatest living operatic
artist. Born February 1/13, 1873, in the

cc

386 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

picturesque old city of Kazan, he is of peasant
descent. He had practically no education in
childhood, and as regards both his intellectual
and musical culture he is, to all intents and
purposes, an autodidact. For a time he is said
to have worked with a shoe-maker in the same
street where Maxim Gorky was toiling in the
baker's underground shop, so graphically de-
scribed in his tale " Twenty-six and One.'' For
a short period Shaliapin sang in the Arch-
bishop's choir, but at seventeen he joined a local
operetta company which was almost on the
verge of bankruptcy. When no pay was forth-
coming, he earned a precarious livelihood by
frequenting the railway station and doing the
work of an outporter. He was often perilously
near starvation. Later on, he went with a
travelling company of Malo-Russians to the
region of the Caspian and the Caucasus. On
this tour he sang — and danced, when occasion
demanded. In 1892 he found himself in Tiflis,
where his voice and talents attracted the
attention of a well-known singer Oussatov, who
gave him some lessons and got him engaged at
the opera in that town. He made his debut
at Tiflis in A Life for the Tsar. In 1894 he sang
in St. Petersburg, at the Summer Theatre in the
Aquarium, and also at the Panaevsky Theatre.
The following year he was engaged at the
Maryinsky Theatre, but the authorities seem

iHALIAPIN AS DON QUIXOTE

CONCLUSION 387

to have been blind to the fact that in Shaliapin
they had acquired a second Petrov. His ap-
pearances there were not very frequent. It was
not until 1896, when the lawyer-millionaire
Mamantov paid the fine which released him
from the service of the Imperial Opera House,
and invited him to join the Private Opera
Company at Moscow, that Shaliapin got his
great chance in life. He became at once the
idol of the Muscovites, and admirers journeyed
from St. Petersburg and the provinces to hear
him. When I visited St. Petersburg hi 1897,
I found Vladimir Stassov full of enthusiasm for
the genius of Shaliapin. Unluckily for me, the
season of the Private Opera Company had just
come to an end, but I learnt at secondhand to
know and appreciate Shaliapin in all his great
impersonations. By 1899 the Imperial Opera
of Moscow had engaged him at a salary of 60,000
roubles a year. His fame soon spread abroad
and he was in request at Monte Carlo, Buenos
Aires, and Milan ; in the last named city he
married, and installed himself in a house there
for a time. Visits to New York and Paris
followed early in this century, and finally,
through the enterprise of Sir Joseph Beecham,
London had an opportunity of hearing this great
artist during the season of 1913. Speaking to
me of his London experiences, Shaliapin was
evidently deeply moved by, and not a little

388 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

astonished at, the enthusiastic welcome accorded
to him and to his compatriots. He had, of course,
been told that we were a cold and phlegmatic
race, but he found in our midst such heart-felt
warmth and sincerity as he had never before
experienced outside Russia.

Shaliapin's romantic history has proved a
congenial soil for the growth of all manner of
sensational tales and legends around his life and
personality. They make amusing material for
newspaper and magazine articles ; but as I am
here concerned with history rather than with
fiction, I will forbear to repeat more than one
anecdote connected with his career. The inci-
dent was related to me by a famous Russian
musician. I will not, however, vouch for its
veracity, but only for its highly picturesque
and dramatic qualities. A few years ago the
chorus of the Imperial Opera House desired to
present a petition to the Emperor. It was
arranged that after one of the earlier scenes in
Boris Godounov the curtain should be rung up
again, and the chorus should be discovered
kneeling in an attitude of supplication, their
faces turned towards the Imperial box, while
their chosen representative should offer the
petition to the " exalted personage " who was
attending the opera that night. When the
curtain went up for the second time it disclosed
an unrehearsed effect. Shaliapin, who was not

CONCLUSION 389

aware of the presentation of the petition by the
chorus, had not left the stage in time. There,
among the crowd of humble petitioners, stood
Tsar Boris ; dignified, colossal, the very
personification of kingly authority, in his superb
robes of cloth of gold, with the crown of
Monomakh upon his head. For one thrilling,
sensational moment Tsar Boris stood face to
face with Tsar Nicholas II. ; then some swift
impulse, born of custom, of good taste, or of the
innate spirit of loyalty that lurks in every
Russian heart, brought the dramatic situation
to an end. Tsar Boris dropped on one knee,
mingling with the supplicating crowd, and
etiquette triumphed, to the inward mortification
of a contingent of hot-headed young revolution-
ists who had hoped to see him defy convention
to the last.

In Russia, where some kind of political
leitmotif is bound to accompany a great per-
sonality through life, however much he may
wish to disassociate himself from it, attempts
have been made to identify Shaliapin with the
extreme radical party. It is sufficient, and much
nearer the truth, to say that he is a patriot, with
all that the word implies of love for one's
country as it is, and hope for what its destinies
may yet be. Shaliapin could not be otherwise
than patriotic, seeing that he is Russian through
and through. When we are in his society the

390 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

two qualities which immediately rivet our
attention are his Herculean virility and his
Russian-ness. He is Russian in his sincerity
and candour, in his broad human sympathies,
and in a certain child-like simplicity which
is particularly engaging in this much- worshipped
popular favourite. He is Russian, too, in his
extremes of mood, which are reflected so clearly
in his facial expression. Silent and in repose,
he has the look of almost tragic sadness and
patient endurance common in the peasant types
of Great Russia. But suddenly his whole face
is lit up with a smile which is full of drollery,
and his humour is frank and infectious.

As an actor his greatest quality appears to me
to be his extraordinary gift of identification with
the character he is representing. Shaliapin
does not merely throw himself into the part, to
use a phrase commonly applied to the histrionic
art. He seems to disappear, to empty himself
of all personality, that Boris Godounov or Ivan
the Terrible may be re-incarnated for us. It
might pass for some occult process ; but it is
only consummate art. While working out his
own conception of a part, unmoved by con-
vention or opinion, Shaliapin neglects no acces-
sory study that can heighten the realism of his
interpretation. It is impossible to see him
as Ivan the Terrible, or Boris, without realising
that he is steeped in the history of those periods,

CONCLUSION 39i

which live again at his will.1 In the same way
he has studied the masterpieces of Russian art
to good purpose, as all must agree who have
compared the scene of Ivan's frenzied grief over
the corpse of Olga, in the last scene of Rimsky-
Korsakov's opera, with Repin's terrible picture
of the Tsar, clasping in his arms the body of the
son whom he has just killed in a fit of insane
anger. The agonising remorse and piteous
senile grief have been transferred from Repin's
canvas to Shaliapin's living picture, without the
revolting suggestion of the shambles which mars
the painter's work. Sometimes, too, Shaliapin
will take a hint from the living model. His
dignified make-up as the Old Believer Dositheus,
in Moussorgsky's Khovanstchina, owes not a little
to the personality of Vladimir Stassov.

Here is an appreciation of Shaliapin which
will be of special interest to the vocalist :

"One of the most striking features of his
technique is the remarkable fidelity of word
utterance which removes all sense of artificiality,
so frequently associated with operatic singing!
His diction floats on a beautiful cantilena,
particularly in his mezzo-voce singing, which—
though one would hardly expect it from a
singer endowed with such a noble bass voice—
" A singer's mind becomes subtler with every mental
excursion into history, sacred or profane."— D. Ffrangcon
Davies. " The Singing of the Future." John Lane, The
Bodley Head.

392 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

is one of the most telling features of his
performance. There is never any striving after
vocal effects, and his voice is always subservient
to the words. This style of singing is surely
that which Wagner so continually demanded
from his interpreters ; but it is the antithesis
of that staccato ' Bayreuth bark ' which a few
years ago so woefully misrepresented the
master's ideal of fine lyric diction. The atmo-
sphere and tone-colour which Shaliapin imparts
to his singing are of such remarkable quality
that one feels his interpretation of Schubert's
' Doppelganger ' must of necessity be a thing
of genius, unapproachable by other contempor-
ary singers. The range of his voice is extensive,
for though of considerable weight in the lower
parts, his upper register is remarkable in its
conformity to his demands. The sustained
upper E natural with which he finishes that great
song ' When the king went forth to war/ is
uttered with a delicate pianissimo that would do
credit to any lyric tenor or soprano. Yet his
technique is of that high order that never
obtrudes itself upon the hearer. It is always
his servant, never his master. His readings are
also his own, and it is his absence of all con-
ventionality that makes his singing of the
' Calunnia ' aria from ' II Barbiere ' a thing
of delight, so full of humour is its interpre-
tation, and so satisfying to the demands of the

CONCLUSION 3g3

most exacting ' bel cantist.' The reason is not
far to seek, for his method is based upon a

thoroughly sound breath control, which produces
such splendid cantaUle results. Every student
should listen to this great singer and profit by
his art. 1

A few concluding words as to the present
conditions of opera in Russia. They have
greatly changed during the last thirty years
In St. Petersburg the Maryinsky Theatre
erected in 1860, renovated in 1894, and more or
less reorganised in 1900, was for a long time the
only theatre available for Russian opera in the
capital. In 1900 the People's Palace, with a
theatre that accommodates 1,200 spectators was
opened with a performance of A Life for the
Isar; here the masterpieces of national opera
ire now given from time to time at popular
prices. Opera is also given in the great hall
Conservatoire, formerly the "Great
Theatre"; and occasionally in the "Little
Iheatre." In Moscow the " Great Theatre " or
Opera House is the official home of music-
drama. It now has as rivals, the Zimin Opera
(under the management of S. I. Zimin) and the
National Opera. In 1897 the Moscow Private
Opera Company was started with the object of
Communicated at my request by my friend Mr
«&^'^^^£*2%£*<*

DD

394 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

producing novelties by Russian composers, and
encouraging native opera in general. It was
located at first in the Solodovnikov Theatre,
under the management of Vinter, and the
conductorship of Zeleny. It soon blossomed
into a fine organisation when S. Mamantov, a
wealthy patron of art, came to its support.
Through its palmy days (1897-1900), Ippolitov-
Ivanov was the conductor, and a whole series of
national operas by Cui, Rimsky-Korsakov, and
others were superbly staged. Shaliapin first
made his mark at this time.

Numerous private opera companies sprang
up in Russia about the close of last century.
Cheshikin gives a list of over sixty, mounting
opera in the provinces between 1896 and 1903 ;
indeed the whole country from Archangel to
Astrakhan and from Vilna to Vladivostok seems
to have been covered by these enterprising
managers ; and the number has doubtless in-
creased in the last ten years. When, in addition
to these, we reckon the many centres which
boast a state-supported opera house, it would
appear that Russians have not much to complain
of as regards this form of entertainment. But
the surface of the country is vast, and there are
still districts where cultivated music, good or bad,
is an unknown enj oyment . Nor must we imagine
that the standard of these provincial private com-
panies is always an exalted one, or that national

CONCLUSION 395

operas, if presented at all, are mounted as we are
accustomed to see them in Western Europe.
We may hope that the case cited by a critic, of
a Moscow manager who produced Donizetti's
" La Fille du Regiment " under the title of " A
Daughter of the Regiment of La Grande
Arm.ee/ ' in a Russian version said to have been
the work of an English nursery governess, with
a picture of the Battle of Marengo as a set
background, was altogether exceptional. But
indifferent performances do occur, even in a
country so highly educated in operatic matters
as Russia may fairly claim to be.

As I write the last pages of this book, the com-
prehensiveness of its title fills me with dismay.
" An Introduction to the Study of Russian
Opera " would have been more modest and
appropriate, since no complete and well-balanced
survey of the subject could possibly be con-
tained in a volume of this size. Much that is
interesting has been passed over without com-
ment ; and many questions demanded much
fuller treatment. One fact, however, I have
endeavoured to set forth in these pages in the
clearest and most emphatic terms : Russian
opera is beyond all question a genuine growth
of the Russian soil ; it includes the aroma and
flavour of its native land " as the wine must
taste of its own grapes/' Its roots lie deep in
the folk-music, where they have spread and

396 THE RUSSIAN OPERA

flourished naturally and without effort. So
profoundly embedded and so full of vitality
are its fibres, that nothing has been able to
check their growth and expansion. Discouraged
by the Church, its germs still lived on in the
music of the people ; neglected by the pro-
fessional element, it found shelter in the hearts
of amateurs ; refused by the Imperial Opera
Houses, it flourished in the drawing-rooms of a
handful of enthusiasts. It has always existed
in some embryonic form as an inherent part of
the national life ; and when at last it received
official recognition, it quickly absorbed all that
was given to it in the way of support and atten-
tion, but persisted in throwing out its vigorous
branches in whatever direction it pleased. Per-
secution could not kill it, nor patronage spoil it ;
because it is one with the soul of the people. May
it long retain its lofty idealism and sane vigour !

INDEX OF OPERAS

ABIZARE, 35

Acts of Artaxerxes, The, 16, 17

Act of Joseph, The, 32

Adam and Eve, 18

Alcide, 53

Aleko, 373

Alexander and Darius; 25

Americans, The, 41, 43

Amore per Regnante, 34

Angel of Death, The, 380

Angelo, 272, 273, 274

Aniouta, 40, 41, 42, 96

Armida, 50

Askold's Tomb, 64

Assya, 375

BELSHAZZAR'S Feast, 380
Berenice, 34

Bird of Fire, The, 59, 382
Boeslavich, The Novgorodian

Hero, 40, 41
Boris Godounov, 225, 228-240,

250, 388

Boundary Hills, The, 64
Boyarinya Vera Sheloga, 291,

308

CAPRICE d'Oxane, Le (see Chere-
vichek), 304

Captain's Daughter, The, 280

Captive in the Caucasus, The,
269, 274

Cephalus and Procius, 36

Charodeika (see The Enchant-
ress)

Chaste Joseph, The, 18

Cherevichek, 342, 343, 358, 359

Chlorida and Milon, 41

Christmas Eve Revels, 304, 305,
306, 341

Christmas Festivals of Old, 67
Christmas Tree, The, 379
Christus, 166
Citizens of Nijny-Novgorod.The,

364, 365

Clemenza di Tito, La, 36
Cosa Rara, La, 49
Cossack Poet, The, 59
Credulity, 67
Cruelty of Nero, The, 25

DAPHNIS Pursued, 28

Deborah, 66

Demofonti, 53

Demon, The, 165, 172-177

Dianino, 49

Dido Forsaken, 35

Didone, 52

Dmitri Donskoi, 163, 168-172

Dobrynia Nikitich, 59, 374

Doubrovsky, 366

Dream on the Volga, A, 370, 371

EARLY Reign of Oleg, The, 47,50
Enchantress, The, 353, 354, 358
Epic of the Army of Igor, The, 2
Esmeralda, 119, 124, 171
Esther, 66
Eudocia Crowned, or Theodosia

11,35
Eugene Oniegin, 344"347. 35°,

353, 355. 357, 358, 359, 363,

37L375

FAIR at Sorochinsi, The, 228
Fall of Sophonisba, The, 27
Faucon, Le, 54

Feast in Time of Plague, A, 277
Fedoul and Her Children, 47, 49
Feramors, 165, 181

EE

INDEX OF OPERAS

Fevel, Tsarevich, 46, 47

Fils Rival, Le, 54

Fingal, 66

Flibustier, Le, 275, 276

Forced Marriage, The, 67

Forza dell'Amore e dell' Odio,

La, 34
Francesca da Rimini, 366, 367

GOLDEN Calf, The, 22

Golden Cock, The, 325-331, 382

Good Luke, or Here's my Day,
49

Good Maiden, The, 40

Goriousha, 166

Gostinny Dvor of St. Peters-
burg, The, 45

Gromoboi, 65

HADji-Abrek, 164, 171
Harold, 365, 366
Homesickness, 64

ICE Palace, The, 380

Ilya the Hero, 59, 60

In the Storm, 378

Invisible Prince, The, 59

lolanthe, 357, 358

Iphigenia in Aulis, 49

Iphigenia in Taurida, 52

Ivan Sousanin, 59, 60, 62, 90,

91, 92
Ivan the Terrible (see The Maid

of Pskov)

JUDITH, 150-154, 191
Judith cut off the head of
Holof ernes, How, 18, 19, 20

KASTCHEI the Immortal, 318,

3i9, 320

Khovanstchina, 241-248, 293
Kinder der Heide, 165
Kitezh, the Invisible City of,

321-325, 329
The legend of the City of,

379, 380

LEGEND of Tsar Saltan, The,
315, 3i6

Life for the Tsar, A, 62, 86, 93-
104, 145, 171, 291, 292, 363,

393
Love Brings Trouble, 46

MACCABEES, The, 165
Mahomet and Zulima, 25
Maid of Orleans, The, 349, 350,

358
Maid of Pskov, The, 171, 283,

289-295, 308, 340
Mam'selle Fifi, 276
Mandarin's Son, The, 269
Mary of Burgundy, 368
Match-Maker, The, 226, 227
Mazeppa, 350-353, 358, 359
Medecin malgre lui, Le, 25
Merchant Kalashnikov, The, 166,

177-180
Miller, The Wizard-, 40, 42, 44, 56,

96

Minerva Triumphant, 39
Miroslava, or the Funeral Pyre,

60

Miser, The, 48
Mithriadates, 35
Mlada, 303, 304
Moonlight Night, or The Domo-

voi, A, 68
Moses, 1 66

Mountains of Piedmont, The, 60
Mozart and Salieri, 307, 317
Mummers, The, 367

NAL and Damyanti, 372

Nativity, 22

Nebuchadnezzar, 21

Nero, 165, 171

Night in May, A, 295-299, 382

Nightingale, The, 382

(EDIPUS, 224, 225

(Edipus in Athens, 66

(Edipus Rex, 66

Oprichnik, The, 337-341, 350.

358, 359, 363
Orestes, 376, 377
Orpheus, 41
Orpheus and Eurydice, 18

INDEX OF OPERAS

399

PAN Sotnik, 380
Pan Tvardovsky, 64
Pan Voyevode, 320, 321
Papagei, Der, 166
Paradise Lost, 165
Peasants.The.or The Unexpected

Meeting, 59
Petrouchka, 322, 382
Pique-Dame (see The Queen of

Spades)

Power of Evil, The, 157, 158, 159
Prince Igor, 171, 182, 192, 206,

256-266, 296, 374
Prince Kholmsky, 104
Prince Serebryany, 380
Prisoner in the Caucasus, The,

68, 1 88
Prodigal Son, The, 22

QUEEN of Spades, The, 354-357,

358, 359, 363
Quinto Fabio, 53

RAPHAEL, 371
Regeneration, 40
Re Pastore, II, 52
Rogneda, 154, 155, 156
Roussalka, The, 121-130
Roussalka of the Dnieper, The 59
Roussalka-Maiden, The, 368
Ruins of Babylon, The 59
Russian and Liudmilla 77, 83,
105-114, 145, 261, 291, 292,

374
Ruth, 375

SADKO, The Rich Merchant, i
Sadko, a legendary opera, 251,

288, 309-312
Saint Alexis, 21
Salammbo, 225
Saracen, The, 274, 275
Scipio Africanus, 27
Seleucus, 35
Servilia, 317, 318
Shulamite, The, 166, 180

Sibirskie Okhotniki (The Siber-
ian Hunters), 164
Sinner's Repentance, The, 38
Skomorokhi (see The Mummers)
Snow-Maiden, The, 295, 299-303
Stone Guest, The, 123, 130-136,

187, 218, 251, 261, 290
Svietlana, 60

Tale of the Invisible City of

Kitezh, The, (see Kitezh)
Taniousha, or the Fortunate

Meeting, 39, 42
Terrible Revenge, 380
Three Hunchback Brothers, The,

59

Tobias, 18
Tom the Fool (Thomouska-

Dourachok), 163
Toushino, 368
Tower of Babel, The, 165, 171,

1 80

Tradimento per 1'honore, II, 27
Triumph of Bacchus, The, 120,

122

Tsar's Bride, The, 312-315
Tutor-Professor, The, 41
Two Antons, The, 48

UNDINE, 337

VADIM, or The Twenty Sleeping

Maidens, 64
Vakoula the Smith (see Le

Caprice d'Oxane), 304, 342
Veillee des Paysans, La, 67
Village Festival, a, 49
Voyevode, The, 336-338

WAVE, The, 369
William Ratcliff, 269-272
Wizard, The Fortune-Teller and
the Match-maker, The, 41

YEAR 1812, The, 375
Youth of John III, The, 60

INDEX OF NAMES

ABLESSIMOV, 40
Aivazovsky, 112
Aksakov, 64
Alabiev, 66, 67, 68, 88
Alekseievna.TsarevnaNatalia, 30
Alexander I., 46, 57

II, 89

Ill, 294

Andreiev, 385

Anne, Empress (Duchess of

Courland), 30, 32, 55
Antonolini, 59

Araja, Francesco, 34, 35, 36, 37
Arensky, Anton Stepanovich,

281, 369, 373

Arnold, Youry, 61, 164, 171
Asanchievsky, 284

BAKHTOURIN, 105

Bakounin, 146

Balakirev, Mily Alexeich, 122,

145, 149, 183-197, 198-207,217,

223, 254, 267, 280, 282, 334,

335, 367, 381
Baratinsky, 115
Basili, 85

Bayan, the Skald, 6, 108
Belaiev, Mitrofane Petrovich,

205-209, 381
Bellaigue, M. Camille, 102, 103,

236, 302
Berezovsky, M. S., 44, 52, 53

V. V., 3

Bielsky, V., 325, 329

Biron, Duke of Courland, 33, 38
Blaramberg, Paul Ivanovich,

367-369

Borodin, Alexander, 186, 190,
^92, 199, 204, 206, 216, 253-
266, 270, 303

Bortniansky, Dmitri Stepano-
vich, 53, 54, 365
Bourenin, 250
Bruneau, Alfred, 97

CANOBBIO, 47
Carlisle, Lord, 13
Catherine I, Empress, 31

II, 36, 39, 4°, 45, 49-52,

56

Cavos, Catterino, 58-63, 69, 92
Cheshikin, 19, 28, 35, 54, 63,
99, 143, 168, 175, 262, 294,
304, 317, 319, 352, 357, 365,

369, 373, 379, 394
Cimarosa, 37, 44
Constantine, the Grand Duke,

286, 357
Cui, Cesar, 186, 188, 192, 194,

217, 223, 264, 266-280, 291,

3°3, 335, 34°, 3«4

DARGOMIJ SKY, Alexander Sergei-
vich, 117-136, 137, 138, 156,
168, 171, 186, 195, 216, 218,
223, 228, 270, 307, 368

Davidov, 309

Dehn, Siegfried, 87, 88, 115,
119, 163

Dimitri of Rostov (Daniel Toup-
talo), 21, 22, 38

Dmitrievsky, Ivan, 38, 39

Dolina, 385

Dostoievsky, 379

Diitsh, 208

ELIZABETH, Empress, 35, 38, 56
Esposito, 307

FAMITZIN, Professor, 196

INDEX OF NAMES

401

Feodorovna, Tsaritsa Prascovya,

30

Empress Alexandra, 164

Field, John, 63, 79, 86

Figner, Nicholas and Medea,

366, 385

Fletcher, Giles, 10, n
Fomin, E. Platovich, 39-45, 55,

96
Fiirst, Otto, 29, 30

GALUPPI, Baldassare, 44, 52, 53
Gedeonov, 92, 105, 128, 134, 303
Glazounov, Alexander C., 206,

267, 381
Glinka, Michael Ivanovich, 4,

62, 63, 68-88, 118, 119, 120,

137, 145, 153, 156, 185, 202,

216, 218, 253, 262, 270, 281,

290, 294, 334- 365

his Operas, 88-116

Godounov, Boris, 12, 368
Gogol, 88, 129, 270, 295, 341
Golenishtiev-Koutouzov, Count,

231

Golovin, Boyard, 24
Goncharov, 262
Gorbounov, 35, 39
Goussakovsky, A., 211
Gregory, Yagan Gottfried, 15,

16, 17, 21
Gretchyaninov, Alexander Tik-

honovich, 281, 373
Gutovsky, Simon, 17

HERKE, 195

Holstein, Duke of, 8, 31

Hunke, 146

ILYINSKI, Dimitri, 29
Inglis, Peter, 16
Ippolitov-Ivanov, Michael, 281,

374- 394
Ivan the Terrible, 12

JOSEPH, the Patriarch, 12
Joukovsky, 60, 64, 65, 86, 89

115, 221, 348, 372
Jurgenson, J. B., 36, 42

KALASHINKEV, 159
Kalashnikov, N., 364
Kalinnikov, Vassily Sergeivich,

375

Kamenskaya, 385
Kanille-, 282
Kapnist, 41

Karamzin, 57, 221, 233
Karatagyn, 42, 44
Karmalina, the sisters, 128, 131,

194, 204
Karyakin, 384
Kashkin, 276, 374
Kazachenko, G. A., 380
Kistner, Baron, 291
Kobyakov, 49
Kochetov, N. R., 380
Koltsov, 221
Kondratiev, 230
Korestchenko, A. N., 380
Korf, Baron, 212
Korolenko, 379
Koslov, 86
Koukolnik, 104
Koulikov, 177
Kozlovsky, Joseph Antonovich,

65, 66

Kroutitsky, 42
Kroutikova, 385
Krylov, 57, 59, 115
Kunst, Johann Christain, 24,

25, 26, 29

LAJECHNIKOV, 337

Laroche, 195

Lavrov, 208

Lavrovsky, Madame, 344, 385

Lefort, General Franz, 25

Lenz ,147, 218

Leonova, Mme., 232, 269, 289

385
Lermontov, 165, 172, 177, 211,

267, 334- 38o
Levitskaya, 384
Liadov, Anatol C., 167, 206,

211, 281, 363, 381
Liapounov, 203
Likhatchiev, 13
Lissenko, 380
Lobanov, D., 152

402

INDEX OF NAMES

Locatelli, 56

Lodyjensky, Nicholas, 186, 211

Lomakin, 190

MAIKOV, V., 49, 172
Maleziomova, Mme., 167
Mamantov, 266, 387, 394
Mann, 31

Martin, Vincente, 48, 49
Martini, Padre, 44
Matinsky, Michael, 40, 45
Matveiev, Boyard, 13, 16, 17,

23

Maupassant, Guy de, 276
Maurer, Ludwig, 63, 66
Meek, Nadejda von, 285, 348,

360

Medoks, 56
Melgounov, 371
Melnikov, 176, 266, 272, 289,

365, 384

Menshikova, 384
Mey, 291
Meyer, Carl, 79
Mikhailovich, Alexis Tsar, 8, 12,

13, 14, 15, 17, 21, 22
Milioukhov, Professor, 5
Molas, Mme. (see Pourgold), 194
Moniuszko, 268
Morfill, R. W. Professor, 256
Moussorgsky, Modeste, 70, 140,

147, 186, 188, 192, 196, 216,

217-252, 253, 264, 289, 291,

303, 365

Mravina, 371, 385
Muscovy, Grand Duke of, 8
Myassedov, 188

NAPRAVNIK, Edward Franzo-

vich, 269, 289, 309, 363-367
Naryshkin, Natalia, 13
Nekrassov, 129, 221
Nicholas I, the Emperor, 92
-T- II, 268
Nikitin, 129, 221
Nikolaiev, 41
Nikolsky, Professor, 228,
Nikolsky (Singer), 385
Nossov, 39

OBMANA, 79

Odoevsky, Prince, 89, 121

Oginsky, Prince Gregory, 27

Olearius, Adam, 8

Orlov, 289, 385

Oserov, 66

Ostrovsky, 157, 158, 270, 295,

336, 368, 370
Oulibishev, 147, 183
Ouroussov, Prince, 56
Oussatov, 386

PAESIELLO, Giovanni, 37, 44, 51
Paskievich, Vassily, 45, 46, 47,

48.55

Patouillet, 8, 21, 22
Paul I, the Emperor, 49
Petrovich, Tsarevich, 54,

Pavlovna, Grand Duchess He-
lena, 142, 151, 163, 164, 341

Pavlovskaya, 365, 384

Peter the Great, 23, 24, 26, 31

Petrov, Ossip, 64, 93, 128, 176,
289, 383

Petrovsky, 318

Platonova, 289, 384

Plestcheiev, 67, 270

Procopius, 2

Prokovich, Bishop Theofane, 32

Polonsky, 341, 342, 359

Polotsky, Simeon, 19, 21, 22

Ponomariev, E., 366

Popov, M. V., 40, 41

Potemkin, 14, 44, 51

Pourgold, Alexandra N. (see
Molas), 194, 228

Nadejda N. (see Rimsky-

Korsakov), 195

Poushkin, 57, 89, 105, 121, 123,
129, 131, 221, 233, 234, 262,
269, 277, 280, 307, 325, 344,
35°. 355, 366, 373
Count Moussin-, 256

RAAB, 384

Rachmaninov, Sergius Vassilie-

vich, 321, 373
Raphael, 371
Razoumovsky, Count,

INDEX OF NAMES

403

Rebikov, Vladimir Ivanovich,

3?8

Richepin, Jean, 276

Rimsky-Korsakov, 70, 123, 167,
1 86, 187, 1 88; 189, 192, 196,
199, 205, 206, 216, 219, 226,
231, 248-252, 281-333, 369,

365

Mme. (see Pourgold), 195

Rodislavsky, 39
Rosenburg, 165

Rozen, Baron, 90

Rubinstein, Anton, 139, 142,

143, 149, 162-182, 196, 201,

215. 294

Nicholas, 163, 376

SALIERI, 44

Sarti, Giuseppe, 37, 44, 47, 50,

5i

Savinov, the Protopope, 17

Sekar-Rojansky, 309

Serov, Alexander, 19, 54, 65, 98,

106, 128, 133, 143-160, 170,

191, 195, 271, 294, 335, 341

his operas, 150-160

Shakovsky, Prince, 60, 66
Shaliapin, Feodor I., 64, 128,

266, 291, 293, 307. 373. 374.

383. 385-393, 394
Sheremetiev, Count, 374
Shestakov, Liudmilla Ivanovna,

194. 290
Shkafer, 307
Slavina, 365, 371, 385
Smirnov, Simeon, 28
Sollogoub, Count, 163
Soloviev, 94, 159
Soumarakov, 36
Splavsky, 24, 25
Stassov, Vladimir, 77, 78, 84,

88, 106, 123, 132, 135, 139,

144, 150, 159, 173, 186, 195,
199, 212-217, 223, 225, 226,
231, 248, 255, 290, 343, 383,
391

Steibelt, 63

Steiner, 63

Stravinsky, Igor, 281, 322, 382

Stravinsky (Singer), 365

TANEIEV, Sergius Ivanovich,
373, 376

Tarquini, 63

Tchaikovsky, P. T.; 48, 51, 70,
114, 155, 195, 196, 254, 266,
271, 281, 285, 294, 333, 334,

361, 365, 37°, 373, 376, 379

Modeste, 354, 366, 372

Tcherepnin, 210, 281
Tikhonraviev, 15

Titov, 56

Alexis, Nicholas, and Ser-
gius, 66, 67

Todi, 51

Tolstoy, Count Alexis, 109, 367

Theophil, 195

Tourgeniev, 109, 214
Trediakovsky, Vassily Cyrillo-

vich, 32, 33, 34
Tseibikha, 118

USIPOV, Prince 119

VASSILENKO, Serge, 379
Vassiliev, 385
Vassilievich, 365
Vaznietsov, 261, 309
Verstovsky, Alexis Nicholae-

vich, 63-67
Villoins, A., 162
Vinter, 394

Vistakov, Professor, 172
Vladimir, " The Red Sun " 3
Volkov, F. G., 36, 38, 39
Von-Staden, Count, 14
Vyazemsky, Prince, 89

WAGNER, 151, 160

YAGJINSKY, Count, 45
Yagoujinsky, 31
Yastrebtsiev, V., 250
Youssipov, Prince, 91, 363

ZAGOSKIN, 64

Zaremba, 195, 284

Zeleny, 394

Zeuner, 79

Zimin, 393

Zotov, Mme. S. I., 194

^utuv, iviiuc. o. j.., i.y

Zvantsiev, K. I., 151

BINDING SECT. ML 19 1968

ML

1737

N38

Music

Newmarch, Rosa Harriet
( Jeaf freson)

The Russian opera

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

EDWARD JOHNSON
MUSIC LIBRARY