RUSSLAN AND LUDMILLA

MICHAEL IVANOVICH GLINKA'S second opera is based upon one of Pushkin's earliest poems. The poet had hardly agreed to prepare a dramatic version of his fairy tale for the composer when he was killed in a duel incurred owing to the supposed infidelity of his wife. As a result of his untimely end, Glinka employed the services of no less than five different librettists. This, of course, weakened the story.

The opera opens with an entertainment held by the Grand Duke of Kieff in honour of his daughter Ludmilla's suitors. Of the three, Russlan, a knight, Ratmir, an Oriental poet, and Farlaf, a blustering coward. Russlan is the favoured one. A thunderclap followed by sudden darkness interrupts the festivities. When this is over, Ludmilla has disappeared. Her father, Svietosar, promises her hand in marriage to anyone who will rescue her.

The second act takes place in the cave of Finn, the wizard, to whom Russlan has come for advice. The knight hears that the abduction is the work of Tchernomor the dwarf. Finn warns him against the interference of Naina, a wicked fairy. He then starts out on his search. The next scene shows Farlaf in consultation with Naina. The fairy advises him to neglect Ludmilla until she is found by Russlan, then to carry her off again. The next scene shows Russlan on a battlefield. In spite of the mist he finds a lance and shield. When the atmosphere grows clearer he discovers a gigantic head, which by its terrific breathing creates a storm. Russlan subdues the head with a stroke of his lance. Under it is the magic sword which will make him victorious over Tchernomor. The head then explains that its condition is due to its brother, the dwarf, and reveals to Russlan the means to be made of the sword.

In the third act, at the enchanted palace of Naina, Gorislava, who loves Ratmir appears. When the object of her passion appears he slights her for a siren of Naina's court. Russlan, too, is imperilled by the sirens, but he is saved from their fascination by Finn.

The fourth act takes place in the dwelling of Tchernomor. Ludmilla, in despair, refuses to be consoled by any distraction. She finally falls asleep, only to be awakened by Tchernomor and his train. The arrival of Russlan interrupts the ensuing ballet. Forcing Ludmilla into a trance, Tchernomor meets Russlan in single combat. The knight is victorious, but unable to awaken Ludmilla from her sleep. He carries her off.

In the fifth act, Russlan with a magic ring, the gift of Finn, breaks Tchernomor's spell and restores Ludmilla to consciousness.

PRINCE IGOR

Opera in four acts and a prologue by Borodin. Libretto suggested by Stassoff, written by the composer.

The prologue takes place in the market-place of Poultivle where Igor, Prince of Seversk lives. Although implored to postpone his departure because of an eclipse of the sun, which his people regard as an evil omen, Igor with his son Vladimir Igoreivitch departs to pursue the Polovtsy, an Oriental tribe, driven to the plains of the Don by Prince Sviatoslav of Kiev. Prince Galitzky, Igor's brother, remains to govern Poultivle and watch over the Princess Yaroslavna. The first scene of the first act shows Galitzky a traitor, endeavouring to win the populace to his side with the help of Eroshka and Skoula, two deserters from Igor's army. In the second scene of this act young girls complain to Yaroslavna about the abduction of one of their companions. They ask her protection against Galitzky. Yaroslavna has a scene with her brother and orders him from her presence. News is brought that Igor's army has been defeated, that he and the young prince are prisoners, and that the enemy is marching upon Poultivle. The loyal Boyards swear to defend their princess.

The second and third acts take place in the camp of the Polovtsy. Young Vladimir has fallen in love with Khan Konchak's beautiful daughter, Konchakovna. He serenades her in her tent. His father laments his captivity. Ovlour, a soldier of the enemy, offers to help him escape, but Igor refuses to repay the Khan's chivalrous conduct in that manner. In the second act the Khan gives a banquet in honour of his captive. Oriental dances and choruses are introduced.

Prince Igor ballet

Photo by Mishkin

Scene from the Ballet in “Prince Igor” (with Rosina Galli)

In the third act the victorious Polovstians return with prisoners from Poultivle. Igor consents to escape. Konchakovna learns of the secret preparations for flight which Ovlour arranges by giving the army a liberal allowance of wine. After a wild orgy the soldiers fall asleep. When Igor gives the signal for flight, Konchakovna throws herself upon young Vladimir and holds him until his father has disappeared. The soldiers rush to kill him as in revenge for Igor's escape, but the Khan is content to let him remain as his daughter's husband.

In the last act the lamenting Yaroslavna is cheered by the return of her husband, and together they enter the Kremlin at Poultivle.

Borodin, who divided his life between science and music, wrote his opera piece by piece. Rimsky-Korsakoff wrote that he often found him working in his laboratory that communicated directly with his house. "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 that 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, himself, wrote: "In winter 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.'"

He never finished his opera. It was completed by Rimsky-Korsakoff and his pupil Glazounoff, and three years after his death received its first performance. Borodin never wrote down the overture, but Glazounoff heard him play it so frequently that it was an easy matter for him to orchestrate it according to Borodin's wishes. The composer left this note about his opera: "It is curious to see how all the members of our set agree in praise of my work. While controversy rages amongst us on every other subject, all, so far, are pleased with 'Igor.' Moussorgsky, the ultra-realist, the innovating lyrico-dramatist, Cui, our master, Balakireff, so severe as regards form and tradition, Vladimir Stassoff himself, our valiant champion of everything that bears the stamp of novelty or greatness."

BORIS GODOUNOFF

Boris Godounoff cast

Photo by White

Anna Case as Feodor, Didur as Boris, and Sparkes as Xenia,
in “Boris Godounoff”

The subject brings to the stage one of the most curious episodes of the history of Russia in the seventeenth century. A privy councillor of the Czar Feodor, son of Ivan, named Boris Godounoff, has caused to be assassinated the young Dimitri, brother of the emperor and his only heir. On the death of Feodor, Boris, who has committed his crime with the sole object of seizing power, causes himself to be acclaimed by the people and ascends the throne. But about the same time, a young monk named Grischka escapes from his convent, discards his habit, and goes to Poland where he passes as the dead czarevitch Dimitri. The Polish government receives him all the more cordially as it understands all the advantage such an event might afford it. Soon the pretended Dimitri, who has married the daughter of one of the most powerful magnates, puts himself at the head of the Polish army and marches with it against Russia. Just at this moment they hear of the death of Boris, and the false Dimitri, taking advantage of the circumstances, in turn usurps power which he is destined not to keep very long.

Such is the poetical drama, the arrangement of which is a little inconsistent from the scenic point of view, and which a historian of Russian music, himself a musician, M. CÉsar Cui, treats in these words: "There is no question here of a subject of which the different parts, combined in such a way as to present a necessary sequence of events, one flowing from the other, correspond in their totality to the ideas of a strict dramatic unity. Each scene in it is independent; the rÔles, for the greater part, are transitory. The episodes that we see follow each other necessarily have a certain connection; they all relate more or less to a general fact, to a common action; but the opera would not suffer from a rearrangement of the scenes nor even from a substitution of certain secondary episodes by others. This depends on the fact that 'Boris Godounoff' properly speaking is neither a drama nor an opera, but rather a musical chronicle after the manner of the historical dramas of Shakespeare. Each of the acts, taken separately, awakens a real interest which, however, is not caused by what goes before and which stops brusquely without connection with the scene which is going to follow." Let us add that some of these scenes are written entirely in prose while others are in verse and we will have a general idea of the make-up of the libretto of "Boris Godounoff," which moreover offered the composer a series of scenes very favourable to music.

The score of Moussorgsky is uneven, like his talents, but nevertheless remains very interesting and indicative of a distinct personality. Although the composer was not much of a symphonist and rather indifferently understood how to manage the resources of the orchestra, although his harmony is sometimes strange and rude and his modulation incorrect and excessive, he had at least a lavishness of inspiration, the abundance and zest of which are calculated to cause astonishment. He is a musician perhaps of more instinct than of knowledge, who goes straight ahead without bothering himself about obstacles and who sometimes trips while on his way but who nevertheless reaches his object, sometimes even going beyond it by his strength of audacity.

Not much of a symphonist, as I have said, Moussorgsky did not even take the trouble to write an overture and some entr'actes. But certain pages of his score are not the less remarkable for their accent, their colour, and their scenic effect, and especially for the national feeling which from a musical point of view flows from them. Under this head we would point out in the first act the great military scene, which is of superb brilliance, and the chorus of begging monks; in the second, the entire scene of the inn, in which the dramatic intensity does not lessen for a second and which presents an astonishing variety of rhythm and colour; then, in the third, the chorus of female attendants, sung on a Cracovian woman's air, the song of Marina in the style of a mazurka, and a great Polish dance full of go and warmth; finally the whole episode of the death of Boris, which has a really gripping effect. These are enough, in spite of the inequalities and defects of the work, to cause regret for the death of an artist endowed with a very individual style, whose instruction had been doubtless incomplete, but who nevertheless seemed called to have a brilliant future.

EUGEN ONEGIN

As the characterization of the opera as "lyrical scenes" shows, the poet offers no substantial work, but follows closely, often even word for word, Pushkin's epic tale, with which one must be fully acquainted—as is the case with everybody in Russia—in order to be able to follow the opera properly.

Act I. Eugen Onegin has been called from a wild life of pleasure to his sick uncle, of whose property he takes possession after the uncle's sudden death. He has brought with him from the big city a profound satiety of all enjoyments and a deep contempt for the society of mankind in his solitary country seat. Here, however, he forms a friendship for a young fanatic, the poet Lenski. Through him he is introduced to Larina, a woman who owns an estate. Her two daughters, Olga and Tatiana, correspond to the double nature of their mother, whose youth was a period of sentimentality in which she allowed herself to be affected like others by Richardson's novels, raved over Grandison, and followed the wild adventures of Lovelace with anxious thrills. Life later had made her rational, altogether too rational and insipid. Olga now has become a cheerful, superficial, pleasureful silly young girl; Tatiana, a dreamer whose melancholy is increasing through reading books which her mother had once used. Lenski is betrothed to Olga. Tatiana recognizes at her first sight of Onegin the realization of her dreams. Her heart goes out to meet him and in her enthusiasm she reveals all her feelings in a letter to him. Onegin is deeply stirred by this love; a feeling of confidence in mankind that he had not known for such a long time awakens in him. But he knows himself too well. He knows that every faculty as a husband is departing from him. And now he considers it his duty not to disappoint this maiden soul, to be frank. He refuses her love. He takes the blame on himself, but he would not have been the worldly wise man if his superiority to the simple country child had not been emphasized chiefly on this account. But Tatiana only listens to the refusal; she is very unhappy. Onegin remains her ideal, who now will be still more solitary, in spite of it.

Act II. Tatiana's name-day is being celebrated with a big ball. Onegin goes there on Lenski's invitation. The stupid company with their narrow views about him vex him so much that he seeks to revenge himself on Lenski for it, for which he begins courting Olga. Lenski takes the jest in earnest; it comes to a quarrel between the friends. Lenski rushes out and sends Onegin a challenge. Social considerations force Onegin to accept the challenge; a duelling fanatic landlord, Saretsky stirs Lenski's anger so severely that a reconciliation is not possible. This part in Pushkin's work is the keenest satire, an extraordinarily efficacious mockery of the whole subject of duelling. There is derision on Onegin's side, too, for he chooses as his second his coachman Gillot. But the duel was terribly in earnest; Lenski falls shot through by his opponent's bullet. (This scene recalls a sad experience of the poet himself; for he himself fell in a duel by the bullet of a supercilious courtier, Georg d'AnthÈs-Heckeren, who died in Alsace in 1895.)

Act III. Twenty-six years later. Onegin has restlessly wandered over the world. Now he is in St. Petersburg at a ball given by Prince Gremin. There, if he sees aright, Princess Gremina, that accomplished woman of the world is "his" Tatiana. Now his passion is aroused in all its strength. He must win her. Tatiana does not love him with the same ardour as before. When she upbraids Onegin that he loves her only because she has now become a brilliant woman of the world it is only a means of deceiving herself and her impetuous adorer as to her real feelings. But finally her true feeling is revealed. She tells Onegin that she loves him as before. But at the same time she explains that she will remain true to her duty as a wife. Broken-hearted Onegin leaves her.

PIQUE-DAME
THE QUEEN OF SPADES

The libretto of Tschaikowsky's "Pique-Dame" was first prepared by the composer's brother Modeste for a musician who later refused to use it. Tschaikowsky wrote it in six weeks, during a stay in Florence. The libretto is that of the well-known story by Pushkin. Herman, the hero, a passionate gambler, loves Lisa, whom he met while walking in the summer garden in St. Petersburg. He learns that she is the granddaughter of "the belle of St. Petersburg," famous in her old age as the luckiest of card players. So strange is the old lady's appearance that she has been named "The Queen of Spades." The two women exert conflicting influences over Herman. He loves Lisa, while the old woman awakens his gambling impulses. It is said that the old Countess's success at the card table is based upon her secret knowledge of a combination of three cards. Herman is bent upon learning the secret. Although Lisa loves Herman she engages herself to Prince Yeletsky. With the hope of forcing the old woman to reveal her secret, he hides in her bedroom one night. When she sees him the shock kills her, and Herman learns nothing. Half-crazed with remorse Herman is haunted by the old Countess's ghost. The apparition shows him the three cards.

When he goes to her house the night after her funeral and plays against Prince Yeletsky, he wins twice by the cards shown him by the ghost. He stakes everything he possesses on the third card but he turns up, not the expected card, but the queen of spades herself. At the same instant he sees a vision of the Countess, triumphant and smiling. Desperate, Herman ends his life.

Tschaikowsky enjoyed his work on this opera. He wrote as follows to the Grand Duke Constantine: "I composed this opera with extraordinary joy and fervour, 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 heart of my audiences." First performed at St. Petersburg in 1890, this opera soon rivalled "Eugen Onegin" in popularity.

LE COQ D’OR
THE GOLDEN COCK

Opera pantomime in three acts with prologue and epilogue. Produced in May, 1910, at Zimin's Private Theatre, Moscow. Music by Rimsky-Korsakoff.

Characters