N. Rimsky-Korsakov

5. THE TALE OF GILGAMESH The clay tablets on which the earliest recordings of folk tales about Gilgamesh were made date back to the middle of the 3rd millennium BC. BC There is reason to believe that Gilgamesh was a real historical figure. His name is preserved in

51. THE TALE OF SIGMUNDS Sigmund is one of the heroes of the Old Norse “Saga of the Volsungs.” The word “saga” is derived from a verb that means “to tell.” In Old Icelandic, any prose work was called a saga. Old Icelandic sagas were created in the XIII–XTV

52. THE TALE OF SIGURD The Frankish king Sigmund, the great-grandson of the god Odin himself, was a glorious warrior. But his time came, and he died in battle. Enemies captured his country, a foreign king Lyngvi took his throne. The widow Sigmund Hjordis found shelter with the king of Denmark Hialprek. Hjerdis was

55. THE TALE OF CUCHUAIN Cuchulain is the main character of the Irish epic. The Irish are the people Celtic origin. In the middle of the 1st millennium BC. e. Celtic tribes inhabited a significant part of Europe in the 6th century BC. e. they took over the British Isles, conquering the local tribe

The Legend of Siavush From the poetic epic “Shahnameh” (1st ed. - 994, 2nd ed. - 1010) They say that one morning the valiant Tus and Giv, famous in battles, accompanied by hundreds of warriors with greyhounds and falcons, galloped to the plain Come and amuse yourself with hunting. Having shot

The Tale of Sohrab From the poetic epic “Shahnameh” (1st ed. - 944, 2nd ed. - 1010) One day, Rostem, waking up at dawn, filled his quiver with arrows, saddled his mighty horse Rekhsh and rushed to Turan. On the way, he smashed an onager with his mace and roasted him on a spit from the trunk

The Legend of the City of Kitezh Kitezh is a mythical wonderful city, which, according to Russian legends, escaped from the troops of Batu in the 13th century due to the fact that it sank to the bottom of Lake Svetloyar. Old Believers described Kitezh as a refuge for followers of the old faith. And the mystics of the 19th century

Characters:

HISTORY OF CREATION

The ancient Russian legend about the city of Kitezh attracted attention as an opera plot in 1898. Then the idea arose to connect her with the image of Fevronia, the heroine of the popular Murom story about Peter and Fevronia. This image took a central place in the libretto of V.I. Belsky (1866-1946). The composer began composing music at the beginning of 1903. By the end of September of the following year, the score of the opera was completed. The first performance took place on February 7 (20), 1907 on the stage of the Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg.

“The Tale of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronia” is one of the most significant works of Russian opera classics. It is characterized by a combination of epic and lyric poetry, heroic and fantastic motifs of folk poetry. The plot is based on an ancient Russian legend of the 13th century, the era of Tatar-Mongol rule. Real historical events took on a fantastic coloring in it. According to legend, the city of Kitezh was saved from destruction by the Tatars by “God’s will”: it became invisible and became a place of ideal, according to popular understanding, earthly life.

In working on the libretto, Belsky widely used a variety of motifs from folk poetry. As a result, as the librettist rightly asserted, “in the entire work there is not a single detail that would not in one way or another be inspired by a feature of some legend, poem, plot or other fruit of Russian folk art.”

Before the viewer passes a gallery of bright national types, unprecedentedly new on the opera stage. This is Fevronia - the ideal image of a Russian woman, faithful and loving, wise and benevolent, modest and selflessly devoted, ready for the feat of self-sacrifice. She is sharply contrasted with the image of Kuterma, stunning in its drama and life truth - a morally broken man, crushed by poverty. In terms of its social and accusatory power, this image has no equal in world operatic literature. The tragic fates of the main characters are shown in inseparable connection with the fate of the people experiencing the difficult times of the Tatar invasion, against the backdrop of pictures of Russian nature, folk life, and the patriotic struggle against a ruthless enemy. In accordance with the content of folk legends, along with the real ones, magical pictures of heavenly nature and the miraculously transformed city of Kitezh appear in the opera.

PLOT

In the deep thicket of the Trans-Volga forests stands Fevronia’s hut. Her days are full of peace, quiet, joyful thoughts. Animals and birds flock to her voice. One day an unfamiliar young man appeared in the clothes of a prince's hunter. The young man was struck by the girl's enthusiastic speeches about the beauty of nature, about the happiness of living under the majestic arches of forests, enjoying the radiance of the sun, the aroma of flowers, the shine of the blue sky. They liked each other and decided to exchange rings. Only The young man had time to set off on his way back when the archer-hunters, led by Fyodor Poyark, appeared, looking for their comrade. From them, Fevronia learned that the unknown young man to whom she had become engaged was Prince Vsevolod, the son of the old Prince Yuri, who ruled in Great Kitezh.

The shopping area of ​​Maly Kitezh is crowded with people, impatiently waiting for the arrival of the bride and groom. A guide with a bear makes the crowd laugh; Guslyar, gray-haired like a harrier, sings an epic. The rich people of Kitezh are grumbling, dissatisfied with the fact that a simple peasant woman will become a princess. Seeing the drunk Grishka Kuterma, they give him money so that he can get drunk and properly “honor” the bride. The people of Kitezh joyfully greet their mistress. But Grishka Kuterma approaches Fevronia with impudent speeches, mocking her simple origin and poverty. The people drive him away, and at a sign from his friend - Fyodor Poyarka - the girls start a wedding song. Suddenly the song ends. The sound of military horns is heard, and crowds of people run out into the square in confusion, pursued by the Tatars. The Tatars are angry: none of the residents agrees to hand over their prince, to show the way to Great Kitezh. They attack Kuterma with threats, and Hawkmoth cannot stand it: fearing terrible torment, he agrees to lead the Tatar army.

At one of the churches of Great Kitezh, people gathered at midnight to listen to the messenger - Fyodor Poyarka, blinded by his enemies. Those present are shocked by his mournful story about the national disaster and that, according to rumors, Fevronia is leading the Tatars to the Great Kitezh. At the call of old Prince Yuri, the people offer prayers for salvation. Prince Vsevolod asks his father to bless him and his squad for a feat of arms and sets out from Great Kitezh to meet the enemies. As soon as their song died down in the distance, the city was enveloped in a light, golden fog, and the bells themselves began to hum quietly, foreshadowing deliverance.

On a dark, impenetrable night, Grishka led the Tatars, and with them the captive Fevronia, to Lake Svetloyar. But the Tatar warriors do not believe the traitor; They tied him tightly to a tree to wait for the morning, and began to divide the plunder. The Tatars boast of their victory over the Kitezh army and talk about the death of Prince Vsevolod. A dispute broke out between the warriors about who should own the Polonyanka Fevronia. In the heat of a quarrel, Burundai kills his opponent with an ax blow. The division is over, the tipsy Tatars fall asleep. Fevronia cries bitterly for her dead fiancé. Grishka Kuterma calls out to her; him, betrayed to the enemy native land, who slandered Fevronia, is tormented by remorse. In despair, he asks Fevronia to set him free so that he can atone for the grave sin of betrayal. Fevronia felt sorry for the unfortunate hawk moth, and she freed him from his bonds. Grishka wants to run but cannot: the ringing of the bell fills his soul with irresistible fear. He rushed to the lake to drown himself, and was dumbfounded at the sight of an unprecedented spectacle: the first rays rising sun slid along the surface of the water, illuminated the empty shore of Svetloyar, and below it in the lake - the reflection of the capital city of Great Kitezh. In insane surprise, with a wild cry, Kuterma disappeared into the forest thicket. Saw the reflection invisible city and Tatars. The mysterious sight filled them with panic. Forgetting about everything, they fled in horror from the terrible place.

In the deep thicket of the Kerzhen forests, through windbreaks and tenacious bushes, Fevronia and Kuterma, who fled from the Tatars, make their way. They are tormented by hunger and fatigue. Unable to withstand the pangs of conscience and terrible visions, Kuterma disappears into the dense forest. Exhausted Fevronia sinks onto the grass, calling on death as the deliverer. Unprecedented flowers bloom around her, candles light up on tree branches, the voices of birds of paradise prophesy peace and happiness to her, and the ghost of Prince Vsevolod approaches from the depths of the clearing. Once again full of strength, Fevronia joyfully rushes to meet him, and the young people slowly retreat to Great Kitezh.

In the square of the miraculously transformed city they are met by people in white robes. Intricate towers are illuminated with a bright silvery glow, a lion and a unicorn with silver fur guard the princely mansions, birds of paradise sing, sitting on high spiers. Fevronia looks at the magical city with amazement. To the sounds of heavenly pipes, people sing a wedding song, unsung in Little Kitizh. But Fevronia remembers the unfortunate, crazy Grishka Kuterma, who is not destined to enter the magical Kitezh, and decides to send him a message. Finally, the letter is written, and the young couple, accompanied by solemn singing and ringing of bells, slowly and majestically march into the cathedral to the crown.

MUSIC

“The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronia” is an opera legend. The slow development of the action, the abundance of broad expressive melodies of a Russian song character give the opera a distinctive national coloring, the flavor of distant hoary antiquity.

The orchestral introduction “In Praise of the Desert” paints a picture of a forest with the rustling of leaves and birdsong; Fevronia's melodies sound here.

The music of the first act is imbued with a bright lyrical mood. Fevronia’s song “Oh, you are the forest, my forest, the beautiful desert” is marked by spiritual purity and serene calm. The big scene of Fevronia with the prince is gradually filled with a jubilant, enthusiastic feeling. A love duet, warm and intimate, completes it. The duet is interrupted by the calling signals of hunting horns and the courageous song of the archers. The act ends with powerful, proud fanfares, symbolizing the image of Great Kitezh.

The second act is a monumental historical fresco, painted with a broad brush. Guslyar's mournful epic (a prophecy of a coming disaster) is designed in the style of an ancient epic tale. It is followed by a choir reminiscent of folk lamentations and laments. In a developed scene, a multifaceted characterization of Grishka Kuterma is given. The ringing of bells in the orchestra and joyful exclamations unite in a solemn choir welcoming Fevronia. In the scene of the meeting between Fevronia and Kuterma, her smooth, lyrical, melodious melodies are sharply contrasted with the angular, convulsive speech of the hawk moth. The Tatar invasion marks a sharp turn in the action; right up to the end of the act, the music is dominated by the elements of gloomy colors, threatening, harsh sounds that depict the Tatar invasion.

The third act consists of two scenes, which are connected by a symphonic intermission. The first picture is painted in dark, harsh colors, emphasizing the drama of the events taking place. Poyark’s gloomy, mournful story, interrupted by excited exclamations of the choir, forms a wide scene, saturated with great internal tension. Prince Yuri’s aria “Oh glory, vain wealth!” is imbued with a mood of heavy thought and deep sadness. The heroic song of the squad, which Vsevolod sings, is overshadowed by a premonition of doom. The final episode of the picture is full of mysteriously flickering sounds, the muffled hum of bells and magical numbness.

The symphonic intermission “The Battle of Kerzhenets” is an outstanding example of Russian program music. The battle between the Tatars and the Russians is depicted here with stunning realism and visual clarity. Having reached the limit of drama, the battle ends; only the echoes of the receding wild race are heard, which was opposed by the now broken beautiful melody of the song of the Kitezh squad. The Tatar choir “Not Hungry Crows” sounds tired and joyless at the beginning of the second picture. Fevronia's lamentations resemble a drawn-out folk song. Melancholy, feverish excitement, passionate prayer, grief, joy, horror - these nervously alternating states convey the terrible mental anguish of Kuterma. Confused choral phrases of the Tatars and a menacing alarm bell complete the third act.

The fourth act also consists of two scenes connected by a vocal-symphonic intermission. The first picture falls into two large sections. In the center of the first is Kuterma. Music with enormous tragic power conveys the acute mental discord of a man losing his mind, the wild visions of his hallucinating fantasy. The next section is devoted to showing the wonderful transformation of nature. The picture ends with a light lyrical duet.

The vocal-symphonic intermission “Walking into the Invisible City” follows without a break; Against the background of a radiant, majestic procession and joyful chimes, the intricate singing of birds of paradise sounds. The music of the second picture creates a motionless panorama of the wonderful city, as if frozen in a fairy-tale charm. Vocal phrases of the characters and choral episodes follow each other smoothly and sedately; their major sound illuminates the music with a soft and even glow. Only the wedding song and the gloomy images that appear in the scene of Fevronia’s letter remind us of past terrible events. The opera ends with an enlightened, long-fading chord.

1 The scene of Fevronia’s letter to Kuterma, according to the tradition of the first productions of the opera, is usually released.

“The Tale of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronia” is the fourteenth opera by Russian composer Nikolai Andreevich Rimsky-Korsakov. The opera has four acts, six scenes. The plot is based on the late 18th century legend about the city of Kitezh. The libretto was compiled by the composer together with V.I. Belsky. On February 7 (20), the opera premiered on the stage of the Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg.

History of creation

The idea of ​​creating an opera based on the story of the city of Kitezh came to the composer long before its implementation. In the “Chronicle of My Musical Life” he mentions that in the winter of 1898/1899 and in 1900 he discussed with his librettist V.I. Belsky “the legend of the “Invisible City of Kitezh” in connection with the legend of St. Fevronia of Murom". From that moment on, the thought of creating an opera based on this plot did not leave the composer and he made sketches for it. For example, in a letter to V.I. Belsky dated May 31, 1901, he wrote:

However, he could not get serious about creating this opera due to the lack of a libretto, and therefore he repeatedly hurried his librettist, as, for example, in a letter dated September 27, 1902:

And yet, almost another year passed before active work on creating music began in the summer of 1903. The joint work of the composer and librettist took place orally, so practically no materials about it have survived. However, it can be said with confidence that at all stages of work on the plot, the composer delved into all the details; in the text of the opera there was “not a single intention that would not have been approved by the composer.” At the same time, Rimsky-Korsakov’s close friends felt that before their eyes a work is being created that is unique in its depth of ethical issues, however, their high demands on the nascent creation caused the composer a feeling of annoyance. From the moment active composer work on the opera began, composing progressed quite quickly. The sketch was completed in July 1904, the orchestration was completed by October 1904, and at the same time an agreement was concluded with Belyaev’s company to publish the opera score. In the spring of 1906, work began on learning the opera at the Mariinsky Theater. The premiere took place on February 7, 1907 (this day coincided with the day of elections to the Second State Duma) and was a stunning success.

Text and plot sources

At the first turn to the plot of the future opera, two different folk legends turned out to be inextricably linked in the composer’s mind - about the invisible city of Kitezh and about Saint Fevronia of Murom. The authors' instincts sensed something essential in them that united them. However, as V.I. Belsky notes in the preface to the publication of the score, “for an extensive and complex stage work, the features scattered in these sources are not enough. For this reason, numerous and far-reaching additions were necessary, which, however, the author considered only as an attempt, from individual fragments and hints, to guess the whole hidden in the depths of the people’s spirit.” Further development of the plot was carried out using a huge collection of various materials. As a result, a work was born in which “there is not a single detail that was not in one way or another inspired by a feature of some legend, poem, conspiracy or other fruit of Russian folk art.” Text sources included:

• “The Kitezh Chronicler”, reported by Meledin and printed in Bessonov’s notes to the IV edition of Kireevsky’s collection of songs, there are also various oral traditions about the invisible city of Kitezh;
• The Tale of Peter and Fevronia of Murom;
• The Tale of Woe-Misfortune;
• Melnikov-Pechersky P.I. “In the Woods”, novel;
• Ipatiev and Laurentian Chronicles;
• Korolenko V. G. “Svetloyar”, essay;
• Maykov A. N. “The Wanderer”, dramatic sketch.

The resulting libretto is distinguished by its outstanding literary qualities. It was nominated by academician A.F. Koni for the Pushkin Prize and was rejected only on formal grounds (publication earlier than the deadlines established for receiving the prize).

Characters and premiere casts

Plot

Act I

The opera opens with the introduction “In Praise of the Desert.” In the “desert” (more correctly, “desert”) - that is, in an empty, deserted place, in a deep forest, young Fevronia lives with her brother, a tree frog, who extracts honey in the summer. Fevronia lives in peace and harmony with the forest, wild animals they come to her so that she can feed and care for them. Having gotten lost while hunting, Prince Vsevolod accidentally sees Fevronia. At first, he is afraid of her, like a forest ghost, but after making sure that there is a living girl in front of him, he strikes up a conversation, asking about her life. He is surprised by her smart and poetic words, her attitude towards nature as the “Church of God”, her conviction that human life should be “joyful”. She treats his hand, which was wounded in a fight with a bear. In the conversation, Vsevolod calls himself a princely hunter. He is struck by the wisdom and beauty of Fevronia, he exchanges rings with her, promises to send matchmakers and leaves. In search of Vsevolod, his warriors come to Fevronia, from them she learns that Vsevolod is a prince, the son of Prince Yuri.

Act II

In Maly Kitezh (Kerzhenets) people are waiting for the arrival of the prince's bride. The little bear and the bear entertain the audience (“Show me, Mikhailushko, show me, you silly one”). Guslyar sings an unexpectedly sad spiritual verse about tours and tourism. Meanwhile, a drunkard, Grishka Kuterma, falls out of the tavern. Local rich people (“the best people”) encourage him to laugh at Fevronia: they don’t like the fact that the prince is marrying a simple girl. The wedding train arrives with Fevronia. Grishka turns to her with envious ridicule, advising her “not to put on airs” and calling her “a bride from the swamp” who is wearing “a fur coat made of mouse tails.” Fevronia asks people not to offend Grishka, has a humble conversation with him and advises him to pray to God so as not to drink and not expose himself to people’s ridicule. In response, the drunkard again showers her with rudeness. The prince's servant, Fyodor Poyarok, tells the girls to sing a wedding song. The wedding ceremony begins. However, the song ends with noise and screams. People come running from afar in panic, they say that enemies have unexpectedly appeared, from whom there is no escape. Almost immediately after them, the Tatars enter the city and begin a bloody massacre. They want to find out the way to Great Kitezh, but people die without telling their enemies. The only one who agrees to reveal the secret is Grishka Kuterma. Only he and Fevronia remain alive, who is taken prisoner for her beauty.

Act III

Scene 1. Kitezh the Great. At midnight, all the people, from old to young, gathered with weapons in their hands outside the fence of the Assumption Cathedral. On the porch are Prince Yuri and Prince Vsevolod, with a squad around them. Everyone surrounded Fyodor Poyark, who stood with his head bowed, hand in hand with the Youth. It turns out that he was blinded by the Tatars. Everyone is shocked by his sad story about the national disaster and the fact that, according to rumors, Princess Fevronia herself is leading the Tatars to Great Kitezh. The people are depressed: “Oh, my heart is troubled, brethren! It wants to be a great disaster." The Prince sends the Youth to the bell tower to see from there “whether God is giving us a sign.” The youth runs into the bell tower and from there reports: “The dust rose in a column to the sky.” This is the Horde army rushing. The youth sees: “It’s as if the city of Kitezh is burning: the flames are burning, sparks are rushing,” - with these and other bloody details he talks about his vision. At the call of old Prince Yuri, the people offer prayers to the Queen of Heaven for their salvation. Prince Vsevolod steps forward. He asks his father to bless him and his squad for a feat of arms and sets out to meet the enemies. The prince loudly sings the warriors’ song “The squad rose from midnight.” Light, with a golden sheen, the fog quietly leaves the dark sky - at first transparent, then thicker and thicker. Anticipating their end, people say goodbye to each other. The church bells began to hum quietly of their own accord, heralding deliverance. Everyone is amazed and delighted that “God the Lord covers Kitezh with a veil” (as Prince Yuri says). Everything is shrouded in golden fog. While the stage is covered by a cloudy curtain (at this time the scenery is changing for the second scene), the symphonic picture “The Battle of Kerzhenets” sounds - an orchestral piece, often included in the programs of symphony concerts. With amazing strength and vividness of images, the composer depicts this unequal battle between the Kitezh people and the hordes of Tatars.

Picture 2. In the oak grove on the shore of Lake Svetly Yar, the darkness is impenetrable. The opposite bank, where Great Kitezh stands, is shrouded in thick fog. The mess with the heroes Bedyai and Burundai, making their way through the thicket of bushes, comes out into a clearing leading to the lake. Gradually the rest of the Tatars converge. Carts of stolen goods are brought in. The Tatars suspect that Kuterma deliberately led them into an impassable thicket. Burundai and Bedyai tie Kuterma to a tree. A cart drives in with Fevronia sitting on it. The Tatars begin to divide the spoils. A dispute flares up between Burundai and Bedyai over who should own Fevronia. In the end, Burunday hits Bedyai on the head with an ax. The poor guy falls dead. There is silence for a moment, then the Tatars calmly continue dividing the spoils. Gradually, the Tatars are overcome by hops, and they fall asleep, each forgetting about his share. Burundai takes Fevronia to his place, lies down on the carpet, makes her sit down and tries to console her, pulls her towards him and hugs her. Soon he too falls asleep. The whole camp is sleeping. Fevronia leaves Burundai. She weeps bitterly about her dead fiancé (“Oh, you are my dear fiancé, hope!”). Fevronia is called out by Grishka Kuterma (he is here, nearby, tied to a tree). Having betrayed his native land to the enemy, he is tormented by remorse. Fevronia recognizes him and comes closer. Grishka begs her to untie him. Fevronia is afraid that she will be executed for this. Grishka admonishes her and himself, in turn, asks her why she should take care of her life, because of the princely people (her current relatives) not even a dozen will be alive. And if they are alive, then God forbid. Why “God forbid?” - Fevronia asks him. And he admits that he said to her that she led the Tatar army to Kitezh. In horror, Fevronia covers her face with her hands: “Grisha, aren’t you the Antichrist?” - she asks. She frees him so that he can atone for the sin of betrayal. He wants to run, but cannot: he hears a bell ringing; “languid fear fills the heart...” He wants to run, but he staggers, falls face down and lies motionless for some time. Then he gets up and with desperate determination rushes to the lake to drown himself. And suddenly he stops at the shore, rooted to the spot: the first rays of dawn illuminate the surface of the lake and the reflection of the capital city in the lake under the empty shore. A festive ringing can be heard, gradually becoming louder and more solemn. Kuterma rushes back to Fevronia, pointing to the lake in insane surprise: “Where the demon was, there are gods now; where God was, there was nothing!” With a wild cry, Kuterma disappears into the thicket of the forest, dragging Fevronia with her. Kuterma's cry woke up the Tatars. They see a vision in the lake. They are amazed: “A miracle, an incomprehensible miracle!” They are attacked by unaccountable fear. Having forgotten about everything, they flee in horror from the terrible place.

ACT IV

Picture 1. dark night . A dense thicket in the Kerzhen forests. An uprooted spruce tree lies across the stage. In the depths there is a clearing and in it a moss-covered swamp. Here Fevronia makes her way in a torn dress; she is followed by the insane Grishka Kuterma. Exhausted, she sits on a tree trunk. Grishka makes crazy speeches: he speaks to her either brazenly and with his arms akimbo, or pitifully, like a beggar. Fevronia meekly reasons with him: “Don’t mock, come to your senses; remember what sin you have committed.” Grishka is tormented by remorse. He either sobs, then pesters Fevronia like a child, then kneels down, looking around in fear, then hastily jumps up, dances madly and whistles. He calms down for a moment. In the end, with a wild cry, he runs away into the dense thicket. Fevronia was left alone. She lies down on the grass. The trees are gradually covered with bright, bizarre-looking emerald green. Fevronia plunges into a blissful state: her fatigue and pain have passed. She sings a lullaby to herself: “Bai, byi, sleep, sleep, sleep, little heart, rest.” Wax candles light up everywhere on tree branches; Huge unprecedented flowers grow on the trees and from the ground: golden kryzhanty, silver and scarlet roses, string, iris and others. The passage to the swamp remains open. Fevronia sings about her admiration for this whole view. The voices of birds of paradise prophesy her peace and happiness. She gets up, goes forward; the branches bow to her. It seems to her that spring has come again: “All the swamps have blossomed, all the trees have become beautiful.” Among the birds, Alkonost’s voice stands out: “Strengthen yourself with hope, with undoubted faith: everything will be forgotten, time will end.” From the depths of the clearing, through a swamp strewn with flowers, as if on dry land, the ghost of Prince Vsevolod slowly walks, illuminated by a golden radiance, barely touching the soil with his feet. Fevronia, again full of strength, rushes to him. The ghost addresses her with a greeting: “Have fun, my bride, have fun! The groom has come for you." The ghost consoles Fevronia. The voice of another bird of paradise, Sirin, is heard: “Behold, the groom has come, why are you delaying?” “Lord Jesus, accept me and place me in the villages of the righteous.” And so the young people, hand in hand, slowly walk away through the swamp, barely touching the ground. The transition to the second picture is another - this time an orchestral-vocal one (here the voices of birds of paradise, Sirin and Alkonost are heard behind the stage) - a sound picture by N.A. Rimsky-Korsakov. It begins immediately after the end of the first picture (as if pouring out of it) and directly passes into the second picture. The composer's remark clarifies (this became the name of this intermission): “Walking into the invisible city.” Against the backdrop of a radiant, majestic procession and joyful chimes, the intricate singing of birds of paradise sounds.

Picture 2. The author’s remark characterizing the invisible hail is as follows: “The cloud is dissipating. The city of Kitezh has been wonderfully transformed. Near the western gate is the Assumption Cathedral and the prince's courtyard. High bell towers, fires on the walls, intricate towers and tumblers made of white stone and pine wood. The carving is decorated with pearls; painting in blue, ash and blue-scarlet colors, with all the transitions that occur on clouds. The light is bright, bluish-white and even on all sides, as if casting no shadow. To the left, opposite the gate, are the prince's mansions; The porch is guarded by a lion and a unicorn with silver fur. Sirin and Alkonost - birds of paradise with unfeminine faces - sing while sitting on the knitting needles. A crowd in white worldly robes with heavenly krins and lit candles in their hands; Among the crowd is Poyarok, the sighted one, and the Youth, who was his guide. This is where Fevronia ended up. The people greet her and the prince. Fevronia does not remember herself from amazement; she walks around the square, looking at everything, and claps her hands in delight. The people surround the prince and Fevronia and sing a wedding song to the sounds of the harp and paradise pipe, throwing flowers, roses and blue killer whales at their feet. Fevronia does not understand to whom the wedding song is being sung, whose wedding it is. Then the prince says to her: “It’s ours, my dear.” Prince Yuri appears on the princely porch. Fevronia greets the prince as her father-in-law's daughter-in-law. A large ensemble sounds, in which all the main characters participate - Prince Yuri, Prince Vsevolod, Fevronia, the birds of paradise Sirin and Alkonost sing with them, Otrok and Poyarok join, and finally the whole choir (“Be with us here forever”). Prince Vsevolod invites Fevronia to church (“Oh, you, faithful bride, it’s time for us to go to the Church of God”). At this moment, Fevronia remembers Grishka: “Grishenka remained there in the forest.” Fevronia wants to send him a letter, “a small consolation for Grisha.” Poyarok is ready to write it. Fevronia dictates; she describes Kitezh, which did not fall, but disappeared, tells him that they did not die, but are alive, and they live in a wondrous city. “Who will enter this city?” - Fevronia asks Prince Yuri. “Anyone who does not have a split mind would prefer to live in the city,” Yuri replies. (The scene of Fevronia’s letter to Kuterma, according to the tradition of the first productions of the opera, is usually released. This goes against the categorical demand of the author, expressed by him regarding the production of the opera: “I cannot agree to omit the scene of the letter to Kuterma in the last film. There were conversations about this in St. Petersburg Fevronia’s letter is the culmination of her entire image. Having achieved bliss, Fevronia remembers and takes care of her fierce enemy and destroyer of Great Kitezh. Let the listeners delve into this, and not treat the last scene of the opera as an apotheosis” (from a letter from Rimsky-Korsakov to the conductor of the first production of the opera in Moscow in 1908, V.I. Suk). Finally, the letter is written, and the young people, accompanied by solemn singing and ringing of bells, slowly and majestically march into the cathedral to the crown.

• The idea for the opera arose from Rimsky-Korsakov while working on the opera “The Tale of Tsar Saltan.”
• Rimsky-Korsakov looked at Kitezh as the culmination of his work, and for some time he thought about allowing the opera to be published and staged only after his death.
• This opera is a rare example of a triple alteration of musical sound (three times sharp). The sign is used around the number 220 in the score.
• During the times of Tsarist Russia, it was strictly forbidden to bring saints onto the stage, and initially the heroine of the opera was supposed to be called Alyonushka, but for Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera an exception was made and the heroine retained the name Fevronia.
• Such characters as the mysterious birds of paradise - Sirin and Alkonost - appear in the opera. They are also depicted in the famous painting by V. M. Vasnetsov “Sirin and Alkonost. Song of Joy and Sorrow" (1896), which probably inspired the authors of the opera to introduce these characters into the plot.

Productions

• February 7, 1907 - Mariinsky Theater (conductor Felix Blumenfeld, director Vasily Shkafer, artists Konstantin Korovin and Vasnetsov; Yuri Vsevolodovich - Ivan Burchardt, Vsevolod - Andrei Labinsky, Fevronia - Maria Kuznetsova-Benois, Grishka Kuterma - Ivan Ershov, Fyodor Poyarok - Vasily Sharonov, Otrok - Maria Markovich, Medvedchik - Grigory Ugrinovich, Bedyai - Ivan Grigorovich, Burundai - Konstantin Serebryakov, Sirin - Nadezhda Zabela-Vrubel, Alkonost - Evgenia Zbrueva, Guslyar - Vladimir Kastorsky);
• 1908 - Bolshoi Theater (conductor Vyacheslav Suk, director Joseph Lapitsky, artists Korovin, Mikhail Klodt, Vasnetsov; Yuri Vsevolodovich - Vasily Petrov, Vsevolod - Nikolai Rostovsky, Fevronia - Nadezhda Salina, Grishka Kuterma - Anton Bonachich, Poyarok - Georgy Baklanov, Otrok - Elizaveta Azerskaya, Burundai - Stepan Trezvinsky);
• 1916 - Bolshoi Theater, revived. (conductor Vyacheslav Suk, director Pyotr Olenin, artists Korovin, Klodt, Vnukov and Petrov).
• November 15, 1918 - Petrograd Opera and Ballet Theater (conductor Coates, director Melnikov, artists Korovin, Ovchinnikov and Vnukov; Yuri Vsevolodovich - Filippov, Vsevolod - Bolshakov, Fevronia - Nikolaeva, Grishka Kuterma - Ershov, Poyarok - Andreev, Medvedchik - Ugrinovich, Bedyai - Belyanin, Burundai - I. Grigorovich, Sirin - Kovalenko, Alkonost - Panina, Guslyar - Grokholsky)
• 1926 - Bolshoi Theater (conductor Suk, post. Rappoport, artists Korovin, Klodt, Vasnetsov; Yuri Vsevolodovich - V. Petrov, Vsevolod - Bogdanovich, Fevronia - Derzhinskaya, Grishka Kuterma - Ozerov, Poyarok - Savransky, Otrok - Antarova, Guslyar - Nortsov , Bedyay - Lubentsov, Sirin - Katulskaya, Alkonost - Petrova);
• 1934 - Bolshoi Theater (conductor Golovanov, director Nardov, artists Korovin and Fedorov, choreographer Avranek; Yuri Vsevolodovich - Mikhailov, Vsevolod - Fedotov, Fevronia - Kruglikova, Grishka Kuterma - Ozerov, Poyarok - I. Burlak (Streltsov)).
• 1955 - in concert performance in Moscow (conductor Samosud) and Leningrad (conductor Grikurov).
• 1958 - Opera and Ballet Theater named after. Kirov (conductor Yeltsin, director Sokovnin, art director Yunovich, choreographer A. Mikhailov).
• 1949 - Latvian Opera and Ballet Theater. SSR (conductor Glazup, post. Vasilyeva, art director Lapin, choreographer Vanag); 1962, ibid.
• 1983 - Bolshoi Theater of the USSR (conductor E. F. Svetlanov, stage director R. I. Tikhomirov, artists I. S. Glazunov and N. A. Vinogradova-Benois, Fevronia - Kazarnovskaya).
• 2001 - Mariinsky Theater (conductor - Valery Gergiev, director and set designer - Dmitry Chernyakov)
• 2008 - Bolshoi Theater (conductor - Alexander Vedernikov, director - Eimuntas Nekrosius, artist - Marius Nekrosius

Abroad:

• Barcelona (1926, January 2, in Russian)
• London (1926, concert performance in Russian, Covent Garden Theater)
• Paris (1926, concert performance in Russian; 1929, in Russian)
• Riga (1926)
• Buenos Aires (1929.in Russian)
• Milan (1933, La Scala)
• Brno (1934)
• Duisburg (1935)
• Zagreb (1935)
• Philadelphia and New York (1936, in Russian)
• Kaunas (1936)
• Berlin (1937)
• Prague (1938)
• Brussels (1939, concert performance in Russian)
• London (1951, concert performance - conductor Dobrowein)
• Milan (1951, conductor La Scala - conductor Dobrowein, dir. Dobrowein)
• Rome (1960) and others.
• 2012 - Netherlands Opera, Amsterdam. director and set designer - Dmitry Chernyakov
• 2014 - Liceu, Barcelona. director and set designer Dmitry Chernyakov

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An excerpt characterizing the Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronia

Before Prince Andrei had time to follow Pfuel with his eyes, Count Bennigsen hurriedly entered the room and, nodding his head to Bolkonsky, without stopping, walked into the office, giving some orders to his adjutant. The Emperor was following him, and Bennigsen hurried forward to prepare something and have time to meet the Emperor. Chernyshev and Prince Andrei went out onto the porch. The Emperor got off his horse with a tired look. Marquis Paulucci said something to the sovereign. The Emperor, bowing his head to the left, listened with a dissatisfied look to Paulucci, who spoke with particular fervor. The Emperor moved forward, apparently wanting to end the conversation, but the flushed, excited Italian, forgetting decency, followed him, continuing to say:
“Quant a celui qui a conseille ce camp, le camp de Drissa, [As for the one who advised the Drissa camp,” said Paulucci, while the sovereign, entering the steps and noticing Prince Andrei, peered into an unfamiliar face .
– Quant a celui. Sire,” continued Paulucci with despair, as if unable to resist, “qui a conseille le camp de Drissa, je ne vois pas d"autre alternative que la maison jaune ou le gibet. [As for, sir, up to that man , who advised the camp at Drisei, then, in my opinion, there are only two places for him: the yellow house or the gallows.] - Without listening to the end and as if not hearing the words of the Italian, the sovereign, recognizing Bolkonsky, graciously turned to him:
“I’m very glad to see you, go to where they gathered and wait for me.” - The Emperor went into the office. Prince Pyotr Mikhailovich Volkonsky, Baron Stein, followed him, and the doors closed behind them. Prince Andrei, using the permission of the sovereign, went with Paulucci, whom he knew back in Turkey, into the living room where the council was meeting.
Prince Pyotr Mikhailovich Volkonsky served as the sovereign's chief of staff. Volkonsky left the office and, bringing cards into the living room and laying them out on the table, conveyed the questions on which he wanted to hear the opinions of the assembled gentlemen. The fact was that during the night news was received (later turned out to be false) about the movement of the French around the Drissa camp.
General Armfeld began to speak first, unexpectedly, in order to avoid the difficulty that had arisen, proposing a completely new, inexplicable position away from the St. Petersburg and Moscow roads, on which, in his opinion, the army had to unite and wait for the enemy. It was clear that this plan had been drawn up by Armfeld long ago and that he now presented it not so much with the aim of answering the proposed questions, which this plan did not answer, but with the aim of taking advantage of the opportunity to express it. This was one of the millions of assumptions that could be made, just as well as others, without having any idea of ​​​​what character the war would take. Some disputed his opinion, some defended it. The young Colonel Toll, more ardently than others, disputed the opinion of the Swedish general and during the argument took out a covered notebook from his side pocket, which he asked permission to read. In a lengthy note, Toll proposed a different campaign plan, completely contrary to both Armfeld’s plan and Pfuel’s plan. Paulucci, objecting to Tol, proposed a plan for moving forward and attacking, which alone, according to him, could lead us out of the unknown and the trap, as he called the Drissky camp, in which we were located. Pfuhl and his translator Wolzogen (his bridge in court relations) remained silent during these disputes. Pfuhl only snorted contemptuously and turned away, showing that he would never stoop to object to the nonsense that he was now hearing. But when Prince Volkonsky, who led the debate, called him to express his opinion, he only said:
- Why ask me? General Armfeld proposed an excellent position with an open rear. Or attack von diesem italienischen Herrn, sehr schon! [this Italian gentleman, very good! (German)] Or retreat. Auch gut. [Also good (German)] Why ask me? - he said. – After all, you yourself know everything better than me. - But when Volkonsky, frowning, said that he was asking his opinion on behalf of the sovereign, Pfuel stood up and, suddenly animated, began to say:
- They ruined everything, confused everything, everyone wanted to know better than me, and now they came to me: how to fix it? Nothing to fix. Everything must be carried out exactly according to the principles I have laid out,” he said, banging his bony fingers on the table. – What is the difficulty? Nonsense, Kinder spiel. [children's toys (German)] - He went up to the map and began to speak quickly, pointing his dry finger at the map and proving that no accident could change the expediency of the Dris camp, that everything was foreseen and that if the enemy really goes around, then the enemy must inevitably be destroyed.
Paulucci, who did not know German, began asking him in French. Wolzogen came to the aid of his principal, who spoke little French, and began to translate his words, barely keeping up with Pfuel, who quickly proved that everything, everything, not only what happened, but everything that could happen, was all foreseen in his plan, and that if there were difficulties now, then the whole fault was only in the fact that everything was not executed exactly. He laughed ironically incessantly, argued, and finally contemptuously abandoned proving, as a mathematician abandons verifying in various ways the correctness of a problem. Wolzogen replaced him, continuing to express his thoughts in French and occasionally saying to Pfuel: “Nicht wahr, Exellenz?” [Isn't that true, Your Excellency? (German)] Pfuhl, like a hot man in battle hitting his own, shouted angrily at Wolzogen:
– Nun ja, was soll denn da noch expliziert werden? [Well, yes, what else is there to interpret? (German)] - Paulucci and Michaud attacked Wolzogen in French in two voices. Armfeld addressed Pfuel in German. Tol explained it in Russian to Prince Volkonsky. Prince Andrei silently listened and observed.
Of all these persons, the embittered, decisive and stupidly self-confident Pfuel most excited the participation of Prince Andrei. He alone, of all the people present here, obviously did not want anything for himself, did not harbor enmity towards anyone, but wanted only one thing - to put into action the plan drawn up according to the theory he had developed over years of work. He was funny, unpleasant in his irony, but at the same time he inspired involuntary respect with his boundless devotion to the idea. In addition, in all the speeches of all the speakers, with the exception of Pfuel, there was one common feature, which was not present at the military council in 1805, was now, although hidden, a panicky fear of the genius of Napoleon, a fear that was expressed in every objection. They assumed everything was possible for Napoleon, they waited for him from all sides and scary name destroyed each other's assumptions. Only Pfuel, it seemed, considered him, Napoleon, to be the same barbarian as all the opponents of his theory. But, in addition to a feeling of respect, Pfuhl instilled in Prince Andrei a feeling of pity. From the tone with which the courtiers treated him, from what Paulucci allowed himself to say to the emperor, but most importantly from the somewhat desperate expression of Pfuel himself, it was clear that others knew and he himself felt that his fall was close. And, despite his self-confidence and German grumpy irony, he was pathetic with his smoothed hair at the temples and tassels sticking out at the back of his head. Apparently, although he hid it under the guise of irritation and contempt, he was in despair because now the only opportunity to test it through vast experience and prove to the whole world the correctness of his theory eluded him.
The debate continued for a long time, and the longer it continued, the more the disputes flared up, reaching the point of shouting and personalities, and the less it was possible to draw any general conclusion from everything that was said. Prince Andrei, listening to this multilingual conversation and these assumptions, plans and refutations and shouts, was only surprised at what they all said. Those thoughts that had long and often occurred to him during his military activities, that there is and cannot be any military science and therefore there cannot be any so-called military genius, now received for him the complete evidence of the truth. “What kind of theory and science could there be in a matter in which the conditions and circumstances are unknown and cannot be determined, in which the strength of the war actors can be even less determined? No one could and cannot know what the position of our and the enemy’s army will be in a day, and no one can know what the strength of this or that detachment will be. Sometimes, when there is no coward in front who will shout: “We are cut off!” - and he runs, and there is a cheerful one, brave man in front, who will shout: “Hurray! - a detachment of five thousand is worth thirty thousand, as at Shepgraben, and sometimes fifty thousand flee before eight, as at Austerlitz. What kind of science can there be in such a matter, in which, as in any practical matter, nothing can be determined and everything depends on countless conditions, the meaning of which is determined in one minute, about which no one knows when it will come. Armfeld says that our army is cut off, and Paulucci says that we have placed the French army between two fires; Michaud says that the disadvantage of the Dris camp is that the river is behind, and Pfuhl says that this is its strength. Toll proposes one plan, Armfeld proposes another; and everyone is good, and everyone is bad, and the benefits of any situation can only be obvious at the moment when the event occurs. And why does everyone say: a military genius? Is the person who manages to order the delivery of crackers in time and go to the right, to the left, a genius? It is only because military men are invested with splendor and power, and the masses of scoundrels flatter the authorities, giving it unusual qualities of genius, that they are called geniuses. On the contrary, the best generals I have known are stupid or absent-minded people. The best Bagration, - Napoleon himself admitted this. And Bonaparte himself! I remember his smug and limited face on the Austerlitz Field. Not only does a good commander not need genius or any special qualities, but, on the contrary, he needs the absence of the best highest, human qualities - love, poetry, tenderness, philosophical inquisitive doubt. He must be limited, firmly convinced that what he is doing is very important (otherwise he will lack patience), and only then will he be a brave commander. God forbid, if he is a person, he will love someone, feel sorry for him, think about what is fair and what is not. It is clear that from time immemorial the theory of geniuses was falsified for them, because they are the authorities. The credit for the success of military affairs does not depend on them, but on the person in the ranks who shouts: lost, or shouts: hurray! And only in these ranks can you serve with confidence that you are useful!“
So Prince Andrey thought, listening to the talk, and woke up only when Paulucci called him and everyone was already leaving.
The next day, at the review, the sovereign asked Prince Andrei where he wanted to serve, and Prince Andrei lost himself forever in the court world, not asking to remain with the sovereign’s person, but asking permission to serve in the army.

Before the opening of the campaign, Rostov received a letter from his parents, in which, briefly informing him about Natasha’s illness and about the break with Prince Andrei (this break was explained to him by Natasha’s refusal), they again asked him to resign and come home. Nikolai, having received this letter, did not try to ask for leave or resignation, but wrote to his parents that he was very sorry about Natasha’s illness and breakup with her fiancé and that he would do everything possible to fulfill their wishes. He wrote to Sonya separately.
“Dear friend of my soul,” he wrote. “Nothing but honor could keep me from returning to the village.” But now, before the opening of the campaign, I would consider myself dishonest not only to all my comrades, but also to myself, if I preferred my happiness to my duty and love for the fatherland. But this is the last parting. Believe that immediately after the war, if I am alive and everyone loves you, I will drop everything and fly to you to press you forever to my fiery chest.”
Indeed, only the opening of the campaign delayed Rostov and prevented him from coming - as he promised - and marrying Sonya. Otradnensky autumn with hunting and winter with Christmastide and Sonya's love opened to him the prospect of quiet noble joys and tranquility, which he had not known before and which now beckoned him to themselves. “A nice wife, children, a good pack of hounds, dashing ten to twelve packs of greyhounds, a household, neighbors, election service! - he thought. But now there was a campaign, and it was necessary to remain in the regiment. And since this was necessary, Nikolai Rostov, by his nature, was satisfied with the life that he led in the regiment, and managed to make this life pleasant for himself.
Arriving from vacation, joyfully greeted by his comrades, Nikolai was sent for repairs and brought excellent horses from Little Russia, which delighted him and earned him praise from his superiors. In his absence, he was promoted to captain, and when the regiment was put under martial law with an increased complement, he again received his former squadron.
The campaign began, the regiment was moved to Poland, double pay was given, new officers, new people, horses arrived; and, most importantly, that excitedly cheerful mood that accompanies the outbreak of war spread; and Rostov, aware of his advantageous position in the regiment, completely devoted himself to the pleasures and interests of military service, although he knew that sooner or later he would have to leave them.
The troops retreated from Vilna for various complex state, political and tactical reasons. Each step of retreat was accompanied by a complex interplay of interests, conclusions and passions in the main headquarters. For the hussars of the Pavlograd regiment, this entire retreat campaign, in the best part of summer, with sufficient food, was the simplest and most fun thing. They could become despondent, worry and intrigue in the main apartment, but in the deep army they did not ask themselves where and why they were going. If they regretted retreating, it was only because they had to leave a comfortable apartment, a pretty lady. If it occurred to someone that things were bad, then, as a good military man should, the one to whom it occurred to him tried to be cheerful and not think about the general course of affairs, but think about his immediate business. At first they cheerfully stood near Vilna, making acquaintances with Polish landowners and waiting and serving inspections of the sovereign and other senior commanders. Then the order came to retreat to the Sventsyans and destroy the provisions that could not be taken away. Sventsyany was remembered by the hussars only because it was a drunken camp, as the whole army called the Sventsyany camp, and because in Sventsyany there were many complaints against the troops because, taking advantage of the order to take away provisions, they also took horses among the provisions, and carriages and carpets from the Polish gentlemen. Rostov remembered Sventsyany because on the first day of entering this place he replaced the sergeant and could not cope with all the men of the squadron who had drunk too much, who, without his knowledge, took away five barrels of old beer. From Sventsyan they retreated further and further to Drissa, and again retreated from Drissa, already approaching the Russian borders.
On July 13, the residents of Pavlograd had to deal with serious business for the first time.
On the night of July 12, the night before the case, there was a strong storm with rain and thunderstorms. The summer of 1812 was generally remarkable for storms.
The two Pavlograd squadrons stood in bivouacs, among a rye field that had already been knocked out to the ground by cattle and horses. The rain was pouring down, and Rostov, with the young officer Ilyin, whom he protected, sat under the fenced-in a quick fix hut. An officer of their regiment, with a long mustache extending from his cheeks, was on his way to headquarters and, caught in the rain, came to Rostov.
- I, Count, am from headquarters. Have you heard of Raevsky's feat? - And the officer told the details of the Saltanovsky battle, which he heard at headquarters.
Rostov, shaking his neck, behind which water was flowing, smoked his pipe and listened inattentively, occasionally glancing at the young officer Ilyin, who was huddling next to him. This officer, a sixteen-year-old boy who had recently joined the regiment, was now in relation to Nikolai what Nikolai was in relation to Denisov seven years ago. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in everything and, like a woman, was in love with him.
An officer with a double mustache, Zdrzhinsky, spoke pompously about how the Saltanov Dam was the Thermopylae of the Russians, how on this dam General Raevsky committed an act worthy of antiquity. Zdrzhinsky told the story of Raevsky, who led his two sons to the dam under terrible fire and went on the attack next to them. Rostov listened to the story and not only did not say anything to confirm Zdrzhinsky’s delight, but, on the contrary, had the appearance of a man who was ashamed of what was being told to him, although he did not intend to object. Rostov, after the Austerlitz and 1807 campaigns, knew from his own experience that when telling military incidents, people always lie, just as he himself lied when telling them; secondly, he was so experienced that he knew how everything happens in war, not at all the way we can imagine and tell. And therefore he did not like Zdrzhinsky’s story, and he did not like Zdrzhinsky himself, who, with his mustache from his cheeks, according to his habit, bent low over the face of the one to whom he was telling, and crowded him into a cramped hut. Rostov looked at him silently. “Firstly, at the dam that was attacked, there must have been such confusion and crowding that even if Raevsky brought his sons out, it could not have affected anyone except about ten people who were near him, - thought Rostov, - the rest could not see how and with whom Raevsky walked along the dam. But even those who saw this could not be very inspired, because what did they care about Raevsky’s tender parental feelings when it was about their own skin? Then, the fate of the fatherland did not depend on whether the Saltanov Dam was taken or not, as they describe it to us about Thermopylae. And therefore, why was it necessary to make such a sacrifice? And then, why bother your children here, during the war? Not only would I not take Petya with my brother, I would not even take Ilyin, even this stranger to me, but a good boy, I would try to put him somewhere under protection,” Rostov continued to think, listening to Zdrzhinsky. But he did not say his thoughts: he already had experience in this. He knew that this story contributed to the glorification of our weapons, and therefore he had to pretend that he did not doubt it. That's what he did.
“However, there is no urine,” said Ilyin, who noticed that Rostov did not like Zdrzhinsky’s conversation. - And the stockings, and the shirt, and it leaked under me. I'll go look for shelter. The rain seems to be lighter. – Ilyin came out, and Zdrzhinsky left.
Five minutes later, Ilyin, splashing through the mud, ran to the hut.
- Hooray! Rostov, let's go quickly. Found it! There’s a tavern about two hundred paces away, and our guys got there. At least we’ll dry off, and Marya Genrikhovna will be there.
Marya Genrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a young, pretty German woman, whom the doctor married in Poland. The doctor, either because he did not have the means, or because he did not want to be separated from his young wife at first during his marriage, took her everywhere with him in the hussar regiment, and the doctor’s jealousy became an ordinary object jokes between hussar officers.
Rostov threw on his raincoat, called Lavrushka with his things behind him and went with Ilyin, sometimes rolling in the mud, sometimes splashing in the subsiding rain, in the darkness of the evening, occasionally broken by distant lightning.
- Rostov, where are you?
- Here. What lightning! - they were talking.

In the abandoned tavern, in front of which stood the doctor’s tent, there were already about five officers. Marya Genrikhovna, a plump, fair-haired German woman in a blouse and nightcap, was sitting in the front corner on a wide bench. Her husband, a doctor, was sleeping behind her. Rostov and Ilyin, greeted with cheerful exclamations and laughter, entered the room.
- AND! “What fun you are having,” Rostov said, laughing.
- Why are you yawning?
- Good! That's how it flows from them! Don't wet our living room.
“You can’t dirty Marya Genrikhovna’s dress,” answered the voices.
Rostov and Ilyin hurried to find a corner where they could change their wet dress without disturbing Marya Genrikhovna’s modesty. They went behind the partition to change clothes; but in a small closet, filling it completely, with one candle on an empty box, three officers were sitting, playing cards, and did not want to give up their place for anything. Marya Genrikhovna gave up her skirt for a while to use it instead of a curtain, and behind this curtain Rostov and Ilyin, with the help of Lavrushka, who brought packs, took off the wet dress and put on a dry dress.
A fire was lit in the broken stove. They took out a board and, having fixed it on two saddles, covered it with a blanket, took out a samovar, a cellar and half a bottle of rum, and, asking Marya Genrikhovna to be the hostess, everyone crowded around her. Some offered her a clean handkerchief to wipe her lovely hands, some put a Hungarian coat under her feet so that it wouldn’t be damp, some curtained the window with a cloak so that it wouldn’t blow, some brushed the flies off her husband’s face so he wouldn’t wake up.
“Leave him alone,” said Marya Genrikhovna, smiling timidly and happily, “he’s already sleeping well after a sleepless night.”
“You can’t, Marya Genrikhovna,” the officer answered, “you have to serve the doctor.” That’s it, maybe he’ll feel sorry for me when he starts cutting my leg or arm.
There were only three glasses; the water was so dirty that it was impossible to decide whether the tea was strong or weak, and in the samovar there was only enough water for six glasses, but it was all the more pleasant, in turn and by seniority, to receive your glass from Marya Genrikhovna’s plump hands with short, not entirely clean, nails . All the officers seemed to really be in love with Marya Genrikhovna that evening. Even those officers who were playing cards behind the partition soon abandoned the game and moved on to the samovar, obeying the general mood of courting Marya Genrikhovna. Marya Genrikhovna, seeing herself surrounded by such brilliant and courteous youth, beamed with happiness, no matter how hard she tried to hide it and no matter how obviously shy she was at every sleepy movement of her husband, who was sleeping behind her.
There was only one spoon, there was most of the sugar, but there was no time to stir it, and therefore it was decided that she would stir the sugar for everyone in turn. Rostov, having received his glass and poured rum into it, asked Marya Genrikhovna to stir it.
- But you don’t have sugar? - she said, all smiling, as if everything that she said, and everything that others said, was very funny and had another meaning.
- Yes, I don’t need sugar, I just want you to stir it with your pen.
Marya Genrikhovna agreed and began to look for a spoon, which someone had already grabbed.
“You finger, Marya Genrikhovna,” said Rostov, “it will be even more pleasant.”
- It's hot! - said Marya Genrikhovna, blushing with pleasure.
Ilyin took a bucket of water and, dripping some rum into it, came to Marya Genrikhovna, asking him to stir it with his finger.
“This is my cup,” he said. - Just put your finger in, I’ll drink it all.
When the samovar had been drunk, Rostov took the cards and offered to play kings with Marya Genrikhovna. They cast lots to decide who would be Marya Genrikhovna's party. The rules of the game, according to Rostov’s proposal, were that the one who would be king would have the right to kiss Marya Genrikhovna’s hand, and that the one who would remain a scoundrel would go and put a new samovar for the doctor when he woke up.
- Well, what if Marya Genrikhovna becomes king? – Ilyin asked.
- She’s already a queen! And her orders are law.
The game had just begun when the doctor’s confused head suddenly rose from behind Marya Genrikhovna. He had not slept for a long time and listened to what was said, and, apparently, did not find anything cheerful, funny or amusing in everything that was said and done. His face was sad and despondent. He did not greet the officers, scratched himself and asked permission to leave, as his way was blocked. As soon as he came out, all the officers burst into loud laughter, and Marya Genrikhovna blushed to tears and thereby became even more attractive in the eyes of all the officers. Returning from the yard, the doctor told his wife (who had stopped smiling so happily and was looking at him, fearfully awaiting the verdict) that the rain had passed and that she had to go spend the night in the tent, otherwise everything would be stolen.
- Yes, I’ll send a messenger... two! - said Rostov. - Come on, doctor.
– I’ll watch the clock myself! - said Ilyin.
“No, gentlemen, you slept well, but I didn’t sleep for two nights,” said the doctor and gloomily sat down next to his wife, waiting for the end of the game.
Looking at the gloomy face of the doctor, looking sideways at his wife, the officers became even more cheerful, and many could not help laughing, for which they hastily tried to find plausible excuses. When the doctor left, taking his wife away, and settled into the tent with her, the officers lay down in the tavern, covered with wet overcoats; but they didn’t sleep for a long time, either talking, remembering the doctor’s fright and the doctor’s amusement, or running out onto the porch and reporting what was happening in the tent. Several times Rostov, turning over his head, wanted to fall asleep; but again someone’s remark entertained him, again a conversation began, and again causeless, cheerful, childish laughter was heard.

At three o'clock no one had yet fallen asleep when the sergeant appeared with the order to march to the town of Ostrovne.
With the same chatter and laughter, the officers hastily began to get ready; again they put the samovar on dirty water. But Rostov, without waiting for tea, went to the squadron. It was already dawn; the rain stopped, the clouds dispersed. It was damp and cold, especially in a wet dress. Coming out of the tavern, Rostov and Ilyin, both in the twilight of dawn, looked into the doctor’s leather tent, shiny from the rain, from under the apron of which the doctor’s legs stuck out and in the middle of which the doctor’s cap was visible on the pillow and sleepy breathing could be heard.
- Really, she’s very nice! - Rostov said to Ilyin, who was leaving with him.
- What a beauty this woman is! – Ilyin answered with sixteen-year-old seriousness.
Half an hour later the lined up squadron stood on the road. The command was heard: “Sit down! – the soldiers crossed themselves and began to sit down. Rostov, riding forward, commanded: “March! - and, stretching out in four people, the hussars, sounding the slap of hooves on the wet road, the clanking of sabers and quiet talking, set off along the large road lined with birches, following the infantry and battery walking ahead.
Torn blue-purple clouds, turning red at sunrise, were quickly driven by the wind. It became lighter and lighter. The curly grass that always grows along country roads was clearly visible, still wet from yesterday’s rain; The hanging branches of the birches, also wet, swayed in the wind and dropped light drops to their sides. The faces of the soldiers became clearer and clearer. Rostov rode with Ilyin, who did not lag behind him, on the side of the road, between a double row of birch trees.
During the campaign, Rostov took the liberty of riding not on a front-line horse, but on a Cossack horse. Both an expert and a hunter, he recently got himself a dashing Don, a large and kind game horse, on which no one had jumped him. Riding this horse was a pleasure for Rostov. He thought about the horse, about the morning, about the doctor, and never thought about the upcoming danger.
Before, Rostov, going into business, was afraid; Now he did not feel the slightest sense of fear. It was not because he was not afraid that he was accustomed to fire (you cannot get used to danger), but because he had learned to control his soul in the face of danger. He was accustomed, when going into business, to think about everything, except for what seemed to be more interesting than anything else - about the upcoming danger. No matter how hard he tried or reproached himself for cowardice during the first period of his service, he could not achieve this; but over the years it has now become natural. He now rode next to Ilyin between the birches, occasionally tearing leaves from branches that came to hand, sometimes touching the horse’s groin with his foot, sometimes, without turning around, giving his finished pipe to the hussar riding behind, with such a calm and carefree look, as if he was riding ride. He felt sorry to look at Ilyin’s agitated face, who spoke a lot and restlessly; he knew from experience the painful state of waiting for fear and death in which the cornet was, and knew that nothing except time would help him.
The sun had just appeared on a clear streak from under the clouds when the wind died down, as if it did not dare spoil this lovely summer morning after the thunderstorm; the drops were still falling, but vertically, and everything became quiet. The sun came out completely, appeared on the horizon and disappeared into a narrow and long cloud standing above it. A few minutes later the sun appeared even brighter on the upper edge of the cloud, breaking its edges. Everything lit up and sparkled. And along with this light, as if answering it, gun shots were heard ahead.
Before Rostov had time to think about and determine how far these shots were, the adjutant of Count Osterman Tolstoy galloped up from Vitebsk with orders to trot along the road.
The squadron drove around the infantry and the battery, who were also in a hurry to go faster, went down the mountain and, passing through some empty village without inhabitants, climbed the mountain again. The horses began to lather, the people became flushed.
- Stop, be equal! – the division commander’s command was heard ahead.
– Left shoulder forward, step march! - they commanded from the front.
And the hussars along the line of troops went to the left flank of the position and stood behind our lancers who were in the first line. On the right stood our infantry in a thick column - these were reserves; above it on the mountain, our guns were visible in the clear, clean air, in the morning, oblique and bright light, right on the horizon. Ahead, behind the ravine, enemy columns and cannons were visible. In the ravine we could hear our chain, already engaged and cheerfully clicking with the enemy.

Opera in four acts by Nikolai Andreevich Rimsky-Korsakov to a libretto by V.I. Belsky.

Characters:

PRINCE YURI VSEVOLODOVICH (bass)
KNYAZHICH VSEVOLOD YURIEVICH (tenor)
FEVRONIYA (soprano)
GRISHKA KUTERMA (tenor)
FEDOR POYAROK (baritone)
YOUTH (mezzo-soprano)
TWO BEST PEOPLE
nbsp; 1st
nbsp; 2nd (bass)
GUSLYAR (bass)
BEAR (tenor)
BEGGAR SINGER (baritone)
Tatar heroes:
nbsp; BEDIAY (bass)
nbsp; CHURUNDAY (bass)
birds of paradise:
nbsp; SIRIN (soprano)
nbsp; ALKONOST (contralto)
PRINCE SAGITTARIANS, TRAVELERS, DOMRISTS,
THE BEST PEOPLE, THE POOR BROTHERHOOD, THE PEOPLE, THE TATARS.

Time period: 6751 years from the creation of the world.
Location: Kerzhensky forests, Small Kitezh on the Volga, Great Kitezh, Lake Svetly Yar, Invisible City.
First performance: St. Petersburg, Mariinsky Theater, February 7 (20), 1907.

“The Tale” is the fourteenth (penultimate) opera by N.A. Rimsky-Korsakov. It was created in 1903-1905. However, the idea of ​​writing an opera on this plot came to the composer long before that. As always, the memoirs of Rimsky-Korsakov himself are extremely interesting (his most valuable “Chronicle of My Musical Life”): “During the winter (1898/99) I often saw V.I. Belsky, and together we developed Pushkin’s opera plot "The Tale of Tsar Saltan." We were also interested in the legend of the “Invisible City of Kitezh” in connection with the legend of St. Fevronia of Murom." Thus, already at the very inception of the concept of the opera, its plot in the composer’s mind firmly connected two completely different legends: one about Kitezh, the other about St. Princess Fevronia of Murom. The last legend is part of the Lives of the Saints, written by Demetrius of Rostov (the memory of the holy faithful Prince Peter and Princess Fevronia (monastically Aavida and Euphrosyne) is celebrated by the Russian Orthodox Church on June 25). In the opera, Fevronia's line is developed somewhat differently than in her life as a saint. According to the opera libretto, based more on the famous folk legend than in the life of Demetrius of Rostov, Fevronia was by origin a simple villager, the sister of a tree frog (his name is not given; according to popular legend, she was the daughter of a “tree frog beekeeper” from the village of Laskovoy, Ryazan province). Fevronia, according to her life, was married to Prince Peter, the second son of the Myromsky prince Yuri Vladimirovich (in the opera this prince is called Yuri Vsevolodovich, and the prince - Vsevolod Yuryevich). For the libretto, the “Kitezh Chronicler” in different editions, the story of Fevronia of Murom, chronicles and stories about the Tatar invasion, “The Word” of Serapion, Bishop of Vladimir, the story of Juliania Lazarevskaya, the story of Mount-Misfortune, historical, lyrical, ritual (wedding) were used ) songs, epics, spiritual poems. As a result, in the entire work - this is stated by the author of the libretto - “there is not a single little thing that would not in one way or another be inspired by a feature of some legend, poem, plot or other fruit of Russian folk art.”

The premiere of the opera at the St. Petersburg Mariinsky Theater was conducted by F. M. Blumenfeld. The director was V.P. Shkafer. The scenery was created according to the sketches of the wonderful Russian artists K.A. Korovin and A.M. Vasnetsov. The costumes are made according to the drawings of K.A. Korovin.

INTRODUCTION
PRAISE FOR THE DESERT

The orchestral overture, which opens the opera, paints a picture of the forest with its rustling leaves and birdsong (the desert here is, according to the old usage, an uninhabited area). The melody floating above this rustling is the theme of the maiden Fevronia.

ACT I

The wilderness of the Trans-Volga forests near Maly Kitezh. Here is Fevronia’s little hut. There are oaks, elms, and pines around. There is a spring at a distance. The birds are singing, the cuckoo is calling. Midsummer. It's late in the evening. Fevronia knits bunches of grass and hangs them in the sun. She is dressed, as stated in the author's remark, in a simple summer jacket, her hair is down. Her song “Oh, you are a forest, my forest, a beautiful desert” is full of spiritual purity and serene calm. Fevronia scatters food for birds and animals. Birds flock to her song - forest and swamp birds, a bear comes running, which she feeds with bread; he caresses her. An elk's head pokes out of the bushes. The bear lies down at her feet; There are also cranes and other birds here. Fevronia examines the wound on the elk's neck. Unnoticed by Fevronia, Prince Vsevolod Yuryevich appears from the bushes; he was dumbfounded with amazement when he saw this picture. The animals get scared and run away. Fevronia notices the prince. He is unfamiliar to her, and she is at a loss as to who he is: “Hunter, a little closer; his white face looks like a king’s son.” She warmly addresses the stranger and invites him to taste the honey. Knyazhich refuses - he needs to hurry, because it’s already getting dark. Fevronia offers to show him the way. Knyazhich, it turns out, is wounded - he fought with a bear. Fevronia washes his wound with rainwater and bandages it. The prince asks Fevronia who she is, who she lives with (it turns out, with her brother, who is now missing - he is somewhere in the forests). “Do you go to God’s church to pray?” - Vsevolod Yurievich asks Fevronia. It’s a long way for her to go to church, but isn’t God everywhere? She sings about the beauty of nature, about the happiness of living under the majestic arches of forests, enjoying the radiance of the sun, the aroma of flowers, and the sparkle of the blue sky. The prince is delighted with her. Their conversation turns into a love duet, warm and intimate. The prince puts a ring on Fevronia’s finger - now they are the bride and groom.

A horn is heard in the forest. At its sound, the prince blows his horn. The prince says goodbye to Fevronia and leaves, promising her that he will soon send matchmakers to her. Unexpectedly, the prince returns. Fevronia is confused: her soul yearns for her lover, but “I’m sorry for the silent chambers of the forest, I’m sorry for my animals, I’m sorry for my quiet thoughts,” she says. The prince assures her that in the royal city she will not regret the desert (that is, her past solitary life). The hunting horns sound again, the prince leaves. The archers appear, led by Fyodor Poyark. They are looking for their comrade. It is from them that Fevronia learns that the unfamiliar young man to whom she has just become engaged is Prince Vsevolod, the son of the old Prince Yuri, who rules in Great Kitezh.

ACT II

Maly Kitezh on the left bank of the Volga. Square with shopping arcades. There's a visiting yard right there. There are crowds of people everywhere waiting for the wedding train. The poor brethren (men and women) huddle to the side. Near the visiting yard, a bear plays the pipe and shows a learned bear. He was surrounded by men, women and small children. On the orders of the bear, the bear first shows “how the bell ringer Pakhomushka slowly trudges to church” (the bear waddles, leaning on a crutch), then he demonstrates “how the bell ringer Pakhomushka runs away, hurries, down from the bell tower, quickly to his home” ( the bear runs briskly in small steps). Everyone is laughing.

The guslar appears, a tall old man as white as a harrier, and plucks the strings, about to play. He starts a mournful epic (“Golden-horned aurochs came running from behind the deep lake Yara”) - a prophecy about a coming disaster. (N.A. Rimsky-Korsakov in this case departs from his traditional method of imitating the sound of the gusli, borrowed from Glinka, using a harp and piano (more precisely, a piano), as he did in “Sadko” and “The Snow Maiden”; here the guslar sings to the accompaniment of one harp.) The guslar's verses alternate with exclamations of the people.

Once again the bear and his animal are in the spotlight. People amuse themselves by watching the bear either play the pipe or gallop like a goat. The “best” people appear (princely rich people). They are unhappy that a simple peasant woman will become a princess. Seeing the drunken Grishka Kuterma, they call him to them and give him money so that he can “welcome the bride more cheerfully and honor her according to her deeds,” that is, humiliate her.

You can hear bells and domra playing. The people quiet down and listen; some peer into the distance. The ringing of bells is gradually approaching. Finally, three carts, drawn by threes and decorated with ribbons, enter. In the first there are guslars and domrists, in the second there are matchmakers, next to them a friend is riding - Fyodor Poyarok, in the third Fevronia and her brother. They are accompanied by a retinue. The people rush towards them and block their way with scarlet and red ribbons. Everyone joyfully greets the bride. Guslyars and domra players are playing. Ancient wedding rituals are performed: Poyarok and his people distribute and throw gingerbread cookies, ribbons and money into the crowd. People are crowding. The already pretty tipsy Kuterma wants to squeeze forward; the men push him away. Fevronia, seeing that Kuterma is not allowed in and is rudely called a dog, asks: “Why are you persecuting him?” She stands up for him. The mess approaches and bows. He does all this mockingly and addresses Fevronia very brazenly, telling her not to put on airs, because she is of the same breed as him. Fevronia humbly and sincerely answers him and bows low to the people. The mess continues its unceremonious speech. “Pray, Grisha, to the Lord,” Fevronia exhorts him. Grishka shouts at her in anger, predicting poverty and humiliation. The people are outraged by his speeches. Grishka is pushed out of the square. The general embarrassment is interrupted by Poyarok: he calls on the guslar players to play and the girls to start a song. The wedding majestic song “Like crossing bridges on viburnum trees” sounds.

The song is interrupted by the distant sounds of horns. The wedding train is leaving. Norod, seeing him off, follows him. The sounds of the horns are repeated. The people are alarmed and listening. General confusion begins. A frightened crowd of men and women runs in, followed by another, even more frightened crowd. The orchestra sounds a mournful chant of the song “About the Tatar Full.” A third crowd runs in in complete despair: “Oh, trouble, trouble is coming, people, for the sake of our grave sins!”

Tatars are shown in colorful clothes. The people run away in horror and hide wherever possible. The crowd of Tatars with crooked swords and polearms is growing. The Tatars chase and, finding the frightened inhabitants, kill them. Several Tatars grab Fevronia and drag her along. The Tatar heroes Bedyai and Burundai ride in on horses. They dismount and exchange in short phrases about the beauty of Fevronia and that, despite all the torture, the Russians do not show them the way to Great Kitezh. With wild screams, the Tatars are dragging Grishka Kuterma, distraught with fear: of all the inhabitants of Small Kitezh, only he and Fevronia survived. Fevronia encourages Grishka: “Oh, hold on tight, Grishenka.” But Grishka is unable to bear the torment and gives up: “I will lead you, fierce enemies, even though I may be cursed for a century, and my eternal memory will go along with Judas.” The Tatars laugh joyfully. Bedyai and Burundai get on their horses and ride off. Everyone is gradually leaving. The last to remain are Fevronia and the guards. Some of the guards are equipping a cart to put Fevronia on it. She prays to the Lord: “God, create invisible Kitezh city, and also the righteous living in that city.”

ACT III

Picture 1. Kitezh the Great. At midnight, all the people, from old to young, gathered with weapons in their hands outside the fence of the Assumption Cathedral. On the porch are Prince Yuri and Prince Vsevolod, with a squad around them. Everyone surrounded Fyodor Poyark, who stood with his head bowed, hand in hand with the Youth. It turns out that he was blinded by the Tatars. Everyone is shocked by his sad story about the national disaster and the fact that, according to rumors, Princess Fevronia herself is leading the Tatars to Great Kitezh. The people are depressed: “Oh, my heart is troubled, brethren! It wants to be a great disaster." The Prince sends the Youth to the bell tower to see from there “whether God is giving us a sign.” The youth runs into the bell tower and from there reports: “The dust rose in a column to the sky.” This is the Horde army rushing. The youth sees: “It’s as if the city of Kitezh is burning: the flames are burning, sparks are rushing,” - with these and other bloody details he talks about his vision. At the call of old Prince Yuri, the people offer prayers to the Queen of Heaven for their salvation. Prince Vsevolod steps forward. He asks his father to bless him and his squad for a feat of arms and sets out to meet the enemies. The prince loudly sings the warriors’ song “The squad rose from midnight.”

Light, with a golden sheen, the fog quietly leaves the dark sky - at first transparent, then thicker and thicker. Anticipating their end, people say goodbye to each other. The church bells began to hum quietly of their own accord, heralding deliverance. Everyone is amazed and delighted that “God the Lord covers Kitezh with a veil” (as Prince Yuri says). Everything is shrouded in golden fog. While the stage is covered by a cloudy curtain (at this time the scenery is changing for the second scene), the symphonic picture “The Battle of Kerzhenets” sounds - an orchestral piece, often included in the programs of symphony concerts. This is an outstanding example of Russian program music. With amazing strength and vividness of images, the composer depicts this unequal battle between the Kitezh people and the hordes of Tatars. This musical scene is undoubtedly the dramatic center of the opera. The composer composed it because it was impossible to create a large historical canvas - a picture of a battle - under stage conditions. Music, thanks to the unsurpassed skill of Rimsky-Korsakov, who by that time had already created symphonic poems within his operas (remember, for example, “The Blue Ocean-Sea” in “Sadko”) conveys with extraordinary power the entire tragedy of the situation.

Picture 2. In the oak grove on the shore of Lake Svetly Yar, the darkness is impenetrable. The opposite bank, where Great Kitezh stands, is shrouded in thick fog. The mess with the heroes Bedyai and Burundai, making their way through the thicket of bushes, comes out into a clearing leading to the lake. Gradually the rest of the Tatars converge. Carts of stolen goods are brought in. The Tatars suspect that Kuterma deliberately led them into an impassable thicket. Burundai and Bedyai tie Kuterma to a tree. A cart drives in with Fevronia sitting on it. The Tatars begin to divide the spoils. A dispute flares up between Burundai and Bedyai over who should own Fevronia. In the end, Burunday hits Bedyai on the head with an ax. The poor guy falls dead. There is silence for a moment, then the Tatars calmly continue dividing the spoils. Gradually, the Tatars are overcome by hops, and they fall asleep, each forgetting about his share. Burundai takes Fevronia to his place, lies down on the carpet, makes her sit down and tries to console her, pulls her towards him and hugs her. Soon he too falls asleep. The whole camp is sleeping. Fevronia leaves Burundai. She weeps bitterly about her dead fiancé (“Oh, you are my dear fiancé, hope!”). Fevronia is called out by Grishka Kuterma (he is here, nearby, tied to a tree). Having betrayed his native land to the enemy, he is tormented by remorse. Fevronia recognizes him and comes closer. Grishka begs her to untie him. Fevronia is afraid that she will be executed for this. Grishka admonishes her and himself, in turn, asks her why she should take care of her life, because of the princely people (her current relatives) not even a dozen will be alive. And if they are alive, then God forbid. Why “God forbid?” - Fevronia asks him. And he admits that he said to her that she led the Tatar army to Kitezh. In horror, Fevronia covers her face with her hands: “Grisha, aren’t you the Antichrist?” - she asks. She frees him so that he can atone for the sin of betrayal. He wants to run, but cannot: he hears a bell ringing; “languid fear fills the heart...” He wants to run, but he staggers, falls face down and lies motionless for some time. Then he gets up and with desperate determination rushes to the lake to drown himself. And suddenly he stops at the shore, rooted to the spot: the first rays of dawn illuminate the surface of the lake and the reflection of the capital city in the lake under the empty shore. A festive ringing can be heard, gradually becoming louder and more solemn. Kuterma rushes back to Fevronia, pointing to the lake in insane surprise: “Where the demon was, there are gods now; where God was, there was nothing!” With a wild cry, Kuterma disappears into the thicket of the forest, dragging Fevronia with her.

Kuterma's cry woke up the Tatars. They see a vision in the lake. They are amazed: “A miracle, an incomprehensible miracle!” They are attacked by unaccountable fear. Having forgotten about everything, they flee in horror from the terrible place.

ACT IV

Picture 1. Dark night. A dense thicket in the Kerzhen forests. An uprooted spruce tree lies across the stage. In the depths there is a clearing and in it a moss-covered swamp. Here Fevronia makes her way in a torn dress; she is followed by the insane Grishka Kuterma. Exhausted, she sits on a tree trunk. Grishka makes crazy speeches: he speaks to her either brazenly and with his arms akimbo, or pitifully, like a beggar. Fevronia meekly reasons with him: “Don’t mock, come to your senses; remember what sin you have committed.” Grishka is tormented by remorse. He either sobs, then pesters Fevronia like a child, then kneels down, looking around in fear, then hastily jumps up, dances madly and whistles. He calms down for a moment. In the end, with a wild cry, he runs away into the dense thicket.

Fevronia was left alone. She lies down on the grass. The trees are gradually covered with bright, bizarre-looking emerald green. Fevronia plunges into a blissful state: her fatigue and pain have passed. She sings a lullaby to herself: “Bai, byi, sleep, sleep, sleep, little heart, rest.” Wax candles light up everywhere on tree branches; Huge unprecedented flowers grow on the trees and from the ground: golden kryzhanty, silver and scarlet roses, string, iris and others. The passage to the swamp remains open. Fevronia sings about her admiration for this whole view. The voices of birds of paradise prophesy her peace and happiness. She gets up, goes forward; the branches bow to her. It seems to her that spring has come again: “All the swamps have blossomed, all the trees have become beautiful.” Among the birds, Alkonost’s voice stands out: “Strengthen yourself with hope, with undoubted faith: everything will be forgotten, time will end.” From the depths of the clearing, through a swamp strewn with flowers, as if on dry land, the ghost of Prince Vsevolod slowly walks, illuminated by a golden radiance, barely touching the soil with his feet. Fevronia, again full of strength, rushes to him. The ghost addresses her with a greeting: “Have fun, my bride, have fun! The groom has come for you." The ghost consoles Fevronia. The voice of another bird of paradise, Sirin, is heard: “Behold, the groom has come, why are you delaying?” “Lord Jesus, accept me and place me in the villages of the righteous.” And so the young people, hand in hand, slowly walk away through the swamp, barely touching the ground.

The transition to the second picture is another - this time an orchestral-vocal one (here the voices of birds of paradise, Sirin and Alkonost are heard behind the stage) - a sound picture by N.A. Rimsky-Korsakov. It begins immediately after the end of the first picture (as if pouring out of it) and directly passes into the second picture. The composer's remark clarifies (this became the name of this intermission): “Walking into the invisible city.” Against the backdrop of a radiant, majestic procession and joyful chimes, the intricate singing of birds of paradise sounds.

Picture 2. The author’s remark characterizing the invisible hail is as follows: “The cloud is dissipating. The city of Kitezh has been wonderfully transformed. Near the western gate is the Assumption Cathedral and the prince's courtyard. High bell towers, fires on the walls, intricate towers and tumblers made of white stone and pine wood. The carving is decorated with pearls; painting in blue, ash and blue-scarlet colors, with all the transitions that occur on clouds. The light is bright, bluish-white and even on all sides, as if casting no shadow. To the left, opposite the gate, are the prince's mansions; The porch is guarded by a lion and a unicorn with silver fur. Sirin and Alkonost - birds of paradise with unfeminine faces - sing while sitting on the knitting needles. A crowd in white worldly robes with heavenly krins and lit candles in their hands; Among the crowd is Poyarok, the sighted one, and the Youth, who was his guide. This is where Fevronia ended up. The people greet her and the prince. Fevronia does not remember herself from amazement; she walks around the square, looking at everything, and claps her hands in delight. The people surround the prince and Fevronia and sing a wedding song to the sounds of the harp and paradise pipe, throwing flowers, roses and blue killer whales at their feet. Fevronia does not understand to whom the wedding song is being sung, whose wedding it is. Then the prince says to her: “It’s ours, my dear.”

Prince Yuri appears on the princely porch. Fevronia greets the prince as her father-in-law's daughter-in-law. A large ensemble sounds, in which all the main characters participate - Prince Yuri, Prince Vsevolod, Fevronia, the birds of paradise Sirin and Alkonost sing with them, Otrok and Poyarok join, and finally the whole choir (“Be with us here forever”). Prince Vsevolod invites Fevronia to church (“Oh, you, faithful bride, it’s time for us to go to the Church of God”). At this moment, Fevronia remembers Grishka: “Grishenka remained there in the forest.” Fevronia wants to send him a letter, “a small consolation for Grisha.” Poyarok is ready to write it. Fevronia dictates; she describes Kitezh, which did not fall, but disappeared, tells him that they did not die, but are alive, and they live in a wondrous city. “Who will enter this city?” - Fevronia asks Prince Yuri. “Anyone who does not have a split mind would prefer to live in the city,” Yuri replies. (The scene of Fevronia’s letter to Kuterma, according to the tradition of the first productions of the opera, is usually released. This goes against the categorical demand of the author, expressed by him regarding the production of the opera: “I cannot agree to omit the scene of the letter to Kuterma in the last film. There were conversations about this in St. Petersburg Fevronia’s letter is the culmination of her entire image. Fevronia, who has achieved bliss, remembers and cares about her fierce enemy and destroyer of Great Kitezh. Let the listeners delve into this, and not treat the last scene of the opera as an apotheosis” (from Rimsky-Korsakov’s letter to the conductor of the first. production of the opera in Moscow in 1908 by V.I. Suk). Finally, the letter is written, and the young people, accompanied by solemn singing and ringing of bells, slowly and majestically march to the cathedral to the crown.

A. Maykapar

History of creation

As an operatic plot, the ancient Russian legend about the city of Kitezh attracted the attention of Rimsky-Korsakov in 1898. Then the idea arose to connect her with the image of Fevronia, the heroine of the popular Murom story about Peter and Fevronia. This image took a central place in the libretto of V.I. Belsky (1866-1946). The composer began composing music at the beginning of 1903. By the end of September of the following year, the score of the opera was completed. The first performance took place on February 7 (20), 1907 on the stage of the Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg.

“The Tale of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronia” is one of the most significant works of Russian opera classics. It is characterized by a combination of epic and lyric poetry, heroic and fantastic motifs of folk poetry. The plot is based on an ancient Russian legend of the 13th century, the era of Tatar-Mongol rule. Real historical events took on a fantastic coloring in it. According to legend, the city of Kitezh was saved from destruction by the Tatars by “God’s will”: it became invisible and became a place of ideal, according to popular understanding, earthly life.

In working on the libretto, Belsky and Rimsky-Korsakov widely used a variety of motifs from folk poetry. As a result, as the librettist rightly asserted, “in the entire work there is not a single detail that would not in one way or another be inspired by a feature of some legend, poem, plot or other fruit of Russian folk art.”

Before the viewer passes a gallery of bright national types, unprecedentedly new on the opera stage. This is Fevronia - the ideal image of a Russian woman, faithful and loving, wise and benevolent, modest and selflessly devoted, ready for the feat of self-sacrifice. She is sharply contrasted with the image of Kuterma, stunning in its drama and life truth - a morally broken man, crushed by poverty. In terms of its social and accusatory power, this image has no equal in world operatic literature. The tragic fates of the main characters are shown in inseparable connection with the fate of the people experiencing the difficult times of the Tatar invasion, against the backdrop of pictures of Russian nature, folk life, and the patriotic struggle against a ruthless enemy. In accordance with the content of folk legends, along with the real ones, magical pictures of heavenly nature and the miraculously transformed city of Kitezh appear in the opera.

Music

“The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronia” is an opera legend. The slow development of the action, the abundance of broad expressive melodies of a Russian song character give the opera a distinctive national coloring, the flavor of distant hoary antiquity.

The orchestral introduction “In Praise of the Desert” paints a picture of a forest with the rustling of leaves and birdsong; Fevronia's melodies sound here.

The music of the first act is imbued with a bright lyrical mood. Fevronia’s song “Oh, you are the forest, my forest, the beautiful desert” is marked by spiritual purity and serene calm. The big scene of Fevronia with the prince is gradually filled with a jubilant, enthusiastic feeling. A love duet, warm and intimate, completes it. The duet is interrupted by the calling signals of hunting horns and the courageous song of the archers. The act ends with powerful, proud fanfares, symbolizing the image of Great Kitezh.

The second act is a monumental historical fresco, painted with a broad brush. Guslyar's mournful epic (a prophecy of a coming disaster) is designed in the style of an ancient epic tale. It is followed by a choir reminiscent of folk lamentations and laments. In a developed scene, a multifaceted characterization of Grishka Kuterma is given. The ringing of bells in the orchestra and joyful exclamations unite in a solemn choir welcoming Fevronia. In the scene of the meeting between Fevronia and Kuterma, her smooth, lyrical, melodious melodies are sharply contrasted with the angular, convulsive speech of the hawk moth. The Tatar invasion marks a sharp turn in the action; right up to the end of the act, the music is dominated by the elements of gloomy colors, threatening, harsh sounds that depict the Tatar invasion.

The third act consists of two scenes, which are connected by a symphonic intermission. The first picture is painted in dark, harsh colors, emphasizing the drama of the events taking place. Poyark’s gloomy, mournful story, interrupted by excited exclamations of the choir, forms a wide scene, saturated with great internal tension. Prince Yuri’s aria “Oh glory, vain wealth!” is imbued with a mood of heavy thought and deep sadness. The heroic song of the squad, which Vsevolod sings, is overshadowed by a premonition of doom. The final episode of the picture is full of mysteriously flickering sounds, the muffled hum of bells and magical numbness.

The symphonic intermission “The Battle of Kerzhenets” is an outstanding example of Russian program music. The battle between the Tatars and the Russians is depicted here with stunning realism and visual clarity. Having reached the limit of drama, the battle ends; only the echoes of the receding wild race are heard, which was opposed by the now broken beautiful melody of the song of the Kitezh squad. The Tatar choir “Not Hungry Crows” sounds tired and joyless at the beginning of the second picture. Fevronia's lamentations resemble a drawn-out folk song. Melancholy, feverish excitement, passionate prayer, grief, joy, horror - these nervously alternating states convey the terrible mental anguish of Kuterma. Confused choral phrases of the Tatars and a menacing alarm bell complete the third act.

The fourth act also consists of two scenes connected by a vocal-symphonic intermission. The first picture falls into two large sections. In the center of the first is Kuterma. Music with enormous tragic power conveys the acute mental discord of a man losing his mind, the wild visions of his hallucinating fantasy. The next section is devoted to showing the wonderful transformation of nature. The picture ends with a light lyrical duet.

The vocal-symphonic intermission “Walking into the Invisible City” follows without a break; Against the background of a radiant, majestic procession and joyful chimes, the intricate singing of birds of paradise sounds. The music of the second picture creates a motionless panorama of the wonderful city, as if frozen in a fairy-tale charm. Vocal phrases of the characters and choral episodes follow each other smoothly and sedately; their major sound illuminates the music with a soft and even glow. Only the wedding song and the gloomy images that appear in the scene of Fevronia’s letter remind us of past terrible events. The opera ends with an enlightened, long-fading chord.

M. Druskin

All those who have written about Rimsky-Korsakov’s operas agree in recognizing the composer’s penultimate opera, “The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronia,” as the pinnacle of his work; the synthetic nature of “Kitezh” is often spoken of, both from the point of view of the evolution of the work of Rimsky-Korsakov and the New Russian Musical School, and in the sense of the expression in this work of certain important features of the folk worldview. However, like “The Golden Cockerel”, “Kitezh”, despite its obvious perfection, with an impeccable classic appearance, remains a debatable work, scenically, so to speak, under-realized, non-repertoire and has not yet acquired the world, universal significance that it, certainly worthy.

“Kitezh” took an unusually long time to mature for Rimsky-Korsakov. The first mention of the plot of the opera dates back, as mentioned above, to 1892; in 1898, the idea was born of combining the ancient Russian legend about Batu’s invasion of the Volga region with the legend of Saint Fevronia of Murom, that is, the main character appears in the opera. Until 1903 - while working on “Saltan”, “Servilia”, “Kashchei”, “Pan Voivode” - there were joint discussions with V.I. Belsky about the concept and libretto. The actual work on Kitezh began in the spring of 1903 and was completely completed in January 1905. In the biography of Rimsky-Korsakov, there are cases of long germination of plots: for example, “The Tsar’s Bride” was written thirty years after the composer’s attention was first drawn to May’s drama; the plots of “Servilia” and “Saltan” waited in the wings for years. And yet, this was the first time that Rimsky-Korsakov had conducted such a thorough and lengthy work with a librettist.

This was, of course, due to the objective difficulties of the chosen plot and material: after all, ancient Russian legends provided only a meager outline of events and images, and everything else had to be found or composed. The method of working on the libretto of “Kitezh” was approximately the same as that of Mussorgsky in “Khovanshchina”: ancient legends were saturated with authentic materials from history and folk art, down to the smallest units - words, expressions inlaid into the text of the libretto, and in parallel, a dramatic concept of the opera was developed. But if Mussorgsky did everything himself, then Rimsky-Korsakov had in Belsky a remarkably educated and talented collaborator. Without exaggerating, one can call the libretto of Kitezh the best in Russian opera music. The list of his sources includes, along with the main ones (“The Kitezh Chronicler” in different editions, the story of Fevronia of Murom), also chronicles, stories about the Tatar invasion, “The Word” of Serapion Bishop of Vladimir, the story of Juliania Lazarevskaya, the story of Woe-Misfortune, historical songs , lyrical, ritual (wedding), epics, spiritual poems, etc. (For more information about the sources of the Kitezh libretto, see the corresponding chapter of the book by A. A. Gozenpud “N. A Rimsky-Korsakov. Themes and ideas of his operatic creativity.” It should also be emphasized that the Kitezh legend was first read by Rimsky-Korsakov and Belsky in the novel by P. I. Melnikov-Pechersky “In the Woods”, and for quite a long time the opera bore the subtitle “Trans-Volga legend” coming from the novel. Some features of the image of Fevronia are also connected with this work.)

Belsky rightfully asserted in his “Notes on the Text” that “perhaps in the entire work there is not a single little thing that would not in one way or another be inspired by a feature of some legend, poem, conspiracy or other fruit of the Russian folk creativity." With all that, the libretto of “Kitezh” is a compilation, and an independent work, and the main characters of “The Legend” - Fevronia and Grishka Kuterma, of course, could not be restored from ancient Russian sources. For the first time since The Snow Maiden, the composer received a text of such high artistic quality and, what is no less significant, a plot and text that so deeply corresponded not only to his immediate artistic intentions, but also to the basic principles of his personality. In “The Snow Maiden” it was a happy coincidence; “Kitezh” was immediately made “to the standards” of Rimsky-Korsakov.

Let us recall Rimsky-Korsakov’s thought about the differences between an objective artist and a subjective artist: the first, distinguished by his “great ability to expand his personality,” knows how to “understand and embody someone else’s soul, knows how to turn himself off from the depicted world and put the world, and not himself, at the center of the depicted "; the second “reveals his own spiritual nature in his writings.” We can say that in Kitezh, already at the level of concept and then libretto, there was a significant merging of these tasks.

The slow maturation of Kitezh was also associated with the importance that the composer and his entourage initially attached to the new opera. Rimsky-Korsakov wanted to write “Kitezh” especially carefully, slowly, “for himself.” The librettist and people close to the composer were aware of the work to a degree that apparently had not happened before, and were intensely awaiting the appearance of the opera. What was the meaning of these expectations, a letter from one of the “adepts” (I. I. Lapshin?), published in the book by A. N. Rimsky-Korsakov, gives an idea:

“There was always religious pathos in Rimsky-Korsakov’s work - in the form of an enthusiastic attitude towards the world as a whole, in the form of worship of the “eternally feminine” (Pannochka, Snegurochka, Volkhova, Swan, Marfa and especially Mlada), but he used Christian elements only accidentally. .. The ideas of self-sacrifice, compassion, shame, horror, reverence, and the mystery of death did not attract enough of his attention, and now I am following with the greatest interest the evolution of his personality.<...>In his work, symptoms of the last great period of all creativity begin to appear. The moment came for the author of “The Abduction from the Seraglio” when he began to write the Requiem; after the pastoral symphony came the Missa solemnis and the last quartets, Siegfried was replaced by Parsifal. Something similar, I think, is happening in the soul of our great artist, and I believe that nothing deathly, hypocritical, priestly, vile, synodal, lamp-shaped, Byzantine, or filthy will touch his pure soul. Religious creativity is fruitful when it stems from an individual, independent source... I hope that Rimsky-Korsakov’s religious music will be powerful, cheerful, and not repentant, oppressive - in a word, a la Vasnetsov, and not a la Nesterov.” (The contrast between “Vasnetsov and Nesterov” concerns not so much the painting of the two artists, but rather explains the idea of ​​the author of the letter about “religious realism”; in the libretto, and then in the music of “Kitezh”, listeners immediately caught Nesterov’s sentiments, with which the composer readily agreed. It should also put the word “Byzantine” in quotation marks; in this context it is identical to the concepts “synodal”, “official”.)

It can be argued that this expectation of a “miracle” was generously rewarded by Kitezh. And although the opinions of critics were not unequivocally panegyric, still no one doubted either the vital necessity of Rimsky-Korsakov’s new work, or that it was a work of enduring value. As Asafiev recalls, “they compared the impressions of Kitezh with the impressions of the publication of certain major phenomena of Russian literature, for example, the novels of Leo Tolstoy.” This alone can be considered an indicator of the new quality achieved by the composer: with all the successes of “Sadko”, “Saltan” or “The Tsar’s Bride”, comparisons with Tolstoy would hardly have been possible.

This new quality was naturally associated in the perception of listeners with the Christian aspects of the Kitezh legend embodied in music: after all, if paganism, glorified by Rimsky-Korsakov in his previous operas, remained in the past as an integral national worldview, then thousands continued to go to the “invisible city” on Lake Svetloyar pilgrims during the years when the opera was composed. The legend about the “city of the righteous” lived among the people and attracted the close attention of the intelligentsia. And naturally, the question of the concept of the opera, which captured, in the words of E. M. Petrovsky, images of “the great rise above the world - the core of the historical life of the people,” was inevitably intertwined with the question to what extent “Kitezh” is an expression of the artist’s personal worldview. Such a question can hardly be considered within the framework of this work. But it is worth noting that the entire, far from prosperous, life of Rimsky-Korsakov’s work was accompanied by controversy on this topic. In discussions of the Soviet period, the question came down to either the interpretation of “Kitezh” as an opera of “defense”, heroic and patriotic content (in this case, there was, in fact, nothing to discuss further), or to talk about some abstract “moral and philosophical concept of moral purity” "or about "affirmation of the ethical and aesthetic greatness of the people" (but such an idea is present in almost all other works of Rimsky-Korsakov), or to the understanding of "Kitezh" as a utopia reflecting the outdated, patriarchal ideals of the Russian peasantry - in this case, Rimsky-Korsakov The only “excuse” was the high quality of the music.

Leaving aside these judgments (often, however, having a good goal - the rehabilitation of opera), it can be noted that otherwise the prevailing point of view was that Rimsky-Korsakov came to the concept of “Kitezh”, driven by his brilliant intuition regarding folk art, his love for it or, as Asafiev put it, “exclusively by the instinct of a great stylist, that is, a purely aesthetic approximation.” During the era of the creation of Kitezh, this aesthetic path evoked different assessments. The most sensitive critics resolutely rejected suspicions of Rimsky-Korsakov’s sympathy for “those tastes, curiosities and entertainments which, as usual, not without the influence of the West, are spreading in Russian society under the loud and bold, although not always true to the essence, name of ‘mystical movements’.” . But for those who recognized the concept of “Kitezh” as a whole “national property”, there still remained, at least in the subtext, some bewilderment. As the English researcher of Rimsky-Korsakov’s work, J. Abraham, wrote, “it is obvious that “Kitezh” cannot be objectively interpreted as only an external characteristic of a faith to which the artist was indifferent or to which he showed a purely aesthetic interest... “Kitezh” - this is such a clear “something else” that it is impossible not to reflect on its significance in the spiritual life of the composer. Was the idea of ​​Kitezh only a triumph of instinct over reason? Did Rimsky-Korsakov come to some kind of agreement with Orthodoxy in his later years? Or did he and Belsky think that they had found the essence of Christianity in the soul of nature? There are no answers to these questions." Even though the formulation is somewhat simplified, such questions are still natural.

Above we talked about the synthetic nature of “Kitezh”. It manifests itself at the level of genre and thematic theme of the opera. Thus, it has been noted that it combines the features of an epic-heroic opera (such as “A Life for the Tsar” or “Prince Igor”), historical musical drama (Mussorgsky’s opera and “The Woman of Pskov”; in relation to Rimsky-Korsakov’s first opera “Kitezh” with its epic-historical plot - a kind of genre reprise), models of folk scenes and nature paintings developed in “The Snow Maiden”, “Mlada”, “Sadko”, elements of lyrical drama developed by Rimsky-Korsakov in the operas of the second half of the 90s . The new quality of the dramaturgy of “Kitezh”, coming from the plot and sources - ancient Russian legends, is not so much the epic slowness of the action as a whole, the statuesque and oratorical nature of a number of scenes (although these signs of the epic genre also take place in “Kitezh”), but rather the contemplativeness of the dramaturgy, the transition "actions" to favorites ancient Russian literature(both book and oral) forms of dialogue-interview (Fevronia’s conversation with Knyazhich, which occupies almost the entire first act; Fevronia’s dialogues with Kuterma in the third and beginning of the fourth act; question-and-answer structure of the finale, etc.) or in the form of ritual character. As shown by researchers, the second act (before the scene of the Tatar invasion), having a rondal form typical of folk scenes in Rimsky-Korsakov’s operas (such as the “marketplace” in “Mlad” or “Sadko”), is internally organized by the dramaturgy of the wedding ceremony. B.V. Asafiev compared the dramaturgy of the first act with the evening drama, where the tribute to the Creator and the creation culminates in the “great doxology” of Fevronia, and the first scene of the third act, the scene in Bolshoi Kitezh, with the singing of the akathist. Indeed, almost this entire scene, which is the focus of the epic line of the opera, is based on ritual forms: first on folk-epic question-and-answer structures (Poyarok and the Kitezhans), then on the antiphons of the choir and soloist (three times performing the “znamenny” theme of prayer to the Heavenly Queen and answers expressed through the mouth of the Youth), then, after the departure of the squad, the continuation of antiphonal singing in the scene of the immersion of the hail.

At the level of form, the dramatic principle of Kitezh, which has many prerequisites in the previous work of Rimsky-Korsakov, but here acquires universal significance, is expressed in what Yu. D. Engel called the “autocracy of the musical concept” in relation to drama, and E. M. Petrovsky - “absolute songfulness”. We are talking about the dominance of song-strophic forms in opera, about their symmetry, repetition, etc. The originality of the use of these forms typical of Rimsky-Korsakov in Kitezh was noted by one of the first listeners: “The individual structures are not fused with each other... here there is no trace of obscuring the boundaries of the constructions. Here they are crowned with certain, clearly distinguishable cadences, just as the “amen” of the choir follows the exclamations of the priest.”

The constancy of the strophic principle is combined in Kitezh with the constancy of the melodic material. A.I. Kandinsky characterizes the musical development of the image of Fevronia as a variation on a constant theme, but the same can be said about all other images of the opera, including the key ones - the Great Kitezh, the “Mother Desert”, the Tatars, Grishka Kuterma. “In musical terms, the opera-tale appears as an opera-song, where the number principle is completely overcome, the contrasts between melodious and recitative moments are smoothed out, and traditional operatic ensemble forms are abolished.<...>The complex, multi-colored melodic fabric of the opera is essentially monothematic, for it unfolds from a small number of generalized song phrases. There is not a single random chant in the entire opera.”

The first reviewers of Kitezh associated the novelty of the style and form of the opera with the phenomenon of the final “overcoming of Wagnerism.” “It turns out,” wrote Yu. D. Engel, “something completely special, undoubtedly arising from the general Wagnerian leitmotif principle and at the same time absolutely opposite to Wagner in style. The endless song of “Kitezh” flows in an even, measured wave, from beat to beat, from act to act. This wave carries on its ridge now one, now another face, now one, now another picture, but each of these faces is placed in one specific, basic musical perspective, each picture is epically sustained in one basic, long-lasting mood.”

“Wagner’s opera,” wrote E. M. Petrovsky, “is a drama that has become a song; Korsakov’s opera is a song that freely takes on the guise of a stage spectacle.”

Sending the score of “Kitezh” to Petrovsky in 1905, the composer provided the gift with an ironic inscription: “Trying or trying all my life to move past Wagner, and not from him, in my work, perhaps, I find myself deprived of forward movement and, like a chicken, I rush while sitting.” - this follows two epigraphs: the first is from Petrovsky: “If the forward movement of musical and stage art is possible beyond Wagner, then it will go from Wagner, and not past Wagner”; the second is from Kozma Prutkov: “Running, I move forward, and you rush while sitting.”

Nevertheless, Wagnerian comparisons and contrasts, of course, often arose in the process of working on the opera. So, before starting work, the composer told Yastrebtsev that “he wants to write this opera very much in Russian and, moreover, to instrument it as interestingly as possible, a la Tristan.” Comparisons with “Parsifal” appear strongly in all reviews of the premiere of “Kitezh” - including because, when creating the libretto, Belsky did not at all pass by Wagner’s last opera: Fevronia is, as the composer himself later said, “the Slavic Parsifal”; therefore, other parallels are included: Kuterma - Kundri (and maybe Amfortas), Prince Yuri - Gurnemanz, Great Kitezh - Monsalvat, etc. In the end, the plot of "Parsifal" is nothing more than the "finding hail", and the images of the transforming earth, the Easter mood of the finale are by no means alien to Wagner. At the musical level, there are also obvious similarities - in the “rustling of the forest”, in the bells of the invisible city. And of course, some important similarity between Parsifal and Kitezh lies in the bold departure of both artists from the framework of operatic performance.

As we know, Wagner gave his last opera the subtitle Biihnenweihfestspiel, which can be loosely translated as “stage mystery.” Rimsky-Korsakov defined “Kitezh” as a “legend”, he also liked the term “liturgical opera” proposed by Petrovsky, and he even thought of introducing it into the text of the author’s preface to the publication, but refrained (apparently for fear of “ beautiful words"). “Liturgical opera,” according to Petrovsky, is “an opera emancipated from the realistic requirements of the dramatic theater... an opera that dares to use beautiful conventions, to harmonious and orderly design (like the tragedy of the Greeks) of the events depicted in general, to symbolism that may be close to symbolism church services, although applied to different content" (Letter from E.M. Petrovsky to N.A. Rimsky-Korsakov dated April 20, 1904. It should be emphasized that this term arose in connection with “Sadko” and not with “Kitezh” and did not imply associations with Christian symbolism, not textual content, namely musical dramaturgy.). If we recall Rimsky-Korsakov’s reflections on “beauty” and “truth” (or “realism”) during the period of “The Tsar’s Bride” and “Saltan” (“ Truth always somehow rational”, “in opera, in my old age, I am more attracted singing, A Truth very little”, “music is essentially a lyrical art”, etc.), then we can conclude that “Kitezh” was the next - and very radical - step in this direction. However, Rimsky-Korsakov did not intend to write “mystery,” which is emphasized in his letter to Petrovsky: “... Deviations... towards the realistic, I believe, should always exist. They will give life and variety to the liturgical form, without which this form can easily fall into monotony and ossification of the church liturgy.”

The author's description of the work, given in a letter to F. Grus, suits Kitezh very well. Discussing the translation of the words “invisible city” proposed by Grus as “transformed city” (in German Weltverklarte Stadt instead of Unsichtbare Stadt; the second version remained in the publication) and agreeing with this change, Rimsky-Korsakov wrote: “The plot of my opera has precisely a spiritual connotation and borrowed from schismatic legends<... >The meaning of it [the German title] seemed to me even more suitable to the content of the opera than the Russian word invisible... it is especially pleasant to emphasize the spiritual connotation in the title, so that the meaning seems to be spiritual verse dramatized and adapted to the stage, despite some scenes of a secular nature" (Italics mine. - M.R.).

Of course, the definition of “Kitezh” as a dramatized spiritual verse should not be taken literally. And yet, the very mention of this genre contains an important indication of the style, form and even type of melodic material (just as, for example, the subtitle “true carol” in “The Night Before Christmas” is the key to understanding the concept of this opera). Russian spiritual verse is always apocryphal, that is, a free interpretation and development of canonical texts and symbols in the popular consciousness, and “schismatic” or “sectarian” (a word also used by Rimsky-Korsakov and his critics (Something specifically “sectarian” was heard, in particular, in the finale of the opera: P. Karasev imagined “echoes of zeal” in the enthusiastic “outbursts” of the choir; B.V. Asafiev also recalled “zeal” or “trochae of early Christianity.” In intonation in the context of “Kitezh”, a complex associative series is evoked by images of prophetic birds: although in the songs of Sirin and Alkonost one can hear the typical Rimsky-Korsakov techniques of musical fantasy (reduced and increased frets, chromatics, “artificial” intervalics), these images are no more fantastic than the Great himself Kitezh; they are its special, mysterious, and if not “sectarian”, then precisely apocryphal color.)) predetermines the special coloring of imagery. Within its limits, those motives of Fevronia that were often interpreted as “pantheistic” (worship of the Earth, appeal to God-Light, spiritualization of everything) are also quite appropriate visible world etc.); In the categories of folk spiritual verse, the philosophy of Grief and Misfortune can also be understood, professed by the “last drunkard” Grishka (who, with all the gravity of his deeds, is in the opera not only a fighter against God, but also a seer of God, although in contrast to the heavenly visions of Fevronia, Grishka’s visions apocalyptically scary). The reference to spiritual verse gives some explanation of the dramaturgy of repetition - at the level of form, since the verse is always strophic, and at the level of melody, since the chants of spiritual verses are usually short and have either a narrative or an insistently “incantatory” character. (In the second act of the opera there are several direct inclusions of verse, and in different forms: an epic verse about a vision Mother of God- it plays an important dramatic role, predicting the coming disaster, and correlates with the appeal of the Kitezh people to the Heavenly Queen in the first scene of the third act; a verse by the poor brethren - such verses Rimsky-Korsakov often heard in childhood; “corrupting” verse about hawk moth. There are direct textual associations with spiritual verse in the first act (poems about the “beautiful desert”), in the finale (“The Dove Book”), etc.)

This special structure of melody was clearly felt by the first listeners of “Kitezh”. Petrovsky wrote about the “constancy of the melodic melody that hits the consciousness,” Yastrebtsev expressed the idea, with which Rimsky-Korsakov immediately agreed, that in Fevronia’s themes there is “some kind of isolation (almost stubborn persistence)” and this “is the best way to achieve the impression her idealistic fanaticism." Indeed, already the first and main motive of Fevronia clarifies the verse basis of the image: it not only has a laconic and completely closed form, but also contains a range of fifths and a descending cadence that are very characteristic of poetry.

Of course, the melodic sources of “Kitezh” are not at all limited to one genre - we are talking about mood And stock of spiritual verse as some kind of fundamental principle. Other sources include znamenny chant, epic and lyrical song, round dance and dance genres, laments, lullabies, buffoons, etc. In accordance with the plot special meaning has Old Russian Znamenny intonation. It lives in the opera on two levels: as one of the constant components of its melodic language and as an independent figurative and melodic layer (in this capacity, it comes to the fore in the scene of the immersion of hail and in the finale, as well as in the second scene of the fourth act, in “ antiphonal" stage of Fevronia and Knyazhich). In a special work on this topic, many examples are given of the almost word-for-word coincidence of individual cells of the opera’s thematics with the intonations and chants of Znamenny chant, including in themes of a purely lyrical nature. However, all this is not borrowing at all. The only quotation of this kind in “Kitezh” - the chant “Behold the Bridegroom is coming” in the scene of the appearance of the murdered Prince - refers not to the Znamenny chant, but to the Kiev (that is, later) chant and was taken by the composer as an easily recognizable motif for the listener, having a direct associative meaning: both in the time of Rimsky-Korsakov, and now this chant is heard in churches during Holy Week, before the Resurrection, and in the opera - before “Walking into the Invisible City”.

All melodic sources in “Kitezh” are not interpreted quotationally: they are transposed into the structure of the “legend” (including authentic melodies of songs about the Tatar full). Yu. D. Engel characterized such a transposition as bringing the thematic material of the opera “under a single denominator of song leitmotivism”, A. I. Kandinsky - as “recreating all-Russian stylistic typicality”. G. A. Orlov’s conclusion is much more harsh: “idealization, largely dogmatization of song stylistics”; “artificial, motionless perfection, detachment from both the primordial folk element and spontaneity, the individually unique musical self-manifestation of the composer’s personality.”

However, with a careful and unbiased look, “Kitezh” appears precisely as an individually unique self-manifestation of the composer’s personality, and a complete, final manifestation: after all, can’t all of Rimsky-Korsakov’s music be understood as “a single grandiose “praise to the desert,” a single bright akathist to God’s world and everything hedgehog in it,” and “the indescribable light of sound beauty,” which, in Engel’s beautiful expression, radiates from Rimsky-Korsakov’s score, isn’t this the ideal toward which the artist has been working his entire life? It is clear what is meant by the terms “all-Russian song stylistics” or “idealized song stylistics”, especially if we take into account the time of the appearance of “Kitezh” and compare its style with the style of the early “Russian” opuses of Stravinsky or Prokofiev. However, not every “ethnographism” conveys the “primordial element of folklore,” and the task of “Kitezh” was completely different than, for example, in Stravinsky’s “Le Noces”: to reproduce not folklore, not a ritual, but a folk ideal. Is it correct, recognizing, as G. A. Orlov does, the style of “Kitezh” as the final, exhaustive manifestation of the Kuchkist idea of ​​the folk, to see in this work a “dogmatization” of style?

For all its contemplation, the dramaturgy of Kitezh has a clearly expressed aspirational character - more than in any other opera by Rimsky-Korsakov. In addition to the sharp dramatic contrasts introduced by plot-driven scenes (Tatar invasion, battle, Grishka’s betrayal), the opera has a single intra-musical dramaturgy of “ascent to the city”.

“Out of two plot options: a) Kitezh is hidden under water, b) Kitezh remains on earth, but invisible to the “blind” - the composer chooses the second one,” writes B.V. Asafiev. - This gives him the opportunity to develop the action as an ascent to the sight of Kitezh<...>. The desire to comprehend the light, spiritualization of consciousness, transformation and transformation - these are the actual volitional principles of the developing, growing up actions "Tales".<...>The technique of parallelism, constantly used by Rimsky-Korsakov in almost all of his operas... in this case is deepened, thanks to the unique concept of the plot, to a degree of extreme tension and significance: namely, to the point of bringing the visible divisibility of the world to internal unity.”

These words of B.V. Asafiev from “Symphonic Etudes” can be considered the most serious and profound ever said about “Kitezh”. Indeed, the parallelism in this opera does not lie in the sphere of contrast between the real and fantasy worlds, it is not expressed in the fatal clash of good and evil, as was the case in the operas of the 90s. The idea of ​​"Kitezh" is in the spiritual overcoming of evil - both "external" ("the evil of the Tatars" as God's punishment, an instrument of testing people and the city), and "internal" (Grishka's betrayal). The result of overcoming is the acquisition of hail. According to Asafiev, the opera contains, in addition to the main one, several “small acts”: lyrical - Fevronia and Knyazhich, dramatic - Fevronia and Grishka, epic - Maly Kitezh and the Tatars. Fevronia takes part in each of them, and in general her image is built as a kind of tripartite. “In the first act of a legend, like in a grain, everything is potentially contained further development actions.<...>In this regard, the central point of this act unfolds in the “great doxology” of Fevronia (“we have Sunday service day and night”). Through at the moment a deep and continuous thematic connection is outlined between this action and the process of “ascent to Kitezhgrad” and with staying in it, that is, with the fourth act.<...>. The dogma of joyful acceptance of the world is expounded by Fevronia in the beautiful lyrical arioso “Darling, how to live without joy.” Through this, a connection is outlined with Fevronia’s feat in relation to Grishka, who slandered her (third act, scene of Grishka’s release from his bonds). Arioso develops into a “prophetic vision”: “and the unprecedented will come true: everything will be adorned with beauty.” This music summarizes and thus, as it were, predicts the entire wonderful scene of the “transfiguration” of nature in the first half of the fourth act.<...>The result of it all: this is the appearance of the theme of the capital city of Kitezh after Poyarka’s explanation of who Fevronia met.<...>Now the fate of Fevronia is connected with the fate of Kitezh."

Thus, the last act of “Kitezh” is, as it were, a dynamic reprise of the first. In the middle of this tripartite there is the scene of the invasion and Fevronia’s prayer to save the city, as well as scenes of Fevronia and Grishka. This second most important individual image of the opera is also very dynamic. Grishka is just as relentlessly drawn to evil as Fevronia is to good, and throughout the opera he goes from “just drunkenness” to a terrible crime and a terrible retribution for it. “In Grishka’s musical characteristics, one can distinguish... two main units of motives: impudently daring - defiant - and mournfully intense ... From the last “series” of these motives, they stand out and receive wide application and deep transformation are those that sound in the second act in Grishka’s phrases: “We won’t get used to grief...” and “grief is fiercely envious.”... As Grishka’s mind becomes cloudy, his themes become more and more distorted and an ugly print.<...>In place of bitter grief and irrepressible melancholy, He now appears - the demon-tempter. From pure diatonicism, Grishka’s thematics tend toward unstable chromaticism.”

The moment of rapprochement between the antagonistic images of Fevronia and Kuterma is their joint prayer to the Earth, but if in Fevronia’s mouth the prayer, built on Grishka’s intonations, turns into doxology, into a premonition of heaven, then in Grishka’s mouth it disintegrates, replaced by a mad dance. The development of his image ends here, but a short minor episode in the dazzlingly bright finale connects Grishka with the transformed city with a thin thread of hope. This episode-memory of Fevronia is built not on Grishka’s themes, but on the initial and end-to-end theme of the “Tale” - the theme of “ice”, here depicting the symbol of the earthly share.

“Spring” in F major, in which the Kitezh theme first appears at the very end of the first act, then acquires a special symbolic meaning. “The tendency of the action of the “Tale” to be a bright, festive stay in F major is emphasized several times, and the appearance of this key each time sounds like a symbol of hope and becomes more stable, more persistent... the closer the process is to its final completion.” In parallel with the rise of F major, the motifs of ringing also develop, which first appear in the first act (“crimson ringing” in Fevronia’s visions), then are recalled along with the theme of hail in Fevronia’s prayer for the salvation of Kitezh at the end of the second act, in the appearance of Kitezh to the Tatars at the bottom of the lake in the first scene of the third act and are heard in full force during the intermission between the two scenes of the fourth act - “Walking into the Invisible City” - and in the finale. Between these festive Kitezh ringings there are two more very significant transformations of the bells: in the first scene of the third act - first a mournful, and then a quiet, mysteriously joyful ringing (“the hum of bells”) in the scene of the transformation of the city and in the second scene of this action - “the damned ringing , frantic ringing” in Grishka’s visions.

The essay about “Kitezh” in Asafiev’s “Symphonic Etudes” ends with the words: “Apparently, with it [“Kitezh”] the era of national-epic operatic works ended. Such great achievements always serve as milestones: a synthesis of the past and a challenge to the future.<...>And we... are not even able to indicate the place and significance of this work in the future evolution of Russian culture.” Historical circumstances have developed in such a way that these words fully retain their meaning today.

M. Rakhmanova

This work occupies a special place in the work of Rimsky-Korsakov. Its philosophical and ethical meaning was not immediately understood by contemporaries, accustomed to the traditional Christian-mystical interpretation of the legend. The composer was reproached for the abundance of everyday and crude details (especially in the scenes of the 2nd act).

The opera premiered at the Mariinsky Theater (1907), although it became important milestone in the history of Russian opera, for a number of reasons, was not entirely successful. This performance became Shkafer's directorial debut at the Mariinsky Theatre. He was unable to attract the artist M. Nesterov to the production, whose work (as the director believed) best suited the style of the opera.

The main roles at the premiere were performed by Kuznetsova, Ershov, Labinsky. Cherkasskaya later became one of the best performers of the title role.

The work contains many striking episodes: Fevronia’s arioso lament from act 3 “Oh, you, my dear groom”, the symphonic intermission “The Battle at Kerzhenets”, etc. Let us note the productions of 1983 at the Bolshoi Theater (director Svetlanov), 1994 at the Mariinsky Theater ( director Gergiev). Among the best foreign productions of recent years is the 1995 performance at the opera festival in Bregenz (dir. Kupfer, director Fedoseev, soloists Prokina, Galuzin, etc.). In 1995 the opera was staged in Yekaterinburg.

Discography: CD - Le Chant du Monde. Dir. Svetlanov, Prince Yuri Vsevolodovich (Vedernikov), Prince Vsevolod Yurievich (Raikov), Fevronia (Kalinina), Grishka Kuterma (Pyavko) - Arlecchino. Dir. Nebolsin, Prince Yuri Vsevolodovich (I. Petrov), Prince Vsevolod Yurievich (Ivanovsky), Fevronia (Rozhdestvenskaya), Grishka Kuterma (D. Tarkhov).