The Nationalist Agenda

Christiane-Marie Cantwell

According to the World Wide Web, “Russian Opera” is restricted to the 19th century, as when one inputs the term into a search engine, the results are nothing but pieces written and composed during that century, though it is known that opera has been performed in Russia since 1736. Prior to the 1800’s, music written in Russia was not accorded a national title. This then begs the question, what is so specific about the pieces that are Russian national music that they warrant the appellation? In this essay, this question will be answered, arguing for the three main characteristics of national Russian opera: a specific musical style, native Russian source texts, and overarching nationalism characterized by the theme of the Other. To begin, an opera must be composed in the “Russian” style to be considered a national work. Russian composers who do not use this style are excluded from the distinction. For example, Anton Rubinstein, a contemporary of the Kuchka in St Petersburg, did not compose Russian music, yet he was Russian himself. This is because his compositions were not set in the “national style”, which will be defined below. His work was far too conservative, classic -- read Western. This distinction seems trifling, but style is incredibly important in creating a separate identity, which anchors art to a country. It fosters a sense of Russian individualism against the overwhelming cultural monopoly of Western Europe. Through set styles and familiar motifs, listeners can identify the work as particularly Russian, and which is therefore something to which citizens can relate. The latter remains true despite Russian style being wholly fabricated. As Robert C. Ridenour writes “most of the traits now associated with the Russian musical style are Russian only because they were first used widely by Russian composers following Glinka’s example” (1981, 77). There is nothing linking national music to an idea of Russianness, since the material was inspired by a multitude of sources, not limited to slavic folk songs. Glinka himself, the “father of Russian music”, used many Western conventions, like in Antonida’s italianate cavatina in Life for the Tsar (1836). Yet, importantly, the inherent Western-ness of Glinka’s work does not matter, because as subsequent composers drew inspiration from him, such as the Kuchka, they succeeded in creating a tradition of a certain musical style, and by attributing the title of “Russian” music to it, they wholly fabricated the genre. Some of its characteristics are the Glory chorus, ever present in the work of the Kuchka, and the innovation in composition as seen, for example, first in Glinka’s Life for the Tsar, then emulated in pieces like Musorgky’s Boris Godunov (1872). Regardless of the artificiality, the creation of a style is a defining feature of what is or is not national music. However it is not the music on its own that divides Russian opera into its own subgroup. The fact that all source texts for these types of operas are of Russian origin is of importance, and this springs from the value of having a plot that the native viewers would already be familiar with. It creates a rapport between the viewers and the opera, a sort of camaraderie, and in this case, of national pride. Using source texts from Pushkin or events from Russian history allows composers to paint the drama in broad strokes, leaving gaps to be filled by the viewers who already know the story. This type of interaction is vital within a national opera, as it allows the people to play a part in the piece, embedding the work within the national consciousness. For example, Musorgsky’s Boris Godunov deals with the story of Boris Godunov, a 17th century Czar who ascended to power through a vote of the Zemsky Sobor, but whose rule was constantly plagued by rumours that he had murdered

of Godunov’s death, is extremely familiar to Russians, not only through history but also through Nikolay Karamzin’s 1815 account in History of the Russian State, and Pushkin’s 1825 work Boris Godunov. Musorgksy is fully aware of the power that this narrative holds within his country. As such, when the production ends with the Holy Fool, his message of “Oh terror! Oh terror! / Allow thy tears to flow, / Wretched people!”, the viewers are not left to guess at his meaning (1990, Royal Opera House (London, England)). They already know of the Time of Troubles, of the subsequent instability of the Russian nation and civil wars during the years after Boris’ death, of the effects of serfdom established under his rule. But there is no need to explicitly state it, for viewers are now pulled into the story, playing both the part of the viewers and of the narrator. Without them, the piece has no meaning, and it is this type of reciprocal relationship that characterizes a national piece. Lastly, a defining theme of Russian national opera is that of the Other. The juxtaposition of Russia with other nations is an important characteristic of the genre, because it allows composers to showcase the role Russia plays within the greater world, in opposition to the Other. This trope is seen in Glinka’s Ruslan and Lyudmila (1842), where the lovers represent the nation and its people, and Farlaf, Finn and Ratmir are the exotic Other. In this piece, Russia is imagined as a nation holding up to outside influence, a symbol of the nationalist rhetoric. In Borodin’s Prince Igor (1868), Igor, the quintessential Russian leader, goes off to fight the Tartars. Instead, he gets kidnapped by them, but maintains a stoic countenance throughout, vowing to get back at them. His enemy, Kontchak, respects Igor’s stubbornness, which, if assuming Igor is Russia, is a very powerful metaphor indeed, where Russia is more stalwart than any other nations, who are weak in their decadence. This constant quest to present the Russian nation as better than all others is a symbolize of Russia’s deeply entrenched insecurity about its position on the world stage. For such a large country, they do have a cultural inferiority complex, especially when it comes to Western art forms, such as opera. Using the theme of the Other is therefore a device that characterizes national Russian opera because it supports the nationalist sentiment, often illustrating Russia as a better country than their neighbours, and simultaneously defines Russia themselves in opposition to them. In conclusion, Gerald Abraham, in his review of Borodin’s Prince Igor, states that “the real subject of the opera [...] is not a person and his adventures, but the spirit of a people” (1931, 77). Though stated in reference to one specific opera, this statement can apply to all national Russian opera. The pieces do not concern themselves with Wagnerian myths, or the over-convoluted plots of French Grand Opera, but rather with Russia itself, its people, and its role within the global community. The style creates a musical identity, apart from music just written in Russia, and by drawing inspiration from Russian literary texts and historical events, composers create an interactive link between the opera and the viewers. Both of these characteristics are tied together through the theme of the Other, defining Russia in opposition passing a message about its place in the world. In the end, national Russian opera is about Russians, more than anything else. It is music of the people, for the people, by the people.