1976 LP text:
Before you lies a work with a difficult yet fortunate destiny. Before being embodied in the two discs you now hold, the opera "The Miser" lay forgotten in the silence of an archive for over a century and a half. It survived only in the works of theater and music historians who remembered the brilliant triumph of its creators when, in both capitals and the provinces, on the stages of imperial, serf, and commercial theaters, the work of the remarkable Russian figures — playwright Yakov Borisovich Knyazhnin and composer Vasily Alexeyevich Pashkevich — was performed to packed houses with tremendous success.
The name Knyazhnin — one of the illustrious figures of the 18th-century Russian Enlightenment, a remarkable playwright and poet, and the celebrated author of the tyrant-slaying tragedy "Vadim of Novgorod," which was burned by order of Catherine II — is well known and occupies a prominent place in the history of Russian culture.
Significantly less popular is the name Vasily Pashkevich, a rare and gifted Russian composer. Biographical data about him is scant and incomplete. Pre-revolutionary directories are quite brief: "Pashkevich Vasily — court chamber musician. Entered the service of the Directorate (of Imperial Theaters) as a violinist on October 1, 1763, appointed conductor of music for balls on March 1, 1789, with the duty of playing in the orchestra when necessary. In 1790, he was awarded 1600 rubles 'for various musical compositions and efforts beyond his duty...'". Additionally, according to other sources, Pashkevich was the kapellmeister of Knipper's "free" (commercial) theater in St. Petersburg, taught music at the Academy of Arts, accompanied dance lessons of the "august" family members on the violin, and most importantly, was the author of many vocal and instrumental works, most of which have not survived.
In 1779, a fortuitous meeting for Russian art occurred between Vasily Pashkevich and Yakov Knyazhnin. The fruit of their collaboration was the opera "Misfortune from the Carriage," which quickly gained wide popularity. The story of a young peasant sold into exile because his master needed a new carriage moved some viewers, outraged others, and amused yet others. The foolishness and tyranny of the master, the sincerity and depth of the peasants' feelings, and the wit and resourcefulness of the jester Afanasy were all expressed in the music with unprecedented vividness.
The next opera by Pashkevich and Knyazhnin, "The Miser," marked by even greater maturity of talent and remarkable perfection of form, was written on a well-known, almost international plot, and became a phenomenon of unique Russian culture.
The apparent democratic nature of these works is no accident. Russian national opera emerged during the rise of the Enlightenment movement, which expressed protest against the horrors and cruelties of serfdom, and could not help but bear the imprint of the movement's ideas. The resounding success of Pashkevich's operas caught the attention of the empress: Pashkevich was given the libretto of the august writer titled "Fevey." The opera was written, and its premiere soon took place. The staging of "Fevey" at the Hermitage Theater astonished foreign guests with its unprecedented luxury. But the real revelation for them was the music of Vasily Pashkevich, especially the scene with the Kalmyks, their chorus, songs, and dances. (It can be said that the history of Russian musical orientalism began with this work by Pashkevich).
A happy period begins for Pashkevich. His operas are staged in dozens of theaters across Russia. "Misfortune from the Carriage," "The Miser," and "The Saint Petersburg Guest Yard" (written in collaboration with Mikhail Matinsky) are performed with unfailing success. Arias, duets, and romances by Pashkevich are performed in the salons of the nobility and in the modest homes of officials, copied into albums, and published in collections.
However, neither talent nor popularity saved Vasily Pashkevich from disgrace and humiliation when Paul I dismissed the late Empress Catherine's court. Dismissed without a pension, Pashkevich died in poverty in 1797. His name was forgotten, his manuscripts lost, and from many works, only a few lines remained in the works of music historians.
And then, in 1974, came the sensational success of the opera "The Miser" staged at the Moscow Chamber Musical Theater, almost 200 years after its premiere in St. Petersburg. The old opera, revived by a young ensemble, proved not to be a museum piece but a living, thrilling work of art even today.
The young Moscow scholar and musician Yevgeny Levashov deserves much credit for the rebirth of "The Miser." He brought this remarkable work out of undeserved obscurity, restored the score, and created a piano reduction. This required deciphering old notes, translating them into the modern system of notation, and editing them in strict accordance with the author's style. Additionally, at the request of the theater, Yevgeny Levashov created harpsichord variations on the main themes of the opera, against which the prose dialogues are played.
Old Russian operas, as works of the musical-dramatic genre, include prose scenes and dialogues that occupy the same place as the musical numbers. "The Miser" is no exception. However, in this work by Pashkevich, the dramaturgical role of the musical numbers significantly increases. The music actively engages in the action, continues and develops it. The main place in the opera is occupied by ensembles — extended genre scenes that rapidly move the action forward.
Vasily Pashkevich masterfully created sharply defined musical characteristics with a special comedic generalization. The composer sensitively and keenly captured the satirical direction of Knyazhnin's text and reflected it vividly and lively. The lyrical images of Lyubima and Milovid are revealed in touching and sentimental intonations, almost romance-like, characteristic of the genre of the "Russian romance"; the sly rascals — maid Marfa and especially servant Prolaz — have song-and-dance intonations. The central character of the opera, Skryagin, is portrayed by the composer with sarcastic, sometimes grotesque colors. Skryagin's long monologue in the second act is the climax of the character, a scene skillfully parodying the usual tragic conflict between feeling and duty. In Skryagin's case, it is a comedic conflict between his passion for the beautiful "countess" and his reluctance to lend her 20,000 rubles. Pashkevich employs an innovative technique, using an "accompanied" recitative for this monologue, unprecedented in comic opera. Its elevated heroic-pathetic style, completely inappropriate in this situation, creates a striking comedic effect. This episode of the opera was already praised in old times: "…this monologue, being arranged in recitative, does great honor to the composer…".
In "The Miser," beautiful melodies, classically clear harmony, and mastery of orchestral writing — all the achievements of the musical culture of its time — are generously demonstrated by the Russian composer, and his creation undoubtedly stands on par with the best works of Pashkevich's contemporaries such as Philidor, Paisiello, and Cimarosa.
In the recording, the opera "The Miser" is presented in the stage version performed at the Moscow Chamber Musical Theater. Professor Boris Pokrovsky and his young assistants, conductor Vladimir Agronsky and director Yuri Yershov, created a production in which Pashkevich's beautiful music found witty and precise stage realization.
The complex stylized design of the production includes a vocal divertissement, performed, as was customary in the 18th century, during the intermission. This divertissement, preceded by genuine annotations from songbooks of those years, helps to create the atmosphere of a theatrical performance from a bygone era.
The return of remarkable Russian operas of the 18th century to active creative life is a true event in the cultural life of our country.
Grigory Spektor
SYNOPSIS
Skrjagin, an old moneylender, is the guardian of his niece, Lyubima. He is in love with a "countess," unaware that she is actually a serf girl named Marfa, placed there by Milovid, who is in love with Lyubima. Milovid’s servant, Prolaz, is also part of the conspiracy. He has earned Skrjagin’s complete trust by pretending to be his loyal friend and servant.
To stoke Skrjagin’s passion, Marfa, playing the role of the countess, stages a scene of anger, making Skrjagin beg for her mercy. After mocking his patched-up costume, she leaves. Prolaz then further inflames Skrjagin’s greed by telling him about the countess’s immense wealth. Skrjagin’s desire intensifies, and he decides to dress in a fancy coat that he has in pawn, even though it’s too tight for him.
As Skrjagin prepares to change, Lyubima arrives, asking for some money for her needs. Despite her pleas and threats, Skrjagin refuses. He controls her inheritance of twenty thousand rubles until she comes of age, a fact he deceitfully conceals. After he leaves, Lyubima expresses her feelings of despair, sustained only by her love for Milovid and hope in his plan. Milovid seizes a moment to speak with her alone, but their tender meeting is interrupted by Marfa and Prolaz.
Marfa continues to play the countess, which irritates Prolaz, but Milovid reassures him with promises of rewards if their plot succeeds. Lyubima also promises favors to their helpers. Marfa, however, remains skeptical of the promises made by nobles.
Milovid is confident of success: once Skrjagin is deprived of money, he will not want to keep Lyubima. Prolaz and Marfa’s affection scenes are interrupted by Skrjagin’s entrance, now dressed in his fancy coat. Skrjagin admires himself but then notices the couples in the room.
Furious, Skrjagin accuses them of being thieves and liars. Milovid skillfully manipulates Skrjagin’s greed, offering to pawn some silverware for a high interest. Marfa tearfully insists she mistook Prolaz for Skrjagin due to her overwhelming love for him. Flattered, Skrjagin begs for her forgiveness but balks at her request for a loan. The countess gives him an ultimatum: either lend her twenty thousand rubles and marry her or never see her again.
Skrjagin, torn between love and greed, eventually decides to give the money, belonging to Lyubima, thinking he will have to return it to her eventually anyway. Skrjagin receives a trunk of gifts from the countess, further encouraging him. Prolaz signals Milovid, and Skrjagin appears with the money. Marfa takes the money and throws it to the liveried Milovid, who quickly leaves. When Skrjagin asks for a receipt, Marfa pretends to be ill.
Lyubima rushes in, fearing that she might learn about the money being given away. A scandal erupts as Skrjagin discovers gibberish instead of a proper receipt. Marfa reveals that the money was given to Milovid for their marriage, as they have loved each other for a long time. Skrjagin refuses to consent, but Milovid presents a court order, freeing Lyubima from Skrjagin’s guardianship and returning her inheritance to her.
Skrjagin, realizing that the countess is just Milovid’s servant and that there are no caravans, is devastated and curses the clever tricksters.
