Undine‚ Melusine‚ Donauweibchen‚ Rusalka: the water spirit‚ and her doomed love for a mortal‚ haunted Europe in the first years of the 19th century‚ surfacing from beneath the waves of the subconscious in different countries and different guises. As a ‘rusalka’‚ she beguiled Slavonic nations‚ where she might be a sorrowing victim‚ as she was to become in Dvo·ák’s opera or‚ in northern versions‚ vengeful and destroying. Dargomïzhsky‚ taking his text closely from Pushkin‚ has her as a miller’s daughter‚ betrayed by a Prince who feels compelled to make a more noble marriage. When in her despair she throws herself into the Dniepr‚ she becomes a rusalka‚ then lures the Prince to the river bank‚ where he encounters their child and is hurled by the frenzied miller into the waters to join mother and daughter. The work was first performed in St Petersburg in 1856‚ and continues to turn up in Russia from time to time‚ though less often in the West. The British première (with Slobodskaya and Chaliapin in one of his favourite roles as the Miller) was not until 1931‚ and there was what sounds like rather a chaotic production in Wexford as recently as 1997. As to recordings: there were two in Russia in the 1950s‚ under Vasily Nebolsin and Yevgeny Svetlanov‚ but they could only be found by assiduous collectors in Collet’s or similar outlets. This 1983 recording is the first to be readily available here. It is well worth attention for anyone interested in Russian opera. Many elements of the genre come together‚ sometimes setting an example for much that was to follow. Natasha‚ as Dargomïzhsky christens the rusalka‚ tends to have Italianate lines‚ at any rate before they are drowned in the folksy river; Natalia Mikhailova is a little overbearing with these‚ though she sings nicely the song from afar intervening in the Prince’s wedding (a familiar Romantic operatic gesture). The Prince has even more Italian blood in his veins‚ and Konstantin Pluzhnikov does not deny it as he caresses his farewell Cavatina to Natasha. There is also a touch of the south from the Princess‚ a little drily characterised by Galina Pisarenko. The Miller (originally sung by Osip Petrov‚ founder of the great line of Russian operatic basses) shakes off any Italianism early‚ and he has the most remarkable scene in the opera‚ as he lurches in‚ demented by grief into believing that he has become a raven‚ and Dargomïzhsky writes for him graphic harmony and speech­influenced lines of a kind that were to colour his later Stone Guest as well as much in Mussorgsky. This is splendidly done by Alexander Vedernikov. There is also a highly original use of melodrama for the rusalochka‚ the couple’s little daughter‚ very cleverly spoken by young Vasilissa Belova‚ luring the Prince towards the waters. The Russian choruses and dances which intervene do not advance the drama much‚ but are colourful enough‚ with rustic heartiness and some attractive use of folk polyphony. The styles‚ in short‚ are very mixed. But if Dargomïzhsky had not yet found a way of making his idiom cohere‚ this is a remarkable and enjoyable opera‚ and Fedoseyev conducts with plenty of vigour. It is worth putting up with a recording of moderate quality‚ provided one can also put up with very poor documentation. There is only a Russian text‚ without translation‚ and the brief‚ inadequate synopsis is in an ‘English’ which‚ for instance‚ tells us that when the Prince rides up‚ ‘the horsy stamp is leading Natasha out from her thoughts’. Despite this carelessness for listeners’ needs‚ one can recommend the issue‚ as the synopsis has it‚ ‘with simple but slightly harsh straightness’.