¹ Several new books treat various facets of Silver Age theatre and drama, and all, to greater or lesser degrees, reinforce this point of view. In Modernism to Realism on the Soviet Stage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), Nick Worrell focuses on Tairov, Vakhtangov, and Okhlopkov, but insists that Stanislavski deserves the lion's share of the credit for establishing the tradition of theatre “as a high-minded moral and educative form.” Jean Benedetti recently published a new biography of Stanislavsky. Although the recent anthology, Russian Theatre in the Age of Modernism, edited by Robert Russell and Andrew Barratt (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1990), treats both familiar and lesser known figures, there is not a single woman among them.

² Women have, for the most part, been erased from Western histories of Russian theatre, and many Slavic scholars accept neither feminist approaches to historiography, nor even the idea that women have done anything worthy of serious consideration. Although Slavic and Eastern European disciplines are particularly hostile, erasure is widespread and cross-cultural. Many articles and a few books are available to readers interested in issues surrounding gender and theatre. Those wanting an introduction to the issues should see, Davis, Tracy C., “Questions for a Feminist Methodology in Theatre History,” in Interpreting the Theatrical Past: Essays in the Historiography of Performance, ed. Postlewait, Thomas and McConachie, Bruce A. (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1989), 59–81Google Scholar; Case, Sue-Ellen, Feminism and Theatre (New York: Methuen, 1988)CrossRefGoogle Scholar; and Ferris, Lesley, Acting Women (New York: New York University Press, 1989).Google Scholar

³ “Art theatre” is an ambiguous term, but for the purposes of this essay, an art theatre is defined by its financial autonomy, the nature of its repertoire, and the stated intentions of the directors to reexamine traditional production methods and conventions.

⁴ Not only were these genres popular with audiences, but actors themselves tended to encourage the low tastes of the spectators by avoiding serious works. Their relationship to Ostrovski is particularly interesting. Although Ostrovski's reputation was growing, actors . deliberately performed his plays poorly so that the management would not put them in the repertoire. This may have been because Ostrovski's plays require ensemble performance, and most actors, especially those in the Imperial theatres, were hostile to ensemble playing. This idea is developed in “Russkaia Dramaticheskai Stsena,” Vestnik Evropy, 1871, 389. (All translations are my own.)

⁵ Slavophiles advocated drama that emphasized native values and traditions; Westernizers encouraged further assimilation of Western European ideas and traditions.

⁶ According to Laurence Senelick, “The French term ‘regisseur’ first appeared in Russian in Maykov's 1825 rules and regulations, where it designated the administrator formerly known as Inspector of the Troupe; he was to have complete authority over production and cast, rehearsals, discipline, and Finished production. In practice, the Russian ‘regisseur’ was a glorified stage manager, who had to deal with the day-to-day tasks that were beneath the attention of a bureaucratic administrator. Although some authors, among them Gogol', Turgenev, and Ostrovsky, took a keen interest in the mounting of their plays, this was generally the task of the ‘regisseur’. As in Central Europe, the term eventually came to be applied to the stage director, so that the two functions, total artistic control and physical mise-en-scene, became invested in one individual.” See “Russia, 1812–1898,” in National Theatre in Northern and Eastern Europe, 1746–1900, edited by Laurence Senelick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 359.

⁷ Vesmik Evropy, 389.

⁸ Ibid.., 384. The author suggests that, given the management system, it is astonishing that the theatre is as good as it is (which is not very good).

⁹ It must, however, be acknowledged that the quality of provincial theatres varied. In major cities like Kiev and Kharkov, theatre flourished because audiences had more urban tastes and local governments supported the theatres. In general, the more remote the theatre was from a large population center, the poorer was its quality. For a complete account of prerevolu tionary provincial theatre, see Istoria Russhogo Dramaticheskogo Teatro, edited by Kholodov, E. G., vols. 5–7 (Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1980–87).Google Scholar

¹⁰ For readers interested in the delights and horrors of the pre-revotutionary provincial theatre, several memoirs are available (unfortunately, none have been translated). Among the most interesting are: Velizarii, Maria, Put' Provintsial'noi Alarisy (Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1938)Google Scholar; Russkyi Provintsial'nyi Tetar: Vospominanla (Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1937); and Giliarovski, V.A., Liudi Teatra (Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1941).Google ScholarNational Theatre in Northern and Eastern Europe (note 6 above) also contains primary documents concerning provincial theatre.

¹¹ Vestnik Evropy, 382.

¹² Istoria Russkogo Dramaticheskogo Teatro, vol. 5, 232–252. Although many historians do not distinguish the various types of performances that took place outside the Imperial theatres, Ostrovski categorized them as club stages, private theatres, and amateur performances. Attempts in Moscow to establish alternatives to the Imperial system began in 1861 with two organizations: The “Amateur Circle of Dramatic Art” and the Kras-novorot Theatre. Ostrovski himself opened the Articheskii Kruzhok in 1865, and during the 1870s, several club stages flourished. Interest in alternatives to the Imperial theatres was widespead among progressive playwrights and actors. The professional writers and critics who often led the groups that appeared before 1882 tended to be more interested in staging new plays than in exploring new production methods, and they were mostly concerned with the art, rather than the business, of theatre. Although Ostrovski was involved with various club stages and led the opposition to the monopoly, he was extremely critical of the various amateur efforts to create alternative theatres in Moscow and St. Petersburg, almost to the point of hostility to the ventures. See Ostrovski, A.N., “Klubnie Stsenyi, Chastnye Teatry, i Liubitelskie Spektakli,” in Polnoe Sobranie Sochinenii, vol. 10 (Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1978), 114–125).Google Scholar

¹³ “Theatre Near the Statue of Pushkin” was first used because the theatre was located near a newly-erected statue of Pushkin. I assume that Pushkin's name (and statue) was more familiar to most potential spectators than Brenko's.

¹⁴ Iur'ev, Iuri, Zapiski (Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1938), 66.Google Scholar

¹⁵ Istorii, 253.

¹⁶ Vitenzon, R., Anna Brtnko (Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1985), 18Google Scholar, and A.A. Brenko, “Avtobiografiya,” Gosudarstvennyi Tsentral'nyi Muzei im. A.A. Bakhrushina, 1–2.

¹⁷ “Avtobiografyia,” 6.

¹⁸ Ibid., 4.

¹⁹ Given the revisionist tendencies of Soviet history, it is difficult to judge how left wing any pre-revolutionary theatre might have been. After the Revolution, many theatres (including the MAT) “revised” their histories in an effort to make themselves seem more progressive than they actually were at the time. In Brenko's case, it is certainly true that she was an active supporter of leftist causes later in life, and in Liudi Teatra, VA. Giliarovski noted that a particularly notorious “revolutionary” with pamphlets hanging out of his pockets loitered around the theatre with Andreev-Burlak, but whether her work at the Pushkin was motivated by a strong desire to educate “the people” or influenced by left-wing ideology is, in my mind, doubtful. For a useful account of the genuine people's and workers’ theatres that arose in the 1890s, see Thurston, Gary, “The Impact of Russian Popular Theatre, 1886–1915,” Journal of Modem History 55 (June 1983): 237–267.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

²⁰ Brenko's tastes and objectives may reflect her unusual education. Legend has it that Brenko was the first actress to attend the “vyshie zhenskie kursi” (higher women's courses), which were offered at the University in St. Petersburg. If this is true, she was certainly an anomaly among actresses. It is odd that, although the Teatral'naia Ent-siklopedia, Istoria Russkogo Dramaticheskogo Teatra, and Ocherki po Istorii Russkogo Dramaticheskogo Teatra all agree that Brenko attended the higher women's courses, her biographer, R. Vitenzon, challenges the idea that Brenko was the first actress to receive a higher education and offers elaborate “proof (deductive rather than documented) that she could not possibly have been in St. Petersburg at this time.

²¹ “Avtobiografiya,” 3.

²² Vitenzon, 26–27.

²³ Maslikh, V., “Pamiati A.A. Brenko,” Teatr (April 1966): 107.Google Scholar

²⁴ Vitenzon, 28. Critics took notice of Brenko's activities and an interesting connection develops between the Pushkin Theatre and the MAT when, beginning in 1879, Moscow University student Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko began contributing positive articles about Brenko's theatre to Russkii Kur'er and Budil'nik. It is also true that, although Nemirovich praised Brenko's progressive repertoire, he was often critical of the way the plays were produced. Perhaps Brenko took Nemirovich's observations seriously, because after 1880 the Pushkin began to emphasize the ensemble.

²⁵ “Avtobiografiya,” 4.

²⁶ Ibid., 6–7. Brenko obtained permission under the name of her maid's brother. According to her own account, she did this because “I was afraid to obtain the permit since I served on the Imperial stage.” She did, however, retain power of attorney.

²⁷ Ibid., 7.

²⁸ Giliarovskii, V.A., Portretyi [Portraits] (Moskva: Moskovskii Rabochii, 1960), 422.Google Scholar See also Glama-Meshcherskaia, A., Vospominania [Memoirs] (Moskva: Iskusstvo, 1937).Google Scholar Unlike the MAT's Savva Morozov, who took an active role in the daily life of the theatre, Malkiel' was virtually invisible. Glama reports that, although he maintained an office at the Pushkin, she saw him only once at a party given at the theatre.

²⁹ Giliarovskii, 423.

³⁰ Glama-Meshcherskaia, 132

³¹ Ibid. Glama was overwhelmed by her first impression of the dressing rooms because the usual situation for provincial actors was so depressing. In her memoirs of the provincial stage, Maria Velizarii describes conditions under which most modern actors would simply refuse to work. Interested readers should peruse these memoirs (note 9 above) for information about the lives of provincial actors.

³² Giliarovski, 423.

³³ Glama-Meshcherskaia, 169. Glama tells two revealing stories about actors' salaries at the Pushkin. When she was first offered a position there, she was a young, virtually unknown provincial actor who was just beginning to establish a reputation. Although Glama does not mention the exact amount she was offered, apparently she saw no necessity to negotiate her first contract, because Brenko offered her so much more than she had ever received in the past. Later, without Glama's even having to ask, Brenko gave her a substantial raise. Of course, the fact that Glama was Pisarev's second wife may have been a factor in her good fortune. Giliarovski, however, confirms Brenko's generous nature, and although this facet of her personality may have contributed to her reputation as a poor manager, it certainly impressed the actors.

³⁴ Ibid., 132.

³⁵ Danilov, S.S., Ocherki po Istorii Russkogo Dramaticheskogo Teatra (Moskva: Iskusstvo, 1948), 422.Google Scholar Provincial director Nikolai Sinel'nikov, who worked primarily in the 1890s, is often credited with introducing the notion of ensemble performance, but Brenko understood the desirability of ensemble playing: “Along with solving problems with the repertoire, the theatre's leadership had to try to unite this variegated mass of provincial actors into a unified, creative collective, to teach them to work systematically and inventively, and to achieve ‘artistic discipline.’ If the Pushkin Theatre did not completely solve the problems, it took the first steps” (Istoria Russkogo Dramaticheskogo Teatra, vol. 5, 255).

³⁶ Glama-Meshcherskaia, 167.

³⁷ Ibid., 162.

³⁸ Ibid., 164. A “tovarichestvo” is literally an actors’ collective in which each actor contributes money to support the enterprise. These often unstable organizations rarely lasted more than a single season and were most common in the provinces.

³⁹ It is questionable whether or not Andreev-Burlak took his administrative responsibilities seriously. After all, this was an actor who, although possessing considerable talent, could not bother to memorize lines. In addition, Brenko relates a telling incident. Burlak was supposed to negotiate with the architect, Mikhail Chichagov, and assist the builders, but as often as not, both he and Chichagov “went hunting,” leaving Brenko “to work alone with the foreman.” See “Avtobiografiya,” 7.

⁴⁰ Glama-Meshcherskaia, 132.

⁴¹ Ibid. 167. Glama's observation is particularly interesting in light of the fact that the “long run” did not become popular in Russian theatre until after the turn of the century. The Imperial theatres, in particular, maintained enormous repertoires which included not only full length plays, but one-acts, vaudevilles, and all kinds of short, comic sketches.

⁴² The extended rehearsals associated with the MAT were a later development and were very controversial within the company itself. Nemirovich became extremely impatient with Stanislavski's apparent need to rehearse certain productions for a year or more. When Stanislavski was working at the Society of Art and Literature, twenty rehearsals was considered “thorough preparation.” Brenko was at least as thorough. For an excellent account of the MAT and its predecessors, see Benedetti, Jean, Stanislavski: A Biography (New York: Routledge, 1988).Google Scholar Vitenzon, 51.

⁴⁴ Quoted in Vitenzon, 52.

⁴⁵ See note 6 above. Brenko can be considered a regisseur at the Pushkin only in terms of the earlier definition, “glorified stage manager.” Her post-Pushkin work is more consistent with the Wagnerian concept of a master artist who has complete artistic control.

⁴⁶ Several female entrepreneurs (including Maria Abramova, Elizaveta Goreva, and Vera Kommissarzhevskaia) who followed Brenko also employed male directors. One might well ask whether this was problematic, since most of these entrepreneurs were strong-willed, independent artists who had their own ideas about theatre aesthetics and methods of production. Female directors were rare in Russia, and it is tempting to speculate that female-managed enterprises might have fared better if the entrepreneurs had also been directors.

⁴⁷ Glama was, of course, Pisarev's wife and may, for that reason, have felt that her husband was the legitimate “artistic director.”

⁴⁸ Iur'cv, 64. Iur'ev's rhetoric reminds us that these memoirs were published during a period of intense repression. For that reason, they do not offer a particularly objective, level-headed point of view.

⁴⁹ Istoria, vol. 6, 510–516.

⁵⁰ The benefit system severely hindered entrepreneurs who wished to institute a more progressive repertoire. As part of their contract, principal players were given the right to choose plays for benefit performances which would highlight their own talents. These actors, who were primarily concerned with vehicles for themselves, rarely demonstrated much artistic conscience when selecting benefit plays. Given the gifts and large amounts of extra money they received from benefits, it is hardly surprising that they chose the more popular, and therefore more mindless, plays. In the face of this tradition, it is to Brenko's credit that she maintained a relatively strong repertoire.

⁵¹ Istoria, vol. 5, 257. Brenko wanted to attract students to the Pushkin Theatre. In order to do so, “the artistic council established Sunday and holiday matinees at reduced prices. As a rule, Ostrovski and the classics were played at the matinees.”

⁵² Russtkii Kur'er (Moscow) 13 Nov. 1880; quoted in Ocherki Istorii Russkoi Teatral'noi Kritiki, edited by Altshuler, A. la. (Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1976), 293.Google Scholar

⁵³ Ibid., 297.

⁵⁴ Ibid., 118.

⁵⁵ Ibid., 221.

⁵⁶ Ostrovski, , Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, 124.Google Scholar Ostrovski's relationship to the Pushkin is not, however, without ambiguity. In the same essay, he wrote that there was no observable system to the theatre's management, that discipline was negligible, and that the productions left much to be desired. For several reasons, his opinions are suspect. First, neither Glama-Meshcherskaia nor Giliarovski, both of whom were much closer to the Pushkin than Ostrovski, support his observations. Second, Danilov and Istoria Russkogo Dramaticheskogo Teatro take the opposite point of view. Third, in this essay, Ostrovski is venting his wrath on Russian theatre as a whole. Fourth, Brenko invited him to participate in Pushkin productions—indeed, Ostrovski very successfully staged the fust uncut version of his own play, “Svoi Liudi—Sochtemsia,” at the Pushkin in 1881. Was there personal animosity here? A letter from the actor Sadovski to Ostrovski suggests that neither man had much fondness for Brenko. When the theatre and all its properties went up for auction, Brenko managed to obtain a brief delay. One might expect some sympathy from Sadovski and Ostrovski for Brenko's position, but the former simply writes: “Here is the kind of trick necessity leads to.” See Ostrovski, A.N., Dnevnik i Pis'ma, edited by Filtppov, VI. (Moscow: Academia, 1937), 168.Google Scholar

⁵⁷ Glama-Meshcherskaia, 163.

⁵⁸ Iur'ev, 67. This is an interesting observation from Iur'ev, since earlier he wrote that the Pushkin tried to avoid the pernicious influence of the Mali Theatre.

⁵⁹ Giliarovski, 418–425.

⁶⁰ Ibid., 423424.

⁶¹ Maslikh, 108.

⁶² Glama-Mcshcheiskaia, 174.

⁶³ Brcnko, Anna, Sovremennyi Liud (Moskva: Obshchestva Russkikh Dramaticheskikh Pisatelei, 1883).Google Scholar The play was actually published under Brenko's pseudonym, A.A. Levenson. As in other countries, it was much easier for women to publish under male pseudonyms.

⁶⁴ Vitenzon, 105.

⁶⁵ Ibid., 106. It is clear that Korsh profited from Brenko's efforts. The Korsh Theatre became one of the most successful commercial theatres after the abolition of the monopoly. But, as one historian observed, Korsh had no theatrical experience and his “position was greatly eased by the fact that he received a prepared troupe, welded together by two years of united work at Brenko's theatre, and a good, smoothly functioning, approved repertoire.” See Istoria, vol. 6, 241.

⁶⁶ “Avtobiografiya,” 11.

⁶⁷ Quoted in Vitenzon, 85.

⁶⁸ The irony is that Brenko was forced to close only a few short months before the abolition of the monopoly would have given her legal status. But, according to her memoirs, Brenko was actually granted this status in 1881. On one of her many trips to St. Petersburg on behalf of her theatre, Brenko was told by Vorontsov, a minister of the court who negotiated for her with the government, that she had received permission to make the Pushkin a fully legal theatrical enterprise. She went back to Moscow to await written notice, which she never received. Instead, she was notified three weeks later that permission had been refused. She raced back to St. Petersburg, where she discovered that a certain Baron Kister had obstructed her request, even though Czar Alexander himself had approved it. Although he has none of the details, I.M. Kondratev, in a letter to Ostrovski, confirms that Brenko actually obtained fully legal status for her theatre in the summer of 1881, but that Baron Kister put a stop to her aspirations. See “Avtobiografiya,” 10; Ostrovski, , Polnoe Sobranoe Sochinemi, 28.Google Scholar

⁶⁹ Vitenzon, 102.

⁷⁰ Ibid., 76. Vitenzon relates a revealing story about Brenko's problems with male actors. There was competition for the leading role in Kruchina (Sorrow). Several actors demanded the role, and, rather than choosing one of them, Brenko gave in to threats and allowed all of them to rehearse it, giving her final decision only half an hour before the opening. At that point, it was decided that Andreev-Burlak would play the premiere, the second performance would be with Kozelski, and the remaining actors would play the part in turn. Perhaps Brenko's desire to create a democratic ensemble kept her from taking decisive measures. Perhaps she simply could not control the men who were supposed to help her create a new theatre.

⁷¹ “Avtobiografiya,” 12. Although this remark may seem a bit condescending, especially to contemporary feminists, I feel sure Stanislavski's intentions were good and Brenko was clearly very flattered.