Recent surveys of theatre theory and historiography have given only very limited attention to a critical episode in the organization, development and legitimation of modern theatre scholarship, the Theaterwissenschaft writings of German-language theorists of theatre study in the first half of the twentieth century. I propose to survey briefly the major moments in this group's emergence, characterize the theoretical approaches associated with some principal figures in the group, outline something of their influence (or reception), and make a few suggestions about their importance for further study. Their work has been undergoing a steady re-appraisal in the contemporary German theatre academy, and some members of the group, like Hans Knudsen and Artur Kutscher, were sufficiently self-conscious about the process of institution-building that their own history has itself been subject to historiographic comment. Consequently I will offer some German reconsiderations of the structure and significance of the field where they seem appropriate. Though there is some sense in the current American construction of this group as “positivist,” the label does not quite acknowledge the variety of theatre theories in which their relatively adequate theory of empirical evidence can be applied, nor does it do justice to the group's interest in theatre as a social phenomenon. The work of the group is so varied in relation to its empirical basis, and so involved in the emerging discourses of sociology, anthropology, and psychology, that it gives us reason to doubt any narrow construction of the theatre-historical tradition as theoretically naive or one-dimensional.

In 1882, Walter Besant declared that the hinterland beyond Aldgate had two million people yet “no institutions of their own to speak of, no public buildings of any importance, no municipality, no gentry, no carriages, no soldiers, no picture-galleries, no theatres, no opera—they have nothing.” The fact that Whitechapel first appeared in the theatrical annals in 1557, Stepney contained several of the largest engineering projects in Regency London, and Shoreditch's Britannia was one of the most successful theatres in Victorian Britain belies the prejudice in Besant's statement. Cultural historians of all types need to resist such propaganda and have good cause to suspect the entire record of life, leisure, and entertainment in the industrialized inner suburbs. The history of nineteenth-century English theatre has—with very few exceptions—focussed on London, yet apart from essays by Michael Booth and Clive Barker little serious attention has been paid to theatre in the East End. Booth points out the limitations arising from scholarship that ignores the area where half of the metropolitan theatre seats were located, while Barker shows the methodological difficulties that arise once a redressive investigation into the audience is undertaken. The omissions from the historical record are compounded by narrow selectivity of enquiries: leading performers receive scholarly attention while supernumeraries (supers), ballet dancers, front of house staff, property makers, and the many functionaries who made up the whole community responsible for running a theatre are consistently neglected. These characteristics are somehow more evident in scholarship on the East End, where no matter how sociogeographically biased the enquirers may be the working class and its conditions are central themes, and the repertoire has always been allowed (perhaps stereotyped) as sensational.

Along with Robert Edmond Jones, Norman Bel Geddes, and Lee Simonson, Joseph Urban brought the New Stagecraft to America in the 1920s. No other designer of his period lavished more lush color on the stage or brought scene design closer to the level his contemporaries called “Art.” Urban produced the backdrops of the famous Follies for Florenz Ziegfeld, and the Metropolitan Opera continued to use his sets for more than two decades after his death. As early as 1917 the New York Times risked the prediction that “when the historian of the New York stage writes the record, of the uplift of the art of its decoration received in the teens of the twentieth century he will have to give the greatest credit to Joseph Urban.” Instead, he has been virtually ignored: for example, Brockett and Findlay in their history of the modern theatre, Century of Innovation, fail to mention Urban at all. In view of his extensive design record it is surprising that he remains so little known.

Although history and culture are now being read from below, dramatic texts are still being read from above: critical scrutiny persistently favors the articulate principal characters of a play over the minor figures with whose muted assistance great words and deeds are performed. My intention is to compensate for the neglect by decentering the dominant characters and concentrating instead on the minor and mute roles in the margins of Shakespeare's King Lear, and the way they were “doubled,” among the supporting players. While taking note of the principal roles, I will focus upon the smaller parts and walk-ons. The questions I will address are three: What was the fewest number of players needed to accommodate all the parts of King Lear? How were the minor roles distributed among the available players? What conclusions can be derived from doubling patterns concerning the structure of the companies?

In 1594, as stability was about to return to the London stage after several years of disruption, a company under the patronage of the fifth Earl of Sussex played two brief engagements at Philip Henslowe's theatre, the Rose. Historians of the Elizabethan stage have had little to say about Sussex's men, for although the company appears fairly regularly in performance records of the 1590s, and although Henslowe's Diary lists their day-by-day repertory for a few weeks in 1594, their plays do not seem to have formed an important part of the Elizabethan drama (only George a Greene survives as a piece attributable solely to Sussex's men), and their personnel do not seem to have aroused sufficient interest to leave any record of an actor's name after 1576. Yet there may be a story to tell about Sussex's men after all. If we look closely at their repertory of 1594, keeping in mind the affairs of other companies at this time, we can see that the Sussex company may have briefly included some of the most important figures of the Elizabethan theatre.