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Public myth and private self in the Russian Silver Age: The correspondence of Vera Kommissarzhevskaia (1864-1910)

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Public myth and private self in the Russian Silver Age: The correspondence of Vera Kommissarzhevskaia (1864-1910)

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Content INFORMATION TO USERS This manusaîpt has been reproduced from the microfilm master. U M I films the text directly from the original or copy submitted. Thus, some tfiesis and dissertation copies are in typewriter face, while others may t>e from any type of computer printer. The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. Broken or indistinct print, colored or poor quality illustrations and photographs, print bleedthrough, substandard margins, and improper alignment can adversely affect reproduction. In the unlikely event that the author did not send UM I a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, tfiese w ill t>e noted. Also, if unauthorized copyright material had to t>e removed, a note w ill indicate tfie deletion. Oversize materials (e.g., maps, drawings, charts) are reproduced by sectioning the original, beginning at the upper left-hand comer and continuing from left to right in equal sections with small overlaps. 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P u b lic M y th a n d P r i v a t e S e l f in t h e R u s s ia n S i l v e r A g e : T h e C o r r e s p o n d e n c e o f V e r a K o m m is s a r z h e v s k a ia (1864- 1910) By Karen Lisa Myers A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For the Degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Slavic Languages and Literatures August, 1999 © 1999 Karen Lisa Myers R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. UMI Number 9955055 UMI UMI Microform9955055 Copyright 2000 by Bell & Howell Information and Leaming Company. All rights reserved. This microform edition is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code. Bell & Howell Information and Leaming Company 300 North Zeeb Road P.O. 00x1346 Ann Arbor, M l 48106-1346 R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY PARK LOS ANGELES. CALIFORNIA 90007 This dissertation, zoritten by under the direction of h ,C X i— Dissertation Committee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by The Graduate School in partial fulfillment of re- quirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Dean of C ndiute Studies Date igR9 DISSERTATION COMMITTEE Omirpman R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. u In Memory of Andrea Moyer ars longa vita brevis R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. U1 T a ble o f C o n t e n t s Acknowledgments iv Notes to the Reader vii Preface viii Chapter One. Public vs. Private Personae: The Personal Letter as Cultural Artefact 1 Chapter Two. The New Russian Woman: Kommissarzhevskaia’s Life and Work 43 Chapter Three. Actress as Writer 125 Chapter Four. Symbolist Eidolon: The Kommissarzhevskaia-B riusov Correspondence 165 Chapter Five. “The Seagull of the Russian Stage” as fem m e fragile: Kommissarzhevskaia and Anton Chekhov 213 Chapter Six. The Jeanne d’Arc Complex: Actress as Militant Martyr 266 Chapter Seven. Conclusion 3 11 Selected Bibliography 322 R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. IV A c k n o w l e d g m e n t s I owe the impetus for my research on Vera Kommissarzhevskaia to John Bowk, my mentor at the University o f Southern California, Department o f Slavic Languages and Literatures. I am sincerely gratefiil for his advice and patience over the years, and this dissertation is a tribute to his support. At u s e I also had the privilege o f working with Sharon Camicke, School of Theater, who guided my study o f Russian theater with great encouragement and enthusiasm. I also owe a debt o f thanks to USC Slavic Department faculty Marcus Levitt; Sarah Pratt; Thomas Seifrid, chair; Alek Zholkovsky, and especially Olga Matich, for aiding my research and intellectual development. Gloria Orenstein, Department of Comparative Literature, raised provocative questions during the dissertation defense, and I am pleased to have had her serve on my Ph.D. committee. Administrators, archive associates, and librarians at Russian and American institutions immeasurably assisted my efforts. Staff at the Bakhrushin State Theater Museum Archives Moscow (GTsTM) provided me with necessary manuscripts as well as hot tea and sandwiches during my long hours in the archive; the knowledgeable archi vists at the St. Petersburg State Theater and Music Museum (SPbGMT i MI) and the Russian National Library (GNB) accommodated my requests with great consideration, as did staff at the State Theater Library, St. Petersburg (GTE); the Russian State Library, Moscow (RGB); Russian State Literature and Art Archives, Moscow (RGALI); the Russian Institute of History o f the Arts (RIH); the Russian State Historical Archives, R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. St. Petersburg (RGIA); the Harvard University Pewcy Library Theater Collection, and the Columbia University BakhmeteflT Archive. Over the years I spent researching and writing this dissertation, I consulted with many scholars in the U S and abroad. Foremost I would like to thank Laurence Senelick for his advice during the dissertation’s formative development, and Vadim Kreyd and Kathryn Henry, who provided invaluable textual feedback during the early stages o f writing. Consultations with art historians Nina Gourianova and Dmitrii Sarab’ianov; literature scholars Lars Kleberg, Nikolai Kotrelov, Rudolf Duganov; theater scholars Inna Solov’eva, Boris Brodsky, and many others during my 1993-94 archival research in Russia augmented my knowledge of the Modernist period. O f special mention are luliia Rybakova and (the late) Anatolii Al'tshuller, who during the course o f lengthy kitchen chats made available their time and expertise and also shared with me the manuscript V.F. Kommissarzhevskaia. L etopis’ zhizni i tvorchestva prior to publication. I also wish to state my appreciation for the many professional and personal associates who likewise made this experience enjoyable and productive. During the dissertation’s final stages in 1996-97, Wakio Fujimoto, Dean, Gradu ate School of Language and Culture, Osaka University, and Professor Shiro Sasaki, National Museum o f Ethnology (Japan), contributed to my appreciation of cultural perspective by providing me with an invaluable opportunity to conduct research in Japan and meet Japanese scholars of Russian culture. Faculty and staff at many different institutions were extremely gracious and hospitable. Eminent Professor Kaori Kawabata (Chubu University) and Tomiko Yanagi (Waseda University) offered informative com- R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. VI ments and suggestions; Yasuko Tanaka (Osaka University o f Foreign Studies) and Takayuki Murakami (Osaka University) were extremely generous with their time and energetically helped me to better acclimate to my new surroundings; Tetsuo Mochizuki (Slavic Research Center, Hokkaido University) made the SRC library collection available to me, and talks with Russian theater scholar Yasushi Nagata (Osaka Univer sity) resulted in many interesting ideas for further projects. I am honored to have been able to consult with these individuals in their home environment. Research was initially funded by a University o f Southern California dissertation fellowship during 1992-93. Research for this dissertation was also supported in part by a grant from the International Research & Exchanges Board (IREX), with funds provided by the National Endowment for the Humanities, the United States Department of State, which administers the Russian, Eurasia, and East European Research Program (Title VIII), and the United States Informational Agency Regional Scholars Exchange Program. None of these organizations is responsible for the views expressed. Working papers based on the dissertation were presented at conferences in the U.S. and abroad; 1990 IREX Moscow State University Teachers’ Conference; 1995 and 1996 AATSEEL conferences, and Osaka University, 1997. My final words of thanks are for my wonderful parents, who have been a constant source o f faith and encouragement, and Scott Schnell, whose humanist world view and dedication to scholarship enrich my life. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. vu N o t e s t o t h e R e a d e r References for texts most often cited are simplified, as ft>liows: Letters A. Al’tshuller, red. Vera Fedorovna Komissarzhevskaia. Pis’ma aktrisy Vospominaniia o nei. Materialy. Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1964. Chronicle lu. Rybakova. V.F. Komissarzhevskaia. Letopis’ zhizni i tvorchestva. St. Petersburg, RHI, 1994. Also abbreviated in the text are: Chekhov PSSP Chekhov, A. Polnoe sobranie sochinenii i pisem. Moscow, Nauka. Vol. VI 1978; Vol. VÜ 1979; Vol. VHI 1980; Vol. XI 1982, Vol. X n 1983. Stanislavsky Stanislavsky, K. Sobrannye sochinenii v deviati tomakh Moscow, Iskusstvo. Vol. V n 1995, Vol. VHI 1998. Transliteration follows the Library of Congress system, except for established variants (e.g., Stanislavsky). All translations are my own, except where noted. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. VUI Public Myth and Private Self in the Russian Silver Age: The Correspondence o f Vera Kommissarzhevskaia (1864-1910) Preface During and after her lifetime, the early twentieth-century actress-entrepreneur Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia was the object of contradictory mythologization. Symbolist poets like Aleksandr Blok idealized her as the “youth o f these last, cra^, terrible but wonderful years.” Conservative critic Aleksandr Kugef further bolstered the actress’s identity with the younger generation and, conversely, with the marker of conservative attitudes towards female social behavior, by dubbing her the “fragile child of her time.” Kommissarzhevskaia was the “lyrical note” on the Russian stage, yet her voice also “echoed the world orchestra” (Blok). Like a prescient mystic, the actress was eulogized as the “unfurled banner of a promised Spring” (Blok). But the determination with which she advocated theater reformation likened her to a “Joan o f Arc” (Osip Mandel’shtam); her tours were “Religious Processions” (Aleksandr Serebrov) and her talent and conviction “led her to Golgotha” (Nikolai Evreinov). This varied typology was founded on a complex base composed o f the actress’s personal and professional ideology, cultural modeling, and her audiences’ aesthetic and political orientation. In this dissertation, I analyze the conflict between public and private representations of the self, based on a study o f the actress’s personal letters: the fundamental object o f inquiry is to determine to what extent Kommissarzhevskaia R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. IX directed her own-myth making or commodification. I proceed with an analysis contrasting discourse and thematic concerns found in the actress's epistolary self representations with three primary public images: the Symbolist Eidolon, the fem m e fragile^ the militant martyr. I argue that Kommissarzhevskaia's personal letters can be seen as cultural artefacts: self-reflexive women’s writing that encapsulates the period's dominant literary impulses, social themes, and aesthetic preoccupations through the experience of the individual. The dissertation contributes to the fields of early twentieth century Russian literary analysis, theater history and cultural studies, and women's studies. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. I desire a mysterious art, always rem inding and half-rem inding those who understand it o f dearly loved things, doing its w ork by suggestion, not by direct statement, a com plexity o f rhythm , color, gesture, not space-pervading like the intellect but a memory and a prophesy. -W illiam Bittler Yeats '‘ A P eople's Theatre " The Irish Statesman. 1919. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. Chapter I. Public vs. Private Persona: the Personal Letter as Cultural Artefact Theater historian lulia Rybakova encapsulated the fundamental significance o f Russian actress and theater entrepreneur Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia (1864- 1910) when she wrote, ‘T h e biography o f Kommissarzhevskaia is inseparable fi"om the biography o f her time”* (Rybakova 1964:11). Truly, no other early twentieth-century Russian actress’s aspirations so closely replicated the transient mood o f her day, and certainly none has been as mythologized by poets, critics, and scholars to the present. For these theorists, Kommissarzhevskaia has been the proving ground for a plethora o f diverse images: the paragon offemininity. Symbolist muse; aesthetic revolutionary; social visionary, ardent martyr. This dissertation addresses the disjuncture between the social construct o f a public figure and private images o f the self with Vera Kommissarzhevskaia as model for this study. However, my guiding principle is neither to replicate nor revise the patterns of mythologization that already surround Kommissarzhevskaia’s public constructs. Indeed, it would be futile to attempt to avert the distortion that occurs when historical personages, once transformed into public figures, become signifiers “deprived o f their history, changed into gestures,” as Barthes writes. Thus condensed to a “speech wholly at the service o f the concept” (Barthes 1972), the individual is reduced to a set o f *EHorpa(piiH B epu «PeqopoBHhi KoMHCcapxceBCKoii HeoraejmMa o r ôHorpacpHH ee anoxH. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 modifiers which advance their creators’ ideologies. By comparing public versus private representations o f the self it is my goal to emphasize Kommissarzhevskaia’s own individual voice and present her life as one model of human experience during the Modernist period. This topic is especially pertinent to a discipline which within the last decade has begun to substantially reassess women’s contributions to Russian culture (e.g., Heldt 1987; Edmondson 1992; Kelly 1994; Ledkovsky et al. 1994, Schuler 1996). In my methodological approach, I examine the actress’s personal letters as an example of self-reflexive women’s writing. These texts also belong to the broad set of materials that informs our understanding of women’s expectations and self-fashioning during Russia’s Silver Age, and themes and discourse in these letters amply illustrate the conflicting impulses o f early-twentieth century Russian artistic and social life. As such, 1 offer these documents as cultural “artefacts” that provide information about the historical period through the experience or “hidden history” (Jolly 1997:9) of the individual. Kommissarzhevskaia has been the focus of many Russian studies on early twentieth-century theater, as the numerous bibliographic entries following this disserta tion should indicate. However, a sustained analysis of her life and work has yet to appear in the West, and the present study addresses this lack.^ In her day, Kommissarzhevskaia shared prominence with renowned actresses Mariia Ermoiova and Mariia Savina, and although a much less flamboyant personage than colleague theater entrepreneur Lidiia lavorskaia, Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theaters (1904-09) were acclaimed as St. Petersburg’s practical and theoretical cousin to Konstantin R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 Stanislavsky’s Moscow Art Theater/ A theater bearing the actress’s name still stands in her theater’s original location, and Kommissarzhevskaia’s place in history continues to be the subject of discussion and controversy among Russian scholars and popular audiences, and now Western scholars as well. Although lesser known in the West than her Russian contemporaries Stanislavsky and Alla Nazimova,^ in Russia the name Kommissarzhevskaia is synonymous with the transitional period in which she lived/ The mechanism o f image-making during Russia’s Silver Age was complex, and a unified symbolic representation for Kommissarzhevskaia’s personality and cultural relevance eluded contemporaries. Instead, the attempts of critics, biographers, and eulogizers resulted in a latitude o f attributes that ranged from indecisive, “fragile child” to zealous revolutionary, as indicated, above. In general, Kommissarzhevskaia’s correspondence is a repository for ‘voices’ of the period, and in it we find models o f the self that sometimes parallel and sometimes contradict these images. Basic questions help to frame our inquiry: Without benefit of autobiographical memoirs or diary, how can personal letters serve to reconstruct the private persona, and how does this repre- sentation(s) compare with its popularized manifestations? What were the cultural and philosophical impetuses for these varied images? Finally, how was Kommissarzhevskaia complicit in the making o f her own “legend,” as some contemporary scholars contend?® By means o f this approach I hope to show how an individual who created no lasting school, whose acting style remained fundamentally rooted in nineteenth-century melodrama, and whose entrepreneurial activities were a financial failure, could come to represent both the contemporary spirit and the future o f the Modernist period. I also R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 4 seek to place these letters as examples o f women’s self-writing. This approach hereto fore has been overlooked in the literature on Kommissarzhevskaia and provides the foundation from which I analyze the Kommissarzhevskaia legend. Until relatively recently, scholars sought generic definition in order to justify the study of personal letters. For some critics, the problem o f generic placement was solved by non-definition: fisr example, the early 19^-centuty familiar letter was an “elusive” genre because it defied categorization (Todd 1976). Acquiescing to traditional concepts of literariness, Redford (1968:8) noted that this type o f narrative writing was a “provocative marginal form that continues to suffer from critical neglect.” For scholars who shared this view, the “vexed issue of generic placement” accounted for a seeming lack o f interest in self-reflexive texts of this type.® However, this dilemma has not fhistrated the efforts o f feminist researchers investigating women’s epistolary self-expression, and due to their contributions, the once-marginalized object o f literary study has become the renewed focus of a scholar ship that places emphasis on cultural significance and practice over formal analysis. In addition to the manner in which we critically assess the personal letters o f cultural figures, the general parameters o f the subject of inquiry have also changed. Letters penned by women, and especially those written by non-professional writers, have begun to be studied for their value as the expression of a social identity whose experience was often at odds with that o f the dominant (male) community. For these scholars, the issue of genre definition is itself questionable, since generic expectations “are not timeless and transcendent...but are rather produced by— and productive of— cultural and R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 5 material practices” (Corbett 1992:5). These expectations result when the creative works of a liminal social group are measured against cultural and material practices’ that pro duce an experientially different set of criteria. Although there are fundamental differences between autobiography and personal letters, there is one important similarity, and for this reason I apply Corbett’s conclusion regarding autobiographical texts to my study o f private letters. Autobiography and letters share the implicit impetus of transmission o f personal identity; moreover, when collected and read sequentially, as can be readily done with Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters, the personality of the writer unfolds analogous to the narrative technique of autobiography.^ Thus, letters, like diary or autobiography can be seen as a type of self writing or even ‘life writing,’ the latter implying a combination of self description and critical commentary on the text itself (Kadar 1992). In the same way, the argument against the need for generic identification and in favor of a discussion that brings “history, ideology, and gender to the fore” (Corbett 1992:6) could be made for the study of women’s private writings such as the personal letter. The communicative function of the letter positions the activity in the realm of social life. This identification suggests as a theoretical base sociological concepts, such as practice theory, which emphasizes the individual or agent’s interaction with her environment: Native experience of the social world never apprehends the system of objective relationships other than in profile, i.e.. in the form of relations which present R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. themselves one by one...If agents are possessed by their habitus* more than the\ possess it this is because it acts within them as the organizing principle of their actions, and because this modus operandi in forming all thought and action (including thought of action) reveals itself only in the opus operatum. (Bourdieu 1992:18). We can place personal letters in that point between m odus operandi and opus operatum, and a social science approach to studying cultural phenomena perhaps best illuminates notions o f “complicity’^ (first discussed in Senelick (1980) in relation to Kommissarzhevskaia) as an obvious by-product of social interaction and not self consciously derived. In this way, I argue against scholarship which reconstructs the past by disregarding the individual: I am not interested in the structure of signs as much as their practical functions. In Kommissarzhevskaia’s personal letters, we find a conflict between individual identity and socially imposed strictures. However, like Corbett and others, in my methodological approach I likewise do not seek to provide answers to the “vexed issue” o f genre in my study of Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistles. For this reason, although included in my discussion, literary style and form are not the focus o f my investigation. Instead, I rely on the combination of ideology, and cultural and literary analysis, as means by which to discuss the expression o f personality during a past historical epoch as well as the cultural significance of that expression. In the critical literature, the emphasis on study o f the personal letter as a literary form represents the field’s increased transformation during the past half-century from an isolated and text-driven to a wholistic approach that considers the text within its * Many of the phrases in this citation are specific to Bourdieu s theory of Practice. In tliis passage. I understand habitus to indicate the individuafs continual interaction with his/her social order. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 7 cultural and receptive context; referred to as the study o f the poetics o f culture. Jakobson addressed the interrelationship o f construct and life as a system o f poetics that deals with the “relations between discourse and the universe o f discourse” (Jakobson 1990: 71). Following Lotman’s formulation o f a poetics o f culture (e.g., “The social function o f a text determines its typological classification”(Lotman 1977: 120)), proponents o f New Historicism during the late 1980s moved toward a semiotic interpretation o f culture that incorporated a claim to “demystify the privileged status of the literary work” (Pecora 1989: 270). Feminist theorists interested in a similar pansemiotic interpretation of culture and artistic response challenge discourse that divorces the discussion o f art from its historical environment likewise develop their studies from within the “hidden places of negotiation and exchange” (Greenblatt 1989), accentuating the individual and agency (human proclivity for shaping the components o f environment to serve one’s purpose) over structural analysis.* This approach also proves the most productive for examining how Vera Kommissarzhevskaia’s personal letters might come to stand as cultural artefact where the letters reveal authorial presences comparable to Bourlieu’s ‘possession’ by habitus. Indeed, within the past twenty years emphasis on contextualization has weak ened the claim that the personal letter is an undervalued literary subject. For example, studies o f self-writing conducted by Todd (1976), Redford (1986), Spacks (1988), and Kaplan (1988) are based on the interrelationship between epistolary discourse(s) and cultural and social imperatives that influenced its (their) production. The clash between language and culture is also primary in studies on women’s autobiographical texts R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 8 (including diary and letters) (Smith 1987, Corbett 1992; compendia such as Jelinek 1980, Broughton and Anderson 1997, et al.). Todd and Redford analyze how cultural values such as sincerity, humility, self reflection and interpretation o f the natural world were reflected in the discourse o f familiar letters associated with early 19*-century literary circles, such as Pushkin’s Arzamas brotherhood;® Corbett and Spacks analyze middle-class English women’s autobiography and personal letters; the marginalized texts o f a marginalized segment o f society. Certainly, the object and literary concerns of the bourgeois Victorian gentlewoman (v/r: domestic detail, personal description) differed greatly from those o f the Arzamas literary elite (word play, literary allusions). But scholars have shown in the letters o f these diverse groups that the fact and manner o f telling disclose the prevalence o f societal demands on the construct o f self These texts of self-writing reveal as much about the writer’s milieu as they do about the private self as disputed as the veracity o f the latter representation may be. Even in private writings o f a confessional or self-expository nature, as are Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters, the influence o f social values frames the manner of self depiction. As such, the writing o f private letters thus also becomes a type o f Practice in that it expresses the drive of the individual to adapt to her environment and shape it to her own needs. Professional women at the turn o f the century especially were prone to the disparity produced by balancing image of the private self with societal expectations, as “the identity of public performance may cause its female possessor to experience intensely, or at any rate to reveal emphatically, pre-existent uncertainties o f personal identity” (Spacks 1980:113). This tension o f uncertainty’ is especially noticeable in R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 9 self-writings of women in theater, a profession which historically was already marginalized by its elevation o f societal taboos on commodification o f the self. Such a supposition accounts, in part, for the presence in Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters o f a variety of voices, echoing and simultaneously rejecting generally assumed patterns of behavior for women. Earlier I mentioned the arguable veracity o f self writing. Indeed, in private writings the tension between public and private produces the conundrum of ‘truthful ness,’ and epistolary scholars in general are united by a need to explicate this enigma. For example, it would seem a commonplace that, in a correspondence, writers act out a kind of “intimate conversation.” Kommissarzhevskaia indicated this precept throughout her correspondences; a reference in a letter to Nikolai Khodotov is representative of this formulaic essence of letter writing; r write and I think how many letters I have written you. You love them, but how few of them you harken to in your soul, whereas I have always put a piece of my own into them.' Our advantage as readers is to be able to see the letter as object within its cultural context, and for this reason scholars agree that this fundamental sentiment (e.g., letter as conversation o f the soul,’ where the ‘soul’ is taken to mean an unmediated, free expression of self) is itself dubious. Todd (1976) determined that the influence of culturally referent discourse produced the “illusion o f intimacy” in the Arzamas familiar letters’. Redford contrasted the devices of 18"'-century written expression with physical * rimny h qywaK): cKOJibKO imcew h Bum Hamicajia. Bbi h x j h c S h t c , h o xax MaJio h3 h h x Bbi b Aymy b h sjih , a B CRb a b h h x BKJiaauBaJia Bcerjfa <iacTH io>i CBoeif. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 1 0 communication and concluded that the familiar letter is a type o f performance (Redford 2); i.e., a contrived rather than direct and immediate, “truthfiil” expression o f self As we have seen in Todd’s argument, the social importance and indeed cultural expectations o f ‘heartfelt sentiment’ are replicated in the letters he studied by elements such as avowals of immediacy or a crisp, brilliant phrase to convey an emotional response. In both cases, the writers’ transmission o f personal emotion is channeled through devices regulated by societal values: hence the illusory’ nature o f their inti macy.’ In the citation above, one could therefore determine that Kommissarzhevskaia’s insistence on the equation o f soul’ with writing in actuality belied the Neo-Romantic philosophical orientation that underlined her world view and was part o f the discourse she shared with her interlocutor. The question o f illusion and reality in the epistolary text is important for my purposes not for issues o f generic definition but because its presence signals a need for recognition o f cultural influences on the formation o f epistolary self-depiction. The tension between real and illusory is precisely the underlying impetus to Spacks’ observation that “personal letters, published, entice readers by fictio n s o f self- revelation” [my italics] (Spacks 1988: 177), and this was certainly my response when I first encountered Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters in publications and archival collections. Feminist-oriented scholarship provides a way o f dealing with the interference of cultural values on expression o f the self by looking at how these values encourage in women’s self-writing a show o f “strategies o f deflection” (Spacks 1988:178) when self- expression threatens societal models for that behavior. Deflection occurs when cultural R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 11 identification defines the written expression o f the self therefore producing a text which is actually the “textualization” o f a culture— be it 18“* century English gentry (Kaplan 1988); middle-class Victorian England (Corbett 1992; Postlewait 1989); the fundamen tal social values of early twentieth-century Europe and America (Spacks 1980), or Modernist Russia (the present study). Indeed, one common theme unites these exam ples: the markers o f fem ininity (the perpetuation o f traditional Social values that elevated feminine modesty, self-sacrifice, goodness') worked to suppress attempts at free self-expression. The magnitude o f these stereotypes and the conflict of the public and private self has been noted in the self-writing o f major female political figures as late as post World War I, in whose autobiographies Spacks (1980) has fixed a “rhetoric of uncertainty about the self.” A corollary can be found in the “rhetoric of denial” which Postlewait (1989) and others hypothesize for the autobiographies and letters written by tum-of-the-century actresses. As in Corbett’s discussion (1992), Postlewait contends that, while marginalized by their professional choice, Victorian actresses nonetheless aspired to social integration. This urge was manifested in their letters by a lack of descriptors deemed socially unacceptable or which did not reflect the ideal of femininity prevalent during the turn o f the century for women (i.e., discourse describing self-motivation, drive for power, self-promotion) and the presence o f rhetoric that replicated socially acceptable markers for female behavior (self-effacing modesty, indications of self-sacrifice, passivity) reflecting the cultural preoccupation with fem ininity. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 12 Since the relationship between tum-cf-the-century Russian actresses and society has yet to be fully explored in the scholarship, cultural aflBnity with European urban life (i.e., a growing merchant class, increased urbanization, similar aesthetic expression among the intelligentsia) and especially the shared concept o f fem ininity has led me to consider scholarly studies o f European actresses during this time period. In terms of the cultural frame o f the tum-of-the-century, in both Europe, England, and especially Russia the concept o f transformation best defines this transitional period, and emphasis on social and political change affected the institution o f theater as well. As Corbett (1992) explains, towards the end o f the century the discourse o f the theater reflected its institutional transformation into an increasingly professionalized, middle-class public institution, and this discourse was then replicated in Victorian actresses’s letters, i.e., they ‘represented femininity’ in their self-writings as a reaction to the marginal status of their profession: How actresses define themselves on stage and in autobiography tiius becomes contingent less on the "facts” of their private lives, and more on how well they publicly imitate and reproduce the signs and attitudes that mark individuals as belonging to a certain class and gender. (Corbett 1992: 108) In mid-nineteenth century England a stage career provided women from a working class background a means for upward social mobility, and these actresses in particular infused their self-reflexive texts with the language and concerns of the middle-class to which they aspired. Yet as much as a similar case for Russian actresses’ self-writing might provide an easy focus for my study, and as convincing as this argument may be for the European experience, there are some impediments to its direct application to the Russian tum-of-the-century cultural context. The general hypotheses regarding R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 13 Victorian actresses’s letters» outlined above (i.e., strategies o f deflection, rhetorical self- denial, etc.), is evident to a certain degree in the letters o f Marina Savina and Maria Ermolova, but in the case o f Kommissarzhevskaia, some modification is needed. Due to the facts o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s biography and her unique capacity to adapt to the alternating currents o f her time, the actress’s letters well illustrate the claim that personal letters indicate “the point o f conflict between women’s selves and woman’s role” because at such points,’ “the contradictions o f women’s lives are best illuminated” (Cline I989:xi-xii).“ On the one hand, this premise supports my claim to the multi-voicedness o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters. Even the cursory reading reveals the conflict of public and private persona that permeates her letters to friends and col leagues. Brief passages from random letters written over a two-year period alone indicate the diversity of self-writing from expression o f passive acceptance and angst: It feels like an iron Iiand has stifled the life of my soul...Ho\v terribly well peasants understand tliis melancholy when they say. “Life ain’t nothing but drudgery.”*'" to an almost belligerent self-determination. You write tliat you tliought the Imperial Theaters won’t release me. Tliey can't not release me...once 1 cease to believe, and 1 no longer believe in the Alexandrine Theater’s work.” **'^ as well as writing the self as the “good” woman: * KaxaH-To, 6yqro xeneanaa pyxa cqaanna tiotaHb flyiuH...KaK crpauiHO acHo uyxcHKH noHHMaioT 3Ty TocKy, Korqa roBopar “CKyyyuiHo mhc.” ** Bbi iraniere, ayMann, hto HMnepaTopciadf re a rp Mena ne ornycTHT. Mena Hensaa ne oTnycTHTb...pa3 a oepecrany aepHn., a a ne sepio 6ojibiue s geno AjieKcaHflpHHCKoro rearpa. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 14 People in general, and women in particular have one horrible trait: t h ^ forgive foul things .This trait is not among my many foibles.*** As other examples in this dissertation will show, we can speak o f agency in the way Kommissarzhevskaia modeled her private or epistolary images o f the self. Yet in this example of women’s writing, the conflict of self-expression,’ I suggest, was induced as well by economic and aesthetic rather than solely social imperative, as facts o f her biography indicate. An acting career did not offer Kommissarzhevskaia a special inroad to social mobility or social respectability, since as heir to the artistic legacy o f her father, a former Mariinskii Theater opera singer and arts educator, the actress already occupied a privileged position in the hierarchy o f the aesthetic elite. In addition, into the first years of the century when Kommissarzhevskaia began to exert her power as head o f her own theater household, her self-writing became less concerned with replicating conventional models of femininity and more openly the voice o f the New Woman, writing in the discourse of power and free-thinking. Nonetheless, economic concerns likewise had the potential to channel her self-representation. Being part o f the work force demanded that the actress rely on maintaining her public, which alternated from conservative bourgeois (while performing in the State theater system) to the avant- garde aesthetic elite and politicized young people who constituted the primary audi ences of her own private theaters. Thus, the three voices’ that overlap and conflict in her letters-^m/»/w//y. Symbolist eidolon, revolutionary martyr— have their origins in the theories and social circumstances of her historical time and place and surface as reflec *** y jnofleô Booriine, a y xceminfH b ocorieHHocra ecn. oana qepra yacacHaa: ohh Jienco npoin^ioT raHocTb...B qncjie mohx 6ecKOHe*iHbix HeaocraxKOB— aToro hut. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 15 tion o f the actress’s agility in maneuvering within these factors. Yet the actress’s personal aesthetic convictions were also part o f the factors constituting the ‘point o f personality conflict’ in her letters, and this factor in particular serves an organizing function throughout the entire set o f her correspondences. Before discussing the origins of Kommissarzhevskaia’s public images, 1 would like to briefly contrast the actress’s personal ideology with that o f her Symbolist and non-Symbolist colleagues. As Pushkin had proclaimed in his 1826 poem, “The Prophet,” and Dmitrii Merezhkovskii’s Symbolist poet-theurg iterated almost a century later, the Artist was ordained to enlighten and inspire.Kom m issarzhevskaia believed that her lineage and complete dedication toward her chosen path entitled her to the role of spiritual leader to the ’crowd’ and almost literally ascribed to this Romantic ideology. Yet the philosophical impetus of the reassessment o f the relationship between art and life was different for the pro-active political reformers o f the 1860s, who recognized Realism’s applicability as a social regenerative force, and end-of^the-century theorists like Merezhkovskii, for whom art now served as the transformer of universal conscious ness and Symbolism as a means to convey the new understanding of the function of art. Many of Kommissarzhevskaia’s colleagues in the Dramatic Theater and arts community (especially the World o f Art artists, and the creative intelligentsia associated with Viacheslav Ivanov’s Tower) eschewed the civic-minded traditions o f the previous century’s reform movement in favor of an appreciation o f art for its own intrinsic identity; a preoccupation which produced the hothouse’ mentality of the St. Petersburg aesthetic elite that Berdiaev described in his memoirs (Berdiaev 1962). Yet R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 1 6 as much as Kommissarzhevskaia was interested in Merezhkovskii’s writings (as citations in her letters attest), for the most part her aesthetic orientation remained ruled by the late nineteenth-century Neo-Romantic emphasis on the Artist as inspired social servant. In fact, the greatest formative influence on her world view was probably John Ruskin’s concept of an art which served civic and spiritual goals; by enlightening the ‘heart and soul,’ society would thus be bettered. In my opinion, Kommissarzhevskaia’s attraction as the definitive expression o f the transitional period in which she lived was the very fact that her own personal philosophy o f life encompassed a commitment to twentieth-century creative endeavor— a striving for free, creative expression— as well as dedication to nineteenth-century ideals o f art as community service. As in the making o f any cultural icon, Kommissarzhevskaia’s social activities helped to create her popularized personae. Yet the discrepancy between the type o f dramatic roles for which she was most famous, her actions as theater entrepreneur, and her alleged political sentiments gave rise to a complexity of popular images. Indeed, the variety of these images is perhaps one argument against conscious complicity on the part of Kommissarzhevskaia in the making o f her own public persona, in contrast to the way in which Sarah Bernhardt carefully crafted public perception. Three distinct types of popularized images can be identified for the Russian actress, and these types both overlap and contradict one another. Theater establishment critics like Aleksandr Kugel', Petr Boborykin, and other supporters o f conservative Russian theater, apprehensive about the actress’s foray into the business o f theater, preferred to liken the actress with her roles of painful adolescent searching and awakening o f adult consciousness, such as R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 17 in popular 19*-century realist dramas by Aleksandr Ostrovsky, Arthur Schnitzler, and Hermann Sudermann, in which she starred as ingenue at the Imperial St- Petersburg Alexandrine Theater (1896-1902) and continued to perform throughout her career. In her performance as Schnitzler’s Fannie IA Fairytale). she rescued the woman. She lived, suffered, cried, burned, and wrenched her soul. In a performance like this there is no end to art. [no end to) where the actress and artist end and life itself begins. rVarshavskii dnevnik 65 (5 March 1904) in Chronicle 259) Years earlier, a review in the same publication charted her appeal as Olga Gorbatova in Boborykin’s 1899 social commentary. Scum (Nakip’)r Mme. Komissarzhevskaia. with all the strength and radiance of her talent, imbued Princess Olga with soul, and then revealed tliis aching soul in such detail, witli such simplicity, sincerity, truth and femininity thaL next to tin's, the role itself paled. An enchanting actress, hill of charm, poetry and truth: a woman, suffering through her talent, full of the beauty of the soul o f Ophelia! A contemporary Ophelia! fVarsliavskii dnevnik (29 March 1900) in Chronicle 130) Phrases used to describe the actress in the citations above, her “charm, poetry and truth”, her ability to “wrench her soul,” and especially her capacity for “suffering through her art” (yystradat ' svoi talant), where, in the Russian, the verb vystradal ' implies a noble suffering to achieve some higher aim, make clear her identification as fem m e fragile, a type built on stereotypic images of femininity As Spencer Golub and others have suggested, Kommissarzhevskaia’s identity with Chekhov’s Sea Gull has perhaps the strongest resonance for contemporary audiences of this type (Golub 1994). While acknowledging Kommissarzhevskaia’s achievements as directrisse, Golub maintains her cultural significance was as fem m e fragile, a type not as dynamic as the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 18 fem m e fa ta le but, as Golub contends, equally exercising agency. (The fem m e fragile type is discussed in Chapter V o f the present study). Naturalist and Realist drama was the mainstay of Kommissarzhevskaia’s first Dramatic Theater (1904-1906); especially Ibsen and writers associated with Maksim Gorkii’s Znanie group. Among her roles Kommissarzhevskaia explored the iconoclast potential of Ibsen’s New Women, and this appellation retrospectively was applied to the roles fi'om an earlier repertory (e.g., Ostrovsky’s dowery-less bride, Larisa), which the actress continued to perform. Politically motivated writers and activists, among them Aleksandra Kollontai and Anatoiii Lunacharskii, subsequently extrapolated Kommissarzhevskaia’s significance especially from her Ibsen roles and personal support o f women’s and student’s groups, and socially directed writers such as Gorkii and Sergei Naidenov. These supporters also appropriated her encouragement of scenic experimentation in her second Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater (1906-1910) in the work of Vsevolod Meierkhol'd, Nikolai Evreinov, and World of Art artists as a sign of protest against theater routine. Theater entrepreneurship was one avenue for women to actively participate in social life, and although Kommissarzhevskaia was among several women who engaged in private entrepreneurship since the 1882 dissolution of the state hegemony on theater, she was arguably the first major player to openly align herself and her theaters with the reform movement. Dramatic Theater productions took on the nature of political statement; her theater was acknowledged as a meeting place for free-thinkers, and the actress herself became a symbol o f the struggle for individual rights.*® Critics and writers with a political agenda projected the image of Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 19 Kommissarzhevskaia as a moral teacher and bold reformer but with dogmatic and even fanatical conviction. (See Chapter VI of the present study). When naturalism as a genre began to seem to Kommissarzhevskaia too con cerned with mundane detail to explicate philosophical issues o f existence, she turned to Symbolism, and began to gain a reputation as Symbolist muse for her performances as Maeterlinck’s Sister Beatrice, Monna Vanna, and D’Annunzio’s Mélisande. Influenced by Symbolism’s blurring o f the boundaries between art and life {realia and realiora), the actress became more absorbed in the potential of Symbolist drama as a way to convey universal themes o f love and moral and spiritual truth. Valerii Briusov and Andrei Belii (among others) idealized her in their writings as the Symbolist eidolon, and the actress in turn borrowed the discourse of Symbolism’s Neo-Romantic leanings to talk about her own aesthetic ideology: that art demanded sacrifice and suffering. In their poetry, the Symbolists idealized Kommissarzhevskaia in images reminiscent o f heroines driven and ultimately destroyed by love (or love as metaphor for Art): Amidst the frightening and enonnous universe You were like a leaf in a waterfall, and you wandered like a homeless pilgrim With dumbfounded sorrow in your eyes. You could breathe only love... And now you lay abandoned on the rocks. Like a flower, cnished by the current... (V. Briusov. "To the Approaching One " (Vstrechnoi). September-Nov 1907)’ * Bo BceJteHHofl, crpaïQHoü h orpoMHOH,/ Tbi 6buia - xax jihcthk b BoaonaAe./M riJiyxotaJia crpaHHHiteH 6e3qoMHoA,/C myMJieH bew ropecimiM bo BarJUtAeJ/Tbt AbimaTb Morna oahoh jno6oBbK>//H Tenepb Tbi ripomena na KaMHH,/KaK itBeroK, H3MOJtoTbiH hotokom. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 (The subject o f Kommissarzhevskaia as Symbolist eidolon is further discussed in Chapter rV )- The “traditional Russian idea that art must transform life in accord with an ideal” (Rosenthal 1975:53) was reflected in each o f the ideological tendencies discussed above; moreover, in the cultural imagination, the most cogent image for transformation was sacrifice. Kommissarzhevskaia's adherents and detractors found her significance in her willingness to dedicate herself to an ideal; yet depending on their orientation, her ‘martyrdom’ (with which her aesthetic, emotional, and financial sacrifices were often compared) was seen as either a tragic flaw or a saintly endowment. The basic form of Kommissarzhevskaia’s public images certainly originated in her stage roles and social activities, yet their final shaping was heavily influenced by the aesthetic positions o f the critics who promoted these identifications. In my estimation, the gestures o f femme fra g ile. Symbolist eidolon, and revolutionary martyr can be traced to one key element in Kommissarzhevskaia’s profes sional history: her challenge to the traditionally male-dominated theater establishment. A microcosm o f the changing social order during the early years of the century, theater was also shifting its ideological center from replication o f bourgeois mores to re-evalua tion of those values and the creation of new models for social and behavioral modifica tion. The upset o f the existing order produced an analogous effect in the arts, affecting dramaturgy, performance, and the social hierarchy o f the institution o f theater.'^ The proliferation o f private theaters brought an increased need for plays and actors, and as had been the case for European theater, into the early twentieth century an acting career acquired recognition as a reasonably acceptable way for women from the developing Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 middle class to gain entry into a profession/* By the early years o f the twentieth century, the acting profession in Russia was also gaining acceptance as a creative contributor to society rather than merely civil service, as it had been under State-run control. Nonetheless, Kommissarzhevskaia was one o f the first actresses o f her stature to brave institutional history by rejecting offers to join established private theater companies (such as Stanislaviskifs Moscow Art Theater, Aleksei Suvorin’s St. Petersburg company) in order to form a theater o f her own design. With broadening opportunities for women outside the home, attitudes toward the role o f women in society were also undergoing change. The Women’s Movement was entering its adolescence in Russia, and conservatives viewed the movement with the same suspicion as their European counterparts.'^ Liubov’ Gurevich, Aleksandra Kollontai, and a growing number of educated women took their cue from the experiences of the “generation of the 1860s” and moved women’s presence even more forcefully into the public arenas of journalism and political activity. Kommissarzhevskaia ‘served’ in the Imperial Alexandrine Theater from 1896 to 1902, but she gained public stature largely through her own efforts and self-motivation to become an independent theater entrepreneur after that time. Moreover, Kommissarzhevskaia did not set out to use the vehicle of her theater as showcase fbr her own acting, unlike lavorskaia, Elizaveta Shabelskaia, and other actress-entrepreneurs,“ but she reserved the right to perform only in those plays she knew best suited her talents. Nonetheless, as a group these business women challenged the patriarchy o f the theater establishment by assuming the role o f “head of household.”"' In so doing, Kommissarzhevskaia was also Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 broadening the socially recognized definition o f women’s place, and her assumption of the direction o f a business enterprise also provided a model for any marginalized social group seeking integration into the dominant culture. In this regard, I think it is important to keep in mind that at the time, a theater career for a woman had broader ramifications than the more traditional choices of nursing or education. Yet, paradoxically, cultural ambiguity toward theater as a career choice also provided women with a greater potential for change. On the one hand, societal taboos against public display o f the body and unreserved self expression jeopar dized attempts to elevate the profession o f acting for women in an era in which most successful theaters were by and large a middle or upper-middle class pastime. The paradox is that the actress’s power and influence lay precisely in her exercise o f the very zxiti-feminine (i.e., anti-middle-class) value o f commodification of the self. Thus, as Davis (1968:70) summarizes, two aspects o f the professional woman’s nontraditional lifestyle—her “sexual expatriation from the domestic sphere” and “challenge to patriar chal supremacy in the public sphere”—put her at odds with accepted venues o f activity and deportment for women and simultaneously afforded her the opportunity to break down traditional social restrictions.” Kommissarzhevskaia’s experience is a fitting model for this argument; one suspects that, had the actress chosen a less contentious career, her public image as social reformer and her social significance would not have been as profound. Perhaps herein lies part of the difficulty that conservative critics like Kugel faced in describing the attributes of actresses like Kommissarzhevskaia, who challenged not Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 just the traditional theater but social order as well. Kommissarzhevskaia was a cultural presence in St. Petersburg society like Mariia Savina, the acknowledged monarch o f the Alexandrine Theater. However, Kommissarzhevskaia had achieved her position of dominance by right o f inheritance, as it were, and by opposing rather than adhering to the accepted conventions for art and the social system. After all, for all her technical prowess, Savina had followed the model o f acquiring bourgeois respectability by a series o f advantageous marriages.^ How is it, then, knowing Kommissarzhevskaia’s reformist impulses and sympathetic response ftom standing socialists Kollontai and Gurevich, that Aleksandr Kugef would not only immortalize Kommissarzhevskaia as the “fragile child” of her time, but that this nomenclature would be perpetuated by the Symbolist poets and serve as the predominant model for contemporary Western scholars as well?^^ Kugef was perhaps the most influential theater critic o f the period, and, I would argue, his pronouncements were crucial to the formation o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s public image even among her Symbolist supporters. Kugel disseminated his views primarily through the journal Teatri iskusstvo ( Theater and Art), o f which he was chief editor from 1897 to 1918, and his own private theatrical concern. The Crooked Mirror. Founded by Kugel and Nikolai Evreinov in 1908, the intimate theater parodied popular art forms including Dramatic Theater productions.** Kugel' staunchly promoted the traditional Russian theater legacy. Memoirist Alexandra Brushtein (1956) noted the irony in the critic’s choice o f nom-de-plume, “Homo Novus,”“ as there was nothing “new” in his views; unlike his attitude toward Evreinov’s endeavors, Kugel severely castigated most attempts at experimental theater. The critic’s opinion o f the Moscow Art Theater Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 (at least during its first two decades) perhaps best indicates his antipathy toward theater that deviated fi'om tradition. According to Kugel', not only had MAT built its success on superficial scenic details rather than art (acting); its productions had a debilitating effect on Russian theater history: “Our own, especially Russian, theater has been mangled by the Moscow Art Theater like old Rus’ was mangled by Peter [the Great], so that to this day it can't find itself.”’^ This attitude carried over to his assessment o f the St. Petersburg equivalent of the Art Theater, Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater, in whose first meetings actors and theater organizers “attempted to comprehend the tasks of the new theater, but they didn’t understand anything because there was nothing to understand.”^ * Like Boborykin, whose plays were mostly staged at the Moscow Maly Theater and the St. Petersburg Alexandrine, Kugel ' prized the conservative orientation o f these theaters toward stage production, and the acting o f Ermolova and Savina.^ Likewise, Kugel' advocated the repertory and acting tradition o f the State Theaters as the model for young actors. His views were representative o f a generation brought up on the supremacy o f the actor in the production: the wholistic aesthetic o f stylized theater and ensemble acting as was being developed in the Moscow Art Theater did not figure in his definition o f theatrical art. The critic usually criticized Kommissarzhevskaia’s perfor mance style, even to the extent of using her name at one point as a metaphor for poor acting.^® During one amicable phase in their relationship (the 1905-06 season, when his wife, Zinaida Kholmskaia, was a Dramatic Theater troupe member), KugeT credited Kommissarzhevskaia with individuality and talent, though, characteristically, he judged Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 her work with Meierkhord, attraction to Symbolism, and rejection o f realist acting to be a lamentable deception. At the close o f the 1905 season when, with Akim Volynskii as literary adviser, the Dramatic Theater changed course from Realism to Symbolism, Kugel'’s sympathies departed (along with Kholmskaia). Not surprisingly, Kommissar zhevskaia counted him among her enemies; Kugel “can’t hear my name indifferently,” she once wrote to Briusov.^' Newspaper drama reviews indicate that Kommissarzhevskaia’s initial work in provincial theaters was well received. Yet K ugel's negative review o f the actress’ 1896 St. Petersburg Alexandrine Theater debut established the tone for his subsequent reviews of her work. Brushtein (1956) suggests that K ugel’s conservative views were threatened by Kommissarzhevskaia’s stunning rise in popularity. Indeed, at points the critic’s attacks seem exceedingly harsh.^^ Kugel found her acting “pale”^ ^ and her national appeal weak; his observation that she lacked the energy to perform young roles had the potential to doom her career in the Alexandrine since this was the type for which she had been cast. He later iterated his observations concerning Kommissarzhevskaia’s lack of “true inspiration,” although at the same time he remarked that she “is a good actress with excellent technical devices, with wit and understanding of the matter at hand By her third season, Kugel offered the actress fatherly advice “not to get carried away by ovations from the medical course students, think less about being first, and play what she should, mainly German and foreign girls, get her health back... and put more variety into her roles.”^ ® In his view, theater had to retain a national character in style o f perfor mance and type o f work produced (hence his applauding of the Comédie Française and. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 6 in Russia, the Moscow Maly Theater and the St. Petersburg Alexandrine). His admoni tion that Kommissarzhevskaia was best suited to foreign drawing room melodramas would thus seem to relegate her to the position of outsider to the national Russian stage legacy. Moreover, K ugel's deprecation o f the medical course students’ (referring to the St. Petersburg Surgical Academic courses for women, which had reopened in 1895) provides more justification that the critic had diflBculty accepting actresses like Kommissarzhevskaia, since her admirers were likewise progressive-thinking young women (and men) whose new ideas threatened conservative views on women’s place. Kugel' may well have isolated correctly the social strata that constituted Kommissarzhevskaia’s primary supporters, yet it seems a contradiction that these young women might identify with an actress who, according to Kugel , best performed only ‘German and foreign girls. ’ Her depiction o f the impoverished Larisa (The Dowervless Bride), unlike Savina’s portrayal, Kugel' found to be “too contemporary, too interna tional for Ostrovsky.” Her appeal, he determined, had less to do with mastery o f tech nique and more to do with her personality: Isn’t it because she could “emote pit\ “ and they could feel “pity for hen they could love her as the neurasthenic (ôo/eznenno). suffering, fragile child of her time? I think this was tlie reason why. (Kugel' 162).* Two final considerations tie Kommissarzhevskaia, through Kugel ’s writings, to the most cogent leitmotifs of the period: and the place o f “searching” in an aesthetic ideology, and the concept o f fem ininity as behavioral model for women. The element of * He noTOMy, qxc ona ra x "jKaneJia," h ee rax "*ajieJiH," to ecn* jiio6ioih, xax GoneanenHo crpaqatoutee, xpynxoe ahtsi CBoero BpewenH? Mne xarxercn, «rro a rc HMeHHo Tax. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 ‘searching’ in particular dramatizes the differences in their aesthetic views and how closely Kommissarzhevskaia’s ideology approached the concerns o f the younger artists and performers during those years. In his article “Searching” (Iskanie), Kugel' lashed out at theater reformers and literary figures who privileged quest over goal, and he offered the theatrical experimentations carried in Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theaters as examples o f futile expenditure o f time and energy (Kugel' n.d.:81-I09). When we consider that the Dramatic Theater’s literary section after 1905 was headed first by Akim Volynskii and then Valerii Briusov, it is clear that the problem was a conflict in ideological orientation and not necessarily personal animosity. (I address Kommissarzhevskaia’s relationship with Briusov in Chapter IV). Volynskii, “a Kantian idealist who refused to acknowledge the necessity for precise new principles” (B. Rosenthal 1975:73), shared Merezhkovskii’s views on the spiritual function o f art.^^ After 1905, when Volynskii took over as head o f its literary committee, Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater began to consider alternatives to its naturalist- realist orientation. Kommissarzhevskaia’s success in Symbolist roles encouraged her theater’s new direction, and its symbolist platform became even more pronounced when Valerii Briusov later replaced Volynskii as literary advisor. Symbolist drama proved a literary rather than performance art; attempts by Dramatic 'Theater director Meierkhol’d to convey the message o f the ‘invisible truths’ found in the dramatic text (as he wrote to Fedor Komisaijevsky) through the “movement o f lines and color spots’’^ ’ lulled audiences into an entertaining but unproductive “ aesthetic nirvana” {esteticheskii nirvan) Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 8 (Rostotsidi 1968:206). Nonetheless, Kommissarzhevskaia persisted in this direction until her financial failures and lack o f fulfillment with her own acting moved her to consider new forms o f expression. For Kommissarzhevskaia and her Symbolist colleagues, the quest or searching' was an integral part o f their shared discourse. Symbolism, as described by Viacheslav Ivanov, is an ait whose creations are indicated as it were by a gesture like tlie finger pointing out at something beyond the canvas on Leonardo da Vinci's paintings...it is the general layout of tlie landscape of tlie soul. (V. Ivanov. Po zw ezdam 1909:189)*^* As Ivanov describes, symbolism emphasized association and innuendo rather than direct reflection and statement; the gesture' ‘pointing beyond the canvas.' Yet the insistence on individual interpretation tnight as well be related to Ruskin, whose theories likewise were structurally loose and thereby open to individual understanding, “more the product of experience and a particular set of mind than the elaboration o f a theory” (Spear 1984:12). Kommissarzhevskaia followed Ruskin's commendation that “the cause of art is the cause o f the people" (“Art and Socialism” 1884) and his admonition that women (like men) needed to lead a “noble” life, dedicated to doing good (Sesame and Lilies. 1871). In her letters, the actress expresses her ideology in the discourse o f Neo- Romanticism; her life is a continual “search,” where that search means freedom to pursue one's own individual will and aesthetic impulses. Her self-definition, written in 1894, * 3 to HCxyccTBo, npoH3BeAei»i)t Koroporo OTMeuenbi xax 6bi jxecroM yxaaamm, nogoôHbiM npoTHHyroMy h na <rro-To aa rpaHbio xojicra yxaayiomeMy najibqy na xapTHuax JleoHapno ga BHmm...o6maa opHeirmpoBxa AyiueBHoro neAaaxa. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 9 when her professional career was in its very early stages— "I am always and everywhere searching for the beautifiil”— remained her devise throughout her life. Yet to contemporaries like Kugel ', her “searching, impulse, inspiration, disquiet” (iskanie, poryv, vdokhnovenie, bespokoistvo) (Kugel' n.d.:l61) was construed as vacillation, weakness, indecision (See Note 5). For a broader discussion o f Kommissarzhevskaia as the symbol o f fem ininity, 1 direct readers to Schuler’s (1996) discussion of Kommissarzhevskaia, in which she builds on Kugel’s pronouncements concerning the actress. I also return to this topic in more detail in Chapter VI. For the present, 1 would like to elaborate briefly Kugel ’s application of this concept to Kommissarzhevskaia, and how in her letters the actress was able to turn this appellation to her advantage. Indeed, it is difiBcult to reconcile Kugel' s reductive model for Kommissarzhevskaia suggesting an undeveloped fem ininity (i.e., weak, overly emotional, preoccupied by incessant questing for an undetermined goal) with the stature the actress had already acquired as a performer by the time of his first reviews. In fact, Kommissarzhevskaia was able to subvert the conventional model for female personality and behavior by using her admitted preoccupation with ‘mission’ as a means to Justify her actions and encourage others to follow her. Consider, for example, the following passage, in which the actress attempts to encourage Evtikhii Karpov to support her transition from actress to entrepreneur: “At this moment eternity is speaking with you through me...and woe to him who does not Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 answer to my call at such a moment.”* ^ ’ In another example, she applies a similar subtext to bridle Khodotov’s behavior: “All the meekness and tenderness o f my soul calls you now in the hope that you will hear their voices. 1 fear for you now...you are giving full reign to bad influences.**"*” Similar examples are scattered throughout her correspondences, and we can consider these passages as subtle indications of the actress’s expression o f faith in the purpose of quest as a means to self revelation and her ability to maneuver within the discourse of a pliant femininity to achieve her aim. Similarly, Kugel' s 1899 negative summary described the actress’s appeal as: more 'good’ than art. more pit) than beaut) . This is an actress of utilitarian art...who. due to a complete misunderstanding coimected with undigested philosophical notions. M. Volynskii. with his quasi-idealistic view on art. adores. Mme Kommissarzhevskaia must say much to hearts who consider beautiful manners ...antithetical to progress. Because she is awkward, neurasthenic, and emotional, she evokes sympathy and thus love.*’* (A. K-ef. Teatr i iskusstvo 10 (1899). in Chronicle 113-114) Here we find K ugel’s recurring depiction of Kommissarzhevskaia: psychologically unbalanced, unschooled, wiiming her audience through pathos rather than intellect. In his description, Kugel takes attributes o f femininity to a distorted extreme: he translates her natural, life-like’ acting into awkwardness,’ her physical delicacy and emotional * B 3Ty MHHyry Bcqnocrb roBopirrb c Bawn qepea MeHH...H rpex rowy. k t o h c o t b c t h t na m om n p H 3 b iB b T a K y io MHHyry ** Bat KpoTocTb H HexHOCTb Moeif ayiUH Babisaer k BaM ceifHac b Haaexute, qro Bbt ycjibiuiMxe H x rojioca. Mne SojibHO ceirtac aa Bac...qro Bbt gaere nojiHbiif npocrop aypnoMy * B Heit 6ojn> m e « ao6pa>>, Hexcemt « Hci^ccrBa», Gojtbme «xcanocTH», nejKejiu « xpacorbi». 3 t o apTHcnca yrHJiHrapHoro HCKyccTBa...Koropyio no coBepmeHHOMy HeaopaayMCHHio, cBnaaHHOMy c (t}Hnoco(f)cicHM HecBapeHHeM Mbicnn, jiio6ht r. BonbiHCiCHH, c ero 6ynro 6bi H aeaJiH CTH M ecK M M BoaapeHHeM na HCKyccTBO. T-xa KoMMccapxeecKan aonxxHa MHoro roBopurb cepanaM rex. k t o cqHTaer iqiacHBbie MaHepbi...npHaHaKaMH. BpaaraeGHbiMH «nporpeccy». H orroro <iro ona yrjioBara, GoabHa, HaanoMJieHa, ona BbiabiBaer « xaneHMc» h noroMy JiioGoBb. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 oscillations becomes neurasthenic/ and the depth o f her emotional expression is excessive. Yet, as his conclusion states, it is precisely the appeal o f these images o f weakness and inconstancy as part of generally accepted standards o f female behavior, that is, their life-likeness,' with which the actress succeeded in winning her audience. As I discuss further in Chapter VTI, not unlike Ellen Terry and Eleonore Duse, Kommissarzhevskaia succeeded in turning a natural' acting style into a commodity. In some respects, the concept o ffem ininity is the fulcrum on which revolve the complementary images of the actress created by Kugel and the symbolist poets, and these images inversely reflect one another: for Kugel , passion was expressed as patho logical; for the Symbolists, passion becomes the supreme expression of individuality. There would seem to be only a short step from Kugel's depiction o f Kommissarzhevska- ia-Larisa (Ostrovsky's The Dowervless Bride): a woman who, from the beginning, bears the mark of doom. And she [Kommissarzhevskaiaj plays her role in the same d>ing tones to the end. The poor flower, fated to be plucked, dirtied, and stomped! In the last act Mme Komtm'ssarziievskaia is charming in her quiet suffering. (Karpov 1911: 169-170) to Briusov’s poetic contribution to the Kommissarzhevskaia legend, which encapsulated the actress in similar terms: And now you are abandoned on the rocks. Like a flower, crushed by tlie current. Poor little blade of grass, you are dear to me.- Who is enticed by Fate!* (V. Briusov. "To the Coming O ne" (Vstrechnoi). September-Nov 1907) * * . . M T en ep b x b i frp o tn e n a n a KaMHH,/Kax itB eroK , H3M ojioTbifr noTO K O M ./EeaH aa frbuiHHKa, xbi 6jiH 3K a MHe,-/MHMO yBJicKaeMOMy F okom ! Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 In both images, the concept o f predetermination formed the legend o f the failure o f the individual. Yet this legend again resurfaced in the sentiments of the political Left and Mystical Anarchists like Blok’s fellow-Symbolist, Georgii Chulkov, who sought societal transformation through different means. These constituencies nonetheless shared Blok’s eulogizing of Kommissarzhevskaia as a sign of hope in the future, as the ' unfurled banner of a promised Spring,” a symbol fbr the immortality and boundlessness of the spirit. Despite its failure in K ugel’s system of aesthetics, Kommissarzhevskaia’s ideological platform, privileging the potential inherent in the process o f self-discovery or even self-sacrifice, the quest over the goal, shaped perception of the actress’s cultural relevance. By “marching with the times and with the literature” (la shla vmeste s vremenem, vmeste s nashei literaturoi) (Gurevich in Alkonost 1911:171). Kommissarzhevskaia’s personal and professional biographies were closely intertwined with the historical progression around her. As subsequent chapters will illustrate, Kommissarzhevskaia’s writing style and discourse were indeed influenced by the varied impulses o f her culture and social identity; a discourse that, like the philosophy of the aesthetic intelligentsia, vacillated between Neo-Romanticism, naturalism, metaphysical Symbolism, and even latent iconoclastic Futurism. She borrowed Ruskin’s ideas on social action and the redemptive power o f Art, but rejected his principles of civic order based on gender distinction. The actress shared Kollontai’s disregard o f Feminist concerns for emancipation in favor of more wide-sweeping reforms for men and women, yet spent most of her finances to promote an elitist art that appealed to a select segment o f the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 3 population. For Chekhov, and even Kugel' to some extent, Kommissarzhevskaia was the wandering seagull, wounded by the world, but defiant in her devotion to art; for the Symbolists, her defiance was idealized by the sacrifice o f the individual for a higher ideal; fbr her young actors and public, her voice conveyed the ardent instruction o f a teacher and visionary who, like Zinaida Gippius, one o f the period’s most strident women’s voices, sought “to use art as a means to move the world further.”^’ These voices represent the complexity o f the Silver Age, and their reflections are found in the dis course and themes in Kommissarzhevskaia’s personal letters. For this reason, I suggest that Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters in particular can also stand as cultural artefact, since they contain the expression not just of an individual voice but also function as testimony to a transitional age, in Berdiaev’s phrase, as “witness not o f the beginning o f a new era, but of the end o f an old one” (Berdiaev 1962:142). The occurrence o f these conflicting and contradictory tendencies in the text of Kommissarzhevskaia’s collected letters point to the dilemma o f self-definition for tum-of-the-century women. Their presence also suggests that the replication of socially derived discourse in self-reflexive texts can serve as metacommentary on the society of which it is a product, and suggest comparison with Carlson’s (1996) distinction of “theatrical” from “cultural” performance.^- As such, perhaps we can also consider Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters likewise as the “point of conflict” in which she acts out herself as representative o f those “crazy, frightening, but wonderful years.”" * ^ Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 NOTES TO CHAPTER I 1. The first published biographies about Kommissarzhevskaia functioned as publicity pamphlets to promote interest during her service with the Alexandrine Theater (Zabrezhnev 1898; Beliaev 1898, 1900). The earliest fiill-length biography makes use o f her letters to portray the actress as dedicated, inspired artiste (Turkin 1910). Subsequent biographies, written under the political exigencies o f the Soviet regime, focus on the actress as theater reformer and social activist (Tal’nikov 1939; Markov 1950; Nosova 1964; Rybakova 1971). See the separate bibliography Works Relating to Kommissarzhevskaia fbr additional references. In the West, critical discussion o f Kommissarzhevskaia to date constitutes only part o f larger cultural studies. See, fbr example, Golub (1994) and Schuler (1996). A similarity in topic suggests that these later studies may have been influenced by Laurence Senelick’s pioneering article, “Vera Kommissarzhevskaia: The Actress as Symbolist Eidolon” (Senelick 1980). 2. One sign of the Dramatic Theater’s notoriety in its day is the preponderance o f parodies on Dramatic Theater’s Symbolist productions that filled the roster o f popular entertainment theaters. (This aesthetic confrontation could be considered indicative of the elite-populari dialogue that characterized the period. See Jelavich (1982)). According to listings in the theater guide Obozrenie teatrov (30 Dec 1907/2 Jan 1908), audiences could view Leonid Andreev’s solemn Zhizn’ cheloveka {Life o f Mari) at the Dramatic Theater one night, and Zhizn’ cheloveka na iznanku {Life o f M an Inside-Oiit) at the Ekaterinskii Theatre the next; Dramatic Theater productions o f Wedekind’s controversial Probuzhdenie vesnv {Awakening o f Spring) and Remizov’s Besovskoe deistvo nad nekim muzhem {Devilry) were lampooned in another theater as Probuzhdenie vesnv ili Besovskoe deistvo nad nekim muzhem. Zimnii bred v 3-x stilizatsiiax (The Awakening o f Spring or Devilry. Winter M adness in Three Stylizations). It is possible the Arcade Theater company’s production o f Beatrica po prozvishchu Krysolovka {Beatrice the Rat-Catcher) was a spoof on D’Annunzio’s beatific Sister Beatrice, which Kommissarzhevskaia had premiered in November 1907. In the last two decades there was renewed interest in the actress’s personal life. A feature movie was made loosely based on her life (Ledypin 1982). Admirers were also provided with a walking tour o f St. Petersburg locales associated with Kommissarzhevskaia (Kamenetskaia et al., 1972). 3. When considering audience reception o f foreign performers, the topic o f popularity as a cultural construct must be addressed. Befbre the days o f super-titles and simultaneous translation, good management and a touch of sensationalism influenced a performer’s degree of success with U.S. theater audiences. For a study o f the impact of Russian touring companies in the U.S. earlier this century, see Senelick (1992). As Senelick notes, Kommissarzhevskaia’s financially-disastrous 1909 tour o f New York and Philadelphia did not reflect the exalted stature the actress enjoyed in her native Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 country (“The American Tour o f Orlenev and Nazimova,” 1-15; 11). Indeed, the Dramatic Theater’s poor showing was the result o f a series of weak managerial decisions on the part o f her American sponsors, combined with the actress’s staunch refusal to discuss the volatile political situation in Russia. See Chapter in o f the present study for a further discussion o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s 1909 U.S. tour. 4. The major repositories for Kommissarzhevskaia-related materials are the Bakhrushin State Theater Museum [GTM] (Moscow), Russian State Archives fbr Literature and Art [RGALI] (Moscow), St. Petersburg State Theater Museum's archive section [StPGTM], Russian National Library [RGB] (Moscow), The Academy o f Sciences Institute o f Russian Literature (Pushkin House) [IRLI] (St. Petersburg); the Russian National Library archive section [RNB] (St. Petersburg). Individual notes and letters by Kommissarzhevskaia can also be found in the personal archives o f her many correspondents. There are two documented cases o f provenance for the Kommissarzhevskaia materials. In September, 1918, Kommissarzhevskaia’s sister Olga donated Kommissarzhevskaia memorabilia to the Bakhrushin Theater Museum (part o f GTM f. 116). Many of these items form the actress’s permanent museum display. No personal letters were bestowed at that time. A major private donation was made to RGALI sometime in the late 1950s or early 1960s by Kommissarzhevskaia's long-time associate, A.A. D’iakonov (Stavrogin). The actor’ s own personal archive concerning Kommissarzhevskaia and her theaters was extensive and later enriched by additional items from the collection o f Komissarzhevskaia's brother, Fedor. The so-called "D’iakonov Treasure" included letters and telegrams among objects such as photos, daybooks, and costume. (See Rudnitskii 1968:preface; Konchin 1968). The above partial list of information regarding Kommissarzhevskaia archival holdings information is intended only to indicate the complexity o f researching the actress’s life and accomplishments. The diversity of locales housing the actress’s letters attests to the breadth o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s correspondences, and the letters’ longevity suggests the significance her correspondents ascribed to the actress’s written texts. 5. The question o f complicity in relationship to the Symbolist poets was first raised by Senelick (1980). Schuler (1996) investigates broader social implications o f this in her chapter, “Little Girl Lost. The Deification o f Vera Kommissarzhevskaia.” Golub (1994) similarly locates Kommissarzhevskaia’s complicity as fem m e fragile (as opposed to the fem m e fatale model). Schuler (1996) argues for the elevation of the “new gender ideology” o f fem ininity that “required its bearer to project the image o f a fragile, ethereal, rather helpless child” as the guiding principle o f audience and critical approbation and for Kommissarzhevskaia’s complicity in promoting this image. Schuler’s argument, based primarily on sources readily available in the West, presents only one of the classifications o f image discussed in this dissertation. These texts are concerned with reception, and as such the limited type cast presented Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 has more to do with the nature of contemporary response regarding theater and performance than it does with images o f the topic’s private self. I do not mean to discredit this approach, but the arguments cited above are largely based on reviews written by Aleksandr Kugel’ (described later in this chapter). Kugel’ advocated the supremacy of Realism and the actor’s theater, and his views brought him in conflict with Kommissarzhevskaia, Konstantin Stanislavsky and others. Kugel’s memoir o f Kommissarzhevskaia (in Kugel’ 1967) is relatively sympathetic; fbr a broader view of the critic’s platform, see lankovskii (1967). 6. Redford and Todd both analyzed the familiar letter, a literary form popular among early I9*-century literary circles. See also Stepanov (1963). For a literary analysis of Valerii Briusov’s epistolary style, see Gasparov (1991). 7. Extensive published collections of Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters include Al’tshuller (1964) (referred to as Letters in this dissertation) and Rudnitskii (1965). Besides publication in collected letters of famous correspondents (such as Mariia Andreeva, Anton Chekhov, Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko, Aleksei Remizov, Konstantin Stanislavsky, et al ), Kommissarzhevskaia letters are the topic o f articles or separate chapters in: Alkonost (1911); Bravich (1912); Sobolev (1930); Nazarova (1956); Mordison et al. (1956); Rybakova (1960); Vdovin (1970), Dubnova (1979). Political exigency affected editorial decisions in the compilation of Letters, in which passages of a "strictly personal" nature were omitted. Archival research allowed me to reconstruct some letters in their entirety (e.g., ”lz pis’ma E.P. Karpovu” (May 1900) #80 Letters 77 omission: “You know the kind o f close effect these female indispositions have on one’s psychological state” (LGTM opu 1705, kn6464/2a/6 Kapnosy (6.fl.); “E.P. Karpovu” (16 Aug. 1901) #129 Letters 111-112) omission: “1 think one of kidneys is inflamed. I was in so much pain that I shouted aloud ” (LGTM opu 1728 kn6464/22, KapnoBy (6.fl.)). Several extremely intimate letters to Briusov were not published until the Soviet period (see Chapter IV). 8. The discourse o f New Historicism points to its Marxist orientation. As Stephen Greenblatt (1989:12-13) writes in his platform article, “It is in response to this practice [theories that are based on the bipolar distinction of art vs. reality-^//n] that contemporary theory must situate itself; not outside interpretation, but in the hidden places of negotiation and exchange. ” 9. In “On Literary Evolution,” Yurii Tynianov (1976) used letters as an example to distinguish “social ” from “literary” fact. The “familiar letter” o f Derzhavin is a “social fact,” since its linguistic characteristics were representative o f its cultural milieu, and Derzhavin’s letter served only the function of social communication. The “familiar letter” from the period o f Karamzin and Pushkin is a “literary fact” because these texts are essentially self-referential. Fellow Formalist Nikolai Stepanov (1963) explained that I9thc familiar letters were “literary fact” because they can be perceived as a “laboratory for linguistic experimentation.” Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 10. “Iz pis'ma N.N. Khodotovu” (May 1901) #122 Letters 107. 11. Cline’s mention of Zinaida Gippius’ diary citation, “No one knows what a part o f me my letters are!” (66) is one o f the few references to Russian cultural figures in her compendium. Disappointingly, the heading “Actresses and Theater Managers” contains entries for published letters written by popular English actresses (e.g., Ellen Terry, Frances Kemble, Mrs Patrick Campbell) but no mention of letters by Russian performers. This omission is due probably to the lack o f comprehensive English translations o f Russian actresses’ letters other than a few sources. See bibliography for references for Marina Savina (Gottleib, et al. 1973) and Marie BashkirtsefF whose writings have long been available in English (among the earliest English editions are Bashkirtseflfl890, 1891). 12. “M L Ziloti” (September 1902) #154 Letters 122. 13. “A.S. Suvorinu ” (early August 1902) #149 Letters 119. 14. “Iz pis’ma N.N. Khodotovu” (end July 1900) # 84 Letters 85. 15. The relevant portion o f the poem is as follows: “M Bora rjiac k g m hc B 033B aJi:/ «BoccraHb, npopoK, h bhxm b, a BHeM JiH,//HcnoJiHHCb BOJieio M oeô,/H, o 6 x o a % M opa H acM JiH/ rJia ro jiO M tkth c e p jm a Jiio fle il» .” (And the voice o f God summoned me: Prophet, arise, and see and hear, and be filled with my will. Go throughout the seas and earth, and emblaze people’s hearts with the Word” (“The Prophet” 1826). In his 1892 lectures “On the Decline and New Tendencies in Contemporary Russian Literature,” Merezhkovskii discussed the transformational power of art leading to a higher consciousness. Truth. 16. Especially during the first decade of the century, the institution of theater functioned as a microcosm for the transformation that was taking place in social life: this is illustrated by the rise in the number of experimental theaters, an expanding dramaturgy, and constant discussion over the function and meaning of theater and performance. In fact, Kommissarzhevskaia’s 1909 resignation from theater came at a time when these topics were the subject of open argument among proponents o f the New Art, with Meierkhol’d insisting on the integrity o f art in stylized theater, and Briusov and Andreii Belii for a Symbolist realism that moved art into the realm o f religious rite. Indicative o f the rise in a new aesthetic appreciation of theater was the 1908 collection, Teatr Kniga o novom teatre. Its contributors, Belii, Blok, Briusov, Nikolai Evreinov, Meierkhol’d, Fedor Sologub, among others, were all involved with Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater at one time or another. Senelick (1981) contains several English translations. 17. Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater and Stanislavsky’s Art Theater looked to European theater (e.g.. Max Reinhardt, Paul Fort, Adolphe Appia) for models and Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 mutual interaction (as in the case o f Gordon Craig’s work at the Art Theater). A brief comparison indicates how closely Kommissarzhevskaia based her inventory o f theatrical innovation on the productions in Max Reinhardt’s Chamber Theater and the mixed naturalist-symbolist repertory o f Paul Fort’s earlier Théâtre d’Art, to the extent o f employing leading easel artists as set designers. In April 1907 Meierkhol’d and Fedor Komisaijevsky traveled to Germany to study Chamber Theater productions. In a letter to his wife, Meierkhol’d applauded Reinhardt’s concept o f stylized production, but faulted the company for a lack o f comprehension of the subtlety needed to perform Maeterlinck. See “V £ . Meierkhol’d-O.M. Meierkhol’d” (4 April 1907) #98 (Meierkhol’d 1976:85-86). In 1909, Kommissarzhevskaia detoured from a trip to Paris in hopes of seeing the Reinhardt theater production o f Hebbel’s Judith in Munich (see ' Iz pis’ma V.A. Podgomomu, ” #272 Letters 177. (The performance was canceled, but the actress nonetheless premiered the role in her theater later that season). In terms o f the democratization o f the theater, in Russia a combination o f eased restrictions on theater entrepreneurship and financial imperative encouraged this end: e.g., the Vasileostrov Theater provided a repertory of interest to the working class region in which it was located; private clubs like Aleksandr Kugel ’s Crooked Mirror or, slightly later, Aleksandr Tairov’s Chamber Theater attracted the intelligentsia who had earlier disdained the cliche State theater offerings. Societal appraisal o f theater was also changing. Towards the end o f the nineteenth century, for the first time theater reviews began to appear regularly in the Russian press, and the popular “thick journals” devoted space to discussion o f dramatic theory and practice. During roughly the first decade of the century, over 130 journals and newspapers in St. Petersburg and Moscow alone regularly published information on the theater. For an historical study o f Russian tum-of-the-century theater reception, see Petrovskaia (1990). IS. By the early-twentieth century, there were twice as many women as men employed in St. Petersburg theaters. A century before, actors were primarily from peasant stock, whereas by the turn o f the century especially women actors would claim middle-class roots. See Leikina-Svirskaia (1981) for a demographic breakdown of Russian actors at the turn of the century. 19. For certain segments o f the population, the Women’s Movement was viewed as a threat to cultural stability because it challenged traditional roles for men and women. S ho waiter (1990) and Engelstein (1992) discuss tum-of-the-century gender issues. For specific references to the women’s movement in Russia, see Clements et al. (1991); Glickman (1984); Edmondson ( 1984), Stites (1978). 20. Kommissarzhevskaia was one o f several entrepreneurs in St. Petersburg during the first decade of the century. These women traded theater locales and had a similar desire to stage the latest European and Russian drama. Lidiia lavorskaia opened her New Theater in St. Petersburg in 1901. lavorskaia had once trained at the Comédie Française and saw herself as heir to the tradition o f Sarah Bernhardt. Her theater featured the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 latest dramaturgy, along with plays written by her third husband. Count V. V. Bariatinskii. In her letters, Kommissarzhevskaia’s remarks concerning lavorskaia are not flattering (see “N. A _ Popovu” #213 Letters 150, and ‘Tsl.E. Efrosu” #218 Letters 153). Olga Nekrasova-Kolchinskaia had rented the Arcade Theater during 1902-03 and later the Nemetti Theater on Officer Street theater, prior to Kommissarzhevskaia. In her theater, Nekrasova-Kolchinskaia played the female lead to accompaniment by the Algelheim brothers. Elizaveta Shabelskaia was a friend o f lavorskaia. In 1900-02 she rented the Nemetti Theater, and performed works by Gorkii and Stanislaw Przybyshevsl^r. These theaters were located in advantageous locations, and it is probably that high rent, low box office receipts, and the paucity o f strong new dramatic works forced their closing after a few seasons. 21. The analogy o f the theater company as ‘household’ has had much mileage in the literature. Sayler (1925:26) includes a whimsical description o f the Moscow Art Theater from a contemporaneous review: “The Mhat [sic] family was respectable and patriarchal. The father (Stanislavsky) devoted himself with the aid o f all available textbooks on psychology, to educating his children in accordance with his own system. The mother, whose maiden name was Nemirovitch-Dantchenko, took care of the house. If the couple ever quarreled, it was only for a short time, but they never did their washing in public. The children were neat, well-groomed, well-bred, and obedient; they never spoke in the presence of their elders. Everyone envied this family.” Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater company never remained stable long enough to conjure a similar description. 22. Likewise, Kent (1977) has suggested the unique quality o f the theater as an “area of special dispensation from the normal categories, moral and social, that defined women’s place." Although Kent specifically discusses Edwardian England, this observation also helps to clarify the reason for the rise in the number o f women attracted to a theater career in Russia towards the turn of the century and the prestige that successful actresses were able to attain. The topic o f tum-of-the-century societal attitudes towards actresses is largely absent in the Russian critical literature. However, Feminist scholars have amply studied this phenomenon in the European context of the period. See Gardner et al. (1991), Davis ( 1986, 1991), Holledge (1981). Davis ( 1989) provides a good general bibliography. 23. After a brief marriage to a provincial actor, Savina married Nikita Vsevolozhski], a cavalry officer who was related to the head of the Imperial Theaters, Ivan Vsevolozhski]. Her third husband, A.E. Molchanov, was Vice President o f the Theater Society. Kommissarzhevskaia never remarried after a devastating early marriage. 24. An example o f this model for Western scholars is found in Spencer Golub’s (1994) treatment o f the actress. While reminding readers o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s advocacy of the New Art, Golub nonetheless reduces her significance to a cultural icon representing Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 the fem m e fragile, the self-sacrificing sister to the erotically-motivated fem m e fa ta le o f male fantasy. 25. Izmailov (1908) composed lampoons o f popular literature and drama in the style of Crooked Mirror productions. Besides parodies on Symbolist poets (in particular, Konstantin Balmont, Zinaida Gippius, Viacheslav Ivanov, and Aleksandr Blok), Izmailov also took on Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater, providing readers with literary parodies o f plays by Wedekind ( Wedekind i Vunderkind”) and Aleksei Remizov (“Potok-Boratyr na Besovskom deistve”). Meierkhol’d premiered Wedekind’s Awakening of Spring at the Dramatic Theater on 15 September 1907, and Remizov’s Besovskoe deÿstvo. .. (Devilry) was premiered 4 December 1907. 26. Brushtein (1956:74) compared a New Man who rejected the New to a tone deaf singer. 27. "Ham—ocoôeHHO pyccKHM— Tearp, HCKOsepKaHHWH M ockobckhm XyjtoxecTBeHHfciM TeaxpoM, KaK crapax Pycb 6biJia HCKOBepKana nerpoM . tbk HTO flo C H X nop He M OXceT naitTH ceSa.” Kugel ’s insistence on historical context; recognition of nationalist sources, avoidance of “searching,” theater as theater and not a rejection of theater diverged from the fundamentals of New Theater. 28. Cf. Kugel' ‘s (n.d.r 17-18) description o f initial meetings of Kommissarzhevskaia’s reorganized theater staff: H chto Bpofle T a fO D C TopacecTBeH M X aaceaaHHH ycrpaHBaJicx:b b rearpe B.4>. K oM H ccapxceBCK oii, Korjra oetJiBJieH 6bui "hobuh icypc". B (poHe, no cnynaio ''TopxcecTBeH H oro aaceaamut”, aaxoiraJiHCb TpexceeH H H K H . yxpameHHbix UBeraM H. "3bi6Ko KOJie6ajiocb rniaMX," a "opaTopbi" h "BaoxHOBirreJiH" aro ro so HCTHHy HecHacTHoro reaxpa no uenbiM nacaM ynMBajiHCb coCxrrBeHHbiM xpacHopenHcM, npn new o TeaTpe 6buio crojibKo hjih nonrH crojibKo xce, cKOJibXo b "oTT.eaHHeHHbix" yrecax h " aaTHiube JianyHMbtx Mopen" K. fl. BajibMOHTa. AxTpebi no "flpeMOTHoe BopKOBaHHe KOJib:6enbHOH necHH" crapaJiHCb SH H K H V Tb a aaaann HOBoro Teaxpa, mwero ne noHHMaJiH, noroiny hto h noHHMaTb to 6btJio nenero. h TOJinyjiH B Mope nycrbix, caepxy noaojioMCHHbix tppaa. 3areM, o r c r o m TopxcecTBeHHyio BenepHic. nrpajiH cnaGo. crapaacb aonojioTHTb HeaonJioTHMoe h H3o6pa3HTb HeH3o6pa3HMoe, qxo o r hhx rpeôoaaJiH oxonne go penen rocnofla oparopbi. H a aaxnioHeHHe, xorqa aoropejiH rpexcaenHHicH h 3aa»JiH ayuracTbre naexbi, re a rp nonf6 6ea BcxxoA nojibabi fljm ce6ji h 6c3 acsiKoro cjieaa ajw OKpyxcaiomHx. 29. Kugel'’s journal, Teatr i iskusstvo. tended to portray all St. Petersburg actresses, except for Savina and Zinaida Kholmskaia, in a negative light. 30. Referring to another actress’s poor performance, Kugel apparently commented “3Ty pojib cbirpajia 6bi ropasflo JiyHme...fla»ce KoMMHccapsKeBcicaH "'(Even Kommissarzhevskaia could p la y this role much better). In Brushtein (1956: 76-77). 31. "V ia. Briusovu" #252 (12 November 1907) Letters 168. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 32. In his biographical sketch, lankovskii (1967:3-60) suggests that Kugei'’s sometimes contradictory reviews o f Kommissarzhevskaia were emblematic o f the times and his own personality: "Kyrejn. b TCKymnx oueHKax KoMMHCcapaceBCKOô T oxe OTpaacaJi rjiySoKHe npoTHBopenH» BpeweHH h co6cTBeHHOô jihhhocth. Oh Hepe^KO ôbiBaji acecroKo HecnpaBeflJiHB k HeÈ, b HacTHOcTH OKaaajicR ghkhm H3 Tex, K T O Hanec e& rJiy6oKyio pany aa Hnny SapcMHyio- " (Kugel'’s displeasure with Chekhov's The Seagull, referred to at the end of the quote, above, is another topic for discussion). 33. “What do the most wonderful colors mean if there is no sun?” Kugel' wrote in a review of Kommissarzhevskaia's Alexandrine debut, contrasting her with Savina, who during her own debut had “turned people’s heads” fPeterburgskaia gazeta (6 April 1896) in Chronicle 75). Other reviewers shared Kugel s views, at least in part; Kommissarzhevskaia herself was not pleased with her debut performance. 34. (Homo Novus) Review in Peterburgskaia gazeta f 14 April 1896) in Chronicle 76. 35. (A. K-el'). Teatr i iskusstvo (18991 No. 10:210 in Chronicle 114. (Kugel' s fatherly advice clouded the fact that he and the actress were chronologically agemates). Additional excerpts from Kugel 's reviews are included in Chapter II of this dissertation. 36. As editor for the liberal journal Northern Messenger (Severnyi vestnik) in the late 1890s, Volynskii was one o f the first to publish Merezhkovskii's work. It was probably around this time that Volynskii first met Kommissarzhevskaia, and a letter to him from the actress written in summer 1899 indicates that they planned to meet in Italy, where Volynskii was visiting with her father, Fedor Komisaijevsky. He also apparently helped her prepare the role o f Ophelia for a November 1900 Alexandrine Theater premiere of Shakespeare's Hamlet (Chronicle 149). 37. “V.E. Meierkhol'd - P.P. Komissarzhevskomu” (10 July 1907) #116 (Meierkhol'd 1976: 100). 38. On tour with Kommissarzhevskaia in late 1909, Arkadii Zonov mentioned in a letter to Aleksei Remizov that he was having difficulty understanding Ivanov's text on symbolist theater. Among the Stars {Po zvezJam), which Kommissarzhevskaia had apparently given him to read. It is possible that the actress did not have the same difficulty: Ivanov's insistence on symbolism's process-oriented nature neatly coincided with her own aesthetic o f unrestricted expression. 39. “Iz pis'ma E.P. Karpovu” (July 1900) #86 Letters 82. 40. 'T^l.N. Khodotovu " (May 1901) #122 Letters 107. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 4L Gippius’ (1908:157) defense o f Berdiaev: “M ti nojibayeMca HCKyccTBOM KaK CpeRCTBOM H T 0 6 bI flBHHyTI» MHp flajibuie.” 42. The significance of metacommentary in the performance distinguishes theatrical performance, during which “performers and audience alike accept that a primary function o f this activity is precisely cultural and social metacommentary, the exploration o f self and other, or the world as experienced, and o f alternative possibilities ’ As Carlson explains, in “cultural” performance (such a communal rituals), metacommentary is present, but not conscious and not central to the act. (Carlson 1995:196). 43. Aleksandr Blok, “Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia.” Blok’s e u lo ^ to the actress was published in Rech’ (12 February 1910). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 “You’re not from a theater school— you’re from the school o f life\ We’ve waited a long time for such an actress, one who would bring with her the image and psyche of the new Russian woman: her soul, what she has gained by sufrering, how she &ces the mystery of existence, and all the accursed questions of woman’s lot in life." “Was this really true? In my case, it could not have been otherwise.” ~P. Boborykin. "OnwardJ Onward! (The Confessions o f a Female Performer) " (1913)* ‘ n. The New Russian Woman: Kommissarzhevskaia’s Life and W ork In compiling a biographical overview of Kommissarzhevskaia’s life and work, I am confronted with the issue o f biographical truthfulness in the accounts on which the present study is based. In any biographical writing the writer's voice functions to shape the reader’s perception o f the subject’s personality. For example, Petr Boborykin’s fictionalized biography o f Kommissarzhevskaia, “Onward! Onward!,” “lays bare” the device of its literary form. Boborykin’ used his social position as a well-known popular writer and critic for Artist (Artist) to promote Kommissarzhevskaia during her early acting career. The writer used the fictional form o f “Onward! Onward!” to echo his advocacy of Kommissarzhevskaia as model for the New “Femininity” (zhenstvennost ’ ), a term that implied a combination o f fragility, enduring faith, and experience gained through suffering,^ and wrote himself into the story as a father-confessor figure, the “writer-artist” who consoles his young female friend when her acting is not well received and admonishes her when experimentation with style and technique, in his * “Bbi Bbioum He H 3 TearpaJibHofr mKQJibi, a m a n c o n u s fo a m A Taxofr apTHCTKH qasHO see M bi xqeM. TaKoâ, Koropaa npHHecJia 6bi c co6oio oGpaa h ncHXHKy hoboh pyccxoA xceunnibi, ee flymy, to , hto ona Bbicrpanana. to , xax oua c to h t nepea Taônoft SbiTMu h nepeq bcomh npOKJMTblMH BO fipOCaM H XCHCKOA R O JIH . KasceTCH, 3to 6buio aepno? H aane h He Morjio 6biTb co mhok>." Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 44 view, threatens her integrity as an actress. The plot o f Boborykin’s story Allows the major events that took place in the life o f Kommissarzhevskaia, and its theme focuses on the type o f self-revelations that, according to Boborykin, developed Vera Fedorov na as an actress. Knowing the essence o f Boborykin’s support of the actress from his reviews o f her work and elsewhere, we see that the writer’s own ideology is clearly etched in his description o f the fictitious actress’s aesthetic and spiritual dilemmas. Yet, are biographies that are less fictionalized than Boborykin’s story any less biased towards the convictions of their authors? The conclusion reached by recent scholars on this issue is to the contrary. Since the implications o f their findings are relevant to my own attempts to produce a biographical sketch of the actress, I will discuss the results before proceeding to my own brief analysis o f the actress’s life and work. The conundrum o f historical accountability in biographical or autobiographical texts has recently surfaced in theater history scholarship (Woods 1989; Postlewait 1989). Theater historians maintain a contention long held by literary scholars: the literary text of a personal history offers at best a created identity dictated by literary and generic considerations rather than historical accuracy. Scholarship indicates that this observation is especially problematic for theater as a profession, and critics point to examples of deliberate “mystifiers” such as the mid-nineteenth century English actor Edmund Kean, who created stories about his youth in order to deflect societal condem nation o f his illegitimate birth, or the eccentricities o f Sarah Bernhardt, whose geneal ogy likewise deviated from the accepted norm. Wilshire (1982) suggests that an actor’s success “traps him in exhibitionism” by engendering a psychological need for similar Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 45 obfuscation in private life. However, it seems more productive to consider this tendency as an example o f the “strategies of deflection” (Spacks 1988:178) described in Chapter I, since deliberate alteration o f biographical facts to reflect the constructed public image would aid self-commodification. On the surface, the mystification tendency outlined above might seem to have a counterpart in the concept o f “life creation” crucial to early-twentieth century Russian. cultural life. Developed through the philosophical theories o f Vladimir Solov’ev and Nikolai Fedorov during the early years of the century, the essence o f ‘life creation’ was the rejection of the division between art and reality. Andrei Belii summarized this impulse in his platform thesis “Theatre and Modem Drama ”: “Art occurs whenever a summons to creativity is also a summons to create life” (Senelick 151). However, the precepts of these two concepts are actually quite diflferent. The topic of self-mystifica tion and the impact o f life creation on the lives o f the aesthetic intelligentsia is essential to the study of the Russian Silver Age, and many individuals who ascribed to this world view (e.g., the poets and writers associated with Viacheslav Ivanov’s St. Petersburg “Tower,” Valerii Briusov’s Moscow-based publishing house “The Scales,” artists associated with the World of Art group) were involved with Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater especially during its final period (1906-1909). Yet contrary to Wilshire (see above), the psychological impact o f an acting career does not explain the tum-of-the-century prevalence among certain cultural groups in Russia to aesthetically arrange the facts o f their personal lives as life creation demanded. Life creation was originally a literary constmct, and for twentieth-century Russian Decadents and Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 Symbolists, as well as for their Futurist counterparts, mystifying identity was a reper cussion from the previous century’s Romantic integration o f life into art (e.g., Ginzburg (1979, 1991); Chursina (1988); Papemo (1988); Lotman (1994)) transformed into a Russian model largely through the writings of Solov’ev and Fedorov (Masing-Delic (1994), Papemo (1994)). Life creation was an ideological and philosophical response to the nature o f art rather than an attempt to acquire or maintain social respectability. Moreover, if we accept the theory outlined that conflict with social convention induces actors to manipulate biographical facts or, on the other hand, if an aesthetic consanguin ity between the adherents of life-creation and Komissarzhevskaia herself could be estab lished, then we might also suspect a similar degree of self-mystification in the actress’s presentation of her own personal history, therefore resulting in contradictory biographi cal renditions. Obfuscation would not appear to have been a concern for the actress and perhaps not possible, due to her family’s social position as part of the St. Petersburg ‘aesthetic’ or ‘creative’ intelligentsia. Her appeal as an actress ‘from the school o f life’ and, conversely, the similarity between episodes in her private history with popular fiction (e.g., melodrama, romantic novels) further blurred the boundary between art and life. For the most part, the anecdotal detail and character construct in biographies of Kommissarzhevskaia (e.g., Turkin (1910); Tal’nikov (1939); Markov (1950); Nosova (1964), Rybakova (1971)) form consistent images o f the actress. One answer for the actress’s consistent biographical treatment lies in her own attitude towards autobiographical writing. Although known for her writing proclivity. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 Kommissarzhevskaia did not undertake her own memoirs. At least on one occasion the actress declined an offer to write about herself; an episode which can be interpreted as an example o f the actress’s lack o f need to mystify her personal facts for publicity aims: Your advice is enticing, [an offer to write an autobiographical sketch-t/m| but at the same time impossible. Here is why: the activiw, you suggest undoubtedly provides much psychological satisfaction but first of all. I would never agree to be guided in this instance by the saying that it’s better to be a big fish. etc. In this you have to be the big fish or nobocfy. I concede to what th»' say about me— that "no. she’s nothing like Ermolova.” But I won’t agree that after they read my piece they say "yes. nice, but that’s all.”* ("N. V. Turkinu” (May 1894) #4 Letters 37) This is not to imply that the actress avoided all means to shape public opinion. Indeed. as this passage and excerpts from other letters suggest, Kommissarzhevskaia was aware o f her ability to verbalize her thoughts. Her standards for self-commodification were high; she preferred not to let being a ‘big fish in a small pond’ jeopardize her public image. Separating art fi'om life was a particularly vexing occupation for Kommissarzhevskaia’s supporters and critics alike. In fact, the “life-likeness” of her early acting style was part o f the key to her popularity with certain audiences: “Vera Fedorovna’s acting can’t be called art— it is life itself’ (1894); “Madame Kommissarzhevskaia acted as only she can, although...the word “act” little suits this * B coBere Bamew ecn> MHoro saMaiPiHBoro ho b to xce speMB Bbt roBopHTe HeBosMoacHbie Bern» B or noieMy: npegnaraewaB BawH aejrrejibHocn. HecoMHCHHo aaer oqeub mhofo b cMbicne HpaBCTBeHHoro ynoBJieTBopeHHB, ho, Bo-nepsux, b 6m HHKorga He corJiacHJiacb pyKO BogcTBOBaTbCJi npH 3TOM ACJie noroBopKoti. <rro Jiymne 6biTb nepBOH b gepcBHe h T-A - Tyr H M C H H o HyxHO 6biTb nepBofi B Phmc hjih H H K eM . H comacHa c rew, hto npo mchh cxaaaJiH. "Her. A O EpMOJiOBoft eft Aanexo." H a He corjiaxcycb, «rrofibi, npouTH mok) Beu(b, cxaaajiH "Aa, oqeHb M H JIO , H O H TOJIbKO. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 8 performer due to the natural impression she creates on stage” (1898)* (in Chronicle 40, 98, respectively). For her audience (critic and supporter alike), the actress’s historical (real life) personna was closely linked with the personality o f the characters she enacted on stage. ‘Tn Kommissarzhevskaia,” later wrote Vasilii Rozanov (1914), “everyone felt that “actress” and “person” merged into one. And it wasn’t the person who served the “actress,” but the “actress” served the person.”* The fact o f the actress’s relatively limited acting scope might in part provide a clue to this perception. Kommissarzhev skaia’s most successful roles taken together represent a similar type, and this seeming repetition functioned to reinforce a relatively constant model o f behavior and personal ity on the public perception. One o f the most strident examples o f role identity was the emphasis placed on the actress’s self-identity with fictional characters such as Anton Chekhov’s “seagull, ” Nina Zarechnaia, one of Kommissarzhevskaia’s signature roles. As discussed further in Chapter V, references to Nina Zarechnaia’s credo, “One need not fear life when one knows one’s vocation,” appear throughout the actress’s cor respondence."* Yet the actress also acknowledged a dual-self in less profound plays. Three years after her debut as Nina Zarechnaia, Kommissarzhevskaia cajoled her former governess A P Repina to see her performance in Sophia Smimova-Sazonova’s The Deluge by alluding to the role’s resemblance to her young self : “Come see me as * Eirpy r-acH KoMnccapaceBCKoft HejiK)» HaaeaTS H C K y cc T B O M — s to cawa xH3H b ; Hrpajia rxca KoMHccapxceBCKaa rax, xax tojibkd ona oana cnocoGna Hrpaxb, xoth ...cjiobo " H r p a " MaJio noaxcQHT K 3ToA apTH C TK e, TaKoe ecrecTBeHHoe aneqaTjreHue ona nponaBO R H T H a cuene. ** Bee q yB C T B O B ajiH , h to b Heü "ainpHca" h "qejioBeK" cnirrbi b O R H O . M He qejioBex cjiyaarr "aicrpHce, a "aicrpHca" cjiyaorr HejioBeiqr. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 49 Raechka, “ she wrote, “and you’ll remember what I was like as a schoolgirl” (in Karpov 1911:17). The actress was thirty-five at the time. Yet the conflict in public perception between the actress’s identification with artistically created types and general acknowledgment o f her modest, “unactress-like ” personal life ascribed a certain elusive quality to her private persona. In fact, although Kommissarzhevskaia participated in social causes by giving benefit readings and concerts for diverse social and political groups, her life “on the outside” has been described as a “monotonous, almost grey life;” Pavel lartsev later recalled that Kommissarzhevskaia “created a very simple life for herself hardly resembling a “famous” actress, and even almost not like an actress at all” (in Karpov 1911:278). Memorists and biographers were prompted to search for a key to the actress’s personal ity in order to define this elusiveness and the seeming contradiction between her private and professional lives. Certainly Boborykin’s fictionalized account exaggerates the extent to which, as a genre, biographical renderings are prone to distortion. Yet according to some theorists, not only is the “truthfulness” of autobiographies written by actors historically suspect, but biographies that are based on such autobiographies thereby inherit similar flaws. Moreover, the presence o f the author in the biographical text imbues the genre with perhaps even more susceptibility to promoting erroneous and misleading informa tion. As Corbett (1992) suggests, the composite set o f author’s and subject’s ideology, theoretical orientation, and cultural expectations must therefore be taken into consider ation in reconstructing the significance o f a past historical life. Therefore, the subse Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 0 quent discussion will be concerned with the facts of Kommissarzhevskaia's biography as well as the ways in which many o f these facts have been presented in the literature, in order to show how these texts advance the “created legend” o f Vera Kommissarzhev skaia/ Beginning at the End The teleological organization o f auto-/biographical narrative is especially apparent in studies o f Kommissarzhevskaia: her early demise influenced the formation of her public images perhaps even more than her stage roles had during her lifetime/ In the case of Konunissarzhevskaia, the details o f her tragic death (10 February 1910) at age 46 from smallpox while on tour in Tashkent served to build the image of the actress as sacrifice to Art, and her early death, in turn, saved her memory from the fate of actresses who remained on stage beyond their prime, continuing to perform youthful roles, unable to relinquish their former glory (Bernhardt) or reduced to poverty (Strepetova). Kommissarzhevskaia’s physical characteristics and exuberant tempera ment allowed her to continue to perform roles depicting girls or young women when she was well into her forties. In fact, she gave the final performance o f her lifetime as Rosie, in Hermann Sudermann’s popular comedy Battle o f the Butterflies, a signature role she had premiered fifteen years earlier. The timely coincidence helped to codify one o f the actress’s popular images, and infixed in the public mind through biographical accounts, the actress remained forever associated with youth and adolescent idealism. Thus, associations strengthened by the circumstances o f the actress’s untimely demise imbued episodes in her past life with an even greater significance. After her Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 1 demise, not only Kommissarzhevskaia’s legacy in the history o f Russian theater— the unprecedented productions in her Dramatic Theater, her innovative, transitional, acting style, her unfurling o f the New Art like a battle cry to a public and profession that had grown stale from dated drawing room comedies and vaudeville— but the major events in the actress’s personal life also became the stuff o f analysis and spectacle. This supposi tion is supported by the visual reminders o f the actress’s tragic end among the more standard publicity shots and candid, “at home,” poses included in the memoir literature pertaining to the actress: illustration of her closed casket, in state in a Tashkent church and later at the St. Petersburg Alexander Nevsky Monastery was itself a reminder of the disfiguring illness that had suddenly ended the actress’s life. A photograph of the funeral cavalcade, winding along Nevsky Prospect from the train station to the Alexan der Nevsky Monastery, visually captured the public sentiment that surrounded the actress’s early death: the crowd was said to have outnumbered Fedor Dostoevsky’s cortège along roughly the same route less than thirty years before. The institution of the still and motion camera as means to commemorate historical events and artistically arrange the facts o f those events allowed the actress’s final Journey to be captured on film and relived at movie theaters by her contemporaries;^ it also enabled Kommissarzhevskaia’s life story to be re-enacted on the big screen for audiences more than a half-century later (Ledypin 1982). Publicity photos served an immediate, mercantile function, but the function of the documentary depicting the actress’s funeral procession has broader implications: it supports my claim that the events of her life were filtered through conceptualization of her physical end. Moreover, because death Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 2 came in Tashkent, where the actress was raising money for a “school for the New Person,” far away from St. Petersburg audiences whose indifference had forced the closing of her Dramatic Theater, Kommissarzhevskaia's life began to be read and re read as a spiritual pilgrimage; a series o f passionate, self-consuming steps towards greater service to Art and Community. Yet unlike the traditional novel of maturation, the Bildungsroman, Kommissarzhevskaia’s life story, as told in biographical accounts, results not in self-knowledge but self-sacrifice and even apotheosis. Indeed, Kommissarzhevskaia’s life and work has been one o f the most popular subject for biographies o f Russian actresses written this century. The first published biographies about Kommissarzhevskaia functioned as publicity pamphlets to promote interest in Kommissarzhevskaia during her years o f service with the Imperial Alexan drine Theater, when the actress contended with Maria Savina for public approbation (Zabrezhnev, 1898; Beliaev 1899, 1900). The earliest full length biography uses her letters on which to draw its story and eulogizes the actress as a dedicated, inspired artiste (Turkin 1910). Subsequent biographies, written under the political exigencies of the Soviet regime, focus on the actress as theater reformer and social activist (Tal’nikov 1939, Markov 1950, Nosova 1964, Rybakova 1971). Biographical treatments can also be found in Alkonost (1911), Karpov (1911) Al’bom (1915), Sbomik (1931). Major collections of letters can be found in Al’tshuller (1964) Rudnitskii (1965). Kommissarzhevskaia is also included in period studies (Amfiteatrov 1928), (Khodotov 1932), (Serebrov 1955), (Verigina 1974), (Mandel’shtam 1966), et al. (See Chapter I, Note 7, and bibliography). To date the most ambitious treatments Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 3 o f Kommissarzhevskaia in Western literature can be found in Schuler (1996), Golub (1994), and Senelick (1981), although these studies apply the subject o f Kommissarzhevskaia to analysis o f early twentieth century cultural patterns rather than provide independent analysis o f the actress’s life and work. Nonetheless, the actress’s popularity can be abbreviated to two primary reasons. The sentimental appeal o f intense emotional events in the actress’s personal history helped to solidify the identification o f the actress with many o f her roles and increase the perception that “she always played herself” she “did not become embodied in the image ...She imbued the image with herself.and sang the song o f her life”* (Pitoev in Alkonost 103). On the socio-cultural level, audiences also saw her as representative of the New Art and adversary to theater routine not so much for her acting but for her decisions as directrisse of the Dramatic Theater. This was largely the appeal for the younger generation of artists, poets, and dramatists who eagerly sought to involve themselves in Kommissarzhevskaia’s theaters, e.g.: Leonid Andreev. 1908: A heartfelt tliank-you for staging Life of Man. This is a difficult piece, and only a young and bold theater such as yours can manage it... I hope tliat we will be able to work together in the future: Aleksandr Blok, 1908: I am not familiar witli Grilparzer s plays . but I will undertake a translation with great willingness. Be assured of my sincere respect and spiritual devotion to you: Stanislaw Przybyszewski. 1909: I've written a new play, unusually true-to-life. with an extemely animated and dramatic development of action. The main role is a woman of great inner tension and strength, superbly suited for you. (in D’iakonov 1940) * Bepa (hegopoBHa He BonjiontaJiacb b oOpaa . or ceGa einy oTgaBajia...H nena necHio aatSHH CBoeif. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 4 As discussed in Chapter L , the Dramatic Theater’s challenge to the State theater institution was part o f a larger movement in theater renewal that had been spearheaded in 1898 by the efforts o f Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko’s Moscow Art Theater. The Symbolist poets in particular looked to Kommissarzhevskaia’s theater as the theater o f the Future: “The Kommissarzhevskaia Theater represented the strange and captivating spectacle o f heroic battle for new forms o f scenic action,” “We kno w that Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia was not able to do what we all wanted: to create a new theater in Russia. She didn’t succeed, but nonetheless, the name of Kommissarzhevskaia is especially dear to us, and her pure memory will be preserved” (Fedor Sologub, in Alkonost 2). Acknowledgment of the actress’s ideological differences with the State theater system and her failure to create the ‘theater of the Future’ added the additional dimension of aesthetic martyr to the Kommissarzhevskaia legend. Kommissarzhevskaia did not write her memoirs, though, as previously cited, she was offered an occasion to do so early in her career. According to strategies of deflec tion’, rhetoric of denial’ as proposed by Spacks (1980, 1988), Postlewait (1989), and others (see Chapter I), Kommissarzhevskaia’s rejection o f the opportunity to advertise herself might be interpreted as acquiescence to social censure o f such activity by women. In her letter, the reason she presents is subtle, and essentially post-modern; it confirms accounts o f the actress’s sensitivity to questions o f text and authorship: Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 5 Give you a theme fiom tny life? I can’t help you there. First of all. to do this as I think it should be done is difficult— almost impossible. In order to give you a theme. I’d need to retell my entire life to you and then let you choose something from it that would speak to yoim imagination and creativity . But how can you retell a life?* (“E.P. Karpovu” (February 1898) #54 Letters: 66-67) However, biographers have not been as hampered in their search for a ‘theme’ to provide a defining meaning to Kommissarzhevskaia’s life. In the literature that abound ed after her death, the actress’s life was largely reduced to one fundamental model: the Romantic image of the Artist dedicated to the Ideal (the Sublime, the Beautiful, Art, God) and willing to suffer to reach that truth. Sometimes this theme was conveyed in aviary imagery. Symbolist contemporaries cast her as the prescient mythic Gamaiun, popular at the time in poetry and painting, others built on the Chekhov model and likened the actress to a wandering seagull, whereas Soviet biographers and critics subsequently emphasized her association with Maksim Gorkii and revolutionary activitists and cast the actress as the stormy petrel, leading the way to battle. Yet several questions remain unanswered. Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting style, derived “not from a theater school, but from life itself,” as Boborykin wrote, and rejection of Vsevolod’s Meierkhol’d’s forward-looking staging techniques in favor o f late 19*- century Realist dramaturgy and acting style seem to contradict the actress’s resurrection in the copious posthumously-written literature as a theater revolutionary. How, then, do we define Kommissarzhevskaia’s accomplishments, her philosophy, her personality? How was she simultaneously a product o f her own generation and that o f her father’s. * f l a T b B a w x e M y m w o e A x h 3 h h ? H o 9 3TH M h c n o M o r y B a in . B o - n e p B b ix , c q e j i a x b 3 T o x a K m h c n p e a c x a B J iH e x a i x p y g H o , n o q x H H e B o s M o x H o : * rro 6 b i g a x b x e iw y . n a a o p a c c K a x a x b S a w b c k ) x n a H b H g a x b B b iS p a x b H3 H e e x o , «ixo G y g e x ro B o p H X b B a in e m y B o o G p a ^ K eH H io w X B o p n e c x B y . a K aK e e p a c c K a a c e m b ? Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 6 as well as the generation o f the next? Whence come the models for her socio-political life? To which aesthetic camp did she really belong? The Formative Years: Provincial Theater Like her contemporaries Maria Ermolova, Olga Knipper, and Maria Savina, Kommissarzhevskaia was bom into a family with ties to the performing arts. Yet unlike Ermolova, the product o f the Moscow Imperial theater system, or Savina, whose parents performed in provincial acting companies, Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhev skaia’s artistic parentage was related to the musical elite of St. Petersburg. Her father, Fedor Petrovich Kommissarzhevskii, was a popular tenor at the St. Petersburg Mariin- skii Theater, renowned for his Italian training and impetuous personality. Certainly one example of Fedor Petrovich’s capriciousness was his scandalous elopement with Vera’s mother, Maria Nikolaevna Shul’gina (the marriage of his daughter to a member of the theater establishment forced General Shul’gin to take an early retirement from court- related duties). Bom in 1864, Vera’s childhood home environment in St. Petersburg seems to have been an incongruous mix of unconventionality and concem for aristo cratic respectability. According to Kommissarzhevskaia’s friend and colleague Evtikhii Karpov, the home was well provided, characterized by an “artistic touch; a certain, so to speak, creative disorderliness, and the lack of bourgeois propriety” (Karpov 1911:1). Vera received the type o f education available to upper-middle-class young women at the time: private home schooling by a series of governesses, relieved by sporadic periods of instruction at private lyceés. During the late nineteenth-century home theatricals were a popular form o f domestic entertainment, and Vera and her two Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 7 younger sisters Olga and Nadia seem to have preferred their home play theater to academic pursuits. Although dissuaded by their father from a theatrical career, the girls mimicked Fedor Petrovich’s professional world by writing and acting in their own renditions of popular melodramas. Vera, as the oldest, took charge of the direction and writing and apparently often cast herself as the male lead. The benefit o f costumes from the Mariinskii Theater and the aid of professional make-up artists suggest the serious ness of the girls’ endeavors and the extent to which this activity replicated the atmo sphere o f the adult theater world o f Fedor Petrovich. In addition, their audiences at the Kommissarzhevskys’ “Tuesdays” included family fnends like composer Modest Mussorgsky and writer Ivan Gorbunov who could provide rigorous critique (see Karpov 1911:6-7). Vera and her sisters were passively indoctrinated into the theater by observing the mechanics o f theatrical production from backstage at the Mariinskii Theater and their father’s training at home. For Vera and her sisters, life was not restricted to national boundaries: they had the benefit o f exposure to European customs from travels abroad with their parents. Thus, although Vera Fedorovna was not encouraged to embark on an acting career, her childhood was nonetheless infused with the activities of a life in the performing arts and the sensibilities of the artistic elite. Kommissarzhevskaia’s aesthetic philosophy was to a great extent honed by her father’s world view: her father had “entrusted to her his soul, and his good and bad side” (Karpov 1911: 13). The actress’s identification with the civic-mindedness o f the late nineteenth-century aesthetic elite is crucial to understanding how her mature ideas on nature and art conflicted with the younger generation o f actors hired to work in her Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 8 theaters; this attitude also helps to explain the diflBculty the actress later had in finding a dram atur^ and acting style to reflect this ideology. Her relationship with her father was very close; he was, her “teacher, fiiend, and source o f spiritual strength and inspiration.”* Whereas Maria Nikolaevna took a passive role in her daughters’ upbring ing, Fedor Petrovich fostered a love of literature and the conviction that elevated service to Art as noble endeavor. In 1894, Vera’s acting impressed him by its trueness “to the principles of art that he himself served throughout his life.”^ Vera Feodorovna saw herself as the natural heir to her father’s artistic platform, a tradition steeped in Romantic idealism and Populist social action. Engel (1983:13) suggests that the mother-daughter relationship in nineteenth- century Russian intelligentsia families functioned to maintain the status quo by keeping the daughter “on the conventional path.” As unconventional as her elopement with Vera’s father might have been, Maria Nikolaevna’s response to his eventual abandon ment o f the family nonetheless fit the pattern established by Decembrist wives much earlier in the century: self-sacrifice for the sake o f family unity. Kommissarzhevskaia would herself follow this same pattern o f “household martyrdom” in her own marriage. Her parents’ divorce notwithstanding (Maria Nikolaevna granted a divorce in 1882), Kommissarzhevskaia continued to hold Fedor Petrovich in the highest regard, and eventually joined his opera program in Moscow (1890). On the one hand, Kommissarzhevskaia’s approval o f her father, even after his abandonment o f her mother and sisters for a new family relationship, could be explained as an expression o f agency, but she resolved to follow an acting career only after she had attended Fedor Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 9 Petrovich’s academic circle. Yet the fact remains that while her mother may have encouraged Vera to take on the role o f family breadwinner and find a career, it was Fedor Petrovich who was directly instrumental in helping his daughter launch a career in theater. In her biographies, Kommissarzhevskaia’s primary motivation for a later career is defined as economic need and not as a solution for spiritual or aesthetic distress. This position bolstered the marketing o f Kommissarzhevskaia as a phenomenally successful newcomer to the stage and hastened her appeal as “Every Woman;” her personal history was beginning to resemble the formulaic pattern of a young woman’s life during a period in which women were increasingly joining the work force in search o f identity aiivi meaning. In 1881, when the loss o f Fedor Petrovich’s financial support forced Maria Nikolaevna to sell her estate near Vilnius, and she resettled with her daughters in St. Petersburg. According to Vera’s sister, Nadia'", all they could afford at the time were cramped, meager apartments “straight out of Dostoevsky’s “Poor Folk” (Gaideburov 1977). Yet whereas the heroine o f Dostoevsky’s story is unable to rise above degrada tion, Vera’s psychological resilience was not threatened by her family’s social decline and the prospect of having to earn a living. Nadia claims to have been the first to prompt Vera to consider auditioning for the Alexandrine Theater as a way to bring the family out of financial difficulty. In fact, by following in her father’s footsteps, Kommissarzhevskaia would have been pursuing a logical career choice for a woman at the time, given her lack o f sufficient educational training to enter other fields open to Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 0 women such as teaching o r journalism. For women entering a stage career at the end o f the last century, turning to the theater for monetary rather aesthetic reasons was likewise the rule, rather than the exception (Leikina-Svirskaia 1981). Yet despite her sister’s urging, and unlike Savina and Ermolova, in adolescence Kommissarzhevskaia w ^ less concerned with theater and more concerned with maintaining social status. There is also no evidence that the actress seriously considered a career in order to better her family’s economic situation until well into her twenties. Indeed, at the time, rather than join the ranks o f working women, Kommissarzhevskaia chose perhaps the most socially respectable vehicle for women to achieve social mobility and financial gain—marriage. In April 1882, Fedor Petrovich and Mariia Nikolaevna legally divorced. Fedor Petrovich was then able to marry his singing pupil, Mariia Kur’ iatovich-Kurtsevich, in time for the birth of their son, Fedor, the following month. Yet in Kommissarzhev skaia’s life history, the cliché ogre figure was not her father, but Vladimir Murav’ev, whom she married the following year. Count Murav’ev was an impecunious artist with a title and a willful disposition. Biographical accounts are generally perspicacious on this rather sordid episode, replete with adultery, debauchery, and physical abuse. Her brief and scandalous two-year marriage to Murav’ev ended in divorce in 1887; as her mother had done five years before, Kommissarzhevskaia accepted blame for the dissolution o f marriage so that the Count could take care of his new relationship with Kommissarzhevskaia’s sister, Nadia. (Nadia later fled to St. Petersburg to join her older sister when Murav’ev threatened her and their child’s life). Kommissarzhevskaia’s Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 1 response to insult and divorce was typical for a young woman o f her class. Her mother solicited funds from wealthy fnends, and accompanied her daughter on a cure at the fashionable spa resort Lipetsk (the object o f satire in Aleksandr Shakhovskoi’s 1815 comedy, A Lesson for Coquettes! in order to regain health and emotional well-being. However, the socio-cultural implications o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s responses to financial and emotional loss were generally avoided by her biographers, who instead emphasized the actress’s real life experiences of deceit and betrayal to prompt identifi cation of the actress with stage roles that likewise depicted naive young women who gain insight into the “mysteries o f existence” and emotional strength through suffering and self-denial. At the end o f the 1880s Fedor Petrovich was back in Moscow, and for two years he and director-acting instructor Aleksandr Fillipovich Fedotov organized an arts program, the Opera-Drama School, as part of the Society for Art and Literature {Qbshchestvo iskiisstva i literatury). Their co-director was Fedor Petrovich’s wealthy voice student, Konstantin Alekseev, who as Konstantin Stanislavsky subsequently would gain prominence for his founding o f an acting tradition. As diversion after her divorce, and at her mother’s urging, Kommissarzhevskaia had taken some acting lessons with family friend Vladimir Davydov. The Alexandrine Theater star did not predict a brilliant future for his pupil, whose strengths lay in her musical aplomb rather than in her dramatic talents. Later, in 1890, Vera and her sister Olga joined their father in Moscow. According to Stanislavsky, Kommissarzhevskaia’s “first performance” was at the “Europe in Costume and Song” costume ball sponsored by the Society in early Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 2 February o f that year, during which the two sisters performed gypsy romances (Stanislavsky 1:460). One o f the songs, 'Cry, cry" {Plach \ plach became Vera Kommissarzhevskaia’s trademark in her depiction o f Larisa in Ostrovskii’s The Doweryless Bride (which she premiered in 1895). In Mv Life in Art. Stanislavsky writes sympathetically about his relationship with Fedor Petrovich: “I don’t know what brought me more use, the lessons or conversa-. tions after them” (Stanislavsky 1952:132). Stanislavsky may well have been looking to Fedor Petrovich’s methodology and analysis as a model for his own educational program, as he had even “entertained the thought of becoming his [Fedor Petrovich] assistant” (Stanislavsky 1952:134). It is possible that Stanislavsky’s ideas on voice and tempo, which he developed in An Actor Prepares. Building a Character, and Creating A Role (e.g., theories on mastering voice, and inner and outer tempo-rhythm) may well have had their origins in the voice and performance lessons he and Vera Kommissarzhevskaia took under the direction o f Fedor Petrovich. Kommissarzhevskaia’s “debut” at a masked ball was, seemingly, the actress’s first appearance as a performer before a large audience. Her amateur acting debut came about at the end of that year in Petr Gnedich’s “elegant” contemporary one-act comedy. The Burning Letters (poriashchie p is ’ ma) (13 December 1890), a production that was coincidentally also Stanislavsky’s first public directorial staging. Kommissarzhevskaia substituted for an ailing actress, and the novice performed the role o f Zina to Stanislav sky’s Krasnokutskii. Either because o f Stanislavsky’s direction or Kommissarzhev skaia’s developing recognition o f herself as a performer, critics were agreed: “Gnedich’s Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 3 comedy was performed so well by V.F. Komissarzhevskaia, K.S. Stanislavsky, and S.M. Mikhailov, that you couldn’t wish for anything better, and it would even have done justice to a professional actor from any theater^’ ( Moskovskii listok (17 Dec 1890) in Chronicle 27). Over the next two years Vera performed comedy and opera in the student productions organized at the Society. Stanislavsky seems to have been im pressed with Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting and chose her to play Betsy in his February 1891 production of Tolstoy’s The Fruits o f Enlightenment. Nemirovich-Danchenko was also impressed with Kommissarzhevskaia’s performance: “Never has anyone seen such exemplary acting done by amateurs” (Novosti c/nia ( 10 February 1891) in Chroni cle 29). Involvement with the Society provided Kommissarzhevskaia with her only professional training and exposure to Stanislavsky’s formative ideas on staging. It is likely that formative work with Stanislavsky left its mark on the actress’s own acting style, and this would in part explain Stanislavsky’s interest in Kommissarzhevskaia as a possible member of his Moscow Art Theater in the early years o f the twentieth century. After the closure o f the Opera-Drama School, Kommissarzhevskaia toured with the company in the summer o f 1891 and eventually returned to live with her mother on their uncle’s estate near Vilnius. Kommissarzhevskaia’s early popularity with audiences and with the critics motivated her further towards a stage career, and in early 1893 she requested a family fiiend, Ivan Kiselevskii, to help her find a position. Kiselevskii organized an audition with Nikolai Sinel’nikov’s Novocherkassk company, and the actress was quickly accepted as ingénue comique. Although beginning a stage career at the advanced age of 29, due to Kommissarzhevskaia’s youthful charm she was cast in Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 4 light comedies^ and her musical gifts were utilized in vaudeville routines popular with provincial audiences. In these early years especially her lack o f acting training was apparent: Sinel’nikov (who performed with Kommissarzhevskaia) later recalled there would be “unexpected fluctuations in role, places which the day before she had acted completely differently. Something suddenly occurred to her, and she interpreted the scene in a new way; a new character appeared” (Sinel’nikov 1935:219 in Chronicle 34). On the other hand, her vocal flexibility and control distinguished Kommissarzhev skaia: “unlike the Russian actors o f that day.” wrote Mandel’shtam, “Kommissarzhev skaia possessed an inner sense o f music;” her acting was “three quarters verbal” (Mandel’shtam 1965:124). Olga Knipper-Chekhov (1972:42) once wrote that her decision to enter a professional career in theater “changed her from young lady into a free individual, capable o f earning her own living.”* Kommissarzhevskaia similarly had been released from certain social restrictions and transformed into a career woman, and audiences responded well to her adolescent heroines: V.F. Komissarzhevskaia...has everything it takes to become a great performer a pleasing appearance, a beautiful, melodic voice: expressive eyes and. most of all. the spark of youth, that holy flame by wluch a female performer enchants her audience.... fComissarzhevskaia's Shura [in TX.Kupemik's Summer Picture {Letniaia kartinka)- klm\ is charm itself, young life itself. fPonskaia rech' (31 October 1893) in Chronicle 35) In the citation is evidence o f Barthes’ “ambiguous significance,” by which the “reader [reviewer] lives the myth as a story at once true and unreal” (Barthes 1972: 129). At Ha ôapbimHH, n npeapaTHJiacb b CBoôonHoro, aapaôaTbiBaïoinero na cboio xoiaHb uenoBeKa. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 5 this time Kommissarzhevskaia was already entering her thirties, but the illusion o f youth that the actress maintained in her stage roles seemed genuine enough for the media, students and kursistki\ and the younger generation o f Symbolist poets, to identify her as an emblem o f change and the future. As head o f her ‘theater household,’ Kommissarzhevskaia capitalized on this attribute to bolster claim as leader o f the New Art; Blok in fact eulogized her as “younger, much younger than many o f us.” Thus, her youthful verve in roles from the 19*-century repertory and, as her chronology pro gressed, portrayal o f new models for female behavior in the dramaturgy o f Ibsen and Chekhov, the innovations in theater design and production that she would encourage in her own Dramatic Theater, and the increased democratization o f the theater audience were all factors that worked together to shape Kommissarzhevskaia’s public personae. While the provincial circuit could serve as a stepping-stone for novices to a more lucrative career in the State theaters, venues closer to the capital cities offered even greater potential for advancement. From comparatively overnight success in the provinces, Kommissarzhevskaia advanced to a summer contract with a theater in the fashionable resort of Ozerki, north of St. Petersburg. ' ^ During the summer o f 1894, Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting history progressed from minor parts to roles, from “ro /’ A r to ro ll" as she wrote in a letter to Turkin,*" in Russian classics like Griboedov’s Woe from Wit (Liza) and Turgenev’s one-act Evening in Sorrento (Mariia). According to lurii lur’ev (1945: 297-372), audiences who came to society resorts like Ozerki and Oranienbaum to see well-known starring performers were thus also exposed to the talents o f obscure but promising young actors. Thus, these theaters in particular had the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 66 potential to launch successful careers, as was the case with Kommissarzhevskaia. On the basis o f her performances she was offered a closed audition at the St. Petersburg Imperial Alexandrine Theater. However, she opted to perform an additional year in the provinces with Konstantin Nezlobin’s Vilnius-based company, perhaps to remain close to her mother. More likely, she sought to gain the experience that she would need to counter the sophistication and the intrigue of St. Petersburg backstage life and take on increasingly demanding ‘ro//.’ Now cast as young heroine ( ingénue dramatique'), Kommissarzhevskaia’s year with Nezlobin’s company inaugurated her into her signature roles: “Rosie” in Suder- mann’s Battle o f the Butterflies (premiere 19 January 1895), “Larisa” in Ostrovskii’s The Doweryless Bride (22 January 1895), and “Varia” in Ostrovskii/Solov’ev’s A Child of Nature (premiere 5 October 1895). Evidence o f her growing popularity was the fact that the 1895-96 season, with Kommissarzhevskaia’s participation, was the theater’s most profitable season in its six years of existence. Although Kommissarzhevskaia would debut at the St. Petersburg Alexandrine Theater the following year, she contin ued to tour with Nezlobin’s theater during the following summer (1897) and winter (1898-1899). The period o f provincial work gave the actress opportunity to create her major roles, many o f which she continued to perform until her death fifteen years later. Judging from the following droll description (written while performing summer stock in Orienbaum), after having performed on the provincial stage less than two years Kommissarzhevskaia already well understood the competitive structure o f the provincial Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 7 theater system, the superficial repertory available to her, the nature o f contemporary theater audiences, and her personal discontent with the theater fare she was offering: .. J feel that I’m sunouiKled by enemies, and I can’t muster the strength to show them that I have a weapon against them. I have no desire to overcome them, to melt the ice, to show them that I still can give them something. What that is, I don’t know, but I do know that I can’t get out of this mood, and that all this is unbearably difficult and that I won’t be able to perform a single role like I can. It seems to me that a state like this is for an actor what paralysis is for apianisL I’ve had as much success as you can have with a Petersburg audience that wakes up only during scenes when the actors howl unnaturally or flail about on the floor in convulsions. After the end of Once a Woman Decides . * I had three curtain calls, which is a considered a lot since the public was hurrying to catch a train home. ** (“ T M .V . Turldnu”(20 May 1894) #5 Letters 38) By the tour’s end audience approbation turned in Kommissarzhevskaia’s favor; in mid- August she declared, “They love me Nonetheless, the letter excerpt, above, indicates the actress’s growing antagonism towards much o f popular dramaturgy, dissatisfaction with her acting, and theater attitudes against which she would later rebel in the Alexandrine Theater. * Esli zhenshchina reshila...: a one-act vaudeville by I.M. Buiatsel' * * 9 i nyBcmyio ce6ji oKpyxceHHon nparaMu w He Mory BbianaTb vn gyum xcejiamui noKaaarb hm, nro y M eH H npoTHB H H X ccTb opyxHe. H er xenannsi noGegHTb hx. paaorperb hx xojioa, noKasaxb hm, H TO H Bce-TaKH Mopy gaTb H M HTo-HHSyflb. 5 1 He aaHio. « ito a rc raKoe, 3Haio jumib, «rro ne Mory ocBoGogHTbCH o r TaKoro cocrouHH*. hto ace arc HeBbiHocHMo TsrsKejiD h hto a He ogHoif pojm He cbitpaio Tax, Kax a Mory cbirparb. Ilo-MoeMy, raxoe cocroaHHe ana axrepa to * e, qro napajum gJia pyx miaHHCTa. Ycnex a HMena, HacxoJibxo ero m oxcho UMerb y nerepGyprcxoA nyGjiHXH. xoropaa, cHqa b rearpe, npocbmaerca rojibxo rom a. xorqa axrepbi Begyr raxne cueHbi, rqe naqo Bomrrb He cbohm rojiocoM H JiH xaraTbca no nojiy b xoHByjibcnax. riocne oxonaaHHa )KeHmHHa peunuiHa Mena BbiabiBann rp n paaa, *rro ctHraerca mhoto, tom Gonee <rro nyGJiHxa cneiuHJia ua noeag. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 68 The St. Petersburg years: The Imperial Alexandrine Theater Kommissarzhevskaia’s spring 1896 debut at the St. Petersburg Imperial Alexan drine Theater initiated her professionalization. During her six year tenure at the Alexandrine, Kommissarzhevskaia’s aesthetic and creative impulses began to clarify themselves. Rather than complying with the demands o f the conservative Alexandrine tradition, Kommissarzhevskaia found herself at odds with accepted institutions such as the privileged star system, acting that valued technique over personal expression, and dependency on the dramatic text to define the limits o f artistic expression. Influential critics like Aleksandr Kugel’ applauded her conformation to these traditions and deni grated her efforts otherwise, and a lesser number o f critics supported her fresh interpre tation o f art and literature. Although artistic difference and the inability to “find herself’ as an actress at the Alexandrine eventually resulted in Kommissarzhevskaia’s resigna tion from the Imperial stage, the experience brought her an awareness o f the limitations of contemporary dramaturgy. It also consolidated her public images as youthful symbol and added a new one: the aesthetic martyr. As Pavel Gaideburov wrote fAlkonost 22- 41), the “passion o f St. Vera” took place during her years at the Alexandrine Theater. At the Alexandrine, the actress most often performed roles that she had created during her earlier provincial contracts.'* The Alexandrine’s repertory was relatively limited to-Russian classics, popular European plays, and contemporary Russian drama tists in the style o f Ostrovskii (e.g., Petr Boborykin, Ignatii Potapenko, Nikolai Pote- khin, Aleksandr Sumbatov, et al ); that is, plays about everyday life that corresponded to the realist orientation o f the State theaters. Whereas Kommissarzhevskaia seemed to Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 9 find consistent accolades when she performed in the provinces, in the city the new actress had to stand critical comparison with Maria Savina, many o f whose roles the younger actress shared. This comparison sometimes worked to Kommissarzhevskaia’s favor. Her director, Evtikhii Karpov, noted that the success o f Kommissarzhevskaia- Larisa (The Doweryless Bridel was not due to the actress’s resemblance to a robust country girl, but to her “inner experiencing” (vnutrennee perezhfvanie) and character portrayal, which “not only faithfully transmitted all the smallest nuances o f Larisa’s emotions, but made them significantly more profound” (Karpov 1911:53). Kommissarzhevskaia’s musical gifts also set her apart from her rival, and certainly a component of the popular success of her role as Larisa was her vocal renditions of gypsy romances to her own guitar accompaniment. In addition, her type casting in roles depicting adolescent girls awakening to life’s travails gained her prestige among a burgeoning segment o f the theater audience and earned her distinction from Mariia Savina. As described in Chapter 1 , the constituency of the theater audience was begin ning to diversify during the early years of the century, and Kommissarzhevskaia’s appeal for younger female audiences was also used to the advantage of the theater administration. Gaideburov (Alkonost 24) suggested that a performance legacy was one advantage Kommissarzhevskaia had in her new theater venue; her presence attracted the “grey-haired admirers of Fedor Petrovich, who came to see the heir to the talent o f the well-known singer.” But a contrasting portion of her audience, the young intelligentsia and students who began to fill the upper tiers of the theater when Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 0 Kommissarzhevskaia performed, presented a challenge to theater routine and marked a new period in theater appreciation. Kommissarzhevskaia’s lack o f professional training allowed her to dispense with formulaic stage convention and project what was per ceived as raw, natural emotion that in turn engendered her identity as an actress from the ‘school o f life.’ Conversely, taken as a unit, her stage roles and performance style worked together to build the perception of Kommissarzhevskaia as a representative o f the young generation and even o f the nascent women’s movement, as one critic wrote: It seems to me that Mme Kotnmissarzlievskaia. the cliild of her times, is the spokesperson for contemporary women and girls, and not only those that suffer and protest through siru force of nature and passion, but also emancipated women, those that dare to have their own opinion and act with tliat awkward independence that characterizes many contemporary women. Tlie actress knows well tliis contemporar} woman in even her undevelmed state, her vacillations and transitions from extreme hysteria to utter collapse. ^ At least for conservative newspaper owner, theater critic and entrepreneurs like Suvorin, Kommissarzhevskaia was an original’ whose originality lay not in a measured, controlled style o f acting, but in her ‘impetuousness.’ This characteristic seemed to replicate the actions and reactions o f natural life more closely, and brought an insightful, spontaneous expression of truthfulness to Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting that her professionally-trained contemporaries were not able to achieve. Yet Kommissarzhevskaia’s success was not achieved by fulfillment o f the expectations o f the typical theater-goer (the grey-haired admirers’) but by appealing to the ‘democratic’ tastes o f the new theater audience. Conservatives such as Kugel’ suggested that the accessibility {dostupnost ’ ) of her acting was another reason for the actress’s growing success. However, in the discourse o f conservatism, the critic’s Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 1 emphasis o f Kommissarzhevskaia's democratic appeal as a 'performer-populist" (he uses the term artist-narodnik, barkening to the Russian 19*-century social activist movement) is derogatory rather than approving: Kommissarzhevskaia’s utilitarian’ art contradicted Kugel’s aesthetic platform as well as the Alexandrine theater tradition of high technique and textual accuracy: In Mme Komnussarzhevskaîa there is sometliing ratlier democratic, semi-plebeian: a kind of remote but nevertheless completely recognizable resemblance to the nurses, school girls, and young women enrolled in liigher education courses [A»rsiSrA7|. and to ail Qpes of the student populatioiL...This is a performer of the utilitarian art ...Mme Kommissarzhevskaia undoubtedly lias a lot to say to souls who consider elegant manners a fine figure, and beautiful dress as qualities that are hostile to "progress."'^ The youthfUlness of her audience prompted Aleksandr Kugel' to comment that Kommissarzhevskaia had turned the stage into a “kindergarten;” likewise, the actress’s democratic appeal went counter to Kugel '’s ideas on Art, which for him meant the perfection (sovershenstvo) and not the rejection of technique. For supporters like Gaideburov and her public, Kommissarzhevskaia’s challenge to routine and theater convention was a sign of healthy protest and change. For Kugel’, it threatened the integrity of the institution of theater. It would be premature to suggest that Kommissarzhevskaia came to the Alexan drine with a developed aesthetic platform and plan of upheaval and protest. On the contrary, it seems likely. Judging from letters, that she wanted to earn the same success as Savina but she was not willing to channel her aesthetic drive to conform to institu tional expectation. This is one reason why the premiere of Chekhov’s The Seagull on 21 October 1896, notwithstanding its financial failure, was an emotional success for Kommissarzhevskaia. In it the actress recognized a dramaturgy that solidified her ideas Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 2 on art and a model for female behavior that echoed her own convictions. The play upset the theater’s predictable repertory of entertaining, non-controversial comedy and melodrama. Chekhov had not yet achieved prominence as spokesperson for the New Art (or the Moscow Art Theater for that matter), yet this play immediately became the calling card for a new kind of dramaturgy, and Kommissarzhevskaia, who agreed to play the role o f Nina after it was declined by Savina, seems to have been one of the few members of the cast who understood the essence o f the play. Chekhov was enthusiastic about her performance: “My “Seagull” begins October 17,” he wrote to his brother, “Kommissarzhevskaia performs amazingly {izim itel’ nd) “ (#1764 Chekhov PSSP: VI, 196). I discuss this performance and the play’s implications for Kommissarzhevskaia in more detail in Chapter V. Here I would like to mention the technical reasons for its failure, as example o f the opposition Kommissarzhevskaia faced in her struggle to find her own artistic voice on the Imperial stage. For decades theater historians have attempted to explain the premiere’s embarrassing failure. Some agreed with Alexandrine actor lurii lur’ev (1945) who attributed the debacle to the bourgeois boorishness of the St. Petersburg audience and bureaucratic life in general.^* According to lur’ev, the Gostinodvortsy audience (merchants who owned trading concerns in the nearby Gostinyi Dvor shopping arcade, thus suggesting bourgeois tastes) had, in fact, expected to be entertained by a benefit performance given for the popular comedienne Elizaveta Levkeeva. Others found fault in the play itself and, unable to grasp the piece’s subtlety, some critics judged the play to be “contentless” ^Petersburg Folio): “not a seagull, but Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 3 a wild turkey” (Stock Market Gazette) (in Gitovich 1958:429-434). Yet it is also doubtful that, had there been more than the nine days allotted in which to mount the performance, given their training, the Alexandrine actors might have truly been able to create on stage the “lyrical mood and half tones” o f the dramatic writing. Few theater people were as circumspect in their observations as playwright/director Petr Gnedich, who accounted for the play's & st night failure as symptomatic o f the State acting system: The Seagull was a failure in St. Petersburg because the actors considered it just like any play that happened to fall into the repertory . They looked to see how long tlieir role was. they noticed that there was little action and lots of talk, they glued on moustaches, beards and sideburns, wore whatever had Just been brought in from the tailor’s, they memorized their role, and went on stage. (Al’tshuller 1977:146-147) Kommissarzhevskaia succeeded where seasoned actors were unable to precisely because she was not a product of the State acting system. Moreover, as Alt’shuller (1977) suggests, her own artistic consciousness seemed to find sympathy with Chekhov’s neo-Symbolist play and the trials experienced by the idealistic heroine. Kommissarzhevskaia’s lone success in The Seagull marked her aesthetic and ideological distinction from her Alexandrine colleagues. Although this performance occurred during the first season o f her contract with the Alexandrine, it nonetheless occupied an important place in the actress’s later professional development. On the one hand, the actress’s sympathy with Chekhov’s play as representative o f a new type of dramaturgy caused her to later attempt to involve the playwright with her own theater, and her ideological affinity with the piece caused critics to look to Kommissarzhev skaia’s Dramatic Theater as a counterpart to Stanislavsky’s Moscow Art Theater, with Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 4 which the writer was subsequently affiliated. Moreover, the actress’s perceived effort less (i.e., natural’) assimilation o f the role after only six rehearsals provided theater historians with a way in which to define Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting as a style in harmony with the lyrical tenor o f the play, and the “naturalness” o f her performance gave way to the actress’s identity with the “wandering seagull’ embodied by the fictional Nina Zarechnaia. Throughout the 1890s, Kommissarzhevskaia’s rising popularity and developing aesthetic system served to further the gap between the actress and the State tradition exemplified by the Alexandrine Theater productions. Despite attempts by some o f the theater’s stage directors at the turn o f the century to renovate repertory and acting style, as late as 1905 critics still reproached the capital city’s State theater system as being “locked with its own special Petersburg theatre traditions,” replete with “spiritless theatrical conventionality” and “deadly boredom” (Gurevich in Petrovskaia 1990:63). Petrovskaia ( 1990) investigated tum-of-the-century Russian theater reception, and her conclusion expands lur’ev’s assessment o f the theater audience, the “middle intelligen tsia,” i.e., civil servants, journalists, the demi-monde, and Gostinnodvortsy, were attracted to the Alexandrine Theater (its close proximity to their business interests notwithstanding) because its productions were understandable, presentable, and appropriate for family entertainment. The acting environment backstage at the Alexandine likewise had its own set of expectations. Kommissarzhevskaia was not new to backstage divisiveness, having heard stories from Fedor Petrovich and herself encountered theater politics at Ozerki. As the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 5 fictional heroine Negina in Ostrovskii’s play Career Woman learned, without influential sponsors within and without the theater, novice actresses had difficulty acquiring good roles.*® Komissarzhevskaya’s popularity increased her prestige as a theater draw, but she could not counter opposition fi'om Mariia Savina and Savina supporters. The popular early twentieth-century writer Sophia Smimova-Sazonova captured this growing division in her diary entries: 30 January 1901 Kommissarzhevskaia’s benefit performance took place with great commotion and brilliance. The public is crazy about her. When she first appeared on stage a cry like a w olf s howl went up from tlie balcony. She was showered witli flowers and gifis . and people in tlie top tiers waved handkerciiiefs. Savina recently said with some contempt tliat the audience at Her benefits doesn't act like this: ~MY people don’t wave their linen in public." 3 November 1901 ...at Kommissarzhevskaia's [there's a scandal|: no roles, and the new [Imperial Theaters] director [V.A. Teliakovskiij isn't favorably disposed...Sa\ina performs all the roles...Two months without a role, and she [Kommissarzhevskaia) is beside herself. She’s used to success. Slie's tlie public's favorite, but has notliing to perform. (In Letters 311) If, for Savina, Kommissarzhevskaia was a “puppet theater actress ’ and “inspired m odistkd\ Kommissarzhevskaia considered Savina “a great actress in insignificant matters.”^ ® Kommissarzhevskaia’s growing dissatisfaction with the Alexandrine aesthetic attitudes and lack o f new roles to perform became evident by her sixth season. The directorate’s decision to reject her request to stage A Daughter of the People {Doch ’ naroda), N.P Annenkova-Bemar’ s contemporary piece about the 15'*'-century religious fanatic and martyr, Joan o f Arc, spurred the actress to deliberate her future with the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 6 theater. In the following excerpt from a letter to close friend and Alexandrine col league, Nikolai BChodotov, (the ' Azra" o f this letter), disjointed staccato phrases emphasize the actress’ emotional agitation at the loss o f performing Daughter of the People: Here’s what's most important for me. my Azra. I stand at the brink of my soul’s great events...! am timid: the moment has come when I must decide my fate. After all. my credo is: ‘ ‘Art must reflect the eternal, and only one tiring is eternal: the soul.” This means that only one thing is important: tire life of the soul in all its manifesta tions. You remember. I told you once: "Don’t create types.” 1 didn't explain what 1 wanted to say. but tliat was it. Remember how excited 1 was when I told you about Joan of Arc?...Now is the time for everjtliing to be resolved. Even if it were one hundred times weaker than it is. it would be my touchstone, whether or not I say it. whether or not it is my own word or someone else s. 1 would be openly avowing my faith, even if not so directly. If I can’t be a creator in this, it means that I’m not an artist: it means that I cannot give myself up to where speaks only the eternal. Oh. how much 1 want to say. and how impossible it is to write about tliis.* (“Iz pis’ma N.N. Khodotovu” (April 1902) #141 Letters 115-116) Kommissarzhevskaia, to whom Armenkova-Bemar’s play was dedicated, saw the role as a vehicle by which she publicly affirm her own word’ in Art, to give them some thing,’ as she wrote in an earlier-quoted letter. Economic reasons again decided the directorate’s actions, and the theater chose to mount Schiller’s version o f Romantic visionary. Die Jungfrau von Orleans, a role Kommissarzhevskaia considered antiquated and without content for contemporary audiences. The anguish of a Joan o f Arc in *B ot b ucm r/taBHoeoflx Meim, won Aipa. 5 1 croio na nopore aejiHKHX coSbiTioi qyinn MoeH...5I ManoflyuiHa, nacraji MOMenr. xorqa pemHTbca yuacrb moh. JJa, 3To segb h ecrb moh sepa: "HcKyccTBo gomKHo orpaxcaTb BeuHoe. a Be<iH o tojibko ogHo— 3To qyiuaa." 3Ha«nrr. aa^KHo xojibxo oqao— XH3Hb ayinH ao acex ee npoaajiemuix. floMHirre, « roaopiuia Baiw paa: Coeccm hc naqo HH K aK H X T H H O B cosflaaaTb”— « He noacHHJia. *ito h xoxejia cKaaarb ho 3to h 5buio t o . floMKHre M O K ) nnxopajuqr, c xaxoH a roapKna Baw o ^ a n n e g ’ApK...Tyr aom aio peunrrboi ace. H ecjiH 5bi 3Ta aeiub 6buia cna6eft ao cro pas, uew ona ecrb, ona Gyqer npoGHbiw KawHew flJiH weHX, norowy qro 3TO H cxaxcy hjih He cxaxy, caoe cjioao— ne caoe. a Hcnoaeayio caoio aepy OTxpbiro, aaxce h He Tax. Ecnn ft He Mory 6biTb xaopuoM a oroif aemn,— sna'tHT, a ne xyaoacHHK, sHanHT, a ne yMeio OTgaTbca T O M y, rqe roaopHT t o j i b k o aeuHoe. Ax, xax M He mhopo xoueTca cxasarb h neaosMoxcHo HHCaTb 06 3TO M . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 7 some ways seemed an appropriate metaphor for Kommissarzhevskaia’s test o f faith at the Alexandrine. Indeed, like the Christian martyr, once the actress had lived through her ‘Golgotha’ and resigned from the state theater system, her professional life took on new form and gained in social significance. By the time she formally resigned in August, 1902, Kommissarzhevskaia had gained professional acting experience, a clearer knowledge o f herself as an actress, and lessons in commodification. The Dramatic Theaters In 1908, Kommissarzhevskaia summarized her career as follows: I divide my fiiteen years of theater activity in three sections; I) work in the provinces. 2) the Imperial stage, and 3) in my own theater.*'* The final category referred to two consecutive St. Petersburg theater operations: the Dramatic Theater “in the Arcade” (1904-06) and the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater “on Officer Street” (1906-1909). By the time she left the Alexandrine Theater, Kommissarzhevskaia was a highly paid performer. In 1901 Levkeeva (for whose 1896 benefit performance Kommissarzhevskaia had starred in The Seagull! was earning 3,000 roubles a year. Kommissarzhevskaia had demanded (and been granted) 4,000 roubles for the first year of her Alexandrine service alone ( 1 May 1896-1 May 1897). In 1902, as she considered resigning, the theater Directorate offered almost four times as much and a year’s leave for her to remain with the company. But intent on opening her own theater, the actress had already signed with another company that offered her 20,000 * H pasqeJixK) cboio nxTHaanaTHJierHioio aenTejibHOCTb na rp n nacTH: 1) paGora a nposHHiniH, 2) Ha HMneparopcKoif cuene. 3) y ccG h b Tearpe. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 8 roubles for less than a year’s work (in Chronicle 191-1921 This money allowed her to rent space for her first theater^ hire staff and actors, and establish herself as Directrisse. In her resignation letter to Imperial Theaters director Vladimir Teliakovskii, Kommissarzhevskaia stated loss o f faith in artistic fulfillment at the Alexandrine and asserted the primacy o f her own aesthetic needs as her life’s work: I have only one reason [for resignation!— I want to work. I cannot stay where my energies are not utilized...! have lost all faith that things can change to my aesthetic benefit. I cannot serve that which I consider holy without this faith...! cannot act otherwise, because I consider tlie fulfillment of the demands of my artistic self to be the first and foremost duty of my life.*~ According to Karpov, Kommissarzhevskaia had inherited a “sacred discontent” (sviatoe bespokoistvo) from her father, and like Fedor Petrovich, the actress was not able to rest on her laurels but was driven to find new opportunities for creative expres sion. Karpov (1911:27) suggests that the actress “wasn’t satisfied with what life gave her, she wanted more and more. Her lively, receptive soul urged forward, to new experiences, to new embodiments o f ‘new possibilities. ” But questions remain: was Komissarzhevskaia’s “discontent” driven by a fundamental opposition to the conserva tive traditions o f the State theater and a need for selfless creative freedom (as her contemporary Karpov contended) or by an egocentric idealism and self-motivation that would not allow her to share the stage (a view held by theater historian Konstantin *npmmHa T cun>K O oana— a xoay pafioTan.. OcraaaTbca Taw, rae noqewy 6w to hh fibuio moh C H Jifci He yTHJiH3HpyioTC«, a He Haxoacy jjnsi ce6a B03M0i»n>tM... a yrparHJia fieinoBopoTHyio aepy b to, HTo MoaceT HacrynHTb nojioaceHHe Bemeif b acreTHHecKOM oTHomeHHH qjia wena acejiaTCJibHoe. CnyacHTb aeny, KOTopoe a CHHTaio csaTbiM, Gei 3toh Bepbi a ne wory...nocTvnHTb Hnane He Mory, Tax Kax HcnoanaTb TpeGoaaHHa csoeA apTUCTHHecxoH JimiHocTH a c<nrraio nepsbiM h raasHMM aojiroM CBoeA acM .3H H . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 9 Rudnitsldi)? Was Kommissarzhevskaia passively caught in the current o f the New Art, or did she intend to lead the way? Kommissarzhevskaia grouped the final phase in her fifteen-year professional life under the rubric ‘work in her own theater’ (ir sebia v teatre), and this phase signaled a change in her professional persona from actress to theater entrepreneur. From 1904 until her death six years later, the actress acquired relatively few new roles. However, she did succeed in promoting the careers of young actors, artists, and writers who, in turn, would be influential in the direction of Russian artistic culture well into the twentieth-century. The two consecutive Dramatic Theaters founded by Kommissarzhev skaia are usually treated in the critical literature as completely diverse entities. Soviet scholars tend to focus on the ideological platform o f the first Dramatic Theater “in the Arcade,” since its showcasing of contemporary naturalist and realist plays, and the involvement and support o f Maksim Gorkii, were concordant with the dictates and goals of Socialist Realism. On the other hand, Russian and Western scholars of the avant-garde have been intrigued with the aesthetic orientation of the second Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater “on Officer Street,” where innovative young directors such as Vsevold Meierkhol’d and Nikolai Evreinov tested their provocative theories o f performance and staging o f primarily Symbolist dramaturgy, and Kommissarzhev skaia’s half-brother Fedor would gain experience in set design that he would later apply in his own theaters. These two ventures were in fact ideologically united, as they did indeed reflect Kommissarzhevskaia’s dedication to Art as a means to manifest the ‘life of the soul,’ as she wrote to Khodotov, and her quest for a viable means to physically Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 0 embody abstraction and symbol on stage. Her willingness to adapt her talents and devote her financial resources to the stylistic demands o f a diverse dramaturgy— naturalism, symbolism, realism—was perhaps her greatest cultural contribution and, conversely, her own professional and personal tragedy. Not surprisingly, Kommissarzhevskaia’s path to new artistic expression first led her back to Stanislavsky and the model o f ensemble acting par excellence, the Moscow Art Theater (MAT). During the summer o f 1902 she negotiated a move to MAT in an attempt to “assuage her moral hunger,” as she wrote in a letter to Stanislavsky from late June, ^ but as much as all parties seemed interested in a merger, agreement was not forthcoming. One reason for the impasse was the actress’s concern that the directors’ imperious control over all aspects o f production would interfere with her own artistic independence; a theme that was taking prominence in the actress’s aesthetic philosophy. A similar offer from conservative newspaper paper publisher Aleksei Suvorin to Join his St. Petersburg company also met with the actress’s rejection:*^ her rationale that Suvorin’s theater had “too many bosses” (slishkom mnogo khoziaev) is well-applicable to the breakdown in her negotiations with MAT ; Stanislavsky is a wonderful director but at his theater is despotism. I value his accomplishment in the theater so highly that I almost agreed to work with him. But theiL liaving thought it over. I decided that neither of us would concede our artistic independence, and so notliing good would come of it.* (Interview, luzhnyi krai (September 1902) in Chronicle 195) * Bor H y CTaHHcnaBCKoro, aroro gHBHoro pesKHccepa h apxHcra, ecrb aecnoTHSM. Snaere, jt rax BbtcoKo craajiio ero noaBHr b gene rearpa, mto egBa jih hc corJiacHJiacb cnyncHTb y nero, ho noTOM, noqywaB, pemnna, hto M bi o6a He ycryiiHM apyr flpyry cBoeii aprocTHnecKOH C aM O C T O B T eJIbH O C T H , H HHHerO H 3 3TOrO He BblHReT xopoinero. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 81 By the fail o f 1902 the actress had decided on the formal and ideological orientation for her own theater: a theater in which she could ‘have her own word;’ a theater of the New Art, dedicated to the latest European and Russian dramaturgy and art literature, and a theater o f the Actor, in which the director would serve as consul tant and coordinator, not dictator. Rejecting MAT’s offer and establishing her own theater was considered by many to be capricious; the whim o f a “eccentric” {chudach- ka), as Chekhov wrote. Yet there was a method to her actions; ‘the Arcade’ was located in the best part o f the city, and by renting theater space here she ensured proximity to paying audiences and established her theater as a symbolic rebuke to the neighboring Alexandrine. The first Dramatic Theater was considered St. Petersburg’s answer to the Moscow Art Theater.^ Two years in the making, the Dramatic Theater opened in September, 1904 with the mounting of Uriel Acosta, Karl Gutzkow’s 1847 drama about intellectual freedom. Kommissarzhevskaia had hoped to initiate her theater’s first season with Chekhov’s Cherrv Orchard, thereby sharing with MAT the Chekhov totem for her own enterprise. (Chekhov, by then a MAT institution, politely refused to provide her with the play).’® She had also reconsidered Annenkova-Bemar’s A Daughter o f the People, but decided historical roles would not show her (or her theater) to best advan tage (see Chapter VI). Pavel Samoilov was cast as Uriel Acoste, a role he had already created at the Alexandrine Theater, and Kommissarzhevskaia counted on his popularity and expertise to ensure a successful beginning to her enterprise. She herself did not perform, although she had acted the role o f Judith while in Nezlobin’s Vilnius company Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 82 nine years prior; her conspicuous absence from the Dramatic Theater production indicated the actress’s intent to highlight ensemble acting rather than present her theater as a vehicle for self-promotion. The first Dramatic Theater borrowed from MAT its realist orientation, its themes, and its dramatists. Director Bravich consulted with Stanislavsky regarding the repertory, and in his private correspondence Stanislavsky expressed concern that the Dramatic Theater would limit the Moscow Art Theater’s effect when in St. Petersburg.^^ The genre o f contemporary daily life prevailed in the repertory, often with incendiary overtones, such as in works by Gorkii and his colleagues from the liberal Znanie (Knowledge) publishing association Evgenii Chirikov, Semen lushkevich, Sergei Naidenov, among others. The two theaters produced an almost identical set o f new Russian realist and naturalist plays and the latest European trends in drama (i.e., Ibsen, Sudermann, Hofmannsthal, et al ). However, there were however crucial differences in repertory between MAT and the Dramatic Theater that became more apparent in the second Dramatic Theater. The theater’s newly formed troupe was unable to achieve the cohesiveness of the MAT ensemble, and when ticket receipts flagged, the Dramatic Theater resorted to staging plays from Kommissarzhevskaia’s older repertory (mostly nineteenth-century “Cinderella” and coming-of-age plays). This last consideration in particular gave rise to public concern for the ideological viability of the new St. Petersburg enterprise. Financial solvency and strong leadership had allowed MAT to develop into a tightly- run, ideologically-focused operation; the Dramatic Theater had neither the financial Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 3 security of MAT, a resolute aesthetic position, nor a formed acting unit. LTnpropitious historical timing at the beginning o f the Dramatic Theater’s existence (all theaters were closed during periods o f general strike) exacerbated the theater’s financial difficulties. Censored texts, lack o f a single pedagogical orientation, and recycled sets and props caused the majority o f Dramatic Theater productions to appear unpolished and, in places, even amateur. Critics ignored the theater’s financial crises and faulted Kommissarzhevskaia for artistic inconsistency and ideological vacillation. Nonetheless, during its first season the Dramatic Theater became, according to one review, “the most interesting theater in St. Petersburg” fS-Peterburg vedomosti (24 November 1904) in Chronicle 265). As had been part o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s allure at the Alexandrine, the Dramatic Theater’s innovations were the theater’s best market ing feature. The actress capitalized on this factor by dividing the productions between four young directors, so that no one style o f directing would predominate,'* and addressing contentious political and moral issues through dramaturgic choices. Provocative plays such as lushkevich’s Hunger (Golod), and Gorkii’s Summer Folk (Dachniki) and Children o f the Sun {Deti solntsd) enticed audiences by their prohibition by the official State censorship.^ Gorkii s presence at the premiere of Summer Folk Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 84 exemplified the theater’s sensational profile, as Smimova-Sazonova noted in her diary for 10 November 1904: Liuba and I went to the first performance of Summer Folk. Tlie first act was confusing... Everyone liked the second act. The author was summoned. He came out dressed in a peasant blouse and smiled at the hall. After the third act... the orchestra section began to whistle, but those in the balconies began to call for the author more than before. For a while he didn’t show, then he finally came out and stood at the footlights. He didn’t bow but glared at the audience witli contempt. 1 waited for liim to stick out his tongue at us. But tlie public was enlivened, and they feverishly applauded... [In the play[ a young man with a moustache Just like Gorkii’s criticized all of us: “You’re not people.” he says, "just insignificant little beings." The balconies gave him a resounding round of applause for that. It was a great triumph for Gorkii.^" fLeaets313) The Dramatic Theater was developing during a politically turbulent period in Russian history, and a growing state of civic unrest (e.g., student and labor strikes, the rise of socialist organizations, political assassinations, the effect o f the disastrous 1905 w ar with Japan et al.) further galvanized the political left. The Dramatic Theater repertory followed this current and reflected new social values and challenges to the established order. The defiant attitude o f the Dramatic Theater in its fight with censorship and its staging o f progressive works appealed to the popular imagination. With growing student sympathies and support from left-wing political activists Gorkii, Leonid Krasin, and Anatolii Lunacharskii, the theater hall was recognized as a forum for social debate and platform for social change. Indicative o f the change in perception o f theater as a political voice, following the events o f January 1905 militia were posted near the Dramatic Theater proscenium to discourage overzealous student activists in the audience from reading public addresses to the actress;^' Summer Folk was pulled by the authorities hours before its performance on 18 January out of fear that Gorkii’s name on the poster might incite a Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 5 demonstration.^ By the end o f its first season^ despite financial loss, the Dramatic Theater seemed to encapsulate the spirit and energy o f idealism and social conviction that epitomized the new generation. Because of the message o f her theater’s productions and her own social activities Kommissarzhevskaia became identified as Gorkii’s theater equal. Conservative critics remained unplacated about the Dramatic Theater as a serious artistic venture because o f the theater’s audacious challenge to authority by staging (or attempting to stage) incendiary pieces and certainly by taking a chance staging works of dubious artistic merit by young writers. In addition, as discussed in Chapter I, the actress’s decision to leave the Alexandrine Theater undoubtedly also brought on increased scrutiny. Critics wondered how a theater that was gaining popular acceptance as the Theater of Ibsen” (and Gorkii) could also suddenly stage Ostrovskii classics from Kommissarzhev skaia’s old Alexandrine repertory, as it did in December 1904. In all actuality, the negative critical response pointed to the as-yet incipient state o f a modem dramaturgy and the Dramatic Theater’s lack of a shared acting methodology. The Dramatic Theater’s pecuniary problems were as much the result of Kommissarzhevskaia’s quest for an appropriate performance style as they were representative o f the paucity o f a contempo rary dramatur^ that could convey the message of social renewal and be convincingly, and artistically, staged by novice directors and actors.^^ The world o f ideas that contemporary dramaturgy offered had yet to find an equivalent production style in Komissarzhevskaia’s theater. For this reason, after the first season of naturalist and realist productions met with a relatively apathetic public response, in Spring of 1905 Komissarzhevskaia invited Akim Volynskii to discuss Ibsen’s The Master Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 86 Builder, scheduled for production in April, 1905. Volynskii's talk essentially changed the course of the Theater’s history and further solidified Kommissarzhevskaia’s aesthetic platform in the direction o f symbolic scenic representation. In his discussion, (subsequently published in Teatral'ncâa Rossiid\, Volynskii set forth his ideas concerning the practice of acting and the spiritual role o f the theater in everyday life: ideas that Volynskii developed during later service on the Dramatic Theater’s literary board. According to Volynskii, Ibsen’s The Master Builder had the potential “to break the prose o f theatricality” in which the Dramatic Theater had become entangled. He argued for a departure away from “artistic-realistic” acting toward an “artistic-ideological” style. By “searching out gesture and mime that would symbolize the work’s basic concept,” the public would be “elevated to understanding;” “spirituality” was to replace “theatrical routine.”^ " * Positive reviews lauded the actress’s explorations of new artistic territory, but the problem remained: the lack of a systematic way to embody the mood o f the symbolic play and its message on stage. As regards the above-mentioned production o f The Master Builder, most reviewers agreed that the actors conveyed emotion, but the nuances of the play’s inner dialogues were never achieved. The young journalist Komei Chukovsky commented that the actress was not able to overcome the type o f credulous young Germanic personalities she had created in works by Sudermann and Schnitzler, and that this incongruous acting technique transformed “the grand and stately Ibsen creation ” (Hilda) into “a kind o f naive, eccentric and even laughable figurineSophia Sazonova- Smimova’s eyewitness description o f The Master Builder helps to illustrate this criticism and the actress’s lack o f appropriate artistic interpretation: Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 7 The actors spoke the funniest lines with the most tragic expression on their face. "We will not build the hearth of home: we will build castles made of air." Then Kommissarzhevskaia opens her eyes wide in ecstasy. She turns her beaming face to the heavens, that is. up to the stage lifts . The whole thing wasn’t a performance (predstavlenie\ but a religious rite {sx’ iashchennodeistvie). fLetters 314) However, Sazonova-Smimova’s evaluation is even more significant for what it reveals about the prejudices o f the theater-going establishment towards an art form that deviated from proscribed tastes. Members o f the arts establishment like Sazonova- Smimova and Kugef were becoming more alienated by the Dramatic Theater produc tions at the same time as Ibsen’s revolutionary rhetoric and Maeterlinck’s spiritual redemption was gaining support among intellectuals and student groups. The question o f ideological affiliation is not easily resolved in regards to the Dramatic Theater at this point in its development. Kommissarzhevskaia had demon strated her inclination toward Symbolist art, and the promising young actors, artists, directors, and writers that Kommissarzhevskaia engaged for her theater brought with them new ideas that contrasted sharply with the artistic goals o f her more seasoned performers and advisors such as Samoilov, Arbatov (Arkhipov), the artist Viktor Kolenda, among others. Entries in Dramatic Theater day books during this period highlight the diversity o f opinion held by the theater’s governing board. Kolenda, who maintained that “without realism, there is nothing” (bez realizma— net nichego) must have had difficulty with the design for a play from the Symbolist canon, like Maeterl inck’s Antonius The Wanderer (staged under Meierkhol’d’s direction in December 1906). Kommissarzhevskaia’s close colleague from Ozerki days, Kazimir Bravich, agreed with Kolenda, noting that “the new direction isn’t new ” {novoe napravlenie - ne Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 88 novoe). The opposing camp (director Petr lartsev and Kommissarzhevskaia herself) used Symbolist rhetoric to advocate a “theater o f the soul” that was concerned with issues of metaphysics and questing rather than logic and the absolute. Following closely on Volynskii’s call for “spirituality” in the theater, Kommissarzhevskaia turned to the only director at the time who wholeheartedly experimented in Symbolist staging, Stanislavsky’s former pupil, Vsevolod MeierkhoFd. Bravich, Kolenda and two-thirds of the first season’s company eventually resigned, as Meierkhol’d and the company o f actors he brought with him fi'om Moscow fiirther accentuated the theater’s move away fi’ om realism. By taking Meierhol’d out o f the theatrical “laboratory” space with which Stanislavsky had provided him, Kommissarzhevskaia hoped to transform the Dramatic Theater stage into a “fi'ee and emancipating” theater and herself as the head o f the movement. As one reviewer wrote, “Actresses like Kommissarzhevskaia are needed by a free and emancipating theater that instead o f the dead footlights will bring with it the stormy, restless fires o f rebellion ” fNasha zhizn’ (28 December 1905). (According to her brother, Kommissarzhevskaia particularly liked her representation in this review) (Karpov 1911:213-214). Yet the controversial productions carried out by the young actor-director during his brief tenure with the Dramatic Theater “on Officer Street” would irreversibly identify Kommissarzhevskaia with Symbolist theater and, in retro spect, also heighten the discrepancy between innovative acting and theater production and the actress’s own artistic limitations. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 9 The Dramatic Theater “on OflRcer Street” (The Dramatic “Symbolist” Theater) Valerii Briusov was already an established member o f the younger generation o f Symbolist poets in the early years of the century when he turned to dramaturgy and performance. Briusov urged rejecting realism’s mimetic fundamental in favor of an aesthetic organizational principle—stylization; The stage must give everytliing that will aid tlie viewer in recreating in his imagination the circumstances demanded by the story line...Tliere is no need to destroy the set: but it must be consciously conventional— stylized. From the urmecessary truth of the contemporary stage I call for conscious stylization. * (“Unnecessary Truth,” 1902) and his ideas were envisioned by Meierkhol’d. with whom Briusov had worked as literary consultant at the Moscow Art Theater Theater-Studio during 1905-06. As he elaborated in “On the History and Technique of Theater” (Meierkhol’d 1968:105-113), Meierkhol’d incorporated the advances of European contemporaries Adolphe Appia, Gordon Craig, and Max Reinhardt in his scenic resolutions, resulting in the syncretic effect of total production in which the “movement o f lines and color spots” coordinated all aspects of production.^* Rather than replicating the body’s natural anatomical distribution of weight, Meierkhol’d’s poses and gestures were stylized and sculptural in form, visually derived from classical bas-relief sculpture and medieval painting. Rhythm was also reflected in the carefully-choreographed movements o f the performers, their crafted speech patterns, and intonation. In July 1904 Meierkhol’d was already looking * Cnena gajtama gauaTb Bce, »rro noMoxer apirrejiio BoccraHOBim>, b Boo6paxeHHH, oôcraHOBKy, TpeôyeMyio (paôyjioü ra>ecbi...Her HagoôHocTH yuHMToxaTb oGcranoBKy, ho oHa gojDKHa ôbiTb co3HaTejibHO ycaoBHoA. Ona goJUK H a 6biTb rax cxaaarb cnuiHaoBaHHa... O r HeHyxHOH npaBgbi coBpeMeHHbix cueH B sosy k cosH aTeJtbHO M ycnoBHocTH. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 0 for a sponsor to help create his dream o f “a theater o f Maeterlinck, D’Annunzio, Przybyszewski,” and promote his interest in synthesis o f the arts and stylization as artistic means to portray the principles o f Symbolism scenically. As he wrote to actor Konstantin Babain; Don’t you know of anyone I could bring into tills business witli capital? A theater with a completely new repertory, tlie theater of Maeterlincks D’Aimunzio. Przybyszewski will earn itself a large public... a "Theater of the SpiriL” a theater as reaction against naturalism, a theater of convention everu but a tlieater of the spirit. What a beautiful task. (Meierkhol’d 1976:48) He was first able to work through some o f his ideas in Stanislavsky’s Theater-Studio, and Kommissarzhevskaia’s invitation the following year^^ for Meierkhol’d to join her re organized theater must have been very compelling for the young director: it would symbolize the joining o f forces between a young idealist who had declared war on daily life {byt) and theater routine and a popular actress-directrisse who was making a name for herself as proponent o f the New Art. Cognizant o f shaping public perception, and eager to cast herself as proponent o f the New, Kommissarzhevskaia marked the change in her theater’s orientation by changing locales to the former Nemetti Theater on Officer Street, adjacent to the Imperial Mariinskii Theater. She refurbished the Nemetti Theater to convey the metaphysical atmosphere of an ancient temple with while columns and wide benches; a curtain panel entitled “Elysium” painted by Leon Bakst hung above the stage. While the theater was being renovated, the troupe members met in temporary quarters on English Lane to discuss the Symbolist concepts they were to embody on stage. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 1 The Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater was a literary theater; that is, the abstract meaning and mood of the text, not emotion or character development, largely deter mined the tenor o f the production. In order to introduce her young actors and artists to contemporary Russian and European texts and their philosophical orientation, Kommissarzhevskaia (apparently encouraged by Meierlchol’d’s close fnend from the Theater-Studio, Boris Pronin) inaugurated her new theater’s first season with a series o f informal art sessions or “Saturdays,” held at the temporary rehearsal locale.^* Poets whose work was subsequently considered for Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater production, such as Aleksandr Blok, Valerii Briusov, Viacheslav Ivanov, Fedor Sologub, and Lidiia Zinovieva-Annibal read poetic and dramatic works; the actors performed short pieces, and Kommissarzhevskaia entertained with gypsy romances (her light entertainment specialty from pre-professional days). Unlike the traditional literary salon, Kommissarzhevskaia’s “Saturdays” brought the intimate space o f the salon into the democratic space of the theater-rehearsal hall. But the ’’Saturdays” were still a private club: access was by personal invitation or tickets sold to select members o f the public. Kommissarzhevskaia assumed the role o f hostess, but her literary guests held center stage. The literary salon, long a convention in Russian cultural life, had a contemporary counterpart in Viacheslav Ivanov’s “Tower,” and the two St. Petersburg gatherings functioned interactively. Many o f the works recited at the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater “Saturdays,” e.g., Ivanov’s “Dithyramb ” and Blok’s “King on the Square,” were also published in Ivanov’s Tower almanac, Fakely (The Torches)}'* Meierkhol’d was a frequent visitor to the Tower, and together Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 2 with Ivanov and Georgii Chulkov had planned the Tower’s own theater group, also to be entitled “The Torches.” The Tower theater was never inaugurated, and it is probable that the public stage o f the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater during Meierkhofd’s tenure functioned largely as the embodiment of the unrealized “Torches” theater. A brief analysis o f the theater’s first production, Ibsen’s Hedda Gabier (10 November 1906), with Kommissarzhevskaia in the title role, provides an example o f the contradictions posed by a literary theater. Meierkhol’d’s goal was the harmony of scenic elements to create a “synthesis of impressions.” By relegating naturalistic detail to the dust heap and highlighting ‘impressions,’ Meierkhol’d thought to generate what he considered to be the genuine meaning of the Ibsen piece. Yet the total production, with its effect of "blue, frigid expansiveness" (produced by reducing the color spectrum o f the sets and costumes to a pale palette of blues and greens and limiting expression o f emotion to static form and stylized speech) struck even sympathetic viewers such as Blok and Lunacharskii as antithetical to the nature o f the Ibsen original. As would be the rule with many Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater productions, the original sets (the product of master artists such as Mstislav Dobuzhinskii, Nikolai Sapunov, Sergei Sudeikin, et al.) ofien became the focus of attention and appealed to the audience’s imagination more than the acting or staging. Critics agreed that the director had not yet found a way to express the “tone and nuances o f experiences ” that he felt were the real motivating forces in the Ibsen piece, and without this guidance the company's young actors were unable to find their key to the role. Reviewers agreed with Aleksandr Blok’s analysis that no one involved in the production seemed to understand the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 3 essence of Ibsen (see Note 42). Kommissarzhevskaia did not escape criticism: beneath her style m odem e costume, “fiir, and plastic poses,” one reviewer sensed the “betraying tone of The Powervless Bride, that grated on the ear in the kingdom o f gobelin and green frock coats” (in Rech’ (12 November 1906) in Chronicle 337). Paradoxically, the reviewer’s critique o f the actress’s reliance on physicality (by which I mean the representation o f life-like emotion and temperament) proved to be the winning component in the only success in Kommissarzhevskaia and Meierkhol’d’s joint endeavors. This was the production o f Maurice Maeterlinck’s miracle play. Sister Beatrice (premiere 22 November 1906), the “most fully-realized Meierkhol’dian Symbolist production ” (Deak 1982:42).^^ A complete departure from the naturalist repertory of the first Dramatic Theater, Maeterlinck’s play epitomized the Symbolist idealization of Art as sacred act, much as Sazonova-Smimova had observed in The Master Builder. The concept of art as religious experience barkened to theater’s classical origins and theater as the communal serving o f a religious rite suited both Symbolist theoreticians such as Chulkov, who advocated mystical anarchism as the means for a re-organization of communal life and others such as Belii, Blok, and Briusov who also acclaimed the transformational power of the Poet as Theurg. This concept also fit Kommissarzhevskaia’s ideology o f art as the key to social renovation/*’ Yet instead o f uniting audience and actor in exultation o f the spiritual, the abstruseness of Symbolist theater only further cleaved the Artist from the masses. The diflBculty of production became increasingly apparent as Komissarzhevskaia found herself unable to adapt to Meierkhol’d’s scenic demands, his insistence on stylized movement and Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 4 controlled vocal range to convey a metaphysical message. In this respect, Kommissarzhevskaia’s instincts as a performer revealed the problems o f Meierkhol’d’s approach. She may well have agreed with Belii, for whom the very premise of Symbolist theater was illogical: after all. the whole power of drama lies in realized action. The symbolist bond of images . is realized in drama as a bond of new relationships in life. In life these relationships are still no more than potential. TIi^ are not realized. The symbolist drama is a peep into the future. And so those images conv^ed into the circle of the dramatic enactment are not real or actual on stage ..The actual task of the actor in the new theater is almost infeasible: to portray the hero's psychology with soul and flesh transfigured and with all the psycho-physiological spasms that accompany rebirth. One must be a new man oneself, not in word, but in deed. And where among us are these such performers? Tliere are none, there can be none. (Belii 1981: 166-167) The actor must be turned into a “stifl^jointed puppet” in order to convey the real meaning o f the Symbolist text, but “every so often the actor pops out and forgets that he is a puppet.” Kommissarzhevskaia’s success as Sister Beatrice occurred in those moments o f popping out,’ when she overcame the conventions o f stylized acting and showed identifiable human emotion. Verigina (1974), who performed with Kommissarzhevskaia, described the actress’s creative energy as a “creative tremor;” Kommissarzhevskaia “merged with the play’s overall musical concept and revealed the eternal female soul o f Beatrice” (in Tovarishch 24 November 1906 in Chronicle 341). Kommissarzhevskaia’s public image as scenic martyr resurfaced, as the public began to see her less as a leader in theater reform and more as sacrifice to current fads and artistic despotism. One reviewer encapsulated this view in imagery that crowned Gaideburov’s analysis o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s ordeal at the Alexandrine. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 5 Mme Kommissarzhevskaia pays tribute to our times, to our pathological discontenL and she pays in excess; she sacrifices her own distinctive and splendid individuality * (Russkoe slovo (5 September 1907) in Chronicle 529-530) As a performer, Kommissarzhevskaia sought the integrity o f the actor and primacy o f acting- Director Meierkhol’d, influenced by Wagnerian principles of scenic synthesis and the primacy o f musicality, sought the integration o f all scenic elements, including the actor’s individual creative expression, into his concept o f a balanced, complete theatrical production. Into its second season this primary difference in artistic orienta tion began to weigh on the operations of the young theater By the summer o f 1907 Kommissarzhevskaia was put in the position of publical- ly defending the experimental nature of the work being done in her theater. “I admit that I personally and my colleagues sometimes make mistakes,” she stated in a newspaper interview, having entered on our new path, that is. performing in the way which I consider necessary and important to perfonn...With all my heart 1 am striving to direct my theater into new. as yet unformulated directions that have begun to assertively gain a position of superiority in artistic literature, poetry, dramaturgy , painting, sculpture, music. The absence o f the art o f theater from the actress’s list was subsequently justified by an admission of her own imperfect interpretational skill. Echoing Briusov’s condemnation o f realist art as ‘uimecessary truth’ and lauding o f Symbolism as the ‘key to the myster ies,’ she continued:"*^ Today the realistic reproduction of daily life has become uninteresting and unnecessary ...human thought and the human soul now strive to find in art the key to * r - x a K o M M H c c a p x e B C K a n lu ia T H T a a n b n a iu e M y B p e w e H H , H a m e ir 6 o J ib H o fi H eyA O B JieT B opeH H O C T H , H n j i a n r r o n a c r p a u i H o M H o ro : o n a n p H H o cH T b a c e p T B y c b g i o H e o fib iK H o B eH H y io f i o r a T y i c H H R H B M ayajib H o c rb . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 6 understanding the ''eternal." the key to the riddle of profound world mysteries, tlie kqr to revealing the spiritual world. Routine must now disappear from the stage and secede to creative endeavors that must plummet the still unknown depths of what is human in the spiritual and what is spiritual in the human...! myself notice that only gradually am 1 able to inculcate myself with the feeling of tlie style, the rhythm, the mood of a given play and role. Sometimes I agonize tliat I can feel and understand, but still can't express this coherently.* (Tamarin 1907) The Dramatic Theater’s second season repertory was similar to the first, with promi nence given to Russian and European Symbolist plays. Kommissarzhevskaia performed in only two of the four plays scheduled for premiere in fall, 1907, and became increas ingly critical of Meierkhol’d’s directing. She placed high hopes in her premiere of Meterlinck’s Pelléas and Mélisande. the translation of which she had cotntnissioned from Valerii Briusov (the play premiered 10 October 1907). The actress’s attraction to the role may well have been bolstered by Briusov’s verse dedicated to Kommissarzhev skaia, entitled “To Mélisande,” and what was probably a romantic relationship with the poet, the intensity of which is intimated in her emotionally-laden letters to Briusov from this period often signed by the actress as “Mélisande” (See Chapter IV). However, the production and her portrayal of the delicate Mélisande were received by critics as a sell out to Meierkhol’d’s crippling of the actor’s natural tools o f voice and movement; the * R co3Haio, 9T O H a, H M O M TO B apH iU M gejiaeM. HHorqa ouih6kh, BcrymiB Ha H O B biH nyrb, T.e., M Tpaa Tax, k& k a c*nrraio HyacHbiM h BaacHbiM HrpaTb.. J l ace bcch ayuioH crpeMJiiocb nanpaBHTb C B O H TeaTp no hobmm eme TO JibK o HaM cnaeM biM nyraM, Koropbie crajiH Bce BJiacrnee h BJiacrnee saBoeBbiBaxb ce6e nepBeHcrao b xyaoacecTBeHHoft JinrepaType, b noasHH, apaMarypruH, acHBonncH, cicyjinbType, M y3biKe...Tenepb peajibHoe BocnpoHaBegeHHe ribira xyqoacHHKaM H Bcex poflOB M C K yccTB a crajio yace fljia mhophx HeHHrepecHbiM, HeHyacHbiM...'iejioBeqecKaa Mbicnb, nejioBecKaa gyma crpeMarca renepb b H cicyccTBe Hafrra kjhoh k noanaKHio "BeuHoro”, k pasragKe rJiySoKHx MHpoBbix TaAH, h k pacKpbiTHK) ayxoBHoro M Hpa. Bmt noJiaceH renepb HcneaHyxb co cqenbi, ycrynuB CBoe Mecro raxoMy TBopaecTBy. KOTopoe gojiacHo sarpoHyrb eme H e H .3BeaaHHbie pjiyriHH bi nenoBenecKoro b 6oacecTBeH H O M h 6oacecTBeHHoro b nejiOBenecKOM.. Sf caxa laMenaio, aro roJibxo nocrenenno BbipaSarbiBaio b ce6e 'lyecTBo cnuia, pHTMa, HacrpoeHHa gaHHoA nbecw h pojin. R MHorqa MyaureabHo noaxoacy k roMy, *rro ayBcryio, noHHMaio, ho He Mory eme aocraroHHo apxo BbipasHTb. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 7 actress’s talent had been “fettered,” she was reduced to “a marionette, or at best, a living picture” (Obozrenie teatrov (12 October 1907) in Chronicle 368). As Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater failures increased, so did Komissarzhevskaia’s displeasure with Meierkhol’d. In letters from mid-November to her new confidant, Briusov, Kommissarzhevskaia tried to explain the growing tension in her theater that would eventually lead to Meierkhol’d’s scandalous firing mid-season: Meierkh[ol’d| staged Victory of Death* as only a deranged person could. It had everything— an unsuccessful attempt to assign tlie actors rhythmic poses from classical tragedy, a Meiningen crowd scene, chuckles from the MAT actors. rhythm[ical] recitation (like we hear when Fedor Kuzmich reads monologues from his plays), and the inescapable picturesque movement and gestures of almost everyone involved...! was at the dr[ess] rehearsal and said that this is bad from start to finish. I didn’t have the strength to go to the performance, my heart was so clenched.** ^ On 9 November 1907 the company gathered to hear Bravich read Kommissarzhev skaia’s letter o f dismissal to Meierkhol’d (the original had been delivered earlier) (Letters 168). Kommissarzhevskaia based her dismissal on what had become antithetical aesthetic concerns between herself and her director. Indeed, the details of stylized production mentioned in the above citation foreshadowed the platform o f Meierkhol’d’s subsequent independent theatrical pursuit, the Intimate Theater, which he organized * Kommissarzlievskaia refers to Fedor Kuzmich Sologub’s Victon of Death, which premiered in the Dramatic Theater 6 November 1907. without Kommissarzlievskaia s participation. ** MeHeplxojibflj nocraBHJi «TloSeay CMeprn», Kax Moncer aro cgejiaTt cobccm pacrepjiBUiHHca HejioBex,— Tyr 6boio see: HeygaiHan nonbmca garb axrepaw noabi nnacnpiecKH apeanen TparegHM. M eÜ H H eH reH C K an TOJina, xoxoraicrepoB H 3 rpynnbi MocK(oBCKoroj Xyfl(o3KecTBeHHoroj rearpa, nHTKa axTcpoB (pHTMm(ecKaii|), Kaxyio M bi cnbiinHM, Korna 4>eaop KyabWbiu caM npoH3HocnT M O H O JIO P H H 3 C B O H X H bC C , H Hem ÔClKHaJl K apTH H H O C Tb flB IC K eH H H H M H M H K H B C eX 3a oqCHb MaJlblM H CKJuiqeHHeM yqacTByioutHX. Bce aro noHpaaiuiocb oTM acTH ny©JiHKe h annoJiHe peiteHacHTaM nerepOyprcKHX raser, npusH aB LU H X oohth eaimornacHo, ‘iro Mettepx[ojibfl| HaxoHex "onoMHHJicsi", rax xax BepHyjic» x crapbiM (popwaM. 5 1 Cibuia Ha reHep[aJibHOH| penenutHH h cxaaajia, 'iro Bce aro nojDCo c naqana go xonua. B una ne b ciuiax noitTH na cnexraxnb, rax mxara y werni 6bina gyma. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 98 towards the end o f the 1908. The elitist orientation o f the “artistic puppet theater” (balagcm) (as the director described his new theater in a letter to Lidiia Gurevich) was clearly at odds with Kommissarzhevskaia’s civic ( utilitarian’ q.v. Kugel’) convictions.^^ As critics (and newspaper caricaturists) agreed^ Meierkhol’d’s intense stylization o f production had catapulted him to the position o f maniacal puppeteer and reduced the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater entourage, including the leading lady, to docile mario nettes. Meierkhol’d sued the actress for breach o f contract, but lost his court case.^ With Meierkhol’d’s departure (along with the actors who supported him), the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater never regained its financial stability or artistic direction. On the other hand, Kommissarzhevskaia retained her popular appeal, having freed herself from the "spider’s sticky clutches” that had engulfed her, as she described to Briusov in mid-November, 1907 (see Chapter IV for full citation). The actress’s first performance after the firing of Meierkhol’d as Nora in Ibsen’s Doll’s House I I 1 November 1907) was met with cries o f “Bravo. Vera Fedorovna,” “Down With (Doloi) Meierkhol’d” lObozrenie teatrov 114 November 1907) 18). The actress seemingly had regained preeminence in her own theater and popularity with theater audiences. Yet it was not entirely Kommissarzhevskaia’s inability to find an appropriate acting style, as she indicated in the interview citation, above, that led to the crisis in her theater. With the exception o f perhaps Anton Chekhov and Leonid Andreev, Russian Symbolist dramaturgy simply did not produce works that could be easily mounted. Other innovative private companies such as the St. Petersburg Ancient Theater Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 9 {Stahnnyi teatr) found material for scenic experimentation in works by medieval European dramatists such as Lope de Vega and Adam de la Halle. Yet although the Ancient Theater and Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater shared directors (Nikolai Evreinov), artists (e.g., Aleksandr Benois, Mstislav Dobuzhinskii, Nikolai Kalmakov), and, to a certain extent, audience, they did not share a philosophy. (Segel’s (1993:57-58) contention that Realist and Symbolist drama/theater differed from Theatrical theater on the basis o f a philosophical and social [my emphasis] orientation rather than formal properties corroborates my viewpoint). Kommis-sarzhevskaia was determined to present the “New” art, and by this she meant not only visual representation but new literary works as well: she had rejected Meierkhol’d’s leaning towards the type of theatrical theater that was essentially the Ancient Theater’s artistic platform, but had not yet determined exactly what should take its place. The lack of a repertory continued to be a problem for her theater and for the actress’s own artistic development, and as much as she might have wanted to see her stage become the showcase for new Russian dramaturgy, Kommissarzhevskaia found few roles that appealed to her artistic sense. The Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater signaled its renewed commitment to Symbolist drama with a season premiere of Frank Wede kind’s 1891 sensationalist play about sexual repression, Frûhlings Erwachen (Spring Awakening). As had been the case in the first Dramatic Theater, Kommissarzhevskaia did not perform in the opening play. In fact, the actress starred in only two premieres that fall, Maeterlinck’s Pélleas and Mélisande. referred to, above, and, after the break with Meierkhol’d, Ibsen’s The Master Builder, now under the direction o f her brother. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 100 Fedor. O f these productions, only one offered a new role for the actress. Through November and early January, 1908, Kommissarzhevskaia primarily performed her Ibsen classics, while her company premiered only one Russian Symbolist play, Aleksei Remizov’s Devilry (Besovskoe dejstvo) (4 December 1907, with sets by Mstislav Dobuzhinskii and directed by Fedor Komisaijevslqr). While she regrouped her company after the departure of Meierkhol’d and his supporters, Kommissarzhevskaia also planned out future roles that she hoped to premiere upon return from a European and American tour in the spring of 1908: Francesca da Rimini in Gabriele D’Annunzio’s 1901 verse drama, and Berta Borotine in Franz Grillparzer’s early nineteenth-century Romantic drama. Die Ahnfrau (The Ancestress). Briusov had already provided her with his translation o f the D’Annunzio piece, and by January 1908 Blok was commencing his version of Die Ahnffau. In early December o f 1907 the actress was also planning to stage a Russian version o f Wilde’s controversial play Salome The Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s 1907 season was thus marked by aesthetic upheaval. On the advice o f Pavel Orlenev, who had successfully toured America with Alla Nazimova a few years earlier, Kommissarzhevskaia decided to tour Europe and America to recover emotionally from the events of the fall and recoup economic losses. Undoubtedly influenced by the popularity o f her provincial Russian tour repertory, the actresses chose mainly her old standbys: Sudermann’s St. John’s Eve Fire. Battle o f the Butterflies. Heimat (Magda): Ibsen’s A Doll’s House and The Master Builder. O f her newest roles, Kommissarzhevskaia planned to perform in Sister Beatrice but, much to her disappointment, the play was not mounted due to iticompetent tour management. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 101 The tour took place from March until May, 1908, to overwhelmingly poor reviews. American promoters seemed unsure how to bill her. since her repertory and indeed the staging history o f her two theaters presented conflicting evidence. A review in the New York Globe based its point o f reference on Kommissarzhevskaia’s first theater and lauded her present theater as “the center of the revolt’ drama Others hailed Kommissarzhevskaia as “the Russian Duse,” a reference to the Italian actress Eleonora Duse with whom Kommissarzhevskaia shared repertory and a similar lyrical acting style. The Daly Theater advertisement for Kommissarzhevskaia could well have been used for Duse’s stay years before: it described the Russian as an “actress of the naturalistic or realistic school... graceful in carriage, and with a wonderfully mobile face... able to differentiate the characters she plays so that every creation becomes a new personage, and a new being, entirely free from the manners and traits o f the performer.”" * * This last comment was an allusion to the passionate declamatory style o f divas such as Sarah Bernhardt or Russian ex-patriot Alla Nazimova who also toured America.*® Yet, ironically, it was precisely the flamboyant stage presence o f actresses such as these that American audiences had responded to best. Upon leaving America after a financially disastrous tour, in an interview in The New York Times Kommissarzhevskaia consoled herself with the observation that, apart from the language barrier and poor tour management, the problem lay not in her acting, but in the dearth of sophistication among American theater audiences. I consider the chief cause of the lack of interest in our company to have been the fact that Americans have not yet reached the stage where they can appreciate simplicity in art. What is simple appeals to them as uninspired the acting that was obviously more or less vulgar [referring to an American production she had seen-A://n| they Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 102 applaudecL..It seemed to me ...that your audiences are not at all critical of the acting; in feet, care little about it fNew Y ork Times 24 April 1908) In her New York Times statement, the actress argued against stylization and in favor of a ‘simple’ approach, by which she probably meant the ‘natural school of acting’ with had earned her an early success. After this time, with only slight exception (e.g., Francesca in D’Annuncio’s Francesca da Rimini. Kareno in Knut Hamsun’s At the Gates to the Kingdom). Kommissarzhevskaia limited her premieres to dramatic and comedic roles from classical European dramaturgy (e.g., Berta Borotine in Grillparzer’s Romantic drama P ie Ahnfrau. Phylint in Gluck’s one-act operetta Queen o f the Mayl: she also revitalized her productions o f Ibsen. However, her enthusiastic directors (primarily Nikolai Evreinov and Fedor Komisaijevsky) would continue to premiere the works o f decadent and Symbolist dramatists during the theater’s 1908-09 season, though without Kommissarzhevskaia’s participation.*" In such a way, Kommissarzhevskaia’s theater preserved its reputation for “revolutionary,” innovative production while the actress regained her artistic balance and emotional fulfillment. Although the aesthetic latitude o f the theater’s planned productions of Die Ahnfrau. Queen of the May, and Salome alone might suggest a lack o f artistic direction, Kommissarzhevskaia’s intent was to bring forth “meaningful” art that coincided with her compelling idea of aesthetics as a means to raise consciousness and thereby bring about positive social change. Kommissarzhevskaia’s concern for relevancy was especially pressing after the breach in audience connection that had occurred throughout her American tour, but the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 3 actress’s goals were neither simple nor clearly defined. In another New York Times interview Kommissarzhevskaia offered an adamant stance regarding the limitations o f Realist theater— there must be som ething more elevated on the stage— hut little else in terms o f a concrete aesthetic plan: There must be something more elevated on tlie stage, something higher and more artistic. In my work I strive for a combination of symbolism and realism, for the underfymg significance of things...The real drama s not tlie drama of the present or the drama of the past. It is the eternal drama— perhaps the drama of the fiiture. who knows?...I am always searching for new forms, the new dramatic idea and the new inspiration. I search and I search.^^ Between 1908 and 1909 Kommissarzhevskaia’s quest brought only a modicum of gentle peaks rather than the spectacular flourishes she had known earlier in her career. In Moscow with her troupe the summer following the disastrous America tour, the actress achieved a certain self-satisfaction knowing that her performance as Francesca da Rimini (with direction by Nikolai Evreinov and sets by Mstislav Dobuzhinskii) was much preferred to the local Moscow Maly Theater’s premiere of the same piece. However, her satisfaction would be short-lived, since the role of Francesca would not prove as enduring as her Rosie ( Tight o f the Butterfliesl or even Ibsen’s Hilda (The Master Builder). (Francesca da Rimini ran for only three performances in the theater’s home venue). Indeed, the consequences of the summer Moscow tour were not difficult to predict. As she had done in her first Dramatic Theater, in order assure box office returns Kommissarzhevskaia reverted to her old repertory, and she chose to perform a role she had premiered in the early years of her career (Varia in Ostrovskii’s Child o f Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 104 Naturel for a celebration performance marking her fifteen years o f stage service (17 September 1908, Moscow Ermitazh theater). The financial reason for Kommissarzhevskaia’s choice o f the Ostrovskii coming- of-age play over her recent decadent Symbolist ventures should not be overlooked at the expense of accusations o f artistic betrayal (as Meierkhol’d often lodged against her under similar circumstances). Yet, the actress’s own enjoyment o f the role and its significance in her career (let alone its historical popularity among theater audiences) might well have served to bolster the actress’s weakening sense o f power on stage and position in the theater in general. In this regard, Kommis- sarzhevskaia’s gamble to perform as Varia proved right. Rather than taken as a sign o f capitulation, writers and critics such as Tat iana Shchepkina-Kupemik acknowledged a cohesive link between the actress’s Russian Realist and Ibsen and Maeterlinck roles, and after the perfor mance Blok sent his praises to the “tender inspiration o f youth on the Russian stage” (in Gastroli 1909). The actress premiered only the role o f Francesca during the 1908-09 season. In her professional life Kommissarzhevskaia was at the point where aesthetic and political ‘fetters’ were encroaching her success as leader o f the theater o f the future.’ In fact, most of the progressive European (e.g., Hauptmann, Rachilde, Wilde) and Russian works (e.g., Andreev and Sologub) performed in the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s 1908-09 season were staged without the actress’s participation in the cast, whereas Kommissarzhevskaia’s Francesca caused biographer Nikolai Tamarin to lament that the actress still seemed “wrapped in the fetters o f modernism.”” Salome (under the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 5 direction o f Evreinov) was suddenly closed by the authorities on the day o f the premiere (28 October); increased economic difficulties were having a discouraging effect on the theater and entrepreneur herself®* Indeed, Kommissarzhevskaia’s return to her old repertory (e.g., Sudermann’s melodramas Heimat and St. John’s Eve Firel while the rest o f her company continued to stage Symbolist novelties might also be seen as a psychological response to the emo tional duress o f the past season. By staging her well-known pieces and musicals, Kommissarzhevskaia may also have been attempting to regain the bond with her audience that she had earlier enjoyed. In fact, only a few days after the failed production of Salome. Kommissarzhevskaia performed the breeches role o f Phylint in Gluck’s 18*- century pastorale. Queen o f the Mav.* Audiences seemed relieved to be entertained and not partaking in a sacred ritual: The old melodic pastorale was revived in tones reminiscent of Somov and Musatov ...And the audience sat in comfbrtable cliairs. playing as it were with decorated, shiny dolls, far from the footlights, far from life with its gender issues, the censorship of Salome, Purishkevich's exploits (a leader in the ultra right-wing Black Hundreds- klm \. and the events in the Far East. ( {Arbiter) Rech’ ( I November 1908) in Chronicle 422) Not surprisingly, given Kommissarzhevskaia’s musical talents and formative comic roles, the Queen o f the May was well-received, as were her Ibsen pieces. Yet her search for the “underlying significance o f things” that she hoped to find in “eternal drama” o f German Romanticism proved a false path, and despite the care and attention that went into the stellar production staff of Franz Grillparzer’s Die Ahnfrau (1817), the tragic * Premiere 30 October 1908. Directed by Fedor Komisarjevsky. K.I. Evseev designed the set Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 6 role did not suit her acting temperament;®* Kommissarzhevskaia’s Berta Borotine was “pale and boring” (Russkoe slovo (11 September 1909) in Chronicle 4551. Leonid Andreev’s Neo-Romantic medieval allegory. The Black Masks (Chernye maskf), Fedor Sologub’s erotic caper Vanka the Steward and Jean the Page (Van ’ ka Kliuchnik ipazh Zhean), the latter both staged by Evreinov, and Komisaijevsky’s reconstitution of Grillparzer’s tragedy Die Ahnfrau were among the last new produc tions staged by the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater in St. Petersburg: their failure signaled the theater’s demise, and only Die Ahnfrau featured Kommissarzhevskaia’s stage involvement. Kommissarzhevskaia finished the season by presenting her old repertory o f Ibsen, Ostrovskii, and the Russian naturalist plays she had performed in her first Dramatic Theater. Perhaps as a mark of her rejection o f non-Realist stage Kommissarzhevskaia gave a one hundredth performance as Ibsen’s Nora for her final St. Petersburg performance (8 February 1909). While a supporter would later castigate theater audiences for the failure of the Dramatic Theater with the cry that “the crowd was deaf.” (Tolpa byla glukhai), the real problem was more complex.®* The history o f the Dramatic Theater was the history of unfulfilled hopes, and Kommissarzhevskaia had yet to find her dramaturgy and director. By performing a theory of acting that was not appropriate to her dramatic gifts, be it Meierkhol’d’s stylization, Evreinov’s theatrical ity, or Komisaijevsky’s combination of the two, the actress never succeeded in finding her own artistic voice. Nonetheless, Kommissarzhevskaia continued to look to modem models for acting, and in Spring 1909 she traveled to Munich to see a Reinhardt production of Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 7 Friedrich HebbeFs psychological study, Judith ri840V The role would be Kommissarzhevskaia’s last creation. Reinhardt’s performance was canceled, and one can only wonder whether Kommissarzhevskaia’s portrayal might have been more successful, had she been able to view the Reinhardt version. She premiered the role in Moscow in September 1909, where it was met with a lukewarm reception. According to one reviewer, in Kommissarzhevskaia’s interpretation, the tragic role was painted with “a thin brush, where Repin’s broad strokes” were needed.In some respects, the Dramatic Theater’s failure was due to the actress’s inability to suit her talents to the roles she wished to perform. When finances forced her company to abandon the Nemetti Theater, Kommissarzhevskaia performed in private theaters in the capital cities. In the late fall o f 1909, she set off with her company on a year-long tour that would take her through the cities o f western Russia eastward to Central Asia. Two major professional decisions marked the last year o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s life: her decision to resign from acting following her provincial tour, and her resolution to turn her energies to organizing a school. Had Kommissarzhevskaia lived longer, she would have added a fourth section to her work chronology, “the school for the New Person.” This idea was taking shape while on tour, perhaps influenced by Belii’s 1908 article “Theater and Modem Drama” (a passage is quoted earlier): Belii (1990:347) in fact suggests that the actress wished to entrust her “child” (i.e., her idea for a school) to him. In order to devote herself to her new endeavor, early into her tour Kommissarzhevskaia announced her resignation from theater. Her resignation was not expected. As she had done with issues o f magnitude in the past (i.e., the Meierkhol’d Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 8 incident), Kommissarzhevskaia presented her intentions in the form o f a written document and delegated the transmission to a trusted colleague. On the final day o f the Kharkov tour (16 November 1909), director Arkadii Zonov read the actress’s statement to the assembled company: That great anxiety, which t now e.xperience concerning what I have to tell you. would impede nw speech, and for this reason. 1 write. For those of you who have worked and continue to work with me. believing in me— I must and I want to share my decision with you: at the end of this trip I will retire completely from the theater. Whether for a long time or forever, this does not depend on me. I leave because theater in the form in which it now exists has ceased to seem necessarx to me. and tlie path that I strode in my searching for new forms has ceased to seem true to me. To those of you who value the artist in me. 1 want also to say that this artist is leaving the theater with a soul as full and as clear as never before, firm in the belief in the limitlessness and accessibiliw of the truly beautiful, and when and however quietly as you might strike this soul, it will hear you and answer to your call. I era Kommissarzhevskaia* It is one o f the few pieces o f first-hand documentation written by the actress that she dated, an act that signifies the importance o f the object and in its finality treats the writing as an act o f closure, as binding as a legal document. Rather than citing financial disaster, the actress focused on her personal dissatisfaction with the work of her theater and her own acting as reasons for retirement. However, we also find the same theme o f lack of trust and belief in the institution o f theater that she had voiced in her letter of resignation to the Alexandrine Theater almost a decade before. Rather than loss of faith in the official theater system, this time Kommissarzhevskaia distrusted the viability o f * To 6ojibmoe BOJUieH He. xaKoe nepexcHBaio a, Kacaacb Toro, o <ieM cxaxy ceifuac, noMemano 6bi M H C roBopHTb H noTOMy nrauy. C tcmh h3 Bac. k to paSoraji h pa6oTaeT co mhoU, aepa b mchji— ji A O JD K H a, a xoqy nonejnm>cB cbohm peuienueM: no OKoimaHHeM 3ToA noeaqKH a yxoxy cobccm h3 Tearpa. HaqoJiro jih, uaBcerna JU f— aaBHcerb s to 6yfler He o r weHB. R yxoxcy noroMy. *ito re a rp b Toft (popMe, B KaKoA O H (^meCTByerceipiac— nepecran mhc KasaxbcH nyxcHbiM h nyrb, KoropwM H mna b M CKammx HOBbix (popw. nepecran wne KaaaxbCB BepubiM. Tew h3 Bac, Kowy qopor bo mhc xynoxHHK, 9 xony cxaaaTb eme, hto xyAoxoooc s t o t yxoflHT h3 TeaTpa c Ayiuoil, hojihoA h 6ojibme Hew Koraa-JmGo bchoh, TBepqoA Bepbi b HeHccHKaeMocrb h AocrmKHMOcTb hcthhho npexpacHoro, H Korga H xax 6bi thxo bbi hh nocryuaiiHCb b ary ayuiy— ona ycJibiuiHT Bac h orxJiHXHercji Ha 30b Bam. Bepa K om m ccapxeB C K asi Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 10 9 the current state o f theater in general. When theater in the form in which it now exists’ seemed incapable o f conveying Kommissarzhevskaia’s mission as spiritual and moral guide, the actress sought the transformational power o f art in her new educational project. To this end, at the same time as she was preparing her resignation letter, the actress was also working out plans to create a school by enlisting the help o f Jurgis Baltrushaitis as theoretician and her associate Aleksandr D’iakonov as school administrator.*® Her interest in pedagogy replicated the actions o f contemporaries Bernhardt and Duse, not to mention male counterparts Gordon Craig, Meierkhol’d, and Stanislavsky, all of whom created acting schools in conjunction with their acting or directing activities.^ However, Kommissarzhevskaia’s plan did not focus on specifics o f an art institution; her curriculum was motivated by the interrelationship of personal spiritual life and art. I am opening a school,” she wrote to her sister Olga at the end of 1909, “but this will not be just a school. This will be a place where people, young souls, will learn to understand and love the truly beautiful and come nearer to God. Tltis is such an enormous task that 1 decide to take it on myself only because with my entire being 1 feel that this is wliat God wants, that this is my real mission in life, and tliat for tltis 1 have been given what yoimg souls yearn for. Tltis is w hy my youthful and life-loving spirit endures in me even now. for this it has brought me though all sufiering and for tltis it has toughened and strengthened my faith in myself through God. .1 must approach this Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 110 task with an unextinguished flame, and it will die out if I do violence to what is holy in me. serving that which 1 do not believe in.* Just as the Dramatic Theater had provided a public forum for Chulkov and Meier khol’d’s proposed “Torches” theater, with its emphasis on Theater as Temple, the ideological orientation o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s school was closely linked to Valerii Briusov’s ideas concerning Theater as Academy in which “humanity learns to surpass itself.” In the past, the Dramatic Theater had also served as lecture hall, offering public pre-performance lectures for matinee student audiences.^" Kommissarzhevskaia’s School would allow her to apply those principles o f ethical and aesthetic self-education that she had encouraged within her theater establishments and in so doing, would equip the new generation of performers with the technical as well as spiritual tools she deemed necessary to become an Actor. (As discussed further in Chapter VTI, these concepts mirrored to a certain extent the Symbolists’ belief in self-creation as an art form). Like her theater undertakings, in this venture Kommissarzhevskaia also proved herself to be an activist, seeking to raise consciousness through direct rather than intuitive means. However, further events of the winter tour curtailed the plan’s finition. The young company members continued the Dramatic Theater tour through the south of Russia and eastward to the Russian Far East with apprehension about their * 3 O T K p b iB a io u iK O Jiy , HO 3T O H c 6 y f lc T T O Jib K o u i K o a a . 3 t o 6 y q e r m c c t o , r q e Jiio q H . M o jio q b ie qyiH H 6 y q y r yHHTbCH n o H K M a rb h J iio 6 H T b h c t h h h o n p e K p a c n o e h n p o x o q n r b k B o r y . 3 t o r a x a a orp o M H aH a a q a q a , h h p e u i a r o c b B 3JiT b H a c e 6 j i r o j ib K o n o T o w y , h t o b c c m c y iq e cT B O M n y B C T B y io , HTO a r o r o x o n e r B o r , h t o a r o m o h H a c T o a m a ii m h c c h b b x r i h h h u t o h jih a r o r o m h c a a n o t o , k q e w y TH H yrcH B c e r q a M o n o q u e q y u n t . JXnsi a T o r o c o x p a n e n b o m h c q o c h x n o p w o A q y x M o q o q b iM H X H 3 H ep aq o cT H b iM , q n H a T o r o n p o H e c m c h b C K B oab B ce HcobiTaH H B , q j N a T o r o a a x a ji H q h y K p e m u i BO MHC B c p y B c e G s n e p e a B o r a . J I q o q jK H a n p n A T H k h h m c H e n o r a c o iH M o r a e w , a o h n o r a c H C T , e c jiH H c q e n a i o n a c H J iH e n a q cB B T biM b c e 6 e , c n y s c a TOM y, b o « i t o h c B e p io . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. I l l future, yet Kommissarzhevskaia seems to have proceeded with a high sense o f convic tion in her new direction. “^You are sad that I’m leaving [the theater],” she stated in a 1910 Theater and Art {Teatr i iskusstvo) interview with Realist dramatist Sholom Ash. “ I must leave. I will soon return, and you will again believe me and my art. One can’t return to the past, but there is a happy and real future; now it is near. I will reach it or perish.”® The theater’s secretary, Aleksandr D’iakonov, logged the progress o f the final tour.® The tour led the Dramatic Theater company along a standard performance route from the Eastern European capitals Riga, Warsaw, and Vilnius south to Kiev and Odessa, then eastward through the large provincial towns o f Ekaterinoslav and Rostov- on-the-Don to Tblisi, the central Asian ancient capital Samarkand and, finally, Tashkent. Still convinced o f the potential of the new art and theater renovation, Kommissarzhevskaia nonetheless streamlined her tour repertory to Ostrovskii classics and lighter roles to suit provincial audiences, who were even less receptive than Moscow and St. Petersburg viewers to the novelty o f Ibsen and Maeterlinck. As concerns the defection o f theater audiences, in the end we ourselves are largely to blame,” the actress commented in an interview from November, 1909: the provincial director and the provincial actor are both in a state of spiritual confusion; they've rejected the old. but still haven't come to terms with the new... but at the same time I deeply believe tliat the ranks of the new public grows each day. the public of Maeterlinck. Ibsen, and Hamsun, a public that knows that out of today's chaotic tlieater will be bom new hannonious forms of tlteatrical interpretation.* *Hto Kacaercsi nepebexomuecTBa TeaxpaJibHOH nySjiHKH. to b KOHite KOHitos mw cawu mhophm B H H O B aTbi B TOM ...H iipoBHHitHaJibHbiir peiKHccep, H iipoBHHitHaJibHbtH aKxep ceAuac TOIKe B Aym eBHOM CM jrreHHH: o r npexuiero orcranH, k H O B O M y He tipHCTaJiH...HO a b to * e Bpewa rJiyfioKo Bepto B TO, <rro c KaxflbiM qHew pacryr pagbt hoboA nybJiiacH. nyôJiHKH MexepjiHMKa, Hbcena h raMcyna, nybJiHKir, sHaicmero, *rro h3 HbiHeiuHero TeaTpajibHoro cyMbypa poaaTCH noBbie rapMOHHHecfOie tpopMbi TeaTpajibHoA HHTepnpeTaitHH. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 112 Unfortunately, Kommissarzhevskaia would not live to see her conviction vindicated. More than half way through their tour, members o f the Dramatic Theater became ill after shopping at a bazaar in Samarkand. While nursing her failing companions, Kommissarzhevskaia contracted smallpox. In an inspiring expression of conviction and determination, the actress continued to perform, and provided Tashkent audiences with her final performance as the youthful Rosie IFight of the Butterflies) on 26 January 1910. Two weeks later, she painfully succumbed to the disease. All remaining Dramatic Theater troupe members survived, and accompanied the actress’s coffin back to St. Petersburg for final burial in the grounds o f the St. Alexander Nevsky Monastery. During her life Kommissarzhevskaia functioned as an intermediary for theater change, but her legacy would prove more far reaching than her lifetime accomplish ments. Within the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s three years of existence it managed to stretch the hither-to accepted limits of stage production and make a name for itself in theater history not because o f its successes (of which there were few, if any), but because of the challenge it mounted to routine and tradition. It allowed aspiring Russian stage theoreticians such as Nikolai Evreinov and Vsevolod Meierkhol’d to incorporate the achievements of European contemporaries Adolph Appia, Gordon Craig, and Max Reinhardt into their native Russian experience, and thus functioned as a forerunner to the development of critical performance theory these and other directors would examine in their own theaters and treatises. By tackling a literary style (Symbolism) that Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 3 presents extreme problems for staging, the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater questioned the very nature o f performance, acting training, as well as theater’s social purpose and function. The Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater also played a vital part in encouraging the work of young Russian artists and dramatists. Its constant quest and questioning encapsulated the turmoil o f the historical period, and its individual crisis mirrored the critical re-evaluation Russian theater in general was undergoing during the end o f the first decade of the century. Yet although the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s crisis ended in defeat, and Kommissarzhevskaia publically announced her retirement from acting, Russian scenic experimentation began a period of renewed vigor that would culminate soon after in the accomplishments of Meierkhol’d and Constructivist and Futurist theater. The idle gossip she had once heard, that Meierkhol’d would “step over the corpse of someone like Kommissarzhevskaia to serve his own petty vainglorious ends,” in some respects rang true.“ Historically speaking, Kommissarzhevskaia and her theaters served as a channel, a catalyst for change, though change would roll over and ultimately subsume both the person and the institution. She had found her acting style, but rather than presage the future it remained rooted in a past tradition. She also found personal fulfillment in the aesthetic sensibilities of Romantic idealism that valued personal expression and civil duty rather than in the wave o f the future unleashed by the experi ments in her theater. In many ways, the triumph of avant-garde theater was Kommissarzhevskaia’s personal tragedy. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 4 NOTES TO CHAPTER H 1. In this context, the Russian tt4da more accurately translates as “thither.” I have used the imperative “Onward!” to impart the force o f “thither” without the antiquated association o f the latter. (I would like to thank Inna Solov’eva for bringing this fictionalized biography to my attention). Kommissarzhevskaia performed in two o f Boborykin’s plays: Scum (Nakip ) (2 Dec 1899), and The Answer (F otvete) (9 Oct 1901). She also carried on a correspondence with the critic prior to his emigration. 2. An enthusiast o f naturalism, Boborykin felt that Kommissarzhevskaia’s Symbolist phrase was detrimental to the actress’s career and waste o f her talent. (Note the passage in “Onward! Onward!” where the writer admonishes the wayward actress, “You will destroy your magnificent gift!. .You must rid yourself of these wild experiments and perform your old repertoiy..and find yourself again. ...You have no right— you hear! You have no right to destroy the actress in you!”(Boborykin 19.13:61-62). Boborykin’s plays are superficial studies o f contemporary social and intellectual life. For later writers, “boborykat”’ (an infinitive formed from the critic’s last name) came to mean, “to write badly on topical issues ’ [see Victor Terras, Handbook of Russian Literature (New Haven: Yale, 1985) 57). The Soviet Teatral’naia entsiklopediia (v. 1) entry for Boborykin is more generous, and ignores this definition altogether]. 3. Schuler (1996) argues convincingly that femininity was a crucial factor in the marketing o f Russian actresses at the turn o f the century. A similar case has been made for European actresses by Corbett (1992); Davis (1986, 1991); Holledge (1981) and Spacks (1988). 4. In later letters the actress described the personal significance o f the role o f Nina Zarechnaia. At the time o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s first performances, audience members also saw a connection, as writer Ivan Shcheglov (Leont’ev) wrote: “After all, in the story o f the Seagull, Vera Fedorovna unwittingly told the story o f her own life” (Shcheglov in Karpov 19II: 384). 5. In Fedor Sologub’s novel. The Created Legend {Tvorimaia legendd) ( 1907-1913), legend is created when “life itself becomes art, a beauty manifest and immortal ” (Masing-Delic 1994:77). As mentioned in this chapter, Solugub’s Symbolist dramas were performed in Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater: the tragedy in three acts. The Victory of Death (Pobeda smerti) premiered 6 November 1907; “drama in 12 double pictures,” Vanka the Steward and Page Jean (Van 'ka KUuchnik i pazh Zhean) premiered 8 January 1909. Segel (1993:94-97) contains production synopses. 6. See Roach (1996) for a broader study o f the relationship between actors’ funerals and myth-making. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 5 7. A notice in Anna Liutsedarskaia’s carefully compiled memorial album, A Wreath for the grave o f the unforgettable Vera Fedorovna Komissarzhevskaia ( Vertok na grob nezabvennoi Very Fedorovny Komissarzhevskoi) mentions that the funeral procession could be seen “/la ekrane kinematogrqfag. M aksa.” (GTM 116.36). I have found no mention o f this news clip in any other sources. 8. U chitel’ , drug, istochnikdushevnykh sili vdokhnoveniia. " Kommissarzhevskaia inscribed these words on a photo that she gave to her father (recorded by Fedor Komisaijevsky in Karpov 1911: 173) A photo o f their father figures prominently in a 1902 “at home” portrait photograph o f the actress in Al'bom ( 19141. 9. In Spring, 1894, after finishing her first professional season with a Novocherkassk theater company, Vera traveled with her sister Olga to Tblisi to perform with the Tblisi Art Society. (Fedor Petrovich was a voice instructor with the Tblisi Music Society at the time). Critical response to Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting was positive. His daughter’s brief appearance on the stage o f the Art Society reportedly had convinced Fedor Petrovich that “c/oc/f ’ vem a tern principam iskusstva, kotorym on sam sluzhil vsiu svoiu zhizn ’ “ (Reported in Kavkaz (The Ccnicasus) 31 March 1894 (in Chronicle 44). 10. For a detailed, first-hand description o f this period in Kommissarzhevskaia’s professional career, see Gaideburov (1977). Nadia’s stage name was Nadezhda Skarskaia, and around the same time as Vera Kommissarzhevskaia was organizing her Dramatic Theaters (1903), Nadezhda and husband Gaideburov founded the Popular Theater (Obshchedostupnyi teatr) in the working class section of St. Petersburg. Largely in response to political developments, in 1905 they organized the First Traveling Dramatic Theater (Pervyi peredvizhnoi dramaticheskii teatr ). Despite a brief foray into Symbolist dramaturgy in its early years, the Traveling Theater remained in line with the principles of its namesake, the mid-19th-century Wanderer Movement, and brought stage productions o f a social nature to provincial locales throughout Russia. The Traveling Theater existed until 1928. 11. The summer theater group had been formed by the young amateur actress, Polina Struiskaia. Veniamin Kazanskii, the troupe’s administrator, had been an actor in Sinel’nikov’s Novocherkassk theater. The director, Aleksei Zvezdich, was not pleased at Kommissarzhevskaia’s presence in the troupe since she competed with his wife for ingénue comique roles. 12. “Iz pis’ma N.V. Turkinu” (25-28 July 1984) #6 Letters 39. 13. See the (to my knowledge) unpublished manuscript written by theater entrepreneur K.N. Nezlobin, “Recollections” {VospominanHa) GTM f. 186. Nezlobin, K.N. e.d. 173. (35 pages). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 116 14. '"N.V. Turkinu” (22 August 1894) #7 Letters 40. 15. Plays by Russian realist dramatists (Ostrovskii, Ignatii Potapenko, Boborykin, Modest Ilich Chaikovsky, and Aleksandr Sumbatov) figured prominently in Kommissarzhevskaia"s Alexandrine Theater repertory. According to Brianskii, Kommissarzhevskaia performed the role o f “Larisa” (The Dowervless Bridel the most (forty-six times), followed by “Rosie” (The Fight of the Butterflies) 17 times, “Varya” (A Child of Nature^ 11 times. (StPetersburg Public Library, fl06. EprmcKHH, A.M. e.d.75. MaTepHBJifci k HcropaH citeHHMecKoÈ flearejifcHocTH B .0 . KoMMnccapaceBCKoA (1930)). 16. Review by the conservative newspaper publisher and theater entrepreneur, Aleksei Suvorin (Novoe vremia. 25 November 1898. In Chronicle 105). In 1895 Suvorin offered Kommissarzhevskaia a position in his Literary-Art Society Theater. The actress declined due to a prior commitment (see #15 Letters 45). Suvorin"s account belied the transitional phase of emancipation at the time; even the "contemporary woman’ is expressed in codes for fem ininity. Biographical accounts that build analysis of Kommissarzhevskaia on reviews such as this and ignore the cultural impetus for its discourse only further obfuscate the historical personage, reducing her to a sign. 17. A. Kugel’, Teatr i iskusstvo No. 10 (1899) 210. In Chronicle 113. 18. lur’ev (1945; 297-372) countered the oft-repeated reason for the failure o f the play due to the inability o f the actors trained in the State theater system to understand the nuances of Chekhov’s play. He cited the depth of acting achieved by actors Mariia Ermolova (Moscow Maly Theater) and the Alexandrine’s own Vladimir Davydov, Konstantin Varlamov, and Kommissarzhevskaia. Critics generally agreed that the latter was alone in understanding the Chekhov play and able to perform convincingly. 19. See Schuler (1996:27) for brief discussion of the importance o f patrons for Russian actresses. For an in-depth study of theater "career women’ in Victorian England, see Davis (1991). 20. Reported in Khodotov (1932: 162) and elsewhere. Albeit tangential to the present discussion, it is possible that economic considerations fueled the Kommissarzhevskaia- Savina division. Theater directors capitalized on the attraction created by the actresses’ avowed rivalry, and newspaper caricatures kept this rivalry in the public eye. 21. Recorded in “Iz pis’ma F F Komissarzhevskomu” [1908] #267 Letters 175 and “S. Spiro.” “U V V. [sic] Komissarzhevskoi” Russkoe slovo (September 1909) 3 (16) No. 202: 4. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 7 22. “V.A. Teliakovskomu” (ca. 8 August 1902) #150 Letters 119. Kommissarzhevskaia’s letter o f resignation is located in RGIA, f.498, op.5, d. 1482, 1.39, and printed in Chronicle 191. 23. “K.S. Stanislavskomu” (26 June 1902) #144 Letters 116-7. The interest appears to have been mutual: in a letter from 1903, co-director Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko wrote that Kommissarzhevskaia’s presence in the Moscow Art theater “has been one o f my long-standing dreams ” (Nemirovich-Danchenko 1954:500). 24. “A.S. Suvorinu” (ca. 8 August 1902) #149 Letters 118-119. 25. The board o f the “Arcade” Dramatic Theater was comprised of Kommissarzhevskaia, half-brother Fedor Komisaijevsky, N.A. Popov, K. V. Bravich, N.D. Krasov as administrator. M.S. Zavoiko, a provincial land-owner, provided some early funding towards the enterprise, but did not take part in theater decisions. Komisaijevsky’s article in (Karpov 1911:154) contains a troupe list during the first season. In a letter to theater critic Nikolai Efros, Kommissarzhevskaia also discussed the organizational state o f her theater in early fall o f 1903 (“NÆ. Efrosu” (20 October 1903) #194 Letters 143-144). 26. “A.P. Chekhovu” (January 1903) #172 Letters 129-130. Kommissarzhevskaia expected to be able to premiere Chekhov’s new play because MAT (which had first performance rights) was not scheduled to be performing at that time (“N.E. Efrosu” (20 October 1903) #194 Letters 144). 27. Bravich wrote Stanislavsky in May 1904, requesting the director’s help in organizing the Dramatic Theater’s repertory (Moscow Art Theater Museum archives, No.4875. In Letters 381). In correspondence from later that summer, Stanislavsky expressed concern that a shared repertory would inhibit the impact of MAT productions when on tour in St. Petersburg (Stanislavsky SS 1960:7,298-303). 28. See her letter to Popov (July 1904) #213 Letters 150-151. 29. Upon Gorkii’s arrest after the events of January, 1905, state censorship struck Summer Folk from the Dramatic Theater’s repertory. The play was allowed a year later. The state authorities also tried to stop production o f Children of the Sun but the play was eventually staged in fall, 1905. Kommissarzhevskaia lobbied for several other plays that were also not allowed by State censorship, among them: Chirikov’s The Peasants (M itzhiki) and Hauptmann’s Die Weber. The theater incurred losses when plays were struck after they had already gone into production (The Peasants. Summer Folk, et al ). 30. See caricaturist Aleksandr Liubimov’s version o f the event in (Etkind 1971:21) Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 8 31. In a statement subsequently published in Petersburg Newspaper, the student audience at the 1904-05 final season performance addressed Kommissarzhevskaia as a “fighter for the enlightenment o f the Russian people” (in Chronicle 284). 32. By ruling of the authorities, “Canceled due to V F Kommissarzhevskaia's illness” was written on the theater playbill in order to detract from the real reason for the play’s closing. Gorkii was arrested on 11 January and imprisoned in the St. Peter-Paul Fortress, where he wrote Children o f the Sun. He was released in mid-February, arrested the next day, and exiled with his wife, the actress Maria Andreeva, to Riga. According to Andreeva, in the summer o f 1904 Kommissarzhevskaia, Gorkii, K. Nezlovin and entrepreneur S. Morozov were planning a joint theatrical endeavor. The events of 1905 (Gorky’s imprisonment and Morozov’s suicide) curtailed this operation. There was also talk o f Andreeva Joining the Dramatic Theater. See Andreeva (1968: 80, 612^ passim). 33. In a review highlighting the inadequacy o f plays by young dramatists, lurii Beliaev made light of the hastily staged production o f Aleksandr Kosorotov’s Spring Flood (Veseniipoiok) (staged by A.P. Petrovskij at the Dramatic Theater 27 December 1904), discrediting the piece as an “interesting colorful play in which the author-writer contends with the author-publicist, and the author-dramatist gets the worst end o f the stick.” 34. Volynskii’s speech was published in Teatral’naia Rossiia. no. 12 (19 March 1905), and is partially included in (Karpov 1911:173-75): "flbsen's The Master Builderl will break the prose of theatrics in which [the Dramatic Tlieaterj has been working lately. If the dramatic works of the former type can be called artistic-realistic, then works in the spirit and style of The Master Builder must be called artistic-ideological. So the actor has a new task before liim... In Ibsen's work there is... no corporeality, almost no psycholog) in tlie usual sense of the word. Only spiritualiri. If before now the actor could and had to give himself up to psycho-physiological reflexes when performing a role, then now he must search for gestures and mime to symbolize Ibsen's basic ideas: he must suggest these ideas, and raise the public to understanding. No routine, no declamation: all this would be false in relation to Ibsen! Witli Ibsen the actor must experiment together with the writer, to look ahead and. as it were, guess the psycho-physiological life of the hiturc generation that will bring into being the ideology of the new historical epoch: an ideolog which will then become tlie flesh and blood of the New Person....What a great task for the contemporary actor! He must help give birth to the New PersoiL to cry out for him. create his gestures, bring his demeanor to life, to guess the future and illuminate the future with his own enthusiasm. ’ 35. (K. Chukovskii), Teatral’naia Rossiia/Teatral’naia gazeta. No. 15, 1905: 260-261. In Chronicle 283. Chukovsky reportedly was the first to identify the inability to compromise {heskompromissnost ’ ) as characteristic o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s heroines as well as the actress herself. In this regard, see also Letters 4, 23. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 9 36. “V.E. Meierkhol’d- F.F. Komissarzhevskomu” (10 July 1907) (Meierkhol’d 1976: 100-102). In his letter, Meierkhol’d defended Nikolai Sudeikin’s scenic resolutions for Sister Beatrice against Fedor Komisaijevsky’s objections. 37. Kommissarzhevskaia had been deliberating a change in direction already in early January 1904, when she requested that theater critic Nikolai Efros talk with Stanislavsky about Meierkhol’d’s potential as a director for her theater (“N.E. Efrosu” (January 1904?) #204 Letters 148). 38. The Saturdays were held over a period o f three weeks (14 October, 21 October, 28 October) prior to the season’s opening. D’iakonov in Rudnitskii (1965: 82-3) provides an account of these gatherings. lurgis Balrushaitis’ description of Sologub reading his “The Gift of Wise Bees” (mistakenly referred to as “The Victory of Death” in the text) is quoted in “V.F. Komissarzhevskaia,” Ezhegodnik (1979: 134-138). References can also be found in Rudnitskii (1985); Mikhail Kuzmin in Karpov (1911:220-223), Chronicle, and Letters, passim. 39. Blok read “The King on the Square” at the first “Saturday,” 14 October 1906. After the reading, Meierkhol’d wrote to Blok concerning his intention to mount the piece in the Dramatic Theater. See “A.A. Bloku”( Meierkhol’d 1976: 76-79). Apparently the play did not pass censorship, and was never mounted. Meierkhol’d also suggested staging a play in verse by Ivanov’s wife, Lidiia Zinovieva-Annibal, that had also been published (in part) in The Torches. Kommissarzhevskaia was enthusiastic about the piece, but it was never staged. (See "V.E. Meierkhol’d-F.F. Komissarzhevskomu” (17 July 1907) (Meierkhol’d 1976; 103- 4; “V.F. Kommissarzhevskaia-V.E. Meierkhol’du” (July 1907) Letters #247 (164-165). 40. " H 6 c e H H e 6 b u i n o i w T n n H n o K paftn eM w e p e n e 6 b u i B o iD io m e n h h xyaojicH H K O M . H aiD fcaB inH M q e K o p a m n o y a H B ir r e J i b H o K p a c H B y io , h o H e H M e m m y io H H M ero o 6 u i e r o c liô c e H O M ; HH p e x c H c c e p o M . aarpyA H H B U iH M aBHHceHHH a f c r e p o e a e p e B H H H o ü n Jia cT H K o i) h y iK o A c n e H o ft; HH caM H M H a ic r e p a M H , K o r o p b i e H e h o h j ij i h . * i t o eAHHCTBeHHasi r p a r e f lH H F e a f lb i— o T c y rc T B H e T p a r e g H H " (Aleksandr Blok, in Chronicle 3 3 8 ) ; " H a s t o h q p a w b i r . M e f l e p x o j i b a , n j i e r a c b a a r . C a n y H O B b iM . c o a n a r i p a n M a jio H K r e p e c H b ix a e K o p a T H B H b ix x a p T H H H r p y i m , h b o h m h a r o r o o h h n o n a e p r j i H f e n p H x a H ô c e n a HCTHHHOMy H a a p y ra T e J ib C T a y , n o n y T H o n p H H e c x b a c e p r a y c b o h m a e x o p a T H B H b iM n p e re H a H H M h O jia r o p o g H b iH T a j i a n r t - j k h K o M H c c a p x c e a c K o if... He o c r a n o c b h c ji e q a o t T o r o c x p b i T o M a q e B a T e n b c r a a h n a a M em aH HHH OM , H H afl e r o a H T H n o q o M . m h h m h im a p n c r o x p a T o M a y x a " (Anatolii Lunacharskii (1906) in Chronicle 338-339). Nikolai Sapunov described the set as the “harmony o f faded pale blue colors” and Hedda as the “pale blue figure o f a woman against a pale blue room” (“N.N. Sapunov-V E.Meierkhol’du” (16 November 1906) #79) (Meierkhol’d 1976: 70). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 120 4L Anatolii Liadov composed three choral works for the play, and Sergei Sudeikin created sets and backdrops reminiscent o f Botticelli and Giotto paintings. (See Valentina Verigina’s account in Letters: 258-273, later published in Verigina (1974). See also Rudnitskii (1969). 42. The role o f the Artist as divine messenger was not new in the Russian cultural imagination, and the Symbolists capitalized on this by promoting the concept of the Poet-Theurg. Ivanov and his circle popularized the concept o f Theater as Temple. Alexandr Zonov, a close associate o f Kommissarzhevskaia, used the metaphor of spectacle as religious rite in his article concerning the reception o f Sister Beatrice in Teatr i zhizn’ (491 1906. Russian cultural religious values obscured the line between artistic construct and spiritual act. Representation of a Biblical image was not allowed on a theater stage, and the Orthodox Church censored the statue o f the Virgin called for in the original Maeterlinck text of Sister Beatrice. In Meierkhol’d’s production, the statue was replaced on stage by a veiled empty niche, signifying its presence by its absence. Continued church censorship o f subsequent productions had dire financial repercussions for the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater. 43. By 1906-07 Briusov had broken with his earlier dramatic theories, finding fault both with realism and the “semi-realism” o f stylized theater and advocated the supremacy of the dramatic text in scenic production. Senelick (1981) contains a translation o f Briusov’s later text on theatrical production, “Realism and Convention on the Stage.” 44. “V ia. Briusovu” (8 November 1907) #250 Letters 166-167. During this time Meierkhol’d was already making plans for his own theater. See letters from Nikolai Ulianov and Petr larstev to Meierkhol’d written during the fall o f 1907 in Meierkhol’d (1976). 45. “Our group will create such a nook where the cultured Petersburg viewer will find relaxation.” See “V.E. Meierkhol’d-L. la. Gurevich” (12 December 1908) #157 (Meierkhol’d 1976) 122-123. 46. Rudnitskii (1978:137-210) presents the view that the nucleus o f Meierkhol’d’s later scenic resolutions took shape during his tenure at the Dramatic Theater. This article in particular contains excellent summaries o f the plays produced by Meierkhol’d at the Dramatic Theater, with reference to Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting failures in some of these productions. Rudnitskii contends that the disagreement between directrisse and director was fanned by Fedor Komisaijevsky’s rivalry with Meierkhol’d and the actress’s unwillingness to acquiesce her star status. Accordingly, Meierkhol’d’s dismissal left a void in the Dramatic Theater and the actress’s own creative explorations that would never be filled. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 121 Stanislavsky, to whom Kommissarzhevskaia had appealed to serve as witness in her lawsuit, was more supportive than Briusov in the actress’s case against Meierkhol’d. 47. GTM 116.55 LIO. The New York Lincoln Center. Billy Rose Theater Collection contains an English-language publicity post card o f a stylishly-attired Kommissarzhevskaia. This type o f advertising image capitalized on the American theater audience’s interest in externalities such as wardrobe and social status: a case in point is an article in Evening Variety that offered no information on the actress’s acting or schedule but heralded the “Russian Actress a Countess; has no fads, she says” and “Never wears jewels, although she has a necklace the Czar gave her” “It’s worth $150,000.” An unidentified American newspaper cartoon shows the actress in a scene from A Doll’s House with the caption, “The most remarkable thing about her, aside from the fact that she is a real Russian countess and has money with which to finance her tour if necessary, is her name. ” (See Harvard University Theater Collection. Box 14/12. Clippings, Komissarzhevskaya, Vera.) Kommissarzhevskaia’s critique o f her American hosts was equally unflattering: the actress faulted American audiences for their complete lack of artistic sophistication (“Russian Actress Calls Us Artless.” New York Times (24 April 1908». 48. From a Daly’s Theater advertising brochure, March 1908 (GTM 116.55). 49. Senelick (1992:1-15) briefly compares Kommissarzhevskaia’s American tour with Nazimova’s in the chapter “The American Tour of Orlenev and Nazimova, 1905- 1906.” 50. Kommissarzhevskaia invited Nikolai Evreinov to be the Dramatic Theater’s primary director (with support from Fedor Komisaijevsky and Arkadii Zonov) during the 1908-09 season. Evreinov had already gained stature for his work with stylized production in the Ancient Theater. Whereas Meierkhol’d emphasized the literary nature o f theater, Evreinov fixed theatricality {teatral 'nost ’ ) as the basis o f art. As it had for Meierkhol’d, work at the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater also provided Evreinov the opportunity to work out ideas that he would later codify into a performance aesthetic. For Evreinov, the core of theater— theatricality— was more fundamental and basic to human expression that intellectual aesthetics. Realism and Symbolism were false systems because they tried to do the impossible: replicate nature or physically portray symbolic images. He argued for “scenic realism” (stsenicheskii realizm) that was really the elevation of fantasy: “realism” indicating only the recognition that fantasy is the true beginning o f art. He applied this theory to his production o f Francesca da Rimini. Salome, and Sologub’s Vanka the Steward and Jean the Page. Fedor Komisaijevslqr, who was more interested in issues o f scenic resolution of actor, set, and costume, staged Queen of the M ay, Leonid Andreev’s Black Masks, and jointly with Aleksandr Benois, Grillparzer’s Die Ahnfrau. Evreinov and Fedor Komisaijevsky subsequently Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 122 joined forces as directors o f the Merry Theater for Grown-Up Children (Veselyi teatr dlia pozhilykh detei). See Camicke (1989), Golub (1984). 51. “Not Politics, Only Drama” “Russia’s foremost actress won’t talk about the situation at home but is most communicative about her ideas on the drama.” New York Times (I March 1908) 10. 52. Kommissarzhevskaia planned to stage the Russian premiere in Moscow the summer after her return from the 1908 America tour. However, Briusov and his co-translator, Viacheslav Ivanov, published the text prior to her return from America. Once published, any theater had a right to first staging. The Moscow Maly Theater took up. the challenge. This act deprived Kommissarzhevskaia o f performance rights (using the Briusov-Ivanov translation) in Moscow. 53. (N. Tamarin) Teatr i iskusstvo ( 1908) n.41: 704 (in Chronicle 4 18). 54. Sarah Bernhardt premiered the Wilde piece in Paris in 1896, but the play was mounted for the first time in England in 1905. The Russian version was vaguely based on the Wilde play. Rumors about the lavish Dramatic Theater production and the involvement of exotic Russian Seasons dance legend Ida Rubenshtein had already circulated, resulting in a sell-out o f the first four performances well before the premiere. To discredit any insinuation of secreti veness, Kommissarzhevskaia invited to the dress rehearsal over 100 guests, including city officials, government representatives, her associates Andreev, Blok, and leading costume designer Aleksandr Benois (with whom set artist Kalmakov consulted), among others. The Dramatic Theater production text passed literary censorship but, although Dramatic Theater secretary D’iakonov (Rudnitskii 1965:105-106) would later aver that in the production “there was no pornography, despite some rather bold costumes, there was no insult to religious beliefs,” higher level State officials reversed the earlier decision and banned the production hours before curtain. The clash of art with conservative religious tradition was the reason behind the play’s final censorship. Although the government drama censorship board had allowed the play to go forth, higher level State officials (undoubtedly under the pressure of Church officials) subsequently banned the play on the grounds that it portrayed Biblical figures on stage (GFIA, f. 102, 4 d-vo, 1908, d.6l,ch.9,1.54-56). According to a mention in Theater and Art (Teatr i iskusstvo). Bishop Innokentii, on behalf of the Holy Synod, later rejected a petition to allow the play to be performed (1908, no. 44, p. 763: in Chronicle 42IV For Kommissarzhevskaia’s formal response, see Vdovin (1970). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 123 56. ‘'N.K.” [Nikolai Kalmakov?] in Teatr-Iskusstvo-Ekran (1925). 57. F. Komisaijevsl^ directed the Dramatic Theater’s production of Judith (premiere 10 September 1909). The citation is from Russkie vedomosti (16 September 1909) (in Chronicle 455). 58. LGTM Kn.15940, om. 16258. Karpov (1911:320-321) includes a facsimile; Letters 177, a typeset version. In a letter to Alexei Remizov, Zonov mentions that, given the state o f the Dramatic Theater, “you can’t not agree with her decision.” 59. See Kommissarzhevskaia’s letter to D’iakonov in Rudnitskii (1965, letter #51), in which she discusses D’iakonov’s possible role as director o f her school. Also included is part o f Baltrushaitis’ letter to D’iakonov regarding the school (Rudnitskii 1965:293). GPB f.634 contains several letters from Zonov to Remizov written during the late 1909-early 1910 tour in which he mentions Kommissarzhevskaia and her decision to start a school. 60. Only two years prior, faced with the inevitability of losing his position in Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater, Meierkhol’d had also considered creating a school as part of a theater venture with N. Ul’ianov and P. lartsev. See their letter to Meierkhol’d, “V.E. Meierkhol’du " (end October 1907) #125 (Meierkhol’d 1976:107). 61. "O F Komissarzhevskoi” (end 1909- early 1910) #274 Letters 177-178. Kommissarzhevskaia apparently wrote this letter to her sister Ol ga by way of explanation for the theater resignation statement that accompanied it. See Ol ga Komissarzhevskaia, “Vera Fedorovna o svoent otrechenii,” Alkonost 118. 62. The lectures were given during October and November 1909 on Sunday mornings prior to the matinee performance. Blok spoke on Ibsen prior to the 2 November performance of The Master Builder and Komei Chukovskii lectured about Leonid Andreev prior to the 12 October production of Life of A Man. Matinee audiences consisted primarily of students. 63. Interview Teatr i iskusstvo no. 7 (1910) 155, in Chronicle 428. Kommissarzhevskaia prefaced her statement thus: “Believe me, 1 am still young. The trials o f the past two years have given me strength, and 1 am beginning to understand where and how I need to search out beauty.” 64. See D’iakonov “Poslednyi put’ (Vospominaniia o poezdke 1909-1910 g),’’ in Karpov (1911:277-371). Written in the form o f diary entries, theater secretary D’iakonov’s article chronicled Kommissarzhevskaia’s final tour and last days. 65. Interview with N. Inber, Odesskie novosti (Odessa News) (4 November 1909), in Chronicle (469-473: 472). ' Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 124 66. One o f the Dramatic Theater actors was overheard to say: “Meierkhol’d is a scoundrel, but I predict that he’ll attain his own vainglorious aspirations over the dead body of someone like Kommissarzhevskaia” {On negodiai, no ia prorochn Vam, chto k svoim melkim tshcheslavnym tseliam on proidet cherez tn ip takogo cheloveka, kak Kommissarzhevskaia). Apparently Bravich related this bit o f backstage gossip to Kommissarzhevskaia (Letters 169). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 5 Life begins where the search for truth begins; it ends where life is transformed. -John Ruskin EQ. Actress as W riter In Between the Acts. Virginia W oolfs novel that dramatizes the consanguinity between artistic and social role creation, even nannies craft their conversation like actors in a play: “ a s they trundled they were talking— not shaping pellets o f inform ation or handing ideasfrom one to another, but rolling words, like sweets on their tongues'^ Illustrative o f Jacobson’s delineation of the poetic function, in the nannies’ speech acts the manipulation o f language takes primacy over the act o f information transmission. The language o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s private letters as a whole reflects this lyric quality: in content and form, instances of explication o f emotional state and psychological experiencing outnumber formulaic pleasantries, gossip, and everyday details. Many o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters have been published in anthologies (e.g.. Letters 1964; Rudnitskii 1965). Unlike the direct, matter-of-fact epistolary style o f acting contemporaries Maria Ermolova or Maria Andreeva, Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary prose style can be distinguished by a linguistic creativity with the poetic canon. Indeed, in the actress’s personal letters, form seems to vie with content for the reader’s attention: when a narrative of events is recorded, it functions as the catalyst for emotional response. Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary style in general replicates the quality of “intimate conversation ” traditionally associated with the genre o f personal Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 126 letters by their spontaneous tone and content, in which transmission of emotional experience is emphasized; to a large extent, their form is couched in the lyric manner representative o f the Silver Age’s predominant literary genre. The fundamental stylistic characteristic o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s private letters is a poetic use of language, and their organizing principle is the transmission of subjective, psychological aspects of experience. Epistolary writing has much in common with autobiography, and thus likewise elicits the questioning o f “truthfulness” concerning self-representation: to what extent does this type o f writing really represent the personality o f the writer, and to what extent is epistolary language influenced by meta-literary (e.g., cultural) concerns? It has been suggested that letter-writing requires a degree o f artistic selection and combination similar to the creation of any artistic work, and that, in a body o f letters, the writer creates an image o f the self as “hero” Just as a fiction writer might create the identity o f the main protagonist in a novel or short story.' As discussed in Chapter I, scholarship on epistolary prose, such as Todd’s (1976) study of the 19"'-century Arzamas poets, develops the topic o f epistolary prose along the lines of post-modern deconstruction theory as conjectured in Paul de Man’s argument for the defacement of the self in an autobiographical text:" the basic trait o f letters that circulated among the Arzamas is their “illusory” nature in the sense that these letters purport to present the “real” identity of the writer (barkening to the definition of the private letter as a “conversation of the soul”), while elements in the very writing reveal the artifice o f the medium. Thus, the contradiction of intent (“conversation of the soul”) vs. artistic construct (i.e., the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 7 written text) results as the “illusion o f spontaneity,” the “illusion o f talking on paper,” the “illusion o f intimacy,” etc., where “spontaneity,” “conversation”, and “intimacy” are significant cultural attributes for the social class and climate to which the Arzamas poets belonged.^ The Arzamas poets strove to give their letters the effervescent liveliness o f the salon bon mot, and their epistolary texts were sculpted to achieve the desired effect o f impromptu wit and virtuosity prized by their social milieu. Similarly, (Spacks 1988), (Corbett 1992), and (Postlewait 1989) located in the letters o f non-professional eighteenth and nineteenth-century women defection of personality imposed by societal values of the milieu in which they lived or to which they aspired. Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary self-representation was likewise influenced by markers o f her society but, as I argue in Chapter II, her voices’ can be reduced to contradictory but equally vital impulses of the fem ininity and the New Woman. The ideology of the early l9“'-century Russian salon was a motivating force behind the epistolary language of the Arzamas (Todd), and cultural values stressing modesty and gentility served this purpose for upper-class women during the Enlightenment (Spacks). Kommissarzhevskaia’s influences were the tum-of-the-twentieth-century preoccupation with Platonic concepts o f Beauty, Truth, and the Symbolist elevation o f subjectivity over objectivity. Yet the philosophical and expressive tendencies listed above represent only part of the contradictory impulses affecting Russian intellectual life during the early years o f the twentieth century, when the “feeling o f being on the brink o f great changes domi nated [the period] and was responsible for the peculiar combination o f anxiety, exulta Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 128 tion, for the Juxtaposition, often within the same individual, o f Promethean individual ism and a desperate search for community” (Rosenthal 1975:80). Sarab’ianov (1993) suggests that tum-of-the-century visual arts became ruled by an “Apologia of Subjectivism,” as emphasis moved away from the narrative and description (Realism) toward personal interpretation (Symbolism). This subjectivity, in turn, was expressed in dissimilar ways. For example, Briusov, Beiii, members o f the World o f Art group, among others, harmonized extreme subjectivity with the general tendency towards life creation, in which members o f the artistic elite crafted their private and professional lives so as to diminish the distinction between public and private, art and the prosaic. In fact, we can easily apply Todd’s distinction o f the “illusion o f intimacy” as a genre characteristic to many of Briusov’s private letters: not only were the poet’s “intimate” letters carefully drafted in well-maintained notebooks, but, as Gasparov (1991) illus trates, Briusov maintained his public image even in these purportedly private writings. (The significance o f this fact to the epistolary relationship between Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov is examined in Chapter IV). Conversely, although certainly ascribing to many aspects of Symbolist doctrine, references in her personal letters suggest that Kommissarzhevskaia differed in her interpretation o f the concept o f subjectivity. The discourse o f Symbolism— an artistic order and world view that privileged nuance over clarity, congruity over mimesis, and emotions over logic— is apparent in many of Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters and gained prominence in certain of her correspondences after 1903. The actress’s identity with Symbolist roles, from her 1896 premiere as Chekhov’s Nina Zarechnaia to the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 9 Maeterlinck: roles she would perform after leaving the Alexandrine, also helped to influence her choices of language and images. As she wrote in a letter to the critic Nikolai Efros while on tour during Spring, 1903: Don’t look for a meaning to these words and my mood~you won’t find it. Moreover, it’s hardly importanL as the fact is never important: the atmosphere it creates is important This alone is necessary, this alone has worth, this alone can destroy, engender, and resurrect the soul." ("N.E. Efrosu” #183 Letters 137-8) In the passage, the writer directly privileges mood and suggestion over logical reason ing and direct equivalence o f word and meaning. Yet this approach, based on the emotion response to phenomena suggested by Symbolist thought, was only part o f the actress’s aesthetic platform. Especially for the Symbolist poets, emphasis on subjectivity resulted in the conscious stylization of behavior, i.e., the life creation phenomenon. Kommis sarzhevskaia’s brand of Symbolism, however, was less experientially focused, as it was tempered by the interpretation o f Platonic ethics and the social model established by John Ruskin. Although less widespread in Russia than in his native England, Ruskin and his combination of Victorian morality and Christian idealism seem to have had a following especially among the artistic generation represented by Vera Fedorovna’s father, Fedor Petrovich Kommissarzhevsky; the actress mentions Ruskin in letters from 1900, around the time Russian readers could find translations o f the philosopher’s tracts in The World of Art journal.* As was discussed in Chapter II, in addition to their * He mnirre pasragXH 3TH X cjiob, 3Toro nacrpoemm Moero— Bbi ee ne Haugere, ga 3To h He BaxcHO, KaK Bcerga ne Baxen (paicr, Baxna aTMoccpepa. Koropyio oh coager, TojibKo oHa h Hyaena, TOiibKo ona H neHHa, TOJibKo ona Moacer y6biBaTb, poacgarb, BocKpemarb gymy. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 0 mutual dedication to performance arts, father and daughter shared a philosophical bond that seems to have been influenced by the blend of aesthetics and civil duty, couched within traditional Christian values, as promoted by the English thinker among Kommissarzhevskaia’s gifts to her father was a volume o f Ruskin, mentioned in a letter from 1901. Allusions to Ruskin can be found especially in Kommissarzhevskaia’s corre spondence from the early years o f the century. In some o f these letters, quotations from Ruskin serve a unifying function due to their prominent placement as epigram or concluding statement. Passages indicate that, perhaps due to her early success on the provincial stage and acknowledgment as scion of a well-known performer, Kommissarzhevskaia asserted her equality with established professionals even before her own career escalated. In a letter from May 1900, Kommissarzhevskaia introduces a quotation from Ruskin to support her admonishment o f Evtikhii Karpov in his direc torial work at the Alexandrine: “...no less than an actor you must progress or com pletely fall into routine:”* where the negative pronouncement of the final phrase ‘fall into routine’ {soidete na m tinerstvo) is enforced by its semantic similarity with the colloquial ‘come to nothing’ {soiti na net). To emphasize her point that the “good actor” combines moral and technical integrity, she ends her letter with a quote from Ruskin: “the best works of art are created by good people” (#8 Letters 77-78). Ruskinian philosophy was particularly significant for Kommissarzhevskaia’s relationship Bbi He MeHbuie, h c m a x T e p , ao JO K H b i n p o r p e c c H p o B a n > h j i h c o b c c m c o H q e r e na pyTHHepcTBO Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 131 with Khodotov, in which the older actress also functioned as acting instructor and moral guide. A letter to Khodotov from March 1901 begins with a quotation from Ruskin that alludes to the individual's duty to strive for beauty. Then, in her characteristically vague, meandering style, the actress attempted to explain that the key to self command lies in spiritual purity and commitment: My Azra [one o f her p et names fo r K.hodotov-klm\, ray dear, for God's sake. leam quickly not to let go...of tlie tlireads that are suddenly appearing in your soul— let them grow. You can be weak, but you must separate out tlie piece of your soul that ...will make you strong. From this nook there are threads that stretch to the heavens. They make you receptive to all that is beautiful (you remember. Ruskin says that he wants to infuse his pupils witli mercy, sincerity , and grace througliout tlieir lives: this will help to distinguish trutli from falsehood, reality from illusion, and beauty from dec^). These things will give you the strength to hold on to tliese tlireads in order to give them strengtli and growth, and the power tliat tliey give you must become your flesh and blood, and your spiritual soul.' (#116 Letters 104-105) Similar references borrow from Ruskin’s emphasis on Christian values o f charity and humility, dedication to good deeds, following the path of righteousness and, above all, the cultivation o f a beautiful soul. Both form and content in Kommissarzhevskaia's letters to friends and intimates from this time are influenced by Ruskinian-derived Platonic notions of a knowable beauty and truth, and sincerity as a means to embody these values. During her Alexandrine period, Kommissarzhevskaia was especially interested in Ruskin's 1871 treatise on the roles o f men and women in society. Sesame *Moft Aspa, M H iibiH , BorapagH, Haywrecb cKopee ne BbinycKaTb h3 pyx. He gaaaTb oripbiaaTb Tex HHT6H, KOTopbie BflpjfT HBJMK1TCB B gyuie V Bac— nycTb O H H pacryr. Bbi Moacere 6birb cnaSbtM, H O Bbi aojDKHbt oTfleJTHTb KycoK oyuiH. KacaHCb KOToporo Bbi B O Bcsncyio MHHyry BameA x c h s h h M OJKexe cqeJiaTbCH cmibHbiM. Ha aroro yrojixa THHyrcJi h h t h , THHyrcJi k ne6y. gejiaioT Bac uyxKHM Ko Bcewy npexpacHOMy (noMHHTe. P c c k h h roBopnr, nro o h b yieHHxax c b o h x x o h c t paasHTb MHnocepgHe, HcxpeHHocTb h HaamecTBo b reueHHe b c c h h x ik h 3 H h , aro h o m o j k c t orjiHHHTb npaaqy OT JD K H , fleAcTBHTejibHocrb OT npnapaxa h xpacory o r t j i c h h j i ) , gaayr Baiw CHJiy. UToribi yqepxraTb aTH H H T H , <rro6bi gaxb h m xpenocTb h poor, cHJia, gaHHan hm m Baw. AOJixcna craTb luioTbio nnoTH Baineu h gyxow ayxa Baiuero. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 2 and Lily. However, it is possible that Ruskin’s delineation o f character and social responsibility along gender lines (i.e., female-home/male-community) in works such as this lessened the philosopher’s appeal as the actress herself began to challenge these traditional roles after 1904, when she embarked on a career as theater entrepreneur. After this time, in the actress’s letters there are few. if any, direct citations from Ruskin. However, themes reminiscent of Ruskin’s insistence on the power and duty o f the individual to contribute to the social welfare, and especially the philosopher’s high estimation o f virtues o f truth and sincerity are consistently maintained in Kommissarzhevskaia’s correspondence throughout the rest o f her life; the case might even be made that the actress viewed Symbolism through the prism o f Ruskin. Ruskin ian ideals were also reflected in her professional goals: she writes about the performer’s need for emotional (not just intellectual) contact with her audience and freedom of self revelation and expression; elevation of subjectivity over objectivity and emotion over logic; the evocation o f Beauty, and the striving for Truth as a means to transform society. Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary style is replete with lyricism and reflects the Ruskinian and pre-Raphaelite preoccupation with turning inward to find inspiration and a model o f reality based on personal experiencing. We can compare the carefully crafted intimate’ letters o f Briusov to the stylized epistolary products o f Symbolist colleagues such as Alexei Remizov. The polished eflFect of Remizov’s meticulously calligraphed personal letters that resemble Old Russian script shares with stylized theater the emphasis o f formal elements over content. The visual effect of Kommissarzhevskaia’s handwriting, especially in letters to personal Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 133 jQiends and close colleagues, suggests a ‘natural’ rather than contrived orientation, comparable to subsequent Futurist experiments in page layout and design in terms of dynamism and expressiveness/ Karpov (1911) was the first collaborative memorial volume dedicated to Kommissarzhevskaia’s life and work, and its editors used the actress’s handwriting as an attribute of personality . In the collection, a double-page frontispiece autograph page o f handwritten passages from the actress’s letters was included, but no first person narratives (e.g., letters). Thus, in this volume Kommissarzhevskaia’s public life was represented by memoir entries, publicity photos, and set and costume illustrations, and the handwriting sampler served an autobiographi cal function. As archival originals indicate, Kommissarzhevskaia’s business letters were written in a clean, neat hand, and unlike her private letters, these are usually dated.® However, the graphic format of her letters to friends and colleagues belies unconcern for the visual effect o f the written text, a disregard for the integrity of the page and, in the case of her disorderly handwriting, a disregard for the reader in the sense that relaying the message took priority over careful presentation. One suspects that the ac tress’s lack o f systematic academic schooling might be in part responsible for her haphazard handwriting; Rybakova (private conversation) maintains that chronic ill health influenced the actress’s penmanship. Kommissarzhevskaia openly acknowledged her self-styled “scrawls” (karahily) but did little to clarify them in letters to friends. “How much more I can still tell you,” she wrote to Turkin in 1894, “and how verbose and vague this all turns out to be on the page, and how it thus oppresses and paralyzes Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 4 the thought that my scrawls will say nothing to your soul” .(#3 Letters 36). Sofia Smimova-Sazonova closely followed Kommissarzhevskaia’s career prior to the creation of the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater, and noted in a diary entry that she had received a note “written in an unfamiliar handwriting, with intricate strokes instead o f a signature;” only by its content was she able to guess the writer’s identity.’ Archives also contain examples o f the actress’s letters in which the signature initials “VK” merge to form an artistic emblem rather than a discrete inscription. Kommissarzhevskaia’s arbitrary choice o f writing materials also suggests a disregard for the fashioning o f a public image; their random nature reinforces the spon taneous immediacy of her literary style. A counter example is the French paragon o f fin- de-siècle self-stylization, Sarah Bernhardt, who realized the potential o f the epistolary page for self representation by designing personal stationery for herself, embossed with her own logo, “Quand même.”* Bernhardt regarded her written expression as an aspect o f her Gesamtkimstwerk and used her letters to admirers and supporters as a means to mold her public image. Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters were written on a variety of paper surfaces: unlined, lined, and checked paper with different (mostly English) watermarks; heavy card-stock note paper, decorated holiday cards. The lack o f personal stationery for a woman o f Komissarzhevskaia’s class seems peculiarly idiosyncratic, especially since the actress was at the time known for her writing élan. Moreover, she had in fact personally commissioned Dramatic Theater stationery with the theater logo, designed by Konstantin Somov: a lacertine motif o f a mask surrounded by intertwining rose vines, imprinted in sapphire blue at the top o f each sheet. The results o f my Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 135 archival research revealed that Kommissarzhevskaia did not use theater stationery even for letters in which she discussed matters of primary concern to the functioning o f her theater (although others connected with the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater, such as Arkadii Zonov, used the Somov letterhead even for personal letters)/ The actress directly composed her private letters with whichever writing materials were available; even resorting to the less-acceptable medium of pencil, for which she apologized in her letters. The element o f spontaneity that the diversity o f her epistolary surfaces suggests is also seen in her manner o f textual self-editing. There is no indication that Kommissarzhevskaia drafted her letters in advance, as did Briusov; and none o f the memoir literature indicates that the actress kept a writing journal. Rather than neatly erase or cross-out words or individual alphabet letters, the actress corrected her penmanship by rewriting directly on top of letters and words. The way in which the actress’s disjointed, at times illegible writing implies an autonomy from the rules dictating epistolary writing etiquette and form corresponds to her disposition toward inspiration in creation and emphasis on aesthetic freedom. As she once wrote to Nikolai Turkin, “inspiration disappears as quickly as it appears, so we must be absolutely free at any moment to give ourselves up to its call”* (#4 Letters 37). As readers of letters can be “enticed by fictions of revelation” (Spacks 1988), we are also ‘enticed’ by personal psychology in writers’ drafts and artists’ sketches as. * BfloxHOBeinie r a x xce B H eaanH o H S 'ieaaeT , x a x h noBBJUteTc», h n a q o 6 w r s a6coJiioTHO CBoGoqHBIM BO BCBKOe BpehfB, «lTo6bl OT^aTk CB C ro npHSblBy Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 6 for example, the interest in Pushkin’s manuscript marginalia. Kommissarzhevskaia’s feverish penmanship and the aspects o f the page referred to, above, suggest a draft or sketch, and this unrehearsed quality adds to the sense of the presence o f the author in the text. Moreover, the impulsive graphic layout o f the page reflects the meandering, train-of-thought style in which the letters’ contents are revealed. These aspects denote an immediacy of expression not unlike the visceral quality of contemporary performance art, with its implied emphasis on process over product. In general, the visual impression of pages such as these forms a unique picture o f the writer caught up in a spontaneous outburst of expression and emotion not hampered by concerns for traditional text layout or controlled image production.'” The total period o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary endeavors is relatively short due to the actress’s early death in 1910 and can be conveniently divided by one event in the actress’s professional life: her entry into civic life as a theater entrepreneur in 1904. From 1893 to 1903 the actress was either employed in provincial theaters or “served” in the Imperial Alexandrine Theater. Although her social significance increased after 1904, when she organized two successive St. Petersburg theaters, her personality and philosophy were only slightly modified in the later period, unlike the way in which Briusov’s epistolary tone and theme abruptly changed to complement the poet’s rise in professional stature (Gasparov 1991). There is a tendency in letters written by Kommissarzhevskaia post-1904 to be slightly shorter in length, more terse, and with fewer extreme lyrical passages. Around 1904 her range of addressees expanded to include individuals involved with the Znanie group and subsequently the Symbolist Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 7 poets and artists who became associated with the Dramatic Theater after 1906. Her correspondences ranged from emotional relationships (e.g., Khodotov, Feona, Briusov) to ties with rising literary figures (Naidenov, Gorkii, Przybyszewski, Rachilde), estab lished stage directors like Karpov, who could provide her with lucrative roles when she served at the Alexandrine Theater and offer practical advise on the formation o f her own theater; young directors like Vsevolod Meierkhol d, who had already gained a reputation for his work in Stanislavsky's Theater-Studio; popular writers like Anton Chekhov and Sophia Sazonova-Smimova, critics and publishers Nikolai Efros, Lidiia Gurevich, Aleksei Suvorin, whose endorsement could advance her theatrical endeavors and acting career. The theme of the artist’s civic responsibility unites the letters o f these two periods, suggesting again the formative influence o f Ruskin on the actress’s personal philosophy. In letters to younger artists, this theme appears in the form of instruction or admonition; to equals, it is expressed as justification for actions and as personal credo. Kommissarzhevskaia was extremely well-read, and seems to have gained some reputation for this attribute. Sophia Smimova-Sazonova’s account o f Kommissarzhev skaia’s rooms reads like a formulaic description o f an intellectual’s apartment; dark, cluttered with books and newspapers." The actress studied period drawings to become acquainted with the atmosphere of a play, and she carefully monitored the text o f her roles and productions: “I want to perform \L .M .V il’ kma~Mimkaia-klm\ Minskaia’s Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 8 translation; I’ll redo it so that the censors won’t hold it up”* (#166 Letters 127); “His [PavelZvezdich (Rotenshtem )-klm\ translation is horrible... I’m staging Shnitzler for the first time in my theater, and I can’t stage him using a translation that sometimes doesn’t make sense”* * (#218 Letters 153), The actress often lent books to colleagues such as Zonov and Khodotov, and her letters contain requests for specific books (mostly the latest literature). Khodotov (1932) singles out a list o f Russian and Euro pean poets and writers ranging from Pushkin to Wilde and Ruskin who were his and Kommissarzhevskaia’s “constant conversation companions” during their close associa tion in the early years o f the century (a conglomeration of European and Russian classics— Pushkin, Turgenev, Dante— as well as more contemporary thinkers, e.g., Shelley, Maeterlinck, Chekhov, Nietzche, and “Kommissarzhevskaia’s favorite philoso pher, J. Ruskin”). As discussed in Chapter VI, Kommissarzhevskaia even attempted to enter a publishing debate regarding a new translation o f Nietzsche that had already received negative critical response in two major journals.And, as noted in Chapter n, the actress rejected at least one request from a publisher for her impressions o f theater life.*^ Since I am arguing for the literary merits o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters and not Just their significance as historical documents, evidence of the writer’s special relationship to the writing process itself and conscious application of style and literary * 3 xoHy lopaTb no Mhhckoü nepeaoqy (a nepeflejiaio ero), b ueaiype He sanep^Kar. * riepeBOA arc y x a c e H ...W & Mory * e «, craBsi Bnepsbie b CBoeM rearpe lilHHunepa, craBHTb arc B TaK O M nepaBoqa, r^a MacrawH CMbicna na HaxoAHiub?! Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 9 conventions should be addressed. The convention o f letter-writing as “having a word” or “speaking” with a literary interlocutor is best exemplified by the frequent interpola tion of a parenthetic “Yes?” “Okay?” {Da?) (as in "Napishite m ne chto~nibud\ da?" “ Sdelaete. D a ? "\ directly engaging the reader in an attempt to encourage a positive re sponse." In these letters, there is evidence of the author’s awareness o f the writing process and consistent organizational strategies, and a creative, even poetic, use of lan guage. Especially in letters written prior to 1904, there are many meta-literary passages referring to the act o f writing. Since the actress did not have a systematic academic education, the atmosphere o f the artistic intelligentsia in which she was raised was a key factor in her early interest in literature. Her later professional involvement with critics and playwrights helped to advance Kommissarzhevskaia’s juvenile appreciation for literature. She acknowledged the complexity of communication not only in terms of role creation, but through the writing process as well. In a passage from a letter to Veniamin Nikulin, written during her second season in Nezlobin’s Vilnius theater, Kommissarzhevskaia intimated her writing prowess by providing the theater entrepre neur with a lesson on how to write and a summary of her own letter-writing methodol ogy: I won’t look for style or rlmhin or even variety in your lelters...Of course, one must find tlie words to express thoughts, but don't search (or them too long, grab the first ones that come your way. "Words arc tliought's fetters." but what can you do— neither you nor I nor anyone...can convey these thoughts without fetters. And better to give Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 140 them to me m chains titan not at ail. and if I can't break tlie chains, then I'll try to weaken their impact.* More than Just accepting the inability o f complete communication, she implies that the “fetters” of words are to be broken. The actress gives a Positivist spin to the Symbolist commonplace concerning the inability o f words to convey thought or feelings ac curately, and in this regard, as in the following passage, we are reminded o f Khodotov’s inclusion o f Tiutchev among his and Kommissarzhevskaia’s conversation companions. ’ She defines part o f the epistolary process as free form ("grab the first ones that come your way’), similar to the theme of emancipation that runs through the actress’s life work. Whereas references to audience reaction to her roles and exhilaration at rising success predominate in letters written prior to entering the Alexandrine Theater, after this time Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters began to be dotted with references to the art of acting, indicating a growing personal definition o f performance. When Kommissarzhev skaia joined the Imperial Alexandrine Theater in Spring, 1896, Alexander Kugel’ first touted the actress as a “nice acquisition” for “our company” (Peterhur^skaia gazeta (14 April 1896) in Chronicle 76). Much in the nineteenth-century tradition, the actress advocated inspiration and hard work as partners in the creative process. While vague in methodology, the educational platform she and Jurgis Baltrushaitis would later develop * f l xoqy T ojifcK O cxaaaTb. qro He crany Hcxaxb b Bamnx uHCbMax hh cthjisi, hh cnora, hm qaxce pa3HocropoHHocTH...IIa, K O H e<m o, naflo. npH xoA H TC H Hcxarb cnosa ajih BbipaxceHHH MbicjiH, ho hh Hmnre hx aojiro, cxBaTaftre nepBbie nonaBuiHecsi. "CnoBO— oKOBbi ajiji M btcAH." Ha, ho hto jkc ACJiaTb-H H Bbi, H H H , Aa h H H K T o . He yMcer Aaaaxb 3TH mhicjih 6ea okob: ho Jiynuie Aaure mhc ee B uenax, qew coBcew ne AaBaxb, a », ecjiH ne Mory paaopaaxb uenH, to xorb nocrapaiocb ocnaSHTb. M X A aB JieH H e. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 141 for her projected school was steeped in notions o f psychological, subjective, experienc ing; The development of temperament and individualitv' of each one must be given free reign...The soul, imagination, and will must create... All must live with beauty, poetry. Iyricism...There will be no play-acting taught in my school!* (D'iakonov in Karpov 1911: 33) At the Alexandrine, Kommissarzhevskaia began to serve as mentor for younger actors such as Khodotov, whom she advised against replicating familiar acting models in favor o f a personal emotional response.*® Her emphasis on the importance o f observation and the internalization o f emotion bears comparison with Stanislavsky’s acting theory, and, as discussed in Chapters II and IV, it is not surprising that Kommissarzhevskaia was offered a place in the Moscow Art Theater upon her decision to leave the Alexandrine. In the case o f a stage adaptation, the actress insisted on the preeminence o f the prosaic characterization over the dramaturgic recreation, and chided her directors when they disagreed with her.*^ She emphasized the text of the play and its interpretation as a bridge between the stage and the audience, and the potential for non-communication was one reason behind her rejection of Schiller’s time-honored classic based on the life o f Joan of Arc for a new play on the same theme by a novice writer (see Chapter H). As regards the process of writing, Kommissarzhevskaia seems to have derived personal satisfaction from composing her epistles, though apparently she often had to encourage her correspondents to evidence the same degree o f enthusiasm. For exam ple, when touring or vacation forced their separation, the actress was not satisfied with * Pa3BHTHe TeMnepaMeura h MHqHBHnyanbHocTH Ka^Kgoro aojuKHo h a th b noJiHoif cBoGoge... HyxHo, HTo6 bi TBopwna ayma, BooGpaxeuMe, Bon5 i...Hy3 KHo, ‘iroGbi Bce jkhjih xpacoroA, noaaneH, JiHpnKofi...B Moeif uiKojie yuMTb TeaTpajibuofi urpe ue Gyayr! Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 2 Khodotov's epistolary attentions to her. The form o f her admonitions to recalcitrant correspondents was usually indirect, conveyed through anecdote or story, as in the following excerpt from a long letter to Khodotov: A great writer once said that every writer, whetlieror not he wants to write, must take a sheet of paper and begin thus: "I have no idea what I should write." The rest will come of itself- But when you write a letter, it's the opposite: you need to say. “1 have a lot to say.” in order to not write notliing— Here Kommissarzhevskaia also acquires the status o f literary adviser, but her mood shifts from instigator to theorist as she introduces a brief exegesis on the challenge posed by the writing process itself: This is because tlie mind isn't Glled with tlioughts nor the soul with feelings, but with fragments, and despite tlie greedy desire to relay them, this turns out to be more difficult tlian it seems. ' (Khodotov 1932:170) Although she stops at the point o f description of how the vague, “fragmentary” nature of thoughts and feelings impedes their communication in written form, the supportive comparisons, stories, and parables she uses in her letters suggest a solution in symbolic, poetic language. “Fragmentation” is an apt metaphor for Kommissarzhevskaia’s literary style in general. Kommissarzhevskaia allowed her progression of thought rather than formulaic argumentation to guide her pen . The end result was often a loosely-connected conglomeration of ideas, requests, laments, and entreaties with an emphasis on expres sion resembling stream-of-conscious narrative furthered by Modernist writers such as * K t o - t o H3 6 o jn > u in x n H c a T e jie f t r o B o p u n , ‘i t o Ka>KabiH n H c a r e j i b a o jr a c e H ,—x o u e r j i h o h , h j i h H e xoH C T H H c a T b -d p a T b J iH c r H H a u a T b e r o r a x : " a peuiH T C JibH o H e n n a io , « rro M He n H c a T b ." —a g a ji b u i e c a M o n o H q e T . A b o t x o r g a m n u e u i b nHCbM O. r i b iB a e r H a o f io p o T : c t o h t c x a i a x b " a M H o ro x o n y c K a s a x b ," . H T o S b i H e H a n H c a x b H H n e r o . 3 t o B b ix o g H T n o T O M y , m t o r o J i o B a n o j i n a n e M b icn aM H , g y m a n e qyBCTBaM H, a o ô p b iB x a M H h n e c M o r p a n a x a g n o e x c e n a H H e h x n e p e g a x b , a x o c x a a b i B a e x c a M H o ro x p y g n e e , new x a a c e x c a . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 143 James Joyce or seen in the ornamental prose of compatriots Aleksei Remizov and Boris Pil’niak- “I can’t ever write connectedly,” she wrote in a subsequent letter to Khodotov. As the passage progressed, Kommissarzhevskaia delineated her writing methodology in terminology similar to her letter to Nikulin from a half-decade before: A wealth of thouglits. sensations, and even words descend on me. I plunge into this crowd in order to grab wliatever comes to hand, whatever is nearest, whatever yields to me. and 1 send it wherever I like, and now this means to you.'(#85 Letters 81) These examples indicate that, in Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary style, the minus device o f randomness emerges as a creative principle: she "grabs whatever comes to hand, whatever is nearest, whatever yields’ to her writer’s sense o f artistic organization. The extended length o f many letters attests to the fact that the actress was indeed able to commit to paper "fragments’ o f thought or emotion, and the result was often a dis jointed or crazy-quilt combination of images and themes. In referring to the polythematic nature of personal letters in general, Gasparov (1991:15) identified disjointedness as the "privilege and mark o f the epistolary genre.” Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary style illustrates this attribute to an extreme. The following excerpt from a 1901 letter to Karpov is typical for its thematic shift from inward musings (isolation nurtures inspiration) to references to the reader and historical narrative ("here’s about my trip'--referring to her present tour) without transitional phrases or justification: ** 5 1 H e yMeio micaTb HHoraa c b h s h o . Ha m bhh HaneraioT wacca MUcneH, oinymuHHH h c jio b gaace— h b o t h Bbipbiaaiocb b ary rojiny. nTofibi ycnexb 'iro-HHfiyflb cxBarirrb. h t o nonaaeTCH, Tfo ôJH D K e, TTo oogAacTCH H nocbiJiaio 3TO Kyaa xouercH— ana'iHT Baw renepb. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 144 I can onh' say this; if I liad character. [ would now. at tliis ver\" momenL do one thing: banish myself for a short while to complete, absolute isolation. Not tlie kind of isolation that a tired spirit and even tlie body sometimes long for. but tliat borderland or. rather, that field which one must cross in order to emerge onto a new and necessary thoroughfare that is \ital for the spirit which gives life to creation ...How I would like to see you and talk to you. Namely to talk with you about how and what is in me about tliis directioru as 1 have no other direction now. So. here's about my trip.' (#11 in Mordson e ta l. 1956: 507) Although a good example o f Gasparov s observation concerning epistolary disjointedness, the abrupt change in tone and topic is characteristically Kommissarzhev skaia’s. This passage in particular provides additional examples o f the actress’s flexibility with language, seen here in a creative restructuring o f idioms. In fact, in the epistolary writing the production o f word plays based mostly on common cliches parallels the way in which the content topics shift in theme and mood. In the example, above, by rephrasing “crossing a border ” with the metaphor o f “crossing a field,” the actress did more than opt for a more poetic image. She also gave her linguistic choice more depth by its allusion to the folk proverb “to live life is not the same as crossing a field” (zhizn ' prozhit ' - m pole pereiti). The subsequent inclusion of the antiquated term stez' (rendered in the translation by “thoroughfare”) adds to the linguistic texture o f the passage. Shifts in tone and topic tend to distract the reader’s attention, but in Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters this effect is countered by a type of organization that links * Cxaacy tojibko oano: ecJiH 6bi y mchji fibui xapaxrep. a fibi renepb, b aannoe Bpewa. gofiiuiacb 6bi oqnoro: ofipexjia 6bt cefijt na HeKoroptie opewa ua noJiHoe. aficoJiioTHoe oflHHonecTSO. 3 ro H e T O oaHHO'ieereo. Koropoe acaxcqer HHorga ycxajibifl gyx h aaxce reno, a ra rpaHHua hjih, sepHee, TO noJie, qepea Koropoe nago nepcHTH. «i6. BcryniiTb na Hoayio, neoôxoAHMyio creaio, HeofixogHMyio gjia flyxa, Koropufi gaer iK H 3H b TBopqecTBy...Kax mhc xorejiocb 6bi cenaac Bac yBHgerb h roBopHTb Saw. M wéHHO roaopHTb, xax h hto ao mhc a 3tom HanpaajieHHH, a apyroro HanpaaJieHHa Gojibme nmcaKoro cefinac h Her. Tax bot. o noeagxe. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 5 the beginning and end o f a letter. This circular structure, in which an initial theme is inti mated or even reintroduced towards the end o f the letter, gives a letter closure. Within a letter’s circular structure, we can isolate types of content transmission or classifi cations o f information similar to Gasparov’s delineation concerning Briusov’s epistolary style. Since, as Chapter IV examines, Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov’s epistolary relationship retained its shared discourse even when their personal relationship found ered, it might be constructive to examine Gasparov’s categories o f information trans mission in order to extract generalities about Kommissarzhevskaia’s writing style. In - Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters, the most frequent type o f information transmitted is “lyric,” referring to self-revelatory passages where mood, thoughts, and feelings are de scribed, with “epic” or “narrative” modes of transmission, in which events or news are related, a far second. A final category, “pragmatic,” in Gasparov’s account, includes the evocation of conviction, and questions or requests to the interlocutor. For the body of letters under discussion, it is more appropriate to subdivide this category into “pragmatic,” referring to questions and requests, and a separate heading, “dogmatic,” - for the following reasons. The theme of ideological conviction is probably the most constant motif in the Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters (and I will return to this topic towards the end of this chapter). In both periods of her correspondence history, the actress repeatedly avered her trust in the purpose of theater and her personal commitment to Art. Moreover, the language in which she framed her demands and requests may be direct or indirect but her statements o f faith were never equivocal. Her personal letters contain these four elements to varying degrees. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 146 When the modes o f information transmission, “narrative,” “lyric,” “pragmatic,” and “dogmatic,” occur together in one letter, they tend to follow a similar order within the circular structure referred to, above. Kommissarzhevskaia typically begins a letter with a lyrical introduction, which may include references to a past letter or the state of her mood at writing. Language in these passages tends to be suggestive and often contains complex sentence structures such as produced by attempts to replicate in writing stream-of-conscious. Regardless of its length, this introductory lyrical passage often sets the general theme for the letter. The writing then progresses into a narrative mode, in which recent events in the Dramatic Theater or the actress's acting career are described. This information is often relayed in a factual manner, and sometimes by means of an enumerated list. The sentences that express these thoughts tend to be short and the language more direct. This section also provides examples, either in the form of autobiographical episodes or a parable, to support the theme presented in the lyric introduction. However, the narrative mode is often interspersed with pragmatic elements in the form of interjections addressed to the reader; for example, demands, requests, questions, or the support-gathering “Yes?” “Okay?” {Da?). The fragmenta tion' to which Kommissarzhevskaia alluded in the above-quoted letter to Khodotov seems to aptly describe the way in which, in the construction o f her letters, even- flowing narrative is broken up by exclamations, questions, and rhetorical statements. Towards the end o f the letter the lyrical element usually reappears, often acting as a support for an already-stated request, or returning to the mood or theme introduced at the beginning o f the letter. Although the polythematic quality o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 7 letters has a tendency to produce the effect o f fragmented structure, we nonetheless find that thoughts expressed at the beginning o f a letter are often reiterated towards or at the letter’s end. The open-ended quality o f dialogic discourse in these letters is thus often coun tered by a relatively controlled organizational structure. An excerpt from a letter to Valerii Briusov, written in 1907 towards the beginning o f their relationship, provides an example of ‘circular structure.’ The letter begins thus: I write in great agitation, and for tliis reason everything might be disconnected and unclear. riHiiiy B SojibmoM BOJiH eH HH. H noTOMy Bce riyqer 6eccBH3Ho h HencHo. SbiTb M O jK er. From this brief introduction (lyric), the actress launches into a description of recent events in her theater involving what she perceived to be continued intrigue against her on the part of her recently-hired director, Vsevolod Meierkhol’d (narrative). A direct address to the poet requesting help in the form of a play translation follows (pragmatic), and the letter culminates by referring to the introductory mood of anxiety and distress (lyric): ...I await your answer. I awnit an answer that won't be as anxious as this letter, but nonetheless [I await] an immediate answer. ...H jKfly OTBera Bauiero. 51 JKgy oTBera He raxoro jiHXopaitouHoro, xax arc iiHCbM o, H O o'leHb cKoporo. (#250 Letters 166-167) Another letter, written a week later, contains a similar pattern o f return. The purpose of this letter was to thank Briusov for responding to her request for a translation of D’Annunzio’s Francesca da Rimini (in the afore-cited letter): Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 14 8 I didn’t send you my tlianks in a telegram, and I don’t send it in this letter. I don’t want to deprive you of the joy of accepting it from my eyes, my smile, my hand, from all o f me. I am reading the manuscript 1 Just received from you. and I can’t compre hend how in such a short period of time you could do all this so wonderfully. Through the music of your words 1 can hear the fire of Francesca's soul— a He nocnaJia BaM finarojtapHocTH b xeJierpaMMC, a He nocbiJiaio S a w ee B 3TO M HHCbM e. 51 He xony JiHiuarb Bac pagocTH Baaxb ee hx mohx mac. yjtbifiKH. pyKH H Bcex Mena. 51 HHTaio TojibKo H T O HojiyaeHHyio o r B a c pyKomtcb h He noHHMaio, KaK M O PJiH B b i B TaKoe K o p o T K o e Bpewa cflejian. Bace 3 t o r a x npexpacHo. Hepes MysbiKy B a m n x cjiob a r a x cjibimy oroHb oymn «hpaHuecxH— In a rising emotional pitch, the body of the letter continues, again, with a narrative outline o f recent events in the Dramatic Theater and reference to Kommissarzhevskaia’s displeasure with her new director. In closing, the mood abruptly shifts by returning to the theme of the inadequacy o f non-visual (and non-tactile) communication, introduced at the letter’s beginning; ...Meierkhol’d isn't taking advantage of my hot temper but of means which allow him to presume a complete lack of deccnc\ and which in Petersb|urg| almost always lead to desired results for people like this. Until tomorrow— I didn’t want to give you even the smallest bit of myself by phone. ...Meirepxojibfl Hcnojibayer He m oji ro p jru H cicb . a r e cpeflcrea, l a xoropbie no3BOJiseT ewy fipaxbcst oojihoc orcyrcTBHe nopsiaoHHocTH h xoropbie b fTerepfilyprej Bcerqa noH TM npHBogar x p e iy J tb r a r a M . xceJiarejibHbiM rowy. XTo X H H M npHïîeraer. flo aaBxpa— a He xorejia qarb B a w hh xyco'tXH ce6a no rejierpoHy. (#253 Letters 169-170) As further examples o f writing spontaneity, Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters often begin in media res without formal heading or introduction and end as abruptly, as in the case, above. Spontaneity is more a characteristic of an emotional rather than rational orienta tion, and two additional factors support the argument for classification o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s personal letters as lyrical in nature. On the one hand, there is a Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 9 tendency towards an associative, rather than unilinear flow o f ideas. In addition, though occasional direct addresses to the reader indicate dialogicity on the level o f language, the thematic focus o f the personal letters remains predominantly monologic with ideas following an associative progression as found in poetic or symbolic language. This associative structure is often presented in stream-of-conscious passages that are only tenuously connected and primarily effected by impressions o f the moment. The follow ing letter to Karpov from mid-May 1898 presents a combination of the topics under discussion. In the letter, the lyrical theme introduced in the first paragraph (i.e., a dream) serves an organizational function: I dreamed about you all night. Evlikhii Pavlovich. All night long, and you were so kind and so worn out that as soon as I got up. I sat down to write you. You remember. I told you that you have two people in you...Right now . the You whom I saw in my dream...rve coimected witli the You as you were last time you visited, and I get You Nol. amazingly kind, in w hom I have the greatest hope. Tliis Nol has completely wiped out No2. and so that's why I'm writing you. until such time as No2 rears its head. Wliat are you doing? Are you writing? Have you rid your self of tlie mood in w hich you were so deeply entrenched recently? Are you dealing with whatever it is that has been bothering \ou? Can't I help in some way?...You probably liaven't even thought of writing me. I don't make letters. 1 don't read. 1 don’t tlunk. 1 only feel, and I feel so much that my soul can't fit nor my spiritual eye embrace tliese new horizons that liave suddenly opened up around it. You won't make an\thing out of my scrawls, but really 1 have no energ\ to tiy. Ourweatlier isn't wonderfiil. or glorious, nothing can describe it. just— sun. air. cherry trees, lily-of-the-valley. and swallows singing from morning to night and from niglit to morning, in a word, eveiyihing that takes the breath away, makes your Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 0 heart stop beating and love for one's self disappear. Farewell. I don't want to write about myself today. Fond, fond regards. Wlien are you going to write me. Evtikhii Pavlovich?' (#48 Letters 63) The image o f a dream serves to motivate the writing and Kommissarzhevskaia’s analysis o f her reader. Direct addresses in the form of questions o f concern follow, with an abrupt switch to the lyrical, as the actress explains her current state, “I don’t make letters ...I only feel,” switching again briefly to her reader before a final, narrative description. The letter also contains unusual linguistic turns which, as I have noted in other examples, Kommissarzhevskaia frequently creates in her letters: “ I don’t make letters” instead o f “I don’t write letters,” and ‘'the weather isn’t wonderful, or glorious” instead of the formulaic “The weather is glorious.” We also find the clear juxtaposition between lyrical, narrative, and pragmatic elements that gives the effect o f an exuberant, spontaneous psychological nature, and this is one aspect of Kommissarzhevskaia’s personality that critics and supporters alike agreed upon in their descriptions. The fact that Kommissarzhevskaia’s Alexandrine audiences warmed to the thirty-three-year-old * B c k ) HOHb c e ro ftH H B H n e jia B a c b o c h c , EBTwxHH flaB Jio B H M . K a x e c T b b ck > H 0 4 b . k t u k o h B b i 6 b [JiH c jiaB H b iA , TaKOM H 3 M y 4 eH H b (ii, 'ITO a, KaK TOJIBKO B C T aJia, c a jK v c b B a M m ic a T b . rioMHHTe, a BaM roBopujia, 'IT o b Bac C H flaT asa 'reJioBeKa...Ceif'iac a Bac Toro, KOToporo BHgejia B O cHe . coegHM M Jia c t c m , kbkhm Bbi 6buiH y Mena nocjieaHHH pai, h noJiy'iHJiHCb Bbi #1. yflH BH TCJibH o cjiaBHbiH, Ha KOTopoTo a Bo.'ijiaraio TaKHc 6ojibuiHc Haaeacabi. 3 t o t #1 coBceM sacnoHHJi #2-0, h noroMy a BaM tnoiiy. noxa H e Bbirjumyji s t o t xyco'iex 2-ro #. H t o Bbi aenaeTe? riHmeTe an? CTpanyaocb an c Bac 3to HacrpoeHHe, xoTopoe Tax xpenxoe Buermaocb e Bac aa nocaeaHce BpcMa? CnpaBHaHCb an c TcM H aw t c m h . x t o Bac My'iHa?...y Bac, k o h c 'i h o . eme h h paay H e Meabxiya Mbicab m h c namicaTb? H nnceM He aeaaio. He 'iHTaio, He aywaio. Toabxo *iyB C T B yio, a 'lyBCTByio croaxbxo, 'I T o ayuia He sMemaeT h ayxoBHbiH saop ne m o j k c t oriiiaTb Tex H O B btx ropiDoirroB, xaxne Bapyr orpxbiBaioTca cM y. Bbi mmero ne paafiiipaeTe H a mohx xapaxyab, ' H O , npaao, a He b cHaax crapaTbca. rioroaa y uac He auBHaa, ne 'lyanaa, a caoB TaxHX h c t , npaMo— coanue, Boaayx, nepeMyxa, aaHgbimb h coaoBbHHbie necHH c yrpa h a » h o 'ih h c o h o 'i i i a " yrpa. CaoBOM, Bce t o , o t «lero aaxBafbiBaeT ayx. nepecraeT 6irrbca cepaue h ua'ieaaeT aiofioBb x ce6e. flpomaHTe, o ce6e mhc He xoaerca cerogHa micaTb. )Kmv xpenxo, xpemco Bauiy pyxy. Koraa Bbi M H e HammiHTe, EsTHXidt naaaoBHH. A? Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 151 actress’s impersonations o f the effervescent adolescents Rosie (Sudermann’s Fight o f the Butterflies^ and the “zesty” Sasha (Chekhov’s Ivanov) is not surprising, given the images of personality suggested by the language and organizational patterns in her letters. Letter-writing for Kommissarzhevskaia was an exercise in the "conversation of the soul” that was more confession or self-analysis rather than dialogue. Consider, for example, the following excerpt from a letter to Sophia Smimova-Sazonova from March, 1900. Although her interest in Kommissarzhevskaia sharply waned after 1905, during the first years of the decade the dramatist avidly marked the actress’s progress in her journal.The extract from Kommissarzhevskaia’s letter shows a lyric writing style incorporating description o f personal emotion, mood, and poetic devices: Sofia Ivanovna, my dear. I Just liad an urge to write you for no reason whatsoever. Just an urge, and I am giving in to tfiis desire with the risk of being tlie only one to derive any pleasure from it. Don't tliink that I want to share some new, interesting impres sions with you— that's not it. First of all. if there were any. then my ability to share them is always inversely proportional to the degree to which the impression made on me, and secondly, my soul during this time has become significantly less receptive and I don’t know why. Maybe it 's formed a crust from layers of all possible day-to- day petty trivialities, tlirougli wluch it is difficult for all pure Joys of the spirit to pass, or over tlie years our spiritual shell, like the physical one. loses its fbnner (lexibility. 1 don’t know. I only know that at the same time this spiritual state stands in terrible contradiction to my other psjchic mood.* * C o tp b Ji H naH O B H a, g o p o r a n , mhc y * c a c H o c e w n a c a a x o T e n o c b H a n H c a r i . B a w 6 e a B c a x o r o k TO M y n o B o g a , n p o c T o x o n e r c j t , h h y c r y n a i o a ro N iy x c e n a n m o . c p n c K U M g o c r a B H T b sthm y g o B O jib C T B H e T O Jib K o c e 6 e . H e g y w a H r e . 'ito a x o u y n o g e J iH T b c a c B a w H K aK H W H -H H Ô ygb HOBbiM H, H irrep e c H b iM H M B ne«iaT JieH H JiM H —hct. B o - n e p B b tx , e c n n 5 b i h rib tJiH T aK O B b ie. to c n o c o r iH o c T b g e jiH T b c a HMH y mciw B c e r g a o 6 p a T H o n p u n o p m to H a j i b H a toh c u n e . K a x y io ohm n a M e f» t n p o H S B ejiH , a B o - B T o p b ix , MOH g y i u a l a n o c n e g n e e B p e w a e x a J i a iH a>iH T eJibH O M e n e e B O c n p m tM H H B a , h a H e a n a i o , u e in 3To o fi-b acH H T b . 3 a p o c n a jih o H a K o p o it, o r ip a a o B a B U ie iie a o r HacJiOHeHHH B eeB 0 3 M 0 3 K H b ix acHTeHCKHX M eJiKH x H eH y jK H cx rreH . c K B o ib K O T o p y io T a x T y r o n p o x o g a r ‘iH C T b ie p a g o c T H g y x a , hjih a c e c r o g a M ii g y x o B n a a H a m a o r i o j i o 't x a , r a x a c e x a x h (p H S H H e c x a n , y r p a H H B a e T n p e a c n y i o rH fix o c T b —H e a n a i o , a n a i o T o j i b x o . hto b to a c e B p e w a 3To c o c T o a H H e g y m n n a x o g H T c a b c T p a u iH o w n p o T H B o p e H H H c g p y rH M mohm n cH X H H ecx H M H a c rp o e H H e M . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 2 Although the beginning o f the letter purports to include the intended reader (Smimova- Sazonova) in the writing (“I just had an urge to write you”), what follows is indeed a monologic discussion o f the actress’s current emotional state. In keeping with this lyrical orientation, Kommissarzhevskaia introduces a folk tale as allegory in order to clarify her self-analysis and represent her ‘other psychic mood’: You remember tlie stot\" of Tsar Saltan, where Tsar Saltan's son. who was tossed into the sea in a tar-encased barrel, one fine day stretched out in the barrel, got up. broke through tlie bottom, and escaped? It seems to me that there are moments like this in everyone’s life when you've got to "stretch, get up. and break tlirough the bottom." but some let tlie moment pass, others didn't notice it: even more either forced themselves or were forced to still this urge. But for some reason the minute comes when you listen to yourself and suddenly that minute coincides with the moment when this demand deafens all other voices...What if the bottom turns out to be stronger than your head? Tlie secret is probably not to fear— if you fear for your head, you’ll never break through anything.' (#73 Letters 73-74) Given the dramatist’s adherence to reactionary conservatism and Kommissarzhevskaia’s stand for personal freedom and self-expression, the rendering o f the Pushkin tale seems particularly illustrative o f the philosophical differences between the two women and, in this regard, an indication that Kommissarzhevskaia was writing more from a need to clarify her own ‘spiritual state’ than to gain the writer’s sympathies. According to a journal entry, the letter’s brooding tone struck Smimova-Sazonova as expressive o f a “ strange kind o f rebellious mood,” though she acknowledged that the story undoubt ** Bbi noMHHTe cKaixy o "Lfape CaJiTane". noMHirre. Kax CbiH uapsi CajiTana, KOToporo nycrroiH Mope b aacMOJieHHou Gonxe, b oqHH npcKpacHbiif acHb noTanycji b Sohkc, Bcraji, BbllUHÔ R H O H Bbliuejl U pO M b. Mhc K aX C C T C S I. B X C R 1 H M K aX C flO ru U C JIO B C K a 6bIBaiOT TaXHe M OM eHTbi, Koraa naqo "noTHHyrcji. Bcraxb w B biG H Tb auo", ho ogHH ero nponycTHJiH, gpyme He aaM CTHJiH, Tpexbe kto coiHaxejibHo, a k to 6ecco3HaTeJiHO lacraBMJiH riaMOJiuaTb b ce6e arc TpeSoBaHHe, a bot no KaKowy-HHôyab [cnyuaKi] Bbrnaaer MHHyrxà. Korqa npHcnymaeuibCH k ceSe H B a p y r ona coBnana c rew M O M eH T O M . xorqa rpeSoBaHHc aro aarjiyuiHJio Bce rojioca... Ho cexpeT, BeponTHo, b tom, ‘iTo6bi He ôoHTbca, noxa fioiuubCJi aa cboki rojioBy— HHUero He npoGbemb. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 3 edly had great relevance to Kommissarzhevskaia s life at the moment ^Letters 310). Indeed, during this time the actress was contemplating leaving the Alexandrine Theater, and this split would cause a breach in the personal relationship between Sazonova- Smimova and Kommissarzhevskaia. The allusion to gathering energy for a momentous act was more directly stated in a letter to Karpov, written around the same time: “If I now find the strength to leave,” Kommissarzhevskaia wrote, “I will do something greater”* fChronicle 128). In Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistles, parables serve homiletic and self-reflexive functions as a statement o f the actress’s own ideology. One suspects that the sophisticated, effete world of the artistic intelligentsia that Kommissarzhevskaia had inherited from her familial environment and work with her father and Stanislavsky in their Moscow Society o f Art and Literature student productions during 1890-91 did not prepare the actress for the relaxed atmosphere o f the provincial theater scene she encountered three years later. Throughout her life the actress was contemptuous of performers who did not elicit the same degree of moral conviction Kommissarzhevskaia associated with being an Artist. In the case o f Nikolai Roshchin-Insarov, the popular actor’s bohemian life style precipitated an acrimonious letter from his theater colleague. Although the actor was three years her senior, Kommissarzhevskaia wrote to him in the manner of a wise counselor scolding a child. The letter begins with an unusually direct outline of the writer’s platform: Ha, ecjiH a r e n e p b nanny ciuibt yimi, a mto-to 6ojibuiee cflejiaK). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 154 You are a great artist, but. I repeat, you will never be who you could be. with your talent...You are asleep to spiritual life, witliout wliich tlie artist in you will begin to die...Wliat can save you? Only one tiling— love for arL for that art which has long since ceased to be a goal for you and which has become only a means for tlie satisfaction of your own vanit} and all kinds of desires that have notliing whatsoever in common with art. Kommissarzhevskaia then shifted to a parable reminiscent o f the Pygmalian legend (further discussed in Chapter VTI) in order to emphasis her admonition o f what she perceived to be Roshchin-Insarov’s inappropriate attitude towards Art: In a Parisian fine arts gallery there is a famous statue. It w-as the last work of art of a great artist who. like many people of genius, lived in a mansard that served him both as a studio and sleeping quarters. When tlie statue was almost finished, the Parisian night turned to frost. Tlie sculptor could not sleep for the cold and kept thinking tliat tlie clay liad not yet liad time to dr> and that the water in it would freeze and in one hour the statue would be ruined and the dream of his life would be destroyed. He got up and put his blanket around tlie status. Tlie next morning they found the sculptor dead, but tlie statue was unhanned. That's how you must love your work.* In terms of Kommissarzhevskaia’s ideology in general, the passage conveyed a neo- Platonic attitude to art as a striving towards the beautiful. Yet as an ideological platform, the ending’s triumph o f art over life was part o f the Romantic imagination o f tum-of-the century artists, and, two years after this letter was written, Kommissarzhev- * A pTH C T B b i rioJibU ioH , n o B T o p a io , h o B bi H iiK o rn a h c r i y a e r e t c m , mcm M orjiH 6 b i S b iT b n p n B a in s M T a n a H T e ...B b i a a c n y jiH fljin ayxoBHOH xch3hm , 6 c 3 K O T opoft H a u H e r yw H p aT b b B a c h apTH C T...H To M orJio 6 b i c n a c m B a c ? O gH o, to jib k o o aw o - jiK irioB b k HCKyccTBy, k T o w y H cicyccT B y, K O T o p o e gasH O n e p e c r a j i o rib iT b h jih B a c u s jib io , a c r a J i o nH iU b cpeflCTBOM yflO B JieT B opeH H e c o ricT B eH H o ro TXirecnaBHH h B ccB oiM oiK H bix crp eM JieH H ii. H e h m s k iu i h x H H u ero o 6 m e r o c HCKyccTBOM. B flapm K C K O H r a j i e p e e nasiiiiH bix H cicyccTB e c T b iH aM eH H ran c r a x y ji. O n a 6 b u i a nocjieA H H M npoH SB eaeH H SM BCJiH K oro xyaoiK H H K a, K O T o p b iii, nofloriH ci MHorHM reH H ajibH biM JiioasiM , iKHJi Ha H sp aaK e, cjiy^KHBUieM e w y h M a c re p c K o ri h c n a J ib H e if. K o r g a c ra T y n 6 b u ia c o B c e M noH TH roT O B a, ho<u>io c a e j ia ji c n b fla p m K e M o p o a . C ic y jib n T o p H e M o r c n a x b o r x o n o q a h a y iu a jr o TOM, HTO rjiH H a H e y c n e j i a e e B b ic o x n y rb . « iro B o q a b e e n o p a x a a M e p a n e r h b o a h h q a c c r a x y a r i y g e r H c n o p q e n a h paap y iU H X cji M e u r a e r o x c h 3 h h . T o r q a o h B c ra J i, l a K y r a n c r a r y i o c b o h m ofleaJiG M . Ha cneayicmec y i p o c K y jib irro p a H auuiH M epxB biM , la x o c r a x y a rib u ia H en p eg H M a. B o x KaK n a n o jiioriH Xb c B o e g e ji o . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 5 skaia would perform in The Seagull. Chekhov’s dramatization of the self-sacrificing necessity o f artistic creation. Moreover, the actress’s identity with the role o f Nina Zarechnaia and similar types added to her popular mythologization as prophet and martyr. Elsewhere in the letter, quoted above, Kommissarzhevskaia made this reference to herself explicit. She expanded the Ruskinian model of devotion to social service to the point o f self-sacrifice, and in essence built her own martyry: I am painfully searching always, everywhere, in all that is beautiful, beginning, of course, witli tlie human soul, and liaving found this beautiful, having seen this spark. I am reach' not only to forgive all the rest but to give all of myself and with no second thought to fan tliis spark into a flame." (#2 Letters 33) Whereas recent scholars might see self-sacrifice as an expression of agency (see Chapter I) or culturally derived (see Chapter VI), in their historical analyses contemporaries like Evreinov (1922) and Gaideburov (1977) were attracted to Kommissarzhevskaia’s message of dedication*’ and social responsibility, and used the image o f the martyr to distinguish her symbolic importance for the period. Indeed, the actress’s ideology o f conviction and social purpose included notions of the theurgic responsibilities of the Artist: i.e., spirituality as a means to rejuvenate art which, in turn, would lead to individual fulfillment and national greatness. Symbolist poets to a certain extent followed this precept, although by the early years o f the 20* century the movement had split into two camps. Briusov and Zinaida Gippius argued * H a o bojiH H ujy B c e ra a , B esg e, b o b ccm n p c K p a c H o ro , H a q u u a B , KOHeuHo, c a y u iH n e jio B e H e c K o ü , H, H a â a a 3TO n p e K p a c H o è , y a n a a a r y ncK py, a r o r o B a He t o j i b k o npo cT H T b a c e o c r a jib H o e , h o c e 6 a , Bca c e 6 a r o r o a a o T a a x b 6 e a p a iM b iu u ie n H H , * ito 6 p a a a y r b a x y H c x p y b n jiaM io . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 6 for the glorification o f sensuality and self-expression, whereas the theory o f Mystical Anarchism, hypothesized by Georgii Chulkov and Viacheslav Ivanov, brought Symbol ism out of the “hothouse” and into the streets. Engendered by the events o f 1905, Mystical Anarchism combined spirituality, mysticism, and social service, and empha sized the artist’s social function as spiritual intermediary or theurg.’ Kommissarzhev skaia was undoubtedly aware o f Chukov’s and Ivanov’s theories due to the involvement o f members of Ivanov’s “Tower” and with her Dramatic Theater during 1906-07, and judging from her letters and memoir accounts, she was sympathetic with aspects o f the radical ideas propounded by the Tower poets. The actress was well aware o f her social status as part of the ‘chosen,’ as she wrote to Karpov in the spring of 1898: “I recall the life that we the “chosen” or, rather, we who have chosen ourselves, lead” (#49 Letters 64). Moreover, as excerpts from her letters have indicated, the actress also ascribed to notions of the artist as spiritual guide and, to an even greater extent, the concept of art as religious rite designed to bring the populace closer to its spiritual origins (see Chapter VI). In the early years o f her career, Kommissarzhevskaia accepted her calling as social duty, but from a philosophical orientation that was less characteristic for her Symbolist contemporaries. For Ivanov and his Tower associates, the concept of theater communion between actor and audience barkened to ancient sources of comtmmilas in the spirit of the ancient Dionysian rites (e.g., Sologub’s contention o f future theater as a theater of tragedy in which the audience constitutes a “choric round dance. ” See Senelick 1981:132-148). For Kommissarzhevskaia, the primal source of energy was Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 7 not corporeally-centered, but emanated from a consciousness located in some “higher” realm of moral authority. In the following excerpt from a letter to Khodotov (mid summer 1900), Kommissarzhevskaia stressed the theurgic function o f the artist by drawing on an analogy from 16“ * century astronomy history: Galileo admitted only one point of view: standing on the eartli. But Copernicus decided that there is anotlier way: you need to look at tlie earth from a star. We in particular must be able to discover tliesc heights. Tlien you can return below, but then you’ll be checking ev’ crything against this higher point of view. It sometimes happens that you suddenly let fall on stage a word or a phrase from all you've heard in real life: because of a tone, a glance, or a gesture it resonates for you and for others as sometliing new an d unusual, really new. From tlie lips of th is individual even an ordinary phrase can resonate with something portentous, as if establishing a border between wliat was and what will be. And then you think, this person perhaps unconsciously has been to those heiglits. and this phrase is the fruit of his having been there: it’s an every-day phrase, because it's still child's prattle, but it augers' In Among the Stars. Ivanov (1909:109) stated that the power o f Art (and, by extension, the consummate value o f Symbolist art) lay in its ability to function not only as the “reflecting mirror of perception” but as the “transformational power o f the new insight.”* * As the letter citations indicate, Kommissarzhevskaia would have agreed with his views: the artist bears a responsibility to function as part-prophet and part-social activist, in the sense that the theurg’s ultimate goal is to enact social change by changing perception o f the meaning and relationship of life and art. *...rajiiuieH npHSHaeaji TOJibKo ogHy t o 'i k v ipemm na Mup: c t o h na icMJie. KonepHHK jk c peuiHJi, TFO ecTb npyraa: Haqo nocMOTpcTb ua wwp co -jBeriflbi. Hy b o t h M bi flojoKHbi cywerb HauTH 3Ty Bbicory. F I o to m m o x ch o BepHyrbcJi b h h 3 . h o ysKc ace Torqa fiyqeuib npoaepjiTb no ToU, B B ianeit rouxe apenHJi. M b o t SbiBaer Tax. m to Bbi xaxyio-HifSyqb (ppaay. c jio b o , h 3 cjibimaHHbix B aM H , BbiqeJweTe b t o h c , Birjiage. noxcaTiiit pyxH...qnji Bac layuHT nro-To HOBoe, H O HeoôbiKHOBeimoe, a HM eHHo h o b o c . B ycrax aroro uenoBexa h oGbiXHOBeHHaa (ppaaa aayHHT neM-To BemifM, xax 6bi xjiaqymeh rpaHb M excqy tc m , «rro Gbino, h t c m . « ito GyqcT. H b o t rorqa pemaeinb, «rro «lenoBex s t o t , m o jk c t Gbitb, GeccosHaTCJibHo noGbiBan na t o h BumeH To«ixe~H 3Ta (ppasa— luioq t o p o , « ito o h Gbui raw; ona oGbixHoaeHHa, norowy « ito 3 t o eme JieneT peôeHxa, h o ona cyjn tr. **...He TOJib xo xax oToGpasHTCJibHoe lepxano m h o p o apeHHH Bemeii, h o h xax npeoGpaxaiomyio CHJiy h o b o p o npoapenna. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 8 Ivanov and Kommissarzhevskaia also shared, to some extent, an emphasis on theater as an extra-ordinary event with spiritual overtones, and the necessity of psychological unity between audience and performer/creator for true art to take place. The actress’s emphasis on the power o f verbal intonation in the passage quoted above is consistent with her approach to the technique o f acting. A Dramatic Theater actor later recounted that Kommissarzhevskaia once offered to read multiplication charts from an adjoining room in order to prove her point that the emotive quality of the voice is more important for the actor than the words spoken (see Al’bom 1915:29-31 ). In her letter, the actress’s example o f the actor’s search for the right phrasing is not about technique but the meaning such phrasing has the potential to project. Kommissarzhevskaia also looked for significance in the dramatic work as a whole, with the recognition that she, as an artist, had to convey this understanding o f significance to her audiences. Yet unlike Ivanov’s revelry in ancient theatrical forms, Kommissarzhevskaia expressed her spiritual attitudes and views on the role o f the artist in society in Christian discourse. For the present, I would like to iterate two aspects o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s reliance on this religious discourse: martyrdom as a constant companion to creation, and the Christ story as model for a spiritual life. Both these images figure in a letter to Karpov from 1900: ...in tills moment ctemln is speaking with you tlirough me. Yes. yes. eternity, because my soul rarely is so tensed as it is now . and this consciousness is elicited not by something external or human, no. this is the voice of the Higher One. and woe to the one who does not answer my call at such a time...Do you now hear how my entire soul speaks these words, or. ratlicr. doesn't speak but is immersed in them to the very depths, and even deeper. Forget about everytliing. and with all thoughts and intentions of tlie soul and mind give yourself to art. serve it. as you can. how you can. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 9 but with your entire being...At times like tliis. I would like to be able to invert my soul and show you everytliing. to let you touch like Tliomas touched Christ’s wounds."^ In the passage, Kommissarzhevskaia used the force o f her convictions in an attempt to persuade her Alexandrine colleague to work with her on the theater she hoped to found. The reliance on Christian imagery to build her case suggests the strength o f these images for Kommissarzhevskaia and her intended reader. Though Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters to others contain similar explicit examples of religious conviction (see Chapter VI for further discussion), the selection above is a prime example of how a shared idiom can be introduced to evoke change. As has been previously noted, the discourse of Christian imagery in relation to Kommissarzhevskaia was, in turn, co-opted by theater critics who idealized and even canonized the actress as one driven, as Evreinov ( 1922:110) wrote, ’ ‘for the sake of religious suffering in the name of true art.”’* Throughout the twenty years o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s correspondences, the themes of self-sacrifice, service to the community, and religious fervor were criteria against which the actress judged the actions of others. Her un wavering devotion to these principles sometimes made her appear naive to those who felt less strongly; to others, she had the intensity of a religious zealot. Almost a decade * B 3T y M HHyxy BeuHocrt ro B o p H T c B u m h Meperi M en a. Ha, fla , B eu H o cT b . h o t o m v h t o peaxo m ob ayma SbiBaer ra x H a n p a x c c H a , xax cci!'tac...n aro coH H aH H c B b im a H o H e HCM-HH6yab noBepxHOCTHbiM, H eJioB eH ecK H M , Her, aro roaoc BbicuiHii, h rpex Towy. xro H e o t b c t h t Ha m o h npHSbiB b x aiq H o MHHyry—OibiuiHre jih Bbi ceftnac, xax b c h m o h avuia ro B o p H T 3 t h m h cnoBaMH, He roBopHT, OHa npoHHKHyra h m h b c h n,a ana h rjiy6xc eme. 3a6yabxe o6o BceM— BceMH noMbicjiaMH, noMbicJiaMH ayuiH, roaoBbi oraaMxecb HcxyccTBv, cjiyxcH T e eMy, xax yMeere, hcm yMeer, h o Becb, Becb...Bor xoraa xoxeaocb Ow HMerb B o iM o x c H o c rb BbiBepHyrb aymy h noxaaaxb BCK), aan> norporarb, xax th o M a xponui pany Xpiicra. * p a a H x p ecT H O H M yxH BO HMH H a c T O H U ie ro H c x y cc T B a Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 0 later, the Symbolist idiom would provide the conduit for the epistolary relationship between herself and Briusov, though these themes would remain unchanged. Yet in general, as much as the actress might have claimed that she was freed from conven tion—Maybe others live 'by the rules, ' but I absolutely do not recognize them ' (Karpov 1911:298)—her public and private images were in fact controlled by rules of artistic and social convention, and personal ideology. The purpose o f this review of the style and themes explored in Kommissarzhev skaia’s letters has been to emphasize the letter as private arena in which public issues and concerns influence literary style and personal philosophy: further textual analysis can be found in Chapter V. Letters such as these serve the dual function o f cultural (i.e., their function as “cultural artefacts’) and aesthetic text (as example of personal expres sion). In closing, I would like to mention the way in which one document in particular addressed the cultural climate that informed the actress’s writings as a whole. Unex pected and terse, the actress’s 1909 resignation announcement summed up perhaps the most critical event in her professional life. Yet she did not use her acting skills to convey its importance to her audience; and instead entrusted the public reading of the text to theater director Zonov. Kommissarzhevskaia’s choice o f medium reflected the literary focus o f the period and the actress’s own satisfaction with the art of writing. The details of its presentation were reviewed in Chapter II: o f significance here is the fact that the actress chose to reject the persuasive force of dramatic art and the sono rous voice for which she was famous. “The great emotion that I am experiencing * * M o s c e r 6 b i r b a p y r n e * H B y r " n o m aK O H aM ." H n % h x c o B c p u ie H H o H e n p H a n a i o . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 161 because o f what I am about to say would impede my ability to speak,” begins the opening phrase. “Therefore,” the actress continued, “I write. T o ôanbm oe BonHSHHe, KaKoe n ep ex H sy n, Kacastcb Toro, a ^l eM C K axy ceiN ac^ noM em ajio 6br u n e roBopuTb h n o r o u y m aiiy}^ By privileging the written text as a means o f verbal transmission, the actor underscored her relationship to the medium of writing as a means o f personal expression. In so doing, Kommissarzhevskaia thus aligned herself with the voices that gave the period its appellation, the Silver Age o f Russian literature. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 162 N o t e s t o C h a p t e r in 1. "ÜHcaTejib pacKpbiBaer ce6a b micbMax poBHO HacTOJitKo, H acK O jn>K O oh X O H C T , pHCyeT B H H X C B O H o6pa3 T O H H O T3K 3K e, K3K B JIK )6 0 M gCBHpe— oGpaS CBoero repoH" (Gasparov 1991:12). 2. de Man questioned authorial freedom in the autobiography: “Can we not suggest... that whatever the writer does is in fact governed by the technical demands o f self portraiture and thus determined...by the resources o f the medium?” Paul de Man, “Autobiography as De-facement” (in Jay 1984: 18). Jolly (1997) suggests a method for deconstructing authorship in autobiographical texts such as personal letters. 3. Stepanov (1963) also showed how the letters o f a closed social group seemed spontaneously engendered but were actually organized on stylistic and linguistic levels. Artistic organization, that is, a “mosaic-like” combination o f styles and topics, “created the “impression o f a writer’s personality.” Todd takes this identification a step further by referring to the “illusion o f intimacy” promoted in the Arzamas’ letters. (See Chapter I) 4. Kommissarzhevskaia may also have learned about Ruskin through her interaction with artists and performers associated with Savva Mamontov’s art colony, Abramstevo (with its interest in European Art Nouveau, William Morris etc.), his Private Opera, and the World of Art group (in particular Aleksandr Benois and Konstantin Somov). Benois (whose schoolboy group, the “Nevsky Pickwickians” had a pronounced anglophile orientation) designed the costumes for Kommissarzhevskaia’s 1908 production of Die Ahfrau: Somov designed several sets and the theater stationery. Private Opera singer Vasilii Shkafer (in Letters 186-191) had earlier studied with Fedor Petrovich and recalled meeting Kommissarzhevskaia during the company’s 1898 St. Petersburg tour. 5. For examples of Futurist book design, including a brief mention o f Symbolist writer and dramatist Aleksei Remizov, see Janacek ( 1984). Remizov’s personal letters exhibit pen work associated with medieval manuscript calligraphy style. 6. An interesting example is a letter to Karpov from July, 1895, prior to the actress’s debut with the Alexandrine Theater. The letter is an example o f terse epistolary business style; only the signature, “V.F. Kommissarzhevskaia,” sharply breaks the integrity of the handwritten text’s otherwise neat, parallel format. ” E. P. Karpovu ” (14 July 1895) LGTM kp. 6464/24 (printed version #15 in Letters 45). 7. “Iz dnevnika S.L Smimovoi-Sazonovoi,” in Letters 304. The novelist’s husband, N.F. Sazonov, was a leading actor in the Alexandrine Theater during the time of Komissarzhevskaia’s service. The actress performed with Maria Savina in Smimova- Sazonova’s 1899 play. The Deluge (Devialyi vat). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 16 3 8. Russian archives contain several examples o f Bernhardt’s letters, written mostly to Russian supporters and admirers on the occasion of her second, 1881, tour to Russia. These letters are discussed, in part, in my conference presentation. The Reception of Sarah Bernhardt’s First Russian T o u r 1881: New Archival Information,” Proceedings of the Women in Theater Conference. Hofstra University (October 1994). 9. For example, S.Pg. GPB f.634 op.l. Remizov, A.N. ed.khr. 113. Zonov, Arkadii Pavl. 1.153. 10. In this way, the reader was made directly aware of a change in the actress’s thought or the effect of a momentary distraction. Even more apparent as a marker o f spontaneity, and a reason for my parallel with Futurist typographic experimentation, is the actress’s disregard for the standard layout pattern of the letter page in those examples in which printed lines and margin space are completely ignored. (See E.P Karpovu” GTsTM No. 91783). 11. “ Iz dnevnika S.I. Smimovoi-Sazonovoi,” Letters 302 (entry for 19 October 1897). Aleksandr Mgebrov (1929:352) recalled a similar apartment disposition during a visit ten years later. At the time, Mgebrov and Kommissarzhevskaia were preparing the lead roles in the Dramatic Theater’s 1907 production of D’Annunzio’s Pel leas and Mélisande.. 12. Kommissarzhevskaia attempted to enlist Chekhov’s aid in getting the translation published, but Chekhov declined to write a review. See "A.P Chekhovu” (January 1899) #63 Letters 70. 13. Kommissarzhevskaia rejected Turkin’s offer for her to write something, preferring not to appear a dilettante ( Tz pis’ma N.V. Turkinu” ( 16 May 1894) #4 Letters 3) (quoted in Chapter 11). This reason may also have stanched any interest the actress might have had in play-writing later in life, although childhood accounts mention her authoring home theatricals. 14. Examples given are from letters to Karpov (“E.P. Karpovu” #19 Letters 64) and Chekhov (“A. P. Chekhovu” #59 Letters 69). These and similar usage o f the interjection “Du?” meaning “Okay?” or “You’ll do that, won’t you?” usually form the last sentence of the text, prior to the signature. 15. ” V.I. Nikulinu” (7 September 1894) #8 Letters 40-41:40. As in other examples, Kommissarzhevskaia ends the letter with the rhetorical question “Can you really under stand my scrawlsl(Neuzhe/r Fy razherete m oi karakuly?Y The parallel between words and fetters paraphrases Tiutchev’s poem, “Silentium,” an oft-quoted expression o f the Symbolist rejection of the notion that true emotion/experience can be conveyed by linguistic constructs such as words. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 4 16. In a letter to Khodotov from late 1902, Kommissarzhevskaia advised: “Work, work: take a role and fe e l, fe e l, a s i f th is had a ll happened to y o tr (PaôoTaHTe, paôoTaôTe: BoabMHTe pojib h ^yBCTByiire. vyBCTByure. k b k ô y p ro 3To Bce cjiyHUJiocb cB bm m ...vt Korqa coaceM yfrqeTe a 3TH crpaflaHHa. pa^ocTH, a xaoc H JiH noKoô, Torqa TOJibKo MoxccTe acnoMHHTb. hto 3to hc Bbi, hto oh flpyroft). “Iz pis’ma N. N. BChodotovu” (1-2 October 1902 ) #160 Letters 124. In his memoir, Khodotov (1932:233) later wrote that, “thanks to Kommissarzhevskaia, I began to feel, it seemed to me, the most significant aspects o f human experiencing” ( a craji HamyiibiaaTb, K aK mhc Kasajiocb, caMoe sHaMHTejibHoe a MejioaeMecicHx nepeacaaaHHax). 17. Kommissarzhevskaia maintained this position in a letter to Karpov, in which she . refused to perform the role o f Aglaia in a dramatization of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot because, in her opinion, the stage role only minimally reflected the depth o f character presented in the novel ("E.P. Karpovu" (October 1898) #69 Letters 72). Her commitment to the written text and antipathy to the premise o f a “director’s theater” would later form part o f her theoretical disagreement with Meierkhol’d. 18. Excerpts from Smimova-Sazonova’s journal have been published. See “Iz dnevnika S.L Smimovoi-Sazaonovoi,” Letters 299-314. According to editorial notes accompanying this selection, Smimova-Sazonova’s interest in Kommissarzhevskaia began to wane when the actress relinquished her stature as a rising star at the Alexandrine Theater to order to further support the Neo-Realist progressive work of Gorkii and lushkevich in her own theater. Smimova-Sazonova’s reactionary politics undoubtedly also contributed to the writer’s cooled attentions toward Kommissarzhevskaia after 1905. 19. For example, in an early letter to Sergei Tatishchev, Kommissarzhevskaia wrote that “the reason you have given me could never force me to change the direction in which I am moving, following my life’s first, fundamental, and insistent goal— service to art.” (npennojiaraeMaa Bumh npH^tHHa KHKorfla ne Morjia ribi sacraaHTb Mena H SM CHH Tb HanpaajieHHe nyrH, no KOTopoMy h Hgy, npeacneaya nepayK), rjiaanyK) h HacroaTejibHyFo uejib Moeft JK H SH H — cjiyjKeHHe HCKyccray ) (“S.S. Tatishchevu" (late Dec 1895) #27 Letters 53). A subsequent marriage proposal from the conservative publicist similarly had no effect on the actress’s convictions. 20. "Iz pis’ma E.P. Karpovu” (mid July 1900) #86 Letters 82-83. In this and similar letters written over the next three years Kommissarzhevskaia tried to engage her former Alexandrine director in the work of her new theater. 21. Kommissarzhevskaia’s resignation statement has been published in several venues. See, for example, “Truppe teatra,” Letters 177. Alkonost 1286-3711 contains a facsimile o f the handwritten original and a description o f the troupe’s response by D’iakonov. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 165 IV. Symbolist Eidolon (The Kommissarzhevskaia-Briusov Correspondence) There are only about twenty extant letters written by Kommissarzhevskaia to the acknowledged leader o f the Symbolist movement, Valerii Briusov, but their content best illustrates the influence o f meta-literary influences on epistolary self-representation. In this chapter, I analyze the epistolary or, rather, ‘textual’ relationship between Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov, since the poet often responded in verse to the actress’s letters. The Silver Age interest in myth creation is apparent in Briusov’s idealization o f Kommissarzhevskaia in his verse to her, illustrating what Senelick (1980) refers to as the ‘eidolization’ o f Kommissarzhevskaia: For their contemporaries, [stage divas such as Kommissarzhevskaia. BemhardL D\sse-klm\ were more than actresses, more even titan spectacular celebrities: they were at once the incarnation and the epitome of a refined sensibility that dwelt in transcendent spheres ..Artists and poets projected on to tliem fantasies and obsessions which, refiltered tlirough tlieir perfonnances on stage, inspired new aesthetic creativity. (Senelick 1980:475) In this specific example o f agency and cultural influences, the correspondence between poet and actress continued as long as the relationship remained mutually beneficial. After a brief history o f this relationship, I will discuss their correspondence’ within the context o f Symbolist discourse. Their letters and poetry were written between early fall, 1907, and January, 1909; a period that also marks Briusov’s involvement with Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater. The actress and poet first became acquainted most likely during Kommissarzhevskaia’s 1902 Moscow engagement: Briusov wrote a mildly critical review o f her premiere in Maeterlinck’s Monna Vanna. The poet would later enter in his Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 166 Journal a series o f enigmatic phrases: “ 1907, Fall, 1908, Spring. Acquaintance, friendship, and closeness {sblizhenie) with Kommissarzhevskaia. Intense (pstrye) days and hours” (Briusov 1927:139). This skeletal outline o f events and emotions is reflected in the letters and poetry that constitute their correspondence. As discussed earlier, Briusov's 1902 article, “Unnecessary Truth” (Ae/n/2/fwa/a/;rav£/a) had established the poet and dramatist as a proponent o f non-naturalistic performance. . Although these views would subsequently be modified, he continued to argue against naturalism and for a symbolic realist theater. It is possible that Briusov saw the Dramatic Theater as an arena in which to test his theories on drama and performance, much as Vsevolod Meierhol’d had before him. Meierkhol’d had in fact worked with Briusov at Stanislavisky’s Theater Studio, and it is possible that the poet's early theories influenced Meierkhol’d’s Symbolist experiments at the time.^ As Volynskii had come to the aid of the first Dramatic Theater, Briusov now appeared during a time o f financial and ideological crisis; Briusov likewise participated in decisions of the theater’s literary section for a short period. Although generally circumspect, passages in Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters (and Briusov’s mention of “intense days and hours”) suggest their relationship developed an intimate aspect, but their close relationship waned after Briusov retired from the Dramatic Theater. Schuler (1992:238) detected a “pathological” element in Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters to Briusov in the fact that the actress often signed these letters with the name “Beatrice,” one of her signature roles (Maeterlinck’s Sister BeatriceV The observation is perhaps somewhat exaggerated: the name “Beatrice ” figures most prominently in Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 7 Kommissarzhevskaia’s correspondence with Briusov. but she similarly used stage personae and pen names in separate correspondences to her leading men (e.g., “TeacheriX^/c/f/te/") in letters to Aleksei Feona; “Melisande” for Vladimir Podgomyi; for Khodotov, she was “Light” (Svet). At any rate, this compositional detail also suggests the importance her stage roles had for the actress as behavioral models, and their presence in her real life texts added to later biographical confosion as to the boundary between the actress’s art and reality. Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters to Briusov provide information concerning this period in theater history and when analyzed as a whole, the actress’s letters combined with Briusov’s poetic responses provide us with an example o f the early twentieth century emphasis on cultural modeling. As leading representatives o f the literary and stage arts, Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov shared a common culture, and the drama of the period, its types and language, formed the construct for their literary relationship. Senelick (1980) focuses only on Kommissarzhevskaia as Symbolist eidolon; however, her letters to the poet project images similar to two antithetical dramatic types of the period: the passive, equivocal heroine popularized especially in the dramas of Maeterlinck (e.g., Beatrice and Mélisande), and the dynamic, purposeful New Woman epitomized in Ibsen’s plays. Whereas some of the actress’s letters to Briusov convey the active, dynamic voice of Ibsen’s powerful heroines, it was indeed the Symbolist idiom that largely mediated their working as well as epistolary relationship. Initiated in the texts of the Symbolist plays in which the actress performed, and developed in the poet’s own verse creations, the idiom shaped their personal letters to one another. In Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 168 her letters to Briusov Kommissarzhevskaia presented persona using both o f these “voices,” but for very different purposes. Through this analysis I hope to show that by working within their linguistic culture, Kommissarzhevskaia nonetheless also used this system as a vehicle to maintain a desired relationship. Indeed, it is the tension created between the two conflicting voices in her letters that gives this epistolary romance its particular resonance as a literary text. Even after her foray into Symbolist drama, Kommissarzhevskaia's most popular roles remained her earliest ones: freedom-loving young women, fettered by the demands of life and society, coming o f age through hardship and self-sacrifice. Her realistic acting technique provided audiences and critics with new, fresh interpretations of popular roles (e.g., Ostrovskii’s Larisa (The Dowervless Bride), Varya (Child of Nature), and Negina (Career Woman). Sudermann’s Rosie (Fight o f the Butterflies)). The vitality with which she infused these roles inspired Osip Mandelshtam to ask, in his review of Kommissarzhevskaia as Nora in Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. “Why, alongside her [Kommissarzhevskaia], did Savina seem to be an expiring grande dame, exhausted by a shopping trip?”(Mandel’shtam 1965:124 ).’■ Audiences responded to the first Dramatic Theater’s naturalist and realist repertory (e.g., Gorkii, Sergei Naidenov, Evgenii Chirikov; Ibsen) as a political statement, and Kommissarzhevskaia (even when she did not perform) was perceived as the movement’s leader. * noqewy CasHHa p M R O M c Heft K a s a n a c b ywHpaiomeft S a p b i n e f t , p a ^ o M J i e e u i e f t n o c n e FocriiHoro flBopa? Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 169 Upon leaving the company o f the Alexandrine Theater in 1902, Kommissarzhevskaia’s repertory increasingly resembled that o f Eleonora Duse, with whom the Russian actress was often compared. Ibsen’s plays heavily figured in the Italian tragedieime’s repertory, and Schuler (1996:166) thereby concluded that in this way Kommissarzhevskaia’s public perception as New Woman was codified/ Yet it is not surprising that types o f the New Woman, who was able to declare [her] right to create a new life” (Aleksandra Kollontai, in Rudnitskii 1965:62) appealed to the actress’s young audiences as much as they did to the actress herself The actress had, after all, ‘created a new life’ for herself as a stage actress after a disastrous marriage as a stage actress and was in the process of recreating herself as theater entrepreneur. Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting style seemed particularly conducive to the roles of Nora in Ibsen’s A Doll’s House fNoral and Hilda (The Master Builder). Sister actress Mariia Andreeva also acknowledged Kommissarzhevskaia’s facility with the role: “Have you seen “Nora”? If you have a minute, tell me your impressions of Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting. I’ll probably play this role, and I’d like to know how she performs it.”^ For contemporaries, Nora was “a symbol o f the suffering o f women: a protest against daily conventions, against our bourgeois “family hearth.”® Rather than acquiescing to societal or familial behavioral requirements, Ibsen’s New Woman expressed and acted upon her own personal desires. Yet the New Woman type was only one aspect o f Russian Silver Age female types. The seeming contradiction in dramatic types that gained popularity during this time belied not so much a complacent theater audience, but the very nature o f Russian Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 0 tum-of-the-century cultural life. Matich (1994) defined the early twentieth century is characterized by its “cultural syncretism,” that is, the blending o f various and varied forms of art and conduct, this tendency also characterized Kommissarzhevskaia’s repertory. Rudnitskii (1965:51) described Kommissarzhevskaia’s dual “constant artistic themes” ( vechnye akterskie temy ) in a similarly syncretic fashion: her positivist “belief in the future” {yera v budushchee ) complemented the contradictory blend o f “anxiety and hope” (Jtrevoga i nadezhda ) that likewise motivated her actions. On a broader plane, these attributes could also define the diapason o f artistic themes at the turn of the century, ranging from the visualization o f a revolutionary future to impending apocalypse. Perhaps Rudnitskii was also referring to the intensity with which Kommissarzhevskaia promoted abstract, symbolic drama in her theater when he labeled the second component o f his equation “anxiety and hope. ” The actress found such expression in the mystical “theater of the soul” of the Belgian symbolist Maeterlinck and the miniature dramas o f Polish poet Stanislaw Przybyszewski. (Although her theaters staged plays by Russian Symbolist playwrights such as Alexander Blok, Leonid Andreev, and Alexei Remizov, Kommissarzhevskaia herself did not perform in them.) Works by the Belgian and Polish playwright spoke to the world o f feelings and mood; that “mysterious art” that Yeats described as having the ability to express the emotions of the soul (see Frontispiece to this dissertation). Maeterlinck’s plays, with their female types embodying self-sacrifice and love, entered into the actress’s repertory around 1903. Two years later, in the first Dramatic Theater Kommissarzhevskaia performed Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 171 Ibsen and Maeterlinck along with plays from the naturalist/realist spectrum. Thus, at the same time she was performing as Ibsen’s iron women, Kommissarzhevskaia was also performing the delicate, half-woman/half-child types from Symbolist dramaturgy. The significance o f these two artistic types was not relegated to a space beyond the footlights; their influence also permeated into the creation o f the self in the actress’s private letters. As Jakobson’s (1990:73) well-known communication model suggests, a code or common language, is necessary in order for a message to be intelligible to the addressee or intended audience. In our example, the code is the cultural environment that Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov shared. Thus, the frame o f their epistolary relationship was formed by the types, images, and language o f the new drama o f the period and the artistic milieu’s fascination with life creation. Briusov maintained a public image as the embodiment o f the Symbolist Poet, and this pose carried over into the language and style o f his personal letters to Kommissarzhevskaia, among others. Conversely, Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary pose(s) stemmed from two opposing dramatic types: the dynamic, pragmatic New Woman as popularized in Ibsen’s plays, and the passive, self-sacrificing heroine of Maeterlinck’s dramas. In her new social position as theater directrisse, the actress’s interest in production extended beyond the script and the potential o f a successful play. In one letter, written to Vsevolod Meierkhol’d in the summer of 1907 prior to the opening of the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater, Kommissarzhevskaia succinctly voiced her belief in Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 2 the accessability o f these two very different dramatists for her audiences and especially the message o f Ibsen’s ‘world view’: During this time Maeterlinck lias become all the more strong, all the more wonderful forme, and I liave begun to love Ibsen in a completely new way ...It is now clear to me that no actor can perform nor can a director stage Ibsen without knowing him entirely, that is. not only lus dramas, but also his pliilosophy. His personality is so closely tied to his world view and Iris work tliat. by not knowing the one. you can never umferstand tlie otlier." (# 2 4 7 L etters 164) Just as the actress juxtaposed the names o f the two playwrights in the opening line of the letter, this counter balancing of opposing dramatic impulses also marks the shift between Ibsen and Maeterlinck that took place in the actress’s performance history especially during the first years of her theaters. For example, whereas in the letter the actress ostensibly draws a parallel between the two dramatists, the majority of the text is devoted to a discussion o f the merits o f performing the active, dynamic females roles found in Ibsen’s plays. Kommissarzhevskaia’s primary signature role was Nina Zarechnaia, the first Russian Symbolist heroine (discussed in Chapter V), and the actress and her public strongly identified her with this role. Kommissarzhevskaia had been performing in Maeterlinck’s short pieces since the first years o f the century. From 1903, the New Woman o f Ibsen’s social dramas caught her attention, and she began to perform in these plays during her first Dramatic Theater’s first season ( 1905-06).® * Eipe CHJibuee, eme npexpacHee cran ajia m c h h l a 3 T o B peM H MerepjiHHR n coBcew no-HOBOM y nojuoSuaa a HGceua... M acHo b o m h c renepb, u t o h h o R M U axrep He m o j k c t wrpaTb h h h oflH H peacHccep nocraBHTb M6ceHa. noxa He yrjuaer ero Bcero, t o ccrb H e roubKo ero apawbi, a ero MupocosepnaHHe. JlHHHocrb ero rax t c c h o cnura b h c m c ero TBopuecTBOM, uro. He inaa oqHoro, Hejibsa nouyBCTBOBaTb apyroro. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 17 3 Although Kommissarzhevskaia never stated exactly her concept o f Ibsen's world view, we can reconstruct her meaning from the way in which she chose Ibsen pieces precisely when she needed to take a public stand on issues o f personal values. For example, she chose to perform as Nora in A Doll’s House (also called Nora in the Russian version) following her theater's scandalous break with Meierkhoi’d in order to show her public that, upon his abrupt dismissal from her company, the “pulse o f her theater had not weakened, even for a second,”' as she wrote in a November 1907 letter to Briusov (#250 Letters 167). She also performed Nora the day after the actress was publically vindicated following a court battle with the director. In January 1908 Kommissarzhevskaia performed Hilda (The Master Builder! a role that she had premiered three years before. The timing of this performance, on the eve of the actress’s departure for an extended world tour including Europe and America, served to leave her public with the image o f an energetic, determined woman, setting forth on her own.voyage. A year later, Kommissarzhevskaia presented her 100"' performance of Nora, which was her last St. Petersburg production. As my earlier (Chapter I) discussion o f the perception-forming potential o f final performances suggested, Kommissarzhevskaia’s Nora left Peterburgians with the powerful image of an individual willing to give up the secure and familiar in her quest for self-identity. * ...a He xony, a He Mory, HTofibi xotb na ceKyn^y boshhkjio npeflnojiojiceHHe o T O M , H T O c yxoflOM MeHepx[ojibfla] nycJibc ocjiaOeji. oh aoJKKen aaÔHTbca cHJibHee. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 174 In 1904, Kommissarzhevskaia’s public status expanded from popular actress to actress-theater entrepreneur, and at this time her letters to colleagues become increasingly pragmatic in tone (an aspect of what I am calling the “Ibsenesque” epistolary voice). Nonetheless, her letters are generally marked by their conversational tone; a request or even a demand is usually couched in a dialogic mode that engages the reader by its seeming informality Many of her letters to Briusov share these general characteristics. A case in point is a letter from early summer. 1907 (one o f her first letters to the poet). The letter begins in médias res much like the continuation o f a broken conversation. T have a request for you, Valerii Iakovlevich.” she wrote in a short note: My theater opens in St. Petersburg on 15 September with Wedekind’s Awakening of Soring. We’re perlbnning Wedekind for the first time. I want this to be interesting and comprehensible, and [ need your help. You love Wedekind, you keenly understand him...HeIp us to stage this piece. Come to St. Petersburg and talk to my theater about Wedekind and the play. {#246 Letters 164) y M eH fl npocbfia, Banepml JlK O RiieBtnr. k Bhm: rearp c b o h b fleTepfiypre a OTKpbiBaio 15 cefrraGpa nbccoft BegeKHnaa " nporiyKgeHHc BecHbt." Tearp craBHT BeqeKHHaa nepBbin pa;. XoueTca, 'iToribt 3T t> 5buio HHrepecHo, stpKo. H M H e Hyaena Bama noMoutb. Bbi n io f iH T e BeaeKHnaa. Bbt 'ly B C T B y e r e ero apKo... noM orare naw b nocranoBKe arou b c u i h —npiteaacaHTe b flcTepfiypr cKaaaTb b n a i n e M x e a rp e n e c K O J ib K o c j i o b o BeKeKHHae n ori axoft ero B e u t b . She turns to Briusov as a respected authority on Symbolist literature and drama, and seeks the interpretation o f the literary text as well as his help in the stage production of the piece. Yet rather than framing her requests by the use of interrogatives, Kommissarzhevskaya employs a series o f repeated imperatives: “Help... Come... Talk.” These repeated imperatives, combined with the lack o f detail she provides in order to encourage the poet’s visit, perhaps imply that the actress expected a positive response Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 175 from her reader In this first missive to Briusov. the actress’s proposal is directly and purposefully conveyed by verbal imperatives that by nature lack the tentativeness or hesitancy associated with interrogative structures. The letter is written in the public voice o f the professional theater director wishing to promote her theater by eliciting the aid o f an influential colleague. At this time Briusov declined her request/ though he later periodically advised the Dramatic Theater’s literary committee. Kommissarzhevskaia made use o f the unambiguous discourse o f Ibsen’s heroines in letters in which she negotiated business for her theater or professional career. In a letter to Briusov from early November 1907, the actress directly expressed her hesitancy at overtly passive roles. “I don’t want to perform the role o f Silvia in [D’Annunzio’s] La Giaconda. she writes, “I can contend with my own apathy towards D’Annunzio, but there’s no way I can force myself at the present time to perform a role in which there is so much passivity (this isn’t quite the right word).”* In this letter, Kommissarzhevskaia elucidates her request (that Briusov help her find a translator for another of the Italian dramatist’s plays) in a direct, insistant manner, not unlike the way in which Hilda, in a climactic scene from Ibsen’s The Master Builder, demands, “My castle! On the table! Now!” [Act HI]. Actually, according to the letter, Kommissarzhevskaia was indeed able “to ovecome her antipathy towards d’Annunzio: Right now I need the following: to find someone to translate Francesca in 10 days. The translator must first of all provide me with the dramatist's remarks at the beginning of each act and send them to me as soon as possible. [f you think this is possible, telegraph me immediately. I must do the impossible because at the present time there is no other direction in which I can turn... Tltank you for fulfilling my requests. (#249 L etters 166) Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 6 Mae aeoGxoRHM O ceAnac cjieqywmee: aaHTH Koro-HHôynb, k t o nepesen 6bi "<I»painiecKy" b aeom . naeü. Flpexqe scero nepeaonaHK aoaacea nepesecTH pewapKH. HMefomaeca s aaaaae Kaxcaoro aicra. a sbicnaTb ax Mae kbk Moacao cKopee. Ecjia Bbi ayMaere. * i t o 3 t o aesoaMoacao— Tejierpaijjyare Mae aeMewieaao— a AOJiacaa 6yqy caenaTb aeB03Moacaoe. noroMV m t o Gojibuie aer ceAaac cropoa, b Kaaae aanpaBarbca... 9 6jiaroaapio Bac aa acnoaaeaae Muax npucb5a. The standard syntax patterns and lack of rhetorical or poetic devices are characteristic o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s “Ibsenesque” letters, that is, letters that project a tone of directness, willfiilness, and action. In other letters o f this kind, the essence of the message is concisely explained, as in a formal business letter. The uncompromising tone o f the body of the letter ascribes a somewhat demanding edge to the closure’s premature thanks. In the following example, a letter written in early December o f the same year, 1907, Kommissarzhevskaia related her need for a translation o f Oscar Wilde’s Salome. (The actress hoped to mount a version of the controversial play in early Fall of 1908). The repetition of imperative forms and words graphically emphasized through underlining intensify the letter’s insistent and conspiratorial tone: Write me tin's minute and let me know iffMixail Fedorovich| Likiard[opulo| has already translated Salonie...ir yes, then I need to submit it to the censors right awav...I need to know this iniinediaiclv. Don't tell anyone about this meanwhile... Don’t discuss my plans for tlie next year with anyone.... (#255 Letters 170) HaoHUiHTe m h c ceA'iac ace, nepeneji an yxce JlHKiiapa[onyao| «CanoMeio"...EcjTH «a— naflo neMenaeHHo npeqcraBHTb b ueHcypbi...MHe naqu 3TO 3HaTb HeMenaeHHo...H H K i>M V ni)Ka...He roBtjpnre o6 s t o m . . . O nnaHax m o h x na riyaym m i rng ne roBopirre hh c xew. . . . This pragmatic, insistent, business tone dominated Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters to Briusov written during the fall of 1907, at the beginning of their joint work. As early as Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 7 November, 1907, Kommissarzhevskaia turned to Briusov as a counselor and ally in the concerns of her theater. Among Kommissarzhevskaia and her staff there was growing displeasure with Meierkhol’d’s acting and staging experiments, and with the direction in which he was leading the Dramatic Theater. The triad of Briusov, Meyehold, and Kommissarzhevskaia was turning into an increasingly polarized relationship, with Briusov and Kommissarzhevskaia supporting the integrity of the actor, and Meierkhol’d staunchly adhering to his staging in favor of static theater. “I beg you to read Meier[khord’s] letter in today’s edition of R us begins a letter in which the actress describes in detail to Briusov the reasons that led to her decision to dismiss the controversial director. I beg you to give me advice immediately: my first impulse was to write him an answer, but I tliink that it might be better to respond to his challenge. 1 beg you. as soon as you receive this letter, send me a telegram with your advice regarding what I should do. H npoiny Bac npo'iecrb nucbMii Mefieplxojibaaj b cerogHJUUHeM Howepe "PycH "...B npouiy Bac HeMcflJicuHi) a a r b m h c c o b c t : n e p B o c noriyjKacHHc y M C H H 6biJio H a rtH c a T b cMy c i t b c t , h h a ayMak). 'iT t> Jiyniue npHHBTb e r o B b i a o s . S oneHb Bac n p o u i y , H e M c a n e H H o n o n o n y n c H H H M a T o r o n n c b M a T C Jie rp a M M O H COOSUHHTC M HC BaUI CO BCT, KHK n o C T y H H T b . In her discussion of recent events in her theater, the actress sets out point by point both Meierkhol’d’s argument and again her response to the argument. By the end of the letter the tone shifts from the pragmatic, as the actress uses imagery in order to emphasize her emotional state: If you only knew my situation. It's as if some spider has me in his interminable, sticky, clawing clutches: I know tlial 1 can fling them off. but 1 also know that they should never liave been laid on me in the first place, and it makes me sick to have to touch them. (#252 L etters 168-169) Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 17 8 ...Ecjih 6bi Bbi 3HaJiH Moe cocrosiHHe. Metut onyrajiH KaKHe-To Jianbi naywa GecKOHeiHbie. JiHnioje, uenKHe; a iHaio. «iTo M o ry cffpocHTb hx. ho 3Haio TafOKe, H TO O H M HHKOrna He noJiaCHbl SblJIH Ha M He 6blTb. If M H C npOTHBHO ncrrpoHyTbca ro hhx.„. Neither Kommissarzhevskaia’s carefully-outlined reasons nor her simile seem to have swayed Briusov’s sentiments in this regard. The poet had indeed read Meierkhol’d’s published letter^ but did not share the actress’s point o f view. In her response, written a few days later, Kommissarzhevskaia responded vehemently to Briusov’s accusations of her not being politic in regard to Meierkhol’d, and sharply rebuked the poet for taking Meierkhol’d’s side: What are you accusing inc of? I only know one thing; when I think about the vulgarity which I am now involuntarily coming in contact witlu when I think about the baseness and pettiness with which that person who is suing me for breach of honoi^ is filled, when I tliink about the evil that he can do to me because he'll go to any lengths, then I ask myself whether I wasn't right when I decided to answer him at our first falling out that "theater etiquette"— the rules of which are so important to him— means nothing to me. and what's important to me is solely my own. person, artistic will. ( ( 10 November 1907?) in Chronicle 376-378) B HCM 3 K e Bbt MCHH BHH UTC? H 3H aK > O flH O : K O P g a a gyM H K ) O TOM noiU JIO C T H , CO K O T O p o H St HCBOJIbHO C O n p H K a c a iO C b C eH U aC . O TO M H H 3K O M , M eJiK O M , H eM H c n o JiH C H M eJioBcK. H a " c y a Mecrn" c K o r o p b i M a Bbfxoxy. o me. K O T O pO e OH, B K O H Ite K O H ItO B . CMCHKCT tip ffH H H H T b M H C . H e 6 p e 3 r u H H H K aK H M H c p e g c T B a M H . a a v M a i o , n e n p a n a j i h a 6 b f J ia , K o r g a b n e p B O M n o p b i B e p e iU H J ia O T B C T H T b e M y , 'i T o " T e a T p a ji b H a a s T H K a —gna M e n a c n o o a H e 3 B y » ia m H e , tip a B H J ia 3 TO H 3 T H K H e M y B a a c H b i. a M H e B a a c H b i t o j i b k o B e a H u a x y g o X H H K a b o M H e In this letter, the actress registered her indignance at a perceived disservice to her character, brought about by Meierkhol’d’s lawsuit against her. The "spider” of the previous extract has been given a name, “vulgarity,” and Kommissarzhevskaia seems to be protesting both Meierkhol’d’s artistic platform and his method o f attack. The actress Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 179 stands by her previous convictions, using language that is assertive and aggressive and, as such, at risk o f alienating her correspondent. At the same time as Kommissarzhevskaia was performing the roles o f Ibsen's “women of steel"— Nora, Hilda, and Hedda— the actress was also bringing to the stage quite opposite types: the heavenly Beatrice (Sister Beatrice! and the passionate Mélisande fPelléas and Mélisande V characters from Maeterlinck’s theater o f the soul. The staging of the two dramatic types alternated in the staging history o f the Dramatic theater and in the history o f the actress’s personal repertory. For example, Kommissarzhevskaia premiered as Hedda in Ibsen’s play less than two weeks before she was to enjoy her first success as Sister Beatrice.^ The individual themes o f these two plays in particular contrast as sharply as the language used by the playwrights: the privileging of self and personal freedom, the privileging of universal ideals and the sacrifice of self. Kommissarzhevskaia was in rehearsal for both Hedda Gabier and Sister Beatrice when Briusov came to Petersburg for the first time at the actress’s request (early fall, 1907). In her letter o f invitation (see page 175, above), the actress had only partially expressed her reasons for the poet’s visit. Kommissarzhevskaia probably intended to further involve the poet in the artistic life of her theater by encouraging him to participate in the “Saturdays ’ {Subhotnye) she had organized to acquaint her company with the latest developments in world and Russian art, literature, and theater. As discussed in Chapter II, the “Saturdays ’ brought together actors, artists, poets, and writers in a setting not unlike that o f the traditional literary salon. Thus, the elite Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 180 environment of the “Saturdays” functioned as conveyer o f a cultural code: the cohesive atmosphere of the gathering o f the select contained its own discourse, shared by the participants. At this first meeting, the code encompassed Ibsen and Maeterlinck: Briusov recited his poetry against a backdrop of wet scenery panels from upcoming productions of Hedda Gabier and Sister Beatrice. Indeed, the setting of the Dramatic Theater’s first “Saturday” seems a fitting frame for the play o f discourse that subsequently was enacted in the actress and poet’s correspondence. It is perhaps from this initial encounter that Kommissarzhevskaia took her pen name for her Briusov correspondence, Beatrice, but their exemplary co-production was the Dramatic Theater production of Pelléas and Mélisande. which Briusov had translated for Kommissarzhevskaia (premiere 10 October 1907). A few days before her opening as the all-suffering, all-loving Mélisande, Kommissarzhevskaia encouraged Briusov to attend the premiere. In an interesting literary lour de force, the actress writes her upcoming performance as Mélisande through the “voice” of another character: Saturday. I'm writing in the theater. Beatrice is sad that she caused you pain, but it couldn't be otherwise. All my life's hours now are given over to Melisande. but...this "but" sufTocates me so much that I can't. I don't want to tell you about it using lifeless words. 1 really don't want to ask you whether you are coming, but 1 want to know this as soon as possible. Thank you for the one line of your letter. Beatrice. Tomorrow. Monday, and Tuesday are dress rehearsals, the It)'"— the first p e r f o r m a n c e . ((6 October 1907) in Chronicle 267) C y r if ic r a . 51 t m u i y b r e a r p e . E e a r p n c e rp y c T H o , « i t o o n a n p u M H H R n a B a w BOJii>, HO H H a u e H e M o r jio f ib iT b . B e e u a c b t M o e tt 3KH.3HH o r q a H b t c e H i a c M e jiH s a H fle . h o . . . s t o " h o " T a x g aB H T M e n a , ' i t o a H e M o r y . H e x o u y e x a a a T b B a M o HCM HeacHBbiM H cjio B aM H . Mne H e o u e T c a e n p a iu M B a T b Be, n p H e g e r e nn B b t , HO a x o u y a r o a n a x b c K o p e i t . 51 f i n a r o g a p i o B a c t a o g H y c r p o x y B a i u e r o itM C bw a. B e a r p H c a . Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 181 3aBTp&. noHenejibHHK. h BTopHiiK— reHeparii.HHic penerHUHH, 10— nepBoe npeflcraBJieHHe. As Briusov began to take a more active role in literary decisions o f the Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater, it is not surprising that images o f Mélisande and Beatrice began to dominate their shared idiom. On his part, he provided the theater with analysis and translations o f European Symbolist dramas; the actress, while she did not perform in all the plays produced in her theater, did reserve for herself the title role in Symbolist plays that Briusov translated for her. In his translation o f Pelléas and Mélisande. Briusov applied chant-like rhythms, word and sound repetitions, parallel constructions, and other poetic devices to replicate the language o f the “unseen and the unheard,” the “conversation o f the soul” suggested in the verse o f the Maeterlinck original. The short, clipped phrases, liberal use of repetition, and vague imagery, were intended to relay the soul’s trepidation as it searched for meaning, or the state of suspended inaction as it waiting for meaning to be revealed. One reviewer’s account reveals how closely Kommissarzhevskaia-Mélisande followed the tenor o f Briusov’s translation: Mélisande is one of the most diflicult roles. Mélisande speaks little, in short phrases, sometimes only in exclamations, but she experiences a profound tragedy and she passes tluougli Hre) wliirhrinds of the most diverse emotions. In her brief lines V.F. Koinmissarzlie\'skaia was able to make known and make tangible all that this soul in torture was experiencing.' ((lolos Moskvy! ( 1 3 October 1907Iin Chronicle 3701 * MejiHsaHfla— oflHa H 3 TpygHeMUiHX pojien. MenHaanga r«Bt»pur m^ uio, KopoTKHM H (ppaaaMH, HHorga ogH H iM H BocKJiHitaHMaMH, H O oHa nepejKHBacT cjioJKHyto xparegHio, ona npoxogHT nepex orHeHHbie BM xpH cawbix paaHooripaaHbix 'ivBCTB. B.tp. KoMHccapjKeBCKaa cyweJia b cbohx M ajieHbKHX pemtHKax garb noHJiTb, gaxb M V B C T B O B aT b bcc nepeiKHToc an m gyiuoH b MyneHHH. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 18 2 Kommissarzhevskaia’s disjoined epistolary style (see Chapter III) was perhaps influenced by this language o f ‘short phrases, exclamations, and diverse emotions.’ Into the early part of 1908 Symbolist discourse dominated their correspondence. The following example is replete with the mystical, vague imagery and allusion found in Maeterlinck’s dreamy linguistic world. In January, 1908, en route to her American tour, the actress penned an abstract note to her Poet: Atlantic Ocean. Tuesday. I don't (eel like talking. 1 feel like sending some words over the ocean. 0 \'er this enormous, iinquietly-quiet ocean. Rather undesirable in its endlessness. Let tliese words witliout words go on. Tliey will go a long. long way. So long, that tlie desire to send them almost bursts. Beatrice I received your telegram. ((February 1908?) in Chronicle 388) ATJiaHTH'iecKHH oKean. Btuphhk. He xouercjt r o B o p H T b nnnero. XoHexcji nocJiaTb xaKHe-HHriyab cnona uepen oKean. Hepea 3Tot conceM orpoMHbiH 6ecnoKoHHo-cnoKOHHbiH OKean. KaKoii-To HexceJianHbiir b cBoeif 6ecKOHe<iHocTH. Flycrb nayr cnooa riea cjiob. O hh noiiayr aojiro. aojiro. Tax flojiro, H T O no'iTH ofipbiBaeTCH xorenne nocnaxb nx. BeaxpHca. TejierpaMwy a noJiyxHJia. The stylistic and linguistic markers o f Maeterlinckean Symbolist discourse had by this point in their relationship entrenched themselves in the actress’s epistles to the poet. Yet the actress-writer also played with that discourse. In this letter, the juxtaposition o f opposites— don’t feel like/feel like {nc khochetsia khocheisia), huge ocean/undesirable in its endlessness {pgromnyi okean nezhelannyi v - svoei hczkonechnosti)\ words will go a long way/so long that the desire bursts / idul slova Jolgo lak dolgo, chto khotenie obryvaetsia)— s& Q m s to cancel out both components of the pair. Indeed, the vivid image o f a mood ‘bursting’ seems to undermine the somnambulate meter of the text, its hypnotic repetition of words and phrases. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 183 Contemporaries such as Briusov were to a great extent responsible for the idolization that ensued during and after the actress’s death, and there is reason to suspect, as Schuler (1996:165) iterates, that Kommissarzhevskaia was indeed “complicit in the creation of her own legend”: presentation o f self in these letters is a case in point. Only in letters to Briusov at this time does Kommissarzhevskaia use the Symbolist idiom so completely and effectively, and the persuasive use o f this idiom is one o f the ways in which Kommissarzhevskaia contributed to her own ‘"created legend” (Sologub). A letter from early November, 1907, indicates the closeness’ {sblizhenie) to which Briusov was perhaps alluding in his previously-mentioned journal entry. Couched in their shared idiom, the actress by now likened their relationship to that o f muse and Poet; It's not rigliL it's not right, it's not right— that's what I say. I will wait. I will hear before you do the approach of the hour when you. excruciatingly Joyful, will place in my outstretched hands the creation that I have fated. You will hear before I do the approach of tite hoimwhen the song to which you have given birth— wonderful in its newness— will bring you my voice. How 1 want to throw back your head and show you the abyss such as you have never seen it. I send my breath to your work. May it waft over the first pages. Beatrice. (in Chronicle 373) He enpane, ne nnpaee, ue Bnpane-roBopio h sr. 5 1 riygy 5K«aTb. PaHbiue Bac s r ycjibiiuy opuGarcKenne uaca, Korga Bbt MyuuTenbHo-paqocTHo noJioîKHTe Ha m o h npoTsrHVTbie pvKH coaflauHe oripenennoro m h o h . Panbtne w eH sr Bbt ycnbriurrre npHffaaceHHe uaca. Korga necnto, posKtteHHyKs Bawu-no- H O B O M y npeKpacHyio— npHHeccT BaM M oir ruaoc. Kax xo«iy a aanpoKHHyrb Bauiy roaoBy rax, 'iToGbi n o x a a a T b BaM Geaany. k u k o h Bbt He BHqeau ee HHKorga. Ularo Moe AbtxaHite Batuen paGore. flycTb oGeeer o h o nepsbie ancTbi ee. Bearpnca. The intimacy of this contract between actress and poet suggests a personal dimension to the relationship between poet and actress. The letter’s lyrical language, marked by unusual syntax and word combinations, inverted and parallel constructions, and poetic Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 8 4 forms, suggests a non-prosaic discourse that is not prosaic that signifies its object: the communing o f poet and muse The empathy between muse and poet might also explain the mechanics whereby Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov exchanged and borrowed images and allusions so freely. Bruisov’s poems are generally accepted in the critical literature on Kommissarzhevskaia as responses to her letters on the basis o f chronology. An analysis such as the present study also bears credence to this contention: in his poetic rejoinders, the poet often countered with specific phrases and images identical to those in the actress’s letters. One example o f this exchange of imagery begins with Kommissarzhevskaia’s earliest published letter to Briusov from July, 1907, concerning the upcoming staging o f Pelléas and Mélisande. In this letter, the closure provides an intimation of Symbolist discourse: [ feel such an insistent need to involve you in this production that I can't wait to hear vour response to mv ca[[...Good Bvc. 1 await vour replv. \mv eniphasis\ ' (#264 Letters L64t 9 1 ‘lyB C TB yio TaKyn) HacTostTeJibHyK) HcofixoaHMticTb npnoAutHTt. Bac K 3TO H nocraHOBKe. uto hc Mory hc acaaTK Baiuero oTK JiH K a Ha moh 'job....JIo CBHflaHHJt. ) K a y . Briusov’s response was the poem Tn the Autumn” {Osen ’ iu), dated 29 September 1907. In the poem, Briusov embeds the actress’s words within rich nature imagery and characteristically vague allusions; Hefio apKo, HeOo chhc B ‘IMCTOM 'lO JIO T e B eTB C H . Ho crpyiiTCH reHb b aonitne, H 'IB C H H T B O K p y r « ly T b C JlbU U H O H e J K H b iii 'JO B —H e 'J H a io « te ii... Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 185 The sk>' is bright, tlie si^ is blue ia the pure gold of the branches. But a shadow flows over the valley, and a barely perceptible tender call rings ouL Wliose it IS—I don't know. His verse is replete with Symbolist themes: the state of unknowing, a vaguely disconcerting feeling of the unknown, the privileging of emotional experience over action. These themes also found their way into Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary style. In a request to Briusov, written a week later, the actress replicates the Symbolist mood of anxious tension or trepidation {trepet) induced, as in Maeterlinck’s dialogues, by the inability of words to express the experiences of the soul. 1 need you lo come without fail this Saturday at 1 1 am. If on Saturday, at our talk about Pelléas. I don’t hear your word, you will kill the trepidation with which I search for Mélisande. and you will stifle my desire to see her in this theater. I await you Beatrice. ((September 1907 in Chronicle 365) Mue H eorixoflH M o, ‘iToribt b 3T y c y ririo x y Bbi fibuin y m c h h b 1 1 'l a c o a y r p a . E c jih b cySSoxy b riecege o "Rejuieace" a ue ycJibiuiy Baiuero c.'ioaa. Bbi y b b e x e x p e n e x . c k u k h m a Hfly ncKaxb MejiHxaHtty ii noracHxe xceJiaH H c B H flexb ee B 3XOM x e a x p e ...5 ï JKfly Bac. Beaxpiica. In the first part o f her request, the actress uses patent Symbolist vocabulary (“trepidation,” “search, ” “desire”), and invests the poet’s Word with the significance of a religious sacrament: it has the power to “kill” and “stifle’’ the seeker’s quest. Yet, again, Kommissarzhevskaia plays with this idiom. In Symbolist imagery, trepidation’ usually refers to a liminal space outside earthly reality. Here, it is given concrete temporal (and spatial) limitations, as it can be “killed. ” Moreover, the actress undermines the expectation o f unfulfilled desire (“1 search for Mélisande”) by investing the poet with the power to “stifle” that desire. The idiom remains apparent, only the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 8 6 actress has manipulated its images. This reversal o f expectation engages the reader’s attention. As Kommissarzhevskaia began to work more closely with Briusov’s translations, embodying the poet’s words in her personifications, her letters more directly reflect Symbolist discourse. The next letter in this series uses obvious examples o f poetic devices often found in Symbolist verse: parallel constructions, rhetorical questions rather than direct statements, synthesis of sensory perceptions, and vague allusions and imagery. In this short note, there is no undermining o f Symbolist discourse. The actress fi'ames herself as a Maeterlinckean heroine in an attempt to elicit a response from the poet: Have you thought these days about Melisande?. Have you thought these days about Beatrice? Is so. what have you been thinking? If not. why haven't you been thinking? I want your answer in a way that you rarely give it: just like how it resonates in you when you read these lines. ((September 1907) in Chronicle 366) Jly M a JiH JIH Bbt 3TH gH H o M e jiin a H R c ? H y w a J iH j i h Bbi 3 T H « h h o B e a r p H c e ? E c j i h a a - u t o Bbi g y M a j in ? E c j i h h c t , n o u e w y Bbi H e g y w a J iH ? H xouy Baiuero oraera r a i o i M , xax Bbi p e g K O ero gaere: c o b c c m t u k h m . K a K o h 3B y»iH T B Bac, noxa Bbi u n r a e T e 3 t h c x p o K H . She understood that what "resounded’ for Briusov was her recreation o f his heroines, and by using their (his) language, Kommissarzhevskaia was able to maintain Briusov’s interest in her theater. In turn, Briusov’s verses dedicated to Kommissarzhevskaia during this time continue the Symbolist eidolonization which Kommissarzhevskaia had initiated by her dramatic roles. “To a Dear One” (Blizkoi), “The Voice” (Golos), “Autumn” (Osen’ iu), Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 187 ’ ’Sebastian” {Sebast ’ ion), and “To the Approaching One” (Vstrehnoi) were written during fall, 1907. Although published in different cycles in the collection, “All Melodies” (Vse napevy). the poems are united by a common theme; the pursuit/creation o f Art demands self-sacrifice. The image hyperbolized current events in Kommissarzhevskaia’s life: critical reviews of Dramatic Theater productions were becoming increasingly negative, and critics like Kugel’ and Boborykin accused the actress of deserting the acting style that had made her famous. Theater critic lurii Beliaev, who had applauded the actress’s early career, used the theme o f sacrifice in his review of her Hedda Gabier (premiere 10 November 1906): “I didn’t recognize her [Kommissarzhevskaia-klm]. 1 knew that she was capable o f great sacrifices in the name of art, but before me was a veritable self-sacrifice.” '^ As discussed elsewhere in this dissertation, Meierkhol’d’s esoteric productions often proved too elusive for reviewers; at times, the only production detail that reviews found worthy of note was the set design. Stanislavsky’s quip, allegedly uttered after a Moscow performance by the Dramatic Theater, summed up the general attitude of theater critics: “1 would give 40000 roubles so that they don’t show this to the public.”'" Criticism was leveled against Meierkhol’d for his distortion of art, and Kommissarzhevskaia was pitied for her perceived loss of artistic direction and real waste of financial resources. In Briusov’s poem, “To the Approaching One,” (introduced in Chapter I), each production failure that the Dramatic Theater was experiencing figured as a blow against the actress, the “leaf caught in a waterfall,” the “flower, beaten by the stream ”: B o B c e J ic H H o it, c r p a u i H O H ii o r p o M H O ii, Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 8 8 T b i 6 b i J i a —K a K j i h c t h k b s o A o n a A e . H 6jiy3KAaJia crpaHHHueft 6c3A omhoh, C lo y M J ie H b c M ropecTHbiM s o s a r J i H A e . H T e n e p b T b i f i p o u i c H a n a K aM H H . K a K U B C TO K . ir iM o a o T O f t n O T O K O M .. Amidst the frightening, enonnous universe, you were like a leaf in a waterfall. You wandered like a homeless pilgrim, with dumbfounded sorrow in your eyes. And now you lay abandoned on ilic rocks, like a flower, crushed by the current According to the critics, Kommissarzhevskaia was indeed sacrificing her talent to the limitations o f Meierkhol’d’s stylized productions. As one reviewer wrote, “Madame Kommissarzhevskaia pays tribute to our times, to our sick lack o f self satisfaction— and she pays too high a price: she is sacrificing her distinctive, rich, individuality.”^ ^ The title of one o f Briusov’s poems from the fall, 1907, “Sebast ian” articulates the analogy between actress and Christian martyr, a “soul” “pierced by the arrows o f surrounding enemies”: H a M cA JicH H O M o r u e r o p m u b t w h c r c i p a c u i b , ffyu ia MOB I... On a slow fire you burn and arc consumed. My soulL. Not only did Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov share imagery, in his poems dedicated to the actress Briusov recycled images that he had come to associate with his artistic recreation of the actress. In his notebooks. Briusov left a copy of a prose letter to the actress from October, 1907. in which the poet apologized for being a poor correspondent: Far, far off Melisandc. Your voice seemed so strange to me. almost frightening, barely discernable, like a phantom...You shouldn't be mad at me for hardly answering your letters. I didn't want. 1 can't. 1 shouldn't reveal openly...my impression. 1 can't in the presence of others sa\ those words to you that were dear to me. (in Chronicle 372) J^aneKan. gaaeKtisi MejuiaaHAa. KaKiiM crpaHHbtM, nn'iTH crpaiUHbiM H JW M eH 5i Baiu rojioc, cgBa paaJtHUHM hiM , KaK npnapaK...Bbi He AomKHbi Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 189 c e p w n t c x , qro » n o « m i He o T B e 'ia jr B a w . 51 H e x o r e j i , ji n e M o r y , » n e qojcKeH 6biJi BbicraBHTb HaKonaa...c B o e r o Bne'iaTJieHHH, 51 n e M o r y b npHcyrcTBHH MHOCHX ro B o p H T b Te c jio B a , K O T o p b ie M H e 6 b iJ io f l o p o r o c K a a a r b B a w In this letter, the poet established the identity o f Kommissarzhevskaia as the heroine o f his translation, Mélisande. The image of the phantom {prizrak) and the poet’s apparent inability to clearly identify its characteristics, the strange, almost frightening’ voice; ‘barely distinguishable, like a phantom’), are self-citations borrowed from his earlier verse, “Autumn”: 3 t o n p H 'j p a K h j i h n x H u a BeJio p e e r b sbtuiMHe? 3 t o o c e H b H JiH ) K p n u a , B pH3e njiaMCHOH n nbiuiHOH. HaKJioHHeT aHK k g mkc?.. Is it a phantom or a bird/ Soaring white up above'.VIs it Autumn or a priestessV In burning, brilliant garments. / WIio inclines her visage towards me?.. In the poem, the ambiguity o f role exchange (Is it a phantom or a bird? Is it autumn or a priestess?) seems a reference to a similar change o f identity that takes place in Sister Beatrice when the Madonna exchanges places with the earthly Beatrice. Kommissarzhevskaia was performing Beatrice during the first autumn o f her cooperative work with Briusov; and it was probably already at that time that the poet began to cast the actress as his muse. In his poetic responses (and to a certain degree in the above-cited note), the poet elevated his interlocutor to the rank of Symbolist icon, and he maintained this relationship throughout his literary relationship with the actress. In her literary association with Briusov, Kommissarzhevskaia’s two opposing voices served different Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 19 0 functions. On the one hand, the Symbolist voice privileged inner, emotional experience, and its equivocal discourse transmitted personal and even intimate information. In contrast, the more brusque and direct Ibsenesque voice was concerned with action and process (“what” the writer should do in a given situation rather than the “how” the writer felt), and in this discourse the actress conveyed public issues usually related to the functioning o f her theater. Sometimes these two voices are apparent in the same letter, as suggested above. A clearer example is the actress’s letter from early November, 1907, in which the actress informed Briusov about the growing rift between herself and Meierkhol’d and her plans to fire the director: I write in great anxiety, and so maybe everyiliing will seem disconnected and vague because of this...Internal events in my theater have developed to the point at which a catastrophe is unavoidable. Mcierk(ord| has created an atmosphere in the theater in wluch I liavc been choking and I can't take any more. I do not want. I must not perish, and for this reason I am making a break. Tomorrow I will assemble the company in coprope and read them the letter that I sent Mcierkh(ord| today (I enclose it foryou)...l don't know wluit will happen next. Meierkh|ol'd| staged Victory of Death like only a conhised person could... " 5 1 m t u i y B rio jih iu o M B O JiH eH tm , n n o T D M y a c e f i v f l e r O e c c B a m o h n e a c H o , r i b i T b M O JK cT .-.B H V T p eH H U e c o o b i T u a B T e a r p e mocm B b i p o c n i t T a x , mto K a T a c T p o ( J ) a H e tia fie jK H a . M c H c p x ( o a b g | c t n g i u i b r e a r p e a T M o c t p e p y . a K O T o p o it a a a g b t x a j i a c b s e e 3 t o n p c M a n r i o j i b m e H e M o r y . 5 1 H e x o n y , a ne Q o m K H a n t S H y r b it n o r u w y g e j i a K i a a p b i a . S a s r p a a c o f i n p a i o r e a r p i n coprope H U H T a K ) MM B C Jiyx H H C bM o, n o c b i J i a c M o e M H o io c e r o g H a M e i t e p x l o J i b f l y ] (a n p H J i a r a i o B a w e r o ) . . . M T o f i y g e r a a j i b m e —H e i n a i o . M e M e p x ( o n b g | n o c r a B H J i Tloôegy C M e p x H " , x a x M o a c e r 3 T d c q e n a T b c o a c e M p a c r e p a a i U H H c a u e J i o B e K . This letter detailed problems that the Dramatic Theater and Kommissarzhevskaia personally were encountering and how the actress planned to resolve the issue. Actually, the point of the letter was to encourage Briusov to find her a translation of D’Annunzio’s Francesca da Rimini. As the actress well understood, staging a Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 191 successful production was crucial to the continued existence o f her theater. In her estimation, D’Annunzio’s play, with her in the starring role, had the potential to recoup financial losses and reestablish her theater’s artistic platform. Introduced first in Chapter n, I present the letter in its partial entirety due to its interest as the actress’s account of one o f Meierkhol’d’s experiments. The reference is to Victory o f Death by the Russian Symbolist poet, Fedor Kuzmich Sologub: Meierkhlol'dj staged Victory of Death as only a confused person could...It had everything: an unsuccessful attempt to assign the actors rhuhm ic poses from classical tragedy, a Meiningcn crowd scene, chuckles from MAT \Xfoscow Art Theater~klm\ actors, rhythmical reading (like we hear when Fedor Kuzmich reads monologues from lus plays), and llic inescapable picturesque movements and gestures of almost everyone involved. Half the audience liked it and all the Petersburg newspaper critics, who almost unanimously contend that Meierfkhol'df has finally “comearoimd." tliat is. gone back to his old fonns. 1 was at the drfessj rehearsal and said that this is bad from start to finish. 1 didn't ha\e the strength to go to the performance, my heart was so clenched. Meierfkhol'dl felt the heat of my protest. Jlemizov's play is supposed to be the next innovation. 1 invited Dobuzhinskii to design tlie delcore) and sets for it. but now I'm afraid that, after the outburst with Meier[khol’d|. Remi[zov| will withdraw his play out of friendship with Meierlkhol’dj... Francesca is scheduled after Remizov. This is the nightmare I'm living in right uow . l must have immediately a translation of tlie remarks at the beginning of each act (I yvrote you about this)...Hoyv you will do this. 1 don't know. But you must do it because if you can t do it. no one can. and I don't want. 1 can't let any conjectures spring up even for one second that yyith Meierklilordl's departure the (Theater's| pulse has weakened— it must beat more strongly. Hoy\ am this be done, if 1 myself don't appear on stage'.’ And who can 1 play now. besides Francesca'/ f#250 Letters I67j Meftepxojii.fl nocraBHJi 'Tlofieay CMeprn," Kax m o j k c t j t o cqcjiaxb coaceM pacrepaBiUHMca ueJioBcK.— t v t fihiao b c c : Heyaa'iHaa nonhiTxa gaTb axrepaM no3bi lUiacTHM ecKH apeBHcn Tpareaun. MemiureHCKaa Toana. . x o x o t axTepoa HiTpyimbi MocK. Xyg Teaxpa. 'inxKa axxcpoB (pnxMH'r). KaxyK> Mbt cnbiuiHM, Koraa «heflop KyabMHU caw npoH-mocnx MoHoaorn Hi c b o h x nbec. h HeHiôexcHaa xapxHHHocxb gBHXceHHii n m h m h k h b c c x la oueHb MaJibiM HCKJiioHeHHeM yiacxBytoutHX. Bee axo noupaBiuiocb oxnacxH nyfijiHxe h anojiHe peitenaeHxaM nepxepf>yprcKHx ra iex. npn maBUiHX nouxH egHHOJiacHo, nxo Mehepx HaxoHeu "ortoMHHJica " , xax xax BepHyjica k cxapbiM tfiopMaM. 5 1 6biJia Ha renep penexnmiH u cKa iaaa, uxo b c c axo naoxo c HaUcura go KOHita. EbtJia He B cHJiax h o h x h na cnexxaxjib, xax oxaxa y m c h h 6biJia gyiua. rioM yBCXBOBaB axxHBHocxb Moero npoxccxa. Menepxojib g ...C jie g y io m e H H O B H H K oA goJDKHa H gX H rtbcca A.M. PeMH'ioBa. 5 1 rrpHxaacHJia nncaxb fljui nee Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 2 ffeKopaii. H KocnoMbi JXo6y3KHHCKora h rencpb 6oiocb, mto nocne paspbtsa c MeÈep. PeMH3. m qpyacbôbi k hcmv BoabMcr nbecy DffpaxHo. riocjie PeMHsoea HaMenena "cppainrecKa." Bor B K aK O M KoiUMape a ccAuac xhbv... MHe HeofixoiiHMo H M C T b nepeBoa pewapoK, ctojhmmx b HaMzuic KancAoro aicra. (a Baw iiHcaJia o5 3TOM)...KaK Bbi cBepuiHTc noABnr, a He 'iHaio, ho Bbi aoJDRHbi ero CBepuiMTb. ntrroMy «rro ecnii He cflejiaere Bbi— He cAejiaer hhkto. H a xoay, a He Mory. «rro 6bi xoxb Ha ceKVHay bo'jhhkjio npeano/iojKcHHe o tom, HTOcyxoflOM MeHepfxoJibfloMi nyJibc ocnaffeji, oh aojiacen -jafîHTbca cHJibHee. A KaK 3TO cfleJiarb, ecnii He npHfly ccii'tac Ha cuchv a? A ‘iro a Mory Hrpaxb. KpoMe <l>paH»iecKH Tenepb? In the first part o f the letter, Kommissarzhevskaia relays the current series o f events at her theater. Following this, the tone o f the letter becomes increasingly emotional. The actress’s request for assistance (‘T must have a translation”) is transformed into an entreaty for help: “How can I do this if I don’t go on stage? Who can I play...?”. Her statement, “How you will do this ...beat more strongly.” is an extended stream of consciousness; a run-on sentence broken by short, semantically-disjoint, phrases (la ne khochu, ia ne mogn). The emotional tenor culminates in the final rhetorical questions (A kak eto sdelat ? A chio ia mogu i^^raf... ?) that intensify the request. The way in which the actress expresses herself in this letter, from her initial demarcation o f purpose to the somewhat frenzied final rhetorical question, is the plea o f an actress devoted to her art and a would-be businesswoman in search of a means to rebuild her theater and preserve her own professional reputation. Perhaps this is an example of the intensity that compelled Osip Mandelshtam to dub Kommissarzhevskaia “some kind of Joan of Arc” (a persona developed further in Chapter VI). The next crisis in the history o f the Dramatic Theater came with the production of Pelléas and Mélisande. The play’s negative critical reception notwithstanding, Briusov’s Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 193 participation proved to be a frustrating and uncongenial personal experience for the actress. Briusov agreed to the translation, and Kommissarzhevskaia was clearly pleased with his work: “Through the music o f your words I hear the fire o f the soul of Francesca” (Cherez muzyku vashikh slov ia lak slyshu agon ' dushi Francheski) she wrote in a letter from mid November, 1907, thanking Briusov for quickly providing her with the translation (and gently rejecting his staging suggestions).'^ Kommissarzhevskaia had high expectations for the piece in order to redeem herself and her theater in the eyes of the public and critics and to shore up the theater’s financial state. However, apparently without the actress’s knowledge, Briusov and his co translator, Viacheslav Ivanov, planned to publish the translation in Moscow in January, 1908, just prior to the actress’s departure for America. This decision would allow for general circulation of the translation, thus depriving Kommissarzhevskaia and her theater of first performance rights The Dramatic Theater, with Nicholas Evreinov as director, began work on their production of Francesca da Rimini, unaware that theirs would not be the first Russian performance o f the play in Briusov's translation. Upon receiving word of the play’s imminent publication, Kommissarzhevskaia wrote Briusov. The actress presented a terse outline of the consequences her theater would face as a result of Briusov and Ivanov’s action, yet the overall tone of the letter conveyed the actress’s feelings of disbelief and betrayal: Yesterday I saw Viacheslav lvano\. He said that he receix ed a letter from you in whieh you said that, according to you: I ) Fnincesca's publication prior to its staging won't have any negative elTeel on me: 2) you won't be able to give [the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 194 publishing house] Shipo\mik your translation right now. that is. at the beginning of Lent Nothing can be said about the second point: it that’s the w'ay it is. so be it. To the first point I responded: it will hann me if any otlier theater in Sl Petersbiu'g stages the play and thereby deprives me of the possibility of performing Francesca and also deprives iny theater of staging it. B'tepa BHgeria Bnuecnasa HnaHOBa. Oh CKurtaJi, h to najiy^iiut or sac nH C bM O , rqe Bbi r o B o p H x e , h t o , n o BaiueMv M H e t o n o : 1) n o n a n e t i M e "(h p a H H e c K H " B n e 'i a T H g o m x r r a n o B K H e e n a c u e n e H H K a K o r o B p e g a n p t m e c m M H e H e M O JK er, 2) H ejii>3 a hc garb Bauiero n e p e B o g a " U lH n o B H H ic y " H M e tm o T e n e p b , t o e c n > b H a n a J i c n o c r a . Ha B T o p o e C K a r a T b H e n e r u : p a 's 3 T d t u k —3 T o T a K . Ha nepBoe cKa 3ana: t t o Bpeg fiygcT, c c i i h KaKotr-JiHfio reaTp b fleTepfi. nocraBHT ribecy h jihuiiit 3Thm b o - j m o j k h o c t u M e n st cbirpaTb "chpaHnecKy". a TeaTp M O H - nocraBHTb ee. The opening device fin médias res) functioned to amplify the writer’s concentrated effort to express herself as precisely as possible. The abruptness o f the opening, minus salutation or pleasantry, efficaciously establishes the tone of the letter. The lyrical musings and emotional divulgements found in earlier letters is lacking here. The actress uses the discourse of the business letter to isolate individual points in her argument. The letter continiies: ...Tliiscan liappcn quite aisily because I) March and half of April are still within the theater season. 2) Francesca has never been performed in Russia. 3) there arc a lot of ’ 'juicy" roles for "actors" in it: 4) not one St. Peterfaurg theater would find it difficult to stage this piece. ...CnyHHTbca x c j t o m v a 'l e H h a e r i c i ) . B B iig y r o r o . m t d 1 ) . v t a p r h n u jio B H H a anpejtB— B n o jiH e T e a T p i u i b H b i f i c e 'i o n , 2) " ( p p a H u c c K a " H i i K o r g a H e tuna B PoccHH, 3) B H e fi M H o r o p c u i e f i "'ja M a H M U B b ix " gaa " a x T e p o B . " 4) h h ogH O M V TeaTpy H a Bcex, K a tc iie ecTb b f l e r e p f i . . a a g a n a n o c r a B H T b 3 T V Beuib He npegcraBHTCH T p y g n o f i The stenographic staccato, established by the listing of brief points, continues. After setting out her arguments, the actress reasserts control over the situation by suggesting to Briusov what he could do to ameliorate the situation: ...There is still one way out. and if you think it's appropriate, then this is what you need to do. You and Viacli.(esla\j hanov should announce at the Dramatic Writers’ Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 195 Union that for the remainder of this season and the following season you grant production rights for your translation of Francesca in Sl. Fetersb(urg| to Kommissarzlievskaia. _ E c T B e m e B b tx o n , h e c n n o h K a a c e r c ji B a w n p H e M J ic M b iM . t o , K a a c e r o i , a r c S y g e r t o . h t o u a g o . Bbi h B a t . FIb u m o b g o Jia c H b t l a a B H T b b Coma g p a w a T . i r a c a T e n e i t h t o n p a B o n a n o c ra H O B K v " ‘P p a H 'ie c K H " b B a m e M n e p e B o g e B b i b H e r e p G . n p e g o c r a a J K i e T e K . Most o f this letter is written in what 1 am describing as an ' Ibsenesque" voice. The message is directly presented with the aid of numbered points, and the tone is somewhat aggressive. There are no tropes or literary devices associated with poetic language. Yet as in other examples we have seen, the tone softens towards the end of the letter, as if the writer wished to avoid alienating the reader and to regain his sympathies. Again, towards the end of the letter there is an abrupt shift from a description of the external to the inner world, as the actress offers a small insight into her emotional state: I repeat, if for any reason it's not convenient for you to do this, don't. I can't, don't want to. and won't talk about this any more. I'm veiy sad that you wrote this about Francesca to Viach(eslav| lvan|ov|. You wrote to him. and not to me. That's all. (#256 Letters 171) r i o B T O p a i o . e c iiH rro u e N ry -n n G t» B u m s t d H c y g o o m » . —h c g c J i a i r r c . R G o j i b u i e h c M o r y , H e x o 'i y h h c G y t ^ r o B D p i r r b of? 3 t o m . C o b c c m r p y c T H o . * i t o b c c 3 t o B b i H a iiH c a jiH n o n o B o g y " d > p a H M c c K n " Ban. H b u h . Bbi H a n H c a j iH e w y . a H e M H e. Hy b o t h B c e . The play was indeed published and premiered in Russia by the Moscow Maly Theater. The Dramatic Theater would have an opportunity for retaliation later the following summer. Surprisingly, in subsequent letters to Briusov Kommissarzhevskaia does not refer to this event. In addition, the aggressive, matter of fact tone o f this letter is avoided in letters written to the poet during the following month, as the actress was preparing for her grand tour to Europe and America. Letters written during the winter and spring of Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 6 1908 are marked by a more lyrical discourse. These letters are replete with rhetorical devices to involve the reader in the writer’s emotional state, such as repetition o f the hypothetical questions “If only you knew...”. “ If only you could...” that culminate in the disconsolate phrase “It doesn’t matter now...”. The overall tone is one of dependency and passivity: I need to sec you like ne\er before. I need to talk with you. I didn't come b[ecause| at 3 o'clock I wouldn't hate had lime to say all that I need to say. If you want to see me before I leave for America. I will be in Moscow for one day. January 5“ '. and we can get together. As proof of my need to see you. I sent you a telegram, despite the fact that I haven't received answers to my previous letters. If only you knew how my heart is clenched in fear, if only you could feel this from afar. KaK HHKoraa, m h c naflo Bac BitacTb. r o B n p n T K c BaMH. 5 1 H e npnexajia. ti.q.B 3 naca a He Morna fihi ycnexb CKaiaTb Bce, 'itd MHe Hago. Ecjih Bbi xoTHTe M e n a B H fle rb go trrbeaga Moero b AMepmct'. a Oygy b MocKBe ogHH geHb 5-ro aHBapa, h M bt VBHgHMca. floKaaaTeJibCTBOM roro. Kax M He nago BHgeTb Bac, cgyxHT to . u to a nocnaaa Baw reaerpaMMy. necMorpa na t o . h t o He nogyMHJia oTBeTa na c b o i i nocnegnne nncbMa. Ecmi obi Bbi iHagM. xaicHM yacacoM cfri,aTa Moa gyuia. ecmi ribi Bbi cvMenn na paccroaHHH nouyncTBoBaTb 3 T O . Certainly, in this letter Kommissarzhevskaia was expressing her apprehension about her upcoming tour and anxiety at the end of another unsuccessful season. Yet, again, the almost cajoling tone towards the end of the letter seems to thwart the reader’s expectation, as the plea turns into reproacli: ...If only you knew how my heart is clenched in fear, if only you could feel this from afar, then your telegram would have reached me at 6 p.m.. and it would have been different. Now it doesn't matter. I want you to pay some attention to my brother, who will give you this letter, and I want you to give him an opportunity to speak with you about my concerns and I want you to do what you promised. Besides this. I need you. I’m all alone— I'm... And if you want to know more, then tell me. Beatrice (in Chronicle 381-382) ...Ecjih 6bi Bbi iHciJiH. xaKHM y»cacoM oG-bjiTa moh gyiua, ccjih 6bi Bbi cyM CJiH Ha paccTOHHHH no'iyBCTBoBaTb 3TD— Bauia TcJicrpaMMa npninga ribi ko m h c b 6 H . Benepa, h ona 6higa Obi gpyrasi. Ho cetiMac 3To HenatKHo. 5 1 xo*iy. h[to| 6[bi| B bt ygegHgti HcMHoro BpeweHH MocMy OpaTy, KOTcipbiH oTgacr BaM 3To ItH C bM O , H X O «iy, '|(T0| 0(bt| Bbi gaJIH C M y BOlM OXHOCTb norOBopHTb c BaMH o Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 197 M oeM rjia B H O M ti c flc tn a jiH t o , « r r o o f i e m a j i i i , Kpowe a r o r o . m h c Hy^KHO Bac, MHe ogHHOKo—M H e...H CCJIH Bbi x o T i i T c V T H a T b 3 T O —C K a jK H T c- BcaTpHca As in the majority o f her letters to the poet, in this letter Kommissarzhevskaia signed herself as the Maeterlinckean heroine. Beatrice. Two factors emphasize the significance of this identity for Kommissarzhevskaia in her relationship with Briusov: only in letters to the poet did she use this appellation, and the actress signed herself “Beatrice” in her “Maeterlinckean” as well as “Ibsenesque” letters. On the other hand, Briusov referred to Kommissarzhevskaia in the identify o f a different Maeterlinckean heroine, Mélisande. Kommissarzhevskaia preferred the former. My heart is in this role; it’s as if I am acting it all the time,”* she stated in an interview during her January 1908 tour in New York (New York Times (24 April 1908) in Chronicle 401 ). Ironically, Sister Beatrice had been by far the major success of her collaborative work with Meierkhol’d during the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s opening season; Kommissarzhevskaia was not satisfied with Evreinov’s staging o f Pelléas and Mélisande. and although critics praised her performance as Mélisande, the play as a whole was not well received. Yet for Briusov, the identity of Kommissarzhevskaia-Mélisande had a greater resonance: he had, essentially, created her in his translation, and the image further complemented the typology he created for the actress in his verses to her. As was the case for all o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s tours to the Russian provinces and abroad, the 1908 tour was organized for financial reasons. For this reason Kommissarzhevskaia planned her older, signature roles “Varya,” “Larisa,” “Rosie,” and Moe cepgue b aroft poJiH, h h 'lyBCTBV K i ceOa t ; i k , cjioB H ti see BpeMB H t p a i o ee. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 198 contemporary Realist roles (Ibsen and Gorki:). Yet although her second theater was, in essence, the major venue for Symbolist dramaturgy, and Kommissarzhevskaia was successful in Maeterlinck dramas, very few performances o f Symbolist dramaturgy were staged during the tour. After a break in writing, perhaps due to the misunderstanding over Briusov’s translation o f Pelléas and Mélisande, Kommissarzhevskaia renewed her correspondence with the poet. In doing so, she utilized their mutual culture. Symbolist imagery and discourse. Taken as a whole, the letters written to Briusov during the actress’s foreign tour constitute the end o f their correspondence history. In them, Kommissarzhevskaia used their shared idiom to play the role of the all-loving, all-forgiving Beatrice. As stated above. Symbolist roles did not predominate in her performance schedule at the time. With this in mind, the overriding preoccupation with Symbolist imagery— the idiom in which the poet had popularized the actress’s image— in these last letters suggests a deliberate modeling of personna in an attempt to revitalize the poet’s interest. Kommissarzhevskaia’s brief telegram written to Briusov. written on the eve o f her departure, iterated the call o f Mélisande to Pelléas: My dear one. my dear one. my poor one. I aiil. I await. I await. I am true. Me. (In Rybakova 1971:176) Mnjibin. Miinbifi. Seanbin, a aoBy. a acay, a acay. a B e p n a . 5 1 . Briusov’s response to his muse, written the same day, was the poem ' To the Approaching One.” In the poem, the poet continued his idolization of his muse as self- sacrifice, a “martyr on the cross”. Yet he also maintains a distance, suggesting that the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 199 answer o f a Poet lies outside the realm o f earthly existence, as it is a holy gift {dar sviatoi): KaK crpacTHu Tbt xqajia uxBCTa! M 5 1 T e n c c B iif t q a p n p u H e c . Cbuh flap C B S iT D H , C B O H flap nciara - BcHOK H 3 TCM H O -K paC H fctX pm. B B C H U e. K aK H a B e c e jio M n w p e . - Tbi M y i e H H u a H a K p e c r e l H a fivflb Bepna b HcBepHOM Mwpe Cboch BocrapJKcHHiifi Mc'iTe!.. . Bjih'jkoh/ How passionately you awaited an answer! And I brought you my gift. My holy gift, my poet's gift— A wreath of dark red roses... Adorned with the wreath, like at a joyous banquet. You are the martyr on the cross! But remain faitliful in a faithless world to your exalted dream! .. The poem is dated 11 January 1908. and the actress left for Europe the following day. At the end of the month, she wrote Briusov from Warsaw: Warsaw. Tuesday. I was sad and upset for so long, for so long I didn't hear a single word. I couldn't write. :md 1 still can't. Now 1 am joyously blind. Joyously blind. Dear one. dear one. it's almost Spring here. There's a lot of sunshine, a lot of sk> . flowers, and liappy. beautiful faces, here they especially love me and warmly greet me— poor Beatrice. When 1 w ill return to Russia. I'll be able to say only from New York... I am grateful for the verses, but 1 don't want to give thanks for them.. After all. they're still not My verses, are the\ ? Isn't that so'.' We know that, don't we'/ Bapiuaea. Btdphhk. flc'iaJibHii-TpcBujtcHii ohuiti rate flaJtru. flojiro He cjibtxaTb H H oflHorci iBVKa. rineaTb He Morna. He M a r y eme Tenepb. 5 1 paflocTHo-cjienaH ceH'iac. PafloexHo-cjienait. Miutbin, MitJibiH. iflecb nouTH BecHa. 3flecb M Horci cojtHua. mhopo Heria. ubctdb, paflocTHbix, KpaciiBbix jihu, 3 f l e c b c x ro rie H H o jik)55IT Menu n e o B c e M B u e ro p jic e H H i) Bcrpe'iaKîT M e n si - ScflHVio Bearpcy. Kopfla 5 i B e p n y e s b Pdcchk), a eMory cKaaaxb xoJibKo tri HbKi-HopKa... 51 r i J i a r o f l a p H u ; a e x i i x i i . h d a H e x o 't y o n a p o f l a p i i x b a a h i i x . M B c e - x a x H 3 X 0 e m c H e M o h c x h x h . f l p a o f l a ? M k i m a e M y x o . f la ? The letter begins with a description of the writer’s recent psychological state, with some emotionally colored details from her tour. Briusov’s influence on the actress is indicated in the letter: a response from him has changed her mood from "sad and Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 0 anxious’ to ‘ joyously blind.’ In her letter, although ‘poor Beatrice’ acknowledges the ‘Poet’s gift’ to her (dorpoeta), she also cautions him that it is not for her to receive it. Her final words refer the reader back to the letter’s initial lyric tone, and seem to recall the voice o f Mélisande: ...After all, they're still not My verses, are they? Isn't that so? We know that, don’t we? Here are my hands, here are my eyes. Yes. Yes. this is me.'" Mbt S H a e M 3 T O . f l a ? B o t m o h p y x H , b o t m o h m a a a . f t a , f l a , 3 T o h . The image of arms or hands (the Russian word m ki is ambiguous) functioned as a leit-motif throughout Kommissarzhevskaia’s correspondence with Briusov. In the letteror under discussion, the visual image of arms or hands outstretched in entreaty {Vot moi m ki, vat m oi glaza) graphically demonstrated the “call” o f her mid-December telegram Q ‘ 'M ilyi...ia zovu”). As a brief comparison will show, the way in which this image is presented signifies its type of discourse. For example, whereas Hilda in The Master Builder demands her “castle” by pounding her fist on the table, the heroine of Symbolist drama beseeches attention with outstretched open arms. Moreover, each o f these scenes was popularized in publicity shots of Kommissarzhevskaia. Consistent with his idealization o f Kommissarzhevskaia as Martyr-Muse, the poet borrowed and transformed the image: Tbi f l b im a T b M o r J ia o f lH o ft J i i o 6 o B b i o Ho J i i o 6 o B b T a H J ia C K o p 6 b h M y io f. O, K a K 6 b i c r p o o S a r p i u r H C b K p o B b io C H e x c H o c T b K ) n p o T J iH y T b ie p y iC H . /"BcrpeHHOH", cear.-Hoa. 1907/ You could breatlie only love, but love melted your suffering and torture. O, how quickly your tenderly proffered hands became covered in blood! Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 201 Now the gently proffered arms are vividly recast with hands bloodied by the indifference o f the world. The pattern o f Symbolist imagery and linguistic devices that prevailed in the letters of this period was broken in one particular letter, written in June, 1908. Back in Russia, tired from her tour and still planning to present her version o f Francesca da Rimini in Moscow that summer, Kommissarzhevskaia confronted Briusov with the fact that his translation o fFrancesca. published prior to the Dramatic Theater scheduling o f the play, was already being staged in Moscow: I was vei>" ill. Now Fm better. 1 don’t recall what 1 wrote you in that letter, but so be it I just received the most shocking news that Francesca is being performed in Moscow. Is this really true? You translated Francesca for me. my theater— the director, the set designer, and I happily devoted our energies to it. and suddenly you deprive our theater of tlie possibility of presenting this piece in Moscow.. J can’t infringe on your desire to giv e the translation to the Maly Theater, no matter what the material loss this brings to my theater. But did you really not tell them when you gave them Francesca tliat in St. Petersburg the translation belongs to my theater and tliat I will perform it in Moscow? Fm coming to Moscow for one month and bringing only two new plays, one of which is Francesca. 1 no longer have the choice not to perform this play in Moscow, first of all. since the director and designer have already expended a lot of energy on it. and secondly. I don’t have another play, and even if 1 did. there's neither time nor the spiritual, physical, and emotional resources wiüi which to prepare it. Nothing else like it comes to mind. This is such an unexpected shock, especially now. when this month in Moscow is more than important, materially speaking. M ue 6 b i J i o o H C H b l u i o x o . T e n e p b a a g o p o n a . R n e h o m h i c . u t o r m c a n a B u m b t o m m t c b M e . h o n y c T b o h o 6 y g e r . C e i m a c n o J i y u H J i a o t u e j i o M J i H K m t e e H 3 B e c T H e o t o m . m t o " d > p a H M e c K a " H g c T B M o c K B e . H e y a c e J i H 3 T O n p a a g a . B b i n e p e B C J iH g r a M e n a " « b p a m te c K y , " T e a T p b J i m t e p e a c e c c e p a . x y g o a c H H K a h M e n a a a T p a M H B a n p a g o c T H o s e e c H J ib i, p a S o T a a n a g h c m . h a g p y r Bbi J iH U ia e T e B 0 3 M 0 * H 0 C T H T e a T p y n o K a a a n . 3 T y p a 6 o T y Mocicae 5 1 H e M o r y n o o c a r a T b n a Baiue x r e a a H H e o T g a T b n e p e a o g M a j io M y T e a T p y , k u k 6 b i h h 6 b i J i x a a c e j i y i g e p f ) . H a H o c H M b iü 3 t h m . M a T e p n a jib H o M o e M y T e a T p y . Ho H e y jK c jiH , o T g a a a a " ( p p a H M e c K y ". B b i H e CKaaaiiH. mto n e p e a o g a H e T e p ô y p r e n p H H a g J ie jK H T M o e M y T e a T p y H mto a 6 y g y n r p a T b e r o a M o c i c a e ? 5 1 e g y a Mocicay n a o g H H M e c a u H B e 3 V T o ji b K o g a e H o a b i e n b e c b i , o g n a H 3 K O T o p w x " « t » p a m i e c i c a " . H e H r p a T b e e a M o c f c a e a y x a n e M o r y , a o - n e p a b i x , a a n g y n o T p a M C H H o r o n a n e e T p y g a p e x c M c c e p a h x y g o s o o n c a , a a o - B T o p b i x , y M e n a h c t g p y r o f t n b e c b i . a e c j i H 6 b i H 6 b i J i a —n p H r o T O B H T b e e h c t a p e M e n H . h c t h h g y x o B H O H . h h Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 2 ({)H 3H < ieC K O â, H H MOpaJIbHOjf BOSM OXHOCTeÉ. MHC B rOJIOBy He M O rJIO npHHTH HTo-jmGo nonoôHoe. 3 r o raKOH neoxHqaHHBiA yqap h HMenno Tenepb, Korga qjiH reaxpa aro Meoni b MocKBe 6oJiee new Bancen b MaxepHajibHOM O THOm eHHH. Not unlike her letter of early December, 1907, in which the actress reproached Briusov for breach of trust in publishing the translation before her theater could mount the production, in this letter the actress also expressed her indignation in a blunt, plain spoken fashion. Stylistic markers such as the isolation o f points to build an argument (“First of all,” “Secondly”), the relaying of historical details (e.g., the amount o f work already spent on the production by members o f the company), and the lack o f poetic devices suggest the assertive, “Ibsenesque,” voice: the voice o f the business woman who suspects in her correspondent dishonesty and perhaps lack o f respect. Yet, again, in her closing statements the actress revealed her inner, emotional state, perhaps to soften the aggressive tone o f the preceding passages, perhaps to gain the poet’s sympathies: ...Tliis is such an unexpected shock, especially now. when this month in Moscow is more than important, materially speaking. Wlien I think about the struggle, about all tire unassailable difficulties, by tlie minute it seems, through which I bear my theater, when 1 see myself dming tliose minutes when my arms reached out to you with their burdeiL die very thought tliat your hand could, even involuntarily, even for a single moment, make this burden unexpectedly hea\y. seems ridiculous to me. Your Beatrice (#263 Letters 173-174) . . . 3 x 0 x a K O H H eo H C H A aH H b iH y g a p h H M e n n o r e n e p b , K o r g a g j i a r e a r p a a r o r M e c a u B M o c K B e S o j i e e h c m B a a c e n b M a x e p n a n b H O M o x H o t u e n n n . K o r g a a g y M a i o o B c e ft G o p b r i e . o Bcex, M n n y x a M H x a a c e x c a , n e r t p e o g o j i H M b i x xpygHocxax, nepex Koxopbie a necy cBonxeaxp, K o r g a B H H cy ce6a b xe M H H y x b i, Korga MOH p y x H c a x o n n o t u e n n p o x a r H B a j i H c b k B a M , M n e x a n c e x c a c M e iu H b iM gaace i i p e g n o J i o a c e n H e o x o m , » ix o Baiua p y x a x o x a 6 b i n e B O J ib H o . x o x a 6 b i H a MHX c g e j i a e x a x y n o i n y H e a c e jia H H o x a n c e n o f l . Bama Eeaxpnca Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 3 The predominance o f prosaic language in the body o f the letter gives way to more poetic forms in the closure: the parallel constructions (“When...” “When...”), the extended metaphor on which this section is built, and especially the reference to “hands/arms,” one o f the shared images in this correspondence, trusting arms extended to a friend who has broken faith. In the actress's perception o f the matter, she casts Briusov into the role o f antagonist not unlike the images in his verse to her— an enemy who surrounds the broken Sebastian, a current in the stream that crushesthe flower. This letter in particular illustrates how closely artistically organized information such as the poetic images in Briusov’s poetry influenced the actress’s self writing as helpless, naive sacrifice. However, historical facts suggest the contrary. In this event Kommissarzhevskaia may well have suffered at Briusov’s professional infidelity, yet she was not dependent on Briusov to ensure her success—Kommissarzhevskaia had acquired her star status well before involving Briusov in her Dramatic Theater. As regards the rivalry that ensued between the Maly Theater and Dramatic Theater productions o f Francesca. Kommissarzhevskaia also proved the winner. As was mentioned above, Briusov’s translated version premiered in the Moscow Maly Theater in the Summer of 1908. Towards the end of August, as she had earlier intended, Kommissarzhevskaia and her company staged the same play while on tour in Moscow (using a different translation). As he wrote to his co-translator, Briusov did not expect the consequences: the critics panned the Maly Theater Francesca and praised both Kommissarzhevskaia as Francesca, and the Dramatic Theater production. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 4 However, their professional relationship did not cease, and in early October, 1908, Briusov came to St. Petersburg, to be present at the Dramatic Theater’s premiere o f Francesca in its theater locale on OflBcer Street. The actress continued to rely on Briusov as an artistic ally, and undoubtedly as a personal friend. The remaining letters in their correspondence, spanning September, 1908, to late January, 1909, are marked by their brevity and intrinsically lyric, emotional quality, unlike letters to other colleagues at this time. In addition, none o f the actress’s correspondence to other intimates contained the same degree o f profound intimate revelation that Symbolist discourse allowed her. These remaining letters epitomize the extent to which the idiom shared by Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov created the frame o f their epistolary relationship, and how the actress continued to attempt to engage the poet’s declining interest within this idiom. A short note to Briusov from 14 September 1908 is encased within the frame of Maeterlinck, and it is not surprising that the actress begins her letter with a citation from Pelléas and Mélisande. Yet following the citation, the actress includes the source, as if reminding Briusov o f their earlier collaborative work on the play; " I must know the trutli. otherwise I cannot die. ' Pellcas and Mélisande "H A O JC sceH 3HaTb npanjty, mtane a ne Mory yMeperb." "nejuieac n MejiKaaHfle” Following the citation, Kommissarzhevskaia composed a brief succinct message that conveyed Mélisande’s anxiety upon Pelléas’ absence; I need you like never before. I need to know if I should wait for you. I ask for a telegram with one word: yes or no. (in Chronicle 411) Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 5 Haao Bac, K aic H e a a q o H H K o rn a. Mne H aq o s n a T b , a a a o j i h MHe )K qaT b Bac. H npomy x e n e rp a M M b t c ogHHM cnoB O M : JXa. h jih h c t . The text creates the illusion o f intimacy; as the signature implies, the actress speaks through the voice of a fictional heroine. Kommissarzhevskaia-Beatrice became a construct for both the actress and poet, merging historical personality and literary image. The final section o f this analysis involves the literary relationship that took place between Kommissarzhevskaia and Briusov during January 1909, when their correspondence as such came to an end. The very intimate nature o f these notes and letters, implied in the content as well as the use o f the informal pronoun ty supports speculation that the actress and poet were indeed involved in a romantic relationship during this time: “I need you in a different way than 1 needed you up to now,” (Mne mizhno tebia po-dmgomu. chem bylo mizhno do sikh par ’ ), she wrote in a letter from early January (in Chronicle 426). The language in these notes is lyrical, filled with poetic images and only minor references to real life events. Rather than the outpouring o f detail previously used to describe crucial moments in her professional life, such as the Meierkhol’d controversy or the Pelléas and Mélisande translation scandal, in these last writings Kommissarzhevskaia expresses herself in a brief compact manner. Yet the quality o f sparseness and ambiguous references in these letters seem best to embody the “language o f the soul,” prized in Symbolist verse and drama, in which silence speaks and sound alone has the potential to convey more meaning than word:'* Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 6 [8 January 1909] ...In ail the world I need only you: not you— but your eyes that silently listen to me... . . . c e i m a c b o B c e w M H p e o a h h m h o u y a c a H —t b i , h c t b i —t b o h r j i a a a , K O T o p B ie B B i c n y m a i o T w e n n n y c T b M o j n a . . . Returning from her Moscow visits she wrote: [18 January 1909] A new day. 1 send you the sound of the song my soul will sing for you. We're approaching Peterb[urgj. 1 wanL 1 need your sound. Your Chaos. HoBBiif qeHB. ntmo 3ByK necHH, Koropyio cnoer re6e won qyuia. noqBexaro k HerepG. Xonercjt, uaqo TBoero S B y K a . Tbob Xaoc. [20 January 1909| 1 am tortured now. my elusive one. When you hear my moan, take iL there is much of me in it. Tell me. do you hear me. do you want to hear more. Tell me. your lightening one. your desired one. 1 am now your sobbing— my sobbing— our sobbing. M ne M y M H T eJiB H o c e i m a c . m o h C M y rH B ift, y c jiB tm B m o h c t o h , b o s b m h e r o , B H C M M H o r o . t b k M H o r o M e n a . C K a x c H M H e. c r iB im H m B j t h t b i M e im . x o u e i i i B JiH c n y m a T B e i q e . C ic a jK H m h c t b o c h c r p a u iH O H . T B o e i i x c e n a H H o n . H — p b i q a H H e c e i m a c T B o e . C B o e , n a m e . Taken as a whole, the language projects an expanse of passionate experiencing, from the ‘sound o f a soul singing’ to ‘moans and sobbing,’ while the preponderance of expressions regarding need on the actress’s part implies the relationship’s precarious emotional base. There is one more letter written by Kommissarzhevskaia to Briusov at the end of January, 1909. Indeed, it is difficult to ascertain which came first: her letter, or his poem, entitled “Inevitability,” dated 22 January 1909. For reasons that will become apparent, we take the poem as Briusov’s response to the actress’s letter. These two written texts illustrate how the poet and his muse still used the language o f Symbolism to communicate with one another, but their reasons for using this language now served different purposes. The language o f her letter could have been taken from Pelléas and Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 7 Mélisande. the play that Briusov himself called “a single ecstatic romantic dialogue” (odin vostorzhennyi romanticheskii dialog) (in Brodskaia 1987:112): How few words I want to say to you now. and how many sounds tliere are for you inside me. I expect you. I’m afraid to say. how much I expect you. I will be free from the 3 L “ to the I”. I want you to come in the morning, and we will go away for 2 days. You will come, you must give your pain to my wounds. You must take my smile for yourself. Wliy are you silent? (In Chronicle 427) KaK Majio c n o B xouy a cKasan» reGe ceiNac m KaK MHoro b o m h o sByxoB qjut reGa. H x a y reGa. 5 1 Goiocb cKaaaxb. aaic a *ay. H CBoGoana 31 h 1-ro. 5 1 xoay a.G. tw npnexaji yrpoM, h mh yeqew na 2 gna. Tbi tipHeaeuib, xbi nojtaceH aaxb T B O to GoJib M O H M paHaM. Tbi itoJCKen B s a t b ceGe moic yjibiGxy. fToaeMy M O JIUHUIb T b i? Yet the tone of supplication and the ending’s querulous reproach indicate the pair’s increasing alienation and offer an illustration of myth-creation. Germane to Briusov’s self-description as Poet was an almost detached passivity. As he had written to a former lover, “I never loved, I never hated, 1 never suffered. 1 was outside of it: always like a spectator even when 1 seemed to be the actor,”* ’ embodying the very definition Briusov had created in his programmatic verse,“To the Poet” (Poetu) (1907): “Tbi a o JU K e u GbiTb ropgbiM, x a x iH a M u ; Tbi a o JU x e H G b iT b o c r p b i M , x a x w e n .. . //Bcero Gyq b xojioaHbiA C B U f le r c J ib ... You must be proud like a banner. You must be sharp like a sword... /In all things be always a dispassionate observer... Briusov’s final poem to the actress published during her lifetime’”, “Inevitability” provides closure to their epistolary relationship. In it, the poet categorically rejects the emotional need so eloquently voiced in the actress’s letter: He B c e J ib p a B H o , Gbuia Jib T b i M He n e p H a ? M GbiJi JIH B e p e n h . H e B c e p a B H o j i h ? He HaMH H a m a Gimaocrb p e m e n a . .. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 8 Isn't it all the same, whether you were true to me? And whether I was true to you. isn’t it all the same? Our intimacy is not determined bv us... The poet puts a final stop to the relationship through a characteristically Symbolist vehicle. In his poem, the poet justifies his actions by avowing that some force outside human existence controls human life, that the individual is truly powerless in directing the events of earthly existence. Whereas Kommissarzhevskaia persisted in using the language of Maeterlinck in an attempt to encourage communication between herself and the poet, Briusov now uses that discourse to mark the end o f his involvement with his muse. Perhaps a theater metaphor can help to elucidate Wolfgang Iser’s assertion that the “work is more than the text.” Not only the voice of the reader (implied or impersonal), but inter-textual and meta-literary influences also function as cues for the ‘text’ constituted by Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters. The influences o f the cultural atmosphere o f the period, implied in the choice o f discourse, blend to create the complex texture of these writings. The Symbolist urge for life-creation can perhaps be seen in the way in which private individual and artistic form merge to create public image. Due to the prevalence o f the latter, perhaps we can analyze this correspondence as a kind o f performance art in which Kommissarzhevskaia carries out the action and Briusov assumes the role o f passive audience. The resultant balancing act is mediated by a shared idiom. On the one hand, Kommissarzhevskaia used the idiom of Ibsen’s headstrong heroines in which to present her professional persona as theater owner and Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 9 actress; the Maeterlinckean voice had a different goal. In these letters, the actress operated within the idiom o f Maeterlinck for two primary reasons: 1) in order to convey to Briusov topics o f an intimate nature and, more importantly, 2) in order to maintain her personal relationship with the poet and special status as Muse. The demands of a shared culture— the culture o f Symbolist myth and language— influenced the presentation o f self in their writings and imbued these documents with the quality o f artefact. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 0 N o te s t o C h a p t e r IV 1. In the Spring o f 1907 Briusov gave a series o f three public lectures, collectively entitled “The Theater o f the Future,” o f which his 1906 article, “Karl V. Dialogue on Realism in Art” was the forerunner fZolotoe runo (4) 1906). This series was never published in its entirety. However, part o f one lecture formed the basis for his subsequent article, “Realism and Convention in the Theater,” which appeared in Teatr Kniga o novom teatre (St.P., 1908) (translated in Senelick 1981). See Gerould (1979) for a general discussion o f Briusov’s relation to Russian theater. Briusov wrote plays in a Symbolist venue, such as the cosmic drama Earth f 1905) and his one-act monodrama. The Wayfarer 119101. The Dramatic Theater did not stage any of Briusov’s plays, although it did consider Earth for production. As concerns Briusov’s influence on Meierkhol’d, see Brodskaia (1976, 1987). 2. The term “barynya” can refer to a noblewoman or to a servant’s mistress. In Mandel’shtam’s usage, the term implies a mannered, unimaginative mode o f behavior and also eloquently serves to emphasize Kommissarzhevskaia’s youthful stage quality (Savina was, in fact, ten years older than Kommissarzhevskaia). 3. Schuler (1996:166) explains that “...after leaving the Aleksandrinskii in 1902, she [Kommissarzhevskaia] began to borrow more heavily from Duse’s repertory. Perhaps because this repertory included Ibsen, Vera Fedorovna became closely identified in the minds of spectators with the Western European New Woman.” This generalization is shghtly misleading. Perhaps a valid estimation for audience members able to acquire tickets to Duse performances, the students who formed the majority of Kommissarzhevskaia’s public may not have had the opportunity (apart from printed reviews) to scrutinize Duse’s repertory so closely. Also, in her argument, Schuler overlooks the significance of Kommissarzhevskaia’s involvement with the Russian social service sector, as well as her avowed platform to present Russian (i.e., national) art. Thus, the identification of the actress as New Woman should also include the national version of that international phenomenon. 4 . “ B b i BHflejiH Hopy ? E c jih He oTH H w eT m h o p o ep eM eH H , nepK H H Te e a u ie BHHMaHHe o6 H Ppe K oM H capaceB C K oft, a 6 y n y n r p a T b a r y p o jib , a o jd k h o S b itb , h MHe HHTepecH O 6 b iJ io 6 b i a n a r b , k h k ona ee nrpaeT. ” (“K.P. Piatnitskomu” ( 18 September 1904) #18 Andreeva 1961:69). Andreeva subsequently considered joining the Dramatic Theater (see “E.F. Krim” (14 April 1905) Andreeva (1961:76). 5. "H opa-K oM H ccap5K eB C K aa--3T O c h m b o ji c rp a A a H H a acen m H H b i, a rc n p o T e c T npoT H B y c jio B H O c re n H aiuH x 6yA H eô, n a m e r o M e m a n c K o ro ’c e M e iiH o ro o n a r a . Unsigned review, Omskii vestnik (29 May 1909), in Chronicle 442. 6. Kommissarzhevskaia performed in her Dramatic Theater productions of Ibsen’s A Doll’s House (premiere 20 February 1904) and The Master Builder (premiere 7 April 1905). Her theater also staged Ghosts and Rosmerholm. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 211 7. “YBîUKaeMajr Bepa <t>enopoBHaI H 6jiaronapio Bac o r Bceii qyum sa Bame aoôpoe npHTJiameiiHe, ohchb hjw mchb saMamHBoe, ho Bpxq jih cMory oncjiHKHyTbCH Ha nero K aK A O JD K H O . BefleKHHAa Jt qemo bbicoko h onenb 6bm 6bi pan cnoco6cTBosaTB BepnoMy ero BonjiomeHHK) Ha caene, ho hmohho na ocem, aroro rona HasHaneno y Mena ctojibko pa6or, «rro A JiH M eH H H eBosM O JK H o 6yneT npHcxaTb b HerepGypr. BnponeM. h sHaro^HTo h 6es Moero coneôcTBHH Bbi H Bcesoiion 3M H Jn>eBH H ne A/assrere nocraBHTb "ripoGyjKneHHe BecHbi" HeynaHHo. FlosBOJibre x e M H e Gbixb ne sa KyjiHcaM H b hhcjic nejrrejieô^ a b napxepe cpen» ôjianonapHbix spHxejieô. Cepnenno yBascaïoinHâ Bajiepnü BpiocoB. In Chronicle 361. 8. " CHJIbBHK) B "JîaCHOKGHae" R HTpaTB He X O M y. M MOry no6opOT£> C B O K ) xojioHHOCTb K ’ AHHyHUHo, KO coBceM He Mory aacraBHTH ce6a cbirpaTB ceftHac pojib, rne C TO JU .K O naccHBHocTH (3T0 ne coBceMTo cjiobo).” V ia. Briuscvri,” (3 November 1907-postmark) #249 Letters 166. 9. Hedda Gabier premiered in the Dramatic Theater on Officer Street 10 November 1906, in a translation by A. and P. Ganzen; Sister Beatrice premiered on 22 November 1906, in a translation by M.P Somov. Both plays were under MeierkhoPd’s direction. 10. Briusov's diary notation, noted in the introductory paragraph o f this chapter, continues: “Intense days and nights. Her [Kommissarzhevskaia’s] visits to Moscow. Translation o f Pelléas and Mélisande (Briusov 1927:139). 11. Review in Novoe vremia fNew Timel (29 November 1906) in Chronicle 336-337. lurii Believ, the author of an 1899 monograph on Kommissarzhevskaia, discussed several o f the actress’s roles in his 1905 essay collection, Melpomena. Kommissarzhevskaia received a copy o f the text shortly after its publication. See her letter to Beliaev, #232 Letters 159. 12. “H 3anjiaTHJi 6bi 40000 3a to, hto6 w sto He no(ca3biBaJiH ny^JiHKe,” Ohozrenie teatrov 1907 (14-15 October), in Chronicle 365. 13. ‘T - x a KoMHCcapxeBCKasi njiaTHT flanb HameMy BpewcHH, naiueH OojibHoft HeyflOBJieTBopeHHocTH, H HJiaxHT ona crpaniHo mhopo: ona npHHOcHT b xepxBy C B O K ) HeoôbiKHOBeHHyio OoraxyTO HHflHBHflyaJibHocxb.” Russkoe slovo (4 September1907) in Chronicle 364. 14. “V.Ia. Briusovu” 18 November 1907-postmark) #249 Letters 166. Fedor Sologub’s plav The Victory of Death premiered at the Dramatic Theater 6 November 1907. Kommissarzhevskaia did not perform in the play and did not appear at the opening, “so clenched was her heart,” as she writes in this letter to Briusov. Fedor Komisarjevsky directed Aleksei Remizov’s three-act play Devilry (premiere 4 December 1907); again, without Kommissarzhevskaia’s participation. Mstislav Dobuzhinskii was a member of the World o f Art group. He designed the sets for the Remizov production as well as for Francesca da Rimini. 15. “V.Ia. Briusovu” (14 November 1907) # 253 Letters 169-170 ("B ce, hxo Bbi iiHiuexe o X OM , kuk npHcxynaxb k paOoxe nocxanoBKH "<t>paHHecKH" oxBenaex X OM y, Hxo a cMyxHO xcejiajia, ho axo ne xax JierKO, KaK BaM, 6bixb Moxex, Kaxexca"). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 2 16. In Chronicle. 385-386. Partially printed in Rudnitskii (1965:127-128). 17. Briusov wrote in his Journal: “Translation Francesca da Rimini. Three weeks o f tense work. Kommissarzhevskaia’ ^ s break with Meierkhol’d. Play can’t be staged. In the Spring, my closer association with Lensky [Maly Theater director]. I promise him Francesca Kommissarzhevskaia is displeased.” In a letter to Viacheslav Ivanov, dated September 13/16 1908, Briusov was more candid: “As you, o f course, know, our Francesca in the Maly Theater failed pitifully, hopelessly. Kommissarzhevskaia’s production was successful. I didn’t expect this. ” One newspaper review observed: “Francesca at the Hermitage Theater [rented by Kommissarzhevskaia fo r her M oscow tour-klni\ turned out better than at the Maly Theater. Out o f the main role, instead o f a walking mannequin...V.F. Kommissarzhevskaia created a living person.” (Russkoe slovo (5 September 1905) in Chronicle 4 1 1 . 18. The following citations are taken from Chronicle. The originals are located in RGB, f. 386. Sources are as follows: Entry for 8 January 1909 (Chronicle 426V Entry for 18 January 1909 (Chronicle 426), Entry for 20 January 1909 (Chronicle 4271. Chronicle does not indicate if these entries are dated, given in full, or extracted from a longer version. 19. "H HHKorfla He jiio6h j1. He neHaBHfleji, He crpagaji. H bhc sToro, Bcerqa xax apHTCJib, fla^Ke Koma jtpyrHM Kaxcyiocb aKxepoM. " Letter to Liudmila Vilkina ( 1902), quoted in Gasparov (1991:28). Briusov enacted a similar history o f myth- creation in his relationship with Nina Petrovskaia. See Khodasevich (1976:7-60). 20. Briusov maintained his earlier idealization of Kommissarzhevskaia in the poem he wrote for a memorial service dedicated to the actress, held in Moscow shortly after the actress’s death in February, 1910. The poem, duly entitled “Verses to Melisande” {Stikhi k M elizande), were subsequently published in the collection, “For All” in Mirror of Shadows (Dlia vsekh, Zerkalo tenei): ”KaK MejiHsaHfla, H Tbi ypoHHJia Kopony B rjiyOoKHH poAHHK./ rijiaKajia flonro, nanpacHO KJioHHJia nafl BJiaroit npo3pa4HOH C B O H JiHK...” (Like Melisande, you dropped your crown in a deep well and cried for a long time, inclining your translucent visage over the dampness in vain). Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 3 V. The ‘‘Seagull of the Russian Stage” as fem m e fragilei Kommissarzhevskaia and Chekhov Even as women gained greater visibility in Russian civic life, the New Woman, with her symbols o f freedom, the latchkey and the cigarette, still vied for prominence in the public imagination with the femme fatale. Whether they marketed politicization or sexuality, these types “wouldn’t stay put”‘ in their challenge to the prevailing social order. In the theater, the New Woman image was associated primarily with the works of Henrick Ibsen, and Kommissarzhevskaia herself acquired prominence as the “muse of the new drama” (rmiza novoi dramy) after 1906, when she used her theater as a platform for innovative ideas in performance and dramatic text." Yet at the turn of the century, the actress was associated, in part, with another kind o f muse, the femme fragile: an inversion o f the femme fatale image that worked to maintain the status quo by elevating ideals of purity, fragility, passivity, and self-sacrifice as models for behavior for women and furnishing these ideals as inspiration for male creative work. Half a decade before the turn o f the century, Chekhov’s play The Seagull presented audiences with a new, psychologically and historically Russian, interpretation o f the femme fragile type in the character of Nina Zarechnaia, and Kommissarzhevskaia was the first to interpret this role for theater audiences. However, as much as Chekhov’s new femme fragile conveyed many o f the qualities associated with idealized femininity, the charac terization also contained the genesis of the New Woman’s drive for social independence and freedom of self-definition. This complexity raises several questions: how did the fictional heroine o f The Seagull embody for her contemporary audiences both the Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 4 ‘ ‘ ' ’ fem m e fragile” and the New Russian Woman? What function did this image serve in Kommissarzhevskaia's identity as a performer, and how did this role manifest itself in the actress’s literary relationship with its creator, Anton Chekhov? As illustration to his delineation o f Silver Age types, Golub (1994) glosses over Kommissarzhevskaia’s achievements in theater reform to present her as exemplar fem m e fragile. Golub’s analysis is informed by postmodern concepts o f negotiation and exchange. In his model, the birth o f artistic models as social types is described as the product of the union between the intellectual power o f (male) dramatists and the reproductive capacity o f the (female) actor, and by embodying the literary creations of male dramatists, these performers thus served as active “muse,” transubstantiating abstract idea into corporeal form. Moreover, according to Golub, the muse was con ceived as a bipolar structure composed o f a “malevolent (carnal)” and a “beneficent (divine) face,” the fem m e fatale and fem m e fragile, and both aspects of the Janus-styled inspirational construct were at once product of, and servant to, the male creative imagination. This mutuality of creation continues. Both aspects of the muse were “con ceived by men,” yet also “often adapted and subverted by the women who played them” (Golub 1994:40), where “subversion” is a positive description of women performers’ attempts to gain some authority in a male-dominated environment. Golub’s isolation of the fem m e fragile as muse, and her manipulative potential (what Senelick refers to as ‘complicity’ in image-making), with Kommissarzhevskaia as model, forms part of the subtext for the present chapter. The use o f a shared idiom as a means to effect control (as short-lived Or illusory as it might be) was evidenced in the epistolary relationship Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 5 between Kommissarzhevskaia and Chekhov as the discourse and imagery associated with the fem m e fragile. In Golub’s equation, the dancer Ida Rubenshtein exemplified the fem m e fata le type to Vera Kommissarzhevskaia’s fem m e fragile.^ Rubenshtein’s cult o f the body threatened traditional notions o f female sexuality and propriety (“shameful” was the way in which the decorous Stanislavsky described Rubenshtein’s subsequent private produc tion of Oscar Wilde’s Salome ) / Golub clarifies the appeal o f the fem m e fa ta le in that she conveyed an “erotic aestheticism” for her audiences, whereas the fem m e fragile commanded by an “ascetic eroticism ’ Based on its extreme exaggeration of the concept of fem ininity, this latter type seems the most insidious, implying a combination of both the fin-de-siécle “household saint” and “woman-child” types. By elevating yet simultaneously devaluing innocence and purity, it is an anti-eroticism that allures by its denial of sexuality. Golub’s treatment o f Kommissarzhevskaia as exemplar of the fem m e fragile is schematic and based primarily on the Nina Zarechnaia role; likewise, his inclusion of an isolated newspaper caricature to support his view o f the seductive allure of Kommissarzhevskaia as “ascetic erotic” is not entirely convincing.^ Yet despite the weakness o f a reductive construct such as the fem m e fragile to represent the individual, its general characteristics predominated around the turn o f the century as a behavioral model. In the discourse of the day, when conservative critics sought to praise an actress’s stage appeal, they articulated it by the term zhenstvennost ' (^femininity ”), implying conventional notions of an idealized, demure, self-effacing feminine nature,® and tum-of-the-century Russia shared with bourgeois Europe and Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 216 America the general promotion o f this model. This conceptualization entered into the philosophy of John Ruskin, whose teachings attracted Kommissarzhevskaia. Ruskin promoted widely shared beliefs describing men and women in oppositional terms: active/passive, physical, intellectual strength/weakness, creative/receptive, etc. His ideas on community had influenced Tolstoy earlier in the century, and the publication of Ruskin lectures in the World o f Art journal towards the century’s end indicates the degree to which his ideas also appealed to the aesthetic intelligentsia. In the U.S., the “True Womanhood” movement espoused fundamentals of “piety, purity, submissive ness, and domesticity” (Welter 1973:225) identical to the Russian conception of femininity. The principles behind “True Womanhood” and Femininity gave rise to images of woman as the “household saint,” protected by the hearth but needing a male intercessor to negotiate the outside world. Moreover, her gentle physical and emotional state prompted yet another idealization, “woman-as-child.” At least for American audiences in 1882, the term was evocative enough to cause promoters o f the first English language production of A Doll’s House to herald Ibsen’s New Woman, Nora, as “A Child Wife Thus, by referring to Kommissarzhevskaia as the “fragile child o f her time,” Aleksandr Kugel’ was drawing on popular visual and literary imagery that associated the ethos o f fem ininity with the childlikeness o f the “woman-as-child:”* an tendency toward emotional extremes, erratic attention, and an almost embarrassing candidness. Indeed, Bravich (1911:147-148) recounts that the actress sometimes wrote about herself using this imagery: Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 7 [Tomorrow duej to some article that Fve become interested in or eloquent words spoken by some intelligent individual I destroy yesterday’s idol and become confused, not knowing to whom I should now pray; but after an hour, perhaps. Til latch onto some new sensation, and I’ll assure myself that the last one was the strongesL be it good or bad.' Visual assesstnent o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s physical size and personality led to a similar analogy with adolescence even among associates who were well her Junior in age, such as Symbolist poets Andrej Belii and Aleksandr Blok. Belii (1990:356) was disconcerted by the actress’s “stem and timid” demeanor, with “pursed lips, like a child” and a “schoolgirl’s expression,” and Blok, who was directly involved with the Dramatic Theater in its final three years, eulogized her “small figure with the passion of expectation and hope in its dark blue eyes,” “younger, much younger, than many of us” (Blok 1962:416). As discussed in Chapter II, Kommissarzhevskaia’s diminutive stature and exuberant stage presence prompted her casting in youthful roles even when the actress was well into her thirties. By immortalizing Kommissarzhevskaia as the naive and vulnerable juvenile, KugeTs phrase also indirectly alluded to popular Euro pean literary and visual imagery that idealized the (girl)child as the state of perfection- moral and physical purity— that would be lost when the child attained womanhood. Yet when we compare this aspect of the fem m e fragile type with its dramatic representation in The Seagull, we find that it is now Chekhov, with Kommissarzhev skaia as the co-creator of the role of Nina Zarechnaia, who has “subverted” the model ** [3aBTpa| Ha ocHOBaHHH KaKOH-HHôygk yBjieioneit M eH H craTbH h j i h KpacHopeqHBbix c j i o b y M H o r o 'lejioBCKa, h paaôHBaio BHepaaiHHM h a o j i h ocraiocb pacrepBHHaa. we 3HaB, K O M y m h c Tenepb M OAHTbca, h lepea nac. Moscer 6bixb, OpocaKJCb 3a KaKHM-HHôygb HosbiM ouryiqeHHeM H y B e p H K J ceôjt, h t o TOJibKo TO cHJibHo 'iTo KpaifHe. 6yAb o h o 3j i o h j i h goSpo. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 8 of conventional expectation for women. Nina Zarechnaia does indeed reach adulthood when she relinquishes her naivete about life, but personal loss is then replaced by a different, more progressive, value: recognition o f her vocation in service to society. In Chekhov’s play, as in Kommissarzhevskaia’s life, the child-woman is not destroyed by reaching maturity but strengthened by the new power she has acquired through suffer ing to control her own fate.® Judging by the public outcry at the play’s debut, Nina Zarechnaia represented a new interpretation o f the fem m e fragile, elevating psychologi cal strength and social action rather than emotional suffering and passivity, a model for behavior which was only on the verge of finding acceptance in the real life experience. For all the pervasiveness of the concept o f “femininity,” the first Alexandrine audience did not accept the new Russian fem m e fra g ile nor her vehicle. The Seagull. Simply put, the October 1896 opening “flopped,” as Chekhov subsequently wrote to his brother, citing as probable causes audience misunderstanding, acting deficiencies, and misgivings about his own dramaturgic ability."’ As far as the audience and actors were concerned, Chekhov was correct in his Judgment. The new drama bewildered Alexan drine Theater actors and audiences by its “undramatic” literary and theatrical form." Brought up on the “theater of representation,” as Stanislavsky referred to classical theatricality, performers and viewers had no foundation from which to comprehend the play’s scenic and receptive demands. The company had difficulty realizing the acting truth and ensemble style required by the subtle dramaturgy, nor was the audience, used to being entertained by bold gestures and heightened emotional expression, tolerant o f the play’s hidden meanings, pauses, and intimations. Chekhov’s Seagull was too subtle Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 9 and “abstract” (as Meierkhol’d referred to Chekhov’s last play. The Cherry Orchard^ for its first audience and actors to comprehend adequately.*’ Not surprisingly, the negative response with which the Alexandrine audience greeted The Seagull was similar to the theater audience’s reception of Ibsen’s A Doll’s House almost a decade prior, when Mariia Savina chose to premiere the Ibsen piece for her 1884 benefit performance. This comparison is significant, because the two plays presented challenged existing models of social behavior for women. Even more pertinent to Russian theater, in The Seagull Chekhov restated Ibsen’s glimpse o f European bourgeois life to reflect the Russian cultural experience in an original way that altered audience perception and as well as performance technique. Chekhov was indeed correct when he later wrote concerning his play’s failed debut that “all the elements were against it.” '^ Alexandrine star Elizaveta Levkeeva had chosen the play for her benefit performance in 1896, and advertising, production schedule and, as noted above, the actors’ training and audience and actor performance expectation all colluded to create an inevitable first-night defeat. Although Levkeeva did not perform in her benefit choice, the audience came expecting to be entertained with a light comedy analogous with the actress’s repertory. The play was produced in nine days, with only six rehearsals (a fact which in and o f itself was not overly surprising for a period in which theaters generally allocated only a month for new production rehears als),*^ but only four rehearsals were conducted with the leading role. Marina Savina was first offered the lead, but due to personal vanity or professional wisdom the matur ing Alexandrine doyenne recognized that she could play neither the youthful Nina (as Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 220 Chekhov hoped) nor the aging Arkadina (director Karpov’s choice). Finally, the role of Nina Zarechnaia was offered to Kommissarzhevskaia, and so only by the third rehearsal did the play begin to evolve with Kommissarzhevskaia performing the pivotal character. By all accounts the Alexandrine actors simply were not trained for the subtle style of acting and ensemble performance structure which the play required. This was apparent to Chekhov who, at the play’s fourth rehearsal encouraged the actors to “act less” and to do things “simply, like people usually do in real life.” * ® But after two superb final rehearsals, the weak and uninspired public presentation elicited extensive audience derision. In general, the play’s initial failure was not the result o f inherent staging flaws or weak characterizations, as Chekhov’s self-criticism might have sug gested, but because its content and style did not conform to audience or actor expecta tion. Its subsequent resuscitation by the Moscow Art Theater two years later and its eventual stature as the company’s premiere piece came at the expense o f the Alexan drine Theater’s dismal first showing. As the play, phoenix-like, would be resurrected by the more perspicacious Moscow Art Theater, within the play the fictional Nina Zarechnaia rises from passive disillusionment to self-belief and social action. Much of the play reads like a archetypal fem m e fragile story, such as Chekhov’s friend Ignatii Potapenko’s popular melodrama. The Enchanted Tale ( Volshehnaia skazka). in which Natalia Petrovna transforms from a “spoiled and flighty child-youth” to “a mature, thinking individual with betrayed dreams ” (Review in luzhnyi krai (20 May 1901) in Chronicle 163). (The role of Natal’ia Petrovna was Kommissarzhevskaia’s second most-performed role at the Alexandrine).*^ Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 221 In The Seagull, a sheltered, idealistic provincial girl, Nina Zarechnaia, is attracted by the glamor of artistic life and dreams o f becoming an actress. She abandons her lake home and suitor Treplev to devote herself to Trigorin, a writer who is also the paramour of Treplev's mother, Arkadina. In despair, the aspiring playwright Treplev randomly shoots a seagull, and the gesture becomes an omen o f Nina’s fate. Trigorin soon abandons Nina and their child, who eventually dies. Nina returns home, where she reveals her history to Treplev. At this point Nina’s story diverges from that of a heroine from a drawing room melodrama and approaches the ranks o f the tragic, as her strength of character is made clear to everyone but herself. In her final speech to Treplev, Nina portrays herself as uncertain and despairing (is she a seagull or an actress?), but her recounted actions reveal that she has indeed found fulfillment, not in self-sacrifice to another’s needs and ego, but in recognition o f her own inner potential and in self dedication to art. Her rise from innocent child to scarred but determined young woman is punctuated by Treplev’s response. Whereas Treplev cannot overcome his own despair and shoots himself the wounded seagull is reborn through a new-found faith and trust in her ability to shape her own future. Karpov (1911:72) was only partially correct when he identified Nina Zarechnaia as representing the “unhappy, affronted female soul” (neschastnaia, oskorblentiaia zhenskaia diishd) (i.e., a true ^ “ fem m e fragile"). Such an accounting neither considers the vitality Nina shows at the end of the play nor justifies the mass appeal the role had for independent-minded young women at the turn of the century. Nina Zarechnaia erhbodied the self-sacrificial ideals o f earlier Russian dramatic heroines Katya (Ostrov Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 2 sky’s The Storml and Larisa (Ostrovsky’s Dowervless BrideL for whom the quest o f love defines the self and life’s purpose. But whereas self-destruction was her predeces sors’ answer when that ideal was destroyed, Nina Zarechnaia gathers inner strength fi'om her emotional ordeal and transforms from passive receptor to activist. As the play gained popularity (largely through its successful production on the Moscow Art Theater stage), especially in the early years of the century young women ignored the cautionary tale and identified with the idealistic Nina. This identification resulted in what Schuler (1996:19) dubbed “The Nina Zarechnaia Epidemic,” and “for young women eager for independence, adventure, and meaningful activity, she was an attractive symbol o f self- sacrifice and devotion to a higher calling.”'* The Chekhov model was clothed in the characteristics o f the fem m e fragfle (i.e., self-sacrifice, devotion), but it also encouraged women to seek self-fulfillment outside the home, and for a new generation of women who rejected the confines o f domestic life, the prize would seem to have outweighed the cost. Yet perhaps the allure o f this epidemic’ was also related to Kommissarzhev skaia herself. Despite its inauspicious beginning and Kommissarzhevskaia’s own inability to sustain her role in the opening night performance,'"' subsequent Alexandrine performances of The Seagull were well-received, and as it had during the play’s final dress rehearsal, the actress’s appearances again began to “light up” the stage in what Potapenko lauded as “inspired acting.Although the play was pulled after less than a dozen performances, Kommissarzhevskaia continued to bring the play on tour and thus also popularized the role among provincial audiences. The perceived “naturalness” Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 3 with which Kommissarzhevskaia interpreted the role o f Nina Zarechnaia, combined with details from the actress s personal history, added credence to Kommissarzhevskaia’s metaphoric idealization as the wandering seagull. Certainly, Kommissarzhevskaia’s sensitivity to the kind of acting needed for the play, akin to what Stanislavsky was able to achieve with his Moscow Art Theater company, helped her successful depiction as Nina Zarechnaia in later performances. Kommissarzhevskaia was aware o f the ensemble acting the play required,"^ and her acting style would seem to have well-suited the play’s performative needs.— This was one reason why Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchen ko soon considered hiring Kommissarzhevskaia for their theater. Indeed, negotiations were explored between the Moscow Art Theater and Kommissarzhevskaia even prior to the actress’s resignation from the Alexandrine Theater in fall 1902. Due to his own close relationship with the Moscow Art Theater, Chekhov was also aware that Kommissarzhevskaia was considering Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko’s offor. Although the writer did not always predict accurately the outcome of Kommissarzhev skaia’s actions, in this case he was correct in surmising that she would not choose to join .^ Motivated by a sense o f freedom from the restrictions of the Imperial stage organization and a desire for aesthetic independence, when Kommissarzhevskaia’s resignation from the Alexandrine Theater was formally accepted in September o f that year, she set about forming the first of two theaters. The circuitous nature of Kommissarzhevskaia’s search for a dramaturgy and performance style fueled the aviary imagery that was beginning to be associated with her public persona. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 4 Likewise, Kommissarzhevskaia’s appellation as the “Seagull of the Russian stage” came about not only because o f her instinct for the scenic demands o f the role of Nina Zarechnaia. There was a tragic element in her private biography induced by events that were similar to the life of Chekhov’s fictional heroine,^ and like Nina Zarechnaia, Kommissarzhevskaia had also overcome personal emotional duress to go on to a career of self-dedication to art. The symbol o f the wounded, homeless seagull seemed an appropriate description of the actress’s life, and biographers and eulogizers also found poetic justice in the fact that Kommissarzhevskaia’s last rehearsal in Tash kent prior to her early death had been for The Seagull. In critical reviews and memorial texts alike, the actress’s identity as Nina Zarechnaia occurs alongside aviary imagery describing her earthly journey."* For example, in his article included in the first commemorative album dedicated to the actress, Ivan Sheglov (Leontiev) (in Karpov 1911 ;3 82-3 86) explained her facility with the role as the expression of personal familiarity with the circumstances and personality o f Nina Zarechnaia. In referring to the final act of the play in which Nina makes the agonized confession to Treplev, “I am a seagull, and may God help all homeless wanderers” (Ia-chaika...i dapom ozhet G ospod' vsem bezpriiiitnym skU al’ isaml), Sheglov concluded that in Kommissarzhevskaia’s rendition, this scene was no longer theater but real life: And in this fragmented. heart-wTenching story of the Seagull. Vera Fedorovna unsuspectingly told her life story...Isn't it strange?..a fair-liaired girl with frightened eyes and a trembling voice disclosed her own biography to the public from a theater stage. (Shcheglov in Karpov 1911:383-4) Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 5 (The ‘girl’ was thirty-two years old at the time). Certainly muse and writer came together in this role, as the actress herself admitted in a letter to Chekhov. Following the triumphant second performance, Kommissarzhevskaia attempted to encourage the author, who had fled St. Petersburg after the first night’s fiasco: “Your, no, our “Seagull” is alive,” she wrote. “My soul has become one with it forever” (Ja srostas’s nei dushoi navek) (#38 Letters 58). Years later, Chekhov confided to Karpov: “She performs Nina as if she were in my soul, listening to my intonation’’— “No one under stood me so truly and so profoundly as did Vera Fedorovna.”'^ Many of Chekhov’s romantic heroines were new fem m es fragiles, and Kommissarzhevskaia ’s character and private demeanor seemed to epitomize the literary model to a certain extent. As an ideal type, Chekhov’s heroines seek self-definition through love, and as muse, they offer an “ephemeral glimpse o f happiness” (Smith 1973:80). I suggest the following examples to support Smith’s (1973:74) set of modifiers for Chekhov’s romantic heroines: like Liza in A Doctor’s Visit she has the sign of “intelligent suffering;” the lady with the lapdog, Anna Sergeevna, has the “purity of a decent naive woman, ” and Anna Alekseevana, the heroine o f About Love, has “cordial, intelligent eyes ” and is “elegant, refined.” The Chekhov romantic heroine conveys “femininity” through her innocent, childlike optimism about life; genteel and even elegant demeanor devoid of worldly cynicism; submissive and fi^agile, “with large eyes and corporeal frailty... reminiscent of some timid animal, a deer or a hare ” ; the desultory seagull could perhaps be added to the list o f animal archetypes. In private life Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 6 Kommissarzhevskaia was modest and retiring, and memorists share Brushtein’s (1956:105) description o f Kommissarzhevskaia as “timid” and lacking in “theatrical flamboyance.” Stanislavsky, who championed Chekhov’s views on stage production, shared the writer’s idealized view o f women, and once touted Kommissarzhevskaia as “the Russian Réjane [referring to the popular French actress G abrielle Réjatte (1856- I920)-klm'\ in femininity and elegance” {po zhenstvennosti i iziashchestvti)}* Karpov (1911:21), with whom Kommissarzhevskaia worked at the Alexandrine and later in her own Dramatic Theater, more pointedly summarized her as “extremely insecure in her powers, modest...unable to find her way” (chelovek kraine netiverettnyi v svoikh silakh, skromnyi...neumehtshchii probival sebe dorogn): and even though this description is not entirely flattering, nonetheless it suggests the degree of vulnerability which the actress projected. Indeed, although in actuality Kommissarzhevskaia was a determined individual, aware o f her power on stage and the significance of her theaters, her letters to colleagues and fnends are often filled with self-doubt and distress. Yet as the Nina Zarechnaia role indicated, the concept of the new fem m e fragile implied the vulnerabil ity of what might be termed “noble suffering,” where the individual, imbued through experience with an inspiring fortitude, becomes not the object o f pity, but reverence, even adoration. On and off stage, as a fem me fragile muse, Kommissarzhevskaia offered Chekhov a living model for his literary ideas. Although he did not live to write a play for her, as he hoped, their relationship neatly worked itself within this agreed pattern. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. I l l For the past century, scholars have attempted to define the nature o f the personal relationship between Chekhov and Kommissarzhevskaia. Some critics argue for a one-sided relationship, with Kommissarzhevskaia attempting to “cultivate” (Jad ’ tivirovat ’ ) a relationship with the unresponsive writer (Sobolev 1930). Others refer to a "romance manqiiee" on both their parts.^ Smith ( 1973:123) takes the strongest stance, and based on a comparison o f the writer's literary heroines and his real life romantic interests, concludes that Kommissarzhevskaia “was possibly the only woman for whom Chekhov’s feelings were stronger than hers for him.” Kommissarzhevskaia biographer Al’tshuller (1977:147) ignores the erotic component and suggests that common aesthetic world views brought writer and actress together, citing an “understanding of contemporaneity,” a "striving for the future,” and an “artistic recreation o f the world with all its psychological nuances, half-tones and watercolor subtlety.” Each of these definitions contains a grain of truth. Kommissarzhevskaia definitely did attempt to "cultivate’ “her” author, and Chekhov showed in his letters at times a touching concern for the actress’s private and profes sional life. The question of physical attraction aside (though Kommissarzhevskaia’s delicate build and large, expressive eyes might elicit comparisons with the ideal heroine of Chekhov’s prose), their shared aesthetic platform and personal philosophy also worked to shape their epistolary relationship. Extant letters indicate that between 1896 and his death in 1904 Chekhov and Kommissarzhevskaia corresponded and met infrequently, and the tone and details in their letters indicate that more than a professional relationship existed between them. In R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 2 8 fact, in commending St. Petersburg to Nemirovich-Danchenko, Chekhov mentioned Kommissarzhevskaia, “whom I consider a great actress,” and not Lidiia Yavorskaia, his companion the previous spring.^® Yet Chekhov's letters to Kommissarzhevskaia and to female admirers Lidiia Mizinova, Elena Shavrova, and Lidiia Avilova are alike in one respect: Chekhov avoided discussing personal feelings and often deflated the intimate nature o f his interlocutor’s comments by means o f a jocular retort. Likewise, his letters to the ‘great actress’ are generally reserved and noncommital, although not without a show o f enthusiasm and support, and when the topic approaches personal issues the letters also project the same degree o f ambiguity which generally characterized Chekhov’s relationships with women other than Knipper (or Yavorskaia) (Smith 1973; de Maegd-Soëp 1987 passim ). Indeed, in his letters to Kommissarzhevskaia can be found the same enigmatic quality that has generally stymied researchers investigating Chekhov’s life and work. In my estimation, Chekhov’s letters to Kommissarzhevskaia show the admiration and concern o f a mentor to an affable pupil. Chekhov responded more directly when Kommissarzhevskaia appeared needy or helpless; otherwise, when the ‘muse’ attempted to put her own ideas into practice, his attitude bordered on condescension. For the most part, in her letters to Chekhov Kommissarzhevskaia presented herself like the Nina Zarechnaia o f Act I: naively exuberant and determined, yet with enough self-assurance to place herself on an equal footing with the writer. Her letters are filled with requests, expressions o f interest and reliance on Chekhov as co-creator, and faith in her own potential and ability. It is likely that her success as Chekhov’s first R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 2 9 Nina Zarechnaia and the writer’s continued show of support bolstered this attitude about herself. Her letters to Chekhov are familiar and personal, like her letters to close friends Karpov and Khodotov, but more controlled and never reach the depth o f self revelation as in letters to the latter. Undoubtedly Kommissarzhevskaia enjoyed commu nicating with the writer, known for his wit and charming demeanor, who understood her aesthetic views, and to whom she did not need to emphasis her dedication to art above family life, as she had done in a letter to supporter and suitor Sergei Tatishchev.^^ In her letters, she sometimes placed herself on an equal footing with the writer: she advised him about his health, encouraged his writing; but most often used the letters to convey a request. Whereas in other correspondences at this time the actress metamor phosed into the omniscient mythic “Gamaiun” and the heavenly orb “Light” (Svel), her pen names in letters to Karpov and Khodotov, in her letters to Chekhov there is no similar play at personality: she consistently signed herself “V. Kommissarzhevskaia.” In this way she emphasized her identity as a professional and maintained a respectful distance, important for the continuation of a professional livelihood in which she hoped to involve the dramatist. Chekhov’s attitude to Kommissarzhevskaia may indeed have been engendered by the actress’s “aesthetic erotic” appeal, as Golub suggests was part o f her fem m e fragile allure, but Chekhov’s letter are filled with an abstruseness that at times antago nized his interlocutor. On the one hand, they exchanged information about private health matters, yet when Kommissarzhevskaia attempted to elicit a deeper emotional response, the writer glossed over her attempts, avoiding insight into his motivation or R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 0 feelings. Paradoxically, Chekhov continued to offer aid to Kommissarzhevskaia throughout the twelve years o f their correspondence, but this aid was often in the form o f promises that could not be kept (e.g., an offer to write a play just for her; a promise to send her plays that were destined to be performed by the Moscow Art Theater). Chekhov was attracted to Kommissarzhevskaia’s overriding dedication to her ' calling, ’ yet he also could denigrate her entrepreneurial activities, as he did in a letter to Olga Knipper from early 1903. However, even after 1900, when Chekhov’s personal attention turned to Knipper, he continued to harbor a sentimental attitude towards Kommissarzhevskaia in his letters to her as the muse of his first major production. From the point of view o f exchange, their relationship was one-sided, and these letters formed the biography of an uneasy relationship between a creator and a muse who aspired to the role of co-creator. The production o f The Seagull was the motivation for the first letters in their epistolary exchange, and the familiar tone of even Kommissarzhevskaia’s first letter to Chekhov contains the combination of ebullience and conviction that also mark Chekhov’s literary romantic heroines. In a letter written after the second, successful, production, the actress registered her personal enthusiasm for the play; R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 1 [21 November 1896] Tve just returned from the theater. Anton Pavlovich, dear. We were triumphant. Success was complete and unanimous.]..] How I would like to see you right now. and even more E wish you could have been here and heard the unanimous cry of “Authorl” Your. no. our “Seagull.” because my soul has become one with it forever, is alive, suffering, and believing so fervently that it compels many others to believe. "Think about your calling, and do not fear life.” Sincerely. V. Kommissarzhevskaia* (#38 Letters 58) Dejected by the first night’s performance, Chekhov had abruptly left St. Peterburg for Moscow. In her letter, the “muse” sought to inspire as an equal, bolstering the writer’s flagging spirits by rephrasing a line from his play to fit the occasion. By showing him his own genius, she in turn shared the glory o f the victory with her co-creator: the play quotation in her letter resonated for Kommissarzhevskaia and became her own personal ideology.^" Once the actress had interpreted them on stage, the dramatist’s words acquired a private meaning for her and guided her actions throughout the rest of her life. For this reason, the role of Nina Zarechnaia also helped Kommissarzhevskaia to define her own relationship to her chosen career path. In a second letter, written a few months after its opening performance, the play The Seagull still served as the underlying connector to their relationship. The medal lion mentioned in the letter refers to the personal item Chekhov gave Kommissarzhev skaia to use in the play, and its mention functions here to motivate a possible meeting. ** CewHac Bepnyjiacb H 3 reaxpa, A h t o h flaBJioBHu, rojiySuHK, Hama Bsjuia. Ycnex noaHbiH, eRHHOflymHbift...KaK m h c x o h c t c s i ceAqac Bac BHflerb, a eme 6ojibme xonexca, qroGbi Bbi 6buiH 3gecb, cjibimaim aror eaHHoqyumbiH xpmc: "aBxopa. " Bama. Hex, Hama "Haioca," noxowy h x o si cpocnacb c h c h aymoft naseK, xuma, cxpaqaex h aepyex xax ropH'io. * i t o M H o m x yBepoeaxb aacxaBHX. "flyMaiixe * e o c b o c m npH3BaHHH h He 6oftxecb » c h 3 H h ." )KM y Bamy pyicy. B KowMHCcapxceBCKaa R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 2 In the letter (with which she included a photo from the last act of The Seagull and her address), she refers to Chekhov’s planned trip to St. Petersburg: [end February 1897] Despite my desire to thank you. Anton Pavlovich, for the news about you and the plays. I couldn’t until now. I nwself was often ill this winter, and tliere were many sad events in n y family. So w hen are you coming? I terribly want to see you and talk with you about a lot of things. I have your medallion. If you come, you’ll visit me? Potapenko told me that you’re expected to arrive aroimd March 1. Is that so? I doubt I’ll go anywhere for Lent, although I’m falling apart completely. Do come. Anton Pavlovich. I terribly want to see you.* (#40 Letters 59) The language is colloquial, exuberant, and Kotnmissarzhevskaia’s fragmented episto lary style is apparent in the loose organizational structure o f the letter and its two disconnected post scripts. Among her correspondences to friends, her correspondence with Chekhov is significant for its lack o f philosophizing and emphasis on the writer’s emotional responses to her surroundings. Indeed, the focus is on the intended reader: it is an active entreaty with a basic message, ‘T terribly want to see you,” iterated through out the letter. The writer was quickly becoming a restorative for Kommissarzhevskaia, someone she turned to in order to revive her waning spirits and energies in the competi tive atmosphere o f the Alexandrine.” Despite their apparent mutual desire for a meeting, none took place that Spring. Kommissarzhevskaia later wrote Chekhov aboard a steamer while on tour with the Alexandrine troupe. The Seagull remained a leitmotif in their correspondence: * HecM oTpst tia see moh )Ke;iauHe cxaiaTb Baw. Ahtoh flaBJiOBH'u cnacHOo ia BecroHKy o ceoe w ia ubecbi. H e Mor.ia cae-iaTb aroro ao chx nop. fl vutoro ooJiejia axy iHwy cawa. h b ceMbe y m chm Macca rpycTHbix codbiTHft. Koraa 5 K e Bbi npHcaexe? Vine yoK acH o xouexcji Bac nosnaarb h noroeopHTb c Bawii o MHoroM. JKctoh Bam y mchx. EaiH npHeaere. BCflb oyaexe y mchji? floTaneHKO voie roBopaji hto Bac 3aecb 5K ayx k I wapxa. fla? 5 1 Bpjra an xyaa-HHoyab yeay Ha nocx, xoxx cobccm pacKJienaacb. ripHesxcaHxe. Ahxoh flaBJioBHH. M iie yxcacHo xoxexcx Bac noBHaaxb. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 3 As you see. Anton Pavlovich. I'm writing you from the Volga. I’m going to Astrakhan for 10 performances. I've been meaning to write you in the country (I know you went there from Moscow) but recently my life has been such chaos that there’s no way I could have carried through an\ of nn intentions. I'm really sorry that we didn’t get to see each other. How's yoiu" health? Write me at the Astrakhan Sununer Theater. I’ll be there imtil June 16. Wish me luck. By the way. I’m staging The Seagull for my benefit performance. I have your medallion with me. and if you wanL I will send it to you. Write me which address 1 should send it to. this one or the other one. You and I are so little acquainted, but it doesn’t seem like it to me. I really wanted to see you and talk with you. You will write me. won’t vou?’ ^ Chekhov’s medallion again functioned as part o f the stated motivation for the letter and for a response from Chekhov. And again, unlike letters to Karpov, Khodotov, and others with whom Kommissarzhevskaia was primarily acquainted through her profes sional work in the theater, in which the expression of personal feeling is the most important element, in letters to Chekhov Kommissarzhevskaia seemed more focused on her interlocutor’s projected response, though in the above example, the abrupt shift in tone at the letter’s end from impersonal to personal intensifies the intimacy of the admission, “I really wanted to see you.” Despite Kommissarzhevskaia’s indirect enticement to confession, in his response Chekhov did not follow her lead and instead provided the actress with an entertaining account of life on the Volga and a health report. The pattern o f a droll response with no reference to Kommissarzhevskaia’s admissions of a personal nature begins to emerge *riHiny BaM . K aK BHjurre, c Bojini. A h t o h naaaoBHUH, eny b AcrpaxaHb aa 10 cneKraicjieH. H aaBHo xorejia aepK H V Tb B a.M asa aaoBa b flepcBHio k Baw ( h aaajia. h t o Bbi BcpayjiHCb Tyaa m MocKBbi). h o JK H Jia HocJiennee B peM H b t h k o m xaoce. h t o ne.vtbraiH M O obuio npKBecTH b H cnojiH C H H e xaKoe obi t o h h obijio HaM cpeHHe. Mae yjKacao ooanao. h t o Tax M bi c Baxm a ae aoBHflajiacb. Kax Banie aaopoBbeV HanauiHTe m h c gaa cjioaa b Acrpaxaab, JIcTaaH TeaTp. JI TaM apooygy ao lOni h i o h h . fIo)Ke.HaHTc ■ M a e ycaexa. Meixfly apoHKM . b ôeaet|)HC craaiao " H a a x y " . XeToa Baai co waoa. ecna x o t h t c . a ero Bbiauno, aaaaaiaTe, a o t o m v j k c a g p e c y aJia n o n p y r o M y . Mbi c Ba.vm Tax Majio laaxoMbi. a m h c 3To ne xaxceTC H . YjxacHo xoTCJia Bac aaneTb a aoroBcpaTb. HanauiHTe jxe, fla? R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 234 more strongly in Chekhov’s letters to her. “I’m glad you are well,” Chekhov’s letter began: but I don’t envy you traveling on the Volga. It’s always windy on the Volga, it smells of oiL the landscape is monotonous and the people on the steamships are boring [...| I planned to go to Sl Petersburg to take care of some things and see you. but in Moscow I became ill and was in a clinic for 15 days...The doctors have forbidden me to work, and now I’m like a theater bureaucrat; 1 don’t do anything, no one needs me. but I try to look busy. The final theme in this letter returned to the primary focus of their relationship, her role as Nina Zarechnaia in The Seagull. Chekhov requested a poster fi"om the Astrakhan production. Taken at face value, this request, his remark that she keep the medallion until she “was bored” with it, and his postscript (“Are you performing anywhere in the south this summer?. I’ll be there in August”) indicate that he too wished to maintain their fnendship. He also continued to offer his support and concern. Of course 1 wish you success as great and constant as my faith in your wonderful, kind talent. Only don’t get sick, please. Allow me to shake your hand and wish you alltliebesL (Chekhov 1978:VI.358-159) An exchange of letters between the actress and playwright in late fall 1898 illustrates the pattern of soulful entreaty and cajoling response that was being estab lished in their correspondence. Chekhov’s health is the focus of a letter from Kommissarzhevskaia written in October the next year, and in the letter she expressed herself in a very direct and even slightly overbearing tone: [8-9 October 1898] Anton Pavlovich, do what I’m going to request of you. It’s beastly that I’m speaking for n^rself. but you must feel how I am begging you. In Rostov-on-Don there R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 5 is a doctor ly the name of Vasil’e\\ You must go to him for a cure— he will cure you. Do this, do this, do this, do this. I don’t know how to beg you. Don’t think anything, don’t answer that this is nonsense, that you know what you need, that you can’t listen to everyone and so forth. Just do it for me. a stranger, go and do it. After all. this isn't so di£Bcult. May God protect you. But it would be awfiil. if you won’t do this, you’ll cause me pain. You will do it. right? V. Kommissarzhevskaia I’ll send you Vasil’e\ ’s address tomorrow. I don’t know it right now.' (#59 Letters 69) This letter best exemplifies the animated character o f Kommissarzhevskaia" s letters to friends and colleagues, yet without the emotional digressions and platitudes o f the lyrical element in her epistolary style that mark those literary texts. Also unusual for Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters, the content of this note is focused on a single topic, and the use of direct speech, punctuated by command forms and repetitions, diverge from the model of poetic language usually seen in her private letters. The actress clearly felt close enough to the writer with whom she was ‘little acquainted’ to advise him on personal matters concerning his health (and here there is no mention o f their profes sional concerns). Perhaps a mark of her impetuous nature is the fact Kommissarzhev skaia could pen a letter on such a vital topic, and yet omit the most important informa tion (see her post script). Indeed, the impulsive aspect o f the actress’s character which *Ahtoh riaBJioBini. caejiaÜTe hjih Meuji. qTo a Bac nonpomy. 3 to hhko. hto a roeopjo fl.aa vfeua. eig Bbi aojiacicbi noH V B C TB O B aTb. A'aA'a Bac nponiy. B PocTOBe-Ha-ÂoHy ecTb aoKXop BaciuibeB. Bbi aoJDKHbi noexaTb k E ievty acHHTbca— oh Bac BbiacHHT. CaeaaAre. caeJiaure. caeaeHTC. caeaaflTe , a ue anaio. khk Bac npocHTb. He ayMafixe HUHero, He oTBenaHTe. hto 3To nycraKH, hto Bbi inaeTe, hto Bbm uaao. hto Bcex lie nepecayniaetub h xaK aaaee. A npawo caeaaftxe aaa Meaa, a-na 'lysKoro HeaoBexa. Boab.M HTe h caeaaftTc, Beab dto ne tb k xpyano. Xpana Bac Bor. Ho yjKacHo. ecaH Bbi He caeaaftTe. npaMO ooab .vnie npHHHHUTe. Caeaaexe. fla? B. KoM.vntccap3 KeBCKaa R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 6 may well have caused Chekhov to later disregard her entrepreneurial exploits as capricious gesture rather than serious venture. At least in this exchange, Kommissarzhevskaia succeeded in conveying the intensity of her concern to Chekhov. The writer responded in kind: 2 November 1898 ....You write: Do this, do this, do this. But I say to you: You are kind. kind. kind, kind — a thousand timesî' When I return home to Taganrog. I ll be near Rostov and I will visit Vasil’ev. whom Tve already read and heard about Yet Chekhov’s syntactic replication, “You are kind, kind, kind, kind” (Ty— dobraia), of Kommissarzhevskaia’s repeated command “Do this” {Sdelaite) introduces a tone of appeasement. He also returned her gesture of friendly advice, but only regarding professional rather than private life (the recommendation o f a portrait artist). Only towards the letter’s end did Chekhov allow a brief show o f emotion: ...Your letter deeply touched me. and I thank you witli all my heart. You know how 1 regard you. and so you will understand how I tliank you and how happy I was to receive a letter from you. (#2465 Chekhov 1979: VII 317) In these letters, Chekhov’s direct admission of his regard for the actress in the formu laic yet ambiguous phrase You kfiow how / fe e l about you was the closest he came to openly admitting in the letters to a mutual emotional tie. Instead, he expressed his concern for her through concrete gestures, requesting a “very, very good” photograph of the actress and offering to personally contact the well-known painter Joseph Braz so that she could also have a formal portrait painted. In contrast to Kommissarzhevskaia’s * Bbi roanHTe: cgejiaMre, cgejiaftre, cgenaure. A a BaM: Bbi qoSpaa. goripaa, go6paa, goripaa... Tbicany paa! R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 7 effusive and spontaneous show o f emotion in her letters to him, Chekhov’s language remained polite, sometimes equivocal, yet nonetheless respectful in tone and language. A turning point in the patterns already established in their letters came in January 1899, when Kommissarzhevskaia was halfway into her third season with the Alexandrine Theater. Perhaps now assured o f Chekhov’s support, and certainly more secure in her acting success, the actress began to make requests o f the writer beyond personal health and her own immediate career. In a way, in her letter Kommissarzhev skaia overstepped the professional balance they had created by essentially appointing herself as literary adviser to Chekhov. After a brief introduction, “You’re surprised that I didn’t write— I couldn’t. I don’t want to write you out o f politeness...,” she abruptly shifted to the heart of the matter: I liave a request for you. and I'm writing you because of iL and I couldn’t for a long time because my soul is in horribly depressed state, and tliat's why I didn’t write. I'm sending you a book. Read it. and if you approve of tlie translation, please write even a few lines about it in New Time. The translation was done by a man who deeply understands Nietzsche . Messenger of Europe and News maligned the translation. The attacks are all unjust— it's a matter of personalities. Do what 1 ask if you can and so desire. I will be veiy grateful to you. and besides you. I wouldn’t go to anyone else with such a request. The letter’s tone is itiformal yet brusque: Kommissarzhevskaia hoped to gain Chekhov’s help in publishing a positive review of a translation of Nietzsche, whose merits (judging from the responses of its previous reviewers) would seem to lie basically in the fact that the translator had dedicated his work to the actress. The book review request was only part of the letter’s message. Growing dissatisfaction with the direction of the actress’s career was actually the fundamental R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 8 theme in this letter, and after relaying the letter’s external purpose, Kommissarzhevskaia moved to private matters. She was receiving criticism for performance homogeneity,^* and in her letter Kommissarzhevskaia acknowledged to Chekhov that her casting as fem m es fragiles in coming-of-age roles was fiircing her to doubt her acting potential. Here, she turns to Chekhov as a confidant; ...You want to know about me. but there's nothing to say. I'm performing all the time. I perform things that say little to my mind and almost nothing to my soul - the latter is shriveling and will drv up. and if there were some spring there, it would soon be exiiausted. For all this I’m having great success and 1 try vainly to understand what all the foss is about. Tliat’s all...Write me. Anton Pavlovich, please write me. Feel how 1 would like this. Lyrical confession displaced the formal request that initiated the text, and the intensity of the language suggests that emotional need that was the real motivation behind the writing of this letter. Concern for her professional life also figures strongly in this letter, and Kommissarzhevskaia approached Chekhov as her mentor, requesting his advice as to what she might perform for her benefit performance. “February 18 is my benefit, and 1 don’t know what to perform. Think of something,” she entreats him, “Write. That’s the main thing, write me. Okay?” Again, as in other letters to Chekhov, the content of the postscript also served to indicate the regenerating spirit the actress felt from her relationship with Chekhov. At this time of increasing professional and emotional R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 3 9 turmoil, in her postscript the actress added: “How I would like to see You. I really would”* (#63 Letters 70). Chekhov’s response (dated 19 January 1899) was as direct as her letter had been, but without an emotional component. In it, he Justified why he could not fulfill her request: he did not review books, and he no longer wrote for New Time (both Kommissarzhevskaia and Chekhov knew personally the conservative newspaper’s editor, Aleksei Suvorin). Yet it is apparent in the letter that Chekhov was disconcerted that he could not fulfil her request: “I’m disappointed, Vera Fedorovna. You’ve given me an insoluble task.” I'm disappointed that I can’t fulfill your wish, and I’m afraid you won’t believe how distressed 1 am. Your wish for me is holy, and not to be able to fulfill it is truly embarrassing. fChekhov PSSP: VIII 25-26) Further, Chekhov addressed the actress’s anxiety, generated by her repressive working environment, and advised her to transfer to the Moscow Maly Theater. Yet, as Sobolev * Ahtoh riaBJioBmi, aapaBCTByftre. Bbi yaMBJiem,!. nro « He nncajia- a He Morna. 5 1 ne xo'iy Bum micaxb H 3 BexcnHBocTH. A Kax n oGpaqoBaJtacb BameNty nncbMy. C rpam uo cnacH6o aa to. m to corjiacHJiHCb HcnoJiHHTb M O K ) npocb6y...y Memt flo Bac npocbGa, h a riHiiiy Bum ua-aa nee, a to 6bt flcjiro eute ne coGpajiacb. y Mena yacacHo yrneTeHHoe cocroaHHe «yiUH, h o rro ro a He mtmy. riocbiJiaic Baw KHHry, npoHTHTe, h ecjiH Bbi ogoGpMTe nepeBOfl, noacajiyftcTa, HariHmHTe o new b "Hob. Bpew." necKOJibKO xoTb crpox. flepeBoq 3 to t caejian lenoBeKOM. FJiyGoKo 'lyBCTBytoutHM HMume . H a nepeBog nanajin b "BecTttHxe Espotibi" h b "HoBocrax." HanagKH HecnpaBeqjiHBbie, xyr geno b JimiHocrax. CgeJiaÜTe. hto a tipomy. ecjiH Moacexe n xoxHxe— a 6ygy Baw oueHb GnaroqapHa h xpowe Bac h h k K o s t y 5 b i c xaxoH iipocbGoH He oGpaxHJiacb. Baw xouexca anaxb oGo mhc. a mhc Henero cxaaaxb. H Hxpaio Gea xoHita, Hipaio BeutH, oHCHb MaJio roBopautHe ywy h nonxH HHuero gyiue - nocneqnaa cacHMaexaca, coxhcx, h ecjiH H GbiJi xaw KaxoM-HMGyqb poqmrtoK, xo oh cKopo Hccanex. Ynex HMeio npn axoM orpoMHbiM H CHJttocb xiitexHO nonaxb, b new ace qeno. Hy box h Bce...A Bbi nanHrnHxe mhc, Ahxoh riaBJioBHH, noacajiyifcxa. HamnnHxe mhc— noqyBcxBytixe, xax mhc axoro xonexca. 18 (peBpajia Moit GeHecpHc, h a He anaic, nxo mhc cxaBHXb. FIpHayMaHxe, HanaiuHxe, rnaBHoe, HatnouHxe M H e. JJa? B. KoMMccapace.Bcxaa Kax M H C xoxejiocb Gbi ^acnoBHqaxb, npawo box xax xoxenocb Gbi. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 0 (1930) noted, it is surprising that Chekhov did not suggest that she Join the Moscow Art Theater, where the writer had already established ties and where, as previously indi cated, the owners were already well-disposed towards the actress. As we have seen in his letters, there was an element o f evasiveness in his relationship with Kommissarzhev skaia: a willingness to offer passive advice on her acting career (as in this letter), but a hesitancy in engaging her in discussion o f pursuits outside this realm. On the surface, the contents of letters such as this may well have caused critics like Smith (1973) to detect enamorement on the part of Chekhov, but keeping in mind the general circumstances of their professional ties it seems more likely this was a case o f the writer trying to maintain the relationship of mentor to a favorite pupil: hence the overabundance of apologies (“Your wish for me is holy”) for a matter that did not directly concern Kommissarzhev skaia or her career. Likewise, an air o f condescension can be detected: he openly alluded to intimate personal details ...Wliy are you ailing all the lime? Wliy don't you take a cime? After all. illnesses. especially women’s, spoil the mood, spoil life, and keep one from working. After all. I 'm a doctor. 1 know w ltat this is all about. but could not provide her with the concrete support she expected. The year 1900 did not mark a change in Kommissarzhevskaia’s work, but it did usher in a period of increased dissatisfaction with her Alexandrine roles. This failure is due, in large part, to the conditions o f theater reception at the time: as a State enter prise, the Alexandrine Theater transmitted the conservative tastes o f officialdom to a theater audience trained to consider performance as entertainment. Actresses (and actors) were commodities, and only rare performers (like Savina) could dictate to their R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 1 employers. Kommissarzhevskaia’s magnetism in stereotypical dramatic representations o f women was overwhelming, as captured in one reviewer’s account o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s fem ininity in her role as Natal ia Petrovna (The Enchanted Talel: To perform for Madame Kommissarzhevskaia is to live and sufifer... She ...does not blind by the lightening of e&ctive outbursts and scenes, but doctors the soul, warms the heart the harmony of sufifering and a chaste pure soul which protects her heroines, even in their degradation. (Varshavskii dnevnik tend Jutv 1900) in Chronicle 129) And since audiences celebrated her as fem me fragile, Kommissarzhevskaia’s continued casting in these roles assured the theater (and herself) of a good income. But Kommissarzhevskaia was not looking for transitory success, and she never relinquished a need to ^do something big’ in her lifetime and with her art. She was convinced of her calling as an actress; she did not doubt her ability to act (although she acknowledged difficulty with Shakespearean roles), she doubted the ability o f most contemporary drama (European and Russian) to truly respond to the times. For example, in a letter to Karpov from late July, 1900, she takes the director to task for his inability to understand her dramatic potential: You are definitely right when you say that I need to perform roles of Russian girls, definitely righL when you talk about the spiritual beautv of Mariia Andreeva [in Ostrovsky’ s The Poor Bride-klnt\. but where does it follow that / was attempting to portray types ‘distorted b\ deliberate affectation'? This is a mysteiy for me. But you consider that by playing only such roles and no others 1 fulfill my purpose on the stage. 1 don’t tliink so. Life takes its course, and tlte soul of Russian women of our time is more complicated and more interesting because of what is going on inside her. Tins soul may not have been passed down from Puslikin's Tat iana [heroine o f Pushkin's Eugene Onegin-klm\. but life has spun it out like a spider's web. and if a talented dramatist with the help of such an artist will retell such a soul’s struggle and demonstrate tliis web and the light that passes through it— this will be something familiar, understandable, necessary for the soul of the contemporary viewer, this will be natural, and an artist must be in command of natural feelings and witli tliem must R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 2 ignite people's hearts. I could sw much more to you on this theme, but you and I will never agree, and you again will begin to look for “literature" in my words.* (#90 Letters 86) The above excerpt is from a letter written to Karpov from Yalta only a few days before Kommissarzhevskaia was to meet with Chekhov. The intensity o f this letter, conveyed through its rambling syntax and its theme— her insistence on performing roles which she felt were significant for the day and which illustrated the irmer life of women trying to break out of societal molds— suggests the importance that aesthetic independence and social relevancy held for her especially at this time in her career. Kommissarzhevskaia probably looked to Chekhov as a dramatist capable o f voicing the soul and aspirations of the contemporary Russian women in ways that his box-office contemporaries Krylov, Potapenko, and Boborykin had not succeeded in conveying. To support this claim, we can also consider the actress’s exuberance for the Nina Zarechnaia role and her desire to perform each Chekhov role that had the possibility o f coming her w ay.^® In letter quoted above, Kommissarzhevskaia cast herself as ‘actor’ to the talented dramatist,’ * Bbi S e iy c J io B H o n p a s b i , r o B o p a , « rro M H e n a g o H i p a x b p o j iH p y c c K H X flc B y in e K , e e a y c jio B H o n p a B b i, r o B o p a o a y m e B H O H x p a c o r e M a p u i t A H n p e e B H b i, ho oTxyqa c n e a y e r , ‘ito h c rp e M H J ia c b H a o G p a x c a x b T H U b i, "H C K O B epK aH H bte H a p o u H b iM H a tp c p e K T a M H , " a r c g j i a M e n a T aH H a. Ho Bbi C H H T a e re . hto, n r p a a x o J ib K o x a x w e p o jiH h 6oJibine «H A 'aA 'w e — lu a u H X H cnoJiH H X b C B oe H a a n a q e H H e n a c u e n e , a a a x o r o H e c u H x a i o . )KH3Hb u a e x cbohm a e p e a o M , h a y m a py ccK O H a c e n u tH H b i H a o i e r o B peM C H H cjiosiC H ee h H H x e p e c n e e n o x o A p a G o x e , K o x o p a a b H eft H flex . H y u i a a x a a o c H o a e c a o e f t M o x e x H e o x o ftx H o x n y m ic H H C K o ft T a x b a n b i , ho xcw aH b a a x a n y j i a a x y o c H o a y n a y x H H o f t, h e c j m x a n a n x jiH B b if t g p a M a x y p r n p n homouth x a x o r o a c e a p x H c x a p a c c K a a c e x o 6 o p b 6 e x a x o f t q y iu H , n o K a a c e x h a x y n a y x H H y » c a e x , n x o n p o x o flH X q e p e a n e e —a x o 6 y q e x 6jih3Ko, n o n a x H o , nyxH o a j i a a y m n coB peuerm oro a p u x e a a , a x o 6 y q e x CTHXUHHO. a CXHXHHHblMH UyBCXBaM H gO JU K eH B Jiag eX b apX H C X H aO JU K eH HMH a c e x b C ep A U a J im fle ft. M n o r o Ç b i a M o r n a e m e c x a a a x b n a a x y x e M y , ho M b i c B a M H x y x H H K o rg a H e c o f ta e M c a , H B b i o n a x b " j iH x e p a x y p y " H a n n e x e H c x a x b a mohx c n o a a x . R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 3 and this desired alliance explain, at least in part, why the failure o f their August meeting only made the actress cling tighter to her dreams o f a new creative union with Chekhov. It is unclear who initiated the meeting, but it is documented that Kommissarzhevskaia and Chekhov met in Yalta in early August, 1900. To mark the occasion, Chekhov gave the actress two photos with divergent inscriptions that, in retrospect, represent the oscillating nature of their epistolary relationship. In one, Chekhov conveyed the prosaic message: “To Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia, in memory of Yalta, 3 August 1900, from her devoted Anton Chekhov” (Bepe <PeffopoBHe KoMMHccapxeBCKOH Ha naMsrrb o 6 Hjitc 3 aBrycra 1900r oTnpeMauHoro en AHTOHa HexoBa). The other inscription was more cryptic and carried the implication of psychological agitation: “To Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia, 3 August, on a blustery day when the sea roared, from quiet Anton Chekhov” {Bepe <PeaopBHa KoMMifccapxeBCKoit. 3 aarycra, b ôypHbift M SH b. kofmb uiyMejio Mope, o r THXoro AHTOHa HexoBà). Chekhov’s withdrawn mood had negatively affected their meeting, and Kommissarzhevskaia conveyed her frustration to Chekhov in writing the following week; [9-12 August 1900] Still I'm glad I saw you. Anton Pavlovich...! say "still" because I'm sorry and 1 don’t know why you and 1 talked so little. 1 didn't expect to find you like that. It seemed to me that when 1 would see you. 1 would fall on you witli questions and would say at least sometliing to you. This didn’t turn out. You were so "wrapped up" all the time. But ma\te tire problem lies in me. You know, it's awfully strange, but 1 was sorry for you tire whole time. 1 can’t figure this out clearly at all. nor can 1 explain it. but 1 was sorry — sorry to the point of sadness. And there was something ambiguous in you all the time, but 1 don't belier e iL and it seemed that all you needed to do was make some kind of motion and tliis ambiguit) would disappear. But when all is said and done. 1 have many good feelings about you. and in return allow me but tliis one thing: R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 4 always be as completely sincere as possible with me. You see. it's not openness that 1 want, but sincerity. It’s not so easy as it seems— that’s why I ask it of you.' (#94 Letters 89) Though clearly disappointed in their lack o f communication, Kommissarzhevskaia continued to follow the pattern offemme fragile and responded to their awkward meeting with compassion, devotion, and a willingness to bear the burden. (It is difficult to Judge exactly what had precipitated Chekhov’s “ambiguity” at their meeting: was it illness, or perhaps the fact that, having descended the stage, the muse was no longer interesting?) The writer continued to deflect the actress’s emotional revelations. “You’re angry, Vera Fedorovna? But what can be done?. ” Chekhov wrote in answer to the actress’s reproach, quoted above; again, he did not offer the emotional sustenance Kommissarzhevskaia’s insistence on ‘sincerity’ probably implied: 25 August 1900 ...I'm still writing tire play and will probably finish it in September, and then I'll send it to you...It’s cold in Yalta, the sea is angry. Be well and happy. May God protect you. Don't be angry with me! Your A. Chekhov (#3127 Chekhov PSSP IX 1 05) * B c e -T a K H a p a g a , hto B U a e Jia B a c , Ahtoh n a B Jio B H H ..." B c e -T a ic H " a r o B o p i o n o r o M y , u r o mhc a c a jib H H en o H a T H o , n o a e w y mbi c Bbmh tbk M a n o ro B o p H JiH . H H e rarcH M a c n a ji a B a c B C T pexH T b. Mhc K a i a n o c b , a r o K o r g a a B a c yB H acy, to a a g K H q a io B o n p o c a M H , h c a w a C K aacy B a M x o T b mto- H H Ô ygb. 3 x 0 H e B b iu u io . B b i ribU iH B c e a p c M a KaKOM -xo " c n e jie H a x b iH " . A M o a c e x G b ix b , npH U H H a a e a c a n a bo M H e. S n a e x e , a x o y x a c H O c x p a H H o , ho M H e B c e B p e M a S b u i o a c a n b B a c . 51 c o B ce M H e yMCK) hh p a a o G p a x b c a b a x o M acH O , hh xcm G o jie e o G -b acH H X b , ho x a t i b , a c a rib a. o rp y c T H . A e m e a x o - x o H e y n o B H M o e G b u io B ce B p eM a b B a c , a e M y a n e B e p to , h K a a a n o c b . box- box K a K o e -x o g B H x e H M e n a a o c f l e a a x b h a x o n e y jio B H M o e y f tf le x . A b p e a y j i b x a x e o a e n b mhopo y M e u a ic B aM x o p o t u e r o a y B c x B a , h B b i a a H e r o J ta iix e mhc orho— G y g b x e c o mhoh B c e r q a n p n B c e a o a M o a c H b ix y c a o B H a x H C K penH H g o g n a . flo H H M a e x e , H e o x K p o B e H H o c x H a x o a y , a H C K peH H ocxH . 3 x 0 H e x a K J i e n c o , khk K a a c e x c a , o x x o r o a h n p o m y y B a c a x o r o . R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 5 Kommissarzhevskaia was now planning her next year’s benefit, and in his letter Chekhov had suggested his as-yet unfinished play. The Three Sisters. That Kommissarzhevskaia expected to be able to use his play for her performance is made clear from telegrams and letters from September 1900; “My benefit is in January, so I don’t lose hope that I’ll be able to stage your new play. How I look forward to it— I’m not mad at you— that’s not it. When I think about your life...my heart clenches.Yet a short time later, Chekhov wrote her a different assessment o f the fate o f his new play: 13 September 1900 ...My play is already begun...but I don't know when I’ll finish. At any rate, the play isn’t for a benefit, and you would hardy want to stage it. Let’s talk about tins in October when I finish the play and send it to you to look over. As the pattern o f their letters has indicated, he showed his concern by helping her with more mundane matters: portrait photos taken in Yalta and a request for a portrait, “only one made in St. Petersburg. The local work I don’t like.” Towards the end o f the letter, he returned to the topic o f the play and attempted to calm her anxiety: ...So don’t worry about the play. I’ll send it as soon as I finish iL 1 won't wait a single day. Stay well and happy. May God and the heavenly angels save you. I didn't telegram you. forgive me. because I still don’t have tlie play. It isn’t ready. Your A. Chekhov (#31 -1 3 Chekhov PSSP: IX 115) However, the letter was a subtle ruse on Chekhov’s part. Once finished, the play was already destined for the Moscow Art Theater, which would decide its fate. If Kommissarzhevskaia realized that The Three Sisters would be at the disposi tion of Stanislavsky’s theater, she did not mention it, and in this regard the future theater entrepreneur showed naivete (or a great audacity) in her disregard for theater R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 6 practice and regulations. Kommissarzhevskaia's attempts to solicit from Chekhov an equal degree of candor notwithstanding, theater remained the central focus o f their correspondence. Despite the unsuccessful visit, Kommissarzhevskaia understood the special place she held for Chekhov, and she used this knowledge to encourage the writer to provide her with a new play to perform. Nonetheless, the actress never lost confidence that Chekhov’s admiration for her and that her enthusiasm for his work would again unite them in a new creation. In letters and telegrams to Chekhov written over the next few months, Konunissarzhevskaia never reproached the writer for his ambivalent mood, but responded with an almost naive trust. In fact, although she reminds him in her next letter that she has “not given up hope in regards to his new play,” the letter is more concerned with the writer’s health: “You disappointed me with news about the play, “ she wrote, “but even more with news about your illness” (#97 Letters 90-91 ). And when she has not received the play by November 1900, Kommissarzhevskaia wrote to remind him o f her January performance, and to again request the play. Tensions at the Alexandrine Theater were escalating for the actress at this time, and Kommissarzhevskaia wrote to Chekhov as a trusted cohort: Anton Pavloviclu please excuse tlie pencil. I don't have a pen at the moment. First of all. I want everything that I write you to remain absolutely between us. and I take your word tliat tliis will be so. My benefit is delayed until 31 January. If you have finished tlie play, give it to me to read, and if the role suits me. I will decline Romeo and Juliette [Karpov's suggestion-klni\ and I’ll take it instead. Of course, if for some reason this doesn't suit you. tell me right away, but you understand that right now it is imperative that no one knows about tliis. I'm in such a depressed spiritual state that I don't want to make you sad. especially since I’m awfully happy that you finally have gotten out of Yalta and probably raised your spirits. Only answer me immediately and directly w hat you think of my request. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 7 With sincere regards. F. Kommissarzhevskaia I haven’t written you lately because I’ve been sick for five days. If you don’t find it possible to give the play to the Imperial stage, then give it to me Just the same. I 'm taidng The Seagull and Uncle Vanva on tour this year. Only this is absolutely between us. Okay?" (# 102 Letters 92-93) Two factors were behind the letter’s conspiratorial tone: awareness o f Chekhov’s close ties with the Moscow Art Theater, and Kommissarzhevskaia’s willingness to break the rules and perform a Chekhov play even if the playwright did not intend to provide it to her place of service. By writing to Chekhov with the confidence o f an actress writing to her author, Kommissarzhevskaia was also indicating her aesthetic discord with the Alexandrine, where, in her own words, she performed ‘things that say little to my mind and nothing to my soul,’ and her psychological affinity with Chekhov’s literary heroines.^* She may also have been hoping to regain the inspirational role she had had for him when she performed as Nina Zarechnaia. Yet again, Chekhov was not forthcoming and remained ambiguous,’ as he had been at their meeting in the summer of 1900. If indeed the purpose o f the * Ahtoh flaBJioBHU, npocTHre, 'rro KapangauioM nnmy. Her ceA'iac nepa. flpexcae Bcero % xo'ty, HToribi T O , 'ITO H BaM Hamiuiy, ocrajiocb aScojuoTHo Mexcqy naMii, h 5epy c Bac cjiobo. H To 3T O raK Syaer. EenecpHC mom orjiosceH na 31 «HBapx. Ecjih Bbi koh'ihjih Bauiy nbecy - flaitre mhc ee npo'iecTb, h ccjih pojib nogxogHmaH flJiH mchji, a oTxaacycb o r "PoMeo h AsKyjibeTTbi" H B03bMy ee. KoHeuHo, ecnii 3To Bac noieMy-JiHGo H e ycrpaHBaer— cxajKHre npHM o, H O Bbi noHMaere, h to c e tr ta c H e n K m , iToGbi Kxo-HHriygb o6 3tom sHaJi. 5 1 b raxoM yrHereHHOM coctohhhh ayxa, hto He xo«iy na Bac uaroioiT yubiime, reM SoJiee h to h crpauiHo paqa. H T O B bi BbiripajiHCb naKOHeu H 3 Hjitbi h, HaBepnoe, Bocnpjuiii qyxoM. Tojibxo oTseTbTe M H e ceiiHac xce h npsTM o, kbk Bbi BarjiHHCTe na mok) npocbSy. Kpenxo > K M y Bauiy pyxy. B. KoMMHCcapxeBcxan H e HanHcaji BaM ceimac, noTOMy hto rwTb qneft Jie^xaJia 6ojibHan. Ecjih Bbi He Hafiqexe B 03M 03K H biM qaxb Hbccy Ha HMnepaxopcKyio— T O Bbi M H e ee qafixe Bce-xaKH. 5 T b noeaqxy b 3T O M roqy Beay h "Hafticy" h "IBiqio Banio. " TojibKo 3X0 Tojxe Mexqy hbmh aôcojiioTH o. Ha? R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 8 Kommissarzhevskaia letter, above, was to cajole Chekhov into providing her with a play based on their personal familiarity, his response served to keep her guessing as to his ‘sincere’ feelings. In his response, Chekhov supported her supposition that the play was not suited to the Alexandrine concept of performance (the memory o f the failure of The Seagull was still vivid) but was still worthy of her consideration. However, his offer was countered by a veiled warning that Kommissarzhevskaia would probably not be able to perform it after all (due to the Moscow Art Theater’s performance rights); The Tliree Sisters is ready, but its fate, at least in the near future, is enveloped for me b>' the darkness of the unknown. The play turned out slow and awkward— awkward because, for example, there are four heroines in it. and tlie mood, as they say. can't get any gloomier. Iff send it to the Alexandrine, your actors would hardly like it. But somehow I will still send it to you. Read it and decide if it's wortli taking on tour in tlie summer...So, now it's being read in the Art Tlieater (one copy, tliere aren’t any more). Then I will take it and again write a clean copy, and only then will we publish a few copies, of which I will hurry to send you one. After a brief digression, the topic returned to mutual bad heath, followed by a careful iteration of the process which the play would go through before Kommissarzhevskaia might be able to review it, and a brief commentary on the play : ...But how good it would be if 1 could get away to Petersburg if for only a one day. It's like a prison here...! came here completely well, and now I’m cougliing again and angry, and they say. I'm turning yellow. I'm very sad that you are ill and not in a good mood...Maybe you've already gotten better, which 1 wish you and will wish you from the purest of hearts. So. they will read my play in the Art Theater, then I will recopy it. tlien I print it and 1 send it to you. and 1 will try to do tlie latter by December. Tlie play is complex, like a novel, and the mood is. they say. deadly. And with a melodramatic flourish, he ends his letter: ...I soundly kiss your hands— both of them— and bow low to you. May tlie heavenly angels protect you. Sincerely. Your A. Chekhov (#3187 Chekhov PSSP:IX 139-140) R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 4 9 As in his previous letter, Chekhov repeated information that he wanted to make clear to Kommissarzhevskaia in short, simple statements similar to the way one might relay instructions to a child. The flowery closure and the delicacy with which he relayed his message in the body o f the letter also give the impression that Chekhov recognized that his addressee was a devoted yet sensitive individual. One suspects that Chekhov did not want to disappoint the actress but hoped through subtle innuendo she might realize the inevitability o f the situation herself. No documents record Kommissarzhevskaia's reaction to his letter, or the fact that the play was not performed at the Alexandrine Theater. Two years later, their correspondence continued to be friendly, and Kommissarzhevskaia's letters evidenced the same show of warmth and even a degree o f coyness. 'A re you really not coming?” Kommissarzhevskaia telegrammed Chekhov regarding her tour in Sevastopol during Spring 1902, “ The Enchanted Tale is tomorrow. I will be awfolly disappointed {IJzhasno ogorchitey (#137 Letter 114). She exchanged visits with Chekhov and Olga Knipper in Moscow during June 1902, while she was on tour and negotiating with the Moscow Art Theater. Chekhov's marriage did not alter her tone o f devotion, and references in her brief telegrams and notes to Chekhov written during this period indicate that Kommissarzhevskaia considered still Chekhov to be a close and personal friend.^’ Kommissarzhevskaia's professional relationship to Chekhov had the potential to change after 1902, when she became a theater entrepreneur. Yet if anything, the R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 0 relationship of their earliest acquaintance (the muse and pupil eager to transform the writer’s text into life) and her aflSnity with aspects of Nina Zarechnaia’s personality intensified during this period. Through her constant dealing with life’s ‘hard lessons,’ the actress came to recognize the meaning of her calling for her and boldly asserted her need for recognition as an artist. Even when afilicted by spiritual angst, as she described in letters to Chekhov and others, Kommissarzhevskaia’s attitude was always dynamic and driven by an unswerving commitment to art and belief in her path not unlike the profession o f a zealot: Evreinov (1922:107) described this drive as a “boundless, inflamed love for Art, for her Art” {bezbrezhnaia, ognennaia litibov ' k Iskiisstvu, ksvoem tt Ishisstvu). She believed in the higher truth of her commitment, and as a corollary she expected that others would naturally want to help her reach that aim. Driven by a need to be independent of directorial and official censure, by September 1902 Kommissarzhevskaia had decided not to Join the Moscow Art Theater and to establish her own theater. For the remainder of the year and into late Spring of 1903 the actress toured the southern provinces and the Russian Far East to raise funding for her new enterprise. While on tour, the actress wrote to Chekhov. The primary message of her letters followed after a brief introduction: [January 1903] Anton Pavlovicli. hello. Of course, you've forgotten that I exist, but I do. and how. I saw your wife"” recently and I was glad to find her so pleasing... I'm not writing to find out about you (I always know almost all that 1 want to about you), but on business. You’ve probably heard about my venture to open a St. Petersburg theater....I’m imdertaking this stupidit} . as my friends call it. but I can’t and don’t want to think how to call it. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 251 In the letter, her self-efikcing modesty only lightly concealed the passionate determina tion and commitment she expressed concerning her new endeavor. As Kommissarzhevskaia-Nina Zarechnaia had once urged her creator' (‘think about your calling), Kommissarzhevskaia again expressed a similar avowal o f determination and urgency: ...My soul right now is flooded with such energ) and desire to wholeheartedly give it something that I love, that I set ofll I setoff alone. I set off with faith, with the kind of faitli tliat. if it shatters, it will kill everything in me tliat holds the meaning of life...This introduction, which isn't interesting for you. has just sprung forth by itself, so let it be. Her following request likewise is a good example o f the maximalist position the actress often evinced on issues that were o f prime importance to her. However, in the given situation we might also consider this an example o f the muse turning to her creator for help, now attempting to use their relationship to her advantage: ...And the business is that you must help me. Anton Pavlovich. Precisely you and must. Promise to give my St. Petersburg theater yoiu" new play. After all. you understand how I need this and what you would be doing for me by this. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 2 I k n o w you believe in my artistic sense, so also believe that 1 love Chekhov too much to stage your piece if rehearsal performances do not satisfy me. Answer me right now. okay?' (#172 Letters 129) Kommissarzhevskaia’s request for The Cherry Orchard put Chekhov in a quandary, yet his response illustrates how seriously he accepted his mentoring role in the relationship. He could not give her the play as she requested, but neither could he turn her down directly. As had been the case with The Three Sisters, his new play was also destined for the Moscow Art Theater. With this in mind, Chekhov wrote to Knipper for advice; 26 January 1903 1 received a letter from Kommissarzhevskaia. She requests a new play for her private tlieater in St. Petersburg. She’ll be the head of the theater. She's an eccentric. One month will be enough for her. After a montli she’ll lose all interest in her tlieater. but one can’t write her about tliis since she’s irrevocably engrossed in her undertaking. But what should I write her about the play? Refuse? Go talk with Nemirovich and write me if I could promise her The Cherry Orchard, that is. is your tlieater going to put on this plav in Petersburg. If not. I’ll promise it to her. (#3980 Chekhov PSSErXI 132) In his letter to Knipper, we find references to Komtnissarzhevskaia as an eccentric’ (chttdachka) and the off-hand comment that ‘one month will be enough for her. After a * Ahtoh fTaBJiOBmi. agpancTByirre. Bbt. KOHeuHo, laribuiH. h to a ecTb Ha cbctc, a H cyutecTByto. qa eme saK. BHqejia na qmix Baitiy «eny h nopaqoBanacb. hto oHa tu k noHpaBHJiacb . flHiny He qjur Toro. HToSbt noJiyHHTb o Bac CBeqeHHn (a o Bac Bcerqa anaio hohth Bce. hto xony). a no qeny. Bbt. BepoHTHO. cjibiuiajiH o Moett aaree oTKpbiTb b Flerepô TeaTp. 3 t o To*e yjKe kohhcho. 9 1 qejiaK) 3TV rjiynocTb, KaK naabiBaioT 3To moh qpyrba. A a He Mory, He xony qywaTb. KaK 3To HasbiBaeTca. B Moeft qyine ceHHac TaKow npHJiHB 3HeprHH H acaacqbt qaTb eft HTo-HHriyqb KHityiee no nioôHMOMy, h to a Hqy, Hqy oqHa, Hqy c Bepoft, c roft Bepoft. KOTopaa ecJiH pasoribeTca, yribCT bo MHe Bce, c hcm roJibKo n hmcct qjia Meaa CMbicji 3KH3HH...Bce 3to npequcjioBHe neHHTepecHoe qjia Bac BbumJiocb caMo. anaHHT. nycTb ocTanerca. A qejio aaicJiioHaeTca b tom. hto Bbi M H e qoJij^bi noMOHb. A htoh flaBJioBHH. PlMeHHo Bbi h H M C H H o qojtacHbi. OSeiqaHTe mhc qaTb Bauiy Hosyio nbecy b Moft rearp b fleTepdypr. Beqb Bbi 5K e noHHMaeTe, K aK 3to mhc nytKHo h »ito Bbi qjia Mena 3Thm cqejiaeTe. B Moe xyqoscecTBeHHoe nyrbe Bbi, a anaio, Bepirre h eme aepbre to , h to a cjihuikom jiio6jiio HexoBa, HToribi nocrraBHTb Bainy aeiqb b tom cmynae, ecjm HcnojineiiHe ee ne yqoBJieraopHT Mena na penenatHax. OTBeTbTe M He ceftnac. Ha? R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 3 month she’ll lose all interest in her theater/ Remarks such as these are similar to Knipper’s estimation o f Kommissarzhevskaia at the time, and certainly had Kommissar zhevskaia joined the Moscow Art Theater, there would have been competition between the two actresses. Thus it is difficult to accept Chekhov’s comments at face value, especially as fiirther information in the letter leads the reader to a different conclusion in determining the dramatist’s attitude to Kommissarzhevskaia. Although the overall message is somewhat depreciatory, his estimation o f Kommissarzhevskaia as irrevoca bly engrossed in her undertaking’ formed the turning point of his letter, and this evalua tion lead him to decide against refusing her request outright and to enlist Knipper’s aid in arranging for Kommissarzhevskaia to have the play. Although Chekhov appeared to value Kommissarzhevskaia’s entrepreneurial acumen as little as her literary judgement, he did trust her artistic instincts. “You write. ‘I set off with faith that, if it shatters, it will kill in me...etc.’ You’re right.” Chekhov responded to Kommissarzhevskaia in writing, “only for the sake o f the Creator, do not make this dependent on a new theater. After all, you are an artiste, and this is the same as a good sailor: no matter what ship he is on board...he remains a good sailor." In his letter, Chekhov again implied that The Cherry Orchard was not appropriate for Kommissarzhevskaia on both an artistic (the lead is an “old woman”) and bureaucratic level (the contingency that he could offer the play only if the Moscow Art Theater decided not to perform in St. Petersburg the following year). Instead, he offered her the possibility to again co-author a new creation: “Maybe I should write a play fo r yoiO. Not R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 4 for this theater or the other, but for you. This has long been a dream o f mine.”^‘ Chekhov’s offer may have only been to ameliorate her inevitable disappointment at yet again not being able to premiere a new Chekhov play in St. Petersburg; by the time of his death the following year, Chekhov had not written the promised play. Yet the offer itself and the intensity with which he pursued the possibility of the Dramatic Theater staging The Cherry Orchard, especially when his plays were restricted to Art Theater premiere, suggests the writer’s recognition o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s unique ability to perform his heroines.^" In fact, in a subsequent letter to Knipper, Chekhov contem plated the possibility o f Kommissarzhevskaia performing the role of Nina Zarechnaia in a Moscow Art Theater production of The Seagull.^^ Kommissarzhevskaia was also aware of Chekhov’s efforts on her behalf, and while on tour in the fall o f 1903 she encouraged Nikolai Effos, who was helping with the organization of her new theater, to “tell Chekhov about my dreams, about the theater, and how I have faith that if I do have a theater, he won’t give his plays to anyone else in St. Petersburg.. They say...Stanislavsky won’t be here [St. Pelersbtirg-klm], so I hope for Cherry Orchard.”^ Kommissarzhevskaia did not let go of her aspiration to stage the play and involve Chekhov in her new theater. In what would be her final effort to reunite her create energies with Chekhov’s, in a letter from late December 1903, Kommissarzhev skaia formally asked the playwright to join with her new enterprise: Anton Pavlovich, my dear. I am opening a theater in Petersburg. I want its opening to be connected with your name, and for tliis reason 1 beg you. give me your Cherry Orchard. I will open with it. I know tliat you would like to give it to the Alexandrine so that Sa\ina can perfonn. Judging by the little information that 1 have about your play, tlie role suits her and she would perform it well. But you and you R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 5 alone cannot not help me in this maddeningly difScult matter. I hardly need to tell you the number of enemies that I have, but there are also people who. I believe, will help me realize what the best in me wants to achieve I want and I must have you as the first WelL I won’t say anything more. You must feel how anxious I am and how I need your word and consent " (#20 L Letters 146) The letter was the culmination to her attempt to involve Chekhov in her theater, and its style fluctuates between a terse business voice (T am opening a theater and I want its opening connected with your name^) and personal entreaty (‘you and you alone’). In her attempt to win over Chekhov, Kommissarzhevskaia resorted to coercion by her knowledge of his good intentions towards her: he is her confidant ( I hardly need to tell you the enemies that I have’) and therefore among those ‘who will help me realize what the best in me wants to achieve.’ Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting would seem to have been more influential in directing reception than her letters, since Chekhov’s response to the above request was negative. Yet she was correct in her assessment o f Chekhov’s regard for her. Rather than a brisk rejection, Chekhov set the matter straight in a delicate manner. Citing the implacability o f the Moscow Art Theater directorate, Chekhov attempted to ameliorate his rejection of Kommissarzhevskaia’s plea by again stating the play’s unsuitable nature for her: “I am convinced that my Cherry Orchard is ** Ahtoh flaBJioBHM, floporoH, si oTKpbrBaio re a rp b flerepSypre. 5 1 xoHy.'iroSbi orKpbiriie ero fibiJio CBSiaano c BamuM iiMeHeM h noroMy npomy Bac, ^afire mhc Bam "BHmHesbiH cag " . si hm OTKpofo. 513Haio, H T O BaM xouercsi o rqarb ero b AjieKcanap, *iro6bi mpaJia CaBHHa. Cyqsi no reM HeM HorHM CBegeH H SiM , Kaxne si HMeio o Bamefi aroH nbece, h pojib onenb eft nogxoflHr. si cbirpaer ona ee xopomo, ho Bbi, HMenHC Bbi He CMojKere jkc He noMOHb MHe b aroM fie syMHo rpyflHOM aejie. Mne jih Hago BaM roBopwrb, cxojibxo y M eH si BparoB, ho ecrb raioKe JnogM, Koropbie. S I Bepio, noMoryr M He ocymecTBHTb ro , nro xo'ier cgejiarb Jiynmee bo MHe. 5 1 xouy. s i goJDKHa, HTofibi Bbi fibiJiH nepBbift. Hy, si He 6ygy SoJibme amiero roBopnrb. Bbi goaxHbi noHyBCTBOBarb, xax st BOJinyiocb h xax mhc nyxcHo Bame cjiobo h corjiacHe. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 6 not for you. The central role in the play is an old woman, everything is in the past, nothing’s in the present, and the other roles are petty and crude— not interesting for you” (#4279 Chekhov PSSP XII 8-9). No letters exist to indicate whether the actress might have found Chekhov lacking in the sincerity’ she had once requested from him. She again planned to see Chekhov in January 1904,^^ but if the visit took place, it did not result in Chekhov’s name ever being directly associated with Konunissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater. Had Chekhov survived to write his dream play’ for Kommissarzhevskaia, the heroine would probably have been a new Nina Zarechnaia, all in the present,’ and the actress might have finally found her sought-after repertory that would ‘say something to the mind and soul.’ Certainly performing another Chekhov play would have helped Kommissarzhevskaia in her professional life as would having ‘her own’ dramatist. Yet in her private life she had already been creating Chekhov’s fem m e fra g ile from the earliest days of her acquaintance with it, when her soul had become one’ with the role. This transference o f art into life was manifested in her personal philosophy: when she remarked in a 1906 interview that “Human thought and soul, and beyond them, the New Art, strive in art to find the key to understanding the eternal, to the riddle of profound world secrets and to revealing the spiritual world, the collectivized human R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 7 spirit,’ ^ (in Karpov 1911:94), she was echoing Nina Zarechnaia's performance as the suffering, fervently believing World Soul.* In closing, I would like to briefly mention the significance of the aviary imagery associated with Kommissarzhevskaia. The likening o f Kommissarzhevskaia to a wandering bird developed from the actress’s creation o f Chekhov’s Nina Zarechniaia, the transitory nature o f an actor’s life in general, and her popularity as an interpreter of fem m e fragile roles—the harmony of suffering and a chaste pure sou!’— which linked the actress and playwright in the public imagination. Later that century, one memorist addressed the “unquestionable parallel” among the actress, the “wonderful sadness” of Chekhov, and the “sadly tender, pensive landscapes” o f Chekhov’s close friend. Ilia Levitan.^*^ In Auslender’s 1910 eulogy for Kommissarzhevskaia, the desultory seagull image denoted the period itself: “Namely this inexhaustible searching made Kommissarzhevskaia the closest and most familiar o f all contemporary stage performers, because weren’t we all . searching during those troubled years?” Her identification with heroines representing the “suffering Russian soul” led Vasilii Rozanov to project Kommissarzhevskaia as an alated female Don Quixote, a fem me fragile who suffers because o f her ideals and who in turn is commemorated for her suffering: “the dreams o f her soul were much higher than reality; and her sight was further than the strength o f her wings. She was all agitation and impulse, but not * H e jio B C M e c K a J i M b io ib , H eJioB e*iecK aji a y m a , a a a h h m h h o b o c H cxyccT B o crp e w jiT C ji r e n e p b b Hciq^ccTBe HaifTH x m o i K n o a n a m a o B enH oro, k p a a r a a x e rJiy6oKHX M H poB bix T aiiH h k p a c x p b iT ia o a y x o B H o r o M H p a , o 6 o 6 m e H H o f t a y m n neJioB e'iecK O M . R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 8 success...And they loved her for this disquiet, impulse, and suffering; they loved her helplessness.^^ Indeed, as Viacheslav Ivanov's verse, “In memory o f V.F. Kommissarzhevskaia," made clear, through sacrifice to a higher calling the wandering bird had also become the harbinger o f transformation: She began to awaken humankind with an early call &om tlie sky “Will we dead soon arise for tlie young century?’ * (Ivanov 1995:220) ^ Crajia b u e r i e k jih k o m p an H H M Byairn» nenoBeKa: "CKopo J ib , M e p T b iB e , Mb! B c ra H e M XIjW KDHOrO BCKa? As the following chapter will illustrate, in the new typology o f Kommissarzhevskaia the nascent New Russian Woman would metamorphose from wandering seagull into the stormy petrel of defiance and revolution. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 5 9 N o t es t o C h a p t e r V 1. “Part of what was dangerous about the fin-de-siècle New Woman...was that she wouldn’t stay put. She invaded the bourgeois classes...and not as a mere object of pleasure but as a dominating and usurping force, blurring the formerly clear distinctions between herself and the passive and reinforcing “feminine ideal” (Snodgrass 1992: 193). 2. Yurii Beliaev, in a review in Hoeoe BpeMsi (29 November 1906) (in Rudnitskii 1978). In European and American theater at the turn o f the century, the various theatrical manifestations o f the New Woman were united by their representation of social and even moral freedom. See Gardner, Rutherford (1992) for a study o f non-Russian actress-social activists during this period. 3. Rubenshtein and Kommissarzhevskaia were historically cormected by more than their possible Meipomenic attributes. Prior to a career with the Ballet Russe, Rubenshtein hoped to perform as Salome in Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater’s 1908 production and had written Kommissarzhevskaia on this subject. The role was subsequently prepared by the theater’s second lead, Natalia Volokhova. Rubenshtejn enlisted the aid of Mikhail Fokin to develop the Dance o f the Seven Veils, which she first performed in St. Petersburg in December 1908. She performed the role again in a stage production, complete with sets by Benois, in Paris in June 1912. For a description of the ill-fated Dramatic Theater performance and Rubenshtein’s productions of Salome, see (Dobrotvorskaia 1993). 4. Stanislavsky (1960:7, 445) (Quoted in Dobrotvorskaia 1993:138). 5. Golub uses a 1906 caricature o f Kommissarzhevskaia as illustration of the “ascetic erotic” impulse. In the caricature, Kommissarzhevskaia’s distorted, “antierotic body” symbolizes her “compliance to male will” (that is, of her director, Meierkhol’d) (caricature by N. KaUbanovskii. “F otkrytie teatrag-zhi Komissarzhevskoi " Oskolki {Splinters) no. 45 (1906) 111). Although other caricatures from the period depict the actress with a similarly distorted body to indicate her subjugation by Meierkhol’d’s non naturalist stage innovations, the original caption to Golub’s example indicates that the caricature was directed at the incomprehensibility of Symbolist production and not necessarily Meierkhol’d’s dominion over the actress. For a study of caricatures relating to Meierkhol’d and Kommissarzhevskaia, see Binevich (1978). Caricaturists were quick to reverse the balance o f power when Kommissarzhevskaia summarily fired Meierkhol’d halfway through the season (e.g., cartoon by Moor, I elevated you, I will dethrown you” Shut (The Jester), no. 50 (1907) 4 in Binevich (1978:233) See also Binevich ( 1990) for additional caricatures. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 0 6. Schuler (1996:1-18, passim) shares Golub’s assessment o f the manipulatory potential of the female muse in her discussion of how female performers displaced notions of “conventional femininity.” 7. The title A Child Wife semantically discredited Nora’s actions as childish willfulness and petulance, and was revised to the more familiar translation “A Doll’s House” in 1899. In the U.S., the “cult of True Womanhood” had been well-disseminated in literature and on stage during the third quarter o f the 19th-century. Ibsen’s A Doll’s House challenged the model of domesticity and passivity. 8. A corollary was the “cult o f the child, ” which peaked in the late 1880s (see Ferris 1992). Linguistic variants describing unmarried adult women without children confine women to a child-like status (e.g., “old maid,” “reste fille,” ^'^staraia devcT). perhaps Kommissarzhevskaia’s childless (and husband-less) state likewise confined her in the public imagination to the realm of the “fragile child,” regardless of her “real life” responsibilities as family breadwirmer and theater entrepreneur. 9. Unlike Larisa fDowervless Bridel or Natal’ia Petrovna (Enchanted Talel. one interpretation o f the The Seagull suggests that Nina Zarechniaia’s moral strength enables her to rise above travail. Brushtein (1956) and others have observed that the role of Nina Zarechnaia broke with the tradition o f “Cinderella roles” and drawing room dramas that had been part of Kommissarzhevskaia’s repertory at the Alexandrine. 10. “flbeca lUJienHyjiacb h npoBajiHJiacb c xpecKOM. B xeaxpe ribiJio xjracKoe HanpscKOHHe HejtoyMeHHJi h noaopa. AKxepti HrpajiH ntycHO, rjiyno. Oxctofla Mopajib: He c.aeayex nHcaxb ribec... " “M.P. Chekhovu” (18 October 1896) #1767 (Chekhov PSSP:VI 197). Chekhov’s oft-quoted letter to Suvorin from the previous year regarding The Seagull was a self-fulfilling prophesy: " Hanaa e e f o r t e n k o h h h j i p i a n i s s i m o - B o n p e x H b c c m n p a B n n a M a p a M a T H u e c K o r o H C K V c c T B a ...M 6 o J i e e H e a o B o jie H , ‘i c m a o B O Jic H , H 'i H T a a C B O io H O B o p o * a e H H y i o n b e c y , e m e p a a y S e x c f la K s c b , h t o a c o B c e w n e apawaTypr." (“A.S. Suvorinu” (21 November 1895) #1616 (Chekhov PSSP VI 100). 11. Eye-witness Alexander Suvorin’s list of the play’s dramatic weaknesses indicates by inversion what contemporary audiences expected to find in a dramatic production. For Suvorin, the play had “little action, few developed scenes that were interesting for their dramatic quality, and too much given to the trifles o f life and unimportant, uninteresting characters” (note to #1767 Chekhov PSSP:VT 521). 12. Meierkhol’d described The Cherrv Orchard as “abstract, like a Chaikovsky symphony.” “V.E. Meierkhol’d - A.P. Chekhovu” (8 May 1904) #44 (Meierkhol’d 1976:45). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 261 1 3 . ‘T o j i e ô H e 3 H a ira , m p a J i H flep esH K H O , H e p e n iH T e jis H O , B c e n a riH a y x o M ... h b T e a r p e 6tijro x a p K o , K aK b any. K aaa^ cb , n p o T H B m>ecbi ô b iJiH ace c t h x h h . " "V.V. Bilibinu" (I November 1896) #1784 f Chekhov PSSP: V I207). Similar sentiments c a n b e found in other letters written by Chekhov during the months following the premiere. 14. See Alexandrine actor lurii lur’ev’s production description in lur’ev (1945:300- 312). Director Karpov’s analysis can be found in Karpov (1911:50-84). 15. Chekhov (who was not yet familiar with Kommissarzhevskaia or her acting style) originally requested that Savina perform Nina Zarechnaia, but Karpov maintained that Kommissarzhevskaia would better suit the role. In terms o f casting, Karpov was apparently not worried by the short production time because o f the professional experience of the performers (e.g., Aleksandr Davydov-Sorin; Nikolai Sazonov- Trigorin, Aleksandra Chitau-Masha, Roman Appolonskii-Treplev, et al ). Savina’s actions further disrupted cast enthusiasm for the play when she rejected the role of Nina for that of Masha, which had already been given to Chitau. Then, when informed that Savina would premiere Masha on opening night, Chitau refused to perform. Savina subsequently rejected the role entirely, and the insulted Chitau was convinced to rejoin the production. Kommissarzhevskaia seems to have been able to subdue her actor’s pride, and upon reviewing Savina’s cast-off role, she avidly accepted. 16. Karpov (1911:66) recounted that, at the rehearsal, Chekhov upbraided the actors for their overacting but relinquished responsibility for knowing how to act to the actors themselves. 17. An archival document compiled around 1930 lists Larisa as Komissarzhevskaia’s most often performed Alexandrine role (46 times);.she performed as Natal’ia Petrovna 31 times. See St. Petersburg GPB f. 106. BpHHHCKHM, A.M. e.fl.75. MaTepnajibi k HCTOpHH CUeHHHeCKOH fle B X e JIb HOCTH B.K. K O M M H C C apjK eB C K O il (ca. 1930). 18. This was probably the case for writer/playwright Sofia Abramovna Kochanovskaia, who took the pen name “Zarechnaia.” 19. As Chekhov wrote to A. Koni: “Ha cneKxaKne >Ke n ona [Kommissarzhevskaia] noaaajiacb orimeMy HacxpoeHHio, BpajKfleôHOMy m o o h " H a Ô K e ," h KaK riyAxo oporiejia, cnajia c rojioca.” “A.F. Koni” (11 November 1896) #1806 (Chekhov PSSP:VI 222). 20. Referring to the final dress rehearsal, Potapenko recalled: "KorAa 5K e Bbiiuiia KcMHccapjReBCKan, cuena K aK 6yAxo oaapHJiacb ctuiHHeM. 3xo fibiJia noHcxHue B A O X H O B eH H aH Hrpa" (note to #1764 in Chekhov PSSP:VI 519). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 2 21. She wrote to K a r p o v while on tour in the summer o f 1900: “Bfci n p cK p acH O 3 H acT e, HTo e c jiH K aK aft-H H Ô yai, n b e c a b n o e s m c e riJ io x o h a c t , h s i H rp a io x o p o in o aa rJia B H y to p o j i t , t o n y ô JiH K a 3 t o n p o m a c T , h o n ex o B C K H e m >ecbi p a a H oftnyT cKBepHO, o H a H e n p o c T H T 3TOFO HMeHHO MHe, n .H . 51 H e e T o r g a n e b CHJiax y jto B Jiex B o p H T b , ô y n y H H B c e ite Jio b saBHCH M Ocrn o r ensem ble. (#11 Mordison et ai. 1956:506-607) 22. For example, Valentina Verigina recalled that Kommissarzhevskaia explained to the younger actress that pauses could hold as much meaning as the words themselves and showed her how to balance both elements in the spoken line. See Verigina (in Letters:265). Verigina often served as Kommissarzhevskaia's understudy. 23. Nemirovich-Danchenko, who was supportive of Kommissarzhevskaia’s possible move to the Moscow Art Theater, shared Chekhov’s prognosis. See Nemirovich- Danchenko (1979:1,262). By mid-July, Kommissarzhevskaia was having her doubts, and confided in a letter to Khodotov that she " regretted having initiated conversation with Stanislavsky [regctrdingjoining his theater-klmY (“N.N. Khodotovu," (7 July 1902) Letters 117). 24. Kommissarzhevskaia’s correspondent and first biographer, Nikolai Turkin was perhaps the first to establish her as the “poor, poor seagull o f the Russian stage” {bednaia, bednaia chaika ntsskoi stseny) (in Karpov 19II :95). 25. Chekhov modeled the romance between Nina Zarechnaia and Trigorin on a tragic love affair between his friends Lidia (Lika) Mizinova and Ignatii Potapenko. 26. In Schepkina-Kupemik’s memorial verse, Kommissarzhevskaia was the “dead seagull, the broken lily” (chaika ubita, slomana liliia) (GTM 116.36, “BenoK na rpo6 HesaÔBeHHOH Bepbi (DeqopoBHbi KoMMHCcapxceBCKoft. " Co6paHHbifl A.A. JliOHeflapcKoft). The poem can also be found in Karpov 1911:139. (Ironically, Lidiia lavorskaia, who had been Kommissarzhevskaia’s nemesis and Chekhov’s companion at one time, read the poem at the grave side service for Kommissarzhevskaia). Another memorial poem to the actress was similarly entitled “The Dead Seagull” (Ubitaia chaika) (Karpov 1911 ;251 ). A memorial marker was planned for Kommissarzhevskaia with the carved image o f a seagull, but the design was rejected by church censorship due to its visual similarity to the dove of the Holy Spirit. 27. Karpov (1911:68-70) recalled Chekhov’s comments that " O na th k n rp aer Hany, cjioBHO SbiJia B Moeô ayuie, noflcjiyuiajia moh HHTonauHH "H h k to Tax Bepno, Tax npaB^HBO h Tax rjiyrioxo ne noHHMaji M eH 5t, xax Bepa (^eqopBona.”. References to the actress in Chekhov’s letters written around the time o f the original performances lend credence to Karpov’s recollection. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 3 28. In the June 1902 letter to his wife. Mania Lilina, Stanislavsky was referring to Kommissarzhevskaia as Rosie in Fight of the Butterflies. Quoted in Chronicle 186-187. 29. P. Brisson. Tchekov et sa vie (Paris. 1954); in Smith (1973:123). 30. “Tbok) Hapacraiom yic aHTHnaTmo k IleTepriypry a noHHMaio, ho Bce ace b H 6M MHoro xoponrero; xoth 6bi, na npHMep, HeBctcnâ b cojiHeHHbiH fleni» hjih KoMMHccapaceBCKaa, KOTopyio a cHHTaFO BejiHKOJienHOH aKTpHcoft.” ~V1.1. Nemirovichu-Danchenko” (20 November 1896) #1819 (Chekhov PSSP V T 231). 3 1 . See “S. S. Tatishchevu” (end December 1895) #27 Letters 52-53. To one o f her suitors, Kommissarzhevskaia wrote that family affairs “could never deflect me from pursuing my life’s fundamental and urgent goal— serving art” (“HHKorqa He MorJia 6bi 3acraBHTi> Mena H3M6HHTI, HarrpaBJieHHe nyrn no KOTOpowy a nay, npecjieaya nepsyio, rjiaBHyro, h HacroarejiBHyK) itejib moch »ch3HH - cjiyaceHHe H C K yCC TBy "). 32. On at least one occasion, Kommissarzhevskaia inscribed the exact line from the play, ’’When 1 think about my vocation, 1 do not fear life” {Kogda ia dim aht o svoem prizvanii, to ne boius' zhizni) on a souvenir photo. See Brushtein (1956; 105). 33. In his response, Chekhov reassured her that if possible he would visit (“the very first day after 1 arrive in Petersburg. If you’re not in. I’ll come another time). Yet his enthusiastic response (“1 will take advantage o f your invitation without fail”) was tem pered by an admission that his letter might not make it to its destination after all (“I’m not sure this will get to you, since 1 couldn’t figure out a single word of the address you had written me”) (#1924 Chekhov PSSP:VI-303L 34. "A.P. Chekhovu" (mid May 1897) #41 Letters 59. In the play, Nina Zarechnaia gives Trigorin a medallion inscribed with a line fi'om one o f his stories. An example of art imitating life, the medallion had been inscribed and given to Chekhov in 1895 by aspiring writer Lidiia Avilova. Avilova’s disputed memoirs chronicle her love affair with the writer. Kommissarzhevskaia returned the medallion in late April 1898. See also “A.P. Chekhovu #47 Letters 63. 35. Her portrayal of Ippolit Shpazhinsky’s “fallen woman,” Povetova, ( Two Fates) struck one reviewer as a “repetition of Rosie, Larisa: the same, tone, the same details, the same gestures,” in Chronicle 102. During the 1898-99 theater season Kommissarzhevskaia performed in 17 plays. During the time o f this letter exchange with Chekhov, she was performing the roles mentioned in the citation, among others. 36. While on tour during April 1900, Kommissarzhevskaia wrote to Chekhov regarding the planned production o f Uncle Vanya at the Alexandrine Theater and perhaps the purest Chekhov fem m e fra g ile role, Sonia: “In Petersburg they say that you won’t give R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 4 Uncle Vanya to the Alexandrine Theater. I’m afraid to believe this— I want so much to perform Sonya. You must write me immediately if this is true, and if so, why” (“A.P. Chekhovu” (9 April 1900) #74 Letters 74). 37. “A.P. Chekhovu” (September 1900) #96 Letters 90. See also “A.P. Chekhovu” (3 September 1900) #95 Letters 90. 38. Part o f the problem may not have been aesthetic in nature, as she was also offered Shakespearean roles. Kommissarzhevskaia recognized her limitations as a dramatic actress: “I worked a bit on Juliette and Ophelia and never have I felt so keenly my own inadequacy” (“E.P. Karpovu” (around 4 August 1900) #92 Letters 87-89:89). 39. See “A.P. Chekhovu” (5 June 1902) #143 Letters 116, and ' A.P Chekhovu” (12 September 1902) #155 Letters 122. Chekhov is one o f a few acquaintances Kommis sarzhevskaia refers to in her letters as “darling” ). Both notes refer to proposed meetings (while on tour in Moscow and Kharkov, respectively). Chekhov responded in a letter from mid-September, suggesting a meeting in Sevastopol on his way to Moscow (#3832 Chekhov PSSP:XI,38). 40. Stanislavsky brought Kommissarzhevskaia to BCnipper’s dressing room during a Moscow Art Theater performance of Gorkii’s The Lower Depths. In a letter to her husband, Knipper’s description o f Kommissarzhevskaia was not complimentary: “She was in a bright red dress. She chattered about something inconsequential” (note to #3981 Chekhov PSSP:XI,445-446). 41. “Bbi nH iucT e: " n n y c Toft B epofi, KOTopaji, ecJiH p a a o ô b e T c a , ySbCT b o m h o .." H T .g . CoB epuieH H O cnpaBCflJiHBG, Bbr np aB b i, TOJibKo, p a ^ H cosA aTejiH , He craB bT e a r o r o b aaBHCHMOcTb o t HOBoro T e a x p a . B b i BCflb apxHCTKa, a a x o x o 3Ke caM oe, hxo xopoiU H H MopHK: Ha KaKOM 6bi n a p o x o q e ...o c x a ex c H xopoiuH M MopjiKOM (#3981 Chekhov PSSP:XI, 134). 42. In a letter to Knipper from the following month (February 1903) Chekhov added,” I forgot to write you that I want to give the play to Kommissarzhevskaia earlier than to the Moscow Art Theater. She will need the play in fell or winter, and I need to know if I can promise her the play at all for the next season, at least after Christmas’’(#3993 Chekhov PSSP:XI, 144-145). Knipper advised Chekhov not to readily provide Kommissarzhevskaia with the play, since he was “tied” to the Moscow Art Theater (Chekhov PSSP:XI,444). One suspects that, had Knipper been better-disposed towards Kommissarzhevskaia, the latter might have succeeding in performing a new Chekhov piece. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 5 43. " 0. Knipper-Chekhovoi” (17February 1903) #4005 ChekhovPSSP:XI,I55. Chekhov wrote to Knipper that inviting Kommissarzhevskaia to perform in The Seagull “wouldn’t be at ail bad” (bylo by sovsem ne dum o). 44. “N.E. Efrosu” (20 October 1903) #194 Letters 143. Two months later, while on tour, Kommissarzhevskaia telegraphed and subsequently wrote Chekhov again concerning The Cherry Orchard. (See #200 Letters 146: “I urge you not to give The Cherry Orchard to Petersburg until you receive my letter'’ (U beditel'noproshn ne otdavat ' '‘ Sad’" Peterbnrgn do moego p is ’ ma), and #20 1 Letters 146). 45. See “A.P Chekhovu” (around 17-21 January 1904) #205 Letters 147. 46. “...Hama cepflita npHJienjurjracb k npeKpacHOH nenajiH Rexona, k rpycTHo- jiacKOBOM y, meMjniteMy naâaaxy JleBHTaHa. Ecn> rpyflHo onpejtenHMbiH T O H K biM H cjioeaMH, H O HecoMHeHHbiu napajiJiejiH3M Mexcgy KoMMHccapaceBCKOH h s t h m MacrepaMH nepa h k h c t h . ” Izmailov, in Al’bom (1915:31). rAl’bom 1915 is an oversize publication commemorating the fifth anniversary of the actress’s death). 47. “MeMTbi ayiim ee fibuiH ropaaflo Bbime fleftcTBHTejibHCCTH; apemie XBaxajio flajibme, h om C H Jia KpbiJibeB. Ona bch SbiJia TpeneTaraie, nopbiB, h o hc ycnex... Tax H nojiK D Ô H JiH a h c h see s t o t xpenex, nopbis h cxpa^anHe; nomofimiH 6 e 3 C H JiH e ." Rozanov (1914:325). 48. Ivanov used the image o f a swallow, not a seagull, the symbolic implication is similar. Kommissarzhevskaia did not perform in the Ibsen piece paraphrased in Ivanov’s poem. A signed, autograph copy of Ivanov’s verse is located in Kommissarzhevskaia’s Bakhrushin State Theater Museum archive (GTM 116.66). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 6 VI. The Jeanne d’Arc Complex: Actress as Militant Martyr What was the secret of Kommissaizhevskaia’s fascination? Why was she a leader, a Jeanne d'Arc? -Osip Mandelshtam. The Moise o f Time C1929) She was too passionate. Too avidly and impatiently did she want what only can be dreamt: too inflamed was her soul. the soul not of a serene reformer but a fanatical religious ascetic who craves miracle and is ready to die or to ctuse the former object of her supplication. -Sergei Auslender. Kommissarzhevskaia”^ Joan: ‘ ‘I marched with a baimer in one hand. a sword in the other." -A C Annenkova-Bemar. A D auehter o f the People. A ct IV. The passive Symbolist eidolon and the genteel fem m e fra g ile figure, discussed elsewhere in this dissertation as models for self-representation in Kommissarzhevskaia’s writings, represented cultural types engendered by the imagination of the Symbolist poets and urban elite. They “represent femininity” (Corbett 1992) in the sense that these images ascribed to and perpetuated societal codes for female behavior. Postlewait (1989) specifically relates this implied social directive to tum-of-the-century actresses’ self-writing. Analogous to Todd’s estimation of the epistolary text’s illusory quality, Postlewait describes the discourse o f (Victorian) actresses’ autobiographies as a “rhetoric o f denial” by means o f which allusions to suspect behavior are avoided in order to “put forward an acceptable version of the actress as woman. ” As Postlewait explains, even in the writings o f these professionals; self-interest in the form of ambition is seldom acknowledged. When admitted, it is balanced...!^ an example of self-sacrifice, duty, service, or womanly passivity...More to tlie point they have characterized themselves . as existing in relation to— in service to. in fulfilment of— another person or idea or purpose. That other" can be a husband, a lover, a director, children. God. stage roles, the public, or anotlier woman. Yet tliis other is almost never histor): the era. the spirit of the times, the culture, the arts-as R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 7 it is commonly for strong-willed men who see themselves as the expression and embodiment o f these large forces ' Postlewait’s literary analysis corroborates conclusions reached by feminist critics regarding the influence o f societal values on I9*-century European women’s self-writing (e.g., letters, diaries, autobiographies) in general.^ Yet his appreciation o f the compelling force of societal stricture on defining the self does not adequately explain patterns in Russian women’s history, with its chronicle o f 18* and 19*-century political activism as an alternate avenue for women to participate in the world outside the home. Postlewait’s model also weakens when we apply his thesis specifically to Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistolary self-writing, and this incongruity is due as much to the force of the actress’s personality on and off stage as it is to the social imperatives and cultural memory o f the period in which she lived. The Russian cultural tendency toward social action for women manifested itself in the actress’s letters by what 1 designate as a “militant martyr” voice, which takes its sources from the world o f politics and social involvement. The meaning o f the term ‘self-sacrifice’ in the citation, above, also weakens in application to the Russian experience. In Postlewait’s interpretation, the term is equated with passivity and absence of the individual will in service to the other.’ Yet scholars of 19*-century Russian women’s history such as Engel (1983:132) point out that this quality nonetheless could be understood as an active attribute; women Populists “first learned about authority relations and the efficacy o f self-sacrifice” * \m y emphasis-klm\ in the home environment and then transferred this commodity to their political endeavors. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 8 Engel (1983) discusses specific examples of politicized nineteenth-century women for whom self-sacrifice was a choice, not coercion. A corollary to Engel’s theory is self- sacrifice as a conscious means to effect change or control. Thus, the quality had the potential to be a reversal o f its cliche reference; a signifier o f activity and not passive resignation for politicized women since, moreover, “under certain circumstances, this willingness to accept martyrdom became the active pursuit o f if’ (Engel 1983:142). At times Kommissarzhevskaia almost pathologically ascribed to the biblical precept of suffering for one’s beliefs, but not as passive follower she often berated others for a lack of this show of commitment to their art. One additional factor isolates Kommissarzhevskaia’s writings from Postlewait’s schema: the discourse of power. Postlewait suggests this discourse is typically absent from tum-of-the-century actresses’ self-writing because it evidences calculated drive, determination, promotion of the individual will, and recognition o f the individual’s place in history. These traits are apparent in Kommissarzhevskaia’s writings throughout her correspondences and, again, we look to the individual and the times to clarify their presence. First, we need to expand somewhat the definition o f the Marge forces’ o f history (see Postlewait, above). On the one hand, conscious self-sacrifice is indeed one theme in Kommissarzhevskaia’s public and private personae, and service to the stage— and by extension, to the nation— was the driving force behind her life’s work as she understood it.* Yet her writing also contains a type of discourse (by which I mean the compendium of tone, word, and image) that nonetheless ‘expresses and embodies’ the ‘large forces’ of history if we consider that, like politics, the arts also play a role in shaping a society’s R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 6 9 definition o f itself. In terms of culture in general, Geertz (1983 ;99) has suggested that by “materializing a way o f experiencing,” the arts serve as the creative expression o f a collective consciousness, aspiration, and intent. Thus, perhaps we can also consider aesthetics to be another manifestation o f the embodiment' o f historical progression. In Russia, the writer traditionally assumed the role of coalescing the nation’s view o f itself and providing insight into the future o f that society, and with the early twentieth-century rise in acceptance o f theater as an arena for progressive thought, the inclusion o f the performance artist in this model is appropriate. As concerns Kommissarzhevskaia, in the final account, her extensive influence on the direction of Russian theater was conceptual more than concrete. Yet her self-writings indicate that she was cognizant o f her role in leading Russian theater into the 20* century, and through her decisions and actions she represented the incipience of modernity for factory women, university students, actors, poets: groups diverse in orientation but similarly socially marginalized. In Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters, alongside the many allusions to insecurity and vacillation that Postlewait and others might judge to be capitulation to accepted standards of self description for women at the time, there can also be found the conviction o f mission and authority. The latter in particular provides the framework for Kommissarzhevskaia's militant martyr persona, the discourse o f which expresses radical thought, conveyed through the aura of visionary inspiration and relentless capacity for self-sacrifice. What defines Kommissarzhevskaia’s charisma as a revolutionary committed to the goal of aesthetic and moral social renovation? In her writings, the militant martyr persona can be characterized precisely by those elements which Postlewait contends rarely if ever R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. no occur in the self-writing o f late nineteenth-century actresses: acknowledgment o f the self as agent of change, assertion o f the individual “F’ and its passionate quest for independence, and proclamation of the individual’s goal of social reform combined with the willingness to commit one’s personal life to the pursuit of this aim. Even prior to 1904, when Kommissarzhevskaia began her entrepreneurial activities and in so doing placed herself more explicitly in the realm o f civic interaction, passages in her letters indicated her goal-fbcused orientation. The self effacing tone initiating the following example is weakened by the concluding expression of dri ve: [ca. 19001 Tlie horrible thing is tliat I will never be able to carve out a patit for myself and follow it. If I had a great talent (like Duse, for example), this wouldn't be so bad. because although every talent carries ivith it the desire to search for ever newer paths, great talent has strong wings... Wlien you don’t have such exceptional talent you need to choose for yourself a path: wide, narrow—tliis depends on one’s energies—and follow it. Then more or less you will reach your goal.^ (Recorded by Bravich in Karpov 1911:146) The lack of self confidence, typical of herfem m e fragile image, is balanced by acknowl edgment of ambition: that each individual, irregardless of degree o f genius, has a right to define her own life. In a letter written several years later, prior to her Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s second season, the tone o f insecurity still exists but this tone shifts quickly to a counterpart that becomes the dominant element in the passage: If 1 w ere a less impressionable and enthusiastic person, with more faith in myself and —alas!—more means, so many mistakes would not have been made. But nothing irreconcilable has been done, and now only one thing is needed: to firmly and steadily follow the designated patli. not considering how and what. Each attempt to break R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 271 with old fonns usually meets with masses of enemies, and one must be ready for this.* There is a certain maximalism in the actress’s expression o f drive (one thing is needed: to firmly and steadily follow the designated path, not considering how and what’) and foresight to overcome obstacles (‘one must be ready for this ). Elsewhere during this time Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters convey her increasing conviction in the non-referen- tial function o f art and the requirement of unselfish dedication to serve this end: First one must have patience with tlie press and the liberal literati circles that want and will want for a long time yet that an serve politics: patience with the grumblings of dissatisfied actors... We must stoically pass through all this, sacrificing our nerves and means.* (Bravich. in Karpov 1911:143) As Kommissarzhevskaia gained a reputation for challenging theater routine through her acting, her letters conveyed her willingness to take risks in pursuit of her aim. In the summer of 1900, prior to her fifth season with the Alexandrine Theater, Kommissarzhevskaia had already acquired enough conviction in the validity of her ‘designated path’ to remind director Evtikhii Karpov o f his commitment to art and to instruct him how to devote himself to his work: Forget about ever>tliing with each tliought of your soul and mind. Give yourself up to art. serve it as you can. how you can. but entirely, with all your being. Serve that which is pure, bright distinct, demanding, and boundless as much as you can. * B y g b a 'le J io n e K O M w e n e e B n e 'ia T J iH T e J ib H b iM , y B J ie x a io m H M C îi. H M e tt S o j i b m e n e p u b c e 6 s i h — y s b i l - f i o j i b m e c p e flC T B —c ro jib K H X o iu h 6 o k n e 6 b t J i o 6 b i c f l e J i a H o , h o H e n o n p a B H M o r o H e c g e n a n o H H u e r o H T e n e p b H yifCH o r o j i b K o o g H o : T B e p g o h H e y io io H H O h t t h no H a M e u e H H O M y n y x H , H e C M H x a a c b HH c KCM H HH c 'te M . K a ^ K g a B n o tib iT K a n o K O H U H T b CO c r a p b i M H (p o p M a M H B c r p e n a e T o ô b iK H O B e H H o N ta c c y B p a r o B h k axowy n a g o S b i x b r o x o s b i M . *ripHgexcst cHauaJio xepnexb H ox npeccbt, h ox JiHfiepaJibHoro KpyoKxa JiHxepaxopoB, Koxopbie xoxBX H gojiro eme 6ygyx xoxexb. «ixoSbi HCKyccxBo oôcnyjKHBajio nojiHXHicy, ox ponoxa HegoBOJibHbix aKxepoB ...'lepei Bce axo M bi gojoKHbt cxoftKO npoitxH, JKepxayB H nepBawH, h c p e g c x B a w H . R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 7 2 and your life will be something worth speaking o f But serve it genuinely, and 1 will do the same. Truly, you could do worse than me for a helpmate. (#7 Mordison et al. 1956:502) Sacrificing the self for something pure and bright’ constituted the actress’s construct for the truly committed artist, whose mission, as defined in a passage in a letter to Nikolai Khodotov written about the same time (mid July, 1900), was analogous to Christ’s: “You can say about an artist’s soul what Christ said about Himself: “I am the Truth, and I am the path to Truth”* * (#85 Letters 8IT In her writings, the symbolism of sacrifice. Right, the theurgic function o f art, and an absolute vision suggest imagery which, for Kommissarzhevskaia’s circle, had its foundation in the Judeo-Christian religious tradition. Kommissarzhevskaia’s use of theological references reflects not only her own personal convictions but also the prevalence of religious imagery in the discourse common to the period. As the chapter’s epigraphs indicate, Kommissarzhevskaia’s contemporaries often invoked familiar Christian symbols to describe the actress’s cultural significance. In addition to the Orthodox Church’s domination over all aspects of life and art, tum-of-the-century Russia evidenced a surge o f interest in spirituality: the influence o f Vladimir Solov’ev’s metaphysical teachings on the Symbolist poets, Dmitrii Merezhkovskii’ s concept o f Symbolist art as theurgy and his search for a “new ** 3a6ygbTe o5o b c c m , BceMH noMbicnaNfH. noMbicnaMH ayuiH, rojioBbi, oTgaHxecb H C K y c c c T B y . cjiyjKHyre ewy xax yMeere. »ieM yMeer. h o Becb, Becb. flocnjOKHTe ewy HHcrowy. cBeTJioMy, B C H O M y, CTporoMy h 6e3KOHe«iHOMy CKOjtbKo cMOJKere, h Bbm 6yger new noMHHyrb C B O K ) xcH3Hb, H O nocJijoKHTe no-HacTOHigeMy, a«To jxe cgeajiio, h npaso. He rax yjx cBepHO HM eTb Taxoro noMo^HHXa, xax ». ***fIpo flymy apTHcra m o j k h o cxaaaxb t o , h t o X p H c r o c cxaaaji n p o c e G x : " H —flpaBga. H h nyrb x npaage." R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 7 3 religious consciousness” are two well-known examples. Although in his article on the “Literary Highlights o f 1907" {Literatunry itogi 1907godd), Aleksandr Blok (1979:39) degraded Merezhkovskii and Zinaida Gippius’ Religious Philosophic Society debates, where poets and priests sparred over terminology and ideology, as an example of the “worthless fact of the intellectuals' religious searching,” nonetheless their undertaking challenged the canon o f organized religion. Likewise the period saw an emphasis on . Dostoevsky as religious thinker more than social critic; a trend which, according to Kelly (1994:127), circumscribed the intelligentsia’s interest in spirituality to “a post- Dostoevskian revisionist version o f Russian Orthodoxy.” Kommissarzhevskaia herself described the first few years o f the twentieth century as a time “when mysticism played such a large role” in daily life, and her own religious preoccupation embraced a mystical understanding o f the Supreme Being In her letters, biblical allusions, introduced to intensify or clarify a point, or a variant of the formulaic “Christ be with you” at a letter’s closing, indicate the currency of Christian discourse at the time and Kommissarzhevskaia’s ease with this idiom. Yet her version of religiosity was a blend o f traditional beliefs and uncanonical spirituality, and in this she shared a cosmology with the Symbolist poets of the day (although excluding the erotic component o f their world view).^ Her reference to prayer ritual, outlined in a letter to Khodotov from mid-1900, identifies her as a practitioner o f Orthodoxy; her sole reference to the Crucifixion indicates again the model o f personal suffering and sacrifice that she believed the artist should follow: R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 274 [mid-July 1900) How I would like to teach you above all to love more— aoi me. no— everyone. Everyone— the good and the bad... When you re in the mood, go to Kazan Cathedral toward evening. As soon as you enter, keep going straight ahead to the large CruciGxiorL Stand to the right behind the column (I always pray there) and look for a long, long time at Christ’s face. His hands, and pray for all who suffer. If you pray tlius. you’ll feel something like the rush of a wave in yoim soul. Do it. .. Kommissarzhevskaia often placed herself as teacher to her male proteges,* and in this letter, she attempted to infuse Khodotov with her own trust in the symbols o f the Church and the power o f prayer. The letter’s closing invocation was conveyed by a series of similes, significant for their juxtaposition o f images: ...Well, what else can I tell you in closing? May your soul be as deep as tlie waters at die shores of the Maly Fontan canal, as pure as tlie gaze of Vasnetsov's Motlier of God. and love me as I now love Ursa Major. Christ be witli you.*’ (#85 Letters 82) Not only does the intensity of her spiritual activity result in a physiological response like the ‘rush of a wave’; as the final lines suggest, Kommissarzhevskaia’s concept of the Divine was expansive, encompassing the sentiment o f organized religion. Nature worship, and reverence for Art. Aleksandr Blok, whose private and professional lives were entwined with the actress’s Dramatic Theater during its final St. Petersburg seasons,*’ also shared Kommissarzhevskaia’s admiration for Vasnetsov’s paintings as a source o f inspiration. *KaK M H e x o n e T C H HayuHTb Bac jiio6hti> riojibine — He mchh— Her, a ecex. Bcex, h xopoiUHX. h aypHbix. ...Korga dyqer HacrpoeHHe,— noflHre b KasaHCKHM coriop— k Be'iepy. Kax BOHflere— H gH Te Bce npsiMo— Taw riojibuioe pacnxTMe. CxaHbTe Hanpaso aa K O JiO H H y (h tbm Bcerqa M OJiiocb) h C M orpirre flOJiro, aojiro na jihuo Xpncra, na pyxH ero— h noMOJinrecb aa b c c x , K O M y Tjracejio. Ecjih M O JiH T b C H BaM Tax, T O y Bac xax riygro Bojraa xaxaw-To nogHHwerca noT O M b gyme. Cgejiaftre. Hy, H T O eme M H e BaM cxaaaTb na npomanbe? Flycrb gyma Bama 6ygex Tax rjiyrioxa, xax Mope y rieperoB Marioro (hoHTana, HHcra, xax Bamag BacHeuoBcxoft doacben MaxepH, h jiio6ht Mena, xax a jiio6jtk) ceHnac Eojibuiyio MegBegHuy. Xpncxoc c Bumh. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 115 However, the bonds between actress and poet must be pieced through textual analysis rather than fact, as very few letters remain from their correspondence. Nonetheless, the predominance o f Christian imagery in the public portrayal o f Kommissarzhevskaia is largely due to the poet’s commemorative pieces dedicated to the actress. His first response to Kommissarzhevskaia’s death was a brief eulogy, printed in the St. Petersburg newspaper Rech’ directly upon news o f the actress’s sudden demise in Tashkent. Avoiding the sentimental spirituality of her more famous Symbolist roles (e.g., Maeterlinck’s Sister Beatrice, or even Chekhov’s seagnh, Nina Zarechnaia), Blok defined the actress by her presentation o f Hilda, in Ibsen’s Master Builder. Moreover, Blok did not describe Hilda in terms o f her relationship with the Master Builder but in her own right as a woman who rejects passive acceptance and declares her individual needs. He reminded audiences o f her demand for her “kingdom” “on the table,” which he interpreted as Hilda-Kommissarzhevskaia’s demand for a life on earth of her own choosing rather than heavenly reward for following a proscribed pattern o f behavior. Blok eulogized the actress for her passionate yet delicate nature (“She was all rebellion and all Spring”) and elevated her to the status of mystic and prophet for his generation. We \vereall...in love wtli her and wliat shone beyond her restless shoulders, whither her sleepless eyes and ever-anxious voice beckoned.... She was the “new testament,” and her risen spirit, ‘ ‘ alive in all o f us,’ was crowned with laurel and rose: R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 7 6 Her death ..for all its monstrous imexpectedness and undeserved cruelty, is a wonderful death. For this is not death: not the unusual death, of course. This is a new testament for us... She has not died, she is alive in all of us. And I beseech her bright shade, her winged shade: Let me weave into its roses and laurels the blossom of my sonowM and respectful love.* (Blok 1962:416) Christian symbolism revealed the association intended by Blok’s choice of flora: the laurel o f triumph, eternity, and chastity; the red rose o f martyrdom. This essay was soon followed by “In Memory o f V.F. Kommissarzhevskaia,” which Blok read at a memorial gathering held a month later in the hall o f the St. Petersburg Duma. Blok’s closing verses again codified the actress as a prophet not understood in her time and as a symbol o f faith (a play on her name, Vera) in the future: Tliey didn’t believe. But a youtliful voice there, in some unfamiliar heights, like strings caressed by the wind, sang to us and lamented the springtime. Let it be. in tlie heavens— Faitli is witli us. Look beyond the storm clouds: She is tliere— The banner unfurled by the wind, the Promised Spring."" (Blok 1962:420) * Bce Mbi...6bum BJUo6JieicHbi He TOJibKo b nee, h o b t o , «rro CBemnocb aa ee 6ecnoKOHHbtM H njieuaMH...CMepTb Bepbi <t»eflopoBHbi...npH Bcefi cBoeii 'lyaoBHinHOM HeoxHJtaHHocTH h HeaacJiyjK eH H O H JK ecroK O C T H —aro npeKpacHbiii cMeprb. Ha arc h He cMcprb. He oôbiKHOBeHHan cMepTb, K O H euH O . 3x0 ente HOBbift aanex flJiH nac...OHa ne ywepna, ona xoma b o Bcex nac. M a M O JiK ) ee cBemyK) xenb— ee Rpbuiaxyio xeHb— noaBOJiHTb M H e BruiecxH b ee poabi h JiaBpbi itBexoK Moeü xpaypnoH h nonxHxenbHOH BJnoôJieHHocxH. * ..He BepHJiH. A rojioc lOHoit/HaM n&n h nnaKaji o BecHe,/Kafc Gygxo Bexep xpoHyji cxpyHbi/TaM, b HesHaKOM oU Bbmnme . nycKaH xoxb b neOe-Bepa c HaMHiCMoxpH cKBosb rymi: x a M OHa-/Pa3BepHyToe BexpoM 3HaMa,/OèexoBaHHaa secna. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 7 7 Also published in 1910 was Sergei Auslender’s commemorative essay on Kommissarzhevskaia (quoted in part at the beginning o f this chapter). He, along with Nikolai Evreinov and others, concretized the images engendered in Blok’s verses by promoting Kommissarzhevskaia as visionary and martyr. For Auslender, Kommissarzhevskaia was a ‘fanatic, religious ascetic’ who craves miracle.’" Evreinov, whose Dramatic Theater production of The Princess (based on Wilde’s Salome^ sub verted traditional Christian morality by its erotic sets and theme, used a more heroic analogy. He described Kommissarzhevskaia’s artistic oppression under the State theater system and later in Meierkhol’d’s productions as her “Golgotha”; the cross she bore was the emblem o f theater renewal, not stylization. The strength of these images, which relayed Kommissarzhevskaia’s persona in terms o f historical significance, was still viable for the Russian émigré community a decade after her death. One emigre writer likened the actress to John the Baptist: hers had been “a voice crying in the wilderness,” prophesying a new age in Russian cultural life.’" It was not long before theater historians and political figures would canonize Kommissarzhevskaia as a revolutionary on the boards. In fact, the matriarch o f early twentieth-century political activism, Alexandra Kollontai, was one of the first to execute the transfer from religious to political rebel with her 1931 conjecture, “Was she [Kommissarzhevskaia] not a revolutionary on the theater stage? (Razve ona santa ne byla revoliutsionerkoi na podmostkakh teatra?T fin Letters 2501 The period o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s professional activity (ca. 1890 - 1910) coincided with an age steeped in apocalyptic events: regent assassination, the final R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 7 8 century o f the millennium, military defeat, and social turmoil. The age needed a figurehead whose vision and energies offered encouragement and solace amidst general anxiety caused by civic unrest and challenges to the political and social order. Especially after her death, Kommissarzhevskaia’s world view was interpreted by her colleagues in the theater, politicized university students and women enrolled in higher education courses. Symbolist poets, and Socialist reformers as responding to the ideal o f a visionary leader. We may question a leader’s appropriation of martyrdom as self- serving, but Kommissarzhevskaia’s life and philosophy nonetheless strengthened her affiliation as militant and martyr in the popular imagination. Moreover, Blok’s elegiac affirmation of Kommissarzhevskaia as the “unfurled banner o f a promised Spring” expressed the aspirations of his contemporaries and provided later generations with a ready identity for the actress. Indeed, post-1917 the idealization of Kommissarzhevskaia as inspired social activist gained broader appeal. In the early years o f the century, theater critics like Anatolii Lunacharskii had been influenced by Merezhkovskii’s theurgic principle of art and Viacheslav Ivanov’s call to theater as Temple. Later, as the first Soviet Minister o f Education and the Arts, Lunacharskii would base his commendation of Kommissarzhev skaia on her service as a theater ‘revolutionary’ who, nonetheless, “did not simply act on stage, but performed a religious rite.”'^ Lunacharskii was not interested in Kommissarzhevskaia as an expression of tura-of-the century fragility and femininity but as a symbol for art as political action (despite her own rejection of art in service to a political platform). He defined Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting style as “symbolic R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 7 9 realism,” and his reviews o f Dramatic Theater productions invariably supported the actress’s aesthetic talents against Meierkhol’d’s scenic experimentation.^^ Lunachar- skii’s adulation o f Kommissarzhevskaia may have been the green light for Soviet-era theater historians. In their search for models for social behavior, Soviet ideologues recast heroes o f the past as precursors to the age’s ideologically correct “New Person,” and militancy and politicized martyrdom were a part o f this discourse. Retrospectively applying the discourse of power to Kommissarzhevskaia was not without foundation, since there was ample historical fact on which to base this growing iconography o f the actress. Memoirs detailed the readings and benefit performances Kommissarzhevskaia gave as early as 1898 in support o f workers’ and student groups: a fine imposed on the actress by the Imperial Theater Directorate for organizing and performing a “Literature and Music Evening” for needy students;a 1903 performance for Jewish pogrom victims, duly noted by the police.'* The actress also signed petitions against censorship and donated the proceeds o f at least one performance o f Maksim Gorkii’s Children of the Sun as its poster announced, “to workers affected by the strikes” (in Aleksandrovskaia 1955:187). Almost identical to the Moscow Art Theater’s repertory at this time, in her first Dramatic Theater (1904- 06) Kommissarzhevskaia promoted Realist and Naturalist writers who were affiliated with Gorkii’s “Knowledge” (Znanie) publishing concern around 1903-04.'® Many of these dramatists, like Gorkii, Evgenii Chirikov and Semen lushkevich, were imprisoned for their political views or had their works censored. (Audience reaction to Children of the Sun is discussed in Chapter II). Moreover, in the summer of 1904 R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 0 Kommissarzhevskaia, Gorkii, his wife Mariia Andreeva, writers Leonid Andreev, Chirikov, and theater entrepreneur Konstantin Nezlobin were joining forces to create a new theater with railroad magnate and Art Theater patron Saw a Morozov as primary financier; plans were quickly curtailed by the events o f 1905 and Morozov’s suicide.'" Eager to show Kommissarzhevskaia’s conscious involvement in illegal political activities, memoirs written in the Soviet period politicized Kommissarzhevskaia to the • point of melodrama."* Yet for Soviet scholars, perhaps the most evocative example of Kommissarzhevskaia’s progressive attitude was her direct rejection of decadent art, subsequently upheld as the epitome o f degenerate bourgeois aesthetics. “And where all of a sudden has my "drive toward decadence’ and "alienation from Russian life’ come from?” Kommissarzhevskaia wrote to Karpov in summer, 1900: ...As if [ haven't told you a thousand times that tlie decadence that I know, that is. which makes itself known in such disfigured forms and strives to withdraw from the ideal of pure beauty, has notlung to say to my soul. 1 cannot relate to the decadent movement with such animosil} as you because among the decadents you will find not only those who take refuge beliind this label to give free reign to all tlie vulgariw inside them. You will also find tliose who seek the truth for their languishing spirit and think that they can find it in this movement. They are blind; I pity them, but 1 won’t follow tliem.' (Mordison et al. 1956:502) However, more than her association with subversive individuals and radical activities, Kommissarzhevskaia’s stage roles also helped to solidify her identification * H noTOM , o n q ^ a y M e n a s œ ic io c b a g p y r r a K o e « c r p e M n e i m e k g e q a q e H C T B y » . « o T H y x g e H H o c r b OT pyccKOH } K H 3 H H » ...K aK 6 y g T o a He r o B o p i o i a B a M c r o T b ic a « i p a s . ' i r o g e K a g e H C T B o , to, o K O TopoM H 3 H a io , T .C ., s a u B J U U o u te e c e 6 jt b TaKHX y p o flJ iH B b ix ({ lo p M a x , crpeMameeca yÜ TH ot H g e a J ia hhctom K p a c T O T b i, n e m o x c o t H n n e r o r o B o p i m » M o e A g y i u e . H H e M o r y o T H o c tr r b c a k fleK ag eu T C B T y c T eM n p e a p e H H C M . c KaKHM o T H o c H T e c b B b i , n .H . c p e g H q eK ag eH T O B H a A g y T c a ne TOJIbKO TaK H e, K O T O pbie, npH K pblBU IH Cb 3THM tip O S B H I K C M , ABIOT BOJHO BCCMy PHyCHOM y, HTO CHgHT B H H x, HaHflyTCH H T a K H e , KTO H u t y r n p a B g b i fljia C B o e r o T o c K y i o i n e r o g y x a h b stom aB m K eH H H a y M a io T HaÜTH e e . 3 to c n e n b i e , a n o a c a jie io hx. ho a e n o f t a y s a hhmh. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 281 with the revolutionary movement. As much as Gorky’s plays threatened conservative audiences’ sense o f social balance, and Wedekind and Wilde afih'onted attitudes about sexuality, the first word in theater revolution, and especially as concerned women in the profession in Russia and abroad, belonged to Henrik Ibsen. According to Blok, Ibsen was also a “banner” o f the period, the “last world writer... indispensable to people, and especially in this day and age to Russians.”*^ Elizabeth Robbins, England’s foremost feminist actress and promoter of Ibsen, heralded the roles of Nora and Hedda as “glorious, actable stuflf.”^ Likewise, for many, like Kommissarzhevskaia, the appeal of the “new drama” was its replacement o f Cinderella fem m es fragiles with New Women (see Chapter IV). Ibsen had acquired a broad appeal among Russian thinkers since the 1880s: Realists looked to Ibsen for answers to social evils, and Symbolists were interested in the Norwegian writer as a humanist concerned with issues of individual dignity and human rights. Kommissarzhevskaia’s interest in performing Ibsen did not wane with the demise of her first Dramatic Theater (popularly known as the “Theater of Ibsen”). In a July, 1907 letter to Meierkhol’d, her second theater’s first director, Kommissarzhevskaia iterated her enthusiasm for the dramatist and clarified her approach to performing Ibsen: “I’ve come to love Ibsen in a new way,” “Ibsen cannot inspire if you don’t understand him completely; you can’t perform or stage [him] without loving him entirely”* * (#247 Letters 164). In fact, perhaps one reason behind * "nocneaHHH MHpoBoit n H c a re J ib ... Heo6xoAHM HbiH m oflH M , a r e n e p b oco5eH H O - pyccK H M aioAsiM " **"C oB ceM no-HOBOM y n o Jiio 6 H Jia a H 6 c e H a ," " H 6 c e H n e M o jK aer eaoxH OBHTb, n o x a n e y iH a e u ib e r o B c e ro . u e jib a a h h c b ir p a x b , h h n o c ra B H T b , n o x a n e n o jiio ô M iu b e r o B c e r o x p y r o M . " R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 2 Kommissarzhevskaia’s eventual split with Meierkhol’d was the failure o f his stylized productions o f Hedda Gabier and A Doll’s House: instead o f accolades as the actress might have expected, given her previous success in Ibsen roles, her performances under Meierkhol’d’s direction brought only condemnation from the critics and threatened the actress with the loss o f popular support for her new theater venture.D espite these setbacks, Kommissarzhevskaia clearly felt an affim'ty with her Ibsen roles, which she continued to perform throughout her career. As social critic, Ibsen’s works acquired greater meaning for Russian audiences around 1905, with the culmination o f social unrest in general strikes, and the timeliness of Kommissarzhevskaia’s Ibsen performances (particularly in A Doll’s House) apparently helped to gain audience sympathy for the actress (Shaikevich 1974). Personality was also a factor, and theater historians concur that Kommissarzhevskaia’s success as Nora was due also to popular acknowledgment o f the actress’s psychological affinity with the dramatic heroine’s trait of beskompromissnost ’— an unwillingness to compromise.^ Theater historian Konstantin Rudnitskii (1978:142) contended that while purporting to be an ensemble theater, the Dramatic Theaters were so in principle only, and that in practice, these theaters revolved solely around Kommissarzhevskaia as leading actress and guiding authority. Indeed, memoirs and epistolary references corroborate the suggestion of a personality alternately described as decisive or capricious in the phrase that became the actress’s trademark response to conflict resolution: “I want it this way (/a tak khochu). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 3 The attributes o f conviction and inflexibility can be compared with the ascetic revolutionary, a type which, according to literary scholar Marcia Morris, has an enduring history in Russian literature. Although Morris does not postulate a true female model for the “ascetic revolutionary” type, the definition she provides is applicable to the present discussion. A militant whose goals might be defined as conceptual or aesthetic in nature rather than concrete (i.e., moral renovation as opposed to social reconstruction), the ascetic revolutionary is as an individual whose life “can be differen tiated from that of any other hero by the choice of nonreturn but also by an acceptance of extreme solutions to the problems of daily life” (Morris 1993:10). Moreover, the solutions posed by the ascetic revolutionary tend to the inordinate and thus frequently do not harmonize with the social group’s present state. We can also consider that this rupture causes the individual’s physical or psychological self-isolation, a partner to self- sacrifice and martyrdom. The self-sacrificial and religious or moral (rather than political) connotations of the ascetic revolutionary’s mission in particular have a direct bearing on my classification o f the militant martyr. Morris isolates predominately male literary examples of the ascetic revolutionary, but episodes in Russian history indicated that the concept of martyrdom had come to be associated with women’s political activity. For Kommissarzhevskaia’s generation (i.e., the “women o f the ‘80s-’90s”), within recent memory was Vera Zasulich’s unprecedented 1878 acquittal for anarchist activity. Zasulich’s defense, based largely on her claim of altruism, helped to establish the link between women’s political fervor and self-dedication in the popular imagination."^ R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 4 Kommissarzhevskaia’s ardent determination may have disconcerted Auslender and others (she was too passionate,’ ‘too ardent, too impatient’), but in historical terms her dedication, based on self-styled moral imperative, and especially the religious connotation o f sacrifice, “ followed the model for female behavior established by reform-minded Russian women in the past century and thus also helped to align her with the nascent twentieth-century revolutionary movement. This is perhaps what Evreinov was referring to when he metaphorized Kommissarzhevskaia into a heavenly orb whose power to illuminate was also the power to lead: VF. Kommissaizlievskaia illuminated by the light of her talent and sanctified by the truth of her soul those patlis in tlie search for tlie beautiful toward wliich the perspicacious of us so passionately and adamantly yeamed...Her participation in the “revolution of art" was profoundly important for its authoritative position.* (Evreinov 1910:30) This ‘authoritative position’ was not based on influence gained by financial strength (as one might argue bolstered Stanislavsky’s achievements) but on the actress’s fashioning herself in line with the demands of her individual aesthetic and ethical sensibility. In turn, this authority derived from Kommissarzhevskaia’s perceived willingness to sacrifice personal happiness, economic security, and even popular support in order to implement her convictions: her seemingly altruistic search to “uplift the soul ” impressed her audiences as indication of an inspired moral authority, a Joan o f Arc. K oM M H C capK eB C K aa o c B e m n a c u e r o n e M c u o e r o r a j i a i r r a h ocB X T H Jia n p a B A o ic cbocm g y iu H T e n y x H HCKaHWi n p e K p a c H o r o , k K O T o p b iM 3 o p K H e h 3 M ac r a i c c r p a c T H o h t b k H e n p e K Jio H H o T s ir o T e jiH ...E e y u a c m e b stoh " p e B O jn o m m H C K yccT B a" f i b u ia rJiy fio K O B a x H O n o c B o e n aBTOpHTeTHOCTH. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 5 With Russia’s immediate indigenous historical precedents and a literary legacy that equated social reform with idealism and martyrdom, it is not surprising that the story o f Joan o f Arc gained in popularity in Russia as it had in the West towards the end of the 19* century. Audiences were familiar with the Schiller opera based on the life of the 15* century French mystic, but the legend of the Maid of Orleans acquired a higher profile towards the end of the century when efforts were made toward the saint’s eventual canonization (1909, beatification; 1920, canonization). In early 1881, Chaikovskii’s opera. The Maid o f Orleans (Orleanskaia deva)^ had its debut at the Mariinskii Theater. Tragedienne Mariia Ermolova was instrumental in getting censors to pass Schiller’s Die Jungfrau von Orleans for staging in the Moscow Maly Theater in the early years of the decade, and as concerns the symbolic potential o f the saint’s life, it is significant that at least one production was a benefit for the Women’s Higher Educa tion Courses.^ Within a decade the Moscow Private Opera Association staged its own production, followed by other private theater companies into the first decade o f the twentieth century. More than the novelty o f a woman-warrior-saint, the narrative epitomized social notions concerning the ethos of a national (in this case, Russian) fighting spirit. Moreover, the tale o f a woman subsequently justified by her righteous ness for acts perceived to be o f social transgression had an overwhelming appeal at a time when small groups of well-educated, politicized women were leading the challenge to social order, despite official and cultural barriers to complete integration into civic life.^° Through their actions, these women provided contemporary models for the Joan of Arc type. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 6 The theme o f personal freedom was evolving in Kommissarzhevskaia's stage repertory as she progressed even further from Cinderella roles in melodrama and comedy to what she described as “real roles.” Indeed, as she wrote in her letter o f resignation from the Alexandrine Theater, she was guided in her decision to leave the imperial service by her recognition o f the supremacy of her own individual aesthetic ideals. As she explained in her resignation letter to Vladimir Teliakovskii, Imperial Theaters director: [early August 1902[ You ask me about nw reasons for leaving and express the hope that, after negotiating, we might be able to eliminate the impact of these reasons. There is only one reason — I want to work. I Gnd it imtenable to remain where my energies are not utilized, no matter what the reason. During tlie six years which 1 spent in tlie Alexandrine Theater, based on a whole series of observations. I lost the immutable faith that there might come a time when aesthetic considerations would prove more desirable for me. Without tliis faith I caimot serve that which I believe to be holy .J have no other recourse, because the first and primary duty ofm y life is to fu lfill the needs o f m y own artistic s e lf [my emphasis-klm\ (#150 Letters 119) The actress began to align herself more closely with political reform into the early years of the twentieth century when freed from the constraints of the Imperial theater system (she officially resigned from the Alexandrine Theater in 1902). Her act o f leaving for greater artistic freedom coincided with the growing efforts of political agitation toward * Bfai cnparnHBaexe Mena o npmiHHax Moero yxoga h Bbipaxcaere Hagexcgy na to , uto, neperoBopuB. M bi mofjih 6bi ycTpamrrb anmiHHe 3THX npHHHH. FTpHnima ro ja x o ogna- a xoay paSoraxb. Ocxanaxbca xaw, rge nonewy 6bi xo hh 6bino moh cnnbi ne yxHJiHanpyKixca, a ae Haxoacy gjia ce6a BOSMoacHbiM. B npogomKemre xex mecxH Jiex, xoxopbie a nposeJia b AneKcaagpHHCKOM xeaxpe, 6jiarogapa uejioMy pagy aaôaiogeHHH, a yxpaxHJia ôeanoBopoxHyio nepy b to, qxo MO*ex Hacxynaxb nojio*eaHe semeff b acxexnaecKOM oxaomeHHH gJia Mena jxejiaxejibHoe. CjiyacHXb gejiy, xoxopoe a caaxaio csaxbiM, 6 e 3 axoft Bepbi a ae Mory. ..nocxynaxb aaaae ae Mory, xax xax acnojiaaxb xpeôoBaaaa cboch apxacTHaecxoH jiaaaocxH a caaxaio nepBbiM a rjiaBHbiM gojiroM cBoeit 3KH3hh. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 7 reform and relaxing o f social constraints. While still serving in the Alexandrine, the story o f Joan of Arc in particular seemed to have the potential to fulfill Kommissarzhevskaia’s aesthetic platform that art should elevate sentiment by reflecting the Beautiful and project her awareness o f her own mission as conduit for spiritual and moral inspiration and regeneration. As she wrote to director Karpov, she "had been waiting so long” for a role like Joan o f Arc; a role which had the power “to return her faith in herself.” (This letter will be quoted in its entirety, below). Ten years after the premier o f Chaikovsky’s Maid of Orleans, the Alexandrine directorate planned to stage Schiller’s 1801 classic. Kommissarzhevskaia was to be cast in the title role. Although she recognized her weakness in performing historical roles, the character of the French saint appealed to her. However, she adamantly objected to the Schiller piece on the grounds that the play’s Romantic overtones would not suit the psychological needs o f contemporary audiences. In turn, Kommissarzhevskaia solicited Karpov’s aid in promoting a play on the same subject written by a young Russian playwright: R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 8 8 Please, I beg you, read carefaUy Annenkova-Bemar’s play .and let her know your sincere qjinion. I am favorably disposed toward the role of Joan. Reject Schiller. His Joan of Arc is the fruit of his genial fantasy, but this is the real [Joan|. Just like she was. and this is why this play will be of interest for our time. If an individual is surrounded by mysticism due to the miracle b\' which she accomplishes her deed, then now. when mysticism plays such a large role, that is. it's always played a role, but when you start to look into this, this play could be very interesting, and it's not without mood. Help me with your advice. Perhaps this will be the role that I’ve been somehow waiting for so long and that will restore my faith in myself... If only you knew how 1 want this play to be staged. I like the role. 1 can perform it. (#134 Letters 113-114) The ‘faith’ Kommissarzhevskaia hoped to find by creating this role was twofold. The Joan of Arc character to which her letter referred was an artistic construct in the play A Daughter of the People created in 1901 by her contemporary, actress-dramatist Nina Annenkova-Bemar.^* As mentioned in Chapter U, Annenkova-Bemar had dedicated this play to Kommissarzhevskaia. Certainly, the depiction of a woman who by devotion to her inner voice overcomes social castigation and personal humiliation might well have appealed to Kommissarzhevskaia, whose career in the Alexandrine Theater had been marked by peer rivalry, type-casting in plays which ‘say nothing to the soul,’ as she once wrote to Chekhov, and an inability to be guided by the dictates of her own ‘artistic self’ Annenkova-Bemar’s play was also a tribute to the actress’s triumph over private travail, whose almost formulaic circumstances made the actress’s private *rTo*anyHcra, oveasnpomy— npomrraHre B H U M a reJ ih R o m jscy AHHeiocoBofi-BepHap... h caeiiairre eh oTKpoBeHHo Bamn aaMeqaHim. Mne Hpaairrcx nojiojKHTejibHo pojib XCaHHbt. Oxpeuinrecb ot Uliinjiepa— ero UoaHHa g Apx imoq ero reHHajiboH cpairraaHH, a axo Hacrosnnasi, KaxoH oua 6buia. H noTO M y 3X0 xo3K e Moxex npeflcxaBHXb lorrepec h H M eH H o xenepb b name apcMH. Ecjih mnmocxb oKpyxeHa mhcfhuidmgm, 6jiaroflapji nygy. KoxopbiM ona cBepmiuia cboh noqBHr; xaK box xenepb. Korqa m hcxhuhcm nrpaex xaxyio èojibmyio pom,, xo ecxb pom, oh Bcerna nrpaji. h o naHHH b axo BrjiHAbiBaxbCH, axa m,eca woxex 6bixb ouenb HRxepecHofr h ona ne 6ea HacxpoeHHH HanHcana. floMorirre Bamnw coaexoM, woxex 6bixb, axa ôyqex xa pojib, KoxopoH a cMyxno jKay gasHo h Koxopaa Bepnex M H e aepy B ce6a... Earn 6bt Bbi SH ajiH , kuk mho xonexca, uxoGbi axa m,eca Bbiuuia. Mne npaBHXca poJib. a Mory ee cbirpaxb. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 289 achievements all the more impressive for her contemporaries (e.g., her father’s abandonment o f the family and subsequent change in social and financial status, an unscrupulous husband, finding fulfillment in devoting herself to theater). Two aspects of Annenkova-Bemar’s play particularly interested Kommissarzhevskaia: righteous action based on a spiritual impetus or mystery’ rather than political maneuvering, and a national appeal (recall her affront at the innuendo that she had become "alienated from Russian life,’ cited previously). Annenkova-Bemar had carefully researched the period and documentation about the saint’s life in an attempt to provide a realistic portrayal. She interlaced medieval French songs into her play, and provided a bibliography o f the literature on Joan of Arc. Yet her Joan o f Arc was not entirely a French type. As Zhanna (the name itself a russified Jeanne), the saint is portrayed as a feeble-minded country virgin who is ruled by a consciousness interpreted, depending on viewpoint, either as ego-induced or divinely inspired. As such, for Russian audiences she bore a resemblance to the “holy fool,” the village figure whose pronouncements were traditionally accepted as holy prophecies; perhaps an aspect that made Annenkova- Bemar’s play more real’ for Russian audiences than the exploits o f Schiller’s Romantic heroine. Contemporary female viewers would also have responded to Annenkova- Bernar’s fundamental depiction of Joan o f Arc as a New Woman version o f Every Woman: Zhanna’s father thinks marriage will cure his daughter o f the voices that urge her to command a battalion and rout the English from France, but Zhanna confidently and consistently relies on her inner self to guide her actions. In the play, woman as martyr is less important than woman as spiritual guide and moral reformer. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 0 A similar combination o f mysticism and militancy underlined Evreinov’s estima tion of Kommissarzhevskaia. Evreinov summarized that her goal as an artist had been to awaken acknowledgment o f universal ideals o f the Beautiful, the Good. Indeed, Kommissarzhevskaia’s militancy was not pragmatic but idealistic, and largely derived from the philosophy of John Ruskin, whose theory of social renovation was steeped in Christian teachings. (See Chapter II for a discussion o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s interest in Ruskin). ' If a wizard appeared right now and asked me what I want, “ Kommissarzhevskaia wrote to Bravich during their work together at the Alexandrine, "I would say: the gift of words. Lord, how quickly I would convince people that life can be beautiful if everyone will really strive for the beautiful”* (Bravich, in Karpov 1911:151). Or, as in an earlier letter to Karpov: “Remember each moment that as long as humanity is not imbued and infused with mutual love, all our personal desires, burning will, and desire to embrace the truth, remain fhiitless.” According to Kommissarzhevskaia’s definition, the artist-as-theurg was a medium, ordained to generate spiritual rebirth: [July 18981 Wewill betlie living rocks of ballast that an invisible hand will pour in one spot for tlie foundation of a tower on vvluch will bum a liglit so bright that notliing will be able to put it out. Science, art, ev ervihing weak and evervthing strong will unite in one * Ecnn 6bi ceiriac H BH nca BOjnueSuHK h cnpocHn, *rro « xo«iy, a 6bi cKaaajia— gapa cnona. Focnogn. KaK cKopo a y6egHJia 6bi Jiiogefi b tom, xax opexpacna Moacer 6birb acHSHb, ecjin Bce 6ygyr crpeMHTca "no HacroauteMy" k npexpacHOMy. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 1 aspiration and will effortlessly elevate the suffering and the persecuted, and return them to the light. (#35 Letters 66) In this excerpt, the manner in which Kommissarzhevskaia expressed her faith in the rightfulness of her artistic mission—that creative endeavor will ‘eflfortiessLy elevate the sufifering and the persecuted’— conveyed the perhaps naive hope o f an individual driven by some “higher principle” rather than what the reality around her dictated, not unlike Annenkova-Bemar’s artistic formulation. The play A Daughter o f the People ends with the shout, “She is holy!” (O na svfataia); we recall Blok’s reference to “in the heavens. Faith is with us.” In my definition, Kommissarzhevskaia’s militant martyr persona has much in common with the discourse o f religious activists like that ascribed to Joan of Arc, whose incentive for action derives foremost from an ethical rather than social or economic impetus. As much as Kommissarzhevskaia shared certain attitudes with the earlier generation of political activists, her epistolary voice as militant martyr harbors none of the Marxist or feminist rhetoric found in the self-writings of her Populist sisters. We find no use o f formulaic terms such as ‘class struggle,’ social inequality,’ emancipation,’ or other examples of a politicized vocabulary. On the one hand, one might consider these omissions as an expression of Postlewait’s rhetoric of denial, for * * rio M H H T e K a au ry K ) M H H y ry , t f o n o x a n e H a n o j im r r o i , H e npoH H K H eT C H o 6 i n e ü J iio 6 o B b io n e jio B e q e c T B o , B c e H a u iH JiH H H b ie c rp e M J ie H H Ji, r o p s n a x aojix, xejia m te o e -b X T b HCTHny o c r a H y r c s i 6 e c iu io g H b i...B y f le M x e )KHBbiM H K aM eu ix aM H x o r o m e S n a , K O T o p b iti H eB H gH M aa p y x a c c b in a c T b o g H o m c c t o g j w (jjy H fla M e H ra t o h 6 a m H H , n a K o r o p o H a a a o K e T c a c b c t a p x H H , T a K o ü apK H H , H T o HHHTo y x H e 6yaer a cunax e r o n o r a c H T b . H a y x a , H C K yccTB o, B c e c j i a 6 o e h B c e cH Jib H o e coeRHHMTCH B ogH O M cT p eM JieH H H H J i e r x o n o g b i M e r c r p a g a ic m H X , a a rp a B J ie H H b ix H o 6 p a T H T Hx K C B e x y . R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 292 by replicating slogans and phrases associated with extremist activity, the actress might have risked alienating the wealthy segment o f her audience and thus deliberately undermining the continuation o f her life’s work. However, Kommissarzhevskaia’s sensitivity to the need for political change was generally known, as previous examples indicate. Thus, I believe the lack o f specific references to power and subjugation in her letters should not be accepted as an attempt to hide socially unacceptable sentiment. On the contrary, Kommissarzhevskaia consistently drew her “revolutionary” discourse from Christian imagery o f the religious martyr and Symbolist notions o f the artist-theurg. This orientation derived from the influence o f the aesthetic ideals o f her father’s generation, for whom a quasi-Art’s for Art’s Sake aesthetic prevailed. Romantic notions of the integrity of art had their extreme expression in Meierkhol’d’s pre-1910 stylized theatrical productions and flowered in the later Futurist aesthetic that elevated “art as such ” But for the aesthetic intelligentsia just prior to the turn o f the century, the goal of art was not art itself but Art as a medium to a higher consciousness— Beauty, T ruth- accessible through emotion and not logic, and understood as the final arbiter of ethics and sensibility. “He speaks so well,” Kommissarzhevskaia wrote about her father during a 1901 visit, “because he feels everything that he says and indefatigably bums with love for the beautiful in all its manifestations.” For Kommissarzhevskaia, Beautifiil was also equated with spirituality; in the letter cited above, the mention o f her father’s commit ment to Art motivated a silent prayer in the form o f a biblical quotation: R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 3 [18 February 1901] . .He speaks so well because he feels everything that he says and indefatigably bums with love for the beautifiil in all its manifestations. Anyone who can see this in him is immediately smitten by it. and you can’t not see it. Today in the missal [I read]: Guard carefully your soul. I am with you and will protect you everywhere you go.*^^ (#111 Letters 99) As she wrote in her letters and explained in numerous interviews, Kommissarzhevskaia was guided by her mission as theurg to serve Art and not a political agenda.^^ In her insistence on the independence o f artistic expression, Kommissarzhev skaia's aesthetic platform again coincided with Stanislavsky’s, and it is not unlikely that the actress and director were directly influenced by Fedor Kommissarzhevsky as both had studied with him in the Moscow Society for Art and Literature during the early 1890s. Years later, Stanislavsky would codify his opposition to art in service to political impulse, as he wrote in My Life in Art (1952:390): true art fades whenever it approaches tendential. utilitarian, nonartistic patlis. In art. tendency must change into its own ideas, pass into emotion, become a sincere effort and tlie second nature of tlie actor. Only then can it enter into the life of the human spirit in the actor, role and tlie play But tlien it is no longer a tendency : it is personal credo. As ‘revolutionary,’ Kommissarzhevskaia approached the same goal as the Socialist Democrats and other left-wing sympathizers, only from a different orientation: whereas they sought to achieve the transformation of society through legislation and regulation, the actress based her struggle on the internal and eternal human need for emotional * O h t u k x o p o m o r o B o p i r r , n o x o M y u x o 'ty n c x B y e x n e e , h x o r o B o p i r r , u u e n e p e c x a s a H r o p w x jiio d o B b io K fipeiq p acH O M y b o B c e x e r o n p o N u n e H H U x . 3 x h m o h c p a a y 6 e p e x g y m y x e x , k x o c y M e e x 3 X 0 y B H flex b B h u m , a H e y s H jt e x b a x o r o H e Jib sn . CeroflHJi B M OjnrrBeHHHKe: "EepexHCb h xutaxejibHO x p a H H aymy x b o io . H c x o 6 o i c h c o x p a H i o xe6n B e s g e , fcyga xbi hh noHRemb. " R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 4 bonding and spiritual succor. In her letters, these themes are developed under the mbric of an idealism which presupposes a determinism to devote all possible energy in attaining the goal and an intolerance for those who counter or impede progress toward that aim. As an organizational system, I suggest four fundamental components which, when taken as a whole, crystalize the actress's militant martyr epistolary persona: 1) the visionary artist-theurg, presaging by her call to a higher reality; 2) the expression o f conviction and service to the Ideal, and the recognition o f self as instrument o f change; 3) a propensity for self-sacrifice as a necessary corollary to theurgic action; and 4) a teleological impetus directed at the future. The following concluding examples demonstrate how these concerns overlap in word and image throughout the actress’s correspondences. One of Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters to Karpov from summer 1900 conveys particularly well the aspects of the militant martyr discourse, outlined above. In the fi-agment below, the themes of devotion to an Ideal, the need for self-sacrifice, and a strong sense of the self as medium for change are rendered in an animated, commanding manner: ...You love the artist in me. don’t you? Weil, let’s lock a^vay in a drawer our relationship as friends and open it when we must. But for now. let’s serve arm in arm tliat wliich we both love, that Higher Law has determined we should love, for which everything can and m ust be sacrificed because it experiences this sacrifice as well as all our joys and sorrows and our very selves. Yes. I rush about aimlessly, but I have never betrayed it and it alone, which by serving, you become more eimobied. Go. dear one. good one— will you really be so weak and prove a traitor for the sake of the earthly storm? Let it pour a new stream into your soul! After all. this is temporary , bearable, and right this very minute, eternity is speaking with you through me. Yes. yes. etemiw. because rarely my soul is so attuned as it is now. and only in moments like these can it see so clearlv. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 5 According to historian Anne Barstow (1986), mystical experience traditionally has functioned as an avenue by which marginalized individuals (in this case, marginalized by gender) might question sources of earthly power by invoking a “higher” authority/^ For that authority to be accepted by the general populace, the mystic or martyr does not choose her fate but expresses it as a bestowal that she is incapable o f rejecting. The letter continues: ...I feel that I must still live and do something great, and this consciousness doesn’t come from something superficial and human, no. this is the Higher voice, and woe to whomever does not answer my call at such a time...lf only you knew how unquestionably I feel (and not through my faculties of reason) that I have been entrusted with sometliing important but have occupied myself with trifles and have almost forgotten about this.* (#86 Letters 82) Kommissarzhevskaia’s friends Karpov and Khodotov, and certainly her critics, may have relegated the actress’s constant searching for a performance style and dramaturgy as a weakness, yet the actress remained convinced that the power to reach audiences was within her and only needed release by the right dramatist’s pen (as she hoped to find, for example, in Chekhov and Briusov). Those who considered the actress a * Bbi jnodHTe b o m h o apmcrra, qa? Tax h o t , uy, aanpew ceimac name oTHomeHHe flpyr k apyry B H U tH K , H M bi OTOtipeM epo. K O PQ a 6ygeT naao n m o x h o . a noxa Syqew pyxa o6 pyxy cjiyjxryb TOM y, H To M bi o6a j i k ) 6 h m , ' i t o jTK)6nTb onpegejieHo BbicmHM SaxoHOM. paqn Hero m o x c h o , ffojnKHo BceM acepTBosaTb, norowy h t o o h o nepexHBaer h ary xceprsy, h Bce HauiH pagocTM n nenaJiH, h M ac cawHX. fla, st 6pocaiocb. a xHqaiocb, h o n He HaMemuia HHXorqa eme eu y , aroMy egH H C TB eH H O M y cMy, npecbiMxancb nepeg xoTopbiw.— Boasbiuiaeuibcn. Hatrre jxe, aoporoH...riycTb o h o Hosyio crpyio eme Bojiber b aymy Bamyî Beâb aro ace speweHHoe. HaHocHoe, a b o x ceftnac, b axy M HHyry B em ocTb p o b h p h t c B b m h nepea Menn. Jla, a a > BeHHOcrb, noTOM y H T O peaxo m o st a y m & B 6biBaer rax Hanpæxena, xax cetfnac, h rax npoaopjiHBo BHaerb sce- -oHa M O H cer rojibxo b T aiate MHHyrbi, h a H yBC TB yio, h t o h eme aojracna xorrb h cffejtaTh gro-ro GojTBinoe, h aro coanaHHe BbiaBano He HCM -HH6yab noBepxHocTHbiM, HejioBenecxHM, Her , aro roJioc BbtcmHâ,— H rpex rowy, xro He oTBentr na M oft n p H a b iB b raxyio MHHyry.. . E c j ih Gbi Bbi anajiH, xax x h c h o H yB C TB V io ( h m c h h o ne yM O M aro coanaio), h t o M H e nopyHHJiH h t o - t o BaxcHoe, a X aanxjiacb nycrxxaMH h noHTii saGbiaa o6 aroM BaxcHOM R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 6 visionary recognized the Higher Authority’ that guided the actress’s aimless rushing about;’ her detractors saw only a series o f missteps and bad judgments. Indeed, Kommissarzhevskaia’s search for the Truth often made her appear indecisive. But once made, her decision was irrevocable, as in her further history with Annenkova-Bemar’s A Daughter of the People. A few years after unsuccessfully lobbying for an Alexandrine Theater production, Kommissarzhevskaia planned to use the play to inaugurate her first Dramatic Theater. Yet with very little warning, she stopped work on the piece after the play had already gone into production: “I have something to tell you, Nikolai Aleksandrovich,” she wrote to her director, Popov, in July of 1904, “which will surprise you. I’ve decided not to stage A Daughter o f the People during this season” (#202 Letters 149). Among her reasons was the claim of insufficient time to prepare her role, but we can also surmise that she was particularly anxious about performing an historical role and hesitated risking failure in her theater’s first production. Instead, she chose Gutzkov’s Uriel Acoste. a play familiar to her cast and without a female lead; in this way she hoped to indicate her (at least superficial) renunciation of the star system and thus mark her new enterprise as a cutting-edge venture. Popov was clearly disappointed by Kommissarzhevskaia’s rejection o f the Annenkova-Bemar play. In her response to him, the actress-entrepreneur iterated her decision in an authoritative and blunt manner: [My 1904J Standing at the head of such an enterprise and having decided to perform an liistorical role for tlie first time. I can allow myself to present it only if it is completely ready. You may criticize me that I should have thought about this before, but some things a person can’t predict.. I can’t understand why you should consider your work R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 7 to have been squandered in vain, since the play will be performed next season... From the very first steps that we took in the name of this future concern, confidence was bom in me that namely you will work hand in hand with me. And suddenly, without even starting this imdertaking. you want to retreat because I came to a certain decision. Knowing well enough my relationship to this concern, how could you not know that, when I refect any initial decision made for this business that is so serious, so dear and cmcial to me. no matter what it is. I will not be guided by personal whim or the number of downed goblets of champagne, like lavorskaia. Rather. I will come to a certain conclusion after weighing and considering all the pro and contra that are vital to this undertaking. By initiating such an original and dangerous business (due to the number of otm enemies), we must be extremely careful from the very begiiming not to clip oiu* own wings.* (#213 Letters 150) Here, the ethereal tone of the visionary is replaced by the voice o f the new entrepreneur, who undoubtedly faced more problems than she anticipated when she turned to com pany management. The passage gives reason to doubt the actress’s total commitment to the concept of a collective, since in her letter, the phrase ‘working hand in hand’ did not mean ruling by consensus but by the authority of the organization head, and Kommissarzhevskaia reserved that right for herself. Yet rather than alienating her new company, Kommissarzhevskaia was able to maintain her position o f control through the force of her incontrovertible belief in her individual right to authority as a true artist. She was able to convey this sovereignty to many with whom she worked, and her friends remained loyal to her. As Barstow suggests, by invoking a higher authority’ * Ctosi bo rjiaae TaKoro gejia n peuiHB Bbiciyinm. nepabiH pas b HCTopiniecKOH poau, a t o j ib k o B T O M cnynae Mory ce6e noaaojiHTb b neft BbiH TH , ecnH ona y Mena anarm e roroaa. Bbi Moacere M H e Ha 3TO BoapasHTb, h to a Morjia paubme o6 aroM nogyMarb, ho HCKoropbix aeiqeH nejioaeK He Moacer npegBimeTb...HTo Kacaerca Baineft pafioTbi, a coaepnieHHO ne noHHMaio, noueMy ee Haqo cHHTaTb aanpacH o aaryfijieaHoft, paa nbeca noftqer b fiygymeM ceaoHe . Bo mhc c nepawx maroB, cgeJianbix bo raaa fiyqymero flejia, poquaacb yBepcHHOcTb, hto h m c h h o Bbi acerga nowqeTe C O M H O H pyxa o6 pyxy. H Bgpyr, He nanaa eme gena, Bbi xonrre oTcrynuTb o t nero noTOMy, hto a npHuuia k HaaecTHOMy peiueHHio. gocraToHHo H ayH H B Moe oTHoinenne k ge/iy, ne MoaceTe ace Bbi He anaTb, hto, oTKJionaa KaKoe-HHôygb nepaoHaHaribHoe pemeHHe a tbkom cepbeaHOM mhc goporoM H oTBeTCTBeHHOM gejie, a He crany pyKOBogcTBoaaTbca, KaK HBopcKaa. JiH H H biM HacrpoeHHeM hjih KO JiHHecTBOM BbiiDfTbix SoKarioB uiaMnaHCKoro, a npHgy k naaecTHOMy peuieHHK), aaBecHB h oôcygHB ace pro i contra, w a a sb i e . a n s t n e j i a . HanHHaa Taxoe HCKJiioHHTejibHoe no aaMbicJiaM h onacHoe a CMbicne HaJiHHHocTH sparoa gejio, Mbi gonacHbi dbiTb Kpanne ocTopoacHbi, HTofibi a caMOM Hanane He nogpeaaTb cefie Kpbun>ea. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 2 9 8 Kommissarzhevskaia seems to have been able to maintain control over all aspects o f her theater. Cognizant o f her edificatory role as theurg, Kommissarzhevskaia often turned to instruction or platitude as guidelines to help others to manifest their true artist’s soul. The message of austerity and self-control, also associated with the ascetic personality (Morris 1993), permeated her letters, even to the degree o f constructing a daily regime: “You didn’t listen to me,” she wrote to Khodotov in early 1901, “when I told you that without fail you need to get up early, throw some cold water on yourself and do exercises” (#109 Letters 98). In this regard, perhaps her letter to Nikolai Roshchin- Insarov best identifies the actress’s philosophy on the nature o f the creative process and the true artist’s attitude to art. Not only the language but the length o f the letter suggest the degree to which Roshchin-Insarov’s actions had morally outraged the actress. I quote here a diflferent fragment from one introduced in a previous chapter: [Febmaiy-March 1894| ...There are different kinds of pit}. I see someone who has fallen into the mud. and I hurt}' to help him up because he is ill and caimot step over the puddle by his own efibits. and I pity him because of this. But then sometimes it seems tliat he can’t step over tlie puddle because he is drunk. 1 don’t Judge him. because I don’t know what brought him to tliis state, but now he is an animal. 1 pity liim too. though this piw comes close to contempt Don’t you see. I’m always searching until it hurts for the beautifiil eveiywhere. in eveiy thing, beginning of course witli the human heart. Once I Snd the beautiful, once I see this spark. I am ready to give my entire self without a second thouglit in order to coax tin's spark into a flame ...You are a great artist, but you will never be who you could be with your talent. You’ve come to a standstill: no one at all can save you and there is no salvation for you. You are asleep to spiritual life without which the artist in you will begin to die... What could save you? Only one thing— love for art. for that art which has long since ceased to be a goal for you and R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 299 has become only a means for the satisfaction of your own vani^ and all kinds of desires that have nothing whatsoever to do with art." (#2 Letters 32-33) Written in 1894 while the actress still served in provincial theater companies, the message of her letter to the wayward actor remained programmatic throughout her life. She continued to be guided by her belief in the artist’s responsibility to lead a “proper” life indicative of the hallowed event in which he o r she was participating. She also continued to see herself as keeper o f the knowledge, with her own designated role to relay that knowledge to others: [To Karpov, early August I900| Those few years that I can serve my work. 1 want to do something for it and if no one wants to help me. 1 must do this myself " (#92 Letters 88) [To Khodotov. January 1901} Listen to me now. The time when you could think of nothing and no one. when all your thoughts at each moment were occupied with me. has passed...Take advantage of this. Azra. arouse the artist in you and try to give yourself to it with each thought * XaJiocTb SbinaeT paanan: SbiBaer. a stcfcy, HartpHMep. nejioBeKa, ynaatuero b rpasb, a cneuty noMoqb ewy nognarbca, rare KaK oh SoJibHOH. He HMcer cnjibr nepefm i Jiy*y h mhc JKajib ero npii 3tom; ho HHorga oKaacerca aqpyr. «ito oh He mop nepefixH egHHCTBeHHo o r roro, h to oh itban; ne 3Haa, H T O HM eHHo qosejio ero qo aroro cocroaHMa, a ne ocyacqaio ero, ho oh ceftnac acHsoTHoe, H MHe Toace ero acajib, xora axa yac acanocxb no«rxH rpamniHT c irpeapenneM. BHqnxe jih, a qo 6ojih Hiqy Bcerqa, Beaqe, bo BceM npeKpacHoro, Ha«iHHaa, KO He«tH o. c qyum qejioBeaecKOH, h, Hairqa 3X0 npeKpacHoe, ysHqa axy H C K py, a roxoBa ne xonbKo npocnixb Bce ocraribHoe, ho ceGa, bcio ce6a oxqaxb 6ea paaMbiinJieHMH, hxo6 paaqyxb axy HCKpy a ruiaMa . ApxHcx Bbi SoqbmoH,...Ho Bbi HHKorqa He Gyqexe xeM, aeM mopjih 6bi Gbixb npH BaineM xajianxe. Bbi ocxanexecb na xo'iKe aaMepaaHHa, hhkxo. hh«ixo ne cnacex Bac: ox ce6a cnacenna Hex. Bbi aacHyjiH qjia qyxoBHOM aoGHH, 6ea Koxopoii Ha«mex yMHpaxb b Bac h apxHcx...HTo mopjio 6bi cnacxH Bac? O qeo, xojibko oqHo: JiioGoBb k HCKVccxay, k xowy HCKyccxay, Koxopoe qaaHo nepecxajio Gbixb qjia Bac iteribio, a cxajio JiHinb cpeqcxaoM yqoanexaopeHHa co&rraeHHoro xiqecjiaana h aceaosMoacHbix cxpeMJieHHH, He HM eKruiHX HHMero oGmero c HCKyccxaoM. ** A qejio a xom, «ixo xe HeMHOme roqbi, nxo a Mory nocnyaarrb qejiy, mhc xonexca HXO-HH6yqb cqejiaxb qna Hero, h ecnn hhkxo hc xoaex M He noMoab, xo a caMa qojiacna axo cqenaxb. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 0 and create the complete structure of life for this alone.. J will come help you in everything you want and need.* (#106 Letters 95) When others’ actions did not correspond with her aesthetic sensibility, the actress’s position was severe and absolute. She had had harsh words to say about her fellow Alexandrine actor, Mamont Dalskii, when he was ousted from the company in summer 1900; His morality doesn’t concern us. but his attitude to our business has brought our work to a halt: something as demoralizing as this you’ve got to pull out from the roots so that others aren’t infected... It’s as hard as cutting off someone’s finger though it must be done to save the entire hand. (Mordison et al. 1956:502) For Kommissarzhevskaia, the business’ {deld) of art was more important than individ ual needs, especially when reckless behavior threatened further development. This same reasoning was behind her dismissal o f Vsevolod Meierkhol’d from her own theater troupe seven years later: In recent days. Vsevolod Emilevich, I have been doing a lot of thinking, and I have come to the profound conviction that you and I have different ideas about Theater and you and I are searching for different things. All this time you have been walking a path that leads to puppet tlieater . To my profound regret. 1 only discovered this recently after much thought I look the future right in the eyes and say that we catmot both walk down this path together— this is your path, not mine. And as for what you said at the last meeting of our aesthetics board. Perhaps 1 should leave the theater?’ 1 now say— Yes. you must leave. For this reason. I no longer consider you my co- *** riocjiyuiaHTecb Mena ceimac. T o t nepHog, Korga Bbi He MorjiH hh o new. hh o kom gywarb. Korga B c e M bicJiH bo Bcaicyio MHHyrbi Gbuin aamtTbi mhoh, npomejt...BocnoJtb3yfrrecb 3thm, Aapa, paieygHxe b ce6e apxHcra h nonpoGyfrre orqaTbca eMy BceM H noMbicnaMH, coagairre Becb crpoH H C H 3 H H TOJibKO njisi Hcro...Bo BceM, B HeM xoTHTe, H T O BaM noHagoGHTca— a npngy k BaM Ha noMoutk. * * * Haw H e r gena go ero HpaBCTBCHHocTH, ho ero oTHomenne k geJiy TopMOSHJio geno b hojihom H mnpoKOM CMbicjie 3Toro cnoBa, h TaKoe geMopaJiHsyioutee aaneHHe nago c KopneM H3T.aTb. HToGbi oho He aapasHJio ocraJtbHbix...3To Tax sxe TpygHO, xax Tpygno oTpyGHTb xoMy-nnGygb najieu, xoTa SHaeiub, hto 3to Hago g[Jia] cnacenna Bcen pyxn. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 1 worker. I have asked K.V. Bravich to inform the company and explain the situation, because I do not want people who work with me to work with closed eyes. (#251 Letters 168) The primary reason given for the dismissal was that, by emphasizing form over content, Meierkhol’d had bridled the creative work o f her theater and her company with endless experimentation, but to no purposeful goal. But the letter's implication was more personal. MeierkhoPd’s efforts no longer coincided with the actress’s own aesthetic platform, and for this reason she sought to pull it out from the roots,' as she had earlier instructed Karpov regarding Dalskii. Looking the future right in the eyes' was also part o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s self-definition as a progressive theater reformer, and letters indicate her preoccupation with modernity as a measurer o f worth. She often expressed this sentiment as a drive for “moving forward” {idti, dvigat ' vpered) and discarded behavior which she consid ered an impediment to progress. As we have seen, Blok was captivated by the actress as a symbol of a bright and shining future. Kommissarzhevskaia's secretary and final director, Arkadii Zonov, also described her as a progressive-visionary, spurred by inner vision toward aesthetic wholeness: Witli an eternal protest against out-dated, decrepit traditions, revealing the light of the hiture in the revelations of her sensitive soul. Vera Fedorovna alwavs burned with this * 3 a nocjienH H e «hh, B c e s a n o g 3MiDn>eBHH, a mhofo g y M a n a h n p H iu J ia k rjiySoK O M y yG exgcH H K ). H TO Mbi c B aM H p a sH o cMorpHM Ha r e a r p , h r o r o , 'i r o i i m e r e Bbi, hc m ity a . lly T b , Benymitit k r e a r p y iqTcoJi, a r c n y n ., k K c ro p o M y B b i iiijih see B p e M a ...K M oeM y rjiy ô o K O M y c o acajieH iiio . m hc 3TO oT K pbiJiocb B n o jrae TOJibKO 3 a nocnegH H e gmr, n o c n e a o j i i m a y M . 51 c M o r p io 6 y g y m e M y n p aM o B r j i a s a h ro B o p io , hto n o aTOM y n y n t Mbi B M ccre H R T H n e mojkcm,— n y r b aT o T B a m , ho hc moh. H H a B a in y cppaay, cK asaH H yio b n o c jie q n e M saceqaH H H n a m e r o x y n o x e c T B e H H o ro co B eT a : MuaceT 6 b iT b , MHe y i m t H3 T eaT pa— a r o B o p io T e n e p b — g a , y i m i B aM H eo6xogH M O . FIoaTO M y a G o jib m e hc M o ry CHHTaTb B a c cbohm coTpygHHKOM , o hcm n p o c m t a K .B . E p a a n n a c o o S iu H T b T p y n n e ii B biacH H T b e ft B ce n o jio x e H H e g e jia , n o ro M y hto n e x o n y , htoôbi Jiio g H , p a S o T a io in H e c o MHoft, p a 6 o T a jiH c sax p b iT b iM H rjia sa M H . R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 2 future and persistently advanced in pursuit of what her artistic sense painted for her. (Zonov in Alkonost 114) As Zonov implied, Kommissarzhevskaia’s drive toward futurity was not a wish fiar immortality or fame. Rather, the concept o f modernity reflected her idealist trust in the function o f Art as moral guide. As theurg, the artist needed to be ever vigilant so as not to impede the demands of her mission. “Don’t get too carried away by Nietzsche,” she once wrote to Khodotov. “One should think o f him as a genius, but once you make his philosophy a symbol of faith, you’ll never go forward (Sdelav ego filo so fiiu simvolom very, nikogda ne poidesh ’ vpered)'^ (#88 Letters 84). She warned Karpov that a director, like the actor “must progress, or fall completely into routine ” (#80 Letters 77). As exuberant as she was in her stage roles, for Kommissarzhevskaia movement toward the Might o f the fiiture’ was often experienced as a melancholy emotion, not unlike the response o f Chekhov’s heroines, who work through their pain to reach greater personal understanding. For Kommissarzhevskaia, this emotion was part o f the price of striving to serve Truth, and she applied to herself the same stringent test she used to determine others’ commitment and capability to serve Art to herself. She used anecdotes fi'om her own life as cautionary tales, instructing her interlocutor how best to the medium o f Beauty and Truth. In the passage, below, she suggests to Khodotov how to respond to success (“it” refers to a laurel wreath the actress received at the end of the theater season): I went into my dressing room, tlirew it down, and binst into tears. I was ashamed, as if I had stolen something... The sense that this feeling is one that moves the individual and artist forward has not left me. May you always be true to the truth alone in thought and deed.' f#i03 Letters 931 R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 3 In Kommissarzhevskaia’s vocabulary, compassion, suflfering’s outward expression, was a likewise positive quality because it encourages personal development: Compassion undem'abhr moves fonvaid. because it must be perspicacious, it must look ahead and embrace the expanse— otherwise it would be called something else. It cannot stand, it must go forward in order to nourish itself and exist." f#87 Letters 83) In this letter the actress cited Dostoevsky’s Idiot, Prince Myshkin, as an example of rightful living, demonstrating the expiatory power of suffering and compassion, and throughout her letters the theme o f suffering manifests as sacrifice for art. Her confes sion, “When I am not tortured. I’m awfully unhappy. I really don’t like to be happy, though I don’t want this condition— it hinders everything,” (#187 Letters 140) was the admission of complicity in sacrifice as self-serving. In the end (or at least by 1908), it would seem that Kommissarzhevskaia’s years of encouraging protégé Khodotov to follow her model o f artistic attitude paid off. When the actor turned to dramaturgy in 1908, she applauded the opening of his first play. At the Crossroads, for its reflection of the beautiful and eternal:’ * C o c r p a g a H H e H e n p eM effflo f lB H ra e r a n e p e g , n o r o M y u r o o h o j j o j i x h o S b i x b n p o a o p ji H B o , a o jq k h o rjiH fle x b B n e p e g , oÔ H H M axb H e o & b a r o e - H H a n e o h o r i y g e r u a s b iB a r b C H K a K -H H ô y g b H H a n e . Ona n e MOJKCT CTOBTb, OHO gOJDKHO H gTH B U e p e g , HT0 6 b r nH T aT bC a H C y m eC T B O B a T b . R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 4 Dear Friend! I am happy that I was not cteceived by your souL which is filled with the aroma of that bright youth which sings in us .. The play touches us and excites us. and in the end enlivens by its faith in the “beautifiil and eternal.” You are already on the real path. Go further and higher! “Follow the free path where the firee spirit calls you!” Yoiu" V. Kommissarzhevskaia* (#266 Letters 174) Bernard Shaw once described his Joan of Arc (Saint Joan. 1923) as a “volcano of energy from first to last and never the sniveling Cinderella bom to be burnt that so many, .made her” (in Hill 1987:34). For Shaw, the appeal o f Joan o f Arc’s story was precisely because her actions defied traditional views of woman’s place; his elaboration of the saint’s life idealized woman’s capacity for supreme acts of determination and sacrifice in the social sphere. Shaw’s distinction of two divergent characterizations, the “volcano of energy” versus the “sniveling Cinderella,” emphasizes the complexity of reducing personality to a single type, and his apposition of peremptory to passive is reminiscent of the fem m e fatale and fem m e fragile dichotomy that still reverberated in the first decades of the century. Shaw’s dual model illustrates the pervasiveness of reductive conventional images of female personality types that the women’s movement could not eradicate, although, at least by Shaw’s era, advances made by Suffragettes and female socialists had begun to tip the scales in favor of the “volcano” and away from the “Cinderella” model. Yet the Russian model for women’s social activism had * jJoporoH apyr! H cqacrjnma, «rro ne ofiManyjiacb b Bauiefi gyiue, Koropaa ncjraa apoMaroM toh }K e cseTJioH lO H ocT H , K CTopaa noer a nac. Flbeca aarparHBaer, BOJiHyer. a a KOHue GoqpHT caoen aepoH a "npeKpacHoe— aeHHoe." Bbi yace ua HacroaiaeH gopore. MgHre gajibiue h abiuie. "Jfoporoto caofioR H O K ) h^h, Kyna aoaerxeGa caoôogHbiH qyx!" Bama B. KowMHccapxeacKaa R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 5 an older legacy as well as a different identity. Unlike Shaw’s irreconcilable images, the Russian female activist was the combination o f active and passive: militant a n d martyr. Her self-sacrificial fate—bom to be burnt’— was inherent to her calling and vital to her recognition as social reformer. This is the legacy that helped erect Kommissarzhevskaia as the standard and the standard-bearer o f her age, whose melodious, unforgettable husky voice summoned humankind to an under standing of the true beautv' in creative work, the search for the genuine trutfu and to the light of the truth. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 6 No t e s t o C h a p t e r VI 1. S. Auslender, “Tvorchestvo V J . Kommissarzhevskoi.” Apollon (n.6) 10 March 1910. 2. Postlewait (1989:266-7) suggests that, in autobiographies and similar texts o f self- writing, actresses used a “rhetoric of denial” (i.e., references to their “sexuality, their suspect morality, and their ambition or assertiveness”) in order to “put forward an acceptable version o f the actress as woman ...but also to hide or deny aspects o f self that the actress, as professional woman and private person, feels cannot be reported without negative consequences.” 3. Russian literary historian Catriona Kelly (1994:123) corroborates this view, suggesting that while nineteenth-century Russian women writers “made prominent contributions to gesture politics, but [their] effect on ideology and policy was slight.” 4. In this regard, we recall how Kommissarzhevskaia’s mother risked familial shunning by eloping with an opera singer, and when Fedor Petrovich abandoned her, she assumed culpability in the divorce for the good of their families. 5. Early in her stage career Kommissarzhevskaia recognized the significance o f her choice. She wrote to Turkin in May 1894: “Yes, the world is wide and theater’s not all there is to it.’ Remember the bits o f my life that you know and understand, that too long I was in darkness that stiffed and choked me, too long I flung myself in all directions, searching to forget and not finding it, since one can find it only in something that might say something to the soul. Finally, 1 found a goal, I found the possibility o f serving work that has encapsulated all of me, swallowed all of me, leaving room for nothing else” (#3 Letters 35V 6. The letter was probably written in 1901. Bravich’s excerpts built the depiction of Kommissarzhevskaia as “eternally doubting and eternally dissatisfied” (in Karpov 1911:140-151). 7. For example, pantheism is a theme in Viacheslav Ivanov’s poem “The Alpine Horn ” (1901), in which “Nature is a symbol sounding for an answer, and the answer is God” (Priroda— simvol... Ona zvuchit dlia otzvnka. I otzvnk~Bog). For the poet in Briusov’s “I” {la) (1899), pagan and Christian love are identical: "51 b o s h o c h ji MOJibôbi A c ra p T e h FeKaTe/KaK JK peu, cTOTejibincc acepTsaM n p o jiH B aji a Kposb/ H n o c jie noflxoflH Ji k n o flH o acH aM p a c n a T H ô / H cJiaaH Ji C H ab H y io , k b k cM e p T b , JIIoS O B b." R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 7 8. Kommissarzhevskaia reserved the title o f “Teacher” {U chitel') fo ra later, brief correspondence with friend and leading man, Aleksei Feona. Feona was transformed in her letters as her “dear Lyric” (M ilyi lirifc). 9. Victor Vasnetsov is one o f the few contemporary artists whose work Kommissarzhevskaia cites (directly or indirectly) in her letters, and she refers only to his work as an easel artist and not as set designer. Al’tshuller suggests that Kommissarzhevskaia’s use o f the pen name “Ganjaiun” (with which she closes many o f her letters to her Alexandrine Theater director Evtikhii Karpov) may have been .engendered by Vasnetsov’s 1899 painting of the same name (see notes to #75, “E.P Karpovu,” (16 April 1900^ Letters 356). 10. For accounts o f Blok’s involvement with Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater, see Verigina (1974), and Verigina et al. (1961). 11. Auslender attended the invitation-only “Saturdays” organized by the actress prior to the opening of her Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater in early fall 1906. His article on Kommissarzhevskaia appeared in the 1910 issue of Apollon which contained a series o f pieces dedicated to the actress. 12. " nponoBefli. Bepbi <ï> e3 opoBHi.i o hobmx nyTHX b Tearpa 6biJia rg h th h to rJiacoM Bonmoutero b nycTWHe." (“N.K.” 1925:4). 13. Kollontai’s essay, “Young People Called Her the Sun” (Molodezh ' zvala ee solntsem) first appeared in Sbomik 11931). It was reprinted in Letters 248-252:250. 14. Lunacharskii’s article, “Vera Fedorona Kommissarzhevskaia’s Artistic Genre” ( Artisticheskii zhanr Very Fedorovny Kommissarzhevskoi) was first published in Sbomik 1193 Hand reprinted in Letters 181-186. Lunacharski defined Kommissarzhevskaia’s acting style as “symbolic realism” (Letters 185). 15. Lunacharskii reviewed the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s first season for Ohrazovanie (Education). Lunacharskii eventually changed his attitude regarding Meierkhol’d’s aesthetic principles, and in 1920 he appointed the director head of the Theater Department in his division, the Commissariat for Popular Education. 16. Kommissarzhevskaia was a popular topic for study during the Soviet period. The titles of some o f these products alone belie the ideological orientation of their writers. See, for example: Al’tshtuUer (1960) “An Example of Inspired Service to the People,” and Alpers (1959) “The Actress of the Heroic Theater.” Markov (1950) and Nosova (1964) concentrate on Kommissarzhevskaia as revolutionary. Tangentially related to the present discussion is (Dubnova 1966). The feature film “I am an Actress” (Ja - Aktrisd) was a fictionalized account o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s revolutionary involvement (Ledypen 1982). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 8 17. In diary entries for 1898-1899, Sazonova-Stnimova mentions several occasions when Kommissarzhevskaia performed benefit concerts, readings, or performances for needy students, victims o f fire and famine. See Letters 299-314. In an article written twenty years after the actress’s death, Kollontai (Letters 284- 252) relates anecdotes detailing Kommissarzhevskaia’s financial involvement in “our party” (i.e.. Social Democrats) and summarizes that “we spoke the same language.” See also Kruglova, “She Helped Us”(Letters 252-253) and Serebrov, “Kommissarzhevskaia and Krasin” (Letters 253-255) for similar political readings o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s social significance. 18. See Chronicle 240, entry for 3 July 1903. 19. Having a rival company in St. Petersburg was a problem for the Moscow Art Theater’s tour repertory. Stanislavsky wrote to Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko in July, 1904: “All the plays [by lartsev and Chirikov] are performed in St. Petersburg at Kommissarzhevskaia’s, and we’ll have nothing to tour with...One other thing bothers me: Chekhov, Nemirovich, Gorky have given us their plays for Moscow and Petersburg. Why do the young writers whom our theater needs most o f all, like lartsev and Chirikov, give us plays only for Moscow? This is to our disadvantage and even impossible, because in this way we block our own road into Petersburg. To top it off Kommissarzhevskaia will steal (skradet) our staging. Our part will be very noble (Jblagorodnaia) but . stupid” (Stanislavsky SS 1960:Vn,298-303). 20. Apparently their theater plans were generally known, Stanislavsky wrote in a postcript to a letter written in early January 1905, “Write me your opinion about Kommissarzhevskaia’s theater, and what is being said about about Andreeva and Morozov’s future theater” (Stanislavsky SS-VII,577). See also Andreeva (1968). 21. Serebrov’s account (1955:103-104) depicts the actress leading the cry o f “Down with the Monarchy!” (Doloi samoderzhavie !) at political rallies. His romanticized account of her first meeting with Bolshevik Leonid Krasin is complete with a pledge of faith, only the medieval tale is reversed: according to Serebrov, the lady requested a token from her knight. 22. A. Blok, “Tri voprosa” in Shaikevich (1974:61). Blok was privately and professionally associated with Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater; his affair with Dramatic Theater actress Nataliia Volokhova gave rise to the poetic cycle, “Snow Mask.” Blok read the essay O drome, in which he hailed Ibsen as the “last great European dramatist,” in Kommissarzhevskaia’s Dramatic Theater in 1908. Blok was among the many critics outraged by Meierxol’d’s 1906 production of Hedda Gabier: “Ibsen was not understood, or at least not embodied, neither by the artist...the director...or the actors themselves ” (Chronicle 3381. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 0 9 23. Robbins quoted in Hirshfield et ai. (1981:25). See Chapter I, “Hedda is All o f Us,” for Edwardian actresses’ responses to Ibsen. 24. Hedda Gabier premiered 10 November 1906 as the Dramatic (Symbolist) Theater’s opening production. ‘T knew that for the sake of art she [Kommissarzhevskaia] was capable of great sacrifices, but here before me was true self-sacrifice,” write Yurii Beliaev in his review for New Time (29 November 1906) (In Chronicle 336). Meierkhold’s production o f A Doll’s House premiered at the Dramatic Theater 18 November 1906. See Rudnitskii (1978) for analyses o f these productions. 25. See Shaikevich (19^74:100-103). Shaikevich bases much o f his description o f Kommissarzhevskaia as “Nora” on Brushtein (1956, Chapter H: Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia). Kommissarzhevskaia’s letter to Dal skii (discussed on page 297 of this dissertation) also illustrates the actress’s stringent moral attitude. 26. Verigina (1974:84-85) provides an anecdote illustrating the finality o f Kommissarzhevskaia’s well-known phrase. Kommissarzhevskaia deliberated with her director-to-be, Vsevolod Meierkhol’d, and members o f the theater’s original administrative board about the theater’s new bearing. Nikolai Arbatov and Nikolai Krasin warned against Meierkhold’s aesthetic ideas: During his (Arbatovj and Krasov’s speech. Vera Fedorovna sat with her eyes downcast. Krasov expressed the hope that the discussion would finally decide everything, and Vera Fedorovna would not say. “I want it this way." Suddenly Kommissarzhevskaia stood up. straight as a string, and in her wonderful deep voice said. ~I want it this way.” 27. Engel (1983:165) explains that Zasulich became a “heroine” for women because of her “willingness to sacrifice her young life.” 28. Populist women accepted self-sacrifice by drawing on Christian iconography to validate their struggle. Vera Figner’s statement, “Jesus taught that self-sacrifice is the most supreme act o f which man is capable. It was the most authoritative source we knew,” articulates this connection. Quoted in Engel (1983:141). 29. In a letter from 1883, Ermolova thanked Imperial Theaters Director I. A. Vsevolozhskii for his help in having the play staged “for the women’s higher education courses” ( v p o l’ ztt zhenskikh kiirsov). See Ermolova (1955:413). 30. Russian authorities closed most higher education courses for women between 1886 and 1900. Women also faced difficulty in their attempts to gain authority in the revolutionary movement. For comprehensive background on the women’s movement in Russia, see Glickman (1984), Stites (1978). 31. Better known for her short stories than her dramas, from 1890-93 Nina Annenkova-Bemar was also an actress with the Alexandrine Theater. Kommissarzhevskaia’s copy of the play is located in GTM 116.47. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 0 32. During this time in their relationship Kommissarzhevskaia often signed herself in letters to Khodotov as “your Light” (Vash Svet). (She further advised him, “In Italian you must say mio Ittm e” 3 3. American journalists were stymied in their attempts to elicit from Kommissarzhevskaia during her 1908 U.S. tour “the latest” on the political situation in Russia. A New York Times headline ran: “Russia’s Foremost Actress Won’t Talk About the Situation at Home But is Most Communicative About Her Ideas on the Drama” (Sunday, 1 March 1908). In the article, Kommissarzhevskaia was quoted as saying: “There must be something more elevated [than Realism] on the stage, something higher and more artistic. In my work I strive for a combination o f Symbolism and Realism— for the underlying significance o f things.” 34. Barstow (1986:24) examined the relationship o f mystical revelation and power: Joan exemplified an aspect of mystical experience that is highly relevant to historical research about autonomous women: the receiving of insight not available through ordinary social channels . Through such a channel an otherwise disempowered woman might receive instructions previously unheard of by those of her age. gender, or class... Joanns message was unacceptable, ultimately, to the most powerful forces in her society, and she was confronted then with the final command that authoritarian power can make: sacrifice yowr vision for our version of the truth. 35. Heft 3BOHKHft H eaaô b iB aeM fcift rp y q H o ft r o j i o c 3B aJi riejioB eH ccT B O k n03H aH H K ) HCTHHOft K paCO Tbl B TBOpqeCTBy, K HCKaHHK) nOfiJIHHOft n p aB fib I, K C B ex y HCTUHbi. “N.K.” (1925:4). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 1 Vn. Conclusion I began this analysis o f Russian Silver Age public and private images of the self by conjecturing that private letters can be viewed as a type o f cultural “artefact” due to their referential nature: I wish to qualify this supposition further. Obviously the claim that any kind o f self-narrative can take the place of a “key symbol” is misleading, as it ignores the subjective basis for these texts. Yet several features make the present study unusual in this regard: 1) the culture under discussion (early twentieth century Russian artistic life) was absorbed by issues of self^definition and the relationship between artifice and reality, and imbedded these preoccupations in its commodities, and 2) the letters under discussion were written by a public figure, Vera Kommissarzhevskaia, whose profession (acting) and aesthetic system put her at the crux o f these concerns. (We have already seen how ideologically opposed contemporaries similarly defined Kommissarzhevskaia as the symbol for her epoch). One way to resolve this conflict in terminology might be to speak o f the potential inherent in Kommissarzhevskaia’s epistles to “refract” rather than reflect reality. For example, in her introduction to A History of Russian Women’s Writing. Kelly (1994:7) identifies the way in which the artfully created text functions as a prism that filters and reassembles aspects o f real life: “Rather than reflecting experience,” she writes, “literature.... refracts experience. ” As the written expression of subjective experience, the personal letter inherently contains this refrac tory’ potential to reshape perception through the artifice o f writing. For although it purports to communicate personal concerns, chronicling real life events, describing real R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 2 life people and emotional states, we see that what is produced in the text is mediated by artistic decisions which are, in turn, mediated through the cultural experiences and aspirations o f the writer. Indeed, even though my approach has been from the level o f text production, we can also apply Bakhtin’s (1984:176) distinction o f the “double focus” of correspondence discourse (which “aims” at meta-textual and linguistic elements) to the question of textual ‘refraction.’ Another way to resolve the oxymoron o f a subjective cultural artefact’ might be to apply Schechner’s (1985:51) definition o f history as “not what happened but what is encoded and transmitted.” Thus, we can talk about the way that Kommissarzhevskaia’s letters are cultural artefacts by their transmission of cultural (i.e., encoded’) informa tion; i.e., as extensions o f the self as a social construct. Throughout this dissertation 1 have argued for the multiplicity of self-representation in her personal letters as a reflection of the contradictory impulses of the period. In this chapter, I offer some final comments about the actress’s attitude toward the period’s dominating philosophical question—the relationship between art and life—and how her response defines her transitional status as well as her commodification. Vera Kommissarzhevskaia’s stature as a cultural signifier was achieved because whether as Symbolist eidolon, the epitome offem ininity, or New Woman, Kommissarzhevskaia maneuvered successfully within the conditions of her environment. The question of conscious complicity in the making o f her legend is not at issue here, since the actress’s mastery can best be gauged by the authority with which contemporar ies proclaimed her the emotional register or soul’ o f her era: R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 3 not its conscious reason or intellect, neither its free will... but its soul...winged, never content, but bright and full of extraordinary, exceptional stirrings o f life.... Her character was fundamentally emotional in contrast to principled and strong- willed natures, but by this factor alone she was already the typical representative of her generation, of her era...a time of ideological and artistic meandering, and impatient probing for new forms in life and arL (Gurevich 1911:172) Gurevich’s praise reminds us o f Kugel s assertion that Kommissarzhevskaia gained her audience, as it were, through the heart rather than the head (see Chapter I); later commentators isolated conflicting cultural representations in the actress’s personality and stage characterizations as validation of her symbolic connotation; [Konunissarzhevskaiaj incarnated the new image of contemporarv Woman who. like Nora, asserts her own individuality, proclaims her own “F and boldly enters the struggle for her own as yet not-ftilly understood rights. But she also expressed the cataclysmic epoch’s restless melancholy, the indeterminate striving forward...the desire to sound the unfathomable secrets of eternity and life." (Znosko-Borovskii 1929:266). I suggest that the key to Kommissarzhevskaia’s ability to transform herself according to the ideologies o f her time was that, as a public figure dependent on the market for her livelihood, she was, as it were, controlled by the need to commodify herself in accor dance with those ideologies (cf. Bourdieu’s (1992:18) “habitus” which “acts within [individuals] “as the organizing principle of their actions”). Yet, as I have suggested throughout this dissertation, Kommissarzhevskaia’s manipulation of her environment * Bepa 4>eAopoBHa KoMMHCcapxceBCKan — arc gyina CBoero BpeM CHH: He co3HaTeJibHbiif paayM H He paccyflOK ere. rafoKe KaK h He BOJUi....a gyma... KpuJiaraH, hh na mhf H e yflOBJierBopeHHasi. H O ftpKasi H nojiHan HeofrbiMaiiHoro Tpenera *H3HH....HaTypa ncHXOJiorHHecKaH no npeHMymecTBy, B npoTHBonoJioxHocTb nejiocrHo-HfleftHbtM H B O JieB biM HarypaM, ona yxce 3thm cawbiw siBJinercsi npeflcraBHTeJibHHueH CBoero noKOJieHHn, cBoero BpeweHH apeMJi ee 6buio speMeHH HgeüHbix h xy A o xcecT B eH H bD C 6jiyxAaHHH, HerepnenHBoro HamynbmanHH HOBbix ({lopM b xoohh h b H C x y c c T B o . **...BroioTnna b ce6e H OBbiii oGpaa coBpeweHHoA iKenmHHbi. KOTOpaa, xax Hopa, yrBepxAaer C B O K ) JiH H H ocTb, npoBoamauiaeT cBoe a h cweao Bcrynaer b 6opb6y 3a cboh. H e Bnojine BegoMbie npasa. Ho b nefr nanuia BbipaaceHHe h Bca GecnoKoAnaa rocxa KaTacTpo(])HaecKoA anoxH, Bce HeacHoe ycrpeMJieHHe BAaab .jRaacga npoHHKHyrb b Hepaaraganabie TaAHbi BcejieuHoA h acH3HH. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 4 was not the result o f a conscious application o f a style. Rather, this situation occurred because the actress’s personal beliefs dictated her actions, and the core o f these beliefs— the Neo-Romantic formula o f denying the self in service to Art— was interpreted in various ways to suit the various ‘meanderings’ (Gurevich) o f the times. Forget about everything with all the thoughts of your soul and mind. Give yourself up to art, serve it as you can, how you can, but entirely, with all yoirr being. Serve that which is pure, bright, distinct, demanding, and endless as much as you can. and yoirr life will be something worth speaking o f but serve it genuinelv. and 1 will do the same." (Letter to Karpov in Mordfson et al. (1956:502) (See also Chapter VI) The Symbolist poets and artists who “looked to her to realize their concepts in the theater” (Senelick 1980:475) or in poetic form, as I examined in Chapter IV, saw in this personal philosophy the replication of the life-creation tendency (zhiznetvorchestvo) which they consciously applied to their own lives. Conversely, the perceived earnestness with which she “acted her own life” (Pitoev in Alkonost) on stage caused Boborykin to delineate her uniqueness (for the historical moment) as an actress not from an acting school, but the school o f life’ (see Chapter El), and Kommissarzhevskaia’s ‘natural’ acting was cause for popularity among members of her conservative, middle-class and student audiences. Thus, her aesthetic views on the creative process was linked to her “commodification of the natural,” which was, essentially, the commodification of the self ^ As I suggest, Kommissarzhevskaia’s ‘natural’ on-stage technique helped to establish an identic relation between the real personage and her stage roles; moreover. * 3a6yflbTe o5o BceM , BceM H noMbicJiaMH, noMbicJiaMH ayuiH, roJioBW, orgaHrecb HCK ycccTBy, c j i y x H y r e ewy K a x yMeere, u c m yweer, h o Becb, aecb. rioaiyjKHTe eiuy uH C TO M y, cB exJiO M y, acH O M y, crporoMy h G e ax o H eu H O M y cxojibxo C M O JK ere, h B u m Gyqer uew n o M X H y rb cBOio 3K H 3H b, H O nocJiyxHTe no-HacToanreMy, aHTo x e cgenaio R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 5 as I have tried to show in excerpts from her letters, she similarly personified fictional models (either socially or artistically derived) for female behavior in her epistolary self representation. By commodifying the self Kommissarzhevskaia was able to blur the boundaries between art and life, not unlike the Symbolist poets’ preoccupation with life- creation, the “aesthetic for organization of behavior,” “for which life created by art, that is, life as a product o f the incarnation of the spirit, was “the living life” (Papemo 1992:2,23). Yet, Kommissarzhevskaia’s conceptualization o f the transformational power of art differed from that o f the Symbolists in one vital respect, as a brief analysis of their interpretations o f the Pygmalion myth will indicate. For the Symbolist period, the Pygmalion myth was one o f the most salient allegories depicting the transformational power of art and the Artist-Theurg. This mythic sculptor as it were anticipated their [Symbolist poets'| cherished theurgicai aspirations. To them he was the true artist who transcended the confines of mere art...when he transferred the metaphorical immortality o f his work of art to tlie living beloved model. (Masing-Delic 1994:51 ) The standard story line of the Pygmalion myth is simple: a sculptor breathes stone into life through his love for the perfect beauty of the statue he has created. According to Masing- Delic ( 1994), Symbolist poets interpreted the story as a cogent metaphor for love, Eros, and eternity; a substantiation of Viacheslav Ivanov’s claim that true Art would transform Realia into Realiora. The artist becomes the supreme Creator: Pygmalion loses nothing of himself in the process and is only confirmed in his ability to become god-like by erasing the borders between time (art) and reality (life). (Cf. Chapter IV o f this dissertation for analysis of Kommissarzhevskaia’s eidolonic re-creation in the verse o f Valerii Briusov; also R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 6 Senelick (1980)). In the Pygmalion legend, the Artist-Creator transforms inert material into life, overcoming Death and thus achieving immortality.^ Kommissarzhevskaia shared to a certain extent the symbolists’ Romantic elevation of the Artist: When I look on the need around me. the appalling need with a voice stilled because it has no strength to cry (and even that would be useless). I think on the life that we. the ^chosen ones.” lead or. rather, we who have chosen ourselves, and melancholy and sadness overwhelm me.* (To Karpov (M ay 1898) #49 Letters 64) and her insistence on following her “own artistic F’ (as many o f her letters and memoir accounts attest) identifies her among the former. As I have suggested throughout this dissertation, the actress represented herself in her letters (and in action) as ideologically committed to the Neo-Romantic ideal of serving Art as serving God; that is, a life model founded on the synthesis o f spirituality and practice. This ideology is reflected in the actress’s version of the Pygmalion myth, as introduced in Chapter II. “You are a great artist,” she wrote to in 1894 to Nikolai Roshchin-Insarov, but I repeat you will never be who you could be. with your talent... You are asleep to spiritual life, without which the artist in you will begin to die... What can save you? Only one thing— love for art... In a Parisian fine arts gallery there is a famous statue. It was the last work of art of a great artist who. like maiw people of genius, lived in a mansard that served him botli as a studio and sleeping quarters. When the statue was almost finished, the Parisian night turned to frost. The sculptor could not sleep for tlie cold and kept tliinking that tlie clay had not yet had time to dry and that the water in it would freeze and in one hour the statue would be ruined and the dream of his life would be destroyed. He got up and put his blanket around the statue. The next morning they * CMorpa Ha tqoKqy, Koropan BOKpyr wemi, Hyxqy BortmoutyK), THxyio, noTOMy h to xpunarb chji y nee Her, qa h rieanojieaHo, h BcnoMHHaeTCJiMHe xnaHb, KOTopyio Beqew Mti, "HaSpaHHbie," hjih Bepnee cawH ceGa HaGpaBioHe, H Tatoie rocKa h rpycTb oxBaTbtBaioT mchb... R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 7 found the sculptor dead, but the statue was unharmed. That’s how you must love your work." (#2 Letters 33) In the standard (Symbolist) and Kommissarzhevskaia’s versions, there is the image of the sculptor-artist as life-giver, providing for the life of his creation, and transformation o f inert material into immortal object through the artist’s act. But Kommissarzhevskaia’s story introduces an element different from the Symbolist rendition: creation demands sacrifice. In Chapter VI, I discussed how the popular image of aesthetic martyr was applied to Kommissarzhevskaia and how she, in turn, embodied this impetus in her written self construct. In Kommissarzhevskaia’s version o f the Pygmalion myth, the act o f creation is possible only through suffering and sacrifice. As she wrote in the same letter to Insarov-Roshchin, paraphrasing Goethe’s Faust, “only he is worthy o f life and freedom who struggles for them each day”: th a t’ s how you must love your work. “The ‘truth’ of the service of art prior to Kommissarzhevskaia was the stage is my life,’ but Vera Fedorovna destroyed this truth:’ ‘my life is art’ is the symbol of all her creative endeavors” (D’iakonov in Karpov 1911:299). Kommissarzhevskaia * ApTHcr Bbt 6ojibuioM, noBTopjiio, H O Bbi K H K on^a H e 5yaere reM, h c m m o p j i h 6bi SbiTb npH BauicM TanaHTe....Bbi lacnyjiH a j w jryxoBHOH 3 K H 3 H H , 6c3 KOTopoô Hauner yMHparb b Bac h apTHCT...HTo Morno 6bi cnacTH Bac? Ohho, TOJibKo O R H O — jnoôoBb k HCK yccTB... B napmKCKoii ranepee H3sm;Hbix H C K yccTB ecTb sHaM eHHTaH craTy». Ona 6buia nocnenHHM npoHSBeqeHMew BejiHKoro xyaoxHHKa, K O T O pblH , nO floSH O M H O P H M reHHaiIbHblM JU G A H M , 3 K H JI Ha HCpRaKe, C JlJO K H B IU eM ewy H MacrepCKGÜ H cnajibHeü. Korqa cTarya 6biiia c o b c c m nouTH roTOBa, HOHbio cjrejiajicx b lïapmKe wopos. CKyjibirrop ne Mor cnan. o t xojioqa h aywan o t o m , h t o rjiHHa ne ycnejia ee BbicoxHyrb, m t o Boqa b ee nopax laMepsHer h b o a h h nac crarya ôyqer HcnopneHa h paspyuiHTca Menra ero x h s h h . Torqa o h BCT3JI, aaiyraji craTyio c b o h m oaeanow. Ha oieayioiqee yrpo cKyjibirropa HauuiH w epT B biM , aaro craTya ôbuia neapeanMa. B o t kbk Haao jnoôHXb cBoe aeJio. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 8 blurring the boundaries between artful creation and personality by ‘playing herself in each role: Critics accused her that she a lw ^ seemed to perform herself. This was true, but not to the detriment of her art: she had such a rich nature that in each new role she played herself in a different way. (Serebrev 1955:97) Likewise, her stage training in voice and gesture entered into her vocabulary for written self-expression: “How much more I want to tell you,” she wrote to Nikandr Turkin in May, 1894, and how long-winded and vague all this tiuns out on paper, and how the thought that my scrawls will say nothing to your soul oppresses and paralyzes me. I want to tell you everything that nw voice and glance could say to you best and most clearly of all. but looking at this cold white paper and all the various patterns on it. you will remain indifferent.* (#3 Letters 34) Especially in her Realist roles, Kommissarzhevskaia and her heroines appeared before the public in their real manifestation, dressed in everyday contemporary dress. These were earthly beings witli very human, sometimes overly so. anxieties, desires, and passions.** (Alpers 1980:389) Despite her claim that “you can’t play a role well when you recognized yourself so much” {nel zia sygrat ' khorosho rol \ gde tak chasto sebia uznaesh ’ ),^ this separation between artistic construct and the individual self was either not apparent or ignored by * Khk M H o ro eute x o n y CKaaaxb Baw n xax na Qyware nee arc B b ix o flH T p a c r s t H y r o , h c h c h o . h xax m erer n p n aroM h napajmayer M bicnb, n r o am m o w Kapatcyjibt n n n e r o n e Gygyr roBopm b Bamen ayum. H H M eH H o xony roBopnTb B c e raxoe, n r o SoJibine h s t c n e e B c e r o Mornn 6bi cxaaarb BaM m o h r o j i o c H B a n w a , a rjinan na a r y 6ejiyio Gywary, na cHwnneA na neii B c e x c o p r o B h BnaoB cpHrypKH, Bbt o c r a n e r e c b paBHoayuiHbiM. *KoMMHCcapxreBCKan h ee repontm nonBJiariHCb nepeq nyGjiMKoA b cbocm peanbHOM oGnnube. oqerbte b npoaamecicHe coBpewenHbte nnarbn. 3 ro Gbuin aeMHbie cymecrBa c caMbiMu ‘lejioBeHecKHMH - HHoraa cjihiukom <iejioBe<iecKHM H - rpeBoraMH, crpeMJieinuiMH h crpacmMH. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 1 9 her audiences in order to concentrate her significance. In describing Kommissarzhevskaia-Magda*, Pitoev (in Alkonost 1911:92) conceded that “We recognized in this regally elegant and haughtily independent image of the grande- coquette’ the very same suffering, rebellious, exhausted Vera Fedorovna;” conversely, her creations “cried together with her (oni p laka li vmeste s nef)^* Kommissarzhevskaia reflected the tum-of-the-century interest in new forms-of. life expression in the merging of reality and artifice in her performances and self-writing, where public voices o f Symbolist eidolon, ^/nm e fragile, and militant martyr combined in the public imagination and in the narration o f her personal letters; her acting repertory and technique, with its eclectic mix of nineteenth-century melodrama, the new ‘natural’ acting, and Moderne stylization, reflected her significance as an actress o f the old and the new. This status was also reflected in her epistolary voices, in which the fem m e fragile barkened to a past generation’s models for female social behavior, while the visionary militant augured a future radically different from the present. Kommissarzhevskaia’s public and private images o f the self “represented her time” (Gurevich); a transitional figure, locked between the past and the future; ...a mysterious art... not space-pervading like the intellect but a memory and a prophesy. -William Butler Yeats "A People’ s Theatre ' In Hermann Sudermann's 1893 melodrama. Heimat (Maeda). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 0 N o te s t o C h a p t e r vn L Corbett (1992:131) suggests that commodification (i.e., packaging) was a way for theater establishments to create a market; an actress’s “public identity depends on her being delivered to her audiences as a commodity to whom each spectator ostensibly has an unmediated relationship” (Corbett 1992:14). She introduces the term “commodity of the self’ to indicate how actresses like Ellen Terry earned a reputation for their life like’ acting. (See also Note 8, below). 2. The Symbolist impulse towards divinity was expressed in the concept o f the New Person, the “perfect work o f art” (Masing-Delic 1994:64) merging art and life. It is likely that the ideas o f Solov’ev and Fedorov (filtered through Belii) influenced Kommissarzhevskaia’s plan to create a school “for the New Person:” “The Actual task of the actor in the new theater is almost infeasible: to portray the hero’s psychology with soul and flesh transfigured and with all the psycho-physiological spasms that accompany rebirth. One must be a new man oneself, not in word, but in deed... The actor must himself be a new m an.” (Andrei Belii, “Theater and Modem Drama” (1908) (in Senelick 1981:166-7). Unlike the theater schools created by Gordon Craig or Eleonore Duse, Kommissarzhevskaia’s plan for a school was, at best, a theoretical working-through o f Belii’s notion o f the New Man (Person). According to D’iakonov (in Karpov 1911: 335-41), her premise was that creating or training only Actors would not change theater, so individuals needed to be created who would be Artists “with the world of Beauty as reference for scenic creation; an enlightened, educated, sensitive individual as the new actor; taking up responsibility of life, and art.” She envisioned two sections: dramatic and musical-movement, to function dependently; the art of music, art of movement, no special opera classes, only arts that would allow “live touch” (zhivoe prikosnovenie). Courses would include Physical Development (gymnastics, play “according to the latest system”[?!]; voice training; breathing, diction, speech; vocal hygiene, movement; Dance “‘a la Duncan”; theory o f music, music study; Experimental Psychology; World literature and theater history. Art theory and aesthetics (Belii was to head this section); History o f painting and costume; New Drama, and others. The ambitious program was to be complemented by a likewise brilliant teaching staff: Bakst, Benois, Dobuzhinsky, Ivanov, Baltrushaitis, Blok, Belii, Briusov, Drizen, Volynskii, Merezhkovskii, Filosofov, among others. Belii (1990) relates that Kommissarzhevskaia entrusted her “infant” (the new school) to him. j . From a letter to Kazimir Bravich (October 1898) fSbomik 1931: 148). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 321 4. Whereas Kommissarzhevskaia was among the few Russian actresses o f her day to remove the artifice from acting technique, she shared this distinction with Ellen Terry and Eleonora Duse. Corbett (1992:13) delineates Terry as the epitome o f the ‘commodity o f the natural’ : The life of Ellen Teny is perhaps the best example of this phenomenon, for in the estimation of many, she played but one part— herself: and when not herself, she couldn’t play it.’ Terry’s acting-that-was-not-acting depended for its compelling effects not on the roles she played, but on the impression she gave that the roles did not matter, that the reality of acting lay not in outwardly reproducing the character written for her. but in allowing her audience to see past and through the character and play to the women within. Aleksei Suvorin described Duse’s acting during her first Russian tour (Spring 1891) in similar terms: “This unique artiste does not imitate these heroines but miraculously identifies with them. She brings them to life without effort or artifice. With extraordinary accuracy she penetrates the poetic essence o f every character she recreates.” Novoe vremia 13 March 1891 in Pontiero (1986:89). In his fictionalized biography o f Kommissarzhevskaia, Boborykin’s female protagonist, the Actress, expresses the tum-of-the-century woman’s internal debate over self-definition: “Who am I— the Russian Réjane, the Russian Ellen Terry, or even the Russian Duse? They’re not me, and I’m not them.” (Boborykin 1913:33). As much as Boborykin’s fictional heroine could define herself only by what she is not, Kommissarzhevskaia’s lyric-dramatic acting style led to her appellation as the Russian Duse. As a group^ Kommissarzhevskaia, Ellen Terry, and Eleonora Duse would have been among the class o f performers Alpers (1980:386) deemed “hostages o f life” (zalozhniki zhizni), successful only when they remain “true to themselves” on stage, for whom art “is close to human confession” (Ikh iskusstvo blizko k chelovecheskoi izpovedi). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 2 Se l e c t e d Bib l io g r a p h y S e l e c t e d R u s s ia n W o r k s R e l a t in g t o K o m m is s a r z h e v s k a ia The following list contains a selection o f biographical materials (published letters, interviews, memoirs) and scholarly articles on Kommissarzhevskaia’s life and work. Rybakova (1994) is the most complete reference for production reviews. Adrianov, S. “Pamiati Kommissarzhevskoi.” Vestnik Evropy 3 (1910): 430-436. Al’tshuller, A la. red. V F Komissarzhevskaia. Pis’ma aktrisv. vospominaniia o nei. Materialy. Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1964. Aleksandrov, la.A. Chaika russkoi stseny. Kazan’, 1914. Aleksandrovskaia, E. “U Komissarzhevskoi. Pamiatnye vstrechi.” Teatr 8 (1955): 187- 189. Alkonost. Pamiati Verv Fedorovny Kommissarzhevskoi. Sankt-Peterburg: Peredvizhnyi teatr, 1911. Alpers, B. Iskaniia novoi stsenv. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1985. . ’’Komissarzhevskaia.” Teatral’nye ocherki v dvux tomax. Vol. I. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1977. 385-404. . ‘"Komissarzhevskaia.” Teatr 11 (1964): 43-54. . “Aktrisageroicheskogo teatra.” Teatr II (1959): 86-88. Al’bom o V F Komissarzhevskoi. Prilozhenie k zhumalu Solntse Rossii. Petrograd, 1915. Al’tshuller, A. la. “Primer vdokhnovennogo sluzheniia narodu. ” Zvezda 2 (1960): 173- 177. . “V.F. Komissarzhevskaia i ee Dramaticheskii teatr v “Passazhe.” Russkaia khudozhestvennaia kul’tura kontsa XIX. nacchala XX veka 1895-1907. Vol. 1. Ed. A D Alekseev. Moscow: Nauka, 1968. 103-110. . red. V.F. Komissarzhevskaia. Pis’ma aktrisv. vospominaniia o nei Materialy. Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1964. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 3 Amfiteatrov, A. Znakomve muzy Parizh: Vozrozhdenie, 1928. Beliaev, Iu_D. V.F. Komissarzhevskaia. Kritichno-bicgrafichesldi etiud. Sankt- Peterburg: Trud, 1900. . V. F. Komissarzhevskaia. Kriticheskii etiud. Sankt-Peterburg: Trud, 1899. Belyi, Andrei. “Kommissarzhevskaia.” Mezhdu dvukh revoUutsii- Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1990. 344-350. Blok, A. “Dramaticheskii teatr V.F. Kommissarzhevskoi.” Pereval 2 (1906): 6164. . “Pamiati V F Kommissarzhevskoi.” Sobrannye sochinenii v vos'mi tomakh. T.5. Proza 1903-1917. Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1962. 417-420. . “Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia.” Sobrannve sochinenii v vos’mi tomakh. T.5 Proza 1903-1917. Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1962. 415-417. Bravich, K.V. “Iz pisem, dnevnikov i zametok K.V. Bravicha.” Maski 2 (1912): 5-8; Mask! 3 r 1912V 32-38. Brodskaia, G.Iu. “B la. Briusov-V.E. Meierkhol’d-V.F. Komissarzhevskaia.” Russkii teatr i dramaturgiia epokhi revoliutsii 1905-1907 godov. Leningrad; Len. Gos. Inst. Teatra, Muziki i Kinematographii, 1987. 96-130. Brushtein, A la. Stranitsy proshlogo. Moscow, 1956. Chulkov, G. Godv stranstvii. Moscow: Federatsiia, 1930. Dubnova, E.Ia. “Iz istorii Dramaticheskogo teatra V.F. Komissarzhevskoi (1906g.).” Pamiatniki kul'tury Novye otkrvtie 1980. Leningrad: Nauka, 1981. 183-209. .. “Novoe o V.F. Komissarzhevskoi.” Pamiatniki kuFtury N ow e otkrvtie 1978 Ezhegodnik 1978 Leningrad: Nauka, 1979. 168-173. . “Novoe o V.F. Komissarzhevskoi.” Pamiatniki kuLturv Novye otkrvtie. 1978 Ezhegodnik 1978. Leningrad: Nauka, 1979. 168-173. . Dramaticheskii teatr V.F. Komissarzhevskoi v “Passazhe” i revoliutsiia 1905 (1904-19061. Avtoreferat dissertatsii. 1966. Dymov, Osip “V.F. Komissarzhevskaia. K godovshchine so dnia smerti.” Obozrenie tèatrov 1316(1911): 11-14. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 324 D’iakonov, A.A_ (Stavrogin) Venok V F. Komissarzhevskoi- Besmeitie. Skazanie. Poslednii put’. Vospominaniia. Sankt-Peterburg: Ministerstvo putei soobshchenüa, 1913. “V.F. Komissarzhevskaia i simvolisty.” Teatr 4:2 (1940): 110-118. Evreinov, A. “Vera Fedorovna Kommissarzhevskaia i tolpa.” Apollon 6 (March 1910): 11-14. Gaideburov, PJ*. “Nasha Komissarzhevskaia.” Literatumoe nasledie. Moscow, 1977: 159-169. Gastroii V F. Komissarzhevskoi po Sibiri i Dat’nemu Vostoku. Irkutsk: tip. I P. Kazentsev, 1909. Gurevich, L. “Pamiati V.F. Komissarzhevskoi.” Rech’ 49 119101 lur’ev, lu. “God nazad.” Rampa i zhizn’ 32 (1910): 522-523. “K 100-letiiu so dnia rozhdeniia V F Komissarzhevskoi. Stat’i.” Teatr 11 (1964): 42-60. Kamenetskaia, R , E. Kentler. “Peterburg Komissarzhevskoi.” Teatr 11 (1972): 140- 144. Karpov, E.P. sostav. Sbomik pamiati V.F. Kommissarzhevskoi. St. Petersburg: Tip. Glav upr. udelov, 1911. . “Istorii pervogo predstavleniiia Chaiki na scene Aleksandrinskogo teatra 17 oktiabria 1896.” Rampa i zhizn’ 3 (1909): 252-254. Konchin, E. “Vsia miatezh i vsia - vesna. ” Sovetskaia kul’tura 29 (7 March 1968); 2. Kugel’, A. Teatral’nye portretv. Petrograd: Petrograd, 1923. Kukhta, E.A. “V.F. Komissarzhevskaia, ” Russkoe akterskoe iskusstvo XX veka. Vypusk 1 . St. Petersburg: RHI, 1992. 13-61. Kuzmin, M A. “Dramaticheskii teatr V.F. Kommissarzhevskoi sezon 1906-07 gg.” Vesv 5 (1907): 96-98. Lanetskaia-Tkach, E. “Gamaiun. O lichnosti aktrisy.” Teatral’naia zhizn’ 5 (March 1988): 6-8. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 5 Ledypen, S.L. la-aktrisa. V. F. Komissarzhevksaia: Kinostsenarii. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1982. Leont’evskii, Nikolai. “Reshenie velikoi aktrisy.” Ogonek 32 (I960): 17. Markov, P. Q teatre. Teatral’nve portretv. Volume 0 . Moscow, Iskusstvo, 1974. . Vera Fedorovna Komissarzhevskaia. Moscow, Iskusstvo, 1950. Mgebrov, A.A. Zhizn’ v teatre. Vol. I. Leningrad: Akademiia, 1929. Mordison, G.Z., E.K. Popova. “Pis’ma V.F. Komissarzhevskoi k E.P Karpovu.” Teatral’noe nasledstvo. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1956: 492-512. Nazarova, L.N. “Pis’ma V.F. Komissarzhevskoi.” Teatral’noe nasledstvo. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1956:513-516. “N.K.” “Pamiati V.F. Kommissarzhevskoi. (En memoir de Vera Kommissaijevskaja, par N.K.)” Teatr-Iskusstvo-Ekran (Paris) 1925 (Feb-March). Nosova, V V Komissarzhevskaia Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 1964. Novosel’skii, A. Pamiati Very Komissarzhevskoi. Moscow: Trud, 1910. Ozarovskii, 1.3. “V.F. Komissarzhevskaia za kulisami i na stsene. 1892-1902.” Apollon 6(1910): 24-28 “Pamiatnaia medal. ” ’ Sovetskaia kul’tura 17 Dec. 1964: 1. Papemyi, Z “Sud’ba aktrisy. Chekhov i Komissarzhevskaia.” Teatr 3 (1974); 73-80. Portugalova, M G “Chekhov i V.F. Komissarzhevskaia.” Russkie klassiki i teatr. Leningrad, 1947. 335-353. Pribytkova, Z A “Pamiatnye vecchera.” Muzvkal’naia zhizn’ 5 (March 1982); 6-8. Prokov’ ^v, VI. “Legenda o pervoi postanovke Chaiki . ” Teatr 11-12 (1946); 42-62. Rozanov, V V “V pamiati V.F. Kommissarzhevskoi. ” Sredi khudozhnikov. St. Petersburg, 1914. 322-327. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 6 Rudnitskîi, K. “V teatre na OfitserskoL” Vendrovskaia, L., A. Fevral’skii red. Tvorcheskoe nasledie V.E. Meierkchol’da. Moscow: VTO, 1978. 137-210. . O Komissarzhevskoi. Zabvtoe i novoe. Vospominaniia. Statl. Pis’ma. Moscow: VTO, 1965. .” Komissarzhevskaia v iubeleinykh izdaniiakh.” Novyi mir 4 (1964): 261. Rybakova, lu. P. V F Komissarzhevskaia. Letopis" zhizni i tvorchestva. St. Petersburg: R m , 1994. ■ Komissarzhevskaia. Leningrad: Iskussstvo, 1971. . "V F. Komissarzhevskaia - pis’ma N.A. Popovu 1902-1905.” Teatr 2 (1960): 134-140. Sbomik pamiati V F Komissarchevskoi Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1931. Serebrov, A. Vremia i liudi. Vospominaniia1895-1905. Moscow, 1955. Schneiderman, I. “V sporakh o Komissarzhevskoi.” Teatr 9 (1940): 121-136. Skarskaia, N.F., PJ*. Gaidevurov. Na stsene i v zhizni. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1959. Sobolev, lu. “Komissarzhevskaia v pis’makh k Chekhovu.” Sovetskii teatr 9-10 (1930): 45-47. “S.Spiro.” “U Komissarzhevskoi.” Russkoe slovo September 1909: 4. Steppun, Fedor. “V.F. Komissarzhevskaia i M.N. Ermolova” Russkaia mysl’ 34 (1913): 25-29. Svobodin, A. “Den’ Komissarzhevskoi vMoskve.” Teatr 3 (1965): 109. Tal’nikov, D.A. Komissarzhevskaia. Zhizn’ i tvorchestvo. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1939. . “Teatr V. F. Komissarzhevskoi.” Slovo 21 November 1906. Tamarin, N. ’’Pamiati Very Fedorovny Komissarzhevskoi.” Teatr i iskusstvo 1910: 155- 157. . “V.F. Kommissarzhevskaia o svoem teatre i ego novykh putiakh.” Slovo 20 February 1907; 2. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 7 Tiraspol’skaia, N. Iz proshlogo russkoi stseny Moscow:VTO, 1950. Turlda, N.V. Komissarzhevskaia v zhizni i na stsene. Saint Petersburg: Zlatotsvet, 1910. Vdovin, V.A. “ Neopubiikovannoe pis’mo V.F. Komissarzhevskoi.” Sovetskie arkhivy. 3 (1970): 116-119. “Vecher pamiati Komissarzhevskoi.” Teatr 6 (1960): 152-52. “Vera Fedorovna Komissarzhevskaia o svoem teatre i ego putiakh.” Obozrenie teatrov 9 February 1908: 5. Zabrezhnev, I I. V F Komissarzhevskaia: Vpechatleniia. St. Petersburg, 1898. Zakushniak, A.Ia. “V.F. Komissasrzhevskaia. Vospominaniia o teatre.” Vechera rasskaza. (1984): 13-17. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 8 Se l e c t e d B ib l io g r a p e iy : So u r c e s i n R u s s ia n Alekseev, A.D Russkaia khudozhestvennaia kuPtura kontsa XIX. nachaia XX veka. 4t. Moscow: Nauka, 1968-80. Andreeva, M.F. Mania Fedorovna Andreeva. Perepiska. Vospominaniia. Stat’i. Dokumenty. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1968. Annenkov, Yurii. Dnevnik moikh vstrech. Tsikl tragedii. Volumes I and U. New York: Interlanguage Literary Associates, 1966. Belyi, A. Vospominaniia o Bloke. Wilhelm Fink Verlag München, 1969. Belyj, A. Mezhdu dvukh revoliutsii. Leningrad: Izd. pisatelei, 1934. Benua, A. Moi vospominaniia. v 2-kh tomakh. Moscow: Nauka, 1980. Binevich, E. “Rasskaz v karikaturakh o V.E. Meierkhol’de, rezhessere Teatra V.F. Kommissarzhevskoi.” in L. Vendrovskaia, A. Fevral’skii, red. Tvorcheskoe nasledie V.E MeierkhoPda. Moscow: VTO, 1978. 211-235. . “Kto oblaskan slavoi.” 28 Ekran i stsena (12 July 1990) 1,8-9. Blok, A. Literatumoe nasledstvo Tom 92. Aleksandr Blok. Novye materialy i issledovaniia. Kn.2. Nauka: Moscow, 1981. . Sobrannye sochineniia v vos’mi tomakh. T.5. Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatury, 1962. Bowlt, John. Khudozhniki russkogo teatra. 1880-1930. Sobranie Nikity i Niny Lohanovykh Rostovskikh. Moscow, Iskusstvo, 1990. Briusov, V ia. Literaturvnoe nasledstvo.T. 98 Valerv Briusov i ego korrespondentv. Kniga I. Moscow: Nauka, 1991. . Sredi stikhov 1894-1924. Moscow: Sovetskii pisatel’, 1990. . Literatumyoe nasledstvo. T 85 Valery Briusov. Moscow: Nauka, 1976. — . Dalekie i blizkie. M: Skorpion, 1912. [Reprint: Letchworth, England: Bradda Books Ltd. Rarity Reprints No. 30, 1973. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 2 9 . Sobranie sochinenii. T .l. Stikhotvoreniia. Poemv 1892-1909: T.2. Stikhotvoreniia. I909-19I7. Moscow, Khudozhestvenaia literatura, 1973 . Dnevniki (1891-1920V Moscow, 1927. Brodskaia, G. “Briusov-Meierkhord-Kotnmissarzhevskaia.” A. Al’tshuller, red Russkii teatr i dramaturgii epokhi revoliutsii 1905-07 godov. Leningrad: LGITMiK, 1987. 96- 130. . “Briusov i teatr.” Valerii Briusov. Literatumoe nasledstvo 85. Moscow: Nauka, 1976. 170-172. Chekhov, A P Polnoe sobrannie sochinenii i pisem v tridtsati tomakh. Moscow, Nauka. Vol. VI, 1978; Vol. VH, 1979; Vol. Vm, 1980: Vol. XI, 1982, Vol. XH, 1983. Chulkov, G. red. Fakely. Al’manakh. S. Peterburg: 1906-1908. Chursina, L.K. “K problems ‘zhiznetvorchestva’ v literatumo-esteticheskikh iskaniiakh nachaia XX veka (Belyi i Prishvin) ” Russkaia literatura 4 (1988): 186-199. Davydova, N.V. Ocherki istorii russkogo teatral’no-dekoratsionnogo iskusstva Moscow: Nauka, 1974. Drizen, N.V. Sorok let teatra. Vospominaniia 1875-1915. Prague: Prometei, 1916. Ermolova. Mariia Nikolaevna Ermolova. Pis'ma. Iz literatumogo naslediia. Vospominaniia sovremennikov. Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1955. Evreinov, N.N. Istoriia russkogo teatra Rarity Reprint 16. Letchworth: England: Bradda, n.d. Teatral’nye novatsii. Petrograd, 1922. Gaideburov, P.P. Literatumoe nasledie. Vospominaniia. Stat’i. Rezhisserskie eksplikatsii. Vvstupleniia. Moscow: 1977. Ginzburg, Lidiia. O literatumom geroe. Leningrad: Sovetskii. pisatel’. 1979. Gnedich, P.P. Kniga zhizni. Vospominaniia 1855-1918. Leningrad: Priboi. 1929. Gorin-Goriainov, V.A. Moj teatral’nyi opyt. Leningrad. 1939. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 3 0 Ivanov, Viacheslav. Stikhotvoreniia. Poemy. Tragediia. kn.2. St. Petersburg: Akademicheskii proekt, 1995. . Borozdy i mezhi. (Intro, by JJ). West). Letchworth, England: Bradda Books, Ltd. Rarity Reprints No. 24, 1971. . Po zvezdam. St. Peterburg: “Ory,” 1909. Khodasevich, V.F. NekropoP. Vospominaniia. Paris: YMCA, 1976. Khodotov, N.N. Blizkoe-dalekoe. Moscow: Academia, 1932. Knipper-Chekhova, Ol’ga Leonardovna. Vospominaniia i stat’i. Perepiska s A P Chekhovym 11904^ Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1972. Korchagina-Aleksandrovskaia, E.P. Stranitsy zhizni. Vospominaniia 1889-1937. Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1939. Kreid, V. sostav. Vospominaniia o serebrianom veke. Moscow: Respublika, 1993. Kugel’, A. List’ia s dereva. Vospominaniia. Leningrad, 1926. Lotman, lu. M. Besedv o russkoi kul’ture. Byt i traditsii russkogo dvorianstva fXVIIl- nachalo XIX vekaV St. Petersburg: Iskusstvo, 1994. Lunacharskii, A. Teatr i revoliutsiia. Moscow, 1924. 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Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. ijj S e l e c t e d B ib l io g r a p h y : N o n - R u s s ia n S o u r c e s Abel, Elizabeth. Writing and Sexual PifFerence. Chicago: University o f Chicago Press, 1982. Auerbach, Nina. Private Theatricals. The Lives of the Victorians. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990. Bakhtin, M. “Discourse Typology in Prose.” Problems o f Dostoevsky's Poetics. Minneapolis, MN: Minneapolis University Press, 1984. Barstow, Anne Llewellyn. Joan o f Arc. Heretic. Mystic. Shaman. Studies in Women and Religion Volume 17. Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1986. Belii, Andrei. “Theater and Modem Drama.” Russian Dramatic Theory from Pushkin to the Symbolists, Ed. and trans. L Senelick. Austin, TX: University o f Texas, 1981: 149-170. Barthes, R. Mythologies. New York: Hill & Wang, 1972 Bashkirtseff, M The Journal o f Marie Bashkirtseff. Chicago: Rand McNally, 1890. . The Letters of Marie Bashkirtseff. New York: Cassell, 1891. 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Russia’s Women: Accommodation. Resistance. T ransformation. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. Cline, Cheryl. Women's Diaries. Journals, and Letters. An Annotated Bibliography, New York: Garland, 1989. Corbett, Mary Jean. Representing Femininity. Middle-Class Subjectivity in Victorian and Edwardian Women's Autobiographies. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992. Davis, Tracy C. Actresses as Working Women. Their Social Identity in Victorian Culture. New York: Routledge, 1991. .“A Feminist Methodology in Theater History. " Thomas Postlewait and Bruce McConachie, eds. Interpreting the Historical Past. Iowa City, lA; University o f Iowa Press, 1989. 50-81. .“Does the Theater make for Good? Actresses' Purity and Temptation in the Victorian Era.” Oueen's Ouarterlv 93:1 (Spring 1986): 33-49. Deak, Frantisek. Symbolist Theater The Formation of an Avant-Garde. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins, 1993. .“Meierkhol'd’s Staging o f Sister Beatrice,” The Drama Review 26.1 (1982): 41- 50. 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The New Woman and Her Sisters. Feminism and Theater 1850-1914. Ann Arbor: Michigan University Press, 1992. Gerould, Daniel C. “Valerii Briusov, Russian Symbolist” Performing Arts Journal m 3 (1979): 85-91. . “Sologub and the Theater.” Drama Review 21.4 (December 1977}: 79-99. Gibian, George and H.W. Tjalsma. Russian Modernism. Culture and the Avant Garde. 1900-1930 Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1976. Ginzburg, Lydia. On Psvchological Prose. Trans. J. Rosengrant. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Glazer, Bernice Glatzer. “Theatre as Church: The Vision o f the Mystical Anarchists.” Russian History 4 G 9771: 122-141. . Dmitri Sergeevich Merezhkkovskv and the Silver Age: The Development of a Revolutionary Mentality. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoflf, 1975. Glickman, Rose L. Russian Factorv Women: Workplace and Societv 1880-1914. Berkeley: University o f California Press, 1984. Golub, Spencer. The Recurrence o f Fate. Theater and Memorv in Twentieth-Centurv Russia. Studies in Theater History and Culture. Iowa City, lA: University of Iowa Press, 1994. . The Theater of Paradox and Transformation. Arm Arbor: UMl Research Press, 1984. Gottlieb, Nora and Raymond Chapman. Letters to an Actress. The Storv o f Ivan Turgenev and Marya Gavrilovna Savina. London: Allison & Busby, 1973. Greenblatt, Stephen, “Towards a Poetics of Culture.” The New Historicism. Ed. H. Aram Veeser. New York: Routledge, 1989. Heldt, Barbara. Terrible Perfection. Women and Russian Literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 3 6 Hill, Holly. Playing Joan. Actresses on the Challenge o f Shaw's Saint Joan. New York: Theater Communications Group, 1987. HoUedge, Julie. Innocent Flowers. Women in the Edwardian Theater. London: Virago, 1981. Iser, Wolfgang. The Act o f Reading. A Theory o f Aesthetic Response. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1978. 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The Aesthetic Utopia o f Russian Modernism. Eds. Irina Papemo and Joan D. Grossman. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1994. Mills, William Todd. The Familiar Letter as a Literary Genre in the Age o f Pushkin Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976. Morris, Marcia A. Saints and Revolutionaries. The Ascetic Hero in Russian Literature. New York: State University of New York, 1993. Ortner, Sherry B. and Harriet Whitehead, eds. Sexual Meanings: The Cultural Construction of Gender and Sexuality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 3 8 Papemo, Irina. “The Meaning o f Art: Symbolist Theories.” Papemo, Irene and Joan D. Grossman, eds. Creating Life. The Aesthetic Utopia o f Russian Modernism. Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1994:13-50. and Joan D.Grossman, eds. Creating Life. The Aesthetic Utopia o f Russian Modernism. 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Ed. Linda Edmondson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. 32-47. Russell, R. and A. Barratt, eds. Russian Theater in the Age o f Modernism. New York: St. Martin’s, 1990. Savler. Oliver M. Inside the Moscow Art Theater. New York: Brentano’s, 1925. Schuler, Catherine. Women in Russian Theater The Actress in the Silver Age. New York; Routledge, 1996. Segel, Harold B. Twentieth-Century Russian Drama From Gorkv to the Present. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1993. Senelick, L. ed. Wandering Stars. Russian Emigre Theatre. 1905-1940. Iowa City, lA: University of Iowa Press, 1992. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without perm ission. 3 3 9 . Russian Dramatic Theory from Pushkin to the Symbolists. Austin. TX; University of Texas Press, 198 L . “Vera Komissarzhevskaya: Actress as Symbolist Eidolon.” Theater Journal 32:4 (1980) 475-487. Showalter, Elaine. Sexual Anarchy: Gender and Culture at the Fin de Siècle. New York: Viking, 1990. 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Creator Myers, Karen Lisa (author)

Core Title Public myth and private self in the Russian Silver Age: The correspondence of Vera Kommissarzhevskaia (1864-1910)

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Literature

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Literature, Slavic and East European,OAI-PMH Harvest,Theater,women's studies

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c17-557413

Unique identifier UC11354416

Identifier 9955055.pdf (filename),usctheses-c17-557413 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier 9955055.pdf

Dmrecord 557413

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Myers, Karen Lisa

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

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