The International Weekly Miscellany, Volume I. No. 8 | Page 2

dramatic art. The stage,
in the empire of the Muscovites, is like a rose-bush grafted on a wild
forest tree. It has not grown up naturally from a poetic want in the
people, and finds in the country little or nothing in the way of a poetic
basis. Accordingly, the theater in Russia is in every respect a foreign
institution. Not national in its origin, it has not struck its roots into the
heart of the people. Only here and there a feeble germ of theatrical
literature has made its way through the obstinate barbarism of the
Russian nature. The mass have no feeling for dramatic poetry, while the
cultivated classes exhibit a most striking want of taste.
But in Russia everything is inverted. What in other nations is the final
result of a long life, is there the beginning. A natural development of
the people appears to its rulers too circuitous, and in fact would in
many things require centuries of preparation. Accordingly, they seek to
raise their subjects to the level of other races by forcing them outwardly
to imitate their usages. Peter the Great says in his testament: "Let there
be no intermission in teaching the Russian people European forms and

customs." The theater in Russia is one of these forms, and from this it is
easy to understand the condition it is in.
It is true there are in the country a few independent companies of
players, but they are not Russian, or at least were formed as a
speculation by some foreigner. For example, Odessa has often two such,
and sometimes three. The Italian company is said to be good. The
Russian, which has now become permanent, has hitherto been under
the management of a German, and has been very poor. The company in
Kiew consists mostly of Poles, from the old Polish provinces
incorporated with Russia, and has a high reputation. In Poland it would
be possible in every little nest of a city to get together a tolerable
company for dramatic performance. In Russia it would be much easier
to raise an army. The ultimate reason of this striking contrast is the
immense dissimilarity in the character of the two nations. The Pole is
remarkably sanguine, fiery, enthusiastic, full of ideality and inspiration;
the Russian is through and through material, a lover of coarse physical
pleasures, full of ability to fight and cut capers, but not endowed with a
capacity quickly to receive impressions and mentally elaborate them.
In this respect, the mass and the aristocracy, the serfs and their masters,
are as alike as twins. The noble is quite as coarse as the peasant. In
Poland this is quite otherwise. The peasant may be called a rough
creature, but the noble is almost always a man of refinement, lacking
indeed almost always in scientific information, but never in the culture
of a man of the world. The reason of this is, that his active, impetuous
soul finds constant occasion for maintaining familiarity with the world
around him, and really needs to keep up a good understanding with it.
The Russians know no such want.
Even in St. Petersburg the German was long much more successful
than the native theater, though the number of Russians there is
seventeen times larger than that of the Germans. The Russians who
there visit the theater are the richest and most prominent members of
the aristocracy. They however consider the drama as simply a thing of
fashion. Hence results the curious fact that it is thought a matter of
good taste to be present at the beginning but not to wait for the end of a
piece. It has happened that long before the performance was over the
house was perfectly empty, everyone following the fashion, in order
not to seem deficient in public manners. If there is ever a great

attraction at the theater, it is not the play, but some splendid show. The
Russian lady, in studying the coiffure or the trailing-robe of an actress,
forgets entirely her part in this piece, if indeed she has ever had an
adequate conception of it. For this reason, at St. Petersburg and
Moscow the ballet is esteemed infinitely higher than the best drama;
and if the management should have the command of the Emperor to
engage rope-dancers and athletes, circus-riders and men-apes, the
majority of Russians would be of opinion that the theater had gained
the last point of perfection. This was the case in Warsaw several years
ago, when the circus company of Tourniare was there. The theaters
gave their best and most popular pieces, in order to guard against too
great a diminution of their receipts. The Poles patriotically gave the
preference for the drama, but the Russians were steady adorers of
Madame Tourniare and her horse.