Pushkin. T. Binyon J.
disagreeable to me and I froze and walked along annoyed both with myself and with Kernâs insistence,â Anna wrote.24 Kernâs intelligence sources were at fault, for Anna and the emperor never met.
Enchanted by Krylovâs recital, she noticed no one else. But Pushkin soon forced himself on her attention:
During a further game to my part fell the role of Cleopatra and, as I was holding a basket of flowers, Pushkin, together with my cousin Aleksandr Poltoratsky, came up to me, looked at the basket, and, pointing at my cousin, said: âAnd this gentleman will no doubt play the asp?â I found that insolent, did not answer and moved away [â¦] At supper Pushkin seated himself behind me, with my cousin, and attempted to gain my attention with flattering exclamations, such as, for example, âCan one be allowed to be so pretty!â There then began a jocular conversation between them on the subject of who was a sinner and who not, who would go to hell and who to heaven. Pushkin said to my cousin: âIn any case, there will be a lot of pretty women in hell, one will be able to play charades. Ask Mme Kern whether she would like to go to hell.â I answered very seriously and somewhat drily that I did not wish to go to hell. âWell, what do you think now, Pushkin?â asked my cousin. âI have changed my mind,â the poet replied. âI do not want to go to hell, even though there will be pretty women there â¦â25
Eugene has enjoyed his dinner with Kaverin â
⦠the cork hit the ceiling,
A stream of the comet yearâs wine spurted out,
Before him is bloody roast-beef
And truffles â the luxury of our young years,
The finest flower of French cuisine,
And Strasbourgâs imperishable pie
Between a live Limburg cheese
And a golden pineapple â
(I, xvi)
but it is now half past six, and he hurries to the Bolshoy Theatre, where the performance of a new ballet is beginning.
When Pushkin came to St Petersburg in 1817 the capitalâs chief theatre was the Maly (or Kazassi Theatre), a wooden building situated on the south side of the Nevsky near the Anichkov Bridge, in what is now Ostrovsky Square, approximately where the Aleksandrinsky Theatre (designed by Rossi, and built in 1832) stands. On 3 February 1818, however, the Bolshoy (or Kamenny) Theatre, burnt down in 1811, was reopened in Teatralnaya Square in Kolomna, on the site of the present Conservatoire. There was also the German (or Novy) Theatre on Dvortsovaya Square, where a troupe of German actors performed, which existed until the early 1820s. When the Maly Theatre was pulled down at the end of the 1820s, its actors moved for some time to the building of the former circus, near Simeonovsky Bridge on the Fontanka, but this was closed when the Aleksandrinsky Theatre and, a year later, the Mikhailovsky Theatre on Mikhailovskaya Square were opened. In 1827 the wooden Kamennoostrovsky Theatre was built on Kamenny Island, a popular resort for the nobility in the summer months. There was also a theatre, seating four hundred, in the Winter Palace, built by Quarenghi between 1783 and 1787, where performances were given for the royal family and the court, while a number of the richer nobles had small, domestic theatres in their palaces.
The Bolshoy Theatre was huge. Behind the immense colonnade of its portico was a double ramp, enabling carriages to be driven up to the theatre entrance. Immediately inside were a succession of foyers: these, however, were only used when a ball was held at the theatre; they remained empty during the intervals, the audience preferring to circulate in the theatre itself. This consisted of a parterre, above which rose five tiers of boxes and galleries. The vast stage could accommodate several hundred performers at once, and was equipped with the most modern machinery for the production of spectacular effects, which were particularly appreciated by the audience. Performances took place every evening, with the exception of Saturday,* each performance usually comprising two works: a ballet and a comedy, for example, or an opera and a tragedy.
âBeneath the shade of the coulisses/My youthful days were spent,â Pushkin writes in Eugene Onegin (I, xviii). Only unforeseen circumstances could keep him away. When, at the end of October 1819, he arrived late for a performance of the âmagical balletâ Hen-Zi and Tao staged by the French ballet master Charles Didelot, it was with the excuse that an exciting event in Tsarskoe Selo had delayed his return. A bear had broken its chain and escaped into the palace gardens where it could have attacked the emperor, had he chanced to be passing. He ended the anecdote with the regretful quip: âWhen a good fellow does turn up, heâs only a bear!â26
In August 1817, during an interval at the Bolshoy, Pushkin was introduced to Pavel Katenin, an officer in the Preobrazhensky Life Guards. Kateninâs regiment left for Moscow shortly afterwards, but when he returned the following summer, Pushkin came to see him: âI have come to you as Diogenes came to Antisthenes,â he said. âBeat me, but teach me.â27 âRound-faced, with full, red cheeks, like a toy cherub from a Palm Sunday fairâ,28 Katenin was a poet, playwright, critic and literary theorist, closer in his views to the Archaic school than that of Karamzin; influential in the theatre, his chief service was to introduce Pushkin into theatrical circles. In early December 1818 he took him to see Prince Shakhovskoy, who lived with his mistress, the comic actress Ekaterina Ezhova, on the upper floor â known as âthe garretâ â of a house in Srednyaya Podyacheskaya Street. Extraordinarily ugly â he was immensely stout, with a huge, beak-like nose â Shakhovskoy was not only a playwright, but also the repertoire director of the St Petersburg theatres, instructing the performers in acting and declamation. His methods, however, were not to the taste of all. âHis comic pronunciation with its lisp, his squeaky voice, his sobs, his recitatives, his wails, were all intolerable,â one actress commented. âAt the same time he showed one at which line one had to put oneâs weight on oneâs right foot, with oneâs left in the rear, and when one should sway on to oneâs left, stretching out the right, which to his mind had a majestic effect. One line had to be said in a whisper, and, after a âpauseâ, making an âindicationâ with both hands in the direction of the actor facing one, the last line of the monologue had to be cried out in a rapid gabble.â29 He was, however, extremely charming, and Pushkin, walking back with Katenin after the first meeting, exclaimed: âDo you know that at bottom heâs a very good fellow?â, and expressed the hope that he did not know of âthose schoolboyâs scribblingsâ: an epigram on him Pushkin had written at the Lycée.30
Shakhovskoy entertained most evenings after the theatre, and Pushkin became a constant visitor to these Bohemian revels, remembering one occasion as âone of the best evenings of my lifeâ.31 Vasily Pushkin was saddened when he heard of the visits; he remained true to the hostile view of Shakhovskoy taken by Arzamas. âShakhovskoy is still in Moscow,â he wrote to Vyazemsky in April 1819. âHe told me that my nephew visited him practically every day. I said nothing, but only sighed quietly.â32 The main attraction of the garret lay perhaps not so much in the personality of the host, as in the presence of young actresses, in whose careers Shakhovskoy took a paternal interest, assisting them not only by instruction in elocution, but also by bringing them together with rich young officers. âHe is really a good chap, a tolerable author and an excellent pander,â Pushkin commented to Vyazemsky.33 In 1825 the playwright Griboedov,