Imperial Dancer

by Coryne Hall

  ‘Dancer, aged 63, Is Duchess of Kent’s Aunt’, proclaimed the Daily Sketch the following morning. ‘Exactly 19 years ago I danced my last dance in what was then St Petersburg,’ Mathilde told the Sketch’s reporter with a sad smile. ‘Next day my palace was occupied by Soviet troops and I made what was probably a miraculous escape.’ She was performing once more, Mathilde continued, in gratitude to Colonel de Basil who had done so much ‘to keep the flame of the old Russian ballet alive’.41

  Andrei and Vova went off to the slightly less fashionable Waldorf Hotel, where rooms had been reserved. Meanwhile Mathilde was whisked off to the Savoy for a cocktail party to meet the press. Nearly every newspaper carried an interview, variously reporting her age as 63, 64 or 65. Speaking rapidly in French, Mathilde was careful to stress her links with the Imperial family and give the impression that she and Andrei had been married before the Revolution. It was a masterpiece of truth and fiction. ‘I was only fifteen when I made my debut on the Imperial stage,’ she told one reporter not very accurately. ‘At once I attracted the notice of the Russian royal family and the Tsar and Tsarina interested themselves in my career ever afterwards.’

  Mathilde claimed she was treated like a member of the Tsar’s family and that after she married Grand Duke Andrei they were always welcomed at court. She then spoke about their beautiful palace with green marble halls (although whether she was describing her own mansion or Andrei’s palace was not clear) and, of course, her fabulous jewels, among the most famous in Russia with the diamonds alone valued at over £50,000.42

  The journalists lapped it up, particularly stories about the looting of her palace and her escape from the Bolsheviks. ‘I suppose that as I had received so many favours from the Imperial family and stood so much for the old regime, I was hated,’ Mathilde explained to the Observer. Asked about her impression of English ballet, she replied that there were many English girls in her school and she considered them very talented, adding that she envisaged great prospects for the young dancer from the Vic-Wells Ballet, Margot Fonteyn.43

  Later that evening Mathilde, Andrei and Vova went to the Alhambra Theatre in Leicester Square to see the René Blum Ballets de Monte Carlo perform. Afterwards Arnold Haskell hosted a supper party at the Savoy.

  The following morning Mathilde was on stage at Covent Garden for a rehearsal with the orchestra. Then she went to try on her costume. This had been redesigned from memory by Ludmilla and was being made partly in Paris and partly in the London workshop of Mme Barbara Karinska. It consisted of a long traditional Russian sarafan (tunic) and a kokoshnik head-dress. When Mathilde arrived at Karinska’s workshop she was appalled to find that her costume was not even sewn together – and the performance was that very evening.

  Barbara Karinska, daughter of a wealthy Ukrainian textile merchant, fled to Paris in 1923. Possessed of quick wits and a talent for embroidery she began to undertake spasmodic commissions for the theatre. In 1931 Colonel de Basil asked her to make the costumes for the newly formed Ballets Russes de Monte Carlo. It was doubtless this connection that brought Mathilde to the door of Karinska, one of the foremost costumiers of the time. Early in 1936, leaving her daughter Irene to run the Paris atelier, Karinska moved to London. Always impeccably dressed in a Chanel suit, she would drape material round her clients, occasionally screaming to her staff in Russian or, with her mouth full of pins, exclaim, ‘Ach, Boje moi! Kak oojus.’ (‘Oh my God, how awful.’)44

  Although Karinska assured Mathilde that everything would be ready, during the afternoon Andrei went back to check on progress. Mathilde must have been lucky, as Karinska made costumes ‘in her own Russian time’ and it was well known that she was ‘late, always late’.45

  Her lateness was legendary. At one Covent Garden première before royalty ‘the nervous dancers waited in tights, make-up and headpieces’, and the desperate Colonel de Basil, who had considerably lengthened the interval, finally phoned the emergency services. ‘Minutes later, Karinska, her assistants and the costumes were delivered in ambulances, sirens blaring, to the stage door.’ Even then many dancers performed with their costumes pinned together, while Karinska and her assistants stood by to make running repairs.46

  The Royal Opera House was packed for Mathilde’s performance that evening, with all 3,000 tickets sold even though prices had been doubled. Andrei and Vova shared a box with Serge Lifar and Grand Duke Dimitri. Owing to court mourning for King George V no members of the royal family were present in the adjoining royal box but other notables included the Duchess of Westminster, Lord and Lady Anglesey and Lady Rose Paget.

  The programme began with two short pieces, Le Mariage d’Aurora, followed by Les Presages, in which Tatiana Riabouchinska danced. By now there was an air of expectancy in the theatre. Tamara Toumanova, fresh from her earlier appearance, took a prominent seat in the front row of the circle. A Don Cossack choir, who had performed in London during the afternoon, made their entrance still wearing national costumes. ‘Although the star of the evening did not perform until 11 o’clock, the excitement remained at its height.’47

  A traditional Russian divertissement had been arranged. Alexandra Danilova performed a ‘Danse Slav’, Lydia Sokolova a ‘Danse Russe’. Then came the most eagerly awaited item on the programme – Dance Boyard (traditional dance at the Imperial Theatres) – Mme Mathilde Kschessinska, Prima Ballerina of the Imperial Russian Ballet.48 As Mathilde stepped out on to the stage Grand Duke Dimitri seemed anxious and turned away, asking Lifar to tell him whether he could look at Mathilde or not.

  ‘With one infectious flick of her nimble ankles’, Mathilde had the audience at her feet as she began to dance slowly, gracefully, the tempo only increasing towards the end of the number. The dance was performed ‘with great vitality and humour’, reported The Times, ‘and, above all, with an authority of gesture that marked her out from all but one or two of the other dancers’. After the four-minute dance the audience cried out for more. With no sign of fatigue, Mathilde obliged with reportedly the first encore of the season. Afterwards she took curtain after curtain as the audience clapped and cheered for nearly ten minutes. Mathilde was almost hidden by bouquets, as banks of flowers were heaped on to the stage. As one reporter pointed out, Covent Garden market must have been kept very busy. ‘It must be many years since one dancer had such a stageful of bouquets,’ wrote the Evening News. After her triumph Mathilde was whisked off to a supper party.49

  The next day the newspapers were full of it. ‘Covent Garden saw a ballet record set up last night,’ reported the Daily Sketch. ‘A ballerina received no fewer than eighteen curtain calls. She is 63 years old. Not since pre-war days has there been a sense of such extravagant enthusiasm as marked the appearance of Kschessinska.’50 The same paper carried three pictures captioned ‘Duchess’s Aunt as Dancer’. Although some thought Kschessinska’s appearance was chiefly of historical interest they all agreed she carried her age lightly and had certainly been a great dancer in her time. Many years later Cyril Beaumont could still recall ‘the precision, the elegance, and the nobility of her dancing and her gestures, qualities almost unattainable to the same degree except by dancers familiar with Russian Imperial Court circles’.51

  Later Gordon Anthony photographed her in the Russian costume and Mathilde was asked how Covent Garden compared to the Maryinsky. ‘With the crowded house, the dresses, the excitement, the enthusiasm, it was very like it,’ she replied, going on to praise the understanding of ballet and enthusiasm of the audiences in England. Sometimes, Mathilde said, she had to force herself to remember that this was not a gala performance in Tsarist Russia.52

  Mathilde and Andrei remained in London for another week attending dinners, parties and meeting friends. Arnold Haskell presented her with a silver vodka service. The letters engraved on each glass formed the word ‘souvenir’ when they were lined up. Marie Rambert invited Mathilde to watch one of her classes and at tea with the ladies in the Forum Club Mathilde was welcomed as ‘the Queen of Russian Ball
et’.53

  A particular pleasure was lunch with Mathilde’s nephew Slava. The news of his father had not been good. In May Joseph said that he was going into the Karl Marx Hospital during the summer to have an operation, without an anaesthetic. He would be convalescing with friends in a dacha near the river. Although there were now no food shortages he still needed money to live on. His pension, which had not increased since pre-revolutionary days, was hardly enough to cover the rent and necessities such as firewood, electricity and water. He had been asking Mathilde and Julie for second-hand clothes. Despite all this he still refused the proffered financial help from Slava.54

  Before returning to Paris Mathilde gave the Vic-Wells Ballet their first lesson of a fortnight’s intensive training after their holiday. A newspaper photograph showed Mathilde demonstrating to the class, bending forward, hands stretched towards the floor, complete with elegant hat and double string of pearls.

  On 22 July they returned to Paris. Mathilde seemed surprised that anyone in London should remember her, as it was twenty-five years since she had last appeared. ‘But some people seem to have remembered and I was extraordinarily touched by the reception I got.’55

  It was Mathilde’s only performance after leaving Russia and her last appearance on the stage.

  Back in Paris Mathilde received so many requests for her photograph that Andrei was soon asking Slava to order ‘something cheaper, perhaps 4” x 5”’ from Gordon Anthony’s studio. Mathilde had enjoyed her stay and told Diana she hoped to return occasionally to teach.56

  All of Mathilde’s pupils of whatever nationality remembered her with great affection. ‘She was a wonderful person … and a great teacher,’ recalled Lady Rose McLaren.57 ‘If she could help one in any way, nothing was too much trouble,’ Beryl Morina said.58

  Beryl Morina had gone to Kschessinska from the Vic-Wells School when she was not quite thirteen. Mathilde looked after these very young girls, conscious that they were in a foreign country away from their families. One day she saw Beryl (who in her thick Russian accent she always called Baarl) eating an ice-cream in the street to cool down after class. Mathilde immediately telephoned Princess Mestchersky, where Beryl was living at the Grand Duke’s suggestion, to express concern.59 When Diana Gould collapsed from sheer physical and mental exhaustion Mathilde arrived on the doorstep and spoke kindly about the need to watch for stress and pace herself more wisely.

  Pupils found her inspiring. She had a strong personality, encouraged freedom of expression and never belittled anything. When something was done correctly she praised them in her deep voice (some have said ‘over-praised’) but would not tolerate tantrums. ‘Her arm movements were wonderful, very co-ordinated,’ said Beryl Morina. ‘She taught me an enormous amount,’ recalled another pupil.60

  Mathilde sat behind the pupils, facing the long mirrors, in order to see the girls from all sides. ‘She was still vivacious, captivating, full of life and allure,’ recalled Margot Fonteyn. ‘Her lessons were usually musical and bent on charming an imagined audience behind the wall of plate-glass mirror. She was really a delight.’61 ‘Montrez Kschessinska!’ (‘Show Kschessinska!’), she said with an extravagant flourish of her hand, inspiring them to greater things. Her classes usually contained about twelve pupils but Mathilde also gave intensive private lessons. Her old passion for real lace had not decreased and Beryl Morina’s mother sent Nottingham lace to Paris for her headbands. She taught with immense patience. ‘If, during a private lesson I failed to pick up an enchaînement [a pattern of steps] she would simply mark it through again without comment, so never to distress,’ Beryl recalled.62 Nevertheless, she is not thought by some to be such an important influence on Western ballet as Pavlova or Karsavina, who were better known.

  In June 1937 the Vic-Wells Ballet (later the Sadler’s Wells Ballet) performed in Paris and Mathilde invited about thirty of the company to her home as a thank you for sending so many pupils. Ninette de Valois, Frederick Ashton, Robert Helpmann and Harold Turner were among those who sat down to supper at small tables scattered around the lawn. Serge Lifar also joined the party. Some were former pupils – Margot Fonteyn, Pamela May and June Brae among others. June had been a favourite pupil and an admirer of Mathilde’s exuberant method of teaching. Fonteyn was another great admirer, although she admitted the difficulty in choosing between Kschessinska, Olga Preobrajenska and Lubov Egorova. The day after a party Mathilde always invited some of her students to Villa Molitor to help eat the left-over French pastries and other delicacies. She then told the girls that they would have to work twice as hard the next day!63

  Mathilde had tremendous joie de vivre and was never harsh. Kschessinska’s most marvellous quality said a former pupil, was that her presence electrified a room whenever she entered. Her energy and zest for life were contagious and the girls would do anything she wished. Unlike some of her contemporaries (for example Lydia Kyasht and Nadine Nicolaievna, who were jealous of Kschessinska) Mathilde was always generous when speaking about her peers. She was, said Beryl Morina, ‘a person of immense charm’.64

  During the early part of 1937 Andrei was confined to bed for several weeks with bronchitis. In summer they therefore had a week’s rest in the Pyrenees so that he could recover his strength.

  For the Russian Christmas in January 1938 Slava sent Mathilde a small table with a view of Strelna, which brought tears to her eyes. Mathilde found a few moments to write to Slava to thank him for the ‘astonishingly beautiful’ table he had made and which gave her so much pleasure.65 Yet the workload was so great that when Diana sent over another pupil Mathilde had to ask Andrei to write the letter of thanks.

  Despite the worrying political situation in Europe after the German invasion of Austria in March, Mathilde and Andrei passed through London in July bringing Slava some presents from Julie – a Paris shawl for Margot, and for Slava the cufflinks given to Ali on his name day by Grand Duke Sergei Michaelovich. Mathilde was distressed when Joseph asked her not to write any more, as it was becoming dangerous for him and his family66 but he still received letters, parcels and money from Julie. Presumably letters from Baroness Zeddeler were less dangerous than those from Princess Romanovsky-Krasinsky. He was busy writing the second volume of his memoirs for one of the museums, which wanted details about the organisation of the theatres and the various ballet masters during Imperial times. Joseph danced in a gala performance at the Assembly of Engineers, where even at the age of sixty-nine he still scored an ‘enormous success’.67

  By the time Mathilde and Andrei returned to Paris the situation in Europe was worrying. The threat of war loomed, France recalled its reservists and Paris was in darkness. The Munich Agreement between Britain, France, Germany and Italy (whereby Czechoslovakia had to surrender to Germany some border territory mainly inhabited by Germans) was signed on 28 September. Mathilde and Andrei spent a few weeks in Cauterets for the Grand Duke’s health but decided not to go further because of the uncertain situation. Vova had travelled south.

  Then a telephone call alerted them to a sudden deterioration in Cyril’s health. There were symptoms of gangrene in his leg and an operation might be necessary. Cyril’s secretary asked Andrei and Boris to come to St Briac immediately. His condition was so bad that they decided to move him to the American Hospital in Paris where, despite the doctors’ efforts, Cyril died peacefully on 12 October. He was buried beside Victoria in Coburg.

  Cyril’s role as self-proclaimed head of the Imperial House was now taken over by his only son, 21-year-old Vladimir, who did not take the title of ‘Emperor’.

  Mathilde continued to take an interest in former pupils and many of them sent her presents. Thanking Georgia Hiden for the gift of some Virginia ham, Mathilde said she had received a visit from Yvette Chauviré, currently dancing at the Monte Carlo Opera. ‘I would like to write to you more often, but I have so little time,’ Mathilde added.68

  With the number of pupils approaching 150 at the end of the school year in 1939 Mathilde and And
rei spent three weeks at Aix-les-Bains, going on to Lake Geneva. Mathilde had heard that Nijinsky was in a sanatorium at Kreuzlingen near the Swiss/German border. He had been declared incurably insane in 1919 and his memory was blank. Mathilde wanted to visit him, certain that he would remember his first stage partner, but the European situation was serious and they had to cut short their holiday. The visit to Nijinsky did not take place.

  On 23 August Germany and the Soviet Union signed a Non-Aggression Pact. In France the reservists and hotel workers were called up and people began to return to their homes. General mobilisation seemed imminent. On 25 August Mathilde and Andrei boarded an overcrowded train and returned hurriedly to Paris. The situation there was alarming. Defence measures were in force. At night there were blackouts. Air-raid sirens were tested, gas masks distributed and instructions were given on the procedure in case of air raids. As people were advised to leave Paris, the buses almost came to a standstill and the Metro rarely ran.

  On 1 September Hitler invaded Poland. Two days later France and Britain were again at war with Germany.

  Sixteen

  STRUGGLE FOR SURVIVAL

  ‘We had a nice vacation time but only the end was troubled by the last sad events,’ Andrei wrote to a friend in England. ‘We came back to Paris and maybe will move to some place out of town if events force us to do so. Nobody may say what will happen next but we keep hopeful.’1

  With the outbreak of war in 1939 all their plans changed and they were advised to leave Paris as soon as possible. With two other families they rented a villa at 14 avenue des Pages, Le Vésinet, 11 miles from the capital. Hiring two taxis, they piled on everything they could, including the dogs, cats and the pet canary. As they left Paris early the following morning the air-raid sirens were already wailing and when they arrived at Le Vésinet they were forced to spend three hours in the air-raid shelter. Although this time it was a false alarm they soon became used to these occurrences.