Imperial Dancer

by Coryne Hall

  but after she admitted that she is religious. … The doctor saw her yesterday. Everything is quite well but the sclerosis is, if you like, progressively killing her. Especially the head. She forgets very often, sometimes she is very down and says it is the end but at the same time is quite well and she foresees the future with hope. … Sometimes she realises she is not the same as she was (I mean the head) and that makes her suffer.44

  After the funeral Mathilde suffered a breakdown, becoming feeble and tired. The doctors prescribed tranquillisers so that she would sleep. They wanted to avoid any more shocks. Meanwhile, Vova worried about how to pay for his aunt’s funeral. Friends again helped but the expense had made a large hole in their budget. Although he never gave up, the struggle was wearing Vova out. ‘He needs rest, he is so tired,’ Mathilde frequently told Rothschild.45

  Mathilde was now ninety-six. ‘My sister’s death has caused me very great sorrow,’ she told Georgia Hiden in February. ‘More than fifty years we lived together and I loved her a lot. I am not able to adjust to the idea that she is no longer near me.’46

  With her usual fortitude Mathilde recovered from the shock and in April was looking forward to the warm weather so that she could go into the garden.

  By August Vova was able to report that his mother’s health was splendid.

  Mathilde seemed indestructible. The doctor came regularly, she was cheered by letters and gifts and had the unconditional love of her son. In early 1970 Vova went into hospital for an operation, after which he was only able to walk with a stick. ‘As for my dear Mama, it is always the same thing,’ he told Rothschild. ‘Her general state is very good but sometimes she does not realise what has happened and forgets, but sometimes she is entirely normal.’47 Mathilde was able to go outside that summer and in August Vova took his annual holiday, during which time Mathilde was always ‘nervous and anxious’.48

  As winter approached the main worry was heating the house. The heating was in a very bad state, the price of coal was simply beyond their means and Mathilde was often in tears from the cold and damp. Margot Fonteyn heard of their plight and sent £1,500 to fix the heating. She also wrote to Commander Paul-Louis Weiller, a much-decorated hero of the First World War and member of the Academy of Fine Arts, who was dedicating his own declining years to artistic and literary patronage. A fervent balletomane and a friend of Serge Lifar, he had amassed a large collection of documents and photographs relating to Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. Commander Weiller immediately sent Mathilde £600. In November Mathilde was upset by the unexpected death of her former partner and old friend Pierre Vladimiroff but Vova complained, ‘why was it not mentioned [in the obituary] that he danced in Russia with Mama?’49

  Mathilde continued to receive visitors from Russia. In 1964 the principal artists of the Ballet de Kiev came, and in 1969 she was visited by Ekaterina Maximova and Vladimir Vasiliev of the Bolshoi Ballet, who told her what was happening in Russia and said her name was still remembered.

  In 1970 Serge Lifar brought Natalia Makarova to Villa Molitor. Makarova had graduated from the Leningrad Ballet School (now the Vaganova Institute) in 1959, becoming one of the leading artists of the Kirov Ballet – the old Imperial Ballet. While the company was on tour in London in the autumn of 1970 she defected to the West.

  Madame Makarova recalled her visit to Kschessinska’s house and Mathilde’s former reputation as a ‘wicked woman’.

  She was already quite old, around ninety [she was ninety-eight that year] and still beautiful. Serge Lifar introduced me to her and brought me to her home for dinner. It is a custom you know with dinner that we drink a lot of vodka. There were many zakuskee on the table. I was talking to Serge Lifar who sat on my right and Matilda Felixovna was just to the left of me. As I was talking to Lifar, I turned to my left to drink my vodka since there was a toast, but my glass was empty. So I thought to myself, I don’t remember, perhaps I drank it already. Our glasses were refilled. Our conversation continued. We raised our glasses for another toast, but mine was empty again. Afterwards I realised it was Matilda Felixovna quietly drinking my vodka as well as her own. She was tipsy in the end but with a gleam in her eye and still a bit ‘wicked’ I think.50

  In 1971 it was suggested that something should be done to mark Kschessinska’s 99th birthday in September. Diana Menuhin, Margaret Rawlings and Zelia Raye immediately wrote to the Dancing Times. Under the heading ‘Kschessinska Tribute’ the Dancing Times published the suggestion that ‘friends and well-wishers will want to celebrate this rather special birthday with a gift to provide her with comforts, as her health becomes frailer’.51 Eric Johns wrote a similar appeal for The Stage, and Clement Crisp agreed to do a feature for the Financial Times to coincide with Kschessinska’s birthday. Tamara Karsavina was among the many who contributed gifts of money, in gratitude for the help Mathilde had given early in her career.

  By this time Mathilde was very weak and according to the housekeeper’s daughter no longer left her room. When the film Nicholas and Alexandra had its première Mathilde was invited to the first-night party but was too frail to attend.52

  On 1 September Mathilde celebrated her 99th birthday. ‘She understood that it was her birthday and reacted when she was congratulated,’ Vova reported. ‘There were in all four people. But in general, she is giving up.’53 Doctors and nurses were now coming in several times a day. Everything in France was more expensive and Mathilde required more and more medical treatment. Meanwhile their income remained the same. Margot Fonteyn had sent £180, Diana Menuhin sent £70 and in October a welcome payment of £385 arrived from the Dancing Times ‘Birthday Fund’. Yet at least Mathilde did not suffer the fate of Olga Preobrajenska, whose belongings were sold (without her agreement or even consultation) during her lifetime.

  Vova was slowly recovering from an accident to his foot but the infirmity prevented him from working. ‘What about my dear Mama. Alas, it is so sad and harrowing to see – her head gives up more and more,’ he lamented to Rothschild. ‘She recognises me, but not her close friends. She says only a few words. Nearly all the time she sleeps. But her heart is very good and she eats well.’54

  In the early days of December 1971 Mathilde went into a coma and it was obvious that the end was near. One of the last visitors was Serge Lifar.

  On 5 December Diana Menuhin and Mstislav Rostropovich called at Villa Molitor. Diana had brought money from the Dancing Times Fund, plus some money of her own. Vova told her that he expected his mother to die within the next twenty-four hours. Then he would be left with nothing.

  Around 2.30 in the morning of 6 December 1971 Mathilde’s heart failed. Later that day Vova sat down and wrote a sad note to Howard Rothschild. ‘My mother died during the night without suffering. I am overwhelmed with sadness.’55

  Tributes poured in. ‘And so, at the age of nearly 100 the fabled Mathilde Kschessinska has died at last,’ wrote Richard Buckle in the Sunday Telegraph. ‘A dancer of virtuosity, brio and charm … she captivated at the end of the last century not only the balletomanes of St Petersburg but Nicholas II himself.’56

  Her dancing, said the New York Times, was allegedly ‘as hard and brilliant as the diamonds around her neck’.57 Many newspapers wrote about her achievements in being the first Russian ballerina to master the Italian technique.

  Yet it was not just her dancing that captivated the world. When the palaces, diamonds and the Imperial Ballet itself had disappeared Mathilde did not give up. When the chips were down, having lost everything, she played her trump card and married a Grand Duke. When financial disaster threatened she opened a successful ballet school. ‘Her gaiety and incredible willpower helped her endure many afflictions and she worked until it became physically impossible,’ wrote the Dancing Times.58

  She never complained, never dwelt on what might have been. Life was for enjoying – and Mathilde enjoyed it to the full. Above all, she was a born survivor.

  Mathilde wrote her own obituary. In a letter to Felia Doubrovska in 19
49, she said simply: ‘My life was beautiful.’59

  Mathilde’s funeral took place at the Russian Church at 12.30 p.m. on 10 December. Masses of people filled the church. Serge Lifar was a pall-bearer and among the flowers which submerged the coffin was a wreath from Paul-Louis Weiller. Vova was supported by his cousin. ‘Grand Duke and Grand Duchess Vladimir were by my side the whole time,’ he told Howard Rothschild a few days later.60 After the service Mathilde’s coffin was placed beside Andrei’s in the crypt. Vova was now alone.

  Mathilde Kschessinska, Prima Ballerina assoluta of the Imperial Ballet, had taken her final curtain.

  Postscript

  Vova had made no attempt over the years to prepare for his mother’s death, either mentally or financially. ‘Certainly life was leaving her progressively and her strength was visibly giving up,’ he told Georgia Hiden. ‘Nevetheless, there was nothing to suggest such a close end.’1 As he said, on her death the estate would be liquidated and he would have nothing. In truth, although loyal and devoted to his parents Vova was spoilt and not really equipped for life in the real world. His cousin, with whom he maintained sporadic contact, described him as ‘a lost soul’.2 Financially he was absolutely hopeless.

  Nevertheless, Mathilde’s funeral had to be paid for – about £508 for the undertakers, £80 for services at the house and the Russian Church, and £12 for the announcement in a Russian newspaper. A total of £600. Vova also wanted to buy a plot in the Russian cemetery at Ste Geneviève-des-Bois, build a modest monument and transfer his parents’ coffins there.

  All this was beyond poor Vova, whose salary was minimal after a series of accidents to his hip and leg. Diana Menuhin wrote to Colette Duhamel, one of Mathilde’s former pupils whose husband was at the Ministry of Cultural Affairs, to tell her of Vova’s plight in the hope of obtaining some government help. Jacques Duhamel promised to do what he could. Loyal friends in England, France and America, as well as organisations such as the Royal Ballet Benevolent Fund and the Dancing Times Fund, helped with the funeral costs and medical bills, despite the fact that money from the two funds was technically meant for Mathilde and legally they were not obliged to pass it on to her son. Vova hoped the RBBF would continue their help for another year. Margot Fonteyn was very generous, as was Claudine Booth (another former pupil now married to the wealthy George Courtauld) who when she passed through Paris had often given Vova money to buy something for his mother.

  Vova also had to be rehoused as soon as possible, as Villa Molitor was too expensive for him to run. The new accommodation had to be cheap, somewhere in the Auteuil/Passy area and near the centre so that he could get to work. Vova could not envisage this happening in less than a year, as his eyes were bad and he was still feeling the effects of his accident. The liquidation of Mathilde’s affairs would also take time. Unnecessary furniture, pictures and other objects had to be sold and the numerous files moved to other locations. It was suggested that the Dance Museum in Stockholm might be interested in buying Mathilde’s ballet relics but, as Vova explained, she had left few relics, just a few photographs.

  Friends applied to the French authorities to allow Vova (who they mistakenly called a descendant of Alexander III) exemption from taxes and various other contributions as a political refugee. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs now took over the question of rehousing Vova.

  The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Maurice Schuman, finally said that he would see if it was possible to house Vova in one of the rented apartment blocks belonging to the City of Paris. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs also confirmed that the aid given to Mathilde would now be transferred to her son. By May 1972 Vova had signed the contract for an apartment at number 8 rue de la Source, Paris 16. He expected to move around 1 July, although he hated the thought of moving.

  On Tuesday 27 June 1972, after a service in the Russian Church, the coffins of Mathilde and Andrei were moved to the tiny plot Vova had bought in Ste Geneviève-des-Bois. Once again money was collected to pay for a fitting memorial and contributions poured in from former pupils and friends. The transfer cost £110. Although the church charged no fee (apart from the choir), Vova said he would give what he could. The cost of the new tomb was beyond his means and he relied solely on the generosity of friends. The Royal Ballet Benevolent Fund made one more payment, and other friends contributed generously as a final gesture in memory of Mathilde.

  Early in August Vova moved to rue de la Source to begin a new life at the age of seventy. He was delighted with his ‘very cosy’ little apartment. ‘There is a small garden and it seems like I am in the country,’ he wrote. Mme Anastasia Iolkina, who had once looked after Mathilde’s studio, cooked and kept house. When her daughter Genia died from cancer in the summer of 1972 it was once again Vova who arranged the funeral.3 Monsieur Georges and Mme Anastasia now became Vova’s ‘family’.

  He continued to keep in touch with his mother’s former pupils and friends, always telling them the progress of the tomb, never forgetting to add that ‘everything is expensive here’4 – and never forgetting to thank them for the inevitable donation which followed. He kept reasonably busy with his wine business, he had a small pension, his salary and some financial help from his cousin Vladimir which enabled him to live.

  On the eve of the first anniversary of Mathilde’s death Mass was said in the Russian Church. On the actual anniversary Vova went to pray at his parents’ tomb.

  In March 1973 Vova was admitted to the Hospital St Antoine, Paris, for a hernia operation, remaining there for two weeks. He spent the summer partly with Vladimir and Leonida at St Briac and partly in Plombières, delighting in the open air. Monsieur Georges had recently died aged over eighty but Vova was still looked after by Mme Anastasia. In October he sent his uncle Joseph’s letters back to Slava with a friend who was returning to England.

  Vova died suddenly in the Hospital Necker at 149 rue de Sèvres on 23 April 1974, aged seventy-one. According to one source, he was admitted for an appendix operation and died from the effects of an injection of a drug to which he was allergic.5

  After the funeral service at 2 p.m. on 29 April he was buried with Andrei, Mathilde and her devoted maid Ludmilla in the small plot at Ste Geneviève-des-Bois. Poor Vova never knew who his father really was. Mathilde took the secret with her to the grave.

  The house in Villa Molitor is still inhabited and, certainly until 1995, the bedroom where Mathilde died remained unchanged. Even her bed was still there.6

  The house on the English Prospekt in St Petersburg, now Prospekt Maklina, where Mathilde once entertained the Tsarevich, is still there. On the eve of the Revolution Prince Alexander Romanovsky, 7th Duke of Leuchtenberg, managed to sell it and bring many of his family’s valuables out of Russia. The house was badly damaged in the Siege of Leningrad and its original appearance was lost during restoration work. It is currently occupied by the military and few visitors to St Petersburg today realise that it was the scene of passionate encounters between the Tsarevich and Mathilde Kschessinska.

  Andrei’s palace on the English Embankment (the former Von Dervis mansion) has also survived and was at one time a Soviet Palace of Weddings.

  After the October Revolution the Kschessinska mansion became the property of the Petrograd Soviet. Various organisations moved in and out, including a clinic and, in the late 1920s a boarding school for mentally retarded children. The ballerina Nina Tikonova, a friend of Mathilde’s, later recalled seeing children on the mansion’s terrace chopping up a white grand piano with an axe and throwing porcelain statues against the wall of the house. From 1931 to 1935 the mansion passed to the Society of Old Bolsheviks, changing hands twice more before 1937. All these organisations adapted the house to their own requirements, blocking up windows and doors so that the original layout of many of the rooms, plus what was left of the original furniture, disappeared.

  In 1937 the mansion was again altered and restored and on 6 November 1938 it opened as the Museum of S.M. Kirov. ‘So the private residence of Kschessins
ka stood as a mouthpiece of party ideology’, as two recent writers expressed it.7 In 1956 it was connected to the neighbouring Brandt residence by a two-storey addition (now the entrance to the house) and reopened on 5 November 1957 as the Museum of the October Revolution. Eventually the room used as a study by Lenin (Vova’s room) was restored, and by the 70th anniversary of the October revolution in 1987 the central enfilade of ground-floor rooms had been returned to their former beauty. These included the entrance hall, marble staircase and Winter Garden. The White Hall was damaged during the Revolution and the war but has now been completely renovated, although the only original part left is the floor.

  With the fall of communism in 1991 the mansion became the Museum of Russian Political History, with a small exhibition devoted to Mathilde in one corner. Theatrical costumes, letters, photographs and other personal items were displayed. Mathilde’s dresses were found in the entresol of Joseph’s home in St Petersburg, and also in the basement of her former home in Paris, by Constantine Sevenard, the State Duma representative, Joseph’s great-grandson.8 One of these items, a light green gold-spangled concert dress, was displayed in the museum.

  Other exhibitions have included in 1992 ‘Mathilde Kschessinska, Star of the Imperial Ballet’; and in 1995 ‘Dedicated to Mathilde Kschessinska’, for which Constantine Sevenard donated some items belonging to Mathilde and Joseph,9 including letters, a pencil sketch of the Tsarevich done by Mathilde, and photographs of Kschessinska in her stage costumes from The Queen of Spades, Esmeralda and The Sleeping Beauty.

  Sometimes concerts are held in the White Hall and it seems as if the ghost of Mathilde Kschessinska hovers by the side of the dancers, immersed again in the glories of the Russian ballet.

  One of the more enduring legends about Kschessinska’s mansion is that it was a gift from Nicholas II, who had a tunnel constructed underneath the River Neva to the Winter Palace opposite, so that he could make secret visits to his mistress. Visitors to the mansion have often asked to see the tunnel and experts have persistently tried to find it, but its existence has never been established.