Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs (13 page)

Mathilde did not dance at Krasnoe Selo that season. On her return from Poland she retired to Strelna to rest. Her only stage appearance was on 18 July at a gala performance of
The Pearl
in honour of King Carol of Roumania, again on Olga Island. This time Mathilde danced the leading role of the White Pearl.

At Strelna the visitors included three of her dearest friends, Prince Dimitri Orbeliani (‘Mitia’), Boris Gartmann and Prince Nikita Troubetzkoy. All were pages in the Imperial Household and were commissioned as officers that August – Nikita in the Nijegorodsky Dragoons, Mitia in the Pskov Dragoons and Boris in the Horse Guards. Nikita and Mitia, after celebrating in town, continued the celebrations at Strelna with Mathilde. After a late night they awoke next morning to drink, not tea, but pink champagne, thoughtfully sent to their room by the hostess so that they could continue the party. Mathilde remained at the dacha until early autumn, only returning to the capital to dance
The Sleeping Beauty
on 20 September.

In January 1898 Legnani had scored her last real triumph in the première of
Raymonda
. Mathilde renewed the challenge that autumn when Petipa revived for her
Pharaoh’s Daughter
, based on a novel by Gautier. This four-act ballet is, as its name suggests, set in Egypt. It tells of an English lord and his servant who shelter from a storm inside a pyramid. They smoke opium and fall asleep. The lord is visited by the Pharaoh’s daughter Aspicia, risen from her sarcophagus. The English lord becomes Taor, an Egyptian who woos Aspicia, and they elope. At the end of the ballet, after many difficulties, the Pharaoh forgives the couple and allows them to marry. At this point the English lord wakes and realises it was only a dream.

This became one of the best ballets in Mathilde’s repertoire, probably her favourite after
La Fille mal Gardée
and she only reluctantly allowed others to dance it. Mathilde ‘shone with the greatest brilliance’ in this ballet, wrote Boris Muraviev in
Le Journal de Genève
.
⁹
Her talent, said the Soviet ballet historian Vera Krasovskaya, was to combine the model of classical dance with the inspiration of dramatic experiences. Her interpretation became the standard for this role.

At the première on 21 October 1898 the role of Aspicia’s aged fiancé the King of Nubia was mimed by Felix Kschessinsky, who that year was created a Merited Artist of the Imperial Theatres. Mathilde was every inch the star, described variously as wearing a dress by Paquin, diamonds from Paris jewellers and, in another scene, an elegant tunic, her arms and neck glittering with Fabergé ornaments. Even in the scene where she supposedly emerged from the depths of the Nile Mathilde wore a magnificent new costume. Although one reviewer called it absurd, the public loved Kschessinska and admired her sparkling technique. Mathilde introduced her ‘magnificent virtuoso
variation
’ from this ballet into nearly every work she performed.
¹⁰

Mathilde has been criticised for wearing her jewels on stage but in this she was not alone. Others also followed this trend. Once there was a frantic search when Pavlova’s jewels went missing in her Copenhagen hotel. They were discovered in a laundry basket. In 1895 the
Petersburg Gazette
criticised Kschessinska for dancing the beggar woman in
Paquita
wearing diamond earrings and a sumptuous pearl ring. ‘Begging for alms – and suddenly in diamonds! Absurd!’ Mathilde realised that the public wanted to see a star and she was determined to look like one. On stage she often wore ‘the Tsar’s necklace’ of walnut-sized diamonds and it appears in many of her photographs.

Mathilde always wore a wig on stage, saying that it was easier to
fix jewellery into and it always looked wonderful. Her appearance was invariable. Whether she was an Egyptian princess, gypsy or beggar woman her wig was curled in the latest fashion by the renowned St Petersburg hairdresser Delacroix and she was tightly corseted, the garments specially made in a St Petersburg corset shop. Mathilde, like some of the other great ballerinas of her era (for instance Preobrajenska and, later, Karsavina) danced in soft Italian
pointe
shoes. The Russian
pointe
shoes grew stiffer as other dancers found they needed more support.

The Kschessinsky dynasty was at its peak and balletomanes avidly tried to obtain tickets for performances in which all four members – father, son and two daughters – took part. Joseph often partnered his more famous sister, occasionally even dancing with her at private parties. Once they performed an Apache dance with Alexander Orlov. Joseph was a born teacher and taught at the Theatre School, where his pupils included Anna Pavlova and Lydia Kyasht.

At the end of this season Ivan Vsevolozsky, Director of the Imperial Theatres since 1881, retired and became Director of the Hermitage, ‘his retirement… precipitated by his disagreements with his new superior… Baron V.B. Frederiks.’
¹¹
He was succeeded in the Imperial Theatres by 39-year-old Prince Sergei Volkonsky, a member of one of Russia’s greatest families. The prince was inexperienced in theatre administration, having come from private life, and only accepted the post to please his father.

One of his first actions was to engage another Assistant for Special Affairs. This decision was to change the course of Russian ballet for ever. His chosen candidate was Sergei Diaghilev.

Diaghilev and Kschessinska were the same age. Sergei Diaghilev was born in the province of Novgorod on 17 March 1872. His mother died in childbirth and two years later his father, a colonel of the Imperial Guard, married a lady from a distinguished musical family. When Sergei was ten years old they moved to one of his family estates near Perm. Although Diaghilev later studied law in St Petersburg to please his family, his main interest was in the arts and he enrolled at the Conservatoire in 1890. Always elegantly dressed, fluent in French and German, he travelled around Europe looking the epitome of a Russian nobleman abroad. He bought fine furniture, collected works of art and, on returning home, began to organise art exhibitions. It was in 1899, while editing and publishing his ground-breaking magazine
The World of Art
with his friends Alexandre Benois, Léon Bakst and Walter
Nouvel that Diaghilev met Prince Sergei Volkonsky, who contributed some articles.

When Volkonsky became Director of the Imperial Theatres and appointed Diaghilev to his staff in 1899 he asked him to edit
The Imperial Theatres Annual
. This rather dull publication, giving details of the performances at all the Imperial Theatres, was turned by Diaghilev into a luxurious journal. He thought he was made for life and began to make up to Mathilde, seeing her home after performances, knowing she had powerful friends at court. Through Mathilde he met Grand Duke Sergei Michaelovich. Mathilde mistook Diaghilev’s intentions and tried out her charms. ‘Curiously, I have always been successful with men in whom I expected least of all to awake admiration!’ she wrote, in a reference to Diaghilev’s well-known homosexuality. In fact, although she pursued him (even turning up unexpectedly and sitting beside him at the theatre), Mathilde could not penetrate Diaghilev’s ‘elegant but cold amiability’.
¹²

The company nicknamed him ‘Chinchilla’, because of the lock of grey at the front of his dark hair. When he entered his box while Mathilde was dancing, the company sang very quietly:

I’ve just heard

That ‘Chinchilla’ is in his box,

And I’m terribly afraid

To make a mistake!
¹³

After her
variation
Mathilde always bowed to him at the footlights. ‘Her liking for Diaghilev was exceedingly obvious, and astonished no-one,’ said Serge Lifar.
¹⁴
Mathilde always had an eye for a handsome man. Diaghilev was probably her only failure. Perhaps this was at the root of their later problems.

At about this time Mathilde became attracted to Nicolai Skalon, a handsome young Hussar officer. It was common knowledge in St Petersburg that his name was linked with a certain Countess but, nevertheless, Mathilde determined to use all her wiles in order to captivate him.

Like many Guards regiments the Hussars had a subscription box at the Maryinsky in the fashionable
bel étage
. Nicolai Skalon soon began attending all Mathilde’s performances, arriving early so that he did not miss a moment when she was on stage. At the end of the season he visited her at Strelna. When she left for Krasnitzy he was at the station
to see her off, and was there again on her return to St Petersburg. He gave her a pretty little watch surrounded by diamonds, for use as a buttonhole. Mathilde said that everybody loved him, although she omitted to say what Grand Duke Sergei thought of her new admirer.

In the event it did not matter. Skalon became ill with progressive paralysis and was admitted to a clinic, where he died. At the funeral Mathilde placed a small bouquet of violets on his coffin. Later she received a touching letter from his brother.

In the autumn of 1899 the Italian ballerina Henrietta Grimaldi was making a guest appearance at the Maryinsky. Mathilde was in her box watching
Coppelia
when, at the end of the first act, Grimaldi sprained her ankle. Mathilde was asked to take the ballerina’s place so that the performance could continue. This she did, with apparent success, despite the fact that
Coppelia
had been removed from her repertoire a year earlier. The administration of the Imperial Theatres duly expressed thanks to Kschessinska for kindly agreeing to take over at such short notice.

Mathilde was therefore amazed and angry to learn shortly afterwards that Prince Volkonsky was giving
La Fille mal Gardée
to Grimaldi. Traditionally the ballets in a dancer’s repertoire could not be given to anyone else without her consent. When Mathilde heard the news she said: ‘On no account! That is my ballet.’ Yet Grimaldi was, after all, only a guest artist appearing for one season. Courtesy should have dictated that she be allowed this role – but Mathilde was due to dance it in the autumn and doubtless did not want any comparisons to be made between her and Grimaldi.
¹⁵

Mathilde went to see Volkonsky and, she said, asked him ‘politely and with deference’ to reconsider. According to Volkonsky, Mathilde ‘declared that she had the sole right’ to
La Fille mal Gardée
and asked him not to give ‘her ballet’ to Grimaldi. Volkonsky refused, pointing out both the conditions of the contract and the fact that there was no monopoly of roles in the Imperial Theatres. Mathilde refused to budge and ‘left very discontented’.
¹⁶

The next morning Volkonsky received a telephone call from Grand Duke Sergei Michaelovich, who wanted to arrange a meeting. In the Grand Duke’s presence Volkonsky went through all the points again, including also the question of discipline and duty of service. Sergei was adamant that the matter be considered ‘not with official dryness, but with humanity and heart’.
¹⁷

Volkonsky then put the reasons for his refusal in writing. In reply he received an incoherent letter from Sergei, which ended: ‘You write that you answer me after mature deliberation. I, too, did not address myself to you without it. By wronging Matilda Felixovna [
sic
] you insult me.’ Rehearsals continued.
¹⁸

Volkonsky’s predecessor had warned him about Mathilde. Even before the post of Director had been offered to him, one of his friends was asked whether Volkonsky was skilled enough to prevent the Grand Dukes interfering in questions connected with the theatre. For ‘Grand Dukes’ read Kschessinska. The hapless Volkonsky was about to get a taste of her power.

‘Things obviously could not rest there, and I took my own steps,’ she wrote. A cipher telegram was sent to the Tsar, who interrupted a visit to the Empress’s family in Darmstadt to deal with the problem. A few days later Baron Frederiks, Minister of the Court, sent a cipher telegram to Prince Volkonsky ordering him in the Tsar’s name not to take
La Fille mal Gardée
away from Kschessinska. The rehearsals with Grimaldi were abandoned and Volkonsky continued to be ‘pleasant and considerate’ to Mathilde as if the incident had never occurred.
¹⁹

Mathilde’s friendships with the Grand Dukes and her hotline to the Tsar, with the devoted Sergei Michaelovich acting as go-between, soon gave rise to the legend of ‘Magnificent Matilda’, all-powerful in the Maryinsky Theatre. It was certainly true that every time there was an intrigue against her the Tsar was persuaded to intervene. Yet in the absence of a child her hold on Nicholas has never been satisfactorily explained. Nicholas was a true gentleman, not a rake like many of the other Grand Dukes, and it is possible that he felt guilty about taking Mathilde’s virginity, no light matter in Victorian times. It is certainly true, as Volkonsky said, that Mathilde was able to use Grand Duke Sergei Michaelovich, ‘with whom she was living’, to ask for whatever she wanted from the Tsar, who ‘in memory of the close connection he had formerly had with her, granted her every request’. Mathilde also worded these requests cleverly so it would seem that she was the innocent party, made to suffer because of her former connection with the Tsar. ‘Consequently, he thought that, by granting her requests, he was at the same time righting a wrong and saving her from unjust persecution.’
²⁰
Nicholas was also indebted to Sergei’s family, who had lent him money to buy Mathilde’s house in 1894.