Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs (18 page)

Julie and Ali were married on 11 December 1902 and moved to an apartment at English Prospekt 40. Ali left the regiment and went to work for the Ministry of Communications.

With Julie’s room now free, Mathilde turned it into a nursery for Vova.

Seven

‘R
ETIREMENT
’
FROM THE
S
TAGE

I
n 1903 St Petersburg celebrated the bicentenary of its founding by Peter the Great. As part of the celebrations a costume ball was to be given at the Winter Palace, with all the guests in seventeenth-century dress. The lavish costumes, many of them family heirlooms, took months to prepare and were accurate in every detail. To coincide with this prestigious event a performance was to be given in the Hermitage Theatre immediately preceding the spectacular ball. The programme consisted of one act of
Boris Godunov
, with Chaliapin singing the title role, a short Russian play, and the Kingdom of the Shades scene from
La Bayadère
.

Despite all her influential connections Mathilde was not included in the cast, probably because the ball was originally the Empress’s idea.
La Bayadère
was to be danced by Pavel Gerdt and Anna Pavlova, whose ‘protector’ was Teliakovsky’s stepson. ‘This was the first time the leading role was not played by a ballerina at the Hermitage,’ recalled Teliakovsky, ‘and later there was much talk because of this … She refused to believe it herself before she came on stage and Kschessinska was saying that
La Bayadère
would not work at all.’ Mathilde was probably annoyed to learn that the ballet received a very good reception, ‘His Majesty applauded even during the performance, which hardly ever happens at all’, and the Empress ‘praised Pavlova’.
¹

Instead, on 7 February at the Hermitage, Mathilde danced in a new ballet
The Fairy Doll
choreographed by Nicolai and Sergei Legat. It was set in a St Petersburg toyshop with Mathilde as the fairy doll flirting with her two Pierrot admirers. Bakst designed the sets and costumes, with a flattering pink dress for Mathilde. The Emperor, in naval uniform accompanied by the Empress, dressed in black and wearing diamonds and emeralds, sat in the middle of the front row with the Tsar’s brother Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich. Other members of the Imperial family and the court sat all around.

At midnight supper was served but by the time the dancers arrived
most of the food had been eaten by the opera and drama companies who had also performed. Nicolai Legat promptly invited the dancers to supper at a well-known restaurant, whereupon Teliakovsky called for Legat’s resignation on the grounds that he had insulted the Tsar. The incident was smoothed over and the dancers left.

The next day Mathilde received a telephone call from a very worried Legat, who was now afraid of reprisals. She promised to speak to Grand Duke Vladimir, who had been sent by the Tsar to congratulate them on the production. Shortly afterwards Mathilde reported that not only would there be no penalties, but the Tsar promised an especially good supper next time. He was as good as his word and after their next performance at the Hermitage Theatre the dancers drank a toast to the Tsar’s health. Later the Tsar chose
The Fairy Doll
for a private performance at the Hermitage to which he was bringing his daughters to the ballet for the first time.

The Legat brothers frequently attended the Friday night dinner of the Academy of Arts, organised by the painter Yegornov on Vassilievsky Ostrov (Basil Island). One day the Academy’s President Grand Duke Vladimir decided to attend, so Yegornov requested the Legat brothers to ask some of the Maryinsky ballerinas to dance a
divertissement
. Mathilde was invited, along with Anna Pavlova, Marie Petipa, Vera Trefilova and Olga Tchumakova. After the Grand Duke had left, the party sat down to a lively champagne supper, but the evening ended in tragedy when Yegornov suddenly collapsed and died.

That year Marius Petipa celebrated fifty years in St Petersburg and for his benefit performance a new ballet was staged.
The Magic Mirror
was based loosely on the story of Snow White, with gnomes instead of dwarfs. Things went badly from the start. At the dress rehearsal as the wicked queen looked into her mirror, in which the features of the princess (Mathilde) were supposed to appear, the glass shattered on to the stage. It was not a good omen for Petipa’s ballet.

The entire Imperial family was in the audience for the performance on 9 February. The reforms introduced by Teliakovsky had reduced the subscribers’ nights and a more middle-class audience now filled the Maryinsky. The ballet was a disaster. The gnomes provoked unanimous laughter, while catcalls and shouts of ‘curtain!’ echoed round the theatre. Even Grand Duke Vladimir joined in, his deep bass voice calling out loudly, ‘Let’s take ourselves off home’.
²
The ballet was given only once more at the Maryinsky and Petipa’s contract was not renewed.

Teliakovsky blamed Petipa for being at odds with the composer
of the new symphonic music and still more with the ugly sets of the painter Alexander Golovin. Petipa blamed a prearranged conspiracy and intrigues, and in particular the intrigues of Kschessinska, who he said took an active part in sabotaging the ballet to gain revenge because he failed to give a speech at her father’s benefit performance. Petipa claimed he had a sore throat that evening but Mathilde did not believe his excuse: ‘in her resentment [she] joined the camp of the Colonel’s followers [Colonel Bezobrazov, an influential balletomane], forgetting that I helped to create her artistic career, and that I was always ready to help her in everything which concerned her success on the stage,’ Petipa wrote.
³

In his memoirs Petipa quoted an undated letter from Mathilde, written originally in French, showing her earlier appreciation and asking him to arrange ‘a very, very pretty
pas-de-deux
’ for her to perform with one of her regular partners, George Kyasht, to music from the last act of Delibes’
Coppelia
. She ended the letter, ‘please accept in advance the gratitude of your devoted, Matilda Kschessinska [
sic
].’ Petipa added bitterly: ‘I learned the depth of this gratitude and devotion when the rehearsals of
The Magic Mirror
began.’
⁴

Whether she deliberately sabotaged the ballet or not, needless to say the debacle of
The Magic Mirror
did not even receive a mention in Mathilde’s memoirs.

Shortly afterwards Mathilde left for Vienna, where she and Nicolai Legat were engaged to dance at the Theatre Royal for six weeks. Olga Borkenhagen, who acted as Mathilde’s unofficial secretary/companion, and the dancer Lubov Egorova went too, as well as Mathilde’s maid Sonia and her dresser. They stayed at the Imperial Hotel, whose enormous high-ceilinged rooms and old-fashioned furniture Mathilde found unattractive.

Mathilde’s appearances in Europe were generally used to strengthen her reputation in Russia. Her admirers among the St Petersburg balletomanes followed whenever she danced in Moscow or abroad. Many of them, including her old friend Yuri Beliaiev, theatre critic from the
New Times
in St Petersburg, were in Vienna.

Mathilde was given a warm welcome, both by the members of the company and the Viennese public. She and Legat danced
Coppelia, Excelsior
and Legat’s
Valse Caprice
(its first performance in Western Europe). Even the 73-year-old Emperor Franz Joseph, who had not been to the theatre since the suicide of Crown Prince Rudolf in 1889, clapped enthusiastically at a performance of
Excelsior
.
⁵

One day Mathilde received a telegram from Grand Duke Vladimir
announcing his imminent arrival at the Imperial Hotel and inviting her to breakfast. He left the following day, his schedule not even permitting him to attend the theatre.

Before leaving, Mathilde gave a large reception for the press, to show appreciation for their praise, and the artists of the Viennese Ballet. She was presented with a medal to commemorate her performances, there were numerous bouquets and even plants. One, a lucky four-leafed clover, was taken home to Strelna and planted in the garden. She was also invited to a large ball, where she very much wanted to try the famous Viennese waltz. Pride prevented her – she was afraid of not matching the expert standards of the Viennese.

While in Vienna, Mathilde received an offer of 200,000 French francs (worth around £445,000 today) for five performances in New York. At that time, and even as late as 1919, there was little appreciation of ballet in America and only a very small portion of the population understood what it was about. Whether Mathilde was aware of this or whether, as she wrote in her memoirs, she was unwilling to spend several months separated from Vova and Andrei, the lucrative offer was declined. She preserved the contract as a curiosity.

America, however, came to Vienna that year. Isadora Duncan (called by some the ‘naked nymph’) was dancing in the Austrian capital and probably out of sheer curiosity Mathilde attended a performance. Nothing could have been more different from the Imperial ballet. Isadora danced barefoot in Grecian-style tunics of gauze or silk, refusing to wear even a shift underneath for modesty’s sake. At one show a disgruntled cavalry officer called out ‘How disgusting!’ Isadora promptly stopped the performance until all the officers had been removed from the theatre. Mathilde was so enchanted by Isadora’s performance of the Viennese waltz, which she danced in a red tunic, that she climbed on to a chair and cheered for all she was worth.
⁶

Mathilde returned home for Easter. At the station in Vienna she was so preoccupied with saying goodbye to friends and admirers that she gave her luggage to the porter and forgot about her jewel case. (It is hard to imagine Mathilde ever forgetting about her jewellery!) After a few moments of panic the case was found, safely in the possession of Sonia. Mathilde left Vienna unaware of the impact Isadora’s dancing would have on her own career.

On 20 April 1903 Mathilde was invited to replace Lubov Roslavleva, who was ill, in
Don Quixote
at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre. Moscow
audiences were used to the exuberant performances of the company at the Bolshoi; the St Petersburg dancers had a more aristocratic manner, as they performed regularly for the Imperial court. Mathilde therefore found herself in a strange environment.

An unaccustomed silence greeted her entrance on to the stage. Mathilde, who was used to applause as soon as she appeared at the Maryinsky, was worried. ‘After the
adagio
, however, unanimous applause broke out, and when I had danced my
variation
at high speed the whole audience dissolved in cheers.’ She was delighted by this conquest
⁷
and in December appeared at the Bolshoi again in
La Fille mal Gardée
.

Back in St Petersburg Grand Duke Vladimir was still a frequent visitor. He seemed to like being at Mathilde’s houses, often walking over to Strelna from Peterhof with his ADC Baron Knorring. On the Grand Duke’s name day he came with his sons Boris and Andrei. This was ‘to prevent possible misunderstandings’. It seems there was some tension, if not open animosity, between Vova’s putative fathers Sergei and Andrei. Mathilde emphasised her son’s likeness to Grand Duke Vladimir, recalling that when he saw Vova with his scanty hair tied up in a curl with a blue ribbon he remarked: ‘His head is just like mine!’
⁸

Perhaps because of these ‘misunderstandings’, Andrei finally acquired his own palace. The mansion at English Embankment 28 had previously been owned by the railway magnate Baron Paul von Dervis, one of Russia’s wealthiest men. In 1889 his widow had the palace completely remodelled by Alexander Krasovsky in the fashionable, elaborate Florentine style. In 1902 the magnificent Gold Drawing Room was used for an exhibition of Fabergé objects belonging to the Imperial family.

Baroness von Dervis died on 25 February 1903 and shortly afterwards the mansion was sold to Andrei. However, its luxurious, elegant rooms and spacious rococo and neo-Gothic halls did not encourage Andrei to set up home. Although he moved in, he did not even bother to substitute his own coats of arms and monograms for those of the von Dervis family. Mathilde soon became familiar with the palace, in which she and Andrei often met, thus avoiding confrontations with Sergei.

Mathilde was very jealous. Andrei became an admirer of Lydia Kyasht (a recent graduate and sister of George Kyasht, one of Mathilde’s partners). During the Krasnoe Selo season he asked her to supper. Explaining that she was dining with Alexei Ragasin, whom she later married, Lydia perhaps wisely refused what was in effect
an Imperial command. There was a terrible row about her boldness in defying a Grand Duke and she was in disgrace for some time. Kschessinska was not the kind of woman to brook competition and, according to Lydia, Andrei’s admiration earned her Mathilde’s enmity. Only later did they become friends. Although Lydia Kyasht did not give a year for this incident, it was probably 1902 or 1903. She and her brother transferred to Moscow in 1903/4 and Lydia only returned to St Petersburg in the autumn of 1907. She then moved to London.

In August 1903 Sergei’s father Grand Duke Michael Nicolaievich suffered a brain haemorrhage which left him partly paralysed. As soon as he could travel, the old Grand Duke was taken to Cannes. He was accompanied by Sergei, who settled him into a villa where he would live until his death.

During that year Mathilde sent a message through Grand Duke Sergei to ask the Tsar for his photograph. This was more than just a desire for a picture of her first love; it was a test of his continued goodwill after the birth of her son. To Mathilde’s delight a signed photograph arrived, not with his usual signature, Nicholas, but ‘Nikki, 1903’ as in the days of their romance.
⁹
It was a proof both of forgiveness and of her continued power.