Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs (22 page)

Estimates of the cost of the house range from half a million to a million roubles, at a time when one rouble would purchase a gross of eggs. There is some dispute as to where the money came from. Lydia Kyasht said it came from Grand Duke Sergei; while Kyrill Zinovieff and Prince David Chavchavadze both said the money came from Andrei. Maxim Gorky sniffed that she earned it ‘with leg-shaking and arm-swinging’
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and Mathilde was not pleased when verses circulated about her:

Like a bird you flew over the stage

And without sparing your legs

Danced your way to a palace.
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The best that can be said is that it was undoubtedly Romanov money. A story later circulated that it had been built by the Tsar, who had a secret passage constructed under the River Neva to link it with the Winter Palace opposite, so that he could visit Mathilde unnoticed.

Whichever Grand Duke paid the bill, its construction came at a bad time. After the opening of the Duma in 1906 the Grand Dukes
began to worry that their status and wealth would be threatened by the new parliament and that their incomes from the Imperial appanages (millions of acres of Crown lands acquired by Catherine the Great to provide incomes for the Imperial family) would be eroded away. The Grand Dukes were in agreement that the appanages belonged to the whole Imperial house and when the Tsar decided to sell nearly two million acres of these Crown lands to the peasants he had to back down in the face of violent opposition from both his mother and Grand Duke Vladimir. Finally the Grand Dukes were reluctantly forced to agree to sell some of this land to the peasants.

The luxurious mansion was always a comfortable place where Mathilde could restore her physical strength and mental equilibrium. She liked any excuse for a party and soon gained a reputation as a considerate hostess. Until 1917 the house was the Mecca of artistic and cultural life of St Petersburg, a veritable palace from which Mathilde wielded huge social influence. Guests included the balletomane Michael Stakhovitch, the lawyer Basil Maklakov, Alexander Mossolov (head of the Court Chancellery), Léon Bakst, Alexandre Benois, Fokine, Petipa, Pavlova, Karsavina and Nijinsky, Carl Fabergé, Feodor Chaliapin, actors from the English Theatre, and the Italian singer Lina Cavalieri. A frequent visitor was Antonina Nesterovska (‘Nina’), a member of the ballet company. She came from a modest background but, Mathilde observed rather patronisingly, ‘carefully noted my way of living and entertaining … and soon adapted herself to her new milieu’.
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Mathilde also formed a rather unlikely friendship with Isadora Duncan, who became a regular guest whenever she was in Russia. Dressed in her Greek tunic held in place by a clasp which looked like an antique brooch, Isadora became especially amusing after supper when the wine flowed. The two women then argued cheerfully about the merits of their respective arts – one based on the technique of the classical school, the other on the dance steps and movements of ancient Greece. Sometimes Isadora brought the young pupils from her dancing school. Dressed in little pink tunics, the girls danced barefoot on a sheet spread out on Mathilde’s floor.

Another famous visitor was Sarah Bernhardt, who performed in St Petersburg during 1908. She was hoping to buy a Borzoi dog but all the prime specimens were in private hands. Mathilde managed to obtain one with the help of friends and, at the last minute, presented it to Bernhardt at the station. Although Mathilde was later told that the great actress was extremely pleased with the dog and was even
photographed with it, she noted ruefully that not a word of thanks was forthcoming for her trouble.

Apart from genuine admirers, there were those who saw Mathilde’s friendship and influence as an entry to high society. Invitations to Kschessinska’s house, known to be frequented by many members of the Imperial family, were highly prized among this set.

Private theatricals and improvised concerts or satirical reviews were often part of the entertainment. Among the actors participating in these amateur performances were often members of the Imperial family. The most talented was Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich, Mathilde’s neighbour at Strelna, who under the pseudonym of ‘KR’ translated
Hamlet
into Russian and wrote and acted in his own play,
King of the Jews
. To Kschessinska’s mansion he often brought his sons Oleg and Igor, as well as Alexander Glazov and the composer P.P. Shenk. Mathilde’s sister Julie and her husband Ali were usually present, as was their brother Joseph, his second wife Celina and their half-brother Philippe Ledé (‘Fili’), of whom they were very fond.

Mathilde often held parties in her bathroom. Guests sat around the sunken bath drinking, smoking and talking in an atmosphere of goodwill and informality. ‘The Tsar never came to any,’ recalled Lydia Kyasht, ‘but all the younger Grand Dukes, including Boris, Prince Gabriel, Prince Igor and Andrei, as well as the Grand Duke Sergei Michaelovich … were to be met there.’ Lydia recalled Mathilde wearing ‘a massive diamond “dog collar” and ropes of diamonds and pearls which hung in glittering chains below her knees’.
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Suppers were held in the wine cellar after Mathilde’s performances at the Maryinsky. Guests were given a catalogue of the wines (all specially chosen by Andrei) so that they could request their preferred vintage. Cabinets contained glasses for every conceivable kind of wine, and a considerable amount was usually consumed.

Invitations to Mathilde’s Christmas parties were always sought-after. A magnificent tree decorated with gold tinsel and hung with toys stood near the entrance to the Winter Garden. ‘The dinner-table was a wonderful spectacle, spread with gold plate and antique glass,’ recalled a guest. One evening Mathilde was using a valuable lace tablecloth for the first time. ‘Now take great care not to spill any wine on my new lace cloth,’ she cautioned. ‘If you do you will spoil it … Lydia is especially to be careful!’ she added, looking at the mischievous Lydia Kyasht, who was always getting into trouble. Mathilde then insisted that everyone drink her health. Someone jogged Lydia’s elbow and the
entire contents of her glass went over the precious cloth. Mathilde was ‘very angry indeed’.
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Mathilde’s tantrums did not usually last long, unless she was indulging in what the ballet company called ‘Her Imperial Indignation’. Enemies were usually quickly converted to friends once they had met Mathilde. ‘She could charm the world’, said one historian and, despite her power, was ‘surprisingly unspoilt’. She remained on friendly terms with the ballet company and did not throw her weight around unnecessarily,
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although Lubov Egorova later recalled how they quarrelled over the colour of their tutus in
Paquita
.

In the evenings Mathilde liked to play poker and baccarat. A frequent partner was the artist Nicholas Roubtzov, who had worked on the interior of Mathilde’s mansion as well as decorating the palace of the Tsar’s sister Grand Duchess Olga. When he died in 1910 his widow was left with no means of support. Mathilde engaged Madame Roubtzova as housekeeper, giving her and her two daughters the best apartments in the servants’ quarters. She may not have realised that Roubtzova probably resented this patronising attitude. Roubtzova continued to join the baccarat and poker parties and after each game they set aside a fixed sum of money in memory of Nicholas Roubtzov, from which Madame Roubtzova was given grants from the capital. By 1917 the original fund had reached 20,000 roubles (over £63,000 today). Roubtzova would repay her mistress cruelly for this generosity.

Roubtzova’s daughter Natasha became an especial favourite of Mathilde, acting as her maid, travelling with her in Russia and sometimes abroad. Roubtzova’s son was a playmate of Vova.

Mathilde was especially fond of Ludmilla Roumiantzeva. Ludmilla, born on 18 August 1883, was a dressmaker in the costume workshop of the Imperial Theatres. As one of the most skilful and efficient seamstresses she was appointed dresser to the First Artists, finally becoming Mathilde’s dresser in 1912, caring for the costumes and ensuring that everything was to hand. Later she carried this even further, becoming Mathilde’s devoted personal maid.

In 1909 35-year-old Ivan Kournossov joined the household as butler, a lucrative post. Nijinsky, leaving one of Mathilde’s New Year parties, remarked: ‘Thank God, there is but one Kschessinska in St Petersburg, for between providing her with a remembrance and giving her butler a tip, we should be penniless for life!’
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Yet Kschessinska’s reputation was such that Alexandra Danilova was warned by her aunt ‘that under no circumstances should I ever accept
an invitation to Kschessinska’s palace, because it was considered not nice. Girls went there to pick up a protector or to be in vogue with the men.’ After the revolution these parties were described as ‘orgies … for young girls [graduates] of the Imperial Ballet School … girls raised almost as in a convent and then turned over to the Grand Dukes’.
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Mathilde needed the constant admiration of men. She was particularly fond of masked balls where, unrecognisable in a mask and domino, the well-known ballerina could fascinate those with whom she came into contact. These flirtations were supposedly very innocent and later the ‘victim’ usually received a signed photograph of Mathilde.

Sometimes they resulted in lifelong friendships. One such was with Vladimir Lazarev, who she met at a masked ball at the Maly Theatre during the winter of 1910/11. Mathilde slipped into the theatre in a Paris dress and a mask. Lazarev was attracted by her dazzling smile but only later, after she had changed and was at her champagne stall, did he discover the identity of the lady who had so attracted him (although the necklace and brooch of enormous emeralds and diamonds may have given him a clue). The resulting friendship was of benefit to them both during the Revolution.

Meanwhile, Mathilde had again fallen foul of Teliakovsky. Early in 1906 Olga Preobrajenska made her debut as Lise in
La Fille mal Gardée
. Mathilde was furious but had been unable to prevent Preobrajenska finally being given this role. Teliakovsky recalled that Mathilde felt personally insulted and did everything in her power to cause problems during the course of the performance. ‘It happened that the little door of the chicken cage was left open, and so during one of Preobrajenska’s dances the chickens flew out over the stage, thus causing a certain commotion.’ Preobrajenska nevertheless continued. She was, as the critic Valerian Svetlov later said, ‘remote from the banal figure familiar in this role [Mathilde], at the same time she settled her account with Kschessinska’.
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There may have been another, deeper reason for Mathilde’s annoyance. Olga had remained friendly with the Tsar (who she had met at Mathilde’s old house on the English Prospekt), often playing cards or piano duets with him at the palace. Mathilde could not be invited to the palace privately like this and it must have rankled. Then Olga was given the almost unprecedented honour (for a dancer) of being taken to the palace in one of the Imperial carriages to be formally presented. For all her power and connections with the Grand Dukes this was an
honour Mathilde could never receive. It would be an ‘intolerable insult’ to the Empress.
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The rivalry continued. At a benefit for Kschessinska, Preobrajenska performed a sailor’s hornpipe dressed as a cabin boy. The audience demanded an unprecedented three encores. Mathilde cannot have been pleased.

Mathilde now ruled the theatre. Teliakovsky said she continued to give orders, arousing fear in both the ballet master and the principal
régisseur
(in ballet, similar to a stage manager but with more responsibility), announcing which ballets she would dance and when she would perform them before the repertoire programme was published. ‘One can do nothing with Kschessinska,’ said the
régisseur
in despair, ‘it is a rule already established by our predecessors.’
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Mathilde wanted to revive Perrot’s old ballet
Katarina, the Robber’s Daughter
, first staged at the Maryinsky in 1847, but her request was refused. In revenge, said Teliakovsky, she threatened to play dirty tricks against the
régisseur
and the administration of the Imperial Theatres and to use all her influential contacts in order to get her own way.

Teliakovsky was a strongly moral man who liked neither Mathilde nor the power she wielded. He disliked her short stage costumes and her ‘fat legs, deliberately turned out and arms extended in a self-satisfied invitation to embrace’. He described her as ‘vulgar, trite and banal’, a ‘technically strong, morally brazen and cynical, impudent ballerina living simultaneously with two Grand Dukes and not only not secretly, but the opposite, intertwining even this art into her fetid, cynical garland of human offal and debauchery’.
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When Alexander Kroupensky, the all-powerful Assistant Director of the Maryinsky Theatre, knocked on her dressing room door and was told by Grand Duke Sergei to enter, he found Kschessinska sitting in just a shirt in front of the Grand Duke. ‘A pure idyll!’ wrote the outraged Teliakovsky.
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Changes were taking place within the Russian ballet. Isadora Duncan had caused a sensation and the influence of her style would have a lasting effect at the Maryinsky. Michael Fokine was especially impressed. As a dancer and budding choreographer he wanted to make the Russian ballet more expressive and natural. His ideas included banishing tutus and
pointe
shoes unless really necessary, scrapping elaborate hand gestures, eliminating the
variation
designed to show off the virtuosity of the ballerina and abolishing the taking of bows in the middle of a performance, which broke the continuity of the ballet. (This last item was especially regretted by Mathilde.) He wanted to get
rid of the uninspiring old-style ballets of Petipa, ‘with their obligatory marches, waltzes, mazurkas and polonaises’, in favour of more artistic unity. As Benois said: ‘Fairies have been the ruin of ballet.’
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