Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs (28 page)

Mathilde and Vova moved into an eight-roomed river suite at the Savoy (Andrei was in the adjacent suite). Society had heard the gossip about Mathilde’s power and her relationships with the Tsar and Grand Dukes and there was some doubt about how she would be received in London. Mathilde solved the problem soon after her arrival by entertaining the press. All the newspapers carried the story,
stressing that Mme Kschessinska did not speak English but her French was charming. ‘She dances only to please the Court,’ reported the
Standard
, ‘or, as one famous diplomatist in St Petersburg put it, “to conserve the peace of Europe.’” A current story claimed that the greatest diplomatic triumph of the Russian Ambassador to France was ‘when he induced Kschessinska to dance in Paris’. Mathilde denied that she had great political influence, telling the
Standard
‘everyone has enemies…such a report is entirely untrue’. Since the phraseology in all the accounts is similar, one writer has suggested that ‘a splendid PR handout in English’ was issued.
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Mathilde received the press in the drawing room of her Savoy suite, which was filled with her favourite roses and carnations. She loved flowers, the reporters stressed, almost as much as jewels. The gems were very much in evidence. Her black tunic and bolero, decorated with little platinum beads, was caught at the neck by a diamond clasp. A diamond pendant glittered from a fine chain and enormous diamond earrings sparkled against her dark hair.

Throwing open her jewel case, which she described as only a tiny part of her collection, Mathilde described each item and its approximate value. Whether these were her everyday jewels, or whether they had been brought from Fabergé’s vaults for the occasion, was not made clear. Asked if it was true that her jewels were really worth a million roubles she agreed, pointing out that just two of the sapphires (the ones Andrei had given her) were worth 45,000 roubles. At that time a salary of 80 roubles a week was considered good in Russia. She then showed off her extensive and expensive wardrobe before speaking about the reason for her visit and her delight at the opportunity to dance at the Royal Opera House.

The reporters duly noted Mathilde’s comment that the ballet was more important to her than the jewels, and she stressed that her title of Dancer of Merit to the Emperor of Russia was higher than that of Prima Ballerina. Mathilde was then asked about Pavlova, who was due to give her last performance with Diaghilev on Saturday, but insisted that there could be no comparison as their styles were so different.
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Mathilde glossed over the embarrassment of her visit to ‘replace’ Pavlova in June. ‘I don’t believe a soul in London ever heard my name until today,’ the
Daily Mail
reported her as saying.
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As the press filed out, one reporter formed the impression that Kschessinska was ‘a very great lady’, reporting that ‘Madame Kschessinska’s dress and manner have nothing in them reminiscent
of the stage’. That evening Andrei attended Pavlova’s performance in the box of the Russian Ambassador Count Benckendorff. Whether Mathilde was with him is unknown.
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Almost as soon as Dr Milk had returned to Russia Vova was taken ill. Mathilde was frantic. Not knowing where to turn, Andrei telephoned his cousin Grand Duke Michael Michaelovich at Ken Wood House, Hampstead. He immediately despatched his own children’s doctor to the Savoy. The doctor recommended a nurse who, although she frightened Mathilde by insisting that the window be left wide open, proved extremely competent and Vova soon recovered.

Free from concern over Vova, Mathilde could get down to rehearsals. The stage at the Royal Opera House was flat, which was somewhat disconcerting after the raked stage of the Maryinsky. Also, many of the Russians found it strange that the opera house was in the middle of a vegetable market. Andrei often wandered in and sat down to watch. If Mathilde was thirsty he rushed off to the bar, returning with attendants laden with drinks and sandwiches for the whole company.

Mathilde Kschessinska’s London debut took place on Tuesday 14 November. Diaghilev had helped her choose a blue tutu to match the sapphire bandeau in her hair and she wore diamonds on her neck and arms. Nijinsky appeared in an ermine-trimmed Russian costume in black and orange. The house was packed and the Court Circular listed fifteen lines of distinguished people who attended, but if Mathilde was hoping King George and Queen Mary would be present she was disappointed. They had left for India three days earlier, after watching Pavlova dance, to attend the Delhi Durbar.

Aurora and the Prince
was classed as ‘uninspiring’ by
The Times
, which called Mathilde’s share in it ‘no more than a series of extraordinary skilful, but often quite unlovely gymnastics’.
Carnival
, for which Mathilde wore a white crinoline frock with crimson spots on the frilled skirt and bunches of cherries in her hair, fared better. It suited Mathilde’s bubbly personality and
The Times
praised her ‘droll, dry, minutely calculated steps and her incomparably witty mime’.
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Andrei and Count Benckendorff watched from the box of Lady Juliet Duff, who with her mother Lady Ripon was a great supporter of Diaghilev. Also in the box was the designer of
Carnival
, Léon Bakst. Lady Juliet, seeing Bakst’s lack of enthusiasm, urged him to say something nice to the Grand Duke about Kschessinska. Bakst thought hard for a moment, then said with his characteristic lisp: ‘Her dreth lookth very new, Thir.’
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The success was not as great as Mathilde had hoped. It was, she wrote, what the French diplomatically call a
succès d’estime
, due to her rank as Prima Ballerina of the Imperial Ballet. ‘What would the public say…if it knew nothing of the sapphires of fabulous size…if it was ignorant of her friendship with the Tsar, and if it had not been told that she is the wealthiest woman on the stage?’ the
Daily News
mused. ‘Probably that she is a competent dancer of the stereotyped kind.’
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On 18 November Mathilde danced
Le Pavillon d’Armide
, which had already been performed in London by Karsavina and Pavlova. Critics inevitably compared them.
The Times
had this to say:

Even with Mme Karsavina it was still a little dull. Mme Pavlova displayed her talent by making this somewhat lifeless affair a thing of real beauty and interest. Mme Kschessinska…displays a technical skill which is remarkable, but she has not the personal magnetism of her predecessor. She never makes one forget that she is a
prima ballerina
.

The Lady
gushed over Mathilde’s cobalt-blue dress, on which the lace and the jewels were real.
¹²
Florence Henderson was dismissive. ‘The new woman Kchessinska [
sic
] was a great disappointment, she was fat and
passée
, not on the same plane with either Karsavina or Pavlova.’
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Mathilde’s jewels were under strict security at Fabergé, every piece numbered and catalogued. Before each performance one of the firm’s detectives brought the items Mathilde had requested to her dressing room and took them back again afterwards. ‘Her jewels are so magnificent that one forgets to watch her dancing at times, such a dazzling appearance did she present,’ enthused the
Tatler
.
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Mathilde needed to be sure of success in
Lac des Cygnes
. With Diaghilev’s agreement (and how could he refuse, having bought the whole Moscow production, with or without her help, for just three performances?) Mathilde decided to insert her classical solo to music by Kadletz into the ballet and she insisted on extra rehearsals. The first performance was therefore postponed for two days and Mathilde danced
Carnival
on 28 November, sharing the bill with the popular Karsavina who had just returned from Russia. Karsavina’s dancing ‘destroyed utterly all the diamonds which the Tsar had given to the rival lady! (I forget her name)’, wrote the stage designer Charles Ricketts.
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To play the violin for her Kadletz solo and the Tchaikovsky
pas-de-deux
, Mathilde engaged the Russian violinist Misha Elman, who was in London for some concerts at the Queen’s Hall. Although rehearsals for the
pas-de-deux
were held at Covent Garden, Mathilde rehearsed the solo privately in her Savoy suite with Andrei as the only witness. Elman refused to accept payment but asked Andrei to help him get some concerts in Moscow and St Petersburg. Mathilde gave him a handsome present.

According to Kschessinska, the Kadletz solo ensured the triumphant reception for which she had hoped. The critics, however, were divided in their reviews of the ballet. The famous thirty-two
fouettés
were described by
The Times
as ‘some extraordinary feats of precisely calculated design’ which she performed ‘with “finesse” and a mathematical exactness which suggested a pair of magic compasses controlled by a fantastic philosopher with a taste for humour as well as a sense of beauty’.
The Lady
thought otherwise, commenting that she ‘executed some marvellous technical “stunts” which commanded admiration mingled with regret that a dancer of such ability should apparently have so little sense of beauty.’
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Nevertheless, the stage was covered with flowers and Mathilde was delighted. ‘Her virtuosity created a furore,’ wrote Diaghilev’s
régisseur
, Grigoriev. ‘At the same time she was movingly tender and poetic. Her
pas-de-deux
with Nijinsky…was truly unforgettable.’
¹⁷

Elman accompanied Mathilde again on 5 December, but not at her last performance. However, the story in Kschessinska’s memoirs that he dashed across London in the interval from his concert at the Albert Hall [
sic
] especially to play for her is another of Mathilde’s inventions.

Mathilde resented the huge ovations given to Karsavina, London’s favourite, and there were some tempestuous scenes with Diaghilev. Mathilde’s claim that Nijinsky was so jealous of the ovations
she
received that he tore his costume seems unlikely (although Bronislava recalled that he was disappointed that her success was the greater). The story was probably invented by Diaghilev to bolster Kschessinska. In fact, Karsavina later said that Nijinsky’s rage was directed against
her
.

Always generous to the ballet company (which included Sima), Mathilde and Andrei arranged a Sunday outing to Windsor Castle. An extra carriage was fitted to the train from Paddington and charabancs were waiting for them at Windsor Station. Unfortunately the castle was closed to the public. To Andrei’s dismay the guards had instructions to admit no one without a special permit, so the party drove round
the park and saw the town and the Eton schoolboys. During lunch at a small hotel opposite the castle the girls ate roast beef and blew kisses to some guardsmen, who were holding their bearskins out of the castle windows to freshen them in the rain. A visit to Count Benckendorff at the Russian Embassy procured a permit and the following Sunday they were able to view the splendours of Windsor Castle.

Mathilde and Andrei gave several luncheon parties for the company at the Savoy, where they feasted on
blinis
(Russian pancakes), caviar and vodka provided by the hotel’s Russian chef. Andrei instructed the maître d’hôtel to serve a traditional Russian meal but, to his consternation, the hotel staff served small English portions. The Grand Duke was obliged to ask his ADC to explain the difference between English and Russian helpings. The Savoy’s waiters looked on in amazement as the Russians heaped enormous amounts on to their plates, washed down with huge tumblers of wine and neat vodka. Andrei requested the name and address of each dancer’s closest relative in Russia so that on his return he could send them a present. The Military Cadet school was thrown into confusion when the Grand Duke’s ADC telephoned the intention of presenting one young cadet with a plum pudding.

Mathilde gave a supper party for Diaghilev, Nijinsky, Benois, Bakst and the leading artists. At midnight they moved to a private room where the party continued until dawn. One evening Mathilde taught some of the men to play poker. Andrei changed the chips for real gold pieces and the players became ‘feverishly excited as the money clinked back and forth across the table’.
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Mathilde was captivated by the elegance of the fashionable Savoy Grill, which was so well patronised by royalty that by 1914 the special bell heralding their arrival had to be abandoned. Nine-year-old Vova was so impressed with the sartorial elegance of the gentlemen’s evening dress that he fixed a table napkin to his back and sat at the table with great dignity in his ‘imaginary tails’. Mathilde promptly commissioned an evening suit which he wore nightly for dinner.
¹⁹
Her own everyday jewels were so valuable that the hotel management requested that they be placed in the safe every night. When Mathilde asked for her diamond diadem from Fabergé’s safe for a dinner party at the Savoy, she was discreetly trailed by elegantly attired security men the whole evening.

While in London Mathilde had her photograph taken by Emil Otto Hoppé, the society photographer. ‘She came to my studio,’ Hoppé said years later, ‘and I had to wait while she put on her jewels – but then she danced a Russian dance, and it was marvellous.’
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