Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs (44 page)

In June the
New York Times
reported that Andrei ‘was going to the United States at the cabled request of Mrs W B Leeds [Princess Xenia] to aid in establishing the identity of Mme Tchaikovsky… The Grand Duke expects to sail this week with his wife, Princess Krassinshaya [
sic
].’ Mrs Leeds’ butler refused to comment, saying only that his employers were away on a cruise. Mrs Leeds had allegedly written to Andrei ‘expressing her belief’ that the young woman was her distant cousin and playmate Anastasia
³⁷
but nothing came of Andrei and Mathilde’s proposed visit.

In the autumn of 1928 twelve members of the Romanov family issued a signed statement declaring ‘Anastasia’ an impostor. Andrei continued his investigation, defying Cyril’s order to ‘cease all activity in Anastasia’s interest’, but even he became disillusioned as the case began to turn into a hunt for the Tsar’s fortune. This was something in which Andrei did not wish his name to become involved. Nevertheless, he remained the only Grand Duke to acknowledge ‘Anastasia’.
³⁸

In America Frau Tchaikovsky began using the name by which she would be known worldwide – Anna Anderson. Mathilde would be drawn back into the controversy but, for the moment, they had their own pressing money problems to solve. ‘The question of money had come up in a crucial fashion from the very first day of our life as
émigrés
,’ Mathilde wrote in her memoirs.
³⁹
Villa Alam had been mortgaged, the 7,000 francs spent. The market was flooded with exiled Russians trying to sell the jewels they had salvaged, the Bolsheviks were now selling to the West items ‘confiscated’ from nationalised palaces and Andrei had therefore received a lot less than he expected from the sale of his mother’s rubies. Queen Marie of Roumania was ‘constantly helping her Vladimirovichi relatives’.
⁴⁰
A brief glimmer of hope came from Poland, where Andrei still owned some land. Unfortunately, in the final adjustment of the frontiers this part of Poland was restored to the Soviet Union, ending their hopes.

Mathilde had brought some of her jewels out of Russia, including ‘the Tsar’s necklace’. Although offered a fortune for it, she had always refused to sell. Some of her pieces were sold to raise much-needed funds – but Mathilde’s passion for the gaming tables proved to be her ruin.

Mathilde loved to gamble and was superstitious. She had always sewn the ribbons on to her own ballet shoes, considered the number 13 lucky and in her relationship with the Tsar had ‘seen the supreme predestination – she became Kschessinska II, he became Nicholas II’. At the Casino she always played on her favourite number, 17. On the roulette tables she became known as ‘Madame 17’.
⁴¹

Night after night since the early 1920s Mathilde had gambled at the Casino, once lending 1,000 francs to Anna Pavlova, another keen player, to settle her losses. According to one rumour Mathilde lost and won back all her wealth (estimated at millions of francs) three times in Monte Carlo. Even when she lost Mathilde managed to rise from the table with a smile, calmly drink a glass of champagne and leave regally.
⁴²
Now it appears that Mathilde and Andrei gambled heavily at Monte Carlo – and lost. In March 1928 the
New York Times
reported that ‘the fortune of the Duke and his wife had been lost, a great part of it going over the gaming tables at Monte Carlo’. It was said that among the assets lost at the roulette wheel were Mathilde’s fabulous jewels.
⁴³

Somehow they had to make money, but how? Mathilde was fifty-six, Andrei forty-nine. He, like all the Grand Dukes, was ill-equipped to survive in the real world. Brought up in the luxury of palaces with hundreds of servants, their every whim catered for, they
had no conception of the value of money, much less how to earn a living, although Andrei seems to have made a few francs by allowing his name to be used by Romanoff Vodka.
⁴⁴
Vova, now twenty-six, had presumably finished his interrupted education but, spoilt from childhood, he was as poorly prepared for real life as Andrei. There was also the widowed Julie to support. That left Mathilde.

Mathilde was too old to dance – but not too old to pass on her art to the younger generation. She decided to open a ballet school in Paris. Lubov Egorova (now Princess Nikita Troubetzkoy), Olga Preobrajenska and Vera Trefilova had all done the same. If Mathilde had any doubts about this course of action she knew there was no other choice.

In the autumn of 1928 she and Andrei went to Paris to look at suitable properties. Mathilde needed a house with a garden where her fox terrier could run around, and a separate studio for the ballet classes. This proved both difficult and expensive. Eventually a studio was found in a building under construction but for their own accommodation the agent could only offer one small house.

The taxi stopped at a wicket gate and in the middle of tall chestnut trees and flowers Mathilde saw a three-storey property which currently housed a boarding school. The house was approached by steps from the long garden and entered through a large conservatory. To the right of this was a small drawing room. On the top floor were three bathrooms and three lavatories, a rarity in Paris at that time. There was a good-sized cellar next to the kitchen and plenty of room for the servants.

The owner was not keen to sell to foreigners and only agreed after protracted negotiations. Then there was a further delay because the owner died, but finally the formalities were settled. Mathilde hoped to settle in Paris and open her studio for the winter season, but they did not have enough money for the move and the necessary repairs to the new house.

Villa Alam was sold and on 4 February 1929 they left Cap d’Ail. The following day they settled into their new home at 10, Villa Molitor in the 16th Arrondissement of Paris.

It was a new beginning and Mathilde would rise to the challenge.

Fifteen

T
HE
Q
UEEN OF
R
USSIAN
B
ALLET

N
umber 10 Villa Molitor, in the Auteuil district of Paris, was set in a small tree-lined avenue of rather modest houses in long front gardens. A visitor recalled that it was

like a tiny piece of St Petersburg … On the walls of the drawing room and dining-room was a motley collection of knick-knacks exemplifying St Petersburg life, photographs of royalty, paintings, portraits, embroideries, and even a photograph of Lenin’s soldiers lying in [Mathilde’s] drawing room with their hobnailed boots despoiling the beautiful silk-lined wallpaper.
¹

Once settled into their new home Mathilde’s priority was to equip the studio, which she was only able to do with the generous financial help of friends. Lydia Kyasht reported rather over-optimistically: ‘It is to be organised on the most up-to-date lines, and will possess its own swimming bath and manicure and beauty salons on the premises…’
²

The studio at 6 avenue Vion Whitcomb was approached up a small curved staircase. It was a maisonette, with classes on the lower level and a curtained balcony area, dressing room and bathroom upstairs. A window looked out on to the back garden. Also at the back of the studio was a small rest room with a bed for Mathilde.
³
As pianist she engaged Ekaterina Wasmoundt, a former professional with a large classical repertoire, whose husband General Vladimir Wasmoundt was a friend of Andrei’s. The General’s father had once been a personal adjutant to Grand Duke Vladimir. Mathilde and Andrei often socialised with the Wasmoundts.

The ‘Studio of Princess Krasinsky’ advertised ‘courses of classical, character and rhythmical dance. Mime. Ensemble. Private lessons. Improvement.’
⁴
It was blessed by Metropolitan Eulogius on 26 March and on 6 April 1929 Mathilde gave her first lesson. The pupil was
Tatiana Lipkovska, who was soon joined by Chaliapin’s daughters Marina and Daria.

With competition from the studios of Egorova, Trefilova and Preobrajenska, Mathilde had few pupils between April and the end of the school year in July. Alexandra Danilova recalled that ‘Kschessinska’s classes were primarily a social event, filled with people who had come to see who she was. Everyone in the Diaghilev company went to either Egorova or Trefilova.’
⁵

This short interlude gave Mathilde a chance to assess her strengths and weaknesses before the new school year began in September.

On 19 August Sergei Diaghilev died suddenly in Venice. This was a blow, both personal and professional, as Mathilde hoped that her school would provide dancers for Diaghilev’s company. He had visited Mathilde that spring when the company were giving a season at the Théâtre Sarah Bernhardt in Paris. Despite their many differences, Diaghilev had described Mathilde as a worthy adversary.
⁶
She sincerely mourned the loss of this unique man who had given so much to ballet and the world.

A few weeks later Mathilde bumped into Prince Sergei Volkonsky. It was twenty-eight years since he had resigned over the ‘affair of the hoops’. All differences put aside, Volkonsky became a regular guest for lunch at Villa Molitor and frequently came to watch Mathilde’s classes. He even gave a lecture on ‘Movement in dancing, mime and musical mime’ to the pupils and a few selected guests.

Classes resumed on 3 September 1929 and despite the competition there was a constant attendance of thirty pupils. Although the majority were Russian, there were soon English, French, American, Turkish and even Egyptian children. At first Mathilde took boys as well as girls because she could not afford to turn anyone away. Arnold Haskell, who Prince Volkonsky brought along one day to watch, called her class ‘one of the finest I have ever seen; very personal, stimulating and a definite artistic experience. Kschessinska has given herself to her work with intense enthusiasm, working and dancing with her pupils, sometimes for eight hours a day.’ One great quality that Mathilde imparted to her pupils was presentation – ‘the true showmanship that is found in all the great artists of the world. It is a grace, a musicality, an instinct of when to cut a movement, a feeling of climax and dramatic impact.’
⁷

The girls always curtseyed to Mathilde and referred to her as ‘the princess’. In the early years Andrei swept the studio floor, kept the
attendance register, sent out the bills and dealt with the financial side of the business. The pupils remembered him as ‘tall and elegant’.
⁸

In May 1930 Anna Pavlova came to watch the class. The girls offered her flowers and she admired their evident progress. Despite former reservations about Mathilde’s teaching capabilities Pavlova kissed and congratulated her as she left. Another visitor was Cyril’s wife Victoria, who came several times with her daughters Marie and Kyra, and also brought her sister Princess Beatrice of Orléans.

On 31 December 1929 Mathilde visited the Paris Opéra to see Serge Lifar in
Prométhée
. Soon afterwards he became Mâitre de Ballet at the Opéra. His appointment was beneficial to Mathilde. Lifar sent the most promising pupils from the Opéra Ballet School to the former ballerinas teaching in Paris. Irina Baranova, Tamara Toumanova and Yvette Chauviré were just three of those who benefited from Mathilde’s coaching. Lifar was a frequent guest at Villa Molitor and became almost a member of the family. If he was in Paris, Mathilde never failed to invite him for Easter. She frequently attended performances of his new works and later helped him stage the second act of
Swan Lake
.

Despite the early success of the school 1930 was not a good year for Mathilde’s family. Joseph, now sixty-two, was dismissed from his teaching post at the Leningrad Choreographic Academy for writing to Mathilde. From now on his letters were addressed to Julie. Only his interest in hunting kept him going and he was appointed President of Dog Shows.

Thanks to the gift of 300 roubles from Mathilde and Julie, Joseph and his daughter had been able to join a touring dance company but had to give up when they caught malaria and typhoid. Joseph’s wife and son were living in a small town in the provinces, he had not seen them for four months and could not afford to bring them back to Leningrad. Joseph and young Celina’s only income now came from giving concerts but some of their costumes and clothes had been stolen. Joseph paid a lot of money for just two rooms in his old flat. The remaining valuables had been pawned and were in danger of confiscation by the State. Life was hard and Joseph sometimes considered suicide. A letter in 1929, telling Mathilde and Julie that ‘we did not celebrate Christmas Eve, we did not cook anything, there was nothing to cook, and anyway celebration would be useless’,
⁹
was followed by worse news.

Joseph’s wife Celina and son Romauld had moved to a village north of Moscow where the famine soon reached them. By June 1930 Celina was very ill with pneumonia, complicated by kidney and heart
disease. She had been unconscious for a month but Joseph could not go to her because he now had a job. Celina’s death on 20 June, aged forty-eight, left him devastated. She was buried in the Novodevichy cemetery.
¹⁰
His dogs, letters from his sisters which helped him forget his loneliness, and a small monthly payment from Mathilde and Julie helped Joseph to survive. Even after this length of time his letters make harrowing reading and it is easy to imagine the effect they had on his sisters in Paris.