Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs (52 page)

The quarrel was eventually made up and they continued to correspond. Then Julie broke her leg, which was another worry because after Ludmilla’s death Mathilde refused to have any other help in the house. ‘Everything she did I am doing myself,’ she told a friend.
⁵¹
Mathilde and Andrei were a familiar sight around Paris, she limping on one leg, he on the other. Andrei, wearing rather worn and threadbare clothes, regularly took his shopping basket along to the food market. One lady, whose family were friendly with the Grand Duke, recalled how as a young girl she tried to avoid meeting him on these occasions because she felt embarrassed at having to make a
révérence
in the street.
⁵²

Andrei liked to invite people over for dinner but, conscious of his rank, only asked those ‘of appropriate background or current standing’. With Mathilde so busy at the studio he liked the companionship of well-bred ladies, not for romance, but to ease his loneliness during Mathilde’s long hours teaching. He liked to play bridge, but now only for small stakes.
⁵³
Drinking seemed to play a large part in the entertainment when Mathilde and Andrei had guests. In an undated note inviting Pierre and Felia to dinner during one of their visits, Andrei added: ‘And inform us if you are going to drink. Because we need to refresh the alcohol stock which was lost … last time.’ One visitor was surprised by the sheer number of empty bottles lying around in the conservatory at Villa Molitor.
⁵⁴

On 14 June 1953 Mathilde was present when Nijinsky’s body was transferred to France from London (where he had died on 8 April 1950) for re-burial. With Olga Preobrajenska, Lubov Egorova, Serge Lifar and many stars of the Paris Opéra Mathilde attended a service in the Russian Church before Nijinsky’s remains were transferred to the Montmartre Cemetery. Mathilde laid flowers on his grave and sincerely mourned the death of a great dancer and talented partner who had also been a good friend. Lifar later had a statue erected on the grave showing Nijinsky in one of his most famous roles – Petrouchka.

Mathilde may not have known that during the First World War, while interned in Budapest, Nijinsky had amused himself by impersonating the Maryinsky ballerinas. His funniest impersonation was of Kschessinska.

Vova appears to have shown little inclination to take a wife. A story in Lydia Kyasht’s memoirs in 1929 that he was about to be married proved to be no more than a rumour. However, his name does seem to have been linked with the Swedish Countess Lilian d’Ahlefeldt, although how close they were remains unclear.

In about 1954 Mathilde invited Lilian to a reception at Villa Molitor. ‘Driving up to the porch, I was surprised to see a cavalcade of taxis parking there,’ Lilian recalled. ‘Many a driver was getting out of their cars clad in general’s uniform, with combat decorations. They were the White Guard
émigré
officers earning a living in Paris as private taxi drivers and their French was mixed with Russian phrases.’ It was at this reception that Lilian was introduced to Serge Lifar, and they remained together for over thirty years.

Mathilde was then annoyed because Lifar, who she had always treated as one of the family, had stolen Vova’s ‘girlfriend’, of whom they were all very fond. Also, when publishing his
History of Russian Ballet
, Lifar had ranked Kschessinska alongside Preobrajenska, which upset Mathilde greatly, and he intimated that Pavlova and Karsavina both threatened to eclipse Kschessinska at the start of their careers. Mathilde took issue with many of Lifar’s comments and omissions (including the fact that he did not allocate her a full-page photograph!) and for a long time refused to receive him, although Lilian retained Andrei’s friendship.
⁵⁵

John and Barbara Gregory had experienced various ups and downs since Mathilde’s visit to London, so she promised to go over for the 1954 Congress of the Federation of Russian Ballet.

Although Mathilde’s leg had healed Andrei was not well, so she was accompanied by Vova. This time the little crowd of pupils and teachers assembled at Victoria Station had a bonus. On the same train was the Duke of Windsor, arriving alone on a visit to England. ‘He smiled broadly to the small crowd who had gathered to cheer him as he left the customs shed,’ reported the
Evening News
. The papers then went on to report the arrival of Kschessinska, ‘a frail little 83-year-old [
sic
] woman in a smart Paris hat, who was once the favourite ballet dancer of the Czar [
sic
] of Russia.’ Mathilde was greeted by John and Barbara’s five-year-old daughter Paula, clutching a bouquet of sweet peas and roses and executing her best curtsey.
⁵⁶

Once again Mathilde sailed through a hectic week with her accustomed brio and within a short time of her arrival was busy talking to reporters about her ‘glorious past’. One observer was bowled over by her blazing dark eyes and ‘enchanting personality’, but Vova proved ‘a poor substitute for the Grand Duke’. By now he had dropped the name Krasinsky and was calling himself Prince Romanoff. He ordered a bottle of wine with every meal and made lengthy telephone calls to Paris (perhaps to Lilian?) every day from the hotel, all at John Gregory’s expense. He was not at all interested in attending their functions and spent most of his time at the Imperial War Museum.
⁵⁷

However, Vova did attend a midweek party at the studio, at which John Gregory ‘made an impassioned speech about the Princesse and the ideals of our Federation’. Afterwards, with a courtesy worthy of his father, Vova gave John his hand saying it had been ‘a charming moment’.
⁵⁸

Mathilde asked to see the Royal Ballet, so Ninette de Valois invited her to
The Sleeping Beauty
. ‘She was taken to the Director’s Box, there were some refreshments ready, champagne and snacks,’ Andrei told Felia. ‘After the performance she was invited on to the stage where the whole company was present to greet her. Margot Fonteyn was at the head of the company. She was so touched by such a reception at Covent Garden.’
⁵⁹

Mathilde went to watch some classes at the Royal Ballet School and visited Arnold Haskell. There was also a surprise telephone call from Nadine Nicolaieva, Legat’s widow, who requested a meeting. Mathilde invited her to tea at the De Vere Hotel, along with Tamara Karsavina.

The final event was a combined performance by the Federation’s Schools at which Mathilde again presented the certificates and Vova
‘excelled himself by sitting through the whole performance without a yawn’. He was delighted to have bought ‘masses of things cheaper than in Paris’.
⁶⁰
Then they returned home, Mathilde promising to come again for the 1955 Congress.

It was a promise she was unable to keep. Although by 1955 Andrei’s health had improved Mathilde had another fall. It was a long time before the injury healed.

More and more old friends passed away. On 28 February 1955 Gabriel died in Paris. He had been raised to the rank of ‘Grand Duke’ in 1939 by Vladimir and, after Nina’s death in 1950, he had married Princess Irina Kurakine.

Vladimir and Leonida sometimes brought their small daughter to tea. Maria liked Mathilde’s tame tortoise Rosalie. ‘The adorable animal would take tea with us, let us stroke her and even nibble the cakes which were lying around on the table!’ Mathilde insisted that Rosalie knew her own name and would come when called. Although this did happen once or twice, if Rosalie was a long way away they had quite a wait before she reached the tea-table.
⁶¹

Another visitor was Andrei’s cousin Grand Duchess Marie, who had returned to Europe in the late 1940s. An annuity from King Gustav V of Sweden enabled her to travel and she often visited Mathilde and Andrei. Marie could be a ‘difficult guest’, always arriving with a vast amount of luggage which included photographic equipment and a typewriter but she became very close to Mathilde, who called her ‘my best friend’.
⁶²

Mathilde’s memoirs had still not been published. Marie, a successful author, read the draft and encouraged Mathilde, offering to translate the manuscript into English. The Grand Duchess worked on the text for several months, until in the spring of 1954 she suffered a stroke and had to abandon the project. Andrei then took over but in 1956 Mathilde suffered yet another fall, which kept her immobilised for six months. The memoirs were shelved.

Mathilde was now eighty-four and Julie, at ninety, was still pottering about in the garden all day and enjoying the occasional glass of vodka. Andrei’s health was hardly robust and his sight was fading. In May 1956 he celebrated his seventy-seventh birthday, old by the standards of Romanov men.

Nevertheless, his sudden death on 30 October that year was a terrible blow to Mathilde and Vova. ‘Yes … The grief is massive and the blow was terrible,’ Vova told Felia.

Of course, during the last two years we could expect the end, but there were all reasons to think and hope that his life would last a few more years. For the last 8–9 months Papa was feeling better and better. In the middle of October he had influenza, it was very weak, but it exhausted him … But he got better and the day before the doctor found him in good condition. On the day of his death he said when he woke up: ‘At last after ten days of flu I feel very good.’ Twenty minutes before the end I talked with Papa. He was cheerful and absorbing.
⁶³

Andrei was just finishing a letter on his typewriter when he stood up and with the words ‘my head is spinning’ went to his room, lay down on the bed and died. ‘I ran after him but the end came immediately,’ Mathilde wrote. ‘It was so sudden and so terrible that I did not want to believe it. It could have happened when he was alone.’
⁶⁴

There was nothing Mathilde and Vova could do except pray. ‘God is kind,’ Vova commented. ‘He did not suffer and did not even know that the end was coming.’
⁶⁵

The drawing room was converted into a mortuary chapel. Andrei’s body lay in state for three days with a guard of honour provided by veterans of the old Russian Army. Hundreds of people attended the twice-daily funeral services. ‘During the requiem people were even standing in the garden,’ Mathilde told Felia, ‘it was impossible to get into the house. On the last night officers were on guard next to the coffin all night. The coffin was opened (we had permission). I sat all night next to the coffin.’
⁶⁶
For the first forty-eight hours the area was without electricity and the house could be lit only by candles. Later Mathilde told Margot Fonteyn about his lying-in-state and how she had received the condolences of 3,000 Russian
émigrés
without once breaking down.

Andrei was buried in the uniform of the Horse Artillery Brigade of the Guard, which he had commanded during the First World War. Crowds packed the church, the courtyard and the neighbouring streets for the funeral at 11.30 a.m. on 3 November. Among the mourners were Vladimir and Leonida, Grand Duchess Marie (who, despite failing health attended all the requiems) and Princess Irina Youssoupov, the Tsar’s niece. Elena sent condolences, as did the officers of all the regiments. There was a ‘very touching telegram from Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna from London and a wonderful letter from Olga Alexandrovna’, the Tsar’s sisters and Andrei’s cousins. ‘Of
course everything is very reassuring but Andrei is not here any more,’ Mathilde added sadly.
⁶⁷

The funeral was conducted by Metropolitan Vladimir, with many other members of the Russian clergy. Throughout the service Mathilde was supported by Vova and Vladimir. ‘After the reading of the service I was in the church for more than two hours while everybody was coming to me and Grand Duke Vladimir did not leave me. But I was holding on, I am strong and my tears dropped only when I was alone,’ she told Felia.
⁶⁸
Then Andrei’s coffin was taken to the small church, where it remained for two months before being moved to the crypt. Andrei, the last of the Grand Dukes born in Russia, had broken by six months the longevity record set in 1909 by Grand Duke Michael Nicolaievich.

‘With Andrei’s death,’ Mathilde wrote in her memoirs, ‘my fairy-tale life came to an end.’
⁶⁹
To Felia, she poured out her heart and said she only dreamed of joining Andrei. ‘He was exceptional and everybody, everybody loved him … I am not afraid of death but I cannot get there yet, I do not deserve it yet.’
⁷⁰

Andrei had been her right-hand man. Now, at the age of eighty-four, for the first time in over sixty years she no longer had a Grand Duke by her side. ‘Mama is holding on wonderfully, but poor thing is suffering and feeling unhappy,’ Vova wrote during the New Year of 1957.
⁷¹

Mathilde now had to face life on her own – without the Romanovs.

Eighteen

T
HE
F
INAL
C
URTAIN

B
y February 1957 Mathilde was back at work in the studio. She needed the money in order to survive – Andrei had apparently left her nothing in his will. Even during his lifetime the house at Villa Molitor had been sold and they were paying rent.