Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs (2 page)
Read Imperial Dancer: Mathilde Kschessinska and the Romanovs Online
Authors: Coryne Hall
Every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders. We will be happy to correct any errors and make suitable acknowledgement in a future edition. All efforts to trace the copyright holder of
Dancing in Petersburg: the Memoirs of Kschessinska
by Princess Romanovsky-Krasinsky (translated by Arnold Haskell and published by Victor Gollancz in 1960) have proved unsuccessful.
Dancing in Petersburg
was reprinted by Royalty Digest in 1999 and extracts are quoted here by kind permission of Paul P.B. Minet.
Photographs from the Legat Foundation Collection are reproduced by kind permission of the National Arts Education Archive, University of Leeds, Bretton Hall Campus, West Bretton, Wakefield.
My special thanks to Dr William Lee, Prince David Chavchavadze, and the Estate of the late Paul Ilyinsky for permission to quote from the diaries of Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich. Prince David and Dr Lee not only translated the entries for the paperback edition of this book but provided many helpful comments and explanations.
Last, but by no means least, thanks to my husband Colin, who for the past three years has lived with the Romanovs
and
the Imperial
Ballet. He has sat through several re-stagings of Mathilde’s ballets at Covent Garden, endured many more hours on video, coped with a multitude of currency conversions and read numerous drafts of the text. He had faith in the project from the beginning and without his comments, support and encouragement it would never have been completed.
R
ussians used the Old Style Julian Calendar until 1 February 1918. This was twelve days behind the West in the nineteenth century and thirteen days behind in the twentieth century. I have used the OS Julian Calendar until 1 February 1918 unless otherwise indicated, and the NS Gregorian Calendar thereafter.
The Russian Orthodox Christmas was celebrated in January and even in emigration Mathilde adhered to this custom, often observing the Catholic Christmas in December as well.
I have used the spelling of Russian names most familiar to English-speaking readers. To avoid confusion between Mathilde’s mother and sister, both called Julia, I have referred to her sister as Julie throughout. In Russia Mathilde was known as Matilda. I have used the name she was known by during the emigration and under which she wrote her memoirs – Mathilde Kschessinska.
The titles Emperor, Empress, Tsar and Tsarina are all correct and are used interchangeably. The eldest son of the Tsar was the Tsarevich, other sons were Grand Dukes. Daughters were Grand Duchesses. From 1886 the title of Grand Duke/Duchess was limited to the sovereign’s children and grandchildren in the male line only; great-grandchildren of the sovereign were Prince or Princess.
Russians have three names – their Christian name, patronymic (their father’s name) and their surname. Mathilde was therefore Matilda Felixovna Kschessinska. Alexander III’s daughters were Xenia and Olga Alexandrovna; their brothers were Nicholas, George and Michael Alexandrovich. Nicholas II’s eldest daughter was Olga Nicolaievna. The surname Romanov was hardly used at all.
Until 1917 the exchange rate remained stable at 10 roubles to £1. Between 1917 and 1919 the exchange rate was roughly 15 roubles to £1.
Introduction
I
n December 1971 an old woman lay dying in the 16th Arrondissement of Paris. As a young girl she had enjoyed romantic troika rides, and passionate nights, with the future Tsar Nicholas II. She partnered the great Vaslav Nijinsky on the stage, notably at Covent Garden in 1911, amassed great wealth and became a force to be reckoned with in the Imperial Theatres. After the revolution the Bolsheviks requisitioned her mansion and Lenin made speeches from the balcony. Forced to flee, she left almost everything behind – except her instinct for survival. Now, just eight months short of her 100th birthday, Mathilde Felixovna Kschessinska, Princess Romanovsky-Krasinsky, was one of the last links with Tsar Nicholas II and the Imperial court of Russia.
So many myths have been published about Mathilde Kschessinska that she has become the stuff of legend. It is said that Nicholas II built her a magnificent house in St Petersburg, connected by a secret passage to the Winter Palace across the river to enable him to visit unnoticed. Her jewels, worth millions of roubles (presents from the Grand Dukes, which she flaunted on stage even when dancing the beggar woman in
Paquita
) were lost on the gaming tables of Monte Carlo; the window latches on her mansion were reputedly made of gold and ordered from Paris; and her country dacha had its own private electricity supply. More recently, it has been claimed that a hoard of Romanov treasure, gifts from the Tsar, lies buried under her former St Petersburg home (now the Museum of Russian Political History). Only some of these statements are true, but the fact that they have been written at all shows the continuing fascination with the life of Mathilde Kschessinska.
Pictures of Kschessinska convey little of this vivacious personality. The long exposure time required for photographs, which even as late as 1910 forced Mathilde to hold poses for several minutes, gives a lifeless quality to pictures of her dancing. She was not a beauty, yet
everyone agrees that she had a magnetic stage presence. According to contemporaries she was tiny, with a sturdy frame and muscular, almost athletic legs. Kschessinska’s fascination lies in her spiciness, flirtatious nature and the air of scandal with which she was almost always surrounded. She adored roulette, diamonds, caviar, pineapples and oysters. Above all, Mathilde loved life and loved to flirt, even in old age. ‘She loved ballet in particular and life in general,’ said a former Moscow ballerina.
1
Mathilde staged her whole life like a gala performance, in which she was always the star. She loved parties, masquerade balls, entertaining and, of course, the privileges of wealth. Intelligent, dynamic and strong-willed, Mathilde knew what she wanted and how to get it. From an early age she was almost obsessed by the Imperial family and was determined to become associated with them by any means possible. Her memoirs are a fantasy, in which she triumphs in every ballet and overcomes every petty intrigue (spun, of course, out of envy!) with the help of the Tsar. She claims to be everybody’s friend (especially Diaghilev and Fokine) and the fairy godmother of rising ballet stars such as Pavlova, Karsavina and Nijinsky. The list of diamonds, rubies and emeralds is rivalled only by the enthusiastic reviews of her performances, which she quotes in full. Even these are not what they seem – most critics flattered Mathilde out of fear, because of her powerful connections.
When Kschessinska published her autobiography in the 1960s she became famous to a new generation as the mistress of the future Nicholas II and now appears in almost every book on the last Imperial family – but the real story lies in what Mathilde did
not
say. The memoirs were Mathilde’s revenge against a world which had destroyed her opulent lifestyle.
‘She was the Maryinsky’s Prima Ballerina until 1917, and nobody has written her biography.’ These words, spoken by the art historian Eiba Norkute in a 1995 documentary,
2
finally convinced me that I had to fulfil my long-held ambition to write about Mathilde Kschessinska.
My interest in Kschessinska was inspired by my own ballet training and my absorption with Russia, the country where my great-grandmother, although of English parentage, was born. Above all it was inspired by the personality of Mathilde, a born survivor with inexhaustible energy. Yet sorting fact from fiction has been no easy task. What was she – an innocent victim of a love doomed to have
no happy ending, or a scheming virago determined to enrich herself at every opportunity, no matter who she trampled on along the way? And who
was
the father of her son? These are just some of the many intriguing mysteries about Mathilde’s life. In many respects the answers are not necessarily black or white; readers will have to draw their own conclusions as there is no definite proof available.
As there is no biography of Mathilde, even in Russian, the main sources for her life remain her own memoirs
Dancing in Petersburg
and the slightly differing Russian edition
Vospominaniia
. These have formed the basis for any mention of Mathilde in numerous books – but contemporary letters and diaries, including some of Mathilde’s early attempts at her ‘memoirs’, tell a different story. Many of the well-known comments (‘Be the glory and the adornment of our ballet’, to mention just one) do not appear in the many revisions of her early memoirs written before she left Russia; nor does the often-quoted text of the Tsarevich’s letters. These were conveniently remembered in the 1950s when the trappings of wealth had gone and she was writing her autobiography in Paris.
3
She was the Imperial Ballet’s first ‘star’ – yet her connections with the hated Romanovs ensured that Kschessinska’s name remained taboo in Russia during the Soviet era. The opening up of the former Soviet Union has now enabled historians to access much new information. With the help of this it has finally become possible to reveal the real story of Mathilde’s life. Entries in Nicholas II’s diaries for 1892–4, previously unavailable in English, have thrown new light on his feelings for the young ballerina. Archives in America and private collections in England have also yielded a treasure trove of previously un-published information, particularly relating to her final years.
The full story of Mathilde Kschessinska’s life has never been told before. It is a fascinating tale of love, wealth, power, sheer determination to succeed and, above all, survival.
One
T
heatre Street, an elegant little precinct lined with pretty yellow and white neoclassical buildings, lay almost secluded from the outside world. Tucked away behind the Alexandrinsky Theatre in St Petersburg, its cobbles were seldom disturbed by carriage wheels or footsteps. Along one side were the Lord Chamberlain’s office and various government ministries. On the opposite side, a heavy wooden door concealed the Imperial Ballet School.
The cloistered life of its pupils was interrupted once a year for the graduation performance, usually attended by the Tsar and members of the Imperial family. This was the most important event in the pupils’ lives. On their performance that day reputations could be made – or lost.
One of the star graduates on 23 March 1890 was seventeen-year-old Mathilde Kschessinska, a small, vivacious girl with dark, laughing eyes. ‘I can’t say that I awaited the evening with great anticipation, it was actually all the same to me if the Tsar’s family came or not,’ Mathilde wrote in a heavily edited unpublished account. ‘I was only excited that we got three days off. Yes, that’s what I thought during the day, but before the performance, I changed my mind.’
1
Despite this attempt to remain unruffled, marks were awarded by a distinguished panel of judges, so Mathilde knew that competition would be fierce.
After the performance the pupils, teachers and management of the Imperial Theatres administration stood in the rehearsal hall to await presentation to the Imperial family. ‘My excitement reached its ultimate bounds and it seemed that I wouldn’t have strength to wait any longer,’ Mathilde wrote.
2
Then the giant figure of Tsar Alexander III strode into the room accompanied by his tiny wife Empress Marie Feodorovna, their eldest son Tsarevich Nicholas and other members of the Imperial family who would have a significant effect on Mathilde’s later life.
The Tsar defied the tradition that the boarders be presented first. ‘Where is Kschessinska?’ he bellowed in his powerful voice.
3
‘I couldn’t even describe the ecstasy I experienced when the Tsar first turned to me. Oh!’ she wrote breathlessly.
4
As Mathilde curtseyed the Tsar held out his hand and said: ‘Be the glory and the adornment of our ballet!’
5
For Mathilde, as she kissed the Empress’s hand, the whole thing was like a dream.
That night, with the Tsar’s words still ringing in her ears, Mathilde said she was ‘overwhelmed by what had just happened’. Yet in the unpublished account, written before she left Russia, the Tsar’s comment does not appear.
6
Whether Alexander III uttered the famous line or not, ‘glory’ and ‘adornment’ proved to be appropriate words. Mathilde Kschessinska would strive and intrigue until she reached the pinnacle of glory in the Imperial ballet, and collect adornment in the way of gifts from three Grand Ducal lovers to the value of millions of roubles. She fulfilled Alexander III’s command in a far more spectacular way than he could ever have imagined, and along with glory and adornment came two more ingredients – power and influence.
So began a chain of events that would dominate the whole of Mathilde’s long life.
The stage was in her blood. Mathilde’s grandfather Jan Kschessinsky was one of the great artists of the Polish theatre, the principal tenor with the Warsaw Opera as well as a virtuoso violinist and superb actor. The family claimed descent from the Polish Counts Krasinsky (or Krasinski), who in the nineteenth century received the hereditary title of ‘Count’ in Prussia, France, Russia and Austria. In 1824 they were authorised to bear the title of ‘Count Krasinsky’ in Poland. In fact, there appears to be no documentary evidence to link Mathilde’s family with the Counts Krasinsky and the story that her family were deprived of their rightful inheritance by an unscrupulous relative was probably invented by Mathilde to enhance her status as a hereditary noblewoman.
