Imperial Dancer

by Coryne Hall

  Mathilde decided to take Vova to the Rauch Sanatorium near Imatra in Finland, once again accompanied by Pierre Vladimiroff. Finland could be reached quickly and easily. The Finnish border, at Vyborg, was only 25 miles from Petrograd and the Grand Duchy of Finland was still part of the Russian Empire.

  A story later circulated that Mathilde, Vova, his tutor and Vladimiroff left the house after dinner saying they were going for a walk, ordering tea for 10 o’clock that night. With Mathilde carrying only a small handbag they then ‘disappeared’. When they did not return the servants reported Mathilde’s disappearance to the police. Then, when the situation was calmer, Mathilde reappeared saying they had been to a health resort in Finland for a change of air and rumours of her disappearance were false. During Mathilde’s absence her house was broken into and looted, and anything left was damaged. She estimated the loss at half a million roubles.47 As General Halle knew exactly where Mathilde was, this version seems to be a garbled combination of the trip to Finland in early February and her flight when the Revolution began.

  They arrived at Imatra on 8 February. The weather was wonderful, there was plenty of snow and they were able to go on excursions. The famous Imatra Falls were nearby. Like other visitors they could stand on the wooded banks and admire the sight of the gigantic rapids rushing with tremendous noise through the channel the water had carved through the rocks, then descend to the viewing platform to see the waterfall.

  After a week General Halle telephoned to tell Mathilde it was safe to return. Petrograd appeared calm. Prince and Princess Leon Radziwill were planning a party and, over dinner at the Embassy, the French Ambassador and his guests were debating whether Kschessinska or Karsavina should be awarded the academic palms for excellence.

  Although women were still queuing for hours outside the bakeries, life seemed normal and on Wednesday 22 February Mathilde invited twenty-four friends to a lavish dinner party. She brought out all her valuable objects which had been locked away at the beginning of the war. (These were naturally only the objects in continuous use. The largest and most valuable items were in Fabergé’s vaults.) Out came all the Fabergé trinkets – the large collection of flowers made from precious stones, a small gold fir tree whose branches shimmered with diamonds, a pink elephant, some enamel objects and a set of gold goblets. In fact there was so much that Mathilde phoned Julie to complain that there was not enough room to display everything.

  The table was decorated with silver vases filled with forget-me-nots and a real lace napkin lay beside each plate. From cupboards and storerooms came her dinner service of Limoges porcelain, ordered by Andrei in France, and a Danish service whose plates were decorated with images of different fish. The gilt cutlery, a gift from Andrei, was copied from two sets in the Hermitage which had belonged to Catherine the Great.

  The guests were of course ‘dazzled’ by all this finery in the midst of a war, Kschessinska wrote proudly,48 and after an animated meal they played baccarat until the early hours.

  It was Nero fiddling while Rome burned. The next morning the Revolution began.

  The people’s patience had reached breaking point. On Thursday 23 February, as the Tsar was returning to Stavka 500 miles away, crowds stormed the bakeries and helped themselves. Then they made for the centre of Petrograd. While Madame Roubtzova was checking the silver, glass and linen Vova burst in and announced that a large crowd was pouring down Bolshoi Dvorianskaya Ulitsa towards the Troitsky Bridge. There they joined other workers marching towards the Nevsky Prospekt, shouting ‘Give us bread!’

  The following morning more workers joined the protest but the atmosphere was still not dangerous and the Cossacks bantered with the crowd.

  By Saturday more than 200,000 workers were on strike. Public transport ground to a halt, there were no taxis and no newspapers. As workers swarmed through the capital carrying banners and shouting, ‘Down with the German woman! Down with the war!’ shops were looted and a policeman was shot by one of the Cossacks. Nevertheless, Mathilde went to the Alexandrinsky Theatre that night for the actor Youriev’s 25th anniversary performance, returning home without trouble. Only the sound of distant firing reminded her that all was not quite normal. Few others ventured out. At the Maryinsky that evening the violinist George Enesco played to an almost empty house.49

  By Sunday morning it was becoming obvious that the situation would not improve. Mathilde had already received at least one anonymous letter with threats of physical violence.50 By the afternoon the Pavlovsky Regiment had mutinied and General Halle repeatedly telephoned to warn that the situation was now very serious. Such was the feeling against Mathilde that he advised her to save what she could from the house and leave while there was still time.

  As lorry after lorry full of soldiers brandishing red flags drove past the house, Mathilde put her most valuable possessions into a small suitcase. These included her smaller jewels (the entire collection was reckoned to be valued at 2 million roubles),51 the Tsarevich’s letters, his last signed photograph and her father’s treasured icon of Our Lady of Czenstokow. Still she did not leave.

  All day Monday Mathilde could hear distant shooting on the Nevsky Prospekt as troops were ordered to fire on the crowd. By early evening there were explosions not far from the house. Mathilde, Vova, Pflüger, Pierre Vladimiroff and another dancer, Paul Gontcharov, sat down to dinner, but none of them could eat. It was becoming clear that they must leave the house as soon as possible before it was invaded by the mob. It would be dangerous for Kschessinska to remain.

  Mathilde wisely decided not to use one of her own cars, fearing it would be recognised. Sergei was still at Stavka but she had been a ‘frequent and well-known visitor’ to the New Michaelovsky Palace and was known by his staff. She therefore telephoned to ask for one of Sergei’s cars so that she and Vova could escape. However, her call was not put through to Sergei’s staff. Grand Duke Nicholas Michaelovich had already ordered all Sergei’s employees in the palace, ‘and in the spare house’, to ‘stop communications with the house on the Petrograd side’ of the city. This included the use of motor cars in the garage.52 Nicholas knew that Kschessinska was ‘extremely unpopular’ in Petrograd and he thought she had used and manipulated his brother long enough. He was also angry because Sergei had not written to him during his exile at Grushevka. Not only was Mathilde’s call not put through, but ‘when she pleaded for a motor car she was flatly refused’.53 This was probably the first time that a Grand Ducal household had denied Mathilde anything and it was an entirely new experience.

  There was no time to lose. It was already after 8 o’clock. Trying to look inconspicuous, Mathilde put on what she considered a modest coat – black velvet edged with chinchilla – and threw a scarf over her head. Someone picked up the suitcase, someone else seized hold of Djibi, who seemed to think he would be left behind. Then Mathilde Kschessinska, her companions and her fourteen-year-old son stepped out into the night.

  The next day Madame Roubtzova threw open the doors of the mansion to the revolutionaries. ‘Come in, come in,’ she said. ‘The bird has flown!’54

  Twelve

  ‘THAT TSARIST CONCUBINE’

  With no clear idea of where they could go Mathilde had to think quickly. Suddenly she remembered the actor Y.M. Youriev, whose anniversary performance had taken place a few days previously. He had an apartment in the Lidval Building at 1–3 Kamennostrovsky Prospekt, the road north towards Vyborg. Its apartments were described as grand.

  ‘While it was still night, a confused and lost M.F. Kschessinska appeared,’ Youriev recalled. ‘She had run from her palace, which was situated not far from my home – and now she was seeking refuge at my place, afraid of the excesses – and not without reason.’ The dancer Vera Yureneva remembered Mathilde ‘dressed in a pathetic coat and some kind of kerchief with her little son, her dog and a tiny reticule, which contained all that was left of her palaces and incalculable riches’.1 Youriev agreed to take them into his fifth-floor apartment until they co
uld return home.

  By the end of that day 200 people lay dead on the streets. Rodzianko asked the Tsar for concessions but instead he sent reinforcements and ordered the suspension of the Duma. By Monday things were no better. Firing continued all day, the Hotel Astoria was looted and most of the Tsar’s regiments joined the Revolution. There were now two centres of authority – the Duma, which continued in unofficial session under a Provisional Committee with Rodzianko as president, and the Soviet of Workers’ Deputies, with its own Executive Committee.

  The police were ordered to position machine guns on the city’s rooftops. Youriev lived on the top floor. Mathilde and Vova spent three days in the corridor, not daring to undress, because of the risk of stray bullets. Armed soldiers continually burst in, climbing up on to the roof to search for machine guns. They threatened to shoot everyone if they found any, so all large objects were removed from the windows so that the mob would not mistake them for guns. Meals were brought in from Mathilde’s house where, apart from Roubtzova and the cow-hand Katia, the servants had remained loyal, although Vova’s valet Koulakov disappeared. Mathilde declined the offer of some rooms in the SS Peter and Paul Fortress, fearing that a change of commander would make her situation impossible.

  After three days Joseph arrived and it was decided that Mathilde and Vova would live with him. Leaving her jewellery, which it would have been dangerous to carry through the streets, Mathilde picked up Djibi and followed Joseph on foot across the Troitsky Bridge. It was bitterly cold, a strong wind was blowing and Mathilde’s light coat proved inadequate but there was no other means of transport. Her two cars had already been requisitioned. By the time they reached Joseph’s twelve-roomed apartment at Spasskaya Ulitsa 18 she was chilled to the bone. (Although Mathilde said his flat was at Liteiny Prospekt 38, it is clear from family letters that he had moved in 1914.)2 Once safely inside she burst into tears. Although Joseph had a wife and two young children he did not hesitate to give Mathilde their best room.

  The Tsar, 500 miles away at Stavka, still did not appreciate the gravity of the situation. By Monday 27 February, power had passed to the Duma. All pleas to Nicholas for an acceptable government fell on deaf ears. Grand Duke Cyril marched at the head of the Marine Guards, a red rosette on his chest, his men carrying the revolutionary red flag, to pledge support to the Duma in direct breach of his oath to the Tsar. If Cyril hoped to gain anything he was mistaken. Rodzianko preferred to deal with the Tsar’s brother Michael. Many members of the Imperial family never forgave Cyril for his action, regarding him as ‘a coward and a traitor’.3

  The Tsar belatedly tried to return to Petrograd but the line was blocked by revolutionaries. He diverted to Pskov where, urged on by the Duma and the generals, on 2 March (Mathilde’s name day) Nicholas II abdicated in favour of Alexei. Later, fearing he would be separated from his sick son, he changed the deed of abdication in favour of his brother. Michael, advised that anti-monarchist feeling was high, then stated that he would not accept the throne until invited to do so by an elected Constituent Assembly. Mathilde could scarcely believe it. The 304-year-old Romanov dynasty had fallen.

  A Provisional Government was formed. Prince George Lvov became Prime Minister and Alexander Kerensky (a member of the Soviet) was Minister of Justice. ‘I never saw Petrograd look more beautiful – brilliant sunshine, cloudless sky, and yesterday’s snow not swept away,’4 wrote a British visitor.

  Yet Mathilde’s world had collapsed and her troubles were only just beginning.

  The Fates took a cruel revenge on Mathilde for remarking that she did not have enough room to display all her lovely things. When Roubtzova opened the doors to the mob the mansion was looted from top to bottom. Soon there were no lovely things to display. Kschessinska, the French Ambassador recorded, was ‘a symbol of the Imperial order. It is that symbol which has been attacked today.’5

  After ransacking the wine cellar they searched for Kschessinska. Failing to find either her or the steward they dragged the porter into the courtyard and stood him up against the wall. As his terrified wife watched from the window a firing squad prepared to take aim. Luckily, someone more responsible spotted the Cross of St George on Denisov’s chest and persuaded the men to let him go. His wife, who had a bad heart, died from the shock. Soon afterwards the mob abandoned the house. It was then occupied by another gang under the leadership of Agababov, a student from Georgia, who forced Mathilde’s chef Denis to cook and wait at table during his frequent dinner parties. ‘My champagne flowed in torrents,’ Mathilde wrote bitterly.6

  The Tsar, his wife and children were under arrest at the Alexander Palace, Tsarskoe Selo. Nothing was now too bad to be believed about the Imperial regime. Among the films cinema-goers could watch that spring were cheap pornographic productions such as The Secrets of the Romanovs, The Shame of the House of Romanovs [sic], and The Secret Story of the Ballerina Kschessinska. According to letters sent home from the front, the soldiers believed that ‘the Empress did not speak a word of Russian’, ‘the Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna [Miechen] and … Mathilde Kschessinska both passed on military secrets to the Germans’ and ‘Rasputin was a German agent’. Kschessinska, in particular, ‘was suspected of passing the secrets of the Russian artillery to the enemy’.7 This, of course, was treason.

  Newspapers that had previously eulogised Mathilde’s dancing now published stories with sensational headlines – 16 Poods of Silver from the Palace of Kschessinska [a pood was 16.38 kilograms], Espionage and the Ballerina, and Secrets of M.F. Kschessinska.8 She became ‘that Tsarist concubine’ who profited from her influence with Grand Duke Sergei, accepted bribes and backhanders and by this means acquired a fabulous fortune at the expense of millions of soldiers’ lives. Kschessinska was declared an enemy of the people and her love children, fathered by the Tsar, were rumoured to have been spirited off to Paris.9

  When performances at the Maryinsky recommenced on 15 March all the Imperial coats of arms had been removed from the building. The Imperial double-headed eagle on the programmes was replaced by a lyre, a diverse group of people occupied the Imperial box and liveries were replaced by dirty grey jackets. Kschessinska, that enduring symbol of the old regime, was conspicuously absent.

  At Joseph’s flat Mathilde was jumpy, responding to every noise and imagining soldiers coming to arrest them all. She was especially afraid for Vova, whose father was known to be a Grand Duke, although most people (including Vova) did not know which one. Ali had already been arrested and although he was soon released, Mathilde was worried. Nobody was told where she was staying. Boris was under house arrest because of an indiscreet letter from his mother. Cyril was still in the capital, the red flag flying from his palace. In June he secured permission to take his pregnant wife and their daughters by train to Finland. They never returned to Russia.

  The situation in Petrograd was alarming. Looting and arson were prevalent, Tsarist officers were murdered on the streets and people sympathetic to the old regime were arrested on the slightest pretext. The old order was completely disintegrating and Mathilde realised that all those she loved – Nicholas, the two Grand Dukes, her son – were now in acute danger.

  Sergei was still at Stavka. He remained there in ‘voluntary exile’ on the advice of his brother Nicholas Michaelovich, because of the ‘cloud of corruption that hung over him as a result of the Kschessinska scandals’.10

  Early in March Sergei received a letter from Nicholas Michaelovich demanding he break off all relations with Mathilde and make no attempt to see her or Vova again. Sergei refused, unable to contemplate life without Malechka, who had ‘provided him with a substitute of family life’.11 Sergei was distressed that his brother had not helped Mathilde in her hour of need. ‘It was very painful to find out about this,’ he wrote. ‘You know that I have been living with Malechka for twenty-two years (not physically but we live in one house and by one means),’ he added, possibly in an attempt to placate his brother by denying any physical relationship with Mathilde. ‘Of
course, you understand how I was worried for their safety. I thought I could count on your friendship, and … your support, so that in case of great danger I could ask you on their behalf to save them. What a terrible disappointment for my brotherly feelings … I really do not know what to think.’12

  Nicholas Michaelovich had spared nothing when telling Sergei what he thought of Mathilde. Sergei now came to her defence. He desperately wanted to return to Petrograd to see her and Vova, and dreamed of them all being together somewhere in the summer. ‘What you wrote about Malechka is awful,’ Sergei continued:

  I do not know who could be so angry with her. The reasons … could only be some private scores from the stage or stupid gossip. I swear on the icon that she does not have any crime behind her. If they accuse her of bribery that is all lies. I was dealing with all her business, I can show whoever needs it accurate details about how much money she has … and where it came from. I know that her house has been robbed … I can imagine how many expensive and artistic things have disappeared! Don’t you believe your own brother, who swears, but believe gossip from angry people? Everything of mine should go to Vova. And what are we now, beggars because of gossip from nobody knows who!

  He would not abandon his civil wife, yet Sergei’s main concern was for Vova, whom he still called his son. He had always been upright and honest and insisted he would remain that way.13

  On 20 March all court property, including the palaces and private estates, was transferred to the State. The Romanovs now ceased to receive their incomes from the Imperial appanages. A civil list was to be drawn up – one report estimated 30,000 roubles a year for Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses and half that amount for princes of the blood.14 This meant a considerable reduction in style. Sergei’s income in 1917 was 280,000 roubles a year, plus income from his estates. Sergei had many employees and complained that he would ‘now have only 41,000 [roubles] and Mala approximately the same’.15