by Coryne Hall
In the summer of 1964 it all finally became too much and at the age of almost ninety-two Mathilde was forced to close her school after thirty-five years. The studio was sold for around £1,400 and Vova planned to use £350 of this money annually for the next four years to make up the deficit of Mathilde’s earnings. Unfortunately, the unnamed American then cut his contribution to £350 and Vova realised they would only be able to count on £1,050 to live on. The liquidation of the studio in 1965 yielded some funds but it was still not enough.
Their financial situation now became desperate. Rent for the house alone was £450 a year and the total expenses of the household amounted to £2,175, without any additional medical costs. Rumours that money collected for Olga Preobrajenska (and still remaining after her death in 1962) would be given to Mathilde proved false. Rothschild proposed forming a committee to raise funds for the 75th anniversary of Mathilde’s stage debut. Unlike Preobrajenska, Mathilde was not alone in the world so they could not mount a similar appeal.
On 5 May 1965 Julie celebrated her 100th birthday and a month earlier, 5 April, Mathilde celebrated the 75th jubilee of her graduation. Only a handful of people remembered, including ‘Grand Duke Vladimir, which is particularly moving and touching’, she told Howard Rothschild, who was also one of the few.23
That autumn Mathilde suffered a stroke which left her temporarily paralysed. Although she received an old-age pension from the Securité Sociale (about £800 a year at the time of her death) Vova visited Howard Rothschild at his Paris hotel to ask if he could obtain aid from any of the big American organisations. Rothschild promised to try, at the same time increasing his own aid substantially, but explained he was not one of the wealthy ‘de Rothschilds’ and could not do more.
Many of Mathilde’s former pupils kept in touch but her replies, thanking them for flowers or a gift, were now typed by Vova and signed ‘M.R.K.’ in a shaky hand. Her eyes were so bad that she had difficulty in signing ‘Malechka’ on a photograph for Howard Rothschild. Mathilde’s letters now had a repetitive character. She longed to know when Howard would return to Paris, thanked him for letters and gifts and reported on her health. Margot Fonteyn recalled with sadness the state of affairs when she last visited Mathilde: ‘the garden was unkempt, there was dust on the tables in the house and dead plants in the pots. As a result of breaking her hip she walked with difficulty, supporting herself from one piece of furniture to the next … An old retainer, an ex-officer of the Imperial Guard, tended the Princess as best he could.’24
Towards the end of 1965 Mathilde received $25 (£9) from the Literary Fund, thanks to the efforts of Howard Rothschild. Soon afterwards she became very ill. ‘For more than six months I had to keep to my room and spend the days entirely in my armchair or in my bed, because I was hardly able to take two steps,’ she told Georgia Hiden. Another lady, visiting with her American husband in 1966, recalled Mathilde lying in bed with a broken leg, her sister next to her and the two women quarrelling incessantly. Vova, the lady added, was a saint.25
In July 1966 Vova told Howard Rothschild that they needed another £600 in order to live.26 Meanwhile, Rothschild tried the Ford Foundation (which had recently funded Balanchine), the Tolstoy Foundation and several others. All he received was $35, just over £12, from a Russian organisation. There was little knowledge or interest in Mathilde in America where, unlike Pavlova, she had never danced. He therefore wrote to Diana Menuhin, outlining the problems – the additional burden of Julie, the necessity of employing Monsieur and Madame Georges to cook, clean and look after them, and Mathilde’s pathetic state after her stroke. In spite of all this, he said, she never complained and showed great courage. Rothschild asked if Diana could form a committee to help.
Diana knew only too well about Mathilde’s grim situation. She had visited the dilapidated house in May and came away feeling troubled. Mathilde and Julie, the former still paralysed, the latter nearly comatose, each sat in a chair in the tiny bedroom. Vova always brushed aside financial enquiries but on this occasion, with only enough to last them until August, he accepted the proffered money gratefully.
On one of her visits Diana brought the Russian cellist Mstislav Rostropovich to lunch. He was greatly moved at seeing the precarious state of Mathilde’s finances. Realising that he would not be able to take any foreign currency back to the Soviet Union he hid some money for Mathilde to find after he had left.27
In August 1966 Mathilde suffered another, milder, stroke from which she soon recovered. Later that month she was admitted to hospital for a fortnight of tests. The problem proved to be arteriosclerosis and the doctors were amazed at the old lady’s extraordinary vitality. Earlier that year Mathilde had told a correspondent that she was ‘young and spirited’.28 By November she was able to walk from her armchair to the table and then to the bed.
Now there were also hospital bills to be paid. Something had to be done.
Arnold Haskell suggested that, through Lord Hastings, the Royal Ballet Benevolent Fund (RBBF) might assist. Thanks to Diana Menuhin, who passed on Howard Rothschild’s plea for help, a £100 emergency grant was obtained for Mathilde from the Fund ‘as a tribute from British dancers on the occasion of the 75th anniversary of her debut’.29 Mathilde cried when she heard the news, really appreciating this present from the English Ballet of which she was so fond. At least this stopped her worrying about the hospital bills.
It was suggested that perhaps a gala performance could be staged at Covent Garden, and maybe Lifar would organise something in Paris. Markova, Fonteyn and Dolin all offered help. In December the Dancing Times published a short article about a fund to celebrate the 75th anniversary of Mathilde’s debut. ‘Friends, former pupils and admirers’, it said, had decided to contribute.30 Cheques poured in. Mathilde sent the Dancing Times a signed photograph with a grateful message.
In New York Dance News organised a similar fund, which netted £270. In January a former pupil took £50 to Kschessinska from British friends for the Russian Christmas. Mathilde told Georgia Hiden that she was ‘profoundly touched’ by all these marks of kindness,31 although in April 1967 Vova was still worrying that they had not yet received all of the money.
Although Vova tried to shield his mother from all difficulties and worries Mathilde remained lucid and was perfectly aware of their precarious situation. She was still ‘full of energy and to realise that she cannot do anything, even to read, is terrible for her’, Vova told Rothschild. Vova’s aim was to allow Mathilde to continue living in the same conditions as she had been used to but everything depended on the cost of her medical treatment and how much the anonymous American friend decided to give. As far as other people were concerned, Vova said, ‘it is better to let them think that we have not enough’.32 Rothschild had made a commitment to help Mathilde for life, and the money received from the Royal Ballet and Dance News would permit her to contemplate the future without worry, which was essential if her health was to be restored.
Mathilde still acted like a grande dame. One day she was greatly distressed at losing her wedding ring, insisting that a prayer be offered up. Shortly afterwards the ring was found when the cushions in her chair were rearranged. Mathilde immediately said that she must send 500 francs to St Anthony of Padua, although she probably meant old francs, as at the time 500 francs was worth about £368. (The new franc, issued in 1960–1 was the equivalent of 100 old francs.) As a visitor was leaving, Mathilde promised, if she fell ill, to send the fare so that the girl could come back.
It was agreed that money should only be sent in small instalments.
Once again thanks to Howard D. Rothschild and Diana Menuhin, more permanent help was soon on the way. The Royal Ballet Benevolent Fund asked for details of Mathilde’s circumstances. Diana spared nothing. First she mentioned the staff, old Monsieur Georges – who now had to carry Mathilde and Julie around and could earn a much higher salary elsewhere – and his wife Elizabeth, the cook. Then she described the small, dilapidated house which it would brea
k Mathilde’s heart to leave now. Then Vova, who earned only a minimal salary and went to work on an old bicycle with an engine attached because it was cheaper than taking the Metro. Yet despite all this, Diana added, the doctor still charged them fees. She also stressed Mathilde’s love of England and her pride in her English pupils.
The result was a grant of £400 for 1967, payable in four equal instalments in January, April, July and October ‘as a further tribute of gratitude to Princess Krasinsky from British dancers who feel they owe her, as a great dancer and teacher, more than they ever hope to return’. The money would be paid into Vova’s bank account as Mathilde’s representative.33
Mathilde was well aware of who were the two prime movers behind the RBBF’s generosity. She thanked Diana from the bottom of her heart for alleviating their financial worries. ‘Thanks to you for a long time I do not have to worry and can be calm,’ Mathilde told Howard Rothschild in December. ‘God bless you for your kindness, for your friendship.’34 She now signed her letters not ‘Princess Romanovsky-Krasinsky’, but ‘Mala’. By November Mathilde was taking a few steps around her bedroom. In March she was eating better but worried about Arnold Haskell, who was very ill in hospital. ‘I feel better and stronger and when it becomes warmer I am going to try to go down below into the garden,’ Mathilde told Georgia Hiden in May.35 Howard Rothschild came to dinner in June, Mathilde was able to go outside and all was going well. Then in September another blow fell.
Vova returned from his annual holiday at Plombières in time for his mother’s birthday on 1 September. The following week came news of the death at St Briac of Andrei’s niece Kyra, wife of Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia, aged only forty-eight. The shock affected them all greatly. Then Mme Georges, their cook for thirty-five years, died while on holiday. Monsieur Georges was devastated and Vova had to arrange the funeral. Luckily Vova was able to engage a young Russian woman from a good family as replacement cook. Although her wages were not high, they were more than those paid to the unfortunate Mme Georges, which added to their worries.
In October a young man called at the house with a bouquet of roses and £1,800, saying it was a gift for the princess from a lady in London. Mathilde immediately thought of Diana, but this time she was wrong. The gift had been sent by Margot Fonteyn.
Although the doctor was satisfied with Mathilde’s condition her rheumatic pains became worse as winter approached. The problem was the lack of central heating. Their own rooms were warm but the staircase and the ground floor were so cold and damp Vova feared his mother would soon be unable to come downstairs at all, which would rob her of one of her chief distractions. There was naturally no hope of finding money for proper heating to be installed. So far there had been no help from France, although the Fédération Français de la Danse Classique et Contemporain offered assistance following the intervention of Serge Lifar and there was eventually some aid from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Royal Ballet Benevolent Fund promised to continue their aid, although the position would be reviewed every year, and in 1968 the payment was increased to £500 per annum. Mathilde was profoundly grateful. Thanking Diana for her loyalty, Mathilde asked her to telephone so that she could hear her voice.
The anniversary of Andrei’s death was again approaching. Mathilde said sadly that she was hardly able to believe it was eleven years since his death.
The publication in 1967 of Robert Massie’s best-selling book Nicholas and Alexandra brought Mathilde to the attention of a whole new generation. Millions were captivated by the story of her romance with Tsarevich Nicholas but few had realised she was still alive. ‘Today, the young ballerina who rode through the snowy nights in a troika beside Nicholas II still lives in Paris,’ Massie wrote. ‘She is ninety-four.’36
It may have been the publication of this book that prompted Mathilde to become involved once more in the ‘Anastasia affair’. In 1967 she told Prince Frederick of Saxe-Altenburg that she would like to see ‘Anastasia’ again. The effort to prove, or disprove, Anna Anderson’s legal identity as Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicolaievna had dragged on through the Hamburg Court since 1958. After two lengthy hearings, the judge ruled that ‘the plaintiff, who has asked for recognition as Anastasia Nicolaievna … has not been able to provide sufficient proof for that recognition, any more than she was able to do so in the first instance’.37
In the early days of the trials Lilian d’Ahlefeldt had tried to sell a letter from Grand Duke Andrei endorsing ‘Anastasia’s’ claim. When Le Figaro refused to pay the asking price of a million old francs, Lilian took it to L’Aurore. The letter’s publication caused such a stir that Vova released another letter, written thirty years later, in which Andrei said he had ‘never been entirely convinced’. Lilian retaliated by stating that she had discussed it with the Grand Duke before his death and that ‘he was in terror of the anger of the family’. Matters had reached this point when, as Prince Frederick expressed it, Mathilde said she ‘did not want to die without telling Anastasia that she and her husband had never ceased to believe in her’.38 Some people even believed that Anna Anderson was Mathilde’s daughter fathered by Nicholas II.39
When Anna Anderson arrived at a friend’s home for the meeting she encountered not Mathilde but Vova. Deeply apologetic, he said the doctors had forbidden his mother to attend as they did not want anything to upset her. The truth was that Vova was afraid of his cousin Vladimir and had done everything in his power to prevent the encounter. Vova needed Vladimir’s continued goodwill. Vladimir and Leonida were now based in Paris for part of each year. Not only did Vova owe to him the continued use of his title, but they were giving Mathilde financial help to the tune of £225 a year. Vova could ill afford for this to be withdrawn. Mathilde’s motives are not so clear. A relative claimed to have seen a private family letter in which she maintained that the whole thing was ‘bunkum’, while Andrei spoke of questions that ‘Anastasia’ could not answer correctly.40
A fortnight later, in September 1967, the French film director Gilbert Prouteau arrived at Villa Molitor. For one afternoon Mathilde’s first floor room was turned into a film studio as Prouteau interviewed her for a documentary about the Anastasia affair, provisionally entitled Le dossier Anastasia. Bernard Lesueur of Le Figaro was also present.
In her house at Auteuil, among souvenirs of Andrei and faded portraits of the Imperial family, Le Figaro reported, Mathilde sat on a sofa facing the camera. Her hands were crossed nervously on her knees, her white hair caught up in a net, a shawl wrapped around her feet. After much negotiation, it had been agreed with Vova that Mathilde would merely give a cautious statement based on her ‘feeling’ and saying that she had noticed ‘a certain resemblance’ between Mrs Anderson’s eyes and those of the Tsar. Grand Duke Andrei had also been struck by the resemblance but this must not be taken as an endorsement of Mrs Anderson’s claim. As the cameras rolled Prouteau put his first question:
‘Princess, in Paris in 1928 you met the woman who at that time was called “the Unknown Woman of Berlin”?’
‘I saw her once.’
‘And what did you think?’
‘That it was she …’ Mathilde answered, in a voice calm, assured and lucid.
At that point Vova interrupted angrily. ‘Nyet! Nyet! Cut! You’ve got to cut!’ Then he continued speaking to Mathilde in Russian. ‘You must answer only what is written!’
The interview was resumed and Mathilde read the statement as agreed. When the cameras stopped running Prouteau left the sound machine on and enquired whether she was tired.
‘Not at all, not at all, everyone has been so kind,’ she replied.
‘You were great, Madame,’ Prouteau said, thanking her for helping to establish the truth. Yet Mathilde interrupted.
‘Now, I am still certain that it is she. When she looked at me, you understand, with those eyes … that was it, it was the Emperor. … It isn’t that I have to say anything, you know. No, it’s just what I think. … It was the exact same look. It was the Emperor
’s look. And anyone who saw the Emperor’s eyes will never forget them.’
‘And you, you knew those eyes well?’ Prouteau prompted.
‘Very well, very well,’ and gripping Prouteau’s hands feverishly, Mathilde became quite agitated as she insisted the woman was Anastasia.41
Prouteau then asked if she had known the Tsar’s daughters well. Mathilde explained that she had only seen them when they came to matinees at the theatre, although it had been difficult to see them clearly. ‘One saw them only in their box.’42
The programme was never screened. In 1969 the project was scrapped ‘when investors’ funds dried up’. Nevertheless in private Mathilde repeated her impressions of Mrs Anderson to friends. ‘Yes, I met her in the past. She had the Tsar’s eyes.’43
Mathilde’s health continued to fluctuate. In March 1968 she was able to move around her two upstairs rooms almost alone, consequently her morale was better and she was more alert. When she was ill during the summer Barbara Gregory sent flowers. Despite moments of feebleness, Mathilde soon recommenced massage on her legs. Meanwhile Vova was having treatment for his eyes, which hurt if he read and wrote a lot.
By December Julie’s health was causing concern. Early in January 1969 she fell ill and her body suddenly began to give up. On 6 January they celebrated the Russian Christmas Eve by lighting the candles on the tree and inviting a couple of friends to share the occasion. The following night, between 7 and 8 January, Julie died peacefully in her sleep. After the funeral service in Paris her body was taken to the cemetery at Cap d’Ail for burial beside Ali in the vault she had purchased over forty years earlier.
Julie, at nearly 103, was the last link with Mathilde’s past and her childhood. Nevertheless at first Mathilde bore up well. ‘For Mama it was a shock,’ Vova wrote to Howard Rothschild,
