by Lisa Chaney
It is almost impossible to describe the perversity of Diaghilev’s entourage… I remember a rehearsal in Monaco, at which our pianist suddenly began looking very intensely beyond the music stand. I followed his gaze to a Monegasque soldier in a tricorne and then asked what the matter was. He answered “I long to surrender myself to him.”10
When Misia had got wind of Gabrielle’s philanthropy toward Diaghilev, she felt her role as the sole source of invention, especially if it had to do with Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes, had been subverted. Extraordinarily, she complained to Gabrielle about giving Diaghilev the finances to mount The Rite of Spring. Then, on hearing of Gabrielle’s further generosity, she said, “I am overcome with sorrow when I think that Stravinsky has accepted money from you.”11
Misia was fascinated by Gabrielle, and would remain so for the rest of her life. She understood, with that uncanny intuition, that Gabrielle was different — in her own way, completely original. But she felt that the great Diaghilev was her “property.” Now that Gabrielle’s own philanthropic acts had intruded on Misia’s territory, she was incensed.
Gabrielle’s creative success and distinctive persona were enlarging her position in Parisian society. While only the most up-to-date of the haut monde were prepared to socialize with this “dressmaker,” she was now meeting some of the most significant musicians, artists and writers then in Paris. With both the haut monde and bohemia curious about her, Gabrielle had allowed herself to be seduced not by another wealthy socialite but by an artist. This particular artist, Stravinsky, was no ordinary struggling composer, and Gabrielle’s affair with this towering figure was an intriguing and thought-provoking interlude. While sometimes denying the affair, she also said what was clearly closer to the truth for her: that “he was marvelous.” This relationship confirmed Gabrielle’s unusual ability to inhabit those two worlds that are, in many ways, mutually exclusive: the world of society, the haut monde, and the world of the artist.
This ability involved a tension at the heart of Gabrielle’s creativity, and was something she would have to negotiate for the rest of her life. Like all true artists, Gabrielle was obsessed with reality and functionality and, in turn, the peculiar relation of these to beauty. This was the unique position she was forging for herself in fashion: an unobtrusive functionality.
The artist in Gabrielle intuited that if an artist associates too much with power, the creative spirit can be sterilized. And yet luxury, which was an essential part of what she was promoting, is about exclusivity, itself inextricably associated with power. As a couturier, Gabrielle was dressing the rich and powerful, who used their luxury to exhibit their wealth and power. As an artist of simplicity and minimalism, Gabrielle was running into implicit conflict and confrontation all the time. She worked in the midst of a paradox. Yet unlike many of her artist friends, Gabrielle was not a rebel whose actions were based on destruction. Her fascination, even obsession, with youth and youthfulness emerged from a different motivation. For Gabrielle, youth was a vital, creative force, not a destructive one. In dressing the rich as if they were poor — in frustration, Poiret described this as her pauvre de luxe—she was forever walking a tightrope. A tightrope from which, nonetheless, she didn’t fall because, unlike the rebel, Gabrielle was not attacking culture.
An image of her has grown up over the years, originating in this period. It evokes a picture of an ignorant, socially meek woman whose powerful personality helped her rise to prominence as a designer because she had an instinct for the right clothes. Apparently, through Misia Sert’s tutelage and introductions, Gabrielle was able to meet and understand how to communicate with the artistic community. This picture is the one painted by Misia Sert for her own aggrandizement. It is an image perpetuated by all subsequent writers on Gabrielle. And it is nonsense. It implies that Gabrielle’s association with artists was simply a diverting pastime. In fact, her friendship with these people was crucial both to who she was and to the cultural influence she was already wielding.
Gabrielle did not become a person of artistic significance because Misia made her one. Misia wanted to know Gabrielle because Misia’s unerring sense of the creative possibilities in other people picked up on something in Gabrielle that was already there, something whose great force Misia described in her memoirs. The image of a slightly pathetic Gabrielle is one based on a veiled snobbery that subtly discounts both her tremendous intelligence and her remarkable character. With that unsettling capacity for self-knowledge, Gabrielle herself signaled how it was that her qualities had made her quite equal to the challenge of formidable success: “I was self-taught; I learned badly, haphazardly. And yet, when life put me in touch with those who were the most delightful and brilliant people of my age, a Stravinsky, or a Picasso, I neither felt stupid, nor embarrassed.”12 She went on to say that this was because “I had worked out on my own that which cannot be taught… It is with this that one succeeds.”13
When Stravinsky met Gabrielle, she already had achievements behind her that, for the times, must have appeared astounding. Although her modernity was expressed with great finesse, it would, nonetheless, have been seen by many as quite shocking. With a very few exceptions, the only women who were financially independent were those with inherited wealth. Among the most prominent of these exceptions were the courtesans and the actresses who had made their own money — but at what long-term cost? As we have seen, the ability of these women to act with real independence was severely curtailed by a series of powerful social constraints. One of the outstanding contemporary exceptions — regarded as an exciting stimulant, and a very dangerous one at that — was the writer-actress Colette. Colette had flaunted her outrageous difference for several years (as a bisexual who had lived with her female lover and performed seminude and in provocative female embrace on stage) and had transformed herself, through tremendous hard work, from being an entirely dependent woman to one who was financially independent.
One of the ways Gabrielle expressed her independence was in establishing friendships with the coterie of artists, writers and musicians that was making Paris the seat of modernist art. She felt most at ease with these people, whose work inevitably made them outsiders. For Gabrielle, the artists’ lives, and the way they were perceived, were not so very different from the courtesans’, living, as they did, both at the center and at the edges of society.
As far as we can make out, the day before New Year’s Eve 1920, Gabrielle and Stravinsky, and a number of these artists, were present at a party later recorded by Paul Morand. He tells how it “started again at Chanel’s” at rue Cambon. A buffet was laid out in the fitting rooms. A good proportion of upper Bohemia was present; several were to become Gabrielle’s lifelong friends. These included Diaghilev’s chief dancer Serge Lifar, Satie, the painter André de Segonzac, the sculptor Jacques Lipchitz, who in 1922 would sculpt a bust of Gabrielle, Picasso’s fellow founder of cubism Georges Braque, Picasso himself, the painter Luc-Albert Moreau, Jean Cocteau, his sulky teenage boyfriend Raymond Radiguet, the literary prodigy of the moment, Misia and José Maria Sert, Elise Toulemon (Caryathis), the outrageously modernist writer Blaise Cendrars, and several young composers, who came to be known as Les Six:
The presence of the Russians gave rise to a rather beautiful party… Auric [one of the members of Les Six] cracked his fingers on the piano and there was blood running down the keyboard. Jean [Cocteau] contorted, was initiating the Duchesse de Gramont in a broken Cancan… Drieu and Larianoff were shoring up the walls of an attic, Chanel, her legs in the air, was snoring on a sofa. Stravinsky was drinking his ammonia. J.M.S. [José Maria Sert] was taking a swimming lesson in the knocked over overcoats. Massine was doing things in the middle of the parquet floor, very quickly, on his own, then fell like a mass, and Rehbinder… was taking vodka for the Volga. Ansermet [Diaghilev’s conductor], whose beard Misia wanted to cut, had wrapped a towel around his head, and yours truly went home in the morning with no hat and no tie.14
Gabrielle’s per
sonal involvement in the great cultural shifts taking place in these years made her a most interesting woman. As someone also involved in the forging of a new world, irrespective of whether he spoke about it or not, Stravinsky cannot have failed to recognize, and find stimulating, this difference in Gabrielle. In years to come, Gabrielle’s undignified inclination to represent Stravinsky as younger and less sophisticated than he was may have come about in reaction to her virtual omission from future discussion of this period in his life.
While snobbery was at the heart of the musical establishment’s motivation here, jealousy of Gabrielle may well have motivated the woman who would take charge of constructing Stravinsky’s legacy. This was Vera Sudei-kine, who began her own affair with him shortly after he was rejected by Gabrielle and who would eventually become Stravinsky’s second wife.
Meanwhile, fascinated as Misia was by Gabrielle and Stravinsky, she was also piqued at their affair, and when an opportunity arose, she strove to bring about its ruin. Gabrielle and Stravinsky’s mutual friends could see how deeply he was affected by her, while Stravinsky’s wife, Catherine, accepted his neglect with almost superhuman grace, concerned above all for his own and her children’s welfare.
Misia now put it about that she was horrified lest Stravinsky should divorce his poor wife so as to marry Gabrielle. Sert next took it upon himself to “talk” to Stravinsky, informing him that Capel had “entrusted [Gabrielle] to me; and a man like you… is known as a shit.”15 While Sert “cultivated the anguish” Stravinsky was suffering, Misia heightened the emotional atmosphere by telling Gabrielle that Stravinsky was distraught, and wanted to know if she would marry him. Having stirred up this drama, the Serts were then highly amused by Stravinsky’s distress and spread the story among their friends, including Picasso. At last, Gabrielle begged for the drama to stop and for Stravinsky to “come back.” He did, every day. If Gabrielle did not feel the depth of passion that her Russian lover felt for her, her mind, her emotions and her intelligence had nonetheless become engaged in a new way. Apart from anything else, the compliment of having an intelligent and highly creative man in love with her must have been restorative after her tormented months of mourning.
Stravinsky’s very Russian soul was, in itself, an escape for Gabrielle from herself into an exciting mental and emotional landscape. Indeed, she would say, “Russians fascinated me. Inside everyone from the Auvergne [the place she sometimes chose to claim as her own] there is an Oriental one doesn’t realize is there: the Russians revealed the Orient to me.”16 Gabrielle said that she found “all Slavs… naturally refined.” She must also, in Stravinsky, have identified with the deep seriousness central to the artist’s life. For a woman who said, “Nothing interested me any more… nothing at all, only esoteric things,”17 her love affair with Stravinsky had helped her, secretly still mourning, to feel herself more grounded and alive.
It had also brought a measure of humor, albeit a mad Russian version, back into her life. Someone who was not close enough to be sure about the affair would later write:
There were rumors of a great flirtation between her and Stravinsky; nobody knows how far it went. All I know is that once, after one of her large dinner parties in the garden of the Ritz, she asked for a glass of water and Stravinsky, in a playful mood, or maybe in a fit of jealousy, filled a large glass with vodka and brought it to her. Coco drank the strong alcohol practically in one gulp, stood up, and fell on the floor. She had to be carried to her bedroom.18
Finally, when the Ballets Russes was leaving for a tour of Spain, Stravinsky asked Gabrielle to come with him. She said she would follow soon. Whether Gabrielle really intended going is uncertain because she allowed herself to be waylaid by circumstance, and Stravinsky was to wait for her in vain.
17. Dmitri Pavlovich
On February 9, 1921, not long after Stravinsky had left Paris with Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes, a young man recorded an evening with Gabrielle at the singer Marthe Davelli’s, with whom Gabrielle and Arthur had picnicked on the beach at Saint-Jean-de-Luz in 1915. Our diarist said of Gabrielle that he “hadn’t seen her for ten years.” Commenting that she “didn’t say a word about Boy Capel,” he said she was a most agreeable companion and was almost unchanged in looks. Gabrielle drove him home, “and we suddenly found ourselves on an amazingly friendly footing.”1
The diarist was Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, grandson of Tsar Alexander II and cousin of Tsar Nicholas II. No previous biographer of Gabrielle has had access to Dmitri Pavlovich’s diaries. But with them, we have been able not only to revise important aspects of their ensuing relationship but also to trace the course of a famed yet mysterious trip they made together not long after their meeting.
At thirty, Dmitri Pavlovich had already experienced a life of great upheaval. His mother had died at his birth and his father’s remarriage, eleven years later, had led to his banishment, so Dmitri and his sister, Marie, were placed with their aunt and uncle. Grand Duke Sergei loved his young charges, but the relationship became strained as they grew older. When this uncle was assassinated by an anarchist’s bomb in 1905, Dmitri was sent to a military academy; he was fourteen. The men he loved — his educational supervisor, his father and the tsar — through personality or circumstance, were all to thwart Dmitri’s need for a man he could unreservedly admire. As an intelligent young patriot, he combined traditionalism with what he saw as open-mindedness. Although wishing to serve his country in some significant way, Dmitri also felt inadequate to the task because of a lack of self-assurance.
In 1916, he was one of those involved in the conspiracy to murder the “holy man” Grigori Rasputin, whose hold over the tsarina had become deplorable. After hours of black farce, the assassins rolled Rasputin up in a curtain, tied it with rope and then dumped him in the river Neva through a hole in the ice. When discovered, Rasputin had survived poisoning and gunshot wounds, finally to die by drowning. Dmitri’s efforts at improving the situation in his country were largely frustrated. Camouflaging his shyness and any depth of character behind his good looks and the persona of a charming playboy, he always found it difficult to be taken seriously.
Rasputin’s murder led to Dmitri’s exile to an army unit on the Persian front. Thus, when most of the Russian royal family — including his father, brother and aunt — was murdered by the Bolsheviks in 1918, Dmitri was one of those few who escaped the slaughter. Throughout his life, great privilege had served him ill in his loss of every figure of significance, save his sister, Grand Duchess Marie. A life already filled with such loss may have inhibited Dmitri in the formation of close attachments aside from his sister.
Making his way to Britain from Tehran at the end of the war, Dmitri was permitted to take up residence. Here he studied in preparation for his possible future role as tsar. He also continued socializing, with a noted predilection for actresses and ballerinas. Dmitri’s sister described his life before the revolution:
He had had a large fortune with very few responsibilities… unusually good looks coupled with great charm, and he also had been the recognized favorite of the Tsar… there was no young prince in Europe more socially conspicuous than he was, both in his own country and abroad. He walked a golden path… His destiny was almost too dazzling.2
Dmitri’s breathtakingly privileged and yet isolated upbringing had left him badly equipped to make the changes necessary for a successful new life in the West. Like most of his fellow Russian aristocrats, in the revolution Dmitri had lost not only virtually his entire wealth, but he had also lost caste, to a devastating degree.
Marie described the aristocratic émigrés’ social lives: “the atmosphere that settled down around us had almost nothing to do with the people or the interests of the country we were living in; we led an existence apart.”3 All had lost family, and narrowly avoided death. And while they had usually been reduced to near-poverty, they didn’t speak of their losses or “the harrowing tales of our escape from Russia. Everyone tried to make the best of his presen
t situation… We managed even to be gay in a detached, inconsequential sort of way.”4
While Dmitri appeared to have adjusted to his new life, it was as if the energy involved in escaping (and losing) one’s country had left him, like many fellow émigrés, so emotionally reduced that he was unable, really, to begin his life again. Although many were still young, they had effectively withdrawn, living an impoverished version of their old lives. A few even allowed their transformation into celebrity pastiches of their previous selves: modeling clothes for couturiers or film acting, their noble blood touted as the draw. Only recently, Dmitri Pavlovich had turned down a lucrative film contract with Hollywood.
Meanwhile, in 1919, he had arrived in Paris from England, where he had pursued the beautiful forty-two-year-old American heiress Consuelo Vanderbilt, ex-wife of the Duke of Marlborough. Consuelo Vanderbilt described Dmitri as “an exceptionally handsome man, fair and sleek with long blue eyes in a narrow face, he had fine features, and the stealthy walk of a wild animal, moving with the same balanced grace.”5 But Consuelo quickly thought better of this briefest of liaisons and made a happy marriage to Jacques Balsan. Balsan was the famed aviator elder brother of Etienne, Gabrielle’s lover from Royallieu days.
For many years, it has been said that Gabrielle met Dmitri Pavlovich through Marthe Davelli, at Biarritz, in 1920. Thanks to Dmitri’s diaries,6 we now know that while Gabrielle and Dimitri did indeed meet throught Marthe Davelli, it was in 1921 and in Paris, not Biarritz; and Marthe Davelli’s 1921 dinner was not their first meeting. As Dmitri’s diary records, they had met ten years earlier, in 1911. No doubt this was on one of Dimitri’s periodic visits to his father, Grand Duke Paul, living at Saint-Cloud outside Paris.
