Dancing in Petersburg: The Memoirs of Kschessinska - Prima Ballerina of the Russian Imperial Theatre, and Mistress of the future Tsar Nicholas II

by Mathilde Kschessinska

Судьба знаменитой балерины, неповторимой и загадочной Матильды Кшесинской, подруги наследника престола и жены великого князя, не перестает привлекать к себе внимание. В мемуарах, которые она ­написала вместе с мужем, великим князем Андреем Владимировичем, Кшесинская знакомит с семейными преданиями и рассказывает о наиболее ярких эпизодах своей творческой судьбы в России и в эмиграции.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Biography, Russia, Royalty, Romanovs, Russian History

232 pages, Paperback

Published January 1, 1961

About the author

Mathilde Kschessinska, Kschessinska also spelled Kshessinska, Russian in full Mathilda-Maria Feliksovna Kshesinskaya (born August 19 [August 31, New Style], 1872, Ligovo, near Peterhof, Russia—died December 7, 1971, Paris, France), prima ballerina assoluta of the Imperial Russian Ballet and the first Russian dancer to master 32 consecutive fouettés en tournant (“whipped turns” done in place and on one leg), a feat previously performed only by Italian dancers and considered in that era the supreme achievement in dance technique.

Kschessinska studied under Christian Johansson and Enrico Cecchetti at the Imperial Ballet School in St. Petersburg, graduated in 1890, and joined the Mariinsky Theatre. In 1895 she became prima ballerina assoluta, a title awarded by the Imperial Ballet to only one other dancer, the Italian Pierina Legnani. Kschessinska interpreted major roles in Cinderella, La Sylphide, Esmeralda, The Nutcracker, and The Sleeping Beauty. In 1911 she danced in London with Vaslav Nijinsky in Swan Lake for Serge Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes.

Kschessinska was a close friend of both Nicholas II, who was executed in 1918, and his cousin the grand duke André, whom she married in 1921. She left Russia in 1920 and, for 30 years, taught in Paris; her pupils included Tatiana Riabouchinska and Margot Fonteyn. Her autobiography is Souvenirs de la Kschessinska (1960; Dancing in Petersburg: The Memoirs of Kschessinska.

Reviews

[Olesya Gilmore · Rating 5 out of 5]

Really unique memoir, from the famous prima ballerina of the Imperial Theatre and mistress of the yet unmarried future Tsar Nicholas II. Particularly interesting were the parts describing Mathilde’s involvement with the Romanov family and her horrific flight from Russia during the 1917 Revolution and subsequent civil war.

[Anna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have never before read a memoir where the writer thought so highly of herself. Because of that, some parts have to be taken with a grain of salt (or two), but it was overall an interesting and amusing read. She was a very passionate woman and it translates in her writing. I especially enjoyed her anecdotes about the Imperial Ballet and the ballets she danced. But it's a book that's very difficult to find and tends to be expensive, so I only recommend it to people who are really, really interested in Kschessinska -- the parts where she mentions her life in Russia or the Romanovs have all been cited in other books, especially in her biography by Coryne Hall, which is excellent.

[Velia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I wanted to read this after I read the historical fiction book The True Memoirs of Little K. I got curious about Mathilde's real personality because she seemed to come off as full of herself in the fictionalized story. But it was fiction mostly, so I figured I should read her actual memoirs. WOW!

I got a kick out of her. I did laugh quite a bit at her vanity, but it was refreshing. She truly was an opportunist and used her dance skills and persona to elevate herself.

Overall, this memoir was great. I had a difficult time putting it down. The translation was wonderful; the story just flowed. Highly recommended.

[Katrina Sark · Rating 3 out of 5]

p.22 – Behind the Imperial Alexander Theatre stretched the wide but short Theatre Street, leading to the Tchernichev Bridge. This yellow-and-white ensemble in St. Petersburg Empire style was one of the finest in the capital. In Theatre Street there were none but official buildings. Starting from the Alexander Theatre on the right was the Ministry where the Lord Chamberlain exercised his functions; on the left whole street was filled by the magnificent Imperial Theatre School, whose walls were decorated with reliefs. The Alexander Theatre façade, its roof surmounted by three bronze horses, faced the Nevsky Prospect. Theatre Street was always very quiet. At most a coach carrying future dancers to rehearsals or performances sometimes passed through the large gateway. Even for such a short journey, at all times of the year, the School’s pupils only went out in these vast, old-fashioned vehicles, hermetically sealed, which never ceased to excite the curiosity of passers-by anxious to catch a glimpse of the pretty faces hidden behind the window. Every autumn, after a medical inspection and a strict test of their dancing aptitudes, children aged from nine to eleven were admitted to the School whose full strength was sixty to seventy girls and forty to fifty boys, all bound by the boarding school’s rules. When they had finished their studies at the Ballet School, the pupils of both sexes, now seventeen to eighteen years old, passed into the Imperial Theatre Company where they remained for twenty years, after which they could either retire, safe with a pension, or be re-engaged by contract. The Ballet School taught not only ballet but also general subjects, like an ordinary school. The curriculum covered seven years, but there were only five classes, two of which lasted for two consecutive years.
Although the School and Companies in St. Petersburg and Moscow were separate, they were considered to be a single ensemble depending on the Ministry of the Imperial Court and run by the Administration of the Imperial Theatres. The artists of the Imperial Theatres, both those of St. Petersburg and Moscow, appeared in the theatres of both capitals.

p.23 – As a rule parents preferred their children to enter as boarders at the State’s expense.
The girls lived on the first floor of the School, the boys on the second. Each floor consisted of huge dormitories and rehearsal rooms with high ceilings and enormous windows. The first floor also contained the little School theatre, very well arranged, with only a few rows of seats. This was where the graduation performances took place, which were later moved to the Michel Theatre.

p.44 – Petipa always spoke Russian, which he knew very poorly, despite a long stay in Russia. He called everybody “tu.” He usually arrived at the theatre whistling, wrapped in a check plaid. He prepared his program beforehand, and never improvised during rehearsals.

p.52 – For the summer I rented the first floor of a villa at Strelna, where I settled with my sister. I lived there like a hermit, isolated from the outside world, with neither the wish nor the energy to see anyone at all. The only thing I wanted was to be left alone. But I had to pull myself together to be in a fit state to appear during the summer season at Krasnoe Selo. At least I should have the consolation of seeing my loved Niki, even from a distance. […] But it was an unhappy, painful time.

The Peterhof Palace Theatre, built in 1745 in the reign of the Empress Elizabeth Petrovna, in place of an old riding school, had been rebuilt in 1857. For the gala performance it was completely restored, enlarged by meands of outside annexes and fitted with electric light.

p.53 – I was especially touched by the Tsarevich’s wish that I should always inhabit the house where we had spent so many unforgettable hours together. He gave it to me as a present, and I was deeply moved. For the whole of that summer I went for long walks in the shady alleys in the park which stretched from the sea to the magnificent palace of the Grand Duke Constantin Nicolaevich. This was how one day I came to see a charming dacha in the middle of a huge garden which extended to the sea. This large deserted villa was for sale. I thought it delightfully situated. Seeing how much I liked it, the Grand Duke Serge Mikhailovich bought it in my name, and I was able to spend the following summer there.
Strelna Palace was built in 1711 by Leblond, and rebuilt in 1804 in Gothic style by Russko. It later passed into the hands of the Grand Duke Constantin Pavlovich.

p.56 – I spent the summer of 1895 in my new villa at Strelna, hastily furnished. I had completely transformed my bedroom: the walls were covered in cretonne, the furniture ordered from Meltzer in St. Petersburg, the nest manufacturer in the city. I also had time to redecorate a little round boudoir with charming light wood furniture from Buchner.
Grand Duke Serge Mikhailovich spoilt me, doing his best to comfort and entertain me, to anticipate my smallest wishes. He had given me the dacha at Strelna. I had everything, but neither that nor even the Grand Duke’s friendship and affection could make up for my lost happiness. And although, in company, I tried hard to appear carefree and gay, when I was alone I could not help weeping as I remembered my first love.

p.63 – During the summer I became very keep on bicycling, and Countess Torbi, the wife of the Grand Duke Michel Mikhailovich, gave me a skirt designed especially for this sport. I particularly liked rifing in the park, on the lower road, which linked Strelna to Peterhof by way of Mikhailovka, the estate of the Grand Duke Mikhail Nokolaevich.

p.73 – A. Volynsky’s book The Mariinsky Theatre

p.105 – The appearance of Isadora Duncan in St. Petersburg made an enormous impression on the young dancer and future maître de ballet, M. Fokine, who at once began to cut out new paths for classical ballet. Fokine rebelled against fixed poses, against the arms raised like a crown around the head. Without rejecting the framework of classical technique, he wanted free expression of emotion.

p.107 – It was during the 1907-1908 season that I first appeared with Vaclav Nijinsky, who had newly graduated, in the spring of 1907, from the Ballet School. We danced Chopin’s Nocturne at the Mariinsky Theatre, and later in Moscow, at the corps de ballet’s benefit performance.

p.115 – Back at Strelna, I plunged again into building. There was no electric light in Strelna at that time, not even in the palace. I therefore decided to have a small private power plant built near the dacha, with a house for the electrician and his family. My visitors were very envious of this sensational innovation, which added greatly to the villa’s charm and comfort. Two years later, in 1911, I also had a small lodge built in the garden for my son, who was just nine. He had often complained of my many absences, due to rehearsals, and I had promised him, to make up, to spend one season’s salary on building this lodge, which comprised two bedrooms, a drawing-room and a dining-room as well as china, silver, and linen. Vova leaped with joy on making his owner’s round, but I suddenly noticed that he looked put out: the lavatory had been forgotten! And I had to promise him to put this right at the end of another season. I made my first appearance of the 1909-1910 season rather late, on December 13th, as the Sugar Plum Fairy in Casse-Noisette at a performance in aid of the corps de ballet.

p.163 – On February 22nd [1917] I therefore gave a dinner party for twenty-four friends, for which I brought out my finest Limoges service, my Danish service for the fish, and gilt cutlery copied from two sets belonging to Catherine the Great which could be seen at the Hermitage. This had been given me by André. The guests were dazzled by the dinner table decorated with forget-me-nots and real lace. It was my swan song in Petrograd, my last dinner party before the Revolution. I brought out countless precious trinkets and works of art which had been stored since the beginning of the war (among other things there was a superb collection of artificial flowers made of precious stones and a small gold fir tree, which branches shimmering with little diamonds). There were so many of these things that I complained to my sister I had not enough room to display them. The fates were to take a cruel vengeance for these words: a few days later there was nothing left to display.
The next day was the beginning of what everybody had been afraid of: street demonstrations.
The first three days, despite the disturbances, there was no thought of a revolution. On February 25th I went quite normally to the Alexandrinsky Theatre, where Youriev’s twenty-fifth stage anniversary was being celebrated with Lermontov’s The Masquerade, produced by Meyerhold. The audience was tense and nervous. There was a sound of firing in some quarters. But I was able to return without trouble.
On the 26th, a Sunday, General Halle telephoned me once more to warn me that the situation in the city was very serious, and that I should save what I could from my house before it was too late. He telephoned repeatedly all through the day.

p.169 – One of the soldiers in my house was a decent fellow. When my guide asked him why he and companions had stayed such a long time in my house, by way of answer he showed me the corner window, which gave an excellent view of the Troitzky Bridge and the embankment. He implied that this was very important for them. I now understood that they were probably Bolsheviks, and were preparing for another uprising. They did not want to give up a convenient observation post, which allowed them to watch the bridge, and if necessary, to hold it under fire.

p.173 – This was not the first time I had been back to my dacha since the Revolution. Everything had been turned upside-down, and much of the furniture was missing. The soldiers were always very polite and correct in their behavior towards me.

p.200 – The Italian liner Semiramisa was due to return to Venice. We could not have asked for anything better. We embarked on February 13, 1920. This was the day we left Russian soil, since the ship, though anchored in a Russian port, was foreign. After so many hardships, a first-class cabin seemed a place of incredible luxury! But we really thought we were seeing a mirage at dinner: clean table-napkins, glasses, knives and forks! We were rather embarrassed at having to sit at table in our shabby clothes: but when the impeccably dressed waiters began to serve us we felt as if we were in another world! Our state of mind can easily be imagined when it is realized that there was also the thought that we were at last safe, with nothing more to fear from the Bolsheviks! We remained six days in Novorossisk Harbour. There was the continental leading of merchandise, and the steam winches worked day and night. At last, on February 19th, the anniversary of the abolition of serfdom by the Emperor Alexander II in 1861, the Semiramisa weighed anchor.
Our feelings defy description. We were leaving part of ourselves in Russia, part of our lives, our hearts, and the wrench was the more intense for André because this was his last time in uniform. Of all the trails we had endured or had to endure, this was without doubt the bitterest and painful.

p.221 – The question of money had come up in crucial fashion from the very day of our life as émigrés. We had left Russia penniless, having lost all we had; all we had left was seven thousand francs in the bank at Monte Carlo. In the beginning we were able to make ends meet by mortgaging the villa. André received his share of the inheritance after the death of the rand Duchess Marie Pavlovna, but the time for selling precious stones was over, and we received a much smaller sum than we expected. André still had hopes of raising money from his real estate in Poland; but the final frontier arrangements restored that part of Poland to the USSR and this last hope vanished. I therefore decided to open a dance studio in Paris. But if I knew that I could dance well, could I also be sure that I could teach my art? Whatever doubts I might feel, however, I no longer had any choice.
Accordingly, in the autumn of 1928 we went to Paris to look for a studio and a flat. The agencies sent me all over town. I was determined to have a house with a garden, and it was also essential that the studio, while separate from the house, should nevertheless be fairly close to it. I finally discovered a studio in a building which was still under construction. Shortly afterwards we were found a small house in the 16ème arrondissement, No. 10 Villa Molitor, which is still our home today. The moment we saw the house with its little garden, we liked it.

p.223 – The first thing to be done in Paris was to furnish the studio at No. 6 Avenue Vion-Whitcomb. This called for certain expenses which, in our strained circumstances, I could not have met without the precious help of my friends.

p.224 – From May 22nd to June 12th 1929 Serge Pavlovich Diaghilev gave his spring season at the Theatre Sarah Bernhardt. We thus had the pleasure of meeting again and chatted, seated in my garden.
We were at Royat when we heard the news, as unexpected as it was tragic, of his death. He had died in Venice, on August 19th 1929, aged only fifty-seven.

p.227 – I began my second academic season on September 3rd 1929. The number of my pupils kept on increasing in spite of the lack of all publicity. I had realized, from the very first classes, that I could teach effectively and my enterprise soon took shape. The pupils understood perfectly what I wanted of them, while I felt that I had them well under control from the smallest to the oldest. What particularly fascinated me was working with the beginners, seeming them take note of my advice and a month or two later succeed in doing easily all that I had taught them.

p.262 – I had fourteen servants in St. Petersburg, four in my dacha (not counting the extra summer staff) and three at Cap d’Ail. Some of these will always remain in my mind with gratitude and love.

[Ania · Rating 1 out of 5]

Po tę książkę chciałam sięgnąć, ponieważ przeczytałam wcześniej "Prawdziwe wspomnienia Mali K" Adrienne Sharp i zainteresowała mnie postać Krzesińskiej. Liczyłam na bogatą autobiografię jednej z najlepszych balerin świata a dostałam....zbiór plotek, romansów, intryg, roztkliwiania się nad bzdurami, które z upływem czasu straciły na znaczeniu, podlany samouwielbieniem Autorki.
"Samochwała w kącie stała
I wciąż tak opowiadała:
Zdolna jestem niesłychanie,
Najpiękniejsze mam ubranie, " - ten wiersz tłukł mi się w głowie przez cały czas czytania i on najlepiej odzwierciedla charakter i zamysł Autorki co do tego pamiętnika. Zawsze była najlepsza, każdy występ kończył się sukcesem i pochlebnymi recenzjami, miała najlepszą technikę, najładniejsze stroje, najprzystojniejszych adoratorów, najlepiej ustosunkowanych przyjaciół, wszyscy ją podziwiali i jej zazdrościli. jeśli ktoś uważał inaczej był po prostu zazdrosny, złośliwy lub niesprawiedliwy......bla, bla, bla i tak 300 stron w ten deseń. Wynika z tego, że megalomania Artystki była większa niż jej kariera.
Tytułowy romans z carem zajmuje ok. 1/3 książki i dla czytelnika jest bardziej przyjaźnią, zażyłą znajomością niż związkiem opartym na seksualności czy namiętności, ponieważ tak przedstawia to Autorka. Paradoks polega na tym, ze romans ten jest potwierdzony przez historyków jako autentyczny, natomiast fakt ojcostwa syna Artystki, który Ona w niniejszej książce podaje jako prawdę, jest do tej pory przez historyków podważany i uznawany za niewiarygodny.
Styl książki też pozostawia wiele do życzenia: oprócz laurki pod własnym adresem, Autorka często myli nazwiska osób, o których pisze - nie wiem czy to kwestia niedbałej korekty, czy zabieg Autorki, w kilku miejscach książki powtarza te same fakty dotyczące opisywanych osób, które podawała już wcześniej, dowcipy czy sytuacje, które uważała za zabawne, były tak opisane, ze w ogóle nie śmieszyły czytelnika. Dodatkowo Autorka opisując tę samą sytuację w różnych miejscach książki, za każdym razem ma inne zdanie np. ślub cara i Alicji Heskiej.
Najbardziej żenujące były według mnie fragmenty, w których za wszelką cenę chciała udowodnić jaka jest wspaniała i utalentowana, dowodząc, że tańczyła równie niezrównanie w wieku lat dwudziestu jak i sześćdziesięciu. Albo przechwalała się swoją wyjątkowa inteligencją i erudycją, która zawsze robiła wrażenie na rozmówcach, podczas gdy jej książka dowodzi czegoś dokładnie odwrotnego.
Książka nie ma żadnej wartości dotyczącej rozwoju baletu: bo baletu tu prawie nie ma, oprócz informacji w czym wystąpiła i że odniosła sukces czytelnik ma wrażenie, że kiedy baletnice ćwiczyły, doskonaliły technikę, przełamywały własne ograniczenia Ona romansowała, jadała wystawne kolacje, podlane najlepszym winem, albo podróżowała, a talent i umiejętności same na nią czarodziejsko spływały. Pod względem historii Rosji czy historii świata też niczego ta pozycja nie wnosi, bo Krzesińska zamiast na życiu w czasie ostatnich lat caratu skupiała się raczej na takich nieistotnych szczegółach jak porcelana z jakiej zrobiono filiżankę, w której właśnie podano herbatę, czy na tym która uczestniczka kolacji miała droższą i ozdobniejszą biżuterię, albo czy toaleta innej damy była strojniejsza od jej ubrania. Oczywiście to zawsze ona była najlepiej, najstosowniej i z najwyższą klasą ubrana, umalowana, miała najodpowiedniejszą biżuterię i nienaganne maniery, czego nie omieszkała za każdym razem podkreślić. Poza tym jej świadectwa historyczne przemian w Rosji w czasie rewolucji a następnie dwóch wojen również nic nie wnoszą, bo przewrót przeżyła z dala od Moskwy i Petersburga, w regionie spokojnym i w jej życiu niewiele się zmieniło oprócz tego, że zabrano jej dom i straciła kosztowności i to była dla Niej niewyobrażalna tragedia podczas gdy jej rodacy cierpieli głód, prześladowania i tracili życie, w czasie 1 wojny wyjechała za granicę gdzie występowała oczywiście z wielkimi sukcesami lub ewentualnie kupowała kolejne domy, a w czasie II wojny światowej co prawda trochę los ją doświadczył, ale zawsze znalazł się jakiś usłużny przyjaciel, który jak za dotknięciem czarodziejskiej różdżki wybawiał ją i jej najbliższych z każdego kłopotu. Cały czas miałam nieodparte wrażenie, jakby Ona przez wszystkie złe doświadczenia i okropności na świecie przechodziła kolokwialnie mówiąc "suchą stopą", a jej największą tragedią życiową była niespełniona miłość do Cara Mikołaja II. Uważam, że napisała te wspomnienia żeby podreperować swój nadszarpnięty budżet, kiedy jej nazwisko już się trochę przykurzyło, a jej sława lekko zbladła, nadała im chwytliwy tytuł rodem z dzisiejszych magazynów plotkarskich, których dziś zapewne byłaby czołową gwiazdą żeby zachęcić do kupna, ale wszystko wyszło mierne i nijakie. Mimo niewątpliwie wielkiego talentu tanecznego ukazała siebie jako plastikową, pustą lalę, przywiązującą wagę do plotek, których rozpamiętywanie stało się treścią tej publikacji, ale które z upływem lat kompletnie tracą na znaczeniu i niczego nie wnoszą.
Zdecydowanie nie polecam czytać tego wybitnie miernego pamiętniczka, szkoda czasu i energii.

[Gremrien · Rating 2 out of 5]

Memoirs of the famous Russian ballerina. I was interested in this book not because I liked her or Russian ballet overall (quite the opposite, actually) but because I knew that her life was associated with some remarkable historical events and public figures from an important time period. Ironically, the first thing I had in mind hearing her name was not her personality but her famous mansion, “Особняк Кшесинской,” which became the headquarters of Bolsheviks in 1917. I did not know much about it, though. Besides, I’ve just finished the memoirs of a Russian opera singer, Галина Вишневская, and was pleasantly surprised by their contents and quality, so I hoped I might discover something interesting here as well.

Hell, no )). This was one of the most unpleasant and boring memoirs I have ever read )). Матильда Кшесинская was a narcissistic, vain, self-absorbed person, and her memoirs are dedicated mostly to her “successful success” in ballet (really, “имела успех” — one of the most common phrases in the book, and it’s always about her, of course), her connections and jolly pastime with various Russian aristocrats (preferably from the emperor’s family), and her immense treasure trove (a huge collection of various highly precious decorations, jewelry, trinkets, etc., plus mansions and villas, plus endless “gifts,” and so on). She was definitely not stupid (I suppose she was even quite sharp and a skilled manager, communicator, and intriguer) but her narration leaves an impression of a person with chicken brains. And honestly, looking at her lifestyle and all this senseless accumulation of valuables, which was shared by all the Russian “elite” at the time, I felt a surge of “class hatred” and understood perfectly why this country became infested and easily occupied by the most radical Leftists who had risen to power under the motto “to take everything away and divide equally.” Reading about Матильда Кшесинская, her lifestyle, and her social circle was a useful lesson about how imperial Russia was rotten from above.

In this context, it was very interesting to learn about the place of the ballet in this country (which is quite relevant for our time as well, I think). Матильда Кшесинская became part of the elite not only because she belonged to an aristocratic family and was a talented dancer. No, if you look closely at her memoirs, you understand perfectly that Russian ballet was always THE MOST patronized area of culture in Russia. Patronized at the highest levels. You can see that starting from a very young age, any promising ballet dancer was already considered part of the elite, and these dancers (mostly girls and women, of course) had close contact with the emperor, his family, and all the top rich and influential people of the country. Emperors came to their performances (and even rehearsals) regularly and talked to them “behind the curtains” as friends, they received precious “gifts” routinely (and often even as a normal part of their career), and many of them became lovers and/or wives of these “top rich and influential people,” being automatically included in the very structure of the Russian aristocracy just because they represented the most important area of Russian culture. (Well, that’s how Матильда Кшесинская became the lover of The Heir, i.e., Николай II before he was coronated, and later a lover and a wife of several other members of the emperor’s family.) Russian ballet was always generously (if not “lavishly”) financed by the Russian government at all official and unofficial levels, and no other area of Russian culture was such a “golden egg” for talented people. It’s no wonder that Матильда Кшесинская always talks about her ballet career as “service” (“служба”) rather than “job,” “work,” “vocation,” etc. It was indeed a service to the state and to the emperor in the first place, the most prestigious and visible “export product” of the Russian culture. I really don’t think that much changed in this regard in the USSR and in modern Russia.

Otherwise, the memoirs did not look interesting and sincere to me, and it’s difficult to find something “nourishing” here even from the historical point of view, including the most turbulent years of the Russian revolution and forced emigration of Матильда Кшесинская. Maybe they have their value for people who understand and love ballet, but it was definitely not my cup of tea.

The only really interesting thing I learned from the book about the ballet was this:

“В нашем балетном мире происходит нечто подобное тому, что происходит в эмиграции, где присваивают себе, без всякого на то права, титул графа или князя, а военные непременно чин генерала.
Так и в балетном мире многие танцовщицы присваивают себе звание «балерины», а иногда и «прима-балерины», не имея на то никакого права.
Арнольд Хаскелл в своей книге «Балетомания» отмечает злоупотребление званиями «балерины» и «прима-балерины», которые имели в России совершенно точное и определенное значение и давались балетным артисткам в ограниченном числе. Балерин было не более пяти-шести, тогда как генералов сколько угодно, а прима-балерина была одна – М. Ф. Кшесинская.
И это совершенно верно, в России балетные артистки обозначались точно, согласно распоряжениям Дирекции Императорских театров, по категориям, начиная с кордебалета, затем шли корифейки, танцовщицы 2-го, потом 1-го разряда, далее шли солистки и, наконец, балерины, число которых было очень ограниченное, не более пяти-шести одновременно.
После того как я уже была несколько лет «балериной» и получила почетное звание «заслуженной артистки Императорских театров», я стала «прима-балерина», то есть первая среди балерин. Больше никто этого звания не получал, я была единственной и последней.
Кроме меня звание балерины было присвоено Преображенской, Трефиловой, Седовой и Карсавиной.”

[Ania · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Когда я выходила на сцену, моё сердце прыгало, я знала, что буду иметь успех, и была бесконечно счастлива танцевать перед Государем. Когда после окончания "Русской" меня стали вызывать, моему счастью и радости не было пределов.
После спектакля, когда Ники отъезжал от театра, он смотрел в окно моей уборной, г��е я стояла, как стояла двадцать лет тому назад молоденькой девочкой, а он Царевичем - теперь Император самой могущественной страны мира...
Мой большой и старый друг Иван Орлов подошёл потом к окну моей уборной и, радуясь моему успеху, сказал мне: "Браво, браво, Малечка. - По старой дружбе он имел право меня так называть. - Какой молодец, в присутствии Государя Императора сорвать такой успех, браво, браво."

[Larisa A · Rating 2 out of 5]

Интересно, пожалуй, для любителей подробных биографий, историков или великих ценителей балета. Самые интересные части - это части, посвященные эмиграции. А в основном книга в стиле "где я была и что я ела".

[Atwalys Tristan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fascinating...Compelling...Witness the Extraordinary Life of This Splendid Prima Ballerina, Major Star in The End of Russian 19th Century and Early 50 20th Century years. Her Love to The Last Tsar is quite moving...

[Ekaterina · Rating 2 out of 5]

Очень однообразные и полные самолюбования.

[Dl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Infinitely more interesting than anything a fiction writer could write. Very relatable heroine, very dramatic life.

[Olive Fellows (abookolive) · Rating 3 out of 5]

As someone who is very interested in Russian history, I was very excited to read this book. I've been to St. Petersburg, visited the Kschessinka mansion (now The State Museum of Russian Political History), and was very interested to hear more about Mathilde's life in her own words.

However, I was disappointed reading these memoirs. She goes into very little detail about her time with the future Tsar Nicholas II and, as I felt while reading, is quite insincere when describing relationships with other dancers. From research, it seems clear that she was very competitive and her interactions with other dancers in the ballet were tenser than she lets on here. It was also very frustrating reading time and time again about her exploitation of her relationship with the Romanov family. She used this to get ahead, to say the least. I can agree with another reviewer in saying that she comes off as very vain and superficial.

Her depiction of Revolutionary Russia (and then Russia in civil war) is largely limited to her shuffles between locations and is concluded with her emigration. Again, somewhat disappointing. After that section, though, I did enjoy reading about her time spent as a ballet school instructor. The amount of passion she had for dance is very obvious.

Overall, this is a book better read by lovers of the ballet than for Russian history enthusiasts such as myself.

[Marshall · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an interesting book, but I have to say that the author comes off as nothing less than hell on wheels if you read between the lines. Probably an excellent dancer, Kschessinska achieved all manner of benefits in imperial Russia by becoming the mistress of the as yet uncrowned and married Nicholas II. She later became the mistress of two of his cousins at the same time. These relationships gave her leverage in the world of the imperial Russian ballet. She never hesitated to seek intervention from Emperor Nicholas II himself if she felt she needed something, be it a role in a ballet or a son legitimized. The memoirs detail Kschessinska's various performances, unending self-praise followed by catty comments of long dead rivals who just could never make it to her standards. Pity. The revolution led to Kschessinska to make some hard choices. Though pleading poverty on every page, she still manages to live the high life in style in Paris. Eventually she married one of Nicholas' cousins and became a sort of Grand Duchess. Her final years were spent running a ballet school in France, due in large part to her poor luck at the gambling tables of Monte Carlo. Her former Grand Duke husband ended up being supported by this troublesome figure in Russian cultural figure.

[historic_chronicles · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm very interested in Russian Imperial history and the Russian Revolution and the name of Mathilde Kschessinska had appeared when I had read about Tsar Nicholas II.

Mathilde Kschessinska was the Prima Ballerina with the Russian Imperial Theatre. While the Tsar Nicholas II was still the Tsarevich, she developed a relationship with him until he married Empress Alexandra.

Following this love affair she went on to have a relationship with both Grand Duke Sergei Mikhailovich and Grand Duke Andrei Vladimirovich (who she later married after fleeing Russia to Paris).

Kschessinska is most definitely a colourful character. Although she wrote her memoirs in quite a modest tone, you can still sense her self-assurance and pride seeping through when she lists numerous positive reviews and dealings with the Imperial Family.

I think that she was definitely reserved when writing these, making sure that she was portrayed in a positive light even in times when that might not have been the most accurate account.

However, ignoring any personal opinions on Kschessinska, there is no doubt that this memoir is written with grace and eloquence. Her descriptions of pre-revolution Russia was beautifully moving in deep nostalgia and I found it very emotional.