"Lydia Sokolova Triumph!"

"Lydia Sokolova Triumph - Famous Dancer's Ovation at Covent Garden!"  Thus ran the headline in London's Daily Express following a 1929 performance of LE SACRE DU PRINTEMPS by Diaghilev's troupe at the venerable London opera house. The ballerina, having recently recovered from a horrendous illness, had taken a chance and re-created her role of the Chosen One in the Massine setting of the Stravinsky ballet. It was reported that her ovation equaled that of the great operatic soprano Rosa Ponselle, two months earlier in the same theatre.

Born Hilda Munnings in suburban London in 1896, Lydia Sokolova was to become one of Diaghilev's principal artists; it was the impresario's idea to Russianize her name. She wrote a memoir, DANCING FOR DIAGHILEV which I recently very much enjoyed reading. In this 100th anniversary celebration year of Diaghilev's first saison Russe (at Paris 1909) her stories left an especially touching impression.

The book tells of her formative years as a dancer and of the many personalities who played a part in the Ballets Russes story, from Massine to Dolin, from Karsavina to Danilova. She gives details of the creation of several of the ballets in the Company repertoire and of her participation in their premieres.

Sokolova's life as a member of Diaghilev's nomadic troupe was a rich one, crammed with incidents which she relates with modest charm. She was, for example, aboard the ship headed for South America where Romola de Pulszky and Vaslav Nijinsky shocked the entire Company (and the dance world at large) by falling in love. Their wedding in Buenos Aires, which Sokolova attended, caused a monumental rift between Nijinsky and Diaghilev and eventually contributed to Nijinsky's decline into madness.

Trapped with the Company in Lisbon during the war, Sokolova watched helplessly as her baby daughter's health declined from lack of food and medicine to a point where she gave the child up for dead. Diaghilev, nearly penniless himself, came to her one night and gave her a few of his last coins to obtain a doctor's treatment. Sokolova relates how on those long, hopeless days Diaghilev would sit in the park with her baby on his lap, allowing the girl to play with his monocle. She saw the human side of the impresario and felt that their mutual despair had created a personal bond between them. After much trouble, the dancer and the director escaped separately to London. Meeting again on the stage of the Coliseum, Sokolova was shocked to find Diaghilev back entirely in his cool, detached impresario mode. She realized that their brief closeness in dire circumstances was not to have any effect on their professional relationship.  

Lydia Sokolova and Leon Woizikovsky in LE TRAIN BLEU. The story of Lydia's love life gave me special pleasure. Since in her photos she looks rather staid, I was delighted to read that she was a passionate woman; her affair with Woizikovsky began while both of them were married to others in the Company. There was a big scene when Leon's wife found out the truth, and Lydia and Leon were forced to cool it. But things continued to smoulder and eventually their mutual passion won out. Freeing themselves from their spouses, they wed and - despite Leon's penchant for gambling - their marriage was long-lasting.

A terrible bout of illness and injury led Sokolova to curtail her activities in the late 1920s. For months she was unable to dance or even to be mobile at all. She tried everything - from freakish medical treatments to prayer - but nothing helped. Slowly, slowly she rejoined the world of the living and the story of her 1929 triumph in RITE OF SPRING in London was in a way a triumph of her will to dance again.

Above: Serge de Diaghilev. Sokolova's book ends abruptly with the death of Diaghilev; she and Leon were on a beach on the French coast when the newspaper was brought down to them bearing the tidings of the impresario's death in Venice. Their lives were altered in that moment; Sokolova went on to teach and coach and even to perform on occasion: she danced for the very last time in London in 1962 and died in 1974.

My favorite story from the book revolves around flowers. Sokolova, by then a well-established principal dancer, was incensed one day to find herself cast as one of the twelve maidens in FIREBIRD. She went to Diaghilev to protest; his reply was that it was an honor to dance in his corps de ballet. Sokolova stewed and fumed helplessly in the days leading up to the performance and even considered leaving the Company. Warming up backstage on the dreaded night, Sokolova stopped by the large table in the wings where bouquets to be handed the artists during the performance were laid out. She saw a magnificent spray with a card that said "Lydia Sokolova...after FIREBIRD" Since she had a lead role in one of the other ballets that night, she went to the stage manager and asked that she be given the flowers after that piece rather than FIREBIRD; she did not want to be singled out of a group of twelve with a floral offering. "Diaghilev's order!" the stage manager told her. Her pleading fell on deaf ears.

And so, during the FIREBIRD curtain calls, Lydia Sokolova was called forward from the corps to receive the bouquet. Diaghilev knew how to make amends.

Comments

[Deborah]

This is so interesting, Philip! I just ordered a copy from Alibris (they had a few left).

Can't wait to get it and read it!

[Philip]

It's a great summer read, and Lydia knows how to tell a good story. Some of her anecdotes have been recounted in other books about the Ballets Russes.

[lauren]

Did you know that her first stage name was 'Munningsova'? That always cracks me up.

[Philip]

Yes, that IS funny about the Russianization of the dancers' names. Patrick Healey-Kay was briefly "Patrikiev" before they settled on Anton Dolin.

[Jason]

Fascinating stuff, thank you.
I have a beautiful little original painting inscribed to Lydia's daughter Natasha by the artist Theyre Lee Elliott which I came across in a box of rubbish (!) at a jumble sale. It seems that it was given to her by the artist as a Xmas present back in the 50's and it shows two dancers. Very sad to think that one of her possessions ended up in a jumble sale but I now enjoy it every day - it's a very evocative and touching painting.

[Philip]

That's a nice story, Jason...I'd love to see the painting.