Margot Fonteyn: A Life in Dance
It's a funny thing, really, to think about my life in dance. I was born in 1919, a little slip of a girl in Reigate, Surrey. My father, an Englishman with a bit of Spanish blood, was a tea planter in Assam. My mother, a delightful soul from Australia, brought an air of sun and laughter to our household. Now, you might imagine a ballerina being raised in a ballet studio, surrounded by the constant thrum of music and the rustle of tutus. Not quite! My family wasn't wealthy, but we were happy, and our life was filled with more picnics in the English countryside than pirouettes in a rehearsal studio.
It wasn't until I was nine that ballet found me. You see, my father returned from India and took up a position as tea broker in London. In that big, bustling city, the possibilities suddenly blossomed! A friend introduced me to a ballet teacher, the remarkable Cecily Slater. She saw something in me, something she thought could be honed. From that day, my world changed. Dancing became my obsession, my escape, my everything. I devoured lessons like candy, my young limbs yearning to capture the magic of the dance.
In my early years, Cecily Slater guided me with unwavering patience and encouragement. She taught me the foundations of classic ballet, instilling discipline and an elegant style. It was during these years, from ages 12-14, that I developed a remarkable friendship with the legendary Anna Pavlova. She wasn’t just a ballerina, she was a beacon of beauty, an embodiment of artistry. She would watch me dance and offer precious advice. I would gaze upon her as a tiny child at the theatre, my eyes drinking in every gesture, every emotion. In her company, I found my path. I knew I wasn't meant for a conventional life. I belonged on the stage.
I made my professional debut at the age of 14 at the London Coliseum in "The Fairy Doll." It was a tiny role, but I poured my soul into every step. It was my first taste of the magic, the sheer electricity of performing for an audience. The applause echoed in my ears, a delicious reward for hours of practice. It felt like stepping into a world I was meant to inhabit. Yet, those first few years were full of challenges. Life as a professional ballerina was rigorous, demanding. Long days of rehearsals, strict diets, a relentless pursuit of perfection. The world outside that demanding space felt alien. I was fortunate though. In 1934, I met my first husband, Wilton Tudor-Pole. He brought a welcome stability into my life and was incredibly supportive of my career.
My early performances, often with the Vic-Wells Ballet Company (which would later become the Royal Ballet), honed my craft and exposed me to the richness of the classical repertoire. However, a young ballerina from England could only dream of dancing with the prestigious Ballets Russes, a company brimming with international stardom. For a moment, that dream seemed destined to be shattered, but fate, it seems, has its own designs.
In 1938, the famous choreographer, Ninette de Valois, became Artistic Director of the Sadler's Wells Ballet (later the Royal Ballet). She had a clear vision, a determination to elevate the company to a world-class status. De Valois recognized something in me, a rare quality, an ethereal grace that was both powerful and fragile. She invited me to be one of the original members of the Sadler's Wells Ballet.
And then, in a twist of destiny, a great ballet dancer, Serge Lifar, a choreographer and a formidable performer in his own right, decided to leave the Ballet Russes. A sudden void in the company! De Valois knew I could fill that space, could embrace the challenges of performing as the "prima ballerina" of a new, exciting creation. And that is exactly what happened. I took the leap of faith and was chosen to join the Ballet Russes. My arrival, like that of a beautiful comet, startled the international ballet scene.
My debut as "Odette-Odile" in "Swan Lake" for the Ballet Russes was electric. My performance, imbued with a sense of fragility and inner strength, resonated with audiences. From there, my path was paved with successes. I toured across the world with the company, captivating audiences from Moscow to New York, earning critical acclaim everywhere I went. In that exciting journey, I had the good fortune of meeting Leonide Massine, another giant in the dance world. He, along with Balanchine, played a huge part in shaping my performance style and nurturing my passion for ballet. I began to expand beyond my traditional training and embrace the modern style of ballet. And I thrived!
The early 1950s were a period of both personal and professional turbulence. My marriage to Wilton crumbled, but the dance floor remained my solace. And in a turn of events that shook the ballet world, the legendary Rudolf Nureyev defected from the USSR. He, a dancer of unparalleled technical virtuosity, was both admired and feared. And then, we were paired. It was a bold pairing; one that was met with great trepidation, with expectations high and stakes even higher. Yet, this unlikely duo became the ultimate symbol of artistic collaboration, an example of the power of dance to transcend language and geography.
Nureyev and I were more than dance partners. We were collaborators. Our bond, forged on stage, evolved into an exceptional friendship. Our contrasting personalities – my grace, his explosiveness - made for an unforgettable dynamic. We danced a series of famous ballets, “Giselle,” “Swan Lake,” “Romeo and Juliet.” I will never forget the night of my return to London in 1962. I was nervous. Would the public accept my comeback? The curtain came up and a thunderous ovation erupted. Nureyev stood by my side, his presence a rock of strength.
My life and career were not just a whirlwind of dance. It included a personal life, a complex tapestry woven with love, sorrow, and challenges. After divorcing Wilton, I married Roberto Arias, a man whose love and support I cherished for years. He became my companion, my confidant, my rock. Yet, this, too, ended in divorce in 1969. There is always a bittersweet undercurrent in the world of dance; the need to give so much, and the constant need to reinvent. But that bittersweet undercurrent became my driving force. The audience craved more, and I was ready to deliver.
For the next 22 years, I traveled the globe, bringing the magic of ballet to people across continents. The dance became a silent language, capable of speaking volumes to diverse cultures, languages, and backgrounds. Every performance became a conversation, a sharing of emotion and passion, a journey into the realm of dreams.
During my final years, my health started to fail, the inevitable consequences of a lifetime spent dancing. Yet, I never allowed the physical discomfort to diminish my love for ballet. I remained connected to the world of dance through mentoring younger dancers, sharing my knowledge, encouraging their passion. I hoped, somehow, that the lessons I’d learned over the years would inspire them, would empower them, would ignite that same burning passion in their hearts.
As the curtains fell on my career, I stepped back, reflecting on my incredible journey. The dance had shaped my life. It had been my muse, my mistress, my friend. The challenges, the triumphs, the emotional rollercoaster of devoted artistry had made me who I was. Ballet became my world, a world I loved, a world I could never escape.
I think of myself as someone who was privileged, truly fortunate to have lived a life intertwined with dance. A life of dreams. Ballet was a mirror, reflecting back at me the raw emotion I poured into it. The stage was where I found myself. It was my destiny.
Reflections of a Life
- The greatest privilege in a dancer's life is not fame, but the privilege of channeling passion into art, a transformation of raw emotion into tangible expression.
- My biggest achievement in life, was not winning awards or receiving accolades, but my commitment to the art form. Every performance was an expression of respect for the legacy of ballet, a way of acknowledging the generation before me, a tribute to those whose dance inspired me.
- I wouldn't change a thing. The hardships, the failures, the doubt, all paved the way for those breathtaking moments of magic, moments where time would seem to stand still, and the only reality would be the expression, the shared experience, the communion between the dancer and the audience.
- When I left the stage, I had the rare opportunity to reflect on my journey. And the more I looked back, the more I realized that each step I took was as much an accident as it was a deliberate choice. In life, as in dance, I was not only the author of my story, but I was also the character, dancing to a melody only my heart could hear.
My life was filled with a remarkable, sometimes improbable, dance of chance and purpose, joy and sadness, doubt and certainty. The story of a ballerina’s journey is, after all, a microcosm of a life lived, a testament to the human capacity for hope, ambition, love, and grace. Ballet, like life, was a magnificent journey, an expression of the infinite beauty of the human spirit.