Her romantic liaisons and her pre-performance routine were clearly reasons why she sometimes became inaccessible and did not answer Chakrabongse’s notes or invite him to see her as often as he would have wished. ‘Nothing is heard from K’, he records disconsolately, ‘though I’ve written and sent her a present for the New Year’. But the next day, she invited him to see her, ‘and seemed really sorry for upsetting me, and made me promise to go and see her dance next Sunday’. This he did but ‘unfortunately the Grand-Duke Serge (the Tsar’s Uncle) was in the audience, and one was made aware of his presence by K’s manner. She never bowed openly to me and only raised her eyes to mine, while bowing to the general public. The idea of his being jealous of me is simply ridiculous! But I admit she occupies a great place in my mind – such a pretty delightful woman, she cheers me up wonderfully!’
In early January 1901, Chakrabongse was cheered by the arrival of his full brother, the Heir-Apparent, Crown Prince Vajiravudh, his ADC, Siddhi, and one of their numerous half-brothers, Prince Yugala, on a short visit. Despite its brevity, the three of them organised a theatrical evening, the prime mover in this enterprise more than probably being the Crown Prince as, later on, when he became King, he not only often performed in plays at one or other of the royal palaces in Bangkok, but wrote many of them himself. As all three spoke English fluently, they chose to appear in two acts of Sheridan’s The Rivals and one act of My Friend Jarlet (by Arnold Galsworthy and E B Norman – Vajiravudh later translated this into Thai under the name Mit Thae and subsequently Puan Tai). In the latter, Chakrabongse played a woman, Marie (a part acted by Vajiravudh in a previous performance), and was pleased that ‘everyone found me very pretty and I made a good impression, except when I have to faint – I really don’t know how to do it.’
Next day however, when he took Vajiravudh to see Kchessinskaya, ‘who was in the gayest mood – awfully nice and cheery’ and told her of his swooning difficulties, ‘she promptly got up and showed me how it was done. She tried again and again to persuade Vajiravudh to stay longer in St Petersburg, raising her hands imploringly as we left, begging him not to go so soon. She also whispered to me, “Don’t forget me!” On the whole, she’s a good little thing and awfully fit to cheer one up’, he added rather condescendingly.
After lunch on 6th January, they rehearsed My Friend Jarlet, which ‘went off very badly, as we all laughed the whole time, Siddhi making funny faces and talking rot at inopportune moments. I have really not laughed so much for years’. But the dress rehearsal went better, though the seamstress was convulsed with merriment when Chakrabongse assumed his womanly guise and make-up.
Next evening, ‘We had the acting. Oh, how nervous we all were while waiting to begin. However, as soon as I appeared and was greeted with applause it braced me up directly. In The Rivals, Vajiravudh was successful as Sir Anthony Absolute and, at the end, there was handclapping, cries of “bravo”, and I was presented with some flowers. After it was over we joined the guests for supper. I received many congratulations and was told my fainting was good, as well. Because I had a fine teacher!’, he records, and sent the flowers he was given to Kchessinskaya ‘who said she was deeply touched’.
On 9th January 1901, Vajiravudh and party left for London on the next stage of their tour, and the day after Chakrabongse writes: ‘I observe today as a day of rest, as I’m tired out after all the excitement for, while Vajiravudh was here, even when we went early to bed and not to a party, theatre or ballet, there was no end to what we had to talk about and we chatted half the night.’
Chakrabongse in female dress for the role of Marie in ‘My Friend Jarlet’.
The next afternoon, fully recovered, he went to The Sleeping Beauty at the Marinsky. ‘K danced awfully well and was so pretty in the red dress’. The Grand-Duke was obviously not present for Chakrabongse notes happily that ‘she bowed to me many times’. But soon, alas, he received bad news from Bangkok. Phraya Suriya ‘has written to Father about my friendship with K to prove I need stricter supervision and less freedom and independence. I’m sorry. Father, and Mother especially, will be troubled in vain. Phraya Suriya seems out to ruin me’. Fortunately no more is heard of this, but a little later he noted: ‘K behaves in the most uncommon manner. Her complete silence continues. Really I suppose I should end our acquaintance as it’s become known in Bangkok. It’s extraordinary how people think that if one finds a woman charming and attractive, one is necessarily having an affair with her’. However, in view of the disclosures by the sanctimonious Phraya Suriya, it would not be surprising if it had not been tactfully hinted to the ballerina that the relationship should not be encouraged.
On 19th January, more tidings of a frivolous nature came about Crown Prince Vajiravudh in the form of ‘awful news from England’. The prince while apparently seeing off a certain Mabel Gilman at Euston Station, was persuaded to travel as far as Rugby with her, and Siddhi was dispatched to the booking-office to check that the train really did stop at Rugby and buy him a ticket if it did. Mabel and Vajiravudh awaiting his return, sat chatting in the carriage, when to their horror, the train moved off and, far from stopping at Rugby, turned out to be an express that carried them all the way to Liverpool! Chakrabongse comments, ‘in this manner Vajiravudh went to Liverpool under unfortunate circumstances, and the incident is most regrettable because, if it becomes known, our enemies will make a capital story out of it’. He obviously feared that, like his interest in Kchessinskaya, the news would be carried even further than Liverpool – all the way to Bangkok in fact!
There were several houses where he and Poum were able to drop in casually – at Prince Constantine of Oldenburg, Prince Yourievsky, son of Alexander II by his morganatic wife, Princess Yourievsky, and above all at the home of Madame Chrapovitzkaya, where they were received as dear friends. This lady, the wealthy widow of a Hussar officer, was, from her portrait, a most delightful woman, utterly feminine with that elusive Russian grace and charm that casts a spell like music. ‘In her apartment in the Machavaya Ulitsa, there were many rooms, fifteen servants and twenty-three birds.’ Here, often jaded from overwork and the sometimes stifling etiquette of court life, the two young men met a lively society of artisits, writers, actors and singers, and young people of their own age who gathered at her hospitable table to enjoy themselves.
In March, Chakrabongse learned of the engagement of the Tsar’s sister, Grand-Duchess Olga, to Prince Peter Alexandrovitch of Oldenburg, news to which he reacted with surprising emotion. ‘I must say I’m sorry for poor Olga, I don’t think she’s got much of a fiancé. Of course, it’s her mother, the Empress-Dowager, who has arranged the marriage to keep Olga here by her side.’ And next day, he added: ‘Olga’s engagement still troubles me – I hardly know why as I have no business to feel anything about it whatsoever. But I hate to hear of anyone concluding a mariage de conveniance and therefore feel much sympathy for her.’ This sympathy, obviously prompted by strong personal feelings, reveals an attitude which is of interest in view of later events.