Katya & The Prince of Siam

‘By 5.30 that afternoon, we were all exhausted and famished with hunger! When in the service of the Court, it’s best to forget completely about being a soldier and concentrate one’s mind only on Court etiquette’, he concludes sagely.

Despite many attendances of this kind in his capacity as ‘Page de la Chambre’ and the arduous military studies and exercises in which he was so remarkably successful, Chakrabongse still found time for a full social life as well. He records enjoyment of numerous evening parties quite outside Court circles, where there were dancing or musical soirées to hear a quartet or a singer. ‘The pieces by Arensky were very fine’, he writes of one such occasion, ‘and one aria in particular, with words by Lermontov - so moving and poetic - was quite wonderful.’

Frequent visits to the theatre to see Shakespeare or Molière, as well as Russian writers and opera, crowded his leisure hours with pleasure. He also enjoyed reading in several different languages and exclaims: ‘I’ve just finished Turgenev’s A Nest of Gentlefolk – what a superb novel!’ He also mentions ‘a boring afternoon when I felt bad-tempered as I had nothing to do, but then took up Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow by Jerome K. Jerome, which was so entertaining and funny that I quite recovered my good humour!’

Chakrabongse was particularly keen on the ballet as he was greatly intrigued by the famous ballerina Mathilde Kchessinskaya, who with Olga Preobrajenskaya, as Karsavina writes in Theatre Street

, were ‘idols of the Imperial Ballet School’.

Kchessinskaya, the mistress of the Tsar before his marriage, subsequently enjoyed liaisons with more than one Grand-Duke, and eventually married Grand-Duke Andrei Vladimirovitch. Karsavina describes her as ‘small, pretty and vivacious, pleasure-loving and of a joyful nature, and the round of parties and late hours never impaired her looks or her temper. She had not only marvellous vitality, but enormous will-power, and within a month preceding an appearance, ceased to receive, trained for hours, was in bed by ten, kept to a frugal diet and would not drink even water for a whole day before dancing.’

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.