Katya & The Prince of Siam

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.

Chakrabongse’s appearances at official ceremonies, and even at private luncheons en famille with the Tsar and Tsarina, were occasions when he had continually to recollect his position as a Prince and representative of his country, and there is ample evidence in his diaries that the obligation was accepted dutifully. But in more than one entry, as in his remarks about Grand-Duchess Olga, a rebellious note is sounded: ‘It’s the worst of being a Prince – one is put under all sort of restraints and one can never act on impulse – everything one does and says is taken note of, and perhaps reaches Bangkok to cause trouble there!’

At the same time he also noted changing political events. On 22nd January he wrote: ‘Something extraordinary has happened: the Queen of England is dead – she has reigned for so long, it’s almost unbelievable – a great loss for her country and the world.’ While later in March of the same year, he noted: ‘Along the Nevsky there was great excitement as students had announced a day of disturbance and many people went there on purpose to see it. But we were told to take a roundabout route to the Manège and avoid the Nevsky. As far as I know, the students only walked about shouting, but they were charged by the troops, and I heard a Cossack was killed and an officer wounded, and the uproar continued all that day and late into the night. The Minister of Public Instruction, shot by a student in his office, has since died and his funeral is tomorrow. More disturbances are expected.’

The Socialist Revolutionary Party had been formed in 1901 – the combat section of which, under the young scientist called Gershuni, was entirely devoted to terrorism. Strikes, sporadic rioting, imprisonment without trial, exile to Siberia and summary executions, all added inexorably to the long account that would be rendered and paid off in tragic reckoning. But, for the present, the aristocratic ruling classes, despite occasional foreboding, found it expedient to ignore such events, as though they were happening in another world – a kind of underworld – beneath the surface where they elegantly disported themselves.

In May 1901, their last year as pages, he and Poum were again in camp, this time at Krasnoye Selo, where three weeks were spent in training and reconnoitring without instruments, studying military fieldcraft, gauging distances across open terrain and the strategy of troop placements.

In September, Chakrabongse came first in the final examinations. His name was therefore inscribed on the marble panel honouring pages past and present who had attained similar distinction. As an added honour, his mark of 11.75 was so high that it was a record in the history of the Corps. Poum came a good second with marks of 11.50. These results are quite astonishing when one remembers that Chakrabongse and Poum, on arrival in St Petersburg in 1898, had not only to cope with a full programme of studies and activities, but to make up on the five years of tuition they had missed. Moreover, they had to sit all their examinations in competition with native-born pages, in a foreign language as difficult as Russian.

Their last appearance as pages was at a great review to honour President Loubet of France, when they wore their uniforms of Pages de la Chambre, but with the addition of gold chevrons on the coat and sleeve, and a sword. That winter there were many royal visitors to St Petersburg, including King Victor Emanuel and Queen Elena of Italy, Ferdinand I of Bulgaria; but the most exotic personality was the Emir of Bokhara, whose impassive stance with one hand on his sword and the other holding a bouquet, in the face of every kind of entertainment, was such that he caused a considerable stir one evening merely by changing sword and bouquet from one hand to another!