Katya & The Prince of Siam

It was only long afterwards that he learned that poor Cham, so devoted to his mother and in dark despair at her departure without her, had flung herself from a top floor window, to lie broken and dying in the garden, from whence she was rushed to hospital, not only vainly to try and save her life, but because according to Siamese belief, she would forever have haunted the house, had she died there.

His mother’s disappearance without a word to him, seemed at the time the most cruel desertion to Chula, although he tried to understand, when older, that she had left him thus because she could not bear to say goodbye. She also felt she would have wronged him greatly if she had tried to remove him from the security of his father’s affection, his home and his future as a royal prince of Siam. In addition, she knew that had she proposed to take him with her, she would have had to fight a battle – lost before begun – not only with his father, but with his formidable grandmother, Queen Saowabha, who would have been determined to keep her one and only grandson at her side.

From what can be gathered from the letters and diaries after so many years, it appears that the marriage of Chakrabongse and Katya, begun in so high a blaze of romantic ardour in 1906, had by 1918 run into trouble, though it was trouble that might well have been lived through had it not been for the advent of Chavalit. But, as so often is the case in matrimonial tangles, Chakrabongse’s passionate love affair with her in all her youth and freshness highlighted his difficulties with Katya and vitiated his will to deal with them. It must also be remembered that, to a man of his temperament, once set afire by a woman – as had been proved by his early love for Katya – neither the Russian Emperor, royal father or religion could divert him from pursuit of his desire.

Excerpts from a letter to her brother dated 9th April 1919, in which she refers to Chakrabongse as the General, give another picture of Katya’s feelings at this troubled time:

 

‘Our relationship is that of a husband and wife leading entirely separate lives. Not only is he not going “there” [a reference to Chavalit’s house] less, but he goes more often … he goes there first before going to the palace … None of this would matter if he only acted towards me as a friend. But believe me there is nothing left for me but to sit at my desk and read the newspapers. And I am sorry, Dearest, but I will not be able to stand such an existence for long in order to give those who love me a certain satisfaction …

‘Now I will tell you a little about my life as I used to do in the past: I still wake up early and go downstairs to instruct the servants and gardeners. Then I get dressed and Lek and I have lunch together. At 1.30 he goes out and generally goes “there” … at 4pm I take a bath, get dressed and have some tea.

‘If the General is out, I go to see relations or friends. After that I listen to records on the gramophone. After that I have dinner and then read the papers or go for a drive. At 11 pm I go to bed. The General goes to bed about 1 am …

‘Last Friday I went to see Mahibal and she asked me why I did not go to see Prince Rajburi (Chavalit’s father) anymore, as he loved me so much and was distressed that I thought he was the cause of all this, to which I, of course, replied that I had never thought such a thing.’

 

A further thirteen years later in 1932, no longer in the heat of the moment, she wrote thus to her son in English: