Above and below: Interiors at Paruskavan Palace.
The garden at Paruskavan Palace, designed by Katya.
Chitralada Palace which was given to Chakrabongse by King Rama VI.
The new house at Ta Tien on the bank of the Chao Phraya River.
Garden in Paruskavan Palace.
The ground-floor drawing-room was blue, while the little sitting-room next door was in pink and was reserved for small tea parties, presumably of a mostly feminine nature. On the floor above, in what was referred to as the green writing-room, she installed her desk, her piano and the only reminder in Paruskavan of her staunch devotion to her faith, an icon where an oil-lamp burned perpetually.
The next door house, previously owned by Vajiravudh, was now taken over by Chakrabongse in an informal swop of land between the two brothers and Katya eagerly planned the items of furniture and lamps she would buy during their forthcoming European trip. In addition to redecorating the interiors of these two houses, she was very active in the redesign and layout of parts of the enormous grounds, for she truly loved gardening and had the joy of watching flowers and shrubs flourish in the tropical climate.
As if this was not sufficient, Chakrabongse and Katya had also decided to construct a simple villa on a one-acre site on the banks of the Chao Phraya river at Ta Tien. Magnificently sited across the river from Wat Arun, or the Temple of the Dawn, the house backed on to Maharaj Road and Wat Phra Chetuphon, the Temple of the Lying Buddha. The house was envisaged as a simple retreat for boating excursions on the river and for getting changed for state ceremonies at the nearby Grand Palace. As is often the case with building work, all did not proceed as planned and Katya’s letter to her brother Ivan are full of complaints about the progress of their house.
Both her garden and the new house were discussed in a letter to Ivan:
‘I am in the flower and vegetable gardens every morning. I planted them with Thongrod and we have both tried very hard but it is difficult to say what the end result will be. Some of the things are growing now and the cantaloupes and tomatoes are coming up very well. But you have to wait a long time and be patient. I have planted various flowers but they don’t do as well as the vegetables. The plants grow too high and I don’t really expect any flowers.
‘I have spent such a lot of time on that river house that it is a shame that the building work is going so slowly. In Bangkok there are no independent architects. The man who designed our house is employed by the government and works for us in his spare time so he gives us one drawing at a time. By the time we get the next bit the workers have run out of work to do. But now they have started doing the roof which is quicker than building the house and I hope that within four to five months or sixth months at the latest it will be finished. The garden on the road side I have planted rather nicely but on the river side nothing can be done at the moment. They are building a landing stage and boat house on that side and the whole area is full of building materials.’
As time passed, Chakrabongse, increasingly occupied with his many onerous duties, thankfully delegated most of the supervision, maintenance and running of this vast establishment into the capable hands of his young wife, who at the accession of Rama VI, was still only twenty-two years old.
She was a loving mother, though as was the custom then, with several nurses headed by the beloved Chom, she did not see a great deal of her little son. But when she did, as Chula writes: ‘She was perfectly wonderful with toys and cutting out wonderful edifies such as Windsor Castle in cardboard.’ Through her, he also became familiar with many Russian and French fairy stories, which she told him in her remarkably fluent Siamese. But when once or twice she attempted to teach him at least a few words in Russian, he either burst out laughing or into tears and, wounded by his reaction, she abandoned the attempt.
Prince Chula with his lead toy soldiers.
Prince Chula with his life guard uniform, a gift from King Rama VI together with a Jor Por Ror medal.
Writing to Ivan, shortly after the King’s death she described her two-and-a-half year old son:
‘He is so amusing now. You can talk to him as if he were a grown-up. He is really very intelligent.
‘Nou’s uncle (the King) loves him very much. Nou asked him for a small real car and he promised to give him one. Nou adores him now. When he is naughty or very stubborn the most effective thing is to tell him that his uncle will stop loving him and then he behaves.
‘The King ordered a uniform for him and yesterday the King’s tailor, Sompson himself, came to measure him. My “officer” got so frightened of him that at first he refused to be measured but later he agreed and calmed down. He was so excited that very big tears ran down his cheeks… The little boy is afraid of unfamiliar things. When he saw a tape measure he thought it was a doctor’s tool… When the uniform is ready I will take photographs of him and send them to you.’
By now the forlorn early days when Katya felt a lonely stranger in Paruskavan were past for, against all odds, she had indeed made it a home, not only for herself but her husband, her son and all who lived there, for as Chula was to write years later: ‘I love Paruskavan, the house where I was born more than words can say and, though I have not passed a night within its friendly walls for many years, it is the only place really meaning “home” to me.’
As it happens, he might have spent more time ‘within its friendly walls’, and with his mother, had his childhood not developed on most unusual lines due to the possessive love of his grandmother.
Saowabha, now Queen-Mother or ‘Queen of the Thousand Years’, as her title was in Siamese, inconsolable after her husband’s death, arrayed perpetually in mourning black, relied on her only grandchild as her chief source of comfort. As Katya acknowledged: ‘His grandmother is only healthy thanks to him and he goes to her every day. The doctor says that Nou’s visits are the best medicine for the Queen. When he is absent she is very gloomy and she talks a lot about death… I visit her every two and three days and she is always very happy to see me. Now it is clear that I am closer to her than I was before. She has no other grand-children and no other daughter-in-law.’
In her widowhood, as the world held no more pleasure for her, the Queen excluded it – sleeping while it awoke, waking while it slept – and in the seclusion of her palace, reigned unintruded on except by those she wished to see. So it was that Chakrabongse, a most devoted son, noted in his diaries: ‘Got up in the middle of the night to see Mother … ’, or ‘Went to Phya Thai and stayed till about two a.m.’
As for little Chula, Saowabha could not bear to spend a day – or rather a night – without him. In consequence, from the age of two, his routine would hardly have commended itself to a European nanny! After luncheon at Paruskavan, he rested for an hour and was then awakened, dressed and sent to play with other children in the gardens.