A halt on this last journey before reaching the capital, was made at Hua Hin, scene of much simple happiness which had ended so suddenly and unexpectedly. Virtually the entire village turned out to show respect and to mourn not only a prince but a friendly and well-liked neighbour. On arrival at Bangkok, when the cortege was met by the King and all the Royal Family, the officer in charge of a battalion of King Chulalongkorn’s Own Bodyguard was so distressed by the occasion, that he was barely able to utter the words of command.
There followed the lengthy lying-in-state in what had been the ballroom at Paruskavan. As with his mother just eight months before, Chakrabongse’s body was encased in a metal urn which in turn was housed in an elaborately carved wooden urn decorated with gold leaf and precious stones. Before the fateful trip and following the death of his mother, Chakrabongse had mused out loud to his son, ‘When I die you will have to arrange for the ceiling to be pierced to accommodate the urn’, little thinking that his prophecy would come true so soon and that an octagonal hole would indeed have to be cut, a task organised by another of Chakrabongse’s brothers, the architect Prince Asdang. In the room amidst a profusion of flowers and candles, were displayed not only the deceased’s regalia, but all his uniforms and many foreign decorations, including the splendid scarlet of the last Russian Emperor’s Own Hussar Guards - a poignant reminder of the forever vanished past.
A copy of Prince Chakrabongse’s revised will made while very ill leaving everything to Princess Chavalit including the guardianship of Prince Chula.
Everyone was kind to Chula, bereft of his mother, grandmother and above all his revered father, in the space of a few short months. During the customary 100 days before his cremation, the Prince was sincerely mourned, not only by his family as they gathered for the customary weekly services in his memory, but by the nation as a whole.
Phra Sarasas, formerly Chula’s tutor and headmaster of the Military College wrote in his book My Country Siam: ‘It was a misfortune that Prince Chakrabongse, heir to the throne, should have died before he was crowned. He epitomised all the desirable characteristics of a King. His character was a compound of earnestness, deference, pleading and dignity, with a profound sense of patriotism and democracy.’ Although in fact only Heir Presumptive, a position he would have lost should Vajiravudh have produced an heir, at the time of his death, there is little doubt that he was widely regarded as probably the next king of Siam.
Telegrams to Katya informing her of Prince Chakrabongse’s illness and death.
Robert Martignan in La Monarchie Absolue Siamoise stated:
‘His death deprived Siam of one of her best sons. His intelligence, his military worth, the loyalty of his character and the clarity of his spirit, the Sovereign and the nation would lack at a time when they were most needed.’
To add to the profound sadness at the death of so young and able a man, who might well have had another 30 years of life still before him, disquieting rumours were circulating about the sinister coincidence that the three generals, colleagues of Chakrabongse, who had also attended the dinner at the Ministry of Defence, had all been stricken with Spanish influenza at about the same time, two having died and the third just managing to shake it off and survive. The failure of electricity during the dinner, combined with the known fact that Chakrabongse had received an anonymous letter warning he would be poisoned, led some to surmise that in the dark while the lights were out, germ-laden knives and forks had been substituted for those used by the victims.
Even the name of the French director of the Pasteur Institute, Dr Leopold Robert, was bandied about as having supplied the poison. The motive for his cooperation in so deadly a design was, it was said, Chakrabongse’s well-known antagonism towards the French for their annexation of Laos and Cambodia in the reign of Chulalongkorn. Is it possible that an Heir Presumptive, who might well one day have become King, was thought sufficiently detrimental to French interests to necessitate his removal along with others known to be his close associates? Whether the technology of the time could have cultured and prepared such germs is not known and whatever the truth may be about Chakrabongse’s mysterious and tragic end, no investigation or enquiry was ever made. Today over 70 years later it is impossible to arrive at any definite conclusions.
XII
Katya’s New Life in China
Katya’s heart and mind were in an agonising turmoil of wounded affections and utter loneliness as she left her cherished home, having parted not only with her husband and son, but an assured way of life in a country and among people she had grown to understand and love.
Her bitter anger and mortification at having been rejected in favour of Chavalit, blinded her completely to the undoubted fact that her own somewhat demanding nature and year-long absence had paved the way for the advent of her rival.
It must be remembered, however, that since 1917, she had been living beneath the dark shadow of the Russian Revolution: the murder or disappearance of the Tzar and all his family in 1918, the Civil War, the precarious situation of the counter-revolutionary forces, and the German occupation of the Ukraine where her Desnitsky relatives lived – or did they?
Her decision to join her brother Ivan in Peking was not because she felt she could rely on his feeling and concern for her, but for the bleak reason that there was no-one else to whom she could turn. Now no longer well-married to a wealthy prince, but a divorcee who, from impetuous pride had refused a generous settlement and accepted only a small allowance, she doubted she would be welcomed. Her relationship with her brother had indeed never been close, and one has the impression that even when, as a girl of sixteen she had come to St Petersburg to train as a nurse, he had troubled himself very little about her welfare. It is true that, when apart, they corresponded in a most affectionate terms, but had only to meet for there to be a possibility of a fiery wrangle.
Katya and her brother Ivan in Peking, circa 1921.
A hard-headed, hard-working career diplomat with no private fortune, he had achieved great success in his profession and spoke fourteen languages, including many Eastern dialects. And, even after his diplomatic career was terminated by the Revolution, he had soon obtained an excellent position as a Director of the Chinese Eastern Railway.
During their last meeting in Bangkok when he had attempted to dissuade his sister from leaving her husband, he had also informed her of his own marriage and that he was the proud father of an infant son, also named Ivan. Not unnaturally under the circumstances, Katya had been too distracted to learn more about her sister-in-law except that her name was Olga and that, but for the upheaval of the Revolution, she and Ivan would never have met.
This was because, like many of her fellow countrymen, Olga had fled before the Bolshevik menace, walking from Kazan to Ufa with her friend Marussia. At Ufa quite by chance they met one of Olga’s uncles, who generously gave them a red blanket, beneath which they shivered a little less than they would have done, jolting for one month across the Siberian Plain in a cattle truck to reach their destination, Omsk. This was where Admiral Kolchak had based the headquarters of one of the White anti-revolutionary forces in an heroic but doomed endeavour to weld their many factions together. Here Olga and Marussia joined a settlement of about sixty refugees, sheltered in a dilapidated abandoned mansion.