Drawing took place in the evening, and every Sunday morning there were dancing lessons in the enormous salon of the Winter Palace, taught by no less a personage than the Regisseur of the Imperial Ballet himself. He also must have been an enthusiast, for he offered no scaled-down conventional ballroom waltzes and polka to his oriental pupils, but an ambitious repertoire that included the polonaise, Pas-de-Quatre, Pas de Patineurs, Mazurka, Quadrille, Lancers, Chaconne, the Krakowiak, and an assortment of other picturesque Russian and Hungarian dances.
The members of the 10 August 1902 Promotion (Graduating Class) of the Corps of Pages – Krasnoe Selo, May 1902. Forty graduated in 1902. There were two foreigners – HRH Prince Chakrabongse of Siam and his companion Nai-Poum, one Prince, three Counts, two Barons, twelve bore names of German or Swedish origin, twenty were not the first members of their families to graduate from the Corps.
For the first year, Poum was obliged to take the lady’s part, and an amusing picture is conjured up of the two of them whirling round the vast empty ballroom, performing these exotic steps! Later, doubtless to Poum’s relief, lessons were held at the legation, where the daughters of the Brazilian and Spanish Ministers came to partner them.
Riding was at the Imperial Manège or at the Corps des Pages. On one Sunday a month in the winter, they would drive thirty versts (1.07 km) in a troika with Captain Krulof and others to hunt hare, partridge and quail, but shooting as a sport gave neither Chakrabongse nor Poum much enjoyment. This was probably because, although receiving a military education, as Buddhists they were averse to taking life.
After passing examinations in May 1899, Chakrabongse accompanied by Phraya Mahibal returned to Siam, mainly so that Queen Saowabha could see with her own anxious maternal eyes that her favourite son had completely recovered from his riding accident. Poum remained in Russia, where he spent the summer in the home of Captain Krulof.
As his father wished him to visit the Sultan Abdul Hamid and present him with the Order of the Royal House of Chakri, Chakrabongse returned to St Petersburg via Constantinople. Well-received, he would have more enjoyed his visit had he not been disconcerted by the fact that anything he saw, for which he expressed polite admiration, was promptly pressed on him as a gift. In this manner he acquired a number of magnificent rugs and carpets, and a fine Arab horse. No record remains as to how he conveyed this probably spirited steed to Russia. Another memento of his stay was the award of the highest Turkish Order, the Osmanieh, with a special diamond-studded star. This signal honour was paid him because, as the Sultan wrote to Chulalongkorn, ‘I was deeply impressed by your serious-minded son, who, when conducted through my harem, did not even glance at its occupants!’
In spring 1900, after passing their examinations creditably, both Chakrabongse and Poum went to Paris, where the Great Exhibition drew thousands to the capital. Afterwards they went to Taplow near Henley-on-Thames, where the Crown Prince now lived. Punting and rowing on the river, riding and driving Vajiravudh’s cars along the green English lanes, they must have revelled in their relaxation from the intense discipline of the Corps des Pages.
After a hard winter’s work, their spring exam results were excellent. In fact, as they and two other pupils gained the highest marks, they became eligible for a special award – appointment to the ‘Pages de la Chambre’, or pages-in-waiting to the Emperor and Empress. Chakrabongse was appointed to the Dowager Empress, Marie Feodorovna, and Poum to the Empress Alexandra. But at Chakrabongse’s wish, they changed places, a change that must have been accomplished with considerable tact so as not to have offended the two august ladies. Thus arranged, it was Chakrabongse who attended on the Empress at all court functions, who carried her train and stood behind her chair at banquets.
Formerly it would also have been required of him to place each course of the menu before her, but this usage had been abandoned due to an unfortunate incident in the past, when a page, desperate at having spilled soup down her corsage, rushed at her with a napkin and scrubbed at her bosom with such embarrassing zeal that the Emperor was compelled to order him to desist.
In attendance at the presentation of ambassadors and notables, at gala dinners, soirées and balls, there were also lengthy religious celebrations of imperial birth and name-days, and four-hour Easter services in the Chapel of the Winter Palace. This, despite its dramatic ritual and glorious singing, must have seemed long to the five pages required to bear the enormously heavy trains of the Emperor, Empress and Empress-Dowager. There was, it is true, an interval in the proceedings though this was hardly a relaxation involving, as it did, the compression of the three royal personages, three trains and five pages into a tiny anteroom. And Chakrabongse gives an amusing insight into how their deportment and train-bearing was rehearsed: ‘Lazerev was chosen to represent the Tsarina, wearing a towel as a veil, a uniform jacket as a cloak, and a blanket for the train – an extremely odd ensemble – and very strange he looked!’
On the Feast of St George, came Chakrabongse’s first Court duty. ‘Personal Pages in full uniform reported to the school at 8.15 in the morning, and proceeded to the Winter Palace to await Her Majesty and the Grand-Duchesses. We bowed, took up their trains as had been assigned to us, and followed them through to the Gold Drawing-Room. There we went round and round in circles becoming quite giddy as the Tsarina keep moving to greet her ladies-in-waiting, who were scattered all over the room. She remarked to me, laughingly, “We must give you some practice!”’
Later in this lengthy ceremony, when the Emperor and Empress walked side by side, the Pages had considerable difficulty in manoeuvring themselves, the Imperial couple and their trains, through a series of doorways in one of which the Empress’s train-lining was caught and torn, but happily was released before the august lady was pulled over backwards.
‘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.’