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When Chulalongkorn died on October 23, 1910, he had been king for forty-two years. Most of his subjects could remember no other. The special royal word for the death of a king (sawannakhot) felt strange on the lips to older courtiers; it was meaningless to the young.

Despite the length of his rule—the longest in Thai history—the King was not old; his death was totally unexpected. Chulalongkorn had celebrated his fifty-seventh birthday a month before his death. Although he had had periodic bouts of illness over the years, he had not been ill for some time before his fatal attack. The progress from the first complaint of “stomach trouble” to coma and death was but a week. Not even the highest princes in the court knew the seriousness of the King’s condition. Less than forty-eight hours before he died the First Queen had reported that “His Majesty has improved in all respects.”1

Crown Prince Vajiravudh, whose residence at Saranrom Palace put him some distance away from Dusit Palace, where the King had 2been staying, was probably less well informed about his father’s illness than most. In fact, on the morning of the King’s final day, Vajiravudh had had to be awakened to be summoned to Dusit Palace.2

Certainly in the short view the practical and emotional period of preparation of Vajiravudh for assuming the royal authority was brief. In the long view, however, his preparation, while not ideal, was better than that of most of his predecessors.

The first advantage he had was early assurance of becoming king. In 1886 Chulalongkorn, in order to ensure a peaceful succession, had appointed his son Vajirunhis Crown Prince, the first Crown Prince in Thai history. When Vajirunhis died in 1895, Chulalongkorn named Vajiravudh, then his oldest son of the highest princely rank, the new heir.3 In the following fifteen years Vajiravudh, the royal family, and all the Thai people had become thoroughly used to the prospect of Vajiravudh’s succession. The intention of Chulalongkorn in naming an heir was entirely fullfilled on his death, and the indecision, deli­berating, politicking, and even open warfare that had characterized periods of change of rule in traditional times were completely avoided. Vajiravudh stepped into his new role unchallenged.

Other advantages of the new monarch included his intelligence, his age, his training, and his knowledge and experience. Vajiravudh’s intelligence hardly requires proof. His mind was agile, inquisitive, logical, and retentive. Vajiravudh acceded at the age of twenty-nine, in the words of one Thai prince “a splendid age to succeed to a throne.”4 While age alone is no qualification, accession at too few years could be a distinct disadvantage, as Chulalongkorn himself had discovered when he had become king at fifteen, full of royal dignity but powerless.

The training of Vajiravudh was certainly exceptional. He was the first Siamese king to have been educated abroad, to have traveled extensively, to have visited many foreign courts and capitals. He left Siam for his education in England in 1893, when he was twelve, and stayed for nine years. He acquired a general education under a number of tutors and received special military training at Sandhurst and through service with several British infantry and artillery units. In 1900 he went up to Oxford, where he studied history and law. His social education was not neglected: he conversed with European royalty (starting by taking tea with Queen Victoria in 1894), learned horsemanship and lawn tennis, visited the London theater (he was always fond of plays), and represented his father at various functions. Throughout the European years he visited France, Belgium, Italy, Hungary, and Spain; on the way home, the United States and Japan.

3The training of Vajiravudh in Thai traditions did not entirely lapse while he was abroad. Preceptors were periodically sent to Europe to instruct him—and the other sons of Chulalongkorn sent abroad for study—in the Thai language, in Buddhism, and in Thai culture. Further, the King on occasion sent letters of moral instruction to the young princes to help them keep their Thai values intact.5 He advised his sons to write him regularly—in Thai as well as in a European language. For knowledge of Thai was indispensable. Chu­lalongkorn put this clearly in one letter:

I would at this point impress upon you the fact that in sending you abroad for a European education, it is not my object to have you useful solely through your knowledge of foreign languages and European methods of work. Your own language and literature must ever be in constant use…. Knowledge of a foreign language is merely the means of acquiring further learning.6

On his return to Siam in January 1903, Vajiravudh gained additional experience. He became inspector general of the army, commander of the royal guards, an army general, an assistant private secretary to King Chulalongkorn, president of the National Library, president of the Commission on Exhibitions, chairman of a drafting committee for the military penal code, and temporary head of the Ministry of Justice. The Prince also on occasion accompanied the King to meetings of the Council of Ministers and was shown drafts of key documents—both as part of his preparation for eventual rule. The highest position the Prince was entrusted with in the years before his accession was that of head of the caretaker government, together with the Regency Council and Council of Ministers, during Chula­longkorn’s second trip to Europe (for his health) from March to November 1907.

All these experiences, including the last as “acting king,” carried less responsibility than might appear. In no case was Vajiravudh able to operate on his own. He was at the most a contributor to the work of a council, at the least an observer, expected to learn by seeing rather than by doing. During his father’s absence in 1907, Vajiravudh fully filled the King’s functions in only one role—that of performer of royal ceremonies in the countless Brahmanic and Buddhist rites that made up a large part of the royal duties. In deliberations of the Regency Council or the Council of Ministers, the Prince served as chairman, but key problems were cabled to the King for decision; and matters that required more immediate action were decided on by the councils, who were instructed to rely on their knowledge 4of Chulalongkorn’s earlier policies or, where such knowledge was lacking, on their best estimates of the King’s probable course of action. All that was done from March to November 1907 had a pro tem character to it and had to pass Chulalongkorn’s scrutiny on his return.7

Saranrom Palace

There was one area in which the Prince had considerable freedom of action, and that was the governance of his own household. It was the custom for young princes to leave the king’s palace—where the considerable female royal entourage also resided—at an early age. Vajiravudh followed this custom late in 1904, taking up residence in Saranrom Palace. Here he was to develop a style of life and some of the special interests that he carried forward into his reign as king.

Saranrom Palace in the days when it served as residence of the Crown Prince was quite a world to itself. Located in spacious walled grounds east of the Grand Palace, the site even today preserves remnants of its former splendor—a Chinese-style pagoda tower, a Cambodian-style monument, various Victorian-style buildings elab­orate with wooden Hansel-and-Gretel fretwork, walks and lanes that at one time bordered carefully laid out gardens and forested parks. This was Vajiravudh’s domain for six years; this, his little empire, the setting of his princely court, the stage for his enterprises.

Among the preferred activities at Saranrom were amateur theatricals, classical dancing practice, war games, literary production, and newspaper publishing. These activities were organized and managed by the Prince personally. For the classical dance form called khon (“masked drama”), an amateur troupe (Khon Samak Len) was established.8 Trained teachers and musicians were hired, but the troupe itself was made up of young courtiers. The Crown Prince wrote the texts and directed the troupe’s frequent performances. In the program notes for a performance at the opening of the school of military cadets on December 25, 1909, the Prince wrote that the wish of the volunteer performers was only to give pleasure and to remind the Thai that the art of the dance was not exclusively Western, that the Thai had traditional arts that ought not be allowed to fall into ruin.9 This basic purpose was to underlie many aspects of Vajiravudh’s nationalism after he became king. The Prince also took keen interest in plays—production, writing, acting. At least four of his full-length plays date from Saranrom times.10

Literary activities of all kinds had long interested the Prince. Even during his days in England he had been productive, turning out 5student publications and a historical thesis for Oxford.11 Two ear­marks of the writer—voracious reading habits and the keeping of a diary—were among the earliest habits of Vajiravudh.12 At Saranrom much of the literary work was directed into the publication of a monthly journal entitled Thawipanya (Enhancement of Knowledge). The Prince was editor and chief contributor to the journal, which printed poems and articles with political and nationalistic overtones as well as purely literary pieces. Aside from contributions to Thawi­panya, Vajiravudh also produced three travel accounts: one of a trip to the North with his father in 1905;13 one of a trip to the South in 1909;14 and, the most interesting, a long narrative account of his trip in 1907 to the region of Thailand’s first capital Sukhothai.15 The Sukhothai account, published in 1908, is a remarkable journey into Thailand’s past, both in terms of the physical journey by elephant and on foot through rough, often uncleared jungle trails that had once been royal highways and in terms of the intellectual encounter at sites of palaces and temples of onetime grandeur. The Prince, in his preface to this work, made his purpose clear. He hoped the work would be of use to archaeologists and historians, but he also had other hopes for it:

Perhaps it will make the Thai more aware that our Thai race is not a new race and is not a race of jungle folk or, as the English say, un­civilized …. We should feel ashamed today to compare ourselves not only to other peoples but also to our own ancestors …. The ancient Thai had the concepts and the diligence to make structures that were large and beautiful and long-lasting. Thai today do nothing but destroy the old things or let them decay because of their infatuation with new things in Western style. They do not know how to choose what is appropriate for our country.16

Many of the preoccupations at Saranrom Palace have been gen­erally regarded as “games.” Some indeed were; the Prince certainly took his moments of relaxation. He liked to tell stories to the young pages. One courtier particularly remembers the ghost stories—the deliberately dimmed lights, the close huddle round the Prince, the real fright of many, some of whom later had trouble getting to sleep.17 Other popular amusements were charades, riddles, and treasure hunts.18

Games in at least one category had, or were to develop, a serious side; these were the war games and police games. The war games apparently started in 1905 and were played in the environs of Saran­rom. They were elaborately staged. There were two teams, each 6headed by a command staff which planned the strategy to be carried out by the commissioned and noncommissioned officers and the men. Each side wore a distinguishing color, red or green, and the various grades of soldiers wore appropriate insignia. Firecrackers were used to help produce realism. The games were taken seriously, and the operations were judged by referees. The Crown Prince usually served as the principal referee, although on occasion he commanded one of the combatant teams instead. A general strike of Chinese merchants in Bangkok in June 1910 inspired a variation of the war games: police action against “Chinese” strikers.

All the games, including the war games, took place at night after dinner, beginning around 10 p.m. Ordinary games usually lasted until 3 a.m., but the war games went on until 4 or 5 a.m. The relaxed Prince and exhausted pages would be off to bed with the sounds of the waking city—the sound of the reveille bugle at the nearby mili­tary cadet school and the clatter of streetcars bringing early workers to their jobs. It is obvious that, when the war games were held, they absorbed the major energies of the Prince and his courtiers. The fact that they were held late at night and in the early morning hours was in keeping with the traditional regimen in Thai court circles.

The war games were also conducted during the Prince’s vacation months away from Bangkok at his bungalow in Nakhο̨n Pathom. There the games took place during the day; the uniforms were more elaborate; “artillery” units with teak-log cannon were added; and the whole operation was even more strenuous and serious, partly because local people—officials and farmers—came to watch.19

A game of somewhat similar nature occupied the Prince and young pages for a time at Parusakawan Palace. Here a model muni­cipality was built, consisting physically of a long, narrow building, divided into rooms, with two pages to a room, and ideationally of a self-governing community with its own government leaders, its own fire department, police, bank, newspaper, and town meetings. The fire department drilled by sprinkling the lawn and shrubbery; the bank received deposits the pages were able to make from their small monthly stipends.20

An indispensable element in all the Prince’s activities in the closed world within his own control was his attempt to build a body of loyal and like-minded retainers and to develop a spirit of camara­derie within it. One of his first acts at Saranrom was to create a club called Thawipanya Samosο̨n, or the Enhancement of Knowledge Club.21 Membership was drawn from both courtiers and individuals 7outside the Saranrom court. By Thai standards of the time, the Thawi­panya Club was remarkably egalitarian: commoners far outnumbered those of princely rank, and all members were treated equally. The club had its own officers; its principal officer was elected annually (the Crown Prince always won), and he chose all the other officers.22 The club published the journal Thawipanya.

The club was much like a British club. Members used the club­house, in the Saranrom Gardens, to lounge about and read the foreign and domestic newspapers or to play billiards, ping pong, chess, or card games. Outdoor sports included tennis, cricket, croquet, and hockey. These games were all very new in Thailand, and their popularity rapidly grew—no doubt in large part because of the princely favor shown them. The membership also held general meet­ings two or three times a week. These meetings were usually devoted to formally organized debates on topics such as “This group believes in ghosts” (the affirmative won) or “Electric lights are better than lanterns” (the negative won).23

The Thawipanya Club also sponsored amateur theatricals. A small playhouse was built in the gardens, and frequent performances were given. At times outside guests were invited. Even Westerners, on occasion, were part of the audience, and one foreign journalist recalled in later years “the happiest memories of evenings in that theatre in the garden.”24

The Prince’s predilection for dramatics was not universally ap­preciated. His mother was one outstanding critic. Queen Saowapha came to one performance in which Vajiravudh had a part, and after the performance Her Majesty remonstrated with him. She said that she had enjoyed the play but could not get over the feeling that it was not right for the Prince himself to be on stage, interacting with other people in a way not suitable for one of his rank and station. The Prince yielded nothing in his reply: acting was an art; acting required one to play the role of the character portrayed, not oneself; there was nothing unseemly in actions that were part of developing a charac­terization. In short, the Prince made it clear that he intended to keep on acting.25 And he did so, even as king.

One other action by Vajiravudh as Crown Prince that was indi­cative of his interests was the establishment of a special school in 1907. Most of the pages went to school off the palace grounds. For pages who had completed primary education but had not yet entered government service or one of the military academies, and for pages enrolled elsewhere but with some free time, special classes were held 8at Saranrom in law, government, economics, military science, geog­raphy and history, and English. The Prince designed the curriculum and was the principal instructor.

In a sense, at Saranrom the Crown Prince himself was the principal student. He was organizing; he was leading; he was expressing ideas and carrying out notions. There are foreshadowings of many of his later state policies in his games, clubs, and literary proclivities. But the view of Saranrom as a training period for serious state ideas must not be carried too far. Saranrom was also Vajiravudh’s place of re­laxation, of play for play’s sake. This was in no way unusual. Highborn princes were expected to enjoy themselves. Chulalongkorn, for example, had been established in his own separate residence at a much earlier age; he had held many parties there, had become something of a collector, and had become a father by two of his concubines—all before he reached the age of fifteen, when his father died.

There were some aspects of Vajiravudh’s life at Saranrom that stimulated criticism. His playacting was one, as has already been mentioned. Even more important was the Prince’s failure to marry. The entourage at Saranrom was entirely male. For a prince to reach his late twenties without acquiring a concubine was unusual and a disappointment to those anxious for the future of the dynastic line. Here again his chief critic, the only one to speak directly to him on the subject, was his mother. The Queen’s personal physician reported that Vajiravudh’s refusal to marry “was a source of continual distress and irritation to his mother.” She argued; she pleaded; she reasoned; she tempted him by putting some “charmingly dressed” cousins in his way. All to no avail. The son remained an enigma to his mother. He remained adamant, and she accepted defeat—although none too graciously.26

Another source of some criticism was the Prince’s extreme loyalty to the retainers, courtiers, and pages immediately around him. Some of the Prince’s closest attachments were made within the circle of Saranrom, attachments that continued throughout the period of his reign as king. It was to be expected that some individuals outside this circle should resent their exclusion. There is no evidence, how­ever, that their criticisms had any real effect upon the Prince or deflected him from pursuing his own goals in his own way.

A Victorian Siamese Prince

By October 23, 1910, Vajiravudh had been schooled, had been cast in public roles, had developed a private style of life. He had also 9fitted out the furnishings of his mind. His overall perceptions as to what his small country, Siam, would need in order to survive had been formed; he was already convinced that Siam’s first requirement was the development of a national esprit. Indeed, many of the specifics toward this goal had been partly conceptualized.

The cast of thought of the Prince was a reflection of his upbringing and of his time. He was a Victorian Siamese prince.

The impact of England on the Prince had been profound. His written and spoken English was excellent. He knew and admired the manners of British gentlemen. In Europe he had been au courant with the best restaurants (e.g., Claridge’s), the best theaters. He could comment after viewing the ballet Sylvia at the Theatre Marie in St. Petersburg that its prima ballerina “danced very nicely. She has improved since last winter.”27 He read and enjoyed English periodi­cals, including Punch, The Tattler, and Strand.

Aside from admiring and acquiring the elite manners of Europe’s premier state, Vajiravudh had been impressed with the ethos of Victorian society. England in the 1890s and early 1900s, the period of Vajiravudh’s stay there, was not merely a powerful nation, it was the arbiter of Europe, the center of world empire. And assumptions about the reasons for this premiership surrounded Vajiravudh.

The Englishman of the late Victorian years was convinced that he lived in man’s best times in man’s best land. The criteria for evaluation were the technological proofs of progress: everything was bigger and better, and England had the biggest and best. In 1897, three years after Vajiravudh’s arrival, England celebrated Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. Victoria’s record-breaking reign “was symbolic, for England was also engaged in record breaking—she held the records for Empire, for wealth, for commerce, for sea-power, for the size of her metropolis, for social prosperity.”28

Other proofs and symbols of England’s preeminence abounded. In art the age of Wilde and Beardsley was seen as the beginning of a new Renaissance; a renaissance had certainly taken place in the theater with the plays of Jones, Pinero, and Shaw. In sports England was supreme; “the idea that foreigners could compete with English­men in any sort of athletic pursuit would have been scouted as too absurd for words.”29 And in the realm of imagination Kipling’s “ten-year British sodger” brought the common man a hero who, by combining the discipline of the barracks with love of the Queen, became world conqueror. This loyalty of the Englishman, his belief in his great and well-deserved destiny, his willingness to work for it, to make any sacrifice to help the “team” win a soccer cup or to 10help the Queen win the championship of the world, made a deep and long-lasting impression on the young Siamese prince in England.

Yet Vajiravudh did not become a converted Englishman. He did not become an uncritical Anglophile. His earliest schooling as a Siamese prince, reinforced by the princely life he resumed after the English interlude, inevitably determined his outlook. The outlook of the Siamese elite was not easily abandoned. The privilege, even adulation, accorded Siamese royalty was a deference that permeated the whole of the Thai social order and depended philosophically on the Buddhist belief that one was born to the existence he had earned in previous incarnations. The hierarchy of deference reached its peak in members of royalty and was expressed in forms beyond anything that could be imagined in Victorian England. Vajiravudh’s place in this system had been confirmed by numerous royal ceremonies held for him from an early age—his establishment with his royal name and title and own retinue at the age of eight, his tonsure at the age of eleven, and his installation as Crown Prince at the age of fourteen. The tonsure ceremony, for example, was a week-long affair involving the construction of a forty-foot artificial “holy” mountain at the top of which King Chulalongkorn, as the god Siva, apotheosized his son as the god Ganesa. A onetime member of the Department of Royal Pages commented:

However ignorant of the meaning of the complicated rites the young prince may be, he must at least subconsciously realize that this festival signifies a break with childhood days, that he must begin to take life seriously, and that he is a person of great importance on whom will eventually rest the responsibility for the welfare of the people …. no finer training for a possible heir to the throne in regal bearing and the duties that might later be required of him could possibly be conceived.30

There are abundant indications that Prince Vajiravudh fully ap­preciated the dignity of his social position. The one adverse report on record from his English tutor apparently arose from the tutor’s lack of understanding of the social standing of the Prince among his own people: Vajiravudh had apparently acted imperiously toward two of his military aides, and the tutor reported that he was afraid the disposition of the Prince had turned sour. The Thai adults who investigated the matter saw only the normal behavior of a Siamese prince toward his commoner servants.3111

Prince Vajiravudh at His Tonsure Ceremony.

12The shuttling between East and West—both physically and ideo­logically—produced tensions and scars in Vajiravudh (and in other princes of his generation). The attempt to create an English club atmosphere at Saranrom Palace by authoritarian means is a typical expression of his dilemma. On the personal level, Vajiravudh’s shyness, his reluctance to establish close relationships with members of his own family, his didacticism, his love of children’s games, and his sensitivity to criticism all bespeak a complicated man attempting to resolve his internal confusions on his own, by his own lights. Vajiravudh’s reaction to criticism is particularly revealing: instead of modifying his behavior, Vajiravudh almost invariably retaliated with a devastating criticism of the critic.

The insecurity that can be perceived in the Prince’s character undoubtedly had its psychological sources. The first Crown Prince, Vajirunhis, who died at the age of sixteen, was obviously much be­loved by his parents; Vajiravudh must have felt, at times at least, that he was only a “second choice.” Moreover, there are strong indications that both of Vajiravudh’s parents were fonder of his full brother Chakrabongs than of Vajiravudh.32 These facts may well have had their impact. And the insecurity of Siam itself may have affected his psyche. Just thirty-eight days before the young Prince left for his studies in England, French gunboats entered the Čhaophraya River and anchored at Bangkok to underline demands for Siamese terri­torial concessions in favor of French Indochina. The Siamese survived this most serious challenge to their sovereignty only by making broad concessions. Vajiravudh, although young, could not help but be moved by the near panic this French move of 1893 caused in court circles.33 King Chulalongkorn could not mask his fears. He secretly deposited a large sum of money in England to take care of his son in case the worst should happen and Vajiravudh should one day find that he had no country to return to. And he informed the twelve-year-old Prince of what he had done.34

Despite the thread of insecurity that was woven into his character, the visible fabric of Vajiravudh’s personality showed no weakness. However strong his father had been, however great his contributions to his country, Vajiravudh on balance was convinced that mistakes had been made and that he, thanks to his broader knowledge of the outside world, would be able to bring Siam the kind of rule and the vital policies it needed for survival.

Notes

1. M. C. Poon Pismai Diskul, Sarakhadi (Bangkok: Mahamakut Ratchawit­thayalai, 1964), p. 303.

2. Ibid., p. 304. See also Prachoom Chomchai, Chulalongkorn the Great (Tokyo: Centre for East Asian Cultural Studies, 1965), p. 165.

3. Vajirunhis died on January 3, 1895; Vajiravudh was installed as Crown Prince on March 8. One source (BT, December 4, 1911) states that Chulalong­korn named Vajiravudh heir thirteen days after the death of his older son.

4. Chula Chakrabongse, Lords of Life (New York: Taplinger, 1960), p. 268.

5. For example, see Chulalongkorn to Vajiravudh, February 11, 1895, in Thawi Muktharakosa, Phramaha thiraratčhao (Bangkok: Phrae Phittaya, 1963), pp. 36–42.

6. Chulalongkorn, Phrabο̨romrachowat nai phrabatsomdet phra čhulačhο̨m­klaočhaoyuhua phraratchathan phračhao lukyathoe song phraratchaniphon mu̓a p.s. 2428 (Bangkok: Sophon, 1931), pp. 10–11 (English translation).

7. For the King’s instructions on the conduct of the government during his absence, see Chulalongkorn’s decree of March 16, 1908, in Thawi, pp. 100–103. It appears that Vajiravudh’s performance of duties in substitu­tion for his father continued after Chulalongkorn’s return: Chulalongkorn had not been cured of his illness abroad and immediately on his return to Siam went for an extended rest in Phetburi. See Chamun Amorn Darunrak, Phraratchakaraniyakit samkhan nai phrabatsomdet phra mongkutklao čhao­yuhua ru̓ang phraratchaniphon nai ratchakan thi 6, kharomrak, mahasinlapin ek khο̨ng thai (Bangkok: Khurusapha, 1968), p. 8.

8. Dhanit Yupho, Khon (Bangkok: Department of Fine Arts, 1957), p. 50.

9. Khon Samak Len, Rainam tua khon kap bot rο̨ng lae phak čheračha (Bangkok: n.p., 1909), pp. 1–2.

10. Ha lo, Wang ti, Nο̨i inthasen, and Khwamdi mi chai.

11. The student publications were The Screech Owl and The Looker-on; the thesis was The War of the Polish Succession, published in English in 1902.

12. A diary in three volumes for 1902, in English, is preserved in the National Library. There are references to other diaries; these may be in the possession of the Royal Secretariat. Portions of a diary have been published as Čhotmaihetraiwan nai phrabatsomdet phra mongkutklao čhaoyuhua (Bang­kok: Mahamakut Ratchawitthayalai, 1974).

13. Lilit phayap (Bangkok: Prasoet, 1968).

14. Čhotmaihet praphat huamu̓ang paktai r.s. 128 (Bangkok: Khurusapha, 1963).

15. Thiao mu̓ang phra ruang (Bangkok: Ministry of the Interior, 1954).

16. Ibid., preface. 275

17. Phraya Sunthο̨nphiphit, “Suan anusο̨n,” in Wachirawutthanusο̨n (1967). Apparently the telling of tales to children was common at court. Vajirunhis, the first Crown Prince, noted in his diary that he and his younger brother Vajiravudh (nicknamed To, meaning “large”) enjoyed stories told them by Princess Somawadi and Krommaluang Samο̨nratsirichet; see Thawi, p. 14.

18. For a collection of the Prince’s riddles, see Rama VI, Phraratchaniphon pritsana (Bangkok: Mahamakut, 1960).

19. Phraya Sunthο̨nphiphit, “Su̓apa–luksu̓a,” in Wachirawutthanusο̨n (1953), pp. 25–45.

20. Sunthο̨nphiphit, “Suan anusο̨n,” p. 236.

21. Thawipanya Samosο̨n is written “Dvi Panya Club” in the contem­porary English-language press.

22. The principal officer was called secretary in 1904 and chairman in 1905; see Thawipanya, no. 1 (April 1904) and no. 12 (March 1905).

23. On the Thawipanya Club activities, see Sunthο̨nphiphit, “Suan anuson,” pp. 231–233; remarks of Prince Phitthayalongkο̨n, quoted in King Vajiravudh, Chumnum nithan (Thonburi: Bannakhan, 1966), pp. iii–iv; Thawipanya, no. 1 (April 1904) and no. 2 (May 1904).

24. BT, October 9, 1916. The small theater, in the northern part of the garden, was later supplemented by a 100-seat theater in the southwest corner; see Sunthο̨nphiphit, “Suan anusο̨n,” p. 232.

25. Sunthο̨nphiphit, “Suan anusο̨n,” pp. 232–233.

26. Malcolm Smith, A Physician at the Court of Siam (London: Country Life, 1947), pp. 113–114, 106.

27. The Prince mentions Claridge’s and the Russian ballet in his diary for 1902, part 1, under January 12.

28. Esmé Wingfield-Stratford, The Victorian Cycle (New York: Morrow, 1935), p. 260.

29. Ibid., p. 340.

30. H. G. Quaritch Wales, Siamese State Ceremonies (London: Quaritch, 1931), p. 136.

31. Phraya Wisut Suriyasak to Chulalongkorn, September 20, 1895, in Thawi, pp. 59–66.

32. Smith, pp. 115–116. Smith states that Chakrabongs “was always the first favorite, both with his father and mother…. he was regarded as the ablest as well as the handsomest of all the sons.”

33. Chamun Amorn Darunrak, Dusit thani (Bangkok: National Library, 1970), p. 28.

34. Thawi, p. 27. 276

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Introduction

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ISBN
9780824880316
MARC Record
OCLC
1053885129
Launched on MUSE
2018-09-19
Language
English
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