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S A M
AN ACCOUNT OF THE COUNTRY AND
THE PEOPLE
P. A. HOMPSON
H.A., A.M., I.C.E.
LATE OF THE ROYAL SURVEY DEPARTMENT, SIAM
VOLUME XVI
OF THE
UNIVERSITY
OF
J. B. MILLET COMPANY
BOSTON AND TOKYO
COW ADDED
ORIGINAL TO BEi
RETAINED
OCT 0494
COPYRIGHT, IQIO
BY J. B. MILLET CO.
THE PLIMPTON PRESS
[W D O]
NORWOOD MASS U S A
CONTENTS
CHAPTER , PAGE
EDITORIAL NOTE ix
INTRODUCTION . 1
* I BANGKOK 33
II PRESENT CONDITIONS 54
III THE BUDDHIST RELIGION 82
IV TEMPLES, IMAGES, AND SYMBOLS .... 96
V THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE YELLOW ROBE . 122
VI THE PEES AND CHARMS 145
*.VII SIAMESE ART 156
-VIII RICE AND FISH 177
IX CAMP LIFE 203
X AYUTHIA AND THE ELEPHANT HUNT . . . 227
XI LOPBURI, AND THE STORY OF PHAULCON . . 249
XII THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN 262
XIII THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 274
XIV THE FRAGMENTS OF AN EMPIRE .... 289
XV ANGKOR TOM .303
INDEX 325
r> >*
^<J
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
View of Ayuthia Frontispiece
Chinese Palace, Bangkok 32
The King of Siam in Procession 64
Siamese Kiosk 128
The Palace, Bangkok . . .160
Panorama of Menam, and War Ships 224
vu
EDITORIAL NOTE
"It would seem," says our Consul-General, "that
American manufacturers are indifferent to the Siamese
market. They have sent, so far as can be ascertained,
only one commercial traveller to Siam in more than a
year. They have, it is true, sent vast quantities of adver-
tising literature, which has had no appreciable result.
Much of this advertising material, even from firms expe-
rienced in the export trade, is in Spanish, and is wrongly
addressed." Siam is rich in mineral and agricultural prod-
ucts and it offers a rich field for American enterprise in
many ways.
For these and many other reasons this marvellous and
unique country should have special interest for American
manufacturers, engineers, and others who are looking
for the development of trade overseas. For the lover
of Nature and Art, Siam has a fascination all its own;
the home of the white elephant, the very wonderland
of wild animals and of marvels of plant life, the far East-
ern home of an educated people governed by an enlight-
ened king, Siam is still an unknown country to most
Americans and many Englishmen. Its history is told in
so far as it is known, the marvels of its natural produc-
tions are described and illustrated, and all the interesting
and curious details of the life of its people are pictured
from first-hand observation, in this volume, which is the
latest and most authoritative account of this sunlit king-
dom of the Eastern seas.
The writer, P. A. Thomson, is a British painter, whose
works won for him election to the Royal Academy an
honour highly esteemed by every artist and he has
achieved a reputation as an author hardly less enviable
than that which he enjoys as a painter.
CHARLES WELSH.
OF THE
UNIVERSITY
INTRODUCTION
"Being a Freeman, do not associate with slaves."
Maxim of PBA RUANQ.
IP we turn to the map of Siam we shall see repre-
sented a country larger than Spain and Por-
tugal combined, lying between the fourth and
twenty-first parallels North latitude, and, therefore,
wholly within the tropics. On the north it is sep-
arated from China by the mountainous Lao coun-
try, which has been partitioned amongst Siam, the
British Shan States, and French Tong-King. The
north-eastern boundary, between Siamese and French
territory, is formed by the Mekong, which, rising in
the unknown lands behind the Hindu Kush, finds
its way after more than two thousand miles into the
China Sea. To the south-east, and on the right
bank of the Mekong, is the French protectorate of
Cambodia. On the west a chain of mountains marks
the line of a great granitic upheaval which divides
Burma from Siam, and, extending southward, forms
the backbone of the Malay Peninsula.
The northern part of Siam is a mountain-land
covered with dense forests, through which one may
journey for days without seeing a human habitation;
1
INTRODUCTION
while off the beaten tracks rhinoceros, leopard, tiger,
deer, and other kinds of big game abound. Here
the average altitude of the country is about one
thousand feet above sea-level, and some hills rise
to a height of over six thousand feet. The high-
lands, above the level of three thousand feet, are
sparsely inhabited by nomad peoples, who dwell
in wretched villages, and plant a variety of rice
in clearings on the hillsides. Beginning at the
foot of a slope they hah* cut through the trunks
of the trees, and thus work upward. Then the
topmost trees are felled, and bear down in their
fall the weakened trunks below. So, as in the
track of an avalanche, destruction sweeps through
the forest. The fallen trees and undergrowth are
afterwards burnt, and the clearing thus made is at
first very productive, but when the wood ashes
have been washed away by the rains it will only
support a scanty crop. Game becomes scarce, the
other resources of the neighbourhood are soon ex-
hausted, and in a few years the villagers must move
elsewhere. In the deserted clearings worthless jungle
covers the place once occupied by valuable timber,
and by this reckless destruction of forest the rain-
fall over a large district has been seriously dimin-
ished. Thus hardly may the hillmen win a living
from this inhospitable region.
Yet the mountain valleys are of great fertility,
and here another race of men, the Laos, live in
comparative ease. In addition to rice they culti-
vate tobacco and a little cotton, whilst tea grows
INTRODUCTION
wild on the slopes of the hills. It is not used as
a beverage, but the practice of chewing fermented
tea-leaves is almost universal amongst the inhab-
itants of upper Siam. The Laos are skilful boat-
builders, and the bulk of their trade is with Bang-
kok by river. A small proportion is carried over
rough trails by caravans of pack-mules, ponies, bul-
locks, and native bearers who bring silk, brass ware,
and piece-goods from Burma, in exchange for the
native-made dresses (panungs) and jungle produce:
sticklac, horns, and hides.
To Europeans the district owes its importance
to the teak trees scattered through the forests.
Chieng-Mai, the capital of the north, is the centre
of a great teak trade. In the hilly districts ele-
phants are very largely employed in moving the logs
to the water-courses, down which they float to the
river, but in the wide, flat valley of the Menam Po
the logs are often drawn on buffalo carts. In the
neighbourhood of the watershed on the Burmese
frontier it is often easier to send the logs down the
Salween than to get them to the Menam Ping, and
no inconsiderable portion of the timber shipped
from Moulmein was grown in Siam.
South of Raheng the country gradually changes
its character, and at Paknam Po, where the Menam
Ping and the Menam Po join to form the Menam
Chao P'hya, we get down into the great alluvial
plain which stretches to the sea. The Menam Chao
P'hya, the chief river of Siam, will henceforth be
spoken of simply as the Menam, "The Mother of
3
INTRODUCTION
Waters," though in Siamese this name is applied to
any river. Thirty miles south of the junction at Pak-
nam Po the united river divides again, and for the
remaining one hundred and twenty miles it flows in
two roughly parallel branches, whose mouths are
twenty miles apart. The eastern branch is the main
river, on which Bangkok stands. The river system
of southern Siam is completed by the Meklong,
which drains the western frontier, and by the short
Bangpakong River, which receives a considerable
volume of water from the highlands that bound the
plain on the east.
At no very distant geological epoch the Gulf of
Siam extended far beyond its present limits, and
the whole plain has been deposited by the great
rivers which come down heavily charged with the
detritus of the hills. At Bangkok sea-shells are
found twenty feet beneath the surface. The slope
of the land is there so gradual that the rivers are
tidal for more than sixty miles from the sea. The
average slope of the land is about one to nine thou-
sand, but the slope gradually decreases, and is much
less near the coast. The difference between ebb
and flood level is from ten to fourteen feet in the
gulf. It has been calculated that the land is making
at the head of the gulf at a rate of thirteen feet a
year. In the time of King Narai, whose reign ended
in 1688 A.D., the tide is said to have come up as far
as the town of Lopburi, which would indicate a
still faster rate of advance.
Every year during the rainy season the plain
4
INTRODUCTION
is inundated, in some parts to a depth of six feet.
As usual in an alluvial country, the ground falls
gently away from the river banks, and the rivers
run on imperceptible embankments, formed of their
own silt. A narrow strip along the bank is fairly
dry even in the wettest months, whilst in the inter-
mediate districts there are great marshes which
do not dry up until the hot season is far advanced.
The banks of the rivers are fringed with trees and
bamboos, which grow there not for the sake of
moisture, but to keep out of the water during the
floods. Naturally too the villages cluster along the
river banks.
The delta was originally covered with long grass
and brushwood, and vast tracts still remain, where
herds of wild elephants roam about, but the jungle
is being slowly replaced by cultivation, for this is
some of the richest rice-growing land in the world.
The whole of this part of the country is intersected
by a network of small rivers and artificial canals,
and almost all communication is by water. In the
rainy season steam launches can go up as far as
Utaradit, on the Menam Po. The Menam Ping
is never navigable for steam launches, and the
journey to Chieng-Mai must be made in an up-
country boat, with half-a-dozen natives to pole
or tow it up the rapids. At the most favourable
season the time spent in getting from Bangkok
to Chieng-Mai falls little short of that required to
travel from London to Bangkok. In the northern
provinces, and on the highlands which surround the
5
INTRODUCTION
delta, pack bullocks are the chief means of trans-
port on long journeys that cannot be made by river.
Bullock carts are largely employed in the villages
around the edge of the delta, but in the central
districts, which are deeply flooded every year,
the carts are almost invariably drawn by water-
buffaloes.
East of the Menam is the rice-growing plateau
of Korat, bounded on the south by the chain of
the Dongrek. Between this and the sea, highlands
and forest separate the basin of the Menam from the
equally rich plains of Cambodia.
Ethnologists tell us that the cradle-land of the
human race was a tropical continent, of which
Java, Borneo, Sumatra, and the Malay Peninsula
formed parts, and from whence man dispersed over
the globe in Pleistocene times. 1 It is therefore
probable that Siam was one of the very earliest
countries to be inhabited. In upper Burma palaeo-
lithic flints have been discovered, 2 but in Siam the
first inhabitants of whom traces have yet been found
were neolithic men. Many implements of polished
stone were discovered by M. Massie in the neigh-
bourhood of Luang Prabang; and at Korat, during
the construction of the railway, an adze of flint
and a chisel-shaped tool of some green stone were
found. 3 These stone implements are identical in
character with those from other parts of the world,
1 Keane, Man: Past and Present, chap. i.
* By Dr. Noetling in 1894. Ibid. p. 5.
By Mr. H. Gittins of the Royal Siamese Railway Department, who thus
described them to me.
6
INTRODUCTION
and the depth at which they were found indicates a
very high antiquity. From the form of the stone
axes it seems probable that even in that remote
period the inhabitants dug out canoes. 1 These
polished stones, whose origin has ages since been
forgotten, are called "thunder-stones" by the na-
tives, and amongst the Shans, as in ancient Greece,
they are worn as charms. 2
In Indo-China, as elsewhere, the Stone Age was
succeeded by the Age of Bronze. M. Massie has
found ancient bronze implements in the hands of
natives at Luang Prabang.
r In the lowlands of Indo-China the original stock
at an early date formed settled communities, which
have now been almost completely absorbed by suc-
cessive waves of invaders. In the wilder districts
the descendants of the autochthonous inhabitants
may be found to-day but little further advanced in
the scale of civilisation than their forefathers of the
Stone Age. Such are the Semangs and Sakai of
the Malay Peninsula naked savages, who use blow-
pipes and poisoned darts. They are also represented
by the Kuis of Cambodia, by the widely scattered
race of the Karens, and by the Lawas, Rongs, and
the Khas of the Lao country. 3 It is interesting to
compare the pottery and many objects still made by
some of these semi-savage peoples with the grave
1 Mission Pavie, Exploration de Vlndo-Chine, vol. i. Note by M. Massie.
8 Keane, op. cit. p. 172.
* Lawa, Rong, and Kha simply mean "wild" or "barbarous," and they
must not be taken as the real tribal names, but only as names which have been
applied to these peoples by their more civilised neighbours.
7
INTRODUCTION
goods and stone ornaments found in ancient kitchen
middens. 1
Ethnologically they represent very diverse types:
Negritic in the Semangs and Sakai, and Caucasic
amongst the Kuis, Karens, and Khas showing that
at some very distant epoch there must have been
widespread movements amongst the great divisions
of mankind. In the Mans of Tong-King the Cau-
casic element is very strong, and these people say
that they came "from a far-off Western land, where
their forefathers were said to have lived in contact
with peoples of white blood thousands of years ago." 2
The earliest invaders of Indo-China seem to have
been a Mongolian race who came originally from
the great central plateaus of Asia, and to whom the
name of " Proto-Malays " may be given. They
were driven by later invaders from the lowlands of
Indo-China to the islands of the Indian and Pacific
Oceans, and there, mingling with the autochthonous
inhabitants, gave rise to the various Malay groups.
From the islands they recrossed to the Malay
Peninsula in the twelfth century A.D.
The first great kingdom to arise in Indo-China
was that of the Champas, which embraced southern
Tong-King, Annam, and part of central Siam. I
am now speaking of a time six hundred years before
the Christian era, and, according to the legends pre-
served by the natives, the great lake, Tale Sap, was
1 Mission Pa vie, op. cit. Note by M. Ludovic Jammes, who speaks par-
ticularly of the kitchen middens of the "Somronsen Epoch" a term which
I have been unable to identify.
1 Keane, op. cit. p. 205.
8
INTRODUCTION
then joined to the sea, forming a gulf which pene-
trated far into the interior. This gulf, into which
the Mekong flowed, two hundred miles from its
present mouth, formed the outlet of the Champa
kingdom. From the interior came ivory and pre-
cious stones, rare spices, lac, and valuable woods.
It was the "Golden Chersonese" of the old Western
writers. At this time India already enjoyed a high
civilisation. Her merchants sent navies far across
the seas; her sailors were skilful and hardy naviga-
tors, not creeping round within sight of land, but
boldly sailing across the Bay of Bengal, and round-
ing the Malay Peninsula, in search of that fabled
land which lay beyond.
Thus, first attracted by love of gain, and later
perhaps by missionary zeal, numerous groups of
Indians settled on the banks of the Mekong. For
centuries the work of colonisation and civilisation
went on, until, in the third century before Christ,
the Land of Gold was morally, though not politically,
a dependency of India, and Brahminism had to a
great extent replaced that snake- worship which was
the original religion of the country. 1 In a lesser
degree other ancient navigators established relations
with the dwellers on the Mekong, and Persians,
Babylonians, Egyptians, and Chinese all left their
mark upon the primitive inhabitants. In those days
there was a caravan route from the Red Sea to
the Nile, which thus formed the great channel of
communication between East and West, and it is
1 Aymonier, Le Cambodge, vol. iii. p. 348 el aeq.
9
INTRODUCTION
possible that even the Romans visited these distant
shores in the first centuries of our era. At all events
nothing is more remarkable in the old Cambodian
legends than the frequent mention of white men and
a prince of "Rome." 1
The Proto-Malays, who formed the most impor-
tant element in the races of southern Annam and
Cambodia, were profoundly modified by intermar-
riage with the Hindu immigrants. Moreover, the
Proto-Malays were themselves fused upon a still
earlier Caucasic stock the Kuis, or "Original
Khmers" as the Cambodians call them. Thus in
the delta of the Mekong a new people arose, who
were of Caucasic rather than Mongolian descent,
and as they grew into a powerful nation they
absorbed the Champa kingdom.
Henceforth I shall speak of them as the Khmers,
or Cambodians. M. Aymonier believes the latter
name to have been derived from Kambu, who, like
another Manu, was the lawgiver and the mytho-
logical ancestor of the Indians established on the
Mekong. 2 Thus Kambujas, "Sons of Kambu,"
became the title of the noble caste, and was extended
1 The legends referred to are those collected by Dr. Adolph Bastian, and
more especially by Colonel Low, from Siamese books. Fergusson, History of
Architecture, vol. ii. p. 724 (1865). Mr. Warington Smyth gives many inter-
esting points of resemblance between the modern craft of the rivers and Gulf
of Siam and those ships of the early Mediterranean navigators with which
Egyptian sculptures and classical writers have made us familiar. Five Years
in Siam, appendix xviii.
1 Aymonier, op. cit. vol. Hi. p. 401. Manu was the lawgiver of the Brah-
mins. He corresponded to the Menes of the Egyptians or to King Minos of
Crete.
10
INTRODUCTION
by official use to the whole people. The most an-
cient document of Indo-China yet discovered belongs
to the third century A.D., and it is written in pure
classic Sanscrit. The later inscriptions are in a
character resembling the Kawi of the Javanese,
and they have only recently been deciphered by
the labours of M. Aymonier and the members of
M. Pavie's mission.
The earliest monuments of this people are found
in the southern part of the alluvial plain. On the
banks of the Prek T'hnot, and in the province of
Bati, the numerous architectural remains are evi-
dence of a former dense population. 1 According
to M. Aymonier the inscriptions dug up in these
edifices date from the sixth century A.D., but the
buildings were raised on the sites and constructed
out of the materials of more ancient temples. For
the most part they consist of sanctuaries, which
occur either singly or in groups of three or five.
They are generally built of brick, raised on a mound
of earth or a platform of laterite, but sometimes
they are built entirely of laterite, a conglomerated
schist and iron ore. A small cubical chamber,
whose side measures from six to ten feet, is sur-
mounted by a pyramidal structure, the entrance
almost invariably towards the east, and often ap-
proached through a porch. Sometimes the porch
connects the sanctuary with a much larger rectan-
1 Throughout the following description of these ancient temples I am in-
debted to the Inventaire Descriptif des Monuments du Cambodge par E. Lund,
de Lajonquiere. Publications de Vtcole FranQaise d'Extrkme Orient, 1901.
Vol. iv. introduction.
11
INTRODUCTION
gular edifice or nave, with gabled roof supported by
four rows of square pillars. The interior is lit
by windows in the side walls, and the nave is entered
by three doors in its eastern face, sheltered by a
portico. These naves are often of later date than
the sanctuaries to which they are attached; they
do not occur in the most ancient temples, and
their appearance coincides with the development of
Buddhism. They are, in fact, the prototypes of the
modern Buddhist temples found throughout Siam.
A slightly different form of religious edifice is the
prang, which consists of a high pyramid formed by
terraced stages and supporting a little sanctuary,
reached by a staircase on each of the four faces.
The ancient Babylonian temples were built in this
way. This form is also common to-day in Siam,
though the sanctuary is replaced by a relic chamber,
generally completely walled in, and surmounted by
a pointed column.
The provinces of Lovea Em and Kien Svay con-
tain no archaeological vestiges, probably because
at the architectural epoch of the Cambodians they
were of very recent formation and unsuited to be
the sites of durable edifices. They were, indeed,
at that time no more than vast swamps, in which
stood some islands of higher ground, such as Pnom
Penh. But it is north of the lakes, beyond the
region of the annual inundation, that we find in the
Nakawn Wat and at Angkor Tom those architec-
tural remains which place the Cambodians amongst
the great building races of the world. Nakawn and
INTRODUCTION
Angkor are corruptions of the Indian Nagara. Tom
means simply "The Great City."
The later Cambodian temples were elaborations
of the early brick sanctuaries. The sanctuary was
surrounded by one or more rectangular enclosures,
which, in their simplest form, consisted of a wall of
laterite eight or nine feet in height. The point of
intersection of the major and minor axes of the
enclosure immediately surrounding the sanctuary
did not correspond with the point of intersection
of the axes of the sanctuary itself, but was displaced
in the direction of its major axis towards the east.
Nor was the outer enclosure symmetrically built
about the inner, but it was similarly displaced still
farther to the east. Small buildings, used as relic
chambers or libraries, were built in the eastern part
of the enclosures, in pairs symmetrically placed
about the major axis of the temple. The temple
was entered through a structure called a gopura,
which broke the continuity of the enclosing wall.
Originally these gopuras were square halls. Later
they took a rectangular shape, so that as one passed
through the gateway a deep recess was seen on
either side. Sometimes they were cruciform, and
surmounted by a pyramidal tower. The approach
to the temple was marked by two lines of stones,
and in the great temples these stone avenues were
continued through the enclosures themselves, form-
ing a system of axial galleries. The main entrance
to the temple was almost always towards the east;
but in the greatest of all, the Nakawn Wat, it is
13
INTRODUCTION
on the west, and the displacement of the enclosures
is towards the west instead of towards the east.
In the days of Angkor Tom's greatness paved
causeways were constructed between the city and
the river Mekong, and from that river a road ran
for more than three hundred miles in a north-easterly
direction to Korat. Small rivers were bridged over
by huge slabs of laterite supported upon massive
piers, and solid retaining walls were built to keep
the stream within its banks. Some of these bridges
still remain, and in the heart of the jungle the trav-
eller may still come upon traces of the old roads,
half buried beneath the forest.
From the inscriptions M. Aymonier concludes
that it was towards the eighth century A.D. that
the Khmer kings moved their residence to the north
of the lakes, and that the most splendid period of
their empire began. Such a removal from a fertile
land to a region covered with endless forest is, how-
ever, opposed to the whole tendency of the progress
of nations in Indo-China, and we can only believe
that it was caused through the stress of some great
political upheaval or religious movement. Thus
M. Pallegoix suggests that these buildings were the
outcome or, as it were, the visible expression of the
religious revival which must have taken place when
Buddhism was introduced from Ceylon in the tenth
century. Against this must be placed the unmis-
takably Brahminical character of the oldest temples
at Angkor.
It is more probable that the impulse came from
14
INTRODUCTION
some new invasion. Tradition tells of a king who
came from the North, and who founded a city on
the shores of the Great Lake. Fergusson connects
this legend with the troubles which took place in
Cashmere at the beginning of the fourth century
A.D., and it is probable that about that time a great
migration took place from western India. In sup-
port of this he shows that although the gopuras and
spires of the Nakawn Wat recall the Dravidian types
of southern India, yet it has much also in com-
mon with the temples of Cashmere. Moreover, in
ancient times, the country around Taxilia was called
Camboja. 1 A further connection with northern India
is to be found in the inscriptions. In the time of
the earliest kings of Angkor they were written in a
double character: one the ancient Cambodian, or
Khmer, originating in southern India, and the other
apparently coming from northern India. 2
In the legends, which will be found in the last
chapter, the invaders are said to have come from
the old Lao capital, Indapat-Buri. The suffix Buri
is equivalent to Tom, meaning "city." This name
seems to have been applied to Angkor Tom, and
before it to the older kingly residence in the Kulen
hills near by. It is a corruption of Indra-prastha,
the old Delhi of the Mahabharata, and so far it
confirms the theory that the builders came from
north-west India. The name, however, nowhere
1 Fergusson, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 714. Taxila is the modern Shah Dheri.
? These inscriptions belong to the time of Yasovarman, 889-909, in whose
reign M. Aymonier believes that the building of Angkor Tom was completed.
Le Cambodge, vol. iii. p. 479.
15
INTRODUCTION
occurs in the inscriptions, and Colonel Gerini
believes that it was applied in comparatively modern
times, at the suggestion of later Hindu immigrants,
who saw in the grandeur of the Cambodian capital
a revival of their own past glorious history.
To me the theory that the kings of Angkor were
indeed Laos, as the legends say, seems worthy of
attention. In the modern Cambodians the Cau-
casic strain has been almost entirely eliminated,
and I am tempted to think that at some very early
date the Cambodians received a notable infusion
of the blood of the common ancestors of Siamese
and Laos.
I should suppose that the shock of that upheaval
in Cashmere was communicated across the continent,
and set in motion the Lao tribes, who, as we shall
presently see, had recently settled in the upper part
of the Menam Valley. Crossing the Korat plateau
they swooped upon the highly civilised, Hinduised
inhabitants of the plains, and became their masters.
The site of their royal residence was well chosen
on the Great Lake, which was their first outlet to
the sea. In time emigrants from northern India
followed in the track of conquest, keeping mainly
to great trade routes, but leaving everywhere traces
of their art. And out of the mingling of the two
streams of civilisation from northern and southern
India grew an architecture finer than either had
produced alone, which, while it kept something of
the style of each, added also something that was
indigenous to the soil on which they met.
16
INTRODUCTION
In the Mongolian character of the faces of the
deified females, which are constantly repeated at
the Nakawn Wat, we see at least a probability that
the ruling race was of Mongolian and not Caucasic
descent. 1 But, whoever ruled in Angkor, I cannot
agree with those who think that the bulk of the
inhabitants were serfs, employed upon these great
works by their alien masters. Indeed, as Thomson
says, "There is a thoroughness about their edifices
and a genuine love of art evinced in all their sculp-
tures: in the tender tracery lavished without stint
upon the stones, in the uniform grace of every
curving stem, in each delicately chiselled lotus or
lily, such as never could have come out of the lash
of the slave, out of ill-requited, unwilling hands,
or out of the crushed spirit of a bondsman." 2
Rather may we not suppose that the construction
of Angkor Tom was the natural result of a high
civilisation which received a new impetus from the
warlike and conquering Northerners? In any case,
from about the middle of the seventh to that of the
thirteenth century the kingdom of the Khmers was
all-powerful in Indo-China, embracing modern Cam-
bodia and Siam as far north as the eighteenth
degree. 3
The inhabitants of the Menam Valley were closely
allied to the Khmers by race, forming a link
between them and the Mons and Peguans of the
1 Fergusson, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 724, and see illustration facing p. 290.
* Thomson, The Straits of Malacca, Indo-China, and China, p. 132.
3 Monograph on " Siamese Archaeology," by Colonel Gerini, published in
The Kingdom of Siam, p. 223.
17
INTRODUCTION
delta of the Irrawadi. 1 Many secondary states
divided the basin of the Menam, but all were under
the suzerainty of the predominant Cambodian power,
and they were, therefore, imbued with Cambodian
civilisation. They received besides, from an early
date, direct influence from India, whose traders
were established throughout the length of the west
coast of the Malay Peninsula, whence they crossed
overland to the Gulf of Siam. 2 At the dawn of the
Christian era Buddhism had already reached the
head of the gulf, and soon spread over all the delta
of the Menam. 3 The oldest monuments found here
are Buddhist in character: brick spires or pra
prangs, standing on a basement of laterite. There
are besides, scattered throughout southern and
central Siam, examples of those sanctuaries sur-
mounted by blunt spires of a Dravidian type, which
I have already described as typical of the Cam-
bodians. 4 At Ratburi and Supan they are found,
and at Ayuthia and Lopburi and Sukot'hai, while
at Pimai, a day's journey to the north of Korat, the
remains are scarcely inferior to those at Angkor
itself. As in Cambodia, these sanctuaries are almost
always associated with later developments of a
purely Buddhist character. How far the spread of
Buddhism led to these additions by the Cambodians
themselves it is difficult to say, but the greater
number were probably due to the Siamese. To
them at least must be ascribed the form of spire
1 Aymonier, op. cit. vol. iii. p.
3 Ibid. p. 214.
18
2 Gerini, op. cit. p. 214.
4 p. 10.
INTRODUCTION
known as pra chedi. Even the sanctuary itself may
not always have been built by the Cambodians, for
in later times the old forms were copied by the
Siamese. The use of laterite in large blocks may,
however, generally be taken as an indication that
the building really dates from the epoch of the
Cambodian domination.
The first important capital in the Menam delta
was the city of Sri Vijaya, on the site of modern
Prapratom. 1 Here were dug up the earliest epi-
graphic records yet discovered in the country of the
delta terra-cotta tablets containing the Buddhist
profession of faith in Pali. The character in which
they are written is of a type belonging to southern
India, and it indicates that they date from the sixth
or seventh century A.D. 2 The main outlet of the
river was then its western branch, now known as
the Tachin River, and at that time this branch flowed
through the city some ten miles west of its present
course. In the chain of lakes and marshes, still
called by the natives the Menam Kao " Old
River" we can clearly trace in many places the
former bed of the river.
In time Sri Vijaya was left far from the river
bank, and the capital was moved to Suvarnabhumi,
about eight miles west of the modern village of
Supan. When, in its changing course, the main
river flowed through the eastern channel the capital
was removed to Lopburi. A Khmer inscription has
been found at Lopburi bearing two dates which
1 Gerini, op. cit. p. 215. * Ibid. p. 223.
19
INTRODUCTION
correspond to A.D. 1022 and A.D. 1025. 1 Still the
river bed altered, and when Lopburi was left on
an unimportant and shallow creek the capital was
moved down to Dvaravadi, which was soon to be
the Ayuthia of the Siamese.
A second stream of Indian traders flowed into
Siam through Pegu, and brought with them a more
purely Brahminical influence. The oldest structures
in central and northern Siam date from before the
Christian era. Colonel Gerini describes them as
"gloomy shrines and hermit cells, erected mostly
on the tops and flanks of the hills, and carefully
oriented according to the cardinal points. They
are characterised by massive cyclopean walls sur-
mounted by gable roofs, all built of laterite blocks
excavated near by, and laid throughout in horizontal
courses without any cement; their unique entrance,
which faces the east, curving towards the top into
a pointed, often lancet-shaped arch. The style quite
resembles that of the ancient central and northern
India temples, thus evidencing that their planning,
and perhaps construction, was due at least in part
to immigrants and settlers from those quarters." 2
Meanwhile, far to the north of Siam, the great
Tai-Shan race dwelt in what are now the south-
west provinces of China. The Tai-Shans are a
Mongolian people who, in the dawn of their history,
migrated from the Kiu-lung Mountains in China
proper, and by intermingling with the Caucasic
aborigines (Kakhyens), south of the Yangtse Kiang,
1 Ibid. p. 223. Gerini, op. cit. p. 216.
20
INTRODUCTION
they acquired a finer physique than the surround-
ing Mongolian groups. As the Chinese advanced
southward beyond the Yangtse Kiang they amal-
gamated with the Shans. But some of the Shan
tribes, while too weak to stem the advancing tide
of Chinese civilisation, would yet not consent to lose
their nationality nor to sacrifice their proud title of
Tai the "Noble" or "Free." * So they dispersed
towards the south, and began that long march which
was only to end when they reached the sea.
The Tai-Shans arrived in the Menam basin by
stages, and their successive capitals show that the
seat of empire moved steadily southward. It was,
if we accept the evidence of tradition, the advanced
guard of this slow-moving horde which was hurled
by the course of events upon the inhabitants of
the Cambodian plains; but henceforth they were
entirely cut off from the main body, and as kings
of Angkor they waged incessant war upon the later
comers. The history of the early capitals of the
Tai-Shans in northern and central Siam is very
obscure, and little help can be obtained from the
Siamese Annals of the North, which, as the late King
Mongkut said, are "full of fable." In the north
the Tai-Shans asserted independence at an early
date, and Lampun remained their capital from the
sixth century until 1281 A.D., when it was supplanted
by Chieng-Mai. 2
l The Siamese still call themselves by this name, which they aspirate,
Thai.
1 Gerini, op. cii. p. 215.
21
INTRODUCTION
Meanwhile they held central Siam only as the
vassals of the kings of Angkor, just as our Norman
kings were independent monarchs of England, but
owed allegiance to the king of France for Nor-
mandy. 1 Nevertheless this tributary state soon
rose to great importance, with its capital alternately
at Sawankalok and Sukot'hai. These cities were
ancient strongholds of Brahminism, but with the
advent of the Tai-Shans Buddhism and Brahminism
seem to have flourished simultaneously.
While the power of Cambodia was still at its
height the Tai-Shans were pressing southward
through the hilly country on the west of the Menam
Valley, and penetrating far into the Malay Penin-
sula. According to the Malay annals they had
reached the Straits of Malacca before the Malays
crossed from Sumatra and founded their first col-
ony at Singapore, in 1160 A.D.
The Tai-Shans are lighter in colour than the
other races of Indo-China, and though smaller in
stature than the Chinese they are taller than the
Malays. In the south the Tai-Shans mingled with
the Malays and Cambodians, and their descendants
are darker than those of their cousins, who remained
behind in the highlands of the north. It will be
convenient to speak henceforth of this southern
branch of the Tai-Shan race as the Siamese, whilst
the northern branch is divided into the Laos on the
east, and the Shans on the west.
The early language of the Tai-Shans was poly-
1 Aymonier, op. cit. vol. iii. p. 691.
INTRODUCTION
syllabic, but by phonetic decay the sounds were
reduced to monosyllables, and gradations of tone
were employed to denote differences of meaning. 1
In Siamese there are five tones, and there are
practically no grammatical inflections. Very many
words in Siamese are derived directly from the
Sanscrit, while others have passed through the
intermediate stage of Pali.
The name Sayama (Sanscrit S'yama, "brown-
coloured") first appears in an inscription dated
1050 A.D., and again in a Khmer inscription of the
twelfth century at the Nakawn Wat. 2 Our form,
Siam, was brought to us through the Portuguese
Siao, and it is the same word as Shan.
It was about the middle of the thirteenth century
that the half-legendary national hero, Pra Ruang,
threw off the Cambodian yoke, and established at
Sukot'hai the first capital of independent Siamese
kings. Tradition assigns a much earlier date to
this event, which is placed in the year 638 A.D.
From this date the old civil calendar of the Siamese
is reckoned the calendar which is still used by
the people, though it has been supplanted by the
Gregorian calendar for official purposes. 3 The same
date marks the beginning of the "Common Era"
of Burma, but Colonel Gerini has shown that this
era was only introduced in the sixteenth century.
Up to the year 1500 A.D. those records which bear
1 Keane, op. cit. p. 202. * Aymonier, op. cit. vol. iii. p. 680.
8 The old calendar was a lunar calendar. In the official calendar the years
are reckoned from the founding of the present dynasty, 1781.
23
INTRODUCTION
dates are invariably dated by the Saka era, A.D.
78. 1
We are told that Pra Ruang was of humble birth,
the son of a small official who superintended the
labour of carting water from a famous spring at
Lopburi to Angkor Tom for the king's personal
use. When little more than a child, Pra Ruang
showed that he possessed miraculous power by
carrying the water in ordinary baskets. The sover-
eign, becoming alarmed for his safety if he permitted
a being so powerful to grow up, sought to destroy
him, but Pra Ruang fled to Sukot'hai, where he
entered a monastery. During his subsequent reign
many colossal pagodas were erected. The architec-
ture of his time was often exceedingly graceful, but
it belonged to a decadent period which elaborated
in brick and plaster the older types of stone.
The oldest inscription in the Siamese language
was found at Sukot'hai, and dates from about
1300 A.D. 2 It is engraved in the square Siamese
character, which had just come into use. This
character was, like Cambodian, derived from Indian
alphabets, and the forms of the letters were influ-
enced by the materials used in writing, whether
stones engraved with chisels, or palm-leaves written
on with styles. 3
For a century Sukot'hai remained the capital.
During all this time the Cambodian power was
1 Gerini, op. cii. p. 224. * Gerini, op. cit. p. 223.
* Monograph on the "Language of Siam," by Dr, 0, Frankfurter, published
in The Kingdom of Siam, p. 89.
24
INTRODUCTION
wasted by continual warfare with the Siamese,
and in 1350 Pra Chao U T'hong founded a new
Siamese capital at Ayuthia. This date marks the
end of the Cambodian domination in the Menam
Valley and the beginning of authentic Siamese
history.
About this time Javanese records mention an
invasion of their island by Cambodians, but these
were probably captives who had been forced to
fight for their Siamese conquerors. 1
It is probable that while the king reigned at
Sukot'hai he delegated a portion of his authority
to a brother, or to some great official, who reigned
in some distant town as a practically independent
monarch. Thus Kampeng Pet, on the western
branch of the river, is often spoken of as the imme-
diate precursor of Ayuthia as the capital of the
Siamese. In an interesting paper read before the
Siam Society, Prince Damrong shows that there is
a strong probability that the ancestors of Pra Chao
TJ T'hong moved from Kampeng Pet to the old
city of Suvarnabhumi, south-west of modern Supan.
The meaning of this name is "The Origin of Gold,"
or in Siamese U Thong, and the king who reigned
there was referred to simply as "the King of U
T'hong," or Pra Chao U Thong. This city was
abandoned, tradition says, on account of an epi-
demic; and Pra Chao U T'hong, journeying in a
north-easterly direction, crossed the Tachin River at
a place still called "The Crossing of King U T'hong,"
>Jeane, O p. cit. p. 207, foot-note.
25
INTRODUCTION
and made his new capital Ayuthia, on the banks of
the Menam. 1
For four hundred years from the foundation of
Ayuthia Siam continued a powerful state, generally
triumphing over its neighbours, and at times treat-
ing on equal terms with China. Whenever the
Siamese were successful in their wars vast deporta-
tions of prisoners took place, and this in part accounts
for the fact that there are now very few Siamese
of pure blood. During the sixteenth century the
Portuguese established a regular trade with Siam,
and in 1555, when the Peguans and Burmese were
besieging Ayuthia, the defenders were helped by
Portuguese. A curious incident occurred in 1592,
when Siam proffered aid to China against Japan,
who wished to take possession of Korea. The
military reputation of the Japanese was then very
great, and a few years before five hundred Japanese
mercenaries had helped Siam to repulse an attack
from the Burmese. 2 About this time, too, Siam
entered into commercial relations with Japan, and
for many years there was a large Japanese colony
at Ayuthia. The Japanese seem to have occupied
almost the same position as Europeans do now,
but eventually the jealousy of the Siamese nobles
was aroused, and a massacre took place, the sur-
vivors being expelled from the country. In later
years the Dutch became the greatest traders with
1 The foundation of Ayuthia by H.R.H. Prince Damrong, Journal of the
Siam Society, vol. i.
8 Bangkok Directory, historical note.
26
INTRODUCTION
the East, and at one time they had a factory, called
New Amsterdam, near the mouth of the Menam.
In the reign of Louis XIV embassies were
exchanged between Siam and France. The great
King Narai then ruled at Ayuthia, and the splen-
dour of his capital was such that it dazzled even
writers accustomed to the court of the Grand Mo-
narque. At that time the Dutch had established a
strong fort at Malacca, and imposed a toll upon
all the ships that passed. The foreign affairs of
Siam were managed by the king's great minister,
Constantine Phaulcon, a Greek, who first came to
Siam as the agent of an English East India mer-
chant, and whose history will hereafter be narrated
at greater length. Under the pretext of freeing the
Gulf of Siam from the Dutch yoke, but in reality,
as some said, designing to bring the kingdom under
French domination, and to change the established
religion of the country, he prevailed upon the king
to show extraordinary favour to the French. Not
only did King Narai give them commands in the
guards about his person, but they were actually
"masters and in possession of the two chief places
that open a passage into the kingdom, viz., Bangkok,
a great and strong fortress on the mouth of the
River of Siam, and Margen situated on the fron-
tiers." "Margen" is probably the same as "Mir-
gim," a town marked upon an old map of 1596, and
apparently corresponding to Ratburi.
It is not surprising that the resentment of the
Siamese was stirred against the foreigners, as it had
27
INTRODUCTION
been against the Japanese before them. When the
king lay upon his death-bed, "Opra Pitrachard," the
minister of his household, seized the reins of power,
and the course of events is sufficiently indicated in
the title-page of a contemporary work published in
1690, and entitled "A Full and True Relation of
the ^ Great and Wonderful Revolution that happened
lately in the Kingdom of Siam, in the East Indies.
Giving a particular Account of the Seizing and
Death of the Late King, and of the Setting up of a
New One, as also of the putting to Death of the
King's only Daughter, His Adopted Son, who was
a Christian, his two Brothers: and of Monsieur
Constance, his Great Minister of State, and Favourer
of the French; and of the Expulsion of all the Jes-
uits, Missionary Priests, Officers and Soldiers of
the French Nation out of that Kingdom that
endeavoured to bring it under the French Domina-
tion. Being the Substance of several letters writ
in Octob. 1688 and Febr. 1689. From Siam, and
the Coast of Coromandel. Never before published
in any Language, and now translated into English."
The handful of French in Bangkok were besieged
by an army of sixty thousand "Mahumetans,
Chinese, and Malayans"; but though the garrison
only numbered three hundred they successfully beat
off all attacks. After two months' close siege a
treaty was signed between Opra Pitrachard and
the heroic defender, M. des Farges, whereby the
French surrendered the fort of Bangkok, and all
the French in Siam had leave to depart. Further-
28
INTRODUCTION
more, they were to be given "two Frigates belong-
ing to the French Company, a ship of the French
King's called the Auriflame and a fourth of seventy-
four guns that the King of Siam was to give to M.
des Farges to embarque on and Transport them out
of the King of Siam's Dominions." The usurper,
Opra Pitrachard, was thus left in undisputed pos-
session of the kingdom, and he became the founder
of a new dynasty.
This chapter of Siamese history was brought to
a close by the Burmese invasion and the destruc-
tion of Ayuthia in 1767. Then ensued a period
of anarchy. At length P'hya Tak Sin, a man of
Chinese extraction, gathered together the bands
of dacoits who ravaged the country, and with this
army he drove out the Burmans. He then had
himself crowned king at Bangkok, which has re-
mained the capital city ever since. P'hya Tak Sin
proved a strong ruler. During his short reign he
subdued the northern provinces, and compelled
certain states in the Malay Peninsula to recognise
him as their overlord. These states had long been
ruled by semi-independent princes or rajahs, who
were theoretically tributary to Siam, but who often
asserted their complete independence when Siam
was weak. The suzerainty of Siam was, and still
is, acknowledged by sending gold flowers to the
capital. In the days of King Narai the Siamese
dominion extended to the Strait of Malacca.
P'hya Tak Sin seems to have eventually gone
mad, and in 1781 he was overthrown by the general
29
INTRODUCTION
of his armies, Chao P'hya Chakkri, a pure Siamese,
and the founder of the present dynasty. He it was
who built the modern city of Bangkok, on the east
bank of the river. The old town and palace were
on the west bank.
In 1795 the provinces of Battambong and Siem-
rap were wrested from the waning power of Cam-
bodia; but centuries before this these once populous
provinces had sunk back into their original state
of pathless jungle. No longer an outlet to the sea,
the Great Lake now formed a mere backwater of
the Mekong, and the ancient city of Angkor Tom
had long since been deserted for a new capital in
the plains.
Early in the nineteenth century the Laos were
finally conquered, and their king was led captive to
Bangkok, whilst Luang Prabang and a large slice
of trans-Mekong territory were also brought under
Siamese dominion. From that time to the present
the history of the Siamese shows a constant effort
to consolidate their dominions, and at the same time
more intimate relations have been established with
European powers. In 1855 a treaty of commerce
and friendship was signed between Great Britain
and Siam. Similar treaties followed soon after-
wards with the other European powers and with the
United States. The incessant wars with Cambodia
were at length brought to an end in 1863, when
France declared a Protectorate over the remnant
of that kingdom.
One other important change in the boundaries
30
i
INTRODUCTION
of Siam took place in 1893, when, as the out-
come of troubles with France, she was stripped
of the provinces which lay to the east of the
Mekong.
King Chulalongkorn, the ruler of Siam, died Oc-
tober 23, 1910, and is succeeded by his son Chowfa
Maha Vajiravudh who was thirty years old on his
succession. The late king was born September 21,
1853, and was a mere boy when he ascended the
throne. He was quick to adopt Western methods,
and was fond of arts and letters, and travelled in
England and on the Continent. Although favour-
ing modern Western institutions, he retained all the
glory and pomp of an Oriental ruler. His costumes
were gorgeous. He was generally admired and loved
by his subjects.
His domestic circle was large. He had two wives
and about 100 concubines. The mother of the
crown prince is the recognised queen. All the chil-
dren, estimated to be as many as 236, are on an
equal footing.
The new King was born January 1, 1881. He went
to England in 1894, and during his eight years there
studied first under a private master, later at Sand-
hurst College, and at Oxford University.
During his stay at Oxford, he wrote a little volume
on "The War of the Polish Succession."
He visited the United States in 1902, and is well
imbued with American ideas.
31
SIAM
THE LOTUS LAND
CHAPTER I
BANGKOK
"Praise teachers while they are present, subordinates after their work is
done, and friends when absent." Maxim of PRA RUANQ.
AT Singapore the traveller bound for Siam
quits the great liner and embarks upon
one of the small steamers which take the
mails to Bangkok. The steamer makes for the low
mangrove-fringed shore which marks his destination
and presently enters the muddy Bangkok River.
On either side stretch salt marshes, soon hidden
behind the luxuriant vegetation. Here on the oozy
banks are fern-like attap and rank tropical growths,
half submerged, while rising from the firmer ground
behind are the slender trunks and graceful fronds of
areca and cocoanut palms. Near the mouth of the
river the customs officers come on board. The trav-
eller will be relieved of any fire-arms, but these can
be recovered if he obtains a consular permit.
Bangkok is twelve miles from the coast in a direct
line, but so tortuous is the river that it is fully three
hours before we arrive. Here a score of small steam-
ers are anchored in mid-stream. Others lie alongside
the wharfs, together with sailing vessels of all de-
scriptions: merchantmen from Europe, rice boats
from up country, and fishing boats from the gulf.
Everywhere we see Chinese toiling. Boats ply to and
33
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
fro between the banks, and every now and then the
smaller vessels are set dancing and plunging in the
wash of the steam launches which tear by. At length
we too draw in to a wharf, and land amidst piles of
goods. Let us suppose that a merciful providence
has relieved us of the necessity of looking after our
belongings, and so let us go forth and see what
manner of place this is.
Behind the wharfs and mills which line the river
on its eastern side, we come upon a long street,
white and dusty in the dry months and in the rainy
season a lane of filthy mud. Here at all seasons
a motley crowd of Chinese, Siamese, Malays, Hin-
dus, and Mahometans jostle each other, while
coolies toil along at a foot pace with 'rickshaws in
the last stages of dilapidation. A crazy gharry,
bearing a far-distant resemblance to a London
growler and drawn by a diminutive pony, bumps
over the uneven surface, and on one side of the
road electric trams, packed with natives, are screech-
ing along the ill-laid track. None of these methods
of locomotion appeals to us, nor with the tropic sun
blazing down out of a cloudless sky do we feel
inclined to mingle with the throng of pedestrians.
However, if we are lucky we may find near by a
stable, at which we can hire a pair-horse gharry,
a sort of miniature victoria. We will not look on
while the ponies are being put in, for it is not well
to know exactly how much string is used in the
composition of our harness. It is certain that the
proportion is large, but if only the reins hold out
34
BANGKOK
we must feel thankful. Should they fail us we can
trust our driver to tug vigorously at any parts of
the harness that come within his reach. He will
generally succeed in pulling it all off, and this will
have the unexpected result of bringing the ponies
to a standstill. Our lives will be spared, but much
delay will be caused while the harness is being tied
together again. When all is ready we can take
our seats, but we must not be surprised if the ponies
show a certain reluctance to start. The bystanders
will cheerfully push us along, while our driver, a
youthful Malay, or possibly a Chinaman, stands
beside the ponies and applies the lash, until with
extreme suddenness they break away at a hand gal-
lop, and we are bounding up the street. The driver
springs nimbly to his seat, how w r e neither know
nor care; for the first few minutes we are too much
interested in observing how it is that the other
occupants of the road escape destruction to heed
aught else. 'Rickshaws scatter and fly before
our headlong advance, and should one be tardy
in getting out of the way the unfortunate coolie
is not likely to escape a sounding cut with the
whip.
On either side are rows of one-storied wooden
houses. The shops on the ground floor are quite
open to the street, and we can see Chinese carpen-
ters, tailors, and bootmakers at work inside, while
elsewhere cheap English cotton goods and hard-
ware are displayed. Now and then we pass a
Chinese joss-house with fantastic roof -ridge, and
35
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
through the open door we see an altar decked with
tinsel and peacocks' feathers.
A sudden vicious crackle of fireworks, as some
Chinaman scares away the evil spirits from his
threshold, is too common an incident of the streets
of Bangkok to disturb the equanimity of our ponies.
Our driver expects us to direct him at every
turning, so if we say nothing he will keep straight
on and we shall presently come to the old city
wall, whitewashed now, and much disfigured with
telegraph wires, but with picturesque battlements
shaped like the leaves of the sacred Bo tree. Within
we are at once sensible of a great improvement
as we bowl over the well-kept surface of a broad
avenue, planted with plane-trees and bordered by
neat rows of brick houses. As we cross a canal
we catch a glimpse of trees reflected in the water,
and trim lawns, and beyond them pagodas blazing
with pure gold in the sunlight. This is the official
quarter; in it are all the Government offices, the
Law Courts, and many of the finest temples; here
too is the Royal Palace, whose brilliant roofs and
iridescent spires are seen over the dazzling white-
ness of the outer wall.
Here let us take leave of our gharry, which has
brought us a good three miles, and ascend to a
spot whence we can obtain a view over all the city.
Just outside the city wall is the "Golden Mount,"
a bell-shaped mound faced with brick, but so over-
grown by trees that it has the appearance of a
natural hillock. On the summit is a little shrine
36
BANGKOK
surmounted by a pagoda, and to it leads a flight
of steps, winding around the hill. From here we
look down upon a forest of palms and plane-trees,
through which break the red roofs of the houses.
Everywhere rising above the trees are graceful spires
and the manifold roofs of temples, with their tiles of
rich orange or deep purple, great splashes of colour
against the clear blue sky. To this place we may
often return to watch the dawn stealing over the
paddy fields, whilst at our feet the palm-trees rise
through a veil of purple mist; or when at evening
the pink rays of the setting sun are shooting half-
way to the zenith we may come up here and see the
thousand pinnacles of Bangkok, outlined in the rifts
between low-lying clouds against a smoky orange sky.
But where all this while are the Siamese? Here
and there in the crowd we have picked out a Sia-
mese of the better class in white linen coat and
panung, a graceful garment this, of shot silk draped
so as to look not unlike loose knickerbockers; and
in the city we may have seen officers of the army,
possibly even a prince, in uniform. Perhaps a
lady has driven by. She wears a panung like the
men, and a white tunic much adorned with frills
and bows and jewelled brooches, and a sash across
it like the insignia of some order. She goes with
nothing to cover her short black hair, but she is
careful to protect her light complexion with a par-
asol. The men affect soft felt hats or panamas.
Their stockings are generally white, but black is
the fashionable colour for ladies.
37
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Of the humbler classes three out of every four
whom we have met so far have been Chinese. To
see the Siamese we should walk through the city
at daybreak, when the streets are thronged with
yellow-robed monks slowly moving on and stopping
only when some devout person steps forward to
put in their bowls a little rice, or sweetmeats or
dried fish; by the end of the morning pilgrimage
the bowls contain a curious mixture. At this] hour
too the market is in full swing on the river. Hun-
dreds of boats lie before the palace steps, loaded to
the water's edge with fruit and fish of all descrip-
tions, and a babel of sound arises as the chaffering
goes on.
But if such an early start does not suit us we
must take a rua chang (a ferry boat), and row
through the small canals or klongs. The rua chang
is rowed by a typical Siamese, not very large but
well proportioned, and with skin darkened by con-
stant exposure to the sun. He wears no fine silk
panung, but only a strip of cotton stuff tucked
up around his loins, or else short Chinese trousers.
His legs and feet are bare, but he may possibly
have on a light vest. This is his working dress;
when he goes holiday-making he too has a panung,
even if it be only of cotton, and though he has no
coat he has a bright-coloured scarf which he throws
over his shoulder, and a flower behind his ear. He
stands now in the stern, and propels us with power-
ful strokes of an oar attached to a post with a turn
of string, very much as in Venice the gondolas are
38
BANGKOK
rowed, but with a rhythmic movement and a grace-
ful swing of the foot which are peculiar to the Sia-
mese. We have no rudder, but his long oar gives
him absolute command over the boat, and he will
twist us out from under the very bows of a steam
launch. We sit on a transverse seat, and gladly
make use of the paper umbrellas with which the
boat is provided. Dark spectacles will also add to
our comfort, for the glare from the river is terrific.
As we shoot out into the river we see that there
is a vast floating population, for on either side are
rows of floating houses built on pontoons or on
rafts of bamboos, and moored to posts by means
of rings which allow them to rise and fall with the
tide. Many of these floating houses are shops,
bright with cotton stuffs and brass ware. In front
is a platform, and here every morning and evening
the household assemble and cook their rice, allowing
it to steam until it is of a flaky consistency without
a trace of stickiness. It then bears little resem-
blance to the repulsively sodden mass which goes
by the name of boiled rice in England. When the
rice is cooked they all sit round and help them-
selves with their fingers, flavouring the meal with
pinches of dried fish and strong seasonings, selected
from a numerous array of little dishes, and for
drink they dip a bowl into the river which flows
beside them. On these platforms, too, they sit and
pour bucketfuls of water over themselves, their
clothes sharing in the benefit of a wash.
Still a large proportion of the men that we see
39
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
are Chinese, but their wives are always Siamese.
Let us get out of the main stream and explore one
of the numerous by-ways, the lanes of this water
city. The western side of the river will be the
best for our purpose, and here for miles the small
klongs are lined with rows of wooden shanties
and floating houses, with an occasional bungalow
belonging to some rich Chinaman. They are regu-
lar streets, swarming with sampans, steam launches,
and boats of every description. The rua changs
are crowded with passengers, sitting in the bottom
of the boat and holding up umbrellas. The larger
boats have a semicircular covering in the middle,
of bamboo thatched with attap. They are travel-
ling shops and contain a wonderful assortment of
cotton stuffs, tins of kerosene, and cocoanuts, and
on them whole families spend their lives. Their
simple cookery is done on the decked ends of the
boat, over an earthen pot containing charcoal.
Amongst these larger craft dart innumerable
small canoes. Siamese women paddle by with
great loads of fruit or highly-seasoned curries and
cakes. They wear cotton panungs, but no shoes or
stockings; these are only for the aristocracy. On
their heads are round basket-shaped hats, and the
younger women have bright scarves thrown loosely
over their breasts; when they grow old and wrinkled
they will go without this adornment. A monotonous
cry heralds the approach of the itinerant butcher,
a Chinaman with a board in the bows of his canoe,
on which strips of pork are spread. Everywhere
40
BANGKOK
naked children are splashing about in the tepid
water, wading through the mud, or paddling fear-
lessly along in tiny canoes, delighted when a pass-
ing launch makes big waves for them to ride over.
Possibly we may also see a monk in his canoe, a
thing so crank that without an occupant it will not
sit upright, yet the monk can paddle it while stand-
ing up, and if by any misfortune he were upset he
could bale it out by rocking it from side to side,
and then spring straight in out of the water. Before
we have gone far we shall have seen enough to
realise that the Siamese are an amphibious race,
and the finest watermen in the world.
The canoes and sampans are built of planks,
while the under-bodies of the larger boats are cut
out of solid pieces of teak, upon which the upper
part is built up, pegs of hard wood taking the place
of nails or bolts. The lines of all are graceful, and
show that the Siamese are proficient boat-builders,
though they now leave much of this work to the
ubiquitous Chinese.
Farther in from the river, away from the busy
part, the klong is very pretty. The long fronds of
cocoanut palms overhang the water, and the vivid
green of the banks is occasionally broken by "the
flame of the forest," a tree loaded with scarlet
blossoms. Amongst the trees are houses of the typ-
ical low-country type. A platform of teak planks
is supported on piles, six or seven feet above the
level of the ground, and approached by a ladder
leading down into the klong. Opening on to two
41 '
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
sides of the platform are little houses, also built of
teak, with graceful gable ends curving upward to a
sharp point. In the city the roofs are tiled, but
here they are generally thatched with attap. If the
people are very poor, perhaps they will only have
a platform of bamboos, and the walls of the house
will also be of split bamboo and attap interlaced.
The platform is often gay with flowering shrubs,
amongst which brilliant butterflies flit about. It
forms the courtyard, from which it is only a step up
to the floors of the houses. The sleeping-rooms are
at the back, but in front and open to the platform
are deep verandahs, in which the family live during
the day.
There we can see the wife, the elder daughters,
and the white-haired old grandmother, grating
cocoanuts for the curry or cutting up dried banana
leaves to use for rolling cigarettes. If the master
of the house is not away attending to his garden we
shall probably see him there too, asleep, or perhaps
swinging the baby in a cradle suspended from the
roof. On the platform half-a-dozen children are
playing, the youngest of whom can only crawl.
He is not burdened with clothes, unless a couple of
silver rings round his ankles can be counted as
such, but his skin is stained a bright yellow with a
powder which is supposed to keep off mosquitoes.
Favourite cats and dogs, particularly if they be
white, are also often dyed in this way. The face of
the next youngest child is mottled over with white
spots, and for a moment we fear that he is suffering
BANGKOK
from some terrible disease, but they are only the
sediment of a solution of chalky clay which his
mother has dabbed upon his face to prevent sun-
burn. He has not even a pair of ankle rings, for
they have been passed on to the baby.
His little brothers run about in equally scanty
attire, and when not plunging into the mud they
are generally smoking cigarettes of the coarse native
tobacco. Should one of them be the proud pos-
sessor of a cigar, he will generously pass it round
amongst his less fortunate companions, and only
claim the reversion when they have all shared in
the treat. By the time that they have attained to
the dignity of some kind of covering it is time for
them to be packed off to school for several hours
each day. Their sisters, however, stay at home,
pretty little things in panungs and dainty berib-
boned chemisettes, with their heads shaved except
for a carefully tended top-knot. On festive occa-
sions this is encircled with a wreath of flowers or a
chaplet of silver or gold work, for even the poorest
households possess some valuable pieces of jewellery.
At about the age of eleven this top-knot is cut off,
and thenceforth the hair is allowed to grow short
and bristly, brushed straight up from the forehead.
In the case of boys the ceremony of top-knot cutting
is not often observed amongst the poorer classes.
Sometimes the top-knot is cultivated for a few years,
but then, instead of being neatly done up, it is
allowed to hang, a mere ragged wisp, and by the time
the boy goes to school his hair is usually growing
43
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
in the natural way. Nor is he so particular in after
life to keep his hair cut short, and often we may
see a man with long picturesque locks.
Old and young all chew the betel nut. This is
really the nut of the areca palm, which is cut up and
wrapped, together with a little tobacco, in a leaf of
the betel vine first smeared with a pink mixture of
lime and turmeric. The quid is stuffed away in
the cheek, and only so can the pure Siamese accent
be produced. To the new-comer their speech is an
unintelligible mumble, frequently interrupted by the
necessity of getting rid of bright red streams of
juice. The effect upon their teeth is, in time, to coat
them with a black shiny enamel which acts as a
preservative, but the lime causes the gums to shrink
away, so that the teeth appear long and protruding.
This is particularly noticeable amongst the women,
and the habit quickly destroys their good looks.
While the little boys are generally content with
cigarettes, their sisters have learnt to chew even
before their top-knots are cut. The black teeth
used to be considered a mark of beauty, but now that
European influences are making themselves felt
white teeth are coming into fashion, at any rate
amongst the men.
The practice of taking snuff is fairly common. It
is amusing to see a Siamese lady produce from her
reticule a little copper U-shaped tube which she
fills with snuff. One end she inserts in her nostril
and through the other she blows. This same reti-
cule contains an amazing assortment of cosmetics
44
BANGKOK
but we must not pry too closely into the toilet
of a lady of fashion.
The Siamese are personally extremely cleanly,
but unfortunately the same cannot be said of their
houses. If we look into the sleeping-room we see
mosquito nets black with the dirt of ages, venerable
cobwebs, and spittoons in which the betel juice
ejected by many generations has solidified into a
hard mass. In those houses which border the klongs
the refuse is disposed of by pitching it into the water,
but if no klong is handy it is equally simple to throw
it through some interstice in the floor boards,
and the ground underneath is often indescribably
filthy.
But we must not linger here too long, for at low
tide the klongs are mere creeks of mud, where even
a sampan will stick. Let us return and walk through
one of the markets. Our rua chang will stop at a
flight of wooden steps, and mounting these we pass
through a low doorway. A narrow path, trampled
into thick black mud and covered overhead with
strips of dirty canvas, leads between crazy wooden
shanties, in front of which are spread on wide slabs
every form of Eastern delicacy: strange sweetmeats,
cakes, black quivering masses of jelly, glasses filled
with liquors of the hues of aniline dyes, paste of
decayed prawns, still living mud-fish, piles of cig-
arettes and betel nut, fruit of many kinds, and eggs
of an antiquity that makes us catch our breath.
Farther on are the ironmongers and the drapers
displaying gaudy sarongs, a Malay garment, which
45
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
forms a close-fitting skirt, and all the time we are
jostled by a stream of nearly naked Chinamen and
fat old Siamese women. Here are pariah dogs of
the mangiest and most disreputable description, and
probably before we have gone far we shall stumble
over a litter of pigs.
Away from the klongs, behind the markets, all is
thick garden-land, very pleasant and shady to walk
through. Often the paths are bricked and overhung
by dense jungly hedges, whilst over all the palm-
trees spread a green canopy. In other places the
paths consist of planks, raised a few feet off the
ground, and as we walk over them they spring and
bend until it seems that they must break beneath
our weight, yet somehow they always hang together.
Every now and then we come to the enclosure of
some temple, often deserted and falling into decay,
for the Siamese think that they make much merit by
contributing towards the building of a new temple,
but money spent upon repairs is far less meritoriously
employed. In the city the appearance of the temples
must be kept up, but here amongst the gardens they
serve a few generations of worshippers, and then
they are allowed to moulder quietly away.
A market garden in Bangkok is very different
from anything that we know at home. The trees
must be kept out of the water in the rainy season,
so ridges are thrown up and the garden consists of
alternate ridges and ditches filled with water. When
a Siamese has placed a single bamboo across one of
these ditches he thinks that he has made a good
46
BANGKOK
bridge, but to a European wearing boots it is not
easy to cross. On the ridges are planted cocoa-
nut palms, mangoes, mangosteens, plums, oranges,
pomelows, jack-fruit, and duriens, and very often
there is a thick undergrowth of bananas. If we are
thirsty and have a coolie with us, he will climb up
the nearest palm and throw us down green cocoa-
nuts filled with delicious milk. The owner will not
mind. Indeed they are so good-natured that a
coolie has been known to go up to a house and
borrow a knife wherewith the more easily to rob
the lender's trees.
Of all the fruits around us the most curious are
the duriens, as large as vegetable marrows and cov-
ered with sharp spines. Once, long ago, they were
described as having the flavour of strawberries and
cream, and succeeding generations of writers con-
scientiously repeated this remark, but at length one,
bolder than the rest, said that they reminded him of
rotten eggs, and from this blow the durien has never
recovered. Yet it is not a fruit upon which a hasty
judgment should be passed, and to the Siamese, if
not to Europeans, it is the greatest of luxuries.
Occasionally we may hear a sharp clacking echo
through the gardens. Somewhere in the trees around
us is a short length of bamboo and a clapper
attached to a long rattan which a little boy is pull-
ing to scare away the birds.
A large and evil-smelling district is devoted to the
cultivation of betel vines. They are trained up
poles, like hops, and amongst them grow the slender
47
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
areca palms. They require more attention than an
ordinary garden, and their cultivation is almost
entirely in the hands of Chinese.
No ground rents are paid by the owners of garden-
land, but an ad valorem tax is imposed upon the
trees themselves, only those trees which are actu-
ally bearing fruit being counted. Thus on a durien
tree which may be worth two hundred ticals (roughly
11, 10s.) the tax is one tical per year. For a cocoa-
nut palm worth about twenty ticals, one-sixteenth
of a tical is paid, and so on, a certain fixed sum
being levied upon each variety. The counting of
the trees is a laborious process and the tax is only
readjusted at long intervals, or when the garden
changes ownership. Average garden-land in Bang-
kok is worth from 40 to 100 per acre according
to the trees with which it is planted, and the yield
per annum from one acre may be very roughly put
at from 5 to 15.
Such are the impressions which may be formed
in the course of a ramble through the streets and
klongs of Bangkok, the only large town in Siam.
It is the gate by which everybody enters the coun-
try and through which practically all the trade of
the country passes. The total foreign trade now
amounts to over 10,000,000 yearly. The exports
exceed the imports in value, and rice so far over-
shadows all the rest that upon it alone the impor-
tance of the port may be said to depend. Next to
rice, but of less than one-eighth its value, comes
teak, and a long way behind this are dried fish, hides,
48
BANGKOK
and horns. The chief imports are cotton goods
from England and India.
Siam owns no merchant vessels and in the car-
riage of her trade Germany has taken the lead.
No large steamers can go up to Bangkok, for at
high water there are not more than twelve feet of
water over the bar at the mouth of the river.
Steamers of greater draught than this must stop
outside at the small island, Kaw Si Chang, and
transship their cargo into lighters. The Siamese
have never considered any scheme for making a
deep channel through the bar, although this would
obviously be of the greatest benefit to their com-
merce. They urge that the bar forms their best
defence against a hostile fleet, and in 1893, dur-
ing the troubles with France, they still further
obstructed the passage by sinking junks laden
with stones in the fairway. Since modern shallow-
draught gunboats are well able to force the defences
of the river there does not seem to be much in this
objection, but it is possible that the removal of the
bar would allow the salt water to run up to Bangkok,
and turn the river, upon which they depend for
drinking water, brackish.
The rice is milled in Bangkok, but the number
of rice mills is far in excess of that needful to deal
with the supply, and many are perforce standing
idle. The Chinese-owned mills are run at a profit,
but the competition is severely felt by the large
European mills.
The general business of Bangkok is in a very
49
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
flourishing condition, and such concerns as the
Electricity Company, the Tramway Company, and
the narrow-gauge line to Tachin, pay large divi-
dends.
Out of the population of half a million about one
thousand are Europeans, but unlike many East-
ern towns there is no European quarter in Bang-
kok. Most of the Europeans in the service of the
Government live near the city, but the Foreign
Legations, the banks, and the chief business houses
are situated two miles farther down the river.
As regards climate the town compares favourably
with Singapore, and the scorching heat of the
Indian plains is unknown. From February to April
the wind blows generally from the south-east.
These are the dry hot months, but the tempera-
ture does not often exceed one hundred degrees
in the shade. Towards the end of April rain clouds
begin to bank up in the west and some heavy
showers fall. In June the rains begin in earnest
and they last until October. During these months
the mornings are often cloudless, but in the after-
noon and at night there are terrific storms, with
thunder and lightning. The total rainfall, however,
is not very heavy fifty-two inches in the year.
November, December, and January are the best
months of the year. For a few weeks the early
mornings are delightfully cool, and at night the
temperature sometimes goes as low as fifty-six
degrees.
During the dry months the river is low, and the
50
BANGKOK
current is insufficient to prevent the salt water from
coming up, so that the water turns brackish. The
want of a proper water supply is indeed the most
pressing need of Bangkok. At present the natives
draw their water from the nearest Hong, and Euro-
peans depend upon rain-water collected in tanks and
jars during the rainy season. At Saigon, which is
very similarly situated, a magnificent water supply
has been obtained from artesian wells. Experi-
ments in this direction are being made for a pri-
vate supply at the new Royal Palace in Bangkok,
and at the small town of Prapratom, thirty miles
farther west, boring for water has already proved
very successful. There seems therefore no reason
why Bangkok should not soon be better off in this
respect. Of the sanitary arrangements it can only
be said that they are remarkable for their simplicity.
In the hot season cholera is very prevalent, par-
ticularly among the Chinese. From some obscure
cause the worst epidemics occur at regular intervals,
once every three years. The last serious epidemic
was in 1903, and the present year, 1906, is an
exceptionally bad one. Europeans as a rule have
more to dread from fever, and although the pre-
caution of boiling all drinking water must never be
neglected, we need not imitate the example of the
new-comer who refused to wash except in soda-
water.
Year by year acres of small wooden houses and
pestilential alleys are being swept out of existence
by fire, and gradually a cleaner and healthier town
51
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
is growing up. A fire once started here must run
its course until the wind changes, or until it meets
a gap too big for it to cross. Firemen, sailors,
soldiers, police, and volunteers of all nationalities
work heroically at a big fire to tear down the
buildings in its course, but the engines are practi-
cally useless, and often the first essential, water,
is lacking.
The Bangkok police are a smart khaki-clad force.
A large proportion are Sikhs, but these are rapidly
being replaced by Siamese. There is nothing that
the Siamese policeman enjoys more than exerting
his authority over a Chinaman, and at times of
religious enthusiasm he may be seen herding off to
jail a dozen turbulent Chinese coolies at once, all
tied to a long rope by their wrists. Each one of
his prisoners is his physical superior, but they never
make an organised effort to escape.
Few things can be more annoying than, while
driving out to dinner in some remote part of the
town, for our carriage to sink without warning up
to the axle in a slough, from which it emerges with
broken springs. After one or two such experiences
we begin to appreciate the irony of the Chinese
road-menders, who may be seen filling up the worst
holes with stones, one by one. Though the roads
are atrocious and foul odours are not uncommon,
Bangkok has shared to the full in the general
improvement of the country during the last ten
years, and the next decade may witness even greater
changes. Already a Buddhist monk has been seen
52
BANGKOK
riding in a motor car. It is even rumoured that
a new Hackney Carriage Act is being enforced.
Should this be so the safety of a drive through the
streets of Bangkok will doubtless be increased, but
much of its romance will be lost.
53
CHAPTER H
PRESENT CONDITIONS
"From Fire, Water, Thieves, and Governors, Good Lord, deliver us."
Prayer of the People.
I WILL say nothing but what I have seen
myself, or what I have learned from the
Lord Constance and some other very intelli-
gent Persons, that I may not impose upon the
public by false or uncertain Reports. . . . For as
to the Orientals, all know that they tell things not
really as they are, but as they fancy you could wish
they were."
So wrote the Jesuit Father Tachard, who accom-
panied the embassy sent by Louis XIV to Siam in
1685, and there in the unchanging East things are
very much the same to-day as he described them
more than two centuries ago. 1 I shall have fre-
quent occasion to refer to this good Father, whose
1 A Voyage to Siam, p. 263 et seq. The title-page reads as follows: "A
Relation of the Voyage to Siam. Performed by Six Jesuits Sent by the French
King, to the Indies and China, in the Year, 1685. With their Astrological
Observations, and their Remarks of Natural Philosophy, Geography, Hydrog-
raphy, and History. Published in the Original, by the express Orders of
His most Christian Majesty. And now made English, and illustrated with
Sculptures. London, Printed by T. B. for J. Robinson and A. Churchill,
and are to be sold by S. Crouch, at the Corner of Popes-Head Alley against
the Royal-Exchange, 1688."
The English edition is a rare work, not to be found in the British Museum.
54
PRESENT CONDITIONS
work deserves to be better known both for its
evident sincerity and the quaint humour which
distinguishes it.
"The Siamese," he says, "are very good natured
and civil, they live in good intelligence one with
another, and they are not wanting in compleasance
to Strangers. ... So to speak generally, there is
a great union in Families amongst them, and out
of principle of tenderness for their Parents and
Relations, they accuse us of somewhat of hard heart-
edness, because we leave ours, and go and live far
from them in remote Countries, telling us that they
may stand in need of us. ... The respect they
have for the King goes as far as adoration. The
posture wherein they are to be in his presence is a
visible mark of it. ... When the King goes abroad,
all must withdraw, and no body dares to be in his
way but they who have express orders for it, unless
it be when he has a mind to show himself to his
people on certain days of Ceremony."
Fifty years ago Sir John Bo wring wrote: "The
groundwork of all Siamese institutions and habits
is a reverence for authority." 1 This is the explana-
tion of the prostrate attitude which in former times
they adopted before the sovereign 2 and it explains,
too, how it is that most Europeans find it so easy
to deal with the Siamese placed under them. For
the rest, no people could be less servile, and, while
1 Bowring, Siam, vol. i. p. 124.
* In 1874 the present King promulgated a decree permitting his subjects
to stand upright in his presence. Siam Repository.
55
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
perfectly polite, they speak to Europeans as one
free man to another.
But though fairly good subordinates, they have,
with a few notable exceptions, never shown great
administrative ability. Most of the Government
departments are now administered with the assist-
ance of European advisers, and a staff of European
officials. Lest any European nation should obtain
an undue share of influence in Siam these Govern-
ment posts are distributed amongst men of many
nationalities, and even within the limits of a single
department this cosmopolitanism prevails. Since,
however, the administration of a department is more
efficient when men of the same nationality are
working together, the tendency is for each depart-
ment to draw its officers from some one nation
in particular. Thus the general adviser to the
Government is an American; the State Railways
and the Postal and Telegraph Services are managed
by Germans; the officers in the Navy and the Pro-
vincial Gendarmerie are Danes; Italian engineers
are employed on the Public Works and Frenchmen
in the Sanitary Department; in the Ministry of
Finance, the Customs, the Bangkok Police, and the
Education, Mining, and Survey Departments, the
majority of the higher posts are filled by British
officials, whilst the Ministry of Justice, to which
Belgians were formerly appointed, is now advised
by an Englishman and a Frenchman who, in theory
at least, have equal powers.
It must be clearly understood that any measure
56
PRESENT CONDITIONS
suggested by a European adviser is subject to the
approval of the Siamese Minister of his department.
Nevertheless, even if their proposals do not meet
with favour, the mere presence of Europeans in
high quarters acts as a wholesome check upon the
Siamese official classes, and the Siamese themselves
are the first to admit that were this check removed
corruption would be rampant amongst them.
Without European direction little would be accom-
plished, for the Siamese are wanting in the power
to apply continuous effort towards a single end, and
are prone to leave a task half finished in order to
take up something new. Under the present system
just enough of the energy of the nation is devoted
to necessary work to enable the country to keep
within measurable distance of the times, but on the
least excuse serious work is suspended and all this
energy flows back into its natural channel, the
preparation of gorgeous pageants and shows.
In the reign of King Mongkut (1850-1868),
"Siam may be said to have passed from the middle
ages to modern times. . . . What European coun-
tries were allowed to accomplish gradually, Siam by
circumstances had to accomplish within a few years.
And these changes were not brought about by
pressure of the people, but by the governing classes
who had to educate the people to these new condi-
tions: the governing classes themselves were some-
times averse to changes lest such should interfere
with their privileges, and then it was the King who
guided them."
57
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
In these words Dr. Frankfurter sums up the prog-
ress made during the reign of the present King's
father. 1
The present King, Chulalongkorn, has always
been an enlightened and liberal-minded monarch,
but for long the reforms which he attempted to
introduce were more apparent than real, and when
in 1893 the French gunboats sailed up to Bangkok,
the kingdom of Siam seemed near its ends. It is
difficult to realise the apathy of the King and the
levity of his court in the midst of events touch-
ing the very existence of the nation, and Henry
Norman's book, written shortly afterwards, gives a
vivid picture of the state into which the country
had sunk. 2 But in the last decade a very real
improvement has taken place. The King has ful-
filled the high promise with which he began his
reign, and a general quickening of the entire
nation is apparent.
At the beginning of 1896, England and France
jointly guaranteed the independence of the Menam
Valley, and it rested with the Siamese themselves
either to make a fresh start or to allow things to
drift on until annexation became inevitable. They
did not misuse their opportunity. The old genera-
tion of officials, who, while they assented to the
1 A. paper on "The Reign of King Mongkut" by Dr. Frankfurter, pub-
lished in The Journal of the Siam Society, vol. i.
2 Henry Norman, Peoples and Politics of the Far East, chaps, xxvi.-xxx.
The best description of the action at Paknam, in which the French gunboats
forced the defences of the river, is to be found ifl Warington Smyth's Five Years
in Siam, vol. i. p. 255 et seq,
58
PRESENT CONDITIONS
reforms of the King, opposed to them such a dead
weight of inertia that at length the King himself
despaired, were replaced by younger men. Govern-
ment departments were not merely reorganised, but
constructed afresh, and in all this colossal work
M. Rolin Jacquemyns, the general adviser to the
Government, bore a foremost part. Yet as no
reform can be permanent that comes wholly from
without, it is of good augury for Siam that the
present improved condition of the country is due to
no one more than to Prince Damrong, the King's
half-brother and Minister of the Interior.
He has revived the old system of village govern-
ment which prevailed in early times amongst the
Tai-Shans, and which prevails in a modified form in
Burma at the present day. 1 Over every hamlet
there is an elder, the Pu Yai Ban, who is answer-
able for its well-being; each collection of hamlets
is under a Kamnun, elected by the elders; each
district is under a Nai Ampurr; above the Nai
Ampurrs comes the Governor of the "Muang," and
finally over each province or "Monthon" is a High
Commissioner appointed by the King, and directly
responsible to the Minister of the Interior. Thus
in the remotest parts of the kingdom every hamlet
is under the control of the central Government.
In the old days the great lords of outlying prov-
inces were almost independent chiefs. As long as
they remitted a certain revenue to Bangkok every
year no one interfered with them, and they wrung
1 Siam Local Administration Act, 1897.
59
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
what they could out of the people for their own
profit. Under the new regime they had to accept
the position of salaried officials of the Government.
The change was very great. But though the con-
dition of the people was ameliorated they reaped no
benefit from the revenue which flowed into the
central treasury. The money collected from them
was all spent on showy improvements in Bangkok,
while the most pressing needs of the provinces were
neglected. In regard to a more equitable adjust-
ment of expenditure between the provinces and the
capital much still remains to be done.
The King is in theory absolute master of the
lives and property of all his subjects, but in practice
he is assisted by a Council of Ministers, and any
measure decided upon by them will probably receive
his sanction. The law of succession in Siam is
sufficiently elastic to enable a weak and incapable
prince to be passed over. In some past ages it
seems that the King's brothers were preferred before
his children, to whom, however, the crown reverted
on the death of their uncles, and sometimes the suc-
cession was settled by the votes of the chief nobles.
The great King Narai, who had no son, pro-
claimed as his heir a young nobleman whom he
adopted. Whatever advantages this plan may have
had in a rude age, when to be strongly ruled was
the first essential of the state, the importance of a
settled succession is now so manifest that, in future,
the heir-apparent will almost certainly be the eldest
son of the First Queen. Thus King Chulalongkorn
60
PRESENT CONDITIONS
succeeded without opposition to his father's throne
in 1868, though only fifteen years of age, and ruled
during his minority under a regency. By imme-
morial custom, the First Queen, the mother of the
Crown Prince, is the King's half-sister. 1
During the present dynasty there has generally
been a Second King, a curious institution for which
there is ancient precedent in Indo-China. This
office has been in abeyance since the death of the
late Second King in 1885. In Siam the Second
King had no real power, and he was practically
appointed by the supreme King, but on the death
of the latter the Second King retained his office.
Outside the Royal family there are no hereditary
titles in Siam, and even direct descendants of the
King only bear titles for three generations. As a
man ascends in the service of the Government he
receives the insignia of his rank and the titles
belonging to his office. A man of the lowest birth
may ascend to be a Minister and there is absolutely
no caste feeling. There is a very small middle
class and all of these aspire to some Government
office, the majority being employed as clerks and
the like. They bear no family names, and as a rule
each step of promotion which is marked by a higher
title is also signalised by the taking of a new name.
1 We read that the Sakya princes, from whose race Gautama, the Buddha,
sprang, being defrauded of their birthright, established a new kingdom in
forests which they found uninhabited. In the absence of any other princesses
of sufficiently illustrious descent to be fit mates for them, they took their sis-
ters as their wives, and were thence called Sakya, or Self -potential. Alabaster,
The Wheel of the Law, p. 173.
61
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
The great bulk of the population is peasantry, whose
sole occupation is agriculture.
In Bangkok and in every large village there is
a strong Chinese element. Almost the entire retail
trade of the country is in their hands, for they
possess a sound business capacity, and a native
honesty to which the lower class Siamese can lay
no claim. How often has it been said that a
Chinaman's word is his bond? The Chinese also
do most of the market gardening, which involves
more labour than rice planting. They are the
'rickshaw pullers, and, it is scarcely an exaggera-
tion to say, they perform all the drudgery of the
country while the Siamese exist in a state of blissful
repose. If some philanthropist were to give a
Siamese coolie a 'rickshaw and tell him to earn his
living by pulling it in the streets, he would not reply
"I don't want to," but "I cannot." Yet somehow
the coolie is never without a few coppers, and when
next the philanthropist set eyes upon his protege
it would be to see him riding in the 'rickshaw, with
a Chinaman in the shafts.
In the small hamlets and scattered homesteads
which cover the face of the country the proportion
of Chinese is not so great, for they are a gregarious
race. In 1904 the first detailed census was taken
in Siam, but it only includes twelve out of the
twenty provinces. Upon this basis the total popu-
lation of Siam has been calculated to be 6,686,846
persons, and it is thought that not more than ten
per cent, are Chinese. In the twelve provinces for
62
PRESENT CONDITIONS
which accurate statistics are available the propor-
tion is considerably less than ten per cent., but they
do not include the province of Bangkok in which it
is certainly much higher.
Buddhism is the religion of the country, but the
utmost toleration has always been shown, and no
political or social disability attaches to those who
profess another faith. At a time when religious
persecution was at its height in Europe, Christian
missionaries were welcomed in Siam, where, if they
have made few converts, they have done much good
from a medical and educational point of view. In
many countries, notably in Tibet, the Buddhist re-
ligion has become overlaid with a mass of esoteric
doctrine and metaphysical teaching; in Japan the
worship of local divinities, under the guise of
incarnations of the Buddha, has almost altogether
obscured the figure of the Great Teacher, and who
shall say what it is that the Chinese Buddhist wor-
ships, as he bows before the image in his joss-house?
But in Siam, as in Burma and Ceylon, Buddhism
still exists in something like its pristine form. Brah-
minism also survives in many an old rite and cus-
tom. But the real religion of the mass of the people
is a sort of fetish-worship; for them, as of old, the
jungles and rivers are peopled with spirits, whom
they ardently desire not to see, and their belief in
the power of charms to ward off evil remains as
firm as ever it was in pagan times.
Nevertheless, they neglect no opportunity of
"making merit," and the vast number of Buddhist
63
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
monks in the country is supported entirely by the
daily offerings of the people. Almost every male
Siamese enters a wot or monastery for some months
at least, and many remain there all their lives.
During his sojourn in the wot he puts on the yellow
robe, shaves his head, and is subject to all the rules
of the order, but he is free to leave and return to
the world whenever he likes. As a child, too, every
Siamese boy goes to the village wot to learn from
the monks. Ability to read and write is more uni-
versal amongst Siamese men than it was until very
recently in England, but beyond this their education
does not go very far.
There is now a regular Education Department
with well-organised schools in Bangkok. In some
of these schools English is taught, and there are
also schools for girls. It is pleasing to find that
the old wot schools are not being swept away, but
are as far as possible being used as the basis of
the new scheme, so that whilst the higher education
must necessarily pass into the hands of secular
teachers the wats will always remain the primary
schools. Many of the princes are sent to public
schools in England, but the results of this have
been somewhat disappointing, and it is noticeable
that the best men in the country were educated
entirely in Siam.
"Marriage, according to Siamese law and customs,
is a contract between man and wife, to which the
ordinary principles which attach to other contracts
are applicable, and it is consequently validly cele-
64
PRESEN'TCONDITIONS
brated whenever it clearly results from the words
exchanged or from the rites observed that both
parties freely consent to take each other as man
and wife, provided he or she does not labour under
some particular disability." l The marriage tie can
be dissolved as easily as it is formed, and polygamy
is permitted, but the ordinary peasant contents
himself with one wife, and to her he remains very
faithful. Women do not occupy at all an inferior
position in Siam, and they enjoy at least as much
freedom as in European countries. Only in the
immediate entourage of the King do we find harems
rivalling that of Solomon. Alabaster suggests that
it may not always have been sensuality which led
the King of Siam to take so many wives, but an
attempt to bind all the most influential families to
his interest by placing their daughters in his harem.
The efficiency of such a method is very open to
question, and in order to prevent jealousy it was
necessary that every family of any importance
should be represented.
The ancient laws of the country were derived
from the Laws of Manu, which came to Siam
through the Peguans, and they differed from their
original only in being stated in more precise terms.
A portion of the old code was lost at the sack of
Ayuthia, and the laws as they then existed were
collected in the reign of Pra Puttha Yot Fa (1808).*
1 Sect. i. of Decree issued on the valid celebration of marriages in Siam.
Translation published in the Government Gazette, 9th January 1898.
Frankfurter, op. cit.
65
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
To quote again from Father Tachard, "Justice has
no less sway among them than friendship and peace.
When any Ship is cast away upon their Coast,
there is a Law that obliges those who have taken
up any thing of the Wreck to bring it to the chief
Town, to be afterwards given to those to whom
the effects belonged; which is also observed in rela-
tion to Strangers." 1
Unfortunately, admirable though the laws are,
the administration of justice is very faulty, and this
is perhaps the department in which reform is most
needed. Much has been accomplished of late years,
but still the provincial courts are very corrupt, and
even in Bangkok bribery is not unknown. That
even-handed justice should be dispensed in a court
of law is a conception to which few Siamese are
capable of rising. I have known of many instances
in which a Siamese who had got into trouble turned
to his European officer, and requested that he would
use his influence to procure the favour of the judge.
The Siamese could never understand why the
European should refuse to do this, for surely, he
thought, it ought to be the duty of one in author-
ity to protect those over whom he is set.
Except in a few outlying provinces, the courts
are not now under the management of the executive
authorities, but have been taken over by Judicial
Commissioners directly responsible to the King.
The lower courts are also subject to a Court of
Appeal in Bangkok, the procedure being by written
1 Op. tit. p. 268.
66
PRESENT CONDITIONS
arguments, so that it is not necessary to appear
personally before the Appeal Court. Appeal is
therefore rendered so easy that systematic use of
it is made by litigants, yet were it more difficult
the evil would be greater, for there would be no
redress when the lower courts had been bribed.
As a salutary check upon the bringing of frivolous
actions, it was customary in former times to cast
the plaintiff into prison, together with the defendant
and witnesses, pending the hearing of the case.
There they sometimes remained for years, and when
at length they were remembered the cause of quarrel
had long since been forgotten, and none could say
which really was the defendant and which the
plaintiff.
In the old statute books many very barbarous
punishments were laid down, but all of these have
been abolished and, if anything, the sentences now
passed err on the side of mercy. The death sen-
tence, by decapitation, is very rarely inflicted and
even whipping is little resorted to. In the middle
ages trial by ordeal was often decreed by the
ancient Siamese code, when the litigants had either
to walk on fire or to undergo the ordeal by sub-
mersion. In the latter case they were compelled
to remain under water, while an officer of the tri-
bunal measured the time by retaining his breath
as long as he could. "After he has taken breath
for the third time, four executors of important
works will assist in taking the two litigants from
the water. If one of them has been unable to
67
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
bear submersion so long and has emerged from the
water before, the executors will withdraw the winner
from the water, while the judges will ask the loser
for what reason he has come to the surface."
So runs the Act, and it ends quaintly enough,
"If at the end of thirty -six minutes neither accuser
nor accused has reappeared, it will be necessary to
pull both out of the water." 1
Even in those days judges were venal. We read
of a wood-cutter who acted as judge in a trial by
immersion, and who held the stakes while the dis-
puting parties underwent the ordeal. The first to
emerge, seeing that he had lost, took to his heels.
Soon after the second came up, but he was per-
suaded that the other man was still under water,
so, abandoning everything, he ran home, leaving the
wood-cutter master of the situation.
A yearly budget is issued and shows that the
revenue of the country is rather more than two and
two-thirds millions sterling, with a small surplus
over expenditure. It has sometimes been stated that
the people groan under the weight of taxation, but,
on the contrary, the taxes are extraordinarily light.
The bulk of the population are small freeholders,
whose only necessity is rice, and the only taxes
which affect them are the land tax and a small
tax on boats. It is true that the very fruit-trees and
1 "The Judgment of God, or Trial by ordeal in the country of the White
Elephant according to the ancient Siamese Code," by the Right Rev. Bishop
M. Jos. Cuaz (Vicar-Apostolic of Laos), published in the Revue Indo-Chi-
noise, 15th January 1905, and republished in the Bangkok Times, 7th February
1905.
68
PRESENT CONDITIONS
the fishing stakes are taxed, but nothing is paid
for the land on which the fruit-trees grow, and
in these waters which teem with fish it is only
right that the fisheries should contribute something.
Moreover, both fruit and fish may be looked upon
as luxuries.
Nearly one-third of the revenue is derived from
the opium and gambling monopolies, which are
farmed out every year to the highest bidders. These
are invariably Chinese, who eventually return to
their own country, taking with them the enormous
profits which they have made. The number of
gambling-houses is strictly limited, and anybody who
desires to gamble elsewhere must obtain a license
from the gambling farmer to do so. Gambling is
a national instinct, and it is in the last degree
exceptional for a coolie to put by any money. As
soon as he receives his pay he will go off to the near-
est gambling-house and stop there until it is finished.
If he is lucky it may last him a week; if the luck is
against him he has to return to work the next day.
It is his form of amusement and he never contem-
plates the possibility of making money by it.
Opium-smoking and gambling are the curses of
the country and are largely responsible for the
amount of theft which takes place. The number of
petty thefts is really appalling. In the year 1903-4
5,570 cases of theft were reported in Bangkok
province alone, with its population of 750,000, which
exceeds the number of cases in the whole of southern
Burma with a population of six millions. Yet I do
69
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
not believe that this is the result of innate depravity,
but only of a careless disregard of the rights of
property. The Siamese have a passion for pretty
clothes and jewelled rings and, like children, they
instinctively take what they want. Indeed, the
Commissioner of Police in Bangkok once said that
they had the predatory instinct more highly devel-
oped than any other race he knew of.
Bad as things are, however, they were far worse
before the passing of a Pawnbrokers' Act made it
difficult to dispose of the stolen property. The
Government is now making an attempt to remedy
the state of affairs by going to the root of the matter
and closing the gambling-houses. The revenue thus
lost will be compensated for by increasing the land
tax, but by treaty this tax cannot be higher than
that imposed in lower Burma. Hitherto it has
not amounted to more than one-third of the tax
in Burma, but under the new graduated rate it will
be from one-half to two-thirds as much as the Bur-
mese peasant has to pay under British rule. If the
scheme is carried out, there will not be any gam-
bling-houses left except in Bangkok by the end of
1906. Before the Government can afford to lose the
revenue which results from the valuable gambling
farms of the capital, certain additional taxes and
duties must be imposed, and this can only be done
with the consent of the foreign Powers with whom
treaties have been made. Opium-smoking has prob-
ably an even worse effect than gambling, but it
affects a smaller number of Siamese and is, perhaps,
70
PRESENT CONDITIONS
a necessity to the Chinese, who form such a large
part of the population.
Up country dacoity is rife, and the local gen-
darmerie are insufficient in number to put it down.
Yet, as I have said, the Siam of to-day is very
different from the Siam of ten years ago. As a
striking instance we have only to look at the success
achieved by the Paper Currency Department, whose
notes to the value of over ten million ticals are now
in circulation. Ten years ago Henry Norman wrote,
"It was indeed a fortunate day for Siam when it
was finally decided to put away on the shelf, unused
and unissued, the hundreds and thousands of new
legal-tender Treasury notes of the Royal Siamese
Treasury. The dismay that had spread amongst
the officials, both native and European, throughout
the country at the idea of being paid in Siamese
paper promises was an eloquent proof of the char-
acter of the national good faith." The formation of
a national debt is not, perhaps, a happy instance
to give of a country's prosperity, but the ease with
which a Siamese loan was floated in London and
Paris in 1905 forms a pleasing commentary on the
above passage.
An important step taken by the Treasury within
recent years has been to stop the free coinage of
silver. Ticals are now sold to the banks at a fixed
rate as they may be required, and it is hoped in
time to accumulate out of the profits of the sale a
sufficient reserve to establish a gold standard with
an exchange of fifteen ticals to the pound sterling.
71
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Throughout this book the value of the tical is taken
as Is. 2d.
Throughout his chapters on Siam, Henry Norman
gives instances of the subordination of national
interests to royal luxury. In this respect, too, there
has been improvement. Thus, speaking of the
railway, he says, "There does not appear to be
the slightest probability of this line ever being com-
pleted under the present regime, except, perhaps,
as far as the King's palace at Bang-pa-in." It is
now possible to go by rail to Korat (264 kilometres)
or to Pechaburi (151 kilometres); whilst the line
to Chieng-Mai, the capital of the north, is slowly
pushing forward, and has already reached Paknam
Po (160 kilometres from the junction with the Korat
line). No alarming rate of progress this, truly, yet
it is not entire stagnation. The line to Pechaburi
is chiefly important as forming a link in a possible
line down the Malay Peninsula, which might ulti-
mately connect Bangkok with Penang and Singa-
pore. The construction of such a line would be
very costly, but it would be politically of far greater
importance than the line to Chieng-Mai, for whilst
bringing Siam into closer touch with Europe it
would strengthen her hold over the Malay States.
In a significant article published not long ago in
a Saigon paper, the Siamese are encouraged to
build this line as the only means of checking the
further absorption of the Malay States by England.
On the lines already built the returns show
that three-fifths of the receipts are from passenger
72
PRESENT CONDITIONS
traffic. The trains are run at a rate which com-
pares favourably with stopping trains in England,
and the fares are very low. The proportion of goods
traffic is slowly increasing, but water must always
remain the chief means of transport, and it is of
more importance to improve the existing canals
than to multiply railways. The railways, besides,
are not without their bad side, for they enable the
country people so easily to come into Bangkok and
gamble away the price of their rice crop. That
they actually have such an effect is shown by the
great increase in value of the Bangkok gambling
farm since the railways were started.
Outside Bangkok and a few of the larger villages
roads do not exist in Siam, with the exception of
rough cart tracks, impassable in the rainy season.
In this respect Siam compares unfavourably with
the neighbouring French provinces, where good
roads have been made on slight embankments.
Amongst the most important of recent enact-
ments is the Land Registration Act, under which
title-deeds, based on the actual survey, are issued
to all holders of land, whether prince or peasant.
Henceforth the boundaries of their land are settled
beyond dispute, and a fruitful source of litigation
is being done away with. It may be noted that
no restriction is placed on the holding of land by
Chinese, whilst Europeans are permitted to buy or
rent land situated within certain limits.
The most memorable of all the King's acts, and
one of the earliest of his reign, was that in which
73
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
he decreed that after 1868, the date of his accession,
no Siamese could be born in the status of slavery.
It was a common custom for both men and women,
having gambled away all their possessions, to sell
themselves and their families in order to discharge
their debts. They were fed, clothed, and protected,
and in return for these advantages they were con-
tent to work for the rest of their lives. Theoreti-
cally the debt could be worked off at a fixed rate,
but in practice this was seldom done. Though
forbidden by law, this form of slavery still exists,
and as long as the people voluntarily sell them-
selves it is difficult to see how it can be prevented.
The sale of a wife by her husband without her
own consent, and of children above the age of fif-
teen, was made illegal in the reign of King Mong-
kut. King Mongkut was accustomed to receive
petitions from his people and to examine them per-
sonally on every "Wan Pra," the Buddhist Holy
Day, occurring on first and eighth day of the wax-
ing and waning of each moon, a right which the Sia-
mese seem to have enjoyed from olden days. A
drum was hung outside the gate of the palace and
on this the petitioners beat, so that "to beat the
drum of the palace" meant to present a petition.
Having been petitioned by a girl whose parents
wished to compel her to marry a certain man against
her will, King Mongkut decreed "that parents are
not owners of their children in the same way as
the owners of cattle and elephants may put a price
on them and sell them, or like the money master
74
PRESENT CONDITIONS
who has a slave of a fixed value and may sell him
for such fixed value." He also laid down the law
that money tendered for the redemption of a debtor
must at once be accepted. 1
Quite apart from this debt-serfdom every one in
the kingdom owed service to some overlord. In
theory all were serfs of the King, who delegated
a portion of his authority to the Governors of the
provinces. The personal service which was exacted
from the people was chiefly for the benefit of the
Governors themselves, yet some public works were
attempted and, so far as these are concerned, the
provinces were perhaps better off in the old days
than they are at present. The Governors still have
the right to demand labour from the people, but it
must be paid for at the local rate of wages. A very
large number of men are still dependents of the
various Government services and are, in a sense,
the serfs directly of the King himself. These men,
from the age of eighteen to sixty years, are supposed
to render three months' service a year, but personal
service is now generally commuted for a small pay-
ment known as the Capitation tax.
This system was seen at its worst in the army,
in which prisoners of war and their descendants for
ever were compelled to serve. These men were
tattooed upon the forearm, and their children were
tattooed when a few months old, so that gradually
there grew up a regular military caste, who were
naturally inefficient as soldiers and despised by the
1 Frankfurter, op. cit.
75
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
rest of the people. The officers were Siamese, and
their children also were liable to be taken and made
to serve.
In 1905 conscription was established in four
provinces, and it is to be extended to two others
in 1906. In these provinces the old dependents
of other departments, men who have hitherto, for
the most part, paid the Capitation tax, are now
transferred to the Ministry for War, and cannot
therefore claim exemption from the conscription.
Payers of annual taxes above a certain value, monks,
and some others are, however, exempt, and certain
educated classes are reserved for officers. With
these exceptions every one must serve three years
continuously with the colours between the ages of
eighteen and forty. After the three years are over
they are placed in three classes of reserves, liable
to be called out in time of emergency.
The Chinese are not called upon for military
service, nor do they pay the Capitation tax, but
only a small triennial tax.
The paper strength of the army is very different
from its real strength. Up country whole villages
are deserted by the men-folk when the time comes
round for them to serve, and the recruiting sergeant
returns with a band of old men and even women,
taken as hostages for the appearance of their sons,
who, probably, are amusiijg^ themselves meanwhile
with a little dacoity. As a fighting force the army
cannot be taken very seriously. The soldiers are
the worst element of the population and wherever
76
PRESENT CONDITIONS
a garrison is stationed brawls and disturbances are
of constant occurrence. I am necessarily speaking
of the time before conscription was established.
Under the new conditions the soldiers in the prov-
inces appear to be completely out of hand. Many
Europeans now in Siam believe that the army is a
grave menace to the country, for by its lawlessness
it may provoke outside intervention. During the
late Shan rebellion the troops who were sent up
north looted the shops and established a reign of
terror on their way through Paknam Po, while in
almost the only conflict that took place the Siamese
ran away unhurt, and a Danish officer of gendar-
merie who was attempting to lead them against the
enemy was shot. It is not that the individual Sia-
mese lacks courage. When his blood is up he pos-
sesses courage of the most reckless sort, but he is
entirely without esprit de corps, and has no idea of
patriotism as we understand it. The rivalry which
exists between the various schools in Bangkok has,
however, of late years done something to foster this
spirit. A Siamese who ran from the battle would
not be ashamed of the fact, nor would he feel the
least hesitation in admitting that he did so because
he was afraid.
The Siamese themselves are fully aware that in
regular operations against European troops they
would have no chance, but they say that they would
rely upon guerilla warfare. For this the training
of the men, on German lines, seems especially ill-
fitted. As it was in Burma, so it would be in
77
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Siam a European force could overrun the coun-
try with the utmost ease and the Siamese army
would run away; but after, when they saw Euro-
peans sitting in the high places, who can tell what
hidden fury of revolt might blaze forth?
For a navy there seems even less reason than for
an army, but it must be said that the sailors are
in all respects far smarter than the soldiers. The
greatest stimulus that could be given to the pros-
perity of Siam would be to disband the army alto-
gether, whilst the gendarmerie stations should be
trebled or quadrupled throughout the country. At
present, however, the tendency is all the other way
and so the army remains, a useless burden on the
revenue of the country, whilst the fields are depleted
of workers.
Although the leading characteristic of the Siamese
may be a disinclination for any hard and sustained
form of labour, it must be confessed that this is
generally shared by those Europeans who live in
hot countries. Moreover it is only true of the men
in Siam, for the women are hard workers, keen
business people, and the backbone of the country.
As to the men, then, one of their best friends was
indignant that they should be called "incorrigibly
idle," but when asked to substitute a phrase he could
only suggest as an alternative "incurably indolent."
Yet they, too, are not incapable of work when they
clearly understand that it is to their own advantage: j
during the time of ploughing and sowing and reap-
ing they work hard enough. Coolies will cheer-
78
PRESENT CONDITIONS
fully continue to row our house-boat for a day and
a night, that they may enjoy a day of idleness at
the end of it. A little higher in the social scale
anxiety for promotion in the Government service
will often act as an incentive, and some display a
real and intelligent interest in their work. Amongst
the Siamese surveyors I know very many who do
splendid work, toiling all day long under the
burning sun.
We must not judge them by our standards.
They are perfectly happy; why should they spend
their days in strenuous labour? The hideous
squalor, the abject misery of our great cities are
things utterly apart from their lives: the cry of
starving children is to them unknown. And their
wants are very simple. To us the piling up of one
coin upon another means so much, but the Siamese
are content to lie in the shade of the bamboos and
laugh and smoke, while the rice grows up for them
to eat.
For them there is no future like that of the Japan-
ese; it is doubtful if they will ever be able to do
without European advice. Whether they will retain
their independence is an interesting question. The
French colonial party is continually clamouring
for the absorption of the provinces of Siemrap
and Battambong, and indeed by the Anglo-French
agreement French "influence" is declared to extend
to these provinces, whilst British "influence"
extends over the whole of the Malay Peninsula.
Thus far then Siam is liable to further aggression,
79
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
but in all probability the basin of the Menam, the
heart of Siam and by far its most valuable part,
will always be allowed to remain an independent
buffer state. But this is looking far ahead, and no
further change in the map of Siam need be antici-
pated during the lifetime of the present King. The
success of Japan in the Russo-Japanese war has
caused France to turn anxious eyes towards her
possessions in the Far East, and she would be most
unwilling to incur fresh responsibility in that quar-
ter. Still less would she be inclined to interfere
with the status quo in the face of the Anglo-Japanese
treaty.
But another fate may overtake the Siamese.
The country is very thinly populated, and vast
tracts of rich land are left uncultivated for want
of workers. The irrigation company, backed by
European capital, will naturally seek fresh conces-
sions, and the wealthy Bangkok princes are always
ready to buy the land opened up by the cutting of
new canals, for rice farming is very profitable; but
who will till the fields? At present the Siamese
are lords of the soil, and so they may remain if the
country is allowed to develop only in proportion
to the natural expansion of its population. But the
population, for long almost stationary, is even now
increasing very slowly. This is partly due to the
large proportion of Siam's manhood shut up in the
wots; more, perhaps, to terrible epidemics of small-
pox, and to the very high rate of infant mortality.
Vaccination has been successfully introduced, and
80
PRESENT CONDITIONS
with the greater prosperity of the people and the
spread of sanitary knowledge amongst them, a
higher rate of increase may be looked for in the
future. Meanwhile it is to be feared that the greed
of capitalists will hasten the slow process of devel-
opment by the importation of Chinese labour on
a large scale, and the already great number of
Chinese in the country will be vastly augmented.
The Siamese, if not entirely swamped in the Chinese
population, will at least become profoundly modified
by intermarriage. Even now, in many districts, the
Siamese women prefer a thrifty Chinese husband to
the lethargic Siamese.
Perhaps, after all, this would be the happiest
solution for the country's future. The children of
this mixed parentage are amongst the brightest
class in the country. They speak Siamese, have
no particular reverence for the pigtail, which they
as often as not dispense with, and in their sym-
pathies and manners they are entirely Siamese.
81
CHAPTER III
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
"Who M the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?" The Rubaiyat.
THOSE who read on will find much that is not
in keeping with the teachings of Buddhism
set forth in this chapter; so much that it
may seem that little of Buddhism is left. Yet how
are we to understand the beliefs of a people if we
know nothing of the religion which underlies all,
and upon which these beliefs have grown up? And
I must say something of Brahminism too, for not
only did Buddhism grow out of Brahminism some-
what as the Protestant Church grew out of the
Church of Rome, but in Siam the two religions for
long existed side by side, and became so interwoven
that to this day many purely Brahminical customs
and ceremonies remain.
The earliest religion of the Aryan race in India
was a simple adoration of the great forces of nature.
The sacred hymns, the Vedas, were addressed
sometimes to Agni, the God of Fire, sometimes to
Indra, the God of Rain, and yet again to Surya,
the Sun God; yet the religion was of a pantheistic
rather than a polytheistic nature. There were no
temples and no idols in Vedic times. Later came
an elaborate ritual and the division of the people
into castes, headed by the priestly caste of the
Brahmins. Then arose the doctrine of transmigra-
82
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
tion and evolution from the lowest creatures to
man, from man to the demigods, and so to eventual
absorption in the eternal, omnipresent Brahm.
Various systems of philosophy preceded Bud-
dhism. The Vedantists believed that the universe
was all illusion, but the Soul, they said, was in its
essence a part of the Eternal Being, to whom,
when it had acquired sufficient knowledge, it was
again united. The Sankhya philosophers, on the
contrary, did not recognise, though they did not
absolutely deny, the Divine existence. Desire, they
said, implies incompleteness, and therefore imper-
fection. If then there was a perfect God he would
not desire to create, and if there was a God who
desired to create he must necessarily be imperfect,
and therefore unable to do so. The end which was
to be striven for was, as in Buddhism, emancipa-
tion from the necessity of further change free-
dom from the wheel of things.
Buddhism recognised no caste, and for a time it
prevailed in India, but about the sixth century A.D.
it gave way before the modern Hindu cult, which,
originating in the worship of Vishnu and Siva, rap-
idly degenerated into polytheism and gross idolatry.
"This was apparently the religion of some of the
original inhabitants of the country, with whom the
effete remnant of the old Brahminical Aryans allied
themselves to overthrow the Buddhists. In this
they succeeded, but the unholy alliance gave birth
to one of the most monstrous superstitions the
world now knows, but which generally prevails at
83
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
the present day over the whole peninsula of India." *
In the Hindu triad Brahma is recognised as the
creator, Vishnu as the preserver, and Siva as the
destroyer. The doctrine of the avatars or incarna-
tions of a deity is very prominent, and the worship
of Krishna, an avatar of Vishnu, is widespread.
Five hundred years before the Christian era Sri
T'hat T'ha 2 renounced his princely title, his wife,
and child, and went forth to seek the Light. After
some years of strict asceticism he was led to see
that not by mortifying the body could the needs of
the soul be satisfied. So he returned to the world
and the rest of his long life he spent as the great
teacher, the Buddha. 3 And the sum of his teaching
was that ignorance is the root of all evil, for out of
ignorance comes desire, and through desire all the
wrong-doing, all the unhappiness with which our
lives are filled. The end, then, must be to eradicate
ignorance. \Our good actions will help us, indeed,
but they will help us only in that they enable us
to rise to a higher state. As our nature becomes
more perfect so will our understanding be made
more clear and the way to knowledge will be opened
to us. "Knowledge not learning, but the sight
of eternal truth, the perception of the unchanging
laws of the universe." 4
1 Fergusson, The Rock-Cut Temples of India, introduction, p. riv.
*Sri T'hat T'ha, the Siamese equivalent of the Sanscrit Sidharta "one
who has attained his aim." Alabaster, The Wheel of the Law, p. 164.
* The Buddha (Siamese "Pra Puttha Chao"), from Sanscrit Bodhi "tran-
scendent intelligence."
4 James Freeman Clarke, Ten Great Religions, p. 154.
84
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
A criticism often brought against the Buddhist is
that he is working only for his own good. To this
he would reply that to those just entering the path
some reward, some prospect of advancement, must
be held out; but never will they advance far if they
keep this end always in view "He that seeketh
to save his life shall lose it." And the advance-
ment which the Buddhist seeks is not of a material
kind. He so conducts his life as to quench all
worldly lust, and it may be that when very far upon
the path he is reborn upon the earth in lowly guise.
It is true that no spirit of universal brotherhood
animates the Buddhist, but, as Alabaster says,
selfishness which produces unselfishness cannot be
severely condemned. 1
As means to the end the Buddha taught five rules
of conduct which all must observe.
"Thou shalt not take any life at all."
"Thou shalt not obtain another's property by
unjust means."
"Thou shalt not commit adultery."
"Thou shalt not lie."
"Thou shalt not drink intoxicating liquor."
He also founded the great brotherhood of the
yellow robe, who are bound by many additional
vows.
The Buddha recognised that women, no less than
men, were free to enter upon the path, and he per-
mitted the foundation of an order of nuns. But the
nuns are few in number. They enter the nunnery
1 Alabaster, op. cit. preface, p. xx.
85
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
only as a refuge from the world, and so we may
sometimes see them, old women bowed with trouble,
with shaved heads, robed in white.
Buddhism rests not at all upon the miraculous.
When the people go into a temple and kneel before
the Buddha, they reverence him indeed, and repeat
long formulae in his praise, but never do they forget
that he was once a man Pra Samana Kodom
and that in time they may become even as he is.
Pra "the holy" the title used in speaking of
any Buddhist monk. The same word is used to
denote an image of the Buddha or of a disciple, but
so careful are the Siamese to avoid even the sus-
picion of idolatry that in speaking of an image they
often add the word rup (image or picture). Samana,
a Buddhist monk, a corrupted form of the San-
scrit Sramana "one who performs hard penance."
Kodom, the Siamese equivalent of Gautama. Pray
to him they do, in time of trouble or sickness, but
it is in opposition to his teaching. It is natural to
man to pray, and they never look beyond their great
teacher. But the Buddha cannot help them; he did
but point out the way, and every one must work out
his own salvation.
The Christian hopes that in some future life he
may meet again those who were dear to him on
earth, but not so the Buddhist. With death the
personality of a man ceases for ever; but the Buddha
taught that just as our actions produce a chain of
material results, whose end we cannot see, so do
they leave behind a sum of merit and demerit
86
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
the Kharma which goes to make up the next
existence. The life of every Buddhist is tinged
throughout with this doctrine of Kharma, about
which so much has been written and concerning
which so many complicated theories have been
made, but to me it seems a simple enough belief.
The individual existence may be likened to a
body of water, hurrying down a river. We see it
first issuing from the ground in a spring, but we
know that that is not the beginning, just as we
know when we lose sight of it in the ocean that
that is not the end. It fell from the clouds as
rain, and to them, when it has lost its grosser
nature, it will in the end return. Meanwhile it runs
its course on earth: for an instant it exists as a
waterfall, then as a deep, silent pool. We say that
the pool and the waterfall are two distinct things
that they have nothing to do with one another
yet the water in the pool is the same that we looked
at a moment ago in the waterfall. And the analogy
may be carried further, for on the still surface of
the pool are floating froth and bubbles, the effects
of the tumult and confusion of the water in its
previous existence as a waterfall. So do our acts
produce results which continue down the ages, and
according as they are good or bad > our nature is
ennobled or debased, and by so much they deter-
mine whether our next state of existence will be on
a higher or a lower plane. Thus each man shapes
his own destiny.
The illustration of the water must be given with
87
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
some reservation, for Buddhist scholars say that all
that survives is the result of our actions. Accord-
ing to this view the chain of existences finds a more
exact parallel in the motion of a wave. The wave
advances over the surface of the water, but the
water of which it is composed at any one point is
left behind. This subtlety may be left for meta-
physicians to argue over, for the ordinary Buddhist
believes that though the personality becomes ex-
tinct, some principle, which we may call the soul,
survives. Also many scholars say that Nirvanah,
the goal for which the Buddhist aims, is extinction,
but the Buddha did not teach this. He only
refrained from defining in precise terms that which
we are unable to comprehend, 1 but it should be
noticed that Nirvanah is a state of existence which,
as in the case of the Buddha himself, it is possible
to reach upon this earth. So also did he refrain
from speaking of God. But when we have got rid
of the idea of a personal God, a God subject to
human passions, what is the all-pervading Divine
Intelligence in which we believe? "It seems to
me that this Divine Spirit is but the actual spirit
of man, the disposition, be it good or evil And
God the Creator is the Holy Merit and Demerit,
the cause and<shaper of all existence." 2
It is a common belief amongst Buddhists that
every misfortune which we suffer is an atonement
1 Alabaster, op. cit. preface, p. Hi.
2 These are the words of an educated Siamese nobleman, Chao P'hya
T'hipakon, translated under the title of "The Modem Buddhist." Alabaster,
op. cit. p. 71 et seq.
88
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
for sin committed in some previous life. But this
would be both useless and unjust, for we should not
know what it was that we were being punished
for. The law of Kharma does not work so crudely.
We are placed in a certain station, to which we
have become fitted by the acts of our past lives,
but in that station we have to suffer all the changes
and chances of life. Before we can free ourselves
from the wheel we must all be tried by misfortune.
Perhaps some are getting more than their share
in this life, but so much the greater is their present
opportunity. This I believe to be the meaning of
the Buddha's teaching.
To the ordinary Buddhist there are heavens
for reward and hells for atonement. They are de-
scribed in great detail and with wonderful imagery
in the sacred books, but it must be remembered
that these are the work of men who lived long after
the Buddha. The Buddha himself taught only
by word of mouth. And just as he refrained from
speaking of a first cause and of the ultimate destiny
of man, so also he said nothing of the beginning of
the world or of its end. He indulged in no specu-
lations as to the nature of the universe. But the
disciples of the Buddha accepted and elaborated
the Hindu cosmogony.
In the centre of the universe, they say, is Mount
Meru, the dwelling-place of angels and demigods,
who are, however, still subject to the law of Kharma,
and may even be born again upon our earth. These
are the Devas, or in Siamese, Taywadah. One of the
89
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
native names for Mount Everest is Devadhunga,
the Heaven of Indra. As we ascend the mountain
the more blissful are the heavens through which
we pass, and the more perfect are those who dwell
therein, and at last we reach those highest seats of
the blessed where no earthly passions remain, and
from which it is but a short step to Nirvanah.
Surrounding Mount Meru are seven ranges of
mountains, and beyond these is a stormy sea which
no mortal can cross. The whole system is enclosed
by the crystal walls of the world. In the sea are
four great islands, of which three are the abodes of
immortals who suffer no pain, but never can they
escape from the fate which binds them to their
present habitation. The southern island is our
earth, a place of sorrow, but to us alone appear the
Buddhas, the Great Beings who by their tran-
scendent merits are about to pass into Nirvanah,
but who, out of compassion for mankind, descend
amongst us and teach the way by which we likewise
may raise ourselves. Far beneath our earth are the
hells, fearful places of torment, to which for a time
the wicked are condemned, until by suffering their
sin is purged away.
At incalculable periods of time a destroying ele-
ment, whether fire, wind, or water, overwhelms our
earth and with it the hells, and reaching far up
Mount Meru destroys also the lower, more sensual
heavens. Only the highest seats of the blessed are
left. Then for a vast period chaos reigns, but at
length the waters gather together; then a mighty
90
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
wind divides the waters of the sea from the waters
that are overhead, and finally the islands in the sea
appear as before.
In each of the vast periods during which the world
is in existence the stature of man waxes until he
attains titanic proportions and then wanes, whilst
the length of his life varies proportionately. We
are now in a waning period. Our present world was
peopled by three of those almost perfect beings from
the highest seats which had escaped destruction.
In course of time the spiritual light forsook them,
and in answer to their prayers bright angels circled
through the firmament around Mount Meru, and
shed their light upon the earth: we call these angels
the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars. Then as a result
of their new environment these beings began to
feel a desire for food, and rice appeared to satisfy
their needs. By eating they became more gross,
difference of sex arose, and marriage was instituted
amongst them. From that time the rice no longer
appeared, and they were obliged to work. From
the desire of each to possess the fruits of his own
labour arose the idea of personal property. Then
came theft, and from this sprang a multitude of
evils "abuse, reviling, assault, falsehood, and then
punishments." * Law and justice followed, and as
the fountain of justice a King was appointed, and
a tenth of each man's rice was set aside for his ser-
vice. Still crime continued to increase, and sad at
1 J. G. Scott (Shway Yoe), The Burman, his Life and Notions, vol. i. p. 113
(1882).
91
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
heart, many abandoned all their possessions and
begged their food from place to place. In this way
originated the caste of the Brahmins.
Of the countless hosts of Buddhas who have
appeared since the beginning of time, four have
come to our present earth. Two thousand five hun-
dred years hence the teaching of the last Buddha,
Pra Samana Kodom, will be forgotten, and then
another Buddha will appear upon the earth. When
his cycle too has expired, the universe will once
more be destroyed and recreated.
It is unnecessary to say that most educated
Siamese do not now accept this explanation of the
universe. The great King Narai took an intelli-
gent interest in astronomy, and King Mongkut
was an accomplished mathematician, able to work
out the time of an eclipse. Yet in the Bangkok
Debating Society young Siamese of the better class
still gravely discuss whether the world is flat or
round, and although there are many amongst them
who have been to Europe they have not succeeded
in convincing the majority of their fellow mem-
bers, and "flat" is the recorded verdict of the
Society.
But underlying their crude beliefs is a great con-
ception which a truer knowledge of the universe
would in nowise shake, for the Buddhist believes
that his fate is determined by laws of perfect jus-
tice: unalterable, inexorable laws. We think to
sway the Divine Will by our prayers, but to the Bud-
dhist the laws of righteousness are as immutable as
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
Newton's and come, like his, from beyond our ken. 1
As we sow so shall we reap, and we shall reap in
exact proportion to our sowing.
The Christian missionaries teach that if only a
man has faith he will be sure of heaven, but if
after the word has been preached to him he believes
not, then will he be cast into outer darkness; but
the Buddhist cannot understand this. The goal for
which he is striving is within the reach of all, irre-
spective of creed, and it matters not by what path
we reach it. Nay, he does not even assert that the
whole truth has been revealed to him; he is but a
seeker after the light. 2
His attitude toward warring sects is exemplified
in an ancient parable, familiar to Buddhists from
Ceylon to Japan. A company of blind men were
once walking along a road when it chanced that
they met an elephant. Each felt the animal, and
then they fell to discussing what it was that they
had met. One had felt only a tusk and he said it
was something round and smooth; another had felt
the ear and he said that it was large and flat; a
third had felt a leg and he declared that it was like
the trunk of a tree, while a fourth who had felt the
tail said that it was a rope. Soon they began to
quarrel over it and then from words they proceeded
1 Fielding Hall, The Soul of a People, p. 21 (1902).
* "The Modern Buddhist," speaking of the perplexity into which his
countrymen were thrown by the teachings of Roman Catholic and Protestant
missionaries, said, " It is one religion, yet how can we join it when each party
threatens us with hell if we agree with the other, and there is none to decide
between them?" Alabaster, op. cit. p. 33.
93
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
to blows, but a certain sage who had witnessed the
occurrence stopped them and said, "Had you but
pieced together the facts which each perceived, you
would amongst you have arrived at the truth."
An even greater stumbling-block to the Siamese
who is asked to accept Christianity is that he
believes that he is asked to choose between an
eternal heaven or an eternal hell. Speaking of this
a monk once said tome, "Suppose there were two
men, one of whom had made just enough merit to
escape from hell while the other fell short by only a
little of the required standard. Would the former
for his by no means conspicuously good life be
rewarded throughout eternity with all the joys of
paradise while the other, only a shade less good,
suffered the everlasting torments of the damned?"
"The Modern Buddhist" has expressed the same
idea in more beautiful language "How is it pos-
sible that those who have not cleared away the evil
disposition from their soul should attain the most
excellent heaven, and live eternally with God the
Creator? and of those who are to remain in hell for
ever, many have made merit and have done much
good. Shall that be altogether lost?"
The theory of eternal punishment is entirely
opposed to that spirit of endless compassion which
is of the essence of Buddhism, and from such an
idea their reason revolts. In the end we all shall
reach the "Great Deliverance." Yet no death-bed
repentance will save the sinner from his just measure
of atonement, for salvation comes not in a moment.
94
THE BUDDHIST RELIGION
By slow degrees and through many a weary sojourn
will the soul at length be cleansed of desire, and
enter into that Peace which passeth all under-
standing.
95
CHAPTER IV
TEMPLES, IMAGES, AND SYMBOLS
"Only great Brahm endures: the Gods but live."
The Light of Ana.
A BUDDHIST temple is not a house of prayer.
It is a place to which men may come in
order that, by steadfastly setting before
their minds their ideal of all that a man may be, they
may attune their thoughts to the Buddha's teachings.
"It is bootless to worship the Buddha; nothing is
necessary but to revere him and the memory of him.
Statues are only useful in so far as they refresh the
memory; for as the farmer sows the seed and gathers
in the grain in due season, so will the man who trusts
in the Buddha and holds fast by his sacred Law
obtain the deliverance and pass into Nehban." x
Their reverence finds expression in words of
praise, and in such simple acts of worship as the lay-
ing of a flower at the Buddha's feet. The Buddha's
view of life they keep ever in their thoughts by
the repetition of certain formulae: "All is change-
ful; all is sorrow; all is illusion." And this belief
in the impermanence of things has profoundly
influenced their buildings. "Where is the use of
1 Translation from the Yatana Kalapa Scott, op. cit. vol. i. p. 221.
96
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
laboriously carving figures in the hardest stone when
the most indestructible of them could only last for
a time which is but as a ripple in the stream of
eternity?" 1 But in the heart of the people there
is no change: the Buddhist knows that his temples
will soon crumble away, but he knows, too, that his
children will raise up others in their stead.
And so Bangkok is a veritable city of temples.
Here and there as we row along the river or through
the small canals we pass a little covered landing-
stage, with steps leading down into the water. Let
us stop at one of them, it matters little which. On
the bank a wide space is swept smooth and planted
with trees, amongst which are little rest-houses
(salas) very simple just a floor raised a few feet
off the ground and a gabled roof, with open sides.
Here the market-woman puts down her basket and
sits awhile, chatting to the passers-by. Some way
back from the river is the white outer wall of the
temple, and before the gateway stand monstrous
demoniacal figures, or lions, carved by cunning
Chinese artificers. Lions were employed as the
guardians of the gate as long ago as the second
century A.D. by the sculptors at Amaravati, and these
very lions may now be seen on the great staircase of
the British Museum.
Passing through the gate we find ourselves within
a low colonnade which surrounds a spacious court.
On either hand stretches in long perspective a row of
gilded images, seated with crossed legs, life size and
Op. cU. vol. i. p. 228.
97
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
all alike. They represent the eighty chief disciples
of the Buddha, but often they greatly exceed this
number. In the centre of the court stands a lofty
building whose whitewashed walls are pierced low
down by a row of square-cut windows, half concealed
behind the square white pillars of a peristyle; but
the great glory of the building is its tiled roof, ris-
ing high above, and glowing with all the gorgeous
colours that the East can bestow.
In a single temple there are often many such
buildings, but one of them, the bawt, is more holy
than all the rest, and in it alone can a man take the
vows and become a monk. The other buildings
are the wihans or image-houses. The bawt is dis-
tinguished by eight stones called the bai sema, set
around it at the four cardinal and the four inter-
mediate points. They are cut into the shape of the
leaves of the sacred Bo tree, and underneath are
buried round stones and small silver coins sprinkled
with lustral water. By this means all evil influences
are to be kept within the sacred precincts, and the
sprinkling of the water has special significance, for
by it the ground is consecrated for ever to the use
of the monks. It was a very ancient Brahminical
custom, when giving a piece of land, to sprinkle the
place with water in confirmation of the grant. Old
Indian sculptures show that the water was poured
from a conch shell or from a vessel with a long spout,
something like a tea-pot. A gold tea-pot forms part
of the insignia which the King of Siam gives to
high Government officials, and Alabaster suggests
98
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
that the significance of this gift was originally con-
nected with the custom of pouring water on the
ground. 1
When the Buddha was being tempted by the evil
angel P'hya Man (Mara), he called upon the Earth
to give testimony to his great acts, since there was
no man who could bear him witness, and in his
appeal he reminded the Earth that whenever he
had performed a great act he had not failed to pour
water upon her. Thereupon the angel of the Earth
sprang from the ground in the form of a lovely
woman, and admitting the truth of his words she
wrung her long hair, and a flood of waters gushed
forth from it which utterly swept away the host of
P'hya Man. 1 The Siamese call the Angel of the
Earth "Pra Torani," and regard her as the great
mother of all mankind.
The numerous courts of the temple open one out
of another, with little regularity of plan. In some
are the rows of small buildings where the monks
dwell, each in his own room. Others are filled with
leafy trees and artificial rocks and ponds; again in
others stand the bell-shaped pra chedis surmounted
by slender spires, or the blunter columns, raised on
terraced stages, known as pra prangs. A pra chedi
or a pra prang is often the most important archi-
tectural feature of the whole temple, and sometimes
the courts and buildings are grouped symmetrically
about it.
In all this there is little of real architectural merit.
1 Alabaster, op. ctt. p. 224. Ibid. p. 155.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
In the north the pillars of the temples are often
great posts of teak, set out of the perpendicular so
as to incline inward at the top, but in southern
Siam they are almost invariably built of brick. The
arch is never employed; doors and windows are
simply rectilinear openings narrowing towards the
top, and the lintels are beams of wood. The pedi-
ments are sometimes finely decorated with carving
in teak, very deeply cut, the rich tones of the wood
harmonising with a background of dark blue, but
more often the designs are moulded in plaster. The
pra chedis and pra prangs seem from a distance to
be carved in stone, sparkling with mosaics which
flash back a hundred colours in the sunlight, and
wrought into their fabrics are the forms of giants
and goblins; but in reality they are all brick and
plaster, too, and the mosaics are bits of broken
china stuck into the plaster with little skill. Every-
thing is perishable and much is tawdry, yet about
it all, as we wander through the cool cloisters, past
the rows of placid figures, there is a feeling of won-
derful aloofness from the turmoil which we have
left outside.
And still greater is the peace and quiet when we
enter the darkened bawt. On either side we see
ranks of pillars rising till they are lost in the shadows
of the roof, and at one end the seated figure of the
Buddha sheds his ineffable calm abroad. Some-
times he sits alone, but more often the seated figure
is at the apex of a pyramid whose lower steps are
crowded with images, some seated and holding fans
100
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
before them, some standing, with raised hands as if
in act to bless. On the lowest step are many offer-
ings of an incongruous nature: cheap clocks and
ornaments of atrocious European design. The
wihans are very similar, but sometimes a single
colossal image occupies the whole of the building,
and always the interior is dimly lit, for most of the
windows are closely shuttered and the fresco-covered
walls reflect but little light.
In the temples the Buddha is represented in
many different attitudes. The commonest shows
him seated with crossed legs, as when under the Bo
tree he first saw the Light; more rarely he is sit-
ting in European fashion upon a throne. Sometimes
he is represented walking through the land and stay-
ing all strife with one hand stretched palm outward
before him, and sometimes he is reclining upon his
side, as he lay upon his death-bed. Of this last
type is the so-called "Sleeping Buddha" in Bang-
kok; a mighty figure one hundred and twenty feet
in length.
The Buddha may always be recognised by the
glory, the sirot, upon his head. Amongst the marks
which the popular superstition insisted upon as
characteristic of a Great Being, and which were,
therefore, pre-eminently marks of the Buddha, was
a curiously pointed cranium covered with refulgent
hair. From this the Siamese derived their idea of
the glory, which does not encircle the head like a
halo, but rises flame-like above it. Sometimes the
sirot is clearly intended to represent a flame and
101
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
nothing else, but generally it is conventionalised
into the form of an arrow-head, and this by shorten-
ing is easily transformed into the shape of a lotus
bud.
From the sirot the Siamese derived their idea of
a crown, which is therefore with them a pyramidal
structure whose essential part is not the circlet round
the head, but the point above it. 1 The crown con-
sists of decreasing circlets surrounded by upstand-
ing spikes, and it bears a curious resemblance to the
mitre which was worn by the richer classes in an-
cient Chaldeea four thousand years ago. 2 Though
the crown was derived from the sirot we very often
see images of the Buddha in which the sirot has been
replaced by a crown.
The remainder of the Buddha's head is covered
with small knobs which represent his hair. When
Prince Sri T'hat T'ha left his palace "he reflected
that his long hair did not become the character of
a poor ascetic," and so as no one was worthy to
touch his head he cut the hair off with his own
sword, praying, "May my hair thus cut be neat and
even, and by the force of his prayer the hair parted
evenly, leaving each hair about an inch and a half
in length, and they curled in right-handed spirals,
and never grew more to the last day of his life."
The head is considered peculiarly sacred in Eastern
countries. Thus the Brahmins considered that they
sprang from the head of Brahma while the lower
1 Alabaster, op. tit. p. 207.
1 Rawlinson, Five Ancient Monarchies, vol. i. p. 133, illustration.
102
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
castes sprang from less honourable portions of his
body. In Siam it is considered a mark of great dis-
respect to touch a person's head. In a well-made
image each separate spiral is clearly indicated. <*.
Amongst the other signs of a Great Being is a
network of lines covering the palms of the hands
and the soles of the feet; this is sometimes found
on images. Often the hands, or feet, or both are
marked with a disc, the sign Chakkra> an emblem
of great antiquity. In the eldest sculptures the
Chakkra is in the form of a chariot wheel. We can
well understand how, in primitive times, the possessor
of a chariot adopted the wheel as a symbol of his
superiority over his enemies; a wheel under the foot
would convey the idea of fleetness, which has always
been considered an attribute of greatness. Later
the wheel developed into a radiant weapon, the
discus of Indra, which destroyed those against whom
it was hurled. As adopted by the Buddhists it is
"the Wheel of Law" which utterly exterminates
the evil disposition of all beings. The wheel is
also typical of that endless chain of existences from
which there is no escape but in Nirvanah. "To
turn the Wheel of the Law" is a mystic expression
which may refer to the practical illustration of a
wheel, a thing perfect in itself without beginning or
end, and therefore emblematic of eternity. From
this idea, perhaps, arose the prayer wheels of the
Tibetans.
The circular Celtic crosses which are preserved
in many English churches are often indistinguish-
103
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
able from the Chakkra. It seems that the wheel
emblem was first faithfully copied, but with only
eight spokes. Then it was seen that these eight
spokes outlined the arms of a cross. To make this
more apparent the alternate sectors were sometimes
removed, but the rim of the wheel was always
allowed to remain.
In representations of the footprint of the Buddha,
which are often found in the temples, there are
one hundred and eight other signs surrounding the
Chakkra. Amongst these are the insignia of Roy-
alty: the seven or nine-tiered white umbrella, the
sword, the fan, the golden slippers, and the jewelled
crown. Here also is the cow, a symbol of Gau-
tama, and the Naga (hooded serpent), hen, and
crocodile, symbols of the Buddhas who preceded
him upon our earth, as well as the tiger, symbol of
him who shall come hereafter. Here is the huge
fish who swims hi the waters beneath the earth,
giving rise to earthquakes, and here too are some
of those precious things recovered from the ocean
when it was churned in the tortoise incarnation of
Vishnu. Alabaster believes that this great elabo-
ration of signs was due to Siamese fancy, and formed
no part of the older Ceylonese superstition of the
footprint.
r^One peculiarity which is never absent in a Sia-
mese image of the Buddha is the length of the ears,
but I do not think that this was specially charac-
teristic of a Grand Being. It was a general custom
of great antiquity amongst the aboriginal inhab-
104
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
itants of the land to pierce the lobes of the ears
and put cylinders in them, so that they often nearly
touched the shoulders. This custom seems to have
been handed on to the Cambodians. There is
scarce one out of the thousands of figures portrayed
in the carvings at the Nakawn Wat that has not
got these immensely elongated lobes, and, generally,
an elaborate form of ear-ring. In Siam the custom
of wearing ear-rings is not now more common than
it is with us.
I have already said that the strict Buddhist does
not believe in prayer, yet he will not altogether
forego it, and as he kneels before the image of the
Buddha he often asks that what he desires may
come to pass. His prayer is not directly addressed
to the Buddha, and it is rather by the force of his
own inherent merit that he expects his prayer to be
answered, as in the story quoted above, when Sri
T'hat T'ha cut off his locks.
In those temples which are chiefly frequented by
the Chinese are to be found the most imposing
images, and in them the note of idolatry is unmis-
takable. All day long these temples are thronged
with worshippers, whilst, except on the Buddhist
holy days, the temples of the Siamese are empty.
The simple reverential raising of joined hands with
which the Siamese enter their own temples is here
replaced by the most abject prostrations, and clouds
of incense roll up to the dim roof. Here can no
one come for quiet and meditation. In one corner
is a man beating a drum, to attract the attention
105
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
of any wandering spirits who may be disposed to
show favour to one meritoriously engaged. Else-
where is a stall at which gold leaf may be purchased,
to stick upon such parts of the image as are within
reach. A constant rattle proceeds from those who
are shaking strips of stick out of a dice-box. The
strips are numbered and a corresponding paper will
tell them whether or not they are likely to prosper
in whatever enterprise they have come to inquire
about. Yet first they will make trial of the oracle
by taking two pieces of wood, flat upon one side
and rounded on the other. These they throw into
the air saying, "If this numbered stick will give
me a true answer may both these pieces of wood
come down with their rounded sides uppermost."
This they repeat in many ways before they feel
confident that the gods are not making sport of
them. When at length they are satisfied they get
their printed answer, which we may be sure is not
too definite. With it they buy a gilded paper and
some crackers, which they burn in a stone or iron
cauldron at the door of the temple, and this, the
thrifty Chinaman says, answers just as well as
though he had offered a great sum of money. The
majority of those who thus seek to inquire into the
future are about to buy a ticket in the lottery.
Just as in Roman Catholic churches there are
images of saints, so in Siam we find images of many
holy men, and a few of women, whom they rever-
ence for their good lives only in less degree than
they reverence the Buddha. Chief amongst these
106
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
are Pra Mokhalan and Pra Sariput, the two prin-
cipal disciples, who often stand one on either side
of the Buddha, with joined hands, Pra Mokhalan
being on the left, the more honourable station.
This disciple was murdered by a robber, but the
Siamese will not have it that he was killed, for
though his bones were all broken into small pieces
they miraculously joined together again. '
And just as Roman Catholics believe in patron
saints, so do the Siamese think that these holy men
will act as intercessors for them with some higher
power. Therefore if they break a limb they invoke
the healing power of Pra Mokhalan.
The images of Pra Mokhalan and Pra Sariput
have no sirot, and their heads are represented
shaven. The images of the disciples surrounding
the courts, however, all have the sirot and can in
nowise be distinguished from images of the Buddha.
Sometimes in the temples we may see an image
with emaciated figure and shaved head. This rep-
resents Pra Samana Kodom (Gautama) when he
was a hermit in the jungle, wasted with hunger.
He has no sirot, for he was not yet the Buddha.
But some images of the Buddha seated in European
fashion are also called "The Buddha in the jungle."
One hand lies palm upward on his lap to receive
the gifts of the pious, and he is accompanied by
small figures representing an elephant and a monkey
kneeling on the ground at his feet, and uplifting
offerings towards him.
Generally sitting in a little wihan all by himself
107
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
is the enormously fat Pra Sangkachai, cradling his
burdensome belly in clasped hands. Endless are
the stories told of this jolly saint. He was once
tall and beautiful like the other disciples, but in his
pride he spoke vaingloriously to one of them. There-
upon that disciple laid his hand upon the head of
Pra Sangkachai, who immediately became squat
and fat, and so ever after he remained. One day
he was bathing, when a man passing by upon the
river bank jeeringly remarked that he would like
to have a wife as plump as that. For this disre-
spect the man was himself turned into a woman.
Pra Sangkachai is he whom the farmers suppli-
cate for rain, and in the Bangkok museum there is
a rare image of this saint stretching forth one hand
and calling down the rain. But the women pray
to Pra Sangkachai that they may not be childless.
Elsewhere we may come upon a figure seated in
the attitude of contemplation and wearing a curious
head-dress. This is one of the Reussi, a Yogi or
hermit, to whom by virtue of his extreme asceticism
the gates of knowledge have been opened. The
head-dress represents his untended hair, and its
curious form is perhaps a reminiscence of a former
fashion of the Siamese, who at one time cut their
hair into a sort of inverted brush. Long ago it
was the custom for the sons of great nobles to be
sent to learn from a Reussi.
Less often we may see the sinister figure of Pra
Yama, standing between his two assistants. He it
is who passes judgment upon men after death, and
108
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
allots to each his measure of punishment in hell.
He is a being of perfect justice, but to inspire the
popular mind with awe he is represented with repel-
lent countenance. Pra Yama was taken from Vedic
mythology, in which he was regarded as the first mor-
tal who died, and he corresponds to the Greek Pluto.
The Miltonic conception of Satan is closely par-
alleled by the angel P'hya Man, who descended to
our earth to become the tempter of Pra Samana
Kodom before he had attained to Buddhahood.
He could take many forms, and he is sometimes
portrayed in the frescoes.
In the museum there is a curious set of bronze
images of angels, riding each on a different animal:
a horse, a stag, a dragon, and so on. They repre-
sent the Sun, the Moon, and the planets, after which
the days of the week are named, and it is a very
remarkable thing that the Siamese days are called
by the names of the same celestial bodies as our
own. Thus Pra Atit is the Angel of the Sun, and
their Wan Atit is our Sunday; Wan Chan, the day
of the Moon, is our Monday; Wan Angkan, the
day of Mars (Anglo-Saxon Tiw), is our Tuesday;
Wan Pid, the day of Mercury (A.S. Woden), is our
Wednesday; Wan Prahat, the day of Jupiter (A.S.
Thar), is our Thursday; Wan Suk, the day of Venus
(A.S. Frige), is our Friday; and Wan Sao, the day
of Saturn, is our Saturday. We see here how a system
invented by the ancient Chaldseans has spread to
countries as far apart as England and Siam.
In addition to these seven angels there are two
109
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
other brothers, Pra Ket (Ketu), a benignant deity
who is propitiated during the hair-cutting ceremony,
and the eldest, the terrible Pra Rahoo. Sometimes
all these angels meet in the sky, and then Pra Rahoo
tries to swallow his brothers, causing an eclipse of
the sun if it be by day, and of the moon by night.
Then all the people fire off guns and beat gongs
and rattle tins together, that by this dreadful noise
they may scare Pra Rahoo away. Wise Brahmin
astrologers tell them when they must be on the
lookout, and so far their efforts have always been
in time to save the luminaries from destruction.
A similar form of this superstition occurs amongst
primitive people in all parts of the world.
Amongst the carvings we come across many
figures in attitudes of adoration, and these too are
angels. Nor are the old gods of India forgotten,
though their images never occupy an important
place in the temples. But though Brahminism sur-
vives it has long since been reconciled with Bud-
dhism, for all the Brahmin gods, they say, are angels,
dwelling in one of the heavens upon Mount Meru.
Lord of all the lower angels is Pra In (Indra), and
to him especially the people pray, for he exercises
a great influence over the affairs of men. The
frescoes in the temples are generally scenes from
the life of the Buddha, and everywhere Pra In
appears, now making offerings to the Buddha and
now leading the countless multitudes of angels down
to earth that they may share in the benefit of his
teachings.
110
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
But an almost equally favourite subject is the
great Hindu epic, the Ramakien (Ramayana), which
tells how Pra Rama, the great hero, or demigod
in his character as an avatar of Vishnu, assisted by
the monkeys under Hanuman, made war against
the giants of Ceylon and their demon king, Ravana,
who had carried off his wife.
Conspicuous in the plaster decoration of the
pra prangs we may often see Pra Narai (Vishnu),
riding on his three-headed elephant, and a very
common feature of the decoration of the pediment
is a winged creature, P'hya Krut (Garuda), upon
whose back Pra Narai was wont to ride through
the air.
In the museum in Bangkok there stands a fine
life-size bronze statue of Vishnu. It came from the
north, from near Pitsunalok, where it stood in the
jungle, and there the simple villagers used to come
and garland it with flowers, and place lighted candles
on the ground before it. But one day a European
traveller passed that way, and being unable to bear
away the complete figure he knocked off its head,
and took that. In great trouble the villagers went
to the local authorities, who wrote to Bangkok,
where the head was recovered; but the Govern-
ment seeing that they had got the head then
sent for the body also, and having repaired it set
it in the museum; so the villagers lost their god
after all.
Pra Isuen (Siva) is generally represented with
four arms, but sometimes he has as many as ten.
Ill
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
He rides upon a humped Brahmin bull, and a small
Buddha is often shown upon his head. The Buddha,
they say, and Pra Isuen made trial which could hide
from the other, but everywhere that the one hid
the other was able to see him, till at length the
Buddha sat upon Pra Isuen's head. Of this Pra
Isuen was not aware, and so the Buddha gained the
victory.
Far higher than the sensual heaven of Indra are
the heavens of the Brahmas, the meditative angels.
Their heavens are higher even than the Tushita
heaven in which a Bodhisat, a being about to become
a Buddha, spends his last angelic existence before
being born upon earth to assume the Buddhahood.
The Bodhisats are filled with compassion for man-
kind and they voluntarily renounce the higher
heaven that they may be reborn the sooner upon
earth, for the span of existence allotted to the
Brahmas is vast beyond imagination. To the con-
dition of a Brahma, man may raise himself by his
own unaided efforts, but to reach Nirvanah, to
escape for ever from the course of transmigration, it
is necessary, the monks say, that he should happen
to be born upon the earth at the same time as a
Buddha, and hear his teaching. If I have made
myself clear in the last chapter it is unnecessary
to repeat here that Gautama claimed no such spe-
cial virtue for his words. Alabaster believes that
the leaders of Buddhism, recognising the high char-
acter of many who did not agree with them, were
sufficiently tolerant to admit that they might attain
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
a very high position in the scale of existence, yet
like the leaders of all other religions they would
acknowledge no way to the perfect Peace save that
propounded by their own teacher.
I have dwelt at some length upon the subject of
the lower divinities or angels, for to many it is a
source of great perplexity to see, in the frescoes, the
Buddha surrounded by the figures of Brahmin gods.
In the frescoes the Buddha is invariably robed in red,
with face and hands of gold. Indra is always green,
and the Brahmas are represented with four faces.
Thus the pages of Siamese mythology are crowded
with a host of figures, for to the legion of Buddhist
saints is added the whole pantheon of the Hindus.
Then, too, there are the countless denizens of Him-
ap'han, the Buddhist fairyland. There are the
Kinares, half human and half bird. There also is
the wonderful tree on which beautiful young girls
grow, and wither away in seven days. Even the
goblins and devils of Taoism are allowed a place in
the decoration of the temples.
And side by side with this great company we find
emblems taken from sources so old that it is hard to
say whence they come. Look up at the roof of the
bawt, to where the ends of the ridge curve up into
graceful horns. This is a relic of snake-worship,
for the horns are meant for Nagas' heads. The
serpent is a symbol of many things: of wisdom, of
healing, of power over wind and rain; and most
intimately connected with serpents is the idea of
life. An old Mexican legend identifies the Sun
113
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
God, the father of the human race, with a serpent. 1
The sun and the serpent both typify "the invig-
orating power of nature the life transmitted from
generation to generation." 2 According to Fergus-
son, Buddhism was chiefly influential amongst snake-
worshipping tribes, but its supporters repressed the
worship of the serpent and elevated tree-worship in
its place. 8 At the Nakawn Wat the serpent symbol
is so predominant that Fergusson believed that
temple to have been built for snake-worship, but
in the carvings of the Buddhist stupa at Amara-
vati, now in the British Museum, it occurs with
almost equal frequency, and it is also seen on the
rail of the Sanchi Tope.
The superior Nagas were regarded as very power-
ful beings, generally working for good, though some-
times they poisoned the air with their breath, thus
causing a pestilence. The lesser Nagas were liable
to be pounced upon and carried off by the great
winged P'hya Krut.
In the "Birth stories," which relate the previous
existences upon earth of him who became the
Buddha, one tells how he was born as a Naga
King. He was wont to come by night and lie in
the shade of a tree on the banks of the river, but
at sunrise he changed into the form of an angel,
and all the female Nagas took the likeness of human
x The "Serpent Symbol in America," by E. G. Squier, published in Amer-
ican Archaeological Researches, No. 1, p. 161.
'"Snake Symbol in India," by J. H. Rivett-Carnac, reprinted from the
Journal of As. Soc. Bengal, 1879, p. 13.
* Fergusson, Tree and Serpent Worship, p. 62.
114
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
beings. Now P'hya Krut was desirous of bearing
off the Naga King, so he went to one of the Reussi
to learn how he might accomplish his object. Then
when the Reussi had given him advice he procured
a snake charmer, but neither could the charmer
prevail against the Naga King nor could the latter
prevail against the charmer, so they slew each other
continually and as often returned to life again.
This version is taken from the inscription beneath
a fresco in Wat Chang, Bangkok.
In the story of the Buddha's life the seven-headed
Naga appears spreading his hood over the Teacher's
head, to shield him from a great storm.
Not only do Nagas form the terminals of the roof
ridge, but they also appear at the extremities of the
eaves. Here they have a more flame-like appear-
ance, but we have only to look at their bodies,
writhing up the gable ends, to have no doubt as to
their meaning.
The doorways and windows are generally sur-
mounted by a tapering canopy of carved wood or
plaster decoration. At the apex of the canopy a
Naga's head, of the same character as the roof
terminal, often projects from the wall.
In many temple buildings wooden brackets spring
from below the capitals of the pillars to the eaves,
and these are also carved to represent Nagas.
So prevalent is this symbol that in the exterior
decoration of a single temple building, such as the
bawt of Wat Pra Keo, it occurs more than one
hundred times.
115
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Few things are more curious to note than the
recurrence of an exactly similar form of serpent
symbol in Norway. Some old Norwegian churches
are built with their roofs in many tiers, resembling
the Siamese, and the roof ridge is finished off with
Nagas' heads, of the same general type as the
Siamese, but more easily recognisable, owing to
their greater elaboration.
Of tree-worship there are abundant reminiscences
in Siam. Whenever we see on the bank of the
river a grove of trees, larger and finer than the
rest, we may be sure that amongst them there is
hidden a temple. The very name for a temple
wat is probably derived from the Sanscrit vata,
a grove. 1 The robes of dying monks are hung, as
offerings, upon the Bo trees growing in the courts.
The Bo tree is revered by Buddhists because it
was while sitting beneath its protecting shade
that the Buddha became omniscient, and the
Buddha himself showed his gratitude by standing
with unclosed eyes for seven days, as an offering
to the tree. 2 But from the very dawn of history,
trees have been held in reverence. Men of all
nations have considered it a sacred duty to plant
trees, and "the grove was man's first temple." 3
Whilst snake-worship was typical of the male or
generative power of nature, the grove symbolised
the female principle, but it was with the fruit alone
1 Alabaster, op. cit. p. 282. The term wat includes the temple and the
monks' dwelling-houses.
1 Ibid. p. 161.
' C. Staniland Wake, Serpent-Worship, p. 2.
116
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
that this idea was first connected. The palm-tree,
like the snake, typified the male creator. The ban-
yan, the Bo tree of the Buddhists, in itself repre-
sents the dual idea, the stately trunk answering
to the Tree of Life, whilst the fruit is emblematic of
the female. 1 The banyan or some other member of
the Ficus tribe is viewed with veneration through-
out Africa and New Zealand, and by the aborigines
of northern Australia. 2 In India the Bo tree was
often seen encircling a palm, and in this the Bud-
dhists saw a conjunction of the male and female
elements, symbolic of a perfect being complete in
himself, and in a higher sense of perfect wisdom.
For a similar reason the lotus is an emblem of
the Buddha. Another and more poetic idea is
contained in the lotus symbol. It grows with its
roots deep down in the black mud; the stem rises
up through the water, emblematic of eternity, and
it comes to perfect fruition in the pure air above.
The lotus form is employed in the capitals of col-
umns, and everywhere it is prominent in the deco-
rative designs. Very often the Buddha is portrayed
standing upon a lotus; but the lotus was venerated
in Egypt ages before Gautama lived.
The pra chedis represent another set of ideas
ancestor- worship for the pra chedi can be traced
back to the tumulus. When the Buddha lay upon
his death-bed he directed his disciples to collect
his bones after cremation, and to bury them under
1 C. Staniland Wake, op. cit. p. 23.
1 Ibid. p. 16 et seq.
117
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
a mound like a heap of rice. Hence the mounds
or stupas in India were originally intended to cover
relics of the Buddha or of some saint, and as such
they were venerated by Buddhists. Later they
were used to mark sacred spots, and finally they
were raised without any special object, but merely
as a votive offering. They are very common in
Siam, and by a misuse they are often placed over
the bones of men by their relatives.
The earliest stupas in India were hemispherical.
Afterwards the hemisphere was raised upon a
cylinder, which gave to the stupa more the appear-
ance of a tower. The hemispherical dome sup-
ported a square block, which represented the box
in which the relic was placed, and above this came
a finial, built in the form of an umbrella, with three,
seven, or nine stories. Later on this finial became
much more important, and assumed the proportions
of a spire.
In Siam the earliest pra chedis were built in the
neighbourhood of Sawankalok. They were bell-
shaped, of no great height compared with their
diameter, and stood on square bases. They are
now as a rule given more slender proportions and
the base is omitted. The bell-shaped dome is sur-
mounted by a spire, moulded into rings which
clearly represent the tiers of the old umbrella-
shaped finial, though their number has been greatly
increased.
Sometimes the cross-section of the dome is square,
but with re-entrant angles. As a rule only small
118
TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
examples of this type are found, and the larger pra
chedis are free from any elaboration. The dome
swells in an unbroken curve, and a great pagoda,
such as that at Prapratom, possesses a dignity and
power that is altogether lacking in the polygonal
forms of Burma.
The form known as pra prang was derived from
the old Brahmin shrines which were raised upon
pyramidal structures. The relics or bones which
they contain are therefore enclosed at the summit
of the pyramidal structure, and at the base of the
column which it supports. The lofty proportions
given to the column may be connected with the
phallic idea.
The Sanchi Tope is surrounded by a circle of
upright stones, connected by three cross-bars. It
is probable that similar circles were at first made
of wood, and when, later on, they were built of
stone, the old forms were adhered to. In Cambodia
certain pagodas, constructed on the ruins of ancient
sanctuaries, are even now surrounded with fences
made of wood, and these may be accurate repro-
ductions of the old circles which they have replaced.
The gateways of these enclosures differ from those
at Sanchi, in having only two cross-bars. They
are, in fact, almost identical in form with the Shinto
gates (toriis) of Japan.
The great pra prang at Sawankalok, built in the
eleventh century A.D., was, I believe, surrounded
by a ring of monoliths surmounted by a simple
architrave, resembling the outer circle at Stone-
119
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
henge. I had no opportunity of visiting Sawan-
kalok and, although photographs show that there
are some monoliths which still remain upright, it
is possible that these belonged only to gateways.
In some modern Siamese temples the ancient enclo-
sures are represented by a number of small pra
chedis built around the base of a great pra chedi
and sometimes a circular court surrounds the pra
chedi. Perhaps we may regard all the courts of
the temple as derived in this way. In the old
Cambodian temples the enclosures at an early date
were rectangular in shape, and took the form already
described in the introduction.
Tall wooden masts may often be seen standing in
the temple grounds. Upon the top of the mast a
bird is carved, and this probably represents Hanasa,
upon whom Brahma rides through the air. Hanasa
is the same as the swan, the bird of eternity, which
carries on the life principle from one epoch of the
world's creation to the next. 1
Underlying serpent, tree, and ancestor- worship are
phallic ideas, and phallic worship itself is not dead in
Siam. This is probably the oldest religion in the
world, for we are here brought back to the origin of
all religions: "awe at the mysterious and unknown." 2
In many temples stand Lingas, often of a grossly real-
istic character, which are still worshipped, and against
certain trees in the jungle may be seen piles of phallic
emblems rudely carved out of sticks.
1 The winged globe of Egypt is another form of the same symbol.
8 C. Staniland Wake, op. cit. p. 10.
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TEMPLES, IMAGES, SYMBOLS
In Brahminism Siva holds his place as the de-
stroyer, and in this character he must be identified
with the Vedic Rudra, but he was also associated
with the idea of generative power. His body is
encircled by a snake, and the Ling a is his symbol.
Vishnu, on the other hand, represented the opposite
principle in nature, symbolised by the conch shell.
As Mahadeva, Siva was the Great God, to whom
belonged the attributes of all the other gods. The
trident of Siva is emblematic of the mystic three in
one, the being complete in himself, and in many
images of Siva the same idea is expressed by the
outstretched thumb and first and little fingers of one
hand. From the trident is derived the fleur de lys
of France. A similar form of holding the fingers is
employed by peasants in Italy to ward off the evil
eye. So also the Lingam is symbolic of the perfect
being and, like the Lotus and the Bo tree, is an
emblem of the Buddha.
121
CHAPTER V
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE YELLOW
ROBE
"Listen to the merchant and it appears you have yet ten thousand years
to live;
Talk with the priest and you will die a thousand deaths each day."
Siamese Proverb.
IN the preceding chapters I have tried to set
down the essential beliefs of Buddhism and
some of the common superstitions with which
it is surrounded. The present chapter and the one
which follow are concerned more with showing how
far their religion enters into the daily lives of the
people.
And first it is necessary to say that those who
never go out of Bangkok cannot hope to know the
Siamese. Corrupted by the example of Europeans
and demoralised by contact with the riff -raft 7 of all
nations, the native of the capital must not be held
up as a fair sample of his race. Yet even amidst
these surroundings it seems to me that the Siamese
keep in a wonderful degree the spirit of their relig-
ion. That the children are well fed and as happy
as the day is long is an accident of their environ-
ment, but the affection lavished on them by their
parents is surely due to something more than this,
THE YELLOW ROBE
And their compassion extends very generally to
the lower animals. A few of the gharries are owned
and driven by Siamese. Their ponies are always
well cared for, and the difference between them and
the ponies from the Chinese and Indian stables is
remarkable.
There is no such blot on the morality of Bangkok
as the Yoshiwara of Tokio. At night the streets
are almost deserted, and drunkenness, though an
increasing evil, is still comparatively rare. It is not
generally accounted safe to venture alone after dark
into the Chinese quarter, and indeed one would hesi-
tate so to explore the slums of many of our own cities,
but if our fancy prompts us we may stumble at any
hour of the night through the pitchy blackness of the
narrow Siamese markets, and no one will molest us.
At about the age of twenty every respectable
Siamese enters a monastery, where he stops just
as long as he feels inclined, but two months is
the shortest stay which is considered decent. The
neophyte rides to the temple with a crown upon his
head, escorted by his relatives and friends, bearing
presents for the monks. By this they recall the
last splendid appearance of Prince Sri That T'ha
before he renounced all to become a poor ascetic.
In the bawt the neophyte puts off his gorgeous
raiment and dons the yellow robe, the emblem of
humility, for in olden time this was the garb of
outcasts. Sometimes little boys of ten or twelve
are admitted as novices and wear the yellow robe
like their elders. They often enter the wot on the
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
day of the cremation of a parent, for whom they
hope to ensure a happy transmigration by the merit
which they acquire. There are also other boys
living in the wot, one attached to each monk as his
child or disciple, and to perform menial duties for
him. The monks may not touch silver, but their
chilas sometimes receive it for them.
By putting on the yellow robe a Siamese acquires
a new social importance. I remember a coolie on
a house-boat belonging to a friend of mine, who fell
off into the river. The matter was not reported for
some time, and when my friend heard of it, it was
considered that the coolie must have either swum
ashore or been drowned, and that in any case it was
too late to go back and look for him. Some months
later, while we were at dinner in Bangkok, a monk
was shown in, and taking a chair asked how we
were getting on. We thought it very friendly of
him, but as we could not remember ever having
seen him before we did not quite understand it.
Presently, however, he explained that he was the
missing coolie. He had spent the interval in a
monastery, and had now come to get the balance
of his pay, which was still owing to him. Had he
come back as a coolie, he would have approached
in very humble fashion, but coming as a monk he
treated it merely as a little business matter between
equals, and throughout the interview showed no
embarrassment.
Concerning the monasteries very different opinions
have been arrived at by different writers, and some
124
THE YELLOW ROBE
declare that they are sinks of iniquity. It appears
to me that ihe majority of the monks are simple,
kindly men, of little learning, practising no great
austerities, and possessing no great virtues, but, on
the whole, leading blameless lives. But many enter
the monasteries from no other motive than laziness,
and some belong to the lowest criminal class, who
hope thus to escape from justice. These are t}ie
men who bring the monasteries into ill repute. I
have lived for many months within the precincts
of wats, where I have always been so hospitably
received, and have met with so much courtesy, that
it would be ingratitude indeed in me to speak
against them. Though my opinion cannot be
wholly favourable I only desire that some reformer
should arise who would insist upon a stricter observ-
ance of the rules. So would he sweep out the lazy,
worthless element, and in so doing would deserve
well of his country.
King Mongkut, who was himself a monk for
twenty-six years before his accession, was fully
aware of the evils arising from a lax interpretation
of the rules, and whilst still in the monkhood he
became the founder of the Pra Dhamayut sect.
They may be distinguished by their habit of carry-
ing the iron begging-bowls before them with both
hands, while the older sect, the Pra Mahanikai,
hold the bowls against their left hips with their left
hands only. But even the reformed Pra Dhamayut
do not by any means obey the strict letter of the
law. Except during the Buddhist Lent, from the
125
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
full moon of July to the full moon of October, it is
not the custom for all the monks to make the daily
pilgrimage to collect their food. Many remain in
their rooms, and their relatives send them in food
by their chilas, and even those who ostensibly
receive their food at the hands of the pious often
throw the contents of their bowls to the dogs on
their return, and themselves partake of a more
appetising meal prepared in the monastery.
The people themselves are not blind to the faults
of the monks. They know, for at one time or
another they have all been monks themselves, but
they know too how hard it is to keep the rule.
Never would they tolerate the flagrant immorality
which is sometimes imputed to the monks, but that
some monks are great humbugs they are willing to
admit. There is a story known by the somewhat
misleading title of "The Honest Monk" which, as
it is entertaining, I will proceed to relate, though I
do not know that it contains a moral. It comes
from an old Siamese source, and I heard it from the
lips of Prince Bijit, the King's brother.
"There was once a virtuous monk who made a
vow that he would walk in a straight line across
the country, turning neither to the right hand nor
to the left. So he set out; but by-and-by he came
to a palm-tree which grew right in his path, and
being unable to turn either to the right hand or to
the left he was obliged to clamber up the tree.
Having arrived at the top he reflected that it
was against his principles to descend, so there he
126
THE YELLOW ROBE
remained. Now it chanced that an elephant driver
was passing by, and seeing the monk sitting in the
top of the palm-tree he called on him to come down,
but the monk would not. Then the elephant driver,
being filled with pity, drove his elephant beneath
the palm and caused it to lift him up in its trunk,
so that he might catch hold of the virtuous monk
and take him down, but the elephant being alarmed
by the rustling of the palm-leaves ran away, and
left the driver clinging to the tree. Anon four
villagers, attracted by his cries, approached and saw
the virtuous monk and the elephant driver sitting
in the top of the palm-tree; so they ran and fetched
a blanket and held it beneath the tree, one stand-
ing at each corner. Then the elephant driver per-
suaded the virtuous monk to jump into the blanket,
but when he alighted in its centre the four corners
of the blanket were drawn together, and the heads
of the four villagers who held it met with such vio-
lence that they were immediately smashed, whilst
the elephant driver, following after, was dashed to
pieces upon the ground. Then the virtuous monk,
reflecting that he had caused the deaths of five
men, bethought how meritorious an act it would
be to cremate those five bodies. Now he had but
small store of money, so, having hidden four of the
bodies, he went and found a charcoal-burner, to
whom he showed the fifth body, and contracted
with him for six salung to supply sufficient charcoal
wherewith to cremate it. A salung is the fourth
part of a tical. Then the charcoal-burner covered
127
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
the body with charcoal and set it alight, and when
naught remained but a heap of ashes the virtuous
monk handed him the six salung and let him go.
Then the virtuous monk fetched one of the remain-
ing bodies, and having covered it with the ashes
he ran swiftly after the charcoal-burner and told
him that the body was still there untouched by
the fire, so the charcoal-burner, wondering much,
returned with a further supply of charcoal and again
cremated the body. But once more when he had
gone on his way, the virtuous monk covered another
body with the ashes, and overtaking the charcoal-
burner told him that the body was not yet consumed.
In this way all the five bodies were cremated for
the price agreed upon for one."
Early each morning the monks assemble in the
bawt and repeat the doxologies. Then some go
to teach in the monastery school, others who are
clever carpenters busy themselves with boat build-
ing or repairs to the temple buildings, and perhaps
the majority do nothing. At midday they take a
second meal, and after this they may touch no
more solid food until the next morning. This
rule, which involves some hardship, is faithfully
observed. The afternoon passes in very much the
same way as the morning. In the evening they
bathe in the river, if the wot is built upon the
bank, and if not there is almost always a pond
within the grounds. The monks may not leave
the precincts of the wot after dark, and so, about
half-past six, one of the boys runs up the steps of
128
THE YELLOW ROBE
the bell tower and tolls the bell to mark the hour,
while all the dogs howl in unison.
During "Lent," from July to October, the time
of the worst rains, when the monks remain in the
wats, the monks assemble once again in the bawt
at evening, and if we look in we shall see the rows
of kneeling yellow figures between the great pil-
lars, while the light of candles, reflected from the
Buddha, shines down upon them, and the sonorous
old Pali chants beat and throb against the black
vault above.
The monks' rooms are clean and neat, and scant-
ily furnished in keeping with their simple life.
Mats are spread on the boarded floor, and in one
corner is a low bedstead. Probably there is a cup-
board on which are a few ornaments, and there
may be a picture on the wall. Somewhere there is
sure to be an image of the Buddha.
From the cupboard the monk produces a tea-pot
and two tiny cups, which he will fill alternately as
fast as his visitor can empty them, and when they
know us well they will show us many treasures.
In one room is an ancient image; another boasts
a silver tea-pot, and again there are carved ivory
fans and chessmen, orange with age. Some mon-
asteries possess large collections of the sacred writ-
ings kept in fine old cabinets of black lacquer gilt.
The doxologies are generally written with a style
on strips of palm-leaf with gilded edges. They are
written in Siamese, but the Cambodian character
is used.
129
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
During the dry season it is the custom for monks
in the village monasteries to make a pilgrimage to
the Prabat mountain (on which is the footprint of
the Buddha), or to some other holy spot. They
carry with them nothing but the iron begging-bowl,
a bag containing a few necessaries, and a large
umbrella. In the heat of the day we may often
see their white umbrellas dotted over the fields, and
converted into little tents by strips of linen hung
all round.
The monks are subject only to the superiors of
their own order, and they have a complete system
of government analogous to that of the temporal
power. The chief dignitaries of the order are
appointed by the King, who is thus the temporal
head of the religion. These dignitaries receive
official titles and may properly be spoken of as
"priests," a term which is incorrectly applied to
the mass of those living in the wats.
Any grave offence is punished by instant expul-
sion, and the offender then comes under the civil
law, which treats him with extreme severity. Lesser
breaches of the rules are atoned for by the per-
formance of small penances, such as sweeping round
the Bo tree or drawing water. Confession is some-
times practised. The penitent goes alone to his
spiritual superior, who, it appears, professes to
absolve him from his sin. The head of a monastery
can himself be absolved by the head of some other
monastery. This absolution from sin may be noticed
as one of the many points in which the principles
130
THE YELLOW ROBE
of Buddhism differ from its practice in Siam. A
discipline which was formerly imposed on a monk
who had recently joined the order was that he
should watch, alone, by the side of a corpse through
the long night. About the hour of midnight, they
say, the corpse stood upright and then lay back
again upon its bier. So was the monk to learn not
to fear the spirits of the dead.
Throughout the year one religious festival follows
hard upon the last, and in their observance they
are all alike. On the morning of a festival the
monks forego the usual round to collect their food,
and the begging-bowls are ranged upon a long low
wall within the temple grounds. Soon after day-
break the people, dressed in their best, throng to
the temple, bearing flat wicker trays on which are
heaped up rice and kap kow, "the usual trimmings,"
in blue china bowls. There are a few men amongst
them, but by far the greater number are women
and children. They walk past the begging-bowls
putting a spoonful of rice and a selection of the
various dainties into each. Then they turn to
the bawt where the monks are already assembled,
and one of the monks repeats the five sins from
which all must abstain, and some additional com-
mandments which are binding on the monks and
which others may voluntarily observe. The monk
pauses at the end of each law, and the people repeat
it after him, resolving, for this day at least, to
observe it.
Then while the monks are eating the people go
131
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
down to the river, and kneeling at the water's edge
they pour the water drop by drop over a leaf, say-
ing, "May this food which we have given to the
use of the holy ones be of benefit to our fathers
and mothers, and all of our relatives who have
passed away." This is doubtless connected with
the custom of pouring water on the ground. In
this curious custom we again see the natural long-
ing of the people proving stronger than those
teachings of their religion which are founded upon
pure reason. So too will a man who has shown
great charity, or built a splendid pagoda, some-
times desire to share the merit of his act with one
who is dear to him, and there are stories of those
who have desired that all the merit which they
have made during their lifetime may be placed,
not to their own credit, but to the advancement of
the human race. 1 The strict Buddhist would say
that such a one would, in spite of himself, advance
still farther on the path, by reason of the spirit in
which his charity was performed, but not by all
his prayers could he help his weaker brethren along.
There is no vicarious sacrifice in Buddhism.
To return to the festival, the remainder of the day
is spent in merry-making and, if it be the Siamese
New Year (Kroot T'hai), in gambling, for at this
season, as at the Roman Saturnalia (in December),
the gambling laws are relaxed, and every one may
set up his roulette table or bring out his pack of
cards.
1 So also the Bodhisats, see p. 112, and novices, see p. 123.
132
THE YELLOW ROBE
At the festival of Songkran, which marks the
beginning of the old Siamese solar year, it is the
custom to bathe the images of the Buddha and also
the monks and old people. The young folk make
this an occasion for throwing water over each other
amidst much fun and laughter.
One of the prettiest festivals is that of Kaw Pra
Sai, when the people bring fresh sand to strew
upon the ground within the temple precincts. Under
the leafy trees the people are gathered in their bright-
est dresses. The girls in beautiful shot silk panungs,
and gaily coloured scarves about their breasts;
the children with sweet-scented wreaths around
their carefully tended top-knots. There they all
build little sand castles, laughing and chattering
and vying with each other in tasteful arrangement
and decoration. One girl will make a large cone in
the centre, surrounded by many smaller ones, all
neatly turned out of a mould, and the whole will be
surrounded by a little wall. In each she sticks a tiny
paper flag, and strips of coloured paper are wound
round them so that when the ground is covered with
hundreds of these little cones the effect is very
pretty. The scarlet blossoms of "the flame of the
forest" strew the fresh sand; here and there a
bundle of incense sticks smokes lazily, and in the
shadows little candles are twinkling. On one side
is set a large bowl with a notched staff rising from
the centre. Here are deposited small offerings of
money which are devoted to buying sand. In the
old days, they say, when men sinned, all the fish and
133
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
other inhabitants of the water came to the river's
edge, and each carried away a grain of sand, and
not till every grain was removed was the stain of
that sin purged away. So now they look upon these
gifts as having a special significance, and as an
atonement for some particular sin. A poor old man
stops for a moment, and reverently raising his joined
hands places a few atts in the bowl. Then a young
girl comes forward and sticks a piece of silver in the
staff, already ornamented with many such. She
looks so pretty and so pensive kneeling there that
one thinks surely her sins cannot be great.
During the T'hot Khatin holidays the people make
gifts of cloth for the monks' robes. Long ago when
the teachings of the Buddha were fresh in men's
minds, the monks wore robes made only of such stray
pieces of cloth as they could pick up and piece
together. In memory of this, certain pious people
labour to make a robe during the course of a single
day and night, in a patchwork pattern called the
Khatina pattern. But many of the robes presented
at this season are of silk, and the old simplicity no
longer exists.
The King himself makes very large presents and
visits very many of the wots. On one day he passes
in a glittering procession through the streets, borne
high in a palanquin, and preceded by a double
row of lie tors bearing fasces. Nothing is in greater
contrast to Western ideas than the perfect silence
with which the great multitudes of spectators watch
the passing of their King, for in this way they show
134
THE YELLOW ROBE
their deep respect. But the most gorgeous pageant
is when the King goes by water in the great dragon
barge. This barge is one hundred and fifty feet in
length, and eleven feet wide, cut out of a single
trunk and richly carved. In the centre there is a
canopy of cloth of gold, and stem and prow curve
high out of the water. The barge is propelled by
sixty paddlers dressed in ancient style, with red
jackets, and caps provided with flaps which cover
their necks. They keep perfect time, and at the
finish of the stroke they toss their paddles and a
flash of liquid gold runs along the threescore lifted
blades. For a few seconds they hold them so,
giving a peculiar " jodel," and then another powerful
sweep sends the great barge on her way. After
her come many others, but none so splendid as the
King's.
In the cool December nights the great annual
fair at Pu Kao T'hong takes place. Around the foot
of the Golden Mount springs up a narrow circular
lane of stalls, and through it till the small hours
of the morning moves a dense throng, all intent on
having a merry time. Yet the quiet and orderliness
of the crowds is remarkable. A small rowdy element
there may be, but they are powerless to mar the
general good fellowship, for by a wise police regu-
lation all sticks must be left at the gate, and it is
illegal in Bangkok to carry knives or fire-arms.
Almost every stall is provided with some device for
gambling, and at the back the prizes are ranged
in tempting order. We find that we must stake
135
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
nearly the full value of an article before we are
allowed to play for it, but the little girls who stand
behind the stalls are so fascinating that we readily
submit to this robbery; and when we come away
with our arms full of toys a crowd of children will
follow us until we have given them all away.
When tired of this innocent gambling we may
visit the theatres and shadow pantomimes. The
fun goes on without a pause, but all the while little
knots of men and women detach themselves from
the merry-makers and climb the long stair, to place
their lighted candles amongst the hundred others
that are twinkling before the shrine on the summit
of the mount.
Then there is the more aristocratic fair at the new
Royal wot. Here we may be served with tea by
the fair hands of a little princess, who enjoys the
fun of emptying our pockets fully as much as her
humbler sisters.
Twice a year all the Government officials must
repair to the palace, and drink the water of alle-
giance. This, of course, does not apply to Euro-
peans in the Government service. Swords have been
dipped in the water, and the act of drinking signi-
fies that should they prove unfaithful to the King
the sword shall be their portion.
The King's birthday is celebrated for three days,
during which there is great rivalry amongst the
people as to who shall provide the gayest display
of flags and Chinese lanterns. At night the streets
are a blaze of brightness, and fairy palaces of light
136
THE YELLOW ROBE
arise on every side. In all their decorations they
show a tastefulness which few Western nations have
reached, and the scene on the river when the illu-
minations are reflected in the dark water can scarcely
be equalled in any other country.
Certain festivals are of Brahminical origin, and
in them white-robed Brahmin priests still take part.
Such are the festival of ploughing, which marks the
time of sowing seed, and the quaint swinging fes-
tival, which corresponds to our harvest thanksgiving.
From a huge frame one hundred feet in height,
standing near the centre of the town, a plank is
suspended, and at a little distance before it is a pole
to which is tied a bag containing coins. A crew of
four men mount to the plank, on which they kneel,
and set it swinging lengthwise, till the leader can
catch the bag of coins in his teeth.
Of Brahminical origin, too, is the beautiful fes-
tival, of Loy Krat'hong, when at night all the people
set floating down the river little rafts, cleverly made
out of leaves, and bearing lights.
In the life of every Siamese there are certain
epochs which I must briefly notice. We shall find
that they are generally marked by observances of
a religious, or semi-religious, character. When a
child is born the mother is often kept in one room
for forty days, close to a hot fire. This is to drive
out the evil humours from her body, but it not
unfrequently drives out the life as well, and with
it that of her new-born babe. The custom, which
is also observed by the Burmans, is very ancient,
137
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
but it is now fast dying out. If the child survives
this ordeal of his early youth he is not troubled any
more until the day of top-knot cutting is reached,
in his ninth, eleventh, or thirteenth year.
Amongst the Brahmins there were anciently ten
rites: the rite of name giving, the rite of eating the
first rice, the rite of teaching the first steps, and so
on. Of these the Burmans have kept the rite of
ear boring, and the Siamese that of cutting the top-
knot. It is celebrated with elaborate ritual in which
Buddhist monks always take a prominent part. As
I have already mentioned, the rite is not universally
observed in the case of boys, but in the lives of the
girls it forms, perhaps, the most important event,
and is never omitted.
About this tonsure ceremony books have been
written, and those who would know the details
of the ordeal which a high-born damsel has to
undergo may study them with profit. It is not for
them that I record here my recollection of a top-
knot cutting. It was in a little village where I
had my camp, together with a friend, engaged like
myself in survey work. We were on excellent terms
with our neighbours, and every evening a semicircle
of children would sit before our tent, listening with
round-eyed wonder to the strange songs which pro-
ceeded from our gramophone. Three of our little
friends, all girls, were to have their top-knots cut,
and for two days before the event there was a great
making of cakes in preparation for the expected
guests. On the evening before the actual ceremony
138
THE YELLOW ROBE
we were asked up into the house, which was crowded
with relatives and friends. On a slightly raised
dais, a little apart, sat five monks droning out texts,
the end of each verse being marked by the father of
the girls, beating on a gong. Grovelling on their
knees and elbows before the monks were the little
girls themselves, and very tired they were before
it was all over. They were dressed in their best,
with antique silk shawls woven with silver thrown
over them, and the precious top-knots transfixed
with gold skewers; but not even this finery, nor
the solemnity of the occasion, could prevent them
from turning their heads and grinning over their
shoulders a friendly greeting to us. Long before
they were allowed to get up we were conducted
into another room, to partake of Siamese sweets.
At length the girls were released from their most
uncomfortable position, and after they had been
made to stand in a row before us and make a
little bob by way of curtsey, they were allowed
to sit down and chat, only one of them was con-
tinually getting into trouble for not sitting elegantly
before the company.
They said that they were very tired, but scorned
our suggestion that they had better go to bed, as
they meant to sit up and watch the lakhon (theatri-
cal performance) which had been hired from Bang-
kok for the occasion. It was held under an attap
roof, from which hung a few smoky lamps, casting
occasional gleams of light on the performers and
audience. At one end a large soda-water case,
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
borrowed from our camp, served as a dais, and at
the other end squatted the band. Behind the dais
was the green-room, to which my Siamese boy early
retired, in order to lend the weight of his experi-
ence to the proceedings. The lakhon was not a very
good one; the band was discordant and the big drum
intolerable; but to these simple villagers every-
thing was wonderful. The leading lady, with her
whited face and tinsel head-dress, was a dream of
beauty, and when she reclined upon the case of
soda-water, the three little maidens fingered all her
finery, regardless of the performance. Meanwhile
the less favoured portion of the audience crowded
nearer and nearer till the actors scarce had room to
move, roaring with laughter at the clown's jokes,
not one of which ran any risk of being lost for want
of repetition. The gramophone proved a success-
ful counter attraction, and the children of our village
were delighted to show off their knowledge of its
mechanism to those who had come in from the
surrounding country for the occasion.
Very early the next morning the monks were
in their place again. They held a white thread
which passed around the three children, forming a
circle which no evil spirits could break. The girls
were now in very plain attire, the top-knots un-
done and bound with wisps of grass, and in their
hands they held powerful charms, written upon
dried strips of palm-leaf. Very soon the head
monk took a pair of scissors and snipped off the
locks. Then the father and uncles entered the
140
THE YELLOW ROBE
magic circle and shaved off the remaining hair,
in which operation they were assisted by the monk
pouring on water. When their heads were as bald
as billiard balls the little girls sat outside, while
first the monks, then the father and mother, then
the grandparents, and finally the other relatives
and the distinguished visitors, poured water over
them till the poor little things were shivering with
cold. After this was over they retired and changed
their wet things for very gorgeous dresses, and
when they came out once more they were loaded
with all the family jewels. Then the photogra-
pher was confronted with group after group, begin-
ning with the heroines of the occasion and proceeding
with all the members of the family in turn, and the
old grandfather would have his joke with the young
people, and every one was very merry. Had not
the stock of plates run out the whole assemblage
would have had their portraits taken, for although
the country folk are often shy, at first, of standing
before the camera, they only want some one to give
them a lead to be eager to do so. In the afternoon
all the friends of the family brought small presents
of money, and a list of the amounts was carefully
kept, because in the event of a similar festivity
occurring in another family the exact sum that
they had given must be returned just as we give
wedding presents. Finally everybody took pieces
of white string and tied them round the girls'
wrists, with a blessing.
After the top-knot has been cut the child is legally
141
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
of a marriageable age. It is unusual for girls to
marry before the age of sixteen, or for boys until
they are twenty, but it is still more unusual for
them not to marry at all. A marriage is often in
the nature of a runaway match, a most informal
proceeding altogether. In the case of a more regu-
larly conducted affair it is not customary to consult
the young lady's wishes. The suitor must employ
a go-between, who will settle with the girl's parents
the amount of money which he is to provide to
build a house for his bride, and how much is to go
to the parents themselves as "the price of the
mother's milk." Then if everything is happily
arranged the marriage is celebrated with much
feasting and jollity Monks are invited to the feast
and to receive presents, because this is a meri-
torious action and must bring good fortune; but
there is no religious ceremony.
So, too monks are called to the bedside of the
dying, that by their mere presence all evil spirits
may be kept away.
The cremation of the dead is celebrated with all
the pomp that the means of the relatives will allow.
The body is often subjected to a curious process, a
mixture of mercury and honey being poured through
it, and thus prepared it is sometimes kept for years
before the actual cremation takes place. The poorer
classes cannot afford this, and if the body is not
cremated immediately after death it is, in their case,
buried in the ground, to be afterwards exhumed
and burnt.
142
THE YELLOW ROBE
The actual ceremony of cremation usually lasts
three days. The coffin is placed in a special build-
ing attached to the temple, and there the monks
come and read from a sacred book, which describes
the joys of the various heavens, and the pains of
hell. Then they pray for merit, that the deceased
may be enabled to enter heaven, and while they
pray they hold a ribbon whose end enters the coffin,
and along which the holy influences are supposed to
pass.
But these rites occupy but little time. Most of
the day is spent in feasting, watching theatrical
performances, and playing innumerable games of
chance. On the evening of the third day the coffin is
borne out, and placed under a pointed roof (maradop)
which is supported by four tall posts inclining
inward in the form of a pyramid. Here the most
distinguished person present sets alight the pyre.
In the case of a Royal cremation everything is
on the most lavish scale. Gorgeous spectacles are
provided by day, and magnificent displays of fire-
works by night. Enormous numbers of the monks
receive presents, and limes containing coins are
freely scattered amongst the people. These repre-
sent the fruit of the tree which gratifies all desires,
and grows in the paradise of Indra.
But the cremation that I remember best was of
a little boy, a child, in a monastery far up country.
It was dark when I arrived, but the sola was bril-
liantly illuminated, and sitting round mats on the
floor with packs of cards were groups of eager players
143
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
and interested spectators. The open-air theatre
was thronged with villagers who marked their
approval of the clown's antics by loud guffaws,
while the fireworks banged and rockets soared
above the palms. And apart from all this, near the
river and all unheeded, rested the little coffin, half
consumed and burning with a wan, fitful flame.
144
CHAPTER VI
THE PEES AND CHARMS
"To respect spiritual beings but to keep aloof from them may be called
wisdom." Saying of CONFUCIUS.
OFTEN as you go through the gardens or
amongst the trees which fringe the river
side, you will see a little house, raised up
upon a pole. These have nothing to do with Bud-
dhism. Some of them are erected as dwelling-places
for the Taywadahs, the beautiful spirits who watch
over big trees. The Siamese are very averse to cutting
down a tree lest it should harbour a Taywadah, and
none but the lowest will undertake this task. Should
they destroy a tree in which a Taywadah dwelt they
would suffer the greatest misfortunes, but by build-
ing him a house and showing him respect they gain
his powerful favour. But by far the greater number
of the little houses are placed there for a very differ-
ent reason. The spirits of the dead the Pees
inhabit the woods and streams. The water Pees are
so malevolent that they sometimes eat men, whilst
their sylvan brethren will suddenly grimace at you
through the foliage, or come towards you tearing
their breasts apart. This is unpleasant, and in
order that you may not see them it is best to set up
a little house, and to place in it offerings of flowers
145
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
and dolls, and to scatter rice before it on the ground.
TLis will propitiate the Pees, and they will leave you
alone. Sometimes chickens are sacrificed to the
Tees, in violation of the Buddhist commandment to
take no life. The spirits of evil-doers -F the Pee
Pret are terrible to behold. They are taller than
palm-trees, and their mouths are so small that they
can never satisfy the hunger which gnaws at them
continually. The Pee Pret are not at all well dis-
posed towards men, but as a rule the ordinary Pees
will do no harm, only the Siamese do not want to
see them. Animals can often see Pees when men are
unable to do so, and when at night all the dogs of
the village howl together it is because a Pee is
passing by.
When a corpse is being removed from a house
to the place where it is to be cremated, it is .very
often carried through a hole in the wall, lest the
Pee should refuse to pass by the door, and remain
behind. If a man dies of cholera he must not be
cremated but buried, and in all cases of sudden
death the corpse must remain buried for some time
before it can be cremated. Were the body to be
immediately destroyed by cremation the Pee would
return to its former dwelling-place. It would long
to associate with its former relatives and they would
all die. Whenever a man is thus buried, a Fee's
house is placed near his grave, and in the house we
generally find a clay image of a buffalo. This
represents the fierce Torapee who fought with the
no less terrible Pali, so that the fight raged over all
146
THE PEES AND CHARMS
the earth even to the confines of Mount Mem before
Torapee was overcome. The purpose of the image
is to scare the other Pees away, so that the Pee of
the man who is buried there may not be disturbed;
but some say that the Pees are not afraid of Tora-
pee, and that he is only placed there for them to
ride upon.
Amongst the Laos there is a superstition that
should a man sleep in a new house, other than he
for whom it is intended, the house will be occupied
by a Pee.
How prevalent the belief in Pees is may be seen
in the course of half-an-hour's drive through the
streets of Bangkok. At frequent intervals we shall
pass a Chinese carpenter's shop, piled high with the
little houses. Even the monks and men of good
education are firmly convinced of their existence.
It is rather difficult to explain to those who are
ignorant of the occult teaching of the East what
the learned amongst them really believe the Pee
to be. It is not that part of man which I have
before called the Soul that part which subsists
through incarnation after incarnation but it is that
which the Theosophists call an Astral body. This,
they say, is simply the seat of man's lower nature.
To it his animal passions and emotions may be
communicated, whilst only that which goes deep
into his intellectual nature is impressed upon the
Soul. 1 The Pee may persist for a time after death,
1 Lectures on the Study of the Bhagavadgita, by T. Subbarao Garu. Pub-
lished by the Theosophical Society.
147
1
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
but gradually as the impulse which it received dur-
ing life becomes exhausted, its component parts are
scattered abroad.
Opposed to the fundamental principles of Bud-
dhism is a belief in charms, yet there is scarcely
a Siamese man or woman who does not possess a
charm of some sort. The monks may not actually
wear them, but they believe in them none the less,
and carefully preserve them till such time as they
leave the monastery. Much more, they violate one
of the most stringent rules of their order, which
enjoins them to have nothing to do with the super-
natural nor to arrogate to themselves any ex-
traordinary powers, for they themselves make the
charms, the efficiency of the charm depending on
the sanctity of the maker and not at all on the
devoutness of the wearer.
In the case of men charms are worn to prevent
knives or bullets from wounding them, and women
wear charms as a protection against sickness, and
to make men love them. Even though a man is
wearing a charm he can still be wounded by a
woman, for against the opposite sex his charm is
powerless, and if a woman touches a man's charm
it loses its efficiency altogether. The charms worn
by men are very often small images of the Buddha,
carried in a little bag hung round the neck. The
images are sometimes made of bronze, and their
power is proportionate to their antiquity. Others
are made of a powdered chalky clay, made into a
paste with lustral water. This is water that has
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THE PEES AND CHARMS
been placed before the image of the Buddha in a
bawt, and in which candles from before the Buddha
have been extinguished. It then possesses great
virtues; the man who lies sick drinks it and soldiers
going forth to battle are sprinkled with it. At the
time of the troubles with France, in 1893, hundreds
of little images were made in moulds at a Bangkok
temple and given to the soldiers as charms. Some-
times the charm is actually let into the flesh, which
soon grows over it and encloses it.
Another form of charm is a thin silver plate,
about an inch square. On this the monks scratch
a curious pattern and the initials, in Cambodian
characters, of the five Buddhas of this world cycle.
The silver plate is then rolled into a little tube,
threaded on a string, and bound round the man's
arm. In the case of a child it is generally hung
round his neck. Sometimes short sentences are
written on the plates: "Let no bullet harm the
wearer; let no knife wound the bearer." Often
two of the little tubes are threaded on the string,
and between them is a piece of the leg-bone of a
goose, which in some way is lucky.
Other charms which are worn, or carried in the
waist cloth, are a bullet with which an animal has
been shot, bullets engraved with mystic symbols,
a tiger carved out of a tiger's tooth, which will
preserve the wearer from being bitten, and pieces
of calico on which are drawn magic squares.
Snakes will flee from a man who carries a certain
seed that has a claw-like sprout. A very powerful
149
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
charm is a black bean on which is cut the figure
of Buddha, seated, and holding his hands before
his eyes. These charms are said to be found in
the tops of trees, where they are left by angels.
In Japan we find the same idea of the closed eyes
in the beneficent monkey, who covers his eyes that
he may see no evil.
The custom of tattooing is not universal, as it is
amongst the men in Burma, but amongst the lower
class Siamese there are few who do not bear curious
devices somewhere about their bodies. Most of the
tattooing is merely for ornament, but charms are
also tattooed. A favourite tattooed charm is a
certain Cambodian character which is made to
form the helix of a "Unalom" scroll. The device
suggests the form of a Buddha in the attitude of
contemplation. It is often seen upon the points of
the shoulders, or on the breast or wrist, and some-
times it is tattooed upon the head. The tattooing
is done by a monk, who then blows upon the place,
repeating appropriate formulae.
It is said that the hair between the Buddha's
eyebrows grew in the shape of a "Unalom" scroll.
During the tonsure ceremony a monk traces the
scroll with his finger between the child's eyebrows.
For a boy the scroll is made right-handed and for
a girl it is made left-handed.
Women do not wear images of the Buddha as
charms. I could never find out why this was, but
perhaps the explanation of my Siamese boy is the
correct one. He thought that they would soon
150
THE PEES AND CHARMS
grow tired of them and throw them away. A girl
must have something to wear which is at the same
time an ornament, so she has many of the little
silver tubes tied round her wrist in the form of a
bracelet. Her charms are engraved differently from
those of the men. Hers say, "Keep all sickness
from me" and "May a man love me." And when
she is married she will wear a charm round her
neck, in the hope that she may bear a child. To
this she soon adds another, that she may be safely
delivered, and when the child is born she adds one
more, that he may grow up strong and healthy;
and so old women have strings and strings of the
little tubes hung about them. Many of the tubes
in these necklaces are as much as two or three
inches long, some of silver and some of copper.
Men will tell you of many instances when their
lives have been saved by charms, guns failing to go
off when pointed at them and the like. Still, though
the wearing of charms is universal, cases of wounding
are also common. Then, they say, the wounded
man cannot have been wearing a real charm; it must
have been some common little image after all, or
perhaps the monk who made it forgot to ask that it
might prove effectual. If you have a charm it is
very important to know whether it will really pro-
tect you or not. Some monks, not all by any means,
can tell you this. I was once privileged to witness
a test applied to a charm of my own, which had been
given to me by a monk with whom I was very
friendly. It was in a monk's room where I had been
151
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drinking tea with two or three of the monks, and the
little chilas were there as well, waiting upon us.
One of the monks took the charm, and kneeling
down raised his joined hands to his forehead, and
asked that if this were a true charm a sign might be
given. Then, still kneeling, he held the charm in
his clenched hand, outstretched to its fullest extent.
Presently his arm was violently agitated, he caught
his breath, and his face was contorted as I had once
seen a water diviner's in England. Then he shuffled
along on his knees, the half -fearful bystanders has-
tily making way for him, though they seemed moved
more to amusement than awe, and the laughter of
their young pupils was unrestrained. Finally the
monk fell over on one side, and when he had recov-
ered he declared that the charm was exceedingly
powerful. He said that a mighty wind had come
down upon him. He was unwilling to undertake
another test as he felt exhausted, and moreover he
was afraid of hurting himself during the paroxysm.
Horoscopes are sometimes cast in Siam, and the
monks are frequently consulted for lucky days, while
events of great importance are only undertaken on
days fixed by Brahmin astrologers.
When a ceremony such as a hair-cutting is
going on, the house, or the room in which the actual
ceremony is taking place, will be surrounded by a
white thread. This is to prevent any evil influence
from entering. Similarly some men have a string
tied round the wrist to keep the Pees away, and the
Mons used to wear white fillets bound about their
152
THE PEES AND CHARMS
heads in battle. The custom originated in the tabu
which was practised amongst the aboriginal inhab-
itants of Cambodia. It was indicated by some such
visible sign as the white thread, and its purpose was
to forbid strangers from entering a village which
was suffering from an epidemic or celebrating some
festival. Any person who broke the tabu was liable
to very severe penalties, or even to be enslaved.
After the tonsure ceremony the hair is hung upon
trees in the jungle, or sometimes it is set adrift
in a leaf down the river, the idea being that with
it is borne away all impurity. It would be very
unlucky if any of it were to fall into the hands of
an ill-wisher to the child, for, if so, all that he
wished might befall the child would surely come to
pass.
A form of blessing practised after the hair-cutting
is called Wien Tieng. The child sits in the centre
of a room, and the relatives and guests sit in a circle
around it. They have three small fans of copper or
silver, and on the back of each fan are stuck three
lighted tapers. The fans are passed from hand to
hand round the circle, and the smoke is wafted
towards the child. I have seen the same ceremony
performed towards a portrait of the King. The fans
had then to be passed completely round the circle
twenty-one times, but for an ordinary subject they
make only five circuits.
The most revolting superstition is one firmly
believed in by the lower classes. The Cambodians,
they say, are able to manufacture a pill and throw it
153
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
into the body of a man, when it will swell to a con-
siderable size, perhaps a foot in diameter, and so
cause his death. When the victim is cremated this
swollen pill will be left, and in proof of this it may be
seen when the rest of the body has been burnt. It is
not unknown, even in Bangkok, for men to eat small
portions of this unconsumed flesh, which they think
renders them invulnerable, and to overcome their
repugnance they first drink large quantities of
spirits.
In a former chapter I have spoken of the carved
figures before the gates of the temples. The guar-
dian angels of the gates of the city, and of the
palace, were far more terrible than these, for when
a new gate was being erected soldiers lay in wait,
and seizing the first four persons who passed that
way buried them alive beneath the gate-posts. 1 An
instance of this is said to have occurred during the
reign of the present King's father, but the authority
for the statement is not good.
The following custom related by Father Tachard
is interesting because very similar to one which
still prevails in England. 2 "They" (the Siamese)
"say, that in Hell there are Angels who administer
Justice, and take care to mark exactly all the bad
Actions of Men, examine them after their Death
and with extream severity punish them for the
same. They have a ridiculous imagination as to
the Judgment that then passes; they are perswaded
that the first of these Judges whom they call Pra-
1 Alabaster, op. tit. p. 212. * Op. tit. p. 278,
154
THE PEES AND CHARMS
yomppaban, hath a Book, wherein the Life of every
particular man is registered, that he continually
reads it over, and that when he comes to the Page
which contains the History of that Man, he never
fails to sneeze. "
"Therefore it is, say they, that we sneeze upon
Earth, and thence proceeds the Custom they have of
wishing a happy and long Life to all that sneeze."
155
CHAPTER VII
SIAMESE ART
"Do not imitate the china cup which, once broken, cannot be reoomposed;
But follow the example of Samrit bronze which, even when shattered,
is still useful."
Maxim of PRA RUANG.
IT must, I think, be admitted that the Siamese
are an artistic people. Of their tastefulness I
have already spoken, and a sense of beauty is
very general amongst them. Yet they have pro-
duced very little that is of lasting merit, and of that
little there is scarce any that has not been borrowed
from other nations. Small as their achievements
have been in this direction, they are likely to be still
less in future, for the people seem to have lost what
little skill they once possessed, and there is now
practically no native art or manufacture.
In the temples very much of the decoration is
purely Chinese, due directly to the Chinese popula-
tion. The art which the Siamese may claim as
their own owes its origin to India, from whence it
was derived either directly or through the Cam-
bodians. Thus all that is good in their architecture
came from Cambodia, but never did the Siamese
equal their old masters. The earliest monuments
in northern Siam were built of blocks of laterite.
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SIAMESE ART
In the eleventh century A.D., that is to say when the
ancestors of the Siamese were firmly established in
that part of the country, sandstone was employed
to form the door-posts and lintels, and for carved
images, but in the twelfth century their architecture
was already in its decadence, and stone gave way
to brick. 1 From that time brick and plaster pre-
vailed, and together with wood they are now the
only materials employed in Siam. Nor will the
modern bricks bear comparison with the fine, close-
grained bricks of the ancient structures, and the
crumbling cement of to-day is but a poor substitute
for that used in the old temples at Lopburi, where
we see it moulded into flowing forms that have set
harder than granite. When brick came into general
use wood was introduced in place of the sandstone
posts and lintels. The durability of the buildings
suffered accordingly, but by the extended use of
wood a great impetus was given to the art of
wood-carving. 2 In the north where wood is plenti-
ful this art naturally progressed more than in the
south. Perhaps the finest example of wood-carv-
ing still remaining is the great door of the wihan at
Wat Sutat in Bangkok, which was brought from
Sukot'hai and dates from the fourteenth or fif-
teenth century. 2 As in most of their carvings,
the figures and foliage are deeply undercut, and
the whole door is richly gilt.
The Siamese no longer carve their doors, but the
panels are covered with black lacquer, on which are
1 Gerini, op. cit. p. 218. * Ibid. p. 226.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
gilded angels and conventional designs. Another
very effective form of decoration is in mother-of-
pearl, inlaid in the lacquer while it is in a soft
state. Wooden bowls are often decorated with this
inlaid work, and mica and coloured glass are also
inlaid in the same way.
From Chieng-Mai comes a very distinctive lac-
quer ware. Boxes and other articles are made of
woven strips of bamboo, and coated with bone ash
made into a paste with wood oil. Upon this a
second coating of wood oil and cinnabar is applied,
and allowed to harden, forming a smooth vermilion
surface. The pattern is engraved and filled in with
black varnish, and the whole is then brought to a
high polish.
The prisoners in the gaol at Prapratom make
small baskets and trays of a particular variety of
fine grass, which they plait in a very dainty way.
I have seen no specimens of this work from any
other part of the country. ]
At Sawankalok the remains of extensive potteries
have been found, consisting of a double row of
mounds extending for about four miles, in which
kilns have become embedded together with quan-
tities of broken pots. These potteries produced
a greyish celadon ware of several shades, varying
from coarse pottery to fine stoneware or rough
porcelain. The glazed crackled ware of the Chinese
Sung Dynasty was also imitated. Tradition assigns
the kilns to Pra Ruang, who brought five hundred
artificers from China, and the industry lasted from
158
SIAMESE ART
the middle of the twelfth to the beginning of the six-
teenth century. The paste which formed the base
of the crackled ware is excessively hard. The glaze
varied in colour from dark brown to greenish
grey; it is very thick, and of extreme tenacity, but
it was carelessly applied, and two or three pots often
stuck together in the firing. In a bowl in the
author's possession the glaze has run down over
the surface and collected into great drops round the
lower edge. The pots were generally ornamented
on a wheel, by rings traced round the outside with
the finger, but sometimes lines were drawn verti-
cally all round the outsides with a blunt tool or the
thumb nail. The insides of the pots also show
incised ornamentation. A fine example in the Brit-
ish Museum has a bold leaf pattern embossed upon
the outside. More rarely painted decoration was
employed.
Sawankalok is the only place in Siam where
suitable clay was found; so this Sawankalok china
is the only china that was ever made in Siam. In
the eighteenth century, and early part of the nine-
teenth, much porcelain was made in China and
decorated in Siam, and much was made entirely in
China for the Siamese market. The most typical
are the enamelled bowls and jars, decorated with
the figures of divinities Taypanom and Norasing
with a background of conventionalised flames.
Other bowls were covered with a formal diaper of
flowers in bright enamels upon a gilded ground,
and some fruit dishes have centres of a very deep
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
and beautiful blue. Those pieces which were deco-
rated in Siam generally show some flaws and less
perfect workmanship than those which were made
entirely in China. The Siamese still make large
jars, holding from fifteen to twenty gallons, of
unglazed earthenware. The black or white Chieng-
Mai pottery is covered with incised ornament of
a character strongly resembling that found on some
very early British pottery. In the manufacture of
coloured tiles for the roofs of their temple buildings
the Siamese show great proficiency.
The frescoes in the temples are usually very
badly executed, but an exception must be made in
favour of those at Wat Chang in Bangkok. From
polished floor to sloping rafters the walls are com-
pletely covered with subjects minutely drawn, with
a total lack of perspective, but with colouring of
extraordinary brilliancy, rivalling that of a Chinese
painting on rice paper. Whenever the figure of
the Buddha appears his skin is of gold, and for this
gold leaf is always employed. Gilding is, indeed,
an art which the Siamese thoroughly understand.
A large proportion of the gold leaf which they use
so freely is imported, but some is made by Chinese
workmen in Bangkok.
The oldest images of the Buddha were carved in
stone, sometimes in several pieces carefully fitted
together. Sandstone was the material generally
employed, but small images were also made of
quartz, alabaster, and jade. The most famous image
of all is the "Emerald Buddha," which, according
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to tradition, fell from heaven into the Laos country
four hundred years ago, and with which the fortunes
of Siam are indissolubly bound up. It was of
terrible omen for the Siamese when, on the tenth
anniversary of the coming of the French in 1893,
a building in the Royal temple, near that in which
the image is now kept, took fire and was partially
destroyed. The "Emerald Buddha" was removed
to the palace for safety, and replaced some days later
with great pomp. The image is about eighteen inches
in height, and, though carved not out of emerald but
of deep green jade or jasper, it is of priceless value.
At certain seasons it is robed in vestments of pure
gold, and many other images in this temple are
made of gold and blaze with precious stones.
The art of casting in bronze was known to the
Siamese from very early times, and in the thirteenth
century A.D. images of considerable size were made
in this way. 1 Then, as now, the method employed
was that known as the cire perdue process. This
method was probably in vogue in ancient Greece,
and it has been revived in Europe by some modern
sculptors. The image is roughly moulded in clay
which is then covered with a layer of wax, of the
thickness which it is desired that the metal shall be.
The wax is very carefully modelled, and when the
finishing touches have been given it is in its turn
covered< with fine clay, in a semi-fluid condition,
which takes a perfect impression of the wax. The
image is then baked over a slow fire, and as the
1 Gerini, op. cit. p. 225.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
wax melts it runs out through suitable openings
made for the purpose, and it is collected to use
again. The core and the outer shell of clay are
left with a hollow annular space between, and into
this the molten metal is poured. The image is
allowed to cool, and then the outer clay is broken
off, but the core, burnt to a hard brick, remains
encased in metal. Large images are cast in several
pieces and afterwards fitted together. The actual
process of casting is often performed with great
ceremony, and gold rings and jewels are thrown
into the melting-pot. The most colossal images
of all are built of brick and plaster, and cheap
images are made of wood.
Whether the image is carved in wood or in stone,
or whether it is built of brick or cast in bronze, it
is almost invariably covered with a smooth coating
of black lacquer, and upon this gold leaf is spread,
whilst the eyes are often inserted in mother-of-pearl.
Only when the image is made of some valuable
material is this lacquering and gilding omitted.
Images made of the finer alloys are generally pol-
ished, a process more expensive than gilding. These
fine alloys are of almost infinite variety, but most
of them contain a large proportion of silver. Occa-
sionally images are seen in which two different alloys
have been used to form the body and the robe.
In the modelling of the images little artistic skill
is shown. It must be remembered that the back
"flat as a golden plank," the arms "round, smooth,
and free from irregularities or veins as a well-made
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SIAMESE ART
candle," the toes and fingers long, tapering, and all
of equal length, the ankle rising from the centre of
the foot, and so jointed that the whole body can
turn about it as upon a pivot, and many other
peculiarities were all considered the marks of a
Grand Being, and so they were faithfully repro-
duced. 1 Yet as the artists developed a sense of
beauty more in accordance with our own ideas, the
traditional form of the images became modified,
and some there are which are very fairly true to
nature. The best period lasted from the thirteenth
until the seventeenth century A.D. Small bronze
images dating from this time and representing the
Buddha in the attitude of contemplation are very
often of the type known as Katamat Pet, that is,
with the legs so crossed that the upturned soles of
both feet are visible. The pedestal upon which the
Buddha sits is ornamented with a lotus petal design,
and the strap of the robe which hangs over the
left shoulder does not come below the breast. The
modelling of arms and hands is very graceful and
some heads are really fine.
In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries many
objects besides images were cast in bronze, and in
some the ornamentation is chased. The temple
bells are heavy castings with bands of floral decora-
tion, suspended from the hook by a highly orna-
mented shackle, but the deep-toned gongs which
are common throughout Siam were hammered into
shape.
1 Alabaster, op. cit. p. 113 et seq.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
The Shan war drums were made of cast bronze
and ornamented at four equidistant points with
frogs. The number of frogs superimposed at each
point indicated the rank of the man to whom the
drum belonged.
The old currency consisted of bullet-shaped silver
coins with a distinguishing mark of the reign to
which they belonged stamped upon them. The
bullet ticals were in circulation up to 1905, side
by side with the new flat coins, but they have
now been withdrawn. The bullet-shaped salungs
(\ tical) and fuang (J tical) have been longer out
of use, and the flat coins which have replaced them
are generally bent to facilitate their collection by
the croupiers at the gambling-houses. An attempt
was once made to create a gold coinage, but these
coins are now very rare and are only to be seen
in collections. For small change cowries were
originally used, but copper tokens (alts) of a value
of irr tical have now taken their place. From the
north come some very interesting old coins of silver
and copper alloy, shaped like oyster shells. They
formed no part of the actual currency, but were
used in payment of revenue taxes.
Iron was formerly worked by the natives in many
parts of the country, and its use was probably
known to the ancestors of the Siamese long before
they migrated from the south-west provinces of
China. Colonel Gerini mentions a temple in old
Sukot'hai, dating from the thirteenth century A.D.,
built of square blocks of sandstone carefully fitted
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SIAMESE ART
and clamped inside with iron. Iron was used for
the blades of swords and the heads of spears, though
as the iron was smelted over a charcoal fire it may
often have been converted into steel.
. Almost every prince has in his possession some
very beautiful swords. These are treasures which
do not often see the light of day, and you may
search the shops in vain to procure their like. Yet
sometimes they will be brought to your door and
you may bargain for them with a middleman, for
princes gamble like every one else in Siam, and
when ready money is no longer available they will
dispose of some of their property. The blades of
such swords as these are gracefully shaped, and the
hafts are often solid pieces cut out of elephants'
tusks, with heavy mounts fashioned of silver. Some-
times the ivory is beautifully carved, and the old
workers were not content that their carving should
rest lightly on the surface, but penetrated to the
very heart of the material. The swords used in
actual warfare were less ornamental, but often far
larger. One that I measured had a blade thirty
inches in length, fitted to a plain haft of teak, eigh-
teen inches long.
From the seventeenth century onward the blades
were frequently damascened with a running pattern
in gold or silver. Probably not so old is the prac-
tice of inlaying the back of the blade with small
strips of silver, copper, and brass. The jungle
knives, which are still made at Ayuthia and else-
where, are often inlaid in this way, and it is
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
interesting to note that the blades are forged by
women.
Very often the sides of the blade are channelled,
and on many sword blades simple decorative pat-
terns and inscriptions are cut.
The Laos covered the hafts and sheaths of their
swords with a thin sheet of silver, ornamented with
bands of plaited silver wire.
The wavy blades of the Malay krisses were made
of many laminations of iron or steel, of different
degrees of hardness, welded together and after-
wards treated with acid which brought out the
structure, producing a watered pattern. The han-
dle, of carved wood or ivory, originally represented
a crouching demon, but later this became conven-
tionalised into a bird-like form. The commonest
type is of polished wood, with a short beak set in a
different plane to the blade, and in its general lines
a likeness can still be traced to the demon. Some-
times the carved head is more elaborate, and the
beak is greatly accentuated and made of copper,
but a feature of the original figure is still preserved
in the short curling tusks. On every kriss a very
interesting survival of ornament is found in the
small projections from either edge of the blade,
near its base. On one edge there is a single well-
marked projection, similar in shape to the roof
terminal of a temple building, and this was orig-
inally part of the head of a Naga, whose body,
embossed and damascened in gold, ran down the
centre of the blade. The irregular projections from
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the other edge are the remains of a foliated pattern
which may be seen, damascened in gold, upon some
ancient krisses.
A typical Siamese spear is about seven feet long,
with a shaft of bamboo, tapering from the head.
Below the head, the shaft fits into a long iron mount
with a lotus form of decoration in relief, the raised
lines being damascened with silver. The best bam-
boos are those in which the joints are very close
together, so that they taper rapidly, and when, in
addition, they are of a good rich colour and finely
polished, they are highly prized. Light weapons of
this kind were used as javelins.
Another form of weapon consisted of a curved
blade mounted upon a shaft of wood. Sometimes
the back of the blade is deeply notched and some-
times it is provided with a hook, which gives it a
most formidable appearance. These weapons were
intended for slashing at an opponent and they were
carried by the warriors who rode to battle upon
elephants. The foot-soldiers were provided with
terrific weapons of a similar type, for the purpose
of disabling the elephants by stabbing them from
underneath.
Ceremonial spears had shafts of wood, of equal
diameter throughout, encased in tubes of copper
gilt. Below the head was a bulb of metal-work,
fretted and studded with gems, and from this a
great tassel of horse-hair depended. When the
King sat in council one of these spears was held
upright on either hand behind his throne.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
The Laos had lances eight or nine feet in length.
The shaft, of wood, tapers to the head, and it was
often ornamented with bands of silver. It is said
that these lances were used in tournaments and that
the champions of two conflicting armies rode against
each other before the hosts joined battle, as in
the days of chivalry. Ceremonial Lao spears were
entirely cased in silver and ornamented with bulbs.
The Cambodians used a weapon consisting of a
bamboo shaft with a crook to which a short straight
blade was attached, having somewhat the appear-
ance of a bayonet carried on a rifle. Unlike the
bayonet the edge and not the point was used, and
it was in reality a light axe with a long handle.
This weapon is shown in the bas-reliefs at the
Nakawn Wat and there, too, we see bows and
arrows and chariots. The bows shown at Nakawn
are four or five feet in length.
The Siamese used a straight bow of bamboo,
strung with strips of the same material, and also
cross-bows, from which they fired both arrows and
bullets. These bows were drawn to the notch by
the united exertions of feet and arms. I have
not, however, come across a single example of
this weapon, and the only bows that are now in
use are the small straight bows with which boys
amuse themselves by firing pellets of clay at birds.
They are doubly strung with rattan, and fastened to
the strings is a small piece of basket-work on which
the pellet is held, and fired as from a catapult.
Soon after the Siamese descended to their present
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SIAMESE ART
habitation they learnt the use of gunpowder, prob-
ably from the Chinese. The potassium nitrate
required for its manufacture was for many centuries
obtained from the deposits of bat guano in the caves
of the limestone hills at Lopburi, Prabat, and else-
where. The foot-soldiers carried matchlocks, and
swivel guns were mounted on the war elephants.
At the old capital, Ayuthia, there may still be seen
some cast iron wall-pieces of enormous thickness.
In the museum at Bangkok there are some very
large bronze guns, or rather mortars, with inscrip-
tions in the Cambodian character inlaid in silver.
It is said that they came from the Malay States,
but whether they were made there or not I do not
know. Whoever made them must have possessed
a large and powerful lathe, for some of them are
of fourteen inches bore and excellently turned.
From the twelfth or thirteenth century A.D. the
art of making "Niello" ware flourished at Ligor,
the modern Nakawn Sri Tamarat, in the Malay
Peninsula, and lasted until the middle of the eigh-
teenth century. This ware is made of silver. The
vessel is filled with cutch and the pattern is traced
upon it with a graver. The ground is then ham-
mered down, leaving the ornament in low relief.
Then it is inlaid with "Niello," which brings the
ground up to the level of the ornamentation, so
that the outer surface of the vessel is smooth and
the designs appear in silver upon a black ground.
In the oldest pieces the ware was left in this state,
but later it became the fashion to gild the silver, so
169
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
that the outer surface was black and gold. In some of
the best examples both gilding and the natural colour
of the silver are employed in the designs with
great effect. The interior of the vessel was always
left plain, and the reflex of the design shows through
upon it.
The black ground or "Niello" filling was pre-
pared by melting together in a crucible, lead, silver,
copper, and sulphur. The resultant black mass,
consisting of metallic sulphides of the three metals,
was powdered and fused into the hollows of the
vessel, using borax as a flux.
A similar method of decoration was practised in
Persia, whence it was introduced into Russia, and
in Italy the art was known as early as the ninth
century A.D. In these countries, however, the
pattern appears to have always been engraved in
the metal, whereas in Siam it was hammered.
Favourite figures on the old bowls were the
mythical monsters, Rachasi and Kochasi, who long
ago lived on the earth, but when they saw how
men rode the horse and the elephant they became
afraid that they too would be ridden, so they fled
to the Himalayan fairyland. More modern pieces
were generally covered with a formal leafy design,
and less and less of the black background became
visible. "Niello" ware is still made to a very
limited extent, but the patterns have become
coarser and the gilding is in larger masses than hi
the old work.
Most of the modern silverware is made by
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SIAMESE ART
Chinese, and it is ornamented with repousse work,
without inlay or gilding. The Burmese "cutch"
ware is also imitated in Siam. The Laos make
silver boxes with a characteristic decoration of
knobs covering the lids. In the Malay States the
natives make very beautiful belts of plaited silver
wire, an art which they learnt from the Chinese.
In the Royal palace and the houses of the great
nobles are many vessels made of pure gold, of a
rich red tint. Others are made of an alloy of gold
and copper, and sometimes the gold is stained with
crimson tamarind dye. Sapphires and rubies are
found in the district of Pailin, and at Chantabun
on the coast. It is noticeable that the gems are
worked by Burmese and Shans, whilst the tin mines
in the Malay States, the only mining of any impor-
tance in Siam, is in the hands of the Chinese.
The Siamese are passionately fond of jewellery,
and often carry all their wealth about them in the
shape of a valuable ring. The richer classes, how-
ever, do not display that excess of jewellery which
is characteristic of Indian princes, and in fact they
are very simple in their dress. Yet in its rich
simplicity no garment could excel the panung. It
was once the fashion to wear a different panung on
each day of the week, each day having its appro-
priate colour, but now the selection is left to the
taste of the wearer, and reds, greens, and purples,
all shot with gold, mingle together, so that a Sia-
mese crowd is full of changing colour. The most
beautiful silks are not displayed for sale in the
171
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
markets. To find them we must go through nar-
row passages and under low doorways, into the
little houses which lie far back from the main streets,
where the girls sit at their looms, and there, after
we have drunk many little cups of tea, they will
show us of their best. A good deal of the raw silk
is imported, but the silkworm is also cultivated
with considerable success in Siam. Formerly pan-
ungs were made with a white centre and a deep
border of purple or red, embroidered with gold
thread, and sometimes the whole panung was
embroidered. A certain amount of embroidery is
still done in the palace, but the panungs now worn
are always plain. On state occasions the great
officials wear with the panung a silk coat of some
dark colour, with a bold pattern in gold woven upon
it. The King and many of the princes appear, as
a rule, in simple uniforms.
Malay sarongs are worn by coolies in public, and
by all classes in the privacy of their homes, but the
gay tartans are far less artistic than the national
panung. Silk sarongs are imported from China, but
the best come from Kelantan in the Malay Penin-
sula. They may be readily distinguished by the
small rough ends of silk which project from the
material.
There is nothing that a Siamese enjoys more
than watching the lakhon or theatrical performance,
which to his mind forms the most important part
of every entertainment. A lakhon consists of a
series of spectacular effects, as gorgeous as the
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SIAMESE ART
means of the donor of the feast will allow. The
scenes are interminably long, and the story, taken
from Burmese and Javanese legends, requires sev-
eral days to unfold, for, as in our own musical
comedies, songs and dances continually interrupt
the action of the play. But a Siamese dance is as
stately as a minuet. Each dancer, standing in her
place, goes through a rather graceful series of ges-
tures with her hands, and bends her fingers into
impossible positions. Perhaps she slowly draws up
one foot, but no sudden movement is permitted.
Only towards the end the music quickens and
they all run round the stage once or twice. The
music is restful and not unpleasing, save at the
end of the quick movement, when the man in charge
of the drum atones for his previous neglect, and
the sheep-skin is tested to the bursting point. Com-
pared with the clashing cymbals, violent gestures,
and screeching accents of a Chinese theatre we can
have nothing but praise for the lakhon. In some
performances, called eekays, only men and boys take
part, and in their dancing they appear to be no less
supple than the girls.
The performers enhance their beauty by whiten-
ing their faces and wearing immensely long arti-
ficial nails, which curve back until they nearly touch
the wrists. Even in real life the Siamese allow their
nails to grow until they project for an inch or more.
After a little Siamese girl has been taken to see
a lakhon we may be sure that her ambition is to
become a prima donna, and to this end she often
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
practises. It is a quaint sight to see a tiny maiden,
dressed in a pair of ear-rings and a necklace, gravely
going through the complicated movements all by
herself. The dramatic instinct is strongly developed
amongst the Siamese, and they are not without
ability to play a sustained role. Not long ago an
adaptation of La Poupee was played with great
humour at the private theatre of the Minister of
Agriculture, and more recently they have, with
greater ambition, attempted The School for Scandal.
The music of the Siamese is not written, but is
learned by ear and handed down traditionally. It
is not possible to represent their airs by our nota-
tion with absolute accuracy, for their scale is rad-
ically different from our own. The ideal Siamese
scale is an equal division of the octave into seven
parts, and each interval therefore consists of IT
semitones. 1
In an open-air band the conductor sits within a
large circular frame, from which are suspended small
gongs of different tones. On either hand are the
ranats, or harmonicons, consisting of strips of bam-
boo strung upon a sort of cradle, and tuned by
small weights stuck upon them with wax. The
cradles are sometimes beautifully inlaid with ivory.
When, in the lakhon, an actor begins to sing, the
conductor softly follows the first long-drawn-out
notes until he hits upon the correct key. This he
gives to the rest of the band, and then the liquid
notes of the ranats join in.
1 Parry, Art of Music, p. 43.
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SIAMESE ART
In the full band which plays at a rich man's house
on great occasions there are also stringed instru-
ments. The oldest of these are the viols, which are
very similar to those used in Persia. The belly
of the instrument is made of the dried outer rind of
a cocoanut, covered with fish-skin, upon which is
fastened a piece of coloured cut glass, "serving
apparently to quench the inharmonic proper tones
of the membrane." l The foot is often of turned
ivory, and the neck, also of ivory, is enriched with
"Niello" work, or inlaid mother-of-pearl. There is
no finger-board. The three strings are of silk cord
and the bow is strung with horse-hair. Then there
are the small fiddles of a Chinese pattern, with two
strings and a belly which looks like the bowl of
a pipe. These are sometimes made entirely of
ivory. Another instrument, called "the alligator,"
is essentially the same as the Burmese instrument
of the same name though, unlike it, bearing a very
distant resemblance to the animal. In this the
strings are plucked with an ivory plectrum.
The Laos have a very beautiful reed instrument,
called the ken. It consists of fourteen pipes sym-
metrically arranged, and a small air-chamber and
mouthpiece of turned wood or ivory. A metal
plate having a tongue is inserted in a slit in each
pipe, and the joints between the pipes and the air-
chamber are stopped with wax. The pipes them-
selves are made of hollow reeds. I have seen a
1 Mr. Ellis, quoted by Mr. F. W. Verney in Notes on Siamese Musical Instru-
ments, p. 21.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
ken that measured twelve feet in length, but such
an instrument as this would require exceptionally
powerful lungs, and the usual length is under seven
feet. The tone is peculiarly sweet and chords can
be produced upon it.
176
CHAPTER VIII
RICE AND FISH
"When working paddy fields don't omit the canal for irrigation;
When in town don't neglect the dignitaries."
Siamese Proverb.
THERE are two ways of going up country
from Bangkok: the river and the railway.
By the latter we can reach Paknam Po in
about seven hours, but if our destination is far from
the line it will probably be easier, and will certainly
be more comfortable, to travel in a house-boat
towed by a launch. All our cooking is done on the
launch, and at meal-times the tow rope is pulled in
so that our boys can step across from the launch on
to the boat. For the rest of the day we can lie in
long chairs beneath the awnings and observe the
country.
The best time of the year for travelling by river is
in January. The rains are over, but the water is
still high, and the launch can go into small klongs
where a few weeks later it would stick hopelessly,
so that we should be obliged to cast loose and row.
We shall see the rice boats coming down the river,
so laden with grain that their great painted eyes
skim level with the surface. The boats are covered
amidships with a rounded roof of attap, whilst at
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SIAM:THE LOTUS LAND
either end Chinamen tug at the oars under mat
awnings, and over all the great sails of white or
blue swell into graceful curves. Huge rafts of teak
logs drift lazily down stream, with little red and
white flags fluttering over them. Their crews live
in attap huts, and at either end are half-a-dozen
rough paddles by means of which they can creep
in to the bank when the tide turns. They are
scarce slower than the strings of empty rice boats,
two or even three abreast, and stretching over five
hundred yards, towed painfully up against the
current by tiny launches.
It must be remembered that over the greater
portion of the delta the rivers are tidal, for though
the salt water does not often run up as far as Bang-
kok, the momentum of the tidal wave causes the
rivers to ebb and flow even above the old capital,
Ayuthia. In the network of canals which crosses
from one river to another the currents are very com-
plicated, for in some branches the water will be
rising whilst in others it is running out. The cur-
rents are strong and the larger boats never try to
row against them, but tie up and wait until the tide
turns.
As we leave behind us the rows of floating houses
the banks are at first fringed with a dense growth
of trees, but farther away from Bangkok the walls
of living green disappear except for an occasional
clump of bamboos and from the brimming river
we look out over the brown level country. Nothing
breaks the flat monotony save here and there a
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RICE AND FISH
lonely group of toddy palms, with often a solitary
outlying sentinel. In the still brazen heat the
quivering horizon scarce divides the silver sky from
the river of molten silver which slides along beneath
us. Under the fierce glare of the midday sun every
hue is pallid, but with the first cool breath of even-
ing the green of the banks takes depth, and the
lighter green of the bamboos is touched with gold.
Then as the sun sets the filmy clouds grow opales-
cent, and near the horizon a band of purple shows
through the green tracery, while in the west the
palms grow black against the orange sky. In the
shadows under the bamboos tiny sparks waver over
the water, as the fireflies weave their way in and out
amongst the overhanging branches. On some trees
they cluster thickly, and all show their light and
again extinguish it with one accord at regular inter-
vals, so that the whole tree seems to pulsate with
the sparkling light. I know of no more beautiful
sight than to see these fiery trees flash out from the
dark banks, while far away the summer lightning
flickers on the clouds. Then, rising above the hori-
zon, the moon shows redly through the mist, but as
it mounts higher it floods all the country with its
pure light.
We have left the main stream and are travelling
westward, through the small rivers which spread
over all the district of Ayuthia. Soon we are
plunged in darkness, for once more the banks are
clothed with overhanging trees, through whose
branches the moonbeams filter and make pools of
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
light upon the water. Now and then we swing
sharply aside to avoid some fishing boat, anchored
in mid-stream. We can dimly see her, with two
long bamboos dipping over the stern like the an-
tennae of some monstrous water-beetle. Sometimes
we see the crew toiling at a windlass, and as the
bamboo frame rises slowly out of the black water
a net comes up, dripping and glistening with fish.
Presently a deeper blackness on the banks marks
the position of a grove of large trees. Here is a
monastery, and here we tie up for the night, and
sleep if the continual plop! plop! of rising fish will
allow us to do so. With the falling of dusk the
mosquitoes come out, and directly we stop they
will make their presence felt. Up here they are
not so bad as on the muddy banks near the coast,
and they appear to be much more locally distributed.
In some places they are intolerable, whilst in others,
only a few miles away, it is unnecessary to use a
mosquito net during the dry season.
Very early in the morning we are awakened by
the intoning of the monks, and we may see some
late comer returning in his small canoe from the
begging round. The village wot is very simple.
There are the houses for the monks and the sola, or
rest-house, and perhaps there is a little bawt, but
often the sola serves also as the bawt. When we
have been up country longer we shall know these
solas well. Along the river banks the wots are
dotted at frequent intervals, and we could travel
from one end of the country to the other and always
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find at night a roof over our heads, and a dry floor
raised off the ground. The posts and the floor are
of teak, and the red-tiled roof comes low down,
giving protection from the sun and rain, but the
sides are quite open. Within the sola is a pulpit
from which the monks read during a cremation.
One or two banners painted with scenes from the
sacred books depend from the rafters, and flocks
of pigeons roost inside the roof. Along one side of
the sola is a raised platform, and at one end is a
little image of the Buddha.
On the morning of the festival the monks sit upon
this platform, with downcast eyes and hands folded
on their laps. The head of the monastery, sitting
nearest to the Buddha, repeats the commandments,
holding a fan before his face that his thoughts may
not be distracted by the pretty faces of the girls
who kneel upon the floor of the sola before him.
I remember a sola filled with kneeling women and
children, murmuring the words after the monk, and
there were present two Europeans, one kneeling
devoutly also but apart, who looked to the Christ
and not to the Buddha, while the other, indifferent
alike to both faiths, sat at his camp-table and with
scant reverence proceeded to devour his morning
eggs and bacon. Such actions give no offence, for
the monks are very tolerant. But their curiosity
will know no bounds, and first they will want to
know what we are doing, and next the amount
of our salaries, for it is polite to show a friendly
interest in us.
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Behind the wot we come at once to open country,
level to the horizon, where a hazy line of bamboos
marks the course of another branch of the river,
and in the dry months the ground is cracked and
bare, or covered only with the paddy stubble. Here
and there we see a yellow gleam from the roof of
some distant homestead, but we shall come to few
villages except upon the river banks, or where on a
patch of slightly higher ground a grove of large
trees forms an oasis in the scorching plain.
If we are going any distance we must take a
string of coolies with us several to carry water-
bottles, one to carry tiffin, one to carry an umbrella,
and then others with more water-bottles. . It would
be "oppressive" to give any coolie more than one
thing to carry, and besides, a European without
four or five attendants would be considered an
anomaly. We may contrast the practice of our
coolies, who always walk in single file over these
boundless plains, with the attempts of a party of
Englishmen to walk abreast down a narrow lane.
We shall not get very far without hearing some
old man, two or three fields away, excitedly shouting
"Nai! Nai korap!" (Sahib). Perhaps, if we have
not been in the country very long, we may turn
aside and go up to him, for he really seems to want
something, but it is only to ask where the Nai is
going.
Everywhere the people are friendly. They are
pleased when we go up into their houses, and bring
us tea and give our coolies betel to chew. As yet
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no tourists have come to spoil them by making
payment for that which is a pure act of hospitality.
Sometimes indeed their sense of what is due to us
exceeds the resources of their household. A friend
of mine was once visiting the head man of the
village in which he had made his camp. He was
asked what he would have to drink, and to his
surprise beer, whisky-and-soda, and champagne
were casually mentioned. He asked for beer, and
after a short delay a most excellent bottle of Bass
was produced. When my friend returned to camp,
his boy told him that the head man had sent round
and borrowed the Bass. My friend felt that his
moderation had been its own reward, for his stock
of champagne was strictly limited.
With all their friendliness the people are inde-
pendent too. The villages swarm with chickens,
but in many places our cook will tell us that he
cannot buy them. Perhaps the villagers are averse
to let us have them because they know that we kill
them; and yet I do not think that this enters very
much into their minds. They have no need of
money and they do not like parting with their
possessions. A pretty instance of this feeling is
given by Mr. Warington Smyth, who tells how he
once tried to buy a pony for which he offered far
more than its value, but the owner refused to part
with it, saying that it was like the cat, and he felt
sure that the children would cry if he sold it. The
Siamese pony is indeed a most domesticated animal,
for when the country is flooded it is led up an inclined
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
plane on to the platform of the house, and lives
with the family.
If we want to hire boats or carts we are often
met with similar reluctance. We approach the
matter too directly and we too readily assume that
the local officials will be impressed by the Govern-
ment kras which we carry, and which order them to
render us any assistance that is in their power. If
possible it is better to leave the matter to one of
our own Siamese, if he be a man of good position.
Let us see how he manages the business. He sends
for the Kamnun, the head man of the village, and
awaits him sitting in a sala. When the Kamnun
arrives he ignores his presence for some minutes,
but at length turns towards him and asks him if he
is the Pu Yai Ban, the head man of a hamlet, of
course a lower official. The Kamnun is sitting on
his heels, for he will not stand while the great man
sits, lest he should slight him by holding his head
on a higher level. He makes a reverence with his
joined hands and proclaims his official position,
after which another silence ensues. Presently our
friend jerks out another question, asking this time
if he can read, and on being answered in the affirm-
ative he places his kra in the Kamnun's hands,
telling him to read that. Now the Kamnun's edu-
cation has long been neglected and he is not a little
rusty in his letters, so, asking permission to go to
his house and get his spectacles, he takes the kra to
a monk and gets it read to him. Thus introduced
it will produce a great effect, and he will come back
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prepared to grant anything that our man wants.
Business thus satisfactorily settled, our representa-
tive will drop his pompous manners, and before long
he and the Kamnun are chewing betel nut together
and retailing all the news of the district.
As I have already stated, the country is very far
from being fully developed, and indeed it is probable
that not more than one-half of the delta of the
Menam is now under cultivation. Theoretically the
whole land belongs to the King, but any man can
go into the jungle and burn off the long grass and
bamboo scrub, and so clear for himself a space in
which to plant his rice. For this he pays nothing
except the annual land tax, and if he likes he can
claim the land henceforth as his own. If, on the
other hand, he prefers to clear a new patch of jungle
and abandon his old clearing, he can do that also,
and pay the tax each year on just so much land
as he cultivates. Naturally the land along the river
banks is the first to be taken up, and so the rivers
are always bordered by a strip which has long been
cultivated, and in which there are well-marked
divisions between neighbouring properties. In some
places this strip of cultivation is quite narrow,
but in others it extends for many miles in from
the banks, and where the river divides into many
branches the whole country is cultivated.
By far the greater number of Siamese are small
freeholders, cultivating on an average about eight
acres, which are sufficient to support a family of
four or five in comfort. In the neighbourhood of
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Bangkok many large properties are owned by princes
and great officials, who sublet it to small tenant
farmers. These great land-owners, however, do not
live upon their estates, preferring to attend the court
and enjoy the pleasures of the capital, so as we jour-
ney through the country we shall see none but
peasantry, save at the few large villages in which
are situated the offices and residences of the local
Governors, and the High Commissioners of the
provinces.
Sometimes each farmer lives on his own holding,
but very often ten or twenty families will build close
together, both for convenience and for mutual pro-
tection against dacoits, and these villages straggle
all along the river banks. Those who live upon the
river, but whose fields lie far away, must put up
little sheds of bamboo thatched with grass, in which
they sleep out during the time of ploughing and
sowing. In the dry season many of those who
dwell far from the river are compelled to move and
form temporary villages upon the river banks, for
they depend on large pits which are filled with
water during the rainy season, but which dry up
under the fierce heat of the sun when the rains
are over.
The districts far from the rivers are, however, the
last to become parched, for in the country between
the main rivers the water is held as in a cup, and
unless there are cross canals to drain it away it
is retained until it eventually disappears by evapora-
tion. The cross canals connecting the main rivers
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are therefore of the greatest importance. Without
them these vast intermediate districts are valueless,
for the water stands too long upon them for rice
to be grown successfully, and even were it possible
to grow the rice it could only be used for local con-
sumption, since the difficulty of transport would
prevent it from being sent to Bangkok. In the days
of Siam's greatness her rulers took care to cut canals,
but in more recent times many of the old water-ways
have been allowed to silt up. At low tide in some
districts these canals form happy hunting-grounds
for dacoits, who attack the rice boats when they are
stuck helplessly in the mud. Of late years, how-
ever, a more progressive policy has been followed.
A company has obtained a large concession of land
which they have opened up by the cutting of canals,
and, as I pointed out in a previous chapter, the
danger is now that in developing the great resources
of the country they will outrun the powers of its
population, and give undue encouragement to the
flow of Chinese immigration.
The low-lying land near the coast is flooded at
high tide, and salt is obtained by evaporating the
water retained by the banks that surround the fields.
North of the salt marshes is a district where the
water is brackish, and although some rice is grown
there it is of very poor quality. The district is,
however, covered with a thick growth of stunted
trees, which are valuable as fire-wood. Still farther
north are the rice fields. From Pechaburi in the
west to the Bangpakong River we can travel by
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
canals that pass through a broad belt of cultivation.
Beyond this zone the cultivation extends along the
banks of the rivers. The canal company's conces-
sion lies between the Menam and the Bangpakong
River and the whole of this district is one great rice
field.
The method of growing rice in Siam is that sanc-
tioned by immemorial custom. It is said that the
present cultivators are even more careless than
their forefathers, and that in consequence the qual-
ity of the rice is deteriorating. Whether or not that
is the case, there can be no doubt that by scien-
tific crossing the rice might be greatly improved,
whilst by artificial irrigation two crops might be
raised in the year instead of one. A small first crop
is actually raised on irrigated land, and reaped in
May or June.
During the dry months the farmers clear fresh
ground, and at night the light of the jungle fires
may be seen in many directions, whilst by day
great clouds of light brown smoke drift across the
horizon. In April the first showers fall. A shadow
falls over the land, there is a sudden chill, and the
wind rises until it blows with the force of a hurri-
cane. Then we see the rain advancing towards us
like a sheet of steel, roaring upon the palm-leaves
as it comes. The next moment it is upon us, spout-
ing in torrents from the eaves of the houses and lash-
ing the river to sudden foam, while the crashing of
thunder is almost incessant. At night the trees are
silhouetted against blinding flashes of lightning, and
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as the storm recedes we see flashes which run hori-
zontally, others which leap from the earth, and some
which seem to make complete circles in the sky. It
is gone as quickly as it came, leaving naught to
remind us of its passing save a freshened feeling in
the air, and the chorus of croaking bullfrogs which
it has wakened into life. Sometimes the storm may
pass us by. I have seen at midday a black sweep
of rain, a few degrees in width, which travelled round
the whole horizon, while all the rest of the land was
sunlit.
By June enough rain has fallen to make the ground
soft, and the farmers begin their ploughing. There
is no sudden rise of the river, and even in the inter-
mediate districts, of which I have spoken, the cross
canals do not overflow the surrounding country until
later in the year. The plough is a primitive im-
plement with a wooden share which turns a shallow
furrow, and it is drawn by two of the great
water-buffaloes. After the ploughing a harrow is
dragged over the fields and so the surface is reduced
to slushy mud.
Two methods of planting the rice are practised.
In places where the inundation is very deep it is
simply scattered broadcast on the fields. Very soon
it sprouts, and the whole land shimmers with the ten-
der green of the young rice. As the water rises the
rice grows up at the same pace, always keeping
its head above the surface. About the beginning
of December it is ripe, and the people row out in
boats and canoes and reap it, plunging their arms
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
beneath the surface to cut as much of the stalk as
possible. Frames are erected in the fields, and over
these the rice is hung in bundles to dry, just as in
Norway they hang up the hay. Sometimes, when
they think of it, boys climb up on little platforms
and scare away the birds. They carry a long whip,
and on the end of the lash they stick a pellet of mud
which they are able to sling at the marauders with
considerable accuracy. The long stalks of the rice
which were left standing form a tangled mat of
straw upon the fields when the water goes down.
In the dry months the farmers burn this off, and in
every direction the horizon is obscured by the drift-
ing clouds of smoke. As the straw smoulders away
it leaves behind a charred expanse, where sudden
whirlwinds catch up the embers and set them
spinning over the blackened plain.
In places where the depth of the inundation is not
so great a finer variety of rice is grown, known as
garden rice. The rice is first sown thickly in little
patches, very carefully prepared and watered. As
the rice grows up these little patches gleam like
emeralds amidst the muddy fields. When it is about
a foot high it is pulled up, and planted out in the
fields in little bundles. All the neighbours help in
planting each other's fields, and many a flirtation is
begun as the girls receive the bundles of rice from the
young men, and press them down into the soft mud.
Sometimes in the early part of the season it is
necessary to water the fields by artificial means. A
basket, pitched inside and holding several gallons,
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RICE AND FISH
is hung from a frame in such a way that by merely
swinging it water is scooped from a klong, and flung
upon the neighbouring fields. If a larger supply is
needed, the water is raised by an endless string of
wooden paddles, working in an inclined trough, and
turned by two or three children on a treadmill. The
fields are divided by mud ridges one or two feet in
height. The main ridges always run at right angles
to the river, and the depth of water can to some
extent be regulated by the cross ridges which con-
nect them. In the less valuable districts, far from
the rivers, where the inundation is usually deep and
where it is not so important to mark the boundaries
between the holdings, there are often no dividing
ridges, and the farmers mutually agree how far each
shall cultivate when they start ploughing. Gener-
ally the homesteads in these districts are so far apart
that the lack of fixed boundaries is not productive
of disputes.
When the rice is reaped and dried it is loaded on
sledges and drawn to the homestead, where it is
stacked around the threshing-floor of beaten earth.
A windmill, consisting of a pole with a slip of wood
pivoted at the top, is erected near by to scare away
the birds, while the buffaloes are kept at a distance
by tiny flags of white paper which flutter over the
ricks. From the ricks the rice is taken to the thresh-
ing-floor, and in the centre is a pole, to which
three or four buffaloes are tethered, side by side.
Then with laughter and with shouting a small naked
boy drives the great beasts round and round, twist-
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
ing their tails and belabouring them with a hard
ball of straw if they show signs of laziness, but
never rebuking them if they stop to snatch a mouth-
ful as they go, for in this kindly land they do not
muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn. But at
night is the best time of all, for what children would
think of bed when they could roll in the straw and
pelt each other by the light of great straw bonfires?
When at length the rice is all threshed out the
farmer gives a feast to his neighbours. The rice is
spread evenly over the threshing-floor, and the pole
is decorated with a sheaf, whilst all around the straw
is piled up neatly and surrounded by a white thread,
to keep evil spirits away.
The rice is winnowed by throwing up a spadeful
in the air, so that the wind blows the chaff away,
and it is then stored in great circular bins of cane
plastered with mud. From these it is taken as it is
required, and milled on the homestead itself. The
rice mill consists of a block of wood with a hollow
into which the grain is put, and a large wooden
mallet with which the girls pound it. Sometimes
the mallet is attached to the end of a long lever
worked up and down by the girls stepping on and
off its free end. When it has been pounded suffi-
ciently the rice is taken out and placed on a wicker
tray. This is held by a woman and jerked in a
skilful manner, so as to throw the rice up and catch
it again, and very soon the bran is all blown away,
leaving the hulled grain.
If the farmer has more rice than is sufficient for
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the needs of his family during the year, the surplus
must be sent in to Bangkok. Near Bangkok itself
in addition to the larger klongs the country is divided
by ditches, not more than four feet wide, and along
these the rice is brought in long narrow dugouts,
paddled by a man at either end. Where there is
no direct communication by water the rice must
be loaded into carts, and drawn to the nearest
river. The carts are a picturesque feature of every
homestead. The body is long and narrow, and the
sides are simply bars of wood, inclining outward at
the top. A few mats placed inside the cart prevent
the rice from running out, and sometimes there is
in addition a semicircular roof of matting. The
huge wheels, six or seven feet in diameter, are set
far apart on an axle so slender that it seems impos-
sible for it to bear the weight of the loaded cart, but
by an ingenious system of bars the weight is distrib-
uted, and partly applied to a frame outside the
wheels, thereby greatly lessening the chance of a
breakdown. No iron is used in the construction of
the cart, and the various parts are mortised into one
another or lashed with rattan. The cart is drawn
by a pair of water-buffaloes, guided by strings
through their nostrils. They are not attached to
the cart in any way, for the yoke simply rests on
their necks. The yokes are generally cut out of
wood, but some are made of bamboo trained to the
proper curve. The occupation of growing these
bamboo yokes enables a few typical Siamese to
earn a living without suffering undue exertion.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Very early in the morning the farmer sets out
with his string of carts, which bump and sway along
rough tracks worn out over the caked surface, and
when they come to the dividing ridge between two
fields, deep ruts enable the wheels to pass through.
If they have to ford a small klong the buffaloes will
refuse to move out of the water until the farmer has
splashed them all over, and in the heat of the day
they must be allowed to rest. By that time, how-
ever, they have probably reached the river, and the
rice is shot out of the carts on to a great heap under
a thatched roof; and there the agents of the rice
millers come to buy it and load it upon the rice boats.
Then at evening, when the shadows of the bam-
boos are growing long, we hear far away across
the fields a dreadful groaning and creaking, and
presently amidst a cloud of dust we see the empty
carts returning.
When all the rice has been sent away, work is
over until the rains begin again, and the buffaloes
are turned loose to graze upon the fields that have
been left lying fallow during the preceding year.
Two varieties of the water-buffalo are found in
Siam, the black and the white. They are formidable-
looking beasts, with their immense spreading horns,
which get very much in the way when they are yoked
together. A pair of horns has been known to meas-
ure as much as eight feet six inches from tip to tip,
measured round the curve. The buffaloes are unused
to Europeans, and if we approach them they will
face us, standing side by side, with heads thrown
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back so that their horns touch their backs. It is
extremely rare for them to charge, though in the
neighbouring French provinces they are said to be
very dangerous. In Siam they appear soon to lose
their fear of white men, and I have been on quite
friendly terms with many buffaloes. At midday
they wallow in pools of semi-liquid mud, nothing
showing above the surface but their heads, and
whilst they are grazing small white herons perch
on their broad backs and glean a rich harvest. At
night they are brought back to the homestead and
shut in a pen. It is amusing to see the children
run up to one of the huge beasts, and climbing on
his back with the help of his tail using the hock
as a step drive him home with shrill cries and
many blows from their small fists, while the remain-
der of the herd follows meekly after.
Thus happily the Siamese farmer pursues his
round with a minimum of toil, for year by year the
rivers spread a fresh layer of rich mud over his
fields. The value of good rice land on the river
within easy reach of Bangkok is roughly 5 per
acre. In the jungle, as I have said before, it can
be had for nothing. The canal company, to whom
I have referred, were bound by the terms of their
concession to sell the land which they opened up at
the low price of 11s. 8d. an acre, 1 and large blocks
were taken up by rich officials, and sublet at a great
1 Four ticals per rai, or square sen of 40 metres. 1\ rai are thus about
equal to one acre. It may be noted that the word rai, like our own word acre,
originally meant simply an open ploughed or sowed field, before it became
restricted to a definite measurement of area.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
profit to small farmers. In addition to selling the
land, the company are entitled to charge a toll upon
all boats passing through the canal.
If the rice farmer elects to open up new ground
he may be able himself to cut a klong into the jungle,
in continuation of one already existing through
the cultivated land. It is said that a klong six
metres wide, and deep enough for the rice boats,
can be cut at a cost of 2s. 4d. a metre. The buffa-
loes cost about 10 each, and on a big holding it
is usual to allow a pair for every fourteen acres.
On large farms regular labourers are employed to
do the planting, instead of relying upon the more
casual help of the neighbours. A farm-hand is en-
gaged for a whole season for 5 and his food,
which does not come to more than 5s. a month,
and a good man will plant an acre in three days.
Then there is the land tax to be paid. As to this,
two systems are in regular use side by side. Under
the Ku-Ko system a tax of 8.75d. per acre is levied
on all the land owned by the farmer, while under
the Fang-La wi system he pays 13.125d. per acre,
but only on as much land as he actually has under
cultivation each year.
To compensate for the revenue lost by the closing
of the provincial gambling-houses, a graduated land
tax is now coming into force. In the best districts
this tax amounts to as much as 2s. lid. per acre,
but there is still a large margin for profit. The
farmers themselves estimate that they obtain a
yield of about seventy bushels per acre, which
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BICE AND FISH
at an average price means 3 5s. per acre per
annum. 1
In the thickly settled districts disputes of owner-
ship are common, and here the work of the Survey
Department is proving of the greatest service.
The survey is connected with the Indian survey
by means of a triangulation carried down through
Burma. From points whose positions have been
fixed by this means, and checked by astronomical
observations, traverses are run through the culti-
vated districts. For this part of the work Indian
surveyors are at present employed, but it is hoped
in time to substitute Siamese for them. When the
rains render it impossible to continue the work any
longer, the surveyors return to Bangkok, where the
traverses are computed and set up. In the follow-
ing year parties of Siamese surveyors, trained in
the Survey School at Bangkok, proceed to the dis-
tricts already traversed, and fill in the details by
means of a simple chain survey, in open country,
whilst in jungly country or garden-land sight-rules
are used. When the survey is completed all the
land-owners are called together, and each man
points out the boundaries of his land in the pres-
ence of his neighbours. These boundaries are
marked on the map and the holding is numbered.
The owner then signs his name opposite a corre-
sponding number in a list, and the Kamnun or
some other local official signs as a witness. A
1 Or one cart load (kwien) of 2000 litres from 2 rai, sold at 45 ticals per kwien.
Similar land in Burma is said to yield from 80 to 100 bushels per acre.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
very large number of small holdings are owned
by women who are often unable to write, but all
illiterate persons are allowed to make their thumb
marks instead of signing the list. Disputed prop-
erties are marked with the names of the disputing
parties. Copies of the maps and of the attested
lists are afterwards handed to the Land Commis-
sioner, who investigates all disputes, and has power
to dispose summarily of those involving land of
a value not greater than 9 (160 ticals), while more
important cases are referred to the ordinary law
courts. Those whose claim to the land is estab-
lished receive a certificate which they can, in due
course, exchange for a permanent title-deed. There
are inevitable delays in the process, but meanwhile
no later comers can dispossess them of the land.
Thus land tenure is being placed on a secure basis.
The cost of the attested survey on a natural scale
of Tinnr amounts to about 10 per square mile in
open paddy-land, but in thick garden-land it may
be three or four times as much.
From the point of view of the Government, the
chief importance of the detailed survey lies in the
fact that it will eventually form the basis on which
to adjust the land tax, and a large increase of rev-
enue may be expected from this source. At pres-
ent the land tax is assessed by the local Kamnuns,
who, as might be expected, are not always infallible.
Moreover, under the cumbrous Fang-La wi system,
an annual expense is incurred in measuring the cul-
tivated areas, but with the knowledge gained from
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the survey the Ku-Ko system might be advanta-
geously adopted throughout the country.
In many districts the fishing rights over the
klongs are worth more than the right of growing
paddy on the surrounding land. For miles the
klongs are bordered by a weed with a large flat
leaf, which often encroaches so far that only a nar-
row lane of clear water is left in the middle. The
weeds are purposely grown to harbour fish, and for
the right to plant them an annual tax is paid, which
seems small in proportion to the number of fish
taken and to the obstruction caused to passing
boats. The fishing rights do not necessarily belong
to the men whose land borders the klong, and indeed
it is not uncommon for a single rich Chinaman
to own the rights over a whole klong. Bamboo
stakes are first driven into the mud at long inter-
vals, to keep the weeds from floating away, and the
weeds, collected from marshy places, are then
planted around them. In a very short time they
form a continuous belt of floating vegetation, with
long stalks reaching down into the mud. Once or
perhaps twice a year a section of the weed is sur-
rounded by a net; the stalks are cut, and the net
is drawn to the bank, enclosing vast quantities of
fish. Only in front of the wots there are enclosures
which are never netted, for here all life is sacred.
Rather more elaborate are the fish-traps: great
enclosures of reeds set close together, with a funnel-
shaped opening at one end. Into the trap the fish
swim easily enough, but once inside it is hard to
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
find the small inner opening of the funnel, and
harder still to pass the ring of inward-pointing
spikes which guards it. In a few weeks the trap is
a seething mass of fish, and men come with nets
to bale them out. Then there are innumerable
ways of netting fish directly. There is the circular
net which is thrown by hand, in a manner common
throughout the East as far as Japan. For per-
mission to use it an annual license of fourteen pence
(one tical) is paid. As the fisherman stands poised
in the bow of his sampan, with the net thrown over
one arm, he might be taken as the model for some
Ethiopian retiarius in the arena. Then with an
easy swing the net is thrown, and with a soft splash
sinks down till it lies outspread upon the bottom.
It is drawn up by a string attached to its centre,
and the edges, weighted by a small chain, fall
together, entangling any fish which may have lain
beneath it when the cast was made. At low tide
children wade out into the mud with baskets which
they push before them like shrimping nets; others
clap round baskets at a venture into the mud, with
the mouth downward, and explore the interior by
thrusting one hand through an opening in the
bottom. They are often rewarded by finding a
mud-fish inside.
Still simpler methods are employed. A canoe
with a white board dipping into the water is paddled
along near the bank at night, and the startled fish
endeavouring to jump over it are caught in the air
by a net which projects from the far side. We
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RICE AND FISH
can easily form some idea of the efficiency of this
method, for as the launch tows us up stream fish
are continually jumping away from the bows of
the boat, and it will be unlucky if, in the course of
the day, one does not alight on board. Fine fish,
two or three pounds in weight, may thus be secured
without trouble. Large numbers of fish are left in
the fields as the water goes down, and every pond
is the scene of active fishing operations. Indeed
the proverbial fisherman would have no scope for
exaggeration in Siam. I have camped upon the
bank of a river and imagined that I heard waves
breaking on a sandy shore, only to find that the noise
was caused by shoals of small fish jumping.
Very mysterious is the way in which fish appear
in pits dug far from any river, and filled only with
rain-water. It is true that the mud-fish will walk
upon the river banks and even cross a fairly moist
field a friend of mine once tripped over one in
his tent but we can hardly believe that they make
journeys of many miles. Nor can we accept the
theory that the fish bury themselves in the mud
while the country is still flooded, and exist under-
ground until they are released by the digging of
the pit. The only possible explanation seems to
be that the spawn are dropped by birds, and grow
to maturity in an incredibly short space of time.
Some very curious varieties of fish are found.
There is one that lies in wait under the bank, and
if a fly settles within range he shoots it with a drop
of water, and so knocks it off into the river. In
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
clear water there lives a species of small carp,
about the size of a stickleback and of a beautiful
peacock blue, with ruby-coloured fins. They are
extremely pugnacious, and they are often kept in
glass bowls by the natives, who match them against
each other, and wager large sums of money upon
them.
202
CHAPTER IX
CAMP LIFE
"Ha dog bites thee do not bite him in return." Maxim of PBA RUANG.
ON the Bangpakong River, a day's row from
its mouth, stands the village of Ban Rong
Lao: a score of homesteads along the bank
and a market, the centre of the country-side for ten
miles around. Between rows of shanties, thatched
with attap, dark narrow passages lead to villainous
opium dens, or to the gambling-house where all
day long half-naked Siamese and Chinese sprawl
over the floor, watching the croupiers as they rake
to and fro the piles of coin. An overpowering smell
pervades the whole place, and emanates from a large
shed in which stand rows of jars, filled with a fer-
menting liquor distilled from the rice. In front of
the market Chinamen are always drawing water
from the landing-stages, and splashing about in
the river underneath. Half-way across the river
stretches a row of fishing stakes, and at night lan-
terns are hung upon them in order that passing boats
may not foul the nets, for the river is a great highway.
Heavily laden sampans stop to barter their mer-
chandise, and empty rice boats, with a fair wind
and the tide beneath them, scud past faster than a
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
launch can steam. Three times a week the little
mail steamer calls on her way down to the gulf,
whence she goes round to Bangkok. On the alter-
nate days she makes the return journey up the river
to Pachin. By her we can get to Bangkok in some-
thing like twelve hours, but the boat journey into
Bangkok through the klongs takes four days.
At this place I camped for many weeks, at a
respectful distance from the market. My tent was
pitched inside a barn with walls of split bamboo,
floor of beaten earth, and roof of attap, which came
down in a low sweep far beyond the walls, and
formed a pleasant verandah. In front flowed the
river, and behind was a thick belt of palms and
bamboos, interspersed with gardens, but in a quarter
of a mile or less this gave place to open country.
An attap roof wards off the rays of the sun as no
canvas can ever do, and I was better off than had I
camped in a sola, though lacking the advantage of
a raised floor.
When camping on the ground we must be pre-
pared to find that our cases of provisions are swarm-
ing with white ants, nor are these the only unwelcome
visitors. It is distinctly unpleasant, when about to
put on one's trousers in the morning, to find that
half-a-dozen scorpions are clinging to the folds of
the garment, their light brown bodies almost indis-
tinguishable against the khaki which is the usual
up-country wear.
A friend of mine suffered a far worse experience
when, on pulling on a boot one morning, he became
04
CAMP LIFE
painfully aware of the fact that some venomous
creature was lodged in the toe. Tearing off the
boot he shook out a great black centipede. Then
he snatched up the medical book with which officers
of the Survey Department are thoughtfully pro-
vided, that they may know how to act in emer-
gencies of this kind, and with feverish anxiety he
turned the pages till he came to Bite of a Centipede.
"This is not fatal," he read, and a hasty expression
of gratitude escaped him, "but the bitten person
will suffer severe agony for several hours" my
friend's joy was modified "and nothing can be
done!" The book was severely condemned, but
in relating the circumstance afterwards my friend
used always to say, with pathetic emphasis, that
the book was true.
Sometimes other disadvantages attend the prac-
tice of camping on the ground, as when one unfor-
tunate European woke up to find that his tent had
been cut open and all his boxes removed during
the night. For some time after this experience he
adopted the ingenious expedient of sleeping beneath
a sheet of corrugated iron, which he thought would
defeat any midnight robber who tried to stab
him. Armour-plating need not, however, be con-
sidered an essential part of the ordinary traveller's
up-country equipment.
At Ban Rong Lao I was fortunate, for, although
my bamboo house was not without its fauna, few
of the more unpleasant species were represented.
Little lizards raced over the walls and did good
205
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
service in eating up the flies. With startling sud-
denness a loud "To-kay!" repeated half-a-dozen
times, would cause me to look up and see a rather
larger spotted lizard. His presence is considered
lucky, especially if he is able to repeat his call nine
times. He rarely gets beyond seven or eight with-
out sticking over the last syllable, though he evi-
dently does his best for us and makes most desperate
efforts to get it out before he gives up, with a groan
of disappointment. Perhaps he is trying to make
up for his big relative, the great water monitor, who
brings ill luck. Another jolly little inmate of my
house was a frog with suckers on his toes, which
enabled him to spring upon a vertical wall and hang
there. He was not so successful in his endeavours
to hop about on the vertical surface, and when he
grew excited in the chase he suffered many a tumble.
It was my business to set forth each day in order
to supervise the work of the native surveyors who
were scattered over the district, and as far as pos-
sible to persuade the local officials to work in har-
mony with them, whilst incidentally I acted as
medical practitioner to half the country-side.
The neighbourhood of Ban Rong Lao is much
cut up by klongs, and the few trestle bridges are
constructed in a way which makes it a highly danger-
ous feat to walk across them. The trestles are
spanned by single loose planks, sometimes rounded
on their upper surface and sometimes rounded
underneath, so that as one walks they are in a state
of unstable equilibrium; but this is simple compared
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CAMP LIFE
with those spans which are bridged only by the
projecting ends of the adjacent planks. Here we
must walk gingerly to escape being thrown off by
the springing plank, and in the middle of the span
we find that the plank has sunk beneath our weight,
and the continuation of the bridge is breast high.
More often there was no bridge, and if I could not
get ferried across in some passing boat there was
nothing for it but to wade.
There are fifty-six known species of snakes in
Siam, but of these only twelve are poisonous. 1 One
of the poisonous snakes, however the cobra is
the commonest of all. The ordinary black cobra is
at least as anxious to get out of our way as we can
be to get out of his, but at the beginning of the
rainy season, when the fields are getting wet, he
betakes himself to the drier dividing ridges, and we
must look carefully where we tread. The great
Hamadryad, or King Cobra, alone of all snakes
will attack a man unprovoked, and even give chase
to him. He is so like the colour of the dried grass
that sometimes we approach without perceiving him,
but when he raises his head and inflates his hood in
gusty rage, he is a bold man who would dispute the
path with him. I once saw a native running, as I
thought, from several others who brandished sticks,
but when I came up to them I found that a hama-
dryad had really been occupying the chief r61e as
at once pursuer and pursued, and that after a short
1 "Notes on the Fauna of Siam," by Stanley Smyth Flower, published in
the Bangkok Directory.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
but exciting run they had succeeded in killing
him.
Pythons are met with even in Bangkok, and they
grow to a length of thirty feet. At Ratburi there is
a hill which no man dares ascend, for it is said to
be the abode of a monstrous serpent "many tens
of wahs" in length. 1 One small snake has a peculiar
red mark upon his tail, which has the appearance of
a second head. The Siamese dread this snake very
much, for they believe, erroneously, that it is very
deadly, and that it actually has a head at each end,
both of which must be cut off in order to destroy it.
Another common snake which is harmless and very
pretty is the bright green whip snake.
Some Siamese say that they are immune from
snake bites, and they will show scars upon their
arms which they say were made by the fangs of
cobras. To obtain this immunity they eat a drug,
made by grinding down from a certain white root
a piece about the size of a pea, and mixing with it
an equal quantity ground from a black root. The
nature of the roots is kept a profound secret and few
have even heard of them.
On our walks across country we really run less
danger from snakes than from the fierce pariah dogs
that guard every homestead. As long as we can
face them they are easily kept at bay with sticks
and clods of earth, but it is unsafe to approach the
homestead alone, for a solitary stranger may be
surrounded and perhaps bitten before the children
1 A wah is two metres.
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CAMP LIFE
have time to drag the dogs off, and cuff them into
unwilling submission.
A large tract of land bordering one of the klongs,
near Ban Rong Lao, although quite bare of trees
is yet so high that it never gets properly flooded,
and in consequence rice will not grow upon it. This
was formerly waste ground, but it has now been
converted into most profitable pineapple gardens,
a result due to the enterprise of the Chinese who
form the greater part of the population in the belt
of garden-land along the river banks. Some of
the land devoted to pineapple growing is owned
by Siamese, but the actual labourers are almost
entirely of Chinese, or mixed Chinese and Siamese,
blood. In his report for 1901 Mr. A. J. Irwin, of the
Survey Department, gives the following particulars
relating to this land: "The owner makes an agree-
ment with the incoming tenant which really amounts
to leasing him the land for ten years. In the first
year the owner pays the tenant a certain sum for
digging the ditches and preparing the ground. In
the course of the following year the land is planted,
and no money is paid, or rent charged. In the third
year the pineapple plants begin to produce fruit,
and for the remainder of the term of tenancy a rent
is charged according to the productiveness of the
plot cultivated. Some very high figures are quoted
in the district as the rent of the best plots, but
between thirty and forty ticals a rai seems to be
an average rent. Forty ticals a rai is equivalent to
about 5 an acre, a rent that is paid for but little
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
agricultural land in the world." At the time when
this was written a tical was only worth a shilling.
Forty ticals a rai would now be equivalent to nearly
6 an acre.
In this district I have seen pineapples sold whole-
sale at the rate of one shilling a hundred, and in
the market at Ban Rong Lao a good pineapple
cost about a penny.
The neighbouring land is largely used as a grazing-
ground for cattle, ponies, and buffaloes. The cattle
are of the usual Asiatic type, with high withers.
They are used instead of buffaloes on the highlands
which enclose the delta, for the buffaloes cannot
work on the dry sandy soil of these places destitute
of water. The bullock carts are similar to the
buffalo carts, but somewhat smaller, and the bullocks
are yoked very far apart. They travel much faster
than buffaloes, and in some parts of the country
trotting bullocks are kept solely for racing. Each
village sends a team yoked to a cart, and the winner
of the race takes home all the defeated teams as
his spoil, but often not without a severe fight with
the disappointed losers.
A considerable number of cattle are sent into
Bangkok for export. This trade is almost entirely
in the hands of Indians, and they are also the
butchers in Bangkok. No Siamese would kill a
bullock for food, and up country we are dependent
entirely on rice, eggs, fish, fowl, and fruit, supple-
mented by tinned provisions brought from Bangkok.
It is not even possible to obtain fresh milk, but in
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CAMP LIFE
places like Ban Rong Lao, where there is a large
Chinese population, we have the doubtful advan-
tage of being supplied with pork. A mystery of
which I can offer no explanation is that, although
ducks seem to be comparatively rare, ducks' eggs
invariably appear upon our breakfast-table.
There is little in the dry months that we can add
to the larder by shooting, though from October to
January the rice fields are full of snipe. In jungly
country doves are fairly common, and flocks of
homing pigeons have occasionally been mistaken for
the wild variety, whilst teal are abundant wherever
there are marshes.
Ten miles east of Ban Rong Lao, across the level
plain, a hill rises to an elevation of some five
hundred feet, forming a conspicuous landmark. It
was towards the end of June that I set out to make
the ascent. My coolies carried little or nothing,
for I had heard that there was a village at the foot
of the hill, in which I could obtain shelter for the
night. We followed a cart track, and soon leaving
behind the cultivated area passed through coarse
grass jungle, with only here and there a solitary
homestead standing in a clearing. Though before
the rains began the plain seemed absolutely level,
it was now apparent that there were slight undula-
tions, and in the dips of the road we were forced to
wade above our waists. Herons were very common,
and great adjutant birds flapped heavily away before
our approach, taking two clumsy hops before their
ragged wings enabled them to rise off the ground.
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
At length we came to the edge of the forest, which
rose before us like a black wall. The cart track,
however, ran straight on, and presently we came
to a pleasant glade in which a few farmhouses
clustered around a monastery. The head man of
the village received me, and, as well as I could
for at that time my knowledge of Siamese was very
limited I explained to him the object of my
visit. He then led the way to his house, and after
climbing up to the platform, of solid teak planks,
he placed one of the little rooms which opened on
to it at my disposal. He also lent me a panung,
for I was wet through, and the younger members
of his family watched with keen delight my inexpert
struggles with this garment. At evening all the
male members of the family sat down together on
the platform, while the girls waited on them, bring-
ing out a brass tray on which was a bowl of steam-
ing rice, surrounded by various condiments in little
blue china dishes. Then when they had finished,
another tray containing betel leaf and its numerous
accessories was brought forward, and while the men
chewed, the women ate. My coolies were bidden
to the feast, but for me they committed the sin of
killing a chicken. It should be said, however, that
the Siamese do not regard taking the life of birds
as such a grave sin as killing larger animals. Very
many Siamese possess guns, and their sporting
instincts often override their religious scruples,
though so ancient and rusty are their weapons that
one fears more for the man who fires than for the
CAMP LIFE
bird fired at. Yet I have known a girl to offer some
paper birds to a man who was out snipe shooting,
asking if he would not be content to shoot at these
instead.
Very early the next morning we were awake, and
set out along a cart track, accompanied by our host,
who came with us as a guide. The sandy road
was a pleasant change after the swampy fields, but
later in the year it was evidently no more than a
water-course, and the ruts worn by the cart wheels
were two feet deep. It was tunnelled out of the
thick forest, and rose so gently that we could form
no idea as to the true direction of the hill. Without
a guide we should soon have lost our way, for the
road branched in many places. Most of the trees
were less than a foot in diameter, but of a good
height, and so close together that, with the tangled
undergrowth, they formed an impenetrable wall on
either hand. Brilliant birds flashed across the path
in front of us, seen for an instant and immediately
swallowed up again in the twilight of the jungle.
Amidst the forest there were a few large trees,
bound with great ropes of creepers and with orchids
growing high upon them, and all around us in the
cool shade gorgeous butterflies were flitting about.
After walking for two hours we came to a steep
rocky path, so overgrown that the coolies had to
go in front and cut a way with their knives. It
brought us out upon a ridge clothed on one side
by the forest through which we had come, and on
the other breaking sharply off in a precipice three
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
hundred feet in height. We looked straight down
upon the tops of the trees, which stretched right
away to some mountains on the coast, and eastward
as far as we could see. It was the beginning of
the great jungle which covers the country from this
point with scarcely a break, right away to Cambodia.
Westward, cultivation and grass jungle were all
merged in one sheet of green, through which the
sluggish Bangpakong River wound its way. On the
highest point of the ridge a little shrine covered
a representation of the Buddha's footprint, and
twice a year monks from the village come up here
to place candles and flowers before it.
In the following year I was stationed not far
from the mountains on the coast. Near the mouth
of the Bangpakong River a small tributary klong runs
through dreary salt marshes. The slimy banks,
covered with forests of attap, are the haunt of
crocodiles, which have been driven from the larger
rivers by the steam launches. For many hours
we follow its exasperating windings, but at length
the attaps disappear, and we find ourselves in the
midst of open paddy-land. The centre of the dis-
trict is the little village of Tatacut, built on both
sides of the klong, here quite narrow and spanned
by a primitive drawbridge. Save for this one small
brackish klong there is no water to be had except
from pits, and when these have dried up the people
depend on water brought in buffalo carts, from
springs five or six miles away, near the foot of the
hills. Since the usual means of communication by
CAMP LIFE
water is lacking, the district is well provided with
cart tracks, and in the course of my work I spent
long days in the saddle. During the hottest hours
I rested at some wot, and often before I got back
to camp the shadows of the palms lay black upon
the moonlight plain.
The Siamese ponies are sturdy little animals,
whose thick-set necks remind us of the classical
Greek type, nor are the Siamese, with their easy
bare-backed seat, altogether unworthy representa-
tives of the Athenian youths who sit their steeds
so nobly on the frieze of the Parthenon. The pure-
bred Siamese pony never exceeds 12J hands in
height, and the average height is a hand less. It
is probable that the breed has deteriorated, for the
horses shown in the bas-reliefs at Angkor are con-
siderably larger than this. The ponies are allowed
to run wild over the grazing-grounds, and no
attempt at selection for breeding is made. Moreover
most of the finest ponies are sent in to Bangkok,
and thus the stock is greatly impaired. Neverthe-
less, these small ponies possess wonderful endurance,
and in speed they compare well with those of Burma
and China. A Siamese pony barely llf hands in
height, and carrying no less than 8 st. 12 Ibs., has
covered a mile in the good time of two minutes and
sixteen seconds.
But it is of our races at Tatacut that I wish
to tell. The entire population of the district was
there, and every other man had brought a pony,
though few intended to race. One man who meant
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
business led his pony forward, and immediately
became the centre of an admiring ring. Into the
ring another pony was presently led, and then
followed a lengthy comparison, height, colour, and
markings being considered. All seemed to be going
well when the challenger discovered a curl of hair
on the chest of his rival's pony, and without more
ado he declared the match off, for he could not
hope to win against a pony possessing such a dis-
tinguishing mark of speed. Another and another
pony followed, but still points were discovered in
the original champion which seemed to preclude
the possibility of his defeat, and for a time it looked
as though there would be little sport that afternoon.
At length, however, one man with greater con-
fidence in the speed of his pony consented to race,
but another hour was required to decide upon the
stakes. When all was satisfactorily arranged it
was announced that Nai Dee's (Mr. Good's) red
pony, nine inches high, would race against Nai
Lek's (Mr. Small's) green pony, said to be ten
inches high, for a sum equivalent to 1 a side; and
we adjourned to the race-course. The height is
always given as so many inches above three feet,
understood and as regards colour, "red" includes
all bays and bright chestnuts, while "green" is
applied to some browns and dark chestnuts, and
is used in the sense of "wine dark."
The race-course was a rough track extending for
half a mile over the paddy fields, and only wide
enough for two ponies abreast. At the winning-
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CAMP LIFE
post a string of flags was tied across the course,
from three bamboos planted in the ground. After
the difficulty of getting up the match it was a relief
to find that we were not to be troubled with any
such formality as weighing out, for each owner
simply got hold of the smallest boy he could find
to ride his pony. When they were ready to start
the spectators lined the course, some climbing upon
bushes to get a better view, while others stood on
the great conical ant-hills, which were common in
that part of the country. The boys rode bare-
backed, and the spectators closed in behind and ran
after, shouting and waving sticks. As the winner
passed between the bamboos at the end of the
course he snatched the string of flags and bore it
off, a plan which prevents any possibility of dispute
in case of a close finish.
Racing is a sport to which the Siamese take
kindly, for it is one in which they can indulge their
passion for gambling. Cock-fighting is scarcely less
popular, and elaborate precautions are taken to
ensure fair play. The stakes are deposited in a
small bag suspended over the pit out of reach of
the spectators, and for timekeeper a bowl is set
floating in water. There is a small hole in the
bottom of the bowl through which it slowly fills,
and when it sinks the round is over. The children
are incessantly playing a game which consists in
throwing coppers at a pile of the same small coins,
and taking all which they succeed in knocking out-
side a ring. At this game they are extraordinarily
217
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
skilful. It is humiliating to the European, who has
spent a quarter of an hour in vain attempts to hit
the coins, when a small naked child sends the whole
pile flying with his first shot. Even such an inno-
cent amusement as kite-flying is made a means of
gambling. One man sends up his kite, and another
standing behind him also flies his. The kites fly
steadily though they have no tails, but by dexterously
manipulating the string the second man makes his
kite swoop and rise again, entangling his opponent's
string. The man whose kite is first brought to the
ground loses the contest.
Of games which involve much physical exertion
the Siamese are not fond, though the boys some-
times run races, and at the schools in Bangkok they
play football. The only game which is truly
national is that in which four or five men take a
wicker ball and keep it in the air, kicking it from
one to another, for ten minutes together. Once a
year, at the time of T'hot Khatin, boat races are
held, and there is keen rivalry between the neigh-
bouring villages. On their way to the festival many
an impromptu race takes place, and not seldom a
dozen gaily dressed girls in a long canoe will paddle
away from their male admirers, who in vain pursue
them.
A few miles south of Tatacut the country changes
its character, and the fields are half concealed
amongst the patches of jungle. This is perplexing
country in which to find the way. I was once
returning with a friend, at whose camp I was going
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CAMP LIFE
to spend the night, when darkness overtook us.
It was impossible to keep a straight course, for we
were continually forced to turn aside, to avoid the
patches of jungle which seemed to close in upon us
on every side as the light failed. Then, too, we had
to contend against an error which was essentially
calculated to lead us astray, for we were provided
with a luminous compass, but by an unfortunate
mistake we took the North end for the South.
Not till the moon rose in an unexpected quarter did
we realise that our judgment in this matter had
been at fault. We had then been wandering for
several hours, and had to admit that we were lost.
Our coolies were equally strange to the district, and
their sense of direction, which is generally very
good, on this occasion failed entirely. At length
we saw a light, and stumbling through a patch of
sugar-cane we came to a small hut. The occupant,
a Chinaman, was at first unwilling to accompany
us, but at length with mingled threats and bribes
we persuaded him to guide us back to camp.
From Tatacut we could take a bridle track,
pleasantly shaded for the greater part of the way,
and crossing a low spur of the hills drop down into
the fishing town of Bangplasoi. Wooden jetties
run out for half a mile over the mud flats, which are
uncovered at low tide. One side of each jetty is
kept clear for the fishing boats, and along the other
side houses are built on piles. At night the occu-
pants simply draw in the planks which connect their
houses with the jetty, and they are then completely
219
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
isolated and secure from robbers. When a house is
being built the piles are driven in by a number of
Chinamen who stand upon a cross-beam, one end
of which is lashed to the pile while the other rests
on the jetty. Holding on to a hand-rail they jump
up and down, and so drive in the pile.
Out in the shallow waters of the bay, converging
rows of bamboos planted upright in the mud extend
for many miles. Boats easily brush through, but
shoals of fish turn aside, not venturing to pass
between the bamboos as they swing to and fro in
the tide; so the fish swim along till they reach the
narrow end of the funnel, and there pass through
into a great trap.
Bangplasoi is one of the few places in which the
distinctive breed of Siamese cats is fairly common.
There are two varieties, smoke-colour and cream,
both with very dark vandyke-brown points and sky-
blue eyes.
From Bangplasoi a gallop along a firm sandy
beach, bordered by palm-trees, and with the spark-
ling sea on our right hand, brings us to the rocky
promontory of Anghin. On the beach at Anghin
there stands a stone house, sometimes used as a
sanatorium by Bangkok residents. One field season
this house was occupied by V., of the Survey Depart-
ment, and his wife. It was our custom to ride over
on Saturday afternoons to some particular camp.
On the Sunday each returned to his own camp,
and for the remainder of the week we saw no Euro-
peans. Hence one Saturday evening four of us were
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CAMP LIFE
gathered together at Anghin. After dinner we sat
in the verandah, listening to V., who could play
the zither. The sea was lapping round the rocks
at our feet, with gleams of phosphorescent light.
The coolies were softly singing around a fire, and
our ponies, tethered to trees near by, occasionally
neighed to each other.
Suddenly into this peaceful scene there burst a
blood-stained Siamese surveyor, with the news that
five hundred soldiers had broken out of their bar-
racks, ten miles away. Headed by their officers
they had fired into his tent, killing two of his coolies.
They had then chased him, and had vowed to kill
all the Europeans at Anghin. We asked the sur-
veyor what had become of his wife, and he said
that she also had run away, but not being able to
run as fast as he himself could, he had arrived first.
While we were still undecided how much of this
story to believe, other native surveyors kept arriving.
Each new arrival reported that the soldiers were
hard upon his heels, and with each the stories of
what the soldiers were going to do to us grew more
blood-curdling. It is only in fiction that travellers
ride about the country armed to the teeth, and we
had no fire-arms except our host's revolver and
an ancient gun belonging to one of the Siamese.
Believing that the soldiers had been drinking, and
not knowing to what lengths their drunken frolic
might extend, we did what we could to put the
house in a state of defence. Sentries were posted
and bamboos sharpened, for in the event of an
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
attack, we intended to line the steps leading up to
the verandah with spearmen. Then some genius
suggested that we should bring up all the bottles
of soda-water into the verandah, and use them as
bombs at short range. They were never used in
this way, but before the morning they had gone the
way of all soda-water.
The gentleman with the gun walked proudly up
and down, with the gun at full cock over his shoulder.
He started at every small noise, and there can be
no doubt that, until we sent him to join the sentries,
our lives were in grave peril. Two coolies were
despatched on ponies, with a letter to J., the Survey
officer at Bangplasoi, asking for reinforcements. It
was about nine o'clock the next morning when the
relief column arrived a single mounted gendarme
and, two or three hundred yards behind him, J.
himself, riding on a pony, with a Mauser pistol.
V., who had spent a sleepless night, was annoyed,
but J. explained that what we saw was only half his
force. The remainder had fallen off its pony and
was lying in the jungle some miles farther back.
It turned out that the soldiers, having chased our
men for some miles, had returned to their barracks.
The authorities in Bangkok took vigorous action
and drastic punishment was meted out to them, but
for many weeks our men would only consent to
work with gendarmerie standing beside them with
loaded rifles, to protect them.
The coolies who had been shot recovered, though
as one had been shot through the head the report
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CAMP LIFE
of his death could scarcely be called an exagger-
ation.
From Anghin a shady road winds round the coast
to the pretty little village of Si'racha, nestling
amongst the hills, which come right down to the
sea.
Often during the short holidays which break the
routine of official life in Bangkok, a party of Euro-
peans will charter a small steamer and escape for
a day or so to this place, and the almost incredible
hardships which they sometimes suffer on the voyage
are counted as nothing, when weighed against the
delights of bathing for hours together in the open
sea. In the shallow waters of the little cove at
Si'racha there is no fear of sharks, but once, at
Christmas, when we were anchored some way out,
we asked our old Siamese captain if there was any
danger. He answered not, but later when we were
dressing we heard him talking to the engineer. "It
is curious," he said, "how foreigners always come
down here at this time of the year, and they always
eat and drink a great deal and then they bathe, and
the sharks never bite them."
On the slopes of the hills sugar-cane, Indian corn,
tobacco, sweet potatoes, and peas are grown. A very
intoxicating liquor is manufactured from the toddy
palms. A bamboo, with the stumps of the shoots
untrimmed, is tied against the palm to serve as a
rough ladder, by which a man can reach the leafy
crown. He cuts off the fruit, and under the stem
he hangs a bucket, made of a single joint of bam-
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
boo, and so catches the dripping sap from which
the drink is made.
In the wide valleys between the hills sufficient
paddy is grown for the needs of the district. On
undulating ground the fields are laid out in terraces,
separated by ridges which retain the water. Water-
courses are made round the foot of the hills, and the
water is led on to the fields through pipes of hollow
tree trunks, and from the highest fields it is passed
down terrace by terrace through the embankments.
Farther back amongst the jungle-clad hills, tigers,
deer, and wild boars are found, but the sportsman in
Siam is often doomed to disappointment, and he
must be prepared to spend many weeks in order to
secure very few trophies. Monkeys are common,
and amongst them are the Hoolook Gibbons, con-
cerning whom there is a curious legend. The
following version appeared in the Bangkok Times of
the 25th February, 1905:
"Many hundred years ago a renowned Reussi
(Yogi) lived in a cave in northern Siam. According
to the custom of the time all young men of position
and circumstance proceeded to his cave to finish
their education. When Prince Chan Te Koo Rop
came of age he, too, was sent to this Reussi for
final training in the arts and sciences. He proved
himself an apt pupil. The Reussi took a great
liking to him. When he had completed his term of
study and was on the eve of returning to his home
the Reussi called him to him and said, 'My disciple,
take this sealed box with you to your home. It
224
tf
CAMP LIFE
contains something of importance for you, but I do
not wish you to open the box till you have reached
your home, when matters will explain themselves.
I therefore will not enlighten you any further.'
"Overjoyed at this mark of favour shown to him,
Prince Chan Te Koo Rop set off on his journey
early next morning with his mysterious box; but
after a few days' travel his curiosity overcame him
and he opened it in defiance of the Reussi's wishes.
To his intense surprise a handsome damsel sat up
and then stepped out of the box. They proceeded
on their journey and he took her to wife; but before
many days they met a notorious robber chief who
was out hunting. He travelled in their company for
a day or two, and the damsel being fair and hand-
some, and he being strong and manly, they found
that they loved each other. To test the damsel's
feelings thoroughly he asked her for the Prince's
sword. This she handed to him, and in doing so
pointed the blade towards her husband's body, he
having his back turned at the moment. This act of
hers was so significant that the robber chief slew
the Prince without any hesitation.
"In the morning reaction set in and he began
to feel qualms of conscience. It was against his rule
to kill unoffending people. In the present case the
Prince was killed in cold blood. He began to argue
further: 'The Prince was also a man of fine features;
he had rank, and position; the girl would have been
raised to rank in course of time; I am merely a
robber chief; my house is in the forest; I consider
225
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
myself less handsome than the Prince. This woman
is clearly treacherous and unstable; I cannot trust
her. She might at any moment betray me.' That
night he vanished to his old haunts, and the damsel,
left to herself in the forest, a stranger in a strange
land, wandered aimlessly about. The attention of
Pra In, whose seat is in one of the heavens and whose
duty it is to look after the welfare of us mortals,
was attracted to this helpless woman. He at once
came down, and on making inquiry of her ascer-
tained what had happened. Cursing her in most
terrible language for her infidelity whereby her hus-
band lost his life, he commanded that she should
immediately be turned into a kani or hoolook gib-
bon. This took place instantly, and the gibbon fled
howling to the trees and disappeared. Since that
day hoolook gibbons are known by their long,
piercing, mournful wail. This cry is thought to
resemble the Siamese word pua (husband).
"Pra In intentionally created no male gibbons, but
permitted the kang or black long-tailed monkey with
a white ring round its face to be its mate. Since
then, of the progeny all females have been hoolooks
and all males kangs."
226
CHAPTER X
AYUTHIA AND THE ELEPHANT HUNT
"When a furious elephant comes rushing along get out of his way."
Maxim of PBA HUANG.
EARLY one September afternoon I was driving,
with a colleague, from the Survey School on
the outskirts of Bangkok towards the town,
under a splendid avenue which throws a chequer of
light and shade on the white road. We were followed
by a box gharry, piled high with cases of all shapes
and sizes. Cooks and boys clung to the steps, and
rolls of bedding, lamps, and cooking utensils over-
flowed from the interior, and projected through the
windows. Three days' official holiday had given
us an opportunity of following the example of those
adventurous tourists who penetrate the interior
by railway and visit the old capital, Ayuthia,
which they refer to as "the jungle" on their return.
At the station we found the usual crowd of Sia-
mese, squat upon the platform amidst their posses-
sions, and placidly chewing betel nut. They arrive
some hours before the train is due to start, for they
do not like to be hurried. Presently the gates
opened and the crowd moved forward to take their
seats. The third-class carriages, of the usual Con-
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
tinental type, were pretty full, but in the solitary
saloon first we were the only occupants. Most of
the higher officials on the railways are Germans,
but the guards and station-masters are generally
Siamese, and the engine drivers are Indians or
Eurasians. The locomotives, like the steam launches
on the river, burn wood fuel.
The single line runs along an embankment
through the swampy fields, where the houses are
dotted about amidst little islets of bamboo and
bananas. Soon even these disappeared, and we
looked down upon a vast expanse of water. By
the sides of the embankment the "borrow" pits
formed deeper channels through which strong cur-
rents swirled along, and here and there upon the
other side stood wretched houses of bamboo and
thatch, with rickety bamboo ladders leading up to
them, and boats moored as it were at the front
doors. We stopped at several stations and there
seemed to be a brisk local traffic. Then we crossed
the artificial Klong Rong Sit, which stretches away
in a straight line through the monotonous, tree-
less plain like a miniature Suez Canal. There is
a lock at either end of the canal, so that boats
can always sail along it, though they cannot enter
or leave the canal at low tide. The material dug
out forms raised towing paths, and there is an almost
continuous line of villages along the banks.
In a little over two hours we were running along
the edge of the thick belt of trees which marks the
river bank, and in the gaps we caught glimpses of
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THE ELEPHANT HUNT
the river itself. Then some ruined brick pagodas
standing in the fields showed that we had reached
our destination. These remains upon the east bank
are the ruins of the city founded by the old Cam-
bodians. The later Siamese capital, Ayuthia, was
built upon an island, formed by two branches of the
river.
Thick jungle now covers the island, and in its
midst are the ruins of the temples which were the
wonder and the glory of Ayuthia when her rulers
were the arbiters of Indo-China. Year by year the
walls are riven asunder by the roots of the Bo
trees till, when the destruction is all but complete,
the interlacing stems once more bind together the
shattered masses and preserve them. Nor is all
this desolation due to the ravages of time, for dur-
ing the sack of Ayuthia very many pagodas were
overthrown by the Burmans, and thousands of old
bronze Buddhas were broken in pieces, either wan-
tonly or in the hope of finding treasure. There
amongst the piles of brick and matted creepers
these headless images lie till some European bears
them away to place in his collection.
Near the head of the island there stands a pal-
ace, once the residence of the Second King, but
though the outer wall is well preserved it contains
nothing but a few small modern buildings. Beside
the palace are the Local Government offices, the
prison, and an ugly wooden market, but by far the
greater number of the inhabitants live in the floating
houses which line the neighbouring klongs for miles.
229
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
So has Ayuthia fallen, and even its ancient title,
Krung Tep, 1 "The City of Angels," has passed on
to Bangkok, the modern capital. But if we would
see Ayuthia as it was in King Narai's day we must
picture to ourselves broad streets "paved with
Brick and bordered on each side with low houses,
behind which there are trees that cast a shade into
the Streets, and which make pleasant walks when
the heat is over." 2 Here and there were the houses
of great nobles, all of wood, but with three roofs,
one above another, as a badge of dignity. Clus-
ters of pinnacles arose on every side, and near the
centre of the town stood "the fairest Temple of
Siam ... a vast and high Fabric built cross- ways,"
having over it five domes thickly crusted with gold,
and symmetrically grouped about it were forty -four
"great Piramides of different form and well wrought,
ranked orderly upon different Platforms." 3
The streets were thronged with representatives
of almost every nation, and then as now the
Chinese were the greatest traders there.
But to return to our own expedition; we went
first to call upon the Governor, whose house was
near the palace. To reach this quarter it was
necessary to cross over to the island; so carrying
our things down to a covered landing-stage we
embarked in a rua chang. The distance up the
1 "The Siamese call it Crung si ayu tha ya, and not Juthia or Odia. Crung
si signifies excellent town. Their histories call it also Crung theppa pra ma ha
na kon" Tachard, op. cit. p. 265.
Ibid. p. 179.
Ibid. p. 181.
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THE ELEPHANT HUNT
river was not great, but it took us fully half-an-hour,
for the stream was running down like a mill-race
after the heavy rains. The Governor was out, so
we dropped down stream again and turned in to a
small klong. The remains of the old city wall form
an embankment which surrounds the island, and
through this our klong cut. Inside we found a
clearing in the jungle, where on a sanded space
there stood a monastery, shaded by large trees. To
this spot we had been recommended by my Siamese
boy, Make. We found that his own home was on
the opposite bank, and as we sat at dinner in the
sala, we were surrounded by an admiring crowd of
his small brothers and sisters.
After dinner we sent our cards up to the
Governor's house, and finding that he had returned
we ourselves followed. Make preceded us to an-
nounce our coming, and having removed his shoes
on the verandah he crawled into the Governor's
presence with far greater respect than I ever saw
him show to any other dignitary, for this was as it
were his feudal lord, and all the edicts of the past
thirty years have not served to remove the old spirit
of submission. We found that the Governor was a
most mild and pleasant-mannered gentleman. He
offered us a floating house to live in during our stay,
but we had already made ourselves comfortable in
the sala, and did not feel inclined to move in the
dark.
The Governor took a great interest in the ruins,
and every year he had the undergrowth cut away
231
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
and paths made through the jungle, so that the
buildings can still be visited. Formerly all work of
this nature was performed by the forced labour of
the inhabitants. Since forced labour has been
abolished it is sometimes rather difficult to get any
work done at all, but here as in the other provincial
capitals the prisoners are employed, and practically
they are the Governor's personal slaves. The pris-
oners themselves have benefited by the change,
for instead of being left to rot in prison they may
be seen wandering about the country with appar-
ently no restriction, save that they wear heavy
leg irons. We ourselves conversed with a cheerful
murderer, who was tending the buffaloes and play-
ing with the children outside our sola. Charitable
people often give the prisoners food and tobacco,
and there seems to be no reason why their friends
should not relieve them of their fetters. This does
in fact often happen, and much of the energy of
the local gendarmerie is expended in recapturing
them.
The Governor would have gone with us to the
ruins had it been an ordinary working day, but
since it was holiday-time he was very busy. How-
ever he sent a representative who took us over the
palace. We ascended a tower and from the battle-
mented top looked over all the island, whilst wooden
pointers enabled us to identify the various spires
which rose above the tree-tops. Then followed an
interesting half hour in the little museum where,
according to the curator, everything was five hun-
232
THE ELEPHANT HUNT
dred years old. From the palace we walked along
a road shaded by noble trees, and then a jungle
path brought us to a large open space, where once
stood the great Wat Somorakot. Three slender
pra chedis spring from the outer wall, but the walls
themselves are grass-grown mounds, and the spa-
cious courts are filled with scrub. On a hillock in
the centre stands the bawt, roofless now and stripped
of its plaster covering, so that the red-brick walls and
pillars stand naked beneath the sky. Within sits a
colossal bronze Buddha, who stares scornfully forth
from the walls fast crumbling into ruin about him.
To obtain a photograph I scrambled up to a
breach in the walls, and balanced the camera amidst
fallen bricks and creepers, whilst overhead an
impending mass of brick-work threatened me with
destruction. The Buddha is about thirty-five feet
in height, and the brick pedestals it raises another
twenty feet from the ground. The image was
made by building a core of brick, and over this the
great bronze plates were laid, dovetailing into one
another and held together by iron straps.
Returning to the sola we found tiffin awaiting us.
In the absence of that restraint which we usually
imposed upon him, our cook had allowed his genius
full play, and plied us with course on course till we
were sunk in slumber.
That evening we walked along the embankment,
and taking a sampan a mile lower down crossed
over to Wat Chern. This temple is three hundred
years old, but it is in perfect repair, and it is always
233
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
thronged with Chinese worshippers. The most
important building is the lofty wihan. It was
already dusk when we got there, and as we stood
in the porch we could at first see nothing but the
blackness of the interior; but slowly, as our eyes
grew accustomed to the light, the huge dull gold
image of the Buddha loomed out of the obscurity,
and seemed to fill the whole building. Stepping
inside we saw him sitting with majestic mien
between great round pillars which upheld the roof.
Most impressive was the lighting, which is so man-
aged as to produce at this time of day a wonderful
effect. In the lower part of the building the only
light entered through the door, for in the deeply
sunk windows the heavy shutters were all fast
closed; but high up in the lantern-like roof was a
narrow opening through which the waning sun-
beams fell like a glory about the Buddha's head,
though they could not pierce the black recesses of
the roof far above.
This image is built of brick covered with plaster,
and then lacquered and gilt. It is fully fifty feet
in height, and only a narrow passage is left between
the image and the walls of the building. Around the
walls are many other images, standing and sitting,
and some far larger than life size, but they are all
dwarfed by the enormous figure in the middle. The
walls themselves are honeycombed with innumer-
able small niches, each containing an image, and it
is said that there are altogether twenty thousand
images in the building.
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THE ELEPHANT HUNT
On the following day we took a sampan and
rowed up the river. Above the town we entered
a pretty klong overhung with trees and bamboos,
but presently it became a regular street of floating
houses. Here we turned off into a by-way, only
practicable for boats when the floods are out, for
it led us through a forest where the trees were
standing in two feet of water. After turning and
twisting amongst the trunks and breaking through
the bushes we came out upon the open fields, and
rowed across to a patch of higher ground on which
stood a tall pra chedi, raised upon a pyramidal
base. This was the famous "Mount of Gold," of
which old writers tell, but the glory of its gilded
spire had departed, and since our visit it has been
overthrown by a hurricane. From the highest
terrace we had a splendid view over the surround-
ing country, and looked across the flooded fields
to the wooded island of Ayuthia.
Beyond the busy lines of floating houses, on a
tongue of land between two of the numerous
branches of the river, stands the paniet or elephant
stockade. This is a square enclosure of posts, ten
feet high and about two feet apart. It is surrounded
by a broad wall with a parapet, and at one end is a
pavilion for the King and his court. On opposite
sides of the stockade are two narrow openings,
connected with passages which lead through the
wall. These passages are closed by great beams
which hang pivoted at one extremity from a frame-
work overhead. They can easily be drawn aside
235
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
by ropes, and when the tension is relaxed they
swing back again, and bar the entrance. Outside
the wall more posts are planted, so as to enclose a
large triangular space, whose apex is at the narrow
gap in the wall. In the base of the triangle a wide
gate is left, and beyond this radiating lines of posts
direct the advance of the elephants. This is the
scene of the great "Elephant Hunt," which takes
place once in every three or four years.
North of the Nakawn Nayok River a vast tract
covered with long grass stretches away to the Korat
hills, from whose jungle-clad slopes the wild ele-
phants come down and wander over the plain.
The natives who live in outlying homesteads go in
considerable fear of them, and occasionally a man
is chased and killed by a "rogue" elephant. An
elephant that is about to go must can be recognised
by the patches of oil which exude from his temples,
and when in this condition he goes off by himself
and he is a dangerous fellow to approach. The
herds may be approached without much difficulty,
and though they are shy they do not exhibit that
unreasoning fear of man which causes the elephants
in wilder districts to stampede. Sometimes indeed,
when in mischievous mood, they will come amongst
the paddy fields doing great damage, and the culti-
vators fly to the frail protection of their houses,
where they do their best to drive away the intruders
by firing guns and banging tins.
One of my camps was on the Bangpakong River,
not far from Pachin, and there I used to see the
236
THE ELEPHANT HUNT
elephants almost every day. My first encounter
with them followed upon the report that a herd of
five hundred had been seen upon the other side of
the river. I found the ground trampled all over,
and in one place the grass was crushed down and
showed clearly the outline of an elephant, who had
been lying on his side. Then as I was pushing
through some tall reeds, which screened the country
in front of my sight, I came suddenly upon two
huge black shapes. Two elephants were quietly
tearing up great bundles of grass and stuffing it
into their mouths, whilst the small white herons sat
on their backs as contentedly as on the buffaloes.
The elephants did not see or hear me, but as I was
making a detour to avoid them they suddenly
winded me. Instantly they threw up their trunks
the better to catch the scent, and then with flapping
ears they shambled off in the opposite direction.
On another occasion I saw five or six wallowing
in a mud bath, and amongst them two half-grown
ones. Each wrapped his trunk fast round the
other's head, and they gnawed each other like two
great puppies at play.
I was anxious to obtain some photographs of the
elephants, so one day I took my camera and walked
along the river bank. There was one place called
the Elephants' Ford, where it was said that they
crossed every night. At first I was unable to see
the country on the other side, owing to the bamboos
which fringed the banks, but presently there came
a bare patch and I looked across. A storm was
237
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
raging over the hills, which were almost blotted
out, but between them and me stretched the sunlit
plain, and wandering over it in many directions
were elephants in small herds of six or eight. After
being ferried across I approached the nearest herid.
Though there was no cover of any description, I
was able to walk up to within a hundred yards of
them and take several photographs, using a tripod
and focussing cloth, and all this time they did not
see me. At length, however, they took fright,
and rushing together went off all abreast at a lum-
bering trot, which raised a great cloud of dust. At
a little distance they wheeled in perfect line, and
faced me as the buffaloes do under similar circum-
stances. Then satisfied that they were not being
followed they broke up and started feeding again.
Amongst all the wild elephants that I saw, either
in the jungle or at Ayuthia during the Hunt, there
were no tuskers except young ones, though there
were very many large tuskless males. Where the big
tuskers go to I do not know, but tracks have been
seen where, in addition to the footprints, there were
pairs of holes made by the points of the tusks,
which were so long that they touched the ground
at each step as the elephant walked along. The
young tuskers which are caught and tamed at
Ayuthia sometimes grow enormous tusks. In the
museum at Bangkok there is a tusk that measures
9 feet 10 J inches along the outside curve.
Weeks before the Hunt is to take place at Ayuthia
the elephant-catchers are sent out into the jungle.
238
THE ELEPHANT HUNT
The business of elephant-catching was part of the
system of forced labour, and these men now form
a hereditary caste. They take with them a score
of tame tuskers and a small army of beaters. Many
days may be spent in locating the herds, and many
more are required to collect the wild elephants
into one great herd. All this while the beaters
exercise the utmost caution, for were the elephants
to be alarmed at this early stage they would move
off to a different place, and the work would have
to be begun over again. As soon as the elephants
have been collected into a single herd they are sur-
rounded by a cordon of beaters and tame tuskers,
and at night fires are lit to prevent them from break-
ing out. Then the great drive begins. A tame ele-
phant leads the way, half-a-dozen tuskers press in
upon their rear, and the herd moves off, while on
either flank are the long lines of beaters. So they
proceed over the open plain, covering ten or twelve
miles each day, for they often stop to feed and even
on the march they do not exceed a rate of four miles
an hour. When travelling with loaded elephants
the average rate is under three miles an hour. It
may take a fortnight to reach Ayuthia, and at
any stage of the proceedings one concerted charge
by the wild elephants would brush aside the lines
that hem them in, yet they never make the attempt.
This drive differs from anything else of the sort,
and it is only possible from the fact that, having
been corralled in this way for many generations, the
elephants are semi-tame. It has always been held
239
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
that the elephants would not breed in captivity,
and for this reason only as many as are actually
required are selected from the herd, and the remain-
der are released and allowed to wander back to the
jungle. Thus to many of these elephants the drive
is by no means a new experience. In the keddahs
of India and in northern Siam, where whole herds
are captured to work in the teak forests, the beaters
are careful never to show themselves, and elabo-
rate precautions are taken to conceal the stockade
in thick jungle; but here at the end of the drive the
elephants have to face not only the stockade but
a mob of spectators. For the Elephant Hunt is a
great national holiday. In Bangkok all the Gov-
ernment offices are closed, and every one goes up
to Ayuthia. The trains are packed to overflowing,
and the house-boats on the river recall, in a small
way, the scene at Henley Regatta.
It was in March, 1905, that I was able to be pres-
ent at the Hunt. Our party travelled up from
Bangkok by train, and on our arrival we found a
launch waiting to take us to our house-boat through
the streets of floating houses. On the platform of
almost every house was a little altar, decked with
flowers and incense sticks, to do honour to the
King as he passed. As we sat at tiffin the excite-
ment of the crowd on the bank warned us that the
elephants were in sight, so taking a sampan we
rowed over to a small island in the river. From
this point we could look across the level plain to
the jungle, two miles away. The elephants were
240
THE ELEPHANT HUNT
already half-way across the plain, moving forward
in a compact black mass guarded by the tame
tuskers on every side. Each of the tuskers was
ridden by a mahout and an elephant-catcher, wear-
ing blue uniforms and broad-brimmed sun helmets.
As the herd approached the river bank the crowd
scattered from before them, taking refuge behind
the flanking lines of tame elephants. Straight on
the leader went, down the bank, and waded out
into the river. Then followed a fine sight as the
great herd hesitated for an instant on the brink,
and poured over the edge in a black wave, two hun-
dred and fifty of them, slipping and sliding down
the steep bank in a cloud of dust, with trumpet-
ings and squeals. Soon they were all swimming,
keeping so closely together that they formed one
black patch upon the water, while the tuskers pre-
served their positions on every side. As they swam
they held the tips of their trunks above the surface,
while the mahouts, upon the backs of the tame
elephants, knelt or stood upright. After gaining
the other side the herd was allowed to rest for a
while, and the hot thirsty animals revelled in the
shallow water, taking deep draughts and squirting
streams over each other in excess of joy.
At length the final drive began. Led by two
tame elephants, and closely hemmed in behind, the
herd pressed forward into the outer stockade, and
the bars were slipped behind them. They had
still to face the narrow passage through the wall,
leading to the inner enclosure, and this they did
241
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
not like at all. As before, a tame elephant led the
way, but it was not until the tuskers had come up
and pushed and prodded those behind that the herd
swayed towards the opening, and still those in front
held back. At last one made a break and with a
frightened squeal ran in, and he was followed by
many others. In this way fifty or sixty elephants
were got inside, but then a strange thing happened.
Perhaps it was the sight of the great crowd press-
ing closely against the posts on every side that at
length made the elephants realise that they were
in a trap, but, whatever the cause, they were grow-
ing very restive, and remained huddled together in
the centre of the stockade. Now and then they
would crush against the posts, and one big fellow
made a fierce charge in the attempt to regain his
freedom. Then the posts creaked ominously, for
though they look so stout they are hollow with age.
When the elephants came near, the crowd outside
gave way and prepared to fly, should they break
out, but between the posts were stationed men who
thrust with long spears at the elephants, and kept
them back. Matters were now at a deadlock, for
no more elephants would go through the opening,
and those behind were pushing forward and boring
into the throng, the little tuskers charging fiercely
in with the best of them. As the crush grew worse
some were trampled underneath and some were lifted
off their feet, while in the very middle one great
tuskless male was seen high above his fellows,
walking upon the backs of those who had sunk to
THE ELEPHANT HUNT
the ground. Then, mingled with the grunts and
squeals, was heard the deep roar of anger, and on
the outskirts of the scrum were some who slapped
the ground with their trunks in rage. It was soon
apparent that many of the smaller elephants were
being crushed to death, and so the tame tuskers
came round and drove the whole herd back again
towards the river, but a pile of fifteen was left
lying on the ground. Water was brought in long
joints of bamboo, and poured over the prostrate
elephants. A few recovered, and with the help of
the tuskers regained their feet and joined the herd,
but the greater number of them were dead.
In the evening, after the crowd had gone, the rest
of the herd was safely got inside the inner stockade.
The next morning the wall was thronged with sight-
seers, and those who could find no room there
crowded into the narrow space between the wall and
the stockade itself. The elephants appeared to be
resigned to their fate, and some were pouring dust
upon their heads and blowing it over their backs
with a philosophic air of disregard for their sur-
roundings. The catchers, mounted on the tame
tuskers, were riding in amongst them. They had
ropes of rhinoceros hide, and at one end was a
noose which they guided by means of a long bam-
boo. Having singled out an elephant they seized
the moment when one foot was off the ground to
slip the noose deftly over his hind leg, and having
drawn it tight they threw down the loose end of
the rope. Then men ran in between the posts, and
243
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
catching the rope lashed it to a post. If the wild
elephant struggled the tame tuskers forced him
back, and as he approached the posts, the rope was
drawn in, until he was tied up against them. Only
five or six elephants were caught, and the young
tuskers were generally the ones to be chosen.
Shortly after midday the herd was let out through
the opposite entrance to that through which they
had been driven in. Outside they were surrounded
by a cordon of spearmen and tuskers, but neverthe-
less two or three broke away and charged through
the crowd, who fled in all directions. This is what
the Siamese really enjoy, and they show the most
reckless daring, running up to the elephants and
dodging away, but generally before the play is over
some one gets killed. One of the elephants that
escaped was a young tusker, only four feet high.
The little fellow was mad with rage, and chased
the crowd, who danced round him shrieking with
delight. This was one of the smallest elephants in
the herd, but much younger ones have taken part
in the Hunt. Some years ago a baby elephant was
actually born in the paniet, and ran round under
his mother all the time, protected by her from the
crushing and jostling. His little woolly body and
absurd shrill trumpet soon came to be looked on
as the chief feature of the performance.
As soon as the herd had been driven out, numbers
of Siamese entered the paniet to search for any
hairs that had fallen from the elephants' tails, for
these are powerful charms.
244
THE ELEPHANT HUNT
In the afternoon the captured elephants were
driven out, the mooring ropes being passed from
post to post as they went. Outside the paniet a
tusker ranged up on either side; a collar of rattan
was slipped round the neck of the captive and
attached to similar collars on the tame elephants,
and so he was marched off to some long sheds,
where the elephants were tied up once more to stout
posts. There they remain for six weeks, by the end
of which time they are quite tame.
Meanwhile the herd was taken to the river to
bathe, and all that night they were kept upon the
bank, closely surrounded. On the last day of the
Hunt the catching goes on in the open. This is
an exciting time, for many elephants break away
and charge blindly through the neighbouring gar-
dens, while if they find a house in their path they
may pick it up, in a fit of annoyance, and throw it
into the river; and sometimes the occupants of the
house-boats are filled with consternation to find an
elephant bearing down upon them.
When all is over the herd is driven away again,
with scarcely diminished numbers. The tuskers
accompany them until they are safely off the culti-
vated land, and then leave them to find their way
back to their old haunts.
So for many centuries has the King hunted his
elephants at Ayuthia. In former days the Hunt
was not only a great spectacle, but also a serious
business, for the van of the Siamese army was com-
posed of elephants of war. Father Tachard tells
245
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
us that at the time of his visit to Ayuthia the King
possessed no less than twenty thousand elephants,
not counting those that were wild among the woods
and mountains. There was then in the palace a
white elephant said to be nearly three hundred years
old, which had been the cause of many wars. Father
Tachard was taken to see him, and his description
of him runs: "He is but little, and so old, that
he is wrinkly all over. Several Mandarins are
appointed to take care of him, and he is only served
in Gold." 1 We learn that there were altogether
one hundred men in the service of this elephant.
Of the elephant that was designed to be the suc-
cessor of the one in the palace Father Tachard
wrote: "This little Elephant is somewhat bigger
than an Ox, hath many Mandarins in his Service;
and for his sake there is great respect shew'd to his
Mother and Aunt that are kept with him." 2
It is to be feared that the modern representatives
of these famous animals receive but little honour
in comparison. Father Tachard makes frequent
references to the elephant hunts which took place.
His description of the method employed for draw-
ing the wild elephants to the stockade is amusing.
"When the day appointed for this Hunting is come
Huntsmen go into the Woods, mounted on She-
Elephants which are trained to the Game, and cover
themselves with leaves of Trees that they may not
be seen by the wild Elephants. When they are got
pretty forward in the Forest, where they think some
1 Op. cit. p. 172. * Ibid. p. 197.
246
THE ELEPHANT HUNT
Elephant may be, they make the Female give some
neys that are proper to attract the Males, who
presently answer by dreadful roarings. Then the
Huntsmen perceiving them at a vast distance
return back again, and gently lead the Females
towards the Amphitheatre we mentioned: the wild
Elephants never fail to follow them." * We also
hear how ten or twelve elephants escaped up a moun-
tain when they were being herded together, "and
for that purpose made use of a very surprising
expedient; fastening themselves by their Trunks to
one of the Trees that were upon the side of that
very steep Mountain, they made a Skip to the Root
of the next, and in the same manner clambered from
Tree to Tree with incredible efforts, until they got
to the top of the Mountain, from whence they saved
themselves in the Woods." 2
Another delightful reference to the Elephant
Hunt occurs in the Diary of Samuel Pepys. Under
the date 17th August, 1666, he writes: "Back with
Captain Erwin, discoursing about the East Indys,
where he hath often been. And among other things
he tells me how the King of Syam seldom goes out
without thirty or forty thousand people with him,
and not a word spoke, nor a hum or cough in the
whole company to be heard. He tells me the pun-
ishment frequently there for malefactors is cutting
off the crowne of their head, which they do very
dexterously, leaving their brains bare, which kills
them presently. He told me what I remember
I 0p. tit. p. 216. * Ibid. p. 233.
247
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
he hath once done heretofore: that every body is
to lie flat down at the coming by of the King, and
nobody to look upon him upon pain of death. And
that he and his fellows, being strangers, were invited
to see the sport of taking of a wild elephant, and
they did only kneel, and look toward the King.
Their druggerman 1 did desire them to fall down,
for otherwise he should suffer for their contempt
of the King. The sport being ended, a messenger
comes from the King, which the druggerman thought
had been to have taken away his life; but it was to
enquire how the strangers liked the sport. The
druggerman answered that they did cry it up to
be the best that ever they saw, and that they never
heard of any Prince so great in every thing as this
King. The messenger being gone back, Erwin and
his company asked their druggerman what he had
said, which he told them. 'But why/ say they,
'would you say that without our leave, it being not
true?' 'It is no matter for that,' says he, 'I must
have said it, or have been hanged, for our King do
not live by meat, nor drink, but by having great
lyes told him."
1 Dragoman.
248
CHAPTER XI
LOPBURI, AND THE STORY OF PHAULCON
"When cutting down rattans don't leave the thorns and sprouts;
When killing the father don't spare the offspring."
M on Proverb.
ABOVE Ayuthia the railway bends towards
the east, and, receding far from the river,
passes through country which was formerly
uncultivated and covered with stunted trees. Since
the opening of the line this country has been turned
into rice land, but though it has been cleared of the
undergrowth and bushes the trees have been left,
and they remain dotted over the fields in small
clumps. At Banp'haji the line divides, one branch
continuing in a north-easterly direction over the
ridge of the Korat hills to the walled town of Korat,
while the main line strikes off to the north. At
Tarua the main line crosses the Nam Sak, a tribu-
tary of the Menam, and ten miles away on our right
we see the jagged outline of the Prabat hills. Half-
an-hour later another low range comes in view, and
we arrive at the ancient town of Lopburi, the Louvo
of the French writers of the seventeenth century.
This was one of the last strongholds of the Cam-
bodian power in southern Siam, and it afterwards
formed an outpost of the advancing Siamese. Much
249
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
later, when the power of Siam was at its zenith,
Lopburi became a favourite residence of King Narai,
who divided his time between this place and
Ayuthia.
The town is pleasantly situated on rising ground
which commands the surrounding plain, and on one
side it is washed by a branch of the river. It is
encompassed by a great earthwork, now much over-
grown, strengthened with bastions faced with brick.
The principal entrance is through a gateway thirty
feet in height, an ogee arch, surmounted by battle-
ments of the typical form of the leaves of the Bo
tree. These defences belong to the more recent
period of its history. Writing in 1688 Father
Tachard says: "They'l set about the Fortifica-
tions of Louvo as soon as Bancok is fortified, which is
a place of greater importance, and, as it were, the
Key of the Kingdom of Siam. These Works will
soon be compleated, because an infinite number of
Workmen will be employed, and the Ground is
easie to be cast up." The plans, we learn, had
already been drawn by Monsieur de la Marre, "an
able Engineer." 1
It is on record that the work was carried out by
companies of a thousand men, each thousand work-
ing for a month. It is evident that in those days
the population was much more concentrated round
large and important centres than it is at present.
This arose from two causes, firstly, because the
people massed for protection, and, secondly, because
1 Op. cit. p. 198,
25Q
LOPBURI
the King wished to keep them near him in order
that he might employ them on great works of this
nature. One result of these large towns was that
when the King was absent it was easy to start a
rebellion. This in part accounts for the number
of independent or semi-independent states into
which Siam was split. Sometimes one town and
sometimes another became the most important, and
thus the ruins of each one of them are called the
ruins of the old capital of the country.
The King's palace at Lopburi dates from the
same period as the walls, and a similar form of arch
is employed in the gateways. Hard by the palace
is the ruined house of King Narai's great minister,
Phaulcon. It consisted of a central portion with a
one-storied wing at either end. In the central por-
tion was a cruciform chapel, with circular western
window, and the stone altar is still in position.
Probably dating from Phaulcon's time is a section
of a round pillar of quartz, with Ionic capital, which
lies in an open space near by. It may have formed
a portion of the cathedral which he is said to have
built, but of which I have found no other traces.
In Phaulcon's time copper was worked in the neigh-
bourhood of Lopburi, and the remains of a smelting
furnace may still be seen.
Phaulcon also devised the water-works, for bring-
ing water to the palace from the hills eight miles
away, through earthenware pipes, no mean engi-
neering feat. Mr. A. J. Irwin has found the reser-
voirs, covering an area of over three square miles,
251
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
surrounded by a dam on three sides, and shut in
on the east by the sloping ground that leads to the
hills. The depth of water must have been about
ten feet. There is a sluice-gate for letting the
water out on the west, towards the city, and another
on the north-east side. There are also sluices at
two points on the line of pipes. Most of the brick-
work of these sluices is still standing. At three
places on the way there are settling tanks, and just
within the city wall are two large reservoirs. Mr.
Irwin also found the pipe itself, at the place where
it crosses the moat. It is at that point a ten-inch
pipe, encased in brick. Even more surprising are
the old roads on high and wide embankments,
which run from Lopburi to the hills.
The most interesting remains at Lopburi date,
however, from the earlier period of its history. The
railway runs right through the old town, and just
beyond the station there stood for many years a
dense thicket. Unsuspected among the trees lay
buried an ancient temple, but the trees have now
been cut down, and the old stonework freed from
the clinging embrace of the creepers. The temple
is of the Hindu type, and was built during the
supremacy of the Cambodians in southern Siam.
It is in fact identical in style with the ancient sanc-
tuaries which are found farther east, in Cambodia
itself. It consists of three small cubical chambers,
entered through low square doorways, and sur-
mounted by blunt spires possibly dedicated to
Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva. The chambers are con-
252
LOPBURI
nected by short covered galleries. All this lower
part is built of fair-sized blocks of laterite, laid upon
each other without cement, whilst the lintels and
door-jambs are sandstone monoliths, beautifully
fitted. The galleries and chambers are roofed in
with great slabs of laterite which project one beyond
another, and the upper courses of the spires are
overlaid with cement.
Whatever may have been the original dedication
of the temple it was at some early date converted to
Buddhist uses, for the galleries are full of life-size
images of the Buddha, very finely carved in sand-
stone and with sevenfold hooded cobras rising fan-
like behind their heads.
We saw in the introduction how the old sanc-
tuaries in Cambodia suffered later additions, and so
here, with a barbarous mixture of styles, transepts
were built out from the central tower on either side,
converting the building into the form of a cross.
The brick walls of one transept only are still stand-
ing. The gable roof which they supported has long
since fallen in. Yet this addition was probably
made no earlier than the time of Phaulcon, for the
windows and the doorway are round arches, a fea-
ture not properly belonging to Indo-Chinese archi-
tecture, but which may well have been introduced
when European influences were strongly felt. So at
the present day in some modern temples we may
see a limited use of the arch, though rather as a
decorative feature than as part and parcel of the
building.
253
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Near by is the great Wat Na Pra Tat, in which
the oldest part consists of a platform of laterite in
the form of a Greek cross. At the extremity of each
arm was a sanctuary of the type already described,
connected by a short gallery with a larger tower of
the same character, standing in the middle. This
was the usual arrangement of a fivefold sanctuary,
and the only exception that I have heard of occurs
at Pechaburi, where there is a very remarkable
group of towers, built at the extremities and point
of intersection of the arms of a Latin cross, with no
signs of connecting galleries.
The structure at Lopburi is of later date than the
threefold sanctuary already described, and the lintels
of the doorways are simply beams of wood. This
accounts for the fact that only the central tower and
one other are now standing. The towers are covered
with an extremely hard but brittle cement, moulded
with exquisite finish. Every niche is occupied by
figures of the Buddha surrounded by kneeling dis-
ciples, while great sevenfold cobras and decorative
patterns in low relief wander over the walls. It is
extraordinary to see the great piles of laterite blocks
lying in confusion all around, whilst the fragile
cement looks as fresh as though it had been moulded
yesterday. Around this central group of spires
were built two courts, one within the other, and in
the outer court stood image-houses and pra chedis.
The pra chedis are of an unfamiliar type, with deep
recesses in the sides to contain images. The con-
tinuity of the walls which enclose the courts is broken
254
LOPBURI
by a bawt, of which the brick walls still remain.
Many of the slender octagonal pillars which upheld
the roof are also standing. They were built of
bricks shaped into segments of an octagon, and so
firmly cemented together that those pillars which
have fallen have cracked into two or three large
pieces, as a monolith might do. The columns are
covered with a layer of cement, moulded into lotus-
leaf capitals. As I walked through the courts
nothing could seem more deserted, yet suddenly I
came upon an offering of flowers, still fresh, laid
simply on the ground in this holy place.
At Lopburi I have only seen one temple which
contains evidence that it was ever actually used as
a Hindu place of worship. Here a flight of steps
leads up a rough pyramidal structure, all of laterite,
and on this stands a small brick chamber containing
an image of Siva, carved in several pieces out of
sandstone.
Closely connected with Lopburi is the name of
Constantine Phaulcon, whose history is thus related
by Father Tachard i 1
"He is a Grecian by Nation born in Cephalonia,
his Father being a noble Venetian the Son of the
Governor of the Island, and his Mother a Daughter
of one of the Ancientest Families of the Country.
About the year 1660, when as yet he was but about
twelve years of Age, he had discretion enough to
reflect upon the bad condition into which his Parents
had reduced the Affairs of his Family. The thought
1 Op. cit. p. 134 et seq.
255
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
of that made him take a Resolution that could hardly
be expected from a Child of his years. Not being
able to support his quality in his own Country he
went on Board with an English Captain, who was
returning into England"
There he took service with the East India Com-
pany and went out to Siam, where he lived in the
family of one Mr. White, a considerable merchant. 1
Having scraped together a small fortune he resolved
to start a trading venture on his own account, and
for that purpose he bought a small ship. Attempt-
ing to put out he was beaten back by bad weather,
and was cast away twice in the mouth of the river.
"Putting out again to Sea once more, he was
Shipwracked a third time and much more unfortu-
nately upon the coast of Malabar; he was in danger
of having perished there, and could not save of all
he had above two thousand Crowns. In this sad
condition being oppressed with sorrow, weariness
and sleep, he had laid himself down upon the Shore,
when, whether he was asleep or awake, for he hath
protested to me oftener than once he could not tell
himself, he thought he saw a Person full of Majesty,
who looking upon him with a smiling eye, most
mildly said unto him; Return, Return from whence
you came. . . .
"Next day whilst he walked by the Sea side, mus-
ing upon what he had seen in the night time, and
uncertain what to think of it, he saw a Man coming
towards him dropping wet with a sad and dejected
1 As we learn from the Letters, cited on p. 28.
256
LOPBURI
countenance. It was an Ambassador of the King of
Siam, who upon his return from Persia had been
cast away, without saving any thing but his life."
This proved to be the turning-point in Phaulcon's
fortunes. With the two thousand crowns which
remained to him he bought a barque in which he
carried the ambassador back to Siam. Through the
friendship of this ambassador he became assistant
to the "Barcalon," the first minister of State.
"This Barcalon was a witty Man, and well versed
in business, but he avoided trouble as much as he
could and loved his pleasures. It ravished him that
he had found an able, faithful and industrious Person
on whom he might repose the cares of his place."
Phaulcon was now often brought to the notice of
the King, who soon formed so high an opinion of him
that on the death of the "Barcalon" he wished to
put Phaulcon in his place. This, however, Phaulcon
besought him not to do, for he feared the envy of the
great men about the King. Nevertheless, though
not in name, he was in fact the most important
person next the King, so that Father Tachard
wrote: "At present every thing passes through his
hands, and there is nothing done without him."
There were at that time many French Jesuits
in Siam, and these gained a great influence over
Phaulcon. We read in the Letters, written by
men less favourably disposed towards Phaulcon
than was Father Tachard, that "whil'st he was in
England, and a good while after he had been settled
in Siam he was a good Protestant, but when he fell
257
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
into the Jesuits' hands they soon perverted him, and
made him embrace the Roman Catholick Religion,
and espouse the French Interest, to that degree of
Zeal that proved so Fatal to him at last."
It may have been at Phaulcon's instigation that
ambassadors were sent to the Court of Louis XIV,
and that monarch, conceiving the project of convert-
ing the King of Siam into Christianity, sent back an
ambassador, and with him six Jesuits who were on
their way to China.
The French embassy was received with every
mark of honour at Ayuthia. To the letter of Louis
XIV, expressing the hope that the King of Siam
would embrace the Christian religion, King Narai
returned a dignified answer. After pointing out
how hard a thing it was that he was asked to do, he
continued: "After all, it is strange to me that the
King of France, my good Friend, should so much
concern himself in an Affair that relates to God,
wherein it would seem God does not at all interest
himself, but leaves it wholly to our Discretion." 1
Though unsuccessful in their mission, the various
members of the embassy formed a very high opinion
of the character of the King. Thus Father Tachard:
"The King of Siam who Reigns at present is about
fifty five years of Age. He is without contradic-
tion, the greatest Prince that ever governed that
state. He is somewhat under the middle Stature,
but streight and well shaped. He hath an engaging
Air, a sweet and obliging carriage, especially to
1 Tachard, op. tit. p. 223.
258
LOPBUBI
Strangers. And amongst them particularly to the
French. He is active and brisk, an enemy of idle-
ness and laziness which seems to be so delightful to
the Princes of the East, and which they look upon
as the greatest Prerogative of their Crown. This
Prince, on the contrary, is always either in the
Woods a hunting of Elephants, or in his Palace
minding the Affairs of his Kingdom. He is no
lover of War, because it ruins his People whom
he tenderly loves; but when his Subjects revolt,
or that neighbouring Princes offer him the least
affront, or transgress the bounds of the respect that's
due to him; there is no King in the East that
takes a more conspicuous revenge, nor appears more
passionate for glory." l
<** He appears, also, to have been no less wise than
our King Canute, for at the time of the greatest
inundation it was an old custom for the king to
strike the river with his dagger and command the
waters to retire, "But this Prince having found by
many years' experience, that the waters encreased
sometimes, for all they were ordered to abate, hath
left off that ridiculous ceremony."
A curious side-light is thrown on contemporary
European history, for a few days after the arrival of
the French embassy at Ayuthia two solemn ser-
vices were held in the Roman Catholic Church, the
one for the late Queen of Portugal, and the other for
the late King, Don Alphonso; and the coronation
of Don Pedro, King of Portugal, was celebrated
1 Op. cit. p. 227 et seq.
259
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
in the Church of the Dominicans. "The Lord
Constance was at the charges of the Obsequies and
Festivals. He would also have had a solemn Ser-
vice performed for the late King of England, 1 if he
had had certain intelligence that he died a Catholic.
He only expressed his Joy at the Coronation of the
Duke of York by Illuminations and Fireworks, which
for their Novelties pleased the French very much." 2
The Jesuit Fathers made good use of their time
in Siam, and by their observations of a total eclipse
of the moon on 21st February, 1682, they calculated
that the longitude of Lopburi was 98 32' East
of Paris, the correct difference being 98 16'. A
Brahmin astrologer at Lopburi "foretold this Eclipse
to a quarter of an hour almost; but he was mightily
mistaken as to the duration of it."
Here we take leave of Father Tachard, and for
the tragic conclusion of Phaulcon's history we must
turn to the Letters.
It was six years later, in the month of May, 1688,
that King Narai lay sick in his palace at Lopburi.
One night Phaulcon was sent for, and hurrying
across from his house he entered the palace. There,
by the orders of Opra Pitrachard, Minister of the
Household, he was seized and thrown into prison,
where he finally died under torture. Simultane-
ously all the French at Lopburi and Ayuthia were
imprisoned. It is needless to recapitulate the events
which eventually led to their release and departure
from the country, for these have been touched
1 Charles II. * Op. cit. p. 184.
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LOPBURI
upon in the Introduction. Whether the King's
end was hastened or not we cannot tell, but he did
not long survive Phaulcon. The revolution was
sharp, sudden, and complete. Its last pitiful act
is quaintly told. "Opra Pitrachard having dis-
patched the King's two Brothers, and adopted Son,
who were the only Princes that stood in his way
to the Crown, caused the young Princess, the King's
only Daughter, to be taken and thrust into a large
velvet Sack, and her Brains to be knockt out with
great Bars of the sweet and so much esteemed Wood
in all the Indies call'd Aquila and Calamboar; and
then thrown into the River, it being accounted a
prophane thing, and a violation of the Sacred Respect
due to a Princess of the Royal Blood of Siam, to be
put to Death in the usual manner that others are;
and therefore they did it with great Deference and
distinguishing Ceremonies becoming her Quality
not suffering her Royal Person to be polluted with
the touch of any vulgar Hand or Instrument of
Mortality."
261
CHAPTER XII
THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN
"Better to be bitten by a crocodile than nibbled at by a petty fish."
Siamese Proverb.
THROUGHOUT Indo-China are found the
fragments of a vast limestone formation
which, in southern Siam, rise in abrupt fan-
tastic peaks straight out of the alluvial plain. Such
an outcrop is the Prabat range, where, as on Adam's
Peak in Ceylon, a depression in the rock is venerated
as a footprint of the Buddha. To this spot thousands
of devout Buddhists make a pilgrimage every year,
in the month of February, but though the journey
can now be made by railway few Europeans have
been there. Finding that I was able to get away
from Bangkok for a few days I, too, set out to
visit the Holy Mountain. I was accompanied by
Mr. S. W. Masterman of the Survey Department,
and a casual mention of deer induced a mighty
hunter of big game, from Burma, to join our party.
We arrived at Tarua in the evening and slept
in an empty bungalow, for the little narrow-gauge
train which was to take us on to Prabat did not
leave until midday. On the following morning
we explored the neighbourhood of Tarua. Up
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THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN
here the river ran between high sandy banks fringed
with trees, while on either hand the fields were
covered with patches of scrubby jungle. It was a
relief to turn our eyes, wearied with the eternal
plains, towards the hills, whose highest point was
shrouded in mist. A mile or so from Tarua there
is a gigantic image of the Sleeping Buddha. The
building which once covered it has fallen in, and
the image itself is little more than a shapeless mass
of crumbling bricks.
Returning to the station we found our boys
busily engaged in getting our things upon the train.
They naturally approved most strongly of the
expedition, which enabled them to accumulate
much merit at small expense. Before we left, the
station-master produced small gilt copies of the
famous footprint, and with these, in an access of
generosity, we decorated our boys.
The train was a primitive affair. The first-class
carriage put on for our benefit looked like a
small copy of a coach on the old Stockton and
Darlington Railway. Our boys travelled second,
and the third-class passengers and luggage were
put in open trucks. We had an uninterrupted
view all round: of our boys in the carriage in front,
and of the third-class passengers behind. They
were a picturesque lot, with long unkempt locks
falling about their shoulders, and one of them had
a ken which he played most of the way. We had
not gone more than a mile before a brake-rod under
the second-class carriage broke, and the loose end
263
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
trailed along the line. Presently we came to a
station, and everybody crawled underneath the
carriage to look. After ten minutes' vigorous ham-
mering all the brake gear was knocked away and
we proceeded, the engine driver remarking that we
should get on better without it.
As we neared the hills we entered a dense forest,
where the great thorny bamboos made an impene-
trable barrier; yet now and then we looked down
open glades, and some huge trees seemed to push
back the undergrowth from around their feet. A
great deal of the charcoal which is used for cooking
comes from this district, where it is made out of
bamboos. The charcoal-burners' huts are perched
on the tops of thick bamboo clumps, to be out of
the way of elephants, tigers, and thieves. A bam-
boo pole, on which the stumps of the branches have
been left, serves as a ladder to climb up to this
arboreal dwelling.
In the heart of the forest we made our second
stop, at a tiny attap shed which served as a station.
Then emerging from the forest we ran along through
a strip of paddy fields at the foot of the hills. The
hills rise to a height of a little over two thousand
feet, but from their striking outline they look much
higher, and one great double-headed peak which
towers up in the background is particularly imposing.
At two o'clock we reached the village of Pra
Puttha Bat the Footprint of Buddha. The name
is generally abbreviated to Prabat. We found Mr.
N. E. Lowe, of the Survey Department, camped in
264
THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN
a curiously designed wooden structure something
between a house and a sola where he hospitably
received us. It was, he said, in this place that
coffins were placed during the three days' cere-
mony which preceded the actual cremation, but this
knowledge impaired neither our appetites nor our
sleep.
The little village was half hidden amidst gardens,
and in the market we were able to obtain Indian
corn and delicious custard apples. Close by, on the
summit of a rocky knoll, stands the shrine which
covers the sacred footprint. Image-houses cluster
around the central building, and every little eminence
is crowned by a snow-white pra chedi.
According to the legend, here once stood a high
mountain, in which was a deep cavern filled with
gold and precious stones which none might touch.
One day a band of robbers resolved to bear off the
treasure, and entered the cavern, taking with them
a great number of elephants. Having loaded the
elephants with the treasure they turned to come
out, but at the very moment when the two foremost
elephants were emerging from the cavern, the Lord
Buddha stepped upon the mountain and crushed it
down. The cavern was obliterated, but in a hollow
which marks the old entrance can still be seen quite
plainly the heads of the two elephants, turned to
stone.
A splendid triple flight of stairs leads up to the
shrine, each balustrade moulded into the form of a
serpent, and terminating in fivefold bronze heads.
265
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
The shrine itself is a spire-crowned building, with
bells for ever tinkling under the eaves, and when
the richly decorated roof reflects the sunlight it
gleams as Alabaster says "like a mass of
flames," against the dark green of the wooded hills
behind. The building is of the same type as the
structure known as a maradop, which is erected for
a cremation. A very early example of this type
may be seen at Wat Pra Tat near Ayuthia: a square
building with low-pitched pyramidal roof, whose
projecting cornices are supported by pillars. The
shrine at Prabat is of no great age, for the foot-
print itself was only discovered in the year 1602.
Entering through doors inlaid with mother-of-
pearl, we found ourselves in semi-darkness. A mat
of woven strips of silver covered the floor, and
beneath a canopy in the centre was the footprint, a
depression four feet six inches in length. The air
was heavy with incense, and all around were heaped
the tawdry gifts of the worshippers. We were
unable to see the actual rock, for a wooden case is
let into the footprint and it is lifted only when the
King makes a pilgrimage to the shrine. The ordi-
nary pilgrim is content to stick a piece of gold
leaf upon the case, to strew it with flowers, and to
place lighted candles beside it. Perhaps he also
drops a coin into a chink of the rock, and hears it
fall, none know where. So, having looked upon
the spot where the Buddha trod, he goes forth once
more into the light, and, fearful lest the guardian
angels of the place may be unheeding, he calls their
266
THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN
attention by beating upon the bells which are hung
up in little sheds around the shrine and at the foot
of the hillock. They are of all sizes and tones, and
with every breeze their sweet notes are wafted over
the hills: surely the angels must hear.
On the day after our arrival at Prabat we set out
with the intention of ascending one of the higher
peaks of the range. A dear old Siamese gentle-
man, in very ragged costume, came with us as a
guide. He might pardonably have been mistaken
for a coolie, but he was nevertheless a man of some
position, and it was necessary to address him as
"Your Excellency." Our way lay along a shady
road which wound round the foot of the hills. Pres-
ently we came to a shrine which covered an un-
familiar image, bearing a sword. It was the image
of a very powerful spirit, the "Lord of the Fallen
Mountain." This mountain, we gathered, was long
ago destroyed by an earthquake, and it was not
the same as that which was obliterated by the
Buddha. These legends of mountains overthrown
are curious, and no doubt helped to the old belief
that the range was of volcanic origin. Our coolies
waied to the image, and plucking leaves from the
trees near by, laid them on the ground before it.
Wai is the gesture of raising the joined hands.
Then, kneeling, they prayed that no harm might
befall them while within the dominions of this
spirit. A glade has been cut through the forest,
so that the shrine can be seen from the railway,
and as the train approaches the engine gives a warn-
267
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
ing whistle and slows down, in order that the pas-
sengers may wai to the image. Only on these terms
may the modern genii of iron and steam invade the
dominions of the mighty Lord of the Mountains.
Beyond the shrine we came out into paddy fields,
and here the big game hunter was momentarily
appeased by the sight of the tracks of barking deer.
On our left a high rounded hill was separated by a
narrow cleft from a lower, but much sharper, point,
and from this lower point a rocky ridge descended
straight towards us. Up this we proposed to climb,
but His Excellency assured us that to make our
way through the forest, straight to the foot of the
ridge, would be impossible. If we followed the path
it would, he said, presently bring us right below
the peak. We listened to this insidious advice and
went on. The path soon plunged again into the
forest, but after one promising turn in the right
direction it ran on and on, till it became evident
that our flanking movement was of a most extended
order. At length we began to ascend a spur, and
every now and then the coolies were called upon to
cut away the tangled undergrowth. Suddenly we
came to a cave with the King's monogram cut in the
rock above the entrance. This was so obviously
the end of our expedition that we all sat down.
The King had visited this cave two years before;
His Excellency had listened with good-humoured
tolerance while we babbled of high hills, but this
was what we really wanted to see. The old gentle-
man had made the toilsome ascent like a young
268
THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN
man, and he was so pleased with himself that no
one could utter a word of reproach.
It was too late to think of mountaineering any
more that day, and finding the stump of an old
torch, left there by some previous party, we decided
to explore the cave. As we entered the first small
chamber we were just in time to see our leading
coolie squeeze through a narrow opening, and slide
silently down out of sight. For some seconds we
waited, and then a glimmer came up from below as
he lighted our torch and called on us to follow.
Entering the narrow tunnel we shot rapidly down
over rocks glazed with stalactite, till we were brought
up on a sandy floor. Then down a steep passage,
which led to another chamber larger than the first,
with some fine stalactites depending from the roof.
Chamber succeeded chamber, always plunging deeper
down, and we were still far from the lowest cavern
when we noticed that our torch was burning low.
So we returned to the surface, and made our way
back to Prabat.
That evening a sense of our shortcoming drove
us forth once more, this time with our guns. To
my lot it fell to miss a hare, but over the picture
of the hunter of big game stalking a dove which
sat upon a bamboo I would fain draw a veil.
Early next morning His Excellency was waiting
for us, outside our camp, and though our faith in
him was shaken we felt that it would be cruel to
leave him behind. We explained to him that this
time we really meant to ascend the sharp peak
269
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
which we had seen, and with some show of enthu-
siasm he promised to lead us through the forest to
its base. After following the path for some dis-
tance we turned up a wide valley, keeping to the
dry rocky bed of a stream. The forest here con-
sisted of small clumps of bamboo, whose feathery
tops met in a thick canopy overhead, shutting out
all view of the hills. Gradually as we went on
doubt grew upon us, and as we still continued in
the same direction we became certain that our
mountain lay far away on our right. We were
even thinking of striking off through the forest
to look for it when, through an opening in the
branches, we saw a sharp rock ridge, some five or
six hundred feet above us. A proposal to ascend
this ridge, from which we could at least see where
we were, was coldly received, and His Excellency
flatly declined to attempt the impossible; but event-
ually Masterman and I with two coolies set our
faces to the slope, whilst the others continued up
the valley. Most of the coolies were to remain at
the spot where we parted, and have tea ready for
us on our return, so we left them collecting sticks.
We ascended rapidly, pushing and cutting through
the undergrowth and scrambling up rocks. When
crossing some slabs, one of our coolies pointed to
a hemispherical depression, which, he said, must
have been made by a Fee's head resting there.
As we neared the ridge the rocks grew steeper,
and on some ledges we found traces of the wild
goats which inhabit these hills. Then a luxuriant
270
THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN
growth of cactus proved the chief difficulty of the
ascent, but crawling through it as best we could,
we stepped out on the open ridge, and the view
burst suddenly upon us. All round us rose the
hills, clothed with dense forest. The peak we had
intended to climb lay across an intervening valley,
and we had reached a much lower point on a back-
bone or wall of rock. Two miles away to the north
this narrow wall ran up to the summit of a great
pillar-shaped mountain, that rose abruptly from the
plain. To the south we looked over the paddy
fields towards Tarua and Ayuthia, and through an
opening to the north-west we saw a forest-covered
plain, said to be full of game; and in the far dis-
tance a high hill called Hok Salung, or "Eighteen
Pence." Eastward the hills overtopped us, and
through the gaps we could see still higher hills
behind. On the west the range ended in the lower
hill behind which lay the village of Prabat.
A hundred yards away, a point on our ridge
seemed a few feet higher than that on which we
stood, and this point at least we determined to
reach. For a short distance we walked along the
top of the ridge with a precipice on either hand,
but then we came to a gap which separated us from
the higher point. To descend directly into the
gap seemed too adventurous, for the rocks over-
hung. We therefore retraced our steps, and found
a chimney leading down from the ridge to a narrow
ledge, which ran across the almost vertical face,
and enabled us to reach the gap. One of our coolies
271
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
could not be persuaded to cross the ledge, for he
felt that the situation offered an undue advantage
to the Lord of the Mountains, who might feel
tempted to cast us out of his domain. The ascent
from the gap on the other side was easy, but pain-
ful, owing to the extreme sharpness of the rocks.
They were split into thin flakes which rang with a
musical note when struck, and everywhere they were
curiously fluted in a vertical direction. We noticed
a few fossils, chiefly ammonites.
Having reached the higher point we agreed to
call it the summit of the ridge. It looked easy
enough to walk on to the pillar mountain, but the
sun beat down powerfully on the bare rock, and
signs were not wanting that before we reached it
we should have melted away, as icicles in mid-
summer. It was as though we stood upon the
Aiguille Sans Nom, surveying with complacency
the distant Aiguille Verte. With such parallels did
we satisfy our consciences that we had really climbed
a mountain, and as we surveyed our empty water-
bottles and our damaged hands we passed a vote
of thanks to His Excellency for having saved us
from the more arduous ascent that we had contem-
plated.
We descended directly from the foot of the chim-
ney by a series of small precipices and broad ledges,
a somewhat steeper way than that by which we had
made the ascent. Then, guided by the shouts of the
coolies, we went down the slopes till we saw the smoke
of the camp fire, curling through the bamboos.
THE PRABAT MOUNTAIN
We had not long to wait for the other section of
our party. They had ascended the ridge farther
on, by a rough path, passing on their way a cave
which contained an image of the Buddha hewn in
the rock, and to this His Excellency had pointed
as the goal of the expedition. Then we picnicked
in the woods, and afterwards returned once more to
our camp at Prabat; and so, ingloriously, ended
our attempts upon the mountains.
273
CHAPTER XIII
THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
"When Death the bitter murderer doth smite
Red roams the unpurged fragment of him, driven
On winds of plague and blight.
But when the mild and just die, sweet airs breathe;
The world grows richer, as if desert-stream
Should sink away to sparkle up again
Purer, with broader gleam."
The Light of Asia.
IN 1905 the railway was opened as far as Paknam
Po. For some years the embankment had
been completed thus far, and during this time
it formed a highway along which a considerable traffic
was carried in the dry season, when the mail launches
from Bangkok are unable to ply above Chainat,
and even small boats stick in the sandy channel.
It was in April, the driest, hottest month of the
year, that I left Lopburi, accompanied by Mr.
H. E. Spivey, of the Education Department, with
the intention of reaching Paknam Po. The railway
was not working for more than thirty miles above
Lopburi, but we were taken ten miles farther on a
construction train.
For the first part of the way the line ran through
rich paddy land, but above the last station we
entered dense bamboo and tree jungle, while the
274
THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
general dead level was varied here and there by
some slight inundation and low hills. On our left
we passed a wooded hill called Kao Toklee Polo
Hill and here, we learnt, the polo championship
of Siam was decided in bygone days. The villagers
point out a rectangular clearing on the summit
as the field of play, but the ground is so uneven
and the slope so great that one cannot but wonder
why the ancient sportsmen were not content to play
upon the plains.
It was dusk when we were set down on the
embankment at the rail head, thirty and odd miles
from Paknam Po. Our baggage was divided into
fairly heavy loads, which were slung on bamboos,
and carried between pairs of coolies. Long before
we had finished our first short stage night fell,
and even the starlight was completely shut out
by the thick trees on either hand. After walking
for two or three miles we reached a small hut in
the forest, where the engineer of this section of the
railway used occasionally to sleep out, and here we
spent the night. The coolies soon had a blazing
fire, which lit up the shadows around, and which
served both to cook our dinner and to dispel their
fears of tigers and Pees.
We were early afoot the next morning, rambling
through the cool dewy grass, while the doves and
green parrots were stirring in the trees. Once we
stumbled upon an outcrop of laterite, and it may
have been from here that the building material for
the old temples at Lopburi was obtained. When
275
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
we returned to our bivouac we had let the best of
the day slip by, but we were on a holiday and cared
for naught but the immediate present. Still, as we
trudged along the scorching embankment we more
than once regretted our late start, and in two hours
we were glad enough to rest at a collection of grass-
thatched huts, and to make trial of the cooling drinks
provided at the native restaurant. Then on again
till we reached a small village, and the hospitable
house of Mr. A. Goetz, the section engineer. Our
statement that we were on a pleasure expedition
seemed to him far-fetched, but under his able minis-
trations we quickly revived. How many coolies
had expired in conveying that bottled Bass, that
priceless hock, to this oasis, we did not stop to
inquire. Suffice it we did justice to them both. A
few nights before, our host had fought a battle
against a band of dacoits, who were attacking the
native village within a few hundred yards of his
house. He was filled with grief because he had
failed to inflict any loss upon them, and feared that
the prestige of the German army might have suffered
in consequence. The conduct of the dacoits, in
firing at him from behind ant-hills, he considered
distinctly unsportsmanlike. He assured us that he
had now levelled every ant-hill and cut down every
tree within a radius of several hundred yards from
his house, with the exception of a single large tree
behind which he intended to take cover himself on
the next occasion.
On the following day our host provided us with
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THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
ponies, and with their help we covered the remain-
ing miles to Paknam Po. In one place the road ran
through a cutting in a slight elevation composed
of quartzite. The place was called "The Hill of
Gold," but for what reason I could not learn. There
was no record that gold had ever been found there.
At various points we passed gangs of Chinese coolies,
constructing bridges over the gaps which had been
left in the embankment, as an outlet for the floods
in the rainy season. All the rough earthwork was
done by Chinese, but for the topping and finish-
ing of the sides of the embankment Laos were also
employed. Strangely enough, one of the great
obstacles to the more rapid progress of the line itself
was the difficulty of getting sleepers. They were
cut in the neighbouring forests, and paid for according
to their quality at a fixed scale, but it seemed that
no regular coolies could be spared for this work,
and the supply depended on the casual labour of
the few villagers who dwelt in that district.
These, like all Siamese, were content to cut two
sleepers or perhaps three, and then, with money in
their waist-cloths, off they would trudge to spend it
in the gambling-house at Paknam Po.
Already we saw many clearings in the jungle, and
now that the line is open this will soon become a
great rice-growing district. Every year the country
is deeply flooded, and amidst the forest rank grasses
grow up through the water; yet when we made our
journey we could find nothing to slake our thirst
save at rare intervals a coffee-coloured liquid, con-
277
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
tained in the "borrow" pits beside the embankment.
Some pools there must be, however, for elephants
are reported to be common in the forests. They
are much wilder than those on the Nakawn Nayok
side, and no attempt is ever made to include them
in the great Hunt. There is one jungle to which
all the elephants are said to go when about to die.
As to its exact position the villagers are a little
vague, but of one thing they are sure: that the
jungle is so thick and the elephants so fierce that
no man can ever go there. Moreover the place is
the abode of Pees. The story is common to all
elephant countries, and in Africa, I am told, spots
have actually been found covered with the bones of
elephants.
Paknam Po is a large floating village situated, as
its name implies, at the mouth of the Menam Po,
or, rather, at the confluence of the Menam Po and
the Menam Ping. The Menam Po is a deep silent
river, which is navigable even in the dry season
from Paknam Po as far up as the junction of the
Menam Yom and Menam Pichai. These rivers
drain the flat upper plain of the Menam and the
surrounding hilly districts, and the sudden freshets
which come down their head-waters are expended
in filling the great swamps about Pichit, which act
as reservoirs and regulate the inundation of the
lower Menam plain. At Paknam Po the rise of
the river during the rains is very much greater
than in the lower plain, for the water is confined
between high banks which, for a time, prevent it
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THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
from spreading over the surrounding country. The
floating houses rise with the river till they reach
the tops of their mooring-posts, and then, as the
flood still continues to increase, they are moved back
to lines of posts set higher up the banks. Then
when the rains are over the river gradually sinks
back into its deep bed, and the wide floating street
contracts to its former proportions.
The Menam Ping, on the other hand, is a capri-
cious torrent whose waters are drawn from a com-
paratively narrow valley. Its level often changes
several feet in a few hours, and in the dry season
it is reduced to a shallow stream meandering over
a wide sandy bed. The crews of those boats that
are compelled to make the journey to Raheng or
Chieng-Mai at this time of year spend half their
days in the water, digging out a channel with wooden
spades.
Twenty miles or so above Paknam Po an out-
crop of limestone rises sheer out of the arid plain.
It looks like some terrific dolomite, transplanted
from the Tyrol, yet every year hundreds of pil-
grims, amongst whom are old men and women,
make the ascent; here and there receiving a kindly
push up the steep rocks, and then stretching forth
a helping hand to those below. On the summit
there is a footprint of the Buddha, similar to that
at Prabat. The hill is honeycombed with caverns
which are said to extend for many miles, and like
the great caves at Pechaburi they are filled with
innumerable images.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
Not till we get to Raheng do we really enter the
hill country, but here the heavy work begins, as
the boatmen pole us up against the strong current
through narrow ravines. ome of the hills are of
striking outline, and one in particular towers up like
a slender column. To it the boatmen point, and
tell how, long ago, two angels, male and female,
were riding southward from Chieng-Mai upon a
single horse. After travelling many days they
grew faint with hunger, and the female angel dropped
off; but her companion went on, and taking a rod
he began to fish. Presently he struck a fish, and
heaved it back through the air to where she was
sitting. The fishing-rod was the mountain, and
fifty miles higher up the fish itself can still be seen,
marked on the rocks.
Down the rapids the teak logs come singly, but
at Raheng they are made into great rafts. There
are similar rafting stations at Sawankalok and
Utaradit, on the Menam Yom and Menam Pichai
respectively, and altogether about one hundred
thousand logs arrive at Paknam Po every year.
The forests are worked on leases by the Borneo
Company, the Bombay-Burma Trading Corpora-
tion, and others. Certain restrictions are imposed
to prevent the forests from being exhausted, and
the lessees pay a royalty of ten rupees on each
large log, and six rupees on each small log, that
they send down to Bangkok. The logs are inspected
and the duty collected at Paknam Po. Many logs
break adrift from the rafts, and they are stranded
280
THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
up and down the river. The penalty for defacing
the owners' marks on these stray logs is very heavy,
and probably very few of the logs that pass through
Paknam Po are wrongfully claimed. But when the
floods cover the surrounding country it is an easy
matter to float an unattached log far away from
the river, and many a profitable little sawmill in
the jungle is supplied with this stolen timber.
Almost every Siamese whom we met on our
walk along the embankment to Paknam Po carried
a gun. Any man who goes into the market with a
gun or a jungle knife is liable to arrest, unless he
keeps it well wrapped up, and in many districts
those who walk out after dark are obliged to carry
lights; yet in spite of these precautions brawls are
common, and not infrequently end in murder. The
neighbourhood of Paknam Po also enjoys an unenvi-
able notoriety for dacoity, although this species of
lawlessness is by no means confined to that part of
the country.
In some of the wilder districts bands of outlaws
retreat to the jungle, and levy a regular toll upon
the surrounding villages. The villagers appear on
the whole to regard them with good-natured toler-
ance, as long as they do not exact too much. So
far from information of their whereabouts being
volunteered to the authorities they are often shel-
tered by the villagers. I know of a case in which
the leader of such a band with a price upon his
head lived quietly in a certain village. Every
Siamese for miles around knew all about him, and
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he was related, by marriage, to half the farmers in
the district. One day the officer of the local gen-
darmerie happened to be passing through the vil-
lage, and stopped to converse with one of the village
elders. The old man let slip something which
aroused the officer's suspicions, and by close cross-
questioning he elicited the fact that a notorious
dacoit was living in the village. From the broad
grins on the faces of the officer's own men it may be
surmised that it was no news to them. In great
excitement the officer set forth to catch the dacoit,
but long before he arrived at the man's house, word
had been sent, and the dacoit had slipped away.
More serious, and far more exasperating to the
villagers, are the irregular raids or plons. On a
fine moonlight night a band of twenty or more
collect at some prearranged spot. There are some
regular robbers amongst them, but many young
fellows, no doubt, join purely for the fun of the
thing. Their object is generally to make a raid
upon their neighbours' buffaloes or bullocks, so
they march off and surround the village which they
have selected. Sometimes they are able to get
away with their booty before the barking of the
pariahs has fairly aroused the sleeping inhabitants,
but should these be more on the alert a pitched
battle takes place. They are armed only with rusty
old muzzle-loaders, and often after an hour's firing
no one on either side is hurt. This is not altogether
to be attributed to the badness of their weapons or
of their marksmanship, for the villagers are firing
THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
from behind their houses, and the dacoits are skil-
ful at taking advantage of such cover as the ground
offers. They execute concerted movements without
audible words of command, and, indeed, these mid-
night marauders probably possess greater military
instinct than any other section of the community.
One ingenious device by which they save much
time in loading, and so increase the rapidity of their
fire, is for each man to carry a number of charges
of powder and ball ready measured out, and con-
tained in short lengths of bamboo. The open end
of the bamboo is closed with a thin layer of mud,
which breaks when it is clapped upon the muzzle,
allowing the charge to fall down the barrel. After
a plon these bamboo joints may be picked up like
empty cartridges on the field of battle.
By the rules of the game, the first side that suffers
a serious casualty ought to run away, but occasion-
ally fights of a more stubborn character take place.
If the dacoits are worsted and unable to bear away
their dead, they at least endeavour to cut off the
heads of those who have fallen. By disposing of
the head they lessen the chance that the dead man
may be recognised, and so his boon companions may
return to their village, and live unsuspected.
If, on the other hand, the dacoits succeed in
driving off the cattle, the villagers speedily summon
their neighbours and organise a pursuit. In the
rainy season it is easy to follow the tracks across
the muddy fields, but let them beware lest they
tread upon sharp bamboo splinters, which the
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dacoits leave behind them. These splinters can
make a nasty festering wound in a bare foot. The
dacoits generally make for a patch of high ground
on which no marks will be left, and from this they
drive the herd out and back again on every side,
thus making a great number of tracks going and
returning, and confusing their pursuers as to the
true direction which they take. Once in their own
district the dacoits break up, and each man leads
back a buffalo to mingle inconspicuously with his
own herd. The dacoits are careful never to attack
those who would cause a big Government inquiry
to be made, and there is little doubt that they are
often hand-in-glove with the local Nai Ampurrs.
Though murder and dacoity are not uncommon
forms of crime, the death sentence is rarely passed
in Siam, and still less often carried out. Executions
are public, but not very many, even amongst the
Siamese themselves, have ever seen one; for the
place of execution is known only to a few, and in
Bangkok it always takes place at the first streak
of dawn. It was quite by chance that once, as I
was travelling far up the Bangpakong River, beyond
Pachin, I passed a boat full of soldiers with a pris-
oner in their midst, and found that the man was
to be beheaded that day at the next wot upon the
river bank. No secrecy seemed to have been
observed here, for there were more than a hundred
people assembled when I landed, and amongst them
the Governor of the district. When the condemned
man arrived he was handed over to the monks, who
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THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
spent the morning in preaching to him, but he
appeared to derive little comfort from their words.
When this was over he was allowed to ask for any-
thing that he wanted, but he only desired a little
rice. It is said that condemned men are often given
opium, but this man had none. It seems that he
had been lying in prison under sentence of death
for two years, and this delay, which is perhaps the
most objectionable feature of the whole business,
is not uncommon.
During the morning the executioners built for
themselves a little room of leafy boughs. It was
to be the "green-room" for the succeeding tragedy,
and in the centre of the stage they had planted a
bamboo, with a cross-piece about two feet from the
ground. To this the condemned man was led. He
sat cross-legged on the ground with his back to the
bamboo, and his arms, closely pressed against his
sides, were tied at the elbows to the cross-piece;
but with this exception he was left free to move.
Then one of the executioners, kneeling beside him,
filled his ears with clay and gave him lighted joss-
sticks to hold. At times, also, he appeared to
stroke the condemned man's face, almost as though
he were trying to mesmerise him, but if such were
his object it was of no avail, for the poor wretch
was quite unnerved and the joss-sticks fell unheeded
to the ground. Now the second executioner came
out, dressed in red with a red band bound round his
forehead, and carrying a sword. He advanced until
the condemned man could see him out of the tail
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of his eye, and there, some twenty yards away on
the man's right hand, he sat upon his heels, and
appeared to await the moment when he should
strike. Thereafter the condemned man kept his
head turned towards him, looking over his right
shoulder.
Meanwhile the first executioner had swiftly run
back and donned the red dress. He now entered
the wide ring of spectators almost directly behind
the condemned man, but during his stealthy advance
he kept always on his left hand. Wai-ing once to
the Governor, and then raising his joined hands to
heaven, he took his sword a long slightly curved
blade broadening towards the point, with thick
heavy back and edge keen as a razor. Then he
danced out with half-a-dozen prancing steps on
tiptoe, and stopped with one foot in the air. His
sword was held above his head, one hand grasping
the handle and the other fingering the point. So,
in a series of little rushes, varied by extraordinary
posturing and twirling his sword, he crept nearer
and nearer to his unsuspecting victim, amidst a
silence that was painful. At the end his movements
were so rapid that we could scarcely follow them.
He was well out of striking distance when there
came a quick rush, a circle of light in the air, and a
sudden jet of crimson. He had not paused for the
fraction of a second to take aim, but the head was
severed with that single blow.
When all was over the monks came out again,
and chanted over the dead man. They held a strip
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THE EDGE OF THE JUNGLE
of cotton stuff, and allowed one end to hang down
and rest upon the body. Then the body was laid
in a grave already dug near by, while the head was
stuck upon a pole and left as a warning to evil-doers,
after the good old English custom.
Beheading with a sword appears to be an excel-
lent method of carrying out the death sentence as
long as the executioner is expert, but, unfortunately,
such is often not the case. Sometimes several men
are executed together, as happened a few years ago,
after a most brazen case of plon, when in broad
daylight and within a few miles of Bangkok a party
of men entered a gambling-house, shot down sev-
eral people, and walked off with the money. In
China a single executioner will unconcernedly mow
off a whole row of heads in a few minutes, but in
Siam a separate executioner is appointed for each
man, and thus inexperienced jailors are occasionally
called upon to wield the executioner's sword. It is
scarcely surprising that they should nerve them-
selves to the unaccustomed task by drinking spirits,
and ghastly scenes have taken place.
As a rule the second executioner is not called
upon to play the part of a decoy, for the condemned
man looks at the joss-sticks stolidly enough. Only
if the executioner fears that he will look round, and
so spoil his aim, is this method resorted to for keep-
ing the condemned man's attention fixed. In the
case that I have described, I believe that the man
was really deceived, and until the blow actually fell
he thought that his executioner was sitting twenty
287
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
yards away. It is evident that this method depends
for its successful accomplishment upon the very fact
that it is seldom adopted, but in one respect it would
seem to be most merciful, for by it the condemned
man is spared the worst suspense of the last few
seconds, during which he waits in terror whilst his
executioner is creeping up behind.
288
CHAPTER XIV
THE FRAGMENTS OF AN EMPIRE
"That Splendour issuing from the Sun on high
That quickeneth and enlighteneth the World
I am. I permeate the soil, and plants
From me draw all their vital energy.
I am the Fire of Life whose molten stream
Runs in the veins of every living thing;
And I am seated in the hearts of all,
And from me Memory and its absence spring."
The Bhagavad Gita, or Song of the Lord Krishna.
THROUGHOUT the province of Nakawn Chaisi
are scattered the ruins of some of the most
ancient cities in Siam. If we were to believe
that they all flourished at the same time, it would
follow that the population of this part of the coun-
try must at one time have been vastly greater than
at present; but it seems certain that these are the
ruins of successive cities, which rose to importance
upon the river bank, and dwindled and were finally
abandoned, as the river cut for itself a new channel
and receded from their walls. The first in size, as
in point of time, was undoubtedly that great city
which stood on the site of modern Prapratom.
Here, over an area of two miles square, the ground is
covered with mounds, and if we dig down we come
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
upon bricks and square-hewn blocks of laterite.
Prapratom is now ten miles from the river, but
fifty years or so ago communication with the river
was restored, by cutting a klong. For some way
the sides of this klong are faced with blocks of
laterite, dug from the ruins. Within the last few
years a railway from Bangkok has been carried
through Prapratom, and on to Pechaburi. The
local Government offices at Prapratom are on a finer
scale than in most provincial towns; roads have
been made, and water from an artesian well laid on
in pipes, and the place is being turned into a fashion-
able resort by the aristocracy of Bangkok.
Of the ancient temples there remain only the
shapeless mounds of which I have spoken, and the
pra prangs of Prapratom and Prapratawn, which
date from the seventh century.
About the year 1860 a vast bell-shaped pra chedi
was built over the pra prang at Prapratom. This
pra chedi, which is 370 feet in height, is the largest
in the country. It is covered with golden tiles, and
when the rays of the setting sun fall upon it, it glows
like a beacon for many miles across the fields,
gladdening the heart of the wayfarer as he trudges
homeward. The pra chedi was built entirely of
bricks dug up from the ancient ruins, and thirty-five
kilometres of the railway were ballasted from the
same source. In one of the many courts of the
temple there are placed some interesting stone
carvings which were dug up during the construction
of the railway. Amongst these is a Lingam, con-
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FRAGMENTS OF AN EMPIRE
sisting of a stone trough about four feet in length,
at one end of which there was a column, but the
column is now broken. There is also a fine example
of the Chakkra, which here clearly takes the form
of a pair of chariot wheels. These casual finds
promise a rich reward to any archaeologist who
would make systematic excavations here.
Two and a half miles away from the great Pra-
pratom Pagoda is the pra prang at Prapratawn,
which can still be seen. The pyramidal base of
laterite no doubt formed part of the original struc-
ture, but the brick spire which surmounts it must
often have been restored.
There was once a King who reigned over Pra-
pratom, and to him a son was born. Great were the
rejoicings; but suddenly a gloom was cast over the
company as an unbidden guest appeared in their
midst, and prophesied that when the new-born
prince grew up he would slay his father. Thereupon
the King resolved to get rid of his son, yet he would
not have the guilt of blood upon his head, so he
caused him to be set adrift on the river in a cradle
made of lotus leaves. Yet by a miracle the cradle
floated safely, and when those who had carried
out the King's orders had gone away, the prince's
mother drew him to the bank. Then she gave him
to a woman named Yai Horn, who brought him up
in ignorance of his true birth. In after years the
prince saw that the King was a cruel taskmaster, so
he collected together a great army. With this he
returned, and having overthrown the King's army
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and slain the King, had himself crowned in his stead.
Then Yai Horn told him how he was the King's
son, and now the lawful King of the country; but he
was enraged that she should have permitted him to
commit so great a sin as to slay his own father, and
in revenge he slew her too. Then remorse overtook
him, and he built the spire at Prapratom in memory
of his father, and at Prapratawn he built a spire in
memory of his foster-mother, Yai Horn.
This is the story as the peasants tell it to this day
around Prapratom, and some miles away there is the
village of Kok Yai Horn, where they say the prince
was brought up by his foster-mother.
M. Aymonier, who gives as his authority the
Annals of the Kingdoms of the North, tells us that
the King who was slain was P'hya Kong, who reigned
at Kanburi on the Meklong in the year 1210 A.D.
The prince, whose name was P'hya Pan, grew up in
ignorance of his true birth at Ratburi. He after-
wards persuaded the chief of Ratburi to rebel against
the suzerain lord, and in the ensuing struggle P'hya
Pan killed the King, his father, in single combat.
The slaying of his foster-mother and the building of
the expiatory spires at Prapratom and Prapratawn
then took place as already described, but it is certain
that these spires are of much older date than that
given in this version of the legend.
Around the great pra chedi which now covers the
spire at Prapratom there are many image-houses.
One of these contains an ancient stone statue of the
first King of Prapratom the King who was slain by
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FRAGMENTS OF AN EMPIRE
his son, according to the legend. In another there
is a finely modelled group, of modern workmanship,
representing the baby prince floating down the river
on a lotus leaf, while his mother and foster-mother
stand on the bank adoring him.
Prapratom lies in the midst of jungly country
interspersed with plantations of bananas, green vege-
tables, and tobacco, while a coarse variety of cotton
is also grown there, and used for stuffing mattresses.
Eastward we come to the paddy fields which border
the river. On the south a great bamboo jungle
stretches to the salt marshes on the coast, and to the
north-west the country is covered with forest. A
day's march into the jungle in this last direction is
the sacred spot, Praten, where on a large slab of
rock, beneath the great trees, the people believe that
the Buddha breathed his last on earth. Buddhist
scholars from other countries may tell them that the
Buddha never set foot in Siam, but they know that
that cannot be true, for has he not left his footprint
on the Prabat Mountain?
So hundreds of pilgrims go to Praten every year,
and their own wise men, who may know the truth
of the matter, do nothing to shake their faith; for
all these things help to keep the Buddha's teachings
alive in the hearts of the people. At Praten there
are no relics of the Buddha, for after his crema-
tion there was a great fight to obtain possession of
his bones. At length a pious Brahmin quelled the
struggle and placed the bones in a golden vase,
which Pra In took up into heaven.
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
If we follow the Tachin River northward from the
mouth of the klong which leads to Prapratom, we
pass through a narrow strip of cultivation. On the
left bank the fields end, a mile or so away from
the river, in the great waste of jungle grass which
lies to the north-west of Bangkok. I was told that
there were elephants in this district, and that it
behooved one to be careful how one spoke about
them, for Pees dwelt in their ears and they could
hear all that was said. Moreover, there was one
white elephant which had been known to suddenly
disappear when men approached him, and when
next he was seen it was in quite another part of
the country. This faculty is not confined to white
elephants, for even amongst our innocent-looking
boatmen who knows but that there may be one
who can vanish at will? So at least I have been
told by Siamese.
As long as the elephants refuse to materialise
there is little to attract us on this side of the river,
but the country on the west is more interesting.
Let us leave the river again some twelve miles
north of our starting-point, and see what lies to
the westward. There is a little klong which leads
us through the paddy fields, but the reeds which
fringe its banks encroach so far upon its narrow
waters that even in a small boat the coolies are
soon obliged to give up chao-ing 9 and take to punt-
ing us along. A few miles from the river we find
ourselves in the midst of a great chain of marshes
which stretches north and south, and in all proba-
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FRAGMENTS OF AN EMPIRE
bility forms part of the old bed of the river. In
very dry seasons tiger, deer, and pig come from
the jungle farther west, to drink at these pools.
We pass one or two dilapidated fishing villages,
standing on piles in the water, and occasionally we
come to a patch of higher ground where it is pos-
sible to cultivate a few rai of paddy.
In this corner of Siam there is a large colony
of Laos, the descendants of former captives, who
maintain their own customs. We can recognise
their settlements from afar, for the houses have
wide semicircular verandahs at each end, which
give them something the appearance of beehives.
The girls, in their dark striped petticoats, look
very picturesque, and far from copying the Siamese
fashion of cutting their hair short they wear it coiled
in a pile upon their heads, in a way that would
not look out of place in a London drawing-room.
Whilst the Siamese always choose the path of
least resistance and cultivate the river banks, these
Laos seem to prefer to get back into the jungle,
where their greater energy finds an outlet in clear-
ing off the stubborn growth before they can plant
their rice.
When a young couple are about to get married
the whole village turns out, and assists to build
them a house. Then the young man gives a feast
to all his friends, and afterwards they go to fetch
the bride. In the procession they bear an ark
which contains rice, an axe, a ploughshare, and other
implements. This is to signify that the bridegroom
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
is a good worker, and able to provide for a wife.
Having arrived at his father-in-law's house, the
bridegroom seizes his bride by the hand and runs
off with her to their new home, followed by a chaffing
crowd of girls.
The canoes which are used in the marshes, both
by Laos and Siamese, are surprisingly primitive
just a section of a palm trunk, with the inside
scooped out. The bulging base of the trunk forms
the stern in which the solitary paddler sits, and so
keeps the open bow out of the water. In such a
canoe we can explore the narrow creeks and water-
ways, cut through the reeds. Sometimes we have to
find a way around a fish-trap and sometimes we are
stopped by a floating weed, which seems to skim
in little green rosettes over the surface, but which
trails a long length of root below. Often it collects
in great masses, choking up the whole of our lane,
and then there is nothing for it but to get out and
push. Our feet sink into the mud below, the weed
clings around us till it seems that we are dragging
the whole entangled mass along, and in our wake it
closes up again as solid as before.
Here and there are open spaces of water, fringed
with silvery grasses which glisten in the sunlight.
The place is the haunt of countless waterfowl. As
we paddle along, a brown cloud of teal rises from
the margin and flies away; but presently they turn
and come back straight towards us, and the air
seems to quiver with their beating wings. Or with
a hoarse cry a heron springs from the rushes, and
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FRAGMENTS OF AN EMPIRE
flaps away with his legs sawing up and down in
ungainly fashion.
A little farther on a forest of long necks appears.
We can approach quite closely, but at length a mass
of silvery white, edged with sable, surges from the
bed of reeds and with the clashing of a hundred
pinions a flock of storks mounts heavenward. At
a great height they begin to circle, slowly, still
rising till they become mere specks. But another
and another flock have followed in the wake of the
first, and they too are circling in reverse directions.
So they cross and recross each other, and we follow
them with our eyes to seemingly infinite depths
while watching the mazes of that wonderful flight.
Beyond the great marshes we come once more
to cultivation, invaded by patches of jungle. Still
farther west we enter a region of scrub bamboo, and
this at length gives place to forest. The forest belt
appears to extend north and south, and covers the
low hills which form a distinct watershed between
the Tachin River and the Meklong, in contrast to
the cup-shaped plains which separate the Tachin
River from the Menam, and the Menam from the
Bangpakong River on the east.
If the marshes really mark the position of the
old river, we should expect to find some traces of
ancient cities in their neighbourhood, and, in fact,
upon the banks of the small klong which I have
described, and in the jungly country just to the
west of the marshes, there is a place now known
as Muang Turn, where mounds of brick and laterite
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
attest the civilisation which flourished here long
before the Siamese descended from the hill country
to the plains. Farther west the natives tell of old
walled cities, now buried in the jungle. Many
temples were built in comparatively recent times,
and their remains are scattered over the face of
the country. Sometimes as we push through the
thick undergrowth we come upon an image of
the Buddha, long since forgotten, whose shrine has
crumbled into ruins around him. There he sits,
far from the eye of man, keeping his long watch
over the jungle.
Returning to the Tachin River and proceeding
northward, we come to Klong Song Pi Nong, which
flows in from the west. This is a great fishing
centre, and the water-way is almost choked with
the weeds grown to harbour fish. Upon the banks
of the klong there is a large Annamese population,
who are Christians, and the French mission has
established a little church in their midst. They do
not intermarry with the Siamese, for they are all
registered as French subjects, and the paternal
French Government imports girls from Annam to
be their wives. The French priests in Siam lead
devoted lives and never think of returning to their
own country, but, from the time of Phaulcon to the
present day, they cannot wholly be acquitted of the
charge of mingling political intrigue with missionary
zeal.
Above this point the Tachin River soon dwindles
to a shallow stream, and in the dry season the rice
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FRAGMENTS OF AN EMPIRE
boats are unable to get up as far as Supan, but
remain at a village a little lower down. There
they collect in a long line, blocking up the deepest
part of the channel, while the carts which bring the
rice drive into the shallow water and stand beside
the boats.
Supan is now no more than a collection of
thatched cottages, but the extensive ruins of old
temples show that it must once have been a great
city. The chief sight is a temple which stands a
mile from the river bank. It cannot be more than
two or three hundred years old, at the most. The
principal building is a narrow but very lofty image-
house, of the familiar type. Within, at the far end,
sits a gigantic image of the Buddha, but for a
moment we fail to grasp the full wonder of the sight,
for we must crane our heads backward in order to
see higher than his knee. He is seated as upon a
chair, and represents "The Buddha in the Jungle."
Upon the wall at his side is portrayed a kneel-
ing elephant, raising towards him an offering in
its uplifted trunk. Full seventy feet above, the
Buddha's head is dimly seen shrouded in the gloom
of the roof, amidst the wheeling bats. The image
is built of brick, and it is said that it is actually
sitting upon the stump of a huge tree (mai takieri).
At the time of the Songkran festival the monks
mount by ladders to the roof, and copious libations
of water are poured over the great image.
There are many wats in various parts of the
country dedicated to "The Buddha in the Jungle,"
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SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
but of them all this is the chief. Some monks
make a vow, which lasts for two or three years,
never to sleep under a roof unless it be in such a
wot.
In another building of this same temple there
is a large block of stone, which every pilgrim who
comes to see the famous image endeavours to lift;
but only those who have made much merit can
succeed.
Yet another shrine in Supan contains a stone
image of Siva, which is possessed of miraculous
properties, for long ago it is said to have floated
down the river from Pitsunalok, and stranded at
this spot.
Eight miles west of Supan the old town of U
T'hong, now quite deserted, stands upon a reach
of the old river which is there still navigable, form-
ing a continuation of Klong Song Pi Nong. It
is said that the city was abandoned on account of
a pestilence, and to this day it is a place accursed
and a fever of a peculiarly malignant kind is bred
there. I was unable to go myself and examine this
place, but Mr. J. Michell, of the Survey Depart-
ment, has told me that it is surrounded by an em-
bankment, similar to that at Lopburi. Within all
is overgrown with jungle, amidst which are some
artificial ponds, filled with crocodiles. The only
architectural remains are some pra chedis, which,
from their appearance, can scarcely have been built
as long ago as the time of that King TJ T'hong who
founded Ayuthia. Nevertheless, the city dates back
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to the period of Cambodian supremacy. During
his visit to U T'hong, Prince Damrong obtained
some ancient coins bearing the emblem of a conch
shell, which were said to have been dug up there.
Similar coins have been found at Prapratawn. In
the paper to which I have referred on page 26,
Prince Damrong points out that Supan, or Suvar-
naburi, and Kanburi names which can both be
translated by "The City of Gold" were probably
founded by men who came from U T'hong or Suvar-
nabhumi "The Origin of Gold."
North of Supan the Tachin River is an insignifi-
cant stream, running through rough jungly country.
On the left bank a conical hill rises to a height of
about 500 feet, and on the artificially flattened
top there stands a little temple. The walls are
built of the schist obtained from the hill itself,
and the low-pitched roof is covered with slabs
of the same material. The windows are narrow
grills, an unusual form, which may also be seen at
Lopburi.
On the opposite side of the river there are two
similar conical hills, side by side. To account for
their presence the natives tell how the King of the
country once loved a beautiful village maiden, and
bore her off to the top of the hill on which the
temple now stands; and there for a time they lived
happily together. But the idyll could not last for
ever; at length the King returned to his palace,
and for many years he thought no more of her.
One day, however, he was passing by the spot,
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when he noticed several boys playing together and
amongst them two very handsome youths. He
stopped and asked them who they were, and from
their reply he knew that they must be his own
sons. Then, pointing to the younger boys, he said,
"But who are these?" And they answered that
the boys were their half-brothers. Enraged at the
infidelity of his former love, the King sought her
out, and took her to the top of the hill. Then
drawing his sword he cut off her breasts and flung
them far away, and there they may be seen to this
day.
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CHAPTER XV
ANGKOR TOM
"They have taken with them to the grave their powers, their honours, and
their errors; but they have left us their adoration."
The Seven Lamps of Architecture.
FOUR days by sea from Bangkok brings us
once more into the track of the mail
steamers, at Saigon. This was to be my
starting-point for Angkor, for the overland route
in bullock carts is very long and tedious; so it was
from the deck of the little Donai that I saw, for the
last time, the busy Bangkok River. On the first
day out we passed Chantabun, which for many years
after the affair of 1893 was occupied by a French
garrison. Some hours later we dropped anchor off
the little town of Krat, ceded to France as a trading
station since the evacuation of Chantabun. The
next morning we stopped for a few hours at Kam-
pongsom, a pretty bay shut in by wooded hills, with
wooded islets to seaward. Three lighters came off
to the Donai, and while we were taking in a cargo of
pepper from them I went on shore. We were now
in French territory, and one of the other passengers
took me to call upon the local magistrate. He
turned out to be an enormously fat Chinaman, who
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insisted on opening a bottle of champagne for us
at ten o'clock in the morning.
During the greater part of the following day we
were out of sight of land, but late in the afternoon
we skirted a rocky coast with bold bluffs, scantily
clothed with vegetation. It was the island of Pulo
Condor, a French penal settlement. The night was
rough, and our little steamer rolled heavily in the
waves which swept straight in from the China Sea.
It was our custom to sleep on deck, in long chairs,
but on this night our slumbers were broken; for
every now and then a lurch would send us flying
into the scuppers. When day broke we were in the
Saigon River. One poor fellow who had come on
board at Kampongsom was missing, and he must
have fallen overboard during the night. The river
was crowded with small colliers, belonging to the
Russian Baltic fleet, and there, too, was the cruiser
Diana, that had made good her escape from Port
Arthur, running the gauntlet of Togo's fleet. The
Russian officers and bluejackets wore a jubilant air,
for though they might take no further part in the
struggle, they felt the near presence of the great
fleet of warships, which was even then lurking in
Camranh Bay. No premonition crossed their minds
of that fatal day, then drawing nigh, when in the
Tsu Shima Strait it was swept utterly out of
existence.
It would be hard to find a greater contrast to
Bangkok than Saigon, whose broad well-kept boule-
vards, and fine stone buildings, seem as though they
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ANGKOR TOM
had been transplanted straight from Paris to the
East. From eleven o'clock in the morning until
three in the afternoon the shops are closed, and all
the town sleeps; but at evening orchestras play in
the brilliantly lighted cafes, and on the pavement
groups of Frenchmen sit round marble-topped tables,
sipping absinthe. Pneumatic-tired 'rickshaws, of a
splendour undreamt of at Singapore, flit past, drawn
by neatly attired French-speaking Annamese; and
little Annamese boys politely offer the latest edition
of the evening paper. With these exceptions the
natives are carefully kept to their own quarter, two
or three miles away. Only when I began to do my
shopping did the glamour fade. I then realised the
fact that there is a very high tariff, and I could
obtain absolutely nothing that was not of French
manufacture.
At half-past six in the morning I left Saigon by
train, and at first we seemed to be passing through
another city of the dead for the country was
dotted all over with the innumerable graves of the
Annamese. In two hours we arrived at Myt'ho,
and went on board a river steamer. Then, for a
day and a night, we journeyed through a land of
mist and fog where the Mekong rolls its mighty
flood and so to Pnom Penh, the capital of Cam-
bodia. Everywhere I noted the same orderliness
in the towns; the white buildings, the pleasant
shaded roads, and the palaces of the local resi-
dents, erected with that lavish disregard of the
tax payer at home which alone seems to reconcile
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the exiled Frenchman to his lot. In the rainy
season the river steamer crosses the great lake to
Battambong, stopping on the way off the mouth of
the Siemrap River; but my journey was made at
the end of April, the worst time of the whole year,
and the steamer could go no farther than Pnom
Penh. There I spent a night at the comfortable
hotel, and the following day a small launch took me
on as far as Kampong Chneang. Through the
kindness of the French Resident at Kampong
Chneang, I had no difficulty in hiring a sampan and
rowers for the sum of four shillings a day. With
these I hoped to be able to cross the lake, though
everywhere I was met with discouraging reports of
the shallowness of the water at this time of year.
The sampan was hollowed out of a single trunk.
The middle part, measuring about twelve feet long
by five broad, was covered with a semicircular roof
of attap, and decked with split bamboo, while the
ends were decked with boards. Had I been mak-
ing the journey to Angkor a thousand years ago,
it would have been in just such a boat. For ballast
the bottom of the boat was lined with three dozen
bottles of drinking water, as many of soda-water,
and a goodly assortment of vin ordinaire and cham-
pagne, without which mine host at Pnom Penh
seemed to think it would be rash to venture far
from his hospitable doors. I was also provided
with a crate of chickens, a sack of bread, and fire-
wood in large quantities, while the coolies had their
bundles of rice, and for drink depended upon the
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ANGKOR TOM
river. Under the attap roof I lived and slept. My
rowers two Annamese and two Cambodians
occupied the ends of the boat, whilst my Siamese
boy and Chinese cook, whom I had brought with
me from Bangkok, stowed themselves away as best
they could.
Probably few European cooks would cheerfully
turn out a dinner of five courses while squatting
between the legs of the rowers, and with a small
fire in an earthenware pot by way of kitchen range;
but the Chinaman is wonderful.
On the second day from Kampong Chneang we
reached the Tale Sap a vast sheet of muddy water
a hundred miles in length, but at this season only
two or three feet deep. When the Mekong rises the
lake fills up to a depth of thirty feet, and then,
as the river falls, it drains out again through the
same channel. On the south the lake and the sur-
rounding alluvial plain are cut off from the coast
by a chain of hills, and on the north it is separated
from the Korat plateau by the Dong Rek range.
Of human habitation there was no sign upon
the banks; but at rare intervals we came to some
miserable fishermen's houses, standing on piles in
the lake. They only served to increase the melan-
choly of the scene, and their smell can be faintly
realised by those who know the fishing villages of
Norway. When the water rises the lake-dwellers
pull up their houses bodily, and with them retire
inland.
On every hand there were abundant signs of fish,
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and the very waters had an oily look. We rowed
past fish traps on an enormous scale, and the bam-
boo frames on which the nets are hung to dry stood
gauntly beside the villages. Here and there we
saw a fishing boat, the sail bellying feebly in the
faint breeze, whilst the Chinese crew yoked them-
selves in front and dragged it through the mud.
The sails of these boats were made of strips of the
sago-palm leaf, matted together, and the wind
found its way freely through the interstices. My
coolies rigged up a mast, to which they attached
two red blankets stretched upon bamboos. This
gave our sampan a picturesque appearance, but it
did not help us much. In the large sailing boats
the sun-dried fish are taken down the river. The
nets are manipulated from sampans, and when we
saw one of these from afar, we altered our course
and rowed up to it. Then my coolies would turn
over its silvery load, and having selected the best
and transferred them to our own boat we parted
from the fishermen with mutual expressions of
esteem, and no thought of payment. It was,
indeed, well worth a few fish to them to hear the
latest gossip from down river. Countless flocks of
pelicans were wading in rows upon the oozy slime.
The natives credit these birds with great sagacity
in their fishing operations, saying that they advance
in line, driving before them shoals of fish, until they
reach the shore. Then when the fish are flapping
helplessly on the mud, they pick them up at leisure.
The sun did not pierce the haze until midday,
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ANGKOR TOM
and at four o'clock it sank once more into the bank
of mist through which it glowed dull red, leaving
a track as of burnished copper on the grey water.
Up this track we rowed, towards the setting sun,
the blades of our oars flashing blood-red at every
stroke. We could no longer make out the faint
line of forest which fringed the margin of the lake,
and we seemed alone in the midst of that great
expanse of water. Still it was comforting to know
that in case of a squall we could simply step over-
board, for the water was scarcely up to our knees.
When night fell the coolies drove their oars into
the mud, and to them we moored our boat.
On the evening of the fourth day from Kampong
Chneang we came in sight of Pnom Krom, a hill on
which a Brahmin sanctuary stands guardian over
the entrance to the Siemrap River. We were on
the threshold of the ancient kingdom of the Khmers.
That night we reached a fishing village at the mouth of
the river, and we were once more in Siamese territory.
The next morning several bullock carts came
down to the sandy beach. The bullocks were a
fine big breed, and the carts looked very smart,
with the pole curving up in a graceful way evi-
dently intended to represent a Naga. Even in this
remote corner there was an echo of the war, for I
learnt that the people at this and many another
village along the northern shore of the lake were
afraid to send their dried fish down the river; for
they thought that the Japanese were about to sail
up it, and attack the French.
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I secured two of the bullock carts, and leaving
two coolies to look after the sampan, I set out with
the remainder of my party. At first the road led
through dense forest, which in the wet season is
almost completely submerged. Then we came to
open paddy fields, and proceeded over sandy roads
in suffocating clouds of dust to the pretty village
of Siemrap, whose groves of cocoanut trees border
the stream. Here the ingenious irrigation wheels
are for ever turned by the current, and lift the
water as they turn by means of bamboo buckets,
attached to the floats. The village straggles along
the banks for two or three miles, but at length we
reached a sala, where we rested during the heat of
the day. Near by was the citadel, surrounded by
a wall of laterite. This was built by the Siamese
after they had captured the province from Cambodia
in 1795. In the market there were current some
small copper coins, which appeared to have been
cut out of sheet copper by hand. One side was
plain, and on the other was embossed a bird, which
looked as if it had been copied from an Egyptian
cartouche.
The Siamese governor at Siemrap was delighted
to have some one from Bangkok to talk to, for he
was unused to visitors at this time of year. He
requested me to sign a book in which the names
of Europeans who come to Siemrap are recorded.
This record has been kept for the last ten years,
and now contains about six hundred names, nearly
all French. Before I left, the Governor lent me
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ANGKOR TOM
one of his officers Luang Mon Sri Senha. This
man proved of the greatest service, for all the
natives speak Cambodian, and he translated into
Siamese for me. He showed a most intelligent
interest in the ruins, and of each he had some inter-
esting story or legend to tell. We became very
friendly, and at parting he gave me a budding
stag's horn, which he assured me was an infallible
charm.
In the afternoon we went on through a forest of
fine trees. Often a bough would suddenly bend
and spring back, and looking up we caught sight of
monkeys, running through the tree-tops. In little
over an hour the carts were clattering across the
stone causeway, which spans the wide moat of the
Nakawn Wat. From below ascended a pleasant
tinkling of wooden cow-bells; in front the evening
sun shone on the old stonework of the entrance,
black with lichens and bowered in venerable trees,
whilst through the low square doorway we caught
a glimpse of sunlit space beyond. Then as we
mounted the steps to the doorway, full in front, but
still at a great distance, rose the central tower of
the Wat standing out against the blue sky, a
marvel of richness and beauty. From the outer
wall the causeway leads straight for a quarter of a
mile to the building, and there in the shadow of
the Wat itself I made my camp. The monks'
houses cluster around the temple, and all day long
and far into the night the sound of the old Pali
chants rises about the sacred pile.
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And now, having brought the reader into the
presence of one of the world's masterpieces, I can
only hope to convey to him a very imperfect sense
of its beauty. But before I make my poor attempt,
let it be understood that this temple of Angkor
differs even in its conception from our cathedrals.
Consider what a cathedral is. It is essentially a
house, in which men may gather together; and so its
chief glory is its interior, with the lofty spring of
arches, and stained glass seen amidst the tracery of
windows. That the exterior of a great cathedral may
be as worthy of our admiration as its interior is true,
but the care bestowed upon the exterior was, in
some measure at least, an after-thought. But the
most wonderful buildings of the East were intended
to bear witness to all who looked upon them, even
from afar, and so we have the Taj Mahal, inspired
by love, and the Angkor Wat, inspired by a fervour
of piety, stands simply to the glory of God. The
Taj is a vision of foam, caught in the master's mind
and recorded in marble, but the builders of Angkor
wrought in stern grey stone, in lines "wonder-
fully strong, yet full of moderation." Egyptian
in its massiveness and unsurpassed in the purity
of its lines by the finest works of Greece, it stands
to-day, and is, perhaps, destined to remain, the
noblest monument raised by the hands of man.
The main design is of an admirable simplicity.
Three rectangular terraces, surrounded by covered
galleries, are superimposed. From the corners of
the two last spring pyramidal towers, which, by
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ANGKOR TOM
their symmetrical grouping, lead the eye up to the
central tower on the last and highest stage. The
impression of height is greatly enhanced by the
treatment of the different stages. The lowest is
surrounded externally by a corridor, whose massive
columns, well spaced, seem to bear up the whole.
Above this the horizontal lines of the various gal-
leries, retreating one above the other, are unbroken
by any opening, till the final stage is reached. This
stage rises high above the rest, and here the ver-
tical motif interrupted far below is resumed;
for the blank wall is pierced by a continuous row of
windows, filled with columns so delicately turned
and so closely placed together that they have almost
the appearance of lace. But as in a sonata-move-
ment the composer weaves together his two motives,
so here the upright lines of the lowest columns are
carried on, and faintly suggested, in the flutings into
which the roofing of each gallery is broken. Then
the first simple notes are repeated and elaborated,
in the more complex forms above, and finally the
scattered threads are all gathered together, and
swell into the grand harmony of the spires overhead.
The terraces, which in their dimensions rival the
palace mounds of Assyria, are constructed of blocks
of laterite; but the whole of the building itself is of
a fine-grained sandstone. From the causeway a
short flight of steps leads to the external gallery,
which runs completely round the building. This is
the celebrated gallery of bas-reliefs, through which
we may walk for more than half a mile. Of its
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internal face there is not a square inch that is not
finely chiselled. The bas-reliefs occupy a height of
about seven feet, while the remainder of the surface
is enriched with decorative designs and the figures
of angels and deities. The bas-reliefs are carved
upon blocks measuring two feet by eighteen inches,
but so perfect is the fitting that it is with the utmost
difficulty that the joints can be detected. For the
most part the subjects are taken from the Ramayana,
and are executed with great spirit. Chariots and
spearmen are mingled in inextricable confusion;
here are men fighting with sword and buckler; there
a horse is stumbling to his knees, and beneath
these stirring battle scenes we see a stately march
of warriors. Nor do we find one stereotyped face,
but, on the contrary, the most diverse racial types
are portrayed.
To the wheels of the chariots Fergusson draws
especial attention, as showing the high state of
civilisation attained by the Cambodians. The
wheels are so light that they must have been
made of metal, and he contrasts them with the
clumsy wheels of the Roman chariots, and the
utter barbarism of those represented in Indian
sculptures.
One detail that is of interest is the manner in
which the archers are shown drawing their arrows,
between the first and second fingers, as may also
be seen in Assyrian bas-reliefs; and, indeed, the
bas-reliefs at Angkor seem altogether Assyrian in
character. Like the Assyrian reliefs they were once
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ANGKOR TOM
painted; red, brown, and gold being chiefly employed,
but the colours have been almost completely worn
away, leaving bare the polished stone. Mr. Thom-
son believes that the scheme of the gallery was
completed by a richly-decorated wood ceiling, of
which he found some traces. In the eastern face
of the gallery there is a large inscription, cut upon
a slab, but this bears a date corresponding to 1702
A.D., and it is written in a character which differs
little from the Cambodian in use at the present
day.
From the gallery of bas-reliefs we ascend to the first
court, which is crossed by two colonnades, at right
angles. Each colonnade consists of four rows of
square columns. The columns of the two outer
ranges are connected by tie-beams with those of the
inner ranges. The outer columns are monoliths, but
the inner columns appear to be jointed at the point
where the tie-beam is inserted. The inner columns
support an architrave and sculptured frieze, above
which the roof rises in a sharply-pointed arch to a
height of thirty-five feet from the pavement. The
roof consists of massive blocks of stone, increasing
in size and overlapping as they mount towards the
apex, where they finally abut. The interior surface is
planed to the shape of an arch, and where the two
colonnades intersect a quasi-Gothic effect is pro-
duced. Externally the roof is moulded to a gra-
cious curve. Such is the construction pursued
throughout all the galleries, and though not to be
compared with a true arch, this marvellous roofing,
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whose weight must be measured in tons upon every
supporting column, has withstood the test of a decade
of centuries.
With the exception of sixteen clustered columns
on the topmost stage, all the columns in the build-
ing are square. Those of the gallery of bas-reliefs
and of the colonnades that cross the first court are
without bases, and have no perceptible upward
diminution. In all the galleries that surround the
courts internally, the columns are of the Roman
Doric order, but with capitals and bases showing
greater elaboration than in classic examples.
At the end of the colonnade that runs east and
west we ascend once more, and so reach the second
court. From this a splendid staircase, forty feet in
height, leads up to the final stage. This is sur-
rounded by a gallery and crossed by four colonnades,
which abut on the four sides of the central tower.
Beneath the central tower is a small chamber, now
walled up. We do not know to whom the temple
was originally dedicated, though it was probably
to some Brahminical deity, but in modern times
images of the Buddha have been placed around
this shrine.
On every hand we see the same profusion of
sculpture; every doorpost is a masterpiece, the
splay of every window is carved with the most
loving care, and deities and sevenfold serpents riot
over the towers. Nor do we anywhere find mechan-
ically-executed ornament, no "doggerel ornamenta-
tion" as Ruskin terms it, but only designs which,
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ANGKOR TOM
while they observe a cadence, show "perpetual
variation and transgression of the formal law." l
Reflect, too, that every stone in the whole vast
edifice has been squared and planed so truly that
it rests upon its neighbours without cement of
any kind, yet in perfect stability. Nowhere is the
beauty of the workmanship more striking than in
the windows. Each window contains seven small
pillars, whose height is roughly five feet, whilst
they are only six inches in diameter. We should
expect to find sockets made for these pillars, in
order to allow for slight irregularities in length;
but not so. They are cut to the exact length re-
quired, and there they remain, each bearing its
just proportion of the weight. In truth, the Lamp
of Sacrifice burnt brightly when the old Cam-
bodians built.
In the Introduction I have set forth some of the
views which are held as to who the builders were.
I will here only add that M. Aymonier who speaks
with the authority of the inscriptions which he has
deciphered tells us that the Nakawn Wat was
begun in the year 1090 A.D., and though the actual
building must have taken many generations, he
believes that it was the personal masterpiece of a
Brahmin, Divakara, who during several reigns was
the possessor of limitless power. 2 In 1373 A.D.
Angkor was overthrown by the Siamese, who, it
is said, led away ninety thousand Cambodians into
1 Modern Painters, vol. iv. p. 281.
2 Aymonier, Le Cambodge, vol. iii. p. 514.
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captivity. The Nakawn Wat was then on the
verge of completion, yet it was never actually fin-
ished, for the capitals of some of the pillars remain
rough and uncarved blocks of stone.
To the Siamese it is clear that the great Wat
could only have been built by angels. The Cam-
bodian monks, however, while admitting angelic
agency, endeavour to give a historical basis to their
story, which runs as follows:
In the one thousand and eighteenth year after
Buddha's Nirvanah (475 A.D.), the king Praket
Mala reigned over Angkor Tom, and by his ex-
traordinary merit he was enabled to ascend to the
heaven of Indra during his lifetime. He besought
Indra to allow him, when he returned to earth, to
build a temple whose walls should be of gold. To
this Indra would not consent, but he gave permis-
sion that an angel should be born again upon earth,
and the temple was to be built as this angel should
direct. So the angel was born, and under the name
of Chao Chet To Ku Ma he built the Nakawn Wat.
He was assisted by five hundred artificers, and so
great was his merit that he had only to express the
desire for a surface to be covered with sculpture
and it was so. The five hundred artificers were,
besides, no ordinary mortals. In the stones can
often be found pairs of round holes, a few inches
deep, and, the monks say, these titans were accus-
tomed to lift the stones, and place them in posi-
tion, by their thumbs and forefingers inserted in the
holes.
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ANGKOR TOM
When the building was finished, Chao Chet To
Ku Ma and his five hundred workmen immediately
became angels once more. There was at this time
a very holy Brahmin, named Pra Puttha Kosa, who
lived at Pnom Penh; and for him Praket Mala sent,
and gave the Nakawn Wat into his care.
It may be noted that the stone for the building
was obtained from quarries fifteen miles away to
the north-west, and they are called the quarries of
Mala, or Melea.
The Nakawn Wat stands without the old Royal
city of Angkor Tom. The walls of Angkor enclose
a space of five square miles, and from the temple
to the nearest gate it is rather more than a mile.
For purposes of photography I was anxious to catch
the early morning light, so it was an hour before
the dawn that I left my camp, and set out along
a road tunnelled out of the thick jungle. Great
boles cast dancing shadows in the smoky glare of
our torches, and giant creepers reached down
towards us, out of the blackness overhead. In less
than half-an-hour we passed under a tremendous
stone portal. Within the wall rank jungle and great
trees flourished as without, but at length we came
to a clearing, and there, before us, lay the ruins of
mighty Angkor, mysterious beneath the tropical moon
and peopled with the ghosts of a forgotten race.
Nor was the coming day to break the spell.
Slowly the collection of walls and towers took
shape, and then, as the first red beams struck
athwart the jungle, from every tower looked out
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to the four quarters of heaven a face, stamped with
the wisdom of ages. It was the temple of Baion.
Many of the towers are overthrown, and trees grow
in the crevices of the great blocks, but enough
remains for us to form some idea of what it once
was. It is a gloomy shrine, yet the sixty towers
regularly grouped about the central pyramid must
have produced an indescribably grand effect.
Beneath the massive ruins of the upper terraces an
external gallery recalls the verandahs of the rock-cut
temples of Ajunta. As at Nakawn, this external
gallery is lined with bas-reliefs, but their execution
here is poor in comparison. The towers with their
fourfold faces are really so many gigantic images
of Brahma, and this attempt to incorporate the
sculpture in the general architectural design is of a
distinctly Hindu character. At the Nakawn Wat,
notwithstanding the lavish employment of sculpture,
there is nothing in its use that would offend the
taste of classic Greece.
In the centre of the city is the palace wall, of lat-
erite blocks, beautifully fitted and in good preser-
vation. Save for a small shrine there are no traces
of buildings within this enclosure, for the Cam-
bodians reserved their best work for their religious
edifices. Near by stands the great pyramid of
Bapoum, scarcely inferior to Baion in size, and
there, too, is the arena in which combats of wild
animals took place. All these I visited, and on
my return I climbed to the top of the hill, Pnom
Bakheng, which stands beyond the city wall. It is
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ANGKOR TOM
crowned by a sanctuary, and of old looked down
upon all the cities of the plain. Their remains,
now buried beneath the forest, are scattered far
and wide over the surrounding country.
Of the founding of Angkor Tom tradition has
much to say. I will here set it down as it was told
to me, only pointing out that the "Leprous King"
is a semi-historical character, who lived long after
the founder of Angkor with whom he is identified
in the legend.
Long before there was any such kingdom as
Siam, the King of the Laos reigned at Nakawn
Indapat-Buri. He had ten sons, of whom the eldest,
Pra T'hong Rat Koma, while still a child, deter-
mined to carve out a fortune for himself; so with ten
thousand followers he set forth. At length they
came to the Tale Sap, and there the prince deter-
mined to build for himself a city. In two years it
was finished, and became the great city, Angkor
Tom. Now there was a beautiful nymph the
daughter of a Naga king who dwelt underground;
but about the time that the building of Angkor
Tom was completed she ascended into the upper
air and dwelt in the town of Bari. There, when he
was fifteen years old, the young King of Angkor
met her, and took her back with him as his wife.
They had one son, Chao Butom Suriwong, who
was the father of that Praket Mala who built the
Nakawn Wat.
Of Pra T'hong Rat Koma many stories are
told. It is said that, like his grandson, he wished
321
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
to make the walls of his palace of gold; but the
god Indra, who seems to have been determined
to save the family from extravagance, would not
permit it.
In his later years this King was afflicted with
leprosy, some say because he had abandoned snake-
worship, the old religion of the country. He is
always known as the "Leprous King," and his
statue, carved in stone, may be seen near the
palace.
A learned Brahmin offered to cure him of his
malady; but first it was necessary that he should
be killed, and thrown into a caldron of boiling
medicine, from which he would emerge alive and
clean. The King refused to believe in the Brahmin's
power, but the Brahmin took a dog, which he killed
and threw into. the boiling caldron, when it imme-
diately jumped out and frisked about. Still the
King doubted. Thereupon the Brahmin offered to
slay himself, and he gave the King three drugs
which were to be thrown successively into the cal-
dron. The first would give form to the dead body;
the second, beauty; the third, life. Then the Brah-
min flung himself into the boiling medicine, but the
King, forgetful of his instructions, threw in all the
three drugs at once, and the Brahmin was changed
to a stone statue.
On the last two or three nights that I remained
at Angkor there were heavy storms. When the
time came for my departure I sent to Siemrap
for bullock carts. They arrived late one evening,
ANGKOR TOM
and the next morning we set out upon the return
journey. At Siemrap I laid in a large supply of
green cocoanuts, which proved very valuable, as
my stock of drinking water ran low. I had filled up
all the bottles before starting, but in a few days I
found that the water in most of them was bad. A
week had changed the roads into a morass, in which
the carts sank up to the axles. Sometimes they
lurched in an alarming manner, and seemed about
to tip over; but though the body of the cart is nar-
row the wheel base is wide, and they always righted.
At one place, where we forded the river, three otters
were busily engaged in catching fish. At length
the carts could go no farther and we were forced to
transfer the baggage to a canoe, in which we paddled
down the river to the sandy beach, where the sam-
pan awaited us.
The following morning we rowed out once more
upon the great lake. The rain had dispelled the
haze, and under a clear blue sky the rich brown
sheet of water was flecked with the white sails of
little skiffs, which span merrily along in the stiff
breeze. But in the afternoon we were ringed about
with storms. Only here and there did the black
lowering clouds lift near the horizon, permitting a
glimpse of luminous opalescent sky and far-distant
hills.
Adverse winds delayed our return, and at the lower
end of the lake we found that the water had fallen,
leaving a dreary waste of mud through which one
narrow lane led to the river beyond. Rows of fishing
323
SIAM: THE LOTUS LAND
boats were stuck in the channel, and round these we
had to go, the coolies digging out a way with their
hands through the mud and painfully towing the
boat along. It was long past midnight on the fifth
day when we wearily crept into Kampong Chneang,
and there returned once more to civilisation.
324
INDEX
ADMINISTRATORS of Siamese Govern- Brahminism, 9, 63, 82, 110, 112.
ment, 56.
Ad valorem tax, 48.
Age of Bronze, the, 7.
Agriculture, 62, 185, 188, 223, 295.
Altitude, 2.
Ancestor worship in Buddhism, 117-
119.
Anghin, resort, 220, 223.
Angkor Tom, significance of name, 13;
kings of, 16; tradition of its found-
ing, 320.
Angkor Wat, famous temple of, 312.
Animals, wild, 2, 5, 224, 236, 268, 295;
domestic, 46, 208.
Appeal, Court of, 66.
Archaeology, 290, 301.
Architecture, 11-20, 157, 251-255, 312.
Art and architecture of Siam, 156-176.
Aymonier, M., 10, 11, 14, 292.
Ayuthia, ancient and modern, 25,
229-234.
BAION, temple of, 320.
Ban Rong Lao, village of, 203.
Bangkok, description of, 33-53; popu-
lation of, 50; river, 33-34, 303.
Betel nut, habit of chewing, 44, 212;
cultivation of, 47.
Birds and water-fowl, 211, 213, 296,
308.
Boats of Siam, 33, 38, 41, 177, 296,
306.
Boundaries of Siam, 1, 30, 31.
Brahma, 84.
Brahmins, caste origin, 92, 102.
Bridges, ancient, 14; new, 46; trestle,
206.
Bronze, art of, 161, 163.
Brotherhood of the Yellow Robe,
122-144.
Buddha, the, 84, 92, 101-105, 107,
163, 233, 234, 263, 299.
Buddha in the Jungle, the, 299.
Buddhism, its introduction, 14, 18;
history and beliefs, 63, 82-121.
Buddhist parable, ancient, 93.
Buddhist pilgrimage, 262.
Budget, yearly, 68.
Building. See Architecture.
Burmese invasion of Siam, 29.
Businesses of Bangkok, 50.
CALENDAR of Siam, 23, 109.
Cambodia, a Protectorate declared by
France in, 30.
Cambodians, race of the, 10, 11, 14,
16, 18.
Camp life in Siam, 203-226.
Canals, importance of, 5, 186; of
Bangkok, navigation in, 38, 39,
178.
Capitals, ancient, of Siam, 3, 19, 21,
22, 23, 25.
Capitation tax, 75.
Caravan route from the Red Sea to
the Nile, 9.
Carts, 193.
Cats, Siamese, 220.
325
INDEX
Cattle of Siam, 194, 210.
Celebration of the King's birthday,
136.
Chakkra, the sign, 103, 291.
Champas, first great Kingdom in
Indo-China, 8.
Charcoal district, 264.
Charms, Siamese belief in, 7, 145-155,
244.
Children, Siamese, 42, 43.
China, Siamese manufacture of, 159.
Chinese, employment of, in Bangkok,
33, 62.
Chino-Siamese relations, 26.
Cholera epidemics, 51.
Christianity in Siam,. 94.
Chulalongkorn, King, his character
and reign, 58.
Classes hi Siam, 61.
Climate of Bangkok, 50.
Cock-fighting, 217.
" Common Era," date of, 23.
Conscription in the army, 76.
Conveyances, public, 34, 52, 184.
Cooking of Siam, 39, 177, 307.
Coolies, Chinese, 33, 182, 277.
Costume of the Siamese, 37, 38, 40,
171, 295.
Courts, provincial, 66.
Cremation of the dead, 142.
Cultivation of the soil, 2, 223.
Currency, the old, 164; the new, 164.
DACOITS, 186, 187, 276, 281-284.
Damrong, Prince, 59.
Dancers, Siamese, 173.
Dead, cremation of, celebration at,
142-144; spirits of the, 145.
Death sentence, execution of, 284-288.
Decoration, art of, 157, 169, 171.
Deer, 268.
Deserters from the army, 70.
Diseases, 51, 80, 300.
Dress. See Costume.
Dutch, their relations with Siam, 26,
27.
EDUCATION Department of Siam, 64.
Elephant Hunt, 236, 238-245.
Elephants of Siam, 236-238, 277.
"Emerald Buddha," the, 160.
Entertainments, public, 136, 172.
Ethnological facts, 6-12.
European influence on Siamese Gov-
ernment, 57, 79.
Exports and imports, 48, 49.
FAIR, annual, 135.
Farmers, 186, 189.
Farming instruments, 189.
Festivals, religious, 131-134, 137.
Fire protection, absence of, 52.
Fish, methods of catching, 199, 200,
308; varieties of, 201.
Fishing industry hi Siam, 180, 199,
219, 298, 308.
Floods, 4.
Flora of Siam, 42.
Food of the Siamese, 39, 45, 210, 212.
Footprint of Buddha, 104, 262, 264,
265, 279.
Foreign relations of Siam, 26, 27, 30,
31, 58, 79.
Forests, 270, 297.
Fortifications, 49.
France, foreign relations of, with Siam,
27, 28, 30, 31, 79, 258.
Fruit-cultivation, 47.
GAMBLING monopolies, 69, 70, 203.
Games of chance, 217.
Garden-land, taxation of, 48.
Gharry, a carriage, 34.
Gift giving, 141.
Gilding, art of, 160.
Goetz, Mr. A., 276.
326
INDEX
Gold standard, provision for a future,
71.
Gold vessels, 171.
"Golden Chersonese," the, 9.
"Golden Mount," the, 36.
Gopura, architectural feature of , 13,15.
Government of Siam, 56-60.
Governor of Ayuthia, 230, 231.
Great Britain, treaty of commerce
with Siam, 30.
Gulf of Siam, 4.
HAREMS, 65.
Holiday, national, 240.
Home-life in Siam, 42, 45, 183, 212.
Horse-races, 215.
Hospitality in Siam, 212.
House-building, 220.
Houses, 35, 39-41, 42, 45, 265, 295.
Hunting, 224.
IMAGES, various processes of making,
160-163.
Images in religion, 106-111.
Implements of stone, 6.
Indapat-Buri, significance of, 15.
Indian settlements on the Mekong, 9,
20.
Indo-China, ethnology of, 7-12; pres-
ent inhabitants of, 7; ancient in-
scriptions of, 11.
Industries, 293.
Infant mortality, 80.
Inscriptions, ancient, 11, 15, 19, 24.
Insects, 204.
Iron, use of, 164.
Irrigation, 80, 187.
JACQUEMYNS, Rolin, 59.
Japanese colony at Siam, 26.
Jewellery, Siamese fondness for, 171.
Joss-house, Chinese, 35.
Judicial Commissioners, 66.
Jungle country of Siam, 1, 185, 213,
229, 274, 277.
KAMBUJAS, "Sons of Kambu," race
of, 10.
Karens, race of, 7.
Khas, race of, 7.
Khmer s or Cambodians. See Cam-
bodians.
King Chulalongkorn, 58.
Kite-flying, means of gambling, 218.
Klongs or canals, 38, 41, 196, 199, 214.
Kuis, race of, 7, 10.
LABOUR of the people, 75, 78, 196
232, 239, 277.
Lacquer work, 157, 162.
Land of Gold, the, 9.
Land Registration Act, 73.
Land tax, 48, 70, 185, 196.
Language, Siamese, 11, 22, 23.
Laos, race of the, 2, 3, 16, 22, 30, 295.
Law, Courts of, 66, 67.
Law of succession to the throne, 60.
Lawas, race of, 7.
Laws, ancient, 65.
Legendary history, 10, 15, 23, 25, 265,
267, 280, 291, 301, 318, 321.
"Leprous King," the, 321.
Limestone formation, 262, 279.
Liquor, manufacture of, 223.
Lopburi, ancient town of, 249-261.
"Lord of the Fallen Mountain,"
shrine of the, 267.
Lotus, emblem of Buddha, 117.
Love charms, 148, 151.
Lowe, Mr. N. E., 264.
Lumber trade, 280.
MALAYS, race of the, 8, 22.
Mail steamer, 204.
Manners and customs, 39, 42-45, 55,
69, 74, 122, 123, 135-144, 148, 152-
155, 203, 305.
327
INDEX
Mans of Tong-King, race of, 8.
Market-gardens, 46-48.
Markets, 45.
Marriage law and custom, 64, 65, 142,
295.
Mekong River, 9.
Men,* dress of. See Costume.
Menam Chao P'hya, chief river of
Siam, 3, 19.
Militia, organization and character
of, 76-78.
Missionaries, Christian, 63.
Monasteries, 64, 123-134, 180, 181.
Monkeys, legend concerning, 224.
Monks, Siamese, 38, 41, 61, 123-132,
180.
Monuments, 11, 18.
Morality, 123.
Mosquitoes, protection against, 42,
180.
" Mother of Waters," the, 3.
Motherhood, 137.
"Mount of Gold," famous, 235.
Music of Siam, 174-176.
Musical instruments, 174-176.
Mythology, Siamese, 113.
NAGAS snake, symbolism of, 113-115.
Nakawn Wat, architectural remains
of, 12, 317, 319.
Narai, King, reign of, 27, 28, 60, 258,
260.
Navigation, means of, 5, 33, 38,
280.
Navy, 78.
"Niello" ware, ancient manufacture
of, 169, 170.
Norman, Sir Henry, 72.
Nunneries, 85.
OCCULTISM, 152.
Opium monopolies, 69, 70, 203.
Outlaws, 281.
PADDY-FIELDS, 37, 182, 224.
Paknam Po, village of, 278.
Palaces of Siam, 251.
Panung, a Siamese garment, 37, 38,
40, 171.
Paper Currency Department, 71.
Pawnbrokers' Act, 70.
Pees, the spirits of the dead, charms
against, 145.
Pepys, Samuel, his Diary quoted, 247.
Phallic worship, 120, 121.
Phaulcon, Constantine, Minister, life
and works of, 27, 251, 255.
P'hya Tak Sin, King, reign of, 29.
Pilgrimage to the footprint of Bud-
dha, 262, 293.
Pineapple cultivation, 209.
Pitrachard, Opra, usurper of the
throne, 28, 261.
Police of Bangkok, 52.
Polo Hill, 275.
Polygamy, 65.
Ponies, Siamese^ 215.
Population of Siam, 62, 80, 298.
Pottery, decorative, 158, 159.
Pra Chao U T'hong, King, 25.
Pro Chedis, 117-120, 290. See Pra
prang.
Pra prang, architectural feature of,
99, 119, 290. See Prang.
Pra Rama, demigod, 111.
Pra Ruang, legendary hero, 23, 24.
"Pra Torani," Angel of the Earth, 99.
Prabat Mountain, the, 262-273.
Prang, religious edifice, 12. See Pra
prang.
Prapratom, ancient city of, 289; mod-
era city of, 293.
Prisoners, sentences of, 67.
Proto-Malays, race of the, 8, 10.
Public buildings, 36, 229.
Public officials of Siam, 56.
Punishments of prisoners, 67, 284.
328
INDEX
RAILROADS, progress of, in Siam, 72,
249, 274, 290.
Railways, 227, 249, 263.
Ramakien (Ramayana), great Hindu
epic, 111.
Rank, titles of, 61.
Religion of Siam, 63, 82-95, 123.
Religious emblems, 113.
Religious superstitions, 145-155.
Revenue of Siam, 68, 69.
Rice, cultivation of, 185. 188-194.
Rice boats, 177.
Rice-mills, 49.
'Rickshaws, 34.
Rites, ancient Brahmin, 138.
Rivers of Siam, 3, 9, 19, 178, 278, 294,
303.
Roads, 52, 73.
Rongs, race of, 7.
Rua chang, ferry boat, 38, 40.
Ruins of ancient cities, 289, 300.
SAIGON, city of, 304.
Saints. See Images.
Sakai, race of, 7.
Sampans, description of, 41, 306.
Sanitary conditions, 45, 51.
Sanscrit, ancient, 11.
Sawankalok china, 159.
Sayama, derivation of, 23.
Schools of Siam, 64.
Second King, office of, 61.
Semangs, race of, 7.
Serfdom, system of, in Siamese king-
dom, 75, 76.
Shops in Bangkok, 35, 39, 40, 45.
Siam, boundaries, 1, 30, 31.
Siam, ethnology of, 6-8, 17, 20.
Siamese race 22, 55-57, 77-81; early
language of, 22, 24; artistic
achievements of, 156-176.
Siemrap, 323.
Silks, sale of, 171.
Silver, free coinage of, prohibited by
Royal Siamese Treasury, 71.
Silverware, modern, in Siam, 170.
Singapore, settlement of the Tai-
Shans in, 22; modern city of, 33.
Siva, 84, 111, 121, 300.
Slavery in Siam, 73, 74, 232.
Sleeping Buddha, image of, 263.
Smoking among young boys, 43.
Snake worship, symbolism in, 113-115.
Snakes in Siam, species, 207.
Snuff, custom of taking, 44.
Soldiers of Siam, 76.
Spivey, Mr. H. E., 274.
Sports, Siamese, 218, 238.
Sri Vijaya, first important capital,
19.
Stone Age, the, 7.
Stone implements, discovery of, 6.
Sukot'hai, capital of, 24.
Supan, decline of, 299.
Survey Department, work of, 197.
Surveyors, Siamese, 79, 197.
Swords, beauty of Siamese, 165, 166.
Symbolism in religion, 113-121.
TACHARD, Father, his historical works
quoted, 54, 66, 154, 246, 250, 258.
Tachin River, 298, 301.
Tai-Shans, race of the, 20, 22, 23.
See also Siamese and Laos.
Tale Sap, great lake of, 8, 9, 307.
Tatacut, 215.
Tattooing, in the army, 75; as a
charm, 150.
Taxation, 68, 70.
Tea, wild growth of, 2.
Teak trade, 3, 280.
Temples, architecture of, 11-20, 251-
255, 312; Siamese decoration of,
156, 160.
Temples, Buddhist, 96-101, 252, 266;
Cambodian, 13, 18; Indian, 20.
329
INDEX
Theft, a national crime, 69.
Tical, value of, 72.
Titles, hereditary, 61.
Tonsure or top-knot ceremony, 43,
138-141, 153.
Trades in Siam, 38, 40, 45.
Trading, articles exchanged in, 3, 48.
Traditions. See Legendary history.
Transportation, 5, 6, 33, 34, 177.
Travelling in Siam, 52, 177, 182-184,
227-235, 263, 274, 306, 310.
Treasury, Royal Siamese, 71.
Treaties of peace, 30.
Tree- worship in Siam, 116, 117.
U T'HONG, city of, 300,
VACCINATION, success of, 80.
Vegetables grown in Siam, 223.
Vessels, absence of merchant, 49.
Village government of Siam, 59.
Vishnu, 84, 111, 121.
"WAN PRA," the Buddhist Holy Day,
74.
Water supply, 51, 190.
Wats in Siam, 180, 299.
Weapons, 167, 169, 212.
White elephant, an ancient, 246.
Women, dress of. See Costume.
Wood-carving, 157.
Worship, forms of, 86, 96, 99, 105. 181,
330
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