FOOTNOTES:[48]For the following statements I am indebted to the late king, who very kindly furnished me with a copy of the Siamese "Slave Laws," from which these pages are translated, as if the system still existed.[49]A tical may be valued at from fifty to sixty cents of the Spanish dollar.[50]The Siamese months are lunar months; each is divided into two parts, i.e. Khang Khun and Khang Ram, waxing and waning moon. Six of the months have thirty, and six twenty-nine days. To compensate for the deficiency of the eleven days which are required to make a full solar year, they have an intercalary month of thirty days once in three years, and there being still a loss of about three days in nineteen years, this is supplied by an arbitrary addition of a day to the seventh month of such years as may be selected by the Brahmin astrologers, whose business it is to observe the sun's path in the heavens, and to announce all variations in the calendar. At the very moment of the sun's crossing the equator, they make proclamation of the advent of each new year, accompanied by a burst of music and by the firing of great guns, both from the palace and the city walls.The Siamese have two cycles, one within the other; the greater is twelve, and the lesser ten years in duration. Every year in each cycle has its own peculiar name. Their sacred era is reckoned from the time of the death of the Buddha (2415). It is denominated Buddha Sakarat. Their civil era is called Choola Sakarat, and is reckoned from the time of its establishment (1233) by P'hra Rooang, a Siamese king of great celebrity.
FOOTNOTES:
[48]For the following statements I am indebted to the late king, who very kindly furnished me with a copy of the Siamese "Slave Laws," from which these pages are translated, as if the system still existed.
[48]For the following statements I am indebted to the late king, who very kindly furnished me with a copy of the Siamese "Slave Laws," from which these pages are translated, as if the system still existed.
[49]A tical may be valued at from fifty to sixty cents of the Spanish dollar.
[49]A tical may be valued at from fifty to sixty cents of the Spanish dollar.
[50]The Siamese months are lunar months; each is divided into two parts, i.e. Khang Khun and Khang Ram, waxing and waning moon. Six of the months have thirty, and six twenty-nine days. To compensate for the deficiency of the eleven days which are required to make a full solar year, they have an intercalary month of thirty days once in three years, and there being still a loss of about three days in nineteen years, this is supplied by an arbitrary addition of a day to the seventh month of such years as may be selected by the Brahmin astrologers, whose business it is to observe the sun's path in the heavens, and to announce all variations in the calendar. At the very moment of the sun's crossing the equator, they make proclamation of the advent of each new year, accompanied by a burst of music and by the firing of great guns, both from the palace and the city walls.The Siamese have two cycles, one within the other; the greater is twelve, and the lesser ten years in duration. Every year in each cycle has its own peculiar name. Their sacred era is reckoned from the time of the death of the Buddha (2415). It is denominated Buddha Sakarat. Their civil era is called Choola Sakarat, and is reckoned from the time of its establishment (1233) by P'hra Rooang, a Siamese king of great celebrity.
[50]The Siamese months are lunar months; each is divided into two parts, i.e. Khang Khun and Khang Ram, waxing and waning moon. Six of the months have thirty, and six twenty-nine days. To compensate for the deficiency of the eleven days which are required to make a full solar year, they have an intercalary month of thirty days once in three years, and there being still a loss of about three days in nineteen years, this is supplied by an arbitrary addition of a day to the seventh month of such years as may be selected by the Brahmin astrologers, whose business it is to observe the sun's path in the heavens, and to announce all variations in the calendar. At the very moment of the sun's crossing the equator, they make proclamation of the advent of each new year, accompanied by a burst of music and by the firing of great guns, both from the palace and the city walls.
The Siamese have two cycles, one within the other; the greater is twelve, and the lesser ten years in duration. Every year in each cycle has its own peculiar name. Their sacred era is reckoned from the time of the death of the Buddha (2415). It is denominated Buddha Sakarat. Their civil era is called Choola Sakarat, and is reckoned from the time of its establishment (1233) by P'hra Rooang, a Siamese king of great celebrity.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE ROYAL PROCLAMATIONS.
In the beginning of the reign of P'rabat Somdetch P'hra Paramendr Maha Chulalonkorn, a new era dawned upon the kingdom of the white elephant.
On the 11th of October, 1868, a royal proclamation of the new and auspicious reign was made in all parts of the vast kingdom and provinces of Siam, and a national holiday was appointed. The multitudinous pagoda bells rang all day, while louder still boomed the cannon, up went the rockets, and aloft streamed the red and white banners of the white elephant. Still higher rose the glad hearts of the princes and chiefs of the people, and low in reverential attitudes, even in the very dust, were bowed the heads of the millions of the enslaved subjects.
Classed with the sod, and of as little account as the earth out of which they obtain so scanty a subsistence, branded as cattle with the mark of their owner, what have they to do with the glad shouts and the loud rejoicings that resound on every side?
To them it means only a change of owners, and royalty is the name fixed to the other end of the enslaving rod of power: "The right divine of kings to govern wrong."
There can be no auspicious reign or any happy future for the slave.
king
KING OF SIAM.
The royal messages of peace and good-will may find an echo in the freedman's heart and in his home, but they must ever come with a darkening power and as a saddening cloud to the home and the heart of the slave. An irredeemable beast of burden, what has he to hope from an auspicious reign, or the enthronement of a promising sovereign?
Yet that these millions of enslaved men and women are not brutes or wild beasts, or even devoid of noble and generous emotions, is proved by the most astonishing acts of devotion and self-sacrifice performed by slaves for the masters and mistresses whom they have learned to love.
Any one who from curiosity or with a higher motive may visit the prisons in the city of Bangkok will find, to his great surprise, that nearly one half of the inmates are slaves voluntarily expiating the crimes and wrong-doings of their masters and mistresses, or, as is often the case, mothers, daughters, wives, or sisters enduring all the hardships of a Siamese prison—and words would fail me adequately to describe the amount of suffering which those two words imply—in the place and for the sake of sons, husbands, or unworthy relatives. The strength that is in these slaves to suffer is the strength of love. Love combined with despair gives them the awful and wonderful power of utter self-sacrifice.
The rights which every man should enjoy in his wife, his children, and his own labor, and which should be the most sacred and inviolable rights, are here placed at the mercy of a master, and are oft-times to the slave the very fetters of his galling servitude.
But, since that ever-to-be-remembered 11th of October, 1868, a new empire has arisen out of the ashes of the old. The traditions and customs of centuries are as naught. A fresh start has been made, a young king full of generous impulses and noble purposes reigns; and how he intends to govern may be gathered from his second royal proclamation to his people on the subject of religion:—
"In regard to the concern of seeking and holding areligion that will be a refuge to you in this life: it is a good and noble concern, and it is exceedingly appropriate and suitable that you, as a nation, and each man individually, should investigate for himself, and according to his own wisdom, which is the right and which the wrong; and if you see any religion whatever, or any body of men professing any religion whatsoever who seem likely to be an advantage to you,—a true religion in accordance with your own wisdom,—hold to that religion with all your heart; hold to it not with a shallow mind, or after slight investigation, or even because of its tradition, saying this is the custom held from time immemorial, but from your own deep faith in its excellence; and do not profess a religion for the truth of which you have not good evidence, or one which frightens men through their fears and flatters them through their hopes.
"Do not be either frightened or flattered into doing what is right and just, and do not follow after fictitious signs and wonders.
"But, when you shall have obtained a firm conviction in any religious faith that it is true, beautiful, and good, hold to it with great joy, follow its teachings alone, and it will be a source of happiness to each one of you.
"It is our will that our subjects of whatever race, nation, or creed, live freely and happily in our kingdom, no man despising or molesting another on account of religious difference, or any other difference of opinions, customs, or manners."
This is the second important message from the young king, who has just ascended the throne of his fathers, to his subjects, both bond and free.
The great old dukes and princes and nobles of the realm feel in their hardened hearts that it is barely gracious, and certainly not at all graceful, in one so young, to ignore all that magnificent past. But the young monarch is true to his early promise, and his next step is quietly to abolish the customary prostrations before a superior, and to inaugurate a new costume for his people, which will enable the wearer, whoever he may be, prince, ruler, chieftain, or slave, to stand face to face with his fellow-men and erect in the presence of his sovereign.
And now let us mark the next step made in the path of progress and freedom by this noble young Buddhist monarch.
Years ago, in the little study in his beautiful palace called the "Rose-Planting House," when a mere boy, on hearing of the death of President Lincoln, he had declared "that if he ever lived to reign over Siam, he would reign over a free and not an enslaved nation; that it would be his pride and joy to restore to his kingdom the original constitution under which it was first planted by a small colony of hardy and brave Buddhists, who fled from their native country, Magadah, to escape the religious persecutions of the Brahminical priests, who had arrived at Ayudia and there established themselves under one of their leaders, who was at once priest and king. They called the spot they occupied "Muang Thai,"—the kingdom of the free,—and this kingdom now extends from the northern slopes of the mountains of Yuman in China to the Gulf of Siam."
Nobly has he striven to keep this aspiration of his early boyhood; and as he went, day after day, to take his place at the head of his government, and to the nightly sittings of the Secret Council of the state, he endeavored to hold unflinchingly to his one great purpose.
On the first opportunity that offered he urged the abolition of slavery upon the Prince Regent, his uncle, and the Prime Minister; then again he brought it before the mighty Secret Council, sitting at midnight in the hall of his ancestors. "I see," says the brave young king, "nohope for our country until she is freed from the dark blot of slavery."
The Prince Regent and the Prime Minister, though almost persuaded by the vehement pleading of the young and fearless king, replied: "It is impossible to free a nation of slaves without incurring much risk and danger to the state and to the slaveholders. Under the existing laws, Siam could not abolish her system of slavery without undermining at the same time her whole constitution."
"Well," said the young king, "let it be so; but my slaves, my soldiers, and my debtors are my own, and I will free them at least, whatever my ministers may see fit to do; for my part, no human being shall ever again be branded in my name and with my mark."
What strange words from one so young!
The Secret Council meet again and again to discuss the matter, and at length they decide—for they too have the good of their country at heart—to let the young king have his own way.
Then the royal boy king sends another message summoning the heads of all his people, from every department of his vast kingdom, to appear together in his audience hall, and to receive the royal message.
Standing on the lowest step of his glittering throne, he greets the chief rulers and governors and judges of his people, and utters these remarkable words: "Let this our royal message to our people be proclaimed, and not as if we were doing a great and lordly thing, but our simple duty to our fellow-men and subjects, that from the first day of January, 1872, slavery shall cease to be an institution in our country, and every man, woman, and child shall hold themselves free-born citizens; and further let it be made known, that a tax, according to the circumstances of each and every man, shall be levied on thenation to remunerate the slaveholders for the loss of their slaves."
The effect of this speech upon the listeners can hardly be imagined. It was like the winged words of an angel from heaven, and the young monarch descended from the last step of his throne, having firmly laid the corner-stone on which the greatness of his reign and his nation will forever rest unshaken. But seeing that his astonished hearers remained rooted to the spot, still doubting whether they had heard aright, he added: "We bind ourselves to fulfil our word to our subjects at large, no matter what the cost to ourselves. Go you and proclaim our royal will."
When the wonderful tidings were actually proclaimed, the people listened as though they heard not; at best they distrusted the good report, and received the wondrous words as if they were merely the sounding of brass and the tinkling of cymbals in their ears.
Confidence is a plant of slow growth; but how slow must its revival have been in the place whence it has once been torn up by the roots! So the people turned a deaf ear to the loving messages of their young king, and went on their sad way not a whit happier.
But when the 1st of January, 1872, had actually arrived, and they absolutely found themselves "free" men and women, their patient, loving hearts well-nigh burst asunder with joy.
The glad cries of the ransomed millions penetrated the heart of the universe, and the "Despair" of the nation flapped her dark wings and fell down dead at the golden feet of the royal ransomer.
The prison doors are open, and all the prisoners by proxy and those who were slaves by reason of their great poverty or their greater love find, to their amazement, that the sun of freedom has risen for them, and whoshall fathom the depth of their joy? But the land is full of flower shows, and unfurled standards, and cool fountain displays, fireworks, illuminations, and theatrical exhibitions. The music of thousands of choristers and the glad huzzas of congregated myriads rend the air. Let them dance and laugh and sing; they have had enough of slavery and too little of freedom, and the great hymn of the nation ascends to the Ruler of kings for the "Ransomed One," "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good-will towards men."
THE END OF THE ROMANCE.
ruins
TEMPLE AND RUINS OF KAMPOOT.
A LEGEND OF THE GOLD AND SILVER MINES OF SIAM.
Vela Chow, or the Beautiful Dawn, was the only daughter of a very powerful king of Ayudia. She was so wondrously beautiful that the old Brahmins and astrologers who foretold her birth named her, even before she was born, the Beautiful Dawn, as the only appropriate name for her.
Now it happened that, at the time of Vela Chow's birth, there was no moon to illuminate the fair earth, but the golden sun and the green earth enjoyed a much closer and more intimate friendship than they now do, and old age, sickness, and death were unknown to the blessed and undying people of Ayudia.
But as the mighty king Somdetch P'hra Batt, the duke of the golden foot, had reigned nearly three thousand five hundred years without ceasing, he became weary of the cares of state, and thereupon abdicated in favor of his young son, P'hra Batt Bandethâno, a vigorous youth of not more than five hundred years of age, who was even from his childhood an especial favorite of the ruby-faced and warm-hearted monarch P'hra Athiett, i.e. the Sun.
In the course of time, the friendship between these two, Bandethâno and P'hra Athiett, sovereigns of the earth and sky, ripened to such a degree of perfection that the latter was loath to withdraw his bright beaming face from his young friend's kingdom, even to seek his couch for a little rest at night, as had been his custom from time immemorial; thus he beamed forth both night and dayin saffron hues on the fair mountains and lovely valleys of the invincible city of Ayudia, and the land flourished in luxuriance and beauty, the fruits and flowers rivalled those that grew and blossomed in Indra's own garden, and countless birds of marvellous plumage winged their flight from distant worlds to build their nests and warble their exquisite melodies among the proud forests of this favored land. As for the men of this region, they were tall and stately and of golden mien, like the laughter-loving Gandharwas of Indra's paradise, and the women were gloriously beautiful, fair as silvery clouds, with eyes of wondrous hue; so that no mortal man could look upon one of them and not yield his spirit to the sweet frenzy of inextinguishable love.
Away flew the golden days and nights, and round and round rushed the radiant chariot-wheels of P'hra Athiett, and thousands and thousands of years sped away, but he never relaxed the speed of his swift coursers, nor drew in his rainbow-tinted reins, nor turned away even for an instant his glowing eyes from this favored kingdom.
Now, things having gone on in this way for several thousands of years, yet no sweet slumber had ever closed the godlike eyes of P'hra Athiett, and all the lovely Dowâstrâs, i.e. the stars, finding themselves totally eclipsed, their brilliancy and beauty marred by this unceasing sleeplessness on the part of their sovereign, formed the wicked and cruel design of revolting against him, and of taking possession, by some means or other, of his golden car.
Accordingly, instead of going to sleep, as had hitherto been their practice during the day, they all plotted together to hide themselves behind the many-tinted curtain of their monarch's chariot, and to watch his movements, in order to discover the cause of the singular attraction that drew him forever towards the earth, while he left hisown vaulted and ethereal hemisphere to the tender mercies of stray suns or wandering comets.
Having ratified with many an oath and many a vow their wicked compact, the treacherous Dowâstrâs, instead of going to bed like the dutiful children of a kind and beneficent ruler, only pretended to sleep, but all the while kept opening and shutting and blinking their bright, inquisitive little eyes, winking at one another and peering behind the golden curtains of the royal chariot at their unconscious master, who, fully believing that all his subjects were sound asleep, grew brighter and brighter, while over his round, genial face there beamed forth a smile of ineffable radiance as he approached the earth. At this very moment the rebellious Dowâstrâs, wondering at the blissful face of their monarch, peered out from behind the rainbow-hued drapery of the celestial chariot and turned their penetrating eyes towards the earth, where, to their astonishment, they beheld the matchless form and the divinely beautiful face of Vela Chow, who was lulling her wearied father to rest with the music of her sweet voice.
"Ah! ah!" laughed the wicked Dowâstrâs, "now we have found out the secret."
As soon as she had soothed her father to sleep, the lovely Vela Chow, all unconscious of what was happening around her, sauntered forth among the unfrequented woods and dells, making the voiceless hills and rocks re-echo her merry notes in melodious sounds; now culling rare wild flowers to wreathe round her lovely brow, now bathing her little feet in the cool crystal waters of a purling brook that murmured gently through the mountain caves and caverns, and anon raising her glad heart in thanksgiving and praise to the great, beneficent, and glorious P'hra Athiett.
At length she sat herself down in the deep solitude torest; and as she listened to the gentle zephyrs that fanned her yellow tresses or rustled amidst the topmost boughs of the "green-haired" forest trees, the birds plucked for her the ripest and the sweetest fruits, and some dropped them at her side, and others, less timid, hovered around her, holding them in their tender bills, each fluttering against the other and striving to be the favored one to whom she would open her sweet mouth to be fed; and while the many-hued birds were thus rivalling each other in their delicate attentions to the lovely maiden, it chanced that a gorgeous butterfly, more glorious than any she had ever before seen, alighted on a neighboring flower. Up sprang Vela Chow, and away she flew after it, from flower to flower, from shrub to tree, until at last the tantalizing butterfly flew so high in the air that the eager damsel could do no more than raise her fair face and sparkling eyes to follow its airy flight through the bright sky. Just at this moment P'hra Athiett's golden chariot was coming over the hill, and he smiled a smile of such ineffable delight when he caught sight of her, that he dazzled the eyes of the poor little maiden; and as she could no longer see the beautiful butterfly, she was obliged to relinquish all idea of capturing it. So she retraced her disconsolate steps to her lonely mountain stream, and plunged into its waters, in the hope of finding therein refreshment and forgetfulness of her cruel disappointment.
But P'hra Athiett was not to be thus baffled; so he noiselessly climbed higher and higher, and approached nearer and nearer, and smiled so much more warmly than ever, that he once more quite overpowered the weary maiden, who suddenly vanished from his sight, sought refuge in her favorite mountain cavern, and there fell sound asleep.
For a moment poor P'hra Athiett was disconcerted, and a great pain, like a dark heavy cloud, shot up from hisheart and overspread his bright, happy face, and he knew not what to do; but the next, he broke forth into a more joyous smile than ever, for he was just as foolish as he was old, and had been on the lookout all these thousands of years, night and day, hoping to catch a glimpse of this incomparable maiden; the moment he did so, he fell desperately in love with her, and he could not make up his mind to perform his journey without one more look at her sweet, pure face; therefore, instead of going on his way through the sky, he changed his course, and drove at a furious rate down the mountain-side towards the cavern, alighted from his chariot, and crept softly into the cave where the lovely Vela Chow slumbered, and smiled upon her with such rapturous tenderness that the sleeping maiden's heart was penetrated and completely captivated. She opened her beautiful eyes with a joyful sense of a new and delicious emotion upon P'hra Athiett, who beamed upon her so lovingly and with such irresistible pleadings in his godlike eyes, that she could not refuse to return his affection, and they there and then exchanged vows of eternal friendship and love.
But alas! while the all-unconscious and happy lovers were thus fondly conversing together, and P'hra Athiett was painting in glowing words the beauty of his heavenly dwelling-place, the wicked Dowâstrâs in all haste rushed to the mountain-side, drove off the golden chariot, and unharnessed the swift-winged coursers. Having thus cut off his retreat, they raised a shout of triumph, deposed their infatuated monarch, and established a republic among themselves, permitting neither stray suns nor wandering comets to have anything to do with their government.
Poor P'hra Athiett, who was now about to conduct his sweet happy bride to his celestial kingdom, found, to his consternation and grief, that his golden chariot had vanished. He bowed his head, and his great joyous face became suddenly overcast; all its light and glory departed, while large tears like mountain torrents rolled from his godlike eyes, and streamed upon the earth, and were there and then transformed into nuggets of the purest gold.
Then the mountains, pitying his sufferings, opened their hearts, and revealed to him a secret passage by which he might regain his heavenly abode.
P'hra Athiett bade a sad adieu to the lovely Vela Chow, and, with promise of speedy return, set out, shedding golden tears all along the way, in search of his missing chariot. And as for the unhappy Vela Chow, the moment she lost sight of her beloved P'hra Athiett, she drooped her fair head in unspeakable sorrow, and followed him with aching heart and faltering step all the way, searching for the lost chariot, and shedding abundantly her bright beautiful tears, which, as they fell upon the rocky sides of the mountains, changed their flinty arteries into veins of the purest and most precious silver.
Thus the grief of these two godlike hearts served to enrich the country with endless wealth.
At the end of twelve hours, however, the wicked stars repented of their cruel conduct, and a fresh compact was made between the republican Dowâstrâs and the godlike lover P'hra Athiett, wherein it was expressly agreed that for a fortnight in every month he should pick up his beautiful bride at the mouth of the cavern and take her with him to his celestial home; but that for the rest of the month she should unveil her matchless face, and reveal her exquisite beauty to the Dowâstrâs, and rule over them in the sky,—for they all, it seems, had also fallen desperately in love with her,—and it was distinctly stipulated that P'hra Athiett should never attempt to approach her while she reigned as their queen and mistress in the heavens; and to distinguish her in her new regalcharacter, the Dowâstrâs changed her name from "Vela Chow" to "Rupea Chandra,"—the Silver Moon.
To all this P'hra Athiett readily assented; for he was impatient to regain his chariot, and to hear away his lovely bride.
But it is said that even to this day, while Vela Chow is presiding in queenlike splendor over the jealous Dowâstrâs, P'hra Athiett is foolish enough at times (for now and then he cannot restrain his affection) to attempt to kiss her. When all the Siamese, fearing lest he should again be dethroned, turn outen masse, and shout, and fire cannons, and beat drums, to warn him of the impropriety of his proceedings; which in the space of two or three hours—this being the time, it is said, that sound takes to travel to the sun and moon—generally produces the desired effect of recalling the monarch to himself.
Thus are the gold and silver mines, and the lunar and solar eclipses, accounted for in the Siamese legends; and annual pilgrimages are still made to the cavern where the lovely Vela Chow plighted her troth to P'hra Athiett.
Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.
[Transcribers Note: Original spelling, including possible inconsistencies, has been retained.]
[Transcribers Note: Original spelling, including possible inconsistencies, has been retained.]