DUPLEX GOVERNMENT — PERSONAL CHARACTER OF THE KING — THE LATE FIRST KING AND HIS ACCOMPLISHMENTS — APPEARANCE OF THE SIAMESE — THE MODE OF ARRANGING THE HAIR — DRESS OF BOTH SEXES — CEREMONIES IN SIAM — AUDIENCE OF A NOBLE — ACTORS AND THEIR COSTUMES — AN ACTRESS IN ROYAL ROBES — THE ARISTOCRATIC ELBOW — PRECAUTIONS AGAINST CRIME — SYSTEM OF PUNISHMENT — RELIGION OF SIAM — THE WHITE ELEPHANT, AND REASON OF THE HONORS THAT ARE PAID TO IT — HAIRS OF THE TAIL — ARCHITECTURE OF SIAM — THE FUNERAL PILE.

In the empire of Siam, and its dependent kingdoms, Laos and Cambodia, we find the principle of the duplex rule which we have already seen existing in Japan, though in these cases the distinction between the two kings is merely one of dignity, and has nothing to do with the secular and spiritual element, as in Japan. In Siam, the two kings are mostly near relations, and often brothers; and sometimes, though by no means as a rule, the Second King becomes First King on the death of his superior. Practically, the whole of the royal power is vested in the first King, the secondary ruler being, although enjoying royal rank, nothing more than the first subject in the land.

In China and Japan, the personal character of the king seems to exercise but little influence over the people. This is not the case with Siam, in which country the influence of the king pervades the whole of the realm, and is of infinite importance for good or evil. The Siamese have been very fortunate in the king who lately held the First Throne. As is the custom with the Siamese kings, he spent a series of years in a Buddhist monastery, secluding himself from all society, even from that of his own children. During twenty-seven years he devoted himself to the studies which he thought would fit him for his future office; and when he mounted the throne in 1851, being then about forty-seven years of age, he astonished every one by his learning. He had made himself master of the history and geography of his own country; he was good enough astronomer to calculate eclipses, and determine the latitude and longitude of a place. He could speak and write English so well, that he was a valued contributor to the scientific journals of Hong Kong, and, on account of his writings, was elected a member of the Asiatic Society. He was a fair Latin and French scholar, was thoroughly acquainted with all the various dialects of Siam and Indo-China, and was also learned in Sanscrit, a language of which he was very fond.

He was always desirous of attracting to him any English people who could give him instruction, and showed his preference for Great Britain by invariably wearing a Glengary cap, except on occasions of ceremony, when he had to wear the heavy national crown; and, strange to say, to judge from several photographic portraits of the King in various costumes, the Glengary cap suits his countenance better than any other headdress. The full Siamese name of the King was Phra Chomklau chau yu hua; but the Sanscrit form, which he always used, was Somdetch Phra Paramendra Maha Mongkut. He generally signed his name as S. P. P. M. Mongkut. His name before he came to the throne was Chau Fa Yai. The death of this wise ruler and accomplished gentleman was a very severe loss to Siam, and was felt even among the scientific societies of Europe.

A portrait of this remarkable man is given on the 1469th page, dressed in the costume which he usually wore. The Glengary cap gives a curiously Europeanized look to his face; but as, contrary to the habit of the bare-headed Siamese, he constantly wore it, he is drawn with it upon his head. I possess portraits of him in several dresses, but that which he generally wore is selected as being the most characteristic of the man.

His brother, Chau Fa Noi, was by universal consent made the Second King, or Wanqua. When he received the crown, he took the name of Somdetch Piu Klau Chau yu hua. The choice was in both cases an excellent one, the brothers resembling each other in their love of literature, and their anxiety to promote the welfare of their people by the arts of peace, and not of war.

We will now turn to the general appearance of the Siamese.

They are rather small, but well proportioned, and their color is a warm olive. The hair of the men is shaved, except a tuft upon the top of the head, which is kept rather short; and the hair being black and coarse, the tuft looks as if a short brush had been stuck on the head. According to Siamese ideas, the tuft resembles the closed lotus flower. This tuft is held in the highest esteem; and for any one even to give indications of approaching the head-tuft of a great man, is considered either as a deadly insult or a mark of utter ignorance of manners. When a young Siamese comes of age, the head-tuft is shaved with great ceremonies, the relations being called together, priests being invited to recite prayers and wash the head of the young man, and all the family resources being drawn upon for the feast. The exact moment of the shaving is announced by a musket shot. After the tuft is removed, the lad is sent to the pagodas to be taught by the priests, and many of them never leave these quiet retreats, but enter the ranks of the regular priesthood.

Even the women wear the hair-tuft, but in their case the hair is allowed to grow to a greater length, and is carefully oiled and tended. The woman’s head-tuft is said to represent the lotus flower opened. The head is seldom covered, the cap worn by King S. Phra Mongkut being quite an exceptional instance. As for clothing, the Siamese care but little for it, though the great people wear the most costly robes on state occasions. But even the highest mandarins content themselves during the warmer months of the year with the single garment called the Pa-nung. This is a wide strip of strong Indian chintz, generally having a pattern of stars upon a ground of dark blue, green, red or chocolate. When worn, “the Siamese place the middle of this, when opened, to the small of the back, bringing the two ends round the body before, and the upper edges, being twisted together, are tucked in between the body and the cloth. The part hanging is folded in large plaits, passed between the legs, and tucked in behind as before.” (See Bowring’s “Kingdom and People of Siam.”)

Sometimes the men have a white cloth hanging loosely over their shoulders, and occasionally throw it over their heads. When walking in the open air, a broad palm-leaf hat is used to keep off the sunbeams, and is worn by both sexes alike.

There is very little difference in the dress of the sexes. When very young, girls wear a light and airy costume of turmeric powder, which gives them a rich yellow hue, and imparts its color to everything with which they come in contact. Up to the age of ten or eleven, they generally wear a slight gold or silver string round the waist, from the centre of which depends a heart-shaped piece of the same metal, and, when they reach adult years, they assume the regular woman’s dress. This consists of the chintz or figured silk wrapper, which, however, falls little below the knees, and a piece of lighter stuff thrown over one shoulder and under the other. This latter article of dress is, however, of little importance, and, even when used, it often falls off the shoulder, and is not replaced. Even the Queen of Siam, when in state dress, wears nothing but these two garments. As a rule, the feet are bare, embroidered slippers being only occasionally used by great people.

The appearance of the king in his royal robes may be seen from the portrait of a celebrated actress on the next page. In Siam, as in China, the actors are dressed in the most magnificent style, and wear costumes made on the pattern of those worn by royalty. To all appearance, they are quite as splendid as the real dresses, for gilding can be made to look quite as well as solid gold, and sham jewels can be made larger and more gorgeous than real gems. The reader will notice that upon the fingers the actress wears inordinately long nail-preservers, which are considered as indicating that the nails beneath are of a proportionate length.

The actors in the king’s theatre are all his own women, of whom he has some six or seven hundred, together with an average of five attendants to each woman. No male is allowed to enter this department of the palace, which is presided over by ladies chosen from the noblest families in the land. These plays are all in dumb show, accompanied by music, which in Siam is of a much sweeter character than is usual in that part of the world. Besides the chief actors, at least a hundred attendants assist in the play, all being magnificently attired. The play is continued ad infinitum. When any of the spectators become wearied, they retire for a while, and then return, and it is thought a compliment to the principal guest to ask him the hour at which he would like the play to be stopped.

The veritable crown is shaped much like the mock ornaments of the actress. The King brought for the inspection of Sir J. Bowring the crown used at his coronation. It is very heavy, weighing about four pounds, and is of enormous value, being covered with valuable diamonds, that which terminates the peak being of very great size and splendor. The King also exhibited the sword of state, with its golden scabbard covered with jewels. When the sword is drawn, it is seen to be double, one blade being inserted into the other, as into a second sheath. The inner blade is of steel, and the outer of a softer metal. The handle is of wood, and, like the sheath, is profusely adorned with jewels.

The Siamese are among the most ceremonious people, and in this respect equal, even if they do not surpass, the Chinese and Japanese. Their very language is a series of forms, by which persons of different rank address each other; and, although there may be no distinction of dress between a nobleman and a peasant, the difference of rank is marked far more strongly than could be done by mere dress. It is an essential point of etiquette, for example, that the person of inferior rank should always keep his head below that of his superior.

Should a man of low degree meet a nobleman, the former will stoop at the distance of thirty or forty yards, sink on his knees as his superior approaches, and finally prostrate himself on his face. Should he wish to present anything to his superior, he must do so by pushing it along the ground, and, indeed, must carry out in appearance the formal mode of address in which he likens himself to a worm. Just as the peasants grovel before the nobles, so do the nobles before the king; and if either of them has a petition to offer, he must put it in a jar, and so crawl and push it along the ground as humbly as if he were a mere peasant. Siamese artists are fond of depicting the various modes of approaching a superior, and never forget to indicate the great man by two points. In the first place, he sits erect, while the others crouch; and, in the second, he leans on his left arm, and bends the left elbow inward. This most strange and ungraceful attitude is a mark of high birth and breeding, the children of both sexes being trained to reverse the elbow-joint at a very early age.

As may be expected from the progress of civilization, the Siamese have a tolerably complete code of laws, which are administered by regularly appointed officers. The laws are rather severe, though not much more so than were our own a century ago. Murder, for example, is punished with death; and in every case of murder or suicide, the houses within a circle of eighty yards from the spot on which the crime was committed are considered responsible, and fined heavily. This curious law forces the people to be very cautious with regard to quarrels, and to check them before the two antagonists become sufficiently irritated to seek each other’s life. This respect for human life contrasts strongly with the utter indifference with which it is regarded in China and Japan.

Nobles of very high rank are exempt from capital punishment in one way, i. e. their blood may not be shed; but, if guilty of a capital offence, they are put into sacks, and beaten to death with clubs made of sandal wood. Some punishments are meant to inflict ignominy. Such, for example, is that of a bonze, or priest, who is detected in breaking his vow of chastity. He is taken to a public place, stripped of his sacred yellow robe, flogged until the blood streams down his back, and then kept in the king’s stables for the rest of his life, employed in cutting grass for the elephants.

Another similar punishment is inflicted on laymen. A cangue is fastened round his neck, his hands and wrists are chained, and he is taken round the city, preceded by drums and cymbals. The worst part of the punishment is, that he is compelled to proclaim his crime aloud as he passes through the streets; and if he ceases to do so, or drops his voice, he is beaten severely with the flat of a sword. Prisoners are mostly employed on public works, and at night they are all fastened together with one long chain.

Of the religion of the Siamese it is impossible to treat, because Buddhism is far too wide and intricate a subject to be discussed in a few pages. There is, however, one modification of this religion which must be mentioned; namely, the divine honors paid to the White Elephant.

By the Siamese, these animals are thought to be the incarnations of some future Buddha, and are accordingly viewed with the deepest respect. The fortunate man who captures a white elephant sends the news to the capital, and in return for the auspicious news is thenceforth freed, with his posterity, from all taxation and liability to military service. A road is cut through the forest, and a magnificent raft is built on the Meinam River, for the reception of the sacred animal. When the elephant reaches the raft, he is taken on board under a splendid canopy, and kept in good temper by gifts of cakes and sweetmeats. Meanwhile, a noble of the highest rank, sometimes even the First King himself, goes in a state barge to meet the elephant, accompanied by a host of boats with flags and music, and escorts the sacred animal to the capital, each boat trying to attach a rope to the raft. When arrived, the animal is taken to the palace, when he receives some lofty title, and is then led to the magnificent house prepared for him, where, to the end of his life, he is petted and pampered and has everything his own way, the king himself deeming it an honor if the sacred beast will condescend to feed out of his hand. On the head of the elephant is placed a royal crown, his tusks are encircled with precious rings, and a royal umbrella is carried over him when he goes to bathe.

When the animal dies, the hairs of the tail are reserved as relics of a divine incarnation, and the body is buried with royal honors. The hairs of the tail are set in golden handles, profusely adorned with precious stones; and the reader may possibly remember that the First King, Somdetch Phra Mongkut, sent one of these tufts to Queen Victoria, as a priceless proof of the estimation in which he held her. The King also gave the ambassador, Sir J. Bowring, a few hairs from the tail, as a gift about equal to that of the Garter in England, and when, to the great grief of the nation, the elephant died in 1855, the King sent Sir J. Bowring, as a further mark of his favor, a small piece of the skin preserved in spirits of wine.

The color of the elephant is not really white, but a sort of pale, brick-dust red. Albino animals of all kinds are venerated by the Siamese, the white monkey being in rank next to the white elephant. This veneration is so marked that a talapoin—a sort of preaching fakir—who will not condescend to salute the King himself, bows humbly if he should see even a white cock, much more a white monkey.

The architecture of Siam deserves a brief notice. It possesses some of the characteristics of Chinese, Japanese, and Burmese, but has an aspect that belongs peculiarly to itself. Ordinary houses are of comparatively small dimensions, but the temples are often of enormous size, and in their way are exceedingly beautiful. They are full of lofty and gabled roofs, five or six of which often rise above each other, in fantastic beauty, so as to lead the eye upward to the central tower. This is always a sort of spire or pinnacle, which is made of a succession of stories, and is terminated by the slender emblem of sovereignty, namely, an ornament that looks like a series of spread umbrellas placed over each other, and become less and less as they approach the summit. The whole of the tower is profusely adorned with grotesque statues in strange attitudes, and there is scarcely a square foot which is undecorated in some way or other.

The palaces are built on much the same model, and their gates are often guarded by gigantic figures carved in stone. At the door of the Hall of Audience at Bangkok are two figures made of granite. They are sixty feet in height, and represent men with the tails of fish projecting from the spine. In fact, they are almost exact reproductions of the Assyrian Dagon, as it is represented on the Nineveh sculptures.

The funeral pile on (or rather in) which is burned the body of a king or any of the royal family, is built on the same principle as the temples, and is in fact a temple, though made of combustible materials. There is before me a photograph of the funeral pile which was made for the body of the First King’s son, and another of a pile erected for the purpose of consuming the body of his wife. They are very similar in appearance, being temples made of wood and canvas, covered with gilt paper. They are about a hundred and twenty feet in height, and on the photograph, where the nature of the material is not shown, look like magnificent specimens of Siamese architecture.

The central spire, terminated with its royal emblem, rises in the centre, and round it are clustered gables, roofs, pinnacles, and pillars, in bewildering profusion.

The door is guarded by two gigantic statues, and the body lies in the centre of the building, hidden by curtains. On account of the flimsiness of the materials, to all the pinnacles are attached slight ropes, which are fastened firmly to the ground, so that they act like the “stays” of a ship’s mast. Inflammable as are the wood, paper, and canvas of which the edifice is made, they are rendered still more so by being saturated with oil, tar, and similarly combustible substances. Vast, therefore, as is the building, a very short time suffices to consume it, and the intense heat reduces the corpse to a mere heap of ashes, which are gathered together, and solemnly placed in the temple dedicated to that purpose.