_A SIAMESE WEDDING._
In a Siamese home, which stood in the midst of most beautiful
fruit-gardens, where the rosy-cheeked pomegranate nodded and played
hide-and-seek among its leaves with the purple mangosteen, and the
fragrant blossoms of the luscious mango pelted and showered themselves
down upon the thorny durian, and the tall cocoanut frowned loftily on
the graceful waving leaves of the banana,――in such a lovely spot,
amidst singing birds and fragrant flowers and most glorious sunshine,
about twenty years ago a little baby girl was born.
When the dear little stranger first opened her eyes she saw only gloom
and smoke. A Siamese infant is not carefully bathed by gentle hands,
and dressed in softest, purest linen, and laid in the clean white bed
beside the mother, who gathers it close in her arms and thanks God for
such a treasure. No; this new-born babe was first well rubbed with a
red and yellow powder, and strings with a silver coin attached were
tied around her wrists and ankles; then, being wrapped in some pieces
of their dirty, worn-out waist-cloths, she was put on a cotton pillow
under a round framework, something the shape of a bird-cage, covered
with dark muslin. Baby and cage were then set away in a corner of the
hot, close room, where the mother, as Siamese custom requires, was
lying on a bare board before four or five smoking firebrands, and, as
the house had no chimney, of course the room was filled with smoke.
The little brown baby was looked at occasionally, and brought to the
mother to be nursed, and she was bathed once or twice a day by having
tepid water poured over her with the hands, and whilst the skin was
still wet rubbed over with the turmeric powder and softened chalk. She
was also fed with the fingers, the food being boiled rice mixed with
mashed bananas.
What would you think to see a baby not a week old put into a
smoke-house and fed on rice and scraped apple? Well, as might be
expected, many of these little brown babies die. Nevertheless, this
little one lived through all, and as the days and months and years
went by grew up into a pretty little girl, and, being the youngest of
the children, was petted by all the family like many a winsome darling
in our own Christian land.
I do not know much about the earliest years of Leang, save that she
lived most of the day out of doors among the flowers and fruit trees;
and I think she must have had the birds for her companions, for her
merry laugh always reminded one of their carols. When I first met
Leang she was a bright child of six or seven summers, for the year in
Siam is one long bright summer. She had soft black eyes, and hair that
was black also, but all shaven off except one little place on the top
of her head, where it had been allowed to grow long, and was worn
twisted into a tight, smooth knot fastened by a long gold pin, the
head of which was as large as the end of your thumb and set full of
precious stones.
She was very friendly, and often visited at the house of one of our
missionaries who lived near her bamboo hut, and when Mrs. House
started a school for children on her veranda Leang was invited to join
them. Here she learned to sing, read, write and sew. In later years
she joined the church, and was often in our family and much loved for
her winning ways.
When Leang was about seventeen years old her parents thought it time
for the maiden to be married. In Siam when a man wants a wife he gets
two or three elderly persons who are friends of the maiden’s parents
to intercede for him and offer a certain sum of money for her, and
often, whether she is willing or not, the daughter is married to the
one who will pay the highest price.
Leang’s parents received an offer from a wealthy Chinaman who had
already two or more wives, but, attracted by her pretty face, wanted
this young girl――not because he loved her, but to add a new ornament
to his harem. He was a heathen, much older than herself, and the
girl’s heart had long been in the keeping of a young Siamese Christian
who had met her in the mission-house, where he also visited. Her
parents scolded, took away her ornaments, beat her and threatened
banishment from home, but Leang refused to marry the Chinaman. At
length, after a long period of trial and waiting, which perhaps only
strengthened their love, the young Siamese won the reluctant consent
of her parents to marry their daughter.
And now perhaps you think it is time to prepare for the wedding. No,
not yet. The Siamese have a superstition that persons born in certain
years are incompatible with each other. For instance, if one were born
in the “year of the Dog” and another in the “year of the Rat,” or one
in the “year of the Cow” and the other in the “year of the Tiger,”
they would not live happily together. The matter is accordingly
referred to some fortune-teller, who for a small fee generally
pronounces no difficulty is in the way. The matter of birthdays being
settled favorably, the elders make another call for a further
discussion of the preliminaries. They say, “Since birthdays do not
interfere, what shall be said about the usual stock for the young
couple to commence life upon, and the money for the building of a
house?” for, according to Siamese custom, the bridegroom puts up the
house on the premises of the bride’s parents, and as near the old home
as possible, so that it is almost one family. When a Siamese has
several daughters married and gathered thus around the old homestead,
there is quite a little family settlement. In reply to this inquiry of
the elders the girl’s parents will probably answer, “We are not rich
and not able to give our daughter much of a dowry. How is it with the
parents of the young man? What will they do for their son?” The elders
reply, “It depends upon yourselves.” The parents then suggest that a
certain sum be appropriated for the building of the house, and name
another sum for mutual trade; and it is agreed that they contribute
areca-nut, red lime, seri-leaf, cakes and so forth for the
wedding-feast. The plan of the new house and the number of the rooms
are also specified.
The elders then return and report to the parents of the young man, and
if they are satisfied a bargain is made and accepted by both parties.
All these matters being favorably settled in the case of our young
people, Leang’s parents hastened to consult the astrologers in
reference to a propitious day for the wedding, and the young man
engaged workmen to build the house, which did not take long nor cost
much.
During all these months the lovers seldom met. For the Siamese young
men and maidens there are no moonlight drives and walks, no pleasant
tête-à-têtes, no exchange of love’s sweetest tokens, during courtship.
They are carefully watched, and kept apart as much as possible. But by
some of the thousand ways in which love ever makes itself known they
knew that each was true to the other, and waited patiently. Meanwhile
the bamboo house grew in the hands of the workmen day by day, until
the sound of the saw and hammer was no longer heard, and the home was
pronounced finished and ready to be set in order for the young couple.
The wedding-day hastened on; the guests were all invited, and the
birds twittering among the trees seemed to sympathize with the maiden
who had lived among them from her earliest childhood, and to carol
joyously, “Come, haste to the wedding.”
The little house was festooned with the broad, graceful leaves of the
banana and adorned with the tall green stalks of the sugar-cane,
symbolical of peace and fruitfulness. Flowers and fruits were arranged
in fantastic designs on the walls, bright-colored cloth was gracefully
draped as curtains and screens; all things were ready and attractive
in the new home.
The ceremonies of a Siamese wedding consist largely of feasting. This
feast of fruits and cakes and sweetmeats is spread on mats upon the
grass among the trees and flowers, and the hosts await the arrival of
the guests.
By and by the sound of tabret and pipe and bands of music heralds the
coming of a sort of procession. As the Siamese always walk in single
file, one by one they came――the musicians with their oddly-shaped
instruments, old men and women, young men, maidens and children――all
gayly dressed in holiday attire, some bearing trays containing gifts
for the bride and her parents, and others with offerings of fruit,
cakes and confections to contribute to the already generously prepared
wedding-feast in the fruit-garden.
Out among her youthful friends, serving at the feast and bearing trays
here and there among the guests――who are seated in groups on the
grass, like the multitude fed by our Lord in Judea so long ago――flits
the pretty bride. Although her face is brown, the rosy blush is
plainly seen on her cheeks as she finds the eyes of her lover seeking
constantly her own.
The bridegroom sits apart from the women, among his young men
attendants, and has not been near enough to extend a tender pressure
of the hand, nor would he dare to offend the Siamese ideas of
propriety, for, although she is so nearly his own, a slight breach of
etiquette on his part might blast his hopes.
Conversation flows on, the sound of merry voices telling of happiness
and good-will. All have been served, and the feast is over. The money
has been brought forward and counted by reliable persons and found
correct. Both sums are then thrown together and sprinkled with rice,
scented oil and flowers, symbolic of blessings craved for the young
couple. It is then handed over to the parents of the bride for
safe-keeping.
The wedding-gifts have been formally presented and duly admired.
Siamese wedding-gifts are few and simple. Many of the utensils in use
among them are quite primitive in style――unglazed earthen pots for
cooking purposes; brazen vessels, trays, cups and spoons or small
ladles; heavy wooden buckets and baskets daubed within and without
with pitch, used for carrying water; common porcelain bowls for
holding their rice and vegetables at meals,――no knives, no forks, no
spoons, such as young housekeepers need with us. As they have little
that is ornamental in an ordinary home, the wedding-gifts are always
useful articles.
[Illustration: MISSION HOUSE.]
The afternoon is now far spent and the hum of many voices is somewhat
subdued. The band strikes up a sort of wedding-march. The groom,
attired in plum-colored silk p’anoong and a neatly-fitting white
muslin jacket, rises, and, leaving the group, attended by his young
friends, dressed in the same style, bare-legged and bare-headed, walks
toward the neighboring house of the American missionary. At a
respectful distance follow some of the matrons, aged women and
maidens. Amid them, like a gay butterfly, dressed in a red and yellow
silk waist-cloth, a brilliant green silk, tight-fitting jacket and a
fire-colored silk scarf thrown gracefully over her shoulders, walks
the young bride――no shoes or stockings, no hat nor veil to hide her
pretty blushes. The guests all go up through the veranda into the
house, where they are welcomed by the missionary. Chairs are offered,
but many prefer to crouch on the floor, as they have never been
elevated above it in all their lives. The Christian marriage that
follows is a novel episode to many present. At a Siamese wedding the
Buddhist priests come to the house and chant prayers for the benefit
of the young couple. The parents of the bride and bridegroom and all
the guests vie with each other in their attention to these priests,
who receive gifts also. The young couple are copiously bathed with
holy water, poured by the elders first on the head of the bridegroom,
then on the head of the bride, pronouncing a blessing upon each. This
of course necessitates a change of wet apparel for dry, usually more
gay than the former, the fresh suit for the bridegroom being
frequently presented him on a salver by a lad sent from the parents of
the bride.
But to return to our young couple. After repeating with clasped hands
their vows to love, cherish, honor and live with one another until
death, the missionary pronounces the blessing and congratulations are
offered by their friends. The parties then separate, and in like
manner as they came to the house so they go back to their guests in
the garden.
The feasting continues if this is a propitious day, closing in the
evening. Oftentimes, however, the ceremonies are kept up until the
third and fourth day. Soft eyes look love to eyes which dare not speak
again, for the Siamese dames and grandames are lynx-eyed and the
maidens are shy; yet Cupid will not be outwitted, and his darts fly
thick and fast at such a feast. Still, the bridegroom must content
himself with an occasional glance as Leang flits in and out among her
guests. When the twilight has waned and the full clear moon transforms
everything into silvery beauty, preparations are made for the
torchlight procession to conduct the bridegroom and bride to the new
home. You remember the parable of the Ten Virgins in the New
Testament: “At midnight there was a cry made, Behold the bridegroom
cometh!” After somewhat the same manner is this procession formed. The
torches used are made of pitch rolled into small sticks about two feet
long and wrapped round with the dried attap-leaf.
The groom’s attendants escort him with lighted torches to his new
home, and at the same time a lad is despatched by the bride bearing a
tray of the areca-nut, with all its concomitants, ready for chewing,
tobacco, seri-leaf, red lime and soft wax for the lips. The happy man
meets them at the door, and, placing the tray before them, invites
them to partake.
After an interval two or three matrons, with Leang’s maiden
attendants, light their torches, and the little bride, shy and
trembling, but with her heart full of her happiness, is in her turn
escorted to the little home, where the youthful husband, engaged in
merry conversation with his friends, is impatiently awaiting her
arrival.
All sit down in the veranda, the maidens apart from the men. The tray
with the betel-nut is passed to them, and they all partake freely.
Then, after more friendly chatting and some suitable exhortations from
the matrons and the congratulations from all, the guests depart. Our
youthful friends are left to themselves, and another Christian home
adds its rays to the light which we hope will ere long cover Siam.
Many Siamese men have several wives at a time, but they do not marry
all in the same way. They pay a sum of money for each, but often all
ceremony is laid aside after the first marriage, save paying the
money. They build a little house for each, or assign her a small suite
of rooms in the mansion, if men of wealth and position. Polygamy is
not so common among the lower as among the higher classes, because of
inability to support more than one wife at a time; but a wife can be
put away or left at will. Notwithstanding these evils, I have known
many homes among the Siamese where the “heart of the husband safely
trusted in the wife,” and she, with loving confidence in him, “looked
well to the ways of her household.”