NARRATIVE OF THE PRINCESS OF CHIENGMAI.[33]
My good friend Thieng arranged another interview for me with the
princess, who seemed wonderfully improved in health and spirits, and
who related to me, almost word for word, the following narrative.
"The Prince P'hra O'Dong Karmatha and I are the only children of
the Prince P'hra Chow Soorwang, the brother of the present king of
Chiengmai. Chiengmai is now tributary to Siam. But there was a time
when my ancestors were the independent sovereigns of all the land lying
between Pegu and Birmah on the one hand, and Siam and the mountains of
Yunan on the other.
"It was the Prince P'hra Chow O'Dong Karmatha, after whom my brother
was named, who founded the beautiful city of Chiengmai, and built those
stupendous works which bring water to its inhabitants.
"My poor mother died at the time of my birth, and May-Peâh's mother
brought me up as if I were her own child; and thus May-Peâh and I
became sisters in the flesh, as we are indeed in spirit.
"My brother, the Prince O'Dong, is just seven years my elder. He was
fond of pleasure, but he loved glory and honor and independence still
more, and it was ever a source of mortification to him that our house
should be obliged to pay the triennial tribute which the sovereign of
Siam exacts as our homage of fealty.
"It was on one of these occasions, when my brother became the
representative of our uncle, and the hearer of the gold and silver
trees to the court of Siam, that he met with his Royal Highness P'hra
Somdetch Pawarendr Ramasr, the second king of Siam. Being both fond of
the chase, and experienced hunters, they formed a strong friendship the
one for the other.
"God forbid that I should disparage the supreme king of Siam, but every
one who knows them will admit the superiority of the younger brother,"
said the lady, proudly.
"Soon after this the second king came on a visit to our home, and
accompanied my brother on many a hunting expedition. I cannot describe
to you my first meeting with the prince, whose praises had already
inflamed my imagination. If I could coin words of deeper meaning, or if
I could learn from the angels some new language wherein fitly to clothe
the higher and purer joy that fell upon me in his presence, I might
reveal to you something of the charm and the spell of that hour.
"When he at length returned to Sarapure, I was as one who had lost the
key-note of her existence.
"My brother, apprehending the cause of my grief, sent May-Peâh, unknown
to me, to Sarapure, to serve in any capacity whatever in the palace of
the prince, and to discover, if possible, the state of his affections.
"May-Peâh and her mother set out for the palace of Ban Sitha. Having
arrived there, she contrived to get admission into the harem of the
prince, in order to visit some of her friends. While there, she drew
out of her vest a silver flute, and played it so exquisitely--for she
is the best musician in our country, and can perform on ten different
instruments--that she charmed her hearers, who at once introduced her
to the chief lady of the 'harem,' Khoon Klieb, who purchased her from
her mother, and presented her to the prince, her master.
"She was then invited to perform before the prince; he too was
delighted with her wonderful skill and power, and being at the time
in ill health and feeble in body, he hardly ever left his palace, and
retained her almost always by his side.
"On one occasion, seeing that she had soothed and charmed the unhappy
and suffering prince with her melodies, she begged permission to sing
him a song of her own composition, set to his favorite air of 'Sah
Mânee Chaitee' (The Lament of the Heart).[34] The prince smilingly
assented, not without, as he afterwards told me, surprise and wonder at
the singular hardihood and fearlessness of the young stranger. 'But,'
to use his own words, 'she sang her wonderful song with such power,
such a sweet mixture of the fragrance of the heart with the melody of
touch, that the memory of it lingers still with me as a dream of a day
in Suan Swarg (paradise). Then I snatched from her hand the lute, and
struck on it in wild and imperfect utterances the burden of my love for
thee, dear Sunartha Vismita.'
"Just three months from the time of May-Peâh's departure, when I had
become weary and disconsolate because of her unaccountable absence,
she returned home, bearing letters and presents from the prince; and a
month afterwards I set out, a happy bride, for the beautiful palace of
Ban Sitha.
"When we arrived at Sarapure, my brother went on before to announce my
arrival to the prince--" Here she ceased suddenly, and gave way to a
burst of passionate tears.
After a little while she resumed her story, saying: "And so we were
privately married. The prince, however, had long been failing in
health, and after a few short months of unalloyed happiness he again
fell grievously sick, and exhorted me to return home to my father,
lest by his death I should fall into the power of his elder brother.
But I refused to leave him, and followed him to his palace at Bangkok,
where he sickened rapidly and died. His last words to me were: 'Fare
thee well, Sunartha! thy presence has been to me like the light of
the setting sun, illumining and dispersing the dark clouds which have
hitherto obscured my sad life. Fear not; I will keep the memory of
thy face bright and unclouded before my fading eyes, as I pass away
rejoicing in thy love.'
"A short time after my husband's death I found myself a prisoner in
his palace, and as time passed on I was removed to this palace, where
a residence befitting a queen was appointed to me, and where I first
had the honor of receiving and entertaining the elder brother of my
husband, the great king Maha Mongkut, who, ignoring my deep sorrow and
deeper love for my late husband, offered me his royal hand in marriage.
"Openly and proudly I rejected the cruel offer, for which reason I am
here again a prisoner, and perchance will remain forever."
She ceased speaking, and the Amazon entered to say it was time to shut
the prison door. With her lips firmly pressed together, her nostrils
quivering, and her head bowed in her strong grief, she motioned me her
adieux. I saw her once or twice afterwards, sitting leisurely among
the palace gardens, under the watchful eyes of the Amazonian guard, as
self-absorbed, but, I thought, more hopeful than she used to be.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 33: Chiengmai is the capital of Laos country.]
[Footnote 34: The late second king was passionately fond of music, and
was himself a skilful performer on several of the Laos instruments.]