The fact is remarkable, that though education in its higher degrees is
popularly neglected in Siam, there is scarcely a man or woman in the
empire who cannot read and write. Though a vain people, they are neither
bigoted nor shallow; and I think the day is not far off when the
enlightening influences applied to them, and accepted through their
willingness, not only to receive instruction from Europeans, but even to
adopt in a measure their customs and their habits of thought, will raise
them to the rank of a superior nation. The language of this people
advances but slowly in the direction of grammatical perfection. Like
many other Oriental tongues, it was at first purely monosyllabic; but as
the Pali or Sanskrit has been liberally engrafted on it, polysyllabic
words have been formed. Its pronouns and particles are peculiar, its
idioms few and simple, its metaphors very obvious. It is copious to
redundancy in terms expressive of royalty, rank, dignity--in fact, a
distinct phraseology is required in addressing personages of exalted
station; repetitions of word and phrase are affected, rather than
shunned. Sententious brevity and simplicity of expression belong to the
pure spirit of the language, and when employed impart to it much dignity
and beauty; but there is no standard of orthography, nor any grammar,
and but few rules of universal application. Every Siamese writer spells
to please himself, and the purism of one is the slang or gibberish of
another.
[Illustration: A PUPIL OF THE ROYAL SCHOOL.]
The Siamese write from left to right, the words running together in a
line unbroken by spaces, points, or capitals; so that, as in ancient
Sanskrit, an entire paragraph appears as one protracted word,
"That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."
When not written with a reed on dark native paper, the characters are
engraved with a style (of brass or iron, one end sharp for writing, the
other flat for erasing) on palm-leaves prepared for the purpose.
In all parts of the empire the boys are taught by priests to read,
write, and cipher. Every monastery is provided with a library, more or
less standard. The more elegant books are composed of tablets of ivory,
or of palmyra leaves delicately prepared; the characters engraved on
these are gilt, the margins and edges adorned with heavy gilding or with
flowers in bright colors.
The literature of the Siamese deals principally with religious topics.
The "Kammarakya," or Buddhist Ritual,--a work for the priesthood only,
and therefore, like others of the Vinnâyâ, little known,--contains the
vital elements of the Buddhist Moral Code, and, _per se_, is perfect; on
this point all writers, whether partial or captious, are of one mind.
Spence Hardy, a Wesleyan missionary, speaking of that part of the work
entitled "Dhammâ-Padam," [Footnote: Properly _Dharmna_,--"Footsteps of
the Law."] which is freely taught in the schools attached to the
monasteries, admits that a compilation might be made from its precepts,
"which in the purity of its ethics could hardly be equalled from any
other heathen author."
M. Laboulaye, one of the most distinguished members of the French
Academy, remarks, in the _Débats_ of April 4, 1853, on a work known by
the title of "Dharmna Maitrî," or "Law of Charity":--
"It is difficult to comprehend how men, not aided by revelation, could
have soared so high and approached so near the truth. Beside the five
great commandments,--not to kill, not to steal, not to commit adultery,
not to lie, not to get drunk,--every shade of vice, hypocrisy, anger,
pride, suspicion, greed, gossip, cruelty to animals, is guarded against
by special precepts. Among the virtues commended we find, not only
reverence for parents, care for children, submission to authority,
gratitude, moderation in time of prosperity, resignation and fortitude
in time of trial, equanimity at all times, but virtues unknown to any
heathen system of morality, such as the duty of forgiving insults, and
of rewarding evil with good."
All virtues, we are told, spring from _maitrî_, and this _maitrî_ can
only be rendered by charity and love.
"I do not hesitate," says Burnouf, in his _Lotus de la Bonne Loi_, "to
translate by 'charity' the word _maitrî_, which expresses, not merely
friendship, or the feeling of particular affection which a man has for
one or more of his fellow-creatures, but that universal feeling which
inspires us with good-will toward all men and a constant willingness to
help them."
I may here add the testimony of Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire: "I do not
hesitate to add," he writes, "that, save the Christ alone, there is not
among the founders of religion a figure more pure, more touching, than
that of Buddha. His life is without blemish; his constant heroism equals
his conviction; and if the theory he extols is false, the personal
examples he affords are irreproachable. He is the accomplished model of
all the virtues he preaches; his abnegation, his charity, his
unalterable sweetness, never belie themselves. At the age of twenty-nine
he retires from the court of the king, his father, to become a devotee
and a beggar. He silently prepares his doctrine by six years of
seclusion and meditation. He propagates it, by the unaided power of
speech and persuasion, for more than half a century; and when he dies in
the arms of his disciples, it is with the serenity of a sage who has
practised goodness all his life, and knows that he has found Truth."
Another work, as sacred and more mystic, is the "Parajikâ," read in the
temples with closed doors by the chief priests exclusively, and only to
such devotees as have entered the monastic schools for life.
Then there are the "P'ra-jana Para-mita," (the "Accomplishment of
Reason," or "Transcendental Wisdom,)" and other works in abstruse
philosophy. The "Lalita Vistara" contains the life of Buddha, and is
esteemed the highest authority as to the more remarkable events in the
career of the great reformer. The "Saddharma-pundikara" (or _pundariki_
in Ceylon), "The White Lotos of the True Religion," presents the
incidents of Buddha's life in the form of legend and fable.
The "Ganda-Veyuha," but little known, consists of remarkable and very
beautiful forms of prayer and thanksgiving, with psalms of praise
addressed to the Perfection of the Infinite and to the Invisible, by
Sakya Muni, the Buddha. The "Nirwana" treats of the end of material
existence, and is universally read, and highly esteemed by Buddhists as
a treatise of rare merit.
But the most important parts of the theological study of the Siamese
priesthood are found in a work revered under the titles of "Tautras" and
"Kala-Chakara,"--that is, "Circles of Time, Matter, Space"; probably a
translation of the Sanskrit symbolic word, _Om_, "Circle." There are
twenty-two volumes, treating exclusively of mystics and mystical
worship.
The libraries of the monasteries are rich in works on the theory and
practice of medicine; but very poor in historical books, the few
preserved dealing mainly with the lives and actions of Siamese rulers,
oddly associated with the genii and heroes of the Hindoo mythology. Like
the early historians of Greece and Rome, the writers are careful to
furnish a particular account of all signs, omens, and predictions
relating to the several events recorded. They possess also a few
translated works in Chinese history.
The late king was an authority on all questions of religion, law, and
custom, and was familiar with the writings of Pythagoras and Aristotle.
The Siamese have an extravagant fondness for the drama, and for poetry
of every kind. In all the lyric form predominates, and their
compositions are commonly adapted for instrumental accompaniment. Their
dramatic entertainments are mainly musical, combining rudely the opera
with the ballet,--monotonous singing, and listless, mechanical dancing.
Dialogue is occasionally introduced, the favorite subjects being
passages from the Hindoo Avatars, the epic "Ramayana," and the
"Mahabharata"; or from legends, peculiar to Siam, of gods, heroes, and
demons. Throughout their literature, mythology is the all-pervading
element; history, science, arts, customs, conversation, opinion,
doctrine, are alike colored and flavored with it.
With so brief and meagre a sketch of the literature of Siam, I would
fain prepare the reader to appreciate the peculiarities of an English
classical school in the Royal Palace at Bangkok. In Siam, all schools,
literary societies, monasteries, even factories, all intellectual and
progressive enterprises of whatever nature and intention, are opened and
begun on Thursday, "One P'ra Hatt"; because that day is sacred to the
goddess of Mind or Wisdom, probably the Hindoo Saraswati. On the
Thursday appointed for the opening of my classes in the palace, one of
the king's barges conveyed us across the Meinam. At the landing I was
met by slave-girls, who conducted me to the palace through the gate
called Patoo Sap, "Gate of Knowledge." Here I was received by some
Amazons, who in turn gave notice to other slave-girls waiting to escort
us to a pavilion--or, more correctly, temple--dedicated to the wives and
daughters of Siam. [Footnote: _Watt Khoon Choom Manda Thai_,--"Temple of
the Mothers of the Free."] The profound solitude of this refuge,
embowered in its twilight grove of orange and palm trees, was strangely
tranquillizing. The religion of the place seemed to overcome us, as we
waited among the tall, gilded pillars of the temple. On one side was an
altar, enriched with some of the most curious and precious offerings of
art to be found in the East. There was a gilded rostrum also, from which
the priests daily officiated; and near by, on the summit of a curiously
carved trunk of an old Bho tree, [Footnote: The sacred tree under which
Guadama discoursed with his disciples.] the goddess of Mind presided.
The floor of this beautiful temple was a somewhat gaudy mosaic of
variegated marble and precious stones; but the gilded pillars, the
friezes that surmounted them, and the vaulted roof of gilded arabesques,
seemed to tone down the whole to their own chaste harmony of design.
In the centre of the temple stood a long table, finely carved, and some
gilt chairs. The king and most of the nobler ladies of the court were
present, with a few of the chief priests, among whom I recognized, for
the first time, his Lordship Chow Khoon Sâh.
His Majesty received me and my little boy most kindly. After an interval
of silence he clapped his hands lightly, and instantly the lower hall
was filled with female slaves. A word or two, dropped from his lips,
bowed every head and dispersed the attendants. But they presently
returned laden, some with boxes containing books, slates, pens, pencils,
and ink; others with lighted tapers and vases filled with the white
lotos, which they set down before the gilded chairs.
At a signal from the king, the priests chanted a hymn from the
"P'ra-jana Para-mita"; [Footnote: "Accomplishment of Reason," or
"Transcendental Wisdom."] and then a burst of music announced the
entrance of the princes and princesses, my future pupils. They advanced
in the order of their ages. The Princess Ying You Wahlacks ("First-born
among Women"), having precedence, approached and prostrated herself
before her royal father, the others following her example. I admired the
beauty of her skin, the delicacy of her form, and the subdued lustre of
her dreamy eyes. The king took her gently by the hand, and presented me
to her, saying simply, "The English teacher." Her greeting was quiet and
self-possessed. Taking both my hands, she bowed, and touched them with
her forehead; then, at a word from the king, retired to her place on the
right. One by one, in like manner, all the royal children were presented
and saluted me; and the music ceased.
His Majesty then spoke briefly, to this effect: "Dear children, as this
is to be an English school, you will have to learn and observe the
English modes of salutation, address, conversation, and etiquette; and
each and every one of you shall be at liberty to sit in my presence,
unless it be your own pleasure not to do so." The children all bowed,
and touched their foreheads with their folded palms, in acquiescence.
Then his Majesty departed with the priests; and the moment he was fairly
out of sight, the ladies of the court began, with much noise and
confusion, to ask questions, turn over the leaves of books, and chatter
and giggle together. Of course, no teaching was possible in such a din;
my young princes and princesses disappeared in the arms of their nurses
and slaves, and I retired to my apartments in the prime minister's
palace. But the serious business of my school began on the following
Thursday.
On that day a crowd of half-naked children followed me and my Louis to
the palace gates, where our guide gave us in charge to a consequential
female slave, at whose request the ponderous portal was opened barely
wide enough to admit one person at a time. On entering we were jealously
scrutinized by the Amazonian guard, and a "high private" questioned the
propriety of admitting my boy; whereat a general tittering, and we
passed on. We advanced through the noiseless oval door, and entered the
dim, cool pavilion, in the centre of which the tables were arranged for
school. Away flew several venerable dames who had awaited our arrival,
and in about an hour returned, bringing with them twenty-one scions of
Siamese royalty, to be initiated into the mysteries of reading, writing,
and arithmetic, after the European, and especially the English manner.
It was not long before my scholars were ranged in chairs around the long
table, with Webster's far-famed spelling-books before them, repeating
audibly after me the letters of the alphabet. While I stood at one end
of the table, my little Louis at the other, mounted on a chair, the
better to command his division, mimicked me with a fidelity of tone and
manner very quaint and charming. Patiently his small finger pointed out
to his class the characters so strange to them, and not yet perfectly
familiar to himself.
About noon, a number of young women were brought to me, to be taught
like the rest. I received them sympathetically, at the same time making
a memorandum of their names in a book of my own. This created a general
and lively alarm, which it was not in my power immediately to allay, my
knowledge of their language being confined to a few simple sentences;
but when at last their courage and confidence were restored, they began
to take observations and an inventory of me that were by no means
agreeable. They fingered my hair and dress, my collar, belt, and rings.
One donned my hat and cloak, and made a promenade of the pavilion;
another pounced upon my gloves and veil, and disguised herself in them,
to the great delight of the little ones, who laughed boisterously. A
grim duenna, who had heard the noise, bustled wrathfully into the
pavilion. Instantly hat, cloak, veil, gloves, were flung right and left,
and the young women dropped on the floor, repeating shrilly, like truant
urchins caught in the act, their "ba, be, bi, bo."
One who seemed the infant phenomenon of the royal harem, so juvenile and
artless were her looks and ways, despising a performance so rudimentary
as the a, b, c, demanded to be steered at once into the mid-ocean of the
book; but when I left her without pilot in an archipelago of hard words,
she soon showed signals of distress.
At the far end of the table, bending over a little prince, her eyes
riveted on the letters my boy was naming to her, stood a pale young
woman, whose aspect was dejected and forlorn. She had entered
unannounced and unnoticed, as one who had no interest in common with the
others; and now she stood apart and alone, intent only on mastering the
alphabet with the help of her small teacher. When we were about to
dismiss the school, she repeated her lesson to my wise lad, who listened
with imposing gravity, pronounced her a "very good child," and said she
might go now. But when she perceived that I observed her curiously, she
crouched almost under the table, as though owning she had no right to be
there, and was worthy to pick only the crumbs of knowledge that might
fall from it. She was neither very young nor pretty, save that her dark
eyes were profound and expressive, and now the more interesting by their
touching sadness. Esteeming it the part of prudence as well as of
kindness to appear unconscious of her presence, and so encourage her to
come again, I left the palace without accosting her, before his Majesty
had awakened from his forenoon nap. This crushed creature had fallen
under the displeasure of the king, and the after chapters of her story,
which shall be related in their proper connection, were romantic and
mournful.