[CHAPTER III.]
THE CHILDREN.
The lives of the children of the East are surrounded by a number of time-honoured rites and ceremonies of an imposing but superstitious character. The infant is a priceless gift from the beneficent gods, and its life must be ordered in accordance with the curious superstitions invented of old by the legendary deities of its forefathers. The infant is at once a source of pride, for it is a mark of heavenly favour, and of hope, for it shall, if good luck befall it, hand down its father's name unto another and a later generation. Whatever ritual has been devised aforetime as tending to bring long life and prosperity unto the new-born child, must therefore be observed with great pomp and careful attention to minute but important details. And lastly, the Oriental child causes its parent to reveal certain features in his character that otherwise lie hidden and unobserved. The fiercest Hindoo is the most tender-hearted of men when his little loved one lies sick; the fat, stolid, wooden-headed Chinaman becomes a lively youngster himself as he tosses his crowing chuckling babe aloft; and the genial, gentle Siamese is never so winning as when caressing the hope of his house. Siamese children exhibit in their earlier days the best qualities of their race to a very high degree.
The Hindoos instituted ten "samskâras" or rites, the due performance of which, was supposed to ensure to the child freedom from all evil influences. Now the original Siamese as they travelled south from the slopes of the Tibetan mountains, came into contact with the Hindoo civilisation and religion, and adopted therefrom their religious beliefs and many of their social customs. Owing to the absence of reliable written historic records in Siam itself, the mass of the people have long since forgotten where and how most of their ceremonial practices originated, but the learned amongst them have little difficulty in pointing out both their primary source and their latter-day modifications. The ten auspicious rites that encompassed the life of the Hindoo child, began with its birth, and ended with one imposing pageant more important and far-reaching in its effects than any of the nine that had preceded it, and marking very definitely the end of the period of childhood. One month after birth occurred the ceremony of shaving the first few hairs of the new-born, and about the same time, a rite somewhat similar to that of christening was observed, when the child received its first but temporary name. These two ceremonies still exist in Siam, but six of the original ones have disappeared. Amongst those that have thus been lost are the rite of ear-boring, which occurred about the third year and which still survives amongst the Laos and the Burmese; the rite of training the child to eat rice; the rite of teaching the first footsteps; the rite of speaking the first words; the rite of first putting on the loin-cloth; the rite of taking the first lessons in swimming, which was reserved for princesses; and lastly, the rites of shaving the top-knot and the subsequent investiture of the sacred thread, which form the final links in the chain of ceremonial practices devoted to the little ones.
It is obviously impossible therefore to pretend to give any adequate account of the people of this land, without first treating of the life and character of her children, on whose behalf the favour of the spirits of good are so frequently and carefully besought by their anxious parents. Considering the number of ritualistic observances that have occurred through successive generations, with the object of obtaining for the young the good-will of the angels, it might reasonably be supposed that if the numerous prayers had been in any way effective, by this time the present generation of children should be enjoying untold benefits, and should be leading lives far superior in their freedom from ordinary mishap or pain, to those of children not similarly descended. It would puzzle any observer, however, to discover in what way they are more tenderly cared for by the celestial dispensers of desirable things, than are other children. They cannot be described as differing in any very essential particulars from their little brothers and sisters in other lands. It is true that they have not the keen perception of truth, the chivalrous sentiment of honour, or the dogged industry which are common to some extent to most European children; but they have a respect for the aged, for their parents, and for all those set in authority over them that might well be copied by the democratic children of the West. In their behaviour towards their parents and their priests they stand as excellent exemplars of reverence and obedience.
The respectful manner they adopt in their dealings with all who may be presumed to control them, renders the work of any teacher in Siam a moderately light one. Insubordination or impertinence is unheard of. The oft-debated question of corporal punishment is here solved by the character of the children themselves. Schools can be managed without canes, hard words, or severe punishment of any description. Discipline, the first and chief goal that the European teacher strives to obtain, is here produced by merely wishing for it. The term "kroo" or "teacher" is a title that commands respect from parents and scholars alike, and they invariably use it in addressing him on all occasions and in all places whether public or private. The only teachers for years were the priests, even as the majority are to-day, and it seems as though in transferring the office of pedagogue from priest to layman, they have transferred also a portion of that atmosphere of reverence that is ever associated with the priesthood. The Siamese in this respect may be said to have reached a higher level than their whiter brethren, inasmuch as they recognise in an outward and visible manner, that the teacher of religion and the instructor of the young are both engaged in the same grand work of mental and moral progress.
Siamese children, especially the little girls, are exceedingly pretty, rivalling, if not excelling, all the other beauties of the East, Japan included. They are very merry, continually contented, easily pleased and most unselfish in their dealings with one another. Their almost absolute lack of selfishness is one of the most pleasing features in their very lovable characters. The boys at school lend their property to their fellow-scholars with the greatest readiness. Watches, knives, pencils, and other schoolboy treasures circulate sometimes to such an extent that one is inclined to fancy they must be common property; and, greatest test of pure good-nature, they even lend their bicycles to each other.
They are, however, early tainted with the national vices, vices that flourish more particularly in hot climates and luxurious soils. It will be wise, however, to make no attempt to describe these more mature characters until some one can lay down a code of moral virtue which shall be absolutely applicable to all people at all times. It will be safer to consider only the younger children at a time of life preceding the period when sensual enjoyments begin to enchain both mind and body.