Siam: Its Government, Manners, Customs, &c.

by N. A. McDonald

CHAPTER I.

GEOGRAPHY, Etc.

On my "overland" journey from Siam to the United States, through France and England, many persons were accustomed to accost me saying, "Pardon me, Sir, but what nationality is that young man who is with you?" referring to my Siamese boy. That boy, Sir, is a Siamese. "A Siamese! Well, I must confess my geography is a little shaky,—I scarcely know where Siam is,—but I remember now that is where the Siamese twins came from." Referring, of course, to those unfortunate beings who by some "lusus naturæ" are inseparably connected together, and have been obliged to spend a long life in that condition, and who have consequently become almost the only means by which their native country is known to a vast majority of Europeans. When I, in 1860, determined to go to Siam, I found it next to impossible to gather from books any reliable information concerning it, and consequently took shipping at New York almost as ignorant of the country to which I was going, as I was of the moon. Fortunately however, some of our party were returning, and before we arrived at our destination I was pretty well prepared for what I was to encounter. Geographies are nearly silent in regard to Siam, from the simple fact that geographers themselves know nothing about it. It is also to be regretted that, until very recently, chiefly all the books concerning Oriental countries were written by mere cursory travellers, whose knowledge of the countries through which they passed, or at which they touched, must necessarily have been limited, and the chief object of many of them appears to have been to make a readable book, oftentimes at the expense of truth.

You will naturally ask, where is Siam? At the extreme point of that vast continent extending from the snows of Siberia to the Equator, and terminating in the long narrow Malay peninsula, is the little island of Singapore, separated from the mainland by a narrow strait. The island is about twenty-five miles long, and about fourteen miles broad, and commands the entrance of the China sea. The English, who have ever had an eye to strategic points, and especially in the East, took possession of it in 1819, being then little more than a Malay fishing village, and a nest for pirates. The present town of Singapore, well laid out and neatly built, and situated on the southern extremity of the island commanding the anchorage, contains perhaps one hundred thousand inhabitants, whilst the principal English merchants live in palatial residences on the hills in the rear of the town. The government of the island, together with Malacca, Penang, and Province Wellesley, has lately teen transferred from the Indian Government directly to the Crown. It is a beautiful little island, with a genial climate, and I know of no place in the East where I would rather live.

Leaving Singapore, and passing through the strait, up the peninsula, over the lower part of the China sea, and up the gulf of Siam about eight hundred miles, you come to the kingdom of Siam, sandwitched between Cambodia on the east and Burmah on the west, extending from about latitude 4° to 22° north, and from longitude about 98° to 104° east; consequently there is neither frost or snow, but perpetual summer reigns. The leaves fall and are replaced by new ones, whilst those who are daily witnesses to it scarcely notice the change.

The climate of Siam is genial and healthy, but the constant heat is trying to the constitutions of Europeans, who require a change at least once in ten years. The seasons are two, the wet and the dry. From November to May scarcely a cloud obscures the sky, and no rain falls except perhaps a shower in January. The Siamese look for a shower in that month, and are disappointed if it does not come. They think it necessary for certain kinds of fruit which is just then forming, and they also think it indicative of a good rice season. I have, however, in ten years, seen January pass several times without the expected shower. From November to February the weather is delightful, being the cool season, but the thermometer is seldom lower than 64°. March and April are the hottest months, but the thermometer does not rise as high as might be expected in such a climate. I have never seen it over 98°, but on account of the long absence of rain, the ground in most places becomes dry and parched, and the rays of the sun, reflected from the heated earth, give the atmosphere a kind of bake-oven feeling, which is oftentimes hard to endure. From November to May the wind blows constantly from the northeast, and is called the "northeast monsoon." From May till November again, is the wet season, the wind blowing constantly from the southwest, and is called the "southwest monsoon," the rain falling in copious showers almost every day. The showers come in a kind of rotation. If there is one to-day at a certain hour, there will be one to-morrow an hour later. The showers are copious indeed, and sometimes one would think the "windows of heaven were opened." The lightning is vivid, and the thunder oftentimes terrific.

Whither the name Siam came, or whence it is derived, it is now impossible to tell. The Siamese themselves know nothing of it, only as it is applied to their country by Europeans. The name they apply to their country is "Muang Thai," the free country, in distinction from those countries which are tributary. The name Siam, however, is now coming into common use, and is sometimes inserted in public documents.

The geology of Siam is simple, the lower portion near the gulf being an alluvial deposit, the result of the annual overflowing of the rivers, which takes place at the close of every rainy season. The water from the copious rains rushes down from the mountains up the country, and overflows the lowlands, enriching them and causing them to produce abundant crops of rice. The mountains are volcanic, and some of them have the appearance of having been thrown from a distance and set down in their present positions.

Many of them are barren of almost everything green, presenting to the eye but little that is attractive, but others, especially in the North Laos country, present scenery indescribably grand. In many places, especially along the seacoast, the old granite, the foundation of all things, geologically speaking, comes to the surface, and even projects out in bold bluffs and headlands. The rocks on many of the mountains present the appearance of having at one time been lashed by the waves of the sea, and there is abundant evidence that much of the lower country has been redeemed from the sea at no very remote period.

The country is drained by three streams of considerable size, which empty into the gulf. The principal one is put down on our maps as the Menam, but called by the Siamese Menam Chow Phya, Menam being the generic name for river, meaning mother of water, and Chow Phya being the specific name for that particular river. Were it not for a sandbar at its mouth, it would be navigable for the largest class of vessels to Bangkok, but on that account the largest vessels are obliged to anchor in the roadstead outside. The Bampakong on the east, and Tacheen on the west, are also streams of some importance. Besides these, there are also a number of smaller streams.