In the afternoon another ceremony was performed—the “weean teean,” or encircling with candles, of which mention has been made before. Borne to the hall of state in procession, the princess, in rich costume, was seated on a central throne, between two bai-sees, which in this case were five-storied piles of round golden trays successively diminishing in size toward the top, looking like circular flower-stands, each containing cooked rice-cakes, scented oil and flour, young cocoanuts and bananas—all surmounted by a bouquet of flowers. Near her sat her royal father. All around the hall were the princes and nobles and ladies of rank seated in a circle. Two chiefs of the Brahmans standing near the bai-sees lighted in succession fifteen large wax candles set in gold, silver and crystal candlesticks, and handed them one by one to the highest in rank present, who with a wave of his hand guided the flame toward the princess and passed the candle on to the next, who did the same. At the same time others of the Brahmans were beating their peculiar drums with a wild burst of music, and hymns were chanted while each of the fifteen candles made the circuit of the hall five times, and then were handed back to the Brahman, who suddenly extinguished them, blowing the smoke toward the princess, thus wafting to her, as it were, the invigorating influence of beneficent spirits, of which they say the air is full. With the same object the Brahman gave the child some of the rice with the milk of the young cocoanut, and, dipping his finger in the sacred oil and scented flour, anointed the right foot in three places. The king then poured holy water over his daughter’s hands, which she passed over her head, and the ceremonies for the day were over. For three days this weean-teean rite was performed, and the processions escorting the princess back and forth went on, and then the sokan festival was ended.
During these last three days congratulatory presents in silver coin were most liberally made to the little princess by all of any rank in the kingdom. The amount received on this occasion was not less, it is said, than fifty thousand dollars—enough certainly to keep a Siamese princess in pin-money for life.
One cannot help remarking, How costly all these vain heathen superstitions! And all this pomp and parade and immense expense and these wearisome ceremonies, cheerfully undertaken to avert from the king’s daughter imaginary evils, from which, if they existed, God only could protect, and to induce prosperity which God only could give! Sad indeed it is to reflect how completely, in this and in all the customs of this people, all reference to or thought of the Lord and Maker of us all, on whom all creatures are dependent for every blessing, and whose favor is life and true happiness, has been shut out.
Let us, “whose souls are lighted by wisdom from on high,” pray earnestly for these boys and girls in Siam, who now trust in these foolish rites and offerings to spirits that do not exist, that as they enter upon manhood and womanhood the blessing of the almighty One may rest upon them, so that they, more favored than those before them, may learn and believe and rejoice in the truth as it is in Christ the Lord.
CHAPTER XI.
THE SCHOOLS OF SIAM.
In Siam schools are made up of boys and girls, just as they are in other countries. But the boys and girls of Siam are not made of “sugar and spice and all that’s nice,” but of fish and fowl, of curry and rice, of onions and garlic, and everything nice. And they seem to be very good materials to make children of, too, for they are usually very bright and clever.
They commit to memory more readily than the average American school-boy, but in studies requiring a process of reasoning or long-continued hard work they would probably fall behind. They usually begin a new study or work with great avidity, but often tire before it is half finished. The average Siamese boy of nine or ten years of age does not ask more than a day to learn all the large and small letters of the English alphabet, and a tiptop student will only want half a day. In a year afterward he will be able to read fluently in Wilson’s Third Reader, and translate it all into his own language, and will also be able to write nicely and know something of arithmetic.
A teacher of a Siamese school need have little trouble with its government if it were not so impossible ever to be sure of the truth. When a boy gets into mischief he always plans to lie about it; and he can do it with such an air of candor that he will make the teacher almost disbelieve his own senses. But this fault is doubtless largely owing to the early training in heathen homes and in the old-fashioned “wat-schools” of the country.
The prevailing religion and the education of a country usually stand side by side, and aid each other. Their united influence is sometimes to spread sunshine and prosperity over the land, and sometimes to fasten the chains of superstition and blight the moral feelings of the entire nation.