The pestilence had not been prevailing long before the Chinese in the city, at their houses on land and at every floating house for miles along the river and canals, had a tall bamboo pole put up, with cords attached by which a little lantern could be raised to the top. After dark, when all these were lighted, they gave the river a beautiful appearance. This foolish waste of oil was kept up all night for weeks and months. Besides this, the Chinese tried to get the favor of their gods by the firing of crackers, boat-races and processions on land and water.
There were other spirits, besides those that they supposed had caused the pestilence, that the Siamese treated with great respect during those days. Before or near almost every house, raised on a single pole about as high as one’s head, stood a little wooden house, having one small room opening on a little porch. In this porch and room you would always find a quantity of offerings—such curious ones, too, that you would be more sure than ever it was a doll’s play-house, yet the grown-up members of the family had built them to secure the good-will of the spirit guarding the spot occupied by their dwelling.
A piece of board shaped something like the head of a spear, slips of cloth covered with written characters, little clay images of elephants, horses, men and women, rice, betel-nut, tobacco and flowers,—these would be offered, in addition to the wax tapers kept burning and food set out, if any of the family were sick.
The worshiping of these spirits is a kind of superstition that appears to have been handed down by the forefathers of the Siamese from the ancient times before the Buddhist religion, which throws no light upon it, was introduced into their country. As the people believe that these spirits can protect them from sickness during cholera-time, the offering-houses are well supplied, and the little sprites (had there been any) would not have lacked tobacco, betel, food and clothing, or clay horses to ride.
The temples of the idols and the priests were not forgotten in those days. The preaching-places were filled with hearers, presents were made in abundance to the priests and there was much bowing to idols. One great man was sure that he could not die of cholera because he had gained so much merit by paying the expenses of making a number of new priests—some three or four hundred ticals; but he too was taken away by the fatal disease. Priests were in demand also to chant prayers over the dying, that they might be happy in the next life. I was much affected by seeing a poor mother trying to comfort her son, a young man stricken down by disease and fast sinking. She told him to think of the favor of his god, and then, putting his hands together with the palms touching, as he was too far gone to raise them himself, lifted them for him above his head, as is done in the worship of Buddha. And so this life went out, as thousands upon thousands have done since, in blind groping after its god, and this mother was left, as many, many mothers in that land have been left, without one ray of hope or light beyond the borderland which the spirit of her dear one had passed.
CHAPTER XVI.
SIAMESE CUSTOMS FOR THE DYING AND DEAD.
When a Buddhist prince or princess is at the point of death, the attendants, wishing to give the departing spirit as good a passport into the spirit-world as possible, suspend every other care and address themselves to the work of fixing the thoughts of the dying one upon Buddha. To accomplish this they take turns in enunciating as clearly as possible the name of Buddha generally employed when in health—P’ra Arahang.
Whenever the writer has been present at the death of an adult member of the royal family, this has been the name used. It is uttered as often as eight or ten times in a minute. This is done, hoping that the departed spirit will thus be helped to think of Buddha, and that that will accumulate a large fund of merit to his credit which will become of vast service to him in the spirit-world. It would seem to be a service having much the same object as that of the “extreme unction” of the Roman Catholics. It is continued from ten to fifteen minutes after the pulse has stopped its beating and the lungs their heaving, even until the body is cold and stiff in death.
When all evidence of hearing is gone the attending friends will raise their voices almost to a stunning pitch, hoping that they may force the departing spirit to hear the name of P’ra Arahang. When the most loving friends have ceased to have any lingering hope that the dead can hear them longer, then the continuous and deafening sounds of P’ra Arahang are exchanged for the most uncontrollable wailings, which are so loud that they can be heard at a great distance. Then all members of the family, including the slaves in the house within hearing, join in a general outburst of crying and sobbing.