The moment the procession begins to move the shells, trumpets and pipes are sounded and the death-drums are beaten with a slow, measured stroke until the royal hearse reaches the P’ramene. By ropes and pulleys the urn is drawn slowly up with much ceremony and placed on the splendid throne, to remain in state at least seven days before burning, the strip of silver cloth extending from the lid of the urn down the eastern and western sides of the pyramid nearly to the flight of steps on the east and west sides of the building.
Then the chief priests of the city and from nearly all other parts of the kingdom begin to assemble, a hundred or more at a time, on the floor of the P’ramene in sight of the holy urn, and rehearse in concert lessons in Pali called P’ang-soo-koon, which are in substance reflections on the brevity and uncertainty of human life, the certainty of death and transmigration, the sorrows connected with every state of mutability and the blessings of Nipan, where there can be no more change. Having uttered audibly these short lessons, they continue in a sitting posture, with downcast looks, a few minutes, reflecting silently on the condition of the living and the dead, and then retire, giving place to another hundred or more to recite the same lessons. Thus they come and go until thousands of the chief priests and others of lower rank have had the honor; and this is repeated every day while the corpse sits in state and for three days afterward.
All the princes and nobles and royal servants are dressed in white. Every Siamese subject, noble or plebeian, man and woman, bond and free, must then out of respect for the dead have his head entirely shaven.
The multitudes of priests are sumptuously fed from the royal bounty early every morning, and again before noon. Yellow robes are prepared for them at the expense of the king’s private purse. To every chief priest he gives a complete suit, and to every other priest some important part of a suit, if not the whole. Besides the yellow robes, the king has also in readiness vast provisions of bedsteads, fully furnished with mosquito-bars, mattresses, pillows, towels, spittoons, betel-boxes, cigar-cases, rice-kettles, lacquered trays, lamps, candles, boats with little houses on them, and other articles which the priests need in their daily calling. These articles he distributes to them every day.
Another performance, usually more exciting than all the rest, is the daily scattering of money broadcast among the thousands that have assembled there for the sport. The king takes personally a very lively part in it. The money and jewelry are usually imbedded in little green limes or small balls of wood, to prevent them from getting lost among the crowd. His Majesty, standing in his temporary palace-door, having bushels of limes at his feet, each charged with one piece of money, taking up a handful at a time, throws them, often so guiding his hand as that some peculiar favorite shall have the best chance in the game—some corpulent prince whom he wishes to set into ludicrous motion by his efforts to catch the flying prize. To show proper respect, every one, whether prince or prime minister or consul or missionary, must exert himself to catch His Majesty’s gifts while flying, and must go down on all fours grabbing after them at the feet of the multitude if they happen to fall there. He manifestly enjoys the sport, often laughing most heartily at the sight of the jumping, scrambling and groveling eagerness of his lords to obtain the limes.
Sometimes the limes are hung on artificial trees called ton Kappapruk—literally, “trees that gratified the desires of men.” They are intended to represent the four trees that are to be found in each of the four corners of the city in which the next Buddha is to be born, and which will bear not only money, but seri-leaf, betel-nut, oranges, clothing, gold, diamonds—in short, everything else that man shall need for his comfort under his reign.
Four men ascend the mound in which these trees are planted to pluck the fruit by handfuls and cast them to crowds of men who stand as compacted as it would seem possible for them to live. Every throw is instantly followed by a universal shout from the multitude and a rush for the prize. And then they surge hither and thither like a forest swayed by a mighty wind. The writer thinks he has seen ten thousand men engaged at one time in this kind of sport. It takes but about fifteen minutes to pluck all the fruit from these trees, and then the game is over. It is a rare thing for a man to catch more than two or three limes.
Still another mode of dispensing the royal gifts on such occasions is to divide them into lots, with a slip of palm-leaf attached to each lot and a copy of each on another slip, which, being rolled up or put into the wooden ball or lime, is thrown out by the king to his favored audience. He sometimes adopts a similar mode in dispensing his favors to companies of the chief priests, taking care, of course, that only such things as are suitable for priests are put into such lots.
Sundry Chinese, Malay and Siamese dramas and shadow-scenes are played, and at early candlelight the P’ramene is most brilliantly illuminated within and without. About eight or nine o’clock in the evening the fireworks are sent off, being occasionally ignited by the king himself. You first hear the crackling of the matches, then you see the sulphuric fire and smoke running up tall bamboo poles and extending out into branches. Presently a dozen tall trees of fire throw an intense light over all the premises. These quickly burn out, and another flash brings into view beautiful fire-shrubbery. In a minute or two they blossom roses, dahlias, oleanders and other flowers of all hues, and the most beautiful, continually changing their colors like the chameleon until they all fade out into darkness. You are startled by the report of rockets sent up from various places in rapid succession, a hundred or more, showing that the Siamese are not far behind the times in this art. Immediately after this you will hear a terrible roaring like the bellowing of a dozen elephants, with an occasional crash like the bursting of a small engine-boiler. They are the fireworks called Chang rawng, which means “bellowing elephants.” Suddenly innumerable fire-birds begin chirping, buzzing, hopping and flying in all directions. Some ascend high in the air and burst with a small spluttering report. Mimic volcanic eruptions, attended with jets of ignited sulphur and iron, ascending like waterspouts and falling in showers of red-hot lava, are kept going until fifty or more have been fired.
Before the burning of the body the golden urn containing the corpse is removed from the top of the Pra Bencha, and the copper urn taken out. This has an iron grating at the bottom overlaid with spices and fragrant powders. All the precious articles with which the pyramid was decorated are temporarily removed from it, and some eight or ten feet of the upper part of it taken down to form a place of suitable dimensions for the burning. Then the fragrant wood is laid in order in cross layers on the platform, having a bellows attached to the pile. Precious spices and fragrant articles, many in kind, are put among the wood. A gunpowder match is laid from a certain part of the hall set apart for the seat of the king, reaching to a spot made particularly combustible in the pile of wood. These changes are made with surprising rapidity.