THE CAPITAL OF SIAM by Frank G. Carpenter

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 24, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 24.

THE CAPITAL OF SIAM.

By Frank G. Carpenter

SIAM is one of the out-of-the way countries of the world. None of the great steamship lines of the Pacific or of the Indian Ocean stop at it. Few globe trotters visit it, and it is about 1,500 miles out of the regular line of travel around the world. The great Siamese peninsula juts down from the east coast of China. It contains half a dozen different countries, the chief of which are Burmah, Siam, and the French States of China. Siam itself is at the lower end of the peninsula, and it bounds the greater part of the mighty body of water known as the Gulf of Siam. It is 1,300 miles long, and at its widest part it is 450 miles wide. It is almost as flat as your hand, though it has here and there a few mountain chains. It has many big rivers, and the country is as much cut up with canals as is Holland. During the rainy season it becomes a mighty lake, and the people move here and there from one city to another in boats, on the River Menam.

The greatest river is the Menam, which the Siamese know by the same name as the Indians knew the Mississippi. It is "the father of waters," and it forms the great highway of the kingdom. This river flows into the Gulf of Siam at its head, and it is about forty miles from its mouth that I sit here on its banks and write this letter in this floating city of Bangkok. Imagine a city as large as Chicago, of which ninety-nine-hundredths of the people live on the water. There are fifteen miles of floating houses on the two sides of this river, and these, with the king’s palaces and a few foreign buildings on the land, make up the capital of the Siamese people.

There are six millions and more of these Siamese, and their country covers a territory of about twice the size of Colorado, four times the size of New York, and it is about five times as big as Ohio. The cocoanut and the palm tree line the banks of this Menam River, and the boats flit in and out of jungles which remind one of the swamps of Florida.

I wish I could give you a picture of our ride up the Menam to Bangkok. The sides of the river are lined with these small floating houses. They are anchored to piles and they lie half hidden by the great palm trees on the banks. Here and there a canal juts off into the jungle and the houses on it make this a floating street. These houses are made of bamboo, with their sides and their roofs thatched with palm leaves. They are sometimes on piles high above the water, but more often they rest on its surface. They are tied to poles driven into the bed of the river, and they rise and fall with the tide. Their average height is not more than ten feet, and each looks like two large dog-kennels fastened together and covered with palm leaves.

The river is winding. It is perhaps a quarter of a mile wide, and every turn brings new surprises. As we near Bangkok the waters are alive with craft of all kinds. Little naked, brown, shock-headed youngsters paddle long canoes not over two feet wide, and so sharp that the least balance would unseat the rower. There are half-naked women with great hats of straw, which look like inverted work-baskets, sitting, bare-legged and bare-breasted, in boats which they paddle along, and boats of all sizes are worked by all ages and sexes, from babies of six to wrinkled old men and short, gray-haired women of sixty. As you enter Bangkok the crowd increases. Instead of one line of floating houses along the banks there are three and sometimes four. The whole river is alive, and you turn your eyes this way and that, meeting a maze of new objects at every turn.

The king of Siam is supposed to own the people, and each man in the realm has to serve for three, six, or nine months as a servant of the Government. At a certain time of the year the entire population is marked off to particular noblemen or Government masters. These masters, whenever the Government demands anything of them, can compel the men marked off to them, to serve. All kinds of work are demanded, and the various marks put upon the men indicate their trades or profession. Some men are required to give all their time to the Government, and in this case they get nominal salaries. Those who give half their time, work for the king fifteen days, and then have fifteen days off. The three-months subjects get no pay, and during the time they are in Bangkok they have to find themselves in food and lodging. This work practically enslaves the whole population of males, and slavery is common in Siam. Criminals convicted often become slaves, and they are sometimes marked or branded on the forehead. I have seen many men in chains during my stay here, and just outside the walls of the palace there are at least twoscore of men, bright-eyed, good-looking, lusty fellows, who have great iron collars about their necks and chains about their legs and arms, who are making basket-work, and who offered to sell me their wares as I passed. The debtor who does not pay in Siam must become the slave of his creditor, who charges him from fifteen to thirty per cent. a year, puts him in chains, and takes his work as the interest on the debt.

There are hundreds of such slaves in Bangkok, and many of the men become slaves by gambling away their living. The nation, all told, seems addicted to vice rather than to virtue, and it is nearer akin to pure heathenism than any other I have yet seen. Still it claims to be progressive, and its king has made some steps to the front. The whole, however, compares more to the colored republic of Hayti or to the blacks of San Domingo than to any other civilization. The people are devoted to Buddhism, and the priests are numbered by thousands.—Frank G. Carpenter.