Siam : The Land of the White Elephant as It Was and IsBacon, George B. (George Blagden)
History
Siam : The Land of the White Elephant as It Was and Is
Bacon, George B. (George Blagden)
Thailand -- Description and travel; Thailand -- History
"The glow-worms settle on some trees like a fiery cloud, with this
surprising circumstance, that a whole swarm of these insects, having
taken possession of one tree and spread themselves over its branches,
sometimes hide their light all at once, and a moment after make it
appear again, with the utmost regularity and exactness, as if they were
in perpetual systole and diastole." The lapse of centuries has wrought
no change in the rhythmic regularity of this surprising exhibition. Out
upon the river once again; the houses on the shore began to be more
numerous, and presently began to crowd together in continuous
succession; and from some of them the sound of merry laughter and of
pleasant music issuing proved that not all the citizens of Bangkok were
asleep. The soft light of the cocoanut-oil lamps supplied the place of
the illumination of the fire-flies. Boats, large and small, were passing
swiftly up and down the stream; now and then the tall masts of some
merchant ships loomed indistinctly large through the darkness. I could
dimly see high towers of temples and broad roofs of palaces; and I
stepped on shore, at last, on the
"Dark shore, just seen that it was rich,"
with a half-bewildered feeling that I was passing through some pleasant
dream of the Arabian Nights, from which I should presently awake.
Even when the flooding sunlight of the tropical morning poured in
through the windows, it was difficult for me to realize that I was not
in some unreal land. There was a sweet, low sound of music filling the
air with its clear, liquid tones. And, joining with the music, was the
pleasant ringing of a multitude of little bells, ringing I knew not
where. It seemed as if the air was full of them. Close by, on one side,
was the palace of a prince, and somewhere in his house or in his
courtyard there were people playing upon instruments of music, made of
smoothed and hollowed bamboo. But no human hands were busy with the
bells. Within a stone's throw of my window rose the shining tower of the
most splendid temple in Bangkok. From its broad octagonal base to the
tip of its splendid spire it must measure, I should think, a good deal
more than two hundred feet, and every inch of its irregular surface
glitters with ornament. Curiously wrought into it are forms of men and
birds, and grotesque beasts that seem, with outstretched hands or claws,
to hold it up. Two thirds of the way from the base, stand, I remember,
four white elephants, wrought in shining porcelain, facing one each way
toward four points of the compass. From the rounded summit rises, like a
needle, a sharp spire. This was the temple tower, and all over the
magnificent pile, from the tip of the highest needle to the base, from
every prominent angle and projection, there were hanging sweet-toned
bells, with little gilded fans attached to their tongues; so swinging
that they were vocal in the slightest breeze. Here was where the music
came from.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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