Rational and reasonable on all other points as the Siamese are, the
moment you try to approach them through their religious senses they
appear like a world coming suddenly under an eclipse of the sun; slowly
and surely the disk of their mind is darkened, and the gloom and
perplexity increase, till it becomes completely obscured.
CHAPTER XXV.
TRIAL FOR WITCHCRAFT.
No one who has had the good or bad fortune to alight in the
northeastern portion of the city of Bangkok can ever forget the temples
and monasteries of Brahmanee Wade. They are situated by themselves,
at the northeastern extremity of the city walls, where not a modern
building is to be seen, for even the few houses which were erected
as lately as yesterday have been fashioned after the ancient model
prescribed by the Hindoo architect; and in no part of the world is
there seen so perfect an historical picture of the ancient Brahminical
architecture as in this part of the city of Bangkok. The varied gables,
the quaint little windows, the fantastic towers and narrow doorways,
with the endless effects of color, make this spot a perpetual delight
to the curious traveller; and the Brahmins who occupy this part of the
city, allotted to them from time immemorial by the kings of Siam, still
preserve the ancient costume of their forefathers, which makes the
picture complete.
On the morning of the 20th of November, 1866, three women, half
stupefied by the foul air of the damp cells in which they had been
immured, were conducted through the silent, sleeping streets of the
palace and city to a small room or "black hole" adjoining the great
court-hall of the temple of Brahmanee Wade, and locked up therein,
while the file of Amazons and the troop of soldiers in charge took
their places around it.
While the Invincible City was being disenchanted by one set of Brahmins
to be purified by another set of Buddhist priests, I set off on
horseback, attended only by my Hindostanee syce, or groom, to the scene
of the trial.
November here is the pleasantest month in the year; and the morning
sun shone brightly, but not too warmly, as we approached the walls of
the temples and monasteries of Brahmanee Wade,--so wild, so isolated,
so set in contrast by oddness of architectural effects to the general
order and appearance of the rest of the town, as to seem, indeed, to
belong to another age and another world. The dark walls and huge trees
were covered with parasitic plants. A deep, narrow valley, through
which a tiny streamlet runs, over a stony bed, betwixt sloping sides of
grass and furze-clad steeps, is crossed by a stone bridge, black with
time, which leads to the portals of Brahminism. The little mad stream
roared and fled darkly on, as it will perhaps forever.
There was a dreadful loneliness about the place, and a sort of
darkness, too, whether in my mind or in the place I cannot say, but it
spoke of all kinds of magic and witchcraft, and even of devilcraft.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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