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decreaseAuthor’s note:
The plot is mine (such as it is), but the inspiration came from several sources. First and foremost is Bram Stoker’s masterpiece, ‘Dracula’ (1897), but I also drew heavily upon ‘The English Governess At The Siamese Court’ by Anna Harriette Leonowens (1870) as a source of authentic period detail. The third key element came from Thai mythology.
1 April, 1905 - on board the steamer, SS Rainbow
Biscay - left Southampton at 8:35 am. I’m feeling a bit seasick, and am missing Mina and my boy, Quincey, already. Even with that marvel of modern engineering - the Suez Canal - it is a fearfully long passage. Still, I have my old friend Van Helsing for company. He intends to do some research into the ethnography of the people of Siam. As for me, I am hoping to clinch a property deal with the Chao Muang of Chiang Mai which, if successful, will secure my appointment to the position of senior partner in the firm of solicitors where I have worked these past twelve years.
22 May, 1905 - on board the small Siamese steamer Chow Phya, in the Gulf of Siam.
I rose before the sun, and ran on deck to catch an early glimpse of the strange land we were nearing. In the distance I could make out a shore fringed with palm trees. As we got closer, I could see monkeys swinging from the treetops, and before long, we were close enough to see brilliantly-coloured parakeets and hear them chirping.
We entered the mouth of a brown-coloured river, the Mae Nam, along which we sailed until we reached the heart of Bangkok - which is the capital city of Siam. We dropped anchor in deep water near an island. In a moment the water was alive with nondescript craft, worked by amphibious creatures, half naked, swarthy, and grim, who rent the air with shrill, wild jargon as they scrambled toward us. In the distance were several hulks of Siamese men-of-war, seemingly as old as the flood; and on the right towered, tier over tier, the broad roofs of the grand Royal Palace of Bangkok.1
22 May, 1905 – The Oriental Hotel, Bangkok
Bangkok is a curious mixture of ancient and modern. The buildings are a crowded mob of low, brown hovels mixed with towering palaces and temples, and here and there, a building in the modern European style. Every street seems a market place though which horse-drawn carriages and rickshaws fight to make progress. But the biggest surprise was to see modern electric trams on the main thoroughfares.
The Oriental, where we are to stay for a few nights, is Bangkok’s number one hotel, and is as good as any I have ever stayed in. My room - or rather, suite - is Number 2, and consists of a double-bed sleeping room, a parlour and a wide verandah. There two sheets on the bed and two long, narrow bolsters covered with white linen. I found out later that these are called ‘side pillows’ and deemed by the Siamese to be an indispensable requirement for a comfortable night’s sleep, though I could never work out what to do with them – unless it is to hug them like two lovers!
2 July, 1905 - Royal Siamese Railway first-class compartment
This is civilisation indeed! I could almost be on a Great Northern Railway train from London to York, except that the speed is much slower - a mere 35 mph - and the line unfinished. Yes, I must get off at Nakhon Ratchasima and undertake the arduous mountain crossing on horseback. I was sorry to part company with Van Helsing, but he insisted that the University of Tha Prachan was the best place to commence his ethnological studies.
3 July, 1905 - The Chao Muang’s Palace at Sukothai
When I stepped off the train I stepped out of the 20th century and back into the dark ages. The remainder of my journey was a nightmare of heat and dust, and when I eventually found the Chao Muang’s palace, I was ready to drop. I was welcomed by the Chao Muang’s chief minister, Chow Phya Rattamontrii - who fortunately speaks good English - and shown to my quarters, which are cool and clean, if not exactly comfortable. An antechamber leads from the room, in which are arrangements for washing – but do not think of running water! – only a large jar of water, a bowl and a commode. Two maids - mere children - sit cross-legged outside my door ready to wait on me hand and foot. They brought me refreshments, but the food is so spicy it burns my mouth, and the rice wine tastes more of rice than wine. Above all, I need rest, but there is nothing resembling a chair for me to sit on, and worse, when I tried to lie down, I found that the bed is as hard as a board and the ‘pillow’ is made of wood!
4 July, 1905 - a note on the history of Chiang Mai
From my conversations with Minister Rattamontrii, I have managed to piece together an outline of the history of Chiang Mai. The city was founded by King Mengrai in 1292, making it 613 years old at the time of my visit. Mengrai founded a dynasty that ruled the north for 200 years. The kingdom of Chiang Mai reached its height in the late 15th century under King Tilokaracha, who commissioned a special temple (Wat Jed Yod) for the Eighth Buddhist Conference celebrating Buddhism's 2000th anniversary, which he convened here in 1477. During one of the many wars between the Kingdoms of Siam and Burma, Chiang Mai fell under Burmese rule in the late 16th century, and remained under their rule for 200 years. When King Taksin finally expelled the Burmese in the late 18th century, he claimed Chiang Mai, which became a tributary of the kingdom of Siam. During the 19th century increasing Western interests in the teak forests of the north, forced King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) to take over the administration in 1892 and replace the princes of Chiang Mai with royal resident commissioners called Chao Muangs. Not long ago, in 1902, the local people rebelled against the Chao Muang because of conscription into forced labour gangs. This resulted in further powers being taken by the central administration in Bangkok. The result is that, at the time of my visit, the Chao Muang, though a rich and influential man, is merely a puppet governor.
5 July, 1905 - the Chao Muang’s harem
I am jotting down a few notes now so that I don’t forget the details of the amazing sight that is unfolding before my eyes - but more of that in a moment.
At about eight this evening, the Minister, Rattamontrii, came to take me to my first meeting with the Chao Muang. He explained that he was taking me to the harem - the outer harem - only the Chao Muang himself may enter the inner harem. He led me through a suite of spacious salons, to a lavishly decorated chamber where the Chao Muang was waiting to meet me. He was alone - there was no sign of the harem girls I had been hoping to see. The Chao Muang is a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long thin moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. I greeted him with a wai - a prayer-like gesture which had been taught to me by Minister Rattamontrii. The Chao Muang said in awkward English, “Welcome to Siam!” Then he shook my hand. This is not a Siamese custom, and he must have been taught the custom imperfectly, for he grasped my hand with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man.2
“We will talk of business tomorrow,” he said, “meanwhile, make yourself at home. I have arranged some entertainment for you.”
He motioned me to sit down on some silk cushions next to a low table on which food and rice wine had been placed. Then, at a signal from the minister, some twenty young girls, followed by a group of female musicians, came into the room. I will now try to describe them as best as I can:
They wear transparent draperies with golden girdles, their arms and bosoms, wholly nude, flashing, as they wave and heave, with barbaric ornaments of gold. The heads are modestly inclined, the hands are humbly folded, and the eyes droop timidly beneath long lashes. Their only garment, the lower skirt, floating in light folds about their limbs, is of very costly material bordered heavily with gold. On the ends of their fingers they wear long "nails" of gold, tapering sharply like the claws of a bird. The dancers, raising their delicate feet, and curving their arms and fingers in seemingly impossible flexures, sway like withes of willow, and agitate all the muscles of the body like the fluttering of leaves in a soft breeze. Their eyes glow as with an inner light; the soft brown complexion, the rosy lips half parted, the heaving bosom, and the waving arms, as they float round and round in wild eddies of dance, impart to them the aspect of fair young fiends.
And there sits the Chao Muang, like the idol of ebony before the demon had entered it! while around him these elfin worshippers, with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes, tossing arms and panting bosoms, whirl in their witching waltz. He is a man to be wondered at - stony and grim.3
Noticing what I am doing, he says suddenly, “Enough of writing! We will attend to business tomorrow! Now you must choose a girl!”
My senses reel at the thought! Is it possible that one of those beauties can be mine! He has signalled to one - no two! They are beside me now - still radiant with the after-glow of their exertion - and so beautiful, their breasts so - bare. I think of Mina, and know I should refuse - but would not that be impolite? To reject the hospitality of mine host could scupper the deal for which I have travelled so far! Now one is stroking my hair, the other has her arm round my waist. I can write no more...
1 & 3. Large sections of the descriptions in this entry are taken verbatim from Leonowens as her descriptions are better, and more authentic, than anything I could come up with. I just love her description of the dancing girls!
2. The description of the Chao Muang is closely based on Stoker’s description of Dracula.
© Rob 2006
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