The King then spoke briefly to his children, translating for Anna as he did so. “Dear children,” he said, “it is our pleasure that you shall be educated in English as well as in your own language. Now as this is an English school, you will have to learn the English modes of salutation, address, conversation, and etiquette. Each and every one of you shall be at liberty to sit in my presence in your chairs when I come to inspect the school. Unless, of course, it is your pleasure not to do so. In this I do not command you. But to study hard and make the best of your opportunities I do command you. This is a privilege no royal children have had before, and you are to make best use of it.” The children all bowed, touching their foreheads to their folded palms on the floor in token of acquiescence.
This ended the ceremony, and His Majesty departed with the priests. The moment he was out of sight the ladies of the court were up from their knees and about the table. With much noise and confusion they began to ask questions, turn over the leaves of the spellers, examine pens and pencils, chatter, giggle. Some were interested in Anna’s clothing, especially her skirts and the hoops that held them in place. She turned to find two of them standing just back of her, in deep discussion of her person.
As she was beginning to wonder whether she should try to organize her school, slaves arrived and bore the royal children off. She was astonished to see, not only the tiny children, but the bigger boys and girls of eight, nine, and ten, apparently quite unaccustomed to walking even short distances. They were carried away in the arms of women, who were their slaves and human vehicles, as unconcernedly as if they had been infants. “Well!” thought Anna in disgust. It seemed another and revolting manifestation of the hydra-headed slavery of the Palace.
She realized that school was over for the day, and that the ceremony had been merely the formal initiation. No one bothered to tell her when she was to begin the actual work of teaching. Apparently she was expected to hold herself ready at all times. “The King will send Gabriel when he wants me again,” she thought with a shrug, and set off to finish moving from the Kralahome’s palace to her own new home.
Anna and Beebe spent the next few days making the house habitable. It had been built where the palace of the Grand Duke, late father of the Kralahome, once stood, and material from the palace had been used in its construction. It was comparatively new for all its dirt.
While the two women bought furniture, hung curtains and pictures, and outfitted the kitchen, Moonshee pottered about in the yard clearing away the mass of rubble that still littered it. Occasionally he paused to bring into the house for Anna’s inspection some piece of stone with a Thai or Cambodian inscription, or a fragmentary carving in bas-relief from the mythology of the Hindus.
One of the upstairs rooms overlooked a long row of conjoined houses of the Eastern sort, disfigured by the stains and wear of many wet seasons. They were the property of a Mohammedan of patriarchal appearance, who stored sugar in them waiting for a rise in the market. This worthy paid Moonshee a visit every afternoon. His coming was the signal for Moonshee to stop carrying loads of debris to the river and withdraw to the small eastern chamber that had been set aside for his studies and meditations. There the two Moslems propounded solemn questions from the Koran and discussed the neighbors.
From his window Moonshee could see the roofs of most of the houses in the vicinity, huddled together with forms more or less fantastic according to the purse and caprice of the owners. It did not take the old Persian long to learn from his new friend the names of the people who lived under each one, their means and social standing. All of this information he carefully garnered and passed on to Anna. He was childishly pleased to find that they were in a very aristocratic quarter. Most of their neighbors were either members of the powerful Bunnag family, of which the Kralahome was head, or were descendants of Chao Tak, the “Mad King,” whom King Mongkut’s grandfather had driven from the throne because he claimed to be a reincarnation of the Buddha. The only unpleasant aspect of their situation was that the hated interpreter lived almost next door.
By the time Anna was called again to the Palace, the family was established in their home. Beebe already knew at what hour the fat Chinese butcher would paddle by in his narrow boat, and which of the women in their broad hats sculling slowly along had the best mangoes for sale. She hailed them expertly and haggled with them from the narrow quay at the river’s edge as if she had been doing it for years. The family slipped easily into a familiar routine: on awakening, morning tea and fruit, then baths, breakfast and work; at twelve, tiffin, mid-day siestas, and more work; at four, tea, followed by study, dinner, and then bedtime, with stories and songs for Boy.
Just a week from the day of the formal opening, the serious business of school began. Gabriel put in his chuckling appearance and Anna and Boy set out across the river with him. On this second Thursday a crowd of half-naked children followed them from the dock to the Palace gates. There Gabriel turned them over to a consequential female slave, who was squatting on the ground chewing betel while she waited for them.
When they reached the wall of the Inside the ponderous gate swung open grudgingly to the slave’s shouted command, and only wide enough to admit a single person. They squeezed through one at a time and it closed behind them. Before the opposite gate on the inner side of the thick wall was opened, the Amazons of the guard scrutinized them carefully. There was a heated discussion lasting several minutes. One of the guards seemed to question the propriety of admitting Boy. A second countered with a sharp remark, coarsely jocular, for guffaws greeted it, and then they were allowed to enter. Once again they went through the long covered passage ways and the oval door of brass into the orange grove. A little breeze riffled the tops of the palm trees making them sigh gently. In the dim cool pavilion the chairs were arranged as before, at the center of the hall.
Several old women, who had evidently been posted near the door to await Anna’s arrival, flew off in various directions when she appeared. About an hour later they returned with twenty-one of the King’s children. Anna was given a list of their names written in the King’s own hand. The names were so difficult that she felt it would be some time before she would remember them, and she copied them carefully into a notebook:
Princess Ying Yaowalak
Princess Thaksincha
Princess Somawadi
H.R.H. Prince Chao-fa Chulalongkorn
Princess Sri Phatana
Princess Praphat
Princess Phak Phimonphan
Princess Manya Phathon
H.R.H. Princess Chao-fa Chanthara Monthon
Prince Krita Phinihan
Princess Srinak Sawat
Prince Khakanang Yukhon
Princess Kannika Kaeo
Prince Suk Sawat
Prince Thawi Thawanya Lap
Prince Thongkon Yai
Prince Kasemsan Sophak
Prince Komalat Loesan
H.R.H. Prince Chao-fa Chaturon Ratsami
Prince Unakan Ananda Norachai
Prince Kasem Sri Suphayok
The youngest of the royal children was only five, the oldest ten. It was not long before they were ranged around the long table with a Webster before each one, open at the first page. Anna placed Louis at the foot of the table while she went to the head.
The lesson began. Anna said the letters of the alphabet and the children recited them after her. Boy’s face was serious with responsibility. He had mounted a chair, the better to command his division. He mimicked his mother with a fidelity of tone and manner that amused and pleased her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him pointing with his small finger to one letter after the other as his class looked on, letters that were so strange to them and not perfectly familiar to him.
About noon a number of young women were brought to Anna to be taught like the children, but no list of their names was given. She received them with smiles, and began to note their names in her book as they repeated them to her. For some reason this sim
ple action created a panic. She did not know their language well enough to discover why, but she put down the memorandum book and continued the lesson. “Ba-be-bi-bo,” she said loudly and clearly. And “ba-be-bi-bo” the royal children chanted in unison. Gradually as the lesson proceeded the concubines recovered from their alarm.
When their confidence was restored they began boldly to take an inventory of Anna’s person that was anything but agreeable. Evidently their teacher was much more interesting to them than their lessons. They fingered her hair and extracted some of the hairpins to examine them. One tried to put a hairpin in her own locks, but it dropped out and they all laughed, for her hair was cut in a short brush not more than three inches long, as was that of all the women. They felt Anna’s dress, particularly the belt and collar, and then her rings. She discovered two of them flat on their stomachs trying to peek under her skirt.
“For goodness sake! What is the matter?” she asked in annoyance. “What do you want to know about my feet?” From one who spoke Malay she finally learned that the Palace had been seething with excited discussion of her figure ever since her first appearance. The bell-shape of her hoopskirts had convinced some of the harem ladies that she belonged to a totally different species from themselves, with a body that grew larger and larger downward and ended in pedal extremities big enough to fill the vast circle of her skirt.
“Mercy!” Anna exclaimed with a laugh, and lifted her hoops far enough for them to see that her feet and legs were like theirs, except for the boots and hose she wore.
“Ah-ah-ah!” they all breathed, entranced by this new knowledge.
Then a slave crouched down in front of Anna and pointed at the Englishwoman’s nose. She wanted to know, it seemed, whether Anna’s nose had grown long from much pulling, and also whether it had to be arranged every morning to keep it so. Anna assured her that the size of the nose was not a matter of exercise or volition on the part of its owner, but a work of nature. The slave clucked in sympathy and turned away fingering her own flat nose gratefully.
In the meantime one of the girls had put on Anna’s cloak and bonnet and was making a promenade of the pavilion, mimicking teacher’s walk with considerable success to the delighted shrieks of the rest. Another had pounced on her veil and gloves and disguised herself in them. The children abandoned their studies and laughed boisterously.
The laughter brought a grim duenna from the outer porch. Her wrathful expression was in itself enough to restore order. Instantly bonnet, cloak, veil, and gloves were flung right and left and the young ladies of the harem and their slaves dropped to the floor repeating shrilly “ba-be-bi-bo.” The old woman looked balefully around and then squatted near the door and the lesson was resumed.
One young consort, whose artlessness made her seem hardly more than a child, had evidently studied English before. She scorned the alphabet and demanded to be steered at once into the mid-ocean of the speller. But when Anna abandoned her in an archipelago of hard words she soon raised signals of distress.
A few of the concubines began to drift away, already bored with the effort of learning. But at the far end of the table one was studying with rapt attention. She was a pale young woman, dejected and forlorn. She bent over a little prince, obviously her son, with her eyes riveted on the letters that Louis was naming to her. Anna had noticed her first during the commotion that had interrupted the lesson. She alone of the whole group had paid no attention to the hubbub around her. Instead she had kept her eyes on her book, repeating to herself the strange names of the letters, as if the merriment of the others had no meaning for her. Now she stood apart and alone, concentrating on mastery of the alphabet with the help of her small teacher. When the hour for dismissal came she repeated the entire lesson to Boy, who sat listening with imposing gravity. She finished the lesson correctly and Louis pronounced her a “very good child indeed,” and told her kindly that she might now go.
A flush of pleasure stirred in her face, but when she saw that Anna was watching her with curiosity, she crouched almost under the table, as if to admit that she had no right to be there and was worthy only to pick up such crumbs of knowledge as fell from the feast of the others. Anna looked at her more closely and saw that she was not so young as she at first appeared. Nor was she pretty, except for her eyes, which were dark and profound. They were expressive eyes, full of reserve and sadness, and they were looking at Anna now in an agony of alarm.
Anna decided that it was the part of prudence, as well as of kindness, to appear unconscious of the other woman’s presence, and so encourage her to come again. She put on her hat, veil, and gloves, and took Louis’s hand. They walked out past the crouching woman, still half under the table in pathetic eagerness to remain unnoticed, and left the Palace before the King awakened from his afternoon nap. Anna guessed that the concubine had somehow fallen under his displeasure. In the universe of the harem with its thousands of moons circling the single great sun of the King, such disfavor was a terrible calamity. All the way home Anna thought about the concubine. Here, perhaps, was someone who would welcome a new world of knowledge to replace the pomp and circumstance that had collapsed about her.
14
THE RED SNAKE
When the first confusion was over, the school was quickly organized. Classes began immediately after the nine o’clock service of worship in the temple. Anna had to attend this in order to muster her pupils. The long table, inlaid and heavily gilded, at which the little princes and princesses would presently take up their studies, was the same on which were laid offerings of food for the priests of Buddha. There also were placed bronze censers and golden vases, from which rose clouds of fragrant incense and the perfume of flowers. For the brief period of the service the gloom of the vast temple was relieved by the rich colors of the silks and satins, the gold and jewels of the regal worshipers, and by the deep saffron of the priests’ robes. When the priests, looking neither to right nor left, had withdrawn, and the ladies of the harem had retired, school began.
Mornings were devoted entirely to the royal children, some of whom quickly showed promise of becoming excellent scholars. In the afternoons any of the women who were interested were encouraged by the King to be present at the classes. They were never regular, however, as were the children—with the exception of the pallid young woman whom Anna had noticed on the first day. She came every afternoon without fail and squatted behind her son or leaned over his shoulder, studying with an intensity and absorption that would have set her apart if her dejected appearance had not done so.
It was some time before Anna won her confidence enough to ask her her name. When she did, she found it inexpressibly charming. For it was “Son Klin,” which meant “Hidden Perfume.” Anna was conscious of a sweetness under the sober exterior of the concubine and thought the name wonderfully apt. But she was too wise to single the woman out for special help or attention until she could do so unobtrusively. She realized that such attention would be noted instantly by the jealous eyes of the harem, and would add somehow to the crushing load of sorrow that Lady Son Klin carried. The concubine needed no special help, however. Her keen interest carried her along as rapidly as the best pupil in the class.
Once the routine of the school was established Anna had time to examine her surroundings. The Palace, and especially the harem, was a world in itself. When Anna and Louis entered the great double portals each morning they left the ordinary realm behind and stepped into a glittering kingdom out of The Arabian Nights.
The first places that Anna explored were the three temples around which the city of the Nang Ham, the Forbidden Women, had taken root and gradually grown. They were remarkable. The one in which Anna taught was called “The Temple of the Mothers of the Free.” (The name Thai means “free.”) It had formerly been dedicated to the mother of Buddha as its ancient name of Manda Maha Gotama showed. The second was dedicated to Buddha Thapinya, Buddha the Omniscient, and the third and most beautiful to Buddha Annando, or Buddha the Infinite.
The general effect of these buildings was not unlike that of some great cathedral in southern France. Each was a square two hundred feet long with double rows of windows all around. The windows were flanked by pilasters and crowned with spiral canopies. At the center of each side rose a lofty anteroom terminating in an immense gabled façade. These vestibules converted the temples into vast Greek crosses. The roofs rose in diminishing terraces to pyramidal steeples like Hindu shivalas, and these in turn were crowned by spires of gold rising more than a hundred and fifty feet from the ground.
The interiors were two concentric corridors with large recesses for the images, some standing, some sitting, and some in the attitude of preaching from a high lotus-shaped pulpit made of the great snake, the Naga, whose cobra head formed a shade for the preacher. The vaulted cell in the main chamber of each temple, where the central figure was seated, reached to the second or third level of the roof. From a small window in the roof itself there streamed downward on the head of the colossus a flood of sunlight with wonderful effect.
No one seemed able to satisfy Anna’s curiosity about the origin of the three magnificent temples. Even the name of the builder had been forgotten. People whom she asked said vaguely that according to tradition the temples had stood there for more than a thousand years, embedded in what had once been a sacred grove of olive, palm, and bo trees. Long before Bangkok had been founded in 1782 as the capital of the kingdom these temples had attracted pilgrims from all parts of the East, particularly women, who came to perform vows or to offer votive sacrifices at the shrines.
The first king of the Chakri dynasty, whose claim to the throne left vacant by the ravages of the Burmese wars had been ability rather than royal blood, chose the site of the triad temples as the seat of his government. He ordered the Chinese trading village that surrounded them cleared away and removed his palace from the west to the east bank of the Chow Phya to found the city of Bangkok. He had surrounded it with triple walls and called it the “great city of the angels.”
Anna and the King of Siam Page 13
