The Pridi Banomyong Library Rare Book Room, Thammasat University, Tha Prachan campus, owns a number of rare and useful items of potential interest to students and researchers, especially those interested in history, literature, education, political science, Asian studies, and related subjects.
Among them is the book Siam: Land of Free Men by Herbert Girton Deignan.
Herbert Girton Deignan was an American ornithologist who worked extensively on the birds of Thailand.
The TU Library collection includes several books on Thai ornithology.
Born in New Jersey, Herbert Deignan attended Princeton University where he became interested in birds and Siam.
After graduating in 1928, he took a job as Master at the Prince Royal’s College in Chiang Mai, where he worked until 1932.
Deignan remained in Siam intermittently until 1937 and amassed a large collection of birds for the United States National Museum (USNM) and also sent many specimens back to his instructors at Princeton University.
From 1934 to 1935, he worked at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC, cataloguing items in Sanskrit and Siamese.
During World War II, Deignan served in the Office of Strategic Services, 1944-1946, primarily in southern Asia.
Shortly before this, in 1943, he published Siam: Land of Free Men.
He also conducted field work for the USNM in Thailand, 1952-1953.
His book explains:
The basin of Eastern Siam, with its thin vegetation and cut off from cooling breezes by its surrounding rim, is subject to terrific heats during the day and, during the winter, very low temperatures at night. The central plain, outside of Bangkok, is pleasantly cooled during the hottest season by the continuous sea winds, night and day; in Bangkok, however, perhaps owing to houses of masonry in place of thatch and the drainage of surrounding marshes, the climate is not only appallingly hot but actually becoming perceptibly more so year by year.
Peninsular Siam has the mildest and most equable climate, the greatest annual rainfall, and only two noticeable seasons—the hot weather from February to August and the rains from September to January, with the peak of the wet season coming in December.
Owing to the fact that the political frontiers have little relationship to biogeographical boundaries, the Kingdom possesses a fauna and flora richer than those of most areas of comparable size. The primeval jungles of the western and northern mountains show untrammeled Nature at her tropical best. The slopes are enlaced with countless streams and waterfalls, from roaring torrents to rills which flow only during and after the rains.
In the forests of these hills and valleys, huge epiphyte-laden trees, bound together by vines, shelter such animals as the elephant, the tiger, and the gaur, but so dense is the cover that the presence of large game is more often made known by signs than by actual sight, and only the hunter who is willing to work hard and long is likely to shoot a worth-while trophy.
More than 1,000 different birds are recorded from the country, while fishes of almost endless variety abound everywhere, from the Gulf to the smallest roadside ditches. The natural vegetation ranges from the most typically tropical plants, such as the mangosteen, to forms of the Temperate Zone, such as pines and violets, on the northwestern mountains.
The central plain, where not devoted to rice cultivation, shows the characteristic flora and fauna of a marsh and the eastern plateau has an impoverished biota, characterized by a certain number of endemic forms; the Peninsula, however, like the west and north, bears great forests rich in species of animals and plants. […]
Whether the modern traveler enters Siam by steamer from Hongkong or Singapore or by comfortable Diesel-engined train from the Malay States, his destination is certain to be Bangkok. Here, in bewildering juxtaposition, the old Siam and the new Thailand confront him together on every side. The former is represented in the complicated network of canals, upon which thousands of boat-dwellers pass their lives; in the narrow streets hung with the vertical signboards of the inevitable multitude of Chinese traders; in the throngs of yellow-robed monks that appear at daybreak from hundreds of gaily colored shrines whose spires arise in every direction.
The new is seen in the modern boulevards lined with spacious wooden houses set among gardens and orchards; in the motorcars competing for space with bicycle-drawn jinrikishas; in the air-conditioned cinema theaters, where, before World War II, were shown the new pictures shipped by air from California; in the cement and match factories; in the great airport of Don Muang, north of the city, where transports arrived daily from Britain and Australia, from Java and The Netherlands.
Until recently, the inhabitants of towns and villages outside the capital lived a life not greatly different from that of their ancestors: one which revolved around the annual cycle of planting, growing, and the harvest, with religious festivals to break the monotony of living. Poverty, as understood in the industrial Occident, was unknown for, while little actual money was seen by the average family during the course of a year, yet a house could be built of bamboo in a day or two; fruit trees bore around the year; clothing was woven at home and shoes were little worn; virtually everyone owned productive land or was at liberty to clear a tract from the forest which covers much of the thinly populated country; taxes were light and could be paid by a few days’ labor on some project of public works.
During the decade just passed the Government has initiated a positive program aimed at raising the standards of living of the common people and especially of the peasants who constitute the great majority. Among the means adopted have been the development of such new sources of gain as the raising of tobacco and cotton on a large scale; the construction of great irrigation projects and the development of sources of electric power; the education of the farmer in livestock breeding and scientific agriculture; the establishment of agencies to enable him to obtain a fair market for his produce; the spread of public-health and medical services in far corners of the provinces. The results of this experiment had not yet become clear when the war interfered to hinder its fulfillment.
The political aspect of the program leaned heavily toward economic nationalism, in an endeavor to counteract the excessive proportion of foreign capital in the country and to encourage more active participation by the Thai in the building-up of their own land. If the means to these laudable ends were perverted, by the paid agents of Japanese propaganda and a handful of powerful men within the Thai Government, to serve the cause of “co-prosperity,” it must not therefore be assumed that the misfortunes which have recently befallen them are traceable to any activities and desires on the part of the Thai people themselves.
A lively resistance to the usurpers continues, inside Thailand and through her spokesmen abroad; we may confidently expect that the Thai, with the aid and sympathy of their friends of the United Nations, will at the earliest opportunity rid themselves both of their quislings and their Japanese overlords, again proudly to style themselves “the free men.”
(All images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)