CHAPTER XXIV.
HOUSE FOR DR CUSHING BUILT IN TWO DAYS—FUMIGATION AND DISINFECTION—BRIBERY AND EXTORTION AT FRONTIER GUARD-HOUSE—TRAVELLERS DELAYED—MR WEBSTER’S JOURNEY—TRADE BETWEEN ZIMMÉ, BANGKOK, AND MAULMAIN; ENHANCEMENT OF PRICES—COMPARISON BETWEEN RUSSIA AND SIAM—OPPRESSION AND TYRANNY CAUSES CUNNING AND DECEIT—SIAMESE THE GREATEST LIARS IN THE EAST—AN AMUSING INTERVIEW WITH A PRINCE—RELIGIOUS BUILDINGS IN ZIMMÉ—DESCRIPTION OF MONASTERIES—BARGAINING WITH AN ABBOT—PALM-LEAF BOOKS—EVIL PRACTICES OF MONKS—SENTENCING THE DESCENDANTS OF CRIMINALS TO SLAVERY—BEGGING FOR MEALS—GIVING, A PRIVILEGE—RULES FOR THE ACOLYTES—SHAVING THE HEAD AND EYEBROWS—TEACHING IN A MONASTERY—LEARNING MANNERS.
A few days before my return to Zimmé the Rev. Mr Martin arrived with his wife from Bangkok, and occupied the half of Dr M‘Gilvary’s house which had formerly been placed at my disposal. It was therefore arranged that Dr Cushing should be placed in a house in Dr Peoples’ grounds, where he could receive proper nursing and medical attendance. This building had been erected as soon as it was known that Dr Cushing was suffering from smallpox. With plenty of labour and materials at hand, such a house, built of bamboos, with mat walls and flooring and thatched roof, can be easily completed in two days.
A wealthy Chinaman who had for some years worked the Government spirit and opium farms, and owned a large vacant teak-built, shingle-roofed house near the Presbyterian Mission, had courteously placed it rent free at the disposal of Mr Webster on his reaching Zimmé with his wife and little girl from where we left them at the Shan frontier-post. The house being very roomy, and the Websters without fear of contagion, half of this building was handed over for my use.
On seeing my elephant halt outside his garden, Dr M‘Gilvary came out to bid me welcome and let me know what arrangements had been made. He advised me to have a grand fumigation of myself, servants, and things, and to be revaccinated as soon as possible. He had already been purified, and was going at once to Dr Peoples to be vaccinated.
On reaching the monopolist’s house, I was welcomed by Mr and Mrs Webster, and by little Sunshine their daughter, but would not shake hands with them until I had been fumigated and freshly rigged out. I at once sent out for sulphur, and with my boys was soon in a closed room, surrounded with its fumes. All of our things were disinfected by being washed with a strong solution of carbolic acid. After my short quarantine I had tea and a long talk with the Websters, who had been detained for a week after we left the guard-house, owing to their conscientious objections to bribing the official in command of the guard.
This Jack-in-office, therefore, instead of aiding them as was his duty, had purposely prevented the neighbouring Karen elephant-owners from hiring their elephants to Mr Webster, all the time telling him that he could not force the men to let him have the animals. The Christian Karens accompanying Mr Webster warned him that he would have to get the elephants through the grasping official, as part of the hire was looked upon by him as his perquisite, and the Karens dare not hire them without his leave. Such behaviour on the part of the frontier officials is a serious hindrance to trade and communication, and should be strongly represented to the Siamese and Shan Governments. Even when tired out by Mr Webster’s persistency, and threatened with being reported to the Zimmé chief and the King of Siam, the official only allowed the Karens to let him have elephants to carry his things for two short marches, at the end of which he had to halt for four days to procure a fresh relay. In the short journey from the guard-house to Muang Haut, he was thus obliged to change his elephants no less than five times. From a copy of Mr Webster’s journal, I found this route struck eastwards from the guard-house, and was the same as that followed by M‘Leod in December 1836.
After tea Mr Webster accompanied me to the Mission dispensary to call on Dr Peoples and be vaccinated. Although twice vaccinated during my stay at Zimmé, both operations proved ineffective. This could not have been due to the lymph, as it took well on Dr M‘Gilvary, notwithstanding that he had been successfully vaccinated the previous year. I was glad to hear that Dr Cushing’s attack was a slight one, and that the crisis was over. On visiting him, he seemed quite cheered up by being in cosy quarters and under medical supervision, and assured me everything had been done for his comfort, and that he hoped to be about in a few days, and able to leave for Bangkok.
Early the next morning I called on Mr Wilson, who had taken great trouble in finding out the prices of various articles at Maulmain, Bangkok, and Zimmé, and the cost of conveyance. From the written statement made by him it appeared, by the difference in prices, that articles sent from Zimmé to Maulmain were enhanced on arrival according to the following percentages: Elephants, 25 per cent; bullocks, 100 per cent; ponies, 70 per cent; embroidered silks (one grade), 122⅔ per cent; embroidered silks (another grade), 100 per cent; embroidered cotton cloth, 150 per cent. Imports to Zimmé from Maulmain were enhanced on arrival as follows: Gold-leaf, 75 per cent; gold cloth, 15 per cent; broad cloth, 100 per cent; flannel, 32½ to 50 per cent; copper chatties (or pots), 100 to 133⅓ per cent. Exports from Zimmé to Bangkok were enhanced on arrival as follows: Ivory tusks, 30 to 45 per cent, according to size; stick-lac, 42⁷⁄₂₃ per cent; gum-benjamin, 13⅓ per cent; opium, 41³⁄₁₇ per cent; cutch, 22⅔ per cent; hides, 46⅔ per cent; horns, 46⅔ per cent; bee’s-wax, 15½ per cent; honey, 100 per cent; nitre, 33⅓ per cent.
Imports from Bangkok to Zimmé include figured muslins, red muslins, bleached and unbleached muslins, guns, powder, shot, caps, lead, bar-iron, nails, sulphur, kerosene oil, candles, Chinese crockery, matches, cotton yarn, green flannel, which were enhanced at Zimmé by between 12½ and 67 per cent above their price in Bangkok—the percentage varying according to their value, bulk, and weight. Salt, which is a bulky, small-priced article, is enhanced 510 per cent.
After thanking Mr Wilson, I called on the missionary ladies who shared the house with him, and exchanged my light literature for some of theirs that they had read. Amongst the books I thus acquired was ‘Russia,’ by Sir Mackenzie Wallace, which I had not had the pleasure of previously reading. I found it a most interesting work, and was much struck with the strong resemblance that the superstitions and customs of the Finnish tribes bear to those of the Shan and other people in Indo-China.
Take, for instance, Sir M. Wallace’s description of the old religion of the Finnish tribes, and compare it with the superstitions still reigning in Eastern Asia—particularly in China and Indo-China. Then look at the similarity between the power possessed by the Khozain, or Head of the Household in Russia, and that of the Kumlung, or Head of the Household in the Shan States, as described in chapter xii. The laws of inheritance, the procedure for selecting a bride, and the peculiarities of serfdom and slavery, are likewise strikingly similar in the two regions.
Even the tyranny and oppression of the upper classes over the serfs in each country has been similar, and has had a like effect in fostering the habit of perjury and lying. In chapter xxi. Sir M. Wallace accounts for the proneness of the Russian peasant to lying and perjury by stating: “In the ordinary intercourse of peasants amongst themselves, or with people in whom they have confidence, I do not believe that the habit of lying is abnormally developed. It is only when the peasant comes in contact with authorities that he shows himself an expert fabricator of falsehoods. In this there is nothing that need surprise us. For ages the peasantry were exposed to the arbitrary power and ruthless exactions of those who were placed over them; and as the law gave them no means of legally protecting themselves, their only means of self-defence lay in cunning and deceit.”
He goes on to say: “When legitimate interests cannot be protected by truthfulness and honesty, prudent people always learn to employ means which experience has proved to be more effectual. In a country where the law does not afford protection, the strong man defends himself by his strength, the weak by cunning and duplicity. This fully explains the fact—if fact it be—that in Turkey the Christians are less truthful than the Mahometans.”
The Siamese, who for centuries have suffered from the bad old rule—
“That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can”—
are reputed to be the greatest liars in the East, and pride themselves above all things upon their cunning and duplicity.
After looking through the young ladies’ albums and library, and talking over their recent journeys into the district, which were made without other protection than their own Shan servants, I said good-bye, and returned home just in time to receive Chow Hoo-a Muang Kyow[[14]]—the fourth in rank of the chiefs of Zimmé—the father of Chow Nan, who conducted us to Kiang Hai.
The Chow came in state, accompanied by fifteen attendants bearing his gold betel-boxes, water-goblets, and other paraphernalia of rank. On his ascending the stairs, I rose to meet him and exchange the usual greetings—“Chow, sabira?” (“Prince, are you well?”) “Sabi, sabi!” (“Well, well!”). Having no interpreters—Mr and Mrs Webster being out, and my Shans in attendance upon Dr Cushing—the remainder of our conversation was chiefly in dumb show, owing to my knowing only a few sentences of Shan, and my visitor being acquainted with neither Burmese nor English. The interview was therefore more amusing and less instructive than it otherwise might have been.
We, however, got on very well together, sipped our tea, nibbled at biscuits, smoked cigars, drew the usual map with matches on the table, and haggled over the lie of the country. I thus managed to extend my knowledge of the geography of the State—the more so as he frequently explained himself in Shan, and I was beginning to understand much of the language used on such occasions, although still very weak in the power of expressing myself. Then I endeavoured to explain the use of my surveying instruments, and showed him the sketches I had made during the journey, and he seemed to be much interested. Whether interested or not, the visit under the circumstances was evidently rare fun to him; and he was pleased as a schoolboy would be when I presented him with a watch and a few other articles.
Zimmé may be said to be a city of temples and monasteries, and has no less than eighty temples within its walls and suburbs, which were mostly built during the Burmese régime. The monasteries are built in the Burmese style, and consist of a hall divided into two portions: one part level with the verandah, where the scholars are taught; and the other part, where the monks receive their visitors, two feet above the level of the rest of the building.
When the monastery is a large one, cloisters serving as dormitories, and separated by a central passage, surround two or three sides of the hall. In smaller buildings the monks sleep in the hall, and their beds may be seen rolled up, with those of the acolytes and schoolboys, round their pillows against the wall.
In the porch of one of the buildings, I noticed fresco-paintings illustrating the Jataka of Naymee picturing the punishments in the Buddhist hells for various sins. People were being thrown by black torturers into the fire, and thrust down with pitchforks; one man was being bled by a huge leech; another, fastened upright between two posts, was being sawn in two, whilst a dog was at the same time gnawing at him; three people, with their elbows fastened behind and their legs in chains, were being led by a black demon or jailer to punishment; and there were many other fearful sights.
When the monasteries are built of teak, the posts are sometimes of large girth, and the floor is raised 8 or 10 feet above the ground. If the staircase leading up to the broad verandah is of plastered brickwork, the parapets are sometimes coped with great nagas or dragons, or otherwise ornamented and finished off at the foot with images of ogres, rachasis, or other fabulous animals. If the staircase is of wood, the sides, like many other parts of the building, are generally beautifully and fantastically carved with mythological beings intertwined in the scroll-work.
On your entering a monastery the abbot does not rise, but, if accustomed to Europeans, he shakes hands, and calls for a mat for you to sit on, and three-cornered pillows to rest your back and elbows. After the usual compliments, and having partially satisfied his curiosity as to your purpose in visiting the country, where you have been, where you are going, and as to your age, he will very likely tell you his eyesight is much impaired, and more than hint that a present of a pair of spectacles would be acceptable.
If in search of curiosities, you may then express your admiration of the row of images of Buddha standing on a raised stand against the wall in the background, and ask permission to examine them. Before the images you will see offerings of taper candles, flowers, and prayer-flags; and you will notice perhaps that the largest image is made of alabaster, in which case it has been carried all the way from the famous quarries at Moway, which are situated in the range of hills above Sagain in Upper Burmah. Standing about this image, or on a lower shelf, will be other images, some of wood or clay covered with gold-leaf, some of silver having a core of a hard resin, others of soapstone, and some of terra-cotta, the latter resembling Roman Catholic saints in their sculptured niches.
If you wish to bargain for any one of these, the abbot will express himself shocked, and will say that he cannot part with it, as it has been offered to by the people. If you pull out some silver coins, and say that you much wish to have the one you have chosen, he will most likely begin to boggle his eyes, and will perhaps send his scholars off to play, under the pretence that they are a nuisance to you, and, as soon as their backs are turned, commence to haggle over the price like an old Jew. Even when you have come to terms with him, he will, to salve his conscience, exact a promise from you to treat the image with respect, for, if not, ill will happen to you as well as to himself.
Then you may notice several bundles of palm-leaf manuscripts at his side, and two or three manuscript chests near at hand, and express your curiosity as to their contents, which are generally birth-stories of Gaudama, or sermons preached by him, both in Pali or else Shan translations, and explanations by various learned writers. The leaves of these manuscripts are formed of strips, 2 inches wide and 20 inches long, cut out of the leaves of the corypha, or book-palm, rendered smooth and pliable by water and friction. Each collection of leaves is enclosed between two boards, sometimes beautifully carved and gilded, with two wooden pegs, one near each end, to keep the leaves in correct sequence, and to allow them to be raised one after the other as required. When not in use they are either bound round with a crocheted ribbon about an inch and a half broad, with the name, titles, and distinctions of the owner worked on it—or enclosed in a square piece of silk, often with narrow slips of bamboo worked in to give it stiffness.
Some of the larger monasteries have a handsome building erected in their grounds, and set apart for a library, in which are to be found, besides religious books, medical treatises, astrological and cabalistic books, and some treating of alchemy. Such books are not allowed in the monasteries in Burmah. In Siam the study of alchemy has led some of the monks to coin false money. In the Shan States the monks are generally more lax in their observances and rules than in Burmah, and, if rumour is to be credited, are frequently more immoral than laymen; but violations of the laws of chastity are less frequent in Siam than in the Shan States, as the monks in Siam, on their sin being exposed, are severely punished.
In Bangkok, when adultery or fornication is proved against a monk, the culprit is publicly caned, and then paraded round the city for three days, a crier going before him proclaiming his crime. He, and his posterity after him to the utmost remote generation, are then condemned to cut grass for the king’s elephants for life. The woman is condemned to turn the king’s rice-mill for life, and the same punishment is imposed upon her posterity from generation to generation for ever.
When a man becomes a monk he dissolves all secular relations, and cannot be called away to do corvée labour. A husband ceases to be the husband of his wives, and, by the act, his wives are absolved from all obligations towards their husband. Even a king on becoming a monk, if only for a few days, must abdicate the crown and throne during the time that he is in the monastery, and be recrowned and remarried on returning to secular life.
In Siam, the only way a prai-luang can escape the three months’ corvée labour exacted from him by his Government master is by persuading that master to allow him to become a monk. When a monk, his life is one of ease and often of indolence. Early in the morning, about daybreak, he is aroused from slumber by the beating of the great gong, drum, or bell attached to the monastery, and, after washing his face, puts on his yellow robes, suspends his iron begging-bowl over his shoulders, hanging under his left arm, and his fruit-bag on his right elbow, and leaves the monastery, by boat or by land, a little before sunrise.
As he passes along the river or streets, the charitably disposed stand opposite their houses with a basin of smoking rice, curry, pork, venison, eggs, fish, fruit, betel-nuts, seri-leaves, tobacco, and cheroots. When the monks approach, sometimes as many as 10 or 15 in a line, the donors salute them reverently. As the first monk approaches, he removes his upper yellow robe from the hidden begging-bowl, and, still keeping his eyes on the ground, takes off its conical cover, and holds it out to receive one or two half cocoa-nut shells full of rice. Then, after closing his bowl and flinging his robe round it, he extends his fruit-bag for the remaining donations. The donor then murmurs an inaudible blessing, and the monk moves on, giving place to his successor. Thus they proceed from house to house, never making a request, or giving thanks, or even uttering a word. It is considered a favour by the people to be allowed to accumulate merit by making these offerings to the monks. When the monks have collected sufficient for their day’s requirements, they return to the monastery, where they can regale themselves upon the food until noon, after which they must fast until sunrise the next morning. The abbot and other monks of more than ordinary rank do not beg, but have their daily wants supplied by the pious in their neighbourhood.
In case a monk requires anything else besides his daily food, he goes at a later period of the day, and silently stands for a few minutes near the house of the person he hopes to obtain it from. On seeing the monk, the person salutes him respectfully, and asks him what he needs. The monk replies, “My body has met with the necessity” of such a thing, which he names. If the person is unable or unwilling to present it to the monk, he bows low before him, at the same time clasping his hands in front of his face, and says, “Let it please thee, thou lord of favours, to proceed onward, and bestow thy compassion upon somebody else.” The compassion, of course, is the privilege of supplying the particular want of the monk. No monk may, by the rules of his order, ask for anything until he has been requested to name his requirement.
The inmates of the monasteries are divided into three classes—the monks, the nanes (or acolytes), and the pupils. The rules or commandments designed for the monks are 227 in number, and are given by Colquhoun in his interesting work ‘Amongst the Shans.’[[15]] The rules for the nanes are as follows: Take no animal life; do not steal; have no venereal intercourse; do not lie; drink no intoxicating liquor; eat no food after mid-day until daybreak the next morning; adorn not the body, even with flowers, nor make it pleasant by perfumery; be not a spectator at theatrical or musical performances; sleep not on a bed raised higher than one cubit (19½ inches); touch not silver or gold, or anything which passes for money.
Youths may be admitted as nanes at any time above seven years of age, but cannot become monks before being fully twenty years old. To become a monk a man must pass immediately from being a nane. If he has been a nane at some previous time, he must still become one again, and be reinstituted, before he can enter the ranks of the monks. Persons can be admitted as nanes or monks at any time in the year, except from the first evening of the eighth (Siamese) waning moon until the middle of the eleventh. The period which includes the rainy months of the year is termed Wasa, and is the great annual harvest-time for making merit. It is during this season that the monks may not absent themselves for a single night from their monastery. More people become monks in the first half of the eighth month than in any other month of the year.
Previous to being admitted as a monk, or even a nane, the candidate has the hair shaved from his head and eyebrows; and, if he has a beard, has it plucked out by the roots. This ceremony is repeated twice a month by the monks and nanes, on the day preceding the full and new moon of every month. The shaving day is called “Wan Kone.”
The pupils are taught by the monks either in the hall of the monastery, or in a building erected for the purpose in the temple grounds. The parents select the monk by whom they wish their son to be taught, and the monk takes his pupils under his special care; and they are fed and lodged in the monastery. When they have learned to read and write their native characters, they have to study the Cambodian character in Siam (the character in which the Siamese sacred books are written), and the Pali character in the Shan States.
Some of the lads, while in the monastery, learn the first rules of arithmetic, others medicine, some the sacred books, and all the rules of manners. In this latter respect our English board schools might well take a lesson from the rules of the Buddhist monasteries. The rules of etiquette are called Sekiya-wat, and include the adjustment of their robes; walking and sitting in a graceful and becoming manner; how to sit and rise up decently; the attitude of body and mind in which they are to partake their food; behaviour to their superiors and inferiors, and to the pagodas and images; how to behave themselves when begging, and when in the presence of the laity, especially in that of the fair sex.