CHAPTER XXXVI.
MR COLQUHOUN’S ARRIVAL—PRINCE DEVAN—CHARACTER OF THE KING—VISIT TO PRINCE DEVAN—MEMORANDUM ON THE RAILWAYS—GRANT REQUIRED FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION—INTERVIEW WITH THE KING—TERMS REQUIRED BY SYNDICATES—SIAM‘S CREDIT—THE CONNECTION WITH BURMAH—EXCURSION INTO EASTERN SIAM—NAI SIN—AN OFFICIAL OF 2500 MARKS—POO BAH—GOLDEN OPPORTUNITIES—TRUMPERY FORTIFICATIONS—AFTER THE STORM—THE BANG PA KONG RIVER—LEGEND OF THE KOW DIN—AN INFATUATED MONK—CHINESE IN SIAM—ESTIMATE OF POPULATION—CHINESE IMMIGRANTS AND THEIR DESCENDANTS—MARKING THE PEOPLE—UNSCRUPULOUS GOVERNMENT MASTERS—THEIR LITTLE GAMES—A VAST PLAIN—LITTLE CULTIVATION—LOVELY SCENERY—TRAMWAY TO THE GOLD-MINES—RETURN TO BANGKOK—DR M‘GILVARY’S OPINION UPON THE PROJECTED RAILWAYS—ONE OF THE GRAND WORKS OF THE CENTURY.
When Mr Colquhoun arrived, Mr Satow arranged an interview for us with Prince Devawongse. This prince, who is colloquially termed Prince Devan, like most Siamese is small in stature. His appearance was boyish, and although perhaps thirty years of age, he did not look more than twenty. He was then acting as private secretary to the king, filled the post of Chancellor of the Exchequer, and had the character of being a person of great tact, discretion, and ability. His post as confidential adviser to the king must have been a difficult one, because his Majesty, although well-meaning and even well-doing by spurts, is said to be infirm of purpose and irresolute, indulging in half-measures, and becoming wearied and languid before he has fully carried out a reform. There is therefore no continuity in his actions, and he becomes exasperated at constantly recurring abuses being thrust upon his attention. One cannot expect much continuous energy or backbone in a potentate who is credited with a harem containing about eight hundred wives and concubines.
Prince Devan, who is believed to be in earnest in wishing to reform the administration of the country and to ameliorate the condition of the people, received us courteously, and after shaking hands, offered us cigars and ordered tea to be served. We entered into the purpose of our visit, explained the advisability of opening up Siam by railways, and of connecting it with our seaport of Maulmain, and pointed out on a map the direction of the projected lines. He listened with great attention, discussed the matter intelligently, and remarked that his Majesty the king was fully awake to the importance of developing the resources of the country by means of railways. The king, he said, had always been well-disposed towards England, and would look favourably upon the project for connecting his dominions with Burmah. He would arrange an interview for us with the king, and would be obliged if we would send him a memorandum on the subject of the projected railways to lay before his Majesty before we were presented.
In the memorandum drawn out by us and forwarded to the prince we proposed[[29]]—
(1) A main line from Bangkok to Kiang Hsen.
(2) A branch line to Luang Prabang.
(3) A branch line to Korat.
(4) A branch line to connect the main line with Maulmain.
We pointed out the commercial, strategic, and administrative advantages of our projected system, and entered into the methods of construction, explaining that the railways might be executed by one of the following three methods:—
(a) By the State out of Government funds.
(b) By granting concessions (land, &c.) and a small guarantee.
(c) By granting a considerable guarantee, pure and simple.
We stated that should the king sanction the introduction of railways, it would be for his Majesty to decide on which system they should be constructed. If by either the second or third, we believed a private company could be formed in London to undertake the enterprise on moderate terms.
We then entered into the advisability of further explorations and surveys being carried out, and said if his Majesty thought fit to grant £3500 towards the Exploration Fund for their execution, Mr Colquhoun or I would be willing to carry them out without drawing pay from the fund, as our services had been volunteered and given gratuitously to the work. Copies of this memorandum were submitted through Mr Satow to the Foreign Office and the Government of India.
We found the king an intelligent-looking young man, about thirty years of age, erect and well built, with a handsome face for a Siamese, a slight moustache, and his hair cut and arranged, with its parting in the middle, in European fashion. Although understanding English, the king spoke in Siamese, Prince Devan acting as interpreter. Annoyed, perhaps, at Mr Colquhoun’s plain-speaking letters to the ‘Times,’ his Majesty addressed his remarks chiefly to me. After entering very fully into our projects, and following the lines pointed out on the map, he said that the matter required careful consideration, and he must consult with his Ministers before determining upon his action.
Shortly after the interview Prince Devan assured us that the king had expressed himself strongly in favour of the railways, and would probably give his decision in a few days, on his return from his country residence, which he was about to visit. He likewise said his Majesty wished us to inquire in London and Calcutta what terms would be likely to be required by English syndicates who might be willing to undertake the projected railways, so as to enable him to judge whether or not it would be expedient to grant the required concessions. Mr Colquhoun replied that he was obliged to return at once to China, but I would remain in Bangkok to await the decision, and if his Majesty desired it, would be willing to negotiate the matter with secrecy and without delay.
Next day Mr Colquhoun left with Mr Scott, after giving me the names of people from whom I might gain the required information, and I removed from the hotel to Mr Satow’s house. Having procured the intelligence by wire, I had another interview with the prince, and told him that the lowest terms mentioned had been a seven per cent guarantee, with free land for construction purposes, but that perhaps a smaller guarantee would be required if the king granted leave for the timber necessary for the undertaking to be extracted free of duty from the forests. He considered, or pretended to consider, the terms very high, and said that the Siamese Government could borrow money at an interest considerably less than the guarantee, and construct the railway itself, which he considered would be preferable, as the railways would then be theirs. I said I was not aware that Siamese credit stood higher than that of China, and that China had to pay about seven per cent for her recent loans.[[30]] He could, however, easily settle the question by telegraphing to their consul-general in London.
He then asked me whether I knew for certain that the Indian Government would be willing to carry out its part of the Burmo-Siamese connection, as it would be useless for the Siamese to construct their branch to the frontier if the Indian Government did not intend to meet and join the Siamese line. I replied that there could be no reasonable doubt on the subject. The Chambers of Commerce, who represent our manufacturing and mercantile communities, had for the last quarter of a century been constantly urging our Government to connect Burmah with China, and our projected connection viâ Northern Siam was the only feasible one that could be made. The cost of the branch to the Indian Government would be but small, the benefits to be derived from it would be immense; it was therefore most improbable that a great commercial nation like England would let slip such an opportunity for increasing its trade. He might entirely remove that doubt from his mind; for if the Indian Government were to hesitate in the matter, our commercial classes, who formed the voting power of our nation, would insist upon its being carried out.
After remaining for some time in Bangkok visiting the sights of the place, which have been fully described by Carl Bock in his ‘Temples and Elephants,’ and by other travellers, I made an excursion with Mr Satow into Eastern Siam in a steamer belonging to Nai Sin. Nai Sin, in his stockings—all Siamese nobles wear stockings, and are as proud of them and as fastidious in their choice as our fashionable ladies are of their bonnets—stood a miniature swarthy Bacchus, some 5 feet 3 inches in height, and considerably more in circumference. Like Poo Bah in the “Mikado,” he held many dignified posts, was Deputy Lord Mayor, Town Magistrate, Commissioner of Rice Exports, and general go-between to the palace and to all distinguished foreigners visiting the capital. He bore the official title of Phya Thep Phaloo. His rank was denoted by 2500 marks, and he was proud of being a Siamo-Chinese and a near relation of George Washington, the late Chow Hona, or second King of Siam. When granted an audience with the king or with Prince Devan, Phya Thep Phaloo fetched you in his carriage, ushered you through the burlesquely clad guards, and acted as master of the ceremonies as far as the steps of the presence-chamber, and conducted you safely home again.
Surely one would imagine, until acquainted with the manners and customs of the place, that such a distinguished, trusted, and useful factotum would receive a salary for such multifarious duties a little above that of his theatrical representative, or at the very least above that of a parish beadle at home; but such was not the case. The Deputy Lord Mayor, Magistrate of the capital of Siam, High Chamberlain, Gold-Stick-in-Waiting, rejoiced in a pittance of 200 Siamese ticals a year, the equivalent of £20 in English money. Such pay for such appointments, of course, implied nearly unlimited patronage, pickings, and such “insults” as Poo Bah and Siamese officials cheerily pocket. I do not assert that Nai Sin profited by his many golden opportunities, but if he did not, and general rumour is to be believed, he forms nearly the single official exception in the realm of Siam.
Anyhow, Nai Sin looked the picture of a thriving and prosperous man, owned rice-mills and fields, houses and a steamer, wives, concubines, cattle and slaves, beamed with good-nature—or a very good semblance to it—was a capital companion, and gave me one of the pleasantest holidays I ever enjoyed in my life. By 5 A.M. we were on board the steamer, with our bedding, servants, and baggage, and in a few minutes were steaming slowly down the river in a thick mist which hid the beautiful orchards that skirt the river and delude the stranger as to the real size of the suburbs.
Two hours later we were passing Paknam and the pretty pagoda-decked islands in the river, and smiling at the trumpery fortifications that had been erected, under the supposition that they would tend to frighten a hostile fleet from endeavouring to enter the river. It is needless to say that one or two of our modern gunboats could not only silence these batteries in a few moments, but demolish the ludicrously armed and manned tin-pot vessels that his Majesty pleases to term his fleet.
Leaving the river, we quickly crossed the bar, and soon felt the unpleasant effects of a heavy swell, arising from a strong gale that had been blowing a few hours before. Passing junks partially dismasted, endeavouring to make headway with the remnant of their mat-sails which had been blown to tatters, and winding through fishing and mussel stakes driven into the bed of the sea, we were glad to enter the mouth of the Bang Pa Kong river and steam once more in quiet waters.
Journeying up the river, we passed several small villages, in which the space between the ground and the floor of the houses, some six or eight feet, was nearly filled with the shells of mussels, in which small pearls are frequently found, and reached the Kow Din, or “cut off” of the river, formed by a wood-cutter making a ditch for drawing his boat over the neck of a bend. The ditch rapidly widened, thus shortening the course of the river by several miles.
Nai Sin told me a story concerning this Kow Din. It appears that a few years ago, when the cut off was yet only 70 feet in breadth, a famous Buddhist monk arrived at the place. Finding his progress stopped by the ditch being too deep to wade across, and believing in the power of his merit, he faced his disconcerted disciples and addressed them thus: “Stay where you are, and I, by the power of my merit, will become a bridge for you to pass over. After crossing this stream, you can restore me to my natural shape by pouring consecrated water upon my head.” He then plunged into the river, and taking the form of a monstrous crocodile, stretched across from bank to bank. A mouse was never yet found to bell the cat. How could the infatuated monk expect such perfect faith in his disciples as to make them tread across such a horribly hideous bridge? Human nature had its way: no sooner was the miracle performed than the disciples, glancing at the huge reptile, as if by general consent fled homewards.
The Bang Pa Kong river is very serpentine in its course; so we did not reach Toon Chang, the village where Nai Sin had his mill, until three o’clock in the afternoon. The village was occupied by Chinese from Swatow—married to Siamese and Lao wives—and by pigs. The population of the various villages we passed on the river consisted chiefly of Cambodians, Cochin-Chinese, Lao, a few Siamese, and Chinamen. Chinamen in Siam seem to be ubiquitous. Half the population of the Meh Nam delta is Chinese, and very few of the people are without some trace of Chinese blood in them. The Chinese are neither serfs nor slaves, and can go as they will throughout the country. Mr Eaton, the able and painstaking American Baptist missionary in Bangkok, who attends to the Chinese section of the Mission, terms them the Americans of the East. They are the tax-gatherers, and, jointly with the king’s favourites, the monopolists of the taxes of the country. Nearly all the trade is in their hands. They are the shopkeepers, shoemakers, bricklayers, carpenters, tailors, gardeners, and fishermen of Siam; the owners and agents of some of the steamers; the coolies employed in the mills; they man the cargo-boats and unload the ships; and are considered by Europeans the best servants in the country. They are frugal in their habits, quick to learn, and utilise everything. According to M. Gaston Rautier, in an article in a recent number of the ‘Revue Française,’ the most recent estimate of the population of Siam puts it down at about 10,000,000, roughly composed of over 3,000,000 Siamese, 3,000,000 Chinese, 1,000,000 Malays, 1,000,000 Cambodians, 1,300,000 Lao, and about 400,000 Peguans, Karens, and other tribes. The Chinese, therefore, form about a third of the population of Siam, and are nearly as numerous as the Siamese.
Chinese immigrants not European subjects are considered by the Siamese to be under their jurisdiction, and are subjected to the laws of the realm. After three years’ residence, and at the close of every three years from that date, they have to pay a tax of 4¼ ticals, equivalent to 8s. 6d. They are exempted from corvée labour, and all other Government requisitions, except the ordinary taxes. Their children have the option of submitting to the triennial tax, or of selecting a Government master and becoming Siamese. The grandchildren of Chinese immigrants are classed and registered as Siamese, and are liable to corvée labour as soon as they measure 2½ sok, or 50 inches, to the shoulder, and are marked to one or other Government master. The mark is tattooed on the back of the right or left wrist, and all persons thus marked are liable to be called out in their master’s department.
The people and the Government are both imposed upon by the unscrupulous officials. Marked men die. The master avers that the man had not served for a number of years, and claims arrears of money, equivalent to the value of the labour he has omitted to do, from his wife and family. As certificates for times served are not given, no available proof can be brought to show the dishonesty of the master’s claim. Either the sum must be paid or a paper of indebtedness must be made out giving the master the power of selling the family, or as many of them as will cover the amount of the declared deficit.
Another mode of making money out of the people is as follows: On receiving an order for the services of a certain number of men, the master calls many more than are required, and says he has to choose so many from them. They all naturally want to beg off: those who offer the smallest bribe have to serve. If instead of men being requisitioned, the order is for posts, or other materials, oppression comes similarly into play. Some years ago the king requisitioned ten posts from the minister of certain provinces, the minister ordered twenty from the governor, who ordered forty from the Samien, who ordered eighty from the masters of the prai-luangs, who made the prai-luangs cut a hundred and sixty, on the plea that some of them would be hollow or otherwise imperfect.
Nai Sin’s mill is marked on the charts as the English mill, having been built and owned for many years by an English firm who employed him as their manager, until in time he became a partner, and ultimately owner of the mill. The Blue Mountains, to the south of the entrance of the river, had now faded into space, and the country had the appearance of a dead level. To the west the plain extends for more than 100 miles to the foot of the spurs of the Tenasserim range. To the east it reaches some 250 miles, with hardly a perceptible water-parting, then turning to the south-east embraces the Tali Sap, or great Lake of Cambodia. To the north and north-east it stretches 50 miles or more to the foot of the Dong Phya Phai, or forest of the Fire King, the fever-infested hills to the south of the Korat plateau. On the south it is bounded by the sea and by the Blue Mountains, which contain the celebrated sapphire-mines.
As we passed up the river we found the land on both banks cultivated as gardens, sugar-cane plantations, and rice-fields; and from the many straggling villages along the course of the rivers and canals, one would conclude that the country was thickly populated—but this is not the case. Agriculture ceases a short distance from the banks, and not more than one-twentieth of this vast and rich plain is under cultivation.
The scenery in Indo-China is indeed exquisitely beautiful: the streams wind continuously through ever-changing foliage; with here and there a house, pagoda, or temple peeping out from the trees; children playing on the banks; people going to and coming from market in their little dug-outs, the boats of the poor. Here and there a yellow-robed monk, paddled along by the pupils of his school, on his morning mission to collect from the religiously disposed the daily food for his monastery. Men, women, and children, seemingly fearless of the numerous crocodiles which infest the river, swimming about, laughing, screaming, joking, and splashing each other. A hop-o’-my-thumb astride of a huge buffalo, until the brute gets rid of him by rolling in the water. Here a gang of men and women fishing with baskets or with fling-nets. The whole scene teems with life, and the people seem gay notwithstanding the life they are born to. We continued up the river as far as the tramway leading to the deserted goldmines, near where the telegraph line crosses the stream, and then returned to Bangkok.
On our arrival I found Dr M‘Gilvary had written to the local newspaper strongly advocating the construction of the Siamese main line and its connection with Burmah. He gave his opinion in these words: “Considering its prospective influence on the civilisation and development of the whole of South-eastern Asia, and its probable, if not certain, extension to China, I verily believe it may be classed with the Suez Canal and the great American Pacific Railway as one of the grand works of the century.”
I trust that the Governments concerned in the construction of the Burmah-Siam-China Railway may come to the same conclusion, and that this great work, so important for the extension of British trade and for the civilisation of South-eastern Asia, may soon be carried into execution.