Money in the Ping States, like charity, covers a multitude of sins; and for most crimes, in fact for all, at the will of the supreme chief the punishment of imprisonment, or even death, can be commuted to fines. As the salaries of the court officials, as well as some of the emoluments of the chiefs, depend upon bribery, fees, and fines, this is naturally the favourite mode of punishment. The higher the fine, the greater the fee, for 20 per cent is added to the fine as a fee for the officials of the court, and 10 per cent for the head judge. Fines for drunkenness are the perquisite of the supreme chief, whether Chow Che-wit (the Lord of Life, the title of the supreme chief of Zimmé and Muang Nan) or Chow Hluang (the title of the chiefs of Lakon, Lapoon, Peh, Luang Prabang, &c.) In cases of theft, double the value of the beast or thing stolen has to be paid to the late owner, as well as the fine to the court. If an elephant is stolen, a fine of 200 rupees has to be paid to the chief by the culprit. If a man cannot pay the fees, award, and fine, he is put into chains, and forced to saw wood, or do other work, receiving no pay or food from the officials whilst a prisoner. He has to beg in chains for his food, and prisoners in chains are frequently seen begging in the market-place, or from house to house. The prisoners are thus fed at the expense of their friends and relations, or, if they have none in the vicinity, by the charitably disposed. The imprisonment lasts until the man is released by the payment of the award and fees, whether by himself or by his friends, and seldom continues more than two or three years, for he is generally released, if impecunious, at the intercession of the lord whose serf he is.
In relation to the hills lying to the east of the city, which I sketched before leaving, the Chow Phya told me the following legend:—
In the time of Gaudama Buddh, Kom-ma Rattsee (the Siamese Komara-pat—the god Rudra, in the Rig Veda, who was worshipped by the ancient Aryans), a famous magician, demigod, and doctor, visited Lakon, and informed the princes and people that by his medicines and charms he could add beauty and restore youth and life to any one, however he might have been dismembered and mangled. A decrepit old prince, who was verging on dotage, and longed for a renewal of his youth, begged the magician to experiment upon him. The doctor, after mincing him up, prepared a magic broth, and, throwing the fragments into it, placed it over the fire. After performing the necessary incantations, the prince, rejuvenated and a perfect beau, was handed out of the pot. He was so pleased with his new appearance, and the new spirit of youth and joy pervading him, that he entreated the magician to reperform the operation, as he thought the first chopping up having been so successful, still greater benefits would accrue from its repetition. On the magician refusing, he clamorously persisted in his request. The demigod, annoyed at his persistence and his covetousness, accordingly minced him up and put him into the pot, where he remains to this day. The hill where the Phya, or prince, was dipped, is called Loi Phya Cheh (the hill of the dipped Phya); and a hill near it is known as Loi Rattsee (Russi), after the magician. Another of the hills is known as Loi Mon Kow Ngam (the hill of the horns of the beautiful wild cow). Poo Chow, the celebrated Lawa monarch, is said to have been killed by the cow whilst pursuing it. He is the tutelary spirit of the district, and is worshipped by the people. The hill on which he was slain is known as Loi Kyoo Poo Chow (the hill of the pass of the revered Chow). Poo, or pu, is a term of high esteem, and means a paternal grandfather.
View of hills east of Lakon.
After relating the legend of Muang Ngow, which I have already referred to, he told us that of Lakon, which runs as follows: There was once a Lawa living on the verge of the Lakon State, when the whole of the country was covered by a dense forest. Hearing that Gaudama Buddh was visiting the site of Wat Lam Pang, the Lawa hastened to procure some wild honey, and placing it in the joint of a bamboo, slung it to the end of a shoulder-pole, formed from the branch of a Mai Ka Chow tree, and proceeded on his way to the Buddh. The country through which he passed is known as La-Kaun, the Lawa’s walk (from la or lawa, and kaun or kon, walk). After eating the honey, the Buddh planted the bamboo joint in the ground, and from it sprang a great clump of yellow-stemmed bamboos, which still flourishes near the Wat, or temple. The branch of the tree being driven by the Buddh into the ground, with its thin end downwards, sprouted and became a tree, still thriving on the spot, bearing leaves reversed from their natural position. The tree, bamboo, and temple are objects of pilgrimage, and are worshipped twice a year, in the second and sixth months.
He then related a modern joke about Phra Chedi Sow, the sacred twenty pagodas, situated five miles to the north-west of Lakon. These pagodas are likewise the site of pious picnics. An observant pilgrim happening to count them, could find but nineteen. Over and over again he counted, thinking that he must be mistaken, but his tally was always the same. At last he applied to the abbot for an explanation, and was assured that the twentieth pagoda was at Ban Wang Sow, the village of twenty pools, distant some miles to the south of Lakon, where there is a pagoda. This the old Chow Phya considered to be an immense joke.
After nearly splitting his sides with laughter over this humorous tale, he said that there was a legend about a small lake in the neighbourhood called Nong Wen (the lake of the ring), which we might perhaps like to hear. On our assenting, he said the name arose from the following circumstance: A youth wandering through the woods with his sweetheart became unseemly in his attentions, and thereby deeply offended the local spirit, who, to punish them, caused the ground to sink gradually under their feet. The couple fled in great fear. The young man in his terror grasped the girl’s hand, and she, in her hurry to get away, wrenched it from him with such force that her ring fell off and came to the ground. The ring sinking, became a round pool—the Ring Lake.
Komara-pat, the god of medicine, mentioned in the first legend, is sacrificed to by all doctors in Siam at the expense of their patients, and in the stories told of him, seems to have many of the qualities of the Aswins, two grotesque personages in the Rig Veda, who were the general practitioners of medicine amongst the Aryans. In the Rig Veda they are described as brothers of the sun, and travel in three-cornered, three-wheeled cars drawn by asses. They are depicted as half-comic, half-serious personages, with very long arms, and are concerned in every odd legend in the Veda. To a holy man who was beheaded for revealing to them forbidden science, they presented a horse’s head, and stuck it on his neck in place of his own head. They enabled the lame to walk and the blind to see, and restored an “aged man to youth, as a wheelwright repairs a worn-out car.” These professors in healing seem to be the progenitors of the jugglers, magicians, and quacks found in all ages, not only in the East, but in Europe.
A Siamese doctor, according to an account given by a medical missionary, is distinguished from other folk by his medicine-box, wrapped up in a piece of figured muslin or some silken or woollen fabric, holding half a bushel, more or less, of pills and powders, carried under his arm or in his little skiff, or in the arms of a single servant. As the customs of the country require physicians to remain day and night with their patients while suffering under grave diseases, it is impossible for them to attend upon many persons at a time. Doctors are therefore far from being in the possession of a lucrative practice, and few are lucky enough to be able to save sufficient to enable them to acquire a teak-built house surrounded by an orchard, and support two or three wives, together with a growing family.