A day or two before I left Zimmé, Dr and Mrs M‘Gilvary asked me to dinner, together with Princess Chow Oo-Boon and her well-behaved children. The princess brought with her some beautifully embroidered Shan dresses as a present for my youngest sister; and her son presented me with his own lover’s lute. This musical instrument is peculiar. It is formed of a black ebony-like stick resting on a bowl made of half a well-polished cocoa-nut shell. Near each end of the stick is a metal rest for the two brass strings of the lute. The top of the bowl is pressed against the chest, and serves as a sounding-board when the instrument is played. After admiring the presents and expressing my delight, I told the princess that it would give me much pleasure if she would allow me to send some little remembrance from England, and would let me know what she would like. In answer she said that if I could match some lace which she had got from Maulmain, or get some of the same quality, she would be very pleased, and that she would send me the patterns next day.
On showing the patterns to my sister in England, she said they were cheap rubbish, costing a penny for two or three yards; and she therefore purchased a quantity of far better quality, which I forwarded to Bangkok for it to be sent to Zimmé. By the next post I heard that the princess was dead; and a few months later she was joined by the Queen of Zimmé.
Before leaving Zimmé for Bangkok, it will be well to give Dr Cushing’s views concerning the present state of the people. In his account of the journeys made with me, he says that “the Laos principalities are tributary to Siam; but all internal affairs are managed, for the most part, by the native princes. At first their connection with Bangkok was such that the native princes were absolute in everything that pertained to home affairs. Only in matters involving the relation of Siam to foreign powers, the triennial tribute, and the confirmation of princes in their rank and power, was the authority of Siam dominant.
“Of late years the power of Siam has increased gradually, so that now the Siamese commissioners residing at Zimmé exercise a great deal of influence and quiet authority in local matters throughout the principalities. Siam, however, does not treat these tributary States in the way that the Court of Ava treated its dependent Shan States, where extortion, oppression, and the fomenting of intestine feuds have been the policy of the occupants of the Burman throne. Hence the people lead a quieter and more peaceful life.
“The taxation is not heavy. One basket of rice for every fifty or hundred, as the custom of the principality may be, with a small assessment on each house for the tribute paid to the King of Siam, are the principal demands of the Government in the way of taxation, although a small sum may be levied for a special subject on some rare occasion.
“The most oppressive right of the Government grows out of the relation of the people to their rulers, by which they must perform Government work whenever called to do so. The whole of the people are in a condition of serfdom. They are apportioned among the princes and rulers in such a way that each one has his lord, to whom he must render a certain amount of service every year if called upon to do so. Although there are rules determining the frequency of call to service, these rules are easily overridden.
“No person can change his residence permanently, much less go out of the country, without the permission of his feudal lord. While, therefore, the people are a nation of serfs, there are many who are in the worse condition of abject slaves. These persons are the personal property of their master, to whom belongs the full result of their labour. Some of these are captives taken in war, or kidnapped by the Red Karens and sold to the Laos (Zimmé Shans).
“Others are slaves on account of debt. A man borrows twenty or fifty rupees, expecting to repay it. If he cannot do so when the money is demanded, he is summoned to court, where he is adjudged the property of the person who lent him the money. He is then loaded with chains about the neck and ankles, which he must wear in company with the worst fellows. His only alleviation is the privilege of choosing his master, in so far that he may persuade another man to buy him by paying the sum of his debt to his owner. The missionaries have liberated many from time to time by paying their debts, and allowing them to render an equivalent by work at fixed wages for a certain time.
“In religion the Laos are nominally Buddhist, but it is a question whether Buddhism has as much hold on their practical life as nat-worship.[[22]] They build fine temples, and the youth enter the priesthood; but they have none of the pronounced religious feelings and immovable bigotry of the Shans west of the Salween. They say that the precepts of Gaudama are the right thing to accept, but who can observe them?
“While in the priesthood there is none of that strictness which exists in the more northern Shans. The priests visit the houses of their friends, often remaining over-night at them. They work for wages even, and in each monastery there is a money-box belonging to the priest and one to the monastery.