A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

He told me that he had received no instructions whatever on the subject from the king, but no doubt he would receive them in a few days; in the meantime he would gladly do all he could to aid me in my project.

I then asked him to aid me in gathering information about the trade and population of the country, and to give me a letter to the various princes in the district, asking them to aid me to the utmost in their power. This he promised to do, and the conversation became general. When I received the letter, it proved to be so milk-and-watery that it was worse than worthless, and Dr M‘Gilvary advised me to keep it as a curiosity, and not to show it. All his other promises were merely pie-crust—made to be broken.

Just as we were preparing to go, Phra Udon, the senior assistant-commissioner, came bounding in like a clown at a circus, greeting us all boisterously with “How do you all do? So glad you’ve come. All well, I hope?” Then he hurried round from one to the other, and shook hands in an affectionately jovial manner. I had heard about this individual before I came, and was therefore more amused than surprised at his manner. There was no ceremony about him. We were jolly companions every one, and he would be delighted to be the tomfool of the party. It is surprising how such a mountebank could have got even into the Siamese service. From subsequent inquiry, I learnt that he was a native of Ceylon, who, with other monks, had come over to Siam many years ago at the invitation of the king, and who, managing to curry favour at Court, threw off the yellow robe and entered the Government service.

Conversation now passed into a shower of questions from Phra Udon, amid which our answers could barely be squeezed edgewise; this moment Siamese, the next English, and every now and then the two combined. After a time, I grew weary of the assumed joviality, and was glad to say good-bye and retreat from the scene.

Our next call was upon Chow Boo-re Rak, the Chow Hoo-a Muang Kyow, or head of the Gem City—a man of fine stature, with a keen eye and intelligent mind. We did not detain him long, because he was hearing cases in his house, but went to see the king’s eldest son by a former marriage, who holds the post of Chow Racha Boot; and afterwards Chow Oo-ta-ra-kan, who, if primogeniture ruled the accession to the throne in the Shan States, would have been King of Zimmé. To prevent disturbances the King of Siam kept Noi Maha Prome, his father and the eldest son of a former king, at Bangkok, until the day of his death.

Having finished our calls we strolled homewards, chatting about the various people we had seen.

The Siamese judge, or commissioner, was appointed under the Anglo-Siamese treaty of 1874, whereby we recognised the control of Siam over the Shan States of Chiengmai, Lakon, and Lampoonchi (Zimmé, Lakon, and Lapoon). This treaty arranged for the policing of the frontier, the extradition of dacoits, and the appointment of Siamese judges at Zimmé. The judges were to decide between British subjects having passports and Siamese subjects; but a proviso was made that in case the British subject did not consent to the jurisdiction of the court, his or her case should be tried by the British consul at Bangkok, or the British officer in the Yoonzaleen district of Lower Burmah.

Previous to this treaty the Siamese authority in the Shan States was confined to the regulation of their foreign affairs and sanctioning the appointments of their elected chiefs, Siam protecting the Shan States of Chiengmai, or Zimmé; Lamphang Lakhon, or Lakon; Lampoonchi, or Lapoon; Muang Nan, or Nan; Muang Phrë, or Peh, or Prai, or Phray (these four States were comprised in the ancient kingdom of Zimmé, and Lakon and Lapoon still look up to Zimmé as their parent State, and in a vague manner are controlled by it); and Luang Prabang, or Hluang Prabang. In return for Siam’s protection against foreign invaders, these six States agreed to send triennial tribute to Siam in the form of gold and silver boxes, vases, and jewelled necklaces, together with curious gold and silver trees valued at from £15 to £35 each.

Trade between British Burmah and Siam and its Shan States may be said to date from the Anglo-Siamese treaty of 1855–56. Up to that time Europeans, descendants of Europeans, Burmese, and Peguans from British Burmah, were not allowed to enter the Siamese dominions for purposes of trade, although our native of India subjects were permitted to do so. Siam’s policy was simply that of perfect seclusion from her neighbours.

Next day Chow Oo-boon, accompanied by her eldest son Chow Sook Ka Same and her niece, the only child of the queen, returned our call, and were followed by a long train of attendants bearing silver-handled umbrellas, and gold betel-boxes, water-jars, and cigarette-platters. The son looked thirteen years of age, and the niece about two years younger. The missionaries said the children when grown up would make an excellent match, but they were doubtful whether the queen would consent to the union, as the father of the boy was not of royal blood. They were both very well behaved, and were evidently fond of Dr and Mrs M‘Gilvary. Chow Oo-boon had been the steady friend of the missionaries at Zimmé ever since the Mission had been founded.