OFFERING TO THE GOOD INFLUENCES—THE SPIRIT IN SLEEP—THE CEREMONY OF
TUM KWUN—SPIRIT-WORSHIP OF PING SHANS—ARRANGEMENTS FOR LEAVING—VISIT
SIAMESE PRINCE—A GATLING GUN AS AN ORNAMENT—RAILWAY ROUTES—NUMBER OF
FIGHTING-MEN—DISMISS LOOGALAY—PRETTY PAGODAS—BOXING AND
WRESTLING—THE BRIDGE BREAKS—PRESENTS FROM CHOW OO-BOON—A LOVER’S
LUTE—LACE PRIZED—DR CUSHING’S VIEWS ON THE PING SHANS—CONNECTION
WITH SIAM—TAXATION—_CORVÉE_ LABOUR—SERFS—SLAVES PURCHASED FROM RED
KARENS—DEBT SLAVES IN CHAINS—RELIGION—FIELD FOR MISSIONARIES.
On visiting Mr Wilson, he told me Prince Bigit, the half-brother of the
King of Siam, had arrived, and that great preparations had been made for
_Tumming_ his _Kwun_ or _Kwan_. On my inquiring what _Tum kwun_ meant,
he said _Tum_ meant “the act of offering,” and _kwun_ the good
influences which are supposed to pervade every part of the body, keeping
them in good health. Any ailment in any part of the body is put down by
the Shans to the departure of the _kwun_, or good influence,
appertaining to that part.
If a person whilst on a journey, or in the fields, or elsewhere, becomes
ill and has to return home, the spirit-doctor, when called in,
immediately directs the person’s relations or friends to carry offerings
to the place where the _kwun_ departed, and, after sacrificing to the
_kwun_, beseech it to return to the sick man’s body, and again perform
its good offices.[18]
The _Tum kwun_ that had occurred was an offering to the _kwun_ of the
prince to induce them not to afflict him by taking their departure. At
the same time, special offerings were made to the demons to keep them in
a good temper, so that no harm might come to him.
A description of the ceremony of _Tum kwun_ as performed on Siamese
princes when visiting Zimmé in 1859, and seen by him, was given by Sir
Robert Schomburgh, formerly her Majesty’s consul at Bangkok, in the
Siamese Repository of 1869, which runs as follows:[19]—
“Chao Operat (the second chief of Zimmé) had expressed a wish to present
some gifts, according to Lao custom, to the young Princes Ong Teng and
Ong Sawat who were with me. The ceremony took place in the large _sala_
adjacent to our residence. The Deputy Viceroy (Chow Ooparat) did not
come himself, but sent one of his high nobles accompanied by some other
officers of rank.
“Two pyramids of flowers, consisting of three rows, one above the other,
but each smaller than the preceding, and the whole about 5 feet high,
were carried before the procession. Then came two smaller ones of more
intrinsic value, each of the branchlets of the pyramids ending in a kind
of network with a rupee in it. There were fifty of these on one tree,
and forty-one on the other, the missing one having probably found its
way to the fob of one of the attendants, or rather to the corner of his
girdle.
“The pyramids having been placed in the middle of the _sala_, a number
of dishes with legs of pork, fish, eggs, fruit, vegetables, &c., were
placed around them. Ong Teng and Ong Sawat squatted on the ground near
the pyramids. One of the noblemen then stepped forward, and having
seated himself near the young princes, he made his salaam and took a
book out of his girdle, and read a homily or prayer of ten tedious pages
addressed to Buddha, invoking him to protect the young princes during
their journey, and to vouchsafe their safe return to their parents and
friends.
“The prayer finished, he tore down one of the long cotton threads which
were hanging from the branches of the larger pyramids, and taking the
end part, about four inches in length, in his hands, he passed the rest
from the wrist of Ong Teng to the end of the boy’s forefinger, murmuring
all the time some sentence or incantation. He then tore off the short
end which he had kept in his hand, and threw it away, for in it,
according to their superstition, all the evil was embodied, winding, as
already mentioned, the long part of the thread around the wrist as a
talisman.
“The same operation was gone through with the left hand. Some of the
noblemen who were present followed his example, and the second prince,
Ong Sawat, having been performed upon in a similar manner, the ceremony
was over. Not the slightest decorum was observed during it, the people
present talking, smoking, and making jokes while the exhortation was
being read.”
From Mr Wilson I learnt that the Zimmé Shans believe that all evil and
good spirits had their origin in human beings, and that the heavens,
hells, and earth are peopled with spirits and ruled over by lords or
kings. This belief is similar to that in ancient Chaldea, where, 2000
years before our era, Anu was worshipped as the lord of the heavens, Bel
as the lord of the visible world, and Hea as the lord of the sea and the
infernal regions.
The spirits in the heavens, or abodes of bliss, are governed by two
kings, a court, and deputy-governors and officials, as in the Shan
States at present. The kings are known as Phya In (in India called
Indra, and in Burmah Thugra or Thagya) and Phya Prom (Brahma). The
heavens are peopled by the Tay-wa-boot (male Dewahs), or male angels;
the Tay-wa-da (female Dewahs), or female angels; and the departed
spirits of all whose merit on earth gave them the right, so long as
their stock of merit lasts, to enjoy the heavenly realms.
The good spirits, besides those who are in the heavens, include:
Firstly, the Tor-ra-nee, or female angels of the earth, the ministering
angels to all those whose object on earth is the acquisition of virtue
and merit. When Phya Mahn (Dewadat), or the devil, with his evil spirits
attacked Gaudama, the Tor-ra-nee came to his rescue, and wringing out
their hair, caused such a flood as swept away the attacking force.
Images of these angels wringing out their long hair are frequently seen
in the temples, and their hair is supposed to receive all the scented
water and frankincense that is offered to Buddha. It is to gain their
assistance that a cup of water is always poured out whenever an offering
is made. Secondly, the deceased spirits of meritorious kings and rulers
down to the _Kenban_, or second officers of a district. Thirdly, the
spirits of deceased Buddhist monks. Fourthly, the ancestors to the
second generation, male and female, of monks. Fifthly, and lastly, the
virtuous and meritorious departed spirits of the rest of society. The
deceased rulers are called Pee Soo-a-ban, or guardians of the different
districts and villages. The deceased monks are known as Pee Soo-a-wat,
or spirits that protect the temples.
[Illustration:
_Hanuman, king of monkeys._
]
[Illustration:
_Prom or Brahma._
]
The King of the Earth, Phya Wet Sawan (Vishnu), who lives in heaven, has
control over the good and evil spirits that reside in the world and its
atmosphere, and a system of government similar to that in the heavens.
His four Tow Chet-to-loke, or ministers who record acts in his three
courts and make reports to him, have under them, as agents of justice,
the _Pee Hai_, the spirits of malaria and cholera; the _Pee Sook_, who
are blind and are the spirits of smallpox; and the _Pee Pong_, who
produce rheumatism.
[Illustration:
_Phya Lak._
]
[Illustration:
_Phya Wet Sawan (Vishnu)._
]
The other evil spirits of the earth are: Firstly, the _Pee Mer Mor_,
which possess sorcerers and soothsayers. These are the spirits of
deceased physicians, and people possessed by them are called in in cases
of theft or loss. Secondly, the _Pee Kah_, the wizard-spirits of horse
form. Thirdly, the _Pee Hong_, who are in two classes: the headless, who
are the ghosts of decapitated people; and the ones with heads, who are
the spirits of those who have been killed by animals. Fourthly, the _Pee
Pai_, who are the spirits of those who die from abortion, miscarriage,
or childbirth. If the child dies with the mother, its spirit joins hers
in its rambles, endeavouring to harm the living. The first objects of
their search are their husband and father, whose death they do all they
can to accomplish. Sometimes the man endeavours to escape by becoming a
monk in a monastery away from his home. This belief, like most of the
superstitions in Indo-China, is also current in China. Only last year I
read of a case in Peking where the seven orifices in the head of a woman
who had died in childbirth were burnt with a large stick of ignited
incense to prevent her spirit from plaguing her husband.[20] Fifthly,
the _Pee Koom ngeun_, the spirits who watch over hidden treasures. These
are the spirits of misers who had during their life hid money and
precious stones in the earth. On their death, their spirits are not
allowed to join the ancestral clan, but have to haunt their buried
treasure and watch over it.
Then there are the _Pee Pa_, or spirits of the jungle, who are the
spirits of those who have died when absent from their home. Their
numbers are recruited as follows: If a king, prince, or other ruler,
dies whilst passing through the forest, his spirit must of necessity
wander about the place where he died. No merit-making can accrue from
any religious service over his corpse. The disembodied spirit, not
allowed to join the ancestral spirits, wanders about in its desperation,
and endeavours to cause the death of all who pass its way. If it
succeeds, his victim’s spirit has to become its companion and
subject—thus a clan with its chief is formed; and passage through the
jungle becomes more and more dangerous as time runs on. No one dying in
the forest has the privilege of returning home and joining the ancestral
spirits; he, or she, is for ever destined to be a _Pee Pa_, or evil
spirit of the jungle.
The late King of Zimmé, the persecutor of the Christians, died on his
way back from Bangkok; and therefore, according to the people, has
become a _Pee Pa_. Mr Wilson gave me the following description of his
funeral: The day after his death, the king’s body was put in a coffin.
The face and limbs were covered with gold-leaf,[21] which fitted so
closely as to leave the features perfectly recognisable. The ordinary
custom whereby the corpse should have been placed in a sitting posture
was not adhered to in his case. Over the body was placed a loose robe of
the purest and richest white damask. The inside of the coffin was lined
with white, and the outside was covered with a gold cloth of the finest
texture.
The corpse not being allowed to enter the city—no corpse is—was conveyed
to the king’s river palace by a large procession of soldiers, priests,
and people on foot, and of princes on ponies and elephants. Near the
front of the procession was an elephant of the second king, wearing its
brightly polished silver trappings. Farther back came the coffin borne
on a gilded bier, and surrounded by a large number of yellow-robed
monks. Behind it was carried the vacant throne, bearing on its seat the
royal crown. Next came a groom leading the pony the king used to ride,
and after it, without a mahout, the favourite royal elephant—its huge
body ornamented with rich trappings of gold. Following these were the
members of the royal family and the near relatives. As the corpse came
in sight, a number of princesses who were waiting in the public _sala_
began in modulated tones the wailing for the dead. Every evening a
company of priests assembled to chant the prayers for the dead, each
receiving some gift at the close of the service.
The king of the infernal regions is known as Phya Yomerat, and his
ministers, officers, and malefactors as Pee Narok. Pictures of the
damned suffering in the Buddhist hells embellished the walls of many of
the temples: the ideas are derived from one of the ten Great Zahts, or
mystery-plays, in which a pious prince is shown the horrors of the
various places of punishment.
Mr Scott (Shwé Yoe), in his book ‘The Burman,’ gives a description of
some of the tortures, which he rightly says is sufficient to make one’s
flesh creep. Men devoured by five-headed dogs, by famished vultures, by
loathsome crows, the flesh being renewed as fast as the foul creatures
tore it away; others crushed beneath the weight of vast white-hot
mountains; stretched on fiery bars, and cut up with burning knives and
flaming saws, flame entering at the mouth and licking up the vitals;
fiends all about, hacking, hewing, stabbing, lacerating the body; fiends
with fiery hammers crushing the bones at every stroke: all are depicted
in the temples—and much more.
The Buddhist hells and the Buddhist heavens have, however, little to do
with the real religion of the people. Buddhism has next to no hold upon
them; it is merely a veneer covering their old Dravidian and Turanian
superstitions, which, as we have seen, are brought into play in their
everyday life, and in the times of sickness and death. With the
spirit-worshippers in China and Indo-China, as amongst the ancient
Finnish (Turanian) tribes in Russia, described by Sir Mackenzie Wallace,
the religious ceremonies have no hidden mystical signification, and are
for the most part rather magical rites for averting the influence of
malicious spirits, or freeing themselves from the unwelcome visits of
their departed relatives. Amongst the Finns in Russia, many even of
those who are officially Christians proceed like the Shans at stated
seasons to the graveyards, and place an abundant supply of cooked food
on the graves of their relations who have recently died, requesting the
departed to accept this meal, and not to return to their old homes,
where their presence is no longer desired. Another strong resemblance
between the practices of the Finns and the people of south-eastern Asia
lies in the fact that “they do not distinguish religion from magic
rites; and they have never been taught that other religions are less
true than their own. For them the best religion is the one which
contains the most potent spells, but they see no reason why less
powerful religions should not be blended therewith.” Thus the Chinese
and Indo-Chinese have acquired a thorough folio of religions and
religious superstitions.
Phya Mahn, in the Shan pantheon, is very much altered from the Mahn Min
of the Burmese, and the Dewadat of the Pali scriptures; he still can
roam about in heaven, and earth, and hell. Formerly, before his attack
upon Gaudama, he had power over the spirits of all these regions, but
could not bring his heavenly attendants with him to earth, nor take his
earthly attendants with him to heaven. Since his ill behaviour he has no
attendants in heaven, and must gain the consent of Phya Wet Sawan before
any of the latter’s evil spirits can join him in his progress upon the
earth.
On my telling Mr Wilson that I wished to leave for Bangkok as soon as
possible, as I had agreed to meet Mr Colquhoun there at the beginning of
June, and that he might already be there, or on his way up the river to
meet me, he said that he thought the best plan would be for him to make
arrangements for the crews, and to charge me a lump sum for them and for
the use of the comfortable house-boats belonging to his Mission. He
considered that 500 rupees was a fair bargain, as it would include the
return journey and the food of the men. To this I gladly assented, on
the understanding that 200 rupees were to be paid down, and the
remainder on my reaching Bangkok. He promised to have the boats ready
for me to start on May 31st.
Next day I paid visits to the missionaries, and called on Mr Gould to
ask him to accompany me to Prince Bigit’s on the following day, and to
arrange for the interview, which he promised to do. On reaching the
house occupied by the prince, I found the drawing-room furnished with
tables and chairs, and ornamented by a Gatling gun that he had brought
with him either for defence or to astonish the natives.
After being introduced, and shaking hands with him, and asking him about
his journey, and the direction he had taken, he said he was much
interested in the subject of railways, and that he intended to visit
Burmah at the end of that year or the beginning of the next, to see how
they acted in that country. The telegraph was to be carried to Zimmé
during the next dry season, and he hoped that would be the forerunner of
railways.
He asked me what direction I thought a railway should take through the
Shan States into Siam. I told him I had not seen the lower defile of the
Meh Ping, but, from what I had heard, I was led to believe that it would
be very expensive to carry a line through it to Zimmé, but that one
could be carried from Raheng up the Meh Phit and through the defile
crossed in 1837 by General M‘Leod, to Muang Li, and thence to Zimmé.
From Zimmé a line could easily be constructed _viâ_ the Meh Pam across
the low pass into Muang Fang, and perhaps from thence to Kiang Hsen.
A far easier line, and one that would be more convenient for tapping the
trade of all the States, could be made from Raheng up the valley of the
Meh Wung to Lakon, and thence _viâ_ Muang Ngow, Penyow, Hpan, and Kiang
Hai to Kiang Hsen. A branch line could be made from this line, either
from Lakon or from near the mouth of the Meh Wung, to connect Zimmé with
this main line. From Raheng the main line would proceed down the valley
of the Meh Nam to Bangkok; and a branch line could be carried westwards
from Raheng to the frontier to meet a British railway proceeding from
Maulmain.
He then asked whether it would not be very difficult and expensive to
construct a railway across the hills from Maulmain. I said of course it
would be more difficult and expensive than the portion through the
plains, but from the character of the country I had traversed when
coming from Maulmain, I considered the difficulties could be overcome
without great expense, and that the traffic which would pass over the
line would certainly more than justify a very much heavier outlay than
would be required. The traffic that might be expected to pass between
Siam and Burmah would be so considerable as of itself to make the
construction of the railway highly remunerative, besides being a great
boon to both countries.
I then asked the prince whether he could give me an idea of the
population of Siam and its Shan States. In reply he said he doubted
whether I could even get the population of Siam from the Government in
Bangkok, for nothing was accurately known about it. The estimate made by
Sir John Bowring was very much too low. As to the population of the Shan
States, all he knew was that Zimmé returned 80,000 fighting-men on the
list forwarded to Bangkok; Lakon, 80,000; and Nan, 100,000. The Siamese
Government doubles these figures, as the Shan chiefs return far too few
on their lists, so as to have to provide fewer men in the case of war. I
may here mention that the number given by Prince Bigit for Zimmé was
50,000 higher than the number given me previously by Princess Chow
Oo-Boon. Slaves are not included amongst the fighting-men.
Whilst we were talking, tea and cigars were handed round. The Siamese
commissioner said that he had received instructions from Bangkok a day
or two after I left Zimmé for Muang Fang, to do all in his power to help
me; that he had made inquiries about the trade and population of the
Shan States according to his promise, but could get no reliable
information. He was very sorry to disappoint me in the matter, but he
had really done his best. I wonder if he thought I believed him—probably
not!
After quitting the prince’s abode I returned home, and found my Madras
boys in a great state of excitement. They said Loogalay was a thief;
that he was stealing my things, and selling them in the bazaar. They had
watched him appropriating bottles of medicine from the stock which had
been placed in his charge. As the boys had never liked Loogalay from the
first, as he constantly tried to ride the high horse over them, I
naturally doubted the truth of the accusation, and asked for full
particulars.
Jewan said that Loogalay had put the bottles in his private _pah_
(basket), and intended to sell them, as he had already sold others. I
told them to fetch the _pah_, and had it uncorded before me, when I
found several unopened ounce-bottles of quinine, bottles of chlorodyne,
and pain-killer, and even boxes of Cockle’s pills, besides the medicines
which were in use by our party. I then said, “Very well; cord the _pah_
up again, and put it in its place, and keep quite quiet about the
matter.”
Fowls, ducks, and other articles of food had been constantly stolen
during our journeys by the elephant-men and porters, who glided about at
night as noiselessly and cunningly as snakes, and were as expert and as
little troubled by conscience as clowns in a pantomime. The boys, under
whose charge the culinary live-stock and other provisions lay, were much
nettled at finding their vigilance not only evaded but laughed at, and
the game made more pleasantly exciting to the light-fingered Shans. They
had therefore been brooding over this last iniquity, particularly as it
had been perpetrated by Moung Loogalay, one of their fellow-servants,
and half sullenly told me that, if the case was proved against him,
either he or they would have to leave the party, because it would injure
their characters if it were known that they kept company with a thief.
Loogalay was away all that day, and did not return till I had gone to
bed. In the morning I called him, and asked where the quinine was. He
said in his _pah_. I told him to bring it, and see what other medicines
he had out of stock, as I wished to take count. He then brought me the
opened bottles and boxes; and on my asking whether he had any more in
his _pah_, he answered no!
I then told him to bring it. He saw his game was up, and became
dumfoundered for a time, and even when he found his voice, could not
find excuses. I told him I was very sorry to find him dishonest,
particularly as I had expected better things from him; that of course I
could hand him over to Mr Gould for trial, but that I would not do so,
as I trusted his present uncomfortable plight would be such a warning to
him as to ensure his honesty for the future; that of course I could not
expect Veyloo and Jewan to consort with a thief; and that he must
therefore make arrangements for returning to Maulmain with one of the
caravans, and the sooner the better, and should at once see some of the
Burmese foresters residing in Zimmé, and settle the matter with them.
Quinine was fetching about 10 rupees an ounce in the bazaar. Loogalay
had seen me making presents of it to the chiefs, and parcelling it out
amongst fever-stricken villagers. He therefore may have looked upon his
misdeed rather in the light of “picking” than of “stealing,” and as
appropriating what would have gone to others less deserving, in his own
opinion, than himself.
Two days later he returned, saying that he had made the arrangements,
and asking for the pay that was owing him for four and a half months’
service. Having previously advanced him 85 rupees, I handed him the 50
rupees then owing, and wished him a safe journey and an honest career
for the future.
A little beyond the bridge which crosses the river, a large pagoda near
the eastern bank had recently been repaired, and was far more graceful
in shape, and more exquisitely finished, than any other in the State. On
each corner of its square basement was erected a smaller pagoda, covered
with a handsome tartan of yellow-and-green-looking glass tinsel, which
glittered in the sunlight; and in each corner, close to the smaller
pagodas, was an image of the guardian spirit.
In the grounds I noticed a large stone slab with an inscription on it
which might be worth while translating. Many such slabs, giving the date
of the foundation of religious buildings, are scattered through the
country, and contain the only reliable evidence about events that have
happened in the country, recording not only the date, but generally the
name and race of the ruler of the State. Some of these inscriptions are
said to be inscribed in a writing now obsolete, which cannot be
deciphered by the most learned living monk. If rubbings were taken of
them, they could be compared with ancient Cambodian and other
characters, and the clue found for reading their contents.
Whilst sketching the pagoda, a couple of Shans who had been watching me
began sparring with boxing-gloves, joining tripping and wrestling in the
sport. A crowd soon gathered round, and I became judge of the contest,
tipping the winner of each round. Instead of hitting from the shoulder
as English boys do, the blows were more roundabout, and oftener with the
open hand than with the closed fist; both the knee and the foot were
occasionally used. The wrestling, however, was very fair, and more in
the Devonshire than in the Cornish and Cumberland styles.
[Illustration:
_Siamese wrestlers._
]
The bridge over the river was in rather a shaky condition, the planks
being loose, and only held in position by a wheel-guard on either side.
One day during my former stay at the city, some laden cattle being
driven across the bridge crowded together in the centre, and a girder
and several of the rotten planks above it broke, and eight or ten of the
bullocks were precipitated into the river 30 feet below, and some of
them were seriously injured, as the river was shallow, being barely 3
feet deep at the spot.
The centre span of the bridge was raised a step higher than the rest to
allow the great boats belonging to the chief to pass under, and every
time we drove over the bridge our pony-carriage had to be lifted on and
off this step; and carts were prevented from crossing. A small
expenditure in strengthening and slightly arching the bridge would make
it fit for cart traffic, and thus enable carts to cross the river
throughout the year.
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.
“In the Kengtung (Kiang Tung) principality, where the people call
themselves Kheun, and are the link between the Shans and the Laos, the
priests go so far as to ride ponies. As the handling of money and the
touching of a pony are two of the seven great sins forbidden to priests
by Gaudama, it is needless to say that the Shans (to the west of the
Salween) look upon the Laos as very heterodox.
“All this looseness in religious practice makes the Laos more open to
missionary work than are the Shans. They do not have that strong belief,
that in listening to the tenets of another religion they may bring about
a schism in the body of Buddha, and thereby commit a deadly sin.
Certainly the outlook of the Laos Mission is very hopeful, not only in
the number of converts gained, but in the readiness with which the
people listen to the preaching of the truth.
“Missions to the Karens and Moohseus (La-hu or Mu Hseu) in Laos
territory, and to the Kamooks in the region east of the Cambodia, would
be remunerative, as these people are quiet, docile, and not bound by any
strong ancestral religion like Buddhism.”