Journal of the Siam Society; 106 9781407315065

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Newly Discovered Correspondence (1853-1868) from King Mongkut, Rama IV, and from Phra Pinklao, to Sir John Bowring and his son Edgar Bowring Paul Michael Taylor

Abstract—This article presents for the first time transcriptions with illustrations of eleven examples of Thai royal correspondence dated 1853-1868, including six previously unpublished and two published but minimally accessible handwritten letters from King Mongkut and from “Second King” Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring and his son Edgar Bowring. The letters, purchased in London in 1985 and now at the Library of Congress (Washington), substantively add to the corpus of primary source material on key historical figures from this period during which the “Bowring Treaty” of 1855, between Siam and the United Kingdom, played a role in transformations within Siam. Prior publications of such correspondence rarely included illustrations of the original letters; here, illustrations show not only the original handwritten missives but also the royal seals placed on them, which are discussed in this article. In addition to these eight letters, transcriptions and illustrations of three little-known other examples of related correspondence from King Mongkut are included. One of the eight letters (from 16 January 1868) consists of King Mongkut’s handwritten note on a two-page pre-printed New Year greeting dated 1 January that year. Finally, though Bowring himself transcribed and published examples of his correspondence with the “Major King” (Mongkut) and “Second King” of Siam in his two-volume The Kingdom and People of Siam (1857), he also included color lithographs of two letters, related to those published here, that he did not transcribe. Transcriptions and illustrations of both those letters are included here, from original 1857 lithographs in the Smithsonian Institution’s Cullman library.

Introduction This article presents in detail eleven examples of correspondence from King Mongkut, Rama IV (1804-1868), and from “Second King” Phra Pinklao (1808-1866), to Sir John Bowring (1792-1872) and his fourth son Edgar Alfred Bowring (1826-1911). These include a set of six previously unpublished and two published but minimally accessible examples of handwritten correspondence from King Mongkut and Phra Pinklao. Additionally, three related documents are presented. First, a pre-printed New Year greeting from King Mongkut, dated 1 January 1868, accompanies one of those letters. In addition, transcriptions and illustrations of two related letters are included Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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here, from original 1857 lithographs in the Smithsonian Institution’s Cullman library. Sir John Bowring had published these two as lithographs in his two-volume The Kingdom and People of Siam (1857), without transcribing them. The transcriptions given here make these more accessible (including for online word searches), while the inclusion of the two illustrations will confirm similarities to the new documents presented. The Library of Congress’s internal (non-public) records about these letters are scant, noting only that this group of letters to Sir John Bowring and his son from the King of Siam was purchased in London from Winifred Myers in 1985.1 This would surely have been Winifred Alice Myers (1909-1985) of London, who served as President of the Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association (A.B.A.) from 1950 to 1952. A brief biography by Robin Myers (“no relation” to Winifred Myers, as the biography states, despite the same surname), published on the website of the A.B.A. in 2017, describes her lifelong collecting interest in rare books and manuscripts (Myers 2017). This purchase would thus have dated from the year of her death, though it is unclear how she acquired these letters. One could speculate that since the collection includes three letters to Sir John’s fourth son Edgar, among his five sons and four daughters, these might have been among

Portraits of King Mongkut, Rama IV (1804-1868) (left) and Sir John Bowring (1792-1872) (right). At left is the color lithograph, possibly from hand-tinted tintype, published by Bowring, 1857, vol. 1, facing title page. (At base of portrait: “SPPM Mongkut Rex Siamensium” – i.e., Latin, “Somdet Phra Poramenthra Maha Mongkut, King of the Siamese”). At right is a detail of the lithograph also published by Bowring, 1857, in vol. 2, facing title page.

Email from Jeffrey M. Flannery, Head, Reference & Reader Services, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, 22 November 2017. The penciled annotation “[Ac. 19,178]” on several documents is the accession number assigned by the Manuscript Division.

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family papers possibly inherited then dispersed through Edgar’s descendants. The collection has been stored in the Library of Congress’s Manuscript Division since its purchase. These letters comprise a substantive addition to the corpus of primary data on key historical figures from this period during which the “Bowring Treaty” of 1855 liberalized trade in Siam. That treaty between the United Kingdom and Siam formed the model for subsequent bilateral treaties, including the 1856 “Harris Treaty” between Siam and the United States. There are three letters from King Mongkut (17 July 1855, 4 September 1857, and 27 November 1858) and two from Phra Pinklao (12 February 1853 and 31 August 1857) to Sir John Bowring, as well as two letters from King Mongkut to Edgar Bowring (16 January 1868 and 28 May 1868). The letter of 16 January 1868, was actually a handwritten addition to a two-page pre-printed New Year greeting from the King, made for distribution to foreigners on the occasion of the Gregorian New Year, 1st January. In fact, Sir John Bowring seems to have separately sent another copy of that same printed New Year greeting to the London-based editors of the The London and China Telegraph, who published the printed greeting’s text in their 13 March 1868 newspaper, as will be noted below. Finally, there is the undated fragment of an eighth handwritten letter to Edgar Bowring. Although it is unsigned, we see from its handwriting and especially from its seal that the author was King Mongkut. The compilations of King Mongkut’s English-language correspondence, and that of Phra Pinklao, begin with Bowring’s own two-volume The Kingdom and People of Siam, whose Appendix G (“LETTERS FROM THE KING OF SIAM, ETC.”) (Bowring 1857, v. 2: 422-446) contains nine enumerated letters with associated unnumbered royal letters and other documents.2 This is apparently the same sequence continued by correspondence in this present publication. That Appendix’s last letter, no. 55 (Mongkut to J. Bowring), is dated 23 April 1855; the earliest Mongkut letter published here, also to J. Bowring, is no. 105 dated 17 July 1855 (so presumably 50 enumerated royal letters in this sequence had been written between those dates). In addition to the transcribed royal correspondence Bowring published in his Appendix G, he published in the same book two royal letters as fold-out color lithographs: 27 March 1855 from King Mongkut (Bowring 1857, v. 1: 1); and 4 April 1855 from Phra Pinklao (ibid, v. 2: 1), now reproduced and transcribed here as Documents 10 and 11. The major compiler of King Mongkut’s English-language correspondence, however, was M.L. Manich Jumsai, who published his compilation of then-known correspondence (beyond those already presented by Bowring in 1857) in three parts in the Journal of Bowring’s 1857 Appendix G provides transcriptions of nine letters from King Mongkut within the enumerated sequence (38 to 55). Bowring also published letter no. 37 in facsimile only, without transcription; it is both transcribed and reproduced here (Document 10). Some royal letters published in 1857 include enclosures, perhaps comparable to the enclosed, printed New Year greeting published here. In 1857 Bowring also included some correspondence from himself to King Mongkut, as well as some additional King Mongkut to J. Bowring correspondence that is unnumbered and apparently not part of this sequence (see examples inserted after letter nos. 39 and 55 of Appendix G); these may be comparable to the unnumbered royal correspondence presented alongside numbered examples in the present publication.

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the Siam Society (Jumsai 1927-28). Jumsai’s invaluable works on the history of AngloThai relations (Jumsai 1970) and his story of King Mongkut’s relationship with Queen Victoria and the British (re-issued in several editions, originally Jumsai 1972 and under new title from the 3rd edition, Jumsai 1991) quoted from these and presented additional correspondence by Bowring and his associates. Jumsai’s later important study of “King Mongkut and Sir John Bowring” is largely based, as the book’s subtitle makes clear, on “Sir John Bowring’s personal files, kept at the Royal Thai Embassy in London” (Jumsai 1970). The book’s narrative unfolds largely through long quotations from selected examples of original correspondence, including previously published letters but also additional archival material that Jumsai found within the Royal Thai Embassy in London. Jumsai records, in fact, the day when, looking there for something else, he “suddenly came across the most amazing material directly concerning King Mongkut and Sir John Bowring” (1970: iv). (This corresponds to the present author’s story, on a far smaller scale, when he inadvertently found the letters presented here at the Library of Congress, also while looking for something else.) In fact, a file of material associated with John Bowring, consisting of letters, consular papers, newspaper clippings, etc., was published in 2005 as a six-volume set of photographic reproductions of the mostly handwritten documents within that file (Chuanpit et al., 2005). According to the unpaginated prefatory message by the Thai Fine Arts Department’s Nai Arak Singhitkun (before p. 1 of vol. 1), the original file whose contents are photographically reproduced in the six volumes had been found in 1964, in the coal cellar of a building in London being given up by the Thai embassy (31 Ashburn Place, South Kensington). The file was turned over to the Fine Arts Department in 1981, and later published by a publications section of the committee formed to celebrate the 200th anniversary of King Mongkut’s birth (2004-2005). These six volumes, which include additional examples of King Mongkut’s correspondence, were printed in few copies, and are now only minimally accessible for study.3 This publication, however, does include handwritten copies of two of the letters from King Mongkut recently found at the Library of Congress and published here (Documents 4 and 5 below). Thus we may say that these two letters, published and illustrated here, have been “minimally” published previously but not in transcription, only as photographs of that file’s handwritten copies, each labeled “(Copy)” at the top of the page.4 The U.S. National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) also maintains an online-accessible record (at www.nara.gov) of a few additional archival letters from Per the international WorldCat OCLC library database, these volumes are (in 2017) unavailable in any participating library outside Thailand. 4 These facts suggest a potential source of these documents. Two of the enumerated letters of King Mongkut, whose originals are among these letters recently found at the Library of Congress from the 1985 purchase in London (Documents 4 and 5 below), exist as handwritten copies within this file found in London in 1965 and turned over to the Fine Arts Department in 1981. It is possible that at some point, the original letters from this file in London were removed, and handwritten copies left in that file. The other documents presented here are not in that 6-volume publication, however. The author sincerely thanks Barend Terwiel for calling attention to and kindly checking these volumes for this paper. 3

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King Mongkut accompanying royal gifts, within its Record Group 59 (“Ceremonial Letters from Siam”), components of which were also color-illustrated or published in transcription by McQuail (1997) and by Taylor and Smith (2017). Finally, in 2004 Pramin Krueathong published a set of English-language letters from King Mongkut to Anna Leonowens, found in Thailand’s National Archives, in the Thai magazine Sinlapa Watthanatham: issues 25, 3 (January): 77-88; 25, 4 (February): 87-98; 25, 5 (March): 148-158; 25, and 6 (April): 133-140. This article augments the still relatively scarce examples of correspondence among these historic figures. The primary purpose is presentation of the documents themselves, both in illustrations and in transcription. Readers seeking the broader context in which this correspondence occurred would be well advised to begin with Philip Bowring’s (2014) lively and very readable biography of Sir John; and to consult Wyatt’s (1969) historical introduction to the Oxford reprint of Bowring’s The Kingdom and People of Siam (original 1857). In addition, Manich Jumsai’s historical accounts cited above not only introduce the protagonists in this correspondence but also directly exemplify the importance of primary documents like these in developing accurate historical narratives. This article also illustrates and examines the seals appearing on the letters, often ignored in prior publications of such correspondence. Some royal seals were used exclusively on royal correspondence to foreign recipients. For example, Samnak Lekhathikan Khana Ratthamontri (SLKR), the standard compendium of Chakri dynasty seals published in 1995 and frequently cited below, illustrates and discusses in detail a Thai seal used only for correspondence conveying royal gifts from Siam to China, from the time of King Rama I up until King Mongkut, Rama IV, decided to halt its use in 1852 (SLKR 1995: 52-53). The rather surprising absence, within this standard compendium, of many seals found within this set of correspondence and published here may be due to their having been sent outside of Thailand where they reside in archives elsewhere, rather than in the Thai archives consulted for the compilation of this standard work. An elegant, visually emphatic example that seems appropriate only for English-speaking recipients of royal correspondence would be King Mongkut’s English-language circular seal, with very European floral decorations but no crown, with the words “Major King of Siam” in English (see Document 4, Figure 4e), which like several other seals reported here is not found in SLKR (1995). Note on transcriptions. The transcriptions here (valuable for ease of reading but also for online topical or word searches) inevitably involve interpretations or “best guesses” from an editor. Occasionally a bracketed question mark (thus: [?]), following a transcribed word of phrase, indicates that the proposed transcription is particularly uncertain. Transcriptions may use “[illeg.]” indicating that the original is so “illegible” that the transcriber dares not proffer any guess. As the illustrations show, the name of a letter’s recipient was often placed at the foot of the first page; this is moved to the top in transcriptions here, with the note “[from footer:]”. In a few cases, this author has placed an editorial clarification or annotation, italicized in brackets (and marked “—Ed.”), immediately following an Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 1a. Letter, Phra Pinklao to John Bowring, 12 February 1853.

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accurately transcribed word/phrase that was originally misspelled or needs clarification, e.g.: “Bishop Pallegox [Pallegoix —Ed.]” Documents 1 through 9 below are the set of eight handwritten letters recently found in the Library of Congress collections, along with the printed New Year greeting accompanying one of those letters. (An additional loose envelope within that set is discussed below as an Addendum to Document 9.) Documents 10 and 11, as noted previously, here republish illustrations (scans from the originals) of the two related letters published as lithographs by Bowring himself in 1857, along with transcriptions of those previously untranscribed letters.

Document 1. Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 12 February 1853 This one-page letter (blank on reverse side) measures 322 x 202 mm (Figure 1a). This is the only example within this group of documents where two different people placed a seal. The placement of the two seals at the foot of the page follows the standard format in such cases, according to SLKR (1995: 68), with the King’s seal on the left and the other seal on the right. In this case, the remaining portions of the original red wax seal of the second king, Phra Pinklao, can be seen on the left (Figure 1b) (ca. 23 x 45 mm remaining). This partially missing wax seal depicts a jeweled hairpin on a pedestal, decorated at both sides with a tiered umbrella, indicating that this was the seal of Phra Pinklao; appropriate symbols since the term pinklao also means a decorated hairpin (see SLKR 1995: 57 for an illustration and explanation of this same seal; and cf. Figures 3e, 3f). At right is the seal of Prince Yod Ying Yot Baworn Rachorot Ratana Racha-Khumal (Figure 1c), who served as Minister for the “Front Palace” under Phra Pinklao. The seal (54 x 70 mm) depicts Vishnu on a canon. See SLKR 1995: 68-69 for further explanation and an illustration of this seal.

Figure 1b. Remaining portions of original wax seal. (ca. 23 x 45 mm remaining). This partially missing wax seal depicts a jeweled hair pin on a pedestal, decorated at both sides with a tiered umbrella, indicating that this was the seal of Phra Pinklao; the term pinklao means a decorated hairpin.

Figure 1c. Seal of Prince Yod Ying Yot Baworn Rachorot Ratana Racha-Khumal, who served as Minister for the “Front Palace” under Phra Pinklao. The seal (54 x 70 mm) depicts Vishnu on a canon.

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Palace of the Second King Bangkok Siam Feb. 12th 1853 To   His Excellency John Bowring L.L.D.      H.B.M.’s Plenipotentiary in China        & Superintendant of British Trade Dear Sir Your Excellency’s favor with the accompanying Camera lucida you so kindly sent me, came duly to hand, -- for which accept my warmest thanks. I am about to forward in a case addressed to your son J.C. Bowring Esq., a Siamese dress interwoven with gold thread -- which I desire your Excellency to accept as a slight token of my regard. It is of no great excellence in itself but may be a curiosity to some of your English friends. It will be found in the case marked E. With best wishes for your Excellency’s health and happiness, accept the assurance of my high regards                 P. Pavarentharames,             The Second King of Siam                 &c. &c.

Document 2. King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 17 July 1855 This letter is a previously unpublished example of King Mongkut’s royal correspondence that seems to be within the same enumerated sequence as previously published examples. For example, the last letter in this sequence published in Appendix G of Bowring’s (1857) book was no. 55 of 23 April 1855; the present letter is no. 105. That sequence may continue within this set of letters; King Mongkut’s 4 September 1857 letter to John Bowring is “No. 266” (Document 4 below). Yet the only other enumerated letter here is his 27 November 1858 letter to J. Bowring given the number at top left “190 manu regia” (Latin, “190 in the King’s hand”), as though it is in a different sequence, though the handwriting appears the same. This letter consists of two separate sheets (placed side-by-side in Figures 2a and 2b); each sheet is is 225 mm x 186 mm; page 1 only has a 5 mm green frame. The letter’s number “105” was written on it after the rectangular red seal had been stamped at its top left. That rectangular seal with Khmer script, according to SLKR (1995: 147-148) has two forms for royal correspondence: one, ong yai or “big seal”, used for granting titles or rank; while the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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second, seen here on this letter, is the ong lek or “small seal” form used for matters ranging from granting a pardon to foreign trade. All examples of this seal within the letters presented here use the “small” version (Figure 2c), which is distinguished by having the symbol of the Ohm prayer at the top of the inscription (see illus. SLKR 1995: 148) whereas the “big” version uses the word Ohm written out instead (see illus. SLKR 1995: 147). The lettering on this seal is in the Thai language written in Khmer script and says: phraborom ratchongkan, meaning “by royal order.”5 The green upright oval seal to the right of that (at top center) is the same seal we find at top center on the 1857 lithograph of King Mongkut’s letter published by Bowring himself (Document 10 below) (see Figure 2d). Note that both documents also have the same red rectangular seal in Khmer script on the left (Figure 2c).6 This green seal in upright oval form, though first apparently published by Bowring in 1857, does not appear in SLKR (1995), the compendium of Chakri dynasty seals. It displays a traditional Thai crown on a pedestal, from the sides of which rise two very European-looking flags with the monograms “T” and “Y.” Above the Thai crown hovers a thoroughly European crown (in striking contrast to the one below), within again a European-style decorated oval field. Though small in size, this seal visually encapsulates the increasingly global role of the Thai monarch at this time, accompanying his royal letters to the foreign recipient. The composition of this seal is far more visible on this recently found 17 July 1855 letter; we clearly see the “T” and “Y” in a quite distinctive, antique version of these two letters: T Y.7 By contrast, the underlying monograms seem quite obscured by the green cross-hatching of the 1857 lithograph. No seal in the standard compilation of Chakri dynasty seals (SLKR 1995) bears these monograms, the “T” and florid “Y” (superficially similar to a D). One possibility is that this might abbreviate the Thai phrase (T and Y highlighted): Thun kramom Yai,8 which could be parsed “[respectful address] + [crown of head] + [big].” This is a form of address for high-ranking persons (like “Your Royal Highness”). Yet though King Mongkut might have been addressed in this way earlier in his life, before becoming King, it is unclear if that is the correct meaning of the “T” and “Y” here. At King Mongkut’s signature we find his well-known standard seal at left, on page 4 (see illustration and explanation in SLKR 1995: 56; and discussion below under Document 4, with Figure 4f). At center is a seal with his “SPPMM” monogram with the crown, in a coat of arms format, again not reported in SLKR (1995) but found twice on this letter (at the signature and again at the P.S. on page 4). This same seal is also found twice on King Mongkut’s 4 April 1855 letter to Bowring that Bowring himself had published in 1857 (see Figure 10c), there also at the signature and again at the P.S. Many thanks to Peter Skilling for this transcription and translation. This juxtaposition of this same red rectangular seal with Khmer script, and the same upright green oval seal having the Thai crown below the modern crown, can also been seen on King Mongkut’s 10 June 1856 letter to President Franklin Pierce in the U.S. National Archives, and on its accompanying list of Thai royal gifts, see McQuail 1997: 46 and 51. 7 The font seems very similar to the 21st century “Mariage” font-family, and specifically the subset “Mariage Antique D” illustrated here. 8 Many thanks to Prof. Vigal Phongpanitanon for this suggestion. 5 6

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[from footer:] To His Excellency Sir John Bowring Knight LLD &c &c &c No 105 Rajmondirn house grand palace Bangkok Siam 17th July 1855 - which is the 5th of our reign My Most respected friend 1. I have acknowledged the receipt of your Excellencys letters under the dates of 10th & 23rd May together the book of which your Excellency has been author called “John Bowring’s Decimal system” sent me via Singapore through the care of my agent Jan Kim ching on the 24th June. 2. I have informed your arrival at Hong Kong in safety & the content of your Excellency’s letters and the contents of letters addressed to your Excellency by Mr. Logal [?] of Singapore & your Excellency’s answer to him printed in newspapers of China regarding the desire of merchants of Singapore to open the commercial intercourse with Cochin China, and your Excellency’s assurance to do so on future days when opportunity would allow to my royal brother the Second King Krom Hluang Wongsadhirajsnidh9 and His Lordship [page 2] Lordship Somdetch Chau Phya Param Maha Bijuy-niate10 & His Excellency Chau Phya Srisuriy wongse SPK11 who were glad to learn your Excellency letters Subjects & Safe arrived at China & pleasure of all merchants &c [?] of Hong Kong upon the articles of new Treaty &c. 3. The latter has returned from Ayudia for many days where he has decided correctly the matters occurred there in & executed 4 personages convicts on the matter. now whole province was tranqueal so as its governments & people of all classes are now enjoying happiness with out any misunderstanding, mistaking. 4. I have perused some pages of your book with much pleasure & interesting & admire mostly for your great knowledge of various languages, letters characters and System of Numbers I am sorry that I can not follow your Excellency ‘s knowledges in such the hard languages & sciences of various nations. 5. I will endeavor to let your Excellency have more particular of Siamese History & the particular of the present dynasity of royal family here. but I can not yet do on this occasion. the time not very long in which my ship Neptune will be sailed for Hongkong. Then I will sent some things in assistance to your Excellency’s Krom Hluang Wongsāthirātsanit (1808-1871), พระเจ้าบรมวงศ์เธอ พระองค์เจ้านวม กรมหลวงวงศาธิราชสนิท. Somdet Chao Phraya Borom Maha Prayurawongse (1788-1855), สมเด็จเจ้าพระยาบรมมหาประยูรวงศ์. 11 Somdet Chaophraya Borom Maha Sri Suriwongse (1808-1883), สมเด็จเจ้าพระยาบรมมหาศรีสุรยิ วงศ์; SPK indicates the rank “Samuha Phra Khlang”. 9

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Figure 2a. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 17 July 1855, unfolded. Showing outer pages, p. 4 (at left) and p. 1 (on right).

Figure 2b. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 17 July 1855, pp. 2-3 (reverse sides of sheets shown in Figure 2a; p. 2 is on reverse side of p. 1; p. 4 is on reverse of p. 3).

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Figure 2c. Detail of seal at top left of page 1 (in Figure 2a). This is the same seal used at top left of the 27 March 1855 letter published by Bowring in 1857 (see Figure 10a).

Figure 2d. Detail of seal at top center of page 1 (in Figure 2a), on left; and at right for comparison a detail of the seal at top center of the 27 March 1855 letter from King Mongkut published by Bowring in 1857 (see illustration of full page, Figure 10a). The 1857 publication’s seal (right) is darker and apparently obscures the monograms on the flags, yet this is the same seal. The monograms “T” and “Y” are much more clearly visible at left.

desired history of Siam by hand of my messengers who will pay your [page 3] your Excellency respectful personal visit. 6. Honorable Blundell Esquire the Governor of Straits settlement Malluccah & Singapore has written me his respectful address according your Excellency’s suggestion. his letter’s content is most praiseworthy & satisfactory to myself & others who have learnt thereof. on this occasion I beg to send this letter to your Excellency through his care to let your Excellency perceive that he became my friend for your Excellency’s sake & introduction. 7. There is my letter written in answer to his address the content of which your Ey [Excellency —Ed.] will have from him very easily if it were required. 8. The news of friends who remained in the service of Polygamy must be not suitable to inform to Christian friends. yet I trust your Excellency is knowing of the nature of all eastern countries will not displease my information of what shall be said to be my advantage & prosperity. Since departure of your Excellency my four upsprings a royal Children were born, the birth of one has been informed to your Ey in my last letter. after which was sent. my two sons & another daughter were bert [?] so now my royal Children totally are 14 individuals in this palace. There is no subject to be in further information. [page 4] The latter information will be needable when some time this question would be taken place “how many my royal Children? So I beg to supply your Excellency with the objects of answer.     I beg to remain your Excellency’s good friend     SPPM Mongkut Rex Siamensium P.S. My old friend Right Reverend John Baptist Pallegoix the Bishop of Malles embarked to Siam arrived here on 24th inst [instant —Ed.] has given me your Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Excellency’s intelligence & stated your Excellency’s goodness in high respect as exact as he has witnessed at Singapore where your Excellency met him.     SPPM Mongkut R Sm

Document 3. Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 31 August 1857 This letter is a single sheet, 320 x 404 mm, folded down the middle to produce four pages, each 320 x 202 mm, with the second and fourth pages blank (Figures 3a-3c). The fourth page (Figure 3d) formed the outer side of the folded letter, on which someone later made four lines of short annotations of the letter’s origin and date, and perhaps when it arrived or was filed (“Bangkok August 31, 1857 / Second King of Siam / Sept 24 / 26 [? —Ed.]”). The only inked (stamped) seal is on page 3, and it is covered by a pink paper flap (Figure 3b) which when opened reveals the well-known seal of Phra Pinklao (Figure 3c), depicting between two tiered umbrellas a pedestal holding a decorated hairpin (point to the left, decorative elements at right), above which an aureole is displayed. This seal has many variants (SLKR 1995: 53-57); the one found on this letter is particularly intricate and well-wrought. Yet another variant of this same seal was used for the envelope (Figure 3f). In addition to these inked seals, this letter displays (almost invisibly in photographs taken in normal light) a magnificently embossed seal of Phra Pinklao at the top center of the page. The seal, measuring 13 x 22 mm, can be seen via angled lighting in Figure 3e. Palace of the Second King, Bangkok, Siam, Aug. 31st. 1857. To His Excellency, Sir John Bowring, L.L.D. H. B. M. Plenipotentiary, &c. Dear Sir, I have to acknowledge your kind favor of July 25th, enclosing a letter from Dr. Knighton. H. B. M. Str. “Encounter,” as you have doubtless heard, reached here safely. Captain O’Callaghan was honored with visits to Our Palace, and he kindly remembered your Excellency to Us. After a short stay at the Bar, the “Encounter” bore away Our Embassy on their distant journey. Intelligence has been received of their safe arrival at Singapore. Our Government is much pleased, in consequence of the kind attentions, which the members of the Embassy acknowledge having received at Singapore, and on board the Steamer. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 3a. Letter, Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 4 April 1855, p. 1.

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Figure 3b. Letter, Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 31 August 1857, blank p. 2 (left) and p. 3, with paper flap over seal.

Figure 3c. Letter, Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 31 August 1857, detail of top portion of p. 3, with flap opened to show seal beneath. Measurement of seal (on right): Height: 73mm, Width: 70mm.

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Figure 3e. Embossed seal of Phra Pinklao, photographed with angled light. This embossing is nearly invisible in photographs taken in normal light. Embossing is at the top center of this letter’s page 1 (Figure 3a). Phra Pinklao’s seal Figure 3d. Letter, Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 31 depicts a jeweled hairpin on a pedestal, decorated at both sides August 1857, page 4 (with inset). with a tiered umbrella.

Figure 3f (above). Envelope; apparently for letter of 31 August 1857. 95 mm x 225 mm. Figure 3g (at right). Detail of the seal of Phra Pinklao (from envelope seen in Figure 3f).

It would be a very happy coincidence indeed, should I ever visit England, to meet you there. I do not despair of visiting England, nor of meeting you again. I hope favorable circumstances may occur, that may eventually enable me to gratify my wishes in this respect. Beautiful copies of your work on Siam have been received. Thanks for your kind remembrance of me. The books will receive a careful perusal, but as I am not given to criticism, I cannot promise you anything that will be an adequate compliance to your request. [page 2] It is gratifying to be complimented by people abroad. But we hope their compliments will not transcend the truth. With kind regards to all the members of your family, believe me, Yours affectionately, S. Phra Pin Klau Chau yuhua, Second King of Siam, &c. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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[Envelope text:] His Excellency Sir John Bowring, L.L.D. H. B. M. Plenipotentiary, Hongkong, Victoria, China. S. Phra Pin Klau Chau yuhua, Second King of Siam, &c.

Document 4. King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 4 September 1857 In the sequence of King Mongkut’s correspondence, this letter is number 266 (or possibly 265, the number seems to have originally been written “265” then modified to “266”). The photograph of a handwritten copy of this letter appears in the 6-volume set of materials found in the London file turned over to the Thai Fine Arts department in 1981, published in Chuanpit et al. 2005: vol. 1, pp. 246-251. The anonymous copyist clearly considered this letter No. 265. It consists of two sheets measuring 250 X 404 mm, folded down the middle to form eight pages each measuring 250 x 202 mm. The back of the folded letter (eighth page) has written on it only three short lines of annotation: “Bangkok 4 Sept 1857” then “First King of Siam” followed by the enigmatic number “24”. At the top left of page 1 (on right in Figure 4a) we find the same rectangular seal with Khmer script, in the ong lek or “small seal” form (see detail, Figure 4e), as discussed above with Document 2 (citing SLKR 1995: 147-148). At the top center of that page we find a circular seal in English, consisting of the words “Major King of Siam” within a very European-looking floral pattern (Figure 4e). It is the only example of this seal in these documents; possibly this seal was only used for royal correspondence to English-speaking countries. In fact, though no comparable English-language seal is found in the standard compendium of Chakri dynasty seals (SLKR 1995), three documents with this seal were published in McQuail 1997 (Figs. 22c, 27, 28a on pages 46 and 51), namely on the royal correspondence accompanying gifts sent by King Mongkut to U.S. President Franklin Pierce in 1856. With some magnification and angled lighting we can illustrate additional aspects of this document, all within the top left corner of page 1 seen with normal light in Figure 4a. For example there is a scarcely visible embossed seal on the page beneath the number (see Figure 4g) – yet unlike Thai embossings we find on other documents (e.g. Figure Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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3e), this appears to be the royal coat of arms of the United Kingdom. Presumably the paper King Mongkut purchased and used for his letter had been pre-printed in Britain with this embossed seal. Figure 4h magnifies the red wax seal (now partially missing) holding in place the string tying together the pages of this letter. The wax remaining (approximately 15 x 20 mm) displays another, unique version of the “Major King of Siam” seal pressed into the wax, with a pattern different from that on the ink-stamped version of this seal on this same letter (Figure 4e). Only the letters “Major Kin[g]” are still intact in the wax. On this letter’s signature page (page 7, Figure 4d) we find a smaller, unique variant of the coat-of-arms seal with the “SPPMM” monogram (also not reported in SLKR 1995, but similar to that seen on Documents 2 and 10, though this one is without the crown). This page has a particularly clear example of King Mongkut’s well-known standard seal, shown in Figure 4f. “Mongkut” means “crown,” and his seal (which he designed) depicts a Thai crown on a pedestal, with tiered umbrellas at each side, along with decorative motifs (flame or floral) rising at the sides above pedestals with lotus-leaf bases, and with a burst of rays from the top of the crown’s spire. (Compare illustration and explanation in SLKR 1995: 56.) [from footer:] To His Excellency Sir John Bowring K LLD the superintendent of British trade in China & Governor of Hongkong &ca &ca. No266. Royal Residence grand palace Bangkok 4th September 1857. Ex Majore Regi Siamensium Respected Sir I have acknowledged the receipt of the parcil superscribed in address to my royal name signed by your Excellency himself contain two beautiful book of Siamese national account (which your Excellency had devoted to fulfill in preparation after your E_y’s mission to our country & which your Excellency had alluded to in several letters addressed me occasionally until the last letter ~ before sending to accept our Ambassy.) from hand of Honorable R Gingell the officiating consul here on late of July or Early part of August. I have read its superscript & seen as fore said, knowing that the said books must be presented me from your Excellency without doubt & have opened it off. and when I looked upon the first pages thereof I saw the name of the second king of Siam. [page 2] Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Superscribed by your Excellency himself in hand writing upon the first pages of both volumns thus To His Most Excellent Majesty The second King of Siam. From his obedient friend & servant John Bowring Hong Kong 13rd July 1857. Having seen so I was doubtful & have presumed that your Excellency himself or your servants must have mistaken in superscribing at out side of the parcil as the parcil for me must be superscribed in name of the second king & the parcil for him, in my name perhaps. then I have returned those two books to Mr. Consul Gingell showing my foresaid observation of the different superscripts internal & outward of the said parcil. He has changed the outer wraping paper of the parcil & superscribed in name of the second king, to whom he sent immidiately for exchange of the other parcil formerly he had sent for acceptance of him upon the same time of deliverance the said parcil to me as he trust that the outer superscripts of both must be mistaken from Hong Kong. [page 3] But my younger royal brother the second king on having opened & examination of those two volumns has said that he also was doubtful as in the parcil addressed him formerly received by him before those two books have no superscript in first pages in my name or his name, and he did given his handwriting upon the first pages of them marking his name that those are belonged to him, before he has received the other two for exchange by order of Mr. Consul Gingell. and he said that he observed the outerfitting moroccos of two books recently sent for ~ exchange were more richly ornamented with gilt work than those two he had formerly ~ received for the consequence he was doubtful that those richly ornamented must be intended for me by you but having mistaken in superscript upon the first pages perhaps. and has returned them to me with statement of his doubt. Myself also yet am ~ doubtful lest you might have sent the former parcil in address to the second king and afterward for your consideration that those two books formerly sent for the acceptance of the second king were not richly ornamented with gilt work & you would please to sent him again two beautiful volumns through [page 4] through my care perhaps. yet the little doubt is inevitable as if you do so, why your Excellency did not address in his name firstly & mark under the above line that care of me? & why I would not have part to be accepted myself? when your Excellency had alluded this work in your late letters to me. and there is no reason by which your Excellency would not send this printed work to me for happy & interesting perusal? We (myself & my younger brother the Second King) will wait upon your Excellency ~ decision how those two sets of those two & two books to be parted Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 4a. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 4 September 1857; p. 8 at left, p. 1 at right.

Figure 4b. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 4 September 1857; pp. 2-3.

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Newly Discovered Correspondence (1853-1868) from King Mongkut

Figure 4c. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 4 September 1857; pp. 4-5.

Figure 4d. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 4 September 1857; pp. 6-7.

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Figure 4e. Detail of p. 1. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 4 September 1857..

Figure 4f. Seal of King Mongkut, from his 4 September 1857, letter to Sir John Bowring, p. 7. “Mongkut” means “crown,” and his seal (which he designed) depicts a Thai crown on a pedestal, with tiered umbrellas at each side, along with decorative motifs rising at the sides above pedestals with lotus-leaf bases, and with a burst of rays from the top of the crown’s spire. (See description and illustration in SLKR 1995:56.)

Figure 4g. Close-up with angled light, apparently showing embossed royal coat of arms of Great Britain. Though Thai embossed seals occur on other royal letters (see Figure 3e), one may speculate that in this case the paper used for this letter had been purchased from Britain pre-embossed with this seal.

Figure 4h. The wax attaching the strings tying together the pages of this letter displays what remains of a unique version of the “Major King of Siam” seal, different from the one stamped in ink on the same letter (approximately 15 x 20 mm wax remaining).

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among us both or shall be received by the second king only himself? I have perused certain parts of those two volumns & pleased mostly with the purport or content of the second volumn by observation of general correctness & truth of the object newly witness by your Excellency himself & other authors Mr Crawfut &eca. but the words in account prepared or written by Right Reverend John Baptist Palleux [?]12 are general uncorrect several mistakens were observed in every part though he was [page 5] was long resident here yet in preparation of his works he has joined with an ignorant Siamese teacher whose knowledge of Sanscrit names in tittle of royal persons & officers of State names of city & several districts &ca and knowledge of usage custom &ca of royalty and Buddhist pristhood are very far from the fact. as in his work all names were written without correctness of author graphy of Sanskrit which was known even to certain party of European Professor Wilson13 the president of royal Asiatic Society &eca the he wrote according to the corrupted & mispronounced sound of the common people of Siam & hold or held as it is correct with the European  literature also the names of officers of other department in other office [illeg.]; there are many mistaken indeed almost every page of the work adapted from work of Reverend Bishop Pallegox [Pallegoix —Ed.]. I can not indicate more over But since detail of visit of Cambodia by an European person all accounts are very pleasant until the end of the Second volumn. I please very much for interesting perusal & observation of truth. [page 6] I wish to examine every page of those two volumns & indicate the wrong or incorrect word & object by marking other papers denoting in number of pages gradually & send to your Excellency time to time. Your Excellency will perhaps please to correct those mistaken places or parts and improve your Excellency’s work on an other edition. but I regret very much to say that I can not devote myself to do so for prevention of my royal affairs here, in which I am continually engaging in ~ several hours of every day & night. Where as I have promised to your Excellency in my last letter to the “Lion” that I will send your Excellency the copy of my royal letter addressed to Her Britannic Majesty by our Ambassy with list of the Royal presents when I will have a good writer for me. to fulfill the said promise I have liberty to obtain an English writer who has copied my royal letter fully & finished a new copy to me which copy I have now much pleasure to send in accompanying herewith for your Excellency’s perusal with hope that your Excellency will please with my respectful term & style how my temporary knowledge of English language has allow me to do in preparation myself. [page 7] 12 13

Jean-Baptiste Pallegoix (1805-1862). Horace Hayman Wilson (1786-1860). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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assisted by Mr Consul Gingell only in placing but the names of the articles of presents which could be named in English by myself as certain several proper names in English are very unfamiliar to me. I wish your Excellency’s favour to my friend Mr Harry Smith Parkes by allowing him to peruse the royal letters copy after your Excellency’s perusal. as I have informed him through my letter to him on this opportunity that I have sent my royal letter’s copy to your Excellency wishing his perusal too.  Allow me to recommend your Excellency for kind favour to My man Mr Nai Kham if his stay will be continued farther at Hongkong. I have written & sent him my letter on this occasion too under the kind care of your Excellency & beg to remain your Excellency’s very sincere gratitude friend SPPM Mongkut Major King of Siam upon which I am reigning 2303 days ago.

Document 5. King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 November 1858. This letter is numbered “190 manu regia” (Latin: “190 in the King’s hand”) in the sequence of King Mongkut’s correspondence, thus apparently not the same sequence as prior correspondence within this set (see Documents 2 and 4). Possibly there is a different manu regia sequence, yet the handwriting on this letter matches that of the prior documents. The photograph of a handwritten copy of this letter, labeled “(Copy)” at the top of the first page, appears in the 6-volume set published by Chuanpit et al. 2005: vol. 1 pp. 590-593. The letter consists of one sheet measuring 253 x 404 mm folded down the middle to form four pages, each measuring 253 x 202 mm, and an associated envelope (98 x 219 mm) also bearing the number 190. The first page, which has a green printed border, depicts at top left King Mongkut’s standard seal, here in green (compare to Figure 4f, in red), and to the right of that one the red ong lek form of the Khmer script seal seen in Documents 2 and 4, with the Ohm prayer symbol. A border similar to the green border on page 1 is found on this letter’s envelope flaps, where a variant in green of King Mongkut’s standard seal has been placed (Figure 5c; see SLKR 1995: 56).

[from footer:]     To His Excellency Sir John Bowring LLD the Governor of Victoria HongKong &ce &ce No. 190 Manu regia Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Royal residence Mahamondir grand palace Bangkok 27th November 1858 Respected Sir Your letters under the dates of 2nd & 4th February inst [instant – Ed.] have been reached my hand on 22nd & 23rd of the same month, of which letter I have the honor in acknowledging the receipt, but I beg to seek very kind pardon from your Excellency for my being silent so long as for many months with answer to you in due course of time as I was very busy or much engaged on our local affairs & other long ~ correspondence with other noble friends at ~ England who became acquainted with me through the medium of our noble Siamese ambassy which were sent to pay our homage to Her Britannic Majesty on last year, the receipt of whom at London and several British colonies and very gracious treatment upon them of Her Britannic Majesty & Her Government were most satisfactory & praiseworthy than we have expected several hundred times indeed. our Ambassy were returned from England on March & have their honor of being present to the Emperor of the France & the Prince of Cairo too [page 2] We were mostly glad to have this honor of having directly friendship with the royalty and nobility in England which honor is not ever enjoyed by any monarchy in China & [illeg.] India. & our so gladness is not ever occurred to us even one before, our Ambassy said that they thought they were entered to paradis in heaven. According to your Excellency’s instruction I have written to your Excellency dear son Edgar Bowring & enclosed your letter to him & sent him with some present through the care of our ambassy. Your son has written me in answer declaring that his beloved wife was died he is unhappy. his letter has been reached my hand ~ before arrival of our Ambassy, which letter I beg to enclose here with for your Excellencys inspection Two books which you have ordered him to send me from England were sent to my chinese agent at Singapore who has forwarded to me & let me have received them after arrival of the ~ Siamese Ambassy. and I have handed the former two book to my dear Royal cousin His Lordship Chauphya Srisuriywongse SPK14 ~ according to the late instruction from your Excellency. Will your Excellency favour me to convey the information to my dear friends Mr & Mrs Parkes, that I have accorded their instruction & request have ordered our Ambassy to visit home of Mrs Parkes & do their enquiry for [page 3] their honorary interview with the parents & kindred of Mrs Parkes there, and our Ambassy have informed me that they have fulfilled my order & met with great festivity & respect at Mrs Parkes’ home for which I beg to return many sincere 14

Krom Hluang Wongsāthirātsanit (1808-1871), พระเจ้าบรมวงศ์เธอ พระองค์เจ้านวม กรมหลวงวงศาธิราชสนิท. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 5a. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 November 1858; p. 1

thank to both of them for their good instruction and introduction. Regarding the purpose of revision & correction of your two books I am very sorry for loss of the most amiable & favourable person Mr John Forrest who fell with dysantary on the month of February & became very ill on arrival of your Excellency’s letter under the date of 4th February & has lost his life on 24th of the said month. Doctor Samuel R House is now living far from hence little less than 3 [?] miles. it should be great difficulty if he be ordered to call on me every day for that purpose. Why Mr. Charles Bell now lives idle what he does now I do not know. he is Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

Newly Discovered Correspondence (1853-1868) from King Mongkut

Figure 5b. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 November 1858; p. 2-3.

Figure 5c. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 November 1858; p. 4

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Figure 5d. Envelope for letter (front), 27 November 1858.

Figure 5e. Envelope for letter (back), 27 November 1858.

now in the old house of Mr Samuel House or Mr Mattern [?] at the frontier part of the palace of my younger Brother Krom Hluang Wongsahdhi rajsnidh.15 Can your Excellency order him to call on me as often as twice or thrice in a week for that purpose? I say so as I perceived his knowledge of Siamese language is now extensive & he lives almost idle without any important business & affair. [page 4] I regret very much to inform your Excellency that my servant Mr. Naikham who has been at Hong Kong two year last under the favour of your Excellency, on his being returned here he became sick of the disease of the kind of consumtion & became ill gradually & was died on 16th inst [instant —Ed.]11 days ago. I ventur to inform his 15

Somdet Chaophraya Borom Maha Sri Suriwongse (1808-1883), สมเด็จเจ้าพระยาบรมมหาศรีสุรยิ -

วงศ์; SPK indicates the title “Samuha Phra Khlang”.

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sad intelligence to your Excellency as I thought that the said poor person ever had been familiar with your Excellency so long as for last two years I am very glad to learnt from various search the conclusion of the new best & most satisfactory Anglo chinese Treaty from negotiation of His Lordship the Earl of Eligin. I have learnt however but brief articles as only notes not exact. I shall fell much oblige from your Excellency if you will favour me by furnishing a full copy of the new Treaty as soon as ~ possible. also I wish to know the British ~ government’s opinion in regard to the war ~ which occurred at cochin China. Will the British force be allied to the French force or will be in neiwleriality [?]? as we know the French force even have been allied with British force, at several occasions as in Rusia [illeg.] &ce Myself & my royal family with my ~ younger brothers the second King & Krom Hluang Wongsah Dhirajsnidh16 & their families are in enjoyment of good health & hope your Excellency & your family will be the same. SPPM Mongkut MR Siam~ Reigning 3754 days ago. [Envelope text (see Figures 5d-5e):] No 190 To His Excellency Sir John Bowring LLD the superintendant of British trade in China & the Governor of Victoria Hong Kong &ce &ce &ce

Document 6. Printed New Year greeting, 1 January 1868, from King Mongkut. Though treated here as two separate documents (this Document 6 and Document 7 next), these are on a single sheet, 188 mm high and 195 mm wide (unfolded), which is folded down the middle to form four pages (Figures 6a, 6b). This document could have been folded such that this printed letter formed pages 1 (front “cover”) and 2, with the handwritten letter forming page 3 then a blank page 4 (“back cover”); or it could fold with the handwritten letter forming a “front cover” with the second page blank, then this printed greeting on the third and fourth pages. At the top of the first page of the printed New Year greeting we see a blue variant of the horizontal oval seal comparable to others in this group that have the acronym “SPPMM” but in this case with the fuller name “SPPM Mongkut RS” (i.e., “Somdet 16

Krom Hluang Wongsāthirātsanit (1808-1871), พระเจ้าบรมวงศ์เธอ พระองค์เจ้านวม กรมหลวงวงศาธิราชสนิท. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Phra Poramenthra Maha Mongkut, Rex Siamensium”). This seal seems to follow the form of the name handwritten there: S. P. P. M. MONGKUT R S, a phrase seen many times in these documents. This same seal can be found in red alongside the signatures of King Mongkut at the foot of pages 2 and 4 in Document 7, but is not found in SLKR (1995). The underlying printed document, here called Document 6, is dated in the text 1 January 1868, and constitutes a New Year greeting or address on two pages. This article apparently presents this original printed form of the greeting for the first time, though undoubtedly many other copies of this printed document were distributed. This 1 January 1868 letter does not appear within compendia of known English-language correspondence of King Mongkut. However, it appears that John Bowring, Edgar’s father, must have also received a copy, and sent it for publication in The London and China Telegraph. This newspaper (according to WorldCat OCLC records of library holdings17) was published in London “on arrival of the homeward mails from China Japan, Straits Settlements, & c.” The 13 March 1868 issue of this newspaper includes on page 132, under the heading “SIAM,” an article that begins: We have been favoured by Sir John Bowring with a copy of the following congratulatory letter, or New Year’s address, sent by His Majesty the King of Siam to his foreign friends in Siam and elsewhere:

This is followed by a complete transcription of this same New Year printed greeting. Thus, though this New Year greeting does not appear in compendia of King Mongkut’s English-language correspondence, and though this 1868 newspaper is an obscure source, we can say that the printed letter illustrated here, from this set of papers in the Library of Congress, has previously been published. A surprising find, however, from the search for records of its publication, is that this same document is actually the source of long passages within the works of Anna Leonowens. Much of the wording in this letter actually appears in her 1870 publication, The English Governess at the Siamese Court: Being Recollections of Six Years in the Royal Palace at Bangkok. In that book (Leonowens 1870a: 262-263), this New Year 1868 text has been slightly modified and integrated into her story of the court, as an “address” distributed on the occasion of the previous new year, 1867. She also published the same excerpts in the April 1870 issue of The Atlantic (1870b: 404-405). Since Leonowens’ story of the court was set in 1867, she changes the “address” accordingly, thus whereas King Mongkut’s original printed letter states he had reigned “6,076” days, Leonowens counts “5,711”, transposing the King’s New Year greeting to a year (365 days) earlier. Leonowens also omits passages relating to the relationship between the European and the Siamese calendars, specifically on the role astronomical events have within each system. Nevertheless, it is clear that she has directly taken these passages of her book from a copy of King Mongkut’s original 1868 New Year greeting published here, and modified them for a different time and context.

17

Available at www.worldcat.org; see OCLC record 14340761. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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[Handwritten in ink, above first printed line:] SPPM Mongkut RS [page 1, printed text:] S. P. P. M. MONGKUT, Called in Siamese “ Phra-Chomklau chao-y uhua,” In Magadhi or language of Pali “ Siamikanam Maha Rajah,” In Latin “ Rex Siamensium,’ In French “ Le Roi de Siam,” In English “ The King of Siam,” and in Malayan “ Raja Maha Pasah, &c. begs to present his respectful and regardful compliments and congratulations in happy lives during immediately last year, and wishes the continuing thereof during the commencing New Year, and ensuing and succeeding many years, to his foreign friends, both now in Siam: namely, the functionary and acting Consuls and consular officers of various distinguished nations in Treaty Power with Siam and certain foreign persons under our salary, in service in any manner here, and several Gentlemen and Ladies who are resident in Siam in various stations; namely, the Priests preachers of religion, Masters and Mistresses of schools, Workmen and Merchants, &c., and now abroad in various foreign countries and ports, who are our noble and common friends, acquainted either by ever having had correspondences mutually with us some time or ever had friendly personal interview with us some time, at a where and remaining in our friendly remembrance or mutual remembrance, and whosoever are in service to us as our Consuls, Vice-consuls and consular assistants, in various foreign ports. Let them know our remembrance and good wishes toward them all. Where as this very day is known generally in Europe as the 1st day of the month of January, in Anno Christi 1868, the first day of the New Year which is known by us in our native astronomical system as the day of Sdasiti sonkrant or Daxin Basu sonkrant, i.e. the day in which the sun crosses that part of Ecliptic in which part the sun’s diameter was largest for the sun being lowest or nearest to the earth on that very day in the year; so that this very day was remarked by us in like manner of the 1st of January of Europeans, al[page 2, printed text:] ways corresponding to the day of the Sdasiti son-krant or Daxin Basu sonkrant to us. Though we are not christians the forenamed King was glad to arrive this day in his valued life, as being the 23,085th day of his age, during which he was aged 63 years and three months, and being the 6067th day of his reign [sic, i.e. 6076th, see below —Ed.] during which he reigned upon his kingdom 16 years and 8 months up to the current month. In like manner he was very glad to see & know and hope for all his Royal Family, kindred and friends of both native and foreign, living near and far to him had arrived to this very remarkable anniversary of the commencement of Solar Year in Anno 1868, which is in Siamese astronomical system the year 4,969th of the Kaliyug, which will be added on being elapsed of 48 days hereafter and being of the Chinindial civil Era 1229 which will be added to be 1230 on being elapsed of 103 days hereafter. In their all being healthy and well living like himself, he begs to Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 6a. Printed New Year greeting, unfolded; left side blank, beginning of printed New Year greeting at right.

express his royal congratulations and respect and graceful regards to all his kindred and friends both native and foreign, and hopes to receive such the congratulation and expression of good wishes toward him and members of his family in very like manner ; as he trusts that the amity & grace to one another of every one human beings who are innocent, is a great merit, and is righteous & praiseworthy in religious system of all civil religion, and best civilized laws and morality, &c. Given at the Royal Audience Hall, “ Anant Samagome,” Grand Palace Bangkok, on the Wednesday, the 7th night of waxing moon; age of the Lunar month of Prissia, the 2nd of the cold season in the year of Hare or Rabbit, ninth decade of the local era 1229 ; corresponding to the Solar date of 1st of January, Anno Christi 1868, which may be called 18th year or in fact the 6,076th day of reign, of the fourth Sovereignity in the present royal dynasty upon the Siamese Kingdom. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 6b. Reverse side of pages in Figure 6a: printed New Year greeting, unfolded. At left, second page of printed New Year greeting; at right, handwritten letter, King Mongkut to E. Bowring, 16 January 1868, with seal.

Document 7. King Mongkut to Edgar Bowring, 16 January 1868, handwritten on printed New Year greeting dated 1 January 1868. On this one-page letter of 16 January, handwritten on the printed document dated 1 January that year, King Mongkut has placed his standard seal (see illustration and explanation in SLKR 1995: 56) at the signature. This same standard seal can be seen on later documents in Figure 8b and in the letter originally published by Bowring in 1857 (Figure 10c). As noted with Document 6, there is also a seal at the handwritten note “SPPM Mongkut RS” there. It is unclear whether, on copies of the purely printed document distributed (that did not have any handwriting) any seal would have been placed.

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Respectful compliments to Edgar Bowring Esquire the son of H.E. Sir John Bowring LLD. Phya Siama nukul Kith Siamamitre Mahayose,18 now the Envoy Plenipotentiary Extraordinary for Siamese affair in Europe from the writer above named who is most delighted & pleases mostly with Sir John Bowring his father the Envoy Plenipotentiary of Siam. Please accept the royal cards of photographic [illeg.] & royal name for the new year present & a token of remembrance.     Royal residence grand palace Bangkok 16th January 1868 which the 18th year of reign and [illeg.] of reign

Document 8. King Mongkut to Edgar A. Bowring, 28 May 1868. This document consists of a single sheet, 138 mm x 185 mm (unfolded), folded down the middle to form four pages (see Figures 8a, 8b). Page 1 bears an interesting square variation of the same ong lek red seal that we have seen on earlier documents in rectangular form, with the same Khmer script and the Ohm symbol, though shown here in square form (SLKR 1995: 147-148). (See discussion above, with Document 2.) The red seals with the acronym “SPPM Mongkut RS” (i.e., Somdet Phra Poramenthra Maha Mongkut, Rex Siamensium” – the phrase appearing on King Mongkut’s portrait on p. 2 above) is seen at the foot of pages 3 and 4 in this document. This seal is not found in SLKR (1995). At his signature (page 4), we find King Mongkut’s standard seal (SLKR 1995: 56). The writing avoids a triangular space at the top left of page 1, which is an embossed area of the paper itself thus on the top right of the reverse side (page 2), also avoided for writing. This embossing (seen with angled lighting in Figure 8c), possibly simply a decorative embossing pre-printed on imported paper, is of unknown provenance or significance.

18

Siamese title given to Sir John Bowring: Phraya Siamanukulkij Siammitrmahayot, พระยาสยามา-

นุกูลกิจ สยามิตรมหายศ.

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Royal residence grand palace Bangkok Siam 28th May 1868 To Honorable Edgar A Bowring Companion of the most honorable order of the Bath &ce 69 Malborunt Terrace Hyde Park London the son of His Excellency Sir John Bownring LLDe & FRS &ce now entitled in Siamese Significant title of Phya Siamanukul Kitch Siammitre Mahayose19 the Envoy Plenipotentiary of Siam in charge of Siamese affairs in Europe. [page 2] My Dear Edga Bowring, I have the honor to aknowledge the receipt of your letter under the date of Malborunt Terrace Hyde Park London March 13th 1868 reached my hand on 25th

Figure 8a. Letter, King Mongkut to Edgar A. Bowring, 28 May 1868 (p. 4 at left; p. 1 at right forming cover-sheet of 4-page letter, folded at center). 19

Phraya Siamanukulkij Siammitrmahayot, พระยาสยามานุกูลกิจ สยามิตรมหายศ. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 8b. Reverse side of sheet seen in Figure 8a. Letter, King Mongkut to Edgar A. Bowring, 28 May 1868, pp. 2-3.

Figure 8c. Detail (photographed with angled light) of embossing at top left of page 1 (reversed on reverse side of page, at top right of page 2).

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inst. [instant —Ed.] I beg to express on return my thank to you for its content as well as for selection of Mr Charles Kendall [?] done by you to be in my service as my acting consul in London during the absence of Mr DR Mason my appointed consul received [page 3] & recognized by HBM20 herself in her royal letter addressed to me directly three years ago. Mr. Charles Kendall has [?] discharged the consular duty in [illeg.] to me and my government in very satisfactory manner I wish him & yourself to be in favour to Siam on future as your father is now very much advanced in his age though he is yet now doing well in favour to us. I am thankful to him indeed perceiving the best effect of long continued friendship between me & him about 16 years ago. I beg to remain your good friend. SPPM Mongkut RS on 6224th day of reign [page 4] N.B. Myself & my Royal descendants and certain members of our government having longly pleasure on being in firm friendship with English so that we became English schoolar in our youth. but for we could not be baptized in Christianity. The English government in London seem to say & think us that Pagan Heathen Benighted Land as &ce [?] when we are in sincerity & honesty. I am sorry for such consideration toward us as the light or darkness in such the religious case & term [?] [custom? —Ed.] are in difficulty to be observed ascertained by. not easily light in astronomy, geology &ce. SPPM Mongkut RS

Document 9. Undated letter fragment, with seal of King Mongkut: [King Mongkut] to Edgar A. Bowring. This letter fragment, measuring 108 mm x 129 mm, is also part of the collection purchased by the Library of Congress in 1985. Its remaining text is brief: To Edgar A Bowring Esquire Board of Trade, Whitehall London 20

M or Majesty (Her Britannic Majesty); corner of page torn/missing. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 9a. Undated letter fragment addressed to Edgar A. Bowring.

Figure 9b. Loose envelope, undated. Reverse side is blank.

[missing] son of His Excellency Sir John [Bo]wring LLD the Governor of [Vi]ctoria Hong Kong in China. Below this remaining English text, the fragmentary Thai text seems to repeat the information in the English above, referring in the first line to “[missing] Edgar Bowring” while the truncated words on the second and third lines are probably “John” and “London.” This letter’s English text is not only apparently in the handwriting of King Mongkut, but also has his standard seal in white at the top left of the fragmentary page. The seal itself, though here entirely in white, has the same pattern as the green-on-white version seen for example in letter no. 190 dated 27 November 1858, both at top left on the first page of that letter and on the back of the envelope (Figures 5a and 5e). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

Newly Discovered Correspondence (1853-1868) from King Mongkut

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Addendum. Envelope. Finally, there is another item in this collection, a loose envelope, undated (figure 9b), measuring (with flap unopened) 77 mm x 211 mm. A penciled note on the envelope (“Second King of Siam”) may not be original; yet the ink writing does resemble that of Phra Pinklao. It is unlikely this envelope enclosed any document in this set. Of the five letters to Sir John Bowring, Document 3 and 5 already have matching envelopes. The height of this envelope (77 mm) is too small for the “maximum folded height” (i.e. at largest fold) of Documents 1 (which folded to 81 mm) or 3 (to 81 cm, and with matching envelope) from Phra Pinklao. Document 2 seems to have a maximum folded height of 67 mm and would fit. The many creases in Document 4 make it difficult to determine a clear maximum original folded height but it seems to have been folded in thirds (to approx. 83 mm), thus would not fit. Documents 2 and 4 are enumerated letters, comparable to Document 5, thus by comparison with Document 5 we might expect the letter’s number also to be placed on the envelope (see Figure 5d); this envelope has none. Most likely this envelope enclosed a letter from Phra Pinklao that is now lost. To His Excellency John Bowring L.L.D. H.B.M. Plenipotentiary in China & Superintendent of British Trade Hongkong This concludes the description of the previously unpublished (or minimally published) manuscripts at the Library of Congress, a total of eight handwritten letters, one of which is associated with the pre-printed New Year greeting of 1868. As noted above, Sir John Bowring also published in 1857 as fold-out color lithographs two royal letters sent to him: 27 March 1855 from King Mongkut (Bowring 1857, vol. 1, p. 1); and 4 April 1855 from Phra Pinklao (ibid, vol. 2, p. 1). Transcriptions and illustrations of these, from the 1857 originals in the Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History at the Smithsonian Institution, are included here (Documents 10 and 11). The similarity of seals on these two lithographs, published in 1857, to the seals seen on the recently found documents published here, has been noted at several points above. This article primarily aims to present the Library of Congress documents, including several little-known royal seals found on them. Yet two more seals originally published by Bowring in 1857, and not included in the SLKR (1995) compendium of Chakri dynasty seals, also do not appear in any of the newly found Library of Congress documents. These can both be seen in Document 10. Specifically, (1) the lozenge-shaped seal with the English words “Sovereign of Siam &c” (seen below the Khmer script seal at top right of page 1, and at the “P.S.” on page 3); and (2) the Chinese-language seal21 Thanks are due to Professor Charnvit Kasetsiri who for this paper kindly transcribed the text on the Chinese seal 鄭明 as Zheng Ming (in Mandarin) or Tae Meng (in Thai-Chinese Taechiu); that is, King Mongkut’s name and sae (surname). 21

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at left at the foot of page 3, which is quite different in format from any of the Chinese script seals discussed in SLKR (1995: 36-41, 58-59). The location and measurements of the original letters illustrated in Bowring’s 1857 volume are unknown. The two letters below were illustrated, not transcribed. Bowring’s transcriptions of royal correspondence begin in his Appendix G with the next enumerated letter, no. 38 dated 28 March 1855 (which in fact refers to this letter no. 37) – so readers are encouraged to take up the story again from there.

Document 10. King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 March 1855. The color lithograph transcribed and reproduced here (from an 1857 original in the Smithsonian’s Cullman library) was originally published in Bowring (1857, vol. 1, p. 1). No 37.  [from footer:] To His Excellency Sir John Bowring Right Dr of Laws &c &c &c

Figure 10a. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 March 1855, p. 1.

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Newly Discovered Correspondence (1853-1868) from King Mongkut

Rajmondirn house grand palace Bangkok 27th March 1855. My Gracious friend It give me today most rejoyful pleasure to learn your Excellency’s arrival here, as certainedly as your Excellency remained now on board the Steamer “Rattler” which accompanied with a brig of war. I can not hesitate to sent my gladful cordil more than an hour. I beg to send my private minister Mr. “Nai Kham Nai Pnong & Mr ‘Nai Bhoo” with some Siamese friends for showing  [page 2] showing of my first respect & expressing of my greatest joy, that I will have now personal entertainment with your Excellency in both publickly & privily as well as very intimate friend during your Excellency’s staying here, when our officers of State have communicated with your Excellency according to Siamese custom.  Please enter to Park nam as soon as I have ordered the high Supreme officer of the apartment of foreign affair, to get down today to “Park nam” where your

Figure 10b. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 March 1855, p. 2.

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Excellency will meet at the hall newly built for your Excellency’s receptance.     After consultation with the high officer there on your Excellency will be leaded or called to this City with as much respect as your Excellency is my friend. Please allow our respect according to Siamese manners. [page 3] your Excellency’s residence here was already prepared. we are longly already for acceptance of your Excellency. I remain your Excellency’s faithful friend      SPPM Mongkut the King of Siam P.S. I have just returned from old city Ayudia of Siam 15 days ago with the beautiful she Elephant which your Excellency will witness here on your Excellency’s arrival. SPPM Mongkut the King.

Figure 10c. Letter, King Mongkut to Sir John Bowring, 27 March 1855, p. 3.

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Newly Discovered Correspondence (1853-1868) from King Mongkut

Document 11. Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 4 April 1855. The color lithograph transcribed and reproduced here (from an 1857 original in the Smithsonian’s Cullman library) was originally published in Bowring (1857, vol. 2, p. 1). To His Excellency Sir John Bowring Governor of Hongkong Minister Plenipotentiary to the Empire of China &c. &c. Sir, It gives me great pleasure to hear of your Excellency’s arrival in Siam as the representative of your most gracious Sovereign Queen Vitoria. It will afford me great pleasure to meet and welcome you personally to Siam. In the mean time I beg your acceptance of a few Siamese fruits, bread, Cake &c, with the assurance of my high respect             I remain Sir             Your faithfully             S. Pinklaw chau yu hua,             Second King of Siam &c, Palace of Second King April 4th, 1855

Figure 11. Letter, Phra Pinklao to Sir John Bowring, 4 April 1855.

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Acknowledgments The author thanks Robert Pontsioen, Jared Koller, David Pomarède, Supamas Snitwongse, Chris Baker, Philip Bowring, Vigal Phongpanitanon, Peter Skilling, Barend Terwiel, Charnvit Kasetsiri, Wilasa Vichit-Vadakan, and Nyle Spoelstra for their help and insights. He also thanks the Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, for assistance; and the Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History of the Smithsonian Institution (Alexandra K. Newman, Leslie K. Overstreet), for scans from Bowring (1857). All photographs in this article are by Robert Pontsioen.

References Bowring, John, 1857, The Kingdom and People of Siam: With a Narrative of the Mission to that Country in 1855, London: J.W. Parker. Bowring, Philip, 2014, Free Trade’s First Missionary: Sir John Bowring in Europe and Asia, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Chuanphit Thongkhlaeo, Phatchankon Sekrat, and Supharon Roekdikun, 2005, Ekkasan chotmaihet chut : Siamese correspondence. Bangkok: Khana anukammakan fai chattham nangsue thi raluek nai khana kammakan amnuaikan chatngan chaloem phrakiat Phrabat Somdet Phrachomklao Chaoyuhua nai okat thi wan phraborom ratchasomphop khrop 200 pi. (6 volumes.) ISBN: 9744177292. Jumsai, Manich, M.L., 1927-1928, “English Correspondence of King Mongkut”, Journal of the Siam Society 21, 1 (1927): 1-35; 21, 2 (1927): 127-177; 22, 1 (1928): 1-18. ____. 1970, History of Anglo-Thai Relations, Bangkok: Chalermnit. ____. 1970, King Mongkut and Sir John Bowring (from Sir John Bowring’s personal files, kept at the Royal Thai Embassy in London), Bangkok: Chalermnit. ____. 1972. King Mongkut and Queen Victoria: The Model of a Great Friendship (first edition), Bangkok: Chalermnit. ____. 1991, King Mongkut of Thailand and the British: The Model of a Great Friendship (fourth edition), Bangkok: Chalermnit. Leonowens, Anna Harriette, 1870a, The English Governess at the Siamese Court: Being Recollections of Six Years in the Royal Palace at Bangkok. Boston: Fields, Osgood. Leonowens, Anna Harriette, 1870b, “The English Governess at the Siamese Court: The Author Recounts Her Adventures with the King of Siam”, The Atlantic Monthly 25 (150), April 1870: 396-410. McQuail, Lisa. 1997. Treasures of Two Nations: Thai Royal Gifts to the United States of America. Washington, D.C.: Asian Cultural History Program, Smithsonian Institution. Myers, Robin, 2017. Winifred Myers. Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association [website], “Past Presidents” section: http://www.aba.org.uk/About-the-ABA/More-About-the-ABA/PastPresidents/ABA-Past-Presidents-1950-1960/Winifred-Myers [Essay dated Sept. 2017; accessed 24 February 2018]. SLKR [Samnak Lekhathikan Khana Ratthamontri]. Phraratchalanchakon. Bangkok: Samnak Lekhathikan Khana Ratthamontri, 1995. (ISBN: 9747771632) Taylor, Paul Michael and William Bradford Smith, 2017. “Instruments of Diplomacy: Nineteenth-century Musical Instruments in the Smithsonian Collection of Thai Royal Gifts.” Journal of the Siam Society 105: 245-272 (and Contributor information, p. 337). Wyatt, David K., 1969. “Introduction.” Pp. v-xiii in John Bowring, The Kingdom and People of Siam. Oxford in Asia Historical Reprint. Kuala Lumpur (etc.): Oxford University Press. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

Southeast Asian Shadow Puppets in the British Museum: From Collecting Histories to Iconography Alexandra Green

The British Museum holds more than 700 shadow puppets from Southeast Asia in its collection. Half come from Java, collected by Sir Stamford Raffles during his tenure as Lieutenant-Governor of the island between 1811 and 1816. In contrast, the shadow puppets from Bali, Malaysia, and Thailand were deliberately purchased by museum curators in the mid-20th century to augment the museum’s Southeast Asian theatrical holdings. While the Raffles material is well known, the other shadow puppets remain relatively obscure. In the field of Southeast Asian shadow theatre, the performance and social side of the topic has been addressed, but there have been relatively few publications that examine puppet iconography.1 The trend has been for studies of the social contexts, political associations, performance traditions, and so forth, which are all essential for comprehending iconography, yet which have left a lacuna in shadow theatre studies.2 Here, I propose to initiate an exploration into shadow puppet imagery to begin to address this issue within the frame of collecting history. I explore the British Museum’s shadow puppets in comparison with other collections of similar material in order to expand the historic picture of puppet development. The focus in this paper is upon the Thai and Malay shadow puppets, because of their iconographic similarities that date to at least the 19th century and the fact that they have been less well studied than Javanese and Balinese examples. In contrast to the Raffles material, the Balinese, Thai and Malay puppets at the British Museum were collected opportunistically, rather than systematically, relying See Paritta Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context: nang talung Shadow Puppet Theatre of South Thailand (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Cambridge, 1981), 179-86. See also Amin Sweeney, Malay Shadow Puppets (London: British Museum Press, 1972), 25-41, and Angela Hobart, Dancing Shadows of Bali: Theatre and Myth (London: KPI, 1987), 67-124. While these scholars are the main ones to have assessed iconography, there are a number of scholars who have studied the varying contexts of shadow theatre, including Paul Dowsey-Magog, Khao yam – a Southern Rice Salad, Heteroglossia and Carnival in nang talung: the Shadow Theatre of Southern Thailand, PhD dissertation, University of Sydney, 1996; Christine Hemmet, Nang Talung: the Shadow Theatre of South Thailand (Amsterdam: KIT Press, 1996); and Michael Smithies and Euayporn Kerdchouay, “Nang Talung: the Shadow Theatre of Southern Thailand,” Journal of the Siam Society 60, 1 (1972): 379-390. 2 See Paritta Chalermpow Koanantakool, “Relevance of the Textual and Contextual Analyses in Understanding Folk Performance in Modern Society: A Case of Southern Thai Shadow Puppet Theatre,” Asian Folklore Studies 47, 2 (1988): 31-57. 1

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primarily upon the purchase of a main set to provide completeness. Haphazard approaches to collecting have historically been found in many museums, and the impossibility of bringing comprehensiveness to collections was realised even in the 19th century as space to house and display collections became difficult to obtain physically and financially.3 Similarities in approach to collecting can be seen in museums across Europe during the 19th and 20th centuries, and the British Museum actively shared in them, buying, exchanging and receiving objects from other institutions, such as the Ethnographic Museum in Leiden, the India Museum in London, the Wellcome Trust, and so forth. However, although it has acquired substantive ethnographic materials, the British Museum’s relationship to those objects has always been ambivalent: from the reluctant acceptance of such gifts in the 19th century to the dissolution of the Museum of Mankind in 1997.4 The sudden burst of Southeast Asian shadow puppet collecting in the 1960s and 1970s occurred fortuitously and in windows of opportunity when there were curators of such material at the museum and when there was space to do so. There is currently no space to add substantive numbers of puppets to the collection, and for the present, the shadow puppets will remain snapshots of specific times, requiring a cross-collection approach to iconographic studies.

The British Museum’s collection of Southeast Asian shadow puppets Shadow puppets first arrived in the British Museum in 1859. Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles had collected at least 365 examples during his time in Java. These were retained by his wife, Sophia Raffles, upon his death in 1826, and the executor of her estate, Reverend William Raffles Flint, offered them for purchase to the British Museum in early 1859. This was refused, but the objects were accepted by the museum when offered as a donation later the same year.5 A second body of material, including shadow puppets, entered the museum in 1939 upon the death of Raffles’ great-grandniece, Mrs. J.H. Drake. Only two further Javanese shadow puppets have been added to the collection since then.6 Most of these puppets are from the wayang purwa tradition, in which the Mahabharata and Ramayana epic narratives are performed. About ninety are characters from the Panji story cycle, the wayang gedog tradition. Neither the wayang purwa nor the wayang gedog puppets forms a complete set, and some common items, such as the clowns who accompany the clown Semar, are absent. Were they not available from Raffles’ sources, or was he not interested? It is impossible to say. The puppets appear See David M. Wilson, The British Museum: A History (London: The British Museum Press, 2002), 93-139. He discusses the repeated requests by the institution for necessary additional space in the early to mid-19th century. 4 Ibid, 157-61. See also, John Mack, “Antiquities and the Public: the Expanding Museum, 185196,” in Marjorie Caygill and and John Cherry, eds., A.W. Franks: Nineteenth-Century Collecting and the British Museum (London: The British Museum Press, 1997), 34-50. 5 Trustee Minutes, 12 Nov. 1859, p. 674. 6 These arrived in 1974. Five wayang hip hop puppets were purchased in 2016, but these are not meant to be used to create shadows, although they are in the same format as shadow puppets. 3

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to come from both the central and north coast traditions, and the high quality of the carving and painting and the use of gold leaf suggests court origins. However, in his volume, The History of Java, Raffles only discusses shadow theatre generally, and, in his papers in the British Library, there is no mention of sources for the puppets, and unfortunately, there is little further information about how and where Raffles collected the Javanese shadow puppets. The collecting history of these objects thus remains obscure. The British Museum’s interest in Southeast Asian shadow theatre traditions was not particularly strong, and except for the Raffles material and the purchase of a single Thai nang yai puppet from Sir Sydney Burney, President of the British Antique Dealers Association, in 1929, nothing was added to the puppet collections until the mid-20th century. The Thai nang yai puppet is imposing at more than 177 cm high. It is dark brown with limited pigmentation, which, in comparison with the old collection at Wat Khanon in Ratchaburi, Thailand, appears to be standard for early puppets of this type. At the time of acquisition, it was tentatively identified as Virun Chumbung by Mr. C. Piansukprasirt, but it might also be Virun Yamuk,7 a son of a nephew of Ravana, the demon king, or a representation of Indrajit, Ravana’s son.8 However, no further acquisitions relating to this court-based shadow puppet tradition were made, nor were any puppets from the related Cambodian shadow theatre, nang sbek, added to the collection. The nang yai puppet remains the sole example of this central, mainland type in the British Museum’s collection, unlike the bodies of such material found at other European and American museums. At the British Museum, interest in shadow theatre emerged in the mid-20th century when curators in the Ethnography Department made a concerted effort to display and expand the puppet collections with examples from other areas in Southeast Asia beyond Java. In 1969, a group of seventy-eight Balinese shadow puppets were purchased from M.L.J. Lemaire, a dealer in Amsterdam, who had acquired them from an old Dutch colonial family that had been based in Bali and returned to the Netherlands with the puppets at the end of the First World War. The Balinese collection, which like the Raffles material is not a complete set, comprises specific characters, demons and ogres, deities, villagers, women, animals, clowns, and props. More than thirty of the puppets represent Pandava and Korava characters from the Mahabharata, but Korava personages are not significantly in the minority, as is standard for Balinese collections.9 There are also puppets identified as Ravana, the demon king, Wibisana, a brother of Ravana, Anila the monkey, and a tentatively identified Prince Rama. These are unusual as they are characters from the These are the names as given in the British Museum’s register. Today, following standardised Thai romanisation, the spellings would be Wirunchambang and Wirunyamuk. I will use characters’ names as usually spelled in English, rather than the local nomenclature, for easy recognition throughout the paper. 8 The latter attribution made in comparison with other old puppets in the collection at Wat Khanon in Ratchaburi province. 9 Angela Hobart, Dancing Shadows of Bali: Theatre and Myth (London: KPI, 1987), 116-17. 7

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Ramayana, a narrative not commonly performed in Bali.10 The fact that there are so few of these compared to those representing the Mahabharata indicates that the set is composite, with the limited number of Ramayana puppets corroborating the story’s lesser popularity in the Balinese context. Additionally, it highlights the fact that many, though not all, puppets could be used as multiple characters of equivalent status in various narratives. The quality of the puppets varies, however. The carving on some is highly detailed, especially on the headdresses, clothing, and hair, and is extensive in the case of high-ranking characters. Painting is less carefully executed, with large areas of a single colour. Some details, such as the hair on ogres’ bodies, is painted rather than carved. The pigmentation shows significant wear, especially on the high-quality puppets, suggesting heavy use prior to acquisition by the Dutch family, and pushing the date of production back to the mid to late 19th century. The crude examples, which show some but not substantial signs of wear, probably date to the end of the 19th or early 20th century. Again, as with the Raffles collection, there is no information about how or where the puppets were collected that would provide the early history of these pieces. The Thai and Malaysian puppets are better documented. The British Museum accessioned 136 puppets from the collection of the famous Malaysian puppeteer, Tok Awang Lah, in 1970. He was based in Kelantan, the north-eastern Malaysian state where shadow theatre was once an important part of ritual and entertainment cycles. Although there have been claims that the puppets were disposed of inappropriately,11 Shelagh Weir, the curator making the purchase, recorded at the time that Tok Awang Lah performed a ritual to enable the sale of his puppet collection. Most of the museum’s Malaysian puppets were made by Tok Awang Lah, and exceptions were documented as such. At the same time, Weir purchased thirty-five southern Thai-style puppets made by Charoen, a Thai puppeteer and puppet maker living in Kelantan, specifically for comparative purposes with the Malay collection.12 In 1977, a further body of seventy-eight new, southern Thai puppets, nang talung, was purchased on behalf of the museum by Paritta Chalermpow, a PhD candidate at Cambridge writing on the subject. She also collected a similar body of material for the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology in Cambridge.13 The British Museum’s collection consists of 249 shadow puppets from central and southern Thailand and north-eastern Malaysia.

10

Ibid, 68. Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof, Angin Wayang: A Biography of a Master Puppeteer (Malaysia: Ministry of Culture, Arts and Tourism, 1997), 25. The statement that the puppets were sold to Mubin Sheppard is also incorrect. 12 Personal communication, Shelagh Weir, April 2016. 13 While the British Museum’s collection of Thai shadow puppets is from the nang talung tradition, it must be noted that there are numerous shadow theatre forms in Thailand. Using a generic term like nang talung to refer to Thai shadow theatre obscures actual subtleties found in practice. However, a discussion of the varying types is beyond the scope of this paper, and the term nang talung is used as a shorthand for the multiple, non-court-based shadow theatre forms. 11

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Malaysia Malaysia has at least four different, but related, shadow theatre traditions, the most prevalent being wayang siam, now locally called wayang kelantan, and it is this type of puppet that the British Museum holds.14 As mentioned, all the Malay puppets were from Tok Awang Lah’s collection, and most were made by him. Almost half are demons or unrefined characters, and the remainder includes commoners, religious or ethnic characters, clowns, women in traditional dress, deities and holy men, animals, scenery and props, and characters from the Ramayana.15 A few are made of plastic instead of the traditional animal hide, evidence of an experimentation with new materials that primarily occurred in the mid-20th century. Puppets of Ravana in animal form, a popular transformation activity of that character, are absent from Awang Lah’s collection, and female puppets are limited in number. The Ramayana epic, including branch and twig story offshoots, was important in Malay shadow puppet theatre, and the collection does include puppets easily identified as Rama, Lakshmana, Sita, Hanuman, and Ravana. Mah Babu Senam, brother of Ravana and advisor to Rama, is represented in a standardised form with large mouth, beard, and turban headdress, as is Mah Babu Kenong, another advisor to Ravana. There are several monkey puppets that could be used to represent different characters, such as Anila, Raja Tilam, Anggada, and so forth.16 The collection also has characters from related branch stories that are not in the main epic, such as Hanuman’s son by a fish princess, Hanuman Ikan, and the two sons of Rama and Sita. The puppets generically called jinn, ogres, or followers of a Ratu, could be used as Ravana’s sons or other named demonic characters in the Malay tradition. A preponderance of ogre-like puppets, including the monkeys who are shown with large mouths full of teeth like the demons, is typical of 20th century puppet collections.17 This reflects the numerous kith and kin of Hanuman and Ravana, in contrast to the smaller family circle of Prince Rama, and emphasises the popularity of the branch and twig stories. Pak Dogol and Wak Long, the main clowns, are also present. The puppets made by Tok Awang Lah range widely in terms of quality. Some have been carved and painted with great care and attention to detail. Others display few details and are painted with large swathes of a single colour. This dichotomy appears to relate to the nature of the character being represented. Thus, princes and For further information, see Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof, The Malay Shadow Play: An Introduction (Penang: The Asian Centre, 1997), 5-11. Most of the scholarship on Malay shadow puppets relates to wayang siam, also known as wayang kelantan, as that is currently the dominant form. 15 In the past, the Ramayana epic and its variants have been the most popular source for shadow theatre performances. See Amin Sweeney, “The Rama Repertoire in the Kelantan Shadow Play: A Preliminary Report,” in Mohd. Taib Osman, ed., Traditional Drama and Music of Southeast Asia (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa Dan Pustaka, 1974), 5-18; and also Amin Sweeney, The Ramayana and the Malay Shadow-Play (Malaysia: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan, 1972). 16 Muhammad Dain bin Othman (Pak Dain), Wayang Kulit Melayu Tradisional Kelantan (Malaysia: Mahmanis Enterprise, 2011), 155-60. 17 This can be seen in the collection at the Kelantan State Museum in Kota Bharu and in puppets belonging to puppeteers Pak Dain and Pak Hamzah (d. 2000). 14

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other royal characters are highly detailed.18 For instance, the museum’s puppet of Prince Lakshmana is 92 cm from the tip of the crown to the end of the central rod (Figure 1). It has one moveable arm, with the other holding a sword against its hip. Although the head and feet are in profile, the torso is presented frontally. The costuming of the puppet is highly elaborate, from the naga form on which the character stands to the bracelets, armlets, anklets, an elaborate breast chain that partially covers the chest, and tall, pointed crown with a tiered effect and flanges, similar to Thai examples. The cloth of the trousers is heavily embellished with floral and geometric forms. These decorations have been picked out in black, yellow, red, green, white, and brown paint, creating a sumptuous puppet.19 Other characters appear cruder. In Figure 2, the demon is painted with large sections of red, green, and black pigment, with white paint used to highlight some details. As with the puppet of Lakshmana, the features of the puppet are emphasised through the use of Figure 1. Prince Lakshmana. Hide, wood, pigment, and cotton. Made by Tok Awang Lah. Tumpat, Malaysia. Early to mid-20th separate colours. For instance, the century. H 92 cm. As1970,02.105. © Trustees of the British Museum hair tendrils are marked by alternate stripes of black and white, which, in turn, alternate with the red and green lines of the demon’s headdress. Although the large patches of solid colour make the puppet look crude, the features of the face and clothing are clearly differentiated with careful, but simple, carving. However, in looking at the shadows that this puppet casts, it is apparent that the minimal carving was executed with some delicacy, and the clothing, hair, and features are clearly marked and presented. Compared with the good characters, however, demons Pak Dain, Wayang Kulit, 21. Ibid, 23. The introduction of translucent, coloured puppets started in the second half of the 20th century, according to Pak Dain, and this is borne out by museum collections. 18 19

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have considerably less detail, giving them the requisite rough look. Even Ravana, the demon king, although magnificently arrayed, appears coarse compared with Lakshmana because the carving uses limited numbers of small perforations and no openwork.20 The result is a heavy appearance compared with the human princes. As is typical of other shadow theatre traditions in Southeast Asia, differing features emphasise the nature of the character being portrayed. The Malay shadow puppets in the British Museum exemplify the crosscultural nature of the tradition, as they share iconographic and stylistic features with Thai and Javanese examples, although Malay examples tend to be larger than either of the others. High-status characters in Malay shadow theatre primarily connect with Thai art forms, while the demonic characters Figure 2. Demon. Hide, wood, pigment, and cotton. Made by Tok Awang Lah. Tumpat, Malaysia. Early to mid-20th century. H 77 cm. As1970,02.94. and animals display links © Trustees of the British Museum with Java.21 For instance, the puppet of Lakshmana stands upon a naga (Figure 1), which can be seen on early southern Thai puppets of royalty and on most nang talung puppets of royalty in the central region, and wears a Thai-style, tall, tapering crown. His stance, with one hand holding against his hip an upright, unsheathed sword that parallels his body, is also typical of central Thai representations of protective deities, as is the single moveable arm. However, the See BM object no. As1970,02.110. Sweeney, Malay Shadow Puppets, 25. Sweeney writes that refined princes, demigods, women, traditional ogres, coarse demigods, apes, sages, and clowns have Thai characteristics, while officers and captains of ogres and coarse princes, and the coarse princes themselves have Javanese characteristics. 20 21

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Figure 3. Composite animal. Hide, wood, pigment, and cotton. Made by Tok Awang Lah. Tumpat, Malaysia. Early to mid-20th century. H 53 cm x L 61 cm. As1970,02.117. © Trustees of the British Museum

position of the feet, separate and in profile, links with Javanese puppet poses, as in Thai painted representations, feet are usually placed almost side by side or in heel-totoe arrangements. Other puppet types represent widespread forms. For example, the composite animal in Figure 3 relates to a larger Asian iconography of similar creatures, such as the Chinese qilin, the Burmese pyinsayupa (pancarupa), and the Indonesian singhabarwang and paksinagaliman.22 This Malaysian example draws on several of these traditions as it is composed of the head of an elephant, the wings and claws of a bird, and the rump and hind legs of a buffalo. In comparison, the Burmese animal has the trunk of an elephant, the face of a lion, the ears and hooves of a horse, the horns of a deer, the body of a fish, and the wings of the mythical Garuda bird, and the Indonesian singhabarwang includes an elephant’s head, lion’s body, and bird’s wings. Although the Malay puppet has the Indonesian combination of elephant and bird characteristics, it does not have a lion’s body, and the use of bovine features suggests a link with the Farouk Yahya, Magic and Divination in Malay Illustrated Manuscripts (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 188-92. 22

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Burmese and Chinese traditions that do incorporate hooved animals into their composite creatures. Fearsome beings and monkeys in the Malay collection relate to the Javanese tradition, which may have emerged from the tradition of wayang jawa, a Kelantanese courtly art form that used instruments and puppets that related to performances from Java. While wayang jawa is now largely extinct, its association with the courts may have assisted with the transfer of imagery from one shadow theatre tradition to another.23 The Malaysian demonic puppet in Figure 2 is a typical type that resembles Javanese shadow puppets, with hair streaming behind him, a forward-leaning stance, and the greater bulk of clothing against the back leg (called the bokongan), providing a strong diagonal pull visually.24 Javanese facial features, such as the bulbous nose, large Figure 4. Demon. Hide, wood, pigment, and cotton. Made by Tok round eye, the moustache Awang Lah. Tumpat, Malaysia. Early to mid-20th century. H 89 cm. form defining the mouth, open As1970,02.118. © Trustees of the British Museum mouth, and pointed and visible teeth, indicate the character’s demonic temperament. However, not all demons, ogres, and followers of coarse princes incorporate elements of Javanese puppets, and there are a number of Malaysian ogre shadow puppets that emerge from other contexts. One such example, in Figure 4, has an elephant-like snout that resembles that of the makara creatures found on Hindu and Buddhist temples during the central and east Javanese periods and the elephantI am indebted to Irving Chan Johnson (personal communication, August 2017) for his suggestions on this topic, particularly the idea that it may have been more wayang jawa itself, rather than shadow puppets from Java, that had this iconographical impact. 24 Javanese examples at the British Museum include: 1) As1859,1228.527, 2) As1859,1228.528, 3) As1859,1228.529, and 4) As1859,1228.530. 23

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snouted nagas that flank entrances to many Thai Buddhist temples. The puppet’s face is decorated with colourful arched shapes, and it has an open mouth, showing extensive white teeth and a long, red tongue. It also has horns and a flowing, tail-like embellishment that falls diagonally from the neck to the hip and then curves up the back like a monkey tail. The character holds a knife above its head in an aggressive posture typical of these particular puppets, which may relate to central Thai representations of battle scenes where combatants hold weapons behind and above their heads. However, some features, such as the round eyes and bulky body, still relate to the Javanese tradition for representing coarse characters. This generic demon puppet, made by Tok Awang Lah, has been copied by later puppet makers, and in the collection of puppeteer Pak Dain, it is a named character. The analysis of shadow puppets from the collection of Tok Awang Figure 5. The demon-king Ravana. Hide, wood, pigment, and cotton. Made by Pak Dain. Tumpat, Malaysia. Late 20th century. © Lah now in the British Museum Alexandra Green demonstrates the variety of ideas used in the production of Malay puppets during the mid-20th century. Tok Awang Lah has also been a significant influence on puppet production in the second half of the 20th and the early 21st centuries. Quite a few puppeteers, such as Pak Hamzah bin Awang Amat, Pak Muhammed Dain bin Othman, among others, have continued to utilise Tok Awang Lah’s designs. Pak Dain has praised the Rama puppets created by Tok Awang Lah as displaying superlative craftsmanship and drawing skills and has produced very similar puppets himself.1 The two main types of demon discussed above continue to be produced, as do puppets that look like the museum’s puppet of Ravana, the demon king. For example, Pak Dain’s puppet of Ravana displays the same high headdress complete with miniature heads, the claws, striped trousers, neck yoke with diagonal flanges over the chest, the club decorated with a two-toned, spiral Pak Dain, Wayang Kulit, 21. He writes that Awang Lah had unsurpassed Rama puppets that were examples of fine craftsmanship and drawing.

1

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design, round eyes, and the bulbous nose seen on Awang Lah’s version, although the latter shows more determination of character and less anxiety than Pak Dain’s cute figure (Figure 5). In current production, earlier influences remain, and the puppets have become highly standardised in the forms discussed above. Of course, the Malay shadow puppet tradition has not been static. One innovation has been the development of translucent hide puppets that allow the colours to show through the screen, transforming the performance from a black and white one into a multicoloured spectacle. Translucency has become a standardised feature, but it has not reduced the amount of carved detail, suggesting that colouration is an additional decorative feature, rather than a replacement for carving. Plastic puppets were another innovation. Although primarily formed of opaque hide puppets, Tok Awang Lah’s collection also includes a few of these made by other producers. Such puppets are small, with details produced by colouration, since carving is not possible in the thin plastic and would create little effect upon the screen. This plastic puppet of a woman sports contemporary dress, a standard feature of common characters (Figure 6). While translucent puppets Figure 6. Female character. Plastic, pigment, bamboo, are now common, due to the use of and cotton. Malaysia. Mid-20th century. H 43.2 cm. commercially prepared hide, the plastic As1970,02.43. © Trustees of the British Museum experiment was less successful with comparably few such puppets in use. While Tok Awang Lah’s prominence has dominated Malay shadow theatre collections since the mid-20th century, he was not generally as innovative as might be assumed. In looking at 19th and early 20th century collections, such as those at the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford and the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology (MAA) in Cambridge, it becomes apparent that he drew heavily upon earlier puppet forms. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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The puppets at the MAA in Cambridge push the links between Thai and Malay shadow theatre back into the 19th century.2 The Skeat collection of nearly 150 shadow puppets, acquired from a Kelantanese puppeteer, Che Abas or Enche Abas, performing in the state of Selangor in the 1880s and 1890s, was given to the museum in the late 1890s.3 William Skeat was a colonial official primarily interested in the aboriginal peoples of peninsular Malaysia, but who also collected Malaysian material culture more generally. The puppets that he gathered are made of hide much thicker than that used in the 20th century, rendering them completely opaque, and they often still have animal hair on them. Many are uncoloured, while others have been decorated with red, white, black, and blue-green pigments. The puppets are smaller than those belonging to Awang Lah, averaging between 40 and 60 cm high, and in this way resemble early southern Thai puppets. Stylistically, the Skeat puppets are distinct in many ways. There are very few monstrous types, indicating that the 20th century preponderance is a relatively recent phenomenon. The demonic figures do not resemble any of those remaining in later collections. For instance, one hantu has a rounded black body, two legs with ill-defined feet that curve up towards the body, one fixed arm that holds what might be a club, a wide-open, ferocious snout with five long and pointed teeth, a thin protruding tongue that curls up towards the nose, a bewhiskered and pointed nose with perforations, round eyes, horns, and a solid-black, conical headdress or hair bundle. Other than the head, the hide is not perforated, so the shadow would just be an outline, and the puppet itself is painted in solid swathes of red, black, and white pigment or left plain. The snout and tongue are repeated on other puppets. A popular variation to this is a raptor-like snout-beak with the pointed ends curving in to enclose the open mouth filled with sharp teeth and a thin tongue that extends for the length of the interior space and sometimes beyond (Figure 7). While the protruding tongue and snout could be a precursor for the demon type seen in Figure 4, and the round eye connects with Javanese puppets, the remaining features are not common in currently extant collections.4 Some of these monstrous features can also be seen in the Skeat monkey puppets, but unlike on Thai and Javanese examples, the tails are short and do not snake up the back. Human figures in the Skeat collection are likewise different (Figure 8). Royal human characters are shaped in an hourglass form with wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and bell-shaped skirt or trouser-like lower garments. Faces are barely defined with tiny eyes and mouths, and heads are often small in comparison with the bodies. Two puppets from a Pattani Malay troupe performing in the state of Perak, acquired by the Pitt Rivers Museum in 1912, are very similar to Thai puppets from the late 19th and 20th centuries. Pitt Rivers object numbers 1912.27.1 and 1912.27.2. See their online database, http://databases.prm. ox.ac.uk/fmi/webd#objects_online. 3 For further information about William Skeat, see J.M. Gullick, “W.W. Skeat and Malayan Ethnography: An Appreciation,” Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 61, 1 (1988), 117-52. 4 These forms can be seen in Malay divination manuscripts, however. See Yahya, Figure 47, for instance. 2

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Figure 7. The ferocious-looking puppet of Awang Pelelehan Gada. Hide, bamboo, fibre, and pigment. Malaysia. Mid to late 19th century. H 40.7 cm. Skeat collection Z33593. © Courtesy of the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Cambridge

Figure 8. A high-status character. Hide, bamboo, fibre, and pigment. Malaysia. Mid to late 19th century. H 45.5 cm. Skeat collection Z33774. © Courtesy of the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Cambridge

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Stances usually see the feet apart and in profile. Bodies are frontal with the chest thrust forward, the back arched, and the head thrown back, creating a pronounced curving line. Most of these puppets are characterised by little detail and simple decorative carving, so that in performance the shadows would be solid in parts and would display repetitive, simple perforations elsewhere. Undetailed openwork can only be seen on a few prop puppets, such as leaves. Despite these variations in puppet style and iconography, several features are part of the standardised repertoire seen in the 20th century. As mentioned, the long, protruding tongue seen on the Skeat puppets gets repeated on the non-Javanese style, demonic-looking characters in the 20th century (see Figure 4). The bell-like trousers and skirts can be seen in generic, high-status characters dressed in traditional Malay style (Figures 9 and 10). Princely figures can preserve a semblance of the curved standing posture, which is also seen on early Thai puppets. Several other retained aspects also relate strongly to Thai shadow puppets. For example, many of the figures hold an unsheathed sword or club parallel to their backs with the hand on the hip. The use of the Thai-style crown with a central finial is also typical of the Skeat puppets, as are the naga ground on which many puppets stand, the decorative yoke around the neck, and the single moveable arm. Many of these features relate to the Manora (Thai: Nuura) performance tradition, particularly the crown and the chest pieces.5 A small group of Malay shadow puppets from Kelantan, which were made for Ivor Evans of Clare College, arrived in the MAA in 1927 and reveal some stylistic evolution. These puppets are larger, with thinner hide, and in the case of the MAA examples, are more heavily painted than the Skeat ones. They are still crudely produced, but now appear to be early models of Thai shadow puppets, following them more closely in proportion and stance, and displaying many of the standardised features associated with the later high-status characters mentioned above. Clearly, Thai forms were significant in Malaysia during the late 19th and the early 20th century, and Thaistyle shadow puppets were in circulation in Malaysia from an early date, a result of the extensive regional interactions along the peninsula.6 The Javanese characteristics found on many mid to late 20th century demon puppets were not absorbed into the Malay tradition until a later date, even though Javanese-style puppets were present in Malaysia by the late 19th century, as exemplified by the three in the Skeat collection, which include the clown Semar, a demon, and a Panji-style figure with a rounded hairstyle. Despite their presence, they seem not to have had a visual impact on the Malaysian puppets, and indeed, Amin Sweeney noted Manora/Nuura was performed by Thai Buddhist actors, though was popular in Malaysia and was sponsored by the sultans of Kelantan. The courtly association may have promoted the reuse of Manora/Nuura imagery in shadow theatre. See Irving Chan Johnson, “Seductive Mediators: the Nuura Performer’s Ritual Persona as a Love Magician in Kelantanese Thai Society,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 30, 2 (1999): 286-309. 6 Murals in the Thai Wat Machimaram in Tumpat, Kelantan illustrate figures that display an aesthetic similar to that of Kelantanese wayang siam and Thai nang talung, indicating the importance of shadow theatre in the region and testifying to the sharing of concepts across media (Irving Chan Johnson, personal communication, August 2017). 5

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Figure 9. Female character. Hide, wood, pigment, and cotton. Made by Tok Awang Lah. Tumpat, Malaysia. Early to mid-20th century. H 62.7 cm. As1970,02.106. © Trustees of the British Museum

Figure 10. Male character. Hide, wood, pigment, and cotton. Made by Tok Awang Lah. Tumpat, Malaysia. Early to mid20th century. H 63.7 cm. As1970,02.90. © Trustees of the British Museum

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that Javanese ideas only started being seen in Malay shadow puppets from the 1920s.7 In comparing Tok Awang Lah’s shadow puppets in the British Museum with other collections, changes and continuities between the late 19th and the mid-20th century become clear, and codification of puppet forms is also visible. Clearly, the Malay tradition relates strongly to the Thai one, with a stylistic connection to Java only emerging in the 20th century.

Thailand The British Museum’s southern Thai shadow puppets tell a different story.8 There are two main shadow puppet traditions in Thailand: nang yai from the central region and nang talung, which originated in the south. As mentioned, there is only one nang yai puppet in the collection. The British Museum’s nang talung collection contains a group purchased in 1970 from the Thai puppeteer, Charoen, living in Kelantan, Malaysia, the purpose of which was to provide comparanda for the Malaysian shadow puppets. The remainder of the British Museum’s Thai holdings, like the MAA’s entire nang talung collection, was purchased new for the museum by Paritta Chalermpow in the late 1970s. These latter examples are highly similar in composition, quality of production, and appearance, and they provide a large body of material to compare with earlier examples, enabling a better understanding of iconographical and stylistic developments. The MAA collection has a preponderance of royal figures (14) and clowns (23), followed by high-status or fashionable male and female characters (11). There are also eight villagers, six animals, five ritual figures, five ogres, three military figures and bandits, one nun, and one deity. Thai shadow puppets in the British Museum are similarly grouped with fourteen royals, thirty-six clowns, fourteen high-status and fashionable generic characters, eight villagers, thirteen animals, eight ritual figures, eleven ogres and ghosts, five military/bandit characters, three monks and nuns, and one deity. This numeric comparison demonstrates that both collections are representative of the main Sweeney, Malay Shadow Puppets, 25. Javanese ideas arrived late in Malaysia or were adopted into shadow puppet design late, as such puppets are highly unusual in collections prior to the 1930s. While the Skeat collection has three Javanese-style puppets, they are originals or replicas, rather than Malay puppets incorporating Javanese imagery. On the performance side, Amin Sweeney notes the presence of the Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Panji stories in Malay shadow theatre, and the presence of the latter indicates connections with Indonesia (Sweeney, “The Rama Repertoire in the Kelantan Shadow Play,” 13-14). Pak Dain (Wayang Kulit, 68) lists stories besides the Ramayana that are performed, including the Pendawa Lima (the five Pandava brothers); probably a result of connections with Indonesia, the Mahabharata has been performed in Malaysia. Pak Dain also comments that female costumes in Malay shadow theatre relate to Malay and Thai designs, and show little Javanese influence (6-8). 8 Detailed information about the shadow theatre traditions can be found in Chalermpow’s dissertation, cited above, and in Paritta Chalermpow Koanantakool, “Traditional and Modern Styles in Southern Thai Shadow Puppet Theatre,” in Ernest E. Boesch, ed., Thai Culture: Report on the Second Thai-European Research Seminar 1982 (Saarbruecken: University of the Saar, 1983), 569-620. 7

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Figure 11. Figure of a king. Hide, bamboo, pigment, and cotton. Southern Thailand. 1970s. H 66.7 cm. As1970,02.159. © Trustees of the British Museum

Figure 12. Bandit character. Hide, bamboo, pigment, and cotton. Southern Thailand. 1970s. H 56 cm. As1977,19.27. © Trustees of the British Museum

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character groupings found in nang talung, and that each constitutes a full complement of puppets.9 The shape of these collections also reveals the importance of clowns and royal characters in southern Thai shadow theatre, with the latter enabling the main narrative thread and the former commenting on it, advising the heroes, interpreting the story for the audience, pointing out social and political issues, showing ambivalence to the dominant culture, emphasising local southern Thai identity, and bringing humour to the show.10 The puppets collected by Chalermpow present a standardised view of Thai shadow theatre in the 1960s and 1970s and, unsurprisingly, look like the puppet types described in her PhD thesis. Most puppets have a general identity and can be typecast. Thus, princes and heroes wear elaborate and traditionalstyle embroidered clothes, which sometimes mimic lakhon or likay Figure 13. Military general. Hide, bamboo, pigment, and cotton. Southern Thailand. 1970s. H 69 cm. As1977,19.32. © Trustees of the theatrical costumes, carry a sword British Museum held parallel to the back, and tie their hair in a topknot. Kings and queens wear tall crowns and traditionally stand upon nagas, although not in this example (Figure 11). Heroines usually have big curve lines, a fancy coiffure, and modest clothing that draws on traditional forms, while lower-status women can dress in a more modern and sexy manner. Males are generally portrayed in profile, while females’ faces are presented frontally, often in a cut-out manner. Trendy looking characters sporting sunglasses and contemporary fashionable clothing sometimes perform as a prince or hero, but more often they are bandits (Figure 12).11 Characters representing the military, police, or bureaucrats are dressed in clothes that 9

Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context, 179. Chalermpow writes that a complete set includes seven main character types: heroes, heroines, kings, queens, ogres, clowns, and supporting characters. 10 Ibid, 285-97. 11 Ibid, 180. There is ambivalence over whether this type of puppet can be the main hero of the story. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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clearly mark their roles in a stereotyped manner (Figure 13). Ghosts are frequently shown as skeletons, and ogres dress traditionally and carry a club upright against their backs while standing on one leg. Female ogresses follow the appearance of male ones, but often lack the club (Figure 14).12 Generally, body proportions are natural, with features indicating the moral status of the character. Ogres, for example, have thick eyebrows, coarse faces, and large teeth, while royals have slim, elegant appearances with almondshaped eyes, small mouths, and elegantly dressed hair. Holy men wear an ascetic’s hat, have beards, and carry a 14. Ogress. Hide, bamboo, pigment, and cotton. Southern Thailand. staff and fan, and the clowns, Figure 1970s. H 65.8 cm. As1977,19.35. © Trustees of the British Museum who are an important part of Southeast Asian shadow theatre generally, are almost entirely black with distorted forms that have animal and sexual connotations (Figures 15 and 16).13 Unlike the others, they represent specific characters and personalities and are not interchangeable. The fact that the clowns are named and important individuals indicates their major role in characterising shadow theatre as a cultural form that contributes to local identity.14 However, their appearances tie closely with other clown representations in Southeast Asia, particularly their black colouration and distorted physiques, features also seen on Pak Dogol and Wak Long in Malaysia and Semar and his sons in Java.15 In all three countries, the clowns Chalermpow notes that there are two types of female ogre, the city one and the forest one, which do not look similar. The city type resembles male ogres (personal communication, Paritta Chalermpow Koanantakool, February 2017). 13 Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context, 295. 14 Peter Vandergeest and Paritta Chalermpow-Koanantakool, “The Southern Thai Shadowplay Tradition in Historical Context, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 24, 2 (1993), 307-29. Paul Dowsey-Magog, “Popular Culture and Traditional Performance: Conflicts and Challenges in Contemporary Nang Talung,” in Wattana Sugunnasil, ed., Dynamic Diversity in Southern Thailand (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2005), 142-143. 15 Their role in Thai shadow theatre is also highly similar to the role of clowns in other Southeast Asian shadow puppet traditions. 12

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are treated as divine or semidivine, and the clown puppets are reverently cared for and honoured. Given the interconnections between the Southeast Asian shadow theatre traditions, this is unsurprising,16 and yet, it does more than emphasise how puppet forms and iconographies and methods of performance are related by also demonstrating that the fundamental spiritual purpose of shadow theatre is shared across the region. Other media have also had an impact on shadow puppet forms. Although nang talung is considered a southern Thai tradition, many of the puppet features discussed here connect with central Thai iconographic traditions,17 including the raised foot seen on ogres, the flying position of and the halos around deities, the dress and appearance of princes with their hand holding a sword against the back hip, ascetic headdresses, and so forth. Central Thai design elements, such as the kanok flame motif, are also prevalent.18 Many of these forms can be seen in Thai

Figure 15. Holy man (rishi). Hide, bamboo, pigment, and cotton. Southern Thailand. 1970s. H 58 cm. As1970,02.162. © Trustees of the British Museum

Fan Pen Chen, “Shadow theatres of the world,” Asian Folklore Studies 62 (2003), 35-37. There has also been some discussion of the relationship between shadow theatre and other performance traditions. See, for example, Prince Dhani Nivat, “The shadow-play as a possible origin of the masked-play,” in Prince Dhani Nivat, Collected Articles (Bangkok: Siam Society, 1969). Politically, the relationships between the southern and the central regions have been difficult, with the south strongly dominated by the central Thai polity since the late 18th century. While the first records of nang talung only appear in the mid-19th century, this may merely reflect the lack of interest in the art form by the central elite (Vandergeest and Koanantakul, 314). Today, southern shadow theatre is a strong identity marker. See Irving Johnson, “Little Bear Sells CDs and Ai Theng Drinks Coke: Sacred Clowning and the Politics of Regionalism in South Thailand,” Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia 21, 2 (2006): 148-77. 18 Irving Chan Johnson (personal communication, August 2017) pointed out that these trends are part of the centralisation of Thai culture and can be seen in other art forms as well. Some features can be found regionally, such as the ascetic’s headdress that is also represented in Burma. 16 17

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Figure 16. National artist and puppeteer Narong Changpum before a performance with his clowns, Theng and Nu Nuay, who have been honoured with gold leaf and offerings of money. Hide, bamboo, pigment, and cotton. Southern Thailand. 1970s. © Alexandra Green

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wall paintings and manuscripts from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries.19 For instance, the sword held against the back hip is the stance of protective deities painted on the interior windows and doorways of Thai temples, such as the Buddhaisawan Chapel in Bangkok, from at least the late 18th century, and the tall headdresses of ascetics can be seen in an early, smaller form in the Wat Yai Suwannaram wall paintings in Phetchaburi from the 17th or early 18th century and in mid-18th century manuscripts.20 Likewise, the flying position of deities with one leg raised and bent in front of the body and the other raised and bent behind is a typical manner of depicting deities en route to visit the Buddha’s hair relics in the Sulamani stupa, to hear Phra Malai preach in Tavatimsa Heaven, or to pay homage to the Buddha in manuscripts and wall paintings.21 The tall, pointed crown worn by royalty and deities likewise exist in a number of media. These forms have been remarkably long-lived, lasting into the 20th century in manuscripts and wall paintings and presenting a clear view of the extent to which the country was oriented towards central Thai visual norms. Interestingly, a group of puppets at the Deutsches Ledermuseum (German Leather Museum) in Offenbach, that are dated between 1830 and 1850, look as if they have been removed from central Thai wall paintings. The details of the clothing and faces, the gestures, and the colouration all resemble those of wall paintings. The construction of a tableau within a single puppet connects the examples with the central nang yai tradition, casting doubt on whether these examples originated in southern Thailand, demonstrating a greater amalgamation of traditions during the early 19th century than is now visible, or indicating that nang talung puppets were more varied than now seen in collections in Thailand. It may also be that nang talung started as a variant of nang yai. The use of some central Thai iconographic forms, even in the Skeat collection of Malaysian puppets that date to the mid to late 19th century, indicates the extent to which central Thai imagery penetrated the shadow theatre world of the peninsula. Chalermpow noted the stability of puppet representations generally over more than a century, writing that innovation primarily occurred in the details, such as hairstyles and decoration on clothing.22 Clown puppets made recently look remarkably similar to those of the 1970s, indicating the persistence of the characters over time, and, the red glasses on the British Museum’s general (seen in Figure 13) are still a popular feature of many military and bureaucratic characters. The similarities stretch back in time too. Puppets thought to be from the late 18th century in Nakhon Si Thammarat share central Thai features, including crowns, puppet postures, and so forth, with 20th century examples. Additionally, the protruding index finger that is often shaped like a phallus on 20th century clowns, can be seen in a less obtrusive and explicit form on Yahya also discusses the close relationships between theatrical forms and manuscript painting in Southeast Asia. Drawing on Boisselier, he notes that painting and theatre drew on the same artistic and iconographic conventions. Yahya, 164-75. 20 Henry Ginsburg, Thai Manuscript Painting (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 1989), 52-53, 67. 21 Ibid, 48-49. See, for example, Or 14068 at the British Library, which dates to the mid-18th century, and wall paintings, such as those at Wat Ko Kaew Suttharam in Phetchaburi that date to 1734. 22 Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context, 198. 19

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early ogres from the nang talung shadow puppet museum in Nakhon Si Thammarat.23 The exaggerated sway of female bodies and dandified male characters emerged in the early to mid-20th century. Before the Second World War, traditional clothing was slightly different, with women’s skirts in a bell-shape with upturned hems, as seen on some Malay shadow puppets, suggesting divergent sartorial trends in the 20th century. Puppets from the Second World War era are smaller than most puppets in use today.24 Unlike today’s shadow puppets, the hide on the early ones is opaque, a result of self-production versus the purchase of hide from mechanised, commercial tanneries.25 Looking at other 19th century collections, it is possible to corroborate Chalermpow’s contention of stability. Many of the characteristics discussed here are also seen on puppets dating to the 19th century in the Berlin Ethnography Museum, including on a royal demon and a prince. There is also a female with a cut-out face in three-quarters view, as well as a typical representation of a holy man complete with staff, ascetic’s hat, and beard, although unusually carrying a bag instead of a fan. Further examples comprise a chariot, a group of nagas, and a distorted human figure who has a large jaw and nose, rounded eye, and bald head. The carving indicating his clothing is not detailed and consists of large, open segments. A number of puppets are unfinished, lacking rods and pigmentation. Like examples at the Leather Museum, a few puppets are carved as tableaux, suggesting a mix of the southern Thai nang talung and central Thai nang yai puppet formats. Thai shadow puppets in the Ethnographic Museum in Leiden share even stronger resemblances with later puppets than the Berlin examples (Figure 17). There are holy men wearing an ascetic’s hat and carrying a staff and fan. Royals are in the usual pose standing on a naga with weapon and hand against the hip, although many are shown mid-stride, a feature that fell out of fashion in the 20th century. Tall, pointed crowns are the norm. Women are shown frontally or in three-quarters position, and breasts are shown uncovered, a feature that changes later. Ogres are not necessarily portrayed with one leg raised, and generally among all the puppets, there is a greater variety of stances than seen in the 20th century. They are labelled as dating from 1795 in the museum. There is a belief among some puppeteers of nang talung in Phetchaburi province, central Thailand, that southern Thai nang talung are smaller than the central Thai nang talung, but this is not necessarily the case. There are three main sizes of puppet in the south, and the medium sized one is the main one used in performance today. These generally correspond with the central Thai ones. I should clarify that I am not stating that all puppets are the same size. As Chalermpow notes in her dissertation, sizes vary within the same period and within the same set. There are also differences over time. As mentioned, puppets produced during the Second World War are quite small, and some of the puppets in the British Museum collection, although new, are of similar size. Super-sized examples were made for the Amazing Thailand tourism campaigns in the 1980s and 1990s (personal communication, Paritta Chalermpow Koanantakool, February 2017). 25 Chalermpow Koanantakool notes that the tanneries sliced the hide thinner, which resulted in the translucency. This type of hide became popular because it was cheaper and could be carved more easily than hide that was purchased and treated by the puppeteers themselves (personal communication, Paritta Chalermpow Koanantakool, February 2017). Food colouring and marker pens that do not obscure the light shining through the hide are used to colour it. 23 24

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Commoners are often shown in detail, but the clowns, although different from the ones in the collections of the British Museum and MAA, are still physically lumpy and lacking detail. They do not sport a phallic finger. Some of the buffalo puppets resemble the Skeat examples, with extended lumpy necks. Regardless of these differences, the puppets’ forms remain recognisable in comparison with 20th century examples.26 The shift in performance narratives away from the Ramayana in the late 19th or early 20th century in Thailand also had an impact on the appearance of shadow puppets. The new narratives no longer necessarily characterised the dangers of the world as Figure 17. Prince Rama. Hide, bamboo, and pigment. Nakhon Si demons, ghosts, and ogres, Thammarat, Thailand. 1880-1886. H 76.5 cm. RV 582-116. © Courtesy of but presented situations where the Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, The Netherlands contemporary experiences, such as drug problems, bureaucratic difficulties, and corruption, dominate. As a result, contemporary puppet types enabling the presentation of such stories have increased in number.27 Supernatural See Paritta Chalermpow Koanantakool, “Old Shadow Play Figures in the Rijksmuseum voor VolkenKunde, Leiden,” Muang Boran 19, 1 (1993): 77-87 [in Thai]. Two types of puppet that are represented in the Leiden collection, but not in later sets, are monkeys and elaborately dressed figures with disproportionately small or large heads that appear to be demons given their fierce faces. The disappearance of monkeys from puppet sets may be due to the fact that the Ramayana declined in popularity and also that the scene of the black and the white monkey ceased to be part of opening ritual performances (Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context, 141-42, 193, 202-5). 27 Stories continue to be moralistic. Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context, 208. See also, Paul Dowsey-Magog, “Demons with mobile phones: evolutionary discourse in Thai shadow puppetry,” Australian Drama Studies 25 (1994), 130-45. Stories relate to local life within the extant governmental and community systems. The government has occasionally used nang talung to present new ideas or to try and resolve problems. For instance, the national puppeteer Narong Changpum began his career in nang talung after being commissioned to travel around using shadow puppet theatre to explain birth control (personal communication, Puppeteer Narong, February 2016). 26

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features, such as the use of nagas as a support for royal and heroic characters, also lessened during the 20th century, and consequently, none of the puppets in either of these collections stands on one.28 Further differences between past and present are also observable in the presentation of shadow theatre in the south and the centre of Thailand; in the latter it exists in Phetchaburi, Ratchaburi, and a few other central regions.29 It is generally accepted that nang talung spread north during the mid-19th century in the reigns of King Rama IV and King Rama V respectively, although this has not been thoroughly researched, and it appears that the central Thai nang talung traditions maintain some features that are now no longer prevalent in the south. For instance, ritual features that used to be shown at the beginning of a performance, such as the fight between a white and a black monkey, are maintained in central Thailand but have been lost in the south.30 Likewise, monkey puppets are no longer part of the collections of southern puppeteers. Iconographic remnants can also be seen in central Thai puppets, including the use of royal figures supported by nagas and the bell-shape to women’s skirts. Like current Malay usage, there are two main clowns, in contrast to the numerous examples of southern Thailand.31 The Ramayana is still occasionally performed in the central region, but local folk tales are more likely to be the source of narratives. What is thus visible are the multiple arenas for change and continuity that provide information about how shadow theatres developed. The complexity of the southern Thai and northern Malaysian region, arising from its role in international trade, is known from approximately the 13th century.32 Current Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context, 177-205. See Nipatporn Pengkaew, “Phetchaburi’s Talung-Southern Talung,” Wittayasan 3 (Feb 1977), 46-47 (in Thai). Shadow theatre also exists in northeast Thailand, where it is called nang pramothai or nang baktue. See Bonnie Brereton, ‘Traditional Shadow Theatre of Northeastern Thailand’ (Nang Pramo Thai): Hardy Transplant or Endangered Species?” Aseanie 19 (2007): 113-142. Also, Suriya Smutkupt, Isan Shadow Play: Cultural Diffusion and Modification in Rural Villages, Northeast Thailand (Khon Kaen: Khon Kaen University, 2535 (1992), and Terry E. Miller and Jarernchai Chonpairot, “Shadow Puppet Theatre in Northeast Thailand,” Theatre Journal 31, 3 (1979): 293-311. 30 Chalermpow, A Popular Drama in its Social Context, 193. 31 In the past, there were numerous clowns in the Malay tradition, as can be seen in the Skeat collection, but this has been reduced to two (Pak Dogol and Wak Long) in the present. See Mubin Sheppard, “The Comic Characters in the Malay Shadow Play,” in Mohd. Taib Osman, ed., Traditional Drama and Music of Southeast Asia (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa Dan Pustaka, 1974), 30-34. Mubin Sheppard, “Pa’ Dogol and Wa’ Long: The Evolution of the Comedians in the Malay Shadow Play,” Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 38, 1 (1965), 1-5. The Thai clowns also continue to change, although many popular in the 1970s are still common today. 32 Anthony Reid, “Patani as a paradigm of pluralism,” in Patrick Jory, ed., Ghosts of the Past in Southern Thailand (Singapore: NUS Press, 2013), 3-30. Barbara Andaya discusses the strong significance of place in pre-19th century Pattani. Barbara Watson Andaya, “Gates, Elephants, Cannon, and Drums: Symbols and Sounds in the Creation of a Patani Identity,” in Patrick Jory, ed., Ghosts of the Past in Southern Thailand (Singapore: NUS Press, 2013), 31-52. Geoff Wade, “The Patani Region in Chinese Texts of the 6th to the 19th Centuries,” in Patrick Jory, ed., Ghosts of the Past in Southern Thailand (Singapore: NUS Press, 2013), 53-84. 28 29

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views of the region – of a hard-line Islam in Kelantan and southern Thailand, as well as the drive to establish Buddhism as the state religion in Thailand – reflect recent realities and obscure the plurality of the region in religion, economics, and ethnicity that has historically been the norm.33 The convoluted history of the region, extensive interactions over time, cultural and religious connections, lack of borders, and fluid construction of identities has unsurprisingly led to strong similarities in the shadow theatre traditions of the region. This is particularly exemplified by the puppets in the British Museum collection that were made by a Thai puppeteer living in Kelantan.34 The British Museum and MAA collections of Thai nang talung reflect a moment in the history of shadow theatre. In comparison with earlier collections, they demonstrate the remarkable continuity in certain Thai shadow puppet forms over the past 150 years. In contrast, the Malay puppets show greater changes in the same time period, yet they display a strong connection with the Thai tradition that has persisted through the transformations of the 20th century. Thus, what is visible in the shadow puppet forms are the remarkable networks of interconnecting ideas that fed, and continue to feed, the theatre traditions. These ideas maintain older concepts, absorb new features, and appear to morph narratively, yet remain stable in trying to present and comprehend the surrounding world.35

Southeast Asian shadow puppets in context The British Museum also holds Turkish, Chinese, Greek, and Indian shadow puppets and associated paraphernalia. The latter two collections comprise less than fifty puppets each, while the Turkish puppets number 398 and the Chinese 577. Most of these shadow puppets were acquired between 1965 and 1980, the same time period during which the Malaysian and Thai puppets arrived, although many of the Chinese puppets were purchased in 2000 by Brian Durrans, the curator for Asia and Europe and Asian Ethnography at the Museum of Mankind. Shelagh Weir, the curator responsible for the acquisition of the Turkish, Greek, Indian, Malaysian, and some of the Thai shadow puppets, stated that such acquisitions were usually opportunistic, rather than the result of strategic collection development.36 Yet, the fact that so many shadow puppets entered the British Museum in a relatively short period of time indicates a curatorial focus. In the case of the Southeast Asian collections, the fact that objects associated with shadow theatre, such as musical instruments, temporary stages, and See Michael J. Montesano and Patrick Jory, eds., “Introduction,” Thai South and Malay North: Ethnic Interactions on a Plural Peninsula (Singapore: NUS Press, 2008), 1-24. Anthony Reid, “A Plural Peninsula,” in Michael J. Montesano and Patrick Jory, eds., Thai South and Malay North: Ethnic Interactions on a Plural Peninsula (Singapore: NUS Press, 2008), 27-38. 34 See Irving Chan Johnson, “Paradise at Your Doorstep: International Border Fluidity and Cultural Construction Amongst Kelantan’s Thai Community,” in Wattan Sugunnasil, ed., Dynamic Diversity in Southern Thailand (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2005), 299-330. 35 This is accurate of shadow theatre globally, as there appear to be many points of intersection between the numerous traditions. See Fan Pen Chen, 47-48. 36 Personal communication, Shelagh Weir, April 2016. 33

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equipment used during performances, were not usually acquired, created an emphasis on the shadow puppets themselves and emphasised their role as art objects, unlike in the literature, where the focus is on performance. These collections thus function as representations of particular moments in time in the histories of this theatrical form, and their extensiveness makes them good records of stylistic and iconographic forms. However, the puppets have been little used at the museum, with few exhibitions or little space for them in the permanent galleries. For instance, Javanese and Malaysian shadow puppets were on display in the Museum of Mankind between 1970 and 1973, and a few Javanese puppets were included in the exhibition, The Golden Sword: Sir Stamford Raffles and the East, in 1997. Four to five puppets are rotated in the Treasures from the British Museum exhibition that is currently on tour. Other than two booklets, one on the Malay puppets by Amin Sweeney and the other on the Javanese examples,37 there have been no major publications on the subject. There was a small exhibition of some Turkish puppets in 2014, and the Greek, Chinese, and Indian examples have also occasionally been displayed. Rather than emphasising research or display, what is visible in the British Museum’s shadow puppet collections are efforts to acknowledge the existence of shadow theatre across a large portion of the world. It seems clear that such collections were added to make the British Museum’s holdings more representative of world cultures and human activity generally. This ties in with the museum’s stated goal of being a global institution that contains the civilisations of the world, representing the world to the world.38 While universal museums have been challenged over the colonial origins of their holdings, the collections have verified claims that culture “...has always been dynamic and hybrid, formed through contact and exchange with diverse peoples.”39 Encyclopaedic museums further enable cross-cultural explorations, as the varying shadow puppet collections at the British Museum demonstrate. However, there are also substantive gaps in the British Museum collections, and the collections do not get used equally. This stems from the 19th century concept of collections as raw data anticipating classification and transformation into knowledge,40 but the physical limits to gathering and storing universally comprehensive collections, as well as the dearth of curatorial time to investigate them, has made the universal museum in large part a repository of material moments available to researchers.41 The traditional universal Jeune Scott-Kemball, Javanese Shadow Puppets: The Raffles Collection in the British Museum (London: The British Museum, 1970). 38 See the website: https://blog.britishmuseum.org/2015/11/12/the-british-museum-a-museum-forthe-world/. See also, Sonya Lee, “Introduction: Ideas of Asia in the Museum,” Journal of the History of Collections, 28, 3 (2016), 359-66. 39 James Cuno, Museums Matter: In Praise of the Encyclopedic Museum (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 3. 40 Thomas Richards, The Imperial Archive: Knowledge and the Fantasy of Empire (London: Verso, 1993), 4. In the case of the British Museum, Richards noted that during the colonial period the institution increasingly devoted itself to storage, rather than interpretation (151). 41 Whether researchers can get access to objects depends on staff time. More collections are becoming available online, although this too depends on institutional culture and objectives, as well as the availability of resources to create a complete online record of collections. 37

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museum and imperial archive focused upon creating a record of a tradition’s historical progress, a concept upon which the art historical discipline was initially based, but the emphasis on gathering a body of material together in just a few tranches, rather than regular collection over time, adjusts acquisition to manageable proportions. The result is holdings that provide views of specific instances in traditions, rather than comprehensive, historical surveys,42 and as such need to be studied comparatively. This is the case with all the British Museum’s shadow puppet collections, which appear in displays periodically, but still await in-depth research. In conjunction with other collections of such material, however, they provide another piece in the puzzle of Southeast Asian shadow puppet development.

Acknowledgements The Museum Research Fund enabled me to travel to Southeast Asia to view performances and examine collections. Jane Portal, the Keeper of the Department of Asia, was very supportive throughout the project and provided me with further travel funding. Shelagh Weir and Nigel Barley both patiently answered my many questions about the collections. Nuchjaree Klongsungsorn, at the Royal Thai Embassy in London, was extremely helpful in providing contacts, including HRH Princess Mahachakri Sirindhorn, who, in turn, generously allowed me to visit her collection of nang talung puppets in Bangkok. I would also like to thank HRH Princess Mahachakri Sirindhorn’s staff members, who very hospitably showed me around the collection. Paritta Chalermpow Koanantakool graciously provided information, pictures of puppets in European museums that I was unable to access, and contacts, and Nipatporn Pengkaew generously shared her time and knowledge. Constantine Korsovitis gave me considerable assistance, and Paiboon Booranasanti was immensely kind in translating for me and ferrying me around Trang despite being in the middle of moving to another city. I am also indebted to Puppeteer Narong and his daughter Montathip Chanpum for their explanations, help and access to puppets, as well as Puppeteer Chainat Cherd for enabling me to look at his collections and view some performances. Jirawan Sangpetch helpfully drove me around and translated for me. In Malaysia, Mohammed Kamrulbahri bin Hussin and the Sanggar Budaya Geng Wak Long group kindly performed for me and provided information about Malaysian shadow theatre. I was also assisted by Pamela Yamaguchi and Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof at the Universiti Malaya. Thanks are also due to Irving Chan Johnson for his comments and suggestions. Rachel Hand at the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology in Cambridge generously spent two days helping me to examine the Skeat collections. Thanks are also due to Paul Bromberg and Chris Baker for their assistance with this paper. All errors are, of course, my own.

See Carol Duncan and Alan Wallach, “The Universal Survey Museum,” Art History 3, 4 (1980), 448-69. 42

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Connecting Tai, Kam and Li Peoples Through Weaving Techniques1 Christopher D. Buckley

Abstract—Textiles produced by Tai-Kadai peoples are widely admired and much studied, but to date there has been no comparative survey of weaving techniques. Looms and techniques are transmitted between generations in a conservative manner, and have the potential to reveal deep connections between different groups. In this article I present a survey of loom and patterning techniques, using a mapping approach, combined with comparative analysis similar to that used by linguists. The results trace Tai migration routes, and parallel the findings of linguists in many respects, with some significant differences. They also highlight the important contribution made by Tai-Kadai weavers to the development of the complex patterning systems (drawloom systems) that eventually found their way to the silk weaving industry in Europe.

Introduction This article presents a survey of the looms and patterning techniques used by Tai, Kam-Sui and Li weavers in south-western China and Southeast Asia. I compare their techniques, and investigate what light this can shed on connections between various groups. I will try to identify which aspects might be considered characteristic, and whether a unified weaving identity emerges from this. As I will show, there are important features shared by Tai and Kam traditions, consisting in part of loom designs, but more particularly of complex patterning systems, including some unique and influential innovations that trace aspects of their migration history. Li weavers on Hainan use a fundamentally different and much older loom versus the mainland groups, and there is little obvious connection, in terms of technique at least, with Tai and Kam weaving. To date, the only attempt to address Tai weaving culture as a whole is Gittinger and Lefferts’ study, Textiles and the Tai Experience (1992). Their work was largely based on fieldwork in Thailand and Laos, since information from other regions, particularly the diverse groups in China, was lacking at that time. Their approach was thematic, examining the roles of different types of textiles in Tai societies. In contrast, the question of weaving technique has received relatively little attention, despite its fundamental importance to the practitioners of weaving, and its potential (as I will show) to uncover aspects of shared history. 1

This article is based on a paper delivered to the 13th International Thai Studies Conference, Chiang Mai, 15-18 July 2017. All photographs, maps and drawings are by the author. Textiles are from the author’s collection. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Definitions of ‘ethnicity’ An individual or a group of people may be subject to multiple categorizations that relate to ethnicity, some given by outsiders (exonyms) and some by themselves (endonyms or autonyms). Academic writing tends to favour definitions based on language, expressed in the commonly used term ‘ethnolinguistic group’, and ethnicity and language are sometimes treated as synonymous. This assumption is questionable: for example, I regard myself as British and I speak English, but the first of these is not a language and the second defines no ethnic group. ‘Tai ethnicity’ ought, in principle, to be a multi-faceted notion, including language, but extending further to incorporate material and social culture. This approach was advocated by Terwiel (1978), but there has been little follow-up of his ideas, and in practice most working definitions of Tai groups, such as those listed at www.ethnologue.com, are based exclusively on linguistic work. The groups that I have surveyed are categorised by linguists as belonging to the Tai-Kadai (Kra-Dai) language family.2 The first comprehensive overview of their languages was attempted by Li (1977); since then, numerous linguists have contributed to studying this family. The prevailing view is of a Tai-Kadai family with three major linguistic branches: Tai, Kam-Sui and Hlai (Li), with the Tai branch further subdivided into Northern, Central and South-western branches (Figure 1). Most authors assume the existence of a proto-Tai language spoken in what is now southern China around 2000 years ago, with the bulk of Tai migration into Southeast Asia taking place after that date. This implies a relatively young language group; proto-Indo European (for example) is thought to have a time depth in excess of 5000 years. Looking further back in time, the existence of a proto Kra-Dai language is also implied by this grouping, although this putative ‘proto-language’ has not been systematically reconstructed. The greatest diversity of Tai languages, and their assumed region of origin,3 is found near the border between Vietnam and Guangxi province in China. Most Tai peoples are (or have been, in the recent past) wet-rice farmers by preference, occupying lowland areas and level land in valley floors, though some groups also engage in swidden farming in upland areas. Their expansion seems to be linked with the development of intensive wet-rice agriculture (Guedes 2011; Luo et al. 2000), which enabled suitable land to be farmed more intensively and with more likelihood of agricultural surplus than was previously possible. To the east of their homeland they found themselves in competition with Sinitic peoples with similar preferences, limiting the possibilities for expansion, but to the west they found no such barriers, and consequently more opportunities for founding new settlements. The process of Tai expansion seems to have proceeded via a mixture of migration coupled with assimilation. The labour-intensive work of farming rice paddy, coupled with the promise of agricultural surplus, seems to have driven the partial assimilation of many existing groups that the expanding Tai encountered. 2

In addition to the groups that I have surveyed, the Tai-Kadai linguistic grouping includes Kra and Be speakers amongst others. These groups are now restricted to a relatively small number of speakers. From what little is known of their weaving-related cultures they seem to resemble their geographic neighbours and retain little of their (presumed) original weaving traditions. 3 But see Holm 2010. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 1. Map showing the distribution of Kam-Sui, Hlai and Tai language speakers.

There is a substantial literature that attempts to link present-day distributions of languages with historical records of Tai migrations, particularly Chinese sources and Tai legends, and also with archaeological findings. Linking language and ethnicity with ancient texts is challenging, however: early Chinese writing (the source of most of the information about the earliest periods) provides useful data on military manoeuvres and government in border regions, but is notoriously imprecise as regards the ethnicity of ‘barbarian’ tribes (Man, Yi, Lao, etc.) that the emerging Han state encountered, since Chinese bureaucrats and military officers had little interest in such distinctions. Baker (2002), Evans (2016) and Chamberlain (2016) provide good reviews of this area. From the standpoint of both weaving and language, the basic ‘cultural unit’ differs in type and scale according to region, but in rural areas it is usually a group of villages sharing the same dialect and customs, within which members tend to intermarry. Ideally, we would like to study culture at this level of detail, but it is unfeasible to study the Tai peoples in their entirety in such detail. For my purposes, I will take a pragmatic approach, using the data that is available, together with Ethnologue definitions of linguistic groups, which define broader groupings, as a starting point. However, I will not assume the relationships that the Ethnologue hierarchical classification implies. This allows me to build an ‘alternative’ picture of the relationships between Tai peoples, based on technique and textile forms, which I will briefly compare with the linguistic picture at the end of this article. ‘Textile culture’ includes a broad range of things and activities that are of potential interest to a researcher. To explain my choices for this survey I will first introduce a Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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classification scheme for material culture. This places phenomena along an axis that runs from ‘Tradition’ to ‘Fashion’ (Figure 2). The ‘Tradition’ end of the axis is defined as things that are passed mainly from an older generation to a younger one (‘vertical’ transmission). These aspects are conservative and tend to change slowly over time, and they are often strongly linked to ethnic identity. The other end of the scale is defined as ‘Fashion’, in opposition to ‘Tradition’. It consists of things that are learned mainly from peers or from media (‘horizontal’ transmission). Fashion is, by definition, ephemeral, related to personal expression, enjoyment, and other kinds of identity such as peer group and gender. This is, of course, not the only way that one might classify cultural ‘things’, but it is useful for this discussion.

Figure 2. Classification of cultural phenomena along an axis running from ‘Tradition’ to ‘Fashion’

Real cultural phenomena are neither pure ‘Tradition’ nor pure ‘Fashion’ in nature, but embody aspects of both in varying proportions, represented by their position on the axis. Clothing worn by professional office workers, for example, may embody traditional elements, but are also subject to changes in fashion, albeit more slowly than (for example) clothing worn for leisure at the weekend. Ceremonial textiles marking important life events tend to be more conservative, as do textiles such as bedcoverings that are for use inside the household. Indigenous weaving techniques and looms are amongst the most conservative of all aspects of material culture, positioned closest to the ‘Tradition’ end of the scale. Novice weavers learning technique generally learn from an older relative (usually mother or grandmother). They are expected to follow traditional practices closely and they are not expected to alter them (Boudot and Buckley 2015). This is, in part, related to the difficulty and complexity of weaving on a loom. My choice of loom design and technique is related to this conservative aspect. Loom designs are subject to the slowest rates of change (relative to other aspects), and therefore are more likely to reveal deeper connections between peoples. I will use this data in a similar way that linguists use cognate forms: identifying shared, innovative features (homologies) that shed light on group ancestry, and distinguishing these from borrowings Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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and chance resemblances.4 There is some evidence that the most conservative aspects of loom technology may have greater time-depth and less susceptibility to acculturation than basic vocabulary. For example, the Maonan of Guangxi and Guizhou provinces (Kam-Sui speakers) have a great deal of borrowed vocabulary from Han Chinese, but retain a distinctive loom that is not used by their Han, Miao and Yao neighbours. Another line of evidence is the very wide diversity in looms used by different peoples worldwide: apparently similar problems have been solved with radically different technologies that have remained distinct, despite migration and extensive contacts between peoples. I will also consider a few selected types of textiles, particularly multi-panel bedcoverings decorated with supplementary weft, that embody conservative styles that may also reveal links between Tai groups (Howard and Howard 2002: 100), but I will leave a detailed consideration of textile forms for a subsequent study.

Data sources To map and characterise looms I have used recent fieldwork that I have carried out in Vietnam, Laos and Thailand, together with primary studies on technique by Boudot and Buckley (2015), Li et al. (2011, 2013), Long (2011, 2012) and McClintock (2013). I have supplemented these with general works on textile culture that provide illustrations of looms, including publications by Cheesman (2004), Conway (1992, 2002), Howard and Howard (2002) and McIntosh (2009). For mapping the distributions of looms, I have also made use of unconventional sources, including newspaper reports and online travel blogs. These are usually not detailed enough to characterise a loom, but they are often good enough to allow the mapping of the distributions of types already identified. Coverage is reasonably good in Guizhou, Guangxi (due largely to fieldwork carried out by Eric Boudot), and in Hainan, North Vietnam, Laos and North Thailand, but is patchy in Yunnan, Myanmar and Assam, where I have not been able to do fieldwork (to date), but have relied mainly on the published sources.

Types of loom used by Tai weavers Woven textiles are made of two components—warp and weft—interlaced at a right angle. A loom is essentially a device for arranging and tensioning warp yarns, and for facilitating the raising of groups of warps so that wefts can be inserted. Basic loom setups allow the lifting of one group of warps then the opposite group (called shed and counter-shed) alternately, so that plain-weave (tabby) can be made. Various aids may be added to this basic setup to facilitate the lifting of more complex sequences of warps, in order to make patterned textiles, or to make the weaving process faster or more convenient. I will look at the loom types first, then move on to consider patterning methods. 4

The analysis I present here is based purely on the structural and functional aspects of weaving tools, not on their names. The comparison of the names used for weaving tools may also give useful insights, but this is a different question and a project for another day. My (incomplete) table of the names of loom parts is available on request, and I would be happy to assist linguists and others who are interested in extending and improving it. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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There are five major types of loom (Figure 3) used by Tai weavers, which have distinct geographical distributions (Figure 4). These loom types delineate four major regions with distinct weaving traditions (Figure 5). The loom types are as follows: 1. Frameless, foot-braced body-tensioned loom This loom is used by Li people (Hlai speakers), on Hainan (Figure 6). The basic loom is extremely simple, consisting of a warp beam braced behind the feet, a cloth beam secured at the weaver’s waist with a backstrap, a rod that retains the natural shed (shed stick), and a heddle for opening the counter-shed. To this setup a coil rod is usually added: this is a rod that the warps turn around and are tightly bound to, which helps keep the warps in their proper order. Both the warp and the fabric that is woven from it are in the form of a tube (‘circular warp’), the warp being moved around the warp beam and cloth beam as the weaving progresses, and then cut when the finished piece is taken off the loom, to make a flat piece of fabric. The weaver may wind several turns of the warp and finished cloth on the cloth beam, which allows a longer cloth to be woven (so that the length of cloth is not limited to the distance between the weaver’s waist and feet). The weft is beaten in place with a wooden ‘sword’, a multipurpose implement that facilitates opening sheds in the warp, as well as the beating-in of weft. Similar foot-braced looms are used by a few isolated groups, including Austronesian speakers on Taiwan, and Austroasiatic speakers (such as Katu and Maa speakers) in southern Laos/Vietnam. The Austroasiatic looms are closest to the Hainan variety, whereas the Taiwan looms show some innovative features in warp beam design not found elsewhere. This loom is also attested in the archaeological record from the late Neolithic period in south-east China, and from the Iron-age Dian culture at Shizhaishan in present-day Yunnan. Given the wide geographic spread, and its usage by three (possibly four) major language families, we can assume that this loom was once widespread in the southern part of East Asia. What we see today are remnants of this distribution, the origins of which probably predate the emergence of most of the major language families mentioned. 2. Half-frame, body-tensioned looms These looms have a frame that holds the warp beam, but not the cloth beam. The weaver sits on a raised seat, with the cloth beam attached to her waist with a backstrap (as with the frameless loom). Instead of being circular, the warp is ‘flat’, meaning that it is wound onto the warp beam as a flat sheet, and unwound as the weaving progresses, the finished cloth being wound onto the cloth beam. This allows a long piece of cloth to be woven, around ten to twenty metres being the norm. Most half-frame looms also incorporate two other technical advances: a reed, which serves to space warp yarns and keep them in order, and a system for raising one or more heddles using the feet,5 which frees the weaver’s hands for weft insertion. There are two major types of half-frame loom in East Asia. They are not unique to Tai weavers, but they have distinct geographical distributions amongst Tai peoples: Heddles are sometimes called ‘shafts’ in weaving literature. I reserve the term ‘shaft’ for a heddle that is attached to a treadle in a manner similar to a European frame loom.

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Simple, foot-braced body-tensioned

Half frame, long Y-rocker heddle (drawing of paddle-shaped warp beam to the right of the loom)

Half frame, short rocker heddle

Full frame, cantilever

Full frame, cuboidal

Figure 3. Major loom types used by Tai-Kadai weavers

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Figure 4. Distribution of loom types and patterning systems amongst Tai-Kadai weavers

Figure 5. Major Tai-Kadai weaving zones, defined by the oldest loom present in each region

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Figure 6. Simple foot-braced, body tensioned loom used by Li weavers on Hainan

Long Y-rocker-heddle loom This half-frame loom has two distinctive features. The first is a long rocker above the warp (usually Y-shaped or V-shaped), to which the ground-weave heddle is attached, which connects (via the back of the loom) with a cord around the weaver’s foot. The second is a large paddle-shaped warp beam, which is lodged at the back of the loom. The warp beam is removable, so that the weaver can remove her work at the end of the day and roll it up (Figure 7). The earliest evidence for this loom comes from wooden parts found in a tomb in Jiangxi province, dating from the Eastern Zhou dynasty (771-220 BCE), that are on display in the provincial museum. It seems to have been a common domestic loom during the Han dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE), judging from tomb remains and engravings, including finds in Guangxi province in south-western China (Boudot and Buckley 2016). Archaeological remains of this loom have generally been misidentified, since the practice seems to have been to inter the loom owner (presumably female) with the removable parts of the loom (only). These parts are easily mistaken for the components for a simple, frameless loom, particularly if they are crudely made facsimiles, which is often the case with burial goods of this period. However, the distinctive, warp beam with its large ‘paddles’ (not found in the archaeological remains of simple looms) is a diagnostic characteristic. The long-rocker loom seems to be an evolution from the frameless loom, since it retains many of its features, including a natural shed opening that is held open with a shed stick or tube inserted in the warp. It has a very wide distribution in Asia, consistent with it being one of the oldest types. It is found from Assam in the west, where it is used by Tai Phake weavers, to Japan and Hokkaido in the east, where variants are used by Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Ainu and Japanese weavers (jibata loom). It is also used by Tai, Hmong-Mien, Sinitic (Han) and Korean speaking weavers, and it is often associated with the weaving of bast fibres (hemp and ramie).

Figure 7. Examples of half-frame, long Y-rocker heddle looms used by Kam (Dong) weavers in the Tongdao area of Hunan province (left) and Maonan weavers in Guizhou (right). Both looms have drawloom pattern heddles of the C2 type, which are also attached to long rockers, worked by cords at the weaver’s feet or treadles.

Amongst Tai weavers this loom is used by Kam weavers in Hunan, and by northern Zhuang, Maonan weavers in Guangxi, Tai Nua, Tai Ya, and Tai Hongjin weavers in Yunnan, as well as the Phake, as mentioned. Some of the Yunnan variants have simplified frames that have lost the horizontal component, a trait commonly seen in looms in upland regions. It seems to have been formerly used by Mulao weavers in Guangxi, though, to date, I have not been able to find this loom (it may be extinct). Where it is used by Tai-Kadai peoples, it is usually associated with the use of a complex patterning system of a circular type (discussed below), attached to a second long rocker, used for making cloth with supplementary weft patterning, particularly for decorated bedcovers. Its present day distribution amongst the groups mentioned is patchy, and in most areas in which it occurs it has been partly replaced by full-frame looms of more advanced design. Kam weavers, for example, use the long-rocker heddle loom with a patterning system for weaving traditional bedcovers and baby-carrier cloths with supplementary weft decoration, but for weaving plain fabric they use a full-frame loom of the cantilever type. As far as I know, the half-frame loom is not used by Sui speakers in Guizhou, who use a full-frame loom of the cantilever type for weaving plain tabby cloth. The distribution of this loom defines the ‘Northern’ group of Tai-Kadai weaving traditions. This is not the same as the Northern group of Tai languages, since it includes Kam, Maonan and Mulam weaving traditions, as well as Tai Ya, Tai Hongjin and Tai Nua speakers in Yunnan, who are grouped with the South-western Tai languages by linguists. Short rocker-heddle loom This is also a half-frame loom, but of a different design (Figure 8). Instead of a tube in the warp, the natural shed is held open by rods fixed in the loom frame. The single Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 8. Short rocker heddle loom, used by some Nung weavers in northwestern Vietnam

heddle is raised by a cord attached to a transverse treadle. The heddle raising mechanism incorporates a second bar placed on top of the warp that is pulled down as the countershed is opened, facilitating the opening of a wide counter-shed. A reed is also present; this may hang loose in the warp, or it may be suspended from a pair of lightweight curved spars above the warp. This loom is used by a few Nung and southern-Zhuang speaking groups distributed on a north-south axis along the Vietnam – Guangxi border, but not (as far as I am aware) by Nung living further west in the Lao Cai area, who use a full-frame loom.6 In most cases, the loom is used for making plain fabric, or stripes and checks, but in the Longzhou area of Guangxi province, it is used with a huaben (complex patterning system) to make bedcovers decorated with complex supplementary weft. As with the long rocker-heddle loom, this loom seems to be in the process of being replaced by full-frame looms of the cantilever type, and what we see today probably represents the remnants of a wider distribution in former times. The distribution of this loom defines my Central group of Tai weaving traditions. This corresponds roughly, but not exactly, with the Central Group of Tai speakers. Variants of this loom are also used by Sinitic (Tujia) weavers and by Han weavers in rural areas, mainly in central and southern China. It seems to be related to a loom 6

James Chamberlain has pointed out that the Nung are in fact a heterogenous group. The Western Nung, who refer to themselves as the Nung Cheuang, arrived after the Nong Zhigao rebellion and differ from other Nung in the border region. At present there is not enough detailed information on Nung loom styles to attempt a comparison with their known history and linguistic subgroups: this would make an interesting topic for future study. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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that was also in common use in a domestic context in the Han dynasty, based on tomb engravings (Boudot and Buckley 2015), and has a history of at least 2000 years. In addition to these types, an unusual half-frame loom is used by Buyi weavers in the Libo area in Guizhou. This is a loom with a cantilever frame, with a pair of linked, clasped heddles (Figure 9). It seems to be a forerunner of full-frame looms with the same basic shape and shed opening arrangement, which are now widespread in China. Based on similarities in textiles, this loom may have been used by other Buyi groups in the same region, to the south of Qiannan.

Figure 9. Schematic drawing of half-frame loom used by Buyi weavers in the Libo area, Guizhou province.

3. Full-frame looms These looms have both cloth beam and warp beam fixed into the frame (in other words, they are not body-tensioned). The development of this type of loom seems to have been linked to the development of paired clasped heddles,7 linked to treadles (the complete assembly being called a ‘shaft’), for opening plain tabby weave sheds (Figures 3 and 9). The shed opening arrangements used for most body-tensioned looms rely on the weaver being able to adjust the tension in the warp with her own body to facilitate switching between sheds. Paired clasped heddles eliminate this requirement, by allowing the weaver to pull a warp both up and down with a single heddle. These heddles are usually, but not always, found as a linked pair, pulling in opposite directions. This invention proved so successful that it is now the basic shed opening device on most frame looms used worldwide. Because it is so widespread, its origin is difficult to pinpoint, although East Asia seems to have been important in its development, indicated In previous publications, I have called this a ‘bidirectional’ heddle. I am using the term ‘clasped’ heddle here, based on input from practising weavers.

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by the number of rare variants that are found in the region, of which the Buyi loom mentioned above is one example. There are two kinds of full-frame looms used by Tai weavers: 4. Cantilever loom In China and north-eastern Vietnam, the characteristic loom (Figure 10) uses a cantilever to support the heddles (and, in many cases, the reed too). This loom is used by most Tai-Kadai groups in China, Tay north-eastern Vietnam as well as some HmongMien and Sinitic weavers. It seems to be in the process of gradually replacing older, half-frame designs.

Figure 10. Full-frame, cantilever looms used by Buyi weavers in the Wangmo area of Guizhou province (above) and Tay weavers in central northern Vietnam (below). The Tay loom also has a drawloom pattern heddle attached to a long rocker.

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5. Cuboidal frame loom In the west (north-western Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, Myanmar), a cuboidal frame loom (Figure 11), with the end of the warp held tied in a loose knot to a beam over the weaver’s head, is used by Tai weavers across a broad region. This loom seems to be a distinctively Tai technology, rarely used by other ethnicities, and was probably developed by the Tai themselves. To the south, Khmer and Malay weavers use a loom with a similar overall shape (that they may have acquired from the Tai), but with a different warp fixing arrangement.

Figure 11. Full-frame loom, cuboidal type. Above: drawing of a loom used by a Tai Lao weaver in Vientiane, set up to weave a supplementary weft skirt hem, using a series of individual pattern heddles suspended above the warp. Below: a weaver in the Quan Son district of northern Vietnam, using a similar loom with a V-shaped pattern system.

The distribution of the cuboidal frame loom defines a Western group of Tai looms and weaving traditions. In most areas this group of weaving traditions corresponds with speakers of South-western Tai languages, although as mentioned it excludes some Tai in Yunnan, who use the older half-frame loom. The sharp dividing line between cuboidal and cantilever types, which mirrors linguistic divisions, is intriguing. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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In addition to these five widespread types, there are two more rare types of fullframe loom (Figure 12). One is a loom of unique design used by a few Kam-speaking weavers in Guizhou, in the Zhaoxing area. Despite their language affiliations, these weavers regard themselves as Miao and are officially classified within China as Miao (Hmong-Mien). Their loom seems to be related to an ancient type that appears in Han dynasty tomb engravings, but is otherwise unknown today. The other is a loom that is apparently used by both Tai and Muong weavers in the Mai Chau district of Vietnam, near the border with Laos, for weaving narrow warp-patterned bands. There are several versions of this loom, most of which have a cuboidal frame, with a single heddle attached to a treadle, for opening the counter-shed, and a shed stick retaining the natural shed.8 The loom is otherwise similar to cuboidal frame looms used elsewhere in the Western region.

Figure 12. Rare types of full-frame loom used by Tai-Kadai weavers. Left: loom used by ‘Miao’ weavers speaking a Kam dialect in the Zhaoxing area of Guizhou province. Right: loom used by Tai weavers in the Mai Chau region of northern Vietnam, for weaving warp-patterned skirt waistbands.

Although the precise chronology of these looms is not known, there are clear patterns in their development, which seem to have proceeded down a number of branching pathways. This is apparent “by inspection”, and has also been demonstrated by a phylogenetic analysis and comparison with the archaeological record (Boudot and Buckley 2015; Buckley and Boudot 2017). The frameless looms are the earliest type. The half-frame looms represent a later line of development, probably beginning around 3000 years before present (given that they appear in well-developed form during the Eastern Zhou period). The full-frame versions probably made their appearance sometime before the Han dynasty, more than 2000 years ago.9 Importantly, more sophisticated forms 8

Some versions of this loom have a single clasped heddle attached to a treadle, instead of a shed stick in the warp. 9 A full frame loom of relatively advanced design was recently discovered in a Han dynasty tomb at Tumen, near Chengdu, providing evidence that looms of this type were already a mature Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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have only partially replaced earlier types, and all of these forms continue to be used to the present day.

Patterning systems Patterned textiles can be made on a loom by raising groups of warps to make a more complex interlace. If the warps are of contrasting colours this is called ‘warp patterning’, if the wefts are of varied colours the result is called ‘weft patterning’, but in each case the basic task (raising warps and inserting wefts) is the same. This can be done by selecting warps by hand, using a pointed stick or a hook, and this is often the way patterning is added, but if the same sets of warps are to be raised repeatedly, weavers use a variety of labour-saving inventions to ‘record’ the warp lifts and reduce the effort involved, as well as the possibility of mistakes. Some of these inventions, particularly the most complex, are uniquely associated with Tai weaving, and with particular regions and sub-groups of Tai. In order of increasing complexity, the pattern-saving methods that are used by Tai weavers are: 1. Sticks inserted in the warp A single stick inserted into the warp can isolate a group of warps, and the weaver can bring it into play by pulling the stick upwards and inserting a sword or flat stick to widen the shed. A group of such sticks can record an entire pattern. The usefulness of this method is limited, however, by the need to remove each stick completely before the next stick in sequence can be used, so that the saved information can only be used one time. Nevertheless, this method is commonly used to make mirror-symmetrical patterns: the first half of the pattern is picked out by hand, and a stick inserted behind the working area for each warp lift; the sticks can then be used and removed in the reverse sequence to make the second half of the design. This method is widely used in the Western region, but is not used (as far as I am aware) in the Northern or Central regions. 2. Simple pattern heddles A group of heddles10 (consisting of leashes gathered in a bunch or supported on a rod, also called a ‘harness’) can be used to record the warp lifts for a pattern. Such heddles are usually kept in a group behind the ground weave heddle and shed stick, and are selected and pulled up by hand when the weaver needs them. They can be used as many times as they are needed, and in any order. This system is used by the Li of Hainan, Zhuang in the Jingxi area of southern Guangxi (though it is uncommon in the rest of the Northern region), and Tai Daeng and other Tai groups near the Lao-Vietnam border, where they are used for making skirt borders decorated with supplementary weft. They are also used in for making warp patterned bands. There are limits to the number of individual heddles that can be employed, however, because of the space they technology by the Han period. 10 I use the term ‘leash’ to denote a single cord attached to a warp, and ‘heddle’ to denote a group of leashes that are lifted together, usually attached to a rod. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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take up on the loom and difficulties with handling a large set. Groups of 10-30 pattern heddles are common, but it is rare to find more than this. Figure 13. Drawloom pattern heddles (pattern harnesses) used by Maonan and Zhuang weavers (C2 type, left) and by Tai weavers in Laos and northern Thailand (VB type, right). These systems consist of tens or hundreds of pattern sticks controlling heddle cords. In these diagrams one active cord (red) and one passive cord (black) is shown. In each case, a pattern stick is pulled forward in sequence to position A, pulling the ‘active’ heddle cords forward with it, raising the corresponding warp (also shown in red). With the shed still open, the pattern stick is removed from A and replaced at B, pattern weft(s) are inserted in the warp opening, then the next stick in sequence is employed similarly.

3. Complex pattern heddles (huaben or drawloom systems) In these systems, instead of recording warp lifts with multiple heddles, the lifts are recorded on sticks (or cords) embedded in a single, complex heddle, also called a ‘pattern harness’ (Figure 13). This is similar to the terms used by most Tai weavers for these systems, which translate as ‘pattern heddle’ or ‘flower heddle’, the qualifier ‘pattern/flower’ being used to distinguish them from the ordinary type of heddle (usually called khaw or a variation on this term) used for the ground-weave. The weaver uses each pattern stick in turn, pulling it towards herself to separate a group of ‘active’ leashes that will raise a group of warps. She inserts a flat blade (resembling the ‘sword’ used on simpler looms) into the warp opening and twists it through ninety degrees to make a wider shed (Figure 14). With the shed still open, she removes the stick that she has pulled forward and replaces it in a complimentary opening that is created in the heddle by the action of pulling the active group forward. This preserves the pattern so that it can be used as many times as she needs. A loom with multiple sticks or cords that encode warp-lifts, located in single pattern harness, is called a ‘drawloom’.11 This term is usually applied only to very large and complex looms, but for consistency it should be applied to any loom that uses this system. These pattern harnesses are a permanent record of the design that they encode, and they can be stored separately and mounted on a loom when needed, and swapped between The term ‘drawloom’ is used inconsistently in weaving literature. Some writers use this term to mean any large and complicated-looking loom, including looms with patterns recorded on multiple shafts (heddles). Such looms are not drawlooms, according to my definition.

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Figure 14. Weaver in the Ky Son area, northern Vietnam, using a VB type drawloom heddle to make a skirt cloth patterned with supplementary weft designs.

looms. I call these systems ‘drawlooms’, a usage that is unfamiliar in the context of rural Tai looms, in order to highlight the fundamental similarity between these looms and more complex commercial drawloom looms. In contrast to multi-harness systems, the number of warp lifts (sticks) that can be inserted in a single complex pattern harness is virtually unlimited. Weavers in domestic settings use patterns with a dozen up to a few hundred sticks, but commercial workshops may employ thousands of sticks or cords.

Types of drawloom pattern heddles There are several distinct types of drawloom pattern heddle used by Tai weavers (Figure 15). A type used by Buyi, Maonan, Kam and Zhuang weavers in China (Figure 7) and some Tay weavers in north-eastern Vietnam has circular (strictly speaking, cylindrical) form, in which all the pattern sticks are arranged in continuous circular cords that sit above the warp. As each stick is pulled forward by the weaver to create an opening in the warp at the front of the loom, a corresponding opening (countershed) is created at the back of the loom, into which the stick is reinserted after use. The Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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heddle is then rotated and the next pattern stick in sequence is pulled forward. This type of pattern heddle can be rotated continuously in one direction to make a repeating design. In practice, however, only Maonan (and presumably Mulam weavers, based on the similarity of their textiles) use the pattern heddle this way. Other groups reverse the direction of the heddle after using the full set of sticks, producing a design with an axis of reflection symmetry along the weft direction.

Figure 15. Classification of drawloom pattern heddles used by Tai weavers. In these diagrams the cloth beam and weaver (not shown) are situated on the right hand side.

In the simplest type of pattern harness, used by Buyi people, the pattern sticks are supported in a loose bunch by a couple of cords (C1 system).12 In more sophisticated designs the pattern sticks are held in a loop around a cylinder (C2 system, used by Maonan, Kam, southern Zhuang, north-eastern Tay). In most of the C2 systems, the pattern harness is attached to a long rocker, worked by a cord loop around the weaver’s foot. This makes it easier to manipulate, since the weaver can alter the tension in the heddle cords to facilitate opening and closing pattern sheds. As noted, Zhuang weavers in the Longzhou area near to the Guangxi-Vietnam border also use this system on a short-rocker heddle loom, with the pattern heddle suspended from a roof beam or other ad-hoc arrangement (no rocker or treadle linkage). A modified version of this system (C3) is used by Tay weavers in north-central Vietnam (Figure 10), and by Tai weavers in the Mai Chau (Figure 16, also described by McClintock 2013) and western Nghe An province in Vietnam. This system resembles C2, except that the heddle has a central rod at the top and cannot rotate, obliging the weaver to employ it in ‘reversing’ fashion. All of the patterning systems described so far, up to and including the Tay systems, 12

I introduce the terms C1, C2, etc. for convenience in distinguishing these patterning systems. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 16. Weaver in the Mai Chau area, using a modified circular drawloom heddle (C3 type). Instead of using the warp lifts from the heddle directly, Mai Chau weavers use them to insert a set of pattern sticks in the warp (visible below the heddle system). The weaver then sits back down by the cloth beam and uses the sticks in the warp to insert wefts, removing each stick as she does so.

are located in front of the ground-weave shafts, close to the weaver. The Mai Chau version, which has been adapted to a full-frame loom of cuboidal shape is different in that the heddle is fixed to an immobile bar at the back of a cuboidal frame loom (rather than on a long rocker, which would be difficult to operate in a loom with this type of frame). Instead of using the warp lifts directly, the weaver leaves her seat and uses the pattern system to add sticks to the warp, marking the pattern sheds. She then returns to her seat and uses the pattern sticks in the warp to weave one half of the design, repeating the process in reverse for the second (symmetrical) half. This rather cumbersome procedure highlights the challenges weavers seem to have faced in adapting a circular pattern system developed on a half-frame loom to a cuboidal, full-frame loom. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 17 V-shaped patterning system, in-use on a loom near Quan Son, north Vietnam

V-shaped patterning system A further interesting and significant form (V) is used by a small number of Tai weavers in the Quan Son area, near the border with Laos (Figures 11, 15 and 17). This system, which has not previously been published as far as I am aware, has pattern sticks held in cords that form a ‘V’ shape above the warp. The pattern heddle is located behind the ground-weave shafts (i.e. furthest from the weaver), like the Mai Chau system. The weaver uses all the sticks from one side of the V, removing them and replacing them in the other side of the V as she does so, then reversing direction when she has used the full set. With the patterning heddle divided into two halves in this way, it is a relatively short step from this system to the VB form, described next. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 18. Tai Dam weaver, Dien Bien Phu district, northern Vietam, displaying a cotton quilt with a cover made of two panels of continuous supplementary weft.

The VB patterning system The best-known Tai patterning system, reproduced in many publications on weaving and used by Tai in the Lao-Vietnam border region, as well as by Lao-Tai, Lu, Phu Tai weavers, and commercial workshops in Vientiane, Luang Prabang (Laos) and Surin (Thailand), is the ‘Venetian Blind’ (VB) system (Figure 14). In a VB system, there are two heddle loops for each warp, one above the warp and one below the warp. They are linked together at the warp, each warp passing through the ‘eye’ where the two halves are joined (in other words, this is a type of ‘clasped’ heddle). To use this system, the weaver pulls a stick or cord forward, opening a pattern shed. After using the opened shed she removes the stick and replaces it in the corresponding heddle cord on the other side of the warp, reversing this process when she has used all the sticks. In most cases, the VB system occurs on looms equipped with a pair of clasped groundweave heddles. The VB system uses the same warp-attachment arrangement as the ground-weave heddles, which is surely not coincidental. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 19. Bedcover made by a Maonan weaver in Guangxi province. Silk supplementary weft on a cotton warp and weft ground.

In all of the looms with VB pattern heddles discussed so far, the pattern system is fixed to the loom frame, and is located behind the ground-weave heddles (i.e. nearer to the warp beam), as with the V system and the C3 system of the Mai Chau loom. The exception to this is an isolated group of Tai weavers in the Dehong area of Yunnan, who use the VB system on a half-frame loom, attached to a long rocker and treadle and located in front of the ground-weave shafts. In all other respects, the Dehong loom resembles half-frame looms with circular patterning systems used by Tai groups in south-western China, rather than full-frame looms used by Western Tai weavers. It seems likely that Dehong weavers acquired their patterning system from weavers to the south, in Xishuangbanna, applying it to their existing loom. The patterning systems that I have described are uniquely associated with Tai weavers, being found in no other looms, except for the looms of the Muong people and Chinese drawloom. Muong weavers, living in the foothills of the Red River Delta in northern Vietnam, speak an Austroasiatic language related to Vietic. The Muong loom is a full-frame type with a distinctive design that seems to be unique to this group. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 20. Bedcover made of two panels of cotton supplementary weft decoration on cotton ground. Dehong area, northern Yunnan province.

However, both the patterning system (C3 type), used by Muong weavers, and their textiles and clothing styles are strikingly similar to neighbouring Tai groups, and it is very likely that the Muong acquired the patterning system from Tai weavers at some point in the past, transferring it to their own loom. Regarding the time-depth of these patterning systems, the first textual reference is found in the writings of Yang Quan, who lived in Zhaoxing (present-day Zhejiang province, China). Writing in around 280 CE, he described a weaver who ‘activated treadles with her feet, while her hands operated a basket-cage’.13 This is a fair description of the versions of this loom used by Zhuang and Maonan weavers, which use a large, cylindrical bamboo cage to hold the heddle cords and pattern sticks. Patterning systems, such as the ones described, are usually associated with the weaving of complex supplementary weft designs, although they can be used equally 杨泉: “足闲踏蹑，手习槛筐” Quoted in 蜀锦（黄能馥) 2006: 21. (My thanks to Eric Boudot for pointing out this reference to me.) 13

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Figure 21. Bedcover made by a Kam weaver in the Tongdao area of Hunan province. Three panels of indigo cotton supplementary weft on a cotton ground.

well for warp patterning: for example, one such system is used by Tai and Muong weavers in the Hoa Binh region for making warp-patterned waistbands for tubeskirts. Many (but not all) Tai groups use these systems for making long cloths with repeating designs in supplementary weft in cotton or silk on a cotton ground, typically used for bedcoverings (Figure 18). These are arguably the most characteristic of all Tai textiles and the form that unites the largest number of Tai weaving groups. In most cases, the designs are limited in number and rather conservative, which seems to be linked to the use of patterning systems that may be saved for generations, and which weavers are reluctant to modify. For example, nearly all Maonan bedcovers, woven in silk supplementary weft on a cotton ground, are variations on a single basic type, consisting of motifs of animals and birds on a geometric field (Figure 19). Zhuang bedcovers are similarly conservative in design. Various Tai groups living along the northern Lao-Vietnam border also make remarkably similar bedcoverings. The most extreme example of conservatism is, perhaps, the bedcovers made in the Dehong area (Figure 20), with a handful of designs, most of which are minor variations on a basic design Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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of stylised birds and geometric figures. These designs may be very ancient, although exactly how old is difficult to determine. Kam (Dong) weavers in the Tongdao area of Hunan province make bedcovers that are strikingly similar to Tai examples, despite their lengthy separation in time and distance (Figure 21). Patterning systems are not universally used by Tai weavers, however: they are uncommon amongst the Shan in Myanmar, and Thai speakers in central and southern Thailand (apart from recently arrived immigrant groups and commercial workshops, as mentioned). Tai Yuan weavers, for example, produce intricate hems (tin chok) for their characteristic tubeskirts by picking warps by hand. Generally, loom technology is less sophisticated in southern Thailand and Myanmar, with fewer loom-based patterning techniques and more reliance on embroidery, appliqué and on cloths purchased from northern Thai and Khmer weavers, and from workshops further afield in India (Conway 1992, 2002). The reasons for these differences versus other Tai groups are unclear, though they may be related to recent migration and consequent cultural upheaval that these groups experienced, and the influence of Indian cultural prototypes on early kingdoms in the Southern region.

The development and spread of complex patterning systems The geographical distribution of patterning systems, from Circular in south-western China, through modified Circular and V forms to the Venetian Blind version, appears to recapitulate their sequence of development (Figures 15 and 22). The simplest surviving form is the ‘loose bunch’ (C1) form found on the Buyi loom. The addition of a central cylinder (C2), such as the large basket found on Maonan and Zhuang looms, allows a larger number of sticks to be held and organised. As they moved westwards, taking their patterning systems with them, weavers figured out how to divide the system into two parts and then to modify it for use on full-frame looms without a rocker heddle (C3 and V forms). The VB form was, presumably, the last to be invented and originated on a full-frame loom with paired ground-weave heddles, since it depends on the crucial insight that two heddles, above and below the warp, can be linked together with the warp passing through the ‘eye’ of the linkage (‘clasped heddle’). The diversity of patterning systems at the Lao-Vietnam border, with three different forms (C3, V and VB) and several loom frame designs being found in a relatively compact region between Mai Chau and Quan Son, together with the fact that weavers in some villages in this region are able to use the V and VB forms interchangeably, suggests that key developments in the history of looms and patterning systems took place in this region, or nearby. It is also clear from reviewing the sequence of complex patterning systems that they have been transferred from one type of loom to another, from half-frame long rocker heddle looms to short rocker heddle looms and then to full-frame looms (both cantilever and cuboidal varieties) and that they have their own lines of development that are separate from that of looms. As Tai-Kadai weavers migrated from the region that is now China, through northern Vietnam into Laos and beyond, they left a ‘trail’ of patterning systems along the route that they (presumably) took (Figure 22). We can be sure that weavers along this track did not invent these Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 22. Southerly Tai migration routes, inferred from the development and distribution of patterning systems

systems independently, because of their extraordinary complexity, to the extent that it is difficult for a casual observer to trace the various cords and interconnections and to comprehend how these systems work. As I discuss below, silk drawloom systems used in commercial workshops in East Asia, far from being invented independently, seem to owe their existence to Tai prototypes.

Looms, patterning systems and migration Weavers, who use complex pattern heddles, often possess several sets of patterns, which can be rolled up and stored when not in use, and passed from mother to daughter and transferred between looms. The maker of a patterning system is an experienced weaver (it is not a skill possessed by all). In contrast, when making a new frame loom the services of a carpenter are needed. The carpenter must have an existing loom to copy, since he is almost certainly not a weaver and probably knows little or nothing about the subject (Boudot and Buckley 2015). This aspect, together with consideration of the distributions of looms and pattern systems of the Tai-Kadai described, leads to some useful generalisations:

• Looms and complex pattern systems are passed intergenerationally, within cultural groups. Weavers are reluctant to modify them, and consequently changes occur slowly.

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• Pattern systems are made by weavers, and are portable. Complex frame looms are made by carpenters, and are less easy to transport. • Migration that is rapid, or over a long distance, tends to lead to loss or simplification of looms and techniques. These principles account for why Tai-Kadai groups in the east, such as the Kam, Maonan and Zhuang, preserve half-frame looms representing very ancient types: these groups have not moved far since they acquired or developed these looms and have consequently never lost them. Dai/Tai in Yunnan, who have presumably migrated westwards from Guizhou/Guangxi, also use half-frame looms, but with some losses of patterning systems, and simplification of the loom frame, probably triggered by their migrations. Other groups, such as the Tay in northern Vietnam and all of the Western Tai weaving groups, who presumably moved to their present locations relatively recently, use full-frame looms, though preserving portable patterning systems that may be much older. In the west, nearly all Tai weavers use the same basic cuboidal frame loom, which is not closely related to looms in the east. They brought their patterning systems with them as they migrated, but as they settled in new areas they tended to adopt the looms of their neighbours and previous migrants, transferring their patterning systems to the new loom and modifying them as needed. Since looms are difficult to transport, when weavers migrate they tend to lose their older designs, and adopt the looms of neighbouring groups and other recent migrants.14 This leads to more uniformity of loom design in areas that have seen migration recently, such as the Western group of Tai weaving traditions (corresponding mainly, but not precisely, to speakers of South-western Tai languages). These principles can also be seen at work in the distribution of looms in the Asian region generally. Simple, portable types (such as the Austronesian body-tensioned loom with an externally braced warp beam) travelled very long distances. Halfframe looms also travelled widely in the Asian mainland, but arrived in some of the more remote regions in simplified form. Large and complex looms (such as the Chinese drawloom, discussed in the next section) tend to have specific, localised distributions.

The influence of Tai patterning technology on the Chinese drawloom Aside from the looms already mentioned, the other loom in the East Asia region that uses a pattern heddle, consisting of cords embedded in heddle loops to record warp lifts, is the Chinese drawloom (Figure 23), famed for the production of patterned, luxurious silks for the imperial court. At the heart of the system is the same device as the circular pattern heddle (C2 type) of the Tai, although the Chinese drawloom incorporates an extra loop between the pattern system and the warps (Figure 24). This allows each lift to be (optionally) transmitted to several warps, which reduces the effort required to make pattern repeats across the weft direction. By raising the patterning system some distance 14

Boudot and Buckley (2015), researching in south-west China, found that in cases where the loom has been lost, the ability to weave is also lost, and is not regained without outside help. Such is the complexity of most full-frame looms that they cannot be recalled from memory alone with sufficient detail to instruct a carpenter to make a new one. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 23. Working drawloom at the Suzhou Silk Museum, China. The weaver (at left) inserts the weft and works a set of treadles (shafts) that produce groundweave and satin effects. The drawperson (at top right) manipulates the pattern harness, which consists of pattern cords embedded in loops that connect with leashes. The lifts are transmitted to the warp via the set of vertical leashes below the drawperson. In some loom setups one pattern loop may connect with several leashes, making pattern repeats along the weft direction.

Figure 24. Schematic drawing of the drawloom in Figure 23, showing the interconnections of the groundweave heddles (GH) and the drawloom pattern system (PH).

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above the warp, it also allows more pattern cords to be incorporated, allowing larger designs to be made. There are no pattern harness (drawloom) systems comparable to Tai systems amongst rural Han Chinese looms, and, in fact, supplementary weft patterning of any kind is rare or absent. Most rural Han weavers make plain tabby, stripes and checks, and some warp patterned bands. Given the lack of Han antecedents for either weft patterning or drawloom patterning systems, compared with numerous Tai versions, it is likely that these systems were first acquired by the Han from Tai weavers. The importance of drawloom systems in the global history of weaving, and of technology in general, is hard to overestimate. They are the first ‘programmable’ devices, in which a coded set of instructions can be mounted on a mechanical device, executed, and swapped for another set at will. A version of the Chinese drawloom had arrived in Italian weaving workshops by the 15th or the 16th century, with a patterning system that is basically identical to that of the Chinese loom called the Lesser Drawloom.15 The basic concept of recording a pattern as an endless loop of instructions inspired the Jacquard loom, which was re-exported to China and India at the end of the 19th century. Chinese weavers were quick to understand and adopt the Jacquard version, unsurprisingly, since the loom was substantially the same as their existing looms. More generally, devices which can execute looped instructions sets are now universal in the modern world: in conceptual terms, all of these devices probably owe a debt to a patterning system developed by Tai weavers in southern China around 2000 years ago.

Weaving technology and Tai migration history The present-day distribution of weaving technologies records, amongst other things, aspects of their history of differentiation and migration. The Li in Hainan, who are isolated to some degree by their island location, retain the simplest and oldest type of loom. The Li appear to have been genetically distinct from their mainland cousins for at least 20,000 years (Li et al. 2008). This does not rule out influences from the mainland, but it does suggest a degree of continuity over a long period. The simple loom used by the Li is absent amongst Tai-Kadai groups on the mainland, so no clear link can be discerned between the Li and mainland groups based on weaving technology alone. Another notable absence from the entire inventory of Tai-Kadai looms is the simple ground-level loom with a warp beam fixed to an external point, the type that is used by Malayo-Polynesian speakers in East Nusa Tenggara, as well as by TibetoBurman speakers in upland regions of Southeast Asia and the Himalayan foothills. It seems unlikely that this loom was ever used by the Tai-Kadai, a fact that casts doubt on the linkage between Tai-Kadai and Austronesian proposed by some linguists. The Tai and Kam-Sui of the Northern and Central regions on the mainland have the greatest variety of loom types today, with half-frame types (of at least three different kinds) used alongside more recently developed full-frame looms, many with complex 15

Several drawloom designs, such as the jala and adai systems, are also used by weavers in India; however, the interconnections of the patterning systems are different to the Chinese drawloom. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 25. Bedcover made by ‘Zhuang’ weaver in the Napo area, Guangxi province. Hemp and natural dyes.

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patterning devices. Amongst the Tai in the Western region, a single type of full-frame loom (the cuboidal frame loom with a pair of clasped heddles) is the dominant form across a wide area, consistent with these groups having migrated to their present positions more recently than groups living in the east. The picture of the emergence and differentiation of the Tai that emerges from the distribution of weaving technologies is similar to that which can be deduced from the patterns of language distribution, although there are some differences. At the earliest time (before 1000 BCE), the simple, foot-braced loom was probably widespread in southern China, including most of the mainland coastal region. Despite the uniformity in weaving technology, cultural diversity in this region was probably at least as great as it is today. After 1000 BCE, more complex looms were developed by mainland groups, while the Li retained their older form. Most models of Tai development are based around the idea that there once existed a ‘proto-Tai-Kadai’ people with shared language and material culture, encompassing both the mainland and Hainan. Given the isolated situation of Hainan, the genetic data indicating continuous occupation for a long period, and the lack of clear connections in weaving technologies, it seems doubtful to me that such a culture existed. It is more likely that what we now recognise as ‘Tai’ culture is a phenomenon with origins on the mainland, which began amongst the patchwork of groups in Southern China who shared some trading links and tastes in material goods, including fine woven textiles. The introduction of wet-rice agriculture brought together some of these groups in the labour-intensive activity of farming irrigated paddy, and the success of this enterprise and the surplus that it produced (signalled in part by the wearing and display of complex textiles) attracted more participants. Frame looms and patterning systems ensured that these important textiles could be made consistently and reproducibly. In contrast, the weaving practices of more remote and resource-poor groups (such as Tibeto-Burman and Austroasiatic speakers in upland areas, as well as the Li on Hainan) retained older and less resource-intensive technologies. Despite the lack of obvious connections in loom designs between the mainland and Hainan, there are connections between these regions in textile forms and decoration. These are probably the result of exchanges that took place at later time periods. The ancestors of at least some of the Nung, living on the Guangxi-Vietnam border, seem to have become differentiated and geographically separate from other Tai-Kadai groups at a period before the development of half-frame looms (i.e. before circa 1000 BCE), since they acquired a different loom from their northern neighbours. This distinction extends to textiles: Nung and some ‘southern Zhuang’ produce very simple, bast-fiber bedcovers (Figure 25) with simple patterning, quite different from those made by other Tai groups. The information available is incomplete, however, and deserves further study. The Tay in northern Vietnam seem to have arrived in their current positions more recently: their looms and patterning techniques suggest links with both the ‘Zhuang’ of Guangxi and with the Tai of the Western group. To the north, Buyi weavers (who retain the simplest C1 patterning system) became distinct from the Kam, Maonan and northern Zhuang traditions (using the C2 system). A significant amount of exchange must also have occurred during this period with Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Miao-Yao and Sinitic speakers, because of similarities between the half-frame looms used by all these groups today. Complex patterning systems were an exception: these continued to be a distinctively Tai-Kadai feature. The lack of exchange of patterning systems with other cultural groups suggests that this technology was jealously guarded by Tai weavers. The looms and patterning systems used by Maonan and Zhuang weavers are remarkably similar, despite their languages being placed in different branches by linguists.16 Most Tai/Dai groups in Yunnan province are linked by linguists with the Southwestern Tai language group; however, apart from the Lu in the far south of the province (who use the full-frame cuboidal loom), most Dai use half-frame looms similar to those found further east in Guizhou and Guangxi. This suggests that these weavers and their looms arrived as a result of separate migrations through China that took place before the expansion of the Western group of weaving cultures. The final stage of Tai expansion was marked by the development and expansion of a new loom (the full-frame cuboidal loom with paired heddles) and new patterning systems (C3, V and VB forms) that were used on this loom. The critical region for these developments was northern Vietnam, subsequently spreading to Laos, southern Yunnan and northern Thailand, and beyond. The North Vietnam/ Lao border region retains an astonishing variety of loom designs, patterning systems and textile forms, evidence of its importance as a formative region for Western Tai weaving culture. The critical formative region probably included much of the Red River delta at one time, and included exchanges with non-Tai groups, such as the ancestors of the Muong, the evidence for this interaction being preserved in the ‘Tai-like’ weaving traditions and patterning technique of this group. These interactions probably began before 0 CE, as Tai-Kadai groups migrated into northern Vietnam from Guangxi. The significance of this region has also been recognised by linguists (Chamberlain 1972). One of the most important pieces of evidence in this region is the loom of the Tai in the Mai Chau region. This loom has a mix of features of the Western region including cuboidal form, combined with features that are characteristic of looms from the Northern and Central regions, including a warp beam with four spokes at each end, and a circular patterning system (C3). In some respects, the Mai Chau loom (and several other looms that are used in this region) is a link between Tai weaving traditions in the Western region and older traditions in the Northern and Central areas.

Comparison of looms and languages As noted, the distribution of loom technologies and languages tell broadly the same story, of origins and differentiation in the east, and migration to the west, though with differences in detail. The differences do not necessarily imply ‘conflict’ in the data, since we would not expect perfect correlation between languages and weaving (or any 16

Steven Frost informed me that the Maonan and Zhuang also share other cultural similarities, such as aspects of ritual and pantheon, with Zhuang characters occurring in Maonan ritual manuals, for example. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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other pair of cultural traits, for that matter), and such correlations that do exist would be expected to gradually diminish over time. A full discussion of the similarities and differences with linguistic data is beyond the scope of this article. However I will highlight a few points of interest:

1. The Kam, Maonan and Mulam share similar looms and patterning technologies with the ‘Northern Zhuang’, suggesting close relationships (or a lengthy period in close proximity) between these groups. 2. The Buyi are often linked with the ‘Northern Zhuang’ by linguists, but the differences in looms and textile styles between the Northern Zhuang and the Buyi in the Qiannan area (for example) suggests a separate line of cultural development for these groups. 3. In Yunnan, most Tai (Dai) speakers, including the Tai Nua, Tai Ya and Tai Hongjin, are included in the South-western linguistic group. In terms of loom technology however, they retain the half-frame looms that place them with the Northern cultural group. The loom of the Tai Nua in the Dehong area is an oddity: it incorporates the Venetian blind patterning system that is otherwise only found on more advanced looms further south. 4. The looms and weaving techniques of most Tai in Assam (such as the Ahom) are similar to those of Shan weavers in Myanmar, which supports accounts of their history that suggest that they migrated there from Myanmar. The loom of the Tai Phake is an exception, however: this is a body-tensioned, half-frame loom of an older design to other looms found amongst Tai in Assam. This loom is not found amongst Tai in Myanmar, as far as I am aware, although it is used by some Chin weavers in Kachin state. Its presence in Assam suggests that at least some Tai arrived by a different route and at a different time to the Ahom, probably via a more northerly route through Yunnan. It would be interesting to investigate Phake culture to see if there are any other indications of this. 5. Several key inventions that characterise the Western group of Tai weaving cultures (corresponding partly with the South-western Tai linguistic group) seem to have arisen in the region that is now the border between northern Vietnam and northern Laos, that probably also included the Red River delta area. There is evidence for technological innovations in loom frame design and patterning systems, and for interaction with Vietic speaking groups (Muong) in this region. 6. Some Nung/Zhuang in the China-Vietnam border area use a distinctive half-frame loom of an ancient type, which is quite different to the looms used by neighbouring Tai and Tay groups. More study is needed to understand the distribution of this weaving complex and its correlation with the history of the Nung.

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Conclusions Tai-Kadai peoples use a range of weaving tools that is arguably the most complex and varied of any in the Asian region, spanning the range from the simplest type on Hainan to large looms with frames, incorporating drawloom patterning systems that code hundreds of warp lifts. A progression in loom designs (from half-frame to full-frame versions) can be traced from east to west, and a similar, but separate, progression in the development of patterning systems can be seen along a route from south-western China, through North Vietnam, to Laos and Northern Thailand. These routes trace probable migration paths of weavers, who took their looms and patterning systems with them. More extended migrations, to southern Thailand and Myanmar, seem to have resulted in the loss or simplification of some aspects of the complex Tai repertoire, however. Many Tai-Kadai loom designs are shared with neighbouring groups, but their complex drawloom pattern recording systems are a uniquely ‘Tai’ feature, which enabled them to reproduce patterned cloths, such as bedcoverings, for generations with little or no alteration. Alongside the pattern systems, these domestic textiles remain the most characteristically ‘Tai’ textiles, in the sense that they are made by nearly all groups. The Tai seem to have guarded their patterning systems carefully and did not share them with neighbouring Hmong and Tibeto-Burman speaking weavers; however, there is a connection between the system employed in south-west China (C2 heddle) and the Chinese drawloom, which embodies the same principle at its heart. Northern Vietnam emerges as a critical region in which the technical innovations that characterise ‘Tai’ weaving (particularly speakers of South-western Tai languages) emerged. This story is a complex one, and involved exchanges with Vietic speakers, evidence of which is preserved in loom designs used in this region.

Acknowledgements My thanks to Eric Boudot for his help with translating and understanding Long Bo’s thesis on the looms of Dai weavers in Yunnan province, and for his fieldwork in southern China, on which I have relied for this part of my survey. Thanks are also due to James Chamberlain for his comments on linguistic and historical questions, to Steven Frost for comments on ethnographic aspects, and to Deb McClintock and Hero Grainger-Taylor for their input on weaving terminology.

References Baker, C. 2002. From Yue To Tai. Journal of the Siam Society, 90, 1-26. Boudot, E. and Buckley, C. 2015. The Roots of Asian Weaving: Textiles and Looms from Southwest China in the He Haiyan Collection. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Chamberlain, J. R. 1972. The origin of the Southwestern Tai. Bulletin des Amis du Laos, 7-8, 233-244. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Chamberlain, J. R. 1975. A new look at the history and classification of the Tai languages. In Studies in Tai linguistics in honor of William J. Gedney, ed. J. G. Harrisand J. R. Chamberlain, Bangkok : Central Institute of English Language, Office of State Universities, 49-66. Chamberlain, J. R. 2016. Kra-Dai and the Proto-History of South China and Vietnam. Journal of the Siam Society, 104, 27-77. Cheesman, P. 2004 Lao-Tai Textiles: The textiles of Xam Nuea and Muang Phuan. Chiang Mai: Studio Naenna. Conway, S. 1992. Thai textiles. London: British Museum Press. Conway, S. 2002. Silken Threads Lacquer Thrones: Lan Na Court Textiles. Bangkok: River Books. Evans, G. 2016. The Tai original diaspora. Journal of the Siam Society 104, 1-26. Gedney, W. J. l964. A Comparative Sketch of White, Black and Red Tai. Social Science Review (special number). Bangkok. Gittinger, M. and Lefferts, H. L. 1992. Textiles and the Tai Experience in Southeast Asia. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum. Guedes, J. D. A. 2011. Millets, rice, social complexity, and the spread of agriculture to the Chengdu Plain and Southwest China. Rice, 4(3-4), 104-113. Holm, D. 2010. Linguistic diversity along the China-Vietnam border. Linguistics of the TibetoBurman Area 33(2) 1-62. Howard, M. C. and Howard, K. B. 2002. Textiles of the Daic Peoples of Vietnam. Bangkok: White Lotus Press. Ito, N. 2015. Why Do They Weave?: The Role of Marriage Rites in the Textile Production of Lao-Tai Women in Houa Phanh Province. The Journal of Lao Studies, Special Issue 2015, 64-81. Li, F. K. 1977. A handbook of comparative Tai. Oceanic Linguistics Special Publications, (15), i-389. Li, D., Li, H., Ou, C., Lu, Y., Sun, Y., Yang, B., ... & Jin, L. 2008. Paternal genetic structure of Hainan aborigines isolated at the entrance to East Asia. PLoS One, 3(5), e2168. Li, Q., Li, B., and Yang, X. M. 2011. Study on Figuring Technique on a Back-Strap Loom of Li Nationality. Advanced Materials Research, 328, 961-965. Trans Tech Publications. Li, Q., Li, B., and Li, J. Q. 2013. A Further Study on Bamboo-Cage Loom in Guangxi Province of China. Advanced Materials Research, 627, 173-177. Trans Tech Publications. Long Bo. 2012. 底花本织机及其经锦织造技术研究 Low huaben loom and warp-patterned brocade weaving technique research. Master’s thesis. Long, B., Zhao, F., Wu, Z. Y., and Peng, J. 2011. Investigate on the technique and artistry of Dai brocade in Yunnan province. Silk, 12, 015. Luo, W., Hartmann, J., Li, J., and Sysamouth, V. 2000. GIS mapping and analysis of Tai linguistic and settlement patterns in southern China. Geographic Information Sciences, 6(2), 129-136. McClintock, D. 2013. Storing pattern above the warp line. Complex Weavers Journal, June 2013, 5-7. McIntosh, L. S. 2009. Textiles of the Phu Thai of Laos. Doctoral dissertation, Simon Fraser University. Terwiel, B. J. 1978. The origin of the T’ai peoples reconsidered. Oriens extremus, 25(2), 239-258.

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Namo Buddhāya Gurave (K. 888): Circulation of a Liturgical Formula across Asia1 Peter Skilling

Abstract—The article takes an inscription from Cambodia as its starting point, showing that it is a Sanskrit verse of homage to the three jewels that is associated with the celebrated Indian poet, Mātṛceṭa (ca. 4th century). It places the verse within a wide liturgical context, showing that it was known in Tang China, and that it has been known and recited in Nepal and Bali up to the 20th century or even the present. The article gives new readings of two of the versions, those of the Khmer inscription and of the Chinese transcription. It is a contribution to the somewhat neglected field of Sanskrit Buddhist (and/or Buddhist Sanskrit) liturgy.

The Inscription of Preah Khan of Kompong Svay (K. 888) A large sandstone image in the National Museum, Phnom Penh, immediately attracts the visitor’s attention (Figures 1a, b, c). A male figure clad in monastic robes sits cross-legged with his right leg folded over the left. Draped over his left shoulder is a neatly folded robe, a saṃghāṭi.2 From the front he appears to have close-cropped hair, and his ears have long and extended lobes, resembling those of a Buddha.3 With halfshut eyes and gently smiling lips, his serene face is expressive of subdued joy. There is nothing unusual about any of these features. What is unusual – and in fact would seem to be unique – is that the seated figure has raised his arms to balance a massive rectangular object on the top of his head with his open palms. And this object is inscribed in large letters. What is the object? Is it a slab, or could it be a book? If it is a book, it must be meant I am grateful to Saerji, Santi Pakdeekham, Sāmaṇerī Dhammadinnā (then Giuliana Martini), Bertrand Porte, Christophe Pottier, Péter-Dániel Szántó, Alexander von Rospatt, and Trent Walker for suggestions and materials. Without their kindness this article would be a much poorer thing. I especially thank Jens-Uwe Hartmann, Péter-Dániel Szántó, Alexander von Rospatt, and Trent Walker for their helpful corrections and suggestions. 2 The neatly folded saṃghāṭi is characteristic of Southeast Asian Buddhism, or, more specifically, Thai, Lao and Khmer Buddhism. Can we trace the earliest representations of this in art? As far as I know, it is not characteristic of early Indian Buddhist art, or of non-Theravāda fraternities. 3 According to Bertrand Porte (email, 15 May 2012), the carving is partly unfinished. At the back of the head, the hair and hairline are clearly unfinished, and one can observe the point marks of the chisel (Figure 1c). The base of the statue extends as a tenon, which would have been set in a pedestal. 1

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Figure 1a, 1b, 1c (opposite and left). Stone figure from Kompong Svay, National Museum of Cambodia (NMC). Photos 2010 courtesy, EFEO/NMC. Figure 2 (above). Lokeśvara, National Museum of Cambodia East tower, Angkor Thom, sandstone, late 12th–early 13th century. c. 190 cm in height. Inv. Ka 1695. Photo courtesy EFEO/NMC.

to be a folding paper manuscript – a leporello, concertina, or accordion book – and, if so, it might possibly be the earliest depiction of a paper manuscript in Khmer or Thai art. A few images, such as Prajñāpāramitā or Lokeśvara, hold palm-leaf manuscripts, but these are narrow, short, and proportionally much smaller (Figure 2). The statue is from “Preah Khan of Kompong Svay”, located in Ta Seng village, Ronak Seng commune, Sangkom Thmei district, Preah Vihear province. Preah Khan is a vast complex of monuments about 100 kilometres east of Angkor; it is also known as “le grand Preah Khan” to distinguish it from the Preah Khan at Angkor. Henri Mauger referred to the statue in his report on Preah Khan published in the Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient (BEFEO) in 1939.4 Within the fourth enclosure, at the south-west corner of the barai, are the remains of a tower-like structure, known locally as Preah Chatomukh, “the four-faced image” (Figure 3). It is made of Henri Mauger (1903–?), an architect, worked with the EFEO in Cambodia in the 1930s. He published articles on several sites in the pages of BEFEO. See www.efeo.fr/biographies/notices/ mauger.htm.

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Map: Trans-Asian liturgical connectivity: travels of a Buddhist verse (map by Pierrre Pichard, EFEO)

large stone blocks around a central laterite core; each side was carved to represent a standing Buddha, estimated by Mauger to have been fifteen metres in height. The torsos and upper portions no longer survive, except as blocks and fragments scattered in the vicinity. Fragments of the head of a Buddha with its hair curls (Figure 4) suggest that the statues were indeed finished. By the time of Mauger’s visit, only some of the lower portions remained in place: the lower hem of the robe and the left hand with the palm extended, thumb and forefinger held together, along the line of the left leg (Figure 5). That there is nothing comparable along the right side suggests that the arm would have been raised above waist height. Most probably, the monument was designed as a Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 3 (above). View of Preah Catomukh from east. Photo PKKS 06 courtesy Christophe Pottier, EFEO, 2000 Figure 4 (below left). Fragment of head of Buddha, Preah Catomukh. Photo PKKS 06 courtesy Christophe Pottier, EFEO, 2000. Figure 5 (below right). Left hand of Buddha, Preah Catomukh. Photo PKKS 06 courtesy Christophe Pottier, EFEO, 2000.

solid structure representing four standing Buddhas, one on each face, each with the right hand raised and the left arm extended along the side. At the foot of the monument were some loose sculptures. “Aux pieds de cette gigantesque statue, on découvrit une quantité de sculptures, sans doute offertes par les adorateurs. Deux d’entre elles sont entrées au Musée Albert Sarraut: un Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 6a, 6b, 6c. Buddhist triad recovered from Preah Catomukh, front, side and rear views. Photos courtesy EFEO.

personnage accroupi portant sur sa tête un cartouche inscrit d’une formule bouddhique; et une trinité bouddhique, supportée par un orant, groupe dont la composition est unique dans l’art khmer et qui est d’une belle exécution.”5 The two statues singled out for mention by Mauger entered the collection of the Musée Albert Sarraut – now the National Museum – in Phnom Penh in January 1940, where they remain today.6 Their current inventory numbers are 1697 and 1848 respectively. Inv. No. 1697 is displayed in the West Gallery; Inv. No. 1848 is displayed in the gallery around the central garden.7 The two images are unusual in Khmer art and indeed in Buddhist art in general. The figure supporting a triad (Figures 6a, b, c) has no known parallel in stone sculpture, but may be compared to a number of bronze images. One, in the National Museum, Bangkok, is a two-sided seated figure who holds up with both arms a panel or screen Henri Mauger, “Práḥ Khằn de Koṃpoṅ Svày,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient XXXIX (1939), p. 212. 6 Artefacts discovered later at Preah Khan, now in the Museum, include the statue “presumed to be Jayavarman VII”: Dalsheimer, Pièce no 73. 7 For Inv. No. 1848, see Dalsheimer, § 119, H. 0.83 m, L. 0.48 m. The catalogue assigns different dates to the two statues: 13th–14th century to 1697 (§ 85), and end of the 12th century to 1848 (§ 119). Given the fact that they are of the same material (“grès gris”) and are stylistically similar – compare especially the style of the robe, the wide folded saṃghāṭi over the shoulder, and the seated posture of the Buddha in § 119 and the orant in § 85 – the dates need to be reexamined. Inv. No. 1848 is illustrated in Pierre Garnier, Guy Nafilyan, Christian Cres, and Jacqueline Nafilyan, L’art khmer en situation de reserve/Khmer Art in reserve, Marseille: Éditions Européennes Marseille – Provence & Arts et Expressions Marseille – Provence, 1997, p. 115. They describe it as a “borne bouddhique”/ “Buddhist boundary stone”, but this is inaccurate in both languages. 5

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Figure 7a, 7b. Bronze figure holding panel or screen, front and rear views. National Museum, Bangkok

depicting in relief a central Buddha within a tower with two tiers of devotees below (Figures 7a, b).8 The catalogue of the National Museum, Phnom Penh, describes the image as a “personnage assis, jambes croisées, tenant sur sa tête une inscription pāli.”9 There has been a general consensus that the inscription, which was assigned the number K. 888, is in Pāli.10 The lettering on the rectangular slab is unfinished: the top two lines have been almost entirely engraved in convex lettering, but the rest is only sketched out (Figures 8a, b). There is a break in the stone where it joins the head or hair-knot of the devotee, MC Subhadra Subhadradis, Pratimakam khom, Bangkok, 2515, fig. 153; Piriya Krairiksh, Rak ngao haeng sinlapa Thai, Bangkok: River Books, 2553 [2010], figures 2.367, 2.368 and pp. 354– 355; Marlene L. Zeffreys, Nicholas S. Zeffreys, and Jeffrey Stone, Heaven and Empire: Khmer Bronzes from the 9th to the 15th Centuries, Bangkok: White Lotus, 2001, pl. 62. 9 Nadine Dalsheimer, Les collections du musée national de Phnom Penh, Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 2001, p. 178. 10 So, for example, George Cœdès, Inscriptions du Cambodge VIII, Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 1966, pp. 210–211; Saveros Pou, Nouvelles inscriptions du Cambodge I, Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 1989, pp. 14–15 8

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Figure 8a. Inscription K. 888. Photo 2010 courtesy EFEO. Figure 8b. Estampage of K. 888. Estampage courtesy Khom Sreymom, NMC/EFEO; photo Santi Pakdeekham, 4 December 2014.

resulting in the loss of several letters. The epigraph does not bear a date; it has been dated palaeographically to the 13th to 14th centuries, that is, the post-Jayavarman VII period. Pou finds the writing comparable to that of K. 754, “the oldest Pāli inscription of Cambodia,”11 and would date our record “aux premières années du XIVe siècle.” If the inscription were in Pāli, it would join K. 754 as one of the oldest Pāli records of Cambodia. But the inscription is not in Pāli: it is in Sanskrit and Khmer.12 It contains a four-line verse followed by a phrase in Khmer, which is not fully legible. Although much of the vocabulary of the verse is shared by Sanskrit and Pāli, the inflections are Sanskrit, as are the words dharmāya and tribhyo.13 (1) oṃ namo vuddhāya gurave (2) namo dharmmāya tāy(i)ṇe George Cœdès, “La plus ancienne inscription en påli du Cambodge,” repr. in George Cœdès, Articles sur le pays khmer, Paris, École française d’Extrême-Orient,1989, pp. 282–289 (originally published BEFEO XXXVI, pp. 1–21). 12 For an illustration of the inscription, see Nouvelles inscriptions, Pl. I; for the image, see Dalsheimer, Les collection du musée national de Phnom Penh, pièce no. 85. 13 Tribhyo (pace Pou’s traibhyo) is clear in the rubbings. I interpret the hook in the stroke of the long ā that rises above the line before descending as a vertical stroke as a superscript ra. 11

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(3) namas saṅghāya mahate14 (4) tribhyo .... (śa)tata(ṃ) namaḥ (|) namassa … (vraḥ) mantra vraḥ kamrateṅ (añ).

When we take into account the Sanskrit texts and Tibetan translations to be presented below, we can reconstruct the verse with some degree of confidence: namo buddhāya gurave, namo dharmāya tāyine namo saṃghāya mahate, tribhyo’pi satataṃ namaḥ.

Mātṛceṭa’s “Praise of the Three Jewels” This four-line verse of homage bears a close resemblance to the opening verse of the “Praise of the Three Jewels,” Triratnastotra, a short verse composition ascribed to the great Indian poet, Mātṛceṭa.15 Lost in Sanskrit but preserved in Tibetan translation as the Dkon mchog gsum la bstod pa,16 the Triratnastotra has four verses. The opening verse pays homage to the three jewels collectively; it is followed by one verse of homage each for the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha. Triratnastotra: Tibetan version17 sangs rgyas gtso la phyag ’tshal lo // skyob pa’i chos la phyag ’tshal lo // dge ’dun che la phyag tshal lo // gsum la rtag tu phyag ’tshal lo18 // Homage to the Buddha, the foremost;19 The writing is unclear but it appears to read namas saṅghāya rather than the correct sandhi form namaḥ saṅghāya. 15 For Mātṛceṭa, see the preface and introduction to Michael Hahn (tr.), Invitation to Enlightenment: Letter to the Great King Kaniṣka by Mātṛceṭa [and] Letter to a Disciple by Candragomin, Berkeley: Dharma Publishing, 1999. For a list of works ascribed to Mātṛceṭa, see Jens-Uwe Hartmann (ed., tr.), Das Varṇārhavarṇastotra des Mātṛceṭa, Göttingen (Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen No. 160), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987, pp. 22–30 (Triratnastotra, p. 26). For further fragments, see Jens-Uwe Hartmann, “Neues zum Varṇārhavarṇa,” in Martin Straube et al. (eds.), Pāsādikadānam: Festschrift für Bhikkhu Pāsādika, Marburg: Indica et Tibetica Verlag, 2009 (Indica et Tibetica, 52), pp. 229–241. 16 See the exemplary edition and study of the Tibetan version in Jens-Uwe Hartmann, “The Triratnastotra ascribed to Mātṛceṭa” in Helga Uebach and Jampa L. Panglung, (eds.), Tibetan Studies: Proceedings of the 4th Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Schloss Hohenkammer-Munich 1985 (Studia Tibetica: Quellen und Studien zur tibetischen Lexikographie, Band II), Munich: Kommission für Zentralasiatische Studien, Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1988, pp. 177–184. 17 Hartmann “Triratnastotra,” p. 180. The Tibetan in Ye shes sde is the same. 18 Variant bdag phyag ’tshal, for which see Hartmann, “The Triratnastotra,” p. 181. 19 The Tibetan translation of guru as gtso is unusual, since guru is regularly rendered by bla ma, and gtso usually translates Sanskrit agra, jyeṣṭha, śreṣṭha, pramukha, mukhya. The lexicons available do not give any examples of it having been used for guru. The usage is, however, vouchsafed by the commentary. 14

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Homage to the Dharma, the Saviour; Homage to the Saṅgha, the grand; Perpetual homage to the three.

Two commentaries on the Triratnastotra are preserved in Tibetan Tanjurs: Vṛtti by Rgyal ba’i sras (Jinaputra), translated by Jñānaśānti and Dpal gyi lhun po;20 Sangs rgyas gtso ba’i rgya cher ’grel pa by the Tibetan scholar, Zhang Ye shes sde.21

The Tibetan is found in three manuscripts from the Dunhuang caves in Gansu, China (see for example Figure 9). The Tibetan stotra version is not provided with a translator’s colophon, but given that the translation is identical to that which opens Ye shes sde’s commentary, it is likely that the translation was done in central Tibet in the early 9th century by Ye shes sde, one of the most influential figures in the history of Tibetan lexicography and translation, and one of the earliest authors of scholastic texts.22

Figure 9. Dunhuang manuscript of Triratnastotra, v. 1. Pelliot tibétain Touen-houang 135. Musée Nationale, Paris.

Mātṛceṭa’s “Praise of the Thirty-five Sugatas” The same verse opens another work attributed to Mātṛceṭa, the “Praise of the Thirtyfive Sugatas” (Sugatapañcatriṃśatstotra). This too is lost in Sanskrit but preserved in Tibetan translation. The translation of the first three lines is identical to that of the Triratnastotra. The last line is, however, different: Jinaputra (rGyal ba’i sras), Triratnastotravṛtti, Peking edition Cat. No. 2036, Otani reprint Vol. 46, ka, 123r1–128v8. The colophon reads, dkon mchog gsum la bstod pa’i ’grel pa slob dpon rgyal ba’i sras kyis mdzad pa rdzogs so // rgya gar gyi mkhan po dznyā na śā nti dang / bod kyi lo tsā ba bande dpal gyi lhun po’i sdes sgyur cing zhus te gtan la phab pa’o //. Little is known of this Rgyal ba’i sras, who may be the same as Yaśomitra who composed the Vyākhyā on the Abhidharmakośa. 21 Ye shes sde (Jñānasena), Sangs rgyas gtso bo’i rgya cher ’grel pa, Peking edition Cat. No. 5848, Otani reprint Vol. 145, tsho, 269v7–274r1; critical Tanjur vol. 116, p. 610. The colophon reads, sangs rgyas gtso’i ṭīka rgya cher ’grel pa bod kyi lo tsā ba zhang ye shes sde mdzad pa rdzogs so. 22 For Ye shes sde, see Peter Skilling, Mahāsūtras: Great Discourses of the Buddha. Vol. II, Parts I & II. Oxford: The Pali Text Society, 1997 (Sacred Books of the Buddhists XLVI), pp. 129–130. For his proto-Grub mtha’ composition Lta ba’i khyad par, see David Seyfort Ruegg, “Autour du Lta ba’i khyad par de Ye shes sde,” in David Seyfort Ruegg, The Buddhist Philosophy of the Middle: Essays on Indian and Tibetan Madhyamaka, Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2010, pp. 267–287 (originally published in Journal asiatique, Année 1981, pp. 207–229). 20

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sangs rgyas gtso la phyag ’tshal lo // skyob pa’i chos la phyag ’tshal lo // dge ’dun che la phyag tshal lo // gsum la rtag tu skyabs su mchi //.23 Homage to the Buddha, the foremost; Homage to the Dharma, the saviour; Homage to the Saṅgha, the grand; I perpetually go for refuge to the three.

The colophon of the Sugatapañcatriṃśatstotra ascribes the translation to the Indian, Upādhyāya Sumakaravarma, and the Tibetan translator, Rin chen bzang po. With the exception of the last line, the translation is identical to that by Ye shes sde. Ritual recitation of the names of the thirty-five Buddhas is widely practised in Tibetan Buddhism, and the thirty-five are depicted in art, for example in thangka paintings. There is no evidence for the practice in Cambodia or Southeast Asia, however, so it is not very likely that the namo buddhāya verse in K. 888 comes from the “Praise of the Thirty-five Sugatas.”24 At present, the Triratnastotra does not survive as an independent Sanskrit work. The opening verse of homage – the verse with which we are herein concerned – is, however, preserved in Sanskrit in a phonetic transcription into Chinese in a document from Dunhuang and in the living liturgical and manuscript traditions of the Kathmandu valley, Nepal, and of the island of Bali, Indonesia.

A Chinese interlude The Dunhuang document is associated with Xuanzang (玄奘, c. 602–664) and Amoghavajra (Bukong 不空, 705–774)25 (Figure 10). It has three parts: 1. A preface, written by Xuanzang’s disciple, Kuiji (窺基 632–682, here named “Upādhyāya Ci’en,” Ci en heshang 慈恩和尚);26 Pierre Python, Vinaya-viniścaya-upāli-praipṛcchā. Enquête d’Upāli pour une exégèse de la discipline. Traduit du sanscrit, du tibétain et du chinois, avec introduction, édition critique des fragments sanscrits et de la version tibétaine, notes et glossaires. En appendice: texte et traduction de T 1582, I, et du Sugatapañcatriṃśatastotra de Mātṛceṭa, Paris: Adrien-Maissoneuve, 1973 (Collection Jean Przyluski, Tome V), p. 156. 24 There is a frieze of thirty-seven Buddhas at Preah Pithu: see David Snellgrove, Angkor – Before and After: A Cultural History of the Khmers, Bangkok: Orchid Press, 2004, p. 138, Fig. 159. 25 Taishō 256, which is based on Dunhuang manuscript S 2464. There are in addition four other manuscripts: S 5648, S 5627, S 3178, P 2322. I initially learned about the document from Leon Hurvitz, “Hsüan-tsang (602–664) and the Heart Scripture,” in Lewis Lancaster (ed.), Prajñāpāramitā and Related Systems: Studies in Honour of Edward Conze, Berkeley, 1977 (Berkeley Buddhist Series 1), pp. 103–121. For what follows I am indebted to Saerji 萨尔吉 (University of Peking) – for the translations, transcriptions, and commentary presented in this section. 26 Hurvitz wrongly argues that Ci en heshang was Xuanzang. 23

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Figure 10. Dunhuang manuscript of Taishō 256: S 5648. Courtesy IDP, British Library, London

2. “Broad Praise of the Three Jewels, recited in the Lotus family” (Lianhua bu pu zantan sanbao 蓮花部普讚歎三寶),27 (see below), transcribed by Amoghavajra; 3. The main section, “Chinese Phonetic Transcription of the Sanskrit Scripture of the Heart of Prajñāpāramitā” (Tang fan fan dui ziyin bore boluomiduo xin jing 唐梵 飜對字音般若波羅蜜多心經),28 the Sanskrit Hṛdaya-sūtra transcribed phonetically in Chinese characters, which, according to the document, was transmitted (or recited) by Bodhisatva Avalokiteśvara and “Sanzang fashi” (Dharmabhāṇaka of the Tripiṭaka) Xuanzang, and polished by Amoghavajra (觀自在菩薩與三藏法師玄奘親教授梵 本，不空潤色). The “Broad Praise of the Three Jewels” opens with a parallel to our verse: Namo buddhāya gurave namo dharmāya tāyine{ma}29 namaḥ saṃghāya mahate traibhyo Hurvitz: “Broad Praise of the Three Jewels, Recited in the Lotus School and Others.” The Taishō version gives Lianhua bu deng pu zantan sanbao 蓮花部等普讚歎三寶,蓮花部. The superfluous character deng 等, “and others,” should be cancelled. Lianhua bu probably indicates the “lotus family” (padmakula) of esoteric Buddhism. The mantra itself repeats the word kamala, “lotus,” seven times. 28 Hurvitz: “Brahmanical Text of the Scripture of the Heart of Prajñāpāramitā.” Fan ben 梵本 indicates “Sanskrit text”. 29 The manuscript adds the extra syllable ma 麼. 27

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This is followed by a long formula or mantra that is difficult to restore to Sanskrit. It is not related to the Triratnastotra or the other texts studied here.30

The living tradition of the Newars Sharkey, in his study of the daily ritual of the Kathmandu shrines, wrote about Buddhaṃ trailokyanāthaṃ, “a short hymn in praise of Śākyamuni Buddha which lists some of his chief epithets,” which is recited after Dānabalena, “undoubtedly the best known of Newar Buddhist Sanskrit hymns, due to its simplicity and the frequency with which it is recited.”31 Dānabalena is an extract from one of the most widely disseminated sūtra/mantras of antiquity, the Aparimitāyuḥsūtra or Unlimited Life Sūtra. The liturgical dānabalena consists of six verses that evoke the authority of each of the six perfections and close the sūtra. The verse in praise of the three jewels often comes between the two recitations:32 oṃ namo buddhāya gurave, namo dharmāya tāyiṇe namo saṃghāya mahate.33 Oṃ.

Sharkey notes that “it is a convention to recite this or a very similar verse before a number of stotras.” This suggests that it may be recited in a number of contexts. The verse also occurs at the end of a manuscript of the Ṣaḍgatikārikā:34 namo buddhāya gurave, namo dharmāya tāyine namo saṃghāya mahate, tribhyo’pi satataṃ namaḥ.

Here it seems to introduce some ancillary verses on refuge and bodhicitta. It also occurs in the Nepalese ritual text Gurumaṇḍalārcana and the Kudṛṣṭinirghāta ascribed to Advayavajra Hurvitz transcribes as follows (his question marks): piśāca (?) kamalamukhakamalalocanaṃ kamalalasanaṃ kamalaghāsata (?) kamalavamuni (?) kamalakamalasaṃbhavakamalahṛṣalā namaḥ stuti (?). In note 72 he remarks, “The mantra is not pure Sanskrit to begin with, and the Chinese transcription is very uncertain, to say nothing of possible copyists’ errors. The whole thing is made only worse by my romanization.” 31 Gregory Sharkey, Buddhist Daily Ritual: The Nitya Puja in Kathmandu Valley Shrines, Bangkok: Orchid Press, 2001. The two texts are given in Sanskrit with English translation at pp. 304–305. Dānabalena comes from the six verses at the end of the Aparimitāyuḥsūtra: see Duan Qing, Das Khotanische Aparimitāyuḥsūtra, Ausgabe, Kommentar, Übersetzung und Glossar, Studien zur Indologie und Iranistik, Dissertationen Band 3 (Reinbek: Dr. Inge Wezler, Verlag für Orientalische Fachpublikationen, n.d); English tr. from Sanskrit as “A Sūtra for Long Life” by Jonathan Silk, in Donald S. Lopez, Jr. (ed.), Buddhist Scriptures, London: Penguin Books, 2004, Chapter 47; Richard Payne, Pacific World, Third Series, No. 9 (Fall 2007). The Aparimitā-dhāraṇī is also recited: cp. Sharkey, Buddhist Daily Ritual, p. 301 with Duan Qing, Das Khotanische Aparimitāyuḥsūtra, p. 133. 32 Sharkey, Buddhist Daily Ritual, p. 100. 33 Sharkey, Buddhist Daily Ritual, n. 58, notes the variant mahattame. 34 Banārsī Lāl, “Durlabh Granth Paricaya,” in Dhīḥ – Durlabh bauddha granth śodh patrikā, 46 (2008), p. 13 (full article pp. 7–14). 30

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(ca. 11th century).35 The verse is also quoted in the Ādikarmāvatāra of Mañjukīrti. The date of the author is not clear, but is probably not earlier than the 10th century.36 namo buddhāya gurave namo dharmāya tāyine | namaḥ saṃghāya mahate tribhyo ’pi satataṃ namaḥ || 1 ratnatrayaṃ me śaraṇaṃ sarvaṃ pratidiśāmy agham | anumode jagatpuṇyaṃ buddhabodhau dadhe manaḥ || 2 ā bodheḥ śaraṇaṃ yāmi buddhaṃ dharmaṃ gaṇottamam | bodhau cittaṃ karomy eṣa svaparārthaprasiddhaye || 3 The three jewels are my refuge. I confess every fault. I rejoice in the merit of everyone in the world; I focus my mind on awakening as a Buddha. Up until [I achieve] awakening I take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Supreme Community. I set my mind on awakening – for the accomplishment of benefit for my own self and for [all] other [sentient beings].

The namo buddhāya verse is also incorporated into the Nityakarmapūjāvidhi, a manual for daily rites and liturgies from Nepal.37

The Balinese tradition A Balinese version of the stanza was published in 1933 by Sylvain Lévi:38 namo buddhāya gurave, namo dharmāya tāyine namaḥ saṅghāya mahate, tribhyo ’pi satataṃ namaḥ

The stanza is embedded in a long liturgy called Buddhavedaḥ, which includes declarations of homage to the five Jinas, mantra-dhāraṇī, and so on. No specific context is given, but Lévi remarks that “the stotras (or stavas) preserved in Bali are not detached pieces of secular poetry; they are regular parts of the ritual.”39 Ācāryaḥ Paṃ. Advayabajra kṛta Gurumaṇḍalārcana Pustakam, nepāla bhāṣā sahita cvayā pikāhn, Paṃ, Vai. Ākāśākājī Bajrācārya, U.B. Priṇṭing Pres, Lalitpur, NS 1109 [1989], pp. 35–36; Ṭh.R. Śāśanī, “Advayavajraviracitagranthadvayam, Kudṛṣṭinirghātanaṃ Kudṛṣṭinirghātavākyaṭippaṇikā ca (grantha-paricay),” Dhīḥ, Journal of Rare Buddhist Texts Research, 54 (2014), pp. 165–207 (citation on p. 191, v. 14). See also David Gellner, “Ritualized Devotion, Altruism, and Meditation: The offering of the guru maṇḍala in Newar Buddhism,” Indo-Iranian Journal 34 (1991), p. 182. 36 I cite here the reading of a draft critical edition from NSUB Göttingen Xc 14/50, line 10r4 of the manuscript as it reads, with no corrections other than standardisations, by Péter-Dániel Szántó and Alexander von Rospatt. I thank them for their generosity in giving me permission to publish this from their forthcoming study and edition. 37 ‘Nityakarmapūjāvidhiḥ’, Dhīḥ, p. 159.5. 38 Sylvain Lévi, Sanskrit Texts from Bali, Baroda, 1933, p. 79.3. 39 Lévi, Sanskrit Texts from Bali, p. xxi. 35

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Reflections on liturgical intertextuality There is no doubt that the different sources quoted here contain the same verse, with only minor differences.40 When we compare these versions, we can conclude that the Khmer inscription K. 888 is bilingual, in Sanskrit and Khmer. Unfortunately the short Khmer sentence at the end is damaged, resulting in a lacuna. Who is the figure that holds up the inscription? Is he a monk, a king, or a royal devotee? From the front, he appears to be a monk, sitting cross-legged with a saṃghāṭi folded ritually over his left shoulder. From the side (Figure 1b), however, he rather resembles the famous “portrait sculptures” of Jayavarman VII. Is the verse homage to the three jewels an integral part of Mātṛceṭa’s Triratnastotra? Or is it, as Hartmann suggests, “obviously common Buddhist property,”41 and hence extraneous to the main work? The verse is short, but it has been enduring and it has travelled far. Jinaputra describes it as “an abbreviated encomium” (bstod pa mdor gsungs pa) and explains that the text that follows (the Triratnastotra properly speaking) has been written by Ācārya Mātṛceṭa “as an enlargement.” The verse is equivalent to the formula: oṃ namo buddhāya namo dharmāya namo saṃghāya Oṃ, homage to the Buddha, homage to the Dharma, homage to the Saṅgha.

or to the condensed version, oṃ namo ratnatrāyaya Oṃ, homage to the three jewels.

Namo buddhāya is widely used in the formulas of “Theravādin” Southeast Asia, particularly in Siam and Cambodia, where, in liturgy, each of the five syllables is assigned to one of the five Buddhas of the Auspicious Aeon, or, in the meditation (kammaṭṭhāna) tradition, is correlated with one of the five stages of bliss (pīti), the five precepts, the five elements, and so on.42 The other two formulas, namo dharmāya and namo saṅghāya, are apparently not used independently. The variation tāyin/trāyin/ is old and not uncommon. See e.g. Franklin Edgerton, Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit Grammar and Dictionary, Vol. II: Dictionary, [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953] Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1972, pp. 251–252. One of the earliest mentions might be that in E. Burnouf, Introduction à l’histoire du bouddhisme indien, Deuxième Édition, Paris: Maisonneuve et Cie, 1876, p. 202, n. 1, with reference to the Karaṇḍavyūha; for a thorough examination, see Gustav Roth, “‘A Saint like That’ and ‘A Saviour’ in Prakrit, Pali, Sanskrit and Tibetan Literature,” in Heinz Bechert and Petra Kieffer-Pülz (eds.), Indian Studies: Selected Papers of Gustav Roth, Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1986 (Bibliotheca Buddhica No. 32), pp. 91–107 (originally published in Shri Mahavira Jaina Vidyalaya Golden Jubilee Volume, Part 1, Bombay, 1968, pp. 46–62). 41 Hartmann, “The Triratnastotra,” p. 181. 42 See for example Fragile Palm Leaves: for the preservation of Buddhist literature, No. 5, May 2542/1999, pp. 3, 12. 40

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The namo buddhāya verse is associated with the two verses cited above in numerous ritual manuals and anthologies. The verses summarise the foundational practices of Mahāyāna: refuge (śaraṇa), confession of misdeeds (pāpadeśanā), rejoicing in other’s merit (puṇyānumodanā), liturgical aspiration to awakening (bodhicitta). As preliminary practices, they are the foundation of Tantric practice and are incorporated into works of the masters Anupamavajra, Kokadatta, Jagaddarpaṇa, Tatakaragupta, and others.43 The verses seem to have circulated widely in the Pāla realms, including at the great monastic centre of Vikramaśila, and in the Kathmandu Valley. In some cases the verses are associated with Hevajra sādhanas. On the evidence largely of iconography, Hevajra practices were widespread in Cambodia in the 11th to 12th centuries, the period during which they became prominent in Tibet. Liturgies travel with ordination lineages – with teaching, meditation, practice, ritual, and initiation lineages. They are carried in the human memory and do not (necessarily) require written supports. The transmission of liturgies and associated ceremonies is not linear or fixed; selections and collections of verses were transmitted in interlinking and intertextual cycles. We have examples of the Namo buddhāya verse from the North India of the Pāla domains, from Nepal, Cambodia, Bali, and China. Further research into the tangle of verses is a desideratum. I will not be at all surprised if more examples of the Namo buddhāya and associated verses are found in other Sanskrit ritual and liturgical texts. This study gives a glimpse of a short, and simple, liturgical verse that was used across Asia for centuries, and that in the Newar tradition is recited to this day. The possible connection of the brief formula with Mātṛceṭa is tantalising, since it recalls Yijing’s assertion of the importance of Mātṛceṭa’s hymns “in all the five parts of India.”44 It is regrettable that the academic study of Buddhist liturgy is nearly non-existent, to the degree that it would be an exaggeration even to say that it is weak. For Khmer culture in the pre-Theravāda period, there is one single Avalokiteśvara that has oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ inscribed on the back.45 The hospitals erected by Jayavarman VII presuppose liturgies dedicated to Bhaiṣajyaguru and to the two attendant Bodhisatvas, Sūryaprabha and Candraprabha, statues of whom, according to the inscriptions, were placed in each of the hospitals. The ārogyaśālā inscriptions open with namo buddhāya in a verse formula of homage to the trikāya, namo vuddhāya nirmmāṇe, dharmasāṃbhogamūrttaye. The complex iconographies of bodhisatvas and tantric deities must have had their own liturgies and ritual settings; for example, Hevajra inscriptions open with their own statements of homage. Little work seems to have been done on Newar liturgy, which also has diverse connections. If dānabalena is from Aparimitāyuḥ-sūtra, if the formula ādau kalyāṇaṃ I am grateful to Péter-Dániel Szántó for these and other references, often from unpublished manuscript sources. 44 See Li Rongxi (tr.), Buddhist Monastic Traditions of Southern Asia: A Record of the Inner Law Sent Home from the South Seas by Śramaṇa Yijing, Berkeley: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research, 2000, pp. 140–142. 45 Peter Skilling, “An Oṃ maṇipadme Hūṃ Inscription from South-East Asia,” Aséanie 11 (June 2003), pp. 13–20. 43

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madhye kalyāṇaṃ paryavasāne kalyāṇaṃ46 is an ancient module, if the verse adya me saphalaṃ janma (Sharkey p. 303) has numerous resonances in the Epics and in Tantras, these are just easy examples. Newar liturgy is an intricate intertextual weave, as indeed are the liturgies of other Buddhist cultures. The fragment studied here shows that the liturgists of Cambodia once joined in a chorus that was sung across Asia. Let us hope that the orant of Kompong Svay has not been holding his message of homage up entirely in vain. A replica – a nirmāṇakāya? – has recently been set up in the lounge of the Siem Reap airport (Figure 11).

Figure 11a, 11b. Replica of stone figure from Kompong Svay: Siem Reap International Airport. Photo courtesy of Christophe Pottier, EFEO, May 2012.

Appendix: Commentary on Triratnastotra by Jinaputra // rgya gar skad du / tri ratna sto stra bhi ti (!) / bod skad du / dkon mchog gsum pa la bstod pa’i ’grel pa / bcom ldan ’das ’jam dpal gzhon nur gyur pa la phyag tshal lo // s(r)id pa gsum pa’i bla ma dkon mchog gsum la phyag ’tshal ba la sogs pa ni ’gro ba rnams kyi mngon par ’dod pa’i ’bras bu mtha’ dag bskyed pa’i rgyu yin pas na de’i phyir de dag la phyag ’tshal ba / sangs rgyas gtso la phyag ’tshal lo zhes bya ba la sogs pa gsungs te / ma ’dres pa dang mtshungs par ldan pa’i ma rig pa dag ma lus par spangs pa ni sangs pa ste / gnyid rab tu sangs pa bzhin no // yang na nyon mongs pa can ma yin pa’i mi shes pa spangs pas shes bya mtha’ dag la blo rgyas pas rgyas pa ste / padma rab tu rgyas pa lta bu’o // de ltar de dag ni spangs pa dang / ye shes phun sum tshogs pas bstod pa ste / nyid kyi don phun sum tshogs pa’o // gzhan gyi don phun sum tshogs pa’i dbang du byas te / gtso zhes smos pa las sa gsum dbang phyug chen por gyur pas na gtso bo ste / de dag ma lus pa gnon pas lci bar gyur pa ni / gzugs la la lci bar gyur pa na srang gi mgo mnon pa lta bu’o // des ni thams cad zil gyis mnan nas ’dul zhes bstan par ’gyur ro // yang na phyin ci ma log pa’i yon tan rin po che sbyin pas na bla ma ste / de la phyag ’tsal lo zhes bya ba ni sgo gsum gyis rab tu ’dud pa’o // 46

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skyob pa chos la phyag ’tshal lo zhes bya ba ni / ’dis ngan ’gro dang srid par sdug bsngal ba las skyob cing sdug bsngal sel la bde la sbyin [123b] pas na skyob pa zhes bya’o // de nyid kyis na chos te rnam par ltung ba las ’dzin pas so // de yang gis don dam pa’i chos de rtogs nas / slar ngan song dang ’khor bar mi ltung ba’i phyir ro // de rtogs pa’i rgyud pa’i rgyu ni bstan pa’i chos yin la / dngos kyi rgyu ni lam kyi chos yin pas de dag la ’ang btags te ’dzin pa zhes brjod do // yang na skyob pa zhes bya bas ni gzhan la phan ’dogs pa phun sum tshogs pa bstan la / chos zhes bya ba bas ni rang gi mtshan nyid rnam par dag pa ’dzin pa phun sum tshogs pa bstan to // de la phyag ’tshal lo zhes bya ba ni snga ma bzhin no // dge ’dun che la phyag ’tshal lo zhe bya ba la /

Dedication I dedicate this article to Hubert Durt, who loves the mysteries of iconography and letters, whose enthusiasm has inspired him to visit the countries mentioned here more than once, and whose curiosity embraces the wide range of the sources studied here – and much more.

References Bajrācārya, Ākāśākājī. Ācāryaḥ Paṃ. Advayabajra kṛta Gurumaṇḍalārcana Pustakam, nepāla bhāṣā sahita cvayā pikāhn, Paṃ, Vai. U.B. Priṇṭing Pres, Lalitpur, NS 1109 [1989]. Banārsī Lāl. “Durlabh Granth Paricaya,” in Dhīḥ – Durlabh bauddha granth śodh patrikā, 46 (2008), pp. 7–14. Burnouf, E. Introduction à l’histoire du bouddhisme indien. Deuxième Édition. Paris: Maisonneuve et Cie, 1876. Cœdès, George. Inscriptions du Cambodge VIII. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 1966, pp. 210–11. Cœdès, George. “La plus ancienne inscription en pāli du Cambodge.” Repr. in George Cœdès, Articles sur le pays khmer, Paris, École française d’Extrême-Orient,1989, pp. 282–289 (originally published BEFEO XXXVI, pp 1–21). Dalsheimer, Nadine. Les collections du musée national de Phnom Penh. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 2001. Duan Qing (ed.). Das Khotanische Aparimitāyuḥsūtra, Ausgabe, Kommentar, Übersetzung und Glossar. Studien zur Indologie und Iranistik, Dissertationen Band 3 (Reinbek: Dr. Inge Wezler, Verlag für Orientalische Fachpublikationen, n.d). Edgerton, Franklin. Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit Grammar and Dictionary. Vol. II: Dictionary, [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953] Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1972. Garnier, Pierre, Guy Nafilyan, Christian Cres, and Jacqueline Nafilyan. L’art khmer en situation de reserve/Khmer Art in reserve. Marseille: Éditions Européennes Marseille – Provence & Arts et Expressions Marseille – Provence, 1997. Gellner, David: “Ritualized Devotion, Altruism, and Meditation: The offering of the  guru maṇḍala in Newar Buddhism.” Indo-Iranian Journal 34 (1991), pp. 161–197. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Hahn, Michael (tr.). Invitation to Enlightenment: Letter to the Great King Kaniṣka by Mātṛceṭa [and] Letter to a Disciple by Candragomin. Berkeley: Dharma Publishing, 1999. Hartmann, Jens-Uwe (ed., tr.). Das Varṇārhavarṇastotra des Mātṛceṭa. Göttingen (Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen No. 160). Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987. Hartmann, Jens-Uwe. “The Triratnastotra ascribed to Mātṛceṭa.” In Helga Uebach and Jampa L. Panglung, (eds.), Tibetan Studies: Proceedings of the 4th Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Schloss Hohenkammer-Munich 1985 (Studia Tibetica: Quellen und Studien zur tibetischcn Lexikographie, Band II), Munich: Kommission für Zentralasiatische Studien, Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1988, pp. 177–184. Hartmann, Jens-Uwe. “Neues zum Varṇārhavarṇa.” In Martin Straube et al. (eds.), Pāsādikadānam: Festschrift für Bhikkhu Pāsādika, Marburg: Indica et Tibetica Verlag, 2009 (Indica et Tibetica, 52), pp. 229–241. Hurvitz, Leon. “Hsüan-tsang (602–664) and the Heart Scripture.” In Lewis Lancaster (ed.), Prajñāpāramitā and Related Systems. Studies in Honour of Edward Conze. Berkeley 1977 (Berkeley Buddhist Series 1), pp. 103–121. Jinaputra (rGyal ba’i sras). Triratnastotravṛtti. Peking edition of the Tibetan Kanjur No. 2036, Vol. 46, ka 123r1–128v8. Lévi, Sylvain. Bālidvīpagranthāḥ / Sanskrit Texts from Bali. Baroda: Oriental Institute (Gaekwad’s Oriental Series No. LXVII), 1933. Li Rongxi (tr.). Buddhist Monastic Traditions of Southern Asia: A Record of the Inner Law Sent Home from the South Seas by Śramaṇa Yijing. Berkeley: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research, 2000. Mātṛceṭa. Triratnastotra / dKon mchog gsum la bstod pa. Peking edition of the Tibetan Tanjur No. 2035, Vol. 46, ka 122v4–123r1. Mauger, Henri. “Práḥ Khằn de Koṃpoṅ Svày.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient XXXIX (1939), p. 212. Payne, Richard K. “Aparimitāyus: ‘Tantra’ and ‘Pure Land’ in Medieval Indian Buddhism?” Pacific World, Third Series, No. 9 (Fall 2007), pp. 273–308. Piriya Krairiksh. Rak ngao haeng sinlapa Thai. Bangkok: River Books, 2553 [2010]. Pou, Saveros. Nouvelles inscriptions du Cambodge I. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 1989. Python, Pierre. Vinaya-viniścaya-upāli-praipṛcchā. Enquête d’Upāli pir une exégèse de la discipline. Traduit du sanscrit, du tibétain et du chinois, avec introduction, édition critique des fragments sanscrits et de la version tibétaine, notes et glossaires. En appendice: texte et traduction de T 1582, I, et du Sugatapañcatriṃśatastotra de Mātṛceṭa. Paris: Adrien-Maissoneuve, 1973 (Collection Jean Przyluski, Tome V). Roth, Gustav. “‘A Saint like That’ and ‘A Saviour’ in Prakrit, Pali, Sanskrit and Tibetan Literature.” In Heinz Bechert and Petra Kieffer-Pülz (eds.), Indian Studies: Selected Papers of Gustav Roth, Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1986 (Bibliotheca Buddhica No. 32), pp. 91–107. Ruegg, David Seyfort. “Autour du Lta ba’i khyad par de Ye shes sde.” In David Seyfort Ruegg, The Buddhist Philosophy of the Middle: Essays on Indian and Tibetan Madhyamaka, Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2010, pp. 267–287. (originally published in Journal asiatique, Année 1981, pp. 207–229). Samten, Ngawang and Janardan Pandey (ed.). ‘Nityakarmapūjāvidhiḥ.’ Dhīḥ Journal of Rare Buddhist Texts Research 33 (2002), pp. 155–166. Śāśanī, Ṭh.R. (ed.). “Advayavajraviracitagranthadvayam, Kudṛṣṭinirgātinaṃ Kudṛṣṭinirghātavākkyaṭippaṇikā ca (grantha-paricay).” Dhīḥ, Journal of Rare Buddhist Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Texts Research, 54 (2014), pp. 165–207. Sharkey, Gregory. Buddhist Daily Ritual: The Nitya Puja in Kathmandu Valley Shrines. Bangkok: Orchid Press, 2001. Silk, Jonathan (tr.). “A Sūtra for Long Life.” In Donald S. Lopez, Jr. (ed.), Buddhist Scriptures, London: Penguin Books, 2004, Chap. 47. Skilling, Peter. Mahāsūtras: Great Discourses of the Buddha. Vol. II, Parts I & II. Oxford: The Pali Text Society, 1997 (Sacred Books of the Buddhists XLVI). Skilling, Peter. “An Oṃ maṇipadme Hūṃ Inscription from South-East Asia.” Aséanie 11 (June 2003), pp. 13–20. Snellgrove, David. Angkor – Before and After: A Cultural History of the Khmers. Bangkok: Orchid Press, 2004. Subhadra Subhadradis, MC. Pratimakam khom. Bangkok, 2515. Ye shes sde (Jñānasena). Sangs rgyas gtso bo’i rgya cher ’grel pa. Peking edition of the Tibetan Tanjur No. 5848, Vol. 145, tsho 269v7–274r1. Zeffreys, Marlene L., Nicholas S. Zeffreys, and Jeffrey Stone. Heaven and Empire: Khmer Bronzes from the 9th to the 15th Centuries. Bangkok: White Lotus, 2001.

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An Early Dutch Map Depicting the Arrival of a Diplomatic Mission in Siam Barend Jan Terwiel

Abstract—A painted map from a collection in the Baden State Library appears to depict the arrival of a Dutch diplomatic mission in Siam in 1628—an event which is described in a lengthy eyewitness account in the VOC records. The map displays seven separate scenes showing the sequence of the mission’s arrival in the Chaophraya River. The correspondence between the text and the map suggests that the map was inspired by the text. This article examines the likely provenance of the map and how it came to be lodged in a German State Library.

The map The sixth volume of the Comprehensive Atlas of the Dutch United East India Company, East Asia, Burma to Japan, published in October 2010, reproduces an anonymous map (Figure 1), titled “Chart of the lower course of the Chao Phraya from its mouth to Bangkok,” dated by the authors of the atlas to 1635–1640.1 The original, which is part of the Gijsels collection in the Baden State Library (Badische Landesbibliothek) in Karlsruhe, measures 40 x 53.5 cm and can be seen in high resolution on the Internet.2 During his lifetime (1593–1676), Aernout Gijsels collected many materials relating to the Dutch East India Company (“VOC”) for his private use. The authors of the atlas suggest that the map depicts a VOC delegation to Siam, but they do not identify the event or have any information on the creation of the map. During the first half of the 17th century there were four VOC diplomatic missions sent to Siam, each of them carrying a letter and presents from the Dutch Stadholder, Prince Frederick Henry, to the King of Siam. Figure 1 (overleaf). Chart of the lower course of the Chao Phraya from its mouth to Bangkok. Gijsels Collection, Baden State Library, Karlsruhe 1

J. Gommans and R. van Diessen, Comprehensive Atlas of the Dutch United East India Company, East Asia, Burma to Japan, Volume VII (Asia Maior in collaboration with Royal Dutch Geographical Society, Netherlands National Archives, and Utrecht University, Faculty of Geosciences, 2010), p. 61. In the Karlsruhe catalogue the map is dated between 1630 and 1640. 2 Catalogued as K 478 fol. 56. The city of Karlsruhe was the capital of the former Kingdom of Baden, which between 1881 and 1945, became the federal State of Baden and since then a territory in the Federal State of Baden-Württemberg. See www.atlasofmutualheritage.nl/nl/VogelvluchtBangkok.6555. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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The first of these missions arrived at the bar of the Chaophraya River in late August 1628 with a letter from the Prince for King Songtham (r. 1610/11–1628). Two ships, the Mauritius and the Zuid Holland, had left Batavia (now Jakarta) on 26 July 1628 with William Cunningham as envoy,3 but after Cunningham died, aged 38, on 14 August, the senior merchant Adriaen de Marees and the merchant Joost Schouten took over responsibility of delivering the Prince’s letter and presents.4 The second mission started from Batavia in April 1633 with Jan Joosten de Roij as envoy, bringing a letter and presents from the Dutch Stadholder for the Siamese King.5 De Roij took it upon himself to carry the letter straight to the Dutch lodge, causing consternation among those familiar with Siamese etiquette. He was obliged to return the letter secretly to the ship, so that it could be placed upon a proper ceremonial barge and transported again to Ayutthaya.6 Schouten, who had recently been appointed as “opperhoofd” (director) of the Dutch lodge with the rank of chief merchant, once more took part in the formal presentation at the court. The Siamese let the Dutch know that royal letters, such as those sent from Siam to the Netherlands, were written on a sheet of gold and that the Dutch should follow this practice.7 On the third mission in 1636,8 when a letter and presents from Frederick Henry were sent to King Prasatthong, with Schouten as the single envoy, the Stadholder’s letter was indeed written on a sheet of gold.9 As presents, the Stadholder sent “a gold imperial crown, garnished with emeralds and a damascened sword inlaid with gold.” This sounds most impressive, but privately Schouten noted that “if the crown had been of a pyramid 3

J.E. Heeres (ed.), Dagh-Register gehouden int Casteel Batavia vant passerende daer ter plaetse als over geheel Nederlandts-India, Anno 1624-1629 (’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1896), p. 340. 4 Ibid., p. 340. William Cunningham, of Scots ancestry, was born in 10 May 1590 in Veere. He joined the VOC in 1612, and when his contract expired on 3 July 1620, he was persuaded to add another three years as Senior Merchant with a salary of 75 guilders per month. After repatriation in 1623, he joined the West Indian Company, but probably in 1626 returned to the East Indian Company. Cunningham had a daughter, (born of a Siamese mother in 1617) named Fransyna (Cunningham’s mother was Fransyncken Borselaers). See H.T. Colenbrander (ed.), Jan Pietersz. Coen. Bescheiden omtrent zijn bedrijf in Indië, Part 3 (’s-Gravenhage, Martinus Nijhoff, 1921), p. 677; and H. den Heijer, Expeditie naar de Goudkust: Het journaal van Jan Dircksz Lam (Zutphen: Walburg, 2006), pp. 47-49. 5 I have omitted the mission of 1632 when Anthonij Caen took a letter and presents from the VOC Governor-General for King Prasatthong. Since this mission lacked a missive from the Dutch Stadholder, it was treated by the Siamese as if it were from an “inferior” ruler. See Dhiravat na Pombejra, Siamese Court Life in the Seventeenth Century as depicted in European Sources (Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University Press, 2001), p. 113. 6 Bhawan Ruangsilp, Dutch East India Company Merchants at the Court of Ayutthaya: Dutch Perceptions of the Thai Kingdom, c.1604–1765 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), pp. 62-63. 7 An English translation of the Stadholder’s letter can be seen in Records of the relations between Siam and foreign countries in the 17th century, Vol 2, Bangkok, 1917, pp. 1-3. 8 As a result of this mission, a contract between the two countries was prepared, in which the export duties for a large number of Siamese products were specified. See J.K.J. de Jonge, “Overzigt der betrekkingen van de Nederlandsche Oost-Indische Compagnie met Siam”, in Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, Vol. 13, 1864, pp. 440-446. 9 Bhawan, Dutch East India Company Merchants, pp. 64-65. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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shape, and the sword more richly gilt, they would have been still more pleasing to his Majesty.”10 On 2 October 1636, Schouten was granted an audience and was suitably rewarded for his role in the matter. The fourth mission took place in 1641 with “opperhoofd” Jeremias van Vliet as envoy. The ceremony was interrupted several times and King Prasatthong did not send a return letter to the Prince of Orange, thereby ending the regular exchange.11 Shortly after the mission of 1628, Schouten wrote a detailed account of the event. This text helps to identify which mission is shown in the map, and suggests how the map may have been created.

The text: Joost Schouten’s Uytloopich Verhael Schouten’s account12 is entitled “Uytloopich Verhael, in hoedaeniger wijse de missive ende geschencken van den doorluchtichsten Prince van Orangien aen den Coninck van Chiam in den jare 1628 behandicht, ende overgelevert zijn,” meaning “Detailed account of the way in which the letter and gifts from the illustrious Prince of Orange were handed over to the King of Siam in 1628”. It was first noted by George Vinal Smith in his seminal work on the VOC trading office in Ayutthaya.13 Han ten Brummelhuis also quoted from the document and Bhawan Ruangsilp summarized the whole report. Schouten provided details of the complex process of translating Prince Frederick Henry’s letter into Siamese and its presentation to King Songtham, which he witnessed. He also described the ceremonial transport of the letter to Ayutthaya. This part of the text may have been the inspiration for the creation of the map: In the beginning of September both ships with the letter from the Prince arrived at the mouth of the Siamese river and its arrival and the death of the envoy were announced to the Phrakhlang (the king’s minister for all foreign affairs). The letter from the Governor General to introduce the envoy Cunningham to the Phrakhlang was also handed over, and it was immediately translated in Siamese… …In accordance with the recommendation of the Honourable GovernorGeneral the Phrakhlang took the matter in hand. After he had informed the King of all this he appointed the Merchant Adriaen de Marees and myself, Joost Schouten, Sub-Merchant…. to bring the letter of the Prince from the ship with all customary respect. At the same time, he sent a command to the Mandarins of the villages that were situated downriver from the capital that they should pay proper respect to it [the letter]. 10

C.R. Boxer (ed.), A True Description of the Mighty Kingdoms of Japan and Siam by François Caron and Joost Schouten, reprinted from the English edition of 1663 (London: Argonaut, 1935), Appendix 1, p. 141. 11 Details of the Van Vliet mission in Bhawan, Dutch East India Company Merchants, pp. 68-70. 12 Catalogued as ARA VOC 1098 in the Dutch National Archives in The Hague. 13 G.V. Smith, The Dutch in Seventeenth-Century Thailand (De Kalb, Northern Illinois: Centre for Southeast Asian Studies Special Report 16, 1977), p. 155. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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After the Phrakhlang had given his orders we all together sailed away, and arrived at Bangkok. This is a little town some fourteen miles south of the capital. Its Governor made available two long rowing boats, one for the Princely letter, and one for himself. This Governor is one of the most important persons of the kingdom, son of the old King of Phatthalung and married to the sole heiress of the Kingdom of Pattani (but expelled from there because of partisanship and jealousy). Together with these long rowing boats we sailed further down to Ban Chaophraya at the mouth of the river. Then the letter … was placed in a small case, under a cover of red cloth and handed over to the King’s long rowing boat where it was placed in a round, red elevated small house with silken curtains on all sides. As soon as the letter was handed over, wind instruments and drums began playing and the journey upwards began, together with the long rowing boat of the Bangkok Governor, who sat under a silken tent, and also ourselves sitting under a red tent in a long black prow, manned by thirty rowers, flying the Prince’s flag. Our interpreter sat in a similar, but slightly smaller prow, and the other Siamese commissioners followed behind the letter up until Bangkok. There accompanied by the sound of many wind instruments and drums the letter was transferred to the beautiful long prow of the King, with fifty rowers, where it was placed under a gilded small house. Twelve of the grandest and most important persons from Bangkok, each one in a long paddle-prow, accompanied it up river, so that by that time we were sixteen prows and around 400 persons in all. During the journey upriver, all up- and downcoming vessels stopped until the letter and its retinue had passed.

This memorandum was Schouten’s first lengthy report to his superiors. He was to write other lengthy reports on Japan and Siam,14 during a brilliant career.

The map and the text The map, drawn from a bird’s-eye perspective, is in two segments on a single sheet of paper. On the lower part, looking from left to right, it depicts two large ships and five sloops, all festooned with Dutch flags. I suggest this represents several scenes from the arrival of the diplomatic mission at the Lower Chaophraya River. Apparently the artist assumed that the mission went immediately to Ban Chaophraya, a customs station not far from the mouth of the river where those entering Siam from the Gulf were required to present themselves.15 14

Five years later he submitted a study on Japan. See L. Blussé, “Justus Schouten en de Japanse gijzeling“, Nederlandse historische bronnen, 5 (1985), pp 69-75. 15 Gijsbert Heeck calls it “a small village at the mouth of the river where all in- and out-going shipping must halt on the king’s order and pay toll”. Gijsbert Heeck, A Traveler in Siam in the Year 1655: Extracts from the Journal of Gijsbert Heeck, trans. B.J. Terwiel, Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2008, p. 37. The two VOC ships, anchored outside the bar were still reckoned to be outside Siam. This was confirmed in August 1655 in the aftermath of a Dutch attempt to take three Portuguese vessels. Ibid. pp. 29-35. However, it ought to be noted that Van Nijenrode explicitly Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 2. The first page of Schouten’s Uytloopich Verhael

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The upper part of the map is again intended to be viewed from left to right. On the left three sloops are being rowed downriver. This must have been when Schouten’s party, after traveling upriver to Bangkok to send a message to the Phrakhlang, returned downriver to Ban Chaophraya to begin the ceremonial procession with the letter. Further to the right of the picture, four sloops are shown moored on the eastern bank of the river. The letter is then transferred to four Siamese state barges, festooned with the Dutch flag. These take the letter to Bangkok. Finally, to the far right we see the ceremonial boat procession moving towards the capital Ayutthaya. The two sequences do not necessarily represent what actually occurred, but rather what artists in a Dutch atelier thought happened. Essentially it is an artistic creation by craftsmen who were unfamiliar with Southeast Asian etiquette. It is suggested here that Schouten’s report must have provided the inspiration for the map’s creation. In the following paragraphs the picture and sections of Schouten’s text are juxtaposed. At the left of the lower panel, two beautifully drawn VOC trading ships are riding at anchor outside the mouth of the Chaophraya River (Figure 3). The ships are festooned with red, white and blue Dutch flags, their gun ports are open, and their cannons are firing salutes in various directions. Both ships are drawn with a rampant lion as bowsprit. In the early 17th century a crouching red lion with a golden mane was the standard bowsprit on large VOC ships. The two ships are not identical. While the upper ship has ten guns on each side, the lower ship has eleven. On the lower ship the distance between the Figure 3. The first scene: arrival at the river mouth mainmast and mizzenmast is greater. According to Schouten’s Uytloopich Verhael, the mission of 1628 had two VOC ships, the Mauritius weighing 800 tons and the Zuid Holland only 600 tons. This difference accords with the depiction on the map. The second scene shows four sloops approaching the mouth of the river, sailing in two-by-two formation, each with a foresail and a main (Figure Figure 4. The second scene: “we all together sailed away” states that in his time (he resided in Siam from 1617 to 1621) the first toll station was Bangkok. See C. van Nijenrode, “Vertoog van de Gelegenheid des Koningrijks van Siam“, Kroniek van het Historisch Genootschap Gevestigd te Utrecht, Vol 27, 1871, p. 230. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

An Early Dutch Map

Figure 5. Entering the mouth of the river

Figure 6. “... we sailed further down to Ban Chaophraya at the mouth of the river”

Figure 7. The four sloops moored south of Bangkok

Figure 8. The four barges with Dutch flags

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4). Perhaps this scene was inspired by Schouten’s words, “we all together sailed away.” All four sloops are also firing cannon to front and rear. The upper two sloops have a canopy in the stern, perhaps sheltering the missive and presents. Apart from the ubiquitous Dutch flags, the upper front sloop also flies pennants, indicating perhaps that it is the principal vessel carrying the prince’s letter. To the right of this scene, a single sloop is shown entering the mouth of the Chaophraya River, again displaying Dutch flags and firing cannon from both front and back (Figure 5). Perhaps this indicates the approach to the toll station where the letter and presents were to be deposited during the time the two merchants contacted the Phrakhlang. Therefore, we may assume that the small number of houses drawn on the eastern bank of the river represents Ban Chaophraya. The word “Siam” is prominently displayed. The upper panel of the map shows a stretch of the Chaophraya River. Once more the sequence begins at the left side, where three Dutch sloops are shown rowing downriver (Figure 6). This can be linked with the sentence “we sailed further down to Ban Chaophraya at the mouth of the river.” Moving to the right on this upper panel, we find two scenes. The first of these shows four sloops moored on the eastern bank of the river (Figure 7). The second shows one Dutch sloop (at lower left, with masts), stil with a canopy at the stern, and three Siamese barges, each adorned with the Dutch flag and with a canopied shelter amidships (Figure 8). This shows the transfer of the missive and presents to the boats

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Figure 9. The boat procession to Ayutthaya

that the Bangkok governor had made available. Finally, we see a flotilla of Siamese rowed barges (Figure 9). The rearmost of these has a golden-coloured roofed shelter; this coincides with what Schouten wrote: There accompanied by the sound of many wind instruments and drums the letter was transferred to the beautiful long prow of the King, with fifty rowers, where it was placed under a gilded small house.

I have thus shown that the artist has presented the progression of the Dutch letter in seven separate stages of its voyage. Schouten knew that a royal letter had to arrive in proper ceremonial fashion. Hence his party left the precious objects at the first toll station while he proceeded upriver to Bangkok from where a message was sent to inform the Phrakhlang. Then the matter was taken out of their hands. In reality, they returned to Ban Chaophraya together with two barges, provided by the Governor of Bangkok. This small flotilla transported the Prince’s letter and presents upriver to Bangkok, where a new transfer took place, this time to a proper procession of sixteen ceremonial Siamese barges. The artist of the map seems to have misunderstood the intermediary role of Bangkok’s Governor and has depicted the first transfer taking place between Ban Chaophraya and Bangkok. Since Schouten’s account mentions the way the letter arrived with two ships of different size, the intermediary role of the Phrakhlang, the governor of Bangkok providing vessels, and the transfer to a proper boat procession, it seems more than likely that his Uytloopich Verhael inspired the unknown artists to create this painting, though they may have misunderstood the ceremonial procedure.

Aernout Gijsels and the VOC How did this Dutch map come to be part of the Gijsels collection in a German State Museum? Aernout Gijsels was born in 1593 in the Dutch municipality of IJsselstein. He came from a well-connected family and received a good education. At the age of eighteen, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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he signed up with the VOC16 as assistant-factor. His first posting was in Hitu, a town on the Moluccan Island of Ambon, where the Dutch at that time had established their main commercial centre.17 In 1615 he was promoted to merchant and two years later, at the age of 25, to senior merchant, still residing in Hitu.18 In 1618 he became secondin-command to Herman van Speult, the new Governor of Amboina. He returned for the first time to the Netherlands in 1620 as commander of three homebound VOC ships.19 From the money that he had regularly transferred he bought an estate, now calling himself Gijsels van Lier. In 1627 he was appointed, together with Jan Hochepied, to prepare a statement of accounts of the VOC for all their Dutch shareholders. This must have provided him with a unique insight into the complex organization of the VOC. Upon completion of this task, he was appointed in 1628 as Councillor of the Indies, and upon his own request was made Governor in Amboina. In 1630 Gijsels returned to the Indies with a large retinue. After three years as Governor, he was accused of “private trading,” a charge that could have ended his career. However, he was able to clear his name and rose to the position of InspectorGeneral. This conflict seems to have rankled him throughout the rest of his life. As Councillor of the Indies, now living mainly in Batavia, he had free access to the archives and had copies made of numerous official documents. In September 1638 he finally left for The Netherlands, where he was received with great honours.20 In 1641 he was appointed admiral of a Dutch Fleet, and sent to assist the Portuguese against the Spanish. The chaotic battle of Cape St. Vincent that took place on 5 November 1641 ended indecisively, but was proclaimed a success on both sides. In the following years Gijsels attempted to organize an independent East India Company, and sought the support of the Prince of Orange, but the Prince declined and the scheme failed to interest sufficient subscribers. In 1647 when the Prussian Elector, Frederic William, was in The Hague to prepare for his marriage to the daughter of the Prince of Orange, Gijsels canvassed his support. Frederic William encouraged him to write a memorandum on the practicalities of setting up a Prussian East India Company. Gijsels sent a series of detailed plans and as a result, in 1648 he was appointed as “Geheimrat” (privy councilor) in Brandenburg. During the next twenty years, Gijsels developed various plans to establish a Brandenburg East India Company, but they all came to nothing. In 1651 the Prussian Elector allowed Aernout Gijsels to obtain the lease of the “Amt” (governor) of Lenzen, a border town on the River Elbe. There he resided in a castle and ruled in the name of the Elector until his death in 1676. 16

Most sources say that he enrolled at the age of sixteen, but here I rely upon M.A.P. MeilinkRoelofsz, “The Private Papers of Artus Gijsels as Source for the History of East Asia,” Journal of Southeast Asian History, Vol. 10, No. 3, Dec. 1969, p. 545. 17 Amboina, on Ambon Island in the Moluccas was the VOC East Indies headquarters from 1610 until 1619, when Governor General Jan Coen founded Batavia to take its place. 18 Meilink-Roelofsz, “The Private Papers,” pp. 547-548. 19 Also on board were four Ambonese boys, who accompanied Gijsels and planned to study theology. They returned to Ambon with Gijsels in 1630. 20 In 1639 Gijsels received from the VOC 3000 guilders to compensate for expenses and he was awarded an extra 1000 guilders for “his good services”. See F.W. Stapel (ed.), Pieter van Dam, Beschrijvinge van de Oostindische Compagnie, Vol 1, Part 2 (’s-Gravenhage, 1929), p. 316 Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Gijsels, no doubt disappointed with the Great Elector who eventually had withdrawn from the plans for a Brandenburg East India Company, left his papers to his friend, the Margrave Herman of Baden. As a result, his maps ended up in Karlsruhe, state capital of Baden until 1952.

Aernout Gijsels and his maps The Baden State Library in Karlsruhe has eighty maps from Gijsels’ bequest. Most relate to expeditions and voyages in the Moluccan Islands between 1631 and 1635 when Gijsels was Governor of Amboina. All are monochrome sketches of landscapes, some made by Isaac Gilsemans, who later accompanied Abel Tasman on his journey in 1642–1643.21 A few others are maps showing large regions of the world, or sea routes that were not visited by Gijsels. These were probably acquired after 1638 when Gijsels finally returned from the Indies. Five relate to the Spilbergen expedition of 1615 and were identified by the Baden State Library as coming from the VOC mapmaker Hessel Gerritz in Amsterdam. Gijsels also obtained some large-scale maps drawn by the famous Joan Blaeu. One of the maps in the Gijsels’ collection is directly related to the famous atelier of Johannes Vingboons where hundreds of watercolour scenes were painted. In the Vingboons atlas that ended up in the Dutch National Archives there is a map called “t Casteel en t Conincklijck Palijs van Visiapour” (the castle and royal palace of Visiapour/ Vijayapura). In the Gijsels’ collection is the original drawing that probably was made in 1637 during a diplomatic mission by chief merchant Johan van Twist.22 The map showing the arrival of the Prince’s letter in Siam is also exceptional in the Gijsels’ collection. First, it has no bearing on Gijsels’ chief aim of amassing documents related to his wish to form a new East India company. Second, it is a painting, rather than a map. Third, it is painted in colours. Fourth, unlike all the others, its style and execution suggest that it was created in the atelier of Johannes Vingboons and his assistants in the 1640s. The lettering of the words “Siam” and “Bankock” is typical of Vingboons (Figure 10). Also the depiction of a Bangkok chedi and of houses along the waterfront almost exactly replicate parallel depictions on Vingboons map of Ayutthaya (Figure 11). Most remarkable is the extraordinary quality of the drawings of the two ships, showing many details of the complex rigging. Such quality was only attained in a few places in the Netherlands. Vingboons’ watercolour paintings were based upon cartographic material kept in the the “Oost-Indisch Huis”, as the VOC headquarters in Amsterdam were generally 21

See G. Anderson, The Merchant of the Zeehaen, Isaac Gilsemans and the Voyages of Abel Tasman (Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2001). 22 M. Gosselink, Land in zicht: Vingboons tekent de wereld van de 17de eeuw (Zwolle: Waanders, 2007), pp. 37, 52-53 and 120. The original can be seen at www.Atlasofmutualheritage.nl/nl/ Gezicht-paleis-Visiapour-India.6529. The Gijsels collection in Karlsruhe has not only the original drawing but also Van Twist’s written account of his mission to the king of Visiapour, which was first published in 1638 in Batavia as Generale Beschrijvinghe van Indien, ende in ‘t besondere van ‘t Coninckrijck and Guseratten.... Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 10. Text on this map (above) and on Vingboons maps (below)

Figure 11. Depiction of a chedi and riverside house on this map (left) and on Vingboons map of Ayutthaya (right).

known. Since 1638 the chief of the map room was the above-mentioned Joan Blaeu, who took charge of the vast collection of sketches drawn by VOC mates, merchants, opperhoofden, envoys and draftsmen. Blaeu’s main task was to take an inventory and to transform these sketches into practical maps. While all of Blaeu’s maps were drawn for practical purposes, Vingboons aquarelles were highly valued ornaments, which adorned the walls of high officials, and his atlases were collectors’ items. Blaeu has been described as Vingboons’ associate and patron.23 The depiction of Bangkok in our map may thus well have been inspired by some of the sketches in the Amsterdam map room. Certainly, Bangkok was similarly depicted on one of the VOC maps of the lower Chaophraya River that was completed in the late 17th cenury.24 The envoy Schouten may have sketched Bangkok’s situation. If so, his drawing would have been sent to the map room of the VOC headquarters in Amsterdam. Schouten’s Uytloopich Verhael can be found only in the Dutch Archives. It does 23

Gosselink, Land in zicht, p. 40. ANA Leupe Vel 4, No. 266. A copy is shown on www.atlasofmutualheritage.nl/nl/Chart-riverSiam.2516. 24

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not appear in the Gijsels collection of the Baden State Library or in the vast Sejarah Nusantara collection, Arsip Nasional Republik Indonesia. Most likely the map was made in the Netherlands, and perhaps was intended to illustrate a printed version of Uytloopich Verhael. Schouten’s work on Siam, written in 1636, was published two years later in the Netherlands as a booklet of twenty-four pages called Notitie vande situatie, regeeringe, macht, religie, costuymen, traffijcqen ende andere remercquable saeken des Coninghrijcks Siam.25 In the early 1640s Schouten’s fame was firmly established. In Batavia, he was a member of the “Raad van Indië” (the governing body), supervising the “buitencomptoiren” (external offices). In 1641 he was chosen to lead high-level diplomatic missions to Malacca and to the Queen of Aceh. On 25 November 1642 Abel Tasman named one of the islands discovered near the southwest coast of Tasmania as Schoute Eylandt (Schouten Island).26 Shortly after, however, he was accused of engaging in homosexual relations, and consequently was executed in July 1644. Perhaps a plan to publish Schouten’s Uytloopich Verhael promptly collapsed, and a map in preparation for this publication came onto the market at a bargain price which Aernout Gijsels could not resist. But this is only speculation.

Published by Aert Meuris in ’s-Gravenhage. The first English edition was printed in 1663, titled A Description of the Government, Might, Religion, Customes, Traffick, and other remarable Affairs in the Kingdom of Siam: written in the Year 1636 by Joost Schouten, Directour of the East-IndiaCompany in that Countrey. 26 V. Roeper and D. Wildeman, Het journal van Abel Tasman, 1642-1643 (Zwolle: Waanders, 2006), pp. 74, 84. 25

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The Vajirañāṇa Library Chronicle: A Tribute to Michael Vickery Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit

In 1971, Michael Vickery discovered a samut thai accordion book in the Thailand National Library which he called a “fragment” of a chronicle. He published an annotated translation and extensive commentary in JSS 1977.1 The Thai historian, Nidhi Eoseewong, suggested this text, the only chronicle discovered in the last 100 years, should be named the “Michael Vickery Chronicle,” in the same way that the “Luang Prasoet Chronicle” is named after the person who discovered it.2 A Silpakorn University master’s student, Ubonsi Atthaphan, discovered another similar text in the library.3 Initial comparisons suggested the two were not connected, but a committee appointed by the Thai Historical Commission concluded they were two halves of the same book. These folding books are a single long sheet, written down one side and then back up the other. Ubonsi’s half had the first and fourth parts of the text, while Vickery’s had the second and third. The Historical Commission officially named the combined text as “The Royal Chronicle of Ayutthaya, Vajirañāṇa Library Edition.”4 Among historians, however, the text will be eternally associated with its discoverer. This translation of the full text is offered as a tribute to Michael Vickery. Michael Vickery’s translation, annotation, and interpretation were extraordinary for their time. Over the subsequent forty-one years, more early texts have become available, and more knowledge has accumulated on the history of the era, and on the syntax and vocabulary of early Ayutthaya Thai. This translation differs from Vickery’s on many details, but not on any major issue. Similarly, Vickery’s questing and querying in his footnotes sparked further research, which has sometimes overridden his judgments. However, Michael Vickery’s major assertions about the meaning of this text for the history of Siam and Cambodia in the 15th century remain intact. The additions on the front and end of his translation extend the story, but do not change it. Michael Vickery did not return to his study of this document, or take note of its “other half.” In an article on “Cambodia and its neighbours in the 15th century,” published in 2010, he drew on his earlier study with only minor additions of detail. “The 2/k.125 Fragment: A Lost Chronicle of Ayutthaya,” JSS 65, 1 (1977), 1–80. Nidhi, Pen and Sail, 292; the article was first published in 1980. 3 No 222 2/k 104 (เลขที่ ๒๒๒ ๒/ก ๑๐๔). 4 The National Library reference of the combined text is No. 2/k. 125, case 108, bundle 27 (พงศาวดาร กรุงศรีอยุธยา เลขที่ ๒/ก. ๑๒๕ ตู้ ๑๐๘ มัต ๒๗). 1 2

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The importance of this text The document relates events in the late 1430s and 1440s during the reign of King Boromracha (Jao Samphraya). The samut thai is clearly a copy rather than an original text, as attested by several common copyists’ errors. However, as Winai Pongsripian notes, the language is old, similar to other 15th century texts, and the titles of officials reflect 15th century practice, prior to the changes in the Trailokanat reign (1448–1488?), showing that the text has not been revised and “improved,” like many other early texts. After the two halves had been reassembled, the text was still deficient, lacking both a beginning and end, which might have included information on its composition. Michael Vickery’s appreciation of the text concentrated on the relationship between Ayutthaya and Cambodia. While that remains the prime focus, the enlarged text has a broader importance for the history of Siam. Ayutthaya and the Northern Cities. As Piset Jiajanphong has shown, the integration between Ayutthaya and the “Northern Cities” of the old Sukhothai Kingdom was driven by multiple intermarriages between the Suphanburi family ruling at Ayutthaya and the Sukhothai family descended from Ramarat/Ramkhamhaeng and Lithai.5 This text records a key stage of this process. Bala Mueang of the Sukhothai family is ruling in Phitsanulok. His sister is chief queen of Boromracha of Ayutthaya. She (or another Sukhothai princess) is the mother of Trailokanat, son and successor of Boromracha. In 1440/1, Boromracha bestows on his brother-in-law, Bala Mueang, the title of Maha Thammaracha, the old kingly title of the Sukhothai line. Possibly, Bala Mueang had already been using this title. The ceremony of bestowal, complete with gifts of regalia, dramatizes Phitsanulok’s submission to Ayutthaya, while probably giving Bala Mueang some degree of precedence over his fellow rulers in the Northern Cities. These inter-relations prepare the way for conflict in the next generation. Bala Mueang’s son, Yuthisthira/Yuthisthian, expects to succeed to his father’s position. However, in 1448, his cousin and boyhood friend, Trailokanat, succeeds to the throne in Ayutthaya, and wishes to put his own son in this position. As related in the poem, Yuan Phai, this provokes Yuthisthian to break with Ayutthaya and throw in his lot with Lanna, sparking a long period of conflict between Ayutthaya and Lanna.6 Ayutthaya’s expansion of influence. The co-operation between Ayutthaya and the northern lords may be key to the main theme of the whole document, which is the extension of Ayutthaya’s power to the west, north, and east. The opening section has the earliest record of Ayutthaya sending troops to the west coast of the upper peninsula. The main bulk of the text concerns Ayutthaya’s Phiset, Phra maha thammaracha; also, see the summary of Phiset’s argument in Baker and Pasuk, History of Ayutthaya, Ch. 3, and the lineage chart at the end of this article. 6 Baker and Pasuk, Yuan phai, 3–4, 105. 5

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attempt to defend its influence in Cambodia, following the Ayutthaya occupation of Angkor in 1431/2. The remaining section concerns a plan for Ayutthaya and the northern lords to restore a deposed leader in Nan. In both the northern and western expeditions (though not in Cambodia), northern nobles are involved in supplying and leading troops. However, this should not be portrayed as Ayutthaya’s “absorption” of the Northern Cities and its successful extension of power in all directions. The text portrays considerable friction within these joint forces, particularly in the campaign to Nan. The expedition to the west coast of the peninsula is messy and inconclusive. After the split between Trailokanat and Yuthisthian, Ayutthaya, the Northern Cities, and Lanna were in conflict intermittently for over a century. Relations between Ayutthaya and the Northern Cities were not resolved until the Phitsanulok family took over the throne in Ayutthaya in 1569. The expedition to Angkor paved the way for an Ayutthayan occupation of Angkor, which provoked a large and probably successful revolt. In this text, we see Ayutthaya flexing its muscles, but not establishing any firm control on outlying regions. Ayutthaya and Angkor. In the past, Ayutthaya’s expedition to Angkor in 1431/2 was dubbed a “sack,” largely because the chronicles tell of the expedition bringing back people and images. In fact, there are no records of any fighting on this occasion. Reports that an Angkorian king was brought to Ayutthaya appear only in Cambodian chronicles written much later. It seems likely that the old Khmer rulers had already withdrawn to the Phnom Penh area. Ayutthaya occupied Angkor and began to convert it into one of Ayutthaya’s “cardinal cities” by sending the king’s son, best known as Nakhon In and formerly resident in Suphanburi, to rule there. By the time this text begins, he had been there for a decade. Recent work in archaeology and art history suggests that Ayutthaya nobles were present in Angkor for a long period and treated this special place with great respect.7 The Yat rebellion. At the start of the Cambodian section, Yat, a descendant of a former Cambodian king, raises a revolt, probably in 1442/3. Ayutthaya sends a large expedition, led by another of Boromracha’s sons, then ruling at the cardinal city to the north (Phraek Siracha). The rebels are defeated, and Yat is captured. En route to Ayutthaya, Yat manages to escape, and seems to have established himself at Prey Veng, in the south-east of Cambodia. Possibly, in the same year, a group of Khmer in Ayutthaya (presumably captives from 1431/2, but by now put to work, including in military roles) plot to kill King Boromracha, take over the Ayutthaya throne, reoccupy Angkor, and send back the statues and regalia removed in 1431/2. The plot is discovered and thirty-plus people are executed. This revolt does not appear in the Siamese chronicles. While ruling at Angkor, Nakhon In has died of sickness. Boromracha installs his other son, Chaopraya Phraek, as ruler at Angkor. Chaophraya Phraek sends an expedition to crush Yat in Prey Veng, but this attempt fails and begins a string of defeats. Yat moves 7

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to Jong Koep, where the local ruler initially resists, but then goes over to the rebellion. Several groups around Pasanti join up with Yat, and impose a third defeat on an Ayutthaya force sent against them. The defeated Ayutthaya force retreats to Phnom Penh (Chaturamukh), but is defeated again and retreats to Angkor. Another pro-Ayutthaya town attacks Yat’s forces, but again is defeated. Yat is now joined by another monk-cum-leader, who anoints him as a king. Yat’s first attempt to take Pursat fails, but the second succeeds. At this point, Yat seems to control all of the Khmer country between the great lake and the mountains to the south, eastward to the Mekong and beyond. One of Ayutthaya’s military chiefs (Nakhonchai) is hauled back to Ayutthaya and made a scapegoat for these failures. The leading Ayutthaya general, Thepmongkhon, dies (see below). Dissension starts among Yat’s forces. He falls out with the monk-cum-leader who anointed him, and has him executed. At that point the text ends, and the next stages of the story are unknown. According to the later Khmer chronicles, Yat had Chaophraya Phraek killed, but this is far from certain. There is no mention of Angkor in the Ayutthaya chronicles from this point on, suggesting that their forces were dislodged at some point. Phraya Thepmongkhon. When Phraya Thepmongkhon dies, probably in the mid-1440s, King Boromracha gives 24 kilograms of gold to make his funeral urn, appoints one of the Phraya’s sons to succeed to his title, and another to his inheritance. He was clearly a very important man. He is almost certainly the figure who appears in an inscription (NM.78), found in 2007 at Dan Khun Thot in Lopburi. In the inscription he is called Khun Sichairacha Mongkhonthep. One side has twenty-six lines of Thai that may be translated as follows:8 On Sunday Somdet Phra Int hara-maha-boroma-jakkaphati-thammikarat, the king, had Khun Sichairacha Mongkhonthep, prime special councillor,9 and Khun Manoram, Khun Khamhaeng Phra Phrom, Nai Khamhaeng Narai, Khun Pathayom, Khun Trai Khamhaeng, Khun Thai-at, Khun Khamhaeng, Phra Phut, Jao Nakhonchai, Jao Hao, Nai Manomoya, Nai Phao Phra Bontham, Jao Sam Chuen, and Jao Phetcha bring the four-limbed10 army—elephants, horse, troops—to attack and capture the cities of Phimai, Phanom Rung, Srao Khachai, Phanom Khram, Samet-du, Phanom Mat, Singkha Phichai, Phrai Khadan, which were enemies, to be dependent territories and subdued for the era of Manosa,11 Based on the transcription of lines 1–24 in Santi, “Jaruek,” 75; see also Watanyu, “Jaruek khun si chaiyarat mongkhonthep,” 49–52. 9 เอกมนตรีพีเสส, ekamontri phiset. Winai suggests this may correspond to the post of พฤธามาตย์, phruethamat, which Themongkhon holds at his death, and has roughly the same meaning. 10 จตุรงค์, jaturong, Pali: caturanga, a conventional term for an army; the fourth limb was chariots. 11 A Thai rendering of Manu, the law-giver; i.e., forever. 8

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and then issued a royal command for Khun Sichairacha Mongkhonthep and all his nobles to bring the elephants, horse, and troops back to Phra Phon Kamphaeng,12 making a route (out) to bring all the war-prisoners, slaves, people, soldiers, and various articles to the mesabarathan13 and enter the scripture-hall,14 to create this stone eulogy,15 as an honor of all levels.16 The royal order that Khun Si chairacha Mongkhonthep be prime special councillor is made on 11th waxing of the 12th month, year of the pig.17

The places mentioned, apart from Phimai and Phanom Rung, are difficult to identify. However, Samet-du might be O’Smach, Asmech, now on the Cambodian border in Surin Province, and Phra Khadan might be Kralanh, northwest of Angkor. The second face has 27 lines in Khmer. Over half is unreadable, but some readable portions, such as the list of names, match the Thai, suggesting that the content was similar. However, one important difference appears on line 16: “phranakhon sri srintharapura.” According to Santi, this is a name for Angkor from the time of Indravarman I, and appears in other inscriptions, including from Banteay Srei.18 This seems to confirm that this inscription refers to the Angkor expedition of 1431/2, though it is strange that a name for Angkor does not appear on the Thai-language face. The year 1431/2 was a pig year, as mentioned at the end of the inscription. Khun Sichairacha Mongkhonthep is clearly richly rewarded for his role in this expedition. He appears in the chronicle with the title of Phraya.

This translation Winai Pongsripian published the text of the combined samut thai. This translation is based on his second, revised version, which includes a sketch of the historical background, summary with commentary, annotated text, and facsimile of the transcription from the samut thai.19 While all pre-1600 Thai texts are difficult, as Winai notes, this one is พระพนกำ�แพง, probably “wall of the forest,” similar to ประตูป่า, the “door of the forest,” the boundary between forest and human-occupied territory. 13 เมสบรธาน, unknown. 14 บรรณศาลา, bana sala. 15 ประสัส (ปรศสติ), prasat(i), a Sanskrit-derived word for a eulogy. 16 สบปดล, sappadon, which may be (สัปทน), sapathon, a ceremonial umbrella of rank, but Santi suggests it comes from Pali, sabba paṭala, “all levels.” 17 The remaining two-and-a-half lines are very unclear: “nāganinātasatapānaseyi āvāsa chanādipānayye paritonudyo tvaṃ ācapi (sukha) pāpa pāna ...” Certain words appear to be Pali, but the overall meaning is elusive. On the Khmer side, this part is unreadable. 18 Santi, “Jaruek,” 76 19 Winai, “Phrarachaphongsawadan.” 12

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exceptionally difficult. Without Winai’s expertise, this translation would not be possible. Many of the notes and interpretations are his. Michael Vickery explained, “The translation is intended to be as literal as possible, yet remain comprehensible. Thus, there has been no attempt to write elegant English. In fact, the English has at times been deliberately distorted to facilitate comparison with the Thai.” We have followed the same principle, though the style is a little different. Here the Royal Institute/Society system is used for transcription from Thai. Place names that can be identified are given in the modern form, with the Thai original in a note. The layout follows the original, treating the fongnam (oil bubble) symbol as a paragraph break. A couple of these symbols, which seem to have been inserted in error, have been ignored. The subheads are not part of the original text but are inserted here for guidance. Words in [square brackets] fill lacunae created by damage to the text and mostly follow the suggestions of Winai. Words in {curly brackets} are inserted for readability. In the notes, (MV) refers to Vickery’s 1977 article, (W) means the note comes from Winai, and (W, pages) are references to Winai’s commentary in the same article. Certain words are translated consistently throughout: เมือง, mueang, city; เจ้าเมือง, jao mueang, ruler; กินเมือง, kin mueang, rule; ท้าวพระยา, thaophraya, lord. Where a royalspecific pronoun is used for a king, the English is capitalised (He, His). In the notes, RCA refers to Cushman’s Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya and KTSD refers to the Three Seals Law. Titles and names Names of those in Ayutthaya’s official nobility consisted of a prefix depicting rank (ยศ, yot), an official name (ราชทินนาม, rachathinanam) and a job description (ตำ�แหน่ง, tamnaeng). At the time of this document, the hierarchy was rather shallow. Chaophraya was the title of kings, and Phraya of the rulers of city-states. The nobility had two levels, Khun and Nai. Several other titles are found occasionally (e.g., Ja, Yi), probably reflecting the different systems of various city-states. By the time that the official lists in the Three Seals Law were compiled, perhaps in the 17th century, the hierarchy had been greatly stretched. Chaophraya/Okphraya was now the highest of seven levels in the official nobility (followed by Phraya, Phra, Luang, Khun, Muen, Phan). Khun had been degraded from the top to the lower half of this hierarchy, and Nai had become principally a title for non-nobles. Other titles were much rarer. Most of the rachathinanam found in this text do not appear in the Three Seals Law lists. Those that can be identified have often been degraded from a seemingly important post in this text to something more junior. Places The text names several places in Cambodia. A few of them can be tentatively identified from similar Thai-language spellings on the maps in Santanee and Stott, Royal Siamese maps. See the map below.

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The Vajirañāṇa Library Chronicle in translation SIDE A In the past someone brought a stuffed duck to give [to] K[hun Rachasa20] and he then coughed up a lot of spittle. His wife and children brought [...] to examine, who studied and saw a tiger moustache on that duck [...] looked for the person who brought it but could not find him. Khun Rachasa coughed until [blood came] out of his mouth. After three months and a bit, Khun Rachasa died, so Som[det] Phraboromarachathirat Jao21 had Nai Konthong,22 the son of Khun Rachasa, aged around nineteen years, be Khun Rachasa in his place. One year,23 He prepared elephants, horses, and troops to march to Mueang Phimai and Phanom Rung.24 When the two city rulers [submitted] to pay respect to the king’s foot, He bestowed [various] rewards and returned to his home country. After some time, the ruler of Phi[mai] died. Thao Thep25 then became the ruler there. As for Thao Chomphu,26 the younger brother, he ruled the city of Phanom Rung. {As for} the city of Phra Ngam Phutthathancharathik,27 Phraya Klang ruled. [When] Phraya Klang died, he gained the royal wealth for Thao Kaeo and called [him Khun] Kamhaeng Phra Inthon.28 Later Khun Kamhaeng Phra Inthon came to pay respect [to] Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao and died when a boat sank. In 801, year of the goat,29 first of the decade, Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat gathered all the Brahman teachers, lords, and generals for a great festival to hold the royal ceremony of {topknot} shaving30 for Somdet Phra Boromachetthathirat Jao, His See note on titles in the introduction. Khun Rachasa is a khun dap, sakdina 500, under Luang Phirenthepbodi Si Samuha, head of the department of the great guard of the right under Kalahom (KTSD, I, 286). 21 Ruler of Ayutthaya 1424–48, called Boromracha II by Wyatt. 22 ก้อนทอง, “golden stone/chunk,” a term used for several posts: Ja Konthong, sakdina 400, female treasurer under the female section headed by Thao Worajan; twelve posts with Nai titles described as pradaeng konthhong khwa, sakdina 400, under the ministry of the palace; Muen Ja Konthong Sai, sakdina 200, in krom ma saeng nai (inner department of fast horses) under the ministry of the palace (KTSD, I, 222, 237-8, 259). 23 Probably CS 800, CE 1438/9, BE 1981 (W). 24 Possibly should be Phra Ngam here too (see next paragraph), but a copyist deleted it since the next sentence talks of two rulers. This appears to be the first attempt by Ayutthaya to assert authority over the region of the upper Mun River (W). 25 Son of the Phimai ruler, possibly ruling earlier at Phanom Rung (W). 26 Possibly ruling earlier at Phra Ngam (W). 27 พุทธาทานชรทิก probably miscopied from พุทธาทานธาทิก phutthathanthathik, “gift of the Buddha for certain.” The location of Phra Ngam is not known but might correspond to Mueang Sema (W). 28 Change of title from Thao to Khun reflects absorption into the Ayutthaya domain (W). 29 CE 1439/40, BE 1982. 30 โกษรกรรม, kosonkam. This is the future king, Borommatrailokat (1448-88?). According to Yuan Phai, Trailokanat was born at the time of the expedition to Angkor (1431/2) and hence would now be eight years old (Baker and Pasuk, Yuan phai, 34). The insertion of Ramesuan in his title 20

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son, and bestowed on him the name [...] Somdet Phra Ramesuan Boromatrailokanat Bophit. In the year 80[2, a year of the] monkey, second of the decade,31 there was a fire in the Royal Hall.32 Nai Ngua Khliang brought the elephant Thepraksa that Phraya Bala Mueang33 had presented to take the king to stay at Chankhin34 [and] He had Khun Phijit35 repair the Royal Hall for about a year until all was finished [and] He went into the Royal Hall. In 803, a year of the chicken, third [of the decade],36 there was fire in the Trimuk Throne Hall37 where the king appeared at the royal ceremony of Asayut38 so Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao had Khun Phijit repair the north side of the palace and the old Royal Hall in the saratkep39 and He went to reside there, and bestowed the old Royal Hall on Somdet Phra Ramesuan Boromatrailokanat Bophit. He went to stay in Rachansawan,40 upheld the royal custom of succession of the holy solar lineage, and practised the Ten Principles of Kingship in the great city of Si Ayutthaya. Later Phraya Bala Mueang, ruler of Phitsanulok, came down to pay respect. Their two majesties bestowed royal articles and gave him the name Mahathammarachathirat.41 He then took leave to return to that city, and received a holy golden plate,42 jewelled garland, and regalia to take as well. On arrival he arranged a great festival for {displaying} his accumulated merit. At that time Phraya Chaliang, Phraya Ramarat, and Phraya Saen Soi Dao43 sent help for this. After that, the queen addressed Phra Borommarachathirat Jao to hold the indicates he is the designated successor (W). 31 CE 1440/1, BE 1982. 32 พระราชมณเฑียร, phra rachamonthian, probably meaning the main royal residence inside the palace. “In 802 ... there was a fire in the Phrarachamonthian” (RCA, 15, l.45-6, translation modified). The Ming record dated 29 March 1444 reports that Ayutthaya sent a mission to report that “the gold-plated seal and tally reference stub-book, which were formerly conferred on your country, had both been destroyed by fire, and to request the conferral of replacements” (Wade, Southeast Asia online no. 1834). 33 Ruler of Phitsanulok. 34 ชานคิล, unknown. 35 Probably Khun Phijit Rojana, sakdina 400, a craftsman under the great treasury in the palace ministry (KTSD, I, 268). 36 1441/2 CE, 1983 BE. 37 “In 803 ... there was a fire in the Trimuk Throne Hall” (RCA, 15, l.47-8, translation modified). 38 อาสยุช, a ritual boat race between boats of the king and queen held in the 11th month, see Baker and Pasuk, Ayutthaya Palace Law, 111, 120. 39 สรัดเกบ, unknown. 40 ราชันยสวรรค์, unknown. 41 The old title of Sukhothai kings. Phraya Bala Mueang was the elder brother of Boromaracha’s chief queen. Either she or another Sukhothai descendant was mother of Trailokanat. Bala Mueang was father of Yuthasthian. Inscription 12 from Wat Boworniwet, Phraphutthabat, states that in 1426/7 “Phra Mahathammaracha (Boromapan),” ruler of Phitsanulok was thirty-six years old, suggesting that perhaps Bala Mueang was already using this title much earlier (W, 64–5). 42 พระสุพรรณบัตร, phra suphannabat, a golden tray or plate inscribed with the name of a dependent ruler (W). 43 The rulers of Sawankhalok, Sukhothai, and Kamphaeng Phet respectively. Note that all three titles are different in the Three Seals Law (KTSD, I, 320). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Greyhair-Dyeing44 rite of the mother, Mae Nang Sakha,45 and to give {her} a name. HM the king presented a golden palanquin, golden walking stick, and royal articles, and gave an auspicious name to Mae Nang Sakha, the royal mother of the queen and Mahathammarachathirat.46 Ayutthaya and the west coast Later a hunter-guard47 at the city of Dawei48 assembled irregular49 troops, getting around 5,000 warriors and migrant families, and established a village near Chayaveriya.50 Phraya Imharihare-mang51 took troops of Taithong52 to fight the hunter-guard, who fled to Thanaosi.53 Phraya Imharihare-mang entered and established himself at Dawei, and gathered together all the many people of that city, then brought articles of tribute to pay respect and present to the king, and respectfully made a request to establish the village of Chayaveriya as a dependent territory.54 Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao gave a royal command over the heads, ordering the group of generals and venerable officials55 to send a letter to Phraya Imharihare-mang to establish the city of Chayaveriya and to appoint the relatives of the Phraya to rule the cities of Palauk and Palaw.56 The venerable officials and royal officials arranged for Narintharawongsa and Hongsaracha57 to return to rule those two cities of Palauk and Palaw according to the royal command given by the king. As for Phraya Imharihare-mang, he was to send royal tribute of silver and gold flowers to present to the king every year. Later, Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao assembled elephants, horses, land troops, and [naval troops] all of them, and when ready, He proceeded up to Kamphaeng Phet, and [had] Phraya Chaliang, Mahathammaracha, Phraya Ramarat, and Phraya Thammikhe[...]58 brought for consultation along with all the lords and generals who would go to take the city of [Tai]thong. When the lords, generals, and ministers were all 44 45

ย้อมหงอก, yom ngok, a rite of entering old age at the sixth cycle, 72 years (W). แม่นางษาขา, mother of Borommarachathirat’s queen and of Mahathammaracha of Phitsanulok.

See lineage chart at the end of this article. พรานระวัง, phran rawang. 48 ทวาย, thawai, Tavoy. 49 สัดพลัด, sat phlat, not in a group under an overseer (W). 50 ไชยเวริย, not found anywhere else; possibly Zeyya Wiriya; perhaps chaiya pheri, victory drum (W), or jaya viriya, victory strength/energy. 51 อิมหริหเรมาง, possibly a Burmese title, im rhe.maṅḥ, meaning “prince of the front house/palace,” uparaja, heir apparent” (thanks to Jacques Leider and Pat McCormick). 52 ตายทอง, appears in the Palace Law (Baker and Pasuk, Ayutthaya Palace Law, 78), and on Traiphum maps to west of Kamphaeng Phet in the Mon country, north of Dawei (W). Possibly this is Taungngu (Toungoo). 53 ตะนาวศรี, thanaosi, Tenasserim. 54 ขัณฑสีมา, khanthasima. 55 พฤฒามาตย์, phruetamat, “old/big officials.” The term seems to refer to the most senior officials or advisers of the king. 56 Both south of Dawei down the coast. 57 ณรินทรวงษา หงษาราชา; these appear to be the names of Phraya Imharihare-mang’s relatives and envoys, and yet they also might mean “lineage of the king” and “King of Pegu.” 58 Unknown, perhaps a copyist’s error (W). 46 47

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in agreement, He [had] Khun Nakhonchai59 carry the authority as leader of the people of the city of Si Ayutthaya to [fight as?] one army, along with the six armies of the lords of the north, in all 50,000 troops, sixty decorated60 elephants, 1,000 decorated horse, all prepared and ready. The lords paid respect to take leave of HM the King to march. At that time, only Phraya Saen {Soi Dao} did not go along. Then the lords and generals marched up to the city of Mawlamyaing.61 Phraya Ram{arat} pre[pared an army] to take the city of Taitho[ng], and all the {Mon} officers62 took the elephants, horses, and t[roops] ... SIDE B ... around ... decorated with ... village{?} ... city of Taithong ... [Phan Hongsa] and [Muen Samatchai] and Khun Ramkamhaeng63 were lost,64 but when ... the king proceeded to take the city of Dawei on this occasion, they were brought as captives to be seen {to jeer}.65 Then when they crossed close to the bank, Muen Samatchai removed the manacle66 and pulled up the gunwales of the boat to attack the people of Taithong. The oarsmen rushed down into the water and fled, but the man at the stern fought back with his oar, struck Muen Samatchai, who hit the man at the rear who fell into the water. Then Muen Samatchai took the boat up to Khun Nakhonchai, who had the oarsmen ride an elephant, and gave them to the lords and generals. But the officers withdrew the troops, and ordered them whenever they heard the sound of our gong to attack the enemy; anyone failing to follow this order would be severely punished. Khun Nakhonchai withdrew to hide in the forest fringe. Then the ruler of Taithong, the {Mon} officers,67 and the heads of armies and brigades, crossed with elephants, horses, and troops, came up the bank on this side, brought boats close to the troops, and came up to attack Khun Nakhonchai and the lords. Khun Nakhonchai and the lords retreated. The enemy was thus encouraged and came on strongly. Phraya Chaliang and Khun Si Bat did not wait to hear the signal gong, but rallied to resist the enemy who were defeated and fell into the water. The soldiers pursued and slashed dead about 200 Mon. The ruler of Taithong and the {Mon} officers left without having time to mount elephants or horses, {but} took the elephants and horses back down into the water and fled across surrounded by boats. When Phan Hongsa saw the disorder, he broke his bonds and ran along the river to find our soldiers, who brought Phan Hongsa to Khun Nakhonchai, who gave him clothes and an elephant to ride. Khun Nakhonchai and the lords marched the army back, paid respect to HM the King, and reported everything ขุนนครไชย; Khun Nakhonchai appears as khun dap with sakdina 500 in the great guard of the left under Kalahom (KTSD I, 288). 60 (ทรง)เครื่อง, (song)khrueang. 61 เมาะลำ�เลิง, Mawlamleung, Moulmein, Mawlamayne. 62 กรสมิง, kora saming; sming is a Mon term for military officers, but the first syllable is unknown. 63 Appears below as an officer in the army of Chaophraya Phraek Siracha (W). 64 Meaning they were taken by the Mon forces in a previous engagement. 65 The Mon brought these three men, captured in some previous engagement, to mock the Ayutthaya forces. 66 ลูกเกล้า, luk klao, some kind of restraint. 67 See footnote 62. 59

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about the battle to Him. The king made Muen Samatchai the chief muen of elephants. As for Phan Hongsa, he was made chief muen of boats in their group. And He bestowed on them rewards of rank and gratuities. After about a month, Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao went on a tour. At sunset, he had Phlai Songbun68 brought as the royal mount, and took Mahathammarachathirat, Phraya Chaliang, and Phraya Ramarat to ride with him. He had Nai Thit, the elephant master, get down, but Nai Thit did not get down. He moved down to be close to the driver. The king went up to a pavilion. After around five or six days, all the lords paid respect to take leave of HM the King and return to their cities. As for the king he entered the city of Si Ayutthaya. Meanwhile in the city of Hongsawadi, Phraya Ram69 died, and the realm passed to Phraya Pharo.70 After some time, his son, Chaophraya Phra Nakhon In, who was ruling in the royal capital,71 {when} Khun Sai Song Phra In, his patron,72 died, came to attend on Som[det] Phra Boromarachathirat Jao, who had Nai Phon, a younger brother, be Khun Sai Song Phra In in his place. Jao Yat’s rebellion Later, Jao Yat, son of Phra Ram Jao,73 who the king had sent to stay in Chaturamukh,74 persuaded all the Khmer to rebel against the royal son, Phra Naret In,75 who had Khun Sai Song Phra In march elephants, horses, and troops to meet {the enemy}. The lords were not yet subdued so he had word sent to Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao, who had them march the elephants, horses, and troops, and had Chaophraya Phraek,76 Phraya

The name of the king’s elephant in the battle in Yuan Phai (Baker and Pasuk, Yuan Phai, 77). Phraya Ramakiati, ruler of Hongsawadi, who, according to the Burmese chronicles, died in CS 808, CE 1446/7, BE 1989 (W). The Mon chronicle, Rachathirat, gives the date of his death as CS 803, CE 1441/2, and names the same successor (MV, 50). 70 Grandson of Phraya Ramakiati. 71 พระนครหลวง, phra nakhon luang, Angkor. 72 พี่เลียง, phi liang, “elder looking after,” a term not found in similar usage elsewhere, perhaps a consultant-cum-spy, like the yokkabat later (W, 71). 73 In the Khmer chronicles (composed much later), Yat is son of the former Khmer king, Somdetphra Ramathibodi Khamkhat (W). MV suggested that Yat was the son of Ramracha, the former king of Ayutthaya (1395-1409), who was deposed in 1409 and sent to Pathakhujam (RCA, 14, l.38–40), which MV suggested was Chaturamukh (MV, 56–60). 74 จัตุรมุข, jaturamuk, Chatumok, “four faces,” at the location of Phnom Penh today. 75 Somdet Phra Nakhon In, son of King Borommarachathirat, previously ruling in Suphanburi, given this title and sent to rule in Cambodia after the attack on Angkor in 1431/2 (W). 76 King Borommarachathirat’s son, who had been ruling at Phraek Siracha, one of the Ayutthaya’s cardinal cities, sited near present-day Sankhaburi in Chainat Province. 68 69

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Thepmongkhon,77 Khun Nakhonchai, Khun Si Bat,78 Khun Prapthawip, Khun Siphichai Songkhram,79 Khun Ramkamhaeng, Khun Kamhaeng Phra In, Khun Phetcharat, Khun Sai, Thao Ao, Khun Rat, Khun Phetchayarat, and Khun Phetchasan take 150,000 troops, 100 elephants, and 1,000 horses to the royal capital {Angkor}, and there was a royal command. The king went to his royal son and said, “When the army and the lords have reached the capital, have Somdet Phra Nakhon In take elephants, horses, and troops to establish as one army, and march it to subdue all the phak80 in Chaturamukh.” When Chaophraya Phraek and all the phraya, phra, luang, khun, and muen reached the capital, Somdet Phra Nakhon In took them out to establish as one army following the royal command, and marched them to suppress all the mahaphak up to Chaturamukh. The phak were routed. They also captured Jao Yat and all the lords. At that time, the royal son, Phra Nakhon In, fell sick. All the lords, generals, officials, and Brahman teachers held a Rite to Quell Great Bad Fortune81 and marched the whole army back. When they reached Phiren,82 Phra Nakhon In was severely ill. When they reached the royal capital, he passed away.83 Then Mae Nang Thepthorani and Mae Nang Khongkha84 wrote a letter inserted in a betel leaf placed under khao tiap85 and had it taken to Jao Yat with instructions to search in the khao tiap first. When a maidservant took the khao tiap, she told Jao Yat, who searched and found the letter, read it, and knew an order had come from the king to send Jao Yat to Ayutthaya. Khun Nakhonchai sent Jao Yat on from Chaturamukh by boat, not placing him under restraint. When they reached Saeng Phlao district,86 later on at midnight the guards fell fast asleep. Jao Yat went down into the water and trod water down to Khun

Probably the same as Khun Sichaiyarachamongkhonthep in the inscription found at Dan Khun Thot (NM.78). There he is given the title ekamontri phiset, “special first councillor,” and in this text phruetamat, which have roughly the same meaning. He is the only one in this list with Phraya rank. Winai speculates that he might also be the “Jao Senabodi” who invited Borommarachathirat to seize the throne in 1409 (RCA, 14, l.32–4) 78 Son of Phraya Thepmongkhon; see section below on Death of Phraya Thepmongkhon. 79 Military chief of Phitsanulok in an old list of provincial titles (Suphawat, “Phra aiyakan,” 142). 80 Phak and mahaphak play an important role in the tale. There are two different interpretations of what they mean. MV argues that phak is an “ethnic group,” largely on the grounds that there are two appearances of the term phao phak, where เผ่า phao means tribe or ethnic group. In his 2010 article, MV identified the phak with the Pear, suggesting a Thai scribe had corrected Pear in the original to phak, a Thai word for “group” (“Cambodia and its neighbours,” 290–2). Winai, by contrast, takes the word as “group” and “great group” at face value, and argues that it is the Thai scribe’s description of the various “groups” involved in the resistance to Ayutthaya. 81 บูชามหาเคราะห์สารติ, bucha mahakhro sarati; Winai suggests the final word is miscopied from a Thai version of the Sanskrit śanti, meaning to quell. 82 พิเรน, unknown. 83 In the Cambodian chronicles, he was killed by Jao Yat (MV, 56). 84 The spirits of the earth and water. This tale is possibly inserted to suggest Yat had divine help (W, 76). 85 ข้าวเตียบ, khao tiap, perhaps khao kriap, rice crackers (W). 86 แสงเพลา, perhaps Chachoengsao (MV, 66–7). 77

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Plabphlachai,87 who asked who he was. Jao Yat said, “I here am called Jao Yat, son of Phra Ram.” Khun [Phlab]plachai asked, “As son of Phra Ram, what is your mother’s name?” Jao Yat said, “My mother’s name is Nang Amphaket.”88 Khun [Phlab]plachai said, “You are truly the son of our friend.” Khun [Phlab]plachai then said, “Khun Nakhonchai is sending Jao Yat to Ayutthaya, but I shall protect you. Do not be afraid.” Jao Yat said, “What father89 says, I suspect [is untrue]. Father will kill me in father’s house here.” Khun [Phlab]plachai prepared food for Jao Yat to eat, then sent Jao Yat to Maharang-khaek90 of the phak tribe of Khun [Phlab]plachai in Truen{-at}.91 By dawn, people knew Jao Yat [had escaped]. All the soldiers rushed to ask the troops of Khun Phlabphlachai, who said, “I haven’t seen anything. If anyone knows {where he has gone}, let him go the same way, and we will help one another find him.” Much later it was known that Jao Yat had escaped to Kamang.92 Nai Thammarat, Nay Yi93 Chang Thong, Nai Pracha, Nai Thongtoet Songsan, Nai Yi Phakai—all Khmer—fled from the royal capital to join Jao Yat, who organised them as left and right, front and rear.94 Failed Angkorian coup in Ayutthaya, 1443/4 In 845,95 year of the pig, fifth of the decade, Chaophraya Kaeo and Phraya Tai96 of the mahaphak tribe, who the king had brought from the royal capital, discussed with Chiya Pracha Horat97 to rebel against Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao, and promised one another, in line with his wish, to have Chiya Pracha Horat rule at the city of Ayutthaya, and to send Phraya Kaeo, Phraya Tai and the royal articles taken from In the Lawaek Chronicle, he is Khun Phlachai, headman of Tanhak. The chronicler here seems to have muddled the story and made him into an Ayutthaya soldier assisting Yat’s escape, which is unlikely (W, 77). 88 Amphuket, a name of Mae Nang Thepthorani, goddess of the earth (W). 89 He is using this term to address Khun Phlabplachai. 90 MV thought this was a place. Winai suggests it is a phak chief. 91 เตริอณอาจ, unknown. 92 กะมัง, perhaps an unidentified place (W), or meaning “probably escaped” (MV). 93 ญี “Yi” is a title, possibly derived from Chinese, and adapted in several languages, including Mon, Thai, and Lao. In Thai, it may have a connotation of “expert,” as in ญีราร, yisan, “expert in documents.” This title appears in several names in this text, and occasionally in the Three Seals Law (W, 104, and Winai, Phojananukrom kham kao, 49). 94 This narrative is resumed below in the section Jao Yat’s rebelllion, part 2. 95 This date does not compute, and is more likely CS 805, CE 1443/4, BE 1986, as MV surmised. 96 In the Luang Prasoet Chronicle for CS 793, CE 1431/2, พระยาแก้ว พระยาไทย “Phraya Kaeo Phraya Tai” were brought from Angkor to Ayutthaya with images (RCA, 15, l.35–6). There is debate whether these four words refer to one person or two, and who they were. Winai, drawing on the Lawaek Chronicle, believes that Kaeo refers to Kaeo Fa, who had been ruling in Angkor. He was son of the former ruler, Ramathibodi Khamhak, and a younger half-brother of Yat. MV believes the Cambodia chronicles for this era, written much later, cannot be taken seriously. On the grounds that these names are here described as belonging to the mahaphak tribe, he argues these two are from the Pear ethnic group (“Cambodia and its neighbours,” 292–3). 97 ชียประชาโหรจ, chiya pracha horat. Chi(ya) means an ordinand and here may indicate a Brahman; Pracha is a personal name; horat might be contracted from horajan, astrologer, but Winai suggests it comes from the Sanskrit huta, fire sacrifice. 87

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there back to the royal capital. When they had made plans together, they discussed with Yot Phetcharat, Phetnarai, Phetsongkhram, Phichaiphet, who were soldiers of the inner brigade of Chaisi {Gate},98 Yi Jak, Yi Khuetansi, Yi Khankhanmak, Nai Khamphrathan, Nai Nguasi, Nai Siwichai, Nai Sithepsuk, Nai Jethua, and other hua phan, hua phak,99 and palace guards. Then they had cloth and clothing, silver and gold distributed among themselves in the quarters of Chiya Pracha Horat, and made plans to take the king, either when he went to Bang Tanim,100 or when he was giving alms, or when he went to give food to the monks, or when he was touring Ayutthaya at the Moon Ground.101 On account of the king’s accumulated merit, they did not succeed: Nai Jet, a chief of boats, brought the gold they had shared out, concealed on his body, to tell Khun Rachasa in the middle of the night. Khun Rachasa brought Nai Jet, chief of boats, with him, and in the middle of that night called Khun Monthianban,102 who opened the gate of the palace, and took the two of them to attend on HM the King, who sent for the venerable councillors, royal councillors, Khun Rachasak, and Khun Si to assemble. He ordered them to prepare all the elephants, horses, and soldiers, saying, “At dawn, go to get that royal astrologer/rebel.”103 Phraya Kaeo and Phraya Tai got wind of this and thus fled into hiding. When it was close to dawn, all the troops went to round up the rebel group and got them all. As for Phraya Kaeo and Phraya Tai, later in the day they were caught behind the reliquary.104 He had them interrogated and then locked up in a cage placed near the flagstaff.105 Then Phra Boromarachathirat Jao bestowed rewards on Nai Jet, chief of boats, and made him Khun Inthamontri. As for Mae Nang Phraya, Mae Nang Jao Mueang,106 and the senior royal consorts, as well as all the lords, generals, and councillors, they were given caselets for lime, betel leaf pouches, and betel boxes as rewards. Khun Inthamontri received around a large basket {full}, and he had them take these rewards for all the rebels to see. ไชยศรี, chaisi; Winai suggests this means a unit guarding the Victory Gate in the middle of the south side of Ayutthaya. Had people captured from Angkor been assigned to guard units in the capital? 99 หัวพันหัวปาก, “head-thousanders and head-hundreders,” a system of decimal ranking similar to the usage of “centurion.” 100 A village about fifteen kilometres along the Bang Kaeo/Bang Jaeng waterway that extended northwards from the north-west corner of the city of Ayutthaya during this era. It is not clear why the king should visit this village 101 สนามจันทร์, sanam jan, an area between the audience halls at Wat Phra Si Sanphet, later enclosed within the palace by King Prasat Thong, but open during this era. 102 Later monthianban is part of the title of the minister of the palace and presumably here indicates an earlier title of the officer overseeing the palace. 103 โหรห์, hon. This clearly refers to the conspirator who appeared above, but is here spelled slightly differently, with the last (silent) consonant as an “h” rather than a “t.” The pronunciation as hon suggests an astrologer, but not the spelling. Winai suggests this derives from a Sanskrit word, horaha, meaning a rebel. 104 พระธาตุ, phra that, perhaps Wat Mahathat. 105 เสาธงชัย, sao thong chai, in late Ayutthaya a gate in the centre of the northern wall of the palace was named the Victory Flagstaff Gate. 106 These two terms probably mean a) the four chief queens; and b) the second-ranked queens, who have come from the major subordinate cities (Baker and Pasuk, Ayutthaya Palace Law, 79). 98

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About three days later, He had Khun Chaiya Phrue and Si Rangkhan take Phraya Kaeo, Phraya Tai, Chi Pracha, and all the royal rebels to be impaled and exposed at the Khun Nakhonchai moat,107 altogether around thirty-something people. As for one son of Phraya Kaeo named Jao Kaeofa, he had gone to live with his wife at Phra Prasop,108 and did not know about his father. The king did not have him executed. Around two or three days later, Jao Kaeofa sent word to Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao and said, “I, your servant, in future will be called the son of a royal rebel and will be shamed by all, hence I, your servant, beg to die also to get it over with.” Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao had Si Rangkhan take Jao Kaeofa to be executed according to his wish, and bring his corpse to embrace the feet of his father, Phraya Kaeo. Because HM the King upheld the Ten Principles of Kingship excellently, he executed these rebels. Those whom he did not view as rebels, he did not execute a single one. Restoration of Kaen Thao of Nan: part 1 In the city of Nan,109 Thao Phaeng and Thao Ho, brothers, combined to rebel against Phraya Kaen Thao and were able to seize Nan and imprison Phraya Kaen Thao. Phraya Phaeng then had Thao Ho go to rule the city of Lim.110 Then Phraya Lim said to Phraya Phaeng, “Please have Phraya Kaen Thao executed which will be proper.” The Phraya did not execute Phraya Kaen Thao, but had him imprisoned. When he was in a good mood, he had him brought out to eat food and drink liquor, and then put back in jail. Later Phraya Kaen Thao prayed to the ancient reliquary,111 “If you have love for me, take [pity?].” So Nai Sam On took Phraya Kaen Thao to hide at a place, Tao Hai. When Phraya Phaeng knew, he arranged for people to search in every city, but did not find him. Phraya Phaeng then had them close all the border routes. Then Nai Sam On took Phraya Kaen Thao to flee via Sawang{khaburi}. They could not find any food to eat, so ate only leaves, betelnut, termites, bark, and tree roots. After around ten days they reached the คูขุนนครไชย, khu nakhonchai, a waterway branching southward from the south side of Ayutthaya’s moat; also known as the Takhian (Ironwood) Canal. 108 Probably the junction of the Lopburi River and Bang Lang Canal, north of Ayutthaya, site today of Wat Sop Sawan, three kilometres south of Bang Pahan. MV placed this in Cambodia, but noted this contradicts the coming sentence about Jao Kaeofa’s arrival. 109 The Nan and Chiang Mai Chronicles record the same story told here, but place it at an earlier date. In the Nan Chronicle, Jao Intakaen (Kaen Thao in this text) succeeded in 1432, and after fifteen months was deposed by his younger brothers, Jao Paeng and Jao Ho Pom, and imprisoned in a cage. He escaped by feigning illness and took refuge with the ruler of Chaliang. A year later, in 1434, Intakaen and Chaliang attacked Nan. Jao Paeng died in the battle, and Intakaen resumed the throne. Then in 1443/4, according to both the Chiang Mai and Nan chronicles, Kaen Thao got into a dispute with Tilokarat of Chiang Mai, which lasted for six years, and ended with Kaen Thao again fleeing to Chaliang in a year that Wyatt resolves as CS 810, CE 1448/9 (Wyatt and Aroonrut, Chiang Mai chronicle, 80–1; Wyatt, Nan chronicle, 51–3). Perhaps the Nan episode here has been misplaced by a cycle, and took place in 1432/3. 110 Huai Mae Jim, then the second city of Nan, now in Amphoe Tha Pla, Uttaradit (W). 111 Phra That Jedi Chae Haeng, outside Nan (W). 107

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city of Saluang.112 Nai Sam On took Phraya Kaen Thao to stay in the monk-quarters of Phra Mahathera Phrom, who had him looked after. Then military officers of Phraya Chaliang went to catch elephants at Tron,113 and got around sixty bull and cow elephants. Phra Mahathera Phrom had an ascetic114 come to speak to Phraya Chaliang at that elephant pen, saying, “Your son, Phraya Kaen Thao, has already fled with Nai Sam On to Sawang, and is staying in the monk-quarters of Phra Mahathera Phrom, who has sent me to give you this news.” When Phraya Chaliang knew, he was very happy indeed. He ordered them to harness up elephants and horses to go and fetch Phraya Kaen Thao. When he arrived, Phraya Kaen Thao paid respect to his father, Phraya Chaliang, and reported about Phra[ya] Phaeng and Phraya Lim seizing the city of Nan, and Phra[ya] Kaen Thao fleeing to come and tell everything to Phraya Chaliang. Phraya Chaliang took Phraya Kaen Thao down to pay respect to Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao. On arrival in the city of Ayutthaya, Phraya Chaliang reported about Phraya Phaeng and Phraya Lim seizing the city of Nan, and Phraya Kaen Fa fleeing. Everything was told to HM the King. Then Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao expressed His compassion for Phraya Kaen Thao and bestowed rewards on both the Phraya who took leave of Phra Boromarachathirat Jao and returned to the city of Chaliang.115 Jao Yat’s rebellion: part 2 Meanwhile in the royal capital, a certain seer116 heard that an order of the king had been issued to send Jao Yat to Ayutthaya. The seer examined the horoscope of Jao Yat and found that Jao Yat would have merit. SIDE C [five lines illegible] ... that since his royal son Phra Nakhon In has died in this way, there should be someone to rule the realm in the royal capital. Then all the lords and venerable Phraya councillors said, “As the royal capital is a great royal capital city, not a small place, to send councillors and ministers to rule there is not befitting. We, your humble servants, all approve sending Phraya Phraek to stay and rule himself.” Then Phra Boromarachathirat Jao made a royal command, saying, “The Phraya have spoken thus, and that is good, but it is feared that in future disputes will arise.” Then the Phraya requested, “Let your servant Khun Si Bat be the military chief,117 and สหลวง, probably a miscopying of Sawang(khaburi), their destination two lines above. MV read it as Sa Luang. 113 Around thirty kilometres south of Uttaradit down the Nan River. 114 ปะขาว, pakhao. 115 This story is resumed below in the section, Restoration of Kaen Thao of Nan: part 2. 116 หดุงขอม, dung khom (W). 117 ขุนพล, khun phon, predecessor of Kalahom (W, 83). Khun Si Bat is the son of Phraya Thepmongkhon (see the section on Death of Phraya Thepmongkhon below). 112

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Khun Song Phra In be the patron118 as before; let Khun Rachasak, Khun Krainarai119 stay to remind that all of us, your servants, have no grounds for suspicion at all.” Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao gave orders following the lords, and gave the seal of the Garuda vehicle120 to the lords to take Chaophraya Phraek to rule the realm in the royal capital, and had Jao Mae Thao Intharabutri to be his queen. Later, the king of [Ya]sodhara[pura]121 made Khun Nakhonchai head of brigade to take troops to fight Jao Yat and Pa Wiset,122 who marched elephants, horses, and troops to Prey Veng.123 There was a defile so Khun Nakhonchai detailed around 300 men to go and look. These 300 went by night. While on the road, they were very cold and went to sleep. Khun Nakhonchai detailed one group to go and look. When they saw those gone before sleeping, they had all their weapons collected. When they woke up, they returned to Khun Nakhonchai’s army. Khun Nakhonchai punished them, and then returned their weapons to them. Then Khun Nakhonchai marched the elephants, horses, and troops to fight with Jao Yat at that defile. Jao Yat detailed Khmer, Chong, and Pear124 to go out to intercept and shoot, left and right, front and rear. Khun Nakhonchai was thus defeated. His elephant took him off but he did not fall. The elephant, Samphlueng, was lost to the enemy. The Kamphut125 people gave chase and killed many troops at that time. Jao Yat then took the elephants, horses, and troops and fled to Truen-at for about one month. Then he came and was able to take Ban Sun126 and march to Jong Koep.127 Khun Kamhaengphet who ruled the city there, defended strongly. Jao Yat could not take the city, so withdrew his troops as a ruse. Then HM the King of the royal capital detailed Khun Kraiphonsen to go to help Khun Kamhaengphet to defend the city of Jong Koep. The city people trusted that Jao Yat had already retired. After around eight or nine days, Jao Yat brought only shock troops,128 who rushed into the attack and were able to take the city. Khun Kraiphonsen and Khun Kamhaengphet fled to survive back to See footnote 72. In the Three Seals Law, Khun Krainarai is phalat thun chalong (deputy), sakdina 1,000, under Siracha Decho, one of the two military chiefs in Kalahom, but Rachasak has been demoted to a khun dap, sakdina 500 in the great guard of the left under Kalahom (KTSD I, 280, 288). 120 The earliest source showing the Ayutthaya king using the Garuda as symbol of kingship (W). 121 i.e., Angkor, hence meaning Chaophraya Phraek, hereafter usually referred to as “the king of the royal capital.” 122 Perhaps a name associated with Chachoengsao. In 1593/4, a “Phra Wiset of the city of Chachoengsao” appears in Naresuan’s army (RCA, 142; MV, 72). 123 เปรียงเพรวะ, phriang phrewa, now Prey Veng, east of Phnom Penh. 124 Chong and Pear (Por) are Mon-Khmer-speaking ethnic minorities, now present in only small numbers. 125 กัมพุช, apparently meaning the three groups referred to above. 126 บ้านสูน, possibly Suong, north of Phnom Penh, which would be consistent with the next footnote. 127 จงเกิบ; unknown, but one possibility is a place found on the 19th century Royal Siamese Maps, labelled as บ้านจังโกด, ban jang kot, south of Babaur near an outcrop of hills (Santanee and Stott, Royal Siamese maps, map 10, 138–9). Yat seems to be working his way westward to the area below the great lake. 128 คนเร็ว, khon rew, fast people. 118 119

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the royal capital, losing all the migrant families of Khun Kamhaengphet. Later Khun Kraiphonsen informed HM the King of the royal capital that Khun Kamhaengphet was siding with Jao Yat, and had sent his wife and children to him. The king thus had Khun Kamhaengphet questioned. He said, “If I am truly siding with Jao Yat in that way, could Khun Kraiphonsen have escaped and survived?129 Besides, I, your servant, fought strongly with them and thus survived.” The king thus had Khun Kamhaengphet’s wounds examined and saw it was true. He thus gave him another wife, and sent him back to rule Jong Koep. Later Jao Yat sent someone to talk with Khun Kamhaengphet and inform him that Khun Kamhaengphet’s wives and children, whom Jao Yat had taken, were still kept together by Jao Yat, and had not been scattered apart. If Khun Kamhaengphet went to attend on Jao Yat, Jao Yat would take care of him to make him happy. Khun Kamhaengphet did not side with Jao Yat, who then marched elephants, horses, and troops to take back the city of Jong Koep. On arrival, he had them climb into the town, sack it, take it, and capture Khun Kamhaengphet in person. Jao Yat sent back all the wives, children and servants of Khun Kamhaengphet, who had been taken before, and took care of him to make him happy. Later Jao Yat sent Yi Changthong and Nang Siphongsa to talk with all the mahaphak who were in Pasanti.130 All the mahaphak came over to Jao Yat. So HM the King of the royal capital detailed Khun Si Mongkhonrat, Khun Song Phra In, and Khun Rachasak to march elephants, horses, and troops to take Yi Changthong and the mahaphak who were living in Pasanti. So Yi Changthong and the mahaphak came out to fight with Khun Mongkhonrat and his troops, who retreated to Chaturamukh, and lost elephants, horses, all their weapons, victory gongs, horns, and musical instruments. Yi Changthong and the mahaphak followed them to Chaturamukh. Khun Si Mongkhonrat and Khun Rachasak fled from Chaturamukh to the royal capital. Jao Yat prepared a naval force that waited in ambush at Lawaek and captured many war boats and people. Then Nai Noi Kroek Hiu Khaen, his father Khun Song Phra In, and Khun Rachasak escaped. The troops of Jao Yat’s navy captured Khun Kamhaeng, his wives, children, and also minor wives.131 Khun Rachasak and his officers, who escaped, retreated to the royal capital. As for Khun Theparat, who the king sent to rule the city of Salai,132 when he learned that Jao Yat had gone over to befriend the mahaphak, {he brought} his ace troops133 to fight and take all the cities and villages in this way. Khun Theparat and his nobles134 In the original, there is a fongman symbol here. ปาสานติ, unknown, but probably in western Cambodia, perhaps the same as a 19th century “Basan” now in Takeo province, and perhaps the same as Pathai Kasem in the LP chronicle for CS 806, as both names can be interpreted as meaning “place of peace” (RCA, 16, l.6; MV, 64–5; Vickery, “Cambodia and its neighbours,” 292). 131 บำ�โหราบาล, bamhoraban, meaning บำ�เรอบาท, bamroebat, minor wives or female servants (W). 132 สลาย, unknown, possibly a place that appears on the Royal Siamese Maps (113–4) north of Pursat as สวายยง, sawai yong. 133 ขมัง, khamang, expert troops (W), “probably” (MV). 134 ลูกขุน, luk khun, which in this text seems to be used as a collective term for those with titles. 129 130

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prepared tribute to bring to present to HM the King of the royal capital. When they reached Pasanti, they met a patrol of Jao Yat which detained Khun Theparat, his khun, muen, and migratory families,135 who had come, including Mae Nang Phra, Mae Nang Sai, Mae Nang Butri, Mae Nang Som, Mae Nang Akharat, and Mae Nang Khongrat, who were the wives and children of all the khun and muen. All were detained and taken to Jao Yat, who took all these women as wives, and distributed the captured property of silver and gold to the soldiers. Chachoengsao Angkor Battambang

Chanthaburi

Salai Pursat

Krakor Ko

Babaur Jong Koep Sun

Cheung Prey

Lawaek location known location guessed

Chaturamukh

above 200 m.

Prey Veng

50 kms

Figure 1. Map of Cambodia showing places mentioned in the text

A little later, Pa Wiset136 came to Jao Yat, who gave Mae Nang Khongrat to Pa Wiset, who performed an anointment of Jao Yat as Chaophraya Yat at Babaur.137 Then Pa Wiset assembled troops and took Muen Toet Songsan with him, but Phraya Yat had all the cities: Chaturamukh and Muen Nara, ruler of the city of Phetinthara,138 city of Lawaek, city of Kamphaeng Phaisi,139 city of Traphang Phlang,140 city of Babaur, city of Ko,141 and city of Katok;142 and he had Toet Songsan rule the city of Kato.143 Phraya Yat stayed

135 136

ครัวอพยพ, khrua ophayop, people swept up and displaced as war prisoners or in recruiting drives. บาวิเสด, the prefix suggests he has been a monk, and the name suggests he may be credited with

supernormal powers. บาบูรร, babun, at the lower end of the Tonle Sap. 138 เพชรอินทร, unknown. 139 กำ�แพงไพศรี, unknown. 140 ตระพังพลัง, unknown. 141 เกอะ; perhaps the same as ดอนขอ, don kho, between Babaur and Pouthisat on Santanee and Stott, Royal Siamese maps, 116–7. 142 กตอก, possibly Krakor, just north-west of Babaur along the Tonle Sap. 143 กะตอ, unknown. 137

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at Cheung Prey.144 Phraya Wiset stayed at Phirenthara.145 Yi Chang Thong stayed at Chaturamukh. Khun Sophrue stayed at Lawaek. Khun Theparat stayed at Babaur. Khun Kamhaengphet stayed at Traphang Phlang. Nai Thammaracha stayed at Jong Koep.146 Then HM the King of the royal city had Nai Longphat detail people to come secretly to inform Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao that Khun Nakhonchai had let Jao Yat go and that Jao Yat went over to befriend all the mahaphak, being a great rebellion, “I beg your majesty’s compassion.” When a servant came to inform on the matter in this way, Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao gave a royal command to his son, HM the King of the royal capital, and the lords that there was a war in Ayutthaya, and had Khun Nakhonchai and Nai Longpat147 come at once.148 As for the lords and generals, he had them stay with the Chaophraya.149 When the royal order reached HM the King of the royal capital, he had Khun Nakhonchai and Nai Longpat come to Ayutthaya. Khun Nakhonchai arrived. Somdet Phra Boromarachathirat Jao had all the venerable councillors examine the case, and when they found it true, He had Khun Nakhonchai executed, along with Khun Song Thuan and Nai Yi Hun, sons of Khun Nakhonchai. He then appointed Nai Longpat as military chief, and put Khun Kamhaeng Phra Inthon in place of Khun Longpat as partner of Khun Ramason. As for Khun Pha Wang, the palat, and Khun Phra Sisai, earlier when Khun Nakhonchai asked the king for the bull elephant, Khian Phlonlon, to look after, the king150 said he could. At that time Khun Pha Wang said that an elephant that had won-at-tusks,151 such as this, should not be far from the royal foot, hence the nobles {ruled}, “If it is anyone else, it is improper, but this royal servant, Khun Nakhonchai, is His military chief.” The king then averted His face and left. Khun Pha Wang then did not ask for the king’s mercy in private.152 Besides, there was no {royal} order, so Khun Phrasi sent that elephant to Khun Nakhonchai himself. The king had Khun Pha Wang jailed with Thaluangfan,153 and appointed Nai Si, son of Khun Phrasi, as Khun Si Rachawang Mueang154 instead. 144 145

เชียงไพร, chiang phrai, north-east of Phnom Penh. พิเรนธร, probably the same as Phiren above; unknown.

Khun Theparat and Khun Kamhaengphet have gone over to Yat. Two others in this list, Khun Sophrue and Nai Thammaracha, have names that suggest they were originally Ayutthaya appointees (W, 87). 147 ลงพัด, an officer who waves flags to signal troop movements in battle (W, 88). 148 The “war” is a ruse to get them to Ayutthaya. Khun Nakhonchai is made the scapegoat for the failure to prevent Yat’s rise. 149 Chaophraya Phraek, king of the royal capital (Angkor). 150 Winai suggests ว่า here should be พระ. 151 ชนะงา, chana nga, meaning he had triumphed in a contest with another elephant (W). 152 The king has given his approval, yet Khun Pha Wang questioned his ruling in public, and thus has offended the king (W). 153 ทะลวงฟัน, thaluang fan, “stab and slash” officers, officers in the department of the palace overseeing royal consorts, 600 sakdina. They oversaw a jail inside the palace (KTSD 1: 246–7; Baker and Pasuk, Ayutthaya Palace Law, 105, 131). 154 ขุนศรีราชวังเมือง, possibly Luang Rachawang Mueang Suriyachati, head of the left division of elephants, sakdina 3,000, who also appears in Yuan phai (KTSD, I, 250; Baker and Pasuk, Yuan Phai, 42). 146

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As for Chaophraya Yat, he brought the mahaphak, around 10,000, left and right, front and rear, and put Phraya Wiset in command of the vanguard, to march from the city of Nokaban.155 The phak marched to Pursat,156 so Khun Song Phra Inthon, the city ruler there, came out in defence. Phraya Yat and Phraya Wiset were defeated and retreated to Cheung Prey. After a short time, Phraya Yat and Phraya Wiset marched elephants and troops and took Pursat. At that time, Phraya Wiset brought an army and established it in the district of Phorang,157 not making a camp. As for Phraya Yat, he came and established at Pursat and had them make a camp, digging a moat and rampart, a dance-spread fence,158 guns,159 and spikes160 for security. Phraya Yat came to surround Pursat. After around five days, Khun Thep Songkhram from Chantabun marched elephants, horses, and troops to reach Pursat. Khun Song Phra-in and Khun Thep Songkhram prepared elephants, horses, and troops to come out to oppose. Phraya Yat and Phraya Wiset were defeated. All the troops pursued and attacked them. At that time, Khun Thep Songkhram, riding the bull elephant, Phuban, charged after the enemy all on his own. Muen Toet Songsan was riding the bull elephant, Rattana Ballang, much smaller than Phlai Phuban. When he saw Khun Thep Songkhram was isolated and there was nobody else close, he goaded Phlai Rattana Ballang to sneak up and duck under the chin of Phlai Phuban. Toet Songsan struck the helmet of Khun Thep Songkhram, which fell. Nai Jakkarat, who was in middle position on Toet Songsan’s elephant, stabbed the eye of Khun Thep Songkhram. Toet Songsan slashed Khun Thep Songkhram dead on the neck of his elephant. At that time, Nai Toet Songsan was hit by five arrows. Phraya Yat was hit by an arrow in the arm, which hurt so badly he could not stay and withdrew to Thuan Babun.161 Later, someone came to steal the elephant Rattana Singhat but, having gone to Pursat, was caught by Nai Toet Songsan, who said, “This elephant should go to Chaophraya Yat.” When he knew Toet Songsan had this elephant, Chaophraya Yat rode the elephant, Saphlueng, from Cheung Prey to meet Phraya Wiset at Traphang Phlang. On arrival, he said, “I came to ask for the elephant.” Phraya Wiset said, “Speak with Toet Songsan.” นอกบาล, perhaps a miscopied place name (W). MV has “from the outer areas.” โพธิสัตว์, phothisat. 157 โพร้าง, unknown. 158 ราวรำ�แพน, rao ramphaen, an unknown defensive structure, using a word describing a peacock 155 156

or other bird dancing with tail and wings spread; perhaps with spikes. อามรา, amra, similar to words for cannon found in Burmese, Mon, and Lanna. Chinese cannon were known in Vietnam from the first decade of the 15th century, and were carried on the vessels of the Cheng Ho voyages in the 1420s (see Sun, “Chinese-style gunpowder weapons,” “Chinese military technology transfers”). Alternatively this may be some other defensive device. 160 ขวากหนาม, khwak nam, spikes made from metal or hardened bamboo, embedded in the ground. 161 ถวนบาบูร. Winai thinks this is a place in Chaturamukh, as it appears two paragraphs down, spelt slightly differently and apparently in Chaturamukh. Alternatively, this is Babaur, one of Yat’s strongholds and close at hand, hence a likely refuge. On the Royal Siamese Maps, Babaur is given as เมืองบริบูน, mueang boribun, and perhaps this was distorted to thuan babun by copyists. Babaur could be considered in the region of Chaturamukh when viewed from western Cambodia. (Santanee and Stott, Royal Siamese maps, 138–9, 154–5). 159

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Phraya Yat had Toet Songsan fetched to talk. Toet Songsan said, “I got this elephant, and will ride it in your service.” Phraya Yat said, “I have come to exchange elephants. If you will not exchange, then let it be as you wish.” The Phraya returned to his city. Later, Phraya Yat used a ruse to send for Toet Songsan, who went to tell Phraya Wiset. Phraya Wiset forbade Toet Songsan to go. A little later, Phraya Yat sent for him {again}. Toet Songsan went to tell Phraya Wiset, who forbade him {again}. Toet Songsan did not listen. He took two hua phan and 500 troops to meet Phraya Yat. Phraya Yat had Toet Songsan and the two hua phan captured and securely imprisoned. As for the 500 troops, he had them put in yokes.162 Then Chaophraya Yat sent someone to bring Phraya Wiset, put him in jail for three days, put him on a boat down to Chaturamukh, and executed him. As for Toet Songsan and the two hua phan, they were executed in Cheung Prey. Then he brought all the migratory families to enter Chaturamukh and go to Thuan Barabon.163 Then Chaophraya Yat appointed Nai Thammarat as Luang Thepracha. As for Yi Changthong, he was given the name Jao Khun Luang. Death of Phraya Thepmongkhon Then Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao gave Mae Nang Kongphaeng, daughter of Khun Thep Songkhram, ruler of Chantaburi,164 to Yi Chaiya and had Yi Chaiya rule the city of Chantaburi instead. Later, Phraya Thepmongkhon,165 who was a venerable councillor, fell sick, went out to stay at Ban Chathing,166 and passed away. Thus, Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao had one dun167 of gold brought from the royal treasury to make an urn for the funeral168 of the corpse. Then He had Khun Si Bat, who was the son, brought from the royal capital to receive the inheritance. As for Khun Prachanon, the younger brother, He had him enter royal service as a venerable councillor in his stead.169 162 163

กลัง, klang, a shaming device, made from lengths of bamboo strung around the neck. ถวนบารบร, see footnote 161.

Who died above. Most likely, this is the general who led the 1431/2 expedition to Angkor, and who accompanied Chaophraya Phraek to Angkor. The funeral urn and the honours given to his children indicate his importance. 166 บ้านฉทิงก์, unknown. 167 ดุลย์, a measure equivalent to 1,600 baht or twenty-four kilograms. 168 สงสการ, songsakan, from ส่งสักการะ, song sakkara, “send to worship,” an old term for funeral ceremonies. 169 The story of Yat’s revolt has no ending here. According to the Luang Prasoet Chronicle, in CS 806, CE 1444/5, which may be soon after the events described above, King Boromracha led an army to ปราบพรรค, prap phak, subdue the phak, using the same term used for Yat’s supporters in this text, and took 120,000 prisoners (RCA, 16, l.4-7). Perhaps this was a response to Yat’s rise. In this chronicle, the site of the battle is given as Pathai Kasem, which might be the same as Pasanti (W, 91–2). The Lawaek Chronicle states that Yat had Chaophraya Phraek killed. This is not found in any Thai source. However, the fact that King Boromaracha led this expedition himself might suggest the expedition was a reaction to his son’s death. 164 165

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Restoration of Kaen Thao of Nan: part 2 In 846, year of the rat,170 second month, Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao sent {someone} up to fetch Phraya Chaliang, Mahathammaracha, Phraya Ramarat, and Phraya Saen Soi Dao. At that time, Phraya Chaliang entrusted the city of Sawankhalok to Jao Rachasi, who was his son. Phraya Thammaracha entrusted the city of Phitsanulok to Phraya Hem. Phraya Ramarat entrusted the city of Sukhothai to Phraya Thammaracha and Traisuan. Phraya Saen Soi Dao entrusted the city of Kamphaeng Phet to Phraya Siwaphakdi. All the Phraya came down to Ayutthaya. On their arrival, the king assembled the lords, generals, and councillors at a teaching hall in a temple precinct,171 gave opportunity to the four Phraya to pay respect to the royal foot, and gave a royal command to the four Phraya, “What can be done to have the Phraya of Nan go out to be our dependent territory?” 172 Phraya Saen Soi Dao and Phraya Ramarat addressed the king, “Nan is adjacent to the city of Chaliang. And Phraya Kaen Thao has also come to stay in that city. May the king leave this to be the duty of your servant, the Phraya of Chaliang, alone. If there is a war, we all, your servants, beg to take elephants, horses, and troops to help.” Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao gave orders accordingly. Then Phraya Chaliang addressed the king, saying, “If it cannot be taken in friendship but {must be taken} by warfare, does your majesty wish it taken?” He replied, “Whatever is done to take it, I cannot criticise the Phraya.” Phraya Chaliang then addressed the king, saying, “My forces, sire, are weak. The people of Phrae and people of Nan have 20,000 troops, elephants, and horses, all high-spirited. If I can take it, it will be through the power of your accumulated merit.” Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao gave orders to the three Phraya, saying, “If Phraya Chaliang goes to take the city of Nan, you all provide 2,000 troops, twenty decorated elephants, and 200 horses, prepared in time for royal service; that is, all of you be loyal to me.” The lords took their leave of the king and returned to their cities, except Phraya Saen who stayed to attend on the royal foot in Ayutthaya. As for Phraya Chaliang, when he returned to the city of Sawankhalok he left all matters to Muen Luang Phon, who had a letter sent to Phan Harakong in the city of Nan. Phan Harakong was of the same mind as Muen Luang Phon, and sent a letter saying, “Have Phraya Jao quickly march elephants, horses, and troops, forthwith to go together right now.” All the Lao came to tell Khun Nong Khwang in Traitrueng.173 Nong Khwang raised about 6,000 battle troops, along with elephants and horses, and had all the migratory families go to the city of Chiang Mai. The date is clearly wrong. As noted above, according to the Nan and Chiang Mai chronicles, these events took place earlier. Perhaps the date should be CS 798, CE 1436/7, also a year of the rat. This opening sentence may refer to the visit of the northern lords to Ayutthaya at the end of the first part of this story above. 171 เปรียญพุทธาวาส, parian phutthawat. 172 Meaning to restore the usurped ruler of Nan as a dependent of Ayutthaya. 173 An old city on the west bank of the Ping River, about fifteen kilometres below Kamphaeng Phet. 170

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When the letter reached Muen Luang, he took the matter to tell Phraya Chaliang, who prepared elephants, horses and troops, and sent a letter to bring troops quickly of the three large head cities which would go together on the route of the march. At that time spies174 came to talk to ... SIDE D ... Siwaphakdi, who had them talk to Phraya Saen who addressed the matter to Somdet Phra Borommarachathirat Jao. The king ordered that, “If that is the case, Phraya Saen [should return] immediately.” Phraya Saen paid respect to take leave of the royal foot [and returned to] the city of Kamphaeng Phet. As for Jao Siwaphakdi, he spoke to Jao Fa Fung, Muen Krai Kamphaeng, Phraya Ramarat, and Mahathammaracha, “I will go to Traitrueng myself.”175 Then Jao Siwaphakdi appointed Jao Fa Fung and Jao Krai Kam[phaeng] to take 5,000 along with elephants and horses to march to Traitrueng. When [Phraya] Saen reached Kamphaeng Phet, he prepared elephants, horses and troops [as a land army] and a boat army. When ready, he had Jao Siwaphakdi command the vanguard and march up to [Jao] Fa Fung and Krai Kamphaeng, and on arrival to enter {the city} immediately. The city people fought strongly in defence. The troops of Phraya Saen [were hit] by weapons and many fell dead or were injured, so they retired from the battle and returned down. Then [Phraya] Saen sent Phan Un and Phan Bunkrai to Phraya Chaliang to speak on the matter which they had discussed together before.176 When Phan Un and Phan Bunkrai arrived, they spoke to Phraya Chaliang as Phraya Saen had ordered on every point. Phraya Chaliang then sent both to tell Phi Phraya177 that, “I will take this city for Phi Phraya myself.” Phan Un and Phan [Bun]krai went up to tell Phraya Saen according to the words of Phraya Chaliang in every [detail]. Phraya Chaliang then marched elephants, horses and troops to Phraya Saen. He had Jao [Fa] Fung and Jao Krai Kamphaeng march as the vanguard. When they reached Chiang Thong,178 the spies said, “They reported that Maharat179 has died, and the [city people] were all taken into the city of Chiang Mai. Now they know that Maharat has not [died] and the city people have all returned. They are all in their home cities [as before].” Jao Fa Fung and Jao Krai Kamphaeng then sent word to Jao Siwaphakdi [who] ชาวคอย, chao khoi, “waiting people,” intelligence agents. The events here are not very clear. The plan to attack Nan, plus rumours of the death of the King of Chiang Mai, seems to have provoked a conspiracy in Traitrueng to rebel against its overlord in Kamphaeng Phet. The ruler of Kamphaeng Phet hurries back from Ayutthaya to quell this revolt, but his force is defeated, and he calls for help from Phraya Chaliang. Phraya Chaliang marches his force first to subdue Chiang Thong, which, perhaps, is also part of the revolt. Only after both Chiang Thong and Traitrueng are settled, do they again focus on Nan. This incident displays the complexity of politics in the Northern Cities and Lanna. 176 Namely, that they would co-operate. 177 Meaning Phraya Saen Soi Dao, who is presumably his elder. 178 An old city on the Ping River, close to present-day Tak. 179 The King of Chiang Mai. 174 175

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told Phraya Saen, who went to tell Phraya Chaliang to prepare elephants and horses to march up. When they arrived, Jao Fa Fung and Jao Krai Kamphaeng came to tell all about the battle to Phraya Saen. Jao Siwaphakdi said, “Only these cities, [if you] cannot take them, it’s fitting for you to wear a skirt.” Jao Fa Fung and Jao [Krai Kam]phaeng, marched the army and established in the district of Mae Tak, distant from the city [about ...] sen. They stayed two days to prepare the troops to enter the city in disguise and sack it ... [Here the text jumps from the attack on Chiang Thong to Traitrueng. Some six lines have probably been skipped by a copyist] ... defend as well as you can. Do not disappoint on royal service.” Phraya Saen and Phraya Chaliang [inspected] all the troops, had bamboo climbing poles180 prepared to run up and lean {against the walls}, and arranged together [to] enter and sack the city: “Have them listen for the sound of our gong. If anyone fails to obey [orders] they will be severely punished. At dusk, have everything prepared [and ready].” Then around the time children went to sleep, Phraya Chaliang was able to march the troops along with elephants and horses into the city. As for Muen Nong Khwang, he mounted an elephant with his wives and went out into the midst of the troops, who crowded around and captured Muen Nong Khwang and his wives. As for Muen Kham Khon Chao and Jao Krai Kamhaeng, they obtained elephants [, horses?], Muen Nong Khwang, and one betel set. They brought this to Jao Siwa[phakdi, who] gave it to the wife of Muen Dao Thong. Muen Kham Khon Chao and Jao Krai Kamhaeng took that bull elephant and gave it to Jao Siwaphakdi. As for Muen H...kaya, he [...] one person and Prue Paron took the swordsmen and shieldmen of the right out [...] Then Phraya Saen and Phraya Chaliang entered the city, halted their elephants in the parade ground to sp[eak] together. Phraya Saen said to Phraya Chaliang, “As arranged, they were to hear the s[ound] of our gong to come in and sack, but why have you had them sack it first?” Phraya Chaliang summoned Ja Ngua and asked, “Did you hear something and so quickly had them scale the city, or did you not hear the order.” Ja Ngua said, “I heard the loud sound of the gong, and so ordered them to enter and sack {the city}.” Phraya Saen said, “What Ja Ngua says here, he’s playing tricks on us.” Phraya Chaliang laughed, and both Phraya went out to the army. Phraya Chaliang said, “That’s finished as far as it can be,” and then [...] had Jao Krai Kamphaeng rule the city of Traitrueng, and left 5,000 troops along with elephants, [horses,] and various stuff because of fear of the soldiers living in that city. Phraya Chaliang and [the army] halted there. Phraya Chaliang had them prepare a l[etter] and sent it secretly to Muen Luang Phon and all the saen, khun, muen [who were friendly] with Phraya Kaen Thao in the city of Nan. Muen Luang Phon had all the saen and muen sent back, saying, “If you come now, Phraya, that is very good. We have not forgotten the virtue of Phraya Kaen Thao. Bring Phraya Kaen Thao, who is our lord, for us to see.” Then retainers of Phraya Chaliang went up to talk to Phraya Chaliang about this matter that Muen Luang Phon [and] all the saen and muen had said in full detail. 180

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When Phraya Chaliang had [heard] such words spoken by the people of Nan, Phraya Chaliang sent for Mo Phrommakho[t] and asked, “If we go to take the city of Nan now, will we get it?” Mo Phrommakhot said, “If you go now you will take the city,” and said, “you will get it for the person there [before, namely Phraya Kaen Thao].” Phraya Chaliang inspected the elephants, horses, and troops. After three days, he marched [them all] out for training on the sand beach. He had a letter sent to Maha[thammaracha], Phraya Ramarat, and Phraya Saen Soi Dao that there was an order from the king that there was a royal command before then.181 Phraya Chaliang left the city of Sawankhalok to Jao Rachasi Yot, his son, Muen Jai Khwang, Khun Nakhonchai, along with all the nak prut182 and the monk-quarter servants,183 temple servants,184 around 3,000. Phraya Chaliang sent to Jao Rachasi Yot, saying, “If the three Phraya return the elephant to us at any time, send it on quickly to catch up with our army. In addition, if our [elder brother] Mahathammaracha arrives, have him be acting governor of the city too.” Chaophraya Chaliang, having given this order, marched the elephants, horses, and troops ... Achnowledgements Thanks to David Chandler, Peter Skilling, Santi Pakdeekham, Jacques Leider, and Pat McCormick.

References Baker, Chris and Pasuk Phongpaichit. 2017. A history of Ayutthaya, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baker, Chris and Pasuk Phongpaichit. 2016. The Ayutthaya Palace Law and the Thammasat: law and kingship in Siam, Ithaca NY: Cornell SEAP. Baker, Chris and Pasuk Phongpaichit, tr. and ed. 2016. Yuan phai, defeat of Lanna: A fifteenthcentury Thai epic poem, Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Cushman, Richard D. (tr.). 2000. The royal chronicles of Ayutthaya, Bangkok: Siam Society. Kotmai tra sam duang [Three Seals Code], 5 vols. 1994. Bangkok: Khurusapha. Nidhi Eoseewong. 2005. Pen and sail: literature and history in early Bangkok, ed. Chris Baker and Ben Anderson, Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Phiset Jiajanphong. 2003. Phra maha thammaracha kasatrathirat: kan mueang nai prawatisat yuk sukhothai-ayutthaya [King Maha Thammaracha: politics in the history of the Sukhothai-Ayutthaya era], Bangkok: Sinlapa Watthanatham. Phraracha phongsawadan krung kao chabap luang prasoet [Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya, Luang Prasoet Edition]. 2001. Bangkok: Saengdao. Polkinghorne, Martin, Christophe Pottier, and Christian Fischer. “Evidence for the 15th century That they should co-operate to reinstall Kaen Thao at Nan. นักพฤทธิ,์ perhaps advisory ministers (W). 183 พลเชงกุฏี, phon choeng kuti, servants who wash monks feet before they enter their quarters (W). 184 คลบาล, kholaban, miscopying of คีลบาล, khilaban (W). 181 182

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Ayutthayan occupation of Angkor,” in The Renaissance Princess Lectures, Bangkok: Siam Society, forthcoming. Santi Pakdeekham. 2011. Khamen rop thai [Khmer wars with the Thai], Bangkok: Sinlapa Watthanatham. Santi Pakdeekham. 2014. Yutthamakha senthang doen thap thai-khamen [Strategic roads: routes for Thai and Khmer armies], Bangkok: Sinlapa Watthanatham. Santi Pakdeekham. 2015. “Silajaruek khun sichaiyaratmongkhonthep” [Khun Sichaiya Ratmongkhonthep inscription], in Sapjampa phiphithaphan sapjampa jangwat lopburi [Sap Champa Museum Lop Buri], Bangkok: Amarin. Santanee Phasuk and Philip Stott. 2004. Royal Siamese maps: war and trade in nineteenth century Thailand, Bangkok: River Books. Sun Laichen. 2011. “Chinese-style gunpowder weapons in Southeast Asia: Focussing on archeological evidence” in Michael Aung-Thwin and Kenneth R. Hall (ed.), New perspectives on the history and historiography of Southeast Asia: continuing explorations, London: Routledge, 75–111. Sun Laichen. 2003. “Military technology transfers from Ming China and the emergence of northern Mainland Southeast Asia (c. 1390–1527),” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 34, 3, 495–517. Suphawat Kasemsi, MR. 2002. “Phra aiyakan kao tamnaeng na huamueang chabap ayutthaya” [An old registrar of official positions in provincial towns of Ayutthaya], in Winai Pongsripian and Pridi Phitphumiwithi (ed.), Sichamaiyachan [Two illustrious teachers], Bangkok: Ministry of Culture. Reprinted in Thi raluek nai kan sadet phrarachadamnoen phraratchathan phloengsop phontri mom rachawong suphawat kasemsi [Memorial volume from the royally sponsored cremation of Major-General MR Suphawat Kasemsi], Wat Thepsirin, 3 November 2016, 141–54 (pagination from this one). Vickery, Michael. 2010. “Cambodia and its neighbours in the 15th century,” in Geoff Wade and Sun Laichen (eds.), Southeast Asia in the fifteenth century: the China factor, Singapore and Hong Kong: NUS Press and Hong Kong University Press, 271–303. Vickery, Michael. 1977. “The 2/K.125 fragment, a lost chronicle of Ayutthaya,” Journal of the Siam Society, 65, 1, 1–80. Wade, Geoff, Southeast Asia in the Ming Shi-lu: an open access resource, Singapore: Asia Research Institute and the Singapore E-Press, National University of Singapore, http:// epress.nus.edu.sg/msl/entry/500. [Wade, Southeast Asia online] Watanyu Fakthong. 2011. “Jaruek khun si chaiyarat mongkhonthep” [Inscription of Khun Si Chaiyarat Mongkhonthep] in 100 ekkasan samkhan: sapphasara prawatisat thai lamdap thi 7 [100 key documents: essence of Thai history, no. 7], Bangkok: Thailand Research Fund, 29–53. Winai Pongsripian. 2012. “Phrarachaphongsawadan krung si Ayutthaya chabap ho phra samut wachirayan (chabap plik mai lek tabian 222 2/k 104)” [Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya, Wachirayan Edition: the 222 2/k 104 fragment], 100 ekkasan samkhan: sapphasara prawatisat thai lamdap thi 13 [100 key documents on Thai history, no. 13], Bangkok: Thailand Research Fund. Winai Pongsripian et al. 2012. Phojananukrom kham kao nai phasa thai chabap chaloeisak [Dictionary of old words in Thai, unofficial edition], Bangkok: Sirindhorn Anthropological Center. Wyatt, David K. and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo. 1995. The Chiang Mai chronicle, Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Wyatt, David. K. (tr. and ed.). 1994. The Nan chronicle, Ithaca NY: Cornell SEAP.

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Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit

“Sukhothai”

female = Lithai

Si Chulalak = Maha Thammaracha = Mae Nang Sakha

female = Bala Mueang (Maha Thammaracha)

Yuthisthira

“Suphanburi”

female = Pha-ngua

Nakhon In = female

female = Boromracha

Trailokanat

Figure 1. Exchange of marriage partners between the Sukhothai and Suphanburi families. Adapted from Phiset, Phra maha Adapted from Phiset, Phra maha thammaracha, 90. thammaraha, 90.

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The Invention of “Isan” History Akiko Iijima

Abstract—In 1899, a new name, Monthon Tawan-ok Chiang Nuea (Northeastern Circle), was introduced into the incipient provincial administration system by the Siamese government to replace the former name, Monthon Lao Kao. The term Lao, denoting “racial” peculiarities from the Siamese point of view, was removed from the new name indicating directions from the centre, Bangkok. The following year, the name was changed again to “Isan” (from Pali: Northeast) “for shorter and easier pronunciation”, according to the Regulation signed by the Minister of Interior, Prince Damrong Rachanuphap. The designation of “Isan” thus was of the centralizing Siamese origin, being an invention in order to conceal the nonSiamese racial identity of most of the region. It could be argued that the French, after 1893 the overlords of the Lao domain, had to be prevented from using the Lao living on Siamese territory as a tool for further territorial expansion so the Lao-ness was henceforth negated by the Siamese state. In this article, a typescript text of “Isan” history, replete with handwritten marks of erasure and modification, is introduced to demonstrate how the ruling elite of Siam consciously manipulated historical source materials for the purpose of negating the Lao. Importantly, the printed version of this text, which was seriously altered, is contained in the “prestigious” Prachum Phongsawadan (Collected Histories) series, of which publication started in the early 20th century. As the Prachum Phongsawadan has long been considered essential source material for studying Thai history, a radical reappraisal of the whole pantheon of modern Siamese historiography might be suggested from this case study.

Introduction [Entering Udon Circle at Mueang Chonnabot, local people look different....] Since olden days people in Bangkok used to assume that they were Lao. Today, however, we have come to realize quite well that they are Thai, not Lao. (Damrong 1974 [1944]: 304).

The “central Thai” state of Siam, which was established in 1782 with Bangkok as the royal capital, largely inherited the legacy of the Ayutthaya kingdom at the onset. However, this Siam of the Bangkok Dynasty adopted a new guise of a “racially” heterogeneous “empire” by exercising minimal control over outlying frontiers and marginalizing them

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as prathetsarat.1 From the mid-19th century onward, Siam evolved into an expansive, modern territorial state. During this expansion, part of the outlying regions designated as prathetsarat under the existing system of control gradually became incorporated into the incipient modern territorial state of Siam. At the time, Siam was striving to establish a centralized, unified system of administration that would bring the whole of the newly settled space under her suzerainty, i.e. her geo-body (Thongchai 1994). This state building project was carried out by Bangkok-bred royalty and the elite class, who served the government of the fifth king of the dynasty, Chulalongkorn (1853-1910, r. 1868-1910). One of the half-brothers of King Chulalongkorn, Prince Damrong Rachanuphap (1862-1943), led the reform as head of the Ministry of Interior. Prince Damrong became the Minister of Interior in 1892 and held the post until 1915. During his prolonged tenure, Prince Damrong inaugurated and gradually implemented the Thesaphiban (control over territory) system of provincial administration. The major territorial unit of the Thesaphiban structure called monthon (circle)2 was conceptually novel in that it was delineated based on geographical features and placed under jurisdiction of the khaluang thesaphiban (superintendent royal commissioner) dispatched directly from Bangkok (Tej 1977: 101). These elites, while engaged in the abovementioned state building enterprise in key roles in government and administration, also took a keen interest in building a history for the emerging Siamese state. In this field as well, the most conspicuous figure was Prince Damrong, who was later to be exalted as “the Father of Thai historical science” (bida haeng wicha prawattisat thai) (Chatchai 1991: (8), etc.) or “the Father of modern Thai history.”3 As an example of an early attempt at new Siamese historical writing, the author of this paper earlier examined one such elite official of Siam under the Fifth Reign, Chaem Bunnag (Phraya Prachakit Korachak, 1864-1907). I argued that a “story” synthesized by Chaem and titled Phongsawadan Yonok4 (1906) was related to the audience in the 1

Prathetsarat, literally meaning royal state, is often rendered as tributary or vassal (kingdom). In relation to Siam, a prathetsarat theoretically belonged to a hierarchy, on top of which was the supreme overlord, the king of Siam. However, in practice, the rulers of a prathetsarat could pursue protection from other powers, and such submission on the part of the prathetsarat did not prevent it from attempting to preserve its own autonomy or “independence” in other extensive areas excluding some token obligations bound to the overlord (Iijima 2008: 40). 2 The English word for monthon was finally standardized as “circle” in 1921 (Toem 1999: 355). 3 Wyatt wrote, with a handful of early 20th century Siamese writers in mind, “writing modern history―modern, that is, in terms of how it was structured rather than what it covered” (Wyatt 2002: 82). 4 The original Phongsawadan Yonok serialized in the Wachirayan journal was styled “Prawat Lao Chiang” and “Phongsawadan Lao Chiang” (“Prawat…,” Wachirayan , Vol. 10, no. 55: 600-656; “Phongsawadan…,” ibid., no. 55-58 (Apr.-July, 1899). It may be rendered as “History of Lao Chiang.’ “Lao Chiang” was the 19th century Siamese nomenclature for the region that from 1900 onward would be designated “Northwestern Provinces (Monthon tawantok-chiang-nuea, later Monthon Phayap). Damrong’s use of prawat or phongsawadan for history rather than chronicle is discussed by Chatchai (Chatchai 1991: 214-225). Apparently, Chaem, who died in 1907, was not familiar with the word prawattisat meaning history in English, which was supposed to be King Wachirawut’s coinage (ibid., 218). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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capital Bangkok and served to connect the separate history of a northern prathetsarat Chiang Mai to the dynastic history of Siam and to place the lineage of the ruling Chiang Mai family appropriately within the Siamese domain (Iijima 1994; Iijima 1996). The Phongswadan Yonok is listed in a bibliography of “South-east Asian Historical Writing,” which contains writings by Southeast Asians about their past for a domestic audience, published in the 1980s with the comment, “a monumental work on the kingdom of Chiengmai (sic.)” (Reid and Marr eds. 1982: 421). Since Prince Damrong’s many references to Phongsawadan Yonok in his “Commentary” to the Royal Chronicle of Royal Autograph Edition (Damrong 1914), the Phongsawadan Yonok has been frequently utilized as the principal reference source for the history of the northern domain of the modern Siamese state. Recent historians have been aware of the Phongsawadan Yonok’s secondary and compiled nature (Wyatt 1993: 7), but the attitude is sometimes indifferent, as is the case in recourse to it without adequate criticism (Grabowsky 1999: 48, for example). The author-compiler Chaem Bunnag himself briefly explained the background of the book by stating that having searched for indigenous tamnan chronicles, he copied them by transliterating from the Lao or northern Thai script (into the standard or central Thai script), attempted to grasp only the essentials, and then wrote a concise narrative (PY: 4). His work is important and interesting not as a convenient substitute for northern chronicles, but as a case of synthetic enterprise in the fledging “modern” Siamese historiography. What is required is an elucidation of the true characteristic of Chaem’s project by sourcing and specifying particular chronicles for examination one by one. Unfortunately, as the whereabouts of the exact materials he actually used are not known, we cannot but leave such requirements for future study. However, I continue to believe that it is important to trace the starting point or the formative stage of “modern” Siamese historiography, which has often been collectively known as Damrong Rachanuphap’s school, considering the historical contexts in order to discuss its merits as well as limitations. In this article, by following up a lead on a particularly relevant document in the possession of the National Library of Thailand, I attempt to approach one of the historical sites where one phase of the abovementioned formation took place.

Source materials “Phongsawadan Mueang Ubon Ratchathani” (PMU) in the National Library of Thailand The document, a text of 130 odd pages and the primary source material for the following discussion, constitutes most of a typescript paper manuscript, which is presently kept at the Ancient Manuscript Section located on the fourth floor of the National Library of Thailand. The document has three title pages before the body text begins. First, the details of these three pages need to be checked. The typed title in the center of the front page Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 1. PMU, front page.

Figure 2. PMU, second page.

is Phongsawadan mueang Ubon, to which phak thi 1 (the first part) has been added by hand. The label attached (Figure 1) reads as follows. [NL] 001.3/44 Mu (Group). Phongsawadan Chue (Title). Mueang Ubon Ratchathani phak thi 2 Lek-thi (Number). [blank] The 17 th mat (bundle) The tu (shelf) number 121 Prawat (Provenance). The Library (Ho samut) copied (khat).

On the next page (Figure 2) is the number 001.3/44, which is the same as the label on the front page, the current call number of the manuscript in the National Library, followed by the two words, phak Isan (Northeastern Province).

Figure 3. PMU, third page.

On the third page (Figure 3), there are two labels. The typewritten formats of the two labels and that on the front page are identical except for the missing item akson (script) of the upper label on the third page. The document is manually grouped as phongsawadan on all three labels, and the descriptions of provenance, saying that the library copied, are almost uniform. As for the title, however, there appears to be a different one on the label below the third page, in addition to the shared parts of “(Phongsawadan) mueang Ubon (or Ubon Ratchathani).” The title “Phongsawadan huamueang monthon Isan phak thi 1”

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was added.5 This title (without phak thi 1) is handwritten in a line with larger letters in the middle of the third page, between the two labels, and the subsequent line has the author’s ([phu] taeng) name, Mom Amorawongwichit (Pathom Khanecon). Although these details may seem cumbersome, any information that may help understand the provenance of the document should be carefully considered. Since the descriptive contents of the three labels vary slightly, they were presumably placed on three separate occasions. Nevertheless, the entries of provenance indicate invariably that the library copied it, so it seems certain that all the labels were affixed after the document had come into the custody of the library. Although there remains much room for studying the contexts of the presumed three occasions, the label on the front page is supposed to be the most recently updated one, for this label is currently valid. Accordingly, the document is listed as the “Phongsawadan mueang Ubon Ratchathani” in the catalogue provided in the Ancient Manuscript Section of the National Library of Thailand.

Figure 4. PMU, main body.

However, upon turning to the first page of the main body (Figure 4), one finds the different title of the “Phongsawadan monthon Isan phak thi 1” in typescript, which is crossed out by hand, and on the upper side on the top of the page, another title and the author-compiler’s name have been handwritten as “Phongsawadan huamueang monthon Isan, Mom Amorawongwichit (Mo Wo Pathom Khanecon) edited (riapriang).’ Although this handwritten title and the handwritten title on the third title page are similar, the handwriting differs. It may be plausible that the title on the body page was written later. This assessment is based on the fact that this title is the same as the title of the “Phongsawadan huamueang6 monthon Isan” (abbreviated as PHMI) that was Outside the frame of the label below on the third page, “Number 37 The first bundle,” is also written. 6 The contemporary meaning of the word huamueang is the provinces (outside the capital). The Royal Institute’s dictionary gives an older meaning of “a large domain (mueang) that has small dependent domains” (Photchananukrom chabap ratchabandittayasathan P.S. 2554, 2nd printing, 2013: 1326). Although Keyes maintains in his book focusing on northeastern Thailand that the term huamueang, in which the word hua means head, was applied specifically to small principalities comprising a single important center and subordinate villages or other centers (Keyes 1967: 67), usages apparently vary. For example, when the huamueang Lao Kao was established in 1890, it comprised twenty-three large huamueang and fifty-five dependent huamueang, and all these seventy-eight huamueang were placed under the jurisdiction of the Royal Commissioner (Toem 1999: 321). 5

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included in the fourth volume of the Prachum Phongsawadan (Collected Histories, abbreviated as PP) and publicized. The author immediately recognized the resemblance between the “Phongsawadan mueang Ubon Ratchathani” (to be abbreviated as PMU) in the National Library and the PHMI in the fourth volume of PP, which had already been frequently consulted. Therefore, the author checked further and discovered that 132 pages (from page 1 to page 132)7 out of the 152-page typescript of PMU are unmistakably the draft of the printed publication, PHMI. As already stated, the PMU is fundamentally a typewritten manuscript. However, it is replete with the handwritten marks of various alterations. Evidently, the text was printed and published as part of the fourth volume of PP only after such alterations were implemented. The PHMI in the fourth volume of PP In 1908, the first volume of PP was printed on the occasion of the cremation ceremony of a member of royalty. It comprised six documents that had been selected by the council of the Library for the Capital (ho phrasamut samrap phranakhon),8 the predecessor of today’s National Library of Thailand, from its possessions. Since then, volumes of PP were augmented sequentially until it became firmly established as a huge collection of more than eighty volumes. The fourth volume of PP was originally compiled and printed in 1915, upon the request of a certain high-ranking official of the Finance Ministry, to be distributed at the funeral service of his mother. Prince Damrong wrote a “fairly long” (Damrong 1963 [1915a]) preface to this volume. The preface began with an explanatory account of the PP series, which appears to have not yet been widely known, before introducing the contents of the fourth volume itself. According to Prince Damrong, the PP consisted of various fragmentary historical books, both old and new, that the council (of the Library) had determined to be good books or interesting stories. They were to be edited and printed in order to ensure that rare books would not be scattered and lost, while benefiting history students for their convenience of reading and researching. When a certain number of materials had been gathered, the Library would compile them into a volume and print it, instead of waiting indefinitely for a complete collection (Damrong 1963 [1915a]). Consequently, each volume of PP tended to be a mixture of miscellaneous short and long documents. The fourth volume, for example, in addition to the PHMI, includes “Phraratchaphongsawadan krung kao chabap cunlasakkarat 1136” (Royal Chronicle of Ayutthaya Lesser Era Year 1136 version), “Phongsawadan mueang Lawaek chabap somdet phranarai ramathibodi” (Chronicle of Lawaek (Cambodia) King Eng version) and “Het songkhram rawang farangset.”9 7

A typescript draft of another text covers from mid-page 132 to 152, entitled “Het songkhram rawang farangset” [Fighting Incident with the French]. This text is also included in the fourth volume of PP following the PHMI. 8 As to the formation of the Library of the Capital, see (Jory 2000: 352, 357, 359). As for its principal predecessor, the Wachirayan Library, see (Chirabodee and Luyt: 2014). 9 See footnote 7. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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The PP today is generally regarded as a “printed collection of primary sources and important sources” (Nithi 1996: “Kham chi caeng”) and, to quote Jory (2000: 369), “one of the principal (and authoritative [underlined by the present author]) collections of published source material for the writing of Thai history.” Nithi further writes that it is valuable not only for historical studies but for wide-ranging Thai studies (Thaikhadi-sueksa) (Nithi ibid). Those materials in the PP, once selected and ranked for the pantheon of PP,10 appear to have attained the status of canonical texts. The authoritative springhead of the PP must have derived from the fact that Prince Damrong was the originator of this compiling and printing project (Nithi ibid.). Prince Damrong would always contribute introductory and explanatory remarks to the early volumes of PP, which revealed how he had been largely responsible for the selection of documents. Owing to its authoritative appearance, the PP, through a mixture of miscellaneous documents of often dubious provenance, appears liable to be treated as a primary source and cited without proper textual criticism, while Prince Damrong’s interpretations continue to prevail. Such problems relating to the PP have been recognized to some extent by Thai scholars who have noted the need to fulfill the criteria of academic research, such as comparison with the original text and conflation of several versions of the text (Nithi ibid.). Nevertheless, because of the massiveness of the collection or its authoritative nature, a full-scale endeavor has yet to come, and the historical contexts of PP are far from amply discussed. In any case, such an endeavor should be based on the examination of each available source material. Unfortunately, certain regulations of the National Library of Thailand11 have hampered efforts for further critical investigation. According to the regulations, a requested item should be checked by the library staff beforehand and, when it is proven to have been published in some form, the request should be denied, and one should be provided with only published texts to consult. Under such conditions, access to manuscripts for the PP is closed, and there is no opportunity to check the published texts against the unpublished manuscripts. This article deals with only one document, which appears significant enough to warrant careful attention, because it represents a rare draft manuscript of one of the PP documents hitherto unknown,12 have been barred by the regulations, and will make 10

Wyatt, in referring to the PY’s entry into the PP, writes that it gained admission to the prestigious Prachum Phongsawadan in volume 5, published in 1917, long after its author’s death in 1907 (Wyatt 2002: 83, 85). 11 “Rabiap ho samut haeng chat wa-duai an chai borikan ekasan boran pho, so, 2539” (Regulations concerning the Use of Service for the Ancient Documents B.E. 2539 (1996). 12 Artha has referred to the “Phongsawadan mueang Ubon Ratchathani” with the same call number of 001.3/44 (group: Phongsawadan), which he notes having browsed in the Ancient Manuscript Section of the Wachirayan Library (Ho Wachirayan). Although Artha mentions alterations in the text, his source material was a “manuscript written with black ink,” instead of a typescript, and the corrections in the text were made “in pencil.” In addition to this discrepancy with our typescript, as he lists another “Phongsawadan mueang Ubon Ratchathani (phak thi 1)” with the call number 001.3/43 in his bibliography (Artha 1986: 261), Artha’s document is unidentifiable. There might be another handwritten copy. Artha introduces his document as an example of Bangkok officials’ inappropriate attempts to write local histories. According to him, it is because those officials, sent Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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analytical investigation, which should provide a basis for critical study on the PP texts, possible. In this article, by first drawing a comparison between the PMU and the PHMI of the fourth volume of PP, the author will attempt to discuss problems concerning the PP, and subsequently of modern Siamese historiography that appears to have relied on the PP to no small extent. In the preface to the fourth volume of PP, following the aforementioned account of the PP in general, Prince Damrong provides a commentary for each of four texts (Damrong 1915). As for the PHMI, the first half of Prince Damrong’s commentary is dedicated to the introduction of the author-compiler Mom Amorawongwichit (M.R.W. Pathom Kanechon13) (-1908). According to Prince Damrong, Pathom began his career as a student of the Suan Kulap School, which although originally founded in 1881 for bringing up government officials, particularly among boys of royal descent (Wyatt 1994: 234-236), eventually would become regarded as the precursor of modern school education in Siam. Having graduated from the early Suan Kulap School, Pathom became investitured and was soon transferred to the Ministry of Interior. He then voluntarily took a post to work in Monthon Isan under the Royal High Commissioner (Khaluang yai tang phraong), Prince Sanphasitthiprasong (1857-1922).14 He finally attained the position of Deputy Commissioner there, but died at a young age due to illness contracted while heading to the border on an important mission to negotiate with the French in 1908.15 Prince Damrong, seemingly regretting Pathom’s untimely death in the line of duty, refers at great length to the royal patronage and pension bestowed by two successive Kings upon Pathom’s family, including his father (Mom Chao Mekhin), wife, and son. In the latter part of the preface, Prince Damrong narrates the story behind the PHMI. from the capital Bangkok, could not understand the “local” spirits (khwam pen “thong thin”) of the original regional note takers that “disregards” (laloei) and “distortions” (bit buean) occurred in the works of Bangkok officials. In referring to two lines from his “Phongsawadan mueang Ubon Ratchathani.” where the word Lao was erased by hand, he infers incompatibility with the Bangkok government’s policy that induced such alterations (Artha 1986: 247-248). Artha consistently assumes that the alterations were made by dispatched personnel, and he never discusses the relationship between his document and the PHMI in the PP. He could get access to the material probably because the library staff, as well as Artha himself, did not recognize that it contained a draft of the PP publications. It seems also likely that my own access to the document was approved by error, since the document’s title was different from the one in the PP, causing the library staff to overlook it. In short, the PMU has never been published as a draft of one of the PP documents. 13 Pathom was a grandchild of Phraongchao Khanechon (1815-1878), the twelfth child of King Phranangklao, the third king of the Bangkok dynasty (SWIPI, vol.15: 5166). 14 At the time when Prince Sanphasitthiprasong, another talented half-brother of King Chulalongkorn, arrived in Ubon Ratchathani, the place of his assignment in December 1893, the monthon was called Lao Kao and not monthon Isan. Prince Sanphasitthiprasong was accompanied by fourteen officials he had selected, including Pathom Khanechon, and about two hundred soldiers (Phaithun 1972: 57; Toem 1999: 362-363). He stayed at his post in Ubon Ratchathani for a long period until 1910, when he was summoned back to Bangkok to assume the office of Minister of Palace (Damrong 1923: (16)). For the achievements of Prince Sanphasitthiprasong as the Royal High Commissioner in the northeast, see (Phaithun 1972). 15 For the details of Pathom’s activities in the “Isan” region, see SWIPI, vol.15: 5167-5168. As to the circumstances of Pathom’s demise, see Toem 1999: 372-373. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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First, Prince Damrong emphasizes that nobody ever ordered Pathom to write the PHMI, but that he had engaged himself in writing it while off duty, as he loved knowledge and learning. With the intention of assisting the state government, Pathom had attempted to acquire various data and information on his inspection trips, from the provincial office and sometimes by purchasing history books. Pathom’s case seems analogous to that of Chaem Bunnag, who compiled the PY, in that both Pathom and Chaem were Bangkok government officials who, on being dispatched to remote provinces, took an interest in the local histories of their posts and voluntarily worked on compilations. Pathom, when serving under the Interior Minister Prince Damrong, submitted as much of the draft as he had written for Prince Damrong to check (truat) whenever he had a chance to travel to the capital. Prince Damrong writes that he used to return the draft to Pathom after review. If this was indeed the case, it is of utmost importance in light of textual criticism to know how Prince Damrong handled Pathom’s drafts and to clarify the nature of the conducted verification. Prince Damrong continues that Pathom’s draft, once completed, was sent to Damrong’s office at the Ministry of Interior sometime before his death in 1908, but was later considered lost, for Prince Damrong could not find it on searching for it at the news of Pathom’s demise. It was rediscovered at the Ministry shortly before Damrong’s retirement from the office and transferred to the Library for the Capital, where the draft was located at the time of its publication as part of the fourth volume of PP in 1915. This is Prince Damrong’s account of how the PHMI came into being. At the initial stage of “modern” Siamese historiography, “regional” histories were opened up by Bangkok government officials sent to work in the then remote outer provinces. Historical documents or source materials that they had searched for locally in the field were collected at the capital, Bangkok. More precisely, such materials somehow reached the institutional custody of Prince Damrong’s surveillance. Part of the materials, mostly selected by Damrong, subsequently became published in the serial form of PP. The above account of Prince Damrong appears to precisely indicate the process of molding the standard of Siamese nationals’ historical knowledge in the name of PP or of the canon of “modern” Siamese historiography. However, as will become apparent later, a rather different testimony concerning the formative process of PHMI exists as well.

From the typescript PMU to PHMI in Prachum Phongsawadan Now I conduct comparative investigation into the body texts of our sources. As stated earlier, the PMU is a typescript with handwritten alterations. The relationship between the PMU and the PHMI, as a rule, is such that the handwritten alterations on the pages of PMU are faithfully reproduced in the printed text of PHMI. Let us look at the top of the first body page of PMU, for example (Figure 4). There the text is titled anew by hand as the “Phongsawadan huamueang monthon Isan,” and this new title appears in the printed text of PHMI in the fourth volume of PP (Figure 5). Thus, the printed text gives no hint of the title “Phongsawadan mueang Ubon (Ratchathani).” Since there are many handwritten alterations, including minute corrections of Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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spelling, on every page of PMU, it is impossible to deal with all of them in a limited space. In what follows, only the alterations that appear to be specifically interesting in light of historiographical construction will be indicated and discussed. In the following, “A” stands for the typescript text of PMU, “B” stands for the modified text of PHMI, and “C” is the common part of both texts. Explanatory remarks by the author are provided in brackets.

Figure 5. PHMI, title page.

Population composition A: [PMU: 1] The indigenous people of the region (khon phuen mueang) are Lao, Khmer (Khamen), and Suai, race (chat), and [in addition] there are people of other countries (prathet uen), such as Thai, Farang [Westerners], Vietnamese, Burmese, Tongsu, and Chinese, who have settled to engage with trade in large numbers. คนพืน ้ เมืองเปนชาติ, ลาว, เขมร, ส่วย, แลมีชนชาวประเทศอืน ่ คือไทย, ฝรัง่ , ญวน, พม่า, ตองซู, จีน, เข้าไปตัง้ ประกอบการค้าขายเปนอันมาก B: [PHMI: 185] The indigenous people are basically Thai. In addition to the Thai, there are Khmer, Suai, and Lawa,16 and people of other countries such as Farang, Vietnamese, Burmese, Tongsu, and Chinese have settled, but they are not many. คนพืน ้ เมืองเป็นไทยเป็นพืน ้ นอกจากไทยมีเขมรส่วย และลว้า และมีชนชาวประเทศอืน ่ คือ ฝรัง่ , ญวน, พม่า, ตองซู, จีน, เข้าไปอยูบ ่ า้ ง แต่ไม่มากนัก C: [PMU: 1] [PHMI: 185] The whole population in this year of 122 [Ratanakosin Era, which corresponds to April 1903~March 1904] was approximately 924,000 odd people.

The word Lao in A is crossed out and, accordingly, there is no Lao in B. Thai, one of the foreign peoples in A, are stated to be the native, major population in B. In A, many “people of the other countries” are said to reside, but in B, they are said to be few. With these alterations, the demographic composition in B has changed considerably from A. Nevertheless, the total population of 924,00017 remains unchanged. 16

See footnote 33. The ground for this approximate figure is unknown. In the year 123 of Ratanaosin Era (April 1904~March 1905), the first partial census (kan samruat sammanokhrua) was conducted in twelve inner monthon (circles), but not in Monthon Isan. However, in the Census Report (Kham athibai 17

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Race in A is not crossed out, but is omitted in B. Thai race (chon chat thai)18 C: [PMU: 1] [PHMI: 185] Formerly, before the year 1000 of the Lesser Era (cunlasakkarat), the land of this Monthon Lao Kao19 used be a heavily forested area, where the jungle people descended from Khom20 and later called Kha, Suai, and Kuai lived. Those people are still living on the eastern bank of the Mekong River today. เดิมพืน ้ ในมณฑลลาวกาวนี้ เมือ ่ ก่อนจุลศักราชได้ ๑๐๐๐ ปี ก็เปนทำ�เน[sic]ป่าดง ซึง่ เปนที่ อาไศรย์ของพวกคนป่าอันสืบเชือ ้ สายมาแต่ขอม ต่อมาเรียกกันว่าพวกข่า, ส่วย, กวย, ซึง่ ยังมีอยู่ ในฝัง่ โขงตวันออกณบัดนีน ้ น ้ั A: [PMU: 1-2] When the people of the Lao race (chon chat lao) who had been in the country (prathet) to the north, which had Mueang Sisattanakhanahut (Wiangchan) for example, dispersed and came down to get settled independently…. ครัน ้ เมือ ่ ชนชาติลาวฃึง่ อยูป ่ ระเทศข้างเหนือ มีเมืองศรีสต ั นาคนหุต (เวียงจันทน์) เปนต้น ได้แตก สานส้านเฃนลงมาตัง้ เคหสฐานโดยความอิศรภาพแห่งตน B: [PHMI: 185] When the people of the Thai race (chon chat thai) who had been in the country to the north, which had Mueang Sisattanakhanahut (Wiangchan), for example, dispersed and came down to get settled independently…… ครัน ้ เมือ ่ ชนชาติไทยฃึง่ อยูป ่ ระเทศข้างเหนือ มีเมืองศรีสต ั นาคนหุต (เวียงจันทน์) เป็นต้น ได้แตก ฉานฃ่านเฃ็นลงมาตัง้ เคหสถาน โดยความอิสรภาพแห่งตน

The word Lao in A is crossed out. In B, the word Thai is used instead of Lao, and the Thai race emerged as the outcome.

banchi sammanokhrua) (Grabowsky 1993: 75-84), the approximate population figures of eight monthon exempted from “the detailed census” (i.e. the census of R.E.123), including Monthon Isan, are provided. The report says the figures are calculated on the assumption that based on comparison with other survey figures the population increased by 25% since the old surveys. The estimated figure for the Monthon Isan population is 915,750 (Grabowsky 1993: 84), which is fairly close to the approximate figure for the year 122 in both our sources. 18 Chon chat thai is the title given to the Thai language translation in 1939 of The Tai Race by Dodd (1923). Cf. Streckfuss 1993: 147, n.4. 19 The “Lao Kao” is one of few idioms with the word Lao that has been exceptionally exempt from erasure in the PHMI (There are a few more instances where the word Lao appears independently). It may be that because the name of Monthon Lao Kao had been adopted by the Bangkok government as an official appellation along with other Lao monthon (Mongthon lao chiang for the present day northern Thailand, etc.), though temporarily, they could not help but retain the name for the relevant period (PMU: 117-118). However, such speculation might be denied by the case where monthon Lao Kao was changed to monthon Isan without hesitation in the entry for the year 1221 of the Lesser Era (1859 A.D.) (PMU: 50) 20 This underlined part of “from Khom” is inserted by hand in A. Although there is more than one view about the word khom, it seems interchangeable with khamen in this text. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Erasure of Lao A: [PMU: 4] In 1075 of the Lesser Era [1713 A.D.], year of the snake, Phra Khru Phonsamet, along with the Lao aristocrats and officials (saen thao phraya lao), performed a coronation ceremony to enthrone Chao No Kasat as king, dedicated the royal name of Chao Soi Sisamut Phutthangkun and made him the sovereign ruler by following the kingly customs of the Lao country (lao prathet). ครัน ้ จุลศักราช ๑๐๗๕ ปีมเสงเบญจศก พระครูโพนเสม็ดพร้อมด้วยแสนท้าวพระยาลาว จึงได้ ตัง้ พิธย ี กเจ้าหน่อกระษัตริยข์ น ้ึ เปนกระษัตริยถ ์ วายพระนามว่า เจ้าสร้อยศรีสมุทพุทธางกูล ครอง สมบัตเิ ปนเอกราชตามประเพณีกระษัตริยม ์ ลาว์[sic]ประเทศ B: [PHMI: 190] In 1075 of the Lesser Era, year of the snake, Phra Khru Phonsamet, along with the aristocrats and officials performed a coronation ceremony to enthrone Chao No Kasat as king, dedicated the royal name of Chao Soi Sisamut Phutthangkun and made him the sovereign ruler by following kingly customs. ครัน ้ จุลศักราช ๑๐๗๕ ปีมเส็งเบญจศก พระครูโพนเสม็ดพร้อมด้วยแสนท้าวพระยา จึงได้ตง้ั พิธี ยกเจ้าหน่อกระษัตริยข์ น ้ึ เป็นกระษัตริย์ ถวายพระนามว่าเจ้าสร้อยศรีสมุทพุทธางกูร ครองสมบัติ เป็นเอกราชตามประเพณีกระษัตริย์

This is the passage describing the beginning of Lao rule of Champasak in today’s southern Laos. In the wake of upheavals in Wiangchan (Vientiane), a charismatic monk named Phra Khru Phonsamet led thousands of his faction’s followers across the Mekong and southward until they reached the place that later became known as Champasak. There, Phra Khru Phonsamet crowned Chao No Kasat, who was of royal descent through the second son of King Surinyawongsa’s21daughter, as King Soi Sisamut Phutthangkun (Archaimbault 1961: 534-539; Stuart-Fox 1998: 102). All instances of the word Lao in A are indicated, and the text in B does not contain the word Lao at all. The erasure marks of Lao as seen here (Figure 6) are only minor examples of many such changes. Wherever the word Lao comes up in the typescript text, every instance is carefully crossed out. Sometimes, when they (I am not for the moment raising the question of who “they” are) appear to have thought the outcome after deletion to be awkward, they paraphrase. For example, the word Lao on the first line of the plate below (Figure 7), which appears to have been combined with the word chronicle (tamnan) as Lao chronicle (tamnan lao), is simply crossed out. However, on the fifth line where a composite term Lao language (phasa lao) appears, they have used the paraphrased expression language over there (phasa thang nan) in order to make the sentence explain local etymology meaningfully. In other cases where Lao language (kham lao) appears, the expression local language (kham phuen mueang) is applied to avoid the word Lao. In short, it can be safely concluded that they or the “revisionist(s),” do not appear to have liked the word Lao and seem to have attempted to eliminate all instances of Lao from the document. 21

Surinyawongsa was the most powerful Lao king of Lan Sang, who ruled in the 17th century from his capital at Wiangchan. After his death in 1695, a succession struggle ensued, and Lan Sang dissolved into three or four separate small kingdoms. The newly established Champasak was one of them. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure

Figures 6, 7. Erasure of Lao in PMU.

Bangkok-centric viewpoint A: [PMU: 55] …ask the petty official of Mueang Ubon who had gone down to [stay in] Bangkok… ... แลให้ถามกรมการเมืองอุบลซึง่ ลงไปอยูท ่ ก ่ี รุงเทพฯ B: [PHMI: 274] …ask the petty official of Mueang Ubon who had come down to [stay in] Bangkok… ... และให้ถามกรมการเมืองอุบล ซึง่ ลงมาอยูท ่ ก ่ี รุงเทพฯ A: [PMU: 84] In the year of the goat, 1244 of the Lesser Era, the king mercifully had Phraya Sisinghathep (Run) along with many officials as the Royal Commissioner come up to maintain the royal order of the eastern Lao-Khmer provinces, which were set up at Nakhon Champasak. (ลุจล ุ ศักราช ๑๒๔๔ ปีมะแมจัตวาศก ทรงพระกรุณาโปรดเกล้าฯ ให้พระยาศรีสงิ หเทพ (หรุน ่ ) พร้อมด้วยข้าราชการหลายนายเปนข้าหลวงขึน ้ มารักษาราชการหัวเมืองลาวเขมรตวันออก ตัง้ อยู่ ณนครจำ�ปาศักดิ์ B: [PHMI: 319-320] In the year of goat, 1244 of the Lesser Era, the king mercifully had Phraya Maha Ammat (Run), who was Phraya Sisinghathep at that time, along with many officials as the Royal Commissioner, go up to maintain the royal order of the eastern provinces, which were set up at Nakhon Champasak. ลุจล ุ ศักราช ๑๒๔๔ ปีมะแมจัตวาศก ทรงพระกรุณาโปรดเกล้าฯ ให้พระยามหาอำ�มาตย์ (หรุน ่ ) แต่ยงั เป็นพระยา ศรีสงิ หเทพ พร้อมด้วยข้าราชการหลายนายเป็นข้าหลวงขึน ้ ไปรักษาราชการหัว เมืองตะวันออก ตัง้ อยู่ ณ นครจำ�ปาศักดิ์

In A, to describe the activities involving going to Bangkok, such as a provincial governor’s courtesy visits or a delivery of suai duties, the word pai (to go) is used to indicate orientation. Such uses of pai are all replaced by ma (to come) in B. On Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 8. PMU, p. 84.

the contrary, for all movements heading towards the countryside, such as the Royal Commissioner’s arrival, the word ma is used in A. Almost all such uses of ma in A are crossed out and changed to pai (Figure 8). It is supposed that the text was originally written somewhere outside Bangkok, presumably around the Ubon Ratchathani area, and that when it was transformed into the PHMI in Bangkok, it was modified to accommodate readers in the capital. Therefore, Prince Damrong’s explanation in the preface as to the formation of the texts may be evinced in a way. By way of alterations befallen in Bangkok, B changed into a text to be read smoothly in Bangkok.

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Kings of Siam In the text of PMU, kings of Siam make an appearance several times, some of which are altered in the PHMI. King Taksin of the Thonburi Dynasty A: [PMU: 13] In the year of the dragon, 1138 of the Lesser Era, the king of fourth Somdet Phraborommaracha (Chao Taksin) ascended to the throne at Thonburi. ลุจล ุ ศักราช ๑๑๓๘ ปีมะโรงจัตวาศก แผ่นดินสมเด็จพระบรมราชาที่ ๔ (เจ้าตากสิน) ขึน ้ ครองราช สมบัตณ ์ิ กรุงธนบุร.ี .. B: [PHMI: 204] In the year of the dragon, 1138 of the Lesser Era, Chao Taksin ascended to the throne at Thonburi. ลุจล ุ ศักราช ๑๑๓๘ ปีมะโรงจัตวาศก เมือ ่ เจ้าตากสินเสวยราช์อยู่ ณ กรุงธนบุร.ี ..

The First King of the Bangkok Dynasty C: [PMU: 17; PHMI: 210] [Somdet Chaophraya Kasatsuek] … hurriedly came back to the capital, suppressed corrupt people and quelled the riot completely. Then [he] ascended to the throne and was crowned at the capital city of angels … in the year of the tiger, 1144 of the Lesser Era. A: [PMU: 17] The royal signature at that time was presented as Somdet Phraramathibodi thi 4, i.e. the first king of the Chakri dynasty, that very Phrabat Somdet Phraphuttha Yotfa Chulalok. When [the king] knew…. [This sentence without an explicit subject begins with a word indicating royal activities.] ปรากฎพระบรมนามาพิธย ั ในสมัยนัน ้ ว่า สมเด็จพระรามาธิบดีท่ี ๔ คือสมเด็จพระปฐมบรมจักร์กรี วงษ์ พระบาท สมเด็จพระพุทธยอดฟ้าจุฬาโลกย์นน ้ั ครัน ้ ทรงทราบว่า ... B: [PHMI: 210] [The wordy explanation of the king’s signature is cut out.] When [the king] knew…. ครัน ้ ทรงทราบว่า ...

The Third King of the Bangkok Dynasty A: [PMU: 46] ….Phrabat Somdet Phranangklao Chao Yu Hua, who had been the Siamese king in the third period of the dynasty, gracefully went to his rest in heaven. ... พระบาทสมเด็จพระนัง่ เกล้าเจ้าอยูห ่ วั ซึง่ เปนพระเจ้าแผ่นดินสยามในลำ�ดับรัชกาลที่ ๓ เสด็จสู่ สวรรคค[sic]ต B: [PHMI: 258]… Phrabat Somdet Phranangklao Chao Yu Hua gracefully went to his rest in heaven. The third period of the dynasty ended. ... พระบาทสมเด็จพระนัง่ เกล้าเจ้าอยูห ่ วั เสด็จสวรรคต สิน ้ รัชกาลที่ ๓ Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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The Fourth and Fifth Kings of the Bangkok Dynasty C: …in the year of the dragon, 1230 of the Lesser Era [1868 A.D.], Phrabat Somdet Phrachomklao Chao Yu Hua gracefully went to his rest in heaven. A: [PMU: 60] [The king] lived for sixty-five years in total. He reigned for seventeen years and six months. The regent along with the members of the royal family and higher officials invited Somdet Chaofa Chulalongkorn Krommakhun Phinitprachanat Phraboromratchaorot (Crown Prince Chulalongkorn) to ascend the throne of the kingdom of Siam … with the royal name of Phrabat Somdet Phraparamin Maha Chulalongkkorn in the present reign. รวมพระชนม์ได้ ๖๕ พรรษา อยูใ่ นราชสมบัตไ์ิ ด้ ๑๗ ปีกบ ั ๖ เดือน ผูส ้ �ำ เร็จราชการแผ่นดินจึง่ พร้อมด้วยพระบรมวงษานุวงษ์ ข้าราชการผูใ่ หญ่นอ ้ ย อันเชิญเสด็จสมเด็จเจ้าฟ้าจุฬาลงกรณ์ กรมขุนพินต ิ ประชานารถพระบรมราชโอรสขึน ้ เสวยราชสมบัตบ ์ิ รมราชาภิเศก เปนพระเจ้าแผ่น ดินสยาม... โดยปรากฎพระบรมนามาภิธย ั ว่า พระบาทสมเด็จพระปรมินทรมหาจุฬาลงกรณ์ พระ จุลจอมเกล้าเจ้าอยูห ่ วั ณรัชกาลปัตยุบน ั นี้ B: [PHMI: 280] [The wordy name of the Crown Prince and the process of his accession to the throne are removed.] Phrabat Somdet Phraparamin Maha Chulalongkorn was enthroned in the present reign. พระบาทสมเด็จพระปรมินทรมหาจุฬาลงกรณ์ พระจุลจอมเกล้าเจ้าอยูห ่ วั ได้เสวยราชสมบัตใ์ิ น รัชกาลปัจจุบน ั นี้

All the lengthy explanatory remarks and detailed accounts associated with the Siamese kings in A are omitted in B. It is probably because there was no need for explanations about the Siamese kings for the intended readers in Bangkok. Additionally, probably because Siam was an all-encompassing “world” in itself for the Bangkok readers, there is no mention of Siam at all in B. The kings of Siam in B were required therefore to be the only kings and could not be relativized against other petty rulers, such as Lao chiefs. Anu War A conspicuous reworking in the story of the Siamese–Lao war, which was triggered by the “rebellious” Lao king of Wiangchan, Chao Anu, is as follows. A: [PMU: 31] At that time, on the part of those Lao and Khmer families, who, by order of Chao Pasak (Yo), had been rounded up and remained in the city of Champasak, on getting the news that the Bangkok army went on an offensive … in the year of the pig, 1189 of the Lesser Era [1827 A.D.], those Lao and Khmer families all joined in setting fire to torch the city of Champasak. ขณะนัน ้ ฝ่ายพวกครัวลาวเขมรทีเ่ จ้าปาศักดิ์ (โย่) ให้กวาดส่งไปไว้ยงั เมืองจำ�ปาศักดิน ์ น ้ั ครัน ้ รูข้ า่ ว ว่ากองทัพกรุงยกขึน ้ ไป ครัน ้ ... ปีกน ุ นพศก จุลศักราช ๑๑๘๙ พวกครัวลาวเขมรนัน ้ ก็พากันเอาไฟ เผาเมืองจำ�ปาศักดิล ์ ก ุ ลามขึน ้ ...

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B: [PHMI: 234] At that time, on the part of those Thai and Khmer families, who, by order of Chao Champasak (Yo), had been rounded up and remained in the city of Champasak, on getting the news that the Bangkok army went on an offensive … in the year of the pig, 1189 of the Lesser Era [1827 A.D.], those families all joined in setting fire to torch the city of Champasak. ขณะนัน ้ ฝ่ายพวกครัวไทยเขมรทีเ่ จ้าจำ�ปาศักดิ์ (โย่) ให้กวาดส่งไปไว้ยงั เมืองจำ�ปาศักดิน ์ น ้ั ครัน ้ รู้ ข่าวว่ากองทัพกรุงยกขึน ้ ไป ครัน ้ ... ปีกน ุ นพศก จุลศักราช ๑๑๘๙ พวกครัวก็พากันเอาไฟเผาเมือง จำ�ปาศักดิล ์ ก ุ ลามขึน ้ ...

The word Lao in A is crossed out, and Thai has been inserted instead in B. As a result, the story in B is confusing. In order to avoid a contradictory implication that the Thai families fought against the Bangkok army, the repletion of the names of the families who fought is avoided in B. Territorialization Referring to the tumultuous situation in Vietnam following the Hue Treaty of 1883, through which the French protectorate was recognized and France was granted the privilege of stationing a resident-general at Hue, the following passage recounts the measures taken by King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) of Siam in 1885 in order to avoid involvement with the French-Vietnamese conflict. C: [PMU: 95] [PHMI: 337] When the King became aware of the above situation [in Vietnam], he solemnly thought that the Vietnamese might be shattered to flee from the French and come into the King’s realm. ครัน ้ ความทัง้ นีไ้ ด้ทรงทราบฝ่าลอองธุลพ ี ระบาทแล้ว ทรงพระราชดำ�ริหว์ า่ ลางทีพวกญวนจะแตก หนีฝรัง่ เศสเข้ามาในพระราชอาณาเขตร A: [PMU: 95] Then it might develop a rift in the amicable relationship between the Kingdom and France. The King therefore graciously made Phraya Maha Ammat, who was a royal commissioner at Nakhon Champasak, levy provincial conscripts and send troops up to station at Khemarat, where he was ordered to investigate the Vietnamese people who had come to stay for a while at the border town of Ding about whether they should be located inside or outside the King’s realm. If they are located inside, have them lay aside their weapons. Don’t let them go back to cause trouble to harm France. จะทำ�ให้เปนบาดหมางต่อพระราชไมตรีกบ ั ฝรัง่ เศส จึง่ ได้ทรงพระกรุณาโปรดเกล้าฯ ให้พระยา มหาอำ�มาตย์ขา้ หลวงนครจำ�ปาศักดิเ์ กณฑ์ก�ำ ลังหัวเมืองขึน ้ ไปตัง้ ขัดตาทัพอยูณ ่ เมืองเขมราฐ แล้ว ให้สบ ื สวนดูพวกญวนทีม ่ าตัง้ อยูณ ่ ด่านดิงเหลาแต่กอ ่ นนัน ้ จะตัง้ อยูใ่ นฤานอกพระราชอาณาเขตร ถ้าตัง้ อยูใ่ นก็ให้ละวางอาวุธ อย่าให้คด ิ กลับไปก่อเหตุท�ำ ร้ายแก่ฝรัง่ เศส ... B: [PHMI: 337] Then the incident developed between Vietnam and France that might be brought to involve Thai [Siam]. The King therefore graciously made Phraya Maha Ammat who was a royal commissioner at Mueang Nakhon Champasak levy provincial conscripts and send troops up to station at Khemarat, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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where he was ordered to investigate the Vietnamese people who had come to stay at the border town of Ding about whether they should be outside the King’s realm [or] trespass by coming in. If they should trespass by coming in, have them to lay aside their weapons and don’t let them come to reside in the land of Siam and cause trouble to harm France. จะเหตุการณ์ทเ่ี กิดในระหว่างญวนกับฝรัง่ เศสเข้ามาเกีย ่ วข้องถึงไทย จึง่ ได้ทรงพระกรุณาโปรด เกล้าฯ ให้พระยามหาอำ�มาตย์ขา้ หลวงนครจำ�ปาศักดิเ์ กณฑ์ก�ำ ลังหัวเมืองขึน ้ ไปตัง้ ขัดตาทัพอยู่ ณ เมืองเขมราษฎร์ แล้วให้สบ ื สวนดูพวกญวนทีม ่ าตัง้ อยู่ ณ ด่านดิงเหลาแต่กอ ่ นนัน ้ จะตัง้ อยูน ่ อก พระราชอาณาเขตล่วงล้�ำ เข้ามา ถ้าล่วงเข้ามาก็ให้บงั คับให้ละวางอาวุธเสีย อย่ามาอาศัยแผ่นดิน สยามก่อเหตุท�ำ ร้ายแก่ฝรัง่ เศส ...

Considerable discrepancies are found between the two. In B, the boundary of the King’s realm is dealt with more consciously than in A. In A, the Vietnamese residing within the King’s realm are accepted as an accomplished fact. The “fact” is however denied in B and understood as a renewed encroachment.

Formation of Isan The word Isan, a derivative from Pali meaning the northeast, first came into existence as a name for a monthon in 1900. The administrative area established in 1894 by the name of Monthon Lao Kao22 was renamed Monthon Tawan-ok Chiang Nuea (Northeast Circle) in 1899, and once again was renamed Monthon Isan in January 1900. The royal reflection on the second renaming was proclaimed in the form of a simple “Regulation,”23 with the signature of the Interior Minister Prince Damrong. The names of the four monthon were changed at the same time. The regulation provided the following reason for the renaming: The King thought that some of the existing names of monthon, such as Monthon Tawan-ok Chiang Nuea, Monthon Tawan-tok Chiang Nuea (Northwest Circle), and two others were “long words [which are] difficult to address,” and that they were all words that showed bearings of each monthon’s location. The King, then, thinking of ancient words (khong boran)24 for directions that were shorter and easier to address, graciously decreed name changes for the four monthon. 22

The area roughly corresponded to the southeastern quarter of today’s northeastern Thailand. The seven major mueangs in the area were Ubon Ratchathani, Nakhon Champasak, Sisaket, Surin, Roiet, Mahasarakha, and Kalasin (Toem 1999: 344). As for the appellation Lao Kao, it is explained by Tueanchai that the Lao Kao referred to the Lao who lived close to Vietnam, since the Siamese called Vietnam Kao or Kaeo (Tueanchai 1993: 38). Toem offers a different etymological theory in conjunction with the Chinese (Toem 1999: 321). 23 “Kot kho bangkhap rueang plian chue monthon 4 monthon” (PKPS. Vol. 17: 537-8). 24 Dararat regards the word Isan or Iisan as a “new word created by the royal court at Bangkok” (Dararat 2003: 77). However, the word Isan meaning northeast is already listed in Pallegoix’s dictionary in 1854 (Pallegoix 1854: 175). There is one example of the word Isan indicating direction (thit) in the Kotmai Tra Sam Duang (Law of Three Seals) (KTSD vol.1: 242). Incidentally, the first syllables of the word Isan were originally short vowels, although it is written with a long vowel today, as authorized by the Royal Institute. The consonant letters for the sounds [s] and [n] have also undergone changes. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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It was certainly the first renaming from Monthon Lao Kao to Monthon Tawan-ok Chiang Neua, preceding the introduction of the name Isan, that was a radically drastic change. The royal “Ordinance” concerning the name changes for the monthon, declared on 5 June 1899, outlined the reason for the change as follows:25 As for the inner provinces (huamueang chan nai), which were integrated into monthon under the Thesaphiban administrative system, have already been given names based on locality (tam phuen thi) adequately. However, the outer (chan nok) monthon, such as Lao Chiang, Lao Phuan, Lao Kao and Khamen, have not been given names based on location following the same rules. The King therefore graciously declared to let everyone know that from now on Monthon Lao Chiang should be called Monthon Tawan-tok Chiang Nuea, Monthon Lao Phuan as Monthon Fai Nuea (North), Monthon Lao Kao as Monthon Tawan-ok Chiang Nuea (Northeast), and Monthon Khamen as Monthon Tawan-ok (East)

The “Ordinance” stated that the new principle of appellation was “to be based on locality.” Compared with the old principle that appears to have been based on the attributes of the majority of inhabitants, “To be based on locality” was an expression of space consciousness based on a principle of territoriality instead of personal jurisdiction. Nevertheless, in contrast to the inner monthon, where a particular toponym such as Phitsanulok or Ayutthaya was adopted, the outer monthon were to be called by names indicating their compass direction from Bangkok. This method of naming firmly based on the centrality of Bangkok was the manifestation of the central government’s determination to intensify control over the hitherto peripheral outer regions. At the same time, by eliminating the words Lao and Khamen, the traditional conception of racial differences was suppressed. As I will discuss shortly, this was not only to conceptually negate the existence of “other races” within the territorial boundary of Siam, but to subsume the others and incorporate them into the new mold of “Thai.” In 1912, the Monthon Isan was divided into Monthon Ubon Ratchathani and Monthon Roiet,26 causing the monthon name of Isan to disappear. It may be safely presumed that the draft titled “Phongsawadan monthon Isan” was prepared after 1900, the year of the birth of Monthon Isan. If the draft was completed before Pathom Khanechon’s death and the typescript had also been made by Pathom himself (or people around him), the time of completion should be before 1908. We can at least be highly certain that it was completed before 1912. The intention of adopting huamueang Monthon Isan in the title for the fourth volume of PP cannot be clearly explained. What is clear is that there was no Monthon Isan at the time of its publication in 1915. This could be part of the reason for the word huamueang,27 in that its content was not limited to the territorial boundary of the former Monthon Isan. 25

“Prakat plian nam monthon” (PKPS. Vol. 17: 47-48). PKPS, Vol.25: 5-6. The stated reason for division was that the existing Monthon Isan had been too large and heavily populated with as many as 1.5 million people. This made it difficult to administer effectively its every corner. 27 See footnote 6. 26

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Isan, as the name of an administrative unit that had once disappeared, experienced a resurgence during the Sixth Reign. This time, Isan became the name of a region (phak), Phak Isan, which was established in August 1922. King Wachiraut’s “Ordinance” stated: Now that communication has developed, the appropriate time has come to support and improve the monthon on the northeastern side, namely Monthon Udon, Monthon Roiet, and Monthon Ubon, more than before. Therefore, the King graciously promotes the status of the three monthon to a region (phak), with Uparat as the administrative superintendent … The king bestows its name as Phak Isan.28

Later, the use of the name Phak Isan (Isan Region), being a more geographical name roughly corresponding to the whole Khorat Plateau rather in the limited sense of a certain administrative unit, appears to have become widespread (Grabowsky 1995: 107). In 1929, two separate books, in the form of cremation volumes, appeared coincidently under the identical titles of Phongsawadan Phak Isan. If the content of these books is taken into account, one might be duly entitled a “Yasothon Chronicle” (PPI.A) and the other a “Roiet Chronicle” (PPI.B), respectively. The fact that both used this title well attests how the name of Phak Isan had become prevalent in the late 1920s, even though the indicated area of Isan was rather ambiguous.

Theory and practice of expulsion of Lao While the word Isan became popular, Lao fell off the map. The “Ordinance” of 1899 that claimed the spatial territoriality principle as its basis did not identify what was negated by the territoriality principle. As noted above, it might be called, at the moment, “racial otherness.” Until the mid-1890s, when monthon with names comprising the word Lao were established, the central Thai or Siamese usage of nominal designation for a certain people of outer regions had been consistently Lao, which was not only used for the inhabitants of present-day northeastern Thailand but also for their northern counterparts.29 A Siamese dictionary published in 1873 in Bangkok defines Lao as the “name of people of a certain language (phasa), living in the northern region, where there is Chiang Mai and

28

“Prakat tang uparat lae samuha thesaphiban” (PKPS. Vol. 35: 70-71). The division of phak was a novel idea implemented by King Wachiraut soon after Prince Damrong’s resignation from the Ministry of Interior in 1915 (Tej 1977: 246-247). For details of the introduction of the phak system, see (Chakrit 2002: 500-504). 29 According to Tueanchai in a detailed study on the usage of the word Lao, it has been demonstrated that examples of Lao usage trace back to the Sukhothai inscriptions, and the word was widely used as meaning either groups of people, of places, or for cultures (Tueanchai 1993: 31-44). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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the rest” and gave particulars of the Lao phung dam (black bellied Lao),30 Lao phuan,31 and Lao Wiangchan (Bradley 1873: 658). The Siamese King of the mid-19th century differentiated the Lao from the Thai and perceived the Lao as “another race,” similar to Khmer, Mon, Burmese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Malays, or Indians (khaek). In letters from the King addressed to foreign sovereigns, Lao Chiang and Lao Kao, both of which would be adopted as names of monthon in the 1890s, were regarded as dependencies (mueang khuen) located outside the king’s realm, along with Cambodia (Kamphucha) and Malay (Malayu) states. The King stated with clarity that the people there differed from the Siamese in terms of language and culture (Iijima 2008: 35-37; Streckfuss 2012: 420). Such perceptions of “racial otherness,” which had been maintained throughout the 19th century, came under scrutiny at the time of the first census partially conducted in 1904, when the question of race (chat) was raised. In that census, besides Thai, fourteen choices, i.e. thirteen races such as Malay, Chinese, and Khmer, were provided. Although the “Explanations”32 attached to the census results indicate enormous difficulty in identifying races because the inhabitants were “of mingled lineage and racially mixed,” some practical criteria were used to differentiate the Chinese, Khmer, and Mon from the Thai, such as dress and native language. At the same time, the reason why the Lao and Thai could not be distinguished and why the Lao should be subsumed by the Thai was delivered in a careful manner. According to reasoning, notwithstanding most people’s apprehension, the distinction between the Lao and Thai was groundless. The Lao and Thai languages are the same, with differences only in intonations (samniang) and certain vocabulary. It could then have been said, “If the people who pronounce differently from the Bangkok people (chao bangkok) should be the Lao, then the people of Nakhon Sithammarat (chao nakhon) should not be Thai either.” Then, it was stated conclusively, “following the truth ascertained by all the learned men,” the people called Lao at that time are in fact “not Lao, they are Thai (pen thai mi chai lao)” (Grabowsky 1993: 76-77; Streckfuss 2012: 422).33 The above statement indicates that in those days the Lao had been generally recognized as the “other race.” Nevertheless, there was an obvious intention to deny such a general recognition by asserting that it was false and should be included in the Thai rubric. This intention logically overlaps with the act of erasing the word Lao and sometimes rewriting it as Thai, as in the case of “Phongsawadan huamueang monthon Isan.” 30

“A Lao group who make their bellies black with tattoo. Those look as if they wear black pants” (Bradley 1873: 658). This comment refers mostly to today’s northern Thai people, who used to have a custom among male members of tattooing themselves black from belly to calf. The Siamese people saw them based on their appearance as “black bellied” (Tueanchai 1993: 34-36). 31 The Lao Phuan originated in the Lao polity that had developed in the Xiang Khwang area in present-day Laos. A special study of the Phuan is Snit and Breazeale (1988). 32 “Kham athibai banchi sammanokhrua” (Grabowsky 1993: 75-84) 33 After this conclusion, another theory that the aboriginal people called Lawa living in northern Siam are true Lao was added. This section of explanation is closed with the statement that since those aboriginal minorities were scattered all over the Kingdom and could not be distinguished from the Thai, they have been all registered as Thai (Grabowsky 1993: 76-77). As to the recurrent Lawa connected theory, see (Evans 1999: 2). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Prince Damrong demonstrated the logic of sweeping away “racial otherness” by restating Lao as Thai in the well-publicized work Nithan borannakhadi (Historical Anecdotes), which was penned in his later life. The following key quote has been cited frequently.34 King Chulalongkorn graciously changed the governmental system of the kingdom since 1892 with the following royal discretion: the existing governmental system has tended to be like an “Empire,” within which states of different races and different languages were dependent. Therefore, three peripheral monthon in the king’s realm were regarded as mueang lao [Lao domain] and the people there, who are in fact Thai, were called Lao. However, such a system of government has become obsolete, and would harm the country (ban mueang) if it were maintained. The King thus initiated the reform of the system and changed it to that of a unified Thai “Kingdom” (prathet thai), abolished the tradition whereby the tributary states (mueang prathetsarat) had presented the king with the token of gold and silver trees, changed the names … [of three Lao monthon], and abolished the nomenclature of Lao for the Thai people of those three monthon. Since then, they have been together called northern Thai. (Damrong 1974 [1944]: 305)

In the same Nithan borannakhadi, Prince Damrong, by reflecting on the inspection trip to the northeastern provinces from December 1906 for fifty-six days, dedicated two chapters to his recollections of the trip. There, Prince Damrong summed up his findings about a variety of people he had encountered on the trip: …as for various groups of people who are inhabitants of Monthon Udon and Monthon Isan, the Thai are more numerous than all the other groups. The Kha and the Khmer count next. When we have become aware this way, the questions arise: where the Lao are, and why have we called the Monthon Phayap and Monthon Udon and Monthon Isan mueang lao (Lao domain) ever since olden days. (Damrong 1974 [1944]: 347)35

Corresponding to this later recollection, the following account is retained in Prince Damrong’s journal during the trip: 34

Both Phaithun (1974: 111-112) and Dararat (2003: 76-77) cite the same part, where the English words Empire and Kingdom are employed in such a way as if it were King Chulalongkorn’s own wording of the day, which is doubtful. Tej (1977: 146) omits the Empire passage in his citation. Chatchai’s citation (Chatchai 1991: 296) is more abridged. Incidentally, it is interesting to note an almost full-length citation of this part of Prince Damrong’s writing in the work of a northern Thai folklorist, Sanguan, in the 1960s (Sanguan 1969: 160-162). 35 In the following part of this paragraph, Prince Damrong displays his speculative knowledge that the Lawa might have been the Lao of indigenous inhabitants in the Chaophraya river basin, and that Kha might have been the Lao of indigenous inhabitants in the Mekong River basin (Damrong 1974 [1944]: 347). It is noteworthy that his speculation as to the Lawa is quite similar as the idea presented in the Census Explanations of 1904. This proposition that the Lawa might be the descendants of the indigenous Lao would be more definitively developed by Prince Damrong in his principal historical works of later years (Damrong 1914: 19; Damrong 1924: 1-2). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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[14 January 1907] …Concerning different races (chat) of people in these provinces (monthon), I tried to inquire about the languages of every group of people I came to meet. That is, I let them count in their languages from one up to ten and noted them to examine. It was found that only two kinds of languages, the Thai language and the Khmer language, were counted. … The reason for naming many groups with this and that differently seems to have been only caused by people’s dispersion in different localities for a long time. So, they began to feel alienated. But in fact, they are still one Thai race or one Khmer race, that’s all. (Damrong 1995: 115-116)

Thus, while Damrong acknowledges the Khmer people’s presence on the one hand, he assertively argues that the principal population (ratsadon phonlamueang) in the northeastern provinces is Thai. In contrast, there is no mention of the Lao at all throughout this journal,36 which has the opposite effect as that intended, of imparting an impression of strong Lao-consciousness. If compared with Chaem Bunnag’s discussion published in the inaugural issue of the Journal of the Siam Society in 1904, which was likewise based on field research in the northeastern provinces, the arbitrary absence of the Lao in Damrong’s journal is noticeable. According to Chaem, the inhabitants of the study region in those days were a mixed population of “Thai Lao” race (chat) and Suai race, called forest Khmer (khamen pa dong), or Lao and Khmer in short. Chaem also uses the word Thai group (phuak thai) in contrast with Suai, but he explicitly states on the basis of Lao chronicles (phongsawadan lao) that those Thai were Lao who had migrated down from the north within less than the past 200 years. He also accurately states that the “Thai Lao” people had spread downward to settle in this southern part of the country only as a result of Bangkok’s armed forces’s conquest of Wiangchan towards the end of 18th century (Prachakit Korachak 1904: 177, 180, 183-184). In contrast with Damrong’s journal and its arbitrary intentions, Chaem’s work appears to be more congruent with the scholarly object of the new journal. It is not difficult to understand why Interior Minister Prince Damrong’s thesis was significant. Phraya Ratchasena (Siri Thephatsadin na Ayutthaya), having served the Ministry of Interior for years, following Prince Damrong’s writing of “Rueang Thesaphiban,” subsequently wrote: The author has personally heard His Royal Highness [Prince Damrong] say [they] are Thai not Lao (pen thai mai chai lao) in relating the history of Thai race in Regions of Isan and Phayap, and that, however … their sounds of speech had changed out of tune such that outside people who didn’t know the history of their race misunderstood them as Lao and called them Lao (Thesaphiban 1966: 60; Thesaphiban 2002: 186-187). 36

In the journal of inspection trip as the Interior Minister to Chonburi in January 1901, Prince Damrong writes about the Lao people he met in the Phanatnikhom District in detail as the majority of the inhabitants. According to him, they were the Lao who had migrated from the “right side [of the Mekong],” i.e. the Northeast, during the Third Reign and their spoken language was still “authentically Lao” (lao thae) (CH 117, 119: 74). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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This assertion was enforced by the government in the way that “[His Royal Highness] strictly forbade the government officials to call the people of Isan and Phayap Lao; for example, in the census and other such instances [he] made them to be called Thai” (Thesaphiban 2002: 186-187). The phrase that was found in the Census Explanations, “not Lao, they are Thai (pen thai mi chai lao)” echoes Damrong’s own words. It was not mere knowledge corresponding to reality, but a definitive political implication, to create the norm that people of the kingdom (ratsadon) should be called Thai.37 At the beginning of the 20th century, the idea to eradicate the Lao from the kingdom, particularly from the Isan region, which comprised a large population of Lao, appears to have been developed with the imperative to solve the problems imposed by France.38 The French colonialists, who had firmly seized the other side of the Mekong in 1893, pursued a policy of harboring as many protégés as possible, which would result in encroachment on the kingdom’s population (Iijima 1976; Streckfuss 1993: 135-138).39 As the people called Lao were the most readily eligible for French protégé status, it was necessary to ensure that no Lao would remain among the kingdom’s population in order to prevent erosion.40 Prince Damrong himself was in the position most suited to the said imperative and to coping with the predicament. If we think carefully about who could possess a resolute-enough attitude and authority to erase Lao from the draft of PHMI, Prince Damrong appears to lead the candidates.41 Circumstantial evidence appears to suggest so as well.

Streckfuss, in writing that the elimination of the Lao as a racial category was “only the first part of a much larger and more profound historical change—the creation of “the Thai,” regards the Thai version of the 1902 treaty with France where Siam was replaced by Thai as indicative of the Siamese royalty’s “‘creatively adapting’ the concept of race and extending Thai racial boundaries to the existent territorial limits”(Streckfuss 1993: 140-143). 38 The manipulation of historical sources could also have been a response to the part of the Siamese royalist elite in the wake of defeat in the Franco-Siamese conflict, culminating in the crisis of 1893. See (Thongchai 2011). 39 How a space for a “Lao Laos” was carved out under French colonial tutelage is discussed by Ivarsson (2003; 2008). 40 For the complex vicissitudes surrounding the northern provinces formerly known as “Lao,” see (Easum 2015). 41 A typescript titled “Explanation of Thesaphiban history” (Athibai tamnan thesaphiban) and a part of manuscript with no title are reproduced in Thesaphiban (2002:8-23). They are a National Archives collection and presumably composed by Prince Damrong. To the typescript are added handwritten revisions (deletions and insertions of words and sentences, correction of words), the style and the handwriting of which appears in some measure resemblance to the traces of recasting found in the typescript of PHMI. Thinking that rigorous graphological analyses should be necessary for further investigation, the author would like to refrain from any definitive position. However, it seems highly possible that Prince Damrong was the determinate supervising editor of the PHMI. Importantly, it has been pointed out that Prince Damrong, meddling in “ethnic cleansing of history,” “expunged all ethnic references to the Lao” in his revisions of royal chronicles originally penned by Thipakorawong (Kham Bunnag) (Streckfuss 2012: 427). 37

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Concluding remarks Beginning with the pioneering work of Tej Bunnag (Tej 1977), interest in the reform of provincial administration during the Fifth Reign has produced several theses written by Thai scholars of younger generations, dealing with each province in detail throughout reform mostly based on archival sources. Both works of Thirachai (1984) and Wirot (1986), being two of them, unsurprisingly pay attention to the “Ordinance” of 1899 announcing the change of monthon names, which eliminated the connotation of racial otherness. According to Wirot, “it was because the royal court (ratchasamnak) in the center had the policy of integrating provinces into a nation state (rat-chat) … that the word Lao was eliminated in order not to make people feel alienated racially for being Lao, and not Thai” (Wirot 1986: 158).42 Thirachai, on the other hand, writes, “it indicated that the concern of the royal court in Bangkok was to integrate the various lands within the sphere of political and governmental influence into a single nation state (rat-prachachat) in order not to be separated, as Siam and Lao and Cambodia as had been” (Thirachai 1984: 196). It is noteworthy that what was called a “kingdom” in Damrong’s treatise has uniformly transformed into a “nation state.” However, it seems anachronistic to argue about a “nation state” on the part of people’s consciousness at the close of the 19th century. Apart from a handful of elites’ perceptions (cf. Streckfuss 2012: 427-428), the orthodoxy that was attained at this juncture was royalism at most, and it would take considerable time to instill a national consciousness into the masses (Tamada 1996). Now that more than a century has passed, the “nation state” discourse without doubt has pervaded enough discourse to be regarded the most appropriate explicable rhetoric. It is firmly an axiomatic premise that all the constituent members of the nation should be Thai. The identity of Thainess is then inclusive, however hierarchical it might be (Streckfuss 2012: 431). In the year after the first census (1905), the military conscription system for all intended male members was introduced, whereby the Siamese state started to create “Thai” subjects under the rule of the one and only king and who assumed prescribed duties equally. Around the same time, a sort of falsification was made to the PU text and, ultimately, the Phongsawadan huamueang monthon Isan came into being. Thus, the supposed readers in Bangkok became endowed with a “local history” (prawattisat thongthin) in conformity with their national perspective, which would serve the Bangkokcentric discourses of Thai national identity when they “determined the representation of the country’s regional and ethnic diversity” (Jory 2003). For the ethnic “others,” it was like a “forced inclusion” to the “Thainess” model of nationalism (Streckfuss 2012: 430), and nothing but a “conjuring trick” (Streckfuss 2012: 420). However, the question is not only about the creation of a local history. The fact that a historical text was manipulated, being controlled by outside values and logic, itself testifies to the ideologically charged nature of modern Siamese historiography. The modern Siamese and successive Thai historiography has been constructed while producing a huge amount of source materials esteemed as “canon,” a process that did 42

Wirot provides the English translation of rat-chat as “Nation State” (Wirot 1986: 148). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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not refrain from manipulating even historical texts. Particularly, the act of rewriting Lao as Thai provides suggestive evidence for the abiding nature of the arbitrary and forceful metanarrative of the “nation (chat)”, which would eventually embrace the whole state of modern Thailand. Finally, the previously referenced alternative account as to how the PHMI came to light should be addressed. According to Prince Damrong, Pathom Khanechon’s pursuit, which eventually bore fruit as the PHMI, started voluntarily. However, Toem, the author of Isan History (Prawattisat Isan), has provided a different narrative in the introduction of his book, based on the Records of Administration in Huanmueang Monthon Isan (Banthuek kan pokkhrong huamueang monthon Isan), which his father Phra Wiphakphotchanakit (Lek Singhatsathit) had written during his tenure as assistant commissioner of the Ministry of Interior (kha luang mahatthai phu chuai) at Ubon Ratchathani in 1906. The outline of Toem’s story is as follows: In the year 2443 of the Buddhist Era [1900], Prince Sanphasitthiprasong [the Royal Commissioner in charge of Monthon Huamueang Lao Kao, later Isan 18931910] ordered collection of khoi paper notebooks (samut khoi), to begin with, and important old documents including warrants of appointment of ranking lords, old and new, that could be found in all the dominions (huamueang) of varying size in Monthon Isan or somewhere else. When the documents were gathered, the Prince appointed Mom Amorawongwichit, Deputy Superintendent Commissioner (palat monthon) stationed at Ubon Ratchathani, as captain (mae kong), entrusting him with the business of compiling documentary records of the northeastern provinces, and my father as the assistant … When Mom Amorawongwichit finished compiling, the title Phongsawadan huamueang Isan was given to the book, which has more than twenty-five yok.43 (Toem 1999: (12)-(13))

There should be no reason to doubt the credibility of the records of Toem’s father, who took part in the scene. We know from his records that the Phongsawadan huamueang Isan was compiled on the basis of a large number of documents collected in the field wherever possible at that time. It is more than obvious that such a task could never be completed in one man’s spare time single-handedly. On the other hand, it seems probable that Prince Damrong’s commitment to the PHMI was also disguised and that he may have played a greater role than mere checker or proofreader. Prince Damrong, later in 1934, confided in personal correspondence with Prince Narit that while he was on the inspection trip to the northeastern provinces, wherever he went, he made inquiries about history (tamnan) and asked them to bring in old documents, such as mandates with official stamps, thus becoming acquainted with and listening to [histories] (SS6: 239).44 Part of the documents that Prince Damrong 43

In the space after the ending on the last page of the typescript PMU, there is a handwritten insertion that reads “twenty-five yok ends only here (yok 25 chop phiang ni).” “Yok” is a printer’s term for page size or counting pages. 44 A document titled “Rueang tang mueang nai monthon udon lae isan (Account of establishing dominions in Monthon Udon and Isan)” is attached to this letter to Prince Narit, dated December Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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viewed as important were transcribed on the spot, and the transcripts were brought back to Bangkok to be preserved in the fledging National Library under Prince Damrong’s supervision. Prince Damrong thought that these source materials, with which collection he had got involved, should be utilized when writing histories (Damrong 1987 [1915b]). The reason why Prince Damrong’s “official” account concerning the birth of PHMI told in the preface of the fourth volume of PP considerably differs from that related in the records of Toem’s father remains an open question. However, it is certain that the systematic endeavor to collect local documents, which had been carried out officially by the Superintendent Commissioner’s endorsement, was lost and that, instead, an exemplary model of a devoted Ministry of Interior bureaucrat was brought into existence. This article has dealt with only a single source material so far but, hopefully, individual cases of study will be accumulated subsequently. The whole apparatus of modern Siamese state historiography might gradually and eventually be elucidated to completion. Commencing with the dubious process of acquiring and collecting source materials, then, the problematic nature of the Prachum Phongsawadan and the peculiar heredities of the National Library of Thailand, to name but a few topics, must be discussed with vivacity.

References Amorawongwichit, Mom. ed. 1963 (Cremation Volume: Ammat-ek Phrayasisamruat, 1915). Phongsawadan huamueang monthon isan. Prachum Phongsadan lem 3 (Prachum Phongsawadan phak thi 4), Bangkok: Khrusapha. (Abbrev. as PHMI). Archaimbault, Charles. 1961. “L’Histoire de Campasak.” Journal Asiatique, 294: 519-595. Artha Nantachukra. 1986. “Prawattisat-niphon isan: kan sueksa choeng wikkhro prapheni chotbanthuk prawattisat huamueang isan thueng ton satawat thi 20” [Isan Historiography: A Study of Northeastern Thailand’s Historiographical Traditions until the Beginning of 20th Century]. MA thesis, Sinlapakon University. Bradley, D.B. 1971 (1873). Dictionary of Siamese Language. Reprint. Bangkok: Khurusapha. Chakkrit Noranitiphadungkan. 2002 (1963). Somdet phrachao boromwongthoe kromphraya damrong rachanuphap kap krasuang mahatthai [Prince Damrong and the Ministry of Interior]. Bangkok: Matichon. Chatchai Khumthawiphon. 1991. Somdet kromphraya damrong rachanuphap lae prawattisatniphon thai samai mai: kan wikhro choeng pratya [Prince Damrong and Modern Thai Historiography: A Philosophical Analysis]. Bangkok: Samnakphim Mahawitthayalai Thammasat. Chirabodee Tejasen and Brendan Luyt. 2014. “The Hophrasamut Wachirayan: Library and Club of the Siamese Aristocracy, 1881-1905.” Information and Culture, Vol. 15, No.3: 386-400. Chotmaihet rayathang senabodi krasuang mahatthai sadet truat ratchakan huamueang nai R.S.117, 119 [Record of distance of the inspection tour performed by the Minister of the 12, 1934. In this document of background history of northeastern provinces, the word Lao is retained (SS 6:245-255). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Interior Ministry in the years 117 and 119 of Ratanakosin era]. 1972. Bangkok (Volume printed in commemoration of Phra Thepsumethi’s sixtieth birthday) [Abbrev. as CH 117,119]. Chotmaihet sadet-truat ratchakan monthon nakhon ratchasima monthon udon lae monthon roiet khong somdet krom phraya damrong rachanuphap [Record of Prince Damrong’s inspection trip to Monthon Nakhon Ratchasima, Monthon Udon and Monthon Roiet]. 1995. Bangkok: Munlanithi Krom Phraya Damrong Rachanuphap lae Mom Chao Chongchitthanom Ditsakun- phrathida. Damrong Rachanuphap, Somdet Kromphraya. 1991 [1914]. “Tamnan nangsue phraratcha phongsawadan.” Phraratcha phongsawadan chabap phraratcha hatthalekha [Royal Chronicle of Royal Autograph Edition]. Bangkok: Krom Sinlapakon. Vol.1: 3-54 ____. 1963 [1915a]. “Kham nam phak thi 4” [Preface to the Fourth Volume]. Prachum Phongsawadan lem 3. Bangkok: Khrusapha. pp. 133-149. ____. 1987 [1915b]. Kham nam. San tra tang mueang sakon nakhon P.S.2381 [Forward. Mandate of establishment of Mueang Sakon Nakhon 2381 B.E. (1838)]. Sakon Nakhon: Witthayalai Khru Sakon Nakhon. ____. 1920. Rueang thio thi tang tang phak thi 4 wa-duai thio monthon udon lae monthon isan khong phracao boromwongthoe kromphra damrong rachanuphap [Prince Damrong’s Inspection Trip to Monthon Udon and Monthon Isan]. Bangkok (Cremation volume: Ammat-ek Phraya Wetsittniphilat). ____. 1923. “Phra prawat phrachao boromwongthoe kromluang sanphasitthiprasong.” Prachum prakat ratchakan thi 4 phak 5 (Collected proclamations of the Fourth Reign Part 5). (3)-(19). Bangkok (Cremation Volume of Prince Sanphasitthiprasong) ____. 1949 [1924]. Sadaeng banyai phongsawaean sayam [Lectures on the history of Siam]. Bangkok: Khurusapha. ____. 1974 [1944]. Nithan borannakhadi [Historical Anecdotes]. Bangkok: Khlang Witthaya. ____. 1995. Somdet kromphraya damrong rachanuphap sadet pai truat ratchakan monthon nakhon ratchasima lae monthon udon R.S.124 P.S.2449 [Prince Damrong’s Inspection Trip to Nakhon Ratchasima Circle and Udon Circle 1906]. Bangkok: Munlanithi Somdet Kromphraya Damrong Rachanuphap lae Mom Chao Choncitthanom Ditsakun. Damrong Rachanuphap, Somdet Kromphraya and Phraya Ratchasena (Siri Thephatsadin na Ayutthaya). 1966. Thesaphiban. Bangkok (Cremation volume: Phraya Chindarak). ____. 2002. Chabap matichon [Matichon edition]. Bangkok: Matichon [Abbrev. as Thesaphiban] Dararat Mettarikanon. 2003. Kan mueang song fang khong [The Politics of Both Sides of the Mekong]. Bangkok: Matichon. Dodd, William Clifton. 1923. The Tai Race: Elder Brother of the Chinese. Cedar Rapids Iowa: The Torch Press, 1923. Easum, Taylor M. 2015. “Imagining the ‘Laos Mission’: On the Usage of ‘Lao’ in Northern Siam and Beyond.” The Journal of Lao Studies, Special Issue 2015: 6-23. Evans, Grant. 1999. “Introduction: What is Lao Culture and Society?” In Grant Evans (ed.), Laos: Culture and Society, pp. 1-34. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Grabowsky, Volker. 1993. An Early Thai Census: Translation and Analysis. Bangkok: Institute of Population Studies, Chulalongkorn University. ____. 1999. “Forced Resettlement Campaigns in Northern Thailand during the Early Bangkok Period,” The Journal of the Siam Society, 87(Parts 1and2): 45-86. ____. ed. 1995. Regions and National Integration in Thailand 1892-1992. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Iijima Akiko. 1976. “Tai ni okeru ryoji-saibanken o megutte – hogomin mondai no shozai.” (On Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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the Consular Jurisdiction in Thailand: The Problem of French Protégés) (in Japanese). Journal of Southeast Asia Studies, 14(1): 71-98. ____. 1994. “The Phongsawadan Yonok as Part of the Modern Siamese Historiography,” unpublished paper presented at the 13th IAHA Conference, Sophia University Tokyo, September 5-9, 1994. ____. 1996. “Shamu kindai rekishigaku ni okeru Phongsawadan Yonok.” (The Phongsawadan Yonok in Modern Siamese Historiography) (in Japanese). Asian Cultural Studies (International Christian University Publications III-A), 22: 209-232. ____. 2008. “The ‘International Court’ System in the Colonial History of Siam.” Taiwan Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 5(1): 31-64. Ivarsson, Søren. 2003. Making Laos ‘Our Space’: Thai Discourses on History and Race, 19001941. In Christopher E. Goscha and Søren Ivarsson (ed.), Contesting Visions of the Lao Past, pp. 239-264. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. ____. 2008. Creating Laos: The Making of a Lao Space between Indochina and Siam, 18601945. Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Jory, Patrick. 2000. “Books and the Nation: The Making of Thailand’s National Library.” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 31-2: 351-373. ____. 2003. “Problems in Contemporary Thai Nationalist Historiography.” Kyoto Review of Southeast Asia, 3. Keyes, Charles F. 1967. Isan: Regionalism in Northeastern Thailand. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Southeast Asia Program Data Paper: Number 65. Kotmai tra sam duong [The Law of Three Seals]. 1962(1805). Bangkok: Khurusapha. 5v. [Abbrev. as KTSD.] Naritsaranuwattiwong, Somdet Chaofa Kromphraya and Somdet Phrachaoboromwongthoe Kromphraya Damrong Rachanuphap. 1961. San somdet lem 6. Bangkok: Khurusapha. [Abbrev. as SS 6] NL [National Library, Bangkok]. 001.3/44 “Phongsawadan Mueang Ubon Ratchathani” [Abbrev. as NL. PMU.] Nithi Iaosiwong. ed. 1996. Prachum phongsawadan chabap rat phak thi 1 phraratcha- phongsawadan krung ratanakosin ratchakan thi 1 chabap chao phraya thiphakorawong [Collected Histories People’s Edition part 1 the Royal Chronicle of the First Reign of Bangkok Dynasty]. Bangkok: Amarin. Pallegoix, Jean Baptiste. 1972 [1854]. Dictionarium Linguae Thai, Westmead, Farmborough, Hants: Gregg International. (Originally published in 1854, Paris). Phaithun Mikuson. 1972. “Kan patirup kan pokkhrong monthon isan samai thi phrachao boromwongthoe kromluang sanphasitthiprasong song pen khaluang yai (P.S. 2436-2453)” [Reform of administration in Monthon Isan during the period when Prince Sanphasitthirason was the High Commissioner (1893-1910)]. MA thesis: Witthayalai Wicha Kansuksa. ____. 1974. Kan patirup kan pokkhrong monthon isan nai ratchasamai phrabat somdet phrachunlachomklao chaoyuhua [Governmental Reform in Monthon Isan during King Chulalongkorn’s Reign]. Bangkok: Bannakit Trading. Phongsawadan phak isan chabap khong phra sunthoraratchadet (khae pathumchat). 1929. n.p. (Cremation volume for Mom Sap Sithawat na Ayuthaya). [Abbrev. as PPI.A] Phongsawadan phak isan chabap khong phraya khatiyawongsa (lao na roiet). 1929 (1911). n.p. (Cremation volume for Nang Sisupha (Ro Iamsiri)). [Mahasarakham: Sathaban Rachaphat Mahasarakham.1994] [Abbrev. as PPI.B] Prachakit Korachak, Phraya (Chaem Bunnag).1904. “Wa duai mae nam mun lae mueang tawan

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ok” [Concerning the River Mun and the Eastern States]. Journal of the Siam Society Vol. 1: 175-190. ____. 1973 [1907]. Phongsawadan yonok [The Yonok History], 7th ed. Bangkok: Khlang Witthaya. [Abbrev. as PY] Saichon Satayanurak. 2003. Somdet kromphraya damrong rachanuphap kan sang attalak “mueang thai” lae “chan” khong chao sayam. Bangkok: Matichon. Saguan Chotisukkharat.1969. Thai yuan-khon mueang. Bagnkok: Odeon Store. Saranukrom watthanatham thai phak isan (Encyclopaedia of Thai Culture Isan Region), 1999. 15 vols. Bangkok. [Abbrev. as SWTPI] Sathian Lailak et al. ed. 1935-. Prachum kotmai pracham sok [Collected Laws Periodical]. Bangkok. [Abbrev. as PKPS] Snit Smuckarn and Kennon Breazeale. 1988. A Culture in Search of Survival: The Phuan of Thailand and Laos, Monograph Series 31, New Haven: Yale University Southeast Asian Studies. Streckfuss, David. 1993. “The Mixed Colonial Legacy in Siam: Origins of Thai Racialist Thought, 1890-1910.” In Laurie Sears (ed.), Autonomous Histories Particular Truths: Essays in Honor of John Smail, pp.123-153. Center for Southeast Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin-Madison. ____. 2012. “An ‘ethnic’ reading of ‘Thai’ history in the twilight of the century-old official ‘Thai’ national model.” South East Asia Research, 20, 3: 419-441. Stuart-Fox, Martin. 1998. The Lao Kingdom of Lān Xāng: Rise and Decline, Bangkok: White Lotus. Tamada Yoshifumi. 1996. “Phibun and the Formation of a Nation in Thailand, 1938-1941.” (in Japanese). Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 34(1): 127-150. Tej Bunnag. 1977. The Provincial Administration of Siam 1892-1915: The Ministry of the Interior under Prince Damrong Rajanubhab. Oxford University Press. Thirachai Bunmatham. 1984. “Prawattisat thongthin khong huamueang kalasin P.S.2336-2450” [Local History of Kalasin Province]. MA Thesis: Chulalongkorn University. Thongchai Winichakul. 1994. Siam Mapped: A History of the Geo-body of a Nation, University of Hawaii Press. ____. 2011. “Siam’s Colonial Conditions and the Birth of Thai History.” In Volker Grabowsky (ed), Southeast Asian Historiography: Unravelling the Myths, pp. 30-51. Bangkok: River Books. Toem Wiphakphochanakit. 1999 [1970]. Prawattisat isan (History of Isan), Third printing (Second edition). Bangkok: Thammasat University Press. Tueanchai Chaisin. 1993. “Lan na nai kan rap ru khong chon chan pokkhrong sayam P.S. 24372476” [Perception of Lan Na among the Ruling Class of Siam, 1894-1900]. MA thesis: Thammasat University. Wirot Hipkaew. 1986. “Prawattisat isan boriwen lum nam chi ton klang rawang P.S. 2325-P.S. 2443” [Isan History of the Middle Chi River Basin 1782-1900]. MA Thesis: Sinakharinwirot Prasanmit University. Wyatt, David. K. 1994. Studies in Thai History Collected Articles, Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. ____. 2002. Siam in Mind, Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books.

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The Mongol-Yuan in Yunnan and ProtoTai/Tai Polities during the 13th-14th Centuries Christian Daniels

Abstract—This article examines Mongol-Yuan influence on the emergence of proto-Tai/Tai polities after c. 1260 in the upper Ayeyarwaddy (Irrawaddy) and Mekong river regions using the Yuan History, a recently discovered tomb inscription of 1461, and other Chinese and Tai sources. I make five arguments. The first is that as a successor state the Mongol-Yuan gained possession of former Dali kingdom territories in Yunnan and northern mainland Southeast Asia by restoring political power to the deposed Duan royal family. The second is that the restoration of the Duan aided the Mongol-Yuan advance into northern mainland Southeast Asia along communication routes leading from western Yunnan to the upper Ayeyarwaddy and Mekong river regions established during the Dali Kingdom period. The third is that Mäng2 Maaw2 (Moeng Mao, Chinese: Luchuan 麓川), a large political Tai confederation in the western mainland, arose c. 1335-1350s in the context of the expulsion of Mian power from the Upper Ayeyarwaddy by the Mongol-Yuan during the 1280s, and after the garrisoned Mongol-Yuan troops withdrew in 1303. The fourth is that the case of a Han Chinese man appointed to the Pacification Office in Lan Na c. 1341 attests that the Duan family aided MongolYuan administration of northern mainland Southeast Asia by supplying lower level personnel to staff the yamen of Tai rulers appointed as native officials. The fifth is that, judging from the historical data, such yamen exercised limited influence as catalysts of Tai polity building. These five arguments are linked. Taken together, they demonstrate that available evidence does not substantiate Victor Lieberman’s claim that the Mongol-Yuan “encouraged the creation of Tai client states” in the upper Mekong by providing them with “new military and administrative models” through their status as native officials. My conclusion is that notions of “patronage” and “client states” are misleading because they downplay the centrality of the proto Tai/Tai as agents navigating their own way to polity building; proto Tai/Tai agency is verified by their ambitious acquisition of new skills, technologies and writing systems.

Qubilai Qan’s conquest of the Dali Kingdom 大理國 (937–1253) in 1253/54 by order of his elder brother Möngke marked the first encounter that Mon-Khmer and protoTai/Tai polities within the orbit of Yunnan had with direct administration by Chinese dynastic power, and triggered momentous changes over the 127 years of rule by the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Mongol-Yuan.1 The Mongol-Yuan launched campaigns into mainland Southeast Asia early after the conquest, even before they gained complete control over the core areas of the fallen Dali kingdom on the Yun-Gui plateau. Initially designed to establish a bridgehead for attacking the Southern Song, the conquest ultimately turned the kingdom’s territory into a province of China, and laid the foundations for administration by the Ming and Qing dynasties.2 The failure of campaigns against the Tran dynasty 陳朝 (1225–1400) of Dai Viet and the Mian 緬 of Pagan, has led historians to conclude that Mongol-Yuan intrusions exerted limited influence on the course of indigenous history in Southeast Asia. In this article, I argue that their administration of Yunnan did influence polities located at the southern edge of the Mongol-Yuan world in today’s northern Southeast Asia. Empirical evidence comes from a recently-discovered tomb inscription of 1461 which, for the first time, divulges details of Mongol-Yuan administration of polities formerly subordinate to the Dali Kingdom through native officials (tuguan 土官).3 This stele documents the appointment of a Chinese man, named Kang Min 康旻, to the “nominal office of Pacifier 宣慰名職” in the Babai Pacification Office 八百宣慰 司 c. 1341. Residing at Zhaozhou 趙州 (today’s Fengyi township 鳳儀鎮) near Dali, safe from malaria-carrying mosquitos at an elevation of over 1,900 metres, he ventured down to his jurisdiction in the insalubrious climate of northern Thailand for roughly four months every year. According to malaria legends in China, contact with mists, miasmas, or pestilential vapours caused death, so his service was seasonal, “assuming office in winter, and returning [before] summer”.4 Babai 八百is the Chinese designation for the Tai polity of Lan Na (also known as Babai Xifu 八百媳婦) founded by King Mangrai (r. 1259–1311)5 in northern Thailand. It is highly unusual for a non-indigene like Kang Min, who hailed from Shaanxi 陝 His elder brother Möngke (Xianzong 憲宗 r.1251–1259) ordered Qubilai Qan (1215–94; shizu 世祖 r.1260–1294) to begin the campaign against the Dali Kingdom in the summer of 1253. For the Mongol conquest of Dali, see Herman (2007), pp. 47–49. The Mongol-Yuan 蒙元 period dates from the foundation of the Great Mongol Nation (Yeke Mongghol Ulus) in 1206. In Yunnan, the Mongol-Yuan period begins with the conquest of 1253 and ends in 1382 when overthrown by the Ming. Note that Mongol-Yuan domination of Yunnan commenced twenty-six years before the demise of the Southern Song, and ended fourteen years after the foundation of the Ming dynasty in 1368. 2 The Branch Secretariat of Yunnan and other places (Yunnan dengchu xingzhong shusheng 雲南 等處行中書省) was established in 1276, over twenty years after the cataclysmic fall of the Dali kingdom, and it marked the foundation of Yunnan as a province of China, see YS, 61.1458. This was 137 years before the creation of Guizhou province in 1413 by the Ming dynasty. 3 The term for native officials during the Yuan and early Ming was tuguan土官. The earliest appearance of the term tusi 土司, which was used extensively during the Qing period, was in an entry for 1542 (Jiajing 21) in the Shizong Shilu 世宗實錄. The same source records ten more instances up to 1566 (Jiajing 45), see Luo Zhong and Luo Weiqing (2016), pp. 7-8, and Dai Jinxin (2015). None of these early references recorded the usage of the term tusi in Yunnan. 4 The stele titled, “Tomb Inscription for Instructor Mr. Kang (Jiaoyu Kang Gong Muzhi 教諭康 公墓誌)”, is dated 12 March to 10 April 1461 (Tianshun 5/2). The printed version is in DFGJ, pp. 203–205. 5 For the biographical data of King Mangrai, I follow Liew-Herres, Grabowsky, and Wichienkeeo (2008), p. 53 fn 203. 1

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西 in faraway north China, to serve as a native official.6 The Yuan History recorded Phayu (Han Bu 韓部 r. 1337/38–1355), the incumbent ruler of Lan Na, as the native official of the Babai Pacification Office in an entry dated February 1, 1346 (Zhizheng 至 正 6/12/ jiawu). The years from 1341 to 1346 roughly accord with the period of Kang Min’s appointment, but no Chinese or Tai source mentions Kang Min.7 Deployment of non-indigenous officials to participate in the administration of Mon-Khmer and protoTai/Tai polities reveals a more enduring Mongol-Yuan presence in northern mainland Southeast Asia than suggested by conventional accounts of short-lived, futile military forays. Official service in the Upper Mekong river region by men like Kang Min raises the issue of whether the Mongol-Yuan actually did prompt the sudden entrance of Tai polities onto the historical stage. By the early 1300s, Tai dominated the upper and middle Mekong, Haripunjaya Kingdom centred at Lamphun, and most of the Chaophraya plain where they mingled with Mons and Khmers. They commenced attacking the charter state of Angkor at roughly the same time as they started raiding Mian polities. As early as 1297, Tai-led forces destroyed villages on the Cambodian plain, and incursions against Angkor escalated after the founding of Ayutthaya in c. 1351.8 Victor Lieberman and others identify martial skills (“mercenaries and low-level tributaries”), superior agricultural techniques (dissemination of productive new rice strains and water management skills) and climate change as factors causing the expansion of Tai polities and the decline of Mon and Khmer royal power in the Upper and Middle Mekong.9 By contrast, the impact of Tai (Shan) polities in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy river region on Mian polities was not long lasting, a situation dissimilar to the influence of Tai polities on the Mon and Khmer in the Mekong areas. First, Tai raids did not end in systematic settlement because Tai migrants assimilated to Burman culture, often becoming “‘Burman’ after one or two generations”.10 Second, political disunity among Tai leaders prevented them from mounting united campaigns against Ava.11 Third, Tai elites emulated Burman Buddhist culture, so they “never seriously threatened Burman cultural supremacy”.12 Though Tai pressure on Angkor and Pagan commenced only after the conquest of The Mongol-Yuan 蒙元 period dates from the foundation of the Great Mongol Nation (Yeke Mongghol Ulus) in 1206. In Yunnan, the Mongol-Yuan period begins with the conquest of 1253 and ends in 1382 when overthrown by the Ming. 7 YS, 41. 876. Also, see Liew-Herres, Grabowsky, and Wichienkeeo (2008), p. 86. 8 Lieberman (2003), pp. 241–242. Concerning early Tai movements and culture, see Lieberman (2003), pp. 240–242; Wyatt, (1984), pp. 24–60; Luce (1958), pp. 123–214; and O’Connor (1995), pp. 982–83. 9 Lieberman and Buckley (2012), pp. 1075–10768) also downplays Tai influence. 10 Lieberman (2003), p. 125. 11 For Tai raids on Pagan and Ava see Sun (2000), pp. 34–44, 224–42; Fernquest (2005), pp. 284– 395, and Fernquest (2006), pp. 27–81. 12 Lieberman (2003), p. 125. Aung-Thwin (1998) also downplays Tai influence. Daniels (2012) cites the borrowing of Burmese script by the Tai of northern Burma and south-west Yunnan as an example of Burmese cultural influence on Tai rulers and aristocracy in the 13th century after the weakening of Pagan and the rise of Ava. 6

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Yunnan, past scholarship has downplayed the role of the Mongol-Yuan. This article sets out to gauge the extent of Mongol-Yuan influence on the emergence of proto-Tai/Tai polities in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region, especially their influence on the formation of the large Tai polity of Mäng2 Maaw2 (Tay: Moeng Mao, Chinese: Luchuan 麓川).13 I use the case of Kang Min and his sons to elucidate how the Mongol-Yuan administered Mon-Khmer and Tai polities. On the eve of Qubilai Qan’s conquest, the frontiers of the Dali Kingdom reached “the city of Koncan / Kaungzin [Chinese: Jiangtoucheng 江頭城, literally “the city at the head of the river” near Bhamo] in the land of the Mian in the south-west, and “the Lucang river 鹿滄江in the Lin’an Route 臨 安路” to the south-east (YS, 61.1457). The area controlled by the Dali kingdom stretched in an arc from the Upper Ayeyarwaddy, through the upper Mekong river region to the Da River (黑河 Black river) in Lai Châu 萊州, north-west Vietnam. Bordering on the Tibetan cultural area to the north-west, and on Song China to the north-east, the territorial reach of the kingdom encompassed parts of present-day northern mainland Southeast Asia and Sichuan province. To assess the influence of the Mongol-Yuan on the formation of proto-Tai/Tai polities, we need first empirically to verify the process by which they laid claim to the territories of the Dali Kingdom. I argue that the Mongol-Yuan utilised the political authority of the deposed royal Duan family 段氏, and slowly moved south in stages to establish control over the upper Ayeyarwaddy and upper Mekong river regions. Torturous as it will seem, I provide considerable detail on the relationship between the Duan family and the Mongol-Yuan advance south because this important association has never been demonstrated before, and because the Duan facilitated Mongol-Yuan access to the region. Opportunities for Kang Min and his sons to serve as MongolYuan officials derived from their close association with the Duan family. The stele is significant precisely because it recorded the case of the Duan supplying officials to staff administrative units in Mon-Khmer and Tai polities. The Duan clearly played a vital role in aiding Mongol-Yuan administration of these polities. By focusing on the role of this family, we are able to access Mongol-Yuan influence on the formation of Tai polities from a fresh perspective, one that enhances our overall understanding of polities at the southernmost margins of the Mongol-Yuan world.

The text of the 1461 stele The published version of the stele, hereafter the Inscription, appears in a collection of 104 stelae from Fengyi township, many of which have never been published before. Mr. Ma Cunzhao 馬存兆, an independent scholar from Fengyi Township, collected and transcribed the stelae with co-operation from Professor Ma Jianxiong 馬健雄 at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology (HKUST) and researchers at Dali University. Staff at the HKUST, the South China Research Center 華南研究中 The upper Ayeyarwaddy river region includes the Shan and Kachin areas of northern Myanmar and the Dehong Tai and Jingpo Autonomous Area in south-west Yunnan. 13

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心. both at Nansha 南沙 in Guangzhou and at Clearwater Bay in Hong Kong, inputted and edited the texts. The South China Research Center published the stelae in a single volume book under the title, Dali Fengyi Gubeiwen Ji 大理鳳儀古碑文集 (DFGJ Old Stelae from Fengyi, Dali) in 2013. Descendants of Kang Min unearthed the Inscription (engraved on locally quarried marble), from their own dry field on Snake mountain (Sheshan 蛇山) in Zhihua Village 芝 華村, Fengyi township. The version published in 2013 was based on a transcription executed by Ma Cunzhao, a native of this village, circa 2004, about the time of discovery. On my visits to the site in 2015 and 2016 respectively, I collated the published version with the stele now standing (see Figure 1), and observed some discrepancies, which arose due to: (1) mistakes in the initial c. 2004 transcription; (2) errors that crept in during the input/proof-reading process; and (3) re-engraving of a limited number of characters on the stele before erecting it at the place of discovery, circa 2011. Though these discrepancies do not affect the factual evidence recorded, I have Figure 1. Chinese text of Inscription, dated, 1461, standing at Zhihua Village 芝華村, Fengyi 鳳儀, Dali, Yunnan. prepared an amended version of the text, reproduced in this article, by comparing Ma Cunzhao’s original c. 2004 transcription (now in the possession of my colleague, Professor Ma Jianxiong), the published version and the stele now standing. The front side of the Inscription recorded the lives of Kang Haoqian 康好謙 and his ancestors since Kang Min, in Chinese. It has a mushroomshaped cap with five bīja (seed) letters encircling the Chinese title, “Jiaoyu Figure 2. The five bīja (means seed) letters on the cap of the Kanggong muzhi 教諭康公墓誌” tombstone on the front side of Inscription. Each bīja letter a Buddhist divinity, and from right to left reads: aḥ, above the Chinese text (see Figure represents hrīḥ, āṃḥ, tāṃ and hūṃ. I am grateful to Dr. Bill Mak for the 2). The reverse side is inscribed with decipherment. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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a Sanskrit Uṣṇīṣavijayadhāraṇī (Chinese: 佛頂尊勝陀羅尼), a Mahāyāna formula associated with Buddhist funerary rites widely practised across Buddhist Asia since the 8th century (see Figure 3). This dhāraṇī, written in nāgarī script (eighteen lines), is dedicated to Kang Haoqian, and lists the names of family members in Chinese at the bottom.14 Kang Min’s descendants cemented over the mushroom-shaped cap and the left and right edges on the reverse side, which has resulted in the loss of one row of Sanskrit text at the top and some letters at both edges. The Uṣṇīṣavijayadhāraṇī is an undated religious text, and is not a translation of the Chinese text on the front side.15 Dhāraṇīs, or mantras, were only efficacious if scripted in Sanskrit, because they lost their potency in translation, and, indeed, it is probably for this reason that no Chinese renditions of dhāraṇī have been discovered in Yunnan. Tantric magic spells written in siddhamātṛkā (or siddham) script on the underside of burial urn lids dated the 12th to the 14th century have been unearthed at Laifeng Mountain 來鳳山, Tengchong 騰衝, deep in Mon-Khmer and proto-Tai/Tai territory.16 The twelve Chinese characters embedded in line thirteen of the Sanskrit text on the Dr. Bill Mak 麥文彪 of Kyoto University has identified the script as an intermediate form, lying “between siddhamātṛkā (or siddham) and nāgarī, exhibiting characteristics resembling the latter more closely than the former.” Although Oskar von Hinüber (1989) identified this script to be siddham, Dr. Mak points out that the vowel representation and letters such as “a” and “i” indicate a nāgarī affiliation (not devanāgarī). Furthermore, he notes that the usage of nāgarī during the early Ming is not surprising since Sanskrit inscriptions in other parts of China during the Yuan/Ming period were written in either rañjana (lantsa) or nāgarī scripts, not siddhmātṛkā.” Indian monks who came to China during the Song period used nāgarī script, instead of the siddhmātṛkā, script of the Tang period. Dali scribes used nāgarī script to copy two Sanskrit texts included in the Fanxiang juan 梵像卷 (Scroll of Buddhist Images) executed by the Dali Kinggdom court painter, Zhang Shengwen 張勝溫, and dated 1180; the Duoxin Jingzhuang 多心經幢 (Heart Sutra Pillar) and the Huguo Jingzhuang 護國經幢 (Realm-Protecting Sutra Pillar), see Li Lincan (1982), pp. 121. The Uṣṇīṣavijayadhāraṇī on the reverse side of the Inscription followed the Yuan/Ming tradition of Sanskrit orthography. This explanation is based on Dr. Mak’s seminar talk at the Division of Humanities, HKUST, titled “Sanskrit inscriptions and manuscripts in Yunnan, a preliminary survey”, 30 August 2017, and email communications dated 31 August and 1 September 2017 respectively. 15 The absence of a date is not unusual. Dr. Mak informed me that he has not seen any dates on Sanskrit materials from Yunnan, or other parts of East Asia, email communications of 31 August and 1 September 2017 respectively. 16 These magic spells were probably designed to prevent evil spirts from entering the burial urn. My colleague, Professor Takashima Jun 高島淳, of the Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, kindly provided a tentative transcription of the text in an email dated 13 September 2004. A photograph of the text was published in Tōkyō Gaikokugo Daigaku Ajia Afurika Gengo Bunka Kenkyūjo Ed., (2005), p. 40. Taking into consideration the mistakes in the orthography of the original, Dr. Mak has kindly emended the text as shown below and provided an English translation. Transcription: “oṃ visphuradakṣa vajrapaṃcara hūṃ phaṭ” Emendation: “oṃ visphurad rakṣa vajrapaṃjara hūṃ phaṭ” Translation: “Oṃ!  Protect by darting asunder! Oh, the Diamond Net vajrapañjara  金剛 網）! Hūṃ! Phaṭ!” Dr Mak suggests that it may be connected to the Vajrapañjara Tantra, sometimes translated as the “Indestructible Tent Tantra”, email from Dr Mak dated 19 September 2017. 14

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reverse side of the Inscription, 追為顯 考康公諱賜好謙神主, confirm Kang Haoqian as the dedicatee, corroborating that this Uṣṇīṣavijayadhāraṇī matches the deceased recorded in the Chinese text on the front side. As protégés of the Duan family, it is not surprising that the Yuan History failed to record Kang Min and his sons. Extant sources only scantily described the activities of their illustrious patrons, the Duan, during the Mongol-Yuan period, not to speak of upstart migrant families like the Kangs. Single steles recording valuable information about local history are common amongst pre-Ming historical materials for Yunnan. For instance, the renowned stele, Cuan Longyan Bei 爨龍 顏碑, is the only source documenting the political career of Cuan Longyan 爨龍顏 (386-446), a local magnate whom the Jin Figure 3. The text of the Uṣṇiṣavijayadhāraṇī in nāgarī script 晉 and Liu Song 劉宋 dynasties appointed on the reverse side of Inscription. According to decipherment by Dr. Bill Mak, the text begins with “… siṣṭāya buddhāya”, to administer Jianning Prefecture in ending with “nāma dhāraṇi samāpadam [sic] iti” plus the Ningzhou 寧州建寧郡 (today’s Qujing additional bīja letters “oṃ aṃ svāhā”. He notes that the inking of the letters in black is rare, although colouring with City 曲靖市 in eastern Yunnan). No red and black ink is found in a number of Ming specimens. standard history ever recorded his name The content of this text is practically identical to other Uṣṇīṣavijayadhāraṇī from Yunnan, as deciphered by Walter and his appointment to the offices listed Liebenthal (1947a), (1947b) and (1955), and more recently in this stele (Kajiyama, 2017). Numerous by Oskar von Hinüber (1989). Dr. Mak points out that a comparison with other specimens from Yunnan reveals that stelae from the Yuan to the Ming included the textual content of the Uṣṇiṣavijayadhāraṇī, on the reverse in the Dali Congshu Jinshi Pian 大理叢 side of Inscription, resembles that of the late Ming type reported by Liebenthal (1955). The key characteristic of the 書金石篇 (DCJP Collected Materials late Ming type was the inclusion of the bīja letter “bhrūṃ” in the text, as seen in the first row of this photograph, after the on Dali: Epigraphy Volumes) recorded letter “oṃ”. unique data, yet historians do not query their veracity as valuable sources simply on the grounds of a lack of corroborative evidence. Likewise, there is no reason to doubt the authenticity of the Inscription. I discussed the Inscription in a paper presented at the Sixth International Symposium on the Chinese Tusi System and Culture held at Yongshun 永順, Hunan. on 22 October 2016, and no participants raised concerns about its value as a historical source.17 The format of the text resembles other mid-15th century tombstone inscriptions from Dali, especially in the recording of female offspring and their marriage unions. Also, the place names in the Inscription can be verified by other sources. 17

For the published version of this conference paper, see Tang Li (2017), pp. 15-19. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Restoration of the Duan family One event, hitherto overlooked, yet vitally important for comprehending MongolYuan strategies to acquire former territories of the Dali Kingdom in northern Southeast Asia, was their relationship with the once deposed Duan royal family. Möngke restored temporal power to the last King Duan Xingzhi 段興智 in 1255, and revived his Sanskrit regal title maharajā (maheluocuo 摩訶羅嵯) in 1256.18 The title maharajā connoted Duan Xingzhi’s role as a cakravartin, or universal ruler, with an ancestry consecrated by the weight of history; the Duans were a royal family reincarnated from a Maitreya Buddha descended from the Tus̙ ita heaven.19 Mongol-Yuan recognition of this title reinstated his religious and temporal authority (and presumably that of his descendants too), a political resource that facilitated their administration of Yunnan. To further this purpose, Möngke invested Duan Xingzhi with authority to control local peoples described as the various barbarians (zhuman 諸蠻), white Cuan 白爨 and other tribes (dengbu 等部). Möngke also assigned the youngest brother of Xingzhi’s father, Duan Fu 段福, to lead the indigenous armies. Duan Xingzhi responded enthusiastically to demands from the MongolYuan. He handed over power to his younger brother Duan Shi 段實 (also known as Duan Juri 段苴日; incumbent 1261-1282), and set out to recover polities formerly subordinate to the Dali kingdom, with Duan Fu at the head of a 20,000-man strong We learn from the Yuan History, Möngke appointed “Duan Xingzhi to take charge of state affairs (yi Duan Xingzhi zhu guoshi 以段興智主國事 )” after the conquest of Dali, in recognition for the loyalty he displayed by presenting maps, requesting the pacification of ethnic groups, and suggesting policies for administration and taxation in 1255, see YS, 166. 3910. Neither Hayashi (1996), nor Fang Hui 方慧 (2001), pp. 48–52, pointed out the important role played by the restored Duan Family in managing polities formerly subordinate to them. Fang Hui summarised the contribution of the Duan family to Mongol-Yuan rule as assisting in the conquest of local leaders, participating in the campaign against the Tran Dynasty of Annam, and aiding them overthrowing the Southern Song. 19 Zhang Xilu (1991), p, 183-184, interpreted the restoration of the maharajā title as signifying that Duan Xingzhi was “a great tantric king (mijiao dawang 密教 大王)”. Judging from the Nanzhao Tuzhuan (12th or 13th century copy), maharajā referred to the Mahayana tradition of kingship. This scroll depicted Menglonghao 蒙隆昊 or Longshun 隆舜 (reigned 877-?), the twelfth Nanzhao King, barefooted with his hair in a topnot and his hands cupped, waiting to be consecrated with water 灌頂 and pronounced monarch in front of a statute of Guanyin (Avalokitesva Bodhisattva 觀 世音菩薩). An inscription in Chinese beside Longshun identified him as the “maharajā 摩訶羅嵯, the local cakravartin (tu lunwang 土輪王)”, who “accepts responsibility for the good and the mean, and requests all four quarters come together as one family 擔畀謙[慊]賤，四方請為一家”, see Li Lincan (1982), p. 137. The Fanxiang juan 梵像卷 of c. 1180 also illustrated a maharajā about to be consecrated with water before being declared king, see illustration 55 in Li Lincan (1982), p. 96. The coupling of the terms maharajā and cakravartin indicates the existence of the Mahayana tradition of kingship in Yunnan from the later 9th century, at least. Apart from inferring that the king was a universal monarch (世界大王) and a king of kings (王中之王), the term cakravartin 轉輪王 also signified that the king had assumed the form of a Bodhisattva Maitreya 彌勒菩薩 to found and rule his royal kingdom according to Hindu or Buddhist beliefs. Ku Cheng-mei (2016), p. 245, pointed out that this tradition of kingship was a characteristic feature of Mahayana Buddhist kingship in her study of the King of Dvaravati. 18

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Bo 僰 and Cuan 爨 army, serving as the vanguard for the battle-hardened Mongol commander, Uriyangqadai (兀良合台 d. 1272).20 Although the restoration of the Duan family stabilised the Dali region, it took the Mongol-Yuan until about 1274 to overcome local leaders in the Shanchan 善闡 (Kunming) area (Herman 2007, 48-49). These are the events surrounding the escalation of the deposed Duan royal family to the highest ranking native office in western Yunnan. Unofficial histories (yeshi 野史) refer to them as the Duan Family General Administrator (Duan shi zongguan 段氏總 管), a hereditary office headed by a total of twelve Duan men during the Mongol-Yuan period. Hayashi Ken’ichirō (林謙一郎) divides Duan family administration history into three periods, and empirically demonstrates that the term Duan shi zongguan actually included two different administrative titles, one civil and one military.21 The first period encompassed the first twenty years of Mongol-Yuan rule, from 1253 to 1273, prior to the foundation of Yunnan province in 1276. By restitution of temporal and religious authority as Maharajā, Duan Family General Administrators redeemed some measure of control over their former territories, or spheres of influence. This benefited the Mongol-Yuan by facilitating the mobilisation of Duan-led “Cuan-Bo armies” (爨僰軍) to eradicate resistance in Yunnan, and aided the conquest of the Southern Song. Some Cuan-Bo troops even settled in Hunan (湖南), where their descendants still reside today (Hayashi 2016, 378-379). The second period lasted from 1274 until c. 1330. After the foundation of Yunnan Province 雲南行省, the Mongol-Yuan rescinded the Duan entitlement to govern the whole of Yunnan on their behalf, and confined their administrative power to western Yunnan, which included Mon-Khmer and proto-Tai/Tai areas en route to the Upper Ayeyarwaddy. Two different hereditary offices established at this time attested to this rearrangement. The title of the first office was the General Administrator of the Dali Route (Dali lu zongguan 大理路總管), bestowed on Duan Shi in 1274 (YS,166. 3910); incumbents of this office were also known as the Military-cum-Civilian General Administrator of the Dali Route (Dali lu junmin zongguan 大理路軍民總官). The title of the second office was the Pacification Commissioner and Commander-in-Chief of Dali, Jinchi and Other Places (Dali Jinchi deng chu Xuanweishi Duyuanshuai 大理 金齒等處宣慰使都元帥), and its holder served as a military officer responsible for western Yunnan, including Dali, Jinchi and proto-Tai/Tai territories.22 Duan males headed both hereditary offices, which they passed down, either from brother to brother, or from uncle to nephew. Hayashi argues that this dual structure constituted the backbone of restored Duan political power, and he cites three pairs of appointments (1) Duan Xingzhi and Duan Fu; (2) Duan Zhong 段忠 (incumbent 1283) YS, 166.3910 refers to Duan Juri as Xinjuri 信苴日. Unless otherwise noted, the periodisation and source material is based on written comments presented by Hayashi Ken’ichirō at the Historical Development of the Plains and Hills Bordering Southwest China and Southeast Asia Zomia Study Group Special International Workshop, at Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Kyoto University, 13 January 2017. 22 YS, 166.3911 recorded the bestowal of this title on Duan Shi’s son, Duan Aqing 段阿慶. For the dates of Duan Zheng and Duan Aqing, see Fang (2001), p. 8. 20 21

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and Duan Qing 段慶 (incumbent 1284-1306); and (3) Duan Qing and Duan Zheng 段正 (incumbent 1307-1316).23 A stele, Jiafeng Kongzi Shengzhao Bei 加封孔子聖詔 碑 (dated 1309), discovered at Dali in 1984 and now held at the Dali City Museum, recorded Duan men contemporaneously assigned to these two offices: namely Duan Zheng, who was appointed as Brilliant Awe-Inspiring General and the Military-cumCivilian General Administrator of the Dali Route 明威將軍大理路軍民總管, and Duan Qing, who was appointed as Realm Protecting Generalissimo and Pacification Commissioner and Commander-in-Chief of Dali, Jinchi and Other Places 鎮國上將軍 大理金齒等處宣慰使都元帥. According to Hayashi, these two titles represent a dual system of organisation, the first civilian and the second military.24 He also hypothesises that this division of power may date back to 1255/56 when the Mongol-Yuan assigned Duan Xingzhi to manage state affairs, and Duan Fu to lead Cuan and Bo armies. The third period started in 1331 and ended in 1381 with the collapse of the Mongol-Yuan regime in Yunnan. Due to disorder, and reduced capability, the provincial authorities lost control over Yunnan, and political power fell into the hands of the two Mongol imperial princes (蒙古宗王): the Yunnan King 雲南王 at Dali and the Liang Prince 梁王 at Kunming. The Duan family gained potency during these troubled times, and even styled themselves “the Duans of the Great Houli Kingdom 大後理国”.25 They stood united in their collaboration with the Mongol-Yuan until power struggles erupted within the Duan, widening fissures among family members during the late 1320s; the assassination of Duan Gong 段功 (incumbent 1345-1366) by the Liang Prince in Kunming eventually caused the entire family to embrace an anti-Mongol-Yuan stance (Hayashi, 1996, 9-13; 28). Restoration after 1255 authenticated Duan family governance over proto-Tai/ Tai ethnic groups, known as Jinchi 金齒 (literally, “golden teeth”) and Baiyi 百 夷/白衣/白夷 (Daniels, 2000. 54-58). The title, Pacification Commissioner and Commander-in-Chief of Dali, Jinchi and Other Places, manifested the historical associations of the Duan with the Mon-Khmer and proto-Tai/Tai. Duan Shi, the first General Administrator, governed Tengyue 騰越 (today’s Tengchong 騰衝), strategically located for controlling the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region (YS, 166. 3910; Fang, 2001, 8). Although Mongols, such as Hülegü (Hugechi 忽哥赤), brother of Qubilai Qan, also oversaw the Jinchi area bordering Tengyue,26 the Mongol-Yuan relied heavily on the Duan to control the Jinchi / Baiyi. The mobilisation of Bo and Cuan forces to support the wars against the Jinchi / Baiyi, sometime between 8 November and Hayashi (1996), pp. 9-13. The civilian title was Military-cum-Civilian General Administrator of the Dali Route 大理路軍 民総管, Assistant Grand Councillor 参政 and Administrator 平章 in the Branch Secretariat while the military title was that of a Pacification Commissioner. 25 Based on Hayashi’s written comments mentioned above. 26 Qubilai Qan assigned his brother, Hülegü (Hugechi 忽哥赤), the King of Yunnan, to take charge of Dali, Shanchan, Chahanzhang 茶罕章 and Chituge’er 赤禿哥兒 on 15 October 1267 (Zhiyuan 至元 4/9/gengxu). Chahanzhang refers to the white barbarians, or Baiman 白蠻, on both sides of the Jinsha river 金沙江 in north-west Yunnan, see Fang Guoyu (1987), pp. 788–790. Chituge’er refers to the spirit barbarians 鬼蠻, or black barbarians wuman 烏蠻, in eastern Yunnan and western Guizhou, see Fang Guoyu (1987), pp. 791–793. 23 24

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6 December 1276 (Zhiyuan 13/10) verifies the role played by the Duan. This campaign resulted in the capture of 40,000 households, the submission of 109 forts (zhai 砦) of the Heni 和泥 (ancestors of today’s Hani), and the surrender of the native official, Pusi 匍思, and others (Su Tianjue, ed. 1987. 41: 46b, 1367–529). Deployment of Duanled indigenous armies mitigated aggression by Mon-Khmer and Jinchi / Baiyi on the thoroughfares leading to the Indian ocean. Before the conquest, the Dali court controlled leaders in frontier areas through a feudatory system of pledged alliances, which resembled “the halter and bridle policy (jimi zhengce 羈縻政策)” of the Tang and Song periods. For 317 years, twenty-two Dali Kings ruled over an assortment of ethnic groups: Baiman 白蠻, Wuman 烏蠻, Han 漢 人, Mon-Khmer, Jinchi/ Baiyi, and others. They assigned elite noble Baiman families, such as the Duan, the Gao 高, the Yang 楊 and the Dong 董, to oversee people at the southern periphery, and permitted the hereditary transfer of appanages to descendants (Fang. 2015. 485–497). For instance, Gao Shengtai 高升泰, who wielded political power during the late 11th century, stationed family members at vital points along the communication routes in western Yunnan, and some descendants even held appointments until the arrival of the Mongol-Yuan. He assigned his nephew, Gao Mingliang 高明 量, to build a city at Weichu 威楚 (today’s Chuxiong 楚雄), and this place remained under family control until the time of Gao Changshou 高長壽.27 In addition, the Gao family must have governed Tengyue, on the communication route to Mian and India, because Gao Jiu 高救 administered it in 1255 (YS, 61.1480). By controlling strategic positions, the Dali kingdom dominated local leaders on a north-south axis down to the Upper Ayeyarwaddy in the west and to the Upper Mekong in the east. The Mongol-Yuan laid claim to this area by utilising the political authority of the Duan and their associations with indigenous rulers cultivated over generations through the elite noble families assigned to oversee them. Duan experience in managing the territory that overlapped with Mian (Pagan) controlled enclaves scattered along the banks of the Ayeyarwaddy river proved invaluable to the Mongol-Yuan. The monetary historian Kuroda Akinobu 黑田明伸 suggested that the Mongol-Yuan advance into Pagan territory derived from their desire to connect Yunnan with the Indian Ocean. He argued that Qubilai Qan’s desire to create “a thoroughfare for an expansion of trade with Burma and India” by opening trade routes from Yunnan to the Bay of Bengal, constituted a part of the Mongol-Yuan grand scheme to expedite the circulation of silver at the upper levels of the economy over the entirety of Eurasia (Kuroda, 2009, 253~254; Rossabi, 1994, 418). Kuroda tabled evidence to demonstrate that economic links between Yunnan and the Bay of Bengal served as a medium for the inflow of silver into China. First, he points to the usage of cowries from the Maldive islands as currency in Yunnan as proof of strong economic connections between Yunnan and Bengal, 1330-1350.28 Second, he interprets the establishment of an administrative unit with an unwieldy title, Chief Military Command of the YS, 61.1460. Gao Zhisheng 高智昇dispatched his grandson Gao Dahui 高大惠 to administer Beisheng Prefecture 北勝府, see YS, 61.1464. 28 Kuroda (2009), pp. 253-254 hypothesised that Sylhet, which lay on the contemporary eastern frontier of Muslim rulers in Bengal, functioned as the gateway to Yunnan. 27

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Pacification Commission of Pinya and Other Places with Supervisorate-in-Chief Attached (Bangya Dengchu Xuanweisi Duyuanshuaifu Bing Zongguan Fu 邦牙 等處宣慰司都元帥府並總管府) at Pinya in Upper Burma on 18 January 1339 (Zhiyuan 4/12/wuxu) as facilitating the flow of silver from China to India, via Burma, from 1339 to the early 1360s.29 Experience, accumulated over generations by the Duan, would have aided the setting up of administrative offices in these areas. Motives for mobilising the political resources of the Duan may also have stemmed, in part, from Mongol-Yuan concerns about potential threats to Yunnan from the south. For the Duan, restoration signified more than mere titular restitution. The Gao family served as the Ministers of State (xiangguo 相國), and wielded considerable political clout from the early years of the Dali Kingdom period; their grip on administration constrained the Duan.30 In fact, their influence grew so immense that contemporaries referred to them as “Gao, the masters of the state 高國主”. By appointing the Duan to the highest office in western Yunnan, the MongolYuan clearly recognised them as the paramount local leaders, superior in rank to their adversaries, the Gao family. The Duan clearly emerged from the conquest as the undisputed heirs to the legacy of the Dali kingdom. This emboldened the second last head of the Duan Family General Administrator regime, Duan Bao 段 寶 (incumbent 1366-1381), to request the invading Ming officials to recognise them as a dynasty named the Latter Li Kingdom 後理國 (Hayashi, 1996. 28). The investiture of Duan Shi as the first General Administrator in 1261 was important because it restored prestige to the family name, confirmed their legitimacy, and augmented their authority in local communities. The Mongol-Yuan sorely needed Duan authority to enhance the administration of local peoples along the thoroughfares leading to the Indian ocean. The Mongol-Yuan system of governance divided Yunnan into Circuits (dao 道), Routes (lu 路), Subprefectures (zhou 州) and Counties (xian 縣); they appointed local leaders as native officials in newly conquered areas to head Pacification Offices (xuanweisi 宣慰司) and Routes (lu 路).31 They assigned daruyaci (dalu huachi 達魯花赤) to oversee local YS.846. Kuroda is mistaken in locating Pinya in the Shan states. He noted that the stream of silver ceased with the “decay of Shan rule in Burma, and the collapse of the Mongol empire in China”. Kuroda (2009), pp. 255-256, surmised that the development of the Burma trade route through military means in 1338, together with the acquisition of stored silver from the Southern Song in 1276, explain the increase in silver during the late 13th and the first half of the 14th century. 30 For instance, a stele, dated 8 May 1376, recorded that during the pre-Mongol-Yuan period: “due to the distinguished meritorious service rendered by the Gao, [the Duan] appointed their descendants to prefectures, commanderies, sub-prefectures, and counties (fujun zhouxian 府郡州 縣), and they built all the great monasteries on famous scenic mountains (mingshan dacha 名山大 剎)”, see “Chongjian Yangpai Xingbao si xuzhi changzhu ji 重建陽派興寶寺續置常住記”, dated 8 May 1376 (Xuanguang 宣光6 丙辰/ 4/guimao), DCJP, vol. 10, p. 8. 31 YS, 91.2308 recorded: “The Pacification Commissions 宣慰司 are in charge of military and civilian matters, and are divided into Circuits (dao 道) for supervising commanderies and counties (junxian 郡縣). When the Secretariat 行省 issues administrative directives, they convey them to subordinate units, and when commanderies and counties have requests they report them to the 29

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leaders, and stationed Mongol troops to ensure tighter control.32 We know that local leaders, traditionally owing fealty to the Dali Kingdom from Dali down to the Upper Ayeyarwaddy, still recognised Duan overlordship, even after the conquest. Jinchi/ Baiyi envoys to the Mongol-Yuan Court in 1261 explained their political affiliation as “subordinate to the six zhao (liuzhao 六詔)”, or Dali kingdom, thus testifying to current allegiance to the Duan (Wang, 1498, 779; Daniels, 2000, 72). Mongol-Yuan reliance on the Duan recognised the historical connections of their forebears with local leaders. This arrangement facilitated the mobilisation of local troops in military campaigns against the Mian; it enabled the Mongol-Yuan to muster troops and gather provisions while on the march. Joint administration by Mongol-Yuan and the Duan laid the foundations for the thrust south towards the Indian ocean.

Kang family males serving the Duan The case of Kang Min provides an example of the Duan family providing personnel to staff native offices in Tai and Mon-Khmer polities at the margins of Mongol-Yuan control. Although written for Kang Min’s great grandson, Kang Haoqian, who was recruited by the Ming dynasty sometime after 1394, the Inscription recounted family history since Kang Min’s settlement in Zhaozhou, c. 1341. It enhances our understanding of Mongol-Yuan management of native officials in Yunnan precisely because it narrated official service rendered by three successive generations of Kang males. The translation of the official careers of Kang Min and three male descendants, based on my amended text of the Inscription, follows: The Instructor Mr. Kang, was posthumously bestowed the style Haoqian 好謙. His great grandfather, Kang Min, hailed from Gongchang 鞏昌 in Shaanxi.33 He arrived in Dali [as a person in] embroidered uniform (xiuyi 繡衣) in the southern campaign at the beginning of the Zhizheng reign period during the former Yuan, and soon settled at Yanpingyin, on land conferred by the Duan family. He was assigned the “nominal office of Pacifier 宣慰名職” in the Babai Pacification Secretariat. When military issues arise on the frontiers, they double as Chief Military Commands (Du Yuanshuai Fu 都元帥府), or merely serve as Military Commands (Yuanshuai Fu元帥府).” 32 Endicott-West (1989). pp. 44–63 emphasised the fragmentation and disorganisation that daruyaci brought to civil administration. 33 Gongchang Prefecture 鞏昌府 was under the jurisdiction of Shaanxi Province during the Yuan and Ming dynasties, see Tan (1982), pp. 17–18 & pp. 56–60. It came under the jurisdiction of Gansu province during the Qing. According to the “Stele Recording the genealogy of the pedigree of the Kang family (Kang shi diefu shixi jilue beiji 康氏牒譜世系紀略碑記)” dated 1-29 October 1864 (Tongzhi 同治 3/9), Kang Min was “originally a person from Shaanxi who was ordered to come to pacify the Duan Family, and he was assigned the rank of Pacification Commissioner for his meritorious service , see DFGJ, pp. 210–211, for the text of this stele. The claim that the Mongol-Yuan sent Kang Min to pacify the Duan family is based on documentation provided by a descendent in the 19th century, but it is not substantiated by the Inscription of 1461. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Office; he assumed duty in winter, and returned [before] summer to avoid vapours and miasmas. His wife, surnamed Yang 楊氏, bore two sons: Boren 伯仁 and Bohui 伯惠. Boren was assigned Confucian duties (ruzhi 儒職), educating and tutoring the male offspring of the Duan family. Bo Hui served as the Record Keeper (zhupu 主簿) of Qingdian county 慶甸縣, now renamed Shunning 順寧. Boren’s wife, surnamed Li 李氏, bore two sons named Zhongyi 仲義 and Mengli孟禮, and a daughter named Miaoxiu 妙秀. Zhongyi was appointed as the Administrative Clerk (zhishi知事) of the Tengchong Route 騰衝路, and Mengli served as a Military Brigade Commander.34 The daughter, Miaoxiu, married Wang Zhongren 王仲仁, a Company Commander (Baifuzhang百夫長), and today their descendant holds the office of Centurion Commander (Baihu 百戶) of the Battalion (Qianhusuo千 戶所) at Taihe太和 [county in Dali prefecture]. Zhongyi’s wife, surnamed Yang 楊氏, bore their first son named Haoqian, a second son named Yuchenghai 榆城海, and six daughters named Huan 桓, Gui 貴, Man 滿, Xi 息, Shou 壽, and Jin 錦. They all married into magnate families, and some of [their husbands] were assigned duties as District Governors (xianyin 縣 尹) and to assist with granaries (zuolin 佐廪). Pure and sincere by nature, Haoqian studied diligently from an early age. When our sage dynasty fortuitously recovered Yunnan, it united all under heaven, and widely sought men of talent. In Hongwu jiaxu [1394], the Assistant prefect (tongpan 通判) of Dali prefecture, Zhao Yanliang 趙彥良 nominated him as a classicist (mingjing 明經), and sent him to the Ministry. He passed examinations at the Hanlin Academy, and apart from serving as an Assistant Instructor (xundao 訓導) at the Zhaozhou Confucian School in the prefecture, he attained distinction three times and returned to resume his duties at the School …. 教諭康公諱賜字好謙。先祖康旻，乃陝西鞏35昌人氏。前元至正年始，以 繡衣征南至大理遂36居鴈平音37，段氏賜地, 授以八百宣慰司，宣慰

名職。因避煙瘴, 冬任夏回。38 室娶楊氏，生男伯仁，伯惠。伯仁 授以儒職，教授訓誨段氏子弟。伯惠授慶甸縣主簿，今改順寧是 也。伯仁娶39李氏，生男曰仲義，曰孟禮，女曰妙秀。仲義任騰衝 Junzhi Wanhu 軍職萬戶 may be an error for Junmin Wanhufu 軍民萬戶府, or Tribal Commander. Jin 晉 in the stele, but gong 鞏 in DFGJ and in Ma Cunzhao’s c. 2004 transcription held by Ma Jianxiong 馬健雄 at HKUST. 36 Sui 遂 in the stele and in the c. 2004 transcription, but zhu 逐 in DFGJ. 37 Yan pingzhang 焉平章 in the stele. Ma Cunzhao copied the three characters as yanpingyin 鴈 （雁）平音 in his c. 2004 transcription. At the time of my first visit on 22 June 2015, Ma Cunzhao mentioned that in the ancient Bai language, yanpingyin means “flat land under the rocks”, and the place is now called da pingchang 大平場. DFGJ, p. 203, note 3 explained that the tract of land known as yanpingyin was held by the Duan family residing at “the prince’s city, the seat of power in Zhaozhou (Zhaozhou zhisuo xinju cheng 趙州治所信苴城)”, and it is for this reason that the text recorded its bestowal on Kang Min. 38 In the c. 2004 transcription, Ma Cunzhao gave ri 日. The stele standing now has hui 回. 39 Qu 娶 in the stele, but qu 取 in DFGJ. 34

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路知事，孟禮40授軍職萬戶。女妙秀嬪于百夫長王41仲仁，子孫見任 太和千戶所百戶。仲義娶楊氏，生男長曰好謙，次曰榆城海；生女 六人，曰桓，曰貴，曰滿,42 曰息，曰壽，曰錦，皆嬪巨族，或仕縣 尹43佐廪44之職。好謙天資純篤，早歲勤學。 幸際聖朝克復雲南，混一 區宇，旁求俊彥。洪武甲戌,45 大理府通判趙公彥良，以明經舉送赴部, 翰林院試中，除授本府趙州儒學訓導，三度46榮歸，復任本學。…. The Inscription testified that Kang Min along with three male descendants served as officials in Tai and Mon-Khmer polities under Mongol-Yuan administration. By documenting that members of this migrant family from North China served in polities at the southern edge of the Mongol-Yuan world, it verifies strong connections between their appointments and the Duan Family General Administrator regime. Important points include: First, Kang family success depended on Duan munificence. The Duan granted Kang Min land at their own power base in Zhaozhou, either within, or close to, the demesne of the Huazang temple 華藏寺, which remained associated with Duan religious and political authority during Mongol-Yuan times. The Huazang temple, stood in Zhihua Village 芝華村 until its destruction by the Ming army during the conquest of 1382, an act which itself is prime evidence of the obliteration of vestiges of Dali kingdom elite culture by the chauvinist turn of the Ming.47 Ma Cunzhao identified Snake mountain where Inscription was unearthed as part of the tract of land named Yanpingyin 鴈平音, originally bestowed on Kang Min by the Duan family. As a centre of Buddhism during the Dali Kingdom period, the Huazang temple was patronised by the Dong family 董姓, practitioners of Acharya Buddhism, who for generations had served Dali Kings as state ritualists (guoshi 國師).48 The Zhao 趙, the dominant family in Zhaozhou, maintained their own large temple, the Xiangguo temple 相國寺, located adjacent to Puhe 普和, the seat of Tianshui prefecture 天水郡 , the name for Zhaozhou during the Dali kingdom period.49 After the Li 礼 in the stele, but li 禮 in DFGJ. Zhu 主 in the stele, but wang 王 in DFGJ. 42 Man 滿 in the stele and DFGJ, but ye 澲in the c. 2004 transcription by Ma Cunzhao. 43 Yin 尹 in the stele and DFGJ, but li 里 in the c. 2004 transcription by Ma Cunzhao. 44 Lin 廪 in the stele, but wei 位 in the c. 2004 transcription by Ma Cunzhao and hu扈in DFGJ. 45 Xu 戌 in the stele and DFGJ, but wu 戊 in the c. 2004 transcription by Ma Cunzhao. 46 Du 度 in the stele, but qing 慶 in the c. 2004 transcription by Ma Cunzhao and DFGJ. 47 According to the stele, Zhaozhou Nanshan Da Facang Si Bei 趙州南山大法藏寺碑, written by Dong Xian 董賢 and dated 12 August 1421 (Yongle 19/7/15), Prince Duan Xiang 段信苴祥, magistrate (zhizhou 知州) of Zhaozhou, arranged for the deposit of the Qiantang yinzao Sancheng Dacang 錢唐印造三乘大藏 at the Huacang temple during the Yuan period. Construction of the Facang temple began in 1392 after the destruction of the Huacang temple c. 1382, see DFGJ, pp. 44–45. DFGJ gives 錢塘 for Qiantang, but the stele standing in the Facang temple at Beitangtian 北湯天 that I saw on 5 July 2016 has 錢唐. 48 The stele titled Dong Shi Benyin Tulue Xu 董氏本音圖略敍, dated 24 June – 3 July 1892 (Guangxu 光緒 18/6/shanghuan 上浣), chronicled the history of the Dong Family as state ritualists from the Nanzhao period to 1461, see DFGJ, pp. 94–99. 49 YS, 61.1481 recorded that during the Nanzhao period the name was Zhaozhou, but the Duan 40 41

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destruction of the temples patronised by the magnate Zhao and Dong families, the Ming converted the Bianzhi temple 遍知寺, located at the centr of the Zhaozhou basin, into a new religious centre.50 Place of residence reveals close ties between the Kangs and Duans. Second, government assignments for the four Kang males must have been arranged by the Duan. Kang Min’s second son, Bo Hui, served as the assistant magistrate of Qingdian county, and his eldest grandson, Zhongyi, served as the Administrative Clerk of the Tengchong Route. Qingdian was a powerful MonKhmer polity that only submitted to the Mongol-Yuan during the Taiding period (1324 to 1327), and at that time, Tengchong still remained uninhabited by Chinese garrison troops (they only arrived in the 15th century), so Bo Hui and Zhongyi both ministered to the needs of newly conquered areas with sizeable populaces of Mon-Khmer and other ethnic groups (Daniels, 2000, 60–63). His second grandson, Mengli, served as a Military Brigade Commander in an unspecified area, most likely with an indigenous population. Proficiency in written Chinese, a prerequisite for administrative communication, must have made Kang males attractive candidates for office. Third, one possible reason for the Duan favouring Kang Min may have been related to his status as a person “in embroidered uniform”. Many Northern Chinese families became genjiaoren 根腳人, or men associated with the Mongols through “huja’ar” (historical connections to descendants of Chinggis Qan) after surrendering to the Mongol-Yuan and participating in the conquest of the Jin dynasty (Wang, 2016, 207). If Kang Min’s “embroidered uniform” status included “huja’ar”, the Duan may have prioritised him in accordance with the Mongol custom of privileging genjiaoren in the recruitment of civil and military officials. Fourth, the Duan entrusted the education of their male offspring to Kang Min’s eldest son, Boren. This reveals deep bonds of affinity between the two families, and constitutes further evidence that literary proficiency proved an asset for the careers of Kang men. Fifth, the Inscription celebrated the marriages of Kang Min’s female descendants to distinguished men. It applauded the betrothal of Zhongyi’s six daughters into magnate families, even detailed the official positions of their husbands, and proudly noted that a descendant of Bo Ren’s eldest daughter currently served as the Centurion Commander of the Battalion at Taihe county, Dali. Early Ming tomb inscriptions in western Yunnan commonly recorded daughters and grand-daughters by name, and delighted in mentioning their matches with men of prominent families.51 Successful unions by female family members bespoke the glory and amplification of the Kang family changed the name to Tianshui prefecture during the Dali Kingdom period. 50 The stele, dated 14 August 1604 (Wanli 32/1/15) concerning the renovation of the Bianzhi temple 遍知寺, recorded that a monk, named Yinxuan 印玄, from the Gantong temple 感通寺 in Dali, rebuilt it during the early Ming. The Ming issued Yinxuan with a seal of office as a Sangha Official (sengguan yin 僧官印), see DFGJ, p. 244. 51 Numerous tomb inscriptions from 1416 (Yongle 14) until 1490 (Hongzhi 3) recorded marriages by daughters and grand-daughters to prominent men, see DCJP, Vol. 10, pp. 31-67. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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name, and reflected the extension of Kang connections beyond Zhaozhou. The careers of male and female descendants demonstrated how association with the Duan elevated the family status to the level of local luminaries within a few generations.

Dali and Yongchang as bases for the conquest of the Mian The Mongol-Yuan used Dali and Yongchang 永昌 as bases for launching campaigns against the plethora of large and small proto-Tai/Tai polities that blocked their advance to the Pagan kingdom and the Indian ocean. They launched small-scale campaigns against the Jinchi / Baiyi from 1254,52 and gradually tightened control over them after 1261, but local leaders thwarted them by blocking thoroughfares53 and, as already mentioned, Mongol-Yuan armies often had to rely on support from Duan-led Cuan and Bo forces. In addition, forests, precipitous mountains and the sub-tropical monsoon climate strained the capabilities of Mongol horsemen. In the upshot, the Mongol-Yuan did not succeed in establishing administrative offices in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region until over thirty years later (c. 1286); the process proceeded at a glacial pace.54 Thoroughfares doubled as supply lines, so the maintenance of safety on them was essential for securing provisions, guides and troops from the Duan and other local leaders.55 Closer supervision over the Jinchi / Baiyi by the Mongol-Yuan only became possible after the foundation of the Pacification Commission of the Jinchi and Other According to the Yuan History, they “continued conquering the Baiyi and other barbarians” immediately after the pacification of Dali in 1254, see YS, 61.1482. 53 YS, 210.4656. recorded that “Pu 蒲 Bandits blocked the roads” in Jinchi territory when officials were dispatched from Yunnan between 19 November and 18 December 1275 (Zhiyuan 12/11) to enquire after the Mongol envoy, from Yunnan sent to Mian, who failed to return. A leader with the surname Pu, residing in the area near Tagaung, was among those who surrendered to Nasir ed-Din sometime between 28 October and 26 November 1277 (Zhiyuan 14/10). YS, 210.4657 recorded the submission of “4,000 households under the native official Pu Zhe of Qula 曲蠟蒲折”. 54 Policies initiated c.1286 by the head of Yunnan province, Nasir ed-Din (Nasulading 納速剌丁), son of Qubilai Qan’s trusted Moslem Uighur minister, Sayyid Ejell (Saidianchi 賽典赤 (1211– 1279), aided the Mongol-Yuan to keep routes towards the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region passable, thereby facilitating their access through Jinchi territory. According to YS, 14.288, his policies to “establish postal relay routes in Yunnan (開雲南驛路)” and “relax prohibitions concerning roads and routes, and allow people to travel back and forth (弛道路之禁、通民往來)” were finally approved by imperial decree on 28 April 1286 (Zhiyuan 23/4/ gengzi) after his death. Nasir ed-Din (Nasulading 納速剌丁) replaced his father, Sayyid Ejell, as head of the Yunnan Branch Secretariat in 1280, rising to the position of Manager of Government Affairs (Pingzhang Zhengshi 平章政事) in 1284 , see YS, 125.3067. 55 An example of the Duan providing logistical support for the Mongol-Yuan campaigns against the Mian appeared in a tombstone inscription, Gu Dali Lu Chaiku Dashi Dong Yucheng Fu Muzhiming 故大理路差庫大使董踰城福墓誌銘 dated 10 July 1337 (Zhiyuan 至元 3/6/12). This stele recorded that superiors (shangsi 上司) appointed a man named Dong Fu 董福, from a magnate family closely connected to the Duan with a pedigree dating back to the Nanzhao kingdom, to take charge of storing provisions for the punitive forces dispatched against the Mian (probably in 1287/8) at Longwei guan 龍尾關 at Dali, and he even collected taxes and conscripted labour for them in areas west of the Jinchi 金齒迤西, see DCJP, Vol.10, p. 20. 52

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Places (Jinchi dengchu xuanfusi 金齒等處宣撫司) at Yongchang 永昌 in 1278.56 This marked the culmination of a train of events dating back to the establishment of the first Pacification Commission (anfu si 安撫司) at an unknown location in 1261, and the separation of the Jinchi and the Baiyi into two East and West Route Pacification Commissions (dong xi lianglu anfu si 東西兩路安撫司) in 1271. The Mongol-Yuan converted the West Route into the Jianning Route 建寧路 and the East Route into the Zhenkang Route 鎮康路 in 1275, before setting up the six Route Commands (Lu zongguanfu 路總管府) in 1278 to oversee thoroughfares traversing former Dali kingdom territory to the Upper Ayeyarwaddy (YS, 61.1482). To control newly conquered territories, the Mongol-Yuan frequently created Secretariats, which manifested strong military characteristics: some turned into permanent institutions, while others ended as transitory measures. The two Branch Secretariats inaugurated to vanquish the Mian were short-lived. The foundation date of the Branch Secretariat Inside the Mian (Mianzhong xingzhong shusheng 緬中行中書省) remains uncertain,57 but after moving into Mian territory (location unknown) on 21 May 1288, it only functioned for two years before closure on 18 August 1290.58 The Branch Secretariat for Conquering the Mian (Zheng Mian xingzhong shusheng 征緬行中書省) at Tagaung, lasted longer, for at least eighteen years, until 25 May 1303 (Dade 大德 7/5/ bingshen), when the army of 14,000 men returned to garrison in Yunnan (YS, 21.450–451; Luce, 1958. 163–164.). Despite it’s transitory existence, the Branch Secretariat for Conquering the Mian undoubtedly altered the balance of power in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region. Yongchang came under Mongol-Yuan administration in 1274 when they established a prefecture (zhou 州); this prefecture was upgraded to a superior prefecture (fu 府) in 1278. It was subordinate to the Dali Route 大理路, and administered one county (xian 縣), Yongping county 永平縣, located east of the Mekong river, see YS, 61.1480. Note that Nasir ed-Din personally commanded punitive expeditions to the Upper Ayeyarwaddy in 1277 and 1279. The Yuan History recorded that Nasir ed-Din led a mixed force of more than 3,840 Mongol 蒙古, Cuan 爨, Bo 僰 and Mosuo 摩些 troops through the Jinchi area to reach Koncan / Kaungzin (Jiangtou), where he subdued numerous stockades and polities owing fealty to Xi An 細安, the leader of the Shenrou Route 深 蹂酋首, sometime between 28 October and 26 November 1277 (Zhiyuan 14 tenth month), see YS, 210.4657. In 1279 (Zhiyuan 16), Nasir ed-Din “shifted his forces to Dali, and resisted (di 抵) the Jinchi, Pu 蒲, Piao 驃, Qula 曲蠟 and the Mian Kingdom 缅國 with the army. He summoned and pacified 300 barbarian villages, registered 120,200 households, fixed land taxes (zufu 租賦), set up post relay stages and garrison troops, and returned with twelve tame elephants which he submitted as tribute”, see the YS, 125.3067. 57 Although the foundation dates remain unclear, the Yuan History confirms the existence of both Branch Secretariats. Wade (2009), pp. 31-32, pointed this out and cited YS, 210.4659. The first reference to the assignment of officials to the Mianzhong Branch Secretariat appeared in an entry for 3 April 1286 (Zhiyuan 23/2/ jiachen) in YS, 14.286, which recorded appointments as Left Grand Councillor (Zuo chengxiang 左丞相), Assistant Administrator (Canzhi shengshi 參知政事) and an Assistant Branch Secretariat (Qian xing zhongshu sheng shi 僉行中書省事). 58 The YS, 15.311 recorded: Imperial orders were issued “for setting up the Branch Secretariat inside Mian (Mianzhong 緬中 lit. inside Mian) under the control of the King of Yunnan to whom they had to report on 21 May 1288 (Zhiyuan 25/4/ jiaxu)”. According to the YS, 16.338: “the Branch Secretariat Inside Mian was abolished on 18 August 1290 (Zhiyuan 27/7/ guichou)”. 56

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Mongol-Yuan / Pagan wars and the Upper Ayeyarwaddy For polities in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region, 1277–1303 were troubled and difficult years. The entire period was blighted by intense political competition between the Mongol-Yuan and the Mian. Mongol-Yuan envoys first visited the Court at Pagan to demand submission in 1271, and accompanied Mian emissaries back to Yunnan sometime between 11 May and 8 June in the same year (YS, 210.4655). This occurred roughly seventeen years after Qubilai Qan toppled the Dali Kingdom. The very title of the Branch Secretariat, “Conquering the Mian (Zheng Mian 征緬)”, underscored the strong commitment of the Mongol-Yuan to invade the Pagan kingdom, the prominent power on the Ayeyarwaddy river, to secure safe passage to the Bay of Bengal. The Mongol-Yuan waged two bloody wars with the Mian: the first in 1287/8 precipitated the decline of the Pagan dynasty, and the second from late January to early April 1301 ended as a debacle: Ava dynasty defenders repelled the invading MongolYuan forces.59 The commanders leading the defence of Ava in 1301 were ethnic Tai from central Burma, known to history as the Shan brothers. After the failure of the expeditionary force against Babai Xifu in early April 1303, Temür Qan (Chengzong 成宗, r. 1294–1307) decided to forsake Tagaung. According to Luce, the abandonment of Tagaung in April/May 1303 marked “the final triumph” for Ava because it loosened Mongol-Yuan control over the Upper Ayeyarwaddy.60 It was the military prowess of the Tai in Central Burma and northern Thailand that compelled Mongol-Yuan forces to withdraw.

Mongol-Yuan impact on polities at Tagaung, 1286–130361 Tagaung was a place-name of quite wide application. Lying south of the junction of the Ayeyarwaddy and Maaw2 mrvB (Shweli) rivers, it was conveniently located for shipping goods south, and offered excellent access to the Jinchi / Baiyi area (Moore. 2007, 188). Luce suggested that it probably controlled territory extending north to Koncan / Kaungzin and south to Nga Singu (Chinese: Anzheng Guo 安正國 /Azhengu 阿真谷) in the northern Mandalay district.62 If so, Tagaung would have administered three, or four, of the so-called “five walled cities inside the Mian (Mianzhong wucheng 緬中五城)” scattered along the Ayeyarwaddy. It certainly administered Koncan / Kaungzin, Tagaung, Male (Chinese: Malai 馬來), and possibly Nga Singu.63 Hsiao (1994), p. 501, interpreted the Mongol campaign against the Mian and Babai Xifu in 1301-3 during the reign of Temür Qan as not being for conquest, but for the punishment of the Mian for dethroning a king who had recognised Mongol-Yuan suzerainty, and Babai Xifu for their rapid expansion. 60 Luce (1958), pp. 150–164, related these events based on Chinese and Burmese sources. 61 I follow the Romanization system for Tai words set out in Shintani (2000), and use modern Dehong font to write Tai words for the Upper Ayeyarwaddy and Dehong areas. 62 Luce (1959), p. 59, wrote that Tagaung extended from Male on the west bank of the Ayeyarwaddy in Shwebo district down to Ngasingu in the north of Mandalay district. 63 Shao (2002), 42: 46a, p. 641, and Zhang (1995), 46, p. 1191, recorded the “five walled cities inside the Mian”. According to the 1510 edition of the Yunnan Gazetteer, the five cities in the 59

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The year 1283 was an annus mirabilis for the Mongol-Yuan. They conquered the Mian city of Koncan / Kaungzin between 21 November and 19 December (Zhiyuan 20/11), killing over 10,000 people in the process. Next, Mongol-Yuan forces proceeded to attack the Tagaung city of the Kantū 建都太公城, leaving the Commander-in-Chief 都元帥, Yuan Shian 袁世安, to guard Koncan / Kaungzin with its grain and other provisions 糧餉 (YS, 210.4658). Yehandijin 也罕的斤, Assistant Administrator 參 知政事 of Yunnan, attacked “the various rebellious barbarians 諸叛蠻” occupying Tagaung in retaliation for murdering monk emissaries sent to negotiate. Kantū, and the twelve cities of Jinchi and others (Jinchi deng shier cheng 金齒等十二城) eventually capitulated. Officials reported vanquishing the Kantū King 建都王, Wumeng 烏蒙, and twelve seats of the Jinchi to Qubilai Qan on 5 February 1284 (Zhiyuan 21/1/dingmao).64 This train of events bore great significance for proto-Tai/Tai polities. First, the conquest terminated Mian domination of the region. Tactically situated, Tagaung, known in Tai Chronicles as Weng2 Taa4 Köng1 venBdr gwnB (literally “drum ferry city”) lay west of two important Tai polities, Mäng2 Mit6 mQnB mid (Chinese: Mengmi 蒙密65) and Mogok (Tay: Mäng2 Kӧng2 mQnB gwnB Chinese: Meng Gong 孟拱). Tai scholars in Dehong have interpreted the term “drum ferry” to signify a river crossing point for the accumulation [of goods] (Dehongzhou daixue xuehui, 2005. 45). Its location facilitated trade with India via land routes connecting points west, and to the Indian ocean via the Ayeyarwaddy. Luce argued that Tagaung functioned as the centre of the Kantū (Kadu, Old Burmese Kantū, Chinese: Jiandu 建都) polity, which together with the Sak polity, once extended west to the Manipur Valley. Evidence for domination by Pagan comes from the Dhammarājaka inscription of 1196, which recorded that King Narapatisithu (1173-1210) claimed to rule as far north as Takon (Tagaung) and the fort of Na-chon-khyam (Ngahsaungchan, near Bhamo). Luce interpreted this to indicate that “the Kadus had, partially at least, submitted” to Pagan by 1196. The first appearance of the toponym, Koncan (Kaungzin), in inscriptions in 1236 led Luce to conclude that Burmese Mahāsaman, or governors, maintained firm control “down to Dec 9th 1283 when the Mongol-Yuan captured Koncan, including doubtless Na-chon-khyam mruiw or fortress” (Luce, 1959, 57-60; Luce, 1985, 38-46). The Yuan History corroborated his view; “though embracing the desire, Jiandu was unable to submit because the Mian controlled them” (YS, 13.263). The Mongol-Yuan conquest of 1283 ended over eighty years of overlordship by Mian. Second, the conquest of Koncan / Kaungzin and the foundation of the Branch Secretariat for Conquering the Mian at Tagaung ruined the old Kadu polity beyond repair. The Yuan History recorded that the Kadu polity controlled the “twelve seats of the Jinchi”, so it must have encompassed a sizeable proto-Tai population. Luce, former territory of the Miandian Military and Civilian Pacification Commissioner Office 緬甸軍 民宣慰使司 included Pagan [Pukam] (Pugan guo 蒲甘國) as well as “Koncan / Kaungzin 江頭, Tagaung 太公, Male 馬采, and Anzheng guo 安正國”, see Peng Gang & Zhou Jifeng (1990), pp. 577-578. 64 YS, 133.3227 and YS, 13.263. 65 This Chinese term appeared in the Baiyiguan Laiwen 百夷館來文No. 15, see Izui (1949), pp. 276-277. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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interpreted its annihilation as paving the way for proto-Tai (Jinchi / Baiyi) migration, thereby upsetting the power balance among non-Mian ethnic groups. In his own words, “the Shan torrent which swept westwards, drove the Chins from their old homes in the Chindwin valley (“Hole of the Chins”) back into the western hills” (Luce, 1958, 136). Third, the Mongol-Yuan opened up three major communication routes to mainland Southeast Asia, all radiating out from the Jinchi stronghold at Yongchang永昌, known as Wan2 Sang1 vNBsnC in Tai Chronicles.66 It had two toponyms in Yuan times: Jinchi and Yongchang. According to Marco Polo, Jinchi denoted the “province called Zardandan”, a Persian word meaning “gold teeth”, with its capital at Vochan, or Yongchang (Yule 2012, 204). Table 1 lists polities located along three thoroughfares linking Yongchang and Tagaung. The Tai polity of Mäng2 Khä2 mQnBhQB emerged from ① Rouyuan Route, and straddling the Salween river, it controlled the vital crossing at the Lujiang 潞江 ferry. The first thoroughfare passed through today’s Dehong 德宏 region, after crossing the Salween at ①. Travellers traversed Longling County 龍陵縣 (Tay: Mäng2 Long4 mQnBlon) and then entered the Shan plateau from either Mangshi 芒市 (Tay: Mäng2 Khön1 mQnBhwNC), Zhefang 遮放 (Tay: Ce4 Faang1 ze frnC), Wanding 畹町(Tay: Wan2 Teng4 vNBden or the Ruili 瑞麗 basin (Tay: Mäng2 Maaw2 mQnBmrvB) before reaching the Ayeyarwaddy river. Polities located along this path included ② Mangshi Route, ⑤ Pingmian Route, ⑥ Luchuan Route, and ⑨ Tianbuma. On the second itinerary, travellers arrived at Tengchong 騰衝 (Tay: Mäng2 Mën2 mQnBmxNB B: Momien) after crossing the Salween and heading west. They reached Bhamo (Tay: Maan5 Mo3 mrNA mOE ) on the Ayeyarwaddy from Tengchong, by either continuing directly west via ④ Zhenxi Route, or by turning south and passing through Lianghe 梁河 (Tay: Mäng2 Ti2 mQnBdiB；Chinese: Nandian 南甸), Yingjiang 盈江 (Tay: Mäng2 Naa5 mQnBNrA; Chinese: Gan’ai 干崖). Polities located along this route included Nandian, ⑪ Gan’e, ⑥ Luchuan Route and ⑦ Nanshan. The Mongol-Yuan set out to subjugate polities along these thoroughfares sometime between 28 April and 26 May 1275 (Zhiyuan 12/4), when they learnt that the city of Koncan / Kaungzin could be accessed from the second and third thoroughfares by passing through Tianbuma 天部 馬/天歩馬, Piaodian 驃甸 and the territory of A Guo 阿郭.67 The third was the eastern thoroughfare via ③ Zhenkang Route, that passed southward through present day Yongde County 永德縣, and Maliba 麻栗壩 in the Shan State, thence to Laos and Northern Thailand by turning east, or to the Ayeyarwaddy river, by crossing the Salween and traversing the polity of Sën1wi2 sxNAviC (Hsenwi; Chinese: Mubang木邦, B: Theinni).

The Baiyiguan Zazi 百夷館雜字, a Sino-Tay vocabulary of circa the late 16th century, listed Wan2 Sang1 as no. 65 wang c’ang 挽唱, giving the Chinese equivalent as Jinchi 金齒, see Izui (1949), 219. Wan2 vNB means “day”, or “the sun”, and sang1 snC means “what”, so this toponym literally means “what day?” 67 YS, 210.4656. The territory of A Guo probably included Nandian and ⑪ Gan’e. 66

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Jinchi / Baiyi polities c. 1260 –1303 A patchwork of quarrelsome, variously sized polities dotted the landscape from Yongchang down to Tagaung. The Mongol-Yuan went to great lengths to avoid overstepping supply lines southward by appointing local leaders as native officials. But allegiances pledged by Jinchi and Baiyi leaders, as early as 1260, by no means guaranteed prolonged peace. They attacked Mian and Mongol-Yuan alike, demonstrating that Jinchi and Baiyi sometimes briefly stopped warring among themselves to define a common enemy.68 Mon-Khmer speakers, known as Pu 蒲 bandits, also blocked roads (Wade, 2009, 34.). Security could not always be guaranteed, and thoroughfares from Yongchang to Tagaung were fraught with danger. The Mongol-Yuan had to keep them open by coercion. In this section, I identify the pro-Tai and Tai polities that lined the communication routes from Yongchang to Tagaung. Table 1 lists a total of eleven polities, and a breakdown by dominant ethnicity reveals four Jinchi, six Baiyi, and one unidentified polity. The Mongol-Yuan organised dominant local leaders and their regimes into Route Commands (lu 路), and I interpret Route Commands as representing larger polities. The Jinchi controlled three of the six Route Commands set up in 1276: ① Rouyuan Route (Bo Barbarian), ② Mangshi Route (Mangshi Barbarian), and ③ Zhenkang Route (Black Bo Barbarian). Suzerainty over the fourth Jinchi polity, ⑪ Gan’e 干額,69 became a bone of contention between the Mongol-Yuan and the Mian. Although the Jinchi polities of Gan’e and Nandian were originally feudatory to Mian, the native official of Gan’e, A He 阿禾, later switched allegiance to the Mongol-Yuan. Another Jinchi leader named A Bi 阿必, who guided the Mongol-Yuan envoy to Mian sometime between 31 March and 28 April 1272 (Zhiyuan 至元9/3 ), followed in his footsteps. Outraged by these acts of infidelity, the Mian retaliated by plundering Nandian in 1276, and even attacked A He with the intention of building stockades (zhai 寨) between Tengchong and Yongchang sometime between 5 April and 4 May 1277 (Zhiyuan 14/3).70 Baiyi dominated a total of six polities. Four fell under three of the Six Routes and one auxiliary territory (④ Zhenxi Route, ⑤ Pingmian Route, and ⑥ Luchuan Route, and ⑦ Nanshan). They shared ⑦ with the Echang 峨昌 (today’s Achang 阿 昌, Burmese: Maingtha), whom Luce identified as proto-Burmese speakers dwelling YS, 210,4659 recorded that plundering by the Jinchi prevented Mian envoys, dispatched by the three Shan Brothers between 2–30 April 1299 (Dade 3/ 3), from presenting gold and silk 金幣 to the Mongol-Yuan court. Also, Jinchi and Baiyi waylaid and obstructed the Mongol-Yuan army retreating from its abortive attack on Myinzaing in 1301. Casualties ran so high that Temür Qan ordered a punitive expedition against them (YS, 20.436–437). 69 The original has Qian’e 千額, but, as Wade (2009), p. 25, pointed out, qian must be mistake for gan干. 70 Shiratori (1950), pp. 70-75. According to YS, 210.4656–4657, the Mongol-Yuan court ordered the subjugation of intractable Pu 蒲, Piao 驃, Achang 阿昌 and Jinchi 金齒 tribes around Tengyue. The force of 700 soldiers, stationed at Nandian 南甸, were outnumbered by the Mian, whose army had 40,000 to 50,000 men, 800 elephants and 10,000 horses. 68

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Table 1 Polities Located Between Yongchang and Tagaung, 1260~1303 Polity Name

Ethnicity

Year of Submission

Year of Location and TerAppointritory ment

①

Rouyuan Route 柔 遠路

Bo Barbarians 僰人蠻

Abasi 阿八思 visited Yuan Court in 1260 (Zhongtong 中統1)

1276 (Zhiyuan 至 元 13)

②

Mangshi Route 茫 施路

Mangshi Barbarians　 茫施蠻

1260 (Zhongtong 1)

1276 (Zhiyuan 至 元 13)

③

Zhenkang Route 鎮 康路

Occupied by Black Bo Barbarians 黑 僰人蠻 蠻

1260 (Zhongtong 1)

1276 (Zhiyuan 至 元 13)

④

Zhenxi Route 鎮 西路

Occupied by Baiyi barbarians 白夷蠻.

1260 (Zhongtong 1)

1276 (Zhiyuan 至 元 13)

⑤

Pingmian Route 平 緬路

Ocuppied by Baiyi 白夷.

1260 (Zhongtong 1)

1276 (Zhiyuan 至 元 13)

Lies South of Yongchang. Territory: Lujiang 潞 江, Puping jian 普 坪瞼, Shenjian Bozhai 申瞼僰蠻 寨, Wumo ping 烏 摩坪 Lies South of Rouyuan Route 柔遠路 west of the Lu Jiang 瀘江 (Salween River). Territory; Numou 怒謀, Da Kushan 大枯睒 and Xiao Kushan 小枯睒. Lies South of Rouyuan Route 柔 遠路 west of the Lan Jiang 蘭江 (Mekong River). Territory;　Shishan 石睒 Lies directly west of Rouyuan Route 柔遠路 and adjoins Luchuan 麓川on its eastern side. Territory;　Yulaishan 于賴睒 and Qulan shan渠瀾睒 To the north it is close to Rouyuan Route 柔遠路. Territory: Piaoshan 驃睒, Luobi Sizhuang羅必四庄, Xiao Shamonong 小沙摩弄, and Piaoshantou 驃睒 頭

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Source YS, 61. 1482.

YS, 61. 1482.

YS, 61. 1482~3.

YS, 61. 1483.

YS, 6. 1483.

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Ethnicity

⑥

Luchuan Route 麓 川路

All territory occupied by Baiyi 白夷

1260 (Zhongtong 1)

1276 (Zhiyuan 至 元 13)

⑦

Nanshan 南睒

Occupied by the Baiyi 百夷 and Echang 峨昌.

Early Yuan

1278 (Zhiyuan 至 元 15)

⑧

Piaodian 驃甸

⑨

Year of Submission

Year of Location and TerAppointritory ment

Polity Name

Lies west1 of Mangshi Route 茫施路Territory: Dabumang 大布茫, Shantou Fu Sai 睒 頭附賽, Shanzhong Danji 睒中彈吉, Shanwei Fulupei 睒 尾福祿培 Lies northwest of Zhenxi Route 鎮西 路 Territory: Asai Shan 阿賽睒, and Wuzhen Shan 午 眞睒,

According to Luce Pyū (Piao 驃)2 Tianbuma According to 天部馬/天 Wade p. 25,3 歩馬 probably Baiyi 白夷

⑩

Mang Nai Dian 忙 乃甸

Daise, 䚟塞 (T:Tai2 Sä1 or Tiger Tai, headman of the Baiyi) 白 衣頭目䚟塞

⑪

Gan’e 干 額 (original has qian 千 which is a mistake for gan 干)

CommanderGeneral of Gan’e under the Jinchi 金齒 千額總管

Notes

Source YS, 61. 1483.

YS, 61. 1483.

YS, 210. 4656. YS, 210. 4656 gives 天 歩馬, while Zheng Mian Lu gives 天 部馬 Wade (2009), p.37. Original in YS, 210. 4658. Wade (2009), p. 25.

The original has “east”, but I follow Luce (1958) p.179, endnote 41 in considering it as a mistake for “west”. Luce (1958), p. 128, endnote 29. 3 Wade (2009), pp. 17-49. 1 2

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in the mid-Taiping 太平 (Da Yingjiang 大盈江) river area.71 Polity ⑨Tianbuma was located near Nam6 Kham2 NmV hmB (Chinese: Nankan 南坎) in the Mäng2 Maaw2 basin,72 on the thoroughfare that led to Koncan / Kaungzin; it may have been ruled by Baiyi. The Baiyi polity ⑩ Mang Nai Dian was ruled by a leader named Tai2 Sä1 daBsQC (Chinese: Daise 䚟塞, literally Tiger [lineage] Tai); there is no evidence indicating genealogical connection with the Sä1 (tiger) dynasty of Mäng2 Maaw2 . Sometime between 28 November and 26 December 1285 (Zhiyuan 22/11), Tai2 Sä1 blocked the route from Tagaung, denying free passage to the senior salt-well official Abi lixiang 阿必立相 , an envoy dispatched by the Mian King to submit tribute 納 款 to the Mongol-Yuan (YS, 210.4658; Wade. 2009, 37). Evidently, Tai2 Sä1 ran a polity near this strategically located city by the 1280s, and he aligned his polity with the Mongol-Yuan sometime between 21 November and 19 December 1283 (Zhiyuan 20/11) after the conquest of Koncan / Kaungzin (YS, 210.4658). The Mongol-Yuan trusted Mang Nai Dian as sufficiently loyal to utilise it as a military base in February 1287.73

The Piaodian polity Situated on one of the three thoroughfares to the Mian city of Koncan / Kaungzin, ⑧ Piaodian (same as Piaoshan listed in route ⑤) was an important polity for Tai history due to its alleged association with the ancestors of Sä1Khaan3 Faa5, the founder of Mäng2 Maaw2 (route ⑥). Its site at the confluence of the Maaw2 and Ayeyarwaddy rivers, downstream from the Sä1 dynasty at Mäng2 Maaw2, facilitated communication with the Mian as well as areas west of the Ayeyarwaddy. Geographical location must have contributed to the rise of ⑧ Piaodian. The location of Piaodian has only been convincingly identified since the 1980s. In 1950, Shiratori Yoshirō (白鳥芳郎 positioned it in the Longchuan 隴川 (Tay: Mäng2 Wan2 mQnBvNB) basin,74 while in 1958, Luce, independent of Shiratori, situated it on the north bank of the Taiping River, somewhere in today’s Yingjiang county. Luce classified it as a small Pyū polity on the basis of the similarity between the Chinese word Piao and Pyū, but no source lends credence to his suggestion that Piaodian was settled by escapees from among the 3,000 prisoners captured at the former Pyū capital while being conveyed to Tuodong 拓東, on the plain near today’s Kunming, by the Nanzhao army in 832 (Luce, 1958, 176, note 29). The eminent historian of Yunnan, Fang Guoyu Luce (1958), p. 136 and Luce (1985) Vol. 1. 18 & 104. The toponym, Maingtha, is the Burmese reading of the Tay name for their polity, Mäng2 Saa1 mQnB srC. 72 Shiratori (1950), p. 71. Wade (2009), p. 25, described Tianbuma as “a polity located between the Taiping and Shweli Rivers”, but this would situate it on the same route as Piaodian, which the YS and Zheng Mian Lu recorded as lying on different routes. 73 Evidence for this confidence can be seen in the actions of the Mongol-Yuan army. Qielie 怯烈, the Commissioner for Pacifying the Mian 招緬使, reached Mang Nai Dian sometime between 15 January and 13 February 1287 (Zhiyuan 24/1), and left escort troops there before proceeding on by boat between 14 February and 15 March in the same year (YS, 210.4659; Wade, 2009, 38). 74 Shiratori (1950), pp. 74–75. 71

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方國瑜, has advanced a more plausible theory, without broaching the thorny issue of ethnic affiliation. Fang put Piaodian on the Maaw2 river at its confluence with the Ayeyarwaddy, probably around Mabein (Meng Bei 孟卑). He sited Piaodian south-east of Koncan / Kaungzin, but north-east of Tagaung, with the Baiyi polity ⑩ Mang Nai Dian lying to its south-east, and concluded: “Piaodian land lay southwest of Luchuan Route [⑥], and formed a relatively large city. There were numerous tribes (buluo 部落) in the vicinity, and Piaodian was the most renown” (Fang, 1987, 999–1000). He also notes that a Ming dynasty route from the Huju Pass 虎距關 to Koncan /Kaungzin and west to Mäng2 Yaang2 passed through Piaodian.75 Following Fang’s identification, the Dehong Tai Studies Association equated Piaodian with a polity known as Cun2 Ko2 zuNBgOB in Tai chronicles. According to the Association, when this polity’s ruler shifted capital from Mäng2 Keng2 Laaw2 mQnBgenB lrvBin Mäng2 Mit6 to Cun2 Ko2 in Culasakaraja 420 (1052 CE), its territory encompassed Mäng2 Mit6, Mäng2 Yaang2, Mäng2 Köng2 and other places (Dehongzhou daixue xuehui, 2005. 204–205). On the basis of this information, we can conclude that Piaodian straddled the east and west banks of the Ayeyarwaddy. To support the assertion that Cun2 Ko2 comprised an ethnic intermix of Tai and Mian, the Association cited a passage from the Mäng2 Maaw2 Chronicle in Chinese translation: “Cun2 Ko2 was a state composed of Tai and Man 曼 (Tay: maan4 mrN Ch; Mian 緬) ethnic groups” (Dehongzhou daixue xuehui. 2005. 204–205). This, however, is not a faithful translation of the original Tai text which reads: “In the tenth month of CS 1710 (1072 CE), a päk3 si1 (dragon) year in the Tay calendar, Caw5 Nyi4 of Cun2 Ko2 ruled several Tai and Mën2 mxNBcountries (ce4 nüm1 faa6 ze NqmC frV)” (SMPTKMKC. 282–283). The Tai text clarified four points: First, Cun2 Ko2 constituted a conglomeration of political entities (number unspecified), some populated by Tai and others by Mian, or perhaps a mixture of both, but not a single unified polity. Second, the Chronicle did not employ the term maan4, the usual Tai word for Mian, but mën2 (Tai orthography for Mian). It is unclear whether mën2 referred exclusively to Burmans, or included other ethnic groups as well. Third, the Chronicle did not specify the ethnic affiliation of the paramount ruler, Caw5 Nyi4. Fourth, this passage described the situation c. 1072 CE, so we cannot postulate that similar circumstances pertained during the 1280s. In short, available evidence does not substantiate Luce’s claim that Piaodian / Cun2 Ko2 was a Pyū polity in Mongol-Yuan times. The prowess of Piaodian can be corroborated from its ability to muster more than 10,000 troops to resist forces led by the King of Yunnan and Ai Lu 愛魯 in 1268. The Mongol-Yuan decapitated over 1,000 of the “ten thousand barbarian troops who severed the route through Piaodian, thereby frightening the various tribes into submission” (YS, 122.3012). Despite bloodshed, the Mongol-Yuan failed to subjugate all of Piaodian because Ai Lu faced resistance when he returned the following year to impose taxes (zufu 租賦), forcing him to “pacify twenty-four palisaded stockades (zhai 砦) in Huoma Fang (1987), p. 999. According to Fang (1987), p. 1127, the Maaw2 River was known as the Luchuan river 麓川江 and the Longchuan 隴川江 river in Ming sources. 75

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火麻 and other [places]” (YS, 122.3012). In 1270, five tribes (bu 部) of Piaoguo 驃國 (Piaodian) still refused to surrender, and it was only after Mongol-Yuan forces defeated two tribes, that the other three tribal leaders, A Tefu 阿慝福, Le Ding 勒丁and A Tegua 阿慝瓜, presented horses and elephants as tokens of capitulation (Su, 1987, 41: 50b. 1367–531). Mongol-Yuan troops went to vanquish Piaodian and Dabuma again in 1286 (Su, 1987, 41: 47a. 1367–529), probably due to dissatisfaction with the way Nisu 匿俗 handled the Piaodian native official’s mistreatment of the Mian salt-well official, Abi Lixiang, in 1285. Yet, Piaodian had not completely acquiesced in 1286. Exactly when the MongolYuan appointed the Piaodian leader as a native official remains unclear because the Yuan History merely listed the title “Piaodian Tribal Office 縹甸軍民府”, without divulging the date (YS, 60.1484). The New Yuan History recorded the establishment of the Piaodian Superior Prefecture 縹甸散府 “in the first year of Zhiyuan 至元” (Ke, 1956, 49: 23a). Since the Yuan had two Zhiyuan reign periods, it could have been either 1264 or 1335, but lack of corroborative evidence makes it difficult to assign a firm date.

Jinchi / Baiyi polities and Mäng2 Maaw2 The foregoing discussion substantiates the existence of numerous Jinchi / Baiyi polities in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region long before 1260. In this section, I will clarify the features of Mongol-Yuan administration that aided the emergence of Tai polities. Mountainous terrain shielded Jinchi / Baiyi polities from direct political control by the Dali Kingdom and its successor state, the Mongol-Yuan. Some received more exposure to Pagan than to the Dali Kingdom due to their proximity to Mian cities with troops in garrison along the Upper Ayeyarwaddy. Fear of the Mian and their formidable armies had probably salved political rifts throughout the area in the past. Evidence that the Mian patently regarded many Jinchi / Baiyi polities west of the Salween as feudatory to them can be found in the revengeful attacks against A Bi, A He, and other leaders for switching allegiance during the 1270s and 1280s. The Mongol-Yuan conquest of Koncan / Kaungzin in 1283, and the establishment of the Branch Secretariat for Conquering the Mian at Tagaung in 1286-7 upset the status quo by severely attenuating Mian authority. It marked the advent of Upper Ayeyarwaddy polities pledging allegiance to Chinese dynasties. Mongol-Yuan control of thoroughfares and their military expeditions against the Mian inadvertently generated an administrative infrastructure that Jinchi / Baiyi leaders could utilise to expand their polities. John Deyell (1983, 220) holds that three overland trade routes to the Brahmaputra valley, Manipur and Bengal had functioned since at least the 7th century. Mongol-Yuan administration in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region helped to keep trade routes open. Furthermore, new Tribal Commands set up at Mubang (Sën5wi1), Mengguang 蒙光 (Mäng Köng; Mogaung) and Yunyuan 雲遠 (Mäng2 Yaang2) in 1295 (YS, 61.1463-1484) further facilitated communication and deployment of troops deep into areas where major Tai polities would emerge during the 14th and 15th centuries. Between 2-31 March 1310 (Zhida 至大 3/2), Daihan 䚟罕 (Tai: Tai2 Kham2 daBhmB), the native official of the Mengguang route divulged that his younger Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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brother, Sanlan 三瀾, stationed at Blue Fort（Lanzhai 藍寨）on the frontier with India (Xitian 西天), sometime between 31 January and 1 March 1310, notified him of a letter sent from the King of Xitian 西天 to the Baiyi declaring that, “places occupied by the Baiyi fall under the jurisdiction of the Great Yuan, and they have been tax submitting subjects (wei min chu fu 為民出賦) for a long time”. The King declared: I am lord of land that I have acquired, and you are the lord of your own land, so neither side shall invade nor plunder the other. Now my envoy comes to present arrows and golden satin damask (jinduan 金段) to Lantao 攬陶, the mother76 of

Sanlan. Since incidents have arisen at the boundary (bianshi 邊警), I do not dare not to report [yo you] (Su, 1987, 41: 65a. 1367–538).

Tai polities in the upper Ayeyarwaddy clearly controlled areas west to the vicinity of today’s border with India by the late 13th century, long before the foundation of Mäng2 Maaw2. The Baiyi polity of Mengguang, lay somewhere near Tagaung, the seat from which the Kadu kingdom reputedly controlled territory west to Manipur. Sanlan, the name of the Baiyi leader stationed on this frontier could be a transcription of the Tai term Saam1 laan1 srmC lrNC, meaning third nephew or grandchild. Although Sanlan may not have been the biological brother, as stated in the above passage from the Yuan Wenlei 元文類 of 1334 (Yuantong 2), the term substantiates that Tai2 Kham2 had dispatched a trusted relative to administer this crucially important place for trade with India. By conquering Mengguang, the Mongol-Yuan extended their control to today’s Myanmar / Indian border. The Mäng2 Maaw2 polity emerged in this broad landscape during the first half of the 14th century. Its contours were formed by disruptions to the balance of military power in the upper Ayeyarwaddy and the collisions of the Mongol-Yuan and Mian royal dynasties. The data presented allows us to delineate some features of the landscape. First, ⑥ Luchuan Route was a forerunner of the Sä1 dynasty of Mäng2 Maaw2, the centre of which lay either in the Ruili 瑞麗, or the Longchuan 隴川 basin. It’s exact position in 1276 defies identification, due to our dearth of knowledge about the present day location of its subordinate territories: Dabumang 大布茫, Shantou Fusai 睒頭附賽, Shanzhong Danji 睒中彈吉, and Shanwei Fulupei 睒尾福祿培. Second, it exhibited a high degree of Baiyi ethnic uniformity (“subordinate territories all occupied by Baiyi 白夷”). Scholars agree that many Tai polities emerged from multi-ethnic societies, particularly those originally dominated by autochthonous Mon-Khmer speakers; over time, Tai warriors overcame and integrated Mon-Khmer into new polities administered by Tai elites (Condominas, 1990. 29–91). A relatively large Baiyi population testified that Luchuan had attained some measure of ethnic integration as a Tai polity as early as 1276. Third, the distance from the seats of Mongol-Yuan and Duan power in Dali and Yongchang afforded Luchuan leeway to consolidate itself, especially following the decline of Mian authority.

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Territorial expansion by Mäng2 Maaw2 in Yunnan Exactly how the Mäng2 Maaw2 polity emerged from among the Jinchi / Baiyi remains unclear. All known Tai Chronicles concur that Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 (dates unknown) founded the polity, but their accounts of his birth, his parents and other vital facts differ significantly. Named Caw5 Yi4 (Second Lord), or “Khun1 Yi4 Khaang1 Kham2 ” at birth, the founder only acquired the cognomen Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6, by which he is known to posterity, after coronation. Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 means the ‘Tiger Clawed Lord’, and two Tai chronicles attribute its origin to claw marks left by a tiger that sprung onto his back, but, curiously, refrained from mauling him.77 Potted biographies in chronicles are suffused with strong elements of such hagiography, which accentuate his courage, benevolence and integrity. Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 surfaces in the Yuan History during to the 1340s, where his name is transliterated as Si Kefa, variously written as 死可伐 and 思可法, the latter becoming common in early Ming sources. The Mongol-Yuan court ordered the dispatch of expeditions to chastise him on four occasions during the 1340s: first, on 15 January 1342 (Zhizheng 至正 2/12/bingchen), and second, on 29 June 1346 (Zhizheng 6/6/dingsi). Si Kefa 死可伐 surrendered, acquiescing to an Imperial decree of 29 July 1346 (Zhizheng 6/7/ dinghai), but he soon failed to comply and the Mongol-Yuan sent punitive forces a third time in 1347 (Zhizheng 7), and a fourth time in 1348 (Zhizheng 8).78 We can be certain that he was a warlike ruler. Although no Chinese source lends credence to Tai Chronicle accounts, or helps sort out conflicting accession dates, a more coherent chronology may be compiled by postulating c. 1335 as the time of his rise to paramount rulership.79 Up to that point, a number of individual regimes, each with their own ruler and aristocracy, may have existed concurrently within the Mäng2 Maaw2 and Mäng2 Wan2 basins. Before Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 founded his polity, the Mäng2 Maaw2 basin had belonged to ⑥ Luchuan Route. The Yuan History did not record his appointment as a native official. It simply chronicled “Native officials from Luchuan and other places in Yunnan came to present tribute of local products” on an yiyou day, second lunar month of the first year of Zhishun至順 1 [1330]”, and noted that the Luchuan Route Tribal Command 麓川 路軍民總管府 was established on 27 October 1330 (Zhishun 1/9/guisi) (YS, 34.750; YS, 34.766). The first native official of Luchuan may not have been appointed until 21 PSMKMLMKC. 231. According to the Sën5 Wi1 [Hsienwi] Chronicle (BMSW. 21), the protective spirit of the country (phi1 huk5 kha1 co2 paü6 maan5 paü6 mäng2 piCHugV hrCzoBbLV mrNA bLV mQnB) transformed itself into a tiger and pounced on the back of Sä1Khaan3 Faa6, but could not bite him. Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 also found a seal of office (cum5 zumA Ch: guanyin 官印) beneath a rock in accordance with instructions given by the protective spirit of the country. His invulnerability against tigers and his possession of seals of office portend his impending coronation as ruler of Mäng2 Maaw2. 78 YS, 40.865; YS, 41.875; YS, 186.4270; Jiang (1980), pp. 52–55. 79 Chronicles give divergent years for the accession of Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 to the throne. The most plausible seems to be that given in SMPTKMKC, pp. 296–297, which dated his coronation as the “supreme ruler of mist cloaked Mäng2 Maaw2” to a full moon day [15th] of the sixth month, a kat1 haw6 [己酉 chicken] year. According to Dehongzhou daixue xuehui (2005), p. 177 and p. 193, this cyclical date in the Tai calendar converts to 1335. 77

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June 1331 (Zhishun 2/5/gengyin) when the Yuan History mentioned it again.80 The first source to identify Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 as “the native official of Luchuan 麓川土官” was the Baiyi Zhuan of 1396 (Jiang, (1980). 52–55), so we cannot dismiss the possibility that the Mongol-Yuan issued him with a title, even though unrecorded by the Yuan History. Similar uncertainty surrounds his association with the foundation of the Ping Mian Pacification Office 平緬宣慰司 (literally ‘Pacification Office for Pacifying the Mian’) in Luchuan, c. 1355. The Yuan History stated: “Si Kefa, the bandit of Yunnan, and others surrendered on the wuyin day of the eighth lunar month of Zhizheng 15 [1 October 1355], and [he] ordered his son, the heir apparent (mansan 滿三81) to come to present tribute of local products, and [we] established the Ping Mian Pacification Office 平緬宣慰司” (YS, 44.926). The Yuan History did not prefix his name with any official title, and sometimes simply referred to him as “Si Kefa, the bandit of Yunnan 雲南賊死可伐,” during the 1340s. If, perchance, the Mongol-Yuan did grant him an official title, it undoubtedly would have bolstered his prestige, and facilitated his elevation to paramount ruler. By 1335–1340, Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 commanded sufficient military resources to embark on territorial expansion in today’s Yunnan. Chinese sources documented his occupation of four places: Moshale 摩沙勒 (Mosa莫洒 in Xinping County 新平縣), Weiyuan 威遠 (Jinggu 景谷 T: Mäng2 Kaa5 mQnB grA and Mäng2 Wö2 mQnB vOB), 82 Yuangan zhou 遠幹州 (Zhenyuan County 鎮沅縣) and Jingdong (景東 Tai: Keng2 Tung1 genBdunC).83 According to the Dushi Fangyu Jiyao 讀史方輿紀要 of 1678 (Kangxi 17), during the during the Zhiyuan 至元 reign period (1335~1340), “Ping Mian [Mäng2 Maaw2] rebelled, and set up stockades (zhai 寨) at Moshale in Malong Talang district 馬龍他郎甸. In 1388, the native leader of Ping Mian, Si Hunfa 思混法 [Sä1 Hom3 Faa5, son of Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6], invaded and built a YS, 35.785 recorded that the Mongol-Yuan: “established the Luchuan Route Tribal Command 蘆傳路軍民總管府 in Yunnan province, appointed native officials, and issued a gold tally to each zhishou 制授”. The characters for Luchuan 蘆傳are different from the Luchuan 麓川 of later times. Collation note 8 in YS, 35.796 gives 蘆傳路 as a mistake for 麓川路. 81 Mansan 滿三 is a Chinese transliteration of the Tai term maang2 saa2 mrnB srB meaning prince or heir apparent, a Burmese loanword used frequently in Tai literature. 82 According to Gong Suzheng 龔肅政 (d 2014), the doyen of Tai studies in Dehong, Jinggu 景谷 comprised not one mäng2 but two, known respectively as Mäng2 Kaa5 mQnB grA and Mäng2 Wö2 mQnB vOB(wö 2 means cattle), personal communication, 2000. Though Gong understood kaa5 in its usual meaning as rice seedling, Dr David Wharton of Vientiane has informed me that both Jinggu informants and the Lik manuscript Tham Ayong Moeng Lai, give the meaning of kaa as ‘to dance’ specifically referring to the posturing dance (kaa coeng) performed before fighting (here kaa is the same tone as ‘seedling’). Dr Wharton also points out that ‘wo’ is a cognate of mö3 mOE (a mine or quarry) which referred to the salt wells in Jinggu, though mö has no final ö in the local dialect, e-mail dated November 20, 2017. 83 According to Gong Suzheng, keng2 refers to a town or city and tung1 dunC means to congeal (ninggu 凝固 in Chinese), personal communication, 2000. According to Dehongzhou daixue xuehui (2005), p. 106, Jingdong is Menggu 勐谷in Tai (no Tai script given), and its main city was “Jingdong 景東” meaning 銅城 or copper city, implying that it had city walls as sturdy as copper. If it meant copper city, then the Tai would be Keng2 Töng2 genBdwnB. 80

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stockade at Mashale” (Gu,115: 10a). A report in the Veritable Records of Taizu [Hongwu] dated 27 July 1383 (Hongwu 16/6/yihai) aids dating the occupation of Weiyuan and Yuangan: Recent enquiries have revealed that Sikefa’s territory has thirty-six routes. In former Yuan times, officials were appointed to administer them, but later barbarian people monopolized this territory, and it [has remained in their hands] for forty years. People successively invaded the two prefectures of Yuangan and Weiyuan lying southwest of Chuxiong 楚雄, and barbarians eventually claimed these places despite efforts by the [Mongol-Yuan] because the Liang Prince 梁王 was unable to control them. (Taizu Shilu, 2414–2415)

If the barbarians referred to the Baiyi, then Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 must have occupied Weiyuan and Yuangan around 1343. Moreover, if we accept the dates of 1335–1340 given by Gu Zuyu 顧祖禹 in the Dushi Fangyu Jiyao, then he must have occupied all three places earlier than 1343 because his armies had to pass through Weiyuan and Yuangan in order to arrive at Moshale, situated on the west bank of the Red River.84 This marked the easternmost extent of territory held by Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6. The domains of Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 stretched north to Jingdong. He annexed Jingdong at the time of his eastward expedition between 1335–1340, only years after the Yuan had established it as a prefecture in 1331. His descendants governed Jingdong until the Thaaw5 Mäng2 trvV mQnB, E Tao 俄陶 surrendered to the Ming in 1382. The Ming rewarded E Tao by appointing him as Native Prefect 土知府 in 1384, and Sä1 Hom3 Faa5 (Si Lunfa 思倫發), the incumbent ruler of Mäng2 Maaw2, attacked Jingdong the following year to chastise him for infidelity, compelling E Tao to flee for his life to Baiyachuan 白崖川 (today’s Hongyan 紅岩) in Midu county 彌渡縣, near Dali (Tuguan Dibu, Shang: 81a; Taizu Shilu. 2673; Dehongzhou daixue xuehui, 2005, 106). Both versions of the Baiyi Zhuan make it abundantly clear that Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 administered the populace of his territory. The Qian Guxun 錢古訓 version recorded:85 Seizing the opportunity afforded by victory, [Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6] annexed various Routes (lu 路) and possessed them. Then, [he] withdrew the native official titles [of captured rulers], and rewarded those who had rendered meritorious service with districts (dian 甸). But fearing the dispatch of another punitive expedition, [he] sent his son, the heir apparent (mansan 滿散), to Court to convey his sentiments and submit allegiance. [The Court] turned a blind eye, and did not make enquiries. While submitting tribute and accepting the calendar of the [Mongol-Yuan] court, [he] exceeded normal regulations in the use of regalia, dining utensils and paraphernalia, but the Yuan was unable to control him. This marked the beginning of the Baiyi becoming resolutely unreasonable (qiang 強). The upper reaches of the Red River (Honghe 紅河) are known as the Yuan river 元江. Jiang (1980), p. 55. The Li Sicong 李思聰 version in Jiang (1980), pp. 52–55, gives a similar account with different wording. 84 85

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Table 2 Native official appointments to polities in Babai Xifu (Lan Na Polity Region), 1327 to 1347. Date

Title of native official in Chinese

Nov. 13 1327 the Baibai barbarians requested appointment

Mengqing xuanwei si du yuanshuai fu 蒙 慶宣慰司都 元帥 Pacification Office and Chief Military Command at Mengqing

Nov. 13, 1327 the Baibai barbarians requested appointment Nov. 13, 1327 the Baibai barbarians requested appointment June 20, 1331

Mu’an prefecture 木安府

June 20, 1331

June 20, 1331 June 20, 1331 Feb. 1, 1347

Polity’s indigName of native official enous name

Name of officials aiding native official

Chiang Vice-Pacification Saen Commissioner of Wusa 烏撒 who served Ni Chugong 你出公 and the Native Official Zhao Nantong 招南 通 both served jointly as Chief Military Commanders in the Pacification Office. Zhao Nantong may have been appointed as a Native Official before the main appointment. Chiang Zhao Sanjin 招三斤 Khong (son of Zhao Nantong)

YS, 30. Renmide 人 682 米德 served as an Associate Administrator to Pacification Commission in the capacity of a Vice Commander in Chief 同知 宣慰司事副 元帥

Source

No mention

YS, 30. 682

Meng Jie prefec- Müang Hun Pen 混盆 (nephew No mention ture 孟傑府 Cae of Zhao Nantong） Sak

YS 30. 682

Pacification Office and Chief Military Command of Babai and other places 八百等處宣慰 司都元帥 Meng Yuan Route 孟肙路 converted into a Tribal Command 軍民總管府 Zhexian Tribal Office 者線軍 民府 Mengqing Dian Tribal Office 蒙 慶甸軍民府 Babai Pacification Office was re-instated 復立 八百宣慰司

No mention

YS,35. 785

No mention

YS, 35. 785

Chiang No mention Saen

No mention

YS,35. 785

Chiang No mention Saen

No mention

YS,35. 785

Chiang The native official Han Saen Bu 韓部 (Phayu, r, 1337-1355)

No mention

YS 41. 876.

Lan Na The native official polity Zhao Lian 昭練 (Cao Saen [Phu]) was appointed as Commissioner and Commander-in-chief 宣慰使都元帥 Chiang No mention Mai

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After annexing Mongol-Yuan governed territory, Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 annulled native official titles. He returned domains to native officials who submitted to him, and apportioned districts (dian 甸), probably confiscated from non-compliant native officials, to those who had distinguished themselves with meritorious service on the battlefield. Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 stationed Tai nobles in the new territories from the 1340s onwards, and exacted labour services and taxes. The Qian version recorded him “collecting gold and silver by enumerating houses (ji fangwu zheng jinyin 計房屋征金銀)” in each district in autumn every year, each house paying one to three liang of silver (Jiang, 1980, 79). Unlike Tai raiding of Central Burma, Sä1Khaan3 Faa6 sought territory, not plunder. Here, he may have striven to emulate Mongol-Yuan administration. Although Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 acknowledged the Yuan court as his overlord by acquiescing to a tributary relationship, he flouted their authority by invading, occupying and governing parts of Yunnan formerly administered by the Dali Kingdom. True allegiance required conformity to rules laid down by the court; to profess one without the other hardly made sense to imperial officials. Hence both versions of the Baiyi Zhuan condemned his feigned profession of submission, remarking; “while he accepted the Court’s calendar and submitted tribute, in norms he imitated the costume and paraphernalia of a King” (Li Sicong 李思聰 version in Jiang, 1980,55). A peculiar combination of factors, deceitful cunning, and the decline of Mongol-Yuan authority in Yunnan after the 1340s, allowed Sä1 Khaan3 Faa6 to expand his territory as far east as the Red River.

Pacification Offices in Lan Na territory We must first understand the ramifications of the administrative term, Pacification Office (xuanweisi 宣慰司), to gauge the extent of Mongol-Yuan influence on Tai polities. Pacification Offices are well known as one of the highest ranking native offices for state control of ethnic groups in south-west China during the Ming and Qing periods, but they performed far broader functions during the Mongol-Yuan period. I will begin by briefly explaining the evolution of Pacification Offices during the Mongol-Yuan period, and their configuration within Lan Na territory. The Chinese historian Lu Ren 陸韌, building on the studies of Shi Weimin 史衛民 and Li Zhi’an 李治安, has emphasised their role as units of military occupation during and immediately following the Mongol-Yuan conquest of China proper. Lu classified Pacification Offices into four types, according to period and function: first, those set up to supervise and control the Surveillance Commissions (Jiansi 監司) of hereditary Commanders in Han Chinese areas of North China, 1262-64; second, military offices to administer occupied areas in former Southern Song territory south of the Yangzi river, 1264-78; third, ordinary Pacification Commissions, which acted as intermediaries for administration between Prefectures 府, Brigades 萬戶府 and provincial Branch Secretariats 行中書省, 1278-1367; and fourth, Pacification Offices in frontier areas, which performed military functions in addition to the duties of ordinary Pacification

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Commissions, 1278-1367.86 The Pacification Office in Lan Na belonged to the frontier type. Commissioners in Pacification Offices concurrently served as Commanderin-Chiefs 都元帥. Past studies have overlooked the dual function of Pacification Offices in Yunnan as both agencies of military government and organs for native official administration. The Yuan History clearly stated: “during military campaigns in distant frontier areas”, they “concurrently served as the Chief Military Command”, and “there are also zhaotao 招討, anfu 安撫, xuanfu 宣撫 and other commissions in even more remote areas” (YS, 91.2308). Among Commissioners concurrently serving as Commander-in-Chiefs in the Dali Pacification Office 大理 宣慰司, one was a notable Mongol, and one a Duan family member. Joint military administration by local rulers and Mongols prevailed in Yunnan until the fall of the Mongol-Yuan.87 The title Pacification Office and Chief Military Command 宣慰司都元 帥 itself attests to the strong military function of the two Pacification Offices established within Lan Na territory in 1327 and 1331, both at rank 2b. The normal quota was twelve officials, but the allocation for Mengqing Pacification Office was capped at five: “Two Commissioners 使, one Associate Administrator 同知, one Vice Commissioner 副使, and either one Registrar 經歷, or one Office Manager 都事”.88 Table 2 catalogues appointments at Mengqing and Babai over the twentyyear period, 1327–1347, listing indigenous rulers who served as Commissioners and Commanders-in-chief. The source, the Yuan History, omits the names of the Mongol Commissioners, even though presumably they served. Interestingly, Table 2 documents the 1327 appointment of a local Vice Commander-in-Chief, named Renmide 人米 德 (ethnicity unknown), recruited through “summoning and instruction (zhaoyu 招 諭)”. The Mongol-Yuan aimed to utilise Renmide’s authority and power to assist the local commissioner Zhao Nantong 招南通 (Cao Nam Thuam, d. 1328), a ruler of the Mangrai dynasty. The Mongol-Yuan sought further stability by ordering Zhao Nantong’s son, Zhao Sanjin 招三斤, to head Mu’an prefecture 木安府 (Chiang Khong), and his nephew, Hun Pen 混盆,89 to administer Meng Jie prefecture 孟傑府 (Müang Cae Sak). Manifestly, the Mongol-Yuan paid attention to local power politics when assigning duties.90 The last reference to the Babai Pacification Office appeared in Lu Ren (2012), pp. 25-27. I follow Hucker (1985), p. 251, in translating the fourth type of Xuanwei Si 宣慰司 as Pacification Office, and the other three types as Pacification Commission. 87 Lu Ren (2012), p. 28. Liew-Herres, Grabowsky and Wichasin (2012) did not mention joint administration in Lan Na during the Mongol-Yuan period. 88 YS, 91.2309. According to YS, 41.2308, the stipulated quota for officials in Pacification Commissioner Offices and Chief Military Commands of Commissioners 宣慰使司都元帥府 of rank 2b was twelve: three Commissioners 使; two Associate Administrators 同知; two viceCommissioners 副使; two Registrars 經歷; two Administrative Clerks 知事; and one Record Keeper and Clerk-store keeper 照磨兼架閣管勾. 89 Liew-Herres, Grabowsky and Wichienkeeo (2008) did not identity Hun Pen 混盆. Hun is probably a transliteration of Khun1 huNC. 90 According to the Chiang Mai Chronicle, Cao Nam Thuam was exiled to Chiang Tung in 1324, which is three years before his appointment as Commissioner of the Pacification Office and Chief 86

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the Yuan History at the time of its re-opening on 1 February 1347 (Zhizheng 6/ 12/ jiawu), which may suggest closure sometime between 1331-1347. This bespeaks the impermanent nature of the Babai Pacification Office in its early years, and may reflect the instability of contemporary relations between different parts of Lan Na. Based on close readings of Tai chronicles, historians in Thailand generally agree that Lan Na was split into two contending centres of political power between 1311 and 1340: one in the north-east (Chiang Rai/Chiang Saen area), and another in the south-west (Chiang Mai/Lamphun area). Cao Saen Phu (Ch: Zhao Lian 昭練 d. 1334), a Mangrai dynasty ruler in the north-east power centre, constructed the walled city (wiang) of Chiang Saen on the west bank of the Mekong River on 3 March 1329. The name literally means “Royal City of [King] Saen [Phu]”, and it roughly equalled in size the city of Chiang Mai, built by King Mangrai in 1296 (Liew-Herres, Grawbosky and Wichasin (2012), p. 54; pp. 43-44). If Cao Saen Phu resided at the new city of Chiang Saen when appointed to head the Pacification Office and Chief Military Command of Babai and other places on 20 June 1331,91 the “Royal City ” could not have housed the Mengqing Pacification Office and Chief Military Command at the time of its inception in 1327, so it must have been located elsewhere. 92 The Mongol-Yuan also set up the Mengqing Dian Tribal Office 蒙慶甸軍民府 and Zhexian Tribal Office 者線軍民府 in the Chiang Saen area in 1331. If we take Zhexian 者線 as a transliteration of the Tai term Ce3 Sën1 (literally, town of Saen), then this term may have referred to the “Royal City ”, or another fortified city at Chiang Saen. The north-east power centre, undoubtedly “a distant frontier area” for the MongolYuan, was where they created the Pacification Office and Chief Military Command of Mengqing and Babai. Their choice of the Chiang Saen area may have stemmed from its strategic location in the north-east zone: Chiang Saen afforded access to northern Thailand and northern Laos, and provided a base for controlling the south-west power centre. Babai, in the title of the appointment on 30 June 1331, seems to refer to the “Royal City of [King] Saen [Phu]”, while “other places” included other fortified cities in the Chiang Saen area and Muan (Chiang Kong?) in the north-east power zone, and Moeng Yuan 孟肙 (Chiang Mai) and Müang Cae Sak (Mengjie), located between Fang and Chiang Mai near the centre of the south-west zone (see Table 2).93 The Yuan History fails to specify the location of the Tribal Command of Moeng Yuan 孟肙路軍民 總官府, but its higher standing (rank 3b) than the other two Chiang Saen agencies at Zhexian and Mengqing dian (both rank 4b) bespeak its importance in the southwest zone; the Mongol-Yuan identified the western half of Babai as the stronghold of the Tai Yuan, the ruling ethnic group. The ranking of native officials reflected a hierarchy of power politics within Lan Na. The Ming court initially recognised Military Command of Mengqing, see Wyatt and Wichienkeeo (1995), pp. 56–57. 91 According to Wyatt and Wichienkeeo, (1995), pp. 57–60, Cao Saen Phu assigned his son to rule Chiang Mai, and constructed the city of Chiang Saen sometime between 1327-1329; Cao Saen Phu died at Chiang Saen c. 1336. 92 Liew-Herres, Grabowsky and Wichienkeeo (2008), p. 86, identified Mengqing as Chiang Saen. 93 For identification of place names, see Liew-Herres, Grabowsky and Wichienkeeo (2008), pp. 52-53. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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the Tribal Command of Moeng Yuan in 1382 (Hongwu 15), but abolished it later (Zhang, 1995. 46.1192). Political organisation within Babai only became clearer to the Mongol-Yuan after 13 November 1327 (Taiding 4 / intercalary 9/ jiawu) when, reputedly, their ruler requested protection (guanshou 官守). Fresh information about local power politics led them to establish native officials at four strategic places between 1327 and 1331: namely Chiang Saen, Chiang Mai, possibly Chiang Kong, and Müang Cae Sak. In addition to Babai, other Tai polities issued with appointments during the 1330s grew into larger political entities later as well. For instance, the first native official of Luchuan, the forerunner of Mäng2 Maaw2, received his appointment in 1330-1331, as mentioned earlier, and the Laogao Tribal Command 老告軍民總管府 was established on 6 September 1338 (Zhiyuan 4/8 jiashen). The Yuan History documented Laogao once only (YS, 39.845), and it probably referred to the Lansang polity at Luang Prabang in Northern Laos, renamed Laowo 老撾 by the Ming. The Mongol-Yuan now oversaw affairs over most of the Tai world, from the Ayeyarwaddy to the Mekong, through native officials.

Kang Min, a low ranking official or supernumerary? How did Kang Min come to be assigned as the “nominal office of Pacifier”? What were his responsibilities? Failure of the Yuan History and other sources to mention this appointment implies that it was filled by low ranking officials, or supernumeraries. Kang Min may have been a low ranking, or unranked, official when serving as the “nominal office of Pacifier” in Lan Na, performing secretarial or clerical duties for native officials in the Babai region on a seasonal basis; assuming duty during the dry season (winter) reduced the chances of contracting malaria and other diseases. Native officials required staff proficient in Chinese for communication with the Mongol-Yuan, and it is highly likely that Kang Min had some degree of education because his eldest son served as the Confucian mentor to sons of the Duan family. We cannot rule out the possibility that Kang Min may have served at the low rank of Registrar 經歷, or Office Manager 都事, as recorded by the Yuan History for Mengqing, or possibly assisted as an unranked clerk. The Inscription narrates that Kang males filled such positions in Yunnan over several generations; his second son served as the Record Keeper of Qingdian county, and his eldest grandson as the Administrative Clerk of the Tengchong Route. Estimates from figures in the Da-Yuan Shengzheng Guochao Dianzhang 大元聖政 國朝典章 (compiled 1320–1322) reveal that offices without “rank and title” comprised 15.7 percent of civilian officials in the Mongol-Yuan period (Endicott-West. 1989, 13). An entry in the Yuan History dated 24 January 1320 (Yanyou 延祐 6/12/ jiazi) confirmed that such officials served in Sipsong Panna. It chronicled a reduction of “one hundred and twenty four officials such as Associate Administrators 同知, Assistants 相副官, and Confucian School 儒學 and Mongolian Instructors 蒙古教授 and other officials in Yunnan, Dali, Greater and Lesser Cheli 大小徹里 and other places” (YS, 26.593). Kang Min may have served in such a capacity. If the Duan family bore responsibility for providing clerical staff for native officials, then they would have recruited men from Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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families closely associated with them. By the Zhizheng 至正 (1341-1367) era, the Duan Family General Administrator had attained some degree of autonomy from the Liang Prince in distant Kunming. The case of Kang Min and his descendants suggests that the Duan may have been responsible for providing personnel from Yunnan to fill the positions of officials and clerks in the yamens of native officials at the southern edge of the Mongol-Yuan world. Staffing the yamens of native officials with personnel from Yunnan testifies to close association between Duan and Mongol-Yuan administration. Yet, we have little evidence to prove that non-local personnel influenced proto-Tai/Tai polity building. No instances of local rulers adopting Chinese ideals of statecraft and customs have been documented for the Upper Mekong and Upper Ayeyarwaddy. Non-local personnel were mere sojourners, assuming office in the dry season, and scurrying for the high ground before the onset of the rains. The portrait is one of the Mongol-Yuan superimposing administrative units on loosely structured Southeast Asian polities, bolstering the authority of Tai rulers, without directly participating in everyday administration of the local populace.

Conclusion Gradual consolidation of territory lying at the southern fringes of the fallen Dali kingdom from the 1260s, particularly the conquest of Tagaung, ousting of Mian political power, and the destruction of Kantū and proto-Tai polities by the Mongol-Yuan during the 1280s, caused a reconfiguration of polities on both sides of the Upper Ayeyarwaddy river. Evidence furnished by this study demonstrates that Tai polities emerged in the upper Ayeyarwaddy area during the 1270s, roughly as early as in the upper Mekong region. The political power of some Tai polities even stretched along trade routes to the Indian border, possibly reaching the Brahmaputra valley, or Manipur. In the past, historians have neglected polities in this region because they did not play a role in the formation of charter states that spawned modern states in Southeast Asia, but this study demonstrates that numerous Mon-Khmer and proto-Tai/Tai polities, both small and large, functioned to connect the Yun-Gui plateau with mainland Southeast Asia before the Ming period. From the perspectives of political and social organisation, ethnic configuration and material culture, it is clear that northern mainland Southeast Asia encompassed much of today’s Yunnan. The Mongol-Yuan relied heavily on the authority and influence of the Duan Family General Administrator to claim possession of former Dali kingdom territories in the upper Ayeyarwaddy and upper Mekong river regions. Therefore, with northern mainland Southeast Asia well within its orbit, the Dali kingdom functioned as an interchange on communication routes; it interconnected Pagan /Angkor in the south with the Tibetan and the Chinese worlds in the north. The restoration of the Duan family ensured the continuation of this arrangement, but the obliteration of the Duan by the Ming gradually eroded traditional links between the Yun-Gui plateau and Southeast Asian style polities, thereby ushering in a new era of indirect administration by the Chinese dynastic state based solely on the native official system. Ming governance of Tai polities without aid Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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from local intermediaries like the Duan, coupled with the Burmese conquest of western mainland Southeast Asia during the mid-16th century, further distanced Tai polities in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy and Upper Mekong from Yunnan province. How great an influence did the Mongol-Yuan exert on Tai polity building? Appointment as native officials turned powerful local rulers into tributary vassals of the Mongol-Yuan. For some local rulers this arrangement merely meant transferring feudatory ties from the Dali kingdom to new masters, while for others it entailed switching allegiance from the Mian to the Mongol-Yuan. The positioning of native officials at strategic points along major thoroughfares facilitated trade and communication with Southeast Asia and the Indian ocean. Evidence from the case of the Pacification Offices in the Lan Na region does not substantiate Lieberman’s hypothesis that the Mongol-Yuan “encouraged the creation of Tai client states” in the upper Mekong by providing them with “new military and administrative models” through their status as native officials (Lieberman, 2003, 241). Acceptance of appointments signified token, rather than real acquiescence to Mongol-Yuan overlordship, and never guaranteed blind compliance. As Volker Grabowsky (2010, 203–204) has argued, despite having submitted tribute since 1312, Lan Na did not agree to the establishment of Pacification Offices within its territory until much later, in 1327. At the southern edge of the MongolYuan world, the constraints of distance, terrain and climate enabled local rulers to retain autonomy. If the Mongol-Yuan were patrons, then the Tai of Lan Na and Mäng2 Maaw2 were reluctant “clients”, who always put their own interests first. The cases of Kang Min and his descendants attest that the Mongol-Yuan assigned high and low ranking officials to “client states” in the upper Mekong and south-west Yunnan. Although we cannot dismiss the possibility of some emulation by Tai rulers, the evidence does not validate the claim that Mongol-Yuan personnel provided Tai native officials with new military and administrative models, or blueprints, for constructing polities. Their duties remained secretarial and clerical in nature, and neither included counselling Tai rulers on statecraft, nor directly administering local communities. The Mongol-Yuan did not set out to encourage the Tai to strengthen their polities, their principal concern lay in subordinating them. It was the disruption caused by the Mongol-Yuan conquest of the Dali kingdom that created an environment conducive to political change among the proto-Tai/Tai after 1260. Evidence demonstrates wide distribution of proto-Tai/Tai polities in the upper Ayeyarwaddy before c. 1260, and their extension west towards the border with India in the post-1260 period before the emergence of large Tai polities, such as Mäng2 Maaw2. Expulsion of Mian power from the Upper Ayeyarwaddy following the conquest of Tagaung and the start of administration c. 1286, and the shrinkage of Mongol-Yuan influence after the withdrawal of troops in 1303 afforded proto-Tai/Tai leaders with the opportunity to reorganise and expand existing political organisations; now, local leaders in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy could manoeuvre more freely, war amongst themselves, and build new polities with less outside interference. Evidently, different ethnic groups already operated polities before 1260, and as actors in the drama of power struggles, some politically seasoned leaders smoothed over the transition from allegiance to the Dali kingdom to Mongol-Yuan overlords, while Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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those who refused to comply met with annihilation. Tai leaders, emerging from the political turmoil, did not consent to close supervision easily; bear in mind that it was the military prowess of the Tai in Central Myanmar and Northern Thailand that compelled the Mongol-Yuan to withdraw from Tagaung. Tai-polity building had a corrosive impact on Mongol-Yuan territory, as manifested in the conquests east of the Mekong river in Yunnan by Sä1Khaan3 Faa6; they lost territory inherited from the Dali Kingdom to an upstart Tai ruler. Notions of “patronage” and “client states” are misleading because they downplay the centrality of the Tai as agents navigating themselves along the path to polity building. Tai rulers ambitiously consolidated their polities by acquiring new material cultures, especially skills and technology from the outside world during the 13th and 14th centuries. They utilised new agrarian and water management techniques, and procured craftsmen through warfare and migration, and adopted writing systems for administrative purposes (Lieberman and Buckley, 2012, 1075–1076; Daniels, 2000, 82–90). The Tai writing system used in the Upper Ayeyarwaddy region during the late 14th century derived from Burmese script (Daniels, 2012), and may have been borrowed as early as the 13th century when they owed fealty to the Mian. Superior technology and material culture attracted other ethnic groups to their polities, thereby rapidly increasing Tai populations. Rather than benevolent patronage, Tai aspirations for self-strengthening motivated them to take advantage of the new political environment created by the Mongol-Yuan. Acknowledgments I have benefited by comments from David Faure, Ku Chengmei 古正美, Liu Tik Sang 廖迪生, Cheung Siu Woo 張昭和, Ma Jianxiong 馬健雄 and Wong Wing-ho 黃永 豪 on preliminary versions of this paper presented at the Workshop on Ethnic Groups, History and Culture at the Intersection of Yunnan, Sichuan, Tibet and Myanmar, held at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology on 25 April 2016, and to Hayashi Ken’ichirō 林謙一郎 and Tateishi Kenji 立石謙次 at the Historical Development of the Plains and Hills Bordering Southwest China and Southeast Asia Zomia Study Group Special International Workshop, at the Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Kyoto University, 13 January 2017. I am grateful to Bill Mak 麥文彪, a Sanskrit scholar at Kyoto University, for kindly providing a philological analysis of Sanskrit texts. I also thank an anonymous reviewer for comments and suggestions. Financial support from HKUST 2014-2105 School-Based initiatives (SBI) grant and the Hong Kong Research Grants Council General Research Fund No. 16642516 are gratefully acknowledged for funding fieldwork and research in Yunnan.

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1: Integration on the Mainland. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lieberman, Victor and Brendan Buckley. 2012. “The Impact of Climate on Southeast Asia circa. 950-1820: New Findings.” Modern Asian Studies. 46, 5 (2012) pp. 1049–1096. Liew-Herres, Foon Ming 劉奮明, Volker Grabowsky and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo. 2008. Lan Na in Chinese Historiography: Sino-Tai Relations as Reflected in the Yuan and Ming Sources (13th to 17th Centuries). Bangkok: Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University. Liew-Herres, Foon Ming 劉奮明, Volker Grawbosky and Renoo Wichasin. 2012. Chronicle of Sipsòng Panna: History and Society of a Tai Lü Kingdom Twelfth to Twentieth Century. Chiang Mai: Mekong Press. Lu Ren 陸韌. 2012. “Yuandai Xuanwei Si de Bianjiang Yanhua ji Junzheng Guankong Tedian 元代宣慰司的邊疆演化及軍政管控特點. Yunnan Shifan Daxue Xuebao 雲南師範大學 學報. Zhexue Shehui Kexue Ban 哲學社會科學版. Vol. 44, No. 6, pp. 25-32. Luce, G.H. 1958. “The Early Syam in Burma’s History”. Journal of the Siam Society. 46, 2, pp. 123–214. Luce, G.H. 1959. “Note on the Peoples of Burma in the 12th-13th Century AD”. Journal of The Burma Research Society. Vol. XLII, Part 1, pp. 52-74. Luce, G.H. 1985. Phases of Pre-Pagan Burma: Languages and History. New York: Oxford University Press. Luo Zhong 羅中 and Luo Weiqing 羅維慶. 2016. “Zhidu yu Fuhao: Liubianzhong Qingdai Tusi Zhidu de Duoyangxing Fazhan 制度與符號：流變中清代土司制度的多樣性發 展”, Qingshi Luncong 清史論叢, No. 32, pp. 3-30. Moore, Elizabeth. 2007. Early Landscapes of Myanmar. Bangkok: River Books. O’Connor, Richard A. 1995. “Agricultural Change and Ethnic Succession in Southeast Asian States: A Case for Regional Anthropology.” Journal of Asian Studies. 54, 4, pp. 968-996. Peng Gang 彭綱 and Zhou Jifeng 周季鳳. 1990. Zhengde Yunnan Gazetteer 正德雲南志 Preface 1510 (Zhengde 5). Included in Tianyige Cang Mingdai Fangzhi Xuankan Xubian 天一閣藏明代方志選刊續編, 70 &71. Shanghai: Shanghai Shudian. Rossabi, Morris. 1994. “The Reign of Khubilai Khan” in The Cambridge History of China, Vol. 6: Alien Regimes and Border States 907–1368. eds. Herbert Franke and Denis Twitchett. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 414-489. Shao, Yuanping 邵遠平. 2002. Xu Hongjian Lu Yuanshi Leibian 簡錄元史類編 （original 1699, Xuxiu Siku Quanshu）. Shanghai: Guji Chubanshe. Shintani, Tadahiko 新谷忠彦. 2000. Shan (Tay) go In’onron to Mojihōシャン (Tay) 語韻音論 と文字法. Tokyo: Institute for the Study Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa. Shiratori Yoshirō 白鳥芳郎. 1950. “Genchō Nyū Men no Ichikōsatsu 元朝入緬の一考察”, Tōyō Gakuhō 東洋學報. 33: 3–4, pp. 69–89. Su Tianjue 蘇天爵, ed. 1987. Yuan Wenlei 元文類. Sike Quanshu edition: Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe. Sun, Laichen. 2000. “Ming-Southeast Asian Overland Interactions, 1368–1644.” Ph.D diss., Univ. of Michigan. Taizu Shilu, 太祖實錄. 1962. Taibei: Guoli Zhongyang Yanjiuyuan Lishi Yuyan Yanjuisuo. Tan, Qixiang 譚其驤 ed. 1982. Zhongguo Lishi Ditu Ji 中國歷史地圖集. Shanghai: Ditu Chubanshe. Tang Li 唐立 (Christian Daniels). 2017. “Yuandai Babai Xifu Xuanwei Sishi Shifou Hanzu 元代八百媳妇宣慰司使是否汉族”, Zunyi Shifan Xueyuan Xuebao 遵义师范学院学 报,19,15-19. Tōkyō Gaikokugo Daigaku Ajia Afurika Gengo Bunka Kenkyūjo 東京外国語大学アジア・ア フリカ言語文化研究所. Ed., 2005. Zusetsu Ajia Moji Nyūmon 圖説アジア文字入門, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Kawade Shobō Shinsha 河出書房新社, Tōkyō, 2005. Tuguan Dibu 土官底簿. Siku Quanshu Zhenben Chuji edition. von Hinüber, Oskar. 1989. “Two Dharani-Inscriptions from Tombs at Dali (Yunnan)”, Journal of the Siam Society, 77, 1, pp. 55-59. Wade, Geoff. 2009. “An Annotated Translation of the Yuan Shi Account of Mian (Burma)” in The Scholar’s Mind: Essay in Honor of Frederick W. Mote. Perry Link, ed. Hong Kong: The Chinese University of Hong Kong, pp. 17-49. Wang, Jinpin. 2016. “Clergy, Kinship, and Clout in Yuan Dynasty Shaanxi”. International Journal of Asian Studies, 13, 2, pp. 197-228. Wang, Yun 王惲. Preface. 1498. Qiujian Xiansheng Daquan Wenji 秋澗先生大全文集. Sibu Congkan Chubian Jibu edition. Wyatt, David K. 1984, Thailand: A Short History. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Wyatt David K. and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo. 1995. transl. The Chiang Mai Chronicle. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Yule, Henry, trs., Henri Cordier. 2012. The Travels of Marco Polo: The Illustrated Edition. New York: Fall River Press. Yunnan Sheng Shaoshu Minzu Guji zhengli Chuban Guihua Bangongshi 雲南省少數民族古籍 整理出版規劃辦公室. ed. (1988). Meng Guozhanbi Ji Meng Mao Gudai Zhu Wang Shi 猛果占璧及猛卯古代諸王史. Kunming: Yunnan Minzu Chubanshe. Zhang, Tingyu et al. eds. 1995. Mingshi 明史. Beijing, Zhonghua Shuju. Zhang Xilu 張錫祿. 1991. “Gudai Baizu Daxing Fojiao Zhi Azhali 古代白族大姓佛教之阿 叱力,” in Lan Jifu 藍吉富 et al., Yunnan Dali Fojiao Lunwen Ji 雲南大理佛教論文集, Gaoxiong 高雄, Foguang Chubanshe 佛光出版社, 1991, pp. 171-214.

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Tay (Shan) Encroachments into the Irrawaddy Basin and the Fall of Ava: Western Mainland Southeast Asia in the “Age of Commerce” Ken Kirigaya

Abstract—The “Age of Commerce,” habitually and primarily regarded as a maritime phenomenon, actually affected the interior of western mainland Southeast Asia, including the highland Tay (Shan) world, a rich source of valuable commodities, such as musk, jade, amber, and rubies, which were destined to be exported from the seaports of Lower Burma southward to Melaka and westward to India and beyond. The economic boom further activated the southward downhill movement of the Tay onto the Irrawaddy Basin, ultimately leading in 1527 to the fall of the Upper Burma capital Ava, a thriving riverine emporium. The Tay seizure of the vital trading center in the “Burmese heartland” made the western mainland a commercially more integrated unit, which would in turn be politically unified decades later by Bayinnaung, the king of the maritime state more blessed with the Age of Commerce.

Introduction Over a quarter of a century ago, Anthony Reid, in his magnum opus Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce, attempted to write a “total history” of the region, “treating Southeast Asia as a whole” (AOC I: xiv).1 It was not entirely total, for a large and significant piece was missing. As Reid regretfully acknowledged, his seminal work is ocean-oriented, in which “the hill peoples of the northern mainland will not play a large part . . . even though many of them were linked by culture with the Thai of the coast and the central plain” (7). By “the hill peoples of the northern mainland,” he probably and mainly meant groups of Tai-speakers in northern Thailand and Laos. This article, by focusing on the Tay (Shan) of the northwestern mainland who were linked by commerce with the Burmans of the Central Plain,2 and less closely with the Abbreviations of frequently cited materials are listed at the end of the article. Throughout this essay I use “Tay” rather than “Shan,” as I agree with Christian Daniels (2012: 148n) on “calling ethnic groups by their own names,” and “shunn[ing] this exonym [Shan] in favor of their autonym, Tay.” For the romanization of Tay words, I basically (but not strictly) follow the suggestions of Shintani (2000). Meanwhile, in this article “Burman” means a group of people who were (and are) the dominant inhabitants of the Irrawaddy Basin during the Age of Commerce and who left lithic epigraphs inscribed in old “Burmese.”

1 2

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Mons of the coast, takes up the task Reid has reluctantly left, thereby giving a due account to the fragment of a total history. For the omission of the Tay, whose active involvement in the political economy of the Irrawaddy Basin during the first half of the Age of Commerce (corresponding to the late Ava and early Toungoo period in Burma) had significant implications for succeeding Burmese history, the scarcity of necessary sources, not the negligence of Reid, is the primary culprit. When he was preparing his two-volume work, Reid could not find fine referential materials he could rely on for a detailed description of how the Age of Commerce affected the interior of the western mainland, namely the kingdom of Ava and various Tay principalities that encircled the Burman polity to the northwest, north and east. This is due to the fact that the Ava period has been largely neglected by historians, thus “yet to see a single book-length monograph in English” (Aung-Thwin and Aung-Thwin: 2012: 107).3 Also less researched is the Tay encroachment on the Irrawaddy Basin in the late Ava period that ultimately led to the demise of the Burman capital.4 Therefore, the fall of Ava in 1527 to northern Tay forces, an epoch-making event in Burmese history, has not been adequately examined by scholars.5 Recently, however, the academic tendency has been gradually changing in a favorable way. Michael Aung-Thwin, the leading historian of early Burma based on epigraphic study, wrote a rare article on the Ava period, which is a brief summary of his “much larger manuscript on the narrative and institutional history of Ava and Pegu” (2011: 2). By its nature, therefore, his path-breaking work is not very informative on the Tay movement of the early 16th century.6 Probably we will have to wait for the publication of a full-length manuscript for a thorough account of the Tay takeover of the Burman capital. Aye Chan, another historian of Burma, provides a rare glimpse of the Ava period viewed from Tay perspectives (2006). As his essay covers a long This is despite (or because) “historical research on . . . Toungoo continued to receive more and more attention” (Aung-Thwin 2011: 2). The Ava period was neglected to the extent that “in a list of eighty-two master’s theses submitted to Rangoon and Mandalay Universities Faculty of Arts and Sciences before 1976, not a single one was on the Ava period” (Aung-Thwin 1998: 201). Of what little has been written, Tin Hla Thaw’s article (1959) mainly focuses on the genealogical reconstruction of the Avan kings, and only covers the years 1400–1500, thus leaving the fall of Ava untold. 4 Actually, history of the Tay as a whole has long been a neglected field, despite its significance in the history of mainland Southeast Asia, let alone Burma. Since the publication of GUBSS more than a century ago, only a handful of scholarly works in English on Tay history have been available, which include: Luce (1958); Daniels (2000; 2011); Fernquest (2005; 2006); Aye Chan (2007); Sun (2010b); and Kirigaya (2015a). Of these, the works by Fernquest, Aye Chan, and Sun are of direct relevance to this article, and thus shall be discussed (though briefly) below. 5 As its main analytical focus is on the long-term patterns and trends of Toungoo politics, Lieberman’s celebrated work understandably spends only a few lines, without detailed examination, on the fall of the preceding Avan dynasty (1984: 25). Another renowned study of Lieberman (2003), by its nature, also scarcely mentions the downfall of the Upper Burma capital. The Andayas’ more recent work (2015), a comprehensive study of Southeast Asia during the “early modern” period, does not give enough explanation to the fall of Ava either. 6 Moreover, he “see[s] Ava’s decline more as an Upper Myanmar affair,” dismissing the possibility that it was affected “by economic factors stemming from the age of commerce” (11). 3

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period of 260 years, however, the fall of Ava is only cursorily reflected, with little attention to the factors behind the Tay inroads. A synthesis of Burmese, Chinese, and Tai materials, Jon Fernquest’s wellresearched and documented article (MGNY) exactly corresponds to the period under discussion, i.e. the first half of the Age of Commerce, and extensively deals with Tay incursions into the Irrawaddy Basin, with a detailed description (probably the most detailed ever written in English) of the fall of Ava. Yet, as his study is “first and foremost a narrative history” (286), with its main focus on relating a story of the rise and expansion of Toungoo, analysis of the primary driving force behind the Tay inroads into the capital zone of Upper Burma is slightly off the theme of his article. Meanwhile, Sun Laichen, historian of Sino-Southeast Asian interactions, thoroughly examines a “gem fever” during the Ming, which was generated by the excessive import of precious stones from the Tay realm. He correctly emphasizes the overland economic impact of Ming China on the emergence and prominence of some Tay powers, and consequently, albeit briefly, on the decline and collapse of Ava (GEM: 187). However, as his study is featured in a collaborative work on the “China factor” in the transformation of Southeast Asian economy and politics in the 15th century, and exclusively discusses its overland impact, maritime commercial influences on the interior of the western mainland are not adequately taken into consideration. “Scholars of Southeast Asian history and Sino-Southeast Asian relations need to make a significant shift from a maritime to an overland perspective,” argues Sun Laichen convincingly, while rightly criticizing modern scholarship for the disproportionate emphasis on the external stimuli from the sea for explaining changes and developments in political patterns and trends of the region (2003: 495).7 However, the issue at hand is, to echo the late David K. Wyatt’s subtle observation (1999), a “perspective from the interior” on the booming seaborne trade has been largely neglected by scholars with “maritime mentality” (Sun 2003: 495), whose research dominantly deals with influences of oceanic trade on state formation and development along the Southeast Asian littoral. For a vivid and detailed description of the “total history,” it is indispensable to examine how and to what extent maritime commerce stimuli affected economic and political transformations of the interior western mainland. While overland impact from China on the Tay world was truly enormous, especially in the 15th century, maritime stimuli to the rise and southward expansion of inland Tay powers in the ensuing decades were never marginal, let alone ignorable. Katherine Bowie (1992) effectively unraveled the “myth of the subsistence economy” in a general picture of 19th century northern Thailand, or Lan Na (lit. One Million Rice Fields), denying its image as a homogenous, egalitarian, self-sufficient, non-market, and unchanging society.8 A similar assumption was widely held by an He also states, quite correctly, “The matter of maritime trade as an important and even crucial driving force for state formation in the precolonial period has been dealt with abundantly by historians of Southeast Asia” (GEM: 187). However, analysis of state formation exclusively focuses on polities directly exposed to seaborne contacts, while inland domains are virtually ignored, which this article attempts to discuss. 8 Actually, besides agricultural production, trade was another pillar of the economic base of Lan 7

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earlier generation of Burma scholars that the Tay were chiefly uncivilized, ricecultivating hill-dwellers, invading at will lowland Burman towns with prospects of booty and plunder, but with little commercial interest.9 However, control of trade, especially of overland Sino-India trade via the Tay country during the Pax Mongolica, was vital to the rapid rise to transregional paramountcy of Mäng Mao, which ultimately brought an end to the twin Upper Burma capitals, Pinya and Sagaing, in the mid-1360s (Kirigaya 2015a). The Mongol dynasty was replaced by the Ming, with which Tay regimes in the modern Sino-Burmese border region continued to maintain intense military, diplomatic and commercial intercourse throughout the 15th century.10 Then, around the turn of the century when the Burmese littoral was experiencing the Age of Commerce, the Tay made a “significant shift” from an overland to a maritime orientation in their political and commercial aspirations. The late David K. Wyatt, in the context of northern Thailand, stressed that the “upland interstices” such as Lan Na were “involved in the same sorts of global transformations as the major empires that surrounded [them]” (1999: 265).11 Its western neighbor, the highland Tay world, remotely connected to the Bay of Bengal by the “extraordinary navigable” Irrawaddy (AOC II: 54), was by no means immune to global trends from the sea. As the majority of products exported from Burmese seaports came from Upper Burma, primarily the Tay Hills that produced, first and foremost, rubies, plus other luxury goods, “there was necessarily a close link between maritime trade and interior districts” (DEIC: 120).12 Lieberman states: By the start of the sixteenth century, this commerce [centered at the Lower Burma coast] had three principal components. The Mon country supplied the increasingly important port of Malacca (as well as north Sumatra) with . . . a variety of luxury goods (rubies, sapphires, musk, lac, benzoin, gold) funneled to the Peguan coast from the interior . . . . A second line of commerce focused on West Asia and India, particularly the Coromandel Coast, Bengal and Gujarat. Merchants from these areas exchanged large quantities of Indian textiles for Burmese luxury products. (1984: 27).

Na, at least since the foundation of Chiang Mai in the late 13th century (Kirigaya 2015b: 288). 9 See Aung-Thwin’s sound criticism of the negative, “barbaric” image of the Tay deeply entrenched in the traditional historiography of Burma (1998: 136; cf. Lieberman 2003: 133). The negative image is ascribable, probably substantially, to the sacrilege - massacring 360 learned monks, pillaging numerous pagodas, and burning uncountable tipitaka, Buddhist manuscripts – ordered by Thohanbwa, “a full-blooded savage” (Harvey 1967: 107), who was enthroned at Ava when the Burman king was killed in 1527. 10 For intense Sino-Tay military exchanges during the 1440s, see Liew (2008) and Fernquest (2006). 11 In the inland Laotian context, Reid also confirms, “Even thus remote from the ocean ports the effect of the commercial boom was tangible” (AOC II: 55). 12 Lieberman remarks that “the Irrawaddy artery ensured that Lower Burma . . . remained indissolubly joined to the dry zone, and by extension, to the Shan country” (2003: 129). Meanwhile, AungThwin emphasizes (2011) a “symbiotic dualism” based on economic necessity between Upper and Lower Burma. He further adds the Tay Hills to the symbiotic relationship, making it a “tripartism” (7). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Therefore, “Any development of maritime trade necessarily implicated interior districts” (119), whence came most of these luxury goods.13 In line with these arguments, this article discusses how the Age of Commerce, habitually and primarily regarded as a maritime phenomenon, stimulated the political economy of the interior Tay world, with its implications for the downward thrust of the Tay onto the Irrawaddy Basin, which culminated in the fall of the Upper Burma capital in the midst of the Age of Commerce.

Some challenges to the Age of Commerce thesis Anthony Reid argues, “There was . . . a distinct lull in the seaborne trade for almost a century before 1370” (AOC II: 10),14 and then, the trade picked up again around 1400.15 Consequently, the year 1405 is singled out by Reid for the commencement of the Age of Commerce in Southeast Asia (12). The year commemorates the greatest event in the maritime history of China: the first dispatch of a huge Ming fleet commanded by Admiral Zheng He, a Muslim eunuch originally from Yunnan, to the seas of Southeast Asia and beyond. Dispatched seven times in total, mostly during the reign of Yongle (1403-1424), Chinese vessels reached as far as the coast of East Africa. The Ming fleet, by demonstrating its massive wealth and naval supremacy unrivaled by any native power at the time, secured the sea routes that connected China and the Middle East through Southeast Asia and India, which spurred maritime commerce across the Indian Ocean. The great expeditions also reorganized tributary relations between the Middle Kingdom and southern port-polities, which further facilitated the seaborne traffic between China and Southeast Asia.16 This overall picture, however, is challenged by John Miksic (2010). After carefully examining various archaeological sites of the 11th to the 15th century in maritime Southeast Asia, he denies the view that “Southeast Asia’s economic system change[d] rapidly as a result of the Zheng He voyages,” and observes that “despite superficial change, the underlying structure of Southeast Asian trade remained much the same over the 12th to 15th centuries” (385; 403).17 In other words, “There was no specific trade boom in Southeast Asia in the 15th century” (Wade 2010: 30). This conclusion, while plausible for the archipelago, cannot be easily applied to the western mainland, including the Burmese littoral. Again, Reid also remarks, “Inland trade . . . no doubt . . . received a great stimulus from the boom in seaborne trade during the age of commerce” (AOC II: 53). 14 For a criticism of the century-long slump, see Kirigaya (2015a: 252-4). 15 According to Reid (AOC II: 326), “The jump in the arrival of Malukan spice in the Mediterranean, the sending of massive Chinese fleets to Southeast Asia, and the beginning of large-scale pepper exports” were the chief indicators of the upturn. 16 The best beneficiary of the Chinese expeditions was Melaka, founded around 1400. Its first king, Parameswara, who had been continuously exposed to Ayutthaya military pressure from the north, successfully removed the Siamese aggression by establishing close diplomatic relations with Ming China when the fleets were sailing through the Straits (Taylor 1992: 175-6; Wang 1998: 320). Parameswara even paid a personal visit to the Ming court in 1411 (MSL Taizong: 1490). 17 See also Brown’s article (2010) in the same volume for a similar topic. 13

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Unlike Melaka and other coastal polities along the main east-west exchange route, Burmese ports were located off the major seaborne traffic between China and India via the Straits.18 The impact of the maritime “China factor” was thus not very tangible along the Burmese coast.19 Furthermore, the western mainland did not produce the main export item of the archipelago, pepper and spices, namely clove and nutmeg that brought the “biggest profits” and “lured merchants from the other side of the world” (AOC II: 2). As geoeconomically disadvantaged with its location off the east –west sea-lanes, the trade patterns and trends of “spiceless” Burma developed differently from, and rather independently of, the archipelago. Less affected by the archipelagic economic patterns, maritime Burma’s trade activities were traditionally more oriented toward a large commercial network centered on the Bay of Bengal, which connected the western mainland more to the Subcontinent.20 Another criticism of the Thesis comes from Victor Lieberman, who argues that “the heavy emphasis on maritime influences to explain local change tends to be reductionist and exaggerated” (1993: 478).21 He further points out, “Maritime commerce stimuli are presented as the prime mover, indeed the only significant impulse to change” (1995: 797), and concludes that “integration in the chief mainland states was never purely, and in many contexts not even primarily, a function of maritime commerce” (2003: 19). I am well aware of other possible factors that stimulated political transformations on the western mainland in the century c.1450-1550.22 Yet, I still find it crucial to examine seaborne stimuli to the active Tay involvement in Upper Burma affairs, as Lieberman himself admits, “After 1450 or 1500 . . . maritime trade seems to have become more critical to mainland development” (459). The interior of the western mainland, including the Burmese heartland and the surrounding Tay Highlands, was of course no exception to this trend, as Lieberman asserts, “Any development of maritime trade necessarily implicated interior districts” (1984: 119). Without “reductionist” perspectives and exaggeration of the role played by maritime commercial impulses, implications of the Age of Commerce for the incursive Tay movement should be properly discussed.

Thus, no visit by Ming ships to Burmese ports during the grand expeditions was recorded either in Burmese or Chinese literature. 19 Actually, even in the archipelagic context, “Southeast Asian trade with China is only one part of a much larger economy” (Miksic 2010: 389). 20 For the significant role of commercial connections with Indian Muslims in the booming trade of Arakan and Lower Burma ports in the first half of the 15th century, see Charney (1998). 21 Reid’s description of the inland Lao kingdom, “The golden age of King Surinyavongsa (1637– 1694) in Laos . . . was made possible by the expanding trade demands of the age of commerce,” is probably an example of reductionist observation (AOC II: 57; cf. 210). 22 Other than Lieberman, who refers to the heterogeneity in the impulses to political integration on the mainland, and to the fluidity and indeterminateness in their relations (2003: 199), Christian Daniels emphasizes the significance of the transfer of agricultural technology in the consolidation of several Tay polities (2000; 2010). 18

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Western Mainland – geoeconomic and historical setting Maritime trade had always been vital to the economy of the western mainland, especially coastal commercial towns, since early historic (if not prehistoric) times. While not much is known about early trade (and it is outside of the scope here) due to the paucity of archeological and textual data,23 historical accounts from Burmese records suggest an active Indo-Burma trade in the late 1360s when an Avan monarch “envied their southern counterparts’ monopoly on maritime customs and trade” to the extent that he “wistfully and quite inaccurately styled himself lord ‘of all the (maritime) harbors’” (Lieberman 1984: 23).24 Elsewhere and later, Ye, an old trading town down on the western coast of the Malay peninsula, was “reclaimed from jungle and opened” around 1438, while the ensuing decades witnessed an increase of foreign merchants who brought Indian cloths and an exceeding commercial prosperity to the coastal cities of Burma (26). According to Burmese and Mon chronicles, Ayutthaya attacked Martaban, a famous Mon port, and its neighboring areas around 1410 (UK II: 10; HMN II: 9-10; YT I: 288; YA: 275).25 This Siamese attack might have involved the destruction of Ye, located due west to the famous Three Pagodas Pass, so that the coastal town had to be “reclaimed from jungle” three decades later. A chronicle of Ayutthaya relates that during the reign of Ramathibodi II (c. 14901530), Muslim merchants from the Coromandel Coast (i.e. Kingdom of Vijayanagar) began to sail across the Bay of Bengal and visit Ayutthaya (probably via Tenasserim, an important transit station on the western coast of the Malay peninsula), whereby Indian textiles were imported to the Thai kingdom (Vliet 1975: 67).26 Meanwhile, Aung-Thwin, in his decisive work on Pagan, could scarcely examine the role of commercial activity in the kingdom’s economy, as “there is little contemporary evidence on external trade” (1985: 113). 24 Meanwhile, a Mon king of Pegu seems to have introduced himself, quite accurately, “Lord of Port” to the Chinese in 1406 (Chen 1970: 25). The Ava-Pegu war of the 1380s-1420s was partially fought for control over Lower Burma maritime harbors (cf. Lieberman 2003: 126; Harvey 1967: 90). Burmese chronicles claim that King Rajadhiraj of Pegu yielded maritime customs at Bassein to the Avan king in token of a marriage alliance (UK I: 419; HMN I: 468; Harvey 1967: 90). Mon chronicles are silent on this issue. 25 The YT and YA state that Martaban and Moulmein were attacked by Ayutthaya while UK and HMN claim it was Ye in Martaban’s territory that was under Thai attack. This Siamese invasion might have been derived from Thai ambition to dominate maritime trade on both sides of the Malay peninsula, which also pushed the Ayutthaya military southward down to Melaka at that time. The oldest surviving chronicle of Ayutthaya, compiled c. 1680, bears no information on this attack on the Burmese coastal cities. Instead, it refers to another Ayutthaya invasion in 1488 of Tavoy, a port-city on the western shore of the Peninsula, some 250 kilometers to the south of Martaban (LP: 8). Another Ayutthaya chronicle compiled in 1795 dates this attack to 1470, which corresponds to the one mentioned in a Mon chronicle (Cœm: 31: PMP: 34). 26 Van Vliet’s account should be chronologically inaccurate as, compared to Lower Burma, the coming of Indian Muslim traders to Ayutthaya that controlled port towns on the western coast of the Malay peninsula was too late. The Ayutthaya possession of, or close relationship with, Tenasserim is attested by the Burmese inscription of 1444, which states, “Ussa, son of the Ayuttaya lord of Tenasserim and grandson of the Lord of the White Elephant of Martaban, is crowned at Pegu” 23

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a chronicle of Vijayanagar refers to “tributary” missions from Pegu and Tenasserim during the reign of Deva Raya, c. 1419-1449 (Sewell 1970: 302, 404). The 1430s also witnessed the “rise of a mainland trading state,” Arakan, the fourth geoeconomic component of the western mainland, that benefited from trade connections with Muslim India (Charney 1998). Along the northeastern and eastern rim of the Bay of Bengal commercial exchanges were definitely active in the 15th century. Busy cities of coastal Burma attracted not only their ambitious Thai neighbors from the other side of the Peninsula, but also the landlocked kingdom of Ava to the north, who “envied their southern counterparts’ monopoly on maritime customs and trade” (Lieberman 1984: 23). Michael Aung-Thwin, whose path-breaking article (1996) effectively unraveled the “Myth of the Three Shan Brothers”27 and the “dark age paradigm” in the historiography of Ava, asserts, “Upper Burma throughout its precolonial history had little need for external trade” (1985: 114), and, “It was land and the labor [not trade] that were vital [to the state]” (115). He therefore emphasizes the agrarian aspect of Ava’s economic base, arguing, “Both the agrarian and maritime states [i.e. Ava and Pegu] needed each other in the most important ways” (2011: 4). He continues to remark, “This dualistic relationship was based on economic necessity, whereby luxury goods and other imported and maritime specialties were exchanged for the basic products of the interior, particularly rice” (4).28 Rice, along with “pulses (peanuts, soybeans, sesamum)” and “sugar (cane and palm) and other foodstuffs” (4), produced in and imported from Upper Burma, were vital to the diet of Lower Burma people.29 However, it was the rubies imported from Ava – “Burma’s greatest riches” (DIEC: 24), “sole merchandize [of Pegu]” (Varthema 1928: 82)30 – which were much sought after in the coastal cities to attract merchants from afar. While it would be partially true that “[Ava’s] concerns were . . . the maintenance of irrigation works and its cultivated lands” (Aung-Thwin 2011: 6), Avan leaders also paid close attention to the conditions and terms of trade with Lower Burma, as “the majority of Burma’s export products came from Upper Burma” (DIEC: 120).31 This is especially so when Ava was troubled with meager coffers. (SMK V: 35). A Siamese record (dated by David Wyatt to 1468) describes Tenasserim and Tavoy as tributaries of Ayutthaya (Kotmai I: 70; Wyatt 1967). 27 See also Aye Chan (2006) for a counterargument. 28 This may be another “myth of the subsistence economy” in the context of Upper Burma. 29 Actually, rice seemed readily and plentifully available in Lower Burma, as large quantities of rice were exported to Melaka (Pires 1944: 98). 30 John Huyghen van Linschoten, a late 16th century Dutch traveler, states, “Rubies, Safiers, and other stones . . . of the Countrie of Pegu are esteemed the finest, whereof there is great store . . . . daily brought out . . . into all places” (Linschoten 1883 I: 97; II: 140). According to other late 16th century descriptions (Frederici 1905: 128; Fitch 1905: 191), even merchants from Mecca, despite their loss from selling their commodities, such as wool, scarlet and velvet, to their Peguan counterparts, came to Pegu for trade, as they still gained huge profits by bringing home luxury articles, most of which were from the Tay realm. 31 Although Aung-Thwin properly includes “control over its precious stones and interior products” among Ava’s concerns (2011: 6), which clearly points to royal interest in commercial profits, he makes no further mention of Ava’s trade in gems and luxury commodities of Tay origins. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Like its predecessor, Pagan, Ava by its nature also suffered from the continuous flow of wealth to the sangha.32 For the “merit-path to salvation,” the primary social and political ideology of the state, a large area of Upper Burma’s cultivable land and a large labor force were donated to tax-free religious institutions, thereby severely eroding the economic and demographic resources of the kingdom. Faced with the serious devolution of royal wealth to the sangha, which was institutionally and structurally unavoidable in the state, it would have been very surprising if Avan leaders had not looked for an alternative source of revenue. They thus controlled, or perhaps monopolized, trade in rubies (and other valuable commodities).33 According to a contemporary, early 16th century description, “[valuable precious] stones and musk the King [of Ava] takes for himself, and they are sold to foreigners, who come hither to seek for them on his account” (Barbosa 1989: 159). It also describes Ava as an “exceeding great city . . . inhabited by wealthy merchants where there is much trade in valuable precious stones, rubies and spinels which are found there” (159). Commerce was undoubtedly flourishing in Ava, where, as in the 17th century, the king was the “chief merchant” (DEIC: 106), who deeply understood the importance of revenues derived from trade to compensate for his meager coffers.34 Ava, where “wealthy merchants” inhabited, and “much trade” in valuable commodities was conducted, was by no means the state that “had little need for external trade” (AungThwin 1985: 114). Trade indeed was vital, probably more so than land and the labor, to the political economy of Ava in its last decades.35 Intensively connected to this cosmopolitan trading center of Upper Burma was the Tay Hills, the third geoeconomic and political component of the western mainland.36 The hill regions functioned as military recruiting grounds for the lowland dry zone, and thus “when politically allied with Ava, they supplied valuable reinforcements in times of war” (Aung-Thwin 2011: 7). However, what connected both regions, hills and dry zone and further to Lower Burma, thus creating a tripartite relationship, was the supply of luxury commodities that were produced in the Tay Highlands, collected The following argument is based on Aung-Thwin (1985: 186-95; 2012: 113) and Lieberman (2003: 126-7). 33 They might have asserted a monopoly, as Nyaungyan Min, the founder of another dynasty centered at Ava, did a century later in 1600 (ROB I: 9). Actually, Lieberman states, “Agents of each local ruler [such as Ava, Prome, Toungoo, Pegu, and Martaban] normally sought to monopolize luxury exports and imports” (2003: 148). 34 Therefore, in the 1470s, the Avan king, who correctly evaluated the importance of commerce, requested the Ming to authorize Burman rule over Kaungzin and Mäng Yang (Mohnyin) to “control and benefit from the riverine and overland trade that past through those places” (GEM: 186; MSL Xianzong: 1810, 3436). Meanwhile, “Commercial revenues,” argues Lieberman (2003: 148), “facilitated . . . better control over patronage, and a gradual movement away from landed religious donations to cash donations . . . . [which] protected the tax base from erosion.” 35 Sun rather boldly concludes, “Without exaggerating the role of trade, we can say that Ava’s failure to control the overland trade with China contributed to its decline and final collapse” (GEM: 187). 36 To this must be added a fourth component, Arakan, which, however, is less relevant to this article, as the maritime kingdom was less closely connected to the Tay realm. For a detailed account of Arakan in the Age of Commerce, see Charney (1998; cf. Lieberman 2003: 128-9). 32

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at Ava, shipped downstream on the Irrawaddy artery to Lower Burma ports, and exported to Melaka as well as India and beyond.37 Not only southward to the maritime region (rather remotely), but also northeastward via the Yunnan Plateau to the Chinese world (far more closely), was the Tay realm connected.38 While it had been operational since time immemorial, the overland SinoTay trade after the founding of the Ming was largely conditioned by the “cottonhunger” in Yunnan and the “gem fever” in Beijing. As a result of the governmental migration policy, Yunnan’s population swelled hugely in the early Ming period,39 which consequently boosted the import of Indian textiles, finished Indian cottons, and Burmese raw cotton from Upper Burma (Lieberman 2003: 145). In addition, large quantities of gems were also procured by the Chinese, those officials especially assigned with this mission, and private traders (GEM: 172-5). In exchange for the commodities from the south, pony and mule caravans from the north led by Yunnan Muslims carried Chinese silks, utensils and bullion, to name a few, down to Bhamo, a riverine emporium located in the Sino-Tay-Burma border area (Lieberman 2003: 145; cf. AOC II: 53).40 These Chinese exports were then shipped downriver to Ava, and further to the coasts. The inland trade network was thus linked with two major outlets, the coast of Lower Burma and Yunnan of the Chinese southwestern frontier. With commercial stimuli from both the southern ocean and northeastern plateau, the interior world, a supplier of valuable export items, experienced an economic boom. Compared to the “murky beginnings” of the Age of Commerce that have been an issue among scholars (Sun 2010a: 67), the commencement of the economic boom in the interior could be roughly, if not clearly, dated, as the economic and political patterns of the region were largely transformed with the discovery of a single most important commercial product, rubies. Among luxury commodities of the interior, rubies, exclusively mined in the Tay principality of Mäng Mit, were the principal merchandise that lured the Chinese, who were seriously infected with “gem fever”, to the periphery of the vast empire, and seagoing foreign merchants to the shore of “spiceless” Burma. A local chronicle notes that Mäng Mit came to be known by the Chinese and Burmans Aung-Thwin remarks (2011: 8) that “although the ‘upstream-downstream’ relationship [between Ava and Pegu] was more important economically in the fifteenth century, in the long run, the political relationship between the dry zone and the hills may actually turn out to be more significant.” However, as already seen, the commercial relationship between the hills and the dry zone was as important as the one between Ava and Pegu. Note that, not only rubies and other luxury commodities, but also tea (pickled and dried) that was vital, only next to rice, to the diet of the people in the dry zone, was exclusively produced in the Hills. Tea trade with Ava must have been vital to the economy of those eastern Tay principalities without mines of ruby, jade, or amber. 38 Therefore Aung-Thwin describes (2011: 7) the Tay realm as the “conduit for new technology from China (such as firearms)”, with no mention of trade between the two. 39 “The vast majority (780,000 out of 800,000) were sent there [Yunnan] in the 1380s” (Sun 2010a: 68). 40 In the 17th century, “most of Burma-Yunnan trade was conducted” at Bhamo (DEIC: 176), whence “everything was carried overland on mules, ponies, and bullocks to the Chinese market places” (178). A brief description of Bhamo in the 1490s shall be given below. 37

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when ruby mines were discovered in its territory during the reign of Sänganpha, from 1414 to 1432 (MMY: 123). The chronicle account seems possible as late 14th and early 15th century Chinese records, generally known for their meticulous accounts of local specialties and curiosities, do not mention the ruby mines of Mäng Mit at all.41 Nicolo Conti, the first known European to visit Ava in the late 1430s or early 1440s, did not refer to rubies either (1974: 11-15), while Hieronimo di Santo Stefano heard of “Ava, in which grow rubies and many precious stones,” during his stay in Pegu in 1496-7 (1974: 5). Meanwhile, when King Dama-zei-di of Hanthawaddy (Pegu), with hopes of purify the Mon sangha, sent a group of monks to Ceylon in 1476 for an orthodox ordination, ruby rings were itemized on the list of gifts to the island king (Kalyani: 71). Finally, a Chinese historical account suggests that the rubies of Mäng Mit were known to the Chinese by the mid-1450s (GEM: 181). The local history of Mäng Mit, and Chinese as well as European records, roughly agree on the date of the discovery of Mäng Mit’s rubies, i.e. around 1450, which happened to correspond to the early years of the Age of Commerce (this is a mere coincidence, though), which was a major event in the history of the western mainland. Without a supply of rubies, the volume of oceanic trade in “spiceless” Burma would have been markedly less significant during the Age of Commerce. The year also corresponds (almost) to another turning point in the political history of the region. In 1449 the famous Sanzheng Luchuan (literally three punitive campaigns against Luchuan [Mäng Mao]) by the Ming that had begun in the 1430s finally ended with murky victory for the Chinese.42 The end of the “march toward the tropics” with a destructive consequence on the economic and military resources of Ming China would be immediately followed by the infamous Tumu Debacle, which “virtually destroyed imperial armies in the north and led to the capture of the emperor himself by the Mongols” (Wang 1998: 326). Therefore, the year 1449 was a “turning point in the history of the dynasty” (326), marking the “decline of the great Ming empire” (Liew 2008: 373), which led to the reshaping of Chinese policy toward the southwestern “barbarians,” from expedition to non-intervention, thereby bringing a decade of peace to the Sino-Burma-Tay borderlands.43 Lastly, in 1450 an Avan king sent Indian cloths as tribute to the Ming emperor for the first time (so far as the remaining Chinese sources tell) in Burmese history For example, the Baiyizhuan, written by a Ming envoy to Ava and Mäng Mao in the 1390s, has no mention of rubies among the notable products of the region, while listing other precious items, such as amber, gold, silver, and jade (Jiang 1980: 118). 42 For detailed, well-documented accounts of the campaign, see Liew (2008) and Fernquest (2006). 43 Therefore, when the lord of Sænwi (Hsenwi), who was attacked by his subordinates, asked for Chinese aid in 1457, the emperor rejected it, saying, “The barbarians were not invading our peripheral area, but vengefully killing each other” (LZ: 908). Furthermore, when the Lang Sang king, whose father and brothers were killed by the Vietnamese army that had devastated the Lao capital and even attempted to march to Lan Na, asked Chinese help for a retaliatory expedition in 1481, the emperor rejected it (LNCH: 63). Apparently, the Ming empire was not as great as it had been half a century earlier, when it conquered Vietnam. In the latter half of the 15th century, China concentrated more on preserving, rather than enlarging, its territory. 41

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(MSL Yingzong: 3957).44 The Indian textiles, the “essential item of exchange in the Southeast Asian area” (Andaya 1992: 355),45 and “the largest single item of import [to the area]” (Reid 1992: 470),46 were brought to Ava by Muslim and South Indian traders, or perhaps by Ayutthayan and Peguan merchants who, as witnessed in the early 16th century, sailed up the Irrawaddy (Barbosa 1918 II: 159; Pires 1944: 111). These ocean traders bothered to frequent the Upper Burma capital for luxury commodities, notably rubies and musk, from the Tay Hills. The sending of Indian cloths by the Avan monarch (overland via the Tay realm) to the Chinese emperor thus attests a structural change in trade patterns and an increase in the volume of Indian textiles imported to the landlocked kingdom, thus symbolizing a close tripartite relationship between the coastal, inland and highland sectors of the western mainland. All told, at present, the year 1450 seems to be an appropriate, albeit symbolical, date for the commencement of the Age of Commerce in the interior world.

The “China factor” in the 15th century Tay world Throughout the 15th century, the overland Ming impact via Yunnan was strongly felt in the Tay world, especially in those domains on the Sino-Burma-Tay frontier.47 The century can be evenly divided into two: the first half, roughly corresponding to 14001450, which saw an intensive intercourse, through exchange of goods and tribute, and incessant wars in the last decade, between Mäng Mao and Ming China; and the second half, during which Mäng Mit, the sole producer of rubies, rose to a regional prominence due to the enormous profits derived from the gem trade. Immediately after its conquest of Yunnan in the early 1380s, the last stand of the Mongol remnants, the Ming came into contact with the Tay, especially the Sä clan, descendents of Säkhanpha, the supreme lord of Mäng Mao that had brought an end to the twin capitals of Upper Burma, Pinya and Sagaing, in the mid-1360s.48 A few years after the ruler of Mäng Mao was appointed Pacification Commissioner by the Ming in 1382, the Sä lord made eastward incursions deep into the territory of Yunnan.49 The Sä invasive Lan Na, a landlocked kingdom centered at Chiang Mai, had already sent as tribute “red and white color western cotton cloth” to the Ming court in 1396 (LNCH: 100; MSL Taizu: 3532). This “western” cotton cloth most likely means the Indian type. 45 Gujarati textiles went “further East to be used in barter for obtaining the spices” (MeilinkRoelofsz 1962: 62). Not only with the Southeast Asians, the fabric was also “extremely popular with the Chinese,” who would pay “a hundred gold coins in the size of about one yard length and half-yard width” (Ray 1999: 43). 46 Dutch records from the 17th century reveal, “the volume of Burma’s textile imports [from India] was phenomenal,” and “much of the fabric was for . . . . everyday use by ordinary people” (DEIC: 3-4). 47 Therefore, in those principalities located far from the border region, such as Mäng Nai and Yawnghwe (Yönghui), Ming influence was far less tangible, and these Tay domains seldom figure in Chinese records. 48 The following account of the Mao relationship with the Ming in the first half of the 15th century is based on Jiang (1983: 235-60), Liew (2008), and Fernquest (2005: 39-66). 49 As stated above, the population of Yunnan swelled hugely in the 1380s, as a result of the mass 44

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movement was finally pacified by the Chinese in 1388, thereby establishing a tributary relationship between the southwestern “barbarians” and the Middle Kingdom.50 In the late 1390s, a rebel general of Mäng Mao repeated an invasive movement into western Yunnan, which was pacified again by the Ming soon afterward. Thereafter the MingMao relationship was peaceful for decades, based on regular gift-tribute exchange. In 1427 the Ming garrison troops were expelled from Vietnam, which they had ruled since 1407. The disastrous Chinese defeat on the other side of the mainland unintentionally revealed that “the Ming court was in no condition to fight on the Yunnan border” (Wang 1998: 325), thus activating the age-old expansionist policy of the Sä clan. While maintaining a “friendly” relationship with the Ming on the surface (Jiang 1983: 248), Mao troops attacked neighboring Tay domains, which had been lost to them when the Ming carved up Mao territory to set up several native administrations in the early 1400s. Then, finally in the late 1430s, they ventured upon an eastward incursion into Chinese territory, which would provoke Ming counterattacks and eventually lead to the Sanzheng Luchuan, a series of large-scale battles fought between Ming, Mao, other Tay and Burman armies throughout the 1440s.51 During the war, the leader of the Sä clan died and his sons and family, from the country of their origins, fled downhill across the Irrawaddy River to Mäng Yang (Mohnyin), which would become their new homeland. In the end, a peace pact was concluded between the Chinese commander and the new Mao lord. A stone tablet to mark the boundary was erected, which stated, “Not before the stone is rotten and the river has dried up are you all allowed to cross [the Irrawaddy]” (Liew 2008: 365). Thereafter, the House of Sä would confine itself to the west of the Irrawaddy for nearly a half century, rather surprisingly very faithful to the vow.52 Indeed, not only the Sä clan, but other Tay powers also attempted very few, if any, incursions into Yunnan after 1450. migration of the Han population into the southwestern corner of the empire. The rapid and grand demographic change in the neighboring region was a likely cause of the Sä invasion into Chinese territory. 50 Actually, the Sä clan did not give up its expansionist policy; they simply turned the direction of expedition from the east, Yunnan, to the south, Upper Burma. As a result, according to a Chinese account, the Avan king complained about Mao incursions into his territory and asked for Ming intervention, whereby Chinese envoys who left valuable first-hand records of the Tay, the Baiyizhuan, were sent to Ava and Mäng Mao in the late 1390s (Jiang 1980: 127). 51 Although it has been historically called the Sanzheng Luchuan [Three Punitive Campaigns against Luchuan (Mäng Mao)], actually “there were four campaigns launched” (Liew 2008: 370). William Atwell associates the Mao insurrection with the “great depression” on a global scale in the mid-15th century, which was caused by climatic changes, natural disasters, and notably, a silver contraction due to the shutdown of Chinese silver mines by the Ming (2002: 98n). This is fairly possible, as overland Sino-India trade of Yunnan silver via Mäng Mao was one of the main economic sources of the Sä clan (cf. Kirigaya 2015a: 255-6). Furthermore, as observed by the Ming envoys in the late 1390s, silver was the key medium of transaction in the Tay world (Jiang 1980: 78). Desperately in need of silver, the Sä clan made incursions into Chinese territory to take over Yunnanese mines that had been closed by the Ming in the 1430s. 52 The Sä leaders probably came to realize that they might not lose, but could never win nor gain a piece of land from China, as they were no match for the superior Ming military. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Replacing the Sä clan now deported deep into the upper Irrawaddy area, the royal house of Mäng Mit would grow in geoeconomic and political importance and figure dominantly in the Chinese historical record on the Tay world.53 While a local chronicle of Mäng Mit dates its foundation to time immemorial (MMY: 72), the ruby-producing domain began to attract Chinese attention in the 1450s,54 when a Ming eunuch, in search of gems, secretly supported Nang Hannong, the queen of Mäng Mit, in her attempt to obtain Chinese endorsement for an independence from Sënwi (Hsenwi), the “largest Pacification Commission in the early Ming” (GEM: 180-1).55 As this story suggests, the sudden emergence and prominence of Mäng Mit is undoubtedly ascribable to the wealth derived from gem trade. With huge profits from “treasure mines,” Nang Hannong set out on a series of incursions into neighboring Tay domains, while successfully bribing Ming court officials to avert a punitive expedition and to establish an independent Pacification Office (Anfusi) at Mäng Mit in 1484. The profit from rubies also enabled Mäng Mit to smuggle Chinese-style firearms and attract mercenaries, native and Chinese.56 Therefore, expansionary warfare could be relentlessly carried out throughout the 1480s and into the early 1490s, which virtually forced the once powerful Tay polity of Sënwi into extinction. Finally in 1494 a Ming punitive expedition was dispatched with reinforcements from Mäng Wan (Longchuan), Mäng Ti (Nandian), and Mäng Na (Ganyu), and further joined by a Mäng Yang force. For the first time since the end of the Sanzheng Luchuan in 1449, did Mäng Yang troops venture upon an eastbound march across the Irrawaddy (MSL Xiaozong: 2608-13).57 The combined forces then laid siege to Bhamo, an important The following account of Mäng Mit basically follows GEM (179-83). To reiterate, the MMY notes (123) that Mäng Mit came to be known by the Chinese and Burmans when ruby mines were discovered in its territory during the reign of Sänganpha (1414-1432). 55 Accounts about this royal lady are found in both Chinese and Tay records, including chronicles of Sënwi and Ungpöng (better known as Sipö/Hsipaw), while MMY bears no information. Her story in the Sënwi chronicle has it that Nang Hannong (Nang Khamhung in Tay) was a daughter of the Sënwi caopha (lit. lord of the sky; sawbwa in Burmese) and married Säwaypha, possibly caopha of Sipö (Camyi 1959: 38; Renoo 2007: 319-25). The account of Nang Khamhung in the Sënwi chronicle basically agrees with the Chinese source, except Säwaypha was a “tribal headman of Mäng Mit,” then under the control of Sënwi (MS: 8146). Meanwhile the Ungpöng chronicle describes her as a daughter of the Lord of Loi Long, or Tawng Peng, and as a queen of the Sipö caopha, Säcömpha (r.1487-1539) (Mu 1948: 18a). Both Tay chronicles agree that Nang Khamhung belonged to the ruling house of Sipö. According to the Ungpöng chronicle (10b), the city of Mäng Mit was originally established by a Sipö king as a second capital during the cold season. No reference to this relationship can be found in the MMY that claims a long genealogy of Mäng Mit sovereigns. 56 In 1480 the Ming government had already issued a ban on trade between imperial subjects in southwestern Yunnan and native “barbarians,” in which the former exchanged contraband, such as weapons and gunpowder, with gems (MSL Xianzong: 3491-2). This ban does not seem to have been very effective, as similar bans and reports were followed in 1491, 1499, and 1506 (MSL Xiaozong: 1013-4, 2722-4; Wuzong: 312). 57 The MSL is a mine of information on the history of Southeast Asia as a whole, let alone Tay polities. Those without access to it or knowledge of Classical Chinese should consult Geoff Wade’s English translation ubiquitously available on the Internet (2005). 53 54

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foothold of Mäng Mit for the riverine traffic on the Irrawaddy. Mäng Yang seized and controlled the emporium until the early 1500s.58 Thereafter, toward the end of the 1490s, Mäng Mit’s power and influence were “gradually waning” (MSL Xiaozong: 2738).59 The city of Bhamo and its vicinity had been contested since the early 1470s by several powers, such as Sënwi, Mäng Wan, Mäng Mit, Mäng Yang, and Ava, in the quest for its commercial prosperity.60 A Chinese record of 1503 retrospectively states that Bhamo and its environs had originally belonged to Sënwi, and then during the Zhenghua reign period (1465-1487), Mäng Mit annexed the area (MSL Xiaozong: 3591). Meanwhile a local history of Bhamo tells that the city had been governed by ministers appointed by and sent from Mäng Mit from 1202 until 1470, when it finally became a semi-autonomous domain as the lord of Mäng Mit enfeoffed it to his son (Elias: 58).61 These accounts suggest that the area around Bhamo, blessed with the intensifying Sino-Burma-Tay trade, experienced economic growth at the time. Then, toward the end of the 15th century, Mäng Yang came to occupy Bhamo, either in 1494 or 1497, as we have seen above (MSL Xiaozong: 2723, 3591).62 While few mentions of Kaungzin are found in the Chinese literature after the 1480s, Bhamo first registered in a Ming document in 1499, when a Chinese official reported, “Nowhere else can compare with it [Bhamo and its environs] in terms of its profits from trade” (GEM: 186), and, “This is why Silu [caopha of Mäng Yang] does not withdraw [from Bhamo despite our] repeated conciliatory attempts” (MSL Xiaozong: 2723). The same official also noted, “All the utensils needed by the foreign countries come from there [Bhamo],” and, “Many fugitives from Jiangxi and Dali in Yunnan flee there” (GEM: 186). Therefore, the replacement of Kaungzin by Bhamo in the MSL entries from this period on probably derives from the increasingly important This is the first mention of Bhamo by the contemporary Chinese (and Burmese) record. Bhamo, Manmö (or Wanmö) in Tay (lit. Village of Pot), “implies that it was originally a potter’s village” (GUBSS, pt. II, v. I: 56). For a detailed account of the 1494 battle, see MGNY (313-6). 59 The deaths of Nang Hannong in the early 1490s (at the latest) and Sidie in the late 1490s (at the latest), which invited succession conflicts in the ruling house of Mäng Mit, were responsible for the decline. 60 The vicinity includes Kaungzin, “one mile west of Bhamo,” a small village in the late 19th century (GUBSS, pt II, v. I: 68). G. H. Luce, however, questions this location and instead locates it near Kaungton, a little down the Irrawaddy from Bhamo (1959: 49). In either case, Bhamo and Kaungzin were neighbors. Ever since its first appearance in the Burmese epigraphy in 1237, the strategic importance of Kaungzin, with its location on the Sino-Burma frontier, had been recognized by the Pagan monarch who entrusted the city to the highest official, Maha-saman-kri (Luce 1959: 49; SMK III: 92). 61 Although the historical accuracy of the local account is, as always, rather questionable, this story is similar to the one told in a 17th century Chinese record (Gu 1966, v. 32: 9b) that relates that Bhamo had been originally a part of Mäng Mit, then its chief grew stronger and became an autonomous power. Burmese chronicles, in a passage referring to an episode in 1511, say that Bhamo was a district of Sipö, to which a Mäng Yang army laid siege in retaliation for Sipö’s alliance with Ava (UK II: 116; HMN II: 126). 62 The record of 1499 dates Mäng Yang’s occupation of Bhamo to 1494, while that of 1503 dates it to 1497. 58

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role of Bhamo as a supplier of utensils, certainly including “pots,” for the increasing population of the region. Not only criminals, but even some Chinese agents, sent by the Yunnan government to reprimand the “barbarians,” plotted to make profits by trading contraband and leaking intelligence, and one ended up becoming the right-hand man of the native ruler (MSL Xiaozong: 2723). Similar cases of illicit trade between imperial officials and the natives at Tengchong, a garrison town on the frontier, were reported in 1480 and 1491, in which even firearms were allegedly smuggled (MSL Xianzong: 3491; Xiaozong: 1018). Despite these repeated imperial bans on illegal traffic, the trend continued, though not in Tengchong but in Bhamo. In the last resort, a Chinese official proposed direct imperial rule over Bhamo by transferring the gubernatorial office from Tengchong down to Bhamo (MSL Xiaozong: 2723).63 Indeed, with its “incomparable profits from trade,” the riverine city, “where ‘land routes and waterways converge’” (GEM: 186), was flourishing and attractive to all the parties concerned. In the first years of the 16th century Mäng Yang was still occupying Bhamo. Yunnanese officials on the front proposed, twice, in 1501 and 1502, to form an alliance with “barbarian” forces from Ava, Mäng Mit, Mäng Na (Ganyu), Mäng Ti (Nandian), and Mäng Wan (Longchuan) for a joint campaign against Mäng Yang (MSL Xiaozong: 3036, 3259-60).64 Both proposals were rejected by the central government, as it was reluctant to engage in total warfare with a powerful barbarian domain in the remote corner of the empire.65 Therefore, diplomatic measures were taken to conciliate the Sä lord of Mäng Yang to call off the garrison at Bhamo. The Chinese attempt somehow succeeded in 1503, because Mäng Yang was beginning to turn its military direction away from the riverine city to the heartland of Burma, thus “now encroaching more upon Ava’s territories” (GEM: 185).66 Consequently, the end of the confrontation over Bhamo did not bring peace to the Sino-Burma-Tay borderlands, but rather began an era of tumult that involved several Tay powers waging war on, or allying with, Ava.67 It also marked the end of Chinese involvement, military and diplomatic, in southwestern “barbarian” affairs, which is partially due to the change in imperial foreign policy. As Ming China “had lost interest in tributary missions as instrument of control” (Wang 1998: 324) by the time of the Zhengde reign (1506-1521), the number of tribute missions sent from the countries of Southeast Asia, including those of the A similar proposal was made in 1503 to fill the power vacuum left by the withdrawal of Mäng Yang troops from Bhamo (MSL Xiaozong: 3592). 64 One of the Chinese military plans was aimed at a simultaneous march to Mäng Yang: Avan troops proceeding northward via Myedu to Tingzhang (Htihkyaing) on the western frontier; and Mäng Mit forces taking Bhamo on the eastern frontier. 65 The officially stated reason was that Mäng Yang had yet to trespass across the imperial boundary, and still maintained its admiration for the Middle Kingdom. 66 Fernquest, too, concludes (MGNY: 318), “Warfare [with the Ming] drops sharply from this point [1503] on and warfare to the south against Ava starts to become more important.” 67 Chinese records describe the region at the time, “Various native chiefs advance and retreat in diverse and confusing ways” (Ming Shi: 8148), and “Various barbarians, such as Mäng Yang, Ava, Mäng Mit, Sënwi, and Mäng Nai, are vengefully killing each other” (MSL Wuzong: 808). 63

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western mainland, rapidly decreased. This is reflected in the sharp contrast between the amount of MSL materials on Southeast Asia before and after 1503 (324n).68 Therefore, a Chinese record of 1508 reported that currently neither Ava nor Tay lords were sending tribute though regulated to once in three years (MSL Wuzong: 993).69 Parallel to the decreasing Sino-Tay diplomatic contact, frontier official posts assigned the mission to procure gems from the Tay realm were eventually abolished in Tengchong and the capital of Yunnan (GEM: 172-3; MGNY: 317-8). What led to this decision to return to the former non-interventionist policy and the rapid decrease in Chinese interest in tributary mission is not exactly known.70 Yet, one thing is clear: “Before 1503, there was endemic warfare [between the Ming forces and those of Tay] and after that there is hardly any ” (MGNY: 310). As China was undergoing a major transformation from the late 15th century, the Middle Kingdom of the early 16th century was no longer what it had been a century earlier when most countries of Southeast Asia frequently sent tribute. The “China factor” that had the major impact on the 15th century Tay world would become less tangible in the following century.71 The acknowledgement of Chinese authority and centrality by Tay powers on the imperial periphery, expressed symbolically and nominally in the tributary relationship, was becoming increasingly weaker and, to some extent, irrelevant to the regional context. There certainly was a “significant shift” from an overland to lowland, or even maritime orientation, in the political and commercial aspirations of the Tay.72 Drawing strength from a century of intensive military and commercial contact with Ming China, the Tay had now grown confident and powerful enough to openly challenge Burman supremacy in the central valleys of the Irrawaddy.

For example, LZ spends on Tay and Burma affairs some eighteen pages for the years 1480-1503, while only three pages for the period 1504-1530 (910-32; cf. MGNY: 310-11). 69 A century earlier, in the first decade of the 15th century, southwestern “barbarian” lords, especially the caopha of Sënwi, sent tribute almost every year to the Yongle emperor, who “knew that most tribute missions would not come to China if there were no profits to be made,” and thus “had to make these missions worthwhile” (Wang 1998: 320). By the beginning of the 16th century, tribute missions had become unprofitable, as the imperial coffers, now far smaller than a century earlier, could not afford to make them worthwhile. 70 Atwell notes (2002: 102), “Observers at the time and modern scholars have seen the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries as a time of profound economic, social, and cultural change in China.” Those profound changes Ming China was experiencing probably affected the imperial decision. In addition, as seen above, the meager imperial coffers did not allow the court to prepare luxurious return gifts to tribute missions. 71 While the official involvement, diplomatic and military, of Ming China in the southwestern “barbarian” affairs came to an end, at a local level interactions between the natives and Chinese probably continued to increase throughout the 16th century, as a result of the mass migration of the Han population into Yunnan, further down to Bhamo. 72 As successors to the Burman kings of Ava whose “economic interests . . . became increasingly oriented toward the coast” (Lieberman 1984: 28), Tay leaders also inherited this orientation, as shown below. 68

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Tay encroachments into the Irrawaddy Basin By the early 16th century, the influence of oceanic trade had deeply penetrated into the interior world to the extent that a Chinese monograph on Yunnan compiled in 1510 lists pepper (with refined tin) as one of the two famed local produce of Sënwi, a highland Tay country far from the coast blessed with the Age of Commerce (Zhou 1990, v. 14: 3a).73 Pepper, not grown in Sënwi, was one of the commodities foreign merchants shipped to Ava (Pires 1944: 111), whence it was brought to the Tay Hills by native peddlers. The Chinese account suggests that Sënwi imported a large amount of pepper. Meanwhile, Ava at the time was an “exceeding great city . . . inhabited by wealthy merchants where there is much trade in valuable precious stones, rubies and spinels” (Barbosa 1918: 159). It was this flourishing capital of Upper Burma which Caolong,74 the lord of Mäng Yang, was advancing on in the first decades of the 16th century. Mäng Yang had at least two military advantages over Ava: its easy access to Chinese firearms and mercenaries. As seen above, imperial bans on the smuggling of China-made firearms, more advanced than those of the Indian Ocean type employed in Upper Burma at the time, were recorded in the 1490s (MSL Xiaozong: 1018, 2723).75 Furthermore, with weapons came Chinese officials and criminals, who became the Tay lord’s advisors and soldiers. With human and material reinforcements from China,76 an interior upland polity with the limited demographic and technological base would eventually win over its counterpart of the extensive lowland river valleys. Although no source, Burmese, Chinese, or Tay, specifies motives behind Mäng Yang’s southward incursion into Ava’s territory, it was primarily affected by commercial factors derived from the Age of Commerce.77 In as much as Bhamo’s “incomparable Likewise, “white wool cloth” and “big cloth of Indian Ocean [probably made of cotton],” both being imports, are referred to as the local product of Ava in the same monograph and the late 16th century one (Zhou 1990, v. 14: 4b; XNY: 64a). 74 He is called “Silu” in Chinese, and “Salon” in Burmese. As chroniclers of Burma use “sa” in stead of “tha,” his Tay name should be Cao Long (lit. Great Lord), not Sä Long (lit. Great Tiger). 75 Mongol-derived gunpowder technology had already been introduced to the Tay world in the late 13th century (Kirigaya 2015a: 245). Ming-made firearms were brought to the region in the late 1390s (Sun 2003: 501; MSL Hongwu: 3679). 76 In that sense, through private interactions, the “China factor” was still at work in the Tay world. 77 It is not very likely that the Tay encroachment into the Irrawaddy Basin was a continuation of an earlier “general southward movement of Tai-speaking peoples” (Lieberman 1984: 25). Historically, they also made incursions westward into Assam and eastward (backward?) into Yunnan. In any case, the “theory of a Tai Southern Advance” (Fernquest 2006: 31) does not help explain the dynamism of the Tay encroachment into the Burmese heartland, merely reducing it to the nature of a hill people. Actually, the theory is intimately and exclusively associated with a perspective from Bangkok, the city of maritime commerce and the capital of a nation-state founded by the Thai, the only Tai-speaking people who made a centuries-long southern advance all the way down to the seashore. Meanwhile, Fernquest raises three possible explanations of the Tay encroachment, including control of trade routes (MGNY: 354-6). However, as “there is always the danger that historical speculation based on thin evidence is mistaken for historical fact” (356), he refrains from exploring the issue. 73

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profits from trade” attracted Caolong, who neglected repeated Chinese admonitions to withdraw his garrison troops,78 it must have been Ava’s exceeding wealth derived from “much trade in valuable precious stones” that redirected the focus of the Mäng Yang army onto the Irrawaddy Basin. As “maritime wealth [of Lower Burma] was the chief lure” for the kings of landlocked Toungoo to seize Pegu (Lieberman 2003: 151),79 so was that of Ava for a lord of the highland principality. Commercial motives for the southern campaign are reflected in the grand design of the military expedition to, and political domination over, Ava by Mäng Yang, as shown below. In 1524, after the conquest of Myedu, the “northern garrison town . . . that guarded the important irrigation districts in the Mu river valley to the north of Ava” (MGNY: 292), the victorious Mäng Yang army marched down to Sagaing, the old Burman capital once plundered by Caolong’s legendary ancestor some 160 years earlier.80 Sagaing was easily taken and, according to the chronicle account, temples and houses were burnt down by the northern Tay. As the old capital was barely separated from Ava by the Irrawaddy, Caolong, just like his glorious ancestor, could have immediately crossed the river to mount a final assault on, or lay siege to Ava. However, the caopha of Mäng Yang decided to make a further southward march, taking the land route along the right bank of the Irrawaddy. He subdued town after town, more than ten in total, almost without exchanging fire until he reached a stockade near Prome. Faced with a large army with superior firearms, Thado-minsaw, lord of Prome, had little choice but to ally himself with, or more precisely became subject to, his Tay counterpart.81 Caolong and Thadominsaw together advanced on Ava, which they took with relative ease in 1525. Then, According to a Ming report, Mäng Yang, prohibited by the Chinese to cross the Irrawaddy eastward, began to reveal its aspiration to seize Kaungzin (hence profits from riverine trade) in the late 1470s (MSL Xianzong: 3436). This move was affected to some extent by the decrease in the volume of Sino-India trade via the territory of Mäng Yang. In addition to the rapid increase in “China’s trade with the Middle East and the Mediterranean after about 1470” (Atwell 2002: 102), which must have changed patterns and trends in overland trade with India, the decrease was also caused by the decline of Yunnanese silver supply. The Ming Shi (1971), quoting an official report of 1500, states, “Among nine silver mines in Yunnan, four have long been exhausted.” Not only the key exchange medium in the Tay world, silver was also the primary export item to Bengal from Yunnan (Deyell 1983; Bing 2004: 301-4). Mäng Yang desperately needed an alternate source of commercial revenue, which led to the aspiration for Kaungzin, and ultimately to the occupation of Bhamo in the 1490s. Fernquest also points out the decrease in the volume of Sino-Tay trade, which “reduced the value to the Shans of occupying trade entrepots such as Bhamo” (MGNY: 317). 79 Similarly, the Aung-Thwins remark (2012: 134), “The ‘Age of Commerce’ in Southeast Asia was an important factor in Toungoo’s initial decision for moving to Lower Myanmar, establishing Pegu as its capital.” 80 Note that Mäng Yang had yet to lose interest in Bhamo as the northern Tay troops laid siege to the riverine city while fighting Burman forces on the southern front at the entrance of the Mu River valley in 1511. According to Burmese chronicles (UK II: 116; HMN II: 126), Bhamo was a district of Sipö, a “steadfast ally of Ava” (MGNY: 298). The following story of Mäng Yang’s southern march and seizure of Ava with its aftermath is based on the UK (II: 120-34) and HMN (II: 129-40), unless otherwise noted. See also MGNY (336-48) for a relevant, detailed account. 81 According to the chronicle (UK II: 121; cf. MGNY: 336), Caolong and Thado-minsaw agreed that the former would only take good horses and elephants as prizes of war while the latter the throne upon the conquest of Ava. 78

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as previously promised, the lord of Prome was placed on the Avan throne, and Caolong rounded up good horses and elephants and headed home. Soon afterward (three days after the departure of Caolong), however, Thado-minsaw left Ava for Prome for unclear reasons, and the ex-Avan king, helped by the caopha of Sipö, immediately returned to fill the power vacuum. Consequently, Caolong had to repeat a long expedition down to the Irrawaddy Basin, and again conquered Ava, where he crowned his son, Thohanbwa in 1527.82 The long southward march by Mäng Yang troops through the Central Plain to Prome, far from their home in the northern highlands, was the southernmost campaign the Tay had ever known. An intermediary riverine port-city,83 Prome was, from an Upper Burma perspective, the gateway to Lower Burma seaports, especially Bassein in the Irrawaddy Delta, as well as to “Arakan (thence to the Bay of Bengal)” (AungThwin and Aung-Thwin 2012: 131).84 With the middle reaches of the Irrawaddy between Sagaing and Prome under control, therefore, Caolong secured dominance over the vital riverine traffic and, by extension, access to the Bay of Bengal via Arakan and Lower Burma.85 Furthermore, he effectively blockaded Ava, an emporium on the Irrawaddy, thereby detaching the Burman capital from the commercial network centered at the coast that brought firearms of Indian Ocean type, and from military assistance of other Burman towns located to the west of the Irrawaddy.86 The long campaign along the main artery of the western mainland was thus strategically well designed and indeed very successful in eroding the economic and military bases of the Upper Burma capital.87 The victorious, long southward march to Prome by the Mäng Yang troops clearly reflects Caolong’s prospects of commercial and political relations The Zatadawpon-yazawin (41), “the second oldest chronicle of Burma that has survived” (AungThwin 1998: 169n), refers to Caolong, instead of his son, Thohanbwa, as a ruler of Ava from 1526/27-1541/42, while later chronicles, UK and HMN, claim it was Thohanbwa who assumed the Avan throne. I follow the UK and HMN. 83 About a century later, the VOC established one of its four Burma factories at Prome, a “key town on the Irrawaddy and an important center for timber and planks” (DEIC: 88). 84 Arakan’s relationship, by land and water, with the cities along the Irrawaddy must have been fairly intimate, as Pires mistook Ava for a city of Arakan (1944: 96). “Two principal overland routes through the Arakan Yoma are the Taunggup and the Am passes” (Raymond 1999: 90). The former route connected Prome with Arakanese ports on the Bay of Bengal. When Nicolo Conti visited Ava in the 1430s, he followed one of these passes from Arakan. Given his one-month journey by boat to Ava, he perhaps set sail from Prome up the Irrawaddy (Conti 1974: 10-11). Bassein was described by Pires as a major Mon port, along with Dagon and Martaban, open to Indian Ocean commerce (1944: 97-8). 85 To reiterate, the long march to Prome was never spurred by the historical southward movement of the Tay. 86 Caolong, who agreed to cede the throne of Ava to Thado-minsaw, might well have been watchful of a possible Arakan-Prome, or Pegu-Prome alliance for the rescue of, or conquest of Ava, as these powers shared commercial interests in the gem trade with Upper Burma. A decade later, when the military strength of Toungoo grew truly threatening to the neighboring states, these alliances became a realistic option. 87 So effective and impressive was the operation, it would be followed, in a reverse direction, by Toungoo dynasts decades later. 82

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with the regions below, and his good understanding of the geopolitical configuration of Burma.88 This is rather surprising given his northern highland origin. With the accumulation of commercial intelligence, a ruler of the deep interior country became familiar with the affairs of Upper and Lower Burma, and beyond. Caolong’s second expedition to Prome in 1532, itself revealing his adherence to the riverine port-city, also suggests the concerns of the northern Tay lord with trade. Burmese chronicles imply that Caolong advanced to Prome to punish its lord, successor to Thado-minsaw, for the disloyalty of his predecessor who broke his word to carry out his duty for Caolong. The veracity of this story is questionable, as Thado-minsaw’s betrayal, withdrawal from Ava without permission from Caolong, had taken place seven years earlier, and he had been dead for five years. The motive of the sudden attack on Prome must have lain elsewhere. Since the new lord of Prome, realizing that his troops were no match for the northern Tay counterparts, immediately surrendered to Caolong, Prome had little intention or capacity to militarily threaten Ava. The most effective way available for Prome, a bottleneck on the Irrawaddy, to irritate Ava was to deny it access to Lower Burma and Arakan, as Prome would actually attempt in the first years of the 17th century (Lieberman 1984: 59-60). The decline of imports, especially Indian textiles highly in demand by the people of Upper Burma and the Tay Highlands alike, was the likely cause for the punitive expedition against Prome.89 Caolong’s orientation toward commerce is also indicated in his attempt at permanent occupation of the throne of the Dry Zone,90 an unprecedented act in Tay history.91 Establishing political control over the “heartland” of Burma was an Southward orientation of the northern Tay is also reflected in the change of Chinese description of Mäng Yang’s realm. A mid-17th century Chinese record states that to the south the territory of Mäng Yang reaches the boundary of Masa (Manipur or Mizoram?), connected to the Western Ocean, i.e. Indian Ocean (Gu 1966 v. 32: 4b). Meanwhile, the Yunnan Zhi, monograph on Yunnan compiled around 1510, well before Caolong’s annexation of Ava, simply relates that the southern boundary of Mäng Yang touches upon Mian (Burma), with no reference to its connection with the maritime region (Zhou 1990 v. 14: 3a). 89 When denied access by Prome to Lower Burma, Nyaungyan Min, the king of Ava, “ordered the construction of roads across the mountains to Arakan . . . so that . . . Ava could obtain ‘high-quality textiles from lands across the ocean’” (Lieberman 1984: 60). Lieberman adds (60n), “Presumably Nyaungyan Min’s imports were sold through a royal monopoly and/or used within the court.” Contrary to the Burman practice, Caolong probably did not monopolize trade, as shown below. Meanwhile, among gifts of gratitude from the Burman king to the caopha of Sipö for his support in the defense of Ava in 1525, and among tributary and apologetic gifts from two lords of Prome, Thado-minsaw and his successor, to Caolong in 1525 and 1532, foreign-made fabrics were the primary (actually almost only) item to be listed (UK II: 121, 126, 133; HMN II: 130, 134, 140). “High-quality textiles” from abroad were highly valued by the Tay. 90 As stated above, according to chronicles, Caolong told Thado-minsaw that he would be content to only take good horses and elephants, while ceding the Avan throne to the lord of Prome. However, the historical veracity of this episode is again rather dubious, as it raises the question of what the second attack on already pillaged Ava where Caolong enthroned his own son was for. It is hardly believable that all those battles fought by Caolong were only for war animals. A reasonable surmise would be that Caolong wanted his protégé on the Avan throne to control the capital area politically and commercially. 91 Caolong’s celebrated ancestor, who sacked the twin Burman capitals in the 1360s, returned to his 88

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inevitable task for the northern Tay to maintain safe, smooth traffic of the Irrawaddy, which was a prerequisite for controlling terms of trade with regions downriver to the coast and upriver to Bhamo and beyond, including Mäng Yang itself. Caolong may well have allowed foreign ships to sail up the Irrawaddy beyond Ava, thereby letting a free flow of imported commodities, particularly “high-quality textiles from lands across the ocean,” to Bhamo and other Tay domains.92 A Chinese memorial of 1530, written three years after the fall of Ava, thus states that Mäng Mit, deriving large profits from mining gems, had access to vessels of Indian Ocean type on its boundary (MSL Shizong: 2570-1). The report indicates that foreign merchants were allowed to frequent ports along the upper reaches of the Irrawaddy, such as Tagaung, Katha, Kaungzin and Bhamo, where they could directly deal with the natives. As the above case of Mäng Mit shows, direct control over Ava, an emporium on the “extraordinary navigable” Irrawaddy (AOC II: 54), the main north-south artery that connected the Tay Hills to the Central Plain, accelerated a lowland orientation of Tay domains, thereby “effectively integrating Shan areas into an economy centered on the Irrawaddy Basin” (Lieberman 2003: 146). Hence, with the Tay takeover of the Upper Burma capital, the Dry Zone and Tay Highlands were politically and economically unified. The unification in turn transformed the Hill-Dry Zone-Coast “tripartism” (Aung-Thwin 2011: 7) that had been operational in the western mainland for two centuries into a dualism, Upper and Lower Burma, based on the “economic symbiosis” (5). As successors to Burman kings of Ava who had “ended up preserving the status quo [in the political and military relationship between Ava and Pegu]” (5), the Tay leaders too were unwilling to conquer the maritime areas of Lower Burma. The task of territorial unification of the western mainland was taken up by the Toungoo dynasts, who appreciated the fullest advantage of their southern location closer to the coast more favorably blessed with the Age of Commerce in the beginning of its peak period.

Pacification of the Tay highlands by Toungoo dynasts In 1538 King Tabinshweihti of Toungoo attacked Pegu, the commercial and political center of the coastal Mon world.93 The attack on the internationally famous entrepot was, as stated above, apparently driven by commercial and military prospects: deriving inland home without founding a dynasty (Kirigaya 2015a: 259). 92 Burman kings of Ava, like their Nyaungyan successors, very likely imposed a monopoly on trade in textiles imported from the coast and restricted the amount of textiles exported to the Tay realm. Furthermore, they probably forbade foreigners to “traverse Burmese territory to Bhamo” (DEIC: 177). When asked by the Dutch to allow an opening of a trading post in Bhamo in 1682, the Nyaungyan king replied that “such a request was unprecedented. It was public knowledge that from time immemorial and in accordance with strictly observed Burmese laws, no foreigners were permitted beyond a day’s travel from Ava” (177). Hence, “they had to entrust their goods and trade to Burmese merchants who did have permission to travel to Bhamo” (100). The ban observed from time immemorial was temporarily lifted while the Tay occupied the Avan throne, as they had no reason to favor “Burmese” merchants over foreigners. 93 The following story is based on the UK (II: 131-51, 168-278) and HMN (II: 138-59, 187-290), unless otherwise noted. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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huge profits from oceanic trade,94 and securing direct access to European firearms recently introduced by the Portuguese to the coastal cities of Southeast Asia.95 The defeated Mon king fled to Prome, resorting to the Burman lord of the riverine city, his brother-in-law, who in turn asked Thohanbwa, the Tay king of Ava, for military assistance.96 Thus, this battle over Prome involved Burman, Mon, and Tay crowns, who jointly fought against another Burman lord of Toungoo. Each of the three leaders in alliance represented Lower, Middle, and Upper Burma (including Tay Hills), which were commercially connected by a trade network along the Irrawaddy, and thus shared common economic interests. The sudden annexation of Pegu by Toungoo definitely alerted them that it would alter, or worse yet, break the “status quo” or the “economic symbiosis” preserved for centuries between Upper and Lower Burma. Commercial concerns were the principal factor to form this “multi-ethnic” alliance.97 They failed to retake Pegu, allowing Toungoo’s growing presence in the coastal sector. In 1541 Tabinshweihti again attacked Prome. His repeated expeditions to the riverine emporium evoke those of Caolong’s a decade earlier. Rather than a simple advance by land straight up to Ava through Toungoo, the new Peguan king, following the precedent set by the celebrated Tay conqueror, first attempted to dominate the lower-middle Irrawaddy traffic. This time, besides the Avan monarch, the lord of Prome also asked the Arakan king for aid. Arakan sent both an army and navy for the relief of Prome, which shows exactly how the coastal kingdom was connected, by land and water, with the commercial network along of the Irrawaddy.98 From the Tay side came Thohanbwa and the lords of Mäng Yang, Mäng Mit and Sipö.99 As seen above, Sipö had been a “steadfast ally of Ava” (MGNY: 298), faithfully supporting Thus, an early 17th century Chinese record aptly relates, “Rising from Dongwu [Toungoo], Mangruiti [Minshweihti; Tabinshweihti] took over maritime trade” (Qu 1979: 589). In the early 16th century, Varthema described the Peguan king as wearing “more rubies on him than the value of a very large city” and “having an (annual) income of about one million in gold” (1928: 82-3). In 1519 a commercial treaty was concluded between the Peguan king and the Portuguese, who then established a “factory or trade depot” at Martaban (Phayre 1998: 264). 95 The above-mentioned Chinese record thus states, “In former times Mian [Burma] did not have firearms. Now they have obtained them” (Qu 1979: 619). For a general discussion of the evolution and introduction of firearms technology to Southeast Asia, see Andaya (1992: 379-94). For the effectiveness of European firearms in Toungoo campaigns to interior districts, see Lieberman (1984: 28-9; 2003: 152-3). Cesare Frederici in the late 1560s observed that the Peguan king (Bayinnaung) maintained “eighty thousand Harquebusses” (1905: 124), while Gasparo Balbi in 1583 noted that the king retained a “great store of Artillarie of all sorts” (1905: 159). 96 The YT (II: 28) remarks that it was Thohanbwa’s successor, the Sipö caopha, who came to Prome in response to the request. According to Phayre (1998: 88), Thohanbwa had a “deep hatred to the Burmese race,” though there is no such a mention in the chronicles. 97 Maung Htin Aung describes the lord of Prome as “half Burmese and half Shan” (1967: 107), thereby making the story suitable to, and understandable in, the ethno-paradigm of the historiography of Burma. 98 As stated above, the Arakan relationship with cities along the Irrawaddy must have been fairly intimate. 99 The YT (II: 38) says it was the Sipö caopha, now king of Ava, who, with caophas of Sumsai (Thonze), Lökcök (Yauksauk), and Nöngmwan (Naungmun), all in the eastern hills, came to Prome for its rescue. 94

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the Burman monarch of Ava in battles against Mäng Yang for decades.100 In other words, Mäng Yang and Sipö had been arch-enemies. Now, in the face of an immediate common threat far graver than their enmity, they somehow overcame the long-lasting antipathy.101 Despite their concentrated effort, however, the allied forces were severely defeated by the Toungoo troops, who then conquered Prome. In a commercially desperate situation without control over the Irrawaddy traffic and access to Lower Burma trade, Hkon Maing (probably Khun Mäng in Tay), formerly the caopha of Sipö, now the king of Ava, and other Tay lords of Mäng Yang, Bhamo, Mäng Mit, Mäng Nai, and Yönghoy united to retake Prome in 1543.102 A half-century earlier (indeed throughout history), a united Tay front would have been impossible to form. While those northern principalities, such as Mäng Yang, Bhamo, and Mäng Mit, closer to the Chinese border, were more closely related to, and more substantially affected by the economic and political impact transmitted overland from Ming China, Mäng Nai and Yönghoy, located to the southeast of Ava, were separated from their northern brethren both geopolitically and economically, and more involved in the affairs of the lowland valleys of the Irrawaddy.103 In short, other than the basic cultural traits, they shared little political and commercial interest with each other. However, as a result of intensive integration of the Tay world into an economy centered on the Dry Zone, those domains now shared a vested interest in terms and trends of trade with Lower Burma, which drove them into alliance.104 Therefore, although the battle over Prome looks at first sight to be an ethnic conflict between Tay and Burman, it was in reality a battle between Upper and Lower Burma, each representing their own commercial interests and trade networks closely linked to the Irrawaddy. Despite their unified determination, the united Tay forces were again repulsed by the Toungoo troops, because the war vessels of the latter were larger than those of The lord of Sipö was described by a Burman minister as a “close friend and ally” of his master, Narapati, the ex-king of Ava (UK II: 139; HMN II: 146). Ava and Sipö, through the trade in tea, must have maintained a close commercial relationship. Tea, vital to the diet of the Burmans, was grown in the Tay Hills, especially in the area to the north of Sipö unblessed with gem mines. A local chronicle records that a queen of a Sipö caopha was the daughter of the lord of Loi Long (Tawng Peng), the major tea-producing domain (Mu 1948: 18a). Tay tea, unlike tea from the Sipsong Panna region, was not highly appreciated by the Chinese. Thus, the bulk of the produce was exported to the Burmese lowlands, whence in turn came Indian textiles. 101 Besides other possible means, Caolong’s non-monopolistic policy toward trade in textiles imported by foreign ships might have also helped to conciliate the caopha of Sipö. 102 The YT (II: 43) adds to this list the caopha of Mäng Köng (Mogaung). The summary of how Khun Mäng assumed the throne of Ava is as follows: When Thohanbwa was assassinated by frustrated Burman courtiers, their leader was recommended to succeed the vacant throne by Khun Mäng; however, that leader politely refused to take the throne himself and in turn asked Khun Mäng to come down from Sipö to be crowned at Ava. As Lieberman correctly affirms (2003: 135), “disjuncture between ethnicity and allegiance” is apparent in this case. 103 According to the chronicle account (UK II: 125; HMN II: 134), Mäng Nai and Yönghoy, among other unspecified Tay domains, seem to have been allies of Sipö that in turn was an ally of Ava in fighting Mäng Yang in the 1520s. 104 Again, the non-monopolistic policy directed by Caolong and his successors at Ava might have contributed to conciliating the other Tay lords. 100

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the former, and the latter employed cannons while the former had none (UK II: 140; HMN II: 147). The victorious Toungoo forces made a retaliatory northern expedition, extending the territory up to Pagan. Rulers of towns and fortresses along the Irrawaddy took refuge in Ava under a “Shan” lord, rather than surrendering to Toungoo forces led by their compatriot Burmans. Among these refugee rulers was Sithukyawhtin, former lord of Salin, a place located roughly intermediary between Ava and Prome along the Irrawaddy.105 He seems to have enjoyed the personal favor of the Mäng Yang caopha, who supported him to be crowned at Sagaing in 1545.106 Ava and Sagaing, two capitals in the “heartland” of Burma, existed in juxtaposition until 1551, when Sithukyawhtin crossed the Irrawaddy to mount a final assault on Ava. The ruler of Ava, heir to Khun Mäng and formerly the lord of Mäng Pai, fled the city without exchanging fire and turned to Bayinnaung who had just succeeded Tabinshweihti.107 Curiously, both Phayre and Harvey, precolonial Western historians of Burma, refer to Sithukyawhtin’s “Shan” descent, although Burmese chronicles bear no information on his “ethnic” background.108 This is because their “ethnic paradigm” of Burmese history is founded upon the assumption that the “Shan” have to fight against the Burmans, or vice versa, and should not support each other.109 Sithukyawhtin must be “Shan,” otherwise the caopha of Mäng Yang helping him to oust a “Shan” king from Ava is unexplainable. Something which had not concerned the authors of Burmese chronicles centuries earlier was unintelligible to Phayre and Harvey, as they had been born, educated, or trained during the “Springtime of Nations.”110 The difference in ethnicity (whatever it is) was a decisive factor in causing historical events in their ethnic paradigm.111 Sithukyawhtin reigned until 1555 when Bayinnaung, “the mightiest of all which have reigned in Pegu” (Pimenta 1905: 210), came to conquer Ava.112 After pacifying A Burmese epigraph mentions that “Salin lord Sithu,” with others, made donations to a Buddhist temple in commemoration of the victory over the Shyam (Shan) of Sipö who came to the vicinity of Ava in 1526/27 (SMK V: 124). 106 Why the caopha of Mäng Yang helped Sithukyawhtin with the enthronement is unclear. However, the above-cited inscriptional evidence at least suggests that Sithukyawhtin once played an outstanding role when the Mäng Yang troops led by Caolong fought the Sipö army in the battle over Ava. 107 Tabinsheihti was assassinated in 1550, leaving the throne open to contenders, among whom Bayinnaung rose to power. He pacified Toungoo and then, as a rule for the Peguan king, Prome, where he received the ex-Avan king (MKP: 106). 108 Phayre describes Sithukyawhtin as a “son of the Shan chief of Mohnyin” (1998: 106), while Harvey depicts him as “Shan who held Salin” and the “last sawbwa [of Ava]” (1967: 109). 109 Therefore, Maung Htin Aung relates (1967: 95), “[during the Mäng Yang-Ava war] Ava had been wooing Toungoo, trying to convince its king that out of a sense of nationalism he should support the Burmese dynasty at Ava.” I did not find this passage in any of the Burmese chronicles on which he based his work. 110 The “Springtime of Nations,” according to Craig Calhoun, was during the mid-19th century (1997: 3). 111 For an insightful criticism of “reification of ethnicity” in the study of Burmese history, see Aung-Thwin (1998: 146-7). 112 According to Phayre (1998: 108), partly because of the “hatred the citizens [of Ava] bore to the 105

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Ava’s environs and organizing the northern defense at Myedu,113 the lord of both the “Mon and Burman states” returned to Pegu to rest for the rainy season. He left Pegu the following year again for the pacification of worrisome Tay regimes,114 of which his immediate target was Mäng Mit with its “ruby mines.”115 The campaign did not take long. In the newly conquered territory, Bayinnaung established pagodas with Burmese-oriented Buddhist practices, and regulated yearly tribute of ruby, gold, silver, and musk. Then the Toungoo troops descended the hill westward to the Irrawaddy, crossed it at the Htihkyain ferry, and advanced northward to Mäng Yang and Mäng Köng, where, after successful annexation, Bayinnaung made the same religious and tributary arrangements as in Mäng Mit and Sipö. Quite predictably the tribute list here included amber instead of ruby.116 The direction of Bayinnaung’s campaign was a very rational choice based on commercial considerations.117 Rather than marching up to Yönghoy, Mäng Pai and Mäng Nai, more immediate threats lying in the adjacent hills northeast of Toungoo, Bayinnaung gave strategic priority to the annexation of the Mäng Mit-Sipö and Mäng Yang-Mäng Köng regions, thereby securing control over rubies, amber, and musk, valuable export items attracting merchants from afar to his capital.118 An epigraphic account emphasizes the religious aspect of this campaign, saying because the two domains of the heretic “Shans,” i.e. Mäng Mit-Sipö and Mäng Yang-Mäng Köng, destroyed the place where the Religion had been established, i.e. Ava, Bayinnaung planned to put them under his “arm.” Yet, his economic motive is also asserted by the claim in the same inscription that Bayinnaung conquered “ruby mines” (MKP: 107). Shan king, a stubborn defense was not looked for.” 113 HHA states (352-3) that Bayinnaung, after the pacification of Ava, went on a northern campaign along the Irrawaddy to Kaungton, Kaungzin, and Bhamo, riverine trading towns near the SinoBurmo-Tay boundaries. Economic motives were surely behind this campaign. 114 A Yunnan official sent to settle a dispute between caophas of Sënwi and Mäng Wan (Longchuan) reported, “Chief of barbarous Mian named Ruiti [Shweihti] now lords it over Pegu and has ambition to swallow up [Sënwi and Mäng Wan] (Gu 1966 v. 32: 27a). 115 A Mon inscription commemorating Bayinnaung’s deeds specifically names “ruby mines,” together with Mäng Mit and Sipö, which were conquered by the Burman monarch (MKP: 107). Cesare Frederici, who visited Pegu in the late 1560s, called Bayinnaung, “Lord of the Mines of Rubies, Saphirs, and Spinels” (1905: 125). 116 Amber was the specialty of the region, and one of the items on which Nyaungyan Min declared a monopoly in 1600. 117 As seen above, Bayinnaung’s commercially motivated northern campaign to the upper Irrawaddy emporia, such as Bhamo, Kaungzin and Kaungton, soon after his conquest of Ava is mentioned by at least one source, a biographic account of Bayinnaung. 118 John Huyghen van Linschoten, a late 16th century Dutch traveler, affirms, “Rubies, Safiers, and other stones . . . of the Countrie of Pegu are esteemed the finest, whereof there is great store . . . . daily brought out . . . into all places” (1883 v. I: 97; v. II: 140). Another contemporary description goes, “The fame of [Peguan king’s] bounty . . . was spread over the world” (Balbi 1905: 158). European visitors to Pegu during the reign of Bayinnaung and his son listed, among the exports of Pegu, gold, silver, rubies, sapphires, spinels, musk, benzoin, tin, lead, copper, lac, long pepper, rice, wine (made of rice), and sugar, many of which, and indeed most luxurious ones, were from the Tay realm (Frederici 1905: 133; Fitch 1905: 192). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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What he really wanted to put under his control was the Tay produce that attracted merchants even from Mecca. That is why Nyaungyan Min, son of Bayinnaung, declared a royal monopoly on the precious stones and amber with other items, following the precedent set by his celebrated father, soon after he had assumed the throne of Ava. Bayinnaung’s political and religious unification of Lower and Upper Burma with the surrounding Tay Highlands was, therefore, not an inevitable outbreak of long “ethnic” enmity between Burman and Tay, but a logical outcome of the longterm economic trend, in which the three zones of the western mainland had already been commercially unified.

Conclusion Historical research on Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce has been disproportionately concentrated on the major coastal powers open to oceanic trade, while contemporary political and commercial transformations in the interior of the mainland have been largely neglected by scholars with “maritime mentality.” This article, while acknowledging that maritime commerce stimuli were not solely responsible for political and economic changes in western mainland Southeast Asia during the Age of Commerce, has attempted to discuss the implications of the global commercial expansion in the “long 16th century” for the southward Tay thrust, a missing piece in Anthony Reid’s “total history.” Echoing the late David Wyatt’s subtle observation, truly was the highland Tay world “involved in the same sorts of global transformations as the major empires that surrounded it” (1999: 265). Not really an uncivilized hill people whose economy was based on cultivating rice and plundering the wealthy lowland valleys, the highland Tay, a supplier of luxurious commodities for oceanic trade, actively involved themselves in the burgeoning trade that connected Upper and Lower Burma by the Irrawaddy. Initially drawing strength from intensive military and commercial contact with the Chinese, they eventually grew confident and powerful enough to challenge Burman supremacy in the Central Plain, which ultimately led to the fall of the capital of Upper Burma in 1527. The seizure of the Avan throne further accelerated the integration of the Tay into an economy centered on the Basin, whereby formerly dissociated highland Tay principalities came to share vested political and commercial interests. Therefore, when Bayinnaung, king of Lower Burma, took the capital of Upper Burma in the 1550s, the next destination of his expedition was naturally the highland Tay world, which was commercially and politically part and parcel of what he had already conquered. The economic boom, which brought commercial prosperity to the interior, undeniably favored the coastal sector more by providing advanced firearms technology after the arrival of the Europeans in the early 16th century. A broad belt of the Taispeaking peoples stretching along the boundary of China and mainland Southeast Asia had once been militarily superior to the lowlands, thanks to better access to Chinese military technology, conceivably far more advanced than that of Southeast Asia at the time. European firearms dramatically reversed this trend and the lowlands, with easier access to oceanic trade, began to gain superior military might over the highlands. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Thus, when the Toungoo dynasts, after their conquest of Lower Burma seaports in the mid-16th century, turned their military attention to the uplands, the Tay world was no match for the Burman conquerors equipped with advanced weapons and supported by alien mercenaries. The Age of Commerce, which had once led to the commercial-cumpolitical expansion of Tay principalities, ironically proved itself in the end primarily a maritime event by favoring a port-state that would sweep most parts of the Tai-speaking world of mainland Southeast Asia. Lastly, returning to Wyatt’s remark, not only the cis-Salween Tay, but also their eastern brethren of the trans-Salween world, such as Lan Na, Lan Sang, and Kengtung, were more or less affected by the burgeoning trade. Admittedly, economic records in the languages concerned are desperately scarce, which makes expansive research on the subject extremely difficult (cf. MGNY: 317; Aung-Thwin 1985: 113). However, for a truly total history of Southeast Asia, scholars should not confine themselves to the study of commercial centers along the seashore, and need to venture upon further exploration into the trends and patterns of trade in these upland Tai interstices during the Age of Commerce.

Abbreviations AOC

Anthony Reid, Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce 1450-1680

Cœm

Phraratchaphongsawadan Krung Si Ayutthaya Chabap Phan Chanthanumat

DEIC

Wil O. Dijk. Seventeenth-Century Burma and the Dutch East India Company, 1634-1680

GEM

Sun Laichen. “Shan Gems, Chinese Silver and the Rise of Shan Principalities in Northern Burma, c. 1450-1527”

GUBSS

J. George Scott and J. P. Hardiman. Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States

HHA

Hanthawaddy Hsinbyushin Ayeidawpon

HMN

Hmannan Mahayazawindawgyi

IJAS

International Journal of Asian Studies

JAS

Journal of Asian Studies

JBRS

Journal of the Burma Research Society

JSEAS

Journal of Southeast Asian Studies

JSS

Journal of the Siam Society

LNCH

Liew-Herres Foon Ming and Volker Grabowsky, Lan Na in Chinese Historiography: Sino-Tai Relations as Reflected in the Yuan and Ming Sources

LP

Phraratchaphongsawadan Krung Kao Chabap Luang Prasoetaksonnit

LZ

Li Guoxiang, et al., eds. Ming Shilu Leizhuan: Shewai Shiliao Juan

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MGNY

Jon Fernquest. “Min-gyi-nyo, the Shan Invasions of Ava (1524-27), and the Beginnings of Expansionary Warfare in Toungoo Burma: 14861539”

MKP

U Chit Thein, ed. and trans. Sheihaung Mon Kyauksa Paungchok

MMY

U Kemeindha. Momeik Yazawindawthit

MS

Ming Shi

MSL

Ming Shilu

PMP

Phongsawadan Mon Phama

SBBR

SOAS Bulletin of Burma Research

SMK

Burma, Department of Archaeology. Sheihaung Myanma Kyauksa-mya

UK

U Kala. Mahayazawingyi

XNY

Xinanyi Fengtuji

YA

Yaza-di-yaza Ayeidawpon

YT

Twinthintaik Wun Maha Sithu. Myanma Yazawin-thit

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____. 2010a. “Assessing the Ming Role in China’s Southern Expansion.” In Southeast Asia in the Fifteenth Century: The China Factor, edited by Geoff Wade and Sun Laichen, 44-79. ____. 2010b. “Shan Gems, Chinese Silver and the Rise of Shan Principalities in Northern Burma, c. 1450-1527.” In Southeast Asia in the Fifteenth Century: The China Factor, edited by Geoff Wade and Sun Laichen, 169-96. Taylor, Keith W. 1992. “The Early Kingdoms.” In The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, Vol. I: From Early Times to c.1800, edited by Nicholas Tarling, 137-82. Than Tun, ed. and trans. 1983-1990. The Royal Orders of Burma, A.D. 1598–1885. 10 vols. Kyoto: Kyoto University Center for Southeast Asian Studies. Tin Hla Thaw. 1959. “History of Burma: A.D. 1400-1500.”JBRS 42(2): 135-51. Twinthintaik Wun Maha Sithu. 1968-98. Myanma Yazawin-thit [New Chronicle of Myanmar]. 3 vols. Rangoon: Mingala Press, et al. Varthema, Ludovico di. 1928. The Itinerary of Ludovico Varthema of Bologna from 1502–1508. Translated by John Winter Jones. London: Argonaut Press. Vliet, Jeremias van. 1975. The Short History of the Kings of Siam. Translated by Leonard Andaya. Edited by David K. Wyatt. Bangkok: Siam Society. Wade, Geoff. 2005. Southeast Asia in the Ming Shi-lu. National University of Singapore Press Web-Based Database ____. 2010. “Southeast Asia in the 15th Century.” In Southeast Asia in the Fifteenth Century: The China Factor, edited by Geoff Wade and Sun Laichen, 3-43. Wade, Geoff and Sun Laichen, eds. 2010. Southeast Asia in the Fifteenth Century: The China Factor. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Wang Gungwu. 1998. “Ming Foreign Relations: Southeast Asia.” In The Cambridge History of China Volume 8: The Ming Dynasty, 1368–1644, Part 2, edited by Frederick Mote and Denis Twitchett, 301-32. Wyatt, David K. 1967. “The Thai ‘Kata Mandiarapāla’ and Malacca.” JSS 55(2): 279-86. ____. 1999. “Southeast Asia ‘Inside Out,’ 1300-1800: A Perspective from the Interior.” In Beyond Binary Histories: Re-imagining Eurasia to c. 1830, edited by Victor Lieberman, 245-65. Xinanyi Fengtuji [A Record of the Mores and Customs of the Southwestern Barbarians]. The Zhu Bingqi Wenji edition. Yaza-di-yaza Ayeidawpon [Royal Affairs of Yazadiyit]. n.d. In Ayeidawpon Hkauk Saingtwe tho-mahok Myanma Min-mya Ayeidawpon, 149-331. Zatadawpon-yazawin [Chronicle of Royal Horoscopes]. 1960. Edited by U Hla Tin. Rangoon: Ministry of Culture. Zhou Jifeng. 1990. Yunnan Zhi [Gazetteer of Yunnan]. Tianyigecang Mingdai Fangzhi Xuankan Xubian edition. Shanghai: Shanghai Shudian.

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The Two Khruba Lue: Buddhist Place Makers of the Upper Mekong1 Wasan Panyagaew

Abstract—Since the 1980s, the mobility of people in the borderlands of the upper Mekong region has been reactivated, simultaneously regulated by the state’s changing policy on borders and regional development. This paper traces the respective life stories of two charismatic Lue monks, Phra Khru Weruwanpithak, or ‘Khruba Khuen Kham’ (1929-2005), and Chao Khun Phra Rathanarangsri, or ‘Khruba Saeng Lha’ (1928-), and their Buddhist practices across borders, showing their religious journeys from the early 1980s to the beginning of the 21st century; this led these two Khruba Lue to play a significant part in Theravada revivalism in northern Thailand, the eastern Shan state of Myanmar, and in Sipsong Panna of south-west China. These activities not only restored Theravada Buddhist sites and developed extensive and influential networks among Buddhist monks and laities across borders, but also created a new sense of belonging among the Lue, who have long lived across national borders in the upper Mekong region.

Introduction In present-day northern Thailand, there are many Lue descendants of war captives, who in some areas—in the Lamphun-Chiang Mai region in particular—call themselves Khon Yong, and in others Khon Muang, or the people of Lan Na. Within the process of the formation of the modern Siamese state, since the mid-19th century, these people have become members of the Thai nation. Under such powerful national integration processes, local histories were manipulated and replaced, and the Lue’s traumatic memory seems to be silent. Since the 1980s, however, under the rapid changes of the Thai national economy, which has been unequally distributed, a huge divide resulted between Bangkok, the capital of Thailand, and the countryside, a collective memory of the Lue in exile was restored as part of the local movements in the North. In a regional context, Lue cultural revivals also took place, as particularly demonstrated through Theravada revivalism in the borderlands of the upper Mekong. The revival began at almost the same time as the former socialist countries, namely China, Laos and Myanmar, turned their economic policies towards the outside world. Many Lue families, who had found refuge in northern Laos and the eastern Shan State of Myanmar, decided to return from exile to their ‘home places’, to recover their displaced lives and families (Condominas 1985; Wasan 2008). This paper was first presented at “Theravada Buddhist Forum”, 17-19 February 2016, Jinghong City, Xishuangbanna Dai Autonomous Prefecture, Yunnan Province, People’s Republic of China. An earlier version of parts of the article appeared in Wasan 2014.

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Among these people, groups of cross-border monks, particularly from northern Thailand and eastern Shan state of Myanmar, have played an important role in the transportation of culture (e.g. Tai fonts, Dharma script and textbooks, Buddha icons, Buddhist art, activities, and architecture, and recently modern items and material culture such as music, VCD karaoke and films, particularly from northern Thailand) across national borders (see also Davis 2003). The cross-border connectivity among the Lue, which has been fundamentally based upon family, kinship, trading networks, ethno-history and religion, has been reactivated and maintained, basically through these journeys across borders (cf. Cohen 2000, 2001; Wasan 2010). From the 1990s, the mobility of people in these borderlands of the upper Mekong has also been accelerated and complicated by regional co-operation in trade and economic development among the Mekong countries. This resulted in a massive flow of commodities, culture, information, and capital across these national borders. Within these changing contexts in the age of globalisation, where culture can be commoditised and consumed, either by others or by those culture owners themselves, the search for routes and roots seem to be what most matters. This is particularly the case among the Lue living across the borders of upper mainland Southeast Asia today. This paper examines Buddhist journeys across borders, within the context of nationalisation and regionalisation, through the life story of Phrakhru Weruwanpitak, or Khruba Khuen Kham (1929-2005), and Chao Khun Phra Rathanarangsri, or ‘Khruba Saeng Lha’ (1928-); both Khrubas are Lue descendants and charismatic Buddhist monks. Khruba Khuen Kham lived in Lamphun, northern Thailand; however, he preferred to identify himself as a Yong (a social label used by the locals in LamphunChiang Mai who believe that their ancestors were forced to leave Muang Yong, in the present-day eastern Shan state of Myanmar, about two centuries ago), whereas Khruba Saeng Lha, originally from Sipsong Panna, has resided in Tachileik, a market town on Thai-Myanmar border, for decades. These two Khruba Lue have devoted their lives through the monkhood, following Theravada tradition, which has faithfully been practised for centuries in mainland Southeast Asia, and led their disciples and lay people to restore and rebuild religious sites and cultures across the borders of northern Thailand, eastern Shan State of Myanmar and southern Yunnan in China. For three decades, Khruba Khuen Kham and Khruba Saeng Lha played an important part in the Lue cultural revival from the early 1980s to the beginning of the 21st century. These two charismatic monks devoted themselves to following the ton bun tradition, which has been widely practised in modern times and was initiated by Khruba Sriwichai (1878-1939), a Buddhist saint in northern Thailand (Bowie 2014; Cohen 2001; Keyes 1982; Tambiah 1984). As Charles F. Keyes points out, in contrast to the Arahan, or “one who has fully realized the truth of Buddha’s teachings and who, at death, will be released from the shackles of rebirth” (1982: 150), which in Thai society is exemplified by Acan Man (1871-1949), the Buddhist saint of the north-east of the country, a nakbun or ton bun,2 who is idealised by Khruba Sriwichai, is “one who is so endowed with [so 2

Nukbun is a central Thai term, ton bun is a northern Thai term. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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much] merit himself that he can, through compassion towards others, serve as a means for them also to acquire merit”; whereas the Arahan is one who seeks salvation by rejecting the world, a ton bun is one who is “actively involved in the world and gain[s] a reputation for his organization of major efforts to construct and/or…repair Buddhist monuments” (ibid: 149-150). Both these saints (Acan Man and Khruba Sriwichai), who lived from the late 19th to the mid-20th century, and those monks who have continued their practice, adhere to the forest-monk traditions and rigorously follow the practice of strict asceticism (Tambiah 1984; Taylor 1993; Tiyavanich 1997, 2003). The state’s reform of Buddhism, particularly in Siam (later becoming Thailand in 1939) that began in the early 20th century, led to a decline in local Buddhist traditions and religious communities. Before this reform, which was, in fact, part of the creation of the modern Siamese state, there had been different forms of Buddhist tradition throughout the area that is now Thailand. The emergence of ‘Thammayut’ and ‘Mahanikai’ nikais in the Thai Sangha, however, has not led to the total disappearance of other Buddhist traditions, such as the wandering monk, and in fact, in Thailand and other Buddhist countries of Southeast Asia, different varieties of Theravada tradition are still popular and continue to be practised. Accordingly, as I will show in this paper, the cross-border journeys of the two Khruba Lue, in themselves a transformation and persistence of local Theravada Buddhism, i.e. the ton bun tradition, occurred under a powerful context in terms of the state of Buddhism and the changing upper Mekong region during the age of globalisation. As mentioned earlier, the ton bun is a form of local Buddhist sect centred in northern Thailand, and “is a uniquely Yuan Buddhist variant of the bodhisattva ideal, expressed typically in the building or renovation of religious monuments and the sharing of merit with the laity” (Cohen 2000: 142). This Theravada tradition was nurtured between the 14th and 15th centuries in central Lan Na (present-day Chiang Mai in northern Thailand), and spread to other Tai regions in the upper Mekong, which cover the area of present-day northern Thailand, eastern Myanmar, southern Yunnan in China and northern Laos (Swearer and Sommai 1978). In Paul Cohen’s study on Khruba Bunchum, a charismatic Lue monk, a Yong monk if you like, who is the contemporary exemplar of the ton bun tradition in modern times, he investigates the reliquary building tours of this holy man around the Golden Triangle area. Cohen concludes that the cross-border journeys of Khruba Bunchum, are part of “the re-imagining and renewal of pre-modern ideas of sacred space that challenge modern conceptions of sovereignty and national borders” (Cohen 2000: 141). I will show, however, that in the age of regionalisation of mainland Southeast Asia and China, the ton bun is not simply a form of religious revivalism, but is a remembered person; thus, this tradition is a reflection of mnemonic practice among the Lue as a Diaspora. The religious practices of Khruba Khuen Kham and Khruba Saeng Lha, have not only helped to remind and reform Theravada Buddhism, but have also created a (new) sense of place and belonging among the Lue of the upper Mekong. I will begin with a snapshot of the history of Lue mobility, which arguably created what should be called Diasporic Lue communities in upper Mainland Southeast Asian borderlands today. Then, I will investigate the respective biographies of Khruba Khuen Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Kham and Khruba Saeng Lha, showing that the journeys and missions they conducted significantly transformed Theravada revivalism, developing cultures across borders. In conclusion, I argue that, in the changing context of regional development and the integration of China and mainland Southeast Asia, the religious practice of these two Khruba Lue not only restored Buddhism and Theravada traditions and developed the most influential networks among Lue monks and laities across the national borders, but also created culture and a new sense of belonging among these uprooted peoples, who have long lived across national borders in the upper Mekong region.

Tragic history: mobility that originated in the Lue diasporic communities Anthropologically speaking, the Lue3 are members of the Tai-speaking peoples, and have lived in frontier regions of southern Yunnan, northern Laos, northern Thailand and eastern Shan State in Myanmar, today widely known as the upper Mekong region, for centuries (Cohen 1998, 2002; Keyes 1992; Lebar et al. 1964: 206-213; Moerman 1965; Turton 2000; Wijeyewardene 1993). Through the myths surrounding their origin, the story of Lue mobility can be traced as far back as the early 12th century, the early period of Tai settlement in present mainland Southeast Asia. In one myth, known as tamnan phya aa lavo, it is told that Prince Aa Lavo, a mythical Lue leader, and his people began an expedition from the south, speculatively to ‘a Lao country’. The Prince led his servants to hunt for golden deer until they reached a field at Chiang Hung, where the golden deer, having transformed itself into a normal deer, was eventually hunted down. The Prince thus decided to resettle to this glorious field, leading his people to build a Lue country, later called Chiang Hung, the first centre of the Lue confederation of states in the upper Mekong, an area which later became Sipsong Panna (Wasan 2005). From the 13th to the 16th centuries, these Tai allies, by adopting local customs and beliefs, as well as Theravada Buddhism, established and expanded their power, mostly southwards, to exercise control over the indigenous people in the region of upper mainland Southeast Asia. In The Legend of Lord Buddha’s Journey around the World, which is founded in both the Lue and Lan Na regions, it is mentioned that the peoples in these two regions belonged to the same Buddhist tradition, which might be called Lan Na Buddhism (see Cohen 2017). Note that this legend, believed to have been written in the early 16th century, during the reign of the Mangrai dynasty, narrates the travels of Lord Buddha across Lue and Lan Na countries, simultaneously demonstrating the creation of those visited places as part of the Tai world. Undoubtedly, in this legend the towns in Sipsong Panna and the Lan Na countries were situated in and belonged to the same Buddhist world. Lord Buddha visited, named, and predicted the future of these places and towns in the Lan Na and Lue regions after attaining nirvana. Buddha left his traces or footprints on many hills and valleys. His fellow monks later brought the Lord’s relics to those sites to erect pagodas or develop them Today, they are officially called Shan in Myanmar, the Dai ethnic minority in the People’s Republic of China, and simply Thai and Lao in Thailand and Laos respectively.

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as sacred places. This story of Lord Buddha’s journey, on the one hand, could be interpreted as a history of the Buddhist Tai state formation. On the other hand, it could also be read as a glorious story of the Tai expansion and victory over indigenous powers in the hill-valley regions of upper mainland Southeast Asia (Keyes 1977). One moment in the history of Lue mobility into the Ping valley was captured in The Chiang Mai Chronicle in the late 18th century, when the Tai warlords, led by the (new) Lan Na rulers, attempted to liberate their kingdoms from domination by the Burmese, who had governed the Tai states in the upper Mekong region for over two centuries, from the late 16th to the late 18th century. From the late 18th century and up to the mid-19th century, the story of Lue mobility is itself the story of the decline of the Tai allied states in the upper Mekong, where the kingdoms were at war for more than a half a century, from the 1780s to the 1860s. Among Lue oral history, the homeland was at war and their ancestors had become prisoners of war in both Lan Na and (present day) Myanmar. To the (new) Lan Na rulers, who later established a Lan Na dynasty called the Chao Jed Ton, or the Seven Princes, these forced settlements were part of a series of campaigns carried out with the support of the Siamese rulers, their (new) allies, in which they attempted to rebuild their kingdom and restore their power after the defeat and deportation of the Burmese out of Siam, a kingdom itself newly established in 1782, along with its tributaries (Grabowsky 1999). From the late 18th century to the early 19th century, these Lan Na rulers forced the peoples in Chiang Tung and Sipsong Panna, Muang Yong in particular, to resettle in their principalities in the Ping Valley (the Chiang Mai-Lamphun region today). It is believed that these campaigns resulted in two-thirds of the population in the Chiang Mai-Lamphun area being not indigenous, but war captives from the Red Karen states along the present Thai-Myanmar border, the Shan States to the north-west, and the Lue petty states to the north, particularly from Chiang Tung, Muang Yong (in eastern Shan State today) and Sipsong Panna (southern Yunnan Province of China). While in the eastern regions of Lan Na, the Lue war captives were from the north-east and south-east of Sipsong Panna, including Muang U, Muang La, Muang Phong, Muang Mang, Chiang Kheng, and Muang Singh. They were resettled in Nan, Phrae and Chiang Rai in the mid-19th century. The advent of European colonialism in the mid-19th century not only intensified a worst-case scenario for the Lue, but also began to turn almost everything in their areas upside down; this was a time when friends became enemies and family became unfamiliar. By the end of the 19th century, the old confederation of Lue minor states, commonly called Sipsong Panna, was conquered, divided, demarcated and controlled by the three main colonial powers of British Burma, French Indochina and China.4 The coming of the colonial regimes did indeed change the destiny of the Lue during this historic moment in the late 19th century in the globalisation According to the Anglo-Chinese Boundary Treaty of 1 March 1894, Chiang Hung, the Lue capital on the west bank of the Mekong, was ceded to China, “but the cession was made conditional upon China not surrendering these states to a third party” (Boundary Treaties in Siam and IndoChina 1896: 299). It was not until the end of the mid-19th century that the major part of the Lue confederation states of Sipsong Panna was finally incorporated into China.

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process in the upper Mekong, and as Wijeyewardene (1993) suggests, played a crucial role in the genesis of the Lue Diaspora. The Lue have thus become an internally uprooted people, who live scattered across different areas of their home territory; regions which today are part of the four nation-states of the upper Mekong: China, Laos, Thailand and Myanmar.5 As Charles F. Keyes (1992: 12) remarks, “[t]he division of the [upper Mekong] region between the four states of the colonial era only began, however, the process which was to lead to the emergence of new identities among the Lue and other Tai-speaking peoples of the region.” The Lue in Diaspora, as Paul Cohen suggests, can be understood as peoples, who “have ‘divided loyalties’ and a sense of being simultaneously ‘here and there’” (2002: 5). For these members of the Lue Diaspora, their “orientation to the homeland is expressed in two ways: by the preservation of ties of kinship and locality, by regular cross-border visiting and/or imagined attachments to their place of origin” (ibid). Under the modern nation-state regimes, which tend to regulate rather than liberate people’s mobility, this ‘place of origin’ in many ways, I argue, is transformed, through symbolic forms of cultural articulation into an “imagined destination” that members of the Lue Diaspora desire to visit or revisit, and in many cases this cultural process of imagined place-making takes a religious form. It is in this process that the two charismatic Buddhist monks, Khruba Maha Khuen Kham and Khruba Saeng Lha, played a pivotal role in restoring and reconnecting Lue networks across the national borders of the upper Mekong.

The biographies of the two Khrubas Khruba Khuen Kham Khruba Khuen Kham was born on 14 July 1929, in Ban Chang Khow Noi (Pa Sang district, in Lamphun). He was the third son of four children in his family and when he was about seven years old, his father took him to study at Ban Chang Khow Noi primary school. He completed primary school in 1937, having studied under the state’s compulsory education. After that, like many boys in northern Thailand who wanted to study more, he went to a temple where he aimed to continue his higher studies, becoming a kayom or ‘apprentice’ (to be a monk) at his village’s monastery for two years. As a kayom, he had to study the Tham script and practise chanting the sutras before he could qualify as an ordained novice, which he achieved in 1944. Later, he moved to study at Wat Pa Yang, the old Buddhist monastery in Pa Sang. By the time he was fifteen years old, he already knew the Tai and modern Thai scripts. Unfortunately, that year his father passed away and his mother left home. This crisis in family life was a traumatic experience for the young novice. Nevertheless, he continued his Buddhist studies, moving further south to Wat Pa Nhong Cedi, a forest monastery situated about seven kilometres from Pa Sang town. Thereafter, he resided There are also a few Lue people residing in what is presently north-western Vietnam. This paper, however, concerns only the Lue who have long lived in the areas currently comprising the four countries of the upper Mekong region.

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and studied at this forest temple for about four years, until one day he had the chance to meet and serve Khruba Phromma, a famous nomadic monk who had just returned from his ‘forest retreat’ and a long period of meditation. The nomadic monk accepted the young novice Khuen as his disciple, and in 1948, when Khruba Phromma was invited by the Pa Sang Sangha (monastic order) to direct the construction of Wat Phra Buddha Bat Tak Pha (later Wat Phra Bat), Khruba Khuen, then still a novice, went along with his master to develop this new temple, where he would later be ordained as a monk (Bhikkhu) when he was twenty-one. A few decades later, he would also become its second Abbot (from 1986 to 2005), after the death of Khruba Phromma, the first Abbot, in August 1984. After becoming a Bhikkhu, Khruba Khuen followed his master, Khruba Phromma, adhering to the forest monk tradition, which focuses on the practice of strict asceticism rather than Pali studies; however, as Khruba Khuen told some of his disciples later, he had to be a teacher in Buddhist studies at Wat Phra Bat, so he also studied on the nak tham programme and in Pali studies. In 1953, the same year that the Buddhist monastery school was officially established at Wat Phra Bat, Khruba Khuen passed both the highest level of nak tham studies, called nak tham eak, and also Pali studies to Level 3, called Parian Tham Sam Prayok. As a result, he was given the title Maha, signifying that he was a senior monk who commanded great respect and had a deep knowledge of Pali, the language that Lord Buddha used in his teachings. The local laity and his disciples, therefore, sometimes refer to him as Maha Khuen. Khruba Khuen Kham initially practised dhutanga; and in 1952, he became a forest monk at the age of twenty-three. He later wrote that his master took him and some other disciples south-west, wandering bare foot, via Muang Hot, to Tha Song Yang (in present Tak Province), and across the border to Myanmar where many Karen communities were settled. Khruba Phromma had been there previously, when he lived with the Karen for about six years. In the following years, Khruba Khuen went on dhutanga with his master several times. In 1953, for example, after completing his Buddhist studies, they both journeyed to southern Surat Thani Province, making a pilgrimage to Chaiya Reliquary. This journey, surely on foot, took many months. Although he was appointed the first Patriarch of Wat Phra Bat, Khruba Phromma still took long journeys with his disciples, mostly in the forests along the Thai-Burma border, right up until the late 1960s. The Wat Phra Bat development project was, thus, mostly assigned to Khruba Khuen, his closest disciple, who had loved Buddhist art and architecture since he was a young novice. Khruba Khuen Kham learned and practised by himself, particularly when he had to visit Buddhist monasteries or religious sites. He saw himself as “a practical architect.” At Wat Phra Bat, under the supervision of his great master, Khruba Khuen thus began to apply his practical knowledge, and in 1959, restored the Main Hall, called Viharn Jaturamuk, which had been built in 1929 by Khruba Sriwaichai, in order to cover the Buddha’s footprint. Following this meaningful restoration, Khruba Khuen constructed a new monastery hall (bot), a facilitating hall, the buildings for a new Buddhist monastic school and a temple wall. For three decades (after 1948), Khruba Phromma, the master, and Maha Khuen, the disciple, worked together Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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in turning Wat Phra Bat, once a sacred site on the forested hill, to be a Great Royal Temple, or Phra Aram Luang, a title which was officially given by the Thai monastic order in 1978. The most significant piece of work, however, seems to have been the construction of Cedi Si Khruba (the four charismatic Buddhist monk stupa), which is situated on top of Doi Khure Hill. Envisaged by Khruba Phromma just a year before his death, this reliquary site was erected on the hill that rises behind Wat Phra Bat (see Figure 1). Khruba Khuen began the construction project in 1985, just a year after his great master passed away, and it took a decade to complete the whole project, which included a long Naga aeries of steps stretching from the foot of the hill to the top, a new monastery building (on the hill), a new road up the hill and Cedi Si Khruba, where the ashes of his great master, and the father and two brothers of Khruba Phromma, are enshrined. Along with the development of Wat Phra Bat, Khruba Khuen also restored and built at least two other Buddhist monasteries nearby. One was Wat Mon Ma Hin (where he was the Abbot from 1968 to 1975), a place where his master practised meditation, situated about eight kilometres to the south of Wat Phra Bat. The other was Wat Suwan, situated on the Pa Sang to Li Road, about ten kilometres to the south of Wat Phra Bat. He was the Abbot of this temple for a decade, between 1976 and 1985, before returning to Wat Phra Bat to take up the position of Abbot after the death of his master, as mentioned earlier. His reverence had been accumulated. Not surprisingly, as well as being appointed Abbot of Wat Mon Ma Hin, Wat Suwan, and Wat Phra Bat, Khruba Khuen was also appointed to be Chao Khana Tambon, the Sangha Governor in Makok sub-District, from 1970 to 1975, and Chao Khana Amphur, the Sangha Governor in Pa Sang District, from 1976 to 1986, the highest rank attainable. In 1987, however, after his return to Wat Phra Bat and being made the Abbot there, Khruba Khuen retired from the highest order and detached himself from the Thai Sangha (despite this, the Pa Sang Sangha still paid him the highest respect by appointing him an Honorary District Governor, a position he held until his death, as mentioned in his biography). Seemingly, he wanted to practise the strict form of asceticism and preferred to apply his ‘practical architect’ skills and carry out journeys to far-off places, and it is these religious activities, particularly the forest dhutanga, that he was taught by the great nomadic monk Khruba Phromma, his master. Throughout his life as a Buddhist monk, Khruba Khuen devoted himself to maintaining, building, restoring and creating Buddhist sites. As stated in his biography, he helped to build or restore fifty-seven viharn (main monastery building), thirty-eight bot (a monastery building that is smaller than a viharn), twenty-six sala (temple hall) and eight pagodas, as well as one Buddhist monastic school. Khruba Khuen Kham died on 31 March 2005, and his body was cremated on 11 March 2006 at a temporary site, outside Wat Phra Bat Tak Pha, where he spent fifty-five vassa (years of monkhood). He was acclaimed as a charismatic Yong monk, who adheres to the modern ton bun tradition, in the Pa Sang area where many Lue families, originally from Muang Yong, have resettled.

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Figure 1. Khruba Khuen ‘in the forest,’ somewhere in Sipsong Figure 2. Khruba Saeng Lha, the Patriarch of Wat Sai Panna Muang Buddhist Monastery, Tachilek.

Khruba Saeng Lha Khruba Saeng Lha Dhammasiri (under Chiang Tung Sangha) or Chao Khun Phra Rathanarangsri (under the Thai Sangha) was born on the ninth day of the second month of the Lue Calendar, the Tai year 1291, or in late December 1928, in Muang Hoon, a small town situated in southern Sipsong Panna, bordering the eastern Shan state of Myanmar. In his home village, he was ordained first as a novice and later as a monk when he turned twenty. This was similar to Khruba Khen Kham and other village boys in the Tai Buddhist world, where entering the Buddhist monkhood and studying Tai script, Buddha’s teachings, and other kinds of traditional knowledge, artistic skills, medical and magical practices were common. For Bhikkhu Saeng Lha, his love and pride in Dhamma studies led him to devote his life to Buddhism, continuing his monkhood with the aim of following the Lord Buddha into Nirvana. When he was about thirty, in 1958, the disastrous Great Leap Forward took place in China, which possibly caused him to flee across the border to Chiang Tung where he could continue his religious life. He resided at Wat Chiang Yun in Chiang Tung. About three years later, when he was thirty-three, he was promoted to the Savathi title, the first rank for a senior monk in the Chiang Tung Sangha. In 1967, one year after the Cultural Revolution began in China, Phra Savathi Saeng Lha was invited from Chiang Yun temple to reside at Wat Sai Muang and became the Patriarch of this Buddhist monastery. From then on, Abbot Saeng Lha and the Lue laitiy, most of whom had escaped from Muang Hoon during the decade of the Cultural Revolution, began to restore and develop this temple, first as a spiritual centre for the exiled Lue community in Tachileik, and later becoming a centre for Buddhist studies in the upper Mekong region. In 1970, or about ten years after his first promotion as Phra Savathi Saeng Lha, he was promoted to the higher rank of Phra Savami Saeng Lha. In the Tai Buddhist World, the longer he continued and maintained his monkhood, the more knowledge he would acquire, leading to a higher rank and greater reverence. When he was fifty, in 1978, he was promoted again to the Khruba title, the highest rank that any monk in the Chiang Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Tung/Sipsong Panna Sangha could hold. Since then, he has become Khruba Saeng Lha, a great master among his disciples and Lue followers. Led by Khruba Sang Lha from 1967 to the present, the construction and development of Wat Sai Muang monastery have dramatically helped to restore the life of exiled Lue families, most of whom escaped from southern Sipsong Panna and Muang Yong during the three-decade ‘dark age’, from 1958 to 1978, and resettled in Mae Sai-Tachileik. Wat Sai Muang today is the central temple and the centre for Buddhist Studies in Tachileik district. It is said that the temple was rebuilt on the historic site that had formerly been Wat Ges, supposedly about 600 years old. Probably, in the early 1950s, the same period that groups of Lue fled from Sipsong Panna and resettled in the Mae Sai-Tachileik border areas, the temple was first restored by a leading monk, Khruba Doang Kaew, and laymen. Nevertheless, the clearest history of this Buddhist monastery reconstruction began in 1967, when Phra Savathi Sang Lha was invited from Chiang Tung to be the temple abbot. From then on, Khruba Saeng Lha started leading his Lue followers to construct and develop this temple, which later became the Buddhist centre in this border region. In 1978, the same year that he received the title “Khruba”, Khruba Saeng Lha began to develop the Nak Dham Studies programme at his Buddhist monastery school, which gradually expanded its network into the surrounding towns and villages in eastern Shan state, and later beyond the national borders to northern Thailand and Sipsong Panna, when Buddhism was allowed to be practised faithfully again in the early 1980s by the Dai in Xishuangbanna. Apart from his mission to restore Buddhism through developing religious sites and a formal study programme, Khruba Saeng Lha also led his followers since 1975 to develop schools and other social services in Tachileik town. These included a kindergarden in 1976, a primary school in 1990, a primary high school in 2002 and a high school in 2005. All are situated in the area surrounding his monastery compound. Interestingly, in 1998, during the period that the border economy was promoted by the four nation-states of Thailand, Laos, Myanmar, and China, he was also appointed by the Myanmar government to be a leader of the construction of a replica of the Shewedagon Pagoda in Tachileik. In 2006, he began to build a home for the elderly, and in 2007, he started to develop the Pali studies programme at Wat Sai Muang. He also began seeking sponsors among his network which, after 1980, had been established across the national borders of China, Laos, Myanmar and Thailand, to establish scholarships for his students to study abroad. For three decades, at Wat Sai Muang, a number of monks and novices, both from eastern Shan state and southern Sipsong Panna, have come to study and undertake the Nak Dham exam, turning Wat Sai Muang into a Buddhist studies centre and, later, a hub for cross-border student monks. After graduating and becoming competent in the Thai language, these monks would travel to Bangkok, and Yangon for their higher studies. The Khrubas’ missions were, therefore, not limited to Myanmar, but transcended borders, to Mae Sai in northern Thailand and Sipsong Panna in southern China. Khruba Saeng Lha is undeniably a charismatic Lue monk who traversed the borders. His religious practice and monkhood belong to the Tai Theravada tradition. His charisma and higher rank has been attained through his focus on his religious mission Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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in restoring and remaking the Buddhist world. The great reverence in which he is held by huge numbers of Lue, Shan and Thai followers comes fundamentally from what one might call a symbolic exchange, through the blessings he gives and the donations he receives from his faithful followers. Consequently, in 2011, he received from the Thai king the Pad Yot, or fan of rank, in the Thai Sangha , yet another historic phenomenon. In 2012, at the height of his monastic life, he donated the hospital that he and his Thai and Lue followers had built to the Myanmar government. The hospital, sometimes called the “Thai hospital” because of the many donations from Thailand, was named the “Dhammasiri Hospital”, after his Buddhist title. Each year in late December for over a decade, the people of Ban San Sai, now the oldest Lue community in Tachileik, have organised a birthday ceremony for Khruba Saeng Lha at Wat Sai Muang. The birthday ceremony in 2011, however, was particularly historic and important, since it was the year that Khruba Saeng Lha was given the royal Pad Yot. In the border towns of Tachileik and Mae Sai that year, the Lue of Ban San Sai, co-operating with both Thai and Myanmar state officials, organised a special ceremony in recognition of Khruba Saeng Lha’s great achievement in receiving the Pad Yot from the Sixth Sangha regional governor, and being given the royal title, “Chao Khun Phra Rathanarangsri”.

The two Khrubas traversing the borders Khruba Saeng Lha is not a nomadic monk, although to maintain his Buddhist monkhood he had to live in exile from his motherland. Through this historic journey, he has become a Khruba who lives along the borders. His Buddhist missions are not simply limited to Myanmar, but traverse the borders, north and south, to Sipsong Panna and Northern Thailand. In 1983, he helped, for example, to support the restoration of Wat Dao Wow stupa in Mae Sai, and thirty years later, in 2013, he continued this religious mission. Since the early 1990s, in Sipsong Panna, he began to transport Buddha images to those in need and arranged financial support to rebuild the town stupa of Muang Hoon, his mother’s hometown. Similarly, late in his life, Khruba Khuen Kham continued his religious mission to restore and create Buddhist sites in Muang Yong, his ancestral hometown in eastern Shan state, and later he often went to Sipsong Panna in southern Yunnan with his Thai and Lue disciples. For many years, he also ensured that donations, mostly from Thailand, were passed to remote areas like Muang Yong and Sipsong Panna. As a result, he gained a reputation for his religious practice and his journeys across borders, becoming probably the best known monk from northern Thailand among the Lue communities in Muang Yong and Sipsong Panna. The year 1976 marked a turning point in Khruba Khuen’s long journeys, when he traversed the north to Mae Sai and across the border to Tachileik, then a small town where many Lue refugees from southern Sipsong Panna had resettled. There, at Wat Sai Muang, he met Khruba Saeng Lha and established contact with monks from the town of Muang Yong. Khruba Khuen had first learned about Muang Yong from the wooden inscription in the monastery of his home village. It was, indeed, the home of his Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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ancestors, those Lue who had been forced to resettle in Pa Sang in the early 19th century, as mentioned earlier. Three years later, in 1979, after contact had been renewed via Khruba Saeng Lha, an initial group of eleven Lue monks and novices from Muang Yong were, at the request of Khruba Khuen, sent to study with him at Wat Suwan. Incredibly, from 1980 to about 1995, delegations of monks and novices from Muang Yong made an annual trek across the border to study with Khraba Khuen at this monastery (and later at Wat Phra Bat). In 1984, the year his master passed away, Khruba Khuen was finally able to make his first journey to Muang Yong, after which he continued to visit, sometimes accompanied by Thai lay people, in order to donate Buddha images and funds for the restoration of old monasteries or to build a new religious site in Muang Yong (and later in Sipsong Panna). As well as these cross-border journeys to eastern Shan state, Khruba Khuen also invited a group of Lue monks from Muang Yong to cross the border in 1986, to participate in his great master’s cremation at Wat Phra Bat. Interestingly, there are two significant Buddhist sites in Muang Yong that were restored by Khruba Khuen, one being the main monastery building at Wat Ho Kong (the Central Temple of Muang Yong), and the other being the Johm Yong Pagoda, the religious site where Khruba Khuen implemented designs of northern Thai Buddhist art and architecture. The restoration of Thad Johm Yong pagoda finished in 1994, and also included the construction and renovation of the bot, dhatu pidok, kuti and viharn on Doi Johm Yong hill. In 1986, on his journey to Muang Yong, Khruba Khuen made his first visit to Sipsong Panna, accompanied by the Abbot of the Central Temple of Muang Yong, travelling across the border from the eastern Shan state of Myanmar. During this trip to Chiang Hung (Jinghong), he took with him a Buddha image to donate to the Sipsong Panna Buddhist Association at Wat Ban Tin, and from that year to 1999 he made several trips, often accompanied by Khruba Saeng Lha, from Muang Yong to Sipsong Panna, where he took part in the restoration of several Buddhist sites, as described below. In 1995, he brought financial support (from a Thai businessman in Bangkok), as well as a leading craftsman from Muang Yong to rebuild the great Buddha image in the viharn of Wat Suan Mon, a tourist spot in Muang Ham (called Galanba in Chinese), about thirty kilometres to the east of Jinghong. Another example of Khruba Khuen’s work in Sipsong Panna was his leading role in the construction of a bot at Wat Pa Che, the Central Temple of Sipsong Panna, in Jinghong, which was completed in 1998. In this sense, the cross-border journeys of the two Khruba Lue, one from Pa Sang another from Tachileik, to Sipsong Panna can probably be seen as having been part of a Theravada revival in the upper region of the Mekong. This is exemplified through a historic cross-border journey made by monks and novices from Muang Yong and Sipsong Panna to northern Thailand, lasting about two decades from the mid-1980s to the early 21st century, in order to study at Wat Suwan and Wat Phra Bat, which was then governed by Khruba Khuen as the Patriarch. Not surprisingly, most have since become the Khruba’s disciples (see Wasan 2010). From 1991 on, pioneer groups of Lue monks and novices from Sipsong Panna in southern Yunnan travelled across the national border to pursue their Buddhist studies, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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particularly in Lamphun, northern Thailand. The first and the only formal group of ten were sent by the Xishuangbanna Buddhist Association to travel by air (from Kunming to Bangkok and from Bangkok to Chiang Mai) to Wat Phra Bat in May 1991. These student monks and novices were determined to establish a Buddhist monastery school at the Central Temple of Sipsong Panna, then still under construction. After finishing their three-year programme of study abroad, all of them had to return to Sipsong Panna, in accordance with a formal agreement between Thailand and China. However, each year from 1991 to the late 1990s, there were also other groups of Lue monks and novices (about thirty of them in 1992 alone), who crossed the border to make the long journey overland, mostly via the Mae Sai-Tachileik border, to northern Thailand. Most of them hoped to improve their knowledge by studying in a Thai monastery, and at the same time to experience life in Thailand: to acquire modern knowledge and experience in Thai society. Although not all of these Lue monks studied at Wat Phra Bat in Pa Sang district, which was then governed by Khruba Khuen (some went to temples in Lamphun or Chiang Mai), within a few years the number of Lue monks and novices at this temple had increased dramatically. Most of them came to Wat Phra Bat through the transnational network of Khruba Saeng Lha and Khruba Khuen, but they made the long journey by themselves, utilising ‘underground links’ developed soon after the arrival of the delegation sent by the Buddhist Association in May 1991. For almost two decades, Wat Phra Bat was transformed into a hub for border-crossing monks from the eastern Shan state of Myanmar and southern Yunnan in China. In Lamphun, the Lue monks initially formed an informal meeting group to help each other and look after newcomers. In January 1994, the ten members of the delegation sent by the Buddhist Association returned to Xishuangbanna after completing their studies. A couple of years later, other Lue monks and novices also began to return to their home country. The number of border-crossing monks at Wat Phra Bat has continually decreased since the death of Khruba Khuen. Most of the Lue monks continued their monastic lives for years after their return to Sipsong Panna, leading the Lue laity in reforming and developing Theravada Buddhism in their home country. The return of these monks has meant the transportation of Buddhist practice and tradition, knowledge and experience learned in Thailand to southern Yunnan, resulting in new schooling practice in Lue Buddhist monasteries, religious practice at annual festivals, the (re)construction of temple buildings, a revival of Buddhist art and architecture, and other kinds of artwork, or simply through stories told in everyday conversation. The story of the cross-border journey of these Lue monks, and the renewal of their Theravada practice after their return home, can undoubtedly be seen as part of Theravada Buddhist revivalism in Sipsong Panna that has taken place since the 1980s. Most of these monks are the disciples of the two Khruba Lue; thus, their journey can be interpreted as a form of transportation of Thai culture across the border into this frontier region of south-west China. A question remains as to how the social process of transporting Thai culture across the borders through the cross-border journeys of these Lue monks and novices actually took place. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Conclusion The Tai world of the upper Mekong region has a long-shared culture, society and history, and the region has a lengthy tradition of Lan Na Buddhism, which is represented through a common belief in ton bun. This type of Theravada Buddhism has distinctive traditions based on the practice of strict asceticism and merit-making, as fundamentally expressed in the carrying out of long-distance pilgrimages (Keyes 1975; Pruess 1976), in the construction and restoration of religious sites (Cohen 2000a; Keyes 1971), and in daily activities undertaken at festivals or monasteries (Davis 1984; Pruess 1979; Swearer 2009; Turton 2006). These Theravada practices, in turn, have played a crucial role in forming and transforming Tai localities and community life. Making long journeys to faraway places in the pursuit of knowledge - to towns, forests or sacred sites - has long been practiced in the Tai world. Monks and laymen still make journeys, seasonally and annually, to pay homage at sacred sites, such as stupas, pagodas and Buddha’s footprints, at the same time taking with them the Buddha’s teachings and images, ancient texts and architectural knowledge. As a consequence, the practices of the Tai Buddhist tradition have mapped out a religious space that cuts across nation-state territories in the upper Mekong region (cf. Cohen 2000b; Keyes 1975). The cross-border journeys of Khruba Khuen and Khruba Saeng Lha, nevertheless, make this point much more complicated. Their religious and regional journeys were historic and transnational in nature. The cultural consequences of these cross-border journeys have had a great impact in reviving Buddhist sites in the places they visited, across the national borders of Myanmar, China and Thailand. Since the end of the Cold War in the 1990s, global and regional economic forces have drastically pushed and pulled the borderlands of the upper Mekong to become a marketplace. The transformation of China, Laos, Vietnam and Myanmar in the post-Socialist age has resulted in changing state policies on border regulation and the development of this region. Moreover, a regional co-operation agreement among the Mekong countries, widely known as the ‘Great Mekong Sub-region’, aimed at boosting and promoting regional trade and investment, has accelerated changes in this border region. The change in state policies and the new flow of capital have deeply and hugely altered the livelihood of residents in those localities. Various kinds of travel along and across this historic frontier have recurred, including the renewed movement of crossborder monks and local pilgrims, as well as forced resettlement and the return of refugees. The journey of the two Khruba Lue monks has been a religious mission across borders. Their cross-border journeys, I would argue, not only reminded people of, and restored, Theravada Buddhism in the area, but also reconnected the Lue, who have lived dispersed across the national borders of northern Thailand, the eastern Shan state of Myanmar and southern Yunnan in China. Ultimately, these transnational journeys have helped to create, not only an influential transnational network, but also a new sense of place and belonging among the Lue residents of the upper Mekong region. In other words, the Khrubas or their representations, such as statues, stupas, Buddha images, amulets, photos, gifts, can still be seen today everywhere in the upper Mekong region; indeed, each Khruba has become an avatar of ton bun in the Lan Na Buddhist world. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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However, as I have argued, ton bun is not simply a form of religious revivalism but is a remembered person; thus, this sign of Theravada tradition is a reflection of mnemonic practice among the Lue members in the Diaspora. A social history of the journeys of the two Khruba Lue monks across borders, as traced through their life stories, represents not only local memories and the history of those places, but also reveals the significant changes that have taken place in these localities as a result of the powerful constraints and structural transformations imposed by the state projects and regional processes of economic development in the borderlands of the upper Mekong.

References Bowie, Katherine. 2014. Buddhism and Militarism in Northern Thailand: Solving the Puzzle of the Saint Khruubaa Srivichai. Journal of Asian Studies 73, 3: 711-732. Cohen, Paul T. 1998. Lue Ethnicity in National Context: A Comparative Study of Tai Lue Communities in Thailand and Laos. Journal of the Siam Society 86: 49-61. ____. 2000a. Lue across Borders: Pilgrimage and the Muang Sing Reliquary in Northern Laos. In Where China Meets Southeast Asia, edited by Grant Evans, Christopher Hutton, and Kuah Khun Eng, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 145-161. ____. 2000b. A Buddha Kingdom in the Golden Triangle: Buddhist Revivalism and the Charismatic Monk Khruba Bunchum. The Australian Journal of Anthropology 11, 2: 141-154. ____. 2001. Buddhism Unshackled: The Yuan ‘Holy Man’ Tradition and the Nation-State in the Tai World. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 32, 2: 227-247. ____. 2002 The Lue Diaspora. paper presented at the 8th international conference on Thai Studies, Nakhon Phanom, Thailand, 9-12 January 2002. ____. 2017. Charismatic Monks of Lanna Buddhism. Copenhagen: NIAS Press and Chaing Mai: Silkworm Books. Condominas, George. 1987. In Search of a Vat: The Dai in Internal and the Lao in External Exile. Proceedings of the International Conference on Thai Studies. The Australian National University, Canberra, 3-6 July, 1987, Volume 3: Part Two, compiled by Ann Buller, Canberra, ANU, pp. 445-466. Connerton, Paul. 1989. How Societies Remember. Cambridge University Press. Davis, Richard. 1984. Muang Metaphysics. Bangkok: Pandora. Davis, Sara. 2003. Premodern Flows in Postmodern China: Globalization and the Sipsongpanna Tais. Modern China 29, 2: 176-203. Evans, Grant, Christopher Hutton, and Kuah Khun Eng, ed. 2000. Where China Meets Southeast Asia. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Grabowsky, Volker. 1999. Forced Resettlement Campaigns in Northern Thailand During the Early Bangkok Period. Journal of the Siam Society 87: 45-86. Keyes, Charles F. 1971. Buddhism and Nation Integration in Thailand. Journal of Asian Studies 30, 3: 551-567. ____. 1975. Buddhist Pilgrimage Centers and the Twelve-Year Cycle: Northern Thai Moral Orders in Space and Time. History of Religions 15, 1: 71-89. ____. 1977. Millennialism, Theravada Buddhism, and Thai Society. Journal of Asian Studies 36, 2: 283-302. ____. 1982. The Death of Two Buddhist Saints. Journal of the American Academy of Religion, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Thematic Studies 4: 3-4. ____. 1992. Who are the Lue Revisited? Ethnic Identity in Laos, Thailand, and China. Working Paper, Centre for International Studies. Cambridge: MIT. Moerman, Michael. 1965. Ethnic Identification in a Complex Civilization: Who are the Lue? American Anthropologist 67, 5 (Part 1): 1215-1230. Pruess, James B. 1976. Merit-seeking in Public: Buddhist Pilgrimage in Northeastern Thailand. Journal of the Siam Society 64: 169-206. Sopa Chanamun. 1991. Khruba Sriwichai: Ton Bun Haeng Lan Na. MA thesis, Faculty of Arts, Thammasat University. [in Thai] Swearer, Donald. 2009. The Buddhist World of Southeast Asia. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Swearer, Donald K. and Sommai Premchit. 1978. The Relation between the Religious and Political Orders in Northern Thailand. In Religion and Legitimation of Power in Thailand, Laos, and Burma, edited by Bardwell L. Smith, Chambersburg Pa: Anima Books, pp. 20-33. Tambiah, Stanley J. 1984. The Buddhist Saints of the Forest and the Cult of Amulets. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tanabe, Shigeharu and Charles F. Keyes. 2002. Cultural Crisis and Social Memory. London: Routledge & Curzon. Tiyavanich, Kamala. 1997. Forest Recollection. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. ____. 2003. Buddha In The Jungle. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Turton, Andrew. 2000. Civility and Savagery. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon. ____. 2006. Remembering local history: Khruba Wajiraphanya (c.1853-1928), Phra Thongthip and the Muang Way of Life. Journal of the Siam Society 94: 147-176. Wasan Panyagaew. 2008. Moving Dai: The Stories of A Minority Band from the Upper Mekong. In Challenging The Limits, edited by Prasit Leepreecha, Don McCaskill, and Kwanchewan Buadaeng, Chiang Mai: Mekong Press, pp. 307-329. ____. 2010. Cross-Border Journeys and Minority Monks: The Making of Buddhist Places in Southwest China. Asian Ethnicity 11,10: 43-59. ____. 2014. Remembering with Respect: History, Social Memory and the Cross-Border Journeys of a Charismatic Lue Monk. In Religion and Mobility in a Globalising Asia: New Ethnographic Explorations, edited by Sin Wen Lau and Nanlai Cao, London: Routledge. Wijeyewardene, Gehan. 1993. Ethnicity and Nation: The Tai in Burma, Thailand and China (Sipsong Panna and Dehong). Paper presented at the 5th International Conference on Thai Studies, SOAS, London.

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The Transformation of an American Baptist Missionary Family into Covert Operatives David Lawitts

Abstract—Harold and Vincent Young were brothers and Baptist missionaries who played a pivotal role in the formation of early American foreign intelligence in Southeast Asia. They capitalized on a unique combination of linguistic abilities, powerful local contacts, and the religious devotion of their followers to organize pro-American paramilitary forces during World War II and the Cold War.

Introduction William Marcus Young was a pioneer American Baptist missionary who proselytized to the ethnic Lahu, Shan, and Wa peoples residing in the mountains of China and Burma (Myanmar). Their ancient oral mythology predicted a “White Man” in “White Robes” would bring them a sacred book containing knowledge of the one true God.1 This providential folk tale provided an open door for Western missionaries who, in the early 1800s, began converting mountain dwellers in numbers hitherto unprecedented in the Baptist Foreign Mission Society.2 William’s sons, Harold and Vincent, were born at the mission compound in China, and, though Caucasian in appearance, were raised with a mindset akin to the local mountain peasants.3 At the outset of World War II, Harold and Vincent’s intimate knowledge of the region and its culture suddenly brought them to the attention of America’s fledgling foreign intelligence efforts in the Pacific. Unlike the former colonial powers, the United States had no significant international intelligence networks to draw on prior to World War II, and therefore sought missionaries as one of the only recruitment pools of Americans with on-the-ground experience, local knowledge, and high-level contacts in regions suddenly vital to U.S. national security. Fluent in six tribal languages, Harold and Vincent were recruited as tribal experts, able to influence the myriad ethnic groups of China, Burma, and Thailand who revered their family as a dynasty of prophets and bringers of the Word of God. Lintner 1999: 50-1; Smith 1999: 454-5. By William Young’s own reports, total converts were as high as 40,000, a number confirmed by his supervisor, J.C. Robbins. American Baptist Foreign Mission Society [ABFMS] FM-307, April 16, 1936. 3 Li 1987: 71. 1 2

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This article argues that the Youngs were uniquely situated to serve the Baptist Foreign Mission Society as well as American and British intelligence services in Southeast Asia, initially through luck and coincidence, and later through a distinct set of specialized skills acquired through decades of life among the hill tribe people.

Pioneer mission: 1861–1899 William Marcus Young was born in 1861 to a Baptist farming family in St. Augustine, Illinois. At age seventeen he began preaching and by 1884 had a following of around sixty church members.4 In the 19th century, American church theology taught that the Second Coming of Christ was contingent upon a worldwide acceptance of the gospel, citing, among other scriptures, Matthew 28: 16-20 (King James Version), in which the resurrected Jesus Christ instructs his disciples to “teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” within “the end of the age”, i.e., before 2000 AD. This millenarian view was responsible for the rapid expansion of mission stations in Asia during the late 1800s,5 and perhaps also for the vision William received on the night of his father’s death as Christ appeared at his bedside and commanded him to leave his country and spread the gospel to the farthest corners of the earth.6 William enlisted with the American Baptist Mission Society, which sent him to British Burma in 1891. The British colonized Upper Burma in 1885, which circumscribed the Chin, Kachin, and Shan States into a growing province of British India. The northern limits of Upper Burma were referred to as the Frontier Areas or Unadministered Territories due to their distance from central government, their inaccessible mountainous terrain, and their ethnically diverse populations resistant to British rule. The British therefore welcomed American missionaries into these outlying territories, hoping they would act as “civilizing agents” and help reign control over recalcitrant areas.7 The first man to translate the Bible into Burmese was the American Protestant missionary, Adoniram Judson, in 1834. Most of his converts were among ethnic Karen, whose ancient traditions spoke of a “White Man” carrying a “Golden Book” who would one day arrive “to bring salvation,” a legend that perfectly prepared the Karen to accept Caucasian missionaries—wearing cool white robes in the tropical climate of Burma and carrying Bibles embossed with gold leaf—as their prophets.8 The Karen are an ethnic minority that live at the lowest elevation of all highland groups in Burma, and were a logical starting point for missionaries who wished to work their way uphill toward the Unadministered Territories. Many Karen were fluent in the languages of their highland minority neighbors through centuries of trade, intermarriage, and casual contact,9 and as American missionaries arrived in British Burma, the Karen worked alongside them as Young, W. “Questions to Candidates for Missionary Appointment.” ABFMS 1889. Hawley 1991: 21-36. 6 Young, H. 2013: 12. 7 Maung Shwe Wa 1963: 119, 160. 8 Anderson 1956:.215-28. 9 Renard 1979: 17-22. 4 5

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interpreters, navigators, emissaries, and assistant preachers. William arrived in Rangoon (Yangon) in 1892, was given a team of four Karen assistants, and trekked north through numerous hill stations within the Shan States of eastern Burma.10 The Shan are a lowland ethnic group closely associated with the Thai. Every five days, as per local tradition, an array of ethnic villages would assemble into a huge bazaar organized by the Shan, and the missionaries knew this was the best place to reach a wide range of people from the surrounding areas.11 William and his Karen assistants preached to the Shan people, but quickly found that they were unreceptive to new religious ideas, sticking adamantly to their Buddhist beliefs. During his first sevenyear term of service, William had zero converts.12

Kengtung, Burma: 1900–1920 In 1900 William received permission to transfer to Kengtung, a small but relatively cosmopolitan town close to the China border. He hoped Kengtung’s ethnic diversity would provide a wider array of cultures that might be open to conversion. Evangelizing at the five-day bazaar, William again got no response from the Shan; however, a group of migrant Lahu traders from China took interest in his sermons. The Lahu are a hill tribe minority living at a higher elevation than the Karen, but had also acquired the mythology of the “White Man, Golden Book.” The Lahu listened to William’s message, and then returned to China to announce that their prophet had arrived. Another ethnic group, the Wa, who live in the highest mountains of China and Burma, also shared the “White Man and Golden Book” myth. Both the Wa and Lahu had contemporary spiritual leaders who, coincidentally, had been preaching for the last decade that “the true God will soon reveal himself” and “we must purify and prepare for his arrival”.13 Now, it appeared, their divinations were correct. These fortuitous elements came together, and within a few years, thousands of Lahu and Wa began requesting baptism at the Kengtung hill station. During this period, William married a fellow missionary, Della Mason, and they had three sons: Harold Mason Young (1901–1975), Marcus Vincent Young (1904–1990),14 and Clarence Young (b. 1907 and died before his second birthday). Harold and Vincent grew up speaking Shan, Lahu, and Wa—frustrating their parents by refusing to speak English for their first five years. By their early teens, they were accompanying their The word “Shan” comes from a Burmese corruption of “Siam”, the former name of Thailand. (Burmese has no final “m” consonant, so “Siam” became “Syan”.) The name indicates that the Shan are not related to any other ethnic group in Burma, and are closer to the Thai, Tai, and Lao people. See Lintner 1999: 52-3. 11 Maung Shwe 1963: 208. 12 Young, W. ABFMS FM-213, January 15, 1901. 13 Young, H. 2013: 32. 14 Marcus Vincent Young was known by his middle name, which he also used in correspondence. This article therefore refers to him as “Vincent” unless citing official Baptist Mission Board correspondence in which he used his full given name. His son, Oliver Gordon Young, took it a step further, using his middle name as his first name not only in everyday interactions, but also as a pen name for his published works. 10

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father on mission trips through the hills for weeks at a time.15 As more Lahu and Wa traveled from China to be baptized, William realized that the biggest populations lay across the border, and received approval from the Baptist Mission Board to open a new station in Yunnan Province, China. But the British government in Burma considered the trip too dangerous, and refused to let him cross the border, citing two reasons: First, in order to cross into Yunnan, the Youngs would have to pass through the territory of the “Wild” Wa, feared for their tradition of headhunting. The Wa were infamous for ambushing and decapitating unsuspecting victims on jungle trails. The severed heads would be placed in wicker baskets atop long bamboo pikes, allowing the blood to drip into bowls of unmilled rice below. Once the rice was soaked with blood, the Wa would scatter it across the fields as a fertility rite for the soil. When the head was fully drained of blood and began to shrink and petrify, the skull was fixed to one of many wooden posts in front of the main village gate, creating a “skull avenue” as a foreboding entrance to a Wa village;16 The second reason was that by 1920 southwestern China was in chaos, overrun with warlords and bandits. Between the death of Yuan Shi-kai, the first president of China, in 1916 and the rise of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek in 1927, there was an eleven-year vacuum of power, giving rise to a number of powerful military cliques. This period of Chinese history, now referred to as the Warlord Era, was a time of violence and xenophobia towards foreigners, especially Westerners.17 The British therefore denied overland passage through Burma to China, and the Youngs instead had to make a dangerous roundabout voyage—sailing from Rangoon into the French port of Haiphong (in present-day Vietnam), then traveling by railroad north to Yunnan, and finally trekking by mule caravan to Yunnan’s western border with Burma to establish a mission station in the village of Banna in 1920.18 The railroad in Haiphong was especially dangerous, and was nicknamed the “Death Railway” due to the number of robberies and bandit attacks. One week before the Youngs’ trip, a Baptist missionary named Dr. Shelton, who was en-route to Tibet, was kidnapped from the Death Railway and held for ransom.19 William and his family, however, reached Banna without incident. The success of this trip into China, where others had perished, helped solidify in the eyes of his followers the mythological status of William Young as a prophet under God’s protection.

Covell 1995: 227. There are a number of contemporary accounts of “Wild” Wa headhunting practices from British colonial sources (see Scott, James George. 1896. “The Wild Wa: A headhunting race.” Asiatic Quarterly Review 3rd series, 1:138-152; Harvey, Godfrey Eric. 193.3 Wa Precis: A Precis Made in the Burma Secretariat of All Traceable Records Relating to the Wa States. Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing and Stationery; Barton, G.E. 1933. Barton’s Wa Diary. Rangoon: G.B.P.C.O), but the most thorough academic treatment is certainly Fiskesjö, Magnus. 2000. “The Fate of Sacrifice and the Making of Wa History,” Ph.D. Thesis, University of Chicago. 17 Ch’i 1976: 131. 18 Li 1987: 38-41. 19 Young, W., ABFMS FM-264, January 23, 1920. 15 16

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Banna, China: 1920–1942 After a few months in Banna, William’s wife, Della, fell ill, and William took her to a French hospital, leaving Harold and Vincent in charge of the mission work for the first time. The brothers were now in their late teens, had grown up speaking multiple tribal languages, had accompanied their father on dozens of mission trips through the mountains, and had traversed dangerous jungles filled with headhunters, thieves, and warlords. With this unique upbringing, Harold and Vincent were now able to manage mission responsibilities on their own, and discovered that they were quite adept working as a team. Harold was the statesman, greeting the headmen at each village, taking census, and determining food, medical and health needs, while Vincent excelled at preaching the gospel. Vincent was studious and reserved, while Harold was affable, gregarious, and, at times, irreverent.20 The brothers proved, in certain ways, even more effective than their father because they could speak multiple local languages with native fluency, and were raised from birth in the milieu of various tribal groups and knew their psychology. Their mannerisms and speech matched the Lahu and Wa to whom they preached—but their outward appearance was that of the White Man of prophecy. This combination had a powerful effect upon a tribal listener already primed through generations of tradition to receive their message.21 In 1921 Della Young succumbed to an undiagnosed nervous disorder, and William returned to Banna, determined not to remarry and to focus the remainder of his life singularly to the mission. The next few years in China were difficult as William, Harold, and Vincent were met with constant opposition. Local Chinese warlords became suspicious of the foreign “agents” who held sway over the local Lahu and Wa and could possibly foment tribal insurrection. The warlords also resented the missionaries’ prohibition on opium and alcohol consumption—two sources of income rendered obsolete in areas under Baptist influence. Local Chinese magistrates and military leaders often tried to commission the non-Christian Wa to assassinate the Youngs, offering “pony-loads” of silver as rewards.22 But the Wa would always return empty-handed and terrified, claiming angelic figures blocked their swords and prevented them from decapitating the missionaries.23 Young, B., November 5, 2010; Young, G., May 8, 2015. Covell 1995: 225-236; Maung Shwe 1963: 412. 22 Young, W. ABFMS FM-264, July 5-28, 1923. 23 William Marcus Young related the most famous of these “dastardly attack[s]” firsthand in a letter to Dr. J. C. Robbins [ABFMS FM-213, February 18, 1925], when a “mob […] several hundred strong” of Wa and Chinese surrounded his family “in a great rage.” Harold and Vincent readied their rifles, but William ordered them to disarm, kneel down, and pray “for the Lord’s protecting care.” The Lahu and Wa leveled their own rifles, but all misfired or jammed; others threw rocks, but all veered in “miraculous curves” around the missionaries’ heads. The Chinese barricaded the gates to the village with huge wooden logs, but Harold “with superhuman strength” tossed them aside so they could escape. At this point, the Wa were so frightened that they turned their guns on the Chinese and insisted they let the missionaries leave unharmed. Regardless of the veracity of this story, the Wa and Lahu accepted it at face value, and retell it to this day as a validation that the Youngs were the true realization of the “White Man, Golden Book” prophecy. 20 21

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The only sources for these confrontations are the firsthand accounts of the missionaries, or stories passed down through generations by the Shan, Wa, and Lahu, and are unquestionably exaggerated or confabulated. In fact, the images of angelic protection matched the prophecies of Lahu and Wa fortune tellers prior to the arrival of the Youngs in Southeast Asia, so it is reasonable to assume the stories were retrofitted to match their predictions.24 True or not, the Young family did survive many years in hostile territory where other missionaries had been kidnapped, killed, simply avoided, or were barred from entering in the first place. As sensational stories spread through the hills, Wa warriors and chieftains began dropping their weapons and asking for baptism, and so began a watershed of conversion in the hills of southwestern China in the 1920s. Because of his ability to survive in these harsh and unwelcoming areas, as well as his massive successes in converting tens of thousands of Wa and Lahu, and for providing medicine, education, and a written language to a formerly illiterate people, William Young was given the Lahu title of “Jaw Maw” or “Man-God.” Harold and Vincent were each dubbed “Jaw Maw Eh” or “Son of the Man-God.” They also earned the respect and allegiance of local strongmen and military leaders. In Banna, a Lahu warrior named Sala Chakaw became the chief security guard at the mission compound, and in Kengtung, a Shan warlord named U Ba Thein became an ardent Christian, volunteering to protect the missionaries from thieves and assailants. Later, when the Young family transitioned from missionaries into covert operatives, these warriors became valuable intelligence assets and guerilla recruiters furthering American military activity in Southeast Asia. William Young died of pernicious anemia on April 8, 1936. He had worked for forty years as a pioneer missionary, personally performing over 40,000 baptisms,25 and, to this day, the Lahu still refer to him as “Ah Pa Ku Lo” or “The Great Grandfather.” After William’s death, his sons inherited the title of Jaw Maw and split the mission field in half: Vincent took the China side, while Harold returned to Burma. The Wa States are divided by the China-Burma border, with the most dangerous and inaccessible villages in the center of Wa territory. Harold and Vincent’s strategy was to try and penetrate these Wa States from both sides to fulfill their father’s goal of converting the entire population of Wa and Lahu. The brothers opened new outstations in Pang Long in 1927, Mang Leun in 1937, and Mong Mao in 193926—all circumscribing the most intractable of the Wa fiefdoms.

Covert operatives: 1942–1945 Missionary work was disrupted when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and then stormed Southeast Asia for three months, invading Siam (Thailand), the Philippines, Malaya (Malaysia), Borneo, Timor, Indonesia, and finally Rangoon, Burma on March 8, 1942. Under extenuating wartime circumstances, Harold and Vincent—both American citizens—were drafted by the British Army and given captain’s commissions. As Axis Thai forces invaded from the south, and Japanese Li 1987: 52; Covell 1995: 222-41. J.C. Robbins, “God’s Frontiersman” ABFMS FM-307, April 16, 1936, 26 Maung Shwe 1963: 413. 24 25

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Helina bombers approached from the north, Harold took command of two battalions of Shan warriors and Vincent two battalions of Lahu. They sent their wives and children on airplanes evacuating Burma to the safety of India.27 The brothers were tasked with defending the territory and property of the hereditary Shan princes, but as the Japanese bombing escalated, the situation became untenable, and Harold and Vincent disbanded their battalions and fled Burma in opposite directions. Harold trekked north from Shan State into Kachin State, to Burma’s northernmost point, staying off the main roads where the Japanese were bombing and traveling under the cover of jungle. At Myitkyina, the capital of Kachin State, a British Spitfire was able to fly Harold to a British Army base in Assam, India, where he resigned his post with the British Army and enlisted with the American Office of War Information (OWI). The OWI was the propaganda counterpart to the American Office of Strategic Services (OSS), which dealt primarily with intelligence and subversion operations. The OSS had developed a three-pronged plan to drive the Japanese out of Burma: First, they would rebuild the Ledo Road, an overland supply route running from northeastern India, through northern Burma, and into southwestern China to send American weapons to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek at his base in Chongqing. Second, a supplementary air route would send additional planeloads of supplies from Assam over the peaks of the Himalayas to Chongqing—a mission so dangerous that pilots said they could eventually throw away their navigational equipment and just follow “the Aluminum Trail” of wreckage beneath them.28 Third, the OSS recruited and trained Kachin guerrillas who knew their native terrain far better than the invading Japanese. The Kachin performed hit-and-run attacks, cut Japanese supply lines, built landing strips in the jungle, and staged other unconventional offensive measures that proved highly disruptive. These objectives were part of OSS Detachment 101’s Schools and Training division. Harold served these three objectives as an OWI jungle survival expert, teaching twoweek courses in jungle familiarization at the forward training area in Taro, Kachin State. At 41 years of age, Harold translated his decades of experience in the mountains of Burma into intensive courses on how to find food and water, build shelters, hunt and trap, and create jungle medicines and poisons. As one OSS member recalled, they learned “how to butcher a boar, how to remove leeches without leaving the heads in your skin—the many uses of bamboo, from food to utensils, to housing, to weapons.”29 Harold compiled his coursework into a U.S. Army training manual, entitled “The Jungle.”30 Harold was also a member of the OWI Psychological Warfare Division (PWD), writing leaflets in the Shan language—one of his five native tongues—to be scattered by plane, containing information on how to resist and combat the Japanese. He helped produce instructional booklets, primers on foreign languages, and “black” counterfeit propaganda designed Young, Ruth. Interview by Herbert Swenson in California. OHE 1/80. Payap University Archives, Chiang Mai, Thailand, 1980; Young, H. ABFMS FM-352, September 12, 1942; Young, M. ABFMS FM-352, July 2, 1942. 28 Webster 2003: 70; Thompson 2002: 51. 29 Sacquety 2013: 147. 30 A copy of the original manuscript is in the author’s files. 27

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to resemble Japanese leaflets but containing material that would offend minority groups in Burma, thereby fostering anti-Japanese sentiment.31 Harold also got a job for his sixteen-year-old son, Gordon, developing photos in the OWI PWD darkroom.32 By 1943 the Japanese had been pushed away from the India-Burma border, and Harold was given command of a labor corps comprised of men from the Garo ethnic minority of northeastern India. The Garo were Baptist and related easily to Harold as he led them in rebuilding roads and repairing other infrastructural damage from Japanese aerial bombardment.33 While Harold’s fate carried him west into India, Vincent moved east into China. In May 1942 Vincent led five British army officers and a fellow missionary on a twomonth trek through 500 miles of jungle from Kengtung, Burma, to Kunming, China—a familiar route he had traveled piecemeal on previous mission trips. Vincent’s linguistic skills, knowledge of the jungle, and personal familiarity with the locals allowed his party secure passage through hostile terrain, safe haven at night in Wa and Lahu villages, and the ability to forage for sustenance on long hikes through the forest.34 On June 24, 1942, their party arrived in Kunming, capital of Yunnan province, where General Claire Chennault’s 14th Air Force was organizing Chinese warlords into Allied paramilitary forces.35 Vincent’s six travel companions were airlifted to Calcutta, but Vincent himself was asked to stay on and, like his brother, work for the OSS. Just as Harold was assisting in the training of Kachin guerillas on the Indian side, Vincent began organizing Lahu and Wa guerilla teams from China. He called upon Sala Chakaw, former security officer at the Banna mission station, and instructed him to move west toward the Burma border, recruiting Lahu and Wa from local villages who wanted to help reclaim their mission fields from the Japanese and Thai (or who were simply willing to take up arms as mercenaries). Sala Chakaw brought recruits to Kunming for training and coordination sessions with Vincent, and then sent them across the border to ambush enemy positions.36 The Wa would split into groups: Most would lie in wait on a jungle trail, while a few would perch in trees near Axis encampments around the Shan States of Kengtung and Meng Hsat. When Japanese or Thai troops advanced far enough away from the safety of their base, the Wa in the trees would shoot mortar rounds into the air using homemade gunpowder, in what Vincent dubbed “jungle telegraphy.” Three mortars resounding through the hills meant “ambush all trails”, and Wa for miles around would spring simultaneously into action, brandishing Dha swords and homemade flintlocks to overwhelm the enemy.37 Both Harold and Vincent were thrust unwittingly into military roles at the outset of the Pacific War. Neither had any formal military training, but they grew up hunting with Fenn 2004: 16-19. Young, G., September 20, 2015a. 33 Young, H. ABFMS FM-352, December 25, 1943. 34 Telford, J. ABFMS, November 2, 1942. 35 Yu 1996: 153, 154. 36 Young, G. 2011b: 24-5. 37 Bigart, H. “Japanese May Lose Heads to Wild Wa’s Dah.” New York Herald Tribune, March 28, 1944; Young, G. 2011b, pp. 78-81. 31 32

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the Lahu, and learning ambush and hand-to-hand combat skills from the Wa. A lifetime of jungle living, knowledge of survival techniques, and their prolific linguistic mastery made the Young brothers prime candidates for recruiting and training local ethnic assets for the OSS and OWI. In return, the Lahu and Wa proved dedicated fighters who were willing to follow the lead of their Jaw Maw, and felt motivated by God to retake their lands from the Axis forces.

Post-war: 1945–1951 With the successes of the OSS operations and U.S. Marines beating back Japanese forces throughout the Pacific, both of the Young brothers were discharged from the American intelligence services. Vincent regarded his work with the OSS as a means to an end: namely, to protect the flock. The more pious of the two brothers, Vincent preferred preaching to cloak-and-dagger intrigue. In May of 1945, Vincent reenrolled with the American Baptist Foreign Mission Society and returned to Kengtung to begin the long task of rebuilding the churches and dormitories destroyed during the war.38 Harold, however, seemed to have found his calling during the war. As a missionary, he preferred the administrative duties of the job to the evangelical, and when the British offered him a position in the newly reclaimed government of British Burma, Harold immediately accepted. He left India in May 1945 and returned to Burma as the Assistant Superintendent of the Northern Shan States, transforming his old mission station at Mang Leun into his new administrative headquarters.39 After the conclusion of World War II, considerable cleanup and rebuilding was needed to fix the damage done by the Japanese, who had not only bombed huge swaths of Upper Burma, but had also released criminals from jails and the mentally ill from insane asylums, who then absconded into the Frontier Areas in Upper Burma. Harold was placed in charge of multiple military units: The British gave him of a 350-man contingent of United Military Police; the Shan princes gave him control of their own personal defense force called the Amo Tham; and he was allowed 7,000 Gurkha troops for special assignments at the border. His tasks included flag runs to China to settle the Burma-China national boundary line, quelling gangs of dacoits pillaging villages along the border, and arresting known collaborators with the Japanese. Harold made a few high profile arrests during this time. First, he captured Jao Maha, the prince of Vieng Ngern, father of the last prince of the Wa States and future head of the Wa National Army, Maha Hsang.40 Harold arrested Jao Maha for revolting against British rule and put him in jail “to cool off” for a while.41 Next, he arrested the Chinese Warlord Khun Ja, uncle and mentor of Khun Sa, who would later become the infamous Maung 1963: 415. Young, Harold. 1946. “Two reports and a letter concerning the Wa tribe and Wa States, by Capt Harold Mason Young (b. 1901), Burma Frontier Service 1946, Assistant Resident, Northern Shan States 1946.” Mss Eur C710. British National Archives. 40 For one of the only published accounts detailing Jao Maha as an influential Wa warlord of the late 19th century, see Scott 1901: 490-1. 41 Young, B., November 17, 2011. 38 39

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“Heroin King” and leader of the Mong Tai Army beginning in the 1970s.42 Khun Ja was charged with banditry and collaboration with the Japanese. Harold, acting as prosecutor, judge, and jury, sentenced Khun Ja to death, ordering him executed by gunshot to the head, and that the corpse be floated down the Salween River “as a message.”43 In 1948 Burma gained independence from the British, and Harold’s commission as Assistant Superintendent came to an end. He fell back on his old profession and submitted an application to reenlist with the American Baptist Foreign Mission Service. It had been more than thirteen years since he had furloughed to the United States, however, so the Board told Harold to take some time off for training and reorientation. Arriving in California, he met with the Board, and was furious to discover that they had deceived him into returning to sign his termination paperwork in person.44 The American Baptists were wary of political influence and partisan sway affecting missionary decision-making in the field, and they were suspicious of Harold and his service with the British Army, the OWI, and three-year employ as Assistant Superintendent in British Burma. Harold’s son, Gordon, also applied for foreign mission service, and was also rejected, likely for the same reasons.45 The Board, however, was unaware of Vincent’s involvement with the OSS and allowed him to continue his missionary work in Kengtung unobstructed.

“Operation Paper” In 1947 the OSS was absorbed into the newly created Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) to better deal with the growing threat of communism.46 In 1949 Communist forces took over China—then in 1950 they pushed south of Korea’s 38th parallel to start the Korean War. The Truman administration scrambled to find a way to counter the threat of communist incursion further south into Indochina. One idea was to reequip the Chinese Nationalists—or Kuomintang (KMT)—who had fled into Burma after Mao Zedong’s Red Army had forced them out of Yunnan.47 The CIA believed that there were upwards of one million anti-communists in Yunnan, waiting for a catalyst to spark an uprising. The plan, code-named “Operation Paper”, was to send airlifts of weapons and rice to the KMT in Burma, who would then storm back into Yunnan, strike at the communists, and rouse the latent million anti-communists to revolt. The CIA chose northern Thailand as a base of operations, creating the American Consulate in Chiang Mai in 1951 as a center for the clandestine activities of Operation Paper.48 In 1951 Harold Young and his son, Gordon, had been recruited by the CIA and sent to Chiang Mai. They wanted Harold for his respected status as Jaw Maw, and his highlevel contacts inside Burma. Gordon was recruited as a Morse code radio operator, a skill he developed while serving in the U.S. Army in Korea. Their role in Operation Paper Khern Sai 1993: 4. Young, B. November 7, 2011. 44 Young, B. January 8, 2011; Young, H. ABFMS December 30, 1951. 45 Young, G. May 4, 2011a. 46 Prados 2006: 32. 47 Fineman, 1997: 137-43, 144-6; Smith 1999: 120, 152-8. 48 Prados 2006: 134-8. 42 43

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was to create Lahu intelligence teams who would go into China and radio information about numbers of communist troops, order of battle, deployment, weaponry, and troop movements. They used this information to coordinate airdrops to the KMT, as well as to plan incursive raids into communist territory in Yunnan.49 After arriving in Chiang Mai, Harold and Gordon called again upon their old family friend, Sala Chakaw, who traveled between Thailand, Burma, and China to recruit Lahu and Shan to work for the CIA. In Meng Hsat, Burma, Sala Chakaw made contact with U Ba Thein, the Shan warlord who had formerly provided protection to the Kengtung mission compound. U Ba Thein was facing imprisonment and possible assassination for clashing with troops of the newly independent Burma and was grateful to have refuge in Thailand where he would be protected and funded under the auspices of the CIA.50 With these two respected ethnic leaders functioning as principal agents, Harold and Gordon began expanding operations, establishing a safe house and a radio shack on Suthep Mountain on the outskirts of Chiang Mai to teach radio operation and Morse code to Christian Lahu and Shan recruits. After training, they dispatched the teams into Yunnan to gather intelligence. Baptist affiliation meant that most of the Lahu recruits were literate, able to read and write the Romanized Lahu alphabet that the Youngs had helped develop. The characters of the Lahu and Shan languages were truncated into “cut-code” or simplified Morse code used to relay short pieces of intelligence from the Yunnan field to the radio shack in Chiang Mai.51 The Christian operatives also had the added motivation of fighting an atheistic communist enemy bent on eradicating their religion, “the opiate of the people.”52 Non-Christian Lahu and Shan, on the other hand, were neither motivated by faith nor could they serve as intelligence officers or radio operators. They were, however, excellent hunters and marksmen, and were able to provide security for the literate Baptist radio operators. Harold and Gordon were thus able to capitalize on their missionary background and adapt their experience into a specialized set of military skills that no other U.S. agents possessed. Concurrent with Operation Paper in 1951, the CIA also helped Thailand create an elite unit of police Special Forces called the Border Patrol Police (BPP), which was supported by the Thai Royal Family, especially by King Bhumibol Adulyadej.53 The BPP were mostly ethnic Thai, but were tasked with blocking communist incursion along the north and northeastern Thai border, composed mostly of ethnic minority and hill tribe populations. Harold Young was therefore recruited to instruct the BPP on what to expect in terms of ethnography, language, and terrain along the border. He also taught jungle survival, as he had done earlier with the OWI and OSS, using an empty field next to Suan Dok Temple just outside of Chiang Mai City, and taking the troops on long treks through the Suthep and Inthanon mountains. As a cover for their covert activities with the CIA, Harold and Gordon received personal commissions as field collectors for the entomology and herpetology departments McCoy 2003: 339. Young, B. February 11, 2011; Young, G. May 2, 2011a. 51 Young, B. February 19, 2011; Young, G. September 12, 2015a. 52 Marx 1970: iv. 53 Fineman 1997: 182-3; Warner 1996: 16, 76-7. 49 50

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at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City.54 Both born and raised in a hill tribe environment, they were familiar with species that were then otherwise unknown to Westerners, and they were able to organize Lahu teams to collect animals throughout Thailand, Laos, and Burma. They housed larger animals on their family property in Chiang Mai, and as their collection grew, the prominent Nimmanhaemin family called upon the Governor of Chiang Mai and members of the Royal Forestry Department to designate a sizable portion of land to create a proper zoo. On April 6, 1957, Harold Young was named the first director of the Chiang Mai Zoological Gardens and held that position until the day he died in 1975. For the remainder of their employment with the CIA, the zoo served as a cover for Harold and Gordon’s clandestine activities.55 In the end, however, Operation Paper was a dismal campaign, producing only negative results for the U.S. The supposed million anti-communists lying in wait proved a huge overestimate, and each time the KMT stormed Yunnan, the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) quickly forced them back into Burma. After a failed raid in 1953, the PLA discovered the bodies of two CIA field advisors among the dead KMT soldiers. The Chinese brought this to the attention of the Burmese, who were furious that the U.S. was conducting illicit operations within their sovereign territory, taking voluminous evidence before the United Nations in condemnation of American covert activity.56 The unintended consequences of Operation Paper for the U.S. included the effective severing of U.S.-Burma relations, as well as allowing the KMT to quickly rise as the dominant force in Burma’s opium trade thanks to the supply of vast amounts of surplus American weapons. Operation Paper also had a detrimental impact on Vincent Young, who had been working at his Kengtung mission compound since 1945. As Harold and Gordon’s Lahu intelligence teams moved from Thailand into China and back again, they would rest overnight at the midway point in Kengtung. There is no evidence that Vincent was involved in his brother’s covert operations other than providing food and sanctuary to the transient Lahu teams, but the Baptist Foreign Mission Board was nonetheless suspicious. An internal memo mentioned the “rumor in regard to Vincent’s connections with the KMT” and whether they should renew his contract and “risk complications with either the Burma and Thailand governments.”57 In November 1956 the Board asked Vincent to return to California for a regular furlough, and when he complied, they forced him to sign termination papers—exactly as they had done to Harold eight years before.

Conclusion Much of William Marcus Young’s initial success as a Baptist missionary seemed almost preordained. The British desire to pacify the Frontier Areas allowed a symbiotic relationship in which American missionaries could thrive, and the legendary stories of the “White Man and Golden Book” made the missionaries’ work much easier than they Young, G., April 30, 2011a. Ibid. 56 Lintner 1999: 125-162; McCoy 2003: 162-78. 57 Young, M. ABFMS FM-396, December 12, 1956. 54 55

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expected. But the difficult conditions of the field—floods, malaria, hostilities from local rulers and warlords—meant that only a hardy missionary could survive. An obituary of William Young by his supervisor, J.C. Robbins,58 entitled “God’s Frontiersman”, described his “vigorous personality, sturdy physique, and daring spirit” that allowed him to work the field for more than forty years, survive clashes with would-be assassins, and develop a legendary status amongst his tens of thousands of followers as a prophet protected by the force of God. For William’s sons, Harold and Vincent, the transition from missionary to covert operative was involuntary; they were compelled by the conditions faced during World War II to restructure members of their congregations into guerilla and intelligence operatives. Funding and logistical support from American clandestine services allowed Harold and Vincent a way to safeguard their beloved Wa, Shan, and Lahu congregations—but it ultimately cost them their jobs as missionaries as the American Baptists grew wary of clergy using evangelism as deep cover for covert activity. In short, the Young brothers were forced to become spies during World War II, estranging them from the Baptists, and pushing them deeper into the arms of the OSS and CIA. Even though some of their covert activities yielded negative results, Harold and Vincent thrived in their respective positions. As native highlanders themselves, they were uniquely suited to carry out American military operations using local proxy forces, and could communicate and empathize with their agents in ways no American-born operative ever could. Their remarkable linguistic and cultural know-how were valuable assets during the 1940s and 1950s, and helped rebuke the cartoonish stereotype of the ignorant, hapless, and arrogant American operatives depicted in Lederer and Burdick’s The Ugly American (1958) or Graham Greene’s The Quiet American (1955). At a time when America had few trustworthy assets in Burma, China, or Thailand, the Young family became ideal liaisons between the United States and Southeast Asia.

References American Baptist Foreign Mission Society [ABFMS]. Records, 1817 – 1959 [Microform]. (Records concerning the Baptist Missionaries William Marcus Young, Harold Mason Young, Marcus Vincent Young, Raymond Buker, Richard Buker and James Haxton Telford.) [Reel Nos. FM-41, FM-213, FM-233, FM-264, FM-279, FM, FM-307, FM-323, FM-352, FM-368, FM-396.] University of Chicago’s Regenstein Library, call number: BV2520.A55 1817a. Anderson, Courtney. 1956. To the Golden Shore: The Life of Adoniram Judson. Valley Forge: Judson Press. Bigart, Homer. 1944. “Japanese May Lose Heads to Wild Wa’s Dah.” New York Herald Tribune, March 28. Covell, Ralph R. 1995. The Liberating Gospel in China: The Christian Faith among China’s Minority Peoples. Michigan: Baker Books. Fenn, Charles. 2004. At the Dragon’s Gate: With the OSS in the Far East. Maryland: Naval 58

J.C. Robbins. ABFMS, April 16, 1936. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Institute Press. Fineman, Daniel. 1997. A Special Relationship: The United States and Military Government in Thailand, 1947-1958. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi. Hawley, Joshua David. 1991. “The Kingdom of God is Near: Christian Conversion and Political Change in the Highland Zone of Mainland Southeast Asia.” M.A. Thesis, University of Wisconsin-Madison. Hsi-Sheng Ch’i. 1976. Warlord Politics in China 1916 – 1928. California: Stanford University Press. Khern Sai. 1993. General Khun Sa: His Life and His Speeches. Chiang Mai: Shan Herald Agency for News. Li, Tseng Hsiu (Carol). 1987. “The Sacred Mission: An American Missionary Family in the Lahu and the Wa Districts of Yunnan, China.” M.A. thesis, Baylor University, Waco, Texas. Lintner, Bertil. 1999. Burma in Revolt: Opium and Insurgency since 1948. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Marx, Karl. 1970. Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right. Translated by O’Malley, Joseph and Annette Jolin. London: Cambridge University Press. Maung Shwe Wa. 1963. Burma Baptist Chronicle. Erville Sowards and Genevieve Sowards (eds.). Rangoon: University Press. McCoy, Alfred W. 2003. The Politics of Heroin: CIA Complicity in the Global Drug Trade. Chicago: Lawrence Hill Books. Prados, John. 2006. Safe For Democracy: The Secret Wars of The CIA. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, Renard, Ronald Duane. 1979. “Kariang: History of Karen-T’ai Relations from the Beginnings to 1923.” Ph.D. Thesis, University of Hawaiʻi. Sacquety, Troy J. 2013. The OSS in Burma: Jungle War against the Japanese. Kansas: University Press of Kansas. Scott, James George. 1901. Gazetteer of Upper Burma. Rangoon: Superintendent, Government Printing. Smith, Martin. 1999. Burma: Insurgency and the Politics of Ethnicity. Bangkok: White Lotus,). Thompson, Julian. 2002. The Imperial War Museum Book of the War in Burma 1942–1945. London: Pan Books. Warner, Roger. 1996. Shooting at the Moon. Vermont: Steerforth Press. Webster, Donovan. 2003. The Burma Road. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Young, Bill. 2010–2011. Personal interviews, October-May. Young, Gordon. 2011a. Personal interviews, April–May. ____. 2011b. Journey From Banna: An Autobiography. United States of America: Xlibris Corporation. Young, Harold. 1946. “Two reports and a letter concerning the Wa tribe and Wa States, by Capt Harold Mason Young (b1901), Burma Frontier Service 1946, Assistant Resident, Northern Shan States 1946.” Mss Eur C710. British National Archives. ____. 2013. To the Mountain Tops: A Sojourn Among the Lahu of Asia. United States of America: Xlibris. Young, Ruth. 1980. Interview by Herbert Swenson in California. OHE 1/80. Payap University Archives, Chiang Mai, Thailand. Yu, Maochun. 1996. OSS in China: Prelude to Cold War. New Haven and London: Yale University Press.

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From Wat Arun: Photographers in Bangkok in the 1860s Joachim K. Bautze

In the 1860s, several photographers took panoramic views of the Chao Phraya River from a vantage point at Wat Arun. Apparently the earliest of these views, a glass stereoview, was photographed by Pierre Rossier (1829-1886), either in the second half of 1861 or the first half of 1862. Early publications reversed the view,1 shown correctly in Figure 1, which largely corresponds to a woodcut published on 17 May 1862 in Saxony.2 John Thomson arrived in Bangkok on 27 September 1865,3 left for Angkor on 27 January of the following year, returned to Bangkok on 19 April only to leave soon thereafter for Britain. It is, therefore, most likely that Thomson took his views from Wat Arun between October and December 1865, as he was quite busy taking photographs of royal ceremonies in early January 1866. Thomson’s much published photograph (Figure 2) shows a number of structures not present in Rossier’s photograph, including the “Foreign Affairs Office and Justice Court,” to the north of the “Nokyung City Gate” outside the city wall, and the “Chedi dedicated to King Rama IV under construction.” This is the tall structure surrounded by wooden scaffolding.4 Another view of the Wat Pho area, as seen from Wat Arun (Figure 3), was taken by Johann August Sachtler, who announced his presence in the Bangkok Recorder on 16 September 1865: MR. A. SAIHTLER [sic], Photographer. Begs to inform the inhabitants of Bangkok, that he has arrived here upon a visit, and during his stay will be glad to take portraits, landscapes and views of houses etc. of all sizes, to 15 inches. His atelier is at Falks Hotel New Road. 1

Bonhams [sale of] India & Beyond. Travel & Photography. Part II. London: Bonhams, Knightsbridge, 4 October 2011, p. 66, lot 513, https://www.bonhams.com/auctions/18942/lot/513/ Present whereabouts unknown. 2 Illustrirte Zeitung. XXXVIII. Band, Nr. 985, Leipzig, 17. Mai 1862, p. 328: “Bangkok, Hauptstadt des Königreichs Siam. Nach der Zeichnung eines Mitgliedes der preußischen Expedition (Bangkok, Capital of the Kingdom of Siam, after a drawing of a member of the Prussian expedition).“ 3 Bangkok Recorder, Vol. I. No.18, 30 September 1865, p.184, column 3: “The Steamer Chow Phya arrived at the bar at 4 1/2 o’clock P.M. on Wednesday 27th ult. Passengers [...] Mr. Thomson photographer.”. 4 See Paisarn Piemmettawat, Siam. Through the Lens of John Thomson 1865-66 (Bangkok: River Books, 2015), pp. 100-1. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Figure 1. Pierre Rossier

Figure 2. John Thomson

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Figure 3. August Sachtler Figure 4. Francis Chit

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August Sachtler was a Prussian, who started taking photographs in about 1856. He assisted the official photographer of the Prussian East Asian expedition in Japan, Carl Bismark.5 He had his own photographic studio in Singapore from at least July 1864 onwards,6 and died in Singapore on 7 April 1873.7 Francis Chit (1830-1891) advertised his studio in the bi-weekly English newspaper, the Bangkok Recorder, on 16 January 1865, as follows: FRANCIS CHIT. PHOTOGRAPHER. Begs to inform the Resident and Foreign community, that he is prepared to take Photographs of all sizes and varieties, at his floating house just above Santa Cruz. He has on hand, for sale, a great variety of Photographs of Palaces, Temples, buildings, scenery and public men of Siam. Parties can be waited on at their Residences. Terms - Moderate.8

Perhaps inspired by these predecessors, Chit took a famous panorama from Wat Arun, including Figure 4 at the left-hand end. However, Figure 5, further to the left, was not published at the time and, together with another image,9 finally completes his early panorama of Bangkok (Figure 6) A study of the details in these photographs from Wat Arun shows that Thomson’s was the earliest, followed by Sachtler, followed by Chit. 5

Dobson, Sebastian: Unintended Consequences: Photography and the Prussian East Asian Expedition. In: Under Eagle Eyes. Lithographs, Drawings and Photographs from the Prussian Expedition to Japan, 1860-61. Edited by Sebastian Dobson & Sven Saaler (München: IUDICIUM Verlag GmbH, 2011), pp. 255-315. 6 The Straits Times, Singapore, 22 October 1864, page 5, advertisements, column 1. 7 Dobson, Sebastian, note 5, supra, p. 314, note 70. 8 Bangkok Recorder, Volume I, no.1, 16 January 1865, p. 6. 9 See Bautze, Joachim K.: Unseen Siam. Early Photography 1860-1910 (Bangkok: River Books, 2016), p. 100, Plate 20.

Figure 6. Francis Chit: the panorama with Figure 5 added

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From Wat Arun: Photographers in Bangkok in the 1860

Figure 5. Francis Chit: the missing left-hand photograph

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On the Thai Monarchy William J. Klausner

I would ask for your indulgence and forgiveness if I, an expatriate, misinterpret any aspect of King Rama IX’s royal projects and the unique nature of the King’s relationship with his subjects. My first introduction to the concept of the Thai monarchy occurred in 1954 at Yale graduate school where I studied the theory of Thai monarchs throughout history: first as the King of Righteousness, the Great Elect; followed by The World Conqueror, World Turning Monarch; then the Devaraja and, finally, the present approved concept of the King as a Dhammaraja, ruled by the Dharma and possessing the Ten Kingly Virtues. However, no such academic knowledge could have prepared me for the dynamic role King Rama IX was to play during his reign as the moral center and the soul of the Thai nation. I came to Thailand in late 1955 to undertake a year-long ethnographic research study in a small village in Ubon Ratchathani. A few months later I was able to join thousands of the King’s subjects in greeting him as he was making the first up-country visit of his reign, with hundreds more to follow during the succeeding decades. At the grounds of the Ubon provincial center, the King, accompanied by the Queen, talked to his prostrated subjects as he stepped on white cloths placed at his feet. These cloths, imbued with his sacred essence, were later placed on residential alters as objects of devotion. This experience in Ubon gave me the first inkling of the depth of loyalty, devotion and awe in which the Thai public held the King. The 19th century essayist, Walter Bagehot, referred to such “mystic reverence” for a monarch as “imaginative sentiment” which Thais have stretched to new levels in relation to their beloved King Rama IX. The royal projects have played a significant role in positively impacting the livelihood and well-being of the people of Thailand. Thousands of projects were royally initiated in such diverse fields as health, environmental protection, access to water, flood control, irrigation, alternative cropping and efficient use of forest areas. Although I have not had the opportunity to observe these projects in the field, I have read and edited hundreds of pages describing them in detail. It is clear that His Majesty studied and undertook research as how to overcome the difficulties facing his subjects prior to initiating these royal projects. He then monitored and evaluated the projects during and after their implementation. Thus, the beneficiaries of these projects were inevitably drawn closer to their King, while always accepting that there was space between the sublime and celestial presence of the King and the mundane world. Those positively helped by these projects came to believe that their relationship with their King was a Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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crucial element in defining their personal identity as a Thai and in enhancing their selfworth and self-confidence. This connection and the sense of personal identity relating to King Rama IX’s role are often misunderstood by foreigners. This is perhaps not surprising, as those outside of Thailand have little frame of reference given their often quite different and often antithetical history, culture, core values and appropriate behavior and practices. It is difficult to explain to outsiders in any meaningful way such Thai concepts as karma, the Dharma, merit, charisma, Devaraja and the bonding relationship of the King and his subjects while nevertheless preserving a reserved distance between them. I have endeavored, over the past six decades, to try and bridge the chasm of misunderstanding in regard to these elements and, in so doing, increase understanding and decrease the often negative judgmental reactions of those beyond Thai shores. As to His Majesty’s side of the relationship with his subjects, it is the Thai belief that the King, on assuming the throne, does so due to a surfeit of karma amassed during past lives. Such good karma is the result of manifold good deeds beneficially undertaken with compassion. Similarly, a certain level of barami, or charisma, of reserved power, would inevitably be his. However, dharma and barami in Thai terms are not static but rather are dynamic. Thus, King Rama IX, by his meritorious deeds, as evidenced in his myriad royal projects, measurably enhanced his positive karma. At the same time, his charisma was dramatically heightened over time by his moral probity and his adhering to the Ten Kingly virtues as he graciously undertook his royal projects with integrity, fairness, honesty, benevolence, compassion and perseverance. It was his ever-increasing boundless charisma that enabled King Rama IX to gain the cooperation, support and acceptance of his royal project initiatives on the part of both the bureaucracy and the affected public. At the same time, his counsel, advice and critiques on issues affecting the well-being of the Thai body politic were accepted and acted upon. As for the King’s subjects, I would suggest there has been a constant effort over timesometimes direct, sometimes indirect, sometimes consciously, sometimes subconsciouslyto draw closer and identify with the King and, thus, feel under his protection. The strategies to do this have been manifold. One could, for example, do so by observing and participating from afar in reverential awe as arcane ceremonies and rituals were performed in all their majesty and mystery. One could also wear certain colors identified with the King to pay homage to him on his birthday, when he was ill and on his recovery. One could also pay tribute to and honor the King by dedicating lectures, concerts, performances, book publications and sports events in his name. All of these efforts on the part of his subjects drew individual Thai citizens into the King’s orbit, closer to the luminance of his nimbus, his halo. Thus, one would come under the protection of the King and under the welcomed shade of his nine-tiered umbrella. This sense of identification, even from afar, helps explain the father-child identity relationship of the King and his subjects. This connection is reified in Father’s Day being celebrated on the King’s birthday. The above explanation of the abiding loyalty and reverence of the Thai people and their inexorable twinning efforthowever partial, however limitedmay help explain the wearing of black for one year and the intensity of their mourning, as the King who, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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in Thai terminology, ascended into heaven on his passing. I would suggest that, in both life and death, many of the King’s subjects in their cultural subconscious viewed him as a Devaraja descended from the gods in heaven. Thus, although King Rama IX is no longer in this mundane world, he lives on in the hearts and minds of his subjects. He remains an integral part of each individual Thai identity and of the Thai national identity. It may be expected that more than a few Thais will develop future strategies to assure that they will continue to remain under King Rama IX’s protection and beneficence.

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Review Article

Nalanda, Srivijaya and Beyond: Re-exploring Buddhist Art in Asia, edited by Gauri Parimoo Krishnan. (Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum, 2016). ISBN: 978-98109-9912-4. S$35.00. The volume under review is a collection of selected papers delivered at a conference held in Singapore at the Asian Civilisations Museum (2008) in conjunction with the special exhibition, On the Nalanda Trail: Buddhism in India, China and Southeast Asia. This compilation of ten essays claims to offer new perspectives on Indian, Chinese, and Southeast Asian Buddhist art in general and of the premodern interaction that took place between “Nalanda” and “Srivijaya” in particular. Indeed, by the 8th–9th centuries, an artistic dialogue between maritime Southeast Asia (Java and Sumatra, the Malay Peninsula) and the Pāla homeland in Bihar was taking place. This dialogue has often been recognized by scholars, not least because Bālaputradeva, the Śailendra king of Suvarṇadvīpa, which most probably refers to the Śrīvijaya kingdom in Southeast Sumatra, erected a Buddhist monastery at Nālandā in the 9th century; this we learn from the famous Devapāla’s copper-plate. The volume’s editor, Gauri Parimoo Krishnan, must be commended for her determination in bringing this compendium to fruition even though, as she concedes, “the book took much longer than anyone would have imagined” (p. 4). This state of affairs is somewhat regrettable for two reasons. First, a number of authors in this volume who put their papers on hold for so long understandably found a way to publish their work in one form or another elsewhere. Second, and perhaps most importantly, a good deal of other recent studies and new research on intra- and inter-Asian linkages and Buddhist networks has since come to light. In general, both the essays and the volume’s bibliography (pp. 268–291) have not been sufficiently updated to reflect these recent works (as my own bibliography shows below). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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After a short introduction (pp. 9–13), the initial essay by editor Gauri Parimoo Krishnan sets the volume’s tone. It focuses on the “Transmission of Buddhist Ideology, Monastic Organization, and Artistic Expression in Asia” (pp. 15–25). The author discusses various scholarly theories about how Indian and Buddhist cultures appeared in Southeast Asia. Krishnan opens her essay by referring to the authoritative works by Herman Kulke and Sheldon Pollock and advocates the notion of “cultural convergence” that has become the theory of choice for many scholars today, even though it may be in need of serious reconsideration.1 Recent scholarship stresses that cultural development in Southeast Asia did not exactly or even necessarily parallel that in India but had its own unique trajectory and identity.2 In addition, her essay suffers from certain misconceptions and clichés that are too often repeated in secondary literature. One misconception is that, according to the Chinese pilgrim monk Yijing (635–713 CE) who travelled in India, both “Mahayana and Theravada existed side by side” (p. 19). This assumes that these two terms, Theravāda as a “monastic school” (nikāya) and Mahāyāna as a “vehicle” (yāna), were distinct categories that could be put on a par with each other. Here and later, the author clearly fails to distinguish the terms Theravāda, Sthavira, Hīnayāna, or Śrāvakayāna, and wrongly assumes they are analogous; they are not. In all likelihood, monks and nuns who presumably adhered to Mahāyāna texts and motives in India both lived in the same monastic communities as Śrāvakayānists (i.e. “those who follow the path/vehicle of the hearers/disciples”) and followed the Vinaya of an old nikāya, for example that of the Dharmaguptakas or the (Mūla-)Sarvāstivādins composed in Sanskrit and predominant in today’s China and Tibet, but unlikely that of the Theravādins written in Pali and used essentially today in Sri Lanka and mainland Southeast Asia.3 The volume’s second essay is by Frederick M. Asher, titled “Xuanzang at Nalanda” (pp. 27–36).4 The importance of Xuanzang’s account in the study of ancient India cannot be underestimated. For much of the 19th century, British “gentlemen” archaeologists and scholars followed the routes of the Chinese pilgrim (602–604 CE) to reconstruct the history of the places he visited, just as modern tourists in India follow the Lonely For critiques of Pollock, see Bronkhorst 2011, and Ali 2011. Problems with the concept of cultural convergence are also highlighted in Brown 2017. 2 Two recent collections of papers that reassess the idea of “Indianization” vs “Localization” in mainland Southeast Asia are Revire & Murphy 2014, and Murphy & Stark & 2016. For the case of maritime Southeast Asia, see Acri 2017. 3 The Sanskrit compound *mahāyānasthavira (Ch. dasheng-shangzuo) reported by the Chinese pilgrims in India literally means “Mahāyāna elders” or “elders/senior monks [not necessarily Theravādins] who follow the Mahāyāna.” Put simply, the dichotomy made by Krishnan and others between Mahāyāna and Sthavira/Thera[vāda] Buddhist monks is wrong. Max Deeg has recently put forward a hypothesis that the same compound was an invention or even an attempt by Xuanzang “to upgrade the otherwise, at least in a Chinese context, low-ranked Hīnayāna-sthaviras to the respected status of Mahāyāna-monks” (2012: 153). In addition, Peter Skilling discusses a donative inscription in the present volume under review which relates the “pious gift of a senior monk” (deyadharmoyaṁ sthavira) on the pedestal of the female Mahāyāna deity Cundā (pp. 68–69, figs. 18–19). 4 By the same author, see Asher 2015. For a new English translation of Xuanzang’s Xiyu Ji, see Li 1996. 1

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Planet guidebook. Asher rightly calls into doubt the overused English translation by Samuel Beal and also questions the extent to which we can use this resource to obtain a reliable picture of the Nālandā monastery during the pilgrim’s stay there. Obviously, the bits of information provided by these foreign and intermittent pilgrims’ accounts are necessarily of limited value when describing the continuous history of Nālandā. Xuanzang’s clear attempt is to link the site with the miraculous life of the Buddha “even though there is no material evidence that the place has a history prior to the Gupta period” (p. 31). Asher also contests the notion that Nālandā was an institution of higher learning in the modern sense (p. 35). In seals and copper-plate inscriptions excavated at the site, Nālandā is invariably called a mahāvihāra, that is, a “great monastery”—even if it could never have accommodated the often large reported numbers of thousands of monastic residents. But Nālandā was never termed a mahāvidyālaya, i.e. a “university” or “great seat of learning.” The third essay, by Suchandra Ghosh, concerns “Mainamati: An Enigmatic Centre of Buddhism in Southeastern Bangladesh” (pp. 37–50).5 Maināmatī is not a single site but a region dotted with more than fifty ancient Buddhist settlements dating between the 7th and the 12th century CE. The most important of these sites is the Salban Vihāra where many archaeological elements and Buddhist antiquities were discovered, such as miniature stūpas in bronze (e.g. p. 46, fig. 8, which the author erroneously labels, “votive stupa”). These miniature bronze images certainly hold a major position in the introduction of metal casting in maritime Southeast Asia (compare the bronze stūpa found in Peninsular Thailand, p. 165, fig. 10a). Bronze sculptures certainly reached a high level of craftsmanship during this period, with production also including largesize images of various Mahāyāna and tantric deities, as illustrated by the magnificent Vajrasattva sculpture (p. 45, fig. 7). It appears that during this period, most kings patronized Buddhism in the form of land-grants although, as Ghosh aptly emphasizes, “royal patronage cut across [the] personal religion of the rulers” (p.  39). This is an important statement which is generally valid for all other Buddhist sites found in BiharBengal during the Pāla-Sena period (8th–12th c.). For example, if the second and third known Pāla kings, Dharmapāla and Devapāla, clearly made significant contributions to such great Buddhist monasteries as Nālandā, they, at the same time, patronized Hindu establishments. Likewise, almost every other Pāla ruler did not actually profess Buddhism, but adhered to Hinduism, even though they used the dharmacakra royal seal and the title paramasaugata or “supreme follower of Sugata” (i.e. the Buddha) in an “ecumenical” manner.6 But what made the region of Maināmatī so special, stresses Ghosh, is the landscape, the region’s strong economic base and agrarian resources to support the monasteries, and its geographically favorable position along the trade routes and networks of communication with other Buddhist centers in East Bengal and maritime Southeast Asia. The next essay by Peter Skilling, “Writing and Representation: Inscribed Objects Another version of this paper was published as Ghosh 2015. For a more recent review on the patronage of the Pālas and other dynasties such as the early Candras of Southeast Bengal, see Bautze-Picron 2016: 167–170.

5 6

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in the Nalanda Trail Exhibition” is thorough and instructive (pp. 51–99). Skilling starts by stating “inscriptions were not written for the benefit of future historians,” but rather were composed “to formalize grants or acts of merit” (p. 52). He then goes over a series of early examples of donative and label inscriptions found on sculptures from Bhārhut, Pauni, and Sāñci (pp. 53–58, figs. 1–7). To this corpus we can now add the recently published material from Kanaganahalli in Karnataka (Hinüber 2014). Importantly, certain early Buddha or Bodhisattva images produced in the vicinity of Mathurā are inscribed with donative records dated to the Kaniṣka era (pp. 60–63, figs. 10–13), which Skilling assumes started in 78 CE. Following Harry Falk’s lead (2001), however, has led to significant reconsiderations in the chronology of the Kushan era in the last decade and 127 CE seems to have now reached a certain agreement amongst scholars as the beginning year (Bracey 2017). Skilling then goes on to enumerate the variant list of donative formulae, such as “deyadharma…,” “yad atra puṇyaṁ…,” and so on. These inscriptions were often accompanied by other ritual formulae, spells, and incantations (mantras and dhāraṇīs), such as the popular ye dharma stanza, “fundamental to the early transmission of the Dharma” (p. 73), or the formula of dependent origination, which spread throughout Northern India as well as Southeast Asia either in Pali or Sanskrit.7 In one special case, the back of a bronze frame from Kurkihār bears a long dhāraṇī inscription opening with the consecrated ye dharmā formula in Sanskrit using the Siddhamātr̥kā script (pp. 82–83, figs. 30–32, Appendix on pp. 90–91). This dhāraṇī is popularly known as the “casket seal” (Karaṇḍamudrādhāraṇī), variants of which have also been discovered on stones inscribed at the Abhayagiri Vihāra in Anurādhapura, Sri Lanka, and, more recently, at Udayagiri 2 in Orissa (Tanaka 2014; Mishra 2016: 77–79, figs. 7–9). These discoveries point to possible direct cultural contacts between these regions. After all, we know from dedicatory inscriptions that Kurkihār was often visited and sustained by monks and lay donors from various parts of “Southern India,” especially hailing from Kāñcī (Prasad 2014). However, we do not know to what extent this Buddhist network may have also included the region of Orissa and the Sri Lankan sphere. To date, it has not been discovered in Southeast Asia but a copy of this dhāraṇī is known to have been brought to Japan from China by the scholar-monk Kūkai, also known as Kōbō Daishi (776–835), the founder of the Shingon school, in the early 9th century (Giebel 2012: 218, no. 26). Many clay sealings or molded tablets bearing various mantras and dhāraṇīs have also been found in the Malay Peninsula, often deposited in remote caves (pp. 86–87, figs. 34–35). For example, a number of clay tablets have recently been found at Khao Nui cave in Trang province. Some of these tablets bear, on the back, an abbreviated inscription of the Four Truths of Buddhism in Sanskrit (Revire 2015: 301–303, figs. 26.4–26.6) which may or may not have functioned similarly as a mantra. Following Skilling’s discussion is an essay on “Buddhism in the Bujang Valley, Kedah (5th to 10th Century)” by Nik Hassan Shuhaimi Nik Abdul Rahman (pp. 101–128). Before the 1970s, research on the Bujang Valley in the northwest of the upper Malaysian For a recent survey of mantras and dhāraṇīs in ancient maritime Southeast Asia, see Griffiths 2014. 7

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coast was done mainly by Western archaeologists (Murphy 2018). Nik Hassan is one of the most esteemed local archaeologists trained in the 1980s to continue research there. He has published countless books and articles on this topic in recent decades which have introduced a periodization of the early history of the Bujang Valley. He has also published a theory explaining the process of indigenization of the Indic culture which formed the socio-economic makeup of the region in the pre-Islamic era. Located near three rivers, the Sungai Bujang, Sungai Muda, and Sungai Merbok, the valley has yielded ancient ruins and artifacts from a “lost” Hindu-Buddhist civilization. These remains include inscriptions, sculptures,8 and monuments showing Buddhist influence dating approximately from the 5th century onwards. The most important Buddhist inscriptions Nik Hassan lists here (pp. 103–104) are the so-called great mariner Buddhagupta and the Bukit Miriam inscriptions; unfortunately, the content seems to partially elude him. In fact, these inscriptions have been shown to refer in part to a peculiar Buddhist formula found elsewhere in ancient inscriptions from maritime Southeast Asia. Importantly, this formula is unknown in Indian sources and has yet to be traced to any Buddhist texts. This inscription is the ajñānāc cīyate karma stanza, which can be interpreted as a summary of the dependent origination, often found in conjunction with the ubiquitous ye dharmā verse and associated with stūpa reliefs (Skilling 2015). Regarding Buddhist monuments, Nik Hassan and his team’s latest excavation conducted in the Bujang Valley was in 2006–07 at Site 32, located in the vicinity of the Sungai Mas (pp. 122–124). The excavated structure, possibly a stūpa, yielded beads, ceramics, and vessels from the Middle East and China datable to the 8th to the 9th century. The diversity of these discoveries in the region of South Kedah (known in Chinese sources as Jiecha) seems to confirm that it was an important entrepôt actively engaged in international trade during this period. It was also probably linked by transpeninsular routes with the Yarang site (Langkasuka) on the opposite coast, in today’s Pattani province in Southern Thailand. This connection has been demonstrated by the late Michel Jacq-Hergoualc’h (1992 and 2002) in his exhaustive published research on the Malay Peninsula which was not cited by Nik Hassan. The next essay, by John Miksic, reviews the evidence for “Buddhism in the Straits of Melaka and the Archaeology of Srivijaya,” (pp. 129–151).9 Miksic rightly recalls that “the earliest evidence of Indic religion in this realm consists of Buddhist texts” found in the region of South Kedah (see discussion above). However, the paleographic dating traditionally given for these inscriptions to the 5th century CE is not totally certain (they may be relatively dated anywhere later up to the 7th century). At any rate, I do not think we can assume that these inscriptions were the earliest composed in Southeast Asia and preceded the famous Vo-canh Sanskrit inscription found in Campā (i.e. Central Vietnam, now approximately dated to the late 4th or the early 5th century; cf. Zakharov 2010), or even perhaps the earliest Pali inscriptions found at Śrīkṣetra in Upper Myanmar, probably also composed in the 5th–6th century (Falk 1997). The Buddha image depicted seated in the earth-touching gesture with the left hand (p. 109, fig. 9) is a printed mistake showing a reversed mirror-image (cf. Jacq-Hergoualc’h 1992: 239, doc. 256). 9 A variant of this paper has been published elsewhere as Miksic 2010. 8

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My cautionary remark is equally valid for the early archaeological evidence briefly discussed from Yarang and hastily dated by the author to the 5th century. This again seems a bit too early, for even if two Sasanian coins allegedly found there and kept in private hands are correctly attributed to the reign of King Peroz I (ca 457–483 CE), these coins “do not permit us to assign a date to the places where they were found, as they were evidently in use over a very long period” (Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: 191). We are on better grounds, however, for dating the presence of Buddhism in Śrīvijaya (pp. 131ff), that is, originally the region of Palembang in Southern Sumatra. Here we have securely dated inscriptions from the late 7th century (p. 134, fig. 3) as well as Yijing’s account in which the pilgrim wrote that he visited [Shili-]Foshi in 671 CE for six months. Śrīvijaya (Shilifoshi) then became an important center for the expansion of Buddhism in maritime Southeast Asia, lasting to the 12th century or so. The nature of Buddhism in Sumatra, Java, and Southern Thailand is then discussed by the author. It was apparently deeply influenced by Mahāyāna and Vajrayāna beliefs, as evidenced from the sheer number of statues of Bodhisattvas and other Buddhist tantric deities and utensils discovered in the region. Importantly, Miksic adds that “the repertoire of images found in Indonesia overlaps but does not duplicate that found in Nalanda” (p. 141). The task of the next essay by G.P. Krishnan is to precisely describe “The Roots and Legacy of the Art of Nalanda as seen at Srivijaya” (pp. 153–199). Here the authoreditor acknowledges the many “roots” and “legacies” in the art of Śrīvijaya beyond Nālandā.10 Śrīvijaya should no longer be viewed as a “sub-style of Central Java,” since it has its own “distinct identity” (p. 154). This is a welcome change since Śrīvijaya has too often been characterized as a cultural potpourri of ancient Southeast Asia. Krishnan then emphasizes (p. 157) the presumably important role played by travelling images carried by monks and lay worshippers, such as miniature bronzes into Southeast Asia, which may have served as models or prototypes for the transfer of knowledge. This is a sound hypothesis and I think we can push it even further. Robert Brown (2014) recently proposed elsewhere that the sudden burst of metal icons in India circa the 6th century and their subsequent spread into Southeast Asia created the opportunity for a popular Buddhism by placing images into the hands of non-monastic practitioners who could carry them outside of the monastery context. In the same vein, Krishnan also suggests that sādhanās and other ritual manuals ought to have played a decisive role in transmitting a certain iconography to artists-craftsmen. However, a sādhanā literally describes a particular mode of worship or spiritual practice in Indian esoteric Buddhism; it is primarily a visualization practice for the practitioner or a conjuring ritual that prescribes for each deity a repertory of iconic representations, accoutrements, and regalia, dhāraṇīs or mantras, hand gestures (mudrās), and body postures (āsanas). A sādhanā does not directly include the instructions for sculpting an icon per se, as opposed to śilpaśāstras which reflect older Indian conventions for painting and image-making. It is clear that, following the arrival of such tantric masters She writes that “more detailed study on sites such as Kurkihar, for example, needs to be undertaken to explore the regions beyond Nalanda in Eastern India and Bangladesh which exerted stylistic as well as iconographic influence on Myanmar and Sumatra” (p. 193). Her wish has since been fulfilled with the following publications by Prasad 2014 and Bautze-Picron 2015. 10

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as Vajrabodhi (671–741) and Amoghavajra (704–774) who traveled from India to China by the sea route and spent some time in what is now Indonesia, we see a proliferation of esoteric texts, images, and practices in maritime Southeast Asia.11 We do not know however if these texts were also followed by sculptors, or if śilpaśāstras likewise circulated in early Southeast Asia. But surely this religious and cultural intercourse helps explain the emergence of such images as the twelve-armed Avalokiteśvara, one of the rarer forms of this Bodhisattva, in both Nālandā (p. 184, fig. 24) and Southeast Asia.12 Having said the above, Krishnan again stresses that these artistic “influences” to Southeast Asia “are not one off or from one region alone, but continue across several centuries from various coastal regions, and need to be examined in waves or phases” (p. 174). Along this line of thought, some interesting parallels between the Buddhist caves of the Maharashtra region in Western India and (Pen)insular Southeast Asia have been recently observed, including images of the ascetic form of Avalokiteśvara, possibly dating back to approximately the mid-to-late 7th century (Sundstrom 2015). I also believe that some iconographic and stylistic features observed in the rock-cut art of the western Deccan caves contributed to the development of early Javanese Buddhist sculpture and imagery dateable to approximately the late 8th through the 9th century. One important case is the enthroned Buddha type in bhadrāsana―performing the dharmacakra hand gesture―and attended by two Bodhisattvas. The most famous example of this enthroned Buddha is the central triad carved in stone enshrined at Candi Mendut, near Borobudur, Central Java. In my opinion, the latter sculptures draw their artistic inspiration almost directly from the post-Vākāṭaka model of Ellorā, especially Cave 12 (Revire 2017). While Krishnan also acknowledges the later impact of Cōḻa styles on Śrīvijaya sculptures at the beginning of the second millennium (pp. 190–191), a case can be made that, at times, Southeast Asian iconography also had an impact on later Indian sculptures, particularly at Nāgapaṭṭiṇam, one of the last Buddhist strongholds in Southern India.13 However, this hypothesis requires further studies. The next two essays deal with representations of Avalokiteśvara in China. Teoh Eng Soon writes about “The Chinese Assimilation of Avalokiteśvara” (pp. 201–221), while Ho Puay-Peng’s concern is “Housing the Colossal Images of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva in 10th Century China” (pp. 223–242). We learn from both that an independent cult of this most popular Bodhisattva in East Asia was first introduced to China by at least the 3rd century where the Great Savior is extensively discussed in one specific chapter of the Lotus Sūtra (Dharmarakṣa’s earliest Chinese translation is dated 286 CE). There, we find a list of misfortunes from which Avalokiteśvara—who came to be widely known in China as Guan[shi]yin (“One who observes sounds”)14—can save a human being For more on these “esoteric networks”, see Acri 2016. Several examples have been found in Thailand, see Woodward 2003: 86–91, pl. 18. 13 For a recent overview of the history of Nāgapaṭṭiṇam, see Ray 2015. 14 It appears that the original Indic form of the name (probably in Gāndhārī) was actually Avalokitasvara, “One who observes sounds” (i.e. the cries of sentient beings who need help) or “One who observes thinking.” This earlier name was later supplanted by the Sanskritized form containing the ending –īśvara, “lord,” i.e. Avalokiteśvara. For two fascinating and recent excursuses on the etymology of the Bodhisattva’s names used in early Chinese sources, see Nattier 2007 and 11

12

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and another list of ways in which he can appear before these beings to guide them. The Great Savior was indeed known as “Lord of travelers” as we hear from the testimonies of Faxian (ca 337–422 CE) and Xuanzang in their respective travel accounts. Besides, a recent study has shown that the roots of Faxian’s devotion towards Avalokiteśvara during maritime distress on his return journey to China can be traced back to the early influence of Dharmarakṣa’s translation of the Lotus Sūtra (Hu-von Hinüber 2015). Visual depictions of the aṣṭamāhābhaya Avalokiteśvara, i.e. “protecting from the eight (sometimes ten) great perils,” found at various Buddhist sites in India, starting at Ajaṇṭā, are also likely based on this specific literary description from the Lotus Sūtra or that found in the Kāraṇḍavyūhasūtra (Bautze-Picron 2004: 236ff, figs. 34, 37, Appendix 2). Moreover, Guanyin, the compassionate Bodhisattva, can transform into many different forms in order to cross over to the sentient beings. Originally represented as a male in India, the images are more generally those of a female figure in China since approximately the Tang period (618–907 CE). Perhaps confusion arose with his female aspect in the guise of Tārā. Generally, he/she appears with one face and two arms, but at other times with many more arms and heads in tantric forms. Two peculiar esoteric manifestations that began to flourish in China and Japan during this period were the Eleven-Headed (ekādaśamukha) and the Thousand-Armed (sāhasrabhuja) Avalokiteśvara; this is when some images of colossal proportions of the Bodhisattva started to appear. Only one possible Indian sculptural antecedent of the Eleven-Headed form is known, from Cave 41 at Kanheri, which is an important testimony of India’s sustained cultural and religious contacts with Central Asia and China. As it happens, rare examples of the Eleven-Headed Avalokiteśvara are also attested in Khmer art between the 10th and 13th centuries (Green 2014). The final essay of this volume by Rajeshwari Ghose is entitled “Kizil, The Hospitable Halt on The Silk Road” (pp. 243–267). This area, associated with the ancient oasis kingdom of Kucha, was a commercial hub of the Silk Road visited by Xuanzang in 630 CE. The caves are said to be the earliest major Buddhist cave complex in China, with development occurring between approximately the 3rd and the 8th century. The caves display Indian, Gandhāran, and Sasanian, rather than Chinese, styles in their artwork. Significant mural paintings remain in situ today, although the German explorer Albert von le Coq chose to remove several fragments in the early 20th century, most of which are now kept in the Museum of Asian Art in Berlin. Ghose notes that there has been a growing scholarly interest in Kuchean mural paintings in recent years.15 The early murals mostly depict jātaka and avadāna stories, as well as legends of the Buddha, and are, according to the author, an artistic representation in the tradition of the school of the (Mūla-)Sarvāstivādins. I would dispute, however, some of these attributions as necessarily belonging to this school. For example, I do not agree with her when she writes about the episode dealing with the temptation of the Buddha by Māra’s daughters who “are transformed into decrepit and ugly old women,” or when she insinuates that depictions of the “Buddha’s Taming of the Six Heretics Masters” Karashima 2017. See also Bautze-Picron 2004: 232. 15 See for example a series of articles by Zin 2005–13. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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at Kizil, i.e. “The Great Miracle of Śrāvastī,” are unique to the Mūlasarvāstivādins (p. 249). Many depictions of these two episodes are known in mainland Southeast Asia as well, predominantly in a Theravāda milieu (e.g. Brown 1984; Stadtner 2015). The rear chamber of the Kizil caves often features the mahāparinivārṇa scene in the form of a mural or a large sculpture (pp. 249–250, figs. 4–5) but a great many caves were probably just vihāras, that is, monks’ living quarters and storehouses, or even perhaps meditation caves, and do not contain mural paintings. Importantly, Buddhist manuscripts written in Tocharian languages were also found at Kizil, several of which describe meditation manuals that later probably played a vital role in the transmission of such practices in East Asia. At this juncture, I would like to make a critical note on some of the terminology that occurs throughout the volume. I have already challenged artificial boundaries or categories created by scholars, especially art historians, such as “Theravada” and “Mahayana” (Revire 2013: 236; see also my remarks above). The history of Theravāda is long and convoluted. We learn from another recently published collection that Theravāda is a term with multiple meanings and varying significance (Skilling et al. 2012). The modern notion of “Theravāda Buddhism” as an ancient and homogeneous school of Buddhism is out of date. Likewise, “Mahāyāna Buddhism” (not to mention Vajrayāna) should no longer be perceived as an entirely uniform and monolithic movement since, in India alone, distinct Mahāyāna communities were based on different scriptures, developing in various places and at different times. I am also not sure why such phrases as “Dhyānī Buddhas” or “Jina Buddhas,” appear here; all Buddhas (“awakened ones”) are Jinas (“conquerors” or “victors”) after all. These “ghost” terms were invented by modern scholars in the 19th–20th century. They do not exist in any Buddhist original text and should no longer be used. Skilling informs us in his authoritative essay (p. 92, n. 28) that texts simply call them the “five Buddhas,” “five Tathāgatas,” or “five Jinas.” Similarly, the term “votive,” which is extensively used here, as in “votive tablets,” or “votive stupa,” seems equally inappropriate. These Buddhist artifacts bear no comparisons to other objects for which the term is commonly used, such as medieval Christian tablets (ex voto) expressing gratitude to a saint, which now crowd the walls of European churches. There are also a certain number of inconsistencies and infelicities using diacritics throughout the volume, for example the Sanskrit name Viṣṇu and the word uṣṇīṣa are constantly misspelt as Viśnu and uśniśa (e.g. pp. 24, 192). Some of the important sites mentioned in this volume shown on the overview map (p. 8) are also clearly incorrectly located, such as Kizil in Central Asia. To conclude, while I may not agree wholly with some of the observations and conclusions presented by various authors in this volume, there is no denying the value of such a collective effort in attempting to assemble our current knowledge of Buddhist art in the region and proposing new interpretations based on archaeological, epigraphic, and artistic evidence. The present volume offers a particular challenge to scholars to re-examine the art of Nālandā, Śrīvijaya, and beyond in light of some of the stimulating ideas raised in this work. Nicolas Revire Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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References Acri, Andrea (ed.). 2016. Esoteric Buddhism in Mediaeval Maritime Asia: Networks of Masters, Texts, Icons. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Acri, Andrea. 2017. “‘Local’ vs. ‘Cosmopolitan’ in the Study of Premodern Southeast Asia.” Suvannabhumi 9(1): 7–52. Ali, Daud. 2011. “The Early Inscriptions of Indonesia and the Problem of the Sanskrit Cosmopolis.” In Manguin, Pierre-Yves, Mani, A. & Wade, Geoff (eds.), Early Interactions between South and Southeast Asia: Reflections on Cross-Cultural Exchange. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 277–297. Asher, Frederick M. 2015. Nalanda: Situating the Great Monastery. Mumbai: Marg. Bautze-Picron, Claudine. 2004. “The Universal Compassionate Bodhisattva: Miscellaneous Aspects of Avalokitasvara/Avalokiteśvara in India.” Silk Road Art and Archaeology 10: 225–290. Bautze-Picron, Claudine. 2015. The Forgotten Place: Stone Images from Kurkihar, Bihar. New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India. Bautze-Picron, Claudine. 2016. “Images of Devotion and Power in South and Southeast Bengal.” In Acri, Andrea (ed.), Esoteric Buddhism in Mediaeval Maritime Asia: Networks of Masters, Texts, Icons. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 163–190. Bracey, Robert. 2017. “The Date of Kanishka since 1960.” Indian Historical Review 44(1): 21–61. Bronkhorst, Johannes. 2011. “The Spread of Sanskrit in Southeast Asia.” In Manguin, PierreYves, Mani, A. & Wade, Geoff (eds.), Early Interactions between South and Southeast Asia: Reflections on Cross-Cultural Exchange. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 263–275. Brown, Robert L. 1984. “The Śrāvastī Miracles in the Art of India and Dvāravatī.” Archives of Asian Art 37: 79–95. Brown, Robert L. 2014. Carrying Buddhism: The Role of Metal Icons in the Spread and Development of Buddhism. Amsterdam: J. Gonda Fund Foundation of the KNAW. Brown, Robert L. 2017. “The Trouble with Convergence.” In Dallapiccola, Anna L. and Verghese, Anila (eds.), India and Southeast Asia: Cultural Discourses. Mumbai: K R Cama Oriental Institute, pp. 37–50. Deeg, Max. 2012. “Sthavira, Thera and ‘*Sthaviravāda’ in Chinese Buddhist Sources.” In Skilling, Peter et al. (eds.), How Theravāda is Theravāda: Exploring Buddhist Identities. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, pp. 129–162. Falk, Harry. 1997. “Die Goldblätter aus Śrī Kṣetra.” Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde Südasiens 41: 53–92. Falk, Harry. 2001. “The Yuga of Sphujiddhvaja and the Era of the Kuṣâṇas.” Silk Road Art and Archaeology 7: 121–136. Ghosh, Suchandra. 2015. “Understanding a Site: Case Study of Mainamati in Southeastern Bangladesh.” In Mokammal H Bhuiyan (ed.), Studies in South Asian Heritage: Essays in Memory of M Harunur Rashid. Dhaka: Bangla Academy, pp. 311–317. Giebel, Rolf. 2012. “Notes on Some Sanskrit Texts Brought Back to Japan by Kūkai.” Pacific World: Journal of the Institute of Buddhist Studies, Third Series, 14: 187–230. Green, Phillip S.E. 2014. “The Many Faces of Lokeśvara: Tantric Connections in Cambodia and Campā between the Tenth and Thirteenth Centuries.” History of Religions 54(1): 69–93. Griffiths, Arlo. 2014. “Written Traces of the Buddhist Past: Mantras and Dhāraṇīs in Indonesian Inscriptions.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 77: 137–194. Hinüber, Oskar von. 2014. “Kanaganahalli Inscriptions.” Annual Report of the International Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Research Institute for Advanced Buddhology at Soka University, Supplement 17: 11–149. Hu-von Hinüber, Haiyan. 2015. “Faxian’s (法顯) Worship of Guanshiyin (觀世音) and the Lotus Sūtra of 286 (正法華經).” Annual Report of the International Research Institute for Advanced Buddhology at Soka University 18: 311–319. Jacq-Hergoualc’h, Michel. 1992. La civilisation de ports-entrepôts du Sud Kedah (Malaysia): Ve–XIVe siècle. Paris: L’Harmatthan. Jacq-Hergoualc’h, Michel. 2002. The Malay Peninsula: Crossroads of the Maritime Silk Road (100 B.C.–1300 A.D.). Brill: Leiden. Karashima Seishi. 2017. “On Avalokitasvara and Avalokiteśvara.” Annual Report of the International Research Institute for Advanced Buddhology at Soka University 20: 139–165. Li Rongxi (trans.). 1996. The Great Tang Dynasty Record of the Western Regions. Translated by the Tripiṭaka-Master Xuanzang under Imperial Order; Composed by Śramaṇa Bianji of the Great Zongchi Monastery (Taishō, Volume 51, Number 2087). Berkeley: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research. Miksic, John. 2010. “The Buddhist-Hindu Divide in Premodern Southeast Asia.” NalandaSriwijaya Centre Working Paper 1 [Accessible Online: http://nsc.iseas.edu.sg/documents/ working_papers/nscwps001/pdf]. Mishra, Umakanta. 2016. “Dhāraṇīs from the Buddhist Sites of Orissa.” Pratnatattva 22: 73–84. Murphy, Stephen A. 2018. “Revisiting the Bujang Valley: A Southeast Asian Entrepôt Complex on the Maritime Trade Route.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Third Series, 28(2): 355–389. Murphy, Stephen A. and Stark, Miriam T. 2016. “Introduction: Transitions from Late Prehistory to Early Historic Periods in Mainland Southeast Asia, c. Early to Mid-first Millennium CE.” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 47(3): 333–340 [The Archaeology Issue]. Nattier, Jan. 2007. “Avalokiteśvara in Early Chinese Buddhist Translations: A Preliminary Survey.” In Magee, William & Yi-hsun Huang (eds.), Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara (Guanyin) and Modern Society: Proceedings of the Fifth Chung-Hwa International Conference on Buddhism. Taipei: Dharma Drum Publishing Corporation, pp. 181–212. Prasad, Birendra Nath. 2014. “The Socio-Religious Dimensions of Dedicatory Inscriptions on Sculptures Donated to a Buddhist Establishment in Early Medieval Magadha: Kurkihar, c. 800–1200 CE.” The Journal of the Oxford Centre for Buddhist Studies 7: 116–152. Ray, Himanshu Prabha. 2015. “A ‘Chinese’ Pagoda at Nagapattinam on the Tamil Coast: Revisiting India’s Early Maritime Networks.” IIC: Occasional Publication 66. New Delhi: India International Centre. Revire, Nicolas. 2013. “Book Review of The Roots of Thai Art, by Piriya Krairiksh (English Translation by Narisa Chakrabongse), Bangkok, River Books, 2012.” Journal of the Siam Society 101: 233–242. Revire, Nicolas. 2015. “Some Newly Discovered Tablets from Peninsular Thailand.” In Tan, Noel Hidalgo (ed.), Advancing Southeast Asian Archaeology 2013: Selected Papers from the First SEAMEO-SPAFA International Conference on Southeast Asian Archaeology. Bangkok: SEAMEO-SPAFA, pp. 301–307, figs. on pp. 336–339. Revire, Nicolas. 2017. “From Gandhara to Java? A Comparative Study of Bhadrasana Buddhas and their Related Bodhisattva Attendants in South and Southeast Asia.” In Dallapiccola, Anna L. & Verghese, Anila (eds.), India and Southeast Asia: Cultural Discourses. Mumbai: K R Cama Oriental Institute, pp. 279–304. Revire, Nicolas & Murphy, Stephen A. (eds.). 2014. Before Siam: Essays in Art and Archaeology. Bangkok: River Books & The Siam Society. Skilling, Peter. 2015. “An Untraced Buddhist Verse Inscription from (Pen)insular Southeast Asia.” In Lammerts, D. Christian (ed.). Buddhist Dynamics in Premodern and Early Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Modern Southeast Asia. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 18–79. Skilling, Peter et al. (eds.). 2012. How Theravāda is Theravāda? Exploring Buddhist Identities. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Stadtner, Donald M. 2015. “‘Father, Please Give Us Back our Beauty’: The Daughters of Mara in the Art of Burma.” Arts of Asia 45(2): 93–105. Sundstrom, Sofia. 2015. “The Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara in the Thai-Malay Peninsula and Western Indonesia: The Early Development of Buddhist Imagery in Insular Southeast Asia.” Rian Thai: International Journal of Thai Studies 8: 227–256. Tanaka Kimiaki. 2014. “オリッサ州ウダヤギリⅡ出土の 石刻陀羅尼につい [A Newly Identified Dhāraṇī-sūtra from Udayagiri II].” The Memoirs of Institute for Advanced Studies on Asia 166: 134[151]–124[161] [In Japanese with English Abstract]. Woodward, Hiram. 2003. The Art and Architecture of Thailand. From Prehistoric Times Through the Thirteenth Century. Leiden: Brill. Zakharov, Anton O. 2010. “A Note on the Date of the Vo-canh Stele.” The South East Asian Review 35(1–2): 17–21. Zin, Monika. 2005–13. “The Identification of Kizil Paintings [I–VI].” Indo-Asiatische Zeitschrift 9: 23–36/ 11: 43–52/ 12: 50–61/ 14: 22–30/ 15: 57–69/ 17: 5–15.

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Charismatic Monks of Lanna Buddhism, edited by Paul T. Cohen. Copenhagen: NIAS Press, 2017. ISBN 978-87-7694-194-9 (hardback), £50.00; ISBN 978-87-7694-195-6 (paperback), £18.99. Charismatic monks have long held a fascination for scholars of religion in Thailand. The devotion they inspire in their followers, sometimes numbering into the millions, seems to run counter to the process of “disenchantment” caused by economic and social development. The implicit resistance such figures often pose to the centralising modern Thai state also makes them of interest. But perhaps what most attracts modern scholars is the otherworldly nature of their charismatic authority, the product of ascetic endeavours including prolonged periods of deep meditation, renunciation of the world, and living life according to a religious rule. They are different from us, and what is different demands explanation. Among the best known such monks are Somdet To, Achan Man, Luang Pu Waen and the semi-legendary Luang Pu Thuat, to name just a few. But Paul Cohen’s edited volume, Charismatic Monks of Lanna Buddhism, is the first collection of essays to examine this phenomenon in northern Thailand. It contains eight studies. Katherine Bowie’s essay, which begins the volume, gives an account of the most famous charismatic Lanna Buddhist monk of them all, and the one to whom all subsequent charismatic monks refer: Khruba Siwichai (1878-1938).1 She contextualises Khruba Siwichai’s well-known resistance to the centralising Thai Sangha by placing him within the history of a once independent Lanna Sangha, which was distinctive in many respects from the 1

Khruba is a local term of respect used in the north for venerated monks. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Thai Sangha to the south. Paul Cohen’s own essay compares the charismatic monks of Lanna and Isan (the northeast). Anthony Irwin looks at Khruba Kham La and Khruba Intha, two charismatic monks in the northern province of Chiang Rai. Michael Gravers writes about the influence of the charismatic monk, Khruba Wong, among the ethnic Karin in northern Thailand. Kwanchewan Buadaeng’s study is of the monk, U Thuzana, and his influence among the Karen lay Buddhist community along the Thai-Myanmar borderlands. Sean Ashley writes about Khruba Thueang, held in respect by the ethnic Dara’ang, or “Silver Palaung”, community of northern Thailand. The final two essays, by Amporn and Kataoka, consider the popularity of Khruba Bunchum, the most famous contemporary charismatic monk of the northern Thai-Myanmar borderlands among the Shan and Lahu peoples respectively. This volume gives welcome attention to the centrally important concept of barami. This Thai term, deriving from the Pali word parami, is usually translated as “perfection”. Barami is associated with the Theravada Buddhist doctrine of the bodhisatta, a being who has made the vow to achieve enlightenment in a future incarnation. The bodhisatta must then set out to accumulate the “ten perfections” (Generosity, Wisdom, Patience, Virtue, etc.) over countless incarnations in order to reach a state of human perfection that will allow him to become enlightened, i.e. to achieve Buddhahood. The Jātaka tales, popular all over the Theravada Buddhist world, tell the story of Gautama Buddha’s own accumulation of barami over the course of 550 incarnations while he was still a bodhisatta. But modern-day charismatic monks of northern Thailand, also known as ton bun, chao ton bun, nak bun, phu mi bun (p. 1), also follow this example. They are implicitly or explicitly understood to be bodhisattas, similarly intent on achieving Buddhahood in a future incarnation, accruing barami, or charismatic authority, along the way. Importantly, the bodhisatta may concurrently be a prince or a king. This implies that the authority held by these charismatic monks encompasses the religious as well as the temporal sphere – not that this separation is necessarily recognised by their followers. For this reason the Thai state has always regarded such figures warily. Khruba Siwichai was highly controversial in his time. He was detained on numerous occasions in Lamphun, Chiang Mai and Bangkok, removed from his administrative position as abbot, and taken by police to Bangkok for investigation in 1920 and 1935 (pp. 27-8). Both the Thai and Myanmar governments today similarly monitor and try to control the movement and activities of contemporary charismatic monks in the north. Like Khruba Siwichai, these monks are constantly manoeuvring to evade such attempts by the authorities. One of the things that makes this study of the charismatic monk tradition of the north particularly fascinating is the local context of religious and ethnic diversity in which the monks operate. Bowie’s essay highlights the religious distinctiveness of the Lanna Sangha, and its resistance to attempts by the Thai Sangha, beginning in the 1920s, to impose its orthodoxy. Cohen argues that the Lanna schools of meditation bear similarities to the yogavacara tradition, where in addition to the “Triple Gem” (the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha), the practitioner pays homage to the meditation subject and the meditation master (pp. 6, 76). Numerous essays note the importance that the northern charismatic monks place on vegetarianism, which, to my knowledge, is not reflected in the Theravada traditions in any other part of the country. Kataoka shows Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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how the Lahu have incorporated aspects of their pre-Buddhist millenarian tradition into their Theravada Buddhist worship to create a rather heterodox practice, which seems to worry no-one. On the other hand, Kwanchewan argues that some Karen have made a clear break from their “ancestral and local territorial spirits” to devote themselves to the khruba (p. 153). Ethnically, the picture is complex. Central Thai officials and wealthy middle-class patrons from Bangkok interact with the northern Thais (or Yuan), Karen, Shan, Lahu, Palaung, Chinese, and others. A number of the khrubas frequently traverse the Thai-Myanmar border, alternately residing among the ethnic communities on one side of the border or the other. The combination of ascetic endeavour with economic and social development is another theme of the volume. Central to the khrubas’ activities is building or restoring temples. Khruba Siwichai again provides the classic example. In the 1930s, he famously oversaw the construction of a twelve-kilometre road to the top of Doi Suthep (p. 14). Contemporary charismatic monks are actively engaged in development projects and other activities aimed at improving the material well-being of their followers. They willingly accept donations from wealthy patrons to finance such activities. On the board of Khruba Bunchum’s “foundation” sit members of the Thai military, the bureaucracy, big business and a Bangkok media company (pp. 205-6). Here, asceticism seems to sit comfortably with money-making. Countering all these forces that one might suppose could tend towards entropy is the integrating force of the charismatic khrubas and the Theravada tradition of asceticism they represent. One of the themes that a number of the contributors return to is the khrubas’ attempt to create a “Buddhaland” (Pali: Buddhadesa) (p. 4). Here, ethnicity, modern borders, and the worldliness of material accumulation seem to fade before the encompassing conception of a Buddhist kingdom under the authority of these charismatic figures. It is tempting to compare the apparent popularity of the concept of the Buddhaland to that of the caliphate among some Muslim communities. Both are religiously-based conceptions of an ideal state rooted in the past, whose history was abruptly interrupted by colonial incursions. Both have recently been revived in those regions where problems associated with contemporary nation-states are felt most intensely. All the essays are rich in ethnographic detail. But this strength might also limit the volume’s accessibility. In some cases, the reader may feel overwhelmed by the sheer abundance of raw information about this or that particular khruba and the community he serves. The book will certainly be a boon for specialists on northern Thai Buddhism, and scholars of Thai Buddhism more generally. Outside this field it may be more difficult for scholars to engage wholly with this volume. Max Weber’s classic discussion of charismatic authority offers an opportunity for scholars outside this geographical region to engage. Cohen, Irwin, and Gravers all reference Weber, but the discussion of how the northern Thai monks might advance Weber’s notion of charisma is limited. Gravers goes the furthest in suggesting that charisma may have “reappeared as a modern global force”, but the point is not followed up (p. 119). One question that could have been asked, with Weber in mind, is whether the prevalence of the khruba tradition in northern Thailand, i.e. the apparent thriving of charismatic authority in this region, reflects the limitations or even perceived failure of both “traditional” and “rational-legal” authority Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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the other two of Weber’s three types of authority – in northern Thailand. This might be due to such factors as the end of the Chiang Mai monarchy, the region’s geographic and cultural distance from Bangkok, the relative lack of economic development, the high degree of ethnic diversity, and the fact that the contiguous regions in Myanmar and Laos have also been relatively freer from state authority, as James Scott argued in his provocative 2009 book, The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia. Nevertheless, this is a strong collection of essays. It avoids the pitfalls of many edited volumes by maintaining a strict thematic coherence throughout its eight essays. There are few incidences of repetition of themes. Most of the contributors have spent much of their careers working in this area so the quality of the essays is high. The volume will make a valuable contribution to the field of Thai Buddhist studies. Patrick Jory

Exile in Colonial Asia: Kings, Convicts, Commemoration, edited by Ronit Ricci. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2016. ISBN: 978-0-8248-5374-7. US$68.00.2 Exile in Colonial Asia is a compact book, but it is a large book in its treatment of forced migration, prisoner resettlement, and exile across the globe from East Asia to Africa. The ten essays cover people up and down the social hierarchy: rulers (kings, princes, sultans); pretenders to thrones; convicts; and a few pirates and smugglers. The life of a slave might be better than that of a prince, and a prince one day might be a rebel the next, and soon after on a ship to another part of the world. Commemoration in the subtitle means memory. To restore lives lost to the historical record, the authors pick their way through grudging source material – letters, notes, trading company documents, and lists. It is amazing what a detective-author can resurrect from the dry lists of people and objects buried in archival records. In the period covered by the book the world was mapped not by countries, but by empires: Portuguese, Dutch, British, French, Belgian and Italian. Colonial authorities and trading companies like the Dutch East India Company (VOC), a quasi-state, removed people from their homelands and exiled them to foreign lands. The globe is criss-crossed with the movements of these people, 2

This review originally appeared on the New Mandala website on 4 October 2017. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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the other two of Weber’s three types of authority – in northern Thailand. This might be due to such factors as the end of the Chiang Mai monarchy, the region’s geographic and cultural distance from Bangkok, the relative lack of economic development, the high degree of ethnic diversity, and the fact that the contiguous regions in Myanmar and Laos have also been relatively freer from state authority, as James Scott argued in his provocative 2009 book, The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia. Nevertheless, this is a strong collection of essays. It avoids the pitfalls of many edited volumes by maintaining a strict thematic coherence throughout its eight essays. There are few incidences of repetition of themes. Most of the contributors have spent much of their careers working in this area so the quality of the essays is high. The volume will make a valuable contribution to the field of Thai Buddhist studies. Patrick Jory

Exile in Colonial Asia: Kings, Convicts, Commemoration, edited by Ronit Ricci. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2016. ISBN: 978-0-8248-5374-7. US$68.00.2 Exile in Colonial Asia is a compact book, but it is a large book in its treatment of forced migration, prisoner resettlement, and exile across the globe from East Asia to Africa. The ten essays cover people up and down the social hierarchy: rulers (kings, princes, sultans); pretenders to thrones; convicts; and a few pirates and smugglers. The life of a slave might be better than that of a prince, and a prince one day might be a rebel the next, and soon after on a ship to another part of the world. Commemoration in the subtitle means memory. To restore lives lost to the historical record, the authors pick their way through grudging source material – letters, notes, trading company documents, and lists. It is amazing what a detective-author can resurrect from the dry lists of people and objects buried in archival records. In the period covered by the book the world was mapped not by countries, but by empires: Portuguese, Dutch, British, French, Belgian and Italian. Colonial authorities and trading companies like the Dutch East India Company (VOC), a quasi-state, removed people from their homelands and exiled them to foreign lands. The globe is criss-crossed with the movements of these people, 2

This review originally appeared on the New Mandala website on 4 October 2017. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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shown on maps drawn by Robert Cribb. Exile was not a peculiarly Western imperialist measure. Indigenous political systems – the Chinese and the Vietnamese, among others – also used exile and prison colonies to expand their territories. Not all the people sent into exile became alienated in their new surroundings. Some adapted by converting to a new religion, or by seizing opportunities in commerce or agriculture. From ports in the Indonesian archipelago the VOC transported prisoners to the Cape of Good Hope on the southern tip of Africa. From the French colonies in Indochina 600 prisoners were sent to Gabon on the west coast of Africa and the Congo. The French also sent prisoners from Indochina to French Guiana, New Caledonia, Madagascar, Martinique and Guadeloupe. High-level political prisoners in the French colonies went to Algeria, Tahiti and the Marquesas. The British sent Indian convicts to the Andaman Islands, which became a penal colony after the Great Indian Revolt of 1857-58. Rebels against British rule in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) were sent to Mauritius. Prisoners built and fed European empires. Convicts laboured as brick and tile makers, blacksmiths, boatmen, cart drivers and grass cutters, or were engaged in experimental industry and agriculture. Convicts worked in tin mines in Burma, and in Mauritius in silk and cotton production and the cultivation of sugar and coffee. This historical study on Asia is one of the few that sees fit to include Australia, in this case to illustrate a place that was both colony and penal settlement. In Asia proper, we find ourselves in India, Sri Lanka, Java, Singapore, the Malay world, Vietnam and Burma. Siam is not among the case studies, because it was not colonised, but when the King of Siam visited Java in the early 1870s he saw what might become of him if the British and French decided to take away his crown and carve up his realm. He observed the Sultan of Jogjakarta (Yogyakarta) being marched around and guarded by troops. The Javanese sultan displayed the paraphernalia of royalty, but he was a prisoner in a gilded cage, dethroned and demoted within his own country. Native rulers could be packed off to other outposts of empire. Amangkurat III was exiled from Java to Ceylon. The last King of Kandy in Ceylon was sent to Madras (Chennai). Maharaj Singh was banished from the Punjab, where he was considered a threat to colonial consolidation, and sent to Singapore. Sultan Hamengkubuwana II of Jogjakarta was exiled to Penang after he opposed the British takeover of Java in 1811. Some exiles became submissive, some were moderate; some became militant, some were already militant. The book is not sentimental, but exile, banishment, and forced migration are melancholy topics. I came away empathetic not only with the individuals affected by dire circumstance, but also with the authors’ struggles to salvage memories of those uprooted and sent away. Exiles pined for home, and if they were rulers they dreamed of regaining their thrones. Several authors discuss the emotional pain in the exiled life of their subjects. Anand Yang refers to his chapter as a meditation, and Ronit Ricci’s story of the return to Batavia (Jakarta) of Amangkurat III’s remains after his death in Ceylon is told with sorrow. The final essay by Penny Edwards is a fitting end, if not a conclusion, to the volume. Prince Myngoon, the son of a modernising Burmese king in the mid-19th century, was an embodiment of the Burmese monarchy the British had just eradicated. Edwards calls him a trickster, who outwitted the British as he darted from Rangoon (Yangon) Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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to Pondicherry to Benares (Varanasi) to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). The prince was a subversive figure able to elude colonial administrators trying to keep track of him. His story is shaped by subterfuge that challenged colonial surveillance. Colonial power had its limits. The book is not divided into sections, a bold decision by the editor assisted by Maria Myutel. Cross references cite other essays within the volume to make comparisons and contrasts, but not in a false or jarring way. The book began life as a workshop, that familiar factory of academic production, and the authors apparently arrived soon enough at a consensus about what to discuss. Clare Anderson’s introduction is a masterful account of exile as a global phenomenon that ties the essays together, and the book’s striking cover depicts wayang figures on a Dutch ship that convey movement, one of the volume’s themes. It is no surprise that the International Convention of Asian Scholars this year awarded Exile in Colonial Asia an accolade for the best edited volume. Readers of this book cannot fail to reflect on today’s accounts of refugees forced from their homelands by repression and civil war. History is present knowledge, and each author in his or her essay reaffirms human possibility in an inhumane world. Craig J. Reynolds

Letters from St. Petersburg: A Siamese Prince at the Court of the Last Tsar. Translation and commentary by Narisa Chakrabongse. Bangkok: River Books, 2017. ISBN: 978 616 7339 58 0. 1,200 Baht. Narisa Chakrabongse’s translation of nearly 300 missives in Letters from St. Petersburg offers a treasure trove for historians of Thailand who seek insights into the worldviews and affective lives of Prince Chakrabongse and King Chulalongkorn. Tracing the arc of the relationship between a father and a son, the letters begin with the thirteen year-old prince’s departure for London in 1896 and end with the king’s death in 1910. They cover the prince’s educational journey, experiences in the Corps des Pages and the military academy in Russia, interactions with the Tsar and other European royals, return to Siam after his “scandalous” marriage, and his quiet reconciliation with the king. Prince Chakrabongse, born in 1883 to King Chulalongkorn and Queen Saowapha, was the full brother of the heir to the throne, Prince Vajiravudh. His position as a highranking prince and one of his father’s favorites charge their communication with the promise of familial intimacy. The volume’s compiler and translator, Narisa Chakrabongse, is the granddaughter Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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to Pondicherry to Benares (Varanasi) to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). The prince was a subversive figure able to elude colonial administrators trying to keep track of him. His story is shaped by subterfuge that challenged colonial surveillance. Colonial power had its limits. The book is not divided into sections, a bold decision by the editor assisted by Maria Myutel. Cross references cite other essays within the volume to make comparisons and contrasts, but not in a false or jarring way. The book began life as a workshop, that familiar factory of academic production, and the authors apparently arrived soon enough at a consensus about what to discuss. Clare Anderson’s introduction is a masterful account of exile as a global phenomenon that ties the essays together, and the book’s striking cover depicts wayang figures on a Dutch ship that convey movement, one of the volume’s themes. It is no surprise that the International Convention of Asian Scholars this year awarded Exile in Colonial Asia an accolade for the best edited volume. Readers of this book cannot fail to reflect on today’s accounts of refugees forced from their homelands by repression and civil war. History is present knowledge, and each author in his or her essay reaffirms human possibility in an inhumane world. Craig J. Reynolds

Letters from St. Petersburg: A Siamese Prince at the Court of the Last Tsar. Translation and commentary by Narisa Chakrabongse. Bangkok: River Books, 2017. ISBN: 978 616 7339 58 0. 1,200 Baht. Narisa Chakrabongse’s translation of nearly 300 missives in Letters from St. Petersburg offers a treasure trove for historians of Thailand who seek insights into the worldviews and affective lives of Prince Chakrabongse and King Chulalongkorn. Tracing the arc of the relationship between a father and a son, the letters begin with the thirteen year-old prince’s departure for London in 1896 and end with the king’s death in 1910. They cover the prince’s educational journey, experiences in the Corps des Pages and the military academy in Russia, interactions with the Tsar and other European royals, return to Siam after his “scandalous” marriage, and his quiet reconciliation with the king. Prince Chakrabongse, born in 1883 to King Chulalongkorn and Queen Saowapha, was the full brother of the heir to the throne, Prince Vajiravudh. His position as a highranking prince and one of his father’s favorites charge their communication with the promise of familial intimacy. The volume’s compiler and translator, Narisa Chakrabongse, is the granddaughter Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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of the prince who penned the majority of the letters included in the volume. She has arranged them in eleven chronological and thematic chapters, and includes an extremely useful and succinct summary of each letter in the appendix. Photographs, drawings, newspaper articles, maps and insets suffuse the extravagant volume, bringing the letters alive with imagery from their milieu. She guides the reader with a light touch, providing just enough context to understand each letter. The missives are among the few firstperson primary sources available in English about Thai history. That makes them excellent material to assign in undergraduate courses on Thai and Southeast Asian history. Readers will find allusions to myriad foreign, domestic and personal affairs scattered throughout the 400 pages of correspondence. We glean precious information about King Chulalongkorn’s views of the Boxer Rebellion in China and of the customs practiced by elites in the Dutch East Indies, a letter that reads like a proto-ethnography. For historians of comparative colonialisms, the king’s cogitations about his trip in 1896 to Java are fascinating. He sees a parallel between the Netherland’s indirect rule of Solo and Siam’s administration of Cambodian territories through local leaders. But Java “made me [the king] depressed about our country, when I see how well developed it is, despite being a colony” (23). The king’s letters lament French aggression in Siam while also reflecting on the use of Siamese territory by an anti-French Vietnamese rebel. In a similar vein, the prince’s letters explicate his experience with Russia’s ruling elite and their understanding of Japan’s aggressive actions leading up to the Russo-Japanese war. He notes ominously that the average Russian interpreted Siam’s loyalties in that war as based on race. Their concern with international politics is interspersed with discussions of significant domestic crises. The king, for example, explains the challenges he faces from the Chinese secret societies as they prepare to strike (1910) and his indignation at the resignation of over two dozen judges from the Ministry of Justice in 1910 following Prince Rabi’s decision to step down. The letters offer fragments, tantalizing shards of a broken whole, that must be reconstructed before the full impact of the views of Siam’s ruling elites are understood. As such, the correspondence has something to offer every scholar of Thai history. For those trying to clarify the opaque process by which foreign tutors were hired to train Siamese students, the volume includes letters by the prince’s Russian language tutor, Pavel Nicholaivich Ardachev, to his own family in Russia. The Russian letters, discovered and translated into English by Maria Petrova-Desnitsky (Narisa Chakrabongse’s cousin), reveal the contingency of the process by which private instructors were hired before education abroad became routine. They also offer a glimpse of the views of foreigners living in close quarters with Siamese pupils during the early years of intensive study. For scholars of Buddhism, the letters mention King Chulalongkorn’s distribution of the famous Buddhist relics from northern India to Russian, Sri Lankan, and Burmese monks. Crown Prince Vajiravudh and other royals make frequent appearances in the missives as well, which helps reconstruct the ever-changing lines of intimacy and enmity among royal family members. Because so many of the letters were written on ships and trains, they also give readers a sense of the experience of travel at the turn of the century. The letters also proffer tidbits about particular individuals who have all but disappeared from history. For example, Prince Prisdang Chumsai is conspicuous by Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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his absence, though he lived in Sri Lanka when both King Chulalongkorn and Prince Chakrabongse stopped in Colombo and Kandy on their way to and from Europe. His presence surfaces indirectly. Prisdang campaigned among the British authorities in India to have the Piprahwa relics delivered to Siam’s king, who in turn gave them as a diplomatic gesture of good will to Russian, Sri Lankan, and Burmese Buddhists, but Prisdang’s name never surfaces. In this way, the letters conceal as well as reveal. A more obvious lacuna in the letters between father and son is romance. Prince Chakrabongse does not discuss in his letters the intimate relationships he engages in while abroad unless absolutely pressed. The king, however, did not shy from directly inquiring. In 1901 the prince, then in his late teens, received a dramatically worded letter from his father: “Now I have to criticise you. I have heard that you are infatuated with a showgirl….Even if you don’t bring her here [to Siam], but start a relationship, please understand that you are deliberately killing your mother and father.” The “showgirl,” Mathilde Kschessinska, danced in the imperial Russian ballet, and likely was in a relationship with a Grand Duke of Russia when Prince Chakrabongse made her acquaintance. The infatuation evaporated. But the anxiety produced in the heart of the ruling dynast by the possibility of a relationship between his son, a prince positioned second in line to the throne, and a farang woman, remained. For good reason: five years after this portentous letter, Prince Chakrabongse fell in love with a Russian woman named Ekaterina (Katya) Ivanovna Desnitsky, eloped with her, and returned to Siam.3 The king’s fears stemmed in part from the fact that Prince Chakrabongse was not the first Siamese (or the last) to find love during the formative years he lived abroad. Just a year earlier, Nai Manit, son of a high-ranking aristocratic official, had secretly married a British woman without the king’s permission, was recalled to Siam, and “accidentally” shot his new wife after he learned she would not accompany him to Siam.4 In just one of the many little treasures of information that surface in this trove of letters, we hear that the king had once considered Manit, prior to his ill-fated marriage, as a possible fellow student to accompany the prince to Russia. Instead, the king and prince settled on Nai Poum, another commoner. It was forbidden for all royalty and royal officials, such as those students funded by the Siamese Crown, to marry without the king’s permission. Yet all three of these young men, living abroad during their teens and early twenties, fell in love with foreign women. In 1906, Nai Poum married a Russian woman and remained in Russia, about which the king opined, “no one cares what that wretched Poum does” (389). By contrast, the king cared a great deal about Prince Chakrabongse and his romantic inclinations as revealed in the king’s letters, which are imbued with emotion, disappointment, and judgment of the prince for his selfish act that rendered him unfit to rule. Unfortunately, the volume does not include the prince’s letters written in response, perhaps because the king destroyed them. The correspondence between father and son slows to a near 3

See Eileen Hunter and Narisa Chakrabongse, Katya and the Prince of Siam (Bangkok: River Books, 1995). 4 Tamara Loos, “Besmirched with Blood: an Emotional History of Transnational Romance in Colonial Singapore,” Rethinking History, special issue on Emotional Styles, 16, 2 (June 2012), 199-220. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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halt because of their falling out and because the prince returned with his wife, Katya, to Siam in 1906. His presence made letters unnecessary. The king remained aloof until a few years after the young couple had a son and the king, feeling alone as a “progressive” amidst his kin-officials, confided in Prince Chakrabongse about his disappointments in the pace of Siam’s reforms. Readers who know this dramatic family tale will be gratified that they not only have access to the letters in English, but can read the original Thai documents as well. Narisa Chakrabongse has worked with the British Library to make the original correspondence by her grandfather available to the public online (https://www.bl.uk/collection-guides/ chakrabongse-collection-of-thai-royal-letters). This is even more remarkable given the contingent way that the letters, which easily could have slipped into private archives, made it to the library. Narisa learned that Christies would soon auction a box of what she suspected were her grandfather’s letters. She then had to negotiate for her ownership of them. Her birthright, as a descendent of the prince who authored the letters, was challenged because someone sought to purchase the letters for a different member of the royal family, the late King Bhumiphol. “The whole matter was very traumatic, with various parties in Thailand being divided as to whether I should fight to get the letters back” (10). It is suggestive of the continued delicacy of handling any information about Thailand’s ruling elites. The letters now are properly preserved and accessible to all. Tamara Loos

Devotion: Image, Recitation, and Celebration of the Vessantara Epic in Northeast Thailand by Thomas Kaiser, Leedom Lefferts and Martina Wernsdörfer. Stuttgart: Arnoldsche Art Publishers, 2017. ISBN: 978-3-89790-500-9. €38.00. 2,595 Baht. The Vessantara Jātaka, arguably the best-known Buddhist story in Mainland Southeast Asia, is reenacted every year in villages and cities throughout Northeast Thailand and Lowland Laos in an elaborate three-day festival known as Bun Phra Wet. Until now, this complex multimedia event has been known outside of Thailand to only a small number of Westerners, mainly academics. This new book introduces the festival to a global audience for the first time and does so with meticulous attention to detail. The volume served as the catalog for an exhibition organized at the Ethnographic Museum of the University of Zurich, in cooperation with the Moesgaard Museum in Aarhus, Denmark, from

Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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halt because of their falling out and because the prince returned with his wife, Katya, to Siam in 1906. His presence made letters unnecessary. The king remained aloof until a few years after the young couple had a son and the king, feeling alone as a “progressive” amidst his kin-officials, confided in Prince Chakrabongse about his disappointments in the pace of Siam’s reforms. Readers who know this dramatic family tale will be gratified that they not only have access to the letters in English, but can read the original Thai documents as well. Narisa Chakrabongse has worked with the British Library to make the original correspondence by her grandfather available to the public online (https://www.bl.uk/collection-guides/ chakrabongse-collection-of-thai-royal-letters). This is even more remarkable given the contingent way that the letters, which easily could have slipped into private archives, made it to the library. Narisa learned that Christies would soon auction a box of what she suspected were her grandfather’s letters. She then had to negotiate for her ownership of them. Her birthright, as a descendent of the prince who authored the letters, was challenged because someone sought to purchase the letters for a different member of the royal family, the late King Bhumiphol. “The whole matter was very traumatic, with various parties in Thailand being divided as to whether I should fight to get the letters back” (10). It is suggestive of the continued delicacy of handling any information about Thailand’s ruling elites. The letters now are properly preserved and accessible to all. Tamara Loos

Devotion: Image, Recitation, and Celebration of the Vessantara Epic in Northeast Thailand by Thomas Kaiser, Leedom Lefferts and Martina Wernsdörfer. Stuttgart: Arnoldsche Art Publishers, 2017. ISBN: 978-3-89790-500-9. €38.00. 2,595 Baht. The Vessantara Jātaka, arguably the best-known Buddhist story in Mainland Southeast Asia, is reenacted every year in villages and cities throughout Northeast Thailand and Lowland Laos in an elaborate three-day festival known as Bun Phra Wet. Until now, this complex multimedia event has been known outside of Thailand to only a small number of Westerners, mainly academics. This new book introduces the festival to a global audience for the first time and does so with meticulous attention to detail. The volume served as the catalog for an exhibition organized at the Ethnographic Museum of the University of Zurich, in cooperation with the Moesgaard Museum in Aarhus, Denmark, from

Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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20 June 2017 to 15 April 2018.1 A useful map in the Foreword on Page 9 indicates the areas in Northeast Thailand and Laos relevant to the material in the text. This epic tale is the story of the Buddha’s penultimate life. In this existence as Prince Vessantara (Phra Wet), he practiced the virtue of generosity (dana) to the ultimate degree by giving away all that was vital to his kingdom and dear to him personally. Having practiced generosity his entire life, the defining moment occurred when he donated the kingdom’s rain-giving elephant to a group of Brahmins from a drought-stricken area. This act resulted in his banishment from the royal city to the forest accompanied by his devoted wife, Maddi (Matsi) and their two young children. There, he willingly gave the children to the Brahmin Jujaka (Chuchok) who wanted them as servants, much to the distress of Matsi. Finally, he gave her away as well, to a deity disguised as a Brahmin. In the end the family was reunited and welcomed back into the royal city in a grand procession. By perfecting dana to the ultimate degree, Phra Wet attained sufficient merit to be born into the world and attain enlightenment as the Buddha Gotama. Phra Wet’s merit is celebrated with great joy and enthusiasm each year in Northeast Thailand and part of Laos through Bun Phra Wet, in which the local temple and the surrounding area are symbolically transformed into the landscape of the Jātaka. In this environment, the story is recited by monks and reenacted though a procession in which laypeople, mainly women, carry a long horizontal cloth scroll (pha pra wet) painted with the main events of the story. About one meter in height and ranging from 50 to 100 meters in length, the scrolls are divided into the thirteen chapters of the story. The procession moves through the village to the temple where the scroll is hung inside the meeting hall (sala). Participants partake of the merit made through this ritual reenactment of the life and generosity of Phra Wet. For those totally unfamiliar with the topic, this richly informative and sumptuously illustrated volume provides an introduction to the Vessantara Jātaka, Buddhist ideas of merit and merit-making, and aspects of Theravada Buddhist material culture and ritual in Southeast Asia. For specialists in Thai art, Buddhism and ethnology, it opens a direct window into every step of a unique tradition of the ethnic Lao people who adhere to this regional practice in the midst of national integration and globalization. And for those interested in pha phra wet and local mural paintings, it provides high-quality color photos of five rare, previously unpublished scrolls. Photographs by Martina Werdorfer of vertical scrolls (thangkas) from the “Tibetan” version allow for comparisons of the two traditions. The book begins with a wide-ranging essay by Kaiser, curator at the Ethnographic Museum, who previously organized an exhibit on Indian narrative scrolls. Reaching out to readers unfamiliar with the story and festival, he recounts the essential events of this long, complex, seemingly foreign narrative. Kaiser’s essay is thoughtful and broad-sweeping, as he endeavors to explain the regional celebration of this story in the wider context of historical Buddhism and even world religions. His references and texts include include sources as diverse as the Old Testament, Theravada and Mahayana An audio recording of the recitation can be found at https://www.musethno.uzh.ch/en/ ausstellungen/DEVOTION.html

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texts, a 6th century BCE Sanskrit play based on the Ramayana, a Tibetan version of the epic and passages from translations of other Jātakas (Horner, 1975). After explaining the essential concepts of Buddhist doctrine and cosmology, history, and the transmission of the teachings from India to Southeast Asia, Kaiser discusses the events in Vessantara Jātaka in more detail, with quotes from Tibetan, Chinese, and Sinhalese translations as well as the one from the Pali by Cone and Gombrich (1977). Kaiser’s thorough discussion also includes the biography of the Buddha, the role of Buddha images and narrative art, acts of worship, and the transmission of Buddhism to Southeast Asia. From then he recounts the politicizing of the epic by certain kings of Sukhothai and Ayutthaya who commissioned inscriptions and poetic revisions of the epic that correlate them with Vessantara. Kaiser finally brings the discussion into the events taking place on the ground during a Bun Phra Wet with an analysis of the main characters of Vessantara (Phra Wet) and Maddi (Matsi). The prince’s apparent obsessiveness and lack of sympathy is contrasted with his wife’s optimism and strength, while the Brahmin Jujaka (Chuchok) is sometimes less a villain than a hapless fool who loves his wife as much as food. Kaiser’s essay is followed by that of ethnologist Lefferts, who has been documenting and writing about Bun Phra Wet in its entirety for nearly two decades. Lefferts takes the reader through all the steps from planning to enactment to cleanup. He points out that it is imperative for the festival to be well organized and he takes us behind the scenes to see the ‘stuff’ of the event and the work that goes into it by the community and the temple, including the setting of a date, agreeing on a budget, inviting monks to come, booking musicians and singers who will perform at night, creating the special objects to be used in the festival, and more. Preparing the site essentially transforms the wat compound into a palace fit for royalty as well as the forest hermitage where Phra Wet completed his quest. The ‘stuff’ also symbolically replicates Phra Wet’s gift-giving by the members of the community who make or donate 1000 copies of each object including candles, incense sticks, and balls of sticky rice. The relevance of the number 1000 is its correspondence to the 1000 verses (katha) believed to have been spoken by the Buddha when he told the story of his previous birth. The number is also mentioned in the Phra Malai text recited before the Jātaka, in which the Bodhisattva Metteyya states that those who want to meet him when he is the Buddha should follow this practice of donation when they participate in the Vessantara Jātaka festival. Even those of us who have attended many of these festivals have much to learn from this essay. For example, we learn that women who carry the scroll consider certain chapters of the story more auspicious than others and prefer to hold this section of the scroll while they walk. Other examples are the placement of sticky rice balls around the wat area as an invitation to any unknown spirits that may be nearby to listen to the recitation, and the items offered to Phra Upakut, the living spirit who guards the festival. Lefferts’s long-term study of Bun Phra Wet adds a historical perspective that informs us of ways in which the festival has changed. We learn of the different varieties of recitations that are now available: a straightforward reading by each of the monks, a combination of reading and ‘singing’, and a more recent innovation of ‘singing’ in Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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which various individual monks assume the roles of characters such as Phra Wet, Matsi, Chuchok, and the children. The one single weak point is Lefferts’ slightly muddled recounting of the Phra Malai story, which is recited as a preface to the Vessantara Jātaka explaining the reason for the festival (pp. 62-63).2 A catalog, “Pha Phra Wet – the Vessantara cloths” follows, written by Lefferts with contributions by Kaiser. For art historians familiar with the topic, the glorious photos of these fantastic scrolls are the most exciting part of this richly informative book. Ranging in date from the early 20th century to 1972, few others have survived the ravages of climate and pests, and scrolls so diverse and detailed are no longer painted. In recent years, scrolls have become simplified and standardized, with the majority made in only two villages. Five of the scrolls in the exhibit were borrowed from temples in Northeast Thailand: the Ban Phek scroll from Wat Ban Phek, Sisaket, painted by Pradit Lam Saeng, dated 1967; the Ban Tha Muang scroll, owned by Wat Pasakdaram, Roi Et, created in the early 20th century; three fragments, including one devoted entirely to Phra Malai, from Wat Ban Sing, Bān Sing, Yasothon, early 20th century; the Wat Ban Krachaeng, from Ban Krachaeng, Sisaket, painted by Chang Sathien Sam, dated 1972; and the Bān Khana Mai scroll, owned by Wat Khanavaraman, Sisaket, created by Wijitsin, dated 1967. The other is from the collection of Moesgard Museum of Aarhus University, Denmark, from Ban Phran Muan, Udon Thani, painted by Phat Khanchomphu, ca. 1928. Each scroll is complex and unique in its composition, coloring and representation of figures. Some begin on the right end and move to the left; others move in the opposite direction, and one has a uniquely circular movement. In some scrolls the chapters are separated by natural features like trees and rocks rather than the decorative borders used today, while in others boundaries are fluid. In another each chapter is divided into two or three registers stacked vertically. Colors also vary, from the natural pigments used in the older scrolls to acrylic paint in the newer ones. While the children, Kanha and Chali, are usually depicted as expressionless, in one of the scrolls they are unusually pitiful, pulled by Chuchok on a vine to which they are tied, naked and weeping. The final essay, “Choegyl Drimed Kuenden: The prince who gave up everything to attain enlightenment,” by Martina Wernsdorfer, Asia curator at the Ethnographic 2

The correct version of the story from the Malai Muen-Malai Saen is as follows. Phra Malai, a monk with supernatural powers enabling him to fly to hell and heaven, was on his alms rounds one morning when he encountered a poor man who had picked eight lotuses while bathing in a pond. The man presented them to the monk, asking that through this offering he might never again be born poor. After accepting the lotuses, Phra Malai deliberated over what to do with them and decided to present them at the Culamani Cetiya in Tavatimsa Heaven, where the Buddha’s hair relic is enshrined. He flew there and met Indra, and witnessed the arrival of a series of deities coming to worship, each surrounded by progressively larger and larger retinues. In each case, Indra told Phra Malai how the deity had earned sufficient merit to be born in heaven, each through an act of dana. Eventually the Bodhisatta Metteya arrived from his abode in Tusita Heaven to worship the relic. He asked Phra Malai about the inhabitants of the human realm and the monk replied that they made merit in diverse ways, all in the hope of meeting Metteya when he came to be born as the next Buddha. Metteya advised him to tell the people that they should participate fully in the Vessantara Jātaka festival in one day and one night by listening to the recitation and presenting various kinds of offerings, each numbering 1000. They should also avoid committing sins and practice dana. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Museum, presents noteworthy comparisons from the “Tibetan” tradition, which is based on a translation from the Pali and differs from the original in two significant ways. The first is that the prince does not give away an elephant, but a wish-fulfilling jewel belonging to his father. The second is that he does not give away his wife, but his eyes, which he cuts out and presents to a blind Brahmin beggar. The essay also discusses some of the ways in which the story is presented, including a highly acclaimed film made in Bhutan in two versions, one in Tibetan and another in Dzongkha; a play featuring episodes from the story performed by nuns in Kathmandu; and street theater in Himachal Pradesh, northern India. In the latter, key scenes are painted on scrolls (thangka), several examples of which are included. The book’s few shortcomings are minor, indeed, and are limited to some of the photos of temple murals, with details that are hard to see, most likely a result of having been reduced in size to fit the book’s format. For example, if the photo of the mural at Wat Pa Rerai, Maha Sarakham (p. 30) had been enlarged, cropped, and perhaps lightened, the details would be more visible. The same is true of the mural at Wat Ban Yang in Maha Sarakham (p. 71). In other instances, the relevance of the photo is questionable, as in the detail of a mural at Wat Sa Bua Kaew (p. 43), with a caption stating only that a battle is raging outside the city walls in the upper part of the photo, in contrast to the bucolic village scene below, which includes a woman giving birth and a man holding what appears to be a child with deformed limbs.3 Nevertheless, Devotion: Image, Recitation, and Celebration of the Vessantara Epic in Northeast Thailand is superb and its title, which puzzled me before I read the book, is most appropriate. The first word, “Devotion” calls attention to the sentiment of the local participants as well as to Phra Wet’s willingness to sacrifice his family in his quest to be born as the next Buddha, in juxtaposition with Matsi’s dedication to the family’s survival. The remainder of the title evokes the multifaceted nature of the Bun Phra Wet festival and that it is, indeed, a celebration of the sharing of merit. The book deserves to be celebrated as a major achievement on the part of all who contributed to it, not only the authors, but also the artists, temples, museums and villagers. Bonnie Pacala Brereton

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The scene is from Phra Lak Phra Lam, the Lao version of the Rama epic, and the infant is probably the deformed child who was later reborn as Hapmanasun, the character corresponding to Ravana. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Peninsular Siam and its Neighborhoods – Essays in Memory of Dr. Preecha Noonsuk, edited by Wannasarn Noonsuk. Cultural Council of Nakhon Si Thammarat Province, 2017. Hardback: ISBN 978-616-543-488-1. 1,000 Baht online (bigredbear3@gmail. com); 1,300 Baht retail. In Peninsular Siam and its Neighborhoods, Wannasarn Noonsuk traces his father’s life, from humble beginnings in Thailand’s southern province of Nakhon Si Thammarat, to an Ivy League university in the USA and a doctorate from Chulalongkorn University. The journey is recounted through essays and research articles by academics acquainted with the late Preecha and his work. Preecha Noonsuk was exceptionally bright, gifted with a phenomenal memory and ability to “read” the landscape. Born into a farming family in 1949, he lived and dedicated his life’s work to the archaeology of Peninsular Siam. He passed away in June 2010 while Wannasarn was writing up his own doctoral dissertation. The trauma of losing a parent is acutely felt in a fraught phase of a doctoral degree, as I recall when my own father fell terminally ill while I was engaged in doctoral fieldwork in the north-east of Laos. After a master’s degree in archaeology from Silpakorn University, Noonsuk Sr. joined expeditions led by renowned scholars Prince Subhadradis Diskul, Srisakra Vallibhotama and Chin Yudi, the father of Thai prehistory. He first met Stanley O’Connor in southern Thailand and again in 1985 after being awarded a scholarship at Cornell University. The Prologue by Noonsuk Jr. introduces us to the isthmian tract and the Gulf of Siam. Peninsular Siam refers to the tract between the Bay of Bengal and the South China Sea. In the 5th century CE, the area witnessed the spread of the later Vishnu styles and the so-called triangular trade pattern following the south-west monsoon. Central in this discussion is Tambralinga (Nakhon Si Thammarat), on the east coast of the Peninsula. Recognized as a centre of Theravada Buddhist learning in the 12th century, Tambralinga’s rich history and culture have come to light thanks to Preecha’s commitment to “read” its ancient past through a painstaking documentation of human intentions manifest in the area’s material culture. Stanley O’Connor invites us to view a place as a geographically-referenced, physical location and as a store of memory, imagination, traces of human shaping, and the creative energies of its environments which have moulded the place as an emergent “entity.” We need to distance ourselves from the present and float to the period in time when the communities first heard the now badly-damaged bronze drum found at Nakhon Si Thammarat, imagining the various steps necessary to build the object in the dry season, with onlookers curiously scrutinizing its assembly. Since the bronze drum’s first sonorous sound was heard 2,000 years ago, the world has become disenchanted with Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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a form of rationality which denigrates modes of thought we call magical, precluding miracles, witchcraft, the harmony of the earthly and heavenly spheres. We are now removed from the motion of stars as a guide to human conduct or the layout of cities. The drum’s powerful experience today is confined to its aesthetic appeal: the sublime. John Miksic’s discussion on the people of the beach ridges in Tambralinga and Palembang (Sumatra) takes us back to the material world. Early complex societies left their mark on Southeast Asia’s topographical features and it fell on scholars like Preecha to “read” forms of geography and human history such as the beach ridges. A “culture,” Miksic argues, does not inherit archaeological, linguistic and genetic groupings, since they are not always identical, particularly in large, complex societies. The Siamo-Malay Peninsula and the Straits of Melaka have been traversed by peoples, artefacts, languages, and plants since the beginning of recorded time, challenging anyone attempting to discern how these three strands might have intertwined over the last two millennia. Pierre-Yves Manguin discusses shipping along the Straits of Melaka and Singapore and asks whether trans-peninsular routes were used for trade in Chinese ceramics. A journey from Kedah to anywhere in the Gulf of Siam would require over two months, excluding time at harbours waiting for the right monsoon winds to settle, before sailing into the Bay of Bengal or the South China Sea. For reasons of speed, argues Manguin, land routes were used only for human journeys or light loads headed for Khmer or Dvaravati polities in the Gulf of Siam. He proposes that in the 1st millennium CE, ships carried their bulky wares from the Indian Ocean to the South China Sea and Java Sea (and back), witness the Cirebon shipwreck discovered in 2003 in Indonesia’s Northern Java Sea. The cargo, estimated at ninety tons, may have carried up to 300,000 pieces of 10th-century Chinese ceramics, mainly bowls but also platters, incense burners, and figurines. Manguin has argued against the impracticality of transporting heavy cargos on shallow draught boats to the mountain foot and for the process to be repeated on the other side, with the possibility of damage and breakages. The Wat Maheyong inscription is analysed by Peter Skilling together with other evidence for the state of Buddhism in the central and upper Thai-Malay peninsula in the 6th-7th century CE, when donations were a source of spiritual merit (puṇya). The Sanskrit verse inscription, engraved in Southeast Asian Brahmi letters on one side of a large block of black schist, is a record of offerings made to a monastery, possibly originating from Nakhon Chaisi/Nakhon Pathom or Nakhon Si Thammarat. The stone, already severely damaged, bore six incomplete lines of letters but the missing pādas suggest the inscription must have been considerably longer. In 1893, Auguste Barth (1834-1916), the French indologist and epigrapher, translated the inscription and dated it to the 8th century CE,1 although earlier and later dates have been suggested. Despite the uncertainty about its provenance, the inscription testifies to the physical components of a well-endowed monastery and its ritual capacities in the area of the Thai-Malay peninsula. Leonard Andaya’s essay on “The Northern Malays” is a thought-provoking 1

A. Barth, A. Deux inscriptions récemment rapportées de Siam par M. Fournereau, Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 37/2 (1893), pp. 64-5. On p. 64, the temple is referred to as Vât Mahyeng or Prapathom. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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discussion on meaningful boundaries, rather than the borders which are artificially constructed for modern-day political purposes. His treatment of the archaeological, linguistic, and ethnographic features of Peninsular Siam argues that the northern parts of the Malay Peninsula evolved differently from the southern parts. The Malays’ history was never a straightforward evolution. The two distinct ramifications of “northern” and “southern” became separated with the formation of the nation-states of Malaysia, Indonesia and Thailand, with the southern Malays inheriting the mantle of what was considered the acceptable norm. Andaya’s argument recalls the “shared heritage” argument surrounding the 11th-century Khmer temple of Preah Vihear, an accident of colonial history rooted in incorrect border maps drawn up by European officers in Indochina at the turn of the 20th century. Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit contribute to this volume with an essay adapted from their critically-acclaimed book, A History of Ayutthaya (Cambridge University Press, 2017), by tracing the history of Ayutthaya and the Peninsula from the 13th to the 17th century CE. From the 1280s, Ayutthaya appears as Xian in the Chinese records, chiefly as a trading port but with a side-line in trade-and-raid activities down the Peninsula and across to Sumatra. Xian’s aggression was curbed in the 16th century by increased Malay settlements in the southern Peninsula and the arrival of Islam, but not before other port polities petitioned China to intervene about her rapacious stance. From the 1290s to the 1490s, Xian/Ayutthaya sent armies and fleets southwards, in part to subjugate local rulers for resource exploitation and to profit from the brisk trade with Melaka, involving Siamese rice, dried salted fish, vegetables, benzoin, silver, gold, ruby and diamond rings, while male and female slaves, muslins, rosewater, carpets and white cowries filled the junks on the return journey to Siam. Craig Reynolds discusses Thailand’s amulet market, worth an estimated half a billion dollars a year. Michael Wright, a columnist fluent in spoken and written Thai, linked the Jatukhamramthep, or Jatukham, fever to Thaksin’s ousting in September 2006, as a popular hope for immediate, boundless riches. The image, created in the mid-1980s, is a composite or “bricolage” from diverse sources that include Hindu and Buddhist representations. Over three decades, the Jatukham has assumed several postures and mudras. Late in 2005, a special edition of Jatukham personified the “Take back the nation” movement, allegedly instructing Yellow Shirts to free Thailand from prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s capitalist hold. Other “props” were invented and associated with Jatukham images for added potency, contributing to a significant rise in the value of the amulets when some political aspirations materialized. The Jatukham is a devotional object conjured from local lore, elements of Southeast Asian, Indic, and Lankan deism, promises of prosperity and safekeeping, and a good measure of Nakhon Si Thammarat chauvinism, quips Reynolds. We remain in the sphere of imagery with Hiroshi Kano’s essay. Meeting Noonsuk Sr. at an archaeological site in southern Thailand in 1995, Kano asked him about the origin of Nang Kwak, the image found on market shelves and lintels in Thailand. Noonsuk Sr. had documented the image during the great boom of “Chatukam Ramathep” amulets (the Jatukhamramthep discussed by Reynolds), in a book subsequently translated into Japanese by Kano and published in 2009. Religious implements are important elements Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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of the material culture of the “lived religion,” including fortune-telling slips. Although Thailand’s religious history has received ample attention from scholars, studies on the meaning and history of everyday artefacts from a lived religion, like the Nang Kwak, have received scant attention from Thai scholars, with the late Preecha being a notable exception. Edmund McKinnon discusses Burmese wares in Aceh and North Sumatra. Premodern Burmese ceramic export wares have been documented in Southeast Asia, including southern Thailand and Sumatra, as well as South Asia (India’s Kerala), and in numerous shipwrecks of the 16th and 17th century. Mid-14th and mid-17th century Thai export wares have been found in Aceh and north Sumatra, as well as Ayutthaya earthenwares and Thai stonewares, testifying to an established relationship between the

The late Preecha Noonsuk (left) with Prince Subhadradis Diskul during a fieldtrip (Peninsular Siam, p. xi).

pre-sultanate Acehnese polity of Lamri and Ayutthaya by the mid-late 14th century. The presence of utilitarian Burmese wares as sherds and whole vessels provides tangible evidence for earlier commercial relationships with Aceh between the ports of Martavan and Moulmein on the eastern coast of the Bay of Bengal, in the 16th and 17th century, corroborated by historical sources for the presence of traders from Pegu. Kaja McGowan met Noonsuk Sr. at Cornell University in the mid-1980s, where Stanley O’Connor taught a class on the archaeology of Tambralinga. Her involvement with Tambralinga was reinforced when Noonsuk Jr. enrolled for a PhD at Cornell. Like O’Connor in the opening essay, McGowan invites us on a dreamy journey, to Khuan Luk Pat, the “Bead Mound” in Krabi province’s Khlong Thom district, identified by archaeological research as a production centre for glass, tin, and semi-precious stones. In the early centuries CE, “Bead Mound” became an important centre within the trading sphere comprising the Roman Empire, India, Southeast Asia and China, as documented by finds which have included a Han dynasty bronze mirror, Indian and Roman gold and bronze coins, Indian seals, and Roman intaglios. The so-called “bird beads,” depicting Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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a lone bird and a sun burst, are among the beads transported from Bead Mound to the Thalang National Museum in Phuket. Noonsuk Sr.’s premature death deprived his family of his affections and precluded more excavations to enrich our knowledge of Peninsular Siam. His son, Wannasarn, is left with the childhood memories of accompanying him on fieldwork to one of his favourite sites: the largest Brahmanical complex in Sichon, now dated to the 4th-8th century CE. We are glad that the impressionable eight-year old followed in his father’s archaeological footsteps, forging academic associations with esteemed scholars whose respect for his late father is reflected in the warm and generous tributes in this informative and eminently readable commemorative volume. Lia Genovese

Living Buddhism: Mind, Self, and Emotion in a Thai Community by Julia Cassaniti. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2015. ISBN: 978-08014-5400-4 (hardcover), US$69.95; ISBN: 978-0-8014-5671-8 (paperback), US$22.95. In Living Buddhism, Julia Cassaniti demonstrates how the idea of anicca (impermanence), more often considered a prerogative of lofty monastic Buddhism, is actually central in formulating the psychological as well as social life of the people in a rural village in Northern Thailand. How is emotional and religious life entwined in the everyday experiences of people in the remote village? The approach to Buddhism as it is lived among ordinary people is in line with recent works in Theravada Buddhism which focus, not on the monastic or doctrinal Buddhism, but on the everyday practices of lay people. The uniqueness of this book is that it does so by seeking out how Buddhists in rural villages live the seemingly high and remote tenets of Buddhist teachings. The book is an outcome of Cassaniti’s involvement in the lives of people in a village over a ten-year period, including a long-term stay for eighteen months in 2005-6. In this village which she calls “Mae Jaeng”, a two-hour drive northwest of Chiang Mai, Cassaniti became especially close with two families. She conducted sixty interviews in this village with the Buddhist northern Thai inhabitants, and for comparative purposes, she also ventured into a Karen Christian village nearby where she conducted sixty further interviews. These interviews with questions regarding people’s religious lives and ideas constitute the basis for Cassaniti’s understanding of her theme, while the main storyline revolves around the two families in Mae Jaeng with whom she had the closest relationship. The process of her field research is explained clearly from its Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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a lone bird and a sun burst, are among the beads transported from Bead Mound to the Thalang National Museum in Phuket. Noonsuk Sr.’s premature death deprived his family of his affections and precluded more excavations to enrich our knowledge of Peninsular Siam. His son, Wannasarn, is left with the childhood memories of accompanying him on fieldwork to one of his favourite sites: the largest Brahmanical complex in Sichon, now dated to the 4th-8th century CE. We are glad that the impressionable eight-year old followed in his father’s archaeological footsteps, forging academic associations with esteemed scholars whose respect for his late father is reflected in the warm and generous tributes in this informative and eminently readable commemorative volume. Lia Genovese

Living Buddhism: Mind, Self, and Emotion in a Thai Community by Julia Cassaniti. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2015. ISBN: 978-08014-5400-4 (hardcover), US$69.95; ISBN: 978-0-8014-5671-8 (paperback), US$22.95. In Living Buddhism, Julia Cassaniti demonstrates how the idea of anicca (impermanence), more often considered a prerogative of lofty monastic Buddhism, is actually central in formulating the psychological as well as social life of the people in a rural village in Northern Thailand. How is emotional and religious life entwined in the everyday experiences of people in the remote village? The approach to Buddhism as it is lived among ordinary people is in line with recent works in Theravada Buddhism which focus, not on the monastic or doctrinal Buddhism, but on the everyday practices of lay people. The uniqueness of this book is that it does so by seeking out how Buddhists in rural villages live the seemingly high and remote tenets of Buddhist teachings. The book is an outcome of Cassaniti’s involvement in the lives of people in a village over a ten-year period, including a long-term stay for eighteen months in 2005-6. In this village which she calls “Mae Jaeng”, a two-hour drive northwest of Chiang Mai, Cassaniti became especially close with two families. She conducted sixty interviews in this village with the Buddhist northern Thai inhabitants, and for comparative purposes, she also ventured into a Karen Christian village nearby where she conducted sixty further interviews. These interviews with questions regarding people’s religious lives and ideas constitute the basis for Cassaniti’s understanding of her theme, while the main storyline revolves around the two families in Mae Jaeng with whom she had the closest relationship. The process of her field research is explained clearly from its Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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very beginnings, which, along with the easy flow of the narrative and avoidance of jargon, makes the book a wonderfully approachable text for beginners of ethnographic fieldwork. Cassaniti, a young farang woman from the U.S., finds herself initially perplexed by the calmness and what seemed like emotionally subdued lives of the people in the village, and gradually finds herself understanding this through her intimate association with two families. As the protagonist, she begins to feel there is something “off” about her directness and expression of emotions, such as joy at finding beautiful scenery, or anger at the oppressive hot weather. She finds herself being treated in such instances with “disdainful bemused expressions” (60). The readers will share the anguish and frustration experienced by the author, through the narrative of the events, especially those surrounding the problem of alcoholism and hospitalization of one of the main characters. Cassaniti intersperses her thoughts and analyses as she narrates the development of this drama, which in effect becomes the centerpiece of the ethnography. The introduction sets the tone by laying out the central issue, which is not about Buddhism in a temple, nor in books nor meditation courses, but Buddhism as part of day-to-day living. How is Buddhism related to a “range of emotional and behavioral practices that make up the cultural psychology of people in the community” (15)? Anicca is introduced as the key concept. If she asks ordinary villagers about it, they will point her to ask the monks in the village temple, who in turn point her to ask monks in Bangkok. Cassaniti gradually succeeds in hearing people talk about “impermanence” in a way that is relevant to their own respective lives. While impermanence might more easily be associated with suffering and pain, surprisingly the villagers tell her how this idea makes them feel better by allowing them to “let go”. “By crafting calm and coolhearted emotions, one is able to more easily let go of affective attachments” (31). Chapter One begins by explaining how Cassaniti, after“hanging around” for a while, began to conduct interviews. Then the idea and practice of calmness (jai yen), which came up in all the interviews, is introduced, and Cassaniti explains how the monastery is central to cultivating calmness. In this rural setting, Buddhism is far from becoming vacuous, but remains well connected to the community, and people “shap(e) their subjectivity by their actions, …by practicing and repeating certain kinds of bodily and affective comportment” (57). Cassaniti goes as far as to say “the most common reasons that people throughout Mae Jaeng attend their wat has to do with cultivating or practicing cool-heartedness” (58), whether sitting in meditation, making merit, or associating with other villagers. The second chapter, titled “Heat”, begins by introducing some “misfits” in the village, including Cassaniti herself. Through this realization, she learns about “the crafting of a cool heart”, which she connects with Buddhist practice. To make this point clearer, she moves to the Karen Christian village Baan Ko Tao. Here she finds a different “emotional tenor”. In contrast to the calmness and the quiet in the Mae Jaeng temples, there is “a sense of robust emotionality, full of loud church music and animated discussion” (74), which renders the cool-heartedness in Mae Jaeng more evident. Cassaniti points out that there is no direct word for “emotion” in Thai, and here launches into a discussion in comparative psychology, expounding on the non-translatability and culturally specific Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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nature of emotions. It is not that Thais in Mae Jaeng are without emotion or that their emotion is weak, but “it is the strength of low-arousal emotion that is practiced and aspired to” (82). Chapter Three is about “letting go” of affective attachments that are the basis of coolness and the acceptance of impermanence, and how this is accomplished by“making the heart” (tham jai), especially in the face of unexpected tragedy. This is followed by descriptions of Buddhist rituals and festivals, which are acts of merit-making but also of constructing affect such as coolness and letting go. There is an intriguing discussion on gender and power, where Cassaniti discusses behavioral and affective norms and expectations based on social categories. She finds that there is very little gender difference in emotionality or affective comportment, yet interpersonal hierarchy is important and gender is inscribed within it. Among social unequals, the subordinate is expected to “rein in” her/his emotions. She points out how women in Northern Thai society lead matters both in and outside the household, are expected to uphold morality, and are less allowed to relieve tension or escape responsibilities, so that somatization of stress is more often found among women. The theme of Chapter Four is about holding on, or the inability to let go. It is also the beginning of the drama centered on Sen, one of the main characters, whose drinking problems become pronounced after his grandmother’s death. He is unable to accept change, let go of attachments, and accept his homosexuality. The Karen village appears again in comparison. Impermanence, which is central to understanding the emotional tenor and importance of letting go in Mae Jaeng is not relevant in Baan Ko Tao. For Karen Christian villagers, more important is talking about issues of the self with others, including the psychiatrist, while in Mae Jaeng, such preoccupation with issues of the self might be considered an inability to let go. Cassaniti points out that Sen is “inscribed within the larger cultural orientation” of Mae Jaeng, and his problems were understood within them. Chapter Five begins by explaining the notion of karma. To the villagers, karma is not a matter of belief, but an organizational principle in life, such as common sense or a natural order of things, which is referred to in explaining (mostly negative) things that happen to people in everyday life. Yet it is an unsettled principle for each person, in that everybody has different usage and explanation for it in different contexts. The relationship between accumulating merit on the one hand, and the objective of getting out of the karmic circle, or between calmness of mind and desire or intentionality is ambiguous. The chapter then turns to the drama of Sen and his family and friends. After much anguish and frustration, Cassaniti comes to assume an indispensable role in sending Sen to the hospital. Her involvement in the turn of events and her reflections on it constitute a crucial process by which Cassaniti reaches an understanding of emotion, acceptance, and issues of mind, body and health. In conclusion, Sen’s recovery is referred to in terms of “letting go”, in emphasizing how people“craft subjectivities in everyday life through engagements with local religious ideas”. Local psychological models for health and well-being are shaped through religious and cultural constructs. As with recent discussion of agency, which situates it in specific cultural contexts, Cassaniti considers agency in the northern Thai Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Buddhist context, relating it to acceptance and letting go. The title, “Living Buddhism” not only refers to how Buddhism is alive in the everyday life of Mae Jaeng people, but also how they live Buddhism, how they practice, make sense of and deal with events and happenings in everyday life. The book speaks to existing literature in two different theoretical contexts. It starts off by engaging in discussion on Buddhism. The division, according to Melford Spiro, between lofty monastic Buddhism or nibbanic Buddhism on the one hand, and the everyday popular Buddhism or karmic Buddhism on the other, is questioned. While the questions and framework for understanding Buddhism are laid out very clearly from the beginning, questions regarding emotions and cultural psychology begin to be developed only as the story progresses and then more intensely as Sen’s story unfolds. The book in its entirety makes a strong case on both themes, which is to say, regarding how Buddhist teachings shape the lives and emotional orientations of the villagers, and how self, mind and emotion must be understood in cultural context, rather than as assumed universals. The strengths of the book are thus many. But here, I will posit questions that arose in my mind. First, wherever relevant throughout the book, Cassaniti refers to her interviews, how certain points repeatedly appear (or do not appear) in the interviews. Yet the reader does not get the sense of an overall distribution of responses. The passage in Chapter Three on gender and power is rather frustrating in that it is not written in a way that grounds the conclusion in the actual distribution of responses according to gender or power. I wondered, for example, how older men of authority as well as younger men about to go into the world talked about impermanence differently. Especially since the two younger men who are written with more detail of character and behavior, Sen and Ta, are both, if I may use the author’s own expression, “misfits”, who are unable to “let go”. Is this a coincidence, or is there something about young men and the difficulty of “letting go”? Second, how relevant are other aspects of religion and ritual in the discussion of impermanence and letting go? How, for example does magical Buddhism appear in the religious everyday life of the villagers, and how do they reconcile that with ideas of “impermanence” and “cool heart”? Or, how does Sen’s parents’ involvement with yo rei relate to their own problems with “letting go”? And, going back to gender issues, how are women’s responsibilities in the household and community related to the matrilineal spirit cults that are so often discussed in relation to rural Northern Thailand? In other words, the book, in its focus on impermanence and various central tenets of Buddhist doctrine, leaves out the many other aspects of Northern Thai religious life, some of which may well articulate with the discussion and analysis provided. However, having said that, I realize that dealing with such questions may compromise the impact and readability of the analytical and narrative storyline, which Cassaniti is very careful to maintain throughout the book despite the richness of her ethnography. I strongly recommend Living Buddhism to all scholars of psychological / medical anthropology, Buddhist studies and Thai studies, as well as for undergraduate classes in any of these disciplines, and even more widely, for anyone interested in understanding other cultures. Yoko Hayami Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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A History of Ayutthaya: Siam in the Early Modern World by Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017. ISBN: 9781108120197. 1,150 Baht. This book is introduced as “the first English language study of Ayutthaya’s emergence in the late thirteenth century to the city’s destruction in 1767”. This is an astonishing fact on which, to their credit, the authors do not dwell, exploit or boast, leaving readers to ponder it for themselves and for this reviewer to admire them for their audacious undertaking. The book, of course, did not emerge out of nowhere. From the very beginning in the “Preface: Ayutthaya in History”, the authors generously acknowledge the work of their predecessors, starting with the second footnote on Page ix citing “Brief notices of the history of Siam,” prepared by King Mongkut for Sir John Bowring in 1855, in Bowring, The Kingdom and People of Siam, vol 2, pp. 341–5. That book was published in 1857, 160 years ago. The authors bring us up to date, from the contributions of King Vajiravudh and Prince Damrong, which were “reflected in the first English–language history of Siam, published by W.A.R. Wood in 1924”. They then make a great leap over the next sixty years of “national history” to the 1980s with the arrival of the monthly journal, Sinlapa watthanatham (Art and Culture), which first appeared in November 1979, and the publication in 1984 of Srisakara Vallibhothama’s Krung si Ayutthaya khong rao (Our Ayutthaya) by Sinlapa Watthanatham and David K. Wyatt’s Thailand: A Short History by Yale University Press. Before the appearance of Sujit Wongthes’ Sinlapa Watthanatham and Srisakara’s Muang Boran (Ancient City) journal, there was the earlier excitement of the publication of Charnvit Kasetsiri’s The Rise of Ayudhya (Oxford University Press, Kuala Lumpur, 1976) and Nidhi Eoseewong’s Kanmueang thai samai phra narai (1980). The authors fully acknowledge the pioneering work of Charnvit and Nidhi, as well as those of Sunait Chutintaranond, Dhiravat na Pombejra, and Winai Pongsripian. Foreign scholars also contributed to the advancement of knowledge about Ayutthaya, notably Michael Vickery and Yoneo Ishii. After placing their book in its historiographical context, the authors proceed with their own exemplary work. They divide the book into seven chapters: “Before Ayutthaya”, “Ayutthaya Rising”, “An Age of Warfare”, “Peace and Commerce”, “An Urban and Commercial Society”, “Ayutthaya Falling”, and “To Bangkok”. The text is interspersed with useful Figures and Tables as well as maps. Figure 6.1 on Page 239 of a street scene depicted in murals of the Vidhura Jātaka at Wat Chong Nonsi, Bangkok, is particularly delightful. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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The book ends with an Appendix comparing “the list of Ayutthaya kings in David Wyatt’s Thailand: A Short History with the details available from the Luang Prasoet Chronicle, the Van Vliet Chronicle, and Sangkitiyavamsa.” The reader is referred to Michael Vickery’s review article: “Jeremias van Vliet Short History,” JSS, 64, 2 (1976), 207–36, for both of which this reviewer was responsible, the first as its editor before leaving for a posting to Jakarta and the second for its publication in 1975 in his capacity of Honorary Editor of the Journal of the Siam Society, the position held by Chris Baker today. The reader will appreciate from the Appendix and Michael Vickery’s discussion how difficult it is to write a history of Ayutthaya when even the names of the kings vary from one account to another. The Appendix is followed by a Glossary, Notes on Some Key Sources, References, and the Index. The authors note that, “Many sources on Siam have problems over authenticity and accuracy”, starting their discussion with Sukhothai Inscription 1, the Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya, the “Testimony” and “Description of Ayutthaya”, the accounts of La Loubère and Nicolas Gervaise, Laws, Literary Works and Murals. This reviewer was Honorary Librarian of the Siam Society when A.B. Griswold and Prasert na Nagara’s “Epigraphic and Historical Studies No.9 : The Inscription of Ramkamhaeng of Sukhothai (1292 A.D.)” came out in JSS, 59, 2 (1971), but was happily absent abroad for the entire period of “The Ram Khamhaeng Controversy”. As for Laws, I was the Honorary Editor for Michael Vickery’s “Prolegomena to Methods for Using the Ayutthayan Laws as Historical Source Material,” JSS, 72 (1984). The authors know all about the problems regarding the use of laws for Ayutthaya history as they translated and edited The Palace Law of Ayutthaya and the Thammasat (Cornell University Press, 2016) before the publication of this book. The bibliography in the References is comprehensive and up to date. For instance, there is Sunait Chutintaranond (ed.), Nai yuk awasan krung si mai khoei sueam [No decline in Ayutthaya’s final period], Bangkok, Sinlapa Watthanatham, 2015. I hope Dhiravat na Pombejra can find a publisher for his paper, “Catching and selling Siamese elephants in seventeenth Century: a preliminary study,” cited as unpublished in 2012 (p. 294) as his article “From Siam to India via Java: Elephants as gifts in pre–modern diplomacy”, published by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ Devawongse Institute in 2010, highlights “the use of elephants as gifts in diplomacy by the Siamese Kings of Ayutthaya, especially the sending of elephants from Siam to Java as presents for the Dutch Governors–General resident in Batavia (present–day Jakarta).” The index is also well done. It may be standard practice, but not in Thailand. By naming their first chapter “Before Ayutthaya”, the authors clearly declare their intention to go back to the very beginning of the “territory known as Siam”, long before “Ayutthaya looms into history” (p. 1). They manage to cover everything from early peoples to Dvaravati, the influence of Angkor, the arrival of the Tai and the emergence of Sukhothai at the end of the 13th century. It is a very useful summary of the latest research with telling details which show that Sukhothai was “a cultural crossroads, absorbing influences from Angkor, Pagan, the Mon country, Lanna, and the peninsula” (p. 42). The tentative conclusion to this chapter sets the stage for the second chapter, “Ayutthaya Rising”. The authors begin their proper history of Ayutthaya by quoting the opening of the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Luang Prasoet chronicle, “compiled in 1681”, discovered in 1907, 110 years before the publication of this book, and first translated into English by O. Frankfurter and published in the JSS in 1909. The text is “fascinating ... for what is missing.” But then as the authors exclaim, “Ayutthaya was a different kind of place.” That is a marvellous remark. From then on, their originality never stops. Readers will learn that “the great city of Ayutthaya was established” on 4 March 1351, but the “port–city” must have been there long before that in the area the Chinese called Xian from the end of the 13th century. The authors relate Xian to the rest of the Peninsula, Srivijaya and the “early age of commerce in Southeast Asia,” while “Over the next century, Xian / Ayutthaya” became “the Chinese authorities’ favourite trading partner in the southern seas” (p. 52). An early Portuguese visitor, Tomé Pires, noted that it was very cosmopolitan, with settlements of “Arabs, Persians, Bengalees, many Klings [south Indians], Chinese and other nationalities.” (p. 57) In its rise “From Port City to Territorial Power”, Ayutthaya inevitably interacted with its immediate neighbours, Suphanburi and Lopburi (the Chinese Luo of Xianluo), while the former had close ties to Sukhothai in the north, clearly delineated by Figure 2.1 (p. 61), this would eventually lead to the so–called first Fall of Ayutthaya in 1569 to the “northern nobles ... allied with the Peguan ruler.” (p. 83) This is now the accepted version of what happened, but it has yet to be absorbed by “national history”. Chapter 2 also has sections on “Ayutthaya, Lanna, and Angkor”, and “The Early Ayutthaya Polity”. On the matter of the “sacking” of Angkor in 1431, which continues to vex Thai-Cambodian relations to this day, an inscription was discovered at Dan Khunthot District, Korat, only ten years ago in 2007. Winai Pongsripian was the first to introduce this important discovery in a publication to celebrate the ninetieth birthday of Dr. Prasert na Nakorn in 2009. The inscription confirms the Luang Prasert Chronicle that an Ayutthaya army did “sack” Angkor in 1431. “King Borommaracha II ... was so pleased with its result that he conferred on its commanding general an elevated title and other honors” (p. 67). The inscription gives the title as Khun Si Chairat Mongkholthep, together with the names of thirteen of his chief officers. It is tremendously exciting to discover these people and to add them to history.Watanyu Fakthong, who wrote up the inscription in Volume 7 of the 100 key documents: essence of Thai history, a project of Winai Pongsripian for the Thailand Research Fund published in 2011,suggests that Khun Si Chairat Mongkholthep might have been the Phraya Thepmongkhol Phrutthamat referred to in the fragment 222 2/K 104 chronicle, who when he died, “King Borommaracha gave a measure of gold from the Treasury to ornate his funeral urn, then ordered Khun Sribat his son from Nakhon Luang to take his inheritance. As for Khun Prachanon, his younger brother, he ordered him to serve as Phrutthamat in his stead”. Nakhon Luang is Angkor and Phrutthamat might have been Chief Minister. Watanyu cited the complete fragment published by Winai in 1996, one side of which had been published by Michael Vickery in the JSS in 1977. As for the inscription itself, there is a more complete reading by Santi Pakdeekham in 2015 (pp. 306-307). There is still so much to be done if we are to understand the Early Ayutthaya Polity. Chapter 2 also has sections on “Political Geography”, “The Politics of Merger”, “Merging Languages”, and “Lankan Buddhism”, all of which are fascinating and Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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insightful. The authors cite another early Portuguese visitor, Joáo de Barros, in the 1550s providing “a description of Siam” as separated into two kingdoms, one belonging to “northern people”, mentioning two specific cities, Sukhothai and Sawankhalok, and the “other, which included Ayutthaya and the gulf coast, … called “Muantay”, glossed as reyno de baixo, the “kingdom below,” hence mueang tai, the southern realm. Barros added that the latter was “more correctly speaking” called “Siào” or Xian / Siam, and that the two areas spoke different languages.” (p. 69) This is very enlightening. As for the language of Ayutthaya / Siam, “The first Ayutthaya kings used the title Somdet, adopted from Khmer. Later the favoured form became “Somdet Chao Phraya” in which the three elements come from Khmer, Thai and Mon, respectively.” This is brilliant and applies to Ayutthaya culture in general. In Chapter 3, “An Age of Warfare”, which takes the reader to the end of the 16th century, the authors show a firm grasp of the strategic situation in Southeast Asia of the time. From “Rising Violence in Cross–Basin Warfare” to the use of “Elephants, Guns, and Mercenaries”, the implications of “War and Society” together with “The Culture of a Warrior Court”, the chapter inevitably ends with King Naresuan. This neatly brings together the earlier strands of interaction, competition and rivalry adumbrated in the previous chapter, “Ayutthaya Rising”. It is heartening that the authors do not shy away from the controversy over the Battle of Nong Sarai of 1593. The famous elephant–back duel between Naresuan and the Burmese uparaja ends “In the Burmese Chronicles and several European accounts of the event, however, …” when “the uparaja was killed by a gunshot, either fired by Naresuan, an unidentified soldier, or a Portuguese.” (p. 113) It is certainly not as glamorous as presented in the Thai national history version, but what matters is that the battle was won paving “the way for an age of peace, commerce, and prosperity” for “the next 150 years”. (p. 118) “Peace and Commerce” and “An Urban and Commercial Society”, the titles of Chapters 4 and 5 respectively, constitute the heart of this book. In the 17th century, Ayutthaya became the entrepot between east and west. “In 1617, the East India Company board believed the city was “as Great a city as London.” In 1685, Véret, the manager of the French company in Ayutthaya, thought it was “a bigger city than Paris”. (p. 182) To this great city, with an estimated population of half a million, (p. 182) came Japanese, “Moors”, Europeans of all sorts, as mercenaries, merchants, missionaries, adventurers, and of course the supreme example of a man on the make, “Constantine Phaulkon, a Greek who had spent much of his life employed on British ships” (p. 161). The story has been told before, but this book tells it better, putting the saga in its context of political and economic history. On “The Moors” (pp. 125-129), the authors commence by saying that they “had been present since early Ayutthaya … and that “the Persian Gulf port of Hormuz traded with Ayutthaya in the 1440s.” They then recall the arrival “in the early 1600s of “two Persian brothers”, one of whom “Sheikh Ahmed Qomi, remained in Ayutthaya and became involved with the court.” The addition of “Qomi” to Sheikh Ahmed’s name is a recent fabrication to link him to the city of Qom in Iran. According to Bunnag family history, the brothers came from Guni. This town can still be found in the area of Astarabad, south of the Caspian Sea. I hope the authors will consider dropping the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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designation of “Qomi” as the place of origin of Sheikh Ahmed in any future edition. At the heart of Ayutthaya was the monarchy about which, “In the Indies there is no state that is more monarchical than Siam,” was the conclusion reached by Nicolas Gervaise in 1688. (p. 148) The authors describe the sources of the monarchy’s wealth, which enabled royal patronage of Buddhism and the arts. But the “Hiding of the Royal Body” through the mystification of the monarchy, along with its fraught relationship with the nobility meant that the country which, according to Van Vliet, in the 1530s, “has more than most other countries of everything that the human being needs” (p. 133), was under some stress. “As a consequence of this concentration of power and wealth in the monarchy, the succession became the focus of all political competition, resulting in a series of bloody battles which culled many in the royal line and top nobility” (p. 171) and led finally to Ayutthaya’s defeat and destruction in 1767. Chapter 6 is an excellent account of “Ayutthaya Falling”. Leading up to the tragedy, there are sections on “Disorder and Revolt” and “Bandits, Crime, and Corruption”. In the Fall itself, readers are not spared the brutal and gory details. By using Burmese and foreign sources, the national history should be rewritten. For instance, in Volume 5 of Winai Pongsripian’s 100 key documents: essence of Thai history, Dhiravat na Pombejra translated the missive of Ok Phra Phiphatkosa to the VOC in 1769, which puts Taksin’s break–out from Ayutthaya before the Fall in a completely different light. It shows that Taksin was acting under royal command. This confirms Burmese accounts that Ayutthaya had put up a spirited defence. It fell to a more powerful adversary, bent on conquest, which won on superior tactics. The final Chapter takes the readers “To Bangkok” with King Taksin and the rapid revival of Siam. The groundwork has been laid in Chapter 6 with “Economic Expansion and Chinese Settlement” and “Nobility Rising” from the end of the 17th century through to the 18th century. Taksin was a perfect example of assimilation. At least one of the major noble families, which survived the fall of Ayutthaya, was of Chinese descent. (p. 270) The book ends with King Chulalongkorn’s speech of 1907 to inaugurate the Antiquarian Society. “In the ruins of the Ayutthaya palace”, the King said: “The idea is not to create a history of Siam quickly ... When there is enough material to print as a book then print it as a contribution to the history of Siam ... The sources should be indicated so others can see them and follow them up. If someone else reinterprets the material or has better sources, the author should not be ashamed, because he studied the material according to the knowledge and opinion of the time. If someone comes up with a better interpretation and more accurate reasoning, we should happily appreciate the major benefit of having a clearer and more reliable history of Siam.” (p. 276)

W.A.R. Wood’s A History of Siam was published in 1924. David K. Wyatt’s Thailand: A Short History came out in 1984. The first edition of Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit’s A History of Thailand appeared in 2005. We had to wait for their History of Ayutthaya until 2017, 110 years after King Chulalongkorn’s speech in Ayutthaya. It was well worth the wait. The authors have written a book of history at its best. They have Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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thoroughly mastered the historiography and use it in every chapter together with the latest research to drive the narrative. While the book is driven by analysis, chronology and dynastic history have not been neglected. The book is total history as the authors illuminate their work with literature and lore, religion and prophecy, laws, maps and murals, together with abundant foreign sources, some relatively new. While the role of the monarchy and nobility is fully acknowledged, that of merchants, commoners, free or in servitude, even the mob, is given full coverage. There is a fascinating section on “Family, Gender, and Sexuality” in Chapter 5, with subsections on “Commoners: Female Families and Loose Males” and “Nobles: Male Dominance and Female Submission.” The book is the work of mature and sophisticated scholars who considerably advance our knowledge and understanding of Thai history, taking us way back before the official founding of Ayutthaya in 1351 and beyond its fall in 1767 to the beginning of Bangkok. The details are meticulous and well chosen. The book is stimulating and fun to read, from beginning to end. The authors write beautifully; even their punctuation should satisfy the author of Eats, Shoots & Leaves. This ambitious work is a great achievement. Along with all their other contributions to Thai Studies, especially their wonderful translation, introduction and annotation of Khun Chang Khun Phaen and Yuan Phai, the authors are owed a debt of profound gratitude and thoroughly deserve the Fukuoka Grand Prize awarded to them last year. Tej Bunnag

Bencharong: Chinese Porcelain for Siam by Dawn F. Rooney. Bangkok: River Books, 2017. ISBN: 9786167339689. 995 Baht. Dawn Rooney has set out to write a definitive book on Bencharong. There is a crying need for such a volume, although many books have already been written on the subject. For those not familiar with this ceramic ware made in China for the Thai market, thanks to recent publications and increased demand, top quality antique Bencharong has become prohibitively expensive and hard to find in the market. Rooney has been following this scenario over her many years residing in Thailand and her own photographs of Chinese and local ceramics piled up for sale along the riverbanks in Ayutthaya as late as 1973 (20) demonstrate how the market has changed. Surviving Chinese ceramics and shards in the old capital are now conspicuously rare. The first attempt to systematically shed Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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thoroughly mastered the historiography and use it in every chapter together with the latest research to drive the narrative. While the book is driven by analysis, chronology and dynastic history have not been neglected. The book is total history as the authors illuminate their work with literature and lore, religion and prophecy, laws, maps and murals, together with abundant foreign sources, some relatively new. While the role of the monarchy and nobility is fully acknowledged, that of merchants, commoners, free or in servitude, even the mob, is given full coverage. There is a fascinating section on “Family, Gender, and Sexuality” in Chapter 5, with subsections on “Commoners: Female Families and Loose Males” and “Nobles: Male Dominance and Female Submission.” The book is the work of mature and sophisticated scholars who considerably advance our knowledge and understanding of Thai history, taking us way back before the official founding of Ayutthaya in 1351 and beyond its fall in 1767 to the beginning of Bangkok. The details are meticulous and well chosen. The book is stimulating and fun to read, from beginning to end. The authors write beautifully; even their punctuation should satisfy the author of Eats, Shoots & Leaves. This ambitious work is a great achievement. Along with all their other contributions to Thai Studies, especially their wonderful translation, introduction and annotation of Khun Chang Khun Phaen and Yuan Phai, the authors are owed a debt of profound gratitude and thoroughly deserve the Fukuoka Grand Prize awarded to them last year. Tej Bunnag

Bencharong: Chinese Porcelain for Siam by Dawn F. Rooney. Bangkok: River Books, 2017. ISBN: 9786167339689. 995 Baht. Dawn Rooney has set out to write a definitive book on Bencharong. There is a crying need for such a volume, although many books have already been written on the subject. For those not familiar with this ceramic ware made in China for the Thai market, thanks to recent publications and increased demand, top quality antique Bencharong has become prohibitively expensive and hard to find in the market. Rooney has been following this scenario over her many years residing in Thailand and her own photographs of Chinese and local ceramics piled up for sale along the riverbanks in Ayutthaya as late as 1973 (20) demonstrate how the market has changed. Surviving Chinese ceramics and shards in the old capital are now conspicuously rare. The first attempt to systematically shed Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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light on the subject was a book in Thai by HRH Prince Damrong Rajanubhab in 1917, titled Tamnan Krueng Toh Lae Thuey Pan (ตำ�นานเครือ่ งโต๊ะแลถ้วยปัน ้ ). Prince Damrong visited Ayutthaya in 1902 to inspect the antique artifacts collected by the late Phraya Boran Ratchathanin, the governor, including Chinese porcelain and Bencharong. In his book, the Prince mentioned an abundant quantity of Bencharong utensils with Theppanom motifs in Ayutthaya as well as in other important towns throughout the Siamese Kingdom. Hence the belief of later scholars that Bencharong with Theppanom motifs dated back to the Ayutthaya Period which ended in 1767. Following Prince Damrong’s groundbreaking book, the first comprehensive book on Bencharong written in English was by Natalie Robinson, titled Sino-Thai Ceramics in the National Museum, Bangkok, Thailand and in Private Collections (1982). The book is an admirable attempt to systematically categorize and classify Bencharong in terms of size, shape, motif, glaze, color and origin. Natalie Robinson’s pioneering typological exercise is revisited in Chapter 6 of Dawn Rooney’s book entitled “Bencharong Discovered.” Robinson’s discussion of shape, size, colour, function and motif are refreshingly re-presented and amplified in a more concise, systematic manner with sharper, more elegant photographs. Those who have struggled with Robinson’s dense, lengthy descriptions and monotone black and white photos will welcome Rooney’s simpler, lucid descriptions and conceptual layout accompanied by dazzling color photos. Chapter 6 takes the reader on an exhilarating walk through a grand Bencharong banquet elegantly laid out in a fine presentation. While Robinson’s discourses on size, shape, motif, and color have been definitive, many other important aspects of the subject have remained speculative. Since Prince Damrong’s book it has become proverbial wisdom that Bencharong was produced in China on a made-to-order basis for the Siamese court. Fine Bencharong was assumed to have been produced in Jingdezhen. But Bencharong shards had never been found in any excavation sites in China, so that the production methods, kiln locations, and glazing techniques that went into the production of Bencharong have remained largely speculative. We are now greatly indebted to Dawn Rooney for addressing these unanswered questions in her clear and informative Chapter 3, “Technology and Production”, about the manufacture of Bencharong. This chapter is competently executed and represents one of the strongest chapters in the book. Ceramists and collectors will enjoy Rooney’s technical presentation of potting, coloring, glazing, firing and enameling techniques. Writing forty years after Robinson, Rooney enjoys several advantages. China has opened up after the catastrophic Cultural Revolution (19661976), so she could actually visit Jingdezhen and other porcelain production centers. Moreover, Chinese scholars have in recent years excavated numerous new kiln sites. A clearer picture of Bencharong has thus begun to emerge. To her credit Rooney was proactive in seizing the opportunity to address new discoveries on the Chinese academic front and other parts of the world including Norway, having co-edited a book titled Royal Porcelain from Siam, Unpacking the Ring Collection (2013) about the large collection of Bencharong held at the Museum of Cultural History in Oslo. It was on a field trip to China in 2011 that she managed to find conclusive evidence that Bencharong was produced in Jingdezhen. Like the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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legendary Sherlock Holmes, she followed the clues which eventually led to the doorstep of the Yanhe excavation site in the outskirts of Jingdezhen. There she was treated to the rewarding experience of actually seeing Bencharong shards that had been excavated from the Chang River (63). Hence this excellent new book is able to provide conclusive proof of what Thais have always taken for granted—that Bencharong was produced in the great Chinese porcelain capital of Jingdezhen. This is a groundbreaking discovery which lays to rest a century of bickering between believers and sceptics as to whether Bencharong was produced, glazed, and enameled in Jingdezhen. Moreover, with the discovery of the Theppanom shards in the same strata as Chinese Daoguang-period (1820-1850) porcelain (64), many presumed Ayutthaya-period Bencharong wares may have to be redated to the King Rama III period (1824–1851) of the Bangkok Kingdom. Having put the main burning issue to rest we can comfortably accept the plausible proposition that not all stages of Bencharong production were executed at Jingdezhen. Some enameling and gilding of Bencharong was likely undertaken at Canton (Guangzhou) as well as possibly in Bangkok at the end of the 19th century. One of the kilns used for this purpose was located at the Front Palace of Prince Bavorn Vichaicharn, which was established in 1880. Glazed white porcelain spittoons were ordered from China and then enameled and fired there. However, this workshop closed down after Prince Bavorn Vichaicharn passed away in 1885 and the dating of one of his glazed spittoons as possibly early 20th century may thus be an oversight (65). Acknowledging that Bencharong: Chinese Porcelain for Siam embodies a major contribution to the academic literature on Bencharong, we can now turn to the other finer points of this new volume. The book begins with a marvelously lucid, concise and well conceptualized history of Bangkok entitled “Historical Connections.” Although the historical part of the book is short it more than makes up for brevity with conciseness of formulation and excellent supporting maps and antique prints. The rare maps tell as much of the story as the narrative. The combination of historical analysis and stunning maps make the first chapter outstanding. While the book represents an impressive academic achievement, collectors tend to skip the narrative and focus on the pictures and captions. The range of styles exhibited make this a valuable reference book for academics, collectors, and dealers alike. Naturally, the book has found a ready niche market in antique bazaars and collectors’ libraries. The questions at the back of their minds are: “Is this an authentic Ayutthaya, Rama II or Rama III piece?” or “Are the motifs, style, colour, cover, body and fitted parts correctly aligned? Unfortunately, for this readership there are several problematic pictures in the book. A case in point is the opening page of Chapter 5, “Forms and Functions” (98). The plate shows a mix of covered jars and (to the horror of many collectors) a covered spittoon. The difference between the two consists in the fact that Thai spittoons have no cover. The color and motifs are also a mismatch. Another mistake is the mythological creature depicted in the photo 4-31, “Kinnari (kinnara, male form)” (87). Connoisseurs point out that this is not a Himaphan Kinnari; rather it is a female Norasingh. The tail gives the picture away. A Kinnari has a feathered tail like a bird; but a Norasingh sports a lion’s tail. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Admittedly Bencharong with Kinnari motif is very rare. In over fifteen years of monitoring the Bencharong scene, we have seen only two pieces. One was a piece of a Kinnari shard in the personal collection of Phraya Boran Rachathanin. The small shard was mentioned in Prince Damrong’s book as a rare find, even in those days, at Vihara Somdet in the compound of the Royal Palace of Ayutthaya. The shard was put on display in 2016/17 at Phraya Boran’s Exhibition organized by his daughter at the Chan Kasem National Museum in Ayutthaya. Another beautiful Kinnari motif Bencharong toh jar is in the Lek Viriyaphant collection. Our disappointment is only that with a slightly better photo editing effort this book would be not only an outstanding academic treatise but also an excellent, faultlessly executed book on the subject. Dawn Rooney deserves three cheers for writing the most definitive and up-to-date book on the subject of Bencharong. Buy it! Jeffery Sng and Pimpraphai Bisalputra

A Critical Study of Thailand’s Higher Education Reforms by Rattana Lao. Oxford: Routledge, 2015. ISBN: 9781138575868 (paperback), £36.99; ISBN: 9781138022683 (hardback), £110; ISBN: 9781315776927 (eBook), £33.29. A Critical Study of Thailand’s Higher Education Reforms analyses the complex relationship between globalisation and education policymaking, with a critical evaluation of the influence exercised by Western models of higher education in the past 100 years, their implications for the present status of tertiary education in the kingdom and the numerous obstacles associated with their implementation. Comprising ten chapters, the first four provide the theoretical foundation, setting out the case for Thailand within the globalisation of higher education policy, the adoption of Western education models through selective borrowings, and the changing role of the Thai state in the administration of higher education, with the Asian economic crisis as a window of opportunity towards the transition of public institutions to autonomous universities. Chapter Five discusses the development of the interrelated phenomenon of the internationalisation of higher education and its attendant challenges, i.e. quantity vs. quality. Chapters SixNine deal with the politics of international ranking and Thailand’s research landscape, the emergence of, and rationale for, quality policies, the global-local nexus of quality Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Admittedly Bencharong with Kinnari motif is very rare. In over fifteen years of monitoring the Bencharong scene, we have seen only two pieces. One was a piece of a Kinnari shard in the personal collection of Phraya Boran Rachathanin. The small shard was mentioned in Prince Damrong’s book as a rare find, even in those days, at Vihara Somdet in the compound of the Royal Palace of Ayutthaya. The shard was put on display in 2016/17 at Phraya Boran’s Exhibition organized by his daughter at the Chan Kasem National Museum in Ayutthaya. Another beautiful Kinnari motif Bencharong toh jar is in the Lek Viriyaphant collection. Our disappointment is only that with a slightly better photo editing effort this book would be not only an outstanding academic treatise but also an excellent, faultlessly executed book on the subject. Dawn Rooney deserves three cheers for writing the most definitive and up-to-date book on the subject of Bencharong. Buy it! Jeffery Sng and Pimpraphai Bisalputra

A Critical Study of Thailand’s Higher Education Reforms by Rattana Lao. Oxford: Routledge, 2015. ISBN: 9781138575868 (paperback), £36.99; ISBN: 9781138022683 (hardback), £110; ISBN: 9781315776927 (eBook), £33.29. A Critical Study of Thailand’s Higher Education Reforms analyses the complex relationship between globalisation and education policymaking, with a critical evaluation of the influence exercised by Western models of higher education in the past 100 years, their implications for the present status of tertiary education in the kingdom and the numerous obstacles associated with their implementation. Comprising ten chapters, the first four provide the theoretical foundation, setting out the case for Thailand within the globalisation of higher education policy, the adoption of Western education models through selective borrowings, and the changing role of the Thai state in the administration of higher education, with the Asian economic crisis as a window of opportunity towards the transition of public institutions to autonomous universities. Chapter Five discusses the development of the interrelated phenomenon of the internationalisation of higher education and its attendant challenges, i.e. quantity vs. quality. Chapters SixNine deal with the politics of international ranking and Thailand’s research landscape, the emergence of, and rationale for, quality policies, the global-local nexus of quality Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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policies (the case of the Office of National Education Standards and Quality Assessment, or ONESQA), the intended and unintended consequences of quality policies, including an analysis of the roles played by quality assessment (QA) in terms of higher education policy at the national and the institutional level. Chapter Ten concludes the book with an analysis of the culture of borrowing and Thailand’s reform fatigue, with a discussion of how the philosophical concept of utilitarianism has guided the kingdom’s higher education, the quantitative challenges in the context of limited financial resources and uneven distribution of resources, and the implications inherent in the country’s higher education foundations being rooted in teaching rather than research. Over two decades ago, Thailand’s reform fatigue within the culture of borrowing may have been foreseen in a report on the country’s education in the era of globalization, which concluded that: “Education reform in Thailand will require a genuine sense of commitment and a true spirit of collaboration among concerned parties”.1 The commission’s report recommended reforming the entire educational system in Thailand, as a way of taking up the challenges of the globalisation movement, for its bearing on almost all aspects of national development. This was reiterated in January 2018, with the announcement that applications for a four-year ‘Smart’ visa would be accepted, beginning in February 2018, from highly skilled foreign professionals,2 to work or invest in ten targeted industries, to accelerate knowledge transfer, stimulate the growth of specialised fields and ultimately increase Thailand’s competitiveness and promote its long-term economic development. The economic model of ‘Thailand 4.0’, within the digital era, has been brought under the spotlight in relation to the country’s overall quality of education and the growing inequality in the system. Historically, skilled foreign professionals have been viewed as a threat to job security, prompting the government to allay public fears by reiterating that the protection of thirty-nine other professions is still enshrined in Thai labour law when the four-year ‘Smart’ visa programme is implemented. The book employs the theoretical and critical lens of the “politics, economics and culture” of borrowing, to rationalise the different forms of external forces. The author’s doctoral dissertation3 forms the backbone of the majority of data in this book, by triangulating the three methods of document analysis, semi-structured interviews and a three-month observation at the ONESQA offices. However, the book reaches beyond the author’s doctoral dissertation, by delving into issues connected with other Thai higher education systems, including deregulation, privatisation, autonomous university policy, the phenomenon of internalisation and the rise of international league tables, supplemented by an additional eleven interviews with key policymakers and academics. This considerable bank of data has been rationalised through the medium of thematic analysis, to identify patterns or themes within the data. One overarching theme is the historical conundrum of Thailand deftly escaping 1

Thai Education in the Era of Globalization 1996: 36. The commission’s report contains the recommendations for the reform of the entire educational system in Thailand as a way to take up the challenges of the globalisation movement, for its bearing on almost all aspects of national development (p. 3). 2 Sullivan 2018. 3 Lao 2013. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Western colonisation (unlike her neighbours from Myanmar to Brunei), only to experience “occupation” through the borrowing and adoption of Western ideas. Selective borrowings were brought to the kingdom by discerning elites, who employed them to further the cause of modernity of the education system, thus promoting a vision of Bangkok elites as more advanced than the rest of the country. Late in the 19th century, the royal court tended to associate itself with Europe as the source of power and knowledge, with King Chulalongkorn famously declaring that: “... to employ foreigners is like having readymade textbooks. It means that we have in hand men whose qualifications have already been proven and guaranteed”.4 Borrowings were encouraged and pursued, provided they did not conflict with aspects of Thai society, affording elites relative freedom to select ideas and concepts from the West. Challenges and dilemmas characterise these select borrowings, chiefly the predicament of quantity vs. quality and student-teacher relationships based on Thai traditional hierarchy and seniority. In the Thai tradition, teachers are respected members of the community, a principle enshrined in the work of a committee appointed to define “the teachers’ etiquette and discipline in compliance with the Teachers [sic] Act 1945 [B.E. 2488].5 Chulalongkorn University was established in 1917 with the purpose of training Thai elites to serve in the modern bureaucracy and nation building, influenced by the French grandes écoles and the German School of Science concept. The translation of the British, French and German ideas and concepts into models fit for Thailand was limited by the lack of resources (financial and academic) and the urgent needs of the kingdom to have trained civil servants. The European models that dominated the earlier days of nation building have since been largely supplanted by post-Second World War American models whose influence can be felt in the development of Asian universities. Fragmented policymaking and lack of policy dialogues continue to affect education policymaking in general and higher education in particular, and have resulted in noticeable regional disparities. The provision of higher education institutions in provincial areas served to mitigate the spread of communism, particularly in the north-east, which was becoming receptive to the one-party ideology and where “poverty and its proximity to Indochina”6 prompted renewed efforts to recruit villagers into the monkhood. “Living paradoxes”7 is the term used by Herzfeld to define dependency and independence, not colonised but colonised, a convenient route for the Thai state to paint itself as being “civilised/siwilai” – an equal partner to the West. Another paradox is the search for balance in the need to maintain Thai-ness and the mission for modernisation. 4

Numnonda 1974: 122, quoting King Rama V to Phya Visutsuriyasak, 3 February 1899, p. 306, from ‘Correspondence between King Rama V and Chao Phraya Phrasadet Surentharathibodi 18941899’, Bangkok, 1961. 5 Education in 1961 Thailand, p. 65. The Teachers’ Act, B.E. 2488 (1945) was repealed by The Teachers and Educational Personnel Council Act, B.E. 2546 (2003), which received royal assent on 24 May 2003. 6 Baker and Phongpaichit 2005: 172. 7 Herzfeld, M. 2002. ‘The absent presence: Discourses of crypto-colonialism’, South Atlantic Quarterly, 101(4), pp. 899-926, quoted in R. Lao, A Critical Study of Thailand’s Higher Education Reforms, p. 24. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Other writers have discussed the incongruence of the Thai educational paradox, despite large educational expenditures as a percentage of the national budget “and the presence of much impressive educational leadership talent”.8 Thailand invests close to a fifth of its overall government expenditure on education, which for 2013 the World Bank has calculated at 18.9 percent of total government expenditure, compared to 20.0 percent for Singapore, 19.5 percent for Malaysia and 9.6 percent for Japan.9 In parallel with other countries, improvements in Thailand’s quality of education stem from a shift in focus towards institutions and efficient education spending, not just additional resources. The author’s description of educational development recalls the work of Watson and his discussion of the borrowings and subsequent adoption/adaptation in Thailand, mainly from a perspective of Western influence and contact. Watson argued that, all too often, borrowings were grafted onto the existing monastic system, without first establishing whether the new system’s stated objectives were consistent with the needs.10 The evolution from original elitist imprint brought about massification - the process of taking higher education to the mass market. Massification, and its consequences, looms large in this book, in its evolution from original elitist to wide availability. Statistical data reports that just over two million students11 were enrolled in tertiary education in 2012, against the approximately 124,000 undergraduates registered in all government universities at 1975. Moreover, 2013 World Bank data for tertiary enrolment totalled a respectable 51.4 percent for Thailand, compared to Germany’s 61.1 percent and Japan’s 62.4 percent.12 These data, however, do not provide information on the quality of education in higher education institutions. Crucial in the massification process has been the creation of two open universities in the 1970s, with significant ramifications for the expansion of overall access to higher education in Thailand as a way of accommodating students not enabled by competitive entrance exams. The simplified admission process has entailed some unintended consequences, involving students unable to graduate within five years and a significant dropout rate, combined with a general lack of faculty chair holders, which potentially threatens the quality of higher education provided by the institutions. High dropout rates and grade repetition have been documented in other countries, including Brazil, where a World Bank study found that “higher cognitive skills in primary school lead to lower repetition rates”.13 Concerns about Thai quality assessment were first expressed in the 1980s. Between 1990 and 2000, Thailand joined the group of QA-concerned countries engaged in higher 8

Fry 2013. ‘Expenditure on education as % of total government expenditure (%)’, https://data.worldbank. org/indicator/SE.XPD.TOTL.GB.ZS?locations=TH (accessed 18 January 2018). 10 Watson 1980. 11 Data include graduates from diploma courses, as well as undergraduates, graduate certificates, Master’s degree graduates, PhD awards and other degree types. 12 ‘Gross enrolment ratio, tertiary, both sexes (%)’, https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SE.TER. ENRR?locations=TH (accessed 16 January 2018). 13 Hanushek and Wößmann 2007: 2. 9

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education massification drives. A study by the World Bank illustrates the implications of quality of education not just for personal earnings in the job market but also for economic growth and income distribution, with the effect of educational quality being more sharply felt “in low-income countries than in high-income countries”14 when a sample of countries was separated based on whether a country was below or above the median of GDP per capita in 1960. Other studies have lamented the low employability of graduates from some Thai universities and that, for all types of Thai universities, “English language skills are noted as one of the major weaknesses”.15 The most contentious Thai policy in the higher education sector is the autonomous university policy, underpinned by the conviction that “the market can induce more efficiency, productivity, and competitiveness than state actors”. Privatisation of higher education in Thailand refers to the transfer in ownership from public control to private management, but it can also refer to the “adoption” and “introduction” of market principles to public institutions without a change in ownership. Several piecemeal changes have been introduced since 1964, aimed at increasing efficiency and productivity of higher education management. However, privatisation has brought in its wake practical and logistical challenges which require universities to submit annual budgets to the Ministry of University Affairs (MUA) a full twelve months prior to the fiscal spending, with each budget detailed and itemised. Surplus funds from the previous fiscal year must be returned to the central coffers of the Budget Bureau. The transformation of public universities into autonomous institutions is the longterm vision of the Thai state. Public universities are painted as ossified, outmoded and “hurdles and bottlenecks for the development of Thai higher education”. By contrast, autonomous institutions are portrayed as better managed and more efficient. Despite pockets of resistance from groups fearing loss of benefits and job stability, the process of converting public universities into autonomous institutions has met with a measure of success, since the policy “attempts to lessen the heavy burden of the government financial subsidy for public universities and to resolve the rigid structure of Thai bureaucracy within the university”.16 Rattana Lao does not shy away from discussing cultural aspects like patronage in higher education, a system built on personal ties and personal connections which “has crept in at every level”. The lack of objectivity and transparency inherent in the patronage system hampers the development of junior staff, while consolidating the position, and perpetuating the benefits, of those established in their respective fields. The strength of A Critical Study of Thailand’s Higher Education Reforms is in the use of primary sources, in both Thai and English, to build a comprehensive case for Thailand’s higher education through the decades. Its in-depth analysis and discussion of historical events makes a significant contribution to the knowledge of higher education in Thailand. Lia Genovese Hanushek and Wößmann 2007: 8. Herberholz and Sukontamarn 2014: 27. 16 Rungfamai 2013: 109. 14 15

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References Baker, C. and P. Phongpaichit. 2005. A History of Thailand, Cambridge University Press, Port Melbourne, Australia. Education in 1961 Thailand. 1961. Ministry of Education, Bangkok, Thailand. Fry, G.W. 2013. The Evolution of Educational Reform in Thailand: The Thai Educational Paradox, Journal of Educational Administration, 51/3, pp. 290-319. Hanushek, E.A. and L. Wößmann. 2007. Education Quality and Economic Growth, The World Bank, Washington, DC, USA. Herberholz, C. and P. Sukontamarn. 2014. Higher Education in ASEAN with special reference to Thailand, Asian Review, 27, pp. 27-55. Lao, R. 2013. The Logic of the Thai Higher Education Sector on Quality Assessment Policy, PhD Dissertation, Columbia University, USA. Numnonda, T. 1974. The First American Advisers in Thai History, Journal of the Siam Society, 62/2, pp. 121-148. Rungfamai, K. 2013. Historical Context of Research Universities in Thailand, Jurnal Kajian Sejarah & Pendidikan Sejarah, 1/2, pp. 103-112. Sullivan, B. 2018. ‘Four Years “Smart” Visa Approved To Support Thailand 4.0 Goals’, 19 January 2018, www.thailand-business-news.com/visa/67444-four-years-smart-visaapproved-support-thailand-4-0-goals.html (accessed 23 January 2018). Thai Education in the Era of Globalization: Vision of a Learning Society. A Synopsis of the Report of The Commission on Thailand’s Education in the Era of Globalization: Towards National Progress and Security in the Next Century. 1996. Watson, K. 1980. Educational Development in Thailand, Heinemann Asia, Hong Kong.

Siam and World War I: An International History by Stefan Hell. Bangkok: River Books, 2017. ISBN: 9786167339924. 1,200 Baht. In July 1917, Prince Charoon (Charoonsakdi Kritakara), head of the Siamese legation in Paris, was thrilled to learn that Siam had abandoned the neutrality it had maintained for the first three years of the Great War. He rejoiced in the decision to join Britain and France against Germany and the other Central Powers. The prince declared that there was “no doubt that this is our real opportunity of raising the Status of our beloved country” (140). The opportunity he envisioned was diplomatic and strategic. He saw in this move a chance for Siam to show its civilization as the equal to that of the Western European powers. The prince believed, as did many Siamese leaders of his generation, that such arguments about Siam’s exhibition Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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References Baker, C. and P. Phongpaichit. 2005. A History of Thailand, Cambridge University Press, Port Melbourne, Australia. Education in 1961 Thailand. 1961. Ministry of Education, Bangkok, Thailand. Fry, G.W. 2013. The Evolution of Educational Reform in Thailand: The Thai Educational Paradox, Journal of Educational Administration, 51/3, pp. 290-319. Hanushek, E.A. and L. Wößmann. 2007. Education Quality and Economic Growth, The World Bank, Washington, DC, USA. Herberholz, C. and P. Sukontamarn. 2014. Higher Education in ASEAN with special reference to Thailand, Asian Review, 27, pp. 27-55. Lao, R. 2013. The Logic of the Thai Higher Education Sector on Quality Assessment Policy, PhD Dissertation, Columbia University, USA. Numnonda, T. 1974. The First American Advisers in Thai History, Journal of the Siam Society, 62/2, pp. 121-148. Rungfamai, K. 2013. Historical Context of Research Universities in Thailand, Jurnal Kajian Sejarah & Pendidikan Sejarah, 1/2, pp. 103-112. Sullivan, B. 2018. ‘Four Years “Smart” Visa Approved To Support Thailand 4.0 Goals’, 19 January 2018, www.thailand-business-news.com/visa/67444-four-years-smart-visaapproved-support-thailand-4-0-goals.html (accessed 23 January 2018). Thai Education in the Era of Globalization: Vision of a Learning Society. A Synopsis of the Report of The Commission on Thailand’s Education in the Era of Globalization: Towards National Progress and Security in the Next Century. 1996. Watson, K. 1980. Educational Development in Thailand, Heinemann Asia, Hong Kong.

Siam and World War I: An International History by Stefan Hell. Bangkok: River Books, 2017. ISBN: 9786167339924. 1,200 Baht. In July 1917, Prince Charoon (Charoonsakdi Kritakara), head of the Siamese legation in Paris, was thrilled to learn that Siam had abandoned the neutrality it had maintained for the first three years of the Great War. He rejoiced in the decision to join Britain and France against Germany and the other Central Powers. The prince declared that there was “no doubt that this is our real opportunity of raising the Status of our beloved country” (140). The opportunity he envisioned was diplomatic and strategic. He saw in this move a chance for Siam to show its civilization as the equal to that of the Western European powers. The prince believed, as did many Siamese leaders of his generation, that such arguments about Siam’s exhibition Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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of Western norms, culture, and behavior were critical to maintaining the kingdom’s independence in the face of Western colonial threats. Committing Western-style military units to a European war provided a great stage upon which to display those civilization markers to the colonial powers that had threatened Siam’s sovereignty over the previous half century. It was not lost on the prince that those same “civilized” European nations were trying to annihilate each other’s armies with increasingly horrific homicidal technology. But in hailing the opportunity to join the war, he knew the opportunity came with grave dangers and potential losses. For the first years of the conflict, Siam’s leaders chose neutrality for the safety it seemed to promise. They had seen the peril of crossing France and Britain in global affairs only a couple of decades earlier. Furthermore, many Siamese elites had positive impressions of Germany, admiring its material culture, schools, and the country’s lack of territorial ambition in Southeast Asia. Most of Siam’s leaders, including King Vajiravudh himself, had studied in one or more of the warring nations with several receiving military training there. They struggled to avoid being drawn in while representatives of the Allies and Central Powers in Siam pursued various schemes to undermine each other’s standing in Southeast Asia. In the midst of economic disruption and sub rosa maneuvers, the royal court endured intense diplomatic pressure to take a side. Outrage over German submarines resuming unrestrictive warfare to target civilian vessels, and the deaths of two Siamese princes in one such attack, compelled Bangkok to join Britain and France against Germany and Austria-Hungary. In pursuing a moral argument for choosing war, Bangkok advanced a similar argument put forward by the United States when it had abandoned its neutral stance a few months earlier. Siam could have stopped with its declaration of war and followed a safe course. It could have contributed supplies, raw materials, and access to port facilities as aid to the exhausted British and French forces. But its leaders chose to pursue a more perilous track. They opted to move against Germany and its military assets in Siam. Immediately, they seized a dozen German ships harbored in Siam; and they imprisoned Germans, Austrians, and other citizens of the Central Powers living there. Then they volunteered to send special military units – an aviation detachment and logistical teams – to the front in Europe. And as Stefan Hell demonstrates in his superb study, Siam and World War I: An International History, they successfully navigated a course through a host of geopolitical dangers to emerge more firmly in control of the kingdom’s independence. They laid the groundwork for a historical argument about Siam/Thailand’s ability to fight successfully in Western-style wars. In the process of joining Britain and France, however, they may have revealed more about Thai chauvinist attitudes toward other Asian peoples than they had ever realized. Hell’s scrupulously researched and sumptuously illustrated history offers several interwoven tales of Siam’s involvement in the Great War from multiple perspectives and subfields of history. It tells the story of a Southeast Asian kingdom that declared war on powerful European states during the height of the Western imperial era. It describes Siam’s delicate diplomatic maneuvering while actively being wooed and resented by representatives from both the Central Powers and the Allies. It describes the experiences of some 1,300 Thai men who traveled across the globe to serve upon the frozen hellscapes Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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of trench warfare’s horrible final days. It includes the plight of European families who overnight became prisoners of war in Siam, and that of their Siamese counterparts who suffered—with some even perishing—in German confinement. Hell traces the international and national with great detail and rewarding analysis. He also provides an interesting account of the transformation of Siam into a proxy battlefield between the European belligerents. Among the book’s more interesting sections are descriptions of how Germany sought to use Siam as a base for fomenting unrest among Indians in British colonial units in Burma. Their efforts failed to spark Indian mutinies and, instead, antagonized Siamese leaders struggling to remain neutral. Hell builds upon earlier works of the Rama VI period by offering a more sophisticated treatment of Siamese diplomacy before, during, and after the war. He provides multiperspectival accounts of events in Europe and Siam that have hitherto received inadequate attention. His study is a worthy elaboration of the period as described in such landmark studies as Walter F. Vella’s Chaiyo! Decisions made regarding Siam’s grandest foreign policy venture fell to many of the princely leaders surrounding the king. Hell’s focus on the contributions of Princes Chakrabongse, Charoon, Devawongse, Paribatra, and Mahidol gives English-language readers a view into the biographies of these important figures normally only found in Thai-language histories. His study is especially good on the role that two Thai leaders – Prince Chakrabongse and Prince Charoon – played in shaping Siam’s response to the dangers and opportunities that the war brought about. In addition to official government sources from archives in Bangkok and London, the author draws upon hitherto inaccessible materials such as secret memoranda and family correspondence, and even some royal diaries. The endnotes are a treasure trove for scholars of the period. The volume is beautiful. While it might seem strange to characterize a history of one of the modern era’s ugliest events in such terms, the book’s numerous and varied illustrations enliven the text and vivify its descriptions (including its uglier episodes). The volume is lushly illustrated with photographs on nearly every page, with posters, postcards, tickets, pamphlets, and other historical ephemera interspersed throughout. All images are reproduced sharply, with many getting big layouts. Historians and casual readers will find their examination fruitful and satisfying. There are multiple wars underway in Hell’s study, and not all of them are martial or even visible. In addition to the military conflict raging on battlefields and at sea, there are battles fought over civilization markers within the words of diplomatic cables, in the exchanges of civilian prisoners, and in the hearts of the participants. French racist attitudes are starkly evident in cables to Paris that praise the Thai seizure of German vessels in the Chaophraya River despite “the childishness of the Siamese even when the most serious matters are concerned” (94). In another telling incident, a British engineer’s assault of two Siamese soldiers in Bangkok is answered by Prince Chakrabongse issuing a statement asserting that “Respectful and good manners must be mutual” [italics original] (138). And to reinforce his point, he dispatches a Siamese cavalry unit to parade noisily outside the British expatriates’ club as its members gather for their daily cocktail hour. Hell’s study makes it clear that Siam was fighting a war over its humanity. But in trying to make a strenuous argument that will be understood in British and French Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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psyches, they come close to parroting a similarly racialist view. To demonstrate to Western eyes that Siamese air units and logistics crews are the equal of British and French troops, they must suggest Siamese superiority to the Asian peoples subjugated by the European imperialists. Siam’s leaders go to great lengths to distinguish their soldiers from the many thousands of unskilled Chinese and Vietnamese workers brought to Europe by their colonial masters to serve as “coolie labor.” Siam’s refusal to allow the expeditionary units to sail aboard ships carrying Vietnamese and Chinese, for example, carries the appearance of disdain for their fellow Southeast Asians. In one section of Hell’s study, Prince Charoon struggles with the subtleties of disabusing the French of their attitudes toward all Asians without explicitly expressing the same racist position while he plans the composition of the Siamese military delegation. In his cables back to Bangkok, he insists that Siam’s French-speaking interpreters carry the rank of commissioned officers with the reminder that “the general belief among the French [that] we are the same as Annamites must be dissipated” (147). In trying to speak to the French, the Siamese end up sounding like them. The freshest section of Hell’s study concerns the adventures of these Siamese soldiers in Europe, a story told better here than anywhere else. His account of their time in Europe makes for engrossing reading. Descriptions of the Thai troops’ efforts to adjust to the harsh environment of the front lines are both heart-wrenching and, at times, humorous. Despite their woolen uniforms and long coats, they are unable to abide the unfamiliar assault of Europe’s damp autumn and stinging winter. The unfortunate soldiers must also get by on meager rations and haphazard sleeping quarters. Compounding their discomfort is the growing menace of the influenza pandemic as it grows ever more virulent. Despite the Siamese sacrifices, their allies offer little gratitude. In the anecdote that begins this volume, a unit of Siamese soldiers hopelessly lost on the backroads of the French countryside face starvation when French troops repeatedly refuse to share their rations. The Siamese are spared only after stumbling upon a group of American soldiers who offer food and directions. Many of the Siamese soldiers who traveled to France came to hate the French even more than they had when Siam was neutral. The French reputation for haughtiness that most of the Siamese troops had known only through political rhetoric is confirmed by rude treatment from many French allies. In one telling episode, a French interpreter, already disappointed to be eating with a Siamese unit, refuses to pass bread to them during the meal because “it wasn’t part of [his] duties” (180). Things get worse when the French aviation officers entrusted to teach the Siamese airmen begin ordering them around. Prince Charoon’s letter to King Vajiravudh lays bare the problem in simple terms. “Of course our men resent it greatly & simply hate the French now,” he writes in one dispatch. “I am deeply sorry that this is the result which is quite opposite of what our intention should be & that of Your Majesty’s policy” (189). Prince Charoon described the expeditionary force as a “bit of show.” Its real military value to the Allies on France’s Western Front is debatable, but, as the author makes clear, its political value to Siam is undeniable. Despite the depravations and deaths among its expeditionary forces, Siam’s gamble was successful. Its entry into the Great War helped the country regain its full sovereignty by using participation and the subsequent Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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peace talks to leverage an end to extraterritoriality. Equally compelling is the author’s demonstration of the enduring idea of Siam’s First World War victory that continues to reverberate in Thailand’s collective memory. His study concludes with an exploration of the monuments, memorials, histories, organizations, and films dedicated to Siam’s Great War adventure. The conclusion makes clear that Siam’s short experiences on the European battlefields and negotiating tables in 1918-19 have cast a long shadow over Thailand’s leadership, armed forces, and citizenry in the century that followed. Stefan Hell’s excellent study should be labeled “required reading” for anyone interested in a full and nuanced account of this important chapter in the kingdom’s history. Richard A. Ruth

Hill of Prosperity: Excavations at Khok Charoen, Thailand. A Burial Site at the StoneMetal Junction by Helmut Loofs-Wissowa. Oxford: BAR Publishing, 2017. ISBN: 9781407315065. £73. Many foreign archaeologists have excavated prehistoric sites in Thailand, and too few have published a final report. It is, therefore, a rare pleasure to find that the excavations at Khok Charoen, that took place half a century ago, have now been described in this important volume. Khok Charoen (KC) is one of the few Neolithic sites in Thailand to have been excavated, and still stands as one that has furnished a large assemblage of human burials matched by more recent fieldwork at Khok Phanom Di, Ban Non Wat and Nong Ratchabat in Supanburi. The site lies on the eastern edge of the Bangkok plain, just north of Chai Badan. A series of low mounds that bisect two streams, it appears to have been a cemetery, for despite test pits and at least three major areas opened by excavations, very little evidence has been forthcoming for where the Neolithic inhabitants lived, save for the occasional post hole and non-mortuary potsherds. This report, therefore, concentrates on the mortuary record identified in three different parts of the site. Each interment from KC III is described: the sex and age of the dead individual, the orientation and the associated mortuary offerings. These are illustrated with black and white photographs and sketches of each burial, with each grave labelled and described in the text. Some burials were virtually devoid of associated artefacts, but others were relatively wealthy. Burial 6 from area III, for example, involved an adult Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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peace talks to leverage an end to extraterritoriality. Equally compelling is the author’s demonstration of the enduring idea of Siam’s First World War victory that continues to reverberate in Thailand’s collective memory. His study concludes with an exploration of the monuments, memorials, histories, organizations, and films dedicated to Siam’s Great War adventure. The conclusion makes clear that Siam’s short experiences on the European battlefields and negotiating tables in 1918-19 have cast a long shadow over Thailand’s leadership, armed forces, and citizenry in the century that followed. Stefan Hell’s excellent study should be labeled “required reading” for anyone interested in a full and nuanced account of this important chapter in the kingdom’s history. Richard A. Ruth

Hill of Prosperity: Excavations at Khok Charoen, Thailand. A Burial Site at the StoneMetal Junction by Helmut Loofs-Wissowa. Oxford: BAR Publishing, 2017. ISBN: 9781407315065. £73. Many foreign archaeologists have excavated prehistoric sites in Thailand, and too few have published a final report. It is, therefore, a rare pleasure to find that the excavations at Khok Charoen, that took place half a century ago, have now been described in this important volume. Khok Charoen (KC) is one of the few Neolithic sites in Thailand to have been excavated, and still stands as one that has furnished a large assemblage of human burials matched by more recent fieldwork at Khok Phanom Di, Ban Non Wat and Nong Ratchabat in Supanburi. The site lies on the eastern edge of the Bangkok plain, just north of Chai Badan. A series of low mounds that bisect two streams, it appears to have been a cemetery, for despite test pits and at least three major areas opened by excavations, very little evidence has been forthcoming for where the Neolithic inhabitants lived, save for the occasional post hole and non-mortuary potsherds. This report, therefore, concentrates on the mortuary record identified in three different parts of the site. Each interment from KC III is described: the sex and age of the dead individual, the orientation and the associated mortuary offerings. These are illustrated with black and white photographs and sketches of each burial, with each grave labelled and described in the text. Some burials were virtually devoid of associated artefacts, but others were relatively wealthy. Burial 6 from area III, for example, involved an adult Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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female, who lay with at least eleven ceramic vessels. She wore a stone bracelet on the right, and probably a second bracelet comprising 103 shell disc beads on the left wrist. Offerings, that chime with more recently excavated Neolithic sites, include tektites and bivalve shells that continued as almost certainly symbolic offerings representing fertility well into the Iron Age. Khok Charoen IV lies 160 metres north of KC III, near the junction of the two streams. As with KC III, the excavation was laid out in four by four metre squares divided by one metre baulks. Again, the burials, nineteen in all, are described one by one. Here, the layout incorporated the initial test squares designated KC I. The graves were relatively widely spaced, on a north or north-east orientation. Unlike Khok Phanom Di, there is no clustering of possible kin groups, and in this respect, the layout is most similar to that seen in the later of the two Neolithic mortuary phases at Ban Non Wat. The same variation in the wealth of the graves was identified. Burial 8 in this area, for example, had an adult female as the primary interment, but at least two infants and the fragmentary bones of a young male were also recovered. Several bivalve shells were associated, as well as at least ten pottery vessels and one or two stone adzes. Excavations at Khok Charoen II, the largest of the three and located on the eastern edge of the site, have been reported in Wendy Ho’s dissertation, and are not further described in this volume other than the integration of the principal results. It was found that the forty-five graves in this area were later than those in the other excavated areas. The pottery vessels are one of the finest collections from any Neolithic site in Thailand, and are illustrated by fine line drawings. A salient characteristic is the range of designs incised on their exterior surfaces. These belong to a widespread Southeast Asian horizon, that is well represented at Ban Non Wat, Khok Phanom Di, Nong Ratchabat and beyond, into the Phung Nguyen culture of Northern Vietnam. The chronological contexts for these vessels go back to about 2000 BC. They are the hallmark for the expansion into Southeast Asia of rice and millet farmers from the Yangtze and Yellow River valleys. The initial Neolithic settlers also brought their own tradition of extended inhumation interment, stone adzes and the manufacture of shell and stone ornaments, particularly in the form of beads. All these are represented at Khok Charoen, including impressions of rice and millet on some of the pottery vessels. Helmut Loofs-Wissowa encountered difficulties half a century ago with obtaining suitable radiocarbon samples for dating and, indeed, radiocarbon dating has developed since in leaps and bounds. He prefers, conservatively, a chronological context in the later part of the Neolithic span, placing Khok Charoen somewhere in the period 1300-1000 BC. I tend to think this a little conservative: it might be earlier by several centuries. It is timely that this volume should appear in Helmut Loofs-Wissowa’s ninetieth year. He is a true pioneer of Southeast Asian prehistory. In my opinion, one of his most characteristic and accurate statements was to describe the dating of Ban Chiang bronzes in the fourth millennium BC as “not science, but science fiction”. He is to be congratulated on fulfilling his obligations, and joining a small group of those who actually publish their Thai excavations. Charles Higham Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

Contributors to this Volume

Chris Baker is honorary editor of JSS. With Pasuk Phongpaichit, he recently published A History of Ayutthaya: Siam in the Early Modern World, and was awarded the Fukuoka Grand Prize for 2017. Joachim K. Bautze has a PhD in Indian Art History from Freie Universität Berlin and was Professor at the South Asia Institute, Heidelberg University, Germany, at the Wako Daigaku, Tokyo, Japan and the Freie Universität Berlin, Germany. He has written several catalogues and books on Indian art as well as photography in India and Thailand. Bonnie Pacala Brereton does research on local Buddhist material culture and ritual, on topics including village mural painting, recitations of Phra Malai, and the Vessantara Jataka. She earned a doctorate in Buddhist studies and master’s degrees in Southeast Asian studies and Asian art history at the University of Michigan. She is the author of Thai Tellings of Phra Malai: Texts and Rituals Concerning a Popular Buddhist Saint (1995) and co-author with Somroay Yencheuy of Buddhist Murals of Northeast Thailand: Reflections of the Isan Heartland (2010). She has written several articles about the preservation of local Isan murals and the Lao-Isan epic, Sinsai. Her most recent publication is “Phra Malai Texts, Telling Them Apart – Preface or Performance,” Journal of Mekong Societies 13, 3 (2017). Chris Buckley was educated at Balliol College, Oxford and at Wolfson College, Oxford, where he received a PhD in Physical Chemistry. He is an independent researcher, and a Member of the Common Room at Wolfson College. For the past two decades he has lived mainly in Asia, but he now lives in Oxfordshire, UK. He is a researcher in textiles, weaving technologies and weaving cultures, applying systematic comparative methods to investigate the history and development of culture. He is the co-author with Eric Boudot of Roots of Asian Weaving (Oxbow Books, 2015). David Chandler is an Emeritus Professor of History at Monash in Melbourne, Australia. He is the author of A History of Cambodia (4th edition, 2009) and six other books. He has published seven articles in the JSS. Christian Daniels has been Professor of Chinese history in the Division of Humanities, Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, since 2015, and Division Head since July 2017. He served as Professor of Chinese history at the Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa (ILCAA), Tokyo University of Foreign Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Studies, from 1996 to 2014. He began his career researching the history of Chinese technology (main book length publication: Joseph Needham Science and Civilisation in China, Volume 6 Part III Agro-Industries: Sugarcane Technology, Cambridge University Press, 1996). Since 1996, his research has focused on the history of Yunnan and northern mainland Southeast Asia, with a strong emphasis on Tai polities. Lia Genovese holds a PhD from SOAS-University of London for a dissertation titled “The Plain of Jars of North Laos—Beyond Madeleine Colani.” In 2006, she graduated from the same institution with a Master’s degree (with Distinction) in the History of Art and Archaeology. She lectures at Thammasat and Silpakorn Universities (Bangkok) and is a member of the Lecture Committee at the Siam Society. Her current research interests include: the Plain of Jars of Laos; colonial archaeology; the megaliths of South and Southeast Asia; Iron Age mortuary practices; the life and work of French archaeologist Madeleine Colani; and cultural heritage. Alexandra Green is Henry Ginsburg Curator for Southeast Asia at the British Museum, London, UK. Her book, Buddhist Visual Cultures, Rhetoric, and Narrative in Late Burmese Wall Paintings, was published by Hong Kong University Press in 2018. Her edited volumes include Burma: Art and Archaeology (British Museum Press, 2002), co-edited with Richard Blurton, Eclectic Collecting: Art from Burma in the Denison Museum (NUS Press, 2008), and Rethinking Visual Narratives from Asia: Intercultural and Comparative Perspectives (HK University Press, 2013). Current projects comprise a history of the British Museum’s Thai collection, the relationship between word and image in Burmese popular posters, a history of Southeast Asia based on the British Museum collection, and an exhibition on Sir Stamford Raffles’ collecting practices. Yoko Hayami is professor at the Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Kyoto University. She is an anthropologist working in Thailand and Myanmar. Her research has covered ethnic minority groups (Karen specifically), religious dynamics, family and gender issues, care and aging. She obtained her PhD from Brown University, and her published books include Between Hills and Plains: Power and Practice in Socio-Religious Dynamics among Karen (2004) and The Family in Flux in Southeast Asia: Institution, Ideology and Practice (co-edited with Junko Koizumi, Ratana Tosakul, and Chalidaporn Songsampan, 2012). Charles Higham is a Research Professor at the University of Otago, and an Honorary Fellow of St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge. He has directed excavations in Thailand and Cambodia since 1969, most recently at Ban Non Wat and Non Ban Jak, both key sites to dating and interpreting the Neolithic settlement to the period of early state formation. A Fellow of the British Academy and the Royal Society of New Zealand, his research has been recognized at the Shanghai Archaeological Forum, and by the award of the Grahame Clark and Mason Durie medals. He is an Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Akiko Iijima received her MA in Asian history from the University of Tokyo. She is a historian, who has been studying the history of northern mainland Southeast Asia, with a focus on “the cultural region of Tham script manuscripts”. She is affiliated with Toyo Bunko, Tokyo, and, is currently the president of the Japan Society for Southeast Asian Studies. Patrick Jory is senior lecturer in Southeast Asian History and Convenor of the History program in the School of Historical and Philosophical Inquiry at the University of Queensland. He is author of Thailand’s Theory of Monarchy: the Vessantara Jataka and the Idea of the Perfect Man (New York: SUNY Press, 2016). Ken Kirigaya is currently a private researcher with a special interest in the history of various Tai-speaking peoples of northern mainland Southeast Asia. His previous articles have been published in JSS 102 (2014) and JSS 103 (2015). William Klausner is presently an adjunct professor at the Faculty of Political Science and a senior fellow at the Institute of Security and International Studies, Chulalongkorn University. He received his BA, JD and MA in Southeast Asian Studies at Yale University. He has written extensively on village life in northeast Thailand. Among his published works are Reflections on Thai Culture; Transforming Thai Culture: From Temple Drums to Mobile Phones; and Thai Culture in Transition: Social and Political Implications. Over a period of more half a century, he has worked with both Thai and foreign foundations, including the Jim Thompson Foundation, the John F. Kennedy Foundation, the Ford Foundation, and the Rockefeller Foundation. David Lawitts is an American researcher and documentary film-maker based in Chiang Mai since 2002. A graduate of the University of Wisconsin in Madison and Chiang Mai University, his research has focused on American foreign policy in Southeast Asia, intelligence history, religion and missionaries, and the politics of ethnic minorities. He is currently working on a multigenerational biography of the Young family of missionaries. Tamara Loos is professor of history at Cornell University and former director of the Southeast Asia Program. Her most recent book, Bones around My Neck: The Life and Exile of a Prince Provocateur (Cornell U. Press, 2016), narrates Siam’s history during the era of high colonialism through the dramatic and tragic life of a pariah prince, Prisdang Chumsai (1852–1935). Loos’ first book, Subject Siam: Family, Law, and Colonial Modernity in Thailand, explores the implications of Siam’s position as both a colonized and colonizing power in Southeast Asia. It is the first study that integrates the Malay Muslim south and the gendered core of law into Thai history. Her teaching and articles focus on an array of topics including sex and politics, a global history of love, subversion and foreign policy, sexology, transnational sexualities, comparative law, sodomy, the family, suffrage, and citizenship in Asia.

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Pasuk Phongpaichit is professor in the Faculty of Economics, Chulalongkorn University, and an assocaite member of the Royal Society of Thailand. With Chris Baker, she recently published Unequal Thailand: Aspects of Income, Wealth, and Power, and A History of Ayutthaya: Siam in the Early Modern World, and was awarded the Fukuoka Grand Prize for 2017. Pimpraphai Bisalputra graduated from the London School of Economics and went to Cornell University for postgraduate studies. She has published extensively on the ThaiChinese in Thai, including Samphao sayam [Siamese junk] and Nai mae. With Jeffery Sng she has co-authored Bencharong and Chinawares in the Court of Siam (2011) and A History of the Thai-Chinese (2015). Nicolas Revire, born in Paris, France, has been a lecturer at the Faculty of Liberal Arts, Thammasat University, Bangkok, since 2003. He completed a doctoral degree at the Université Paris 3–Sorbonne nouvelle in 2016. He specializes in the Buddhist art and archaeology of South and Southeast Asia with a research focus on pre-modern Thailand. He is general editor of a collective volume titled Before Siam: Essays in Art and Archaeology and published in collaboration with the Siam Society (2014). Craig Reynolds is a historian in the School of Culture, History, and Language, College of Asia and the Pacific, Australian National University. He is writing a biographical study of the southern Thai policeman, Khun Phantharakratchadet (1898-2006). His most recent publication is “A Deity Conjured from the Mid-South’s Ancient Heritage” in Wannasarn Noonsuk, ed., Peninsular Siam and Its Neighborhoods: Essays in Memory of Dr Preecha Noonsuk (2017). Richard A. Ruth is the chair of the History Department and an associate professor of Southeast Asian history at the United States Naval Academy. He is the author of In Buddha’s Company: Thai Soldiers in the Vietnam War. Peter Skilling is a professor of the French School of Asian Studies (EFEO; ret.), based in Bangkok, a special lecturer at Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok, and honorary associate, Department of Indian Sub-Continental Studies, University of Sydney, Australia. He is co-editor (with Jason A. Carbine, Claudio Cicuzza, and Santi Pakdeekham) of How Theravāda is Theravāda? Exploring Buddhist Identities (Chiang Mai, 2012) and co-editor with Justin McDaniel of Buddhist Narrative in Asia and Beyond (2 vols., Bangkok, 2012). Jeffery Sng graduated in philosophy and English literature from the University of Singapore, and pursued postgraduate studies at the Department of Government and the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies in Cornell University. He has written on Chinese ceramics and the history of the Overseas Chinese, and co-authored, with Pimpraphai Bisalputra, Bencharong and Chinawares in the Court of Siam: The Surat Osathanugrah Collection (2011) and A History of the Thai-Chinese (2015). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018

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Paul Michael Taylor, a research anthropologist at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, is director of that museum’s Asian Cultural History Program, and serves as curator of Asian, European, and Middle Eastern Ethnology. He is an author or editor of fourteen books and numerous scholarly articles on the ethnography, ethnobiology, linguistic anthropology, and art or material culture of Asia. He has also curated twenty-one museum exhibitions (including five online virtual exhibitions) and helped produce twelve ethnographic films. Tej Bunnag is an Honorary Member of the Siam Society. He has served on the Council at various times as 1st Vice President, Honorary Editor of the JSS and Honorary Librarian. His book, The Provincial Administration of Siam 1892-1915 (Oxford University Press, East Asian Historical Monographs, Kuala Lumpur, 1977), was translated into Thai and reprinted for the third time in 2013. Barend J. Terwiel retired in 2007 from the Chair of Thai and Lao Languages and Literatures, Hamburg University. He has written extensively on Thai history, Theravada Buddhism, and the Tai of Assam. His most recent publications were: “Bigotry and Tolerance: Two Seventeenth Century Reactions to Thai Buddhism”, in Monika Arnez and Jürgen Sarnowsky, eds., The Role of Religions in the European Perception of Insular and Mainland Southeast Asia, 2016: “François Valentijn’s Map of ‘The Great Siamese River Me-Nam’”, JSS 105, 2017; and “Cultural Goods and Flotsam: Early Thai Manuscripts in German and Those Who Collected Them”, Manuscript Studies, 2, 1, 2017. Wasan Panyagaew has worked at Chiang Mai University since 1994. Currently, he is Head of the Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Faculty of Social Sciences. He gained his PhD in Anthropology from The Australian National University, Canberra, in February 2006 under the supervision of Professor Nicholas Tapp [1952-2015]. His most recent publication on Tai Buddhism, “Remembering with Respect: History, Social Memory and the Cross-Border Journeys of a Charismatic Lue Monk”, was published in Religion and Mobility in a Globalising Asia: New Ethnographic Explorations (2014).

Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 106, 2018