Journal of the Siam Society; 103

Table of contents :
JSS_103_0a_Cover
JSS_103_0a_Front
JSS_103_0b_Brereton_PreservingTempleMuralsInIsan
JSS_103_0c_LavyClarke_IntegratingThePhongTuekVisnu
JSS_103_0d_Stadtner_RajadhirajsRangoonRelics
JSS_103_0e_Cheesman_ANewMethodOfClassicicationForTaiTextiles
JSS_103_0f_Vitthya_SiamsOldSingaporeTies
JSS_103_0g_Paisarn_SiamThroughTheLensOfJohnThomson
JSS_103_0h_Bautze_EmilGrooteCourtPhotographerToThreeKingsOfSiam
JSS_103_0i_Taylor_ThailandsChowPahNegritos
JSS_103_0j_Woodward_BangkokKingshipTheRoleOfSukhothai
JSS_103_0k_PeeraGrabowsky_OverviewOfThaiManuscriptsAtTheNordseeMuseum
JSS_103_0l_KenKirigaya_TheEarlySyamAndRiseofMangMao
JSS_103_0m_KenKirigaya_LannaUnderBurma
JSS_103_0n_ReviewArticlesLostKingdoms
JSS_103_0o_Reviews
JSS_103_0p_ObituaryRenard
JSS_103_0q_ObituaryEvans
JSS_103_0r_Contributors
JSS_103_0s_Back

Citation preview

Paul A. Lavy and Wesley Clarke • Integrating the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu: The Archaeology and Art History of a Forgotten Image Donald Stadtner • Rajadhiraj’s Rangoon Relics and a Mon Funerary Stupa Patricia Cheesman • A New Method of Classification for Tai Textiles

Journal of the Siam Society

Bonnie Pacala Brereton • Preserving Temple Murals in Isan: Wat Chaisi, Sawatthi Village, Khon Kaen, as a Sustainable Model

Vitthya Vejjajiva • Siam’s Old Singapore Ties Paisarn Piemmettawat • Siam Through the Lens of John Thomson 1865-1866: A Photo Essay

Paul Michael Taylor • Thailand’s “Chow Pah Negritos” (Maniq) in 1897 and 1899: Smithsonian Records of W. L. Abbott’s Expeditions to the Trang-Phatthalung Border Highlands Hiram Woodward • Bangkok Kingship: The Role of Sukhothai Peera Panarut and Volker Grabowsky • Overview of Thai Manuscripts at the Nordsee Museum (Nissenhaus) in Husum, Germany Ken Kirigaya • The Early Syām and Rise of Mäng Mao: Western Mainland Southeast Asia in the “Tai Century” Ken Kirigaya • Lan Na under Burma: A “Dark Age” in Northern Thailand?

ISSN 0857-7099

Volume 103 • 2015

Joachim Bautze • Emil Groote, Court Photographer to Three Kings of Siam

JSS

Volume 103 • 2015

Patrons of the Siam Society Patron His Majesty King Bhumibol Adulyadej Vice-Patrons Her Majesty Queen Sirikit His Royal Highness Crown Prince Maha Vajiralongkorn Vice-Patron and Honorary President Her Royal Highness Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn Honorary Vice-Presidents Her Majesty Ashi Kesang Choeden Wangchuck, The Royal Grandmother of Bhutan His Imperial Highness Prince Akishino of Japan His Royal Highness Crown Prince Frederik of Denmark

Council of the Siam Society, 2012–2014 President

Mrs Bilaibhan Sampatisiri

1st Vice-President 2nd Vice-President 3rd Vice-President

Dr Weerachai Nanakorn Mr Suraya Supanwanich Ms Beatrix Dayde Latham

Leader, Natural History Section Honorary Secretary Assistant Honorary Secretary Honorary Treasurer Honorary Librarian Honorary Editor, JSS Honorary Editor, NHB

Dr Weerachai Nanakorn Mr Jumbhot Chuasai Mr Peter Laverick Mr James Lehman Mr Suraya Supanwanich Mrs Beatrix Dayde Latham Dr Christopher Baker Dr Prachya Musikasinthorn

Members of Council Mrs Pimpraphai Bisalputra Mrs Fumiko Boughey Mrs Somlak Charoenpot Dr Wisoot Karnchanapunyapong

Mrs Pikulkaew Krairiksh Mrs Pongkwan Lassus Mrs Montira Unakul Mr William Waung

Past Presidents of the Siam Society Mr W. R. D. Beckett Dr O. Frankfurter Mr H. Campbell Highet Mr W. A. Graham Professor George Coedès Phya Indra Montri (Francis Giles) Major Erik Seidenfaden His Highness Prince Dhani Nivat His Royal Highness Prince Wan Waithayakon His Highness Prince Dhani Nivat His Highness Prince Prem Purachatra His Serene Highness Prince Ajavadis Diskul Phya Anuman Rajadhon His Royal Highness Prince Wan Waithayakon Professor Chitti Tingsabadh His Serene Highness Prince Subhadradis Diskul Mom Rachawong Patanachai Jayant Dr Piriya Krairiksh Mr Athueck Asvanund Mr Bangkok Chowkwanyun Mrs Bilaibhan Sampatisiri Mom Rachawong Chakrarot Chitrabongs Mr Athueck Asvanund

1904–1906 1906–1918 1918–1921 1921–1925 1925–1930 1930–1938 1938–1940 1940–1944 1944–1947 1947–1965 1965–1967 1967–1968 1968–1969 1969–1976 1976–1979 1979–1981 1981–1989 1989–1994 1994–1996 1996–1998 1998–2004 2004–2006 2006–2010

Honorary Members (with year of election)

Professor Prawase Wasi H. E. Mr Anand Panyarachun Phra Dhammapitaka Mrs Virginia di Crocco Mr Henri Pagau-Clarac Mr Term Meetem Professor Michael Smithies Dr William Klausner Dr Pierre Pichard Thanpuying Putrie Viravaidya H. E. Dr Thanat Koman Mr Euayporn Kerdchouay Professor Prasert na Nagara Dr Thawatchai Santisuk Dr Warren Y. Brockelman Dr Piriya Krairiksh Dr Sumet Jumsai Dr Chetana Nagavajara Dr Tej Bunnag Dr Peter Skilling

1985 1992 1995 1995 1995 1995 1996 2000 2000 2000 2000 2001 2001 2001 2002 2002 2002 2004 2004 2010

The Journal of the

Siam Society Volume 103 2015

Cover: Khon and Lakhon Troupe, detail, photographed by John Thomson, 1865-1866. Courtesy of the Wellcome Library, London and River Books, Bangkok.

Honorary editor: Chris Baker Editor: Paul Bromberg Advisors: Tej Bunnag, Michael Smithies, Kim W. Atkinson © The Siam Society, 2015 ISSN 0857-7099 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without prior permission from the Siam Society. The Journal of the Siam Society is a forum for original research and analysis. Opinions expressed in the Journal are those of the authors. They do not represent the views or policies of the Siam Society. Printed by Amarin Printing and Publishing Public Company Limited 65/16 Chaiyapruk Rod, Taling Chan, Bangkok 10170, Thailand Tel. (662) 422-9000 • Fax (662) 433-2742, 434-1385 E-mail: [email protected] • http://www.amarin.com

Journal of the Siam Society Volume 103

2015 Contents

Articles Preserving Temple Murals in Isan: Wat Chaisi, Sawatthi Village, Khon Kaen, as a Sustainable Model Bonnie Pacala Brereton...................................................................................... 1 Integrating the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu: The Archaeology and Art History of a Forgotten Image Paul A. Lavy and Wesley Clarke...................................................................... 19 Rajadhiraj’s Rangoon Relics and a Mon Funerary Stupa Donald M. Stadtner.......................................................................................... 63 A New Method of Classification for Tai Textiles Patricia Cheesman............................................................................................ 89 Siam’s Old Singapore Ties Vitthya Vejjajiva............................................................................................. 107 Siam through the Lens of John Thomson 1865-1866: A Photo Essay Paisarn Piemmettawat.................................................................................... 133 Emil Groote, Court Photographer to Three Kings of Siam Joachim Bautze............................................................................................... 143 Thailand’s “Chow Pah Negritos” (Maniq) in 1897 and 1899: Smithsonian Records of W. L. Abbott’s Expeditions to the Trang-Phatthalung Border Highlands Paul Michael Taylor........................................................................................ 161 Bangkok Kingship: The Role of Sukhothai Hiram Woodward........................................................................................... 183 Overview of Thai Manuscripts at the Nordsee Museum (Nissenhaus) in Husum, Germany Peera Panarut and Volker Grabowsky............................................................ 199 Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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The Early Syām and Rise of Mäng Mao: Western Mainland Southeast Asia in the “Tai Century” Ken Kirigaya................................................................................................... 235 Lan Na under Burma: A “Dark Age” in Northern Thailand? Ken Kirigaya................................................................................................... 269

Review Articles Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia by John Guy Reviewed by Piriya Krairiksh........................................................................ 295 Reviewed by John Listopad........................................................................... 306

Reviews Siam - Through the Lens of John Thomson 1865-66 Including Angkor and Coastal China by Paisarn Piemmettawat, edited and translated by Narisa Chakrabongs Reviewed by Paul Bromberg.......................................................................... 313 The Man Who Accused the King of Killing a Fish: The Biography of Narin Phasit of Siam, 1874-1950 by Peter Koret Reviewed by James A. Warren....................................................................... 316 Before Siam: Essays in Art and Archaeology edited by Nicolas Revire and Stephen A. Murphy Reviewed by John N. Miksic......................................................................... 319 Tribute and Profit: Sino-Siamese Trade, 1652-1853 by Sarasin Viraphol Reviewed by Wasana Wongsurawat.............................................................. 324 A Man in Saffron Robes: A Rainy Season as a Buddhist Monk at a Hilltop Temple in Northern Thailand by Maitree Limpichart, translated by Stephen Landau Reviewed by Paul Bromberg.......................................................................... 326 Khmer Bronzes: New Interpretations of the Past by Emma C. Bunker and Douglas Latchford Reviewed by Paul A. Lavy............................................................................. 328 Auf der Suche nach einer grenzüberschreitenden Wissenschaftskultur. Gesammelte Aufsätze 2001-2013 by Chetana Nagavajara Reviewed by Karl E. Weber........................................................................... 336

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Exploration and Irony in Studies of Siam over Forty Years, by Benedict R. O’G. Anderson, Reviewed by Chris Baker............................................................................... 340 The Grand Palace and Old Bangkok by Naengnoi Suksri, Narisa Chakrabongse, Thanit Limpabandhu, with photography by Paisarn Piemmettawat. Reviewed by Donald M. Stadtner.................................................................. 342

Obituaries Ronald Duane Renard (1947-2014)................................................................... 347 Grant Evans (1948-2014)................................................................................... 351 Contributors to this Volume............................................................................... 355 Notes for Contributors........................................................................................ 359

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Preserving Temple Murals in Isan: Wat Chaisi, Sawatthi Village, Khon Kaen, as a Sustainable Model1 Bonnie Pacala Brereton Abstract—Wat Chaisi in Sawatthi village, Sawatthi District, located about twenty kilometers from the bustling provincial capital of Khon Kaen, is a unique example of local cultural heritage preservation that was accomplished solely through local stakeholders. Its buildings, as well as the 100 year-old murals on the ordination hall, have been maintained and are used regularly for meritmaking and teaching. The effort was initiated by the abbot and is maintained through the joint effort of the wat community, Khon Kaen Municipality, and various individuals and faculties at Khon Kaen University. This paper will examine the role of local leadership in promoting local cultural heritage.

Introduction Of the more than 40,000 Buddhist wats in Thailand seventeen percent, or nearly 7,000, are abandoned.2 Of those still in use, many are becoming increasingly crammed with seemingly superfluous new structures, statues, and decorations, funded by people seeking fame or improvement in their karmic status. Still others are thriving because of the donations they attract through their association with what is sometimes called “popular Buddhism,” a hodgepodge of beliefs in magical monks, amulets, saints, and new rituals aimed at bringing luck and financial success (Pattana 2012). Yet countless others are in a moribund state, in some cases tended by one or two elderly, frail monks who lack the physical and financial resources to maintain them. Both situations are related to the loss of cultural heritage, as countless unique This paper is adapted from one presented at the Fifth International Conference on Local Government, held in Palembang, Indonesia, September 17-19, 2014. I am grateful to the College of Local Administration, Khon Kaen University, for its support in helping me attend the conference. I would also like to thank the Center for Research on Plurality in the Mekong Region, Khon Kaen University, for support of my ongoing research on the Sinsai theme. 2 There were a total of 40,717 wats in Thailand as of December 31, 2004, of which 33,902 are in current use, according to the Office of National Buddhism. See http://www.dhammathai.org/ watthai/watstat.php, accessed March 20, 2015. 1

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old buildings throughout the country have been torn down and replaced by generic modern ones based on a Central Region model provided by the Department of Religious Affairs. Against this background, Wat Chaisi stands out. Located in what I call the Isan Heartland (Brereton and Somroay 2010), the center of Thailand’s northeastern region, about twenty kilometers from the bustling provincial capital of Khon Kaen in Sawatthi village, its modest but inimitable, century-old ordination hall and the unique murals covering it are the basis of local pride and spiritual focus. Through regular activities based around the story depicted in the murals and local Lao-Isan ethnic traditions,3 Wat Chaisi is a source of stability and cohesion for the villagers of Sawatthi even as the province where it is located is among those experiencing the nation’s greatest rate of growth and construction.4 Twenty-five years ago, however, Wat Chaisi was in a state of decline as the result of having been without permanent resident monks for three decades. The temple was revitalized when the current abbot, Phra Khru Bunchayakorn, a native son of Sawatthi who had moved away with his family as a child, returned and led the community in renovating the ordination hall, restoring its traditions, and renewing the people’s faith. The process has enabled the village to experience a sense of empowerment, identity, and self-esteem. Using this temple as a model that might inspire others, this paper will identify key leadership, organizational, and communication factors that have contributed to the preservation of cultural heritage at the local level in northeast Thailand. It should be noted that this preservation was accomplished without any intervention, promotion, or support from either the Tourism Authority of Thailand5 or the Fine Arts Department.

Tradition and change As recently as forty years ago in Southeast Asian Buddhist societies, the village monastery served as the hub and the heart of community life; it functioned as a spiritual center, gathering place, school, medical dispensary, fairground and more. A large percentage of men were ordained at some point in their life for varying periods of time and most boys received their education as novice monks. Temple buildings, while modest by today’s standards, were a source of local pride and cohesion as The vast majority of people in the Northeast are of Lao ethnicity with ancestors who migrated to Thailand for various reasons, sometimes as prisoners of war. 4 Land prices in Khon Kaen in 2013 rose more than 30 percent, but, a glut of housing began to appear early in 2015. See Sasithorn (2015), Somluck (2013), Kanana (2015). 5 However, in 2014 the local Khon Kaen branch of the Tourism Authority was planning a pilgrimage-style tour for Thais to a number of Isan wats, including Wat Chaisi, and sent a group of representatives to discuss plans with the abbot. 3

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they were built through communal effort and support. Each temple was distinct, with a design that emerged from the imagination, resources, and local tastes of the community. Over the past four decades Thai society’s rapid modernization, urbanization, and economic growth have taken their toll on spiritual life. The ratio of monks and novices to the population has fallen by more than half (Fuller 2012) and critics, such as Phra Paisal Visalo, feel that Thai Buddhism is in a state of crisis.6 At the same time, Thailand has lost much diversity in the material aspects of its spiritual culture. This has been in large part due to the country’s nation-building policy throughout most of the 20th century, propelled by notions of “Thainess,” (Saichol n.d.), which de-emphasized regional cultural variations and ethnic roots. In terms of temple architecture, the Department of Religious Affairs issued standard designs based on Bangkok aesthetics that can be found on new temple buildings constructed throughout the country. James Stent, head of the Working Committee of the Siamese Heritage Trust of the Siam Society, has pointed out that, “Local communities in the provinces have been conditioned to believe that if they build temples…in the styles that their ancestors developed, then they will be looked down upon by officials—they will be seen as “provincial” so better to adopt accepted Bangkok styles” (Stent 2012: 7-8). Moreover, murals as diverse as those discussed in this paper are no longer being painted. Instead, throughout the entire country, most of the murals painted after the late 1950s closely follow, or are copied directly from prints produced by the Bangkok religious publishing company, So. Thammaphakdi & Sons (Hacker 2011; Burin 2011). While Isan is better known for its ancient majestic Khmer ruins, which have been heavily promoted by the Fine Arts Department and the Tourism Authority of Thailand, its cultural heritage also includes numerous lesser-celebrated, modest Lao ordination halls dating from the first half of the 20th century. Known in the local Isan (Lao) language as sim, these buildings exhibit remarkable architectural diversity both in their form and in the murals depicted on many of them. Efforts to preserve them were first initiated in the 1980s by artist Pairote Samosorn and architect Wiroj Srisuro, Khon Kaen University professors born and raised in southern Thailand. Their perspective as outsiders perhaps enabled them to see the uniqueness of the buildings and their murals, and lobby for their preservation with local abbots who were inclined to prefer modern replacements. A survey conducted by Pairote (1989) found seventy-four temples with murals, some of which no longer exist. Within this group exists a subgroup of fifteen temples that have murals on both the exterior and interior walls of the ordination halls. This subgroup is found primarily in three “Public faith is constantly eroded by wayward monks, their blatant abuse of the saffron robes, widespread laxity in monks’ discipline, fierce competition for monastic ranks, and distortions of Buddhist teachings.” See Intharachai (2015).

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provinces—Khon Kaen, Maha Sarakham, and Roi Et.7 Murals found in other parts of Isan, such as those along the Mekong River, are stylistically different from those in the Isan Heartland, which are the focus of this paper (Pairote 1989; Brereton and Samroay 2010). The ordination halls discussed here share several characteristics, including a broad low roof that extends outward on all sides to protect the murals from the effects of sunlight and rain.8 In addition, most have a substructure composed of the following: an eastern (front) wall consisting of three narrow bays with a door in the center; a western (back) wall of three narrow bays; and side walls of three wider bays with a window in one or two of them. Yet the façades of each sim are totally different, as are the stylistic features and artistic quality of the paintings. At Wat Chaisi, the façade is a complex, crowded composition of pilasters, false windows, redundant window frames, and moldings resulting in a fragmented surface divided into compartments of different sizes and shapes, with countless corners and protrusions (Figures 1, 2, 3, 4). While this would seem like an unlikely background for murals, the artist has managed to completely fill in the compartments with vigorous paintings that cover every inch of the surface, even wrapping in and out of the many corners formed by the pilasters. The narrative depicted at Wat Chaisi is Sinsai,9one of the most popular stories depicted in Isan murals. It is often called one of three masterpieces of Lao classic literature,10 which exists in numerous forms and was extremely popular in Isan until the second half of the 20th century. The story, set in an ancient royal city, centers on the abduction of the king’s sister by an ogre (Lao: nyak) and the efforts of her three nephews, one of whom is the hero Sinsai, to bring her back home. The plot is one of high adventure and magic as Sinsai encounters countless mammoth-sized elephants, Numerous sim with murals of diverse styles are also found on ordination halls in Amnat Charoen, Ubon Ratchathani, Mukdahan, and Nakhon Phanom. In Ubon Ratchathani, Wat Thung Sri Muang’s paintings reflect Central Region murals both in style and the content of genre scenes, which reflect Bangkok, rather than Isan ways of life. See Polson (2012). The oldest extant murals, and one of the finest examples are on the sim at Wat Si Maha Bodhi in Wan Yai Sibdistrict, Mukdahan. An interesting group of diverse murals is also found in That Phanom District, Nakhon Phanom province. They include Wat Pho Kham, Wat Buddha Sima, and Wat Hua Wiang Rangsi in Amphoe That Phanom, Nakhon Phanom Province (Pairote 1989). The murals at these three wats are significantly different from each other and from those in the Isan Heartland and are found only on the interior sim walls. At still another temple, Wat Pho Chai Na Pheung in Na Haew district, Loei province, the murals are not on the sim but on the wihan interior, primarily on the interior walls with a few on the exterior (http://isan.tiewrussia.com/wat_phochai_napuang/). This wihan is stylistically similar to those in the Luang Prabang area, just across the river. 8 Unfortunately, the roof at Wat Chaisi was replaced by a tall, narrow Central style roof. 9 The story is known by several names including Sang Silpa Chai, Sang Sinchai and others. There are numerous versions or “tellings” of the story in various languages. 10 This was the opinion of Maha Sila Viravong, “the most respected and authoritative scholar of Lao history and culture.” The other two masterpieces, according to Maha Sila, are the Vessantara Jātaka and Thao Hung Thao Cheuang. See Chamberlain (1989-90). 7

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Figure 1. Wat Chaisi, Sawatthi Village, Khon Kaen (all photos by the author) Figure 2. Wat Chaisi, north wall with false windows, scene from Sinsai

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Figure 3. Wat Chaisi, left side of entryway, hell scenes and descriptions Figure 4. Wat Chaisi, hell scenes

nagas (mythical Southeast Asian water serpents), and giants, many of whom have supernatural powers, such as the ability to fly, shape-shift, and regenerate new heads when decapitated during battle. Sinsai himself is endowed with super-human archery skills and the ability to communicate with the huge mythical birds (Lao: khrut, or garudas) that come to his help. In addition to being an adventure story, Sinsai is filled with Buddhist teachings and Thai/Lao values such as non-attachment, karma, sacrifice, harmony, unity, and gratitude to parents that the hero expounds throughout the narrative. Moreover, the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Figure 5. Wat Photharam, south wall; life in the Isan countryside goes on as usual during the dramatic scenes from the Life of the Buddha. Figure 6. Wat Photharam, north wall

most famous versions 11 follow the typical jātaka format of a story that is narrated by the Buddha about a past life ending with a final passage in which all of the story’s characters are identified with persons in the Buddha’s present life.12 Some versions of the story state that it is a Jātaka, a story of one of the previous lives of the Buddha. In fact, these versions include a passage identifying every character with a personage in the life of the Buddha, just as the Jātakas do. However, the story is not found in either the canonical or local collections of such birth stories. 12 While the story resembles the Southeast Asian non-canonical Fifty Jātakas, it is not found in any of the collections of these stories, of which there are several. 11

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Figure 7. Wat Sa Bua Kaew, east wall, left of door, detail of mural of Phra Lak Phra Lam mural

Sinsai is depicted on murals at several other temples in the region, all of which differ in the specific scenes represented, as well as in craftsmanship, and conception.13 Those at Wat Chaisi lack the fine line drawing of murals at Wat Photharam in Maha Sarakham (Figure 6) and Wat Sa Bua Kaew (Figure 7) in Nong Song Hong district, Khon Kaen.14 Yet Wat Chaisi’s murals are among the most memorable because of their explosive energy and idiosyncratic composition. In addition they are the best known in the region because of the temple’s frequent activities.

History As related in a booklet assembled by the abbot (Bunchayakorn n.d.), Wat Chaisi was founded in 1900 and, as was often the case, the sim was built later, in 1922, and the murals were painted after its completion. The wat flourished under the first two abbots, but after the death of the second one in 1960 there were no monks in residence on a regular basis and Wat Chaisi experienced a series of problems. Many old objects were lost as there was no one to look after them and the wat’s position as a place of knowledge and a spiritual center for the community was in a state of crisis. It was not until 1989, when Phra Khru Bunchayakorn, the current abbot, came to Wat Chaisi that the situation improved. A Sawatthi village native, Phra Khru See Figures 1, 2, and 3. Yet at Wat Sa Bua Kaew and Wat Photharam not all murals are of equal quality but are the work of more than one artist of differing skills. 13 14

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Bunchayakorn was born in 1962 and moved with his family when he was a young child to a village in Nong Khai province, some 170 kilometers away. After completing a course of study in Bangkok at the Ministry of Agriculture and Cooperatives, in 1989 he ordained at a wat in Nakhon Phanom. Shortly afterward, the villagers in Sawatthi invited him to preside at Wat Chaisi. Only twenty-seven at the time, he made an effort to learn as much about the wat, its history, and the murals by talking to village elders. He learned about the wat’s illustrious past under its founding abbot, who had designed the remarkable sim, which was then in need of repair. Rather than replacing the sim with a new one, as so often happens, he set out to repair the old one and use the murals as a focal point for the wat’s restoration both as a place and as a community. Like many others of his generation, he had heard the Sinsai story when he was a child, but was not familiar with the many details of this complex epic. He gradually learned to identify scenes in the murals with events in the narrative by talking with villagers as well as with Khon Kaen University professors familiar with local Lao Buddhist literature. Under his leadership, more and more people were able to identify the scenes depicted in the murals. Eventually the Sinsai theme became a symbol for the community and the villagers decided to rename their streets with names of characters and places from the story. He also directed the writing of the booklet mentioned earlier (Bunchayakorn n.d.) that includes a summary of the Sinsai story, a list of the traditional twelve-month Lao merit-making festivals (heet sipsong),15 and the history of Sawatthi village and the wat. According to the booklet, Sawatthi was established in 1794, when the area was still covered with forest.16 Its founding is connected to an incident in which a runaway elephant determined the site where the village would be built. Elephants play auspicious roles in many Buddhist stories and historical chronicles, and the site is described as having traces of an earlier glorious culture. In fact, it is highly likely that the village is the site of a city dating back to the Dvaravati civilization that flourished from the 6th to the 13th centuries in several parts of Thailand. Archaeological remains connected to Dvaravati in Isan include tall sandstone boundary markers known as bai sema, one of which is housed at Wat Chaisi along with fragments of others which were found by villagers working in their paddy fields some years ago. Much of this information about local history is known among the villagers and it contributes to their sense of pride in their community. For a description of the traditions, see: http://isaan-life.blogspot.com/2011/11/12-traditions-heetsipsong-month-1-in.html. 16 According to the booklet, one day three men from a nearby village brought their elephants to feed in the forest, but one of the elephants went into musth (a frenzied state when hormones are at a high level during mating season) and fled. They pursued him, but were astonished to find him standing quietly on a hilltop, no longer in musth. As they looked over the surrounding area, they noticed traces of a moat, several ponds, wat buildings, pieces of broken pottery, and the remains of a kiln, indicating that an ancient city must once have existed there. The men returned home to tell others and many of them moved there, believing that it had once been a glorious place. 15

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The objects are all housed at the wat’s modest local culture museum along with a collection of pottery, traditional village implements for farming and harvesting, and other miscellanea. The wat also has a simple assembly hall, or ho jek, made of bamboo where religious and educational activities as well as seminars are held. To keep the Sinsai story alive among the younger generations, the abbot has organized regular weekend sessions and camps where youths can choose to learn to decipher the murals, make copies of the paintings, and learn to perform the story in moh lam (folk opera) and shadow play.17 The activities are completely voluntary as Phra Khru Bunchayakorn wants to reach those who are truly interested rather than compelling anyone to attend. The abbot sees Sinsai as a story that teaches ethics, morals, ancient history, government, and concepts of war and peace. Interest in the epic has spread to several faculties and administrative offices at Khon Kaen University, which has sponsored several conferences on the topic of Sinsai. Likewise, the students’ traditional Isan musical ensemble has incorporated Sinsai in its name (khana pong lang sinsai). Special activities held at Wat Chaisi in conjunction with Buddhist holidays are often attended by groups of teenagers from Laos. Groups of university students have visited the wat on their own to make videos of their visit.18 Wat Chaisi’s other regular activities include observing the traditional LaoIsan monthly festivals mentioned above, some of which are no longer practiced at many other wats, especially those in urban areas. One of these festivals, Bun Khao Jii (roasted sticky rice festival), held in February, is devoted to a weekend full of pursuits devoted to the Sinsai story. Daytime activities on Saturday include art workshops based on the murals and seminars led by academics from Khon Kaen’s three universities19 on topics related to historical, religious, and philosophical aspects of the epic. The evening is devoted to performances of parts of the story accompanied by bands playing modern versions of traditional music with guitars, keyboard, drums, etc. Participants include academics from the region, students, monks, villagers and Khon Kaen municipal officials. On early Sunday morning, long before daybreak, participants gather on the temple grounds sitting on mats by the light of the full moon to roast sticky rice balls over small charcoal stoves (Figure 10). At dawn they present the rice balls and other offerings to the monks who walk in procession receiving alms. In addition to coordinating such multi-community events, Phra Khru Bunchayakorn has been a resource for professors and doctoral students at three universities in Khon Kaen city who have done research on the Sinsai epic (see Chob 2007; Sowit 2010, 2012a, 2012b). He is a frequent participant in seminars on Lao literature organized by Khon Kaen University. In addition, he has also served as a key For an account of traditional Isan shadow play, see Brereton and Somoray (2007). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBxhFL98_iI 19 Along with Khon Kaen University, Mahachulalongkornrajavidyalaya University and Mahamakut Buddhist University have branches in Khon Kaen. 17 18

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Figure 8. Khon Kaen University art students use Wat Chaisi murals to inspire the creation of a cloth scroll painted with scenes from the Sinsai epic at the annual Sinsai Bun Khao Jii festival in February 2013. Figure 9. Sinsai on Khon Kaen street light

advisor to officials of the Khon Kaen municipal government, which in 2005 selected Sinsai as the city’s symbol.20 Phra Khru Bunchayakorn also serves as district representative to the Sangha (monkhood) council and has received awards for his contributions from Her Royal Highness Princess Sirindhorn, Khon Kaen University, Khon Kaen province, the Thai Ministry of Culture, and Khon Kaen Municipality. The sustainable preservation of Wat Chaisi’s murals in all likelihood would not have happened without him. However, it should be noted that the wat’s location—only twenty kilometers from Khon Kaen city with its three universities— is a key factor in the success of the abbot’s preservation efforts. It is convenient for professors, university students, Khon Kaen

In choosing the epic to represent Khon Kaen, the municipality erected in the busiest part of town 200 streetlight poles with figures of the story’s three heroes on the finials. 20

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Figure 10. Sawatthi villagers, students, Khon Kaen city residents, university professors and others attending the annual Bun Khao Jii festival stay up all night to watch Sinsai being performed in traditional and contemporary style while roasting glutinous rice balls which they will offer to the members of the wat Sangha at dawn

city officials, and visitors from Laos to visit. Moreover, the wat has benefited greatly from the avid interest of Khon Kaen municipal officials as the municipality has sponsored the publication of the books about Sinsai, mentioned above, all of which refer to Wat Chaisi. On the other hand, given the fate of so many small wats, it seems likely that without Phra Khru Bunchayakorn’s leadership, the sim would have fallen into complete ruin and been torn down. It was he, rather than local or national government officials, outside foundations, university professors, the Fine Arts Department, or the Tourism Authority of Thailand, who took the lead in recognizing the value of the murals and preserving them. Unfortunately, not all Isan wats from this group have had this kind of leadership, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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including three with superb murals that received generous financial support. In these cases, the impetus for conservation and preservation came, not from the local abbot and congregation, but from the outside. The first case is that of Wat Sa Bua Kaew in Amphoe Nong Song Hong, Khon Kaen province. In 1998, the Siam Society together with the Dutch ambassador and several Thai corporations donated a total of 2,705,000 baht after one of the Society’s members reported that the wat’s murals were being ruined by exposure to sun and rain. The wat had recently installed a new tall and narrow Central style roof that lacked the broad “bird wing” roof found on local sims for this purpose (Bilaibhan 2000: 201-2). Support was quickly marshaled, and the roof was replaced with one similar to the original. Upon its completion, a dedication ceremony was held, presided over by Princess Galyani Vadhana. As a result, the wat is well known and has received many visitors. However, it has never initiated any activities related to the subject matter of the murals with either villagers or outside groups. While the sim remained in good condition for several years, when the author visited it last year, it appeared neglected as the base was crumbling in several places and the area surrounding the building was overgrown with weeds. The other case involved a project initiated by the Office of Arts and Culture at Rajabhat Maha Sarakham University to promote education and preservation of murals at Wat Phottharam and Wat Pa Rerai. The wats are located a few kilometers from each other in Amphoe Na Dun, Maha Sarakham. The project received a grant of one million baht (approximately US$ 30,000) from the US Ambassadors Fund for Cultural Preservation. Speakers from the University and the Tourism Authority of Thailand presented lectures to teachers, local government officials, elementary school students, local weavers, and other local groups. Some villagers were initially wary of committing to a project initiated by university lecturers because of negative experiences they had experienced in the past. Students were taught how to draw pictures of scenes in the murals and to act as guides. A local shadow puppet troupe was engaged to perform and teach children how to make puppets and perform the stories seen in the murals. Weavers were encouraged to incorporate motifs from the murals into their textile patterns. In the end, an official ceremony involving all parties, including US Embassy staff, was held in which certificates were handed out to all the participants (Office of Arts and Culture 2008). However, after the funds were exhausted, the activities ceased.

Wat Chaisi as a model of sustainable preservation The case of Wat Chaisi’s success suggests that for local conservation of temple buildings to be sustainable, several conditions need to be present. The first is an abbot who realizes the value of cultural objects and takes an active leadership role in organizing regular activities at the temple to preserve it. Here, it was the abbot, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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rather than government officials or outside organizations who took the initiative in preserving the murals. Moreover, he not only preserved them but also used them as living resources in his teachings about Buddhism. At Wat Chaisi it is the sim and the murals – rather than a glitzy new assembly hall or colossal new statues – that comprise the focal point of temple activities. The second factor is the role of the university professors and Khon Kaen municipal administrators. After having been attracted to the abbot’s work, they began collaborating in regular activities that have benefited all parties. Academics are drawn to both the abbot and the murals as rare examples of cultural resources. At the same time, the villagers of Sawatthi feel both honored and empowered by the interest in their temple and community by academics and Khon Kaen city officials. The third factor is the scheduling of regular activities, such as the annual Bun Khao Jii festival, and relating them to the murals, as Wat Chaisi has done in conjunction with professors from Khon Kaen. The predictability of such events keeps them alive in people’s memories and creates an element of anticipation so that people are apt to return each year. At the same time, people who attend the event are reminded of the murals and their significance in terms of local culture. The fourth factor is regular communication between the abbot and all of Wat Chaisi’s stakeholders, including the villagers of Sawatthi, local government administrators, university professors, and Khon Kaen municipality officials. The abbot consults with villagers and local government officials in determining suitable dates for the monthly merit-making festivals. Wat Chaisi also has a website21 and a Facebook page, the latter being managed by a teacher at the local secondary school in Sawatthi. The page regularly posts photos of recent events like the monthly meritmaking festivals and visits by student groups from Khon Kaen University and nearby secondary schools. Social media is increasingly becoming the way to communicate quickly and easily, and it is the preferred method of younger generations, who are essential for sustainable preservation.

Recommendations The sustained participation of the temple, university members, and Khon Kaen municipality in promoting cultural preservation at Wat Chaisi is rare in Thailand. All stakeholders have benefited from the work initiated by Phra Khru Bunchayakorn and supported by academics and Khon Kaen city officials who were inspired by his example. Ideally, this partnership could serve as a model for others to follow. There are, however, some obstacles to such a partnership at the other wats mentioned in this paper. The most obvious one is that many abbots do not share Phra Khru Bunchayakorn’s interest in cultural preservation. The other obstacle is that of 21

https://sites.google.com/site/watchaisri/home/prawati-wad-chiy-sri-2. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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distance. The three wats that received generous financial support for preservation do not enjoy Wat Chaisi’s proximity to urban centers and universities; thus regular contact of the kind that has helped sustain Wat Chaisi’s cultural activities requires a much greater commitment in terms of the time spent traveling. To be specific, Wat Sa Bua Kaew, while in Khon Kaen province, is about 100 kilometers from the capital. Wat Phottharam and Wat Pa Rerai are about 135 kilometers from Khon Kaen city and 40 kilometers from Maha Sarakham city, which is much less prosperous than Khon Kaen. On the other hand, provincial boundaries are less significant than the fact that most of the academics, abbots, government officials, and performers in the two provinces already know each other and have worked together on other projects. Consequently, the author recommends that for the purpose of mutual sharing of information, resources, and encouragement, a consortium be created, composed of abbots of the wats involved and academics in Khon Kaen and Maha Sarakham. The consortium would be led by small panel of respected persons like Phra Khru Bunchayakorn, who is well known and highly regarded in the region, and several senior university professors who are Isan natives and who have spent considerable time in the monkhood.22 Such individuals are likely to have the respect of the other abbots and could exert some influence on them. Wat Chaisi would serve as a model to follow, but with sufficient flexibility for each participating wat community to choose the activities it would adopt. Academics and local government officials in Maha Sarakham province would be encouraged to form sustainable partnerships with abbots of the wats with murals or to strengthen existing relationships. The consortium would encourage abbots to adopt some of the practices initiated by Wat Chaisi, such as learning to identify the scenes in the murals, holding regular informal youth camps, and organizing an annual festival based on the theme of its murals. The festival should be aimed at including a broad base of stakeholders from diverse economic and social groups: villagers, professors, teachers, students of all ages, local government agencies, youth groups, etc. Activities would be similar to those during the Bun Khao Jii festival, such as discussions of the stories depicted, comparisons of the murals, and performance of the stories. Villagers would be encouraged, but not compelled to attend and would be attracted by the opportunity to take part in entertainment and merit-making. Forums like this, it is hoped, would stimulate the sharing of knowledge about the murals and promote their preservation and protection. They could potentially lead to a greater sense of identity with, and shared pride in, local Isan/Lao culture.

Two such highly respected academics, Udom Buasri and Chob Disuankok, are retired Khon Kaen University faculty members who are still actively teaching and writing. Both were members of the Sangha for over ten years and have studied Buddhist philosophy in India. 22

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References Bilaibhan Sampatisiri. 2000. “Dedication of the Ubosot at Wat Sra Bua Kaeo.” JSS 88: 201-2. Brereton, Bonnie Pacala and Somroay Yencheuy. 2010. Buddhist Murals of Northeast Thailand: Reflections of the Isan Heartland. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Brereton, Bonnie Pacala and Somroay Yencheuy. 2007. “Traditional Shadow Theater of Northeastern Thailand (Nang Pramo Thai): Hardy Transplant or Endangered Species,” Aseanie 19 (June): 130-143. Brereton, Bonnie Pacala. 1995. Thai Tellings of Phra Malai: Texts and Rituals concerning a Popular Buddhist Saint. Tempe, AZ: Arizona State University, Program for Southeast Asian Studies. Bunchayakorn, Phra Khru. ed. n.d. Ruang raw wat chaisi chumchon sawathi hup taem sinsai ban sawathi tambon sawathi amphoe muang changwat khon kaen [The story of Wat Chaisi, the People of Sawathi, and Sinsai Murals in Sawathi Village, Sawathi Subdistrict, Muang District, Khon Kaen Province]. Burin Plangdeesakul. 2011. “Phattanakan khong chitrakamfaphanang isan korani sueksa changwat khonkaen changwat mahasarakham lae changwat roi et” [Development of Isan Mural Painting: A Case Study of Khon Kaen, Mahasarakham, and Roi-et Provinces]. Journal of Fine and Applied Arts (Khon Kaen University) 3, 1: 84-113. Chamberlain, James. 1989-1990. “Thao Hung or Cheuang: A Tai Epic Poem.” MonKhmer Studies 18-19: 14-34. At http://sealang.net/sala/archives/pdf8/chamberlain1989-1990thao.pdf (accessed April 4, 2015). Chob Disuankok. 2007. Wannakam Pheun Ban Sin Sai [Sinsai as a Work of Local Literature]. Khon Kaen: Samnak kansueksa Thesaban Nakhon Khon Kaen. Fuller, Thomas. 2012. “Monks Lose Relevance as Thailand Grows Richer.” New York Times, December 18, 2012. At http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/19/world/ asia/thai-buddhist-monks-struggle-to-stay-relevant.html?pagewanted=2&_ r=0 (accessed July 26, 2014). Hacker, Tiffany. 2011. “Of Muscular Gods and Tattooed Men: Transformations in Thai Mural Painting.” MA thesis. Singapore: National University, Singapore. Intarachai Panichakul. 2015. “Forest Abbot Warns Sangha Reform Urgent,” Bangkok Post, March 18. At http://www.bangkokpost.com/opinion/opinion/495134/forestabbot-warns-sangha-reform-urgent (accessed April 4, 2015). Kanana Katharangsiporn. 2015. “Provincial glut: Demand is waning for condos after the 2012-13 boom.” Bangkok Post, 9 February. At http://www.bangkokJournal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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post.com/property/technique/470002/provincial-glut (accessed April 4, 2015). Office of Arts and Culture of Rajabhat Maha Sarakham University. 2008. The Conservation of Mural Paintings (Hoop-Tam) in Maha Sarakham Province (Northeast Thailand). Maha Sarakham: Sarakham Printing. Pairote Samosorn. 1989. Chitrakam fa phanang isan [Isan Mural Paintings]. Khon Kaen: Khon Kaen University E-sarn Cultural Center. Pattana Kitiarsa. 2012. Mediums, Monks, and Amulets: Thai Popular Buddhism Today. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Polson, Ivan. 2012. “The Art of Dissent: The Wall Paintings at Wat Thung Sri Muang in Ubon Ratchathani.” The Journal of Lao Studies 3, 1: 91-127. At https:// www.laostudies.org/system/files/subscription/JLS-v3-i1-Oct2012-polson.pdf (accessed April 4, 2015). Sasithorn Ongdee. 2014. “Transport mega-projects set to stimulate urbanization nationwide. The Nation, December 26. At http://www.nationmultimedia.com/ business/Transport-mega-projects-set-to-stimulate-urbanisat-30250678.html (accessed April 4, 2015). Sattayanurak, Saichol. n.d.. The Construction of Mainstream Thought on “Thainess” and the “Truth” Constructed by “Thainess”. Translated by Sarinee Achavanuntakul. At http://www.fringer.org/wp-content/writings/thainess-eng.pdf (accessed April 4, 2015). Somluck Srimalee. 2013. “Property prices in Khon Kaen, Udon soar.” The Nation. December 23. http://www.nationmultimedia.com/business/Property-prices-in-KhonKaen-Udon-soar-30222697.html (accessed April 4, 2015).

Somroay Yencheuy. 2010. “Ramayana lai nai citrakam fa phanang isan ton klang” [The Lao Ramayana in Central Isan Murals). Journal of Fine and Applied Arts (Khon Kaen University) 2, 1: 27-52. Sowit Bamrungphan. 2010. Sinsai: Khai ruang lao chak adit thyng pachuban [Sinsai: Drom oral telling in the past to the present]. Khon Kaen: Phen Printing. ____. 2012a. Huup taem: taem cai yawachon khon khon kaen [Hup taem: favorite of Khon Kaen youth]. Khon Kaen: Thesaban Nakhon Khon Kaen. ____. 2012b. Khunnatham thi sanue phan tua lakhon nai wannakan ruang sinsai [Morality expressed in the drama of the Sinsai story]. Khon Kaen: Thesaban Nakhon Khon Kaen. Stent, James. 2010. “Siam’s Threatened Cultural Heritage.” JSS 100: 1-12. Sumali Ekachonniyom. 2006. Hup taem nai sim isan. Ngan sin song fang khong. Bangkok: Mathichon Books. Wiroj Srisuro. 2003. “Isan Sims: Ordination Halls in Northeast Thailand.” In The Buddhist Monastery: A Cross-cultural Survey, ed. Pierre Pichard and François Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Lagirarde, Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books: 131-48. ____. 1993. Sim Isan. Isan Sim: Northeast Buddhist Holy Temples [in Thai], Bangkok: Toyota Foundation, Maeka Press. Websites: https://sites.google.com/site/watchaisri/home/prawati-wad-chiy-sri-2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBxhFL98_iI (student video) http://www.siam-society.org/heritage/watsrabua.html

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Integrating the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu: The Archaeology and Art History of a Forgotten Image1 Paul A. Lavy and Wesley Clarke Abstract—This paper situates the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu, a lesser-known Dvāravatī sculpture from western Thailand, in its archaeological and art historical context in order to demonstrate 7th to 8th century artistic and political connections across mainland Southeast Asia. The circumstances of the Viṣṇu’s rediscovery in the early 1950s, as well as its subsequent “restoration” and preservation at Wat Dong Sak, are examined through reappraisal of documentary evidence, new field reconnaissance, interviews of local residents, and systematic examination of the sculpture itself. Detailed stylistic analysis and conjectural reconstruction of the sculpture’s original appearance place the image within the broader development of the mitred Viṣṇu iconographic type known from sites throughout Southeast Asia. With particular emphasis on the details of the headdress and garment, specific comparisons are made to related sculpture from Thailand, Arakan (Myanmar), Preangkorian Cambodia, and the Cham civilization of Vietnam. The Phong Tuek Viṣṇu’s idiosyncratic features and geographically dispersed stylistic relationships suggest a probable early 8th century date following the mid-to-late 7th century expansion of Khmer elites out of the Kampong Thom area of Cambodia. The Phong Tuek Viṣṇu, therefore, provides valuable testimony of a particularly intense period of interactions spanning mainland Southeast Asia from Arakan in the west to central Vietnam in the east.

Introduction Among the overlooked examples of Dvāravatī sculpture is a statue of Viṣṇu (Figure 1) from the site of Phong Tuek in what is today southern Kanchanaburi province, Thailand (see map, Figure 2). In spite of its relatively large size and quality, it has been completely ignored in the scholarly literature since it was uncovered in Portions of this essay were presented as “The P’ong Tuk Viṣṇu: Re-Integrating an Early ‘Aberrant’ Image from Thailand” at the 20th Indo-Pacific Prehistory Association Congress, Siem Reap, Cambodia, January 13, 2014. A variety of other transliterations of “Phong Tuek” have been used in scholarly publications (e.g., P’ong Tuk, P’ong Tük, Bang Tœk, Phong Dük, Phong Tuk, Pong Tük). Thai transliterations in this paper generally follow the modern conventions adopted by the Royal Institute of Thailand.

1

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the early 1950s. Lack of attention to the Viṣṇu has limited understanding of Phong Tuek’s role as a ritual, political, and perhaps artistic center, and it has contributed to the longstanding misperception that Phong Tuek was exclusively Buddhist in religious orientation. That view stems from the primary archaeological excavations undertaken at the site, first by George Cœdès and subsequently by H. G. Quaritch Wales. Discovery of the Viṣṇu should have changed these early perceptions, but it did not. The present essay aims to provide a detailed description, historical contextualization, and a thorough stylistic study of this important ritual image. It is based on formal visual analysis, as well as new information and documentation acquired onsite and through interviews of residents and monks connected with the initial recovery of the Viṣṇu and its subsequent restoration and installation at Wat Dong Sak in the modern town of Phong Tuek. We argue here that (1) the occurrence of a substantial Brahmanical object places Phong Tuek among several important Dvāravatī sites that contain both Buddhist and Brahmanical material; and (2) that the stylistic affiliations of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu indicate distant relationships and transregional artistic connections related to the expansion of Khmer power and cultural influence during the mid-to-late 7th century.

The Phong Tuek site The high terrace of the Phong Tuek subdistrict (Tha Maka district), occupying the western bank of the Mae Klong River in southern Kanchanaburi province, has retained much of the rural character that existed during the archaeological investigations of French scholar George Cœdès in 1927 and the English antiquarian H. G. Quaritch Wales in 1936 (Figure 3).2 Banana groves and fields of sugar cane, corn, and chilies continue to predominate, and local residents still encounter ancient artifacts, turned up as they cultivate the land. Random finds such as these first drew the attention of Cœdès, as reports of Buddha figures in very old styles and other unusual items filtered back to his post as General Secretary of the Royal Institute of Siam in Bangkok. Excavations subsequently undertaken in 1927 focused on the most productive villager find-spots and several low mounds of structural rubble, but this fieldwork ceased after less than four months (Cœdès 1928a and 1928b). In January 1936, while waiting for the end of unseasonably late rains to gain passage to the still virtually unexplored site of Si Thep in Phetchabun province, Quaritch Wales spent two weeks at Phong Tuek. His excavations focused on several rubble-mounds left unexplored by Cœdès (Quaritch Wales 1936, 1937a, 1937b). Both of these brief investigations uncovered well-preserved foundations of brick and laterite architecture, and collected Buddha sculptures in various sizes and materials, 2

At the time of the earliest investigation in 1927, Phong Tuek was in Ratburi (Ratchaburi) province. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Figure 1. Viṣṇu, found in Phong Tuek, Kanchanaburi province, Thailand, ca. early 8th cent. CE, stone with modern cement additions, H. 80 cm. (without pedestal), currently resides at Wat Dong Sak, Phong Tuek. Photograph by Wesley Clarke.

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Figure 2. Map with locations mentioned in the text. Courtesy of Matthew D. Gallon. Figure 3. Google Earth satellite image of the Phong Tuek area (map data: Google and DigitalGlobe). Locations are approximate. Prepared by Wesley Clarke and Paul Lavy.

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so-called votive tablets and other ritual objects, decorative stucco and terracotta, and a few categories of domestic items. Quaritch Wales also uncovered a series of inhumation burials which, unfortunately, received only cursory attention during evaluation of the site assemblage (Clarke 2014). As key early enunciators of the Dvāravatī phenomenon, Cœdès and Quaritch Wales drew extensively from the discoveries at Phong Tuek, in combination with other archaeological and textual sources, to describe an early historic, predominantly Buddhist culture that reflected significant ideational and material interaction with South Asia in the early to middle centuries of the 1st millennium CE. Indeed, Phong Tuek was long considered to be the earliest known Dvāravatī settlement (e.g., Le May 2004 [1938]: 15; Briggs 1945: 99-100). Two objects attributed to the early 1st millennium by Cœdès—a small bronze Buddha said to be in the Amarāvatī style of ca. 2nd century CE, and a so-called “Greco-Roman” metal lamp said to derive from the 1st-2nd centuries CE—were taken as evidence that the Phong Tuek occupation commenced early in the millennium (Cœdès 1928a: 203-207, pls. 17 and 19). Subsequent reanalysis of these objects, however, has convincingly placed them in later periods more congruent with the other ritual objects from the site. The lamp is likely of early Byzantine origin, ca. 5th-6th century CE (Brown and Macdonnell 1989: 10-12; Borell 2008a: 168-169 and 2008b: 1-26).3 The current state of evidence probably best supports an 8th century date for the Buddha (Griswold 1966: 71-73, fig. 31).4 Approximately contemporary, or perhaps slightly later, are four additional bronze Buddha images found at Phong Tuek. Cœdès dated them to the 6th century (Cœdès 1928a: 202, pls. 15, 16-right), but they probably date to the 8th or 9th century (Griswold 1966: 71; Quaritch Wales 1969: 65; Boisselier 1975: 69, 76).5 These later dates accord well with the early 8th-century date that will be advanced here for the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu.

Rediscovery of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu A comprehensive reevaluation of these previous investigations at Phong Tuek, combined with new information developed by a field reconnaissance in 2008, has recently been completed by Clarke (2011). This review was enhanced by the “rediscovery” of Quaritch Wales’ field notes at the Royal Asiatic Society archives in The Phong Tuek lamp (L. 29.5 cm., H. 26.7 cm) is housed in the Bangkok National Museum (inv. no. TP.1). It is usually identified as bronze, but Borell (2008b: 3, n. 7) raises the possibility that it may be made of brass. 4 Griswold (1966: 71-73) argued that the Phong Tuek Buddha (H. variably listed as 20.5 cm. and 25 cm.) today in the Bangkok National Museum (inv. no. DV.41), is “a Dvāravatī copy of a Pāla model, most likely a Nālandā bronze” and thus dates to the second half of the 8th century. Over the years, a variety of other dates and stylistic associations have been advanced by scholars; several of these are noted by Griswold. See also Dupont 1959: 112, 170. 5 Two of them are published in Dupont 1959: 217, 223, figs. 453, 460. 3

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London, which provided substantial new information regarding the 1936 excavations.6 New data generated in 2008 for Phong Tuek’s site morphology and content included details regarding the Viṣṇu figure uncovered during roadway improvement in the early 1950s.7 Residents and monks connected with the recovery, restoration and curation of this figure were interviewed, and detailed observations of the figure’s stylistic and iconographic elements were recorded. Only minimal information on the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu had been previously published (Subhadradis 1962: 109; FAD 1993: 22), and a preliminary description of this significant Brahmanical image was undertaken after the 2008 reconnaissance (Clarke 2009, 2011). None of the remains described for Phong Tuek by Cœdès or Quaritch Wales were ascribed to a Brahmanical, non-Buddhist component, and the site has been characterized since those investigations as exclusively Buddhist in character. The discovery of the Viṣṇu image should have changed this perception, particularly since the image in question is a relatively major piece in both size and quality of execution.8 Moreover, among the laterite foundational remains at the Phong Tuek site of “Ban Nai Ma” (“Nai Ma’s house”), there appears to have been a large stone pedestal (Dupont 1959: 109), either for a Śiva liṅga or an image, and possibly therefore a yonī or snānadroṇī (lustration receptacle); although a plan and photograph were published by Cœdès (1928a, pls. 2-3), he mentioned this object only briefly in his text. Also worth mentioning in the context of substantial Brahmanical remains is a large, but poorly preserved, ca. 7th-8th century sculpture of Śiva found at Wat Khao Luea in the Mueang district of Ratchaburi province, which is less than 60 km. south of Phong Tuek (Baptiste and Zéphir 2009: 192, fig. 1).9 Both Śiva and Viṣṇu were, therefore, worshipped in western Thailand, and the occurrence of a large Viṣṇu sculpture at Phong Tuek places the site among several additional Dvāravatī sites that contain both Buddhist and Brahmanical material.10 The very notion of These materials, along with a few items of furniture, were donated by Quaritch Wales’ widow, Dorothy C. Wales (Royal Asiatic Society 1995: 169-170; Guy 1995: 91-92). 7 This general date of discovery is based on the statement by Subhadradis Diskul (1962: 109): “About 10 years ago, when the cart-track in Tambol Pong Tuk was replaced by a road, a stone image of Vishnu . . . was discovered.” 8 The current height of the image, from the reconstructed feet to the top of the headpiece, is approximately 80 cm. 9 Carved in relief out of limestone or schist, the surviving portion of the Śiva sculpture measures 1.14 m. in height. It is now housed in the Ratchaburi National Museum. 10 Large Dvāravatī or Dvāravatī-related sites that have produced both Brahmanical and Buddhist material include Mueang Si Mahosot (also known as Dong Si Maha Phot or Dong Si Maha Pho) and Mueang Phra Rot in eastern Thailand; Khu Bua in western Thailand; U Thong and Nakhon Pathom in central Thailand; Si Thep to the northeast; and Chaiya on the Thai Peninsula (cf. Brown 1996: 48, 56-61). For example, the moated and walled center at U Thong in north-central Thailand has been described as “preponderantly Buddhist” in its content (Quaritch Wales 1969: 12), but also found there and in the vicinity have been Dvāravatī-era liṅgas and Viṣṇu sculptures. These Viṣṇu images are today dispersed and in circumstances that make them difficult to study (Lunet de Lajonquière 1909: 224-225, figs. 19-20; Arunsak, Wasan, and Phattaraphong 2002: 6

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Figure 4. Detail of Viṣṇu (Figure 1), found in Phong Tuek, Kanchanaburi province, Thailand. The areas within the circles and beneath the lines may have been subject to substantial alteration with cement. Photograph by Wesley Clarke.

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Figure 5. Conjectural “restoration” of Viṣṇu (Figure 1), found in Phong Tuek, Kanchanaburi province, Thailand. Photograph by Wesley Clarke.

Figure 6. A king (?) prostrates himself in front of a statue of Viṣṇu, inner south gallery, Bayon, Angkor Thom, Siem Reap province, Cambodia, ca. late 12th-early 13th cent. CE, sandstone relief. Photograph by Paul Lavy.

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Figure 7. Viṣṇu, first observed in Ayutthaya, Thailand, but believed to have come from Wiang Sa district, Surat Thani province, Thailand, ca. late 6th-early 7th cent. CE, stone, H. 1.31 m., Bangkok National Museum, inv. no. KKH 13. Photograph by Paul Lavy.

Figure 8. Viṣṇu, found at Wat Tho, Ratchaburi province, Thailand, ca. 7th cent. CE, stone, H. 1.52 m., Bangkok National Museum, inv. no. KKH 7. Photograph by Paul Lavy.

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a religious dichotomy between Buddhism and Brahmanism is indeed misleading (Brown 1996: 48, 56-61; Revire: forthcoming). According to M.C. Subhadradis Diskul, the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu was discovered during road improvement “at 200 m[eters] east of San Chao” – the latter a so-called “vihāra” foundation excavated by Cœdès (Subhadradis 1962: 109).11 Because the improved roadway followed the northwest-southeast course of the earlier road, a distance of 200 meters southeast from the San Chao location appears to place the Viṣṇu find-spot in the vicinity of a small rubble-mound mapped by Cœdès but not explored by his team, nor by Quaritch Wales (Cœdès 1928a: pl. 1 compared with current satellite imagery in Figure 3). That the Viṣṇu image was actually located near the roadway to the southeast of San Chao, instead of at a location due east, was recently confirmed by local informants. During the 2008 field reconnaissance, two elderly residents of Phong Tuek provided information about the circumstances of the Viṣṇu discovery in the early 1950s, and identified the find location.12 They stated that the fragmented Viṣṇu was found while scraping for fill dirt to create the adjacent modern roadway embankment. The location of the find-spot, currently in an agricultural field, is approximately twelve meters west of the modern roadway centerline and 282 meters southeast of the San Chao structure. This distance is at substantial variance from the 200 meter distance given by Subhadradis, but the 1962 notation is presumed to be a general estimate. Both of the informants had strong personal recollections of this discovery and readily agreed on the specific location, so a reasonable confidence level is assigned to this information. The find-spot of the Viṣṇu image is in proximity to two potential structural sites, neither of which has been excavated. Approximately 117 meters to the northwest of the Viṣṇu find-spot (but east of the roadway) was the aforementioned small rubble-mound mapped by Cœdès but today seemingly subsumed by a private residential compound. In addition, the elderly informants recalled that, in the area immediately west of the Viṣṇu find-spot, many old (i.e., large) bricks used to be found. The presence of the mound to the northwest and bricks to the west suggests two possible candidates for a shrine where the Viṣṇu image may originally have been housed and hint at an architectural context that would be expected for a sculpture 75-76; Wannasarn 2013: 86-89, figs. 2.14-2.16). Carved in high relief on stelae, they continue to be important objects of devotion and are now obscured beneath heavy layers of gold foil (and plaster). Although Quaritch Wales (1946: 147, pl. XVII, right, and 1969: 23) was inclined to date them to the 9th century or earlier, it is impossible given their current condition to date them with any certainty or even to assess with any degree of certainty their style and iconography, which have likely been subject to comparatively recent alterations. 11 Ongoing research and archaeological investigations hint at the possibility that the “vihāra” may not be a Buddhist monastic structure after all (Indorf, Gudur, and Clarke 2014). 12 The Viṣṇu find-spot was recorded by handheld GPS in 2008, accuracy factor ± 4.3 meters, at latitude N13° 53.526’ longitude E99° 47.207’. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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of its size. In either case, the find-spot is significant as it places the image and its potentially affiliated architecture near an “old cart track” that intersects with the main roadway and adjacent to what may have been an ancient crossroads and therefore at a location with potential political and economic importance (Indorf, Gudur, and Clarke 2014).

Reassembling the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu The Viṣṇu has been preserved and is now presented, together with a nearly identical replica, at the local monastery, Wat Dong Sak, about 565 meters from its find-spot. It is mounted on a multi-tiered marble pedestal and given a place of prominence on the proper left of the central Buddha image in an old assembly hall. Steps have been taken to permanently anchor the image at its position in the shrine and attempts have been made to assure its security with a heavy and lockable retractable metal gate. During the 2008 visit to Phong Tuek, there was ample evidence of the image’s status as an active element in worship at Wat Dong Sak. Offerings of fresh flowers, fruit, incense and gilt leaf were regularly made, and visitation specifically to the Viṣṇu image by lay practitioners was observed. By May 2013 the situation had changed substantially. The Viṣṇu mounting and placement next to the large Buddha image continued, but activity in the old assembly hall appeared to have been greatly reduced, with many activities moving to other locations at the wat. Given its respectable size, the Viṣṇu was probably originally enshrined as the principal image of a small temple. While the circumstances of its contemporary placement and veneration may distantly echo its ancient ritual context, the appearance of the Viṣṇu is much altered from its original state. Today, it appears to be carved in high relief on a large flat stele. As the abbot reported to Subhadradis in the early 1960s, however, the image is actually “sculptured in the round” (1962: 109). Because it was uncovered in a fragmented condition, monks from Wat Dong Sak, including one of the 2008 informants, attempted to restore the sculpture as a free-standing image, but “the stone was too hard to drill” (ibid.).13 A cement back slab was then created by the monks to hold the refitted pieces together, thus embedding the three-dimensional statue in a cement matrix. It was also reported to Subhadradis that the “shoes” and the pedestal beneath the feet were newly created.14 Firsthand The type of stone on which the image was formed is unknown. The hardness noted by the abbot may suggest a material other than the “blue limestone” used on many Dvāravatī images, including some other items documented at Phong Tuek. 14 The pedestal of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu, approximately 13 cm. in height, is a small rectangular form with what appear to be crude floral motifs in a recessed panel on the front. Both the slippers and the pedestal are incongruent with the style of the original image. A similarly shaped miniature replica of a slipper, made of gold inlaid with precious stones, was reportedly found among the ritual deposits in the crypt of the main tower at Wat Ratchaburana, Ayutthaya, and probably dates to the 15th century (Prathum 1987: 26-27; Fontein 1996: 73, 83, no. 38; Chiraphon 2007: 72, 157, 13

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investigation suggests, moreover, that a significantly larger portion of the figure probably consists of cement replacement, including the arch that joins the upper hands to the head, most of the long vertical element beneath the proper right hand, the garment and legs of the figure from approximately mid-thigh level down, and the lower half of the mace upon which the lower proper left hand rests (Figure 4). It also appears that, in the process of reattachment, the lower proper left forearm may have been unnaturally elongated and modified by being turned so that the fingers resting on the pommel of the mace are oriented away from the body and towards the figure’s left, rather than forward, as would likely have been the case in its original state. There are instances of Viṣṇu images with such an out-turned hand-on-mace position, including small-scale images embossed on gold sheets, perhaps most famously from Si Thep, and stone Viṣṇus from Myanmar (Figures 15 and 16; see discussion below).15 However, no significant stone or bronze sculptures from Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, or Vietnam with this hand-on-mace position are known to the authors. A turning of the hand may have been necessitated by the absence of the original base and the inability to restore the image to the degree of forward projection that it originally had. As this discussion demonstrates, the manner in which the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu was reassembled using cement, as well as the recent accretions of gold leaf, complicate art historical analysis and obscure several key aspects of the sculpture. Any attempt to discern its “original” appearance must proceed with caution and the recognition that perhaps only technical analysis may resolve some of the questions that surround the image and its present configuration. It is, nevertheless, possible to propose a hypothetical reconstruction (Figure 5) of the image and to trace with some precision its rather unusual stylistic features and their far-flung relationships. no. 14). Today it is in the Chao Sam Phraya National Museum (inv. no. K.S.K.26). The Viṣṇu’s added shoes appear to emulate the upturned royal slippers found on crowned and adorned Buddha images in Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia. Buddha images wearing slippers may have first appeared during the Ayutthaya and Post-Angkorian periods, but became common only in the late 18th-19th centuries (Giteau 1975: 195; Giteau 2001: 163-167, fig. 132; Somkiat 1997: 64, 69, 79, 81, 84-86, 92, 113-114, 141-143, 167-169, 202, 229, 233). 15 Embossed (or repoussé) gold sheets or plaques, associated with Si Thep and bearing depictions of Viṣṇu with an outward-turned lower proper left arm, include examples in the Norton Simon Museum (acc. no. F.1972.19.2.S, H. 30.2 cm.) and the Cleveland Museum of Art (acc. no. 1973.75, H. 7.6 cm.), both dating to ca. late 7th-early 8th century. For the former, see Dofflemyer 1982: 83-89, pl. 1; Pal 2004: 116-117, no. 84; Bunker and Latchford 2008: 17, fig. 3.4. For the latter, see Bunker and Latchford 2008: 29, fig. 3.17. A similar position of the lower left hand can be seen on a ca. 8th-9th century gold embossed Viṣṇu from the hamlet of Gemuruh, near Wonosobo in Central Java and now in the National Museum of Indonesia, Jakarta (inv. no. A31/486a, H. 34 cm.; see Brandes 1904: 556-563, 569-570, pl. 4; Fontein 1990: 206-207, no. 54). It is worth noting that the outwardturned left arm does not appear on all early Southeast Asian gold embossed Viṣṇu images. In those cases in which the details are legible, examples from Gò Tháp and Đá Nổi in southern Vietnam are portrayed with the arm oriented frontally in the manner of larger-scale sculpture (Lê 2005: fig. 5.9, 7.4; Lê 2008: 89, fig. 7, Lê 2011: 425-417, figs. 20.11-12). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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The mitred Viṣṇu image in Southeast Asia In spite of its idiosyncrasies, each discussed below, it is clear that the Phong Tuek image depicts Viṣṇu and belongs to a large corpus of Vaiṣṇava images from Southeast Asia that are generally characterized by a frontal standing position (sthānaka or samabhaṅga), four arms (caturbhuja), a bare torso, a garment wrapped around the waist, and a cylindrical mitred crown or headpiece (kirīṭamukuṭa or kirīṭamakuṭa). Proceeding clockwise from the lower proper right hand, the figure holds an earth orb (bhū, mahī, pṛthivī, or dhāraṇī), discus or wheel (cakra), conch (śaṅkha), and mace or club (gadā).16 A different configuration of these attributes characterized the earliest Southeast Asian Vaiṣṇava images, four sculptures from peninsular Thailand that date from ca. 500 CE to the early-to-mid 6th century (Lavy 2014). These sculptures are notable for holding the conch akimbo against the proper left hip, hence the designation “conch-on-hip” to refer to an image type that in Southeast Asia seems to have been exclusively early in date and limited in geographic range to peninsular (and possibly central) Thailand and to southern Cambodia and Vietnam. The latest of these Southeast Asian conch-on-hip images probably dates to the early 7th century. By contrast, while it may have appeared as early as the late 6th century CE, the arrangement of the four attributes seen on the Phong Tuek image occurred in many regions of Southeast Asia and, by the 7th century, became the standard iconography for Viṣṇu images in much of what are today Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and southern Vietnam. This iconography persisted for many centuries in Khmer art, perhaps as late as the 16th century. The same iconography occurs, for example, in several late 12th or early 13th century relief sculptures from the Bayon, including depictions of enshrined standing four-armed Viṣṇu statues equipped with the same configuration of four attributes (Figure 6). Art historians and archaeologists have long noted stylistic and iconographic relationships that spanned Southeast Asia, particularly the coastal areas, during the mid-to-late 1st millennium CE. Pierre-Yves Manguin (2010: 171) characterizes this phenomenon as “a pan-Southeast Asian response to South Asian input” while Robert Brown (1992: 49) suggests that there were not only extensive interactions taking place among early Southeast Asian polities, but that a few major Southeast Asian centers may have been responsible for the development and dissemination of early artistic styles within the region. Areas situated on or near the coast often participated in a “common vocabulary” of Brahmanical and Buddhist artistic forms (Albert Le Bonheur cited in Manguin 2010: 171). A notable component of this shared visual culture was the standing four-armed and mitred Viṣṇu image, which has been found widely dispersed in a “pan-Southeast Asian Vaiṣṇava network” that With a lotus (padma), rather than—or synonymous with—the orb, this configuration is identified in the Indian iconographical texts that enumerate the twenty-four forms of Viṣṇu as either Janārdana or Vāsudeva (Bidyabinod 1920: 23-33). 16

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included Arakan (now Rakhine state) in Myanmar; peninsular, western, central, eastern, and northeastern Thailand; southern Laos; various sites in Cambodia’s Siem Reap province; central Vietnam; the lower Mekong River delta area of Cambodia and Vietnam; and, in Indonesia, western Java, Bangka, and Bali (Dalsheimer and Manguin 1998: 87-110; Lavy 2003: 21-5 and 2004: 121-179; Indradjaya 2014: 116117).

Sculpting technique and composition Most early Southeast Asian Vaiṣṇava images, with the notable exception of some from Si Thep, rely on stone reserve elements that were intended, perhaps among other objectives, to provide supplementary structural support for the figures. Among these techniques are various degrees of relief carving, arches used to join the socle to the back of the posterior (elevated) arms and the back of the head, crosspieces linking the attributes held in the upper arms to the back of the head, and various types of vertical supports used to secure the attributes held in the lowered (waist-level) hands and/or to buttress the legs. On the proper left of Viṣṇu sculptures, vertical supports are incorporated into the iconography as Viṣṇu’s gadā, whereas between the legs and on the proper right, they are often disguised as drapery. Beginning with the work of Pierre Dupont, the types and configurations of these reinforcements have served as an important index for the classification and dating of early Southeast Asian sculpture.17 His guiding principle was that figural sculpture evolved from relief to carving in “ronde bosse” or what Philip Rawson has called “deep forward projection” and “projecting roundly far forward” (Rawson 1997: 67, 70).18 For Dupont (1955: 37-42), the history of Preangkorian sculpture was a series of attempts to transcend the constraints of relief carving, to “liberate” sculpture from its stone background, and to achieve sculpture “en ronde bosse.” The full realization of ronde bosse occurred accordingly during the 9th and 10th centuries when “the difficulties of equilibrium and size” were overcome and auxiliary supporting elements were completely eliminated (ibid.: 39-40). There is indeed a discernible trend, particularly among works associated with the 9th-early 10th century styles of Kulen and Preah Ko, in which artists seem to have progressively sought to minimize structural supports. Dupont’s emphasis on technique at the expense of other considerations has been criticized (Rawson 1957: 33-34; Boisselier 1966: 229-230; Lavy 2004: 208-211), but the idea of a general overall progression from relief to ronde bosse and/or sculpture-in-theDupont 1936: 97-106; 1941: 234; 1951: 136-137; 1955: 26, 33, 37-42, 128. According to Rawson (1997: 70), “ronde bosse” should be distinguished from relief and carving in full-round by the fact that while it is cut completely, or nearly completely, from its stone matrix and “stands separate,” it nevertheless retains “a pronounced frontal aspect, its receding side surfaces being exaggerated in length to lift the frontal presentation face far forward.” 17 18

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round remains a fundamental principle employed to understand the development of Southeast Asian stone sculpture.19 Due to the fragmentary condition of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu and the presence of the cement backing slab, the degree to which the figure was originally sculpted-in-the-round and the number and type(s) of auxiliary supports cannot be ascertained on visual evidence alone. Confusion over these features may also have led to hesitation in the “restoration” of the lateral, nearly vertical, elements beneath the figure’s lower hands. In the end, the monks left these forms incomplete and dangling awkwardly in space, rather than extending them all the way to the modern pedestal (Figure 4). The upper portions of the gadā and the lateral strut beneath the earth-ball seem to be original to the statue. Based on the appearance of the great majority of mitred Viṣṇu images from early Southeast Asia (e.g., Figures 7 and 8), it would be expected that these vertical elements would have extended to the base. However, in the absence of the original pedestal, and in light of the aforementioned suggestion that the position of the proper left arm has been modified, it cannot be certain that they did. The Viṣṇu from Sathing Phra presents an unusual example in which lateral elements apparently did not extend to the base and thus seem to have served no stabilizing or supporting function at all (Lavy 2004: 312).20 Unlike the tentative handling of the lateral vertical supports, the “restoration” of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu equipped it with a clearly delineated cement arch bridging the back of the head with the cakra and conch. To what extent this may correspond to the actual use of an arch or supporting cross-pieces in the original composition is unknown. While early Brahmanical stone sculpture in Thailand often includes the lateral and central vertical supports in association with the lower body, very few examples found in Thailand are equipped with arches or braces for the upper arms and head (e.g., Figure 8); one exception, not by the inclusion of braces but by virtue of being carved in high relief, is the Viṣṇu from Wieng Sa (Figure 7).21 Perhaps as a result, most stone Viṣṇus from Thailand have suffered the loss of their posterior (elevated) arms (Lavy 2004: 221-222, 263) (e.g., Figure 8). Illustrated Following Dupont, other scholars have to varying degrees and with some adjustments from study to study, adopted a similar methodology; see e.g., Boisselier 1955: 154-160; Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: 116-125; Dalsheimer and Manguin 1998: 92. 20 Regarding the Sathing Phra Viṣṇu (Songkhla National Museum, limestone [?], H. 75 cm.), Dupont (1941: 235, pl. XXX-B) and Boisselier (1959: 218; fig. 5) erroneously associated it with Dong Si Maha Phot. Like Dupont and Boisselier, O’Connor (1966: 138, 141, fig. 2 and 1972: fig. 18) and Piriya (2012: 106, fig. 1.104) date it to the 8th century. Various earlier dates have also been advocated: early 6th century (Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: 120, fig. 5), late 6th or early 7th century (Lavy 2004: 307-312, figs. 12-13), and ca. mid-7th century (Woodward 2005: 55). 21 Other exceptions include (1) the aforementioned Viṣṇu from Sathing Phra, (2) a small Viṣṇu from Ban Phang Kam (Nakhon Si Thammarat National Museum, H. 42 cm.; see Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: fig. 4), and (3) a late 7th-century sandstone Harihara head from the Mueang Phaniat area of Chanthaburi province (Prachin Buri National Museum; see Mollerup 2012: cover and 9-10). 19

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most impressively by the Viṣṇu of Takua Pa, this tendency to not secure the upper arms stands in dramatic contrast to four-armed Brahmanical-Buddhist sculptures of Preangkorian Cambodia and southern Vietnam, which often make extensive use of supporting elements for the upper arms, attributes, and head.22 The question thus remains as to whether the monks “restored” the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu with certain examples of Preangkorian sculpture in mind or, alternately, whether it was originally equipped with supporting elements that would tend to align it more closely to the Preangkorian sculpture of Cambodia and southern Vietnam than to the early sculpture of central, eastern, and peninsular Thailand. Irrespective of whether these elements were truly restored or newly created, many of the closest stylistic associations—for those portions of the image that are likely original to the piece—are with Preangkorian sculpture of the mid-to-late 7th and early 8th centuries. With its cement backing slab, the present-day appearance of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu superficially resembles the aforementioned high-relief Viṣṇu image associated with the Wiang Sa district of Surat Thani province in peninsular Thailand (Figure 7).23 Based on the preceding observations and caveats, however, we are in a position to use conjecture to strip away the modern accretions of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu and arrive at a better sense of how the image probably originally appeared as a figure carved fully in the round (Figure 5). The angle of the hips suggests that, unlike the stiff frontality of the Wieng Sa Viṣṇu, the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu probably stood with its weight slightly shifted to the proper left leg with the lower hands cut free from the hips but supported by vertical lateral braces joining the base. In other words, it likely stood in a manner similar to the early-to-mid 7th century Tuol Dai Buon Viṣṇu from Prei Veng province, Cambodia.24 While the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu may have shared the gentle hip-sway stance, The ca. mid-to-late 7th century Viṣṇu of Takua Pa (stone, H. 2.02 m.) was found on Khao Phra Noe, Takua Pa district, Phang-nga province, Thailand, and is today in the Bangkok National Museum; see O’Connor 1972: figs. 14a-c; Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: fig. 18. Among the notable contrasting examples from Cambodia and Vietnam with surviving arches to secure the upper arms and head are: (1) the eight-armed Viṣṇu from Phnom Da, Angkor Borei, Ta Keo province, Cambodia (National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, inv. no. Ka. 1639, sandstone, H. 2.7 m.); (2) the Viṣṇu from Tuy Hòa, Phú Yên province, Vietnam (National Museum of Vietnamese History, Hanoi, stone, H. 63 cm.); (3) a Harihara from Trapeang Phong, Siem Reap province, Cambodia (National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, inv. no. Ka. 951, sandstone, H. 99 cm.); and (4) the Viṣṇu from Chót Mạt, Tây Ninh province, Vietnam (Fine Arts Museum, Ho Chi Minh City, inv. no. BTMT 187, sandstone, H. 56 cm.). For illustrations of the first three, see Dupont 1955: pls. IIIA-B, IVA-B, XLI-A, and XLII-B. For the fourth, see Guy 2014: 140, cat. no. 67. 23 This stone sculpture (H. 1.31 m.), now displayed in the Bangkok National Museum, was first noted among the Chantharakasem Palace collections in Ayutthaya, but it is often said to have come from Wieng Sa (e.g., Lunet de Lajonquière 1909: 228-229; pl. III, fig. 9; Dupont 1941: 235-237 and n. 2, pl. XXXI-B; O’Connor 1972: 42, fig. 15; Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: 121 and n. 4, fig. 7; but cf. Piriya 2012: 103, fig. 1.98). 24 For the Tuol Dai Buon Viṣṇu (National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, inv. no. Ka 1597, sandstone, H. 1.83 m.), see Dupont 1955: pl. X-A, B; Dalsheimer 2001: 82-83, cat. no. 25. 22

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and possibly a similar system of structural support, with the Tuol Dai Buon Viṣṇu, the two images otherwise have little in common in terms of style. We must look elsewhere for the salient artistic relationships, which appear to have been distant and diverse. The most distinctive features of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu are the form of the mitre and the arrangement of the garment. Firsthand observation and available evidence suggests that they are, for the most part, original to the piece, and they can be traced with some precision. It is these features, moreover, that permit us to suggest a provisional date for the image.

The head and mitred headdress It is understood here that the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu wears a mitre (Figures 9 and 10), but there is also the less likely possibility that the headdress is a combination of a diadem and a highly stylized coiffeur (jaṭāmukuṭa) with the hair constricted in a sheath. Either way, the mitre does bear some resemblance to a bun-like hairstyle in which the hair was pulled back from the face and gathered into a tubular form held in place with tightly wound encircling braids. Hairstyles somewhat similar in shape to the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu’s mitre can be seen, for example, on approximately contemporary stucco reliefs from Khu Bua in Ratchaburi province (Figure 11). Additionally, numerous examples of Khu Bua sculpture exhibit a facial morphology that is closely comparable to the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu (compare Figures 9 and 11).25 Shared features include continuous and arching eyebrows, long and broad noses with pronounced nasal ridge, and similarly shaped eyes and lips. This formal consanguinity firmly connects the Viṣṇu to the Dvāravatī sculpture of western and central Thailand and hints at the possibility of common underlying ethnic points of reference, presumably Mon. It also demonstrates that, while the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu was clearly the product of numerous and often distant stylistic influences, it was also a locally embedded artistic expression and must have been carved in or near western Thailand, if not at Phong Tuek itself. The constricted hour-glass shape of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu’s mitre (Figures 9 and 10) has been likened to a lotus (FAD 1993: 22). Its form is also similar to other Viṣṇu mitres that have been characterized as “onion-shaped” (Guillon 2001: 165). Rather than the smoothly contoured cylindrical mitre characteristic of most early Viṣṇu images from Thailand and Cambodia (e.g., Figures 7 and 8), its mitre consists of a multi-tiered series of elements. Running across the forehead, from ear to ear, is a narrow band of striations indicating either a beaded fillet or, more likely, a strip of hair beneath the lip of the mitre. The wide lower edge of the mitre, raised in slight relief, is ornamented with three triangular florettes, or leaf-shaped forms, For additional examples from Khu Bua, see Baptiste and Zéphir 2009: 202-203, cat. nos. 93-94 and 206-207, cat. no. 103. We thank Nicolas Revire (personal communications) for drawing our attention to the stucco images from Khu Bua. 25

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Figure 9. Frontal detail of the head and mitre of Viṣṇu (Figure 1), found in Phong Tuek, Kanchanaburi province, Thailand. Photograph by Wesley Clarke.

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Figure 10. Oblique detail of the head and mitre of Viṣṇu (Figure 1), found in Phong Tuek, Kanchanaburi province, Thailand. Photograph by Wesley Clarke.

Figure 12. Head of Viṣṇu, Si Thep, Phetchabun province, Thailand, ca. late 7th-8th cent. CE, sandstone, H. 25.4 cm., Honolulu Museum of Art, Purchase, Selden Washington Bequest, 2003, 12, 595.1. Photograph courtesy of the Honolulu Museum of Art.

Figure 11. Detail of a relief of female musicians, excavated at Stūpa no. 10, Khu Bua, Ratchaburi province, Thailand, ca. 7th-8th cent. CE, stucco, H. 66 cm., Bangkok National Museum, inv. no. 311/2511. Photograph by Nicolas Revire.

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one in front of each ear and one at the center of the forehead.26 The mitre fits tightly over the cranium and then narrows to a short column before broadening to a series of three layered elements: a narrow, undecorated strip followed by a thick row of heavy circular bosses, and then a narrow, possibly beaded, band. Finally, the entire headpiece is crowned at the top by a convex subconical protuberance. While the total ensemble of mitre elements appears to be entirely unique in Southeast Asian sculpture, the individual elements all have precedent in the corpus of early mitred images from the region. Perhaps originally inspired by the Pallava sculpture of southeastern India, a convex protuberance on the top of the mitre is encountered on a number of threedimensional sculptures from early Cambodia and Thailand, i.e., 7th-8th centuries.27 The few examples from Cambodia include a goddess from Kampong Khleang in Siem Reap province and a Viṣṇu found at Phnom Thon Mon in Kandal province.28 A flatter disc-like protuberance tops the mitre of a head, probably Viṣṇu and reportedly from Cambodia, in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.29 Western Thailand has also yielded an example in the Viṣṇu from Ratchaburi province (Figure 8).30 Bands or diadems adorned with leaves are sometimes called pattrapaṭṭa (“band of leaves”). Bejeweled variations may be referred to as ratnapaṭṭa (“band of jewels”). A brief discussion of “head-gear” in Hindu iconography can be found in Rao 1993 [1914-1916]: 26-30. 27 Pallava mitres in stone sculpture of the 7th-8th centuries vary and change over time, but they are typically taller, narrower, and more tapering than their Southeast Asian counterparts, which, in contrast to Pallava examples, often flare outward. Examples of tall Pallava mitres are worn, for example, by the Trivikrama in the Varāha Cave (Beck 2006: 143); the Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana at the Mahiṣamardinī Cave (Beck 2006: 132-133); images of Viṣṇu and the portrait of King Narasiṃhavarman I at the Dharmarājaratha (Beck 2006: 103, 196, 204); and the Viṣṇu in the Ādivarāha Cave (Krishna 1980: pl. 17), all at Māmallapuram (or Mahābalipuram). These Pallava mitres are often capped by a disc, or diminishing series of discs, culminating in a convex protuberance with what appear, at least in some cases, to be floral decorative forms. A squatter variation consists of a truncated cylinder or cone surmounted by a steep conical crowning peak; these occur most notably on the royal portraits in the Ādivarāha Cave (Beck 2006: 154-157). Bronze images that may be assignable to the Pallava period, are topped by a multi-tiered cone-like element or, alternately, by a finial-like knob that resembles a floral element or bud (Pal 1969/1970: 24-26; Srinivasan 2013: 173-175). 28 For the Kampong Khleang goddess (National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, sandstone, H. 62.5 cm.), see Dupont 1955: 135, 165-166, pl. XXXVIIA; Dalsheimer 2001: 90, cat. no. 29. For the Phnom Thon Mon Viṣṇu (sandstone, present whereabouts and dimensions unknown), see Haksrea 1981/1982: 74-77. 29 Acc. no. 26.206, sandstone, H. 24.6 cm.; see Coomaraswamy 1928: 16. 30 The image was reportedly found at Wat Tho in Ratchaburi province and is now in the Bangkok National Museum (inv. no. KKH 7, stone, H. 1.52 m.). Dupont (1941: 235-237, pl. XXVIIIB), Boisselier (1959: 216-17, fig. 4, and 1975: 99), and O’Connor (1972: 47-8, fig. 19) mistakenly, it seems, identified the image has having come from Phetchaburi. Opinions on the date of the Ratchaburi Viṣṇu differ. Dupont and O’Connor do not explicitly advance a date, but imply 7th century or later. Boisselier and Piriya consider it to be a relatively late example of the mitred Viṣṇu tradition, ca. 2nd half of the 7th century. In contrast, Lavy (2004: 312-315) has emphasized features that suggest the possibility of an earlier date, ca. late 6th-early 7th century. 26

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It wears a mitre that terminates in two diminishing discs that swell outward like flat cushions but are otherwise unadorned. This feature is comparable to the mitres worn by two of the attendant maidens in the mid-to-late 7th-century Gajalakṣmī scene in the Ādivarāha Cave at Māmallapuram in Tamil Nadu, India (Piriya 2012: 107, fig. 1.105a-b). In Southeast Asia, similar crowning discs are more commonly encountered on images from, or associated with, the site of Si Thep in Phetchabun province, Thailand. These include, for example, a Kṛṣṇa Govārdhana and a fragmentary goddess, the latter of which wears a mitre and ear adornments that also resemble the aforementioned attendants in the Ādivarāha Cave.31 A Viṣṇu head in the Honolulu Museum of Art, probably from Si Thep, wears a polygonal mitre with a precisely defined knob-like finial that appears to consist of several bands or tiers. Like the Phong Tuek image, the Honolulu mitre is decorated with similar, albeit more intricate, triangular shaped florettes above the ears and forehead (Figure 12).32 Better approximating the complete headdress of the Phong Tuek image, however, are rare images that combine three elements: the floriated diadem, the concave or constricted mitre, and the subconical crowning protuberance. Such images have little to no formal relationship with Pallava art. They include, for example, a stucco head of a male deity from Nakhon Pathom with a crowning protuberance that resembles a bun of hair and a mitre that includes a diadem robustly decorated with jewels and flowers above the forehead and temples.33 Stylistically closer to the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu is another head of a male deity from Surat Thani province (Figure 13).34 Both images wear a mitre with diminishing tiers perhaps intended to represent a lotus bud and both include a band of hair running across the forehead beneath the floriated edge of the mitre. Unlike the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu, however, the Surat Thani diadem is adorned not with triangular leaf-like forms (patrapaṭṭa), but with circular florettes consisting of prominent “buds” surrounded by round petals. Striking similarities to the Surat Thani head, on the one hand, and to the For the goddess in the Linden-Museum Stuttgart (acc. no. SA 34 180L, sandstone, H. 1.35 cm.), see Thomsen 1982: 160, fig. E46; Kreisel 1987: 104-105, fig. 115. For the Kṛṣṇa Govārdhana (National Museum, Bangkok, sandstone, H. 92 cm.), see Piriya 2012: 108, fig. 1.107. 32 An older photograph of the Si Thep Viṣṇu head was published by Bunker and Latchford (2008: 30, fig. 3.18) with no mention of its current location in the Honolulu Museum of Art (12595.1), which acquired it in 2003. 33 The ca. 7th-8th century stucco head (H. 17 cm.) is in the Bangkok National Museum (inv. no. Y4, 59 (2/6). Among other suggestions, it has been variously identified as a “Vaishnava deity” (Piriya 2012: 117, fig. 1.122) and the Bodhisattva born as a “Śaiva hermit” (Valérie Zaleski in Baptiste and Zéphir 2009: 160, no. 53; Guy 2014: 244-245, cat. no. 150). 34 The head from Wat Phra Phikanet, Surat Thani province (Chaiya National Museum, stone, H. 15 cm.) is commonly identified as Viṣṇu. Piriya [1980: (7), color pl. III] dates it to the 7th century, however, the date of late 7th or early 8th century advocated by Jacq-Hergoualc’h (2002: 127-8, fig. 20) is accepted here. 31

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Phong Tuek Viṣṇu, on the other, occur on the headpiece of a small gold image of a mitred, four-armed standing Viṣṇu, perhaps dating to ca. 9th-10th century. It was discovered in 1840 at Muara Kaman in East Kalimantan, Indonesia, but later mounted on addorsed peacocks or Garuḍa forms and incorporated into a necklace.35 The diadem of the Muara Kaman Viṣṇu is decorated with circular florettes similar to the Surat Thani head, however, unlike the latter, there are also florettes on the upper band of the mitre that occupy a similar position as the bosses of the Phong Tuek image.36 The high, narrow form and constricted waist of the Muara Kaman mitre also resemble the Phong Tuek image, as does the long, slender shape of the head and face. Given the tiny size of the Muara Kaman image, however, there is probably little significance that can be drawn from morphological similarities and, while it has the same iconography as the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu, other aspects of style differ quite markedly. These differences include, for example, the type, disposition, and details of the jewelry; the arrangement of the garments; the details of the attribute in each hand, and the manner in which each attribute is held. But the similarities it shares with the Surat Thani and Phong Tuek images, as well as its ready portability, make the Muara Kaman image important evidence of the complex webs of artistic interconnections that have characterized Southeast Asia for millennia.

West to Arakan While still poorly understood, it is increasingly clear that there were important mid-to-late 1st millennium artistic relationships between various areas of what is today Myanmar and other regions of mainland Southeast Asia, including, for example, between the Pyu art of central and upper Myanmar and Dvāravatī (Brown The solid gold Viṣṇu from Muara Kaman, Kutai regency, East Kalimantan, measures approximately 10 cm. in height and is today housed in the Mulawarman Museum in Tenggarong, East Kalimantan, Indonesia. An excellent photograph was published by Edwards McKinnon (2000: 227). It was previously part of the regalia of the Sultanate of Kutai (also spelled Kutei) and was photographed worn by a crown-prince in ca. 1883 (Guy 2011: 170-171, figs. 3.7-3.8). 36 Related variations of this type of mitre can be seen, for example, on the following: (1) an andesite seated Viṣṇu (H. 65 cm.) from Central Java dated by Fontein (2007: 104-105, no. 44) to the 8th-9th century (Museum Rietberg Zürich, inv. no. RIN 4); and (2) an unusual bronze standing Viṣṇu (H. 13 cm.), perhaps from Central Java, tentatively dated by Le Bonheur (1971: 218-220) to the 9th-10th century (Musée national des Arts Asiatiques-Guimet, Paris, inv. no. MG 3626). On the other hand, these three mitres lack some of the distinguishing features of other images from, or attributed to, Central Java. Mitres of the latter are taller, more slender, and, in addition to the floriated diadem, the main cylindrical portion is decorated with three tall, prominent triangular florettes. They also have a thick coil of hair or rolled strap of fabric that encircles the crown of the head and out of which the cylinder projects upwards. For examples of this type, see, e.g., (1) the ca. 8th-9th century Candi Banon Viṣṇu (National Museum, Jakarta, inv. no. 4847/18e, andesite, H. 2.06 m.) (Bernet Kempers 1959: pl. 42); and (2) a bronze Bodhisattva head (private collection, H. 20 cm.) dated by Bernet Kempers (1959: 64-65, pl. 178) to the second half of the 9th or early 10th century. 35

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2001; Galloway 2010); Arakan and Dvāravatī (Gutman 1986: 281-282; Tiffin and Stuart-Fox 2002); lower Myanmar and northeast Thailand (Murphy 2014); and lower Myanmar and Preangkorian/Angkorian art (Gutman 2001: 44-48; 2008: 135-139; 2013: 134-138). As people moved between what are today Thailand and Myanmar, they would probably have relied not only on coastal connections but also on overland routes; this would likely have included what has become known as the Three Pagodas Pass (Wheatley 1961: 10, 195; Dhida 1999: 59). The nearby Phong Tuek area of western Thailand would therefore have been situated in a strategic location beneficial to artistic transmissions and exchanges. Perhaps the closest counterparts to the unique Phong Tuek mitre can be found in sculpture from ancient Arakan. A well-known head from Vesali (Figure 14), related to Gupta and post-Gupta forms, may be equipped with a similar mitre that is rendered in greater skill and detail than that of the Phong Tuek image.37 Most likely an image of Viṣṇu, it likewise includes a band of small hair curls above the forehead, a diadem topped by three leaf-shaped protuberances, a constricted mid-section, and a multiple tiered upper portion culminating in a convex crowning protuberance. Other less accomplished Viṣṇu sculptures from Arakan, one from Dhanyawadi (Figure 15) and another from Mrauk U (Figure 16), combine all of these elements with the upper band of circular bosses.38 The Dhanyawadi mitre is a particularly close, but not identical, match to the Phong Tuek image. It is also noteworthy that these and other standing Vaiṣṇava images from Myanmar tend to be positioned with their lowered hands oriented away from the body, whether resting on weapons (cakra and gadā) like the examples here, on the heads of personified weapons (āyudhapuruṣas), or holding the mace like a staff.39 As previously noted, this hand position resembles the turned-out position of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu’s lower left hand. The similarity, however, may very well be a Gutman (1999: 32-33, fig. 4) dates the red sandstone head (H. 29 cm.) from Vesali (also Vesāli, Veśālī, or Wethali) to ca. 6th century. It is housed in the Mrauk U Museum, Myanmar. See also Gutman 1976: 264-266, pls. LXXVI-LXXVII; Gutman 2001: 12, pl. 9; Singer 2008: 111 and unnumbered fig. 38 The sandstone Mrauk U Viṣṇu (H. 40 cm.), originally found on the grounds of the Pharabaw monastery and now in the Mrauk U Museum, has been dated by style to the 8th century (Gutman 1976: pl. LXXIXa; Gutman 2001: 60, fig. 46; Singer 2008: 111-112 and unnumbered fig.). Originally four-armed, its frontal, or upper, arms have broken away at the elbows. Of similar size (Gutman: personal communication), the sandstone Dhanyawadi (or Dhañyawaddy) Viṣṇu, now in the Mahamuni Museum, is probably slightly earlier, ca. late 7th-8th century (Singer 2008: 111 and unnumbered fig.). In spite of potential differences in the identity and placement of the attributes in the anterior hands, both are referred to here simply as “Viṣṇu” for convenience. 39 Personified weapons (āyudhapuruṣas) occur, for example, on the ca. 6th-7th century red sandstone sculpture of Viṣṇu (H. 50 cm.) from Wuntitaung, Arakan, Myanmar, and now in the Mrauk U Museum (Gutman 1999: 31-32, fig. 3; Gutman 2001: 58, pl. 44). A stone Viṣṇu image from Śrīkṣetra (H. 1 m.), perhaps dating to the 9th century, grips the mace below the pommel, rather than placing the hand on top (Gutman 1999: 33, fig. 5). Both are fragmentary, so an identification more precise than “Viṣṇu” is not attempted here. 37

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coincidence and, as suggested above, the result of the extension and reorientation of the forearm during the course of “restoration.” In terms of this particular feature, there are several factors that argue against a stylistic relationship with Viṣṇus from Myanmar. First, the Arakan images (Figures 15 and 16), as well as others from Myanmar, exhibit greater symmetry with both of the lowered hands turned out, rather than sharing the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu’s awkward and mismatched juxtaposition of a forward-facing right hand and an out-turned left hand (Figure 1). Second, the lowered arms of the Arakan Viṣṇus are of even length, but the left forearm of the Phong Tuek image is unnaturally and disproportionately elongated relative to its right arm. Third, the elbows of the out-turned arms of Viṣṇus from Myanmar tend to be pulled closer to the body (e.g., Figure 16), whereas a wider gap is maintained between the body and arms of the Phong Tuek image. All of these factors support the hypothesis that the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu has been modified and that the original position of the arms would have been consistent with the known examples from Thailand, Cambodia, and southern Vietnam, rather than those from Myanmar. A major distinguishing feature of the Arakan Viṣṇus is the lowering of the posterior arms so that they extend well below the waist or hip-level of the anterior arms. This can be seen on both the Dhanyawadi (Figure 15) and Mrauk U Viṣṇus, although the anterior arms of the latter (Figure 16) no longer survive. In both images, the lowered proper right hand rests on a cakra, in turn supported by a pedestal, and the left on the pommel of an inverted gadā. The iconographical development of lowering the posterior arms to rest on weapons first occurred in early Gupta period India but, outside of Myanmar, is rarely encountered in Southeast Asian art. The only other stone example known to the authors is a ca. 9th-century Javanese Viṣṇu (Craven 1984: no. 47). In contrast, the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu—like virtually all standing Viṣṇus from Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam—exhibits the raised position of the posterior arms (e.g., Figures 1, 6, 7, and 21). Thus, the overall conception and iconography of the Arakan Viṣṇus (and others from Myanmar) differ substantially from those made elsewhere in mainland Southeast Asia. Other than the form and decoration of the mitre, there is therefore little evidence that the Vaiṣṇava images from Arakan had much influence towards the east and Phong Tuek. On the other hand, although many of the features of the Dhanyawadi and Mrauk U mitres appear to have been the product of “internal” development following the Vesali Viṣṇu (Figure 14), it is not inconceivable that the appearance of the upper band of circular bosses on the Arakan mitres was the product of stylistic influences that were spreading from east to west, that is, from Phong Tuek to Arakan. Other westward moving artistic transmission is suggested by two, perhaps three, lintels found in the Mrauk U area that seem to exhibit influences from the Preangkorian Sambor Prei Kuk style of the early-to-mid 7th century, but which appear to have been carved in the stone typical of Arakan sculpture and in a localized idiom (Gutman 2001: 48, pls. 32-33; Singer 2008: 112-113). As further discussed below, lintels in Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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the Sambor Prei Kuk style have been found in eastern Thailand. Artisans working in this and other Preangkorian styles may have traveled from eastern Thailand to Arakan via western Thailand, Phong Tuek, and the Three Pagodas Pass. Such westward movement would help explain not only the traits shared by both the Phong Tuek and Arakan Viṣṇus, but also the appearance of a Preangkorian style in Arakan and the significant influence that Preangkorian styles exerted on the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu itself.

East to Preangkorian Khmer and Cham art Khmer and Cham artistic influences of the mid-7th to early 8th century are crucial for understanding the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu, particularly its headdress and the arrangement of its garment. Similar elaborate mitres with floriated diadems, constricted midsections, multiple diminishing tiers, and a crowning finial-like protuberance occur on several mid-7th century Prei Kmeng style lintels bearing reliefs of Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana (Viṣṇu reclining upon the serpent Ananta), including a lintel from Tuol Baset in Battambang province (Figure 17), and another at Phnom Han Chey in Kampong Cham province (Figure 18).40 A very similar, albeit eroded, mitre also occurs on the Wat Eng Khna lintel that depicts a royal consecration (abhiṣeka) and Viṣṇu and Brahmā flanking Śiva as Liṅgodbhavamūrti (representation of the origin of the liṅga).41 Like the Phong Tuek image, these mitres are embellished with florettes above the forehead and temples.42 Some of these decorative elements probably correspond to removable diadems and metal attachments that likely adorned the mitres of three-dimensional stone sculpture when in worship (Dupont 1955: 134-138; Bunker and Latchford 2008: 27, 31, fig. 3.20). Conspicuously absent from these mitres rendered in relief, however, are the circular bosses that only seem to occur on the Phong Tuek image and, in more miniature form, on the two examples from Arakan. The Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana images depicted on the Prei Kmeng style lintels are closely related to similar depictions of Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana in the Cham art of Vietnam designated as the Mỹ Sơn E1 style, as well as this style’s variants and extensions (Boisselier 1956). Somewhat similar constricted mitres with multiple For the lintel from Tuol Baset in Baset village (formerly in the Wat Po Veal museum and Battambang Museum and now in the National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, inv. no. Ka. 3218, sandstone, H. 63 cm., L. 1.58 m.), see Dupont 1955: 136-138, pl. XXVIA; Guy 2014: 151152, cat. no. 75. For the Han Chey lintel (in situ on the small sandstone shrine), see Bénisti 1964: 93-95, figs. 1-2. In addition to the Tuol Baset and Phnom Han Chey examples illustrated here, lintels depicting Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana also include those from Vat Tang Kasang, Tuol Ang, and Robang Romeah (Dupont 1952: figs. 24, 31; Bénisti 1974: 132-135, fig. 1). 41 For the lintel found at Wat Eng Khna in Kampong Thom province (National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, inv. no. Ka. 1774, sandstone, H. 55 cm., L. 1.85 m.), see Guy 2014: 165-167, cat. no. 88. 42 A very similar type of mitre also occurs, rather unusually, on a small bronze Avalokiteśvara (?) (H. 21 cm.) found at Wat Kompong Luong in Angkor Borei, Cambodia; see Dupont 1955: 138, pl. XXII-A. 40

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Figure 13. Head of a deity (Viṣṇu?), found at Wat Phra Phikanet, Tha Chana District, Surat Thani province, Thailand, ca. late 7th-early 8th cent CE, stone, H. 15 cm., Chaiya National Museum. Photograph by Paul Lavy.

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Figure 14. Head of Viṣṇu, Vesali (or Wethali), Rakhine state, Myanmar, ca. 6th century CE, red sandstone, H. 29 cm., Mrauk U Museum. Photograph by Pamela Gutman.

Figure 15. Viṣṇu, Dhanyawadi, Rakhine state, Myanmar, ca. late 7th-8th cent. CE, sandstone, H. ca. 46 cm., Mahamuni Museum. Photograph by Don Stadtner.

Figure 16. Viṣṇu, found at Pharabaw monastery, Mrauk U, Rakhine state, Myanmar, ca. 8th cent. CE, sandstone now limed and painted, H. 40 cm., Mrauk U Museum. Photograph by Don Stadtner.

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tiers and a crowning finial-like protuberance can be seen on tympana from Mỹ Sơn (Figure 19), Phú Thọ (Figure 20), and Mỹ Xuyên.43 By the 8th century, Cham mitres begin to take on a polygonal form as seen for example on the post-Mỹ Sơn E1 style Ɖa Nghi Viṣṇu (Figures 21 and 22) and a ca. early 9th century Viṣṇu Garuḍāsana (Viṣṇu mounted on Garuḍa) found in the Marble Mountains of Đà Nẵng province, Vietnam.44 They bear some resemblance to the Phong Tuek mitre, again particularly in terms of the floriated diadem, constricted mid-section, and protuberant apex.45 The relationships between the art of Champa (or Campā) and other regions of Southeast Asia have long been a subject of scholarship (Baptiste 2014). There is convincing evidence, for example, of 7th-8th century artistic interactions between Champa and Dvāravatī (Guy 2009: 142-143) and ca. 9th-century Cham influence in the Chaiya area of peninsular Thailand (Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: 267-269, 302-306, but contra, 315-316). It is not inconceivable that this influence on the Thai-Malay Peninsula could have extended north into western Thailand and the Phong Tuek area, however there is as yet little corroborating evidence for such a scenario. It is likely For the tympanum originally from temple E1 at Mỹ Sơn, Quảng Nam province (Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, inv. no. 17.8, sandstone, H. 1.15 m., L. 2.40 m.), see Baptiste and Zéphir 2005: 183-185, cat. no. 5; Guy 2014: 152-153, cat. no. 76. For the tympanum (or lintel?) from Phú Thọ, Quảng Ngãi province (Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, inv. no. 17.4, sandstone, H. 72 cm., L. 1.85 cm.), see Guillon 2001: 80, cat. no. 18. The Mỹ Xuyên tympanum from Thừa ThiênHuế province is only known through a drawing first published in Parmentier 1918: 423, fig. 125. 44 For the Viṣṇu (formerly in the Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, inv. no. 8.1, sandstone, H. 1.80 m.) from Ɖa Nghi in Quảng Trị province, see Boisselier 1963: 55-57, fig. 22, pls. III-a, VI-d. For the Viṣṇu Garuḍāsana (Musée national des Arts Asiatiques-Guimet, Paris, inv. no. MA 3572, sandstone with modern polychrome, H. 58 cm.), see Baptiste and Zéphir 2005: 198-199, cat. no. 12; Guy 2014: 154-155, cat. no. 78. One may add an additional example worn by a deity that has been identified as Śiva (sandstone, H. 78 cm.), associated with the Mỹ Sơn E1 style, and dated on stylistic grounds to the 8th century (Hubert 2005: 58, fig. 49). Its provenance is unknown to the authors and it is approached here with a high degree of caution. 45 A closely related mitre can be seen on a bronze Viṣṇu (H. 30 cm.) in the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam (inv. no. AK-MAK-265, 1959). The origins of this sculpture are unknown, but arguments may be made for associating it both with Central Javanese and Cham art (Dupont 1953: 21-26; Lunsingh Scheurleer and Klokke 1988: 60, cat. no. 8). 43

(Opposite page) Figure 17. Lintel depicting Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana and the Birth of Brahmā, Tuol Baset, Battambang province, Cambodia, Prei Kmeng style, ca. mid-7th cent. CE, sandstone, H. 63 cm., W. 1.58 m., National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, Ka. 3218. Photograph courtesy of Artibus Asiae, after Dupont 1955: pl. XXVI-A. Figure 18. Detail of lintel depicting Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana, Phnom Han Chey, Kampong Cham province, Cambodia, Prei Kmeng style, ca. mid-7th cent. CE, sandstone, in situ. Photograph by Paul Lavy. Figure 19. Detail of tympanum depicting Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana and the Birth of Brahmā, Mỹ Sơn temple E1, Quảng Nam province, Vietnam, Mỹ Sơn E1 style, ca. mid-7th cent. CE, gray sandstone, H. 1.15 m., L. 2.40 m., Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, inv. no. 17.8. Photograph by Paul Lavy. Figure 20. Detail of tympanum (or lintel?) depicting Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana and the Birth of Brahmā, Phú Thọ, Quảng Ngãi, Vietnam, related to the Mỹ Sơn E1 style, ca. 8th cent. CE, sandstone, H. 72 cm.; L. 1.85 m., Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, inv. no. 17.4. Photograph by Paul Lavy.

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that overland connections between Cham kingdoms, northeast Thailand, and central Thailand (or Dvāravatī) were involved (Murphy forthcoming). The distinctive form of mitre seen in 7th-8th century Cham sculpture appears on several 8th-century sema stones in northeast Thailand and particularly on examples from Mueang Fa Daet in Kalasin province, i.e., the mitres worn by Indra (also Śakra/Sakka) on the sema stone share the cylindrical or polygonal shape, floriated diadem, constricted mid-section, and protuberant apex (Piriya 1974: 57-58; Murphy forthcoming). This particular configuration of elements was widespread in mainland Southeast Asia by the mid-7th century, continued through the 8th century, and developed into different headdress styles during the 9th and 10th centuries. In addition to the mitres, the garments and girdles worn by the Tuol Baset (Figure 17) and Ɖa Nghi Viṣṇus (Figures 21 and 22) have clear relationships with those of the Phong Tuek image. Like the Ɖa Nghi image the Phong Tuek garment hangs in a series of tight folds over the lower part of the proper right thigh and plunges past the knees in a “v-shaped” panel of fabric.46 The two figures also have a similar elongated anatomy with very high pinched waists and narrow hips. Indeed the similarities between these two images are compelling and would seem to defy coincidence. It is unfortunate that the Ɖa Nghi Viṣṇu was stolen from the Museum of Cham Sculpture in 1988 (Guillon 2001: 165, no. 176). Its whereabouts are presently unknown, and it is therefore unavailable for firsthand examination and comparison. However, it is crucial to note that some of the apparent similarities between these two sculptures may be the result of the 1950s “restoration” of the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu; it appears that substantial portions of the garment, from about mid-thigh level down, may have been touched-up with cement. If this visual observation is correct, the restoration may have affected, or involved alterations to, those portions of the garment with the idiosyncratic Ɖa Nghi-related traits (i.e., the small accordion folds on the thigh and the deep “v-shaped” extension of fabric).

The garment and the style of Prasat Andet The questions surrounding the Ɖa Nghi Viṣṇu aside, the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu’s garment is directly related to the Preangkorian style of Prasat Andet, ca. late 7th to early 8th century (Dupont 1955: 166-179; Boisselier 1981: 18-21). A defining feature of this style is the so-called “pocket-fold” arrangement of the garment, or sampot (Lavy 2004: 214-215). The Cleveland Museum of Art deity (Figure 23, probably Viṣṇu), one of the earliest images associated with the Prasat Andet style, wears a garment with an arrangement that seems to stand at the transition from the A remarkably similar configuration of garment occurs on an adorant figure carved in high-relief on a sandstone block (H. 92 cm.) that is probably from an image or liṅga pedestal. Held in private collections since at least the 1940s, including previously that of Joseph Inguimberty, the image has been attributed to the Mỹ Sơn E1 style of the 7th-8th centuries (Hubert 2005: 19, fig. 13). 46

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Figure 21. Viṣṇu (frontal view), Ɖa Nghi, Quảng Trị province, Vietnam, ca. 8th cent. CE, sandstone, H. 1.08 m., formerly Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, inv. no. 8.1 (stolen in 1988). Photograph after Parmentier 1922: pl. XXVI, “no. 8,1 (face).”

Figure 22. Viṣṇu (profile view), Ɖa Nghi, Quảng Trị province, Vietnam. Photograph after Parmentier 1922: pl. XXVI, “no. 8,1 (profil).”

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Figure 23. Hindu God probably Viṣṇu, Cambodia, Prasat Andet style, ca. 2nd half of 7th cent. CE, gray sandstone, H. 87.0 cm., The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna, Jr. Fund, 1942.562. Photograph courtesy of The Cleveland Museum of Art.

Figure 24. Harihara, found in the cella of Prasat Andet, Kampong Thom province, Cambodia, Prasat Andet style, ca. late 7th-early 8th cent. CE, sandstone, H. 1.97 m., National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, Ka. 1635. Photograph courtesy of Artibus Asiae, after Dupont 1955: pl.XXXIII-A.

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Prei Kmeng (ca. 625/30-700) to the Prasat Andet style (Dupont 1955: 168-171, pl. XXXIII-B). Characteristic of both styles is its cinching of the garment on the hip, in this case on the proper left. To this relatively simple and straightforward form of drapery are added the “pocket-fold” and a sash worn horizontally around the hips in the fashion of some early 7th century images, with the exception that, unlike those earlier images, the sash is knotted at the waist rather than terminating in a bow at the right hip.47 In the fully developed Prasat Andet style, the horizontal sash is replaced with a belt that occasionally, as with the Prasat Andet Harihara (Figure 24), consists of square chain-links, presumably in imitation of metal accessories that are known to have been donated to deities and which seemingly survive to the present (Bunker and Latchford 2008: 13-24). A similar type of belt was anticipated by the ca. mid-7th century image of Viṣṇu on the Tuol Baset lintel (Figure 17). In short, the sampot of the Cleveland Museum of Art deity (Figure 23) combines a variation of the earlier type of horizontal sash (ca. early-to-mid 7th century) with the lateral waist-knot of the Prei Kmeng style (mid-7th century) and a key distinguishing feature of the Prasat Andet style, the “pocket-fold” (late 7th-early 8th century). The Phong Tuek Viṣṇu similarly presents an array of sartorial elements that seem to span the 7th and early 8th centuries (Figure 4). It is attired in a variation of the more fully developed Prasat Andet drapery style with a chain-link belt, but it combines these features with a horizontal coiled sash worn just above, and parallel with, the belt. Somewhat similar, but not identical, “stacking” of sashes and belts occurs on the Tuol Baset and Han Chey lintels (Figures 17 and 18) and the Ɖa Nghi Viṣṇu (Figure 21). As noted above, the horizontal sash is present in early 7th-century sculpture from Cambodia, but the coiled variety was particularly common in the late 6th-early 7th century sculpture of peninsular and eastern Thailand (Lavy 2004: 314). It then fades out over the course of the 7th century. The singular presence of the coiled sash on the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu in conjunction with the fully developed Prasat Andet style of garment (Figure 24) may be the last vestige of a prevalent local motif that was likely becoming archaistic by the time the image was made under late 7th-early 8th century influences emanating from the Prasat Andet style and approximately contemporary Cham art.

Conclusions and cross-cultural connections The Phong Tuek Viṣṇu represents an idiosyncratic spectrum of stylistic influences ranging from Champa and Preangkorian inputs to longstanding stylistic features of peninsular and eastern Thailand to potential relationships with Arakan Examples of the earlier type include two Viṣṇus of ca. 600, both in the National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh (Dalsheimer 2001: 46-9, cat. nos. 2-3). These are (1) the Viṣṇu from Tuol Chu, Kandal province, Cambodia (inv. no Ka. 1610, sandstone, H. 94 cm.); and (2) the Viṣṇu from Kompong Cham Kau, Stung Treng province, Cambodia (inv. no. Ka. 1598, sandstone, 1.95 m.). 47

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that deserve further research (see map, Figure 2). The preponderance of evidence places the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu in the late 7th or, more likely, the early 8th century, though, given the current state of evidence, a date somewhat later in the 8th century cannot be completely ruled out as a possibility. In any case, it likely dates to a time not far removed from the mid-to-late 7th century expansion of elites, presumably Khmer and associated with the polity of “Zhenla,” out of the Kampong Thom area of north central Cambodia (Brown 1996: 52; Vickery 1998: 33-47). Initial forays from this region toward the north and west began earlier, ca. the very late 6th-early 7th century, under the so-called “Mun Valley Chiefs” or “Dangrek Chieftains.” Most prominent among them was Citrasena-Mahendravarman, who undertook a series of military expeditions up the middle Mekong River as far north as Champasak province in southern Laos, westward up the Mun River Valley of Thailand, and south to Ta Phraya in Sa Kaeo province of eastern Thailand (Vickery 1998: 71-78, 335; Lorrillard 2014: 197-198).48 These expeditions or “exploratory probes” may have had little political effect (Vickery 1998: 21, 79). However, more prolonged and engaged political intervention in eastern Thailand began with Mahendravarman’s son, Īśānavarman I (r. ca. 616-637), and continued in turn with Īśānavarman’s son, Bhavavarman II (r. ca. late 630s-650s), and great grandson, Jayavarman I (r. ca. 657-681).49 Each of these three kings seems to have endeavored to maintain similar territorial realms, albeit possibly ruling from different capitals, and each of them maintained, or sought to maintain, relatively strong control of eastern Thailand (Vickery 1998: 337, 342-3, 350).50 Four inscriptions provide evidence of this illustrious family’s mid-to-late 7th century authority in what is today eastern Thailand. Two of these inscriptions were found in the vicinity of Prasat Khao Noi (near Aranyaprathet, Sa Kaeo province); this area, together with ancient Mueang Phai, probably corresponds to the polity referred to in the inscriptions as Jyeṣṭhapura. The badly worn Khao Noi Inscription I (K. 506 / P.Ch. 16 / 637 CE) records the Vaiṣṇava dedications of Īśvarakumāra, a svāmi (“master”) of Jyeṣṭhapura and bhṛtya (“servant”) of either Īśānavarman I (Vickery 1998: 12930, 198-199, 338, 341) or perhaps Bhavavarman II (Jacques 1986: 81; 1990: 256). The undated Wat Kut Tae Inscription (K. 1150 / P.Ch. 26) mentions Śivadatta, a son of Īśānavarman I and elder brother of mahārāja Bhavavarman II, as svāmi of Mahendravarman’s presence at Ta Phraya is indicated by an inscription (K. 969 / P.Ch. 5) found at Prasat Khao Chong Sa Chaeng, Ta Phraya district, Sa Kaeo province. It records the excavation of a water tank called the “Śaṅkara Taṭāka” (Chhabra 1961: 110-111; Cœdès 1964: 152). 49 Varying dates have been postulated for Īśānavarman’s death: ca. 628, ca. 635, or ca. 637. For a comprehensive review with bibliography, see Vickery 1998: 340-342. 50 Īśānavarman I can be closely linked to his capital at Īśānapura/Sambor Prei Kuk (Vickery 1998: 335-339; Lavy 2003: 29-30). What little evidence there is for Bhavavarman II’s capital (Bhavapura?) favors Sambor Prei Kuk (Jacques 1986: 82-84; cf. Vickery 1998: 330-333). Jayavarman I’s capital remains unknown but it seems not to have been Īśānapura/Sambor Prei Kuk; it may have been located in southern Cambodia or in the region of Angkor (Vickery 1998: 350-356). 48

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Jyeṣṭhapura (Jacques 1986: 79-81 and 1989: 17; Vickery 1998: 130, 198, 338, 341).51 Two additional inscriptions indicate that, during the reign of Jayavarman I, the authority of this lineage was reasserted, or extended, to the Battambang area of present-day western Cambodia, into what is today eastern Thailand via the Watthana Gap and what has been called the “Mahosot Route,” and then south to the sea in Chanthaburi province (Mollerup 2012: 149-150).52 Charles Higham (2002: 297) has suggested that the overland route to the sea through Chanthaburi may have been exploited as an alternative to “restricted or second-hand access to the coastal trade and associated religious and political changes” enjoyed by the polities located in the Mekong River delta and on the Gulf of Thailand. Among the cumulative related art historical evidence, there are at least three lintels in the style of Sambor Prei Kuk (first half of the 7th century) and four in the style of Prei Kmeng (second half of the 7th century) that seem to correspond to this mid-to-late 7th century activity in eastern Thailand and that bear witness to Preangkorian artistic influence in the region (Smitthi and Mayurie 1989: 65-73, figs. 14-16, 19-20, 23, 27; Mollerup 2012: 10, 60-61).53 The possibility that the importance of this extended elite family may have reached further to the west, and into central Thailand, is suggested by the copper plate inscription from U Thong (K. 964), near Suphan Buri, approximately 100 kilometers northeast of Phong Tuek. This inscription records the succession to the throne (siṃhāsana or “lion seat”) by Harṣavarman, a grandson of a king named Īśānavarman. Although George Cœdès (1958: 129-131) and Claude Jacques (1986: 84-85 and 1989: 17) raised questions about the identity of this Īśānavarman, Robert Brown (1996: 49-52) has argued that it must be the king of that name ruling from Sambor Prei Kuk. According to Michael Vickery (1998: 132), Harṣavarman “probably represented a branch of Cambodian royalty who had established their own center in what is now central or eastern Thailand” during the mid-7th century. In this context, it is interesting to note that K. 964 also commemorates offerings made to two liṅgas by Harṣavarman (Cœdès 1958: 131), actions that may reflect the extension of Sambor Prei Kuk’s predominantly Śaiva religious orientation westward into what is now central Thailand (Lavy 2003: 32-33). Around this time in Champa, a Sanskrit inscription from Mỹ Sơn (C. 96/657 or 658 CE) indicates that another grandson of Īśānavarman I, Prakāśadharma, assumed the throne of Mỹ Sơn as King Vikrāntavarman I (r. ca. 653-687 or later). According to this inscription, Prakāśadharma’s (presumably Cham) father, Jagaddharma, Jacques and Vickery differ regarding the relative sequence of these two inscriptions. The relevant inscriptions are K. 447 (Cœdès 1942: 193-195; Vickery 1998: 350-351), reportedly from Wat Baset in the Battambang area, and K. 502 (or Ch.B. 3-4), found in two fragments at Wat Thong Thua and Wat Chai Chumphon (or Wat Sa Bap), Mueang Chanthaburi district, Chanthaburi province. Cœdès (1924: 352-358) associated K. 502 directly with Īśānavarman I, but Vickery (1998: 131-132, 338) has advanced compelling arguments in favor of dating it to the time of Jayavarman I with retrospective mention of Īśānavarman I. 53 For a more complete bibliography on these lintels, see Lavy 2004: 152-155. 51 52

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traveled to the town of “Bhava” – probably Bhavapura and perhaps a reference to Sambor Prei Kuk in Cambodia – where he married a daughter of Īśānavarman (I), princess Śarvāṇī (Boisselier 1956: 207-209 and 1963: 34-40; Golzio 2004: 13-21). Thus two divergent branches of the same family may have briefly ruled Sambor Prei Kuk/Zhenla’s neighbors to the east (Mỹ Sơn in Champa) and west (possibly the U Thong area or some polity associated with what we call Dvāravatī culture). For Jean Boisselier (1956: 208), these family relations are sufficient to explain the artistic relationships between Zhenla and Champa. Accordingly, Vikrāntavarman may be credited with importing Khmer traditions and mid-7th century stylistic influences into the Mỹ Sơn area. The influence of the Prei Kmeng style and related Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana lintels is, by this line of reasoning, reflected in the proliferation of Viṣṇu images in Cham art during the second half of the 7th century and into the 8th century (e.g., Figures 19-22).54 While the religious orientation among Īśānapura/ Zhenla elites was predominantly towards Śaivism, Viṣṇu remained an important divinity and focus of devotion (Lavy 2003: 32-34), with Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana lintels perhaps appearing on temples dedicated to Śiva. More broadly speaking, Vaiṣṇava mythological and literary traditions continued to circulate and gain popularity in many parts of Southeast Asia.55 As Boisselier (1956: 212) admits, however, his arguments do not explain how Cham artistic influences came to be felt in Preangkorian art. Thus, this unidirectional model and the wide-ranging elite family ties issuing from Īśānavarman I do not entirely clarify the particular mechanisms through which shared artistic expressions were being developed. More recent research that destabilizes earlier notions of fixed ethnic, religious, and cultural boundaries has begun to provide alternate ways of envisioning the dynamic interplay that characterized the art of the period. Thus, we can regard northeastern and southern Thailand as “interface regions” between Preangkorian and Dvāravatī art (Brown 1996: 19-45) and the relationship between Dvāravatī and Īśānapura/Zhenla as a “transregional ritual complex” (Revire forthcoming). Promising ongoing research by a number of scholars is also expanding knowledge about the various prehistoric and historic linkages made

Southworth (2001: 148) has advanced an interesting argument to the reverse, specifically, that the appearance of Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana in Preangkorian art may have been the result of Cham influences. Here is not the place to weigh the evidence, but suffice it to say that Vaiṣṇava devotionalism appears to have been considerably stronger, and Viṣṇu images far more common, in 6th-7th century Cambodia and southern Vietnam than at any point in Cham history, notwithstanding scattered Cham Viṣṇu images and periodic references to the Rāmāyaṇa in Cham sculpture and epigraphy. Viṣṇu Anantāśāyana is referenced, but not named, in one of the earliest inscriptions thus far found in Cambodia, K. 875 (Neak Ta Dambang Dek, Ta Keo province), which is considered to date to the late 5th or early 6th century CE on the basis of the shape of the script (Cœdès 1937; Goodall 2012: 345-348). 55 For the Rāmāyaṇa, in particular, and further bibliography in general, see: Zéphir 1996; Griffiths et al. 2012: 237-239; Goodall and Griffiths 2013: 434-437. 54

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via inland communication and transportation networks.56 Elite family connections do, nonetheless, provide a social and political context that would potentially have facilitated transregional and transcultural interactions across a vast swath of territory from central Vietnam in the east to central Thailand in the west. The Phong Tuek Viṣṇu probably dates to a time just after this particularly intense period of elite interactions, i.e., to ca. early 8th century, and was likely a product of the vibrant artistic activities that would have ensued alongside the events, dedications, and political developments recorded in the inscriptions. Phong Tuek occupies the western fringes of an extensive web of relationships reaching from central and eastern Thailand through western and northern Cambodia and into central Vietnam. And, as evidence continues to emerge that Phong Tuek may have been a more important Brahmanical center than previously realized (Indorf, Gudur, and Clarke 2014), it is also becoming clear that the Phong Tuek Viṣṇu stood directly astride cultural interactions between Preangkorian Cambodia to the east and ancient Arakan to the west. Acknowledgments We are grateful to Matthew D. Gallon for preparing the map (Figure 2); Donald Stadtner for providing Figures 15 and 16; Pamela Gutman for providing Figure 14 and data pertaining to the Arakan Viṣṇus; and Nicolas Revire for providing Figure 11 and for helpful comments on an earlier draft. We would also like to express our appreciation to the following individuals for their assistance with various aspects of the research and preparation of this article: Podjanok Kanjanajuntorn; Shawn Eichman and Sati Benes Chock at the Honolulu Museum of Art; Sonya Rhie Quintanilla, Katie Kilroy Blaser, and Elizabeth Saluk at the Cleveland Museum of Art; Kanchana Pankhoyngam, Chobvit Lubpairee, Pannee Panyawattanaporn, and Yada Sommarat of the National Research Council of Thailand; venerable Phra Khru Jariyaphirat, abbot of Wat Dong Sak; Supamas Doungsakun of the Fine Arts Department; Kob Kachonsittinoppakun, Pop Indrapiboon, Kanako Iwase, Amy E. McNair, Trần Kỳ Phương, Pinna Indorf, and Piyawit Moonkham.

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in Art and Archaeology. Bangkok: River Books and The Siam Society, pp. 310-329. Cœdès, George, 1924. “L’extension du Cambodge vers le sud-ouest au VIIe siècle (nouvelles inscriptions de Chantaboun).” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 24 (1924): pp. 352-8. ____, 1928a. “The excavations at P’ong Tuk and their importance for the ancient history of Siam.” The Journal of the Siam Society 21 (3): pp. 195-209. ____, 1928b. “New archaeological discoveries in Siam.” Indian Arts and Letters, n.s., 2 (1): pp. 9-20. ____, 1937. “A New Inscription from Fu-nan.” Journal of the Greater India Society 4: pp. 117-21. ____, 1942. Inscriptions du Cambodge, vol 2. Hanoi: École française d’Extrême-Orient. ____, 1958. “Nouvelles données épigraphiques sur l’histoire de l’Indochine centrale.” Journal Asiatique 246 (2): pp. 125-142. ____, 1964. Inscriptions du Cambodge, vol. 7. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient. Coomaraswamy, Ananda, 1928. “An Early Khmer Head of Vishnu.” Bulletin of the Museum of Fine Arts 26 (153): pp. 16-17. Craven, Roy C., 1974. Beyond India: an exhibition of works of art from Southeast Asia in the William and Robert Arnett Collection, April 10-June 16, 1974. Atlanta: High Museum of Art. Dalsheimer, Nadine, 2001. Les collections du musée national de Phnom Penh : l’art du Cambodge ancien. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient. Dalsheimer, Nadine and Manguin, Pierre-Yves, 1998. “Visnu mitrés et réseaux marchands er en Asie du Sud-Est : nouvelles données archéologiques sur le I millénaire apr. J.-C.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 85 (1): pp. 87-123. Dhida Saraya, 1999. (Sri) Dvaravati: The Initial Phase of Siam’s History. Bangkok: Muang Boran. Dofflemyer, Virginia S.,1982. The Ancient City of Si Thep: A Study of the Extant Brahmanical Sculptures (5th-10th Centuries). Doctoral Dissertation. Los Angeles: University of Southern California [unpublished]. Dupont, Pierre, 1936. “La statuaire en ronde-bosse dans l’Asie du sud-est.” Revue des Arts Asiatiques 10 (2): pp. 97-106. ____, 1941. “Visnu mitrés de l’Indochine occidentale.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 41: pp. 233-54. ____, 1951. “Les premières images brahmaniques de l’Indochine.” Bulletin de la Société des Études Indochinoises, n.s., 26 (2): pp. 131-40. ____, 1952. “Les linteaux khmers du VIIe siècle.” Artibus Asiae 15 (1-2): pp. 31-83. ____, 1953. “À propos d’une image de Vishnu en bronze.” Bulletin van de Vereniging Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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van Vrienden der Aziatische kunst, 3rd ser., 2: pp. 21-26. ____, 1955. La statuaire préangkorienne. Ascona: Artibus Asiae Supplementum. ____, 1959. L’archéologie mône de Dvāravatī, 2 vols. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient. Edwards McKinnon, Edmund, 2000. “Buddhism and the Pre-Islamic Archaeology of Kutei in the Mahakam Valley of East Kalimantan.” In Nora A. Taylor (ed.), Studies in Southeast Asian Art: Essays in Honor of Stanley J. O’Connor. Ithaca: Cornell University Southeast Asia Program, pp. 217-240. Fine Arts Department (FAD), 1993. Development of Thai Culture. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department. Fontein, Jan, 1990. The Sculpture of Indonesia. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art. ____, 1996. De Boeddha’s van Siam. Zwolle: Waanders Uitgevers [text in Dutch]. ____, 2007. The Art of Southeast Asia: The Collection of the Museum Rietberg Zürich. Zürich: Museum Rietberg. Galloway, Charlotte, 2008. “Ways of Seeing a Pyu, Mon and Dvaravati Artistic Continuum.” Bulletin of the Indo-Pacific Prehistory Association 30: 70-78. Giteau, Madeleine, 1975. Iconographie du Cambodge post-angkorien. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient. ____, 2001. Art et Archéologie du Laos. Paris: Picard. Golzio, Karl-Heinz (ed.), Inscriptions of Campā. Aachen: Shaker Verlag, 2004. Goodall, Dominic, 2012. “Les influences littéraires indiennes dans les inscriptions du Cambodge : l’exemple d’un chef-d’œuvre inédit du VIIIe siècle (K. 1236).” Comptes rendus de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres I (JanuaryMarch): pp. 345-357. Goodall, Dominic and Arlo Griffiths, 2013. “Études du Corpus des inscriptions du Campā. V. The Short Foundation Inscriptions of PrakāśadharmanVikrāntavarman, King of Campā.” Indo-Iranian Journal 56: pp. 419-440. Griffiths, Arlo, Amandine Lepoutre, William A. Southworth, and Thành Phần, 2012. Văn khắc Chămpa tại Bảo tàng Điêu khắc Chăm Đà Nẵng / The Inscriptions of Campā in the Museum of Cham Sculpture in Đà Nẵng. Hanoi: École française d’Extrême-Orient and Ho Chi Minh City: Center for Vietnamese and Southeast Asian Studies [text in Vietnamese and English]. Griswold, A. B., 1966. “Imported Images and the Nature of Copying in the Art of Siam.” Artibus Asiae Supplementum, (Essays Offered to G. H. Luce by his Colleagues and Friends in Honour of his Seventy-Fifth birthday) 23 (2): pp. 37-73. Guillon, Emmanuel (ed.), 2001. Cham Art: Treasures from the Dà Nang [sic: Đà Nẵng] Museum, Vietnam. Bangkok: River Books. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Gutman, Pamela, 1976. Ancient Arakan with special reference to its cultural history between the 5th and 11th centuries. Doctoral Dissertation. Canberra: Australian National University [unpublished]. ____, 1986. “Symbolism of Kingship in Arakan.” In David G. Marr and A.C. Milner (eds.) Southeast Asia in the 9th to 14th Centuries. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 279-287. ____, 1999. “Vishnu in Burma.” In Donald M. Stadtner (ed.), The Art of Burma: New Studies. Mumbai: Marg Publications, pp. 29-36. ____, 2001. Burma’s Lost Kingdoms: Splendours of Arakan. Bangkok: Orchid Press. ____, 2008. “Śiva in Burma.” In Elisabeth A. Bacus, Ian C. Glover, and Peter D. Sharrock (eds.), Interpreting Southeast Asia’s Past: Monument, Image and Text. Selected Papers from the 10th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, vol. 2 Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2008, pp. 135-141. ____, 2013. “Religious Syncretism in 11th-century Thaton: A Southeast Asian Transformation of Viṣṇu.” In Marijke J. Klokke and Véronique Degroot (eds.), Materializing Southeast Asia’s Past. Selected Papers from the 12th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, vol. 2. Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, pp. 134-139. Guy, John, 1995. “The Dorothy and Horace Quaritch Wales bequest – a note.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 3rd ser., 5 (1): pp. 91-92. ____, 2009. “Artistic Exchange, Regional Dialogue and the Cham Territories.” In Andrew Hardy, Mauro Cucarzi, and Patrizia Zolese (eds.), Champa and the Archaeology of Mỹ Sơn (Vietnam). Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, 2009, pp. 127-154 [first published in French in Baptiste and Zéphir 2005]. ____, 2011. “Gold in the Philippines: Form, Meaning, and Metamorphosis.” In Florina H. Capistrano-Baker (ed.), Philippine Ancestral Gold. Makati City: Ayala Foundation, pp. 163-188. ____ (ed.), 2014. Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Haksrea, K., 1981/1982. “A Viṣṇu Statue from Southern Cambodia.” Jebat 11: pp. 74-77. Hendrickson, Mitch. “Historic routes to Angkor: development of the Khmer road system (ninth to thirteenth Centuries AD) in mainland Southeast Asia.” Antiquity 84: pp. 480-496. Higham, Charles, 2002. Early Cultures of Mainland Southeast Asia. Chicago: Art Media Resources. Hubert, Jean-François, 2005. The Art of Champa. New York: Parkstone. Indorf, Pinna, Swati Gudur, and Wesley Clarke, 2014. “Describing Architectural Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Change and Continuity in Early Historic Central Thailand: A Dvāravatī Example.” Paper presented at the 20th Congress of the Indo-Pacific Prehistory Association, January 16, 2014, Siem Reap, Cambodia [unpublished]. Indradjaya, Agustijanto, 2014. “Early Traces of Hinduism and Buddhism across the Java Sea.” In John Guy (ed.), Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, pp. 116-117. Jacq-Hergoualc’h, Michel, 2002. The Malay Peninsula: Crossroads of the Maritime Silk Road. Leiden: Brill. Jacques, Claude, 1986. “Le pays khmer avant Angkor.” Journal des savants no. 1-3: pp. 59-95. ____, 1989. “The Khmers in Thailand: What the Inscriptions Inform Us.” SPAFA Digest 10 (1): pp. 16-24. ____, 1990. “New Data on the VII-VIIIth Centuries in the Khmer Land.” In Ian and Emily Glover (eds.), Southeast Asian Archaeology 1986. Proceedings of the First Conference of the Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists in Western Europe, September 8-10, 1986. London: Institute of Archaeology, University College London, pp. 251-59. Kreisel, Gerd, 1987. Linden-Museum Stuttgart, Südasien-Abteilung. Stuttgart: Linden-Museum. Krishna, Nanditha, 1980. The Art and Iconography of Vishnu-Narayana. Bombay: Taraporevala. Lavy, Paul A., 2003. “As in Heaven, So on Earth: The Politics of Viṣṇu, Śiva and Harihara Images in Preangkorian Khmer Civilisation.” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 34 (1): pp. 21- 39. ____, 2004. Viṣṇu and Harihara in the Art and Politics of Early Historic Southeast Asia. Doctoral Dissertation. Los Angeles: University of California [unpublished]. ____, 2014. “Conch-on-Hip Images in Peninsular Thailand and the Beginning of Vaiṣṇava Sculpture in Southeast Asia.” In Nicolas Revire and Stephen A. Murphy (eds.), Before Siam: Essays in Art and Archaeology. Bangkok: River Books and The Siam Society, pp. 152-173. Le Bonheur, Albert, 1971. La sculpture indonésienne au Musée Guimet. Paris: Presses Universitaires du France. Le May, Reginald, 2004. Buddhist Art in South-East Asia: The Indian Influence on the Art of Thailand. New Delhi: Aryan Books International [first published as A Concise History of Buddhist Art in Siam, 1938]. Lê Thị Liên, 2005. “Gold Plaques and Their Cultural Contexts in the Oc Eo Culture.” Indo-Pacific Prehistory Association Bulletin 25: pp. 145-154. ____, 2008. “Hindu Iconography in Early History of Southern Vietnam.” Taida Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Journal of Art History, Taiwan National University 25: pp. 69-96. ____, 2011. “Hindu Deities in Southern Vietnam: Images on Small Archaeological Artifacts.” In Pierre-Yves Manguin, A. Mani, and Geoff Wade (eds.), Early Interactions between South and Southeast Asia: Reflections on Cross-Cultural Exchange. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 407-431. Lorrillard, Michel, 2014. “Pre-Angkorian Communities in the Middle Mekong Valley (Laos and Adjacent Areas).” In Nicolas Revire and Stephen A. Murphy (eds.), Before Siam: Essays in Art and Archaeology. Bangkok: River Books and The Siam Society, pp. 186-215. Lunet de Lajonquière, Étienne Edmond, 1909. “Le domaine archéologiques du Siam.” Bulletin de la Commission Archéologique de l’Indochine, pp. 188-262. Lunsingh Scheurleer, Pauline and Marijke J. Klokke, 1988. Ancient Indonesian Bronzes: A Catalogue of the Exhibition in the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam with a General Introduction. Leiden: Brill. Manguin, Pierre-Yves, 2010. “Pan-Regional Responses to South Asian Inputs in Early Southeast Asia.” In Bérénice Bellina, Elisabeth A. Bacus, Thomas Oliver Pryce, and Jan Wisseman Christie (eds.), 50 Years of Archaeology in Southeast Asia: Essays in Honour of Ian Glover. Bangkok: River Books, pp. 170-181. Mollerup, Asger, 2012. Ancient Khmer Sites in Eastern Thailand. Bangkok: White Lotus. Moore, Elizabeth Howard, 2013. “Exploring the East-West Cultural Corridor: Historic and Modern Archaeology of Bago and Dawei, Myanmar.” Center of Southeast Asian Studies Newsletter, University of Kyoto, no 68, (Summer): pp. 21-24. Murphy, Stephen A., 2014. “Sema Stones in Lower Myanmar and Northeast Thailand: A Comparison.” In Nicolas Revire and Stephen A. Murphy (eds.), Before Siam: Essays in Art and Archaeology. Bangkok: River Books and The Siam Society, pp. 352-371. ____, forthcoming. “Cultural Connections and Shared Origins between Campā and Dvāravatī: A comparison of common artistic and architectural motifs, ca. 7th-10th  centuries CE.” In Arlo Griffiths (ed.),  New Research in Historical Champā Studies. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. O’Connor, Stanley J., Jr., 1966. “Satingphra: An Expanded Chronology.” Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society. 39 (1): pp. 137-144. ____, 1972. Hindu Gods of Peninsular Siam. Ascona: Artibus Asiae Supplementum. Pal, Pratapaditya, 1969/1970. “Some Interesting South Indian Bronzes.” Archives of Asian Art 23: pp. 24-30. ____, 2004. Asian Art at the Norton Simon Museum Volume 3: Art from Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia. New Haven: Yale University Press. Parmentier, Henri, 1918. Inventaire descriptif des monuments cams de l’Annam, vol. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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2. Paris: Leroux. ____, 1922. Les sculptures chames au Musée de Tourane. Ars Asiatica IV. Paris: G. Van Oest. Piriya Krairiksh, 1974. “Semas with Scenes from the Mahānipāta-Jātakas in the National Museum at Khon Kaen.” In Sinlapa læ borannakhadi nai prathet Thai / Art and Archaeology in Thailand, vol. 1. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department: pp. 35-65. ____, 1980. Art in Peninsular Thailand Prior to the Fourteenth Century A.D. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department. ____, 2012. The Roots of Thai Art. Bangkok: River Books. [First published in Thai as Rakngao haeng sinlapa thai, 2010 (2553 BE)]. Prathum Chumphengphan, 1987. Khruang thong krung Si Ayutthaya / Gold Treasures of the Ayutthaya Period. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department [text in Thai and English]. Quaritch Wales, Horace Geoffrey, 1936. “Further Excavations at P’ong Tuk (Siam).” Indian Arts and Letters 10 (1): pp. 42-48. ____, 1937a. “Some Ancient Human Skeletons Excavated in Siam.” Man 37: pp. 89-90. ____, 1937b. Towards Angkor in the Footsteps of the Indian Invaders. London: Harrap. ____, 1946. “Recent Malayan Excavations and Some Wider Implications.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 2: pp. 140-149. ____, 1969. Dvāravatī: The Earliest Kingdom of Siam. London: Bernard Quaritch. Rao, T.A. Gopinatha, 1993. Elements of Hindu Iconography, vol. 1, pt. 1 [2 vols.], 2nd ed. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass [first published 1914-1916]. Rawson, Philip S., 1957. Review of La statuaire préangkorienne, by Pierre Dupont. Oriental Art (Spring): 33-4. ____, 1997. Sculpture. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Revire, Nicolas, forthcoming. “Dvāravatī and Zhenla in the Seventh-Eighth Centuries: A Transregional Ritual Complex.” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies. Royal Asiatic Society, 1995. “Wales bequest to the Society.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 3rd ser., 5 (1): pp. 169-170. Singer, Noel F., 2008. Vaishali and the Indianization of Arakan. New Delhi: APH. Smitthi Siribhadra and Mayurie Veraprasert, 1990. Thaplang / Lintels: A Comparative study of Khmer Lintels in Thailand and Cambodia [text in Thai and English]. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department. Somkiat Lophetcharat, 1997. Phraphuttharup samai Rattanakosin / Rattanakosin Buddha. Bangkok: Watthuboran [text in Thai with English summaries]. Southworth, William Aelred, 2001. The origins of Campā in central Vietnam: A preliminary review. Doctoral Dissertation. London: School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London [unpublished]. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Srinivasan, Sharada, 2013. “Techno-cultural Perspectives on Medieval Southeast Asia and Southern India: Pallava Bronzes and Beyond.” In Marijke J. Klokke and Véronique Degroot (eds.), Materializing Southeast Asia’s Past. Selected Papers from the 12th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, vol. 2. Singapore: National University of Singapore Press, pp. 167-178. Subhadradis Diskul, M.C., 1962. Appendix. In George Cœdès, Samut nam chom borannawatthu sathan Tambon Phongtuk læ puchaniyasathan Phrathæn Dong Rang Amphoe Tha Maka Changwat Kanchanaburi / Guide to Antiquities at Tambol Pong Tuk and Pra Thaen Dong Rang in Tha Maka District, Province of Kanchanaburi. Bangkok: Thailand Fine Arts Department, pp. 109-111 [text in Thai and English]. Thomsen, Margrit, 1982. “Südasien.” In Ferne Völker, frühe Zeiten: Kunstwerke aus dem Linden-Museum Stuttgart, Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, vol. 2, Orient, Südasien, Ostasien. Recklinghausen: Verlag Aurel Bongers, pp. 105-186. Tiffin, Sarah and Martin Stuart-Fox, 2002. “The Dvaravati ‘Buddha on a Monster Stelae: A Possible Interpretation.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 3rd ser. 12 (1): pp. 47-65. Trần Kỳ Phương, 2013. Crossing Boundaries – Learning from the Past to Build the Future: An Archaeological Collaboration between Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. Chiang Mai: The Regional Center for Social Science and Sustainable Development (RCSD), Chiang Mai University. Vickery, Michael, 1998. Society, Economics, and Politics in Pre-Angkor Cambodia: The 7th-8th Centuries. Tokyo: The Centre for East Asian Cultural Studies for Unesco, The Toyo Bunko. Wannasarn Noonsuk, 2013. Tambralinga and Nakhon Si Thammarat: Early Kingdoms on the Isthmus of Southeast Asia. Nakhon Si Thammarat: Nakhon Si Thammarat Rajabhat University. Wheatley, Paul, 1961. The Golden Khersonese: Studies in the Historical Geography of the Malay Peninsula before A.D. 1500. Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press. Woodward, Hiram W., Jr., 2005. The Art and Architecture of Thailand: From Prehistoric Times through the Thirteenth Century, 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill [first edition published in 2003]. Zéphir, Thierry, 1996. “The Progress of Rama: The Ramayana in Khmer Bas-reliefs of the Angkor Period.” In Jill Tillden (ed.), Silk and Stone: The Art of Asia. London: Hali, 1996, pp. 80-89. Website. Inscriptions in Thailand Database: http://www.sac.or.th/databases/ inscriptions/.

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Rajadhiraj’s Rangoon Relics and a Mon Funerary Stupa Donald M. Stadtner Abstract—At the conclusion of the Second Anglo-Burmese War (18521853), derelict brick monuments were cleared to construct barracks at the foot of the hill capped by the Shwedagon Pagoda in Rangoon (Yangon). One stupa disclosed nine objects, the most important of which were three gold reliquaries, a band incised with a fifteen-line record in Pali and a bowl containing twentyone bone fragments. The incised band can be attributed to the Mon king, Rajadhiraj (reigned c. 1384 – c. 1420), whose capital was ancient Hamsavati, or modern Pegu (Bago). As the sole inscription associated with this leading Mon ruler, the band marks a significant addition to less than a handful of surviving records from the 14th and early 15th centuries in Lower Burma (Myanmar). The Pali inscription recorded religious donations occasioned by the cremation of Rajadhiraj’s queen. The bone fragments within the bowl are likely the queen’s, suggesting that the stupa was a funerary monument. The three gold reliquaries were probably produced in Lower Burma but share affinities with Sri Lankan examples. Reliquaries imported from Sri Lanka, and from Eastern India, probably played an incalculable role in shaping designs of Southeast Asian reliquaries and also brick and stone stupas. This treasure-trove has been the subject of occasional notices, but a fresh examination is merited in view of its importance for understanding Mon civilization and funerary traditions in Southeast Asia during the 14th and 15th centuries.

The discovery The objects were uncovered on 13 April 1855, while “leveling one of the pagodas on the Eastern heights (the site of the new European Barracks)” (Sykes 1860: 299).1 Old maps and descriptions indicate that these barracks were located “about a quarter of a mile” southeast of the Shwedagon Pagoda (St. John 1895: 201). The brick stupa enshrining the relics was among a “forest of small pagodas” inside This important trove has been largely overlooked since Sykes’ summary of the finds in 1860. The gold helmet was included in a catalogue published by the Victoria and Albert Museum (Lowry 1974) which was followed by an article in which the gold band was incorrectly attributed to Dhammaceti and the gold helmet to Banya Thaw, or Queen Shinsawbu (Singer 1992).

1

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the earthen ramparts southeast of the Shwedagon in the mid-19th century (Grant 1995: 29). Three or four small stupas appearing in this area on a map dated to 1852 certainly stood for many more (Khin Maung Nyunt 2000: 34) (Fig. 7). Hundreds of brick stupas dotted the Rangoon landscape in the 19th century, but only a score or so were in good repair and under worship, such as the Shwedagon, Sule and Botataung (Grierson 1825; Grant 1995). The small but impressive treasure-trove was sent to Calcutta and then on to the East Indian Company’s Court of Directors in London where they entered the Company’s museum by 1856. The items were exhibited at a meeting of the Royal Asiatic Society in June 1857, and subsequently noted by Col. W. H. Sykes in the Society’s journal in 1860. The objects were thereafter transferred by 1879 to the South Kensington Museum, London (later the Victoria and Albert Museum), apart from the gold band whose whereabouts remains unknown but whose text was included as an eye-copy in the aforementioned journal (Sykes 1860: Pl. IV) (Fig. 6). Nine objects were enumerated in Sykes’ article: “Model of a gold pagoda [reliquary] in three pieces, a larger ditto in four pieces, smaller ditto in three pieces (imperfect), gold helmet set in jewels (broken), gold tassel, gold leaf scroll, small gold cup with ruby on top, gold belt set with jewels, gold bowl with cover.” (Sykes 1860: 299). Only four of the nine are now accounted for, all in the Victoria and Albert Museum.2 The gold bowl contained twenty-one blackened and calicined bone fragments. The objects were created by the repoussé technique in which gold sheets were formed in the desired shape and then hammered from one side, resulting in raised ornamentation on the exterior. Since the sheets are thin, finished objects are easily subject to breakage. Repoussé was practiced throughout India and Southeast Asia from early in the first millennium and was also used widely during Pagan’s classic period (c. 11th – c. 13th centuries). However, these objects from Rangoon are the only significant surviving examples of repoussé in Lower Burma between the 13th and 16th centuries.3 In Thailand, by contrast, numerous specimens of gold repoussé have been recorded during the same period, notably those interred within the crypts The gold objects in the museum are the stupa (height 13.5 inches), the helmet (height 7.5 inches), a tassel of sixteen stems, and a small bowl with lid containing bone fragments. The waist belt set with 71 stones (length 27 inches), the gold cup and the smallest stupa (fragmentary) (height 2.5 inches) went missing from the museum long ago. The only illustration of the belt is found in Sykes’ lithograph (Pls. I, III) (Fig. 1). The complete gold stupa, de-accessioned in 1958, was 14.5 inches in height, 7.5 inches in diameter and was set with 24 rubies (Fig. 3). The twenty-one irregularly shaped bone fragments vary in size, from just under 1 inch in length to slightly more than 2 inches. 3 The Botataung Pagoda, Rangoon, provides a rare instance of an excavated relic chamber. A stupashaped stone casket contained a small stone image of the ‘fat monk’, probably Gavampati, and a tiny gold repoussé stupa with a single seated Buddha on each side of its base; inside were two small bone fragments, together with a hair relic coated in lacquer (Luce 1985: Fig. 72; Stadtner 2011: 115). The repoussé stupa is of crude workmanship but is one of the few surviving examples from this age in Lower Burma. 2

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Figure 1. Rangoon treasure-trove, lithograph. After Sykes, Pl. I

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Figure 2 (above). Gold Reliquary. c. 1400 – c. 1420. h. 13 ½ inches. Courtesy: Victoria and Albert Museum Figure 3 (opposite). Gold Reliquary, inset with 24 rubies. h. 14 ¼ inches. Whereabouts unknown. Courtesy: Victoria and Albert Museum

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Figure 4 (above). Gold helmet, inset with precious stones. c. 1400 – c. 1420. h. 7 ½ inches. Courtesy: Victoria and Albert Museum Figure 5 (left). Gold bowl, with lid, containing twenty-one bone fragments. c. 1400 – c. 1420 Courtesy: Victoria and Albert Museum

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Figure 6. Eye-copy of gold band inscription. After Sykes, Pl. 4 Figure 7. Rangoon, 1852. Sule Pagoda, circled. After Khin Maung Nyunt, p. 34

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Figure 8 (above). Ayutthaya gold reliquary, inset with precious stones. Wat Ratchaburana, c. 1424. After Prathum, p. 24. Figure 9 (top right). Reliquaries, Adu Aludeniya, c. 14th century. Colombo Museum. Courtesy: Sanjeeva Rambukwella Figure 10 (below). Reliquary set, silver and gold. Wat Phraphut, Narathiwat Province. c. 11th – c. 14th century. After Piriya, Pl. XIII Figure 11 (right). Gilded reliquary. Possibly from crypt of Sa Si stupa, c. 12 – c.14th century. Sukhothai Museum. Courtesy: Paisarn Piammettawat

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of two temples at Ayutthaya: Wat Mahathat, c. 1374 (Prathum 2005), and Wat Ratchaburana, c. 1424 (Pattaratorn 2005). The principal items in the Rangoon trove were shown in a lithograph included in the Society’s journal (Fig. 1). The brick background, together with untamed vegetation, imparts the impression of a fresh discovery, but perhaps the objects were artificially arranged to create a ‘picturesque’ effect. A cloth covering seems to have once fitted over the gold helmet. The ringed spire of the stupa, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum, was broken off at the top and never recovered; the smallest stupa retained only its base, visible on the bottom right (Fig. 1). Since the relic chamber was not invested by treasure-seekers, this breakage probably occurred when the enveloping brick stupa was dismantled. All the items were acquired by the South Kensington Museum in 1879, the year the East India Company collection was transferred to the museum. Most were “exhibited in a case”, at least by the mid-1890s (St. John 1895: 199). The gold belt and gold cup with a ruby on its cover were in the museum in 1895 but cannot be traced today (St John 1895: 201). The complete stupa reliquary was de-accessioned in 1958, for unknown reasons, but was captured in a black-and-white photograph (Fig. 3). Its present whereabouts is unknown. The only well-known object from the assemblage is the gold helmet (Lowry 1974: 28) (Fig. 4).

The incised gold band The Pali scholar, V. Fausböll, inspected the gold band at the Royal Asiatic Society, London, in 1858 and prepared a translation that Sykes included in the article of 1860. An eye-copy of the inscription was also appended to the translation, one that Fausböll probably produced himself (Sykes 1860: pl. IV) (Fig. 6). The characters of the inscription relate only loosely to modern Burmese, but Fausböll completed his translation from the original band, judging from one of his endnotes. The Pali record, with diacritical marks, was included with Fausböll’s translation. By 1895, however, the incised band went missing in London. Fausböll reported, thirty-five years after the publication of his translation, that the band had been handdelivered to him in 1858 at the “Asiatic Society’s Rooms”, removed from the East India House Library for his examination; he conjectures that the gold strip “must now be kept in either the India Office Library or in the Indian Museum attached to it.” (St. John 1895: 433). The band probably remains in London, perhaps now in The British Library, which absorbed the holdings of the India Office Library, or in a cabinet at the Royal Asiatic Society. Sykes presented two translations, one by Capt. T. S. Sparks made in 1855 and the other completed by Fausböll in 1858. Both translations differed markedly, but similarities prove that the two translators worked from the same inscription. Sparks’ reading was beset by numerous errors, while Fausböll’s was generally correct. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Sparks, for example, read a date (846), written not in numerals but in words; he then converted 846 to the Burmese Era, producing 1484-1485. How Sparks was misled is easy to appreciate, since he mistook atta for aṭṭha (eight) and settha for saṭṭhi (sixty) and so on (Tun Aung Chain, personal communication). Fausböll’s translation appears in the Appendix, with minor emendations. The inscription opens with the donor described as “the son of Setebhissara”, or the son of the Lord of the White Elephant. The Pali compound is comprised of three words, seta (white), ibha (elephant) and issara (lord). The Lord of the White Elephant is a common royal epithet in Southeast Asia but was particularly associated in Mon chronicles and inscriptions with Banya U (reigned c. 1348 – c. 1384), the father of Rajadhiraj (Tun Aung Chain, personal communication). That Banya U is the only king to be described as Lord of the White Elephant in a list of Mon rulers in the Shwedagon Inscription is another strong reason for identifying Banya U with the holder of this title in the gold plate inscription (Pe Maung Tin 1934: 15, 20). Since the donor of the gold band states that he is the son of Setebhissara, that is, Banya U, then the band and the deposits can be associated with Rajadhiraj. Also, Rajadhiraj is explicitly described as “the son of the Lord of the White Elephant” in one Mon chronicle (Tun Aung Chain 2010: 51). The great Mon king, Dhammaceti (reigned c. 1470 – c. 1492), can be excluded as the donor of the gold band since his father did not belong to a royal family and hence could not have borne the title of Lord of the White Elephant. Banya U inherited a white elephant that was originally gifted by a king of Sukhothai to a Mon ruler in Mottama named Wareru (reigned c. 1287 – c. 1296), or Warow, known only to chronicles. The monarch from Sukhothai gifting the white elephant would have been the celebrated Ram Khamhaeng (reigned c. 1279 – c. 1299) (San Lwin 2007: 9; Tun Aung Chain 2010: 41). This palladium passed on to Wareru’s descendants, finally going to Banya U during whose reign the elephant expired. The gift of an elephant from Sukhothai is likely legendary, but Banyu U adopted the title of Lord of the White Elephant (see below). The connections between Sukhothai and Mottama, known as Bann in Thai epigraphs, are still to be worked out, but inscriptions and chronicles in Thailand attest to religious exchanges between Mottama and Sukhothai and with monks who had trained in Sri Lanka (Griswold & Prasert 1972; Pattaratorn 2009; Skilling 2007). Rajadhiraj is a Pali title, “king of kings”, and was adopted by many Mon rulers in Pegu. His personal sobriquet was Sutasoma Rajadhiraj, which appears both in inscriptions and in some Mon chronicles (Pe Maung Tin 1934: 15, 20). Sutasoma enjoyed regional status and was mistakenly conflated with Wareru in at least two Thai chronicles (Wyatt & Aroonrut 1998: 36-37; Griswold and Prasert 1972: 55). The name Sutasoma was adapted from a Jātaka, Mahāsutasoma (no. 537), in which the bodhisatta, Sutasoma, persuaded a man-eating monarch named Porisād to reform his diet. Rajadhiraj adopted this name when a Burmese prince defiantly proclaimed Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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himself Porisād, emulating the king who relished defeating and then eating other rulers (San Lwin 2007: 124, 174). The relationships between Banya U, Rajadhiraj and their descendents are indicated in the genealogy below, based on later chronicles and Mon inscriptions (Tun Aung Chain 2002: 38). Mon kings ruling from Pegu 1. Banya U (accession, Mottama, 1348) 2. Rajadhiraj, son of 1 3. Dhammaraja, son of 2 4. Banya Ramkuit, brother of 3 5. Banya Barow, grandson of 2 6. Banya Kendaw, son of 3 7. Mamohtau, brother of 6 8. Banya Thaw (Shinsawbu) daughter of 2, mother of 5 9. Dhammaceti, son-in-law of 8 10. Banya Ram, son of 9 11. Dakaratpi, son of 10

1369-1384 1384-1420 1420-1423 1423-1446 1446-1450 1450-1453 1453 1453-1470 1470-1492 1492-1526 1526-1538

Fausböll first misinterpreted the Pali title Setebhissara, or Lord of the White Elephant, but the correct meaning was advanced years later by R.F. St. Andrew St. John, an antiquarian familiar with Lower Burma. He was also the first to correctly associate the epithet with Banya U and the gold band with Rajadhiraj, identifications endorsed in the same year by Fausböll (St. John 1895).4 The most common Mon term for Lord of the White Elephant in 15th century Mon inscriptions was tila ciṅ batāṅ, with minor variations (Shorto 1971: 172). Banya U is described as Lord of the White Elephant in the sole surviving stone inscription from his reign, a Mon and Pali epigraph discovered in 1998 in the Twante township, about twenty miles west of Rangoon (Bauer 2012). The object of the inscription was to record that in 724 (Burmese Era), or 1362, Banya U erected a structure, or “prāsada” (the Sanskrit word is used), associated with Kyaik Jra-ngam, probably a stupa named Jra-ngam once located in the village in which the inscription was found (Bauer 2012; Christian Bauer, personal communication). This is the earliest Mon inscription belonging to the line of kings ruling from Pegu. Following this record dated to 1362, there is a hiatus of extant Mon inscriptions for at least forty years until the gold band inscription of Banya U’s successor, Rajadhiraj. The next dated Mon inscription does not appear until many decades later, in 1455, the Kyaikmaraw stone inscription of Banya Thaw, or Queen Shinsawbu. Such a paucity Lowry almost certainly read these brief notices by St. John and Fausböll, since he tentatively but correctly identified the son of Banya U as Rajadhiraj (Lowry: 1974: 28).

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of early Mon inscriptions adds to the importance of the incised band. The aforementioned Twante inscription also recorded the year of Banya U’s accession, 710 (Burmese Era), or 1348, a date in agreement with most of the chronicles (Tun Aung Chain 2011: 48; Halliday 2000: 97). Banya U is said in the chronicles to have shifted the capital from Mottama to Pegu in 1369, but this donation of 1362 near Twante makes it certain that he patronized monuments in the Rangoon area at least seven years before the king’s alleged shift from Mottama to Pegu. Another reason to connect the gold band with Rajadhiraj is the king’s description of himself in the inscription as “a lion towards hostile barbarians”, or “sattumātangakesara”, an appellation consistent with his reputation as a leader defending Mon sovereignty. This epithet, whose first occurrence appears in the gold band, was likely echoed in later chronicles in which he was termed Sīharājā, or Lion King (Halliday 2000: 98; Tun Aung Chain 2010: 51; San Lwin 2007: 174). A pair of additional titles found in the gold band reinforces Rajadhiraj’s reputation as a leading Mon monarch, such as King of All Kings (“sabbārājissarorajā”) and Lord of All Kings (“sabhārajinda”) (Sykes 1860: 302). That these three epithets figure in no other 15th century Mon inscriptions underscores the likely association of the gold band with Rajadhiraj.

Re-evaluating Rajadhiraj Rajadhiraj and Dhammaceti are considered the two most important kings in Mon history, the former for defending the Mon realm from forces from Inwa, or Ava, and the latter for his reform of the saṅgha. Apart from Banya U’s aforementioned stone inscription of 1362 and the undated gold band from Rangoon, the history of this formative stage of Mon history has until now relied entirely on later chronicles. The gold band inscription however discloses important facets of Rajadhiraj’s career that prompt re-thinking his biography known hitherto only from later chronicles. The chief source for Rajadhiraj is the acclaimed Mon chronicle, Akran Kamraulwī Rājadhirāj, known more widely in its Burmese translation, Yazadarit Ayedawbon, or Struggles of Rajadhiraj (Nai Pan Hla 1977; San Lwin 2007; Fernquest 2006). This text and later Mon histories extol the king’s military feats, especially the outmaneuvering of his nemesis, Mingaung (reigned c. 1400 – c. 1422) (San Lwin 2007; Halliday 2000: 97-98; Tun Aung Chain 2010: 50-51). The chronicle traditions focus on the king’s military feats, while his patronage of the saṅgha receives scant mention, a picture challenged by the evidence of the gold band inscription (see below). Moreover, the chronicles record conflict between Prince Rajadhiraj and his father’s household in Mottama, but no such discord appears in the gold band inscription in which Rajadhiraj in fact pays homage to Banya U (Tun Aung Chain 2010: 50-51; San Lwin 2007). Neither the gold band inscription nor the stone inscription of 1362 makes Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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reference to Wareru, the purported founder of the dynasty in Mottama, known only to chronicles. If Wareru was so pivotal in Mon history, then how to explain his absence in all of the Mon inscriptions from this entire era? Indeed, such silence casts doubt on both the very historicity of Wareru and the assertion in the chronicles that the Mon capital was first in Mottama and then later shifted to Pegu. It is likely that the chroniclers sought to link the regional prestige of Mottama, a major commercial and religious hub, with the dynasty that formed in Pegu around the middle of the 14th century by Banya U. Mottama certainly had religious connections with Sukhothai, but perhaps later chroniclers wove a semi-legendary or fictitious king named Wareru into a narrative linking Sukhothai and Mottama to Pegu. By Dhammceti’s time Mottama was firmly within the Mon realm, the city’s long monastic history summarized in the Kalyani Inscription. Ascribing a specific date to the incised band during Rajadhiraj’s thirty-six year reign is not possible. However, the cremation of his unnamed queen can perhaps provide a clue in as much as the deceased was likely the chief queen. This marriage probably occurred at the beginning of Rajadhiraj’s reign, since a king’s marriage to his chief queen usually occurred soon after his accession (Tun Aung Chain, personal communication). Some of Rajadhiraj’s children are named in chronicles but their mothers are unidentified; the four daughters of the gold band are probably children from different wives and were likely adolescents upon entering the monastery. The gold band inscription also recorded that Rajadhiraj himself joined the monastic life once and his late queen twice. Taken together, these factors suggest that the enshrinement of the relics perhaps occurred between the middle and end of his reign, say c. 1400 – c. 1420. The characters of the inscription, known only from the eye-copy published in 1860, offer few indications concerning its date (Fig. 6). Mon inscriptions, with their peculiar orthographic conventions, can be dated far more accurately than those composed in Pali; however, the paleography of the incised band suggests that it belongs sometime between the 14th and 16th centuries (Christian Bauer, personal communication).

The royal donations The object of the gold band inscription was to record Rajadhiraj’s extensive benefactions made to the saṅgha occasioned by the queen’s cremation. The principal donations included sixty cottages for senior monks (“kuṭi”), twenty-six monasteries (“vihāra”), nine stupas (“thūpa”) and four ordination halls (“baddhasīmā”) (Sykes 1860: 303).5 These monuments have left no trace but they were perhaps constructed Kuṭi likely indicates individual cottages for senior monks but it may mean “rest houses” for pilgrims and worshippers. The same term is used often in inscriptions at Sukhothai where it refers to a cottage for a senior monk (Griswold and Prasert 1969: 45).

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in the vicinity of Shwedagon. The grant was maintained by donated agricultural land, together with 378 measures, or ticals, of gold (“suvaṇṇa”), 2,500 of silver (“rūpiyā”) and 5,200 of copper (“kansas”, commonly known as ganza). Other gifted items to the saṅgha included one hundred white umbrellas and two gold covered kammavācās (manuscripts containing special Pali passages). Also, five hundred slaves were liberated and enrolled into monastic life (Sykes 1860: 303). These donations occurred after Rajadhiraj performed a “pūjā” [a ceremony] to her hair five times”, a ritual otherwise unknown in Mon or Burmese historical sources and in neighbouring Thailand. The practice of making donations at the time of a royal cremation enjoyed a long history in Theravada societies. In Sri Lanka, for example, king Parakramabahu I (reigned c. 1153 - c. 1186) commemorated his mother’s cremation by constructing a stupa at the site of the funeral pyre, coupled with numerous additional religious donations (Geiger 2003: Pt. II.122). Chronicles associated with Ayutthaya record a number of instances of religious monuments that were established on the sites of cremations (Cushman 2000: 11, 15, 16). In Chiang Mai the cremation of a princess at a monastery in 1522 occasioned a presentation of silk robes to monks and the construction of a library; in addition, more than two hundred individuals were ordained, mirroring the mass ordinations known from Rajadhiraj’s incised band (Jayawickrama 1968: 180). Hence, the king’s donations in Rangoon at the time of the cremation reflect long-standing Theravada traditions. Rajadhiraj’s incised gold sheet interred within a funerary monument also finds analogies in Thailand. One gold band, dated to 1385, was probably placed inside a relic chamber in a “square cetiya” (square base stupa) containing the corporal remains of a king at Sukhothai; the donor was a celebrated monk, Mahāsāmī Saṅgharāja, from Mottama (Griswold & Prasert 1973: 128). Another incised gold band was found inside the chief gold reliquary stupa at the aforementioned Wat Ratchaburana; on both sides was written the name and possible title of a Brahman ritualist (Pattaratorn 2005: 88-89). Wat Ratchaburana was built to commemorate the cremation site of two royal brothers, according to two later chronicles. Another example, an unpublished incised gold sheet in the Sukhothai museum, refers to a ceremony for interring unspecified corporal remains. In Sri Lanka, inscribed metal plaques were also deposited in stupas (Paranavitana 1946: 24). Gold sheets were also reserved for noteworthy communications, such as a gold letter, or “suvaṇṇapatta”, sent from Dhammaceti to his counterpart in Sri Lanka (Taw Sein Ko 1893: 41). The twenty-one calicined bone fragments found within the gold bowl were almost certainly extracted from the queen’s funeral pyre; the largest bones measured slightly over two inches in length (Fig. 5).6 The other objects in the trove, such as the Bone relics associated with the Buddha were normally far smaller. These were thought to be in three small sizes, that of “mustard seeds, broken grains of rice and split green peas”, a formulaic classification begun as early as Buddhaghosa (Strong: 11). An inscription from Keng Tung, 1451, relates directly to this description (Griswold & Prasert 1978: 85); also, an inscription, 1399, from

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gold belt studded with gems and the gold helmet, can plausibly be identified as the queen’s personal effects. A direct analogy are the many objects of a personal nature, such as jewellery and vessels, found within a special chamber at Wat Ratchaburana c. 1424 (Pattaratorn 2005). The gold band contains the only reference to a royal cremation among Mon inscriptions. Cremations are also rarely referred to in Mon chronicles; even the cremation of the celebrated Dhammaceti receives scant mention (Tun Aung Chain 2010: 102). One Mon chronicle refers to the bones of a cremated noble placed in a golden urn buried on the platform of the Shwedagon, but such references are rare (San Lwin 2007: 79). Royal funerary stupas however were probably built in the vicinity of the Shwedagon Pagoda and the Shwemawdaw Pagoda in Pegu, but none have survived or are recorded. In contrast to Mon sources, Burmese chronicles routinely recorded the deaths of royal court members and their place of cremation but no mention is made of the final disposition of corporal remains (Tun Aung Chain, personal communication). An exception is King Mindon (reigned 1853-1878) whose tomb stands near the restored palace in Mandalay. Thailand furnishes far greater information about funerary stupas during the th 14 and 15th centuries, both in chronicles and inscriptions (Jayawickrama 1968: 147,180; Griswold & Prasert 1969: 47; Cushman 2000: 15, 18). One epigraph for example records permission for a neighbouring king to enter Sukhothai in order to pay homage to a stupa containing the relics of a deceased king (Griswold and Prasert 1970: 92). A poem associated with the Ayutthaya court records that a “grieving son …. erected a stupa for [the relics of]” of his father, the late king (Griswold and Prasert 1976:143). The remains of King Borommatrailokanat and his son were enshrined in 1492 inside a stupa at Wat Phra Si Sanphet, Ayutthaya (Santi 2005: 61). The ashes of the celebrated King Tiloka (reigned c. 1441-1487) were interred in a newly built stupa, a brick monument still standing in the compound of Wat Chet Yod, Chiang Mai. (Jayawickrama 1968: 147). Hence, the evidence in ancient Thailand suggests that funerary stupas were constructed with some frequency, providing a contrast to the meager examples known in Burma. By the Rattanakosin period (1782 - present) funerary stupas containing the remains of kings became customary, witnessed by four enormous stupas commemorating the first four kings of the Chakri Dynasty in the compound of Wat Phra Chettuphon, or Wat Pho, Bangkok. A recent royal cremation was for the sister of King Rama IX in 2008, with six processions, the last of which culminated with the interment of the cremated remains in a stupa at Wat Ratchabophit. The gold band inscription is in addition the only Mon record attesting to Sukhothai describes two relics from Sri Lanka as “middle-sized like a broken rice grain, like crystal” and the second as “small as a mustard-seed” and coloured like the bikula (Mimusops elengi; bakul, Sanskrit), fruit or flower; this description of the relics is repeated twice, on both faces of the stone panel (Griswold & Prasert 1969: 44, 52). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Mon monarchs, their queens and their children enlisting in monasteries. The pious Dhammaceti never entered the saṅgha during his reign but was a monk only before becoming king, according to chronicles. Sukhothai period inscriptions furnish instances in which the king and other relatives entered a monastery for a period and then returned to royal duties (Griswold & Prasert 1971: 202). This practice was also known in 15th century Chiang Mai (Jayawickrama 1968: 136). The gold band inscription concluded with the donor’s wish that his good works would be rewarded by his becoming a Buddha, a theme echoed in Dhammaceti’s Kalyani Inscription of 1476 and in certain Sukhothai inscriptions (Skilling 2007: 192-193; Patrick Pranke, personal communication).

The three gold reliquaries The study of stupa-shaped reliquaries in Southeast Asia, India and Sri Lanka in the first half of the second millennium is in its infancy despite a great number of surviving examples. Many are without firm provenances, in as much as they were removed in the course of unauthorized digs and are now in museums and private collections. Also, reliquaries, even those recovered in sanctioned excavations, may have often been produced in locations quite distant from their find spots. In addition, less than a handful of examples from this entire age in Burma, Thailand and Sri Lanka can be dated with much precision or certainty, a fact enhancing the significance of the three gold stupas from Rangoon attributed here to the early 15th century on the basis of the gold band inscription.7 Stupa-shaped reliquaries played a number of diverse functions, only one of which was to contain corporal remains. The three gold reliquaries from Rangoon for instance contained no bodily remains but were merely among the precious objects interred with the queen’s bones. The stupa-shaped gold reliquary found in one of the crypts at Wat Ratchaburana, c. 1424, was also empty (Pattaratorn 2005: 89) (Fig. 8). Other evidence for empty containers in the shape of stupas are the portable offerings sent by Dhammaceti from Pegu to honor the famous Tooth Relic in Sri Lanka. These included a “golden relic container” (“suvaṇṇamaya-dhātu-mandira”, Pali) fashioned in the shape of a stupa (“cetiya”, Pali), “a relic-receptacle made of crystal” and a “stone alms-bowl, embellished with sapphires of great value”; whether the ‘golden relic container’ was a work of repoussé or a gilded bronze is unknown (Taw Sein Ko These from Rangoon and the gold casket from a crypt at Wat Ratchaburana, c. 1424, (Pattaratorn 2005) are among the few examples that can be dated with a degree of certainty. Others would include eight stupa-shaped objects of diminishing size, one placed inside the other, excavated from a stupa within the compound of Wat Phra Si Sanphet, Ayutthaya, a set likely dating to the late 15th century, with shapes conforming closely to Sri Lankan designs (Subhadradis 1981: Fig. 105). Another set, comprised of seven caskets, was found in the crypt at Wat Mahathat, Ayutthaya, c. 14th century. No metal reliquaries in Sri Lanka from this period can be dated with much precision. 7

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1893: 40, 207). These objects, without relics, were likely placed in the immediate vicinity of the Tooth Relic reliquary. Upon receipt of these offerings, the Sri Lankan king set the Tooth Relic temporarily inside the “golden vessel” (suvaṇṇamaya-patta, Pali) from Pegu (Taw Sein Ko 1893: 43, 210). The same practice is noted in the following century when Bayinnaung (reigned c. 1551 – c. 1581) also sent an empty reliquary to Sri Lanka for temporary enshrinement of the Tooth Relic (Tun Aung Chain 2004: 108). Even in the late 19th century an elaborate metal reliquary crafted in Moulmein was transported on a steamship to Colombo to offer to the relic in Kandy (Stadtner 2011: 183). These examples underscore the enduring ties between Upper and Lower Burma with Sri Lanka. One Pali term for a reliquary was “karaṇḍa”, known in religious chronicles of Sri Lanka (Geiger 1986: 211; Strong 2004: 128, 136; Paranavitana 1946: 24). These objects normally contained relics and were interred within stupas or they could be presented, without relics, to monasteries as donations, to judge from a late 10th or 11th century stone inscription from Mihintale, Sri Lanka. This record speaks of both a “registrar of caskets” (karaṇḍa-lēkhaka, Pali) and a “keeper of caskets” (karaṇḍuatsamu, Pali). A special structure in this monastery preserved the reliquaries and was termed the “reliquary house”, or dhātu-gēha (Pali) (Wickremasinghe 1904: 101-102). The context makes it clear that this “reliquary house” was for the safe storage of caskets and was not a stupa. It can be conjectured that the laity presented empty caskets, as offerings, that were placed in a special structure located within the monastic compound. Reliquaries were fashioned from a variety of materials, such as bronze, crystal, stone, silver, gold, and even stoneware. One reliquary assigned to 15th century Thailand even combined a metal base and an ivory finial.8 Some are only a few inches in height, while the largest in Thailand is a gilded bronze standing nearly three feet in height, now in the Sukhothai museum and said to be found in the crypt of Wat Sa Si, Sukhothai, attributed to the 14th century (Fig. 11) (Rooney 2008: 86). Also, the shape of reliquaries and their ornamentation varied widely (Figs. 8-11). Indeed, no two reliquaries are identical, even those belonging to the same hoard. The three gold stupas in the Rangoon trove for example appear similar but differences emerge upon closer inspection, such as the disposition of the encircling bands below the drum. (Figs.1-3). One enduring tradition was the interment of superimposed stupa-shaped objects of diminishing sizes (Strong 2004: 13, 110; Geiger 1986: 211). The relic itself was placed in the smallest, innermost casket, usually made of the most precious materials, such as gold or crystal. Such sets of caskets are known from inscriptions at Pagan but no complete examples have been located (Than Tun 1978: 131). An inscription from Keng Tung, dated 1451, speaks of a graduated series of six containers made of gem 8

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crystal, gold, silver, sandalwood, ivory and copper (Griswold & Prasert 1978: 83-84). Sets of reliquaries have survived at Ayutthaya, at Wat Phra Si Sanphet (Subhadradis: 1981: Fig. 105), Wat Ratchaburana, c. 1442 (Pattaratorn 2005) and Wat Mahathat (Pratum 2005: 21). Another was found at Wat Praphut, Narathiwat Province, comprised of an outer silver container, seven inches in height, containing two smaller gold caskets; it has been attributed to the c. 11th - c. 13th centuries (Piriya 1980: 222; Jacq-Hergoualc’h 2002: Fig. 209) (Fig. 10).9 Many single caskets in museums likely once belonged to dispersed sets but it is usually impossible to be certain. The influential role that Sri Lanka played in determining the shapes of Southeast Asian stupas has long been recognized, but the details of this complex transmission are not completely understood. The process began at least as early as the 11th century in Burma, at Pagan, with brick stupas revealing Sri Lankan influence, sometimes side by side with examples exhibiting features from Eastern India.10 Traveling architects or monks may have been the prime instigators of such influence, but it is more likely that portable reliquaries imported from Sri Lanka to Southeast Asia played a far greater role in furnishing the prototypes than has hitherto been suggested. Sri Lankan stupas are marked by well established characteristics: three prominent parallel rings encircling the dome at the base, a broad rectangular block capping the dome which supported a wide solid circular shaft that was in turn surmounted by a tapered finial comprised of tightly spaced rings of diminishing sizes (Paranavitana 1946; Gatellier 1978). The base is designed with elephants arranged in a frontal position in some cases. Many of these basic features have been observed among numerous brick stupas at Pagan. However, Pagan period architects largely rejected both Sri Lankan and East Indian forms and favored an indigenous design in which the wide diminishing rings of the spire emerged directly above the dome, without a crowning block; there are also no prominent bands encircling the base of the drum. Among the best known examples at Pagan are the Mingalazedi and Shwezigon stupas. The Shwedagon stupa in Rangoon also largely follows this basic contour, testimony to the endurance of this design. Although Sri Lanka influence waned by the end of the Pagan period, celebrated Sri Lankan stupas at Anuradhapura directly inspired at least two monuments in Burma, The photograph here shows only two stupas but a third, innermost gold casket, in the shape of a stupa, was included in another photograph (Sujit 1988: 23). 10 The earliest examples would include the West and East Hpetleik temples, the former showing influence from Eastern India, the latter from Sri Lanka. The best example of Sri Lankan influence at Pagan is the huge Sitana-gyi stupa (no. 987), complete with small elephants around the square base. A bronze reliquary probably imported from Eastern India to Pagan was discovered long ago at Pagan (Luce 1969: III. 449a); it closely resembles a metal reliquary attributed to Eastern India, in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (accession number 1982.460.3) and many reliquaries associated with Tibet (Zwalf 1985: Fig.198). Reliquaries from Nagapattinam, Tamil Nadu, may have been known in Burma but none have been found; their design shows Sri Lankan elements but also unique features (Ramachandran 2005: nos. 70-75). 9

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both attested to by accompanying inscriptions. One in Sagaing, dated to 1431, was said to be modeled after the famous Ratanaceitya (modern Ruwanwelisaya) built by King Dutthagamani (Than Tun 2004: 225). The other, the famous Kaung-hmudaw stupa near Sagaing, was described as resembling the Thuparama, although its shape bears no resemblance to the Sri Lankan Thuparama (the inscription is dated to 1650; Stadtner 2011: 237). Both stupas in Upper Burma were major royal donations and the Kaung-hmu-daw stupa ranks among the nation’s largest, highlighting the religious and cultural importance of Sri Lanka. Although the Sri Lankan-style stupa lost favor in Burma, it became ubiquitous in the Ayutthaya and Sukhothai realms and in subsequent periods, coexisting side by side with stupas based on entirely different indigenous designs (Gosling 1998; Santi 2005; Woodward 1993). Unlike in Burma, Sri Lankan-style stupas remained influential into the modern era, judging by the massive rebuilt central stupa at Nakhon Pathom and the Phra Sri Rattana Chedi within Bangkok’s palace compound. No Sri Lankan metal reliquaries from the middle of the second millennium can be securely dated by inscription, so comparisons with Southeast Asia examples must remain tenuous and tentative. However a partial parallel with the Rangoon reliquaries are unpublished bronze caskets in the Colombo museum that have been assigned to the Gampola period (1345-1406) (Fig. 9).11 This was an age that witnessed many connections among the saṅghas of Sri Lanka, Burma and Thailand. Affinities with the Rangoon examples include the same three bands at the base and the large rectangular block crowning the dome. Unlike the Rangoon examples, the encircling bands are ornamented with simple incised foliate designs. Also, the complex and prominent base moldings of the Rangoon examples are completely absent in these Sri Lanka examples.12 This comparison indicates that these examples from Lower Burma adopted certain Sri Lankan features but verged sharply away from Sri Lankan models in other respects. Also, large reliquary stupas made by the repoussé technique are unknown in Sri Lanka during this period. The evidence leads therefore to the conclusion that the Rangoon reliquaries were likely produced in Lower Burma and were not imported from Sri Lanka. These reliquaries were discovered in 2004 within a ruinous brick stupa at Uda Aludeniya, a village near Kandy. Seven tiny bone fragments, each wrapped in gold foil, were found inside a gold dome-shaped object that was inside a silver stupa surrounded by twenty-two silver and gold seated Buddhas (T.K. Nimal P. de Silva, personal communication) (Fig. 9). A smaller third reliquary was part of the same hoard but it contained only a seated bronze Buddha. The surviving tapered spire of one of the Rangoon reliquaries is similar to Sri Lankan examples attributed to this period (Listopad 2003: 35, 36). Other reliquaries with clear connections to Sri Lanka are known in Rakhine, from Mrauk-U (Gutman 2001: Fig. 59). 12 The raised floral patterns encircling the base of the Rangoon repoussé reliquaries are similar to a certain number of bronze reliquaries associated with Sri Lanka (see Zwalf 1985: Fig. 214 and Coomaraswamy 1914: Pl. XXVII, 189). Bronxe reliquaries attributed to the Polonnauva period (993-1235) are designed with the three rings below the dome but are without the floral bands on the base (see Listopad 2003: pp. 34-35). 11

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Another reason pointing to a local origin is suggested by a motif found on one of the encircling bands of the example in the Victoria and Albert Museum (Fig. 2). This is the kīrtimukha (Sanskrit), or ‘face of glory’, a fanciful face spewing forth vegetal ornament. The motif began in India but is widely encountered throughout Southeast Asia. At Pagan, the kīrtimukha was used over the centuries, both in stucco and in mural painting, where the faces appear in a continuous horizontal row. The kīrtimukha is found in Sri Lanka but is generally employed alone, as a single motif, usually in the center of a doorway or above a Buddha image; the kīrtimukha never seems to have been used on reliquaries from Sri Lanka or from other parts of Southeast Asia.13 It must be said that the kīrtimukha motif, while common in Upper Burma, has not yet been noted in Lower Burma in the 15th century; but so little has survived in Lower Burma that this is scarcely surprising. One reliquary differing sharply from those from Rangoon and Sri Lanka is the aforementioned casket from Wat Ratchaburana, c. 1424 (Fig. 8). Not only are the three characteristic rings at the base absent but also the block capping the dome, two chief Sri Lankan features. Also, the elaborate bands of precious stones embedded within raised bands on the exterior finds no counterpart in other known examples. One possibly vital match with the Rangoon trove however is an inverted square motif adorning the lowest register. In the Ayutthaya example it alternates with a circular design, while in one of the Rangoon caskets it is placed between couchant lions (Figs. 2, 8). That this identical motif is used in an identical fashion in these two roughly contemporaneous examples is probably not coincidence and suggests a distant common origin. The source may be Sri Lanka but no similar examples have yet turned up among the known Sri Lankan reliquaries. The compelling similarity of this motif in the examples from Ayutthaya and Rangoon raises critical questions that can only be answered upon the discovery of additional reliquaries in Southeast Asia and Sri Lanka.

Conclusion Rajadhiraj’s Rangoon relics open a new window to better understanding the formative phase of the Mon kingdom which arose by the middle of the 14th century in Lower Burma. This celebrated Mon ruler, Rajadhiraj, has been previously known only from later chronicles, but the gold band inscription yields significant new information that challenges previous interpretations. Painted in the later chronicles as primarily a military leader, this inscription reveals that the king entered the monastic life once during his reign and that he was an active patron of the saṅgha. The gold band and the stone inscription dated to 1362 also provide convincing Another name, “kalā”, is also used for this motif. Connections between this motif in Sri Lanka and Thailand have been noted (Pattaratorn 2009: 184). 13

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evidence that the first two Mon rulers at Pegu, Banya U and his son Rajadhiraj, were sponsors of religious monuments in the Rangoon area, hitherto recorded only by the later Shwedagon Inscription and later Mon chronicles. This brief survey of stupa-shaped caskets from Burma, Thailand and Sri Lanka also underscores not only their tremendous diversity but also the need for a comprehensive documentation of reliquaries. These objects, though small in themselves, can shed much light on the larger issues in Southeast Asian history and civilization.

Appendix Pali Inscription (Fausböll translation) 1. Having bowed down to the Three Gems, that good (work which has been preformed) the by Ruler of the Lords of the whole World, the son of Setebhissara [Lord of the White Elephant], the Prince shining with faith and mercy, the fleet Sun. 2. That meritorious, spotless (work) done in conjunction with his Queen, will I, who am steadfast in the excellent commandments of the All-knowing, faithfully relate. 3. The King of Kings, endowed with faith, assumed the monkish habit once, the exalted Queen twice; living without desire, they both maintained pure lofty virtue. 4. The King, Ruler of all Kings, anxious for the Three Gems, caused his excellent four beautiful daughters to enter the monastic life. 5. The wise Lord of all kings, a lion toward hostile barbarians, having liberated 250 slaves, had them ordained priests. 6. When the faith-endowed Queen had gone to heaven, after conferring blessings, a like number of persons entered the religious life 7. The most faithful, glorious Lord of Kings having burnt on the pyre the most exalted of human beings, he made pūjā [a ceremony] to her hair five times. 8. Sixty fair cottages [kuṭi, rest houses, or individual cottages for senior monks], and twenty-six vihāras, four ramparts [baddasīmā, or ordination halls] and nine stupas were erected (by him). 9. A hundred domestic slaves, seventy-eight suvaṇṇas, two thousand three hundred (and) five hundred rupees were granted (by him). [this should read: 378 measures, or ticals, of gold (suvaṇṇa), and 2, 500 ticals of silver (rūpiyā)] 10. Two hundred kansas (goblets) and five thousand gananas, three thousand sukas were granted, and also three hundred ambanas of pepper. [should read: 5,200 of copper (ganza, not kansas or goblets). 11. A piece of land comprising one hundred fields was given for continued maintenance; one hundred and fifty daily meals were dressed [prepared] (by him) in his house. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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12. Also a hundred splendid (gold) handled white umbrellas, were offered (by him) and five hundreds sets of eight articles required for monks. 13. Having opened his granaries, gifts were given to the citizens, and two gold covered kammavāchas were provided (by him). 14. That Prince thus expresses his desire that such a good work should be rewarded: “For this good work may I be hereafter an incomparable Buddha;” 15. And while I am an incomparable Buddha may the most excellent and glorious Queen be my wife, may there not be such a separation for me in the worlds to come.” Acknowledgements Foremost thanks go to U Tun Aung Chain who first suggested that the gold band should be associated with Rajadhiraj. Also, without his assistance, I could not have filled in many historical blanks. For unraveling the trove’s accession history in the Victoria and Albert Museum, John Clarke was always there to answer questions. For matters relating to the Kalyani Inscription, I turned often to Jason Carbine and Patrick Pranke. For Mon epigraphy, Christian Bauer shared his customary insights. For providing comparisons from Sukhothai and Ayutthaya, I am indebted to Chedha Tingsanchali. For information relating to the Uda Aludeni reliquaries, I am grateful to T.K. Nimal P. de Silva. Thanks also to Robert Brown for kindly reviewing the completed manuscript.

References Bauer, Christian. 2012. “When did Middle Mon begin?” In Nathan Hill (ed.). Medieval Tibeto-Burman Languages. Leiden: Brill Coomaraswamy, A.K. 1978 [1914]. Bronzes from Ceylon, Chiefly in the Colombo Museum. Colombo: Colombo Museum. Cushman, Richard D. 2000. The Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya. David K. Wyatt (ed.). Bangkok: The Siam Society. Fausböll, V. 1895. “Setebhissara”, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, (New Series): 27, 2: 422-433. Fernquest, Jon 2006. “Rajadhirat’s Mask of Command: Military Leadership in Burma (c. 1348-1421).” SOAS Bulletin of Burma Research, 4,1: 1-19. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Gatellier, Marie. 1978. Le Stūpa et son décorï à Ceylon: Son influence en Thaïlande et en Birmanie.” Artibus Asiae, 40, 2/3: 177-203 Geiger, Wilhelm. 2003 [1929]. Culavamsa: Being the More Recent Part of the Mahavamsa. 2 Parts. New Delhi: Asian Educational Services. _____. 1986 [1960]. Culture of Ceylon in Mediaeval Times, Heinz Bechert (ed.). Stuttgart: Franze Steiner Verlag. ____. 1990 [1912]. The Mahavamsa or The Great Chronicle of Ceylon. Colombo: The Government Press. Gosling, Betty. 1998. A Chronology of Religious Architecture at Sukhothai. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Grierson, J. 1825. Twelve select views of the seat of war: Including views taken at Rangoon, Cachar and Andaman Island. Calcutta: Asiatic Lithographic Press. Gutman, Pamela. 2001. Burma’s Lost Kingdoms: Splendours of Arakan. Bangkok: Orchid Press Grant, Colesworthy. 1995 [1853]. Rough Pencillings of a Rough Trip to Rangoon in 1846. Bangkok: White Orchid Press Griswold, A. B. and Prasert na Nagara. 1969. “The Asokarama Inscription of 1399 A.D., Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 2.” Journal of the Siam Society, 57,1: 29-56. ____. 1970. “A Pact Between and Uncle and Nephew, Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 5.” Journal of the Siam Society, 58,1: 89-115. ____. 1971. “The Inscription of Vat Jan Lom, Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 8.” Journal of the Siam Society, 59,1: 189-208 ____. 1972. “King Lodaiya of Sukhodaya and his Contemporaries. Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 10.” Journal of the Siam Society, 60,1: 21-152 ____. 1973. “The Epigraphy of Mahadharmaraja I of Sukhodaya, Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 11, pt. II.” Journal of the Siam Society, 60, 2: 91-128 ____. 1974. “Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 12: Inscription 9.” Journal of the Siam Society, 62,1: 89-126 ____. 1976. “A Fifteenth-Century Siamese Historical Poem.” In (eds.) Cowan, C.D. and Wolters, O.W. Southeast Asian History and Historiography, pp. 123-163. Ithaca: Cornell University Press ____. 1978. “An Inscription from Keng Tung (1451 A.D.), Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 19.” Journal of the Siam Society, 66,1: 66-78 Halliday, Robert. 2000. The Mons of Burma and Thailand, Christian Bauer (ed.) Bangkok: White Lotus Press Jacq-Hergoulc’h, M. 2002. The Malay Peninsula: Crossroad of the Maritime Silk Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Road (100 B.C. – 1300 A.D). Leiden: Brill Jayawickrama, N.A. 1968. The Sheaf of Garlands of the Epochs of the Conqueror, being a translation of Jinakalamalipakaranam. London: Pali Text Society ____. 1971. The Chronicle of the Thupa and the Thupavamsa. London: Pali Text Society. Khin Maung Nyunt, 2000. Sule Pagoda. Yangon: Design Printing Services Listopad, John. 2003. Guardians of the Flame: Art of Sri Lanka. Phoenix: Phoenix Art Museum. Lowry, John. 1974. Burmese Art. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. Luce, G.H. 1985. Phases of Pre-Pagan Burma, vols. 1-2. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ____. 1969. Old Burma-Early Pagan. vols. 1 – III. New York: J.J. Augustin. Nai Pan Hla. 1977. The Struggle of Razadirit. [Yazadarit Ayedawbon] Rangoon: Minhlaingdaw Literature House. Paranavitana, S. 1946. The Stupa in Ceylon. Colombo: Ceylon Government Press. Pattaratrorn Chirapravati. 2009. “From text to image: copying as Buddhist practice in late fourteenth century Sukhothai.” In Stephen C. Berkwitz, Julliane Schober, Claudia Brown (eds.), Buddhist Manuscript Culture: Knowledge, Ritual and Art, pp. 172-188. London: Routledge. ____. 2005. “Wat Rachaburana: Deposits of History, Art and Culture of the Early Ayutthaya Period.” In Forrest McGill (ed.). The Kingdom of Siam: The Art of Central Thailand, 1350-1800, pp. 81-93. San Francisco: Asian Art Museum, Piriya Krairiksh. 1980. Art in Peninsular Thailand Prior to the Fourteenth Century A.D. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department. Pe Maung Tin 1934. “The Shwe Dagon Pagoda.” Journal of the Burma Research Society. XXIV. Pt. 1: 1-91 Prathum Chumphenghphan 2005 “Khruang thong krung si ayutthaya” [Gold Treasure of the Ayutthaya period]. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department Ramachandran, T.N. 2005. The Nagapattinam and other Buddhist Bronzes in the Chennai Museum, Chennai: Government of Tamil Nadu. Rooney, F. Dawn. 2008. Ancient Sukhothai. Bangkok: River Books. San Lwin 2007. Trans. The Campaigns of Razadarit by Binnya Dala. Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University. Santi, Leksukhum 2005. “The Evolution of the Memorial Towers of Siamese Temples”. In Forrest McGill (ed.). The Kingdom of Siam: The Art of Central Thailand, 1350- 1800, pp. 61-79. San Francisco: Asian Art Museum, Schroeder, Von Ulrich 1990. Buddhist Sculptures of Sri Lanka. Hong Kong: Visual Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Dharma Publications. Shorto, H.L. 1971. A Dictionary of the Mon Inscriptions from the Sixth to the Sixteenth Centuries. London: Oxford University Press. Singer, Noel F. 1992. “The Gold Relics of Bana Thaw.” Arts of Asia, 22, 5: 75-85. Skilling, Peter. 2007. “Kings, Sangha and Brahman: Ideology, ritual and power in pre- modern Siam.” In Ian Harris (ed.). Buddhism, Power and Political Order, pp. 182-215. London: Routledge Stadtner, Donald M. 2005. Ancient Pagan: Buddhist Plain of Merit. Bangkok: River City Books ____. 2011. Sacred Sites of Burma: Myth and Folklore in an Evolving Spiritual Realm. Bangkok: River Books Strong, John S. 2004. Relics of the Buddha. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Sujit Wongthes 1988. Srivijaya. Bangkok: Fine Arts Department St. John, F.R. St. Andrew. 1895. “Relics Found in Rangoon.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland. New Series. 27,1: 199-201. Subhadradis Diskul. 1981. Art in Thailand: A Brief History. Bangkok: Amarin Press Sykes, W.H. “Account of some Golden Relics discovered at Rangoon, and exhibited at a Meeting of the Society on the 6th June, 1857, by permission of the court of Directors of the East India Company.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, XVII: 298-308. Taw Sein Ko. 1893. “A Preliminary Study of the Kalyani Inscriptions of Dhammaceti, 1476 A.D.” Indian Antiquary, XXII: 29-53. Than Tun 1978. History of Buddhism in Burma A.D. 100 – 1300.” Journal of the Burma Research Society, LXI, 1-2:1 – 226. ____. 2004. Some Observation on History and Culture of Early Myanma. Yangon: Myanmar Historical Commission. Tun Aung Chain, 2010. (Transl.) A Chronicle of the Mons. Yangon: SEAMEO Regional Center for History and Tradition. ____. 2004. “Bayinnaung in the Shwezigon Bell Inscription.” In Selected Writing of Tun Aung Chain, pp. 90-111.Yangon: Myanmar Historical Commission. ____. 2002. “Pegu in Politics and Trade, Ninth to Seventeenth Centuries.” In Sunait Chutintaranond and Chris Baker (eds). Recalling Local Pasts: Autonomous History in Southeast Asia, pp. 25-52. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. 25-52 Wickremasinghe, Martino de Zilva, 1904. “The Two Tablets of Mahinda IV at Minhintale.” Epigraphia Zeylanica, 1: 75-113, Woodward, Hiram W. 1993. “The Thai ‘chedi’ and the Problems of Stupa Interpretation.” History of Religions, 33,1: 71-91 Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Wyatt, David K. and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo. 1998. The Chiang Mai Chronicle. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Zwalf, W. 1985. Buddhism: Art and Faith. London: British Museum.

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A New Method of Classification for Tai Textiles Patricia Cheesman

Textiles, as part of Southeast Asian traditional clothing and material culture, feature as ethnic identification markers in anthropological studies. Textile scholars struggle with the extremely complex variety of textiles of the Tai peoples and presume that each Tai ethnic group has its own unique dress and textile style. This method of classification assumes what Leach calls “an academic fiction … that in a normal ethnographic situation one ordinarily finds distinct tribes distributed about the map in an orderly fashion with clear-cut boundaries between them” (Leach 1964: 290). Instead, we find different ethnic Tai groups living in the same region wearing the same clothing and the same ethnic group in different regions wearing different clothing. For example: the textiles of the Tai Phuan peoples in Vientiane are different to those of the Tai Phuan in Xiang Khoang or Nam Nguem or Sukhothai. At the same time, the Lao and Tai Lue living in the same region in northern Vietnam weave and wear the same textiles. Some may try to explain the phenomena by calling it “stylistic influence”, but the reality is much more profound. The complete repertoire of a people’s style of dress can be exchanged for another and the common element is geography, not ethnicity. The subject of this paper is to bring to light forty years of in-depth research on Tai textiles and clothing in the Lao People’s Democratic Republic (Laos), Thailand and Vietnam to demonstrate that clothing and the historical transformation of practices of social production of textiles are best classified not by ethnicity, but by geographical provenance. The pervading factor in provenance is the social structure of communities of each region. In Tai traditional culture, the organisation of society and management of populations was achieved through a system called “muang”.1 The finding of this Muang is the traditional governing system for Tai communities and involved interdependent units of population arranged in villages (baan), whether Tai or not, that combined to make a muang (Wyatt 1984: 7-8). Five muang made a muang kuang, which was headed by a chief called chao muang (phia tao in Vietnam). Multiple muang kuang came under a capital called muang luang, which was headed by a king, prince or chief called chao muang luang. Each muang, having

1

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research is that textiles from regions governed by the muang system, prior to the introduction of the Western nation-state system and the drawing up of international borders, exhibit unique styles that can be documented and classified according to their muang. The uniformity of data gathered in each region has enabled this author to identify several main muang styles (and subsequent sub-styles that exhibit their tributary relationship to the main muang) regardless of the multi-ethnic status of the population. Thus, the identification of Tai textiles using the muang system incorporates historical and ethnic overlapping and, at the same time, illustrates the tributary relations between political centres of Tai peoples in the past. The 14th century saw the establishment of a number of large and politically powerful Tai muang in areas of present-day Laos, north-west Vietnam, southern China, northern Myanmar and Thailand (see map). From the 14th to the 19th centuries Sipsong Chao Tai (Twelve Tai Chiefs) administered a huge population along the Red, Black and Ma rivers with tributary muang in present-day southern China, north-west Vietnam and north-east Laos. The kingdom of Lan Xang was founded in the 14th century by the Lao and held sway in the Mekong river basin while the Siamese established the kingdoms of Sukhothai in the 13th century and Ayutthaya in the 14th century in the Chaophraya river region. A small kingdom called Muang Phuan controlled the trade route between the Lan Xang capital of Luang Phabang and the kingdom of Hué on the coast of Vietnam (Snit and Breazeale 1988: 4-5). The Siamese and Vietnamese were continuously fighting for power over the muang that fell geographically between them. In the 19th century, the Siamese claimed suzerainty over Lan Xang, which in turn claimed suzerainty over Sipsong Chao Tai and Muang Phuan, placing the latter two muang theoretically under the indirect jurisdiction of the Siamese (Snit and Breazeale 1988: 71). At the same time, the Vietnamese mandarins of Annam received tribute from Sipsong Chao Tai and Muang Phuan, symbolising their suzerainty over those muang (Evans 2002: 32). These complex relationships were far from stable and the political power of a chief or king was measured against the size of the population he controlled. Slaves had collected tribute from their baan, paid annual tribute to their chao muang who in turn paid tribute to the chao muang luang. The greater the population controlled by the chao muang luang, the greater the income he received. The total area of habitation of all the people under the chao muang luang was also called muang, which was a chiefdom, a confederation of chiefs or a kingdom. Muang expanded and contracted continuously, overlapped and could have multiple suzerainties, paying tribute to several overlords, but at the same time maintaining their independence and receiving tribute themselves from less politically powerful muang/baan within their region. Muang covers all aspects of political, social, geographic and administrative systems of the Tai prior to outside influence, in a single word. In its most intact form, documented in north-west Vietnam, land was not privately owned, but distributed by the chiefs according to family and community needs, which were re-evaluated annually. Social, cultural and labouring activities were communal and rulers gave security, leadership and identity to the people in their jurisdiction. (Cam Trong 1998: 12-26) The editorial of Tai Culture 3, 2 (1998) also gives numerous further references for this complex subject. (Raendchen and Raendchen 1998: 5-11). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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been part of the tributes sent between muang over centuries to secure peace and independence for the lesser muang, but in the 18th to 19th centuries, the Siamese physically relocated tens of thousands of people from Vientiane to the west side of the Mekong river and to the Chaophraya valley to boost their populations (Evans 2002: 25-33). Furthermore, Muang Phuan was depopulated in the 19th century in an attempt to create a no-man’s land in the region between Siam and the Vietnamese (Snit and Breazeale 1988: 7-8). Most Tai self-appointed names relate to their region or muang of origin, such as the Tai Nuea from Muang Xam Nuea and the Tai Phuan from Muang Phuan in Laos; and the Tai Daeng from Muang Daeng in Vietnam etc. These names are used as ethnic classification names in anthropological studies, presuming that people maintain them wherever they live. This is not a traditional method of self-identity but one supposed for them. According to Tai culture, in cases of intermarriage, the children of parents from two different ethnic groups take the identity of their geographic location. In the case of the matriarchal Tai Phuan peoples, men moved to the women’s homes and kept their original (ethnic) identity, but the children became part of the Phuan community of their mothers. For the patriarchal Tai Daeng, the opposite is true; a woman moved to the man’s house at marriage, and both she and her children took the identity of the man’s community. Prior to the Western nation-state system of government and the drawing up of international borders at the end of the 19th century, my research shows that Tai peoples used textiles and clothing to express their desire to belong to certain communities (muang). The concept of uniforms and dress as outward expressions of group identity is common to many cultures and applied to the Tai, who identified with their region of origin, not their ethnicity, which was a concept brought much later by Europeans (Evans 2000: 7). By wearing the same style of clothing, the inhabitants of a community were identified as belonging to that muang, regardless of their ethnicity, and outsiders could easily be recognised. This was a useful security system as well as a community binder. Any person wishing to join the community would have to be accepted by the chief and show allegiance to him by adapting to the norms of the region, which included certain dress codes. The main muang evolved different dress and textile styles, with sub-styles in the lesser and vassal muang that could be recognised as part of that main muang style. Clothing was an outward expression of allegiance to the chief and his family, who would wear the style of their muang in the appropriate materials of their rank at official occasions when the population could keep in touch with the latest fashions of the hierarchy and emulate them, albeit with less valuable local materials. However, many communities were isolated, cut off by high mountains without modern transport and communications. As a result, the evolution of muang styles was slow and reflected the regional climate and vegetation, as well as any geographical features that brought trade and imported goods into some areas and not others. Historical events that shaped Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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the muang themselves and caused mass movements of people must be studied to understand the dress and textiles found in different regions. The historical outlines given in this paper are necessarily over-simplified as space will allow, and are only examples of the complex tributary relations between various Tai muang to illustrate my hypothesis. During the 17th to 19th centuries, war and slavery brought about the relocation of large numbers of Tai peoples. When people fled their homes or were relocated and placed under a new chief, they changed their clothing and textiles accordingly. These changes were sometimes very sudden, as in the case of the Tai Khang and Tai Phuan who fled Muang Phuan, escaping slavery by the Siamese. It would have been necessary for them to blend immediately into their new locations to avoid detection while those captured and relocated near Bangkok took on the clothing styles of their Siamese overlords. In the early 19th century, large numbers of Tai Daeng migrated to Muang Xam Nuea to escape political persecution in their home region of Muang Daeng in Vietnam (Howard and Howard 2002: 107). They did not need to change their clothing and textiles styles because both Muang Daeng and Muang Xam Nuea were tributaries to Sipsong Chao Tai, and followed the same dress code. At the turn of the 20th century, the French established Indochina and international borders for Vietnam and Laos. Thailand drew up borders to protect the kingdom from colonisation, and began to modernise.2 This brought an end to the muang system in these countries and the muang dress codes that it dictated. Prior to this period, there was no concept among the Tai people of nation (or geography) as we know it today (Winichakul 1994). The new international borders and provincial divisions re-organised the areas once controlled by muang rulers. The power of the chiefs in the smaller muang was given to government officials, who often came from other regions, and nationalism was promoted for self-identity in the place of muang identity. My research shows that after this period, Tai people did not change their method of dress if they moved their location, and the logical reason is that they were no longer required to show allegiance to regional chiefs. In the case of large Tai communities that moved into areas outside or on the periphery of existing Tai muang prior to the 20th century, it has been found that they have usually maintained their original style of dress in their new location. This is true of the Tai Lue, who were invited by King Rama I (r. 1782-1809) to move from Sipsong Panna to northern Thailand, and the Phutai, who migrated to southern Laos. For textiles that date prior to the breakdown of the muang system, it is possible to identify and classify them with great accuracy according to muang styles. After the beginning of the 20th century, and for a period of fifty years, this method can still be applied, but the styles became less distinct, particularly in areas with good 2

Some international borders established at that time have since changed and disputes still continue. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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communications, whereas in isolated regions traditional textiles and methods of dress were still followed. By the mid-20th century, the commercialisation of traditional textiles brought about a mixture of styles, some of which can still be analysed using this method. The styles classified by the muang system that follow are not complete, but it is hoped that this classification system will be used for further research into regions as yet unclassified. More detailed information is available in my publication, “LaoTai Textiles: The Textiles of Xam Nuea and Muang Phuan” (Cheesman 2004). The textiles with the most distinct styles are the clothing items of Tai women. Women stayed at home while men travelled for trade and treaty, thus it was the women who wove, displayed and conserved the identity of their community and muang style. Men’s clothing and textiles in all the muang styles were very similar, probably to enhance anonymity, equality and practicality in travel. For this reason, the textiles discussed here are mainly women’s clothing.

Sipsong Chao Tai style Sipsong Chao Tai (Twelve Tai Chiefs) was a confederation of Tai chiefs and one of the first documented ancient muang of the Tai people, commencing in the 6th century with White Tai rulers in Muang Lo (Cam 1998: 23). The auspicious number twelve was applied, even though at one time there were at least sixteen chiefs of the major muang that ruled over a hundred smaller muang; and early Vietnamese accounts referred to it as Siphok Chao Tai (Sixteen Tai Chiefs). Muang Thanh, now known as Dien Bien Phu, was the capital for many decades, with Black Tai rulers; as was Muang Moei, now known as Tuan Chau in Son La province, which had White Tai rulers. By the 14th century, Sipsong Chao Tai governed a huge area, including the upper Red and Black rivers in Vietnam and parts of southern China, northern Laos from the Ou River to Muang Xam Nuea and east across the current border with Vietnam into Thanh Hoa province. Although little remains of the original Sipsong Chao Tai style in Vietnam today due to the marketing of Chinese fabric into the region for centuries, evidence of the early dress code can be seen in the clothing of a Tai Dam (Black Tai) noble woman from Son La province, Vietnam, collected by the Musée de l’Homme (now the Musée de Quay Branly) in 1931 (Hemmet 1995: 49). It is a long tube-skirt worn above the breast with a short, long-sleeved blouse and a decorative head cloth. This method of dress is still known today as sin luea suea bo po, which translates as “too much skirt and not enough blouse,” in Xam Nuea district, Houa Phan province, Laos, and several provinces in Vietnam. As Muang Xam Nuea was a tributary to Sipsong Chao Tai (Chamberlain 1992; 20), it is possible to study the textiles of the Tai groups from Houa Phan province in Laos to shed light on the once rich heritage of Sipsong Chao Tai textiles. The French further encouraged the market economy Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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in the 20th century, and the availability of commercial fabric and household goods brought the decline of hand weaving in this region of Vietnam. However, in some areas of Vietnam that were once governed by Sipsong Chao Tai there are still small communities that maintain the sin luea suea bo po dress code and some of their original textile traditions. These communities include the Lao Noi in Lai Chau province, the Tai Khao in Hoa Binh province and the Tai Dam3 in Thanh Hoa province. The Tai Thanh and Tai Moei in Nghe An province also wear this method of dress and, under the theory of this classification system, would have migrated from Muang Thanh and Muang Moei (in the Sipsong Chao Tai region) respectively. Cam Trong reiterates this theory by placing the migration of the Tai Thanh to Nhge An province from Muang Thanh (Cam 1998; 20). It is most likely that their textiles reflect the style from their original muang in Sipsong Chao Tai, which gives us a glimpse into the past. The communities of Tai Waat in Sonla province in Vietnam, Houa Phan and Xiang Khoang province in Laos and Petchaburi province in Thailand still weave some textiles in the original Sipsong Chao Tai style.

Xam Nuea style Muang Xam Nuea was in the approximate area of today’s Houa Phan province in Laos, with settlements on the Xam, Et and Ma rivers. It was in the path of some of the earliest migrations of Tai people into Laos and Thailand from Vietnam that began over a thousand years ago (Cam 1998: 20). Houa Phan province is home to one of the richest textile cultures in Southeast Asia and holds more examples of Tai textile types than any other region/muang. It is likely that these textiles were once woven in the other muang, but many textiles were discontinued due to their arduous weaving techniques while others were adapted to warmer climates and different economic, social, political and geographical conditions. Xam Nuea style textiles were thick and woven in materials suitable for the cold mountain climate. The main decorative techniques were supplementary warp and discontinuous supplementary weft using combinations of heavy silk and large hand-spun cotton yarns dyed with natural dyes. Four major ethnic groups of Tai peoples live in this region: the Tai Nuea, Tai Daeng, Tai Moei and Tai Khang. The Tai Dam and Tai Waat came much later and did not adopt the Xam Nuea style. The Tai Nuea4 are the oldest Tai inhabitants of Muang Xam Nuea while the Tai Daeng came from Muang Daeng in Vietnam in the early 19th century. When Laos became part of Indochina at the end of the 19th century, They call themselves Tai Dam in Vietnam, but when visiting their relatives in Houa Phan province of Laos they call themselves Tai Daeng. The textiles of Muang Daeng in Thanh Hoa province were recorded by Robert (Robert 1941). For political reasons, many Tai Daeng fled Muang Daeng to settle in Muang Xam Nuea in the early 19th century. 4 The Tai Nuea are also known as the Lao Phut. 3

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the French replaced the Tai Nuea chiefs with a Tai Daeng administration.5 Some converted to Christianity from shamanism, but the Tai Nuea were not willing to give up their Buddhist beliefs and consequently many families moved to Buddhist towns in the Mekong river basin, where they adopted the Lan Xang style of clothing of that region. The Tai Khang came from Muang Khang in Muang Phuan6 to escape slavery and the Tai Moei, who originated in Muang Moei, north-west Vietnam, settled on the Nam Noen river that flows between Houa Phan and Xiang Khoang provinces, once the regions of Muang Xam Nuea and Muang Phuan respectively. The method of dress for women in the Xam Nuea style is called sin luea suea bo po (long skirts and short blouses). The tube-skirts had wide waistbands made from one to three textiles to enable the skirt to be tied above the breast. The waistband was the only part of the dress that displayed the original muang of the different ethnic groups, who all wove and wore the same types of textiles. The blouses were short, showing off the waistband and the thick cotton belt known as aeng. Variations in sub-styles can be identified by colour preferences, density of weaves and evidence of trade materials. Four sub-styles have been identified: Upper Xam Nuea, Xam Tai, Muang Vaen, and Nam Noen. Upper Xam Nuea and Xam Tai textiles had thick supplementary yarns, but can be distinguished by their different colour preferences, while those from Muang Vaen can be identified by the use of finer yarns and imported cotton. The Nam Noen style was known for its bright chemical colours traded along the Noen river in the early 20th century and the pale turquoise blue acquired from fresh indigo leaves. The Tai Moei and Tai Khang share the upper reaches of the river, both groups wearing the same style of dress in this region. The Nam Noen sub-style can also be seen in Bolikhamxay province of Laos, south of the Noen river area, where some Tai Moei and Tai Thanh live today. Their textile style is the same, and it is likely that they lived in the Nam Noen region prior to their move to Bolikhamxay, as evidenced by their clothing. These two groups migrated more recently and did not change their dress style after their move to Bolikhamxay. Interestingly, the Tai Thanh in Nghe An province, Vietnam, living away from the Noen river, do not use the bright imported colours of the Nam Noen style but wear a distinctive style, maintaining the sin luea suea bo po dress code, This information was gained from two unpublished histories of the Tai Daeng peoples written in Lao by Lung Bao Phuang Nanthavongduangsi and Thao Khampaeng of Nong Bua Thong village, Vientiane, Laos. 6 Chamberlain sites Dang Nghiem Van’s 1974 book in Vietnamese as listing the Tai Khang from Muang Khang in Laos without mentioning the location (Chamberlain 1991: 122). I have found three villages on the ruins of an ancient city that boasted three tall chedis near Xiang Kham in Xiang Khoang province (previously known as Muang Phuan) where the Tai Khang language is widely spoken that I think was the location of Muang Khang. The Tai Khang dialect is very distinct and is still spoken in various other locations in Laos where the Tai Khang fled and areas of Thailand where the Tai Khang (also called Lao Khrang) were re-located (Cheesman 2004: 283). Furthermore, the style of Tai Khang textiles is the Muang Phuan style. 5

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which is possibly the original style from their homeland of Muang Thanh in Sipsong Chao Tai.

Muang Phuan style The Muang Phuan style of dress was very different to that of Sipsong Chao Tai and Xam Nuea. The women’s blouse was long and the tube-skirt worn at the waist, with only a single narrow red waistband and worn without a belt. A white head cloth was worn in contrast to the dark indigo and decorative head cloths of the Xam Nuea style and a shoulder cloth was worn on special occasions. The main techniques in Muang Phuan were weft ikat and continuous supplementary weft. The colour preference was for orange, green and yellow decorative motifs on red or purple grounds. The skill of the weavers from this region was employed by the royal court of Lan Xang to produce weft ikat long cloths for men in the structure of the double-ikat patola sari that was traded into Southeast Asia from India and regarded as a magic cloth. The Muang Phuan style of textiles are medium thick, with handspun cotton and fine silk, dyed with natural dyes. Muang Phuan was roughly in the region of present-day Xiang Khoang province, Laos, and lay on the trade route between Luang Phabang and the coast of Vietnam. Its rich natural resources made it a prize for kings and bandits alike and the history of Muang Phuan is filled with war. The people fled many times and returned again to their beloved homelands. The massive re-location of the population by the Siamese from the 18th to the 19th century left Muang Phuan with a small population, and in the 20th century the region received an unprecedented concentration of bomb attacks by the U.S. military in the Second Indochina War (Vietnam War). As a result of their tragic history, traditional Muang Phuan style textiles are difficult to locate and study. Three sub-styles have been identified: Muang Ngan, Muang Khang and Baan Thamla/Nakhang. Two large ethnic groups living in Muang Phuan were the Tai Phuan and the Tai Khang. In Thailand, they are known as the Lao Phuan and Lao Khrang respectively. The textiles from the regions of Thailand and Laos where the people of Muang Phuan and Muang Khang were relocated, or fled, show the adaptability of these people to change their original style to that of their new homes. In Laos, they fled to Muang Xam Tai, a tributary of Muang Xam Nuea, where they adopted all the local textile types and structures but used the favourite colours of their original homeland. In the Noen river region, they adopted the Nam Noen style completely. Those who fled north-west to Muang Hun, Udomxay province, adopted the Sipsong Panna style of that region, and their textiles have been consequently misidentified by some researchers as Tai Lue textiles. In Thailand, the Tai Phuan, who were relocated in Laplae and Haat Siou districts in Sukhothai province, followed the style of early Lanna but emphasised Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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green, red and other favourite colours of their homeland. In Phichit, Suphanburi and Chainat provinces, the Tai Khang wove their original red ikat skirts, but added Lanna style hem pieces, called tiin chok, made in discontinuous supplementary weft. It is possible that these were inspired by the dress of Princess Dara Rasami, a Lanna princess who was consort to King Rama V (r. 1868-1910) of Siam.7 In Isan, the Tai Phuan were similarly dispersed and examples of their excellent ikat tube-skirts can be identified by the Muang Phuan style red waist bands with supplementary weft banding in the favourite colours of Muang Phuan. The textiles of the Phutai peoples in Laos and Thailand are in the Muang Phuan style. This, together with the linguistic link between Phutai and Phuan languages (Chamberlain 1975: 63), is evidence, according to my analysis of muang styles, that the Phutai lived in the area of Muang Phuan or were vassals to Muang Phuan at some point in their history. As researchers continue to speculate the origin of the Phutai, their dress code should be taken into consideration as well as an interesting comment by Winichakul: “Khamkoet and Khammuan … were twin towns in the sphere of the Phuan.” (Winichakul 1994: 105). Today, the Phutai live in Khammouan and Savannakhet provinces in Laos, and many were relocated to Sakon Nakhon, Kalasin, Nakon Phanom, Mukdahan, Ubol Ratchathani and Amnat Charoen provinces in Thailand.

Sipsong Panna style Sipsong Panna was a large muang with its capital in Chiang Rung, southern China, governing areas in present-day southern Yunnan, north-west Laos on the upper Ou river and the eastern reaches of the Shan States in Myanmar. The ruling classes and majority were the Tai Lue. Today, areas that display the Sipsong Panna style of textiles are more extensive, reaching down the Ou River as far as Luang Phabang and covering the provinces of Phongsali, Udomxai, Luang Namtha, Bo Keo and Sayabouli in Laos. To the west it is seen along the Mekong river in Chiang Rai, Phayao and Nan provinces in Thailand. The Tai people displaying the Sipsong Panna style are the Tai Lue, Lao, Tai Phuan, Tai Hun, Tai Yuan, Tai Yai and Tai Khuen. To the east there are settlements of Tai Lue and Lao people in Lai Chau province in Vietnam who also wear the Sipsong Panna style of dress (Howard and Howard 2002: 280-289). The Sipsong Panna style of dress for women is a waist-length blouse with cross-breast fastening in the Chinese fashion and a tube-skirt fastened at the waist with one waistband. The patterning of the tube-skirts is horizontal when worn, requiring two side-seams, as the patterns are in the weft. The separate hem pieces are Princess Dara Rasami wore Lanna style hem pieces in the court of King Rama V and was the first member of the royal court to bring hand-woven provincial textiles to the Siamese court, where normally only foreign imported textiles were worn.

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Figure 1. Map of the approximate location of Tai muang and other socio-political structures of the 14th century in mainland Southeast Asia.

Figure 2 (opposite page). Comparative study of Tai muang dress styles. Other groups of Tai wearing the same style are noted. (left to right, from the top) Sipsong Chao Tai style: Lao Noi woman from Ma Sang, Muang Thanh, Lai Chau province, Vietnam. Other groups: Tai Thanh, Tai Khao, Tai Moei, Tai Dam/Daeng. Xam Nuea style: Tai Daeng woman from Xam Tai district, Houa Phan province, Laos. Other groups: Tai Nuea, Tai Moei, Tai Khang. Muang Phuan style: Tai Phuan woman from Muang Ngan, Xiang Khoang province, Laos. Other groups: Tai Phuan, Tai Thamla/Nakhang, Tai Khang. Phutai Muang Phuan style: Phutai woman from Ban Namahii, Angkham district, Savannakhet province, Laos. Lan Xang style: Lao women from Luang Phabang, Laos. Other groups: Tai Phuan, Tai Nuea. Sipsong Panna style: Tai Lue women from Ban Pat, Chiang Kham district, Payao province, Thailand. Other groups: Tai Khuen, Lao, Tai Phuan, Tai Hun, Tai Yuan.

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Figure 3. Comparative study of Tai women’s blouse styles (left to right, from the top): Xam Nuea and Sipsong Chao Tai styles, Sipsong Panna style, Muang Phuan style, Lan Xang style

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Figure 4. Comparative study of Tai women’s tube-skirt styles (left to right, from the top): Xam Nuea and Sipsong Chao Tai styles, Muang Phuan style, Lan Xang style, Sipsong Panna style.

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Figure 5. Sin tiin nyai tube-skirts in Xam Nuea style showing little variation between groups except for the different waist bands. It is rare to find complete examples with the correct waist band. (left to right, from the top): Tai Daeng, Tai Khang, Tai Moei, Tai Nuea (The Tai Nuea example has been re-constructed according to historical photographs and personal interviews).

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usually plain indigo or green. Materials include hand-spun and commercial cotton, imported Chinese satin and ribbon, silk, synthetic yarns, gold and silver threads, sequins and buttons. Weaving techniques include continuous and discontinuous supplementary wefts, weft ikat and tapestry technique, which is unusual in other muang styles but quite common in the Sipsong Panna style. The many sub-styles relate to the geographical location of the small muang and display an enormous variation in colour and fabric quality, but the structure of the blouses and skirts are the same (Prangwatanakun 2008). The women usually wear plain head cloths in dark indigo or pastel colours depending on the sub-style. There are too many sub-styles to discuss here, but an example of how the muang classification system can be used for identification of both textiles and peoples can be demonstrated in the Muang Hun sub-style. The people call themselves Tai Hun and weave a distinct colour and patterning in their Sipsong Panna style tube-skirts. However, their origins in Muang Phuan can be seen in their white head cloths, the language of their ancient songs and their heirloom shaman skirts. The weft ikat shaman’s skirts in the Muang Phuan style that they made for their own ceremonies are very different to those they wove for sale to the shamans of the Khmu people, which had extraordinary tapestry designs in the Sipsong Panna style. Furthermore, the women’s blouses have the shape and length of the Muang Phuan style, which is dissimilar to the Sipsong Panna style. With this information, it is possible to identify the Tai Hun as descendants of Tai Phuan, who would have fled into this region over 180 years ago.

Lan Xang style The kingdom of Lan Xang in Laos governed the arable land in the Mekong river basin from Luang Phabang in the north to Champassak in the south. The area of north-east Thailand known as Isan was also part of Lan Xang until the beginning of the 18th century. The Lan Xang kingdom was established in the 14th century with its capital in Luang Phabang, and administered a great number of different Tai people, with the Lao as the majority group and ruling class. Lan Xang was a tributary to Siam and court styles followed those of the Siamese court, but instead of imported textiles, most Lan Xang textiles were made inside the kingdom. Royalty and the upper classes were privileged to the use of expensive imported metallic threads and silk yarns while less valuable materials, such as gold and silver yarns made from laminated paper, were used by the majority of the population. The Lan Xang style of dress was a cross-breasted blouse with a tube-skirt worn at the waist with a metal belt. The tube-skirts had narrow hem pieces made from metallic/shiny threads and the popular technique for the main body of the skirt was weft ikat with small motifs. Materials were fine cotton or silk, rendering them thin and cool to wear. Preferred colours to enhance gold and silver threads were Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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dark, while chemical dyes, available since the early 20th century, were applied in bright monochromes. Head cloths were not worn, but decorative shoulder cloths for attending Buddhist ceremonies were made to match the tube-skirts. Blouses were made from Chinese satin fabric and decorated around the collar by embroidery and couching. In the warmer climates to the south, breast-cloths were worn instead of blouses.

Conclusion The style of Tai textiles and their dress codes were not a sign of ethnicity, but the result of socio-political interests that related directly to their communities and geographical locations. Tai textile motifs that are woven in all regions testify to a common origin for the Tai groups, who also share cultural traditions and most weaving techniques. As they migrated away from their original communities and established new ones, the Tai prioritised certain elements in their textiles and clothing that became particular to each community, which was called muang. The extraordinary homogeneous quality of the textiles from certain regions, correlating with the locations of ancient Tai muang, has been the focus point of this research and the basis of the hypothesis that textiles can be studied as community markers in the Tai world. Due to the complexity of ethnic integration of Tai textiles, a new method of classification is necessary to incorporate stylistic changes relating to geographic location rather than the existing classification system based on ethnicity. This research suggests the identification of textiles by muang styles and provenance, particularly in cases where antique textiles cannot be given ethnic identities due to the lack of historical records or certain elements that are specific to an ethnic group, especially the waist bands of the tube-skirts. The benefit of this research is not only a comprehensive method of identification of antique textiles and clothing useful to museums and collectors; it can also be used as a material lexicon of tributary relations of the Tai peoples. Furthermore the muang method of Tai textile identification can be used for tracing original homelands and migrations of peoples through their textile styles.

References Bounyavong, Douangdeuane. 2001a. Project Background. In Legends in the Weaving, eds. Viengkham Nanthavongdounsy and Douangdeuane Bounyavong, 3-7. Vientiane: The Group for Promotion of Art and Lao Textiles. Boutin, M. 1937. Monographie de les Provinces de Houa Phan. Bulletin des Amis Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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du Royaume Laos. Cam, Trong. 1997. What has been achieved by ethnology on the Tai Dam and Tai Khaao and how to continue research [June]. Tai Culture II:103-111. Cam, Trong. 1998. Baan Muang, A Characteristic Feature of the Tai Social Structure [December 1998]. Tai Culture III:12-26.. 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. Harris and J.R. Chamberlain, pp. 49-66. Central Institute of English Language. Chamberlain, James R. 1991. Mene: A Dialect originally spoken in Nhge An (Nhge Tinh), Vietnam. In Journal of the Siam Society, 104-123. Chamberlain, James R. 1992. The Black Tai Chronicle of Muang Mouay. MonKhmer Studies 21: 19-55. Cheesman, Patricia. 1982. The Antique Weavings of the Lao Neua [July-August]. Arts of Asia 12: 120-125. Cheesman, Patricia. 1988. Lao Textiles Ancient Symbols - Living Art. Bangkok: White Lotus. Cheesman, Patricia. 2000. Introducing Muang Hun textiles. In Proceedings: The International Conference on Tai Studies, July 29-31, 1998, ed. Somsonge Burusphat, 263-272. Bangkok: Institute of Language and Culture for Rural Development, Mahidol University. Cheesman, Patricia. 2004. Lao-Tai Textiles: The Textiles of Xam Nuea and Muang Phuan. Bangkok: Studio Naenna. Diller, Anthony. 1994. Tai Languages: varieties and subgroup terms [June 1994]. Thai-Yunnan Project Newsletter 25:8-17. Evans, Grant. 2002. A Short History of Laos The Land In Between. Short History of Asia Series. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Gedney, J William. 1964. A comparative sketch of White, Black and Red Tai [December 1964]. Social Sciences Review Special no 14. Gittinger, Mattiebelle, Lefferts, H. Leedom, and Textile Museum (Washington D.C.). 1992. Textiles and the Tai experience in Southeast Asia. Washington, D.C.: Textile Museum. Hemmet, Christine. 1995. Montagnards des pays d’Indochine : dans les collections du Musee de l’homme : catalogue d’exposition. Boulogne-Billancourt: Sepia. Howard, Michael C., and Howard, Kim Be. 2002. Textiles of the Daic Peoples of Vietnam: Studies in the Material Cultures of Southeast Asia No.3. Bangkok: White Lotus. Khampaeng. 1998. The History of the Tai Daeng People. Unpublished MS in Lao. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Leach, E.R. 1964. Political Systems of Highland Burma A study of Kachin Social Structure.vol. 1. London: University of London. Naenna, Patricia. 1994. Isan Textiles. In Thai Textiles: Threads of a Cultural Heritage, eds. Vithi Phanichphant, Songsak Prangwatthanakun and Patricia Naenna, 77-95. Bangkok: National Identity Board, Office of the Prime Minister. Naenna, Patricia. 1995. Into the Textile Worlds of Sam Neua and Vietnam. In Taasa Review: The Journal of the Asian Arts Society of Australia, 18-20. Nanthavongduangsi, Bao Phuang. 2001. The History of Muang O. Unpublished MS in Lao. Prangwatanakun, Soangsak, 2008. Cultural Heritage of T’ai Lue Textiles. Chiang Mai: Thai Department, Faculty of Humanities, Chiang Mai University. Phitiphat, Sumitr. 1980. The Religion and Beliefs of the Black Tai and note on the study of cultural origins. Journal of the Siam Society 68:29-68. Phitiphat, Sumitr and Luang, Hoang. 2000. Khon Tai Mueang Kwa: Tai Thanh and Tai Muong in Vietnam. Bangkok: Institute of Tai-Kadi Studies, Thammasat University. Raendchen, Oliver, and Jane Raendchen. 1998. Editorial [November]. Tai Culture III No. 2: 5-11. Robert, Romain. 1941. Notes sur les Tay Deng de Lang Chanh (Thanh-Hoa-Annam). Ms., Institut Indochinois pour l’Etude de l’Homme, Memoire No. 1. Hanoi. Snit, Smuckarn, and Breazeale, Kennon. 1988. A Culture in Search of Survival : the Phuan of Thailand and Laos. New Haven: Yale University Southeast Asia Studies. Stuart-Fox, Martin. 1997. A History of Laos, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Vi Van, An. Some thoughts about the name “Red Thai” in Vietnam. Paper presented at Leadership Conference on Conservancy and Development, The Centre for US-China Arts Exchange. Winichakul, Thongchai. 1994. Siam Mapped. A History of the Geo-body of a Nation. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Wyatt, David K. 1984. Thailand: A Short History. New Haven Conn.: Yale University Press.

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Siam’s Old Singapore Ties Vitthya Vejjajiva

Introduction This article is an abridged and edited version of a longer article that was prepared for a commemorative publication for the inauguration of the new premises of the Thai Embassy in Singapore.1 It is by no means meant as an academic article— indeed, although I use the word “old”, I am referring to the ties, not Singapore itself, which has had certain “connections” with Siam under King Ramkhamhaeng and down the ages—but has been prepared as a “reminder” of Singapore’s continuous and close association with the kings and people of Siam for well over a century. It was thus envisioned as a non-scholarly and basically descriptive article. That said, I hope to remind readers that the advent of “old” Singapore, dating from 1819, proved to be a momentous event for Siam, for it had the effect of changing the traditional pattern of Siam’s trade, henceforth to be characterized by the fast-growing junk trade between Chinese merchants in Siam and their counterparts in Singapore.

I. First contact The first Siamese-Singapore direct contact occurred in April 1821, barely two years after the founding of Singapore by Sir Stamford Raffles. A mission led by John Morgan, an English merchant resident in Singapore, was entrusted with a letter addressed to the King of Siam, in which Colonel William Farquhar, Resident of Singapore, informed the King of the “new Establishment the British Government has formed here” and expressed the hope for future commercial ties.2 The emissary was generally well received in Bangkok. Siam was then ruled by King Rama II (r. 1809-1824), who granted Morgan an audience, after he had met with Siamese officials, in particular Krom Muen (Prince) Chesda, the King’s eldest son, who was in overall charge of foreign relations and would soon succeed his father on the throne as King Rama III (r. 1824-1851). Thus, the first direct contact passed off reasonably smoothly and laid the groundwork for future bilateral relations; while From Hurricane House to Royal Thai Embassy Singapore (Singapore: The Royal Thai Embassy, Singapore, 2014). 2 O. Frankfurter, “The Unofficial Mission of John Morgan, merchant, to Siam in 1821”, JSS, 11 (1914-1915), Appendix, p. 8. 1

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focused on trade, the relationship would over the next hundred years develop beyond commerce despite being susceptible to varying geopolitical forces and against the background of the far-reaching transformation enveloping both Singapore and Siam.

II. Trade At the time of John Morgan’s mission, trade already existed between Siam and Singapore. Colonel Farquhar himself had pointed out to Raffles that out of twenty or so junks moored in Singapore harbour, three were from China, two from Cochin-China (Vietnam), and the rest from Siam.3 The number of Siamese junks steadily increased, so that by 1826 Singapore had become the hub of the Siamese junk trade in the entire Southeast Asian archipelago. This phenomenon signified that Siam would no longer rely only on the centuries-old China trade.4 Siam’s foreign commerce and revenue had traditionally been centred on trade with China under a system characterized by the tributary relationship and by the active participation in the trade by Siamese kings, coupled with monopolistic practices—a situation also to be found elsewhere in contemporary Asia. Equally, dating from ancient times, Siam’s other trading partners came from the lands to the west, or Indian Ocean side, of the country, known as “Khaek”, predominantly Muslims, who were joined later by Europeans, such as the Portuguese, Dutch and English. Administratively, trade with China and all other eastern lands was put under the jurisdiction of the Eastern Department, while trade with others in the West, including Europeans, was supervised by the Western Department, both entities coming under the auspices of the mammoth Bureau of Foreign Relations, or Krom Tha (literally “Ports Department”). With the advent of Singapore as a trading and trans-shipment port between east and west, Siam’s trade bureaucracy was directly affected. Siam’s “Western” trade was nearly wiped out, being supplanted by the trans-shipment by the junk traders between Singapore and Siam. The Singapore phenomenon thus had the effect of accelerating the decline in power of the Western Department, which had been suffering from the absence of European traders since the late Ayutthaya period, while augmenting the scope and authority of the Eastern Department under the control of influential merchants-cum-officials of Chinese origin. Siam’s trade thus fell squarely into the firm grip of ethnic Chinese merchants.5 Song Ong Siang, One Hundred Years’ History of the Chinese in Singapore (Singapore: University Malaya Press, 1967 [1923]), p. 9. 4 Sarasin Viraphol, Tribute and Profit: Sino-Siamese Trade (Cambridge, Ma.: Harvard University Press, 1977), pp. 186-9. 5 Chulispong Chularat, Khunnang Krom Tha Khwa (Officials of the Port Department of the Right), (Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University Press, 2003), p. 286. 3

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Apart from such administrative effects, the emergence of Singapore—with the attendant two-way trade with Siam—significantly brought to the fore problems and issues relating to the general conduct of trade, stemming from differing trade principles and practices followed by Siam, on the one hand, and the British, now based in Singapore, on the other. Accordingly, the overall problem of bilateral trade of those early days could be viewed from two different perspectives – that of the Siamese and of Singapore, or more precisely, the Straits Settlements, as part of British India. The Siamese perspective For the Siamese, the Singapore trade was an additional new dimension that was highly lucrative. It was also a novel experience for Siamese traders who, in the free and open market of Singapore (unlike the closed Chinese market accessible only to privileged Siamese), had to compete with other traders from neighbouring Cochin-China and Java for the same products, like rice, sugar and salt, and yet were able to secure the market. Moreover, through this junk trade, Siam imported diverse products through Singapore, chiefly textiles from India and England, as well as forbidden opium also from India. According to John Crawfurd, the renowned first British envoy to Siam, no other country in the surrounding region had more trade with Singapore than Siam.6 The significance of the Singapore trade was not lost on the Siamese leadership, especially the newly enthroned King Rama III. While new possibilities seemed to open up, the tributary system of trade with China gave cause for concern. During the fifty years after the fall of Ayutthaya, trade with China had been the mainstay of the Kingdom’s revenues, and brought in income for the Royal Treasury through direct royal trading. However, it had also significantly widened the “field” of trade through “authorized and privileged” trading carried out by “private” players, such as nobles and Chinese merchants, typically acting in consort. Such trade expansion, while benefiting the Kingdom as a whole, had the curious indirect effect of making royal trading less profitable. In light of these prevailing economic realities, the new King, with his vision and trading experience, responded by declaring the cessation of royal trading and a reduction in port charges; at the same time, he decided to make up for the financial loss caused by these changes by resorting to taxation, the collection of which was farmed out to the highest private bidders under what was known as “tax farming,” a system of raising state revenue generally recognized in Asian countries.7 John Crawfurd, Journal of an Embassy from the Governor of India to the Courts of Siam and Cochin-China (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1987 [1828]), p. 542. 7 Hong Lysa, Thailand in the Nineteenth Century: Evolution of the Economy and Society (Singapore: ISEAS, 1984), Chapter 4, referring to China at p.84; C. M. Turnbull, The Straits Settlements 18261867: Indian Presidency to Crown Colony (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1972), referring to Singapore; and Song Ong Siang, One Hundred Years’ History, p. 17, referring to Crawfurd as 6

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With regards to Singapore, Siam’s new trading partner, the Siamese made a clear distinction between the thriving junk trade, treated as being “local”, and the trade carried out by British vessels from Singapore, viewed as part of the European traders who had begun to return to trade at Siamese ports, although still small in number. In the Siamese view, trading with the Europeans was always problematic due to their insistence on their “rights”, in stark contrast with preferred fellow Asian traders, who accepted and complied with Siamese trading practices without demur. According to one authoritative source: “the Siamese felt no need for trade with the West – in fact, did not desire competition from Western merchants and were reluctant to sign treaties with the West because of the possible political dangers involved.”8 This Siamese outlook persisted until the first Anglo-Burmese war in 1825 became “the primary cause” for a major policy shift, leading to the conclusion of the Burney Treaty, the first modern treaty of friendship and the first commercial agreement between Siam and a Western nation.9 From the Siamese viewpoint, the Treaty was a political necessity which represented nothing more than what had to be conceded in order to preserve peace and reach political settlement. The trade provisions, however, caused serious concern. Termination of all state participation, as implied therein, would have placed a severe financial burden on the Treasury. In addition, members of the nobility and their Chinese merchant partners were anxious not to lose the benefits gained under the aegis of royal monopolies. Under such internal pressures, a new way of deriving revenue had to be, and was, found in the increased use of the recently introduced tax farming system, which also benefited and could pacify members of the nobility and Chinese merchants because it often turned out that they were the ones who won the tax concessions and became tax farmers.10 Meanwhile, Siam’s trade with China under the tributary system began to falter, due mainly to the penetration of the Chinese market by British traders, principally from Singapore, backed by British political and military pressure to which the Chinese finally succumbed. Siam’s advantageous position in the Chinese market inevitably suffered, resulting in increasing losses and aggravating the financial situation, which the Government attempted to redress by turning to other lucrative markets, such as Singapore, and adopting more revenue-raising measures. Apart from more new taxes under the tax farm system, other recourses were found, such as reversion to export control, re-imposition of Court monopolies and even trading by modern vessels of the royal fleet, all of which admittedly affected the few British Singapore trading vessels adversely. This affected party, though small in number, Resident of Singapore taxing “pleasures, vices and extravagances”. 8 Walter F. Vella, Siam under Rama III, 1824-1851 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1957), p. 115. 9 Vella, Siam under Rama III, pp. 115-117. 10 Vella, Siam under Rama III, p. 127. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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made a disproportionately loud “noise”, alleging Siamese infringement of the Burney Treaty. Noticeably, however, there were no strong official British protests.11 Such a state of affairs was allowed to persist until towards the end of King Rama III’s reign when the British Government decided to dispatch Sir James Brooke to Siam. The Siamese response was not entirely antagonistic, insisting that the Burney Treaty was still in force and adequate.12 The Siamese negotiators thus chose to dwell only on procedural matters. Finally, after a few months, negotiations were broken off, with the majority of the ministers, who were the King’s old stalwarts, insisting on the status quo against the more liberal and progressive views of the Foreign Minister and his increasingly influential son, Chuang Bunnag. More and more would be heard from the progressive elements in Siamese society in due course, but for the time being, the status quo prevailed. The British (Singapore) perspective The title of this subheading is indicative of the complexity of the trade situation as viewed from Singapore. As we have seen, Singapore’s junk trade with Siam carried out by the Singapore Chinese merchants was growing smoothly, as was its Siamese counterpart. What posed a problem, however, was the trade conducted by vessels belonging to the British merchants in Singapore, whose number was increasing rapidly. These enterprising Britons—the “founding fathers” of Singapore’s economy—were eager to explore and exploit any trade possibilities in the Orient. They were imbued with the philosophy and principles of Free Trade, as expounded by Adam Smith, and more recently spelt out by Raffles as the dogma of Singapore, the free port. As time went by, in actuality and in practice, these British merchants found, to their chagrin, that their beliefs and convictions had to face up to financial realities and difficulties internally, while externally they had to contend with antithetical restrictive trade practices prevailing elsewhere in the region, especially in China and other countries along the lucrative trade route, including Siam. In such circumstances, these proactive traders could not readily find a remedy for their plight, or even local governmental support, as the administration in Singapore enjoyed only limited authority. From its beginning, Singapore was founded by the British East India Company merely as another base, south from Penang, to protect its expanding China trade; together with Penang and Malacca, as British Straits Settlements, it was governed from Calcutta as part of British India, and was therefore subject to the influence of British Indian policy, which did not necessarily converge with “local” Singapore interests.13 In the Calcutta government’s view, the Straits Vella, Siam under Rama III, p. 128. O. Frankfurter, “The Mission of Sir James Brooke to Siam (September 1850)”, JSS, 8 (1911), p. 26. 13 N. J. Ryan, The Making of Modern Malaysia and Singapore (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1971), p. 116. 11

12

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Settlements merely had to “live within its means” and to avoid any complications in the hinterland, meaning the various states in the Malaya Peninsula, some of whom, particularly in the northern part, were experiencing difficulties in their relations with Siam, their suzerain to the north. British India itself was undergoing a drawn-out military engagement with Burma, Siam’s neighbour to the west. It was within this context, or configuration of power, that the trade and other interests of Singapore during the forty years of Indian rule were treated and subjected to the prevailing political considerations. Take for instance the mission led by John Crawfurd to Siam in 1821. That mission “was camouflaged under the cloak of trade discussions”14 when, in fact, the real and political reasons were Kedah (Penang) and Burma. It turned out to be a failure because Calcutta did not want to take a hard line against Siam due to the perceived needs of the current political situation in each case. The Burney mission, which followed in 1825, fared better and resulted in the Burney Treaty comprising both political and commercial provisions. Still true to the “hinterland” policy, the British Indian Government sought basically to reassure the Siamese of its non-hostile dispositions regarding both Burma and the northern Malay states. In relation to commerce, the Treaty contained specific provisions aimed at establishing some regulation and order for the betterment of trade conditions. The British Straits merchants’ response to the Treaty, while lukewarm on the political aspect, was enthusiastic about the commercial provisions, for they had looked upon Siam as one of the most potentially lucrative markets. Some European commercial firms in Singapore thus tried to break into the Bangkok market directly, but found Siam to be a difficult proposition, for they had to compete with Siamese and Chinese junk masters accustomed to the intricate local “ways.”15 The Treaty was not directly of much help either. Although the tax problem was simplified by adopting a consolidated duty, calculated on the breadth of the vessel, the other clauses tended to favour the Siamese in practice, such as restrictions on the purchase of goods for export and on the sale of certain imports. All in all, the British Singapore merchants did not find such conditions conducive to trade. What they found to be utterly objectionable was the customary practice of blatant discrimination against Europeans in favour of the locals, including the Chinese, whether in Siam or from Singapore, in every aspect of trade, notably tax rates and travel within the Kingdom. Above all else, the British Singapore merchants believed, and alleged, that the commercial provisions of the Treaty were not being observed, in letter and spirit, by the Siamese Government, citing, for instance, trading by royal vessels or raising of newly “farmed-out” taxes, which latter was, 14 15

M.L. Manich Jumsai, History of Anglo-Thai Relations (Bangkok: Chalermnit, 1970), p. 35. Turnbull, Straits Settlements, p. 174. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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in their eyes, nothing but a circuitous way of taxing exports, and at a very high rate to allow for the tax farmer’s margin.16 The strong reaction of these merchants reflected the increasingly active and vocal role they had assumed in Singapore’s own public affairs. In 1837, they established the Singapore Chamber of Commerce, which was also open to prominent Chinese merchants for membership. Throughout the 1840s, the Chamber, as spokesman for the Singapore business community, took up the matter of trade with Siam, and began to exert pressure on the authorities in Singapore, calling for revision of the Treaty and for its stricter enforcement. In fact, this Singapore lobby, including the “Tuan Besars”, or the heads of prominent European trading houses, who had become quite influential thanks to their successful business operations, was virtually the sole voice in making demands on the various tiers of British governance in order to protect and advance their commercial interests. At this juncture, brief mention could perhaps be made of Robert Hunter, a British merchant in Bangkok, who is particularly known for his dramatic “rise and fall” from royal grace and favour. What is deemed relevant here has to do with his subsequent actions when he joined others in vehemently accusing King Rama III of infringements of the Burney Treaty.17 Indeed, by late 1843, Singapore’s dissatisfaction with the trade situation in Siam was officially conveyed to Calcutta by Governor Butterworth, citing the King’s direct interference as the cause of British grievances. Calcutta, towing the old line of “hands-off Siam”, refused “to concern itself with the matter” on the grounds that the King did not appear to have “infringed on any of the provisions of the Treaty.”18 Neither Singapore nor Hunter would, or did, stop however. The Singapore Chamber of Commerce continued its efforts by seeking and receiving support from its network of allies sharing common commercial interests. In particular, it managed to join force with Chambers of Commerce in textile industry centres in England, whose export of yarns and other products was suffering from a slowdown and in need of new markets. Together, these commercial bodies in Singapore and England made joint representations directly to the British Government in London,19 and in one such petition mentioned that “Siam offers an immense outlet to British manufactures.”20 At the highest level of government in London, many considerations beyond commerce, especially the global strategic standpoint, were bound to come into play. Vella, Siam under Rama III, pp. 139-140. R. Adey Moore, “An Early British Merchant in Bangkok”, JSS, 11 (1914-15), p. 30. 18 The Burney Papers (Thai version translated by Savitri Suwannasathit), Vol 14 , pp. 113, 139. In the British Singapore view, the Siamese were “circumventing” the treaty, not openly “violating” it for fear of courting disaster. 19 Nicholas Tarling, “Siam and Sir James Brooke”, JSS, 48, 2 (1960), p. 48. 20 Frankfurter, “Mission of Sir James Brooke”, p. 23. 16 17

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By the 1840s, British policy towards China had changed, with the abandonment of the East India Company’s monopoly and the impact of the Free Trade treaties, and these changes were reflected in British policy towards China’s neighbours and tributaries, such as Siam and Cochin-China, where the commercial pressures that influenced the “opening –up” of China might also exist.21 With regards to Burma, the saga of Anglo-Burmese confrontation was drawing to a close, thereby lessening the strategic relevance of Siam, against which the British could now afford to take a harder line. Against this background and taking full account of the representations of various Chambers of Commerce in Singapore and England, the British Government (not the East India Company nor the Indian Government as in the case of the two previous missions) dispatched Sir James Brooke on a mission to Siam with the view of “improving trade relations.” 22 Thus, Sir James Brooke, the famous Raja of Sarawak, went to Bangkok in 1850, but returned empty-handed. Presumably, Brooke had not anticipated a fruitful outcome, for he is understood to have observed, even before reaching Bangkok, that “time should be given to the work of conciliation…. in the course of this policy we may wait till the demise of the King brings about a new order of things.”23 Soon enough, however, “a new order of things” did come about, as less than a year after Brooke’s departure, King Rama III passed away and was succeeded on the throne by his brother, Prince Mongkut (King Rama IV).

III. The convergence By mid-1851, Britain and Siam stood poised for a re-assessment of their mutual relations. Recent developments in both countries, as well as globally, seemed to bring them closer. The failure of Brooke’s mission did not result in the use of force, as originally feared in some Siamese quarters. In fact, Lord Palmerston, the British Foreign Secretary, explicitly ruled out “hostile proceedings” and was in favour of pursuing “the traditional policy towards Siam”, thereby scotching any pro-hostility sentiments being debated in interested circles, including the Singapore business community.24 The preponderant British Singapore merchants, who had all along favoured negotiation with Siam, were now even more determined to push for a new treaty along the lines of the Nanking Treaty, earlier concluded between Britain and China.25 Around that same time, there arose in China a new situation that would prove to be beneficial to the Singapore merchants’ cause. As a consequence of the most Tarling, Siam and Sir James Brooke, p. 47. Frankfurter, “Mission of Sir James Brooke”, p. 25 23 Tarling, Siam and Sir James Brooke, pp. 49-50. 24 Tarling, Siam and Sir James Brooke, p. 60. 25 D. R. SarDesai, British Trade and Expansion in Southeast Asia 1830-1914 (New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1977), pp. 83-84. 21 22

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favoured nation treatment dictated by the Nanking Treaty, British manufactured goods in the open market of China faced severe competition from those produced by other Western nations, resulting in the poor performance of British exports to China. Again, British commercial interests in both Manchester and in Canton (Guangzhou), where Singapore merchants—both British and Chinese—were very active, took up the matter, urging the Government in London to explore the possibility of new markets in Asia. The Government accordingly decided to entrust Sir John Bowring, Governor of Hong Kong, in 1854 with the task of widening British commercial interests beyond China into other countries, such as Japan, Siam and Cochin-China.26 Meanwhile, in Siam, King Rama IV’s ascension to the throne in 1851 caused a sea change that would transform every aspect of the landscape of the country. The new King, who had a profound interest in world affairs, had seen what happened when China tried to shut out the Western powers. He was determined that Siam would not follow the Chinese example, had to break with the conservative isolationism of the recent past, and thus admit foreign trade and foreign ideas.27 Indeed, actions along such lines in the field of trade were taken by the King soon after his ascension, chief among which were: the reduction of measurement duties, the partial lifting of the ban on rice exports and likewise with the import of opium. Against this backdrop, Bowring proceeded to Bangkok in April 1855, negotiated and concluded a Treaty within three weeks.28 Leaving aside the generally well known cataclysmic effects of the Bowring Treaty on the entire Siamese polity for many decades thereafter, it would serve our immediate purpose if we are merely to consider the Treaty, firstly, as evidence of the convergence of the two hitherto opposing trade policies and practices, which could only, and did, come about, thanks to the many changes in the geopolitical situation, including the China factor. Secondly, as the directly affected stakeholder, the Singapore mercantile community had played an important role in influencing and coalescing the “global” disparate interests of the British. It has even been asserted that the “re-opening” of Siam to Western trade by virtue of the Bowring Treaty, in the final analysis, benefited mainly the Singapore British merchants, and was aimed at cultivating the goodwill of the Straits Government.29 Finally, the Bowring Treaty would provide the subsequent legal framework under which bilateral relations of every aspect, including trade, between Siam and the British Straits Settlements were to be conducted for the next seventy years. SarDesai, British Trade and Expansion, p. 89. A. B. Griswold, King Mongkut of Siam (New York: Asia Society, 1961), p. 1. 28 Hong, Thailand in the Nineteenth Century, p. 67. 29 Xie Shunyu, Siam and the British 1874-75: Sir Andrew Clarke and the Front Palace Crisis (Bangkok: Thammasat University Bookstore, 1988), p. 61. In welcoming King Chulalongkorn at the time of his visit to Singapore in 1871, Thomas Scott, Chairman of the Singapore Chamber of Commerce, expressed his gratitude for the Siamese “support” for their trade. 26 27

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IV. King Rama IV and Singapore: A window on the world In age, King Rama IV was senior to Singapore by fifteen years, having been born in 1804. By the time the Prince entered the priesthood in 1824, where he remained for the next twenty-seven years, Singapore was beginning its rise to prosperity and achieving Raffles vision of becoming “a great commercial Emporium.” Singapore’s success as a trading port and transportation and communication centre, with its EastWest persona, combined to make it a unique phenomenon in which the fruits of Western technological progress were being brought right into the heart of Asia. Prince, priest, student The future King Rama IV’s “thirst for knowledge”30 would lead him into many fields of study, from geography, world history and mathematics to various branches of science, especially astronomy. His primary interest, however, was the Buddhist religion where his “rational and puritanical reforms….saved a dying religion.”31 Viewing the English language as a key to learning, the Prince applied himself to studying it from the American missionaries in Bangkok, who were mostly medical doctors, “purveying” not only the Christian religion, but also modern science and technology. They were, therefore, regarded as the agents of modernity by the populace, from the elite down to the grassroots. Significantly, it was mainly through these American missionaries, particularly the renowned Dr. Dan B. Bradley, that Singapore became widely known to the Siamese, especially Prince Mongkut. The American missionaries were familiar with Singapore, for they normally stopped over, en route, to make necessary preparations for the rigours of life in Siam. The voluminous writings of the missionaries reveal the intimate friendship between them and the Prince, who not only learned from them but, through their intermediary, acquired books, maps or even the newest kinds of scientific instruments, such as a lithographic press. Such “modern” articles were shipped to the Prince from, or via, Singapore where he had agents, Chinese and English, acting on his behalf. His Chinese agent, named Tan Tock Seng, was the prominent leader of the Chinese community in early Singapore, whose distinguished career as a philanthrophist has been memorialized in the prestigious hospital named after him. It is not known as to when or how he became the Prince’s agent, or whether he himself ever visited Bangkok and met the Prince. We know only that this resourceful merchant was actively involved in the Singapore-Bangkok junk trade, and once had a vessel built in Bangkok with all the modern equipment and high capacity, but with rigging in the style of a junk, which could thus pass off as such, and consequently incur the lower tax rate levied by the Siamese Customs in comparison with a modern British 30 31

Manich, History of Anglo-Thai Relations, p. 51 Donald C. Lord, Mo Bradley and Thailand (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Erdmans, 1969), p. 160. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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vessel of the same size and load.32 His family’s association with Siam continued, with his eldest son and heir, Tan Kim Ching, serving as the first Siamese Consul in Singapore. As for the Prince, through his contact and correspondence with his “pen” friends in Singapore, he became quite knowledgeable about world affairs. In one instance, commenting on the lack of safety in shipping things via China due to piracy, he noted, “but in Singapore there will not be any calamity for protection of English government.”33 The Prince was well aware of his politically delicate situation, and tried to steer clear of the affairs of state.34 Yet, he regularly corresponded with Governor Butterworth in Singapore, whom he considered a “familiar and intimate friend.” The Prince was also in the habit of sending his personal attendants on errands to Singapore where they were received by the Governor.35 King, scholar, diplomat Despite the heavy load of royal duties, King Mongkut kept up the fond practice of writing to friends in Singapore and elsewhere around the world, including Sir John Bowring and even some heads of state. Singapore, in particular, continued to be his “contact-point” with the outside world, and even caused him to experience a bitter taste of Western press “freedom” once, when an anonymous uncomplimentary article about him was published in the Singapore Straits Times.36 Singapore was certainly evolving into a crossroads where Europeans of all nationalities preferred to congregate. Indeed, Anna Leonowens, the English governess at the court of the King of Siam, was recruited from cosmopolitan Singapore. She was interviewed for the post by William Adamson, an English merchant and long-standing friend of the King, with whom he carried on correspondence until the end of his life.37 Personal contact thus formed part of the King’s strategy of “opening-up” to the West, from which he was convinced that Siam would derive only benefit. The Burney Papers (Thai version), p. 116. Prince Mongkut’s Letter to Mr. & Mrs. Eddy of New York, dated 18 November 1849, in Phrarachahattalekha nai Phrabatsomdet Phrajomklaojaoyuhua jat phim doi khana kammakan amnuai kan jat ngan chaloemphrakiat Phrabatsomdet Phrajomklaojaoyuhua jat phim pen thi raluek nai okat thi wan phraborommarachasomphop khrop 200 pi (Collection of the King Mongkut’s correspondence published by the committee for the bicentenary celebration as a memorial on the 200th anniversary of his birth), Office of Literature and History, Fine Arts Department, 18 October 2004, p. 10. 34 M.L.Manich Jumsai, King Mongkut of Siam and the British (Bangkok: Chalermnit, 1999), p. 60, quoting the Prince’s letter to Messrs. Hamilton Grey, his Singapore agent, at the time of Sir James Brooke’s mission to Bangkok in which the Prince was involved as a mere “translator”. 35 “English Correspondence of King Mongkut”, JSS, 22, 1 (1928), p. 3. 36 Lord, Mo Bradley and Thailand, p. 172. For some unknown reason, the King attributed this article to Samuel J. Smith, an experienced missionary who was, in reality, the King’s strong proponent. 37 King Mongkut’s Letter to Mr. W. Adamson, dated 27 February 1862, in Phrarachahattalekha nai Phrabatsomdet Phrajomklaojaoyuhua, p. 416. 32 33

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The first embassy, or goodwill mission, sent to London in 1857, heralded the arrival of Siam on the world stage. That delegation stopped over in Singapore where it was welcomed with full honours by the Straits Settlements authorities for whom it was also the first ever occasion to receive an official mission from Siam. A detailed record of that historic embassy was written by Mom Rajothai, the official interpreter, who also rendered it in verse form, known as “Niras London,” depicting the modern vibrant city of Singapore and the favourable impression made on the Siamese envoys as well. This famous travelogue was later published by Dr. Bradley, who ran a printing press, and had bought its copyright from the poet-author for Baht 400, being the first such transaction in Siamese history. Commerce between Singapore and Siam, meanwhile, had grown considerably since the Bowring Treaty, with emphasis on the rice trade. Modern technology had brought about faster and more efficient means of transportation and communication. Indeed, steamships were now plying international routes via Singapore. Even on the Bangkok-Singapore sector, an enterprising Sino-Siamese merchant, named Yim, launched his steamer called “Chao Phya” carrying passengers and mail with much success.38 The regular courier service provided by the “Chao Phya” became the King’s line of communication with the outside world through the “window” provided by Singapore. Prince Damrong Rajanubhab, the pre-eminent historian and a son of King Mongkut, recalled how significant a part the delivery of the mail— correspondence and newspapers—played in the King’s routine, as he would spend a few days each week on his correspondence. The Prince also clearly recalled the thrill of seeing, and tasting, for the first time the newfangled “ice” imported from Singapore by the same steamer.39 King Mongkut’s acquired proficiency in astronomy has been accorded a special place in Thai history on account of its relevance to Siam’s relations with the Straits Settlements. It led to his meeting Sir Harry Ord, the new Governor, who was the King’s guest to witness a solar eclipse and was greatly impressed with his accurate prediction. Sir Harry was even more impressed with the King himself, as evidenced in his report to London, stressing that benefits from his visit would “render easier the settlement of those questions” concerning Siamese claims to suzerainty over the northern Malay states, which previous Governors, unlike Sir Harry, had tended to belittle. Even though Sir Harry’s thinking, along the line of respective spheres of influence, implied a recognition of Siamese suzerainty that never formally The vessel’s owner, a protégé of the King, was a highly successful business leader in many areas. He is known to posterity as the man who constructed the “Phasee Charoen” canal, named after him. His final title was Phya Bisondh Sombat Boribun, founder of the “Bisalyaputra” family and ancestor of the female line of the “Kitiyakara” (royal) family to which Her Majesty Queen Sirikit belongs. 39 Prince Damrong Rajanubhab, Khwam Songjam (Memoirs) (Bangkok: Thai Historical Association, 1966), p. 19. 38

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materialized, the goodwill generated by his meetings with the King served to seal a “rapprochement” for the time being.40 The King continued relentlessly with his “personal diplomacy”, not only to promote relations, but also to deal with actual problems arising out of the extraterritorial jurisdiction granted to the Western countries by the Bowring Treaty (and other subsequent treaties). Such problems often involved the objectionable actions of the foreign consulates in Bangkok or the personal behaviour of the consuls themselves. The crux of the matter was that there was hardly any channel open to Siam to bring such problems to the attention of the higher authorities of those Western Powers. The only recourse would be for Siam to have her own consulates in those countries. Significantly, as affirmed by the Siamese Foreign Minister, there were also the “needs to take care of the vessels belonging to the rich Chinese merchants (“Jae Sua”) in Bangkok sent to trade at Singapore yearly under the protection of Siam (“Krung Thai”), flying the Elephant flag (“Thong Chang”)”.41 Singapore was therefore singled out as the foremost candidate for a Siamese consulate. The venerable British merchant and public servant of early Singapore, W.H. Read, through his close association with Tan Kim Ching, the King’s loyal agent, proffered his advice as early as 1861 on appointing Siamese consuls in Europe.42 In late 1862, the King approached Tan Kim Ching to appoint him as Siamese Consul in Singapore; he agreed and advised Bangkok on the correct procedure to be followed, since the Siamese Government had never previously appointed any consul. Once the agreement of the British Government had been obtained for the establishment of Siamese consulates in British territories, the Siamese Government proceeded to appoint Tan Kim Ching as Consul for Singapore and two other British gentlemen as Consuls for Penang and Rangoon respectively. Tan Kim Ching’s appointment was the first to receive British recognition, and he was formally confirmed by Royal Proclamation, dated 21 October 1863, making him the first Siamese Consul in Asia, preceded by a similar consular appointment in Paris by just a few months. Siam was thus accorded a permanent presence in the land, which had for so long been its “window” on the world.

V. Siamese presence: consulate and “listening post” In October 1863, the Siamese flag, red with an emblazoned white elephant at Manich Jumsai, King Mongkut of Siam, p. 87, footnote; C. D. Cowan, Nineteenth-Century Malaya (Oxford: Oxford University Press), p. 61. 41 National Archives of Thailand (NAT): Foreign Affairs Series, Microfilm Filed Document [Mor KorTor (Lor) 15 / 110], Note from Foreign Minister to Mr. Tan Kim Ching, dated 11 December 1862. 42 Ibid. Notes from Mr. W.H. Read to Mr. Tan Kim Ching, as conveyed to Foreign Affairs, Bangkok for the King’s attention. 40

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the centre, was hoisted for the first time atop a modern building belonging to Tan Kim Ching’s mother at Boat Quay in the heart of the commercial quarters of old Singapore; this would function as the office of the Siamese Consulate for the next thirty years.43 For Tan Kim Ching, known in Thai as Phra Pidet Panich, the Royal appointment as Consul was merely formalization of his service to the King during the previous fourteen years since his father’s death. He continued his father’s business with great success, particularly in the rice trade, and became an influential figure within the Chinese communities of northern Malaya, thereby making it possible for him to contribute towards the solution of the political problems arrived at by the Siamese and Straits Governments. His appointment as Governor of the tin-rich Siamese province of Kraburi (present-day Ranong), where the strategic Kra Isthmus is situated, as well as his aborted attempts to secure concessions for revenue farming in southern Siam deserve separate attention.44 Within the confines of his consular responsibilities, Phya Asdong, as Tan was soon entitled be called, fulfilled his consular duties in an exemplary manner, obviously facilitated by his position and prestige in both the Chinese and European communities of Singapore. On the Siamese side, the Consul was blessed with the King’s trust and confidence, and enjoyed close and friendly relations with the Siamese Foreign Ministers he served. In the day-to-day running of the Consulate, the Consul had to deal with all types of consular work, including the routine chore of looking after ships’ crews and conveying official information back and forth. The so-called “religious” aspect of consular work was also an important part of the job, then as now, and is illustrated by the case of a misbehaving heretical Buddhist monk on the rampage in Singapore, who had to be captured and repatriated. Also, the plight of Muslim pilgrims from southern Siam left stranded and penniless in Singapore en route to Mecca, victims of unscrupulous brokers, was even then a serious problem. Human trafficking, though not then known as such, presented itself too. There was the case of two Siamese maidens smuggled into Singapore and kept in slavery until rescued. Fugitives of all sorts, from real slaves fleeing their “lawful” masters to debtors escaping their creditors, were chased to Singapore, requiring the Consulate to act as intermediary. Once, the Consul reported to Bangkok about a nasty incident involving a Consular officer and an ill-mannered, aggressive junior Government official on his way from Bangkok in charge of a consignment of cultural The building was mortgaged to the Siamese Government, without interest, redeemable by annual repayments within ten years, during which no rent was to be paid by the Government. 44 There is an interesting account and analysis of that episode of Mr. Tan Kim Ching’s career in Jennifer W. Cushman’s Family and State: The Formation of a Sino-Thai Tin-Mining Dynasty, 1797–1932 (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1991), pp. 32-37. His final royally bestowed title was Phya Anukul Siamkij. Through one of his daughters, Khun Chun Virangkul, he was the maternal grandfather of Thanphuying Molee Khoman, wife of Dr. Thanat Khoman, Foreign Minister of Thailand and founding father of ASEAN. 43

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objects destined for the international exhibition in Paris. In response, the Foreign Minister expressed regret for his inaction, noting that the Government official, though junior in rank, was under the wings of someone “high-up”. The Consul and his deputy were not always on good terms—not a rare phenomenon—to the extent that the Consul once had to report to Bangkok about his recalcitrant deputy disappearing surreptitiously with the Consulate’s seal and severely disrupting the work of the Consulate!45 However, such “knotty” consular matters were not the only areas of concern for the Consul. There were others, less bothersome, which required considerably more skill and experience. Apart from being a communications hub, Singapore had by that time also become an imaginary arena where the international political game was played out through the moves and manoeuvres of the Western Powers, who were all represented there. Singapore, in modern parlance, had become an ideal “listening post.” Phya Asdong, the Siamese Consul, applied himself to such a challenging task with fervour. He regularly reported to Bangkok on developments on this front and, in particular, provided information about French designs on Cambodia, which was then the focus of interest for the Siamese (and for the British in Singapore). The Consul often developed a well-reasoned analysis, thanks to his broad range of contacts and connections. Sometimes, instructions would come from Bangkok for the Consul to pursue a particular matter. When the Foreign Minister read a newspaper report about China’s plans to open consulates in several countries, including Siam, he directed the Consul to check on its accuracy, for this had always been a potentially sensitive issue for the Siamese Government, which wanted to understand the reaction of the British and other Governments. For the Consul’s outstanding political intelligence work, he received high commendations from the Foreign Minister.46 Protocol was another important aspect of the Consulate’s duties, for there were already frequent visits of official delegations and dignitaries. Chao Phya Sri Suriyawongse (Chuang Bunnag), Senior Minister during King Rama IV’s reign and Regent under King Rama V, visited Singapore more than once and made acquaintance with many prominent figures.47 The most challenging protocol work, however, was the preparation for the visit of young King Chulalongkorn in 1871; the Consul had earlier been instructed to ascertain discreetly the Straits Government’s reaction to the idea of a visit and to ensure that appropriate courtesies and honours would be accorded. NAT, op. cit., and NAT Microfilm Filed Document Kor Ror 5 Kor Tor (Lor)/3, /17 and /55. Ibid. The then Foreign Minister was Chao Phya Thipakornwong (Kham Bunnag). 47 As reported by Consul Tan Kim Ching in NAT documents, see footnote 39. In Datin Patricia Lim Pui Huen, Through the Eyes of the King: The Travels of King Chulalongkorn to Malaya (Singapore: ISEAS, 2009), there are references and pictures of the celebrated Chinese millionaire, Whampoa, and his ornamental garden where the magnificent lotus, Victoria Regia, presented by the Regent of Siam, grew in the famous circular pond. 45 46

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The famous pond in the magnificent garden of the millionaire, Whampoa, in which grew the magnificent lotus, the Victoria Regia, presented by the Regent of Siam (A.E.H. Anson, About Myself and Others, 1745-1920)

VI. King Chulalongkorn and Singapore King Chulalongkorn was only fifteen years old when he ascended the throne, thus necessitating the appointment by the Succession Council of Chao Phya Sri Suriyawongse as Regent who, incidentally, thus became the most powerful public figure in the land. The Regent was well known for his liberal and progressive ideas from his younger days, and had accumulated considerable practical experience in foreign affairs under King Rama IV. At the King’s behest, he visited Singapore in 1861 “to study and consider the ways and means by which the British had developed and brought progress to Singapore.”48 Not surprisingly, as Regent, this veteran of Siamese diplomacy favoured Singapore as the first foreign land for the youthful King to visit. Thus began the saga of King Chulalongkorn’s association with Singapore throughout the forty-two years of his reign (1868-1910). Royal “study tour” Still an adolescent, King Chulalongkorn had been well trained by his father and inherited many of his attributes, such as a thirst for knowledge and a profound interest in foreign affairs. Above all, the young King had set his heart on bringing progress in every respect to his country, but Siam at that time sorely lacked the necessary infrastructure required for modernization. Singapore, on the other hand, had become known as a model in which Western technological advance found its manifestation in an Eastern setting. The King and his entourage thus spent over a week in Singapore, seeing, Prince Damrong Rajanubhab, Khon Dee Thi Khapachao Ruujak (Good people I have known) (Bangkok: Anon, 2006), Vol. 2, p. 96. As regards the Regent’s previous role in the negotiations of the Bowring Treaty, see Nicholas Tarling, “The Mission of Sir John Bowring to Siam”, JSS, 50, 2 (1962), pp. 96-97. 48

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Johnston’s Pier where King Chulalongkorn landed in 1896 (Charles J. Kleingrothe, Malay Peninsula, 1907)

inspecting and learning everything on offer in the very tight programme of a “study tour.” He visited the post office, the telegraph office, the fire brigade, a hospital, a school, a market, a shipyard and a jail.49 Many of these examples soon materialized in Bangkok, such as modern buildings and roads. Aside from the “material” aspect, the workings of a modern system of administration in Singapore could not but provide inspiration for the King’s future reform of the antiquated governmental system, both on the civil and military sides. Singapore thus became “the first foreign land visited by a Siamese Monarch, on the 16th March, 1871”, according to the inscription at the base of the bronze elephant statue presented by King Chulalongkorn to the people of Singapore as a memento of his first visit, which today still stands in front of Parliament House.50 The overall impact of the “study tour” found expression in what is known today as “technical assistance and co-operation” in many areas. On a wider perspective, Siamese diplomacy thereafter broadened its horizons beyond the traditional focus of trade, and entered a new phase wherein foreign relations would be geared towards the goals of modernization and progress of the country, and even survival of its independence. Goodwill derived from the King’s first visit to Singapore During that historic first visit, King Chulalongkorn was not only impressed with what he saw, but was also able to create a favourable impression on those with 49 50

Lim, Through the Eyes of the King, p. 159. Lim, Through the Eyes of the King, 38, 39. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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The bronze elephant, presented to Singapore by King Chulalongkorn in 1872 as a memento of his first visit, now in front of the Arts House, formerly Parliament House, with the inscription in Chinese, Thai, English and Malay. (Courtesy: From Hurricane House to Royal Thai Embassy Singapore)

whom he came into contact. They saw that although young, he was an earnest ruler eager to learn and prepare himself to lead his country into the modern world. The King, on his part, had learnt from his father the value of cultivating the goodwill of British colonial officers whose personal views and personalities, no less than official policy, had a bearing on Siamese interests due to the latitude afforded them by the poor communication system of the time.51 Apart from the opportunity of becoming 51

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acquainted with senior British officials during his first visit, the King also succeeded in publicly demonstrating his acumen through the speeches he made in response to the warm welcome he received from the Singapore business community, both European and Chinese. His affirmation of his father’s policy of friendly relations with the West was much appreciated by the Europeans, while the Chinese business leaders expressed gratitude for the Royal benevolence traditionally bestowed on the Chinese people living in Siam. The King thus made new friends, and also met old ones, such as the eminent. W.H. Read and Major F.J.A. McNair, the engineer who would continue to be a vital contact for technical co-operation for years to come. In fact, by the time of the King’s visit in 1871, Singapore itself had already undergone significant political transformation—from a possession under Indian rule into a Crown Colony administered directly from London; this would soon be followed by a major shift in British policy with “intervention” in the Malay states, which Calcutta had previously avoided and over which the issue of Siamese suzerainty still lingered. The ever-enterprising Singapore merchants, on their part, had all along striven for such intervention, allegedly to restore law and order and to “co-opt” the tin-rich Malay states as their own “backyard”, to rival the Dutch, Spanish and French, who were establishing a “closed” market in their respective spheres of influence—a phenomenon causing some concern in London.52 It was at this juncture that Sir Andrew Clarke entered the scene as the new Governor of the Straits Settlements; to this day, he is still remembered as the champion of British interventionist policy, signalling the advent of the British colonial era in Malaya. A year after the end of the Regency in 1873, King Chulalongkorn was faced with a serious threat to his rule by what has come to be known as “The Front Palace (Wang Na) Crisis”, which broke out when Prince Vijaya-jan, the Front Palace Prince and heir presumptive, fearing that his life was under threat from the King, took refuge in the British Consulate. Bangkok was in a state of panic amidst fears of active foreign intervention that might affect Siam’s sovereignty. Fearful of the possible involvement of European powers and having secured an official British assurance of neutrality, the King, as part of his diplomatic offensive, wrote to Sir Andrew Clarke so that the latter “should properly appreciate the facts of the crisis”, to which the reply enthusiastically welcomed the King’s trust “although there exists between us no relations other than my sympathy”, and affirmed his readiness to assist while waiting for “accreditation” from London. Once that came, Sir Andrew forthwith proceeded to Bangkok, promptly discharged his “rescue” mission by duly performing the task of mediation in accordance with the rules of international law and managed to arrive at a solution which, in effect, was the maintenance of the “status quo” and the strengthening of the King’s position as well 52

Cowan, Nineteenth-Century Malaya, pp. 23-27. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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as of Anglo-Siamese friendly relations. Significantly, Clarke, the “interventionist” in Malaya, never equated the situation in Siam with that in Malaya prior to British intervention.53 In retrospect, the peaceful settlement of the internal “dynastic” Siamese dispute was made possible by many favourable factors,54 among which was the mutual esteem between the King and Sir Andrew who, through their prior correspondence and the King’s own reputation, had been very much impressed with the “progressiveminded” young king. They kept up their lifelong contact amidst growing trust and confidence as evidenced, for instance, by the King informing Sir Andrew a year later that he had decided to defer further plans for reform, this having aroused strong opposition among the “old guard” and precipitated the crisis. Their last meeting in London in 1897 was especially heartening for the old soldier-governor, who had feared that the King might have “forgotten the service I rendered him and Siam in 1875.”55 Technical co-operation: education The “study tour” during King Chulalongkorn’s first visit generated considerable interest and opportunities for the Siamese to seek co-operation from Singapore for Siam’s own modernization. Records abound of the many types of technical co-operation that were arranged through the Siamese Consulate, such as a follow-up study mission on the prison system, requests for military trainers, artisans including Chinese carpenters, and even sturdy Arabian horses for breeding.56 However, by far the most significant outcome of the study tour was in the field of education. During his short stay in Singapore, the King visited Raffles Institution, which made a lasting impression. It so happened that not long after the King’s return to Siam, he set up the first “teaching hall” for children to learn to read and write. At about the same time, fourteen young students from the junior princely rank were selected to attend Raffles Institution; they accompanied the King on his journey to Singapore in December 1871, when he briefly stopped en route to India. The school authorities were very co-operative and even set up a separate department to accommodate their special needs.57 Unfortunately, after only a short stay, most of these pioneer “overseas students” returned to Siam to attend the newly established Xie, Siam and the British, p. 45. In the course of mediating, Sir Andrew listened to all the parties concerned, chiefly the King, the Prince and the Regent, and came up with a draft resolution in the form of a royal decree agreed to and affirmed by the two sides. 54 Xie, Siam and the British, p. 57, referring to the King’s conciliatory attitude towards his royal cousin who, on his part, had no choice but to accept what Clarke had arranged; and Ibid, pp. 63-64, referring to the timing of the crisis and the current British policy of non-intervention and the upholding of the status quo in Siam. 55 Xie, Siam and the British, p. 61. 56 NAT, op.cit. and NAT Microfilm Filed Document Kor Ror 5 Kor Tor (Lor) / 3, /17 and /55. 57 Lim, Through the Eyes of the King, pp. 14, 24. 53

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Raffles Institution (Arnold Wright & H.A. Cartwright, Twentieth Century Impressions of British Malaya, 1908)

English language school. A few stayed on and completed their studies at Raffles Institution and, with their knowledge of English, became the first generation of bureaucrats in the Siamese administrative service; notable among them was the versatile Prince Prisdang Jumsai, the first Siamese envoy posted to London with accreditation to the rest of Europe and the USA. Raffles Institution and other renowned Singapore schools continued to provide children of the Siamese elite with an education in English for many decades thereafter, with the result that by the turn of the 20th century, the staff of the Siamese Foreign Ministry had mostly been Singapore educated.58 Raffles Institution also became a contemporaneous model for a boarding school established in Siam called Rajavidhyalai, where young men would be prepared for study in England and Europe. That school was later merged with another to form the prestigious Vajiravudh College. Singapore’s progress in female education also attracted royal interest. Queen Saovabha, the King’s Consort, paid a number of visits to famous girls’ schools while staying in Singapore in 1896,59 which proved valuable for Her Majesty, who had been instrumental in founding and running Rachini (Queen’s) School in Bangkok, and had extended her patronage to other Examples include Mom Chao Chek Napawongse, one of the 14 “pioneers” and another Mom Chao of the same family name called Karnchiak, who were both Heads of Department; also Phya Maitri Virajakij (Phoom Bunnag), the senior Deputy Under-Secretary of State, who was renowned for his written English. 59 Lim, Through the Eyes of the King, p. 90. 58

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Tan Kim Ching, Siam’s First Consul-General in Singapore John Anderson, Siam’s Second Consul-General in Singapore (Arnold Wright & H.A. Cartwright, Twentieth Century (Courtesy: River Books, Thailand) Impressions of British Malaya, 1908)

girls’ schools around the country. Educational co-operation from those early days notably continues to the present day. Planting roots Ever since the first direct contact between Singapore and Siam through the “unofficial” mission of John Morgan in 1821, Singapore never ceased to interest or fascinate the Siamese leadership. During the audiences granted to John Morgan, both King Rama II and the future King Rama III showed immense interest in the newly established Singapore. Less than thirty years later, King Rama IV corresponded regularly with friends in Singapore, which became his window on the world. He even acquired some real estate on Beach Road as his private property, which was handed down to his son, King Chulalongkorn.60 The first “root” officially implanted by Siam in Singapore was the establishment of the Siamese Consulate in 1863. However, the Consulate would not be housed in any landed property belonging to the Siamese Government during the next century. The first piece of land ever owned by the Siamese Government was acquired in 1867, not as premises for the Consulate, but for use as a cemetery for Siamese nationals, at the recommendation of Tan Kim Ching, the first Consul. Apparently, this seventy-acre plot in Telok Blangah was never actually put to 60

NAT Document (Mor Ror 5 Tor / 61). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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such use, and was left virtually vacant until it was compulsorily purchased by the local authorities for town-planning purposes in the 1920s.61 A more felicitous acquisition was that of Hurricane House, which figured prominently as King Chulalongkorn’s residence and the venue of sumptuous receptions during his many visits to Singapore. Regrettably, due to the high maintenance cost, the Government disposed of it towards the end of the King’s reign.62 A longer lasting “root” was the piece of land that used to be part of the grand Claymore Estate, where today stands the Royal Thai Embassy, at 370 Orchard Road. This five-acre plot was acquired and registered at the Singapore Land Registry in 1897 under the name of Mr. (later Sir) John Anderson, who succeeded Tan Kim Ching as Siamese Consul in 1893. The rather curious history of this valuable property only came to light when in the mid-1950s, the Thai Government decided to build a Consulate complex on the land, which had been registered since 1909 as Government property with the Ministry of Finance, as distinguished from Crown property. It was then discovered that the land was still registered under Anderson’s name and, in the view of the Singapore authorities, ought to be transferred to the Thai Government, which claimed ownership but was unable to produce a supporting title deed. Sir John Anderson had long passed away, leaving his widow and a son, who confirmed that his father had held the land as representative of King Chulalongkorn. The Thai Government, on its part, as prospective transferee, had to prove that the land was not the private property of the King, but belonged to the Government by producing an affidavit from the Thai Ministry of Finance affirming its ownership, as evidenced by the official registration and Singapore land tax receipts, and notarized by the British Embassy in Bangkok. Lady Anderson, already in very poor health, then signed in London the deed transferring the land to the Thai Government, which was forthwith registered at the Singapore Land Registry in January 1960, only a matter of days before her death.63 The construction was completed later that year, and since then the Royal Thai Consulate, later Embassy, has stood there. The Thai presence in modern Singapore thus owes its origin to an official inheritance bequeathed by the far-sighted King Chulalongkorn, whose last visit to Singapore took place in 1907, three years before his death. Thus ended the saga of the long friendship and goodwill between the King and old Singapore, his favourite “gateway.”

NAT Document [Mor KorTor (Lor) 15 /110] and (Mor Ror 6/53). The final disposition by compulsory purchase was confirmed by the Royal Thai Embassy, Singapore, under Ambassador Nopadol Goonavibool, in early 2011. 62 Ambassador Nibondh Wilairat, “Hurricane House”, published in Saranrom magazine (1970), pp. 26-29. Ambassador Wilairat was the first Thai Ambassador to Singapore. He had previously served there as Consul-General. 63 Nibondh, “Hurricane House”, pp. 134-136. 61

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The Royal Thai Embassy at 370 Orchard Road (Courtesy: From Hurricane House to Royal Thai Embassy Singapore)

VII. Postscript: The 20th century King Chulalongkorn was succeeded by two sons in succession. King Vajiravudh (King Rama VI) ascended the throne in 1910 and, after a fifteen-year reign, was succeeded by his younger brother, Prajadhipok, who became King Rama VII and reigned from 1925 until his abdication in 1934, after the transformation from the absolute to constitutional monarchy in 1932. With the nation’s independence preserved, King Rama VI could now set out to regain those aspects of state sovereignty lost under the foreign “unequal” treaties. Renegotiation and conclusion of new treaties based on equality was a major foreign policy goal which, after prolonged efforts, were eventually successful. One of the major losses that Siam suffered under these “unequal” treaties was reflected in the imposition of the extraterritorial regime in favour of the Western powers. In this regard, Britain led the way in lessening the rigours of the system as early as 1909, just before the King’s ascension. Under the Anglo-Siamese Treaty of that year. Britain renounced her extraterritorial rights in Siam in exchange for the four Siamese dominions in northern Malaya, long viewed as “a thorn in the side” of Anglo-Siamese relations, which consequently could now Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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A group photo taken in Singapore in 1896: (L to R) Prince Rajburi Direkriddhi, Phraya Apaironrith (Wek Yamapai), Prince Bisanulok Prajanath, King Chulalongkorn, John Anderson, Prince Damrong Rajanubhap (Courtesy: River Books, Thailand)

proceed into calmer waters.64 This outcome may help to explain why frequent visits to Malaya and Singapore, as undertaken by King Chulalongkorn, were no longer considered necessary. King Rama VI visited Singapore and Malaya only once during his reign, in 1924. Sometime before the visit, the King demonstrated the importance he attached to Singapore by appointing as Consul-General a very well qualified career diplomat, who became the first Siamese national to assume the post. This position was deemed important by the King because of the extent of contact and intercourse, especially in commerce, between the two parties.65 King Rama VII, like his father, visited Singapore on his way to Java. When the Foreign Ministry proposed to the Cabinet the appointment as Consul-General for Singapore of an official whose suitability Lim, Through the Eyes of the King, pp. 164-165. NAT Document (Mor Ror 6 Tor / 10). The first ever Consul-General of Siamese nationality was appointed by King Rama VI in 1922. His name was Phya Pradibadh Bhubal (Khaw Yoo Lae Na Ranong), a scion of the dynastic “clan” descended from the famous Khaw Soo Cheang of Penang and southern Siam. Born in Penang, educated in England and called to the Bar (becoming just the second Thai to qualify as a Barrister-at-Law), he joined the Siamese Diplomatic Service. Granted the title of Luang Sunthorn Kosa, he was included in King Chulalongkorn’s official suite for the King’s first visit to Europe in 1897. Phya Pradibadh was a true polyglot, speaking Thai, English, Malay and Chinese. His appointment as Consul-General was not only for Singapore, but also Penang, the Federation of Malaya and the Borneo Islands. King Rama VI visited Singapore and Malaya while Phya Pradibadh was Consul-General. 64 65

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seemed to be in doubt to some Cabinet members, the King went on record, remarking that the post of Consul-General in Singapore was of special importance, and more so than even India and that, therefore, the Foreign Minister should be discreetly approached to see whether there could not be a better alternative candidate.66 The watershed political change in 1932 resulted in a revolutionary break with the past, as Siam entered a long period of internal instability. Leading figures of the “ancien regime” had to seek refuge abroad, to be joined later by political exiles and refugees, victims of the ongoing tussle within the new ruling elite. In such circumstances, Singapore, along with Penang, provided a reliable safe haven.67 King Rama VII’s abdication in 1934 resulted in the ascension to the throne of his nine year-old nephew, King Ananda Mahidol, or King Rama VIII, then living in Switzerland. In 1938, the young King stopped over in Singapore with his family en route to Siam. The King’s stay in Singapore was well reported, and relayed to the Bangkok media to the delight of the King’s subjects. Meanwhile, normal intercourse continued between Siam and Singapore, with emphasis again on expanding commerce. Singapore, by then, had increasingly become the centre of British power and administration in Southeast Asia. From the standpoint of international politics, Singapore stood out once more as an ideal listening post for any information gleaned from the Western Powers or Japan. Throughout the Second World War, records of communications between the Siamese Consulate in Singapore and Bangkok are replete with “listening post” reports,68 including the movements of Siamese political exiles. Finally, after the hiatus of the war years, Singapore found its way into another page of Thai history in 1945 when, as the revived post-war headquarters of the British regional administration, it was the venue for the negotiation and conclusion of the formal Anglo-Thai Peace Treaty, whereby peace was formally restored between the two Kingdoms, with Siam making war reparations to Britain in the form of the provision of rice shipments to Malaya.69 Not long after that quirk in history, Siam became Thailand in 1949 while Singapore became fully independent just fifty years ago, on 9 August 1965. Relations between Thailand and Singapore, however, continued to be cordial, as the two nations joined together as founding members of ASEAN, the progenitor of the nascent ASEAN Community. NAT Document (Mor Ror 7 Tor / 6). Prince Purachatr of Kampaeng Petch, a son of King Chulalongkorn and influential Minister of Communications under King Rama VII, went to live in exile in Singapore immediately after the coup in 1932, and passed away there. Singapore became the refuge for a few senior Siamese officials of the old regime, who fled political persecution or escaped from prison on Tarutao Island, such as Phya Sarabhai Pipat, a noted ex-naval officer turned journalist and author, who spent the pre-war years there working as translator for the British authorities before moving to Australia. 68 NAT Document (2.SorRor 0201.86). 69 Direk Jayanama, Thailand and World War II (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2008), pp. 215-226. 66 67

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Siam through the Lens of John Thomson 1865-1866: A Photo Essay Paisarn Piemmettawat

In conjunction with the exhibition of the same name held at the National Gallery Bangkok from 9 January to 28 February 2015, I am delighted, on behalf of River Books and Wellcome Library, London, to be able to share with readers of this edition of JSS a few of the impressive and insightful photographs of Siam taken by the renowned Scottish photographer, John Thomson, 150 years ago. The exhibition was the first time that these photos had ever been displayed together, yet alone in Thailand. To our delight and surprise, the exhibition certainly caught the imagination of the general public, with more than 10,000 visitors during the first month. Perhaps it is not that much of a surprise, given the remarkably crisp detail of the prints, taken from the original glass negatives, together with the fascinating content of each photo. I had the pleasure of trying to decipher the location of many of Thomson’s scenic photographs and providing a comparison to the landscapes of today; and this seems to have fascinated the public, harking back to a simpler, less congested urban environment. Together with Thomson’s superb portraits, these pictures thus remind us of an era that is long gone, but thankfully, now not forgotten. The photographs by John Thomson in the following pages are provided courtesy of the Wellcome Library, London and River Books, Bangkok.

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King Rama IV, in the uniform of a French Field Marshall

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Siam through the lens of John Thomson 1865-1866

King Rama IV, in his coronation apparel

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Panorama (3 photographs): The Chao Phraya River and Rattanakosin Island, from the Prang of Wat Arun

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Siam through the lens of John Thomson 1865-1866

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Siam through the lens of John Thomson 1865-1866

Phra Chom Klao Bridge, Phetchaburi

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Khon and Lakhon Troupe

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Siam through the lens of John Thomson 1865-1866

The Elephant Corral, Ayutthaya

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Portrait of a Princess (possibly a daughter of Prince Nilarat, Prince of Alongkot Kitpreecha).

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Emil Groote, Court Photographer to Three Kings of Siam Joachim K. Bautze

Emil Groote (1870-1948) was the only German court photographer to serve three kings of Siam: Chulalongkorn, Rama V (reigned 1868-1910), Vajiravudh, Rama VI (reigned 1910-1925) and Prajadhipok, Rama VII (reigned 1925-1935). Thanks to his autobiography in German placed at my disposal by his son, Günter Groote, we now know details about his life and career as outlined below. Born on 10 August 1870 in Dortmund (Province of Westphalia, Prussia), Emil Eduard Groote was the seventh child of Wilhelm Groote, a ladies wear manufacturer, and his wife Johanna (née Berg). He grew up at 21 Betenstraße with his five brothers and three sisters. Groote wanted to become an artist and was trained by his grandfather, Eduard. After visiting the photographic studio of Otto Siepmann in Iserlohn (North RhineWestphalia) and watching a retoucher at work, he noted in his autobiography, “Since Mr. Siepmann is a very wealthy and highly esteemed gentleman, I gathered that also his job must be lucrative. Besides, the practitioner gets the opportunity to work as an artist.” He thus abandoned his education and on 15 September 1886 began a two-year apprenticeship in the photographic studio of Borschel & Jordan in Dortmund (figure 25). Subsequently, he was employed in five photographic studios situated in five different German cities. After Groote’s father died on 6 December 1890, his former teacher, Mr. Jordan, invited Groote back to Dortmund where he could support his mother running the studio, and become first assistant in the Borschel & Jordan studio. Soon afterwards, Groote’s brother Otto, who was managing an ice and carbonated water factory in Moulmein (Mawlamyaing), Burma, convinced Emil to travel to Moulmein to work as a photographer, especially since Philipp Klier, another German photographer, was making “big deals” in Burma. Groote sailed from Genoa on 20 May 1893. Arriving at Rangoon, Philippe Klier offered him a job in his studio. Groote travelled on to meet his brother in Moulmein, arriving in July, but discovered that much of his photographic equipment had become almost useless because of the humidity, so he returned to take up Klier’s offer in Rangoon. In April 1894, Groote ran a temporary studio under Klier’s name in Moulmein for four weeks. In April 1896, he left Burma and returned to Germany, where he became a joint partner of G. Greul’s photographic studio in Mannheim (BadenWürttemberg). The next year, on 26 January 1897, Groote married Henriette Caroline Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Clare Storck with whom he had a son, Karl Theodor Groote (1899-1964). Henriette died soon after the birth in 1899 and Karl was raised by one of his grandmothers. Groote founded his own “Atelier für Photographie und Malerei” (Studio for Photography and Painting) in Dortmund (figure 1), which he later sold to Hermann Meyer. In late 1904, Groote sailed to Bangkok to become general manager of the Siam Photo Supply studio and “Robt. Lenz & Co.” (figure 7), belonging to the “Prussian”1 photographer Robert Lenz2 (1864-1939). His partner was Carl Pruss, who had succeeded Groote as assistant to Philipp Klier in Rangoon. Portraits signed by “E. Groote” or “C. Pruss” survive from 1908.3 On 7 July 1906, Groote was appointed “Court Photographer” to King Chulalongkorn through his private secretary, HRH Prince Sommot Amarabandh. A few Figure 1. Rear page of a carte-demonths earlier on 30 September 1905, the king had taken visite of the studio of E. Groote in Dortmund, circa 1899. P&G a photograph of Groote, which he developed and printed collection, Karlsruhe-Berlin. himself (figure 6).4 Possibly, this had come about because Groote and Pruss had a studio close to the palace.5 During one of his first meetings with King Chulalongkorn, Groote began nervously playing with a kris-shaped letter opener on the table in front of him. The king asked Groote if he liked the knife and, when Groote answered in the affirmative, presented it to him as a royal gift. In his early years at Bangkok, Groote as a matter of course took several photographs of King Chulalongkorn. No less important is his series of photographs showing tribal depictions as well as different scenes from Siamese dramas (figure 10). In 1905, the king commissioned Groote to take a series of photographs of the Emerald Buddha image wearing the dress for each season of the year (figure 9). Groote built a scaffold for this task. On 1 April 1905, Robert Lenz sold the studio to Groote (figure 2) Figure 2. Signatures of Robert Lenz and Emil Groote on the and, according to the Bangkok Times, contract selling the studio. Collection of G. Groote. In the contract, a copy of which still exists, both Groote and Lenz are styled “Prussian.” The contract consists of eight paragraphs on four pages with the rubber stamp of the “Kaiserlich Deutschen Minister-Residentur in Bangkok” and the signatures of both Groote and Lenz, followed by the accreditation of Herrn Schulze. See Wright and Breakspear, 1908, p. 277ff. 2 For his career as a photographer in Bangkok, see Anake, 2005, pp. 567-614. 3 Wright and Breakspear, 1908, p. 265; Sakda, 1992, p. 177; and Anake, 2005, p. 591. 4 Reproduced with the accompanying notes in Sakda, 2012, p. 177. Reproduced without the notes in Sakda, 1992, p. 173. 5 For the precise location, see Sakda, 2012, p. 170. 1

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Robert Lenz left Bangkok on 30 January 1907,6 but photographs by Groote and Pruss were still labelled “Robert Lenz & Co”,7 including the famous photos of the nine temporary gates erected by the government and municipality to welcome King Chulalongkorn on his return to Bangkok on 17 November 1907 from his second journey to Europe (figure 8). In the directory of Bangkok for 1908, the Siam Photo Supply Co. is listed as a branch office of “Robt. Lenz & Co.”, with E. Groote and C. Pruss as partners.8 The directory for 1914 reads: “Robt. Lenz & Co.”: Photographers to the Court of Siam. E Groote / C. Pruss – Partners. O. Pruss – assistant. Mann Cheen – book-keeper. Som Boon / Ah Lock – collectors.9

The residential address of Carl Pruss and Mrs. G. Pruss is given as “Poh Yomeroad.”10 Among their large-size photographs reproduced in Europe are scenes showing King Chulalongkorn’s cremation.11 Their work included portraits for graduates from the Law School (figure 11). Groote painted portraits of King Vajiravudh and King Prajadhipok which still hang in the Main Auditorium of Chulalongkorn University (figures 17, 18, 19). According to his son, Günter, Groote painted three portraits of King Vajiravudh in all, one of which is in a Bangkok private collection. When Siam declared war on Germany on 22 July 1917, Groote was detained at a detention centre in Yercaud (Tamil Nadu, India), where he began to write his autobiography. After his release in 1920, he moved to Worms where his sister, Helene, lived with her husband, the photographer Paul Blumberger. There he met Katharina Heimerle (1895-1956), whom he married on 2 December 1920 (figure 26). The couple moved to Giessen an der Lahn (Hesse), where a son, Wilfried, was born on 30 March 1924. In 1927, Groote travelled to Bangkok to investigate the possible revival of his business. He rented a house on Siphya Road, and was joined a year later by his wife and son. A second son, Hans Günter, was born on 9 December 1928. His former partner, Carl Pruss, died in Munich in April 1929, aged 58.12 The same month, Quoted in Sakda, 1992, p. 170. Sakda, 1992, p. 176. 8 The Directory for Bangkok and Siam, 1908, p. 273, p. 266. 9 The Directory for Bangkok and Siam, 1914, p. 331. 10 The Directory for Bangkok and Siam, 1914, p. 367 and p. 378. 11 See for example the double-page reproduction in L’Illustration, 68e Année, No.3539, Samedi, 24 Décembre 1910, pp. 488-9; or the full-page illustrations in L’Illustration, 69e Année, No.3558, Samedi, 6 Mai 1911, pp. 362-3. 12 “Our Siam Letter,” Singapore Free Press and Mercantile Advertiser, 17 April 1929, p. 20. 6 7

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Groote was elected a member of the Siam Society,13 which published some of his photographs of archaeological monuments.14 Groote also photographed the newly built premises of the Society (figures 4, 5).15 On 9 May 1929, a German team of experts travelled to “Khoke Bodhi,” now Khok Pho, a district in Pattani province near Thailand’s southern border, to observe a total solar eclipse, assisted by Groote “who has had a life-long experience of photography in tropical countries.”16 In January-February 1930, HRH Prince Damrong Rajanubhab led expeditions to historical monuments including Phimai, Prasat Hin Khao Phanom Rung and Prasat Mueang Tam (figure 12, 13). Groote, the only non-Siamese member of the expedition team, photographed the sites, then in unrestored condition.17 Groote and Prince Damrong became Figure 3. Envelope and card sent by Prince Damrong friends, thereafter exchanging Christmas Rajanubhab to Emil Groote. Collection of G. Groote. greetings (figure 3). In 1931, Groote and his family travelled to Germany to visit family. On their return to Bangkok, they moved into the premises of the former “Siam Photo Supply / Robt. Lenz & Co.” on New Road (Thanon Charoen Krung),18 now known as “Narasingh Studio / Court Photographers” (figure 16).19 In commemoration of the 150th anniversary of the Chakri Dynasty and the foundation of Bangkok, King Prajadhipok inaugurated the Phra Phutta Yodfa Bridge, commonly known as Memorial Bridge. The album with Groote’s photographs recording this event (figures 20, 21) has a frontispiece showing all seven rulers of the Chakri dynasty in a photomontage composed by Groote (figure 22). Groote also provided photographs for several publications by Prince Damrong,20 and made a photographic record of many royal elephants (figure 24). After the 1932 coup, royal support of the Narasingh Studio declined. Prince Journal of the Siam Society, 24, 1, October 1930, p. 233. Seidenfaden (1932), 11 full-page illustrations. 15 Journal of the Siam Society, 26, 1, 1933, p. 141; 26, 2, 1933, p. 143. 16 Singapore Free Press and Mercantile Advertiser, 10 April 1929, p. 8, column 4. 17 See the album “The archaeological exploration of the ruins at Phimai, Phnom Rung, Muang Tam, Raengaeng, Kampaeng and Phra Viharn under the leadership of H.R.H. Prince Damrong Rajanubhab, Jan.-Feb. 1930” in the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia, under: http://catalogue.nla.gov.au/Record/1585578. 18 Sakda, 1992, p. 205, p. 373. 19 For a groundplan of the premises and photographs showing the logo of the studio see Sakda, 1992, pp. 206-7, pp. 238-9. 20 “The illustrations … have been prepared with the co-operation of Chao Phya Varabongs, Minister of the Royal Household, by whose order the artistes [sic] of the Royal Orchestra assembled before the camera, with Mr. E. Groote behind it.“ Damrong, 1931, pp. i-ii of the English text. 13 14

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Damrong went into exile, and Groote decided to leave Siam,21 travelling by train to Penang to embark on the Lalandia ocean liner for Europe.22 Upon reaching Germany, he acquired the photographic studio “Porträtatelier Elite” in Hagen (North RhineWestphalia), and later the studio of Max Emil Lichtenberg in Honnef (North RhineWestphalia), where he worked until he passed away on 28 November 1948. His grave is in the Neuen Friedhof (New Cemetery) at the Linzer Straße, Bad Honnef.

Figures 4, 5. Emil Groote’s photographs of the externior and interior of the Siam Society’s new building, 1930-1.

References Anake Nawigamune (ʿAnēk Nāwikkamūn). 2005. Prawat kānthairūp yuk rǣk khō̜ng Thai [First era of the history of photography in Thailand]. Bangkok: Sarakhadi. Damrong Rajanubhab, HRH Prince. 1931. Siamese Musical Instruments. Bangkok: Bangkok Times Press. Döhring, Karl: Siam. Band I: Land und Volk. 1923. Darmstadt, Hagen i.W., Gotha: Folkwang-Verlag (Der indische Kulturkreis in Einzeldarstellungen). Sakda Siripant (Sakdā Siriphan). 1992. Kasat lae klōng: wiwatthanākān kānthāiphāp nai Prathēt Thai, Phō. Sō. 2388-2535. [King and camera. Evolution of photography in Thailand 1845-1992]. Bangkok: Darnsutha Press. Sakda Siripant (Sakdā Siriphan). 2012. Phrabāt Somdet Phra Čhunlačhōmklao Čhaoyūhūa phra bidā hæng kānthāi phāp Thai [H.M. King Chulalongkorn, Bangkok Times, 30 December 1933, p. 3, carried a photograph captioned “Mr. E.E. Groote, President of the Deutscher Klub and an old Bangkok resident, who left Siam for good on December 27th.” 22 Straits Times, 27 December 1933, p. 3, column 2, under “Lalandia.” Singapore Free Press and Mercantile Advertiser, 28 December 1933, p. 12, column 2, under “passengers homeward.” 21

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the father of Thai photography]. Bangkok: Darnsutha Press. Seidenfaden, Erik (translator). 1932. “A Siamese account of the construction of the temple on Khao Phanom Rung.” Journal of the Siam Society, 25, 2, pp. 83-106. The Directory for Bangkok and Siam. 1908. Bangkok: Bangkok Times Office. The Directory for Bangkok and Siam. 1914. Bangkok: Bangkok Times Press. Turner, Charles Quincy. 1908. “The Home-Coming of an Asiatic King.” The Burr McIntosh Monthly, 15, 60 (March), no pagination. Van Beek, Steve. 1982. Bangkok Only Yesterday. Hong Kong: Hong Kong Publishing Company. Wright, Arnold and Oliver T. Breakspear, ed. 1908. Twentieth Century Impressions of Siam: Its History, People, Commerce, Industries, and Resources. London: Lloyds Greater Britain Publishing.

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Figure 6. Emil Groote in a photograph taken by King Chulalongkorn, 30 September 1905. At the top with an arrow pointing, “rechts oben Initialen des Königs Chulalongkorn …” [top right the initials of King Chulalongkorn…]. Right border, “aufgenommen, entwickelt und kopiert vom König selbst” [taken, developed and printed by the King himself]. Below, “aufgenommen, dediziert von S. M. dem Könige von Siam. Bangkok, 30 Sept. [19]05” [taken, dedicated by H.M. the King of Siam. Bangkok, 30 Sept., 1905]. Collection of W. Groote, Monaco.

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Figure 7. Frontage of the studio “Robt. Lenz & Co.” on New Road, Bangkok, June 1909, by C. Pruss (?). Collection of G. Groote.

Figure 8. Arch of the War Department, one of a series of photographs by Emil Groote of the ceremonial gates to welcome King Chulalongkorn on his return from Europe in 1907. P&G collection, Karlsruhe-Berlin.

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Figure 9. The Emerald Buddha, from a series commissioned by King Chulalongkorn showing the image in each of its robes, 1905. Collection of G. Groote.

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Figure 10. From a series of photographs of lakhon (drama) by Emil Groote. P&G collection, Karlsruhe-Berlin.

Figure 11. Chulalongkorn University graduation portrait, 1917 (?). Dedication: สำ�หรับคุณอั๋น รัต นวาณิต เนติบัณฑิต เพื่อนรักสนิท [For Khun An Ratanawanit, law graduate, my close friend]. The signature is unclear but the surname may be กาญจนวสิต Kanchanawasit. P&G collection, Karlsruhe-Berlin.

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Figure 12. Prince Damrong Rajanubhab photographed by Emil Groote in front of the central prang of Prasat Sikhoraphum, Surin, January-February 1930. Private collection through G. Groote.

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Figure 13. The sanctuary in Phimai: the central tower viewed from South. January 1930. Private collection through G. Groote

Figure 14. The “Deutscher Klub” (German Club) probably photographed by E. Groote in late 1904.

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Figure 15. Lenz & Co. invoice to Phya Suphakorn, 1907. Collection of Patrick Laycock, Belgium

Figure 16. Protective case for photographs printed by the Narasingh Studio, Bangkok. Collection of G. Groote.

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Figure 17. Emil Groote’s portrait of King Vajiravudh, 257x189 cms, painted 1926-33, now hanging in Chulalongkorn University Main Auditorium. Courtesy of Chulalongkorn University. Figure 18. Emil Groote’s portrait of King Prajadhipok, 257x189 cms, painted 1929, now hanging in Chulalongkorn University Main Auditorium. Courtesy of Chulalongkorn University.

Figure 19. Emil Groote at work on the portrait of King Prajadhipok, 1929. Collection of G. Groote.

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Figure 20. King Prajadhipok photographed by Emil Groote at the celebration of 150 years of the Chakri dynasty, 6 April 1932 in Bangkok. Private collection through G. Groote.

Figure 21. Inauguration of Memorial Bridge by King Prajadhipok on 6 April 1932, prior to the unveiling of the statue of King Rama I. Private collection through G. Groote.

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Figure 22 (above). Photomontage of the rulers of the royal house of Chakri by Emil Groote. Private collection through G. Groote

Figure 23 (below). Emil Groote at his desk in the Narasingh Studio, New Road, Bangkok, circa 1930. Two joined prints. Collection of G. Groote.

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Figure 24: A royal elephant photographed by Emil Groote. Private collection through G. Groote.

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Figure 25 (top left). A portrait of “Emil Groote als Lehrling, 1887” (Emil Groote as apprentice, 1887) in the studio of Borschel & Jordan in Dortmund. Collection of G. Groote. Figure 26 (top right). Emil and Katharina Groote photographed by P. Blumberger in Worms, 1922-24. Collection of G. Groote Figure 27 (left). Emil Groote, detail from a group photograph at the “Deutsche Vereinigung in Siam” (German Union in Siam), about 1929-30. Collection of G. Groote.

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Thailand’s “Chow Pah Negritos” (Maniq) in 1897 and 1899: Smithsonian Records of W. L. Abbott’s Expeditions to the Trang-Phatthalung Border Highlands Paul Michael Taylor

Abstract—Adding to the very few pre-1900 accounts of the Maniq groups of Thailand, this paper presents new information from archives and ethnographic collections at the Smithsonian about two visits by William Louis Abbott at the end of the 19th century to the group now generally called the Maniq, considered a subgroup of the Semang and the northernmost Negrito group of the peninsular region of southern Thailand and Malaya. These sources indicate the position, within 19th century theories about evolutionary sequences of societies, that Thailand’s “Chow pah” came to serve, for Abbott himself and for the Smithsonian anthropologists with whom he corresponded.

This paper provides previously unpublished information from archives and ethnographic collections at the Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C, about two visits by the American naturalist collector William Louis Abbott (1860-1936) in 1897 and 1899 to the Negrito group now generally called the Maniq, considered a subgroup of the Semang and the northernmost Negrito group of the peninsular region of southern Thailand and Malaya. Abbott used the term “Chow pah”, or “forest people”, for this nomadic hunter-gatherer group. After summarizing literature on early visits to this group, including the question of names by which they are referenced in that literature, this paper briefly summarizes relevant aspects of the historic and scientific context for the two expeditions undertaken to Thailand in 1897 and 1899 by Abbott, then specifically for his two expeditions to the Trang-Phattalung border area. Abbott’s observations and collections from the Negrito groups whom he called the “Chow pah,” his observations on their relations with surrounding Thai and other ethnic groups, and his later correspondence with scientists attempting to interpret these data, are also summarized. Abbott himself was dissatisfied with the quality of his ethnographic and biological collections from these trips to the Chow pah regions. None of his photographs seem to have survived. Serious illness required him to leave the area quickly on his first trip, leaving behind his collections. Travel and transport of collections were difficult again when he returned in 1899. Yet the material collected, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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given the ethnographic collecting philosophy Abbott shared with the Smithsonian’s head curator of anthropology, Otis Mason, seemed to confirm the Chow pah’s especially early position in the evolutionary sequence of societies as measured through the progress of technologies. For years after his visit, Abbott continued to correspond with scientists about aspects of the Negrito population he had visited during his travels in Lower Siam.

Abbott’s “Chow Pah” in the 1890s and the Tonga or Maniq today Any discussion of the ethnic minority population whom Abbott visited, or their descendants today, needs to begin by considering the terminology used. Abbott’s term “Chow pah” (Thai chao pa or “forest people”) clearly reflects the term his Thai interlocutors used for the non-Thai population whose very dark skin, small stature and woolly hair led him, and others also, to classify them as Negritos, thus comparable to the “Negritos” already then known from the Andaman Islands and Nicobars, as well as other so-called Sakai groups of the Malay peninsula in Malaysia. According to Ethnologue (Grimes et al. 2005:518 & map 831) “Tonga” is the name for the language indigenously spoken by the Negrito population living today in the area Abbott visited, and about 300 people of the Tonga ethnolinguistic group live in Thailand, though the Tonga language as of the year 2000 may be extinct as a spoken language (ibid.). “Maniq” (one local name for “human being”) is another widely used term today for all the Negrito populations of southern Thailand. Ethnologue however considers this term “Maniq”, in its more restricted sense, to be one of a group of names for a separate single language spoken by communities further south along and beyond the border with Malaysia, to which it gives the canonical name “Kensiu” with many local names for speech communities speaking Kensiu dialects (“Kensiu, Kense, Kensieu, Kenseu, Kensiw, Sakai, Moniq, Maniq, Moni, Menik, Meni, Ngok Pa, Orang Bukit, Orang Liar, Mos Mengo, Tiong, Mawas, Belubn”), on both sides of the Malaysian border (Grimes et al. 2005:515 & 454; map 831). Ethnologue estimates there are about 300 “Kensiu” speakers in Thailand and 3,000 in Malaysia, classifying Tonga and Kensiu as very closely related but distinct languages within the North Aslian subgroup of the Aslian languages (all within the Mon-Khmer language family). Nevertheless the terms “Maniq” and “Sakai” are also both used more broadly in Thailand for all Negrito populations. Hamilton (2006) notes that the term “Sakai” was also formerly commonly applied in Malaysia to these and other allied forest populations, though that word has generally been replaced there by Orang Asli (“indigenous” or “original” people) (cf. Endicott and Denton 2004). Because “Sakai” has the connotation of “slave, servant” (Brandt 1961:128), it is not considered polite in Thai and has been replaced with the term ngo or ngo paa, a reference to the rambutan fruit, and thus to the physical appearance of these Negritos, who have dark skin and thick woolly hair (Hamilton 2006:294). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Hamilton concludes that “in order to avoid the use of prejudicial terms such as Sakai or ngo paa, many ethnologists and linguists increasingly use the term Maniq for these people,” as accepted by many recent authors (e.g. Albrecht and Moser 1998, Thonghom and Weber 2004). By contrast, Brandt’s (1961) detailed account of the “Negritos of Peninsular Thailand,” after reviewing terms for his topic, concludes, “With this confusion surrounding terminology for the entire group I feel it safe to call the pygmoid Negro, “Negrito”, in order to strip him of the multitudinous derogatory and misleading names with which he has been burdened, with further breakdown into band names, if known, or into the geographic location in which the band is found.” Of the seven principal bands, which Brandt lists in his survey, the first or northernmost of the Negrito groups is the one in the area Abbott visited: 1. The Negrito of Pattalung-Trang, Thailand, called Tonga, Mos and Chong Negrito, which inhabit the Kau Ban Tat Range dividing Trang and Pattalung Provinces. […] The Pattalung-Trang Negrito, whom I will arbitrarily call Tonga, range through dense jungle of the Kau Ban Tat Range. (Brandt 1961:129-30)

Here it should be noted that F. W. Brandt is the source of a much later Smithsonian ethnographic collection of seventy-nine objects representing Negrito populations of Thailand, collected by him in the 1960s and acquired by the Smithsonian in 1969. (Accession no. 285733 having catalog numbers 410853 through 410929.) These objects document a remarkable continuity of manufacture from the 1890s to the 1960s, having for example quivers and darts remarkably similar to those collected by Abbott in 1899 (see Figure 7). In 1961 Brandt considered that this group, whom he calls the Tonga and had earlier been visited by I.H.N. Evans, probably had a population well under the figure of one hundred individuals, which had been Evans’s estimate of their population when he wrote in the 1930s. Evans (1937:23-24) noted visits to this group by Paul Schebesta in 1924 and 1925 respectively (Schebesta 1927, 1952-57; cf. Brandt 1961:126), as well as Evans’ own 1924 visit reported in this publication and previously in Evans 1927:1-14, in which he seems to have followed much the same route as Abbott twenty-seven years earlier, entering Siam at the Trang port of Kantang in April 1924 and taking the road to Phatthalung as far as Chong. Evans notes that Schebesta obtained the terms Tonga, Mos, and possibly “Tenga” (shown instead of Tonga only on the foldout map at back pocket of his book, not in his text, Schebesta 1927), though Evans found none of these names on his visit. Evans noted: The Siamese call the Negritos Ngok, Ngok Pa, Chao Pa or Kuan Pa. The first name is preferable. It appears to mean “frizzy”. The term Chao Pa, which seems to be about equivalent to “jungle folk”, appears occasionally to be used Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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in speaking of jungle-dwelling Siamese, and there is thus some danger of confusion arising if one enquires for Negritos under this name. The (Chong) Negritos call themselves Monik – Menik is a common term for themselves among the Perak Negritos […] while they refer to the Siamese as Homik. (Evans 1927:4)

Well before these scientific visits of the 1920s, Thailand’s King Chulalongkorn took much interest in his aboriginal subjects, and visited the Negrito of PhatthalungTrang in 1904, bringing a youth named Kanang back with him to his court in Bangkok. Hamilton (1961:307) speculates that the child may already have been in service to a local dignitary, and notes that in the official account the child was presented to the King by the governor of Phatthalung. The King wrote a description of the “Ngo Paa” (Negritos), and later composed a romantic drama of the jungle people in verse entitled Ngo Paa, widely read today in Thailand (see Hamilton 2006:307; Brandt 1961:127). Hamilton (2006) reviews the Thai reception of this drama alongside other examples of how the Maniq (Negritos) in the 20th and 21st centuries have been part of Thai consciousness and even more recently Thai ecotourism. She also reviews recent studies of DNA linkages between this region’s Maniq populations and Negritos of the Andamans; as well as some archeological evidence that more widespread “Negrito” or Mongoloid populations speaking Aslian languages might have occupied much of Southeast Asia exclusively until around 3,000 or 2,000 B.C., concluding, “It seems certain that the Aslian peoples occupied the Peninsula for thousands of years, certainly prior to the present-day Thai.” (Hamilton 2006:313). Such issues of understanding the place of the Trang-Phatthalung Negritos and related populations within the history and evolution of the society around them, still unresolved today, formed a subject of great interest to Abbott. Given his interest in finding new biological species from unstudied and uncollected regions, alongside contemporaraneous efforts to study human societal evolution through collections of material culture, he very much sought the chance to visit this seemingly “remnant” or more “primitive” Negrito hunter-gatherer population in the mountainous fastnesses of Lower Siam.

William Louis Abbott in Thailand As Taylor (2014) has outlined, there is currently at the Smithsonian an important group of ethnographic, biological, and unpublished archival materials deriving from two expeditions to southern Thailand by Abbott, the first from February 1896 to April 1897, and the second from late December 1898 to March 1899. Abbott’s lifelong collecting was entirely self-financed, since at the age of twenty-six he received a large inheritance upon the death of his father (1886), allowing him to carry out his series of expeditions, beginning in East Africa and Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Figure 1: William Louis Abbott (1860-1936). National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution.

outbreak of the Spanish-American War, for which he rushed back to the U.S.A. to fight as part of the Cuban invasion. By the time he returned to Singapore in December 1898, en route to his second trip to Thailand, he had decided to outfit a schooner in Singapore. That schooner, which he named the Terrapin, would later become his moveable base of natural history collecting operations for the ten years following his return to Singapore from the second Lower Siam expedition (thus until 1909). The second Thailand trip took place while he waited for the schooner to be finished. That schooner later allowed him to sail through the East Indies and along the Malay peninsula, collecting biological specimens and over 6,000 well-documented artifacts from

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continuing in South and Central Asia before arriving in Southeast Asia where he began his explorations in Thailand. His many practical difficulties included problems obtaining appropriate supplies (traps, rifles, proper packing material for shipment), logistics of keeping collections dry enough to preserve, pack, and send, and worries about safely leaving collections at a central location while he traveled to distant field sites, in addition to his long unproductive periods of waiting for the end of heavy rains in order to start collecting again. Between the two Thailand expeditions, he returned to northern India (Ladakh and Kashmir) while ordering supplies and equipment to be sent to him for his return to Southeast Asia. His return was delayed, however, by the

Figure 2. “Grass [sic] wallet” of the “Chow pah tribe, Siam” collected by William Louis Abbott in 1899. Smithsonian Institution, Department of Anthropology, catalog # E202853. Plant fiber (pandanus?), approximately 36 X 20 cm. Unlike some other Abbott collections, this object has no surviving original label handwritten by Abbott, but has one old handwritten museum label and one recent barcode label (associated with the present digital collection database).

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the peoples he visited, interviewed, and photographed, until he became afflicted with partial blindness in 1909. As also noted in Taylor (2014), Abbott’s ethnographic collecting was deeply influenced by the work of Smithsonian Head Curator of Anthropology Otis Mason (1838-1908), with whom Abbott maintained an active correspondence regarding his travels in Lower Siam and elsewhere. Mason’s career was dedicated to studying museum collections in order to establish artifact typologies and to posit from them evolutionary culture-historical sequences and culture areas (Hinsley 1981:84-117), with special emphasis on basketry. The basketry and other artifacts Abbott sent to Washington, alongside material coming to the Smithsonian after 1898 from America’s new Philippine colony “seemed to fill gaping holes in Mason’s culture history,” (Hinsley 1981:115) because most represented a stage of development midway between North American Indians and the early civilizations of the West. Mason prepared a well-illustrated publication on the Vocabulary of Malaysian Basketwork: A Study in the W. L. Abbott Collections (Mason 1908) “with the view of having a lucid nomenclature in describing the Abbott specimens more at length in a larger work” (Mason 1908:1), though due to Mason’s death that larger work never appeared. (“Malaysian” basketwork of the title referred to basketry and woven plant-fiber matting from what is now Indonesia as well as Malaysia and Lower Siam.) Due apparently to the difficulty of reading Abbott’s handwritten notes, Mason mistakenly refers to the group Abbott visited, whose basketry is included in his study, as “Chowpal: Negritos of Trong, Lower Siam” (1908:3). The examples of material culture collected among them, however, represent only the simplest levels of technological complexity, such as the plant-fiber “wallet” collected in 1899 (Figure 2) of a kind whose structure seemed to classify those who produced it as being at a lower level of societal evolution than more developed cultures of Southeast Asia and America, whose more advanced basketry forms each had distinctive elaborations of the simplest plaiting or weave. (Both Abbott and Mason here use the word “wallet” in its common 19th century meaning,1 a bag for holding provisions on a journey.) Malaysian baskets are much more broken up into parts than American. In both areas there will be, in the plainest structures, such as mats, wallets, and checkerwork baskets, wrong side and right side, outside and inside, top, bottom, and sides. But the full-fledged carrying basket is a bewildering association of parts. A technic part or unit is the full movement of the active parts once. The result is one check, decussation, twill, stitch, curl, bend, bight, hitch, coil, or knot. (Mason 1908:35) Oxford English Dictionary, “A bag for holding provisions, clothing, books, etc., esp. on a journey either on foot or on horseback” OED Online, examples given from 1405 to 1914; accessed September 2014, Oxford University Press, http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/225307?redirectedFr om=wallet

1

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Though the Chow pah examples are not discussed in detail, it is easy to see how both Mason and Abbott would envision that the earliest levels of societal evolution had not progressed beyond such very basic structures of technology such as the checkerwork which “abounds in the Abbott Malaysian collections.” When “made in strips of soft material, like pandanus leaf, this technic lends itself ever for both useful and decorative work – for matting, baskets, wallets, reticules, and so on.” (Mason 1908:41). The simplicity of this Chow pah manufacture contrasted markedly with the elaborate Siamese basketry and fishtraps that so interested Mason (see Taylor 2014:145-147). In addition to his biological and ethnographic collections at the Smithsonian, William Louis Abbott’s papers,2 including his correspondence with Mason and other curators to whom he was sending specimens, and with his family, are now found in two of the Smithsonian’s major archives,3 and in field records stored in the Smithsonian’s Mammals Library and its Botany Library. Unfortunately, none of Abbott’s photographs from these visits to the Chow pah seem to have survived. Abbott’s correspondence provides our clearest window into his expeditions, including recollections of these trips in letters written many years afterward.

Abbott’s expeditions to the Trang-Phatthalung border highlands, 1897 and 1899 We can piece together the sequence of Abbott’s travels on his two Lower Siam expeditions from the information (where available) on objects collected, and from archival correspondence. Most important, for the 1897 visit, is his June 5, 1897 letter to ornithologist Charles Richmond describing his travels in Trang (Abbott often wrote “Trong”), which enclosed what he referred to as his “sketch map of Trong, with my collecting stations marked.” There he wrote, “As is the case with the whole of the Siamese part of the Malay peninsula, the country is unsurveyed & unmapped. Although the country is populous and anything but a wilderness, it is terra incognita to Europeans.” Within Abbott’s archival correspondence, this sketch map (Figure 3), along with another map apparently made in part from it (Figure 4) have been located. In February 1896, Abbott had arrived in Thailand from his travels in Kashmir, and began a series of collecting trips from the capital at Kantang (which he sometimes Abbott’s correspondence and papers have been transcribed, organized, and annotated for publication, Taylor in press. Earlier publications about his Indonesian collections include Taylor 1985, 1995, 2002, and Taylor and Hamilton 1993, and examples in Taylor and Aragon 1991; Taylor 2015 surveys his Madagascar collections; and Asian Civilisations Museum 2009 describes collections Abbott donated to museums in Singapore. 3 National Anthropological Archives, and the separate Smithsonian Archives, which include early Registrar’s records for the National Museum of Natural History. 2

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Figure 3. Sketch map by W.L. Abbott, likely the “sketch map of Trong [Trang], with my collecting stations marked” referenced in Abbott’s June 5, 1897 letter to Charles Richmond.

Figure 4. Ink-drawn map of Trang, “Routes of Dr. W.L. Abbott, 1897” (Smithsonian Archives.)

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wrote Canton; or Gantong / Gántong as in Figures 3 and 4) (Taylor 2014). From Abbott’s correspondence about his travels and collecting prior to visiting the Chow pah, we know he must have been inquiring about them at Trang’s capital of Kantang and elsewhere. Abbott was aware of the Negrito “Sakai” population of Malaya, and of the question of Negrito origins and potential similarities to Negritos of the Andamans, Nicobars, and Philippines. By August 27, 1896, comfortably encamped at his collecting station at the lake near “Bangdee,” whose name he writes as “(Lake) Lay Song Hong,” Abbott wrote to his mother: There is no place like the uninhabited wilderness for real comfort. Have got a fairly good house about 14 x 15 feet, & six feet off the ground. Nothing will dry this damp weather so have had to keep a fire going to dry the skins & insects. It is a pity that there are no Sakai (wild men, forest tribes) in this district, as they are capitol hunters & trappers, especially for small animals, & use the sumpitan or blow pipe. They are found on the main range of hills in the middle of the peninsula.

By January 1897, Abbott was ready to begin his first expedition to those hills, via the road from Tyching eastward toward Phatthalung. On January 13, 1897, he wrote to mammologist F.W. True, “The dry season has at last arrived & I am leaving in two days for the mountains. Am told there are plenty of Rhinoceros & tapir there. There are Sakai (wild tribes) there & I ought to do well. It is only about 12 miles away in straight line, but it takes 2 days with elephants, owing to the bad road.” By January 20, 1897, however, he wrote to ornithologist Charles Richmond: Am rather disappointed in not finding Sakai (wild tribes) close by this place. They live on the mountain just to the southward. & if I can communicate with them they are capital collectors & know everything in the forest. The Siamese are not particularly good hunters. The wild people may not be Sakai as they are called in Perak, but may be Samangs. They use the blowpipe or sumpitan like the Dyaks of Borneo.

But in subsequent days he succeeded in locating the group that he, from then on, definitively calls the “Chow pah,” and this first encounter is most extensively described in a letter to his mother dated January 23, 1897, which notes their similarity to the Semang (written “Samang”) Negritos of Malaysia and is also revealing of their relations with the Thai population: There is a small tribe of Chow pah (forest people) living close by here. They number about 20 of all ages. Apparently they are the same as the Samangs of Perak. They are timid & inoffensive & rather shy. The Siamese of course now treat them well, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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but I suspect that formerly they treated them as the Malays did the Sakai & Samang in the Southern part of the peninsula, that is ill treated them & took them for slaves. They are armed with blowpipes shooting little poisoned arrows. The whole crowd came yesterday to look at me, as of course my proceedings are of the greatest interest, where no white man, let alone a naturalist was ever seen before. I should be regarded with greater curiosity if I wore European clothes. Besides am nearly as dark as many of the Chinese. The Chow pah men were not particularly bad looking, but the women were about as ugly specimens as could be made to order. They appeared strong & healthy & each one had a small brown baby, fat as butter, hanging on one of her breasts. One old hag, toothless, bent, & decrepid was an extraordinary specimen of ugliness. I should like to see a good deal of these interesting people, but they are so shy & suspicious that I dont know if I shall succeed.

Abbott notes that a valley to the east of that place had a name meaning “the falling water”; and that he planned to go to “Nom Rap” for a few weeks then to Chong Mountain to the southeast, where he hoped to hunt the plentiful “tapir, bear, and other animals.” On January 29 he wrote again to his mother from “Nom Rap,” which he described as “a most beautiful place in the forest” with “Magnificent tropical vegetation in all directions, with clear cold streams in all the valleys.” Though he was disappointed in the scarcity of large animals he was pleased to have collected several birds he had never seen before; adding an ethnographic note to this letter also: I went to a camp of the Chow pah, they shift their camp every 2 or 3 days, so it is not always easy to find them. The camp consists of a semicircle 18 feet or so across. Formed by slanting the stalks of the giant calamus, or some such plant, so as to make a lean to about 6 feet deep & 6 feet high. All open in front. They sleep upon couches formed of the stalks of reeds or smooth poles, slightly raised at one end. Their whole possessions appear to consist of their blowpipes & poisoned arrows, a spear or two, an earthen pot, & a dirty rag for the waist.

“Such an absence of worldly gear certainly has its advantages,” he joked to his mother. Referring indirectly to the previous year’s acute economic crisis in the U.S.A. (known as the “Panic of 1896”), as well as the bitter debate in America over “bimetallism” or “free silver” vs. gold as America’s monetary standard, and writing barely six months after William Jennings Bryan’s famous “Cross of Gold” speech at the 1896 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, Abbott informed his mother from his encampment at Nom Rap that the Chow pah “cant suffer from robbery[;] panics & silver agitations pass them over unscathed.” Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Unfortunately no correspondence or field notes subsequent to that January 29, 1897 letter have been located from Abbott’s first expedition to Thailand. Our first records of subsequent events are in an April 7, 1897 letter sent to his mother from Penang, describing the serious bout of “remittent fever” and 35 pounds (16 kg) weight loss he suffered in the forest at the Trang-Phatthalung border, informing her that “my scene of action has been transferred from the forests of Trong to the General Hospital, Penang.” He explains that “The only bad time I had was when I was first taken ill over in the forest, my temperature ran pretty high I eventually got an elephant to carry me to Tyching & that was the end of my troubles.” Though he recovered sufficiently to leave for Penang and insisted he was “going about now almost well,” he adds, “But am much disgusted at being unable to finish my work satisfactorily in Trong. I did not get in any work upon the hill that I had been looking forward to.”

Figure 5. Handwritten letter from W.L. Abbott at Penang to Smithsonian mammologist F.W. True, May 7, 1897.

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Abbott further explained the circumstances later (May 7) in his letter to Smithsonian mammologist F.W. True, a sample page of which is illustrated here (Figure 5) partly to show that Abbott’s difficult-to-read original handwriting requires careful transcription for any study of his collections and observations: Have had the devil’s own luck. Until January 1st it did nothing but rain, 2 or 3 months longer than usual, then about the middle of January, I moved over to the hills in the middle of the peninsula & had 2 pretty good months. Then March 12th I moved camp to the foot of the Khaw Song about 4,000 feet high, the 2d highest peak in Trong. Rhinoceros were said to frequent the summit, & Tapirs judging from their paths & tracks were plentiful on all the hill tops. I never could catch sight of any however. Well on the 12th of March was taken down with Remittent fever, & for 9 days was just about as miserable as possible. Did not have any antipyrin & could not get my temperature down by cold bathings as there was no good bathing place. & of course Quinine is no use in remittent. On the 9th day managed to get one elephant & rode down to Tyching on the Trong river. I had to throw away some of my stuff as I could not get enough carriers. Two days after came down to Gantong, where the Rajah of Trong lives, & put up in the custom house with his nephew. Here I felt a bit better, being in a bed & inside a house. Then I came over here & was in hospital 2 weeks more. Was only out a week, when I went up Penang hill & got a chill, which resulted in dysentery & had to return to hospital for another two weeks. Got out 2 days since, & am now all right.

He set out to return to India and regain his health. Abbott’s subsequent travels in Central Asia were interrupted by the Spanish-American War of 1898, for which he rushed back to join the invasion of Cuba as part of the self-financed volunteers serving under W.A. Chanler. Arriving back in Singapore in November 1898, soon after the peace declaration, he began the construction and outfitting of the schooner he would later use in his collecting expeditions. Abbott began his second expedition to Lower Siam in December 1898 as the schooner was being prepared (Taylor 2014). He quickly reached approximately where he had left off in 1897; by January he had arrived at a camp on “Khow Nok Ram” (translated as “Big Bird Mountain”) in the territory of the Chow pah, and in a letter to his mother on January 8, 1899 contrasted his situation with the camp in Cuba: Altogether there is no comparison between being in camp here & in Cuba as regards comfort. It is very different being only one among thousands of others & under someone else’s orders & being on one’s own hook free to come & go as I please & half a dozen boys to look out for one. There being no horses to Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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look after or bother with is another large item of happiness.

That same letter, worth quoting at length, describes the Chow pah he observed in that setting: Am back in the forests again in much the same sort of place I was two years ago. This place is rather higher than any of my former camps in Trong—about 1700 feet, & as a result it is very damp. There seems to be no dry season here in the mountains, particularly near the summits. This place is upon one of the paths over to P’talung [Phatthalung] on the Gulf of Siam side, & it being North East monsoon it is rainy season on gulf side. […] I had the present house built for me in advance for 2½ dollars. It is a hut 10 feet square raised 6 feet from ground. The roof leaks pretty bad & I have had my boys engaged today in putting up more palm thatch. This morning walked up to the divide where the path descends into P’talúng. It is about 2300 feet & the hills are higher on either side, it was pouring rain & too miserable to attempt to cut our way to either summit. My original intention was to attack the Khow Sai Dow first. But the elephants left me & my belongings at Kok Sai which I then found to be too far off from that hill to attempt it. So I am putting in awhile on the Khow Nok Ram. It is 8 miles up here a gradual ascent from the plains, & through magnificent forest. The forest leeches are very troublesome owing to the dampness. However it would be perfect heaven to me if the rains would only let up. Two years ago, in February it was quite dry. […] Am doing only fairly well collecting. I seem to have done the plains quite thoroughly 2 years ago—& my principal object this time is the summits of the hill—& today, my first day there, it rained. A tribe of “Chow pah” the wild men of these forests came & camped near me at Kok Sai. They have wooly hair & are negroid (not negro) in appearance. Like the other wild tribes of the peninsula they use blowpipes & poisoned arrows. These blowpipes (like the sumpitan of Borneo) are 8 or 9 feet long & formed by joining 2 joints of bamboo. This sort of bamboo is 4 or 5 feet between the knots. They the Chow pah are of medium size & seem to be of rather low order of intelligence—a few of the men speak a little Siamese, but it is very hard to talk to them. They are always hanging around to get some rice or food of some sort & I want to get a number of their blowpipes. Money is no use to them – they are in a happy condition – but they highly prize chopping knives, axes, cotton cloth etc. The Siamese inspector of Police at Gantong, had told me that the Chow pah had got to fighting amongst themselves & had entirely left the district, so I was very glad to see a string of them arrive one day at my camp. I dont know Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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if this tribe has ever before been seen by a European, they much resemble the Samangs of Perak.

Despite the lack of further surviving correspondence from the Chow pah area, there is some additional information in subsequent letters, including one which references photographs he took there (none of which seems to have survived) in his letter to Smithsonian mammologist F.W. True, dated March 16, 1899: I met with a tribe of Negritos in Trong, & obtained a number of Photos, which as usual turned out badly. It always happens so when one particularly wants good pictures. Others, of no especial interest, of Siamese & Chinese turned out very well. Obtained a couple of blowpipes with 2 quivers of poisoned arrows from these Chow pah (forest people), which I hope will reach the Museum safely. They were put into long bamboos & sown up in gunny. These Chowpah were not numerous & they by no means liked to part with their weapons, being too lazy to go up into the mountains to obtain the long bamboos of which they are made. The tribe was especially interesting as being the most northerly occurrence of Negritos from the Main land of the Peninsula. Of course they are found much further north in the Andamans and Philippines. Besides their blowpipes and a few knives & choppers, obtained from the Siamese, with an old earthen pot or two, these wild people possessed absolutely nothing. Of course they dont know or understand money & were by far the lowest & least intelligent savages I have yet met with.

Abbott included some additional information on this expedition in another letter, dated March 15, 1899, to Smithsonian ornithologist Charles Richmond written aboard the “S.S. Palamcotta. Between Penang & Singapore”: I returned to Penang from Trong 10 days since. & expect to reach Singapore tomorrow. Have shipped 8 packages to the Smithsonian from Penang. Had 2 months in Trong, most of the time in the mountains. They did not prove as productive as I had hoped. The bird collection contains about 250-300 skins. Most of the species were in the former collection, but there are about 20 not in the former lot. […] The hills in Trong did not turn out quite as high as I had expected. 3200 feet was about the highest I ascended & the bird fauna proved scantier than I had hoped. There are lots of species that I never shot, am certain. But much doubt if many new species remain to be discovered in the Peninsula, on the mainland at any rate. Some time hope to visit the small islands off coast & will doubtless find new species on them. It is very curious that there should be so few Parrots in the Peninsula. […] In Hindustan parrots are among the commonest of birds. Did not meet with any Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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large game this trip. It is not plentiful in Trong. In Siam all the natives have guns. Over in Tenasserim in British territory where guns cannot be carried by natives, am told there is plenty of big game. There were tapir & Rhinosceros tracks everywhere in the Mountains in Trong, but the jungle was so dense one would only meet with them by chance, and the natives were very poor trackers. Hoping the birds will reach you all right

Most interesting from the expedition perspective is the long “PS” Abbott adds to this letter, giving Richmond a detailed list of his collecting localities, reflecting the relative importance of detailed collecting locality and date information for biological species, though such details were at the time considered far less important in the documentation of ethnographic collections (see Taylor 2015). The list provided in the “PS” of this letter is therefore the best description of the expedition route and localities from which Abbott’s biological and ethnographic collections and observations derive on this trip: P.S. My itinerary in Trong was as follows. Left Tajah (Plian) Dec. 26th 98. & marched westward [sic, = eastward?] & next day reached Kok Sai at Foot of the Khow Nok Ram. Camp on edge of heavy forest. Kok Sai Dec. 27th - Jan 8.99. Scrub & secondary jungle & large tracts covered with wild Plantains. Mountains covered with very heavy forest. Camp on Khow Nok Ram (1,700 ft.) Jan. 8 - 18. heavy forest in all directions. Hills ascended to summit 3,200 ft. Higher peaks not visited. 5 or 600 ft. higher. Kok Sai (1st camp) Jan 18 - Feb. 1st Camp on slopes of Khow Sai Dow. 1,100 ft. Heavy forest in all directions. Hills ascended to 3,200 ft. Summit of Khow Sai Dow. Feb. 1st to Feb. 21st. Kok Sai Feb. 22d to Feb 25th Naklua village on Trong River below Gantong. Mar 2d - Mar 5th. Secondary scrub & jungle, very dry. Some dry Paddy fields. Kok Sai was about 12 miles W.N.W. of Plian as marked on sketch Map sent at conclusion of former trip in 1897. The camp in the mountains (on Khow Nok Ram) was 8 [(] 5 in straight line [)] miles distant by road. The camp on Khow Sai Dow was 10 miles from Kok Sai about S.W. (7 in straight line).

To this small number of first-hand descriptions of Abbott’s visit can be added some subsequent correspondence in which Abbott remembers years later events among the Chow pah, including his April 21, 1907 letter to Smithsonian physical anthropologist Aleš Hrdlička (1869-1943), for whom he had been collecting some Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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orangutans in Borneo as well as alcohol-preserved brains of “a few monkeys and gibbons.” Abbott writes of the recent publication by Skeat and Blagdon (1906): Prof. Mason wrote that you were reviewing Skeats book. Are you not disappointed in it? Skeat himself never saw many Negritos. He used to come in contact with a family or two of Sakai (?) who lived near where he was stationed in Selangor. To this day no one else seems to have met with the “Chow pah” of Trong, since I saw them in “.99” All my photos turned out badly. They were Semang type.

Later that year, when Abbott heard that Smithsonian anthropologist Walter Hough was thinking of writing a comparative paper on blowdarts, Abbott wrote to him on October 4, 1907 urging him, “& dont forget to look up the two specimens I sent from Trong 9 years ago made by the Chow pah (Semangs?) & also 2 from the Antanala country in Madagascar. These last were cut in two pieces for convenience of shipment. Unfortunately I never was in the Sakai & Semang districts to get their blowpipes.” Yet the significance of the blowguns, within Abbott’s and Mason’s collecting philosophy, lay precisely in their survival in diverse parts of the world from some prior stage of societal evolution. Abbott recognized that just as similar, closely related animals could survive as “living fossils” in distant parts of the world, types of primitive industrial technology could point to common stages of societal evolution in distant places. Among the examples Abbott collected to illustrate this commonality were the blowpipe and darts from Madagascar and Trang. Abbott writes to his mother (May 18, 1899) upon arriving in Singapore from Java: “The blowpipes of Malaysia & Madagascar are totally different from anything used in Africa. Though the tribes of the Upper Amazon use a similar weapon.” It is for such comparative purposes that Abbott’s material culture collections were assembled, providing the evidence for evolution of human societies and cultures just as his biological collections provided the evidence for evolution of biological species.

Abbott’s “Chow Pah” ethnographic collections Taylor (2014) described the overall organization of Abbott’s Thai collections at the Smithsonian; here only some additional observations are made on the “Chow pah” ethnographic objects, all within the accession (or group of objects acquired together) given the accession number “35322.” Many of the paper catalog cards and their later digital database formats perpetuate Mason’s incorrect transcription of Abbott’s handwriting, naming the ethnic group “Chow Pal.” Abbott was unable to bring ethnographic material when he left the Chow pah area suddenly in 1897 due to illness; all these are from the 1899 trip. The extant collection consists of two Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Figure 6. “Chow pah” blowpipe (disassembled), maximum length: 234 cm. Collected by W.L. Abbott, 1899. Catalog number E202852. The top section (with mouthpiece at right) is inserted into the lower one; the longer length and stability provides a more accurate aim. Figure 7. “Chow pah” quivers with darts, E202849 with 22 darts (left) and E202848 with 33 darts. Quivers approximately 30 cm. maximum length.

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Figure 8. W. L. Abbott’s handwritten label accompanying quiver, E202849, reads “Poisoned arrows used by Chow pah (Forest people) in their Klongo (blow pipes) Trong, Lower Siam–.” Currently information on such labels is often unavailable in the catalog database. Figure 9. “Chow pah” net used both for fishing and for catching birds. Length of wooden poles: approx. 101 cm. Collected by W.L. Abbott, 1899. Catalog number E202850.

blowguns or “blow-pipes” having the local name “Klongo” (catalog numbers E202851 and E202852, see Figure 6); two quivers of darts (shown in Figure 7): E202848 with 33 darts and E202849 with 22 darts; the “wallet” shown in Figure 2 (E202853) and a now very fragile and damaged net consisting of plant-fiber netting strung between two wooden poles. Due to its current fragility this net can no longer be expanded for photography into a shape like that of its original likely use. Nevertheless, the net as it looks now in storage can be seen in Figure 9. Though no original label hand-written by Abbot survives on this net, the early catalog record for this object indicates it is a “Net for Catching Fish and Birds” of the “Chow pal [sic] (Forest people) Negritos.” In addition, the museum registrar’s papers documenting the accession of this group of objects within the Museum’s collection (Accession 35322), now at the Smithsonian Institution Archives, include an undated piece of paper written in Abbott’s handwriting, which surely refers to this net, the only net we know of that Abbott collected anywhere in Trang. The entire text on that page reads as follows: Net used in fishing & also for catching birds. When used for birds, a decoy tame bird is used – Forest partridges etc. & the nets (4 or 5) stood up around this decoys cage. The nets stand so they will fall easily. The wild birds come up to interview or fight the captive & run or fly against the nets & get entangled.

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Used in fishing by standing them up in shallows & driving the fish towards them. – Trong. Malay Peninsula

Abbott’s records, and the Maniq in ethnography and history Abbott visited the Maniq population at a time of transition for them and for Thailand, and within a historic context that has yet to be reconstructed for this tribal minority. His observation that Chow pah were so unwilling to give up their blowpipes since the source of the bamboo was far away contrasts with later descriptions after these artifacts became a commonly sold trade item and ethnic identifier, still a favorite of ecotourists today. Abbott’s observations contrast markedly with the recurring reports by later visitors as summarized in Hamilton’s (2006) article on the motif of the “disappearing Sakai.” For instance, Abbott notes that “Siamese of course now treat them well,” and that the entire Chow pah band rather than retreating at his presence came as a “whole crowd” to look at him, “as of course my proceedings are of the greatest interest, where no white man, let alone a naturalist was ever seen before.” Furthermore we observe in his letters the simple fact that the Chow pah, while seeming to him “shy” and “timid,” nevertheless stayed camped nearby and did not quickly “disappear into the forest” as reported by so many later observers who came into contact with them, according to Hamilton’s survey. Quite by contrast, Abbott wrote on January 8, 1899, as quoted above, that at Kok Sai a “tribe of ‘Chow pah’ the wild men of these forests came & camped near me” – quite unlike later reports. Careful study and inferences even from incomplete visitors’ reports like these might explain the transformations that this tribal minority chose to, or was forced to, take from the 1890s to today, leading to such different observations over time. Additionally, as Taylor (2014) noted with examples cited there, a productive mode of recent scholarship places objects in historical and ethnographic context by taking images and information about legacy collections back to the descendants of those who produced them, engaging descendants of the peoples who created museum objects with their interpretation and presentation. “Re-visiting” historic expeditions now provides opportunities to ask the descendants of peoples, such as those whom Abbott visited, to help interpret objects and archival narratives. Hopefully, contemporary ethnographers in Thailand, and descendants of the “Chow pah Negritos” or Maniq people Abbott visited in 1897 and 1899, will find these records useful.

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Acknowledgements The author gratefully acknowledges the support of the Smithsonian Scholarly Studies Program, and of the Seidell Endowment and the Walcott Endowment (Smithsonian Institution) for his study of Abbott’s archival correspondence and fieldnotes.

References Albrecht, Gerd and Johannes Moser. 1998. Recent Mani Settlements in Satun Province, Southern Thailand. Journal of the Siam Society 86 (1&2): 161-199. Asian Civilisations Museum. 2009. “William Louis Abbott.” Pp. 25-37 in: Hunters & collectors: the origins of the Southeast Asian collection at the Asian Civilisations Museum. Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum. Brandt, John H. 1961. The Negrito of peninsular Thailand. Journal of the Siam Society 49 (2):123-160. Endicott, Kirk and Robert Knox Denton. 2004. Into the mainstream or into the backwater? Malaysian assimilation of Orang Asli. Pp. 24-55 in: Civilizing the margins: Southeast Asian government policies for the development of minorities. (C. Duncan, ed.) Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Evans, Ivor H.N. 1927. Papers on the ethnology & archaeology of the Malay Peninsula. Cambridge (U.K.): Cambridge University Press. ___. 1937. The Negritos of Malaya. Cambridge (U.K.): Cambridge University Press. Grimes, Barbara F., Joseph E. Grimes, and Raymond Gordon. 2005. Ethnologue: Languages of the World. Dallas: SIL International. Hamilton, Annette. 2006. Reflections on the ‘Disappearing Sakai’: A Tribal Minority in Southern Thailand. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 37 (2): 293-314. (June 2006.) Hinsley, Curtis M. 1981. Savages and Scientists: The Smithsonian Institution and the Development of American Anthropology 1846-1910. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Mason, Otis T. 1908. “Vocabulary of Malaysian Basketwork: A Study in the W.L. Abbott Collections.” Proceedings of the U.S. National Museum, vol. 35, no. 1631 (pp. 1-51 and pl. 1-17). Schebesta, Paul. 1927. Bei den Urwaldzwergen von Malaya. Mit 150 Abbildungen nach Originalaufnahmen und Skizzen des Forschers und einer Karte (cf. English translation of 1928 with new Introduction by G. Benjamin: Among Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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the Forest Dwarfs of Malaya. Kuala Lumpur, New York: Oxford University Press, 1973). ___. 1952-57. Die Negrito Asiens. Wien-Mödling, St.-Gabriel-Verlag. (2 volumes.) Skeat, Walter William, and Charles Otto Blagden. 1906. Pagan races of the Malay Peninsula. London: Macmillan. Taylor, Paul Michael. 1985. The Indonesian Collections of William Louis Abbott (1860-1936): Invitation to a Research Resource at the Smithsonian Institution. Council for Museum Anthropology Newsletter 9 (2): 5-14. ___. 1995. Collecting Icons of Power and Identity: Transformations of Indonesian Material Culture in the Museum Context. Cultural Dynamics 7 (1):101-124. (Special issue of Cultural Dynamics, entitled Museums and Changing Perspectives of Culture, ed. by Anthony Shelton.) ___. 2002. A Collector and His Museum: William Louis Abbott (1860-1936) and the Smithsonian. In: Treasure Hunting? The Collectors and the Collecting of Indonesian Artefacts. (Reimar Schefold and Han Vermeulen, eds.) Leiden: Research School of Asian, African, and Amerindian Studies (CNWS), University of Leiden. Mededelingen van het Rijksmuseum voor Volkenkunde, no. 30: 221-239. ___. 2014. William Louis Abbott in Thailand: A Research Resource on Southern Thailand in the 1890s. Journal of the Siam Society 102: 143-168. ___. 2015 William Louis Abbott in Madagascar: Revisiting Archival and Museum Resources of a Smithsonian Naturalist from the 1890s. Museum Anthropology 38(1):28-45. Also available at: http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/ muan.12071/epdf ___. In press. (4 volumes). William Louis Abbott (1860-1936): American Naturalist. To be published in: Smithsonian Institution Libraries, Digital Editions [New series: Sources and Critical Interpretations]. www.sil. si.edu. [I] Spoils of the Merikani: William Louis Abbott and the Smithsonian in East Africa, Madagascar, and the Seychelles, 1887-1895. [II] An American Naturalist in the Himalayas: William Louis Abbott and his Smithsonian Expeditions to Central Asia, 1891-1915. [III] Travels of the Terrapin: William Louis Abbott and the Smithsonian in Southeast Asia, 1896-1909. [IV] Journey’s End: W.L. Abbott in the Caribbean and at Home. Taylor, Paul Michael and Lorraine V. Aragon. 1991. Beyond the Java Sea: Art of Indonesia’s Outer Islands. Washington: National Museum of Natural History; New York: Harry N. Abrams. Taylor, Paul Michael and Roy W. Hamilton. 1993. The Borneo Collections of W. L. Abbott (1860-1936) at the Smithsonian. Pp. 311-342 of: Change and DevelopJournal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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ment in Borneo: Selected Papers from the First Extraordinary Conference of the Borneo Research Council, Kuching, Sarawak, Malaysia, August 4-9, 1990. (Vinson H. Sutlive, Jr., ed.). Williamsburg, Virginia: Borneo Research Council. Thonghom, S. and George Weber. 2004. The Negrito of Thailand: The Mani (by Thonghom, edited and expanded by George Weber). (Accessed Aug. 2014): http://web.archive.org/web/201305201731*44/http:/www.andaman.org/ BOOK/chapter36/text36.htm#editor

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Bangkok Kingship: The Role of Sukhothai Hiram Woodward

The subject of Sukhothai in Thai consciousness, 1800 to 2000, is vast and complicated.1 Certain parts of the story have already been told well by others, and there is a good deal that is beyond my competence to deal with. This lecture presents bits and pieces, souvenirs from months of unsystematic research, rather than a distillation of one section of a comprehensive study. There is a limited amount of art and architecture—despite my background—but a fair amount about texts, including an extended discussion of the Ten Royal Virtues, although the virtues are, in fact, only a small part of the total picture. Among the themes I shall touch on as well are the importance of paternalism and of royal lineage.

King Rama I In 1808, according to the memoirs of Princess Narintharathewi, not long before the death of King Rama I in 1809, there was a royal order that a monastery be built right in the middle of the city, as tall as Wat Phanan Choeng in Ayutthaya.2 This was to become Wat Suthat. Phra Phirenthonthep was sent to bring down a big image (phra yai) from Sukhothai. This is usually thought to have been the principal image at Wat Mahathat in the center of the city, and is sometimes identified with the image founded by King Li Thai in 1361, according to inscriptions.3 The most treacherous part of the trip must have been the very first portion, overland. Surely, in 1808, Wat Mahathat at Sukhothai was as nearly overrun with vegetation as it was at the end of the century. The image arrived in Bangkok intact, it seems, for King Chulalongkorn relates that it was too big to fit through the river gate, which was then torn down and subsequently reconstructed. Along the route to its new site, offerings were displayed in front of the palaces, houses, and shops, and the king, then quite This was an address to the Thailand-Laos-Cambodia Committee, Association for Asian Studies, Chicago, 28 March 2009. I thank Justin McDaniel for the invitation to give this talk, which is presented annually by a senior scholar. In preparing the text for publication, minimal changes have been made (aside from the loss of illustrations). 2 Chotmai het khwam song cham khong Kromma Luang Narintharathewi (Bangkok, 1973), p. 26 and p. 306 (with commentary by King Chulalongkorn). 3 A. B. Griswold, Towards a History of Sukhodaya Art (Bangkok: Fine Arts Department, 1967), p. 58. 1

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ill, followed. Once installed and restored, it was dedicated and given the name Śrī Sākyamuni. Narintharathewi describes a stone inscription attached to it that says, “in the future, the uncle will be loyal to the nephew, the junior will become the senior (the phu yai), and the senior the junior.” King Chulalongkorn speculated that the author was the army commander, Prince Mahasak Phonlasep, addressing King Rama II. An indication of the continuing importance of the image is that the ashes of King Ananda were installed in the pedestal.4 Of course it was not really necessary for the kings of Bangkok to transport a large image all the way from Sukhothai. Large images could be found in Ayutthaya, and for that matter it was possible to cast a new image. The largest intact Ayutthaya image in Bangkok is the Phra Lokkanat, brought to Wat Pho from Wat Phra Si Sanphet. Not just large images were brought to Bangkok. According to the Wat Pho inscriptions, during the reign of King Rama I, a total of 1,248 images were brought from Phitsanulok, Sawankhalok (today we would call this Si Satchanalai, Sukhothai’s twin city), Sukhothai, Lopburi, and the Old Capital.5 Most of these were installed in galleries at Wat Pho and Wat Saket. They must have come from monasteries with galleries, given their uniform size, and therefore most are unlikely to have come from Sukhothai itself. Their faces were “made beautiful,” that is, covered with plaster to make them look new, like the new gallery images at Wat Suthat. They have been uncovered in modern times, beginning in the 1950s. Sukhothai, for the people of Ayutthaya, was not a place of historic origins. Ayutthayans traced their roots to the place from which Prince U Thong came, prior to the founding of the city in 1351. Maybe this was a site in the Suphanburi region, maybe it was Phetchaburi, but it was never Sukhothai, even after there was an intermarrying of the descendants of the Sukhothai royalty with the kings of Ayutthaya. After Sukhothai was abandoned, in the 17th century, there was still no interest in bringing Sukhothai Buddha images to Ayutthaya. On the other hand, Dvaravati-style images in Nakhon Pathom were taken to the capital, as were bronze sculptures from Angkor, and one report states that in the second half of the 17th century, an especially sacred image in Chiang Mai, the Sihing Buddha, was seized and carried to Ayutthaya. The bringing of so many images to Bangkok, and in the case of the Śrī Sākyamuni image at Wat Suthat, the purposeful quest for an image from Sukhothai, resulted in a concentration of sacred power, of course, but it was a sacred power that had a somewhat different shape from that seen at Ayutthaya. I can think of two reasons. One is that the administrative relationship between the capital and Phitsanulok (Siam’s second city in Ayutthaya times) had changed. The other is one to which the writings of King Mongkut provide a clue: King Rama I’s father had Sinlapa watthanatham thai lem 1 (Bangkok: Fine Arts Department, 1982), pp. 226-29. Prachum charuek Wat Phra Chettuphon, 2 vols. (Bangkok, 1930), vol. 1, p. 3; also Hiram W. Woodward, Jr. et al., Sacred Sculpture of Thailand (Baltimore and Bangkok, 1997), n. 46, p. 300. 4 5

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been an official in Phitsanulok at the time of the Burmese invasion in 1767, and his safety was secured by the presence of the Chinnarat Buddha and by his worship of this image.6 We do not know the extent to which Mongkut’s grandfather, King Rama I, had the same opinion, but it is certainly possible. Therefore, the family lineage could be traced back to north-central Siam and to the Buddha images that helped protect it during the Burmese wars.

The Phaisanthaksin Throne Hall and the King’s Coronation Turning away from Sukhothai, it is possible to get a sense of the king’s spatial position in the early Bangkok period by studying the layout of the primary audience hall. Most of what follows comes from an article published in 1985.7 The Emerald Buddha, the Phra Kaeo, had almost no connections with Ayutthaya or Sukhothai. True, before it became manifest in Chiang Rai in the middle of the 15th century, it had resided, according to its history, at Angkor, Ayutthaya, and Kamphaeng Phet, but it is possible that the people of Ayutthaya had very little consciousness of it. It was seized in 1779 in Vientiane by the future King Rama I, who came to the throne in 1782. In 1784 it was installed in the royal chapel. In Lao texts, the Emerald Buddha is called the khwan—the soul, or butterfly soul—of the mueang, the principality. But I have not seen this term used in a Bangkok text. Therefore, I think it would be fair to say, the significance of the image is more dynastic than territorial. Again, the writings of King Mongkut may provide a clue. If the Lao had more assiduously worshipped the Emerald Buddha, he might have said, his grandfather would not have been able to defeat them militarily.8 The primary audience hall, the Amarinwinitchai, forms the northernmost part of the complex known as the Mahamonthian. The king, in audience, faces north. Behind him, however, is a longitudinal hall with an east-west axis; east-west, that is, like the Chapel of the Emerald Buddha nearby. From the outside, as well as in the plan, the throne hall on the northern side, the Amarinwinitchai, seems to flow seamlessly into the longitudinal east-west hall behind. This east-west hall, the Phaisanthaksin Throne Hall, is crucial because it is here that the coronation takes place. Furthermore, two adjoining chapels add yet another layer of significance. The one on the western side is called the Ho Phra That Monthian, and the other chapel of the same type (the Ho Phra Suralaiphiman) extends symmetrically on the east. The plane of the northern In his history of the Chinnarat Buddha, cited Hiram W. Woodward, Jr., “Monastery, Palace, and City Plans: Ayutthaya and Bangkok,” Crossroads 2 (1985), p. 50 (23-60). 7 Woodward, “Monastery, Palace, and City Plans,” pp. 23-60. 8 What King Mongkut said in his history of the Emerald Buddha was that King Taksin had not paid sufficient devotion to the image, hence he was deposed. Cited Woodward, “The Emerald and Sihing Buddhas,” in Living a Life in Accord with Dhamma, ed. Natasha Eilenberg et al. (Bangkok: Silpakorn University, 1997), p. 506; for khwan, the same page. 6

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façades of the two chapels bisects the longitudinal Phaisanthaksin Hall. Therefore the king, when he sits facing north on the raised throne at the southern end of the Amarinwinitchai Hall, has behind him the coronation throne hall as well as the two chapels. The coronation consists essentially of two procedures. For his lustration the king sits on an octagonal platform in the southeast corner, facing one of the eight directions, then another. Later the king puts on his crown and takes formal control of the other regalia. He does so on the opposite side of the room, in the southwest corner.9 The position of both thrones lies in the southern half of the hall, that is, south of the imaginary plane created by the facades of the paired chapels. Analogous structural relations can be seen in Thai image halls. Many bot or wihan have murals with a cosmological scene behind the main image. Directly behind the image appears the summit of Mt. Meru, site of Indra’s heaven, flanked left and right by the peaks of the mountain ranges surrounding Mt. Meru. On the opposite, east wall is painted the Buddha at the time of enlightenment, when Nang Thorani, the Earth Goddess, brings forth a flood of waters that sweeps away the army of the demons. We could say that the two procedures in the throne hall are structurally parallel: the donning The octagonal throne at the coronation of King Prajadhipok, of the crown being like Indra’s palace, 25 February 1926: “The Ceremony on the Octagonal Throne” (State Railways Department photograph, after Quaritch and the lustration like Nang Thorani’s Wales, Siamese State Ceremonies, pl. VIII). flood. But what, now, about the two chapels? The Ho Phra That Monthian is (or was) a columbarium containing urns with the ashes of the father of King Rama I, of Rama I himself, King Rama II, King Rama III, their queens, and high-ranking princes. It was sometimes referred to as the Ho Phra Athi, or chamber for cinerary remains. It stood in relation to the Ho Phra Suralaiphiman as the dead stand to the living. King Rama III (r. 1824-1851) had three sets of “birthday” images cast, consisting of small 9

H. G. Quaritch Wales, Siamese State Ceremonies (London, 1931), pp. 77-87. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Buddha images. The two sets honoring his predecessors were installed in a glass case in the Ho Phra That Monthian, joining the urns. His own set, however, was installed in the Ho Phra Suralaiphiman. In the following reign, King Mongkut (r. 1851-1868) had his own set of birthday images cast. He placed these in the Ho Phra Suralaiphiman, taking Rama III’s set and moving it to the Ho Phra That Monthian.

Ho Phra Suralaiphiman Phaisanthaksin Throne Hall Amarinwinitchai Throne Hall

N

Ho Phra That Monthian

The Mahamonthian, Grand Palace, Bangkok. Photo above from The Grand Palace and Old Bangkok by Paisarn Piemmettawat, River Books, Bangkok, 2013, p. 120. Ground plan from Sing anuson ratchakan thi 2 nai phra borom maharatchawang, ed. Lamom Otchaka, Bangkok, 1969, opp. p. 4.

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Therefore we could say that there is a kind of field of force running between the two chapels, a current between the living and the dead. And so when the king sat in the Amarinwinitchai Hall, he had at his back a pair of poles exchanging energies, with overlapping associations: the two parts of the coronation; the east and west ends of an image hall; and, in the chapels, the living and the dead, with the dead being his own royal ancestors.

Nang Nopphamat The book Nang Nopphamat purports to be the memoirs and treatise of a royal consort of the Sukhothai period. Already, in his preface to its publication in 1914, Prince Damrong Rajanubhab associated it with the reign of King Rama III, in the second quarter of the 19th century, but the notion that it is somehow connected with Sukhothai has persisted. It is not now quite as obscure a text as it once was. In recent decades the name Nang Nopphamat has been appropriated as the title of a beauty contest occurring at the same time as the annual Loi Krathong festival, thanks to the text’s description of Loi Krathong floating lanterns. And scholars know the 2005 English translation of the essay by Nidhi Eoseewong, originally published in 1982, “The World of Lady Nophamat.”10 Dr. Nidhi dated the text to between 1817 and 1835. Its function is still not clear. Most Western utopian treatises are veiled critiques of the current situation, and that may be the case with Nang Nopphamat, though Dr. Nidhi considered it primarily a book of etiquette. In an extended passage, the first-person author praises the king of Sukhothai, called Somdet Phra Ruang Chao Yu Hua. Phra Ruang was a legendary name of the Sukhothai monarch. It may originally have been a dynastic title, meaning a member of the Solar Dynasty, applicable both to the 13th-century winner of independence, Sri Indraditya, and to subsequent kings. The king is said to have displayed more goodness of heart to the populace than can be told; he embodies the Ten Royal Virtues (I’ll return to these in a moment), loving kindness, and wisdom in affairs of state. He penetrates the joys and sufferings of the people throughout his kingdom. He does not levy excessive taxes; he supports military officers and the governors of first-, second-, third-, and fourth-class towns, producing officials in every ministry who possess skill and thoughtfulness. If one displays merit, he will be appropriately rewarded, and the punishment of those who do wrong will be mitigated. He cares for the royal sons and daughters and the entire royal family, seeing that they prosper with possessions and servants, as well as for the queens and concubines, bestowing upon them jewelry and accoutrements according to their rank, and never neglecting them. Moreover he dispenses clothes and money to all regular servants, according Nidhi Eoseewong, Pen and Sail: Literature and History in Early Bangkok, ed. Chris Baker and Ben Anderson (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2005), pp. 229-54. 10

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to custom. Finally, he displays benevolence in his instructions to all royal officials, inside and outside the palace, not permitting the deceitful behavior that results in greed, which would oppress the people and anger them.11 As a guide to statecraft, the passage makes smooth transitions, from the king’s personal qualities to the nature of good governance in general, and then to keeping the inner court satisfied. Nothing is said about protection from external enemies because Nang Nopphamat elsewhere claims there are none. Nor is anything specifically said about the monarch being like a father, but arguably that can be taken for granted, with peace in the family being akin to peace in the kingdom. If it is accepted that Nang Nopphamat is a utopian treatise, maybe the Sukhothai setting can be understood negatively. It cannot have been set in Bangkok, and too much was known about Ayutthaya for it to have been the locus. Angkor, which presumably would have been called Indapat, was too distant. That leaves Sukhothai. The main source of knowledge about Sukhothai would have been the Phongsawadan Nuea, the “History of the North,” a compilation of legends dating from 1807. It is unlikely that the author was aware of the existence of Sukhothai inscriptions, and even less likely that the content of any was known. Nevertheless, Prince Mongkut traveled to Sukhothai in 1833 and returned with two inscriptions: number I, the Ram Khamhaeng inscription, and number 4, the Khmer inscription of King Li Thai. It is also possible that there were already others who knew about Sukhothai inscriptions and had made an effort to decipher them. For instance, in his travel memoir Sadet praphat ton, King Chulalongkorn wrote that the abbot of Wat Rakhang in Bangkok visited Kamphaeng Phet in 1849 and successfully read an inscription there.12

The Ten Royal Virtues The Ten Royal Virtues mentioned in Nang Nopphamat are listed in a birth story of the Buddha, the Nandiyamiga Jātaka (no. 385), the story of a deer in a royal park who stood fearlessly as the king was about to shoot him with an arrow, and then proclaimed the virtues after the king put down his bow. The future Buddha is the deer, who instructs the king concerning the virtues. They appear in a verse, but unlike most of the Jātaka verses, it is not considered canonical.13 Peter Skilling has written, “The history of the ten royal virtues remains to be investigated. Could the list have been drawn up in South India, in Lanka, or in South-East Asia?”14 This uncertain pedigree helps explain Nang Nopphamat (Bangkok, 1960), p. 17. Bunnak Phayakkhadet, ed., Phra Barommarachathibai khong ratchakan thi 5 (Bangkok: Khlang Witthaya, 1963), pp. 162-63. 13 Inferred from its absence in the online Pali canon, where the previous and following verses do appear. 14 Peter Skilling, “King, Saṅgha, and Brahmans: Ideology, ritual, and power in pre-modern Siam,” in Ian Harris, ed., Buddhism, Power and Political Order (London and New York, 2007), p. 195. An important study of the Ten Royal Virtues in Burma was not known to me in 2009: Aurore Candier, 11

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why little can be found about the virtues in books on Buddhism. To explicate the Ten Royal Virtues, I will jump to the sermon given by Kromma Luang Vajirayanavangsa, the Supreme Patriarch and abbot at Wat Bovornives, on the occasion of King Bhumibol’s coronation in 1950. Vajirayanavangsa was then 78 years old. He was a royal, having been born a mom ratchawong in the Nopphawong family. This is the stanza: Dānaṁ sīlaṁ pariccāgaṁ ajjavaṁ maddavaṁ tapaṁ akkodhaṁ avihiṁsā ca khantī ca avirodhanaṁ

And these are Vajirayanavangsa’s explanations, some of them differing somewhat from what one might read in a Pali dictionary: Dāna “giving” Sīla “guarding body and speech from blemish” pariccāga “renunciation” ajjava “uprightness” maddava “gentleness” tapa “rejection of indolence and wickedness” akkodha “absence of anger” avihiṁsa “not molesting other creatures, including animals, to the point of suffering” khanti “bearing those things which ought to be born” avirodhana “not departing from the straight and narrow, controlling oneself and remaining unaffected by power, enjoyment, or displeasure”15

Vajirayanavangsa went on to state that the Ten Royal Virtues ought to be cultivated by all, not just kings. And for him, patriarchy was part of the natural order of things; the head of state follows the same principles as the head of the household. Vajirayanavangsa’s sermon was published in 1973, on the occasion of the 60th birthday of Somdet Phra Yanasangwon, who had become the abbot of Wat Bovorn in 1961 and was named Supreme Patriarch in 1989. It is through the proselytizing of Somdet Phra Yanasangwon that the Ten Royal Virtues have become a significant element in contemporary discourse, as can be discovered by undertaking a search of Thotsaphit ratchatham in Thai letters on the Internet. Did the author of Nang Nopphamat necessarily know what the Ten Royal Virtues were, or was she (or he) merely repeating a formulaic expression? We cannot say for sure. Let us look at some of the other instances in the early Bangkok period. One is the Three Seals Code, the law code assembled in 1805, in which a myth is related in the “A Norm of Buddhist Kingship? The Concept of Raza-dhamma through Five Konbaung Period Texts,” The Journal of Burma Studies 11 (2007): 5-48. 15 Wachirayanawong, Thotsaphit ratchatham lae lak phra phutthasatsana (Bangkok, 1973), p. 17. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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opening portion. According to this legend, two generations of a family of hermits were concerned that the king be endowed with the Ten Royal Virtues. The hermit Manosara flew to the outermost wall of the cosmos, where he saw the Pali-language text of the Thammasat, the divine law, incised. He memorized it and on his return to earth wrote it down.16 The text, when taught to the king, was the means by which the monarch would become endowed with the Virtues and other key Buddhist qualities as well. The second instance I take from the translation by Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit of the long narrative poem Khun Chang Khun Phaen. A Lao king has sent a flattering letter to the King of Ayutthaya: In the missive, the king of Wiang, ruler over the royal wealth of the city of Si Sattana, upholder of truth and religion, pays respect to the King of Ayutthaya, the great, who resides under a tiered white umbrella higher than that of any monarch in all directions. He begs to present tribute of gold to the king of the capital of Si Ayutthaya, who has such renown that every country quails and submits, who protects the mass of the populace and soldiery so they are joyful, who upholds the Ten Royal Virtues, who governs with justice and honesty ั้ ทรงทศพิธ ครองธรรมสุจริตเป็นใหญ่ ).17 (หนึง่ พระองค์นน

Here I would add that the word ทรง (song) need not be understood exactly as “uphold.” Uphold suggests that the virtues are somehow distinct from the king, whereas ทรง can imply that the king and the virtues are one and the same. Something similar can be said about a stanza in a long poem by Phraya Trang, written in praise of King Rama II in 1818. There it is the bodhisattva, Maitreya, the future Buddha, now residing in heaven, who possesses (or ทรง) the Ten Royal Virtues.18 The Ten Royal Virtues do appear briefly in the two Thai cosmologies, the Trai Phum Phra Ruang, attributed to the 14th-century King Li Thai of Sukhothai, and the Bangkok cosmology compiled in 1802.19 In the Trai Phum Phra Ruang, in the section on humankind, there is a description of the cakravartin, the ideal king. Here it is not a question of being an embodiment of the virtues; instead, the emperor exhorts lesser kings to live up to them: Rueang kotmai tra sam duang (Bangkok, 1978), pp. 6-8; The Ayutthaya Palace Law and Thammasat, Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit, trans., to appear. I am grateful to Chris Baker for sharing his translation with me. 17 The Tale of Khun Chang Khun Phaen, trans. Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit, 2 vols. (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2010), vol. 1, pp. 505-6. In 2009, I used the slightly different translation posted on Pasuk Phongpaichit’s Chulalongkorn University web site. For the Thai text, Khun Chang Khun Phaen (Bangkok, 1962), p. 508. 18 Phraya Trang, Khlong dan chalœm phra kiat (Bangkok, 1969), stanza 311, p. 80. 19 For the latter, see David K. Wyatt, “The ‘Subtle Revolution’ of King Rama I of Siam,” in Moral Order and the Question of Change, ed. David K. Wyatt and Alexander Woodside (New Haven: Yale University Southeast Asian Studies, 1982), p. 25. I cannot find it in the Thai text. 16

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At that time the great Cakkavatti king teaches the rulers to live according to the Dhamma. He then speaks as follows: “Let the rulers and kings observe the ten dhammic rules for kings, and do so without ever ceasing. Love your princes and your courtiers, the holders of successively lower ranks, and the common people, the slaves and the free men. Do not choose certain ones to love and certain ones to hate—love them all equally.”20

The passage continues, and in fact, enough texts have been cited to observe a general pattern. The Ten Royal Virtues are mentioned at the beginning of these passages, followed by the recitation of qualities that are considered by the writers to exemplify the virtues. Inscription 5 (22 September 1361) I.14f.

He rules in conformity with the Dasabiddharājadharma (= Pali dasabidharājadhamma “ten-fold royal dharma,” the Ten Royal Virtues). He is merciful to all his subjects (phrai fā khā thai). When he sees someone’s rice he does not covet it, when he sees someone’s wealth he does not get angry. When a father dies [his estate] is left to the son, when an elder brother dies it is left to the younger. When anyone quarrels with him about large matters or small, [the King] does not put him to death or injure him. When he captures enemy warriors, he does not kill or beat them, but looks after them well so that they may not die. When he catches people who cheated or betrayed him, or people who tried to poison him, he does not kill or beat them. Those who have done him harm he has set free so many times that they cannot be counted. The reason why he shows such forbearance in cases is because he has resolved … to become a Buddha and to take all living creatures beyond these miseries of transmigration….

Inscription 3 (23 June 1357) II.26 [He wields] power in accordance Dasabiddharājadharma….

the royal with the

II.43f. When commoners (phrai fā khā thai) or men of rank (lūk čhao lūk khun) [die]…. he must not seize their estates; when a father dies, (the estate) must be left [to the sons; when an elder brother dies, it must be left to] the younger. Any ruler who acts in accordance with these principles (tham, dharma) … will rule this Muang for a very long time; any (ruler) who acts in violation of them will not last long at all.

Frank E. and Mani B. Reynolds, trans., Three Worlds According to King Ruang (Berkeley, Asian Humanities Press, 1982), pp. 147-48. Thai text, Trai phum phra ruang khong phraya Li Thai (Bangkok: Khlang Witthaya, 1966), p. 110. 20

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King Li Thai of Sukhothai, credited with composing the Trai Phum, came to the throne in 1347. Inscriptions 3, 4 (which is in Khmer), and 5 contain parallel passages, and some of the sentences (but not the mention of the Ten Royal Virtues) are found also in Inscription I, the inscription of Ram Khamhaeng, Li Thai’s grandfather. This, if it does not date from 1292, as once thought, still dates from Ram Khamhaeng’s lifetime.21 In inscription 5, in the left hand column, let us notice the initial attribution of the Ten Royal Virtues, and then jump past the list of good qualities and actions to the last sentence, “The reason why he shows such forbearance in cases is because he has resolved … to become a Buddha and to take all living creatures beyond these miseries of transmigration.” The king, that is, aspires to the status of a bodhisattva. In Inscription 3, there are more missing sections. But let us notice the last sentence here. “Any ruler who acts in accordance with these principles … will rule this Muang for a very long time; any (ruler) who acts in violation of them will not last long at all.” What did King Li Thai think was the mechanism for the departure or demise of a despotic or inept ruler? Maybe it was in line with the kind of political thought that helps explain the phu mi bun, the holy man, or possessor of merit, as found in the Ayutthaya chronicles.22 That is, the ruler finds that he has already received the fruits of his good karma, and now the bad fruits await him. A rival with more merit than his appears on the scene and is acclaimed by the people. That is not the only possible explanation, however.

Sukhothai inscriptions in the 20th century Once the Sukhothai inscriptions were deciphered and published, intellectuals who wished to define the nature of the state or the character of the Thai people did not need to create a mythical Sukhothai, such as we see in Nang Nopphamat. They could turn directly to the inscriptions. I will now jump considerably forward in time, first to a lecture by Prince Damrong Rajanubhab, delivered in 1927, and second to a talk by M.R. Kukrit Pramoj in 1960. Prince Damrong’s lecture of 1927, titled “The Characteristics of the Governance of Siam since Ancient Times,” was given during the reign of King Prajadhipok, A. B. Griswold and Prasert na Nagara, “The Epigraphy of Mahādharmarājā I of Sukhodaya, Epigraphic and Historical Studies No. 11 Part I, JSS 61, pt. 1 (Jan. 1973), pp. 71-178 (Inscr. 3, pp. 108, 110; Inscr. 5, pp. 154-56). For the date of Inscription I, see Hans Penth, “Difficulties with Inscription I,” in James R. Chamberlain, ed., The Ram Khamhaeng Controversy: Collected Papers (Bangkok: Siam Society, 1991), p. 545. 22 The Royal Chronicles of Ayutthaya, trans. Richard D. Cushman (Bangkok: Siam Society, 2000), p. 8 (the birth of a phū mī bun, from the legends that introduce the British Museum but not other editions of the Ayutthaya chronicles) and p. 300 (during the reign of King Narai, his successor Phra Phet Racha is recognized as a phū mī bun). For “already received the fruits of his good karma,” I am indebted to a conversation with Prof. Paul Mus at Yale in 1967 or 1968. 21

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twelve years after Damrong’s resignation as Minister of the Interior in 1915.23 At the time he was president of the Royal Institute. In general, certain types of behavior that have seemed so far to be reflections of Buddhist ideals were treated by Prince Damrong, instead, as native characteristics of the Thai people. He described the Thai as tolerant, willing to extend charity to all religions and to embrace people of different ethnicities, such as the Chinese, who are assimilated in two or three generations, and the ancient Khmer, whom he called Khom, and who be believed populated Siam in considerable numbers in the Sukhothai period. His emphasis on tolerance and assimilation seems in part to have been a reaction to the strident nationalism of King Vajiravudh, monarch from 1910 to 1925. In Vajiravudh’s 1917 drama Pr’a Ruang, which is based on a legend found in the Phongsawadan Nuea, Pr’a Ruang declaims: Alas we are the subjects of the Khom king, Born Thai but enslaved in a dreadful fate24

This plays on the understanding that the word Thai also means “free.” (I quote from an English translation by Prince Prem Purachatra, made in 1979.) Prince Damrong was certainly a nationalist—a fundamental trait of the Thai people, he says in the lecture, is their love of freedom, and this is why, in early times, they departed from China—but he was, in contrast to King Vajiravudh, a subtle one. Prince Damrong’s concept of the nation—Prathet Sayam, he called it—was as a realm in which people of different ethnicities could be embraced. It was also a concept that could be projected into the past. Sukhothai, for him, was the first capital of Siam. Inscription I, the Ram Khamhaeng inscription, is the only one he mentions. According to the prince, in this inscription the king is presented as the father of the people. And this belief, for Prince Damrong, is rooted in indigenous Thai social structure, starting with the “father of the kitchen” and then progressing to “the father of the village,” and moving upward from there. “The father rules the child,” he says—that’s the Thai way. Just how prominent in the inscription is the concept of patriarchal kingship? It is surely present, in the section near the beginning, for instance, in which the king speaks of his service to his father. It is also present in the king’s title Pho Khun, though this is not without ambiguity. Khun is a title for the head of a mueang or town, and so Pho Khun can be taken to mean either “Father and Khun” or merely “Presiding Khun.” As an example of patriarchal kingship, Prince Damrong pointed to the passage “Rueang laksana kan pok khrong prathet sayam tæ boran,” somewhat abbreviated text in P. Phibunsongkhram and La-iat Phibunsongkhram, eds., Prawattisat Sukhothai (lem 1) (Bangkok, 1955), pp. 119-32. 24 Vajiravudh, P’ra Ruang: Drama in Verse, trans. Prem Purachatra (Bangkok: King Vajiravudh’s Centennial Committee, 1980), p. 1. 23

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M. R. Kukrit lecturing at Wat Si Chum in Old Sukhothai, 31 March 1960 (after Kham banyai samana borankhadi samai Sukhothai pho so 2503, opp. p. 160).

about the ability of the people to ring a bell at the palace gate in order to petition the monarch. This can also be understood, however, as more a matter of the adoption of Buddhist ideals, and of the self-image of the king not only as embodiment of the personal qualities that comprise the Ten Royal Virtues, but as a future Buddha, such as indicated by inscriptions 3 and 5 of King Ram Khamhaeng’s grandson, Li Thai. The sentence “When he [the king] sees someone’s rice he does not covet it, when he sees someone’s wealth he does not get angry” appears both in the Ram Khamhaeng inscription and in Inscription 5.25 Historically, such concepts can be traced back to the 11th-century Mon-language inscriptions of King Kyanzittha of Burma. They reached Sukhothai as a result of the documented intercourse between Mon-speaking lower Burma and Sukhothai in the 13th and 14th centuries. For Prince Damrong, on the other hand, the concept of king as bodhisattva was Khom or Khmer, and was part of a bundle of beliefs of a different lineage altogether, one that was bit by bit incorporated into the indigenous Thai belief system. Now to the 1950s. Field Marshall Pibulsonggram, during his prime ministership of 1948 to 1957, established a Committee for the Collection of Sukhothai Period Historical Materials and named as chairman the distinguished author of books and articles about Thai customs, Phya Anuman Rajadhon. One volume of collected articles and excerpts from books was published in 1955, and it is in this volume that I have read Prince Damrong’s 1927 lecture. 25

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The Sarit regime began in 1957, and in 1960 the Fine Arts Department organized a seminar at the site of Sukhothai, with Phya Anuman presiding. By this time the energetic and sagacious Dhanit Yupho, whose prior career in the Fine Arts Department had been in the classical dance division, had become Director General of the Fine Arts Department. The proceedings of the 1960 seminar were published on the occasion of the opening of the Ram Khamhaeng Museum in 1964. This was the second provincial museum to be built, the first being the Chao Samphraya Museum in Ayutthaya. The modern era, with provincial museums created and staffed by the Fine Arts Department, had begun. One of the speakers at the 1960 symposium was M.R. Kukrit Pramoj, publisher of the newspaper Siam Rath and writer of its “Problem of the Day.” His brief spell as prime minister in 1975-76 stood long in the future. In his paper “Governance in the Sukhothai Period,” Kukrit’s approach to the Ram Khamhaeng inscription resembles Prince Damrong’s—that is, he tells us, if not exactly who we are, who we should be.26 Like Prince Damrong, he emphasizes patriarchal kingship. The family, he says, is the basis of governance. Otherwise, Kukrit, born in 1911, not 1862, and speaking at the time of the imposition of a military dictatorship, has different concerns on his mind. He finds in the inscriptions of Sukhothai an expression of rights he holds important. One is equality under the law. His basis is Inscription I.1.25-27, “When commoners [phrai fa] or men of rank [luk chao luk khun] differ and disagree, [the King] examines the case to get at the truth and then settles it justly for them.” For Kukrit, the mention of commoners and men of rank together here indicates that one group is not treated differently from the other. Another right is freedom of speech, or something close to it. On festival days, according to Inscription I (1.2.19-20), “Whoever wants to make merry, does so; whoever wants to laugh, does so; whoever wants to sing, does so.”27 Kukrit writes, “The right of the freedom of the people to laugh is one of the most fundamental. This right is one of the first an unjust ruler will dissolve, and when it is gone, loss of the others will surely follow.” The third right is that of deposing an unjust ruler. Here the basis is the passage from Inscription 3 quoted above. “Any ruler who acts in accordance with these principles … will rule this Muang for a very long time; any (ruler) who acts in violation of them will not last long at all.” Kukrit explains that “these principles” (tham, dharma) specifically refer to the Ten Royal Virtues mentioned a number of lines previously. When a ruler acts unjustly, citizens (he uses the anachronistic term ratsadon) have the right (sit, siddhi) to topple him and put a new king on the throne. So it is not a matter of the king just disappearing, as I suggested might have been the M.R. Khukrit Pramot, “Kan pok khrong samai Sukhothai,” in Kham banyai samana borankhadi samai Sukhothai pho so 2503 (Bangkok: Fine Arts Department, 1964), pp. 161-71. 27 A. B. Griswold and Prasert na Nagara, “The Inscription of Rāma Gaṃhèṅ of Sukhodaya (1292 A. D.), Epigraphic and Historical Studies, No. 9” JSS 59 pt. 2 (July 1971), pp. 207, 210-11 (179-228). 26

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understanding of King Li Thai, but the positive actions of an involved citizenry. As for the Ten Royal Virtues, there is no specific discussion of them, and, if Kukrit had been asked in 1960 to identity them, I cannot say for sure whether he would have been able to. In 1988, an art historian, Dr. Piriya Krairiksh, gave a lecture at the Siam Society in which he questioned the authenticity of the Ram Khamhaeng inscription. In 1991, The Ram Khamhaeng Controversy, edited by Jim Chamberlain, was published. It included contributions by Dr. Piriya, who presented his reasons for believing that the inscription was created between 1851 and 1855, during the reign of King Mongkut,28 papers from a 1989 Association for Asian Studies panel, in which I participated, and contributions from other scholars, in particular, Michael Vickery, who questioned the date of the inscription without necessarily agreeing that it was carved in the mid19th century. More recently, in 2004, a somewhat revised presentation of Dr. Piriya’s theories appeared, with an introduction by Nidhi Eoseewong.29 Dr. Nidhi did not go so far as to say that he agreed with Dr. Piriya—he thought readers would have to make up their own minds—but he maintained that at the least it is clear that there are problems with Inscription I, as demonstrated by the work of M.C. Chand Chirayu Rajani and Michael Vickery. Dr. Piriya, he tells us, set himself a daunting twofold goal—not just raising questions but providing a positive thesis, that the inscription was composed and engraved in the 19th century. For Dr. Piriya’s integrity, says Dr. Nidhi, he has the highest regard. Now if one art historian, Dr. Piriya, can dismiss the Ram Khamhaeng inscription, then another can surely embrace it. But I also wish to say something rather different. When I started putting together materials for this talk, I was intending to observe that the removal of the Ram Khamhaeng inscription from the realm of ordinary discourse, the fact that it is considered too hot to handle, represents, overall, a cultural loss. The best minds, whether they be those of historians or newspaper columnists, should be continuing to look at the inscription just as Prince Damrong and M.R. Kukrit did, as a text to draw on in the light of contemporary concerns. The inscription does not have a fixed meaning; to find words in it that resonate with what one believes today is a sign of civilized discourse. Now, more sadly I suppose, I question that. Perhaps, instead, at the present juncture, the search to define what a society is and ought to be is best carried out without regard to the burden of the past.

Piriya Krairiksh, “The Date of the Ram Khamhaeng Inscription,” in The Ram Khamhaeng Controversy: Collected Papers, ed. James R. Chamberlain (Bangkok: Siam Society, 1991), p. 269. 29 Phiriya Krairuek, Charuek Pho Khun Ram Khamhaeng (Bangkok: Sinlapa Watthanatham, 2004). 28

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Overview of Thai Manuscripts at the Nordsee Museum (Nissenhaus) in Husum, Germany Peera Panarut and Volker Grabowsky

Abstract—There are ten Thai manuscripts at the Nordsee Museum in northern Germany. This article presents a description of each manuscript along with transliteration and translation of key extracts.

Very few people would expect to find manuscripts from Thailand in a small local museum situated in a rather remote area of north-central Europe. The NordseeMuseum Husum, located in the Nissenhaus, is one such place, where treasures from Thailand have been kept for almost a century without being noticed by the outside world until very recently. How could that happen? Situated on the shores of the North Sea, Husum (Frisian: Husem) is the capital of Northern Friesland (Nordfriesland) district in Schleswig-Holstein, situated some forty kilometres south of the German-Danish border. The town of 22,000 inhabitants is best known as home of the poet and writer Theodor Storm, author of Der Schimmelreiter (“The Rider of the White Horse”) and a native of Husum, where he spent his youth and part of his adult life. Another famous son of the town was Ludwig Nissen. Born on 2 December 1855 as the sixth of ten children of a rope maker, young Ludwig left his home town in August 1872, at the age of sixteen, with the consent of his parents, and travelled on board the steamship “Westphalia” from Hamburg to New York. Although we do not have any letters or any other evidence offering clues as to the motives for Ludwig’s emigration, the fact that his elder brother Fritz had already settled in New York some time earlier definitely helped Ludwig’s start in the New World. There, he rose from working at jobs such as a dishwasher to become a steward and cashier, then an innkeeper and, finally, in May 1881, he founded a jewellery store. Ten years later, Ludwig Nissen had become one of the city’s most successful dealers in jewels, and established his business on New York’s Fifth Avenue.1 Although Nissen was never accepted as a full member by the city’s business elite, he held various important positions in the social and economic sectors of New Klaus Lengsfeld, “Leben und Vermächtnis des nordfriesischen Auswanderers Ludwig Nissen”, in: Bilder aus der Neuen und der Alten Welt: Die Sammlung des Diamantenhändlers Ludwig Nissen. Husum: Schleswig-Holsteinisches Landesmuseum, Kloster Cismar, Nissen-Haus, p. 11.

1

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York society. In 1895, he was elected President of the Society of New York Jewelers, due to his outstanding knowledge of pearls and diamonds. As a member of the board of directors of several banks and insurance companies, he exercised considerable economic influence. In 1900, Nissen made it onto the list of the sixty most influential citizens of Brooklyn.2 Politically affiliated with the Republican Party, Nissen cultivated a close personal friendship with President Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919), but he never became directly involved in American politics. Ludwig Nissen’s passion was art. Together with his wife, Katharine (née Quick, 1862–1930), the daughter of German-Swiss immigrants, he collected numerous paintings, precious art objects and souvenirs from his many travels to Europe and Asia. Many of the contemporary paintings that decorated his luxury three-storey villa in Brooklyn were by German and German-American artists; remarkable is the presence of Alsatian painters in the Nissen collection.3 Throughout his life, Nissen remained closely affiliated with his home country, Germany, both culturally and emotionally. His pro-German attitude did not change even after the outbreak of World War I. In 1920, after the war had ended and Germany was in political and social turmoil, Nissen visited his home town for the first time since his departure almost half a century before. Under a pledge of secrecy, Nissen informed the district administrator of Husum, Dr. Heinrich Clasen, of his plans to establish a cultural institution in his home town that would have the mixed use of museum, cultural centre, library and art gallery. Ludwig Nissen died in Brooklyn on 26 October 1924 at the age of 68. Having no children, he bequeathed almost his entire estate to the town of Husum.4 His widow Katherine, who survived her husband by only six years, did the same.5 However, due to adverse conditions – unknown heirs contested Nissen’s will and the 1920s world economic crisis caused severe financial losses – Dr. Heinrich Clasen, as chairman of the Nissen Foundation, finally received in 1932 only one third of the original inheritance to build the museum, which was nevertheless constructed between 1934 and 1937. After the completion of the building, the remains of Ludwig and Katherine Nissen were transferred to the Nissenhaus, where they found a dignified final rest in the building’s hall of fame.6 Before his death, Nissen had already donated to the town of Husum a large number of precious art objects, including many which he had systematically acquired in the early 1920s from other German institutions. In September 1922, Hermann Mildenberger, “Der Millionär als Kunstsammler: Anmerkungen zum Austausch zwischen zwei Welten, in: Bilder aus der Neuen und der Alten Welt, p. 19. 3 Ibid., pp. 20–23. 4 Nissen’s estate was estimated at 2.5 million Marks or roughly US$600,000. This is equivalent to approximately US$16 million today. 5 She bequeathed another US$170,000 to the town. This is equivalent to approximately US$4.6 million today. 6 Lengsfeld, “Leben und Vermächtnis des nordfriesischen Auswanderers Ludwig Nissen”, ibid., p. 12. 2

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through his agent Mr. Derschuch, Nissen bought some 3,000 objects from the former municipal museum (Städtisches Museum) of Weimar, which needed additional financial resources due to the prevailing dire economic situation in Germany. Most of the acquired art objects had once been part of the collection of Dr. Bruno Schwabe, the main founder of the Weimar municipal museum. Others came from smaller collections. The ten manuscripts from Thailand (known as Siam until 1939) came from two smaller collections, namely that of the German physician Dr. Christian Rasch and the well-known Swiss-German travel writer Ernst von Hesse-Wartegg.7 Rasch lived in Siam in the early 1890s, having been employed as “physician-in-ordinary” to King Chulalongkorn (r. 1868-1910), which explains the presence of medical treatises and divination manuals in the Husum collection of Siamese manuscripts.8 Von Hesse-Wartegg visited Siam in 1898 on his voyage back from Qingdao, China, to Germany, and apparently acquired a number of manuscripts during that relatively short visit.9 In the years preceding the outbreak of World War I, both men sold manuscripts to other German institutions, including the present-day State Library (Staatsbibliothek) of Berlin. When in 1963 Klaus Wenk published his catalogue of 246 Thai manuscripts, spread over fourteen German libraries and museums in ten different cities, no mention was made of the Husum collection.10 Oriental manuscripts were usually kept in the large state and university libraries, as well as renowned ethnological museums. Nobody would have expected even a small collection of such manuscripts in one of the many smaller provincial museums. In the case of the Nordsee Museum in Husum, the scientific staff – primarily interested in the promotion of the local Frisian cultural heritage – were for many decades not even aware of the existence of the Siamese manuscripts. In early 2012, Dr. Sven-Hinrich Siemers, then the curator Sven-Hinrich Siemers, “Die mitteldeutsche Sammlung des Nordsee-Museum-Nissenhaus in Husum”, unpublished paper, p. 1. 8 See 1894 Directory for Bangkok and Siam. Bangkok: White Lotus, p. 181. Rasch authored two articles on the geographical pathology of Siam, namely “Ueber das Klima und die Krankheiten im Königreich Siam”, Virchows Archiv, Vol. 140, No, May 1895, pp. 327–384; “Zur geographischen Pathologie Siams”, Janus, Archives Internationales pour l’Histoire de la Médicine et la Géographie Médicale, Vol 1, 1896–1897, pp. 445–460 and 503–514. We are grateful to Barend Jan Terwiel for providing us with the biographical data of Christian Rasch. As Terwiel has recently pointed out, Wenk’s catalogue did not only exclude a number of collections from the former German Democratic Republic, but also overlooked some of the Thai manuscripts kept in former West Germany. See Barend Jan Terwiel, “Cultural Goods and Flotsam: Early Thai Manuscripts in Germany and those who collected them”, unpublished paper. As for the Husum collection, however, Wenk could simply not have been aware of them during his lifetime. 9 In his book Siam: das Reich des weissen Elefanten (Leipzig: J.J. Weber, 1899; reprint: Bangkok: White Lotus) von Hesse-Wartegg devotes a short chapter (pp. 228–229) to the production and use of palm-leaf manuscripts and leporello manuscripts made of the pastboard similar to khòi paper. 10 Klaus Wenk, Thai-Handschriften (Verzeichnis der orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland, Vol. IX, 1). Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1963. 7

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of the Museum, found a 1932 inventory list providing some basic information about the manuscripts and other Southeast Asian art objects. He contacted Volker Grabowsky, Professor of Thai Studies at the Asien-Afrika-Institut of the University of Hamburg, and the study of Husum’s Siamese manuscripts began. We hope that the description of the ten Siamese manuscripts kept in the Nissenhaus of Husum will stimulate further research on Southeast Asian manuscripts brought to Germany a century ago.

Notes on transliteration Apart from a general description of each manuscript, focusing on various aspects of physical condition and layout, particular pages or folios, notably the colophons, prefaces, as well as the beginning and the end of each text in the manuscript, have been transliterated. In cases where the original text was written in Thai (Siamese) language, regardless of whether in Thai or Khòm script,11 the text is transliterated into modern standard Thai script, along with a translation into English. On the other hand, if the original text was written in the Pali language with Khòm script, the text is transliterated both into modern standard Thai script and Roman script. For the transliteration of Thai texts written in modern Thai script, the orthography of the original (late 19th or early 20th-century) Thai text has been preserved, strictly adhering to the original orthography. In other words, each word is spelled as in the original text, and not according to the standard spelling as recorded in a modern dictionary. Therefore, the transliterated text looks quite different from a modern one. For example, in the transliterated text the spelling , ่ or would be recorded, according to the original text in many of our manuscripts, differing from the modern standard spelling ,, and , respectively. Regarding the transliteration of Thai language texts from Khòm script into the modern Thai script, the symbol bindu (Sanskrit; pronounced phinthu in Thai) – < ฺ > – meaning a little dot below the consonant is employed to indicate a double consonant in which the consonant after the dotted one appears in the original orthography as a ligature. As for texts written in the Thai language, the spacing within a text is kept according to the original manuscript. Due to the convention that Pali texts in traditional manuscripts are always presented without inserting spaces between the words, the transliterated Pali words are separated according to semantic units for Until the beginning of the 20th century, the Khòm script was used for works written in Pali. It was also frequently used for religious texts in the vernacular (i.e. Thai). On the other hand, manuscripts with secular content were only written in the Thai script. The Siamese manuscript culture thus differs from the manuscript cultures of the Burmese, Mon and Khmer, where Pali texts were always written in the respective script of the country. 11

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the sake of easier reading, while the orthography is not changed. Furthermore, there are still two traditional punctuation marks: Angkhan diao and Visanchani . They were used by the traditional scribes for marking the end of a sentence, a stanza, or a particular part of a text. Both of them function in the same way. However, a single-text manuscript consistently tends to use only one of them. Angkhan diao, the first one, shares the same form with the punctuation Paiyan nòi , which marks the abbreviation associated with the previous word, but Angkhan diao does not have any function shared with Paiyan nòi at all. In the transliterated text, the use of as Angkhan diao, marking the end and division of texts, is transliterated into the sign < | > in the Romanised text. Visanchani might not be widely known to modern readers as a punctuation symbol in the Thai language. This symbol is usually perceived as the representation of a short vowel called sara-a in colloquial Thai although it is traditionally known under the term Visanchani; it is regularly used in modern Thai. Furthermore, Visanchani is also used as a sign representing the glottal stop and appearing at the end of a short syllable, for example, , and in modern Thai. In ancient Thai, many words, which nowadays are never spelled with Visanchani, also employ this sign to signify a glottal stop, for instance, , , , and . Such usage is testified in numerous inscriptions and manuscripts.12 However, in manuscripts Visanchani is mostly employed to mark syllabification to separate words at the end of a line or a page or is inserted due to the holes that are pierced to tie palm leaves together in a bundle (phuk). In this case, Visanchani functions like the modern hyphen, indicating that the whole word is not yet complete. In Thai transliteration, the original form of the punctuation symbol Visanchani is kept, usually isolated from other words through spacing. For the Romanisation, the punctuation is transliterated as the symbol < ¦ >. However, this sign does not have any association with the colon as it is used in Western languages, but functions like the modern hyphen. Furthermore, there are also many cases where in manuscripts words are separated, but the punctuation symbol Visanchani is not written in the script. In these cases, we add the modern hyphen < - > in order to mark the division of words. Although the two punctuation symbols < ¦ > and < - > basically share the same function in the transliterated texts of this article, it should be noted that < - > never appears in the manuscript while < ¦ > is transliterated from the punctuation symbol Visanchani, which was originally written by the scribe. In addition, other signs are employed to describe some particular features of the primary text. For instance, three dots point out that the text in the manuscript was damaged and thus could not properly be read and understood. The strikethrough (for example, ) is used to indicate the scribe’s own correction, See more in Supanvanit, Ing-orn. Wiwatthanakan aksòn lae akkharawithi thai. [Development of Thai Scripts and Orthography./วิวัฒนาการอักษรและอักขรวิธีไทย.] Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University 1984. pp. 485–486. 12

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which traditionally appears as a small circle in the middle of the corrected letters or words. The editors’ explanations are indicated by round brackets (), the filling of lacunae in the text by square brackets [], and deletions suggested by the editors by braces {}.

SI 13 Title: - (fragment of Pali text, beginning with folio number ใค) Language: Monolingual Pali Script: Khòm Writing Support: Palm-leaf Writing Substance: Black ink (written with a pen) Size: 57 cm x 5.5 cm, 11 folios (written on both sides), five lines per page. Date: undated Inventory-No.: 346 /HW 422 (Thus, the manuscript was originally in the possession of Ernst von Hesse-Wartegg.) Remarks: The palm leaves are not inscribed in the traditional way by using a stylus, but they are instead written in black ink. In some instances the ink is smeared, although the general state of the manuscript is still quite good. The palm leaves are pierced on both sides as is usually the case in Siamese and Lao palm-leaf manuscripts. The cotton thread going through the left hole holds the manuscript together. Folio ใค 1r

1: หิ จ กลมฺพเกหิ สญฺชนฺโน มุจจฺ ลินโฺ ท นาม โส สโร อเถตฺถ ปทุมา ผุลลฺ า อปฺปริยนฺตาว ทิสสฺ เร ตมฺหา เหมนฺตกา ผุลลฺ า ชณฺณตุ คฺฆา ะ 2: อุปตฺถรา สุรภสมฺปวายนฺติ วิจิ ะ ตฺรา ปุปผฺ สณฺฐติ า ภูมรา ปุปผฺ คนฺเธน สมนฺตามภนาทิต าติ อเถตฺถ อุทกํ ตสฺมึ รุกขฺ า ติ 3: ฏฺฐนฺติ พฺราหฺมณ กทมฺพา ปาตลิผลุ ลฺ าะ โกวิทธฺ ารา จ ปุปผิตา องฺโกรา กทฺมกิ า ราชปา ริชญฺญา ะ จ ปุปผฺ ติ า วารณา วุยหฺ นา รุกขฺ า มุจจฺ 4: ลินทฺ มุพภฺ โต สรํ สิรสิ า เสตปาริสา มธุวายนฺติ ปทมฺมกา นิคคฺ ณ ุ ฑฺ ิ สรนิคคฺ ณ ุ ฑฺ ิ อสนา เปตฺ ถ ปุปผฺ ติ า ปงฺกรา พกุณเสณ โส 5: ภญฺชนกา จ ปุปผฺ ติ า เกภกา กณฺณกิ ารา จ กณฺณวิรามปุปผฺ ติ า อชฺชนุ า อชฺชกุ ณฺณา จ มหา นามา จ ปุปผฺ ติ า สปุปผฺ ติ คฺฆา ติฎฐฺ นฺติ ปชฺชTransliteration f°1r/1 hi ca kalaṃbakehi sañjanno muccalindo nāma so saro athettha padumā phullā appariyantāva dissare tamhā hemantakā phullā jaṇṇutagghā ¦ f°1r/2 upattharā surabhasampavāyanti vici ¦ trā pupphasaṇṭhitā bhūmarā pupphagandhena samantāmabhanāditāti athettha udakaṃ tasmiṃ rukkhā tif°1r/3 ṭṭhanti brāḥmaṇa kadambā pātaliphullā ¦ koviddhārā ca pupphitā aṅkorā kadmikā rājapārijaññā ¦ ca pupphitā vāraṇā vuyhanā rukkhā muccaf°1r/4 lindamubbhato saraṃ sirisā setapārisā madhuvāyanti padammakā Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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nigguṇḍi saraniggaṇḍi asanā pettha pupphitā paṅkarā bakuṇaseṇa sof°1r/5 bhañjanakā ca pupphitā kebhakā kaṇṇikārā ca kaṇṇavirāmapupphitā ajjunā ajjukaṇṇā ca mahānāmā ca pupphitā sapupphitagghā tiṭṭhanti pajja-

Folio ง 14v

1: สํกปฺปมญฺญาย เทวินโฺ ธ เอตทพฺรวิ สพฺเพ ชิตา เต ปจฺจหุ า เย ทิพพฺ า เย จ มานุสสฺ า นินนฺ าทิต า เต ปถวิ สทฺโธ เภติ ทิวงฺคโต สมนฺตา วิชชฺ ตา อาคู คริ2: นํ วปติสสฺ ตุ า ตสฺส เต อนุโมทนนฺติ อุโภ นารทปพฺพตา อินโท จ พฺรหฺมา จ ปชาปติ จ โสโม ยโม เวสฺสวณฺโณ จ ราชา สพฺเพ เทวา อนุ3: โมทนฺติ ทุกกฺ รํ หิ กโรติ โส ทุททฺ ทิ ํ ททมานานํ ทุกกฺ รํ กมฺมกุพพฺ ตํ อสนฺโต นานุ กุพพฺ ตา สตํ ธมฺ โม ทุรนฺนโย ตสฺมา สตญฺจ อสตญฺจ นานา 4: โหติ อิโต อิโต คติ อสนฺโต นิรยิ ํ ยนฺติ สนฺโต สคฺคปฺปรายโน ยํ เม ตํ กุมาเร อททา ภริยํ อททา ะ วิเนวิสํ พฺรหฺมยานํ มโนกมฺมํ สคฺโค 5: เตสํ วิมจฺจตูติ ททามิ โภโต ภริยํ ม(ทึส)ุ พงฺ(คโสภณึ) ตญฺโญว มทฺทยิ า ฉนฺโน มทฺทิ จ ปตินา ตยา ยถา ปโยตสํโข จ อุโภ สมานวณฺณะิ Transliteration f°14v/1 saṃkappamaññāya devindho etadabraḥvi sabbe jitā te paccuhā ye dibbā ye ca mānussā ninnāditā te pathavi saddho bheti divaṅgato samantā vijjatā āgū garif°14v/2 naṃ vipatissutā tassa te anumodananti ubho nāradapabbatā indo ca braḥmā ca pajāpati ca somo yamo vessavaṇṇo ca rājā sabbe deva anuf°14v/3 modanti dukkaraṃ hi karo tiso duddidaṃ dadamānānaṃ dukkaraṃ kamma-kubbataṃ asanto nānu kubbatā sataṃ dhammo durannayo tasmā satañca asatañca nānā f°14v/4 hoti ito ito gati asanto niriyaṃ yanti santo saggapparāyano yaṃ me taṃ kumāre adadābhariyaṃ adadā ¦ vinevisaṃ brahmayānaṃ manokammaṃ saggo f°14v/5 tesaṃ vimaccatūti dadāmi bhoto bhariyaṃ ma(diṃsu) ba.ṅa(gasobhaṇiṃ) taññova maddiyā channo maddi ca patinātayā yathā payotasaṃkho ca ubho samānavaṇṇi ¦

SI 14a Title: - (fragment of a Pali version of Vessantara Jataka, beginning with folio number ฉ)ุ Language: monolingual Pali Script: Khòm Writing Support: Palm-leaf Writing Substance: Blackened with soot and lamp-black after being inscribed with a stylus Size: 4.5 cm x 4.2 cm / 9 + 3 two-sided written folios, five lines per page. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Date: Remarks: Apart from the nine folios written recto and verso, there are also three much smaller palm leaves – written recto and verso as well – of which almost one quarter of the original length has been cut on both sides. Thus, only one-half of the original text has been left on these leaves. The space surrounding the two holes is unusually wide, i.e., for the hole on the left side: diameter of 3 cm; for the hole on the right side: diameter of 2.7 cm. The distances of the text from the right and left margins are 4.5 and 5.5 cm, respectively. Content: The text of the manuscript, composed wholly in Pali, is part of the Nakhòn kan (P. nagara-kaṇḍa ‘city chapter’), the last chapter of the Vessantara Jātaka, one of the most popular avadāna in Theravada-Buddhist mainland Southeast Asia. However, the text in the manuscript differs from the Pali verses inserted in the Thai version of the Vessantara Jātaka, traditionally called khatha phan (literally ‘the thousand verses’).13 Folio ฉุ (1) r

1: เตน วุตตฺ ํ ฯ ตโต เวสฺสนฺตโร ราชา รชฺโชชลฺลํ ปวาหยิ สพฺพํ วตฺตํ จชฺเชตฺวาน ราชเวสํ อธาร ยีติ ฯ ตตฺถ ปวาหยีติ หาเรสิ หาเรตฺวา จ ปน ราชเวสํ ตณฺหตี ิ อตฺโถ ฯ อถ2: สฺส ยโส มหา อโหสิ ฯ เตน โอโลกิโตโลกิตฏฺฐานํ กปฺป ฯ มุขปงฺคลิกา มงฺคลานิ โฆสยีสุ ฯ สพฺพตุรยิ านิ ปคฺคณฺหสี ุ ฯ มหาสมุทธฺ กุจฉฺ ยิ ํ 3: เมฆคชฺชติ นิคโฺ ฆโส วิย ตุรยิ นิคโฺ ฆโส มหา อโหสิ ฯ หตฺถริ ตนํ อลงฺกริตวฺ า อมจฺจา อุปนยึสุ ฯ โส ขคฺครตนํ พนฺธติ วฺ า หตฺถรี ตนํ อภิรยุ หฺ ิ ฯ 4: ตาวเทวนํ สพฺเพ สหชาตา สฏฺฐสิ หสฺสา อมจฺจา สพฺพาลงฺการปติมณฺฑติ า มหาสตฺตํ ปวารยึ สุ ฯ สพฺพา กญฺญาโย มทฺธปึ ิ เทวี ณฺหาเปตฺวา อลงฺกริตวฺ า อ5: ภิสญ ิ จฺ ติ วฺ า สิเส จ ปนสฺสา อภิเสโกทกํ อภิสญ ิ จฺ ยิ มานา เวสฺสนฺตโร ตํ ปาเลตูติ อาทีนิ มงฺ คลานิ วทึสุ ฯ ตมตฺถํ ปกาเสนฺโต สตฺถา อาห ฯ สิสํ ณฺหาTransliteration f°1r/1 tena vuttaṃ | tato vessantaro rājā rajjojallaṃ pavāhayi sabbaṁ vattaṃ cajjetvāna rāja-vesaṃ adhārayīti | tattha pavāhayīti hāresi hāretvā ca pana rājavesaṃ taṇhīti attho | athaf°1r/2 ssa yaso mahā ahosi | tena olokitolokitaṭṭhānaṃ kappa | mukhapaṅgalikā maṅgalāni ghosayīsu | sabbaturiyāni paggaṇhīsu | mahāsamuddhakucchiyaṃ f°1r/3 meghagajjitanigghoso viya turiyanigghoso mahā ahosi | hatthiratanaṃ alaṅkaritvā amaccā upanayiṃsu | so khaggaratanaṃ bandhitvā hatthīratanaṃ abhiruyhi | f°1r/4 t ā v a d e v a n a ṃ s a b b e s a h a j ā t ā s a ṭ ṭ h i s a h a s s ā a m a c c ā sabbālaṅkārapatimaṇditā mahāsattaṃ pavārayiṃsu | sabbā kaññāyo maddhiṃpi For the Pali verses of this chapter in the authoritative Thai version of the Vessantara Jātaka, see Fine Arts Department, 1971: 356–362.

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devī ṇhāpetvā alaṅkaritvā af°1r/5 bhisiñcitvā sise ca panassā abhisekodakaṃ abhisiñciyamānā vessantaro taṃ pāletūti ādī-ni maṅgalāni vadiṃsu | tamatthaṃ pakāsento satthā āha | sisaṃ ṇhā-

Folio ฉุ (1) v

1: โต สุจวิ ตฺโถ สพฺพาลงฺการภูสโิ ต ปจฺจยํ นาคมารุยหฺ ขตฺตํ พนฺธิ ปรนฺตปํ ตโต สฏฺฐ-ิ สหสฺสานิ โยธิโน จารุทสฺสนา สหชาตา ปริกรึสุ นนฺธยนฺตา รเถสกํ อิโต มทฺธึ ณฺหา-เปสุ 2: สีวกิ ญฺญา สมาคตา เวสฺสนฺตโร ตํ ปาเลตุ ชาลิกณฺหาชินา จุโภ อโถปิ ตํ มหาราชา สญฺ ชโย อภิรกฺขตูติ ฯ ตตฺถ ปจฺจยํ นาคมารุยหฺ าติ ตํ อตฺตโน 3: ชาตทิวเส อุปปฺ นฺนํ หตฺถนิ าคํ ฯ ปรนฺตปนฺติ อมิตตฺ ตาปนํ ฯ ปริกรึสตู ิ ปริวารยึสุ ฯ นนฺธยนฺ ตาติ โตสนฺตา ฯ สิวกิ ญฺญาติ สิวริ ญฺโญ ปชาปติ4: โย สนฺนปี ติตวฺ า คนฺโธทเกน ณฺหาเปสุฯํ ชาลิกณฺหาชินา จุโภติ อิเม เต ปุตตฺ าปิ มาตํ อกฺ ขนฺตตู ิ ฯ อิทญฺจ ปจฺจยลทฺธา ปุพเฺ พ กิเลสมตฺตโน 5: อานนฺธยิ ํ ปริจรึสุ รมฺมณิเย คิรพิ เฺ พชฺเช ฯ อิทญฺจ ปจฺจยํ ลทฺธา ปุพเฺ พ กิเลสมตฺตโน อานนฺ ธิจติ ตฺ า สุมนา ปุตเฺ ต สํคมฺเม ลกฺขณา ฯ อิทญฺจ ปจฺจยํ ลทฺธา ปุพเฺ พ กิเลTransliteration f°1v/1 to sucivattho sabbālaṅkārabhūsito paccayaṃ nāgamāruyha khaggaṃ bandhi parantapaṃ tato saṭṭhisahassāni yodhino cārudassanā sahajātā parikariṃsu nandhayantā rathesakaṃ ito maddhiṃ ṇhāpesu f°1v/2 sīvikaññā samāgatā vessantaro taṃ pāletu jālikaṇhājinā cubho athopitaṃ mahārājā sañjayo abhirakkhatūti | tattha paccayaṃ nāgamāruyhāti taṃ attano f°1v/3 jātadivase uppannaṃ hatthināgaṃ | parantapanti amittatāpanaṃ | parikariṃsūti parivārayiṃsu | nandhayantāti tosantā | sivikaññāti sivirañño pajāpati f°1v/4 yo sannīpatitvā gandhodakena ṇhāpesuṃ | jālikaṇhājinā cubhoti ime te puttāpi mātaṃ akkhantūti | idañca paccayaladdhā pubbe kilesamattano f°1v/5 ānandhiyaṃ paricariṃsu rammaṇiye giribbejje | idañca paccayaṃ laddhā pubbe kilessamattano ānandhicittā sumanā putte saṃgamme lakkhaṇā | idañca paccayaṃ laddhā pubbe kile-

Folio เฉา(5) v

1: มหาชนสฺส ธนทายเก มหาสตฺเต อาคเต ฯ นนฺทปิ ปฺ เวสีติ เวสฺสนฺตสฺส มหาราช.... (ใบลาน ขาด) 2: โมกฺโข อุคโฺ ฆสิโต อนฺตมโส วิลารํ อุปาทาย เวสฺสนฺตรํ มหาราชา สพฺพสตฺเต พนฺธนา วิส... (ใบลานขาด) 3: ตาย รตฺตยิ า มมาคตภาวํ สุตวฺ า ยาจกา อาคมฺมสิ สฺ นฺติ เตสาห กึ ทส... (ใบลานขาด) 4: นฺโต ตํ การณํ ญตฺวา ตาวเทวราชนิเวสฺสนสฺส ปุรมิ วตฺถญ ุ จฺ ปจฺฉมิ วตฺถญ ุ จฺ ... (ใบลานขาด) 5: กลนคเร ชานณุปปฺ มาณํ วสฺสาเปสิ ฯ ปุน ทิวเส มหาสตฺโต เยสํ เยสํ กุลานํ ปุรมิ -... (ใบลานขาด) Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Transliteration f°5v/1 mahājanassa dhanāyake mahāsatta āgate | nandippavesīti vessantassa mahārāja … (the manuscript is damaged) f°5v/2mokkho ugghosito antamaso vilāraṃ upādāya vessantaraṃ mahārājā sabbasatte bandhanā visa…(the manuscript is damaged) f°5v/3 tāya rattiyā mamāgatabhāvaṃ sutvā yācakā āgammissanti tesāha kiṃ dasa…(the manuscript is here damaged) f°5v/4 nto taṃ kāraṇaṃ ñatvā tāvadevarājanivessanassa purimavatthuñca pacchimavatthuñca…(the manuscript is here damaged) f°5v/5 kalanagare jānaṇuppamāṇaṃ vassāpesi | puna divase mahāsatto yesaṃ yesaṃ kulānaṃ purima… (the manuscript is here damaged)

There are three folios following folio เฉา (5) which remain only in fragments. The left and right parts of each folio are damaged, causing the number of folio marked by the scribe at the left margin of the verso side to become absent, while very little text in each folio could be read.

SI 14b (SI 25) Title: Language: Thai and Pali Script: Thai and Khòm Writing Support: Leporello manuscript of white-greyish khòi paper Writing Substance: Black ink. Size: 36.3 cm x 11.8 cm / 78 two-sided written folios (totalling 156 pages). Date: 2406 BE (AD 1863/64), according to the colophon in the part of Pathamasambodhi, page 112. Inventory-No.: 358 /HW 423 (Thus, the manuscript was originally in the possession of Ernst von Hesse-Wartegg.) Remarks: The cover folio (recto) is written by pencil. The main text is written in calligraphy. Content: The contents of this manuscript are mixed. It contains stories from Thai Buddhist cosmology to the history of Buddha Gautama’s life (Pathamasambodhi in Pali or Pathomsomphot in Thai), and also a textbook of how to learn Thai, as well as a yanta manual (ต�ำราเขียนเลขยันต์) Page 2 Cover verse: หน้าต้นประถม ศมุทสอง ของคุนท์นน ิ สร้าง Translation: First page. Volume Two. Khunnin sponsored it.

Page 3–24 Cosmology: Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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World of the Preta (Pali peta) – fringe of the universe – world of human beings – mountains surrounding Mount Sumen (Skt. sumeru)– catu mahā rājika level of heaven – tāvatiṃsa heaven. Page 3 (Khòm Script:) ทุกกฺ เปตํ เวทนํ อโหสิ ฯ (Thai Script:) อันเปรฏจ�ำภวกอนึงย่อมค่าพระสงฆเจ้า

นัน้ ย่อมส้รพปล้บมุศาวาธาหาความจิงบ่อหมิได้ ครัน้ สัรปรุศท้งหลายท�ำร้านำ�้ ไว้ให้ทาน ท�ำใจษามาลก็หลักเอา นำ�้ แล่ม์ ม่อไปซ่อนเสีย ลางทีกท็ บุ ต่อยตีดเี สียเปลาๆ ครัน้ ตนตายไปเล่าก็ได้ทคุ หล�ำ่ บาก มีปากเท่ารูเฃมย่อมมี ตัวอันเม้น สงสารเอ๋ย เมือจะยากนำ�้ ยากเข้า ก็วงิ่ ระเหระหน แสบตนเปนลำ�้ บาก ครัน้ ภบนำ�้ จะกิน้ ก็ลำ�้ บาก ย่อม ข่าศใจตายไปท้องเปลา แต่เวยินตายแต่เวยินเกืดเวยินระไวยอยูเ่ ป็นปัTranslation: (Khòm Script:) dukkapetaṃ vedanaṃ ahosi | (Thai Script:) One type of Preta (Thai: pret), which killed the monks, told a lie. When good people made a shelter for the donation of water, those people with the wicked mind stole the water and the pot to be hidden. Sometimes they destroyed the water pot. When they die, they will receive much suffering, having a mouth as small as a needle’s hole and having a fetid body. It is so piteous when they become hungry and thirsty, they wander in search of them in pain. When they find water, it is still so hard to drink that they would die without any water in their stomachs. They always die and then get born repeatedly for (…)

Page 24–112. Pathamasambodhi (story of Buddha’s life) At the end of this part, there are texts written in Khòm script (but Pali language) and Thai script: Page 111 (Khòm Script:) นโม ตสฺส ภควโต อรหโต สมฺมาสมฺพท ุ ธฺ สฺส

ฯ ตุสสฺ สิ สฺ -คพฺภลกฺขณ-ราชาภิ เสกฺก-มหาภิเนสฺสกฺรมฺม-ทุกกฺ รกิรยิ า-พุทธฺ ปชา-มารวิชยฺย-อภิสมฺโพธิ-โพธิสพฺพญฺญ-ู พฺรหฺมเชฏฺฐธมฺมจกฺก-สากฺยราชาชบพฺพชฺชา-เทสฺสนาปริวตฺต-นิพพฺ านสูตรฺ พฺรปถมสสมฺโพธิ ปริปณ ู ณ ฺ า นิฏฺ ฐิตา แล ฯ Transliteration: (Khòm script) Namo tassa bhagavato arahato sammāsaṃbuddhassa tussissa-gabbhalakkhaṇa-rājābhisekka-mahābhinessakramma-dukkarakiriyā-buddhapajā-māravijayya-abhisambodhi-bodhisabbaññū-braḥmajeṭṭha-dhammacakka-sākyarājājapabbajjā-dessanāparivattanibbānasūtra-phrapathamasa saṃbodhi paripūṇṇā niṭṭhitā lae

Page 112 [Thai Script:]

ข้าพระฬ์พทุ ธีเจ้าม่หา่ น๊ณท์ ร้างค์ไว่ใน้ส�ำรัพพระศาศะหณ้า แล่ะข้าเกืษม่าชาด Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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ติใด่ยๆ ฃอให้ภพพระษรีอา่ รริยะเม่ษไตร่ นิบภ่ารณปัจโย่คโ์ หตุ ฯ พระประถมเฃยีน จบ ปีชหลุ สัพพะศกเดือนใอ้ แร่มสีบส่ามค�ำ วันเสา พุทถะศักราชลว่งแล้วนัน้ ใด้ ๒๔๐๘ พระวะษา จพ ฯ หน้านีนอโมใม Translation: (Thai script) I, Mahan, sponsored [this manuscript] for [the support of] the teachings of the Buddha (sāsana). In whatever existence I will be born, I wish to meet Phra Si Ariya Mettrai (Pali: Ariya Metteyya). Nibbāna paccayo hotu. I have copied (khian) Phra Prathom (Pathama saṃbodhi) in the year chalu saptasok (year of the cow, the seventh year of the decade), on the thirteenth waning day of the first month, a Saturday.14 2408 years of the Buddhist era have already passed. When the page ends, the Namo verse is repeated again.

Pages 113–144 Pathom Kò Ka (Textbook for learning the fundamentals of the Thai language) Page 113 begins with the contents of ปฐม ก กา, a Thai language textbook:

(อักษรไทย) ประถมกก่าแต่งใม่ณท่ารเอ่ย กก่าข้าไหว้นอโม่จ�ำไว้ ไหว้กอข้อไปนอโมเป็นครู รู อยูแ่ ก่ใจกอข้อแม่ไท่ ....

Translation: This is Pathom kò ka which I newly compose, my reader! (In learning) kò khò, I revere with the word nòmo and remember (the script). Revere kò khò and nòmo as the teacher. Remember the kò khò in your heart and...

This part explains and exemplifies the basic orthography of Thai language in a long rhyming story, ending on page 144 of the manuscript:

(อักษรไทย) สิน้ ฉบัพแต่เท้าธ์ณี ห์ณะท่ารผูอ้ า่ นเอ้ย ฉันพึงษรเฃยีนย่าได้ตเิ ตยีนเล้ย

Translation: (Written in Thai script) Here ends this text. Dear reader! I have just been taught to write. Please do not blame me.

Pages 145–152 The sacred words in respect to Buddha, a wish and the sacred words in making of Yantra ค�ำสรรเสริญพระพุทธ ค�ำอธิษฐาน และค�ำสวดประกอบการลงยันต์ The descriptions of Aveci Hell and Heaven are very brief, starting on page 145 of the manuscript:

(อักษรไทย) อุกาศะทัง ฯข้าฯ จะฃอประนมบังคมดุศดี ตังเหนือเม้าฬีทงั สอง

Translation: (Written in Thai script) Ukāśa (O this occasion). Full of joy, I pay homage and place above my crown both {hands}…

Colophon on pages 151–152 14

This date corresponds to 2408 Margasirsha 28 = Saturday, 16 December 1865. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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(อักษรไทย) ให้ ฯ ข้า ฯ ลุถงึ พระนิฤๅภาร กว่าจะสีน้ พินโย่นพิ ภารณะปัดไจโย่โหตุ ๚ะ๛ ล้าน ลักเบอืง้ ทรายแลสวษม่นดีแล่ ๚ะ๛ ถ้าผูใ้ ด่ยมื ไปอย่าได้นอนอารจะตกณะรกใต้เถ้นเทวะทัด แสนกะนอะนันทะชาษใด่ๆ Translation: (Written in Thai script) May I reach Nibbāna. (…) until [any other] better state is exhausted. Nipphannapatcaiyohotu (a Thai variation of Pali: Nibbānapaccayo hotu). ๚ะ๛ If someone wants to borrow [the manuscript] he must not lie down when reading it. [Otherwise] he would go to the same hell as Devadatta for one hundred thousand aeons (Pali: kappa) and infinite births.

[อักษรขอม] หิรโิ อตปฺปสปนฺโน สุขธมฺมสฺสมาหิตาลตฺโน สปฺปรุ สิ า โลเก เทวธมฺมาติ วุจเร

Transliteration: (Written in Khòm script) Hiriotappasapanno sukhadhammassamāhitālatno sappurisā loke deva dhammāti vucare.

[อักษรไทย] คาถานีภ้ าวะนากันมห้ายักทุกเชาค�ำแล ๚ะ๛ ถ้าไครหมีสวดมนภูน้ นั จะมัก่ ใขเจพ หมีศะบายเลย ๚ะ๛

Translation: (Written in Thai script) This magic spell (khatha15) has to be prayed five times every morning. ๚ะ๛ If someone recites prayers (suat mon) he will be cured from illness and feel happy.

SI 26 Title: Rachathirat (King of Kings) สมุด ราชาทีร่ าช เล่ม ๑ Language: Thai Script: Thai Writing Support: Blackened khòi paper Writing Substance: White steatite pencil Size: 33.2 cm x 11 cm; 60 folio (120 pages), four lines per page. Date: The date when the manuscript was produced is unclear, but the composition of the text is dated 2328 BE (AD 1785), as stated in the manuscript. Inventory-No.: 359 Author/Scribe: Phaya Phra Khlang, Phaya In Akkharat, Phra Phiromratsami, Phra Si Puriya พญาพระคลัง, พญาอินอัคราช, พระพิรมรัศมี, พระศรีปรุ ยิ Colophon: On page 5 (not including the title pages) Remarks: The blackened khòi paper is written in white ink. An exception is the front cover folio written in yellow ink. The last three folios have remained blank. Content: This manuscript contains the first part of Rachathirat (ราชาธิราช ‘King The word khatha or คาถา, though etymologically deriving from the Pali word gāthā denoting “a verse, stanza, line of poetry” (Rhys-Davids, 1972: 248), means “magic spell” in the Thai language.

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of Kings’), a Siamese translation of the Mon chronicle, dealing with the history of the Mon kingdom from the late 13th century to the 15th century. The text in the manuscript corresponds to the text in the Fine Arts Department Edition (2011: 1–22), though some variations can be noticed. This version was composed by Cao Phraya Phra Khlang (Hon) and other officers under a royal decree promulgated by King Rama I in 1785, as mentioned in the manuscript. The text of the manuscript apparently belongs to the version of Rachathirat, known as “Cao Phraya Phra Khlang (Hon)’s Rachatirat,” not the other two versions composed in the early Bangkok period.16 Page 1 (Cover)

สมุด ราชาทีร่ าช เล่ม ๑

Translation: Manuscript Rachathirat, volume 1.

Page 5

ศุภมัศดุพระพุทธศักราช ๒๓๒๘ ปีมเสงนพศก17 สมเดจ์พระพุทธิเจ้าอยู่หัวเสดจ์ฯ ออกณะ พระธินั่งจักรพัตพีมารในท่ามกลางเสนาพฤกทามาทราชกระวีมุคทังปวงเฝ้าทูลออง ฯ จึ่งมี พระราชโองการมาณพระบัลทูลโปรฎเกล้าฯ ด�ำรัตว่าเรื่องราชาธิราชผรังมังฆองแปลเปนรา มัญภาษาเปนสยามภาษาถวาย Page 6

สมเดจ์พระอณุชาทิราชกรมพระราชวังบอวรฯ แปลกเปลีย่ นกันทีท่ รงฟังสังเกษไว้แต่กอ่ น จึง่ ทรง พระราชด�ำหริเรือ่ งทรงแปลงข้อความเรือ่ งราวราชาธิราชภาษารามัญออกเปนสยามภาษาใหม่ ข้าพระพุทธิเจ้า พญาพระคลัง พญาอินอัคราช พระพิรมรัศมี พระศรีปรุ ยิ ข้าทูลออง ฯ รับราชบริหารเรียบเรียงตามเรือ่ งแลในเรือ่ งราวพระเจ้า Page 7

ราชาธิราชนัน้ ว่า ยังมีมหาเถนองคหนึง่ …

Translation (pp. 5-7): May prosperity and goodness reign. In BE 2328, the year The other two known versions of Rachathirat are: Rachathirat of the Front Palace, composed in the Front Palace evidently before the version of Cao Phraya Phra Khlang (Hon) in 1785, as mentioned in manuscript SI 26; and Mahāyuddhakāravaṃsa, a Pali version composed by Somdet Phra Wannarat of Chetuphon Monastery. Both versions were composed in the early Bangkok period. Unfortunately, the manuscripts of Mahāyuddhakāravaṃsa are lost (see more in Kannikar Sartraproong, 1998: 47). 17 The scribe seems to have recorded an incorrect year. BE2328 is equivalent to CS1147, the year ending with seven or saptasok, not with nine or nopphasok as stated in the manuscript. The printed edition of Rachathirat by the Fine Arts Department (2011: 1) also states saptasok or ‘the year ending with seven’ as well. 16

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maseng nopphasok (the year of the snake, the ninth year of the decade), raised from his throne, surrounded by all his ministers and councillors. His Majesty made the proclamation that Rachathirat has been translated from Mon into Siamese and has now been presented to his younger brother, the viceroy. [This story] used to be difficult to listen to, thus it was ordered to translate Rachathirat from the original Mon language into Siamese. We, Phaya Phra Khlang, Phaya In Akkharat, Phra Phirom Ratsami, Phra Si Puriya, were entrusted with the new edition of the story of Rachathirat. Once upon a time there was an abbot (…)

Pages 7–118 The story of Rachathitat (first part)

ครัน้ เรือนแล้วเมือ่ จะขึน้ เรือนนัน้ ลัคะยาพะยุจงึ่ ว่าแก่สมิงอัคมะมอรว่า บุญยาทิ การแห่งท่านมากนัก ข้าพเจ้าได้ปลูกเรือนใหญ่ถงึ เพียงนี้ เพราะบุญยาทิการของท่าน ขอเชิญ ท่านลงไปเหยียบเรือนข้าพเจ้าให้เปนเกรียดิยศไว้ ชาวเมืองพะโคจะได้เลือ่ งฦๅชาปรากฏไปทัว่ ทัง้ พระนคร ฝ่ายสมิงอัคมะมอรนัน้ ะ Page 118:

Translation: Having arrived at the house, thus Lakkhayaphayu spoke to Saming Akhamamòn: “Your merit is so great. I have built such a big house because of your merit. I would like to invite you to my house to honour me. Then the people of Pegu would become aware of my fame spreading throughout the capital city. Then Saming Akhamamòn (The manuscript ends here).

SI 27 Title: - (medical treatise) Language: Thai Script: Thai Writing Support: White greyish khòi paper Writing Substance: Black ink Size: 36.2 cm x 11.8 cm; 80 folios (160 pages), five lines per page Date:Inventory-No.: 360 Remarks: The front cover folio (recto) bears the marking “SI 27 Dr. Rasch” and a Chinese seal, probably indicating ownership. The right and left margins of each folio are marked. A large number of folios are left unwritten. Content: This is a medical treatise (ด�ำรายา). Page 4–35

Page 4 starts with: สิทธิการิยะ โกมารแพทยอ้นวิเศศ แต่กอ่ นโพ้นสืบมา พรรณาก�ำเนีด Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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เอนทัง้ หล้าย อันบังเกีดในกายเรายาวว่าหนึง ก้วางศอกหนึง ให้รเู้ ทียง้ ทแท้ อย่าให้เคลีอณ คลาดจุลาจลได้ แก้ลมประจ�ำนาภี นัน้ ผูกประมาณ ๑๒ องคุลแี ล้วจึงมีเอน เกีลยวกระหวัดรัด อยู่ ในนาภีนนั้ เปนอันมากมือยูถ่ งึ ๗๒๐๐๐ เส้นแล มีเอน ๑๐ เส้นเปนประทานแก่เอนทัง้ หล้า ยแล ๏๑ เอนเส้นหนึงชือ่ อีทานัน้ แล่นออกมาจาก นาภี (หน้า ๔)

Translation: Sitthikariya (siddhikāriya). Magical medicine has been transmitted since ancient times. The origin of all the tendons is described. They originate in our body. [The tendons] are one wa (2 m) long and one sòk (50 cm) wide. We must know them accurately. They must not move around the navel (naphi). Having a length of roughly 12 inches (ongkhuli) they are called tendons. They are tigthtend at the navel. There are up to 72,000 tendons of which the one with a length of ten sen (40 m) is the main tendon. There is one tendon called itha running out of the navel.



Pages 36–94: Blank pages Pages 96–156: Content continued Pages 157–158: Blank pages

SI 28 Title: - (Medical treatise) Language: Thai Script: Thai Writing Support: White-greyish khòi paper Writing Substance: Black ink Size: 36.0 cm x 11.8 cm; 80 folios (160 pages), four to six lines per page Date: Remarks: The front cover folio (recto) bears the marking “SI 28 Dr. Rasch” and a Chinese seal, probably indicating ownership. A large number of folios are left unwritten. Content: This is a medical treatise (ด�ำรายา) with almost the same text as SI 27. Pages 3–35 Page 3 starts with: สีทธิการีย

โกมาระแพทยอันวิเศศแต่กอ่ นโพนสืบมา พรรณาก�ำเนิด เอน ทัง้ หลาย อันบังเกิดในกายเรายาววานึงกว้างศอกนึง ให้รเู้ พียงแท้อย่าให้คลาดเคิลอน จุลาจน ได้ แก้ลม ประจ�ำหน้านัน้ ทุกประมาณ ๑๒ องคุลแิ ล้วจึงมีเอนกว้างศอกนึงใ เกีย้ วกระหวัดวัด อยูใ่ นนาภีนนั้ เปนอันมาก อยูถ่ งึ ๗๒๐๐๐ เส้นแลมีเอน ๑๐ เส้นเปนประทานแก่เอนทัง้ หลาย แล ฯ๑๐ เอนเส้นนึงชือว่าอีทานัน้ แล่นออกมา จากนาภีนนั้ แลเน่าไปเอาต้นฃาเบือ้ งทร้ายแล้วไป เอาสันหลัง แนบขึน้ ไปตามกระดูกสันหลังฃ้างทร้าย แล้วแล่น ผ่ากระหวัดขึน้ ไปเบือ้ งบนศรีศะ แล้วกลับลงมาเอานาสิกเบือ้ งท้ราย อยูป่ ระจ�ำลมจมูกชือ่ ว่าจันทะกะลาแลฃ้าง ท้รายนัน้ ฯ ๒๐ เอนเส้นอนึงชือ่ ว่าปลิงคะลา Translation: Sitthikariya (siddhikāriya). Magical medicine has been transmitted Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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since ancient times. The origin of all the tendons is described. They originate in our body. They are one wa (2 m) long and one sòk (50 cm) wide. We must know them accurately. They must not move around the navel (naphi). Having a length of roughly 12 inches (ongkhuli) they are called tendons. They are tigthtend at the navel. There are up to 72,000 tendons of which the one with a length of ten sen (40 m) is the main tendon. There is one tendon called itha running out of the navel. It passes the thigh of the left side and then takes the spine. It clings to the bone of the left side spine, then it embraces the brain. Thereafter it returns taking the left wing of the nose. The tendon at the nostrils is called canthakala, and the tendon at the left side is called palingkhala.

Page 36–92: Blank pages Page 93–126: Content Page 127–140: Blank pages Page 141: Back cover

SI 29 Title: Rap fòng tat fòng tat samnuan prawing รับฟ้องตัดฟ้องตัดส�ำนวนปรวิง (Decisions of Law Cases)

สันซ้าย: รับฟ้องตัดฟ้องตัดส�ำ สันขวา: รับฟ้องตัดฟ้องตัดส�ำนวนปรวิง

Left ridge: Rap fòng tat fòng tat sam Right ridge: Rap fòng tat fòng tat samnuan prawing Language: Thai Script: Thai Writing Support: White-geyish khòi paper Writing Substance: Black ink Size: 36.5 cm x 12.3 cm; usually five lines per page Date: Culasakkarat 1166 (AD 1804) Content: The first part of the manuscript contains a Law Code, thus the title of the manuscript. However, the second part has a completely different content. The second text, running over pages 95–154, is (part of) an astrological treatise. It seems to be a manual about the writing of Yanta - ต�ำราเขียนยันต.์ This text is illustrated mostly with magic squares, containing both numerals and letters. Pages 3–94 Content: Kotmai phra aiyakan rap fòng tat fòng - กฎหมายพระอัยการรับฟ้องตัดฟ้องฯ (Criminal Law Code: Accepting charges, cutting off charges.) Page 3 starts with:

๏ วัน ... ค�ำ่ จุลศกราช ... ปีฉสัพศก ฃ้าพเจ้า

นาย…

ทาน

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(later added)

นาย… นาย…

วัน ๓ ฯ ๑๐ ค�ำ่ จุลศักราช ๑๖๑[๗] ปีสพั ศก ข้า หลวง… ทาร ๒ นายประชา นาย… ทาน ๓ ครัง้ ถูกต้องตามฉบับแล้ว สมุดบทพระอายการลักษณรับฟองตัดฟองตัดส�ำ นวันตัดพญาณประวิง่

Translation: In (…) CS (…), a year chalu saptasok,18 I, Mr. (…) donated. (later added:) On the tenth waxing day of the third month, in CS 116[7], a year chalu saptasok (year of the cow, the seventh year of the decade),19 I, Luang (…), Mr. Pracha [and] Mr. (…) revised [this manuscript] three times. [It] fully corresponds to the original manuscript entitled Phra aiyakan laksana rap fòng tat fòng tat samnuan tat phayan prawing (Criminal Law Code: Accepting charges, cutting off charges, cutting off eye-witnesses).

Page 5

ศุภมัศดุ ๑๑๖๖ มุสกี ะสังวัจฉรมาฆมาศ ศุกะปักษยปาฏีบทดฤษถีครุวาระบรี เฉทกาลก�ำหนด พระบาดสมเดจ์พระบรมราชาธิราชรามาธีบดี ศรีสนิ ทรบรมมหาจักรพัรรตีรา ชาธิบดีนทรธรณีนทราธิราช รัตนากาศภาศกระวงษองคปรมาธิเบศตรีภวู เนศวรนารถนายกดีล กรัตนราชชาตีอาชาวะไศรยสมุดยดะโรมนต์ สกลจักรว่าฬาธิเบนทรสุรเี ยนทราธิบดีนทรหริหรื นทราธาดาธีบดี ศรีสรี สุวบิ ลุ คุณอักนีตฤทธีราเมศวรธรมมีกราชาธีราชเดโชไชยพรหม Page 6

เทพาตีเทพตรีภวู นาธีเบศ โลกะเชษฐวีสทุ ธีมกุฏประเทศคตามหาพุทธางกูรบรมมะบพีตรพระพุ ทีเจ้ายูห่ วั อันเสดจ์ปราบดาภีเศกผ่านพีพบกรุงเทพทวาราวะดี ศรีอยุทธยามหาดี ลกภพนพรัตนราชธานีบรุ รี มย์ เสดจ์ออกพระธินงั่ บุษ่ บกมาลามหาจักรพัรรดีพมี าน พร้อม ด้วยหมูม่ กุ ขมาตยามนตรีกระวีชาตีราชสุรวี งษพงษพฤฒาโหราจารย เฝ้าเบือ้ งบาทบงกชมาศ จึง่ เจ้าพญาศรีธรรมราชเดชชาติอ�ำมาตยานุชตี รพีพที วรวงษพงษภักตียาธีเบศวราธีบดี ศรี Page 7

รัตนราชโกษาธีบดีอภัยพีรยี บรากรมภาหุ กราบบังคมทูลพระกรรูณา ด้วยข้อความนาย บุนศรีชา่ งเหลกหลวงร้องทุกขราช กล่าวโทษพระเกษม/นายราชาอรรถ ไจความว่าอ�ำแดงป้อม ภรรยานายบุนศรี ฟ้องหย่านายบุญสีๆไห้การแก่พระเกษมว่าอ�ำแดงป้อมนอกไจท�ำชูด้ ว้ ยนาย ราชาอรรถแล้วมาฟ้องหย่านายบุญสีๆไหม่ยา่ พระเกษมหาพีจารณาตามค�ำไห้การนายบุนสี ไม่ พระเกษมพุดจาแพละโลมอ�ำแดงป้อม แลพีจารณาไม่เปนสัจ/ธรรม เข้าด้วยอ�ำแดงป้อม

Translation (pp. 5-7): May prosperity and goodness reign. CS 1166, the year of

The year of the oxen, the seventh year of the decade. This most probably refers to the year CS 1167 (AD 1805/6). 19 1167 Magha 10 = Wednesday, 29 January 1806. 18

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the rat (Musikasangvatchara), the third lunar month (Maghamat), the first day of the waxing moon (Sukapaksaya-patibotdithi), a Thursday (Kharuwara). This day corresponds to 31 January 1805 which, indeed, was a Thursday. His Royal Highness, the King of Siam,20 who rules the royal capital city,21 surrounded by his high priest, ministers and councillors, has been given to decide the case of Nai Bun Si, a royal blacksmith, who brought a charge against Phra Kasem and Nai Racha-At. This case was that Amdaeng Pòm, Nai Bunsi’s wife, had accused Nai Bunsi and had taken claim for divorce. Nai Bunsi told Phra Kasem that Amdaeng Pòm had committed adultery with Nai Racha-at and then taken claim for divorce. But Nai Bunsi did not divorce. Then Phra Kasem did not listen to Nai Bunsi’s account. He cajoled Amdaeng Pòm and did not judge with truth and justice.

Remark: In 1804, a women called Amdaeng Pòm became well-known through a legal appeal by her husband. Amdaeng Pòm had committed adultery and asked for legal divorce. The court dispensed justice in her favour. Her husband, Nai Bun Si, filed an appeal asking the King for a final decision. King Rama I was very reluctant to allow a divorce because of adultery committed by the wife. According to his view, the wife should not be allowed to get her divorce. However, the King was not able to prevent the divorce as the Law stipulated that a wife also had the right to divorce without any proven negligence by her husband. Finally, the King had to obey to the Law. This sensational law case prompted the taking inventory and a thorough revision of the prevailing legal norms of the time. In the same year, the Codex Rama I was promulgated.22 Page 152

(ต�ำราเขียนยันต์): เอาไปพรํมทาคํนทังล้าย ห้ายแลยูสกุ อันนึง่ เยาวเรอีนผีหลอกเอาราช่ชาง นัน้ แล้วชุพน�ำเสก ๑๙ คาวเอาน�ำซัดท้วทังเรอีน ผีผดุ มาหมีได้เล้ยห่เหรส้ตรูหนีสนิ่ แล้ ท่ารํบ หนเรีอเอาราชชาง นัน้ ลํงไนฃันน�ำชูบรํดหัวคนหทังลายลํงเรีอไปรํบมีไชฉะนะ อันนึง่ ไฃ้ยนักผํ นทัวตัว เปนปวงก็ดเี อาลํงฃัน น�ำ ๓๓ ทีรดํ ทังคํนหายแล้ พฺรคาถานีพ้ รฺยาชางเผอีกแล้ ยาสํน เทเล้ยหาทีอปุ ระมาหมิได้เล้ย เมีอจะท�ำดูเรีกตํงดี ตามทูบเทยีนเคาตอกดอกไม้ ไวครูบาท่ยาย แล้วท�ำเทีดถ่าจะ Translation: (…) Used for sprinkling and rubbing people to be calm. In case the house was haunted by ghosts, take Ratchang, make charm for nineteen times and then hurl it throughout the house. Ghosts then cannot enter [the house] while enemies always flee [from the house]. In the naval battle, take Ratchang into a

The exalted official name of the Siamese king runs over six lines. The long exalted name for Bangkok is given. 22 Kittisak Prokati, “Der Einfluss des deutschen Rechts auf das gemischte thailändische Rechtssystem: Ein Rückblick und Ausblick”, in: 150 Jahre deutsch-thailändische Begegnung, ed. by Volker Grabowsky. Segnitz: Zenos, 2014. 20 21

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water bowl and then sprinkle onto heads of all sailors. Then they will acquire the victory from the battle. In case of strong fever, take Ratchang into a water bowl for thirty-three times and then sprinkle it in order that the fever will be released. This incantation is called Phraya Chang Phüak (literally, ‘Lord of the White Elephant’). Please do not have doubts. This incantation is incomparable. When reciting the incantation, look for the auspicious time and prepare the incense, candles as well as popped rice and flowers. Worship the teachers and ancestors and then let begin. If (…)

The written text ends on page 152 of Mss while the illustrations of magic squares are illustrated on the pages 153–154.

SI 30 Title: Phra Atthakatha Vimanvatthu Vitthan พฺรอฏฺฐกถาวิมานวตฺถวุ ติ ถฺ าร Language: Pali Script: Khòm Writing Support: Palm-leaf Writing Substance: Blackened with soot and lamp-black after inscribed with a stylus Size: 54.5 cm x 5.1 cm; five lines per page; 12 bundles; 282 folios in total Date: Remarks: The manuscript consists of twelve phuk ผูก, or fascicles, each of which comprises 26–27 leaves. The fascicles are held together by two broad wooden boards (mai prakap). The palm leaves are lancinated at both sides as is usually the case in Siamese and Lao palm-leaf manuscripts. The cotton thread going through the left hole holds the manuscript together. The space surrounding the two holes is unusually wide, i.e., 3 cm in diameter for both holes. Therefore, only the first and last lines are written in linea continua. The second to fourth lines are interrupted in their middle sections which are left blank. Content: Pali Aṭṭhakathā Bundle I Folio Cover (1) r: พฺรอฏฺฐกถาวิมานวตฺถวุ ต ิ ถฺ าร ผูก ๑ ฯ ฯ (in the right corner of the folio, it is written: มหาสวน)

๒+๔



๖ 6

Transliteration: Phra Aṭṭhakathā Vimānavatthu Vitthāra bundle I 2 + 4 (meaning, Monday, the sixth day of the waxing moon, the fourth lunar month.) (in the right corner: Maha Suan, perhaps the name of the owner or scribe of the manuscript) Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Folio Cover (1)v:- Blank Folio ก (2)r: - Blank Folio ก (2)v

1: มหาการุณกิ ํ นาถํ เญยฺยสาครปารคุวํ นฺเท 2: นิปณ ุ ณ ฺ คมฺภริ ํ วิจติ รฺ นยเทสนํ วิชาจรณสมฺปนฺนํ เย3: น นิยนฺติ โลกโต วนฺเท ตมุตตฺ มํ ธมฺมํ สมฺมาสมฺพทุ ธฺ ปูช-ิ 4: ตํ สีลาทิ คุณสมฺปนฺโน ถิโต มคฺคผเลสุ โย ะ 5: วนฺเท อริยสงฺฆนฺตํ ปุญญ ฺ กฺเขตฺตํ อนุตตฺ รํ ฯ วนฺทนาชf°2v/1 mahākāruṇikaṃ nāthaṃ ñeyyasāgarapāraguṃ vande f°2v/2 nipuṇṇagambhiraṃ vicitranayadesanaṃ vijācaraṇasampannaṃ yef°2v/3 na niyanti lokato vande tamuttamaṃ dhammaṃ sammāsambuddhapūjif°2v/4 taṃ sīlādi guṇasampanno thito maggaphalesu yo ¦ f°2v/5 vande ariyasaṅghantaṃ puññakkhettaṃ anuttaraṃ | vandanāja-

Folio กา (3)r

1: นิตํ ปุญญ ฺ ํ อิติ ยํ รตนตฺตเย หตนฺตราโย สพฺพตฺถ หุ2: ตฺวาหนฺตสฺส เตชสา เทวตาหิ กตํ ปุญญ ฺ ํ ยํ ยํ ปุรมิ - ะ 3: ชาติสุ ตสฺส ตสฺส วิมานานิ- ผลสมฺปตฺตเิ ภทโต ะ 4: ปุจฉฺ าวเสน ยา ตาสํ วิสสฺ ชนวเสน จ ปวตฺตา เทส5: นากฺกมฺมผลปจฺจกฺขาการินิ ฯ วิมานวตฺถุ อิเจวํ ะ f°3r/1 nitaṃ puññaṃ iti yaṃ ratanattaye hatantarāyo sabbattha huf°3r/2 tvāhantassa tejasā devatāhi kataṃ puññaṃ yaṃ yaṃ purima- ¦ f°3r/3 jātisu tassa tassa vimānāni- phalasampattibhedato ¦ f°3r/4 pucchāvasena yā tāsaṃ vissajanavasena ca pavattā desaf°3r/5 nākkammaphalapaccakkhākārini | vimānavatthu icevaṃ ¦

Folio กา (3)v

1: นาเมน วสิโน ปุเร ยํ ขุทธฺ กนิกายสฺมึ สงฺคายึสุ มเหสโย ตสฺสา สมฺมาวลมฺพติ วฺ า โปราณฏฺฐ กถานยํ ตตฺถ ตตฺถ นิทานานิ วิภาเวนฺโต วิเสสโต สุวสิ ทุ ธฺ ํ ะ 2: อสงฺกณ ิ ณ ฺ นิปณ ุ นตฺถวินจิ ฉฺ ยํ มหาวิหารวาสินํ สมยํ อวิโลปยํ ยถาพลํ กริสสฺ ามิ ะ อตฺถสํวณฺณํ สุภํ สกฺกจฺจํ ภาสโต ตมฺเม ะ 3: นิสามยถ สาธโวติ ฯ ตตฺถ วิมานานีติ วิเสสวิมานานิ เทวตานํ กิฬานิวาสฏฺฐานานิ ฯ ตา นิ หิ ตาสํ สุจริตกมฺมานุภาว ะ 4: นิพพฺ ตฺตานิ เอกโยชนิกทฺทโิ ยชนิกา ะ ทิปมาณวิเสสยุตตฺ ตฺถาย นานารตนสมุชชฺ ลานิ วิจติ ฺ ตวณฺณสณฺฐานานิ โสภาติสยโย5: เคน วิเสสโต ปมาณนิยตุ ตฺ าย จ วิมานานีติ วุจจฺ ติ ฯ วิมานานิ วตฺถุ การณํ เอติสสฺ าติ วิมา Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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นวตฺถุ ฯ ปิถนฺเต โสวณฺณมยนฺติ อาทินยปฺปวตฺตา เทสนา f°3v/1 nāmena vasino pure yaṃ khuddhakanikāyasmiṃ saṅgāyiṃsu mahesayo tassā sammāvalambitvā porāṇaṭṭhakathānayaṃ tattha tattha nidānāni vibhāvento visesato suvisuddhaṃ ¦ f°3v/2 asaṅkiṇṇa nipuṇanatthavinicchayaṃ mahāvihāravāsinaṃ samayaṃ avilopayaṃ yathābalaṃ karissāmi atthasaṃvaṇṇaṃ subhaṃ sakkaccaṃ bhāsato tamme ¦ f°3v/3 nisāmayatha sādhavoti | tattha vimānānīti visesavimānāni devatānaṃ kiḷānivāsaṭṭhānāni | tāni hi tāsaṃ sucaritakammānubhāva ¦ f°3v/4 nibbattāni ekayojanikaddiyojanikā ¦ dipamāṇavisesayuttatthāya nānāratanasamujjalāni vicittavaṇṇasaṇṭhānāni sobhātisayayof°3v/5 gena visesato pamāṇaniyuttāya ca vimānānīti vuccati | vimānāni vatthu kāraṇaṃ etissāti vimānavatthu | pithante sovaṇṇamayanti ādinayappavattā desanā

Bundle XII Folio นะ (280)v

1: รมามีติ กิฬามิ โมทามิ ฯ เอเตนุปาเยนาติ โคปาลพฺราหฺมณกาเล สสาวกสํฆสฺส กสฺสปสฺส ภควโต ยถา อสทิสทานํ อทาสึ เอเตน ปาเยน ฯ 2: อิมํ นิรคฺคฬํ ยญฺญํ ยชิตวฺ า ติวธิ ํ วิสทุ ธฺ ะ นฺติ อานาวฏทฺวารตาย มุตตฺ จาคตาย จ นิรคฺคฬํ ตี สุปิ กาเลสุ ตีหิ ทฺวาเรหิ กรณการาปนานุ3: สฺสรณวิธตี ิ สมฺปนฺนตาย ติวธิ ํ ตตฺถ สํ ะ กิเลสาภาเวนว วิสทุ ธฺ ํ อปรมิตธนปริจจฺ าคภาเวน ะ มหายาคตาย ยญฺญํ ยชิตวฺ า มหาทา4: นํ ทตฺวาติ อตฺโถ ฯ ตํ ปน ทานํ จิวรกตํ ปิ เขตฺตวตฺถจุ ติ ตฺ านํ อุฬารตาย อนฺตรนฺตรา อนุ สฺสรเณน อตฺตโน ปากฏํ อาสนฺนปจฺจกฺขํ วิยํ อุปฏฺฐิ ะ 5: ตํ คเหตฺวา อาห อิมนฺติ ฯ เอวํ ปเทวปุตโฺ ต อตฺตนา กตฺตกมฺมํ เถรสฺส กเถตฺวา อิทานิ นิสสฺ ย สมฺปตฺตยิ า ปเรปิ ปติฏฐฺ เปตุกาโม ตถาคเต จ อุตตฺ มํ อตฺตโน ปf°280v/1 ramāmīti kiḷāmi modāmi | etenupāyenāti gopālabrāhmaṇakāle sasāvakasaṃghassa kassapassa bhagavato yathā asadisadānaṃ adāsiṃ etena pāyena | f°280v/2 imaṃ niraggaḷaṃ yaññaṃ yajitvā tividhaṃ visuddha ¦ nti ānāvaṭadvāratāya muttacāgatāya ca niraggaḷaṃ tīsupi kālesu tīhi dvārehi karaṇakārāpanānuf°280v/3 ssaraṇavidhīti sampannatāya tividhaṃ tattha saṃ ¦ kilesābhāvenava visuddhaṃ aparamitadhanapariccāgabhāvena ¦ mahāyāgatāya yaññaṃ yajitvā mahādāf°280v/4 naṃ datvā attho | taṃ pana dānaṃ civarakataṃ pi khettavatthucittānaṃ uḷāratāya antarantarā anussaraṇena attano pākaṭaṃ āsannapaccakkhaṃ viyaṃ Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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upaṭṭhif°280v/5 taṃ gahetvā āha imanti | evaṃ padevaputto attanā kattakammaṃ therassa kathetvā idāni nissayasampattiyā parepi patiṭṭhāpetukāmo tathāgate ca uttamaṃ attano pa-

IND 155 Title: Phra Mahāpaṭṭhānapakaraṇasamatā, fascicle 27 พฺรมหาปฏฺฐานปกรณสมตา ผูก ๒๗ Language: Thai – Pali Script: Khòm Writing Support: Palm-leaf Writing Substance: Black ink filled after inscribing Date: BE 2441 (AD 1898/99) Inventory-No.: 349 Content: Folio 1 cover

อุปปิฬกิ กมฺมกุสล ไบถา อุปปิฬกิ กมฺมอกุสล ไบโถ อุปจฺเฉทกกมฺม ไบธุ ฯ พฺรมหาปฏฺฐานปกรณสมตา ผูก ๒๗ ฯ พระพุทธศักราชล่วงได้ ๒๔๔๑ พรรษา ข้าพเจ้า จีนแดง แม่ยมิ้ แม่ลาว แม่ทวี มีศรัทธา สร้าง พระธรรมไว้ในพระสาศนา นิพานปัจโยโหตุ ๚ะ๛

Translation: Upapiḷika kamma kusala, leaf /thā/ Upapiḷika kamma akusala, leaf /tho/ Upacchedaka kamma, leaf /dhu/ Phra Mahāpaṭṭhāna-pakaraṇa-samatā, fascicle 21. In the year BE 2441 (AD 1898/99), we, Cin Daeng (The Chinese whose name is Daeng (literally ‘red’)), Mae Yim, Mae Lao, Mae Thawi, out of faith (Sanskrit: śraddhā) donated this manuscript. Nib[b]ānapac[c]ayo hotu. ๚ะ๛



Folio 1(verso): Blank Folios 2–4: Blank Folios 5-28: Content

Folio ท (5)r

1: เสฏฐีกจ็ �ำไฑ้จงึ่ เข้าไปสูบ้ าล้นนั้ เหตุตตฺ สิ าตญว่าเรือนนัน้ เปนทีอยฺ ู่ แล้วก็เข้าไปสูบ่ าล้ชนทัง หลายก็ปรฺ หารไห้ไฑ้เสบทุกขฺ เวทนาอันสาหัด 2: ของตน บันฑาฝูงชนทีร่ กั ษาปฺรตูบาล้ ะ ก็หา้ มปฺรามทักทานว่า ฑูกร ฯ เป็นทังนีก้ อ็ าไส ยอุปตฺถมฺภกกมฺม ฟ่ายอกุสลตามอูตหนุน คือมีความทุกขฺ ฯ 3: คนจณฺฑาลท่านจงอฺยา่ ไฑ้เข้าไป คนจณฺฑาลนัน้ ชนทังหฺลายห้ามสักเท่าไรย ฯ อฺยแู่ ล้วก็ ก็ไห้ปรฺ กอบไปฑ้วย คฺวามทุกขฺ นัน้ มีมาก ให้ไฑ้ควฺ าม ฯ Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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4: ก็รอ้ งตอบว่าเรือนของเร่าๆ จเข้าไปหาบุตฺรแลธิตา ที่นีเปนอฺยู่ ล�ำบากนั้นยี่งๆ ขึน้ ไป ฯ อุปตฺถมฺภกกมฺมนีเ้ ปนปจฺจยฺย คืออูดหฺนต 5: ของเรา ท่านอฺยา่ ไฑ้วา่ ฑังนีเ้ ลย จไฑ้สมควรหามฺมไี ฑ้ คนจณฺฑาลว่าฑังนัน้ อุปตฺถมฺภกกมฺ มนีเ้ ปนปจฺจยอูดหฺนนุ ทังฟายบุญแลฟ่ายบาบทัง้ หฺลาย ๒ ปฺรการ ฯ Translation: The rich man (seṭṭhī) remembered and entered that house because he could remember that the house was his home. Then he went into the house. All the people beat him and thus he suffered from a lot of bad luck and misfortune [there]. All the guardians of the gate then said: “O you, everything turns out depending on your supporting deeds. If bad deeds occur, they will bring suffering. O you outcast! (caṇḍāla) Do not enter the gate.” The outcast, no matter how the other people tried to stop him, having suffered too much, replied: “This is my house. So I will enter it to see my son and daughter. All of the suffering is the result of my supporting deeds. Please do not say like that. This is really improper.” The outcast also said that the supporting deeds are the cause of both merit and sin.

Folio ธะ (28) v

1: แห่งกุสลมีปรฺ มาณฑังนี้ อฺยา่ พึงปฺรมาทฑังนี้ พึงยังจิตรฺ ให้ปรฺ กอบฑ้วยยนฺฑวี า่ ฯ ผนนัน้ ตกอฺ ยูเ่ นืองๆ แล้วหม่อนัน้ ก็จะเตมฑ้วยหฺญาตสงเปฺลตผนอันนีแ้ ล มี ฯ 2: การกุสลอันอาตฺตมกฺท�ำนี้ยากทีบุคฺคลกฺท�ำไฑ้ บางทีบุคฺคลทีมีธฺรพฺพสมฺปตฺติมาก ฯ อุปฺ รมาฉนฺใฑ อันบุคคฺ ลมีไฑ้ปรฺ มาทในกองการกุสลแลฑ ฯ 3: สักเท่าไฑ ๆ ก็มอี าจฺจกฺท�ำไฑ้ เจากํ เจากํ อาจินํ คฺรนั้ คิฑฉ ฯ สาหกฺท�ำไป่เนืองๆ ก็จเตม ไปฑ้ว ยกองการกุสลผลบุญ ฯ ฯ 4: นัน้ แลวก็อสุ หสัง่ สมไปเนืองๆ ถึงน้อย ก็จมากเข้าทุกทีๆ ก็จเตม ฯ กุสลนัน้ ก็จอูตหฺนนุ ไห้ ไกฺลพ้ รฺ นิพพฺ านเข้าทุกทีๆ อีกปฺรการหฺนงึ่ ฯ 5: ก็จไปฑ้วยกุสลราสี เหนรานหม่ออันไส่วารีอนั บุตตฺ เปิกปากแล้วตัง้ ไว้ในทีผนลตก ฯ ปิณฑฺ ติ ชาติผมู้ ปี ญฺยาปฺรชี าเปนอันฑีฟายอกุสลเล่าก็อาอย่าไฑ้ปรฺ มาทเหฺมอน

Translation: These are the good deeds. Do not be careless. Let’s keep in mind with joy that the result always follows and then the pot would be filled with drops. That is the way it is. The good deeds that I have conducted are too difficult for the (ordinary) people to do. Using a metaphor, it could be a person with wealth and treasure. The person who is not careless with good deeds, in any way, still cannot conduct [such deeds]. You could keep on conducting good deeds and then attempt to collect (the merit and good deeds) from little, then gradually to much more until it will be fulfilled. The good deeds will be a means of support to getting closer and closer to Nibbāna. When seeing a pot of water which is unlit and left in the place where the fruits fall down, wise people should not be careless like … (The manuscript ends here.)

Folios 29–32: Blank pages.

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o. Nr. 1493 Title:Language: Thai, Pali Script: Thai, Khòm Writing Support: Palm-leaf Writing Substance: Blackened with soot and lamp-black after being inscribed with a stylus, except folio 1 which is written in black ink with a pen. Size: 59.3 cm x 5.6 cm; five lines per page Date:Remarks: The space surrounding the two holes is unusually wide, i.e., for the hole on the left side: diameter of 3 cm; for the hole on the right side: diameter of 2.7 cm. The distances of the text from the right and left margins are 5.2 and 5.5 cm, respectively. Content: The palm leaves seem to be in disorder. It is unclear whether they belong to the same or to different texts. Folio 1 The folio does not correspond to any other folios in this bundle in terms of content, writing material and scribe’s handwriting. The left part of the folio is damaged. The remaining text on the recto side seems to be a part of a colophon written in Thai script while the text on the verso side is part of a Buddhist text written in Thai language but Khòm script. The text in both is written directly with black ink instead of being inscribed in the traditional way. Half of the text on the verso side is damaged by black ink. Interestingly, the handwriting in Khòm script does not belong to the neat type of Khòm (or in Thai: Khòm Thai, Khòm Bancong ), which is also the traditional script for palm-leaf manuscripts in Central Thailand, but seems to be the cursive type (in Thai: Khòm Wat ). Folio 1 r

... มอนคนองละ ๕ สาย เปรียญ เจ้าปวตพิศธิธรม คงเกน ๑๙ รูปใช็ (?)...(the text is blurred

by black ink)… Translation:… five lines for each (monk ?). Parian, Cao Puat, Phitthitham have recruited nineteen monks (?) … Remark: The text is blurred by black ink. The right part of the folio is torn. Therefore, many parts of the text are damaged. The surviving text is not clear enough to determine whether the text is a colophon, a prescriptive part of the manuscript, or any other additional scribes’ note.

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Folio 1 v 1: (The text is blurred by black ink) (…) อนุโมทนาฑ้วยสาธุชนสปฺปรุ ส ุ ผูก้ อปไปฑ้ว

ยโสวนเจตนา เปนกามาพจรมหากุสล ญาณสมฺปยุตตฺ อสํขาริกไตฺรยฺ เหตุ มีปรฺ เภทอันผุกขึน้ ใน ปวรขนฺธสนฺฑานแห่งปจฺจยนามาธิบดี มีสามิทานเปนต้น เฑิมแต่อสุ สฺ าหให้ทานรกฺสาสีล ¦

(The manuscript is torn) 2: (The text is blurred by black ink) ... ว่ามีผลานิสงษ์มาก มีผลอฺยา่ งยีง่ ญาณสมฺปยุตฺ

ต อันปฺรกอบไปฑ้วยปฺรญากิจจฺ ะฯ ณาเหนผลแลปฺรโยชน์ ... กทํทานแลการจ�ำสีลภาวนา อัน ธมฺมเทสฺนานี้ กุสลอันนีแ้ ละจะคิฑกานอุปตั ถฺ มฺภก็ชซู งึ่ อาตฺมไปในภพน้อยและภพใหฺญ่ จะบัง เกีดใน ... (The manuscript is torn) ู้ นิ้ ... อันเปนบรมสุข ปฺรการหฺนงึ่ แก่ ข้อ 3: (The text is blurred by black ink) ... มิรส นีว่ า่ อสํขาริกนัน้ คือกุสลจิตรฺ ฑอนนี้ บังเกิดฑ้วยน�ำ้ จิตรฺ ของตนเอง หาผูอ้ นื่ ชักชวนไม่ บัง เกิดขึน้ ฑ้วยน�ำ้ จิตรฺ ของตนเองฑังนี้ นีแ่ ละมีผลานิสงฺษมาก มีผลานิสงฺษเปนอุกรฺ ฏิ ฐฺ ... (The manuscript is torn) ฺ านสมฺปตฺติ เปนเอกนฺตปรมสุขโฑยแท้ 4: (The text is blurred by black ink) ... นิพพ

นี่ และสาธุสปฺปรุ สุ ทัง้ ปวง พึงสนฺนธิ ฐฺ านเข้าใจเปนเอกนฺตแต่ละน้อยๆ ล�ำฑับนีอาตฺมจักไฑ้วสิ ชฺ ชนาใน ฯ ฯ แต่ภอเปนปฏิภารสนองสทฺธา ... (The manuscript is torn) 5: (the text is blurred by black ink) ... เปนใจคฺวามว่า ฯ เมือจะจบลง ฯ รับทานวิสชฺ ชนามานี้ พอเปนธมฺมสฺสวนานุตตฺ ริยานิสงฺษ ก็สมฺมตฺติ ว่า อฺยดุ ลงแต่เพียงนี้ ฯ 6: จบลงแต่เพียงนี้ เอวํ กฺมี ฑ้วยปฺรการฉะนี้

Translation fo1 v line 1: (The text is blurred by black ink) … rejoicing with meritorious men full of good intentions. (This) is Kāmāvacaramahākusala ñāṇasaṃpayutto asaṃkhārikātraiyahetu. There is its type created in Pavarakhandhasantāna of Paccayanāmādhipati, containing Sāmīdāna as the origin but having been industrious in donating and keeping the doctrine …(The manuscript is torn) 2: (The text is blurred by black ink) … having the great result of merit. Ñāṇasaṃpayutta is composed of Paññākicca, seeing the results and the benefit … conducting Dāna (‘donation’), Sīla (‘code of behavior’), and Bhāvanā (mind cultivating). The doctrine and this good deed will support me to go to the small world as well as the great one, to be born in … (manuscript is torn) 3: (The text is blurred by black ink) … endlessly … , which is the greatest happiness. One matter is: Asaṃkhārika is now the righteous mind, created by the mind of one’s self. There is no one who could persuade him. With this mind of one’s self, the result of merit will be so strong to reach the highest point of the advantage … (manuscript is torn) 4: (The text is blurred by black ink) … The treasure of Nibbāna is truly the only supreme happiness. All the righteous people should consider this and then gradually understand [it]. Here I have answered and explained sufficiently to respond to (?) [your] faith … (manuscript is torn) 5: (The text is blurred by black ink) … The message is as follows: When my Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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explanations are going to end. They will be obtained as a donation resulting in Dhammassavanānuttariyānisaṅṣa. Then it is agreed that here it ends. 6: [The text] ends here. Evaṃ, thus is all.

Folio 2–3 Buddhist text written in Pali language with Khòm script. Folio 2v is informed to be กะ folio according to the traditional ordering while folio 3v is the ขุ folio. The handwriting and the writing material of these two folios suggest the same origin although the other folios between them (supposedly the folios paginated ข, ขา, ขิ, ข)ี are absent. Folio 2r

1: เอถ ภนฺเต คจฺฉามาติ อาห ฯ อาวุโส ตีหิ ปาโป สมโณปิ ปาโป เย วตฺวํ สมณ-ภาเว ถตฺวาปิ สิ ลมคฺคํ ปุตตุํ นาสกฺขติ ิ หิ หุตวฺ า กินนฺ าม กลฺยาณํ กริสสฺ สิ ตาทิเสน ปาเปน มม 2: ยฏฺฐี กโกฏิคหณกิจจฺ ํ นตฺถตี ิ ฯ ภนฺเต อมนุเส หิ อุปทฺทโู ต มตฺโต ตมฺเห ต อนฺทา อปรินายกา กถํ อิธ วสิสสฺ ถาติ ฯ อถนํ เถโร อาวุโส มา ตฺวํ เอวํ จินตฺ ยิ อิเธ วเมนิ 3: ปชฺชติ วฺ า มรนฺตสฺสาปิ อปปรํ ปริวเฏนฺตสฺสาปิ ตโย สทฺทึ คมนํ นาม นตฺถตี ี วตฺวา อิมา คาถา อกาสิ ฯ หนฺทาหํ หตจกฺขสุ มฺ ึ กนฺตารทฺทานมา ตโต สยมาโน น คจฺฉามิ นตฺถิ พา 4: เล สหายตา หนนฺทาหํ หตจกฺขสุ มฺ ึ กนฺตารทฺทานมา ตโต มริสสฺ ามิโน คมิสสฺ ามิ นตฺถิ พาเล สหายตาติ ฯ ตํ สุตวฺ า อิจโรสํเว ตถาโต การิยํ วตเม สาหสิ กํ อนุ5: จฺฉวิกํ กมฺมํ กตนฺติ วตฺวา พาหา ปตฺตยฺหกณฺฑนฺโต วนสณฺฑํ ปกฺขนฺทติ สฺ า ตถา ปกฺกนฺโต อโหสิ ฯ อถ เถรสฺสามิ สิลเตเชน สฏฺฐโิ ยชนายามํ ปญฺญาสโย ชนวิตถฺ ารํ ปณฺณรสโยชนพหลํ ชยกุส-ุ f°2r/1 etha bhante gacchāmāti āha | āvuso tīhi pāpo samaṇopi pāpo ye vatvaṃ samaṇabhāve thatvāpi silamaggaṃ puttuṃ nāsakkhiti hi hutvā kinnāma kalyāṇaṃ karissasi tādisena pāpena mama f°2r/2 yaṭṭhī kakoṭigahaṇakiccaṃ natthīti | bhante amanuse hi upaddūto matto tamhe ta andā aparināyakā kathaṃ idha vasissathāti | athanaṃ thero āvuso mā tvaṃ evaṃ cintayi idhe vameni f°2r/3 pajjitvā marantassāpi apaparaṃ parivaṭentassāpi tayo saddiṃ gamanaṃ nāma natthītī vatvā imā gāthā akāsi | handāhaṃ hatacakkhusmiṃ kantāraddānamā tato sayamāno na gacchāmi natthi bāf°2r/4 le sahāyatā hanandāhaṃ hatacakkhusmiṃ kantāraddānamā tato marissāmino gamissāmi natthi bāle sahāyatāti | taṃ sutvā icarosaṃve tathāgato kāriyaṃ vatame sāhasi kaṃ anuf°2r/5 cchavikaṃ kammaṃ katanti vatvā bāhā pattayhakaṇḍanto vanasaṇḍaṃ pakkhanditsā tathā pakkanto ahosi | atha therassāmi silatejena saṭṭhiyojanāyāmaṃ paññāsayo janavitthāraṃ paṇṇarasayojanabahalaṃ jayakusu-

Folio 4–6 Buddhist text written in Pali and Thai languages with Khòm script. The Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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handwriting does not correspond to that of folios 2–3. Each folio, written only on the recto side, is divided into two columns on the left and right side. The text was written first in the left column. The text was inscribed with a stylus and then blackened with soot; however, the darkness of the handwriting is now already faded. Folio 4r left column 1: แล มโน ปฺรนาม ซึง่ พฺรบาทยุคลแหงสมฺเฑจฺจพฺรทสพลสมฺมาสมฺพท ุ ธฺ เจ้าผูร้ ุ้

เรือง

2: ต้วยปฺรทิบแก้ว กฺลาวแล้วคือพฺรสธมฺม พฺรองฺคเหนทีสต ุ โลกฺย คฺรพื รฺ นีพพฺ าน 3: แล้วก็มาบันเฺ ทาเสียชือ่ สัตวฺ โลกฺยทีโมห คฺรค ื อ้ อวิชาเปนอันมาก หากจมา 4: หุบหอไวไนสนฺฑารไห้ผองส�ำเรแผวแล้ว ก็มม ี หิทธฺ โิ กปฺรตับพฺรสิริ 5: โสภาคฺย นมสฺสการพฺรทฺทพ ี ทุ ทฺ เี จ้าแล้ว ปูเชตฺวา แล้วพฺรผูเ้ ปนเจ้าจึงกฺธ�ำสกฺการบูTranslation: And abasing the mind to the [print of] both feet of Lord Buddha, who is brilliantly endowed with the shining gem, the great Dhamma. He had seen the edge of the world, which is Nibbāna, and then released the creatures which still have too much confusion (moha) and ignorance (avijjā). After having worshiped Lord Buddha, pūjetvā, the Lord worshiped (…)

Folio 7 On the recto side, it is probably a colophon of a text written in a very small cursive Khòm script, but it is not clear which text the colophon belongs to—a Pali Grammar textbook on Samasa compound. The text, in Thai language, is written in Khòm script, but with a different hand in comparison to folios 1–6, 8–9. The verso side of the folio is blank. Folio 7r

1: ฯ (ชือ่ เอกภาวีทคิ อุ ภุ ยฺ ตปฺปลุ ศุ ลุตตฺ สมาสสวางฺค23) ฯ ชื่อเอกภาวีสมาหารทิคุอุภฺยตปฺปุรุศ ลุตฺตสมาสสวางฺก แล้วเปนปถมาปธานบท ฯลฯ ไช้ปลฺ งอฺยา่ งนีว้ า่ คนิตตฺ ปถสมาส อาจารนิย ให้ปลฺ งบทสมาสลงเปนนามฺม ฯ ไช้ยอ่ อฺยา่ งนี้ สม สยนฺเต ปถมาเส อาจารินให้ยอ่ บทสมาสเข้า ฯ

Translation: [This is by name Ekabhāvīdigu-ubhyatappuluśaluttasamāsasavāṅga] | This is by name Ekabhāvīsamāhāradigu-ubhyatappurusaluttasamāsasavāṅka, the first holding text. In this usage (of text), it is called Ganittapathasamāsa. The venerable master had changed the Samāsa word to be a (simple) noun. | Being used and abridged, the venerable master had explained the text of Samasa compounds |…

The scribe has written Tappuluśaluttasamāsasavāṅga , a variant spelling of the Pali Grammar textbook’s title, “Tappurusaluttasamāsasavāṅga” . 23

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Folio 8: Buddhist text written in Thai language with Khòm script. Only one and a half lines are written in the left column with faded black ink. The handwriting and its typography suggest that this folio shares the same origin with folios 4-6. Folio 8r left column

1: ปิณฑฺ กิ มหากฺฑี พฺรวิสาขากฺฑี กฺรกูลทํสองกฺฑนี ี ยอมไปสูทอี ปุ ฏฺฐากสมฺเฑจฺจพฺร2: ผูธรฺ งสฺวตฺติ Folio 9 A list of Khòm characters, written orderly from vowels to consonants, along with their ligatures. The set of script is repeated twice and written with an unprofessional hand. This folio could have been part of a handwriting practice for a traditional student of Khòm script. The inscribed text in this folio was never filled with ink. The verso side of the folio is blank. Folio 9r

1: ออาอิอีอุอูเอโอ กฺกขฺขคฺคฆฺฆงฺง จฺจฉฺฉชฺชฌฺฌญฺญ ฏฏฑฒฺฒณฺณ ตฺตถฺถทฺทธฺธนฺน ปฺปผพฺพภฺภมฺม ยฺยรฺรลฺลวฺวสฺสหฺหฬอฺอ 2: ออาอิอีอุอูเอโอ กฺกขฺขคฺคฆฺฆงฺง จฺจฉฺฉชฺชฌฺฌญฺญ ฏฏฑฒฺฒณฺณ ตฺตถฺถทฺทธฺธนฺน ปฺปผพฺพภฺภมฺม ยฺยรฺรลฺลวฺวสฺสหฺหฬอฺอ ฯ Transliteration line 1: aāiīuūeo kka khkha gga ghgha ṅṅa cca chcha jja jhjha ñña ṭa ṭa ḍa ḍhḍha ṅṅa tta ththa dda dhdha nna ppa pha bba bhbha mma yya rra lla vva ssa hha ḷa ɁɁa 2: aāiīuūeo kka khkha gga ghgha ṅṅa cca chcha jja jhjha ñña ṭa ṭa ḍa ḍhḍha ṅṅa tta ththa dda dhdha nna ppa pha bba bhbha mma yya rra lla vva ssa hha ḷa ɁɁa

Folios 10–18: Blank

Conclusion The collection of ten Siamese (Thai) manuscripts kept in the Nordsee Museum of the small provincial town of Husum might not be considered outstanding in terms of size. Nevertheless, this collection is unique for several reasons. First, the variety of texts carried in the manuscripts is remarkable; their genres range from religious texts to medical treatises, and even magical manuals. Second, some manuscripts in the Husum collection contain more than one text and thus could be classified as multiple-text manuscripts; for example, manuscripts Nos. SI 14b and SI 29. Third, the age of the manuscripts—all are more than 100 years old—is worth mentioning Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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as well; some of the dated manuscripts are from the late 18th (SI 26) and early 19th centuries (SI 29). Finally, the variety of materials (from palm-leaf to khòi paper), writing substances and layout are impressive. Therefore, this fine collection of manuscripts should not be overlooked by students of Thai manuscript culture, who should be encouraged to make more use of Southeast Asian manuscripts preserved in libraries and repositories in Western countries as an important resource. We hope that this article will serve as a reference to one of the least known and almost forgotten Thai manuscript collections, and introduce future researchers to this unique collection kept at a local museum in the far north of Germany.

Acknowledgements We are indebted to Dr. Anant Laulertvorakul for meticulously checking the Pali passages and providing valuable suggestions for improving the translation. We also wish to thank Prof. Dr. Barend Jan Terwiel for providing us with information about Dr. Christian Rasch and other German collectors of Siamese manuscripts of the preWorld War I period. Finally, we would like to thank the anonymous reader for his or her comments. All errors and shortcomings, however, remain our responsibility.

References Thai Fine Arts Department. 1971. Maha wetsandòn chadok samnuan 13 kan. [Vessantara Jātaka: The Version in 13 Chapters./มหาเวสสันดรชาดก ส�ำนวน ๑๓ กัณฑ์.] Bangkok: Chuan Phim. ______. 2011. Rachathirat. [King of Kings./ราชาธิราช.] Bangkok: Phetkarat. Ing-orn Supanvanit, Wiwatthanakan aksòn lae akkharawithi thai. [Development of Thai Scripts and Orthography./วิวัฒนาการอักษรและอักขรวิธีไทย.] Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University, 1984. Kannika Wimonkasem, Tamra rian aksòn boran: aksòn khòm thai aksòn tham lan na lae aksòn tham isan. [Textbook on Ancient Scripts: Khòm, Tham Lan na and Tham Isan./ต�ำราเรียนอักษรโบราณ: อักษรขอมไทย อักษรธรรมล้านนา และอักษรธรรมอีสาน.] Bangkok: Department of Oriental Languages, Faculty of Archaeology, Silpakorn University, 2009. Kannikar Sartraproog. 1998. Rachathirat samkok saihan: lokkathat chon chan nam thai. [Rajadhiraja Samkok and Saihan: World Views of the Thai Elites./ราชาธิราช Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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สามก๊ก และไซ่ฮนั่ : โลกทัศน์ชนชัน้ น�ำไทย.] Bangkok: The Thailand Research Fund and

the Foundation for the Promotion of Social Sciences and Humanities Textbooks Project. Kongkaew Wirapracak, Kan tham samut thai lae kan triam bai lan. [The Making of Thai Leporello Manuscript and the Preparation of Palm Leaves./การท�ำสมุดไทยและ การเตรียมใบลาน.] Bangkok: National Library of Thailand, Fine Arts Department, 2010. Thawat Punnothok, Aksòn thai boran laisüe thai lae wiwatthanakan aksòn khòng chonchat thai. [Ancient Thai Scripts, Lai Sü Thai and Evolution of the Scripts of Thai Ethnicities./อักษรไทยโบราณ ลายสือไทยและวิวัฒนาการอักษรของชนชาติไทย.] Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University Press, 2006. Winai Phongsriphien, ed. Photcananukrom kham kao nai phasa thai chabap chaloei sak. [Dictionary of Old Thai words, Private Edition./พจนานุกรมค�ำเก่าในภาษาไทย ฉบับชะเลยสัก.] Bangkok: Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn Anthropology Center, 2012. English and German

Davids, T. W. Rhys. and Stede, William, The Pali Text Society’s Pali-English Dictionary. London and Boston: The Pali Text Society. 1972. von Hesse-Wartegg, Ernst, Siam: das Reich des weissen Elefanten. Leipzig: J.J. Weber, 1899; reprint: Bangkok: White Lotus, 1986. Mildenberger, Hermann, “Der Millionär als Kunstsammler: Anmerkungen zum Austausch zwischen zwei Welten, in: Bilder aus der Neuen und der Alten Welt: Die Sammlung des Diamantenhändlers Ludwig Nissen, 1994, pp.15–24. Mildenberger, Hermann and Heise Karin, eds., Bilder aus der Neuen und der Alten Welt: Die Sammlung des Diamantenhändlers Ludwig Nissen, Husum: Schleswig-Holsteinisches Landesmuseum, Kloster Cismar, Nissen-Haus, 1994. Igunma, Jana. “Aksoon Khoom: Khmer Heritage in Thai and Lao Manuscript Cultures”. in: Tai Culture,Vol. 13 (2013), pp. 25–32. Kittisak Prokati, “Der Einfluss des deutschen Rechts auf das gemischte thailändische Rechtssystem: Ein Rückblick und Ausblick”, in: 150 Jahre deutsch-thailändische Begegnung, ed. by Volker Grabowsky. Segnitz: Zenos, 2014, pp. 270–91. Lengsfeld, Klaus. “Leben und Vermächtnis des nordfriesischen Auswanderers Ludwig Nissen”, in: Bilder aus der Neuen und der Alten Welt: Die Sammlung des Diamantenhändlers Ludwig Nissen. Husum: Schleswig-Holsteinisches Landesmuseum, Kloster Cismar, Nissen-Haus, 1994, pp.10–14. Wenk, Klaus. Thai-Handschriften (Verzeichnis der orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland, Bd. IX, 1). Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1963. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Likhit Likhitanon, “The Pali Literature of Thailand.” Ph.D. Thesis, Faculty of Arts, Magadh University, 1969. Siemers, Sven-Hinrich. Die mitteldeutsche Sammlung des Nordsee-MuseumNissenhaus in Husum, unpublished paper. Grabowsky, Volker. ed., 150 Jahre deutsch-thailändische Begegnung, Segnitz: Zenos, 2014. Grabowsky, Volker. “Manuscript Culture of the Tai”, in: Manuscript Cultures, No. 4. edited by Jörg B. Quenzer, Hamburg: Center for the Study of Manuscript Cultures, 2011. Tips, Walter E. J. ed., 1894 Directory for Bangkok and Siam. Bangkok: White Lotus, 1996.

(Opposite) Figure 1. Manuscript SI 13, page 1 Figure 2. Manuscript SI 14b (SI 25), pages 111–112. At the end of the Pathomsomphot part, there is the text written in Khòm script containing a Pali verse revering Lord Buddha and then stating the chapters’ names of Pathomsomphot. The text that follows in Thai seems to be the colophon. Figure 3. Manuscript SI 14b (SI 25), pages 113–114, the beginning of the Pathom Kò Ka part

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Figure 4. Manuscript SI 26 pages 4-5, the beginning of the text of Rachathirat Figure 5. Manuscript SI 27, pages 4–5, a medical treatise

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Figure 6. Manuscript SI 29 pages 6-7, a law code appearing in the first half of the multiple-text manuscript Figure 7. Manuscript SI 29, pages 105–106, magical manual, appearing in the second half of the manuscript

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Figure 10. Manuscript o. No. 1493, folio 6r, a bilingual Pali-Thai text written in the neat type of Khòm script, divided in two columns.

Figure 9. Manuscript o. No. 1493, folio 1v, a Pali text written in the cursive type of the Khòm script

Figure 8. Manuscript SI 30, pages 2–3

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The Early Syām and Rise of Mäng Mao: Western Mainland Southeast Asia in the “Tai Century” Ken Kirigaya

Abstract—During the “Tai Century” (c. 1250-1350), the early Syam, ancestors of the modern Shan, emerged as major challengers to Burmese supremacy in western mainland Southeast Asia. The tension reached a climax when the twin Burmese capitals, Pinya and Sagaing, fell to Mäng Mao, the most awe-inspiring kingdom in the upland Tai world. The emergence of the early Syam as a major military power and the subsequent rise of Mäng Mao to trans-regional paramountcy were closely associated with and paralleled by the “Mongol Century” in China. Besides the advanced military technology of the Mongols, the early Syam also derived great benefit from the economic boom on a pan-Eurasian scale under the Pax Mongolica, as exotic commodities of the subtropics and precious metals as well as gems were readily available in their homeland, through which the Southwest Silk Road, the principal trade artery connecting China to India, traversed.

Introduction During what the late David K. Wyatt termed a “Tai Century,”1 various Taispeaking peoples, spreading from Assam to Vietnam, through the northern rim of mainland Southeast Asia and the southwestern extremity of China, made their first appearance, and became a part of Southeast Asian history. Some of them ventured upon a downward movement from the upland valleys, encroaching on the major river plains to replace the classical “Indianized” states and to begin their own history. Wyatt, of course, made a general examination of these movements of the Tai-speakers who would become ancestors of the modern Siamese and Lao. In northwestern mainland Southeast Asia, the late G. H. Luce, a pioneer of early Burmese history based on epigraphic study, presented a detailed account of another Tai-speaking

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“A Tai Century” is the title of Chapter 3 of his Thailand: A Short History. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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group, the early Syam, forefathers of the modern Shan.2 Luce’s study, however, finishes its account around 1300 when the Mongol troops pulled out of Burma, whereby it leaves untold the early Syam of the 14th century, especially “the story of the rise of ‘Maw Shans’, who sacked the two capitals of Central Burma, Sagaing and Pinya, in 1364.”3 Other Burma scholars, namely Than Tun, Paul Bennett and Aye Chan, deal with 14th century Burma, but only cursorily discuss the early Syam and the Mao attacks on the twin capitals.4 This is partially because they mainly draw on Burmese sources, in which records on the early Syam are regretfully insufficient. As their history “sits astride both Chinese and Southeast Asian history,”5 archival research on the Chinese documents, which could prevent historians from “viewing a skewed fraction of the whole historical transcript,”6 is indispensable for the study of the early Syam. Therefore, some scholars recently have approached the Mao history from the Chinese side and offered fresh views. Liew Foon Ming and Sun Laichen, scholars of Sino-Southeast Asian relations, have extensively employed Chinese texts and attempted thorough examination of historical events directly involving Mäng Mao, or Luchuan in Chinese.7 Their works, however, basically concentrate on a series of battles between Mäng Mao and the Ming from the late 14th to the mid-15th centuries, with special focus on the famous “Three Expeditions against Luchuan” in the 1440s. In short, they discuss not the rise but the demise of Mäng Mao and the descendents of the early Syam. Jon Fernquest’s comprehensive study on the history of the “Tai frontier zone,” though principally covering the period 1382-1454, briefly reviews the early history of Mäng Mao.8 While the article, based on a broad and careful reading G. H. Luce, “The Early Syām in Burma’s History.” Cf. idem, “Note on the Peoples of Burma in the 12th-13th Century A.D,” pp. 68-9. 3 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 172. 4 Than Tun, “History of Burma: A.D. 1300–1400.” Paul J. Bennett, “The ‘Fall of Pagan’: Continuity and Change in 14th-century Burma.” Aye Chan, “Burma: Shan Domination in the Ava Period (c.1310–1555),” p. 37. More recently, in 2012, a comprehensive history of Burma was written by the Aung-Thwins, whose treatment of the Shan raids on the Irrawaddy Basin in the 1360s is more or less the same as the other works. Michael Aung-Thwin and Maitrii Aung-Thwin, A History of Myanmar Since Ancient Times: Traditions and Transformations, p. 110. Another recent, insightful essay (2011) by Michael Aung-Thwin on the history of dualistic relations between Ava and Pegu does not discuss the Shan incursions of the 1360s either. 5 Jon Fernquest, “Crucible of War: Burma and the Ming in the Tai Frontier Zone (1382-1454),” p. 73. 6 Ibid., p. 57. Victor Lieberman (2003: 122) argues, “those Tai populations most exposed to Pagan and Angkorian administrative and religious culture proved best able to profit from the crisis of the charter states.” He views the history of early Syam, whose inroads jeopardized Upper Burma in the 1360s, only through the eyes of the Burmese, entirely neglecting the Chinese influence upon them. 7 Liew Foon Ming, “The Luchuan–Pingmian Campaigns (1438–1449) in the Light of Official Chinese Historiography”; Sun Laichen, “Military Technology Transfers from Ming China and the Emergence of Northern Mainland Southeast Asia (c.1390-1527).” 8 Fernquest, “Crucible of War.” 2

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of Burmese and Chinese sources, reveals hitherto unknown issues concerning the origins and nature of the Mao polity, it does not furnish detailed explanation of sociopolitical and economic background of the sudden rise of Mäng Mao and its inroads into the Irrawaddy Basin.9 In any case, although the main concern of the works cited above is slightly off the theme here, the orientation set by these scholars towards setting the story of Mäng Mao’s war—not in the context of Burmese history but in a wider framework of Sino-Tai relations—is of importance and direct relevance to this study. As stated above, the Mao heartland lay on the periphery of Burma and China, so the story of the rise of Mäng Mao can only be adequately examined outside the confines of national history of Burma or China. Wyatt once pointed out, “The political transformation of continental Southeast Asia was paralleled by the rise to power of the Mongols in China and the extension of that power into Southeast Asia by diplomatic and military means.”10 Meanwhile the late George Coedès, in his classic magnum opus that contains a chapter titled “The Repercussions of the Mongol Conquest,” noted, “[Mongol] impact produced deep repercussions, the most important of which was the advent of Tai power in the Menam Basin and Burma.”11 The northwestern mainland, i.e. the heartland of the early Syam, was not outside this Mongol influence,12 as the region was directly connected to Yunnan, which, with the opening and broadening of trade networks and the huge development of mining industry under Mongol supervision, was prospering to an unprecedented degree at the time. The Mongol factor, through warfare, exchange of diplomatic and tributary missions, and commercial intercourse, undoubtedly stimulated petty Tai regimes dotted around the modern Sino-Burmese border region. And it was the emergence of these Tai powers and the ultimate ascendancy of Mäng Mao over them that transformed the political landscape of western mainland Southeast Asia in the 14th century.

Christian Daniels, “mak[ing] as much use as possible of Chinese sources,” has sought the “main driving force behind . . . polity building activities” of the Tai and discussed the great role played by the changes in material culture (Daniels 2000, 51-52). His instructive article, as its title clearly tells, deals with the formation of Tai polities in general, not that of Mäng Mao per se. He has also made (2012) another very important point concerning the way the Burmese script was adopted and modified by the Tai-Mao. The spread of the Burmese script into the Tai world is now dated much earlier, over several centuries, than has hitherto been suggested. 10 Wyatt, Thailand, p. 30. Recently, a group of scholars has emphasized the impact of the “China factor” on 15th century Southeast Asia. Geoff Wade and Sun Laichen, eds., Southeast Asia in the Fifteenth Century: The China Factor. 11 George Coedès, The Indianized States of Southeast Asia, p. 189. 12 As Yuan rule in China proper was short-lived, lasting less than a century, and the Mongol invasions of both mainland and insular Southeast Asia were mostly unsuccessful, the Mongol impact on the region as a whole was limited compared to that of the Ming. Sun Laichen, “Assessing the Ming Role in China’s Southern Expansion,” p. 51. Yet, at least its overland impact in several aspects on the upland Tai world was profound, and thus will be discussed in due course. 9

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Mäng Mao, centered on the upper Shweli region,13 fatally devastated Pinya and Sagaing, successors to Pagan, which commemorated the finale of the Tai century and initiated a new epoch in Burmese history. The fall of the twin capitals in Central Burma to the Tai invaders is of course well known as a major, epoch-making event in Burmese history.14 However, as seen above, Mäng Mao’s sack of the twin capitals, despite its lasting physical and psychological impact on the society of the Irrawaddy Basin and its implications for succeeding Burmese history, has never been a main subject of scholarly research. Hence we know little of the geopolitical background of Mäng Mao, what accounted for its rather rapid rise and who its rulers were. This article, by setting Mäng Mao’s past outside the confines of national history of Burma or China, and reinterpreting it within a larger context of Sino-Southeast Asian relations, examines this scholarly and unexplored, yet fairly crucial, subject in the history of the region. In other words, the issue it addresses basically and humbly corresponds to what the late G. H. Luce more than a half century ago called the “story of the rise of the ‘Maw Shans’,” which he certainly hoped to “present . . . in the pages of a future issue of this Journal [of the Siam Society].”15

A note on major sources Textual records on the history of the early Syam and Mäng Mao are scarce, and, if any, they are separately kept in different languages. As the Mao heartland lay between Burma and China, both Burmese and Chinese materials are employed in this article. The former includes standard Burmese chronicles, such as the UK, HMN, and YT.16 However, during the Pagan and Pinya/Sagaing periods, it is the Old Burmese inscriptions, not the chronicles compiled centuries later from various sources, which provide basic information on the early Syam. The Chinese literature consists of official dynastic records, especially the Yuan Shi (YS),17 and private works, such as the Baiyizhuan. Entries in the benji [Basic Annals] and the dili-zhi [Treatise on Geography] of the YS are a mine of information on the early Syam, and are unobtainable in the Burmese sources. The Baiyizhuan is a first-hand account of Mäng Mao written by Qian Guxun and Li Sicong, Chinese envoys sent to AvaFor a detailed account of where Mäng Mao was, see Fernquest, “Crucible of War,” pp. 32-33. For the romanization of Syam/Shan words, I basically, but not strictly, follow the suggestions of Shintani (2000). 14 Bennett remarks, “the destructive Shan inroads of the 1360s probably caused more physical damage than the ‘fall of Pagan’.” Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” p. 4. 15 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 172. 16 Abbreviations of major references (with lengthy titles) are shown at the end of this article. For a concise explanation of the Burmese sources, see Michael Aung-Thwin, Pagan: The Origins of Modern Burma, pp. 249-53, and Victor Lieberman, Burmese Administrative Cycles: Conquest and Anarchy, c. 1550-1760, pp. 294-300. 17 For a bibliographic account of the Yuan Shi, see LNCH, pp. 16-17. 13

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Burma and Mäng Mao in the late 14th century. As each official left his own respective monograph, there remain two versions of the Baiyizhuan, whose contents are slightly different from each other, yet equally valuable.18 Other than Burmese and Chinese records, local Tai chronicles are also used. Despite the fact that much of their dating, and even the historicity of numerous episodes, are doubtful, they are valuable as they furnish more detailed accounts of the Mao history than those of Burmese and Chinese sources. Yinyunruiwude Meng Guozhanbi Jianshi (YMGJ) is a Chinese translation of a chronicle of Mäng Mao, from the legendary founding of the kingdom up to the end of the reign of Säkhanpha, its supreme lord, during which Mäng Mao’s territory was most extensive. Neither the authorship nor the date of the YMGJ is known. Heimeng Gumeng: Mengmao Gudai Zhuwangshi (MGZ) is also a Chinese translation of the history of Mäng Mao and its surrounding area originally written in the Mao script by Zhaopaya Tanmatie in 1778. As he once served the Siyiguan,19 he must have kept many Chinese records, besides local Tai materials, at his disposal. MGZ’s account on the reign of Säkhanpha is somewhat different from that of the YMGJ. Meanwhile there is a Thai translation of the chronicle of Hsenwi, Phün Müang Sænwi (PMS), whose last entry is in the year 1801.20 The PMS shares the same biographic account of Säkhanpha with the YMGZ, thereby showing that the legend of Säkhanpha was also deeply entrenched in the Burmese Shan world.

The early Syām in Pagan’s epigraphy First, a word about the early Syam.21 In the following, the term generally denotes the ancestors of those Tai speaking peoples categorized as Ahom, Hkamti Shans, Burmese Shans and Chinese Shans by Lebar and others.22 The term Syam itself is, however, not confined to western mainland Southeast Asia. Thus, remote eastern relatives of the early Syam first appear in a Cham inscription of 1050 as slaves and around the middle of the 12th century in the bas-reliefs of Angkor Wat as mercenaries.23 The debut of the early Syam on the western mainland was in Qian’s work is annotated and collated by Jiang Yingliang in Baiyizhuan Jiaozhu (BZJ), while Li’s version is reproduced in Appendix I of the BZJ. 19 The Siyiguan [College of Translators for the Barbarians of the Four Quarters] was a Chinese “governmental office . . . that handled the translation of documents submitted to the emperor by foreign tribute missions.” Daniels, “Script without Buddhism,” p. 152. 20 Just to note, Tadahiko Shintani has also translated this chronicle (and a chronicle of Hsipaw) into Japanese, Taizoku ga Kataru Rekishi: Senwii Ohtooki, Unbon Siipo Ohtooki. 21 While 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,” I will use “early Syam,” a term coined by Luce, on whose study this article is based. 22 Frank LeBar, Gerald Hickey, and John Musgrave, Ethnic Groups of Mainland Southeast Asia, pp. 190-97. 23 George Coedès, The Indianized States of Southeast Asia, pp. 140, 190-1; Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 18

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1120, when a Pagan inscription recorded a Syam “slave” dedicated to the Buddhist church.24 As this first case shows, in the Pagan epigraphs “the word [Syam] is frequent in slaves-names . . . including a weaver, turner, drummer, and devotee.”25 A very notable exception is a sambyan Syam, who dedicated a slave to a religious foundation in 1241.26 Meanwhile intermarriage between Syam and Burmese seems to have been practiced, as we find some Syam uncles, sons, husbands and wives among Burmese families.27 As a result, early Syam were “very much mixed up with the Burmese.”28 Probably because of their voluntary downward migration or forced resettlement by Burmese forces, some Syam communities appeared in the lowlands of Central Burma. An inscription found in Wetlet, about twenty-five kilometers down the Mu canal from Shwebo, refers to Syam ywa, straightforwardly “Shan village,” clear evidence of a Syam settlement around the Irrawaddy Basin.29 Other Syam-related toponyms include Mun Syam, located by Luce somewhere in the northwest of Kyaukse, and Khanti, supposedly derived from a Tai word khamti, meaning “golden place,” which, or one of which, was undoubtedly near Sagu, about sixty kilometers down the Irrawaddy from Pagan.30 These epigraphic records only refer to the early Syam who were part of Burmese society; they do not provide us with enough information on political and social conditions of the Syam outside the Burmese sphere of influence, nor do they relate how and when the ancestors of the modern Shan came to settle in their homeland that surrounds the heartland of Burma. Therefore, we have to reconstruct the whereabouts of the early Syam with a clue provided by an inscription of 1196, in which Tagaung is listed

124; Wyatt, Thailand, pp. 13, 24-5. For a more recent, detailed, and comprehensive account on the origins of the Tai linguistic family “found along a thousand kilometer arc from Guanxi to Assam,” see Chris Baker, “From Yue to Tai.” 24 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 124; idem, “Note on the Peoples of Burma,” p. 68; Than Tun, “Social Life in Burma, A.D. 1044-1287,” p. 39. The inscription of 1120 is found at SMK, I, 336. 25 Luce, “Peoples of Burma,” p. 68. Here one must be very careful with the word “slave,” kyun in Burmese, as its connotation in the Pagan period must have been different from the one commonly used in the context of European history. See Michael Aung-Thwin, Myth and History in the Historiography of Early Burma, p. 150, and Than Tun, “Social Life,” p. 42. 26 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 124; SMK, II, 25. Sambyan, or sampyan in some cases, was a highranking official in the Pagan court. The famous Three Brothers, who dealt a final blow to the Pagan dynasty, retained the title before their ascension to the throne. In some inscriptions the eldest of the three, Athinhkaya, was described as sampyan kri, “great sampyan,” both Yazathinkyan and Thihathu, the second and the youngest of the trio, as sampyan. Luce, “Early Syām,” pp. 153-55, 158; SMK, III, 153, 194. 27 See, for example, SMK, II, 45, 91, 185, 201, and III, 128. 28 Than Tun, “Social Life,” p. 39. 29 SMK, III, 213. 30 Luce cast reasonable doubt on such an early Syam settlement in this too southerly location. Luce, “Peoples of Burma,” pp. 68-69. Khanti is mentioned more than twenty times in the SMK I, II, and III, the earliest dated to 1150. SMK, I, 25. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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as a nuinnam (naingngan), “conquered land” of King Narapatisithu.31 In the second third of the 11th century, Tagaung, or the place later to be so called, was probably already a major city of Pagan, along with Meiktila, Minbu, and Prome, where votive tablets made by Aniruddha, the de facto founder of the dynasty, who is supposed to have reigned from 1044 to 1077, were found.32 By the middle of the 12th century at the latest, the early Syam must have come down from the northeastern uplands to populate the riverine city and rename it Ta Göng, which, then, would become a “conquered land” of Narapatisithu in the late 12th century. However, as Burmese hold on the city was not firm enough, or it might have been taken by a nonBurman people, Pagan had to fight the “Tagaung War” in 1228, whereby Burmese authority over the city was finally established.33 Meanwhile, Burmese chronicles have no reference to the “Tagaung War,” nor do they mention even a single combat between the early Syam and a Pagan army. Not only the chronicles, but none of the five hundred Pagan inscriptions contained in the SMK refers to a military conflict between them. The paucity of military records is somewhat surprising given that Burma-Shan warfare was one of the main features throughout the history of the region until the very end of the Burmese monarchy in 1886. Conceivably, large-scale downward Syam thrusts from the surrounding hills into the extensive plains of the Irrawaddy, which would become increasingly active in the 14th century, had yet to begin. As the early Syam were predominantly confined to the upland interstices with their chiefs mutually independent from each other, they were not politically unified under one suzerain to mobilize their resources for a large military operation. They were only experienced in tribal feuds, but never in “interstate” warfare. Furthermore, as interior highlanders, they had very limited access to advanced military strategy and technology, and thus well recognized their fighters were no match for the well-armed and organized Pagan forces that could even penetrate into Yunnan, well beyond the Chinese frontier in the mid-1270s. However, these disadvantages, derived from geopolitical factors, altogether changed positively for the early Syam after the arrival of the Mongols in the region on their way to Pagan in the 1270s.

SMK, I, 66. Tagaung is the Burmese pronunciation of a Tai word, Ta Göng, literally, “Ferry of Drum.” Together with Tagaung, the city of Ngahsaunggyan (possibly another toponym of Tai origin), located around modern Bhamo, is described in the inscription as the northern boundary of Pagan. 32 Than Tun, “History of Burma 1000-1300,” pp. 7-8. 33 The war was fought against either Syam or Kadu, a linguistically distinct group still identifiable in the 20th century. G. H. Luce, “Geography of Burma under the Pagan Dynasty,” p. 49; idem, “Old Kyaukse and the Coming of the Burmans,” p. 76; idem, “Peoples of Burma,” p. 58; Than Tun, “Social Life,” p. 38. 31

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The early Syām in China’s historiography Ancestors of the various Tai-speaking groups are called Baiyi in the Chinese literature. The term, written “White Clothes,” first appears in the Xin Tangshu, in which the “Baiyi Death-devoted Army” constituted the main force in the Nanchao campaign to the Annam Protectorate located in the modern Hanoi area in the mid-9th century.34 Two texts dating to the Song dynasty, Zhufan Zhi and Lingwai Daida, also refer to the Baiyi who inhabited to the west of Annam, i.e., the upper Red and Black River region of northwestern Vietnam, southeastern Yunnan and northern Laos.35 Meanwhile, in southwestern Yunnan, according to the later Yuan account, in the time of the Dali Kingdom under the Duan Clan that had replaced Nanchao in the mid-10th century, the Baiyi and other barbarians eventually regained their former lands, and thereafter “slowly began to flourish.”36 This indicates that the ancestral group of the Syam had for centuries established their power base in the southwestern corner of Yunnan, the gateway to Upper Burma along the river valleys. They had come into contact, whether amiable or hostile, with the Kingdom of Pagan by the end of the 12th century at the latest, when King Narapatisithu of Pagan claimed his territory extended northward to Ngahsaunggyan, probably the first large town or stockade of Burma after a “long descent” from the Yunnan Plateau. Then came the Mongols. In 1253-54, by the order of his elder brother, Mongke Khan, the future Khubilai Khan led his troops across the eastern edge of the Tibetan Plateau, penetrated into the deep valleys of Yunnan and swept the city of Dali, successor to the old Nanchao Kingdom that had once maintained extensive influence over the northern uplands of mainland Southeast Asia.37 One of Khubilai’s generals, named Uriyangqatai, son of a trusted commander of Genghis Khan, continued the military campaign during the following years,38 as a result of which, for the first time in its history, Yunnan was administratively and economically integrated into China proper.39 Because the Mongol campaign in Yunnan was part of a larger military operation against the Southern Song, and thus moved from Dali eastward to modern Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 174n; XTS, p. 6282. Yang Bowen, Zhufan Zhi Jiaoshi, p. 1; Yang Wuquan, Lingwai Daida Jiaozhu, p. 55. This triangular area is thought to be the place of origin for the southern Tai group, the “ancestor of all the Tai peoples of Laos, Thailand, Burma, northeastern India, and southern Yunnan”. Wyatt, Thailand, p. 6. 36 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 128; YS, p. 1482. Their lands had been formerly conquered, and the people evacuated to resettle elsewhere, by the sixth king of Nanchao who reigned in the late 8th and early 9th century. 37 YS, pp. 58-60. 38 Luce, “Early Syām,” pp. 125-6; YS, pp. 2979-81. He further made his way along the Red River down into Vietnam, which he could subdue. 39 The Han and Tang dynasties occasionally maintained garrison stations along the main routes in Yunnan, but never exercised effective control over the entire region. 34 35

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Kunming and other stockades, the area to the west of Yongchang seems to have been relatively unaffected by the campaign. Therefore the Mongols had to wait another several years until various chiefs of the native peoples, including the Baiyi, came to accept Mongol suzerainty and a tributary relationship with the Khan. This led to the establishment in 1261 of Jinchidengchu Anfusi [Pacification Commission of Jinchi and Other Places] to secure administrative control over the “barbarians” occupying the southwestern corner of Yunnan.40 Despite these administrative and diplomatic measures taken by the Mongols, native insurgences started, and forced the central government to dispatch punitive forces in 1268 and again in 1270,41 and to divide the Anfusi into two in 1271, with jurisdiction over the East and West Routes respectively, to keep a closer watch over local affairs.42 As domains of the Baiyi and other native peoples began to take Mongol vassalage, the buffer zone between Burma and China became increasingly slender, which would eventually and inevitably lead to direct contact, largely military in nature, between them. In 1271, the year Khubilai’s dynasty was officially named Da Yuan, the first Mongol envoys visited the Pagan court to demand submission. But they failed to have an audience with King Narathihapate, only returning to the newly founded capital, Dadu, modern Beijing, with their Burmese counterparts.43 The next diplomatic mission with an “imperial letter threatening invasion” was dispatched two years later, but the Pagan monarch, instead of officially expressing declination to submit to the Khan, detained them.44 With no expectation to yield an immediate submission from Narathihapate, the Yunnan Xingsheng [Branch Secretariat of Yunnan] insisted on the pacification of Burma in 1275, which was dissuaded by Khubilai, who was then predominantly preoccupied with the final campaign against the Southern Song. The next year the Yunnan government embarked upon major administrative reform to secure control over the Sino-Burmese boundary area,45 promoting the Jinchi Anfusi to Xuanfusi, under which came the Liu Lu Zongguan Fu [Six Headquarters of Route Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 128; YS, p. 1482. The term Jingchi (lit. Gold Teeth) once referred to a group(s) belonging to the Mon-Khmer language family, who habitually covered their front teeth with gold. Eventually, it also came to mean the territory they occupied, and even to indiscriminately designate the native peoples, including Baiyi, living in the Sino-Burmese border region. 41 YS, p. 3012; Zhaobu Zonglu, f˚ 8. 42 YS, p. 1482. “Route [lu] was stably defined territory administered by a Route Commander [Zongguan], with place name pre-fix.” LNCH, p. 79n. 43 The following account is based on Luce, “Early Syām,” pp. 130-31 and YS, pp. 4655-56, unless otherwise noted. 44 Note that the Burmese chronicle has a seemingly related story that Narathihapate, despite strong opposition by his ministers, killed Mongol envoys. The year of the killing was 1281, not the early 1270s, though. UK, I, 298. 45 The dili zhi [Treatise on Geography] of the YS states that the reform took place in 1278 but an account of the benji [Basic Annals] of Khubilai, and other entries in the dili zhi suggest it was in 1276. YS, pp. 177, 1482-83. 40

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Commanders], mostly headed by native chiefs of Tai descent.46 Seeing bordering Tai domains, one by one, falling into the Mongol orbit, the Pagan court in 1277 dispatched myriad troops with armed elephants and horses from the plains of the Irrawaddy through the Syam lands up to the Yunnan Plateau, attacking Gan-e, presumably a Tai domain on the Daying River, and even trying to build stockades between Tengyue and Yongchang, major garrison towns in southwestern Yunnan. The Burmese forces were soon repulsed by the Mongols, who, according to a rather lengthy proud account in the YS, allowed few Pagan soldiers to find their way home alive. Now the Tai of the borderland were witnessing in their backyard two neighboring “empires in collision”, in which they would be inevitably and increasingly involved. In 1277-78, the Mongols took the offensive, marching through the Baiyi zone, and, after a “long descent” from the Plateau, encroached upon the Irrawaddy Valley. They reached as far south as Kaungzin and subdued 300 stockades, many of which were probably ruled by native Tai chiefs.47 This would be followed the next year by another expedition of Yunnan troops to further tighten their control over the Burma-China borderland, which resulted in summoning another 300 stockades to surrender and registering 120,200 households, as well as “the fixing of the taxes and land-rents and setting up of post-stages and garrison troops.”48 These two rather small campaigns were aimed only at becoming acquainted with the geopolitical configuration of the Irrawaddy Valley,49 and to settle the restless frontier conditions, preparatory to a far greater military operation against Pagan. In September 1283, a large army left the capital of Yunnan heading westward and early the following year the Yuan troops reached Tagaung, “Burma’s nest and hole,” which they took and later named Zhengmian Sheng, the Branch Secretariat of Conquering Burma.50 The territorial extension beyond the traditional boundary of Yunnan down to Tagaung on the Irrawaddy, and the subsequent conquest of the city of Pagan, led the Mongols to the encounter with domains of the early Syam within the border of modern Burma, which necessitated the setting up of new Route administration offices at Mubang, Mengguang and Yunyuan, to name only the important ones.51 These three Routes were of direct relevance to the affairs of Upper Burma, as they corresponded, respectively, to Hsenwi, Mogaung (Mäng Köng in Tai), and Mohnyin (Mäng Yang), major “Shan States” playing a significant role in Luce, “Early Syām,” pp. 128-29; YS, p. 1482. One of the six headquarters was Luchuan, the Mao heartland. 47 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 133; YS, p. 4657. 48 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 133; YS, p. 3067. 49 In early 1280 Yunnan officials, in requesting the pacification of Pagan, reported to Khubilai, “The geographic configuration of the Mian [Burma/Myanmar] kingdom has been captured in our eyes.” YS, p. 4657. 50 Luce, “Early Syām,” pp. 135-38; YS, p. 4658. 51 YS, pp. 1463, 1484; Zhaobu Zonglu, f˚ 4. 46

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the history of post-Pagan Burma.52 The heartland of Burma was now surrounded by a long and broad crescent of Syam domains. During the more than twenty-year Yuan-Pagan war, the Mongol Zhengmian forces, on their way to and from the Mian kingdom, made numerous marches through the Baiyi lands, where uncountable native people were levied to the expeditions.53 The service in the Mongol military brought the Baiyi into direct contact with the most advanced military technology and strategy the world had ever seen,54 and the participation in the Zhengmian campaign acquainted them with the geopolitical configuration of Upper Burma, into which they would make repeated incursions. In 1303, two years after the end of siege warfare at Myinzaing, which was the last Mongol expedition against Burma and a total failure, Zhengmian Province, with its large garrison of 14,000 men, was abolished.55 The complete withdrawal of the Mongols from Upper Burma in 1303 created a large power vacuum to be filled by the Baiyi, who, according to the very contemporary Chinese record, were “flourishing the most among the southwestern barbarians.”56 The early Syam no longer thought they were no match for the Burmese troops, who were now in a disadvantaged position without direct access to Yuan China.57 Western mainland Southeast Asia was about to experience the Tai century.

The early Syām and the Pinya-Sagaing dynasts After the disintegration of the kingdom of Pagan at the turn of the 14th century, the political center of Burma shifted to the Kyaukse region, the chief granary of the kingdom, then under control of the notorious Three Brothers.58 Then, in 1312, a new capital city, Pinya, was built by Thihathu, the youngest of the trio, who, while For greater Shan involvement in the politics of 15th century Burma, see Fernquest, “Crucible of War,” pp. 48-66. Later in the 1520s, the lord of Mohnyin destroyed Ava, where he installed his son on the throne. While Mohnyin and Mogaung would be “Burmanized” in the late 18th or early 19th centuries, Hsenwi maintained its ruling house, remaining as an influential Shan State until the end of the Burmese monarchy. 53 For example, one Baiyi regiment of 2000 men, probably engaged in a mission of transporting provisions, was additionally called into the battle at Myinzaing to help surround the southern side of the city in 1301. ZML, f˚ 7. 54 For a vivid description of the Mongolian use of gunpowder technology in the attack on Baghdad, the “heart of the Arab world,” in 1258, see Jack Weatherford, Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World, pp. 182-83. 55 Luce, “Early Syām,” pp. 163-64. 56 Written by Li Jing, a Chinese official assigned a governmental post in Yunnan c. 1300. Yunnan Zhilüe, p. 173. Whether the “barbarians” here include Mian is not clear. 57 They also lost a large profit from the Bay of Bengal trade, as the coastal cities became independent of Upper Burma. Lieberman, Strange Parallels, pp. 121-22. 58 The “Shan” ancestry of the trio has been questioned by Aung-Thwin, which in turn has been refuted by Aye Chan. For relevant discussions, see Aung-Thwin, Myth and History, chap. 5, “The Myth of the Three Shan Brothers,” and Aye Chan, “Shan Domination.” 52

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maintaining tributary relationship with the Yuan court,59 became the founder of the Pinya and Sagaing dynasties that would be together destroyed by the Syam from the north in the 1360s. The “fall” of the kingdom of Pagan, however, did not fundamentally alter the cultural and social structure of the Burmese world centered on the Irrawaddy Basin.60 The people of the Pinya-Sagaing period still donated lands and “slaves” to religious institutions, and left inscriptions to commemorate their votive donations, just as their parents and ancestors had done during the Pagan period. Thus, the Syam were still recorded in the inscriptions of Pinya-Sagaing as “slaves” dedicated to Buddhist churches,61 and the familiar Syam toponym, Khanti, was also mentioned in 1310 among donations to the religious sector as a site for constructing a reservoir.62 Although the disintegration of Pagan did not bring a fundamental, immediate change to the cultural and social sphere of the Burmese world, in which the Syam still maintained their former social roles, it did transform the geopolitical condition in the Irrawaddy Basin, which consequently invited Syam incursions into Central Burma. Thihathu thus had to repulse the troops of Onbaung and Maing-hkaing,63 the first explicit mention by the Old Burmese inscription of the toponym of Tai origins other than Khanti and Tagaung. It is also the first reference, either in epigraphy or chronicle, to the battle between the Burmese monarch and Syam powers, which would continue until the very end of the classical state of Burma in the 1880s. The battles must have occurred before 1324, as Thihathu, who fought the Syam forces, presumably reigned until that year,64 and must have taken place in or around Central Burma, as the inscription states that Thihathu “drove out” the Syam forces of Onbaung and Maing-hkaing, rather than going on an expedition against these domains. The battle, fought in the vicinity of the “heartland” of Burma, clearly The YS records tributary missions from Mian during the reign of Thihathu, in 1308, 1315, 1319, and 1321. Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 164; YS, 494, 590, 611. 60 Bennett concludes, “There is no clear evidence of any extensive or widespread damage to the economic structure of society following the Chinese invasions of 1277-1301.” Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” p. 4. 61 See, for example, SMK, III, 211, 307, 328. 62 SMK, III, 247. 63 SMK, III, 331. Onbaung is Ungpöng in Tai, modern Hsipaw (Sipö). Maing-hkaing (not to be confused with Maing-kaing located to the south of Hsipaw) should be either Mäng Khüng or Khäng in Tai, located in the vicinity of Wuntho to the west of the Irrawaddy. As the two domains lay wide apart, their alliance could not be a realistic option. Probably they marched down to the Irrawaddy Plains separately on different occasions. 64 While UK and HMN, though offering different lengths to Thihathu’s reign, 22 and 24 years respectively, agree with each other on the final year of the reign, 1322; the YT claims that Thihathu reigned for 16 years and was succeeded by his son, Uzana, in 1319. UK, I, 324; HMN, I, 377; YT, I, 374-76. According to Than Tun, who scrutinized Old Burmese inscriptions, Thihathu was succeeded by his son in 1324. Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 123. Aung-Thwin makes the reign yet longer, until 1332, which, however, must be a misprint for 1322. Aung-Thwin, Myth and History, p. 117. 59

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indicates the growing tendency of the highland Syam toward downward thrusts into the Irrawaddy Basin during the period of political fragmentation, including the split of the Burmese capital into Pinya and Sagaing, after the “fall” of Pagan.65 Whatever the nature of the battle, Thihathu could manage to drive out the Syam of Onbaung and Maing-hkaing, which might have resulted in one Onbaung queen at the court of either Pinya or Sagaing.66 Meanwhile, Chinese sources report military actions taken by another ambitious Syam domain, Hsenwi, stating that in 1319 Daibang, the lord of Hsenwi, made a raid (on the territory of Yuan China), and in 1325 another lord of Hsenwi, Bamiao, leading a Baiyi army, attacked an unidentified stockade called Bahuang.67 Also, in 1325 a force of Baiyi invaded Yunlong prefecture, to the northeast of Yongchang and northwest of Dali, far beyond the traditional boundary of the Baiyi territory in the southwestern corner of Yunnan.68 The Baiyi, or early Syam, became increasingly active militarily, expanding their boundary into the spheres of Burmese and Chinese influence. The raids by Onbaung and Maing-hkaing on the Irrawaddy Basin were only the beginning of a series of military struggles between the newly emerging and threatening Syam powers and the Pinya-Sagaing dynasties that, after the death of the founder, Thihathu, were weakened by internal and inter-dynastic conflicts. According to the Yuan account, in 1324 the prince of Mian, Wuzhena (Uzana of Pinya) and others were contending for power, and tribute was not sent as regulated, so the emperor ordered the Yunnan government to admonish them.69 Two years later, the “Mian kingdom was again in turmoil,” and Dalibiya (Tryaphya of Sagaing) asked for military intervention by the Mongols.70 The next year, Tryaphya requested the Yuan court to set up again a Branch Secretariat at Myinzaing, which was rejected.71 Although it is not exactly clear what was disturbing which Mian kingdom, Pinya or Besides the Syam from the north, Toungoo, Taungdwingyi and Yamethin from the south were posing a threat to Thihathu, who thus had to marry his only princess to the ruler of either Taungdwingyi or Yamethin. Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” p. 21; UK, I, 319-20; YT, I, 175. 66 SMK, IV, 6. According to the editorial board of the SMK, this inscription was inscribed around 1338. Whether this Onbaung queen was a token of vassalage by the Syam ruler is unknown. As she was not a concubine, but a queen, mibaya (mihpura) in Burmese, the marriage more likely represents partnership, if not friendship, between the Burmese monarch and the Syam lord. 67 YS, p. 592; Zhaobu Zonglu, ff˚ 7-8. 68 YS, p. 659. 69 YS, p. 651. Uzana succeeded his stepfather, Thihathu. The contenders may have included a certain person named Sithu and Kyawswa. The former, whose family background is totally unknown, succeeded Uzana in 1340; while Kyawswa, also known as the Lord of Five White Elephants and a stepbrother of Uzana, ascended the throne in 1344. 70 YS, p. 683. The UK states Tryaphya succeeded his stepbrother, the real son of Thihathu, the first ruler of Sagaing, in 1330, while the YT and HMN claim it was in 1322. UK, I, 334; YT, I, 190; HMN, I, 389. According to Than Tun, Tryaphya was crowned on 5 February 1327. Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 126; SMK, III, 308. The date might have been a founding day of the inscription. 71 YS, p. 683. 65

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Sagaing, and what forced Tryaphya to turn to Yuan China, the tension between the two cities, besides possible incursions from the south by Toungoo or Taungdwingyi, should be the main cause.72 In any case, the political equilibrium between the twin capitals seems to have been maintained, and a tribute mission to the Yuan court, from either Pinya or Sagaing, was recorded in 1332.73 Then, suddenly in 1338, in response to the request made by Uzana of Pinya, the Bangya Dengchu Xuanweisi Duyuanshuaifu Bing Zongguanfu [Chief Marshal Office of the Pacification Commission-cum-Route Command of Pinya and Other Places] was set up.74 Although internally and externally weakened,75 the Pinya-Sagaing dynasts could still manage to engage the Syam, as an epigraph mentions that in 1341 or 1342 the “Lord of the White Elephant” went up to the “Syam war” and returned.76 Then in 1356, a Burmese general appointed by King Thihapate of Sagaing (reigned 13521364) went to fight the “Battle of Chindwin.” He won the battle, whereby “Maw was besieged” and he was rewarded by the pleased king.77 This was the last recorded Burmese offensive against the Syam, who then took the upper hand. In 1359 the land of King Kyawswa of Pinya was destroyed by the Syam, the first successful Tai invasion of Central Burma ever recorded.78 The country was disturbed again in 1362 According to the chronicle account, the father of Tryaphya was not Thihathu, but a mere commoner, who had married Tryaphya’s mother, also of non-royal descent, before her marriage with Thihathu. UK, I, 318-19. Therefore Tryaphya had no princely blood, which must have undermined his royal legitimacy. 73 YS, p. 802. 74 YS, p. 846. What was behind Uzana’s rather sudden request is totally unclear, as no related chronicle or epigraphic accounts are available. 75 In Sagaing, Tryaphya was dethroned and imprisoned by his own son in the mid-1330s. A few years later Tryaphya somehow succeeded to have his son, the reigning monarch, killed, but he too was killed by a powerful minister, who then installed the son of the first ruler of Sagaing on the throne. UK, I, 334-35. 76 Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 129; SMK, IV, 27. According to the account of the inscription, this Lord was Kyawswa of Sagaing, although the chronicles do not mention that he owned a white elephant. While Than Tun says that the lord won the battle, the lithic record does not explicitly claim his victory. The chronicles are silent on this battle. 77 Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 129. Thihapate is known as Minpyauk in the chronicles. As the battle was called “Battle of Chindwin,” it must have taken place somewhere along or near the Chindwin River, in the upper part of which was located Kale, a major Syam domain. But the Burmese literature does not usually designate the Syam of Upper Chindwin “Maw (Mao),” the ethnonym restrictedly applied to the Tai of the Upper Shweli Valley, modern Sino-Burmese border region. One possibility is that the “Maw,” as a result of territorial expansion, ruled over the Upper Chindwin Valley at the time, which is fairly possible according to contemporary Chinese sources. This issue will be discussed in due course. 78 Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 124. Burmese chronicles do not refer to this event, and the SMK does not contain this inscription. Therefore it is not clear whether these Syam were of “Maw” or of other places. This Syam campaign must have devastated a large area of the Irrawaddy Basin, not only in the vicinity of Pinya, but also that of Sagaing, as the Syam army had to march through the region before they reached Pinya. 72

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by Syam inroads.79 Then, finally in 1364, both Pinya and Sagaing fell to the Tai Mao troops led by Thohkyibwa, younger brother of the Mao sovereign, “Lord of 900,000 Men,”80 who was, according to the chronicle account, solicited by Narathu, King of Pinya, for coming down to plunder the rival city, Sagaing.81 By devastating the two dynastic powers on equilibrium across the Irrawaddy, and by causing a great demographic change around the Irrawaddy Basin,82 the Syam incursions paved the way for the foundation of a new Burmese dynasty centered at Ava that, with its vicinity, would intermittently remain as the capital of successive Burmese kingdoms until 1886 when the British abolished the last classical state of Burma.

The rise of Mäng Mao under the Pax Mongolica While Burmese literature contains scarce information on the early history of Mäng Mao before its attack on the twin capitals, the Yuan Shi offers some references to the powerful Tai kingdom, calling it Luchuan, where a Zongguanfu [Route Command] was established in 1276.83 In 1330, a tuguan [aboriginal official] of Luchuan sent tribute to the Yuan court.84 Although it is not clear whether this tuguan was Säkhanpha,85 Mäng Mao at the time was only one of the local Baiyi regimes tributary to Yuan China. It had yet to lay claims to suzerainty over even its immediate neighbors, not to say the remote domains beyond the Salween and Irrawaddy, as the Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 124. Again, the chronicles do not mention this event. A fragmented inscription dated 1362 seems to refer to this invasion, though I am not sure; it says that Syam came when King (Thihathu III of Pinya?) on his way to Lower Burma stayed at Magway along the Irrawaddy. SMK, IV, 127. Than Tun, based on an inscription dated 1400, gives 1360 as the year when Thihathu III died. The chronicles present different regnal years and even different kings from those found in the epigraphy. 80 Known as Thohanbwa to the contemporary Burmese and Sikefa to the Chinese, the Mao lord was in Tai called Säkhanpha, who was the most awe-provoking and powerful king illustrated with many legends in the northwestern Tai world. One legend claims that he was once clawed by a tiger, an incarnation of the local spirit, on his back, thus obtaining the name, Säkhanpha, “Tiger-Clawed Lord.” 81 UK, I, 336; HMN, I, 392-393. Because Narathu broke his word to support the Mao forces upon their attack on Sagaing, he was carried away by the Tai, hence posthumously named Maw-paNarathu, “Narathu who was carried away by the Maw.” 82 An inscription of 1375 refers to refugees from the Irrawaddy Basin who “flocked into Toungoo consequent on the downfall of Sagaing and Pinya.” Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” p. 24. 83 YS, pp. 1482-83. Other Route Commands were also set up, mostly in the present-day Dehong prefecture. 84 YS, P. 750. Besides paying homage to the new Khan, enthroned the previous year, the envoys were perhaps also assigned the mission of furtively observing the Mongol court that had been divided by the powerful clans for several years. A few months later Hsenwi also sent an embassy with the same aim. 85 Local Tai chronicles, the PMS and YMGJ, state that he ascended the throne in 1311, whereas the MGZ says he did so in 1336. PMS, p. 191; YMGJ, p. 41; MGZ, p. 79. 79

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YS a few months later also records a separate tributary mission from the tuguan of Hsenwi called Hundou.86 In a decade, however, Mäng Mao rapidly rose to transregional paramountcy, against which a punitive Yunnan force was sent in 1342.87 The first Yuan expedition was most likely repulsed by Säkhanpha, as the YS four years later reports, “Sikefa is invading and plundering Routes and Districts [under Yunnan administration],” and the Yuan court consequently ordered the Yunnan authorities to pacify Luchuan.88 The second campaign was not very successful either, although the YS claims that the Prince of Yunnan came to present the spoils of war with Luchuan to the Khan in 1347.89 During the waning years of the dynasty, the imperial house had been severely weakened by the internal power struggles among the dominant clans supported by influential ministers since the 1320s, and thus was unable to mobilize a large, powerful military force into the southwestern periphery of the vast empire to subdue a rapidly rising native power. Besides the series of internal power struggles that had shaken the foundation of the throne, Yuan China was also suffering from widespread revolts that particularly devastated southern China where several rebel leaders established their own regimes. Sending a punitive expedition against the peripheral area far beyond the region under control of the rebels was thus no longer a realistic option for the Yuan court. Therefore, when a tributary mission led by Mangsan, son of Sikefa, arrived in 1355, about a decade before the final fall of the Mongol capital to the Chinese rebels, the Yuan court was only too glad to appoint Sikefa as Xuanweishi [Pacification Commissioner] of Pingmian.90 This was, of course, merely a nominal suzerain-vassal relationship between an emperor in the remote capital and a local sovereign with considerable regional authority. A near-contemporary Chinese account thus remarks, “Although Säkhanpha sent tribute and accepted the official calendar of the Yuan dynasty [a token of vassalage], he exceeded the imperial regulation of proper dress and utensils allowed for a vassal, which was beyond the control of the Yuan authorities. Thereafter began the powerful Baiyi [i.e. Mäng Mao].”91 Now totally freed from the “Tatar Yoke” in the east, Mäng Mao could concentrate its military resources on the southern campaign, and began to launch a series of incursions into Central Burma, eventually bringing the final blow to the twin capitals, Pinya and Sagaing, in 1364. Available evidence is uninformative on the administrative organization of YS, p. 755. As seen above, Hsenwi’s repeated raids on the territory of Yuan China from the late 1310s to the mid-1320s are recorded by the YS, while no report on Mäng Mao’s military action prior to the 1340s is available. 87 YS, p. 865. 88 Ibid., p. 875. 89 Ibid., p. 877. 90 Ibid., p. 2340. 91 BZJ, p. 146. 86

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the powerful Baiyi polity. Jon Fernquest has thus posed a relevant question, “Was Mong [Mäng] Mao a fully integrated state (c. 1340-1454) or was it only a loosely held together chieftainship with decentralized and diffuse power?” He has aptly concluded that “there was a level of political integration not yet that of a fully developed state,” and that the Mao polity was based on a “network of chieftainships that joined together occasionally for a common purpose in tenuous and changing confederations.”92 Christian Daniels remarks, Mäng Mao and other Tai polities “seemed to have been leagues or alliances of basin polities that were frequently prone to fission on the downfall of charismatic leaders.”93 In terms of the political structure, then, Mäng Mao was similar to Sukhothai under King Ramkhamhæng, its glorious Tai brethren, where all but the core of the kingdom remained separated into small müang units, each with its own ruler; and the relationships between local rulers and the king were defined by the relative power of the individuals concerned and confined to the duration of their lifetimes (Wyatt 2003: 45).94

Furthermore, the Mao polity can also be compared to another famous Tai brethren, Lan Na, which was a “conglomerate of city-states [müang/mäng], some of them quite independent at times, but usually accepting the authority of the powerful city-state Chiang Mai.”95 Two factors are thought to have particularly contributed to the huge and rapid expansion of Mäng Mao under Säkhanpha. The first is closely associated with its military strength, which could be partially ascribed to the leadership of Säkhanpha, the “Tiger-Clawed Lord.”96 As stated above, the charismatic nature of the leader was the key to building a network of chieftainships that constituted the vast confederation. Besides a commander’s personal military and spiritual prowess, the Mao army, as stated above, took great advantage of the Mongol-derived advanced military strategy and technology, especially firearms and cavalry, the two outstanding features of the Khan forces.97 Fernquest, “Crucible of War,” p. 66. This is Fernquest’s personal communication with Daniels in 2006, quoted in “Crucible of War,” p. 30. 94 Wyatt (2003, 51) also notes, “The vast confederation of Ramkhamhæng’s Sukhothai had disintegrated on his death.” 95 Hans Penth, “On the History of Chiang Rai,” p. 12. Grabowsky and Liew-Herres also argue (LNCH: 71) that, contrary to the widely accepted view, “Lan Na was never a firmly unified kingdom with Chiang Mai as her undisputed political center. Even during the fifteenth century when Lan Na was experiencing her ‘golden age’ it was not the case.” 96 According to the accounts of the local chronicles, he was not a legitimate successor, and, by implication, a usurper, who could make his way to the throne. 97 Horses were traditionally raised in Yunnan and exported to the Southern Song, and even to Vietnam and Champa, directly or via the Song. With the horses, argue some Chinese scholars, 92 93

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The second factor derived from the favorable economic and commercial conditions of Yunnan and the empire as a whole, from which Mäng Mao readily and enormously benefited. Khubilai Khan, unlike previous traditional Chinese dynasts, officially encouraged and generously supported trade by issuing paper currency, extending the Grand Canal connecting Southern China to his capital, constructing roads, and developing the postal relay system, ortoo or yam, in his newly acquired territory.98 In addition, the agents of trade could receive governmental loans at low interest through an official agency called the “General Administration for the Supervision of the Ortogh” established by Khubilai in 1268.99 The status of merchants, formerly a rank above robbers, acquired an unprecedented elevation, “second only to government officials,”100 and they therefore became the “group that benefited the most from Khubilai’s policies.”101 Furthermore, despite his pastoral-nomad origins, Khubilai was not an inlandor steppeland-looking cavalry headman, but an ocean-oriented mercantile leader. The Mongol Empire inherited from the Southern Song a naval power that had served as “mere guardians of the coastal and river districts.”102 Khubilai expanded and transformed the Song navy into a large oceangoing fleet, whereby Yuan China became the first oceanic power in the world.103 Besides the navy, Khubilai also took over command of a large group of seagoing Muslim merchants under the leadership of Pu Shougeng, who, also a Muslim, had previously served the Song government and, under the Mongol regime, continued to take charge of the famed port of Zayton, “one of the largest in the world, perhaps the very largest.”104 Therefore, although Anthony Reid remarks, “There was . . . a distinct lull in the seaborne trade for almost a century before 1370,”105 textual records and archaeological findings indicate quite the opposite. cavalry spread to eastern mainland Southeast Asia. Bin Yang, “Horses, Silver, and Cowries: Yunnan in Global Perspective,” p. 299. The art of cavalry with the Yunnanese horses must have spread in the opposite direction, eastward to neighboring Mäng Mao. Furthermore, the vicinity of Hsipaw and Hsenwi was a well-known horse-rearing area. Cf. Fernquest, “Crucible of War,” p. 60. 98 Morris Rossabi, “The Reign of Khubilai Khan,” pp. 449-450; Weatherford, Genghis Khan, Chapter 9. With the improved and expanded transport systems, Marco Polo could make an extensive journey within the empire. For his vivid description of the ortoo system, see his, The Travels of Marco Polo, pp. 125-26. 99 Rossabi, “Khubilai Khan,” p. 449. Ortogh comprised “merchant associations composed primarily of Muslims.” 100 Weatherford, Genghis Khan, p. 225. Meanwhile, the social rank of Confucian scholars was profoundly degraded “to the ninth level, just below prostitutes but above beggars.” 101 Rossabi, “Khubilai Khan,” p. 449. 102 Weatherford, Genghis Khan, p. 210. 103 Ibid., p. 214. 104 Muhammad Ibn Battuta, Ibn Battuta: Travels in Asia and Africa 1325-1354, p. 287. Marco Polo states, “for one spice ship that goes to Alexandria or elsewhere to pick up pepper for export to Christendom, Zaiton is visited by a hundred.” Marco Polo, The Travels, pp. 200-01. 105 Anthony Reid, Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce 1450-1680 Volume Two: Expansion and Crisis, pp. 10-12. Cf. Kenneth Hall, “Economic History of Early Southeast Asia,” p. 217. Reid Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Marco Polo and Ibn Battuta witnessed Chinese junks at the ports on the Malabar Coast,106 where the merchants purchased an enormous amount of pepper for Chinese markets. The volume of pepper trade was probably so excessive that the Yuan government imposed restrictions in 1296 on payment by Chinese silk at the ports of the Malabar Coast, such as Quilon and Pandarani.107 Polo and Ibn Battuta also testified that Chinese porcelain was exported from southern Chinese ports to India and the Middle East, i.e. “all over the world” before the discovery of the New World.108 Their testimony is attested by the ample findings of Chinese ceramic shards dated to the 13th and 14th centuries along the coasts of southern India and Egypt.109 Thus, “the [Chinese] ceramics form quite an impressive evidence for the Chinese trade of the 13th and 14th centuries, i.e. during the time of the Southern Song and Yuan dynasties.”110 The trade across the Ocean between China and the Middle East via India was very active, definitely more active than ever, during the 13th and 14th centuries, i.e., the Mongol Century in China.111 With two major commercial terminals, Dadu (modern Beijing) for the Silk Road of Central Asia and Zayton with other southern China ports for the seaborne route, or the “maritime Silk Road,” that ultimately extended to the Middle East and beyond, the Mongol Empire, now becoming the “Mongol Corporation,” created a pan-Eurasian trade link, or what is sometimes termed the “Thirteenth-Century World continues to say, “The relative decline in trade is reflected in the paucity of Chinese porcelain remains for this period in Southeast Asia, especially by contrast with the great abundance after 1400.” 106 Polo, The Travels, pp. 245-48; Ibn Battuta, Travels in Asia and Africa, pp. 234-38. 107 YS, p. 2402-3. Pandarani is variously spelled. See, Henry Yule and A. C. Burnell, HobsonJobson: the Anglo-Indian Dictionary, pp. 666-67. 108 Polo, The Travels, p. 201; Ibn Battuta, Travels in Asia and Africa, p. 289. 109 Y. Subbarayalu, “Chinese Ceramics of Tamilnadu and Kerala Coasts,” p. 113. Regarding the discoveries in Egypt, Axelle Rougeulle relates, “A huge amount of contemporary Chinese imports, mostly Longquan celadon, has been brought to light at Fustat, and some similar pieces are, for the first time, recorded on the Red Sea Egyptian coast”. Axelle Rougeulle, “Medieval Trade Networks in the Western Indian Ocean (8-14th Centuries): Some Reflections from the Distribution Pattern of Chinese Imports in the Islamic World,” p. 171. 110 Subbarayalu, “Chinese Ceramics,” p. 113 111 Hermann Kulke, based on the “evidence for the presence of a large Indian merchant community in China, and of Chinese traders in southern India” in the 13th century, and the “findings of Chinese ceramics [in port-cities of southern India], the greatest amount of which belong to the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,” concludes, “these centuries [thirteenth and fourteenth] were a period of intensive and mostly direct trade relations between southern India and China.” Hermann Kulke, “Rivalry and Competition in the Bay of Bengal in the Eleventh Century and Its Bearing on Indian Ocean Studies,” pp. 30-31. K. N. Chaudhuri, in his influential essay on the trade and civilization of the Indian Ocean, asserts, “By all accounts the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries were unusually prosperous in the history of the Indian Ocean trade, in spite of the Mongol advance and the appearance of the plague.” K. N. Chaudhuri, Trade and Civilization in the Indian Ocean: An Economic History from the Rise of Islam to 1750, p. 63. Actually, it is not “in spite of,” but “because of” the Mongol advance. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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System.”112 In 1340, a Florentine merchant remarked that trade routes from Italy to China, which proceeded through the territories of various Mongolian regimes, “were ‘perfectly safe, whether by day or by night’.”113 It was the heyday of the era of the Mongol Peace, and it was when Mäng Mao became a hegemon of southwestern Yunnan, on the periphery of the Mongol Empire. Peripheral to the traditional Chinese world of the Central Plains, Yunnan had long been closely connected with Tibet, Southeast Asia, and South Asia by a route network called the Southwest Silk Road.114 This third Silk Road, the main section of which traversed Yunnan and Upper Burma, linked the other two, overland and maritime ones. Khubilai, from his own experience in the military campaign to Yunnan in the early 1250s, deeply recognized the strategic importance and commercial potential of the region, and thus appointed in 1274 a trusted veteran administrator as Grand Councilor of the Branch Secretariat of Yunnan.115 The old official, Saidianchi Zhansiding (Sa’id-I Egell Sams al-Din), a Muslim, utilized his religious connections to promote a large Muslim migration into Yunnan, whereby trade networks were newly opened, widely developed, and extensively linked with other zones of commerce.116 Muslim traders were the main agents on the Inland, Maritime, and Southwest Silk Roads. Not only as the crossroads of transregional trade routes, but also as a supplier of valuable commodities, such as horses and precious metals, did Yunnan play a significant role in the overland interactions.117 As stated above, horses had long been locally reared and traditionally exported to the Southern Song where they were Janet Abu-Lughod, Before European Hegemony: The World System A.D. 1250-1350. Weatherford, Genghis Khan, p. 224. 114 For a general description of the Southwest Silk Road, see Bin Yang, “Yunnan in Global Perspective,” pp. 285-92. See also Janice Stargardt, “Burma’s Economic and Diplomatic Relations with India and China from Early Medieval Sources.” 115 YS, p. 3064. Upon the appointment, Khubilai personally told the appointee, “I myself have once proceeded to Yunnan . . . I need to select a moderate and devoted official who could benevolently preside over the governance, and no one is more suitable for the post than you.” 116 No statistics for the Muslim population in Yunnan during the Yuan period are available, but Muslim migration caused a large demographic change in Yunnan. Marco Polo certainly witnessed Muslims on his visit to the southwestern corner of the empire. Polo, The Travels, p. 148. An Arab account dated to the early 14th century states, “‘the great city of Yachi [modern Kunming]’ in Yunnan was exclusively inhabited by Muslims.” Andrew D. W. Forbes, “The Role of Hui Muslims in the Traditional Caravan Trade between Yunnan and Thailand,” p. 292. Zheng He, the celebrated eunuch admiral who led seven grand naval expeditions to the Indian Ocean in the early Ming dynasty, was a descendent of those Muslim immigrants. 117 The following passages on trade in horses, silver, and cowry between Yunnan and Bengal basically rely on the relevant account of Bin Yang, “Yunnan in Global Perspective,” pp. 294-312, which is in turn partially based on Ranabir Chakravarti, “Early Medieval Bengal and the Trade in Horses: A Note,” John Deyell, “The China Connection: Problems of Silver Supply in Medieval Bengal”, and Hans Ulrich Vogel, “Cowry Trade and Its Role in the Economy of Yunnan: From the Ninth to the Mid-Seventeenth Century.” 112 113

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desperately needed to provide the advantage of superior cavalry in the centurylong warfare with its northern counterparts.118 However, as a result of the Mongol pacification of Yunnan in the 1250s, the eastbound exportation of local horses stopped altogether. Because the Mongols already maintained many sources of high quality warhorses in Inner Asia, they could not be new customers. Eventually Yunnan horses were exported in large quantities westward to Bengal, where they could not be bred, and where they were highly valued for military use.119 Meanwhile, Yunnan was also rich in metal resources and mining operations, far larger than those in former times, began under Mongol supervision.120 According to official statistics of 1328, the gold mining tax in Yunnan was the greatest in the empire, and that on silver nearly constituted half of the national total. Furthermore, the province maintained the only taxable copper mine of the empire and also produced a fair amount of iron.121 Among these precious metals, silver also found a market in Bengal where it was sought by the sultanate for coinage. According to analysis by John Deyell, the period 1218-1290 in Bengal witnessed “exhaustion of original stock and sporadic importations of bullion on a limited scale not sufficient to maintain the currency in circulation.” Then, the period 1291-1357 was blessed with a “very large net inflow of bullion on a regular basis and on a greater scale than in the previous century.”122 The scarcity of bullion stock before 1290 and large increase in silver inflow into Bengal after 1291 correspond to Polo’s observation that no silver mine was worked in Yunnan in the 1280s. More importantly, the period 1291-1357 exactly coincided with the emergence of various Syam powers in the Sino-Burma borderlands and the ultimate ascendancy of Mäng Mao over them. In exchange for the horses and silver, Yunnan imported from the coastal sultanate a large quantity of cowry for local currency. Marco Polo observed in the 1280s that the Yunnanese people used cowry as money, and stated that the seashells came from India.123 Actually it was not from India but from Bengal where cowry, as recorded by Wang Dayuan, the 14th century Chinese traveler, were used side by side with silver coins called tanka, minted with the Yunnanese silver, for daily The Southern Song text, Lingwai Daida, refers to a governmental office for purchasing horses from Yunnan. Yang Wuquan, Lingwai Daida Jiaozhu, pp. 186-91. 119 Chakravarti, “Early Medieval Bengal,” pp. 202-03. Marco Polo noted that considerable numbers of horses were exported from Dali to India (not Bengal). Polo, The Travels, p. 150. Yunnan Gonglu Yunshushi, p. 38, without specifying the textual source (but probably based on Polo’s account), also states, “Good horses of Yunnan were exported to India during the Yuan.” The exportation of horses to Bengal might have started before the Yuan, but the quantity must have greatly increased after the shutdown of the Song market. 120 A local saying goes, “From [the reign of] Khubilai began the gold mining industry” in Yunnan. Yunnan Gonglu Yunshushi, p. 39. Curiously, Marco Polo, who is said to have visited Yunnan in the 1280s, observed that there was no silver mine in the region. Polo, The Travels, p. 157. 121 YS, pp. 2383-84. 122 Deyell, “China Connection,” p. 213. 123 Polo, The Travels, pp. 148, 149, 152. 118

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transactions between the natives.124 Since the Bengali coast did not yield cowries, the seashells were shipped from the Maldives in exchange for Bengali rice, as witnessed by Wang Dayuan and Ibn Battuta in the first half of the 14th century.125 In Yunnan, cowry money was used not only for small purchases at local markets, but also for payment of taxes and government salaries, and purchase of land and houses, thus fulfilling the “functions of modern abstract money.”126 Among several trade routes, both seaborne and overland, that could connect Yunnan to Bengal, the principal artery was no doubt the Southwest Silk Road.127 After a large descent from the Yunnan Plateau, the path entered Upper Burma, where it divided into two main courses, waterway and overland. The water route in turn largely consisted of two branches: the first one going down the Irrawaddy to either Pagan or Prome, whence overland paths proceeded to either Arakan or Chittagong, whence extended the waterways to Bengal;128 the third branch also sailing down the Irrawaddy all the way to the ports on the Burmese littoral, where ships bound for India were available. The alternate land route consisted of two branches: one extending northwestward from Upper Burma via Mogaung and other Tai enclaves through the Hukong Valley to Assam,129 and going down the navigable Brahmaputra River to the Ganges Delta; the other route from Upper Burma leading westward to the upper Chindwin River via Kale, ascending the Manipur Hills, following the path to Sylhet then down to Bengal. Available documents do not furnish much information on which route, seaborne or overland, was more attractive to the merchants who transported bullion and horses from Yunnan to Bengal. Given that in the Medieval Age ships were neither large, well-built, nor heavily armed, with poor navigational systems, oceangoing travel was always with the risk of wreck and piracy. Meanwhile high-value/lowbulk bullion and horses were suitable for overland caravan transport. Therefore, “whenever conditions of peace enforced by armed authority prevailed,” remarks Deyell, “transit by land was competitive with the water mode.”130 Burma, after the fall of Pagan, was no longer a unified political entity, and the Irrawaddy route was thus divided into several sections under control of provincial powers and a Mon kingdom in the south. Meanwhile the overland trail from southwestern Yunnan via Su Jiqing, Daoyizhilue Jiaoshi, p. 330. The use of cowry money in Bengal was still observable in the early 16th century. Tomé Pires, The Suma Oriental of Tomé Pires, pp. 93-94. 125 Su Jiqing, Daoyizhilue Jiaoshi, p. 264; Ibn Battuta, Travels in Asia and Africa, p. 243. 126 Vogel, “Cowry Trade, pt. II,” pp. 313-19; Bin Yang, “Yunnan in Global Perspective,” p. 308. In late 17th or early 18th century Lan Na, the monthly salary of Burmese officials was also partially paid with cowry. Sarassawadee Ongsakul, History of Lan Na, p. 124. 127 The following is based on Deyell, “China Connection,” pp. 219-20, and Map One, p. 225. 128 Nicolo Conti, who visited Ava in the early 1440s, seems to have taken this trail. Nicolo Conti, “The Travels of Nicolo Conti,” p. 11. 129 Cf. E.R. Leach, Political Systems of Highland Burma, Map 4 on p. 33 and p. 241. 130 Deyell, “China Connection,” pp. 218-19. 124

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northern Burma to Assam, the longest and otherwise most dangerous part of the trade route between Yunnan and Bengal, was secure under a single authority, Mäng Mao during Säkhanpha’s reign. According to the contemporary Chinese record, Mäng Mao’s territory in the 1390s was bounded in the east by Jingtong;131 in the west by Xitiangula (Manipur or Assam);132 in the south by Lan Na; in the north by Tibet; in the southeast by Chiang Rung (of the Sipsong Panna); in the southwest by Burma; in the northeast by Ailao (Yongchang); in the northwest by Xifan and Huige (Northwestern Yunnan).133 The extent of Mäng Mao’s realm under Säkhanpha was probably more or less the same, or could have been even larger, as Emperor Hongwu, the founder of the Ming dynasty, in 1383 remarked, “I have recently been informed that the territory of Sikefa included 36 Routes. . . . It has been already forty years since those areas were occupied by the barbarians.”134 The imperial remark probably was an exaggeration, as there were only 37 Routes established in Yunnan under Yuan administration.135 Although it seemed impossible for Säkhanpha to pacify almost all the Routes in Yunnan, the Mao territory was certainly extensive with many Routes in western Yunnan under its sway. Within this vast realm readily available were valuable trade items, such as exotic forest and animal products as well as precious stones and metals, including amber, jade, gold, and silver, destined for both Chinese and Bengali markets.136 Under the territorial expansion of Mäng Mao lay commercial objectives. Mäng Mao’s repeated eastward incursions into Yunnan during the 1340s were aimed at taking control over local silver mines and other sources of luxury commodities and trade routes branching off from the Southwest Silk Road.137 Likewise, its longdistance westward expedition across the Irrawaddy and Chindwin Rivers to Kale Jingtong is located to the east of the Mekong, about 120 km from Dali to the southeast. Jiang Yingliang, at BZJ, p. 37, identifies Xitiangula as Pegu, based on the fact that the Ming established a Xuanweisi [Pacification Commission] at Dagula (Great Gula; Pegu) in the early 15th century. However, Pegu lay to the extreme south of Mäng Mao, whereas Xitiangula (Indian Gula), not Dagula, was located to its west. Qian Guxun, Ming envoy to Ava and Mäng Mao, who was the author of the Baiyizhuan, actually visited the Burmese capital, and thus left a geographically correct record, “To the south of the Irrawaddy lie three states, Toungoo, Talaing [i.e. Mon], and Burma [i.e. Ava], and to the west of Burma is Xitian [i.e. India].” BZJ, pp. 125-6. 133 Another edition of the Baiyizhuan written by Li Sicong, who was the colleague of Qian Guxun, presents a slightly different description of Mäng Mao’s realm. It was bounded in the east by Jingtong; in the southeast by Chiang Rung; in the south by Lan Na; in the southwest by Burma; in the west by Kale; in the northwest by Xitiangula; in the north by Xifan; in the northeast by Yongchang. Li Sicong, Baiyizhuan, p. 146. Note that Xitiangula is located to the northwest of Mäng Mao, and Kale, a major Tai domain in the upper Chindwin River, is added to the list. 134 Ming Shilu, pp. 2414-15. 135 YS, p. 1457. 136 BZJ, pp. 118-22. 137 Mäng Mao might have retained control over the so-called Dian-Zang Cha-Ma Gudao [Ancient Road of Tea and Horses between Yunnan and Tibet], by which tea from Sipsong Panna and horses from Tibet were traded. 131 132

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at the foot of the Manipur Hills and to Assam through icy terrain was designed to secure the “Passage to India” via northern Burma.138 Therefore, while dominating the main section of the Southwest Silk Road, Mäng Mao under Säkhanpha also functioned as an “export distribution center.”139 The trade items and routes told, its agents shall be now discussed. Deyell refers to the Tai as “agent of transmission” of silver within the Mao domain, beyond which the precious metal found its way to Bengal through many intermediaries.140 Yet we do not have to exclude the possibility that the newly settled Muslim migrants in Yunnan conducted the transport. Actually, as they developed a wide commercial network of overland caravan trade that connected Yunnan with Tibet, Assam, and northern continental Southeast Asia,141 it is more likely that the Yunnanese Muslims were the agent of transmission. After the safe passage through the Mao domain, extending from southwestern Yunnan via northern Burma to Assam, the Muslim caravan entered the Bengali frontier, where they exchanged the trade articles with their Bengali Muslim counterparts. Some of them might have even continued their journey to the Ganges Delta, which was also traveled in a reverse direction by Ibn Battuta when he came up from the Bengali coast to the foot of the Assam Highlands for an audience with a Muslim sage.142 Wang Dayuan in the 1330s noticed a pilgrim route from Yunnan to Mecca. Although the Chinese traveler did not explicitly tell whether the route was maritime or overland,143 as long as free and safe passage was guaranteed by the Bengal Sultanate, as had been the case with Ibn Battuta, the sea route from Bengal must have been an equally attractive and reasonable alternative for Muslim pilgrims from Yunnan. Zheng He’s grandfather and father are said to have been endowed with an epithet “hajji,” a highly respected title for a Muslim who has made the “haj” pilgrimage to Mecca. They might have made an oceangoing journey to the Middle East, and the travel information they had accumulated was passed on to Zheng He, who would More than a half century earlier before Säkhanpha, Khubilai might have planned the westward campaign even to Bengal, although it was not carried out. Polo, The Travels, pp. 189-90. Meanwhile, the Mao campaign to Kale in the upper Chindwin Valley could have been the main cause of the “Battle of Chindwin” of 1356, as a result of which the “Maw was besieged” by the Burmese forces. The YMGJ, pp. 47-49, and the PMS, pp. 213-21, refer to the Mao expedition with “900,000 soldiers” against Assam, while the chronicle of Assam claims that the members of the Assam ruling house were the descendants of the Mäng Mao royalty. Golap Chandra Barna, ed. and trans, AhomBuranji: From the Earliest Time to the End of Ahom Rule. Cf. Leach, Highland Burma, p. 241. 139 For a parallel role played by Ayutthaya, see Chris Baker, “Ayutthaya Rising: From Land or Sea?” p. 53. 140 Deyell, “China Connection,” p. 224. 141 Forbes, “Role of Hui Muslims,” p. 292. 142 Ibn Battuta, Travels in Asia and Africa, pp. 268-70. 143 While Su Jiqing, the annotator of Wang’s work, identifies the route as the one through Burma or Bengal then by westward voyage on the Indian Ocean, Forbes refers to it as an “overland road.” Su Jiqing, Daoyizhilue Jiaoshi, p. 352; Forbes, “Role of Hui Muslims,” p. 292. 138

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follow the maritime route with which he was familiar from his childhood. In sum, growing trans-civilization interactions under the Pax Mongolica, expansion of trade networks by Muslim merchants, development of the mining industry in Yunnan, and increasing Bengali demand for Yunnanese silver and horses, altogether enhanced the economic base of Mäng Mao. Very conveniently located on the Southwest Silk Road, the main artery of Sino-Indian communications, which also connected the Inland and Maritime Silk Roads, the Mao kingdom, as an inland entrepot for Sino-Indian trade and a supplier of exotic commodities, derived enormous benefit from the economic boom. Driven by the commercial necessity to provide east/west-bound mule and pony caravans with the security of cargo, Mäng Mao under Säkhanpha expanded its territory along the trade route and to the sources of commodities. With the further prospect of direct access to the Indian Ocean trade, or due to the feuds with the Pinya/Sagaing dynasts who sent an expedition to fight the “Battle of Chindwin,” the Mao forces made southward incursions into the Irrawaddy Basin. However, they “only raided, looted, and left,”144 without establishing a branch of the royal house there. Probably the capital area was economically and demographically unattractive and unproductive, as it had yet to recover from the Mongol invasion sixty years earlier, further devastated by the Syam incursions in recent years.145 Probably the Mao raid was only punitive against Burmese territorial ambition northwestward along the Chindwin, the gateway to Manipur and further to Bengal.146 In any case, the mere conquest of Pinya and Sagaing did not immediately lead to pacification of the entire kingdom and overall control of the Irrawaddy artery down to the Bay of Bengal, which certainly dissuaded the Mao leaders from furthering the military campaign.

The Syam in classical Burmese kingship Both Paul Bennett and Michael Aung-Thwin stress the continuity of the Pagan tradition of kingship in succeeding dynasties.147 Yet it was not without change. Bennett also remarks, “One attribute to the Pinya/Sagaing rulers does seem to modify Pagan traditions slightly. The 14th-century kings laid great emphasis on their Aung-Thwin and Aung-Thwin, History of Myanmar, p. 110. The lands devastated by the Mongols “became full of jungle” and “were untouched until 1386.” Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 129; Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” pp. 24, 27. The UK indirectly describes poverty-stricken Sagaing by stating that upon the conquest of Sagaing, the Mao army could obtain only two old men. UK, I, 337. 146 Access of Sagaing/Pinya to the south, the source of commercial profit from maritime trade, was very limited, if any, as the land between the twin capitals and the coast was under control of their rival cities, such as Toungoo, Taungdwingyi, Prome, Sagu, Yametin, and, most importantly, the Mon kingdom of Lower Burma. This might have turned the attention of the Sagaing/Pinya dynasts to overland trade over the Manipuri Hills with Bengal. 147 Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” pp. 11-15; Aung-Thwin, Pagan, pp. 50, 61. 144 145

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possession of white elephants. . . . [They were] the physical symbols of the Cakravartin or universal monarch.”148 Another post-Pagan modification to the conceptions of Burmese kingship was immediately made after the Mao sack of the twin capitals, as the fall of Pinya/Sagaing left a devastating impact on the region as well as on the population,149 and thus fundamentally and perpetually changed the way the Burmese perceived the Syam. A royal order of 1368, declared by King Tryaphya who succeeded Thadominbya, the founder of Ava, was a clear reflection of the psychological change that had quietly prevailed among the ruling elites of the Irrawaddy Basin. The edict was addressed to rulers and chiefs of various domains in the lands of Syam, Yun (Yuan, i.e. Lan Na), and Tayok (China), and to Burmese ministers and officials as well.150 The Syam, together with Yun and Tayok, here represents an independent political entity, over which a decree of the Burmese monarch was claimed, or wished, to exercise certain influence. The desired claim to suzerainty over these foreign lands symbolizes the change in the essential qualifications for the Burmese monarch after physical and psychological devastation through a series of the wars with the Mongol conquerors and the Syam invaders. By the same token, the inscription of 1375 represents the advent of the change in Burmese conceptions of ideal kingly conduct after the onset of intensifying Shan presence in the affairs of Central Burma. It says: Just as in the Island of Ceylon where the Religion shone, (and where also) the heretics Klañ had completely destroyed the land so that the Island of Ceylon revive and the Religion shine again . . . through the effort done by the great king Dutthagamani who was the recipient of the prophecy that he would become the right hand disciple of Maitrya, on Jambudipa where the Religion shone bright, the country of Mranma was also completely destroyed by the heretic Syam and yet through the might and wisdom of . . . the great king Tryaphya . . . the heretic Syam were suppressed and the Religion shone again so that . . . Awa, capital of the Mranma land became as pleasant as the Tavatimsa.151

By comparing “the victory of king Tryaphya of Ava over the dithi (heretic) Syam to Dutthagamani’s victory over the Cola Klañ heretic, Elara, at Anuradhapura, Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” pp. 14-15. The devastating impact on the soil of Central Burma by the Syam incursions caused a large southward migratory movement by the inhabitants of the Irrawaddy Basin to Toungoo. Bennett argues, “The destructive Shan inroads of the 1360s probably caused more physical damage than the ‘fall of Pagan’.” He also states, “The evidence of serious economic and social disruption during and after the Shan invasions of 1359-1368 is more striking than that involving the Mongol/Chinese inroads.” Bennett, “Fall of Pagan,” pp. 4, 27. 150 J. S. Furnivall and Pe Maung Tin eds., Zambudipa Okhsaung-kyam, p. 60. This order is also reproduced in ROB, I, 149-153. 151 Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” pp. 130-31. 148 149

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Ceylon, in 101 BC”,152 the epigraphic account eulogizes Tryaphya for his maintenance of the Buddhist order in the land of Ava that, owing to the royal effort based on Buddhist precepts, became “as pleasant as the Tavatimsa.”153 Hence, King Tryaphya, faithfully following Buddhist kingly deeds and righteously ruling over a land comparable to the celestial abode, is a clear manifestation of Burmese-Buddhist kingship here. Meanwhile the Syam underwent transformation from religious “slave” into the foe of the Religion to be pacified by a cakkavatti, “World Ruler, who rolls the wheel of empire (cakka) to the earth’s ocean bounds, inducing all kings to submit to the Buddhist Law.”154 The cakkavatti cult was one of the essential components that shaped the Burmese conceptions of kingship, so were the Syam, as the significant Other, an integral part of that classical political ideology.155 Once the presence of the heretic Syam became one of the dominant features in the politics of Central Burma, victory over, or more precisely any battle with, the Syam would be incorporated into a set of qualifications for a righteous Buddhist monarch in the Burmese context. The change in the way epigraphs describe King Thihathu, the founder of the Pinya-Sagaing dynasty, is especially illustrative in this regard. In an epigraph inscribed during his lifetime, Thihathu is moderately referred to as the king “who ruled over all the Panya prañ [land of Pinya].”156 After his death his realm became somewhat larger, as inscriptions of 1332 and 1342 state that Thihathu ruled over all the land of Mranma (Myanmar) after conquering the 900,000 Khan soldiers.157 Then, after the Mao sack of the twin capitals in Central Burma, Thihathu began to be described as “ruling over all Mranma and Syam lands after conquering the 900,000 Khan soldiers.”158 The phrase “ruling over Mranma and Syam lands” with some variations would become a customary, distinguished modifier for successive Avan monarchs, who, after engaging Syam forces, proudly claimed their suzerainty over the Syam land.159 As Ava’s supremacy over Upper Burma was challenged by the regional centers to the south, whose leaders also called themselves king (min), the modifier was indispensable for the Avan monarch to be the king of kings, or the great king (min-gyi).160 Luce, “Early Syām,” p. 198, n. 199. Tawatimsa is a heavenly abode of Sakka, “the Burmese-Buddhist equivalent of Indra,” who is “the most devout of the devas of the Buddha” and “guardian of the moral law in the world.” AungThwin, Pagan, p. 49. 154 Lieberman, Administrative Cycles, p. 69. 155 Note, however, their conflicts were not “ethnic” but religious in nature. The Avan king fought to defend the welfare of Buddhism from external, heretical invasion and destruction, not for an “ethnic cleansing” of the Shan. See for a relevant criticism of the ethnic framework used to analyze the early history of Burma, Aung-Thwin, “Ava and Pegu.” 156 SMK, III, 253-54. 157 SMK, III, 331; IV, 44. 158 Than Tun, “History 1300-1400,” p. 131. 159 See, for example, SMK, IV, 220, 230, 240, and V, 69. 160 This holds good especially when the growing Syam power was a real threat to the Burmese 152 153

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Conclusion In the Pagan epigraphy the early Syam are depicted as individual components of Burmese society, not as an autonomous political entity posing a real threat to the Irrawaddy Basin. Neither Mäng Mao, Mogaung, Mohnyin, nor Hsenwi are mentioned by any of the Pagan inscriptions. The early Syam begin to emerge as a major rival power of the Burmese monarchy in the epigraphy of Pinya and Sagaing, the twin capitals sacked by the Mao forces. It was the military, diplomatic, and commercial contact with the Mongols that transformed the early Syam from religious “slave” to archenemy of the Religion. As David K. Wyatt once remarked, “The political transformation of continental Southeast Asia was paralleled by the rise to power of the Mongols in China and the extension of that power into Southeast Asia”.161 The impact of the Mongols on the northern mainland through warfare and exchange of tribute and gifts has been emphasized by scholars like Coedès and Wyatt, and thus well researched.162 However, their commercial influence, despite its significance in the political transformation of the upland Tai world, has received far less scholarly attention. Admittedly, data on the trade of the interior Tai world in the precolonial period is very scarce. But the academic negligence is also due to what Sun Laichen aptly terms the “maritime mentality,”163 which disproportionately focuses on the seaborne interaction when examining Southeast Asian trade.164 In the case of the upland Tai world, a “shift from a maritime to an overland perspective” is crucial, as the overland commercial impact from Yuan China, especially from neighboring, flourishing Yunnan, was profound. Trade was vital to the economic base of the upland Tai, as was the foundation of Ayutthaya.165 Not only in the rise of Mäng Mao, but also in those of the Sipsong Panna and Lan Na, did the Mongol factor of the Central Plain, which was the case, as Fernquest (2006) has vividly illustrated. Actually, in western Southeast Asia the Syam were as important a political and military power as the Burmese to the Chinese. This is clearly shown by the fact that when the Siyiguan [College of Translators for the Barbarians of the Four Quarters] was established by the Ming in 1407, only two out of eight colleges (guan) translated Southeast Asian scripts, Baiyi and Mian (Daniels 2012, 152). Note that the colleges of Lan Na and Ayutthaya were founded much later, in 1511 and 1579 respectively. 161 Wyatt, Thailand, p. 30. 162 For intense Lan Na-Yuan relations, see LNCH, pp. 78-92. 163 Sun Laichen, “Military Technology Transfers,” p. 495. 164 Therefore, the maritime commercial factor in the rise of Ayutthaya has long been studied and well known, making a clear contrast with the interior Tai context. 165 The Chiang Mai Chronicle states, “Commerce was thriving” in the Lan Na region in the 1270s, and “traders from there [Ayutthaya] come [to Haiphunchai].” It also remarks that King Mangrai was determined to take Hariphunchai [modern-day Lamphun] when he heard, “In trade, the people of the domain [Hariphunchai] are very prosperous.” David K. Wyatt and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo, eds. and trans., The Chiang Mai Chronicle, p. 19. Meanwhile, the initial emergence of Ayutthaya as a maritime power, rather than a territorial one, in the late 13th or early 14th century was closely associated with flourishing maritime trade under the Pax Mongolica. Cf. Baker, “Ayutthaya Rising,” p. 55. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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play a decisive role. Further research on the “Tai Century” in northern mainland Southeast Asia should also take into consideration the “Mongol Century” in China and Eurasia as a whole, because both were parallel phenomena, in time and space.

Abbreviations BZJ HMN IJAS JBRS JESHO JSEAS JSS JWH LNCH MGJ PMS ROB SBBR SMK UK XTS YMGJ YS YT ZML

Jiang Yingliang, Baiyizhuan Jiaozhu Hmannan Mahayazawindawgyi International Journal of Asian Studies Journal of the Burma Research Society Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient Journal of Southeast Asian Studies Journal of the Siam Society Journal of World History Liew-Herres Foon Ming and Volker Grabowsky, Lan Na in Chinese Historiography: Sino-Tai Relations as Reflected in the Yuan and Ming Sources Zhaopaya Tanmatie, Heimeng Gumeng: Mengmao Gudai Zhuwangshi Renoo Wichasin, Phün Müang Sænwi Than Tun, Royal Orders of Burma SOAS Bulletin of Burma Research Burma, Department of Archaeology, Shei-haung Myanma Kyauksa- mya U Kala, Mahayazawingyi Xin Tang Shu Yinyunruiwude Meng Guozhanbi Jianshi Yuan Shi Twinthintaik Wun Maha Sithu, Myanma Yazawin-thit Zhiyuan Zhengmian Lu

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Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

Lan Na under Burma: A “Dark Age” in Northern Thailand? Ken Kirigaya

This article supplements and develops Justin McDaniel’s essay that boldly questions the long-established way the Burmese period of rule over Northern Thailand (c. 1560-1770) has been depicted. Because of the ferocious atrocities committed by the Burmese in the sack of Ayutthaya in 1767, their image in Thai perception is unarguably negative, leading to the customary depiction of their rule in Lan Na as ruthlessly oppressive, and the 200-year period a “dark age.” However, evidence from historical accounts and other fields reveals that was not necessarily the case. Much blame habitually placed by Thai historians on the Burmese is scholarly baseless, albeit ideologically meaningful in the creation of the significant “Other” to define the positive Thai-ness, based on which Thai nationhood is constructed. The Burmese, according to Thai historical perspective, were aggressive, expansionist, and bellicose. . . Here . . . the otherness serves as a token of negative identification regardless of what that nation is or does. Other nations have always been blamed for damage and evil. It is convenient for Tai historians to blame the Burmese even for the loss of historical documents. . . (Thongchai 1998: 166) Without any intention, the image projected in the Thai TV drama represents a fixed set of ideas about the Thai perception of what the Burmese are like. In this, the producer has emphasized the negative image of the Burmese. He dehumanized them, depicting them as monsters who plunder, kill, and rape Thai people. (Sunait 2000: 54) The height of Burmese rule was between the 1560s and 1750s. This period of more than 200 years has been classified as one of destruction, darkness, oppression, and intellectual stagnation. However, epigraphic, codicological, economic, and archaeological evidence does not indicate that the period of Burmese rule in the region was particularly devastating. . . (McDaniel 2007: 88-9) Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Introduction Justin McDaniel, specialist in Northern Thai Buddhism, wrote a thoughtprovoking essay (2007) that challenges the conventional way of depicting the Burmese as an archenemy of the Thai and removing them from Northern Thai Buddhist history. He asserted that the article was “just the first stage of a much larger project that needs to be taken on by scholars of Burmese history and Buddhism” (89).1 However, few, either Burmese or Siamese, have devotedly responded to his call since then.2 The task may be carried out better by “foreign scholars who . . . might not be explicitly or implicitly influenced by modern Thai bias against the Burmese” (93). I, without a “pro-Thai/Tai attitude” (95), but with some, if humble, knowledge of the languages concerned—Burmese, Thai, and Tai Yuan—thus take up the issue again, and supplement and develop McDaniel’s important article by focusing mainly on the administrative aspect of Burmese rule in Lan Na, which he has left to those who show interest in his research. The kingdom of Lan Na, once the center of politics and Buddhist scholarship in the upland Tai world, fell in 1558 to the massive Burmese army led by King Bayinnaung. Burmese rule in Lan Na lasted, intermittently, more than two centuries, which neatly corresponded to the “early modern” era.3 Despite its prolonged and profound impact on local society as well as on mainland Southeast Asia as a whole, the 200-year period has so far attracted little scholarly attention. Notable exceptions to this academic trend are the studies by Sarassawadee Onsakul (2005) and Latdawal Sæsiao (2002). Ambitious and pioneering though both works are in their field, they employ no Burmese sources, either primary or secondary, which inevitably and regrettably makes their description of Burmese rule in Lan Na rather one-sided and thus less convincing.4 Furthermore, the historical perspective of both scholars is influenced by a long-established intellectual, ideological prejudice that originated and developed outside Lan Na studies. This issue will be discussed in due course. Besides the language barrier, the scarcity of references in Northern Thai Perhaps because his article was featured in an issue of the Journal of Burma Studies, he urged Burma scholars only. Alternatively, he might have been greatly disappointed with the academic environment in Thailand that “the likelihood of a surge in student and scholarly interest in Burmese history and language is doubtful” (91). However, more than anyone else, it is indeed the scholars of Thai studies, especially Lan Na specialists, who need to take his suggestion into consideration. 2 Partially because his article was published in the Journal of Burma Studies, to which few Thai scholars subscribe, it does not seem to have attracted due attention from Thai scholars. 3 The contemporaneity between the Burmese era in Lan Na and the early modern period is briefly mentioned in Ann-CMC, p. 285. Abbreviations of frequently cited materials are listed below. 4 McDaniel (91), although describing Sarassawadee’s work as “definitive Thai language work on Northern Thai history,” criticizes it for the short account of the 200-year Burmese period in Lan Na, and writes that she “provides a grim picture of Burmese rule.” Meanwhile he praises Latdawal (93n) for her favorable description of Burmese policy toward Lan Na Buddhism. However, as I will show below, Latdawal also “provides a grim picture of Burmese rule,” probably grimmer than Sarassawadee’s. 1

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manuscripts to Burmese rule surely accounts for the scarcity of research on the 200year period. For example, The Chiang Mai Chronicle, the basic text for the study of Lan Na history, spends only three pages with fragmented accounts for the years 1600-1700 (CMC: 129-32). Most crucially, however, it is the deeply entrenched negative image of the Burmese, hence their rule in Lan Na, in Thai perception that makes the research far less attractive.5 Hemmed in between the “golden age” of Lan Na under the Mangrai dynasty and its restoration and “renaissance” by the Kawilan dynasty, the 200-year Burmese domination has been considered a “dark age” in Lan Na history.6 Thus Prisna in his MA thesis on the relationship between early Bangkok monarchs and Lan Na vassals writes (1973: 80): “The poverty and suffering of the people [of Lan Na] were the result of the policy aimed to only benefit the Burmese. . . . As a result of Burmese rule, Lan Na declined politically, administratively, and economically.” Usanee in her MA thesis on the history of Ayutthaya-Lan Na relations notes (1983: 134): “Throughout the period of Burmese rule in Lan Na, there always arouse rebellions,” while two scholars of Lan Na literature, Phannpen and Phaithun, remark (2001: 6): “During the more than 200 years of Burmese administration, the Lan Na people always tried to fight for freedom.” Latdawal, whose pioneering work I have just mentioned above, writes: The impact of Nyaungyan administration on the people of Lan Na was far graver than that of other [Burmese] dynasties, as the Burmese used the power to enforce military conscription and taxation, which imposed considerable hardship on the masses. Consequently, some local groups refused the [Burmese] authorities at the time. (2002: 163)

Udom Rungruangsri, the leading philologist of Lan Na, relates (2003: 5): “The people in Lan Na tried to get united to liberate themselves from Burmese many times,” and The period during which Chiang Mai and other major towns of Lan Na accepted Burmese vassalage brought a downfall to Lan Na, including scholarly activity and religious study. The mind of the people that had reached a state of peace became tainted by the brutality of war. Agricultural products that had once been abundant became scarce, because the people went to battlefields rather than plow their fields. McDaniel rightly points out (90), “The effects of the ‘trauma’ of the Burmese burning of Ayutthaya and the pervasive anti-Burmese attitude have steered many Thai scholars away from researching or even considering the Burmese influence on Northern Thailand.” 6 For a general description of the golden age of Lan Na, see LNCH (63-6). But see also the section titled “Whither a Golden Age of Buddhist Literature?” in McDaniel’s essay (101-9), for his questioning of the “use of the term ‘golden age’ to refer to the pre-Burmese period . . . . and the term ‘renaissance’ for the period that follows.” Meanwhile, for a “dark age” paradigm in the historiography of post-Pagan Burma, see Aung-Thwin (1998: 136). 5

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The people who had been autonomous and content with their own communities came to have a lord of different nation and different language. (9)

Finally, Wyatt, in his book “now becoming a standard text on Thai history in English” (Thongchai 1998: 144), strongly argues: For a half century [ca. 1660-1710], the Tai Yuan . . . silently suffered an onerous regime that taxed them heavily and often levied on them conscription for Burma’s armies far from their homes. If for Ayutthaya the century or so following the first major Burma invasions of the 1560s was a period of recovery, economic development . . . for Lan Na the period was one of suffering. Caught in frequent wars, towns and villages frequently were depopulated, their families deported. . . . By the early eighteenth century . . . its rich cultural heritage, especially the glories of the sixteenth century, was neglected. (2003: 105-6, under “Lan Na in a Time of Tumult”)

These negative remarks on Burmese rule, however, were made before the publication of, or without referring to, the pioneering works by Sarassawadee and Latdawal (except the remark by Latdawal himself).7 Therefore they are based not on thorough research or textual references, but primarily on the presumption held by the authors themselves that the Burmese who “wrought awful desolation” (Wyatt 2003: 118) in the sack of Ayutthaya in 1767 must have been demonized, hence Burmese rule in Lan Na was heinously oppressive, which naturally resulted in frequent, pervasive local uprisings against the devilish rulers. Plausible as it seems, the presumption is not without problems. First, as the triumphant Burmese forces at Ayutthaya consisted not only of Burmese contingents, but also of auxiliaries of Shan, Yuan, Lao, and even fellow Thai from northern cities,8 it might have been these Tai brethren, including Siamese compatriots, who “raped, pillaged, and plundered” the people of Ayutthaya, and “put the torch to everything flammable, and even hacked at images of the Buddha” (Wyatt 2003: 118). Next, the Burmese who sacked the Thai capital in 1767 belonged to the Konbaung dynasty, whose rule in Lan Na had just begun a few years earlier, and would last only a decade. More than a half of the 200-year Burmese era in Lan Na corresponded to the Nyaungyan period. The two dynasties were qualitatively and quantitatively different from each other, so McDaniel also lists Thai scholars who have not “paid any serious attention to the possible Burmese influences of the Burmese period in general,” and who provided a “grim picture of Burmese rule and the ‘suffering’ and ‘poverty’ of the local people under their rule” (91). 8 KBZ (I: 376) lists contingents from Tak, Kamphængphet, Sawankhalok, Sukhothai, Phitsanulok, Nakhon Sawan, and seven other towns among the Burmese forces. Wyatt (2003: 117) also refers to Shan, Tai Yuan, and Lao auxiliaries in the Burmese army, although he fails to mention Siamese troops levied from these northern towns. 7

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were their ways of rule in Lan Na. Furthermore, as Ayutthaya and Lan Na, with their distinctive historical identities and historically different relations with their powerful western neighbors, were not a single unified political entity, or the same “nation” in 1767, it is fairly unlikely that the Burmese cultivated the same feeling toward the two Tai-speaking domains, treating them equally. Hence, a simple negative evaluation of Burmese rule in the Lan Na of, say, the 1580s or 1650s, based on the judgment of the “Burmese” atrocities at Ayutthaya in 1767 was, in spatio-temporal terms, problematic. While Sunait (2000) emphasizes the impact of the negative image of the Burmese on literary works and show business in Thailand, the series of negative remarks on Burmese rule in Lan Na suggest that, not only among novelists and producers of TV dramas and movies, but even among academics, has the Thai perception of the demonized Burmese widely and deeply prevailed. The demonization of the Burmese originated in the historical writings of the early Bangkok era, during which those who had fresh memories of the tragic end of Ayutthaya publicly “expressed antagonism towards the Burmese” as an “enemy of Buddhism, the Thai people, and the Kingdom” (Sunait 2000: 57). Then, a century later, emerged the concept of “Thai national history,” which was closely associated with the “idea of Thailand being a nation-state belonging to the Thai people with Bangkok as its only center” (56). Within this formal framework of Thai national history, the narrative, or the myth, of the demonized Burmese was shaped, reproduced, and used to “create a sense of national unity” and to “show adoration for the three pillars of the country: nation, religion, and monarchy” (55). The myth also served to “define the domain of Thainess from outside,” i.e., to “identify the un-Thainess,” which is “one of the most effective strategies to differentiate We-self and otherness” (Thongchai 1998: 5, 169). To misquote Duara, the narrative of the demonized Burmese “enabled a totalizing conception of society built on a radical distinction between self versus Other” (1996: 63). “A demonic otherness” ascribed to the Burmese was, and is, “one of the most significant instruments in the identification of Thai nationhood” (Thongchai 1998: 6, 163). Thai nationalist historiography, called “royalist historiography” by Vickery (1979), which “focused more on the histories of the great centers, namely Sukhothai, Ayudhya, and Bangkok,” and emphasized (disproportionately) the continuity of Thai history, “went unchallenged until the 1980s,” when “the growing interest in so-called local history in Thailand” emerged (Thongchai 1998: 162-3). Consequently, “the Ministry of Education approved various curricula for ‘regional/local history’ in secondary schools throughout the kingdom” and, in the north, “curricula for Lan Na studies (literature and history) at the M.A. level has been approved at Chiang Mai University and Chiang Mai Rajabhat University,” as a result of which “much has been achieved so far in the field of Lan Na studies” (LNCH: 11). Therefore, Lan Na scholarship, to some extent, has been an effective counter-narrative to the centeroriented linear historiography, thereby proving correct the late David K. Wyatt’s Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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conviction that “the histories of Siam and Thailand are not synonymous with the histories of Ayudhya and Bangkok” (CMC: xxxi). However, the domain of study of the Burmese era in Lan Na is still under the powerful ideological influence of the royalist historiography. As pointed out above, Lan Na and Ayutthaya were not a single political entity, so conceptualization and interpretation of the 200-year period should be made outside the confine of the royalist historiography. However, the negative treatment of the Burmese era, which has been influenced by the dominant presumption rooted in the sack of Ayutthaya and developed within the framework of Thai national history, explicitly shows that the historiography of Lan Na under Burma simply follows the way the Burmese have been depicted in the royalist historiography, and thus is not quite autonomous from the Bangkok-centric perspective. Echoing van Leur’s famous remark (1955: 261), scholars of Lan Na studies are observing history of the region from the court of Ayutthaya or the palace of Bangkok. I will therefore chronologically examine the nature of Burmese rule in Lan Na by letting the sources speak for themselves without any intellectual, ideological prejudice; this leads to my questioning the validity of the “dark age” paradigm, and the deconstruction of the myth of the demonized Burmese prevalent in the historiography of Lan Na as well as the Kingdom as a whole.

Lan Na and Toungoo dynasts: 1558-1615 By the time Bayinnaung appeared before the wall of Chiang Mai in 1558, Lan Na had already internally disintegrated and been militarily weakened. Grabowsky remarks: The twenty-five years that followed the death of King Müang Kaeo [in 1526] are characterized by internal strife. Five rulers ascended to the throne one after another during the time, and none of them ended his or her reign peacefully. . . . After the violent death of the last two kings, Lan Na was plunged into chaos and anarchy for several years. (LNCH: 70)9

The CMC (119) aptly states that in 1547/48 Lan Na “was unstable and had truly entered a Kali Epoch [i.e. a dark age].” Wyatt also confirms (2003: 71-2): “By the mid-sixteenth century, Lan Na again had lost its focus and was the helpless prey of contending factions based in the principalities of the northern upland valley.” Therefore, given that “Ayutthaya’s territory and population, as well as economic resources, were much larger than those of Lan Na” (LNCH: 66), had there been no Burmese intervention, Lan Na would have become a northern territory of the McDaniel also states (2007: 101), “the ‘golden age’ [of Lan Na] ended long before the Burmese armies entered Northern Thai territory.”

9

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“Southerners,” who had been the archenemy of the Tai Yuan for a century or so and were now furnished with far superior European-style firearms. What might be termed “Lan Na-ness” was, in a sense, preserved and prolonged by the Burmese. One more thing worthy of note is that “Lan Na was never a firmly unified kingdom with Chiang Mai as her undisputed political center” (LNCH: 71). The kingdom was largely divided into two geopolitically distinctive areas, “Northeast Lan Na” with its center at Chiang Sæn, and “Southwest Lan Na” with Chiang Mai as its capital. “The division of Lan Na into two contending core-areas further intensified during the centuries that followed the Burmese conquest in 1558” (72). Thus King Mæku, who had been reinstalled by Bayinnaung on the Chiang Mai throne, had to lead a northeastern campaign with Burmese aid to “fight the Chawa enemy and those provincial lords who were Chawa” in 1559 (CMC: 125-6).10 What appears to have been a local revolt against the Burmese may in reality have been an outbreak of embittered rivalry between the two centers. This “North-South-dichotomy”11 would repeatedly appear in the course of the 200-year history. In 1564 Mæku with other rulers of Lan Na domains, including Chiang Sæn, rebelled against Bayinnaung, probably due to the Burmese conscription of Lan Na troops for a large military operation against Ayutthaya (CMC: 127; Ann-CMC: 262). Transcending the geopolitical and historical dichotomy, Chiang Mai and Chiang Sæn were united against the Burmese, as a result of which Mæku was captured and taken to Pegu. Perhaps partially deducing from this large rebellion of 1564, a conventional view concludes that the people of Lan Na tried many times to become united to liberate themselves from the Burmese (Usanee 1983: 134; Phannpen and Phaithun 2001: 6; Udom 2003: 5). On the contrary, however, a rebellion of this sort would not arise again until the late 1720s, more than 150 years later, and even then it was not a joint effort by Chiang Mai and Chiang Sæn, as we shall see below. Instead of Mæku, Bayinnaung installed a certain queen of the Mangrai dynasty on the throne of Chiang Mai (CMC: 127).12 This lady ruled until her death in 1578. As the CMC spends only a few lines on her reign, and other Lan Na sources are more or less the same, we know few events worthy of mention during these years, and further exploration into the socioeconomic and political conditions during her reign is impossible. Then in 1579 Prince Tharrawaddy, son of Bayinnaung by his second or third queen, came to take charge of Lan Na. Upon appointing his son ruler of a foreign country, Bayinnaung advised: For a more detailed account of the Burmese-Tai Yuan joint campaign, see Ann-CMC, p. 262. Chawa in the past meant the Lao capital of Luang Prabang. At that time, Sai Setthathilat, a Lao king, who “continued the struggle against the Burmese,” was supported by the northwestern lords (LNCH: 70). 11 Not to be confused with the relations between Lan Na and Ayutthaya, whose inhabitants are depicted as “Northerners” and “Southerners” in this article. 12 McDaniel (100) has another story of this queen. 10

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When you arrive in Chiang Mai, call local ministers and dignitaries bagyi-daw, badwè-daw, or naung-daw13; do not yearn for good local elephants and horses; do not let royal pages and servants, sons and grandsons, commit extortion in towns and villages; follow local customs concerning the rate of tax, customs, tolls, and brokerage. These are the [most important] issues in administering a country. (UK III: 53)

The advice is not entirely a eulogistic fiction for the great, or probably the greatest monarch of Burma, but reflects to some extent Bayinnaung’s true voice, as some of these rules are what he might also have followed. Northern Thai chronicles testify that when he pacified Lan Na in 1558, Bayinnaung “called for elderly people and asked about the customs of the land,” then said, “I who am the king would act according to the custom of those kings [of Lan Na who reigned previously]” (Sarassawadee 2005: 112). Although Lan Na sources do not make it clear whether Tharrawaddy, Bayinnaung’s son, faithfully followed the fatherly advice,14 a rather favorable description of Chiang Mai (that at least indicates he paid some attention to his father’s words) can be found in a travelogue by the English adventurer, Ralph Fitch, who visited the city in 1587. Jamahey [Chiang Mai] is a very faire and great Towne, with faire houses of stone, well peopled, the streets are very large, the men very well set and strong, with a cloth about them. . . . Hither to Jamahey come many Merchants out of China, and bring great store of Muske, Gold, Silver, and many other things of China worke. Heere is great store of Victuals. . . . Heere is great store of Copper and Benjamin. (1905: 194-5)

This firsthand account probably bears some credibility, thereby determining the English East India Company, with expectation of lucrative trade, to send its agents with commodities to Chiang Mai in 1612 (Farrington and Dhiravat 2007: 257; Nantha 1970: 58, 69). The “Kali Epoch” that had reigned over Chiang Mai since the late 1540s seems to have already been over under the Burmese ruler. In the mid-1590s, Tharrawaddy severed his allegiance to Pegu, now under the rule of his half-brother, and became autonomous. The lack of military backing from the Burmese homeland, however, invited renewed attacks from other Lan Na domains supported by Lan Sang, as a result of which Tharrawaddy accepted suzerainty of, or alliance with, Ayutthaya (Ann-CMC: 266-7). This was not a simple rebellion by the These words are respectful terms for addressing men older or younger than one’s father, or those older than oneself. 14 McDaniel describes (98) Tharrawaddy as “respecting the customs of the Chiang Mai royal court, treating the local population fairly and following the advice of Chiang Mai court ministers, officials and learned monks.” 13

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frustrated Lan Na towns against the ruling Burmese, but an anomalous, complicated situation in which Chiang Mai under a Burmese prince supported by the Siamese king fought the “Northeastern” Lan Na domains backed by the Lao. Likewise, prolonged disputes over the succession to the Chiang Mai throne after Tharrawaddy’s death in 1607 variously involved court intrigues and power struggles among contenders of Lan Na domains: Ayutthaya, Shan, and Lao (Ann-CMC: 268). However, the dispute primarily revolved around the regentship of Tharrawaddy’s sons, not the kingship itself. The scions of the Burmese prince who never set their feet on the Burmese homeland were, although as puppets, supported and perpetuated by the local elite. Ironically, the royal house of Chiang Mai established by Bayinnaung was brought to an end by his grandson, Anauk-hpet-lun, of Nyaungyan Burma.

Lan Na under Nyaungyan rule, part I: c. 1615-1660 While Tharrawaddy was ruling Chiang Mai, there was a dynastic change in the Burmese homeland, from the Toungoo to Nyaungyan, whose second king, Anauk-hpet-lun, intervened in the succession disputes at the Chiang Mai court in 1614. While CMC (130) states that it was the rebellion of Lampang against Anaukhpet-lun that led to the Burmese intervention, KMRC (22), an eyewitness account of the event, claims that the ruler of Nan asked the Nyaungyan monarch to pacify Lan Na. As the new Burmese dynasty had yet to lay claim to suzerainty over Lan Na in 1614, Lampang technically could not, and did not have to, rebel against Anauk-hpetlun. It was the initiative taken by the Nan lord that led to the Burmese expedition against Lan Na. After successfully pacifying the region, Anauk-hpet-lun rewarded the ruler of Nan by conferring the throne of Chiang Mai upon him (Ann-CMC: 269). Other Lan Na domains, including Chiang Sæn, were also entrusted to local lords. Therefore Lan Na was under native rule, outside direct Burmese administration. Meanwhile, for some years before the Burmese intervention, communication lines between Lan Na and Ayutthaya were temporarily disturbed, so the English East India Company could receive no news from its agents sent to Chiang Mai (Farrington and Dhiravat 2007: 116). Immediately after the Burmese pacification, however, Ayutthaya merchants came by boat to the market in Hòt, a southern Lan Na town on the Ping River, which was now open “throughout the day every day” (KMRC: 59). Anauk-hpet-lun, by reestablishing social order and commercially favorable conditions in the region, may be credited with the reopening of trade between the North and South, as a result of which some Lan Na people “became rich” (59). In the next decade, Burma renewed its military campaign in Lan Na, pacifying two northeastern domains, Nan and Chiang Khòng (Ann-CMC: 270). A few years before the Lan Na campaign, a Nyaungyan army led by Anauk-hpet-lun’s younger brothers engaged a Lao army probably somewhere along the Mekong, and then went on an expedition against the Sipsong Panna region, which they successfully Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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subdued (UK III: 184-6). Anauk-hpet-lun informed his younger brothers that he himself would command forces to the Lao capital when the rainy season was over. While the royal brothers, the future King Thalun and Minyè-kyawswa, were collecting provisions and preparing a large number of war-boats at Chiang Sæn for the Lao campaign, the news of the rebellion of Chiang Khòng came in (186). The chronicle evidence strongly suggests that the restive Lan Na domains were again supported by the Lao side. In any case the rebellion was not widespread, as Chiang Mai and Chiang Sæn posed no threat to the Nyaungyan army, remaining loyal to the Burmese commanders. A noble of Chiang Sæn, according to the local account, even reconciled the royal brothers, who with their own troops engaged each other, after being informed of the death of Anauk-hpet-lun in 1628 (Ann-CMC: 271). Thalun, as a reward, appointed this noble as ruler of Chiang Sæn and conferred upon him a seemingly Burmese epithet. The royal brothers returned to the Burmese homeland to challenge the new king, their nephew, son of Anauk-hpet-lun. Anticipating that a prolonged civil war would deter Burmese leaders from taking military action against a remote corner of the empire, the lord of Chiang Mai who had been appointed by Anauk-hpet-lun in 1615 invaded Chiang Sæn with support from the Lampang lord, and imprisoned the ruler of Chiang Sæn, Thalun’s protégé (CMC: 131). After a swift victory over his nephew, Thalun again led Burmese troops to Lan Na and seized Chiang Mai in 1631 after a two-month siege. He spent about two years pacifying the region and rearranging the administration in accordance with the local customs. Thereafter, remarks a Lan Na chronicle: “All the people [of Lan Na] lived pleasantly and happily” and “Chiang Mai flourished very much” (TNSN: 188-9). That these sentences favorably describing the welfare of Lan Na society actually reflect the local reality is not clear and does not concern us much. The issue at hand is that they have never been referred to by scholars of Lan Na studies. The TNSN in which the controversial sentences can be found is a Thai translation of a chronicle of Chiang Sæn written in the Northern Thai script. It is an easily accessible and readable reference work for students of Thai history, because it belongs to the Prachum Phongsawadan [Collected Chronicles], presumably the most major collection of historical documents and essays readily available in college libraries in Thailand. Thus the text is listed in the bibliography of both Sarassawadee’s and Latdawal’s studies (2005: 301; 2002: 169).15 Actually both scholars have quoted another sentence from the TNSN (192), only a few pages after the sentences at issue, which says: “Ever since Engche became Mahatham of Ava, we Lan Na Thai have suffered increasingly because we had to collect money to feed the Burmese” (Sarassawadee 2005: 124; Latdawal 2002: 112-13). In the “dark age” paradigm, the Both Prisna (1973: 222) and Usanee (1983: 159) also list the TNSN in their Bibliography, while works of Phannpen and Phaithun (2001) and Udom (2003) contain no List of References. 15

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Lan Na people under Burmese rule could not, and should not, “live pleasantly and happily,” but must “have suffered.” This is a backward projection of the present image of the demonized Burmese onto the past. Sarassawadee has translated a chronicle of Chiang Sæn written in Northern Thai script, whose “content resembles that of the Tamnan Singhanawat [i.e. TNSN]” (2003: 7).16 She assumes that the author of the chronicle was a Chiang Sæn native who might have had a high-ranking post in the Burmese administration “because the content reflects an intimacy with the Burmese administrators” (15). In reference to the very passage “All the people [of Lan Na] lived pleasantly and happily” and “Chiang Mai flourished very much,” she describes the author as depicting Burmese rule favorably, making a clear contrast to the content of the CMC, which is filled with disorderliness, wars, and rebellions against the Burmese (15).17 However, as the sentence “Ever since Engche became Mahatham of Ava, we Lan Na Thai have suffered increasingly because we had to collect money to feed the Burmese” and other negative accounts on Nyaungyan rule suggest, the author is not particularly proBurmese: he (probably not she) is simply not anti-Burmese, with a historiographically neutral stance. The 18th or 19th century author was not under the influence of the modern Thai historiography, ideologically associated with “the image of the Burmese as an archenemy of the Thai [which] emerged . . . after the kingdom of Ayudhya fell to the Burmese armies in 1767” (Sunait 1992: 90). It is the myth of the demonized Burmese that has caused Sarassadee’s misreading of the author’s character. According to the TNSN’s account, the pleasant and happy life in Lan Na made possible by the Burmese protection lasted for approximately three decades, until the early 1660s. Wyatt (2003: 106) states that “for Lan Na the period [c. 1560-1660] was one of suffering.” This is not true of the last third of the period. He also notes (105), with a negative tone: “for decades [after the reconquest of Lan Na by Thalun in the early 1630s] the chronicles record only the transfers of governors from one müang to another.” In other words, there were no records of major disputes among local leaders, or of large military expeditions against, or external threats from, other Lan Na domains, Lan Sang, or Ayutthaya, which could have uprooted the lives of the masses. During the thirty-year period there was no conscription for military service or evacuation to foreign lands, which in the past had incessantly imposed enormous hardship on the people for centuries. According to Wyatt:

Thus the two chronicles might have been derived from the same original, or their originals shared a single source. The chronicle translated by Sarassawadee must have been completed before 1896, its last copying date. 17 However, regarding the period of Nyaungyan rule in Lan Na, the contents of the Chiang Sæn chronicle and the CMC are more or less the same. Furthermore, the last entry of the Chiang Sæn chronicle is the year 1728, as Sarassawadee asserts (8), before the CMC begins to tell the chaotic social conditions in Chiang Mai and around. 16

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The Chiang Mai chronicles of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries are filled with warfare; it seems to have occurred almost as a feature of everyday life. The Kingdom of Lan Na was in conflict with nearly all its neighbors at one time or another, and all too often was even at war with itself. (2003: 63)

In the 16th and the first third of the 17th century, sociopolitical conditions were not largely different from the previous centuries, in which even a decade of tranquility could not be hoped. The thirty-year peace in the mid-17th century was something that had been longed for in the region since the early 14th century. Not only in Lan Na, but also in its neighboring countries did peace prevail at the time. In Burma the reign of Thalun (1629-48) was “exceedingly peaceful” (Lieberman 1984: 57n), as he concentrated on “preserving rather than enlarging” the territory and concluded peace terms with Ayutthaya, the kingdom his predecessors had considered a vassal (55-6). Ayutthaya was under the rule of King Prasat Thong, “King of Golden Palace,” who reigned for twenty-seven years (1629-56), during which time Ayutthaya, as a supplier of commodities in high demand and as a distribution center, played an increasingly important role in the flourishing international commerce that attracted traders of diverse nationalities, including the Dutch (Wyatt 2003: 96). Lastly, Lan Na’s eastern cousin, Lan Sang was ruled by King Surinyavongsa, whose long reign (c. 1637-94) “is usually seen as the Indian summer of Lan Sang history” (Lieberman 2003: 284). The Lao kingdom at the time “enjoyed a golden age of prosperity and cultural growth,” which “subsequent generations would remember with pride” (Wyatt 2003: 86, 104).18 Therefore Lan Na under the “Pax Birmanica”, which subsequent generations would remember with anger and humility, was not a limited local phenomenon, but was closely associated with the peaceful political conditions covering large parts of mainland Southeast Asia.

Lan Na under Nyaungyan rule, part II: c. 1660-1730 The thirty-year Burmese Peace in Lan Na was broken in the early 1660s when Ayutthaya under King Narai sent expeditions against the region on two occasions, the latter of which resulted in the fall of Chiang Mai (Ann-CMC: 275-6). As Burma at the time had been preoccupied, first with a series of battles in the capital area with Chinese invaders from Yunnan, then with war against Ayutthaya along the Burmese littoral, Ava could not mobilize any sizeable military resource for the aid of the imperial periphery. Thus, when a Burmese rescue force arrived at Chiang Mai in March 1663 and found the city already occupied by an Ayutthaya army, Avan troops had no choice but to retreat (UK III: 280). Not long afterward the city of Chiang At the same time the kingdom was also experiencing “the golden age of Lan Sang literature” (Peltier 1983-84: 153). 18

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Mai was liberated, not by retaliatory forces from Ava, but by local efforts (282-3). This indeed was a popular uprising, probably the first against foreign rulers in the history of Lan Na. However, those in power were not the Burmese, as customarily and widely believed, but the Siamese, who were, according to modern historians, the same “nation” with the people of Lan Na (Damrong 2002: 14; Prisna 1973: 89). After expelling the Ayutthaya troops from the city, the Chiang Mai residents informed Ava of the successful retake of the city and reopened the city gate to their old suzerain, the Burmese, who were only too happy to take charge of the domain again (UK III: 283). Quite understandably, the Chiang Mai people who had “lived pleasantly and happily” for three decades preferred as their ruler the Burmese to the Siamese who “felt little in common” (Sarassawadee 2005: 210) with their northern neighbors. Probably in response to the loyalty shown by Chiang Mai that had been severely devastated by the Ayutthaya attack, Ava immediately executed a generous decree that Chiang Mai should “be exempted from taxes and all manner of duties for the next two to three years” (Dijk 2006: 104). The Dutch scholar, based on the VOC documents, states: Fields everywhere were now densely sown and trade began to pick up. Newly placed orders for Indian textiles from Chieng [sic] Mai even allowed the Dutch to sell off most of their Burma remnants, including the chassen and mulmul that had long remained unsold in Ava.19 (104)

This implies more than that Burmese rule in Lan Na was not always mercilessly exploitative. It indicates that the people of Chiang Mai were relatively well off to the extent that they were accustomed to the fine taste of the Indian fabrics which they badly wanted even in the aftermath of the war. Many of these “consumers” did not belong to the top echelon of local society, as the Chiang Mai ruling elite had been deported en masse to the South by the Ayutthaya troops (Ann-CMC: 276). They were probably and mainly the city dwellers of various professions who directly or indirectly benefited from the trade that “began to pick up.” The “urban” populace definitely preferred smooth foreign fabric to locally woven coarse cloth, and were sensitive to the latest “fashion.”20 The Ayutthaya campaign in Lan Na was a turning point in the history of Burmese rule in the region. It inevitably forced Ava to reconsider its administrative “Mulmul and chassen were fine, loosely woven, smooth, and soft cotton fabrics, much like muslin and were ordered in Bengal specifically for the Burma trade” (Dijk 2006: 133). 20 In 19th century Lan Na “it is quite possible that wealthier villagers tended to buy expensive imported yarns and fabrics” (Bowie 1992: 818). Meanwhile, in 16th century Burma, “Indian textiles ... became the basic apparel of interior elites, and possibly even of sections of the cultivating classes” (Lieberman 1984: 28), and in Toungoo in the early 17th century, “the only desirable textiles were those sold by Indian merchants” (28n). 19

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policy towards Lan Na, as the conquest of Chiang Mai by the Siamese could have jeopardized the defense of the Burmese heartland that had already been devastated by the Chinese invasion. Nyaungyan leaders thus decided to tighten control over the stronghold on the eastern imperial periphery by appointing a myowun (governor), whereby Lan Na would be placed under the direct rule of Burma. Thereafter local chronicles begin to mention negative remarks on the sociopolitical conditions of Lan Na. The CMC thus states (132): “In s. 1040 (1678/79) . . . Rot Sang Lam was made Wun . . . to rule Chiang Sæn. In s. 1044 (1682/83) Rot Sang Lam oppressed, and Min Sa [royal envoys] came to arrest him and sent him to Ava.” Meanwhile the TNSN (190) notes, “Maha Tham [King Minyè-kyawdin of Ava] ordered Fa Sangkung to take charge of Chiang Sæn as bogyok [Generalissimo] in 1673. Thereafter Chiang Sæn dignitaries had to collect things to support the Generalissimo.” However, the chronicle later relates (191): “Fa Sang[kung] was taken down to Ava in 1693/94. Then the Burmese came and had [the populace] satisfied.”21 These descriptions show that although some Burmese officials far from home on occasion grew oppressive and imposed hardship on the locals, Ava, closely monitoring the affairs of the imperial periphery, took necessary means to “satisfy” the local populace. This discredits Wyatt’s remark (2003: 105-6), “for a half century [ca. 1660-1710], the Tai Yuan . . . silently suffered an onerous regime that taxed them heavily and often levied on them conscription for Burma’s armies far from their homes.”22 Meanwhile, both Sarassawadee (2005: 124) and Latdawal (2002: 134), emphasizing the distress caused by excessive Burmese demands on the local people for material support to Nyaungyan officials, have quoted the same passage from a local chronicle that records: One chakkai (sitkè) of Chiang Rai had two subordinates. Each month, he was taken care of with rice worth 90,000 bia (cowry shell money) and 18,000 bia in money, while the two subordinates received 50 bia, one mat, one mosquito net, one pillow, and houses were built for them and people worked for them.23 (Sarassawadee 2005: 124)

In Chiang Sæn, records the TNSN (192), every month the myowun was given “rice 100,000 and food, chilies, salt worth 250, 000 bia. As for sitkè, rice 5000 and 25,000 bia were given.” The numbers are large, which may compel some to hastily As is expected, this sentence has attracted no scholarly attention, for it is entirely irreconcilable with the myth of the demonized Burmese. 22 Furthermore, TNSN’s remark (192), “Ever since Engche became Mahatham of Ava [i.e. King Sanei, reigning 1698-1714], we Lan Na Thai have suffered,” at least suggests that before 1698 there was not much suffering. 23 Although the English translation says 90,000 bia, the original Thai text (Sarassawadee 1996: 248) only writes 90,000, without bia. The 90,000 may indicate the weight of rice, approximately 108 kilograms. See LI, pt. II, vol. I, 98, 410, for a similar case. 21

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conclude that the economic burden on the locals was intolerably heavy, from which they always suffered. But having many digits does not necessarily mean having a large value. What is necessary to prove the Burmese demands were truly and greatly burdensome is to show how much monetary value the cowry had at the place at the time.24 Although the paucity of historical data makes the estimation difficult, at least surviving Lan Na inscriptions record that kings and nobles of the Mangrai dynasty repeatedly made pious, generous donations worth hundreds of thousands of cowries to Buddhist institutions (for example, LI pt. II, vol. I: 58, 86, 304). This implies that the amount of the bia which kings of the Mangrai dynasty had at their disposal easily surpassed millions, perhaps over ten million. Meanwhile the sitkè was second to the myowun in the Burmese administrative rank in Lan Na, and in Chiang Rai he was the principal official in the local administration. The Burmese myowun was the supreme lord, a king so to speak, of a domain where no native prince who had been given an allowance of ten million bia reigned. This inevitably raises the question whether these expenditures of feeding rulers, though alien, were extravagantly inappropriate, more excessive than those under the Mangrai dynasty.25 More comparative and qualitative analysis on the expenditures is seemingly necessary, before being presented as evidence of outrageous Burmese demands that caused local distress. In the first decade of the 18th century rebellions against Burmese arose in and around Lan Na, by Nan and Chiang Khòng in the years 1703-4, then by Chiang Tung in 1708-9 (Ann-CMC: 280-1). While the Chiang Tung rebellion was plotted by its own ruler without outside aid, those of Nan and Chiang Khòng were part of a Lao expedition against Lan Na, just like the one in the 1620s. As these rebellions were not based on local anguish, merely motivated by Lao ambition, they did not find any native collaborators in other Lan Na domains, and thus remained of limited phenomena. The next turning point in the history of Burmese rule in Lan Na was the appointment of a new Chiang Mai myowun in 1718. Until that year, the seat of the Chiang Mai myowun had been mostly reserved for the grandsons of King Nyaungyan, the founding father of the dynasty (UK III: 284, 286, 290, 294; LBHK: 293). As the new myowun, Nga-nyo, a cavalry officer, was not of royal blood, the irregular appointment was probably made possible through the strong ministerial patron-client ties that had prevailed in the Avan court and caused a malfunction of government control over officials in a remote territory (Lieberman 1984: 204). Unrestrained on the imperial periphery, Nga-nyo and his deputy enforced “ruinous taxation” and “severely oppressed the people and ground them down” (Lieberman 1984: 204; HMN III: 362; LBHK: 293). This inevitably led to the outbreak of rebellion in Chiang Mai, which was, as far as Burmese and Lan Na records observe, Hans Ulrich Vogel’s scrupulous work (1993) on the monetary exchange rates between cowry and other types of money in neighboring Yunnan is an excellent example of this kind of study. 25 The sitkè of Chiang Sæn was given rice worth 5000 bia, quite modest compared to his counterpart in Chiang Rai (TNSN: 192). 24

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the first popular uprising against the Burmese in Lan Na.26 The Burmese garrison in Chiang Mai was easily defeated, the oppressive myowun killed, and the city taken by the rebels. Soon afterward the rebel force moved up to Chiang Sæn and laid siege to the northeastern city. The Burmese garrison, outnumbered by the Chiang Mai rebels, fled Chiang Sæn, leaving behind the city residents, who continued to stay within the city wall, rather than opening the gate to welcome the “liberators,” their Tai Yuan compatriots. The Chiang Sæn people somehow repulsed the surrounding rebel force, and, rather surprisingly, received again the Burmese who had just deserted them (TNSN: 196). It was probably the traditional “North-South-dichotomy,” not their loyalty to the Burmese, that forced the people of Chiang Sæn to fight against the Chiang Mai rebels. However, if Burmese rule in Chiang Sæn had been really oppressive, the populace would not have accepted it again (Penth 1989: 16; McDaniel 2007: 96). As in Chiang Mai in the early 1660s when the city residents drove away the Ayutthaya troops and welcomed the Burmese who had given up retaking the city themselves, the people of Chiang Sæn preferred the alien rulers to their Tai brethren. Nga-nyo, myowun of Chiang Mai, and Lot Sang Lam (or Fa Sangkung), myowun (or generalissimo) of Chiang Sæn, both of whom oppressed the Tai Yuan, are fairly close to the Siamese image of Burmese officials as bloodsuckers and evildoers. While the latter was in office, the surveillance system of the Burmese government over its agents in the imperial periphery still functioned properly, which led to the recall of Lot Sang Lam. Decades later, when Nga-nyo was assigned the governance of Chiang Mai, the Avan court, already divided and weakened by “ministerial patronage networks,” lost administrative control over its officials who had by now only sworn allegiance to their own patrons, rather than crowns.27 However, not every Burmese governor was self-indulgent.28 Contemporary with Nga-nyo, another myowun, Bra-tha-paik, was appointed to take charge of Chiang Sæn (TNSN: 194; Ann-CMC: 281-2). Even under the corrupt, malfunctioning government, he seemed “considerate towards the people and the religion that have been entrusted to him” (Penth 1989: 15), as the TNSN lists many public festivals and religious donations made by Bra-tha-paik (195-6). It might have been his pious and generous patronage of the Religion that psychologically affected the locals in determining to expel the Chiang Mai rebels and accept the Burmese again into Chiang Sæn in the late 1720s. We shall see the details of his generous sponsorship below.

Strangely, Lan Na sources mention no motive for the insurrection, with no reference to unrestrained tax demands or ruthless oppression by the Burmese officials. 27 For the decline of Ava caused by a growing ministerial autonomy and related factors, see Lieberman (1984: chap. III). 28 McDaniel (94) argues, “Burmese commanders differed in the way they treated their subjects,” and warns that an overgeneralization of Burmese rule “removes historical agency from individual Burmese, Northern Thai . . . ” (114). 26

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Lan Na Buddhism under Burmese rule Chiang Mai without doubt was the “major site of Buddhist scholarship, especially in the early sixteenth century” (CMC: xxxi). “By the early eighteenth century,” however, “its rich cultural heritage, especially the glories of the sixteenth century, was neglected” (Wyatt 2003: 106). The negligence is easily ascribable to the Burmese, as shown below: Due to the influence of Mon-Burmese culture, ordination as novices, rather than as monks, gained a popular preference. Novices tended to leave the priesthood before being ordained as a monk, which consequently caused a decrease in the number of elder monks, who could lead Buddhist scholarship to propagate Buddha’s teachings efficiently. As a result, deterioration in Buddhist scholarship became apparent throughout the realm [of Lan Na]. Since 1558 when Chiang Mai lost its supreme lord until today, no scholars versed in the Pali language and [doctrines and scriptures of] Buddhism have emerged in Lan Na. (Sæng 1980: 146)

Whether this argument is correct cannot be ascertained, as Sæng did not mention his source, and I have yet to find any historical statistics of Lan Na monks before and after 1558. One thing certain is that Lan Na Buddhism had been influenced by the Mon tradition well before the Burmese conquest, as King Kü Na (r. 1345-55) “took a strong interest in the establishment in Lan Na of a new, ascetic, scholarly sect” and “invited the Venerable Sumana, a Sukhothai monk who had studied at Martaban in the Mon country” (Wyatt 2003: 65). The Buddhist sect Sumana established was called “Raman (Mon) School” (Sarassawadee 2005: 75), as he had been ordained and studied in the Mon country, and “became the leading intellectual and cultural force in the kingdom over the next two or three centuries” (Wyatt 2003: 65). It seems necessary to examine, without intellectual and cultural prejudice, how Lan Na Buddhism was transformed during the 200-year Burmese rule, before blaming the Burmese for damage and evil, “regardless of what that nation is or does” (Thongchai 1998: 166). By “its rich cultural heritage, especially the glories of the sixteenth century,” Wyatt most likely means the series of fine Buddhist literary works in Pali produced by informed, educated monks of Lan Na.29 However, argues McDaniel, “although there was a decline in Pali composition during the Burmese period” (2007: 104), “the decline . . . seemed to be happening twenty years before the Burmese invasion” (106). Meanwhile, “vernacular manuscript composition increase(d) in the region under the Burmese” (109).30 As McDaniel has already thoroughly analyzed the For the list of the works, see Sarassawadee (2005: 82). In addition, another Lan Na Buddhist literary tradition, the writing of the Jātaka tales (stories of the former lives of the Buddha) continued until the mid-17th century, nearly a half century after the Burmese takeover of Lan Na. The Lan Na Jātaka was further introduced to Burma (Mani 1982:

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internal factors that caused the decline of Pali literature in Lan Na, I shall examine the external ones in the vernacularization of Buddhist manuscripts in the region. Lan Na scholarship on Pali literature was closely associated with Sri Lanka, the preeminent center of Theravada Buddhism, where many Lan Na monks hoped to be ordained and trained in the Singhalese tradition. At the time of the Burmese conquest of Lan Na in 1558, Sri Lanka was in the “crisis of the sixteenth century” (De Silva 1981: 110-12), which began with the landing of the Portuguese on the island and ended with their dominance over the coastal areas. These Portuguese “in their zeal for proselytisation ... ruthlessly destroyed Buddhist and Hindu temples” (127). Not only the Portuguese, the Singhalese king Rajasimha31 “persecuted Buddhism” (Gombrich 1991: 167). And “throughout much of the eighteenth century [must be a misprint for the seventeenth century from the context] ... Buddhism was in a state of debility, worn out and almost moribund, to the extent that valid ordination of bhikkhus was a perennial problem” (De Silva 1981: 201). Thus by the mid-18th century “there were no true monks left in Ceylon” (Gombrich 1991: 167). King Sri Vijaya Rajasimha sent three missions to Ayutthaya in the mid-18th century to ask for senior monks who were to properly ordain the Singhalese counterparts (De Silva 1981: 155, 202). These centuries were truly a “dark age” of the island, long revered by Southeast Asian Buddhists as the sacred place, whither Lan Na monks had once traveled for ordination and study of Pali scriptures. The demise of the great, probably the greatest, Buddhist tradition which the Lan Na Sangha had faithfully followed for centuries must have played a role, if not been decisive, in the demise of Pali learning in Lan Na. The downfall of the religious authority overseas in turn promoted the domestication of Buddhism of Singhalese origins, which is symbolized by the shift in literary trend from Pali to vernacular. The emergence of vernacular textual tradition indicates, contrary to the conventional view that the 200-year period brought intellectual stagnation to the region, religious practice and learning were still active under Burmese rule.32 There is certainly no indication of extinction of senior Lan Na monks entitled to perform proper ordination, hence no invitation to Burmese or Siamese monks for reordination of their Tai Yuan counterparts. 13; Likhit 1983-84: 97). 31 According to Gombrich, Rajasimha’s regnal years were 1580-91, while De Silva tells he reigned until 1593. 32 For example, Wat Lai Hin, famous for the “second largest collection of palm-leaf manuscripts in all of Northern Thailand,” was “founded in 1693 and had its period of greatest intellectual activity in the late seventeenth century and the early eighteenth century” (McDaniel 2007: 87). In the monastery is a chapel that is “built in the Northern Thai style. The entire building is decorated with fine and beautiful patterns and figures. The gable [of the roof] and the arch of the entrance gate . . . are [the representation of] the craftsmanship of Lampang in the twenty-third century [i.e. the Buddhist century, roughly 1650-1750]” (Lampang: 101). Thus, not only the tradition of Buddhist learning and practice, but the architectural style of Lan Na was also preserved under Burmese rule. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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The Burmese are also blamed for their lack of support for Buddhism.33 However, King Thalun established several temples in Chiang Mai and Chiang Sæn, and had the Lamphun Reliquary gilded (SMK V: 146; Latdawal 2002: 129-30), and other chronicle and epigraphic evidence also “point(s) to a Burmese patronage of Buddhism” (McDaniel 2007: 98n). Meanwhile Bra-tha-paik, myowun of Chiang Sæn, was a good sponsor of the local Sangha. He sponsored several monastic buildings, and took charge of appointing maha sangharajas, supreme leaders of the Buddhist order in Chiang Sæn (TNSN: 195-6; Penth 1989: 15-6).34 Furthermore, the Chiang Sæn myowun “commissioned a number of bronze Buddha images” (McDaniel 2007: 96). One of the images was installed in a monastery, “which was built on the place where he [deceased son of the former Chiang Sæn lord] was cremated” (Penth 1989: 17; LI pt. I, vol. I: 20-1).35 This Buddha image (and the other bronzes commissioned by Bra-tha-paik also) bears inscriptions written in the language and script of Lan Na, which attests that the Burmese ruler, rather than imposing the Burmese style of Buddhism, honored local Buddhist practices. From the available records, then, it is safely concluded, “the Burmese followed local customs in relation to the donation of slaves to temples” and “the organization of the sangha also remained unchanged” (Sarassawadee 2005: 116). By no means was the Lan Na Sangha worn out or moribund during the Burmese era. Not only Buddhist literature, the secular one, the tradition of poetry writing, was also maintained during the 200-year period. A poetical form called khlong survived well after the mid-18th century (Phannpen and Phaithun 2001: 42). A khlong called Nirat Dòikœng, written in 1708, is a fine piece worthy of note, which modeled itself on Nirat Hariphunchai, “the paragon of Siamese literature” (Udom 2003: 486), tentatively dated to the second half of the 16th century (Phannpen and Phaithun 2001: 19). The early 18th century poem clearly reflects the influence from the best classic written over two hundred years earlier (Udom 2003: 486), a visible representation of the long tradition of Lan Na poetry. Nirat Dòikœng is about a fourteen-day journey from Lampang to the Dòikœng Reliquary, during which the poet “depicts the beauty of nature and his yearning for his beloved” (19). During the long-distance journey, Sarassawadee remarks (2005: 116), “There are far fewer stone inscriptions that record support of Buddhism during Burmese rule than there are during the Mangrai dynasty.” However, the decrease in the number of inscriptions does not necessarily mean a decline in religious support. In Burma, “the tradition of lithic inscriptions . . . apparently began to die out in the late fifteenth century, as . . . ephemeral writing materials became more popular. Compared to over thirteen hundred inscriptions dated prior to 1550 A.D., barely sixty from 1580 to 1760 are available” (Lieberman 1984: 294). In Lan Na too, paper and palm-leaves must have replaced the lithic material for keeping religious records. 34 He also organized several public festivals, including a rocket ceremony and a “verbal contest between girls paddling boats on the Mekong, which was a great event” (Penth 1989: 15). 35 The son’s name is Phra Yòt Ngam Müang, who, according to the TNSN (195), succeeded his father, Caofa Lakthi, as lord of Chiang Sæn in 1724. The English text of the LI (pt. I, vol. I: 265) renders him a son of Bra-tha-paik, while their parentage is unclear in Penth’s translation. 33

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the poet seems to have enjoyed free movement, without showing a pass to either the Burmese authorities or native officials at their posts. Meanwhile, people in Burma at the time were “required . . . to obtain a pass from their headman if they wanted to leave the village even temporarily” (Lieberman 1984: 104).36 When he reached the final destination, the poet, to quote a line, “observes the environs of the Reliquary, which is dazzlingly glittering in the land of Lan Na that is grand” (Udom 2003: 393). In the eyes of the poet, a “dark age” did not befall Lan Na.

Lan Na economy under Burmese rule As “Lan Na” literally means “One Million Rice Fields,” much emphasis has been placed on the agrarian aspects of the Lan Na economy. This consequently produced another myth in the historiography of Lan Na: “the myth of the subsistence economy” (Bowie 1992). However, while agriculture was certainly the economic basis of Lan Na, commerce had also been vital to the kingdom since its foundation. In 1274 King Mangrai, the dynastic founder, “was visited by a party of merchants from Hariphuñjaya [modern-day Lamphun]” (Wyatt 2003: 34), and one of them testified: Traders of all countries frequent it [Hariphuñjaya] both by land and by water to trade. By water, one can reach Yodhiya [Ayutthaya], and traders from there come. In trade, the people of the domain are very prosperous.37 (CMC: 19)

Mangrai thus decided to take the flourishing Mon principality, which would result in the foundation of the city of Chiang Mai in 1296. Although the testimony only refers to the trade with Ayutthaya, Hariphuñjaya also maintained its commercial relationship with the coastal cities of Lower Burma open to maritime trade on the Bay of Bengal. Therefore, the famous Kalyani Inscriptions established at Pegu in 1476 by a Mon king list “‘handicrafts from as far off as Haribhunja [sic] being sent to Ceylon’” (Lieberman 1984: 28n).38 Also, according to the early 16th century account, “‘damasks, satins, brocades, white cloths from Bengal’” were probably imported to Chiang Mai (Pires 1944, I: 111, quoted in Lieberman 1984: 28n). As already seen above, under Burmese rule commercial activity in Lan Na shows no sign of decline. Chiang Mai in the 1580s was a prosperous city which many Chinese merchants frequented with “great store of Muske, Gold, Silver, and many other things of China worke” (Fitch 1905: 195), and even agents of the English East India Company visited the city in the hope of conducting trade in 1612 (Farrington and Dhiravat 2007: 257; Nantha 1970: 58, 69). King Anauk-hpet-lun, even in the In early 18th century Lower Burma, “not a single person can go from one village into another without a paper or writing” (Manucci 1906, I: 373, quoted in Lieberman 1984: 104n). 37 Just to note, the conventional dating of the foundation of Ayutthaya is 1351. 38 Not only to Lower Burma, there was a trade route to Upper Burma from Chiang Mai (CMC: 69). 36

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aftermath of the conquest of Lan Na, kept a market open at Hòt on the southern fringe of Lan Na, where “Ayutthaya merchants come by boat for trade at a market open throughout the day every day,” and “groups of the Chiang Mai people also visit and enjoy buying and selling, [as a result of which] some become rich” (KMRC: 59). Meanwhile, a commercial channel between Lan Na and Lower Burma entrepots was certainly kept open by the Nyaungyan dynasts, through which Chiang Mai, as “exempted from taxes and all manner of duties” by King Pyè due to the devastating Siamese attack in the early 1660s, ordered a large volume of Indian textiles, thereby allowing the Dutch “to sell off most of their Burma remnants” (Dijk 2006: 104). The image of the Tai Yuan miserably dressed in rags under Burmese rule is probably wrong. The imported fabrics from India had long been basic attire donned by the people of Lan Na, or at least of Chiang Mai, who could send many orders for the textiles even within a year or so after a mass deportation of the local nobility with much treasure to Ayutthaya. The Burmese regime, if not very supportive of “freetrade,” had not been so obstructive to commercial activities until 1718 when a new myowun was appointed to take charge of Chiang Mai. A decade later Chiang Mai residents rose up against the governor and his deputy, the first popular uprising against Burmese rulers recorded both by Lan Na and Burmese materials since 1558. One of the motives for the rising was high customs duty (HMN: 362; Lieberman 1984: 204), which was surely obstructive to trade.

Conclusion For modern states to properly and securely exist, “the monopoly of legitimate education is now more important, more central than is the monopoly of legitimate violence” (Gellner 1983: 34). The primary subjects of that education are not chemistry or geometry but history and geography (i.e. a study of the mapped nations).39 But a national history taught in classrooms across the nation is a collection of seemingly factual pieces that historians “choose, sever, and carve . . . up,” as a result of which “very much more is left out than is put in” (Levi-Strauss 1966: 275). These intellectual, ideological interpretations and selections would develop into what Ernest Renan calls (1992[1882]) “collective remembering” and “collective forgetting,” which are the “essence of nationhood” (Gellner 1997: 46). This article has examined what is remembered (probably erroneously) and forgotten (hopefully unintentionally) As standardized mass education throughout the country requires linguistic standardization, the Bangkok regime “ordered that everything written in ‘minority’ languages and alphabets be burnt” (CMC: xxxi). For the loss of (literally uncountable) northern Thai manuscripts, Tai historians cannot blame the Burmese. Likewise, traditional Buddhist practices in Lan Na were brought to an end by the Bangkok government that enforced a religious unification of the country under a single authority (Sarassawadee 2005: 212-3). These are the issues not completely forgotten but less well remembered by the Thai. 39

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in the historiography of Lan Na: oppressive rule by the demonized Burmese and pleasant and happy lives enjoyed by the masses under that rule. In other words, it has attempted to present “the Past as it really was to those who lived in that past” (Wyatt 1999: 264; italics original), not the past interpreted (or “invented”) by those who live in the present. For a nation to be born, rites of passage, especially the bloody and heroic, if not genuine, ones are essential. The most favored rites in the Thai historiography are the “wars of national independence” (Sunait 2000: 56), notably the “history of ‘Thai rop phama’ (The Thai fought Burma),” which is “the most powerful and effective theme of Thai history” (Thongchai 1998: 163).40 In the narrative of the war of emancipation the demonized Burmese serve as the significant “Other” to define the “Un-Thainess,” the existence of which is “as necessary as the positive definition of Thainess” and is actually “indispensable to the latter” (6). As the anti-Burmese war was mostly fought by the allied forces of Bangkok and Lan Na throughout the late 18th and early 19th century, the history of “Thai rop phama” gives a shared, indispensable historical experience and memory to the Siamese and Tai Yuan, whereby they could imagine they “share the same enemy and have always been part of the same nation” (McDaniel 2007: 111). Although Prince Damrong Rachanubhab, the “father of modern Thai historical scholarship” (Sunait 2000: 56), and others believed that the union of the Siamese and Tai Yuan was naturally accomplished because both were chat Thai, the Thai nation (Damrong 2002: 450-51; Prisna 1973: 89), it is not really the case.41 In the early 20th century the Lan Na people still “felt little in common with the Siamese, who felt likewise about their northern neighbors” (Sarassawadee 2005: 210). The Central Thai were culturally and linguistically remote from the Tai Yuan, whom they called “Lao” in the past, finding little difference between the two Tai brethrens. Now the Lao, i.e. the dominant Tai-speaking group of a state called Laos, have been ranked in the top-three nations most hated by the Siamese (Thongchai 1998: 168), while the image of the Thai in Lao perception should be negative, definitely more negative than that of the Burmese, due to the total destruction of Vientiane in 1827 and subsequent mass deportation of its inhabitants by the Siamese army.42 If the unification of the Thai and Yuan in the 1770s was natural because both belonged to the “same nation,” why the one between the Siamese and Lao (not including the Yuan) has never taken Sunait describes (1992: 96) Thai rop phama as “one of the most influential historical works, responsible for popularizing the image of the Burmese as an enemy of the Thai nation. . . . It casts a long shadow over later historical writing, especially textbooks written for Thai schools and colleges.” Through its English translation, this classic work has influenced Western historians too. 41 McDaniel strongly argues (88n): “There was no natural or “Thai” allegiance between the Siamese (Thai) and Northern Thai.” 42 Scholars of Lao history, commenting on the fall of the Lao capital, claim that “this genocide of an entire people remained a veritable nightmare for its few survivors” (Mayoury and Pheuiphanh 1998: 60, quoted in Grabowsky and Turton 2003: 12). 40

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place is indeed an interesting, though quite reasonable, question to ask. Asking that question will reveal that history really is “one of the most significant instruments in the identification of Thai nationhood” (163), and how “powerful and effective” the demoniac otherness of the Burmese is in that identification. As a century has elapsed since Lan Na was administratively integrated into the Siamese state centered at Bangkok, it is about time to consider “rescuing history of Lan Na from the nation.” The 200-year period, as I have stated at the beginning, neatly corresponded to the “early modern” era, during which “the upland interstices” such as Lan Na were “involved in the same sorts of global transformations as the major empires” (Wyatt 1999: 264-5). Not in the paradigm of “dark age,” but in the global context of the early modern period, should the era of Burmese rule in Lan Na be placed and discussed.43 Truly, as McDaniel concludes: “A reassessment of Northern Thai history needs to begin.”

Abbreviations Ann-CMC Ken Kirigaya. “Some Annotations to The Chiang Mai Chronicle” CMC David K. Wyatt and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo, trans. The Chiang Mai Chronicle HMN Hmannan Mahayazawindawgyi KBZ Konbaung-zet Mahayazawindawgyi KMRC Singkha Wannasai, trans. Khlong Rüang Mangthra Rop Chiang Mai LBHK Thiri Uzana. Lawkabyahakyan LI Prasert Na Nagara, et al., eds. Lan Na Inscriptions. LNCH Liew-Herres Foon Ming and Volker Grabowsky. Lan Na in Chinese Historiography: Sino-Tai Relations as Reflected in the Yuan and Ming Sources SMK Burma, Department of Archaeology. She Haung Myanma Kyauksa Mya TNSN Tamnan Singhanawat UK U Kala. Mahayazawingyi

References Aung-Thwin, Michael A. 1998. Myth and History in the Historiography of Early Burma: Paradigms, Primary Sources, and Prejudices. Ohio: Ohio University, Center for International Studies. Bowie, Katherine A. 1992. “Unraveling the Myth of the Subsistence Economy: As Wil Dijk has partially demonstrated, archival research of the VOC materials will make an important contribution to the study of “early modern” Lan Na. 43

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Textile Production in Nineteenth-Century Northern Thailand.” Journal of Asian Studies 51 (4): 797-823. Burma, Department of Archaeology. 1972-87. Shehaung Myanma Kyauksamya [Ancient Burmese inscriptions]. 5 vols. Rangoon: Department of Archaeology. Damrong Rajanuphap. 2002 (1920). Phongsawadan Rüang Thai Rop Phama [Chronicle of Thai Wars with Burma]. 2nd ed. Bangkok: Matichon. De Silva, K. M. 1981. A History of Sri Lanka. Berkeley: University of California Press. Dijk, Wil O. 2006. Seventeenth-century Burma and the Dutch East India Company, 1634-1680. Singapore: Singapore University Press. Duara, Prasenjit. 1995. Rescuing History from the Nation: Questioning Narratives of Modern China. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Farrington, Anthony, and Dhiravat na Pombejra, eds. 2007. The English Factory in Siam: 1612-1685. 2 vols. London: The British Library. Fitch, Ralph. 1905. “The Voyage of Master Ralph Fitch Merchant of London . . . Begun in the Yeere of Our Lord 1583 and Ended 1591.” In Hakluytus Posthumus or Purchas His Pilgrimes, vol. X, edited by Samuel Purchas, 165-204. Glasgow: Hakluyt Society. Gombrich, Richard F. 1991(1988). Theravada Buddhism: A Social History from Ancient Benares to Modern Colombo. Reprint. London: Routledge. Gellner, Ernest. 1983. Nations and Nationalism. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. ____. 1997. Nationalism. New York: New York University Press. Grabowsky, Volker and Andrew Turton. 2003. The Gold and Silver Road of Trade and Friendship: The McLeod and Richardson Diplomatic Missions to Tai States in 1837. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Hmannan Mahayazawindawgyi [The Glass Palace Great Royal Chronicle]. 1967. 3 vols. Rangoon: Pyigyi Mandaing Press. Kala, U. 1960. Mahayazawingyi [Great Royal Chronicle]. 3 vols. Rangoon: Hanthawaddy. Kirigaya, Ken. 2014. “Some Annotations to The Chiang Mai Chronicle: The Era of Burmese Rule in Lan Na.” Journal of the Siam Society 102: 257-290. Konbaung-zet Maha-yaza-win-daw-gyi [The Royal Chronicle of the Konbaung Dynasty]. Vol. I. 1989 (1922). Reprint. Rangoon: Aung-mithasu sapei. Lampang nai Phongsawadan Thai Thin Nüa [Lampang in the History of Northern Thailand]. n.d. Edited by Samnakngan Prachasanphan Cangwat Lampang [Lampang Prefecture, Office of Public Relations]. Lampang: Citwatnakanphim. Latdawal Sæsiao. 2002. 200 Pi: Phama nai Lan Na [200 Years: Burma in Lan Na]. Bangkok: Tenmay. Leur, J.C. van. 1983 (1955). Indonesian Trade and Society: Essays in Asian Social Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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and Economic History. Reprint. Cinnaminson: Foris Publications. Levi-Strauss, Claude. 1966. The Savage Mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lieberman, Victor B. 1984. Burmese Administrative Cycles: Anarchy and Conquest, c. 1580-1760. Princeton. Princeton University Press. ____. 2003. Strange Parallels: Southeast Asia in Global Context, c. 800-1830. Volume1: Integration on the Mainland. Cambridge University Press. Liew-Herres, Foon Ming and Volker Grabowsky, in collaboration with Aroonrut Wichienkeeo. 2008. Lan Na in Chinese Historiography: Sino-Tai Relations as Reflected in the Yuan and Ming Sources. Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University, Institute of Asian Studies. Likhit Likhitanon. 1983-84. “Yukthòng hæng Wannakam Phuttasasana khòng Lan Na Thai [The Golden Age of Buddhist Literature of Lan Na].” In Lan Na Thai, 84-101. Chiang Mai: Thipnetrakanphim. Mani Phayomyong. 1982. Prawat læ Wannakhadi Lan Na [History and Literature of Lan Na]. Bangkok: Khurusapha. McDaniel, Justin. 2007. “Two Bullets in a Balustrade: How the Burmese Have Been Removed from Northern Thai Buddhist History.” Journal of Burma Studies 11: 85-126. Nantha Sutkul, trans. 1970. Ekasan khong Holanda samai Krung Si Ayutthaya [Dutch Records in the Ayutthaya Period]. Bangkok: Department of Fine Arts. Peltier, Anatole. 1983-84. “Khwamsamphan rawang Lan Na kap Lan Chang nai Danwannakam [Relationship between Lan Na and Lan Sang in the field of Literature].” In Lan Na Thai, 149-56. Chiang Mai: Thipnetrakanphim. Penth, Hans. 1989. “On the History of Chiang Rai.” Journal of the Siam Society 77: 11-32. Phannphen Khrüathai and Phaithura Dokbuakæo. 2001. Laksana Khlong Lan Na [Characteristics of Lan Na Poetry]. Chiang Mai: Social Research Institute, Chiang Mai University. Pires, Tomé. 1944. The Suma Oriental of Tomé Pires. Translated and Edited by Armando Cortesão. London: Hakluyt Society. Prasert Na Nagara, et al., eds. 1991-2008. Lan Na Inscriptions. 4 vols. Bangkok: Amarin. Prisna Sirinam. 1973. Khwamsamphan rawang Thai læ Prathetrat nai Hua Müang Lanna Thai samai Ratanakosin tonton [Relations between Siam and the Tributary States in Lanna Thai during the Early Bangkok Period]. M.A. thesis: The College of Education. Renan, Ernest. 1992 (1882). Qu’est-ce qu’une nation? Paris: Presses Pocket. Sarassawadee Ongsakul. 1996 (1986). Prawattisat Lan Na [History of Lan Na]. 2nd ed. Bangkok: Amarin. ____. 2003. Phün Müang Chiang Sæn [Chronicle of Chiang Sæn]. Bangkok: Amarin. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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____. 2005. History of Lan Na. Translated by Chitraporn Tanratanakul. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Sæng Canthangam. 1980. “Sasana nai Lan Na Thai [Religion in Lan Na].” In Phutta Sasana nai Lan Na Thai [Buddhism in Lan Na], 132-151. Compilation of Papers Presented at the 13th Conference of Universal Buddhist Association, held in Chiang Mai, on 24-29 November. Singkha Wannasai, tr. 1979. Khlong Rüang Mangthra Rop Chiang Mai [Verse of the Burmese Monarch Waging War on Chiang Mai]. Chiang Mai: Nang Kimhò Nimmanhemin. Sunait Chutintharanon. 1992. “The Image of the Burmese Enemy in Thai Perceptions and Historical Writings.” Journal of the Siam Society 80(1): 89-103. ____. 2000. “Historical Writings, Historical Novels and Period Movies and Dramas: An Observation Concerning Burma in Thai Perception and Understanding.” Journal of the Siam Society 88: 53-57. Tamnan Singhanawat [History of Singhanawat]. 1973. In Prachum Phongsawadan [Collected Chronicles], vol. 61, 53-197. Chiang Mai: Crem. Phontaricaoratchabut. Thiri Uzana. 1958 (2001). Lawkabyuhakyan [Treatise on Customary Terms]. 3rd ed. Rangoon: Tekkathomya Press. Thongchai Winichakul. 1998 (1994). Siam Mapped: A History of the Geo-body of a Nation. Reprint. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Udom Rungrüangsri. 2003 (1983). Wannakam Lan Na [Literary Works of Lan Na]. 2nd ed. Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University. Usanee Thongchai. 1983. Khwamsamphan rawang Ayutthaya læ Lan Na Thai p.s.18392310 [Ayudhya-Lanna Relations 1296-1767]. M.A. thesis: Chulalongkorn University. Vickery, Michael. 1979. “Review Article: A New Tamnan about Ayudhaya.” Journal of the Siam Society, 67 (2): 123-186. Vogel, Hans Ulrich. 1993. “Cowry Trade and Its Role in the Economy of Yunnan: From the Ninth to the Mid-Seventeenth Century (Part I).” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 36 (3): 211-252. ____. 1993. “Cowry Trade and Its Role in the Economy of Yunnan: From the Ninth to the Mid-Seventeenth Century (Part II).” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 36 (3): 309-353. Wyatt, David K. 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. Ann Arbor: Michigan University Press. ____. 2003(1982). Thailand: A Short History. 2nd ed. New Haven: Yale University Press. Wyatt, David K. and Aroonrut Wichienkeeo, trans. 1998 (1995). The Chiang Mai Chronicle. 2nd ed. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

Review Articles: Lost Kingdoms

Piriya Krairiksh and John Listopad review an outstanding exhibition and catalogue Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia by John Guy (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art; Bangkok: River Books, 2014). ISBN: 9781-58839-524-5 (Metropolitan Museum of Art), ISBN: 978-616-7339-48-1 (River Books), ISBN 978-0-300-20437-7 (Yale University Press). 2,500 Baht/US$65. This catalog was published in conjunction with the exhibition of the same name at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, from April 14 through July 27, 2014. John Guy, Florence and Herbert Irving Curator of the Arts of South and Southeast Asia at the Met, who initiated, undertook and oversaw the exhibition as well as the accompanying volume, must be highly congratulated for having accomplished this Herculean task with such success. He cannot be praised too highly for having brought under one roof some of the finest pieces of sculpture ever created in Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Southeast Asia. Even though most of the sculptures in the exhibition were selected for their superlative artistic quality, they were also chosen to illustrate art historical compatibility. For the sake of brevity only the outstanding pieces will be mentioned here. It was a surprise to be confronted with so many choice treasures from Śrī Ksetra. Foremost among them are the Throne Stele (CAT.12) in the National Museum of Myanmar, Yangon, and the Vikrama dynasty Buddha in Meditation (CAT.41) in the Thiri Khittaya (Śrī Ksetra) Archaeological Museum. Although the piece de résistance, the inscribed reliquary excavated at the Khin Ba mound (CAT.27) failed to materialize, having been deemed too fragile to travel, other treasures from this hoard are well represented including the Relic-Chamber Cover (CAT.26), a selection of stūpa deposits (CAT.28-31) as well as the terracotta relief depicting Prince Temiya from the Mughapakkha Jātaka (CAT.32). The National Museum of Cambodia sent some of its best known preAngkorian pieces. Most impressive are Buddha Offering Protection from Angkor Borei (CAT.43), a Krsna Govardhana from Phnom Da, Angkor Borei (CAT.72), that is matched by the equally spectacular Krsna Govardhana now in the Cleveland Museum of Art (CAT.73), whose original provenance was Phnom Da as well. Other masterpieces from the National Museum of Cambodia include Visnu from Prasat Rup Arak, Phnom Kulen (CAT.79) which is considered “a masterpiece of this period”, a rare image of Śiva as an Ascetic from Kampong Cham Kau, Stung Treng province (CAT.96), an image of the horse-headed Kalkin (CAT.74), an elephantheaded Ganeśa (CAT.99), both of which were discovered together in the region of Phnom Da, a ravishing figure of Devī from Koh Krieng (CAT.94), and a voluptuous Durgā Mahisāsuramardinī from Prey Veng province (CAT.66) as well as a door lintel depicting Visnu Anantaśāyin and the Birth of Brahmā from Wat Po Veal, Tuol Baset (CAT.75), that is compared to a tympanum depicting the same subject from Temple E1 at My Son (CAT.76) in the Museum of Cham Sculpture, Danang. The Museum of Cham Sculpture, Danang, is one of the Vietnamese museums that contributed some of their finest pieces to the exhibition. It dispatched an early Yaksa figure from Tra Kieu (CAT.15), a superb image of Ganeśa from Temple E5 at My Son (CAT.100), and an equally impressive Enthroned Planetary Deity from the Buddhist Monastery at Dong Duong (CAT.156) that is matched by a companion piece from the same site now in the Cleveland Museum of Art (CAT.155). The National Museum of Vietnamese History, Ho Chi Minh City, sent a Visnu wearing an ankle-length waist cloth, “the only surviving bronze Visnu image in this style” from Tan Hoi, An Giang province (CAT.61) that is paired with a stone counterpart excavated in Dong Thap province (CAT.59) in the Dong Thap Province Museum, Cao Lanh. From the same museum came two renowned Buddha images from Tra Vinh province: one seated in meditation found in Phnom Cangek (CAT.47) and the other an Enthroned Buddha from Son Tho (CAT.108). Less well known is a rare image of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara complete with its support in the form Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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of an arch from the same province (CAT.134) and two Cham bronze Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara: one from Quang Binh province (CAT.169) and the other from Binh Dinh province (CAT.170). The Bangkok National Museum dispatched a selection of important pieces, among them two types of stone images of Visnu: one wearing a long garment from Si Mahosot (CAT.60), the other wearing a brief loincloth from Si Thep (CAT.71); and a Sūrya (CAT.70), also from Si Thep, that compares favorably with a fine example from Ba The (Oc Eo) in the National Museum of Vietnamese History (CAT.68). It also sent a trove of Buddha images led by a superb specimen from Wat Na Phra Men, Ayutthaya (CAT.117), whose head graces the cover of this book, followed by a terracotta head discovered at Nakhon Pathom (CAT.118), whose serene beauty gave the name Wat Phra Ngam (Monastery of the Beautiful Buddha) to the mound from which it was found. Two heads of masterly workmanship show the contrasting styles of the Mon Buddha’s physiognomy: one sharp and lineal from Ayutthaya (CAT.115) and the other curvaceous from Wat Mahathat, Ratchaburi (CAT.116). Among them is an image of Buddha Calling the Earth to Witness, the iconography of which is rare for the period, from Buriram province (CAT.113), and three steles: one depicts the Twin Miracles at Śrāvasti (CAT.126), another shows a Buddha in Meditation under a Seven-Headed Nāga flanked by stūpas (CAT.111), which is paired with another one showing a Buddha in Meditation flanked by stūpas from the National Museum, Prachinburi (CAT.112). Apart from stone Buddhas, it also sent three of its finest bronze images: an Enthroned Buddha Vairocana (CAT.163), an Eight-Armed Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (CAT.166) and Bodhisattva Lokanātha (Avalokiteśvara) Granting Boons (CAT.167). Then come the terracotta favorites from Khu Bua, Ratchaburi province: an Enthroned Buddha Preaching (CAT.110), Head of a Crowned Bodhisattva (CAT.146) and a standing Bodhisattva (CAT.147). Stucco is represented by a crisply modeled Head of a Male Divinity (CAT.150) from Nakhon Pathom. A clay impression Depicting a Ship at Sea from the 4th-5th century (CAT.1) and a sealing Depicting Heavenly Palaces from Phatthalung province (CAT.154) round up the Bangkok Museum contributions. Thailand’s provincial museums also contributed their finest pieces. Chaiya sent its chef-d’oeuvre, Buddha in Meditation (CAT.42). Nakhon Si Thammarat lent its outstanding bronze Torso of Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (CAT.6), which is paired with its counterpart from Andhra Pradesh in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (CAT.7). U Thong dispatched a historic local find, a copper Coin from the Reign of Roman Emperor Victorinus, 269-271, an Antefix with Head of Śiva (CAT.106), which is shown together with an Antefix with a Male Head from An Giang province in the National Museum of Vietnamese History, Ho Chi Minh City (CAT.107), and a superb bronze Buddha Teaching with the hands in the double expository gesture (vitarkamudrā) (CAT.119). Phra Pathom Chedi National Museum sent among others a fine example of a Dharmacakra (Wheel of the Law) (CAT.123), three stucco reliefs Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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from the Chula Pathon Chedi: an Assembly of Noblemen (CAT.151), a Kubera (CAT.152), whose head adorns the book’s back cover, and a Kinnara (CAT.153), as well as a stucco Lion Guardian (CAT.128). Muzium Negara, Kuala Lumpur, sent its undisputed masterpiece, “the single most important multi-armed sculpture of Avalokiteśvara from the region to have survived” from Bidor, Perak, the Bodhisattva Amoghapāśa (Avalokiteśvara) (CAT.157). The Asian Civilisations Museum, Singapore, contributed the pride of its collection, Buddha Granting Boons from Bujang Valley, Kedah (CAT.20). Musée National des Arts Asiatiques-Guimet, Paris, lent its inscribed image of Buddha Preaching from Tuol Preah That, Kampong Speu province (CAT.44), two images of Visnu from the 9th century: one Cham Visnu Mounted on Garuda found in Danang province (CAT.78), another Khmer found in Siem Reap province (CAT.79), a Devī from Koh Krieng, Kratie province (CAT.95),and a Skanda, god of war, from Prei Veng province (CAT.98), that is compared to a Skanda from Kampong Cham province in the National Museum of Cambodia (CAT.97). The veritable masterpieces of the Guimet’s assignments are the stone Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara from Rach Gia (Tan Long), Soc Trang province (CAT.137) and the bronze Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara from Central Java (CAT.161). The above list does not include sculptures on loan from museums in the United States, which together with the loan pieces gave the exhibition a comprehensive view of artistic achievements in Southeast Asia from the 6th to the 8th century that no other museum could emulate. This reviewer could not agree more with the New York Times reviewer who wrote that “when the Metropolitan of Art gives its all to an exhibition in terms of space, money and scholarship, and the art involved is as rich as a massed chorale and as haunting as a single-voice chant, no institution on earth can produce more impressive results”. Furthermore, “projects like this, which entail the shipping of big and preposterously fragile things cost a mint. For that reason alone, the chance of anything like a reprise within a generation is pretty much nil” (Cotter 2014). In view of this the accompanying catalog is invaluable to lovers of Southeast Asian Art who did not have the opportunity to attend the exhibition. The exhibits were arranged in chronological order, beginning with imported objects which became models for locally made artifacts, followed by sculpture representing indigenous nature cults which facilitated the assimilation of Indic religions, then early Buddhist icons and their regional variations, ending with images of Hindu gods in their different manifestations. The catalog, on the other hand, “is organized thematically to draw out the major narratives that shaped the region’s distinct cultural identities, notably the importation and integration of Indian religions, the role of Brahmanical cults, the emergence of state sponsorship and the role of savior cults” (Guy 2014, IX). The catalog is divided into five chapters, each corresponding to the dominant themes of the exhibition: I. Lost Kingdoms; II. Emerging Identities; III. The Brahmanical World; IV. State Art; and V. Savior Cults. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Each chapter contains short articles written by prominent scholars in the field linking the exhibits to the key themes and providing contextual backgrounds for the objects. To integrate the exhibits with the themes of the exhibition a catalog of the exhibits, written by the curator, is appended to each chapter. The first chapter “Lost Kingdoms” contains four articles, two by the curator. The first “Introducing Early Southeast Asia” discusses the different interpretations of “Indianization”, the transmission of Indian religious imagery and the introduction of Brahmanism and Buddhism to Suvarnabhūmi “Land of Gold” or Suvarnadvīpa “Island of Gold”, as well as influences of Indic languages and South Indian scripts in Southeast Asia. The second article, “Principal Kingdoms of Early Southeast Asia”, enumerates different city-states and polities that existed during that period. “Southeast Asia and the Early Maritime Silk Road” by Bérénice Bellina emphasizes pre-existing trade exchanges within Southeast Asia from the mid-1st millennium B.C. before the process of “Indianization”. Geoff Wade’s “Beyond the Southern Borders: Southeast Asia in Chinese Texts to the Ninth Century” gives a synopsis of Chinese historical records pertaining to Southeast Asia. Although progress has been made in identifying Chinese place names with specific locations, this reviewer remains doubtful where Dvāravatī was located, since Si Thep has as much a claim as Nakhom Pathom. For Xuanzang’s direction, archaeological evidence at Si Thep and the discovery of an inscription found in Nakhon Ratchasima province seriously demand a reevaluation of the matter. The fact that a number of silver medals were found at Nakhon Pathom, U Thong and In Buri bearing a Sanskrit text, “meritorious deed of the ruler of Dvāravatī”, does not prove that his kingdom was located there. But a king from a neighboring kingdom, called Dvāravatī, might have chosen to make his merit there. If Dvāravatī were to have been located at Si Thep, then the polities named in Chinese texts as being south of Dvāravatī would have to be realigned accordingly. The catalog entries, entitled “Indian Imports” and “Nature Cults” conclude the first chapter. Pamela Gutman and Bob Hudson convincingly identify the central figure on the reverse of the Throne Stele from Śrī Ksetra (CAT.12) as VāsudevaKrsna of the Bhāgavata cult, which was the earliest Brahmanical cult to penetrate Southeast Asia, and propose a date around the end of the 1st century for the stele (Gutman and Hudson 2012-2013, 17-46), three centuries earlier than that given in the catalog. As for Lotus Base with Squatting Gana Figure (CAT.17) from Wat Na Phra Men, Ayutthaya, its iconography is directly inspired by Chinese sculpture, such as Śākyamuni Triad from Hua Yin, Eastern Shensi, executed during the Northern Wei dynasty (386-534) (Siren 1970, PL. 138), in which the flanking Bodhisattvas are shown standing on a lotus base supported by a squatting dwarf. Chinese influence is also detected in the anthropomorphic dragon depicted on a Lintel with Anthropomorphic Dragon in Foliage (CAT.18) where “analogous expressions of a monster-faced anthropomorph appear in funerary sculpture of the Northern Qi and Sui dynasties (6th-7th centuries)” (Guy 2014, 50). Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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The second chapter with four articles deals with “Emerging Identities” with an article on “Early Indic Inscriptions of Southeast Asia” by Arlo Griffiths who proposes that the term “Late Southern Brāhmi” be used instead of “Pallava script” to describe the form of writing found in most Southeast Asian inscriptions. Another article on inscriptions by Peter Skilling, entitled “Precious Deposits: Buddhism Seen through Inscriptions in Early Southeast Asia”, gives a survey of Buddhist inscriptions beginning in the early centuries AD, when the Sūtra on “Dependent Arising” (Prātiyasamutpāda Sūtra) was put inside reliquary caskets in India, to the 4th and 5th centuries when a condensed version known as the “Ye dharmā” formula in either Pāli or Sanskrit was inscribed on objects of veneration found throughout the region. Based on the language of the inscriptions, the author divides Southeast Asia into the Pāli zone: Myanmar and central Thailand; and the Sanskrit zone: Cambodia, Vietnam, the Malay Peninsula, Borneo and the islands of the Indonesian Archipelago. Analogous to the “Dependent Arising” stanza is the verse that expresses the principle of causation in terms of rebirth and karma that is found only in the Sanskrit zone. Since “the stanza is not known to exist in any known South Asian inscription, and its source has not been identified in any Buddhist scripture”, the reviewer proposes that the alternative is to look to East Asia for it. The author observes that although Śrī Lanka is the home of the Theravāda school, there is a scarcity of Pāli language inscriptions. “In term of geography, Śrī Lanka falls into the Sanskrit zone.” This chapter also contains two articles on art and civilization: one by U Thein Lwin, U Win Kyaing, and Janice Stargardt on “The Pyu Civilization of Myanmar and the City of Śrī Ksetra” and the other on “Early Cham Art: Indigenous Styles and Regional Connections” by Pierre Baptiste. The former gives a comprehensive history of Śrī Ksetra, gleaned from a diverse field of advanced archaeological research, which is divided into an Early-Phase Śrī Ksetra, 2nd century BC to 4th century AD, into which the Throne Stele (CAT.12) would have to be placed on account of Gutman’s and Hudson’s research; Phase I of Pyu Buddhism at Śrī Ksetra, 4th to 6th century, where the Khinba mound hoard belongs (CAT.26-32); and Phase II of Buddhist Culture at Śrī Ksetra, 7th to 9th century, which saw the development of stone sculpture of Buddha, such as the Vikrama dynasty Buddha in Meditation (CAT.41). Pierre Baptiste supplies a background to Early Cham sculpture, such as the Yaksa from Tra Kieu (CAT.15), the Nāga Protected Deity found at Temple G1, My Son, now lost, whose chignon is similar to that of Śiva of Kampong Cham Kau (CAT.96), and the standing Ganeśa from Temple E5 at My Son. The catalog appended to the second chapter is entitled “Arrival of Buddhism”. In view of the possible existence of Sanskrit Buddhism in Myanmar (Ray 1936, 19-24), might the terra cotta relief depicting Prince Temiya from the Mughapakkha Jātaka (CAT.32) be identified as King Śibi whose flesh is being scraped and hacked off in exchange for a dove from a Sanskrit-language avadāna tale? More importantly, this reviewer would like to see further research on the correlation between the different Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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ordination lineages (nikayās) of the Buddhist monkhood with the iconography of the Buddha images. There is no denying that an image is a replica of its prototype, because the Pāli word for an image of Buddha “patimā” means a copy. Thus an iconographic type might be indicative of its lineage. For example a Buddha Granting Boons from Wiang Sa, Surat Thani province (CAT.9) probably belonged to the same Sammitīya lineage as Buddha Granting Boons from Sārnāth region, Uttar Pradesh (CAT.10). However, on account of the different manner of wearing the monastic robe and the undergarment, Buddha Granting Boons from Tuol Ta Hoy, Kampong Speu province (CAT.50) was probably affiliated with the Sthaviravāda (Theravāda) lineage (Krairiksh 2013, 20). “The Brahmanical World” is the title of the third theme. It comprises four articles. Pierre-Yves Manguin contributes an article on “Early Coastal States of Southeast Asia: Funan and Śrīvijaya”. The sites of Dong Thap and Angkor Borei were inhabited a few centuries before the establishment of the kingdom of Funan in the 1st century. By the 3rd or 4th century after extensive canal systems were developed, the archaeological site of Oc Eo (Ba The) became a moated city and a manufacturing center for luxury artifacts some of which were exported overseas. Cultural and trade exchanges with India took place during this period. From the 5th to the mid-7th century a number of brick temples proliferated among which was excavated at Dong Thap a Visnu image (CAT.59). As attested by inscriptions, Vaisnava received royal support until it was supplanted by Śaivism after the fall of Funan. The author accepts the view of Coedès and Wolters that Śrīvijaya was located in Palembang, Sumatra, from the time of Yijing’s visit in the 670s, when it was called Shili Foshi, to the mid11th century, when it was known as Sanfoqi. This reviewer, however, agrees with Takashi Suzuki that the location of Shili Foshi was not Palembang, but Chaiya on the Peninsula (Suzuki 2012, 109-126). Agustijanto Indradjaya’s article, “Early Traces of Hinduism and Buddhism across the Java Sea”, shows that during the early centuries AD the islands of the Indonesian Archipelago were trading not only with India but also with Han dynasty China (206 BC to 25 AD). The recent excavations at Batujaya, West Java province, and at Uma Anyar, Bali province, have contributed to our knowledge of Buddhism in the Indonesian Archipelago. At Batujaya the remains of a brick structure, Candi Blandongan, bear some similarities with Wat Phra Men, Nakhon Pathom. A common type of sealing depicting a triad with the central Buddha seated with legs pendant flanked by two standing Bodhisattvas, with three Buddhas seated in meditation above them, has also been found. But, unlike those found in Continental Southeast Asia, the Batujaya variation has four stūpas decorating its frame, two on each side. The form of these stūpas resembles those excavated at the Khin Ba mound, Śrī Ksetra (CAT.31A,B) and at the Chula Pathon Chedi, Nakhon Pathom. Inscriptions bearing the Sanskrit mantra “ajñānāc cīyate karma”, which expresses the principle of causation in terms of rebirth and karma, were also found there. Two hundred and Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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fifty sealings, classified into eleven types have been found at Uma Anyar, Bali, some similar to those found at Batujaya. Le Thi Lien’s “Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture in Southern Vietnam: Evolution of Icons and Styles to the Eighth Century” emphasizes that recent excavations by Vietnamese archaeologists have turned up artifacts in their original settings, providing for the first time religious and ritual context for them, such as a Śaiva linga on its lustration basin excavated at Sanctuary G1A, Cat Tien, Lamdong province. A one-of-its-kind bronze Dūrga Mahisāsuramardinī excavated from Ke Mot, Kien Giang province shows strong stylistic affinities with its Khmer counterpart (CAT.66). Wood was the most common material for the making of Buddha images. Twentythree have been discovered at Go Thap alone. The author argues that the Buddha Granting Boons found at Nen Chua, Kien Giang province has been influenced by the Sārnāth school. However, as it belongs to the same iconographic type as the Buddha Granting Boons from Tuol Ta Hoy, Kampong Speu province (CAT.50), it might have been affiliated to the Sthaviravāda ordination lineage as well (Krairiksh 2014). Hiram Woodward’s essay, “Stylistic Trends in Mainland Southeast Asia, 600-800”, discusses the dating of some of the exhibits from Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. First he selected three lintels to show the stylistic evolution from the earliest type with makara and the double cupped arch from Sambor on the Mekong (CAT.62) of the late 6th century to the Wat Eng Khna lintel (CAT.88) from the third quarter of the 7th century, in which the arch has been straightened out and foliage medallions replace the makaras. The final outcome is the design of the Prasat Phum Prasat lintel, dated 706, which is composed purely of vegetal scrolls, at the center of which the author sees a stylized “ghost of a monster mask”, which is “more typical of Chinese than of Indian art”. Thence he proceeds to date 7th to 8th-century Cambodian and Thailand Dvāravatī period sculpture in the exhibition “in the light of these three lintels”, which as he admits, “takes us into the realm of subjective judgements”. Two catalog entries, entitled, “Visnu and Kingship” and “Śiva’s World”, bring to a close the theme of “The Brahmanical World”. The fourth theme is “State Art”. Under this heading there are three articles on Thailand’s Dvāravatī period art and architecture: “Dvāravatī Sculpture” by Robert L. Brown, “Cakra: Quintessential Symbol of the Buddha’s Law” by Thierry Zéphir, and “Buddhist Architecture and Ritual Space in Thailand, Seventh to Ninth Century” by Stephen A. Murphy. Apparently, the curator must have thought that Buddhism in Thailand between the 6th and the 8th century must have had the same state support as it has today. However, prior to the passing of the Sangha Act of 1902, which brought Buddhism under state control, Buddhism was supported by three strata of society, namely the people, the sangha (Buddhist monkhood) and the royal court. Each entity contributed its own particularities to Buddhist art. Robert L. Brown observes that, although the predominant source for the typical Dvāravatī Buddhas (CAT.117) was the Sārnāth style, “it shares many characteristics with Chinese sculptures, such as the tightly clinging robe, without folds, that hides Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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the genitals”. He believes that both Dvāravatī and Chinese Buddhas of the Northern Qi dynasty (550-577) were influenced by the Sārnāth images. Other sculpture typical of Dvāravatī are the Wheel of the Law (CAT.122-123), raised on pillars, and the standing or seated Buddha flanked by attendants on a flying animal (CAT.124), which might have been placed on the hubs of the wheels. He hypothesizes that the combinations represent that “the Buddha is giving a lecture from the sky”, which is in tune with the popularity of the scene of the Miracles at Śrāvastī (CAT.126), in which the Buddha preaches from the sky. However, this reviewer has identified the type of standing Buddha, wearing the robe covering both shoulders, showing asexual nudity, with both hands executing the gesture of argumentation as representing Amitābha/ Amitāyu (Infinite Light/Endless Life), the Mahāyāna Buddha of the Sukhāvatī cult who descends from Sukhāvatī, Land of Bliss, to receive the souls of the faithful. The scene of descent from Sukhāvatī is depicted by Amitābha/Amitāyu attended by the Bodhisattvas Avalokiteśvara and Mahāstāmaprāpta, standing on a composite winged animal (Krairiksh 2012, 88-92) that could have symbolized anger, greed and illusion. When affixed to the hub of the Wheel of the Law, raised on a pillar and covered with gold leaf, it would have tallied with a passage from the “Larger Sukhāvatī-Vyūha: Description of Sukhāvatī, the Land of Bliss”, which says that “Buddha Amitāyus stood in the midst of the sky with Bodhisattvas Mahāstāma and Avalokiteśvara, attending on his right and left respectively. There was such a bright and dazzling radiance that no one could see clearly; the brilliance was a hundred thousand times greater than that of gold.” (Cowell 1969, 175-176). Nevertheless, this reviewer agrees with the author’s conclusion that “Dvāravatī, and probably most art associated with the name, can be securely placed only in the seventh and eighth centuries” and that “the political history of Dvāravatī presented today is a construct, not a reality”. Thierry Zéphir’s “Cakra: Quintessential Symbol of the Buddha’s Law” discusses three different types of cakras in Buddhist art: the Jewel Wheel (ratnacakra), one of the seven gems of the universal monarch (cakravartin), the Wheel of Life (samsāracakra) and the Wheel of the Law (dharmacakra). The Wheel of the Law is linked to the Buddha’s first sermon at Sārnāth, the “Sermon on Setting in Motion The Wheel of the Law” (Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta), which lays out the tenets of the Buddha’s teaching. While some Dvāravatī dharmacakras bear excerpts from this sermon on the rims of the wheel, others are inscribed with the “Independent Arising” formula. Stephen A. Murphy’s “Buddhist Architecture and Ritual Space in Thailand, Seventh to Ninth Century” covers moated urban settlements with monastic architecture in northeastern Thailand at Muang Fa Daed, Kalasin province, and at Muang Sema, Nakhon Ratchasima province. The ordination halls (ubosot) had a set of eight or sixteen stone boundary markers (semas) around them. Some have scenes from the life of the Buddha, others those of his former lives (jātakas). At Muang Fa Daed, there are remains of foundations for seven stūpas inside the moat and seven outside. Excavations half a kilometer from the moat of Muang Sema Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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revealed the foundation of an assembly hall (vihāra) that used to house an elevenmeter long stone image of Buddha in mahāparinirvāna posture, in the vicinity of which a dharmacakra was found. Excavations also revealed a monastic compound at the center of the settlement complete with a large vihāra, an ubosot, and numerous stūpas. The reviewer would like to suggest that the findings at Muang Sema indicate the presence of Theravāda Buddhism where both the town-dwelling monks (kammavāsi) and the forest-dwelling monks (araññavāsi) had once coexisted. The theme of “State Art” is carried onto the catalog entries, in which, with the exceptions of two images of “Enthroned Buddha”, one from Son Tho, Vietnam (CAT.108) and the other reportedly found in Myanmar, in the Cleveland Museum of Art (CAT.109), all are Dvāravatī period sculpture. “Savior Cults” is the name of the fifth theme of the catalog and the exhibits. It consists of a single article on Thailand’s Dvāravatī period, entitled “The Transformation of Brahmanical and Buddhist Imagery in Central Thailand, 600-800”, by Pattaratorn Chirapravati. Under the heading “Si Thep: Ancient Cosmopolitan Center of the 8th and 9th Centuries”, the author surveys the recent excavations there as well as reports on the findings of Tang Dynasty (618-906) ceramics and sealings depicting Buddha in meditation with a Chinese inscription giving the name Wenxiang. Six images of Sūrya may have been discovered at Si Thep, the most in Thailand, one of which is in the exhibition (CAT.70), as well as an image of Visnu (CAT.71) and two of Krsna Govardhana. As Sūrya is sometimes depicted seated at the base of a dharmacakra, with both hands holding a lotus bud, the dharmacakra is identified with the sun. Following Robert L. Brown’s opinion that “the double katakamudrā, a gesture used consistently by Sūrya, may indicate an association between the Buddha and the sun”, the author then surmises that Sūrya’s double katakamudrā “may be the source of the popular double teaching hand gesture (vitarkamudrā), a pose that is not known in India”. The reviewer suggests that a prototype should be sought in China where a bronze Amitābha/Amitāyu from the Sui dynasty (518-618) in the Musée Guimet is depicted with the double vitarkamudrā held in front of the chest (Munsterberg 1967, PL.24). Since a rock-cut relief at Buduruvagala, Śrī Lanka, depicting the Bodhisattva Maitreya is shown with the double katakamudrā, the author concludes that “while Sūrya’s double hand gesture of katakamudrā is used on the standing image of Maitreya, the double hand gesture of vitarkamudrā was developed for Śākyamuni”. The reviewer does not believe that stylistic analysis can adequately explain the transformation of Buddhist iconography, because iconography follows the evolution of Buddhist thought as expressed through successive ordination lineages. The answer, therefore, must be sought not from the outside, but within the Buddhist religion itself. Ultimately, the theme of “Savior Cults” fails to connect with the superb images of bodhisattvas that grace the catalog section. The book concludes with appendices consisting of two articles on technical matters: Federico Carò and Janet G. Douglas on “Stone Types and Sculptural Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Practices in Pre-Angkorian Southeast Asia”, and Lawrence Becker, Donna Strahan, and Ariel O’Connor on “Technical Observations on Casting Technology in FirstMillennium Cambodia, Thailand, and Vietnam”. A thoughtful addition is a Glossary of Sites in First Millennium Southeast Asia included for the benefit of general readers. Although it does not claim to be exhaustive, it is extremely useful, nonetheless. Lost Kingdoms: Hindu Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia is a compendium of present knowledge of Southeast Asian sculpture from the 6th to the 8th century. As such, it is a must-have volume for anyone interested in the subject. Unfortunately, our understanding of Early Southeast Asia is limited to research based on a 20th century paradigm of “Indianization” that has closed our mind to the equally potent force of “Sinicization”. Although Chinese historical sources from the 1st century onwards are the principal provider for our knowledge of the history of these “Lost Kingdoms”, archaeologists and art historians have so far neglected to study the “Sinicization” of Early Southeast Asia. Piriya Krairiksh References Cotter, Holland. 2014. “Gathering of Gods from Places Long Forgotten: In ‘Lost Kingdoms’ National Treasures from Asian Countries.” The New York Times. Art & Design / Art Review (April 10, 2014). Cowell, E.B. et al ed. 1969. “The Larger Sukhāvatī-Vyūha: Description of Sukhāvatī, the Land of Bliss.” Buddhist Mahāyāna Texts. New York: Dover Publication. Gutman, Pamela and Bob Hudson. 2012-2013. “A First Century Stele from Sriksetra.” Bulletin de L’École Française d’Extrême-Orient 99: 17-46. Krairiksh, Piriya. 2013. “Early Buddhist Art in Southeast Asia.” Paper presented at the international conference on “The Origin of Buddhism in Southeast Asia: Dhamma and Archaeology.” (January 11-14, 2013). Nakhon Si Thammarat: Unpublished. Krairiksh, Piriya. 2014. “Dvāravatī Revisited.” A Symposium in Connection with the Exhibition Lost Kingdoms: Hindu Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia 5th to 8th Century (April 14-July 27, 2014). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York: Unpublished. Munsterberg, Hugo. 1967. Chinese Buddhist Bronze. Tokyo: C. E. Tuttle. Ray, Nihan-Ranjan. 1936. Sanskrit Buddhism in Burma. Amsterdam: H. J. Paris. Sireñ, Osvald. 1970. Chinese Sculpture. New York: Hacker Art Books. Suzuki, Takashi. 2012. The History of Srivijaya. Tokyo: Mekong.

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Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia by John Guy (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art; Bangkok: River Books, 2014). ISBN: 9781-58839-524-5 (Metropolitan Museum of Art), ISBN: 978-616-7339-48-1 (River Books), ISBN 978-0-300-20437-7 (Yale University Press). 2,500 Baht/US$65. The exhibition Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia brought together 170 sculptures from across Southeast Asia dating from the seminal period from the 5th through 8th centuries when local communities began to coalesce into civilizations. When I first looked through this landmark exhibition catalog, I was struck by the number of pieces that were literally of “National Treasure” stature that had been borrowed from the museums of six Southeast Asian countries: two in Europe and from collections in the United States. Not only does this 318page lavishly illustrated catalog document this extraordinary exhibition, but it is presented in a fresh and insightful manner with contributing essays by many of the top scholars in early Southeast Asian history, art history, Buddhist and Hindu studies, and linguistics. It discusses and presents advances in scholarship that have been made towards understanding this complex and crucial period in the development of Southeast Asia in the last few years. As John Guy notes in the Preface, without these advances in scholarship, this exhibition could not have been undertaken a generation ago, and even a few years ago it would not have been possible to obtain the loan of so many important objects. John Guy is to be congratulated for the difficult and subtle negotiations that resulted in such a diverse group of strong national and regional interests cooperating together to loan so many important objects, not only to the history of their cultures, but also to the history of Southeast Asia as a whole. As one who has regularly taught classes on Southeast Asian art history, the problem of how to coherently present the developments that follow the bronze and iron ages has always been a problem. Traditionally the art and architecture of this period have been presented according to modern political division and primarily categorized in terms of an ethnic group or nation state, or a combination of both. This does not adequately reflect the conditions during the 5th through 8th centuries. Similarly, an approach based on religious traditions also has shortcomings. In organizing this exhibition John Guy chose to approach the material using not just a single methodology, but from multiple viewpoints that both stand by themselves and overlap with each of the other groupings. The resulting sections of the exhibition clearly discuss and place in a relative context select groups of objects, permitting them to be understood as both distinct within local religious and cultural frameworks, and related to larger regional developments. The catalog is divided into five thematic sections, and each section is introduced with essays by leading scholars in their respective disciplines. These serve to define the underlying premise of each section and contextualize the catalog objects. John Guy’s well researched and carefully considered catalog entries then analyze each Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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object and also provide a continuous and interrelated narrative. In teaching my first class in Southeast Asian art history after reading this catalog, I rearranged the material for this period according to some of the groupings used. The lectures flowed more evenly and the students were better able to critically analyze and relate the material than in previous years. Section 1, titled “Lost Kingdoms”, begins with an introductory essay by John Guy, “Introducing Early Southeast Asia”, that discusses traditional and new views as to how Indic ideas were selectively adopted and adapted to local cultural conditions in Southeast Asia. The subsections within the chapter outline past scholarly assumptions and the reevaluation of these existing connections in light of new scholarship concerning Southeast Asia’s earliest contacts with other civilizations and religions. They are: “Defining the Kingdoms in Space and Time;” “New Religions;” “Respect the Buddha, Revere the Brahmans;” “Lands of Gold;” and “Scripts and Inscriptions.” John Guy’s second essay, “Principal Kingdoms of Early Southeast Asia”, gives a brief introduction to the early kingdoms of Southeast Asia in terms of indigenous historical records and recent archaeological evidence. The kingdoms of the Pyu, Funan, Zhenla, Champa, Dvāravatī, Kedah, and Śrivijaya are concisely introduced. These two introductory essays are then followed by Bérénice Bellina’s short essay, “Southeast Asia and the Early Maritime Silk Road”, which discusses the changing view of Southeast Asian trade routes made possible by recent advances in geo-archaeology and archaeo-botony, and the laboratory analysis of finds. These studies have shown that from Neolithic times, there were extensive, well-developed trade routes throughout Southeast Asia. When they came in contact with the global trading network linking the West through India to China, these interregional trade networks interacted with it both from within and from without the local infrastructure, supplying goods for export and receiving in payment items made specifically for their local consumption. The competition between the local elites to control trade along the interregional networks contributed to the cultural complexity of the region. Geoff Wade’s essay, “Beyond the Southern Borders: Southeast Asia in Chinese Texts to the Ninth Century”, concludes the first section. As there are few early indigenous inscriptions and most are very short, much of what we know about these formative societies is known from Chinese references to them. As noted by Wade, this is not a comprehensive or coherent selection of available Chinese sources, but is “… aimed at illuminating the early societies in a synoptic manner, by extracting from a wide range of sources the data most relevant to the traditions represented in this publication.” Each region and culture is viewed in light of Chinese sources with a brief discussion as to the interpretation of the texts and their reliability. The catalog entries for Section 1 by John Guy on objects 1-18 follow under the heading “Indian Imports and Native Cults.” Section 2 is titled “Emerging Identities” and begins with Arla Griffiths’ essay, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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“Early Indic Inscriptions of Southeast Asia”, which is an analysis of the Indic scripts used in early Southeast Asian inscriptions, the general nature of the inscriptions, and the role of these inscriptions as art-historical sources. Peter Skilling’s essay, “Precious Deposits: Buddhism Seen through Inscriptions in Early Southeast Asia”, examines the nature and context of Buddhist inscriptions in early Southeast Asia, especially the role of the “stanza of causation” (pratītyasamutpādagāthā), the fourline formula that is a summary of the Buddha’s teaching. Both Pali and Sanskrit inscriptions are introduced in the context of the religious doctrines that they embody. He concludes that while Southeast Asian Buddhists participated in the pan-Asian Buddhist ritual culture, they “forged their own identities and developed their own practices and customs.” The essay by Thein Lwin, Win Kyaing, and Janice Stargard, “The Pyu Civilization of Myanmar and the City of Śrī Kṣetra”, concisely summarizes the history of the Pyu at Śrī Kṣetra through the presentation of inscriptional and archaeological evidence. Concentrating primarily on the findings from Śrī Kṣetra beginning in the 5th century, Buddhist inscriptions, sculptures, and religious structures are introduced. Concluding Section 2 is Pierre Baptiste’s essay, “Early Cham Art: Indigenous Styles and Regional Connections”, which weaves Cham inscriptional evidence together with Chinese records in contextualizing the Hindu and Buddhist art of the early Cham civilization; Baptiste also provides stylistic comparisons with South Indian art and other Southeast Asian civilizations. John Guy’s catalog entries from 19 to 56 for the section follow under the title “The Arrival of Buddhism.” While Section 2 looks primarily at Buddhist influence and the local states that adopted it, Section 3 is titled “The Brahmanical World.” Pierre-Yves Manguin’s essay, “Early Coastal States of Southeast Asia: Funan and Śrivijaya”, looks at how recent archaeological research has changed our view of the evolution of the region, especially the early kingdoms of Funan and Śrivijaya. This essay begins with a concise presentation of the archaeological evidence for the economic and religious development of the Oc Eo floodplain and concludes with the question of why the site was abandoned and major cultural activity was shifted elsewhere. Pierre-Yves Manguin then looks at the Kingdom of Śrivijaya through both Chinese records and indigenous inscriptions before exploring how Śrivijaya established itself as the first large state in insular Southeast Asia based on international trade. Using archaeological evidence, he places the center of the kingdom along the Musi River at Palembang and proceeds to discuss the archaeological evidence and its implications. Then, using Chinese records and inscriptions, he concludes with the circumstances linking it to the rise of Central Java. Agustijanto Indrajaya’s “Early Traces of Hinduism and Buddhism across the Java Sea” is a short essay which expands upon Manguin’s. Le Thi Lien’s essay, “Hindu Buddhist Sculpture in Southern Vietnam: Evolution of Icons and Styles to the Eighth Century”, reviews the archaeological evidence for southern Vietnam, including the site of Cat Tien, which was excavated in the 1990s. His stylistic analysis of stone Buddha images considers both Indic Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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origins and local synthesis and is followed by a review of Śaivite and Vaisnava sculpture. Hiram Woodward’s “Stylistic Trends in Mainland Southeast Asia 600800” is one of the best essays in the catalog. He establishes the value of Khmer art in setting a baseline for the stylistic study of artistic developments in Southeast Asia due to the relatively large number of monuments and their accompanying dedicatory inscriptions that permit the stylistic development to be considered over time. Beginning with a clearly defined and presented discussion of the changes among three early Khmer lintels, he establishes reference points. A discussion of early Khmer sculpture follows, again establishing reference points with regards to both indigenous and Indic prototypes. He concludes his essay with a brief discussion of the complexities involved in the study of 8th century sculpture, as dates are often open to interpretation and many images display a subtle mixture of influences from different sources. Following these essays are John Guy’s catalog entries 57 through 187 under the headings “Viṣṇu” and “Śiva’s World.” Robert L. Brown’s essay, “Dvāravatī Sculpture”, begins Section 4 titled “State Art”, reflecting that Dvāravatī is referred to in its own inscriptions in terms that we equate with statehood. He first looks at why the term Dvāravatī has been applied to the 7th and 8th century Mon civilization of central Thailand, the development of scholarship and stylistic analysis of Dvāravatī sculptures, and the influence of the Gupta Sarnath style on the development of the Dvāravatī Buddha image. He then discusses how the argument that a single style of art and characteristic iconography with inscriptions and records serve to establish Dvāravatī as a real place. While most scholars speak of Dvāravatī as lasting until the 11th century, Brown then points out that there is so little evidence of Dvāravatī as a political presence from the 8th through the 11th century that there has been a rush to arbitrarily classify the art and architecture to build a bridge between Dvāravatī and modern Thailand. He continues with the advent of the Thai in the region in the 12th century. The fact that Dvāravatī and most of the art associated with it can only be placed in the 7th and 8th centuries has also been argued from other disciplines such as those of Peter Skilling, Pierre Baptiste, and Claude Jacques, who argues in an essay that the political history of Dvāravatī is a construct, not a reality. Thierry Zéphir’s essay, “Cakra: Quintessential Symbol of the Buddha’s Law”, is an in-depth review of scholarship concerning the Dvāravatī “Wheels of the Law” from the political and religious sources in South Asia and contributes a concise discussion of their possible religious significance in the Dvāravatī context. The last essay in Section 4 is by Stephen A. Murphy on Dvāravatī Buddhist art in Northeastern Thailand, “Buddhist Architecture and Ritual Space in Thailand, Seventh to Ninth Century.” This essay discusses the development of a cult of large stone boundary markers, sema, used to designate the sacred space within whose boundaries all crucial Buddhist ceremonies need to be conducted. He suggests that Buddhism influenced the development of urban and political life of the early polities and states of Northeastern Thailand. John Guy’s catalog entries 108 Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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through 130 for Section 4 are presented under the title “State Art.” The final section of the catalog is titled “Savior Cults”. Pattaratorn Chirapravati’s “The Transformation of Brahmanical and Buddhist Imagery in Central Thailand, 600800” is the sole essay in this section and concentrates on the ancient cosmopolitan center of Sri Thep that was located in the Pa Sak River Valley along a major regional trade route. Easily accessible from Mon Dvāravatī centers in Central Thailand, the art and architectural remains show that Buddhism and Brahmanism were practiced concurrently. In addition to Buddhist sculptures, several large images of Surya and Viṣṇu have been found. The core of the author’s thesis is that the worship of Surya was associated with the rulers of Dvāravatī and Surya was also conceptually connected with the Dvāravatī appreciation of the “Wheel of the Law,” dharmacakra. Building upon the research of Robert Brown and Hiram Woodward, she concludes with the suggestion that in the fluid religious atmosphere of Dvāravatī: “Southeast Asian Buddhism incorporated different Indian and Sinhalese styles and iconography, seemingly creating their own versions of objects best suited to the ritual and cultural needs of Si Thep and other Dvāravatī sites.” John Guy’s catalog entries 131 through 170 are presented under the category “Savior Cults.” The Lost Kingdoms catalog concludes with two technical essays by research chemists on the type of stone used in Southeast Asian stone sculptures and metal casting technology. The essay by Federico Carò and Janet G. Douglas, “Stone Types and Sculptural Practices in Pre-Angkorian Southeast Asia”, presents observations on the different types of stone used for the production of early Southeast Asian sculpture. While detailed geological, mapping, and petrographic studies are still lacking for most of Southeast Asia, some information is available for Cambodia and permits some general conclusions. For this publication twelve stone sculptures from the National Museum of Cambodia and the Museum of Vietnamese History, Ho Chi Minh City, were analyzed, with the full reports published for two objects—an early 6th century Viṣṇu and the mid-7th century Lintel with a King’s Consecration—in the exhibition. Lawrence Becker, Donna Strahan, and Ariel O’Connor’s “Technical Observations on Casting Technology in First-Millennium Cambodia, Thailand, and Vietnam” presents an overview of early Southeast Asian metal casting technology based on the examination of sculptures in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. General observations are that the images were cast using the direct lost-wax technology. Sculptures under 25 cm in height are generally solid, while larger ones are hollow with iron armatures supporting the sculpture on the interior. Techniques are similar to those used in Northern India, and the continued use of iron armatures in Southeast Asia—even in relatively small sculptures—points to a conservative tradition. General studies are presented for Dvāravatī, images from the Prakhon Chai Hoard, and Pre-Angkorian Khmer and Vietnamese images, noting the general quality of the casting, the percentages of the metals comprising the alloys, along with notes on the armatures and general casting technology. The catalog Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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concludes with a well thought out and easy to reference research bibliography and a Bibliography, as well as a comprehensive glossary of important archaeological and cultural sites in Southeast Asia. Organized by country, it is clear and easy to use. While the essays and research material contain some new theories and summarize the advances that have been made to date in the understanding of how the art and cultures of these early states developed and provide suggestions as to how their religious beliefs can be appreciated, it is John Guy’s carefully researched and insightful catalog entries on each of the 170 objects in the exhibition that form a consistent narrative throughout the catalog. While specialists might find fault with his interpretation or approach with a few objects, the overall quality of the research and discussion of the objects is consistently high and helps to bring both them and the cultures that produced them alive to the reader. The curatorial vision and selection of objects for the exhibition is also worthy of comment. As noted earlier, the difficulty of putting together an international loan exhibition is a daunting challenge; and to obtain the loan of so many extremely important and high quality pieces from so many different museums in Southeast Asia is unprecedented. Hopefully this will pave the way for future collaborative exhibitions. For anyone interested in early Southeast Asian studies, this is a “must have” addition to their library. John Listopad

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Siam - Through the Lens of John Thomson 1865-66 Including Angkor and Coastal China by Paisarn Piemmettawat, edited and translated by Narisa Chakrabongse (Bangkok: River Books, 2015). ISBN 978 616 7339 51 1. 995 Baht/US$30/£19.50. River Books and the Wellcome Library of London deserve great credit for producing this sumptuous book to accompany the exhibition of the same name held at the National Gallery, Bangkok from 9 January to 28 February 2015. Attractively priced at 995 Baht, with an intriguing portrait of a young, yet serious, Thai boy as the cover photo, the book, which has been published in Thai and English, contains forty-three of Thomson’s photos of Siam together with seven photos taken in Cambodia, including the first ever photos of Angkor Wat, and eleven photos of Coastal China; it is hardly surprising that the book quickly sold out, leading almost immediately to a second printing. The Scottish photographer John Thomson (1837-1921) has become legendary among historians and photography aficionados for his superb travel photos and portraiture in Southeast and East Asia that now form an extensive historical record of the region in the decade between 1862 and 1872. Although Thomson visited Siam and Cambodia for a only a few months in 1865-66, the unprecedented level of access he was granted meant that he has left a significant photographic legacy, taking the first formal photographic portraits of members of the Thai royal family as well as being the first photographer to visit and record the ruins of Angkor Wat. It should not be forgotten that all of this was achieved by carrying large and heavy photographic equipment, many crates containing glass negatives and highly flammable chemicals across often inhospitable terrain in very hot conditions. The book offers a foreword by Narisa Chakrabongse explaining the conception, planning and preparation of the exhibition, followed by three introductory essays. In Photography in Siam – The Crucial Years (1861-66), Dr. Joachim Bautze, an eminent art historian who is currently writing his own book on Early Photography in Thailand, provides a short overview of the history of photography in Siam up Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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to the arrival of Thomson, including brief profiles and photographs of several photographers either then visiting or resident in Bangkok. He notes that Thomson was certainly not the first Western photographer at the Siamese court, but for reasons unknown, King Mongkut permitted Thomson access previously unknown to any other Western visitor. The photos of the people and places are fascinating and the only disappointment is that the chapter ends abruptly without the author being able to examine the impact, if any, of Thomson’s visit and photographs on the local photographic industry. The brief essay titled The Reign of King Mongkut (R. 1851-1868) by renowned Thai historian Maj. Gen. M.R. Suphawat Kasemsri, and his research assistant, Rachanee Supvichit, provides a very concise and readable description of the major achievements of King Mongkut’s reign. The authors point out that this was truly a remarkable era in Thai history, given the King’s reform of the Buddhist Sangha, as well as the series of treaties signed with several foreign powers that signaled the end of the crown monopoly on trade and the opening of the country to foreign commerce. The last essay, John Thomson’s Photographs of Thailand in the Wellcome Library, written by William Schupbach, Librarian, the Wellcome Library, London, provides an overview of Thomson’s career in Asia and on his return to Great Britain. He explains how Thomson “was in the right place at the right time” to launch his photographic career in Asia, and that his “classic photographs of Beijing, the Chinese Treaty Ports and of street life in London could never have come into existence without his successful beginnings in Bangkok.” The author documents the help Thomson received from the British Consul in Bangkok to obtain an audience with King Mongkut, who granted him permission to take formal portraits of himself, members of the royal family and his chief ministers. Thomson was also fortunate and privileged to be invited to photograph the tonsure ceremony of Crown Prince Chulalongkorn, as well as the royal barge procession and a royal funeral (for King Pinklao, the Second King and younger brother of King Mongkut). Thomson was able to stay in Bangkok for several months and photographed “many aspects of the city, river scenes, its surrounding countryside and people”. Thomson’s collection at the Wellcome Library, which was acquired from Thomson’s estate in 1921, consists of nearly 700 photographs, of which 59 are photographs of Siam while 64 are of Cambodia. Of course, the photographs – many never previously seen in Thailand – are the real stars of this book, and the clarity of print achieved from delicate glass negatives that are 150 years old is almost beyond belief. The photographs in the exhibition (and hence in the book) are divided into four sections: Portraits: Royalty & Commoners; Ceremonies; Views of Bangkok & Beyond; Cambodia; and Coastal China. Each photo has a lucid explanation of the subject matter provided by local photography enthusiast and writer, Paisarn Piemmettawat. This reviewer found the portraits especially absorbing: in particular, the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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contrast between King Mongkut portrayed in impressive traditional dress with full ceremonial regalia [3] and his pose in French military uniform [4 and 5] requires repeated viewing; the portrait of a very young, bejeweled princess [6], with her hair in a topknot, looking sternly at the camera with her maid-servant kneeling at her feet with a fan, is an utterly arresting image that must have been difficult for Thomson to accomplish; and two other portraits of the unknown young boy [14] (the cover photo) and an oarsman [15] are equally uncomplicated yet dramatic. The panoramas [35-37] of the Chao Phraya River and Rattanakosin Island taken from Wat Arun are also fascinating. It must have required considerable detective work on the part of the author to provide a detailed identification of the sites in Thomson’s photographs, but his effort has certainly paid off in the enlarged prints. At the beginning of 1866, Thomson spent three months in Cambodia where he took a number of pictures of the area surrounding Angkor Wat and the temple complex itself [45-49], as well as a portrait of King Norodom in full dress naval uniform. Thomson was clearly enchanted by the elephants that he encountered and took various photos depicting these regal beasts [44]. Although the pictures of the Angkor Wat complex now appear quite familiar to the modern reader, they must have seemed breathtakingly fresh and exotic to Thomson’s 19th century readership. (His first book, entitled The Antiquities of Cambodia, was published in 1867.) The book concludes with pictures from Thomson’s travels in the Chinese coastal provinces of Fujian and Guangdong [50-60], including a superb portrait of the Governor of Guangdong and Guangxi [50], who is clearly holding a snuff bottle in his left hand and appears to have a large jade or ivory archer’s ring on his right thumb. As there was a significant growth in Chinese male emigration from these provinces to Siam during the mid-19th century, the photos provide an interesting contrast and backdrop to the successful Sino-Thai traders and entrepreneurs who have since the early 20th century created many of the largest conglomerates that now dominate the Thai economy. A welcome Addendum at the end of the book provides suggestions for further reading in Thai and English, together with sources for the captions. In summation, this book looks and feels just right, and unlike many photographic albums is not overly heavy, in any sense. This reviewer believes that it will appeal both to serious historians and casual readers, who wish to see for themselves the people, traditions and scenery of mid-19th century Siam. Paul Bromberg

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The Man Who Accused the King of Killing a Fish: The Biography of Narin Phasit of Siam, 1874-1950 by Peter Koret (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2012). ISBN 978-616-215-043-2 (soft). 725 Baht. Based on this fascinating biography of which he is the subject, it is fair to say that Narin Phasit was a very unusual man. Born in 1874 to a family of fruit farmers in Nonthaburi province, he lived through a period of great socio-economic and political change that saw the old kingdom of Siam transformed into the modern nation-state of Thailand through the twin forces of Western imperialism and capitalism. Although Narin’s actual impact upon this transformation was slight at best, this was not due to a lack of ambition or effort on his part, but rather to the sheer impossibility of just one man achieving the lofty goals he set. Narin was among the first generation of commoners to receive a modern, Westernstyle education that was designed to prepare them for service in the modernized bureaucracy established by King Chulalongkorn as part of his widespread administrative reforms of the Thai state in the late 19th century. After receiving the highest score in the civil service exams, he was appointed as the provincial governor of Nakhon Nayok in 1909. There, Narin led a successful campaign against local bandits, for which he received a royal decoration. However, his promising government career was brought to an end by his foolhardy attempt to challenge the monopoly of a Western shipping company operating on the Prachin River, against the advice of his superior officer. Following his dismissal and subsequent denunciation in court as a fraud, Narin proceeded to spend the next four decades of his life engaged in various quixotic schemes to reform Thai Buddhism, champion the interests of the common man, eliminate government corruption and promote world peace. With an instinctive understanding of the power of the public sphere, Narin conducted his one-man crusades through a plethora of self-established publications and organizations, often with outlandish names such as When Will Narin Be Freed of His Craziness, Like Hitler? and the Pleased to Object Committee. Among his more bizarre acts of self-promotion, he shaved off half his hair and moustache in order to promote a biography of King Taksin, in which he implicitly likened himself to the Thai warrior-king who had been overthrown and executed for his supposed insanity. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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He also found the time to establish a highly profitable business producing medicinal alcohol in the early 1920s and to run for election in Bangkok in 1948, both of which endeavours fell afoul of the Thai authorities. The most controversial of his initiatives, however, and the one that forms the heart of this biography, was Narin’s attempt to promote greater gender equality in Siam through ordaining his two daughters in 1928, thereby establishing the first female order of monks in the kingdom. Although this was supported by the local community, it was a direct challenge to the religious authority of the Thai state, which responded by prohibiting female ordination and then arresting and defrocking Narin’s daughters and other women that had followed their lead. The eldest of his daughters, Sara, also received a short prison sentence for her refusal to defrock willingly. This deterred neither of them, however; upon her release, Narin clothed Sara in monastic robes imported from Japan and then announced the formation of a new Buddhist sect free from the corrupting influence of state control. Unsurprisingly, Narin’s outspoken style and confrontational manner earned him the enmity of a succession of Thai kings and prime ministers, leading to his periodic imprisonment and even an extrajudicial order to execute him that was fortunately never carried out. Needless to say, all these attempts to silence him failed and, right up until his death in 1950, Narin persisted in his hopelessly optimistic efforts to make the world a better place. As his biographer, Peter Koret, recognizes on a number of occasions, some of the events in Narin’s life were so improbable that if it were a work of fiction, then they would have had to have been omitted for being too unrealistic; his death from natural causes and as a free man being a case in point (p. 287). Like its subject, this book is a highly unconventional biography and might not be to everyone’s taste. Most significantly, in what he explains to be an act of ‘creative non-fiction’ (p. xvii), Koret has dramatized certain key events and invented some dialogue between his protagonist and other people. All such speculative scenes are listed at the back of the book for those concerned about what is historically accurate and what is not. In another break from convention, Koret starts his story in media res, with Narin’s appointment as provincial governor in his mid-thirties, and provides few details about his life prior to this. Those readers that wish to know more about what might have influenced Narin in his early years will have to turn to Thai-language sources. Despite this idiosyncratic approach, Koret has based his account upon solid academic research, drawing on a wide range of books and newspapers from Narin’s time and extensive interviews with his eldest daughter, Sara. For the most part, though, Koret relies on Narin’s own prodigious writings, of which he often reproduces large sections to illustrate Narin’s thoughts. Judging from these, it is clear that Koret has imitated Narin’s writing style throughout the text to give the reader a deeper appreciation of his subject. This generally works to great effect in recreating Narin’s mischievous sense of humour but, since the writing is often long-winded, it can be heavy going; though this reviewer suspects Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Koret may have done this to help the reader empathize with the recipients of Narin’s lengthy and frequent missives, such as the poor sheriff of Nonthaburi who received the 212-page draft defence of female ordination. Moreover, the text is rich with humorous understatement, witty asides and clever turns of phrase that make for an entertaining read; take, for example, the observation that, after being overthrown as absolute monarch in the coup of 1932, King Prajadhipok could at least console himself with the fact that he would no longer be troubled by Narin (p. 230) or the latter’s realization that ‘the power of reason is never a match against reasons of power’ (p. 324). In spite of his constant struggle to be heard or, perhaps more accurately, because his struggle to be heard so antagonized the powers that be, Narin has been almost airbrushed out of Thai history. Being the first English-language study of him, joining a lone Thai-language biography that went through three print runs in the 1990s, this book is thus not just a fitting tribute to a singular man, but an important contribution to Thai studies. It is also of interest because it deals with many issues that are still of relevance today, such as the ongoing debates over female ordination and misbehaviour in the monkhood. For this reviewer, though, what resonates most strongly are the similarities between then and now in how Thai history writing has been manipulated for socio-political ends and how the Thai state deals with dissenting opinions. In response to the Thai government’s efforts in the late 1930s to promote Thai nationalism and legitimize the growing power of the military through the glorification of warrior-kings such as Naresuan, Narin wrote a piece called The Siamese Generalissimo in which he praised the same Naresuan for leading his troops into battle and engaging in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy. As he then observed ironically, if world leaders of his time were to do the same, then world peace would be ensured. Today, the military still relies on the martial tradition embodied by Naresuan to justify its role in Thai politics, as evidenced by the free government-sponsored showings of the film Naresuan: Part 5 in June 2014. It also threatens any who challenge its ultranationalist interpretation of the past, such as the conservative critic Sulak Sivaraksa. Similarly, during the Second World War, Narin was incarcerated in a military-run ‘School of Mind Training’ for criticizing the Thai premier, Luang Phibun Songkhram, eerily mirrored today by the detention of dissidents in the military’s attitude adjustment camps. Indeed, throughout the book, this reviewer kept thinking: what would Narin think of Thailand today? And, just as pertinently, how would the current regime deal with him? It is in answering the latter question that perhaps the key difference between then and now becomes apparent, for it is hard to escape the conclusion that, under the present situation, Narin would have been imprisoned for a much longer term than those he actually served. Given the socio-economic and political progress Thailand has made over the last 100 years, it is unfortunate that the current government is far less tolerant Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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of dissent than the first military regime under Phibun, which itself was much less tolerant than the absolute monarchy it had replaced. What this wonderfully executed biography of Narin’s career as a dissident intellectual illustrates so clearly is that efforts to suppress different opinions will ultimately always be unsuccessful. It is in this sense that Narin Phasit’s life is, as Koret claims, ‘a universal folktale’ (p. xv). James A. Warren Before Siam: Essays in Art and Archaeology edited by Nicolas Revire and Stephen A. Murphy (Bangkok: River Books and The Siam Society, 2014). ISBN 978-166 733 941 2. 1,495 Baht. This hefty tome is a comprehensive account of a controversial subject by 33 authors who cover a broad range of academic specialties, with 312 colour illustrations and 56 maps and plans. Yet despite the huge amount of information presented, the subject of Dvāravatī, which many readers might expect to find at the center of the book, is only marginal to the discussion. Most chapters allude to Dvāravatī, but none of them provides an argument in favor of the hypothesis that Dvāravatī was a unified kingdom formed between the 6th and 10th centuries within the borders of what later became Siam. Instead several authors use a footnote to summarize what other writers have called Dvāravatī. This book does not attempt to take a stance on what “Dvaravati” was, thus the title. Some contributors to this book are more concerned to explore this problem than others, but one should not expect to find an answer to the mystery of Dvāravatī in it. The book’s focus is rather on a time period and a general area. The preface by Chris Baker sets the tone by implanting the idea in the reader’s mind that at the dawn of history in Thailand there were many localized art styles, which over the next few centuries gradually coalesced into two traditions or cultural zones conventionally called Mon and Dvāravatī, but which were not firmly bounded or differentiated. Many of the authors emphasize differences between the Chao Phraya drainage and the northeastern region and the Mun and Chi Rivers that flow into the Mekong. This in itself is a statement. It is possible, as this volume shows, to deal with Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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the late prehistory and early historic era without the need to postulate a conventional entity such as a kingdom which was seminal to later political, religious, and artistic development in the realm which is now the Kingdom of Thailand. It is possible that future archaeological discoveries will unearth more concrete evidence that such an entity existed, but such a development seems increasingly remote. Although it is not explicitly stated, this book implies that Thailand was created through the coalescence of a variety of cultural units: before Siam, these units exerted considerable influence on each other, and exchanged many things including religious ideas, artistic motifs, and economic commodities, but maintained a relationship which might be called a heterarchy or system of peer polities. The regions which became Thailand evolved along closely parallel tracks during the period under study in this book, which began around 2,300 years ago and ended in the early 13th century with King Jayavarman VII of Angkor; in other words, just before the formation of Sukhothai. This book makes judicious use of three different fields – archaeology, art history, and history. Most of the authors are aware of the benefits of combining data and analysis from more than one discipline, and seek to blend them rather than bow to the concept of the compartmentalization of knowledge. The first chapter, “What There was Before Siam: Traditional Views” by Hiram Woodward Jr. (pp. 17-29), for example, is written by a man whose main reputation is that of an art historian but who deals with the search for vestiges of Dvāravatī in local chronicles, and attempts to understand how people of the Siam period viewed the pre-Tai past. One chronicle, the Jinakālamāli, written around 1500, alludes to Queen Cāmadevī, who was born near Lop Buri around 662 CE and later moved north. This may relate to a memory of the transition from Mon to Tai as the dominant language and identity in Lamphun. In fact the situation was more complex, since there was a period of Khmer linguistic and architectural development there as well. There is no folk memory of a Dvāravatīlike entity. The rest of the book is divided into four parts. Part I, on the transition from prehistory to history, begins with a chapter by Trongjai Hutangkura, who disputes the assumption that the lack of early sites in the lower central plain of Thailand was due to a higher sea level which only receded around 600-700 CE. Recent geomorphological research shows that the shoreline was already located around Bangkok by that time. This chapter shows that the shoreline of the lower Chao Phraya has not moved very much during the historic period. It is still possible to refine his hypothesis however. The assumption that the advance of the sea coast was caused by the decline of the sea level rather than sedimentation needs further testing. Probably the lower central plain 2,000 years ago was a shallow swamp in which hummocks of higher ground existed and created an irregular outline, not a smooth straight boundary between land and water. People may well have lived there, like the Marsh Arabs of southern Iraq, but traces of their existence would be difficult to find. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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This finding has obvious implications for similar conjectures about other parts of early historic Southeast Asia. There is a similar theory that the coastline of south Sumatra has moved 100 kilometers in the last 1,500 years. Recent discoveries of sites from the early first millennium CE near the coast, combined with the data from Thailand, are beginning to provide strong evidence that the extensive sedimentation around the lower courses of rivers in many parts of Southeast Asia has been in progress for millennia rather than centuries, and therefore coastal change has not been a significant factor in the evolution of settlement patterns and complex society. Specialized groups such as the Moken of south Thailand and Myanmar and the Sea Nomads of western Indonesia have probably lived in the marshes for millennia, but left few traces of their activities. The next chapter by Bérénice Bellina et al. provides a detailed account of discoveries in the upper Thai-Malay peninsula at the site of Khao Sam Kaeo. A Franco-Thai project has contributed greatly to understanding the early trade between Southeast Asia and South Asia. It has been suggested that hard stone and glass artifacts may have been made by local craftsmen under the tutelage of immigrant Indian experts (p. 75). It is more plausible that Southeast Asian craftsmen went to India to learn these skills. Southeast Asians were the more accomplished seafarers throughout the early period of contact between Southeast Asia and the Indian Ocean. The same applies to the high-tin bronze bowls found at Khao Sam Kaeo and Ban Don Ta Phet (p. 76; Ian Glover and Shahnaj Husne Jahan, “An Early Northwest Indian Decorated Bronze Bowl from Khao Sam Kaeo”, pp. 90-97, in this volume). The “South China Sea Indianised” artifacts “display a wide range of morphologies, some of them only rarely or never used for ornaments in South Asia” (Ibid.). The chapter by Brigitte Borell, Bérénice Bellina, and Boonyarit Chaisuwan, titled “Contacts between the Upper Thai-Malay Peninsula and the Mediterranean World,” pp. 98-117, takes us even further west. It also clarifies links to the east, listing finds of Han dynasty pottery and glass from China in the peninsula. Most of the important sites in the peninsula have been looted, but the quantity of seals, cameos, intaglios, coins, and pendants with Roman designs found there is steadily increasing. This chapter concludes that the Roman items here probably came via India. The authors are however willing to consider the possibility that Romans actually did pass through Southeast Asia at least once on the way to China (p. 112); this seems unlikely. The “Roman” embassy was probably from elsewhere, possibly northwest India. The section concludes with a chapter by Thanik Lertcharnrit on the archaeological site of Phromthin Tai, Lop Buri Province. The site is important due to the long period of activity there. The first phase is marked by a single grave dated to 700-500 BCE. Phase II belongs to the Iron Age (500 BCE-500 CE). The most intensive occupation took place in Phase III: 6-9c CE, “Dvaravati period”. Significantly no break was identified in the sequence between Phases II and III. This chapter is the only one to provide much data on locally-made ceramics. This is an Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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important subject; more research should focus on local pottery sequences bridging the prehistoric-historic transition. Part II deals with “The Growing Emergence of Indic Material Culture.” The section begins with a masterful summary by Himanshu Prabha Ray of “Multireligious Maritime Linkages across the Bay of Bengal during the First Millennium CE.” She provides much valuable information on the relationship between Buddhism and Brahminism in India, the development of religious architecture, and scripts. As she notes, there is no direct correlation between language, script, and religious affiliation. The uses of inscriptions changed in the 1c-2c BCE in India, and again from the 4th century CE onward. This chapter provides much critical information for understanding current thinking in Indian history and archaeology that provides the context for contemporary development in Southeast Asia. Paul A. Lavy in a chapter on early Vaiṣṇava sculpture in peninsular Thailand and Southeast Asia pays tribute to Stanley J. O’Connor and Robert Brown, and refines O’Connor’s argument for dating these images based on more recent research in India and Southeast Asia. Even if, as Lavy argues, O’Connor’s date is 100 years too early, the Chaiya statue would still be the oldest known Brahmanical image in Southeast Asia. Brahmanical remains in the peninsular region are also the subject of Wannasarn Noonsuk’s chapter. As in other parts of Thailand and the rest of Southeast Asia, Brahmanical and Buddhist remains there are often closely associated, suggesting a mode of coexistence between the two faiths. With Michel Lorrillard’s chapter on “Pre-Angkorian Communities in the Middle Mekong Valley (Laos and Adjacent Areas)”, the book’s focus shifts to the eastern frontier of what became Siam. Like the other contributors to this volume, he exercises proper caution by avoiding assumptions regarding the linguistic affinities of the people who created various works of art and architecture. He summarizes much new data from the Middle Mekong which support his contention that this region’s importance in the early historic period is underappreciated. Elizabeth H. Moore and San Win, in “Sampanago: ‘City of Serpents’ and Muttama (Martaban)”, deal with similar issues of cross-cultural interaction in the area around the Three Pagodas Pass between Thailand and Myanmar. Part III, “Early Buddhist Practices, Landscapes and Artefacts”, opens with a chapter by one of the editors, Nicolas Revire, on “Glimpses of Buddhist practices and rituals in Dvāravatī and in neighbouring cultures.” In the author’s words (footnote 1, p. 266): “In this essay, ‘Dvāravatī’ refers to both an archaeological typology and a cultural entity vaguely located in west-central Thailand circa the seventh and eighth centuries CE.” It seems that art and common aesthetic values covered broader areas than political units did in this region, and indeed in all of early Southeast Asia. The ideotechnic subsystem of culture, in the terms popularized by archaeologist Lewis Binford, was more stable, and thus, one could argue, more significant than the sociotechnic subsystem (government). This chapter’s main purpose is to emphasize Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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the role played by punya, ‘merit’, in guiding people’s actions. Most laypeople wanted merit, not immediate attainment of nirvana. This chapter contains very useful graphics such as Map 1 (page 248), depicting the locations of Buddhist inscriptions in central and northeast Thailand, in the mid- to late first millennium CE, Pinna Indorf’s chapter on “Dvāravatī Cakras: Questions of their Significance” revisits the subject of stone cakras and stambhas. One of her important contributions is an exploration of the significance of the Dighanikaya and the possible use of the cakras as palladia analogous to linggas in Angkor. She also proposes an explanation for the disappearance of these forms. Wesley Clarke displays the fruits of his enterprising study of the unpublished notes of H.G. Quaritch Wales in a major reinterpretation of “The Skeletons of Phong Tuek”, a seminal site in the formation of the Dvāravatī concept by Coedès and Quaritch Wales. Rather than belonging to an earlier phase, the burials found there now seem certain to be contemporary with Buddhist-related construction. Matthew D. Gallon, in “Monuments and Identity at the Dvāravatī Town of Kamphaeng Saen”, also uses an archaeological approach to the subject of “Dvāravatī”, defining it as an archaeological culture. Next the other editor, Stephen Murphy, employs an art historical approach to comparisons between the sema stones in lower Myanmar and northeast Thailand. Contrary to the hypothesis that the sema stones in Thailand were a model for those of Thaton, he advances solid reasons for concluding that the two traditions evolved independently, as a result of sharing similar Buddhist traditions and a Pali canon. Part IV, “Early Khmer Impetus”, discusses a tantric Buddhist inscription found at Sab Bak near Phimai, and suggests that one key function of the enigmatic lintels inside the main temple is to symbolize the unity of body, speech, and mind, and represents the mandala of the Guhyasamājatantra. The Khmer section of the Sab Pak inscription deals with the installation of nine Buddhist images of Mount Abhayagiri which were meant to protect the Khmer lands against Java. When the statues deteriorated, Dharanindrapura renovated the statues. His pupil Dhanus reinstalled them in 1066. Arlo Griffiths in an article in Archipel in 2013 proposed Ratu Baka in central Java as the site of Abhayagiri. Conti thinks it unlikely that tantric Buddhists traveled to Java for three centuries to maintain a holy place there, but the author of this review in a forthcoming book on Ratu Baka gives reasons why Griffiths’ theory is plausible. In the concluding chapter, Hedwige Multzer O’Naghten provides a detailed description of the impact of Jayavarman VII’s building program in Thailand, and devotes special attention to Mueang Sing. In summary, this volume is rich in description and detail. The authors all wisely prefer to allow the reader to decide what Dvāravatī may have been, given the massive amount of information provided herein. John N. Miksic Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Tribute and Profit: Sino-Siamese Trade, 1652-1853 by Sarasin Viraphol (Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2014). ISBN: 9786162150791. 795 Baht. Reading the 2014 edition of Sarasin Viraphol’s Tribute and Profit: Sino-Siamese Trade, 1652 – 1853 makes for a curious exercise, at many levels, in the historical discipline. First of all, the 2014 edition, which was splendidly edited by Professor Wutthichai Mulsilpa, who has removed quite a few errors and inconsistencies from the earlier version, actually remains very true to the spirit of the original 1977 Harvard East Asian Monograph version in its perception and presentation of Sarasin’s findings as novel and groundbreaking in the academic world of the late Cold War period. For readers who are unfamiliar with the field of overseas Chinese history or even Chinese history of the early modern period, the book, of course, remains quite an eye-opening piece. For academics and researchers within the field, however, this is a reprint of one of the greatest classics upon which the field itself has been established. There is nothing surprising in the historical content of the book. What is quite amazing is, instead, the retrospective view of what appears to be the almost fantastical shift of the field within the nearly four-decade span between the first Harvard publication and the current edition by Silkworm Books. Only a couple of years following the conclusion of the Vietnam War, in the bygone era of the first publication of Tribute and Profit, one had to argue convincingly that China’s role in world trade and commerce of the 18th century was not “primitive in an economic sense and of no importance for modern times.” Furthermore, that smaller states in East and Southeast Asia had to negotiate, compromise, evolve and progress around the rules and norms of the Chinese Empire just as much as, if not more than, they had to around the encroaching European powers. Finally, what appears quite ironic from today’s perspective is that Sarasin would need to justify the usefulness of his research in terms of a policy recommendation that, “the work can provide a historical perspective on the likely future course of development of Thailand’s commercial contact with the People’s Republic of China (PRC). At least it should serve as a reminder that trade between the two nations was traditionally cordial and mutually beneficial.” The framing of the preface with the Thai government’s announcement of its Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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intentions to resume trade with the PRC in the mid-1970s underlines the Cold War mentality that was the order of the day, even or perhaps especially, among leading American academics in China-related fields. Even a few years after President Richard Nixon’s epoch-making handshake with Chairman Mao, the recent Harvard graduate, Sarasin Viraphol, reported that fear continued to permeate all levels of Thai society—among assemblymen, the military, and the general public—that open trade with communist China could prove detrimental, not only to the stability of Thailand’s trade balance, but also the security of her political system and institutions. This statement, so early in the preface, should serve as a stark historical reality check—reminding readers of the present day that, even after the death of Mao and the official conclusion of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, the idea that the PRC was on its steady course towards capitalist development remained far, far away from being the general consensus among experts and academics of the so-called free world. Such a concept continued to be seriously problematic and highly debatable even among the most respected China Hands, including Sarasin’s own PhD advisor, John K. Fairbank. In the middle of the second decade of the 21st century, Tribute and Profit might also be read as a fable of survival and prosperity for small and relatively powerless states in the shadows of a rising hegemonic neighboring superpower. Today, ASEAN appears to be on the verge of imploding in the very year that the ASEAN Economic Community (AEC) was set to be realized. The biggest threat to the wellbeing of the AEC appears to be the PRC claiming the entire South China Sea as its national territory while expanding vast economic influence into the Greater Mekong Subregion at a seemingly unstoppable rate. The very bizarre turn of events in contemporary Chinese history since Deng Xiaoping’s ‘Reform and Opening Up’ policy [改革开放] seems to have turned the clock back on the power-relations of Greater East Asia. Not unlike the apex of Manchu power during the reign of Emperor Qianlong in the mid-late 18th century, China has once again risen united among the most influential economic and political centers of the 21st century. Also not unlike Qianlong’s Great Qing Empire, China is becoming more and more reluctant to compromise with the trade and political demands of the West while increasingly expecting neighboring ASEAN members to submit to her hegemonic power. Indeed, should China succeed in claiming the South China Sea as her territory and realm of influence, Southeast Asia would more or less have to return to her 18th century status as vassal states within the Chinese tribute system. The expansion of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization to include India, Pakistan and Iran by the end of 2015 would make the future appear even bleaker for ASEAN in this respect. If anything can be learnt from Tribute and Profit, it is that it is possible for smaller states to outmaneuver superpowers in trade, even within the most established clientelistic system, and that superpowers, no matter how dominant one might appear Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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to be in the global arena, must also depend on the regular support and cooperation of smaller states and trade networks. Ironically, what rings truest of all to the 21st century reader of this book is that, even back in the 18th century, it was the transnational trade and the business/capitalist networks of overseas Chinese merchants that prevailed despite strenuous state regulations and monopolies of both the Great Qing Empire and Siam under the Ayutthaya kings. At the end of the day, it is trade and capital— which is in itself without nationality and owes absolute loyalty only to the highest bidder—that has the final say on the balance of power, not only within the Greater East Asian region, but also in the wider global arena as a whole. Wasana Wongsurawat A Man in Saffron Robes: A Rainy Season as a Buddhist Monk at a Hilltop Temple in Northern Thailand by Maitree Limpichart, translated by Stephen Landau (New York: Middle Way Multimedia & Publishing Services, 2013). ISBN 978-1481863094. US$15.12. Titled Khon Nai Phaa Leuang in the original Thai edition, published in 1980, Maitree Limpichart’s memoir documents his decision and early preparation to enter the monkhood, the reasons why he decided to spend his retreat at the remote hilltop temple, Wat Prathat Doi Kong Mu, in the (then) even remoter province of Mae Hong Son before describing his daily routine, feelings and thoughts during that period. This edition is a translation of Maitree’s book by Stephen Landau, a former Peace Corps volunteer and later staff member in Thailand; his company is also the publisher of this book, which has previously published photos of Maitree’s ordination and other events during his monkhood. The book is divided into 42 vignettes, or short stories, which makes reading the entire book in sequence, or choosing particular stories at random, easy enough. This memoir harks back to a different era, but not that far back. Bangkok was a large bustling metropolis where the pressures of urban life were ubiquitous. By comparison, Mae Hong Son was still cut off from the rest of the country. Yet, in 1974, Maitree Limpichart, the renowned author, newspaper columnist and former Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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government official, at the advanced age of thirty-three, left his wife and two children in Bangkok to don the saffron robes as a Buddhist monk for a period of three months during Phansa, or Buddhist Lent. In order to gain the most spiritual experience from his limited time, he decided to travel as far as possible from Bangkok to Mae Hong Son, situated close to Thailand’s north-west frontier with Myanmar. There he participated in the daily routine of the Sangha, the brotherhood of monks, and interacted with the local community. Maitree carefully considers what it means to become a monk in Thailand, the role of the Sangha in Thai society, the changes taking place in rural life and the growing dichotomy between agrarian and urban societies. This reviewer has attended several ceremonies for initiates to the monkhood, but had never previously considered the anxiety each man must feel on entering a completely new life with a new set of rules, if only temporarily. Maitree, as a monk, provides plenty of food for thought in this regard, saying, “….we are merely men in saffron robes—with all the frailty and imperfection that that implies—and nothing more.” (p. xxi) Maitree has a keen eye, and his description of his fellow monks, the temple environment and his daily routine during his time in the Sangha, not to mention the remote backdrop and stunning scenery of Mae Hong Son, makes for a number of interesting, if brief, storylines. These include among others: preparing for and enduring the initiation ceremony; the trials of putting on the saffron robe so that it does not fall down; the difficulties of learning various prayers; dealing with family and friends as a monk; the terrible hunger pains initiates experience when not eating after noon; interaction with other monks and lay people; the position in society of, and discrimination and poverty endured by, hill tribes peoples; the role and issue of Buddhist faith itself and the position of the Sangha in Thai society; and disrobing and returning to lay life. It is clear from Maitree’s positive description of his time in the Sangha that, despite his initial trepidation and difficulties, homesickness and actually falling ill, his time as a monk “brought me peace of mind and the greatest happiness I’ve known.” (p. 279) Stephen Landau’s translation turns Maitree’s narrative into an easy and comprehensible read, even for those not thoroughly familiar with the Thai ceremonies and rituals described. For those considering their routine lives on the treadmill of urban life, this lovely little book certainly provides plenty to contemplate. Paul Bromberg

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Khmer Bronzes: New Interpretations of the Past by Emma C. Bunker and Douglas Latchford (Chicago: Art Media Resources, 2011). ISBN 978 1 58886 111 5 (hard). US$120. The study of Khmer bronze sculpture and ritual/ceremonial objects has experienced a groundswell in recent years. Among the most notable developments is the discovery of a bronze-making workshop north of the Royal Palace in Angkor Thom, the only Angkor-era bronze production workshop that has thus far come to light (Polkinghorne 2014-2015). Substantial portions of major international exhibitions in 1997-1998 (Jessup & Zéphir 1997) and 2006-2007 (Lobo & Jessup 2006) were devoted to bronzes, and recent museum catalogues of collections in Phnom Penh (Dalsheimer 2001) and Paris (Baptiste & Zéphir 2008) have included significant coverage of them as well. In 2010-2011 visitors to the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery (Washington, D.C.) and the J. Paul Getty Museum (Los Angeles) were treated to Gods of Angkor (Cort & Jett 2010), an important exhibit consisting of bronzes selected from the National Museum of Cambodia in Phnom Penh. Right on its heels, and covering some of the same objects but also many more, came this hefty volume, by far the most thorough and ambitious study of Khmer bronze art ever published. It is the third and reportedly final installment of Bunker and Latchford’s series on ancient Khmer art (Bunker & Latchford 2004, 2008). The finest of the three, Khmer Bronzes: New Interpretations of the Past exhibits many of the same strengths, challenges, and risks of the previous books as noted, for example, in a review of Bunker and Latchford’s Adoration and Glory: The Golden Age of Khmer Art (Baptiste & Zéphir 2004). Because several bronze sculptures featured in this book were previously published by Bunker and Latchford, many for the first time and often with extensive discussions scattered across their publications, it is helpful to read Khmer Bronzes with the previous two volumes close at hand. Like their previous books, a main strength of Khmer Bronzes is its multifaceted perspective that bridges art history, archaeology, technical analysis, and art connoisseurship. Khmer Bronzes is a collaborative effort that includes, in addition to the main text by Bunker and Latchford, contributions by TzeHuey Chiou-Peng, Pieter Meyers, Peter D. Sharrock, and Hiram Woodward. The first three chapters examine different aspects of bronze metallurgy in Southeast Asia and Yunnan prior to the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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mid-1st millennium CE. Chapter 1, by Bunker and Latchford, provides a summary of “The Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys in Cambodia.” Chapter 2 by TzeHuey Chiou-Peng discusses “The Technical History of Early Asian Kettledrums” with a primary focus on Yunnan. According to her, the bronze kettledrum tradition originated with the Wanjiaba drums. The earliest of these is often argued to date to the 7th century BCE, a date supported by Chiou-Peng, but international scholarly consensus regarding the chronology and influence of the Wanjiaba drums is lacking. She argues that “a distinct Yunnan metallurgical tradition” relying on piece-mold casting led to the development of the famous Heger I type kettledrums, including those associated with Dong Son (or Đông Sơn) civilization in northern Vietnam, and that lost-wax casting commenced in Yunnan during the 4th century BCE, but only then as a supplementary technique for casting plaques and figural scenes on the lids of Dian drums and cowry shell containers (p. 25). In Chapter 3, “Casting Technology in Cambodia and Related Southeast Asian Civilizations,” Pieter Meyers builds on the data provided by Chiou-Peng to argue, contrary to the opinions of many scholars, that the lost-wax casting technique (or a variation of it) was not used to produce the kettledrums associated with Dong Son civilization (Heger I type drums). Instead, according to Meyers, these drums, and related bronze objects like bells and gongs, were all produced with the piecemold casting technique derived from Yunnan. This technique, he says, disappeared in Vietnam ca. mid-1st millennium CE around the time that lost-wax casting was introduced to Southeast Asia from South Asia. As discussed in Chapter 4 by Bunker and Latchford, the lost-wax casting innovation first occurred in parts of Southeast Asia ca. 6th century to facilitate the production of three-dimensional Hindu and Buddhist figures, large sculptures of which were equipped with an internal “iron armature to support the wax-covered clay core during the casting process…” (p. 53). These essays are often quite compelling and provide a useful overview of some aspects of prehistoric Southeast Asian bronze traditions, but the picture they paint is rather incomplete. The well-known nationalistic debates over the origins, chronology, and stylistic sequence of bronze drums aside, the early chapters of this book give extremely short shrift to evidence from Vietnam and the role of (northern) Vietnam in the development of Southeast Asian metallurgical traditions. Other than a handful of references to key sources on Dong Son culture and bronzes published in Vietnam, there is little engagement with Vietnamese scholarship or with Vietnamese language sources. Given the immense scale of archaeological research in Vietnam, much of it in Vietnamese, this is indeed a major shortcoming. A higher level of reader confidence might have been attained had the authors engaged more comprehensively and directly with differing interpretations of the data advanced by Vietnamese scholars, as well as by scholars of other nationalities who have worked

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extensively in Vietnam (e.g. Japanese scholars).1 Similarly, the essays would have been strengthened had the authors included relevant archaeological evidence found in Vietnam and Laos and had they made more than a cursory reference to objects held in Vietnamese collections. For example, given the welcome attention by the authors to the technical aspects of bronze objects and their manufacture, it is striking that no mention is made of archaeological evidence that indicates the casting of bronze drums in northern Vietnam, including two fragments of a clay mold excavated in 1998 (discussed with citations in Calo 2014: 39-40). Pieter Meyers stresses detailed firsthand examination and technical analysis and states that his observations “were made based upon careful study of dozens of drums and associated objects” (pp. 36-37). Yet all of his examples of kettledrums said to be from Vietnam are drawn from a private collection in California (Chan Kieu Collection) with no information provided about either provenance (documented history of ownership/custody) or provenience (find spot). It is unclear whether his conclusions were at all informed by firsthand analysis of any of the “classic” examples of Dong Son (Heger I type) drums in Vietnamese museums or any of the bronze drums that have been discovered at known locations or by archaeologists in controlled excavations. However experienced or capable the analyst, technical arguments based on objects of unknown or undisclosed origin, rather than unimpeachable examples with known histories, is not sound methodology – if that is indeed what has occurred here; readers are provided no way of knowing otherwise. Given the potential impact of the arguments that Meyers makes, this reviewer eagerly awaits their confirmation by additional scholarship employing a more transparent, inclusive, and systematic methodology. Chapters 4-9, written by Bunker and Latchford and comprising the bulk of the book, present the history of Khmer and Khmer-related bronze art traditions, mostly Brahmanical and Buddhist, from the 7th through the 13th century. The main topics are the following: Pre-Angkorian images, primarily examples found in Cambodia and northeastern Thailand (Chapter 4); the “Early Angkor Period” (Chapter 5); the “Golden Age” of the Baphuon style (Chapter 7); the “Angkor Wat Period” (Chapter 8); the “Bayon Period” (Chapter 9); and “exotic Buddhist bronzes” (Chapter 6) Three examples will suffice here. Imamura (2010) offers somewhat differing opinions regarding the dating and significance of the drums known variably as the Wanjiaba type, pre-Heger I type drums, or Dong Son type D. In addition to the piece-mold and lost-wax casting methods, expertly discussed by Meyers, a “lost fiber” method has been suggested for the handles of a few Heger I type bronze drums (Imamura 1989). In several publications Nishimura Masanari (e.g. 2008: 76-78) observes the predominance of the piece-mold technique for so-called Pre-Heger I type and Heger I type bronze drums, but he argues that several early examples of these two types of drums were likely to have been produced using the lost-wax casting method, which he associates with localization occurring in Thailand and Vietnam (e.g. in Bình Định province). Did Meyers examine these drums? In any case, arguments such as these potentially complicate relatively straightforward theories of cultural transmission, sequences of style and technique, and attempts to date these developments. None of these perspectives are acknowledged or discussed in Khmer Bronzes.

1

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found in “Khmer territory” but imported from China, India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, and perhaps other parts of Southeast Asia. A major contribution of Chapters 6-9 is the rich information provided on the development of Khmer esoteric Buddhist artistic traditions beginning perhaps as early as the late 8th century and culminating in the strongly Vajrayāna Buddhist milieu of King Jayavarman VII in the late 12th and the early 13th century. Specific aspects of the development of tantric/esoteric Buddhist art are treated in several of the book’s appendixes. In Appendix 2, Peter D. Sharrock identifies the naga-enthroned Buddha images of Angkorian art as the Buddha Vairocana. In Appendix 3, Sharrock examines the iconography of a ca. 11th-century Buddhist bronze sculpture in the National Museum of Cambodia and identifies it as the supreme cosmic Buddha Vajrasattva. Appendix 4, by Hiram Woodward, argues that several stone and bronze figures, seated and holding a vajra and bell, should be identified as Bhaiṣajyaguru, the Medicine Buddha. Related triadic images and image pedestals can, he furthermore argues, be associated with the Medicine Buddha flanked by the bodhisattvas Sūryaprabha (Sunlight) and Candraprabha (Moonlight). These appendixes introduce important information for understanding the iconography of late Angkorian bronze sculpture, but the issues are complex and are best approached with knowledge of other publications by Sharrock and Woodward, many of which are cited. Appendix 5, by Bunker, examines five-headed Śiva images in Khmer art. She argues that they need to be distinguished according to their iconography as “the great deity Mahesha, Shiva’s supreme manifestation, and Bhairava, his horrific aspect” (p. 503) and that at least one late example of Mahesha displays iconography indicating “the deity’s complete Vajrayana transformation” (p. 508). According to their introduction, the goals of Khmer Bronzes are to highlight the “Khmer genius” in copper-alloy metallurgy “by studying the actual bronzes as unique records in themselves,” to highlight the uniquely “Khmer qualities” of the objects, and to examine “early Khmer bronze sculpture in its own cultural context with merits of its own” (p. x). Certainly, these are worthwhile and laudable aims, but the insistent linkage of a monolithic Khmer ethnicity with styles of art and ancient polities is naïve and anachronistic. The authors write, for example, that “[t]housands of bronzes created by Khmer artisans have been recovered from all over Cambodia, southern Laos, southwest Vietnam, and northeast Thailand, regions that once belonged to the great Khmer Empire…” (p. x). Sweeping assertions about the supposed ethnicity of ancient artists working across a vast and culturally variegated territory are not only unverifiable, but are also unintentionally problematized by the authors themselves in a brief discussion (pp. 461-2) of the famed iron-working tradition of the Kuy ethnic group, inhabitants of northern and northeastern Cambodia, northeastern Thailand, and southern Laos. It is, of course, not my intention to question the predominantly Khmer character of Angkor; I am not at all seeking to resuscitate the French Colonial discursive Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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specter of a supposedly vanished or degenerate Khmer race (Edwards 2007: 10-39), nor a return to the Thai nationalist use of the term “Khom” to disassociate the Khmer from Angkor (Keyes 1991: 277-278). But I am advocating greater critical sensitivity to the “dynamic and situational aspects of ethnicity” (Jones 1997: 72-83) vis-à-vis archaeology and art history, particularly in an age of heightened tensions over national heritage often construed in stridently exclusivist terms. Thankfully the rather extravagant ethnic essentialism that occurs in the Introduction and the Concluding Remarks (Chapter 10) of Khmer Bronzes is not characteristic of the rest of the book. With Khmer Bronzes Bunker and Latchford seek to assemble “a large range” of objects that “will provide a critical mass that can clarify the significance of bronze in the development of Khmer culture” (p. xi). Like another recent book on Khmer bronzes (Zefferys, Zefferys & Stone 2001), but far exceeding it in scope of coverage and caliber of scholarship and presentation, Khmer Bronzes includes examples of bronze sculpture, many of them of extraordinary high quality, drawn from numerous public museums and private collections. Particularly well-represented in Khmer Bronzes are the collections of the National Museum of Cambodia in Phnom Penh (approximately sixty pieces), the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York (approximately eight featured pieces), and at least a dozen private collections in Thailand, Europe, and the United States (over 145 pieces) with many of the privately held pieces presumably owned by Latchford and/or his family members. Also included are over twenty-five bronzes from a dozen public museums in the United States and several sculptures from museums in Australia and Taiwan. In contrast, European museum collections, many of which have important Khmer bronzes, are poorly served here, with just one sculpture each from the Musée Guimet in Paris and the Museum of Asian Art in Berlin. Other than the National Museum of Cambodia, Southeast Asian museums are also neglected. In spite of the substantial holdings of important Khmer-related bronze sculpture in various branches of Thailand’s National Museum system, only two sculptures from museums in Thailand are included (one each from the Phimai National Museum and the privately run Muang Boran Collection). There is nothing at all from the other branches of Thailand’s National Museum, including the Bangkok National Museum, and there is no coverage whatsoever of Khmer-related material in collections in Laos (e.g. Hawixbrock et al. 2012: 71-79) or Vietnam (e.g. Guy 2014: figs. 92, 96, cat. no. 61). In Appendix 6, however, Bunker helpfully reassembles six 12th-13th century bronzes, first published by Sherman E. Lee in 1943, that were found in 1919 near Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City) and are now dispersed in six different collections in the United States. In general, with the exception of some reservations previously expressed regarding Chapters 1-3, the research on display in Khmer Bronzes is thorough, up-to-date, well-annotated, and followed by a lengthy and useful bibliography. Close technical, stylistic, and iconographic analysis of the bronze objects sheds new light on the development of Khmer and related bronze traditions, casting Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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techniques, regional and period characteristics, artistic and technological influences, and religious changes. The discussion is accompanied by hundreds of high-quality photographs, many of them occupying a full-page, and with numerous featured artworks presented in multiple angles and with close-up detail shots. Presented here are a number of previously unpublished works. Some of them are revelations of beauty and great historical significance. Among the most spectacular are a ca. 7th century four-armed goddess (figs. 4.6a-e) closely related to Cham art and a ca. mid9th century Lokeśvara (figs. 5.3a-h), both of which are accompanied by copies of authenticity testing and dating documents (presented in Appendix 1). In contrast to the high-quality photographs of the featured artworks, some of the comparative photographic material, maps, etc. are of rather uneven quality and reflect the original published source from which they were drawn. A book of ostensibly such high production value could have benefited from somewhat more diligent copyediting. It contains quite a few typographical errors and misspelled words (e.g. “clay” often appearing as “^Iclay”). Chapter 3 suffers from a rather strange system of multiple sequential superscript notations at the end of sentences (e.g. “26, 27, and 28” and “35, 36, 37”) and, in several instances, unnecessarily complicates matters by placing numbered superscript endnote references within the endnotes themselves. Throughout the book, a number of cross references and abbreviated citations in the endnotes are not listed in full in the Bibliography, which makes certain aspects of the presentation difficult to follow-up. Overall, Khmer Bronzes is both informative and provocative. Some readers may understandably approach it with ambivalence and even some trepidation. Many of the artworks published in this book are owned by one of the co-authors, Douglas Latchford, and/or, it seems, by members of his family. An avid collector and connoisseur of Khmer art for nearly sixty years, Latchford is able, perhaps uniquely, to provide invaluable information about these artworks and their histories. However, he has come under scrutiny for his alleged role in the acquisition and sale of looted Cambodian art (Mashberg 2012). Most notably this was in connection to questions surrounding the now famous Koh Ker Duryodhana statue that, in December 2013, Sotheby’s agreed to return to Cambodia under the pressure of a civil forfeiture suit filed by the United States attorney’s office in Manhattan (United States v. 10th Century Cambodian Sandstone Sculpture) (Roasa 2013). Khmer Bronzes presents many previously unknown artworks held in private collections and museums, provides little or no documentation of ownership history, and, unfortunately, as is so often the case, the authors are able, or willing, to present only the bare minimum information about object location and circumstances of discovery. It collates these newly revealed objects with more widely known examples that may or may not have better understood histories. It skillfully weaves all of these beautifully photographed artworks into a thoughtful and well-researched art historical narrative while simultaneously offering many insights into the technical and stylistic Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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development of Khmer art. One might well argue that publications such as this, whether intentionally or not, may support questionable acquisition and collecting practices, perhaps stymie heritage management and archaeological research, and could be used to legitimate objects with potentially contested provenance and/or controversial provenience histories. On the face of it, Bunker and Latchford take a pragmatic approach and conclude by saying that “[a]ny bronze found in Khmer territory should be studied and appreciated, as it may provide evidence leading to significant re-interpretations of Cambodia’s glorious past and encourage future research” (p. 467). As Emma Bunker (2005: 312) writes elsewhere, “[i]gnoring works of art for lack of documentation is a disservice to scholarship. We have an obligation to the object and to the acquisition of any knowledge that it might hold.” We also have an obligation to pursue scholarship and art collecting ethically and with balanced consideration of the often-competing interests of various national public and political constituencies, archaeologists, art historians, curators, collectors, dealers, and others. Khmer Bronzes, together with Bunker and Latchford’s two previous books will no doubt fuel debates surrounding these tangled issues for some time to come. It is an important book, both as a source of potential controversy and as groundbreaking scholarship. Paul A. Lavy References Baptiste, Pierre and Thierry Zéphir, 2004. Review of Adoration and Glory: The Golden Age of Khmer Art, by Emma C. Bunker and Douglas Latchford. Arts Asiatiques vol. 59: pp. 182-184. ____, 2008. L’art khmer dans les collections du Musée Guimet. Paris: Réunion des musées nationaux. Bunker, Emma C., 2005. “The Acquisition and Ownership of Antiquities in Today’s Age of Transition.” In Kate Fitz Gibbon (ed.), Who Owns the Past? Cultural Policy, Cultural Property, and the Law. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, pp. 311-317. Bunker, Emma C. and Douglas [A.J.] Latchford, 2004. Adoration and Glory: The Golden Age of Khmer Art. Chicago: Art Media Resources. ____ 2008. Khmer Gold: Gifts for the Gods. Chicago: Art Media Resources. Calo, Ambra, 2014. Trails of Bronze Drums across Early Southeast Asia: Exchange Routes and Connected Cultural Spheres. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Cort, Louise Allison and Paul Jett (eds.), 2010. Gods of Angkor: Bronzes from the National Museum of Cambodia. Washington, D.C.: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institute. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Dalsheimer, Nadine, 2001. Les collections du Musée national de Phnom Penh: l’art du Cambodge ancien. Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient. Edwards, Penny, 2007. Cambodge: The Cultivation of a Nation, 1860-1945. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Guy, John (ed.), 2014. Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Hawixbrock, Christine, Claude Jacques, Marielle Santoni, Viengkèo Souksavatdy, and Valérie Zaleski, 2012. Collections du musée de Vat Phu / Vat Phu Museum collections. Champassak, Laos: Département du Patrimoine mondial de Vat Phu – Champassak. Imamura, Keiji, 1989. “A Unique Casting Method Discerned on the Handles of Some Bronze Drums of Heger I Type.” Bulletin of the Department of Archaeology (The University of Tokyo) vol. 8: pp. 99-105 [text in Japanese and English]. ____, 2010. “The Distribution of Bronze Drums of the Heger I and Pre-I Types: Temporal Changes and Historical Background.” Bulletin of the Department of Archaeology (The University of Tokyo) vol. 24: pp. 29-44. Jessup, Helen Ibbitson and Thierry Zéphir (eds.), 1997. Sculpture of Angkor and Ancient Cambodia: Millennium of Glory. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art. Jones, Siân, 1997. The Archaeology of Ethnicity: Constructing Identities in the Past and Present. London: Routledge. Keyes, Charles F., 1991. “The Case of the Purloined Lintel: The Politics of a Khmer Shrine as a Thai National Treasure.” In Craig J. Reynolds (ed.), National Identity and Its Defenders, Thailand, 1939-1989. Clayton, Victoria: Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, pp. 261-292. Lobo, Wibke and Helen Ibbitson Jessup (eds.), 2006. Angkor: Göttliches Erbe Kambodschas. Munich: Prestel. Mashberg, Tom, 2012. “Claims of Looting Shadow Expert in Khmer Art.” The New York Times, December 12, 2012. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/13/arts/ design/us-links-collector-to-statue-in-khmer-looting-case.html?_r=0. Nishimura, Masanari, 2008. “Bronze Drums Unearthed around the South China Sea and Their Cultural Context.” Vietnam Archaeology no. 3, pp. 73-83. Polkinghorne, Martin, 2014-2015. “The Royal Palace Workshop of Angkor.” In Focus: The Center for Khmer Studies no. 12: pp. 24-25. Roasa, Dustin, 2013. “Fate of a Statue: The Case of the Duryodhana.” Los Angeles Review of Books, October 20, 2013. http://lareviewofbooks.org/essay/fate-ofa-statue-the-case-of-the-duryodhana. Zefferys, Marlene L., Nicholas S. Zefferys, and Jeffrey Stone, 2001. Heaven and Empire: Khmer Bronzes from the 9th to the 15th Centuries. Bangkok: White Lotus. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Auf der Suche nach einer grenzüberschreitenden Wissenschaftskultur. Gesammelte Aufsätze 2001-2013 by Chetana Nagavajara (Nakhon Pathom: Department of German, Silpakorn University, 2013). ISBN 978-974-641-491-3. Chetana Nagavajara was educated at the University of Cambridge, graduating in French language and literature. He then graduated from the Eberhard-Karls-Universität Tübingen in German language and literature with specialization in comparative literature studies, a discipline known in German as Komparatistik. His academic career was spent at Silpakorn University, from which he retired as professor emeritus. The focus of his research and publications has been on comparative studies of American, English, French, German and Thai cultures, especially their literature, performing arts, and music. He was elected an Honorary Member of the Siam Society in 2004. This volume contains nineteen papers, nine of them previously unpublished, compiled as a tribute to his mentor, Eberhard Lämmert, on his 89th birthday in 2013. The title is perhaps best translated as In Search of a Transboundary Culture of Humanities.1 This compendium is rich in original, seminal contributions to ongoing deliberations on the rationale that underlies endeavors geared toward making progress in enhancing interaction across cultures. Its ultimate goal is to find the common values inherent in the heritage of diverse cultural traditions. Chetana, in his own words, does not like to develop a thought in a single, straight line. He likens his style of presenting thoughts, deliberations, reflections, findings, diagnoses, descriptions, and conclusions to the technique applied by a visual artist in creating a “collage.” Each of the author’s papers is a “collage” in itself, and the compendium is a collection of “collages.” The strong underlying theme of this outstanding collection is the importance of ethical values, both in distinguishing mere technical expertise from true art, and in providing a common set of standards to unite the world. By using a Buddhist Chetana Nagavajara also published Bridging Cultural Divides: Collected Essays and Reviews 2006-2014 (Bangkok: Faculty of Arts, Silpakorn University, 2014). This English-language collection, also dedicated to Eberhard Lämmert, contains fifteen essays, which cover the same themes as the German-language collection, and in some cases are translations or close adaptation, along with 25 review articles not found in the German collection. 1

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perspective to analyze classic European works, and using his own Europe-educated perspective to analyze classic Thai works, Chetana builds towards a theory of a transboundary culture of humanities, a grenzüberschreitende Wissenschaftskultur that transcends geographical regions, nation states, religious tenets, languages, and cultures. In his role as a scholar of comparative culture and especially of literary studies, Chetana appears intent on exploring unbeaten tracks to trace, detect, explore and chart the links, so as to transcend boundaries and to encompass diverse Wertewelten, consensually valued socio-cultural phenomena on a global scale, with the implicit intention of describing, diagnosing, analyzing, and ultimately defining a universal science of humanities. Chetana examines encounters between cultures in order to foster appreciation and to build bridges through mutual understanding. He teases out similarities and relationships across cultures and artistic disciplines. He uses the German word Ungereimtheiten which, depending on the context, has a meaning somewhere along a spectrum from inconsistency or irregularity to cheating or even corruption, to highlight the variation in thinking when expressed in German, English, French, or Thai. Given the location of this review, I will concentrate on the papers relevant to Thailand, which focus on the tradition of improvisation, the search for indigenous theory, and critical discourse. Chetana highlights the importance of teaching morality, comprising Buddhist principles, words of wisdom derived from the cultures of India, Persia and China, and recorded indigenous wisdom as well. These values, norms and sanctions, which have been internalized and creatively adapted, serve as sources of inspiration for poetry in Thailand’s language. Improvisation is the core of Thailand’s culture. Its traditional folk theatre does not know any original text versions. Touring groups rely on well-known stories, tales, narrations, legends, and epic poetry. The director and actors reach a consensus on how to make a drama evolve. As soon as actors are on stage, they must rely on their talent for improvising. Thailand’s actors – and musicians as well – are performing artists and creative artists at the same time. Improvisation is not merely a matter of form but an attitude towards living, or even a philosophy of leading one’s life. Its guiding principle is an unwavering belief in the inexhaustible spring of human creativity. In traditional music and folk theatre, improvisation has been of vital importance. It might be questioned, whether the talent for improvising is a virtue, across the board, or if it might become a nuisance. Improvisation allows for great flexibility and liberty to invent. The inclination to talkativeness might be related to improvising in literature, for improvisation triggers verbosity rather thanencouraging concise expression. Thailand’s traditional orchestra comprises two xylophones, placed at the front. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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One is called ranad ek, the first xylophone. It is in charge of the leading melody and is usually played by a musician who displays exuberant virtuosity, impressing the audience as the star of the orchestra. Placed alongside is the second xylophone called ranad thum, meaning the one with the soft voice. Its player seemingly serves to accompany the melody by interjecting some syncopes, taking care of the rhythm and occasionally paraphrasing the melody. This musician is often called the buffoon or joker of the orchestra. Appearances are deceptive, though. Very often the master of the orchestra himself plays the second xylophone, and in truth is leading the orchestra by availing himself of the greater freedom to improvise. Other members of the orchestra are bound to pay attention to the master who may vary the tempo. Chetana’s “theory of the second xylophone” explains some aspects of Thailand’s culture, and in the considered opinion of some observers even reflects its national character. The aesthetic of restraint is paradoxical in that Thailand’s people display a tendency towards verbosity, even somewhat annoying chatter. On reflection, however, this exuberance in using words is the root of the great diversity of popular culture. Folksongs often take the form of a dialogue in verse between women and men, delighting the audience members who appreciate the witty repartee. The answer to this paradox lies in the importance of the middle path. After all, in social life the dictum that prevails is “speech is silver, silence is golden.” In social life and particularly public affairs, one may gain the impression that Thailand’s population is neither hesitant nor reluctant to improvise their own lives. The perpetual coming-and-going in Thailand’s politics, for example, adversely affects society’s stability. From an aesthetic perspective, improvisation is a form of rebellion against a fixed script -- in literature, drama, or music -- which may become petrified. This thought is germane to the mode of living according to Buddhist principles. In a world of impermanence, any idea of the immortality of works of art can only be illusion. Improvisation allows expression of the indelible creativity of human beings. Thailand’s oral culture is not merely a literary phenomenon or a principle underlying the arts but reflects an attitude towards living, perhaps even a sort of Asian philosophy of life. This oral tradition conveys its wealth through direct contact and shared experience among human beings, with each generation eager to pass on the heritage, thereby augmenting and enriching it. Any losses are not regretted. What had been said, remains said – it cannot be revoked or regained. The memory alone shows the path to the future. This mode of thinking shows trust in the creative power of humankind which is not restricted to any particular generation or any specific epoch in history. Chetana raises the question whether Thailand’s literary tradition has any consciousness of theory. Are authors, intellectuals and scholars capable of thinking in theoretical terms? Chetana’s search for indigenous theories has not yielded, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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in his own words, any solid corpus or set of theorems that could be deemed selfexplanatory. Yet Thailand’s culture is very rich in implicit theory that deserves to be explicated. Theories that are embedded in the mode of living and the cultural heritage can be discovered by a process akin to archeology, but that should be only a first step. Further stages of systematic reconstruction are needed to arrive at a better understanding of one’s own culture as a means of building self-knowledge. Chetana stressed that literacy does not simply entail “being capable of reading, writing and arithmetic,” as propagated by UNESCO. Literacy also implies critical reflection which underpins the doctrine of free speech. According to Chetana, criticism is hardly acceptable in Thailand. Whoever criticizes frankly runs the risk of annoying friends and colleagues alike. A gentle, personal hint about some weak point in one’s own work will always be preferred over any published statement. That such attitudes are common is clear from research on criticism conducted by a team under the auspices of the Thailand Research Fund (TRF). These attitudes should not be mistaken for a lack of capability to criticize. Most likely, Thailand’s culture of criticism is closely tied to oral tradition. Newspapers accept critical articles by university teachers who are ready and willing to sign their names and shoulder the responsibility for their published text. Professors of high repute write for daily newspapers and popular magazines, instead of concentrating on producing learned papers for publication in journals read by their academic colleagues alone. Chetana stresses that criticism at its best can becomes a voice of society and a voice for society. Peaceful demonstrations staged in Thailand’s capital city and some provinces from February until April 2006 blasted away at the corruption of the government and bureaucracy. While political rhetoric in parliament is stagnant, eloquence flourishes among the protest movements. While politicians grub around for ways to make money, ethics and morality are the message coming from the mobs on the streets. The combination of enlightening rationality, solid evidence, fervent persuasiveness, and literary refinement that emerged from the demonstrations achieved standards of rhetoric not seen for years. Irrespective of the serious intentions of the movement, there was room for humor. A song, using a folk tune and entitled “Square Face” named the misdeeds of a political leader and his followers in phenomenal language of prosodic perfection. Karl E. Weber

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Exploration and Irony in Studies of Siam over Forty Years, by Benedict R. O’G. Anderson, with an introduction by Tamara Loos (Ithaca: Cornell University Southeast Asia Program Publications, 2014) ISBN hc 978-0-87727-793-4, pb 9780-87727-763-7. US$ 51.95 (hard), 23.95 (paper) on Amazon. Between 1977 and 1985, Ben Anderson published three essays which remain among the most read and most referenced studies of modern Thailand. All three focus in different ways on the extraordinary period from the student uprising of October 1973 to the bloody coup and massacre of 6 October 1976. All three are fascinated by the political role and cultural stance of the Bangkok middle class, and the position of the Thai monarchy. In “Withdrawal Symptoms: Social and Cultural Aspects of the October 6 Coup,” Anderson examines the interplay between the American impact on Thailand, the power of the Thai military, and the political stance of the middle class. The essay ends, rather prophetically, by flagging “the process whereby the right gradually concedes, almost without being aware of it, that it is engaged in civil war.” In “Introduction to In the Mirror,” a collection of short stories in translation, he delves deeper into the rapid creation of a new middle class in the “American era,” and the appearance of radicalized cultural vanguard. In “Studies of the Thai State: The State of Thai Studies,” Anderson takes Siam’s proud claim of evading colonialism and turns it on its head—finding this “success” responsible for the parochialism and pervasive conservatism in Thai politics and its study. At the time of these essays, Anderson was best known as an expert on Indonesia. Over the same span of their publication he also published the book, Imagined Communities, which gave him a worldwide reputation. In 1990, he added a fourth stellar article on Thailand, “Murder and Progress in Modern Siam,” which argued that the rise of political violence, especially over elections, signaled that democracy had at last caught the attention of a larger constituency than the students and intellectuals, and “something really new is now in place.” In the introduction to this collection of Anderson’s writings on Siam, Tamara Loos traces the author’s intellectual biography, starting with a peripatetic childhood, an Eton-Cambridge education in the classics, and a somewhat chance transition to Cornell University and the study of Southeast Asia in 1958. Between 1993 and Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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2006, when Anderson’s interests returned to Indonesia, and ranged further to the Philippines, he wrote nothing on Thailand. The latter part of this collection contains essays and fragments that appeared between 2006 and 2013. Where the 1976 coup was inspiration for the first set of essays, the 2006 coup hovers in the background of this second set. The middle class and the monarchy are again in the center of the frame. And, depressingly, many of Anderson’s themes still work despite 30 years of extraordinary change in Thailand’s society. This second batch of essays is not overtly about politics. There are two articles on film, particularly a long discourse on the reception of Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Sat pralaat, an essay on public iconography from statues to billboards, and some shorter squibs. As Loos notes in her introduction, and Anderson in a bridging essay, the radicals that fascinated Anderson in the 1970s had grown up and calmed down by the 2000s. The spirit of defiance was now to be found amongst women overthrowing male bias, gays cheerfully upending cultural stereotypes, and cultural radicals bamboozling the guardians of middle-class values. These essays appeared first in Thai, mostly in the cultural journal, An, and only later in English translation. This is a very useful publication. The original essays have been slightly corrected but not updated in any way. The introduction to In the Mirror contains only the general background, not the appreciation of each of the stories in the collection and their authors (I think this exclusion is a pity). The later pieces may be a surprise to some who know only Anderson’s early work. The introduction by Loos provides a lot of background little known outside the ranks of the Cornell mafia, and steers a fine line between eulogy and critical appreciation. In the current context, this collection should be read by anyone moved to ask, “What went wrong?” Chris Baker

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The Grand Palace and Old Bangkok by Naengnoi Suksri, Narisa Chakrabongse, Thanit Limpabandhu, with photography by Paisarn Piemmettawat. (Bangkok: River Books, 2014). ISBN 978-974-9863-41-1 (soft). Visitors to Bangkok in the old days could scarcely know what to expect as they stepped off the boat. Indeed, the traveler in 1914 had only a Baedeker Guide to turn to—in German—in which Siam was lumped together with India, Malaya, Burma, and Java. Fast-forward a hundred years, to 2014, and the number of books on Thailand would require a fleet of tuk-tuks to transport. In fact, few topics in Thai life have not escaped investigation, from the nation’s nightlife to its spiritual life, from its flora to fauna. Even Bangkok’s celebrated ‘street food’ has spawned a few fresh titles. Paradoxically, as the number of books has mushroomed, the caliber has witnessed a corresponding decline. Hence, discerning visitors and Bangkok residents alike will welcome this new work on the Grand Palace and nearby historical and cultural sites. No single book has hitherto covered quite the same ground and with such depth, thereby filling a tremendous vacuum. Moreover, with special permission accorded from His Majesty the King, River Books was able to photograph the interiors of many royal buildings that are completely off limits to the public. Bangkok was born from the ashes of Ayutthaya, the former capital besieged by Burmese forces in 1767. A new capital arose the following year in Thonburi, situated opposite modern Bangkok on the west bank of the Chao Phraya River. A coup transpired in 1782 and a general named Chao Phraya Chakri emerged as king, known as Rama I (1782-1809) and founder of the current Chakri dynasty. The royal family identified itself with Rama, the champion of the Sanskrit epic, the Ramayana. The palace shifted from Thonburi across the river to its present location and on 21 April 1782 the symbolic ‘city-pillar’ was erected, marking the city’s birth. The citypillar lies just outside the palace walls and is protected by a pavilion constructed in 1978. The original wooden pillar still survives, gilded and capped with a lotus finial. Although few tourists are aware of the pillar, it is one of city’s major sacred spots, together with the nearby Emerald Buddha and the Erawan shrine in central Bangkok. The Chakri dynasty’s imprint on Bangkok is incalculable in as much as the city’s key monuments are tied to the patronage and cosmopolitan taste of its rulers Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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over a two hundred-year period, much like the Medicis in Florence or the Nasrids in Granada. All of the nine Chakri rulers are captured in a series of rather recent oil paintings, which are reproduced in the Appendices, accompanied by their formal titles, regnal dates and a list of the many monuments for which they are credited. By the mid-19th century the Chakri monarchs chose to move Siam into the modern world, adopting Western technology, such as steam trains and the telegraph. European-style architecture also first appeared, together with Western modes of dressing. Coexisting with this wave of foreign influence were traditional Siamese court rituals that represented a complex blend of Theravada Buddhism and ‘Brahmanism’ that had evolved on Thai soil over nearly two millennia. The ancient plough ceremony is but one of these elaborate ceremonies, testimony to the tenacity of these traditions. A ten-page overview in the Appendices reviews the most important of these time-honored rituals, peppered with antique photographs. A long and fascinating description of royal cremations is paired with old and new photographs of processions transporting the funeral urn. The key monuments open to the public are treated in a long section, “Emerald Buddha Temple Compound”. The centerpiece is the Emerald Buddha shrine which merits twenty-three pages, with nearly double that number of photographs. Carved from green jade, this venerated image is emblematic of the Chakri dynasty. Its rich history is recounted on one page, with an instructive map indicating this Buddha’s peripatetic progression over hundreds of years and hundreds of kilometers from its original home in Chiang Rai. The precious image was eventually seized in Vientiane and taken to Thonburi in 1784 before it entered the Grand Palace in Bangkok. The image rests on an elaborate high throne dating from the reign of Rama I. Sculptures placed on three ascending tiers are identified in three useful diagrams and the pedigree of each image is noted in the text. A marble throne at the base of the Emerald Buddha, imported from Europe early in the 19th century, appears at first glance to be out of place in this most sacred royal sanctum but is another poignant reminder of how East and West comingle effortlessly even within such an environment. The Emerald Buddha hall and other monuments are encompassed within a covered corridor embellished with 178 large murals devoted to the entire Ramayana, the story of Rama’s quest for his kidnapped sweetheart, Sita. King Rama I himself produced a version of this classic epic, known as the Ramakien, a measure of the dynasty’s identification with this ancient tale. Although the original murals from the late 18th century have been extensively ‘refreshed’ and ‘restored’ in the last hundred years, the animated compositions are immediately engaging. The panels themselves are numbered and correspond to a synopsis of the story told over several pages. Linking the murals to the narrative of the story is another valuable contribution by the authors, since the paintings by themselves, without explanation, are pleasing but perplexing. That there are no posted explanations for the paintings in languages other than Thai greatly enhances the value of this newly published guide. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Other key structures within the compound wall are the Royal Pantheon, built during the reign of Rama IV (1851-1868) and now dedicated to all of the Chakri kings. Other sites include a Sri Lanka style gilded stupa and a remarkable miniature stone replica of Angkor Wat. Nearby is a group of small open pavilions dedicated to the nine Chakri kings, each represented by an unique insignia. The Second Reign for example is symbolized by a garuda holding two snakes, while the Sixth Reign is marked by a three-pronged thunderbolt. A full page shows all nine insignia in their pavilions, each dazzling with gold. Another highlight are pairs of creatures inhabiting the mythical Himaphan (Himavanta) Forest. The delightful demi-gods are depicted in two pages of color photographs. One of the figures, a fusion of a woman with a lion, has been cut out from its background and silhouetted against the white page, a stunning effect achieved by the layout team at River Books. The remainder of this first section of the guide is devoted to “Throne Halls and Royal Residences.” Less than a handful of the many buildings covered here are open to the public, but River Books takes the reader inside to these generally unknown interior spaces. These photographs illustrate the shift in styles over the various reigns. The most remarkable is a chapel dedicated to a Buddha image conveyed from Champasak, Laos, at the beginning of the 19th century. Restored in 1982, the inside walls are adorned with multiple fresh paintings showing many chief events in the history of the dynasty. A single panel features Rama VI (1910-1925) as a crown prince bidding farewell to troops at the advent of World War 1, beneath which is shown his marriage with great pageantry in 1924. The style is modeled deliberately on 19th century murals, but the compositions and details are executed with a modern flair. The second part of the guide, “Old Bangkok: The Heart of the City”, covers sites in the environs of the palace. The range is inclusive, from the sacred to the profane. For the latter, a page is given over to Khao San Road, a secular pilgrimage destination for backpackers from all over the world. Other sites include the lively Tha Phra Chan market specializing in a huge variety of amulets and Tha Chang pier with its mouthwatering selection of Thai dishes and fresh fruit. Another section explores the Saranrom Royal Garden, partially laid out by an Englishman, Henry Alabaster, and a segment on Wat Arun. The longest single section covers the Bangkok National Museum. The authors rightly liken a visit there to a “stroll through an old palace”. A handy plan of the museum makes getting lost impossible and the photographs are carefully selected to highlight both the masterpieces and lesser known works, such as a model steam train gifted to King Rama IV by Queen Victoria in 1855. The spectacular Weapons Room boasts in its center a model of a full-scale elephant surmounted by two men, ready for combat. Other sections describe Silpakorn University and the museum in the university’s compound dedicated to one of its foreign art instructors, Corrado Feroci, from Florence. Wat Pho, or Wat Chetuphon, is another jewel in Bangkok’s crown, Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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and this section records how King Rama I employed 20,000 workers to replace an older temple built on the same site. This guide is a treasure trove of information, photographs and helpful maps. Even for residents or those on frequent visits to the city, new surprises unfold across the pages. To properly explore all of the sites covered in the guide would take at least two weeks. It is hoped that River Book intends to issue guides on parts of Bangkok not treated in this volume, specifically the many 19th century temples with mural paintings throughout Thonburi and other important religious complexes, such as Wat Suthat and Wat Saket. The city never sits still and is constantly evolving, but this new book provides a unique window to its past. This book aptly demonstrates that Bangkok has a little something for everyone, from its multitude of historic shrines and museums to its vibrant street life. Dr. Johnson observed long ago, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life”. The same needs to be said about Bangkok. Donald M. Stadtner

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Ronald Duane Renard (1947-2014)

Ron Renard, a former Honorary Editor of the Journal of the Siam Society (1999-2001), departed us in Chiang Mai on December 27, 2014. Born in San Jose, California, on February 28, 1947, he became, with patience, work and honor, a bridge between America and Southeast Asia where he passed away after a fight with cancer. In Chiang Mai, he leaves his wife, Dr Anchalee Singhanetra, and in California, one daughter with two grandchildren. In spite of the natural grief of separation, those who have regarded him as a colleague or a friend cannot but celebrate and thank this man for the gifts he left us through his work, his friendship, and his life. I became a friend of Ron, not because he was a scholar, and a good one, but because he was a normal man, dedicated and decent; though, in the end, I was happy to come to appreciate and even love ... the scholar. He was a simple man; he often talked about being the only son of a director of the French Branch of the Bank of America in San Francisco and of a city clerk in San Mateo County. You knew immediately from his conversation that he was a genuine person, holding his parents in very high esteem. I even retain the impression that we could not have a meeting without him telling of, or alluding to, his father or his mother in one way or another. Searching for his roots, he went as far as exploring France for the places where his ancestors lived, testing, in passing, my ability to decipher and read archaic French in ancient legal documents dating to 1695. Alternately, he paid filial homage to his mother Lillian, the “Lily of the Valley” as she was called, by publishing her autobiography.1 Lily of Sunshine Valley: The Torre Family of Moss Beach, on the San Mateo County Coastside related by Great-Grandma Lillian Renard (Lily of the Valley) 2008-2013. Printed in 2013 for the celebration of her 100th birthday.

1

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From his father’s French lineage, he inherited the name “Renard” or “Fox”. A fox is often considered a cunning character, whom you should distrust. But there are always two sides to a coin or a person, and Ron actually chose the other nature of the fox, the primary and positive one—a person always curious about everything, never satisfied with what he knew, always on the run, sniffing around for an ever-evasive truth. That natural instinct made a conversation with him so inquisitive, so instructive, often surprising, and always enjoyable. From Sam Kok to the transliteration of Thai, from French literature to indigenous mores, from narcotics gossip to the Karen harp, we leaped, bounced and danced over mysteries, countries, centuries, and parted gratified with some new information, while longing for the next encounter. A dedicated scholar In his Curriculum Vitae, he defined his areas of expertise thus: “The history of northern Thailand and those Tai areas outside Thailand, hill tribe groups, and narcotic crop cultivation and control.” His training in history began far away, in several US universities: Santa Clara, San Jose and Hawaii. In contrast to most members of the academic tribe, and in spite of a short tenure at Assumption College in Bangkok and from 1980 onwards at Chiang Mai and Payap Universities in Chiang Mai, Ron did not build his experience and reputation at a world-famous university or a wellknown research institution. Yet these formative years were the soil in which he tested his research tools, sowed fruitful relationships, and harvested first-hand knowledge, soon ripe enough to be widely shared. Although I cannot remember exactly how we ended up knowing each other, the Informal Northern Thai Group may have been our first meeting place because he was one of the founding team in 1984. I recall that his first visit to my home was related to the preparation of the second edition of his “Southeast Asia Course Outlines”. I was soon seduced by a man who could dedicate so much of his time and energy to work on something that was not directly “useful” for himself, but could instead help younger students. This true, but hidden, Christian virtue of consideration for others, for the deprived, for the forgotten, would be one of his constant traits. After spending his prime as a researcher, teacher or archivist at the Chiang Mai universities, his professional attention broadened to the whole of continental Southeast Asia when he worked for various Agencies, Foundations, Programs, Projects, Funds, NGOs, and Ministries. As a consultant, manager, team-leader, or evaluator, he proved his ability working with others, analyzing a field or a problem, and proposing practical solutions. Covering agriculture, development, drug control, or opium reduction, his critical mind and knowledge were much in demand throughout Thailand, Laos, Burma, Cambodia, Vietnam and even China. Space is lacking here to list all his publications. After a dissertation on the Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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history of Thai-Karen relations,2 his next main work was a homage to Walter Vella, his greatly appreciated mentor on the history of Thailand.3 Then, two books stand out on his main fields of research, namely Northern Thailand, Burma and drugs: The Burmese Connection4 and Opium Reduction in Thailand.5 His final endeavor that he managed to complete, together with Dr Anchalee, is a book on the Mon-Khmer.6 He has left us with at least two unfinished projects, one on the oral literature of the Karen7 and another on Long Fiction of Southeast Asia.8 However, these books alone do not allow a proper appreciation of the scope of his work, exploiting history, geography and anthropology, thus making for a tasty cocktail. Beyond the dry and technical reports he had to write for various agencies, we can enjoy many of his articles that reflect the precision of his research as well as the variety of his interests. Buddhism, development, narcotics, ethnicity, food, governance, identities, interrelationships, literature, music, policy—no subject was foreign to him. In addition, we must not forget his many book reviews. Books are not only the noble fruits of culture, science and fiction, but were the objects of our shared “madness”. David Wyatt understood this “fault” and suggested that Ron send to Cornell University books published in Thailand that were difficult to find in the West. From then on, Ron would come to my house and spend an hour or two screening my duplicates. I had the impression that he was an amazing—almost monstrous— computer, able to remember which books the Library of Congress or American universities had and did not have. He would then appear at my coffee table with one or two dozen old, worn-out, books he would later dispatch to the New World. These book sessions concluded with at least a Singha beer, and sometimes with lunch, prompting a phone call to Anchalee that he was in “safe hands”.

“Kariang: History of Karen-T’ai Relations from the Beginnings to 1923.” A dissertation submitted to the Graduate Division of the University of Hawaii in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in History, May 1980, xxv+281 p. 3 Anuson Walter Vella. Chiang Mai, Mahawitthayalai Phayap. Walter F. Vella Fund and Honolulu, Center for Asian and Pacific Studies, University of Hawaii at Manoa (Southeast Asia Papers), xii+370 p. 4 The Burmese Connection: Illegal Drugs and the Making of the Golden Triangle. Boulder : Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1996 (Studies on the Impact of the Illegal Drug Trade, vol. 6). 5 Opium Reduction in Thailand 1970-2000: A Thirty-Year Journey. Chiang Mai: Silkworm Books, 2001. Initially prepared for the United Nations International Drug Control Programme, Regional Centre for East Asia and the Pacific, Bangkok, Thailand. Translated by Anchalee SinghanetrRenard as จากฝิ่นสู่เศรษฐกิจ พอเพียง : สามทศวรรษแห่งการเดินทาง. เชียงใหม่, ซิลค์เวอร์ม, 2555, 13+209 p. 6 Ronald D. Renard and Anchalee Singhanetra Renard, ed. Mon-Khmer Peoples of the Mekong Region. Chiang Mai: Chiang Mai University Press, 535 p. 7 Indigenous Oral Literature of the Karen. Preservation of the culture of the Karen people through their hta (traditional verse form), particularly as sung to the music of the Karen harp. 8 A bibliographic study of fiction on Southeast Asia in western languages; in press as an ebook from NUS Press, Singapore. 2

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Linking people Our conversations opened a window for me into the psychology of Americans, as well as to their indigenous customs for which he had a kind of distanced, perhaps Catholic, and almost French humor. He enlightened me on international academic fauna because he hardly missed a meeting or a conference dealing with Southeast Asia, Thai Studies or hill tribes. His recounting of these meetings was often graced with a twinkle in the eye, some witty remark, or an article in the hand. A simple man and a dedicated scholar, Ron was also a decent colleague. As an academic, he was the model of the perpetual student whose doctorate had not been the dead end of an inflated ego, but an avenue to the processing of a never-ending quest. As a historian, he was sensitive to the human factor, which is nowadays often obscured by ideological glasses. His empathy and even sympathy with his objects of study, whether Karen, Wa, Mon-Khmer, or others, reflected his deep love for humanity. And as a member of this humanity, as a man, he would never deceive you, which is why one could, with him, always feel firmly on the ground of mutual trust and respect. This was not limited to personal relationships; at the end of the day, I realize he was the impersonation of the connection between alien communities in Southeast Asia on one side, and between Southeast Asia and the world on the other. In what would be our final visit together last December, I saw him at home for our last book “affair”. I came out of his house emotionally affected by the fact that this conversation had been mainly about death, a death I knew was awaiting him, a death he tried his best to hide from others’ attention, a death we both contemplated, and in a way celebrated that day, communing around our last bottle of wine. I will end this short piece of perhaps a too personal remembrance by returning to basics as observed by Chief Crowfoot, born not so far from Ron’s own birthplace: What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

Ron, our dear fox, has run away from us, and we do hope he has finally found himself, beyond the sunset, in accordance with the faith which, I am sure, shaped the clay from which he was made. This little spark, who crossed our lives, will remain glittering, brilliant and alive in our hearts because he is already—through his works, his words, his assistance, his affection—a part of ourselves. That is why we should celebrate and even rejoice by being more complete from all he has given us. Louis Gabaude

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Grant Evans (1948–2014)

Grant Richard James Evans passed away on 16 September 2014 at his home in Vientiane, Laos. With his passing, the field of Lao Studies has lost its foremost scholar: the author of many books, articles and papers focusing primarily on social anthropology and history, but also including politics and economic development. Grant is survived by his wife of ten years, Keomany Somvandy, his daughter and only child, Elizabeth Dawn (Aranya) Evans, aged two, his older sister, Yvonne MacMullan, and her three children. Grant was born on 11 October 1948 in Berri, South Australia, son of Clement Evans, an air force officer. His mother, Dawn, originally from South Africa, was also in the airforce. Finishing secondary school at Mildura High School, Victoria, he continued his education at La Trobe University where he was involved in New Left politics. As he said in interview in 2009, “After 1975, all of this drifted away, and Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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I started to do a PhD thesis on the Southwest Pacific involving fieldwork in PapuaNew Guinea. It was partly a critique of leftist views of colonialism based on a more sophisticated new-leftist view of colonialism.”1 However, he soon became interested in the fracturing of the communist movements in Southeast Asia, and made a first research trip to Laos in 1980. He received his Ph.D. in Anthropology in 1983. Like so many Australian students who studied Laos after 1975, Grant’s early publications reflected his left-wing interests and mark the beginning of his academic career. Grant accepted a position at the University of Hong Kong in 1986, first as Lecturer and later as Reader, eventually retiring in 2008, but retaining Emeritus status. During this time he produced several books on Laos, including Lao Peasants Under Socialism, published by Yale University (1990), The Politics of Ritual and Remembrance (1998), and a collection of papers, Laos: Culture and Society (1999), as well as a number of articles. While in Hong Kong, he also helped to edit several wider studies of the anthropology of Asia: Asia’s Cultural Mosaic: An Anthropological Introduction (1993), widely used as a textbook, Hong Kong: The Anthropology of a Chinese Metropolis (1997), and Where China Meets Southeast Asia: Social and Cultural Change in the Border Region (2000). Later in his life, Grant’s interests shifted somewhat, focusing more on history. His Short History of Laos was published in 2002 and, interestingly, was translated into the Lao language and published in Thailand two years later with financial assistance from the government of Sweden. Ultimately, perhaps his most unique and valuable contribution to Lao studies, The Last Century of Lao Royalty: A Documentary History, was the result of many years’ research and visits to surviving members of the Lao royal family now residing in various countries around the world. The book the volume was well-received by many Lao people, especially older generation intellectuals. On retirement from Hong Kong, he took up residence in Vientiane, where he became a senior research fellow at the École français d’extrême-orient. After retirement, Grant decided to revisit the early history of the arrival of the Lao and other Tai groups in Southeast Asia. The first instalment of this project, “The Ai-Lao and the Nan Chao Kingdom,” was published in the JSS in 2014 and calls attention to the overlooked importance of Nan Chao, not only for its mistaken locus of Tai origins, but more importantly for its relevance as a Southeast Asian kingdom long neglected by serious study. The second instalment was presented as his keynote address to the 12th International Conference of Thai Studies in Sydney in April 2014. Smiling and gracious host to numerous soirees and lawn parties at his idyllic residence on the Mekong, Grant brought together diverse personalities, Lao The full interview by Boeke Rehbein is at www.laostudies.org/system/files/.../JLS-v2-i1-Jan2011rehbein.pdf.

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intelligentsia, visiting and resident foreign researchers, students, long-lost childhood friends and members of the local business community. The Lao cuisine was always exceptional thanks to his wife, Keo, and the conversation always lively, constantly nurtured by Grant’s good humour. He will be sorely missed by those of us who were privileged enough to know him personally as well as by those who knew him only through his academic writing. James Chamberlain

Kathryn Sweet adds. Grant gave generously of his time and expertise to the disparate array of Lao studies scholars who followed in his wake. While some have commented on the potentially scathing directness of his feedback, he could also be incredibly subtle in the way he offered opportunities and support. It was several years before I realized he was mentoring me and had been doing so for some time. It was not until he passed away that I became aware of how many others he had also mentored. I take comfort that Grant passed away at his home in Laos, the country he devoted his life to studying. He did a lot for Laos, even if many in Laos do not know it. Simon Creak adds. On socialism, Buddhism, monarchy, nationalism, post socialism, semiotics, memory—one cannot write on any of these topics in Laos without first reading Grant. Like all anthropologists-at-heart, Grant never stopped working. He was always good for informed reflection on all manner of topics—from the everyday to the esoteric. He was wonderfully generous in providing sources and ideas, not to mention honest and sometimes bracing appraisal. He was a great writer with that rare ability to pack complex ideas into elegant sentences. Nick Enfield adds. Grant Evans was many things, and he will be well remembered for them all. As a friend, he was a down-to-earth and caring comrade. As a mentor, he gave generously of his advice, his deep knowledge, his sprawling connections. And as a colleague, he achieved that uncanny mix of gentleman and pugilist. One could bring an idea to Grant for his consideration, and suddenly find oneself intellectually punched in the face by this impeccably silk-shirted man. Never with ill intent. Always with a view to honing, improving, getting our facts and our ideas straight. Grant was no lazy thinker and he would settle for no less in the rest of us. Like so many others, I am eternally grateful for his dedication to connecting, nurturing, and challenging an Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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extensive and diverse community of thinkers and doers in the cultures and societies of mainland Southeast Asia. Trasvin Jittidecharak adds. I got to know Grant in 1994 when Silkworm licensed his book Lao Peasants under Socialism from Yale University Press. He persuaded me to add a new preface which was not easy in the era before desktop publishing. He sent a photograph of a Lao peasant to be used on the cover. From that time on, we became friends. When Grant was collecting information for Last Century of Lao Royalty, he traveled with a portable scanner, which had just become commercially available, so he could scan photographs without separating precious mementos from their owners. The amount of material grew massive. He asked me, “Do you think it would be worth your investment?” I replied, “Grant, you have put so much work into it. I have to publish it. We will preserve Lao history for the Lao.” He was good to work with. He always constructed the book in his head first, and when it came to the actual writing, it just flowed. Grant learnt Cantonese in Hong Kong. One of his favorite courses to teach was Chinese culture, and as part of the course he would take his students to different restaurants. He enjoyed good white wine and good music. One day he called me out of the blue from Hong Kong, asking me to deliver flowers and a birthday card to a friend. I joked to my staff that his bachelor life was perhaps coming to an end. A few months later, our office had the honor of welcoming him and his beautiful “friend.” Our last encounter was at Bangkok Hospital on August 6, 2014. Grant will always be affectionately remembered. Several studies of Grant Evans’ work will appear in a special issue of the Journal of Lao Studies, edited by Boeke Rehbein, to appear shortly.

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Contributors

Chris Baker has a PhD in history from Cambridge University and taught Asian history and politics there before moving to Thailand where he has lived for over 30 years. With Pasuk Phongpaichit he has written Thailand’s Boom and Bust (1998), A History of Thailand (2005, 2009), Thaksin (2004, 2009), and translated works by Pridi Banomyong, Chatthip Nartsupha, King Rama V, Nidhi Eoseewong, and the Communist Party of Thailand, as well as the great folk epic, The Tale of Khun Chang Khun Phaen (2010). 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. Bonnie Pacala Brereton is affiliated with the Center for Research on Plurality in the Mekong Region, Khon Kaen University and does research on local cultural heritage, including traditional Buddhist art and ritual, in northern Isan and northern Thailand. She earned a doctorate in Buddhist studies and master’s degrees in Southeast Asian studies and Asian art history at the University of Michigan. Paul Bromberg is the serving editor of the Journal of the Siam Society and a contributing editor to Arts of Asia magazine. He writes and lectures regularly about Thai art and antiques. He has been living in Asia since 1985, and resident in Bangkok since 1997. He read Modern Chinese Studies at the University of Leeds, and also studied at Fudan University, Shanghai, and Xiamen University, Fujian Province, China. He was a contributing author to Royal Porcelain from Siam: Unpacking the Ring Collection, published by Hermes Publishing, Oslo, 2013. Patricia Cheesman was born in Singapore and educated in England. She has been a lecturer on Lao-Tai textiles in the Thai Art Department at Chiang Mai University since 1984. She has conducted in-depth field research on the traditional textiles of Laos and Thailand over the past 40 years and has published numerous books and articles. She has been a guest lecturer at universities, research institutes and museums in England, Australia, Laos, USA, Taiwan and Thailand, and is a consultant to the Bank of Thailand Textile Museum, Thai Ministry of Education, National Palace Museum, Taiwan, and the Lao Women’s Union. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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Contributors

Wesley Clarke is a Registered Professional Archaeologist with over forty years’ field experience in the American Midwest and, more recently, Southeast Asia. He earned a MA in Southeast Asian Studies at Ohio University, Athens, Ohio, and is currently the resident archaeologist and collections manager at The Castle Museum in Marietta, Ohio. His Southeast Asian research interests include the socio-temporal definition of the Dvāravatī culture in central Thailand and the social functions of aesthetic principles and objects in the first millennium CE. Volker Grabowsky is Professor of Thai Studies and head of the Department of Languages and Cultures of Southeast Asia at the University of Hamburg. He has done extensive research on the history and culture of Tai polities in Northern Thailand, Laos and southwestern China. He is currently doing research on Tai and Lao manuscript cultures. With Foon Ming Liew-Herres and Renoo Wichasin he has written Chronicle of Sipsòng Panna: History and Society of a Tai Lü Kingdom, Twelfth to Twentieth Century (2012). Ken Kirigaya is currently a PhD candidate at Sophia University, Tokyo. He has conducted extensive archival research in Burma and Thailand, with a special interest in the history of various Tai-speaking peoples living in the northern highlands of mainland Southeast Asia. Paul A. Lavy is an Associate Professor of South and Southeast Asian art history and Graduate Program Director at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. He specializes in the art history of mainland Southeast Asia, with a research focus on Pre-Angkorian sculpture. John Listopad is a lecturer at California State University, Sacramento, and the College of San Mateo. He has served as a curator at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and curator of Asian art for the Cantor Center for Visual Arts and lecturer in art history at Stanford University. His PhD dissertation was on the art and architecture of the reign of the Thai king, Narai, and he is currently writing a book on 18th and 19th century Sri Lankan art. John N. Miksic is Associate Professor in the Southeast Asian Studies Department, National University of Singapore, where he has been working since 1987. He spent four years in Malaysia (1968-72) as a Peace Corps Volunteer before working as a Rural Development Advisor in Bengkulu, Sumatra from 1979 to 1981. He received his PhD from Cornell University based on his fieldwork in Sumatra. Between 1981 and 1987, he taught archaeology at Gadjah Mada University, Indonesia. He has served on the board of the Center for Khmer Studies, a member of the Consortium for American Overseas Research Centers, since 2000. He is also an academic adviser Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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to SEAMEO-SPAFA (Southeast Asian Ministers of Education Organization SubCentre for Archaeology and Fine Arts), Bangkok. Paisarn Piemmettawat is the managing director of River Books Press, Bangkok, where he has worked for over 26 years and has gradually honed his photographic skills over the last 17 years. In both capacities, he has travelled extensively in Southeast Asia. Prior to his most recent book about the photographer John Thomson, he has contributed the photography to the following books: Ancient Sukhothai: Thailand’s Cultural Heritage; Ancient Luang Prabang; The Grand Palace and Old Bangkok; Ancient Vietnam: History, Art and Archaeology; Royal Hue: Heritage of the Nguyen Dynasty of Vietnam; The Roots of Thai Art; Sacred Sites of Burma, Banteay Chhmar - Garrison-Temple of the Khmer Empire; and Riverside Recipes - Thai Cooking at Chakrabongse Villas. Peera Panarut has a BA in Thai Language and Literature from the Faculty of Arts at Chulalongkorn University and an MA in Languages and Cultures of Southeast Asia from the Asia-Africa Institute at the University of Hamburg in 2015 with a study of the “Odd Content Version” of Cindamani. His research interests are Thai philology and manuscript cultures. Piriya Krairiksh earned a doctorate in the history of art from Harvard University, and was employed as curator of Asian art at the National Gallery of Australia, Canberra. On his return to Thailand, he taught history of art at the Faculty of Liberal Arts, Thammasat University, and after retirement became director of the Thai Khadi Institute. He served as president of the Siam Society and was appointed senior research scholar by the Thailand Research Fund. He has published many articles and books on Thai art in both Thai and English, most recently The Roots of Thai Art (River Books, 2012). Donald M. Stadtner was for many years an Associate Professor, University of Texas, Austin, after receiving his Ph.D. in Indian art at University of California, Berkeley. His publications include Ancient Pagan: A Buddhist Plain of Merit (2005) and Sacred Sites of Burma: Myth and Folklore in an Evolving Spiritual Realm (2011). He is co-author of Buddhist Art of Myanmar (2015). 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 the author of numerous books, scholarly articles, and online works about the ethnobiology, ethnography, art and material culture of Asia, especially Indonesia and more recently on Central Asia and the Caucasus region. Journal of the Siam Society, Vol 103, 2015

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Contributors

Vitthya Vejjajiva graduated with B.A., LL.B. degrees from Gonville and Caius College, University of Cambridge before becoming a Barrister-at-Law at Grays Inn, London and then obtaining a Master of Law degree from Harvard University. He worked for the Thai Ministry of Foreign Affairs from 1963 to 1992, becoming Thai Ambassador respectively to Canada, the European Community, Belgium and the United States. He subsequently served as Permanent Secretary at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs before his retirement. He is presently a Member of the Council, Red Cross Society of Thailand, a Member of the Board of Trustees, Chumbot-Pantip Foundation and serves on the boards of several publicly listed companies. James A. Warren is a Lecturer in the Social Science Division of Mahidol University International College. He holds a PhD in History from the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, and is the author of Gambling, the State and Society in Thailand, c.1800-1945 (2013). Wasana Wongsurawat is a historian of modern China and the Chinese Diaspora. She obtained a PhD in modern Chinese history from the University of Oxford in 2007. She was a postdoctoral research fellow at the Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore and co-edited Dynamics of the Cold War in Asia: Ideology, Identity and Culture (2010). In 2011, she joined the Faculty of Humanities of Hong Kong Polytechnic University as a research fellow and produced another collection,  Sites of Modernity: Asian Cities in the Transitory Moments of Trade, Colonialism, and Nationalism (2015). She is currently Assistant Professor in the Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University where she is working on a political history of the ethnic Chinese in Thailand from the mid-19th century to the present day. Karl E. Weber graduated from Heidelberg University, Germany, in ethnology (1965) and sociology (1966). Formerly with the South Asia Institute, Heidelberg University, he was professor at the Asian Institute of Technology, Thailand, from 1978 until 2002. He conducted research in South and Southeast Asia, notably in Nepal, Pakistan, and Thailand. Hiram Woodward, Curator Emeritus, Asian Art, the Walters Art Museum, is the author of The Sacred Sculpture of Thailand: The Alexander B. Griswold Collection, The Walters Art Gallery (with numerous others; Baltimore and Bangkok, 1997) and of The Art and Architecture of Thailand from Prehistoric Times through the Thirteenth Century (Leiden and Boston, 2003). His first contribution to the JSS was a book review in the issue of July 1970.

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Notes for Contributors The Journal of the Siam Society welcomes original articles and notes of a scholarly nature in conformity with the principles and objectives of the Siam Society, of investigating the arts and sciences of Thailand and neighbouring countries. Articles—Articles should be primarily in English, and must be accompanied by an abstract in English (of fewer than 200 words) and a brief biographical note about the author(s). The word length of the manuscript contribution must be given in a covering letter, with full postal and e-mail addresses. The author(s) must confirm that the article has not been published elsewhere in any form, nor is currently under consideration for publication elsewhere. Articles submitted to JSS are subject to review by external referees. Articles should not normally exceed 10,000 words (including footnotes and references). They may be sent by email or mailed on a CD to the Society, preferably as an MSWord® document, with an accompanying pdf of the same content. Contributors using special fonts, such as for various Asian languages, should be prepared to supply the apropriate font files. Citations in the text should, where possible, follow the author-date system (e. g., Jones 1970: 82) and full details should appear in the list of references at the end of the article. These references must be complete bibliographical entries and include the full name of the author(s), title, and publication data, including the place of publication, publisher and date of publication (including the original date of publication, if the item is a reprint). Titles of the books and periodicals should, of course, be italicized. N.B. Thai authors are to be cited and listed according to their first name (not their surname, as most non-Thai authors are). Follow these examples: Dodd, William, Clifton. 1996 [1923]. The Tai Race: Elder Brother of the Chinese. Bangkok: White Lotus Press. Ames, Michael. 1990. “Cultural Empowerment and Museums: Opening Up Anthropology through Collaboration.” In Susan Pearce (ed.), New Research in Museum Studies, vol. 1. Objects of Knowledge, pp. 158-73. London: Athlone. Liang Yongjia. 2011. “Stranger Kingship and Cosmocracy; or, Sahlins in Southwest China.” The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology, 12, 3: 236-254. Suda Pariwattitram. 1991. “Sapha kachat Thai: kamnoet lae phattanakan phutthasakkarat 2436-2485” [Thai Red Cross, origin and development 1893–1942]. MA thesis, Chulalongkorn University. Stamatopoulou, Elsa. 2004. “Why Cultural Rights Now?” Presentation in Carnegie Council on Ethical and International Affairs. At http://www.carnegiecouncil. org/resources/transcripts/5006.html (accessed 8 March 2012). Footnotes are to appear as such, not as endnotes, and should be numbered consecutively. References to articles or books written in Thai should include the title in Journal of the Siam Society, Vol. 103, 2015

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romanized Thai followed by a translation into English in parentheses. Romanization in general follows the system of the Royal Institute. If in doubt concerning form or how to reference non-standard sources, please consult the Chicago Manual of Style (most recent edition), or Hart’s Rules for Compositors and Readers at OUP (most recent edition). If in doubt over spelling, use the Concise Oxford Dictionary (most recent edition), taking the first entry where variants are allowed. Style—Each paper should follow a consistent form of dating, capitalization (to be kept to a minimum), and other aspects. Numbers below 100 are to be written out, i.e. ninety-nine, whereas centuries are to be listed in numerical form, i.e. 19th century. Date forms should be day–month–year, without contractions, e.g. 13 April 2007. Acronyms must always be spelt out when first used, e.g., National Economic and Social Development Board (NESDB). Measurements should be metric, not imperial. Non-native speakers of English are strongly advised to have their contributions checked by a native speaker before submission. Both British and American English variants are admitted, but an article must be internally consistent in the use of whichever is selected. Illustrations—Do not embed any graphics in the text, but send them separately as image files (jpg, tif, gif, etc.). Scans should be at least 400 dpi. A list of captions to the illustrations must be provided separately. Authors must obtain approval, before submission, for the reproduction in JSS of illustrations or other material not their own. Redrawing or lettering of maps or figures cannot be undertaken by the Siam Society or the editor, who may omit or return substandard work for re-presentation. Proofs and Copies—Proofs will be sent to authors if time allows. Authors are reminded that proofs are intended for checking, not rewriting: substantial changes to the text at this stage will result in the contribution being rejected. Failure to respond about corrections by the required date may lead to substitution of the editor’s corrected proofs. One copy of the Journal and a pdf of the article or review will be supplied free to authors on publication of the issue in which their contribution is included. Reviews—Unsolicited book reviews are not normally accepted. Offers to write reviews should be directed to the Editor, JSS. Reviews should normally be 1,000–3,000 words in length, written in English and supplied in the same form as for articles. Full bibliographic details about the book under review must be supplied, including ISBN, number of pages and price, if known. Disclaimer—The opinions expressed in the JSS are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of the Siam Society. The editor’s decision is final in all disputed issues.

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General Information

The Siam Society, under Royal Patronage, is one of Thailand’s oldest and most active learned organizations. The object of the Society is to investigate and to encourage the arts and sciences in Thailand and neighbouring countries. Established in 1904, the Journal of the Siam Society has become one of the leading scholarly publications in SouthEast Asia. JSS is international in outlook, publishing original articles of enduring value in English. All articles are subject to peer review. The Society also publishes the Natural History Bulletin. Since its inception, the Society has collected monographs, journals and material of scholarly interest on Thailand and its neighbours. The Society’s library, open to members, has one of the best research collections in the region. Correspondence—-Typescripts, books for review and all correspondence should be sent to: The Editor, Journal of the Siam Society 131 Sukhumwit Soi 21 (Asoke-Montri Road) Bangkok 10110, Thailand Tel. (662) 661 6470-7 Fax. (662) 258 3491 E-mail: [email protected] Subscription requests, membership enquiries and orders for publications should be addressed to Membership Services, at the address given above. Information about exchange copies of Siam Society periodicals may be obtained from the Honorary Librarian, at the same address.

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Thai Library Association under the Royal Patronage of HRH Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn is pleased to present to the Library of the Siam Society under Royal Patronage the Award for Outstanding Specialist Library, 2014 Professor Khunying Maenmat Chawalit President, Thai Library Association

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