CHAPTER I

THE CHAM

General characteristics of the Cham--A Mohammedan group--Its place among ancient civilizations--Social life--Dress and ornaments--The calendar--Rites accompanying the construction of a house, a cart, and a junk--Agriculture and industry--Medicines--The use of narcotics by criminals to stupefy their victims.

I have now concluded my investigation of the complex of barbarous peoples who, in spite of the proximity of civilized races, have preserved almost intact the rudimentary instincts and ferocious customs of primitive man. No account of these regions, however, would be complete which omitted all references to the Cham,[2] a curious Mohammedan people, formerly very powerful, whose conversion to that faith took place during the zenith of their power and prosperity. The traces of this one-time pre-eminence and the Cham themselves are fast disappearing.

The group belongs to the Malayo-Polynesian race, of which the parent stock seems to have inhabited the region of Annam. The Cham were formerly the rulers of the powerful Empire of Champa, which occupied, as far as we can judge from the somewhat conflicting and unsatisfactory evidence, the eastern coast-line of Indo-China proper. Marco Polo tells us of the fertility of this region in the thirteenth century. It may even be that this country is the self-same Zabai of which Ptolemy speaks.

Nominally Islam is the official religion of this people who seem to have passed through previous stages of Animism and Brahminism. The ancient faiths were too well established to be uprooted by the Moslem conquerors and the outcome is a strange conglomeration in which the ancestral superstitions frequently profit at the expense of the precepts of the Koran.

The last survivors of this once flourishing empire (in all perhaps 130,000 souls), are now confined to the province of Binh-Thuan in Annam. At the time of its downfall before the rising power of the Annamites many of the conquered preferred exile in Cambodia and Siam rather than humiliation and servitude in the land of their birth.

The opportunity of observing and noting the customs, beliefs, and institutions of the Cham was furnished by the preliminary survey which preceded the construction of the railway from Phantiet to Phanrang. During the whole of this time our party was quartered among this interesting people and had many opportunities of developing friendly, and even intimate, relations.

We cannot pretend to have been the first to do so, for previous to our arrival two eminent philologists, MM. Aymonier and Cabaton, had made a searching examination of the manuscripts in the possession of the priests and published two singularly exhaustive studies on the subject.[3]

The Cham have preserved almost unmodified their physical and moral characteristics, largely by means of their law which prohibits intermarriage with any other people. For this reason they exhibit a marked contrast to the Annamites.

The average height of a man is about five feet six inches, that of a woman five feet. The skin is somewhat coarse and varies between a dark brown and a shade of reddish brown such as a European acquires after long exposure in a tropical climate. The auburn or black hair is fine and brittle, while the growth of beard and moustache is more generous than among the Annamites. Partial, or even total, albinism is not uncommon.

The lips and facial outline offer resemblances to those of the European. This is not remarkable, for of all Asiatics the Cham and the Malays exhibit the nearest approach to the Western type.

In spite of a certain tendency to be hollow-backed the women are of fine presence, elegant, and graceful in their movements. Their carriage in walking is particularly remarkable and can be compared with that of the Egyptians. The women of both these races habitually carry heavy objects either on their shoulders or heads and can only maintain them in equilibrium thanks to the most perfect ease in their movements.

If the vigour of this race has not deteriorated during the last centuries it is certain that their fertility has diminished. For some time the birthrate has remained stationary. Retrogression is exhibited in other ways also, for although their ancient civilization must have been highly advanced, little trace of it remains in their present low level of intellect. All ambition to renew the glories of the past has long since evaporated. The ruins of many monuments tell of the ancient splendours, but the living representatives are quite content to recount the triumphs without any desire to emulate them. Is it incapacity or merely universal apathy? The indolence of the Cham is notorious. Even the building of their houses they leave to their neighbours the Annamites.

The first time I entered a Cham village I was amazed at the absence of all vegetation. Shade is one of the prime necessities of life in this country, where the fierce rays of the sun pour down pitilessly all day and make it painful, and even dangerous, for a man to be exposed to them without cover. My colleagues, who had been established in the place for some time, soon explained that as long as we remained among the Cham we might as well relinquish vain hopes of finding a house which would not be exposed to the sun.

This inconvenient defect is the outcome of a popular superstition that the shade of a tree exerts a baneful influence over the house beneath it. A somewhat similar belief prevails in Cambodia, where, however, the minister of evil is alleged to be not the shade but the roots of trees which penetrate below a house.

However, the lack of shade was by no means the greatest discomfort we were called on to face. There were many others.

A native habitation comprises as many miniature houses as there are households (and almost even members) in the family. Every girl of marriageable age has a special room. The married members have another, while a third is reserved for the boys who have attained puberty. Naturally, the larger the family the smaller are the separate rooms, and so the apartment assigned to us was usually little more than a box with space for only a small folding-bed, the solitary piece of furniture. These low, thatched huts were scattered about a kind of compound bounded on each side by a flimsy palisade of bamboos secured together by thongs of cane.

The costume of the men consists of a skirt and a very long robe. The women wear a large piece of cloth wrapped round to form a rude skirt. Gay colours are somewhat restricted, white and white striped with red and green being the most popular. For bodice they have a clinging dark-green tunic open at the throat.

Their taste in jewellery is remarkably restrained. The rich wear silver or gold buttons in their ears. Of the poorer classes some confine their personal embellishment to copper nails and others wear a plait made of coloured threads which falls over their shoulders. We sometimes noticed bracelets on the wrists of some of the girls. This ornament serves to remind its wearer of the temporary vow of chastity which she has taken to guard her against some danger or cure an illness.

Others again wear a necklace of large amber beads from which hangs the Tamrak, a kind of amulet which wards off the powers of evil. This indispensable talisman consists of a small cylinder of lead on which a priest has traced mystic characters with a sharp-pointed instrument.

Both sexes keep their hair long and, like the Annamites, twist it into a knot at the back. The men wear as head-dress either a large turban or sometimes merely a kerchief. Pockets are unknown, but two purses hung from a long girdle provide an excellent substitute.

In early times the Cham princes set up their royal residence and the seat of government in Phanrang. In the seventeenth century their office was still hereditary, but the Court of Hué reserved the right of investiture. In the nineteenth century successive invasions undermined the authority of those potentates and all appointments to administrative offices were made by the Annamite conquerors, who made their selection among the local aristocracy.

The Cham of Cambodia are all Mohammedans, but of those of Annam about two-thirds have remained Brahmins. Their countrymen of the later faith call them "Kaphirs" (infidels), and reserve to themselves the title of "Bani" (sons of the faith). Nevertheless, there is perfect toleration between the followers of the two religions. The priests honour with their presence the ritual ceremonies of the group whose beliefs they do not share and neither party attempts to make converts of the adherents of the other.

The calendar of the Cham is partly lunar and partly solar. The beginning and end of each month coincides with a new moon. As in the Hindu calendar, this lunar month has a light half which culminates in the full moon and a dark half which is terminated by the new moon. The duodenary cycle is employed for the purpose of measuring time. This system was invented by the Turks, but the Chinese have been mainly instrumental in securing its adoption throughout the Far East. Each of the twelve years of which it is composed is called by the name of some animal--Rat, Buffalo, Tiger, Hare, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Cock, Dog, Boar.

The year begins in April-May and comprises twelve lunar months of thirty and twenty-nine days alternatively. They are numbered from one up to ten, but the eleventh and twelfth have special names. Every three years a month is added, and it may well be imagined to what difficulties and disputes this proceeding gives rise in the absence of agreement between the villages.

There are seven days in the week. Their names are borrowed from the Sanscrit and, like ours, represent a planet. Each day has twelve hours, twice the length of ours, of which the first begins at cockcrow. The night consists of five watches.

These are the component parts of the system in which it is quite simple to calculate any date. For example, a document may be dated thus: "Signed, Monday the fourth day of the light half of the fifth month of the year of the Dragon."

It is probable that in early times the Cham computed time by a system similar to that of the ancient Javanese, a people with whom they maintained close political and commercial relations, as witness several alliances between members of the two reigning houses. The Javanese calendar comprised a week of five days, a month of six weeks, a year of ten months, each with its special tutelary deity.

Life among the Cham is greatly complicated by rules of etiquette, of which the most stringent regulate the relations between those of different age and rank. Age is regarded with special reverence and an old man, whatever his social condition, is always addressed as Uncle or Grandfather by his juniors in years. An inferior addresses his superior as Elder Brother.

As in Cambodia methods of greeting are various. If a man meets a friend of superior station a due and proper sign of deference is to adjust his girdle or cross the cloth which fulfils the functions of trousers. If he is carrying an umbrella he will hold it forward towards the person he thus wishes to honour. Then a conversation will take place. During the whole time he will take the greatest care to avoid swinging his arms, the most flagrant act of disrespect. To guard against even an unwitting breach of this regulation a well-bred Cham will clasp his hands together, a precaution which prevents any movement of the arms. If a woman desires to address a request to a Mandarin or a European, her preliminary salutation is a complicated manœuvre which recalls the Andjali of the Hindus and cannot be executed without preparation. She takes off the turban which keeps her hair in position, wraps it round her like a shawl, drops on her knees and finally prostrates herself three times in succession at full length on the ground. In the interval between each prostration she rubs her face with her hands.

In India, where etiquette takes a different form, no one should appear in public without an ornament of some kind in the hair; if the head is completely unadorned it signifies either mourning or absolute retirement from the world. This rule seems to be of very ancient origin and to have been kept alive largely by sculpture. It is remarkable that all the statues of divinities in the temples have an ornament of some kind in the hair.

It is not merely the number and variety of the rules of etiquette which distinguish the Cham from other groups of similar culture. They are equally remarkable for the multiplicity of the rites which accompany each act, however insignificant, of their daily life. I can only recount here some of the more important ones which present features of their own.

An accidental fire destroyed the native house which a village chief had placed at our disposal, during the survey in that neighbourhood. We offered to rebuild it on our own lines, with the latest improvements. Far from expressing any gratification at the suggestion he showed the greatest surprise and displeasure and was more than contented with the very modest sum we gave him with which to do the work himself. Little did we imagine the trials in store for us. We were provided with temporary accommodation in a barn, without shade of any sort. The ill-fitting planks let in as much sun as rain and wind, and we were all impatience to see the completion of our future dwelling. Time, however, counts for next to nothing in the Far East, and for nothing at all among the Cham. Within a few days it was patent that a long delay was inevitable and we were soon resigned to the prospect of waiting indefinitely while the rebuilding, impeded by innumerable daily ceremonies, proceeded from stage to stage.

First of all, a place which is to be hallowed by the performance of so many rites must be enclosed within a light palisade as holy ground. For this purpose dead wood is chosen, for it must never be forgotten that the shade cast by foliage forbodes evil. In this enclosing wall an opening is made to give passage to the divinities of the five cardinal points. Without their help it would be vain for man to enter upon so grave an undertaking.

The area having thus been marked out, the next step is to determine its centre. For this purpose a cord is requisitioned. The spot thus fixed serves as a point by which to find the positions for the columns which are to support the building. A hole is dug to furnish a foundation for the north-east column. Into this the owner throws a magic amulet with the most elaborate precaution. The talisman consists of a sheet of lead on which certain mystic characters are engraved. Only after this solemn consecration is the column fixed in position. The day's work is then concluded. Next day a similar performance accompanies the establishment of a second column. One day one column is more than we can stand, and after every form of persuasion and argument the easy-going architect consents to consecrate the remaining columns on the same day.

Alas! When the framework of the roof is complete religious observance requires that an amulet shall be inserted at every point of contact with the beams of the walls! Then again there is a prolonged and bitter controversy over the choice of thatch. Our Annamite coolies have been foolish enough to collect a supply of bulrushes which are considered to exert a malignant influence! The offending material is immediately burnt and a new delay begins. At length the work is completed and the house stands ready for immediate occupation. Nothing seems to prevent our entry into possession and at daybreak we move across with our baggage and establish ourselves each in his diminutive cabin. Hardly has the unpacking begun than the owner rushes in with hands upraised in horror. In our haste we have unwittingly committed almost every conceivable act of sacrilege!

A cat should have been the first to enter the new abode, and after it the Master, and he alone may declare the building open. There is no help for it. We hastily put back our belongings and tumble the boxes out into the yard. We remain as unwilling spectators of a ceremony which we are assured is positively the last. Our host prostrates himself on the ground at the exact spot which he selects for his own bed. He then rises and intones a chant proper to the occasion, which consists of the recital of all the places to be avoided when selecting a site for a new dwelling.

"I will flee far," says the Holy Canticle, "from the haunts of the White Ant. I will turn aside from the dwelling-places of demons and evil spirits. Sloping places I will shun. I will sound clayey soil. In short I will never be found where evil is to be apprehended."

And the pious architect concludes the last of the rites and leaves us to the place.

Irritated though we were by the interminable proceedings which had postponed our occupation of the promised land, it is only fair to say that at all times we displayed the greatest interest in other ritual ceremonies which involved no personal disadvantages to ourselves. Each day provided us with new matter for investigation and speculation.

Undoubtedly one of the most curious proceedings is the consecration of a cart before its entry into active service. The manufacture of these vehicles is, perhaps, the most flourishing industry of the Cham. Their reputation is almost world-wide and thoroughly deserved. The industry dates from a very early period and was brought into prominence during the fourteenth century by the demand of the Hindu princes for beautiful cars for wedding gifts to their brides. The dedication takes place with the greatest pomp and is not complete without a sacrifice. First the wheelwright sprinkles his new material with holy water, then takes it to the river bank. There he subjects it to a severe scouring, after which it is considered as purified. Next coloured tapers are fixed on the uprights and finally he draws his knife and cuts out the framework.

"Cart," he cries, "woe betide you if ever the fancy take you not to roll your best."

The Cham prefer the banks of a river or the shores of a lake as a site for their settlements. They frequently build whole villages on huge floating rafts, but the staple industry of these lake-dwelling groups is the building of light boats and racing skiffs. These are made from trees and, as long narrow trunks are indispensable, the favourite medium is the dipterocarpus, which is plentiful in these regions. The tree is felled and then hollowed to its full length, the ends being shaped to a tapering point. To obtain the necessary elasticity the parts are exposed to a wood fire before the moulding process is commenced. Every stage of the proceedings is accompanied by prayers and sacrifices such as we have seen marking the dedication of the wagon.

It is general knowledge that in Cambodia and the region of Laos canoe races figure in all public festivals of importance. These regattas attract a large number of spectators of all nations and the Cham naturally take a conspicuous part.

The boats display quite a high standard of artistic skill. On the inside they are decorated with red lacquer. On the outside they are black and gold. Some idea of the size appears in the fact that they are sometimes built to accommodate fifty paddlers.

Every king, prince, bonze and noble has, or should have, his private boat and liveried crew, for the races proper are preceded by an aquatic procession, when each boat passes before the dais on which is seated the President of the Festivities. Nothing could be more elating than the sight of the beautiful rhythmical movements of the paddlers swinging forward with mechanical precision until their foreheads almost touch their knees. These voluntary sailors furnish an example of discipline which might well be followed in high places.

Agriculture among the Cham is limited to the cultivation of a few ricefields and the growth of tobacco, cotton and pea-nuts. Cattle-raising does not include that of cows and pigs, the flesh of which is forbidden by religion. Other industries are bee-keeping, the export of the wax for religious purposes, and the manufacture of torches of resin which find a ready market among the Annamites. I have already mentioned other specialities.

Agriculture, commerce and industry show not the least sign of expansion. The Cham is not ambitious, much less inventive and exhibits no trace of envy of his progressive Annamite conquerors, whose industrious activity is a vivid contrast to the proverbial lethargy of Orientals. Unhappily the indifference of the Cham to material prosperity is a recent development. In the great days of Empire they must have been a very active and intelligent race and even to-day we find relics of their inventive skill among their Medicine Men.

These specialists jealously guard the secret, which has been handed down by tradition, of certain medicines to which Europeans have had recourse on occasion. More than once during our expedition we were glad to invite the good offices of the native herbalists when, prostrated by dysentery, shivering with fever or weakened by anæmia, we had exhausted the resources of our own pharmaceutical arsenal. The native doctors are as skilful as the Chinese in utilizing various simples and are quite familiar with the medicinal properties of certain animal products.

We have known cases in which an unnameable brew, of which the principal constituents were the shells of beetles, the scales of snakes, and the parings of stags' antlers and bullocks' hooves, effected a quicker cure than all our European drugs, for all their scientific names. The pharmacopœia of the Cham is certainly an offshoot of that of the Chinese. It comprises a list of all manner of remedies for moral as well as physical disorders.

Camphor, a substance universally appreciated, appears also among the medicines of the Cham. They use a certain oil which, when impregnated with camphor, acts as an anæsthetic by evaporating and producing a freezing sensation. It forms a kind of liniment and is kept in a small, brightly coloured glass flask, which is stoppered with a cork of wax to prevent evaporation.

Wax is also used to make capsules, about the size of a pigeon's egg, to hold drugs and other medicinal substances which must be kept from contact with the air.

Cholera, which is endemic throughout this region, is treated by taking pills made up of a mixture of sandalwood, the bark of the mangostan, and eagle-wood. Eagle-wood, of which I shall have much to say later on, is well known as an excellent tonic. Popular superstition endows it with powers so remarkable that a single piece could effect an immediate cure.

Most of the brews or broths are prepared by decoction rather than by infusion and the operation should take place over a slow fire, which makes them more potent. Their effect is extremely violent, and in Europe we should unhesitatingly classify them with the group of remedies popularly known as "horse pills."

Among the most potent I might mention the gall of animals which is often used to produce the effect of an emetic.

At one time the Cham sorcerers used human bile as well as that of animals. This human bile was useless unless taken from a living subject, and consequently murders without number were committed for the purpose of obtaining it. Its reputation as a talisman was universal. It was said that any man who rubbed himself with it became invulnerable. Of course it was inevitable that a warrior should become invincible when he was certain that his victory, thanks to his supernatural protection, was a foregone conclusion. The King himself had no doubts as to the efficacy of this talisman and before going into battle ordered his elephants to be sprayed with it. His special emissaries, who enjoyed the name of _Jalavoi_ ("Stealers of human bile"), drew their host of victims from every quarter, and even to-day the memories of their horrid activities evoke a shudder.

Happily those evil days have departed. Human bile is no longer used either for protective or medicinal purposes. It remains only as the subject of legend.

Besides this special and curious emetic the Cham produce the same effect by certain mechanical processes the originality of which merits detailed description.

When a sick man's stomach seems overladen with bile and the medicine man wishes to empty it completely, he stuffs a rag soaked in urine and other evil-smelling substances into the patient's mouth. He rams it down as far as it will go and then quickly withdraws it. Physical aversion and the irritation of the glottis produced by a foreign body immediately provoke a spasm of sickness. No doubt some milder emetic would have been equally successful.

I frequently doctored the Cham and I can bear witness that they make the best of patients. They took ipecacuanha, castor-oil, or sulphate of soda, as if they enjoyed them. When they came again they often brought me a present of a little candle in a curious candlestick made from the banana-plant. I learnt later that it was the custom to bring an offering of some kind in lieu of fee to the native doctors.

Suicide is very uncommon in these regions, where the means of life are within the reach of all, passions easily mastered, and an easy-going philosophy is practised from the cradle. The few who find life not worth living leave it with the help of opium which they mix with vinegar.

At present the native authorities throughout Indo-China have taken no steps to regulate the manufacture and sale of poisons. It is quite usual for the most virulent of these to be sold publicly in the open market, and it must be admitted that any regulations would probably be ineffective to stop the trade. Nature in Asia has always been lavish with toxic substances. Even if the sale of these were prohibited, anyone could find as many as he wished in the nearest forest. This abundance is undoubtedly responsible for the large and increasing number of murders by poison which distinguish the regions inhabited by the Cham. We ourselves, isolated in the bush, had to take the most elaborate precautions to prevent fatalities of this kind.

On our arrival in the country we were forewarned of the danger by the French resident magistrate of the province. He laid special stress on the risks run by young bachelors who attempted any intimacies with the native girls. The seducer, it appears, is marked out for destruction, even if he has only yielded to the blandishments of the woman. Further, many of the Cham poisons only work slowly and the mischief they cause in the system is frequently taken for disorders which follow anæmia and other illnesses, to which foreigners in this climate are peculiarly liable. One of my colleagues died from an attack of what we believed to be malaria. We all feel now that if an autopsy had been made we should probably have discovered that what we thought was cachexia was the effect of poison.

Besides being familiar with the nature and use of poisons the Cham are also expert in concocting stupefying drugs and narcotics of all kinds. They often poison the air of a room in which a patient is lying by blowing stupefying vapours through hollow canes inserted in the wattled walls. The effect of these fumes is to make the victim sleep more heavily and the criminals take advantage of this circumstance to rob him at their leisure.

I had a vivid personal experience of this diabolical procedure. One evening I arrived with my escort at a house which our coolies had built specially for us and where we were to stay several weeks. The furniture consisted of nothing more than a bamboo bedstead supporting a mattress of cotton wadding. My room was very narrow and the seven cases which contained my instruments and cooking utensils were all the furniture I needed in addition. I told my boy to push two of these cases under the bed in order to save space. We had been marching all day under a tropical sun and I flung myself on the mattress and fell asleep at once. I awoke, according to habit, at about four in the morning and was surprised to feel myself so cramped that I could hardly move. To add to my astonishment I could not find my matches which I always kept within reach. The case which I had placed to serve as a bedside table had likewise disappeared.

With great effort I rose from bed and stumbling at each step managed to get out of the house. My sole garment was my pyjamas, for my clothes had followed the matches. It was still dark and I soon collided with an obstacle which proved on investigation to be one of the cases. I was somewhat alarmed and called for my servants. No one answered. A feeling of overpowering drowsiness overcame me and I had just time to get back to my bed before I fell asleep again. When morning came my orderly came in to announce that six out of the seven boxes were scattered about the outskirts of our camp. Locks had been forced and all my papers, instruments, photographic plates and prints, and wallets ruthlessly thrown out after obvious examination. It was plain that the burglars had been hunting for bank-notes. Fortunately I had no money in the cash-box. I had left the few thousand piastres which constituted our reserve with a colleague, so the total haul did not amount to more than two silver bangles and a few gewgaws, which together were not worth more than ten piastres.

As for the seventh case, it contained the whole of our supplies, and its disappearance left us with nothing but the impressions of our journey to breakfast on.

That evening, while clearing the thickets quite six kilometres from our camp, our coolies came upon the missing case. It was almost intact. Only one box had been opened and it bore upon its label a sketch of the sucking-pig it contained. As swine's flesh is abhorred by the Cham I can only conclude that we owed the recovery of our portable larder to that happy chance.

Two years later a second attempt of the same kind and not less audacious was perpetrated upon me. I was at Hanoi, residing in a house situated in a narrow avenue and next to the barracks. It was at the beginning of the rainy season and a violent storm was raging. I was sleeping on the first floor, and one of my Tonkinese orderlies, a hardy young bachelor, stationed himself at the bottom of the stairs to guard me. I had allowed another to bring his family into the house and the family, including its real members, friends and acquaintances, turned out to comprise eleven persons. In return for this concession they arranged to mount guard in turn. It will be acknowledged that I was thus not alone in the desert!

It must have been about midnight and I was dozing lightly (being prevented from sleeping by feverishness), when I suddenly noticed that my reading-lamp outside the mosquito-net was lit. It occurred to me that I could not have been so foolish as to leave it lit and I distinctly remembered putting out the light when I got into bed. I sat up to rouse my senses and heard a slight noise in the next room. I was out of bed in a moment just in time to catch a parcel of clothing which was evidently thrown at me to trip me up. By the light from the reading-lamp I distinctly saw a man perfectly naked, his body shining as if he had just had a bath in oil. I remembered in a flash that the Annamite robber always take this precaution to make capture more difficult. Before I could snatch my revolver the burglar had displayed his ape-like agility by leaping through the window and vanishing in the darkness.

I called up my men, but they only told me they had heard nothing. I confess with shame I lost my temper. Suspecting those whom I had so imprudently harboured of complicity in the plot I hunted from the house all except my usual staff. I enjoyed such consolation as was afforded by the sight of the silhouettes of the defaulting watchmen cowering in the pelting rain. Any remorse I experienced quickly vanished when I made inquiries later!