FROM HOTHA TO BHAMÔ.
Adieu!--Latha--Namboke--The southern hills--Muangwye--Loaylone--The
Chinese frontier--Mattin--Hoetone--View of the Irawady plain--A
slippery descent--The Namthabet--The Sawady route--A solemn
sacrifice--A retrospective survey.
On the 27th of August we bade adieu to our friends at Hotha, the wife
and daughters of the chief coming out to “see us off”; while their
tears, and reiterated requests that we would soon come again, might
have been called forth by the departure of some near relatives or very
dear friends. We offered to shake hands, “English fashion,” which the
eldest daughter declined, as it was contrary to Shan etiquette, but the
young wife of the chief mustered up courage to defy public opinion.
The saluting guns were fired, and we started amidst the good wishes
of a large crowd. The tsawbwa rode with us as far as the boundary of
his domains; and all along the route his people turned out with many
demonstrations of goodwill to the departing strangers. On the borders
of Latha, our friend took leave of us with evident regret, and handed
us over to the care of the Kakhyen chief of Namboke.
The Latha district is naturally even more picturesque than that of
Hotha. The hills are nearer, and the glen, as it might be called, is
more thickly wooded. The town of Latha, which we passed near at hand,
though separated from the road by the Namsa river, appeared to be the
largest and most populous in the whole valley. We were precluded from
visiting it by the unwillingness of the old chieftain to receive the
foreigners. A present and polite messages were, however, sent by our
leader _en passant_, and a return present and complimentary message,
personally dictated by the chief, were brought back by our messengers.
The message attributed his inability to receive us to the prejudices
of some of his subjects. He promised that, whenever we should come
again, he and his people would be prepared to welcome our presence. His
subjects seemed to be no less thriving than those in the other section.
All along the route, many-roofed khyoungs, rising above the rich
greenery, marked the whereabouts of villages, and pagodas of a very
striking type covered the rounded hills and thickly wooded knolls.
We crossed the Namsa by a long wooden bridge, and soon found ourselves
involved in a perfect maze of little conical grassy hills, which
blocked up the western end of the valley. The road turned to the left
from the narrow glen of the Namsa, and gradually ascended, following
the course of the Namboke stream, and, crossing a number of small
hills, attained the summit of the first spur of the easterly barrier
of the valley. From this point to Namboke, the road wound over a
succession of spurs, till the village was reached, lying among a group
of little wooded hills formed by the junction of spurs of the secondary
Hotha range with the great southern barrier of the Tapeng valley, which
here unite. After a march of fourteen miles, performed in five hours,
we arrived at 5 P.M. in a downpour of rain, which did not make the
roofless shed provided as quarters at all inviting. The tsawbwa then
conducted us to his house, where we alighted under a salute of three
guns, and were accommodated partly in the strangers’ hall and partly in
the portico, which latter proved populous with enemies to sleep. The
urgent hospitality of the Namboke chief compelled us to gratify him by
a day’s halt; and it was only by dogged determination that our leader
succeeded in effecting a start at midday on the 29th.
From Namboke we descended into a deep hollow, and thence gradually
ascended to the ridge of the main range bordering the Tapeng gorge,
along which we travelled to Ashan, eight miles distant, where we put up
for the night in Kakhyen houses. The footpath which did duty for road
had been recently cleared of jungle by the Kakhyens, the fresh marks of
whose dahs were visible on either side, as we wound through magnificent
virgin forest. From occasional points of vantage on open hill brows,
we looked down on a sea of foliage, unbroken by any clearing or sign of
human habitation. From the summit level of the ridge, we looked to the
right across the valley of the Tapeng, and saw Ponsee lying, a little
speck, on the opposite slope, halfway between the Tapeng and the summit
of the lofty Shitee-doung, also called Shitee Meru, as if after the
Sacred Hill. The territory of Ponsee extends from this summit to that
of Kad-doung, which rose behind us, so that Ashan with its dozen houses
lies within the Ponsee borders. Below us, to the left, two narrow deep
valleys ran east and west, separated by a low ridge, the termination
of the southern boundary of Hotha, which speedily lost itself in the
bewildering maze which results from the division and commingling of
the great spurs of the main lines of upheaval of these mountains. In
every direction, as far as the eye could reach, extended a sea of
hills, some rising in great dome-shaped masses six thousand feet above
the sea, clothed to their summits with dense forest, unbroken by any
cultivation. The greater number of the lesser hills had been evidently
cleared, and their abrupt slopes seemed, as it were, fashioned into
huge flights of broad steps, the terraces for the rice and maize crops,
while by the aid of a good field-glass little Kakhyen villages could be
detected dotting the slopes.
We left Ashan in heavy rain, and commenced to descend in a southerly
direction. The path led along the crest of a spur running down to a
village. The ponies and mules could not keep their feet on the wet,
slippery paths, and kept sliding down on their hindquarters. As steep
declivities bordered the path, the descent was not without risk, and
a pedestrian could only keep his footing by catching hold of the long
grass, and so lowering himself down.
Having crossed the Namkhong, swollen by the rains into a tempestuous
stream, which taxed the uttermost strength of the ponies, the path
lay over a wet and muddy alluvial flat into another valley and across
another torrent. We then made a very steep ascent up the mountain side,
passing the village of Lasee, perched on a lofty rounded peak. From the
height we gained a full view of the ranges to the southwards, running
nearly parallel to each other, east-north-east and west-south-west,
with intervening valleys, much broken up by spurs. A descent of a few
hundred feet brought us to the village of Muangwye, on the southern
slope of a hill covered with trees and enormous granite boulders.
Our halt here was a device of the local tsawbwa, who was anxious to
have the honour of entertaining us. The other chiefs had gone on to
Loaylone with the baggage and commissariat, expecting us to proceed
to that village as our resting-place for the night. The chief did his
best to reconcile us to his hospitable _ruse_ by a hearty welcome and
liberal supplies of sheroo and samshu.
The usual and direct route from Ashan to Hoetone, the last Kakhyen
village before descending to the plain, only occupies one good day’s
march; but the anxiety of the respective chiefs to entertain us caused
them to lead us from village to village, and make three marches instead
of one; and as the rain was almost incessant, and the path up and down
the hillsides slippery in the extreme, we found Kakhyen regard almost
as embarrassing as the former hostility.
The next day we crossed the Muangkah stream, about fifteen feet across,
and flowing in a deep nullah, which is the boundary line between the
Lakhone and Cowlee Kakhyens, into whose borders we now entered. The
glen was very narrow, but the rich black soil very fertile, judging
from the appearance of the small rice fields. The only bridge was a
felled tree, less than a foot broad, with a ricketty bamboo tied on as
a handrail, along which we scrambled, almost envying the animals, which
swam across. Ascending another ridge, we passed the remains of the old
Chinese frontier fort, commanding this route, as a custom-house, as
that above the Nampoung commands the Ponsee road. A hundred feet below,
the village of Loaylone occupied a steep slope, stretching out in an
amphitheatre. This was the largest and most thriving Kakhyen village
we had yet seen, and the chief’s house presented the unusual feature
of a high bamboo fence enclosing it. The chief was bountiful in his
supplies of fowls and sheroo; and in the evening his younger brother,
the tsawbwa of Mattin, paid us a visit, and proved to be the most
polished and intelligent Kakhyen we had met, his manners and style
being fully equal to those of any Burmese or Shan gentleman. His dress
was a mixture of Shan and Chinese, but his hair was arranged in Burmese
fashion. He proved to be perfectly acquainted with Burmese and Chinese,
and held a long conversation on the advantages of re-establishing
trade, in which he professed the utmost readiness to co-operate. He was
very anxious that we should become his guests at Mattin for several
days; and, after exhausting the pleas of the ill-health of some of the
party, the rains, &c., we were obliged to urge that delays on the way
would prejudice the minds of our rulers against the embassy route. It
was necessary to remain a day at Loaylone, as, according to custom,
the mules and porters had to be paid off here, and replaced by others
belonging to the Cowlee Kakhyens. The ordinary central route to Momien
is said to be from this place to Muangwan, a view of which valley can
be gained from the Chinese fort of Loaylone, whence the road leads to
Nantin, avoiding the Hotha valley. There was, of course, some trouble
with the muleteers, who invariably put forth extortionate demands, only
to be met by firm refusal. At the very moment of our departure, two of
the Namboke pawmines laid an embargo on a mule-load of luggage as a
pawn for payment for some rice, which they had already received.
The direct road to Hoetone is only six miles by a comparatively level
route along the paddy fields, but the necessity of accepting Mattin’s
invitation lengthened our march to fifteen miles, involving the ascent
of one of the highest ranges. In a glen below Loaylone we met a caravan
of mules from Bhamô laden with cotton and salt. From this point steep
ascents over a succession of spurs, and descents into shallow valleys,
brought us to the summit of the main ridge at an elevation of five
thousand feet. Close to our left, and five or six hundred feet higher,
rose the high dome-shaped hill which we had sighted from Ashan. To the
south-east and south rose a few still higher peaks, but none apparently
exceeding an elevation of six thousand feet. The summit of this ridge
was covered with fine turf and a few trees, and strewn with enormous
granite boulders, under the shelter of which were built the houses of a
small village named Loayline.
From this point we began to descend the main mass of the Kakhyen hills,
and soon arrived at the village of Mattin, situated on the ridge of a
spur. A salute of three guns and a musical clash of gongs and cymbals
announced our arrival, and we were ushered up a broad flight of stone
steps leading to a Chinese gateway in a substantial brick and stone
wall. Within this stood the chief’s house, of Kakhyen design, but, by
its construction and rich ornaments of carving, deserving the name of
a Kakhyen palace. After being duly presented to the chief’s family,
and admired by an enthusiastic crowd of his subjects, who, be it said,
were vastly superior both in their appearance and dress to their
compatriots of the northern hills, we were conducted into a small
external pavilion, and refreshed ourselves in privacy.
From Mattin a descent of two miles brought us to Hoetone, situated on
a flattened depression of the same spur, strewn with huge gneiss and
granite boulders. In front of the tsawbwa’s house three flat blocks of
stone, about three feet high, were fixed in the ground in line, which
were described as the altar whereon buffaloes were offered to the
nats. We had observed similar stones in a grove outside the village,
which the numerous skulls strewn about showed to have been the scene
of numerous offerings. In this place there was also a circular wall,
three feet high, with one of the standing stones built into it, and
the ground covered with the decaying skulls of sacrificed buffaloes.
The next morning we were visited first by the aged tsawbwa of Hoetone,
accompanied by his wives, children, and grandchildren, all in their
best attire, and laden with the usual presents of fowls, vegetables,
cooked rice, and sheroo. The next to appear were the tsawbwas of
Kadaw and Sakhiy, dressed in ancient black satin jackets, with their
womankind attired _à la_ Kakhyen, but decorated with a profusion of
Shan silver ornaments. The sub-chief who had followed us to Momien, and
died there of small-pox, was a son of Kadaw, and although he had come
to Momien of his own accord, Sladen considered it just to promise to
the old father that, when at Bhamô, he would consult with the other
chiefs as to compensation for his son’s death. With this assurance the
father departed well pleased; but a younger brother of the deceased
thought fit to bully and demand instant payment, and enlisted a few
of the muleteers on his side. The usual Kakhyen wrangle and bluster
ensued, but being met with firm expostulation, according to custom,
ended in nothing; but our departure had been thereby delayed till
midday, when we gladly recommenced our descent to the plains.
In dry weather it is usual to travel from Hoetone to Bhamô by Momouk,
across the plain, on the left bank of the Tapeng; but the low grounds
being now under water, it was necessary to proceed to the Tapeng below
its exit from the hills, and descend it in boats to Bhamô. A short
distance below Hoetone, we came to a division in the road, and a
discussion ensued with the Mantai tsawbwa, who was acting as guide to
the advance party of the cavalcade, as to the proper path to follow.
One road, along the spur which we had descended, appeared evidently
to be the direct route, as the other turned off to the left down a
deep hollow, towards another spur to the southward. This, the tsawbwa
insisted, was as good and as short as the other, and we perforce
followed him. From the brow of the spur a noble panorama of the
extensive plain of the Irawady burst upon our view.
The great river, now swollen to its fullest width, wound like a broad
band of silver through the plain, and our followers literally jumped
and shouted with joy at the prospect, realising the speedy termination
of their six months’ wanderings. Those of our party whose dignity
forbade such demonstrations rejoiced no less in spirit; for even this
grand hill scenery becomes wearisome when one has to scramble up the
steep mountain paths and slide down the counter slope in torrents
of rain. We could not grumble at the slight detour which the Mantai
chief had imposed upon us, for the whole population of his village was
eagerly awaiting our arrival, and saluted us with five guns. In his
house, which was enclosed with a bamboo palisade, mats were spread for
us, and his wife and daughters, two almost handsome maidens, vied with
each other in demonstrations of welcome and proffers of very excellent
sheroo. Leaving them highly delighted with a few bright silver coins
and compliments, we remounted, and began a slippery descent through
bamboo jungle, in which there was a fair chance of being impaled on the
fallen stems, as the ponies slid down on their haunches, utterly unable
to change their course. Having at least reached four thousand feet
below Hoetone, we had to cross at the bottom a roaring mountain torrent
by a newly constructed bridge. A large boulder lay in midstream, and
two large bamboos were placed from it to the banks on either side, with
smaller cross pieces to keep all secure; this primitive and rickety
bridge, about eighteen inches wide, sloped down to the stone, and
then rose up at a steep incline to the other bank. It was a perilous
path for man and beast, for to lose one’s balance meant being swept
down by the resistless current into the Tapeng. The level ground on
either side of the stream was closed in by high hills, which echoed
with the roar of the latter river; but the high grass which covered
the alluvial flat hid it from us, until, having crossed a low spur, we
came upon the banks of the foaming yellow flood, rushing down to the
plains in a magnificent torrent. About two miles further, we left the
Tapeng, and turned to the south-west, and, crossing a low spur, came
upon the right bank of a moderate-sized, deep-flowing stream, with a
very strong current, called Namthabet, which flows into the Tapeng, at
its exit from the hills. This stream had to be crossed by a raft, which
two Kakhyens had been sent from Hoetone to construct, but they had only
completed half their task when we arrived. We were therefore compelled
to bivouac, and all hands set to work to construct the small bamboo
huts thatched with grass, which the Burmese call _tai_. The night was
fine, but the sandflies proved utter foes to sleep, defying mosquito
curtains; and the morning brought a tremendous thunderstorm, followed
by torrents of rain, as if the hill nats wished to give us a farewell
benefit.
As soon as the raft was completed, the jemadar and a number of
Burmans embarked, furnished with long bamboos to pole it across; but
the current swept it down stream, and it was only saved by the men
jumping into the water and pushing it to bank, where all held on by the
overhanging branches. The Kakhyen method of stretching a rope across
the stream was next resorted to, and under the experienced direction
of Captain Bowers a strong rope of the outer layer of the bamboo was
speedily improvised. This attempt also failed, for the rope broke in
two when the raft was in midstream, but the men kept firm hold, and
hauled themselves to the opposite bank. At last we succeeded, by means
of two ropes, in ferrying all the party across, drenched to the skin by
the rain and river water. On the left bank we were met by the choung-sa
of Tsitgna with an escort, sent to accompany us to Nampoung, on the
Tapeng. Before us lay a line of low hills, running nearly north and
south, dividing the valley of the Namthabet from the Burmese plain,
into which they fade gradually by long undulations. Their eastern face
is covered almost exclusively with bamboos, but the western slope is
thickly wooded with numerous species of forest trees, until the plain
is reached, when eng trees and tall elephant grass take their place. On
arriving at the Tapeng, after a march of five miles, we found two large
boats in readiness, one of them nicely carpeted, and carrying a band
of musicians beating gongs and tomtoms. All our party, including the
Kakhyen chiefs who had accompanied us, being embarked, we were towed by
two war-boats, each manned by thirty men, across the broad and quickly
flowing Tapeng, to the village of Tsitgna, where we were conducted
by the Woon’s private secretary to a small pavilion, comfortably
arranged for our reception. The Burmese officials were most attentive;
gratuitous supplies of eatables were brought in abundance, and even the
Kakhyen chiefs and their followers were supplied with all they needed.
On the 5th of September we settled the hire of the mules and porters
without the slightest disagreement, all the baggage having been safely
delivered, without the loss of a single article between Hotha and
Tsitgna. Even the load of the mule detained at Loaylone, which had been
divided into bundles for two porters, arrived safe, and, to the honour
of the Kakhyens be it said, without so much as even an opened bottle of
brandy being tampered with.
The next morning we embarked on boats constructed of two canoes,
carrying a platform and a canopy or roof of leaves overhead, and
glided down the broad deep Tapeng, which this season is one thousand
five hundred feet wide, and deep enough for an ordinary river steamer,
as far as the hills. On the way down, we looked back for a parting
glance at the Kakhyen hills. On either side of the river rose the two
lofty peaks, the Shitee-doung on the north and the Kad-doung on the
south, seeming to stand like sentinels, to guard the routes to China,
and in a very literal sense, for the old Chinese forts and frontier
custom-houses occupied strong positions on either mountain, and the
boundary line of the Flowery Kingdom is almost defined by these
heights. Near the mouth of the river we were met by the tsare-daw-gyee
with two war-boats, which towed us to Bhamô, where we landed at 2.30 in
the afternoon of September 5th, having left it on the 26th of February.
The Burmese surveyor who had been despatched from Hotha to examine the
route to Sawady had arrived at Bhamô on the 26th of August, having
accomplished his journey in ten days. He had travelled in the disguise
of a Shan, accompanied by a guide recommended by the Hotha chief, and
our own Kakhyen interpreter. Carrying no instruments except an aneroid
for measuring the heights, he had performed his task of observations
very satisfactorily. From Hotha he had crossed the intervening ridge,
seven hundred feet above the Muangtha valley, into the much larger
valley of Muangwan, lying at about the same level as that of Nantin.
This Chinese Shan state was governed by the grandmother of the youthful
tsawbwa, acting as regent during his minority. She and her headmen
agreed in promising safe conduct to all English traders adopting that
route. A constant stream of mules and pack bullocks was described as
passing from Sawady to Muangwan, whence they proceeded either to Nantin
or to Muangkun. The route was clear of all obstructions, and smooth
and even throughout. Two Kakhyen districts were passed through, named
Bhagon and Phonkan, in the latter of which the highest elevation
occurs. Both agreed to maintain the old Chinese tariff of one rupee for
mules and eight annas for bullocks, and the Phonkan chief expressed his
wish that English traders would adopt this route, and guaranteed their
safety.
Our old quarters in the town of Bhamô had been thoroughly repaired,
and were ready to receive us, while the tsawbwas, who had accompanied
us, to the number of thirty-one, all of whom ruled districts adjacent
to the central route, were housed by the Burmese in zayats outside the
stockade. The object of their attendance was to take part in a solemn
sacrifice according to their custom, and to enter into an engagement
ratified by the most binding oath, that they would afford safe conduct
and protection to all traders and travellers who might hereafter cross
their hills between Bhamô and the Shan states. The ceremony took place
on the 13th, after sundry open objections and hidden obstacles raised
by the Burmese, who, no doubt, were at first rather puzzled by the
transaction, but, after clear explanations by Major Sladen, raised
no further difficulty. A species of scaffold was erected, consisting
of strong posts sunk into the ground, with cross pieces, to which
the victim, a buffalo, was bound. An altar was reared twenty feet in
height, with a square platform of bamboos, on which the offering was
placed. Before the sacrifice, and again before the offering was made,
the nats or deities were duly invoked in a solemnly chanted prayer.
The buffalo was firmly bound by its horns to the scaffold, and then
thrown on one side, so that the whole weight of the body bore on the
partially twisted neck. A Kakhyen rushed forward, in one hand holding a
plantain leaf cup full of water, and brandishing his dah in the other.
Simultaneously the water was thrown over the victim, and the fatal blow
delivered in the neck with a force and effect as fatal as the stab of
the matador. The carcase was at once cut up, the blood being received
in a large vessel, while the entrails were laid as offerings to the
nats on the elevated altar. With the blood a quantity of samshu was
mixed, and stirred up with the points of dahs and spears, and each
chief in turn drank from the bowl, and uttered his vow of fidelity to
the common cause. Such was the rite that the three chiefs had joined in
at Ponsee when leagued for our destruction, and now thirty-one chiefs
bound themselves solemnly to maintain peace and give protection to
future travellers through their borders. This was the concluding act
which terminated our expedition, and it may be permitted to us to look
back with satisfaction to the fact, that of the whole party which set
out of Bhamô, with the exception of one sepoy and a native collector,
who succumbed to disease, all returned in safety. The natives of the
Kakhyen hills and of the Shan valleys had learned to regard their
at first suspected or dreaded visitors as friends and benefactors;
and if the advance had been slow, and in the opinion of some costly,
the return had been easily accomplished, and not without a wealth of
“golden opinions” won from the various chiefs with whom Englishmen for
the first time had been brought in successive relations.
* * * * *
It is scarcely within the scope of this volume to review the political
aspect of the work performed, but it is impossible to refrain from some
comments. The term failure has been freely applied to the outcome of
this expedition, and the conduct of the leader has been, only recently,
most harshly criticised. Considering that his instructions, as received
from the Chief Commissioner of British Burma, were to investigate
thoroughly the causes of the cessation of trade, to discover the exact
political position of the Kakhyens, the Shans, and the Panthays, and to
influence these communities in favour of the restoration of commerce,
it can hardly be alleged that the prescribed objects were not fully
attained. While it had been considered by the superior authorities
desirable to advance to Yung-chang, or, if possible, to Tali-fu, the
leader had been strictly enjoined not to risk the safety of the members
of the mission. From Bhamô he had to feel his way, contending against
intrigues on the part of the Kakhyens and misunderstanding on the part
of the Shans, fomented by the misrepresentations of the jealous Chinese
merchants at Bhamô. The country to be traversed was unknown, and in an
abnormal state of confusion. Where Burma ended, and China commenced,
was a problem, for the ancient frontier lines had been temporarily
obliterated, the authority of the mandarins had receded into the
interior of Yunnan, and that of the usurping Mahommedan rulers was
only partially felt to the westward of Momien. Not till that town was
reached could the desired information be obtained, or the true relation
of the intervening valley states to Burma or China be discerned. Not a
step forwards had been taken without securing beforehand the consent,
and, as it proved, the welcome, of the various rulers, subordinate
or supreme; and care was especially taken to disown any political
partisanship, and to proclaim to all that our object was to explore in
the interests of commerce.
When, after a short stay at Momien, it became evident that further
progress was at once dangerous and in the existing state of things
liable to embroil us with Chinese constituted authorities, a return was
resolved on, and only retarded by uncontrollable circumstances. To have
obeyed orders, and in various and trying positions to have manifested
a patient endurance in order to reach the farthest possible goal, and
return thence with the wished for information, and thus prepare the
way for future travellers, may not be accounted brilliant exploits;
but these are the arduous duties of a careful scout and a successful
pioneer. The reader can form his own opinion as to whether these were
not worthily performed by Major Sladen.
Those who shared his journeyings, though not his responsibilities, and
witnessed his cautious and resolute bearing under novel and perplexing
conditions, cannot but record their opinion that he deserves a larger
meed of praise than has been as yet accorded to his conduct of the
first English expedition to Yunnan.