SECOND EXPEDITION.
Start of mission--Arrival at Mandalay--The Burmese pooay--Posturing
girl--Reception by the meng-gyees--Audience by the king--Departure
of mission--Progress up the river--Reception at Bhamô--British
Residency--Mr. Margary--Account of his journey--The Woon of
Bhamô--Entertains Margary--Chinese puppets--Selection of route--Sawady
route--Bullock carriage--Woon of Shuaygoo--Chinese surmises--Letters
to Chinese officials--Burmese worship-day.
In November 1874, Colonel Browne and myself arrived at Calcutta, having
left England on receipt of telegraphic instructions in the preceding
month. A short time was devoted to the purchase and preparation of the
various articles intended as presents; while the necessary equipment
of scientific instruments was completed under the personal supervision
of Colonel Gastrell, of the Surveyor-General’s office, and nothing was
spared by this well-known officer to make the fullest provision for all
scientific purposes. Fifteen picked men were selected from a Calcutta
regiment of Sikhs to form the guard, and all being thus ready, we
proceeded to Rangoon, and thence, in the _Ashley Eden_ steamer, began
our journey up the Irawady on December 12th.
At Prome we picked up a Chinese named Li-kan-shin, who proved to
be a nephew of Li-sieh-tai. He had been driven from his abode at
Hawshuenshan by the Panthays, and had lived at Prome, where he bore the
Burmese name of Moung Yoh. He now wished to return to Yunnan to visit
his mother; as he spoke Burmese fluently, in addition to writing and
speaking Chinese, he was taken into the service of the mission as an
interpreter. At first he hesitated, fearing to be punished for bringing
foreigners into Yunnan, but a sight of the imperial passport removed
all his scruples.
We arrived at Mandalay in the evening of December 23rd, 1874, and
were received on landing by officials sent from the palace with
royal elephants to carry us up to the Residency. Very different
was the reception accorded to the members of this mission from the
apparent neglect which had seemed to ignore our existence when on the
expedition of 1868. All the marks of honour that are usually conferred
on distinguished visitors were duly paid. Silver dishes loaded with
dainties were sent from the palace, and we were declared to be the
king’s guests, not only at the capital, but until we should have passed
his frontiers, and have been safely handed over to the Chinese. For our
delectation, also, the royal _corps dramatique_ appeared to perform a
_pooay_, or play, the most favourite amusement of the Burmese, even
to the very youngest, who will sit for hours, and night after night,
listening to the adventures of the royal heroes and heroines, and
enjoying the jokes which are freely interspersed. The performance takes
place under an open pavilion of bamboos erected for the occasion. There
is no stage, but a circular space covered with mats is reserved for
the performers, and the audience squat around the edge of the matted
portion. The only indication of scenery is a tree set up in the centre
to do duty for the forest, in which the scene of all Burmese dramas is
laid. By this tree a huge faggot is placed and a large vessel of oil,
and the blazing flame, fed from time to time with oil poured over it,
illuminates the performance with a lurid light, which gives a fantastic
appearance to the figures. A portion of the circle is reserved for
the orchestra, the leader taking his place inside a hollow cylinder
hung round with drums and cymbals, while the lesser musicians group
themselves around the noisy centre. No permanent theatre exists even
in the capital, nor are the performers paid by the audience. It is
the custom for those who desire on any particular occasion to “give
a pooay” to engage one of the various troupes of players, for whom a
pavilion is extemporised opposite the house, while the public form
regular rows around, and enjoy the gratuitous spectacle. Such an
enclosure was set up in the Residency compound. The first intimation
of the coming pooay was the early arrival of the orchestra some hours
before the performance was to commence, making their presence known by
a noisy rehearsal of the music of the play, which soon drew together
an expectant crowd. As in pooays generally, the actors and actresses
then by degrees dropped in, each accompanied by a friend or servant to
assist in the toilettes, which were made in public; the men and women
taking their places on opposite sides of the orchestra. The actors
arrayed themselves in robes stiff with tinsel, over which they placed
an apron of curious work and cumbrous form, and crowned their heads
with a species of tiara shaped like a pagoda. Each actress brought
with her a small box containing cosmetics, flowers for adorning her
hair, and a little mirror. Seating herself on a mat, she substituted
for her ordinary jacket a bespangled gauze coat over her richly woven
silken _tamein_, or skirt, which was tucked so tightly round her limbs
that it gave her a shuffling gait. The decorating of her hair with
sweet-smelling flowers, the powdering of her face, and the painting of
her eyebrows, constituted however the _chef-d’œuvre_ of her toilette,
requiring constant appeals to the mirror to ensure its success. She
then as a finishing stroke threw around her neck numerous strings of
imitation pearl beads, which reached down to nearly the knee, and
in each lobe of her ears inserted a solid cylinder either of gold,
jade, or amber, called a _nodoung_. She then smoked a cheroot while
unconcernedly awaiting her call. This occupation, indeed, was never
pretermitted during the performance, except while the actor’s lips
were occupied in declamation or song. The royal prima donna, whose
professional reputation is very high, and who sang sweetly, would
at the end of a passionate outburst coolly relight her cheroot at
the blazing faggot by the tree, and smoke it till her next speech or
song. Besides the dramatic performers, the royal tumblers and jugglers
appeared every afternoon, and executed surprising feats, which were
witnessed by an enthusiastic crowd. The agility of the tumblers was
remarkable. One man would, as it were, fly rather than spring over a
row of nine boys arranged as if for leap-frog. He also leapt through a
square formed by keen-edged knives held by two men, and disposed with
the edges at right angles to his progress, and giving barely space for
the passage of his body. One remarkable exhibition was that of a girl
of sixteen, who possessed most singular elasticity of body. She laid
herself on the ground, and, without apparent effort or distress, bent
her body backwards till her toes rested on her head, as shown in the
illustration taken from a photograph. She also possessed the power of
moving the muscles of one side of her face and body, while those of
the other side remained in a perfect state of repose. The feats of the
jugglers were even more puzzling than those of the Indian performers,
and seemed to be very popular with the crowd.
[Illustration: POSTURING GIRL AT MANDALAY.]
The day after our arrival, the foreign minister, or _kengwoon
meng-gyee_, paid us a visit, and invited us to a breakfast, which
was served with great profusion, and was almost English in its style.
At a separate table tea was prepared of two sorts; one the ordinary
infusion of tea leaves, the other from hard black cakes stamped with
Chinese letters, and exactly resembling tablets of Indian ink. These
are prepared by the Shans from the Chinese leaf tea, and produce a
liquor as pale as sherry, but of excellent flavour. The visit and
breakfast of the foreign minister was followed in due succession
by similar civilities on the part of the other meng-gyees; and a
day was appointed for our presentation to the king, an honour which
had been vouchsafed to the mission of 1868 neither on its outward
nor homeward journey. Accompanied by the British Resident, Captain
Strover, we proceeded on royal elephants, sent for our use, to the
palace enclosure, where we found the meng-gyees seated on carpets in a
small _hlot_, or open hall, outside the palace gate. Having doffed our
shoes, we seated ourselves on the carpets with feet carefully hidden,
according to court etiquette, and conversed with the ministers, while
attendants served tea, fruits, and cakes. At last we were informed that
the king was ready to receive us; so, having resumed our boots, we
proceeded through a small postern in the inner palace stockade into the
large open space, on the far side of which rose the lofty temple-like
structure with its nine roofs, topped by the golden htee which marks
the centre of the capital and state of Burma. Boots were again removed,
and we ascended the short flight of steps into a spacious open hall
with rows of gilded pillars, and filled with a numerous guard, all
prostrated on their knees before the august presence of the meng-gyees
who escorted us. Two more halls were successively passed through, and
then through a side passage the audience hall was reached. This was
a large apartment painted white, with a gilded railing cutting off
two-thirds of its area. In the wall opposite to the railing were a pair
of gilded folding-doors, and on the right and left a row of pillars.
From amidst the ranks of the body-guard, all dressed in spotless white,
and squatted on the ground, we entered within the railing, and imitated
in our own way the uncomfortable position prescribed by etiquette,
carefully turning our feet to the rear. Behind either side of us, were
the ministers of state duly crouching. Before the folding-doors, and a
few yards removed from us, was spread a gorgeous velvet carpet of red
and gold pattern, on which stood a golden couch richly bejewelled. A
square pillow, an opera-glass, and two golden boxes were laid ready for
the absent occupant, and by the head of the couch stood a betel box in
the form of a golden _henza_, or sacred goose, inlaid with jewels.
Presently the folding-doors were thrown open, disclosing a long vista
of golden portals, through which we saw his Majesty of Burma advancing,
accompanied by a little boy five or six years old. The Burmese
ministers, courtiers, and body-guard instantly bowed their faces to
the ground, and remained prone with hands held up in the attitude of
supplication. The Europeans bowed after their fashion, and the king, a
man of about sixty years, with a refined, intellectual face, quick eye,
and pleasing but dignified manners, reclined on the couch and saluted
us graciously. He then entered into a complimentary conversation,
looking at us through his opera-glass, though not twenty yards distant.
He expressed himself in the most friendly manner, and offered one of
his steamers to convey the party to Bhamô, which was politely declined
on the ground of all arrangements having been already made. All his
questions were duly repeated by one of the officials crouching at
our side, who rendered into courtly phraseology the somewhat laconic
replies of Colonel Browne. After the interview had lasted about fifteen
minutes, the king suddenly closed the conversation, the folding-doors
flew open, and he disappeared. The Burmese raised their heads, the
Englishmen stretched their legs, fruits and cakes were served on silver
salvers and cold water in golden cups, while the meng-gyees themselves
helped us and pressed us to eat.
Thence we were conducted to view the so-called white elephant in his
small but richly adorned dwelling, which, with the concomitants of
golden umbrellas and attendants, he does not deserve by his rarity, as
he is not whiter, except about the head, than many elephants I have
seen in India.
For the rest of the palace and the surrounding city, the short
description already given will still serve. The suburbs manifested a
decided increase in the number of buildings and population, and the
inhabitants seemed more busy and prosperous than ever, as a proof of
which we remarked a new bazaar, built two years ago, twelve hundred
feet long and five hundred broad. The beauty of the environs, as viewed
from the angle towers of the city wall, seemed as striking as when
first beheld, and was enhanced by the lake-like waters of the broad
moat which now surrounds the walls of the city. Besides this additional
defence, the king is engaged in the construction of a fort on the left
bank of the river between Ava and Amarapoora. When approaching the
capital, we had noticed the works, distant at this season more than a
mile from the channel, though in the rainy season the river must reach
almost to the walls. Immediately opposite, on the right bank, rise the
chimneys of an iron foundry erected to work the iron obtained from the
neighbouring Tsagain hills. Like other Burmese works, both are still
unfinished, and are likely never to reach completion.
The steamer _Mandalay_ arrived on January 2nd, bringing the numerous
and cumbrous boxes of presents, the Australian and Arab horses, and
the kangaroo dogs, all under the charge of the Sikh guard and Mr.
Fforde, superintendent of police, who was to bring the guard back from
the frontiers of China. A list of the fire-arms on board had been
forwarded to the royal officials, and the Burmese customs officers
had examined those brought at the frontier station of Menhla to see
that they tallied with the list. On the following day we embarked,
accompanied by Captain Strover and his medical attendant, Dr.
Cullimore, who, with a tsare-daw-gyee deputed by the king to look after
our wants, were to accompany us as far as Bhamô.
The cordial reception experienced at the capital, and the readiness
shown by all the officials to “comfort and assist” the mission, seemed
to prove from the first that the king of Burma was sincere in his
promise to secure us a safe passage through his dominions. Sinister
rumours of his real dislike to the mission were, it may be said, of
course, not wanting, some of which reached our ears in the capital
itself, and others at a later period. However, we felt more inclined
to regard actions than mere words, and there has been no reason
subsequently to doubt the king of Burma respecting the promises he
had made. A royal steamer, laden with cargo and passengers, left the
capital for Bhamô before we got our steamer and its flat under weigh.
The latter was a large barge, somewhat resembling a Thames shallop, the
hull loaded with three hundred tons of salt, and the main deck, over
which the upper deck, or rather story, was raised on iron uprights,
crowded with steerage passengers. Our party occupied the cabins in
the fore part of the flat, the forecastle of which served us as an
open-air saloon. The navigation of the Irawady in the dry season
is somewhat uncertain, and the voyage proved unusually long. We had
scarcely proceeded a few miles when it was discovered that the stores
for the guard had been unloaded at Mandalay, and it was necessary for
the steamer to cast off the flat, and return for the missing provender.
The next morning, soon after starting, some native boats, laden with
firewood, coming down the river, were swept by an eddy under the
paddle-wheels. The steamer had been stopped, but the crews, being
short-handed, were unable to pull their boats clear; they managed,
however, to save their lives, but boats and cargo were totally lost.
The next incident was the grounding of our too deeply laden flat on
a sandbank, where we were obliged to remain for four days, until the
steamer returned to Mandalay for a second flat, into which part of the
cargo was transhipped. Thus by the end of the first week, we had only
made twenty-five miles out of the two hundred and fifty to Bhamô.
From this point, no further delays were experienced, save those due
to the usual morning fogs; and our upward voyage was, in all other
respects, agreeable. We were received with every demonstration of
respect by the officials of all the towns _en route_. On approaching
the places of most importance, we were met by war-boats sent to escort
us for a mile or more to the landing, where the local militia was
arrayed as a guard of honour. Reception halls had been erected, and the
young women were assembled singing and dancing, or rather posturing,
as the performers do not stir from one spot, but sway the body and arms
in measured and not ungraceful movements. Sometimes, when unable to
stop, we saw the dance proceeding on the river bank. At Myadoung, the
“army” drawn up in our honour consisted of three hundred men, ranged
along the bank, who executed a serpentine manœuvre, as they marched to
receive us at the landing-place, apparently to make their array seem
more imposing; they wore no uniforms, and, besides dahs and spears,
carried very old and well-worn flint muskets. At this place a handsome
shed had been erected, where no less than sixty-four fair performers
were assembled, and in the evening we patronised, by request, the
performance of a regular pooay. All these entertainments had been
commissioned by royal order, which the local officials obeyed to the
best of their ability. Thus the Shuaygoo Woon came on board, and most
earnestly invited us to halt for an hour, and honour his pooay by our
presence, a request which, if we had known his real sentiments towards
English visitors, would scarcely have been complied with. Above the
second defile, we met the steamer which had preceded us coming down on
her return trip, with a large flat laden with cargo and passengers.
We did not complete our journey till January 15th, having spent
twelve days on the voyage, the last twelve miles of which, owing to
the difficulty of the channel, took ten hours to accomplish. As the
steamer neared the high river bank, the southern end of Bhamô, twelve
large war-boats, each manned by thirty men, and one of which contained
Captain Cooke, the British Resident, the Woon, and the other Burmese
officials, paddled out to meet us, with much beating of gongs, and,
passing in order, turned and followed in a long procession. The high
bank was crowded with the townspeople, Shan-Burmese and Chinese, with
an intermixture of Chinese Shans and Kakhyens. As soon as the steamer
and flats were moored, the Resident and the Woon, with his tsitkays,
came on board, and welcomed us to Bhamô. The Burmese had prepared a
house in the town for our accommodation, but the Resident pressed us to
take up our quarters in the Residency, whither we according proceeded.
This is a fine building of teak, which has been erected at a cost of
£1100, though a similar one at Rangoon would have cost at least £2000.
It occupies a commanding position on the site of an old Chinese fort
near the river bank, about a mile north of the town. This old fort,
at my first visit, was completely hidden in jungle; the moat is still
wonderfully perfect, and encloses a large area, of which the residency
compound, about two acres in extent, forms but a small portion. This is
surrounded by a fence or wooden framework, covered with mats. Outside
the gate a zayat has been erected, which at this period was occupied
by about fifty Kakhyens of the Mattin clan, whose chief had been
summoned to Bhamô in reference to the possible claims of the central
or embassy route. Living within the compound were a number of Shan
families from the Sanda valley, who were waiting for the arrival of the
_Mandalay_ to carry them down the river, on a pilgrimage to the shrines
of Rangoon. It was impossible to avoid regretting that the Residency
has been built so far from the town, and in a situation so exposed to
any sudden attack from Kakhyen or any other marauders. The jungle grows
to the very edge of the moat, affording complete cover for assailants,
while the interstices of the fence afford abundant opportunities for
intruding guns or spears. One would think that the selection of a
site within the town, and near the Woon’s house, would have seemed
to argue more confidence in the Burmese authorities, with whom the
Resident should be in constant and friendly intercourse, in order to
effectually look after the interests confided to him, without setting
up an _imperium in imperio_ over the Kakhyens of the hills. Recent
events have shown the insecurity of the present position, which, in the
case of any serious attack, could not be defended by the sepoys of the
Residency guard, who, at the time of our visit, could only muster eight
effective men.
At the Residency we were welcomed by Mrs. Cooke, who shares with
her husband the risks and banishment of life in this far-off place,
giving a striking proof of the pluck and devotion to their lords which
characterises our countrywomen. Here, too, we made the acquaintance
with our future travelling companion, Mr. Ney Elias, and received the
information that Mr. Margary had arrived safely at Manwyne, and might
be daily expected to make his appearance at Bhamô.
The day after our arrival, we decided that Colonel Browne, Mr. Fforde,
and myself, should reside in the town of Bhamô, for the greater
convenience of communication with the Burmese, and, as far as I was
concerned, with my staff of collectors. The Woon at once placed at
my disposal a small bamboo structure, built on the site of the house
tenanted by us in 1868. Opposite to it was the house, newly built, in
readiness for the present mission, in which Colonel Browne and Mr.
Fforde took up their quarters. The Woon was evidently much gratified by
this proceeding on the part of the officers of the mission, as showing
a friendly appreciation of his good offices. A temporary pavilion was
speedily erected over the street between the two houses, and on our
return from the Residency in the evening, a pooay was in full play
before an admiring audience. As soon as we had taken our seats in the
front of the verandah, trays of sweetmeats were set before us, and we
sat and viewed the performance till nearly midnight, as the jovial
laughter of the Burmese at the very broad jokes of the artists was not
conducive to sleep.
[Illustration: VIEW IN BHAMÔ.]
On the 17th, we were agreeably surprised by the arrival of Mr. Margary,
looking none the worse for his long overland journey from Hankow,
which he had left on the 4th of last September. But for a delay at
Loshan of six days, while waiting for new instructions, he would have
accomplished this tremendous journey in just four months. Starting
from Hankow, and passing the Tung-ting lake, on the Yang-tse, he had
ascended the Yuen river through Hoonan, and travelled by land through
Kweichow and Yunnan.
The only real difficulty he experienced was at a town called Chen-yuen,
in Kweichow, where the boat journey ended on October 27th. Here the
populace endeavoured to prevent the removal of his luggage from the
boat, and it was only by means of an appeal to the mandarin, who at
first was uncivil but speedily yielded to the power of the passports,
and the interference of an armed guard sent by that official, that
he was enabled to proceed. It was necessary for him to sleep at the
Yamen, and leave the town in the early morning. When the mob learned
his departure, they wreaked their vengeance on the boatmen, and
destroyed their boat. On his land journey the people were everywhere
civil, though intensely curious, and the mandarins polite. He described
the scenery in Kweichow as splendid, but the roads rough and ragged,
carried almost always at a high level along pine-clad hills overlooking
valleys far beneath. The province appeared to have been sadly
devastated--the cities reduced to mere villages, and the villages to
collections of straw huts; everywhere ruins of good, substantial stone
houses abounded to show the former prosperity of the region before the
Miaou-tse came down from the hills and butchered the whole population.
Although twenty years have elapsed since this incursion, the cities
still remain like cities of the dead--their extensive walls surrounding
acres of ruins, with a few of the wild hillmen dwelling in them.
His reception by the governor of the province at Kwei-yang-fu was very
cordial; and the latter promised to compensate the boatmen for their
loss in the destruction of their boat by the Chen-yuen mob. From this
city twenty days of steady travelling in a chair, twenty miles a day,
over fine mountains and through valleys almost deserted, brought him
to Yunnan-fu on November 27th. He met with civility everywhere; but
the acting governor-general of Yunnan, who was then _locum tenens_
of the absent viceroy, proved himself a most friendly and indeed an
unexpected ally. Not content with loading the Englishman with honours
and courtesies, he sent two mandarins to escort him the rest of the
way, and despatched an _avant-courrier_ bearing a mandate to all the
local authorities, which secured marked respect for the traveller, and
also sent a quick courier with orders to the mandarins on the frontier
to take care of the expedition in case he should not have met us before
our entrance into China. From Yunnan to Tali a dreadfully rough road or
track of deep ruts and jagged stones led over high mountains and into
deep valleys. The ascents were so steep as to require a team of eight
or ten coolies harnessed with ropes to drag the chair up the dangerous
incline, often skirting the edge of a precipice; and in the narrow and
dangerous path strings of mules and ponies laden with salt were often
met with, to the great risk of the traveller.
The state of the country is best described in his own words:--“It is
melancholy to see these fine valleys given up to rank grass, and the
ruined villages and plainly distinguishable fields lying in silent
attestation of former prosperity. Every day I come to what was a busy
city, but now only containing a few new houses inside walls which
surround a wide space of ruins. But the people are returning gradually,
and the blue smoke can be seen curling up here and there against the
background of pine-clad hills. It must take some few years to re-people
the country, rich as it is.”
The last four days’ travelling before reaching the plain of Tali passed
through a mountainous district devoid of cities. The authorities of
Tali were at first averse to his entering the city, pleading their
fear of the turbulent and dangerous populace, against whom he had
been already warned by the viceroy; but by an adroit appeal to the
laws of etiquette, which constrained him to pay his respects to the
high authorities, he got over the difficulty. The much dreaded city
populace treated him not only with courtesy but with profound respect,
calling him _Ta-jen_, or Excellency. The several officials received him
well, and the Tartar general, an enormously large man, who had been
foremost in the storming of the city, placed him in the seat of honour
by himself, asked innumerable questions about England and Burma, and
promised to invite the mission to stay a few days at Tali-fu.
Yung-chang was reached on December 27th, after passing through
“glorious scenery,” by a road leading over high mountain regions, but
with nothing so bad as “the horrid passes” previously encountered.
A daring robbery had been just committed on the highway, and a halt
was necessitated for the soldiers to scour the hills for fear of
lurking dacoits. The people were gradually returning to the villages,
and burning the jungle grass, which had overgrown the long abandoned
fields. The mandarins at Yung-chang were inclined to be obstructive;
but those at Teng-yue-chow, or Momien, which was reached in four days
from the former city, were “delightfully civil.” Here he received the
despatches informing him of the plans of the mission, and in accordance
with them he set out for Manwyne, arriving there after a journey of
five stages through the Shan country, which he described as a lovely
valley, and the people as sociable and amiable. At Manwyne he found
the Burmese guard of forty men, who had been sent forward from Tsitkaw
to escort him through the Kakhyen hills. Here also he met with the
redoubtable Li-sieh-tai, “now a Chinese general,” who was negotiating a
tariff of imposts on trade with the Kakhyen chiefs and Shan headmen. Li
received his first English visitor with the greatest honour, _kotouing_
to him before all the assembled chiefs and notables. The Burmese
officers requested a delay to recruit their men, after the march over
the hills, and Margary, who was anxious to press on, endeavoured vainly
to induce Li to give him a guard, under whose protection he could
advance, leaving his followers and baggage to follow with the Burmese.
He recorded his opinion that there were intrigues going on in this
district adverse to the advance of the mission, but notwithstanding he
relied strongly on the express commands of the all-powerful governor of
Yunnan in its favour.
His stay at Manwyne was marked by the most friendly intercourse with
the tsawbwa and his family, whose guest he was. He walked through the
town and shot over the banks of the river freely and unmolested; and,
as he writes, “I come and go without meeting the slightest rudeness
among this charming people, and they address me with the greatest
respect.”
Under the escort of the Burmese guard he crossed the Kakhyen hills,
bivouacking one night in a clearing, as we had done on the former
journey, at Lakhon. He passed through eight or nine villages of the
Kakhyens, the savage appearance of these hill people striking him
forcibly after the civilised aspect of the Shans of the valleys, and
they treated him to a specimen of their bold impudence. His servant
Lin was menaced by one of these with a large stone, which he raised to
strike him with, and another drew his dah and made a daring attempt to
rob one of the men of his bag. After remaining a night at Tsitkaw, he
and his party descended the Tapeng by boat, and reached the Residency
early in the forenoon. It can easily be imagined with what feelings
we congratulated the first Englishman who had succeeded in traversing
“the trade route of the future,” as he called it, and with what
pleasant anticipations we heard of the accounts of his arduous but
successful journey, and the reception accorded all along the line of
route, crowned by the politeness shown by the dreaded Li-sieh-tai. The
astonishment and admiration of the Burmese was even greater. In their
own minds they had never realised the existence of English officials in
China, and now there appeared a veritable Englishman speaking Chinese
fluently, and versed in the use of chopsticks and all other points
of etiquette. This Petching _meng_, or Pekin mandarin, moreover, was
attended, besides the rest of his retinue, by a most imposing literate,
whose huge round spectacles gave him an aspect of wonderful wisdom, and
commanded the greatest respect from his countrymen at Bhamô.
This worthy man, whose real name was Yu-tu-chien, and whose office was
that of writer or Chinese secretary, was a Christian from the province
of Hoopeh, one of the many sincere converts made by the Lazarist
missionaries. His intelligence and anxiety for knowledge, with his
amiable and faithful disposition, made him justly a favourite with all.
From the Woon downwards, every inhabitant who could speak Chinese was
anxious to interview and pay respects to the new-comers from Pekin,
and devoutly believed that the writer was a lesser mandarin sent in
attendance on the great man, and it must be confessed that Yu-tu
evidently increased in self-respect as he realised the estimation in
which he was held by the Chinese-speaking people, including the tsawbwa
of Mattin and his followers.
The Woon, or governor of the town or district of Bhamô, was most
zealous in carrying out the royal orders, and was personally most
friendly. He was a short, elderly Burman, with prominent eyes and
good face, whose chief occupation seemed to be incessantly muttering
prayers, as he slid through his fingers the beads of the black amber
rosary which he invariably carried. His principal wife and his children
had been left in Mandalay as hostages for his good behaviour, according
to the usual Burmese policy; but his establishment was presided over
by a second or inferior wife, a stout elderly lady, whose acquaintance
I was privileged to make. This was on the occasion of an entertainment
given by him in honour of Margary, the day but one after his arrival.
We sat with him on carpets in his verandah, while about forty of the
prettiest and best dressed women of Bhamô, ranged in lines, postured
and sang in the covered courtyard below. The various officials formed
a background, and the crowd surrounded the performers. The infusion
of Shan blood is evident in the superior good looks and physique of
these daughters of the land. All were well dressed and adorned with
silver and some with gold bracelets and other jewellery; the older and
very much uglier women stood behind the last row of performers, and
led the singing. We squatted Burmese fashion, and smoked, while tea
and Huntley and Palmer’s biscuits were served with nuts and persimmons
dried in sugar, followed by the customary betel and pan. Fortunately,
etiquette did not oblige us to continue too long in the uncomfortable
posture, which Burmese adopt by habit, and we could come and go as
we liked during the two hours that the performance lasted. In the
evening we visited the Chinese temple, in which a ceremony or function
was proceeding on behalf of a Chinese townsman who had recently
become insane. One part of the ceremonial consisted of a theatrical
performance or puppet-show, viewed through a transparency, the actors
being represented by small figures cut out of leather, with talc heads;
they were moved by bamboos, one fixed at the back and another to one
of the arms. The figures were placed close behind the transparent
window, and a Chinaman in charge of each shouted the words of the part,
while he manipulated the figure with great skill. We were permitted
to go behind the scenes, and by a narrow wooden staircase ascended to
a lobby leading into a large room, which was full of Chinese, smoking
and drinking tea. Hundreds of the leather puppets were suspended round
the room from lines, as if they had been clothes hung up to dry. This
was at once the stage, green-room, and orchestra. The musicians were
seated along the walls on benches; the instruments were a flageolet and
a small violin, formed of a segment of bamboo, with a snake skin over
the opening, and two strings stretched to the end of the bamboo handle.
One man thumped two stones on a desk by way of drum; another played
the cymbals, and others small gongs. Behind the transparent windows,
at one end, stood a row of Chinese moving the puppets and shouting the
dialogue. All were amateurs engaged in a work of charity, though how
the patient was to be benefitted did not appear.
During this exchange of civilities, the preparations for as early an
advance as was possible were not pretermitted. With regard to the
route to be traversed by the expedition, the Woon had fully expected
that the embassy or central road would be selected, and the Mattin
tsawbwa, through whose territory it passes, had come to Bhamô to make
arrangements for our transit. The Burmese preferred this route, as they
had more influence over those Kakhyens, and declared that they could
guarantee our safe passage more certainly by this route than any other.
The line to be followed would correspond with that travelled over on
our return journey in 1868. A Burmese embassy, carrying tribute to
China, had recently gone by this road, but was reported to have been
detained in the hills for more than a month, the mountaineers having
barricaded the road, in order to effectually extort black mail. This
embassy, or some of their members, had been heard of by Margary, as
he was passing near Momien. The fact that the tribute-bearing Burmese
embassies were accustomed to travel by this route did not recommend
it as advisable for the passage of our expedition, and the Political
Resident, with Mr. Elias, acting under orders, had, before our arrival,
made arrangements for us to proceed by the Sawady route. From thence
the road leads to Mansay, ten miles distant, a Shan village under
Burmese and Kakhyen protection, which is the regular rendezvous for
all Kakhyens coming down to Sawady or Kaungtoung to barter their goods
for salt and _ngapé_. From Mansay, four marches through the country of
the Lenna Kakhyens conduct to Kwotloon, in the Shan state of Muangmow,
on the right bank of the Shuaylee. Thence the proposed route goes by
way of Sehfan, a Chinese Shan state, dependent on the governor of the
walled town of Muanglong, up the valley of the Shuaylee, and crosses
the watershed to Momien. Such information as was possessed had been
obtained by Moung Mo, the Kakhyen interpreter, who had been despatched
by the Resident, in 1873, to Muangwan, and thence to Sehfan. He
described the country between this and Muangmow as a cultivated plain,
studded with villages, and the Shuaylee as a deep river a hundred yards
wide. Sehfan is a small town of three hundred houses, surrounded by
numerous large villages. Its chief had been brought up by the Chinese
governor of Muanglong, and was a firm friend of the Chinese; he had
recently married the eldest daughter of my old friend, the Hotha chief,
with whom we had spent such pleasant days in 1868.
In 1873, great disturbances were caused by the aggressions of a Shan
rebel from Namkhan, a Burmese Shan state on the left bank of the
Shuaylee; and the Maran Kakhyens, who were at feud with the next clan
of the Atsees, frequently attacked caravans and looted Sehfan villages.
Beyond Sehfan lay the populous Chinese Shan states of Muangkwan, with
two large towns of one thousand houses, and Muangkah on the Salween.
The Chinese towns of Muanglong and Muanglem were both described as
containing four thousand to five thousand houses, which is probably an
exaggeration.
Agreements had been entered into with the Paloungto Kakhyen chief,
who had undertaken to provide two hundred bullocks for carriage,
mules not being procurable, and to escort the mission safely into the
Muangmow district. The necessity of employing pack bullocks extended
the time likely to be required for the journey to Momien to thirty or
forty days; as, however, it was a principal object to explore this
partially known route, which was universally admitted to present the
fewest physical difficulties, the time so expended and the slow rate
of travelling appeared likely to afford the scientific members of the
mission more ample time for inquiry and observations. In this view of
the case, the leader did not wholly concur, and though deciding to
proceed to Muangmow, he contemplated striking off thence via Muangwan
and Nantin.
It turned out to have been overlooked in the preliminary arrangements
that Sawady is not in the Bhamô district, but under the jurisdiction of
the Woon of Shuaygoo, to whom no orders had been sent from Mandalay.
The Woon of Bhamô was rather nonplussed by our decision to adopt the
Sawady route, but sent to request his colleague of Shuaygoo to come
and advise on the subject. This, however, the official, who, as it
afterwards appeared, is utterly hostile to Englishmen, altogether
refused to do; but the Bhamô Woon decided to send his own troops under
the command of a tsitkay, a veteran officer, to escort us as far as
Mansay; but he evidently considered the Kakhyens beyond that point as
refractory, though nominally in the Burmese territory. The Kakhyen
pawmines declared their willingness to be answerable for our safety
from Mansay if the Burmese would convoy us thus far, and then reviewed
our two hundred packages, at the size of which they shook their heads.
The boxes had all been carefully calculated to hold seventy-five pounds
each, half a load for a mule, which carries fifty viss, equal to one
hundred and fifty pounds, and had been constructed for package on the
cross-trees used in mule carriage. Bullocks, however, cannot carry so
much, and the goods are loaded on them in bamboo baskets, which, lined
with the bamboo spathes, are almost watertight. It became necessary,
therefore, to rearrange the cumbrous baggage, which was a work of some
days.
Profiting by the experience of the former expedition, Colonel Browne
resolved not to be encumbered with a cash-chest. All the coined money
was exchanged for _sycee_, or lump, silver, at the rate of one hundred
rupees for seventy tickals of the finest quality, or seventy-three
tickals and a half of the more alloyed which passes among the Kakhyens,
and these ingots were distributed among the private boxes of the party.
Our inquiries about the several routes brought out the fact that the
Chinese fully believed us to be intent on making a railway, one man
remarking that the Sawady route was much the longest, but, “of course,
the best for the railway.”
It is hard to follow the workings of the Chinese mind, but it was plain
that the objects of our expedition were as far from being perfectly
understood by them as ever, and that they watched the movements of
the mission with a secret feeling that the objects contemplated were
somewhat beyond the peaceful pursuit of the interests of commerce and
scientific inquiry.
During the delay consequent on the alteration of the packages, our
friend the Woon got up _pooays_, or dances, for our amusement, and for
three hours at a time relays of women from the different quarters of
the town danced and sang.
Shan letters were sent to the tsawbwa of Muangmow, and Margary
despatched Chinese letters to the governor of Momien and to
Li-sieh-tai, who had sent Kakhyen messengers to Tsitkaw to carry them
forward. It subsequently appeared that the letter had not reached
Li, as he had left Nantin before the arrival of the messenger, and
proceeded to Muangmow to await our coming.
The 21st was a day of heavy rain, which seriously interfered with
packing arrangements; and as it was full moon, all amusement was
interdicted by the observance of the Burmese worship-day, which was
ushered in by the tolling of the Woon’s gong at seven, and at eight
o’clock we found him presiding over a congregation which assembled in
his house, the prayers being led by several priests. Our _tai_ was
quite free from the motley group of Burmese, Shan, and Kakhyen visitors
who had daily thronged it. This strict observance of what may be called
the sabbath was due to a recent revival of piety, stimulated by royal
orders on the subject.