PRINCES IN THEIR BEST CLOTHES—A PROCESSION—REACH KIANG
HAI—DILAPIDATED HOUSES—THE MEH KHOKE—NGIOS FROM MONÉ—KIANG
HAI—FORMER SIAMESE CAPITAL—EARLY HISTORY OF SIAM—VISIT THE
CHIEF—POPULATION—RUINED CITIES—ARRANGEMENT BETWEEN BRITISH SHANS
AND SIAMESE SHANS—RECENT ENCROACHMENT OF SIAMESE—NAME ENTERED AS
BENEFACTOR IN ROYAL ANNALS—VISIT FROM LA-HU—OVAL FACES—KNOWN BY
THEIR PETTICOATS—MONOSYLLABIC LANGUAGES DIFFICULT TO
TRANSLATE—LA-HU A LOLO TRIBE—COMPARISON OF VOCABULARIES.
The following morning I noticed that Chow Nan and his son had cast their
travelling attire, and were gorgeously arrayed, looking like gay
butterflies. The prince was resplendent in a new red silk _panung_, a
blue jacket with gold buttons, and, for the first time since we left
Zimmé, in shoes and white stockings. His son, similarly shod, was
adorned with a green satin jacket and a yellow silk _panung_.
Dr Cushing with the help of the Chow, who had set his heart upon
entering Kiang Hai in state, marshalled the procession. Ten armed men
led the way, and were followed by the prince’s elephant, some
attendants, Dr Cushing’s elephant, some attendants, Dr M‘Gilvary’s
elephant, some attendants, my elephant, five loaded elephants and the
baby-elephant, and a long train of servants, porters, and elephant
grooms. I could not help laughing as we went along, as we appeared so
like a travelling circus advertising itself in a provincial town.
Leaving the Chow Hona’s house at half-past six, we marched through the
plain, passing several laterite hillocks, and crossing one to avoid a
swamp—and skirting five villages, until at the village of Sun Kong we
came in sight of the crenelated walls of Kiang Hai. Thence we traversed
the graveyard of the governors of the city, and shortly afterwards that
of the abbots of the monasteries, entered and crossed the city, and
halted at the rest-house lying between it and the Meh Khoke. The
rest-house is situated 352¼ miles from Hlineboay, and 1320 feet above
the sea.
One of the tomb pillars in the cemetery of the governors was six feet in
height, and had a pyramidal cap ending in a flame-like ornament. For one
foot from the ground the pillar was six feet square. Five steps, or
offsets, occurred in the next foot in height, reducing the sides of the
square for the following foot to four feet; then three offsets, together
measuring three and a half inches in height, supported a cap five feet
square, upon which the pyramid rose in offsets of two inches. In front
of the pillar was an altar, on which flowers and vegetable-wax tapers
had been freshly laid.
The rest-house in which we put up was in a very leaky condition, owing
to the thatch not having been renewed, and to the devastation wrought in
the leaves and rafters by the bamboo-beetles. The Chow’s rest-house,
which was next to ours, was in a still worse condition, as many of the
floor planks and girders were rotten, and the floor was thus a
succession of man-traps. This was soon remedied, for as soon as the Chow
Hluang heard of our arrival he despatched men with new bamboos and
thatch to render our habitations more secure and comfortable.
Kiang Hai, whose Pali name is Pantoowadi, is picturesquely situated on
the south bank of the Meh Khoke. From the crest of the small hillocks
near the city, when the air is free from haze, the eye can range 20
miles westward up the river valley; 18 miles eastward to Loi Tone Yang;
the same distance to the south, or farther if there was anything high
enough to see; and to the north as far as the low hillocks, 15 miles
distant, which divide the Kiang Hsen plain from the valley of the Meh
Khoke.
A series of low laterite hillocks spring up from the plain to the west
of the city. This plain, and that to the north of the river, is
inundated in places for a depth of two feet in the rains for eight and
nine days at a time. Two of the hillocks serve as portions of the
ramparts on the north and west sides of the city.
The river rises in a plateau two days’ journey to the south-west of
Kiang Tung, and its sources are separated from the Kiang Tung plain,
which is 2500 feet above the sea, by Loi Kum, the Loi Peh Muang which
divides the Kiang Tung State from that of Moné, a State lying to the
west of the Salween.
The Meh Sim, which enters the Salween, rises near the sources of the Meh
Khoke; and the head of the pass, crossed by Dr Cushing in 1870, between
Kiang Tung and the head-waters of the Meh Sim, is 6500 feet above the
sea, or 4000 feet above the Kiang Tung plain.
At the sources of the Meh Khoke, according to some Ngio Shans whom I
interrogated, is the district of Muang Khon, which comprises several
villages. Two days farther from Kiang Tung, down the Meh Khoke, is Muang
Khoke, from which the river takes its name. Six days from Kiang Tung,
still down the river, lies Muang Sat, or Muang Hsat, and a day farther
Muang Khine and Wang Hung. Still lower down is Muang Tat Pow, then Muang
Nyon and Ta Taung. The latter is distant four days by water from Kiang
Hai, and five or six miles above the entrance of the Meh Fang into the
Meh Khoke. The above Muangs, or provincial States, are situated in
extensive plains, and Muang Sat has frequently formed the base of
Burmese operations against Siam. As Muang Sat has been incorporated by
us in the dominions of the chief of Muang Pan, one of our Shan States
lying to the west of the Salween, it will be seen that we have already
carried our protection over the hills which divide the waters of the
Salween from those of the Meh Kong into the valley of the Meh Khoke.
Above Ta Taung the valley of the Meh Khoke lies in the British Shan
States. From thence eastwards, half-way to Kiang Hai, the Meh Khoke
forms the Anglo-Siamese boundary; the frontier then turns in a
north-eastern direction to the Meh Kong, which it reaches a few miles
above Kiang Hsen. To the east of Loi Peh Muang[3] the people are known
to the Zimmé Shans as Tai Ngio, and pertain to the Shan States west of
the Salween. The chief of Moné had rebelled against the Burmese in 1882,
and taken refuge with the chief of Kiang Tung: this may account for so
many Ngios having recently occupied the deserted country lying to the
north of Kiang Hsen. The chief of Moné has since been reappointed to his
State by the British.
[Illustration:
_View up the Meh Khoke from the Sala at Kiang Hai._
]
The Meh Khoke at the ford above the rest-houses is 600 feet broad, but
narrows to 350 feet just below the town. At the time of our visit it was
13 feet deep from the top of the banks, and had 3 feet of water in the
channel. Loi Pong Pra Bat, the hill of Buddha’s footprint, the southern
extremity of Loi Peh Muang, ends about nine miles to the north of the
city.
Kiang Hai, which is called Chieng Rai by the Siamese, like all Shan
cities is neatly laid out, and the roads are straight, ditched, and
neatly kept. The gardens of the houses are palisaded with bamboos,
pointed at the top, and have strong teak entrance-gates, which are
closed at night. Water is led into the town from a neighbouring stream
by an aqueduct entering near the western gate. There are twelve
entrances into the city, eight of which are larger than the others. The
Siamese, or Chau Tai, claim Kiang Hai (Chieng Rai) as their early
capital.
After breakfast we went into the city to call on the Chow Hluang, who
was an old acquaintance of Drs M‘Gilvary and Cushing. He resided in a
large temporary house built of bamboo and thatched, whilst a large
teak-house was being erected for him on the site of the house of a witch
that had been burnt after the ejectment of the family in 1870.
The chief—whose head was shaved in the ancient Shan style in
South-eastern China, still practised amongst the Lau Yuen or Lao in the
Meh Kong valley and by a few Ping Shans, which leaves only a cock’s-comb
of hair—received us without his jacket, bare to the waist. He was about
sixty-five years of age, and most courteous in his manner; and, like the
other chiefs we called upon, did all he could to assist us and give me
the best information in his power.
In answer to my questions, he said that there were 300 houses in the
town and 1700 in the district, making 2000 in all. On an average the
houses contained seven inhabitants. This seems to be the usual number
throughout the Zimmé States. He gave us a great deal of information
about the country, said that the river was full of weeds near its exit
to the Meh Kong, and that the land for some distance above its mouth was
inundated during the rains.
The country abounded in ruined cities, and must have been very populous
at one time, but the wars at the end of last century and at the
beginning of this had left it very destitute of inhabitants; and those
who had not been killed had partly fled to Mokmai and Moné, Shan States,
to the west of the Salween; while the rest had been taken captive to
Zimmé, Lakon, Lapoon, and Nan.
The Burmese Shans had endeavoured to occupy Kiang Hsen in 1873, but
Zimmé remonstrated with them, and sent 500 men to prevent them from
settling there.
An arrangement had since been made, in 1881, under which the Ngio, or
Moné Shans, built their large villages about the Meh Khum, and the Zimmé
Shans were allowed to occupy Kiang Hsen, and the plain to the south of
the Upper (British) Shan villages. As the Zimmé Shans have since
encroached, and built a fort to the north of the Ngio villages,
disturbances are certain to occur unless we insist upon the Siamese
retiring within their proper boundary. The fort is simply a provocation
to the Ngio Shans.
The wife of the chief, a very homely lady, made kind inquiries after Dr
Cushing’s wife, who was with him on his former journey, and said that
she had often thought of them since they had left. On my presenting the
chief with a watch, he was so gratified that he called for the royal
annals and recorded my name in them, together with the fact of my being
the donor of it. The chief was full of the late visit of Dr Paul Neis,
and expressed his amusement and surprise that a European should wander
about the country in native garb and accustom himself to native habits.
When we got back to our house, we found a group of La-hu (called by the
Shans Mu-hseu or Moo-sur) squatting near the steps, and evidently much
interested in our surroundings and the cooking of our Madras boys. The
men, besides the ordinary Burmese Shan trousers, and jackets with loose
sleeves, dyed with indigo, wore black turbans twisted about their hair,
which was done up in a knot on the top of the back of their head. Their
faces were a distinct oval, like that of their kinsfolk the Lolos of
Ssuchuan and Yunnan. Their eyes were well opened, but had a slight
tendency to the Mongoloid droop of the inner corner of the eyelid, but
less than amongst the average Chinese.
The La-hu women were dressed in a petticoat, and a blue spencer folded
across the chest, with tight sleeves reaching to the wrist. Like the
men, they wore a black turban, one end of which hung down behind over
their chignon. Their hair was drawn back from the face, in the Burmese
fashion, but the chignon was placed higher up on the back of the head.
Their forehead was higher than it was broad, their cheek-bones high,
their nose and mouth well formed, the nose slightly expanding at the
nostrils, and their face was a decided oval. Thin silver hoops, about
three inches in diameter, hung from the lobe of each ear, and round
their necks they wore finely plaited cane necklaces.
The clan to which the hill tribes belong is generally denoted by the
pattern of the petticoat of the women. It may therefore be as well, for
the information of future travellers, to describe that of the La-hu. The
upper portion of the petticoat is worked with horizontal red stripes,
having interwoven lines of gold-thread; then comes an inch of plain red,
followed by an inch and a half of blue, one inch of red, four inches of
black, two and a half inches of blue, and a turning of a quarter of an
inch of red at the bottom. Both men and women carried tobacco-pipes made
of the root and part of the stem of a bamboo. One of the men had some
Shan writing and numbers tattooed in vermilion on his arm as a charm.
None of the others were tattooed.
[Illustration:
_A La-hu youth._
]
The La-hu had very active figures, well set up, and, like all
mountaineers, great freedom in their gait. There was not the slightest
sign of timidity or shyness about them; the women were even more at ease
than the men, did most of the talking, and were evidently the cocks of
the walk. All came up into the _sala_ as soon as they were invited, and
at once squatted round us, like children round a Christmas-tree, bent on
seeing and handling everything, and joyously receiving anything that
might be presented. It was amusing to watch the signs of curiosity and
eagerness in their eyes, as I showed them the bead necklaces and other
trifles that they would receive after giving me their vocabulary and the
information I required.
They all understood Shan as well as their own language; but even so,
these monosyllabic languages have so many tones and inflections, that
great caution and care have to be taken when translating, to prevent all
chance of error. Professor Forchhamer gives an instance of this in the
Shan word _kan_, which, although written with only two letters, _k_ and
_n_, “is capable of conveying sixteen totally distinct meanings,
according as the vowel is pronounced with the high, low, middle, or
rising tone; with teeth and lips either widely or but slightly opened;
with full or restrained expiration of breath.” Luckily, I had with me
two exceedingly capable and careful Shan scholars, Drs Cushing and
M‘Gilvary; and even then we had at times the greatest trouble to agree
upon the true sound that was uttered in a strange language; many of the
consonants might be taken for one or another, as the sound was strangely
between the two—_W_ running into _V_, _H_ into _R_, _L_ into _D_,
aspirates into non-aspirates, and single consonants into double ones.
How the men and women did laugh as they tried to put us right by
pronouncing a word dozens of times over. To see Dr Cushing leaning over,
with his hand up to imply the request for perfect silence, and then
eagerly become as if all ear for the sound of the word, was better than
a play. I was of little use, except in taking the letters down whilst
they were being haggled over by my two companions, and stating the words
and sentences I wished to be translated.
To show that the La-hu are a Lolo tribe, I will compare a few of the
words in the La-hu vocabulary with words taken by Mr Bourne from the
Lolo tribes in Yunnan. In Lolo, father, fire, foot, gold, hand, head,
iron, and moon, are _ha-pa_, _um-to_ and _mi_, _t’u chieh_, _shi_, _la_,
_ê-ku_, _shu_, _la-pa_; in La-hu they are, _nga-pa_, _am-mee_,
_keu-sheh_, _shee_, _la-sheh_, _o-ku_, _shō_, _ha-pa_. The resemblances
would be still greater if the same person had taken down the two
vocabularies—as _mee_ and _mi_, _chieh_ and _sheh_, _am_ and _um_, and
perhaps other syllables, would have been similar.
Having given us their vocabulary, the La-hu said good-bye, as they
wanted to return home; took up their presents, smilingly accepted the
rupee offered to each of them, and promised to return the next day. More
could be got out of us, and perhaps out of them, in two visits than in
one.