PRINCE BIGIT’S EXPECTED VISIT—LEAVE LAKON—CICADAS AND THEIR MUSIC—A
BATTLE-FIELD—DUPLICATE KINGS OF SIAM—TRUANT ELEPHANTS—DR CUSHING HAS
SMALLPOX—A BEAUTIFUL DALE—A DANGEROUS PASS—WATER-PARTING BETWEEN THE
MEH WUNG AND MEH PING—NUMBER OF VILLAGES IN THE ZIMMÉ PLAIN—THE MAI
CHA-LAU TREE—PAGODA ON LOI TEE—A CART-ROAD—REACH LAPOON—THE GREAT
TEMPLE AND CELEBRATED PAGODA—LAPOON BUILT LIKE ALADDIN’S
PALACE—DESCRIPTION OF CITY—DESERTED FOR FORTY YEARS—VISIT THE
CHIEF—LEAVE LAPOON—SCENE ON THE ROAD—REACH ZIMMÉ—REPORT OF THE
R.G.S. ON MY SURVEY.
During our stay at Lakon, great preparations were being made for the
reception and comfort of one of the King of Siam’s brothers, Prince
Bigit, who was on his way to Zimmé, _viâ_ Lakon. The prince had been
sent by the king to meet Mr Gould, who had been appointed British
Vice-Consul to the Zimmé Shan (Ping) States, and to uphold the claim of
Siam to some valuable teak-forests lying to the north-west of Raheng, in
the valley of the Meh Tien, which were claimed by the chief of Zimmé as
lying within his territories. Thousands of baskets of rice had been
purchased by the officials in the neighbouring principalities, besides
fowls, ducks, &c., from miles around, to feed the prince and his
numerous retainers. Everything eatable was therefore very high-priced at
Lakon, and it was nearly impossible to procure fowls, or even
vegetables. One or two such visits would cause a famine in the land.
At daylight the next morning, April 16, we left the city, and after
crossing the Meh Wung (350 feet wide, 10 feet deep, with 1¼ foot of
water in the bed), continued for thirty minutes through the suburbs of
the town, where several temporary buildings were being erected for the
Siamese prince and his retinue. The suburbs, which line the river, and
extend some distance inland, are extensive, and I think must contain
fully double the population within the city walls. The river was alive
with people—men, women, and children—fishing in lines with drop and
fling nets.
We then proceeded in a direction a little to the north of east, and for
five miles passed through, or near, extensive rice-plains, noticing many
large villages fringing their borders. For the next three miles we
marched through a plain in which many great _thyt-si_ (black-varnish
trees) were growing, all of which had great nicks cut out of their
trunk, having their rounded bottoms charred for the sap-varnish to drip
into. The loud rattle of the numerous cicadas in this part of the
journey was nearly deafening.
These famous singers, celebrated by Homer and Virgil, are numerous in
Burmah and the Shan States both in individuals and species, and are
considered a delicacy by the Karens. Their notes are full, shrill, and
continuous, swelling up like an Æolian harp so as to fill the air.
According to Dr Mason, a celebrated missionary, botanist, and zoologist,
who resided for the greater part of his life in Burmah, “The instrument
on which this gay minstrel performs is a unique piece of mechanism—a
perfect melodeon possessed only by the male, and which he carries about
between his abdomen and hind legs. It consists of two pairs of plates
comprising a shield for the box concealed beneath. Under these plates is
a delicate iridescent covering, tensely stretched over the cavity, like
the head of a drum; and attached to its inner surface are several
musical strings, secured at their opposite extremities to another
membrane at the posterior end of the box. The music is produced by the
alternate contraction and expansion of these strings, which draw the
tense concave covering downwards, with a rapid receding, the sounds
issuing from two key-holes of the instrument, strikingly analogous to
the action of the melodeon.”
After leaving the varnish-trees, we crossed the Meh How near a village
of the same name, and proceeded for a mile through a rice-plain, two
miles in width, to the Hong Htan, the stream of the palm-trees (200 feet
wide, 7 feet deep, with 9 inches of water in its bed), and halted for
the night at a sala, or rest-house, in the village of Hang Sat, which is
situated on the farther bank of the stream. Quartz gravel formed the bed
of the stream, which rises in a great spur, some twenty miles to the
north-west. Hang Sat lies forty-three miles from Zimmé, and 889 feet
above the level of the sea.
Two great battles are said to have occurred in this neighbourhood in
1774, when the Zimmé Shans threw off the Burmese yoke. The first was
between the Burmese and the Shans; the second between a Burmese army and
a joint force of Shans and Siamese, who were led by two Siamese
generals. These subsequently became first and second Kings of Siam.[12]
From the camp we had a splendid view of the main range of hills which
divides the waters of the Meh Wung from those of the Meh Ping, its crest
cutting the sky twelve miles distant to the west, and could see the
entrance of the pass we were about to traverse lying nearly due west of
us, and ten miles farther north the low dip in the hills forming its
summit. To the north-west a great spur called Loi Koon Htan, that gives
rise to the Hong Htan, ended about five miles off.
Our _sala_ was only walled on three sides; and the rain falling heavily
in the evening, and driving in upon us, nearly wetted us to the skin
before we could rig up some plaids as a screen for our protection.
Next morning we were unable to start as early as we wished, because two
of the elephants had broken their ankle-shackles in the night, and had
strayed some distance before they were tracked and brought back. Rangoon
creeper, the Chinese honeysuckle, abounded in the neighbourhood of the
camp, and was in full flower. We continued for half a mile through the
rice-plain, and then entered the forest. Two miles farther, after
crossing the Meh Pan, we traversed some slightly rising ground, and
descended to the Meh Sun close to its debouchment into the plain.
The Meh Sun, which we were about to follow for ten miles to its source,
runs in a narrow valley bordered on either side by a teak-clad,
table-topped mountain-spur trending in the direction of the stream,
which runs from north-west to south-east.
Our first crossing of this mountain torrent was 38 miles from Zimmé, and
14 miles from Lakon, and lies at an elevation of 1049 feet above the
sea.
After skirting the stream for some miles, we ascended to a _sala_, which
had been erected for travellers on the crest of a small plateau-topped
spur, and halted for breakfast. The rest-house was 34 miles from Zimmé.
Whilst we were breakfasting, Dr M‘Gilvary noticed that small spots had
broken out on Dr Cushing’s hands. On his examining them, he said that
there could be no doubt that they were smallpox. Dr Cushing said that
they had been coming out for two days, and he was afraid that it might
be the case. On calling the Shan interpreters, they at once agreed with
Dr M‘Gilvary, and we accordingly made arrangements as far as possible to
cut off the chance of contagion from the remainder of the party. The two
interpreters and Dr Cushing’s servant, as well as the elephant-men, had
suffered from the disease: we therefore put aside cutlery, crockery,
cooking utensils, &c., for the invalid; arranged that the interpreters
and his boy should wait solely upon him; gave up the rest-house to them;
had a temporary shelter made for ourselves; and halted for the night,
instead of making an afternoon journey.
The next morning we were off at daybreak, hurrying on towards Zimmé,
where there was a doctor attached to the Presbyterian Mission. The
beautiful dale which we were ascending reminded me of the lovely
Derbyshire dells. The plateau-topped hills on either side were of no
great height, and were wooded to their summit. The cool morning air
bathed one’s face, and everything around gave one a sense of exquisite
pleasure. The fresh spring foliage spangled with dewdrops, partially
hiding the silver-grey trunks of the trees; the dark-coloured water
meandering over the white sand of the stream-bed, twisting and twirling
round great granite boulders, and falling in little cascades; and the
whole glistening in the early morning’s sun, made a perfect picture.
Even the leafless and ungainly teak-trees added beauty by contrast to
the scene.
Leaving the stream where it forked near some _euphorbia_ trees more than
40 feet high, which resembled gigantic cacti, we ascended the
intermediate spur, and passed through a gap in the crest, 20 feet deep,
which had been worn down by elephants and cattle in the course of
centuries.
Our ascent along the spur was fraught with peril, as the hill was
composed of friable earth, and great slips had occurred on either slope,
frequently leaving a very narrow track, with precipices 80 and 100 feet
deep close to its edge. Often there was only room for the elephants’
feet placed one before the other, and deep holes had been worn by their
following each other in the same foot-tracks for generations. Whilst on
this narrow path we had to give way for cattle caravans to pass us, and
at one time we were nearly precipitated down a great slip by a caravan
of forty laden cattle meeting at a bend in the track. There was room for
neither to turn back; but, fortunately, we were on a ledge in the slope
of the hill, and our great beasts managed to scramble up the side,
although it seemed nearly impossible for them to mount it.
On our way we met two Chinamen on ponies, accompanied by four porters;
and shortly afterwards 151 laden cattle on their way to Lakon. The
summit of the pass lies 28 miles from Zimmé, and 2136 feet above the
level of the sea.
Our descent to the plain of the Meh Ta lay down the narrow valley of the
Meh Sow, a stream that rises near the summit, and is bounded on either
side by hill-spurs, having their crests about two miles apart, and
sloping nearly to the stream-bed. For the first two miles the track led,
for the sake of shortness, over several cross-spurs, and then descended
to the Meh Sow, where the torrent was 40 feet wide and 2 feet deep, and
flowing down its granite bed in a series of beautiful cascades.
The air was scented with the fragrant yellow blossoms of the padouk
trees, and teak crested the spurs where the Meh Sow debouches on the
plain. Leaving the stream near its exit from the hills, we continued
through a forest of _eng_ and _thyt-ya_ (the Indian Sal tree), until we
reached the Meh Ta. This river is 200 feet broad, 9 feet deep, with 6
inches of water, and enters the Meh Hkuang a few miles above its
junction with the Meh Ping.
Having crossed the Meh Ta, we halted for the night at a couple of
_salas_ close to the bank, and to Ban Meh Ta.
Leaving the next day, we marched through a gap between the sandstone
hillocks; near which the direct road to Zimmé leaves our route. Here we
met twenty-four laden oxen. Two miles farther we commenced the ascent of
the spur that divides the affluents of the Meh Ta from those of the Meh
Hkuang. The ascent and descent were steep for some little distance from
the crest. A tunnel through the spur would only need to be a few hundred
yards long.
Two miles and a half from the crest rice-fields commenced, and from
thence to 15 miles beyond Zimmé nearly the whole plain is under
cultivation, and villages[13] are numerous. Continuing through the
plain, I halted to ascend a knoll named Loi Tee, that juts up from the
plain some distance beyond where a low spur from the hill we had last
crossed ends. Loi Tee is about 100 feet high, and is crested by a
celebrated pagoda and temple, from whose grounds a magnificent view is
obtained of the country. Dr M‘Gilvary and the remainder of the party,
with the exception of Moung Loogalay and my guide, went on with Dr
Cushing, whilst I got off my elephant to visit the shrine.
The broad brick staircase, 700 feet long, which led up to the platform
of the pagoda, was roofed in a similar manner to the one leading up to
the Shway Dagon pagoda at Rangoon; and several men were employed
repairing it in expectation of a visit from the Siamese prince. The
temple was beautifully decorated with gold-leaf, tinsel, and glass of
various colours. A wooden horse of full life-size was standing saddled
on the platform near the pagoda, reminding one of the enchanted flying
horse in the ‘Arabian Nights.’
A raised cart-road 10 feet wide leading from Loi Tee to the ford over
the Meh Hkuang, opposite the south entrance-gate of Lapoon, had recently
been repaired, and, with its continuation towards Zimmé, was the only
good made-road outside a town that I met during my journeys. After
following this road for two and a half miles, we crossed the river
(which is 250 feet broad, 10 feet deep, and had 9 inches of water in its
bed), and entered the city. Five minutes later we halted at the house of
Chow Don, the Siamese Assistant Judge, which is situated close to the
Wat Hluang or Great Temple of Lapoon, where we put up for the night. The
north gate of the city lies 12 miles from Zimmé, and the bank of the
river is 1028 feet above the sea.
After breakfast, I wandered about the city visiting the pagodas and
temples. The Great Temple, the finest seen by me in the Shan States, is
150 feet long and 65 feet broad. The posts of the centre aisle are 2¼
feet in diameter, and 60 feet high from the floor to the wall-plate.
They are coloured with vermilion, and decorated with gold-leaf. The
woodwork of the temple is beautifully carved and gilded, and richly
inlaid with glass and tinsel of various colours; and the floor is
flagged with rectangular slabs of marble. No expense seems to have been
spared in building, adorning, and preserving the temples at this city.
Many fine bronze images have been dedicated to the temples, besides the
ordinary heavily gilded brick and plaster images: one of the latter, a
reclining image of Gaudama, was 36 feet long.
At the entrance of the enclosure containing the Wat Hluang and the Pra
Tat, or pagoda containing sacred relics, are two Rachasis, the fabulous
king of beasts, one on either side, sheltered by ornamented roofs; and
at each of the four corners of the pagoda are guardian spirits,
sheltered in the same manner, and honoured by having an immense gilt
umbrella erected in front of them. A large copper gong in the grounds
measured 7½ feet in circumference, and had a magnificent tone.
The pagoda, which is said to be of stone and very ancient, is mentioned
in one of the Buddhist books, and is held in great reverence by the
people and by pilgrims from the neighbouring States. It rises in
gradually diminishing rings to a height of 80 feet, and is covered by
gilded copper plates, each 18 inches long and 12 inches wide. On the top
of its spire is a handsome _htee_, or series of umbrellas which rise in
a cone of five tiers. To each tier are suspended numerous small
sweet-toned bells, whose clappers have large light tongues of thin metal
attached to them, which are swayed by every motion in the air, the
slightest breeze causing the bells to tinkle.
The pagoda is surrounded by a double paling formed of square copper
rods, hollow inside; and at every 10 feet is a pillar of the same metal,
surmounted at the top with a ball. Close to the railings are eight
cast-iron lanterns intended to resemble temples, one of which is in the
form of a junk; and cast-iron tables have likewise been erected near the
base to receive the offerings of the devout. The pagoda is said to have
been marked out by the two holy men, Wathoo-dewah and Tuka-danda, A.D.
574, at the time when, by their prayers and superabundant merit, they
raised from out of the earth the walls, gates, and ramparts, and sunk
the fosse of Lapoon. Two years later, having collected the people from
the surrounding forests and hamlets, they raised Zammaday-we, daughter
of the King of Vieng Chang, the capital of Soroaratatyne, and widow of a
prince of Cambodia, to the throne.
It was about this time, according to the chronicle of Muang Mau, a Shan
kingdom in the Upper Irrawaddi valley, that Kun Ngu, the third son of
Kun Lung, the chief of Muang Mau, founded La-maing-tai, a city
neighbouring Zimmé; and it may be that this prince married the queen,
and gave rise to the first known Shan chieftainship of Zimmé. After
thirty-five kings of this line had reigned, the chief, perhaps of a new
line, Adutza-woon-tha, built the pagoda only 7 cubits high; while each
of his successors, during six reigns, added 7 cubits to its stature; and
a princess completed the work by topping the pagoda with a gold cap and
a handsome gold umbrella.
When visiting Lapoon in 1837, M‘Leod heard that a copper-mine existed at
Muang Kut, which had been filled up on the hill being struck by
lightning.
[Illustration:
_A Shan queen._
]
Lapoon is of irregular shape, and between 2½ and 3 miles in
circumference. It is surrounded on the three sides not facing the river
by a wet ditch from 40 to 65 feet broad, and is enclosed by a brick
wall, varying outside from 15 to 23 feet in height, and on the inside
from 13 to 18 feet. The parapet of the surrounding wall is 4½ feet high
and 2½ feet thick, and is loopholed for musketry. The city, which is
neatly laid out and beautifully wooded, lies 3½ miles inland to the east
of the Meh Ping. From A.D. 1558, when the Zimmé States became tributary
to Burmah, till 1774, when they accepted the protection of Siam, Lapoon
remained, except during short periods of rebellion, under the Burmese.
From 1779 to 1820 the city was deserted, owing to frequent raids of the
Burmese and Burmese Shans. It was re-established in the latter year by
Chow Boon Neh, the youngest of the seven brothers who ruled in Zimmé,
Lakon, and Lapoon, and whose descendants still govern these States.
In the evening I called on the chief, who holds the title of Chow
Hluang. His palace consists of four buildings—one separate, and the
others forming three sides of a hollow square. The buildings were of the
ordinary type of the residences of the nobility, and had tiled roofs,
and appeared to be substantial structures. On ascending to the verandah,
I found the chief squatting on a carpet spread on a dais, or raised
portion of the floor, giving audience to several of his chiefs and
retainers, and surrounded by his wives. Around him were his emblems of
rank, consisting of gold spittoons, betel utensils, trays,
water-goblets, &c. He was lounging with his elbow on a three-cornered
cushion, enjoying a large cigarette, and being cooled by two pretty
women, who were seated 12 feet behind, wafting the air towards him with
long-handled fans.
He was an elderly, iron-grey-haired man, courteous in his manner, and
far more intelligent-looking than the supreme chief of Zimmé; but he had
enjoyed a good dinner, and evidently did not desire to enter into a long
discussion upon trade. After ordering mats and pillows to be brought for
us, he said that doubtless the projected railway would be an excellent
thing for the country, and would bring many pilgrims to the pagoda. He
was a great advocate for improved communications, and asked me what I
thought of the new bridged cart-road which I had followed from Loi Tee.
Of course he would do what he could to help forward the railway, but he
hoped that it would soon be commenced; for if not, he was so old that it
would not enrich him. Seeing that it was hopeless to get information
from him, as he was trying not to yawn between each sentence, we shook
hands and returned home.
As soon as it was light on the morning of April 20th, I left Lapoon; Drs
M‘Gilvary and Cushing having started some time before, so as to reach
Zimmé in the cool of the day. The road to Zimmé leads for the whole
twelve miles through villages with barely a break in the houses between
them; and the fine fruit-trees, and beautiful bamboo clumps in the
gardens bordering the road, form a magnificent and shady avenue.
It is pleasant journeying amongst human beings and their habitations
after a tour in the forest. Here a temple resplendent with gold like a
herald’s coat, shone out from the trees; and long, thin, red and white
prayer-streamers, suspended from the tops of bamboo poles, waving in the
air, called the attention of the passers-by to the place of prayer.
There a gang of peasants were at work furbishing up the road, and making
everything neat for the approaching visit of the prince. A little
farther on, close to an ancient temple and pagoda, was a great avenue of
_thyt-si_ trees, with the lowest branches 50 feet from the ground, and
great notches in their trunks for collecting the varnish. Even the
bamboos were in fresh leaf. Parrots, doves, woodpeckers, black
mocking-birds with their long tail feathers, mynahs, and myriads of
butterflies, as well as crows and sparrows, enlivened the scene and gave
a zest to the journey. Here a light-coloured buffalo stretched out its
neck, and sniffing the air, would approach and cast a surly glance at
me, as much as to say, “You’re an intruder, and have no business here.”
There a group of wayfarers had spread their morning’s meal in the centre
of the road, and had to be avoided, as they made no pretence of getting
out of our way, but merely continued squatting and gazing at us. Just
beyond, an offering to the spirits is spread on a small tray, consisting
of a clay elephant, rice, and seri-leaves. The whole way was alive with
objects of interest, and several fine monasteries and temples were
noticed at some distance from the road.
It was nearly 4 P.M. when I reached Dr M‘Gilvary’s house, as I had
halted for nearly three hours on the way for breakfast, and for the
pleasure of watching village life, and enjoying myself under a beautiful
grove of shady trees.
My circular journey to Kiang Hai and back, not counting the detour to
Kiang Hsen, was 299½ miles in length. The cartographer of the Royal
Geographical Society who plotted the survey found that its commencement
and conclusion were only 1⅕ mile apart, and reported as follows: “I must
confess that during my long experience I have never met with any survey
executed with only a prismatic compass and watch which has given such
highly satisfactory results.”