CHAPTER IX.
OUR RECEPTION—THE MISSION-HOUSE—A BEAUTIFUL VIEW—A REPAST—REV. J. WILSON—ANCIENT BOUNDARIES OF ZIMMÉ—CITY OF ZIMMÉ—POPULATION—THE BRIDGE—AN HERMAPHRODITE—YOUTHFUL DIANAS—FEMALE DRESS—THE MARKET—SHOPS—THE PALACE—VISIT THE KING—DISCUSSION ABOUT THE RAILWAY—PRISONERS IN CHAINS—VISIT A PRINCESS—SHAN EMBROIDERY—A GREAT TRADER—AMOUNT OF CARAVAN TRAFFIC—NUMBER OF ELEPHANTS—BOAT TRAFFIC.
In the meantime Dr M‘Gilvary, hearing that our boats had passed, had hurried off a servant to follow them and conduct us to his house. The house is built in a large palisaded garden, which is separated from the east bank of the river by a cart-road.
Entering the garden, where English roses were growing amongst the glorious flowers and flowering shrubs of the tropics, and the air was scented with the sweet blossoms of orange and pummelo trees, we were met by Dr and Mrs M‘Gilvary and their little son, who gave us a hearty welcome, and insisted upon our enjoying their hospitality during our stay in Zimmé. Nothing could be more agreeable to us. Pleasant friendly faces, lovely flowers, beautiful fruit-trees, a fine, large, commodious house, a splendid view of Loi Soo Tayp, and the best possible position for collecting information—what more could be desired? The house was constructed for the accommodation of two families of missionaries. One-half was unoccupied, as the Rev. Mr Martin and his wife were on their way from Bangkok, so no one would be cramped by our taking up our quarters there; besides which, Drs M‘Gilvary and Cushing were old friends. We therefore gladly accepted the offer.
The Mission-house is built of teak with a shingle roof, in the ordinary style of bungalows in Burmah. A staircase leads up to a broad verandah, from which the front bedrooms and sitting-rooms are entered. At the back are the bath-rooms and another verandah, with a flight of steps leading to the garden and kitchen. The orchard contains fine shady clumps of bamboos, cocoa-nut, mango, tamarind, pomegranate, custard-apple, pummelo, guava, orange, citron, papaw, and coffee trees. The passion-flower grows in great luxuriance, and affords a luscious fruit, which can either be eaten as a vegetable, or like a papaw or a melon.
After the constant strain upon my attention during the journey, I greatly enjoyed reclining in a long-armed chair in the front verandah of the house, and watching, whilst I lazily puffed at my cigar, the ever-changing expression of the great mountain at the back of the city. The lights and shades swiftly flitting across its forest-clad slopes, as the clouds coursed betwixt it and the sun; the beautiful bijou views in the early morning, as the mist opened out and closed in when dissolving under the influence of the sun; the foreground formed by suburbs on the other side of the river, embosomed in orchards, amongst which the areca-nut, palmyra, and cocoa-nut palms reared their graceful stems and beautiful plumes; the stream of ever-varying and ever-picturesque life moving along the road and river; the music formed of the murmur of distant voices; the clearer notes of those that were near, and the clash and clatter that proceeds from the busy haunts of men,—the whole was like a pleasant dream, such a one as Ole Luk Oi, in Andersen’s ‘Fairy Tales,’ showed the good little boy when he had thrown dust in his eyes and led him into Dreamland.
Having been shown our rooms, we had the luggage carried up and the necessary things unpacked, adding some of our stores to Mrs M‘Gilvary’s cuisine for the forthcoming banquet.
What a banquet that was! Never in my life, since or before, have I so enjoyed a repast. A nice white tablecloth and napkin once more under one’s nose, and European food, with American dainties, and dessert, where fresh strawberries, gathered in the Mission garden, made their appearance, and violets were placed in glasses by our side. I felt more inclined to feast my eyes and my sense of smell than to eat—everything was so tempting and so tasteful. Then the fragrance of a well-cooked dinner; and fresh vegetables, and plenty of them; and that pumpkin-pie, the first I had ever tasted,—it was a feast for the gods! A gourmet who wishes to revel in the highest pitch of epicurean enjoyment, could not do better than take a trip into the jungle, and after recouping his jaded appetite, suffering from six weeks’ privation and frugal fare, taste the relish of such a feast.
After dinner was over, we received a visit from the Rev. Jonathan Wilson, who had been with the Mission at Zimmé since 1868, the year after it had been established there by the Rev. Daniel M‘Gilvary. After giving me a hearty shake of the hand, he asked what he could do for me, and was delighted at the prospect of a railway being carried from Burmah through Siam and the Shan States. Railways were the grandest civilisers in the world, and would do wonders in ameliorating the wretched condition of the people and in spreading Christianity through the land. “Don’t be afraid of troubling me,” he said; “I shall be only too delighted to aid in your good work.” He then asked me to come and talk matters over with him at his diggings. He lived next door, all by himself. His wife was recruiting her health in America, and the two young ladies, who resided in one-half of the house and taught in the Mission schools, were away in the district. We accordingly strolled through the gardens to his house, where, after talking over matters, he promised to have my gold-leaf changed into silver; to collect all the information he could about trade and prices from the people; to inquire about the manners, customs, spirit-lore, and superstitions of the people; and give me a written memorandum about them. I was certainly most fortunate in securing the aid of missionaries who had been so long in the country as Mr Wilson and Dr M‘Gilvary, particularly when they manifested such interest in gathering information for me.
The ancient kingdom of Zimmé, or Kiang Mai, according to M‘Leod, “comprised fifty-seven cities, mentioned in the Burmese books as fifty-seven Kraings (corruption of Kiang, a fortified or walled city), many of which at present exist, or their ruins can be traced. Muang Nan and Muang Phé (Peh) were included in the number, and the capital was both Kiang Mai and Kiang Hai, a place to the northward on the Mé Khók (Meh Khoke). It extended from the Mé Khong (Cambodia river) to the Mé Khóng (the Salween river) east and west. To the northward it was bounded by the territories of Kiang Tsen (Hsen) and Kiang Tung, which extended to the Mé Khók; to the southward to the territories of Kampeng, belonging to Siam.” The kingdom, according to the Siamese history, was known as Sawakamala, and its capital as Krung (Kiang) see Satanahkanahut, probably Pali names, and not used colloquially, but merely in religious and State documents.
The city of Zimmé, which lies 430 yards to the west of the river, is divided into two parts, the one embracing the other, like a letter L, on the south and east sides. The inner city faces the cardinal points, and is walled and moated all round. The walls are of brick, 22 feet high, and crenelated at the top, where they are 3½ feet broad. The moat surrounding the walls is 30 feet wide and 7 feet deep. The outer city is more than half a mile broad, and is partly walled and partly palisaded on its exterior sides. Both cities are entered by gates leading in and out of a fortified courtyard.
The inner city contains the palace of the head king, the residences of many of the nobility and wealthy men, and numerous religious buildings. In the outer city, which is peopled chiefly by the descendants of captives, the houses are packed closer together than in the inner one, the gardens are smaller, the religious buildings are fewer, and the population is more dense. The roads in both cities are laid out at right angles to each other; no rubbish is allowed to be placed outside the gardens of the houses, which are palisaded; water is led into the town from a stream flowing from Loi Soo Tayp; the floors of the houses are all raised 6 or 8 feet from the ground; and the whole place has an air of trim neatness about it.
The suburbs of the city extend for a great distance, straggling along both banks of the river, and it is therefore difficult to fix the line where they may be said to cease. Dr Cheek, a son-in-law of Dr M‘Gilvary, had an extensive practice among the princes and people of Zimmé, and endeavoured to arrive at an approximate estimate of its population. Taking a length of 9 miles and a breadth of 2 miles, or 18 square miles, as the area covered by the city and its suburbs, he arrived at the conclusion that its population could not be less than 100,000 souls. I do not think the double city by itself can contain more than 30,000 or less than 20,000 inhabitants.
Another estimate formed by Dr Cheek concerned the population of the State of Zimmé. This was based upon an incomplete list of the houses upon which a levy was to be made for feeding the Yaks, or local deities, at the yearly sacrifice. The list included 97,000 houses at the time Dr Cheek saw it; and as seven people on an average live in each house, the population of these houses could not be less than 600,000 souls. Allowing for the other houses not then noted, and for the houses of Lawa, Karen, Muhseu, and other hill-people who are not enumerated in the subscription lists, the gross population of the Zimmé State—including Zimmé, Kiang Hai, Kiang Hsen, Muang Pow, Muang Houngson, Muang Fang, Muang Ken, and its other sub-provinces—must be about 700,000 people.
The following day, accompanied by Drs Cushing and M‘Gilvary, I made a round of visits to the king and members of the Court at Zimmé. Leaving the house, we followed the bank of the river to the timber bridge, and crossed it to the western suburbs. The centre span is removable, so as to allow the royal boats of the chiefs to pass through, and is raised about a foot above the rest of the flooring, thus being a great hindrance to the passage of carts and carriages. When driving over the bridge, our carriage had to be lifted on and off this raised portion. No nails or bolts were used in the structure; consequently the planks moved up and down like the keys of a piano as we passed over it.
Following the road through the western suburb, I entered one of the shops to purchase some Chinese umbrellas, as mine were the worse for wear, and was served by a person dressed in ordinary female costume, who seemed to be very masculine in appearance, and considerably above 4 feet 10 inches in height—a height few Zimmé Shan women attain to. On telling Dr M‘Gilvary, he informed me that the individual was an hermaphrodite; that this peculiar form of Nature’s freaks was by no means uncommon in the country; and that all such people were obliged to dress in female costume.
It is a pretty sight in the early morning to watch the women and girls from the neighbouring villages streaming over the bridge on their way to the market, passing along in single file, with their baskets dangling from each end of a shoulder-bamboo, or accurately poised on their heads. The younger women move like youthful Dianas, with a quick, firm, and elastic tread, and in symmetry of form resemble the ideal models of Grecian art.
The ordinary costume of these graceful maidens consists of flowers in their hair, which shines like a raven’s wing, and is combed back and arranged in a neat and beautiful knot; a petticoat or skirt, frequently embroidered near the bottom with silk, worsted, cotton, or gold and silver thread; and at times a pretty silk or gauze scarf cast carelessly over their bosom and one shoulder. Of late years, moreover, the missionaries have persuaded their female converts and the girls in their schools to wear a neat white jacket, and the custom is gradually spreading through the city and into the neighbouring villages.
The elder women wear a dark-blue cotton scarf, which is sometimes replaced by a white cotton spencer, similar to that worn by married ladies in Burmah, and have an extra width added to the top of the skirt, which can be raised and tucked in at the level of the armpit.
On gala occasions it is the fashion to twine gold chains round the knot of their hair, and likewise adorn it with a handsome gold pin. The Shans are famous for their gold and silver chased work; and beautifully designed gold and silver ornaments, bracelets, necklaces, and jewel-headed cylinders in their ear-laps, are occasionally worn by the wealthier classes.
After passing through the gates of the outer city we entered the market, which extends for more than half a mile to the gates of the inner city, and beyond them for some distance towards the palace. On either side of the main road little covered booths or stalls are set up; but most of the women spread a mat on the ground to sit upon, and placing their baskets by their side, expose their provisions upon wicker-work trays or freshly cut plantain-leaves.
The variety of vegetables exposed for sale is not very great, and consists chiefly of sweet-potatoes, yams, onions, mushrooms, cucumbers, pumpkins, gourds, sword-beans, onions, garlic, Indian corn, young bamboo-shoots, chillies, and seri-leaf for chewing with tobacco, areca-nut, and lime.
Some of the market-women bring ducks and fowls, others tobacco, areca-nuts, native confectionery, jaggery, rice, wax, and flowers; besides oranges, citrons, pummeloes, mangoes, tamarinds, plantains, cocoa-nuts, and melons, and any other fruit that may be in season.
In the meat-market—which is served only by men—pork, fish, and frogs, and sometimes venison, are sold, and occasionally beef can be had. Cattle may not be killed without an order from the Court, and whoever kills a beast must expose its head and feet to ensure that it has not been stolen. Before this rule was made, cattle-theft is said to have been frequent. The market generally lasts about three hours, but some of the unsuccessful linger a little longer in the hope of selling their wares.
In the shops adjoining the market, some of which are kept by Chinamen and Burmese, the occupiers are general dealers. In them are kept for sale umbrellas and fans, lacquered brass, and crockery-ware, native embroideries, English cotton piece-goods, broadcloths, velvets, velveteens, satins, silks, muslins, Chinese silks and crapes, silk jackets and trousers, silk jackets lined with fur, German aniline dyes and needles, Swedish and English matches, tinned salmon, sardines, milk, butter, jam, swords, knives, nails, gongs, hoes, large shallow iron pans, iron tripods for setting over the fire, brimstone, bluestone, arsenic, native and patent medicines, pestles and mortars for elderly toothless people to crush their betel-nut in, vegetable-wax tapers for burning in the temples, Chinese perfumery, and pictorial paper scrolls; kerosene oil and lamps, glass basins, decanters and mantelpiece vases, and a selection of earthenware jars, pots and pans; in fact, all that a native purchaser has learned to desire.
Passing from the outer into the inner town, we continued along the main road until we came to the enclosure wall of the palace grounds. The gate of the palace lies 1140 yards from the entrance of the inner town, and leads into an extensive court containing several buildings. The palace faces the gate, and is a substantial one-storeyed building, slightly Chinese in aspect, with brick walls, plastered over with an excellent cement, and a tiled roof.
Ascending a flight of steps, paved with black tiles, we entered the audience-hall, which occupied the whole front of the building. The floor of the hall is inlaid with various woods, several chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the walls were papered like an English drawing-room, and adorned with long, narrow, gilt-framed mirrors. The remainder of the furniture consisted of a lounge, an easy-chair, a dozen drawing-room chairs, upholstered in green rep, and a small tea-table. Through the doors leading into the private apartments some elegantly designed carved lattice-work partitions were seen, which served as screens to the interior of the palace.
A few minutes after we were seated, the king, dressed in a green silk loongyee or skirt, and a white cotton jacket with gold buttons, entered the hall, and after shaking hands, welcomed us in a quiet and dignified manner. Tea was then brought in, and we seated ourselves round the table. After a few preliminary remarks, Dr M‘Gilvary told him the object of my visit, and the great boon to his country that the construction of a railway to connect it with Burmah and China would be. He was rather thick-skulled, and had never been remarkable for intelligence. He could not understand how trains could move faster than ponies, or how they could move at all without being drawn by some animal. Anyhow, they could not ascend the hills, for they would slide down unless they were pulled up.
I explained to him that I had made three railways in England, and therefore he might rely upon what I said. Railways were made in various parts of the world over much more difficult hills than those lying between Zimmé and Maulmain; that even along the route I had taken it would not be very expensive to carry a railway, and that it would be still easier to carry one from Maulmain to Raheng. As to the possibility of trains being moved without being drawn by animals, he could ask any of his people who had been to Rangoon; all of them would tell him that locomotives, although on wheels, dragged the train along.
He seemed quite stupefied by the revelation. It might be so—it must be so, as I had seen it—but he could not understand how it could be. He was very old; he could not live much longer; he hoped we would be quick in setting about and constructing the line, as otherwise he would not have the pleasure of seeing it.
I then asked him to aid me in collecting information, and in choosing the best route through his territories by having me provided with the best guides, and by issuing instructions to the governors of the provinces to assist me by every means in their power. This he promised to do; and after a little general conversation, we shook hands with him, thanked him for his kindness, and departed.
We next visited Chow Oo-boon-la-wa-na, the only sister of the queen, and the daughter of the late king of Zimmé. On entering her grounds we noticed several prisoners in chains sawing timber. An iron collar was riveted round their necks, and from this a string supported their leg-irons and enabled them to work more easily.
There being no Government allowance for their food, the prisoners are dependent upon the charity of the market-women and their own relations for their victuals. The term of their imprisonment depends greatly upon the ability of their relations or friends to pay the fines which are imposed for all crimes but murder. The prisoners, when not at work, are allowed to roam about the city in their chains, and their relations are held responsible if they should escape.
Ascending the steps of the house we entered a broad verandah, where several of the princess’s women were engaged on fancy needlework, and in weaving. Some were embroidering triangular-shaped velvet ends for Shan pillows; others were embroidering silken skirts, and showing great skill and taste in the designs and workmanship. The audience-hall was raised about 15 inches above the verandah, and at its back was a large stand of arms containing old Tower muskets marked with G. R., swords, cross-bows, and lances, many of the last being imitations made out of wood and painted red. The muskets are sold in Bangkok for 7 or 8 rupees each, and fetch from 10 to 12 rupees in Zimmé. It must be about equally dangerous to fire with such a weapon as to be fired at.
After being introduced to the princess and her little daughter by Dr M‘Gilvary, and admiring the embroidery which was worked in coloured silks and gold and silver threads, I broached the subject of my visit by telling her about the proposed railway, and saying that the missionaries had told me that she was the best person to apply to about the trade of the country, and that I should be deeply obliged if she would give me what information she could upon the subject.
In reply she said that she was delighted to hear about the railway. She was one of the largest traders in the country, and would do what she could to further the project. A railway, she knew, would bring wealth to the country, and carry the produce cheaply away. Every one, nobles and people, would be glad if a railway was made to connect their country with Burmah and China.
She went on to say that she had long taken an interest in the currents of trade that passed through Zimmé; and, in her own interests, had endeavoured to arrive at the number of men and animals employed in the caravan trade. No accurate statistics had been made, but she would gladly give me the outcome of her inquiries.
Then, after a little consideration, she told me that from 700 to 1000 laden mules and ponies came yearly from Yunnan, and from 7000 to 8000 from Kiang Tung, Kiang Hung, and other places in the British Shan States; 1000 elephants are employed in carrying goods to and from Kiang Hsen, chiefly for transhipment to Luang Prabang and elsewhere; 5000 porters travel into Lower Burmah, and 4000 to the neighbouring States, and to the British Shan States lying to the north; 3000 laden oxen ply between Zimmé and Lakon, and from 500 to 600 to Lower Burmah. The movement of unladen animals for sale, she said, was as follows: Between 5000 and 6000 buffaloes were brought yearly to Zimmé from Luang Prabang, and numerous oxen from Lapoon and Lakon; and from 200 to 300 elephants were yearly taken into Burmah. The porters travelled throughout the year, and the Chinese caravans proceeded as far south as Ootaradit, a Siamese town at the head of the navigation of the Meh Nam.
According to her, elephants were very numerous in the country; there were fully 8000 both in Zimmé and Lakon, even more in Nan, and about half that number in Peh. A considerable boat traffic existed on the river, particularly in the rainy season. One thousand boats plied between Zimmé and Raheng, many of them proceeding to Bangkok.
When taking leave, the princess promised to aid me in getting elephants for continuing my journey, and said she hoped we would give her the pleasure of our company at dinner before we left. We then returned to our house, as it was about breakfast-time, and Mrs M‘Gilvary would be expecting us.