CHAPTER XXIII.
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.
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.”