A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

This princess was no ordinary person, and her life was a romance. Highly intelligent, and a capital woman of business, a great trader, and the owner of large tracts of land, extensive teak-forests, and numerous elephants, serfs, and slaves, love was yet to her “the summer’s sun, nature gay adorning.” She was very amorously inclined, and during many years had given the queen great anxiety and trouble in controlling her headstrong fancies. Her first husband was the eldest son of the eldest son of a former King of Zimmé, and would have been on the throne had the rule of succession been the same as in Europe. Their only child, a daughter, is married to Chow Sing Kam, the eldest son of Chow Racha Boot, and therefore the grandson of the present king.

Since her first widowhood the princess had made several mésalliances with people not of the royal family, much to the annoyance of the queen, who not only refused to acknowledge the marriages, but removed the objects of her affection beyond her reach. At length Chow Oo-boon sought to foil her sister by selecting a wealthy Burmese timber-trader, over whom she thought the queen dare not exercise authority, as he was a British subject. Here she was mistaken. The queen had him apprehended and escorted to the frontier, where he was told that it would be well for him to keep away from Zimmé for the future. Not to be balked, as soon as this Burmese was over the border, she selected another, and began philandering with him.

The queen was now quite out of patience, so one dark night, when the Burman was on his way to the princess’s residence, he was waylaid and clubbed to death. Greatly enraged at this assassination, Chow Oo-boon is said to have done her utmost to have the matter brought to trial by the British authorities, who, however, considered it politic to pass it over. Years had passed since then, the sisters were reconciled, and Chow Oo-boon gave no more cause for anxiety, but expended her love and care upon the education of her children.

After chatting for a little while, the princess invited us to dinner on the following Saturday, March 1st, and said that, as we should be detained waiting for elephants for two, or perhaps three days, she had arranged for two of hers to be at our house the next morning to take us to the pagoda on Loi Soo Tayp; it would be a pleasant excursion for us, and I could get a fine view of the country from the enclosure.

Whilst we were talking, two of her ladies-in-waiting were crouched at her feet ready to hand her cigarettes or her betel-box, whilst others were seated on the staircase near the edge of the verandah, and a few were following the children, who with young M‘Gilvary were racing about the house and enjoying themselves. Before the princess left, I brought out some Maltese jewellery, and said I should be much pleased if she would accept it as a present. She admired the filigree-work, and was evidently much gratified, and asked me if I had a sister or a wife, as she would like to have embroidered shirts made for them if I thought they would be pleased with them. I said that my sister would be delighted to accept one, as she was very fond of beautiful things; and Shan embroideries, particularly the specimens seen at her house, were certainly exquisite in their design and workmanship.

When our visitors had gone, Mrs M‘Gilvary told me that the queen as well as the princess frequently visited her, and that her daughter, Mrs Cheek, at their request had made them full suits of European dress, and that they looked very well in them. I should think, however, that their handsome native costumes suit them much better, and it would be a pity to hide their feet in shoes or boots, for, like their hands, they are delicately formed—small and narrow, and decidedly pretty.

Next morning two male elephants with silver trappings, and roofed howdahs with beautifully carved frames, were led up to the verandah for us to mount. Mine was a very large one, measuring fully ten feet from the top of the shoulder to the ground, but rather awkward in its gait, which made it unpleasant to ride; Dr Cushing’s was slightly smaller, and more agreeable for riding. Ease in gait is one of the great considerations when hiring or purchasing an elephant to ride, for there is as much difference in their gait as there is in that of horses. One with pleasant paces and a swift walk always fetches a high price, and should walk fully four miles an hour, or double the pace of an ordinary elephant. Females are very often easier for riding than the males, but it is considered derogatory for a noble to be seen on one.

Having comfortably settled ourselves in our howdahs, with a tin of gingerbread nuts, a Chinese cosey-covered teapot, and an enamelled iron cup and saucer on each of our seats, and our lunch packed away under them, we started, and after crossing the river above the bridge, followed the road which skirts the northern moat of the city. In half an hour we passed the White Elephant Gate, the chief entrance to the city; and after traversing rice-fields for about an hour, we reached the foot of the hill, and commenced to ascend the spur by a path which runs between the aqueduct that supplies Zimmé with water, and Huay Kao, the parent stream. The foot of the hill lies four miles from the east end of the bridge.

To the north of the city, immediately bordering the road we had traversed, lay the remains of the ancient city of Kiang Yuen, which has perhaps given rise to the Zimmé Shans being known as Yuen Shans by the Burmese. I had no time to inspect the ruins, but noticed several large temples and pagodas. One of the latter, known as the Chinese pagoda, is peculiar in shape, being formed of five flattened balls of brick masonry, each diminishing at the top, and placed one above the other. It has no umbrella, or htee, at the top, and is said to have been erected by a Chinese general named Utau, when besieging the city some centuries ago.

Some distance beyond the city the road crosses the ramparts and moats of a large fort, which had been erected by the Burmese when they last besieged the city in 1776. This fort is now known as Muang Soon Dok, the town of the flower-garden. To the south of the fort, and between the city and Loi Soo Tayp, are the ruins of Muang La Maing, the ancient capital of the Lawas, of which nothing but the ramparts and ditches remain. It is upon the site of this city that Kun Ngu, the third son of Kun Lung, the chief of Muang Mau, is said to have built his capital. Kun Lung, according to the story of Muang Mau, which was translated by Mr Ney Elias, descended from heaven by a golden ladder into the Shweli valley, near Bhamo, in A.D. 568.