The day after our arrival, the foreign minister, or kengwoon meng-gyee, paid us a visit, and invited us to a breakfast, which was served with great profusion, and was almost English in its style. At a separate table tea was prepared of two sorts; one the ordinary infusion of tea leaves, the other from hard black cakes stamped with Chinese letters, and exactly resembling tablets of Indian ink. These are prepared by the Shans from the Chinese leaf tea, and produce a liquor as pale as sherry, but of excellent flavour. The visit and breakfast of the foreign minister was followed in due succession by similar civilities on the part of the other meng-gyees; and a day was appointed for our presentation to the king, an honour which had been vouchsafed to the mission of 1868 neither on its outward nor homeward journey. Accompanied by the British Resident, Captain Strover, we proceeded on royal elephants, sent for our use, to the palace enclosure, where we found the meng-gyees seated on carpets in a small hlot, or open hall, outside the palace gate. Having doffed our shoes, we seated ourselves on the carpets with feet carefully hidden, according to court etiquette, and conversed with the ministers, while attendants served tea, fruits, and cakes. At last we were informed that the king was ready to receive us; so, having resumed our boots, we proceeded through a small postern in the inner palace stockade into the large open space, on the far side of which rose the lofty temple-like structure with its nine roofs, topped by the golden htee which marks the centre of the capital and state of Burma. Boots were again removed, and we ascended the short flight of steps into a spacious open hall with rows of gilded pillars, and filled with a numerous guard, all prostrated on their knees before the august presence of the meng-gyees who escorted us. Two more halls were successively passed through, and then through a side passage the audience hall was reached. This was a large apartment painted white, with a gilded railing cutting off two-thirds of its area. In the wall opposite to the railing were a pair of gilded folding-doors, and on the right and left a row of pillars. From amidst the ranks of the body-guard, all dressed in spotless white, and squatted on the ground, we entered within the railing, and imitated in our own way the uncomfortable position prescribed by etiquette, carefully turning our feet to the rear. Behind either side of us, were the ministers of state duly crouching. Before the folding-doors, and a few yards removed from us, was spread a gorgeous velvet carpet of red and gold pattern, on which stood a golden couch richly bejewelled. A square pillow, an opera-glass, and two golden boxes were laid ready for the absent occupant, and by the head of the couch stood a betel box in the form of a golden henza, or sacred goose, inlaid with jewels.
Presently the folding-doors were thrown open, disclosing a long vista of golden portals, through which we saw his Majesty of Burma advancing, accompanied by a little boy five or six years old. The Burmese ministers, courtiers, and body-guard instantly bowed their faces to the ground, and remained prone with hands held up in the attitude of supplication. The Europeans bowed after their fashion, and the king, a man of about sixty years, with a refined, intellectual face, quick eye, and pleasing but dignified manners, reclined on the couch and saluted us graciously. He then entered into a complimentary conversation, looking at us through his opera-glass, though not twenty yards distant. He expressed himself in the most friendly manner, and offered one of his steamers to convey the party to Bhamô, which was politely declined on the ground of all arrangements having been already made. All his questions were duly repeated by one of the officials crouching at our side, who rendered into courtly phraseology the somewhat laconic replies of Colonel Browne. After the interview had lasted about fifteen minutes, the king suddenly closed the conversation, the folding-doors flew open, and he disappeared. The Burmese raised their heads, the Englishmen stretched their legs, fruits and cakes were served on silver salvers and cold water in golden cups, while the meng-gyees themselves helped us and pressed us to eat.
Thence we were conducted to view the so-called white elephant in his small but richly adorned dwelling, which, with the concomitants of golden umbrellas and attendants, he does not deserve by his rarity, as he is not whiter, except about the head, than many elephants I have seen in India.
For the rest of the palace and the surrounding city, the short description already given will still serve. The suburbs manifested a decided increase in the number of buildings and population, and the inhabitants seemed more busy and prosperous than ever, as a proof of which we remarked a new bazaar, built two years ago, twelve hundred feet long and five hundred broad. The beauty of the environs, as viewed from the angle towers of the city wall, seemed as striking as when first beheld, and was enhanced by the lake-like waters of the broad moat which now surrounds the walls of the city. Besides this additional defence, the king is engaged in the construction of a fort on the left bank of the river between Ava and Amarapoora. When approaching the capital, we had noticed the works, distant at this season more than a mile from the channel, though in the rainy season the river must reach almost to the walls. Immediately opposite, on the right bank, rise the chimneys of an iron foundry erected to work the iron obtained from the neighbouring Tsagain hills. Like other Burmese works, both are still unfinished, and are likely never to reach completion.
The steamer Mandalay arrived on January 2nd, bringing the numerous and cumbrous boxes of presents, the Australian and Arab horses, and the kangaroo dogs, all under the charge of the Sikh guard and Mr. Fforde, superintendent of police, who was to bring the guard back from the frontiers of China. A list of the fire-arms on board had been forwarded to the royal officials, and the Burmese customs officers had examined those brought at the frontier station of Menhla to see that they tallied with the list. On the following day we embarked, accompanied by Captain Strover and his medical attendant, Dr. Cullimore, who, with a tsare-daw-gyee deputed by the king to look after our wants, were to accompany us as far as Bhamô.
The cordial reception experienced at the capital, and the readiness shown by all the officials to “comfort and assist” the mission, seemed to prove from the first that the king of Burma was sincere in his promise to secure us a safe passage through his dominions. Sinister rumours of his real dislike to the mission were, it may be said, of course, not wanting, some of which reached our ears in the capital itself, and others at a later period. However, we felt more inclined to regard actions than mere words, and there has been no reason subsequently to doubt the king of Burma respecting the promises he had made. A royal steamer, laden with cargo and passengers, left the capital for Bhamô before we got our steamer and its flat under weigh. The latter was a large barge, somewhat resembling a Thames shallop, the hull loaded with three hundred tons of salt, and the main deck, over which the upper deck, or rather story, was raised on iron uprights, crowded with steerage passengers. Our party occupied the cabins in the fore part of the flat, the forecastle of which served us as an open-air saloon. The navigation of the Irawady in the dry season is somewhat uncertain, and the voyage proved unusually long. We had scarcely proceeded a few miles when it was discovered that the stores for the guard had been unloaded at Mandalay, and it was necessary for the steamer to cast off the flat, and return for the missing provender. The next morning, soon after starting, some native boats, laden with firewood, coming down the river, were swept by an eddy under the paddle-wheels. The steamer had been stopped, but the crews, being short-handed, were unable to pull their boats clear; they managed, however, to save their lives, but boats and cargo were totally lost. The next incident was the grounding of our too deeply laden flat on a sandbank, where we were obliged to remain for four days, until the steamer returned to Mandalay for a second flat, into which part of the cargo was transhipped. Thus by the end of the first week, we had only made twenty-five miles out of the two hundred and fifty to Bhamô.
From this point, no further delays were experienced, save those due to the usual morning fogs; and our upward voyage was, in all other respects, agreeable. We were received with every demonstration of respect by the officials of all the towns en route. On approaching the places of most importance, we were met by war-boats sent to escort us for a mile or more to the landing, where the local militia was arrayed as a guard of honour. Reception halls had been erected, and the young women were assembled singing and dancing, or rather posturing, as the performers do not stir from one spot, but sway the body and arms in measured and not ungraceful movements. Sometimes, when unable to stop, we saw the dance proceeding on the river bank. At Myadoung, the “army” drawn up in our honour consisted of three hundred men, ranged along the bank, who executed a serpentine manœuvre, as they marched to receive us at the landing-place, apparently to make their array seem more imposing; they wore no uniforms, and, besides dahs and spears, carried very old and well-worn flint muskets. At this place a handsome shed had been erected, where no less than sixty-four fair performers were assembled, and in the evening we patronised, by request, the performance of a regular pooay. All these entertainments had been commissioned by royal order, which the local officials obeyed to the best of their ability. Thus the Shuaygoo Woon came on board, and most earnestly invited us to halt for an hour, and honour his pooay by our presence, a request which, if we had known his real sentiments towards English visitors, would scarcely have been complied with. Above the second defile, we met the steamer which had preceded us coming down on her return trip, with a large flat laden with cargo and passengers.
We did not complete our journey till January 15th, having spent twelve days on the voyage, the last twelve miles of which, owing to the difficulty of the channel, took ten hours to accomplish. As the steamer neared the high river bank, the southern end of Bhamô, twelve large war-boats, each manned by thirty men, and one of which contained Captain Cooke, the British Resident, the Woon, and the other Burmese officials, paddled out to meet us, with much beating of gongs, and, passing in order, turned and followed in a long procession. The high bank was crowded with the townspeople, Shan-Burmese and Chinese, with an intermixture of Chinese Shans and Kakhyens. As soon as the steamer and flats were moored, the Resident and the Woon, with his tsitkays, came on board, and welcomed us to Bhamô. The Burmese had prepared a house in the town for our accommodation, but the Resident pressed us to take up our quarters in the Residency, whither we according proceeded. This is a fine building of teak, which has been erected at a cost of £1100, though a similar one at Rangoon would have cost at least £2000. It occupies a commanding position on the site of an old Chinese fort near the river bank, about a mile north of the town. This old fort, at my first visit, was completely hidden in jungle; the moat is still wonderfully perfect, and encloses a large area, of which the residency compound, about two acres in extent, forms but a small portion. This is surrounded by a fence or wooden framework, covered with mats. Outside the gate a zayat has been erected, which at this period was occupied by about fifty Kakhyens of the Mattin clan, whose chief had been summoned to Bhamô in reference to the possible claims of the central or embassy route. Living within the compound were a number of Shan families from the Sanda valley, who were waiting for the arrival of the Mandalay to carry them down the river, on a pilgrimage to the shrines of Rangoon. It was impossible to avoid regretting that the Residency has been built so far from the town, and in a situation so exposed to any sudden attack from Kakhyen or any other marauders. The jungle grows to the very edge of the moat, affording complete cover for assailants, while the interstices of the fence afford abundant opportunities for intruding guns or spears. One would think that the selection of a site within the town, and near the Woon’s house, would have seemed to argue more confidence in the Burmese authorities, with whom the Resident should be in constant and friendly intercourse, in order to effectually look after the interests confided to him, without setting up an imperium in imperio over the Kakhyens of the hills. Recent events have shown the insecurity of the present position, which, in the case of any serious attack, could not be defended by the sepoys of the Residency guard, who, at the time of our visit, could only muster eight effective men.
At the Residency we were welcomed by Mrs. Cooke, who shares with her husband the risks and banishment of life in this far-off place, giving a striking proof of the pluck and devotion to their lords which characterises our countrywomen. Here, too, we made the acquaintance with our future travelling companion, Mr. Ney Elias, and received the information that Mr. Margary had arrived safely at Manwyne, and might be daily expected to make his appearance at Bhamô.
The day after our arrival, we decided that Colonel Browne, Mr. Fforde, and myself, should reside in the town of Bhamô, for the greater convenience of communication with the Burmese, and, as far as I was concerned, with my staff of collectors. The Woon at once placed at my disposal a small bamboo structure, built on the site of the house tenanted by us in 1868. Opposite to it was the house, newly built, in readiness for the present mission, in which Colonel Browne and Mr. Fforde took up their quarters. The Woon was evidently much gratified by this proceeding on the part of the officers of the mission, as showing a friendly appreciation of his good offices. A temporary pavilion was speedily erected over the street between the two houses, and on our return from the Residency in the evening, a pooay was in full play before an admiring audience. As soon as we had taken our seats in the front of the verandah, trays of sweetmeats were set before us, and we sat and viewed the performance till nearly midnight, as the jovial laughter of the Burmese at the very broad jokes of the artists was not conducive to sleep.