CHAPTER XI.
FROM HOTHA TO BHAMÔ.
Adieu!—Latha—Namboke—The southern hills—Muangwye—Loaylone—The Chinese frontier—Mattin—Hoetone—View of the Irawady plain—A slippery descent—The Namthabet—The Sawady route—A solemn sacrifice—A retrospective survey.
On the 27th of August we bade adieu to our friends at Hotha, the wife and daughters of the chief coming out to “see us off”; while their tears, and reiterated requests that we would soon come again, might have been called forth by the departure of some near relatives or very dear friends. We offered to shake hands, “English fashion,” which the eldest daughter declined, as it was contrary to Shan etiquette, but the young wife of the chief mustered up courage to defy public opinion. The saluting guns were fired, and we started amidst the good wishes of a large crowd. The tsawbwa rode with us as far as the boundary of his domains; and all along the route his people turned out with many demonstrations of goodwill to the departing strangers. On the borders of Latha, our friend took leave of us with evident regret, and handed us over to the care of the Kakhyen chief of Namboke.
The Latha district is naturally even more picturesque than that of Hotha. The hills are nearer, and the glen, as it might be called, is more thickly wooded. The town of Latha, which we passed near at hand, though separated from the road by the Namsa river, appeared to be the largest and most populous in the whole valley. We were precluded from visiting it by the unwillingness of the old chieftain to receive the foreigners. A present and polite messages were, however, sent by our leader en passant, and a return present and complimentary message, personally dictated by the chief, were brought back by our messengers. The message attributed his inability to receive us to the prejudices of some of his subjects. He promised that, whenever we should come again, he and his people would be prepared to welcome our presence. His subjects seemed to be no less thriving than those in the other section. All along the route, many-roofed khyoungs, rising above the rich greenery, marked the whereabouts of villages, and pagodas of a very striking type covered the rounded hills and thickly wooded knolls.
We crossed the Namsa by a long wooden bridge, and soon found ourselves involved in a perfect maze of little conical grassy hills, which blocked up the western end of the valley. The road turned to the left from the narrow glen of the Namsa, and gradually ascended, following the course of the Namboke stream, and, crossing a number of small hills, attained the summit of the first spur of the easterly barrier of the valley. From this point to Namboke, the road wound over a succession of spurs, till the village was reached, lying among a group of little wooded hills formed by the junction of spurs of the secondary Hotha range with the great southern barrier of the Tapeng valley, which here unite. After a march of fourteen miles, performed in five hours, we arrived at 5 P.M. in a downpour of rain, which did not make the roofless shed provided as quarters at all inviting. The tsawbwa then conducted us to his house, where we alighted under a salute of three guns, and were accommodated partly in the strangers’ hall and partly in the portico, which latter proved populous with enemies to sleep. The urgent hospitality of the Namboke chief compelled us to gratify him by a day’s halt; and it was only by dogged determination that our leader succeeded in effecting a start at midday on the 29th.
From Namboke we descended into a deep hollow, and thence gradually ascended to the ridge of the main range bordering the Tapeng gorge, along which we travelled to Ashan, eight miles distant, where we put up for the night in Kakhyen houses. The footpath which did duty for road had been recently cleared of jungle by the Kakhyens, the fresh marks of whose dahs were visible on either side, as we wound through magnificent virgin forest. From occasional points of vantage on open hill brows, we looked down on a sea of foliage, unbroken by any clearing or sign of human habitation. From the summit level of the ridge, we looked to the right across the valley of the Tapeng, and saw Ponsee lying, a little speck, on the opposite slope, halfway between the Tapeng and the summit of the lofty Shitee-doung, also called Shitee Meru, as if after the Sacred Hill. The territory of Ponsee extends from this summit to that of Kad-doung, which rose behind us, so that Ashan with its dozen houses lies within the Ponsee borders. Below us, to the left, two narrow deep valleys ran east and west, separated by a low ridge, the termination of the southern boundary of Hotha, which speedily lost itself in the bewildering maze which results from the division and commingling of the great spurs of the main lines of upheaval of these mountains. In every direction, as far as the eye could reach, extended a sea of hills, some rising in great dome-shaped masses six thousand feet above the sea, clothed to their summits with dense forest, unbroken by any cultivation. The greater number of the lesser hills had been evidently cleared, and their abrupt slopes seemed, as it were, fashioned into huge flights of broad steps, the terraces for the rice and maize crops, while by the aid of a good field-glass little Kakhyen villages could be detected dotting the slopes.
We left Ashan in heavy rain, and commenced to descend in a southerly direction. The path led along the crest of a spur running down to a village. The ponies and mules could not keep their feet on the wet, slippery paths, and kept sliding down on their hindquarters. As steep declivities bordered the path, the descent was not without risk, and a pedestrian could only keep his footing by catching hold of the long grass, and so lowering himself down.
Having crossed the Namkhong, swollen by the rains into a tempestuous stream, which taxed the uttermost strength of the ponies, the path lay over a wet and muddy alluvial flat into another valley and across another torrent. We then made a very steep ascent up the mountain side, passing the village of Lasee, perched on a lofty rounded peak. From the height we gained a full view of the ranges to the southwards, running nearly parallel to each other, east-north-east and west-south-west, with intervening valleys, much broken up by spurs. A descent of a few hundred feet brought us to the village of Muangwye, on the southern slope of a hill covered with trees and enormous granite boulders.
Our halt here was a device of the local tsawbwa, who was anxious to have the honour of entertaining us. The other chiefs had gone on to Loaylone with the baggage and commissariat, expecting us to proceed to that village as our resting-place for the night. The chief did his best to reconcile us to his hospitable ruse by a hearty welcome and liberal supplies of sheroo and samshu.
The usual and direct route from Ashan to Hoetone, the last Kakhyen village before descending to the plain, only occupies one good day’s march; but the anxiety of the respective chiefs to entertain us caused them to lead us from village to village, and make three marches instead of one; and as the rain was almost incessant, and the path up and down the hillsides slippery in the extreme, we found Kakhyen regard almost as embarrassing as the former hostility.
The next day we crossed the Muangkah stream, about fifteen feet across, and flowing in a deep nullah, which is the boundary line between the Lakhone and Cowlee Kakhyens, into whose borders we now entered. The glen was very narrow, but the rich black soil very fertile, judging from the appearance of the small rice fields. The only bridge was a felled tree, less than a foot broad, with a ricketty bamboo tied on as a handrail, along which we scrambled, almost envying the animals, which swam across. Ascending another ridge, we passed the remains of the old Chinese frontier fort, commanding this route, as a custom-house, as that above the Nampoung commands the Ponsee road. A hundred feet below, the village of Loaylone occupied a steep slope, stretching out in an amphitheatre. This was the largest and most thriving Kakhyen village we had yet seen, and the chief’s house presented the unusual feature of a high bamboo fence enclosing it. The chief was bountiful in his supplies of fowls and sheroo; and in the evening his younger brother, the tsawbwa of Mattin, paid us a visit, and proved to be the most polished and intelligent Kakhyen we had met, his manners and style being fully equal to those of any Burmese or Shan gentleman. His dress was a mixture of Shan and Chinese, but his hair was arranged in Burmese fashion. He proved to be perfectly acquainted with Burmese and Chinese, and held a long conversation on the advantages of re-establishing trade, in which he professed the utmost readiness to co-operate. He was very anxious that we should become his guests at Mattin for several days; and, after exhausting the pleas of the ill-health of some of the party, the rains, &c., we were obliged to urge that delays on the way would prejudice the minds of our rulers against the embassy route. It was necessary to remain a day at Loaylone, as, according to custom, the mules and porters had to be paid off here, and replaced by others belonging to the Cowlee Kakhyens. The ordinary central route to Momien is said to be from this place to Muangwan, a view of which valley can be gained from the Chinese fort of Loaylone, whence the road leads to Nantin, avoiding the Hotha valley. There was, of course, some trouble with the muleteers, who invariably put forth extortionate demands, only to be met by firm refusal. At the very moment of our departure, two of the Namboke pawmines laid an embargo on a mule-load of luggage as a pawn for payment for some rice, which they had already received.
The direct road to Hoetone is only six miles by a comparatively level route along the paddy fields, but the necessity of accepting Mattin’s invitation lengthened our march to fifteen miles, involving the ascent of one of the highest ranges. In a glen below Loaylone we met a caravan of mules from Bhamô laden with cotton and salt. From this point steep ascents over a succession of spurs, and descents into shallow valleys, brought us to the summit of the main ridge at an elevation of five thousand feet. Close to our left, and five or six hundred feet higher, rose the high dome-shaped hill which we had sighted from Ashan. To the south-east and south rose a few still higher peaks, but none apparently exceeding an elevation of six thousand feet. The summit of this ridge was covered with fine turf and a few trees, and strewn with enormous granite boulders, under the shelter of which were built the houses of a small village named Loayline.
From this point we began to descend the main mass of the Kakhyen hills, and soon arrived at the village of Mattin, situated on the ridge of a spur. A salute of three guns and a musical clash of gongs and cymbals announced our arrival, and we were ushered up a broad flight of stone steps leading to a Chinese gateway in a substantial brick and stone wall. Within this stood the chief’s house, of Kakhyen design, but, by its construction and rich ornaments of carving, deserving the name of a Kakhyen palace. After being duly presented to the chief’s family, and admired by an enthusiastic crowd of his subjects, who, be it said, were vastly superior both in their appearance and dress to their compatriots of the northern hills, we were conducted into a small external pavilion, and refreshed ourselves in privacy.
From Mattin a descent of two miles brought us to Hoetone, situated on a flattened depression of the same spur, strewn with huge gneiss and granite boulders. In front of the tsawbwa’s house three flat blocks of stone, about three feet high, were fixed in the ground in line, which were described as the altar whereon buffaloes were offered to the nats. We had observed similar stones in a grove outside the village, which the numerous skulls strewn about showed to have been the scene of numerous offerings. In this place there was also a circular wall, three feet high, with one of the standing stones built into it, and the ground covered with the decaying skulls of sacrificed buffaloes. The next morning we were visited first by the aged tsawbwa of Hoetone, accompanied by his wives, children, and grandchildren, all in their best attire, and laden with the usual presents of fowls, vegetables, cooked rice, and sheroo. The next to appear were the tsawbwas of Kadaw and Sakhiy, dressed in ancient black satin jackets, with their womankind attired à la Kakhyen, but decorated with a profusion of Shan silver ornaments. The sub-chief who had followed us to Momien, and died there of small-pox, was a son of Kadaw, and although he had come to Momien of his own accord, Sladen considered it just to promise to the old father that, when at Bhamô, he would consult with the other chiefs as to compensation for his son’s death. With this assurance the father departed well pleased; but a younger brother of the deceased thought fit to bully and demand instant payment, and enlisted a few of the muleteers on his side. The usual Kakhyen wrangle and bluster ensued, but being met with firm expostulation, according to custom, ended in nothing; but our departure had been thereby delayed till midday, when we gladly recommenced our descent to the plains.
In dry weather it is usual to travel from Hoetone to Bhamô by Momouk, across the plain, on the left bank of the Tapeng; but the low grounds being now under water, it was necessary to proceed to the Tapeng below its exit from the hills, and descend it in boats to Bhamô. A short distance below Hoetone, we came to a division in the road, and a discussion ensued with the Mantai tsawbwa, who was acting as guide to the advance party of the cavalcade, as to the proper path to follow. One road, along the spur which we had descended, appeared evidently to be the direct route, as the other turned off to the left down a deep hollow, towards another spur to the southward. This, the tsawbwa insisted, was as good and as short as the other, and we perforce followed him. From the brow of the spur a noble panorama of the extensive plain of the Irawady burst upon our view.
The great river, now swollen to its fullest width, wound like a broad band of silver through the plain, and our followers literally jumped and shouted with joy at the prospect, realising the speedy termination of their six months’ wanderings. Those of our party whose dignity forbade such demonstrations rejoiced no less in spirit; for even this grand hill scenery becomes wearisome when one has to scramble up the steep mountain paths and slide down the counter slope in torrents of rain. We could not grumble at the slight detour which the Mantai chief had imposed upon us, for the whole population of his village was eagerly awaiting our arrival, and saluted us with five guns. In his house, which was enclosed with a bamboo palisade, mats were spread for us, and his wife and daughters, two almost handsome maidens, vied with each other in demonstrations of welcome and proffers of very excellent sheroo. Leaving them highly delighted with a few bright silver coins and compliments, we remounted, and began a slippery descent through bamboo jungle, in which there was a fair chance of being impaled on the fallen stems, as the ponies slid down on their haunches, utterly unable to change their course. Having at least reached four thousand feet below Hoetone, we had to cross at the bottom a roaring mountain torrent by a newly constructed bridge. A large boulder lay in midstream, and two large bamboos were placed from it to the banks on either side, with smaller cross pieces to keep all secure; this primitive and rickety bridge, about eighteen inches wide, sloped down to the stone, and then rose up at a steep incline to the other bank. It was a perilous path for man and beast, for to lose one’s balance meant being swept down by the resistless current into the Tapeng. The level ground on either side of the stream was closed in by high hills, which echoed with the roar of the latter river; but the high grass which covered the alluvial flat hid it from us, until, having crossed a low spur, we came upon the banks of the foaming yellow flood, rushing down to the plains in a magnificent torrent. About two miles further, we left the Tapeng, and turned to the south-west, and, crossing a low spur, came upon the right bank of a moderate-sized, deep-flowing stream, with a very strong current, called Namthabet, which flows into the Tapeng, at its exit from the hills. This stream had to be crossed by a raft, which two Kakhyens had been sent from Hoetone to construct, but they had only completed half their task when we arrived. We were therefore compelled to bivouac, and all hands set to work to construct the small bamboo huts thatched with grass, which the Burmese call tai. The night was fine, but the sandflies proved utter foes to sleep, defying mosquito curtains; and the morning brought a tremendous thunderstorm, followed by torrents of rain, as if the hill nats wished to give us a farewell benefit.
As soon as the raft was completed, the jemadar and a number of Burmans embarked, furnished with long bamboos to pole it across; but the current swept it down stream, and it was only saved by the men jumping into the water and pushing it to bank, where all held on by the overhanging branches. The Kakhyen method of stretching a rope across the stream was next resorted to, and under the experienced direction of Captain Bowers a strong rope of the outer layer of the bamboo was speedily improvised. This attempt also failed, for the rope broke in two when the raft was in midstream, but the men kept firm hold, and hauled themselves to the opposite bank. At last we succeeded, by means of two ropes, in ferrying all the party across, drenched to the skin by the rain and river water. On the left bank we were met by the choung-sa of Tsitgna with an escort, sent to accompany us to Nampoung, on the Tapeng. Before us lay a line of low hills, running nearly north and south, dividing the valley of the Namthabet from the Burmese plain, into which they fade gradually by long undulations. Their eastern face is covered almost exclusively with bamboos, but the western slope is thickly wooded with numerous species of forest trees, until the plain is reached, when eng trees and tall elephant grass take their place. On arriving at the Tapeng, after a march of five miles, we found two large boats in readiness, one of them nicely carpeted, and carrying a band of musicians beating gongs and tomtoms. All our party, including the Kakhyen chiefs who had accompanied us, being embarked, we were towed by two war-boats, each manned by thirty men, across the broad and quickly flowing Tapeng, to the village of Tsitgna, where we were conducted by the Woon’s private secretary to a small pavilion, comfortably arranged for our reception. The Burmese officials were most attentive; gratuitous supplies of eatables were brought in abundance, and even the Kakhyen chiefs and their followers were supplied with all they needed.
On the 5th of September we settled the hire of the mules and porters without the slightest disagreement, all the baggage having been safely delivered, without the loss of a single article between Hotha and Tsitgna. Even the load of the mule detained at Loaylone, which had been divided into bundles for two porters, arrived safe, and, to the honour of the Kakhyens be it said, without so much as even an opened bottle of brandy being tampered with.
The next morning we embarked on boats constructed of two canoes, carrying a platform and a canopy or roof of leaves overhead, and glided down the broad deep Tapeng, which this season is one thousand five hundred feet wide, and deep enough for an ordinary river steamer, as far as the hills. On the way down, we looked back for a parting glance at the Kakhyen hills. On either side of the river rose the two lofty peaks, the Shitee-doung on the north and the Kad-doung on the south, seeming to stand like sentinels, to guard the routes to China, and in a very literal sense, for the old Chinese forts and frontier custom-houses occupied strong positions on either mountain, and the boundary line of the Flowery Kingdom is almost defined by these heights. Near the mouth of the river we were met by the tsare-daw-gyee with two war-boats, which towed us to Bhamô, where we landed at 2.30 in the afternoon of September 5th, having left it on the 26th of February.
The Burmese surveyor who had been despatched from Hotha to examine the route to Sawady had arrived at Bhamô on the 26th of August, having accomplished his journey in ten days. He had travelled in the disguise of a Shan, accompanied by a guide recommended by the Hotha chief, and our own Kakhyen interpreter. Carrying no instruments except an aneroid for measuring the heights, he had performed his task of observations very satisfactorily. From Hotha he had crossed the intervening ridge, seven hundred feet above the Muangtha valley, into the much larger valley of Muangwan, lying at about the same level as that of Nantin. This Chinese Shan state was governed by the grandmother of the youthful tsawbwa, acting as regent during his minority. She and her headmen agreed in promising safe conduct to all English traders adopting that route. A constant stream of mules and pack bullocks was described as passing from Sawady to Muangwan, whence they proceeded either to Nantin or to Muangkun. The route was clear of all obstructions, and smooth and even throughout. Two Kakhyen districts were passed through, named Bhagon and Phonkan, in the latter of which the highest elevation occurs. Both agreed to maintain the old Chinese tariff of one rupee for mules and eight annas for bullocks, and the Phonkan chief expressed his wish that English traders would adopt this route, and guaranteed their safety.
Our old quarters in the town of Bhamô had been thoroughly repaired, and were ready to receive us, while the tsawbwas, who had accompanied us, to the number of thirty-one, all of whom ruled districts adjacent to the central route, were housed by the Burmese in zayats outside the stockade. The object of their attendance was to take part in a solemn sacrifice according to their custom, and to enter into an engagement ratified by the most binding oath, that they would afford safe conduct and protection to all traders and travellers who might hereafter cross their hills between Bhamô and the Shan states. The ceremony took place on the 13th, after sundry open objections and hidden obstacles raised by the Burmese, who, no doubt, were at first rather puzzled by the transaction, but, after clear explanations by Major Sladen, raised no further difficulty. A species of scaffold was erected, consisting of strong posts sunk into the ground, with cross pieces, to which the victim, a buffalo, was bound. An altar was reared twenty feet in height, with a square platform of bamboos, on which the offering was placed. Before the sacrifice, and again before the offering was made, the nats or deities were duly invoked in a solemnly chanted prayer. The buffalo was firmly bound by its horns to the scaffold, and then thrown on one side, so that the whole weight of the body bore on the partially twisted neck. A Kakhyen rushed forward, in one hand holding a plantain leaf cup full of water, and brandishing his dah in the other. Simultaneously the water was thrown over the victim, and the fatal blow delivered in the neck with a force and effect as fatal as the stab of the matador. The carcase was at once cut up, the blood being received in a large vessel, while the entrails were laid as offerings to the nats on the elevated altar. With the blood a quantity of samshu was mixed, and stirred up with the points of dahs and spears, and each chief in turn drank from the bowl, and uttered his vow of fidelity to the common cause. Such was the rite that the three chiefs had joined in at Ponsee when leagued for our destruction, and now thirty-one chiefs bound themselves solemnly to maintain peace and give protection to future travellers through their borders. This was the concluding act which terminated our expedition, and it may be permitted to us to look back with satisfaction to the fact, that of the whole party which set out of Bhamô, with the exception of one sepoy and a native collector, who succumbed to disease, all returned in safety. The natives of the Kakhyen hills and of the Shan valleys had learned to regard their at first suspected or dreaded visitors as friends and benefactors; and if the advance had been slow, and in the opinion of some costly, the return had been easily accomplished, and not without a wealth of “golden opinions” won from the various chiefs with whom Englishmen for the first time had been brought in successive relations.
It is scarcely within the scope of this volume to review the political aspect of the work performed, but it is impossible to refrain from some comments. The term failure has been freely applied to the outcome of this expedition, and the conduct of the leader has been, only recently, most harshly criticised. Considering that his instructions, as received from the Chief Commissioner of British Burma, were to investigate thoroughly the causes of the cessation of trade, to discover the exact political position of the Kakhyens, the Shans, and the Panthays, and to influence these communities in favour of the restoration of commerce, it can hardly be alleged that the prescribed objects were not fully attained. While it had been considered by the superior authorities desirable to advance to Yung-chang, or, if possible, to Tali-fu, the leader had been strictly enjoined not to risk the safety of the members of the mission. From Bhamô he had to feel his way, contending against intrigues on the part of the Kakhyens and misunderstanding on the part of the Shans, fomented by the misrepresentations of the jealous Chinese merchants at Bhamô. The country to be traversed was unknown, and in an abnormal state of confusion. Where Burma ended, and China commenced, was a problem, for the ancient frontier lines had been temporarily obliterated, the authority of the mandarins had receded into the interior of Yunnan, and that of the usurping Mahommedan rulers was only partially felt to the westward of Momien. Not till that town was reached could the desired information be obtained, or the true relation of the intervening valley states to Burma or China be discerned. Not a step forwards had been taken without securing beforehand the consent, and, as it proved, the welcome, of the various rulers, subordinate or supreme; and care was especially taken to disown any political partisanship, and to proclaim to all that our object was to explore in the interests of commerce.
When, after a short stay at Momien, it became evident that further progress was at once dangerous and in the existing state of things liable to embroil us with Chinese constituted authorities, a return was resolved on, and only retarded by uncontrollable circumstances. To have obeyed orders, and in various and trying positions to have manifested a patient endurance in order to reach the farthest possible goal, and return thence with the wished for information, and thus prepare the way for future travellers, may not be accounted brilliant exploits; but these are the arduous duties of a careful scout and a successful pioneer. The reader can form his own opinion as to whether these were not worthily performed by Major Sladen.
Those who shared his journeyings, though not his responsibilities, and witnessed his cautious and resolute bearing under novel and perplexing conditions, cannot but record their opinion that he deserves a larger meed of praise than has been as yet accorded to his conduct of the first English expedition to Yunnan.