_1874-1875. BURMAH_
Ordered to India--Bombay--Malabar coast--Madras--Intended
expeditions--Rangoon--Shoay Dagon--Delhi Royal family--A coming
race--Up the Irawaddy--Donabew--Hansadah--Akouk-tong--Prome--Thyet
Myo--History--Petroleum wells--Great forest--Our progress--Mengee
Sekan--Night shelters--Wandering Karens--Tonghoo--“Complication”
with the King--The Sitang River--Boats and crews--Shoay Gheen--
Sitang town--Its associations--Kadouk-Kyatsoo creek--Back to
Rangoon--Comments.
Suddenly, and without note of warning, the contents of one of those
long blue War Office envelopes informed me that in consequence of a
death vacancy in India, I was to proceed without delay to Madras.
The immediate result was a good deal of inconvenience and expense,
arrangements having been made for a somewhat longer stay in camp than
under the circumstances was now possible.
Leaving Portsmouth by the Indian troopship _Euphrates_ early in
September, in due time, and without adventure, we[325] landed at
Bombay. Arrived at the capital city of the Western Presidency, the
hospitality of one of India’s merchant princes[326] was extended to us,
a letter of introduction[327] having preceded us. It so happened that
an unusually heavy rainstorm had passed over that part of India a few
days previous, causing complete destruction of railways, besides much
damage in other respects. Our departure was accordingly delayed several
days, it being necessary that we should proceed by steamer towards our
destination. Meanwhile, however, the kind civility of our host was
unrelaxed; short trips were organized by him for our pleasure--one
to the famous Caves of Elephanta on the island of Gharipuri, the
sculptures in which represent nearly, if not all, the mythology of
Hindooism.
The first month of the “cold” season was well advanced, the cold being
rather in name than reality. Otherwise our sea trip along the coast of
Malabar was pleasant enough; the bold scenery of the western ghats in
some places striking, in others grand; the cities, towns, and natural
harbours, at several of which our ship made a brief stay to land and
take on board goods and passengers, became so many objects of interest
to us and a few others, who, like ourselves, had been also forced to
adopt this mode of travelling.
Arrived off Beypore, we disembarked; thence took train, and so in
due time reached Madras. The formality of reporting arrival to the
authorities concerned once got over, duty was entered upon, our
residence temporarily taken up in one of the large but otherwise
comfortless hotels with which the place was provided, all such
establishments being the property of, and managed by, natives.
Rumours circulated that a military expedition was likely to proceed
_via_ Burmah towards Yunnan, to co-operate with a corresponding force
to be dispatched thither by the Yangtse kiang, with a view to inflict
punishment on those by whom Mr. Margery had recently been murdered
in that province. As a preliminary measure, the Commander-in-Chief,
Sir Frederick Haines, determined to make a tour through what was then
British Burmah, to satisfy himself in regard to the capabilities of the
country to meet requirements of an army, including food, transport,
supplies, and accommodation.
Together with other members of the staff with whom special details
relating to the expected expedition would rest, His Excellency and
party embarked; the pier on the occasion being crowded with his
numerous friends, a guard of honour, in accordance with his rank and
position, also drawn up. The _Oriental_ quickly steamed away; in due
time touched at Coconada and Vizagapatam respectively, then away across
the Bay of Bengal, landing us safely at Rangoon on the seventh day from
that on which we had gone on board. Hospitable friends awaited our
landing, and by the kindness of Surgeon-General and Mrs. Kendall I was
made comfortable as their guest.
Various objects and places of interest in and around this modern but
prosperous city were visited and examined, so soon as relaxation from
official duties permitted us to do so; but it is not intended in these
notes to give more than a very brief record of experiences in these
respects.[328] The first to claim attention was the famous Golden
Temple, the Shoay Dagon, the most important Buddhistic memorial in
Burmah, originally erected, according to legend, as a monument over
eight hairs from the head of the Sage. In the course of our wanderings
among the many smaller temples by which the dagon proper is surrounded,
we met at intervals female devotees,--nuns, in fact, who had given
themselves up to the service of the temple, their object in doing so,
according to our informant, that in the next transmigration they might
be born men!
In the course of the day’s excursion we came upon a very
unroyal-looking “palace,” now the residence of the Delhi Begum, and
then upon an equally unroyal-looking personage, described as the
remaining prince, his brothers having been shot by Hodson in 1857.
The residence of other political prisoners were pointed out to us,
including the house in which the deposed “Grand Mogul” of Delhi
died.[329]
The extent to which the Chinese element monopolized various kinds of
business and industry was remarkable; it was no less evident that the
best portion of the town was theirs. In course of our rounds we met
with several examples of what may in a sense be looked upon as a new
race; namely, fruits of unions between Chinese men and Burmese women.
Those with whom we met were young women, comely in appearance; their
costumes a happy mixture of styles of the nationalities personified
in themselves. It is probable that the males adopted the costume
pertaining to one or other nationality, and so were undistinguishable
from these.
Our journey upwards by steamer on the Irawaddy was pleasant, and in
some respects interesting. The early portion was through a succession
of narrow creeks before getting into the main stream, somewhat after
the manner of the Soonderbunds, but on a small scale as compared to
them. As we advanced, a rich, well-cultivated country opened up on
either side of us. The fresh cool air on deck made thick clothing
desirable. On either side well-to-do villages rose at short intervals
as if out of the river, while on it were thickly dotted boats of
various sizes transporting goods of many kinds. Rafts of timber,
consisting of several portions ingeniously united, and well steered,
were met with winding, as it were in folds, along the current. Fields
of rice and gardens of banana gave place to patches of forest,
separated by tracts covered by tall reed grass; then dense bamboo
jungle, while from some of the riverside villages odours wafted off
which told that in them various delicacies from fish, such as Burmans
love, but other people abominate, were in course of preparation. Such a
place was Pantanau, at which we spent a night.
Resuming our journey, the somewhat large towns of Yandoon and Donabew
were passed in quick succession, the latter associated with the
history of the first Burmese War, 1824-26. There, one of the most
severely contested battles of that war took place; the Burmese leader,
Bundoola, was killed. At the same place in the war of 1852 severe
fighting took place, heavy losses being inflicted upon our forces by
the native troops under command of Myot Zoon.
In due time we are off Hansadah, also associated with the wars of 1825
and 1852; the name of the place itself--namely, _Hansa_--_anser_,
goose--being derived from Turanian mythology. At a little distance from
that place a halt was made to replenish the stock of firewood; the time
so spent enabling us to take a short excursion in the near vicinity.
Animal life in great profusion existed everywhere; cattle in excellent
keeping, for the Burmese are extremely kind to them; poultry of all
sorts in abundance; sparrows in myriads, and if possible more bold than
are their kind in our own country; water birds in great numbers; land
birds equally so are everywhere, nor are they as yet slaughtered in the
name of “sport,” as doubtless they will be when British guns become
more numerous here than, luckily for the wild creatures, they are at
present.
On either side the country changes gradually in appearance; at first
an uninterrupted level, then undulating, the inequalities greater and
greater as we proceed. Now the dim outline of the Arracan Yoma range
looms in the distance; we reach the high bold promontory of Akouk-tong,
round the base of which the Irawaddy rushes violently. On its
river-face several rude carvings represent Buddha; on its summit and
landward declivity stand pagodas of various sizes, the whole connected
with each other by winding pathways. During the war of 1852 the Burmese
erected a powerful battery upon the summit of that promontory, for
the capture of which a party, under command of Captain Gardener, was
landed from the _Enterprise_. Unhappily it fell into an ambuscade, its
commander beheaded, his head carried away as a trophy of victory. More
and more distinctly the hills of Prome came into view; forests of teak,
interspersed with patches of custard-apple trees, were seen clothing
their sides, tracts of underwood everywhere. Now we obtain glimpses of
a well-made military road, to be used if need be by troops from Akayab
to this place.
Prome is a city or town of considerable importance; its chief products,
lac, petroleum, silk, and lacquer. Occupying an elevated site is “The
Holy Hair Pagoda,” smaller in dimensions than its counterpart the Shoay
Dagon at Rangoon; like it, approached by an extensive flight of steps,
on either side of which is a long series of mythological figures.
A variety of bells, large and small, swung from stands, at short
intervals among the buildings connected with the temple proper. These
bells, when struck by a mallet of deer’s horn, suspended from their
stands for the purpose, emit a sound of surprising sweetness. In the
second Burmese War, namely that of 1852, Prome was taken possession of
by our troops on October 11.
Thyet Myo is reached after a few such mishaps as are incidental to
travel on the Irawaddy; among them breaks-down of machinery, leaking of
steam boilers, running “fast” upon sand-banks, getting doubled up in
the coils of rafts, and so on. As on the occasion of our departure from
Madras, so on disembarking here, a guard of honour, with regimental
band and colour, salutes the chief; hospitable friends[330] invite us
to their houses; our party is comfortably and well provided for.
Thyet Myo, otherwise “Mango city,” has a history which dates back to
A.D. 250. In 1854 cantonments for British troops were erected near to
it, on a site so situated as to command the passage of the Irawaddy.
In 1857 the river deserted its old bed, making for itself a new one at
least a mile and a half distant, thus destroying the purpose originally
in view.
A tedious ride through thorny jungle, then along what was intended
to become a main line of road to Mendoon, took us to a series of
petroleum wells at Pendouk-ben. Regarding them great expectations were
entertained, and energetic endeavours were in progress accordingly; but
so far, their produce was limited to the oozing in small quantities of
“oil” from the sides of wells in course of formation in the schistoze
rock. Subsequently, that industry, there and elsewhere in the country,
has attained great importance.
Official duties over at Thyet Myo, our journey was resumed, all
arrangements made beforehand for an expected interesting if somewhat
arduous progress through the extensive forest that occupies the tract
of territory between the rivers Irawaddy and Sitang, including what is
called “the great Yoma range” of mountains, or more properly speaking,
hills. Our first move was to cross the first-named river and encamp
on its further bank. Next morning, we four[331] began our real trip,
all mounted, the large body of “followers” of all sorts composing our
escort making their way on foot.
Our progress during the next four days was along “roads” the roughness
and other difficulties of which rapidly increased as we went on;
villages and patches of cultivation became smaller and less frequent;
the people showed themselves curious to see the _kalas_, or white
foreigners, their own state of raggedness and dirt offensive to look
upon.
We had reached the densest part of the forest, at a point whence our
further progress was to be by elephants, a track being made in the
jungle by a number of men sent before us for that purpose. We reached
a stockaded village, such a defence in this secluded spot being very
necessary against marauders. The forest resounds with the voices of
birds, from the resplendent plumage of some of which the sunlight is
reflected in flashes. Later on all becomes silence, save from the
voices of our own party, and so we reach, as afternoon advances, the
halting place of Mengee Sekan.
Hitherto we have taken advantage for accommodation overnight of such
buildings as we found, in the shape chiefly of deserted Buddhist
monasteries, in various stages of decay. It became necessary to
extemporize a hut or bower in which to pass the night. Such a place
was quickly prepared for us by natives attached to our party, who, by
means of their _dahs_--half-knife, half-sword--cut down branches of
bamboos and trees; these they arranged and secured by ropes made of
bark and creepers: thus they made quarters in which we were by no means
uncomfortable.
Our elephant steeds carry us onwards, along the half-dried bed of
what in the rainy season is a mountain torrent, confined on either
side by precipitous cliffs, our progress at times interrupted by deep
pools, at others by boulders singly or in masses in the river bed;
these obstacles having to be circumvented as best was practicable, but
always causing much delay and inconvenience. Coming upon a pathway,
evidently used by wandering Karens, and made passable for us by our
dah-men already mentioned, our elephants have to scramble as best they
can upwards along the steep face of a mountain spur of the Yoma range.
We gain the summit, and from it obtain a wide and extensive view of
rich dense forest stretching far away, around, below the level of the
point from which we took our survey. We pass the watershed that divides
the tributaries to the Irawaddy and Sitang. Our descent is rough and
precipitous; we arrive at the Kyat-Moung creek, and for some miles
travel eastward along its bed; the forest on either side dense as
before, the brushwood and lower vegetation consisting chiefly of ferns
and stemless palms. After a day of somewhat arduous toil we reach an
open space, and there a bower being quickly prepared for us we rest for
the night.
Our journey resumed, the roadway we take is once again the bed of a
mountain stream, the banks high and steep; vegetation still dense,
huge creepers stretching from branch to branch, masses of parasitical
plants hanging from the highest arms. Soon the forest becomes less
dense; isolated houses, then villages, surrounded by patches of
cultivated ground, are reached. Such a village is Pyagone. It is under
the jurisdiction of Tonghoo, from which place letters have been sent
for us, and so we hear of those we care for. Here we part with our
elephants and other establishments belonging to Thyet Myo, exchanging
the former for small Burmese ponies, on which the remaining part
of our journey is performed. Several more marches were performed,
differing in no particular characteristic from those already alluded
to. Then, glittering in the sun, but still a long way in front of us,
the pinnacle of a gilded pagoda indicates the position of Tonghoo. As
we plod along the dusty way, we overtake a caravan of Shans, their
bullocks laden with merchandise to market. We reach the remains of what
was once the fortified wall by which the city was surrounded, but is
now a series of dilapidated fragments. Friends[332] come out to receive
and offer us hospitality; baths and good cheer soon set us up; we look
back amused at such small discomforts as we had recently undergone.
Tonghoo marks the eastern limit of what was, three centuries B.C.,
the empire of Asoka. The modern town, however, dates _only_ from
the tenth century of our era; its position, upon a peninsula round
which winds the river Sitang. At a distance eastward, the Karenee
range of mountains some four thousand feet in height, their sides
thickly covered by forest; the general aspect of the locality and its
surroundings forlorn and unattractive.
At the time of our visit a political “complication” with the king
of Burmah was considered likely to be the outcome of a different
interpretation as to the boundary line between Native and British
Burmah entertained by the Indian and Burmese officials; while the
Karens lay claim, in opposition to both, to a tract of territory
said to have been occupied by them from time immemorial. Some months
subsequently this matter was amicably arranged.
Our duties performed, our homeward journey began; we start away to
Tantabin, where long, narrow boats lie moored to the bank, awaiting to
take us on board, and so down the Sitang River. But the hospitality of
friends at Tonghoo[333] has yet another demonstration to the Chief and
his party ere we finally take leave. A sumptuous and costly _déjeûner_
awaits us in the _zyat_, or travellers’ rest-house at the ghat. When
the meal is over and we get on board each his particular boat, many
expressions of mutual good-will exchanged, much waving of hands and
handkerchiefs, and then--our river trip begins.
The kind of craft in which the next few days and nights must be spent
is peculiar. Mine consists of the scooped-out trunk of a tree, its
inner arrangements fitted up according to Burmese ideas of comfort,
or it may be, luxury. The measurement of the boat, or rather canoe,
is three tons, itself so narrow and crank that practice is needed to
move without tilting it over to a dangerous degree; yet on further
experience this became sufficiently easy. The crew comprised six
Burmese, active in body, cheery in disposition, well acquainted with
their particular work; ready to joke and chaff with brother boatmen, as
we glided pleasantly down the stream.
A short halt is made at Shoay Gheen, an important town, at which in
due time we arrive. Here we find the remains of a stockade, held in
considerable strength against our troops by the Burmese in 1825, though
surrendered by them without a struggle in December of that year. There
are two respects in which Shoay Gheen is famous: the one, that from
here direct to Yunnan a trade route extends; the other, that in the
district to which the town gives its name is the chief habitat of that
most dreaded of poisonous snakes, the hamadryad (_Ophiophagus elaps_).
Another day and night and we are at the town of Sitang; its streets
and houses are arranged in regular order, the streets wide, sheltered,
boulevard like, by a row of spreading trees on either side; everywhere
flocks of poultry, large and small, especially of the particular breeds
for which Burmah is famous. On the more prominent points are pagodas,
several undergoing repair and being regilded. Near each is a group of
hideous stucco figures of _nats_;[334] among these, people in attitudes
of devotion, presenting to the images offerings, sprigs of sacred
flowers, jasmine and jonesia (the asoka tree), and other plants.
In the first Burmese War a strong position was taken up by them at
this place. On January 7, 1826, it was unsuccessfully attacked by our
forces, who sustained severe loss, including their commander; on the
11th, however, the attack was renewed, the position captured, with
a loss to the enemy of six hundred in a strength of four thousand
defenders. In 1852, after peace had been declared, a British detachment
was stationed here, and so remained for some time.
Time presses; tide waits for no man. Our boatmen, aware of the latter
fact, press on by means of sail and paddle throughout the night; we
arrive at Kadouk soon after daylight. Considerably to our surprise, our
boats are quickly turned from the main stream into a narrow creek, and
there made fast. But the detention is only for a little; our boatmen
resume their work; our boats re-enter the stream, and for a time keep
close to the right bank. A rushing sound comes upon us from the
distance; it increases; the tidal wave of the Sitang is upon us; not in
its full volume, however, for from a point just ahead of us it breaks
with a roar, and then, curling with foam as it advances, it rushes
irresistibly to the opposite bank. It was to avoid this “bore,” for so
the wave is named, and being probably swamped by its force, that our
boatmen had pushed on.
Communication between the Sitang and Pegu rivers was by means of
the Kyatsoo creek, and that only during the three days of spring
tides at the present season of the year. A canal was in progress of
construction, and railways were being extended in various directions;
yet neither was usable for our purpose. One suggestive circumstance,
however, we learn: that, anticipating enhanced value of land as a
result of such works, a precocious native agriculturist is making
extensive purchases along the line of the new waterway. Our passage
along the Kyatsoo creek was marked by nothing more stirring than a
succession of groundings, bumps against other craft, and such trifles.
On either side of us cultivated fields extend away to the distance; on
some of them the blue flower of the flax plant is bright and fresh.
Isolated huts and small villages occur at small distances from each
other, and high up in the azure firmament a lark pours forth its volume
of song, as in our own island.
As we proceed, the tapering summits of pagodas are seen reflecting the
sunlight ahead; they indicate the site of the once important city of
Pegu, capital of the Talain kingdom. A little further and we experience
the tide as it comes from the river so named, to meet that from the
Sitang, by which so far we have been conveyed. A little more and we are
back in Rangoon, the members of our small party hospitably received by
newly-made friends, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson kindly taking me to their
house.
The next few days were passed mostly in the performance of official
duties, spare intervals being taken up in visiting places of interest
previously passed over from want of time. Our journey and observations
made during it supplied subject alike for official and for ordinary
talk, giving zest to forecasts variously expressed in regard to the
probable issue of events which may follow upon the death or deposition
of the king. The prevailing view was that Government will place
upon the throne the legitimate heir, and having done so will carry
on administration by means of a Commission. In such an event, it is
anticipated that Burmah will be one of the best fields for British
energy and capital, that communication will be opened up, and resources
of the country developed.