_BURMESE HOME LIFE._
The Countess of Dufferin’s fund for the training of female nurses
in midwifery, for the benefit of women in the East, is nowhere more
sorely needed than it is in Burma, for there are among the Burmans,
in connection with that critical period, usages that render some more
enlightened method of treatment urgently to be desired. Immediately on
the birth of the child, it is the earnest endeavour of those in charge
to place the mother as near as possible to a very large fire. Hot bricks
are applied, rugs and blankets are piled upon her, irrespective of the
state of the weather, in a country where for two months of the year the
thermometer stands at 110° in the shade of the verandah. This continues
for seven days, and is with a view to dispel the noxious humours supposed
to be generated. This treatment, in addition to the drinking of much
medicine at the same time, renders that crisis of life more than usually
hazardous to the mother.
[Illustration: “EVERY BURMAN YOUTH, AS HE GROWS UP, IS TATTOOED FROM THE
WAIST TO THE KNEES.”]
The boy goes to the monastery school as soon as he is able to learn, and
is there taught to read and write, and is initiated into the teachings of
Buddhism. He learns the five universal commandments, the five subsidiary
rules, and the Pali formulæ used at the pagoda worship. At the monastery
he is made familiar, at the most susceptible period of his life, with
the routine of the life of the monks, learning, amongst other things,
idleness as a fine art, and he is taught to look upon the condition of
the monk as the holiest man can attain in this life. If I were asked
which I considered the strongest point Buddhism holds in the midst of the
Burmese people, I should at once lay my finger on this—_the influence
of the monastery school on the boys_. There can be no doubt that before
any great inroads can be made upon Buddhism—before Christianity can
have a fair chance of success—the missionary will have to enter into
an honourable competition with the monastery schools. These are days
of competition. He will have to provide a better and a wider system of
vernacular elementary education than the people can get at present, and
by providing a better article, he can attract the people to him. Let him
fearlessly permeate the teaching through and through with _Christian
truth_ (not anti-Buddhism), and he will find that will not lessen, but
increase, his popularity. In all Oriental lands the heathen instruction
of the indigenous schools is a hindrance to Christianity, but I know of
no country where it is more so than in Burma.
Every Burman youth, as he grows up, is tattooed from the waist to the
knees.[2] It is considered an indispensable token of manliness for the
thighs to be completely covered with various figures of birds, animals,
scrolls and letters. This tattooing would be too painful if done all
at once. It is done little by little. Besides this universal method of
tattooing, other styles are followed. Sometimes the chest is covered with
cabalistic squares and symbols in vermilion, in connection with which
many foolish superstitions are entertained. The Burmans have a great
notion of some kinds of tattooing as special preservatives against wounds
from bullets and sword cuts, and as a means of warding off the evils,
and securing the advantages, of life. There was a great deal of this in
the troublous times through which we passed after the annexation, and
until the country settled down. Many of the dacoit leaders made use of
this method to increase the confidence of their followers, by making them
invulnerable; but not a few who put their trust in this defence found
themselves mistaken.
Then there are talismans specially used by Burman dacoits, consisting of
charmed or consecrated objects, inserted under their skin, and embedded
permanently between the skin and the flesh. Many famed dacoits have long
rows of them on their chests.
It is a sign of the ability of this people to take up new ideas, that
the Burman tattooers have lately taken to pushing business amongst the
English soldiers, who, as a class, are very fond of being decorated in
this way. For this purpose these artists have had the tact to leave the
patterns fashionable amongst their own countrymen, and have taken to
imitating English pictures, devices and emblems. Many a “time-expired”
soldier who has served in Burma, now in England, is able to show these
decorations (?) on his arms and chest in more than one colour.
The Burmans are a nation of smokers. The children begin at a very tender
age, and are not checked. Men, women and children smoke; the most
dignified of matrons and the smartest of young damsels not only smoke,
but prefer to have their portraits taken cheroot in hand. The Burman can
never bring himself to look upon his cigar as out of place, even in the
most august presence; it seems a part of himself. If he should drop in to
a Christian service he will light up, if you will allow him, as he sits
to hear the address.
The staple food of the Burmans is boiled rice, and curry made of
vegetables stewed, with the addition of condiments, and meat or fish,
if they can get it. Though they are very scrupulous themselves about
taking any animal life, they are not at all averse to animal food. Did
not the Buddha eat flesh? His last illness is said to have been caused,
in extreme age, by a meal of pork, which disagreed with him. The Burmans
are coarse feeders. They will readily eat that which has died of itself.
We had direct evidence of that one day, when two of us were travelling,
and arrived in the evening at a village. A military convoy of elephants,
mules and ponies carrying stores, had that day passed through the
village, and one of the ponies had died there, and was lying by the
roadside. Next day we met the people carrying portions of the flesh, and
on inquiry, they told us it was that same pony, and that they were going
to eat it. On our return the whole of it was cleared away. Even snakes
and lizards do not come amiss to them.
[Illustration: “THE MOST DIGNIFIED OF MATRONS AND THE SMARTEST OF YOUNG
DAMSELS NOT ONLY SMOKE, BUT PREFER TO HAVE THEIR PORTRAITS TAKEN CHEROOT
IN HAND.”]
They are exceedingly fond of a condiment of fish paste called _ngapee_.
This is fish dried a little in the sun, salted, and then mashed to a
pulp. As the fish for _ngapee_ is not properly cured, the effluvium
emitted from it is particularly obnoxious, and can be detected a very
long way off. The smell might be described as strong, pungent, high; but
none of these adjectives serves properly to characterise it. Having never
ventured to eat any I cannot describe the taste. Yet this fish paste is
so liked by the Burmans that a meal is hardly complete without it. It
gives the food a relish.
The Burmans clothe themselves in very bright colours, and in good taste
as regards the harmony of the colours. A good deal of what they wear,
both silk and cotton cloth, is locally manufactured. The weavers and
dyers have some exquisite shades of pink, of red, of primrose, of navy
blue, and other colours. They spend more on dress than the natives of
India, and less on jewellery. Many of the people wear silk. The women
dress their fine, luxuriant jet-black hair very tastefully. It is combed
up from all sides very neatly, and made into a coil on the crown of the
head. They wear no headdress but a bunch or wreath of flowers. That
the Burmans cannot be considered an uncivilised race is clear from the
perfect familiarity of their ladies with the mystery of the chignon, and
with the manufacture and use of cosmetics for the improvement of the
complexion, to say nothing of scents and artificial flowers, also locally
made.
The Burmans have some taste, too, in music. They have a fair ear, pick up
English tunes without difficulty, and sing them sweetly. Their musical
instruments are primitive, and not very elaborate. They have a kind
of pipe or clarionet, also a kind of trumpet; but they are greatest
in drums. A performer on the drums will have around him in a circle
something like a dozen, of different sizes, and varying in pitch, so that
he can almost play a tune on them. For private instrumental solos they
have a kind of dulcimer, made of strips of bamboo, which is wonderfully
musical and rich in tone, especially considering the material it is made
from. It seems strange that the Karens should so excel their neighbours,
the other races of Burma, in the capacity for music, especially when
we consider that civilisation came to the Karens so late. The relative
aptitude for music amongst the different races of the earth, from all one
can learn, seems to hinge on something other than the mere extent of the
civilisation attained. What does it depend upon?
The Burman artists paint a good many pictures, judging by the great
numbers offered for sale and hawked round. The pictures are mostly palace
scenes, with kings and queens seated stiffly in state, receiving company,
with courtiers standing round, and soldiers posted here and there.
Latterly, Thomas Atkins, of the British Infantry, has been the approved
type of the soldiery; perhaps with a view to a better sale for the
pictures. The artists are adventurous, and willing to attempt anything,
and they do not spare the colours, but the pictures are very stiff and
the perspective is bad.
The frescoes at the Arakan pagoda in Mandalay, representing the eight
hells of Buddhism, are for many reasons a curious study. Those pictures
are more of a success from the standpoint of dogmatic theology than from
that of high art. The scenes depicted are realistic and definite beyond
any manner of doubt. The artist, one would think, had made up his mind
to be very “faithful” with us, and to shrink not from depicting what he
considered the truth on the subject. Human beings are there seen writhing
in torturing fire, fixed on thorns, torn by dogs, dragged by black
monsters in human form, thrown by them into torments with pitchforks,
or starving by inches, with every bone in their bodies showing, and
with faces of unutterable woe. One wretch is represented attempting to
climb a tree, his brains being picked out by a bird from above, and
his feet being torn off by dogs from beneath; another is seated on the
ground, while two men are sawing him in halves, right through the head
downwards, the blood all the while flowing in gallons! In one instance,
the head, having been entirely severed from the body, is looking on in
consternation at the rest of the body being chopped up.
In the matter of sculpture, the numerous marble images of Gautama
(Buddha) show considerable ability in execution, especially in the faces,
which show regularity of features and true likeness to the human face,
as well as the correct expression of calm meditation appropriate to the
Buddha; but there is much room for improvement in the general design, and
for accuracy and variety in the various details. But we must remember
that the sculptor of a Gautama is bound down by conventional canons of
taste as to the postures, and as to the expression of the face, which he
may not depart from.
In wood-carving, where there is scope for taste and fancy, we get from
the Burman really wonderful results. There is nothing in which they
excel more than in this, whether it be in the way of small delicate work
in picture frames, brackets, and other articles of small and beautiful
workmanship, or in the numerous elaborate adornments of the monastery
buildings. Many of the more noted monasteries are quite a study of
sumptuous carving in teak wood, the whole building in many cases being
one mass of scrolls and decorations, with many well-executed figures
of men, cattle, horses and supernatural creatures. In the case of some
monasteries whole histories are depicted in the carvings.
Marriage amongst the Burmans is not a very close bond. It is a civil
institution, and altogether non-religious, and divorce for trifling
causes is common and easy. I know a well-to-do couple who had been
married for some years, and lived happily; but at length a difference
of opinion unfortunately arose between them, and a quarrel ensued about
a mere trifle, affecting the expenditure of a sum not more than a
shilling, and after the quarrel they calmly agreed to separate, on the
ground of incompatibility of dispositions. Many a man has had several
wives, one after another, and parted with them successively. In case of
the dissolution of a marriage, the woman retains whatever property she
possessed before marriage, together with what she may have gained by her
own separate exertions, or inherited.
Polygamy is sanctioned by usage, but is not very common, as it is
costly; concubinage is by no means uncommon. The wealthy, such as
ministers of state and men in high position, usually kept more than one
wife. The king was the worst offender in this respect, for he set a
very bad example. King Mindohn, the last king but one, had fifty-three
recognised wives, of whom thirty-seven survived him, besides numerous
concubines; and he had one hundred and ten children, of whom fifty
survived him. He himself, however, in conversation with the English
envoy, deplored this bad custom, as productive of much intrigue,
revolution and bloodshed in the palace. There was sad confirmation of
this after his death, in the two fearful massacres during the reign of
King Theebaw, that cut off nearly all the surviving members of the royal
family, besides many other innocent persons.
One very peculiar and unseemly custom was for the reigning monarch to
espouse, as his principal queen, one of the royal princesses, who was
therefore his half-sister. It is undoubtedly a blessing for Burma that
such a rule, so hopelessly corrupt and demoralising to the nation, so
incompetent to keep order, and so determinedly Oriental, conservative and
out of date, has become a thing of the past.
The position of woman in Burma, notwithstanding the blemishes on their
social system, is not nearly so down-trodden and degraded as in most
Eastern countries. This undoubtedly arises from the fact that there are
no zenanas among the Burmans, no keeping of women shut up. They are as
free to come and go, and take part in the business of life, as women are
in England, and they avail themselves of their liberty, and take a very
considerable share in the business that is done. In money matters in the
family they have always enjoyed an equality with the other sex, which
was only of late years accorded to women in England; that is, the power
to retain in their own right for themselves and their heirs the property
they possessed before, or gained after, marriage. As the women, as a
general rule in Burma, are far more industrious than the men, and quite
as shrewd and business-like, this tends towards maintaining a healthy
sense of equality with the other sex. If a man has a managing wife who
can run a stall in the market, or greatly assist in supporting the family
by keeping a shop at home, as is very often the case, the husband will
think twice before he leaves her, or provokes her to leave him. The wife
and mother sits by, and gives her opinion on things in general, in the
family conclave, and hen-pecked husbands are not unknown in Burma.
[Illustration: “MANY OF THE MORE NOTED MONASTERIES ARE QUITE A STUDY OF
SUMPTUOUS CARVING IN TEAK WOOD.”]
The Burmans are very fond of games. They have an excellent game of
football which they very often play, but it is a very different thing
from the rough game known in England by that name. English football is
too violent an exercise for that climate. It is more on the principle
of shuttlecock. Six or eight young men stand around in a circle, with
their garments tucked up so as not to impede their movements. A light,
hollow wickerwork ball is started by one of them, and the object of the
game is to keep it going as long as possible. They must not touch the
ball with the hand, but they show great skill and activity in catching
it with the foot, either side of the ankle, the heel, the toe, the knee,
the shoulder. It is a clever stroke to leap up two or three feet into the
air, and meet and kick the ball with the heel, as it is descending; one
still more difficult is to leap up, catch the ball between the feet, and
jerk it up again into the air before reaching the ground. Each player
takes the ball when it is tossed over into his vicinity, and he may keep
it going any number of times, before kicking it off across to the other
side of the circle. Few games are better calculated to exercise the limbs
and render the young men strong on their feet than this.
Boat-racing is another very favourite national amusement. In the racing
boats are many rowers, with short paddles, and the races are scenes of
wild excitement, both on the part of the competitors and spectators.
There is a good deal of betting in connection with these races. The
gambling spirit easily takes hold of the Burmans. All games of chance
have a great fascination with this excitable, volatile people, and they
fall an easy prey to the low, cunning Chinaman, who makes it his business
to introduce gambling into the village, and to profit by it.
The Burmans are also exceedingly fond of the drama. For every conceivable
event that can by any ingenuity be made a special occasion, there must
be what is called a _pwè_. I have known a _pwè_ in honour of a birth,
and I have known one given to celebrate a death—the execution of a noted
dacoit leader, who had been a great curse to the neighbourhood, and had
long defied justice—and for almost any occasion occupying an intermediate
position between the two, one of these dramatic performances would not
be out of place. There are no permanent buildings used as theatres. The
performance takes place in the open street. The temporary erection used
as the stage is constructed of the useful and indispensable bamboo. It
is set up in the street, and extends frequently halfway across it. The
rest of the thoroughfare is blocked up with the couches the spectators
bring from their homes to sit upon; and traffic is almost suspended in
that direction for the time being. All this preparation takes place
during the day. The play begins after dark, and goes on until towards
sunrise. Temporary stalls for the sale of food are set up at the edge of
the crowd, and the people by hundreds make a night of it. The dramas are
founded on tales which Gautama (Buddha) told of his five hundred and ten
previous existences, or on events in the lives of kings and heroes. The
dialogue is chiefly recitative, interspersed with solos, choruses and
dancing. Instrumental music accompanies the singing. There is always the
clown or jester on these occasions, who has his turn in the course of the
performance, and roars of laughter greet the broad jokes he furnishes.
The whole performance is free. The custom is for some person to hire the
players, and bear the expense of the entertainment, inviting his friends,
and throwing it open to all. Pickled tea is handed round among the
guests on these occasions as a kind of dessert, mixed with salt, garlic,
assafœtida and a few grains of millet seed. It has an anti-soporific
effect, and so serves to keep them awake, to listen to the drama.
The Burman is a firm believer in amusement, in relaxation, in holidays.
He sees no good in a too strenuous and incessant application to the
serious business of life. He likes to take life easily, and to see plenty
of change. Even his religious duties usually blend amusement with the
seeking after merit. The numerous festivals and religious observances
serve for frequent holidays, and whatever he may fancy in the way of
diversion. The Burman is indolent, casual, unstable and uncertain,
and not to be depended upon. He does not readily conform to discipline
or restraint, and it is found very difficult to make a soldier or a
policeman of him. It is difficult to get him into a routine of any kind.
He makes a very indifferent servant. In Burma the British Government
cannot depend upon Burmans in the constitution of the police force, but
finds it necessary to man the greater part of the police ranks with
natives of India, enlisted chiefly from among the fighting races of the
Punjab.
In mitigation of the indictment against the Burman that he is loose,
careless and lazy, it is urged that he is fettered by the multiplicity of
lucky and unlucky days, and various astrological difficulties, which we
do not appreciate. But when every allowance is made for these things, it
must be found a true bill against him. This _is_ one of the weak points
in his character.
Even in school life this feature of the national character abundantly
manifests itself. The boys, instead of keeping to one school, are fond of
attending school after school, changing from one to another, until they
have gone the round of all within their reach, when they will start to go
the round again. One might almost suppose they thought there was a school
where they could learn by magic, and that they were in search of that
school. Such a crying evil has this become in Burma, that stringent rules
have had to be framed by the Department of Public Instruction to check
this incessant migration.
If the Burman has the faults of a careless, happy-go-lucky race, he
has the virtues also. He has been called the Irishman of the East. His
manners have the ease and the polish of a “gentleman born.” He is most
affable and approachable, and in religion tolerant of the opinions of
others. He is hospitable, and will help the destitute stranger without
making too many inquiries. I met one day in Mandalay an English sailor,
who had made his way up from Rangoon with another man. They had done the
last two hundred miles on foot. They were both quite destitute, and yet
they had travelled all that distance, for the most part of it far from
any Englishman, and that, too, when the country was in a most disturbed
state on account of dacoits, and without knowing a word of Burmese. They
had simply passed on from village to village, their wants being supplied
by the Burmans where they halted. That this should have been possible
speaks well for the kind-hearted hospitality of the Burmans.
If it is one of the marks of a gentleman to be able in an easy and
natural manner to place himself on a level with you, the Burman has this
in a high degree. The native of India makes a twofold mistake here. His
outlandish notions of etiquette lead him to cringe and crouch before
the European, to an extent which is sometimes offensive, whilst at the
same time his caste leads him in his heart of hearts to hold himself
immeasurably above him. The Burman makes neither of these mistakes. With
fine tact he steers a medium course, and ranges himself alongside.
The first Burmese servant I had, a typical Burman, was a fine
illustration of this capacity of the race to “make themselves at home”
with the foreigner. He did me the honour to take a fancy to my tooth
brush. I was not aware of it. He did not purloin it, he only made use of
it. The way it came to light was the discovery of him one day, standing
before the looking-glass, in the act of using the implement in the
orthodox manner. How long the two of us had been using the tooth brush
conjointly I cannot say, for I never cared to inquire. I preferred to
think it was only that once! He had it to himself ever after.
A story is told that aptly illustrates that buoyancy of temperament which
constitutes one feature of the Burmese easy-going character. Some years
ago a fire occurred in Mandalay—no uncommon thing. Amongst the bamboo
houses it spread with terrible swiftness, until a large number were
destroyed. Yet the very next evening they were observed to have rigged
up a rude stage among the charred stumps of their house posts, and they
spent the night in witnessing one of their dramatic performances, and
laughing heartily as usual at the jests of the clown. Few people would
have had the heart to go through with that _pwè_ under the circumstances.
With a rich country, a sparse population, and a warm climate, the
conditions of life are easy. The Burman has no struggle to get a living.
Riches have little attraction for him. He has no desire to hoard. What he
has to spare he spends, either in building a monastery, or a pagoda, or
on some humbler work of merit which shall secure him an advantage in the
next birth.