CHAPTER IV

MANDALAY

Soon after my arrival in Mandalay I made the Thathanabaing's acquaintance. He is the head of the Buddhist monks, the religious order which in Bishop Bigandet's words is "The greatest in its extent and diffusion, the most extraordinary and perfect in its fabric and constituent parts, and the wisest in its rules and prescriptions that has ever existed either in ancient or modern times outside the pale of Christianity."[9] The Thathanabaing is the head of this order for purposes of discipline and for settling doctrinal disputes. His title means that he has power over all religious matters. It is misleading to speak of him as an archbishop or to apply any of the titles of the Christian Church to the Buddhist monks, who are not priests in any sense, but "are the strict followers of Buddha, who, like him, have renounced the world to devote themselves to the twofold object of mastering their passions and acquiring the true wisdom which alone can lead to the deliverance."[10] "The regulations they are subject to and the object they have in view in entering the religious profession debar them from concerning themselves in affairs that are foreign to their calling."[11]

The great mass of the Pongyis, or monks, in Upper Burma, who may have numbered in 1887 twenty or thirty thousand persons, obeyed the rules of their order and took no part in the troubles that followed the annexation. In the King's time the Thathanabaing neither personally nor as representative of the order interfered in affairs of State. He might have, as a work of mercy, pleaded for the remission of a sentence, but it is doubtful whether he went beyond that, or whether he had any political influence in our sense of the word. As a "religious" he would have, and was bound to have, no concern with mundane affairs. Could he bring any influence to bear on the people at large to induce them to submit peacefully to our rule?

"When we speak," writes Bishop Bigandet,[12] "of the great influence possessed by the religious order of Buddhist monks we do not intend to speak of political influence. It does not appear that in Burma they have ever aimed at any share in the management or direction of the affairs of the country. Since the accession of the house of Alomphra to the throne, that is to say, during a period of above a hundred years, the history of Burma has been tolerably well known. We do not recollect having ever met with one instance when the Pongyis, as a body, have interfered in the affairs of State. But in a religious point of view," continues Bishop Bigandet, "their influence is a mighty one." And undoubtedly if they were an energetic, ambitious, and intellectual body, instead of a thoroughly lazy and densely ignorant set of men, they might easily direct this influence to worldly purposes, and they might have excited the people to resist the British.

One of my first acts at Mandalay was to issue orders for the repair of monasteries occupied by our men and for making compensation in some form to the monks, and at least twice afterwards I reiterated and enlarged these orders. No doubt this matter of the monasteries was a grievance. But, as often happens, it was made more of by busybodies and correspondents interested in defaming the administration than by the sufferers. It was an unfortunate necessity of war. The only remedy was to build barracks and reduce the garrison, both of which were done with all the speed possible. It is worth noting that the Thathanabaing did not make any complaint to me on this head. In his conversations with me he dwelt mainly on the sufferings caused to the monks by the removal of the inhabitants from the walled city, which was being converted into a cantonment. The monks living in the cluster of great _Kyaungs_ (monasteries), of which the Incomparable was the centre, depended on the faithful in the city for their food. I reminded him of the removal of the people by their own monarchs, first from Ava to Amarapura and then from Amarapura to Mandalay. He replied that the King removed the _kyaungs_ with the people, and put them up on the new sites at the public cost, and also compelled his Ministers to build new monasteries. He was amused by my suggesting that the Commissioner and the secretary who accompanied me should be ordered to erect some monasteries on the sites to which the people were being moved. He saw the humour of it.

I found the Thathanabaing in my intercourse with him always courteous and good-humoured; and in his bearing there was neither arrogance nor ill-will. Of the Pongyis generally in Upper Burma I saw something, as in riding about the districts (there were no motors or tents for Chief Commissioners in those days) we had generally to ask the Pongyis to give us shelter; and their manner was courteous and hospitable. Not a few, I thought, felt and deplored the misery which the disturbances caused, and would have been glad to work for peace. It must be remembered that from the experience of our rule in Lower Burma they knew the attitude of the British Government towards their religion. They had no reason to fear oppression or persecution. They knew at the same time that in losing a Buddhist King their position and influence must be lowered. They could hardly be asked to rejoice with us.

In common with others who know Burma better, I doubt if the religious orders as a body had much influence on the course of events, or took an active part in the resistance to us. When a monk became a noted leader, it was a patriot who had been a monk and not a monk who had become a patriot. At the same time some of the most serious and deepest-laid plots were hatched in monasteries or initiated by Pongyis.

I may give some instances of the conduct and feelings of Pongyis.

In August, 1887, a pretender calling himself the Pakan Prince joined a conspiracy to get up a rebellion in Mandalay. The police detected the movement and the prince was arrested. The prince told all that he knew. The originator of the scheme was a Sadaw or Abbot living in one of the Thathanabaing's monasteries. He made his escape. I sent for the Thathanabaing and he consented readily at my request to cite the Sadaw to appear before him and to proclaim him as a man with whom Pongyis should not associate. Whether he was sincere or not, I cannot say. But he issued the injunction and I took care it was widely published. Another case shows how the people as well as the Pongyis were coming to regard us. The town of Tabayin in the Ye-u (now Shwèbo) district was burnt by insurgents soon after our occupation of Mandalay. It was rebuilt in 1887 owing to the exertions of certain Pongyis formerly attached to the place. In order to ensure protection for the new town the Pongyis induced the people to build a barrack at their own expense for the police. Similarly, in July, 1887, when I was at Ngathaingyaung in the Bassein district of Lower Burma the people were glad to have a detachment of Bengal Infantry (7th Regiment) in one of the monasteries. They welcomed them. One of the monks had learned Hindustani from the men; and the Abbot, or head Pongyi, told me he would gladly give up his own monastery if it was wanted for the soldiers.

Another matter which occupied my attention in Mandalay at this time was our position towards the Chinese in Upper Burma. They are most numerous in the Northern Division and congregate in Bhamo and Mandalay. They numbered according to the census of 1901 about ten thousand, and may have been less in 1887. Owing to their energy in trade and their wealth they formed a not insignificant body, and like most bodies they had their grievances.

It was arranged to hold a meeting in order to let them state their complaints. All the prominent Chinese in Mandalay attended the meeting, and Mr. Warry was present to interpret for me. They had minor grievances about the collection of the jade duties and the farm of the india-rubber tax in the Mogaung subdivisions. These things were easily arranged. The chief subject of complaint, however, was the difficulty in procuring and trading in opium, a matter not to be easily settled. The regulations issued by the Chief Commissioner in March, 1886, practically stopped the traffic. The words were these:--

"No shops whatever will be licensed for the sale of opium, inasmuch as all respectable classes of Burmans are against legalizing the consumption of opium in the new province. Any one found selling opium to persons other than Chinese, or transporting opium in quantities above three tolahs, or keeping a saloon for consuming opium, will be liable on conviction to a fine not exceeding Rs. 500 or to three months' imprisonment, or to both. As traffic in opium was absolutely prohibited under the Burmese Government, there will be no hardship in thus proscribing opium dealings."

The Chinese, however, considered it the greatest hardship. The small quantity, little more than one ounce troy weight, which might be lawfully transported, practically stopped dealings in the drug. This provision may not seem to go beyond the regulations of the Burmese Government. But there was all the difference between a rule meant to be enforced and one that could be easily evaded or was not intended to be made effective. No doubt the prohibition by the King of the use of opium by Burmans was real, and was backed by religious precept and influence; but the restrictions on the Chinese were laxly administered and were not too inconvenient to them.

If the Burmese alone had been concerned, opium might have been prohibited altogether, and the prohibition might have been made effectual, for it would have been backed by a very strong religious sanction. But the Chinamen had to be considered. It was contrary to our interests and wishes, especially at that time, in Upper Burma to make things unpleasant for them. They are at all times a useful and enterprising element in the population, although the ingenuity of the least reputable amongst them in exploiting the Burmans and leading them to gamble and to smoke opium requires to be firmly checked.

A second objection to prohibition, and even greater than the hardship and annoyance it would cause to the Chinese, was the great difficulty--almost impossibility, it may be said--of enforcing it.

Opium is perhaps as easy, and in Burma as profitable, to smuggle as any article in the world. The Chinese are born smugglers. The poppy is largely cultivated in Yunnan and in the hilly country on the Salween. To prevent smuggling of opium overland into Burma would require a very large expenditure and a numerous establishment. The thousand miles of coast would be equally difficult to watch. If the growth of the poppy is prevented in China and India it may perhaps become practicable to stop opium from entering Burma. It was futile at that time and under those circumstances to attempt absolute prohibition.

The Indian Excise and Opium Acts were extended to Upper Burma in the latter half of 1888. The restrictions on the sale to Burmans of opium and intoxicants were maintained--and neither excise licence nor opium-shop was allowed in any place where the non-Burman population was not considerable. Yunnan opium, which had hitherto come in free, was subjected to a duty. The result was a great increase in the price of opium in Upper Burma and at the same time energetic smuggling; while it was believed, that so far as the restrictions against the sale of liquor or opium to Burmans were effectual, their efficacy was due, as in the King's time, more to the strength of the Buddhist religion than to the power of the British Government and the honesty of its magistrates. No further change was introduced while I was in Burma.

An excitement, however, arose in England, and the societies who, belonging to one of the most intemperate races in the world, make it their vocation to preach temperance to the most abstemious and sober of nations, drove the Government of India to experiment on Burma. Since 1893 one device after another has been tried to prevent Burmans from getting opium. The results appear to have been that contraband opium has been driven to some extent from the market; that the consumption of Government opium which has paid duty has doubled; that hundreds of people are punished yearly, not a few on false charges, for offences against the Opium Act, many of them by imprisonment; that the use of cocaine and other drugs worse than opium has been substituted for it, and in spite of the police is growing.

The following passage from a very excellent and accurate handbook of Burma by Sir J. George Scott, K.C.I.E. (Alexander Moring, Ltd., 1906) is worth quoting as the opinion of a man who knows the country well:--

"In Kokang and the Wa States the out-turn (of opium) runs to tons. West of the Salween, Loimaw is the only place where opium is systematically grown for profit. The cultivators are all Chinamen, and the amount produced in the season reaches about four thousand pounds. The price ranges from twelve to fifteen rupees for three and a half pounds. No doubt a very great deal is smuggled into Burma by opium-roads--tracks only passable by coolies, and not known to many. It is to be noted that there are no victims to opium in the opium-producing districts, any more than there are in Ssu-ch'uan, where the people are the wealthiest in China and half the crops are poppy. It is only in places where opium is prohibitive in price that there are victims to opium. If a man is accustomed to take opium, he must have it to soothe his nerves under excessive fatigue; if he lives in a malarious district, it is necessary to kill the bacteria. When such a man is poor and comes to a place where opium duty is high, he has to starve himself to get the anodyne for his muscles, quivering under the weight of loads which no white man could carry, or to soothe the racking fever in his bones. He dies of want and opium is denounced. Where opium is cheap, the people are healthy and stalwart and the women are fruitful. East of the Salween the universal opinion of opium is that of the Turk, who stamps on his opium lozenges _Mash Alla'h_, 'the gift of God.' Some of the Wa eat as well as smoke opium; but, so far as is known, regular opium-eating is rare, and none of the races drink it in the form of an emulsion, like the _Kusumba_ of the Rajputs. West of the Salween, the European cant about opium has penetrated. A Shan either tells deliberate lies or says he only smokes when he has fever. The Rumai is pious and hypocritical, and says his opium is intended for his ponies or for cases of malarial fever. There are, of course, cases of excess, but the opium victim is never the hideous spectacle of the man sodden with alcohol or the repulsive bestiality that the man becomes who takes food to excess" (pp. 268-69).

The only laws that will preserve the Burmans from the evils of opium and alcohol and other drugs are the teachings of Buddha. So long as they preserve their vigour and command the Burmans' belief, there is not much fear. The danger is that Buddhism will be undermined by Western education and contact with Europe, before it can be replaced by a better and stronger faith. The number of young Burmans coming to England is increasing. Will they return as abstemious and as temperate as they came? They will not: the danger to the Burman is probably more from alcohol than from opium, and more from contact with the West than with China.[13]

This question, however, had no influence whatever on the work we were engaged in. I was able to reassure the Chinese and to make them feel that the Government desired to treat them with fairness and consideration. The Chinese in Burma behaved throughout these stormy years as loyal citizens. There were at first numerous reports of hostile gatherings on or near the Chinese frontier, especially in the north of Hsenwi and at Hpunkan, near Bhamo. They had little foundation in fact. The only case in which it is certain that an armed body of Chinese entered Burma was in January, 1889. A strong body of Chinamen, chiefly deserters from the Chinese army and outlaws, gathered on the Molè stream north-east of Bhamo. They were promptly attacked by the police and so severely handled that they were not heard of again.

Still less influence on the restoration of order had the Ruby Mines affair, which excited the British public and enabled parliamentary busybodies to create an absurd fuss. The whole question of these mines and their administration might well have waited until we had pacified the country. Even as a source of revenue they were of no great moment, and if we had left the native miners alone we should have saved the heavy expense of maintaining a strong force up in the hills and making a long and costly cart-road from the river. Mogok, the headquarters of the mines, lies nearly six thousand feet above the sea-level, and is distant sixty miles by road from the river port of Thabeikkyin, most of it lying through thick jungle, poisoned with malaria and, in 1887, infested with dacoits.

The mines were then worked by the Shans, who live on the spot and have hereditary rights. A proposal had been made by Sir Charles Bernard, and supported by the Government of India, to give a lease of the mines for three years to Messrs. Gillanders Arbuthnot, of Calcutta, at an annual rent of two lakhs of rupees, the equivalent then of about £14,000. This firm had been accustomed to trade in rubies with the Shans at Mogok. The proposal was judicious, and would have enabled the Government to learn the value of the mines before committing themselves for a longer term, as the firm's books were to be open to inspection.

This proposal, however, did not meet the views of the gentlemen who had marked down the ruby mines as a field of speculation. A parliamentary intrigue was got up. Questions were asked--jobs were hinted at. The enormous value of the mines--the richest ruby mines in the world--was talked about, until the British public began to see rubies and to suspect, I verily believe, Sir Charles Bernard and all of us, his official heirs and successors, of desiring to make dishonest fortunes. Some of the speculators went to Simla to persuade the Government of India that Gillanders Arbuthnot's offer was inconceivably ridiculous. Then they came on to Rangoon with letters of introduction, not unaccompanied by hints and warnings to be careful, to sniff about the mines and get the ear of the authorities in Burma. The Secretary of State trembled lest he should be suspected of favouring somebody; and if I had destroyed Mandalay or drained the Irrawaddy, I doubt if there would have been more disturbance than was caused by the grant to one of the prospectors of a few yards of worthless land at Mogok on which to erect a hut, and of an ordinary licence to mine.

Eventually an expert was sent out to inspect and value the mines. The gentleman deputed to this duty was no doubt a skilled mineralogist, even if he was without previous experience in ruby mines. It is possible that his report was worth the cost. It was, I take it, a means of getting out of a parliamentary difficulty. It served the Secretary of State for India as an excuse for delay, and gave the appearance at least of a searching and impartial investigation.

Late in 1889 a concession for seven years was granted to five lucky promoters; and then the course usual in such cases was followed. A company was floated in London under the auspices of a big financier. The success for the concessionaires was unexampled. The public, especially the small investors, in an enthusiasm of greed, tumbled over each other to secure shares. In November, 1889, the company began to work. Its history since has not been one of remarkable prosperity either for the Government or the shareholders. The terms have been revised several times. The receipts of the Government from the company in 1903-4 were Rs. 2,11,500, or £14,000.

The history of this matter is interesting only as an example of the futility of interfering with the Government of India in local matters. To the administration of Burma it meant more writing, more labour, more anxiety, when attention was needed elsewhere. When a man's house is on fire he does not want to spend time in polishing the handle of his door. I was compelled to keep at Mogok better men and a stronger force than the district needed. For some years there was much disturbance in the neighbouring country. But it was unconnected with the mines.

It is a defect in parliamentary government that so many members, avoiding the really important matters, fasten greedily on lesser questions, especially those which promise a scandal. As Parliament chose to look at this matter as one of imperial interest, the mines acquired an importance out of all proportion to their value. I found the ruby mines was a burning question, and I had to go there without delay. I left Mandalay on the 29th of March in a steamer for Kyannyat, which was then the river station for Bernard Myo and Mogok, with Mr. Herbert White and my private secretary. We rode the forty miles from the river to Sagadaung, the halting-place at the foot of the hills, taking as we went an escort of five mounted men (Gurkhas) from the military posts on the road, and stopped there for the night. From Sagadoung a mule-path (twenty miles) took us to Bernard Myo, where I halted, and next day rode into Mogok.

The regulations and conditions under which it was proposed to allow the mines to be worked were explained to the native mineowners and to the persons present on behalf of the applicants for the concession, and the way was cleared for a settlement.

A matter of more importance, although not one in which Parliament was interested, was the dispute about Möngmit and Mohlaing (explained in