CHAPTER III.MANDALAY IN 1887.

It was with feelings of no common interest that we disembarked from the steamer at Mandalay, and took our first glimpse of the place. The bustle of so many passengers disembarking created a very busy scene, and dense clouds of dust arose, so that we were glad to get away as soon as possible. We proceeded to charter one of the conveyances we found there waiting for hire, a peculiar kind of vehicle, resembling in size and appearance a dog kennel set on a pair of high wheels, and it proved a marvel of inconvenience. You climb up with difficulty, thrust yourself through the small aperture as best you can, for it is no easy matter, and then you stow yourself away, sitting down on the floor of the conveyance with your knees about your ears. It is quite impossible to preserve a dignified demeanour in one of these bullock gharries, and yet, sad to relate, it was found that this was the only kind of conveyance available for His Majesty the King, when he was removed from the palace to the river on his way to India.

The matter created quite a difficulty. To have mounted the king on such an occasion on a horse or an elephant would have been cruel mockery. At that time there were no horse gharries in Mandalay. They brought a dhooly first, but the king declined point blank to enter it. The bullock gharry was the best arrangement they could devise.

One of the first things that attracted our attention was the inordinately gorgeous appearance of some things, and the veryprimitive and mean condition of others. This mixture of grandeur and shabbiness is quite an Oriental trait. The royal city and palace, the pagodas and the monasteries, were most sumptuous in style of building and decoration, but everything else looked very poor in comparison. The bamboo houses of the people looked small and frail and cheap. The roads, which we consider amongst the first essentials of civilised life, were as bad as they could be. They were of mere mud, which became dust several inches deep in dry weather, and a quagmire when it rained. The dense clouds of dust that rose wherever there was much traffic formed an experience truly distressing.

Mandalay has been said to be remarkable for three things, Phoongyees, Pagodas and Pariah dogs. The phoongyees are the brethren of the yellow robe, the Buddhist monks, who are to be seen in Mandalay by thousands, and all through the country in like proportion to the population. The pagodas form here as everywhere in Upper Burma a feature in every landscape. The pariah dogs are uncommonly numerous. You might guess at once you were in a Buddhist country from the thousands of homeless, poor, emaciated, mangy creatures, nobody’s dogs, that roam over the city, eating anything they can pick up, the vilest refuse, and acting as the scavengers of the place. They are never on any consideration killed by the Buddhists, but suffered to multiply to any extent. As you walk about you often come upon eight or ten of these dogs at a time, and they seem as if they would tear you to pieces; but though they seem so savage and so numerous they prefer to keep at a safe distance.

Passing through the streets of the town, a drive of about two miles brought us to the moat outside the walls of the royal city. The city is in the form of a square, each face of which is over a mile in extent, and is surrounded by an enormous brick wall twenty-six feet high, many feet in thickness, and with battlements on the top. Outside the city walls is a broad open space of ground all the way round, and outside of that is a deep, broad moat, intended to serve the double purpose of military defence for the city, and of supplying drinking water to the inhabitants.

For the purpose of communicating between the city and thetown outside are five gateways, two on the townward or west side, and one on each of the others, with gates of enormous size and strength. Over each gate is a lofty and handsome tower built of teak wood, and rising to a point. Here and there along the walls at stated intervals, and facing the ends of the streets of the town, which run at right angles to the wall, are smaller towers of similar style, that serve to adorn the great wall of the city, and give it quite a handsome appearance.

At the time I speak of the walled city was inhabited by a large population of Burmans, chiefly people who had been in close connection with the palace; but owing to the decision of Government to make this place the military cantonment, the five thousand houses within the walls have been all cleared out, compensation being paid according to the value, and a very handsome cantonment has been made of it, with barracks for European and Indian troops. As the great majority of the houses were of teak or bamboo, this was not nearly so serious a matter as it might seem. The cantonment is now known by the name of Fort Dufferin.

The royal palace consists of a square enclosure in the centre of the large square city. It was at that time surrounded and defended by a strong stockade of teak logs set on end in the ground, and inside of that, as a second line of defence, was a strong brick wall; but both stockade and wall have since been removed by the British as unnecessary. Passing inside these two defences, the visitor found himself in the spacious grounds of the palace, part of which were prettily laid out as gardens, with artificial canals of water, rockeries and summer houses. Part of this space was devoted to the king’s arsenal; on the eastern side were the treasury and the mint.

In the centre of all, raised on an earthen platform about eight feet high, and pretty well covering an area of perhaps a couple of acres with a miscellaneous and irregular collection of handsome lofty buildings, with much carving in teak, and abundance of the inevitable gold leaf, is the royal palace of the kings of Burma. Some of the buildings are of brick, but the majority are of teak. There is something decidedly impressive, unique and highly interesting about the palace, as a specimen of an Orientalmonarch’s residence, but from a European standpoint it is wanting in unity of design and symmetry of arrangement. The buildings are so huddled together that they lose much of their appearance, and you have to find your way about among these fine buildings by queer narrow little lanes and wooden platforms, and by many sudden and unexpected turns, that to a Western mind take off considerably from the majesty of the place. But then we must remember the character of the Burmese court, notorious for back-stairs influence, corruption, intrigue, conspiracy and the like. That being so, it is only natural that the palace buildings should allow proper facilities for the same, and be in keeping with it.

ONE OF THE GATEWAYS OF THE ROYAL CITY OF MANDALAY

The only approach to anything like the dignity of a palace from our point of view is the front or eastern side, where there is the throne room or audience hall, surmounted with the great spire which rises roof over roof to a considerable height and almost to a point, terminating with the usual gilt umbrella. This was considered to be the centre of the universe by the Burman courtiers, and it is still facetiously called by that name by the English. It was here that the king used to appear on his throne on special occasions. It is said that King Mindohn, the father of King Theebaw, used to gaze at his people from his throne through a pair of binoculars. The people would all be down on their knees in his presence, and not only on their knees, but crouching on their elbows too, for that is the attitude for special reverence in Burma.

There was one point of contention between the English and this very haughty and conceited Court of Burma that never was settled. That was the reception of our envoy. It was not sufficient for them that he observed all the forms of respect known in European etiquette, but they required from him also their own, even to the removal of his boots in the king’s presence. Now an English gentleman does not like to doff his boots in public, and to a military man it would seem particularly outrageous to expect it of him. Hence it was a difficulty. Had King Theebaw accepted instead of rejecting our ultimatum in November 1886, he might have kept his throne and his palace;but the proper reception of the British Resident would have been one of the articles he would have had to agree to.

It was in the great throne room that we held at first our Sunday morning parade services for the troops, the preacher taking his stand just by the foot of the throne: an interesting circumstance, and not without a touch of romance,—the Kingdom of Jesus Christ set up on the final downfall of this antiquated, corrupt and cruel Oriental despotism. But though we may hopefully take this as a figure and prophecy of the triumph yet to come, the fact itself is a political rather than a religious one, and indicates just this, and nothing more—that Britain has conquered Burma, and is now able to do what she likes with Burma’s most sacred and venerated places. We are not for that reason one inch nearer the real spiritual triumph of Jesus Christ in the hearts of the Buddhists of Burma. That work is but just begun.

Some idea of the large extent of the palace buildings may be gathered from the fact that for many months they provided dwellings for the general and his numerous headquarters staff, and for many other officers, besides barracks for an entire battery of artillery, officers and men. In addition to this, quite a number of departments, civil and military, had their offices there, including a postal and telegraph department.

Near the front of the palace is the great tower, now used as a fire look-out station. On the top of this a native sentry is always on the watch, and the moment he sees a fire anywhere, either in the cantonment or in the town, he gives the alarm, and the fire-engines are soon on the spot. This is a matter of no small importance in this great city of 188,000 inhabitants, where the houses are of such a highly inflammable material as bamboo, and where in one year 35 fires occurred, destroying 9 monasteries and 724 houses, of the total value of 310,000 rupees.

Close by the front of the palace was the residence of the famous Lord White Elephant, to whom royal honours were paid. He was regarded as the king of elephants, and therefore none but the king could mount him. His trappings were of the most sumptuous and valuable description—silk and rich cloth, ornamented with gold, rubies and emeralds. All his vessels andutensils were made of gold. None but the king and the white elephant might enjoy the dignity of the white umbrella, for that is the chief emblem of royalty. This august quadruped had his own retinue specially told off to do him service; his attendants and all visitors took off their shoes when they entered his quarters, and the people bowed and did obeisance when he passed through the streets. Not that he was white. No elephant is anything near a white colour; but besides the lighter colour of the animal there are other tests which, according to the Burmese science on the subject, settle the matter of a white elephant; and it is a science of considerable gravity and importance. He must have five toe nails on his hind feet instead of the usual four; and when water is poured upon him, if he is a true albino, he will turn red and not black.

The reason why so much superstitious and absurd reverence was paid to the white elephant was that the possession of an undoubted specimen was supposed to be a sign and symbol of universal sovereignty, so that it was deemed very lucky for the King of Burma to possess one. In the sixteenth century the kingdoms of Pegu and Siam fought over one for many years, till five successive kings and thousands of men were killed, which shows the importance attached to this possession by both nations. How often nations have fought over that which was only a white elephant when they had gained it!

It was a singular coincidence that within a few days of the capture of Mandalay the white elephant died, and was buried with some display, the troops being turned out on the occasion. It was as well he did die, for had he lived he would have been to the English a veritablewhite elephantin the English colloquial sense of that term. We can come quite as near to universal sovereignty as we wish to be, or as is good for us, without the magic aid of a white elephant.

The principal building to the front of the palace, and just within the stockade, is the Hloot Daw, a fine large hall where the four chief ministers of state, with their subordinates, used to meet for the transaction of their business. After the annexation in 1886, there was an attempt made to govern through the mediumof the Hloot Daw, but it turned out a failure. These high Burmese officials, it was found, needed to learn the very A B C of honest, fair and disinterested administration, and as they were too old to learn they were pensioned off.

Altogether apart from the great walled royal city, now Fort Dufferin, was the still greater town of Mandalay. It is now constituted a municipality; but in Burmese times, when the city was all in all, it was merely in Burmese phrase the Anouk-pyin,i.e., the western suburbs. The town of Mandalay lies, more or less, on all the four sides of the city, but mostly on the west, filling on that side all the space between the city and the river, and from north to south extending five or six miles. The Mandalay municipality covers, more or less densely, an area of eighteen square miles. Some portions of that space are thinly populated, and a very little of it is under cultivation as fields and gardens; but most part of it is pretty well studded with houses, and some of it densely populated, so that it is a very large city. It is uncommonly well laid out. The streets are straight, very wide, run at right angles to each other, and many of them are planted with shady tamarind trees. Some of the streets are now metalled and made serviceable for traffic, but five years ago, though so well planned and broad, they were in a most deplorable state; and those of us who look back to that time have amusing recollections of the straits we were put to in order to get about in the rainy season.

The southern end of Mandalay touches the northern limit of Amarapoora, which was the capital up to 1860. Here are to be seen the remains of a great royal city nearly as large as that at Mandalay, and after the same model exactly,—square; set so as to face the four cardinal points; the ruins of a great wall around; a deep moat outside, now dry; the palace in the centre; pagodas and other sacred buildings here and there, scattered over the place; and everywhere broken bricks strewn about; some of the ground now cultivated, and the rest covered with dense tangled jungle; but not a single inhabitant.

PART OF THE PALACE OF MANDALAY (SOUTH SIDE).

This changing of the capital from place to place, once in a while, seems a strange, extravagant freak on the part of the Burmesekings, especially in such a case as this, where it involved the founding and building of a new city only four or five miles from the existing one, and all the people had to transfer themselves and their houses and property as best they could at the king’s command. Superstitious fear was probably the chief if not the sole reason for all this useless waste. There are, within a circle of a dozen miles, four places that claim the honour of having been sometime capitals of Burma, viz., Mandalay, Amarapoora, Ava and Sagaing, all within little more than a century, and the three latter all show the crumbling remnants of their former glory. There are, besides these, other towns scattered up and down the country that have formerly been capitals.

Sagaing, twelve miles from Mandalay, was the capital in 1762, and the remains of the city wall are still to be seen. Amarapoora was founded in 1783. In 1822 it was almost totally destroyed by fire. It is said, too, that a vulture alighting on the royal spire of the palace caused great uneasiness to the king. The court astrologers were summoned to explain this omen. As, in their estimation, it foreshadowed evil, a new palace was built at Ava, and the capital was removed there in 1823, but only remained there till 1837. Those of us who are now in middle life will remember learning in our geography, “Burma, capital Ava,” whereas this fugitive capital, though it appeared so in our school books, had long before our day left Ava and gone back to Amarapoora, where it remained till 1860, when the king and his court made their last removal to Mandalay.

One thing is clear: the country that can afford to gratify its superstitious fear of omens in this spendthrift way, lightly undertaking to build a new capital every now and then, and whilst sparing so much on pagodas, monasteries, monks and other works of merit, yet look so plump and well favoured as Burmans usually do, must possess considerable sources of wealth, and there is no doubt such is the case with Burma.

Between the religious buildings and the dwellings of the people the contrast is great, but it was greater in Burmese times than it is now. It was very significant indeed to observe the rage for building brick houses that took place in Mandalay, when once itwas known for certain that the Burmese Government was no more, and that it was to be the English Government henceforth; and equally instructive was it to observe how the value of property went up by leaps and bounds. One needs no better proof than that of the reputation British rule enjoys even in the remote East, and of the enlivening touch it gives to commerce and all that is free and enterprising. And how the natives of India of different races flocked into the upper province after the annexation! They knew what British rule was in India, even though many of them knew not a word of English. Even the Upper Burmans, who were quite new to our government, seemed at once to enter into the spirit of the change that had come. The sumptuary laws were removed, of course, now the king was gone; that is, such laws as regulated to a nicety what style of house a man might build, and what kind of an umbrella and how many of them he might carry on state occasions; and the Burmans who had money now no longer feared that if they let it be known they would have to part with it. Hence, for various reasons, the building of substantial brick houses went on at a great rate, and almost all the brick houses now seen in Mandalay were built at that time.

Back to Index Next