The Pacification of Burma

by C. H. T. Crosthwaite

The town of Kengtung is about ten miles as the crow flies from the pass over the Loi Pè Möng.

"It lies in a plain about twenty miles long and perhaps fifteen broad. To the west and north this is perfectly flat and under paddy cultivation; to the east and south are low grassy hills with swamps in the hollows. The town is built on the western edge of this rolling country and overlooks the paddy-lands. It is surrounded by a wall about fifteen feet high, and machicolated at the top." (The wall and a moat were constructed by the Burman King Alompra in the eighteenth century.) "The bricks are insufficiently burnt, the wall is old and therefore crumbled away in many places, so that it is picturesque rather than formidable; moreover, some hills to the south-west would enable field-guns to drop shells wherever they pleased over the enceinte. The wall follows the line of the rolling ground, and to the north and south towers above the plain. To the west it has not this natural advantage, and jungle affords admirable cover up to the dry ditch which protects it on this side. To north-east and south swampy ground covers the approach. The walls measure four and three-quarter miles round, and have ten gates, which used to be covered by semicircular arches. Only two of these arches, however, now remain, both on the eastern face. There is very little level ground within the walls, and only the northern half of the walled town is inhabited. Even this portion is so overrun with trees as to be almost jungle, and there are several large swamps among the houses. These supply the people with water to drink and small mud-fish to eat. There are probably seven or eight hundred houses within the walls, and many of these are very substantial. Some are entirely built of brick; some have brick basements and plank walling; and the number of bamboo houses is very small. All the better-class houses are roofed with small tiles made locally. To judge from the Sawbwa's audience-hall, these tiles are not a very satisfactory protection against rain, but they at any rate prevent the fires which do such frequent mischief in other Shan towns. The monasteries are numerous, and some of them are adorned with elaborate carving and wall paintings. They are much like the ordinary Burmese or Shan Kyaung (monastery) in general architecture, but there is an indefinable suggestion of Tartar influence about them. This is particularly noticeable in the massive gateways which immediately suggest the paifang of China."

There was a very large colony of Shan Chinese to the east of the town. They had large gardens and kept innumerable goats, pigs, ducks, and fowls.

"Their houses are all built of bamboo, and their villages, like those of China, are inconceivably dirty, though in their person the inhabitants are clean enough."

To the industry of these people is due the manufacture of tiles and of the pottery work, which is sold cheap and of great variety in Kengtung bazaar. The inhabitants of the plain in which the city lies were, Mr. Scott estimated, about twenty thousand. There were some military surveyors in his party, but owing to the very critical state of affairs for some time after the city was entered, it was thought better not to send them out to survey.

Such, briefly, was the city of Kengtung when the small British party entered its gates on the 14th of March, 1890. The elephants, although they marched slowly, and may have been execrated at times on that account, undoubtedly added pomp to the somewhat insignificant procession which entered the city. What followed is best told in the words of Mr. Scott's report. (Report on Southern Shan States for the year 1889-90.)

"We were met at the edge of the plain by the Tawphaya, the Sawbwa's cousin and Chief Minister, along with a number of the principal officials, and marched in procession to the town. Great part of the road was lined by villagers, who stood in many places three or four deep to see us pass. We camped on the site of the old Burmese post, and were visited almost immediately after our tents were pitched by the Sawbwa and his half-brother, the Kyem Meung (heir-apparent). The Sawbwa is sixteen, and looks older. The Kyem Meung's age is a matter of dispute between the Ministers, his mother, and himself. Dates vary over three years, but he looks a good deal younger than his brother.

"A formal return visit was paid to the Sawbwa next day. He is building himself a new brick haw (palace), and the old palace, which is a dingy wooden erection, is said to be so rickety that it would have infallibly collapsed with the number of people who were to be present at the reception. We were therefore received in the court-house, which looks rather like a railway goods shed outside, but has been rather highly decorated within. The gilding is now, however, worn and tawdry. There is a large gold throne at the farther end, enclosed within a railing, and reached by folding doors from behind, like the Mandalay Yazapalin, which it otherwise resembles in construction. The Sawbwa and his brother sat on chairs in front of this, outside the railing, and we were placed between them. There was an enormous gathering of officials both of the town and the neighbourhood, and of the prominent merchants of the town, and the conversation was kept up by these and by the Kyem Meung, for the Sawbwa had never a word to say beyond Yes or No. The merchants all talked of the opening up of communications with the West, and particularly of the construction of a railway. Trade at present is entirely with China. The old Chiengmai trade is greatly interfered with, and almost put an end to by taxations, restrictions, and imposts levied at the Siamese frontier posts. The general impression received was that the merchant class and the bulk of the ministers were delighted with the establishment of British authority in Kengtung. There is a huge drum near the door of the audience-hall. It is made of hide stretched on a wooden frame, and is about the size of a puncheon. This is said to have been made by the 'hill-people,' but by what hill-people and where, nobody knew. One stroke on this Sigyi announces that the Sawbwa has ascended the throne; two, that he has left the palace to go through the town; and three strokes summon all officials and armed men within hearing to the palace without an instant's delay. We heard three strokes on this drum a good many times during the next few days.

"On the night of the 16th of March, the second day after our arrival, there was a pwè (a posture dance) inside the Sawbwa's enclosure. Eight of our Panthay mule-drivers, who had been out searching for stray mules, went in after dark to buy cheroots at the usual bazaar. They were set on by the Sawbwa's men. Most of them escaped, but one man was seized, held with his face to the ground and shot in the back by the Sawbwa himself. He was then set free and went back to his camp. Two other shots were heard, and one of the Panthays has never since been seen. The Panthay camp was some distance away in the plain, and before I had got more than the excited account of one of the Panthays, who fled from the palace to our camp, I had demanded, next morning, an explanation from the Sawbwa, and the production of the man who had fired the revolver. I got no explanation, except that the Sawbwa had issued an order that none of our followers were to be allowed to go about in the town wearing arms. In a country where every male above six years wears a dagger, this was an absurdity. The order had not, moreover, been communicated to our people. I therefore demanded the surrender of the offender, and had issued this order before the Panthays managed to summon up courage enough to denounce the Sawbwa himself as the murderer. It was impossible to recede. It was necessary for British prestige and for our own personal safety to settle the case. Our followers expected to be massacred in their beds; the Sawbwa feared that he would be seized in his palace, and filled it with armed men. For two days the suspense was rather trying. I then announced that if my orders were not complied with, I would march down to the haw the next day. This brought up the Tawpaya and several other ministers, with a petition that I would decide the case as it stood. They produced no witnesses, and did not deny that the Sawbwa was the offender. I therefore sentenced him to pay Rs. 500 compensation to the wounded man and Rs. 1,500 if the missing man was not produced within five days alive and well. This sentence, I informed them, was a concession to the low state of their civilization and the ignorance of the Sawbwa. The Rs. 500 were paid a couple of hours afterwards, and the Rs. 1,500 a few days before we left.

"The incident was all the more embarrassing, because none of the details of the Sawbwa's relations with the British Government had been settled. He had been reduced to such a state of fear that it was only by again threatening to march down to the haw that I was able to persuade him to come and discuss the terms under which he received a sanad of appointment from the British Government. When he did come, however, his manner was much more satisfactory, and he accepted in every detail the terms of the sanad and promised to attend future Durbars of the Shan chiefs. Other matters which had to be arranged with him concerning his western frontier were also easily put in train for settlement."