[CHAPTER XIII]
A VISIT TO THE SHAN STATES
The Shan States occupy the whole of the eastern side of Upper Burma, and border on French Indo-China, China, and Siam. It is sometimes erroneously supposed that they are independent or semi-independent States, on the same footing as native States in India. From Theinni in the north to Mobye in the south, from the Myelat in the west to Kyaingtôn in the far east, these States were an integral part of the Burmese kingdom, over which the Burmese assertion of sovereignty was never abandoned or successfully resisted. Burmese Residents and garrisons were maintained. Though there were rebellions, revolts, and massacres, though in King Thebaw’s time the bonds of authority were loosened, independence was never established. Each State was administered by its own chief, Sawbwa, Myosa, or Ngwekunhmu, appointed or recognized by the Burmese Government, and very practically subject to the King and his Council. Consequently, when we succeeded to the sovereignty of Burma, the Shan States became as much an integral part of British India as any district of Upper Burma. To speak of the annexation of a Shan State is incorrect. Those States, such as Wuntho and Kale, which have ceased to be governed by their own chiefs, have been, not annexed, but taken under direct administration. The distinction between the Shan States and the rest of Burma is one not of political status, but of administrative method. The Legislative Councils of India and Burma make laws for the Shan States as for other parts of the Province. This power was exercised as long ago as 1886 in the first Statute relating to Upper Burma. The principle has been consistently maintained. The States which are really semi-independent, subject to suzerainty, are those of Karenni. The historical explanation is that before we took Upper Burma we strenuously maintained that Karenni was not part of the King’s dominions. When we succeeded to the King’s rights, we could not decently assert the contrary. But though there is a theoretical distinction, in practice Karenni is as much under control as the Shan States.
Pagoda at Monè.
In less than a year from the proclamation which incorporated Upper Burma in the Empire, surely as speedily as could be expected, an expedition was despatched to assert our authority in the Shan country. Colonel Stedman[219] was in command, with Mr. A. H. Hildebrand[220] and Mr. J. G. Scott[221] as civil officers. A full account of the operations of the expedition has been given by Sir Charles Crosthwaite.[222] I need not attempt to tell again the tale of Mr. Hildebrand’s conspicuous success: how he traversed the States, receiving the submission of the Chiefs and confirming them in their offices; how by tact and firmness, almost without striking a blow, he imposed peace on this distracted country; how he became the friend and monitor, as well as the strict supervisor, of every Chief. Nor must I yield to the temptation to recount once more the story of Mr. Scott’s gallant feat of arms in the capture of Twet Nga Lu, or of his later even more splendid display of the courage which dares the impossible when, with a handful of Gurkhas, he brought to his knees in his own capital the chief of Kyaingtôn, the largest and most secluded of the States. Are not these things written in the book so often quoted in these pages? It is a far cry to the Shan country and across the Salween, or these tales would be as familiar to Britons as any tale of chivalry.
Mr. Hildebrand became the first Superintendent of the Shan States. A little later they were divided into two groups, Northern and Southern, under two mutually independent Superintendents working in direct communication with Government. The Shan States extend over an area estimated at about 60,000 square miles. Here, as elsewhere in Burma, our aim has been to administer as far as possible in accordance with pre-existing custom. Each State is ruled by its own Chief, who has the power of life and death, appoints his own officials, and manages his own finances and domestic affairs. The Chiefs administer their own customary law, subject to the provisions of a very simple code, probably the shortest since the Decalogue, which lays down a few general principles and prohibitions. Issued in 1890, it still remains unaltered. The Chief is appointed by Government, and receives a sanad, or order of appointment, defining his functions and limitations. He is under the control of the Superintendent, and, to a less degree, of the Assistant Superintendents in charge of subdivisions, into which the States are distributed. These officers have by law extensive powers of intervention and revision, but as far as possible they abstain from active interference in the economy of the State. So, too, Government ordinarily avoids exertion of direct authority, but, if occasion requires, does not hesitate to deprive a chief of part of his powers, to change the order of succession, to amalgamate adjacent territories, to alter boundaries, even, as an extreme measure, to take a State under direct administration. All receipts from forests and minerals belong to the general revenues of the Province, rights over forests and mines being reserved by Government. Subject to this reservation, Government levies no taxes on the people. Each State pays a fixed sum annually as tribute, the assessment being revised every ten years. The demand is moderate, and at the decennial revision pleas for reduction are indulgently considered. It need hardly be said that the chiefs are required to keep the peace among themselves. They are responsible for the good order of their territories, and maintain their own local police in picturesque uniforms. There is also a small body of regular police under the civil officers. The garrison consisted at first of troops, then of military police, then partly of troops and military police, now again of military police alone. Each group, the Southern and the Northern, has its own battalion. Such, briefly and in outline, is the way in which the Shan States were governed five-and-twenty years ago; such is the way in which they are governed now. Probably no dependency of so great an extent is administered so inexpensively or with so little display of force. As a study in administration the experiment is full of interest, and has been remarkably successful. In five-and-twenty years there have naturally been changes and improvements. At first the Chiefs lived for themselves, caring only for their own ease and comfort, while, as was graphically said, “the bloodsuckers around them were making hay.” Now they are becoming more enlightened, and beginning to realize their responsibilities. They are learned in the mysteries of budgets and taxation rolls. Some take a zealous interest in road-making, in digging canals, in promoting the growth of new staples, in sanitation and medical relief. Many of the Chiefs are courteous and intelligent gentlemen, who live on terms of easy friendship with British officers. Several have visited India, more are familiar with Rangoon and Mandalay. One Chief, formerly very shy and reserved, now gallops on our polo-grounds. His ambition was to visit Rangoon periodically for the purpose of gazing on the ball-room at Government House, which reminded him of Heaven. When all is said, it must be remembered that the chiefs are merely officers of Government of no very high position, like other officers, holding their appointments during good behaviour.
The Shans,[223] remnants of the race which once dominated a vast empire in Eastern Asia, including the whole of Northern Burma to the confines of Tibet, are now somewhat backward in civilization. A clannish folk, with the cohesion lacking among Burmans. If you get hold of the chief you secure his people also. This no doubt facilitated the task of settlement. Of fierce appearance, to us they seem unwarlike. Once at least a conflict was stopped by a British officer adopting the simple expedient of pitching his camp midway between two hostile armies. But before our coming internecine feuds raged savage and devastating. Like medieval barons, Chief warred against Chief, laying waste the country. Populous cities reduced to ruinous heaps gave place to miserable hamlets. Wide stretches of fertile land, thrown out of cultivation, became deserts of jungle and tall grass where the tiger made his lair and the elephant ranged at will. Under the firm and just rule which we have substituted for the intermittent ferocity of Burmese dominion, the Shan plateau is reviving, and once more promises to be an orchard and a harvest-field. Scantiness of population and distance from markets alone retard the cultivation of wheat, vegetables, and fruit. Now a railway to the Southern States is being made. If it is not stopped in mid-air, and if no parsimonious schemes hinder through communication, an era of prosperity for the Shan country is at hand.
Early in 1890, I accompanied Sir Charles Crosthwaite on the first visit paid by a Chief Commissioner to the Southern Shan States. We rode from the railway at Meiktila road (Thazi), past Hlaingdet, up and along the customary mule-track to Kalaw, on the border of the Myelat[224] plain. The cart-road was yet unmade. There was not a cart of any kind in the Shan country. Kalaw lies in the midst of pine-forests, a perfectly lovely spot, believed by many to be the future hill-capital of Burma. It will be an important station on the new railway. Personally, I doubt whether it will displace Maymy̆o, though it may well be to Maymy̆o what Mussoorie is to Simla. From Kalaw we rode through the Myelat, fine open country, but intersected by many ravines, to Nyaungywe, on the edge of the Inle Lake. The chiefs of the Myelat States flocked to meet the head of the Province, and with bands of wild retainers, with much clashing of cymbals and beating of gongs, escorted him on his march. Crossing the lake we came to Fort Stedman, then the civil and military headquarters. Here the Chief Commissioner halted for some days, interviewing local officers and many Shan notables, and holding a Durbar, at which he addressed the assembled Chiefs. These State visits to Fort Stedman and Taung-gyi, which afterwards became the Superintendent’s headquarters, were full of interest, certainly to the visitors, probably also to the local inhabitants. I have assisted at three such visits. From distant hills, from far across the Salween, come multitudes of strange people eager to do honour to the representative of their Sovereign. Weird dances by outlandish folk, grotesque caperings some, others slow melancholy measures, expressed the popular rejoicing. The lake was alive with boats competing in exciting races. Men and women took part in these contests. Here you might see the Sawbwa distribute prizes to victors and vanquished, these races being of the nature of a caucus-race, and smearing with lime the foreheads of the losers. You shall also see the lake-dwellers standing and rowing with legs instead of arms, a difficult and, as one may think, somewhat useless feat. Many young and ambitious officers have sought to accomplish it, but in vain. The lake-men row in this way with perfect ease and skill, but not, I think, faster than a boat paddled in the ordinary style.