Four years in Upper Burma

by W. R. Winston

This changing of the capital from place to place, once in a while, seems a strange, extravagant freak on the part of the Burmese kings, 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 it was 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.

CHAPTER IV.
THE PEOPLE OF MANDALAY.

Mandalay is very cosmopolitan. As with many cities in the East, the modern facilities for travel and the prospects of business have brought together people of many nations and tongues. As regards the Burmans themselves, who of course are the great majority of the inhabitants, future chapters will afford opportunities for describing them. It is rather of the multifarious foreign element of the population that I wish now to speak.

In the streets of Mandalay it is no uncommon thing to see a people evidently of the Mongolian type, and not unlike the Burmans in appearance, but slightly different in features, different in language, and in dress. These are the Shans, the inhabitants of the elevated country to the east of Upper Burma—a fine country by all accounts, and likely to grow greatly in prosperity and to attract population, now that it has come under firm and settled rule. They are distinguishable by their dark, baggy trousers in place of the Burmese loin cloth, by the very large pliable straw sun-hats which they wear, and by a larger amount of tattooing on the body than is usual with the Burmans. The Shans are great gardeners and great traders. Caravans of pack bullocks loaded with produce from the Shan Hills are frequently seen coming into Mandalay, accompanied by Shans armed to the teeth, as well as men on foot carrying loads; and now that the land has rest from incessant tribal war and dacoity, this trade is on the increase. In 1888-89, according to Government returns, the number of laden bullocks was 27,170, and the value of the goods 730,279 rupees; nearly double the returns of the previous year. The Shans, after disposing of their loads, purchase in the bazaar goods of European manufacture for the return journey. A few Shans are permanently resident in Mandalay.