Four years in Upper Burma

by W. R. Winston

We make our way up the Irrawaddy by one of the splendid steamers of the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company, and in due time we land at Mandalay, and climb the steep bank of the river, and there we are with our few boxes, strangers in a strange land, knowing nobody belonging to the place, not a word of the Burmese language, with no mission house to turn into, no native Christians, and, worst of all, no native helpers. After thirteen years of very happy work in Ceylon, where we have a flourishing mission and a large staff of native helpers, it required a stout heart to face the difficulties of pioneer work, and no little faith, hope and perseverance. Especially did we miss the aid of our native brethren.

The chief value of the European missionary, and of the European generally, in the East, is in his capacity as a leader of men. Upon him devolves the initiation, and the vigorous working out, of plans of aggression, and he has to find the enthusiasm for everybody about him. But if the European is brain, and heart, and hand to the mission, his native brethren are equally indispensable as the eyes, ears, and feet. My native brother has a knowledge of his country, and of his people, and of all that is going on, extensive, accurate, and intimate beyond anything I can ever attain unto, and he is in touch with his own people as no foreigner can ever be—no, not if he spends half a century among them. This invaluable help I greatly missed.

For some days I lodged with the Rev. J. H. Bateson in a Buddhist monastery, which had been assigned to him by the military authorities. He had arrived from England three weeks previously, in the capacity of Wesleyan Chaplain to the Upper Burma Field Force. It was one of a considerable number of buildings that had been “annexed” for the temporary accommodation of the troops, and which were afterwards handed over again to the Buddhist monks. It was a fine, substantial teak building, raised six or seven feet from the ground, with a broad verandah back and front, and consisted of three rooms. The roof was of the usual fantastic Burmese style, in triple form, and at one end it terminated in a rather tall spire; and the whole of the building, as usual with monasteries, was richly decorated with elaborate carvings in wood. Amidst some disadvantages as a residence it had one very obvious advantage, that we paid no rent for it.

The first duty lying before me was obviously to commence the study of the language, and along with that, to look about and find the best sites for establishing our mission centres, and for the first few months I gave my attention closely to those matters. Whilst I was making these preparations for laying the foundations of our future mission work amongst the natives of the country, there was abundance of work also ready to hand amongst the soldiers and other English-speaking people, congregated in a large military and civil station like Mandalay. Mr. Bateson had to undertake long journeys to other military stations at intervals, in the course of his duties as chaplain to the troops, and it fell to my lot to attend to the English congregation in his absence. I have heard and read of some missionaries who have held that it was no part of their duty, as missionaries to the heathen, to preach in English at all. But I never could see that a white skin, and the fact that a man speaks English, should be deemed to disqualify him from receiving Gospel ministrations; and I can see no reason why the time and attention given to our own countrymen need be allowed to interfere materially with the missionary’s work for the natives. It is in circumstances such as those of Upper Burma at that time, and amidst the rough experiences of pioneer life in a new country, that our countrymen most need the ministrations of the Gospel. In a heathen land and amidst the lax morals which heathenism engenders, absent from home and friends, and, as it was then with many, from wife and family, and all the ordinary restraints and helps of civilised life; in some cases away for months together in lonely stations, where there were no Christian services of any kind, they were sorely tempted to go astray, and do things they never would have done at home. I therefore gladly did what I could.

OUR FIRST HOME IN MANDALAY.

We had “parade services” for the soldiers, and other public services in English, temperance meetings, Bible classes, and devotional meetings, in quaint Burmese sacred buildings, with the images of Buddha about, wherever we could find a place quiet and convenient, for as yet we had no place of our own set apart for Christian services. Our first public Sunday services for the soldiers were held in the throne room of the royal palace, just at the foot of the throne itself. Though this did not mean much from a missionary point of view, yet it certainly furnished a strange and romantic association of ideas, to be conducting Christian worship in such a place as that, in the midst of a heathen palace, where there had been such a despotic government, and at times so much cruelty and bloodshed. Ever since that time we have had a building set apart within the palace precincts for our military services. Many of the meetings, held amidst such strange and grotesque surroundings, were owned of God to the spiritual benefit of those who attended; and some were accompanied by a solemn melting power of the Spirit, confessions of sin, and aspirations after a better life, such as I have seldom witnessed. Doubtless these services were useful in reminding many of almost forgotten truths, and in reviving blessed memories of home and youth, which, amidst the rough life of campaigning in Burma, they were too apt to forget.

It was our happiness, during those first years, never to be without some godly association amongst the officers of the garrison, and also amongst the civilians; and though there were many removals and changes, we always found some like-minded, who took pleasure in assisting in the Gospel and temperance work. They belonged to various sections and denominations of the Church of Christ, but that made no difference; we were able cordially to work together.

My colleague, Mr. Bateson, established a temporary Soldiers’ Home, with a bar for the sale of food and refreshments, and convenience for reading, writing and games, in a Burmese building granted by the military authorities for the purpose in the palace; and this proved a very welcome resort for large numbers of the soldiers, who wished to spend their evenings in a sober and rational manner. It did excellent service for a year or two, and was eventually closed for the removal of the building; a much larger and far more complete Soldiers’ Institute having by that time been built and furnished by the military authorities.

Attractive as this work was in one’s own language, and amongst one’s own people, I felt from the first that the mission to the Burmans, though an incomparably more difficult, less inviting, and less immediately successful work, was my own most pressing duty, and the work for which I had specially come. On my arrival in Rangoon I had engaged the services of a young Burman, and brought him up to Mandalay that he might teach me Burmese, and with him I commenced the study of the language at once. But if any one imagines that a native munshee teaches as an English teacher teaches, he is greatly mistaken. For want of the ability to impart the knowledge he has, the teaching does not flow from him as from a fountain; it has to be laboriously pumped out of him, and it requires some ingenuity to find how to work that pump, and if you fail to pump, or do not pump judiciously, you get nothing. In learning any Oriental language you have, in fact, to teach yourself, using the so-called teacher in much the same way as you would use the dictionary, or any other passive repository of the necessary knowledge.