A Civil Servant in Burma

In March, 1886, Sir Charles Bernard returned to Mandalay. On April 1 the provisional administration of the Hlutdaw came to an end. Sir Edward Sladen retired, and the Chief Commissioner assumed direct control of Upper Burma. At the same time the Burma Field Force was broken up, Sir Harry Prendergast returned to India, and Sir George White took command of the troops. While retaining general control of the whole Province, Sir Charles Bernard left Lower Burma under the immediate direction of Mr. G. J. S. Hodgkinson118 as Special Commissioner, devoting his own energies mainly to the settlement of the new Province and the modelling of its administration. An entirely separate Secretariat was formed, of which, as Secretary for Upper Burma, I was in sole charge. My office was in the Hlutdaw building, within the Palace enclosure. We had our own little printing-press, modestly but efficiently equipped by Mr. Regan, and we published our own Gazette. My only qualified assistant was Mr. Taw Sein Ko,119 then in his early youth, to whom I am indebted for invaluable assistance during those busy months as well as in later years. Of the clerical staff, the less said the better. It was, perhaps, a unique Secretariat, with no records of previous years and no precedents. Whatever the Secretary might forget, the Chief Commissioner remembered. Besides myself, the only member of Sir Charles Bernard’s immediate staff was the Personal Assistant. This office was filled first by Andrew Thomson, C.S., a man of brilliant ability and exceptional gifts. Later came Sir Charles Bernard’s elder son, J. H. Bernard, C.S., endowed with many of the qualities of his family. Andrew Thomson died in the flower of his youth, multis bonis flebilis. James Bernard died in Bengal, in tragic circumstances, midway in a career of promise. Never were two pleasanter or more helpful comrades.

Though the Hlutdaw was dissolved, seven or eight of the principal Ministers were retained on moderate salaries as a consultative body. They had their own office in the Hlutdaw building, with a few clerks, and were in charge of the old State records. The handwriting of these clerks was most elaborate and beautiful. Such writing is now, I fear, a lost art. In the King’s time Court writers were kept up to the mark by fear of heavy penalties. For wrongly dividing a word at the end of a line (like thi-

s) the punishment was amputation of the right hand. It seems almost excessive. The Sayedawgyi were of a higher class than ordinary clerks in Government offices. Some of them were related to Ministers, or even to members of the royal family. And often enough they blossomed into Wuns or Ministers. Among them were men of ability and character. I instance my friend Maung Tin, A.T.M., Extra Assistant Commissioner, long resident at Pagan as township officer, now subdivisional officer, a recognized authority on the antiquities of that historic city. Another, also Maung Tin, A.T.M., Extra Assistant Commissioner and subdivisional officer, has written a learned history of Burma. Both are men of good family and have attained responsible positions under our Government. The Ministers had no powers, but were often consulted on matters of which they had special knowledge or means of information. Punctually at noon every day, a chaprási120 came into my office and announced the Minister’s approach.121 At the ensuing conference public affairs were discussed and the opinions of Ministers invited. If the stock of references was low, the conversation turned to Burmese history and family affairs, of which their knowledge was extensive and accurate. One day we were all bidden to the wedding of the late Shwepyi Mingyi’s daughter. A peculiar custom prevailed among the wealthier classes of having marriages celebrated by Pônnas, Hindu descendants of captives from Assam or Manipúr. It has already been explained that Buddhism, as understood in Burma, provides no ceremony of marriage. The custom of inviting Pônnas to celebrate marriages of Buddhists with some sort of Hindu rite, the binding with a thread and the eating out of the same dish, is a curious anomaly for which I can find no parallel. This was a wedding of the Pônna type. All Mandalay attended, including many European officers. To complete the quaint mixture of foreign ceremonies, the health of bride and bridegroom was drunk in champagne by those of the company who allowed themselves that indulgence. Late in the morning, as I was about to leave, one of the Ministers said with a sigh: “Well, I suppose we must be getting away to office too.” The suggestion that such a festal day might be spent as a holiday was accepted with effusion. There was something pathetic in the thought of these men, all of mature and some of advanced years, who had exercised almost absolute sway over a kingdom, regarding themselves as under the orders of an officer so much their junior in age. I did my best to make the position as little irksome as might be. As I retained the friendship of every one of them as long as he lived, I hope my efforts had some measure of success.

With the Kinwun Mingyi I contracted a close and intimate friendship, which ended only with his death at an advanced age. In early days Andrew Thomson and I were often at his house, playing with his charming grandchildren, small boys and girls of four or five years of age; sometimes on Sunday mornings we went to his garden beyond the walls for an early picnic. The Mingyi was a man of amiable disposition and courtly manners, of great learning, a delightful companion. To have had the privilege of discussing with him the doctrine of Neikban (Nirvana) is a pleasant memory. Although he could have no real love for our Government, he loyally accepted it, and did his best to support and strengthen the new order. I believe him to have been a man of high character, incapable of any base or treacherous act. His personal record was unimpeachable; he lived and died in honourable disregard of wealth. He had no children except two sons by adoption.

Another house where I was always welcome was that of the widow of the Pagan Min. She was his principal Queen, and occupied the house where the deposed King and herself had lived since the accession of Mindôn Min.122 It was interesting to meet in such conditions one who had sat on the throne and was sprung from the race of Burma’s Kings. She was a charming lady, advanced in years, with the fine manners of her rank and people. In the house of the Pintha Mintha123 I was also received on cordial terms. My friendship with his family subsists to this day.

The description already given124 of the position of women in Burma may help to render intelligible the sketch of our life in Mandalay in early days. For some months European ladies were not encouraged to come to Mandalay. Most of us were extremely busy, and lived an austere life in the Palace. For companionship we were dependent on one another and on our Burmese friends. The people of whom I saw most in rare intervals of relaxation were officials and their families and members of the royal house. Queens and Princesses were many. For a melancholy reason Princes were few. Except the Myingun Prince in Pondicherry, and the Nyaung-yan and Nyaung-ôk Princes in Calcutta, only two of Mindôn Min’s sons survived—the Kawlin and Pyinmana125 Princes.126 Educated in India, these two have now for some years lived in charming domesticity in Rangoon; each happily married to a lady of his House. Both are honorary magistrates, and duly take their turn as members of a Bench for the trial of petty cases. There were a few other Minthas, sons of the Einshemin127 and other Princes, besides more distant relations of the King. Several of the Minthas have taken service under Government, and occupy responsible positions as Assistant Commissioners, My̆o-ôks, and in other departments. Almost all the ladies of the Royal House, widows and daughters of Mindôn Min, or otherwise nearly related to the King, were in great distress and poverty. For the most part they had subsisted on meagre allowances, many of them being kept in confinement or under restraint. All these ladies received pensions from the British Government, but on so minute a scale that Sir Charles Bernard’s proposals for their maintenance excited by their moderation the surprise even of the Government of India. Yet when income-tax was, as some think illegally, levied in Upper Burma on incomes derived from Government, I am ashamed to say that these paltry stipends were subjected to deduction. From time to time the scale of pensions was raised, but it was not till many years later that I had the good fortune to enlist Lord Minto’s active sympathy with these ladies, and to secure for them allowances not utterly inadequate. Most prominent of the royal ladies in Mandalay were two full sisters of King Thebaw, the Pakangyi and Meiktila Supaya.128 Meiktila Supaya married a commoner, and died some years ago, leaving two charming daughters, of whom one is the wife of a Government officer. The Amá-daw-gyi129 brought up her nieces, and lived quietly in Mandalay till recent days. Only one of Mindôn Min’s wives of royal stock survived till our time. Wives of inferior rank were not of royal blood, but for the most part daughters of officials or chiefs. The three whom I knew best were three sisters, the Limban, Thetpan, and Thayazein Queens, daughters of a Talaing My̆o-thugyi in Lower Burma. They were ladies of dignity and refinement, with whom my family and I were long on terms of intimacy. Only the Thayazein Queen survives, living happily with her daughters and grandchildren in Rangoon. The pension list included over one hundred persons. At first the Princesses shrank from marrying commoners, but clearly most of them must condescend or remain unwed. Many of them, therefore, in the course of time took husbands of inferior rank. In the quarter of a century which has passed since the annexation, not one of the ladies of the Burmese royal family has given the slightest trouble to Government from a political point of view; none of them has intrigued or shared in any conspiracy or seditious movement. When the prominent part taken by Burmese women in public and private affairs is remembered, it will be admitted that, if for this reason alone, these ladies merit gentle treatment at our hands. I think they might at least be excused from paying income-tax on their pensions.

It may be appropriate here to notice the theory and practice of class distinctions in Burma. The King and the royal family were placed on a lone and lofty pedestal, and regarded with exaggerated reverence. In respect of royalty there was almost, not quite, a distinction of caste. An instance of respect for the sacredness of the blood royal came under my own notice. A granddaughter of Mindôn Min, daughter of his son by a minor Queen, a charming and attractive girl, eloped with the Queen’s nephew, a very presentable youth. The boy was one of the Queen’s household, son of the Queen’s own brother, a commoner. The Mipaya’s130 distress and indignation were extreme. To console her, I suggested that, after all, the lover was of her own family. “I would as soon she had married a coolie out of the street,” was the uncompromising reply. The old lady had no rest till she had worried these young people to divorce, and married the girl to a Princeling. Anomalies were necessarily recognized. Though the King took as his chief Queen one of his half-sisters, Kings and Princes might marry commoners; royal ladies might not do so. Of late, as we have seen, this rule has become less strict. But genuine respect for the royal family still abounds. To this day, whether in Upper or Lower Burma, any upstart who pretends to royal origin secures a following.131 The very sensible plan of employing them as My̆o-ôks and Extra Assistant Commissioners has done much to keep real sons of Princes out of mischief.

Apart from the royal family and monks, the only distinct class among Burmans is that of officials. There is no landed gentry; there are no county families. In most cases, especially in the higher grades, official rank was not hereditary. The Mingyi’s son did not become a Mingyi, or the Wun’s son a Wun, by succession. Occasionally one came across officers, like my friend U Pe Si,132 sprung from official families. This was the result of nepotism, not heredity. As a rule an official obtained his position by luck or by favour or by family influence, by repute for learning, or by distinction as a soldier or administrator. The royal family and officials excluded, the rest of the people were on the same social plane. False pride and snobbishness were unknown. One of the Ministers, of eminent learning, who came clad in silks and glittering with golden chains, brought his brother to see me. The brother was an old peasant out of the fields, who sat on the floor, wearing the scanty dress of the working farmer. We had a pleasant talk about crops and seasons, while the Minister sat on a chair and discussed what Prince Hassan133 used to call “country business.” It is, perhaps, to this absence of false pride, to genuine kindness of heart, and to traditional respect for elders, that the fine manners of Burmans are due. Good manners and self-respect are marks of all ranks. I have received perfect civility and courtesy from Princes and Ministers, from peasants and labouring men; always a kind word and a smile and thought for a guest’s comfort and convenience. Even contact with Western civilization has not yet spoilt the grace of manner which adorns the Burmese race.

The lack of class distinctions imports a certain want of cohesion, which does not facilitate the task of administration. Burmans are rank individualists, and so, I suppose, far behind the times. Each family is a separate entity, bound by no ties to any overlord. It is true that the hereditary principle is strong in the case of minor offices, such as those of My̆o-thugyi134 or Ywa-thugyi.135 These comparatively small but important offices passed from father to son for generations. In Lower Burma we have practically abolished the circle, and in Upper Burma the My̆o is likewise in process of decay. I for one agree that the village is the better unit. Yet some tribute of respect must be paid to the old My̆o-thugyi, a courtly country gentleman of dignity and presence, possibly more ornamental than useful.

CHAPTER X

THE FIRST YEAR AFTER THE ANNEXATION

The task of constituting the new Administration and of reducing the country to order was rendered especially difficult by the rigid economy at first contemplated by the Government of India. In the discussions during the Viceroy’s visit it is understood that frugality was declared essential. With the loyalty which in him, as in Sir Arthur Phayre, rose almost to a passion, Sir Charles Bernard did his utmost to carry out the wishes of Government. Beyond doubt or dispute, a burden far greater than any man should be asked to bear was placed upon the Chief Commissioner’s shoulders. Yet the Titan never showed signs of weariness. There were to be no Divisional Commissioners; district officers were to work under the Chief Commissioner’s orders. The provision for police, especially military police, was quite inadequate. The Secretariat staff was plainly insufficient. No one but Sir Charles Bernard, with his immense power of work, his loyal enthusiasm, his marvellous memory and mastery of detail, could have attempted the task. And the effort was beyond even those exceptional powers. In the first year of the occupation Sir Charles Bernard, for some time single-handed, organized and directed the administration of the new Province, doing the work of three ordinary men, dealing as far as possible immediately in police matters with the Inspector-General, in forest matters with the Conservator, keeping close touch and on the most friendly terms with the military authorities, keeping also in personal contact with every district officer, guiding, encouraging, seldom admonishing. Throughout this year of labour and anxiety he was hardly a week free from severe and painful illness. Almost from the beginning he was the target of malicious and venomous attack. With an inadequate though loyal and efficient staff in the districts; with scanty funds doled out by the Imperial Government, which then, as ever, treated Burma with unsympathetic parsimony; under the depressing effects of illness, the object of ignorant and unscrupulous detraction, the work done by Sir Charles Bernard in that first year, when order began to be evolved out of chaos, has never been properly appreciated in public. But no civil officer who served in Upper Burma in that year fails to recognize the heroic work done by his Chief, or to remember the support and encouragement received from him in times of trouble, doubt, and confusion. No military officer of standing forgets the loyal co-operation of the civil power as represented by the Chief Commissioner. Sir Charles Bernard could not remain in Burma to complete his work. He laid a sound basis for the restoration of order and the building up of the fabric of settled government. The report of the year’s work issued at the end of 1886 was a record of which no Administration need have been ashamed.

As might have been foreseen from the first, it was soon found impossible for the Chief Commissioner directly to control the affairs of every District. Upper Burma was therefore partitioned into Divisions, and Commissioners were appointed. In June, Mr. H. St. G. Tucker, C.S., became Commissioner of the Eastern Division, with headquarters at Ningyan (Pyinmana). This division was more remote from Mandalay than any part of the Province as yet sought to be administered; there was no communication with it by water, and neither road nor rail was yet in being. In August and September three other divisions were constituted. Mr. G. D. Burgess, C.S., became Commissioner of the Northern Division; Mr. F. W. R. Fryer,136 C.S., with a great reputation from the Punjab, assumed charge of the Central Division, both for a time residing at Mandalay; Mr. J. J. Digges La Touche,137 C.S., from the North-West Provinces, was posted to the Southern Division, with headquarters at Minbu. With some adjustment of local limits, these Divisions still subsist. Their names have been changed, not, I think, for the better, and in most cases the headquarters have been shifted. The appointment of these officers afforded the Chief Commissioner appreciable relief.

Having taken over an area twice as large as Lower Burma, Sir Charles Bernard was confronted with the task of finding officers to administer it. Obviously the existing staff could not be stretched to cover the new Province and provide equipment for the old Province as well. For the Commission civilians were sent from other provinces, military civilians were recruited, and appointments were offered to men in various departments or not yet in Government service. In each of these alternatives there were advantages and disadvantages. Civilians from other provinces, though versed in the art of administration, were ignorant of the language and customs of Burma. Military civilians, excellent material, needed some training in civil work. Officers of other departments and non-officials recruited in the Province knew the language and the people, but had no acquaintance with administrative methods. The last-mentioned defect is probably regarded by many as imaginary. While for other arts and professions a laborious education is necessary, we all know that government and administration are gifts of the gods and come by nature. We are all familiar with brilliant amateurs in administration, who know their work far better than those trained to the business from their youth. The Commission was thus a composite body, probably not so supremely excellent as that which undertook the settlement of the Punjab under John and Henry Lawrence, but full of ability and zeal. The Civil Service, the Army, and what were then called the Uncovenanted Services, furnished officers of conspicuous merit, who in the years immediately succeeding the annexation and in later times did invaluable work. Without making invidious distinctions or offering presumptuous criticisms, I may mention of the early new-comers Mr. H. P. Todd-Naylor,138 Mr. J. George Scott,139 Mr. H. A. Browning,140 Mr. B. S. Carey,141 and Mr. H. M. S. Matthews.142

The officering of the civil police was one of even greater difficulty, the pay and prospects being far less attractive. Some officers were drafted from other Provinces. Many adventurous young gentlemen flocked to Mandalay, eager to take part in the settlement of a new Province. Of these some were appointed to be inspectors, some to be even head constables, with a prospect of obtaining gazetted rank in the course of time. Most of them did excellent work, fully justifying their selection. From time to time some were transferred to the Commission. The majority had a hard and disappointing life, waiting long for the realization of their dreams. The story of the Burma Civil Police is one of hope deferred, and of weary plodding through many dismal years. It is greatly to the credit of its officers that they did well under such depressing conditions.

In the first year, at least, the bulk of the actual work of pacification was done by the army of occupation. Sir George White was in command, brave among the brave, cheeriest of companions, loyalest of friends, the warrior whom every man in arms should wish to be. Chief of his Staff was Colonel Prothero,143 who worked all day and night without turning a hair, whose gay serenity nothing could ruffle, whose motto might have been:

“Still to be neat, still to be dressedAs always going to a feast.”

In the course of the summer, Sir Herbert Macpherson, V.C.,144 came over to exercise general control. After his lamented death, the Commander-in-Chief in India himself, Sir Frederick Roberts, spent some months in Burma, occupying the summer-house in the Palace garden where the King surrendered, giving to civil and military administration the support of his authority, the strength of his wise counsel. Gradually, as the area of settled government extended, the country was covered with a network of small military posts, more than a hundred being in existence at the end of the year.

In these months came the first two military police battalions, raised by Mr. Loch and Mr. Gastrell.145 The Mandalay battalion, which I knew best, attracted the flower of the Punjab. Under Mr. Gastrell’s excellent command it became a thoroughly efficient force, conspicuous among the large body of military police which garrisoned the country in subsequent years. These military police played an important part in the pacification. Their behaviour was most praiseworthy. Several battalions later on were converted into regular regiments of the Indian Army, called at first Burma Regiments.

For civil administration the Province was parcelled out into Districts, at first twelve, afterwards seventeen in number, each in charge of a Deputy Commissioner, with such Assistants as could be provided. In some cases military commandants of outposts were invested with civil powers, and did much useful work in a civil capacity. Every effort was made to enlist local Burman officials under Government, and many became My̆o-ôks and rendered valuable service. But it was impossible to induce higher officials to leave Mandalay, and to take part in the settlement of out-districts. The effort was made and failed. One of Sir Charles Bernard’s first acts was the preparation and promulgation of a set of instructions to civil officers, an admirable compilation embracing in a small compass all the rules necessary at the outset for the guidance of his subordinates. That was all the law we had in Upper Burma till the end of November, 1886. As an instance of the care taken to prevent hasty and harsh measures, it may be mentioned that all capital sentences had to be referred to the Chief Commissioner for confirmation. When Commissioners were appointed, the duty of confirming these sentences was delegated to them.

The chaos to which the country was reduced, and the confusion which prevailed under the Burmese Government, rendered the task of settlement extraordinarily difficult. The country was overrun with dacoit bands, ranging in numbers from five to five hundred. The names of the leaders, Hla U, Bo146 Cho, Bo Swè, Ôktama, Shwe Yan, became household words. For some of the dacoit movements there was no doubt a slight political move. A few scions of the royal stock who had escaped the massacres of 1879 set up as pretenders to sovereignty, while here and there men of humble origin assumed the style of royalty and raised the standard of revolt. But as a rule, from the deeds and aspirations of these robber bands genuine patriotism was conspicuously absent. Most of the gangs consisted of dacoits pure and simple, whose sole object was plunder and rapine, who held the countryside in terror, and committed indescribable atrocities on their own people. Where-ever there was an appearance of organized resistance, Buddhist monks were among the chiefs. No political movement of importance has been without a monk as the leading spirit.