Kitabı oku: «A Civil Servant in Burma», sayfa 9
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 dressed
As 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.
The story of the pacification has been told fully, vividly, and accurately by Sir Charles Crosthwaite.147 It is not my purpose to attempt to tell the story again. In the first year the work proceeded slowly, but within limits effectually. Many dacoit leaders were killed or captured, and the elements of regular administration were introduced into several districts. Revenue, of no enormous amount, it is true, was collected; the country was covered with telegraph lines; useful public works were undertaken. The early months were clouded by the loss in action of Robert Phayre, a promising civilian;148 the autumn was saddened, for me most of all, by the death from fever, in Kyauksè, of Robert Pilcher. A master of their language, and sincerely in sympathy with them, Pilcher was exceedingly popular with the Burmese. The first time I ever saw a man literally beat his breast for grief was when I told the good old Taungtaya-ngasè Bo149 the sad tidings of his death. Since then I have seen men and boys beat their breasts and shed real tears at the recital of the tale of Hassan and Hussein150 at the Mohurram. Pilcher was a scholar with a touch of genius; his early death was a loss to the State.
Among the homely virtues of the Burmese must be counted respect for parents. This is inculcated in the Sacred Books, and forms a really pleasing phase of family life. Two nephews of the Taung-gwin Mingyi, one of the Council of Ministers, were giving trouble in the Ava district. It was suggested to the Mingyi that he should use his influence to induce them to surrender and make peace with Government. “Certainly,” said the Mingyi; “I will send for their parents and put them in my dungeon and afflict them till their sons come in.” It was not possible to approve this crude proposal, but the Mingyi was told that he might ask the parents to stay with him, and talk kindly to them about their erring children. The young men submitted in a week, and gave no further trouble. In Sagaing a famous Bo, Min O, was captured. His life was forfeit for many crimes; but he was an old man, and two of his sons were at large, leading dacoit bands. Word was sent to them that if they did not surrender, their father would be hanged; but if they gave themselves up, his life would be spared. Both came in. It will no doubt surprise some people to learn that the promise to spare Min O’s life was kept.
In the early days of April, 1886, there seemed to be a lull in the storm. The time of the Burmese New Year approached, always a time of some anxiety, when, if ever, disturbance may be expected. Perhaps this had not yet been realized. The exact moment on which the New Year began was calculated by the Pônnas,151 who, besides officiating at weddings, were also the royal astrologers.152 The time was to be announced by the firing of a cannon from the Palace enclosure. On that April morning the astrologers assembled in the courtyard of the Palace. The head seer drew a line in the dust, planted a small stick, and declared that when the shadow of the stick reached the line the auspicious moment would have come. At the precise instant I made a preconcerted sign, and the cannon was fired. It might have been arranged as the signal of revolt throughout the country. On that day all the principal military posts in Upper Burma were attacked, doubtless in pursuance of a definite plan. Next morning my servant woke me rather early with the intimation that “the enemy were at the gate.” At dawn there had been a serious attack on the city of Mandalay, swarming with troops, by a band of some twenty or thirty rebels acting in concert with a few confederates within the walls. Inside the city two unlucky medical subordinates were killed, and within and without incendiary fires were lighted. The fire spread even to the Palace enclosure, and we were in some anxiety for the main buildings, which, once alight, would have burned like matchwood. To the roof of the Hlutdaw mounted the faithful Thwethaukgyi153 Tun Baw and his subordinates, with chatties154 of water and bamboo poles, to quench and beat out flying sparks. Luckily the fire in the enclosure was mastered, and we returned, grimy and thirsty, relieved to find our quarters still standing. As the Palace was crowded with military and civil officers and their establishments, and contained all the records, its destruction would have been very inconvenient.
The fortnight which followed was the longest fortnight of my life. It was crowded with incident, attacks and risings, above all, incendiary fires. Since those days I have ceased to take interest in fires. On the Queen’s Tower155 stood a sentinel, day and night, to sound the alarm. The easiest way to the tower was through my bedroom. Nightly I went to sleep in expectation of being aroused by the fire-bugle and the tramp of men, and I was hardly ever disappointed. Every night we climbed the wooden tower, and saw the blaze of conflagration in town or city. Once I asked the sentry if he had heard any sound of firing. “Well, sir, I thought I did hear one of them there brinjals,”156 was the unexpected answer. Once, again, fire broke out within the Palace fence, but did not spread. This also was well, as close to our quarters were considerable quantities of gunpowder and dynamite. With the early rains at the end of April fires ceased, and Mandalay enjoyed comparative rest.
It was certain that some of the Burmese officials in Mandalay were fomenting seditious movements in the country. Suspicion fell upon the Shwehlan Myowun157 and the Hlethin Atwinwun.158 The Myowun was removed to India in virtue of a warrant issued under the invaluable Regulation III. of 1818. He was taken from his house by Mr. J. G. Scott,159 who had joined the Commission and was on general duty in Mandalay. Their next meeting was at a pwè in Mandalay, on a memorable night in 1897, long after the Myowun had been allowed to return.160 The Hlethin Atwinwun, most plausible and bland of miscreants, believed to have been deeply involved in the massacre of Princes, from whose hands one expected to see blood still dripping, was moved to visit Calcutta of his own accord in response to a general invitation given to Burmese Ministers by Lord Dufferin. He stayed in Calcutta for some years, much against his will, but solely under pressure of peaceful persuasion. He returned much chastened, and lived on good terms with the officers of Government till his death early last year.
In accordance with precedent not always observed, King Mindôn had moved his capital from Amarapura to Mandalay in the late fifties, transferring thither many of the inhabitants and all the entourage of the Court. The site was not in all respects well chosen. Much of the town was below the level of the river in high flood, and had to be protected by an embankment. In the rains of 1886 the Irrawaddy rose to an abnormal height, causing grave anxiety for the safety of the bund.161 One night in August the disaster came. The embankment was breached, and the low-lying parts of the town, as far as the great bazaar (zegyo), were inundated. It was a night of peril and excitement, which taxed to the utmost the energies of the officers in charge of Mandalay, Captain Adamson, Mr. Carter, and Mr. Fforde. Till the river began to fall the town remained under water, and we all went about the streets in boats and launches. As the Burman is an amphibious being, and the people in the area menaced by the flood had ample warning, the loss of life was comparatively small. Searching inquiry established the conclusion that twelve persons were drowned. An even more melancholy loss of life occurred in connection with the distribution of rice to people rendered destitute by the flood. In a crowd in a narrow passage someone fell; the throng pushed forward unknowing, and many people were trampled to death before the press could be stayed.
One of the objects to which from the beginning the Chief Commissioner devoted the full force of his energy and influence was the continuation of the railway from Toungoo to Mandalay. By dint of constant and indefatigable pressure on the higher powers, and by steadfast resistance to the suggestion that a trunk road should first be made, he succeeded in obtaining sanction for this essential work. The survey was actually begun in the rains of 1886; construction was started early in November of that year; and in February, 1889, less than three years after the proclamation of annexation, the line was opened to traffic throughout its whole length. To those who have experienced the delay usually attending the grant of sanction to important and costly proposals, the most remarkable feature of this record is that leave should have been obtained in less than a year from the occupation of Mandalay. The construction of the line afforded work to great numbers of Burmans and others, and proved one of the most pacifying influences in the eastern districts. There were no engineering difficulties, and the climate enabled work to be carried on continuously throughout the year. The opening of the railway was hailed with joy by the Burmans, who expressed their appreciation in characteristic fashion, greeting passing trains with shouts of delight and crowding to travel in the mi-yahta.162 It should never be forgotten that to Sir Charles Bernard alone the Province owes the inception of this work, as indeed in earlier days to his far-seeing policy it owed the construction of the railway from Rangoon to Pegu, and thence to Toungoo. Apparently Sir Charles Bernard furnished an exception to the rule that Indian civilians are persons of narrow horizon.
Among the measures taken at an early stage to facilitate the pacification of Upper Burma was the disarmament of the people. Orders to effect this were issued by Sir Charles Bernard, and some progress was made. It was, however, under Sir Charles Crosthwaite’s rule that, in the face of much opposition, the whole Province was effectually disarmed. No measure has had more excellent results in the prevention of serious disturbances. Though from time to time dacoits and robbers have become possessed of firearms, the thoroughness of the disarmament is proved by the inability of rebels in recent years to obtain guns and powder. The Arms Act has been very strictly enforced in Burma, the number of firearms in each district being strictly limited, with the most beneficial effect.
In the time of King Mindôn and King Thebaw many foreigners, mostly French and Italian, flocked to Mandalay and obtained various appointments in the King’s service. The downfall of the Burmese kingdom deprived these gentlemen of their employment. All had claims against the Burmese Government for arrears of pay, for goods sold, or for work done. Our Government naturally accepted responsibility for the lawful debts of its predecessor. The claims of foreign creditors were investigated as quickly as possible, and those established were discharged. Besides these, there were literally hundreds of other demands for payment of sums alleged to be due from the late Government. These claims were laboriously investigated and reinvestigated, and finally adjudicated upon by the Government of India. Substantial payments were made in settlement of debts sufficiently proved.
In those early days for most officers, military and civil, in Mandalay life was a ceaseless round of strenuous labour. For me it was intensely exciting. All day and often far into the night my time was fully occupied. The enthralling interest of seeing from within and from the centre the making of a new Province, of taking a humble share in the work, was a privilege which falls to few men in a generation. The receipt of reports from districts, the issue of the Chief Commissioner’s orders, daily contact with men of distinction in arms or civil affairs, the early morning ride with my Chief or with a comrade, sometimes even with the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Frederick Roberts, of whose kindness I have the pleasantest recollection, opportunities for the study of Burmese life and character, filled to overflowing the swiftly passing weeks. Bustle and excitement and good fellowship formed an exhilarating combination. All the holiday I had that year was a run down to Rangoon for a day to see my wife and family off to England. But who wanted holidays at such a time, when his work was far more interesting and stimulating than other people’s play? With Stevenson we might say that we had “the profit of industry with the pleasures of a pastime.”
It should hardly be necessary to say that in those early months the outskirts and fringes, the Shan States and the Chin and Kachin Hills, were untouched. It has been suggested that in dealing with the Shan country there was undue delay. Anyone who realizes how much there was to do in the plains, and how impossible it was to do everything at once, recognizes the futility of the suggestion. The Chins were left severely alone. The only attempt made this year to penetrate into the Kachin Hills was the luckless expedition to Pônkan,163 which returned to Bhamo re infecta, to the extreme wrath of Sir Charles Bernard and Sir George White.
The Shan States occupied the whole of the east of Burma, stretching even beyond the Mèkong River. They constituted an integral part of the Burmese Empire, but were administered by their own hereditary chiefs, puny folk who grovelled before the pinchbeck Majesty of Burma, and were on a footing quite inferior to that of native rulers in India. The first of the Shan chiefs to open communication with us was the Sawbwa164 of Hsipaw, or, as the Burmese called it, Thibaw, the State from which the late King derived his title. This enlightened chief had a romantic history which will bear retelling. Some years before, having quarrelled with the King, he fled for his life to Lower Burma. With a few attendants he took up his residence in Kemmendine, a suburb of Rangoon. Presently he came to believe, very likely with good reason, that at the King’s instigation two of his servants were plotting his death. Accustomed in his State to exercise the power of life and death, he tried them in his own mind, found them guilty, and executed them with his own hand, shooting them both. He was tried by the Recorder of Rangoon (Mr. C. F. Egerton Allen165) and a jury, convicted, and sentenced to death. The capital sentence was at once commuted to transportation for life, and the chief began to serve his term in the Rangoon jail, where he was at first set to do the usual hard labour required of prisoners. Mr. Crosthwaite, who was acting as Chief Commissioner, found him in this sad condition, and ordered material alleviation of his lot. The Sawbwa’s faithful Mahadevi,166 who had accompanied her husband, besieged the Chief Commissioner with petitions for his release. Before long Mr. Crosthwaite yielded to her importunity and set free the Sawbwa on condition that he never returned to British territory. He went to the independent State of Karenni. At or about the time of the occupation of Mandalay he made his way back to Thibaw, and after a brief struggle regained possession of his State.
Quite early in 1886 the Sawbwa wrote to me, as Secretary to the Administration, saying that he had received much kindness from the British Government, and desired to be on terms of friendship with us. It has always seemed to me that this was a very magnanimous act. I agree that it also showed much wisdom. The Sawbwa was a man of great intelligence. He had seen and experienced the power of the British Government. No doubt he realized that he was dealing with a Government immeasurably stronger than that which it had displaced, and he saw his interest in being on good terms with it. I think, too, that he had a shining vision of becoming an independent Sovereign in alliance with India. After all these deductions are made, it implied true greatness of soul for a semi-civilized chief to remember the clemency which had spared his life, to forget the dock and the prison cell and work-yard. The correspondence begun by the Sawbwa was continued on cordial terms. Early in 1887, in spite of the passionate entreaties of his advisers, who were filled with gloomy forebodings, Kun Saing came down to Mandalay. This again showed courage and foresight. There was not a British officer or soldier in the length and breadth of the Shan States. Mandalay was full of troops. Though he brought a fairly large retinue, the Sawbwa knew that he was placing himself entirely in our power. His confidence was more than justified. He was received with some ceremony, Mr. J. E. Bridges, C.S., and I, as representatives of Government, meeting him at Aung-bin-le with a squadron of cavalry and a military band. Under this escort the Sawbwa made a triumphant entry into Mandalay, and was allowed even to ride through the Palace grounds. In the King’s time he might sooner have hoped to fly over them. Sir Frederick Roberts and Sir Charles Bernard were among the many spectators of the procession. Accompanied by the Mahadevi, the Sawbwa was suitably lodged in a Win167 outside the city walls. The ladies in his train were somewhat scandalized at being photographed by an enthusiastic amateur before they had time to change out of riding kit. The Sawbwa’s amáts168 continued in a state of alarm all the time they were in Mandalay. Their terror rose almost to frenzy when one day the Chief was taken for a picnic on the river in an Indian Marine vessel. Even the Chief was somewhat relieved when he landed safe and sound on the Hard.
The Sawbwa had the luck to be in Mandalay at the celebration of Queen Victoria’s first Jubilee. Partly in honour of that auspicious occasion, partly in recognition of his confidence and loyalty, the tribute of Thibaw was remitted for ten years, and three small adjacent States, Maing-lôn, Thônzè, and Maing-tôn, to which very shadowy claims had been preferred, were added to the Sawbwa’s territory. Sir Charles Bernard’s action in making over these States has been criticized. Viewing the case calmly after the lapse of years, I humbly think that his decision was wise. The suggestion of the risk of creating a powerful Shan State strong enough to be a menace to Government was plainly ridiculous. If all the Shan States were united under one Chief, he would not have as much power as the ruler of a second-class native State in India. Thibaw with its added sub-States could never be in a position to cause the Government of Burma a moment’s anxiety. On the other hand, a large and comparatively wealthy State is more easily managed and likely to be administered better than a lot of small tracts.
Although Kun Saing was not an ideal ruler; although from time to time complaints were made against him; although, I believe unjustly, even his loyalty was doubted, he was an enlightened and intelligent chief of some subtlety. Twice in later years he visited England, where he had the honour of being received by Her Majesty Queen Victoria. The story, from first to last, has a ring of the Old Testament. The place most of all admired by the Sawbwa was the Crystal Palace (hman-nan-daw). Towards the end of his life, when the first signs of unrest in the East became dimly apparent, he is said to have contracted a secret marriage with the Pakangyi Supaya,169 King Thebaw’s sister. Not that he meditated treason; but if anything should happen, he meant to be on the right side.