Having disburdened herself on this one point of righteous indignation, our little Burmese lady became as bright and cheery as a child, wearing her collection of pretty native dresses, which could all have been packed easily into a fair-sized doll's trunk, with singular grace and charm. When the tender arrived to disembark us in Calcutta, her husband came with it, and was speedily introduced.
We had tea with them a few days later in their handsome Calcutta flat, and this gave me the opportunity for a long and interesting talk with the husband, who proved to be a most intelligent and open-minded man.
He spoke of Fielding Hall's delightful book with appreciation tinged by kindly amusement.
"He has been many years in the country, but he still judges us as a foreigner."
When I suggested that the judgment was at least very flattering to the Burmese, this Burmese gentleman laughed, and said:
"Flattering? Yes—but not always quite true. One must see from inside, not from outside, to be quite true in one's judgments; and no foreigner can see from outside. It is a question of race and heredity, not of having spent twenty or thirty years, or even a lifetime, in a foreign land."
I suggested that those who saw from inside only, might also lack some essential factor in forming an accurate judgment.
He agreed heartily to this, adding: "Yes, indeed. The ideal critic must have lived neither too near nor too far—mentally as well as physically; also he must have intuition. Now Mr Fielding Hall is an artist as well as a poet, but in judging my country he lets his intuition run riot sometimes, as well as his imagination."
After reporting this conversation, it is unnecessary to add that my Burmese friend spoke English rather better than I did myself.
We then talked about the position of woman in Burmah, and how much this had been extolled and held up as a object lesson to the rest of the world.