Trouble had been brewing in Burmah for some time, and Lord Dufferin decided he would go and see for himself if things were working satisfactorily. The British resident had been withdrawn owing to King Thebaw (chiefly at the instigation of his unprincipled wife) having massacred all the men-kind of the Royal Family with a view to ensuring the stability of his throne. Commercial relations were however maintained, and whispers reached Lord Dufferin of some sort of treaty having been signed between the Burmese and the French, by which the valuable ruby mines with other perquisites which in parliamentary language would be termed accessories, had been leased to a French trading company.
All this pointed to trouble in the future, especially as King Thebaw was known to have expressed himself of the amiable intention of driving “the white devils into the sea,” also it would not be wise to allow British trades to be excluded. This was politely but forcibly pointed out to the King, who was evasive and unsatisfactory. The Secretary of State then gave instructions for an immediate advance on Mandalay. King Thebaw begged for time, but was told nothing but instant submission would be considered, under which circumstances he would be spared and treated properly. He was only allowed a few minutes in which to make up his mind, and it was thanks to this promptness and decided policy of ours that the campaign came to a satisfactory conclusion so quickly and with so little loss of life. But we were not quite out of the wood as China was asking pertinent questions about our future policy; but all was explained and approved in a short time, and a convention signed giving England a free hand in Burmah. In consequence of all this Lord Dufferin started on February 3rd, 1886, to see for himself what was happening. Burmah lying directly on the east of Bengal with a population of four millions, it was regarded as a frontier over which we should keep a jealous eye and some control. Besides, he was anxious that commercial relations should be established with Thibet. Lord William as Military Secretary was in attendance on His Excellency, receiving the medal and clasp, being mentioned in despatches, and promoted to Brevet Lieut.-Colonel. Speaking of the Burmese ladies he said they were most enlightened and independent people, choosing their own husbands and divorcing them also if they wished to do so.
The Viceroy was anxious to have our army considerably increased in India. In Lord Ripon’s time the native army had been reduced, but Lord Dufferin thought owing to changed circumstances a fresh arrangement should be made, and that we should be in a position to launch a strong force of both British and native troops on short notice against any neighbour whose conduct was suspicious and unsatisfactory. He also felt it would be better for the country itself, but all he could get from the Government was an extra 11,000 men. Both Lord Dufferin and the Commander-in-Chief were against the short service system for India, thinking both from the point of utility and economy longer service would be better.
The work of the India Office filtered more or less through the hands of the Military Secretary; he therefore was well posted in all these questions under consideration and discussion.
Especially was he interested in Lord Roberts’ scheme for doing away with the old army canteen, for it was he who inaugurated “The Institute,” where not only could the men get their beer, but food as well; they could sit down comfortably and write letters, play games and read the papers. Places of this sort had been a long-felt want, and they have been great successes and certainly conducive to less drunkenness.
During Lord Dufferin’s time several important steps were taken in the way of military reform, as he expressed himself plainly on the difficulties of military administration under dual control, for while the organisation and commissariat were worked by the superior Government at home, the discipline, training, equipment, and matters of that sort were ruled by the Commander-in-Chief.
Neither were the native troops forgotten, for now in commemoration of the Queen’s Jubilee they received medals for good conduct and any special services, also gratuities in much the same way as the English soldiers.
Lord William, and indeed most of the thinking community in India at this time were anxious as to the result of the higher education of the natives, who, though finding their feet, were not yet able to use them. He felt the education ought to benefit both them and us, but would it?
I have often doubted whether some, even of Lord William’s more intimate friends, fully recognised the more serious side of his character. The world is ever prone to think that brilliancy excludes wisdom, and gaiety is the enemy of common sense. As a matter of fact there was a world of deep feeling and strength of character underlying Lord William’s light-hearted manner.
At a big dinner party at Government House, Bombay, I remember hearing a number of people discussing Lord William, his career, racing successes, deeds of daring, etc., when someone asked the rather unexpected question, “What is his religion?” The then Commander-in-Chief replied, “I don’t believe he’s got one.” This was surprising coming from a man who was both officially and socially in almost daily association with him, proving what I have so often thought that the faces of those around us, even those of our nearest and dearest, may be photographed on our brains, while yet we know little of their minds and hearts; they are sealed books to us.