A Monastery.
[CHAPTER XII]
UNDER SIR CHARLES CROSTHWAITE, 1887-1890
Mr. C. H. T. Crosthwaite, soon afterwards Sir Charles Crosthwaite, K.C.S.I., succeeded Sir Charles Bernard. He came enjoying the confidence of the Viceroy, and in just expectation of the support of the Government of India. Taking in hand at once the settlement of the country, in the next four years he devoted his remarkable administrative genius to the completion of the task. I cannot becomingly express in full my humble appreciation and admiration of Sir Charles Crosthwaite and the great work which he accomplished in Burma. I hope it is not presumptuous of me to say that as an administrator he ranks in the very highest class of Indian Statesmen, and is at this moment by far the most distinguished member of our Service. Never sparing himself, in those eventful years he initiated, guided, directed, controlled. In his officers he inspired enthusiasm; we would have fallen in harness to serve him or win his approval. We were always sure of strong and efficient support, and had no fear, if things went wrong, of being thrown to the dogs. Sir Charles Crosthwaite came to a land still torn by internal strife; he left it a peaceful and prosperous Province. I speak of what I know, for from first to last it was my privilege to work immediately under him, to see the pulse of the machine. Let those who wish to understand turn to the book[192] wherein the story of the pacification is modestly told by the chief actor in the drama.
Early in March, 1887, the Chief Commissioner came to Mandalay, retaining for a short time the separate Secretariat for Upper Burma. Wisely distrusting the sanitary conditions of the palace, he took up his quarters in a small house built on the city wall, intended as the residence of a military police officer. It consisted of two or three rooms under one of the pyathats.[193] On the first evening after the Chief Commissioner’s arrival we waited some time for dinner, as the roof of the cook-room was blown off by a sudden gale. Since those days the building has expanded, and has become a respectable Government House. Thanks to the good taste of the Chief Engineer, Mr. H. J. Richard, Burmese style has been preserved. The pyathat is the centre of a range of buildings which might be a monastery or a section of the Palace. Thus the house is a picturesque feature in the landscape, not an outrage. With the moat and a stretch of green lawn on one side, and pretty gardens on the other, commanding a fine view of Mandalay Hill and the rugged western hillocks, it has every æsthetic quality. It may be whispered that it is more beautiful to see than comfortable to inhabit.
Sir Charles Crosthwaite’s first tour was undertaken for the purpose of visiting the Ruby Mines district, then recently occupied. A military station had been established on a lofty, somewhat bleak plateau, and honoured with the name of Bernardmy̆o. The civil headquarters were at Mogôk, the centre of the ruby mines. Reaching Ky̆an-hny̆at by steamer, we rode to Sagadaung, at the foot of the hills, breakfasting midway with Mr. R. C. Stevenson,[194] the subdivisional officer. The Chief Commissioner’s party consisted of the Personal Assistant[195] and myself. At Sagadaung it was found that all the servants, panic-stricken at the thought of plunging into savage wilds, had refused to leave the steamer. The kit and stores had come on, but the only servants with us were my Madrasi boy and a few chapràsis.[196] The Personal Assistant was equal to the occasion. He invited all the officers of the Station to dine with the Chief Commissioner, from whom the state of affairs was concealed. “And,” said he, “as our men are rather tired, will you let your cooks help to get dinner ready?” These assistants he supplied with stores and necessaries, and dinner was successfully achieved. Next morning we rode up the hill to Bernardmy̆o, where we were kindly made honorary members of the mess and lodged as handsomely as Service conditions allowed. I slept in a commissariat godown,[197] with the wind, cold even in April, whistling through the openings in the boarded floor. After a day or two we rode on to Mogôk, through lovely evergreen forest which still shades the bridle-path. There we were guests of the Deputy Commissioner, the late Mr. G. M. S. Carter, who cherished us till we reached the river and our steamer once more. Never, I ween, not even in the Spartan days of Sir Arthur Phayre, did a Chief Commissioner make an official tour in his Province with only a third of a boy and a stray chapràsi or two as bearer,[198] khitmagar,[199] and cook.
The Ruby Mines Company was still in embryo, but the syndicate out of which it was evolved had established a footing, and Mr. F. Atlay, who still manages its affairs, was already installed. The quest for rubies was prosecuted by the hereditary miners, who worked by primitive native methods. In the King’s time rubies were, naturally, a royal monopoly, and any stone of exceptional value was a royal perquisite. The most illustrious stone on record was called, after its finder, Chin Nga Mauk. The lucky man himself took it to the Palace, and was privileged to lay it at the King’s feet. As a reward he was allowed to take away a cart-load of whatever he liked from the Palace. The legend of the discovery of the mines may be told. Passing through a desolate, unpeopled land, a wayfarer saw a vulture swoop from a solitary rock and pick up a piece of, as it seemed to wayfarer and apparently to vulture, raw red flesh. Surprised at such a phenomenon in a waste place, the traveller investigated, and found the earth strewn with lovely glittering red stones, thenceforth known as the rubies of commerce. The truth of the story is proved by the existence to this day of the rock on which the vulture perched. Times have changed, and rubies are no longer picked up on the surface. Nor are they found embedded in the stone walls of Aladdin’s caves. They are extracted by washing from ruby-bearing earth (by̆ôn), which is borne in trucks to the Company’s washing sheds. Each truck contains, I suppose, about twelve cubic feet of earth; the average value is about one shilling. But any load may produce a stone worth a King’s ransom. Besides the scientific operations of the company, mining by native methods is still practised. The rights of hereditary miners are preserved. They pursue the quest after the manner of their fathers, on payment of a moderate licence-fee. The very poor, mostly women, may glean in the beds of streams without any restriction. Ruby-mining was a profitable business, with a pleasing element of chance. Some lucky miners amassed large fortunes. Even the common people were affluent. The smallest coin current in the bazaar was a silver two-anna (2d.) piece. Coppers were unknown. In later days the Chief Commissioner or Lieutenant-Governor’s receptions at Mogôk were ceremonies of much splendour. Followed by scores of mounted men who came to meet him, he rode through the town under triumphal arches gleaming with silken banners, past lines of cheering spectators, groups of dancers, and cymbal-clashing musickers, while pretty, shy Shan girls peeped from the casements. An incident of one of these visits, though it has nothing to do with rubies or ceremonious receptions, may be recorded by way of comic relief. The scene was the parade-ground; the occasion, an inspection of the Military Police Battalion; the time, the end of summer. The ground was wet and slippery from an early unexpected shower. After the accustomed evolutions, the Commandant, an exceptionally smart, well-turned-out officer, came galloping up to the Lieutenant-Governor, and as he essayed to pull up within a yard of that august personage his pony slipped and deposited him in the mud at his feet. Nowise abashed, he rose, gravely saluted: “Would you like to see anything else, sir?” “No, thank you,” was the equally grave reply. And the incident closed, to their credit, be it told, not one of the staff moving a muscle. As the story goes, they waited to laugh till they got home.
On our return from the first visit, our baggage borne on mules, we rode to Thabeik-kyin along a mule-track following approximately the line of the present road. The narrow path wound through and about the hills, often with a yawning precipice on one hand, a wall of rock on the other. But that the road is broad and smooth, in many respects it resembles the old path. Ponies have still a horrid habit of hugging the cliff’s edge, and one rides with a leg suspended over the abyss. To meet a train of pack-bullocks charging down the pass is a trying experience. So, too, is the ascent in a motor-car with a driver learning his work. Green forest covers the hillsides and luxuriates in the valleys, brilliant with many-coloured blooms. The cicala fills the open spaces with sound, so great a noise by so small a body. It was then all new and full of interest. The beauty of the landscape charmed every step of the march. Our guide was a handsome ruffian, Bo Aw, as picturesque as the scene, who rode ahead in Shan dress, his flapping straw hat decked with gay streamers. Afterwards he returned to the life of a dacoit, and, I fear, came to a bad end.
Soon after this, the Mandalay Secretariat ceased to exist as a separate branch, one Secretariat, with a Chief Secretary, Secretary, Junior Secretary, and Assistant Secretary, being constituted in Rangoon for the whole Province. Mr. Symes became Chief Secretary, but, worn out by many labours, went on leave, Mr. Donald Smeaton[200] coming from India to act for him. I became Secretary, and Mr. C. G. Bayne, Junior Secretary. The anomalous post of Special Commissioner was abolished, Mr. Hodgkinson going to Moulmein as Commissioner. Mr. Smeaton was not new to the Province. Some years before he had come to Burma to fill the newly created office of Revenue Secretary and Director of Agriculture. In that capacity he had devised and organized the Supplementary Survey system, afterwards called the Land Records Department. This was, I believe, an entirely original scheme, of which the design was to keep land records and maps up to date, year by year, so as to obviate the labour of re-survey whenever a Settlement had to be revised. In theory the plan was admirable; its practical success has not been perfect, partly, I think, because the establishment was inadequate. Mr. Smeaton also organized and set to work the first regular Settlement Parties in Burma. From 1887 onwards he served as Chief Secretary, Commissioner, and Financial Commissioner, failing, however, in the end to attain the high office for which his rare abilities seemed to designate him. The Chief Secretary took over the political department, and for a time my association with the most interesting part of the administration was severed. I had plenty to do in my own branches.