A Civil Servant in Burma

by Sir Herbert Thirkell White

The story is pitiful enough. These petty risings are of periodical occurrence, and seem to be peculiar to Burma. Three or four have broken out in the last few years. They are never of sufficient importance to cause any anxiety to Government. The sorrow and misery fall on ignorant, misguided peasants who are led astray by some soi-disant Prince. Always a pretender to royal blood, a Minlaung or embryo Prince, with power to work marvels, to bring fire forth from his arm, to kindle mystic lights, or cause gilding to be laid by unseen hands on a pagoda; always fairy-tales of charms against death and wounds. It seems impossible to cure this insane disease of flocking to a pretender’s standard. For the sake of the people themselves, these outbreaks must be suppressed with severity. We used to regard crimes against the State as crimes of the worst character, not as venial offences to be treated tenderly. This is the only kind of sedition which has hitherto troubled Burma. The mass of the people, no less than the educated classes, are too proud to follow demagogues from Bombay or Bengal. They seem to be too intelligent to hanker after representative institutions unsuited to the genius of the race. Recognizing that they already take a great part in the administration, they feel assured that as they show themselves fit, higher offices will be thrown open to their ambition. Enlightened Burmans see that the good of the people is the sole desire of Government, and that this is promoted by due submission to constituted authority, not by liberty of fluent rhetoric. While, therefore, other parts of India were seething with sedition, Burma alone remained unmoved, pursuing its steady march of progress. The speed of the march would be accelerated if Burma had more of its own money to spend, and if it were not often hampered by being made to conform to Indian precedents. All that we knew of sedition was the deportation of certain ring-leaders to Burma, where they were not likely to be regarded with any interest or sympathy.

Towards the close of this year I relinquished charge of the Division on appointment to be Her Majesty’s Commissioner for demarcating the boundary between Burma and China. The settlement of this boundary had long been under discussion between the two Governments. In 1893 had been concluded a Convention fixing a boundary-line very unfavourable to Burma. As already mentioned, Sima went to China and farther south the frontier was drawn perilously near Bhamo. Fortunately, an opportunity of revising this Convention occurred. The new Agreement laid down a line more practical and more in accordance with historical evidence. In the winter of 1897 a Joint Commission was appointed to ascertain and demarcate on the ground the frontier defined in the revised Convention. Mr. E. C. S. George was Assistant Commissioner. My Chinese colleague was General Liu, with several Chinese assistants and a telegraph clerk as interpreter. The Commission assembled at Bhamo as arranged. A few days were spent in settling preliminaries and exchanging courtesies. General Liu and his officers dined with us and we in turn were entertained at a Chinese feast. With some confidence, we set out for the frontier. Mr. George, with one of the Chinese Commissioners, was deputed to demarcate north of the Taiping as far as the high conical peak in latitude 25° 35′, the extreme point mentioned in the Convention. With his customary vigour and decision, overcoming many difficulties, he accomplished his task. General Liu and I proposed to demarcate south of the Taiping. Of the party were Mr. W. Warry[254] of the China Consular Service, Major F. B. Longe[255] of the Survey of India, Captain E. W. M. Norie[256] of the Middlesex Regiment, Intelligence Officer, and Mr. D. W. Rae of the Provincial Service, an officer of tried experience in the Kachin Hills. Captain J. W. L. ffrench-Mullen[257] commanded the modest escort of a hundred rifles of military police.

We marched due east, through the pleasant hill-station of Sinlumgaba, past terraced rice-fields watered by ingenious irrigation works, over shallow streams. With more than the wonted vigour of Chinese officials, General Liu exchanged his sedan-chair for a rough pony, and rode at the head of his ragged escort. The result did not justify the promise of the beginning. Almost at the outset, in circumstances with which I need not weary my readers, we came to a deadlock. Though the case was obviously one for compromise, General Liu, most courteous and most obstinate of men, declined to come to terms. There was no alternative but to refer the matter to our respective Governments, and await their orders. So after a very few days we settled down on the banks of a stream which up to that time had marked the provisional boundary.

Four weary months we spent beside that miserable stream, our escort on the Burmese side, the Chinese escort on the farther bank, occupying our time in sending urgent appeals to Government, and in holding endless conferences with our Chinese colleagues. Our men, disciplined and well equipped, were under canvas, properly rationed and cared for by our medical officer. Among them were a few Kachins recently enlisted, very smart and proud of their new uniforms. Boots were to them at once a source of glory and of pain. Most of them marched bare-footed, carrying the precious but weary burden slung on their shoulders. In a village they put them on and swaggered about for the admiration of the girls. Hardy and brave, these mountaineers are likely to prove excellent material for military police, perhaps even for the regular army. This season they were blooded in a small affair which Mr. H. F. Hertz had with an intrusive body of Chinese. They were among the first to scale the enemy’s stockade. There are now several companies of Kachins in the battalions at Bhamo and Myitkyina. General Liu had his hundred Chinese braves, clad in picturesque rags, undisciplined, armed with the latest thing in rifles, which they had no idea how to use. They carried no tents, and had to house themselves in huts of leaf and bamboo. The comfortable arrangements made for our military police filled them with envy, and they gratefully accepted the attention of our surgeon. We could have enlisted as many as we pleased if we had wished to raise a Chinese battalion. They impressed us as being good raw material and quite well behaved, but in their existing conditions entirely useless as a fighting force. The futility of Chinese troops against a disciplined army has been abundantly exemplified on this frontier. Notwithstanding warnings and alarms in the Press of the presence of formidable arrays trained by German or Japanese instructors, and armed with rifles of the very newest pattern, we have never encountered from Yunnan a Chinese levy capable of standing up to our military police, far less to a British force of all arms.

General Liu was a sturdy old man, who had seen service in the field. Although he succeeded in wasting the whole season, and broke solemn compacts with a serene smile, our relations on the whole were friendly. He wrote me innumerable despatches, adorned with the noblest moral sentiments, but in substance quite inconsequent. This was in accordance with established tradition. Very often he crossed over to our camp and talked for hours, probably for the benefit of his assistants and the egregious telegraph clerk. After drinking a liqueur, he would return to his own side of the stream, conscious of a morning well spent, and sit under a tree, cooling his head after the heat of argument. Among interesting visitors to his camp were Sawbwas of the Chinese Shan States, which lie along the border. These chiefs occupy very much the same position as those of our own Shan States. At times they enjoy greater freedom, at times are more severely repressed, than their brothers in Burma. One of them cherished a beard which Shagpat might have envied; except on occasions of display, he kept it encased in a bag. Incidentally we were surprised by the arrival in our camp of two English travellers, who announced that they had travelled through China, and had just come from Lasa. Their report was received with derision by a correspondent, who thought that Lasa was the storied capital of Tibet, then untrodden ground. Their Lasa is one of the Chinese Shan States. In the course of the season we had a very effective eclipse, and were privileged to witness the Chinese beating gongs and making an incredible noise to frighten away the dragon devouring the sun, a custom of which we had heard, but hitherto had only in part believed to exist.

Such were the trivial incidents which helped to pass the weary days, as we sat in our tents pitched in the midst of bare rice-fields, on a plateau some four thousand feet above the sea. Till the middle of March the climate was cold and bracing, with a sharp frost that covered buckets of water with ice an inch or two thick, at first an object of surprise and admiration to my Burman boy from the plains. We diverted ourselves as best we might, and from first to last were all good friends. By the camp-fire at night many a story was told. But that it was a monotonous time cannot be gainsaid. Even the resource of shooting was almost entirely absent. The hills swarmed with guns, old-fashioned muskets for the most part, and the Kachins very successfully kept down the game. We rode about the country for relaxation, visiting Kachin villages, and making the acquaintance of many Duwas. The most interesting was the blind Chief of Matang (Matin), a man of real influence, who had been of service to Colonel Sladen on his mission to Yunnan in 1868. Once or twice we visited Sinlumgaba, already mentioned as a budding hill-station, and were cordially welcomed by the gunners out for practice at the neighbouring hill of Imlumshan. Somehow or other the months passed, in daily expectation of orders from Government enabling us to make a start. I do not know what was the cause of the delay. At last, at the end of the season, the long-awaited orders came. But it was too late. We parted from General Liu with mutual protestations of respect and affection. In spite of his obstinacy, duplicity, and pious dissertations, I could not help liking the old man.

After writing my report and forming plans for the ensuing season, I acted for a time as Judicial Commissioner of Upper Burma. Towards the end of 1898 the permanent appointment became vacant, owing to the lamented death of Mr. Burgess. I was given the option of succeeding him or of retaining the office of Boundary Commissioner. I accepted the post of Judicial Commissioner. The demarcation of the boundary was successfully carried out in the next two seasons by Sir George Scott and Mr. George.

Judicial work in Upper Burma, which occupied me for the next two years, was interesting but not exciting. The volume of work was sufficient, not beyond the pursuit of zeal and industry. The forensic part was varied and often entertaining, involving many studies of Buddhist law and indigenous customs. Though not a very litigious people, Burmans hate being treated, as they think, unjustly. I have known a case where only a few pence were at stake carried through all the Courts up to Mandalay. Besides hearing appeals and revisions as a High Court, the Judicial Commissioner had to supervise, and, where necessary, instruct the subordinate judiciary. The judicial system was less elaborate than in other Provinces, and many magistrates and Judges retained characteristics acquired under Burmese rule. They did their best, and administered what was perhaps at times a wild kind of justice. They had the Civil Procedure Code thrust on them, me judice, at too early a date, but they bore the infliction with resignation. The Judicial Commissioner’s duties involved a fair amount of administration and a good deal of inspection. With the members of the small but efficient Bar his relations were friendly and cordial.

The Judicial Commissioner held sway within the limits of his powers over all Upper Burma save, mercifully for them, the Shan States and the Chin and Kachin Hills. Inspections included many parts of the Province by me before unvisited. Of these brief visits, full of interest at the time, it were tedious to write at length. A sample may be given. Early one morning I landed at a wayside village to inspect the township court. A graceful little pandal[258] had been erected wherein I was invited to witness a pwè before beginning work. Innocently consenting, I took my seat and the performance began. Dancers came, not single spies, but in battalions. Every village in the neighbourhood had sent its troupe, each eager in succession to display its skill and grace. Except one, all the companies consisted of quite young girls, not professionals, but daughters of the village. The last turn was given by a band of small boys delightfully dressed in green jackets and knickerbockers. This was much more amusing than turning over dusty files and registers. But all good things come to an end, and after some pleasant hours I had reluctantly to obey the call of duty. In the end, I breakfasted at 5 o’clock tea. There is a sequel to the story. On my return to Mandalay I received a petition signed by the girls of one of the troupes. It was more clement than the petition of Salome. The memorialists had danced, and I had been pleased to look and express approval. Such poor skill as they had was due to the training of their saya.[259] This worthy man had fallen on evil days. By the craft and subtlety of his enemies, he had been wrongfully prosecuted for embezzlement, unjustly convicted, and barbarously sentenced to imprisonment. If he stayed in durance, his lessons would be forgotten, and his pupils would be able to dance no more. Would I kindly, as a personal favour to them, order his instant release? The impulse of the natural man was to grant on the spot this ingenuous gracefully worded request. Hardening my heart, I yet examined the record of the trial with every desire to find a reason for intervention. Alas! I could not convince myself that the saya was an injured innocent. All that the girls got by their memorial was a civil answer, in which I tried to explain why their request could not be granted. I hope they gave me credit for the wish to help them.