On the morning of October 30th, as soon as I was dressed, I saw Thangal Major outside my hut. I heard afterwards that, directly my decision had been communicated to the Durbar, he had volunteered to come out, and as he said, bring me in. When we had had a little friendly conversation, he with his usual bluntness, which I did not object to, asked me to go in, saying that the Wankai Rakpa[1] would meet me, the Jubraj being ill. I firmly declined, saying that I would wait till he recovered. He then assured me that the real cause was the critical state of the Jubraj’s wife. I doubted the truth, but a lady being in the case, courtesy and good feeling demanded that I should accept the statement as an excuse, and I therefore said I would leave, if the Wankai Rakpa and another prince met me on behalf of the Jubraj. This was at once agreed to, and I therefore marched off, being met in great state by the two princes, who rode by my side all the way. As I neared the capital, a vast crowd came out to meet me, the numbers increasing at every step, and I was received with every demonstration of respect and sympathy, many of those who knew my wife showing a delicacy of feeling that greatly moved me. Old Thangal, when I met him, spoke very kindly on the subject, saying, “It is sad to see you return alone, and we know what it must be to you.” Numberless were the enquiries by name after all the children. At last I reached the Residency, where my old attendants were ready to do all they could for me. It was something like home, old books, furniture, children’s toys, still here and there, and in a corner of the verandah my little girl’s litter, in which she was carried out morning and evening, but the faces that make home were away.
I mention the foregoing incident regarding the Jubraj, as it is a good example of the small difficulties connected with etiquette, that one has to contend with in a place like Manipur. The question is far more important than it seems. Any relaxation in a trifling matter like this, seems to Asiatics a sign that you are disposed to relax your vigilance in graver questions. Indeed, to a native chief, etiquette itself is a very grave matter, and many terrible quarrels have arisen from it. I well remember a slight being offered to the Viceroy, because a Rajah fancied he had not received all the honours due to him.
I found a crop of small difficulties awaiting me in Manipur, the Durbar, and especially old Thangal, had got out of hand, and had to be pulled up a little. There were numberless complaints from British subjects of petty oppression which had to be listened to, and I felt it rather hard having this unpleasant duty to perform just after my return; but it was duty, and had to be done, and by dint of firmness, combined with courtesy, I soon set things right, but Thangal Major rather resented the steady pressure which I found it necessary to apply.
Before leaving Manipur in 1881, I had sent off some Manipuris to Cawnpore to learn carpet making and leather work. When I returned, these men had long been making use of their knowledge in Manipur, and I found that first-rate cotton carpets and boots, shoes and saddles of English patterns, had been manufactured for the Maharajah, the workmanship being in all cases creditable, and in that of the carpets most excellent.
I tried to send men to Bombay to learn to make art pottery, and the Maharajah was at one time anxious about it, but the correspondence with the School of Art was conducted in so leisurely a manner on their side, extending over nearly a year, that he got tired of it, and declined to send the men. I had a little pottery made in Manipur, which I brought home with me, the only existing specimens of an art that died out in its infancy.
I had several pieces of silver work made to try the mettle of the Manipuri silversmiths, one bowl, a most perfect copy of a Burmese bowl with figures on it in high relief, was beautifully executed, and still excites the admiration of all who see it.
The Mussulman population of Manipur, was descended from early immigrants from India, Sylhet, and Cachar, who had married Manipuri wives; they numbered about 5000, and were rather kept under by the Durbar, but to nothing like the same extent that Hindoos would have been under a Mussulman Government. Formerly, they had to prostrate themselves before the Rajah like other subjects, but they having represented that this was against their religion, Chandra Kirtee Singh excused them from doing it, allowing a simple salaam instead. They, (probably owing to their dependent position), were not such an ill-mannered and disagreeable set as their co-religionists of Cachar, and were generally quiet and inoffensive. The headman of the sect received the title of Nawab from the Rajah. These men had a grievance to bring forward when I returned, and I procured them some redress.
I visited the Maharajah in due course, and found him better than I expected, and I took an early opportunity of announcing my return to the Burmese authorities in the Kubo valley, receiving civil letters in return. Unfortunately, I found that great soreness still prevailed in Manipur on account of the non-settlement of the Kongal case, and I was constantly on the alert lest evil results should follow, as I always suspected old Thangal of a desire to make reprisals.
When I had a day to spare, I went to see my experimental garden and fir wood, at Kang-joop-kool, finding everything in a flourishing state, the wood a tangled thicket, with foxgloves and other English flowers growing in wild profusion. One morning when walking out, I saw some prisoners going to work, and as they passed me, one or two looked as if they would like to speak. I accordingly passed by them again to give them an opportunity, when a man ran up and complained that he was imprisoned without any definite period being assigned, a common practice in Manipur. Another man, whom he called as a witness, spoke good Hindoostani, and on my enquiring where he learned it, he said he was a Manipuri from Sylhet. I sent for him directly I got home, and he came with Thangal Major, and, as he was a British subject, and the Durbar had no right to imprison him, I sent for a smith, and had his irons struck off in my presence. I spoke quietly, but firmly to the Minister, but showed him plainly that I would not stand having British subjects imprisoned except by my orders. The man’s offence was not paying a debt for which he was security, and the punishment was just, according to the laws of Manipur, and would have been in England before 1861.