FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[9]"Legend of Gaudama," vol. ii., p. 319. (Trübner, 1880.)[10]Ibid., p. 242.[11]Ibid., p. 303.[12]"Legend of Gaudama," vol. ii., p. 303.[13]A summary of the measures taken in Burma is given in the report of "The Committee appointed by the Philippine Commission to investigate the use of opium and the traffic therein," which deals with the evidence in a sane and judicial manner. (See "The Province of Burma," by Alleyne Ireland, F.R.G.S., vol. ii., p. 845et seq.)[14]Mr. G. M. S. Carter had served in the Police Department in British Burma for eleven years and had made a reputation for ability and knowledge of the people. In June, 1886, he was appointed to be an Assistant Commissioner and posted to Upper Burma. Mr. Carter was one of the best executive officers in the Commission, and his death in 1890 was a severe loss to the Government and a sorrow to all of us, his comrades and friends.[15]Mr. Todd Taylor, C.S.I., C.I.E., died last year, after acting as Financial Commissioner of Burma.[16]Amongst others, Mr. Burgess, Mr. Fryer, Mr. Symes, and Mr. Carter were asking for leave. Of these only Mr. Fryer (Sir Frederic Fryer, K.C.S.I.) is alive. The others are dead many years.[17]Mr. Smeaton was at this time serving in the North-Western (now United) Provinces of India.

[9]"Legend of Gaudama," vol. ii., p. 319. (Trübner, 1880.)

[10]Ibid., p. 242.

[11]Ibid., p. 303.

[12]"Legend of Gaudama," vol. ii., p. 303.

[13]A summary of the measures taken in Burma is given in the report of "The Committee appointed by the Philippine Commission to investigate the use of opium and the traffic therein," which deals with the evidence in a sane and judicial manner. (See "The Province of Burma," by Alleyne Ireland, F.R.G.S., vol. ii., p. 845et seq.)

[14]Mr. G. M. S. Carter had served in the Police Department in British Burma for eleven years and had made a reputation for ability and knowledge of the people. In June, 1886, he was appointed to be an Assistant Commissioner and posted to Upper Burma. Mr. Carter was one of the best executive officers in the Commission, and his death in 1890 was a severe loss to the Government and a sorrow to all of us, his comrades and friends.

[15]Mr. Todd Taylor, C.S.I., C.I.E., died last year, after acting as Financial Commissioner of Burma.

[16]Amongst others, Mr. Burgess, Mr. Fryer, Mr. Symes, and Mr. Carter were asking for leave. Of these only Mr. Fryer (Sir Frederic Fryer, K.C.S.I.) is alive. The others are dead many years.

[17]Mr. Smeaton was at this time serving in the North-Western (now United) Provinces of India.

It was about this time (May, 1887) that the news of the surrender of the Limbin prince to Mr. Hildebrand, and the submission of the influential Sawbwa of Möngnai came to remove some of our anxieties. Lord Dufferin telegraphed his congratulations to me: "These circumstances," he said, "greatly clear the air." They proved in effect that we need not apprehend any very serious opposition in the Shan States, and that there was no risk in holding that country with a small force during the rains, on which point there were apprehensions in some quarters.

Good news came also from Upper Burma. A noted gang, led by men of more force than the ordinary leaders of dacoits possessed, had surrendered to Major Ilderton, who commanded a post at Wundwin, in the Meiktila district. The gang was known by the name of the place, Hmawwaing, where it made its retreat, and it had sustained several severe attacks before the leaders gave in, of whom two had been village headmen and the third had been a Government servant under the King. The three had long worked together; and before the annexation they had dominated the northern part of Meiktila. They were pardoned, and provision made for their support. Two of them absconded. They soon found, however, that their influence was gone. The country was weary of them. One (Maung Kala) died of fever; a second (Myat Hmon) gave himself up again. The third (Maung Ohn), the most educated and best bred of them, had remained quiet.

It was now necessary for me to return to Upper Burma, but I had not yet met Mr. Tucker, the Commissioner of the Eastern Division. As the rains were beginning, and the extension of the railway beyond Toungoo had not been opened, I asked Mr. Tucker to meet me at Toungoo. I couldnot spare time to march up to his headquarters. The chief engineer of the Mandalay Railway, Mr. Buyers, was pushing on the line as fast as he could. He had many difficulties to contend with. The Burmans, although coming readily to the work, were new to it. The working parties had to be protected; the heavy forest in some divisions of the line had to be cleared. I had seen Mr. Buyers and satisfied myself that work was going on well.

I met Mr. Tucker, and received from him a fairly satisfactory account of his division. Meiktila and Yamèthin were almost quiet. Pyinmana was a difficult tract to reduce to order. It is described in theBurma Gazetteeras "one large forest with the exception of the immediate surroundings of Pyinmana town and small patches of cultivation near the villages and streams." The station had been for some months almost besieged by dacoits, who took cover close to our lines. So much so that the postmaster, who came from a peaceful district, put up a notice closing the post-office as "urgent private affairs" compelled him to leave. It needed a good deal of peaceful persuasion to induce him to remain at his work.

In April, May, and June the troops of Sir William Lockhart's command, aided to some extent by the police, were very active. The forests and all the hiding-places were thoroughly explored and for the time at least cleared of dacoits. Meanwhile the civil officers, under the energetic direction of Mr. H. St. G. Tucker, vigorously disarmed the district, making full use of the men of local influence. By the middle of June, when Mr. Tucker met me, only small bands were left, who were forced to conceal themselves, and there was little trouble afterwards in this district. But the difficult country of the Pegu Yoma between Pyinmana and the Magwè district of the Southern Division continued to harbour dacoits until 1890.

I returned to Rangoon from Toungoo and left for Upper Burma on the 10th of June. Going by the river, I stopped at all the towns on the way up, seeing the officers, inspecting every part of the administration, and discussing affairs.

In Lower Burma the towns and villages showed their wonted comfort and prosperity, the boats were as numerous as ever, and the rice and other produce was waiting inabundance at the landing-places for the steamers. The disturbances had had little effect on trade.

The country inland to the west of the river was still harassed by predatory gangs in the wilder parts, and the police did not appear able to suppress them.

There was no need, however, for the aid of the soldiers. I was able to reduce the number of outposts occupied by troops, and I would have reduced them still more, but that the General Commanding in Lower Burma was unable to provide barrack-room for the men occupying them. It was clearly time to take up the question of reducing the garrison of Lower Burma.

It was not a good thing to accustom the civil officers, the police, or the people to depend on detachments of troops scattered over the country, and it certainly was not good for the discipline and efficiency of the men. The conduct of the soldiers, however, was excellent, and the people welcomed them. I found a general unwillingness to lose the sense of security which their presence gave; and possibly also the profits of dealings with them. The Indian soldiers and the Burmans were on excellent terms. Even where the men were quartered in the monasteries the Pongyis did not want them to leave.[18]

At Thayetmyo the region of dacoit gangs and disturbances was reached. The main trouble appeared to be in what may be termed Bo Swè's country, which lay on the right bank of the river, reaching from the old British Burma boundary to a line going westward with a slight southerly curve from Minhla to the Arakan mountains. Part of the trouble I thought arose from the fact that the jurisdiction of the Lower Burma command had been extended so as to cover this country, while the civil jurisdiction belonged to the Minbu district of Upper Burma. This impeded free communication between the civil and military authorities. I transferred the tract to Thayetmyo, made it a subdivision of that district, and put a young and energetic officer in charge. The tract across the river was similarly treated.

I was now in Upper Burma again. Minbu on both sides of the river (it extended to both banks at this time) was very disturbed. Ôktama's power was not broken. Villages were attacked and burnt, and friendly headmen were murdered.

Pagan, the next district, was not much better; and divided as it was by the river, and containing the troublesome Yaw tract, the civil authorities were somewhat handicapped. From Pagan I crossed over to Pakokku, even then a fine trading town and the centre, as it still is, of the boat-building industry. The town in 1887 had a population of about 5,000, which had increased in 1901 to 19,000. It was well laid out with handsome avenues of tamarind-trees. Standing on good sandy soil and well drained, it was a fine site for the headquarters of a district.

The town and its neighbourhood had been skilfully governed by a lady, the widow of the old Governor, who had died thirty years before. Her son, a very fat and apparently stupid youth, was titular town-mayor (Myo-thugyi); but because he was suspected of playing false, through fear of the insurgents, he had been superseded, and a stranger from Lower Burma appointed as magistrate.

The wisdom of importing men from Lower Burma was always, to my mind, doubtful, and in this case was peculiarly open to objection, as it was a slight to the widow, who was undoubtedly an able woman, and had joined the British cause from the first.

It was said that in 1885 she was ordered by the King's Government to block the channel by sinking boats, of which there were always plenty at Pakokku; she let all the Upper Burma craft go—for a consideration, of course—and sunk some boats which belonged to British Burma. She was alleged to have made a thousand pounds by this transaction, which is very characteristic of the East.

I called on this old lady and had some conversation with her, and I would gladly have seen more of her, as she appeared to be a woman of some power. It was arranged to remove the Lower Burman magistrate and to send an English Assistant Commissioner, who would work through the hereditary Governor and his mother.

At Myingyan, the next station, I found the best of my officers was Captain Hastings,[19]the commandant of the military police, who was fast making his men into a very fine battalion, with which before long he did excellent service. I waited at Myingyan to see General Sir Robert Low, who had been at Mandalay. He was satisfied about the progress in his district, except in the country about Salin, Ôktama's country, and in Taundwingyi, which he said was full of dacoits, and would probably be their last abiding-place.

It was a true prophecy, as I learnt to my sorrow. Partly owing to the very difficult country on its east border, and partly, perhaps even more, to the incompetence and weakness of the local officers, this district became my shame and despair. But at this time I had not been over the Taundwingyi country.

My next halt was at Myinmu, the headquarters of a subdivision of the Sagaing district, on the right bank, about thirty miles below Sagaing. Mr. Macnabb, a young soldier who had lately joined the Commission, was there as subdivisional officer. His report was not very satisfactory. Myinmu, for some reason or other, was especially obnoxious to the insurgents and was repeatedly attacked. Even quite recently there has been some trouble at Myinmu, although it is now a station on the railway which goes from Sagaing to the Chindwin.

Ava, which is a little further up on the opposite side of the river, was at that time a separate district. But except that it was the old capital of Burma, and was a favourite ground for dacoits, there was no reason for keeping a Deputy Commissioner there, and little ordinary work for him. It was soon to be added to the Sagaing district, to which it still belongs. There were no troops at this time at Ava; the Indian military police were good.

I found the experiment of training Burmans as military police still going on in Ava. It will be remembered that the first idea was to recruit half the force from the Burmans and other local races. The commandant called my attention to the gross waste of money that was involved in this experiment. The Burman officers were hopelessly unfit. One had been imported from Lower Burma; the other was a half-caste, a poor specimen of his kind in every way. They were disbanded as soon as possible.

Shwètakyat promontory opposite Sagaing.

The dacoits hung about the country under the Ava Deputy Commissioner for a long time. His jurisdiction did not extend over more than three hundred and fifty square miles, but it was harried by three noted guerilla leaders—Shwè Yan, who occupied the country on the borders of the Kyauksè and Ava districts; Bo Tok, who frequented the borders of Ava and Myingyan; and the third, Shwè Yan the second, who ravaged the south-west part of the district. The two last were killed by British troops. The first and the most formidable of the three was reported to have disappeared.

It may be mentioned here, as illustrating the persistence of the insurgents and the apparently endless nature of the task, which demanded all our patience and perseverance, that in the spring of 1888 Ava was as bad as ever. There were nineteen well-known leaders—"named varieties," as a gardener might call them—who, in the words of the official report, "held the countryside in terror." Early in May, Shwè Yan, whose disappearance had been reported, was again on foot with a strong body of followers. A force of troops and police which encountered him lost two British officers.

From Ava I went over to Sagaing and inspected the station and the police, and crossed to Mandalay the same day. Sir George White met me on landing, and I rode up with him to my quarters on the wall.

This journey had occupied me eighteen days. I left Rangoon on the 10th of June, and reached Mandalay on the 28th. But the time had been well spent in gaining information and in making or renewing acquaintance with the district officers. I had inspected all stations on the way, and had been able to dispose of many questions on the spot. When I was not on shore, the office work and correspondence kept me busy. My secretary and I had to write on the skylight of the boat, as there was no accommodation of any kind except a few dressing-rooms below, which in that climate and at that season were suffocating.

FOOTNOTES:[18]The same is true of the British soldier, of whom in war or peace his countrymen cannot be proud enough. When, after the barracks were built at Mandalay, a regiment (the Royal Munster Fusiliers) was ordered to leave a great group of monasteries, the abbots and chief Pongyis came to me with a petition to let the soldiers remain where they were.[19]Now Major-General Edward Spence Hastings, C.B., D.S.O., Commanding the Mandalay Brigade. The Myingyan Battalion was in 1892 formed into the 4th Burma Battalion under its old commandant.

[18]The same is true of the British soldier, of whom in war or peace his countrymen cannot be proud enough. When, after the barracks were built at Mandalay, a regiment (the Royal Munster Fusiliers) was ordered to leave a great group of monasteries, the abbots and chief Pongyis came to me with a petition to let the soldiers remain where they were.

[19]Now Major-General Edward Spence Hastings, C.B., D.S.O., Commanding the Mandalay Brigade. The Myingyan Battalion was in 1892 formed into the 4th Burma Battalion under its old commandant.

Nothing has been said as yet about roads and communications, the most powerful of all aids in pacifying a disturbed country. The plains of India in most provinces lend themselves to military operations, and for the greater part of the year an army can move about at will. In Burma the long and heavy rains, the numerous streams, and the extensive and dense forests and jungles, make campaigning very difficult. The country, in Sir George White's words, quoted before, "is one huge military obstacle."

Sir Charles Bernard had not lost sight of this part of his work. With the aid of Mr. Richard, of the Public Works Department, a most able superintending engineer, as much as possible had been done. No time had been lost.

In Mandalay itself, in 1886, fifteen miles of road had been re-formed, the bridges renewed and metal consolidated, and in the country generally more than two hundred miles of roads had been taken in hand and partially finished. Tracks one hundred feet in width had been cleared of forest and jungle between many of the military posts, a work in which the military officers took a large part. As our occupation of the country became closer, more roads and more tracks were called for. These forest tracks can hardly be called engineering works, but they were of first importance for the free movement of troops. The time during which road-making can be carried on is short in Burma, owing to the great rainfall. The dry zone in the centre of the province, where the climate is no impediment, is precisely the country where roads are least necessary.

Eastern Governments as a rule trouble themselves very little about roads and public buildings of a useful kind. In Burma there were pagodas and monasteries innumerable. But roads and prosaic buildings, such as court-houses and jails, received little attention. Such a thing as a trunk road did not exist.

Controlling the engineering establishment in Lower Burma there was a chief engineer, who was also Public Works secretary. His hands were full. To ask him to supervise the work in the new province as well was to lay on him an impossible task and to ensure the waste of much money. A chief engineer for Upper Burma was appointed at my request, and Major Gracey, R.E., who was selected for the post, had arrived in Burma. I have met with few men who had more power of work and of getting their subordinates to work, or who took greater care of the public money, than Major Gracey.

On his arrival, in consultation with Colonel Cumming, the expenditure was examined and the whole situation discussed in Rangoon, and afterwards both officers met me in Mandalay. There was much difficulty in obtaining a sufficient number of engineers and a competent engineering establishment. The Indian Public Works service in the higher grades is recruited in England, and the subordinates are appointed in India. Service in Burma was for many reasons unpopular with men trained in India. The other provinces were not anxious to part with their best men. Hence the men who came to Burma were frequently unwilling and sometimes not very efficient.

The difficulty was to apportion the existing establishment as fairly as possible between the two provinces, so as to give Major Gracey a fair number of men with Burman experience.

With Major Gracey's help everything went on well, and as fast as possible. A list of the work done in 1887 would fill a page. The grant for military works in that year was £317,500. Permanent barracks at Mandalay and Bhamo, and a great number of temporary buildings to accommodate troops, were erected all over Burma in the first year of Major Gracey's tenure. Many of the temporarybuildings were put up by military and civil officers; but after a time, all military buildings were carried out by the Public Works Department.

The Civil Works grant was nearly £350,000.

The provinces had no court-houses, no jails, no places of detention at the police stations, and no barracks or accommodation for the military police. Two larger jails, one at Mandalay for eight hundred prisoners and one at Myingyan for one thousand, although not yet completed, were already occupied. Of three smaller prisons at Monywa, Pagan, and Minbu, one was finished and two partially, but enough to be of use. At ten stations small lock-ups were being built for persons arrested by the police. The jails and lock-ups were pressed on, because the existing arrangements for confining prisoners inherited from the Burmese Government were insufferable, and in some cases inhuman.

Provision had to be made for housing some thousands of military police. At the headquarters of eighteen districts accommodation had to be provided for about half a battalion, with hospitals, guard-rooms, magazines, and cook-houses. These buildings, especially the hospitals with accommodation for 8 per cent. of the strength, were constructed of good permanent material. The barracks, officers' quarters, stables, and the like were built in the cheapest way consistent with comfort and health. The condition of the country in a year or two would permit, it was expected, of a reduction of the military police force, or at least of a change in its disposition; the barrack accommodation would not be permanently wanted, but the hospitals could be used for the civil population.

Added to all this building work, roads to the extent of five hundred miles, of which one hundred and fifty were hill roads, were laid out and made passable, raised and bridged in most cases, and in some places metalled. These works were scattered over the province from Bhamo to the old frontier of British Burma. In designing the roads it was remembered that the great trunk lines of communication were the great rivers in the centre and west of the province, and the railway in the east. All the main roads were designed to be feeders to the rivers or the rails. In additionto the larger roads, many hundreds of miles of tracks and rough district roads were cut through the forest and jungles, and a survey was begun, to open up the difficult Yaw country, through which we had afterwards to push troops. (videChapter XXI.). I think it may be claimed that our engineers did their duty.

The middle of Upper Burma, the dry zone, as it is called, differs in climatic conditions from the country to the south and north of it. The rainfall is deficient, and droughts, sometimes severe, are not unknown.

The Burmese rulers were capable of large conceptions, but they lacked skill; and their great irrigation schemes, attempted without sufficient science, were foredoomed to failure. The largest works of this class existing, when we took the country, were the Mandalay and Shwèbo Canals, which were of little use, as even where the construction was not faulty they had been allowed to go to ruin. In Kyauksè Salin (Minbu district) and elsewhere there were extensive canals of a less ambitious nature, which although neglected were still of much service. Even in the turmoil of 1886 and the pressure of what was in fact a state of war, Sir Charles Bernard found time to attend to the irrigation systems; and as soon as a skilled engineer could be obtained from India, and funds allotted, the work of irrigation was tackled in earnest. The first business was to examine the existing systems and see whether they could be made use of. Before I left Burma in December, 1890, I had the pleasure of knowing that this work was in hand, and that further deterioration from neglect had been stopped, and also that new schemes were under consideration.

The expenditure in Upper Burma at this time was very great. An army of fourteen thousand men cannot be kept in the field for nothing. The military police force was a second army, and there was besides all the cost of the civil administration. The incoming revenue was in comparison insignificant. In 1886-7 it had been £250,000 in round numbers, in 1887-8 it rose to £500,000—not enough to cover the public works expenditure alone.

It was not wonderful, therefore, that the Government of India, whose finances at the time were by no means happy, should be nervous about the expenditure. They were mostgentle and considerate in the matter; and although it was evident that our success in Burma would be measured in England mainly by the financial results, no pressure was put upon me to get in revenue, and I felt the pinch chiefly in the difficulty of getting an adequate and competent engineering establishment and immediate funds for works, the urgency of which was less apparent to the Government of India than to me on the spot. With Lord Dufferin's backing I obtained what I wanted, and I hope I did not exhibit an indecent importunity.

I had considered and reported to the Finance Department all possible means of raising the revenue. On the whole, my conclusion was that we had to look rather to existing sources than to new taxation, which in a country not yet completely subdued and of which we had imperfect knowledge would have been inexpedient. The excise revenue might have been made profitable, but we were debarred from interfering for the time with the regulations made and sanctioned (somewhat hastily, perhaps) by the Government of India, immediately after the annexation.

Under the circumstance, the best and quickest method of improving the financial conditions was clearly the reduction of the field force. This was already under discussion. The initial step had been taken and one regiment of Native Infantry had been sent back to India. The military police had begun to relieve the troops in the outposts. The Major-General, Sir George White (who in addition to his merits as a gallant leader and good strategist, was an able administrator), was careful always of public money, and in perfect accord with the civil administration. He desired his men to be relieved as quickly as possible.

It was a matter, however, in which it was unsafe to rush, and in which a heavy responsibility rested on me. Events were happening from time to time which warned us that we were not yet out of the wood. On the 3rd of June, for example, the troops at Pyinulwin, forty miles from Mandalay, led by Colonel May, had attacked a stockade held on behalf of the Setkya Mintha, a pretender. Darrah, Assistant Commissioner, was killed, an officer named Cuppage badly wounded, and several men lost. Hkam Leng (see Chapter XX.) was active in the Möngmit Country.

"The Moat," Mandalay.And North Wall of Fort Dufferin.

The Commissioners of the Northern and Central Divisions were urging me to have the large and numerous islands between Mandalay and Sagaing cleared of the gangs who held them. They represented the necessity of a river patrol. The cry from the Southern Division was for launches. The Commissioner wrote that the only boat in his division fit for service was that assigned to the military authorities; and this was the day after Captain Hext's arrival on his mission from India, to persuade me to reduce my demand for boats.

The Deputy Commissioner for Mandalay reported that there was a dacoit leader stockaded within forty miles of Mandalay, and that he was unable to get a force to turn him out of his position.

At the same time (July, 1887) bad news came from the Ye-u district. Two pretenders had appeared with a considerable following. As a prelude they had burnt villages, crucified one of the village headmen, and committed other brutalities. The civil administration was obliged to ask for help from the soldiers in this case. The weather was fine, and the country which these men had occupied was a good field for cavalry. The Hyderabad Cavalry were in the field at once, and the Inspector-General of Police was able to get together a hundred mounted military police and send them to help. A force from the Chindwin side co-operated. The gathering was very soon scattered. One of the leaders died of fever and the other escaped for a time, but was afterwards captured in the Lower Chindwin district, where he was attempting to organize another rising.

I was compelled in Sagaing also to ask Sir George White's assistance. The Sagaing Police battalion was backward in training and not fit for outpost work in a bad district. The death of Hla U had been expected to bring peace. But it now appeared that the district on both sides of the Mu was in the hands of three or four dacoit leaders who collected a fixed revenue from each village, which was spared so long as the demand was paid. Any headman who failed to pay was murderedremorselessly. In some cases the man's wife and children were killed before his face, to add to the sting of death.

The system in the Sagaing and other districts much resembled—in its machinery, not altogether in its methods—the organization of the Nationalists in Ireland.

At my request Sir George White consented to occupy the district closely, and although the gangs were not caught or brought to justice, some protection was given to the peaceful part of the population until we were ready later on to take the district in hand and destroy the gangs.

In Sagaing, as in some other cases, the local officers had been ignorant of what was going on around them. It was believed to be quiet because we had no touch with the people, and they told us nothing.

The intention in referring to these events is to show why caution was needed in the matter of relieving the troops. It must be remembered that a very large proportion of the military police had received very little training before their arrival. With the exception of some two thousand men, all were recruits entirely untaught in drill or discipline. The employment of such raw men on outpost duty under native officers whom they did not know was not without risk. In many cases the risk had to be faced, and consequently some disasters were inevitable. Progress was slow, but under the conditions it was good. "To instil discipline into so large a body of young soldiers," wrote the Inspector-General (General Stedman), "was a far more difficult task than to teach them the rudiments of drill. By discipline must be understood not only good conduct in quarters and prompt obedience to the orders of superiors, but the necessity of sticking to one another in the field and the habit of working together as a welded body."

Before I left Mandalay again for Lower Burma, Sir George White and I had arrived at an agreement regarding the force which it was necessary to keep up. We were able to propose the abolition of the field force and the reduction of the garrison by one regiment of British Infantry, two regiments of Indian Cavalry, eight regiments of Indian Infantry, and one British Mountain Battery. The allocation of the troops and police was reviewed in consultation with the Commissioners of Divisionsand so made that the one force supplemented the other. The reduction was to take effect from the spring of 1888.

We were now about to enter on a new development of the British occupation. The civil officers, supported by the military police, were to take the responsibility of keeping order. The soldiers were there ready to help if need be, but they were not to be called out except for operations beyond the power of the police.

I had arranged to hold a Durbar at Mandalay on the 5th of August, in order to meet the notables of Burma, and such of the Shan chiefs as might be able to come, face to face, and to make them understand the position, the intentions, and the power of the British Government. I hoped, perhaps not in vain, that the spirit of my words might penetrate to the towns and villages of Burma.

Meanwhile I had not visited Bhamo, and I decided to go there. I had sent for Mr. Hildebrand, whom I wanted to consult about the operations in the Shan States which were to be undertaken in the coming cold season. He arrived before I left Mandalay for Bhamo, and as he evidently needed rest, I asked him to remain at Government House until my return.

I found Bhamo a disappointing place. A very dirty, miserable kind of village, arranged in two streets parallel to the river. At the back lay a marsh or lagoon, which evidently was at one time a channel for the backwater of the river. Conservancy there was none, and the stench from the streets, the lagoon, and even the bank of the river was sickening. Considering that the place had been the headquarters of a district since our occupation, and a cantonment for British and Indian troops, it was not much to be proud of. But the soldiers and the civil officers had been well occupied with more pressing business.

The Chinese were the most prominent of the population. They were all, it was said, opium smokers, and seldom moved until near midday. They managed notwithstanding to make money, and to retire with fortunes after a few years. I anticipated a large increase of the trade withChina, but doubted if the town could grow much on its present site.[20]As to the trade, it could not make much progress on account of the cost of transport between Bhamo and Tengyueh, the risk of attack by Kachins, and the exactions and oppressions of the Chinese Customs officials, who at one time had maintained alikinstation within the British boundary not far from Bhamo. There was another route used by traders, which went by Mansi and Namkham, a Shan State on the Shwèli. Since the Kachins in the country south of Bhamo have been subjugated, the Chinese caravans have preferred the Namkham route; and at present although the Kachins have ceased to raid, and much has been done of late to improve the road to Tengyueh, the trade has not returned to that channel.

A survey for a light railway to Tengyueh has been made, but a strange indifference exists to the benefits certain, as I think, to result from making the line. The construction of a railway between Northern Burma and Yunnan has always appeared to me essential to the full development of the province. The opportunity has been lost and France has anticipated us. It would be a difficult and expensive work no doubt, but whether more difficult than the French line may be doubted. Even now, after twenty years, it has not been surveyed beyond the Kunlon ferry, and the opinion of persons without engineering knowledge has been accepted as sufficient to condemn it. But we may still hope. Napoleon crossing the Alps might have scoffed at the notion of a railway to Italy.

There is a vast area of land in Upper Burma waiting for population to cultivate it, and if communications were made easy, the Chinese Shans and possibly Chinese and Panthays from Yunnan might be induced to settle in the northern districts. The Chinese and Burmans are akin, and the offspring of Chinese fathers and Burman mothers have the good qualities of both races, which cannot be said of other crosses.

I returned to Mandalay from Bhamo before the end of July, having learnt and arranged much, especially in consultation with Major Adamson, the Deputy Commissioner, regarding the contemplated occupation of Mogaung. The stations on the river were all inspected on the way down.

I found Mr. Hildebrand waiting for me, and discussed with him and with Sir George White the plans for an expedition to the Shan States.

The Durbar was held on the 5th of August, and I think was a useful function. It was held in the great Eastern Hall of the Palace, the place where the King of Burma used to give audience to his feudatories and his people. The ex-ministers and some of the Shan Sawbwas were present, and the great hall was crowded with notables and officials from Mandalay and other districts. It must have been to them a striking occasion, and to many of them, perhaps, not altogether pleasant. To such as had any patriotic feeling, and no doubt many of them had, the representative of a foreign Government standing in front of the empty throne must have been the abomination of desolation standing where it ought not.[21]

My duty, however, was not to show sympathy with sentiment of this kind, but to impress them with the permanence, the benevolence, and the power of the new Government. In an appendix I have given the text of my speech and some comments upon it taken from an article in theTimesnewspaper of the 13th of September, 1887. Two of the high Burman officials who had formerly been in the King's service, the Kinwun Mingyi, one of the Ministers of the State, and the Myowun, or City Governor of Mandalay, both of whom had given great assistance to the British Government, received decorations. The former was made a Companion of the Star of India and the latter of the Indian Empire. I was glad to get the following commendation from Lord Dufferin.

He wrote: "I congratulate you on your Durbar and upon the excellent speech you made on the occasion. It was full of go and good sense, and will convince everybody that you really mean business."

There were fresh rumours at this time (August, 1887) of hostile intentions on the part of the Chinese, of gatherings of soldiers and bandits on the frontier, of the presence of auxiliaries from Yunnan with San Ton Hon in Theinni. There was no foundation in fact for any of these rumours; Mr. Warry, the Chinese adviser, placed no faith in them, and I did not believe in them. But they were repeated in the newspapers, magnified in gossip, and disturbed the public mind.

The best way of silencing these rumours was to make our occupation of the northernmost district, Mogaung, effectual, and to establish a definite control in the Shan States. In concert with the Major-General, proposals for effecting both these objects had been prepared and were before the Government of India, and I knew that the Viceroy approved them.

In neither case was serious opposition expected. Detailed accounts of both movements will be found in separate chapters of this book. In the case of the Shan States, the character of the expedition was essentially peaceful and conciliatory. The escorts given to the two civil officers were strong enough to deter, or if necessary overcome, opposition and support the dignity of our representatives. But unless hostilities broke out, in which case the military commanders would necessarily become supreme, the control was vested in the senior civil officer, Mr. Hildebrand. It is unnecessary to say more here, except that with Sir George White's help everything was done to keep down the cost. Not a man more than was absolutely necessary was sent. The Shan plateau, at this time nowhere prosperous, was in some parts on the verge of famine; not from drought or other climatic cause, but simply from the cat-and-dog life the people had led for some years. No supplies could be obtained in the country. It was necessary to ration the troops for four or five months, and the cost of transport was heavy.

Every one felt, however, that cost what it might, the work we had undertaken must be completed. Nothing could have justified us in leaving the Shan country any longer in a state of anarchy; and I doubt if even the most narrow-minded Under Secretary in the Financial Department dared to raise objections to the needful expenditure. It may be permitted to say here that no moneywas better spent. The Shan plateau for lovely scenery, for good climate, and I believe for its natural wealth, is proving itself a most valuable possession. Lord Dufferin thoroughly approved of the action taken in these cases.

It was a relief to deal with these larger matters. They were less harassing than the constant stream of administrative details of every kind which leave a man at the head of a large province barely time to think of his most important problems. The demands from the Secretary of State for information, which came through the Government of India, wasted a great deal of time. Members of Parliament who cannot force themselves into notice in other ways, take up a subject like Burma, of which no one knows anything, and ask questions which the Secretary of State has to answer. Frequently there was little foundation for these questions, and when the call came to answer them, it took both time and labour to ascertain what they were all about. Correspondents of newspapers, not so much perhaps out of malice—although that is not quite unknown—as from the necessities of their profession are greedy for sensational news. They know that the English public prefer to think that their servants abroad are either fools or scoundrels. If everything is reported to be going well and the officers to be doing their duty, few will credit it, and none will be interested in it. But hint vaguely at dark intrigues or horrible atrocities, ears are cocked at once, and the newspaper boys sweep in the pence.

Few of the uninitiated would believe how much time has to be given by the head of an Indian province to the placing of his men. In a climate like Burma, and under the conditions obtaining in 1887, frequent and sudden sickness compels officers to take leave. The civil staff of the province was barely sufficient if no losses occurred. If a man fell out it was often difficult to supply his place, and if a good man went down, as they often did, it was sometimes impossible to find a good man to succeed him. Writing to Lord Dufferin at this time (September, 1887) of one of the worst districts, I said: "I have not been able to put a good man there yet, but I hope to have a man soon. It all depends on getting hold of the right man." In a settled province the personal factor is not so important;but in a newly annexed country it is everything. Even in the oldest province in India, if a fool is put in charge of a district and kept there long enough you will have trouble of some sort.

Much has been heard of late years of the evils of transfers, and even Viceroys have talked as if the carelessness or favouritism of provincial governors were responsible for the mischief. The real cause in my experience is the inadequacy of the staff of officers. If one man falls sick and has to leave his district, two or three transfers may become inevitable. The Government of India realize no doubt that the staff, of the smaller provinces especially, is inadequate. If they give a liberal allowance of Englishmen the expense is increased and promotion becomes too slow. If they cut down the staff, the head of the province has to tear his hair and worry through somehow.

FOOTNOTES:[20]The population was 8,048 in 1891, and 10,734 in 1901, of which number 3,000 were natives of India. These numbers include the garrison.[21]This was written before the removal of the capital of India from Delhi to Calcutta.

[20]The population was 8,048 in 1891, and 10,734 in 1901, of which number 3,000 were natives of India. These numbers include the garrison.

[21]This was written before the removal of the capital of India from Delhi to Calcutta.

It was in Rangoon at this time that I made up my mind to disarm the whole province, Upper and Lower, rigorously, as soon as possible. I wrote to Lord Dufferin on September 30, 1887, as follows: "I am of opinion that the time has come for the complete disarming of the whole province, except perhaps on some exposed frontiers. The firearms in the hands of dacoits are evidently much fewer, but they continually replenish their stock by taking arms from villagers and Burman police. I would temper the measure in the Lower province by giving arms to selected Karens and Burmans, who should enrol themselves as special constables. As the Burmans hate nothing so much as signing any engagement to serve for a term, few of them would enrol themselves.

"I should fix the number of such special police myself, for each district."

The Baptist missionaries, I feared, would not look upon the scheme with favour. The loyalty of the Karens and the benefits of their organization under their missionaries, to whom the Government, as I have said on a former page, owes much, were not questioned. But it was not admissible that the Government of Burma should prefer one race more than another, and I had been warned by one of the missionaries themselves that Burman ill-will had been excited by the preference given to Karens in raising bodies of police auxiliaries during the disturbances.

By laying down conditions, fair and necessary in themselves, which men of the one race were likely to accept, but would be less acceptable to the other, as much discrimination was made between Karens and Burmans as was needful or decent.

In Upper Burma, Sir Charles Bernard had ordered the withdrawal of firearms from the villagers, soon after the annexation. It was not possible to carry it out effectually at that time. It was not until 1888 that I had arranged all the details and could put the orders fully into force. It is admitted generally to have been a beneficial measure, and to have helped very much to pacify the country and to put down dacoity. It is a pity that the disarmament of Lower Burma had not been enforced many years before. But no accumulation of facts are enough to destroy a prejudice, and for a long time my action was violently, I might say virulently, denounced in the Press and in Parliament.

The wisdom and necessity of this measure has come, I think, to be admitted by most people and was never doubted by my successors, who wisely disarmed the Chins at the cost of a serious rising and a hill campaign. The number of firearms taken from the villagers amounted in the years 1888 and 1889 to many thousands. Most of them were very antiquated and fit for a museum of ancient weapons. But they served the purpose of the Burman brigand, and not a few good men, British and Indian, died by them.

The Village Regulation was passed on October 28, 1887. It established on a legal basis the ancient and still existing constitution of Upper Burma. While emphasizing the responsibility of the village headman, it gave him sufficient powers and the support of the law. It also enacted the joint responsibility of the village in the case of certain crimes; the duty of all to resist the attacks of gangs of robbers and to take measures to protect their villages against such attacks. In the case of stolen cattle which were traced to a village, it placed on it the duty of carrying on the tracks or paying for the cattle. It gave the district officer power to remove from a village, and cause to reside elsewhere, persons who were aiding and abetting dacoits and criminals. This enactment, the genesis of which I have given in a former chapter, was framed in accordance with the old customary law and with the feelings of the people. It strengthened our hands more and gave us a tighter grip on the country than anything else could havedone. Without the military police no law could have done much. Without the Village Regulation, the military police would have been like a ship without a rudder.

When the open season of 1887-8 began, the administration was in a strong position to deal with the disorder still prevailing. It was prepared as it never had been before. There was the law enforcing village responsibility, and enabling the magistrate to deal summarily with the persons who were really the life of dacoity; those who, living an apparently honest life, were the intelligence and commissariat agents of the gangs. All the details of disarmament had not been settled, but every opportunity was taken of withdrawing arms, and in the case of dacoit leaders or their followers, or of rebel villages, the surrender of a certain number of firearms was made a condition of the grant of pardon. Lastly, the military police organization was complete, and the physical force needed to enforce the law was thus provided in a ready and convenient form.

The rains were over, and I anticipated that the dacoits would again become active. I also thought it probable that the inexperienced police would meet with some disasters.

The country now in the Thayetmyo district, frequented by Bo Swè, was quieter. He was a fugitive with a diminished following. Early in October we were cheered by the news of his destruction. The Viceroy wired his congratulations.

It may seem unworthy of the Government of a great country to rejoice at the death of a brigand whose influence did not extend over more than a few hundred square miles. It was not the man's death, but all that it meant. A sign of the coming end—slowly coming, it may be, but still the coming end—of a very weary struggle with a system of resistance which was costing us many good men and a lavish expenditure of money. Bo Swè was ridden down by a party of Colonel Clements' Mounted Infantry belonging to the Lower Burma command. He and his men were surprised in a ravine, and many, including Bo Swè, killed.

There were still left the broken remnants of the leader's following. Active officers, with special powers and sufficient police, were placed in charge of the Northern subdivisions of the Thayetmyo district on both sides of theriver, and order was established before the end of 1887. But in Upper Burma the districts of the Southern Division remained in a very bad state. Ôktama was still master, especially in the valley of the Môn. I had not found the right men for Minbu, and the weakness of the civil administration was represented as an evil, not without reason, by the military commanders.

The following extract from a letter dated 1st of October, 1887, from the Commissioner of the Southern Division will give a better idea of the state of things than mere general phrases:—

"On 16th August, Po Saung, an informer, was caught and killed by Bo Cho's gang in Pagan.

"On 29th August, Yan Sin, a dacoit who had submitted, was caught and killed by Nga Kway in Pagan.

"On 5th September, at Kôkkozu village in Pauk, the dacoits tried to catch the thugyi, but failed, and caught and murdered his wife.

"Su Gaung, a mounted police constable, was shot while carrying letters between Myingyan and Natogyi on 16th September.

"In Lindaung, Pagan district, the thugyi was murdered a month ago and Thade's gang on 10th September attempted to capture his son, but failed, and plundered the village.

"On 29th September, Nurtama in Minbu, which is the headquarters of the Kyabin Myoôk, was attacked. The Myoôk's and seven other houses were burned; no one was killed. The Myoôk lived here in fear of his life for some time. He sleeps at night at Sinbyugyun, on the other side of the Salin Creek, and if he sleeps at Nurtama he does not sleep in his own house, but in a little post which he has built. He has taken a guard of ten men from Sinbyugyun.

"On 24th September at Sagyun, in Myingyan district, Custance's interpreter and the thugyi of Welôn were breakfasting in the village; they were attacked, and the interpreter killed, his head being nearly severed from his body. The thugyi escaped with a slight wound."

More than one attack was made on Yénangyaung, the village near the oil-wells, with the object of killing the Burman headman. The raiders did not secure him, butthey carried off his wife and daughter and set fire to a number of boats, loaded with oil. The military police (a few raw Punjabis without a British officer) were flurried and did nothing. These attacks made them nervous, and shortly afterwards, taking a forest officer, who was going down the river with a white umbrella[22]over his head, for a leader of rebels, they fired volleys at him until he and his crew had to get out of the boat and cling to the side of it. Fortunately the men shot badly and no one was hit. The forest officer complained loudly of the indignity he had suffered, which he thought was not within the letter of his bond. It was believed that the men who had made the attack on Yénangyaung had come from the right bank of the Irrawaddy River. There was a patrol launch on this part of the river, and it had called several times at Yénangyaung before the attack. We had not enough boats to patrol a long stretch of river effectually, and it was easy for the dacoits to watch the steamer as it went up or down and time their crossing. The Commissioner, therefore, collected the boats on the right bank and put them under guards until confidence was restored. The towns on the left bank below Pagan were reported to live in dread of attack.

Meanwhile trouble broke out in the Chindwin district, on the west of the river. Two leaders of revolt had appeared in this region. One was the Bayingan, or Viceroy, of the Myingun Prince whose name has already been mentioned. He was known to have left the Mandalay district with the object of raising a disturbance in the Chindwin. The other was a person called the Shwègyobyu Prince, who at the time of the annexation had been a vaccinator in the Government service in the Thayetmyo district. He must have been a man of considerable character and ambition, for when the war began he went up to the Chindwin country and established himself at Kanlè, in the difficult hills of the Pondaung range. He assumed, with what right is not known, the style and title of "Prince," and proceeded to enrol men to resist the foreigners.

While we were congratulating ourselves on the destruction of Bo Swè and his gang, news came down that Pagyi was up. As yet we had not been able to occupy this region. It was a country of hills and ravines, densely wooded and also very unhealthy. It had been impossible to find civil officers to administer it, or men, either soldiers or police, to occupy it. The people had always more or less managed their own affairs under their own headmen, and as a temporary makeshift we had endeavoured to continue this arrangement. One, Maung Po. O, had been appointed an honorary head constable, and had hitherto maintained order in the south-west corner of Pagyi, and Maung Tha Gyi, an influential headman, held a similar position in the north-west and had done well and had acted with loyalty. The villages under Maung Tha Gyi, a group of small hamlets of twenty to thirty houses each, lay in the thick scrub jungle on the spurs of the Pondaung range.

A leader named Bo Sawbwa, who was acting in the interests of the Shwègyobyu Prince and had fortified himself in the jungles south of Pagyi, attacked and carried off Po. O. At the same time Maung Tha Gyi suddenly threw off his allegiance to the British, collected men, and fortified a position near one of his villages. He was reported to be ready to join the Shwègyobyu Prince, who ever since his gang was dispersed in 1886 had been harboured by a circle of villages in the west of Pagyi.

On receipt of this intelligence every precaution was taken. Sir George White sent Colonel Symons to take command of the military operations, and I selected Mr. Carter as the best man to accompany him as a civil officer with magisterial powers.

Captain Raikes was Deputy Commissioner of the Chindwin district at the time. He was away on leave, and Mr. W. T. Morison,[23]of the Indian Civil Service, Bombay Presidency, was acting for him and was at Alôn, the district headquarters on the left bank of the Chindwin River. Mr. W. T. Morison was a young officer of five or six years' service and had been in Burma a very short time. He was one of the young men, of whom there were not a few in Burma, who took instinctively to the work.

On the 2nd of October he crossed over to the disturbed tract and joined Lieutenant Plumer, who, with a detachment of the 2nd Hyderabad Contingent Infantry, was at Hlawga, a march west from the river.

Mr. Morison wrote at once to Maung Tha Gyi, ordering him to come in. Tha Gyi, who was at one of his villages, Chaungwa, about sixteen miles from Hlawga, sent an evasive reply and began to collect men and arms.

Mr. Morison decided to try to surprise him. On the morning of the 8th of October, Lieutenant Plumer and Mr. Morison, with twenty-one Mounted Infantry, from the military police battalion, and the Hyderabad Contingent, left Hlawga soon after midnight, and surprised Chaungwa at four o'clock in the morning, when it was still dark.

The village, when day broke, was found to be on the west bank of a deep ravine, at the bottom of which was the only cart-road. On the steep bank on which the village stood strong fortifications and entrenchments, commanding this cart-road, had been built; trees had been felled and thrown across, and the road covered with bamboo spikes. Our men were led by an excellent guide, who took them through the jungle across the ravine and up to one of the enemy's outposts.

Twenty-one men could not surround the village, but they rushed it, killing one only and capturing six. The leaders, who were found to have been the Bayingan and Maung Tha Gyi, escaped. Nine ponies tied near the house occupied by the former were taken, and in the house were found twenty royal battle standards, many arms, and much correspondence.

After a halt for rest, the main body, fifteen rifles with the prisoners and captured ponies, were sent off. Lieutenant Plumer and Mr. Morison, with a jemadar and six mounted military policemen and a Burmese interpreter, remained behind, hoping that some of the enemy would return and fall into their hands. The Burmans, however, were not so simple. After a short delay the two British officers and their men set out to follow the main body. The moment they reached the ravine a volley was fired from the perpendicular bank opposite the village. Maung Po Min, the interpreter, was shot in the leg, his pony killed, and Mr. Morison's hand was grazed by a bullet. Mr. Morison, who was well mounted, took Po Min up behind him, and they all scrambled up the western bank of the ravine, hoping to be able to see the dacoits and return their fire. A few volleys were fired at random, as the enemy could not be seen; and then, fearing further ambuscades, the small party took a jungle track, hoping it would lead round into the main road lower down. The village of Chaungwa is on the spurs of a low range of hills. The jungle is of the densest, and cut up in every direction by deep ravines, and they had no guide. The track was evidently taking them in a wrong direction. They resolved to leave it and make as nearly due east as they could.

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