LITMIR.BIZ

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early in 1878, visited Bassein this year in the course of a tour in the old Government steamer, the Irrawaddy. Recognizing Mr. Burgess’s rare ability, he called him to Rangoon soon afterwards to act as secretary in place of Major Street, who went on leave. This was exceptional promotion for a man of about eight years’ service. Mr. Burgess was a man of great capacity, of untiring industry, of immense power of work, of exceptional mastery of detail, of singularly sane judgment, one whose opinion, as Mr. Aitchison said, was always worthy of consideration. For several years he worked in the secretariat, afterwards did excellent service as Commissioner at Mandalay and elsewhere, and in due course became Judicial Commissioner of Upper Burma. In that high office he had full scope for his industry and sound judgment. His rulings, especially on points of Buddhist law, illuminated many dark places, and are still cited with respect. Mr. Burgess’s health was undermined by excessive work in the secretariat. In 1898 he had to take leave, and, by a melancholy accident, died at sea on his way home. He was one of the ablest officers who ever served in Burma, and, if his health had not failed, must have risen to the highest posts. If he had a fault officially, it was a tendency to interfere too much in detail and to do the work of his subordinates. No doubt, as Mr. Aitchison used to say, and as others have often said, the great administrator is he who does his own duty and sees that those under him do theirs. But the defect I have ventured to note is the defect of a generous quality.

      In those days the education of junior civilians was left to take care of itself. There was no Land Records Department and there were no elaborate circulars prescribing a course of training. What sort of training a junior officer enjoyed, or whether he had any training at all, depended entirely on the quality of his first Deputy Commissioner. I need hardly say that I regard as preferable the present system, under which every young officer is passed through a definite course of practical instruction in all branches of his work. But even now a great deal depends on the personality of the Deputy Commissioner. It was my good fortune to begin my service under the guidance of an excellent officer and a high-minded, great-hearted gentleman. Never had green griffin a kindlier or abler mentor. And to the end of his life Mr. Burgess treated me with the kindness of an elder brother. I was placed in charge of the Treasury; given Third Class magisterial powers, that is, power to imprison for one month, fine up to fifty rupees, and, such was the barbaric darkness of that age, to whip; and set to try petty criminal cases, learn Burmese, and prepare for the departmental examinations. I confess that I had a charmingly idle time. In those happy days life was not in the least strenuous. The busiest time was when the head accountant went sick for about a month, and I had to do his work as well as my own. In this way I did thoroughly learn the Treasury system, even if I forgot it afterwards. The zeal of youth betrayed me into a somewhat serious blunder, whereby I incurred the formal censure of Government. This, though recorded, was never officially communicated to me, and does not seem to have done me any harm. I cannot call to mind anything amusing or interesting in the court or office work. If there are tales, others must tell them. It was not in Bassein that a Third Class Magistrate sentenced a cattle-thief to imprisonment for one week, the normal sentence then, and, I hope, now being one of two years’ hard labour. Called upon for justification, he gravely explained that he had to observe some measure in his sentences. If he gave a man a whole month for cattle-theft, what sentence could he pass if he convicted a man of murder? Nor was it here that a young magistrate fined a woman Rs. 10, or in default rigorous imprisonment for two years. It was elsewhere that an officer fined his own servant judicially for “spoiling the Court’s soup” by using an oily cloth to wipe the plates withal. These stories, current in Burma long ago, are possibly all invented. Similarly mythical, I suspect, are the legends of the young civilian who gratefully accepted advice not to try a long shot, lest he should strain the gun; of another who on the voyage out kept under his pillow a revolver wrapped in paper and labelled “Dangerous”; of a third who was persuaded to rise at mess, as the representative of Government, and forestall the President in announcing the toast of “The Queen.” But many years later, with my own ears, I heard the health of Her Majesty proposed, “coupled with the name of General –,” and the gallant General respond on behalf of his Sovereign.

      Bassein was a charming station, with that mingling of non-official and official society which doth ever add pleasure. The great rice firms, Messrs. Bulloch Bros., Messrs. Strang Steel and Co., Messrs. Mohr Bros., and others, had mills on either side of the river, and the presence of their representatives helped to form a festive and sociable community. We were all young and all cheerful. Though there was no club, we managed to meet and enjoy life. Besides an inchoate attempt at polo, then just coming into vogue, riding in the fields and jungle, and playing lawn tennis, were the principal amusements. Golf had not been introduced. I am afraid ladies had rather a quiet time, for dances were of very rare occurrence. But bachelor frolics were many, and the spectacled Deputy Commissioner who looked grave enough on the Bench was leader in every frivolity. His Saturday night whist dinners were often more hilarious than the occasion indicates. I refrain from recording instances of light-hearted jests perpetrated from time to time, partly because they were too trivial for immortality, partly lest the serious reader think us more childish-foolish than we were. The survivors of those joyous days will call to mind many a noisy revel. No harm was done. Mr. Kipling would have found no copy for the mildest of plain tales.

      There were reminders of historic times. One of the Public Works officers was a veteran who had fought at Chillianwallah. Another resident had learnt his work under Brunel. Less pleasing relics of the past were a few old men branded on the forehead and sent into transportation from India. Some, but not all, were mutineers. They were not in confinement, but eked out a wretched existence on two or three pence a day.

      I saw something of district life. More than once the Deputy Commissioner took me on tour with him, and I had opportunities of learning methods of sound administration. The Deputy Commissioner was the head of the district, and, as already stated, controlled all except the purely Imperial departments. Even over Forests, Public Works, and Education he exercised paternal sway. He was explicitly declared to be the head of the police. And he was the chief executive officer, with as much influence as his personality secured. He cherished his own District Fund, his pet child, and had a fair amount of money to spend on minor works. Often he was his own road-maker. As District Magistrate, with power to try all but capital offences and impose substantial penalties, and as District Judge, with unlimited original civil jurisdiction and wide appellate powers, he directed the judicial administration.

      He constantly travelled slowly through the district, and was personally known to all the people. In most districts the volume of work was not beyond the capacity of an able and energetic officer. We in Bassein were fortunate in possessing the ablest Deputy Commissioner in the Province, and the district flourished under his benign and firm rule. It was an invaluable object-lesson to accompany Mr. Burgess on tour and mark his procedure. Always accessible to the humblest villager, yet strict in upholding the authority of his subordinates, Myo-ôks and Thugyis; halting here and there to investigate disputes in revenue matters, to hear complaints, to try cases; treating the local officials with kindness and consideration, while preserving his place and dignity; inspecting village records; checking capitation tax returns and land revenue rolls; visiting fields on which remission of revenue was claimed; taking a day off now and then to shoot snipe; the Deputy Commissioner’s progress tended to the happiness of the people and the peace of the countryside. I have no doubt that this was the best system of administration ever devised or practised. The separation of judicial and executive functions, the curtailment of the Deputy Commissioner’s powers, the attempt, happily so far not successful in Burma, to diminish his authority over the police and his responsibility for peace and order, are all steps backward; to vary the metaphor, they are solvents which will gradually destroy the vitality of the administration and weaken the foundations of good government laid by our predecessors. I have no right to speak of other provinces of India. In Burma there is a comparatively simple social organization. With a strong feeling of personal independence and a full measure of self-respect, the people looked up to the officials and recognized that they were better off under authority than if they attempted to govern themselves. Above all, they knew that in the last resort they could rely on the justice and firmness of British officers. Under this system the moral and material welfare of the peasant and trader was promoted far more surely than by the introduction of Western methods unsuited to the idiosyncrasy of the race. Nor does this proposition preclude Burmans from obtaining by

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