PROME.
“A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
Oh wise young judge, how I do honour thee!”
Uninviting as may have been the immediate surroundings of the last
place, few stations could vie with Prome in all that was picturesque.
Situated on the left bank of the river, it consisted of a limited and
undulating tract of country, covered with fine trees, from the branches
of which hung beautiful creepers in graceful festoons; shrubs and
undergrowths also grew thickly among the timber. The Burmese must, in
selecting the spot, have had an eye to that which nature had already
rendered beautiful; they then improved upon it according to the canons
of native art—not by any means for the benefit of “οἱ πολλοί,” but as
a sylvan retreat, wherein priest and monks could lead a purely isolated
and ascetic life, away from the busy haunts of men, with every facility
for contemplation and with as few hindrances as possible on the main
road to “Nirvana.” Judging from the size and number of the Pon-gyee
houses, one would imagine that the religious fraternity must have
mustered there in great numbers, ere the spoiler turned them out and
appropriated their sacred dwelling to his own sacrilegious uses. All
is fair in war; these elegant edifices of teak, built on piles along
either side of the main road, and now converted into residences and
mess-houses, had, but a few years since, presented a picture that would
have evoked ecstasies from an artist. There, shaded by the luxurious
foliage of the tamarind, dwelt the original occupants, some reading,
others sitting cross-legged in emulation of their master, a few, maybe,
imparting to the young the doctrines of their wondrous religion.
Then, everything suggested peace and harmony; now, alas! the bugle
is for ever resounding with its periodical “Puddings and pies for
officers’ wives;” whereat the officers would assemble alone, for their
wives—poor “grass-widows!”—were far away.
Facing the river to the right were blocks of hastily constructed
dwellings for all sorts and conditions of men, necessary adjuncts to
a large force, which had to be lodged, fed and clothed; and some way
behind these came the “Sepoy lines.” To the left, well intrenched and
guarded, lay the Commissariat Stores, on which so much depends when
once the dogs of war are let loose. All men, irrespective of race or
colour, fight, as did Napoleon’s soldiers, “on their stomachs;” but
it is the European element which so taxes the hard-worked officials
of the Commissariat department; they must have their daily rations of
meat, bread, porter, tea, sugar and condiments, besides every kind
of comfort, when lying sick or wounded. And when I assert that the
Indian Commissariat department was second to none in the world for
efficiency, organization and uprightness, I know no one can contradict
me. Presiding over this essential adjunct at Prome was a man who, to
the regret of all who knew him, died in India some years afterwards,
and we shall perhaps never look on his like again.
The Burmese quarter of the town was still further to the left,
occupying more level ground and of considerable extent. Many of the
native buildings were on a grander scale than those usually met with,
bamboo being discarded in lieu of teak.
In the midst of them we naturally constructed a prison, near which
soon sprang up that emblem of civilization, the gallows; but I am
happy to put it on record that, during my tenure of office in a medical
capacity, it was never once used. Neither—to the credit of the Burmese,
be it said—were there many candidates for the gaol, though I never
shall forget the amazement of the few at such an unintelligible mode of
punishment.
Of all the people I ever came across, I should consider the Burmese
the least capable of bearing such restraint; they were so independent,
so fond of freedom, air and exercise. With our egotistic proclivities
and insular pride, we are but too prone to pounce down upon a conquered
country and force upon them there and then our own laws and notions of
the fitness of things, utterly regardless of the material with which we
have to deal, and ignoring the impossibility of moulding it all at once
to our own complicated judicial system.
We make no allowance for the influence of centuries of heredity; we
overlook the fact that their notions of right and wrong are based upon
a totally different code of ethics from our own.
That faithful servant, who made away with his father’s murderer in
obedience to the laws and faith of the tribe among whom he was born and
bred, should have merely been dismissed from the service, without being
in addition deported to the Andamans; and it would have been better
for India in general, and an exalted personage in particular, had his
sentence been thus simplified.
We lose sight of the fact that we are aliens ourselves, and only in
possession of these countries by might, and not by right; our strength
is that of a giant, and as such we use it. One of the most pitiable
sights I ever saw was the incarceration of these few Burmese.
Our system was to blame and not the Assistant-Commissioner, than whom
not a kinder or more humane man existed.
With the welfare of the people at heart, he resided among them in the
centre of the town; and the very fact of his being able to do so in
safety so soon after our conquest speaks volumes for native principles
and his own moderation. Many a time and oft did I wend my way through
the streets of an evening to keep him company, and return at night,
without a sign of molestation.
The opposite side of the river, which was at this point narrower and
deeper, was also hilly and laid out in plantations of custard-apples,
the fruit of which did justice to the care and skill lavished upon
them. Those in India were very inferior to them, as much so perhaps
as is a crab-apple to a Ripston-pippin! After the rainy season, and
as soon as it was sufficiently dry to admit of the operation, the
undergrowth in and about them was set on fire, and a pretty sight it
presented at night, as the zig-zag lines of flame ran up the hills in
every direction.
I can quite understand how this annual celebration enriched the soil,
directly through the distribution of carbon and potash, and indirectly
from its increased exposure to the sun and atmosphere; but what passes
my comprehension is how the trees themselves escaped injury.
Either the rapidity with which the flames advanced prevented any real
danger accruing to them; or else the cultivators themselves must have
devised some expedient whereby the trees were rendered fire-proof. They
could be seen superintending the operation, regulating the direction
of the flames, and beating out any that ascended too high with long
bamboos. The soil on these hills was no doubt peculiarly adapted for
this fruit, a fact which the inhabitants probably discovered by having
seen some originally there in a wild state.
In spite of their laziness, they were no mean cultivators, and, as I
saw on an occasion hereafter to be related, endowed with considerable
ingenuity. That the soil of these hills fulfilled the requirements
of the fruit in question in a unique degree, I gathered from the fact
that I never came across it elsewhere. I should much like to assign a
scientific reason, based on an analysis of the soil and the geological
formation of the hills; but I regret to say that my knowledge in
this branch of science was, in those days at all events, extremely
elementary and unpractical. I had soon special reason to lament my
ignorance in this respect, for I was to traverse a hitherto unknown
tract of country, where nature had been exceedingly lavish of her
gifts, animal, vegetable and mineral. Advanced age brings in its train
to the majority of mankind varying degrees of regret for neglected
opportunities, the inevitable longing after that which “might have
been.”
Chosen no doubt from the facilities it afforded, as well as for its
strategical position, the military eye may nevertheless have been
attracted to Prome by the sense of the picturesque; though, as it
turned out, these superficial allurements concealed such deadly enemies
as dysentery and an intractable form of intermittent fever, which
played especial havoc with the European troops. And, contrary to all
calculation, the higher they were quartered, the more severely did
they suffer. Some European infantry, for instance, located in barracks
half-way up the hill, was reduced at one time to a state of almost
inefficiency; while the artillery-men further inland, and in more
open ground, were much less affected. The former arrived in its full
strength, but in a few months could scarcely muster a quarter of their
number of effective bayonets. As I passed their quarters on my morning
“constitutional,” it looked as if the men were mustering for parade
in their dressing-gowns, and convalescents filled every verandah. But
the garrison was not in very great danger, as besides the above, two
regiments of native infantry and one of cavalry were quartered there;
a force in itself amply sufficient to cope with anything the Burmese
could bring against us. Nor was it at all likely that they would beard
the lion in his den, for, as experience had already taught us, their
fighting was as a rule confined to remote spots in the heart of the
jungle, a species of warfare of the most trying and unsatisfactory
nature. A heavy responsibility rested at this time on the officers
in command, who found it difficult to steer between the Scylla of
severity and the Charybdis of leniency; and their difficulties were no
wise lessened by the recent publication of the proclamation annexing
the country, in spite of the significant fact that in reality we held
little more than the actual banks of the river, the interior being
virtually a _terra incognita_, where collisions were still the order of
the day. As might be expected, a nice point arose out of this somewhat
premature notification, with reference to the treatment of spies
taken in our camp. A detachment in a difficult position, away from
further assistance and threatened by armed bands, captured one in their
midst. He was tried by a drum-head court-martial, sentenced and shot,
according to the usages of war. But, said the authorities, we were at
peace, and therefore the punishment was illegal! But we were only so on
paper! War was still going on, even if it were in a desultory fashion;
and for the preservation of the party it was deemed expedient to
employ energetic and deterrent measures. Who was the best judge of the
situation, the officer on the spot, or one thousands of miles away? To
have kept the man a prisoner would have been no easy matter in such a
situation, besides entailing a guard and thereby weakening a force that
was already numerically small. Time and circumstances considered, it
was a mistake to descend to such hair-splitting, as it tended to weaken
the authority of the officers, besides causing them much unnecessary
dissatisfaction. It was in fact one of those many cases in which theory
and practice cannot be reconciled.
Soon after landing, I joined the battery of artillery on the other
side of the hills. They assigned to me a large bungalow perched on
a hillock, composed of three rooms communicating with each other and
surrounded by a verandah. It was simply palatial in contrast with some
of my recent abodes, making me feel a person of some consequence.
My stock of furniture was certainly somewhat limited, but I had all
that was necessary, and in such a country the absence of anything
superfluous was a decided advantage, tending as it did to limit the
powers of concealment of various nuisances, such as rats, snakes and
insects.
I could watch the rats with the utmost _nonchalance_ as they chased
each other along my bamboos; and many a snake forfeited his life
through his inability to conceal himself. One afternoon I observed a
very large one coiled up in the very centre of my bed, and, justly
incensed at such unwarrantable intrusion, I grasped a long-bladed
Burmese sword and advanced to do battle. But in spite of my extreme
caution, the bamboo flooring creaked, and the reptile decamped, not,
however, before I had cut him in two. Snakes enter houses as a rule in
pursuit of the rats and frogs which harbour there; in this instance,
however, the intrusion seemed to have for its sole object the luxury
of occupying my bed—a temptation to which he yielded with unlooked-for
results.
Others I frequently killed when capturing a frog, which in such a case
utters a series of sounds resembling the cries of a flogged child.
The solitary position of my abode was a matter of complete indifference
to me, as I was generally out till late, and dined every evening at
the mess, besides which, I always had writing to do when at home, and
consequently preferred being undisturbed.
The mess fare was simple; but even had it been much more so,
compensation would have been afforded by the society one met there.
From the commanding officer downward, one and all were a refined,
intellectual set of men, among whom I spent a most agreeable time, the
pleasurable recollection of which is marred only by the afterthought of
how many perished soon after in the Mutiny.
“Heroic Willoughby,” of Delhi fame, was there,—all, all were good men
and true!
As my sphere of duties widened to embrace the civil department also,
the place grew upon me, and I hoped to remain there for a long time.
Looking back, I often wish it had been so decreed! Men who had resided
for some time in India thought differently, they longed for the time
when their regiments should be ordered back.
And their wish was soon to be gratified: they returned just in time to
get entangled in the outbreak, in which the majority of my old comrades
were shot down by the men they trusted.
I was caught in the same trap, but escaped by the skin of my teeth.
Circumstances unfortunately compelled me to remain on for many years;
but I place it on record that from that time forward I loathed the
country and the altered mode of Government, and I maintain, without
much fear of contradiction, that under John Company’s _Raj_, Europeans
and natives were far happier than they have ever been since, or ever
will be.
At Prome there certainly was a dearth of those amusements to which
the majority of officers had been accustomed; but this was the case at
most Burmese stations. The band and the mess were all that remained.
There was very little sport; and libraries and billiard-tables were
inadmissible, as part and parcel of campaigning equipage; the ladies
too—where were they?
In its palmy days of yore, before the great convulsion, India was
celebrated for its sociability, for the brotherly feelings that knit
together Europeans of every denomination, and for the deference shown
them by the population at large.
In every walk of life there is the hard lesson of how to take the
good and bad together; and there is some justification of the way in
which the officers yearned after their accustomed dances, picnics and
hunting, in the fact that history has proved, in the most unequivocal
manner, that the man who shines in the drawing-room and field makes the
best officer under any conditions. He possesses more self-reliance,
clearer judgment, and greater fertility of resource, not to speak of
better-tuned nerves, in an emergency, than the more modern bookworm,
whose mind has too often been developed at the expense of his body.
If the human machinery is to work efficiently, bodily and mental
training must go hand in hand, and this is especially necessary in
the case of the soldier. The pendulum with us is always swinging to
extremes, and the present tendency is to train the one, and leave the
other to look after itself.
The old Company may have erred in the opposite direction, by permitting
young fellows to enter their service before, indeed, their education
was sufficiently advanced; yet, what able men they produced!
The Mutiny arose from no fault of theirs, but rather from the evils
of interference from home, by which the door of appeal was opened too
wide, weakening that authority so essential to commanders, especially
in the East. The leaven rapidly permeated throughout the mass, and the
Sepoys, recognizing their advantage, improved upon it, as Asiatics know
how.
The “annexation of Oude” and the “greased cartridge” episode occurred
opportunely, and served as handles.
In judicial matters we were exacting; but in military matters we were
far too lenient, the reason of this being presumably that the supreme
command was vested in officers imperfectly acquainted with the Asiatic
character, these new acquisitions coming periodically fresh from home,
and consequently tinctured with much of the maudlin sentiment that
thrives there in certain quarters.
In India generally, Europeans were but little given to pedestrian
exercise, partly because the youngest subaltern could afford to
indulge in a horse or pony, partly because the country was so very
uninteresting, hundreds of miles of dead level road, lined on either
side with the useful and ubiquitous mango, and acres of cultivation
without a break, by way of relieving the depressing monotony.
Riding put a totally different complexion on the matter; the animals,
unaccustomed to inequalities, were well suited to the roads; the
exhilarating exercise covered a multitude of shortcomings, while
hunting obscured them _in toto_.
At Prome, however, there was more by way of encouragement to
pedestrians; well worth traversing on foot were the many interesting
roads, turning here and bending there; now ascending a greasy hill,
anon dipping into a valley, and following up a meandering stream,
flanked with stately trees and flowering shrubs.
On all sides, the fly-catchers with their burnished plumage flashing
in the sun, while various other birds in gaudy livery flitted from
tree to tree; woodpeckers ran round them, tapping here and there with
their hammer-shaped bills in quest of hidden treasures, while the
agile movements of the squirrel lent additional charm to the scene.
One walk was in special favour, leading, as it did, along the banks of
the river, and then sweeping inland, enclosing with two others a huge
space, in which lay our entire force. Its breadth and culverts were
evidence of its military design.
The life in Burmah may have been irksome to many, but none could
complain of its expense. What with no house rent, a necessarily
curtailed mess, and various subscriptions in abeyance, military tailors
realized many an outstanding debt.
Extended credit, and proportionately protective prices had placed
purveyor and recipient on the horns of a dilemma, from which this
campaign released them.
It must certainly have been an anxious time for the man of business;
and as he ran his eye down the list of casualties, one must sympathize
with him, as much as is possible in the case of traders that make those
who meet their liabilities pay for those who do not. I was young at
that time, and had only advanced a few paces on the independent road of
life; and the yarns unfolded afforded me an insight into the recesses
of human nature.
War, whether waged in a just cause or the reverse, is always a
lamentable occurrence, but this campaign afforded another illustration
of the adage relating to an “ill wind.” To save money in such a
situation reflected no credit on any man, simply because there existed
no loophole for extravagance of any kind. It was a case of necessity
rather than choice.
As soon as the river had contracted once again into its ordinary
bed, which it does very soon after the rains are over, I obtained a
day’s leave of absence, in order to pay a visit to a famous haunt of
wild-fowl. Such at least was its reputation, and for once in the course
of her long life, Dame Rumour had spoken correctly. Something like an
hour’s journey by boat brought me to a perfect El Dorado of geese and
ducks. When we had reached the extensive “jheel,” or swamp, where they
most did congregate, one of my men procured me a small native boy, who
was delighted at the prospect of paddling me about in his own canoe. I
had soon taken up my position in the bow with gun and ammunition—those
were the days of powder-flask, shot-belt and wads—and we forthwith
raised the alarm, the immense numbers of fowls fairly blotting out the
bright sky for several moments.
I discharged both barrels into the flock, and, ere I could look round,
my amphibious little guide was in the water, retrieving the dead
and wounded, which were all ordinary ducks and geese in excellent
condition. As this was a very likely place for an alligator, I felt
extremely nervous on the boy’s account—the only drawback to a very
pleasant and exciting day; but as he seemed rather to enjoy it than
otherwise, I tried to persuade myself that the danger was one of my own
creating. He enjoyed both the fun and the “tip” I gave him, for it was
not every day he had the chance of earning a rupee.
Ere many weeks had rolled by, the kaleidoscope of military affairs
was again shaken, and, to my infinite regret, the battery was ordered
elsewhere.
My country house had therefore to be vacated; and I believe that even
the colony of rats, lizards, frogs and mosquitoes, with which I had
shared it, regretted my departure. The snakes, upon whom I always waged
unrelenting war, were doubtless mightily pleased. As for the others,
as long as they kept their place, I lived, and let live. Their name
certainly was—legion!
Whatever may have been my regret at the sudden and unexpected turn in
the tide of affairs, very little leisure was permitted for the purpose
of brooding over the stern decrees of fickle fortune.
Military life consists in being here to-day, there to-morrow;
and is indeed a nomadic existence, only relieved by its eminent
respectability.
“Move on,” is the everlasting dictum of War Office and policeman; and
one has, during the active years of one’s life, but few opportunities
of settling down in the midst of one’s few household gods. This
constant moving under orders is apt to cling to men, even after their
retirement from the service; and this accounts for the reputation
enjoyed by Anglo-Indians as the most restless of mortals.
On first returning home, they pitch their tents in “Asia Minor” (known
to some as Bayswater); thence they move on through Bath, Cheltenham,
and Leamington, until their circuit of the island is put a stop to by
a last fatal illness. This wandering proclivity is further encouraged
by the absence of ties to any particular spot; for the Anglo-Indian,
returning after years of service in the Far East, is ever thrown into
a train of melancholy associations by the reiterated question: “The
friends of my youth, where are they?”