DRINK
'The ignorant commit sins in consequence of drunkenness, and also
make others drunk.'--_Acceptance into the Monkhood._
The Buddhist religion forbids the use of all stimulants, including opium
and other drugs; and in the times of the Burmese rule this law was
stringently kept. No one was allowed to make, to sell, or to consume,
liquors of any description. That this law was kept as firmly as it was
was due, not to the vigilance of the officials, but to the general
feeling of the people. It was a law springing from within, and therefore
effectual; not imposed from without, and useless. That there were
breaches and evasions of the law is only natural. The craving for some
stimulant amongst all people is very great--so great as to have forced
itself to be acknowledged and regulated by most states, and made a great
source of revenue. Amongst the Burmans the craving is, I should say, as
strong as amongst other people; and no mere legal prohibition would have
had much effect in a country like this, full of jungle, where palms grow
in profusion, and where little stills might be set up anywhere to
distil their juice. But the feelings of the respectable people and the
influence of the monks is very great, very strong; and the Burmans were,
and in Upper Burma, where the old laws remain in force, are still, an
absolutely teetotal people. No one who was in Upper Burma before and
just after the war but knows how strictly the prohibition against liquor
was enforced. The principal offenders against the law were the high
officials, because they were above popular reach. No bribe was so
gratefully accepted as some whisky. It was a sure step to safety in
trouble.
A gentleman--not an Englishman--in the employ of a company who traded in
Upper Burma in the king's time told me lately a story about this.
He lived in a town on the Irrawaddy, where was a local governor, and
this governor had a head clerk. This head clerk had a wife, and she was,
I am told, very beautiful. I cannot write scandal, and so will not
repeat here what I have heard about this lady and the merchant; but one
day his Burman servant rushed into his presence and told him
breathlessly that the bailiff of the governor's court was just entering
the garden with a warrant for his arrest, for, let us say, undue
flirtation. The merchant, horrified at the prospect of being lodged in
gaol and put in stocks, fled precipitately out of the back-gate and
gained the governor's court. The governor was in session, seated on a
little dais, and the merchant ran in and knelt down, as is the custom,
in front of the dais. He began to hurriedly address the governor:
'My lord, my lord, an unjust complaint has been made against me. Someone
has abused your justice and caused a warrant to be taken out against me.
I have just escaped the bailiff, and came to your honour for protection.
It is all a mistake. I will explain. I----'
But here the governor interposed. He bent forward till his head was
close to the merchant's head, and whispered:
'Friend, have you any whisky?'
The merchant gave a sigh of relief.
'A case newly arrived is at your honour's disposal,' he answered
quickly. 'I will give orders for it to be sent over at once. No, two
cases--I have two. And this charge is all a mistake.'
The governor waved his hand as if all explanation were superfluous. Then
he drew himself up, and, addressing the officials and crowd before him,
said:
'This is my good friend. Let no one touch him.' And in an undertone to
the merchant: 'Send it soon.'
So the merchant went home rejoicing, and sent the whisky. And the lady?
Well, my story ends there with the governor and the whisky. No doubt it
was all a mistake about the lady, as the merchant said. All officials
were not so bad as this, and many officials were as strongly against
the use of liquor, as urgent in the maintenance of the rules of the
religion, as the lowest peasant.
It was the same with opium: its use was absolutely prohibited. Of
course, Chinese merchants managed to smuggle enough in for their own
use, but they had to bribe heavily to be able to do so, and the people
remained uncontaminated. 'Opium-eater,' 'gambler,' are the two great
terms of reproach and contempt.
It used to be a custom in the war-time--it has died out now, I
think--for officers of all kinds to offer to Burmans who came to see
them--officials, I mean--a drink of whisky or beer on parting, just as
you would to an Englishman. It was often accepted. Burmans are, as I
have said, very fond of liquor, and an opportunity like this to indulge
in a little forbidden drink, under the encouragement of the great
English soldier or official, was too much for them. Besides, it would
have been a discourtesy to refuse. And so it was generally accepted. I
do not think it did much harm to anyone, or to anything, except,
perhaps, to our reputation.
I remember in 1887 that I went up into a semi-independent state to see
the prince. I travelled up with two of his officials, men whom I had
seen a good deal of for some months before, as his messengers and
spokesmen, about affairs on the border. We travelled for three days, and
came at last to where he had pitched his camp in the forest. He had
built me a house, too, next to his camp, where I put up. I had a long
interview with him about official matters--I need not tell of that
here--and after our business was over we talked of many things, and at
last I got up to take my leave. I had seen towards the end that the
prince had something on his mind, something he wanted to say, but was
afraid, or too shy, to mention; and when I got up, instead of moving
away, I laughed and said:
'Well, what is it? I think there is something the prince wants to say
before I go.'
And the prince smiled back awkwardly, still desirous to have his say,
still clearly afraid to do so, and at last it was his wife who spoke.
'It is about the whisky,' she said. 'We know that you drink it. That is
your own business. We hear, too, that it is the custom in the part of
the country you have taken for English officers to give whisky and beer
to officials who come to see you--to _our_ officials,' and she looked at
the men who had come up with me, and they blushed. 'The prince wishes to
ask you not to do it here. Of course, in your own country you do what
you like, but in the prince's country no one is allowed to drink or to
smoke opium. It is against our faith. That is what the prince wanted to
say. The thakin will not be offended if he is asked that here in our
country he will not tempt any of us to break our religion.'
I almost wished I had not encouraged the prince to speak. I am afraid
that the embarrassment passed over to my side. What could I say but that
I would remember, that I was not offended, but would be careful? I had
been lecturing the prince about his shortcomings; I had been warning him
of trouble to come, unless he mended his ways; I had been telling him
wonderful things of Europe and our power. I thought that I had produced
an impression of superiority--I was young then--but when I left I had my
doubts who it was that scored most in that interview. However, I have
remembered ever since. I was not a frequent offender before--I have
never offered a Burman liquor since.