1824.
Bundoola—Retreat of Captain Noton—Defeat at Ramoo—Repulse
of the Burmans—Burmese account of the War—Rangoon
expedition—Description of Rangoon.
Maha Men-gyee Bundoola, the Burman general, was one of the best of the
subjects of the monarch of Ava. He owed his proud position, not to the
empty promoting system of a European court, but, like an adventurer in
a brave and warlike country, he rose from the ranks, and, pioneer-like,
cut away the overhanging branches between himself and his honourable
goal. Such a change of fortune is not uncommon in Oriental countries;
but it is uncommon to find little court favour at work in his elevation.
He had fought and received honour and solid pudding, yet he had an end
to expect, and the culminating point of his fame had now arrived, and
cab-like, he would have to take care of the post at the corner. That post
was the Anglo-Indian army, and he hazarded himself upon the chance of
overthrowing it, with what success will afterwards be seen.
“It has been already noticed,” says Wilson,[269] “that a large Burman
force had been assembled in Arakan, under the command of the chief
military officer of the state of Ava, Maha Men-gyee Bundoola, an officer
who enjoyed a high reputation, and the entire confidence of the court,
and who had been one of the most strenuous advisers of the war; in
the full confidence that it would add a vast accession of power to
his country, and glory to himself. His head-quarters were established
at Arakan, where, probably, from ten to twelve thousand Burmans were
assembled. Early in May, a division of this force crossed the Naf, and
advanced to Rutnapullung, about fourteen miles south from Ramoo, where
they took up their position, and gradually concentrated their force to
the extent of about eight thousand men, under the command of the four
rajas of Arakan, Ramree, Sandaway, and Cheduba, assisted by four of the
inferior members of the royal council, or atwenwoons, and acting under
the orders of Bundoola, who remained at Arakan.
“Upon information being received of the Burmans having appeared,
advancing upon Rutnapullung, Captain Noton moved from Ramoo with the
whole of his disposable force, to ascertain the strength and objects of
the enemy. On arriving near their position, upon some hills on the left
of the road, in which the Burmans had stockaded themselves, they opened
a smart fire upon the detachment, which, however, cleared the hills,
and formed upon a plain beyond them. In consequence, however, of the
mismanagement of the elephant-drivers, and the want of artillery details,
the guns accompanying the division could not be brought into action;
and as without them it was not possible to make any impression on the
enemy, Captain Noton judged it prudent to return to his station at Ramoo,
where he was joined by three companies of the 40th native infantry,
making his whole force about one thousand strong, of whom less than half
were regulars. With these, Captain Noton determined to await at Ramoo
the approach of the Burmans, until the arrival of reinforcements from
Chittagong.”
In this the captain was most decidedly wrong. It was not only injudicious
to retreat before the barbarian Burmans, but it was reprehensible on his
part to give them so much encouragement and breathing-time. The Burmans
always looked upon the English as “wild foreigners,” and despised them
on account of their creeping, sneaking policy. The first impression made
on their minds by the unresented massacre of Negrais was not forgotten;
and the mission of Alves, Symes, Cox, and Canning, with their undecided,
un-English measures, had added to form the contempt with which they had
learnt to regard the Anglo-Indian government into a tangible shape. These
considerations, joined with the natural arrogance of a semi-civilised
race, with the advantage of a victorious general, with the indecision
of a British officer, all tended to prepare the Burmese for the victory
which was soon to grace their arms. But, in recounting the events at
Ramoo, it must ever be remembered, that the day was lost rather by
British indecision, than gained by Burman valour. Indeed, up to this
time, it is remarkable to what extent snail policy had obtained among the
Indian authorities; and how, partly from want of accurate information,
partly from this mean and truckling spirit, the Anglo-Indian government
had lost consequence in the eyes of the king of Ava. Undoubtedly, the
overcharged work of Colonel Symes had led to an incorrect estimate of
the resources of the country; it is well, however, that I shall hardly
have occasion to return to this, for soon I shall have to record—welcome
task!—the daring scheme of Lord Amherst’s administration, and its
successful, though less fortunate, accomplishment, by Sir Archibald
Campbell. To continue the narrative in the words of the Professor:[270]—
“On the morning of the 13th of May, the enemy advanced from the south,
and occupied, as they arrived, the hills east of Ramoo, being separated
from the British force by the Ramoo river. On the evening of the 14th,
they made a demonstration of crossing the river, but were prevented by
the fire from the two six-pounders with the detachment. On the morning
of the 15th, however, they effected their purpose, and crossed the river
upon the left of the detachment, when they advanced, and took possession
of a tank; surrounded, as usual, with tanks in this situation, by a high
embankment, which protected them from the fire of their opponents.”
However, the captain, who saw the necessity of action, soon took up a
favourable position, and “a sharp fire was kept up on the Burmans as
they crossed the plain to the tank; but they availed themselves with
such dexterity of every kind of cover, and so expeditiously entrenched
themselves, that it was much less effective than was to have been
expected.” Honour is certainly due to the officers and men so perilously
situated; and it gives us satisfactory proof that Captain Noton’s
previous retreat was not caused by want of courage, but by an indecision,
as unaccountable as it was finally disastrous.
The Professor proceeds:—“On the morning of the 17th, the enemy’s trenches
were advanced within twelve paces of the picquets, and a heavy and
destructive fire was kept up by them. At about nine A.M., the provincials
and Muglevy abandoned the tank entrusted to their defence, and it was
immediately occupied by the enemy. The position being now untenable,
a retreat was ordered, and effected with some regularity for a short
distance. The increasing numbers and audacity of the pursuers, and the
activity of a small body of horse attached to their force, by whom the
men that fell off from the main body were instantly cut to pieces, filled
the troops with an ungovernable panic, which rendered the exertions of
their officers to preserve order unavailing. These efforts, however,
were persisted in until the arrival of the party at a rivulet, when the
detachment dispersed; and the siphahis, throwing away their arms and
accoutrements, plunged promiscuously into the water. In the retreat,
Captains Noton, Trueman, and Pringle, Lieutenant Grigg, Ensign Bennet,
and Assistant-surgeon Maysmore, were killed. The other officers engaged,
Lieutenants Scott, Campbell, and Codrington, made their escape; but the
two former were wounded: the loss in men was not ascertained, as many
of them found their way, after some interval and in small numbers, to
Chittagong: according to official returns, between six hundred and eight
hundred had reached Chittagong by the 23rd of May; so that the whole
loss, in killed and taken, did not exceed, probably, two hundred and
fifty.”[271] This was, however, enough to arouse the slumbering ire in
British hearts. Colonels Shapland and James speedily revenged the death
of the captain, whose imprudence had cost him so much, and whose courage
and endurance had availed him so little; soon the Burmese lost their
temporary advantage, and never were they to regain it. At the end of July
the enemy fled from all their positions on the Naf.
The campaign was also speedily terminated in the provinces of Cachar,
and the Burmese were much weakened in all their attempts upon the
Anglo-Indian army.
“We have thus terminated the first period of the system of defensive
operations,” observes the Professor, “and shall now proceed to the more
important enterprises of an offensive war, to which those we have noticed
were wholly subordinate. The results of the operations described were of
a mixed description, but such as to leave no question of the issue of
the contest. In Asam a considerable advance had been made. In Kachar,
also, a forward position had been maintained; although the nature of
the country, the state of the weather, and the insufficiency of the
force, prevented the campaign from closing with the success with which it
had begun. The disaster at Ramoo, although it might have been avoided,
perhaps, by a more decided conduct on the part of the officer commanding,
and would certainly have been prevented by greater promptitude than
was shown on the despatch of the expected reinforcements, reflected no
imputation upon the courage of the regular troops, and, except in the
serious loss of life, was wholly destitute of any important consequences.
In all these situations the Burmas had displayed neither personal
intrepidity nor military skill. Their whole system of warfare resolved
itself into a series of intrenchments, which they threw up with great
readiness and ingenuity. Behind these defences, they sometimes displayed
considerable steadiness and courage; but as they studiously avoided
individual exposure, they were but little formidable in the field as
soldiers. Neither was much to be apprehended from the generalship that
suffered the victory of Ramoo to pass away, without making the slightest
demonstration of a purpose to improve a crisis of such splendid promises,
and which restricted the fruits of a battle gained to the construction of
a stockade.”[272]
There is certainly nothing which better shows the little real
self-reliance possessed by the Burmese than the idle manner in which
they neglected to pursue an advantage. One thing must, however, be
always borne in mind, that up to this time they had always been engaged
with energies whose fate might be decided by a single skirmish, or one
complete rout. They had yet to learn how persevering the efforts of
a civilised state are in war. They had now indeed met their masters,
and were about to feel their inferiority; for the Indian government at
Calcutta were already carrying out an excellent and well-conceived idea,
the history of the progress of which it is now my office to relate. But
first, it were not inapposite to listen to the following account of the
Burmese war by the Burmese themselves; it will afford some amusement,
though its strict truth cannot fail to be somewhat doubted. “In the years
1186 and 1187,” according to the Royal Historiographer, “the Kula-pyee,
or white strangers of the West, fastened a quarrel upon the Lord of the
Golden Palace. They landed at Rangoon, took that place at Prome, and
were permitted to advance as far as Yandabo; for the king, from motives
of piety and regard to life, made no effort whatever to oppose them. The
strangers had spent vast sums of money in their enterprise; and by the
time they reached Yandabo, their resources were exhausted, and they were
in great distress. They petitioned the king, who, in his clemency and
generosity, sent them large sums of money to pay their expenses back, and
ordered them out of the country.”[273]
Ere I proceed to give the English account, I think it right to let the
Burmans speak for themselves; and therefore I have placed this before
the serious history, just as, at Richardson’s, a comic song, by way of
a _bonne bouche_, is placed before the deep tragedy, “Just a-goin’ to
begin.”
Some little time before the operations in Cachar were brought to a
temporary close, Lord Amherst conceived the idea of diverting the
attention of the Burmese from our possessions to their own, and of
turning what had hitherto been a defensive war, on the part of the
English, into an offensive one. Accordingly, after a formal declaration
of war, and the promulgation of an address containing the details of the
origin of the quarrel, the court commenced active preparations for an
expedition into the enemy’s territory. The idea was a good one, and it
was nobly pursued; yet, though it was successful in its ultimate object,
it unfortunately cost the government more than its proceeds in land can
possibly repay for many years. The military resources of the Burmese
were infinitely over-estimated, while the facilities for obtaining food
and proper housing for the troops were also totally unknown, except from
the work of Symes, who evidently caused the whole mischief, as far as
the inadequate outfit was concerned. The consequences of his hasty views
ought to be a warning to all travellers in countries so little known as
Burmah was then, and, indeed, in many points is now. Symes sacrificed
truth for the sake of making an agreeable and amusing book, which it is
to be hoped no one else will do.
“The British government was driven into that war by the insolence and
aggressions of the court of Ava, intoxicated with the uninterrupted
success which had attended all its schemes of aggrandisement from
the days of Alompra. The most ambitious of our governors-general had
entertained no views of conquest in that quarter. Lord Hastings had
anxiously staved off the contest, at the close of his administration, by
a political artifice. But Lord Amherst, the most moderate and pacific,
was compelled to add vast provinces, covered for the most part with
trackless forests, miserably under-peopled, unhealthy, and far beyond
our natural boundaries, to our already enormous empire. In this case
there was everything to dissuade from appropriation. It was known that
the climate of one of the provinces was equally deadly to our European
and our native troops; it was known that many years must elapse before
any of them could support their own indispensable establishments; but
there was no escape. It was absolutely necessary to interpose sufficient
barriers between our peaceable subjects, on a frontier where it was
impossible to maintain large military establishments, and their barbarous
neighbours; to provide places of refuge for the reluctant tributaries,
or half-conquered subjects of the Burmese, from whom we had received
cordial assistance during the war; and, not less, to inflict upon
Ava a chastisement, the smart of which might protect us from future
encroachment and annoyance.”[274]
The plan to be pursued in this campaign was to be as follows:—Rangoon,
the great trading city, was to be the point assailed in the first
instance. This place had its advantages as being the principal maritime
(if it may so be called) place in the Burmese dominions; it was also
remote from the scene of war, that is, not remote enough to admit of
the army remaining where it was in Arakhan, and a fresh levy being made
for the defence of the coast: the harbour was likewise good; and there
the advantages ceased. These manifest good qualities, in the eyes of
the attacking army, were counterbalanced by the extreme unhealthiness
of the place, the difficulty of obtaining food there; a disadvantage,
however, with which the Indian authorities were not acquainted; and the
additional nuisance of the Irawadi not being navigable at the time of
the year selected for the expedition. Upon the acquirement of Rangoon,
the movements of the army were to depend very much upon circumstances,
but an advance was to be attempted in any case. The soldiers for the
enterprise were to be levied both in the presidency of Bengal and in
that of Madras; and the forces were to unite in the harbour of Port
Cornwallis, at the Great Andaman Island, whence the whole squadron was to
proceed to Rangoon, under the general command of Sir Archibald Campbell.
The observations of an able historian will prove of no little
interest:—“The difficulty of collecting a sufficient force for a maritime
expedition from Bengal, owing to the repugnance which the saphahis
entertain to embarking on board vessels, where their prejudices expose
them to many real privations, had early led to a communication with the
presidency of Fort Saint George, where there existed no domestic call
for a large force, and where the native troops were ready to undertake
the voyage without reluctance. The views of the Supreme Government
were promptly met by Sir Thomas Munro, the governor of Madras, and a
considerable force was speedily equipped. The like activity pervaded the
measures of the Bengal authorities, and by the beginning of April the
whole was ready for sea.
“The period of the year at which this expedition was fitted out was
recommended by various considerations of local or political weight.
Agreeably to the information of all nautical men, a more favourable
season for navigating the coast to the eastward could not be selected;
and from the account given by those who had visited Ava, it appeared that
the expedition, upon arriving at Rangoon, would be able to proceed into
the interior without delay; the rising of the river, and the prevalence
of a southeasterly wind, rendering June or July the most eligible months
for an enterprise, which could only be effected by water conveyance,
by which it was asserted that a sufficient force might be conveyed to
Amarapura, the capital, in the course of a month or five weeks. That no
time should be lost in compelling the Burmas to act upon the defensive
was also apparent; as, by the extent of their preparations in Arakan,
Asam, and Kachar, they were evidently manifesting a design, to invade the
frontier with a force that would require the concentration of a large
body of troops for the protection of the British provinces, in situations
where mountains, streams, and forests, could not fail to exercise a
destructive influence upon the physical energies of the officers and
men, and would necessarily prevent the full development of the military
resources of the state. To have remained throughout the rains, therefore,
wholly on the defensive, would have been attended, it was thought, with
a greater expense, and, under ordinary circumstances, with a greater
sacrifice of lives than an aggressive movement, as well as with some
compromise of national reputation. The armament, therefore, was equipped
at once, and was not slow in realizing some of the chief advantages
expected from its operations.”[275]
The Bengal contingent amounted in all to 2,175 men, consisting of two
regiments, the second battalion of the 20th (now 40th) native infantry,
and two companies of artillery; that of Madras was much greater, and
amounted to 9,300 men, making together the somewhat formidable number
of 11,475 men, of whom nearly 5,000 were Europeans. In addition to
the transports, there was a Bengal flotilla of twenty gun-brigs and
rowing-boats, each carrying an eighteen-pounder. The ships in attendance
were H.M.’s sloops _Larne_, Captain Marryatt, and _Sophia_, Captain
Reeves; some Company’s cruisers, and the _Diana_ steam-boat. In the
Madras division were comprised H.M.’s ship _Liffey_, Commodore Grant;
the _Slaney_ sloop of war, and a number of transports and other vessels.
Most of these arrived at Port Cornwallis about the 4th of May, and the
next day the whole fleet set sail for Rangoon, and arrived off the mouth
of that river on the 9th, and anchored within the bar on the following
morning; the vessels then proceeded with the flood to the town of
Rangoon, situated at about twenty-eight miles from the sea, and thus ably
described by a visitor.
“Built on the left bank of the river, by the great Alompra, in
commemoration of his victories, Yangoon, or Rangoon, offers but a very
poor sample of Burman opulence. Its shape is oval, and round the town
is a wooden stockade, formed of teak piles, driven a few feet into the
ground, and in some places twenty feet high. The tops of these are joined
by beams transversely placed, and at every four feet is an embrasure on
the summit of the walls, which gives it a good deal the appearance of an
ancient fortification. A wet ditch protects the town on three sides, the
other is on the bank of the river.
“The interior consists of four principal streets, intersecting each at
right angles, on the sides of which are ranged, with a tolerable degree
of regularity, the huts of the inhabitants. These are solely built with
mats and bamboos, not a nail being employed in their formation: they are
raised invariably two or three feet from the ground, or rather swamp, in
which Rangoon is situated, thereby allowing a free passage for the water
with which the town is inundated after a shower, and at the same time
affording shelter to fowls, ducks, pigs, and pariah dogs, an assemblage
which, added to the inmates of the house, place it on a par with an Irish
hovel. The few brick houses to be seen are the property of foreigners,
who are not restricted in the choice of materials for building, whereas
the Burmans are, on the supposition that were they to build brick
houses, they might become points of resistance against the government.
But even these buildings are erected so very badly, that they have more
the appearance of prisons than habitations. Strong iron bars usurp the
place of windows, and the only communication between the upper and lower
stories is by means of wooden steps placed outside. Only two wooden
houses existed much superior to the rest, and these were the palace of
the Maywoon, and the Rondaye, or Hall of Justice. The former of these,
an old dilapidated building, would have been discreditable as a barn in
England, and the latter was as bad.... Two miles north of Rangoon, on
the highest point of a low range of hills, stands the stupendous pagoda,
called the Shoe Dagon Prah, or Golden Dagon.... It is encircled by two
brick terraces, one above the other; and on the summit rises the splendid
pagoda, covered with gilding, and dazzling the eyes by the reflection of
the rays of the sun. The ascent to the upper terrace is by a flight of
stone steps, protected from the weather by an ornamented roof. The sides
are defended by a balustrade, representing a huge crocodile, the jaws of
which are supported by two colossal figures of a male and female Pulloo,
or evil genius, who, with clubs in their hands, are emblematically
supposed to be guarding the entrance of the temple. On the steps the
Burmans had placed two guns, to enfilade the road; and, when I first
saw this spot, two British soldiers were mounting guard over them, and
gave an indescribable interest to the scene: it seemed so extraordinary
to view our arms thus domineering amidst all the emblems and idols of
idolatry, that, by a stretch of fancy, I could almost suppose I saw the
green monsters viewing with anger and humiliation the profanation of
their sanctuaries.
“After ascending the steps, which are very dark, you suddenly pass
through a small gate, and emerge into the upper terrace, where the great
pagoda, at about fifty yards’ distance, rears its lofty head in perfect
splendour. This immense octagonal gilt-based monument is surrounded by
a vast number of smaller pagodas, griffins, sphinxes, and images of the
Burman deities. The height of the tee,[276] three hundred and thirty-six
feet from the terrace, and the elegance with which this enormous mass is
built, combine to render it one of the grandest and most curious sights a
stranger can notice. From the base it assumes the form of a ball or dome,
and then gracefully tapers to a point of considerable height, the summit
of which is surmounted by a tee, or umbrella, of open iron-work, from
whence are suspended a number of small bells, which are set in motion
by the slightest breeze, and produce a confused though not unpleasant
sound. The pagoda is quite solid, and has been increased to its present
bulk by repeated coverings of brick, the work of different kings, who,
in pursuance of the national superstitions, imagined that, by so doing,
they were performing meritorious acts of devotion.... Facing each of the
cardinal points, and united with the pagoda, are small temples of carved
wood, filled with colossal images of Gaudma. The eastern temple—or, as
we call it, the golden—is a very pretty edifice. The style of building
a good deal resembles the Chinese; it is three stories high, and is
surmounted by a small spire, bearing a tee; the cornices are covered in
the most beautiful manner, and with a variety and neatness of conception
scarcely to be surpassed; and the whole is supported by a number of gilt
pillars.... Round the foot of the pagoda are ranged innumerable small
stone pillars, intended to support lamps on days of rejoicing; and in
their vicinity are large stone and wooden vases, meant for the purpose of
receiving the rice and other offerings made by the pious.”[277]
Such is Rangoon and its great temple, and the reader will feel, as
Major Snodgrass says, that after “we had been so much accustomed
to hear Rangoon spoken of as a place of great trade and commercial
importance, that we could not fail to feel disappointed at its mean and
poor appearance. We had talked,” continues the gallant author, “of its
custom-house, its dock-yards, and its harbour, until our imaginations
led us to anticipate, if not splendour, at least some visible signs
of a flourishing commercial city; but however humble our expectations
might have been, they must still have fallen short of the miserable and
desolate picture which the place presented when first occupied by the
British troops.”[278]
An unpardonable piece of Vandalism was attempted by the English, during
their stay at this place. In the temple there was and is a great bell,
famous for its inscription, and this bell the English endeavoured to ship
for Calcutta; however, they were frustrated by the heeling over of the
boat in which it was being conveyed to the ship; the bell sunk to the
bottom, but was subsequently raised and replaced. There is no extenuation
for such a wanton violation of any place of worship; and though it may
be excusable, and indeed proper, to preserve works of ancient art in
museums, yet it was grossly wrong to take advantage of a victory, to
shock the religious feelings of a people, however far from the truth they
may be according to Christian ideas. The action was as reprehensible
as the stealing system of that most miserable of all mean pretenders,
Napoleon; indeed, it was more so, for the bell was not even an ornament.