1889-1890
MANDALAY
It was with difficulty that the British Government had lived so long at
peace with Theebaw, King of Burma. In 1883 he sent a mission to
Europe, ostensibly to study western civilisation, but it was recognised
that in reality he was making advances to the French Government, who
were of course our neighbours on the east, in Siam. There was also
friction over the demarcation of the Manipur frontier on the west, but
the actual ground for the outbreak of hostilities arose over a
commercial question. An English trading company found that King
Theebaw had sold over again to the French the rights over some forest
lands for which the company had paid seven years' tolls in advance.
The High Court of Mandalay upheld their sovereign's proceedings, so
that the corporation were driven to appeal to the British Government to
vindicate their claims. King Theebaw, however, flatly refused to
discuss the matter with the Chief Commissioner of Lower Burma. The
British Government welcomed the occasion to {83} send an ultimatum to
King Theebaw "which aimed at a settlement of all the main matters in
dispute between the two Governments,"[1] and simultaneously instructed
Sir Harry Prendergast to prepare a force to march on Mandalay.
[1] _Parliamentary Papers_ (Burma), 1886.
A defiant answer having been returned by the King, orders for the
advance were issued. A fleet of transports was escorted by a few
vessels from the Royal Navy up the Irrawaddy. On November 14, 1885, at
a point about twenty-eight miles beyond our frontier post at Thayetmyo,
the forts at Minhla barred the passage of the river. Our naval guns
then opened fire with good effect, and when the troops landed there was
no resistance.
[Sidenote: Theebaw surrenders]
The advance continued, and ten days later a similar engagement took
place about seven miles from Ava. After the naval guns had silenced
the enemy's artillery, the Hampshire Regiment was landed, and drove the
defenders from their entrenchments. At 4 p.m. on November 24 a royal
state barge appeared bearing a flag of truce, and a message that the
King "was well disposed in mind and heart."[2] To this a reply was
sent that nothing less than the unconditional surrender of the King and
his capital would satisfy the British Government, and that the response
must be received within twelve hours.
[2] Despatch dated January 13, 1886.
The picturesqueness of the scene was so irresistible that even the
official despatch breaks into description of the "far-famed city of
Ava, {84} with its mouldering monasteries and decaying walls. On the
banks are batteries bristling with guns, and parapets alive with
scarlet-clad soldiers," etc., etc.
King Theebaw's reply was received by the time specified, and when
translated was found to express a frame of mind that was acceptable to
the invaders. The subsequent advance from Ava was therefore unopposed,
and on November 28 British troops made their way peacefully through the
streets of Mandalay. In the afternoon of the next day the King and his
Queens and a suitable retinue were conveyed on board a steamer and
transported to Rangoon, _en route_ to India. As a compliment to their
former estate, the escort was detailed from the Royal Navy. It is said
that Supya-lat offered violent resistance to this deportation, saying
that she would prefer death or any fate at the hands of the Englishmen
to life as a state prisoner with her husband. But she had to conform.
By Proclamation on January 1, 1886, Upper Burma was declared a part of
the British Empire, and the Chief Commissioner, Sir Charles Bernard,
transferred his headquarters from Rangoon to Mandalay.
[Sidenote: Dacoity]
Sir Harry Prendergast had completed his task in the occupation of the
capital, but the subjugation of the vast province of Upper Burma,
covering about 100,000 square miles, was a very different matter. The
collapse of the Civil Government and the disbanding of the native army
led to a state of anarchy. Pretenders sprang {85} up who were
exploited by enterprising ex-officers, and became leaders of the
various bands of dacoits that infested the land. These armed bands
were a terror to the people, for they lived on the country and robbed
and looted freely but it was not till we had won the confidence of the
peaceable peasants that they would venture to give us information as to
the whereabouts of their enemies. The fact that there was no cohesion
or community of interest between these marauders made them the more
troublesome to suppress, as each one had to be dealt with separately.
The pacification of the country was entrusted to Sir George White with
a force of three infantry brigades. But as there was no national party
in arms against him, so there was no organised resistance; the enemy
were not soldiers, but a lawless rabble led by brigands.
In his report of this work in a country which he describes as "one vast
military obstacle," he says:
"The actual resistance offered to our troops was not very trying to
disciplined well-armed soldiers, but small bodies of these soldiers
have often had to stand up against bands whose numbers were estimated
in thousands. Between April 1 and July 31 over one hundred affairs
took place, and few days elapsed without the occurrence of fighting in
some part of the newly acquired province."[3]
[3] See _Despatch_, July 17, 1886.
After a time it was found possible partially {86} to replace the
soldiers by specially recruited armed military police, who were thickly
distributed in all the disturbed districts; and gradually the more
peaceable inhabitants realised that every time a military raid was
organised there would be a smaller number of thieves and robbers left
in the land.
When the bulk of Sir George White's expeditionary force was withdrawn,
Brigadier-General George Wolseley, who had been commanding the Mandalay
Brigade, assumed the command of the permanent garrison. It was as his
substitute that Gatacre held the post from October 1889 to October
1890, with a few weeks' interval in the spring. Gatacre had been
nearly four years in the same office on the Headquarter Staff, and his
letters show that after the departure of General Chapman in April 1889
he was anxiously watching for some new opening for himself. The change
to an independent command was very welcome, and not less so was the
change from the social life of Headquarters to the wild simplicity of
Upper Burma. The military direction of such a vast and unsettled
province would provide scope for administration and opportunity for
personal exertion--would, in short, afford all the arduous duties in
which Gatacre found his delight.
[Sidenote: Fort Dufferin]
The ancient citadel of Mandalay is now called Fort Dufferin. It
consists of a vast quadrilateral enclosure, in the centre of which
stands the palace, surrounded by gardens and a high teak-wood stockade.
The walls are 10 ft. thick {87} and 29 ft. high; each side of the
square is a mile and a quarter in length; at regular intervals there
are gates leading to bridges over a moat that is more than 200 ft.
wide. Along the walls are numerous picturesque watch-houses with
little seven-roofed pagodas over each gate. These buildings provided
quarters and offices for both the civil and military departments.
Sir Charles Crosthwaite, who was Chief Commissioner of Burma when
Gatacre took up the command, writes:
"I lived in one of the pagoda erections over a gate in the Mandalay
wall, and there was a long flight of steps leading up to my rooms. I
can see Sir William now flying up the steps and rushing down them,
after he had seen me, and vaulting on to his horse. He was
indefatigable."[4]
[4] August 18, 1909.
The reception rooms in the palace itself were fitted up as a club for
the officers of the garrison. Some men were playing whist there one
evening in November 1889, when Gatacre came in, and going up to one of
the players asked him if he knew anything about transport. The
officer, busy with his cards, replied "Not a damn!" which elicited the
unexpected response:
"Will you be my transport officer?"
When the hand was finished the subaltern turned round, and for the
first time perceived who was speaking to him.
"I am afraid you are chaffing me, sir."
{88}
"Not at all. The last two transport officers I have had knew
everything--one could not teach them anything. Are you willing to
learn?"
That officer did his best to learn, and remained Gatacre's transport
officer till his regiment left the station. He remembers especially
his General's friendly manner, tells us how the dignity and power of
his personality enabled him to dispense with the formalities of his
position, and to do things which in other men might have resulted in
undue familiarity. There was an arrangement by which the other staff
officer carried on the work in the office, while the transport officer
accompanied the General on all his tours. It is to this officer that
we are indebted for the following story.
[Sidenote: Maymyo]
About forty miles from Mandalay there is a little hill-station called
Maymyo, at an elevation of 3,500 ft. It is now full of red-brick
buildings, and is the headquarters of the Lieutenant-General commanding
the Burma Division, and there is a railway up from Mandalay which runs
on to Lashio. But in 1889 Maymyo was but a collection of huts and
tents, and the road that led thither was not only execrable to travel
on, but infested with robbers. However, it served as a sanatorium, and
the sick folk from Mandalay had to brave the dangers of the road. The
transport officer had been spending a month at Maymyo with his wife,
and, having met with exceptional difficulties in making his journey
down, was very much alive to its discomforts. Only two days before
another party had been {89} attacked, their native driver killed, and
their kit dacoited.
When they met next morning the General told the officer to lay a dak to
Maymyo, as he intended going there next day. The thought of doing that
journey again so soon was most distasteful, but the officer only asked:
"What time do we start?"
"There is no 'we' in it. You don't go. I am going alone."
"That's ridiculous!" followed on, with such simplicity and directness
that both broke into laughter.
The idea was ridiculous, but it was carried out. The subaltern's pride
of office was wounded by his being thus set on one side, but when he
realised that it was done out of consideration to himself, and that no
one else was taken, he could not but be satisfied. Risk and exertion
were like magnets to draw Gatacre; he went alone, dispensing even with
an orderly. The fastest and most active ponies were always sent out
for the General's use, and it would have been difficult to find man and
beast to keep up with him when on such an excursion. He must have made
a very early start, for he rode forty miles up into the mountains,
inspected the detachment of the Madras Native Infantry quartered there,
and returned in time to dine with the Chief Commissioner. There he met
Sir Frederick Fryer, to whom he related his day's work. It afterwards
transpired that two of the ponies were broken down by the journey, but
{90} even for such a mishap the General found a cheerful use. When
rallied by one of his commanding officers on this point, he replied:
"Hard on the ponies! Not at all. Why, my dear fellow, it is really a
good thing, for the useless ones get weeded out."
In 1886 Sir George White wrote that it would be a "long time before
dacoity died of inanition."[5] But British methods, worked with
British perseverance, had triumphed over Burmese institutions. In 1889
Sir Charles Crosthwaite could write that "disorder and lawlessness had
been put down, and the power of the Government firmly established and
fully acknowledged."[6] It was, however, reserved for Gatacre to equip
a little expedition which was to penetrate into the Kachin Hills, where
a leader known as Kan Hlaing was harassing the country. The General
sent the following telegram to Calcutta on November 25, 1889:
[5] _Despatch_, August 18, 1886.
[6] _Report of Administration_, August 1887 to August 1889.
"Chief Commissioner has applied for services of troops to operate from
Bhamo against Lwe Saing Tonhon Kachins, in Meteilaing, to effect
capture or surrender of Kan Hlaing and reduction of Tonhon, the chief
town. After effecting this, to march southwards in Binhong and attack
pretender Sairyawuiniz. A column to co-operate from Ruby Mines
district, marching on Momeit. Bhamo Column to consist of 75 rifles
Hants, two guns No. 2 Bombay, 100 rifles 17th Bengal Infantry, and 250
rifles Mogoung Levy. Momeit {91} Column to consist of 50 rifles Hants,
150 Bengal Native Infantry from Mandalay. Have complied with his
wishes, made all necessary arrangements. Column will start from Bhamo
Dec. 1. The Momeit Column will reach Momeit about Dec. 10. Solicits
Army's approval."
[Illustration: Kachin Bridge over which five hundred men crossed in one
day]
The Bhamo Column was under Major Blundell's command, and the Momeit
Column under Major Greenway. Lwe Saing was captured on December 23,
and Tonhon on the 24th, after sharp fighting. Early in January the
force crossed the Shweli River, which was a fierce mountain torrent, so
strong that the rafts were swept away, and a man drowned. The passage
over the various rocky streams was a great difficulty; in one place a
swinging bridge was rigged up with transport ropes and timber; on
another occasion the whole column of five to six hundred men with their
stores were passed over the Kachin Bridge shown in the picture. A
report arrived that the rebel Prince Sawanai and the dacoit leader, Kan
Hlaing, were strongly stockaded at Manton, three marches farther on,
and that he had a following of 2,000 men. The two columns met as
arranged, and captured the village, though it was fiercely defended.
Before the force left Manton, Brigadier-General Gatacre and Colonel
Strover, the Commissioner, joined the column.
The following letters give the General's own impressions of the country.
{92}
[Sidenote: 1890]
IN THE DEFILE JUST BELOW BHAMO,
_February_ 8, 1890.
"We expect a first-class trip, and should be away about six weeks. We
take a month's provisions with us, and a fortnight's follow us. There
is a great charm to me in going into quite an unknown country, full of
wild beasts and savages; there is nearly every animal under the sun
said to be in these jungles, and the place has every appearance of it:
tracks of all sorts along the river-banks. But we shall soon see for
ourselves. I fancy the scenery will be grand, and we shall probably
get many beautiful orchids."
BERNARDMYO, _March_ 20, 1890.
"I have only a moment for a line to say I've 'come out alive' at this
end of the country, which is fortunate. It is one of the roughest
journeys I have ever done, and we have been wet through for days, with
no change possible; great mountains, with only goat tracks to move by,
had to be climbed two or three times in the day, which made going most
tedious. By marching from 5 a.m. to 6 and sometimes 7 p.m. we could
only do thirty miles a day; this was for a ten days' movement, so you
may imagine the country is rough. It's a magnificent land,
however--wild elephants, lots of tigers, and beasts of every
description everywhere, and the inhabitants perfect savages, but clever
beyond measure at agriculture in their valleys, and on the hill-sides
at weaving, knitting, basket-work, etc., of all kinds. I went to find
the column I sent out some three months ago, and found it about 150
miles off; they had had a good deal of fighting, and lost a matter of
thirty men, which was unfortunate, but it might have been {93} more. I
have ordered them all back, except 100 men to hold a post at Mantone,
for if the rains commence I should never get them back at all, owing to
the impossibility of the roads. I never saw such a desperate country
for roads, as they call them; a goat would be puzzled with some of them.
"I hope the Squire and all of you are well. How I should like to see
you all, and have a dinner at Gatacre! I have not had any real good
food for about two months, but, though rough, we enjoy what we do get."
[Sidenote: A rough journey]
Though the leader Kan Hlaing succeeded in effecting his escape, the
expedition had good effect, for his following was dispersed and his
prestige broken. To all those who had taken part in this "rough
journey" it brought another clasp to their medal.
On March 27 Brigadier-General Wolseley reached Mandalay on his return
from leave, and took over the command next day. But before two months
were out, he was wanted to officiate elsewhere, and Gatacre was sent
back to Mandalay. He had been very sorry to "give up charge," and was
proportionately pleased to resume the command. In his letters he
speaks of having initiated many experiments which interested him very
much. Writing to his sister in July 1890, he says:
"I have commenced a Government farm here on a large scale, about eight
hundred acres at present, but will run up to four or five thousand
acres. I have started elephant ploughs, as the ground is so hard owing
to want of rain that the {94} ordinary bullock plough is not strong
enough, and if we do not plough now the season will be too far gone to
enable us to get a crop off the ground this year. The elephant plough
has to be specially made, or the brute will pull it to pieces;
sometimes they get frightened, and then it is best to clear out, for
though the plough weighs half a ton, it is nothing to a frightened
elephant, who goes straight home with it through everything. I hope to
send you a report on the working of the farm just now; the Squire would
like to read it. I wish I had that big plough here that we used to
have at Coton; it would be just the thing for this land. I forget how
many horses it took, but I should put a couple of elephants in."
[Sidenote: Down with fever]
During these summer months he suffered repeatedly from fever.
THE PALACE, MANDALAY,
_July_ 22, 1890.
"I have got influenza, which is a great nuisance, as it keeps me from
my work, and the doctor warns me solemnly not to go in draughts and to
keep out of the sun; but as my present abode is merely a large gilt
shed, about thirty yards square, with looking-glass panels open to the
four winds of heaven, it is rather difficult to follow his advice.
Fortunately the open air always agreed with me, and I feel better
to-day, so I hope I may soon be all right again. The rain keeps off,
and I am afraid we shall have a famine if we do not get heavy rain
soon, for the rice will fail. I wish I could hear somewhat of my
future; it is a nuisance being left in doubt as to what I am going to
do.
{95}
"I wish I had the services of Payne for a bit in the palace gardens; I
would make them so pretty. We have rocks, grass, water, everything
that one could wish to work upon, but have no artistic people who
understand gardening. I am working at it, and getting seeds, and hope
to make it a pretty place by-and-by."
MYINGYAN, IRRAWADDY,
_August_ 30, 1890.
"When I last wrote I was in full steam down the Irrawaddy with the
Chief Commissioner, but I got a bad go of fever, and the doctor put me
ashore, as he thought I would have a better chance. I was rather bad,
but the cool breeze on the bank has made a wonderful change, and has
quite pulled me round. I've had no fever since I came, and am
beginning to feel all right again. Of course, I haven't much walk in
me, but that soon comes back with food--that's of course the difficulty
in a place like this, but I've managed to get hold of a few chickens
and cook them with my servant. Some of them have turned out a success,
others smell of kerosine oil, but they all have to be eaten, so it
doesn't much matter. I mean to go back to Mandalay in three or four
days, and shall be glad to get on my horse again, for it doesn't suit
me to be on my back. I have lots to do, and have a man to write from
dictation, which saves me writing out long official letters, but still
I'm anxious about many things which are being carried out at Mandalay.
This place is just opposite Pakoko, where John commanded for a long
time, and is very pretty, especially now the river is in full flood,
miles across (five or six at least)."
{96}
S.S. "GEORGE," ON THE IRRAWADDY ABOVE MANDALAY,
_September_ 22, 1890.
"I'm off on my travels again, you see. We started this morning on
inspection duty at Bhamo and Shwebo. We should arrive at the former
place on 26th. We stay there two days, and then come down to Shwebo on
right bank of river; the trip will do me good, I think, and will give
me some relaxation while on board. I'm better, but not up to much yet.
"I heard from the C.-in-C. Bombay, Sir George Greaves, to the effect
that he was applying for my services as A.G. of Bombay Army. If I get
this it will be nice, and I should see a good deal of John. It's a
long time since I've seen him now.
"The quail here have been abundant, and the snipe are coming in, but no
bags have been made yet. I only speak from hearsay, as I have been
unable to go out myself, as you will understand.
"I wish you could all run up the river with me on this steamer; you
would enjoy the voyage--such beautiful scenery, and such a river."
[Sidenote: A new post]
In October the "rightful owner" returned to the command at Mandalay,
and Gatacre handed over finally. He brought away many specimens of
Burmese art and handicraft. His own artistic faculties enabled him to
appreciate all that was quaint or interesting in every locality that he
visited. In later life he took great pleasure in showing his friends
the objects of value or beauty that he had collected, and {97}
evidently looked back on these years of strenuous service with real
delight.
From Mandalay he brought away a teak-wood drum that had belonged to
King Theebaw. It is cut out of a solid trunk, and stands about three
feet from the ground, weighs about a ton, and is covered with the most
exquisite carving. He took special pleasure in this piece of
furniture, and in a beautiful silver plate from the Shan States.
In November 1890 Gatacre relinquished his substantive post at
Headquarters, on his appointment as Adjutant-General to the Bombay
Army, with the temporary and local rank of Brigadier-General.
{98}