CHAPTER VI
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 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.
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, 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.
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 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 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.
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 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."
"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.
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 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 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 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."
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.
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 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."
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 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."
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.
"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)."
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."
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 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.