“He was married in early life to a daughter of his uncle, the Mekaru prince; but one of his inferior wives, daughter of a comparatively humble officer, early acquired great ascendancy over his mind, and on his coming to the throne, was publicly crowned by his side. On the same day the proper queen was sent out of the palace, and now lives in obscurity. His plan for securing the succession shows that he was aware that even the late king’s will would not secure him from powerful opposition. The king’s death was kept secret for some days, and the interval employed to station a multitude of adherents in different parts of the city, to prevent any gatherings. On announcing the demise, the ceremony of burning was forthwith performed in the palace-yard, at which he appeared as king, with the queen by his side, under the white umbrella, and at once took upon himself all the functions of royalty. Several suspected princes were soon after executed, and many others deprived of all their estates.... Two years after his accession, the king resolved to restore the seat of government to Ava. To this he was induced, partly from the great superiority of the latter location; partly from the devastation of a fire which burnt a great part of Umerapoora, with the principal public buildings; partly from a desire to create a more splendid palace; and partly (perhaps, not least) from the ill omen of a vulture lighting on the royal spire.[264] The greater part of his time, for two years, was spent at Ava, in temporary buildings, and superintending in person the erection of a palace, twice the size of the old one, and other important buildings. During this period, many citizens, especially those who had been burnt out, and numbers of the court, settled in the new city, and the place became populous. On completing the palace (February, 1824), the king returned to Umerapoora, and, after brilliant parting festivities, came from thence with great pomp and ceremony, attended by the various governors, Chobwant, and highest officers. The procession, in which the white elephant, decorated with gold and gems, was conspicuous, displayed the glories of the kingdom, and great rejoicings pervaded all ranks.”
It was at this time that the portentous omens that had menaced the Burman monarchy found a corroboration in truth; the glow of enmity, never to be extinguished even in the hearts of civilised men, fanned by the breath of presumption, had burnt into a flame that scorched and scared the weaker party. We must stay awhile to consider the causes, and which led to the appeal to arms in 1824.
It may be imagined that an outbreak of some kind was far from being unexpected on the part of the Anglo-Indian government. There were two interests striving against each other and the world—or rather the Indian world—within the territories of Burmah. The first of these, creating more apparent commotion and less real damage, was the struggle between the dog-like royal family for the bone-like tiara; the second, more dangerous and more concealed, was the envious and avaricious passions of the nobles, or more properly, the officials employed by the Burmese government to defeat its wishes and objects; a task which the officials of every administration seldom fail to perform to the complete dissatisfaction of all parties. This has been the true cause of many disturbances in Burmah; and I am compelled to dissent in some degree from that feeling which causes Professor Wilson to say, that, “animated by the reaction, which suddenly elevated the Burmans from a subjugated and humiliated people, into conquerors and sovereigns, the era of their ambition may be dated from the recovery of their political independence; and their liberation from the temporary yoke of the Peguers was the prelude to their conquest of all the surrounding realms.”[265] This might be very true of the immediate successors of the great Alompra; but the power of the dignitaries had, by the time or which we now speak, risen to a very great pitch, which insensibly overawed and restrained the holder of the diadem, whoever he might be; and though, indeed, the “vigorous despotism” of Men-ta-ra-gyee might temporarily set at defiance this incomprehensible power, yet under the government of Nun-sun, the distant viceroys first, and gradually the less remote officers, resumed their former powerful position. And though they acted in subordination to the crown, and showed a species of heroism in defending its interests, yet they had raised the storm; and it was for them, they knew, to battle with it, and uphold that single bond, the destruction of which would have been totally ruinous to them.
The organized forays into our territory of Chittagong hardly assumed any definite form until the end of 1823. “The Burmans,” says Professor Wilson, “claimed the right of levying a toll upon all boats entering the mouth of the river, although upon the British side; and on one occasion, in January, 1823, a boat laden with rice, having entered the river on the west or British side of the channel, was challenged by an armed Burman boat, which demanded duty. As the demand was unprecedented, the Mugs, who were British subjects, demurred payment; on which the Burmans fired upon them, killed the manjhee, or steersman, and then retired. This outrage was followed by reports of the assemblage of armed men on the Burman side of the river, for the purpose of destroying the villages on the British territory; and in order to provide against such a contingency, as well as to prevent the repetition of any aggression upon the boats trafficking on the Company’s side of the river, the military guard at Tek-naf, or the mouth of the Naf, was strengthened from twenty to fifty men, of whom a few were posted on the adjoining island of Shapurí; a small islet or sandbank at the mouth of the river on the British side, and only separated from the mainland by a narrow channel, which was fordable at low water.”[266]
This act attracted the attention of the Arakhan viceroy, who thereupon demanded its unconditional surrender, claiming it as the property of the Burmese government. This was certainly untrue; and the existence of many documents and facts, favourable to the British claims, caused the resident to propose a friendly discussion of the matter. The fruitless negotiation met an almost decisive blow on the 24th of September, when one thousand Burmans landed and overpowered the British force, “killing three and wounding four of the sipahees stationed there.”
“In order, however,” observes Wilson, “to avoid till the last possible moment the necessity of hostilities, the government of Bengal, although determined to assert their just pretensions, resolved to afford to the court of Ava an opportunity of avoiding any collision. With this intent, they resolved to consider the forcible occupation of Shapurí as the act of the local authorities alone [as, in the first case, it probably was], and addressed a declaration to the Burman government, recapitulating the past occurrences, and calling upon the court of Ava to disavow its officers in Arakan. The declaration was forwarded by ship to Rangoon, with a letter addressed to the viceroy of Pegu. The tone of this despatch was that of firmness, though of moderation; but when rendered into the Burmese language, it may, probably, have failed to convey the resolved and conciliatory spirit by which it was dictated, as subsequent information, of the most authentic character, established the fact of its having been misunderstood as a pusillanimous attempt to deprecate the resentment of the Burmese; and it was triumphantly appealed to at the court of Ava as a proof that the British government of India was reluctant to enter upon the contest, because it was conscious of possessing neither courage nor resources to engage in it with any prospect of success; it had no other effect, therefore, than that of confirming the court of Ava in their confident expectation of reannexing the eastern provinces of Bengal to the empire, if not of expelling the English from India altogether.”[267] However, the British reoccupied Shapurí, and stockaded themselves in that post, while, in retaliation, the Burmese seized upon the master and officers of the Company’s vessel Sophia, and sent them up the country.
To continue the story in the words of Macfarlane, who has here ably epitomized the history of Wilson:—“More and more confirmed in their idea that we were afraid, from four thousand to five thousand Burmese and Asamese advanced from Asam into the province of Cachar, and began to stockade themselves at a post within five miles of the town of Sylhet, and only two hundred and twenty-six miles from Calcutta. Major Newton, the officer commanding on the Sylhet frontier, concentrated his detachment and marched against the invaders. It was at daybreak on the 17th of January, 1824, that he came in sight of their stockade and of a village adjoining, of which they had taken possession. The Burmese in the village presently gave way, but those in the stockades made a resolute resistance, and were not driven out until they had lost about one hundred men, and had killed six of our sepoys. They then fled to the hills. Shortly after this action, Mr. Scott, our commissioner, arrived at Sylhet, and from that point he advanced to Bhadrapoor, in order to maintain a more ready communication with the Burmese authorities. On the 31st of January, Mr. Scott received a message from the Burmese general, who justified his advance into Cachar, and declared that he had orders to follow and apprehend certain persons wherever they might take refuge. In reply, this Burmese general, who held the chief command in Asam, was told that he must not disturb the frontiers of the Company, nor interfere in the affairs of its allies; and that the Burmese invaders must evacuate Cachar, or the forces of the British government would be compelled to advance both into Cachar and Asam. To this communication no answer was received.
“It was clearly the object of the Burmese to procrastinate the negotiations until they had strengthened themselves in the advanced positions they had occupied. The rajah of Synteea, who had been imperiously summoned to the Burmese camp, and commanded to prostrate himself before the shadow of the Golden Foot, threw himself upon the British government for protection; and various native chiefs, whose territories lay between the frontiers of the Burmese empire and the frontiers of the British dominions, called loudly for English aid. Thus, the south-east frontier of Bengal had in fact been kept in constant dread and danger of invasion for more than a year, while the adjoining and friendly territories had been exposed to the destructive inroads and the overbearing insolence of the Burmese and Asamese, for many years.
“Major Newton did not follow the Burmese he had routed, but, after driving them from their stockade, he returned to Sylhet, and withdrew the whole of his force from Cachar. Almost as soon as the major was within his own frontier, the Burmese advanced again into the country from which he had driven them, and stockaded some stronger positions. They were joined by another considerable force, while another detachment, 2,000 strong, collected in their rear, as a reserve, or column of support. Still advancing, and stockading as they advanced, the main body of the Burmese pushed their stockades on the north bank of the river Surma, to within 1,000 yards of the British post at Bhadrapoor. Captain Johnstone, who commanded at that post, had but a very small force with him, yet he succeeded in dislodging the invaders from their unfinished works at the point of the bayonet, and in driving them beyond the Surma. This was on the 13th of February. On the following day, Lieutenant-Colonel Bowen joined, and took the command over Captain Johnstone, and instantly marched in pursuit of the retreating enemy. They were found stockading themselves in a strong position on the opposite bank of the Jelingha. As soon as our troops were over, and had fixed their bayonets, the Burmese cleared out of their stockade, and fled to the hills. But there was another division of the army of the Lord of the White Elephant, which had stockaded a much stronger position at Doodpatlee, where their front was covered by the Surma river, and their rear rested on steep hills. The exposed face of this intrenchment was defended by a deep ditch, about fourteen feet wide; a strong fence of bamboo spikes ran along the outer edge of the ditch, and the approach on the land side was through jungle and high grass. Lieutenant-Colonel Bowen, however, marched against this formidable stockade, and attacked it. The Burmese remained passive till our troops advanced to the bamboo spikes, when they poured upon them a destructive and well-maintained fire, which completely checked their advance, although they kept their ground. When Lieutenant Armstrong had been killed, and four other officers wounded, and about 150 of our sepoys killed or wounded, Bowen called off the attacking party, and retired to Jatrapoor, at a short distance. On the 27th of February, Colonel Innes joined the force at Jatrapoor, with four guns and a battalion of fresh troops, and assumed the command. But, in the mean while, the Burmese had retreated from their formidable position, and retired into their own country, evacuating the whole of Cachar.”[268]
Such was the origin and early progress of a war fated to be most disastrous to all parties concerned in it. We must not introduce so great a man as the Maha Bundoola at the close of a chapter; so we end it here.