A witness of Uva rebellion

S. PATHIRAVITANA

What were the impressions that the new rulers of Ceylon had of the country and its people when the Kandyan Chieftains transferred power to them in 1815? Here are some:

"The wild stories current among the natives throw no light whatever on the ancient history of the island. The earliest period at which we can look for any authentic information is the arrival of the Portuguese under Almeida in 1505." Captain R. Percival, An Account of the Island of Ceylon.

"The Singalese, like the nations of Europe in the Middle Ages... possess no accurate record of events; are ignorant of genuine history; and are not sufficiently advanced to realise it. Instead of the one, they have legendary tales; and instead of the other, historical romances..." - John Davy, An Account of the Interior of Ceylon.

"The proportions of natives who can read and write their own difficult characters may astonish, and might shame, nations who have looked on the Cingalese as illiterate savages." - Major Forbes, Eleven Years in Ceylon.

The last observation, though it may sound flattering to our vanity, also reminds us that most Europeans thought of the 'Cingalese'as being 'illiterate savages.' In a way it is not surprising, therefore, that some of us who were raised on the English tongue and urged to model ourselves on Eurocentric modes of thought should come to share some of the opinions expressed about ourselves above.

What is surprising, however, is that even after fifty years or more of having come into our own, some of those who occupy the highest positions in the land still display these very prejudices handed down to us through our educational system. Sadly enough very little is being done to change this frame of mind.

That, however, is not going to be the theme of this article. We are going to see how a fairly objective writer like John Davy set about recording his impressions, somewhat like Robert Knox did a little over a century before him. When Davy arrived here in 1815 as the army surgeon and personal physician to the Governor-General, Sigiriya was unknown and unheard of. The Mahawamsa was lying undiscovered in a Sabaragamuwa poth gula.

Anuradhapura with its marvellous necklace of innumerable tanks was heard of by Davy only as a 'small mean village, in the middle of a desert'.

He called the Sinhalese, aborigenes, not in any derogatory sense, but in the original Latin sense, ab origene, those who had lived from the beginning. The other inhabitants, then known as Malabars, he calls 'foreigners' who are found to the north and the east of the country and a group called the Moors are found everywhere "like the Jews in Europe, whom, in some respects they resemble."

However, "Three hundred years ago," says Davy, "there is good reason to believe that the Singalese were one people, without any points of difference, excepting such trifling ones as might result from the peculiarities of climate, and of other physical circumstances of the lowlands and the highlands.

But this article is about the 1818 Uva Rebellion and John Davy's somewhat limited role in it. He was on his way to Kandy along with Governor Brownrigg and his wife who were returning after a pleasant visit to Trincomalee. News of the rebellion came as a complete surprise to this little group just as they left Kantale.

They heard that Ehelepola was also in the Matale area and, ever suspicious of him, feared that he had joined the rebellion which was begun by his brother in law Keppetipola in Uva. But at Nalanda instead of being captured by the rebels as they feared, Ehelepola was there to welcome them with elephants and all.

Any mob could have easily overwhelmed this small group for there were only two or three dragoons to protect them. Their fears, however, did not materialise and they slipped back into Kandy from where they could not get out for another year.

For the first six months of that year they lived in fear and anxiety; the rebellion, though it broke out in 'accidental circumstances, without combination or system' spread swiftly and before long 'every chief of consequence' had joined it. The first to fall was the Government Agent in Uva. He went to investigate the hanging of a moorman who had incurred the ill will of the villagers of Wellassa and sentenced to be hanged by a 'pretender to the throne'. The Agent and his small military detachment were greeted with a shower of arrows. Those who survived withdrew with great difficulty.

The mood into which this tragedy plunged Governor Brownrigg and his personal physician in Kandy is described by Davy rather nervously: "This was a melancholy time to those who were on the scene of action; many began to despond and augur from bad to worse, and to prophesy (what indeed was far from improbable) that the few districts not yet against us, would join the enemy; that the comunication between Colombo and our head-quarters at Kandy would be cut off; and that we should be very soon obliged to evacuate the country, and fight our way out of it." But just as swiftly as the rebellion had spread it also had a dramatic reversal.

Keppetipola had suffered a few defeats even though about a thousand men supported his efforts. And then began dissensions among the leaders. Another rebel chief imprisoned Keppetipola and the pretender to the throne and set up his own man to succeed to the throne. That was the beginning of the end. District after district surrendered to the British. Finally Keppetipola himself was taken along with the token of sovereignty - the Tooth Relic.

The savagery with which the British fought back to retain control of the country is not glossed over by Davy. Being close to the Governor, however, he cannot let him down. So he says that the government cannot be blamed for the ‘irregularities’ that took place. They were, he says ‘contrary to express orders and never had the countenance of any officer high in command’.

That is something that Paul E Pieris seriously contests in his Sinhale and the Patriots (p 231) and points out that at one point, horrendous as it may sound, they were even contemplating “exterminating the whole race.”

Reflecting on the events just described Davy is constrained to express regret at what happened.”When one considers this rebellion and its consequences, one almost regrets, that we ever entered the Kandyan country. The evils immediately resulting from it, certainly greatly exceed the original benefit we conferred on the natives, in removing a tyrant from the throne.”

Davy’s words should remain a perpetual reminder to the do-gooders in the West that they should refrain from imposing their notion of good on people who have their own notions of what is good and bad for them. For he realised that the Sinhalese believed “a King is so essential that without him there would be no order or harmony, only confusion and dissension that would soon prove fatal to society.”

Once peace was restored to the Kandyan provinces Davy took time out to travel in the country and to take a good look around.

The first part of his trip to Adam’s Peak was by a gig - a two wheeled horse drawn carriage which took him up to Panadura. From there it was a dolava, a palanquin which bore him to the foot of Adam’s Peak.

Part of the climb was done seated on a chair strapped to two poles which was carried on the shoulders of bearers.

At Balangoda or a little beyond he saw one of the casualties of the Uva Rebellion. He was talking to a man who was telling him about the prevailing famine as a result of the suppression of the rebellion.

The people in the affected region were moving towards Balangoda in search of food. While talking to him a woman walked up to him. ‘She was Famine personified’, he said said that she hadn’t eaten for three days.

He forded the Belihul Oya which was in spate at a point where, had he missed his foot, would have got washed into the Walawe basin. He was admiring the clouds and the low country below him which stretched out like a sea when he noticed that there was no cultivation or even a single house about the place or even signs of habitation.

What remained were the ruins of houses, devastated paddy fields “and a human skull that lay by the road-side, under a tree, to which the fatal rope was still attached, gave us the history of what we saw, in language that could not be mistaken”.

In a few words Davy vividly details the measures the Governor had to adopt to quell the rebellion: “When a district rose in rebellion, one or more military posts were established in it; martial law was proclaimed; the dwellings of the resisting inhabitants were burnt; their fruit trees were often cut down, and the country was scoured in every direction by small detachments, who were authorised to put to death all who made opposition, or were found with arms in their hands...Such a system of warfare as this, of which I have partially sketched the outline, had better not be given in detail.”

However, under this reign of terror introduced by Brownrigg he describes what happened to Giriyagama in Kandy, “ a beautiful little district, almost free from jungle; consisting of rounded hills, charmingly spotted with clumps of palms and other fruit trees, and of narrow valleys, laid out in paddy-fields.

Before the rebellion, it was the garden of the country, well cultivated, productive, and populous; now, it is merely the wreck of what it was, and one sees nothing that does not denote its wretchedness, and the example that was made of it on account of the resistance of its inhabitants.”

Why this vandalism? Brownrigg could not understand why relations soured between the Chiefs and him. The first two years after the signing of the Convention all seem to go well, at least from the British point of view. Kandy was tranquil. The Convention conditions observed. Governance was mild and indulgent. The ‘tyrant’ was got rid of with the help of a benefactor. And now, were they preparing to bite the benefactor’s hand?

Davy provides an answer. “There was no sympathy between us and them; no one circumstance to draw or bring us together, and innumerable ones of a repulsive nature. The Chiefs were far from satisfied.” The dissatisfaction largely arose because the British did not understand the culture of the Sinhalese.

“The King of Great Britain was merely a name: they had no notion of a king ruling over them at the distance of thousands of miles: they had no notion of delegated authority: they wanted a king whom they could see, and before whom they could prostrate and obtain summary justice.”

Even today our ‘socialistic’ politics has still not succeeded in changing such aspirations and this may be one reason why ‘devolution’ here has not been successful.

Man does not live by bread alone. But culture is everything including bread. Culture’s mould is difficult to break.

This seems to be the lesson we have to learn from our past. And this may be why a clamour has arisen in our time, after centuries, for our way of doing things or as some people may like to call it our culture or our urumaya.