EVENTS LEADING UP TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1760.
At the end of the last century, the Kingdom of Siam was in a
flourishing condition as far as internal affairs were concerned, and
was respected by outside nations.
The help that Louis XIV had condescended to render, had assured its
prosperity, and might have sufficed to correct its constitutional
vices; but what ought to have given it a new brilliancy was the cause
of its misfortune and its overthrow. The Siamese were ignorant of the
value of a benefit which would have ensured their safety.
The pusillanimous prince feared to accept the services of 500 men who
had been sent to defend him. They were regarded as ambitious persons
who although under the title of friends had only come to be their
tyrants. The Buddhist priests stirred up sedition against their noble
defenders, and placed an ambitious man on the throne who had dazzled
them by an affectation of zeal for their rites.
Pitracha, seated on a throne defiled with the blood of the royal
family combined in himself all the talents of great men with all the
vices of the vilest scoundrels. As soon as he had compelled the French
to leave the Kingdom, he found nothing else at which to take offence.
Whilst surrounded by his satellites, and enjoying the fruit of his
crimes, a Peguan priest, who gave himself out to be the elder of the
two brothers of the late King fomented a new rebellion. He had been a
prisoner in Ayuthia for a long time, and during his incarceration had
been informed of the state of the court. This imposter painted his
story in glowing colours and ten thousand Siamese rallied to his
standard.
It was easier for him to delude individuals than to cater for an army,
but the fanaticism he inspired caused his followers to close their
eyes to the magnitude of the peril and all appeared ready to fight or
to die for their leader.
The son of the King having determined to take a pleasure trip to a
spot at some distance from the capital, proceeded thither with a
magnificent retinue. The Peguan priest determined to lay an ambuscade
in a forest through which the royal party would be obliged to pass.
His plan was to massacre him and all his suite, to march on the
unsuspecting city, and to make away with the King and all the Royal
family.
The plot which had been kept a profound secret would have been quite
successful had not the innate suspicions of the children of the tyrant
enlightened the prince as to the danger which threatened him.
He saw the armed mob and at once perceived that he was about to be
attacked and so instead of defending himself, he fled promptly,
leaving a rich booty, the collection of which prevented pursuit by the
conspirators. When they had satisfied their cupidity they marched on
the capital which they had hoped to find defenceless. Pitracha however
having heard of the danger into which his son had nearly fallen, at
once sent out a force of 12,000 men to disperse the rabble.
The rebel priest at first was of good cheer but he led forces without
courage or discipline as everything was to be feared and nothing could
be hoped for. His little army panic-stricken melted away without
striking a blow. Only 300 prisoners were taken and not more than 300
perished by the sword.
The Priest pretender wandered in the woods for several days with a
young man who had remained faithful. He was found sleeping under a
tree and was taken to Ayuthia where, chained to a post, he was exposed
for several days to the contumely of the mob, and afterwards he was
disembowelled and while still breathing saw his own entrails being
devoured by dogs.
It seems that Pitracha did not enjoy the the throne for long, as his
son succeeded in 1700. The first year of his reign was marked by a
scandalous marriage with his father's widow who gave her hand but not
her heart.
This Princess had an extraordinary career she was successively the
wife of the father, the son and the grandson.
This victim of passion never reciprocated the love which she inspired
in others and to separate herself from a husband whom she detested,
retired to a convent where she died in 1715.
The new King, a prey to superstition and debauchery, surrendered
himself entirely to the idolatrous priests, who, by their austerities,
engaged to expiate his faults. Following his example, everyone built
temples. Trade and manufactures languished and the populace given up
to fantastic ceremonies no longer gave thought to the question of the
defences of the State. The false gods had many worshippers and the
State had no soldiers available for defence. Fortune favoured the
kingdom as the neighbouring Kings were all engaged in war against each
other and having too much on their hands at home, had no time to think
of foreign aggression.
It was in this reign that the kingdom was visited by the scourge of
famine. A long period of drought had converted the fertile soil into a
barren dust. The rice, which is the staple food stuff, was soon
exhausted; fish became scarce and poisonous. The water of the River
naturally clear and limpid, suddenly became green and turbid.
A sort of green scum covered the surface of the great river and the
fish were either dead or dying. The King feared that the polluted
water would only increase the sickness in the land and forbade its use
for drinking or washing purposes.
This prohibition caused discontent among the populace, for whom water
is a most necessary article.
The revolt was ready to break out, when the court appealed to popular
superstitions to avert the calamity. The priests said that a god known
as Pra In had appeared near one of the city gates and had declared
that the change of the water was one of his blessings and had become a
panacea for the ills they suffered. At this news, the whole populace,
passed from despair to hope, every one ran to the river to wash and to
anoint themselves with scum that had appeared so deadly a moment
before. At last after 15 days the phenomenon passed away. Abundant
rains caused the water to overflow the country and to fertilise the
ground.
The reign of this Prince, like that of his successors, offers nothing
worthy of record.
His son, who succeeded him, is only known by the defeats he sustained.
His army 50,000 strong and his fleet carrying 20,000 fighting men,
invaded Cambodia, at that time torn with internal dissensions.
This army would have been victorious if its leader had been more
skilful. But the King of Siam, enervated by harem life, had entrusted
the command to his first minister, a man of peace, and without skill
in warfare.
The Minister who well knew the direction in which his talents lay, had
no wish to take the command, but the King who thought he could make no
mistake in the choice of his agents, was certain that one who knew how
to govern an Empire would also know how to conquer.
The King of Cambodia, too weak to offer resistance to the invading
hosts, ordered all his subjects who lived on the frontiers to retire
with their belongings to the capital and to burn everything that they
could not carry away. The fields were laid waste, fifty leagues of
territory were changed into sterile deserts that could hardly sustain
animal life.
The King declared himself a vassal of the King of Cochin China in
order to obtain a force of 15,000 men for land defence and 3000 for
service on the galleys for the defence of the coast. The Siamese army,
full of confidence in the superiority of numbers, and still more proud
to find that no foe dare dispute their passage, rashly penetrated into
the country but the further they advanced, the nearer they approached
to their fate. Famine, more cruel than the sword ravaged their camp.
The devastated fields, gave neither fruits for man nor forage for
beast.
They were obliged to slaughter their baggage animals in order to
provide themselves with meat.
The soldiers, unaccustomed to a flesh diet, were attacked by fever and
dysentery and more than half of their number died.
The leader who had forseen the catastrophe, but had been unable to
prevent it, retired with the remainder of his army and was harassed in
the rear by his enemies without respite.
The Siamese fleet four times larger than that of the enemies met with
no better fate. Their small vessels fired the town of Pontemas 200
tons of ivory were destroyed by the flames. The Cochin Chinese
profited by the absence of these vessels to attack the transports
anchored four miles from the town. The Siamese vessels aground in the
river, which was extremely low could render no assistance, and fearing
that famine would be as detrimental to the fleet as it had been to the
army, set sail for their own country.