COLOMBO
The oldest newspaper editor in the East—Turtles and tortoises—Ceylon
timber for cabinet-making—Bridge of boats—Kelani Temple—Buddhist
priests of two sects—Sacred fire—The Buddhist revival—Kotahena
Temple—Riot—Cremation of a priest.
Amongst the pleasant memories of many friends whose kindness helped to
brighten each day in the fair Isle, I cannot refrain from naming one
family, so numerous, and all so intimately associated with Ceylon, that,
under various names, they seemed to be ubiquitous. I allude to that of
Sir Charles Peter Layard, who (happily still surviving) was the eldest
of a family of twenty-three brothers and sisters, most of whom married
and settled in the Isle, as have also many of their children.
Another name closely associated with Ceylon for the last fifty years has
been that of Mr. A. M. Ferguson, who for forty-four years has ably
edited the leading newspaper of the colony, the ‘Ceylon Observer,’ and
whose knowledge on all subjects connected with the Isle causes him to be
regarded as a sort of Ceylonese Encyclopedia. Happily much of this
knowledge is imparted to the public in a copious Handbook and Directory,
and in other publications of special interest to the large planting
community.
His brother, Mr. William Ferguson, a distinguished botanist, and a keen
lover of natural history in all its branches, was one of my first
friends at Colombo, and vividly do I remember my first reception in his
pretty bungalow. He had sent messengers in every direction to search for
specimens of the most beautiful and interesting flowers, indigenous and
exotic, scarlet, white, gold, and purple, and with these his verandah
was adorned, that he might give me a delightfully illustrated botanical
lecture, made quite realistic by the presence of a great variety of live
turtles and tortoises, at least a score of these, some not much bigger
than a penny, creeping all over the place. I confess to some qualms at
the activity of a lively cobra with distended hood! Then Mr. Ferguson
showed us samples of all the reptiles of the Isle preserved in spirits,
so that I came away very much enlightened as to what I was to look out
for in my further travels.[16] He also gave me the following summary of
Ceylonese reptiles:—
-----
Footnote 16:
Ceylon is truly a happy hunting-ground for collectors. Thus in March
1889 a German naturalist, Herr Frühstorfer, landed here. He enlisted
fourteen collectors to work for him all over the Isle, and in July he
departed taking with him a collection of upwards of 25,000 beetles,
7,000 butterflies, 3,000 orthoptera (_i.e._ ‘straight-winged,’ which
includes mantis, leaf-insects, spectre-insects, walking-sticks,
grasshoppers, crickets, locusts, &c.), 3,000 dragon-flies, 1,000
spiders and centipedes, and all manner of land and sea snakes; also a
fine collection of shells.
-----
‘Thirty-eight frogs of all sorts, and one apicsiium.
‘Seventy-nine snakes of all sorts, including twenty-three sea-snakes,
supposed to be found on our coasts, all of which are said to be deadly.
Of the others only three are deadly, and four more are poisonous.
‘Forty-five of the family of crocodiles, including lizards, geckoes,
blood-suckers, and one chameleon.
‘Eight tortoises, and fresh and salt water turtles.’
Some of the land tortoises are tiny little brown things, but others are
very pretty, perhaps from four to eight inches in length, with convex
shell beautifully marked. I have one, of which the scales resemble
limpets, each striped with bright yellow rays on a rich brown or black
ground. Another has flat pentagonal scales like shields, each with
bright yellow centre set in brown and black. These retain all their
beautiful natural polish. They are generally found in or near ponds.
The Tamil fishers describe turtles as _kaddal amai_ or ‘sea-turtles,’
while tortoises are called ‘milk-turtles’ and ‘pariah-turtles.’ The
latter are found in marshes and ditches, and, though not edible, are
highly valued by the natives on account of certain medicinal properties
supposed to belong to them, their flesh and blood being deemed an
antidote for infantile sickness! The ‘milk-turtle’ (_pal amai_) or
terrapin, live in tanks and wells, and are said to be useful as
scavengers, devouring insects and their larvæ.
Of ‘sea-turtle’ there are several varieties, of which the principal are
the edible turtle and the hawk’s-bill. The former are found on all parts
of the coast, and are specially abundant in the north of the Isle. On
the small twin isles of Iranativu near Jaffna they are so numerous as to
form the chief food of the people, to say nothing of furniture, the
shells being used as seats. At certain seasons, however, they are so
unwholesome as to be accounted poisonous; in fact, in various instances
deaths have been attributed to feasting on turtle out of season. Large
quantities of their soft round white eggs are also eaten, the mother
turtle confidingly depositing from one to two hundred in the warm sun,
in the very presence of hungry men! These creatures are sometimes
captured of a very large size, four or five feet in length, and their
shells are utilised in various ways.
But the turtle which yields the beautiful tortoise-shell of commerce is
the hawk’s-bill, which is not considered wholesome, and a very barbarous
method used to be practised by the natives in order to secure several
sets of scales from the same creature. It was captured and suspended
over a wood fire till the heat made the scales drop off, after which it
was allowed to crawl away scorched and bereft of its coveted shell.
I speak of this in the past tense, because the police are now ever on
the alert to prevent all manner of cruelty to animals, so that such
barbarities as this, and also cutting up live turtles and selling them
bit by bit, are at least less common than of old. The reason assigned in
this case is that the shell loses its natural gloss and becomes opaque
if the poor turtle has been allowed to die. In some other isles,
however—_e.g._ the Celebes—the turtles are first knocked on the head,
and then dipped in boiling water, by which means the outer shell is
detached in better condition than by the barbarous smoking process.
The names turtle and tortoise are used so promiscuously that I was glad
to learn a simple distinction between them—namely, that turtles which
live chiefly in the sea are furnished with fin-like flappers, whereas
land tortoises have neat little feet with claws. The terrapin, or marsh
tortoises, have webbed feet and claws, so that they are provided for all
contingencies.
It has been said that a placid temperament tends to longevity, and
certainly these creatures happily illustrate the theory. We know that
even in so cold a climate as that of Britain tortoises have lived to a
very great age. There is preserved at Peterborough Cathedral the shell
of one which was known to have been upwards of one hundred and eighty
years old, when it was killed by an accident. And at Lambeth may still
be seen the shell of one which Archbishop Laud brought there from
Fulham, and which is known to have lived there for one hundred and
thirty years, during which time no less than eight archbishops ruled
over Canterbury. There is no saying how many more it might have survived
had it not been for the carelessness of a gardener who dug it out of its
hole one cold winter day and neglected to provide it with another, and
the poor thing being too drowsy to find one for itself, died of cold.
That, at least, is a danger from which no tortoise is likely to suffer
in Ceylon (unless he takes to mountain climbing); consequently I believe
they do not hibernate here, but live in consciousness all the year
round. One of the regular sights at Colombo is a noble old tortoise of
unknown age, but which is believed to have been a native of the
Galapagos Isles, and supposed to have been about fifty years of age when
it was sent from Singapore as an offering to one of the Dutch governors
of Colombo Fort, upwards of a hundred and fifty years ago.
From that time to the present it has been a pet of the foreign
residents, having been ‘taken over’ from the Dutch and left in
possession of the garden at Tangue Salgado (now known as Uplands). Here
early colonists used to amuse themselves by tortoise-riding, seven or
eight men standing at once on his strong back, while he slowly but
steadily walked off with his heavy burden. But now, alas! he is quite
blind, and moves very slowly, only seeming to find some pleasure while
grazing in the cool moist grass near the well.
The Japanese have adopted a mythological variety of this family as an
emblem of longevity, and not without good reason. Even as I write, the
daily papers report the capture on the St. John river, Florida, of a
tortoise bearing the arms of Spain, and the date 1700 plainly
discernible on its dorsal shell, as also the following inscription
(doubtless in Spanish): ‘Captured in the year 1700 by Fernando Gomez in
the St. Sebastian river: taken later on by the Indians to Montanzas, and
from there to the Great Wekima.’ The latter was the ancient name of the
river now known as the St. John. After showing this elderly tortoise to
several friends, the captor added the date 1890 and released it, perhaps
to enjoy another century of placid existence.
A specially interesting visit in Colombo was to Alfred House, the home
of Mr. Charles de Soysa, said to be the wealthiest native of Ceylon, and
certainly the most eminently philanthropic, his influence and his wealth
having always been at the service of every wise scheme for the help and
improvement of the people.
A maternity hospital, a model farm, and an admirably conducted college
at Moratuwa, are among the public benefactions by which he will be best
remembered, and widespread and real was the grief of many thousands who
attended his funeral, when in the autumn of 1890 this true friend of
rich and poor died of hydrophobia. Sad to say, he was bitten by a mad
terrier on August 2, and died on September 29, happily without great
pain. His European friends vainly pleaded that he should at once start
for Paris to place himself under the care of M. Pasteur, but he resolved
to retire to Moratuwa, and there abide by the treatment of the
Singhalese _wedaralas_, which unhappily proved ineffectual.
Specially interesting to a new-comer in the Isle were the beautiful
specimens of furniture at Alfred House, much of it richly carved, made
from all the choicest woods of the Ceylonese forests—forests which,
alas! have hitherto been so ruthlessly destroyed by natives and
foreigners that many of the most valuable trees, once so abundant, are
now exceedingly rare.
Doubtless many persons still remember the very valuable furniture which
was lent by M. de Soysa to the Indian and Colonial Exhibition in 1886.
That was a fair sample of the home treasures of which he was so justly
proud.
Of all the Ceylonese woods, I think the handsomest is the Calamander,
with its rich brown and yellow markings. Unfortunately its beauty has
almost resulted in its extermination, the forests where once it grew
having now been entirely cleared of every tree worth cutting.
The Pulu and the Kumbuk are both very pretty rich brown woods; the
Katu-puli has a mahogany-coloured centre, with a straw-coloured edge;
the Makulai has also a rich mahogany centre; the Maruta is amber-tinted
at the heart, with a pale outer circle; and the tamarind is of a rich
chocolate colour, with a yellow edge, its root being specially prized.
The tamarind is, however, so very hard as to be extremely difficult to
work.
These are but a few from among many of the choicest specimens, as you
can well understand, seeing that the Ceylonese forests yield about
ninety different useful timbers. One of the most beautiful is the
pale-yellow satin-wood, which fifty years ago was so abundant in the
north-eastern forests that it was commonly used for house-building, and
even for making bridges, notably that beautiful bridge which spans the
Maha-velli-ganga at Peradeniya, near Kandy. One rare and precious
variety is known as flowered satin-wood, and is very highly valued.
Perhaps the most singular of all ornamental woods is the ebony, of which
there are two kinds, distinguished by the natives as Kaluwara and
Karun-kali, both having the same peculiar characteristic of a jet-black
heart set in a pale outer edge: some one has aptly described it as a
white tree with black marrow. Akin to the true ebony is the Kadumberia,
with tiger-like markings of brown and yellow merging in the black
centre. Its roots yield most beautiful fantastic waving patterns of
black or fawn colour.
Several of the palm-trees—notably the palmyra and cocoa—are also of
exceedingly beautiful grain and colour, and when denuded of their bark
and polished, they form very handsome pillars.
A good deal of timber from the eastern forests is floated down the
rivers to the sea, and there formed into rafts, and so conveyed to its
destination. A very few days after I arrived at St. Thomas’s College a
large raft of ebony arrived from Trincomalee, and was landed on the
sands just below the College while I was sketching on the shore. One
tree at a time was detached; and ten or twelve brown coolies, whose
raiment consisted chiefly of a turban, waded or swam to the raft with a
bamboo and cords, by which they attached the tree, and so floated it
ashore and carried it up the bank.
One of our earliest expeditions was to visit an ancient Buddhist temple
on the farther bank of the Kelani river, which we crossed by a bridge of
boats. That in itself was interesting. It seemed so strange to see such
an array of boats anchored side by side right across the wide stream,
placed to act as piers in supporting the roadway, across which a
ceaseless traffic of heavily-laden creaking bullock-carts was passing to
and fro. It is a curious survival of what is now ancient history—namely,
Ceylon as it was in 1830, without roads or bridges, and when this
military bridge of boats, constructed by Sir Edward Barnes, was an
unspeakable boon to brown men and white.
Now, however, in these days of rapid progress, when, first-class iron
girders span the most distant and out-of-the-way rivers with the minimum
of traffic, this cumbersome old-fashioned approach to the capital is
felt to be out of keeping with the times. While the stoppage of all land
traffic for one hour daily, to allow boats to pass up and down the
river, is felt to be a grievous inconvenience to carts, carriages, and
pedestrians, the luckless boat-owners murmur, with graver cause, at a
detention of perhaps twenty-three hours ere they can be allowed to pass.
Moreover, in the summer floods, which almost annually cause serious
damage to the low lands near the mouth of the river, this bridge is
frequently not only closed to traffic, but its very existence is
endangered by the sweeping down of floating trees and timber-rafts, and
accidents are imminent. So this interesting relic is doomed, and is to
be replaced by a fine iron bridge of eight spans, four of 100 feet and
four of 30 feet.
The river derives its name from a very ancient city which once stood on
its banks, and of which this temple is a descendant, inasmuch as it was
built in the year A.D. 1240, and rebuilt about A.D. 1301, on the site of
one which dated from about 500 B.C.
Within the temple a great image of Buddha sits beneath the Naga canopy
(_i.e._ overshadowed by the great hooded cobra), and in most happy
companionship with images of Ganesha, Vishnu, and Siva, the latter
grasping his trident. Those who are interested in ritualistic
eccentricities will note that Siva’s hand is uplifted in the orthodox
attitude of blessing, with the first and second fingers raised, and the
third and fourth closed.
To the student of theoretic Buddhism, which inculcates no worship of any
sort (least of all the worship of Buddha himself), and which dispenses
with all supernatural aid, this amalgamation of creeds is startling, but
in Ceylon, as in Siam, it is quite a matter of course; indeed, even in
China and Japan, the Hindoo gods find room in many a Buddhist temple,
practical Buddhism being simply the addition of the founder’s own image,
and those of his many disciples and saints, to those of the
multitudinous idols whom he strove to extirpate.
That this very debased form of Buddhism is so prevalent in Ceylon is due
to the fact that the priesthood imported from Siam by the ancient kings
incorporated all manner of Hindoo superstitions and caste prejudices,
refusing to admit men of low caste to the higher orders of the
priesthood, while permitting all to combine with their priestly duties
such occupations as astrology, the practice of medicine, &c.
A very much purer form of Buddhism is, however, held by the priests of
the Amarapoora sect, now largely on the increase. These derive their
ecclesiastical orders from Burmah, and disclaim all connection with the
polytheism of India, rigidly excluding from their temples every image or
symbol of Hindoo worship. They are readily distinguished from the
Siamese priesthood by the fact of wearing their long yellow robe folded
round the body so as to cover both shoulders, whereas the Siamese always
have one end falling over the left shoulder, while the right arm and
neck are always bare. All agree in the necessity of shaving the head,
but the controversy as to whether shaving the eyebrows is incumbent has
been as hot as the tonsure question in the Christian Church.
Curiously enough, of all the multitudinous images of Buddha which I saw
in Ceylon, I cannot recall one which has not the right shoulder
uncovered, so the inference is that all must have been sculptured or
built under the influence of men of the Siamese sect.
These reserve certain portions of the sacred books for the exclusive use
of the priests of the highest grade. The Burmese priests, on the
contrary, expound the whole of the sacred books to all the people; they
totally ignore caste, but insist on the priests abstaining from all
secular work.
The origin of these sects forms a noteworthy feature in the history of
Ceylon. It seems that for several centuries Buddhism had been
degenerating, and departing farther and farther from its original
purity. At length, owing to the prolonged civil wars which desolated the
Isle towards the close of the seventeenth century, the _Upasampada_, or
highest order of priests, had almost ceased to exist; and as they alone
were competent to ordain the _Samanaros_, or priests of lower grade,
there seemed every probability that Buddhism would simply evaporate from
Ceylon.
At this juncture the Jesuit missionaries very naturally endeavoured to
secure a firmer footing, but the Dutch, therein scenting the political
influences of Portugal, determined to counteract their action. They
therefore gave every assistance to the Buddhists by lending them ships
to convey a special mission to Arracan, whence a number of fully
qualified priests were imported to reanimate their brethren, and
effectually oppose the efforts of the Roman Catholic missionaries.
About eighty years later, however, it again became necessary to import
priests of the highest order, and this time the King of Kandy sent an
embassy to Siam, there to claim this ecclesiastical aid. The Siamese
priests, however, so far from restoring Buddhism to its purity,
sanctioned all the corruptions which had crept in, and especially
refused to admit men of low birth to the higher offices of the
priesthood.
This exclusiveness induced the low-caste priests to organise an
expedition to Burmah, the very centre of orthodox Buddhism, there to
claim the ordination which was denied them in Ceylon. They were received
with open arms, not only by the Burmese high priest (who had been
greatly troubled on account of the degeneracy of the faith in Ceylon),
but also by the king himself, who caused their ordination to be
celebrated with regal honours. They were seated on golden howdahs, borne
by stately elephants; two golden umbrellas of state were held over each
of the candidates, who were escorted first to the royal palace, and
thence to the hall of ordination, by a procession of thousands of
officials of every grade, together with a vast crowd of people.
On their return to Ceylon in 1802 these priests became the founders of
the aforesaid Amarapoora sect, between which and their brethren in
Siamese orders there exists a great gulf, each assuming the other to be
swamped in fatal error.
Although the title of ‘priest’ is used for convenience, the position of
these men is curiously anomalous. Sir Monier Williams says they should
rightly all be called ‘monks.’ That this is so, is evident from the
‘Buddhist Catechism,’ by Colonel Olcott, President of the Theosophical
Society, in which it is stated, ‘Buddhist priests do not acknowledge or
expect anything from a Divine Power, but they _ought_ to govern their
lives according to the doctrine of Buddha. Buddhists regard a personal
God as only a gigantic shadow thrown upon the void of space by the
imagination of ignorant men.... We do not believe in miracle, hence we
deny creation, and cannot conceive of a Creator.’
Where, then, is the necessity for priestly ministers?
As regards the worshippers, the chief mode of accumulating merit in
every Buddhist country is the ceaseless reiteration of Buddha’s name. In
China, _O-mi-to-fu_ is the charm; in Thibet, _O-mani-padhi-hum_,—it is
all the same thing. The sovereign balm for every woe is to repeat the
name of Buddha, and when you have done this ten thousand times ten
thousand, begin again. Buddhism has nothing better for any wounded
spirit.
[Illustration: BLOSSOM OF THE COCOA PALM.]
The walls of the Kelani temple are covered with painting, representing
divers legends. Before all the altars are heaped offerings of fragrant,
but, alas! fading flowers and delicate ferns, jessamine, roses, lovely
lotus-blossoms, scarlet hibiscus, the large yellow bells of the
allamanda, sweet yellow champac, and, most delicious of all, the curly
cream-coloured blossoms of the temple flower[17] or awaria. The latter
is a curiously thick-set stumpy tree, bearing clusters of long narrow
leaves and blossoms on very stout branches, from which a milky-white
juice oozes when you gather a flower. It is really a South American
tree, and is supposed to have been brought thence to the Philippine
Isles in the beginning of the sixteenth century. (Magellan made the
first direct voyage in A.D. 1520, and many plants from the New World
were very soon brought thither, and thence made their way to farther
points.)
-----
Footnote 17:
_Plumeria acutifolia._
-----
These trees are almost invariably grown near the temples, for the sake
of the enchantingly fragrant perfume of the blossoms, each of which is
like a cluster of five pure creamy shells with yellow heart. Within the
temples the scent before evening becomes oppressive, especially as the
floral offerings include many marigolds, whose orthodox yellow colour
outweighs their unpleasant smell.
The most attractive offerings are the plume-like blossoms of the areca
and cocoa palms, both of which seem as though they were carved in purest
ivory. Many of these are offered for sale in shops[18] in the bazaar,
that worshippers who have not brought their gift with them may not enter
the temple empty-handed. In the outer court is a very sacred Bo-tree
(_Ficus religiosa_), an offshoot from that at Anaradhapura, as indeed
every Bo-tree in the Isle is supposed to be. This tree receives its full
share of floral offerings, as do also various hideous idols beneath its
shadow.
-----
Footnote 18:
One is loth to think of dishonesty and violence as possible in
connection with such offerings. But the following paragraph from the
‘Ceylon Observer,’ April 12, 1891, exemplifies a curious phase of
fraud:—
‘_Scene at a Buddhist Temple._—Last evening there was a gathering of
people at the Buddhist temple at Kotahena; and the proceedings of the
evening terminated by one of the Buddhist priests being assaulted and
robbed. As is the custom on such occasions, a number of flower sellers
assembled outside the temple premises and put up stalls on the
roadside for the sale of flowers, water-lilies included. These are
purchased by the motley crowd who assemble at the temple, and offered
at the shrine of their god.
‘_It appears that some persons, after presenting their offerings, took
the flowers back to the stalls and resold them._ The Buddhist priests,
incensed at the deceit practised, and the indignity offered to their
leader, took immediate steps to denounce the practice by beat of
tomtom, and to warn the assembled multitude that a repetition of such
conduct would not be tolerated.
‘Shortly afterwards a bully of the Kotahena district, Swaris by name,
who is also one of those “ill-omened birds of prey” who infest the
courts, with five others of his kin, rushed into the temple premises
and gave Janananda Unnanse a good beating, finally stabbing the
yellow-robed gentleman with a knife in his right arm. The culprits
walked away, but before doing so helped themselves to the poor
priest’s yellow robes, two in number, some other clothing, and a large
sum of money.
‘The Unnanse charged the offenders this morning before the police
court.’
A curious illustration of the spirit of meanness in regard to
offerings is the common saying with regard to any beautiful flowers
growing hopelessly out of reach, ‘I offer it to Buddha!’
-----
Outside the temple there are great lamps wherein sacred fire burns all
the year round. This is extinguished on April 13, and is renewed by
striking fire from stones. The sacred fire thus obtained is locked up in
a great cage-like lamp, supported by a brass peacock, and is fed by the
drip of cocoa-nut oil led in from an external reservoir.
I also noted with interest a lamp-stand or chandelier, like a tree, with
lotus-blossoms to act as lamps. This is rotatory, and very like one in
the Court of the ‘Beautiful Temple’ at Nikko in Japan. One of the kindly
yellow-robed priests could talk English, and as I had so recently seen
the rotatory prayer-wheels on the borders of Thibet, I asked him whether
any such existed in Ceylon. He informed me that there either is or was
one, in a temple in that neighbourhood. I never, however, saw a trace of
anything of the sort in Ceylon.[19]
-----
Footnote 19:
I have described all the varieties of Buddhist so-called wheels, or
rather revolving cylinders, containing prayers, images, or books, in
‘In the Himalayas,’ pp. 424 to 441—published by Chatto & Windus; also
in ‘Wanderings in China,’ vol. ii, pp. 195 and 331—published by W.
Blackwood & Sons.
-----
Near the temple is the preaching-house, where the faithful assemble to
hear sermons. As we wandered about we were escorted by a number of
gentle Singhalese; pretty small children offered us flowers, and some of
the smallest toddled beside us, grasping our dresses in the most
confiding manner.
Till quite recently this was the only Buddhist temple of any importance
near Colombo, the Dutch having brought the ‘persuasive eloquence of the
cannon’ to bear on all heathen temples within range of their forts.
During their reign, worship was prohibited here also, and the priests
were banished from the temple. Of course, from the moment the Union-jack
was hoisted, perfect liberty of conscience was secured to all creeds.
Within the last fifteen years, however, under the fostering care of the
British Government, the Buddhist priests have been reinstated in greater
power and honour than for many past centuries, insomuch that many of the
Singhalese believe, with some apparent reason, that England’s Queen must
be at heart a Buddhist.
To average Christians who believe it to be a matter earnestly to be
desired, that all false faiths should fade away before the One True
Light of the world, it is a cause of very deep regret that (whereas,
till quite recently, the condition of Buddhism in Ceylon was such, and
the contempt of the people for the majority of its priests was so
strong, that there seemed every probability of its soon becoming a dead
letter) it has within the last few years received so large a measure of
State patronage—unprecedented since the days of the Buddhist kings—as
has electrified it into a state of renewed and aggressive vigour.
One very difficult question concerns the part to be taken by the State
in regard to what are described as Buddhist temporalities. Whereas in
1881 the British Government marked its perfect neutrality in matters of
creed by disestablishing the Episcopal (previously the State) Church of
Ceylon, in 1889 it ordered the election of committees of Buddhist laymen
to take strict supervision of the enormous revenues of the Buddhist
temples, not in order to secure their expenditure on philanthropic work
and on Government schools, but solely to check their appropriation by
priests for their personal use, and to ensure their application to the
definitely religious service of these temples, and to pansala schools
directly in connection therewith. It had been proved that in the
well-endowed districts, especially those around Kandy, where Buddhism is
wealthiest, the priests scarcely kept up any pretence of teaching the
people, even by the wretched education in pansala schools; and that the
temple revenues were in many cases appropriated for the vilest purposes.
(In the Fijian Isles, where it is little more than fifty years since the
first Christian missionary landed in a group peopled with ferocious
cannibals, it would now be hard to find one man, woman, or child who
cannot read and write. In Ceylon in 1890 it was found that 23 per cent.
of the men and 79 per cent. of the women throughout the Isle could not
write their own name, and in Kandy only 4 per cent. of the women can
sign their own name in their marriage register. So much for the pansala
schools!)
When the passing of this Buddhist Temporalities Bill was under
discussion, the Buddhist priests sent a strong protest to show the
impossibility of their submitting the management of their temple funds
to laymen, ‘_who by the laws of Buddhism were bound to worship the
priests_.’ Nevertheless, the ordinance was passed, and lay trustees
appointed, whereupon many of the priests hastened to ‘realise’ as much
temple property as possible for their own behoof. Amongst other things,
the police captured a man laden with a sackful of gold and silver images
of Buddha, and other temple treasures. The case was tried, and the
priest, who had sent these goods to be sold for his private benefit,
maintained that he was fully entitled to do so! Such being the priests’
views of the temple property committed to their trust, it follows that
all efforts of the lay authorities to carry out their instructions have
been vigorously opposed by the priests, resulting in a general chaos,
from which, it is urged, nothing can rescue them save the actual
management by Government of temple funds; in other words, the
re-establishing of a distinctly official relation with Buddhism. This is
exactly what the Buddhists want, and it would be recognition on no small
scale; for although Ceylon no longer boasts, as in days of old, of
supporting 60,000 Buddhist priests, it is a notable fact that between
one-third and one-fourth of the cultivated land of the island is the
property of the Buddhist monasteries, and as such is exempt from the
taxation which applies to all rice-growing lands.
The whole history of Buddhism in Ceylon is that of a system upheld by
the strong will of the rulers by whom in various ages these enormous
gifts of land were made (subject to certain conditions regarding their
occupation) to the Buddhist Vihares and Hindoo Dewales, which, while
theoretically antagonistic, are in fact inextricably blended. These
gifts included the serfdom in perpetuity of all the many thousands of
inhabitants, who in each succeeding age were born to the most absolute
slavery of compulsory work for the service of the temples, and who were
bought and sold with the land, should the temple authorities see fit to
sell portions of their estates.
Against this yoke of bondage the serfs have vainly striven, and but for
the continued support of the rulers, the priests would all along have
been totally unable to exact the oppressive and often detested service.
Unfortunately, under an entire misapprehension of the true relation of
priests and people, the earlier British governors deemed it politic (as
a supposed means of securing a strong influence with the people) to
extend official support to Buddhism as ‘the national creed.’
This mistaken policy was sealed when, after the capture of the last king
of Kandy in 1815, a Convention was signed with the Kandyan chiefs,
whereby Sir Robert Brownrigg, as Britain’s representative, undertook
that she should maintain and protect the rites and places of worship of
the Buddhist religion—an iniquitous compact with idolatry, which surely
ought to have been at once repudiated by a Christian nation.
Sir Robert himself interpreted this clause as merely promising the
Buddhists security from molestation in the exercise of their religion;
but the terms of this treaty have proved a source of grave perplexity to
successive governors, who have found themselves politically bound to do
honour to a creed dishonouring to that which they themselves hold to be
the only truth.
Moreover, though it had been abundantly proved how small the influence
of the priests really was, apart from Government support, nevertheless,
by the action of the British Government in recognising these temple
rights, an immense multitude of British subjects continued to be held in
fetters which bound them body and soul alike, liberty of conscience
being for them a mere fiction.
This state of virtual slavery continued in full force, till, on its
iniquity being fully recognised by Sir Hercules Robinson, a Service
Tenures Ordinance was passed in 1870, by which serfs were empowered to
free themselves from compulsory labour by commutation—_i.e._ by paying
an equivalent in coin, so that their position might become that of
voluntary tenants, paying rent in service or in money.
This decision, theoretically so satisfactory, does not seem to have
remedied the evil, for in the Administration Report for the province of
Sabaragamuwa in 1885, the service tenures were referred to as ‘a system
which virtually keeps a large class in bondage;’ and in the Report for
1887 it was stated that ‘existing services and rates are outrageously
high, and calculated on obsolete services’—that is to say, that when
temple serfs desire to pay in money, instead of rendering service to
their feudal lords, an equivalent was claimed far beyond the actual
value of their services, and if they declined to pay at this rate, or
were unable to do so, they found themselves involved in ruinous expenses
of litigation.
It is said that the latest legislation on the subject, the Buddhist
Temporalities Ordinance of 1889, has failed to afford them relief, and
that the only possible solution of such grave difficulties will be for
the British Government to resume possession of the lands, and make over
to the temples such a portion of the legitimate taxes as her Majesty’s
Government shall deem proper.
Certainly that carelessly worded Convention of 1815 has led to strange
incongruities.
Imagine that so late as 1846, bills were rendered to, and discharged by
Government, for hire of devil-dancers, decorating temples, and all other
expenses of heathen worship, as ‘for Her Majesty’s Service’!
Till 1852 Buddhist high priests and _Basnaike Nillemés_ (_i.e._ lay
chiefs of _Dewales_—_i.e._ Hindoo temples) were appointed by a written
instrument, signed and sealed by the Governor or Government agent. I
believe the last appointments are still retained in the gift of
Government, as being lucrative posts, wherewith to reward meritorious
public servants; and so great is the temptation of such appointments,
that even nominal Christians have abjured their faith and embraced
Hindooism in order to qualify themselves for such patronage from their
Christian rulers. A case in point occurred so lately as 1889.
About twenty years ago, when attention was first called to the
scandalous misappropriation by the priests of the great temple revenues,
an ecclesiastical reformation was inaugurated by Sumanagala, the High
Priest of Galle and of the Shrine of the Holy Footprint, on the summit
of Adam’s Peak. In 1873, under the direct patronage and with the aid of
the British Government, he founded the Vidyodaya College in Colombo, for
the purpose of supplying the whole island with a priesthood thoroughly
imbued with all Buddhistic philosophy, discipline, and metaphysics; and
who would deem it their special duty to establish such schools in
connection with every temple, that Buddhist parents may no longer seek
education for their children at Christian schools.
This college is also designed to encourage in the laity a love for the
oriental literature which has been, as it were, excavated from beneath
accumulated mountains of rubbish by the European students who revived
the study of the ancient sacred books. Consequently a very valuable and
rapidly increasing oriental library has been here collected, and an
enthusiasm has been stirred up, which has drawn student priests from
Siam, Cambodia, China, and Japan, to study the sacred Pali and Sanskrit
books at this college, which thus gives promise of becoming the centre
of a great revival of Buddhism.
It has already established four branch institutions in other parts of
Ceylon for the spread of Sanskrit literature, as also a preparatory
school in connection with the college itself. The King of Siam has
endowed a scholarship for ‘proficiency in the Buddhist scriptures,’ the
Government of Ceylon aids the upkeep of the college, and the prizes have
been annually distributed to the students by the British Governor
himself, on the principle of showing absolute impartiality to all faiths
professed by the Queen’s subjects.
And yet it has this year been asserted by the editor of the
‘Lakminipahana,’ that although Government has appointed the teaching of
modern cosmology, the teachers in the Vidyodaya and other Buddhist
colleges, in common with the priests of Burmah, refuse to teach it, as
being positively opposed to the teaching of Buddha, who, claiming
perfect knowledge on all subjects, declared that this world is flat, day
and night being caused by the sun wandering round Mount Meru, which
stands in the centre of the great plain. He says that if modern science
is true, then a great part of Buddhism is false, therefore the priests
in the Buddhist college at Galle are blamed for wishing to get a pundit
to teach them this heretical system.
Seeing the importance which from the earliest days has attached to the
possession of anything that could be reverenced as a Buddhistic relic,
there was unbounded joy in this college when, at the earnest request of
Sumanagala, the Government of Bombay made over to his care certain
relics recently excavated from some ancient Indian shrines. These had
been placed in the Bombay Museum, and unfortunately, instead of being
transmitted from the Museum to the college, they were sent by the Bombay
Government to the care of the Ceylon Government, and their despatch and
receipt intimated in official documents—an apparently simple
transaction, the importance of which, however, was enormously
exaggerated by the recipients, being represented to the Buddhist
population as an act of official homage to Gautama, and we all know the
oriental tendency to revere whomsoever the king delighteth to honour. Of
course the utmost capital is made of every act of simple courtesy on the
part of the various distinguished foreigners who show interest in
Buddhism or the ancient literature of the East.
As regards the aforesaid relics, trifling as they are in themselves, the
news of their discovery created quite a stir in the Buddhist world, and
they are undoubtedly interesting to antiquaries and students of strange
objects of veneration, being apparently fragments of the identical
begging-bowl or gourd in which Gautama Buddha, clad in the yellow robe
of a mendicant, collected his daily dole of rice. After his death the
bowl was broken, and the fragments were enshrined in various parts of
India.
The British mendicant, who chooses to depend on the gifts of his more
industrious neighbours for his daily bread, is liable to have work
provided for him by an unsympathetic police, but our fellow-subjects in
the East continue to find religious mendicancy a recognised and honoured
profession. As regards the Buddhist priests, however, their vow of
poverty is as much a dead letter as are some other vows. Few indeed
trouble themselves to collect their daily bread as alms, while many are
private land-owners having property quite distinct from that of the
temples, and they sue or are sued in British courts of law, like
ordinary citizens.
Mr. J. M. Campbell, of the Bombay Civil Service, in reading an old
manuscript on this subject, found so minute a description of the sites
of these relic-shrines that he resolved to identify them. First he
opened a mound near the village of Sopara on the island of Salsette,
twenty miles from Bombay, and therein found an earthenware case
containing a copper relic-shrine; within this lay one of silver
containing one of gold, and within that, enshrined in a crystal casket,
lay some broken fragments of a gourd. There were also some little images
of Buddha.[20]
-----
Footnote 20:
To a naturalist the most interesting of all these antiquities was a
live frog which was found comfortably enclosed in the outer shrine,
where it must have lain embedded for about 2,000 years. It was
carefully removed with the other treasures, but sad to say, after only
two days’ enjoyment of its release, it fell a victim to scientific
thirst for experiment, a doctor having, for reasons best known to
himself, administered a drop of chloroform, whereof it straightway
died. Some years ago, when Sir Alexander Gordon Cumming wrote a
statement respecting several frogs which were found on his estate
deeply embedded in a rocky bank, this letter gave rise to a
tempestuous correspondence, in the course of which many very
extraordinary but perfectly proven instances were brought forward of
similar cases of frog-longevity. One standing proof is the mantelpiece
at Chillingham Castle, in which is shown the hollow wherein a live
frog was found when the marble was hewn from its quarry.
-----
Three years later, in the ruins of Bassein, he renewed the quest, and
found a stone coffer, within which lay a nest of caskets, one inside the
other—the innermost one of pure gold, containing several fragments of
the bowl, and flowers of gold-leaf. Again Mr. Campbell proceeded to
excavate a huge mound near Janagadh in Kattywar, supposed to have been
constructed about 150 B.C., and therein discovered another stone coffer
containing a series of precious caskets, the innermost one of gold,
containing a fragment of bone the size of a little finger-nail, supposed
to have been saved from the funeral pyre of Gautama Buddha. Beside this
relic lay four precious stones and two little bits of wood which are
assumed to have been amulets.
Naturally the new and highly educated priesthood who are now being
trained at the Vidyodaya College to replace their utterly illiterate and
degraded brethren, bless those to whose direct influence and aid they
justly ascribe the rekindling of so vigorous a fire from such
smouldering embers, and take good care to impress on the minds of the
people that the marked honours bestowed on Buddhism are a clear
indication of the religious tendencies of their rulers.
And well may the Singhalese be perplexed when they note the very
prominent position assigned at many Government ceremonials to a group of
proud, unbending, yellow-robed priests, the Christian clergy having no
such definite place. Of these only the Anglican bishop and the three
Roman Catholic bishops have the privilege of the private _entrée_ to the
levee at Government House on the Queen’s birthday. That honour is,
however, bestowed on a large number of Buddhist priests, the reason of
this being, that as these own no superior (not even Buddha himself,
since, having attained Nirvana, he is practically non-existent), they
refuse any external indication of reverence to the Queen’s
representative; therefore they are exempted from mingling in the
procession of ordinary mortals, where this peculiarity would be too
conspicuous. Strange to say, they have also frequently been privileged
on State occasions to chant a solemn benediction in Pali, invoking the
blessing of Buddha on their friendly rulers, who remained standing
during a ceremony which most felt to be singularly out of place.
Still more incomprehensible to the Singhalese, as a mere act of
impartiality, has been the recent official recognition (an innovation
assuredly uncalled for) of Buddha’s birthday as a general holiday, on
the same footing as Christmas Day! a measure which has done more than
anything else to revive popular interest in Buddhism.[21] Old
inhabitants tell us that _they have never known this day to be observed
till, at the instance of certain Englishmen_ who have formed themselves
into a ‘Buddhist Defence Committee,’ _the British Government chose to
make it a public holiday_.
-----
Footnote 21:
The Tamil’s great holiday is the feast of the New Year, according to
Hindoo and Singhalese reckoning. This year it fell on April 12.
The Mohammedan festival of the Hegira fell on July 17.
All these are now officially recognised as general holidays.
-----
To the disgust of the inhabitants of the Fort at Galle, which has been
exclusively Christian for the last three hundred years, a house within
the Fort was three years ago transformed into a noisy temple, and at the
instigation of an English apostate from the Christian priesthood,
discordant midnight carols were (for the first time) shrieked in honour
of ‘our Lord Buddha’! The date of this festival is determined by that of
the first full moon in Wesak—_i.e._ April-May—and I observe that this
ranges from May 3 in one year to May 25 in another. The festival is
observed with an annually increasing show of street decorations (the
so-called Buddhist flag, invented by Colonel Olcott, predominating), and
processions with banners, images, devil-dancers, beating of drums,
tomtoms, and other deafening ecclesiastical music, continuing without
intermission from dawn till sunset, and the police have their hands
fully occupied in preserving the peace between these now somewhat
aggressive processionists and the native Roman Catholics.
In fact, in 1883 a very serious riot occurred in Colombo, not in
connection with the ‘Wesak’—_i.e._ Buddha’s birthday—but (which may
edify theoretic Buddhists!) on the occasion of a seven weeks’ festival
in honour of _setting the eyes in a large new image of Buddha
reclining_, in the Vihara or temple at Kotahena (in Colombo).[22]
-----
Footnote 22:
In Robert Knox’s fascinating account of his twenty years of honourable
captivity in the heart of Ceylon, from A.D. 1659 to 1680, he describes
how religious mendicants carry about a small image of the Buddou,
covered with a piece of white cloth. ‘For this god, above all others,
they seem to have a high respect; ... ladies and gentlemen of good
quality will sometimes, in a fit of devotion to the Buddou, go
a-begging for him. Some will make the image of this god at their own
charge. _Before the eyes are made, it is not accounted a god, but a
lump of ordinary metal, and thrown about the shop with no more regard
than anything else_; but when the eyes are to be made, the artificer
is to have a good gratification, besides the first agreed-upon
reward.’
‘THE EYES BEING FORMED, IT IS THENCEFORWARD A GOD, and then, being
brought with honour from the workman’s shop, it is dedicated by
solemnities and sacrifices, and carried with great state into its
shrine or little house, which is before built and prepared for it.’
-----
During all this period a succession of priests were engaged in
ceaselessly preaching _bana_ (the discourses of Buddha) and reciting
_pirit_ (a formula supposed to avert evil), and on the last day of the
festival five hundred priests were to be present in order that the five
hundred sections of the ‘Tripitaka’ scriptures might be repeated by them
in one day, in return for which, each was to be presented with a set of
the ‘Atapirikara’—_i.e._ the eight articles which constitute the
personal property of a Buddhist priest. These articles, together with
food for the assembled priests, were to be offered by the inhabitants of
many neighbouring villages, each of which was to bring its gift on a
special day, escorted by a noisy religious procession. A bestowal of
merit was promised to all who thus adorned themselves with the ornaments
of faith.
Unfortunately this temple (which, though modern, small, and externally
insignificant, has recently been highly decorated internally, and has
risen to a position of importance in the Buddhist revival) stands within
a few hundred yards of the Roman Catholic cathedral,[23] so that the
worshippers therein had full benefit of this prolonged parade of noisy
rejoicings, continuing all through Lent. They endured it all peaceably
till they realised that these processions were to be continued through
Holy Week, when they would inevitably clash with the customary Roman
Catholic processions. Moreover, very offensive messages were sent to the
Roman Catholics expressing a determination to hold festivals of
rejoicing on Good Friday.
-----
Footnote 23:
The cathedral premises, about ten acres in extent, were granted to the
Church by the Dutch in 1779, but had been occupied by the Roman
Catholics long before that date. They comprise the residence of the
bishop and priests, the schoolhouse, and convent.
-----
Application was accordingly made to the authorities to prohibit Buddhist
demonstrations during certain hours on Good Friday and Easter Day; but
unfortunately, in the anxiety to please all parties, some confusion
arose between the licences already granted and afterwards cancelled, and
though no collision occurred, the peace of Good Friday was disturbed by
very bitter feeling. On Easter Day, however, the Buddhists were resolved
not to forego their procession in honour of some particular phase of the
moon. The Roman Catholic congregations had dispersed after morning
service, when suddenly the bells of the cathedral and of all the
neighbouring Roman Catholic churches were simultaneously set ringing
violently. This seems to be a recognised call to assemble for some
urgent purpose, and yet, strange to say, all the bells were left
unguarded. In a very few minutes an excited mob of the lowest of the
Roman Catholics, armed with clubs and marked on the forehead and back
with white crosses, quite _à la_ St. Bartholomew, assembled, determined
to prevent the procession from passing their cathedral. A very serious
riot ensued, which resulted in one person being killed; and thirty,
including twelve poor police constables, were so seriously injured as to
necessitate their being taken to the hospital.
Most of the ill feeling aroused on this occasion seems to have been due
to the irritating and violent language of a notable priest of the
Amarapoora sect, Migettuwatte Unnanse, a leading member of Colonel
Olcott’s Theosophical Society, and a man thoroughly versed in all the
anti-Christian literature of England, America, and India—an eloquent
man, and a most bitter opponent of the Christian religion, which he
strove by every means to bring into contempt and ridicule. He denounced
Christianity with such energy, while working with all his might for the
extension of Buddhism, that he came to be distinguished as the fighting
champion of the Buddhist faith.
So when he died, in the autumn of 1890, it was deemed fitting to make
his funeral the occasion of a great demonstration. His body was embalmed
and placed in a coffin with glass sides and lid, in order that crowds
might see his face once more, and also to give time for organising a
great ceremonial a week later, by which time fully fifteen thousand
people from various parts of the Isle had assembled at Colombo to attend
the funeral, and all united their processions to form one enormous
_perehera_ round the city.
On Sunday, the 28th, this multitude formed a funeral procession more
than a mile in length. First came ‘the company of the preachers’; then a
strong body of tomtom-beaters, followed by a multitude of Singhalese
women; after them twelve of the chief Buddhist priests in very modern
jinrikishas, followed by a hundred and thirty minor priests in their
yellow robes, all walking beneath a long canopy of white cloth, denoting
the honour due to them. Then (more modern innovations) came the
Volunteer band playing the Dead March in ‘Saul’; and after this a gaudy
hearse, containing the coffin and loads of white flowers, was carried on
the shoulders of fifty men.
In these days when the respective advantages of cremation _versus_
interment are so largely discussed, it is interesting to learn that in
Ceylon the cleanly aid of fire is, by the Buddhists, reserved as a
special honour for a few of the most eminent priests. On the present
occasion the funeral pyre had been erected on a rising ground just
beyond the General Cemetery—a high erection of palm-trunks, with tall
palms at the four corners, supporting a canopy of white cloth. The
coffin was deposited in an opening in the centre of the pyre, which was
then mounted by a succession of priests and laymen, who addressed the
kneeling crowds around. These at each telling sentence raised their
clasped hands heavenward, exclaiming ‘Saadu, Saadu!’ the united voices
of this great multitude producing a deep-toned roar which died away in
the distance like the booming of the waves, or the murmur of distant
thunder.
Then, after a solemn chanting and prayer, the pyre was ignited to a loud
accompaniment of tomtom-beating, and the crowds reverently watched the
work of the flames till at last they reached the white canopy, when all
burst into one shout of triumph, this being the symbol of the spirit’s
full emancipation—_i.e._ till its next birth in some new state of being.
Of course a scene so solemn could not but have an incongruous element,
which was furnished by an English Buddhist, who could not resist such an
opportunity for attracting attention, and so took his place on the pyre
‘as the representative of America, Europe, and England,’ to deliver a
funeral oration (through an interpreter), assuring all present that very
soon all America and Europe would receive the faith of Buddha—after
which he proved his self-sacrificing devotion to his newly-found faith
by tossing his sun-hat on to the blazing pyre, an example which led to
the cremation of many good tortoise-shell combs and handkerchiefs!