CEYLON
“_12th Sept., 1883._
“Left home by the 10 o’clock train, and spent the day in London. A
letter had come from Eddy Hamilton by the morning’s post asking
to see me before I went abroad, and I went to Downing Street at
one o’clock. Mr. Gladstone is away yachting, and Eddy is acting
Prime Minister, and a very great man. I had not been to Downing
Street since last year--just upon a year ago--when I went to
ask for Arabi’s life. Eddy was extremely amiable this time, and
asked me what I was going to do in the East. I told him my plans
exactly--that I was going first to Egypt, and should call on Baring
and, if I found him favourably disposed, should propose to him a
restoration of the National Party, but if he would not listen I
should go on to Ceylon and India; that I could not do anything in
Egypt without Baring’s countenance, for the people would not dare
to come to speak to me; but, if Baring would help, I thought I
could get the Nationalist leaders elected at the elections--all
depended on the action of our officials. Also as to India--that I
had no intention of exciting to rebellion; that I should go first
to Lord Ripon, then to Lyall, and afterwards to the provinces;
that the subjects I wished principally to study were the financial
condition of the country, that is to say, to find out whether
our administration was really ruining India, and to ascertain
the views of the natives with regard to Home Rule. Of both these
plans Eddy seemed to approve, said that Baring would be sure to
wish to see me, and listen to all I had to say, and, though he did
not commit himself to anything very definite about the rest, did
not disapprove. With regard to India, he said he would write to
Primrose, Lord Ripon’s private secretary, to show me all attention;
so on the whole I am highly satisfied with my visit. I had some
talk with Eddy about Randolph Churchill. He said that my connection
with him in Egyptian affairs did me harm, but I don’t believe that,
and I look upon Churchill as quite as serious a politician as the
rest with whom I have had to deal. On Egypt I think he is sincere,
because he has an American wife, and the Americans have always
sympathized with freedom there. I believe, too, that he is at a
turning point in his character, and means to have done with mere
random fighting, and we both agreed that he has a career before
him. For my own part I like Churchill. He does not affect any high
principles, but he acts squarely.”
The next day I left with my wife for Paris, where our principal
interest was to see the small group of Egyptian exiles congregated
there.
“_13th Sept._--We arrived by the night train at Paris, and alighted
at the Hôtel S. Romain, a quiet place where we can see our friends.
Presently Sabunji came in with Sheykh Jemal-ed-Din.[1] When I saw
the Sheykh in London in the spring, he wore his Sheykh’s dress. Now
he has clothes of the Stambouli cut, which, however, sit not badly
on him. He has learned a few words of French, but is otherwise
unchanged. Our talk was of India, and of the possibility of my
being able to get the real confidence of the Moslems there. He
said that my being an Englishman would make this very difficult,
for all who had any position to lose were in terror of the
Government, which had its spies everywhere. He himself had been
kept almost a prisoner in his house and had left India through fear
of worse. Any Sheykh who gained notoriety in India was tracked and
bullied, and if he persisted in an independent course he was sent
on some charge or other to the Andaman Islands. People, he said,
would not understand that I wished them well, and would be too
prudent to talk. The poorer people might, not the Sheykhs or the
Princes. He thought Hyderabad would be my best point, as there were
refugees there from every province of India, and they were less
afraid of the English Government. He said he would write me some
private letters to explain my position, and to the editors of some
Mohammedan newspapers. I told him what the political position was,
and how necessary it seemed to me that the Moslems should show that
they joined the Hindus in supporting the Ripon policy. All depended
on the Indians showing a united front. He said they might have
courage, if it could be proved to them that there were people in
England who sympathized with them, but they only saw the officials,
who _never smiled when they spoke to them_. I asked him about the
language I should most prudently hold regarding the Sultan, and he
advised me to say nothing against the Sultan in India, or about an
Arabian Caliphate; it had been spread about that the English were
going to set up a sham Caliphate in Arabia, under a child, whom
they would use to make themselves masters of the holy places; the
Sultan’s name was now venerated in India as it had not formerly
been.
“_14th Sept._--Jemal-ed-Din and Sanua and Sabunji came to
breakfast, and we stayed talking all day. The Sheykh brought
with him letters which he had written to the Nawab Abd-el-Latif
of Calcutta, and the Nawab Rasul Yar Khan of Hyderabad, both of
which I hope may be of great value. He told us some interesting
particulars as to his own people and family, repudiates the idea
of the Afghans being a Semitic people, says on the contrary that
they are Aryans, like the inhabitants of Northern India, but his
own family is Arabian, and they have always preserved in it the
tradition of the Arabic language. He also discoursed on history. I
read them my poem ‘The Wind and the Whirlwind,’ which Sabunji in
part translated to the Sheykh. He said that, if he had been told
there was in the world an Englishman who really sympathized with
the misfortunes of India, he would not have believed it. Sanua
exhorted me to have the poem translated into good Arabic verse
by El-Rakkam, a pupil of Abdu’s. I also went through with him a
programme I have drawn up for the restoration of the National Party
in Egypt, and talked over with the Sheykh a scheme of restoring the
Azhar as a real university for all Islam, and he explained how it
had been in old days.”
The same evening we took train to Marseilles, and went on by
Messageries steamer to Egypt, where we spent a fortnight. Our stay
there was productive only of disappointment as far as the political
situation went. I found Sir Evelyn Baring, when I called on him,
willing enough to talk things over with me, but half-an-hour’s
conversation was sufficient to convince me that, whatever Mr.
Gladstone might dream or pretend to dream about restoring the
National Party and recalling the exiles, nothing was further
from Sir Evelyn’s mind. He had no intention whatever but that of
supporting the Khedive and the party of reaction. We consequently
turned our steps once more eastwards, and embarked at Suez on the
9th of October, in the British India ship “Ghoorkha,” having so far
altered our original plan of travel as to include in it Ceylon,
where we desired to visit our exiled Egyptian friends, Arabi Pasha
and his four companions. We intended to stay with them a few days
only and pass on thence into Southern India.
We were delayed, however, longer than we thought. I had hardly got
on board when I began to develop a malarious fever, which, before
the end of the voyage had become serious. The “Ghoorkha” was a
detestable conveyance, overcrowded, swarming with vermin, and
miserably provided. There was no doctor on board, nor any means of
comfort for a sick person. Driven out of my cabin by the heat and
its discomforts, I was laid on a table in the saloon, and there
passed my days in extreme wretchedness but nursed by my wife and
her maid Cowie, who was devoted and admirable on such occasions.
Our fellow passengers were a rough set of Colonial English and
planters from India, Assam and Burmah. With these we had a constant
battle for existence. In the early days of the voyage I still tried
to write my journal, and I give such extracts from it as have
anything of public interest.
“_10th Oct._--The only persons on board we know anything of are
the half-caste Russell going to Jeddah, and a young fellow, Mrs.
Palmer’s brother, who has been given a Government place worth £800
a year in the Mint at Calcutta. He is to stay there two years, and
then to be transferred to the London Mint, this doubtless through
Lord Northbrook.”
This is a good instance of the way the Indian revenue is sometimes
made use of to evade the difficulties of jobbery in England.
Professor Palmer had been sent by Lord Northbrook, then at the
Admiralty, on a secret mission connected with the intended invasion
of Egypt, and had lost his life (see “Secret History of the English
Occupation of Egypt”), and his widow had applied to his lordship
for a pension. As the mission was a secret one, and could not be
avowed, it was not found possible to include this in the English
Navy Estimates, so Palmer’s brother-in-law was jobbed into the
Indian service in the way described, as part of the compensation
due to his widow.
“The rest of the passengers are tea-planters, or English settlers
in India, the class most angry at the Ilbert Bill, and we are not
very amiably regarded by them. I have passed my time reading the
‘Koran,’ which is a great consolation in circumstances such as
ours. There are moments when I could arise and proclaim a _jehad_
on board.
“_11th Oct._--I have had some conversation with an intelligent
young tea-planter settled near the Burmese frontier. He seems
to think a new rebellion is brewing in India. In his district
within the last two years the villagers have taken to cursing
the English when they pass, and even throwing stones. He has the
usual arguments against the Ilbert Bill--the venality of native
magistrates, prevalence of native false witness, and the rest.
In another district the planters had sworn that they would not
accept the bill if it became law, but would deal in their own way
with the first native magistrate who presumed to try a European.
He did not believe the bill would pass. If it did, India would
be lost. The natives were already ‘far too cheeky.’ A sensible
old lady who has lived twenty-five years in Burmah had something
of the same opinion, but spoke very strongly against the opium
trade. The Buddhist priests of Burmah have complained that our
rule has demoralized the country, which before had no vices, but
is now given up to opium eating and spirit drinking. She says this
is quite true, and that the Government forced their opium on the
people for the sake of the revenue. She likes Burmah, nevertheless,
and is going out now with the whole of a very numerous family
undismayed at possible dangers.
“_12th Oct._--The Feast of Beiram. The waiters and crew, most of
whom are Moslems, said their prayers together on the forecastle,
having put on clean turbans. We are passing Socotra, which lies
north of us, ranges of barren hills.
“_13th Oct._--Last night an old indigo planter with a bottle nose
entertained us with his views on the Ilbert Bill and kindred
matters. He had been twenty years in Bengal; there were fewer
planters now than before the Mutiny; the planters were the backbone
of the Empire, and saved it in the Mutiny, and now were the
backbone of its finance. I asked him to explain this, and he said
that they advanced money to the Zemindars to enable them to pay
the Government dues. They charged no interest, but took villages
in exchange, their only advantage being that the villagers worked
their indigo grounds for them. The planters would all leave India
if the Ilbert Bill passed.
“There is a Mr. Y. on board who bought nine thousand acres of land
last year from the Government, but the natives on it would only
pay rent for sixteen acres, though they occupied it all. He was
very indignant, and said the Indian Empire would go to ruin if
they played any tricks with it. It was a conquered country, and
the niggers were all rogues from the first to the last. The little
tea-planter joined in, but assured us that no improvement was to
be expected from making them Christians. Some of the planters in
his neighbourhood had employed converted coolies, but found them
far worse than the others; they used sometimes to go away all
together and drink for a week at a time. Nobody became a Christian
except for some underhand object, and as soon as he had got it
he went back; he considered drinking part of the conversion. He
mentioned how an Englishman of his district had been condemned
to a year’s imprisonment for manslaughter on false evidence, as
the man he had injured had not died--though the Englishman beat
him. They asked me what the English Government meant to do, what
their idea was in upsetting things? I said I believed it was
merely a question of economy; the Indian Government as it was
did not pay its expenses; it was like sending away an expensive
Scotch gardener from a poor garden; the country would be worse
administered perhaps. I consoled Mr. Y., however, by assuring him
that the people now in office, Lord Kimberley, Lord Northbrook,
and Lord Granville, were as little likely to do anything really in
the direction of freeing the Indians as any three Tories in the
kingdom. In answer to a question, the tea-planter said: ‘Of course
it is impossible to get on without being bullies now and then, but
it is a good rule never to touch the natives unless you mean it in
earnest. If you strike a nigger and he thinks you are afraid to
hit him hard, he runs you in to a certainty before the magistrate,
but if you give it him well, he knows he deserves it. You must
be careful, however, not to overdo it, for they are very soft,
and four out of five have enlarged spleens, and they are capable
without any exaggeration of dying to spite you.’
“_14th Oct., Sunday._--I am worse again to-day, and can do nothing
but sit up and lie down, and wish I was dead. The Moslem servants
have found out we are different from the rest of their masters on
board, and are very attentive. What irritates them particularly,
they have told Sabunji, is that nobody speaks to them by name,
but only as ‘boy’ here, and ‘boy’ there. There is a bitter hatred
between them and the passengers, and no wonder. Not that there is
any actual ill-treatment by these--that was put a stop to three
years ago by a strike among the Bengalis, who refused any longer
to be beaten on the British India boats--but brow-beating there is
in plenty. Last night young Langa, Mrs. Palmer’s brother, came to
sit with us. He told us he had been given his place in the Indian
Mint, although he was not even an Englishman. His father had been
a Polish patriot, and he was indignant at the way the natives were
treated on board. He is an amiable boy of about twenty-three, very
like his sister in face and voice. A yellow butterfly was blown on
board to-day.
“_15th to 18th Oct._--Too ill to write. Last night, however, we
cast anchor at Colombo just after sunset. We expected our friends
to come to us on board, but I was too tired to care. Sabunji went
forth like the raven from the Ark, and did not any more return!”
The next three weeks I spent grievously sick, and then beginning
to be convalescent, at Colombo. On the morning of the nineteenth
our friends Mahmud Sami and Arabi came on board to take us to a
beautiful country house the former had prepared for us, and on
landing we were received by a deputation from the Mohammedans of
the town. The whole road we found had been decorated with flowers
for our reception, and there was a triumphal arch at the entrance
to the house, which was some miles from the landing-place. I was
carried through it all, hardly conscious of what was going on, nor
of the fireworks and illuminations which took place in my honour
in the evening. My journal contains no record of these days until
the 3rd of November, when I find a pleasant description of my daily
life.
“_3rd Nov._--I get up every morning as soon as it is light, and am
carried to the verandah, where I sit and watch the rather curious
view which is in front of the house. The house stands fronting a
piece of fresh water, which is the river’s mouth and is used by
the fishing boats as a harbour. Beyond it there is a long strip of
sand covered with green bushes, and beyond that again the sea. The
fishing boats come in over the surf at daybreak, and then double
back up the reach of still water, and just in front of the house
are run up on the shore. It is astonishing how fast they sail, and
how steady they are in the breakers. But they are of Catamaran
build, and seem able to go where they like, and do what they like.
They are quite light, too, for a man and a boy can pull them up
high and dry without difficulty. When out at sea, those on board
are half in the water, but they cannot upset, because as they
heel over there is a spar resting on the water to which the boat
is spliced. They are obliged, however, to run before the wind as
they cannot easily tack. Then, soon after sunrise, boys come with
goats which they turn out to graze on the green bushes; and then
men with horses and oxen which they bathe in the river. None of
the men swim, but they stand about in the shallow water, ducking
up and down and splashing each other, so that with their long hair
they look just like women. The oxen come in carts, and are taken
out and bathed with pails which are poured over their backs, and
the ponies are treated in the same way. It is a very pretty sight,
and the same beasts and people come every morning, so that I seem
to know them all. I sit there in a dreamy state drinking my coffee,
and then go back to bed.
“Later in the day a sofa is put for me under the other verandah
by the garden, and I have another kind of view. There is a grove
of bananas with fruit nearly ripe, and all day long the little
gray squirrels, which are hardly bigger than mice, run over them,
jumping from branch to branch and looking into the bunches to
see if there are any ripe enough to eat. They make a shrill cry
when a kite or crow passes overhead, which is like a bird’s. Then
there are flowers, red and yellow and blue, which are visited by
little birds like willow wrens, who get at the honey by pecking
through the stalks. But in the middle of the day there are only
butterflies, almost every day new ones, black and yellow, black and
blue, and once one black and green; also small yellow butterflies,
and black and white ones, and a butterfly like a large red Admiral,
and that great russet-coloured one which one sees everywhere in
Asia and North Africa, a link between the East and the West,
_Chrysippus_. These sometimes come into the verandah, and are near
getting caught in the great spiders’ webs under the roof. The
afternoons are generally rainy, but after the showers lizards come
out and climb the bushes, and they have a favourite bush with dark
leaves, in which one day I saw a chameleon. About four o’clock the
sky becomes dark with hooded crows and jackdaws returning from the
town to an island on the river where they roost. They raise a great
clamour, and I have made a calculation that about seventy thousand
pass every evening across the small bit of sky which I can see.
They often stop on a banyan tree as they go by, or on the coco-nut
palms. The other birds seem all afraid of them. At last, as it gets
dark, they are gone, and then two little black and white robins
come out and sit on a post and rail, and hiss at each other like
blackcaps, and a pair of listless yellow-legged thrushes follow
them and hop about among the grass. Then it gradually gets quite
dark, and the fireflies come out chased by birds like nightjars,
and the lamp is lit, and Cowie brings me my tea, and I am carried
back to bed. This has been my life these twenty days.”
During these three weeks, which in some ways were among the
happiest of my life, for I always look back to the periods of
recovery from a severe illness as being such, I was not without
visits from our friends the Egyptian exiles and others of the
Mohammedan community of Colombo. Arabi, especially, came daily
to see me, and I found him of an extreme gentleness and kindness
in a sick room. He was anxious to do all he could for me, and
recommended me such remedies as are used by the fellahin in Egypt,
and even took off from his arm, where he habitually wore it, a
little leathern bag containing a charm or incantation and placed it
upon mine. To this he attributed my recovery, and it may have been
effective in this way, combined with the fresh milk which formed
for the first fortnight my sole diet. I tried to believe it, and
would have willingly believed too the other articles of his simple
fellah faith. With Arabi and the other exiles I naturally had much
talk about the past events of their country. But what they told me
I need not here recapitulate, as I have already embodied it with
much else in my Egyptian Memoirs.
I find in my diary that on the 6th of November I went out for my
first drive, and that in the company of Arabi and Abd-el-Aal I went
into Colombo, and that we saw Gregory’s statue together in the
Cinnamon Gardens, and three days later that I attended a public
dinner given in my honour by the local Mohammedans. At this I made
a public speech. Arabi had proposed the Queen’s health in a few
words of Arabic, and my own speech took the form of a return of
thanks. From the date of their arrival at Colombo, the exiles had
been exceedingly well treated by the Governor of the Island and
his subordinates, and were in the habit of being invited to all
the great receptions at Government House. And on the other hand,
with their own co-religionists, they had attained a position of
the highest consideration, Arabi being in the habit of leading the
prayer in the principal mosque on Fridays.
The Mohammedans of Ceylon are known there as “Moors,” a name given
them originally by the Portuguese, which is applied also to the
Mohammedans of the south-west coast of India. They belong to a far
older Mohammedan settlement than the Moguls of the north, being, in
fact, the descendants of Arab traders who in the first centuries
of Islam came not as conquerors, but as commercial settlers from
Oman and Yemen. Unlike the Mohammedans of the north, they are a
pushing and prosperous community, having most of the shop-keeping
trade in their hands, especially that of jewel merchants. There
is also a comparatively small Mohammedan community of Malays, the
descendants of a force of Malay soldiers formerly maintained by the
Dutch. With them I found living on terms of friendly intercourse
the Brahminical Tamils, who consider themselves to be of Dravidian
race, originally from Southern India, though they have probably
mixed much with the Aryans in past times. They, too, are a pushing
race, commercial and combative, and had driven the Cingalese out
of half the island before the arrival of the Portuguese in Ceylon.
The Dravidians number here and in Southern India some seventeen
millions, and the Tamils are considered their leading branch.
Their form of Brahminism is of a purer type than in the north,
as they hold closer to the Vedas, so much so that the Brahma
Suraj reformers make no way with them; their doctrines have been
forestalled. They are also more particular about the consecration
of their idols, and the performance of their religious ceremonies.
The head of their community at Colombo, Ramanatha, told me that he
had been shocked in Northern India at the rough and ready idols
even the princes worshipped, unconsecrated, in their own houses. He
says there is a good feeling between all the members of the Asiatic
creeds at Colombo, but the Catholics, Methodists, and Wesleyans are
on bad terms with these. The Catholic population is large along
the coast. On the 9th the Tamils entertained me at a banquet, to
which the Egyptian Pashas and several Europeans were also invited.
These were Mohammedan Tamils, of whom there were about one hundred
present. Though unfit for it, for I was very tired, I made a long
speech, or rather sermon, to them on the subject of Mohammedan
reform, and reform in their political life. It was rather a
venturesome attempt, but was well received by them. I spoke, of
course, in English, which all understood.
We also made acquaintance, while in Colombo, with the Governor,
Sir Arthur Gordon, a very excellent man, who was on the best of
terms with the various native communities. There was in Ceylon a
good tradition of this kind, dating, I believe, from Sir William
Gregory’s governorship some years back, and contrasting in a very
marked manner with the relations I afterwards found in India
between the rulers and the ruled. Ceylon’s position as a Crown
colony, with institutions of a semi-representative kind, puts the
natives of the island in a position of comparative equality with
the Europeans, and is answerable, doubtless, for the better feeling
displayed towards them by these, at least in public. There is none
of that extreme and open arrogance we find in Northern India. Nor
was there on the part of the natives I came in contact with any
expression of that race bitterness which in India is universal. On
Sunday, the 11th November, my journal, interrupted by my illness,
begins again to be regularly kept.
“_11th Nov._--We bade good-bye to our friends, and took steamer
for Tuticorin, the southernmost point of the Indian peninsula. The
night before I had a serious talk with Mahmud Sami. He is a man
of a very superior education, and has behaved to us throughout
as our host with the most consummate courtesy. Immediately after
breakfast came some other chief friends among the Moors, with them
Haj Ibrahim Didi, the Sultan of Maldive’s nephew, who is also
Consul for him, though the Maldive Islands are so cut off from the
mainland that he has had no communication with head-quarters for
years. The Pashas came on board to see us off, and I embraced each
one of them as they went over the ship’s side, and, last of all,
Arabi, for whom I feel a true affection. In spite of faults and
failings, there is something great about him which compels one’s
respect. His faults are all the faults of his race, his virtues are
his own.
“Looking back on the last three weeks spent in Ceylon, I recognize
in them perhaps the happiest of my life. When I arrived I was so
weak I could have died happily. But, though I did not die, I have
had such satisfaction as seldom comes on earth, that of seeing
the bread one has cast on the waters return to one a hundredfold,
a feeling that at last the power to do good has been won, and
more than one’s wishes granted. This is true pleasure and true
happiness. I regret the quiet life at Mahmud Sami’s as I regret a
home. We could see the banyan tree in the garden, and the boats on
the shore, and the columns of the verandah as we steamed away. I
doubt whether I shall ever be happier than I have been there.”
FOOTNOTE:
[1] A history of Seyyid Jemal-ed-Din Afghani, the well-known leader
of Liberal Panislamism will be found in my “Secret History of the
Occupation of Egypt,” 1907. Mr. Sabunji had been employed by me
in Egypt, and accompanied me there on the present occasion as my
secretary as far as Ceylon.