Arboreal King of the Forest.--The Palm
Family.--Over-Generous Nature and her Liberal
Provisions.--Product of the Cocoanut-Tree.--The
Wide-Spreading Banian.--Excellent Public Roads.--Aquatic
Birds and Plants.--Native Fruit Trees.--The
Mangosteen.--Spice-Bearing Trees.--Treatment of
Women.--Singhalese Rural Life.--Physical Character of Tamil
Men.--Tree Climbing.--Native Children.--Numerical Relation
of the Sexes.--Caste as respected in Ceylon.--Tattooing the
Human Body.
Of all vegetable nature, so abundant, prolific, and beautiful in this
equatorial region, one most delights in the characteristic and
ever-present palm,--arboreal king of the forest. Ceylon has seven very
important varieties native to its soil, which are found in great
abundance especially upon the southern coast of the island. These are
the cocoanut, the palmyra, the kittool, the areca, the date, the
talipot, and the fan palm. The latter member of this family, seen in
greatest perfection at Singapore, is a conspicuous ornament which
greets the stranger immediately upon landing, and its peculiar shape
is almost constantly to be met with, go where one may upon that
interesting island. It springs up from the earth with a comparatively
short stem before the branches begin, unlike most other palms,
presenting an appearance of an expanded fan, as though it were
artificially trained to grow in this particular shape. It reaches a
height of forty feet or more, and forms a distinctive feature of the
scenery. Its roots, like those of the asparagus plant, are small and
innumerable, seeking sustenance by means of these tentacles which
expand irregularly in all directions.
The fan palm is to be seen in California, but it is of inferior
growth, and is not indigenous there. At the north of Ceylon, the
palmyra palm prevails, while the south and southwest coast are
literally lined with large and thrifty groves of cocoanut palms, the
value of whose products is immense. The care and rendering of these
gives employment and support to whole villages of natives. Unlike the
date, the cocoanut palm bears male and female buds on the same
branches. The last-named tree thrives best, and bears most fruit, when
growing near the salt water, a peculiarity which does not apply
specially to other members of this family.
It is a fact worthy of mention that the cocoanut palm, like the camel,
is always found associated with man. There are no wild camels, and the
cocoanut-tree does not flourish in the wilderness. It is most at home
when its tall, smooth gray stem inclines gracefully, heavy with fruit,
over some native, rudely thatched cabin, a picture which is constantly
repeating itself in the southern part of Ceylon.
On first approaching the island, it is seen that the shore is
palm-fringed from Dondra Head to Colombo, and even far north of the
latter place. The picturesque cocoanut groves come down close to the
sea, from which they are separated only by a golden belt of yellow
sand, over which the trees incline gracefully, with their broad,
plume-like foliage half hiding the ripening clusters of russet-clad
fruit hanging fifty or sixty feet skyward. The salt spray of the
Indian Ocean impregnates the atmosphere when the monsoons blow,
stimulating the palms to unwonted vigor and fruitfulness. So uniform
is their growth along the level shore that the tall white trunks with
their feathery crowns seem to stand in closed ranks like a line of
soldiers at "parade rest."
The reason of the extensive geographical distribution of the cocoanut
palm is doubtless from its growing in such close proximity to the sea.
The ripe nut falls upon the shore and is floated by tide and wind to
other islands and coral reefs, where in due course it propagates
itself and in turn begets other seeds which seek new lands in a
similar manner and there plant themselves. The small islets of the
Indian Ocean and the South Pacific have thus become heavily wooded
from chance beginnings, though it has required many ages to bring
about the present conditions.
The cocoanut palm is to the natives of Ceylon what the date palm is to
the Arabs of the desert. Its regular cultivation is one of the
recognized industries. The nuts designed for planting are selected
from the best which are produced, and are kept upon the tree until
they are thoroughly ripe, when they are placed in a nursery, partially
covered with earth, and exposed to the sun. There they remain until a
sprout shoots up from the eye of the nut, and when this reaches the
height of nearly three feet, it also shows long, irregular roots
hanging from the base. It is then planted in the ground at a depth of
about two feet. The young tree grows very slowly for six or seven
years, increasing more in stoutness than in height. Presently it
starts afresh to grow tall quite rapidly, and by the eighth or ninth
year it begins to bear fruit. Though the cultivation of this tree is
so important, and ultimately so profitable, in equatorial regions that
one would not think of its being neglected, still, owing to the length
of time required to bring it to the fruit-bearing condition, the ever
lazy natives do not expend much effort in the business. The long
period between the seed and the product discourages them. Nature,
however, steps in and fills the gap by the chance planting of many
trees annually, and when these reach a certain growth suitable for
removal, they are transplanted into advantageous situations. The new
palms which are thus added yearly much more than keep good their
numbers, as they are hardy and long-lived trees.
Thus it is that Nature is over-generous, and makes liberal provisions
for her children in all instances. The camel has a foot especially
designed for traveling upon the desert sands. Birds of prey possess
talons suitable for seizing, and powerful beaks formed for severing
their natural food. The tiniest plant shows exquisite adaptation to
the climate where it is placed. Animals of the Arctic regions are
covered with fur adequate to protect them from the freezing
temperature in which they live. The most barbarous tribes are not
forgotten. Wherever we find them, their food and necessities are sure
to be discovered close at hand. Examples might be multiplied by the
hundred. Ceylon alone offers us confirmation which is irrefutable, few
spots on earth being better adapted to supply the natural wants of
primitive man.
A thoughtful person cannot fail to be impressed with the remarkable
adaptation of the palm family to the requirements of the natives of
this region. Take, for instance, the cocoanut-tree, and realize for a
moment its bountiful, beneficent products. It affords never-failing
water in an always thirsty clime. Nutritious and palatable cream is
obtained from its luscious nut; toddy to refresh the weary traveler,
or arrack when fermented, comes from the same source, besides a rich
oil for various domestic uses. Thus we have five distinct products
from the cocoanut-tree, while the wood of the trunk itself affords
material for many uses. The oriental poet designates three hundred
different purposes to which the palm and its fruit can be profitably
applied. The green nut contains nearly a pint of cool, sweet water;
cool in the hottest weather, if partaken of when it is first gathered
from the tree. The inner rind of the ripe nut, when reduced to a
pulp, yields under pressure a cup of delicious cream. The toddy is sap
produced from the buds thus divested, instead of permitting them to
ripen and form the final nut. When it is first drawn, this liquid is
pleasant and refreshing, like the newly expressed juice of the grape,
or still more like Mexican pulque, produced by the American aloe,
which is the universal tipple of the people south of the Rio Grande.
By fermentation of the liquids obtained from the buds of the palm and
from the stout stalk of the aloe, it becomes like alcohol, and is
decidedly intoxicating. Cocoanut oil, produced from the fully ripe and
dried meat of the nut, is a great staple of export from Colombo and
Point de Galle. Each cocoanut-tree produces on an average from fifty
to a hundred full and perfect nuts, yielding about a score the first
year of its coming into bearing.
The cocoanut palm is the most common and most valuable of this family
of trees, and next to it is the areca. The top of the former always
bends gracefully towards the earth, affording the Eastern poets a
synonym for humility, while the stem of the latter is quite remarkable
for its perfectly upright form. Undoubtedly the cocoa palm does thrive
best where it gets the influence of the sea breezes tinctured with the
salt of the ocean, but it is a mistake to suppose that this tree does
not thrive inland in Ceylon. Some of the finest specimens to be met
with are in the central province of the island, between Kandy and
Trincomalee.
The talipot palm is very marked in its nature, and is specially
interesting to naturalists; fine specimens are to be seen all over the
island. Its most remarkable peculiarity is that it flourishes about
forty or fifty years without flowering; then it seems to arrive at
maturity, blooms in regal style, yields its abundant seed, and
dies,--the only vegetable growth known which passes through such a
uniformly prolonged process of ripening and decay, not forgetting the
misnamed century plant. The flower of the talipot is a tall, pyramidal
spike of pale yellow blossoms, standing twenty feet above its heavy
dark-green foliage like a huge military pompon. It is pronounced by
botanists to be the noblest and largest flower in the world, and this
is certainly so if we consider the whole clustering bloom as being one
flower. The leaves of the tree when full-grown are large and of a deep
green, but when young they are a pale yellow, and are then dried and
used for writing upon. Leaves of the talipot have been measured in
Ceylon which have attained the length of twenty feet, and they are
used by the natives for the erection of tents. The author has seen in
Brazil leaves of what is known as the inaja palm fifty feet long and
ten or twelve wide.
The young leaves of the palmyra palm are also employed for
manuscripts, or rather were until lately. They are prepared by
steeping them in hot water or milk, after which they are dried and
pressed between pieces of smooth wood. The ancient Mexicans before
Pizarro's time used the leaves of the aloe for a similar purpose. The
talipot palm is the queen of its tribe.
The betelnut is the product of the areca palm, and resembles a nutmeg
in shape and size. A couple of hundred generally form the annual yield
of a single tree. Like the cocoanut or our American chestnut, the
fruit grows inside of a husk, russet colored, and fibrous in its
nature. Farther to the eastward, among the Straits Settlements, the
areca palm is known as the Penang-tree because of its predominance in
that well-wooded island, where human life exhibits only its most
sensuous and lowest form, and where vegetation, fruits, and flowers
revel in exuberance.
The banian-tree with its aerial roots is indigenous to Ceylon,
flourishing after its peculiar fashion in all parts of the island. At
a point on the coast about half-way between Colombo and Galle, there
is a grand specimen of this self-producing arboreal giant. The road
passes directly through its extensive grove, beneath its dense and
welcome shade, which here forms a sort of triumphal arch. The author
has seen but one other example of the banian-tree so large and fine in
effect; namely, that of world-wide fame in the Botanical Garden just
outside of Calcutta, under the thick foliage and branches of which a
whole regiment of infantry might comfortably encamp. The age of the
banian is incalculable. It multiplies itself so that it may be said
in one sense to live forever. Many centuries of age are claimed for
this tree in the south of Ceylon.
Speaking of the road between Colombo and Galle, too much praise cannot
be bestowed upon these government thoroughfares. Whether on long or
short routes, they are admirably and substantially constructed,
consequently they are easy to keep in good order. The island has over
three thousand miles of made roadways in an area of twenty-five
thousand square miles. "The first and most potent means of extending
civilization," says a modern pioneer, "is found in roads, the second
in roads, the third again in roads." The best thoroughfares in the
neighborhood of our New England cities are hardly equal to these. The
Ceylon public roads would delight Colonel Pope, of bicycle fame; he
who so eloquently and none too earnestly advocates the great
importance of good common roads, especially in New England, where we
are, when the truth is fairly spoken, sadly deficient in them. The new
States of the West and Southwest far excel us in this respect. The
road on which we have just embarked, aside from its excellence in
point of usefulness (the railway from Colombo to Galle was not
completed when the author traveled over the route), is one of ideal
beauty, passing through a forest and shore region combined. This
turnpike abounds in unique effects and a succession of charming
surprises. One is never quite prepared for the natural tableaux which
constantly present themselves. An experienced traveler in the low
latitudes is apt to anticipate the probabilities when starting forth
on a new tropical route, but one must behold in order to properly
understand the nature of Ceylon forest scenery. The Colombo and Galle
road forms an almost continuous avenue through overarching cocoanut
palms, with frequent glimpses of the Indian Ocean on one side and of
fresh-water ponds and small lakes on the other, the latter all alive
with aquatic birds, such as water-pheasants, plovers, teal, sandlarks,
and the like. The "painted snipe," as it is called, is very common,
having a chocolate-colored head and a white collar, with back and
wings of green, the tail feathers being spotted with yellow like a
butterfly's wings. It is a very active bird and is never quiet for a
single moment, constantly teetering when upon its feet while seeking
for red worms in the sand. A very similar bird is often seen on the
salt-water beaches of New England, which resembles this Ceylon example
in shape, size, and habits, but not in the texture of its feathers.
The American bird also called snipe is of a uniform pale lavender
color. It is shy enough on our coast, but its tropical brother is as
tame as a pigeon. These places are teeming with blossoms,--pink
lilies, bearing broad, floating, heart-shaped leaves whose roots are
securely anchored to the bottom. Some of the plants resting so
serenely on the glass-like surface have short, delicate white roots,
and receive their nutriment only from the air and water, not coming in
contact with the earth at all. Others, with insect-inviting petals,
close promptly upon the victims allured to their embrace and digest
them at leisure, thriving marvelously upon this animal nourishment.
Any agency which tends to diminish the myriads of flies and mosquitoes
is an assured blessing.
When a native hut is seen, it is found scarcely to equal the ant-hills
in neatness and solidity of construction. Close by the cabin the
always interesting bread-fruit-tree rears its tall head, abounding in
its large pale green product, which forms a never-failing natural food
supply. It is a notable member of the fruit-bearing trees of these
latitudes, and is next in importance to the cocoa palm, with its
serrated, feathery leaves, and its melon-shaped product. The
bread-fruit weighs on an average ten pounds each, and often attains
double that weight. It is as fattening to cattle as the best Indian
meal, and the natives relish it, but to a European the bread-fruit is
not palatable. The tree grows about fifty feet in height, and requires
but very little attention to insure its welfare. Plenty of bananas,
the big jack fruit, mangoes, and plantains give altogether the
appearance of an abundance for the support of life. As regards the
valuable and, to the native, indispensable jack-tree, it is strongly
individualized, not only because it yields the largest of all edible
fruit, but also in the fact that the massive product grows out of the
body of the tree, and not, after the fashion of other fruits, upon the
small limbs and branches. Nature has made a special provision in
behalf of this tree. As it grows older and the fruit increases in
size, it is produced lower and lower on the trunk each year, until
from being grown near the top, it springs out close to the ground.
Though the short, rope-like stalk which holds the rough, green-coated
fruit is of strong fiber, still, when in ripe condition, it is apt to
fall to the earth. As the product increases in size, it would be
broken to pieces if it fell from any considerable height. The natives
apply themselves to its consumption with unlimited capacities. The
wood of the jack is much used for lumber, being easily worked, and
presenting a good surface even for common house furniture as well as
for lighter bungalow framework. Supporting timbers, however, must be
made from harder wood, so as to resist the inroads of the vicious
ants. The humble native tenement has a frame made from the tough,
golden-stemmed bamboo, which is to a casual observer apparently very
frail, but is nevertheless found to be extremely flexible, tenacious,
and lasting. Where the bamboo branches intersect each other, they are
securely bound together with thongs made from palm-tree fibre; this is
to secure them in position.
For a long time the luscious mangosteen was thought to be peculiar to
the islands of the Malacca Straits, but it is now found thriving in
this garden-land of Ceylon, having been long since introduced from
Penang. Attempts to domesticate it in southern India have proved
unsuccessful. The same may be said of the fragrant nutmeg, which has
become an article of profitable export from the island, though it is
not indigenous here. Along this turnpike road we occasionally pass
small cinnamon plantations, where the process of cutting and peeling
the bark is going on, considerable quantities being exposed and spread
out in the sun, whose intense heat dries it most rapidly. When labor
of any sort is in progress, even in the wet rice-fields, it will be
seen that the women perform the hardest tasks. In fact, this is to be
observed in town and country, both in domestic affairs and in the open
field, especially in the transportation of heavy burdens, which they
carry on their heads.
Making beasts of burden of women is not alone practiced in Ceylon. It
is also shamefully obvious in many European centres, where
civilization is supposed to have reached its acme. Americans who have
traveled in Germany, for instance, have often experienced disgust at
the debasing services required of the sex in that country. The author
has seen women, in Munich, carrying hods of bricks and mortar up long
ladders, where new buildings were being constructed, while hard by
their lords and masters were drinking huge "schooners" of lager beer
in taprooms, and lazily smoking foul tobacco.
Loitering beneath the shade of the trees contiguous to their cabins,
queer family groups of Singhalese natives watch the passing stranger
with curious, questioning eyes. Clothes are of little consideration in
a climate like this, and consequently nudity is the rule. The
preparation of food is intrusted mainly to Nature, whose bountiful
hand hangs ripe and tempting nourishment ever ready upon the trees,
where all are free to pluck and to eat. It is curious to see how
easily a native man or boy, with a rope of vegetable fibre passed
round his thighs and thence about the trunk of a palm, will, with feet
and hands thus supplemented, ascend a cocoanut-tree eighty feet or
more, to reach the ripe fruit. He moves upwards as rapidly as one
might go up a tall ladder. It is true, the rope sometimes fails, a
broken neck follows, and a fresh grave is required to decently inter
the remains. This is said to be one of the most "fruitful" causes of
fatal accidents in Ceylon. This sort of catastrophe, and poisonous
cobra bites, are almost as frequent and deadly in the island as
electric car accidents are in Boston or New York.
As one regards these lazy, betel-chewing, irresponsible children of
the tropics, idling in the shade of the palms, it does not seem
strange that they should lead a sensuous life, the chief occupations
of which are eating and sleeping. All humanity here appears to be more
or less torpid. There is no necessity to arouse man to action,--effort
is superfluous. The very bounty of Nature makes the recipients lazy,
dirty, and heedless. They live from hand to mouth, exercising no
forecast, making no provision for the morrow. It is the paradise of
birds, butterflies, and flowers, but man seems to be out of place; he
adds nothing to the beauty of the surroundings; he does nothing to
improve such wealth of possibilities as Providence spreads broadcast
only in equatorial regions. Bishop Heber's lines alluding to Ceylon
were certainly both pertinent and true: "Where only man is vile."
We were just now speaking of native family groups observed on the
route between Galle and Colombo, which is a thoroughly typical region,
and may well serve as a truthful picture of such scenes all over the
southern district of Ceylon. They would form admirable subjects for
photographic delineation,--a gratuitous suggestion for the modern
Kodak enthusiast.
The children of eight or nine years, who form a portion of these
groups, are as naked as when they were born, while their parents are
as scantily clad as decency will permit. The boys and girls have
large, brilliant, and intensely black eyes, with a strong promise of a
good degree of intelligence, but their possibilities are doomed to
remain unfulfilled amid such associations as they are born to. A few
more years and they will subside into languid, sensuous beings, like
their progenitors. They do but obey their polarity,--the "cherubim" of
destiny ought to be designated by a harsher name. The men wear a
white cotton cloth wound about their loins. The women have a similar
covering, sometimes adding a short, cotton, jacket-like waist. The
children have monstrously protruding stomachs, like the little darkies
of our Southern States, but yet as a rule they seem to be well and
hearty. The women of the Tamil race, especially, are of good form and
features, much handsomer than the Singhalese of the same sex. It is a
notable fact in this connection that there are fewer women in Ceylon
than men, a circumstance which has furnished a weak argument for some
native writers in favor of polyandry, which is still sanctioned in the
central districts. In the island of Malta, this relative position of
the sexes is entirely reversed.
The Tamil men are of good height, slim, with small limbs yet well
formed, and have pleasing features and bronzed skins, very similar in
hue to our North American Indians. The Singhalese are of a darker
complexion, not so light in figure; they affect European dress, adding
much ornamentation. They hold themselves of a superior class to the
Tamils, engaging only in what they consider a higher line of
occupation. The Tamils form the humbler and laboring population of the
country. They fully recognize the distinction between themselves and
the Singhalese proper, and they are universally called coolies. Caste
is never disregarded among them, its infinite ramifications extending
through all degrees and classes of the people, regulated by
universally accepted ideas. This peculiar system was early introduced
into the country from India, but was previously unknown here. It is
difficult for the uninitiated to understand its real import. There are
twenty or more castes rigidly adhered to, which may be rendered in
numerical order of importance as follows: The husbandman's occupation
comes first in dignity, followed by that of the fisherman; goldsmiths
rank as third, blacksmiths as fourth caste, and so on in the following
order: braziers, cinnamon peelers, washermen, barbers, potters,
tom-tom-beaters in the temples, etc. Domestic intercourse between
persons of different castes is inadmissible, and to marry below one's
caste is considered to be disgraceful. Feelings of intolerable pride
on the one hand and of abject humiliation on the other are thus
created and perpetuated. In each caste the children must follow the
occupation of the father; a carpenter's boys must be carpenters, and
his daughters must marry carpenters. Caste is therefore absolute death
to all promptings of ambition, according to native ideas. No one can
hope to rise above the grade in which he is born, and no one makes the
attempt. Nearly a century of English control has only served to
confirm these Asiatics in the thralldom of caste. How could it be
otherwise when the ruling power is itself a slave to the same idea?
Sir Matthew Arnold says: "Aristocracy now sets up in our country a
false ideal, which materializes our upper class, vulgarizes our
middle class, and brutalizes our lower class."
Both men and women among the natives in town and country are often
tattooed on their arms, legs, and bodies, while a few, but this is
rare, are decorated on their faces. A child less than ten years of age
was seen in the Pettah at Colombo, whose body was absolutely covered
with crude designs fixed indelibly by this process. One could not but
imagine how the little fellow must have been made to suffer during the
worse than useless operation, which is, even to a hardened adult,
little short of slow agony. This instance struck the author as being
the more remarkable because the Singhalese and almost all savage or
semi-civilized races are found to be remarkably kind to their
offspring, even as wild animals are. We are compelled in some degree
to qualify this assertion, since the missionaries tell us that in
certain parts of the island female infants are often destroyed at the
time of birth. If this is the case to any considerable extent, it
would account for the statistical fact that the men largely outnumber
the women in Ceylon. It is difficult to believe, however, that this
practice prevails in our day. With some barbaric tribes, religious
significance is attached to the habit of tattooing the human body.
This is the case in New Zealand, and in the islands generally of the
South Pacific. Among the former, professional tattooers go about from
tribe to tribe with rude but effective instruments, and operate upon
the Maoris, male and female, with great adroitness and considerable
artistic skill.
There is perhaps no other such universal practice as that of tattooing
which prevails among semi-savage races in various parts of the globe,
but especially among the South Sea Islanders. Many tribes, never
brought in contact with each other, seem to have originated the idea
among themselves.