The English Part of Colombo.--Army Reserves.--Ceylon an
Independent Colony.--"A Paternal Despotism."--Educational
Facilities.--Buddhism versus Christianity.--Public
Buildings.--The Museum.--Domestic Dwellings.--Suburb of
Colpetty.--The Lake of Colombo.--A Popular Driveway.--A
Sunset Scene.--Excursion to the Kelani Temple.--The
Jinrikisha.--Current Diseases.--Native
Jugglers.--Hypnotism.--Houdon, the French Magician,
astonishes the Natives.--The Thieving Crows.
In that part of Colombo known as the Fort, and situated south of the
Pettah, the English have spacious and well-arranged barracks, of
sufficient size to accommodate five thousand men of all arms. Of
course, no such force is required in Ceylon, and there are not such a
number of troops here at the present writing. The island is peaceful
enough, but the object of the British government is to maintain here,
as well as at Malta, a body of disciplined men ready for immediate
service, and especially prepared to reinforce the army of India in
case of an emergency. The judiciousness of this precaution was well
illustrated in 1857, when this station, from its small military force,
afforded such material aid at the outbreak of what the English call
the Indian mutiny, before alluded to.
This island, though it is a British colony like India, so near at
hand, is quite separate from it in governmental organization. Ceylon
is presided over by a governor appointed by the Queen of England, who
is aided in his official position by an executive council and a small
legislative body of fifteen or twenty individuals. Some one has called
the government of Ceylon "a paternal despotism." All ordinances are
submitted to the approval of Her Majesty before they become registered
law. The island is divided into provinces, each governed by a civil
servant, having under him a staff of European and native assistants.
The Roman-Dutch law, so termed, is the law of the island in all cases
not otherwise provided for. The government furnishes means for the
education of the rising generation, in the form of free schools, which
advantage, though not universally improved, is yet reasonably
successful. This is particularly commendable when it is remembered
that the government of England has remained far behind other civilized
countries in cultivating the intelligence of her people at home. It
was not until so late as 1870 that she entered upon a system of free
schools for the masses. The natives of Colombo are shrewd enough, in
many cases, to see material good in giving their children regular
school instruction, though they have not themselves enjoyed such a
privilege. In this connection it is well to speak of St. Thomas'
College, which is situated in the northeast suburb of the capital,
about a couple of miles from the Grand Oriental Hotel, close by Christ
Church Cathedral. This college is near the shore, in a most healthful
and airy location, the suburb being known as Mutwal, where the Kelani
River enters the sea. Here, between two and three hundred young men,
composed of Singhalese, Tamils, and the descendants of Portuguese and
Dutch colonists, are in constant attendance. Close at hand there is
also a high school for girls, admirably conducted, whose educational
advantages are availed of by a goodly number of natives.
Here let us diverge for a single moment.
Secular education is the true and only available missionary among
Asiatic tribes. Honest and experienced religionists are beginning to
see and admit the correctness of this conclusion. The preaching to
them by various Christian sects of very contradictory tenets of faith
confuses these simple people, who are still often shrewd enough to
detect broad inconsistencies, as well as to analyze and reason
concerning missionary efforts among them. They say very logically to
those representatives who are sent from America or Europe: "We are
agreed here upon Buddhism. When you Christians can agree among
yourselves as to which of your many doctrines is the right one, it
will be time enough for you to try to teach us to discard a faith
which our fathers have believed for thousands of years." More than one
intelligent Singhalese has expressed himself to this effect in our
presence. We leave it to the reader if these people are not perfectly
logical in their position.
Who can wonder that confusion inevitably arises in the simple mind of
a native of this Indian isle, who attempts to reconcile our
multitudinous sects and schisms?
We were speaking of the English portion of Colombo, which consists of
a few broad streets shaded by thrifty tulip-trees, an official
residence known as Government House, the long line of barracks already
referred to, a cathedral, a clock-tower (serving also as a
lighthouse), a club-house, hospital, some indifferent shops, two or
three banking establishments, a public library, and three or four
large hotels. The Colombo Library is situated on the corner of Queen
Street, and contains some twenty-five thousand volumes. Its facilities
are freely shared by strangers as well as by the citizens. The
lighthouse referred to is a hundred and thirty-two feet above sea
level; that on the end of the breakwater is a trifle less than forty
feet. The former shows a triple flash at brief intervals, visible at
night some twenty miles at sea. Among its ancient buildings, much
interest centres upon the Dutch church, and its curious old graveyard.
There are no less than six newspapers published in this circumscribed
community; two are in Singhalese, one in Tamil, and three in English.
We do not imagine that they have much of a circulation, and yet unless
they were self-supporting they would not probably be issued.
Type-setting is cheap in Colombo, and the quality of the paper used is
inexpensive.
The Museum of Colombo is a rather handsome and quite substantial
two-story building, situated near Victoria Park, which was formerly a
part of the famous Cinnamon Gardens, originally planted by the Dutch.
The collection of curiosities in the museum embraces a large number,
which have been found mostly upon the island, and includes many
interesting specimens of preserved birds, together with large and
small native animals and beautiful shells. There are also some
literary and historical treasures relating to Ceylon preserved here,
among which is a rare collection of palm-leaf manuscripts, both in
Pali and Singhalese, bound after an original fashion. The edifice,
which was built in 1877, is pleasantly situated, and surrounded by
well-arranged, cultivated grounds. The entrance is free to all.
Near the Colombo terminus of the Kandy road is the pleasant public
resort known as the Gordon Gardens, named in honor of Sir Arthur
Gordon, a former governor of Ceylon. This area was his personal gift
to the capital in memory of the jubilee of Her Majesty's reign. The
gardens are rendered very attractive on each Friday afternoon by the
performance of a military band; free outdoor instrumental concerts are
also given every week on the Galle Face.
A few of the better class of dwelling-houses in Colombo are finished
externally in stucco, all having the inevitable and indispensable
broad veranda. Surrounding these homes honeysuckles, crimson
hibiscus, azaleas, cape jessamines, oleanders, and other flowering
plants abound, with here and there little rocky mounds of lilies,
cacti, and low ferns; while the familiar palms, mangoes, and bananas
always make their appearance somewhere on the premises. Tennis courts
give an English look to the surroundings of the bungalows. The
unfortunate prevalence of dampness often proves very destructive
inside these picturesque residences. There are seasons when books and
papers, if exposed, are so seriously injured that they decay like ripe
fruit. Boots and shoes become mouldy in a single night, and other
articles are similarly affected.
Colpetty is the name of a very attractive suburb of the capital,
intersected by finely macadamized, level roads, which are kept in
admirable condition, running beneath shady bamboos and bending palms,
where the delightful fragrance of flowers is always present. Here a
small colony of Europeans have made for themselves delightful tropical
homes, half hidden by the abundant vegetation behind beautiful shade
trees where swinging hammocks and low music tell of delicious idleness
and restful ease. If you pass through the embowered ways of this
district after nightfall, your path will be lighted by glow-worms and
fireflies, just as phosphorescence illumines the darkness upon the
waters traversed by a ship's hull. It is the bedtime of the flowers,
but their fragrance lingers in the atmosphere and affords the most
careless participant sensuous delight. Here, as in many tropical
regions, the bungalows bear curious individual names, such as: Whist
Bungalow, The Rotunda, The Snuggery, Monsoon Villa, The Rainbow, Storm
Lodge, Palmyra Cottage, and so on. A similar custom prevails in the
West Indies.
In a small front yard of a bungalow at Colpetty, a few climbing vines
of the old-fashioned pink, purple, and white morning-glory greeted the
eye like the smile of a half-forgotten friend. How familiar and
suggestive they were in their sweet simplicity. One thrifty vine had
found lodgment upon a tall Norfolk Island pine, clinging upon its
singularly uniform branches, and making altogether a most delightful
combination of color. In the same inclosure were several tall trees of
the bell-shaped, white datura, the large flowers depending in great
profusion, as beautiful to the eye as they are poisonous to the
palate.
The unending night concerts of the ground and tree frogs in this
vicinity are marvelous for the aggregated noise they produce. At the
expense of calling down anathemas from the good friends whose
hospitality we enjoyed there, it must be added that this croaking was
almost unbearable; worse, if possible, than the symphony and
variations of the tuneful mosquitoes.
The large, fresh-water lake formed by the Kalani-Gunga, which, on its
course from the hills to the sea, covers nearly a hundred miles, straggles
about the town in irregular lines, so that at one point it very nearly
joins the sea. This river has been crossed at Colombo for many years by a
bridge of boats, which has several times been carried away by the turbulent
stream during the season of floods. A substantial iron girder roadway has
lately been added to facilitate travel. The old bridge is formed by a score
of boats firmly anchored, stem and stern, in a straight line, and
supporting a platform laid upon crossbeams, which is fastened to the boats.
The roadway is about five hundred feet long, the river being nearly that
width at the point where the boats are placed. In olden times, there was a
regularly established ferry here, but the bridge of boats has served
transportation to better purpose for many years. There are now few rivers
of any importance upon frequented routes in Ceylon which are left
unbridged, most of the structures being of stone and iron, and built after
the best modern system. The lake, with its surroundings, forms one of the
great beauties of Colombo, covering a broad expanse dotted with islands
fringed by tropical verdure, and embellished with many fragrant gardens.
The view across the still water, with its grand mountain background in the
blue distance, is exquisite, particularly at the close of day, when the
sunset leaves upon its surface a broad crimson gleam like a roseate blush
suffusing a beautiful face. Upon its glassy surface a few pleasure boats
add variety to the aquatic picture. There is a charming driveway or
promenade extending quite round the lake, and following all its sinuosities
amid low, broad-spread bungalows, cocoanut palms, plantains, and
bread-fruit-trees. Occasional waterfowls float among the cosy bays, or swim
out upon the lake, engaged in voyages of discovery.
The last time we chanced to observe this interesting expanse of water,
a bevy of muscovy ducks--the original stock having been imported by
some local official--put off from the shore like a fleet of Spanish
galleons of old, bent upon a marine foray. They were proudly led by a
drake, whose restless neck, with its brilliant prismatic hues, shone
like a cluster of oriental gems in the glow of the morning sun.
The popular driveway within the town is called the Galle Face, having
the open sea on one side and the lake on the other. Here, after four
o'clock in the afternoon, all the beauty and fashion of the place come
in many a gay turnout, and some on horseback, to enjoy the fresh air,
the ocean view, and to meet each other socially. Why this esplanade
bears the singular name of Galle Face, no one can explain. It is said
that it was so called because the roadway faced Galle, but it does no
such thing. It faces Aden at the mouth of the Red Sea. However, the
name is of little importance. It is a beautiful driveway, recalling
the Maidan of Calcutta, improved for a similar purpose.
There is one especially impressive scene to be enjoyed from this
point,--the daily sunset as viewed from the esplanade, when that
luminary sinks slowly beneath the surface of the long level reach of
the Indian Ocean, which, as we look westward, expands into infinite
space. During the brief interval between day and star light, it
appears to the watchful observer as though he were looking through a
veil, the fabric of which consisted of golden meshes. The air seems
full of infinitesimal amber particles, and all things are wrapped in
an oriental warmth of color. Where sky and ocean meet, a line of ruby
glow burns like lava, slowly changing to the hue of rich red wine.
What exquisite harmonies Nature utters to the willing ear, and what
inexpressible charms she reveals to appreciative eyes.
Twilight is brief in this latitude, Night, clad in her sombre garb,
following close upon the footsteps of the Day, while a soft roseate
light ushers in the myriads of heavenly lamps, tremulous and luminous
in their varying colors. "A fiery sunset burns itself out quickly,"
says the Italian proverb. Though the twilight is brief, the afterglow
is often very beautiful, almost rivaling the sunset itself.
Turning the eyes for a moment towards the opposite or eastern sky, the
dainty cloudlets, floating serenely in the blue ether, are tinged with
a glow of delicate and beautiful hues. From their lofty position the
sinking sun is still visible, causing them to blush at the ardor of
his parting glance. Perhaps it is because of the novel surroundings
that sunset often strikes one as being so remarkable in these foreign
lands. When we pause to analyze the matter, surely we have seen
equally fine effects in this daily occurrence at home in
Massachusetts, or at Bar Harbor on the coast of Maine.
As we enjoy this scene from the esplanade, a large P. and O. steamship
crosses the line of sight just off the shore, bound for Calcutta. She
will double Dondra Head and steer northward, touching at Madras;
thence, hugging the Coromandel coast, she will make the mouth of the
Hooghly River, upon whose treacherous tide she will seek to reach the
City of Palaces. We know the route and its stormy character only too
well.
There is a pleasant drive over the best and smoothest of roads to the
north of Colombo, affording a glimpse of characteristic scenery, and
which takes one out to the Kalani temple, where a fine library
containing many rare oriental books may be seen. This is believed to
be one of the oldest shrines on the island. The present edifice is
probably built upon the site of the original one. The temple of Kalani
contains a sitting statue of Buddha, with one each of Ganesa, Vishnu,
and Siva. The walls of the interior are covered with curious paintings
representing various legends, so that altogether it forms one of the
local objects of interest which the stranger should not fail to visit.
While upon this subject of places worthy of note in the neighborhood
of the capital, let us mention Avisawella, whither one goes by an
admirable and pleasant road into the Kalani tea district, fifteen or
twenty miles northeast of Colombo. Such excursions afford delightful
glimpses of rural island scenery, of birds, trees, flowers, and native
life, showing the humble class of country people at home, engaged in
their legitimate domestic occupations. A fifteen or twenty mile trip
and back is not too far to accomplish in a jinrikisha, and it is also
an extremely comfortable mode of traveling. It is just ten years, at
this writing, since this comfortable little vehicle was first
introduced into Ceylon, during which time it has become a great
favorite as a cheap and rapid means of transportation. The author has
made a similar jaunt inland from Yokohama, in a single day, the cooly
who drew the jinrikisha coming in at last in as fresh a condition as a
well-driven horse would do. It must be remembered that roads in Japan
and Ceylon are as perfectly smooth and hard as our best macadamized
ones in this country. The average of our Massachusetts inland roadways
will by no means compare favorably with the three thousand miles and
more of those which traverse this island in the Indian Ocean.
The choicest portion of Colombo as a place of residence is the suburb
nearest to Victoria Park, which is but little removed from the
business and bustle of the town. We say "bustle" of the town, but it
is a misleading word when it is applied to tropical life. The people
of equatorial regions think that haste makes waste, and so everything
is done quietly, and not without due consideration. This is a
temperament induced by the climate,--one into which even Europeans
lapse, after dwelling here for a considerable length of time. It is
stated that there are not more than six thousand Europeans upon the
entire island, but we are inclined to consider this an underestimate.
Statistics show that the rate of mortality as compared with the number
of the entire population is such as to prove the climate to be an
unusually healthy one for the tropics. There are certain portions of
Ceylon, however, to which this conclusion will not apply, where it is
so malarial and productive of fever that even the natives cannot live
in them. The most formidable diseases which prevail here are of a
malarial nature, but they do not always make their appearance in the
form of fever. Dysentery is apt to attack strangers, and elephantiasis
is of frequent occurrence among the natives, but it almost never
appears among white people. Diseases of the liver are also common.
Notwithstanding the prevailing heat in the southern portions of the
island, sunstroke is very rare. Persons of good habits, and who do not
unreasonably expose themselves, seem generally to enjoy good health.
Cholera and smallpox occasionally become epidemic, but rarely among
the Europeans. There is the usual prejudice shown by the common
people against vaccination, and consequently large numbers are
sometimes swept away by smallpox.
The slightest physical injury, such as a cut or bruise which breaks
the skin, requires prompt attention here, otherwise tetanus may
follow. It is the same in equatorial America, where a neglected wound
is very liable to terminate in lockjaw. An antiseptic bandage should
always be at hand for immediate use in case of accident in these low
latitudes, where the atmosphere is charged with poisonous microbes
watching a chance to do mischief; an open wound is just what they
seek, and they rush in myriads to infect any such spot.
One instinctively seeks the shade of the broad piazza which surrounds
the hotel, as the sun approaches the zenith. Only the early part of
the day and the late afternoon will admit of the traveler's appearing
abroad with any degree of comfort. A local tableau is pretty sure to
present itself, as it is the favorite time for the native jugglers and
snake charmers to appear upon the scene, squatting upon their hands
after the true Asiatic fashion, and quite oblivious of the fervor of
the broiling sun, while they solicit your attention to their
entertaining tricks. There are generally three performers on these
occasions, one of whom is the active member of the party, assisted by
a lad of twelve or fifteen years, while the third elicits peculiar
notes in a minor key from a reed instrument not unlike a flageolet,
but utterly devoid of harmony. One is forced to admit that they are
very clever, these Indian prestidigitators, excelling in all forms of
sleight-of-hand. Their facility in causing articles to disappear
suddenly and then to exhibit themselves in out-of-the-way places is
curious as well as unaccountable to an outsider. A common trick with
these performers is to throw a ball very high into the air, which
seems to fade away as the eye follows it, and does not apparently
return to the ground. It literally vanishes from sight. The keenest
watchfulness of the observer does not solve the manner of
accomplishing this trick.
"We are all hypnotized," said one of the spectators on the piazza,
"else how could that ball come down to the earth and not be seen to do
so? It _must_ descend, having once ascended," he added; "that is a law
of nature."
"It may possibly be something of that sort," responded another equally
dazed spectator. "The Hindus know all about hypnotism, and have
practiced it more or less for many centuries, though we are but just
beginning to investigate it."
"How these marvelous things are performed, no foreigner ever knows,"
added a third. "The power is handed down from father to son, but is
never revealed to the multitude."
The only way we can explain some of the tricks and apparent miracles
which these performers exhibit is by supposing that for the time
being we are quite under the hypnotic influence of the magician. The
author has seen in India proper a performer in this line extend a
glass bowl full of water in his hand at arm's length, and cause it to
gradually grow less and less in size until it disappeared altogether.
After a moment it appeared again in the hand and at the same place,
beginning at first about the size of an English walnut, and growing
before the spectator's eyes to its normal condition.
Another common trick is to plant a mango seed in an earthen pot before
the spectator's eyes and cause the same to spring up and grow into a
small bush, then blossom and bear a green fruit, which finally ripens
until it is in a condition to be plucked from the stem. This entire
process is accomplished in half an hour, while some side tricks are
going on. The swallowing of a sword, or rather passing its blade down
the throat into the stomach, is very common with these Singhalese
itinerant exhibitors, a facility which is acquired after much patient
practice, and which is not necessarily injurious to the performer.
The snakes which these "charmers," as they call themselves, handle
with such apparent recklessness and freedom are of the deadly cobra
family, fatally poisonous when their fangs penetrate the flesh of
other animals or of human beings; but as is well known, the repulsive
and seemingly dangerous creatures which are publicly exhibited in this
manner have had their natural means of defense carefully removed.
Yet, true to their instincts, they may be seen now and again to strike
viciously at the bare arms and legs of the natives who handle them,
while the performance is going on. It is not a very pleasing, though a
curious exhibition, and as a rule is avoided by ladies. The author has
seen a sensitive person of the gentler sex so wrought upon by this
performance as to cause her to faint. Sometimes the cobras do seem to
pay attention to the low, droning notes of the pipe, which is often
accompanied by a rude tom-tom. The creatures raise themselves up on
their tails, swaying slowly hither and thither with a uniform motion,
as though realizing that they are on exhibition. That they know their
owners is evident, since upon the approach of a stranger they
immediately show great irritation and a desire to strike with their
fangs. One never witnesses these scenes without a sense of surprise
that the cobras do not promptly endeavor to escape upon being taken
out of the box in which they are transported. They do not show any
such desire, but hasten back to their place of confinement, which is
doubtless made comfortable for them, and where some bit of favorite
food is always given to them after each exhibition. Thus they soon
learn to associate the idea of feeding time with their public
performance, which doubtless adds to their docility on the occasion.
These repulsive-looking creatures are hooded and spectacled, vary in
length from three to six feet, and are covered with dark spots upon a
slate-colored skin. Back of the head and along the neck is a membrane
which they have the power of expanding when under excitement, and
around the eyes are circles giving the effect of spectacles, which the
snakes seem to need, for though their hearing is acute enough they
have a very dull capacity as to sight. The cobra has received much
attention from naturalists in consequence of certain singular habits
which are attributed to the creature. The natives do not trouble
themselves much about it, except to give it a wide berth when it is
encountered, knowing only too well the fatal nature of its bite.
Professor Houdin, a famous Parisian magician, when on a visit to this
island, after watching the Indian jugglers for a week, invited as many
of them as chose to come to a public exhibition given by himself. The
natives came by scores, and the reader may be sure that Houdin did his
best. The Singhalese "sleight-o'-hand men," when they saw him perform
many of their own tricks with far greater expertness than they could
do, were surprised beyond measure. He then exhibited others so strange
and so inexplicable to them that the Singhalese declared he must be in
league with evil spirits. In their performances they were openly
assisted by one or two associates, a prime necessity to enable them to
deceive the lookers-on. But here was an unpretentious, simply dressed
European, who stood before them alone, with only a small, common table
upon which to place necessary articles, plainly shown before all eyes,
who yet puzzled them completely. His tricks were mostly new to them,
and they gazed with open mouths at the white necromancer, then into
each others' faces, as much as to say: "What does this mean? whence
does this man obtain power to perform miracles?" All this was
intensely amusing to the English residents of Colombo, who also formed
a large portion of the audience.
But the climax was yet to come.
When Houdin finally blew a fiery flame and smoke from his mouth,--a
well-known act among European performers,--these superstitious
islanders absolutely fled from his presence in undisguised
consternation, unanimously and vehemently declaring that he must be
the king devil himself come to bewitch them. This was the more
surprising as these Indian experts must have realized the true source
of their own deceptive powers.
The hoarse, monotonous croaking of the crows at all hours of the day
is one of the ceaseless annoyances and accompaniments of life in
Colombo. Early risers see whole colonies of these obtrusive and
omnipresent birds coming in from their roosting-places in the
neighboring groves, seeking whom they may devour. They advance in
irresistible numbers, like an army with banners loudly announcing
their approach, like a marching regiment preceded by noisy fifes and
drums, now wheeling as one huge body, and now breaking into sections
and platoons. One might successfully resist a score of them, but when
they come by the thousand, it is like a plague of locusts. Crows enjoy
nearly the same immunity throughout the populous districts of India
proper, and are to be found nearly as much in possession at Benares,
Delhi, or Cawnpore as they are here in the capital of Ceylon.
About twelve miles south of Colombo, just off the shore at Belligam,
lies what is known as Crow Island, whither thousands of these birds
resort every night to roost. They do not fail, however, to return to
the capital bright and early in the morning. Probably a flight of
twelve or fifteen miles from their regular night quarters before
breakfast is of no account to these active, swift-winged creatures.
There is still another crow-roost nearer to Colombo, at Mount Lavonia,
in the thick palm groves which skirt the shore, within rifle-shot of
that pleasant summer resort. When they awake in the early morning and
prepare for their flight cityward, the combined noise which they make
is something like the roar of artillery.