BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES.
_Kurunégala._--I have come to the conclusion that the courts and
judicial proceedings out here are a kind of entertainment provided for
the oysters at the expense of the British Government, and that the
people really look upon these institutions very much in that light.
Poor things! their ancient communal life and interests, with all the
local questions and politics which belonged thereto, and even to a
great extent the religious festivals, have been improved away; they
have but few modern joys--no votes and elections such as would delight
our friend Monerasingha--no circuses, theatres, music-halls. What
is there left for them but the sensations of the police-courts? The
district court here is, I find, the one great centre of interest in
the town. Crowds collect in the early morning, and hang about all day
in its vicinity, either watching the cases or discussing the judgments
delivered, till sunset, when they disperse homeward again. Cooling
drinks are sold, beggars ply their trade, the little bullock-hackeries
trot up and down, and the place is as busy as a fair. There is no
particular stigma in conviction by an alien authority; there is a
happy uncertainty in the judgments delivered by the representatives of
a race that has difficulty in understanding the popular customs and
language; and the worst that can happen--namely relegation to prison
life--affords a not unpleasant prospect. Besides, these institutions
can be used to gratify personal spleen; cases can be, and frequently
are, cooked up in the most elaborate manner. Damages can be claimed
for a fictitious assault; and when an injury has really been done, the
plaintiff (and this I find is a constantly recurring difficulty) will
accuse not only the author of the mischief, but Tom, Dick, and Harry
besides, who have had nothing whatever to do with it, but who are
the objects of personal spite, in the hope of getting them too into
trouble. The Cinghalese, as I have said before, are a very sensitive
people. Any grievance rankles in their bosom, and in revenge they will
not unfrequently use the knife. An Eurasian friend, a doctor, says that
he quite thinks cases might occur in which a man who had been wounded
or assaulted by another would _die out of spite_ in order to get the
other hanged!--would connive with his relations and starve himself, and
not try to heal the wound. He says however that the cases of ruptured
spleen--of which we so frequently hear--are genuine, as frequent fevers
often cause immense enlargement of the spleen, which then bursts for a
comparatively slight cause, _e.g._ a planter and a stick.
[Illustration: BULLOCK-HACKERY, COLOMBO.]
The courts in this country are generally large thatched or tiled halls,
sometimes with glass sides, but often open to the wind, with only a low
wall running round, over which, as you sit inside, a crowd of bare arms
and heads and bodies appears. At one end sits the English official,
dutifully but wearily going through his task, a big punkah waving over
his head and helping to dispel the slumbrous noontide heat; below him
stands the _mudaliar_, who acts as interpreter--for the etiquette
properly enough requires that the transactions of the court shall be
given in both languages, even though the official be a native or an
Englishman knowing the native language perfectly; at the table in the
centre are seated a few reporters and proctors, and at the other end
are the prisoners in the dock, and the policemen in their boots.
The cases are largely quarrels, and more or less unfounded accusations
arising out of quarrels, thefts of bullocks or of coco-nuts, and
so forth. The chief case when I was in court some days ago was
rather amusing. A few days before, three or four men, having been
accused, possibly wrongfully, of burglary, and having (on account of
insufficient evidence) been acquitted, went off straight from the
court to an arrack shop and got drunk. They then made it up between
them that they would rob the man thoroughly that evening, even if they
had not done so before, and give him a good hiding into the bargain;
and taking to themselves some other congenial spirits went off on
their errand. They found the man asleep in the verandah of his cabin,
and tying him down gave him some blows. But--as it came out in the
evidence with regard to the very slight marks on the body--before they
could have hurt him much, the man, with great presence of mind, died,
and left them charged with the crime of murder! An old woman--the
man’s mother--with a beautiful face, but _shaking with age_, came
forward to give evidence. She said she was nearly 100 years old, though
the evidence on this point was not very clear. Anyhow, her head was
remarkably clear, and she gave her testimony well; identified several
of the prisoners, said they had broken into the cabin and carried off
valuables, and that one, the leader, had motioned her into a corner of
the cabin, saying, “Stand aside, old mother, or you’ll get hurt,” while
another had come up to her and said, “I think I had better take those
bangles from you, as they are no good to you now, you know.” There were
_nine_ men charged with the offence, and they were committed for trial
in a higher court--very decent-looking scaramouches on the whole, just
about average types of humanity.
The English officials that I have seen here and at other places strike
me as remarkably good-hearted painstaking men; but one feels the
gulf between them and the people--a gulf that can never be bridged.
Practically all that a Government like ours does, or can do, is to
make possible the establishment of our social institutions in the
midst of an alien people--our railways, education, Bible missions,
hospitals, law-courts, wage-slavery, and profit-grinding, and all the
rest of it, in the midst of a people whose whole life springs from
another root, namely religious feeling. The two will never blend,
though the shock produced by the contact of two such utterly different
civilisations may react on both, to the production of certain important
results. Anyhow for a well-meaning official it must be depressing work;
for though he may construct a valuable tank, or what not, from the
highest motives according to his own lights--_i.e._ for the material
welfare of the people and the realisation of a five per cent. profit
to Government--still he never comes near touching the hearts of the
millions, who would probably pay much more respect to a half-luny
_yogi_ than to him and all his percentages.
A.’s friend, Sámanáthan, comes to read English with me every day,
and teaches me a little Tamil in return. He is something of a dandy,
with his green silk coat and hair plaited down his back, and delicate
hands and manners--a fellow over thirty, with a wife and children,
and yet not earning any livelihood, but remaining on at home with his
parents, and dependent on them! And what seems to us most strange, this
is quite an admitted and natural thing to do--such is the familiar
communism which still prevails. He is very much of a student by nature,
and in his native town (in India) gives lectures, philosophical and
theological, free of charge, and which are quite popular. He is reading
S. Mark with me, and reads it pretty well, being evidently familiar
even with the more philosophical words, though doubtful about the
pronunciation of some. He is interested in the story of Jesus, and
thinks Jesus was no doubt a “sage”--_i.e._ an adept--or at any rate
versed in the arcane lore of the East. But he is much amused at the
Christian doctrine of the redemption, which I suppose he has got hold
of, not from Mark but the missionaries.
* * * * *
On the 10th of this month (January), F. Modder and I went off on an
excursion from here to Dambulla (35 miles), and thence to Anurádhapura
(42 miles). Dambulla is celebrated for its Buddhist rock-temples, and
Anurádhapura is the site of a very ancient city, now in ruins amid the
jungle.
Despite all sorts of reports about the length of the journey and its
difficulty--the chief difficulty being that of getting any exact
information--M. managed to secure a bullock-cart _with springs_, and
two pairs of bullocks; and we made a start about 6.30 p.m. A mattress
in the cart and a pillow or two made all comfortable. We sat and
talked for a couple of hours, then walked, and then went to sleep.
With an average speed of _two_ miles an hour we reached the rest-house
at Gokarella at midnight, changed bulls, and immediately went on.
Another six hours brought us to the house of a Government medical
practitioner--a Cinghalese--where we got an early breakfast, and
finally we reached Dr. Devos’ house, at Dambulla, about midday.
[Illustration: CINGHALESE COUNTRY-CART.
(_Thatched with palm-branches._)]
The little bulls went patiently on during the night, the Tamil driver
chirruping “Jack” and “Pitta” to them (corresponding to our carters’
“Orve” and “Gee,”) which some cheerful English traveler is said to
have interpreted into the statement that the natives of Ceylon call
all their cattle either Jack or Peter; the stars shone bright--the
Milky Way innumerable. The road was bad, with occasional descents into
dry sandy torrent beds; jungle stretched all around (with here and
there, M. says, the remains of some town buried in undergrowth); but
we slept--M. slept, I slept, the driver slept, and occasionally even
the good little bulls slept. Once or twice we came thus to a total
stoppage, all sleeping, and then woke up at the unwonted quiet.
Just the first light of dawn, and a few strange bird-calls in the
bush; the great _ficus_ trees with their mighty buttresses stretching
white stems up into the yet ghostly light; ant-hills, conical and
spired, all along the road-side; tangles of creepers, and then, as the
sun rose, quantities of butterflies. I know nothing of butterflies, but
the kinds in this country are very various and beautiful. There is one
which is very common, about four inches across, black and white, with
body a bright red, and underwing spotted with the same colour--very
handsome; and one day, when taking a sun-bath in the woods, an immense
swallow-tail hovered round me, fully ten inches across from tip to tip
of wings.
Modder is a cheerful fellow, of Dutch descent probably, of about
thirty years of age, a proctor or solicitor for native cases, well
up in Cinghalese and Tamil, and full of antiquarian knowledge, yet
can troll a comic song nicely with a sweet voice. I find he is a
regular democrat, and hates the whole caste system in which he lives
embedded--thinks the U.S. must be “a glorious country.” He says he has
often talked to the Tamil and Cinghalese people about the folly of
caste. At first they can’t understand what he means--are completely at
a loss to imagine anything different, but after a time the idea seems
to take hold on them.
Found Devos at Dambulla--a fine clear-faced man of about thirty-three,
genuine, easy-going, carrying on a hospital in this slightly populated
district--just a large native village, no more--but the mails come
through this way, and a few English on their way to Anurádhapura,
and other places. Gangs of Tamil coolies also, from the mainland of
India, pass through Dambulla in going up country, and have to be
medically examined here, for fear of cholera, etc. Living with Devos
are two younger fellows, Percy Carron, who is also an Eurasian, and
a Cinghalese youth, both foresters--a small easy-going bachelors’
household, and all very chummy together. Thought they also treated
their Tamil “boy” John well--actually called him by his name, and did
not shout at him. These fellows all talk English among themselves,
in a close-lipped, rapid, rather neat way. The other two chaffed the
Cinghalese a good deal, who was of the usual sensitive clinging type.
In the afternoon we went up the rock to see the temples. A great rock,
500 or 600 feet high, similar to that at Kurunégala. Half-way up
stretches a broad ledge, 100 yards long, commanding a fine view over
hill and dale, and between this ledge and an overhanging layer of rock
above are niched five temples all in a row. No façade to speak of, mere
stucco walling, but within you pass into large caverns full of rude
statues. The largest of the temples is 150 feet long, 40 deep, and 23
high in front--a great dark space with perhaps fifty colossal images of
Buddha sitting round in the gloom with their sickly smile of Nirvana,
and one huge figure, 30 or 40 feet long, lying down in illumined sleep;
all crudely done, and painted bright yellows and reds, yet rather
impressive. The sides too and roof of the cavern are frescoed in the
same crude manner with stories from the life of Buddha, and with
figures of the Hindu gods. Withal, a fusty smell, a thousand years old,
of priests none too clean, of flaring oil-lamps, of withered flowers
and stale incense, oppressed us horribly, and it was the greatest
relief to get out again into the open. Devos says the scene is very
striking at the great festivals, when multitudinous pilgrims assemble
and offer their lights and their flowers and their money, on benches
each before the figure they affect. Tomtoms beat, worshipers recite
their prayers, lights twinkle, and outside the light of the full moon
pours down upon the rock. Monkeys native to the rock are fed on this
ledge in hundreds by the priests.
Ceylon is of course mainly Buddhist, and all over the hilly part of the
island rock-temples of this sort, though smaller, are scattered--some
mere shrines with a single seated or recumbent image of Buddha. They
are commonly built among the woods, under some overhanging brow of
rock, and the story generally runs that the cavern had in earlier times
been occupied by some hermit-saint, or _yogi_, and that the temple
was built in remembrance of him. There is a little one of this kind
half-way up the rock at Kurunégala, and it is tended by a boy priest of
about thirteen years of age, who, barehead and barefoot, but with his
yellow priest-robe wound gracefully about him, attends in a dignified
manner to the service of the shrine. He is generally followed by a
little attendant (every one has an attendant in the East)--a small boy
of about nine--who turns out to be his _khoki_, or cook! This sounds
luxurious, but by rule the Buddhist priests should live the most
abstemious lives. They are supposed to have no money or possessions
of their own, and to be entirely celibate. Each morning they go out
with their begging bowls on their arm to get their daily food. They
go to a house and stand near the door, asking nothing. Then presently
the woman comes out and puts a little rice in the bowl, and the priest
goes on to the next house. When he has got sufficient he returns, and
his attendant cooks the food (if not already cooked) and he eats it.
For each priest has the privilege to choose a boy or youth to be his
attendant, whom he trains up to the priesthood, and who takes his place
after him. This perhaps explains the presence of the small boy _khoki_
above.
The Buddhist priests, like the Hindu priests, are drawn mostly from
the comparatively uneducated masses, but there is no need in their
case that they should be Brahmans. A vast tolerance, and gentleness
towards all forms of life, characterises the Buddhist institutions; but
in the present day in Ceylon the institutions are decadent, and the
priests, with a few exceptions, are an ignorant and incapable set. The
efforts of Col. Olcott however, on behalf of the Theosophical Society,
and of Sumángala, the present high priest of the island, a man of
great learning and gentleness, have done something in latest years to
infuse a new spirit into the Buddhism of Ceylon and to rehabilitate its
esoteric side.
At Kandy in one of the Buddhist temples outside the town there is a
_standing_ figure of Buddha twenty-seven feet high, carved in the face
of the solid rock, and the temple built round it--rather fine--though
with the usual crude red and yellow paint. It belongs to the time
of the kings of Kandy, and is only about 150 years old. Many of the
ordinary cave-temples are extremely old, however--as old as Buddhism
in the island, 2,000 years or more--and likely were used for religious
purposes even before that.
After looking at the Dambulla temples, which are said to have been
constructed by the king Walagambahu about 100 B.C., we gained the
summit of the rock, whence you have a view over plains towards the
sea and of ranges of hills inland, not unlike that from the rock at
Kurunégala; and then descended, not without difficulty, the precipitous
side. Evening fell, and darkies came out with lamps to our aid.
The same night I pushed on by mail-coach to Anurádhapura, leaving
Modder behind, as he unfortunately had to return to Kurunégala the next
day.