Central Ceylon. Making roof-tiles. The sun is the only kiln
Central Ceylon. Making roof-tiles. The sun is the only kiln
Central Ceylon. Making roof-tiles. The sun is the only kiln
The priests of the “Temple of the Tooth” in Kandy, who were my guides during my stay in the city
The priests of the “Temple of the Tooth” in Kandy, who were my guides during my stay in the city
The priests of the “Temple of the Tooth” in Kandy, who were my guides during my stay in the city
The high priest followed us into the outer temple. During all the evening he had addressed me only through an interpreter. As I paused to pick up my slippers, however, he salaamed gravely and spoke once more, this time, to my utter amazement, in faultless English.
“White men,” ran his speech, “often join the true religion. There are many who are priests of Buddha in Burma, and some in Ceylon. They are much honored.”
“You see,” explained the son of the innkeeper, as we wended our way through the silent bazaars, “he did not wish that you should at first know that he speaks English. He has done you great honor by asking you to become a priest; for so he meant. But often come white men to the temple and mock all that is brought to see, making, many times, very cruel jokes, and he who is close to Buddha waited to see. You have not done so. Therefore are you honored.”
We mounted to the second story of the inn and, stripped naked, lay down on ourcharpoys—native beds consisting of a strip of canvas stretched on a frame. But it was long before I fell asleep; for the youth, seeing it his clear duty, harangued me long and ungrammatically from the neighboring darkness on the virtues of the “true religion.”
Somehow the impression gained ground rapidly among the residents of Kandy that the white man who had attended the Sunday evening service contemplated joining the yellow-robed ascetics at the Temple of the Tooth. Just where the rumor had its birth I know not. Belike the mere fact that I had turned none of the rites to jest had won me favor. Or was it that my garb marked me as one more likely to attain Nirvana than the bestarched Europeans whose levity so grieved him who was “close to Buddha”?
At any rate, the rumor grew like the cornstalk in Kansas. With the morning sun came pious shopkeepers to fawn upon me. Before I had breakfasted, two temple priests, their newly-shaven heads and faces shining under their brightly-colored parasols like polished brass, called at the inn and invited me to a stroll through the market place. Never an excursion did I make in Kandy or its environs without at least a pair of saffron-garbed companions. That I should find a ready welcome in the temple a hundred natives assured me, the priests by veiled hints, the laymen more openly. They were moved, perhaps, bya no more altruistic motive than a desire to have on exhibition in the local monastery a white priest. But to their credit be it said that no suggestion of a material inducement crept into their arguments.
“Buddhism,” ran their plea, “is the true religion. The mere fact that it has many more followers than any other religion proves that, does it not? And the doctrine of the Enlightened One embraces every anomaly of humanity—even white men. Only those who accept it can hope for future happiness. Even if you are not yet convinced of its truth, why not accept it now and run no risk of future perdition?”
Surely, the most conscientious of Christian missionaries never attempted proselytism less underhandedly.
My escape from Kandy savored of strategy, but I reached the station unchallenged, and, exchanging my last two rupees for a ticket to Colombo, established myself in a third-class compartment. It was already occupied by a native couple more gifted with offspring than attire. Barely had I settled down to study Singhalese domestic life at close range, however, when a mighty uproar burst out near at hand. A half-breed in the uniform of a guard raced across the platform, and, thrusting his head into the compartment, poured forth on my apparently unoffending companions a torrent of incomprehensible words. Had he denounced me as a victim of the plague? Plainly the family was greatly frightened. The father sprang wildly to his feet and attempted to clutch a half-dozen unwieldy bundles in a painfully inadequate number of hands. The wife, no less terrified, raked together from floor and benches as many naked urchins, in assorted sizes, but entangled, in her haste, the legs of her lord and master, and sent him sprawling among his howling descendants. With a sizzling oath, the trainman snatched open the door and, springing inside, tumbled baggage, infants, and parents unceremoniously out upon the platform. Still bellowing, he drove the trembling wretches to another compartment; a party of well-dressed natives took possession of the recently vacated benches; and we were off.
That self-congratulatory attitude common to traveling salesmen the world over betrayed the caste of my new companions. All of them spoke English, and, eager to air their accomplishments, lost no time in engaging me in conversation. Marvelous was the information and the variations of my mother tongue that assailed me from all sides. It is with difficulty that one refrains from “stuffing” these vainglorious, yet childish fellows and it was evident that some other Europeanhad already yielded to the temptation. But my astonishment at the treatment of the exiled family had by no means subsided.
“Will some of you chaps tell me,” I interrupted, “why the guard ordered those other natives out of here, and then let you in?”
The drummers glared at me a moment in silence, looked at each other, and turned to stare out of the windows. Most grossly, evidently, had I insulted them. But even an insult cannot keep an Oriental long silent. The travelers fidgeted in their seats, nudged each other, and focused their stare once more upon me.
“Know you, sir,” said the most portly of the group, with severe countenance, “know you that those were base coolies, who are not allowed to ride in the same compartment with white gentlemen. We,” and the brass buttons of his embroidered jacket struggled to perform their office, “are high-caste Singhalese, sir. Therefore may we ride with sahibs.”