Kandy is a place of more than ordinary interest in Ceylon, on account of its historical relations. It will be remembered that a native king reigned here as recently as 1814. The recklessness, cruelty, and grievous tyranny of this potentate hastened his downfall, causing his native subjects to join the English in effecting his overthrow. The government took forcible possession of the place in 1815, capturing the king and sending him to Bengal as a political prisoner, where he died seventeen years later. The systematic brutality of this ruler was exercised so lately that its detail is preserved, forming a horrible story of barbarous cruelty. One elephant was trained as an executioner, whose duty it was to tread to death any condemned political or other prisoner. Rich and poor, priest and soldier, are said to have rejoiced at the banishment of this tyrant.

When the Kandian kings died, their bodies were cremated with great ceremony. It was not the same here as it is and was in India proper, where all classes are cremated; only kings, nobles, and priests enjoyed the privilege in the island of Ceylon. Kandy is still the capital of the central province. All the efforts of the Portuguese and afterward of the Dutch to conquer this mountain region were unavailing, owing to its isolation and its inaccessibility. The town was situated in a valley, guarded by narrow mountain passes which a few determined men could effectually defend. The district was also girt about by tangled forests almost impassable except by birds, wild beasts, and reptiles, the latter being the chronic dread of the European invaders. Only foot or bridle paths existed between populous points along the coast in those days. There were no roads in any direction passable for wheeled vehicles during the possession of the island by the two nationalities spoken of.

The English, after conquering and fortifying the coast, promptly applied themselves to the opening of broad, well-engineered roads in all directions, and especially between Colombo and Kandy, so that bodies of infantry and artillery could quickly reach any desired point in efficient numbers. This changed the condition of affairs most essentially, enabling the new invaders to conquer and bring all parts of the island under military subjection. Since the capture of Kandy in 1815 there have been three rebellious uprisings of the natives, the last of which occurred in 1847, which the English officials stamped out with such rigor, not to say cruelty, that it has so far proved the last attempt of the sort. Lord Torrington, who was then governor of Ceylon, incurred the censure of the home government for the needless severity of the punishment inflicted upon the natives. The business of road-making between important points has been continued ever since, supplemented by many miles of railway, which has proved to be the most potent agent of progress which could be devised. Thus have been opened to free access rich agricultural and mineral districts, besides promoting intercourse between the natives of the island and the Europeans on the coast. Railways and good inland roads for wheeled vehicles are great promoters of true civilization and progress. Polygamy, which had so long defied the laws of these United States, was a doomed institution when the first iron rail reached the borders of Utah Territory.

The people of this ancient capital are no longer isolated; four hours' ride upon the rail takes them to Colombo.

The same class of natives are met with at Kandy as are seen on the coast, except that there are more shaven-headed priests in yellow robes, one end of which is thrown over the left shoulder, leaving the right arm and shoulder bare. The wearers are marked by a moody, unsatisfied expression. Aside from their office and connection with the temples, these men command no respect from the people, being generally illiterate and in no wise superior to the masses. They assume the appearance of mendicants in accordance with their religious profession, and are inveterate beggars, but are in fact, we were credibly informed, among the richest natives in Ceylon. They are supposed to live solely on charity, and receive no ostensible remuneration for their priestly services, but they are shrewdly hoarding money all the while like the veriest miser, while their social relations, like their Roman Catholic brethren, outrage unblushingly all priestly rules. There are fewer Parsees and Moormen in proportion to the number of inhabitants. These, being of the trading class, generally seek Colombo or Point de Galle, where they find congenial occupation in supplying strangers with sapphires, topazes, rubies, and precious stones, or oftener with imitations of these, in disposing of which they are notable experts. There is but one piece of advice to be given regarding these harpies,—avoid them altogether.

The principal object of interest in Kandy is the old palace and the far-famed ancient temple of Malagawa, where the precious tooth of Buddha is preserved, and yet it is not very ancient, as the word applies to temples and ruins generally in Ceylon. It was built in the fourteenth century, especially to form a shrine for this tooth, and it is held, mainly on this account, to be the most sacred Buddhist temple in existence. The palace, now partially improved for government purposes, was built just about three hundred years ago by the Portuguese prisoners captured by the Kandians, which accounts for certain European characteristics about the edifice. It was doubtless once an imposing structure, but of no architectural interest. It faces a broad, level area, where in olden times elephant fights used to take place for the entertainment of the king and his court,—a cruel sport, in which one of the combatants was sure to lose his life, and not infrequently both were fatally injured. The modern Spanish bull-fight is only a degree more cruel, and both exhibitions are equally indicative of the national character of the promoters.

The one residence worthy of mention in Kandy proper is the Pavilion or Governor's House, built by Sir E. Barnes. This is a very elegant modern structure, combining European architecture with tropical adaptations, and is surrounded by a broad colonnade. The house is finished externally in stucco, with a hard polish like white marble, which it much resembles. The neighboring grounds are very beautifully laid out, and are kept like an English park, the view from which is beyond description for its variety and beauty.

The Temple of the Tooth has no claim to architectural beauty. It belongs to no recognized order, and is an indescribable old shrine, low, black, and grimy, surmounted at its eastern extremity by a tower manifestly of European design, which is, doubtless, a comparatively modern addition. The whole looks more like a spacious stable than an oriental shrine. This temple has made Kandy the Mecca of both India and Ceylon, attracting great numbers of pilgrims annually. It is regarded with such universal reverence that the priests of Burmah and Siam send a personal envoy bearing gifts to it every year, besides furnishing a large sum annually as tribute money. A few years since, an earnest effort was made to gain possession of the alleged tooth, a special mission having been dispatched from Siam for the purpose. These agents came prepared to pay a quarter of a million dollars for the coveted prize; but the Kandian priests would not part with it at any price that could be named. The temple of Malagawa is a curious establishment, with its gardens, shrines, and fish ponds, the latter well-filled with plethoric turtles and fish of a "sacred" kind, which come eagerly to certain points at the call of the priests, to be fed by pious pilgrims.

The inner walls of the temple are decorated with designs that are anything but cheerful, consisting of paintings intended to depict the various sorts of hells which will be awarded to erring mortals for their special earthly sins. The place absolutely smells of brimstone. The interest of our little party centred most upon some old manuscript books written upon talipot palm leaves in the Pali, Sanskrit, and Singhalese languages. The pages were here and there illustrated with what appeared to be appropriate designs, very odd to be sure, but yet not without a certain crude artistic taste. The books were bound in silver open-work covers or frames.

The famous tooth which is made so much of in this mouldy old temple is far too large to have ever come from the mouth of a human being, and is probably that of some defunct elephant or crocodile. Indeed, the original article which it is supposed to represent is proved to have been destroyed centuries since, when by the fortune of war it fell into the hands of the unbelievers. The author did not see the tooth. It was described to him as being deposited in a small apartment upon a silver table beneath a bell-shaped cover, the latter heavy with precious gems. Here, lying within the leaves of a large golden lotus, is the resting-place of the much-venerated piece of ivory. The tooth, duly guarded and with great pomp, is carried about the town once a year, just as the Indian idol, Juggernaut, takes its annual airing from the lofty temple at Tanjore, drawn by hundreds of worshipers.

It is exhibited by the official priests, and only on special occasions, with tokens of profound reverence. It was shown to the Prince of Wales in 1875, and to his two sons in 1882. The author well remembers a personal experience in the crypt of a certain Roman Catholic Church in Italy, where he was being shown a collection of "sacred" relics, pieces of the "true cross," etc., together with a lot of "holy" vestments rendered heavy by pretended gems of great value wrought into the texture of the clothing.

"Do you," was asked of the attendant priest at the time, "who are so intelligent, believe in the genuineness of these pretended stones?"

"They have their use," was his evasive reply.

"You certainly know that these so-called emeralds, rubies, and sapphires, are of glass and worthless?" we continued.

The answer was a cool shrug of the shoulders and a hasty covering up of the garments. The author knew too much about gems to be easily deceived, and the priest had permitted him to scrutinize them more closely than was usual. The original gems, if real ones had ever been used, had been purloined by priestly connivance, and false stones supplied to fill their place.

A far more interesting and probably much more genuine relic than the tooth which is so reverently preserved in the Kandy temple is a rudely engraved metallic dish or "alms pot," which is said to have been the personal property of Buddha,—the receptacle for the coins contributed by the mass of the people in charity. The Singhalese priests of to-day carry a similar brass bowl for a like purpose, and are not at all backward in making their demands for contributions from strangers.

These Kandian priests of the yellow robe are low-bred and ignorant. We speak of them as a body. There are some brilliant exceptions, but as a rule they have few qualities calculated to command respect. Cleanliness with them is also one of the lost arts, notwithstanding the pretended multiplicity of their baths, while their ceaseless habit of chewing the repulsive betelnut and expectorating the red saliva in all directions is extremely disgusting, equaled only by the filthy habits of tobacco-chewers.

We have said that the mouldy old Buddhist Temple of the Tooth at Kandy was the most interesting and attractive object to all strangers, but there is also here a tree, if tradition is correct, so aged and sacred in the eyes of the people as to almost rival the temple in attractiveness. It is an ancient bo-tree,—the sacred Indian fig,—situated in the spacious grounds attached to the temple. It has widely extended, scraggy limbs, is high, irregular in form, and undoubtedly very old. It is as sincerely bowed down to by pilgrims from afar as is the altar in the temple. Its very leaves are treasured with devout care, and the pilgrim counts himself specially blessed who is able to bear one away to his distant home, as a charm against all earthly ills. No one will presume to pluck a leaf of this tree, much as they may crave its possession. The leaf must fall from the branches in its maturity, and of its own volition, in order to yield its maximum of blessings to the holder. Local authority declares the Kandy bo-tree to be the oldest one living. Its record, they say, has been kept since three hundred years before Christ, or say for two thousand two hundred years. As there is at least one other similar tree in Ceylon for which about the same degree of antiquity is claimed, it may reasonably be doubted if both stories are correct. The other tree is situated among the ruins of Anuradhapura, planted, as its record declares, two hundred and forty years before the Christian era. It is somewhat surprising how universally the extreme age which is claimed for this tree is credited even by the English residents of the island who are familiar with Buddhist chronicles. That both these trees are very old is plain enough, but when we designate time past by the thousands of years, one must be somewhat over-credulous to accord such great antiquity to either of them, or indeed to any object of a perishable nature. And yet there are trees belonging to the locust family, as the author can bear testimony, growing among the West India Islands, declared to be over three thousand years old. This is in part corroborated by well-known visible characteristics of the locust which are clearly defined, and many intelligent arborists credit their longevity. There are thousands of bo-trees planted all over India proper and Ceylon, in memory of Buddha, which are held of a sacred character, and no good Buddhist will cut one down. It will be remembered that Humboldt saw a cypress in Mexico, a league from the capital, in the Chapultepec grove, which he estimated to be six thousand years old. It does seem as though scientists were a somewhat credulous class.

Services and ceremonies of an appropriate character—that is, in accordance with the faith of this people—are constantly going on in and about the Temple of the Tooth, night and day, all the year round. Our hotel at Kandy was opposite and very near to the old shrine, and night was made hideous for us by the senseless howling of the priests and the notes of the drum, cymbals, and fife, supplemented now and again by the blowing of blasts upon a conch-shell, more shrill and piercing than a fishhorn signaling in a fog. The unearthly noises which issued from the open doors of the temple of Malagawa was something dreadful at midnight, and utterly inexcusable upon any pretense whatever.

"How can these priests and their assistants maintain sufficient interest to keep up this terrible din so ceaselessly?" was asked of a local planter.

"The funds of the temple are ample," was the reply. "There is a constant flow of rupees into the treasury, and these people are well paid for their services in keeping up the sham."

"Whence comes the money?" was asked.

"Large sums come from India and from visiting pilgrims, besides which the faithful native Singhalese contribute in the aggregate no inconsiderable amount."

"Credulous orientals," was our response.

"You must remember," was our companion's reply, "that this edifice and the surroundings, including the bo-tree, is considered the holiest spot in all the Buddhistic world."

The ceremonies which took place within the temple during a brief visit by the author consisted of grotesque dances and the beating of drums and blowing of horns, all without any apparent rhyme or reason. A procession of dirty priests, preceded by a drum and fife, passed hither and thither before an altar upon which incense was burning. No coherence of purpose, however, was exhibited by any one, but each person seemed to be trying to make all the noise and grotesque gesticulations possible. A North American Indian powwow would be a fair comparison to the performance which was witnessed on this occasion. A few pilgrims, after first pouring water upon their hands and feet, purchased flowers from venders who frequent the doors of the temple, and placed them on and about the altar. This was the most sensible and consistent procedure which was adopted by priest or layman inside the temple walls. The flowers were the white blossoms of the frangipani, whose fragrance was oppressively strong. It was a great relief to get outside of the moss-grown edifice, far away from the horrible din and the terribly offensive smell, which permeated not only the place, but one's clothing for hours afterwards.

There are seven other temples and chapels at Kandy, belonging to different denominations, besides two Buddhist ecclesiastical colleges. The Malwatta temple is worth a visit, it being the most important Buddhist monastery, where all the priests of the order in Ceylon, upon assuming the yellow robe which is their badge of office, come to formally utter their solemn vows. These bronzed priests, in saffron-colored, toga-like robes, followed by an attendant carrying a yellow silk umbrella, are rather striking figures in the thoroughfares of this inland town. In the time of the late king, no one but his imperial majesty and the priesthood were permitted to carry an umbrella, but men with no other covering from the sun but a cloth wound about the hips carry this article in our day, and derive much comfort from the shade it affords.

The less said about what these natives call music the better. Indeed, it would seem as though oriental music was invented only to torment European ears. Ivory horns, tom-toms, fifes, and the rudest sort of bass drums are the instruments most in use with the Singhalese, a few Chinese stringed contrivances being occasionally added, simply increasing the horror. The sounds of the latter instruments resemble most the cries of a pugnacious conclave of tomcats on the rampage at midnight. The query forcibly suggests itself in this connection, as to whether the instrumental music of western civilized people can possibly sound to these orientals so uncouth and so hideous as do their own performances to us.

In the porch of the Kandy temple and its immediate vicinity, just as one sees in and about the Roman Catholic churches of Europe, are groups of wretched-looking beggars, at all hours, most of whom, after the conventional style prevailing elsewhere, exhibit some physical deformity which is their stock in trade. Some of these endeavor to excite sympathy by thrusting self-inflicted wounds before the stranger's eyes,—wounds which are kept in a chronic condition of soreness by various irritating processes adopted for this purpose. One cannot but be impressed as much through the picturesqueness of the scene presented by the half-naked, ragged, cadaverous throng as by the sad moral which these poor creatures suggest. There are adroit and ingenious beggars all over the globe, and nowhere do they more abound than in the East; individuals amply able to care for themselves, but who prefer to exercise persistent industry and cannibalism, so to speak, in living upon their fellow-men. The same degree of assiduity practiced in legitimate business or useful occupation of almost any sort would insure ample and respectable support. Begging and painted distress are indigenous to all climes.

Who that has ever been in Paris does not remember an old woman, neatly but plainly dressed, who sits daily, rain or shine, at the corner of the Boulevard Capucine and the Place de l'OpÉra. She has sat there for years, and sits there still, with two wooden stumps in place of legs very conspicuously displayed. She does not speak to passers-by, nor does she ever solicit charity, but she accepts with grateful significance the silver and copper coins which are constantly dropped into her lap by a sympathetic public. The average man or woman who is able to be charitable is more or less practically so, and it is gratifying to indulge the creditable instinct. This woman of whom we have spoken had a daughter married not long since, on which occasion she received a dowry from her wooden-legged mamma of fifty thousand francs!

Let us not always be critical; if the object of our charity is really unworthy, then we have given our mite to humanity.

There is a very pleasant drive which the visitor to Kandy must not forget to enjoy. We refer to Hindo Galla, where a unique Buddhist rock-temple may be visited among a wilderness of boulders. There are a score of priests in charge, quite ready to act as cicerones to visitors. The available grounds about the temple are crowded with palms, tree-ferns, and flowers. There is also a fine old bo-tree dominating the place, which attracts the usual devotional attention of all true believers, and concerning the antiquity of which there is the usual amount of credulity.

About eight or nine miles from Kandy on the road towards Colombo, at the village of Angunawela, is an old Buddhist temple, which stands on the summit of an almost perpendicular rock. This edifice is in excellent preservation, and is a fine specimen of Kandian temple architecture. One is well paid for a visit to Angunawela and its local attractions.