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.