Volume 1 / Part 4 — CHAP. X.

SINGHALESE LITERATURE.

The literature of the ancient Singhalese derived its character from the hierarchic ascendency, which was fostered by their government, and exerted a preponderant influence over the temperament of the people. The Buddhist priesthood were the depositories of all learning and the dispensers of all knowledge:—by the obligation of their order the study of the classical Pali[1] was rendered compulsory upon them[2], and the books which have come down to us show that they were at the same time familiar with Sanskrit. They were employed by royal command in compiling the national annals[3], and kings at various periods not only encouraged their labours by endowments of lands[4], but conferred distinction on such pursuits by devoting their own attention to the cultivation of poetry[5], and the formation of libraries.[6]

The books of the Singhalese are formed to-day, as they have been for ages past, of olas or strips taken from the young leaves of the Talipat or the Palmyra palm, cut before they have acquired the dark shade and strong texture which belong to the full grown frond.[1] After undergoing a process (one stage of which consists in steeping them in hot water and sometimes in milk) to preserve their flexibility, they are submitted to pressure to render their surface uniformly smooth. They are then cut into stripes of two or three inches in breadth, and from one to three feet long. These are pierced with two holes, one near each end, through which a cord is passed, so as to secure them between two wooden covers, lacquered and ornamented with coloured devices. The leaves thus strung together and secured, form a book.

WRITING WITH A STILE.

On these palm-leaves the custom is to write with an iron stile held nearly upright, and steadied by a nick cut to receive it in the thumb-nail of the left hand. The stile is sometimes richly ornamented, shaped like an arrow, and inlaid with gold, one blade of the feather serving as a knife to trim the leaf preparatory to writing. The case is sometimes made of carved ivory bound with hoops of filigreed silver.

The furrow made by the pressure of the steel is rendered visible by the application of charcoal ground with a fragrant oil[1], to the odour of which the natives ascribe the remarkable state of preservation in which their most sacred books are found, its aromatic properties securing the leaves from destruction by white ants and other insects.[2]

The wiharas and monasteries of the Buddhist priesthood are the only depositaries in Ceylon of the national literature, and in these are to be found quantities of ola books on an infinity of subjects, some of them, especially those relating to religion and ecclesiastical history, being of the remotest antiquity.

Works of the latter class are chiefly written in Pali. Treatises on astronomy, mathematics, and physics are almost exclusively in Sanskrit, whilst those on general literature, being comparatively recent, are composed in Elu, a dialect which differs from the colloquial Singhalese rather in style than in structure, having been liberally enriched by incorporation from Sanskrit and Pali.[1] But of the works which have come down to us, ancient as well as modern, so great is the preponderance of those in Pali and Sanskrit, that the Singhalese can scarcely be said to possess a literature in their national dialect; and in the books they do possess, so utter is the dearth of invention or originality, that almost all which are not either ballads or compilations, are translations from one or other of the two learned languages.

I. PALI.—Works in Pali are written, like those of Burmah and Siam, not in Nagari or any peculiar character, but in the vernacular alphabet. Of these, as might naturally be expected, the vast majority are on subjects connected with Buddhism, and next to them in point of number are grammars and grammatical commentaries.

The original of the great Pali grammar of Kachchayano is now lost, but its principles survive in numerous treatises, and text-books written at succeeding periods to replace it.[1] Such is the passion for versification, probably as an assistant to memory, that nearly every Singhalese work, ancient as well as modern, is composed in rhyme, and even the repulsive abstractions of Syntax have found an Alvarez and been enveloped in metrical disguise.

Of the sacred writings in Pali, the most renowned are the Pitakattayan, literally "The Three Baskets," which embody the doctrines, discourses, and discipline of the Buddhists, and so voluminous is this collection that its contents extend to 592,000 stanzas; and the Atthakatha or commentaries, which are as old as the fifth century[1], contain 361,550 more. From their voluminousness, the Pittakas are seldom to be seen complete, but there are few of the superior temples in which one or more of the separate books may not be found.

The most popular portion of the Pittakas are the legendary tales, which profess to have been related by GOTAMO BUDDHA himself, in his Sutras or discourses, and were collected under the title of Pansiya-panas-jataka-pota, or the "Five hundred and fifty Births." The series is designed to commemorate events in his own career, during the states of existence through which he passed preparatory to his reception of the Buddhahood. In structure and contents it bears a striking resemblance to the Jewish Talmud, combining, with aphorisms and maxims, philological explanations of the divine text, stories illustrative of its doctrines, into which not only saints and heroes, but also animals and inanimate objects, are introduced, and not a few of the fables that pass as Æsop's are to be found in the Jatakas of Ceylon. There are translations into Singhalese of the greater part of its contents, and so attractive are its narratives that the natives will listen the livelong night to recitations from its pages.[1]

The other Pali works[1] embrace subjects in connection with cosmography and the Buddhist theories of the universe; the distinctions of caste, topographical narratives, a few disquisitions on medicine, and books which, like the Milindaprasna, or "Questions of Milinda,"[2] without being canonical give an orthodox summary of the national religion.

But the chefs d'oeuvre of Pali literature are their chronicles, the Dipawanso, Mahawanso, and others; of these the most important by far is the Mahawanso and its tikas or commentaries. It stands at the head of the historical literature of the East; unrivalled by anything extant in Hindustan[1], the wildness of whose chronology it controls; and unsurpassed, if it be equalled, by the native annals of China or Kashmir. So conscious were the Singhalese kings of the value of this national monument, that its continuation was an object of royal solicitude to successive dynasties[2] from the third to the thirteenth century; and even in the decay of the monarchy the compilation was performed in A.D. 1696, by an unknown hand, and, finally, brought down to A.D. 1758 by order of one of the last of the Kandyan kings.

Of the chronicles thus carefully constructed, which exhibit in their marvellously preserved leaves the study and elaboration of upwards of twelve hundred years, PRINSEP, supreme as an authority, declared that they served to "clear away the chief of difficulties in Indian genealogies, which seem to have been intentionally falsified by the Brahmans and thrown back into remote antiquity, in order to confound their Buddhist rivals."[1]

But they display in their mysterious rhymes few facts or revelations to repay the ordinary reader for the labour of their perusal. Written exclusively by the Buddhist priesthood, they present the meagre characteristics of the soulless system which it is their purpose to extol. No occurrence finds a record in their pages which does not tend to exalt the genius of Buddhism or commemorate the acts of its patrons: the reigns of the monarchs who erected temples for its worship, or consecrated shrines for its relics, are traced with tiresome precision; even where their accession was achieved by usurpation and murder, their lives are extolled for piety, provided they were characterised by liberality to the church; whilst those alone are stigmatised as impious and consigned to long continued torments, whose reigns are undistinguished by acts conducive to the exaltation of the national worship.[1]

The invasions which disturbed the tranquillity of the throne, and the schisms which rent the unity of the church, are described with painful elaboration; but we search in vain for any instructive notices of the people or of their pursuits, for any details of their social condition or illustration of their intellectual progress. Whilst the commerce of all nations was sweeping along the shores of Ceylon, and the ships of China and Arabia were making its ports their emporiums; the national chronicles, whose compilation was an object of solicitude to successive dynasties, are silent regarding these adventurous expeditions; and utterly indifferent to all that did not affect the progress of Buddhism or minister to the interests of the priesthood.[1]

II. SANSKRIT.—In Sanskrit or translations from it, the Singhalese have preserved their principal treatises on physical science, cosmography, materia medica, and surgery. From it, too, they have borrowed the limited knowledge of astronomy, possessed by the individuals who combined with astrology and the casting of nativities, the practice of palmistry and the interpretation of dreams. In Sanskrit, they have treatises on music and painting, on versification and philology; and their translations include a Singhalese version of those portions of the Ramayana, which commemorate the conquest of Lanka.

III. ELU AND SINGHALESE.—There is no more striking evidence of the intellectual inferiority of the modern, as compared with the ancient inhabitants of Ceylon, than is afforded by the popular literature of the latter, and the contrast it presents to the works of former ages. Descending from the gravity of religious disquisition and the dignity of history and science, the authors of later times have been content to limit their efforts to works of fiction and amusement, and to ballads and doggerel descriptions of places or passing events.

But, to the credit of the Singhalese, it must be said, that in their compositions, however satirical or familiar they may be, their verses are entirely free from the licentiousness which disfigures similar productions in India; and that if deficient in imagination and grace, they are equally exempt from grossness and indelicacy.

The Singhalese language is so flexible that it admits of every description of rhythm; of this the versifiers have availed themselves to exhibit every variety of stanza and measure, and every native, male or female, can recite numbers of their favourite ballads. Their graver productions consist of poems in honour, not of Buddha alone, but of deities taken from the Hindu Pantheon,—Patine, Siva, and Ganesa, panegyrics upon almsgiving, and couplets embodying aphorisms and morals.

A considerable number of the Sutras or Discourses of Buddha have been translated into the vernacular from Pali, but the most popular of all are the jatakas, the Singhalese versions of which are so extended, that one copy alone fills 2000 olas or palm leaves, each twenty-nine inches in length and containing nine lines in a page.

The other works in Singhalese are on subjects connected with history, such as the Rajavali and Rajaratnacai, on grammar and lexicography, on medicine, topography, and other analogous subjects. But in all their productions, though invested with the trappings of verse, there alike is an avoidance of what is practical and true, and an absence of all that is inventive and poetic. They contain nothing that appeals to the heart or the affections, and their efforts of imagination aspire not to please or to elevate, but to astonish and bewilder by exaggeration and fable. Their poverty of resources leads to endless repetitious of the same epithets and incidents; books are multiplied at the present day chiefly by extracts from works of established popularity, and the number of qualified writers is becoming annually less from the altered circumstances of the island and the decline of those institutions and prospects which formerly stimulated the ambition of the Buddhist priesthood, and inspired a love of study and learning.