A Cabinet Secretary Remembers

Extracted from Memoirs of BP Peiris

My father, family and early days at Panadura

According to my birth certificate, I, the eldest son of my parents, was born on March 29, 1908, at our ancestral home “Gorakapola Walauwa”, Panadura.My father was Edmund Peiris, then a clerk in the Colombo Kachcheri on the princely salary of Rs. 60 a month. He used to travel from Panadura to Colombo by train, and from his home to the railway station on a push bicycle. He very early caught the eye of the Government Agent, Mr J. G. Frazer (later Sir John) who noted him for promotion on the ground of ability. My mother was Somie, the eldest daughter of C. F. S. Jayawickrama, Mudaliyar of the District Court of Kegalle.

I have no recollection at all of my paternal grandfather, Mudaliyar Romanis Peiris, Customs Mudaliyar, who died while I was quite young, nor of my paternal grandmother. A drinking fountain gifted by my grandfather to the state still stands in the premises of the Colombo Port Commission.In commemoration of the Diamond Jubilee of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, he built a school which he called the Queen Victoria Diamond Jubilee Buddhist School, which served the needs of many of the surrounding villages. My father was manager for many years and later gifted the land and the buildings to the state.

Of my maternal grandparents I have vivid memories. My grandfather Jayawickrama, whose picture used to hang in my father’s house, was a man of honesty, integrity and strength of character. His face in the picture at home showed determination, independence and a strong will. He was not a man to bend his knee to any person, however high he might be. He had, I believe, 16 children, to all of whom he gave an excellent education.

His eldest son was Sylvester, Advocate, a very respected member of the Matara Bar, who died in 1940 at the age of 54 at a time when he was District Judge of that town. On the day of his funeral all the shops in the town were closed as a mark of respect. The second child was my mother. Another of his daughters came first in French in the Cambridge Senior in the whole of the British Empire and, after her marriage taught her brother (later Jayawickrama Q. C.) French to enable him to pass the London Inter-Arts Examination. Another son was “Sargo” of cricketing fame.

My grandfather Jayawickrama dressed, as all Mudaliyars did in those days, in trousers, cloth and coat, with a sort of a Dutch helmet on his head, used to visit periodically his married son and his daughters all the way from Panadura to Matara and Tangalle. He was a keen chess player and always carried a traveling board with him, the board having suitable holes and the pieces were pegs to fit them. The pieces were of ivory and ebony.

He was a man who worked to time; he would start a game with my mother at 7.00 p.m. and play till 8.00 p.m., having a chew of betel and a cigar during the game. At 8.00 he would close the board to dine, and continue the same game from day to day till its end. I have in vain attempted to trace that chess set. My brother and I used to watch him play with my mother and we soon, at the age of about seven, picked up the game.

On one of our return trips by train from Diyatalawa to Colombo, the old gentleman was kind enough to come to Polgahawela to meet his daughter (my mother) and his grandchildren. The next day he was dead of a heart attack. His body was brought from Kegalle to my father’s house and the cremation took place at Panadura.

He was the Jayawickrama referred to in the leading Privy Council case of Jayawickrama vs Amarasuriya (1918), which he won. He had lost the case in the District Court and the Supreme Court but had faith in justice. Before appealing to the Privy Council, he had told his children to be prepared to step on to the street and beg if he lost the final appeal.

The case was instituted by my grandmother against her brother who had benefited largely by his father’s death. There was no doubt, on the evidence, that it was his father’s wish that he should provide for his sister and her large family. The sister had threatened to institute an action against him for the assignment to her of an undivided half-share of the inheritance and he had promised to pay her Rs150,000 if she refrained from instituting the contemplated action.

The decisions of the Ceylon courts were based on the concept of “Consideration” in English law. The Privy Council applied the Roman-Dutch law concept of justa causa which was wider. They held that the brother’s promise was binding and enforceable as it was made deliberately after much negotiation, in discharge of the moral obligation found to rest upon the brother to do an act of generosity and benevolence to his sister, namely, to make provision for her and her children. The Privy Council allowed the appeal with costs in all courts.

I remember my grandmother as a most simple and kindly woman, dressed not in saree, but in skirt and jacket. She also used to visit her children regularly, and once, when I was about seven years old, my mother sent me with her by train and bus to Kegalle where my grandparents were then living. From the Polgahawela railway station, the journey was completed by bus.

For my parents I have nothing but praise for the education they gave us, which has enabled my brothers and sisters and me to hold responsible positions in life. My father was a Royalist, that is to say, an old boy of the Royal College, then situated at San Sebastian. His contemporaries were B. F. de Silva, O. L. De Kretser, T. F. Garvin, V. M. Fernando, R. L. Pereira, F. H. B. Koch, all of whom rose to the Bench.

My father, later when he was Mudaliyar of the Panadura and Kalutara Totamunes, used to tell us that he rarely used the school library while the others did, and he encouraged us and insisted that we use the library as much as possible, advice by which all his sons have profited.

He was at school in the days of Hayward and Hartley and was one who received the well-known caning for taking as their right a holiday on the Royal-Thomian match day. I remember an incident years later, after he had married and had five children and the family was having a holiday at Diyatalawa, when we crossed Hartley during our morning walk. My father raised his hat and said “Good morning, Sir”. Hartley returned the greeting and said, “Let me see -Royal? Yes, I remember. Left from the Remove.” It was a marvelous memory.

Even as a student father appeared to have been very methodical. He was a boarder at the house of (later Sir) James Pieris’ mother and kept a small notebook of his daily expenditure. I remember seeing this notebook, one item in which was “tiffin 11 cents”. He was as methodical up to the day of his death when we found a document telling us exactly what we should do – where his last will was, how he should be dressed, who his pallbearers should be, a list of his assets, a valuation of his property etc., with the result that I, as his executor, had no difficulty in answering any query from the Estate Duty Department.

The printed invitation cards sent by my mother’s parents on the occasion of her wedding, a copy of which is in my possession, show that the wedding took place at 11 a.m. on Thursday, June 28, 1906, at Amaragiri Walauwa, Unawatuna, Galle, the residence of Mr Thomas Amarasuriya. The wedding photograph shows the groom and his best man, Advocate B. F. de Silva, in morning suits. A newspaper account of the wedding states that “instead of the usual cake and wine the whole assembly sat down to a sumptuous lunch when the health of the newly wedded couple was pledged.”

In 1908 my father was appointed Muhandiram of the Colombo Kachcheri. In 1913 the post of Mudaliyar of the Panadura and Kalutara Totamunes having fallen vacant, he applied for the post. In the final selection, he told us that three applicants Mr A, Mr B and he were summoned for an interview. The interview was by the Colonial Secretary. Each candidate was asked what he thought of the other two.

Mr A and Mr B had apparently nothing very pleasant or creditable to say about the others. My father, when asked the same question, had said that he had nothing to say against the other candidates but had come to speak about himself. The Colonial Secretary’s concise minute to the Governor was, I learned, something on the following lines:

Your Excellency,

I have interviewed the three candidates. Mr A is an extremely able man, painfully conscious of his ability. Mr B is another clever man almost bordering on insanity. I recommend Mr Peiris.His Excellency minuted “Approved” and my father was appointed – the youngest man to be appointed Mudaliyar of the second most important revenue district of the island, second only to Colombo.

Congratulatory meetings on his appointment were held in different parts of the District sponsored by such gentlemen of quality as Gate Mudaliyar J. E. de Silva Suriyabandara (Magistrate of Kalutara), O. G. de Alwis, Clement Wijeratne, M. H. Jayatillake, H. Meritimus Fonseka, C. P. Samarasekera and M. E. Fonseka.

He held the office for over 25 years and was honoured with the titular rank of Mudaliyar and later of Mudaliyar of The Governor’s Gate. His district extended from the Moratuwa bridge in the north to the Bentota bridge in the south. He got to know the district and people so thoroughly that in his later years he was able to write a report from his office without inspecting the scene as he appeared to know every tree and culvert in the area.

His reports to the British Assistant Government Agent were always forwarded by them to the Government Agent with the endorsement “I forward herewith a report from the Mudaliyar, with which I agree.” Some Ceylonese Assistant Government Agents used to forward my father’s reports with his name deleted and the Assistant Government Agent’s name placed at the end in substitution.

Father had a rather peculiar habit of not getting permission to leave his station when he came from Panadura to Colombo. He always took leave when he had to go south beyond the Bentota Bridge. One day, a most amusing incident took place on the Galle Road at Ratmalana. Father had come to Colombo without leave and was returning home when he found the Assistant Government Agent’s car broken down on the way. He stopped his car and the two drivers between them got the car in order again.

The Assistant Government Agent thanked the driver and then asked my father, “Mudaliyar, aren’t you out of your station without leave?” Let me say here, in an age when the foreign British civil servant is being constantly vilified, that the officer concerned in this particular case was a Ceylonese. Father replied that in 20 odd years he had never asked for leave to come from Panadura to Colombo. His superior told him that in future he had better take leave before leaving his district in either direction, and father took that as an order.

Soon after that some affray had taken place within his district in the vicinity of the Moratuwa bridge and father was asked by the Assistant Government Agent to go personally to the spot, inquire and report. He went and held the inquiry but found that to complete proceedings he had to cross the bridge and, under the previous order, had no authority to do so without prior permission. He wired accordingly, and the order regarding prior permission to leave station was promptly withdrawn.

Father was a good host: he believed in entertaining well or not at all. Although a moderate drinker himself, he had ample liquor for his guests and a good table. If you invite people, he used to say, treat them well. If you cannot afford to treat them well, don’t invite them. He used to tell us that when we grew up, we should never get into debt and put ourselves in a position to allow the tailor to say “There goes my suit”.

He regularly took leave for the whole of April each year and took the entire family up-country. As we could not afford to rent a bungalow, he arranged through a friend of his in the railway that we occupy the bungalow of a bachelor station master who would be father’s guest during our stay. The arrangement worked extremely well. And so it was that we spent delightful holidays at Ohiya, Pattipola, Haputale, Diyatalawa and other upcountry stations.

Some of these stations were, at that time, also sub-post offices and it was, in one of these stations that, as a schoolboy, I picked up the Morse Code. I am still able to send a message in Morse but, unfortunately, I never was able to get my ear attuned to receiving one. For a holiday at Diyatalawa, the Brigadier placed a military hut at our disposal and we had a grand time with the soldiers, whom father entertained.

They were nervous about eating tomato sandwiches thinking it was red pepper.At home, Father was a strict disciplinarian. Dinner was a simple meal, within his means. It was punctually at 8 p.m. At 7. 30 p.m., whether there were visitors or not, he had his first drink. At 7. 45 p.m. his second, and then dinner. Should one of us brats come to table with hands unwashed or hair uncombed, he would be driven away from the table and not taken back until he had put himself in good condition.

At that time, a Chief Headman wielded great authority in his district, and I distinctly remember that every funeral procession and perahera stopped beating the drums whilst passing the Walauwa. I feel quite sure that the Headmen’s system was abolished by the State Council because the Councillors were jealous of the power and authority exercised by the Headmen in their districts. Today, this is replaced by a transferable Divisional Revenue Officers’ Service – able men no doubt, but men without any local prestige who do not know the district in the way my father knew his.

My father retired on the first of April 1940, after having served the Government for over 40 years. He had held the office of Mudaliyar of the Panadura and Kalutara Totamunes for 27 years and filled a large place in the official and social life of the district. On his retirement, the public accorded him a farewell dinner at the Panadura Town Hall, the largest gathering ever seen at a public dinner in the town.

Tributes to him as a man and as a public servant were paid by the speakers, and covers were laid for 183. Mr (later Sir) Susantha de Fonseka presided. Among the diners were Mr and Mrs D. S. Senanayake, Mr W. O. Stevens, Government Agent of the Western Province, and Mr P. J. Hudson, Assistant Government Agent. The Urban Council moved a vote of appreciation. His portrait in oils was unveiled at the Kalutara Kachcheri.

My father died, after a very short illness, on the first of February 1961, at the age of 81. His Excellency the Governor-General, Sir Oliver Goonetileke called at the house to pay his last respects. The following appreciation appeared in the press:

“The death yesterday of Gate Mudaliyar Edmund Peiris, at the ripe age of 81, has removed a landmark from Panadura Town. Since his retirement after 42 years of active service ending up as Mudaliyar of the Panadura and Kalutara Totamunes, which post he held for 27 years, he was always at the service of his fellow citizens and participated in many public activities in the town where he resided.

“Whatever service he performed, whether it was for the town, home for the aged, or personally looking after the urgent needs of the poor who called on him for help, or mediation, he performed his part with a great deal of method, never haphazardly.

“Method in fact was the guiding principle of his life. Even at death it was a matter for wonder to those whom he left to read his detailed and precise instructions as to the manner in which his funeral was to be conducted. He had even got prepared his own tombstone inscription leaving blank only the date of death. Few think of death while they are alive. Mudaliyar Peiris was one of the few, and it may be that because he was conscious that death comes to every man sometime or other that he was always ready to forgive and forget. That also is one of the rich legacies which he has left behind not only to the large band of sons and daughters and grandchildren but to those who enjoyed and valued his friendship.

“Till his last illness struck him down, age did not mar his zest for living and many of his friends both admired and envied the short dapper Mudaliyar out on the road ‘doing his constitutional’.

Many civic activities of the town of Panadura will be the poorer by Mudaliyar Peiris’ death, but the organization which would suffer most would be the King George V Silver Jubilee Home for the Aged which he dearly loved and cared for during the last few years of his life.

“Another act of the Mudaliyar is worthy of record. He was the owner of a school built by his father, Mudaliyar Romanis Peiris, who had named it the Queen Victoria Diamond Jubilee Buddhist School. Some years ago, Mudaliyar Peiris handed over the land and the school buildings to the State, so doing what a subsequent Government of the country was to decide to do as a matter of Government policy. Not many are now spared to live to the age of 81.

“The Mudaliyar has made the most of these many years he lived not for self alone (though he must have been a happy man to see his sons in good positions and his daughters well-married) but for others as well.”