This absence of outrage, agrarian or otherwise, speaks trumpet-tongued for the morality of the Burmese, their respect for religious observance, and the teachings of their priests. Such wholesale acts of murder as Thuggee and infanticide found no place in their ethics; nor does the senseless practice of Suttee seem ever to have occurred to them.
In many respects, therefore, the teachings of Buddha transcend Hinduism in no measured degree, being both more elevated and more practical, exalting instead of debasing the minds of those who profess them. So ingrained had become those evil practices in India that it took years of most stringent legislation to grapple with the hydra-headed monsters, Heredity and Fanaticism. Now, however, bands of organized Thugs are almost unknown; a Suttee will only occur rarely in some remote district, and infanticide will soon be a matter of history and tradition.
There are, however, Buddhists and Buddhists. Of all the nations embracing this religion the Chinese and Nepaulese seem most unmindful of its teachings, whilst in Thibet and Burmah the flame burned brighter than elsewhere. The Nepaulese, as I saw them for months together during the Mutiny—I allude to the men sent down by Jung Bahadur when the Mutiny was at its height—were a set of bloodthirsty savages, pig-headed and untrustworthy, brave indeed, as a pariah-dog might be when driven into a corner—a rabble which but for the energy and judgment of the English officers in command would at once have dissolved into thin air. They were quite free from any kind of principle, and had no idea of true religion; while the Bhootanese were if anything still lower in the scale.
Buddha enjoined on his followers to avoid abusive and indecent language, to become peace-makers, to endure privation, and show resignation in the face of calamity. Underlying the Burmese character, one could, as a rule, trace the influence of these teachings in their treatment of one another, more than in many a country professing a religion that points to a happier future. If faith and good works, irrespective of the medium, are capable of earning peace and happiness hereafter, then do the disciples of the “Contemplative One,” who thought out and purified their religion, enjoy a brighter prospect than most other nations.
The doctrine of “Complete Nirvana” is, to our belief, the fatal blot, but it is at least preferable to the hereafter of the Mohammedan, where, under the auspices of a Supreme Being, the carnal appetites are only intensified.
The absence of that deadliest of all poisons, fanaticism, and the broad, modest respect which refuses to brand as heretical and damnable every other form of belief, also combine to lend a charm to Buddhism which one seeks in vain in many other religions; and the moral precepts scattered promiscuously throughout the Koran, and admirable so far as they go, are terribly neutralized by an unforgiving and intolerant spirit, that is ever breathing forth enmity in place of concord.
It is my belief that our missionaries will meet with greater success in the fair land watered by the Irrawaddy than along the banks of the mighty Ganges, where a century’s labour has made but little lasting impression.
Nor is the failure surprising, when we consider our want of uniformity.
The Tabernacle of the Old Testament, appealing to the senses rather than to the intellect, made but little impression on the surrounding Gentiles, who proved far more susceptible to the simplicity inculcated in the New. And what wonder that the Asiatic sees nought but chaos in our Church, when we ourselves hear each clergyman interpreting the rubric according to his own views! When all are at loggerheads in ecclesiastical litigation, every variety of Church—high, low, broad, narrow, deep, shallow—which the mind of man can conceive, how is the missionary to succeed?