The Buddhists have three months of the year, from the full moon of July to the full moon of October, particularly devoted to a stricter observance of the practices and ceremonies of the law. Crowds of people of both sexes resort to the pagodas, and often spend whole nights in the buildings erected close to those places. The most fervent among them fast and abstain from profane amusements during that period; they devote more time to the reading of their sacred books and the repetition of certain formulas calculated to remind them of certain important truths, or intended to praise the last Buddha Gaudama and the law he has published. Alms pour more abundantly into the peaceable dwellings of the pious recluses. During all the time the Talapoin quietly remains in his place, without altering his mode of life, or deviating in the least from his never-changing usages and ordinary habits. By the rules of his profession he is directed to pay, during that time, a particular regard to religious observances, to join his brethren from time to time in the recital of certain formulas, and in the reading of the book embodying the regulations of the profession. He enjoys, as usual, the good things which his liberal co-religionists take pleasure in proffering to him. On two occasions the writer has seen, and on many has heard of Talapoins withdrawing during the three months of Lent to some lonely place, living alone in small huts, shunning the company of men, and leading an eremitical life, to remain at liberty to devote all their time to meditations on the most excellent points of the law of Buddha, combating their passions, and enjoying in that retired situation a foretaste of the never-troubled rest of Neibban.
In many respects the Talapoinic institutions may be likened to those of some religious orders that appeared successively in almost every Christian country previous to the era of the Reformation, and that are, up to this day, to be met with amidst the Churches of the Latin and Greek rites. Like the monk, the Talapoin bids a farewell to the world, wears a particular dress, leads a life of community, abstracts himself from all that gives strength to his passions, by embracing a state of voluntary poverty and absolute renunciation of all sensual gratifications. He aims at obtaining, by a stricter observance of the law’s most sublime precepts, an uncommon degree of sanctity and perfection. All his time is regulated by the rules of his profession, and devoted to repeating certain formulas of prayers, reading the sacred scriptures, begging alms for his support, &c.
These features of exterior resemblance, common to institutions of creeds so opposite to each other, have induced several writers, little favourable to Christianity, to pronounce without further inquiry that Catholicism has borrowed from Buddhism many ceremonies, institutions, and disciplinary regulations. Some of them have gone so far as to pretend to find in it the very origin of Christianity. They have, however, been ably confuted by Abel Remusat, in his Memoir entitled “Chronological Researches into the Lamaic Hierarchy of Thibet.” Without entertaining in the least the presumptuous idea of entering into a controversy entirely foreign to his purpose, the writer will confine himself to making one or two remarks calculated to show that the first conclusion is, to say the least of it, a premature one. When in two religious creeds, entirely opposed to each other in their ultimate object, there are several minor objects equally set forth by both, it will necessarily happen that, in many instances, means nearly similar will be prescribed on both sides for effectually obtaining them, independent of any previously concerted plan or imitation. The Christian system and the Buddhistic one, though differing from each other in their respective objects and ends, as much as truth from error, have, it must be confessed, many striking features of an astonishing resemblance. There are many moral precepts equally commanded and enforced in common by both creeds. It will not be deemed rash to assert that most of the moral truths prescribed by the Gospel are to be met with in the Buddhistic scriptures. The essential, vital, and capital discrepancy lies in the difference of the ends to which the two creeds lead, but not in the variance of the means they prescribe for the attainment of them. The Gospel tends to reunite man to his Maker, points out to him the way he must follow for arriving at the possession and enjoyment of Him who is the great principle and end of all things, and teaches him, as a paramount duty, to conform his will and inclinations to His commands. Buddhism tends to abstract man from all that is without self, and makes self his own and sole centre. It exhorts him to the practice of many eminent virtues, which are to help him to rise to an imaginary perfection, the summit of which is the incomprehensible state of Neibban. It is the mildest expression which the writer can command when he has to speak of so sad a subject, the final end of a Buddhist. It would be more correct to say at once that the pretended perfect being is led, by the principles of his creed, into the dark and fathomless abyss of annihilation.
If the end aimed at by the followers of Buddha is widely different from that which the disciples of Christ strive to obtain, the means prescribed for the attainment of these two ends are, in many respects, very much similar to each other. Both creeds teach man to combat, control, and master the passions of his heart, to make reason predominate over sense, mind over matter, to root up from his heart every affection for the things of this world, and to practise the virtues required for the attainment of these great objects. Is there anything surprising that persons, having, in many respects, views nearly similar, resort to means or expedients nearly alike for securing the object of their pursuit, without having ever seen or consulted each other? He who intends to practise absolute poverty must of course abandon all his earthly property. He who proposes renouncing the world ought to withdraw from it. He who will lead a contemplative life must look out for a retired place, far from the gaze and agitation of the world. To control passions, and particularly the fiercest of all, the sensual appetite, it is required that one should keep himself separate from all that is calculated to kindle its fires and feed its violence. Every profession has its distinctive marks and peculiar characteristics. Hence peculiarity of dress, manners, and habits in those who have adopted a mode of life differing from that of the rest of the community. He who has bound himself to the daily recitation of certain prayers or devotional formulas a certain number of times will have recourse to some instrument, or devise some means for ascertaining the number of times he has complied with his regulation in this respect. He, too, who is eager to acquire self-knowledge and to carry on a successful war with himself will apply to a guide to whom he will lay open his whole soul, and ask spiritual advice that will enable him to overcome the obstacles he meets on his way to perfection.
These and many other points are common to all those that intend to observe not only the precepts but also the mere counsels of their respective creeds. Causes being the same, in many instances, in both systems, consequences almost analogous must inevitably result therefrom. Religious institutions always bear the stamp of the religious ideas that have given rise to them. They, together with their rules and regulations, are not the principle, but the immediate consequence or offspring of religion, such as it is understood by the people professing it. They exemplify and illustrate religious notions already entertained, but they never create such as are not yet in existence. When the learned shall have collected sufficient materials for giving an accurate history of the origin, progress, spread, and dogmatical revolutions of Buddhism, it will not be uninteresting to inquire into the causes that have operated in communicating to two religious systems essentially differing in their respective tendencies so many points of resemblance. But that study is yet to be made. We know very little on all those points. The best informed are compelled to acknowledge that in the present state of information we are still in the dark, the thickness of which is occasionally relieved by a few transient and uncertain glimpses which are insufficient to enlighten the mind, and enable the searcher after truth to guide safely his steps. In reading the particulars of the life of the last Buddha Gaudama, it is impossible not to feel reminded of many circumstances relating to our Saviour’s life, such as it has been sketched out by the evangelists. The origin of the close affinity between many doctrinal points and maxims common both to Christianity and Buddhism having been ascertained, it will not be difficult to find out and explain how the votaries of both have come to adopt so many practices, ceremonies, observances, and institutions nearly similar.
Having endeavoured to explain the nature of the institution of the Talapoins, and the object aimed at by its professed members, we will now proceed to examine its systematical organisation, or sacred hierarchy.
ARTICLE III.
HIERARCHY OF THE ORDER.
It is somewhat surprising to find in the middle of half-civilised nations, such as the Burmese, Siamese, Cingalese, and Thibetans, a religious order, with a distinct and well-marked hierarchy, constitutions and regulations, providing for the admission of members, determining their occupations, duties, obligations, and their mode of life, and forming, as it were, a compact, solid, and perfect body, that has subsisted, almost without change, during several centuries, and survived the destruction of kingdoms, the fall of royal dynasties, and all the confusion and agitation produced by political commotions and revolutions. It is in Thibet that the order is found existing in the greatest perfection, under the fostering care of the Grand Lama, or High Priest, who combines in his own person the regal as well as the sacerdotal dignity and power. In the city of Lassa, a pontifical court, an elective sacerdotal chief, and a college of superior Lamas impart to the order dignity, decency, respectability, and stability, which insure its continued existence, and more or less extend its influence over its members living in distant countries. The period of the introduction of Buddhism from India into Thibet is very uncertain, if not quite unknown. Buddhist annals mention that after the holding of the third council, 236 years after Gaudama’s death, some missionaries were deputed by the president of that assembly to go and preach religion in some parts of the Himalayan range. We may suppose that this had reference to the southern slopes of the mountains. Be that as it may, it appears certain that the establishment of a pontifical chief or sovereign, with royal prerogatives, was set up by one of the grandsons of the great Tartar warrior Gengis in or about the middle of the thirteenth century. In other countries, where the order has no connection whatever with the civil power, we can scarcely expect to see it surrounded with an equal splendour, or subsisting in the same state of splendour and regularity. Though this is the case in Burmah, it is impossible not to acknowledge the fact that the regulations of the Wini are more carefully attended to in this country than in Thibet. The conduct of the monks here is incomparably more regular. The public could not bear an open dereliction of the duties imposed by the vows of poverty and chastity. But, if credit be given to the narratives of travellers, the Thibetan monks do not scruple to forsake occasionally those duties, without appearing to fear the rising of a popular cry of indignation, on account of their misbehaviour in points considered of such vast importance. Extraordinary, indeed, would be its vital energies, were the remotest parts of this great and far-spread body to receive the same impulse and exhibit the same symptoms of vitality as those nearest to the heart or principle of life. Having never met with any detailed particulars regarding the Thibetan monks, we must remain satisfied with laying before the reader an account of all that relates to the constituent parts of the order, such as they are found existing in Burmah and developed in the sacred writings.
The whole fraternity is composed, 1st, of young men who have put on the Talapoinic dress without being considered professed members of the fraternity, or having hitherto passed through a certain ordeal somewhat resembling an ordinary; they are called Shyins; 2d, of those who, having lived for a while in the community in a probationary state, are admitted professed members with the ceremonies usually observed on such occasions, whereby the title and character of Phongyie are solemnly conferred; they are denominated Patzins; 3d, of the heads of each house or community, who have the power to control all the inmates of the house; 4th, of a provincial, whose jurisdiction extends over all the communities spread in the towns and villages of the province or district; 5th, of a superior general, residing in the capital or its suburbs, called Tsaia-dau, or great master, having the general management and direction of all the affairs of the order throughout the empire. He is emphatically called by the name of Tha-thana-paing, which means that he has the power over religion. Let us say something upon each of these five degrees of the Buddhistic hierarchy.