The sagacious legislator of the Buddhistic religious order, pre-occupied with the idea of elevating the spiritual principle above the material one, and securing to reason a thorough control over bodily appetites, has prescribed temperance as a fundamental virtue essential to every Rahan. In common with all their fellow-religionists, the Rahans are commanded to abstain from the use of spirituous liquors and of intoxicating substances. Such a prohibition is the wisest step that Gaudama could have adopted to preserve his followers from the shameful vice of drunkenness. All uncivilised people make use of spirits for the sole purpose of creating in them the effects of intoxication. Were it not for such an excellent regulation, the members of the Thanga would soon become, by their excesses, the laughing-stock of the laity. The time allotted for taking their meals extends from daybreak to the moment the sun has reached the middle of its course; but as soon as the luminous globe has passed the meridian, the use of food is strictly interdicted. A stomach, more or less loaded with nutritive substances taken in the evening, weighs down the body, enervates the energies of the soul, clouds the intellect, and renders a man rather unfit to devote himself to the high exercises of study, meditation, and contemplation, which ought to be the principal occupations of a fervent Rahan. He is allowed to make two meals in the forenoon, but it is expected that he will eat no more than is required to support nature. He must always take his meals in company with the members of his community. To stifle the craving of gluttony and eradicate immoderate desires, he ought to repeat frequently within himself the following sentence: “I eat this rice, not to please my appetite, but to satisfy the wants of nature;” just as he says when he puts on the habit, “I dress myself, not for the sake of vanity, but to cover my nakedness.” Rice and vegetables are, according to the statutes, the staple food of the Phongyies; the use of fish and meat is tolerated, and now it has become a daily prevailing custom which has rendered the practice a lawful one. Strictly speaking, a Talapoin must remain satisfied with rice and various sorts of boiled vegetables which he has received in his patta during his morning perambulations through the streets of the place.
As it happened among the Romans that the law repressing convivial sumptuousness and luxury proved an ineffectual barrier against gluttony and other passions, so amidst the Rahans the strict regulations prescribing a poor and unsavoury diet have been obliged to yield before the tendencies to satisfy the ever-increasing demands of appetite. Most of the Phongyies give to dogs, or to the boys who live in the monastery, the vulgar food they have begged in the streets, and feed on aliments of better quality supplied to them regularly by some persons in easy circumstances, who call themselves supporters of the kiaong and of its inmates. The ordinary fare consists of rice and several small dishes for seasoning the rice, in which are some little pieces of flesh, dressed according to the culinary abilities of the cooks of the country, which are not certainly of the highest order. To this are added some of the fruits of the season accompanied by sweetmeats, which female devotees are wont everywhere so carefully to prepare and so fondly to offer to those who are the objects of their pious admiration and respect. The aliments supplied to the humble recluses are of the best description for the country they live in. One would say that they live on the fat of the land. The most delicate rice and the finest fruits invariably find their way to the monasteries. But withal, the Phongyies are not to be charged with the sin of intemperance or gluttony.
The quantity of food they may take is also an object of regulation, as well as the very mode of taking, and even of swallowing it. Each mouthful must be of a moderate size; a second ought not to be carried to the mouth before the first has been completely disposed of by the masticatory process, and found its way down through the œsophagus. The contrary would be considered gluttony, and an evident sign that the eater has something else in view besides appeasing the mere wants of nature. It is rather an amusing sight to gaze at the solemn indifference of a Talapoin taking his meal. One would be tempted to believe that he is reluctantly submitting to the dire necessity of ministering to the wants of a nature too low and material. The rule forbids Talapoins to eat human flesh, or that of the monkey, snake, elephant, tiger, lion, and dog.[60] As a mitigation of the severity of the disciplinary regulation prohibiting the recluses from taking any food from twelve o’clock in the day until the next morning, the use of certain beverages is permitted during that time, such as cocoa-nut water, the juice of the sugar-cane, and other refreshing draughts.
The rule being silent regarding the consumption of the betel-leaf and other ingredients constituting the delicious mouthful for masticatory purposes, the Talapoins avail themselves largely of the liberty left to them on this subject. The quantity of betel and other accompanying substances which they consume is truly enormous. These articles hold a pre-eminent place amongst the objects that are presented to the inmates of monasteries. The dark-red substance adhering to the teeth and occasionally accumulating at the corners of the mouth, the incessant motion of the lower jaw, the stream of reddish spittle issuing frequently from the lips of the Talapoins, are unquestionable proofs of both their ardent fondness and copious consumption of that harmless narcotic. Except during the short moments allotted for taking meals, a Rahan’s mouth is always full of betel, and the masticating or chewing process is incessantly going on.
A great modesty must distinguish a member of the family of the perfect from a layman; that virtue must shine forth in his countenance, demeanour, gait, and conversation. Any sign on his face indicating the inward action of anger or any other passion is found unbecoming in a person whose composedness and serenity of soul ought never to be disturbed by any inordinate affection. He never speaks precipitately or loudly, lest it might be inferred that passion rather than reason influences him. Worldly or amusing topics of conversation are strictly interdicted, either with his brethren or laymen. The rule requires him to walk through the streets with affected simplicity, avoiding hurry as well as slowness, keeping his eye fixed on the ground in front, looking not further than ten or fifteen cubits.
Curiosity tends to expand the soul on surrounding objects; but a Rahan’s principal aim being to attend diligently to himself, to prefer the care of self before all other cares, and to concern himself very little about all that takes place without, he assiduously labours to keep his soul free from vain inquiry, from eager desire of hearing news, and from an idle or unnecessary interference in things or matters strange to him. It seems that he has the wise saying always present to his mind, “Where art thou when thou art not present to thyself? And when thou hast run over all things, what profit will it be to thee if thou hast neglected thyself?” During his perambulations he never salutes or notices the persons he meets on his way; he is indifferent to the attentions and marks of the highest veneration paid to him by the people; he never returns thanks for offerings made to him, nor does he repay with a single regard the kindness proffered to him. Objects most calculated to awaken curiosity by their novelty and interest ought to find him cold, indifferent, and unconcerned. His self-collection accompanies him everywhere, and disposes his soul to an uninterrupted meditation on some points of the law. It is a counsel of the Wini to observe particularly the four cleannesses, viz., great modesty in the streets and public places, the confession of all failings, the avoiding of all occasions of sins, and the keeping oneself free from the seven kinds of sin. Such a wise injunction can only be attended to and observed by keeping a vigilant watch over the senses, which are the very gates leading into the sanctuary of the soul. We could enter into fuller and more particular details regarding the regulations of the Talapoinic order, but they would prove little interesting, and only corroborate what has been previously stated, that every action of a brother, even the most common, such as the manner of sitting, rising up, sleeping, eating, &c., has become the object of the legislative attention of the founder of the order. Nothing seems to have escaped his clear foresight, and he has admirably succeeded in leaving no room for the exercise of individual liberty. The rule is as a great moral being whose absolute commands must be always obeyed. Every individual is bound to lay aside his own self, and unconditionally follow the impulse of his guiding influence.
ARTICLE VI.
OCCUPATIONS OF THE BUDDHIST MONKS.
The whole life of a recluse being confined within a narrow compass, we will have very little to say regarding his daily occupations. As soon as a Talapoin has left at an early hour the sleeping horizontal position, he rinses his mouth, washes his face, and recites a few formulas of prayers, which he lengthens or shortens according to his devotion. He attires himself in his professional costume, gets hold of his mendicant’s pot, and sallies forth, in company with some brethren or disciples, in quest of his food. He perambulates the streets in various directions, and, without any solicitation on his part, receives the rice, curry, vegetables, and fruits which pious donors have been preparing from two to three o’clock in the morning, watching at the door of their houses the arrival of the yellow-clad monks. Having received what is considered sufficient for the day, he returns to the monastery, and sets himself to eat either what he has brought, or something more delicate and better dressed which his supporter, if he has any, has sent to him.
On the principal festivals, or on extraordinary occurrences, abundant alms are brought to his domicile. Sometimes he is called by a pious donor to come and receive them in the pagodas, or in large temporary sheds erected for the purpose reserved for the occasion. They consist chiefly of mattresses, pillows, betel-boxes, mats, tea-cups, and various articles he is allowed to make use of. On these occasions he repays his benefactors by repeating to them the five great precepts, and some of the principal tenets of the Buddhistic creed, and the chief points of the law. He enumerates at great length the numerous merits reserved to alms-givers. On this point it must be confessed that he is truly eloquent, and his language flowing and abundant: his expressions are ready at hand and most glowing, calculated to please the ears of his hearers and warm their souls to make fresh efforts in procuring him more copious alms. Occasionally he will recite long praises in honour of Gaudama, the last Buddha, for having during his previous existence practised eminent virtues, and thereby qualified himself for the high dignity of Phra. The sermon goes on sometimes in Pali or sacred language, which neither he nor his hearers can understand.
The Phongyies are sometimes requested to visit the sick, not so much for the purpose of ministering to the spiritual wants of the sufferer as for affording him some relief by his presence. It is believed that the appearance of a holy personage may have some effect in freeing the diseased from his distemper, and frightening the evil spirits that may be the mischievous agents in harming patients. The visitor repeats over them some points of the law that are intended to act as antidotes against the agency of the wicked one. Phongyies are very particular on the point of etiquette. When one of them has to enter into upper-storied houses, the yellow-habited religious, previous to his venturing into the lower story, will make it sure that there is no one, and particularly no woman, in the upper apartments, as it would be highly unbecoming that any man, and a fortiori a woman, should have their feet above his head. To avoid such an indecorous contingency, in case the sick person lies in a room upstairs, the Phongyie has recourse to an expedient few, I presume, would have thought of. By his direction a ladder is brought, the lower part of which rests on the street, and the upper leans on one of the upper windows; up goes the pious visitor, who by such a contrivance reconciles the observance of etiquette with the compliance to his duty. The writer confesses that he was much amused the first time that he witnessed such a feat performed at Penang by a Siamese Phongyie. The little crowd, attracted by this novelty, exhibited a curious mixture of feelings. Some laughed; many remained silent; but their deportment was evidently indicative of the respect and admiration that seemed to them to inspire the scrupulously tender conscience of the religious.