The practical working of the Buddhistic system relatively to almsgiving deserves some notice. A man bestows alms on the Rahans, or spends money towards promoting some religious purpose; he does so with the belief that what he bestows now in the way of alms will secure to him countless advantages in future existences. Those favours, which he anticipates to enjoy hereafter, are all of a temporal nature, relating only to health, pleasures, riches, honours, and a long life either in the seat of man or in the seats of Nats. Such is the opinion generally entertained by all Buddhists in our days. Talapoins make the preaching of the law consist chiefly in enumerating the merits and rewards attending the bestowing of alms on persons devoted to a religious mode of life. In this respect the practical result of their sermons is certainly most beneficial to themselves. The spiritually-minded Buddha seems to have levelled a blow at concupiscence and covetousness by openly stating that alms have not the power to stem the current of demerits, to give rise and energy to the principle of merits, or to lead to wisdom, which enables man to weaken gradually concupiscence, anger, and ignorance, and to open and prepare the path to Neibban. True knowledge, attended by the practice of the virtues peculiar to those who have entered into the current of perfection by following the four Meggas, can alone enable a man to reach Neibban. Many excellent practices enforced by Buddhism have, so to speak, been reduced to a mere lifeless skeleton by ignorance and passions, but they would appear in a very different light were they animated with the spirit that has brought them into existence.
[13] The observance of the five precepts incumbent upon all Buddhists is the foundation whereupon is to be erected the spiritual edifice; it is the first step towards the great ways leading to perfection; it is preparatory for the great exercise of meditation, by which true wisdom may be acquired. The faithful who observe the five precepts and the three additional counsels show that faith is living in their hearts, and give unmistakable marks of their zeal in the practice of religion. They are real Upasakas, or laymen, fervently adhering to and taking refuge in Buddha, the law, and the assembly; but they cannot take rank among the members of the assembly or Thanga. Practice of and progress in meditation can alone usher an Upasaka into the sanctuary of the perfect.
The rewards destined to the faithful after their death are exactly proportionate to their merits and the real worth of their deeds. The seats of Nats, placed immediately above the seat of men, but under the sixteen seats reserved to the perfect, are opened to the pious Upasaka who migrates from the seat of probation and trial. The nature of the pleasures enjoyed in the Nats’ seats are all referable to the senses. All that can be imagined best fitted for the delectation of the five senses is accumulated in those blissful regions, and proffered with an ever-renewed profusion to their fortunate inhabitants. The vivid imagination of Asiatics has, one would say, exhausted its stores in picturing with an amazing variety the riches to be possessed there. It would be of no utility to attempt to give a compendious narrative of what we meet with in Buddhistic compositions respecting those regions. Suffice it for our purpose to say that the distinction of sexes remains in the Nats’ countries. In the two lowest seats connection takes place between the sexes, but no procreation ever results from it; in the third seats the Nats of different sexes are fully gratified by a simple kiss; in the fourth, by the touch of the hand; in the fifth, by merely looking at each other; and in the sixth, by the mere fact of their being in the same place, upon which we may make two observations. The first is that pleasures therein enjoyed lose their coarseness, and become more refined and more perfect in proportion as the seats are more elevated. The greater are the merits of the Upasaka in this life, the higher is the seat he is destined to occupy, and the more refined are the pleasures and enjoyments allotted to him. Hence our Gaudama having, during the existence preceding this last one, practised moral virtues of the highest order, migrated to Toocita, the fourth seat of Nats. The second observation is, that the duration of the enjoyments in the Nats’ seats increases in an arithmetical progression; that is to say, the pleasures of the second seat last twice as long as those of the first or lowest seat. Those of the third seat last twice as long as those of the second, and so on to the last or highest seat.
In the sermons that the Talapoins address to the people for stirring up their zeal chiefly in making alms to them, they are most fluent and abundant in the promises of rewards in the Nats’ seats, as a powerful inducement held out to them for keeping up their zeal in bestowing alms. They admirably succeed in obtaining their object with most of their hearers. It cannot be denied that those poor deluded followers of Buddha are fully convinced of all that is narrated to them by Talapoins respecting the Nats’ seats. Such is the implicit faith of the mass of the Buddhists. One may occasionally meet with a few individuals who laugh at those fables, but these are looked upon in no better light than that of rationalists or freethinkers by the orthodox portion of the community.
[14] The posture assumed by Buddha at this last stage of his life has supplied the subject of an artistic composition to the Southern Buddhist sculptors. A statue representing Phra in that reclining position is to be seen in almost every pagoda. Some of these statues are made on truly gigantic proportions. I have measured one that was forty-five feet long. If we take such rough works as exhibiting the amount of skill possessed by natives in the art of carving, we must confess that that art is with them yet in its infancy. The huge idols I have met with are never made of wood or hewed stones, but are built up with bricks. The artist, having made in this way the principal parts of the statue, covers the whole with a thick coat of mortar, the softness of which enables him without much labour to put the finishing hand to his work. These statues are invariably made after a certain pattern belonging to the antiquity, and to an epoch when the art was yet in its very infancy: they are, in an artistic point of view, the worst, rudest, and coarsest attempts at statuary I have ever seen. Gold is, however, profusely lavished on those shapeless and formless works. The big idol above referred to was covered with gold, that is to say, gilt from head to feet.
Idols of smaller dimensions, those in particular representing Buddha sitting in a cross-legged position, in the attitude of meditation, are likewise wretched specimens of art. A great many are made of a soft stone, almost white, resembling marble in appearance, and capable of receiving a most perfect polish. About three miles west of the old and ruined city of Tsagain is a place where the manufacturing of marble idols is carried on to a great extent. The stone used by the carvers is brought from a place north of Amerapoora, where it is abundant. It is soft, transparent, white, and sometimes, when polished, exhibits a slightly bluish appearance. The instruments used by the artists are simple and few. Were it not for the custom which obliges them to follow always the same patterns, the Burmese workmen would much improve in that branch of the fine arts.
[15] If Buddha ever deserved the surname of sage, it was assuredly on this occasion that he entitled himself to such an honourable distinction. All nature reversed its course on his account: wonders of the most extraordinary character loudly proclaimed his supereminent excellencies: the most exalted beings united their voices in extolling his transcendent merits, and showing their unbounded respect for his person; all that could dazzle the eye, please the ear, and flatter the heart, was displayed on an unparalleled scale to do honour to him who was about to leave this terrestrial abode. Buddha, however, solemnly declares, and unhesitatingly says to Ananda, that such a display is infinitely below his merits and perfections, and can bear no comparison with his fathomless wisdom and boundless knowledge of truth. Such things, in his opinion, are mere externals, quite destitute of substantial worth; they confer no real honour to him. They, adds he, who truly do honour to me are those who practise all that is enjoined by the most excellent law; nothing short of the observance of the law can please me; the practice of the virtues leading to perfection alone give the right to be called my disciple. My religion can rest firmly only on such solid foundation.
These expressions make every reader understand that, in Buddha’s opinion, religion is not a mere theory, teaching fine moral precepts, destined to excite a vain admiration in the mind, or elicit useless applauses; but it is a moral and practical system, making man acquainted with the duties he has to perform in order to shun vice and practise virtue. Nothing can be more explicit and positive than the notions he entertains of religion. They are worthy of the founder of a religious system now believed and admitted, with more or less considerable variety, by nearly one-fourth, or at least one-fifth, of the great human family. It must be admitted that the high religious sense entertained by Buddha, and communicated in all its purity to his immediate disciples, has almost vanished away in all Buddhist countries. With the people religion consists in certain exterior observances, such as giving alms to the Talapoins, building pagodas, and making offerings during the three months especially consecrated to religious duties. The influence of religious teachers, owing to ignorance and want of zeal, may be thought by many to be almost null, and scarcely felt by the masses of nominal Buddhists. Two causes, however, seem to be the generators and supporters of the religious sentiment that influences the people,—education, and the political institutions. The male portion of the community is brought up in the monasteries by the Phongyies. All the books that are put into their hands, and most of those that they subsequently read, are treatises on religious subjects. This system keeps up, in a wonderful manner, the knowledge of religion, which exercises a great control over the actions of individuals, and regulates their conduct. But, besides, the religious element almost predominates in the body of the civil laws; it acts indirectly upon the people, and must be allowed a great share of influence in all that regards their morals. It is, therefore, to political institutions that Buddhism owes much for the continuation of its existence in these regions. Were it deprived of such a powerful support, there is every reason to believe that it could not perhaps long retain its hold over the masses, when regularly and extensively attacked by the followers of another system. But the first cause is by far the weightier and the more influential.
[16] In the first edition of this work the writer had made an error in supposing Oupalawana to have been a male religious. Another palm-leaf manuscript that he has consulted leaves no doubt about her real character. She was, among the female body of religious, the disciple of the left; and Kema, who had been for many years the first wife of King Pimpathara, was the disciple of the right. Oupalawana belonged to a distinguished family of Kapilawot. The female portion of the Thanga or assembly was constituted after the mode of the Rahans. Thariputra and Maukalan were respectively the disciples of the right and of the left. One of the duties of the Rahaness of the left was to fan Buddha on certain occasions, and render to him such services as were compatible with her sex. The order of nuns in Burmah in our days has fallen very low. Instead of the yellow colour, they have adopted the white one for their dress, which, in other respects, resembles that of the Phongyies. Their head is shaved. They are to be seen in the neighbourhood of pagodas, and in the streets, going about to beg the food required for their maintenance. The only large convent of those nuns which I have ever met is one on the right bank of the Irrawaddy, about five miles north of Tsagain. It contains about forty or fifty inmates. Some of them belong to good families, and reside in the house for a few years, after which they return into their home. That house is under the special protection of the king, who supplies the nuns with all the necessaries of life. In the valley of Tavoy a small convent also has been pointed out to the writer. It was situated on a beautiful spot, west of the river. When he went to see it, he was surprised to meet with two or three old women, habited in the canonical dress, who appeared to be wretchedly poor and slovenly in their habits. The house was in every respect in keeping with the exterior appearance of the tenants. The nuns do absolutely no work, except in certain localities where they try to do away with a portion of their time in clearing the weeds which grow so luxuriantly in the enclosure of some famous pagoda. They have no schools to teach girls the rudiments of reading and writing. They are on this head greatly behind the Buddhist monks, who have assumed to themselves the great and important task of teaching boys in the towns and villages.
[17] The founder of Buddhism shows himself on this particular subject a consummate moralist. He who could have spoken as he did on this truly delicate point must have been deeply versed in the knowledge of human nature, and thoroughly acquainted with its frailties and weaknesses. Buddha desired to maintain the members of the assembly in a state of spotless purity. To attain that desirable object he raised the strongest barrier against the wildest passion of the heart. No virtue, in his opinion, can withstand the incessant assaults directed against it by daily and familiar intercourse with persons of another sex. He would have, if possible, the inmate of a cell in a monastery out of the reach of temptation itself; he knows that the best tactics against such an enemy do not consist in boldly meeting the adversary, but rather in carefully avoiding encounter with him, manœuvring in such a way as to keep far from him. Hence idle conversations with female visitors are not only forbidden in a most positive manner, but the very sight of women is to be, if possible, avoided. When duty shall oblige a recluse to come face to face with the enemy, it is his bounden obligation to keep at as great a distance from female visitors as practicable. The subject of the conversation ought to be of a purely religious character; some portions of the law may be expounded, doubts of conscience may be proposed, and a solution given to them, &c. On such occasions the spiritual adviser is never to be left alone, but he must be surrounded by some of his brethren or disciples, at all times very numerous in the monasteries.