A Civil Servant in Burma

by Sir Herbert Thirkell White

Buddhism as professed by the Burmese is of a high and pure type. In Burma, and in Burma alone throughout India,[183] Buddhism is a vital force. The suggestion that religion is in danger, or that monks have been ill-used, is the surest way to rouse popular feeling. The ethics of Buddhism are as lofty and inspiring as those of any faith in the world. Obviously Burmans do not invariably shape their lives in strict accordance with the precepts of the law. But in spite of failings and shortcomings, the spiritual and moral force of their religion sheds a penetrating influence on national life and character. Though its every rule may be daily violated, Buddhism does tend to make Burmans humane, tolerant, kind-hearted, charitable. All Burmans are well-grounded in the mysteries of their faith. When they sin, they sin against light and conscience. In all but the most abandoned, traces of the good influence of their religion are evident. One very pleasing effect is extension of benevolence in theory always, in practice often, to every sentient being. Consider, for instance, the kindly attitude of Burmans to lower animals. From the plump bullocks which draw the primitive, creaking[184] carts of the country to the pariah dogs which swarm in every village, or the pigs which used to scavenge the streets of Mandalay (whose chase, not by the Burmese, was the only form of pig-sticking known in Burma), all are objects of compassion and care. The Burman’s robust bullocks, nourished on their mothers’ milk, contrast pleasingly with the lean kine of the Indian. You will even see a pious Burman save a deadly snake from destruction, and set it loose in a place of security. This, perhaps, is an extreme instance of logical regard for principle.

Signs of the extent to which religion forms part of everyday life strike the most casual observer. The country is full of pagodas, monasteries, theins,[185] images of the Buddha, zayats. Pagodas vary in size from the stately Shwe Dagôn to the humble fane on the outskirts of a village. It may be worth while to explain that a pagoda is not a temple in which worshippers pay their devotions. It is a solid structure, often built over sacred relics, of varying type, the most prevalent being that of the great pagoda at Rangoon. Some pagodas are richly gilded, others merely whitewashed. Each is crowned with a ti, if possible studded with jewels. The very topmost pinnacle is often an inverted soda-water bottle, a primitive shield against lightning. Monks must have monasteries. These also differ in glory, from the great buildings, richly ornamented with carving covered with gold, founded by the King or Queen or some high official, which adorn the royal city, to the mat and thatched hut which shelters the poor village monk. A Burman who amasses wealth, the farmer who has an abundant harvest and good prices, the merchant whose venture has been successful, the rich broker or money-lender, does not hoard his gains. He spends them on jewels for his wife and daughters, on silks for these ladies and himself, on building a monastery, or a pagoda, a zayat, incidentally on a pwè[186] or an ahlu.[187] The builder of a pagoda is a Paya-taga, of a monastery a Kyaung-taga, honorific titles in familiar use, as common as the title of Colonel is said to be in the United States. Laymen are associated in religious observances. A monastery has a lay attendant, a Kappiya-taga, who makes it his business to see that the building is maintained and duly swept and garnished. Every eighth day is set apart by the pious for religious observances, for meditation, for visiting a pagoda, for attendance at a monastery to hear the Law expounded. Each year there is a long Lenten period (Wa), when abstinence and religious practices are enjoined on the faithful, when good Buddhists refrain from marrying, when monks remain secluded in their monasteries, undertaking no journeys. A monk reckons his monastic life by the number of Lents he has observed. All this sounds rather gloomy, and in theory Buddhism ought to have a depressing effect. It teaches the transitoriness and mutability of this world and of all human things. No personal God smiles on his worshippers or listens to their prayers. This life is an evil in itself, a period to be spent in the acquisition of merit, in preparation for the ascent to a higher plane. The goal of every man’s striving is the blessed rest of Nirvana (Neikban), a state, not of annihilation, but of rest for many ages from passion and all transitory disturbance. For even the rest of Nirvana is not eternal. After many æons, it may be, the unceasing round begins again. The practical effect of this austere creed is quite different. Nowhere is there a more gay and light-hearted people. To balance the days and months of abstinence, religious festivals are of frequent occurrence. Then the roads are crowded with cart-loads of merry holiday-makers. Pagoda platforms are filled with bright-clad, laughing throngs. Pwès and all national sports are celebrated. On every side are gaiety and good-humour, the basis of religion underlying all. It is not for me to attempt to explain these apparent inconsistencies.

The people in general soon made up their minds that there was no intention of interfering with their religion. And, in spite of isolated instances, the monks accepted the new order with resignation, if not with enthusiasm. The tolerant spirit of Buddhism pervades all classes. Strangers wander unmolested and without meeting scowling looks in the precincts of pagodas and holy places; they are welcome to explore the recesses of monasteries, observing only common politeness and decorum. You are not expected to take off your shoes on reaching the sacred limits of a pagoda or monastery. Ordinary courtesy doubtless impels you to remove your hat in a sacred building. It is not really correct to walk across the sleeping mat of a Sadaw,[188] as I saw done by a lady who should have known better. The Sadaw only laughed, recognizing that no offence was meant.

Pagodas and sacred images are left to the care of the people themselves, tempered by the benevolent patronage of the Archæological Survey. In too many cases these buildings and objects are left to the process of natural decay. It seems to be somewhat more meritorious to build a new shrine than to keep in repair an existing fabric. Probably the builder of a new pagoda, for instance, earns all the merit for himself, while a restorer shares it with the original founder. In the case of edifices of special sanctity or conspicuous antiquarian or architectural interest, arrangements have been made, at the instigation of Government, to vest the property and management in legally appointed trustees. The care and maintenance of sacred buildings and the due appropriation of pious offerings are thus assured. Not only for the Shwe Dagôn Pagoda and the Arakan Pagoda at Rangoon and Mandalay respectively, but for many shrines of less fame, trustees have been appointed. This is the best way of securing the preservation of religious buildings of inestimable interest.

One of the most striking personalities in modern Burmese Buddhism is the Ledi Sadaw. This remarkable man devoted some years of his life to travelling through the country preaching and exhorting. His passionate eloquence drew immense congregations. Wherever he went he was greeted by enraptured throngs. Men and women vied in adoration of this saintly personage, women loosing their hair and spreading it as a carpet for his holy feet. His fervour and fiery zeal effected real revivals, whether lasting or transitory I dare not say. Besides addressing public assemblies, he obtained leave to enter jails and preach reformation to the prisoners, apparently with good results.[189] In spite of the extraordinary enthusiasm which he inspired and the honours thrust upon him in his triumphal progress, he preserved unstained and flawless, simplicity and humility of character. We are not wont to regard with favour errant monks preaching here and there. Too often their exhortations have tended to sedition, their liberty has been a cloak for licence. Never for a moment did the Ledi Sadaw fall under a shadow of suspicion as to the purity of his motives and conduct, or the good intention of his pilgrimage. The ethical part of his sermons consisted of fervent denunciations of intemperance, drinking, gambling, opium-smoking, the pleasant vices most devastating among Burmans. In no way inspired by any Government officer, he did not hold aloof from the authorities, but desired to be on good terms with them. Speaking to Colonel Maxwell,[190] who more than most of us won the intimate confidence of Burmans, in all simplicity he said:

“I am not sure that Government will approve my preaching. There will be much loss of revenue; for when I have finished, all liquor and opium shops will be closed for want of custom.”

With a clear conscience the Commissioner bade him go on and prosper, assuring him that Government would be well pleased if so desirable a result could be attained. The promised millennium has not yet arrived. While heartily approving the Sadaw, we did not think it expedient to make our approval conspicuous, lest plausibly, though falsely, the suggestion might be made that he was an agent of the Asoya.[191] A travelling set of the Buddhist scriptures was the only mark of Government’s appreciation. I had the privilege of one interview with this extraordinary man. What chiefly impressed me was his weary expression, as though the working of the fiery spirit had worn out the frail tenement of the body. I am glad to hear that the Sadaw still lives, and that his preaching days are not over.

One of the last incidents of my residence in Burma may fitly conclude this discursive chapter. Early in 1910 we were privileged to receive what are believed to be genuine relics of the Buddha. They were discovered by the Archæological Survey near Peshawar. Their authenticity has, I believe, been doubted. I hope I am not, to use the happy phrase of an Irish friend, more prone than most men to swallow mares’-nests. But to me the evidence of the genuine character of the relics seems reasonably convincing. It was my fortunate lot to be instrumental in securing the despatch of these precious remains to Burma, where alone, as I have said, the pure spirit of Buddhism still reigns; and to be present when, with due solemnity, at Government House in Calcutta, the Viceroy graciously entrusted the casket and its priceless contents to a deputation sent from Burma to receive them. The relics were welcomed in Rangoon with demonstrations of pious enthusiasm, and brought by a long procession to the Shwe Dagôn Pagoda, where, for some days, they were exhibited for the edification of the faithful. Thence they were taken to Mandalay and placed in the care of the elders of the Arakan Pagoda till a separate suitable shrine can be erected in custody of a duly constituted trust.