The village temples might more suitably be called chapels. All have some features in common. At the further end of a dimly-lighted room is an altar of stone or wood. On this are placed the idols, and around them are arranged vases and cups, in which the offerings of the laity are deposited. The larger edifices have vestibules, and at the entrance are generally rude images of the four great kings ([p. 206]), who are supposed to be the guardians of Buddhism ([p. 206]), while inside there are sculptures, frescoes, and pictures illustrative of the various births and transmigrations of the Buddhas and Bodhi-sattvas. In the precincts is always to be found a Bodhi-tree (Bo-tree, [p. 519]), if the climate and soil will admit of its being reared. The greater number of sacred structures, however, even those of a more important kind and more entitled to be called temples, are mere square or oblong rectangular buildings, without architectural design or ornamentation.
In Ceylon I visited a temple of this kind on the shore of the Kandy lake. It consisted of a large bare room or small hall, at the further end of which was a curtain concealing a highly venerated image of the Buddha. The attendant drew aside the curtain and showed us the image, which had representations of rays of light issuing from all parts of his body, as well as five rays emerging from the crown of his head. In the enclosure or ‘compound’ of the temple, was a bell-shaped Dāgaba or relic-shrine of solid brick-work, covered with Chunam, and having a receptacle for lights in front of it. Close at hand was the usual sacred Pīpal-tree.
At Kelani, about eight miles from Colombo, is a larger and much more important temple which I also visited. Those who make pilgrimages to this temple gain great stores of merit. It contains a colossal recumbent image of the Buddha, thirty-six feet long, lying on his right side, and representing the founder of Buddhism when about to pass into Pari-nirvāṇa (see [p. 50]). The image is protected by a screen, in the centre of which is a figure of the King of Serpents, while at the sides are gigantic images of the temple-guardians. Around the interior are fresco paintings of various incidents in the previous lives of the Buddha. There are also images of the Hindū gods Vishṇu, Ṡiva, and Gaṇeṡa (see [p. 206]). In the garden of the temple are residences for the monks, a cloister-like enclosure, a room with a good printing press, and an immense Pīpal-tree.
A still more important temple is that called the Dalada Māligāwa or temple of the sacred eye-tooth, at Kandy in Ceylon. This is a very picturesque structure, situated on the margin of the lake close to the town. It has no surrounding walls, and is easily accessible to all comers. Steps lead up to a kind of open corridor, in which is the main entrance, and the walls of which are decorated with coloured frescoes of the eight principal hells—the supposed abode of evil-doers undergoing purgatorial torments during one of their states of existence (see [p. 120])[238].
Some are represented in the act of being cut in pieces by demons, or fixed on red-hot iron spikes, or torn asunder with glowing tongs, or sawn in two with saws, or crushed between rocks, or consumed by flames entering the apertures of their bodies. The European visitor inquires with amazement how it is that a system so mild, merciful, and tolerant, should have invented the horrible tortures here exhibited. The explanation is not difficult, and his astonishment ceases when he is reminded that Buddhism, recognizing no moral Governor of the Universe, is compelled to resort to such artifices for the coercion and intimidation of evil-doers.
In the interior of the building is the shrine, in which is preserved behind iron bars, the golden Dāgaba or receptacle of one of the Buddha’s eye-teeth (see [p. 500]). On each side are images, and when I visited the shrine, the whole chamber was redolent with the fragrance of masses of flowers—chiefly jasmine—recently deposited before them as offerings.
Behind the building I found an open quadrangle with cells for the monks, and a residence for the Head of the monastery. Not far from the entrance was a spacious library, where I was greeted by a number of youthful monks, dressed in simple toga-like vestments, but with their right shoulders left bare. Some were engaged in writing. I therefore asked for a specimen of their penmanship. Upon which they wrote down for me on palm leaves, in the Sinhalese character, forty-eight epithets of the Buddha, such as the following:—God of the gods, Indra of Indras, Brahmā of Brahmās, the Almighty, Omniscient, Existing in his own Law, Lord of the Law, Saviour of all, Conqueror, King of doctrine, Ocean of grace, Treasury, Jewel, Sun, Moon, Stars, Lotus, Ambrosia of the World, the Five-eyed one, the Bull, Elephant, Lion among men, stronger than the strongest, mightier than the mightiest, more merciful than the most merciful, more meritorious than the most meritorious, more beautiful than the most beautiful, etc.
The temples in Burma are commonly called ‘pagodas,’ a word corrupted from the Pāli Dāgaba (Sanskṛit Dhātu-garbha), ‘receptacle of the (sacred) elements’ or relics of the body. They are also called Dagohn. According to Mr. Scott (‘Burman,’ i. 184), the number of temples in Burma far exceeds those in Ceylon or Tibet or China. No village so poor as to be without its ‘neatly kept shrine, with the remains of others mouldering away around it; no hill so steep as to be without its glittering gold or snow-white spire rising up to guard the place; no work of merit so richly paid as the building of a pagoda.’ Some are of simple construction, others elaborate; but of all the temples the great Rangoon pagoda is the grandest and most crowded with worshippers and pilgrims.
The peculiar sacredness and popularity of this wonderful structure (said to have been founded 588 B.C.), arises from its containing relics of Gautama and his three predecessors, that is, eight hairs from Gautama’s head, the staff of Kāṡyapa, the robe of Kanaka-muni, and the drinking-cup of Kraku-ććhanda (see [p. 135] of these Lectures). The stately pile stands upon a mound—partly natural, partly artificial—cut into two rectangular terraces one above the other, the upper being 166 feet above the ground, and each side facing one of the cardinal points of the compass. The ascent is by very dilapidated steps, some of stone, some of ‘sun-dried bricks, worn almost into a slope by the bare feet of myriads of worshippers.’ None but Europeans may ascend with covered feet. The stairs lead to a ‘broad, open flagged space, which runs all round the pagoda, and is left free for worshippers.’ From the centre of this springs, from an octagonal plinth, the ‘profusely gilt solid brick pagoda,’ which has a circumference of 1355 feet, and rises to a height of about 328, ‘or nearly as high as St. Paul’s cathedral.’ On the summit is ‘the Tee,’ a gilt umbrella-shaped ornament with many tiers of rings, on each of which ‘hang multitudes of gold and silver jewelled bells.’ It was ‘placed there at a cost of not much less than £50,000[239].’ At the foot of the pagoda are four chapels, having colossal figures of Buddha at the sides, and their gilded interiors darkened by the vapour of thousands of burning tapers. ‘Hundreds of Gautamas,’ large and small, white and black, gilded and plain, sitting, standing, and reclining, surround the larger images. It is said that the great pagoda has been thrice covered with gold-leaf.
There is a still higher pagoda (332 feet high) at Pegu, and the most ancient of all is at Arakan.