BUDDHISM IN BURMA
The most wonderful and beautiful feature of Burmese life I have barely referred to, and yet it would deserve a whole volume to itself. The greatest thing in Burma is the Buddhist religion. We have been told by several people who ought to know, that the real religion of Burma is not Buddhism but Animism;[384] that Buddhism is merely an outward label, and that what the Burman really worships is not the law of Buddha, but the nats and spirits that inhabit the rivers and mountains and forests. There is, of course, a considerable element of truth in this criticism, and it applies even more truly to the Shans than to the Burmese. I have had evidence of this in the neighbouring countries, when the Shan boys who guided my canoe down the rivers of Laos used to stop to offer up prayers to the river-nats whenever we came to a dangerous rapid. But to describe Buddhism in Burma as a mere label seems—though I say it with all deference to those who know better—to be an exaggeration. The Burmans not only "profess and call themselves" Buddhists, but they are brought up in the tenets of that religion from their earliest childhood, and before the British Government established secular schools they received all their education from Buddhist monks within the walls of Buddhist monasteries. The great majority do so still, though some are sent to the secular schools as well. Like the Siamese, all Burmese boys at some time or other wear the yellow robe and take the monastic vows. Most of them return as a matter of course to the secular life, but it would be contrary to all human experience to expect them to forget the religion they have been taught both at home and at school during their most impressionable years; and, as a matter of fact, throughout their lives they continue to have the greatest reverence for the yellow robe—the symbol, in their eyes, of all that is holy.
BUDDHISM AND ANIMISM
I would go so far as to say that the average Burman of the present day is at least as much entitled to the name of Buddhist as the average Englishman or German is to the name of Christian.[385] The law of Buddha is certainly not broken by Burmans in the same lighthearted manner that European Governments and individuals consistently break the commands contained in the Sermon on the Mount: it is not contemptuously thrust aside as "an excellent ideal, but quite unworkable in practice." Buddhism, as it is taught and practised in Burma, is a beautiful religion. I never met a single European in Burma—I must admit that I did not come in contact with the Christian missionaries there—who had a single harsh word to say about the wearers of the yellow robe,[386] or the general effect of their teachings. Whatever their own religious views may be, all Europeans seem ready to acknowledge that Buddhism was and still is a great power for good, and that it will be a dismal day for the Burmese people when their religion decays or relaxes its hold upon them. Fortunately, there seems to be every reason to believe that it will not do so, that Buddhism is for the Burman, if for no other, a κτῆμα ἐς ἀεί. It seems strange to be told by one of the foremost living exponents of Burmese life and character that the professed religion of Burma is only "an electro-plating, a bloom, a varnish, enamel, lacquer, a veneer."[387] Surely this must not be taken quite seriously. A "bloom," a "varnish," a "veneer" suggests something that may be more or less easily rubbed off, without materially affecting the substance on which it has been laid. Can it be held in good faith that Buddhism could be rubbed away like the bloom from a grape and leave the Burmese people substantially unaffected? Do the gentleness, the patience, the humanity, the kindness to animals, the winning manners and the limitless charity and generosity of the Burmese owe nothing to Buddhism? If Buddhism has had even a minor share in the shaping of the character of the modern Burman we dare not call it a mere bloom or varnish. That there is, however, a very broad stratum of animism in the various deposits that have helped through the shadowy centuries of an unrecorded past to build up the religious mind of Burma may be granted without dispute. Animism, as we know, is to be traced in the popular versions of all or nearly all the religious systems of the world. The eleventh book of the Odyssey is—as F. W. H. Myers has remarked—"steeped in animism,"[388] and we have only to turn to the eighth book of the Æneid[389] to find that even in the polished age of Augustus animistic ideas were far from dead. Brahmanism, Buddhism, Islam, the Greek and Roman mythologies, the popular semi-religious superstitions of China and Japan, and Christianity[390] are all to some extent interpenetrated with animism, and it is only natural that in the case of Buddhism the animistic influences should be specially strong: for that faith enshrines, among the noble and simple moral teachings that all can understand, a profound philosophical system far beyond the comprehension of the average half-educated peasant; and it has always shown, perhaps, even too generous a tolerance of the alien opinions and practices with which it has come in contact.
We are told by the well-known writer on Burma from whom I have just quoted, that when in 1888 the hti (pinnacle) of the Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon was thrown down by an earthquake, a magnificent new one, costing 600,000 rupees, all collected by public subscription, was put up by gratuitous labour.[391] I am far from wishing to lay any emphasis on the significance of the mere voluntary expenditure of so large a sum of money, for we know that in Burma all wealth is dross, and that as judged by Burmese ideas few of the rich philanthropists of Europe would rank as other than mere misers; but the fact of the gift of gratuitous labour by a people who are constantly stigmatised as "lazy dogs" and haters of all kinds of hard work, is surely worthy of a moment's consideration. The average Briton is credited with being anything but lazy, yet what would Christian England say if the Primate were to call upon the British workman to give the work of his hands for nothing in the restoration of St Paul's Cathedral? The result of his appeal might possibly suggest in some minds the disquieting reflection that the Burmese were not the only people whose professed religion was a mere "varnish."
THE SHWE DAGON
Any one who visits the pagodas and watches the people at their devotions—they make a far more beautiful picture, by the way, than the congregation of any European church, though that is not to the point—is not likely to see anything suggestive of the decay of Buddhism. There are, on the contrary, healthy signs of a renewed religious activity which, if guided aright, should lead to splendid results and silence all forebodings. Meanwhile, the jewelled pinnacle of "the greatest cathedral of the Buddhist faith"[392]—the Shwe Dagon Pagoda—still bears silent witness to the vitality and beauty of the religion which called it into being. So long as the Buddhist faith is a living force in Burma, there will never be wanting eager hands to dress the altars and lay gold-leaf on the dome of that splendid fane, and never will the grand and passionless face of the Lord Buddha be averted from the little Burmese children who with their fathers and mothers come to lay their gifts of flowers at the Master's feet. If Buddhism dies out of Burma the country will lose the most precious of all its possessions; and when the Shwe Dagon, deserted by its last pilgrim, crumbles away into a shapeless heap of bricks, the world's diadem will lose one of its most lustrous gems.
[CHAPTER XVIII]
CONCLUSION