Gautama, the last and greatest of the seven Buddhas, had appeared on this earth at least five hundred and fifty times (working his way up from the lowest forms of existence, and always exhibiting absolutely self-denying charity) before he was finally born a son of the rajah of Magadha. According to the Ceylon tradition, he would be nearly contemporary with the prophet Daniel, as their sacred writings place his death in 543 B. C. From this period the sacred era of Siam is dated. This young prince fled from his royal father, and, forsaking rank and wife and child, became first a hermit. Later he wandered, in a course of open-air preaching, through the length and breadth of India, and, Southern Buddhists claim, even to Ceylon. By the force of his irresistible eloquence he founded a new sect. Fanatics of all ranks, taking on themselves voluntary vows of chastity and poverty, left their families to follow in his footsteps. He begged from door to door, taught the vanity of life, the terrors of transmigration and of the purgatorial hells, and claimed that his noble fourfold path was the only salvation from this dizzy round of birth and death; that Nirvana—or in Siamese Nipan—was the haven of final rest. He therefore urged his disciples of all ages and ranks to turn from other pursuits and devote themselves by a course of meditation, crucifixion of desire and meritorious acts exclusively to this one object—the attainment of Nipan. After forty-five years of such teaching it is claimed he passed into Nipan. Henceforth, for centuries, he has been held up as the Pure One (Arahang), and worshiped as the Buddha. Hence the confession of faith of a devout Buddhist is, “I take refuge in Buddha”—meaning that as the sage during all these hundreds of births distinguished himself by a self-sacrificing charity and acts of merit, denying and conquering all the natural appetites and desires, so the disciple bases his system of morals and his hopes of the future on the life and precepts of the founder. “Imitate Buddha; accept his ideas of life; renounce family relations, property, the carnal desires and passions,”—this is the one theme of Buddhist preaching.
In Christian lands we speak of “the preaching of the cross;” so the Buddhist, adopting the wheel as symbolic of the weary rounds of transmigration, speaks of “turning the wheel of doctrine” as most expressive of the Buddhist idea of salvation—rest or Nipan.
Heretofore, preaching-halls have been bare within, but the present king has lately built a beautiful Gothic chapel after the most approved modern style—stained glass windows, an altar, pews for the congregation, and something that has the appearance of a grand organ, with great pipes running to the ceiling, but, alas! a niche in each pipe filled with a small idol, and a much larger one on the altar. Still, the departure from old customs shows His Majesty’s desire for improvement.
Besides the preachings given in wat-chapels, private services are held by the Siamese monks at houses of nobles or some wealthy citizens by special request. The object is to give the host and his family an occasion to make extra merit.
Each wat has also its library, containing the sacred books or Buddhist scriptures. These are in the immediate charge of the priests, and are regarded as the most holy portion of the wat. You will certainly be expected to remove your shoes at the door. Siamese libraries are not what we associate with the word. The Wat P’hra Keäu library is matted with silver wire. In the centre is a large pyramidal chest of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl, answering for our shelves, where the books are kept. Most libraries have plainer chests or closets much in the same style. Their collection of sacred books forms a library it would take many men to carry. When a Siamese understands that Christianity is intended to supersede Buddhism, his tendency is to despise the smallness of our Bible as compared with his own sacred canon. Besides, he can produce no mean list of excellent moral precepts, and thinks the miracles of Buddha no whit behind those of the Bible.
The Siamese received their sacred canon from Ceylon. This is the very earliest compilation that history can point out. It was partly reduced to writing, after being handed down orally for several generations, about 93 A. D., and the whole was first compiled and fixed in writing 412 to 432 A. D.
If on a visit to such a library our guide proves to be that rara avis, an intelligent Buddhist priest of the reform party (among whom the late king was the prominent leader), he would tell you, as one of the head-priests explained to Mr. Caswell, “Here are two piles of books. The first contains the instructions of Buddha; the second contains the writings of eminent teachers of Buddhism who lived in ancient times. The first pile our party receive as authority in religion; the second we compare with the first; so far as it disagrees we reject it.” In answer to an inquiry if they found much to reject in the second pile, the priest said, “Yes, much,” and mentioned one whole set of more than five hundred volumes rejected.
Under the influence of these reformers, so far back as 1844, the king of Siam despatched an embassy to Ceylon to make further religious researches in that primitive nursery of their faith. These liberal views continued to spread, following the introduction of printed and scientific works by our missionaries; the more intelligent nobles and priests discovered errors in the geography, geology, and especially astronomy, which necessitated the discarding of much formerly held sacred. Here was planted the germ of disintegration now busily at work undermining this gigantic system of atheism. The confidence of many is shaken in the ethical teachings of sacred books so full of intellectual and moral despair.
But examine this Buddhist collection: see how unlike our books. Here is a bundle of palm-leaf slips from a foot to eighteen inches long and two to three inches broad, filed by strings strung through each end. Notice the richly-gilded edges. Do not these strange characters recall the dots and dashes and curious hieroglyphics of our telegraph-operators? These sacred writings are engraved with an iron style, and black powder is rubbed in to make the impression distinct. After finishing your examination the priest wraps them with reverent care in silk or muslin and returns them to the central ark or closet already described.
Sometimes in the wat library studious priests are found sitting on the floor, each with his book resting on a low reading-stool or desk before him, but they will probably feign not to notice us. Some high priests have fine private collections, including, of late years, English and French standard works.