Part 8

Pagodas may be seen all over Burma, single or in groups; of all sizes from the less pretentious structure in the jungle-village, to the great Shwe Dagon in Rangoon, with its umbrella-top 328 feet in the air. These pagodas, modelled after the dagobas of Ceylon, are all of the same general shape, resembling the bottom half of a child's top, inverted. They occupy the most conspicuous places, on nearly every hilltop, on points jutting out into the rivers, and near the chief highways. The more important were built over some supposed relic of Gautama, such as a tooth or a hair. These pagodas are considered much more sacred than those that were built for merit only.

The Shwe Dagon pagoda, most famous of all Buddhist shrines, is said to have been built over relics of four Buddhas, including eight hairs of Gautama. The Shwe Hmaw Daw pagoda at Pegu, erected by the Talaings, claims a tooth of Gautama. The Shwe San Daw pagoda at Toungoo has a different history. A Burman prince, Tabin Shwe' Htee, when born had one long red hair standing out from the top of his head. This was a sure indication of an embryonic Buddha. In his honour the great pagoda was erected, and called the "Golden Hair Pagoda." The Maha Myat Moonee pagoda at Mandalay, commonly known as the "Arracan Pagoda" is second only to the Shwe Dagon, in the esteem of Upper Burmans. In A. D., 146, the King of Arracan cast a great brass image of Gautama, which became famous for its supposed miraculous powers. In A. D., 1784, the king of Burma, having conquered other parts of the country, and secured about everything he wanted, turned longing eyes towards Arracan and the far-famed image. This great image, twelve feet high, though cast in a sitting posture,--was brought over the mountains and deposited at the Arracan pagoda in a large building specially prepared for it, north of Amarapura. Not a smile disturbs the settled calm on its face as the visitor reads the inscription setting forth that the image was drawn here by the "charm of the king's piety." But from other sources we learn that his piety found expression in a war of conquest, of which this image was one of the coveted fruits. Its importation over the mountains was a wonderful feat. Little wonder that Burmans think it was accomplished by supernatural help.

A few miles north of Mandalay is the great Mingon pagoda, begun in 1790, and never finished. It is four hundred feet square at the base, and was to have been carried up to a height of five hundred feet, but work was suspended when it had reached about one third of its intended height, the country already having become seriously impoverished.

In 1839 an earthquake split it from top to bottom. No one mourned the seeming disaster, for no king could gain the "royal merit" by completing the work of another. As it is, this Mingon pagoda is said to be the largest pile of brick and mortar in the world.

The largest bell in Burma, weighing between eighty and ninety tons, and second in size to the great bell at Moscow, cast to match the immense pagoda, is still to be seen near the ruins. This bell is eighteen feet high, seventeen in diameter, and a foot and a half in thickness. It now rests on the ground, having long ago proved too heavy for its supports.

Pagodas are not temples. There is no open interior for a worship place. The worshipping is done in the open space around the pagoda, or in the idol-houses, the real temples.

The first pagoda was probably built at the close of the fourth century or even later; though Buddhists refer it to a much earlier date. The sacred books of Buddhism were brought to Burma about 397 A. D., according to the best authorities.

Before the introduction of Buddhism the Burmans and Talaings, like all other races around them, were spirit-worshippers. They knew no gods but _nats_, spirits with supernatural powers. The reigning king became a convert to the new religion, built a pagoda, and issued a royal decree that all his subjects should worship it, death being the penalty of refusal. The king's edict failing to accomplish its purpose, he cunningly commanded that a _nat-sin_ or spirit-house be built near the pagoda. The transition from the worship of invisible nats to the worship of the more tangible pagoda was natural and inevitable.

"It was by a strange irony of fate," says Sir Monier Williams, "that the man who denied any God or any being higher than himself, and told his followers to look to themselves for salvation, should have been not only deified and worshipped, but represented by more images than any other being ever idolized in any part of the world."

Dharmapala, who represented Buddhism at the Parliament of Religions, said: "A system in which our whole being, past, and present, and to come, depends on ourselves, theoretically, leaves little room for the interference or even existence of a personal God." It really leaves no room at all, and its founder plainly said so. Buddhism is a worship of ancestors, of which Gautama holds a monopoly.

As we have seen, at the advent of Buddhism the worship of evil spirits, by propitiatory sacrifice, prevailed throughout Burma, among all races. It is not to be supposed that the adoption of Buddhism dispelled these superstitions. Spirit-worship is still the religion, if it can be called a religion,--of the non-Christian Karens, Chins, Kachins, and other non-Buddhist races. When Buddhism was adopted by the Talaings, Burmans, and Shans, bloody sacrifice involving the taking of animal-life, had to be abandoned. But to this day propitiatory offerings of rice, fruit, or flowers, are made to the spirits as before. "Animism supplies the solid constituents," says a recent writer, "that hold the faith together, Buddhism the superficial polish. The Burman has added to his Animism just so much of Buddhism as suits him, and with infantile inconsequence draws solace from each in turn." Spirit-worship is his every-day religion, Buddhism for special occasions. Two illustrations will suffice to show how strong a hold superstition still has upon the people. A harmless lunatic had wandered through the streets for years. No one seemed to know the cause, but his reason, what little he ever possessed, had been dethroned, leaving him to wander about homeless and friendless. For his living he had to compete with the pariah dogs in the common effort to exist on what the people chanced to cast into the street after finishing their meals. One of the priests, thinking to gain notoriety as well as more substantial favours, declared that this man was a case of demoniacal possession. This was nothing new, for it is the common belief that _nats_ are responsible for disordered minds, sickness, and other calamities. But the priest further suggested that the nat that had taken up his abode in this man be exorcised by drowning him out. A company of Burmans assembled, secured the demoniac, and headed by the priest and tom-toms, proceeded to the river. The poor demoniac, filthy, naked and with matted hair,--a picture of abject helplessness,--was led by a rope to,--he knew not what. Several of the men took the poor creature in a boat to the middle of the river, and threw him overboard. When he tried to regain the boat they thrust him off with their bamboo poles. When he became exhausted and water-logged they would rescue him, only to throw him in again after a brief breathing spell. This was repeated for several days in the presence of the would-be wonder-worker, to the deafening sound of the tom-toms. It is needless to add that he continued to roam the streets, in the same condition as before. At one time when out on a tour among jungle-villages a native Christian called my attention to a large banyan-tree by the roadside. Up on one of the higher branches was a large gnarl, which, by a long stretch of the imagination slightly resembled a human face. The tree was standing there before the oldest inhabitant was born.

The gnarl was a peculiar growth of many years. One day a passer-by noticed a fancied resemblance to a human face, and spread the story that the tree was haunted,--that it was the abode of a _nat_. Of course the superstitious and gullible people believed it. A _zayat_ was quickly built under the tree; many brought offerings of rice, fruit, and flowers, and all who passed by that tree bowed down to worship that big knot on the limb. The dread of evil spirits is the bane of existence. There is constant fear lest some real or fancied lack of respect paid to the nats will bring some kind of disaster.

_Nagas_ are the most feared of all. There are several different kinds of _nagas_. Some live under water, others on land. They are dragon-like reptiles, "fearsome" and terribly dreaded by old and young. When a man is drowning it is because a naga is drawing him down. Does a man sink and not reappear, a naga has got him sure. On-lookers fear to go to the rescue. But there is one great naga, most dreaded of all, so long that it encircles the earth, which to the native mind, is as flat as a pancake. This monster is constantly moving forward, so that the position of its head is ever changing. But fortunately the astrologers have discovered that its progress in its orbit is regular, and the location of its head may be known, according to season of the year, a full year being required for the circuit. Every Burman knows in what direction is the awful naga's head at a given season. No love nor money will tempt them to travel through the jungle in that direction, in unfamiliar territory.

Naga-worship once prevailed in northern India. Whether imported into Burma, or also existing in Burma before the introduction of Indian influences in the north, is not known. But up to the eleventh century naga-worship was the most conspicuous feature in the observances of both spirit-worshippers and nominal Buddhists. Even now it is not uncommon to hear a Burman, suffering from some calamity or disease, lamenting that he has in some way brought disaster to himself by unwillingly offending the great naga. Once it was my good fortune to profit by their superstitious notions. Having rented a native house as temporary quarters, I learned soon after moving in, that it had the reputation of being haunted. Spirits of certain "dacoits" who came to a sudden death in a jail that formerly stood near by, were supposed to frequent the place. From that time on I could sleep in perfect security against all thought of prowling thieves. No fear that any native would come near that house after dark. Buddhism a "Beautiful Religion"? That it has many noble precepts no one will deny. The same is true of every system of philosophy ever formulated. But at its best it furnishes no incentive to righteous living, beyond one's own self-interest. It offers no help or hope whatever, beyond one's own unaided efforts. If man cannot save himself he must stay where he is, or be sinking lower, ever lower.

Buddhism, as seen in the life of the people, is _rotten to the core_. We have seen how its adherents craftily seek to evade the precepts and commandments of their "law," so far as possible; and then to balance their evil doings by works of merit. The priests prey upon the superstitions of their people, and grow fat. If offerings to the monastery do not come in so freely as desired the wily priest conveniently has a remarkable dream, in which a nat reveals to him that terrible calamities will befall the people if they do not increase their zeal.

This invariably has the desired effect. There is a general hustling throughout the jurisdiction of the monastery; and soon the greedy priests are fairly swamped with presents of plantains, rice, cocoanuts, etc.

At Kyankse there is a very steep hill, with several pagodas at the top. A missionary relates that he there "met an aged man who, to gain merit, climbs to the summit every day carrying two pots of water (about seventy pounds) for the use of the people who may come to worship there. He had a writing from the Buddhist priest, assuring him that a Buddha was about to appear, and if he continued in this meritorious work for seven years he would see the Buddha, and be rewarded."

The priest, in order to secure a regular supply of water, had deliberately duped this simple old man. And yet, as a work of merit, his daily task had a certain value, according to Buddhist teaching.

The utter powerlessness of Buddhism to meet the needs of the human heart forced itself upon me when first I witnessed one of their funerals.

A rich Burman jeweller, living near our chapel, died of old age. One of his sons occupied a high official position. Of course the funeral must be a grand affair. We reached the place just as the procession was forming. First, there were four men bearing a bamboo frame on which was an artificial tree, four feet high, its branches wound with bright coloured paper. From the ends of the branches silver coins wrapped in paper, were suspended. This money was to buy offerings for the pagodas. Fifty-six men in squads of four, carried bamboo frames on which were piled gifts for the priests, consisting of mats, rugs, chinaware, lacquered-ware, lamps, etc. There were fourteen of these frames, being one each for fourteen priests. Four coolies, each carrying on his shoulder a bamboo pole from which were suspended jackets and skirts to be given to the poor. A double line of men with slender strips of bamboo covered with showy paper, held upright like so many spears. Then came the procession proper, headed by one of the rich relations carrying a lacquer vessel filled with copper coin. Four coolies carrying two Burmese drums, suspended from bamboo poles. Two little boys fantastically dressed, danced before the drums, turning around in a solemn, but graceful manner, and at each turn striking the drums with their fists.

Then the mourners and friends, two daughters being dressed in white, with handkerchiefs tied round their heads as hair-bands. The coffin, covered with gold leaf, tinsel, and mirror glass, was elevated on a framework, about ten feet above the four-wheeled cart on which the framework rested. Above the coffin were several roof-like projections, one above another forming a pyramid, surmounted by a spire twenty feet high. Framework and spire were covered with showy paper and tinsel in artistic designs, and adorned with flags. The cart was drawn and pushed along by as many men as could get around it, long streamers of white cloth or ropes extending forward to the friends in front. Next to the bier was an ox-cart with the Burman band, or tom-toms. One man was blowing on an instrument resembling a large-mouthed flageolet, from which issued a tuneless succession of weird sounds,--music to their ears, no doubt,--but most melancholy to ours. Another was sitting inside of a low circular frame with small drums arranged in a semicircle, each producing a different sound. Behind the cart was a man with the cymbals, which he manipulated with marvellous skill, though the vibratory sounds and clangour were excruciating in the extreme to sensitive nerves. On another cart, under a canopy of red and white cloth was another coffin more elaborately decorated, but empty, merely for pomp and show, or to fool the evil spirits. If in the extra coffin the consequences of a man's evil deeds, together with _desire_, which constitutes the germ of the next existence, could also be buried, it would be the _ne plus ultra_ of hope to the Buddhist.

Then followed several "gharries" with well-to-do acquaintances of the family. As the procession moved slowly along the man with the pot of copper coin now and then threw a handful forward into the crowd of poor children, and oh what a scramble! The priests had already gathered at the "zayat" in the cemetery to receive the expected offerings. Had they been present at the bedside to minister some hope to the dying man who was about to pass out into the awful dark? Not at all, for the priest is supposed to be passing through the process of crushing out all natural feeling. He must not show that he is influenced in the least by death-bed scenes. Did they minister consolation to the sorrowing ones? Not at all, for the priest is not supposed to feel the least sympathy with sorrow and distress. To "Rejoice with them that rejoice, and weep with them that weep" is not in all his thoughts. He came not to minister, but to be ministered unto,--a complete reversal of the Christian principle. So at the funeral he offers no consolation, but expects to be himself consoled, very substantially. At the cemetery he sits in the zayat on his elevated platform, chewing and spitting _kun_--the picture of indolence and indifference. After the burial the afflicted ones, sorrowing without hope, with hearts bleeding as even heathen hearts can bleed, come and prostrate themselves before the priests, worshipping them in their very despair. But the priests seem neither to see nor to hear. Their minds from which "love of the world" has been well-nigh extinguished (!) are intent upon the rich presents with which their monastery is being filled.

Doubtless there are priests, especially the aged, who are sincerely striving to keep the "law" in spirit as well as in letter. But the very spirit of the law is selfishness.

The Buddhist sacred books were a gradual but abnormal growth. They contain comparatively little of the actual teachings of Gautama, but a vast deal that Gautama would not have sanctioned. Marvellous stories have grown up around the memory of Gautama, whom the people of his time regarded as a "religious hero, rather than a god." The most absurdly extravagant statements as to time, dimensions, space, and numbers, are found in these stories. Imagination has run riot in fabricating accounts of impossible miracles performed by Gautama.

Modern geography, if seriously taken into account by Buddhists, would stampede the whole Buddhist system. And yet these millions, given over to "believe a lie," accept it all without a question.

The Buddhist scriptures are divided into three main divisions.

The first is addressed to the priests, and contains rules governing their life, duties and habits. The second is addressed to the laity; the third to the _dewas_ and Brahmas in the worlds of _nats_.

It is claimed that the first council to settle the sacred canon was held in the year 543 B. C., in India; that the law was rehearsed from memory, but not committed to writing; that the second council was held in 443 B. C., when the law was again rehearsed, but not committed to writing; that the third and last council, held in 241 B. C., and continuing nine months, settled many questions in dispute; and furnished the stimulus of a great Buddhist missionary enterprise. Authorities differ as to the dates of these councils. Dr. Judson held that the Buddhist scriptures in their present form were not completed until four hundred and fifty-eight years after Gautama's death.

Were it possible for any human being to keep the law outlined in the sacred books of Buddhism, and thereby attain to its goal, _Neikban_, it might be said: "The gift of Gautama is eternal death." How different from the central truth in the Christian religion--

"The gift of God is eternal life." To make this known to the nations that sit in darkness, rests as a privilege and responsibility upon the Christian church.

VI

BURMA'S OUTCASTS

Admirers of Buddhism assert its superiority over Hinduism in that Buddhism has no caste system. In all ages and in all lands there has been, in real life, a sharp social distinction between the rich and the poor. This is inevitable, so long as unsanctified human nature holds sway. Burma furnishes no exception to the rule. But while Buddhist Burma has no caste system, involving contamination to one caste by contact with another; or social degradation by departing from caste-rules,--Burma has her outcasts.

There are five classes of outcasts, namely:--former pagoda-slaves and their descendants; the grave-diggers; the lepers; the beggars; and the deformed or maimed. Apostates from the Ancestral religion might be added as a sixth class. Slavery existed in Burma before the introduction of Buddhism. When the pagoda spires of the new religion began to multiply throughout the land somebody must be found to take care of the pagoda-grounds. Existing slaves were not available for that purpose, for they had been apportioned to the service of the king, and others in high life. Prisoners taken in war; life-convicts; and others who had incurred the displeasure of the king were drawn upon to meet the fresh and ever-increasing demand. Princely captives and their followers are said to have been condemned to lifelong drudgery as pagoda slaves, with all of their descendants forever, while the world should last. As Pagan was the first great centre of Buddhism in Upper Burma, there it was that this form of slavery originated.

Buddhism of the southern type was taken to Pagan in the eleventh century. The pagodas of Thatone were duplicated. One after another was built, until an area eight miles long by two miles wide along the river was literally covered with pagodas, far surpassing any city in the world in the extent of its religious structures.

Pagan ceased to be a capital in the fourteenth century, and its wonderful pagodas and temples were left to go to ruin. But the king's decree was perpetuated in all other important centres, until the British Indian Government annexed the country, and put an end to compulsory slavery. Besides the descendants of the original pagoda-slaves, others were added by successive kings, whether as punishment for crime, or by arbitrary selection of obnoxious villages or families. Once a slave always a slave. Posterity was doomed before it was born. Not only was there no possible release from this inexorable law, but the common people came to regard the pagoda-slaves as a class under a curse. Terrible sins of a former existence must have brought this great calamity upon them. Their touch was contaminating. Shunned and spurned at every point they became a community of outcasts, living by themselves, and existing on such offerings to the idols as could be rescued from the dogs and crows. Under British rule this form of slavery has nominally ceased to exist. But no law of a civilized government could restore the pagoda-slave or his descendants to equal social standing with their neighbours. They are outcasts still, and outcasts they will remain, until Buddhism is no more.

Climb the long covered stairway leading to the Shwe Dagon pagoda, or other of the more sacred shrines, you will find your path lined with sellers of offerings, paper "prayers," candles, and other things used at pagoda-worship. These sellers, with rare exceptions, are descendants of former pagoda-slaves, free in the eye of the law, but in slavery still to the unchangeable customs of Burman Buddhists. Other Burmans will not employ them, even to perform the tasks of the common Indian coolie.

Do they go to some distant place where they are not known, and there attain wealth and social position, the first intimation that they are of the old pagoda-slave stock mercilessly consigns them again to their former condition as shunned outcasts.

Companions in social degradation are the "Thu-bah-yah-zahs" or grave-diggers. Every Burman burial ground has its little community of thu-bah-yah-zahs, living apart from their fellow-men. Each community has its head-man, who makes the bargain when a grave is to be dug.

There is usually a fixed price for this work. But when a grave is to be dug for one who has met a violent death the price is gauged by the age of the individual. Violent deaths are windfalls to the grave-diggers.