Part 19

It was on this account that when the Buddha died he abstained from appointing a successor, and gave no directions to his followers as to any particular form of government. All that he said was, ‘Hold fast to the Law; look not to any one but yourselves as a refuge.’ In short, the Society (Saṅgha) he left behind was a simple brotherhood of monks which claimed some kind of corporate authority for the enforcement of discipline, but had no Head except the Law. Nor did Buddhism for a long time think of contravening the last injunctions of its Founder. Nor has it ever attempted to establish a universal hierarchy under one Head and under one central authority, and although the great Kāṡyapa as president of the first Council (p. 55) is sometimes held to have been the first successor of Buddha, and Ānanda the second (p. 56), these men never claimed any supremacy like that of Popes. In point of fact Buddhism simply organized itself in separate monastic institutions according to local ideas and necessities. And indeed the exigencies of healthy growth, and even the simple instinct of self-preservation compelled the scattered members of the Buddhist Brotherhood to attempt some such organization very soon after the death of their Founder. In ancient times communication was carried on with difficulty, and the Buddhist Brotherhood could only hold together by combining for mutual support in various centres, and adopting some sort of monastic government.

It was thus that every collection of monks naturally tended to crystallize into a distinct organized society with certain definite rules.

Naturally, the earliest constitution of each was moulded according to the family pattern. The living Head of every monastery was a kind of spiritual father, while its inmates were his children, and these, again, resolved themselves into two classes: the first consisting of the more youthful members of the society; the second, of those whose more mature experience entitled them to greater respect and reverence. Then, again, some kind of pre-eminence was assigned to individuals who were remarkable for greater knowledge, or sanctity of character.

It is easy to understand, therefore, how it happened that the Saṅgha or collective community of monks was compelled in the end to establish several gradations of rank and position among its members.

The following were soon recognized:—1. The Ṡrāmaṇera or ‘novice’ (who began by being a Ćhela or ‘pupil’ under education); 2. The Ṡramaṇa (also called Bhikshu) or full monk; 3. The Sthavira or ‘elder,’ who was merely superior to others in virtue of his age; 4. The Mahā-sthavira or ‘great elder’ (sometimes called Sthaviraḥ Sthavirāṇām); 5. The Upādhyāya and Āćārya. These last were teachers of different kinds, who received honour in virtue of their knowledge; the two positions of elder and teacher being frequently united in the President of particular monasteries.

No doubt gradations of this kind existed in very early times in India, Ceylon, and Burma. But in India the whole Buddhistic Order of monks passed away.

In Ceylon and Burma, on the contrary, Buddhism has held its own. It may even now be found in a purer form in those countries and in Siam than in any other region of Eastern Asia, although it must be borne in mind that, when it was introduced there, it was grafted on serpent-worship, Nāga-worship[116], demon-worship, and Nath-worship[117], with all of which, as well as with the worship of numerous Hindū gods, it continues to be adulterated in the present day.

The Sinhalese (Koeppen, i. 207, 386) give a list of the first five successive enforcers of discipline (viz. Upāli, Dāsaka, Sonaka, Siggava, and Moggali-putta), and another list of ten successive Sthaviras or elders, beginning with Sāri-putta. These lists are untrustworthy, especially as omitting the great Kāṡyapa.

And I may here state that the condition of Buddhism in Ceylon is a subject which I have had an opportunity of investigating personally. I visited Ceylon in 1877, and had many interesting conversations with intelligent monks, heads of monasteries, and a few really learned men, including a leading monk named Sumaṅgala, who described himself to me as ‘High Priest of Adam’s Peak[118].’

I found, too, that a lofty idea prevails in Ceylon in regard to the status of the monkhood. Theoretically, a true monk is regarded as a kind of inferior Buddha, and revered accordingly. There are boy-pupils, novices, and full monks, as in Burma (see p. 259). The admission-ceremonies resemble those before described (p. 77). Admission confers no priestly powers. Those monks who are Anglicized by contact with our civilization call themselves ‘priests,’ but they are not real priests, and have no sacerdotal functions except teaching, intoning the Law, and preaching. They live as celibates and cœnobites in Pān-sālās (‘houses made of leaves,’ p. 430), or monastic buildings of the simplest structure.

The number of such monks is said to be about 8,000, and their chief duties are supposed to be to meditate a great deal, to perform Baṇa, that is, to recite the Tri-piṭaka with its commentary the Aṭṭha-kathā in a sing-song voice, to repeat constantly the three-refuge formula (p. 78)[119], to teach and to preach, to fast and to make confession to each other on at least four days in every month, at the four changes of the moon called Uposatha (or commonly Poya) days (see p. 84); these days being generally in modern times made to coincide with the Christian Sunday.

True Buddhism does not require monks to perform public religious services in temples. Nor is it the daily practice of monks to set the people an example of worshipping and presenting offerings there. So far as I was able to observe, the duty of visiting temples belongs rather to the laity. The monks receive offerings, rather than present them. As to their dress, it resembles that represented in the Buddha’s images, and ought to consist of three pieces of cloth stained yellow or of a dull yellowish colour. The principal garment is in one piece, but torn and sewn together again, the object being to reduce its value and assimilate it to a dress made of rags. The end of the dress is brought over the left shoulder, and generally so as to leave the right shoulder bare. In some cases both shoulders are covered, or the right partially so.

A good deal of care seems to be taken in Ceylon to instruct the youthful members of the Order in Pāli; that is, in the language of their sacred books (p. 60), and to make them conversant with the sacred texts.

I visited two principal colleges for monks at Kandy, which enjoy a reputation rather like that of Oxford and Cambridge in our own country. One is called Mālwatte, and the other Āsgīrīya. In the former I noticed a large central hall, in which the ceremony of admission to the monkhood takes place.

At Colombo there has been recently a revival of learning, and a modern Oriental College (called Vidyodaya), for the cultivation of Sanskṛit, Pāli, and Sinhalese, has been established under the superintendence of the learned Sumaṅgala, ‘the High Priest of Adam’s Peak,’ mentioned before.

Each monastery in Ceylon has a presiding Head, and generally a temple and library attached, with considerable property in land, but there is clearly no organized hierarchy in the proper sense of the term, and no supreme authority like that of an Archbishop; though it is said that the Heads of the two Kandy Colleges exercise a kind of control over the after-career of the monks they have trained. I found that a certain amount of intelligence and learning exists among the monks both at Colombo and Kandy, but it must be evident to every impartial observer that the habit of living in houses apart from the laity, of repeating the Law by rote, and of engaging in a kind of meditation which generally amounts to thinking about nothing in particular, must tend, in the majority of instances, to contract the mind, induce laziness, and give a vacant and listless expression to the countenance. It may be safely affirmed that the chief religious aim of the Buddhists of Ceylon is to acquire merit with a view to ‘better’ themselves in future states of existence, and that their highest aspiration is to attain to the heaven of Indra (Ṡakra, p. 207). They have no real desire for Nirvāṇa (p. 141), and still less for Pari-nirvāṇa (p. 142).

Passing on to Burma we may remark that although in Burma, as in Ceylon, a pure form of Buddhism has prevailed ever since its introduction by Buddha-ghosha (p. 65), and is still existent, yet we find that the purer system is mixed up, as in Ceylon, with the worship of Nāgas, demons, spirit-gods called Naths (commonly spelt Nats, p. 217), and with a kind of Shamanism derived from the surrounding hill-tribes.

In regard to the gradations of the monkhood a more complete organization exists in Burma than in Ceylon.

To begin with the boy-pupils:—In Burma nearly all boys become inmates of monastic houses (called Kyoung) with the one object of learning to read and write. They are simply school-boys and nothing more. Indeed, until our advent, the monasteries monopolized the education of the country, and to a great extent do so still. The real gradations are as follow:—

1. The Sheṅ or Shiṅ, that is Ṡrāmaṇeras or novices. These are properly youths of at least fifteen years of age (but see p. 307); their hair is cut off and yellow garments are put on for a time.

It should be noted that every male throughout Burma is required to enter a monastery and become a novice for a portion of his life, if only for a single Vassa. This is because the Buddha taught that every true Buddhist ought to conform to his example and become a monk, although he wisely abstained from imposing any irrevocable vows. The whole process is often merely formal, and sometimes only lasts for seven days.

2. The Pyit-seṅ or Pyit-siṅ (sometimes pronounced Patzin) or full monks, who have the title Pungī or Phungī (sometimes spelt Phungee or Phongie), ‘full of great glory,’ when they have been at least ten years members of the order. They correspond to the Ṡramaṇas, and are by Europeans called Talapoins (from their carrying fans of palm leaves). Their dress usually consists of three pieces of yellow cotton cloth.

3. The Hsayā (always a Phungī) or Head of a separate monastery, who corresponds to the Abbot of European countries.

4. The Gaiṇ-ok or provincial Head, who has a kind of episcopal jurisdiction over all the monasteries of a district.

5. The Thāthanā-paing (Thāthanā = Sanskṛit Ṡāsanā) or supreme rulers, who correspond to Archbishops. They superintend all religious affairs. According to Mr. Scott, there are now eight of them.

Occasionally instances occur of hermit-monks who lead solitary lives, and sit motionless in meditation for years.

In Siam the gradations of monkhood are nearly similar to those in Burma, and we learn from Mr. Alabaster that the monastic vow is not binding for life, but can be cancelled at any time. This rule leads to every Siamese man spending at least three months of his life in a monastery.

We have now to pass from Ceylon, Burma, and Siam to Tibet (properly called Bod or Bot or Bhot, Sanskṛit Bhoṭa). And here we leave the simpler forms of Buddhism and are brought face to face with that highly developed system which, though nominally resulting from an expansion of the Hīna-yāna, ‘Little Method,’ into the Mahā-yāna, ‘Great Method’ (p. 158), was really the product of a still further expansion of the ‘Great Method’ and its combination with other creeds.

In truth, Tibetan Buddhism is so different from every other Buddhistic system that it ought to be treated of separately in a separate volume, as Koeppen has done. In his elaborate and excellent work on this subject he has remarked that for the development of a hierarchy no circumstance is more favourable than isolation, and that this advantage was offered in the highest degree by Tibet. Up to the moment of its conversion to Buddhism a profound darkness had rested on it. The inhabitants were ignorant and uncultivated, and their indigenous religion, sometimes called Bon, consisted chiefly of magic based on a kind of Shamanism.

To describe exactly what Shamanism is would be no easy task. The word is said to be of Tungusic origin[120], and to be used as a name for the earliest religion of Mongolia, Siberia, and other Northern countries.

Perhaps we shall not be far wrong in asserting that the two principal constituents of Shamanism are the worship of nature and the dread of spirits.

The inhabitants of Tibet and Mongolia and indeed of other Northern countries believed that spirits, good and bad, influenced the whole course of nature. They held that such spirits were able either to cause or to avert diseases and disasters, to control the destinies of men, and even to decide the fate of the lower animals. Hence it is easy to understand that the chief function of the Shamans, or wizard-priests, was to exorcise evil demons, or to propitiate them by sacrifices and various magical practices. In this way they pretended to prevent storms, pestilences, and other calamities. They were supposed, too, to understand omens and to predict the future by watching the flights of birds, by examining the shoulder-blades of sheep, and by similar devices. Shamanism, in fact, with its Tibetan offshoot, Bon, had much in common with the lowest types of Ṡaivism, Ṡāktism, and Tāntrism, with which the Buddhism of Northern India, Nepāl, and the countries bordering on Tibet, had already become adulterated.

When, therefore, this mixed form of Buddhism advanced from those countries into Tibet, its approach was not resisted as an intrusion. On the contrary, Tibetan Shamanism, although it had possession of the field, was quite ready to meet the new religion halfway. The result was an alliance, or rather perhaps an amalgamation; and this led to the establishment of a complex religious system which I have ventured to call Lāmism[121].

Lāmism, then, is a form of Buddhism which, although based on the Hīna-yāna and Mahā-yāna of India, is combined with Shamanism, Ṡiva-worship, and magic, and has a marked individuality and a peculiar hierarchical organization of its own. This organization has been compared to that of the Roman Catholic Church. Doubtless in its great receptivity Buddhism may have borrowed from Christianity, but Lāmism possesses certain unique features which distinguish it from every other system in the world.

Unfortunately few Europeans have, as yet, penetrated into Tibet, and its sacred literature has been little studied. It follows therefore that the various gradations of the Tibetan hierarchy are not easily described, and only a general idea of them can be given.

We ought first to note the boy-pupil called Genyen, sometimes spoken of as Bandi or Bante (= Bandya[122], a term more properly applicable to monks). Boy-pupils are inmates of every Tibetan monastery; but under exceptional circumstances a pupil may live with his parents. He may be received after seven years of age, and until fifteen, as in Burma (p. 259). He is placed under a full monk, who teaches him and makes him promise to keep the five chief commandments (p. 126). Though sometimes called a novice he is merely under education, and not necessarily a candidate for the monkhood. The real degrees of the Lāmistic hierarchy, as explained by Koeppen and others, are as follow:—

1. First and lowest in rank comes the novice or junior monk, called Gethsul (Getzul), who has been admitted after fifteen years of age to the first stage of monkhood by a Khanpo Lāma or his representative. His hair is cut off and he wears the monkish garments, and has 112 rules to observe. He waits on the full monk, and assists in all functions except blessing and consecrating. He has been compared to the deacon of the European ecclesiastical system, but the comparison is misleading, as shown at p. 76.

2. Secondly and higher in rank we have the full monk, called Gelong (or Geloṅ). He corresponds to the Bhikshu, who has received complete consecration, and is often called by courtesy a Lāma (see note, p. 262), though he has no real right to that title. He is not properly a priest, yet it is certain that in Tibet he often discharges sacerdotal functions. The ceremony of admission to the full monkhood can only be performed after the twentieth year, and binds the recipient to 253 rules of discipline[123].

3. Thirdly we have the _superior Gelong_ or Khanpo (strictly mKhan po), who has a real right to the further title Lāma, and from his higher knowledge and sanctity sometimes becomes a kind of head-teacher (Sanskṛit Upādhyāya or Āćārya). As the chief monk in a monastery he may be compared to the European Abbot; but in respect of consecration he is only a Gelong. Nor are any of the higher grades of monks—so far as the forms of consecration are concerned—higher than Gelongs and Khanpos.

At this point, however, we have to note the special peculiarity of the Lāmistic system, namely, that some of the higher Khanpo Lāmas are supposed to be living re-incarnations or re-embodiments of certain canonized saints and Bodhi-sattvas who differ in rank. These are called Avatāra Lāmas (see p. 190), and of such there are three degrees, which we may denote by the letters A. B. C. as follow:—

A. The lowest degree of Avatāra Lāma. He may be called an ordinary Khubilghan (from a Mongolian word—written by Huc, Hubilghan). He represents the continuous re-embodiment of an ordinary canonized saint (p. 188), or founder of some great monastery. He is higher by one degree than the Khanpo Abbot, as presiding over a more important monastery.

B. A higher grade of Avatāra Lāma called Khutuktu. He exercises a kind of episcopal jurisdiction over a still more important monastery than that presided over by the ordinary incarnated Lāma. He represents the incarnation of a higher Bodhi-sattva or deified saint, but he sometimes claims to be an incarnated Buddha.

C. The highest Avatāra Lāma commonly called a Supreme or Grand Lāma. He is not an incarnation of a mere ordinary Bodhi-sattva (p. 188), but a continuous re-embodiment of either a supreme Buddha or of his Bodhi-sattva. The two notable examples of this highest degree are the Dalai and Panchen Lāmas, who claim an authority, like that of a Pope or Archbishop, over extensive regions outside their own monasteries. They will be more fully described in the sequel (see p. 284).

It may be stated generally, therefore, that the Lāmistic hierarchy consists of three lower and three higher grades. We have, besides, to reckon certain other distinctions of rank, such as those of the Rab-jampa, ‘doctor of theology or philosophy,’ the Ćhorje (strictly Ćhos-rje), ‘lord of the faith.’ These are sometimes associated with the Khanpo or Abbot, though slightly inferior in rank to that dignitary. It is said that the Ćhorje often acts as a kind of coadjutor Abbot. Practically they rank below the incarnated or Avatāra Lāmas. Moreover, in every monastery there are numerous other subordinate officials; for example, schoolmasters, teachers who explain the Law and guide the studies of the brotherhood, precentors or choirmasters, secretaries, collectors of revenue, treasurers, stewards, overseers, physicians, painters, sculptors, manufacturers of relics, of amulets, of rosaries, of images, and in some monasteries-especially those of the Red sect—astrologers, fortune-tellers, magicians (Ćhos-kyong or Ćhos-kyoṅ), and exorcists. The Lāma is not only the priest; he is the educator, schoolmaster, physician, astrologer, architect, sculptor, painter; he is ‘the head, the heart, the oracle of the laity.’

There is also a whole class of mendicant Lāmas, who have vowed to live a vagabond life for a certain number of years. They are better known than some others, for they often find their way into British territory.

When I was staying at Dārjīling, I encountered two specimens of the vagabond class who came from some distant part of Tibet. They called themselves Lāmas, though, of course, they had no real right to that title. They were clothed in ragged garments made up of thirty-two patches of different cloths, and wore thick buskins to protect them from the snows. Then they carried a kind of knapsack or wallet of goat-skin behind their backs, and in their hands a sort of sacred drum or tabour called ḍamaru (see p. 384).

According to M. Huc, these vagabond Lāmas travel for the sake of travelling. They wander through China, Manchuria, Southern Mongolia, Kuku Nūr, Tibet, Northern India, and even Turkestān.

There is scarcely a river which they have not crossed; a mountain which they have not ascended; a Grand Lāma before whom they have not prostrated themselves; a people among whom they have not lived, and of whom they do not know the manners and language.

It should be noted that when an incarnated Lāma is the spiritual Head of a monastery there is generally a temporal Head to manage its affairs.

Then we must not forget that Tibetan Buddhism has also its organized female hierarchy, on the highest steps of which are female Khutuktus and incarnated Abbesses, as well as lower gradations of nuns and novices, living together in their own convents.

The rules of discipline for the whole Lāmistic hierarchy fill at least thirteen out of the 108 volumes of the Tibetan Canon (see p. 272). They do not differ materially from those of other Buddhist countries. The 253 rules of the Pratimoksha-sūtra (see p. 62) are said to contain commands and prohibitions relating to five sides of the monastic life—conduct, dress, food, habitation, and occupation.

It must be borne in mind that early Lāmism, like true Buddhism, had properly no secular priesthood and encouraged no intercourse with the outer world, except for the reception of alms and food from the laity. All grades of the hierarchy were supposed to live together as one celibate fraternity in monastic seclusion, apart from mundane associations. Their only duties were to meditate, recite the Law, and obey certain strict rules of discipline. This strictness of discipline, however, was not long borne with equal patience by the whole fraternity. It soon became irksome to a large section, and the same state of things which arose in early Buddhism and generally arises in all religious communities, occurred in Lāmism. The fraternity of Lāmas became split up into two chief parties or sects—the strict and the lax. We shall see in the end that these two sects were distinguished from each other by the colour of their garments, and especially of their caps, the former adopting yellow and calling themselves Gelug pa or Galdan pa, the latter adopting red (Shamār). Of course the lax or Red-cap sect soon infringed the rule in regard to celibacy, and allowed the marriage of monks under certain conditions, though such marriages seem at first to have been exceptional.

It is said, indeed, that in Nepāl, under modern Gorkha rule, the celibate occupies a lower position than the married monk, to whom the services in the temples are committed. It is said, too, that the Lāmas of Sikkim and other northern countries constantly have children living with them, though they do not admit them to be their own (p. 152). Yet, for all that, celibacy is the rule, and nominally, at any rate, the great majority of Lāmistic monks in Eastern Asia are unmarried cœnobites, who live together in monasteries.

Certainly in no other country in the world are monasteries so numerous or on so vast a scale as in Tibet and Mongolia (see p. 426).

And, indeed, in all probability it was the difficulty of enforcing discipline and order in these immense establishments, without some method of securing obedience to a presiding Head acceptable to all the inmates, that led to that strange re-incarnation or ‘Avatāra’ theory which is one chief distinguishing feature of Lāmism.