Ceylon and Burma were for many centuries Buddhist kingdoms with a sovereign as patron and supporter of the monks and very often with members of the royal family amongst the great abbots. Buddhism has indeed depended much upon royal patronage, and in these days when kings are rare it is of special interest to get a glimpse of a modern Buddhist kingdom which is not unlike those of the past. Let us study a great festival in Siam where the king's own brother is Head of the Order and where he himself is a staunch patron of Buddhism.
2. The Thot Krathin Festival.
Some time between the eleventh and twelfth moons his majesty visits the temples round Bangkok which are under his royal patronage. For weeks past every household in Siam, from that of the King to that of the poorest peasant, has been busy "laying down holy cloth" or making patchwork robes for the monks, that the letter of the old commandment "be ye clothed in rags" may be observed, and the monks be supplied with their year's clothing. At the same time offerings of bedding, furniture, and food are made and great merit is acquired by the faithful. The King in his splendid barge of state, with its prows shaped like dragons, its sixty oarsmen, its canopy of cloth of gold, sets out for one of the great Wats or temples; he is seated on his throne, and wears a golden crown, and about him are numerous little princes. Arrived at the shrine his retainers carry the bales of cloth and other offerings into the temple, and then the King himself with due ceremony and amidst barbaric music and military salutes, comes down from the barge and lights five candles which stand upon the table prepared for his offering. Then, burning incense, he bows to the image of the Buddha, to the sacred books written on strips of palm-leaf, and to the Order of Monks; he is "taking refuge" in the Buddhist Jewels. He then reverently asks the abbot to accept him as a lay-adherent, and to allow him to keep the Five Precepts, not to kill, not to steal, not to commit sexual sin, not to lie nor to drink strong drink. And if it be a holy day he will also take the vows of a monk, not to eat after midday, not to watch theatrical shows, nor use perfumes, nor sleep on a high luxurious bed. Then as he offers his gifts the monks accept them, crying "Sadhu" (Amen or well done), and distribution is made according to their rank. So amidst their blessings he bows again to the Three Jewels and makes a solemn departure to another shrine.
3. The King and Pali Learning.
The present King, whom we may call for short King Mahamongkut (he has more names than the Hohenzollerns), is a graduate of Oxford, a man of the world, and a great patron of Buddhist scholarship. This has been a tradition of his house for centuries and in no small degree the present interest in Pali learning in Western countries is due to the enthusiasm of the ruling house of Siam, which has presented splendid libraries of the sacred books to many universities and temples. The King summons the monkish candidates for degrees in Pali learning to undergo examinations every three years; and for nine days in the comparatively cool weather of the early part of the year makes a royal festival in their honour, during which they are undergoing an examination which increases every day in stiffness. Those who survive to the end are given the degree Pareean ek, or "first-class honours," and with it goes a small pension; those who drop out before the end are given second-, third-, or fourth-class degrees. So the knowledge of the sacred books is kept alive and some of these Siamese scholars reach a remarkable degree of proficiency. Their influence has been potent in a renaissance of Pali learning in Burma and Ceylon.
4. Buddhist Education.
In Siam as in Burma the monks are the elementary schoolmasters. The boys all spend some time as novices, during which they not only learn the rudiments of the religion but reading, writing, and arithmetic. As in Burma, very little is done for the education of the girls, though this is steadily improving owing to the splendid work done by mission schools.
5. The Temples or Wats.
These Siamese pagodas, fantastic and gay with gold and sky-blue tiles, are of four grades, those built by the King and dedicated to him, those built by the princes, those built by the nobles, and lastly those built by the common people, usually by subscription organised by the monks or by some enthusiastic laymen. Merit gained in this and similar ways has been called "The Sum and Substance of Siamese Buddhism": there is some truth in these generalisations as regards the whole of Southern Asia. But in Siam as elsewhere there is genuine devotion to the religion of Buddha, and the human heart is not as calculating as this sentence implies. Moreover, there is considerable attempt to modernise the religion to fit the new age, and many of the people follow the King in believing that it can be made the basis for a modern state, and can unify and uplift the peoples. All that helps to build up a nation is welcomed in Siam, and Christianity therefore has an open door here as in Ceylon and Burma. Burma is tolerant, but Siam desires the friendship of Western peoples, and being independent is freer to develop along its own lines. Let us now attempt to summarise our impressions of the Buddhism of these lands of Southern Asia by describing other typical scenes in each.
1. The Cremation of a Singhalese Abbot.
A great Singhalese abbot has passed away. It is a national event. The hillside near Kandy is thronged with great companies of monks in every shade of yellow and brown, while around them surges a sombre sea of the faithful laity. In the centre of the huge assemblage is the funeral-pyre, draped in white and red. Standing beside it, a monk is telling in solemn and mournful tones of the greatness and goodness of the departed, who, though he had not become worthy of Nibbana, had his feet surely set upon the upward path leading to a good rebirth in so-wan, a heaven. Then amidst solemn chanting and the wailing of flutes and throbbing of drums he applies a torch to the pyre. While the people bow their heads and cry "sadhu" (Amen), the body turns to ashes. Then solemnly and silently the great throng disperses, the lay people to take up the ordinary duties of life, the monks to meditate upon its transient character and unreality. And here a young novice, to whom the dead man has been very dear, stays weeping, until the last embers die down and night comes swiftly on.
2. The Funeral Rites of a Burmese Monk.
Another funeral scene. It is that of a Buddhist monk in Burma—a Hpongyi. The whole countryside is present. In clothing of exquisite silk, resembling a brilliant swarm of butterflies, the people surround the great catafalque, blazing with tinsel and gold leaf, on which lies the embalmed body of the monk. After a time the coffin is taken down and a programme of merry-making begins. The young bloods of the village to which the monk has belonged, range themselves in two carefully picked teams on either side of it. Then begins a tug-of-war with the body in its coffin, the victorious team treating the defeated to drinks, and to side shows at the little booths which cluster round, awaiting custom. These and other contests make a glad and joyful scene at which all the people rejoice, for has not the good man been released from this transient life (which, nevertheless, is good and satisfying while blood is hot and youth endures)? Has he not returned to a life of glory, and won much merit for his own folk and for all the faithful?
In due time the body is restored to its resting place on the funeral pyre, the fire is lighted, and the whole mass flares up in flame and smoke, consuming not only the body, but along with it the decorations, including paintings of numerous demons, among whom may be an Englishman with a gun! Only demons could kill for sport! When it is consumed, the crowd disperses with shouts of merriment, well content, not least among the others the relatives of the departed. A good show has been staged, the dead has been honoured, the family name has been distinguished, and everybody is satisfied. If for the next year or more the family exchequer has been sorely depleted, still "it is the custom," and every one expects to follow it. Some one has well said that Buddhism in Burma is a cheery and social affair, "from festive marriages to no less festive funerals." I confess to an admiration for this cheerful view of death, even if some of its expressions are bizarre! It is less pagan than our "blacks, and funeral obsequies."
3. A Similar Scene in Siam.
The Funeral of a Siamese Prince.—A nephew of the King has died, and his funeral sermon is being preached by another royal Prince, who is also a monk, and who is true to type and to the orthodox Buddhism of his race. "As kinsmen welcome kinsmen returning after long sojourn in far countries, so do good deeds welcome the good as they enter the other world. And what are good deeds, but the unselfish effort to advance the good of others? All must be left behind as we enter the Gate of Death; but as a shadow follows the body so do purity and simplicity of heart and deed steal after us, and minister to us in that world beyond. As a flame is our mortal life, and if there be no fuel it burns no more. We know not when it may die down, for all that has a beginning has also an end, and transient are all things. And as we may take with us only virtue, shall we not cherish and ensue it?"
We are reminded of the picture by G. F. Watts, "Sic Transit Gloria Mundi," in which another prince is seen upon the bier, his crown, his books, his winecup laid aside; and over his bier are the words, "What I spent I had, what I had I lost, what I gave I have." It is sound Buddhism, and every word of this sermon of the royal monk is drawn from the Dhammapada, accepted in all Buddhist lands as the very words of the Buddha, himself the prototype of a long line of kings and princes in many lands, who have been proud to wear the Yellow Robe.
4. The Secret of Buddhism's Influence.
Which of these funeral scenes (chosen because Buddhism plays almost its chief part at such times) is most true to type? It is a perplexing question. Buddhism has from the very beginning been chiefly a religion for monks, calling men and women to leave the world. It was never exactly optimistic, and yet another permanent root of its remarkable power over humankind has been that often men and women who obeyed possessed a sense of discovery, of hopefulness, of sheer joy; especially strong in its golden age, the first five centuries of its existence. There was something vernal in the air. "In joy we live, hating none; let us live in the midst of those who hate, unhating; in the midst of those who ail, let us live in perfect health; having nothing, yet we possess great riches." Such is the spirit of the early sangha (monastic community). And when we turn to the Buddhism of to-day we find that it retains these two dominant characteristics: this blending of sadness and quiet joy. Even in sunny Burma the old people and the monks seem sad at times, and even in Ceylon and Siam the ordinary folk are fairly cheerful as they go on pilgrimages or make their offerings to monk or image.
