Every single town and village of Siam is crowded with temples, or "wats," as they are locally called. Compared with similar religious institutions in England, their number seems to be out of all proportion to the number of the population. Their variety of size and method of decoration, as well as their number, is sufficiently conspicuous to make even the most casual observer enquire why they abound to such an extent. And the reason for this superabundance of religious edifices is not to be found in the immense number of people who are popularly supposed to believe in the teachings of Buddha, but rather in a very prevalent, but degraded form of one of the tenets of an originally pure doctrine. For though it is usually stated that five hundred millions of people are believers in, and followers of "The Light of Asia," no one who has lived in a Buddhist country will venture to assert that half that number are regular attendants at the temple on the Buddhist Sunday, or that the vast majority of the people do anything more than passively accept the superstitions of their forefathers without ever enquiring or even caring whether they are the true teachings of Buddha or not. Ask any person you meet a few questions about the sage who propounded the faith that they are supposed to hold, and it will be speedily discovered that even those who are most assiduous in their attendance at the temple, and who are most charitable in the offerings they give to their priests, know little of the life and less of the teachings of him whom they apparently worship. It will be at once evident to the readers of the foregoing chapters of this book, that the people whose customs are here treated of, though nominally Buddhists, and classed en masse as such in Western calculations of the number of those who worship the great Indian teacher of old, are guided in their daily lives, not by the principles of an old world faith, but rather by a number of powerful superstitions gathered at different times from the different nations by whom they are surrounded, or with whom they have come into close contact, which superstitions have little if anything to do with Buddhism. It is not possible to call them Buddhists at all, if the term is to be used as comparable to the term Christian as applied to the believers in Christ in Western lands. The great moral precepts of their religion are not taught to them, are unknown to them, and it is very questionable if the Sanskrit words for benevolence, gratitude, charity, and kindred virtues have any parallel in the ordinary everyday vocabulary of the people. Even if such words do exist, they are only understood by the learned few, and would be as utterly incomprehensible to the great mass of the people as Greek and Latin.

Temples then, not being required as houses of continual or devout worship, why do they abound, not only in the capital, but in every village, and on the banks of every river and canal throughout the length and breadth of the whole kingdom? The explanation is found in the fact that the people believe that in order to make merit during this life to save themselves from misery in some future existence, they must among other things follow "the religion which teaches alms-giving." "Make merit." That is the sum and substance of their religious faith and worship. As every reader of Buddhism knows, the soul is said to pass through many stages of existence before it reaches the mysterious region of Nirvana, and that it is possible for any soul to pass even beyond the shadowy confines of this debatable territory and finally attain the perfect condition of Buddhahood. At death, the merit and demerit of the soul are balanced, and the next condition of the wandering soul determined according to a system of debit and credit. The wicked king may be re-born as a slave or even pass into the body of a toad. The soul of a slave may be re-born in one of royal degree or may even ascend to an habitation in the celestial spheres. Hence it behoves every living being during this life upon earth to make as much merit as it possibly can, and as the custom of alms-giving is held to be a very profitable method of investment for the future, it is widely practised by king and peasant alike, each giving to the priests or to those of his fellow-men who may be in distress, according to the abundance of his possession of this world's goods. That portion of Buddha's teaching which deals with the law of cause and effect in its relation to the progression or retrogression of migrating souls, has been lost to all except the few, and a mere superstition reigns in its stead.

An English resident in Siam had a servant who frequently absented himself from his duties. On each occasion, when questioned by his master as to the cause of his absence, he replied, "Please, sir, I went to make merit." Said the Englishman, perhaps a little too irreverently, "At the rate you are making merit, I should think you would be an archangel when you die."—"Ah no," replied the servant, "I don't want to be an angel. I don't want to get to Nirvana. I shouldn't like to make enough merit to get to Nirvana; I only want to make just enough merit to be born back again into this world as a royal prince, with lots of money, plenty of wives and heaps of fun."

"Merit" is made in many other ways besides alms-giving and feeding the priests. A woman who was robbed devoted the lost money to merit-making, and gave it charitably away. Even the scattering of limes containing lottery tickets at important cremations and public ceremonies is considered merit-making. Tradition relates that when Buddha was being sorely tempted by the evil Mara, he appealed to the fiend to answer whether or not, he, the tempted one, had not in his lifetime on earth been conspicuous for generous alms-giving, and the world made affirmative answer for him by a gigantic earthquake. And so the modern Buddhist believes that his merit-making and his alms-giving will cry out on his behalf when he passes from this earthly life into some other condition at present unrevealed to him.

Even their reluctance to kill any living thing is merely another form of the same belief. That it is wrong to destroy the life of anything, be it that of a seed or that of a snake, for the reasons taught by Buddha, they do not seem to know. But they have it firmly established amongst their current superstitions that to take life would be an act of demerit that would be reckoned against them in the future, and so they abstain from killing, though they will readily eat what others have destroyed. They justify their fishing operations by saying that they do not kill the fish, but that they only pull them out of the water, after which they die a natural death.

Now one of the most ostentatious ways of purchasing future happiness is the building of a "wat." There the priests will find a home; there the people may adorn the images, make frequent offerings to Buddha, and engage in other meritorious works; there the children may be taught to read and write; and there all men may see a lasting evidence of the wealth and devotion of the builders. And so temples were built year by year without ceasing, until there are hundreds more than would be wanted even if every man, woman, and child in the land were regular worshippers. Time lays its heavy hand upon these perishable structures and works their ruin. Seeds sprout in nooks and crevices and their growing roots burst open the walls and roofs. The torrent rains lend their powerful aid in the work of destruction, and in the course of the builder's lifetime the sacred building may become a ruin. But until quite lately, these "wats" were never repaired; they were built and left to crumble. The continued erection of temples has been suspended during late years, partly owing to the influence of the king, who has wisely urged that the repairing of an old and falling "wat" is a more useful and equally effective way of making merit than the building of a new one.

The word "wat," or temple, includes many structures. They frequently stand in extensive grounds, shaded by giant banyans, and surrounded by strong, well-built walls or fences. They are refuges for destitute animals as well as for men seeking retirement. The litter of pariah puppies that must not be destroyed, although not wanted, is deposited inside the temple grounds, there to be fed on the scraps that remain when the monks have finished their midday meal. The central building or church where the idols are kept, the prayers recited, and the priests ordained, is called the "bote." Round about it are the houses or cells inhabited by the monks. These may be of wood or stone, of an orthodox cell-like pattern, or they may be ordinary native houses specially erected in the precincts of the "bote" for the accommodation of the priests. They should possess no furniture, and rarely do so.

All temples may be divided into two classes, called respectively Wat Luang and Wat Ratsadon. The first are endowed and dedicated by royalty, while the second class comprises all others. The land on which these buildings are erected becomes for ever the property of the chapter, and cannot be taken away by law, or sold, or in any way disposed of for secular purposes. The central buildings are chiefly of a uniform oblong shape, and are built of wood, brick, or stone, the outer walls being washed or painted white. A colonnade runs round the outside, supported by strong, square pillars of teak-wood, that lean inwards from the base to the roof. The roof may be built in one, two or three tiers, but is always covered with differently coloured tiles arranged in symmetrical patterns. Gold-leaf is lavishly used in the ornamentation of the gabled ends of the roof, and a new temple, with the mid-day sun shining full upon it, presents a very brilliant appearance, especially when seen through the bright green foliage around it. The walls are pierced by a number of windows which are closed by strong teak shutters. The doors of the poorer temples are of plain, unvarnished, undecorated teak, and though solid, are not handsome. In the wealthier "wats" the decoration of doors and windows is often very beautiful. The doors are either ornamented with very intricate designs worked in gold upon a black background, or with scenes in the life of Buddha worked in mother-of-pearl upon a foundation of shining black lacquer. The interiors of the numerous "botes" are variously adorned. There may be only dirty walls, or brilliant mosaics, elaborate designs or painted pictures. Some of the pictures are extremely funny. In one of the temples in the capital, the artist who has been entrusted with the internal decorations has mixed together in ludicrous confusion, scenes from the life of Buddha, events in Hindoo mythology, and rough reproductions of old European drawings. He has placed a number of European ladies and gentlemen of the time of Louis XIV, on the side of a hill, where they are enjoying themselves with dance and song. It is a rural picnic. Under the hill is a railway tunnel with a train about to enter, and on the summit is Buddha in a contemplative attitude brooding over the whole, but owing to the faulty perspective of the drawing, it is impossible to state whether Buddha is contemplating the scene of merriment, or brooding over the curious handiwork of the designer.

One image of Buddha in a sitting posture occupies the place of honour at the far end of the temple, facing the door. The number of smaller images varies considerably from half a dozen to several hundreds. In one of the temples in the old capital of Ayuthia there are over twenty thousand. They are covered all over with gold-leaf, and the eyes of the larger ones are made of mother-of-pearl. Some of the most barbarous laws in the Siamese civil code relate to the profanation of idols. They are never enforced now, and any need for them must at any time have been very small.

Section 48 of the above code is: "If a thief steal an image of Buddha, and use various devices for removing its ornaments, such as washing or smelting, let him be put into a furnace and be treated in exactly the same way as he treated the image, and thus pay for his wickedness."

Section 49 says, "If any thief strip a Buddha image of its gold or gilding, let him be taken to a public square and a red-hot iron rubbed over him till he is stripped of his skin, as he stripped the image of its gold, and thus pay for his crime. If a thief scratch the gold from a Buddha image, pagoda, or temple, or sacred tree, let his fingers be cut off."

Heaped round the altar are the offerings of the merit-makers,—old bottles, Birmingham-made vases, clocks, china, saucers, joss-sticks, looking-glasses, bits of coloured glass, and many other articles of equally trivial value. In addition to these things for the adornment of the altar or the use of the temple, the priests also receive food, clothes, money, mosquito netting, boats and small pieces of native furniture. After a big alms-giving day the interior of the sacred pile looks something like an auction room awaiting the commencement of a sale.

The "Prachadee" is a conspicuous feature of all ecclesiastical architecture. It is a brick or stone monument, round at the base, but tapering to a long thin spire at the top, as shown in several of the illustrations in this book. It represents the primitive tope or relic mound, and covers either a relic or an image of Buddha. When a genuine relic cannot be obtained, an imitation of one answers the same purpose. Around the "bote", the most holy of all the buildings, are placed eight stones, one at each of the eight chief points of the compass. They are called "bai sema," and are cut in the shape of the leaf of the ficus religiosa or Bo-tree. They mark out the boundaries of the consecrated part of the "wat." They are erected when the temple is first consecrated. Eight round smooth stones are first buried a little way below the ground, together with the relic or image. Holy water is sprinkled over them, and across the boundary thus formed the spirits of evil intent have not the courage to intrude. Small, solid, cubical platforms of brick are built over the stones, and on the platforms are placed the gilded or painted stone representations of the sacred leaf. These again are covered with a canopy of stone cut in a similar shape, and often elaborately carved or inlaid with mosaics.

Every monastery has its bell-tower, whose chimes call the priests to prayers, tell when the sun has crossed its mid-day path, and "toll the knell of parting day". The towers are of wood and have three stories, in each of which is placed one bell. The bells are painted pale blue, and ornamented with broad plain bands of gold-leaf, which run round the rim, and also divide the surface into four equal segments. They are remarkable for their purity of tone, and are not to be equalled by the bells usually found in Western churches. The tone is soft and sweet, and at the same time so penetrating that it can be heard for long distances. The bells are not rung, but are beaten. The first few strokes are given slowly and gently, then they gradually increase in rapidity and force, till the bell resounds under a torrent of blows, the tone becoming louder and louder, but never jarring or discordant.

Not only at every temple, but in many secluded spots at the entrances to lonely canals, and on the edges of the distant jungle, rest-houses are built for the use of wanderers. They are called "salas", and to build a "sala" is a work of merit. As the erection of one of these rest-houses involves less expense than the building of a temple, they are therefore even more abundant than the temples. They consist simply of a wooden platform raised a few feet above the ground by strong posts. Several pillars round the sides of the platform support a thatched or tiled roof. There are no walls and no rooms. Here the traveller, be he native or foreigner, may hold a picnic, may eat, rest, and sleep without expense or interruption. Madmen and lunatics choose the rest-houses near the temples as places where they can live quietly without fear of molestation.

The description given above would apply to the majority of Siamese temples. But it is worth our while to look in detail at a few of the more noted temples in the capital.

The royal temple, Wat Prakow, stands within the circumference of the outer wall that surrounds the palace and the government offices, and on account of the part it plays in important State ceremonies, and because it is the king's own place of worship, it is far more elaborate than any of the other temples of the country. At this temple the water of allegiance is taken and the oath of allegiance is sworn, and in the same building was held the requiem service for the late Crown Prince. A central "prachadee" stands in the courtyard of the temple, surrounded by many similar structures of lesser height and beauty. The large one in the centre towers high above all the surrounding buildings, and is said to be covered with plates of gold. It certainly looks like a solid mass of that precious metal, and at sunrise and sunset when it catches the roseate hues of the rising or the setting sun, its golden surface can be seen from afar, shining and glittering like a second sun itself, above the coloured roofs of the temples and the white or many-tinted spires that are associated with it. The smaller relic mounds are covered with mosaics of glass and enamel roughly set in plaster. The bits of glass and enamel are not laid in the plaster so as to form a level surface, but here and there they stand out in tiny rosettes, branches and flowers, and fruit and animals. At a distance the rude character of the workmanship is totally hidden, the tawdry appearance of the material is completely lost, and as the uneven surfaces reflect the brilliant light of the sun, the spire-capped shrines form a series of glittering satellites around the central spire of gold.

From the temple courtyard the roof of the large and imposing modern palace can be seen. In the centre, and at either end of the triple-coloured roof, is one of those crown-shaped spires so common in all state and ecclesiastical buildings in Siam. It has been stated that "upon a nearer approach to the magnificent spectacle of Wat Prakow, so dazzling is the effect that it is hard to convince yourself that you are not actually standing before buildings set with precious stones." Now this is not by any means true. The temples of Buddha in Siam are like Buddhism itself, seen to the greatest advantage when distance has lent its proverbial enchantment. Even as the moral teaching of the great philosopher when viewed through the spectacles of Western professors, is a very different creed to that followed by the people, so the temples when seen through the golden mist of early morning from a distant point of view, are brilliant and beautiful beyond description, though on a nearer view, the perishable and paltry character of the material of which they are constructed destroys the appearance of magnificence, leaving, however, in the place of earlier impressions, a feeling of wonder at the marvellous skill of the people who can produce such striking effects from such tawdry material. Near to the gilded "prachadee" is the actual "bote" used by the king, surmounted by a similar spire, which is overlaid with sapphire-coloured plates of glass and porcelain; while a little distance away stands the larger temple, set in parts with mosaics of emerald green upon a gilt background. There are several smaller spires of ruby red, bright yellow, or snowy white, standing amongst this mass, whose tapering summits are exceedingly slender and graceful in form, though the raised flowers and decorations that surround their bases are made of nothing but common porcelain and glass. One really valuable "prachadee" is constructed of pure white marble, and stands upon a heavy base supported by seven elephants cast in bronze. In various places near the doors of the temple, or the gates in the walls surrounding the courtyard, there are a number of enormous, grotesque figures, some in helmets, and some in old-fashioned chimney-pot hats. They are evidently of foreign origin, and the sculptor has produced an extremely comical effect by so cutting the eyes as to give them an unmistakable leer or wink. They represent demons, and are supposed to guard the entrance to the sacred edifice. Each figure leans upon a gigantic staff, and gazes into the faces of all those who enter the courtyard or buildings. There are also griffins in stone, the representations of powerful kings who keep the world from being entirely captured by the spirits of evil. The stone lions are the emblems of Shakyamuni in his character as king of men and beasts. A large, bronze figure of the sitting Buddha rests opposite a row of these quaintly carved images of men and animals. It is seated upon a pedestal of marble under a canopy fashioned in imitation of a lotus leaf. The lotus leaf is the Buddhist lily, even as the Bo-tree is the Buddhist cross, and the forms of both these plant structures appear again and again in temple decorations. The lotus is especially noticeable in the lotus-shaped capitals of the huge teak pillars that support the roofs and colonnades of the holy "bote."

The courtyard which contains all these vari-coloured and fantastic shrines and images, is paved with slabs of white stone and marble, which reflect the heat and light of the sun with oppressive intensity. Other creations in marble, bronze, stone, and wood, set with the same mosaics of cheap china and common glass, and representing Europeans, fishes, dolphins, and fabulous monsters are scattered profusely but irregularly amongst the larger and more conspicuous monuments. The roofs are covered with coloured tiles. There is a central rectangle in orange, yellow or red, with its edges set parallel to the roof, while round it run several borders in red, blue, and green. Owing to the height of the buildings these coloured roofs are always so far removed from the eye of the spectator that they never lose their artistic appearance. The gables are of wood or metal, and curve upwards at the ends into a peculiar ornament, which is so common in civil as well as religious architecture as to cause much speculation as to its meaning. It has been described as being symbolical of many things, but it most probably represents the head of the Naga or king of snakes. Round the edges of the roofs of several of the constituent buildings of this royal "wat," are hung many small sweetly toned bells, whose silvery voices may be heard in the farthest corners of the enclosure as they swing to and fro with every gentle breeze. The windows and doors are deeply sunk in the extremely thick walls. They are covered with black lacquer and look as though they were made of ebony. Designs in mother-of-pearl have been worked into the lacquer, while the hinges and fastenings of the separate shutters have been richly gilt.

The floor of the chief building is covered with matting made entirely of woven silver wire. The roof is lofty, and is made of teak. The room is of the usual oblong shape, but at the further end a magnificent altar-like shrine stretches from side to side. The sides of this valuable altar are covered with gold-leaf and gilded glass, which lose a little of their dazzling brilliancy, though they gain in depth of colour, in the subdued light of the interior. Small prachadees in clusters stand at the same end of the temple, all heavily gilt. This Buddhist temple is unique amongst Siamese temples in containing objects of real value. Inside there is nothing tawdry and cheap. Everything is genuine as becomes the gift of a king. On a square table at the back, supported on the tall conical hats of twelve large figures, are seated seven figures of Buddha, in pure solid gold. One hand of each of the figures is raised and pointing upwards. On every finger and thumb of the uplifted hand glitters a king's ransom in rings of emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, while in the centre of each palm shines and flashes a rosette of diamonds. Away up in a dim recess towards which the seven hands are pointing, there is an image of Buddha, often said to be cut out of one enormous emerald. In reality, it is made of jade. This stone is reported to be of priceless value. It cannot easily be examined by visitors as it is partly hidden in shadow, but with a pair of opera-glasses the features are easily distinguishable. The idol is said to have fallen from heaven into one of the Laos states. It was captured from these Northern people by its present owners. It possesses three diamond eyes of great value, the third of which is set in the centre of the forehead. It has several times been lost or stolen, but has always been recovered.

There are many rare and precious vessels for the temple services, such as cups, incense burners, and candlesticks made of gold and studded with jewels, but unfortunately the workmanship is in some cases very defective, and the stones have lost a great deal of their value by being badly set and cut. One or two museum cases are to be seen, containing offerings made by royalty or wealthy noblemen. Round the base of the altar are a number of ebony tables holding the usual vases, wax flowers, and clocks, but in this temple they are all of real value.

The walls and ceiling are painted in native style and colour, with scenes from the life of Buddha, and from the Hindoo myth of Ramayana. They are executed with that curious absence of perspective common to Oriental pictures, but nevertheless many of the figures are full of life and action. In particular, the elephants are usually accurately drawn, though strangely coloured.

We may fitly close this chapter with an account of one of the country temples given by H. Warington Smyth in his "Notes of a Journey on the Upper Mekong."

"At Wieng Chan, on the north bank (of the Mekong), the remains of the great Wat Prakaon are very fine; the latter rises from a series of terraces, up which broad flights of steps lead, and is of large proportions. The effect of height is increased by the perpendicular lines of the tall columns which support the great east and west porticos, and which line the walls along the north and south; the windows between the latter being small, and narrower at the top than at the bottom, also lead the eye up. A second row of columns once existed, and the effect must have been very fine. Now the roof is gone, and the whole structure crowned by a dense mass of foliage, as is the case with all the remains of smaller buildings not yet destroyed. One very beautiful little pagoda at the west end is now encased in a magnificent peepul tree which has grown in and around it, and has preserved it in its embrace. There are remains of several deep water-tanks; and the grounds, which were surrounded by a brick wall, must once have been beautiful. But the best thing at Wieng Chan, or the old city, as they call it, is the gem of a monastery known as Wat Susaket. It is a small building, the Wat itself, of the usual style, with a small lantern rising from the central roof. The walls are very massive, and, with the height inside, the place was delightfully cool; all round the interior, from floor to roof, the walls are honeycombed with small niches in rows, in which stand the little gilt images, looking out imperturbably, generally about eight inches in height.

"Round this building, outside, runs a rectangular cloister which faces inwards, and here, at one time, the monks were living amongst the statues which stand round the walls, many of these three and more feet high, while the walls too are ornamented with niches similar to those inside the main building. In the centre of each side there is a gateway surmounted by a gable, there being also similar ornaments at each corner. The beauty and retired air of the court inside could not be surpassed, and the effect of the green grass, the white walls, the low-reaching, red-tiled roofs, and the deep shadows is charming; there is nothing flat, nothing vulgarly gaudy, and very little that is out of repair. And here, as is most noticeable in the remains of the other buildings about, the proportions are perfect. In this the ruined remains of Wieng Chan surpass all other buildings I have seen in Siam, and bear witness to a true artistic sense in the builders."