have made great efforts to capture Burma. They have established noble
plants in the way of church edifices, hospitals, and schools. The
leper asylum of the Romanists is an impressive and worthy provision
for the housing and treatment of hundreds thus afflicted. The
cathedral and school of the Anglican Church show a most praiseworthy
estimate of the needs of this great province of the British Empire,
and breakfasting with Bishop Fyffe, the metropolitan of Rangoon, gave
us a pleasing impression of his kindly Christian spirit. The
Methodist Episcopal Church has also its representative here, and all
of these evangelizing agencies are supplemented by the work of the
Y. M. C. A., the Y. W. C. A., and the Salvation Army. Yet it is not
too much to say that the Baptists have first place in Burma, both in
church-membership and in education. We were the first Christian
denomination upon the ground; we have leavened the country with our
influence; our Mission Press has furnished the Bible in several
different languages to the people of Burma; our schools are the most
advanced in grade and the most numerously attended; our churches are
most nearly self-governing and self-supporting. We have great reason
to thank God and take courage.
All this is the growth of a single century. It was in the year 1813 that
the Judsons arrived in Burma, and it was six years after that the first
Burman convert was baptized. In 1828 the first Karen convert followed
Christ. These two were the first-fruits from the two leading races of
Burma. Since their baptism there has sprung up a flourishing Christian
community which embraces representatives both of the indigenous races of
Burma and of the immigrant peoples from India proper, from China, and
from other lands. The Baptist churches in Burma to-day, as their
official representatives inform us, enroll members gathered from
eighteen different nationalities, besides members of the Anglo-Indian or
Eurasian type. "The entire Christian community in Burma, according to
the Government Census of 1911, numbers 210,081; of which number, 122,265
are Baptists, while 60,088 are Roman Catholics, 20,784 are Anglicans,
1,675 are Methodists, and the remainder are distributed among smaller
sects. That one Protestant convert of 1819 has become an army of one
hundred and fifty thousand."
We must add to this numerical statement the facts that a corps of
Christian leaders has been trained and put into service; that native
Christians have found their way into influential positions as
magistrates, township officers, teachers of schools, inspectors of
police, and clerks in all departments of the government. Christian men
are prominent in business and professional circles, as traders,
contractors, brokers, physicians, lawyers; and the Christian character
is everywhere recognized and honored. A church, to a large degree
self-propagating, has been planted in Burma. A complete system of
missionary education has been organized. Modern philanthropic work for
the relief and prevention of physical ills has been transplanted to
Burma. The Sunday School, the Christian Endeavor Society, the temperance
movement, are common methods of Karen and of Burmese church activity. An
extensive Christian literature has been provided, in addition to the
printing of the Bible in all the main languages of the country. In fact,
a Home Mission Society, for the evangelization of the natives in the
remoter sections of the country, is in active operation. When we
remember that all this is the product of a hundred years, in a land
where only a little while ago Christianity was a persecuted religion, we
praise God for the result.
I must mention two features of my visit which claim special attention. I
refer to the work of the collegiate and other schools, and to the
hospitality of non-Christian gentlemen. We have inaugurated in Burma a
graded system of education, under government inspection, and leading to
full university training. Nothing in my travels interested me more than
to see hundreds of boys and girls of Burmese and Karen families, in
which girls have hitherto been unable to read or write, singing
Christian hymns from books with the music and words before them. The
great need of France, as the Emperor Napoleon once said, was good
mothers. It is equally true of Burma, and little children carry back
into idolatrous homes their love for Christ, and their juvenile protest
against heathenism. I addressed several audiences of a thousand each,
where the full half were girls and women, no longer secluded and
ignorant, but prepared to assume responsibility as the mothers and
trainers of a new race of Burmans. In these schools, exclusive of the
seminaries and Bible schools, there are enrolled more than 30,000
pupils, who pay annual tuition fees of more than $80,000. The Morton
Lane School at Maulmain, the Eurasian School at the same place, the
Kemendine School in Rangoon, the Girls' School at Mandalay, have each of
them about three hundred scholars, and they are sending out influences
which will in a few years revolutionize the civilization and the
religion of Burma. Other schools of not so high a grade are doing
equally faithful work. Our Baptist College at Rangoon is caring for the
higher grades of education, and is preparing hundreds of young men for
teaching and for government service. It was inspiring to address a
thousand of its scholars, under the direction of Principal David
Gilmore, D. D., formerly of Rochester. The endowment of such an
institution in this heathen land would be an achievement worthy of some
Christian millionaire in America. And the same thing may be said for our
Burman Theological Seminary at Insein under Dr. John McGuire, and our
Karen Theological Seminary under Dr. W. F. Thomas.
That walls of partition are breaking down under the influence of
Christianity, was made plain to us by invitations to take breakfast with
a noted Parsee barrister, and to take afternoon-tea with a wealthy
Mohammedan gentleman, both of them citizens of Rangoon. The courtesy and
intelligence of these hosts of ours will always be a delightful memory,
while their novel and beautiful homes revealed to us what art and nature
can do when united in other than Christian surroundings. Our Parsee
barrister had obtained his education largely in England, and the
Mohammedan gentleman had enjoyed intercourse with the best of our
American missionaries. The Moslem friend still maintained a sort of
seclusion for his wife, and only the ladies of our party visited her in
her private apartments. But when we rose to depart, he surprised us all
by asking that we offer prayer, and he endorsed the prayer that was
offered by uttering a hearty "Amen." As we stood ready to go, it was
easy to pray for a blessing upon the house and the family which we were
leaving behind us. Respect for Christianity, and a conviction that
Christian education is the great need of the future, are already
permeating the higher classes of Burman society.
The climax of our stay in Burma was reached when Lord Chelmsford, the
viceroy of India, visited Rangoon, and the lieutenant governor invited
us to an afternoon-tea in his honor. The pandal, or reception pavilion,
erected at the dock where the viceroy landed and where he was received
with a salute of thirty-one guns, had been filled that morning by the
élite of Burman society, fifteen hundred in number, and the address of
welcome had drawn from the viceroy a fitting response. All Rangoon was a
wonder of decoration. Arches with Saracenic domes built by the Moslems,
pagodalike structures built by the Buddhists, Parsee towers, and Hindu
temples, appeared at many street-crossings, and one long avenue was
lined on either side with elevated rows of benches upon which were
seated thousands of children from the schools. The viceroy passed in
triumphal procession between files of soldiery, with cavalry for a
body-guard and a dense mass of humanity thronging the sidewalks, looking
on and cheering. At night, the streets and public buildings were
brilliantly illuminated, and the great pagodas glittered like gems from
top to bottom, encircled with rings of electric lights.
We reached the Government House, the scene of the afternoon lawn-tea,
through clouds of dust raised by four lines of vehicles that struggled
for precedence. At last we emerged in the grounds before the stately
edifice where the lieutenant governor resides, and we were presented to
Lord and Lady Chelmsford. The viceroy and his wife were simple and
gracious in manner, and they made us feel that we were conferring as
well as receiving honor. A group of forty dancing-girls, in antique
Burmese costumes, were giving a performance on one part of the emerald
lawn, while on another white-robed servants were setting before the
guests all manner of refreshments. So, amid music and feasting, the
day ended. With the oncoming darkness the viceroy and his lady retired
to their apartments in the great government residence, and at the same
time the whole company joined in singing "God Save the King!" It was a
striking close to our experiences in Burma, for fully half of the
guests that day were Hindus and Mohammedans, each one of them arrayed
in gorgeous garments and decorated with jewels. It left in our minds
the fixed impression that the hold of Great Britain upon Burma and
indeed upon all India is largely due to the Christian character of
British rule, and that missionary work of evangelization and of
education is to be given large credit for India's present universal
loyalty to the British Crown.
This chapter would not be complete without special mention of the dinner
of our Rochester men. We number thirteen of them in Burma, and they fill
very important places in the work of missions. Two are graduates of our
university, but not of our seminary--Mr. F. D. Phinney, the
superintendent of our Mission Press, and Dr. David Gilmore, the acting
principal of our Baptist College. With the wives who graced the company,
seventeen persons sat down at table. Singiser presided; McGuire gave us
welcome; Dudley, Cochrane, Rogers, Hattersley, Crawford, added spice to
the occasion. The rewards of a teacher sometimes come late, but they are
very sure. When I saw that gathering of missionary workers, and
remembered Geis, Cope, and Streeter, who were prevented from coming, I
felt that my labor had not been in vain in the Lord, since Burma is
being transformed by Rochester.
And I shall never forget a final reception given us at an afternoon-tea
by Dr. D. W. A. Smith, the president emeritus of the Karen Theological
Seminary at Insein, and by his estimable wife, to whom I had had the
privilege of presenting a memorial album, on behalf of all the
teachers and missionaries, on the occasion of her seventy-sixth
birthday. Doctor Smith and Mrs. Smith are honored and beloved by all
who know them. Like myself, he has served the cause of theological
education for forty years, and has now retired for partial rest. I am
glad that my name can be in any way connected with his, for I am sure
that his works will follow him.
V
MANDALAY AND GAUHATI
These two places are types of two different religions, the Buddhist and
the Hindu. Mandalay in Burma is the representative of Buddhism; Gauhati
in Assam illustrates Hinduism. The hill of Mandalay is crowned by a
pagoda so unique and splendid that it draws pilgrims from every part of
Burma; the hill at Gauhati is similarly attractive in Assam. I have
thought that a description of the two, and of the worship at each of
them, might serve to fix in memory the differences between these leading
religions of the British Empire in India.
Mandalay was the terminus of our third excursion into the more remote
parts of Burma. From Rangoon as a center of operations, we went first to
Bassein, where our Burman and our Karen schools for boys and girls are
beautifully located. Bassein is one hundred and ninety-two miles west of
Rangoon. Maulmain, our second object of interest and visitation, is one
hundred and seventy-one miles distant from Rangoon on the south and
east. Here our great missionary, Adoniram Judson, began his work, and
here are two of our chief schools for girls.
Mandalay is farther removed from Rangoon than are either Bassein or
Maulmain. It lies three hundred and eighty-six miles to the north. It
was a former capital of Burma. It contains the palace of King Thebaw,
the foundations of which are reputed to have been laid upon human
sacrifices, and from which the king was driven after a long and fierce
British assault. Ancient tradition decreed that only sacred edifices
should be built of brick. Thebaw's palace is therefore of wood, though
it is gorgeous with carving and gilt. Surrounded by a wide and deep
moat, there is a walled enclosure of more than a mile square, whose
gateways are picturesque in the extreme, and which to all but modern
cannon would be an impregnable fortress.
But it is the Hill of Mandalay that most excites the traveler's wonder
and admiration. Upon its summit, commanding a far-reaching view of the
winding river and of endless paddy-fields, with mountains in the
distance, stands a pagoda which is in many respects more remarkable than
the great Shwe Dagon pagoda at Rangoon. This one at Mandalay might
indeed be called four separate pagodas, on successive heights, and
connected with one another by a straight stairway in part hewn out of
the solid rock and in part built of masonry. The stairway consists of
eight hundred and twenty-two steps, in four different series, each
series leading to a broad open platform on which rises a separate temple
with a colossal image of Buddha in its center.
From below, this long stairway, with its railing of brick or concrete
and its quartet of gilded pagodas shining in the sun, is a picturesque
and unique object. The crowning pagoda seems almost impossible of
access. It is set upon such a height, however, for the purpose of making
the ascent to the altar difficult, and so of adding to the "merit" of
its worshipers. The stairway, even when cut in the rock, has often
forty or fifty steps so narrow, that the ascent from platform to
platform is actually precipitous. The entire series of steps, from the
bottom of the hill to the top, is roofed over with sheets of
corrugated iron, until the whole looks like a covered way to the
clouds. Going up seemed an exciting adventure. My physician had
forbidden my climbing, and my wife declared that she could not attempt
the walk. The problem became serious.
The difficulty was removed by bringing from the missionary's house two
solid teak-wood armchairs, to serve us after the sedan fashion. Long
poles of bamboo were lashed underneath them, and, after we had seated
ourselves, eight men, four for each chair, lifted these poles, with
their superimposed American pilgrims, upon their shoulders. Then began a
triumphal march, which at every step of the ascent threatened to become
a funeral march. The bearers all had bare feet, feet twice as long as
the steps were broad, so that they practically went upward on their
toes. A single misstep would have caused disaster--nothing less than an
avalanche of coolies, chairs, and pilgrims. But my secretary guarded me,
the missionary guarded my wife, and we went up in safety.
Going upward some two hundred steps, we rested upon a platform with a
pagoda which enshrined the statue of a Buddha perhaps twenty feet in
height and covered with gold-leaf from top to toe. Any worshiper can
prove his faith by clapping a bit of gold-leaf upon the statue. The
result is that the hands and feet of Buddha are thick with encrusted
gold. He holds out his hands in seeming invitation. Two hundred feet
more brought us to a second platform and a second pagoda in which Buddha
also appears; but now he is in the attitude of teaching. Still another
ascent, and we come to a pagoda in which Buddha stands, a towering form
fifty feet in height, with his finger extended in expectation toward the
plain. And a final ascent brings us to a colossal Buddha, now reclining,
as if his work were done and he were entering upon the bliss of Nirvana.
At this last stage there is also a series of waxwork figures which
symbolize the vanity of life and of human desire. Four forms represent,
first, the babe at its mother's breast; secondly, the youth full of
vigor; then the older man haggard with care; and finally, the corpse,
upon whose vitals the birds of the air are preying.
From the summit of this Mandalay Hill, another pagoda, almost as famous,
is to be seen. I mean the Kuthodaw, in the plain below. This is four
hundred and fifty pagodas in one, all but one of them little edifices,
each with a small sitting statue of Buddha within it. An even more
remarkable thing is that each of these diminutive pagodas has also
within it a portion of the Buddhist scriptures, engraved upon a solid
block of stone, and all of these together make up the Tripitaka, upon
which the Buddhist pins his faith. In the center of the grand enclosure
stands a beautiful white pagoda, with wreaths of gold about its graceful
spire. The long rows of little temples, with their attempt to preserve
the holy book in an enduring form, are a monument to the faith of King
Thebaw's uncle who planned it. Few people, however, read the writing
upon the stones. For any practical result it is necessary to have the
law of the Lord written upon the tables of the heart.
The descent from Mandalay Hill was even more hazardous than the ascent,
for we were in continual danger of slipping from our chairs and knocking
over the bearers. We were profoundly grateful when we reached the level
ground again and found that we had survived. Our experiences with
Buddhism were instructive. The saffron robes of the omnipresent priests
and monks undoubtedly cover much laziness and much willingness to depend
for a living upon others. But every Burman boy expects to spend some
time, though it may be only a week or a month, in a monastery. There he
usually learns to read, though his main work is that of memorizing
certain portions of the Buddhist scriptures. So far as I have been able
to learn, there are no positive immoralities connected with Buddhistic
worship. The example of Buddha has in it some worthy elements, such as
the renunciation of earthly and sensual ambitions. But Buddhism, for all
that, is a pessimistic religion. It denies to man the existence of a
soul, and it gives him no hope for anything but practical extinction.
Buddha no longer lives to help his worshipers. In the struggle with sin,
there is no atonement for the transgressions of the past, and no
prospect of perfection in the future. Hence the preaching of Christ,
crucified for our sins and ever present with his people, is to the
Buddhist a revelation so novel and so entrancing, that it captivates and
transforms him. Christianity humbles pride, but it saves the soul. It
shows the impossibility of obtaining salvation by merit of our own, and
our absolute dependence upon the grace of God. Christianity awakens
gratitude, and leads to unselfish devotion. It turns a Saul into a Paul,
and makes him a missionary and a hero.
Gauhati is the present capital of Assam, as Mandalay was once the
capital of Burma. Like Burma, Assam is overrun by Hindus, who seek
employment in the tea-plantations and in every other species of labor.
These Hindus have brought their religion with them, and in Assam the
animistic religions of the natives very commonly give way to the more
poetic and philosophic faith of the Hindus. In Gauhati the Hindus have
established a temple which attracts thousands of pilgrim worshipers from
all parts of Assam and indeed of India, as the pagoda of Mandalay
attracts pilgrims from all parts of Burma. The Gauhati temple, like that
at Mandalay, is set upon a beautiful hill not far from the town,
approached only by a long and stony climb, though with many a rest-house
on the way. This temple and its worship so illustrate Hinduism, that a
slight account of its origin and beliefs seems to be necessary.
The god Siva had a goddess for a wife. Displeased with her
unfaithfulness, he seized her, and with her as his captive he flew
through the air, and as he flew, he cut her in pieces. The middle
portion of her body fell to the earth on this hill, and consecrated
forever this spot near Gauhati. In the temple and grove of this hill the
goddess is worshiped by such rites as will please one of low and
licentious tastes. In fact, the rites of this temple are said to be the
most obscene of any in the British possessions. There are reputed to be
a thousand "virgins," who subsist in and upon the temple. The extent to
which they are virgins may be judged by the number of fatherless
children clinging to their robes or carried about. These "virgins," as
is well known, are "married to the god of the temple"--which may mean
married either to the priests of the temple, or to the worshipers of the
temple. I asked a missionary whether these "virgins," after their term
of service, could contract an ordinary marriage. I was answered that the
girls were "married to the temple for life." One of these unfortunate
women led by the hand a beautiful little daughter. On being asked who
the father was, the mother replied: "How should I know? I am a
temple-woman." So the gratification of illicit passion becomes a
religious act. The residents of Gauhati are free to visit the temple,
and so, alas! are the eight hundred students of the English college only
two miles away. Who can measure the corrupting influence of this temple
upon the lives of the people over a wide area in Assam?
A student of the college, who was also a priest of the temple, met one
of our party on his visit. This student-priest was a young man of more
than ordinary intelligence. He endeavored to palliate the evil of the
temple-worship, and to clothe its acts with spiritual significance. He
pointed to the spot where goats and buffaloes were offered in sacrifice,
and he claimed that this offering was made in expiation of sin. Such an
explanation of Hindu sacrifices is altogether futile. The sense of guilt
is so dull in Hinduism, that sin is little more than external and
physical impurity, and may be simply failure to conform to a prescribed
act of ceremonial worship. The true meaning of sacrifice for sin has, in
India, been derived solely from Christian preaching. This particular
student had many an opportunity to hear such preaching, and the
knowledge of atonement which he tried to mix with his Hindu theology was
probably gained from missionary sources. It was an illustration of the
incidental and indirect ways in which Christian missions are permeating
these Oriental lands, and are forcing these old religions to adopt some
of the fundamental ideas of Christianity. These ideas are misunderstood
and misstated, so that they become in large part forms of error. But
notwithstanding, they may pave the way for a fuller knowledge of the
truth, and for the entrance of Christ into the heart and into the life.
VI
CALCUTTA, DARJEELING, AND BENARES
Calcutta is the largest city of India. It numbers more than a million
inhabitants, of whom 600,000 are Hindus, 300,000 are Mohammedans, and
less than 100,000 are Christians. The name of the city is derived from
Kali, the goddess-wife of Siva, the Destroyer; and her temple is one of
the most filthy and disgusting in all India. In this temple I saw one of
its many priestesses cutting into bits the flesh and entrails of a goat,
which had been offered in sacrifice, in order that the poorest worshiper
might have for his farthing something bloody to present at the altar. It
was the altar of a fierce, cruel, and lustful goddess, whose black and
ugly image could be dimly seen within the shrine. A stalwart priest
followed me with hand outstretched for a contribution. It was a novel
sensation to hear him utter, in excellent English and with seeming
reverence, the words, "the great goddess Kali," as if no one could doubt
her power. It reminded me of "the great goddess Diana," whom all Asia
and the whole world once worshiped, but whose temple is now an
indistinguishable heap of ruins. The worship of a goddess so vengeful
and sensual as Kali throughout India, a worship both of lust and of
fear, shows how ineradicable is the religious instinct, but how
perverted it may become when existing apart from divine revelation.