AMONG THE TEMPLES.
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.
[Illustration: A VILLAGE TEMPLE.
_Page 281._]
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.
[Illustration: "SALA" IN A JUNGLE CLEARING.
_Page 286._]
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.