Burma Part 6

Beneath the central tower is the shrine, before which a constant stream of devotees succeed each other in prayer. This contains an enormous bra.s.s image of Buddha, 12 feet in height, thickly plastered with the pilgrims' offerings of gold-leaf. Behind the temple are the sacred tanks, whose green and slimy water is alive with turtles, too lazy or too well fed to eat the dainty morsels thrown to them by the onlookers, but which are pounced upon by hundreds of hawks, who often seize the t.i.t-bits before they reach the water.

The courtyards are, as usual, thronged, and pastry-cooks and story-tellers, soothsayers and musicians, provide refreshment and amus.e.m.e.nt to the ever-moving crowd of happy people, at whom we never tire of looking.

And now, having seen something of the princ.i.p.al paG.o.das, with their crowds of worshippers or loiterers, let us take one glimpse of the ancient city of Pagan.

Splendidly placed upon a commanding site on the river-bank, Pagan was at one time a populous and wealthy centre. To-day it is the city of the dead, and the domes and pinnacles of its temples, which cover an area of 16 square miles, remain silent monuments to its former greatness. Save for a few priests and scattered families of the poorest of the people, its population has disappeared centuries ago, and the land, once fertile, is now covered with aloe, cactus, and thorn, while an air of weary heat and desolation envelops it. Some idea of its size may be formed when I tell you that a thousand of its paG.o.das are known by name, while as many more are little but a heap of ruinous brickwork.

Many of its temples are of the greatest historical interest. The Ananda, built 800 years ago, is larger than St. Paul's, and its elongated dome and innumerable pinnacles render it as graceful as it is imposing. There are other temples even larger, while the picture facing page 80 will give you some little idea of the beauty and interest of the Shwe Zigon.

Throughout the country temples abound, and in lonely places where no temple has been built, the lofty "tagundaing" marks some holy spot.

You will find no statues to her Kings in Burma, but in every temple, in little wayside shrines, and even in the most unfrequented wilds, the Burmans have erected images of Buddha, founder of their faith.

Nearly one-third of the world's population are Buddhists, and this fact alone would seem to show how beautiful is the religion they profess. Buddhism was founded by an Indian Prince called Gautama, about 600 years before the birth of Christ. This Prince, though heir to a kingdom, and surrounded by every luxury, left his palace and his beautiful wife and their little son, to become a wanderer in the search for truth, and for six years he lived as a hermit in the wilderness, attended only by a few disciples. One day, while seated beneath a "bo" tree, lost in contemplation, revelation came to him, and from that time he became a preacher, striving to raise men and women to his own lofty and pure standard of what life should be.

Few Europeans really understand Buddhism, but many of its principles we can all appreciate. Thus, men are taught truthfulness, purity, obedience, and kindness, which forbids the giving of pain to any living creature. Charity, patience, humility, and the habit of meditation are early instilled into the minds of the boys, who, without exception, spend at least a portion of their lives as inmates of a monastery, and with the priests and novices are not ashamed to collect the daily offering of food.

In their consideration for animals, their love for their children, and great respect for age, as well as in their consideration for each other, the Burmans act well up to the beauty of their faith; for a beautiful religion it is, beautifully expounded in Arnold's "Light of Asia," which I hope many of you will presently read.

It is not difficult to understand how their religion, combined with their own happy, contented natures, and the enervating effect of climate, renders the Burmans little able to withstand the pressure from without which has lately been brought to bear upon them.

Largely content with what Nature provides for them, and without social grades to spur them to ambition, their sports and races and amus.e.m.e.nts of many kinds occupy the chief attention of the men, who quickly succ.u.mb to their more energetic and businesslike rivals from India or China. The women, more capable and rather despising the idleness of the men, are more and more p.r.o.ne to marry among other races, while Western civilization also is doing much to destroy the primitive charm of the people.

Sad it is to think that the Burman as a pure race is slowly disappearing, and there are few, I think, who know them but will view this prospect with sincere regret. But if it is inevitable that this picturesque and lovable people must be in time replaced by others, at least their beautiful country always will remain.

And now, as I close this chapter, there recurs to my mind a pretty picture which embodies so much of the spirit of the country that it may well form our last peep at Burma.

Far away in the jungle on the crest of a lonely hill stands a ruined paG.o.da. The white ornamental plaster-work which once beautified it has long since disappeared, and in the rents and fissures which seam its rich red brickwork venomous serpents hide.

The niche which formerly contained a Buddha is unoccupied, but, as though to soften its decay, kindly creepers have covered its rugged exterior with a bower of foliage and flowers, while the leogryphs which once marked the entrance to its enclosure are buried in vegetation. All around are trees of many kinds, which tower above the jungle, among which large and beautiful b.u.t.terflies flit among the flowers, while birds of gay plumage gambol among the tree-tops to the distant song of the bulbul. It was a pretty scene, but sad in its loneliness, to which a touch of pathos was added by the figure of a solitary priest praying before the empty shrine. Wondering what had brought him so far from any known habitation, I watched him long as he prayed. Just as the sun set and the day closed he plucked a lovely flower from the scrub and placed it reverently on the shrine where Buddha once had stood, and as I turned my pony's head in the direction of my distant camp, the slowly-retreating figure of the "hpungi"

became lost in the glory of the sunset.

THE END