Chapter C: Heavens of formless entities (3)

It is alleged that formerly the departing Lāma, before he transferred himself to another body, was in the habit of revealing where and in what family he would be re-incarnated. Or occasionally it happened that children of two or three years of age called out suddenly, as if impelled by some spiritual influence, ‘I am a living Buddha, I am the chief Lāma of such and such a monastery.’

Or more commonly the sacred books were consulted; or the official soothsayers gave their opinion.

But the usual rule was that at the death of the Dalai Lāma the interpretation of the traditions and oracles about his re-birth and the duty of discovering the family in which he was to appear were committed to the Panchen Lāma. When the Panchen Lāma himself died, the Dalai Grand Lāma did the same service for him.

It was only natural that the holy land of Tibet, and especially the holy city of Lhāssa, should have been most fruitful in re-incarnations, and should even have supplied foreign countries with them.

When Messrs. Huc and Gabet were travelling in Mongolia they were about to pass a certain Lāmistic convent without stopping, when a Lāma came out and invited them to enter, that they might have an opportunity of paying adoration to the saint enthroned within. ‘Our saint,’ he said, ‘is not a mere man. In our small convent we have the happiness to possess a living Buddha! Two years ago he deigned to descend from the holy mountains of Tibet, and he is now seven years old.’ These living Buddhas, according to M. Huc, are very numerous. Sometimes a clever Lāma builds a small temple and attracts a few disciples. Then by degrees his reputation increases. Other Lāmas build their cells near the temple, and bring it into fashion, and proclaim him to be a living Buddha.

It is said, indeed, that some spiritual Heads of the Hierarchy in Lhāssa have contrived to instal their illegitimate children in the Headship of distant Lāmaseries, so that occasionally the supposed living Buddha is really the son of some Tibetan Grand Lāma.

In the present day the Emperor of China exercises so great an influence in the nomination of both the Dalai and Panchen Lāmas, that the co-operation of the Lāmistic priesthood has become little more than a form. Still the form is gone through, and the following description (chiefly resting on the authority of Koeppen and Huc) may give some idea of the whole process.

When the Dalai Lāma dies, or rather when his soul—which consists of a portion of the essence of Avalokiteṡvara—has cast off one body with the object of entering another, the names of all the male children born at the time of his death in Tibet have to be sent in to the great monastery of Lā brang at Lhāssa, and those parents who have reason to suspect that their children are re-incarnations, are obliged to notify the fact.

A true decision cannot be arrived at until three children have been found, or rather (as is practically the case) until three candidates have been set up for election who are accepted by the Chinese Government or its representatives.

The first stage in the process of election is to write the names of these three children on lots, and place them in a golden urn. Then the Khutuktus assemble together in solemn conclave. For six days they remain in retirement. During all that period they are supposed to fast and to be engaged in repeating prayers. On the seventh day, the leading Khutuktu draws a lot, and the infant or child whose name comes out is proclaimed Dalai Lāma. The Panchen Lāma and the representatives of China must be present at the time[132].

In a similar manner, the Panchen Lāmas, Khutuktus, and ordinary Avatāra Lāmas are elected.

The Mongolian mode of election is thus described by M. Huc. (The quotation is not literal, and is abridged.)

The election and enthronization of the living Buddhas is extremely
curious. When a Grand Lāma is ‘gone away,’ that is to say, is dead,
the event is by no means made a matter of mourning in the convent.
There are no tears or regrets, for every one knows that the living
Buddha will soon re-appear. The apparent death is only the
commencement of a new existence, a new link added to a boundless and
uninterrupted chain of successive lives—a simple palingenesia. While
the saint is in the chrysalis state, his disciples are in the greatest
anxiety, and the grand point is to discover the place where their
master has returned to life. If a rainbow appears, they consider it as
a sign sent to them from their Grand Lāma, to assist them in their
researches.

Every one then goes to prayers, and especially the convent which has
been widowed of its Buddha is incessant in its fastings and orisons,
and a troop of chosen Lāmas set out to consult the Churchun or diviner
of hidden things. They relate to him the time, place, and
circumstances under which the rainbow has appeared: and he then, after
reciting some prayers, opens his books of divination, and at length
pronounces his oracle; while the Tartars who have come to consult him,
listen on their knees with the most profound devotion.

‘Your Grand Lāma,’ they say, ‘has returned to life in Tibet—at such a
place—in such a family;’ and when the poor Mongols have heard the
oracle, they return full of joy to their convent, to announce the
happy news. Sometimes the living Buddha announces himself, at an age
when other infants cannot articulate a word; but whether his place of
abode be found by means of the rainbow, or by this spontaneous
revelation, it is always at a considerable distance, and in a country
difficult of access. A grand procession is then made, headed by the
king, or the greatest man in the country, to fetch the young living
Buddha. The Mongols often go through incredible fatigue and hardships,
traverse frightful deserts, and sometimes, after being plundered by
robbers, stripped of everything, and compelled to return, set out
again with undiminished courage. When the living Buddha is found,
however, he is not saluted Grand Lāma without a previous examination.
Doubtless, the simple Mongols are in this matter often the dupes of
those who have an interest in making a Grand Lāma of the baby. The
title of the living Buddha having been confirmed, he is conducted in
triumph to the monastery of which he is to become Grand Lāma; and as
he passes along, the Tartars come in great troops and prostrate
themselves before him, and bring him offerings. As soon as he arrives
at the convent, he is placed on the altar, and every Tartar, from the
highest to the lowest in the land, bows down before this child. There
is no Tartar kingdom which does not possess one of these living
Buddhas; but there is always another Grand Lāma, chosen among the
members of the royal family, with whom the real government of the
convent rests. The famous maxim ‘Le roi règne et ne gouverne pas’ has
been of old application among the Tartars. [See note p. 306 of these
Lectures.]

It should be noted that the Lāmistic community like to keep up the fiction of these re-incarnations; and therefore they pretend to ascertain the genuineness of every re-birth by clear signs. Hence before a re-born saint is installed, his identity is established by his passing a kind of examination before a solemn assembly, thousands of witnesses being present.

Some of the books, clothes, and sacred or secular utensils which the dead Lāma was in the habit of using, are brought and mixed with others. The child is then asked to pick out the true ones, or he has to answer questions as to the events in his previous state of existence. If the replies are satisfactory, he is installed as the re-born Lāma amid great rejoicings.

Koeppen asserts that no positive information as to the relationship between the Dalai and Panchen Lāmas is forthcoming. Some maintain that both hierarchical systems developed simultaneously. Some say that the Panchen Lāma of Tashi Lunpo was the first Grand Avatāra Lama, while others hold that the elevation of the Panchen Lāmas took place later, and only resulted from the increase in importance of the Tashi Lunpo monastery in which they reside (p. 284).

The Dalai Lāmas may be enumerated as follow:—

The first is said to have been Gedun grub pa (otherwise pronounced Gedun dubpa). Probably he was the nephew and chief pupil of the Reformer Tsong Khapa. It was he who founded the monastery of Tashi Lunpo in 1445, and he is by some therefore called the first Lāma of that monastery. His birth is supposed to have occurred in 1391 or 1419, and his death in 1473 or 1476. Then he was born again after ten months as Gedun GyamThso (or Gedun Yamtso), the second Grand Lāma, who is held by some to have been the real founder of the Avatāra system of perpetual succession by reincarnations. He filled the Dalai Lāma Chair from 1474 or 1476 to 1540 or 1542.

The third embodiment took place in 1543, and bore the name Sod nam GyamThso (or Sod nam Yamtso), ‘sea of virtue.’ He was the first who really took the half Mongolian title of Dalai Lāma. Moreover, he laboured hard to spread Buddhism among the Mongolians, and founded the first Great Lāma’s Chair in Mongolia.

In his fourth re-birth, the Dalai Lāma took the name of Yon Jan Yam Thso, ‘ocean of merit,’ and lived up to his 14th year (until 1602) in Mongolia, when he moved to Lhāssa.

The fifth Dalai Lāma was the great Navang Lobsang (strictly Ngag dBang bLo bSang), ‘wise speaker or eloquent sage,’ who is the most celebrated of all. According to some he was the first real Dalai Lāma, those who preceded him being merely supreme Lāmas of the Yellow school. His career lasted from 1617 to 1682. He was a kind of Lāmistic Innocent. But his long minority led to political disturbances. In the end, Navang Lobsang overcame all difficulties, and as a sign that the power of a king of Tibet had been made over to him, built on one summit of the triple hill Potala, where once the royal castle had stood, that palatial monastery—that wonderful Lāmistic Vatican—in which he still resides in his continual re-incarnations (see p. 330).

Indeed the successors of Tsong Khapa had good reason to be satisfied with their position at that time. They had overshadowed the Red sect, or reduced it to comparative unimportance. They had won over Mongolia, which greatly aided them in their struggle for dominion. Monastery after monastery arose there. The sacred books had been translated into the Mongolian language, and thousands of Mongolians came every year with rich presents to worship the re-born Lāmas at Lhāssa, or sent their sons there for education.

When Navang Lobsang died, his death was concealed by the Regent, and great intriguing followed. In the interregnum two Dalai Lāmas were successively set up and deposed. These are not reckoned in the list of legitimate Dalai Lāmas.

Then a child was chosen, who had all the signs of being called to the Lāmaship. This was Lobsang Kalsang Yamthso; he is reckoned the sixth Dalai Lāma. He died in 1758, after gaining some repute as a writer.

The seventh Dalai Lāma was Lobsang Jampal (or Champal) Yamthso, who is believed to have died in either 1805 or 1808.

The next was Lungtog YamThso, who died a mere infant in 1815 or 1816. He had three child-successors, who were all killed as minors by the acting Regent. The last child was made away with in 1837.

If these three children are reckoned, Ge Mure YamThso must be regarded as the eleventh Dalai Lāma. He died in 1855. The twelfth was born in 1856, and seems to have lived till 1874.

The discovery of the present Dalai Lāma is thus related by Sarat Chandra Dās.

After the death of an incarnate Lāma, his soul is said ordinarily to
remain in the spiritual world for a space (called Bardo) of at least
forty-nine days. In 1875, one year after the demise of the late Dalai
Lāma, Thinle Gya-tsho, the Regency and the College of Cardinals at
Lhāssa consulted the celebrated oracle of Nachung Chhoskyong about the
re-appearance of the Dalai. The oracle declared that the Grand Lāma
could only be discovered by a monk of the purest morals. Accordingly
the Shar-tse Khanpo of the Galdan monastery, who was well known for
his virtuous character and his profound knowledge of the sacred books,
proceeded to Chhoikhor Gya, where he sat in profound meditation for
full seven days. On the night of the last day he saw a vision, in
which a voice from heaven directed him to go and see a miraculous
sight in the Ya-tsho lake of Chhoikhor Gya. Awaking from his sleep,
the Khanpo went to the lake, where in the crystal-like water he saw
the incarnate Grand Lāma sitting in the lap of his mother and caressed
by his father. The house with its furniture was also visible. All on a
sudden this mirage-like appearance disappeared, and he heard the
neighing of a horse. So much of his dream being fulfilled, he
proceeded on the horse to the province of Kong-po, and, on the way, he
happened to call at the house of a rich and respectable family of the
district of Tag-po. Here he recognized the house, the family, and the
child he had seen in the lake, and at once declared that the real end
of his journey was obtained. On his report the Government officials
and the College of Cardinals, headed by the Regent, visited Tag-po and
escorted the infant with its parents in great pomp to the palace of
Rigyal near Lhāssa. The princely child was only one year old when he
was discovered. He is now ten, and bears the name of Nag-wang Lo-ssang
Thub-dan Gya-tsho, ‘the lord of speech, and powerful ocean of wisdom.’
(This extract is abbreviated.)

A similar list of the Panchen Lāmas who have reigned at Tashi Lunpo has not been given. When Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās was there in August, 1882, the then Panchen Lāma died from grief (so it was said) because he had not been allowed to consecrate the young Dalai Lāma, according to previous custom.

The next important Lāma in great Tibet (after the Dalai and Panchen Lāmas) is the Head Lāma or Khanpo of the monastery of Galdan (Gahdan)—the oldest monastery of the Yellow sect, founded in the year 1409 by the reformer Tsong Khapa (see p. 278), who was the first Abbot. It once had 8,000 inhabitants. The body of Tsong Khapa is said to be there visible, preserved from corruption and miraculously poised in the air. Prints of his hands and feet and his bed are also shown to pilgrims (see p. 441).

But the Grand Lāma of the Yellow school who comes next in rank to the Dalai and Panchen Lāmas is the Head of the monastery of Kurun (also written Kuren) or Urga, in the land of the Khalkhas in Mongolia. His perpetual re-incarnation began in the sixteenth century. He is generally called by the Mongolians Maidari or Gegen Khutuktu, but his proper title is Je Tsun Dampa (or Tampa) Tāranātha. A Tāranātha Lāma (born in 1575) completed a work on Buddhism in the Tibetan language in 1608 (Markham’s Tibet, xlviii).

There is also a celebrated Avatāra Lāma at Kuku khotun in Tartary who is a perpetual re-incarnation of Mañju-ṡrī Khutuktu.

Indeed Mongolia is a kind of paradise in which the monks of Lāmism enjoy perennial bliss, for the Mongolians are simpler and more full of faith than the Tibetans.

Another Grand Lāma is the Dharma-rāja of Bhutān (p. 297), and another Great Lāma is at Peking in China (see p. 299).

As to Ladāk (the capital of which is Le or Leh), this is the most western part of Tibet that has adopted Lāmism. Aṡoka’s mission penetrated to Ladāk, so that the whole land in king Kanishka’s time (that is, in the first century) was Buddhistic. Moreover, the Buddhist religion (both Red sect and Yellow) has maintained itself there until now, while in the neighbouring countries of Kashmīr, Kafirstān, the Panjāb, etc., it has been displaced by Brāhmanism, Islām, and Ṡāktism, etc. We have little knowledge of the ancient history of Ladāk. It has a large and ancient monastery at Lāma Yurru, near the Indus—in which is an enormous image of the cloven-headed[133] Avalokiteṡvara—another at Hemis, and another at Hanle. (See Cunningham’s ‘Ladāk,’ Mrs. Bridges’ ‘Travels,’ and p. 433 of this volume.)

In Tangut, all round the blue lake (Kuku Nūr), Lāmistic Buddhism has been the established religion since the end of the ninth century. It seems to have taken a great start upwards in the succeeding four centuries, for it was in the province of Amdo, as before mentioned (p. 277), that the great Reformer commenced his career. In the North-eastern corner close to China is the Lāmasery of Kunbum (Kumbum), where Tsong Khapa was born. When his reputation increased, Lāmas from all parts made pilgrimages there. Sarat Chandra Dās states that it is inhabited by 9,000 Lāmas of the Yellow sect. Koeppen says that it has a University with four Faculties, and an important printing-press, and that at the head of it is an incarnated living Buddha. The Lāmas from Amdo are said by Koeppen to be more highly-gifted, intelligent, learned, and religious than the monks of other monasteries. They are intrusted in Lhāssa with the most important offices, and are employed in the education of the infant representatives of Buddha. Amdo is still almost a terra incognita.

Passing on to Nepāl—this country probably adopted Buddhism before the beginning of the Christian era. It is said that Aṡoka’s missionaries found their way there; but there is no proof that Buddhism really flourished in Nepāl till the seventh century, and even then it never existed except in conjunction with Brāhmanism. It is probable that Buddhist monasteries and Brāhmanical temples always adjoined each other. Indeed since the immigration of the Hindūs into Nepāl, and especially since the invasion of the Gorkhas, there have always been two nationalities, two languages, two literatures, two religions in contact with each other.

In recent times Brāhmanism has gained the predominance as the State-religion, and Buddhism has degenerated, though it is everywhere tolerated.

It is a question whether the spiritual supremacy of the Tibetan Grand Lāma has ever been acknowledged in Nepāl proper. But, according to some, the Dalai Lāma formerly had a legate or representative in the largest and oldest Buddhistic temple of Khatmandu—the temple of Svayambhu-nāth, who is here at once Ādi-Buddha and Ṡiva. The Dalai Lāma also claimed the ownership of this temple, which, he maintained, had been dependent on him from the earliest times. But it is certain that, even if the Tibetan Legate ever possessed the authority arrogated by him, he was compelled by the Gorkhas to abandon his claims. Nevertheless the Tibetan tribes now in Nepāl still adhere to Buddhism. The same may be said of the Newars, who are the original possessors of the great valley of Nepāl. They profess a kind of Buddhism, though they reject the Lāmas, and have priests of their own, whom they call Bandya (see note p. 263).

With regard to Bhutān (capital town Punakha) it is said to have become Buddhist about 350 years ago. Its spiritual ruler and incarnated saint is called Dharma-rāja (or Lāma Rinpoche). He belongs to the Red-cap school, and calls himself Chief of all the monks of the Dugpa sect. His subordination to the Dalai Lāma is little more than nominal. The temporal Governor is called Depa-rāja (Deb-rāja).

The following titles engraved on the Dharma-rāja’s seal of office will give some idea of his pretensions:—

‘I am the Chief of the realm. Defender of the Faith. Equal to Sarasvatī in learning. Chief of all the Buddhas. Head-expounder of the Ṡāstras. Caster out of devils. Most learned in the holy Laws. An Avatār of God. Absolver of sins. Head of the best of all religions.’ (See Dr. Wright’s Nepāl.)

It is said that there are about 10,000 monks, and about 50,000 Buddhist lay families in Bhutān. Many of the monks do not live in monasteries, but hold offices under the Government.

Next, as to Sikkim—of which Dārjīling, now the Sanitarium of the Bengal Government, once formed a part. This is a small boundary country between Bhutān and Nepāl. It seems to have adopted Buddhism about the same time as Bhutān, or perhaps a century earlier. The Lāmas there belong to the Dugpa Red sect (p. 268). The aborigines, called Lepchas, though they venerate the Lāmas, are really only half Buddhists; and their priests, called Bijna (Bhikshu?) beggars, are half devil-exorcists. The oldest temple is that of Pemyangchi (see p. 432). Next come the important monasteries of Tassiding, Changachelling, Raklang, and Tamlung (one residence of the Rāja, the other being at Chumbi in Tibetan territory). There is also one near Dārjīling.

We ought finally to advert briefly to China and Japan. It is noteworthy that next in rank to the Mongolian Grand Lāma comes the Head Lāma of the great monastery of Peking, who represents Lāmism in that country. Koeppen informs us that in China, for at least six centuries, there have been two classes of Buddhist monks side by side, viz. first, the Ho-shang (p. 92) or Chinese monks, who had become naturalized in the year 65 after Christ; and, secondly, the Lāmas. These two schools are not distinguished so much by difference of doctrine and discipline, as by the position they hold in the empire. The Ho-shang are little more than separate fraternities of monks, tolerated by the State. They have no hierarchical organization, and no bishops, but each monastery stands independently, and has no superior except its own Abbot.

On the other hand, the Lāmas constitute in China a public organized society, acknowledged to a great extent and supported by the State, and possessing certain spiritual and temporal rights over particular districts. It is said, however, that the Lāmistic hierarchy in China is subordinated to the Government Committee for foreign affairs.

It is further stated that three great monasteries situated in or near Peking are exclusively reserved for the Tibetan and Mongolian Lāmas, and that of the three Lāmas who preside over these the chief is the before-mentioned representative of Lāmism at the Government Court (p. 295).

In China proper, within the eighteen Provinces, the number of the Lāma monasteries is said to be small, and these are generally to be found in the Provinces nearest to Tibet and Mongolia.

As to Japan, it does not appear that the Lāmistic form of Buddhism has penetrated into that country. In all probability Buddhist writings were introduced there from Corea about A.D. 552[134], but it is certain that Buddhism did not gain much ascendency in Japan till the ninth century, and even then was not able to displace either Shintoism or Confucianism and the worship of deceased ancestors. In fact, Buddhism commended itself to the Japanese, as it did to the people of every country to which it spread by its receptivity; and just as in Tibet, it adapted itself to the Shamanism which previously existed there, so in Japan it adopted Shintoism, and turned some of the Shinto deities into Bodhi-sattvas. Then followed the inevitable splitting up of Japanese Buddhism, as of all other religious systems, through disagreements and divisions; and in the thirteenth century various sects were developed. As to these, we need only note that while some sects adopt the early Atheistic and Agnostic form of Buddhism with its doctrine of Nirvāṇa, the principal sect called Shin is decidedly Theistic.

Sir Edward Reed, in his work on Japan (i. 84), informs us that he met a learned priest named Akamatz in company with the Archbishop of the Western sect. This priest’s account of the Shin sect coincides with the information which I myself received from a learned Japanese priest at Oxford.

It appears that the members of this sect believe in Amitābha Buddha as a Being of infinite light and goodness, their chief prayer-formula being Namo Amida (for Amita) Butsu, ‘Reverence to the Infinite Buddha,’ that is to Amitābha[135]. They place faith in the love and mercy of Amita Buddha, or rather in his readiness to receive them into his paradise called Sukhāvatī (see pp. 183, 204). At the same time they are required to lead moral lives, and salvation is practically only obtainable through their own works. The monks are allowed to marry and to eat flesh and fish.

Their doctrines have many points of contact with Christianity. The late Mr. Kasawara of Japan, who belonged to this sect and was highly esteemed by all who knew him in England, said to a Christian friend that ‘it gave him great pleasure to meet in the Gospels many coincidences with the aspirations of his own Buddhist faith, and that he greatly admired the idea of the Christ as the concrete expression of the Inscrutable Essence in its twofold form of infinite Light and infinite Love.’

Another well known sect called Nichiren was founded by a celebrated student and teacher named Nichiren. The Nichirens have been called the Methodists or Revivalists of Japan. They are very strict, and esteem the book of the Law as the highest object of veneration. Their prayer is to the following effect:—‘Glory be to the salvation-bringing book of the Law!’

Doubtless Japan once had a peculiar hierarchical organization of its own, which crumbled away not long ago, and need not now be described. Even in the present day each sect may have its leader or Head, who exercises a kind of episcopal superintendence like that of a Bishop or Archbishop.

We have already mentioned (p. 200) that a female form of Avalokiteṡvara is worshipped in Japan and China as the goddess of mercy. Her name in China is Kwan-yin, and in Japan Kwan-non; and she is represented as possessing any number of eyes and arms up to a thousand, and sometimes three faces.

In concluding this Lecture we may note that Russia is the only European country to which Lāmistic Buddhism has hitherto penetrated. There are adherents of the Dalai Lāma among the Burat (Buryad) tribes on the Baikal Lake, and among the Kalmuks on the Volga. Koeppen informs us that the chief temple and monastery of the former is on a lake thirty versts to the North-west of Selenginsk, and that the presiding monk is called the Khanpo Paṇḍita and claims to be an Avatāra Lāma. The Chief Lāma of the latter is said to be appointed by the Russian Government.

Hierarchical Buddhism naturally leads us on to the subject of ceremonial Buddhism, which must be reserved for the next Lecture.

LECTURE XII.
_Ceremonial and Ritualistic Buddhism._

Having in the last Lecture described the manner in which hierarchical systems were established in various Buddhist countries, we are naturally led on to consider in the present Lecture the development of what may be called ‘Ceremonial and Ritualistic Buddhism’; for no hierarchy can maintain its hold over the masses anywhere without the aid of outward manifestations, rites, ceremonies, and appeals to the senses.

Early Buddhism was, as we have already shown, vehemently opposed, not only to all sacerdotalism, but to all merely external ritualistic and ceremonial observances. It swept away the whole Vedic ritual—the whole sacrificial system of the Brāhmans; it rejected all penitential austerities and painful bodily mortifications; it denounced every form of superstition, idolatry, and priestcraft; it maintained that to lead a life of purity and high morality was better than all the forms and ceremonies of religion.

But the very vehemence of its opposition tended to bring about a reaction. Indeed, the history of all religious movements proves that the teaching of extreme doctrines of any kind is almost invariably followed by a Nemesis, though the teacher of them may himself not live to see it.

At the outset a reformer of the ultra type is sure to gain adherents by his enthusiasm and earnestness, as well as by his ardour in condemning abuses, but a time is almost certain to come when his followers will themselves lapse into the identical practices which it was his great object to denounce.

At all events, it is well known that in the present day the Buddha’s followers have invented a mass of complicated forms and ceremonies wholly out of keeping and incompatible with the purer and simpler system which he himself sought to establish.

In point of fact the Buddha in promulgating his creed did not take into account the impossibility of eradicating certain deep-seated cravings inherent in human nature, which every religion aiming at general acceptance must reckon with and satisfy:—for example, the craving for the visible, for the audible, and for the tangible; the craving for some concrete impersonation of infinite goodness and power; the craving for freedom from personal responsibility and for its transference to a priesthood; the craving for deliverance from the pains and penalties of sin; the craving for an infallible guide in all matters of faith and doctrine.

Later Buddhism, on the other hand, set itself to satisfy these longings—these ineradicable yearnings of the human heart. It felt that it could not establish itself on a firm foundation without hierarchical organizations, and it could not maintain these without external forms, ceremonies, and ritual observances. It therefore turned the simple monastic brotherhood into a caste of priests, and it attracted and gratified the senses of unthinking multitudes by a great variety of religious rites, usages, and symbols, many of which are quite unique, while nearly all are accompanied with superstitious practices implying an amount of ignorance and credulity on the part of the people, quite unparalleled.

This corrupt phase of Buddhism is especially dominant in Tibet, Mongolia, and Northern countries. In real truth it might be affirmed of every Buddhist in Tibet that religious superstition colours all his thoughts, words, and deeds. It is interwoven with the tissue of his daily life, and is part and parcel of his worldly occupations. It is equally part and parcel of the national life, and enters into every Government transaction. Furthermore, it is fostered by art and science, and ministered to by painting and sculpture. Nay, it is stamped on Nature itself. It is impressed on rocks, stones, and trees. It finds its way to the summit of snow-clad mountains, to the recesses of inaccessible ravines, and to the extremities of remote deserts.

To crown all, it might be affirmed that in Tibet religious superstition goes on by machinery, quite independently of the human will. It is kept in continual activity, night and day, by the flapping of flags, and by the revolution of innumerable wheels and cylinders, which are acted on by the forces of wind and water.

It may easily, therefore, be imagined that to give an exhaustive account of all the ceremonies and superstitious practices of Tibetan, or, as it may be called, Lāmistic Buddhism, would require the command of unlimited time. They have been treated of by Koeppen in his second volume, and by Schlagintweit in his ‘Buddhism in Tibet,’ and have been illustrated by descriptions in Huc’s travels[136], in Markham’s account of the travels of Bogle, Turner, and Manning, and in the recent narrative of Mr. Sarat Chandra Dās’ Journey. All I can attempt is to give a concise account of some of the chief Lāmistic observances, taking the books just named as my authorities, and adding whatever information I have been able to collect myself from other sources, while travelling in Buddhist countries.

We must, however, guard against the notion that ceremonial observances are confined to Tibet and Northern regions. They are now more or less prevalent in Burma and Ceylon, which have adopted much of the Mahā-yāna system, and to these countries we must give our first attention. Even the ceremonies now observed at the reception of novices and monks in Burma and Ceylon are less simple than the early admission-forms already described (pp. 77, 78, 256).

Of course every novice has to cut off his hair. He does this to prove that he is ready to give up the most beautiful and highly-prized of all his personal ornaments for the sake of a religious life.

But other forms have to be gone through in the present day, and I now give an account of the admission-ceremony of a novice—as performed in Burma—based on the description in the third chapter of Shway Yoe’s interesting volume called ‘the Burman[137].’

It is well understood that, according to the strict letter of the law (p. 77 of the present Lectures), a boy ought not to be admitted to the novitiate until he is fifteen, but in modern times, the admission often takes place at twelve or even eleven years of age, the belief being that until a boy is so admitted he cannot claim to be more than an animal.

The first point to be noted is that his admission involves the dropping of his secular name, and the receiving of another title to mark that it is then possible for him to escape the suffering of life. As he is sure to have been a scholar or pupil in a monastery (Kyoung) before applying to be admitted as a novice, he has learnt beforehand all the forms of worship and much that will be required of him during his monastic life; for instance, that he is to address senior monks in a particular manner and to wait upon them respectfully; that he is to walk through the streets keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, without gazing about, even if he have to pass a pageant or attractive spectacle of any kind; that he is to wear his garments in the prescribed fashion; that he is to eat with moderation and dignity.

On the day appointed for the induction-ceremony, the young neophyte dresses in his gayest clothes, and mounted on a pony, passes at a foot’s pace through the town or village. A band of music goes before him, and all his friends dressed in their best garments, follow in a crowd, the young men dancing and singing, the girls smiling and laughing. Thus he proceeds in procession to the houses of his relations, to bid them farewell. Of course the introductory observance is intended as a kind of dramatic imitation of Gautama Buddha’s celebrated abandonment of his own family and worldly associates, called the Mahābhinishkramaṇa, ‘the great going forth from home’ (see p. 28 of this volume). When the round of visits is finished, the would-be novice turns back with all his companions to his parents’ house. There he finds a large number of persons assembled, and among them the Head of the monastery, with several of his brother monks. These are seated on a raised dais in front of which are the offerings intended for presentation to them, consisting of fruit, cooked food, yellow cloth, etc.

The monks (‘Talapoins’) seated in a row, carefully hold up their large fan-like screens to shut out the female portion of the assemblage from their view. Portions of the Vinaya (p. 62 of this volume) are then recited, after which the would-be novice is made to throw off all his fine clothes and bind a piece of white cloth round his loins. Then his hair is cut off close, and his head is carefully shaved and washed. Next he is taken to a bath, and after immersion in pure water, is brought once more, partially clothed, before the assembled monks. Prostrating himself three times before them, he raises his hands in reverence, and, using the regular Pāli form of words, asks to be admitted to the holy brotherhood. Upon that the Head of the monastery presents him with the yellow monastic garments. These are duly put on, and the mendicant’s bowl is hung round his neck. The ceremony concludes by the formal announcement of his having become a member of the monastery.

The present admission-ceremony in Ceylon appears to be of a simpler character. In fact it differs little from the ancient form. Those boys who are destined for the novitiate usually begin their connexion with the monastery to which they intend to belong by first becoming pupils in the monastery-school. The devotion of the monkhood to the education of mere boys was perhaps one of the best results of the progress and development of Buddhism. In monasteries, all boys may learn to read and write[138]. There also they gain some experience of monastic duties and requirements, so that when the time comes for any pupil to enter the novitiate, his preparedness is taken for granted. He merely makes known his intention to a superior or senior monk. Then having shaved his head, and undergone the ceremony of bathing, the applicant, who has furnished himself with the proper yellow robes, presents them to the superior monk, and requests to be allowed to receive them again that he may become a novice. Next, on his reciting the three-refuge formulary, and the ten prohibitions, he is permitted to take back the monkish garments and to put them on. He is then formally admitted, and his admission announced to the other members of the monastery (Hardy’s Eastern Monachism, p. 23). It may be noted that the monkish garments do not include a head-covering as in Northern countries.

As to the ceremony of admission to the full monkhood, it differs so little from the ancient rite (described at p. 79), that no further description need here be given.

With regard to the religious services performed in the monastic institutions of modern times, they are, of course, a great advance on the simple formularies used in early days, before the establishment and organization of large monasteries.

The earlier and purer Buddhism, as we have seen, had only one religious formula, and that was a simple expression of veneration for the three jewels—the Buddha, his Law, and his Order of Monks (p. 78).

Any form of worship was altogether out of place, if not a mere mockery, when there was no supreme Being to worship; when the Buddha himself, who never claimed to be more than a perfected man, had passed away into non-existence, and when all that he left behind was the great ideal of his own memory, to be venerated and imitated.

When, however, monastic establishments were organized and the doctrine became developed, a great development of worship took place.

To illustrate this I submit a description of daily life in a Burmese monastery, based on the information given by Shway Yoe (p. 307), and often using his words.

It appears that every monastic community in Burma is roused a little before daylight by the sound of a big bell, beaten with a wooden mallet. Each monk has then to rise, rinse out his mouth, wash his hands and face, arrange his dress (the same in which he has slept all night) and recite a few formularies, among which is one to the following effect:—‘How great a favour has the Lord Buddha bestowed upon me in manifesting to me his law, through the observance of which I may escape the purgatorial penalties of hell and secure salvation!’ All the members of the fraternity then station themselves before the image of the Buddha, with the Abbot at their head, and the rest of the brotherhood, full monks, novices and scholars, according to their order. This done, they proceed to intone the morning service. At its conclusion each stands before the Head of the monastery, and pledges himself to observe during the day all the rules and precepts incumbent upon him. They then separate—the pupils and novices to sweep the floor of the monastery, bring drinking water, filter it, etc., the more advanced novices and full monks to tend the sacred trees; the elders to meditate in solitude on the miseries of life, such meditation being beyond all other actions meritorious. Some gather flowers and offer them before the relic-shrine (Dāgaba).

Then comes a repast, preceded by a grace to the effect that the food is eaten to satisfy bodily wants, not to please the appetite; that garments are used to cover nakedness, not for vanity; that health is desired to give strength for the performance of religious worship and meditation. After the meal, all devote themselves to study or to teaching. Then arranging themselves in file, they set out with the Abbot at their head to receive their food (not beg). Silently they move on through the streets, fixing their eyes steadily on the ground six feet before them, meditating on the vanity and mutability of all things, and only halting when a layman emerges from some door to pour his contribution of rice or fruit or vegetables into their alms-bowls. The gift received, not a word or a syllable of thanks is uttered; for is it not the receivers who confer the favour and not the givers? In this way they circle back to the monastery.

On their return from their perambulation a portion of the food is offered to the Buddha, and then all proceed to eat the remainder, consisting perhaps of cooked rice, boiled peas, fish, cocoa-nut cakes, cucumbers, or even curried flesh and fowl, usually wrapped separately in plantain-leaves. Next the bowls are washed, and a few hymns are chanted before the Buddha’s image. During the succeeding hour the boy-scholars are allowed to play about, while the monks pass their time in conversation, and the Abbot receives people who come to pay their respects. All visitors prostrate themselves before him three times, once for the Buddha, once for the Law, and once for the Monkhood. The Abbot in return says: ‘May the supporter’ (so he calls all laymen; compare p. 89), ‘as a reward for merit, be freed from the three calamities (of war, pestilence, and famine)!’ At about half-past eleven the last regular meal of the day is eaten. Monks are forbidden to eat after noon. When the mid-day meal is over, all return to work. Some undertake the teaching of the boy-scholars. Others read the texts of the Tri-piṭaka with their commentaries, or superintend the writers who are copying manuscripts. Some of the older members of the monastery talk with the idlers, who are to be found lounging about the precincts, and some sink into deep meditation, which probably ends in deep sleep.

Yet this profound meditation is believed to be all important, for is it not the path to Arhatship, to Nirvāṇa, and to the acquisition of supernatural faculties (see p. 245)? Other monks tell the beads of their rosaries and repeat the prescribed formularies, such as: ‘All is changeful, all is sorrowful, all is unreal,’ followed by invocations to the three holies (see p. 175). Between three and four o’clock the lessons are finished, and the scholars perform any domestic duties required in the monastery. This is the chief return for the teaching they receive. Then most of the pupils go to their own homes for dinner. As to the youthful novices or junior monks, these are all obliged to fast like the full monks. Many of them go out with some of the senior monks for a solemn walk. Then at sunset the far-reaching notes of the bell summon the walkers back to the monastery. All must be within the walls before the sun goes down. The day’s duties now draw to a close. The boy-pupils are made to repeat all they have learned during the day, and some of the Pāli rituals are chanted ‘with spasmodic energy.’ At half-past eight or nine there are further recitations before the image of the Buddha. All assemble, as in the morning, and together intone the hymns. When the last sound of the chant has died away, one of the novices stands up and proclaims the hour, day of the week, day of the month, and number of the year. Then all bow before the Buddha’s image, and thrice before the Head of the monastery, and retire to rest (see Shway Yoe’s ‘Burman’).

It is noteworthy that severe asceticism and painful austerities—as practised among the Hindūs from the earliest times up to the present day (described at pp. 228-230 of this volume)—form no part of the duties of Buddhist monks; for Buddhism has never sanctioned bodily torture, as Brāhmanism has done.

We now pass on to a description of the observances usual during the period of Vassa (see pp. 82-84).

Mr. Dickson has given us some valuable notes on the method of keeping this season in Ceylon, and I venture to found a short narrative on the information he has communicated[139].

It seems that the villagers of Ceylon esteem it a privilege and a work of great merit to send for one or two monk-priests from a monastery and to minister to their wants, as well as listen to their preaching and recitations during Vassa.

The season begins on the fifteenth day of the eighth month; that is, on the day of full moon in the month Ashāḍha (June, July). Sometimes two or three villages join in inviting a monk-priest to live with them for the whole three months. They prepare a chamber for his sleeping accommodation, a room for his meals, a temporary chapel for the reception of the Buddha’s image, of the relic-casket and of the sacred books, and a place in which he can recite the law and explain it.

On the first day of Vassa the villagers put on their holiday dresses, and set off with music, dancers, singers, and flags for the monastery, where the priest, whom they desire to invite, resides. Thence they conduct him in procession to their homes. His first act, after his arrival, is to set up the image and arrange the relic-casket and books. An altar is placed in front of the image, and on this the people proceed to make their offerings of flowers and perfumes. Next every villager contributes something for the priest’s food, such as tea, sugar, honeycomb, orange-juice, and the like. The priest, in return, pronounces a benediction, and says:—‘By virtue of this first offering made for the sake of the Buddha, who is like unto the sun of gods and men, and by virtue of this second offering made to the monkhood, which is like a field of merit, may you henceforth be delivered from the evils of birth in the place of torment, in the world of beasts, in the world of ghosts, and in the world of demons, and inherit the bliss of those who ascend and descend through the worlds of gods till you are born again in the world of men (see p. 21)!’

Then the monk-priest proceeds to the preaching-chamber, in the middle of which is a chair with a cushion. He takes his seat, and, holding a screen before his face to prevent his attention being distracted, commences his recitations. The people sit on the floor—the men on one side, the women and children on the other. First he repeats the three-refuge formula (p. 78) and the five prohibitions (p. 126), the people repeating after him. Next he recites some favourite passage from the discourses of Buddha, the one generally selected being the Nidhi-kāṇḍa Sutta (see p. 129). If any listener interposes a remark, or hints that he does not understand, the priest explains the meaning. The people then make obeisance and depart.

The monk-priest next repeats to himself the appointed Pirit for the first day of Vassa—namely, the Maṅgala-sutta, Ratna-sutta, and Karaṇīya-metta-sutta (see p. 318), after which he retires to rest for a few hours. Rising before daybreak, he meditates on the virtues of Buddha, on goodwill towards all living beings, on the impurities of the body, and on death, walking up and down in his own chamber, or in any place suitable for perambulation. Next he goes to the temporary chapel, and prostrating himself before the shrine, says, ‘I worship continually all the relic-shrines, the sacred Bodhi-tree, and the images of Buddha. I reverence the three jewels’ (see p. 175). He then arranges his offering of flowers, and places these with a small portion of his morning meal on the altar. His meal being concluded, he teaches the children of the villagers, or he prepares for the mid-day and evening preaching (baṇa).

These preachings are generally well attended, especially on the four Poya days (p. 257). On the new-moon and full-moon days, the priest must go to the nearest monastery and join in the Pātimokkha (see p. 84); and on the full-moon day, which terminates the three months of Vassa, he must go there again as before, but on that occasion, addressing the assembled monks, he must say:—‘Venerable Sirs, I have duly finished the Vassa; if you have any doubt about it, speak, and tell me in what I have erred.’ If no one speaks he is held to have fulfilled his duties faultlessly. Then returning and taking with him a second priest, the two together perform the Rātri-baṇa or mid-night service, which concludes the ceremonies of Vassa. Two pulpits, made of four upright posts, supporting small platforms, are erected, and the people from the neighbouring villages, dressed in their holiday attire, attend in large numbers. These nocturnal recitations are commonly continued for about five hours.

Some account should next be given of the ceremony called Pirit, which is performed in Ceylon and Burma during Vassa, and also at other times. The name Pirit is corrupted from the Pāli _paritta_, which again is supposed to be connected with Sanskṛit paritrā or paritrāṇa, ‘protection[140].’ We must premise that this ceremony had its origin in the fear of evil spirits and demons everywhere prevalent in the East (see p. 218); but it must be borne in mind that Buddhism recognizes no order of beings, called demons, created by God, and eternally separate in nature from men.

Demons are beings who are regarded as created by men, rather than by God; for they may have been men in their last state of existence and may become men again (see p. 122). They are, however, represented as cherishing spiteful and malevolent feelings against the superior race to which they once belonged; and all kinds of safeguards and counteracting influences are thought to be needed to protect human beings from their malignity.

This is quite in keeping with the Hindū theory, which holds that when a man addicted to any particular vice dies, his evil nature never dies, but assumes another personality and lives after him as a demon. And this applies equally to women, so that the resulting demons may be of either sex, and the female is held to be more spiteful than the male.

The most effective of all safeguards against the machinations of such malignant beings, is believed to be the recitation or intoning of the Buddha’s Law, and especially of the Sutta (Sūtra) division of it already described (p. 62). And of this division there are choice portions—twenty-nine in number[141]—supposed to possess greater prophylactic potency than other portions. Collectively, they constitute what is called the Pirit, and of these, three are most commonly recited:—the Maṅgala-sutta, the Ratna-sutta, and the Karaṇīya-metta-sutta. Part of the first of these has been already given (at p. 129 of this volume).

Part of the second or ‘Jewel’ Sutta (translated by Childers) runs thus:—

‘All spirits here assembled,—those of earth and those of air,—let all
such be joyful; let them listen attentively to my words.

‘Therefore hear me, O ye spirits; be friendly to the race of men; for
day and night they bring you their offerings, therefore keep diligent
watch over them.

‘Whatsoever treasure exists here or in other worlds, whatsoever
glorious jewels in the heavens, there is none like Buddha.

‘Buddha is this glorious jewel. May this truth bring prosperity! There
is nought like this doctrine. The Law is this glorious jewel. May this
truth bring prosperity!

‘The disciples of Buddha, worthy to receive gifts, the priesthood is
this glorious jewel. May this truth bring prosperity!

‘Their old karma is destroyed, no new karma is produced. Their hearts
no longer cleaving to future life, their seed of existence destroyed,
their desires quenched, the righteous are extinguished like this lamp.
The priesthood is this glorious jewel. May this truth bring
prosperity! Ye spirits here assembled—those of earth and those of
air—let us bow before Buddha—let us bow before the Law—let us bow
before the Monkhood.’

Part of the third or Karaṇīya-metta-sutta runs as follows:—

This is what should be done by him who is wise in seeking his own
good. Contented and cheerful, not oppressed with the cares of this
world, not burdened with riches, tranquil, discreet, not arrogant, not
greedy for gifts, let him not do any mean action for which others who
are wise might reprove him. Let all creatures be happy and prosperous;
let them be of joyful mind. Let no man in any place deceive another,
nor let him be harsh towards any one; let him not, out of anger or
resentment, wish ill to his neighbour. As a mother, so long as she
lives, watches over her child, her only child, so among all beings let
boundless goodwill prevail. Let goodwill without measure, impartial,
unmixed with enmity, prevail throughout the world, above, below,
around.