Chapter XIV: 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.

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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.

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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.