selytes. The
king replied that the missionary might convert as many as he pleased,
but that he would cut all their heads off afterwards. The missionary
had not much trouble, when this answer was made known, in counting the
heads of his proselytes. In their own religion, which is Budhism, the
Burmahs appear to be very relax; it is too absurd for the energy of
their minds. Those who enter the priesthood wear a yellow dress; but if
a priest at any time feels disposed to quit his profession, he is at
liberty so to do. All he has to do is to throw off his yellow garment;
but at the same time he can never resume it. The Burmahs are
superstitious about charms, but are not superstitious on religious
points. In fact, there is very little religion among them, and had we,
at the close of the war, instead of demanding a crore of rupees,
insisted that they should embrace Christianity, the king would have
given the order, and the whole nation would have nominally been
Christians. I once asked a Burmah soldier what was his idea of a future
state. His idea of bliss was singular--"I shall be turned into a
buffalo, and shall lie down in a meadow of grass higher than my head,
and eat all day long, and there won't be a single mosquito to annoy me."
While on the subject of religion, I may here observe, that at the
capture of Rangoon I entered a Chinese temple, the altar-piece, if I may
use the term, was the Ganesa of the Hindoos, but not seated on the lotus
leaf, but on the Chinese rat. On each side of this were two little
candelabras, formed of the Egyptian ibis, holding the oil cups in its
beak. I also found the Hounyman, or monkey god of the Hindoos, and
Budhist figures. I once observed some sepoys playing and laughing at a
bronze image they had picked up at the pagoda of Syriam, and on
examining it, I was surprised to find that it was a figure of the
Egyptian Isis, with her hand raised, and her person in the position
described as the correct one when blessing the world. The art of
embalming appears to be known to the Burmahs, and is occasionally
practised by the priests. At the capture of the old Portuguese fort at
Syriam, I found, not far from it, a sort of canopied shed, decorated
with carving, cut paper, and tinsel, and supported by four pillars, like
a bedstead. Below lay the body of a priest, embalmed and gilt. I
intended to have brought this home, but before I arrived there, I found
one of my marines, a graceless do