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                               TRÜBNER'S
                            ORIENTAL SERIES.


                           THE LIFE OR LEGEND
                                   OF

                                 GAUDAMA
                       _THE BUDDHA OF THE BURMES_

                            With Annotations.

                 THE WAYS TO NEIBBAN, AND NOTICE ON THE
                       PHONGYIES OR BURMESE MONKS.


                                 BY THE
                       RIGHT REVEREND P. BIGANDET,
                           BISHOP OF RAMATHA,
                     VICAR APOSTOLIC OF AVA AND PEGU


                            _IN TWO VOLUMES._


                                 VOL. I.

                             Fourth Edition.


                                 LONDON:
                KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & CO. LTD.
                    DRYDEN HOUSE, GERRARD STREET, W.
                                  1911.



      _The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._


                   Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
                   At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh




ADVERTISEMENT TO THIRD EDITION.


The origin of the present work dates back to the years 1852, 1853, 1854,
and 1855, when portions of it appeared in the "Journal of the Indian
Archipelago and Eastern Asia," edited by J. R. Logan of Penang (vols.
vi., vii., viii., and ix.). The first complete edition was printed at
Rangoon in Burmah in 1858, and a second, much enlarged, at the same
place in 1866.

Very few copies of either of these editions reached Europe, and both are
entirely out of print. The present third edition--a faithful reprint of
the second--issued, with Bishop Bigandet's sanction, for the benefit of
European and American scholars and readers, will, therefore, it is
hoped, be gladly received.

Buddhism and Gautama, the faith and its founder, whose followers are
between four and five hundred millions of the human race, were
comparatively unknown in Europe but a generation ago, and yet this great
faith had continued for four and twenty centuries to spread over the
vast lands of the East, taking deep and enduring root in all, from
Bhotan, Nepaul, and Ceylon, over Further India to China Proper,
Mongolia, Mantchooria, Tibet, and Japan.

Buddhism, as it is found in Burmah, has a particular claim to the
attention of a diligent and attentive observer. We there have that
religious creed or system as pure from adulteration as it can be after a
lapse of so many centuries. Philosophy never flourished in Burmah, and,
therefore, never modified the religious systems of the country. Hinduism
never exercised any influence on the banks of the Irrawaddy. Chinese and
Burmese have often met on battlefields, but the influence of the Middle
Kingdom has never established itself in Burmah. In other words, Chinese
Buddhism has never been able to penetrate into the customs and manners
of the people, and has not attempted to communicate its own religion to
its southern neighbours. It would seem that the true form of Buddhism is
to be found in Burmah, and that a knowledge of that system can only be
arrived at by the study of the religious books of Burmah, and by
attentively observing the religious practices and ceremonies of the
people. This is what Bishop Bigandet has endeavoured to do throughout
his work.

Mr. Alabaster, the author of a very popular work on Siamese Buddhism,
testifies to the great value of the Bishop's work, which, he remarks, is
in one sense complete, for whereas the Siamese manuscript concludes with
the attainment of omniscience, the Bishop had materials which enabled
him to continue the story to the death of Nirwana (Neibban in the
Burmese Pali form). He might have added that the work modestly entitled
"Life of Gaudama" is a complete exposition of the great system of
Eastern Asia. The metaphysical part, which is the very essence of the
system, has received a due consideration, and the body of religious has
been fully described. Moreover, the foot-notes help the ordinary reader
in understanding clearly the text of the Legend.

Professor Albrecht Weber speaks also of the Bishop's work in terms of
high commendation (see "Literarisches Centralblatt," 1870, No. 29,
reprinted in "Indische Streifen," vol. iii.), whilst a still further
testimony is accorded to its importance in the recent appearance of a
French translation by Lieutenant Victor Gauvain.

  LONDON, _December_ 1879.




PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.


Whether Buddhism be viewed in its extent and diffusion, or in the
complex nature of its doctrines, it claims the serious attention of
every inquiring mind.

In our own days it is, under different forms, the creed prevailing in
Nepaul, Thibet, Mongolia, Corea, China, the Japanese Archipelago, Anam,
Cambodia, Siam, the Shan States, Burmah, Arracan, and Ceylon. Its sway
extends over nearly one-fourth of the human race.

Though based upon capital and revolting errors, Buddhism teaches a
surprising number of the finest precepts and purest moral truths. From
the abyss of its almost unfathomable darkness it sends forth rays of the
brightest hue.

To the reflecting mind, the study of this religious system becomes the
study of the history of one of the greatest religious enterprises that
has ever been undertaken to elevate our nature above its low level, by
uprooting the passions of the heart and dispelling the errors of the
mind. A serious observer sees at a glance the dark and humiliating
picture of the sad and barren results of the greatest and mightiest
efforts of human wisdom, in its endeavours to find out the real cause of
all human miseries, and to provide the remedies to cure the moral
distempers to which our nature is subject. The fact of man's wretched
and fallen condition was clearly perceived by the Buddhist philosopher,
but he failed in his attempts to help man out of the difficulties which
encompass him in all directions, and to bring him back to the path of
truth and salvation. The efforts begun on the banks of the Ganges at an
early period, and carried on with the greatest ardour and perseverance,
have proved as abortive as those made at a later period throughout
Greece and Italy by the greatest and brightest geniuses of antiquity.
What a grand and irresistible demonstration both of the absolute
inability of man to rescue from evil and attain good, and of the
indispensable necessity of divine interference to help him in
accomplishing that twofold achievement!

It may be said in favour of Buddhism, that no philosophico-religious
system has ever upheld, to an equal degree, the notions of a saviour and
deliverer, and of the necessity of his mission for procuring the
salvation, in a Buddhist sense, of man. The _rôle_ of Buddha, from
beginning to end, is that of a deliverer, who preaches a law designed to
secure to man deliverance from all the miseries under which he is
labouring. But by an inexplicable and deplorable eccentricity, the
pretended saviour, after having taught man the way to deliver himself
from the tyranny of his passions, only leads him, after all, into the
bottomless gulf of total annihilation.

Buddhism, such as we find it in Burmah, appears to have retained, to a
great extent, its original character and primitive genuineness,
exhibiting, as it does, the most correct forms and features of that
Protean creed. At the epoch the Burmans left the northern valleys and
settled in the country they now inhabit, they were a half-civilised
Mongolian tribe, with no kind of worship, except a sort of geniolatry,
much similar to what we see now existing among the various tribes
bordering on Burmah. They were in the same condition when the first
Buddhist missionaries arrived among them. Deposited in this almost
virginal soil, the seed of Buddhism grew up freely without encountering
any obstacle to check its growth.

Philosophy, which, in its too often erratic rambles in search of truth,
changes, corrects, improves, destroys, and, in numberless ways, modifies
all that it meets, never flourished in these parts; and, therefore, did
not work on the religious institutions, which accordingly have remained
up to this day nearly the same as they were when first imported into
Burmah. The free discussion of religious and moral subjects, which
constituted the very life of the Indian schools, and begat so many
various, incoherent, and contradictory opinions on the most essential
points of religion and philosophy, is the sign of an advanced state of
civilisation, such as does not appear to have ever existed on the banks
of the Irrawaddy.

Owing to its geographical position, and perhaps, also, to political
causes, Burmah has ever remained out of the reach of Hindu influence,
which in Nepaul has coloured Buddhism with Hindu myths, and habited it
in gross forms of idolatry. In China, where there already subsisted at
the time of the arrival of the preachers of the new doctrine the worship
of heroes and ancestors, Buddhism, like an immense parasitic plant,
extended itself all over the institutions which it covered rather than
destroyed, allowing the ancient forms to subsist under the disguise it
afforded them. But such was not the state of Burmah when visited by the
first heralds of Buddhism.

The epoch of the introduction of Buddhism in Burmah has hitherto been a
matter of conjecture. According to Burmese annals, Boudha-gautha, at the
end of the fourth century of our era, brought from Ceylon a copy of the
scriptures, and did for Burmah what Fa-Hian, the Chinese pilgrim,
accomplished a few years afterwards in India and Ceylon for the benefit
of his country. But Burmans maintain that they were followers of Buddha
long before that epoch. If an inference may be drawn from analogy, it
is probable that they are right in their assertion. China is fully as
far from the ancient seat of Buddhism as Burmah. Yet it appears from the
Chinese annals that the doctrines of the Indian philosopher were already
propagated in some parts of that empire in the middle of the first
century of our era, and probably at an earlier date. There is no
improbability in concluding that, at least at the same time, Buddhist
missionaries had penetrated into this country to propagate their tenets.
According to Buddhistic annals, it was after the holding of the 3d
Council, 236 after Gaudama's death, 207 B.C., that two missionaries
carried religion to Thaton, the ruins of which are still to be seen
between the mouths of the Tsitang and Salween rivers, and established
Buddhism in Pegu. Be that as it may, we know, from the magnificent
Buddhist monuments of Pagan, that that religion had reached, in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries, a degree of splendour that has never
since been equalled.

The Buddhist scriptures are divided into three great parts, the Thoots
or instructions, the Wini or discipline, and the Abidama or metaphysics.
Agreeably to this division, the matter of the following pages is
arranged under three heads. The Life of Buddha, with some portions of
his preaching, will convey notions of his principal teachings and
doctrines. It is accompanied with copious annotations intended to
explain the text, and to convey detailed notices of the system of
Buddhism in general, and particularly as it is found existing in Burmah.
We have added a few small dzats, or accounts of some of the former
existences of Gaudama, and the summary of two large ones.

In the Notice on the Phongyies will be found the chief points of
discipline fully explained and developed. We have endeavoured to render
as complete as possible the account of the Buddhist Religious, or
Phongyies. It is an exposition and practical illustration of the
highest results that can be obtained under the influence of the
doctrines of the Indian philosopher.

In the Ways to Neibban an attempt has been made to set forth and unfold
the chief points of metaphysics upon which hinges the whole religious
system. We confess that the summary of metaphysics is rather concise. We
were reluctant to proceed too far in this subject, which, to the
generality of readers, is an uninviting one.

A suggestion from Captain H. Hopkinson, Commissioner of the Martaban and
Tenasserim Provinces, has induced us to add a few remarks on the names
and situations of the principal towns and countries mentioned in the
Legend, with the view of identifying them with modern sites and places.

It is hardly necessary to state here that the writer, when he undertook
this work, had no other object in view than that of merely expounding
the religious system of Buddhism as it is, explaining its doctrines and
practices as correctly as it was in his power to do, regardless of their
merits and demerits. His information has been derived from the perusal
of the religious books of the Burmans, and from frequent conversations
on religion, during several years, with the best informed among the
laity and the religious whom he has had the chance of meeting.

The surest way perhaps of coming to at least an exact and accurate
knowledge of the history and doctrines of Buddhism would be to give a
translation of the Legends of Buddha, such as they are to be met with in
all countries where Buddhism has established its sway, and to accompany
these translations with an exposition of the various doctrinal points,
such as they are held, understood, and believed by these various
nations. This has already been done by eminent Orientalists, on
Thibetan, Sanscrit, Cingalese, and Chinese originals. A similar work,
executed by competent persons among the Shans, Siamese, Cambodians, and
Cochin Chinese, would considerably help the savants in Europe, who have
assumed the difficult task of expounding the Buddhist system in its
complex and multifarious forms, to give a full, general, and
comprehensive view of that great religious creed with all its
variations.

The best way to undermine the foundations of a false creed and
successfully attack it, is to lay it open to the eyes of all and exhibit
it as it really is. Error never retains its hold over the mind except
under the mask of truth which it contrives to assume. When deprived of
the mask that has covered its emptiness and unreality, it vanishes away
as a phantom and an illusion.

We are happy in having an opportunity of returning publicly our thanks
to the worthy Commissioner of Pegu, Major A. P. Phayre, for his kind
exertions in furthering the publication of this work. Not only is he an
eminent Oriental scholar, and profoundly versed in all that has
reference to Buddhism, but his great delight is to encourage every
effort that tends to unfold and explain a creed which, despite all that
has been written about it in the several countries where it flourishes,
still contains many mysteries in the parts relating to its history and
doctrines that require clearing up.

We have, with a deeply-felt distrust of our poor abilities, taken the
best portion out of our limited stock of information concerning the
Buddhist system as it exists in these parts, and, with a willing heart,
presented it to the public. We hope that our example may induce others,
whose stores of knowledge on this subject are fuller and richer than
ours, to act in a similar spirit in aid of the prosecution of a great
object, viz., the acquisition of a correct knowledge of the religion of
nearly 300,000,000 of our fellow-men.

  RANGOON, _October_ 1858.




PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.


The First Edition of the Life of Gaudama being out of print for the last
five or six years, we have, at the request of several highly esteemed
persons, come to the determination of publishing a second and
much-enlarged edition of the same Work. In carrying on the plan of
improvement which we had in contemplation, we have been favoured by a
happy circumstance. We have, after much labour, found and procured, in
the Burmese capital, a very rare palm-leaf manuscript, the contents of
which have supplied us with copies and interesting details respecting
the sayings and doings of Gaudama.

The book is known under the Pali name of Tatha-gatha-oudana, the meaning
of which is Joyful Utterance, or Praises, of the Tatha-gatha. The latter
expression is one of the many titles given to Gaudama: it means, he who
has come like all his predecessors. In the opinion of Buddhists, the
Buddhas who appear throughout the duration of a world, or in the various
series of succeeding worlds, have all the same mission to accomplish;
they are gifted with the same perfect science, and are filled with
similar feelings of compassion for and benevolence towards all beings.
Hence the denomination which is fitly given to Gaudama, the last of
them.

In the course of the Work will be found some particulars concerning the
author of the manuscript referred to, and the place where it was
composed. We have only to state here that we have gathered therefrom
much information on the condition of Gaudama, previous to his last
existence, on the origin of the Kapilawot country, where he was born,
and on the kings he has descended from. We have also met with many new
details on the great intellectual working of Gaudama's mind, during the
forty-nine days he spent in meditation around the Bodi-tree,
particularly on the important theory of the twelve Nidanas, or causes
and effects, which, with the four sublime truths, constitutes the very
essence of the system. We have also found many important particulars
concerning the whereabouts of Gaudama during the first twenty years of
his public life, and the conversions he effected whilst engaged in the
work of an itinerant preacher. Here, too, we have gleaned and selected a
few of the instructions he delivered to the people that crowded about
him. The story of Dewadat is narrated at great length. We have carefully
written down what is said of the three Assemblies, or Councils, held at
Radzagio, Wethalie, and Pataliputra, and what is mentioned of the kings
who reigned in Magatha, from Adzatathat to Dammathoka. We have mentioned
the great fact of the spread of Buddhism beyond the boundaries of
Magatha after the holding of the third Council, taking care to relate
what we have found stated concerning its diffusion in Pegu and Burmah.

Numerous notes have been added to those of the First Edition, for the
purpose of elucidating and explaining, as far as we are able, the
principles of Buddhism and whatever is connected with that religious
system.

  RANGOON, _May_ 1866.




CONTENTS.

LEGEND OR LIFE OF THE BURMESE BUDDHA, CALLED GAUDAMA.


                                                                    PAGE
CHAPTER I.

    Invocation of the Burmese translator -- Slow but steady progress
    of Phralaong towards the Buddhaship -- Promise made to him by
    the Buddha Deipinkara -- Origin and beginning of the Kapilawot
    country and of its rulers -- Birth of Thoodaudana -- His
    marriage with the Princess Maia -- Rumour of the coming birth of
    a Buddha -- Phralaong in the seats of Nats -- Dream of Maia --
    Conception of Phralaong -- Wonders attending that event.           1

CHAPTER II.

    Birth of Buddha in a forest -- Rejoicings on that occasion --
    Kaladewila -- Prediction of the Pounhas -- Vain efforts of
    Thoodaudana to thwart the effect of the Prediction.               34

CHAPTER III.

    A name is given to the child -- Prediction of the Pounhas
    respecting the child -- Death of Maia -- Miraculous occurrence
    at the child's cradle -- Adolescence of the Phralaong -- He sees
    the four signs -- Return from the garden to the royal city.       45

CHAPTER IV.

    Phralaong leaves his palace, the royal city, and retires into
    solitude amidst the plaudits of the Nats -- He cuts his fine
    hair with a stroke of his sword, and puts on the habit of Rahan
    -- He begs his food at Radzagio -- His interview with the ruler
    of that place -- His studies under two Rathees -- His fast and
    penances in the solitude of Oorouwela during six years.           60

CHAPTER V.

    Thoodzata's offering to Phralaong -- His five dreams -- He
    shapes his course towards the Gniaong tree -- Miraculous
    appearance of a throne -- Victory of Phralaong over Manh Nat --
    His meditations during forty-nine days near the Bodi tree -- He
    at last obtains the perfect science -- He overcomes the
    temptations directed against him by the daughters of Manh --
    Buddha preaches the law to a Pounha and to two merchants.         77

CHAPTER VI.

    Buddha hesitates to undertake the task of preaching the law --
    The great Brahma entreats him to preach the law to all beings --
    His assent to the entreaties -- Journey towards Migadawon -- He
    meets Ouppaka -- His first preachings -- Conversion of a young
    nobleman named Ratha, followed by that of his father and other
    relatives -- Conversion of several other noblemen --
    Instructions to the Rahans -- Conversion of the three Kathabas.  111

CHAPTER VII.

    Buddha's sermon on the mountain -- Interview of Buddha and King
    Pimpathara in the vicinity of the city of Radzagio -- Answer of
    Kathaba to Buddha's interrogation -- Instructions delivered to
    the king and his attendants -- Solemn entry of Buddha into
    Radzagio -- Donation of the Weloowon monastery to Buddha --
    Conversion of Thariputra and Maukalan -- The Rahans are keenly
    taunted by the people of Radzagio.                               146

CHAPTER VIII.

    Thoodaudana, desirous to see his son, sends messengers to him --
    They become converts -- Kaludari, a last messenger, prevails on
    Buddha to go to Kapilawot -- His reception -- Conversion of the
    king and of Yathaudara -- Nanda and Raoula put on the religious
    habit -- Conversion of Ananda and of several of his relatives --
    Temptation of Ananda -- Conversion of Eggidatta -- Story of
    Tsampooka.                                                       165

CHAPTER IX.

    A rich man of Thawattie, named Anatapein, becomes a convert --
    Story of Dzewaka -- He cures Buddha of a painful distemper --
    The people of Wethalie send a deputation to Buddha -- Digression
    on the manner Buddha daily spent his time -- Settling of a
    quarrel between the inhabitants of Kaulia and those of Kapilawot
    -- New converts are strengthened in their faith -- Thoodaudana's
    death in the arms of his son -- Queen Patzapati and many noble
    ladies are elevated to the rank of Rahaness -- Conversion of
    Kema, the first queen of King Pimpathara -- Heretics near
    Thawattie are confounded by the display of miraculous powers --
    Buddha goes to the seat of Tawadeintha, to preach the law to his
    mother.                                                          194

CHAPTER X.

    Buddha's proceedings in the seat of Tawadeintha -- His
    triumphant return to the seat of men, in the city of Thin-ka-tha
    -- He is calumniated by the heretics of Thawattie -- Eighth
    season spent in the forest of Tesakala -- Subsequent preachings
    -- He meets with a bad reception in the Kothambi country --
    Dissension among the disciples -- Reconciliation -- Travels of
    Buddha -- Preaching to a Pounha who tilled a field.              223

CHAPTER XI.

    Voyage to Tsalia -- Instructions to Meggia -- Raoula is made
    a professed religious -- Manahan's questions to Buddha --
    Misbehaviour of Thouppabuda -- Questions proposed by Nats in
    the Dzetawon monastery -- Conversion of a Biloo -- Episode of
    Thirima at Radzagio -- Attention paid to a poor pounha and to a
    weaver's daughter, on account of their faith -- In the twentieth
    season, appointment of Ananda to the stewardship -- Conversion
    of a famous robber.                                              241

CHAPTER XII.

    Buddha is slandered in Thawattie -- Questions put to him by
    a pounha -- Story of Anatapein's daughter -- Conversion of a
    pounha whose navel emitted rays of light -- Blank in a great
    part of Buddha's life -- Story of Dewadat -- His jealousy
    towards Buddha -- His friendship with Prince Adzatathat -- His
    ambition -- His attempt to kill Buddha -- His miserable end.     256




LEGEND OF THE BURMESE BUDDHA

CALLED

GAUDAMA.




CHAPTER I.

    _Invocation of the Burmese translator -- Slow but steady progress
    of Phralaong towards the Buddhaship -- Promise made to him by the
    Buddha Deipinkara -- Origin and beginning of the Kapilawot country
    and of its Rulers -- Birth of Thoodaudana -- His marriage with the
    Princess Maia -- Rumour of the coming birth of a Buddha -- Phralaong
    in the seat of Nats -- Dream of Maia -- Conception of
    Phralaong -- Wonders attending that event._


I adore[1] Buddha who has gloriously emerged from the bottomless
whirlpool of endless existences, who has extinguished the burning fire
of anger and other passions, who has opened and illuminated the
fathomless abyss of dark ignorance, and who is the greatest and most
excellent of all beings.

I adore the Law which the most excellent Buddha has published, which is
infinitely high and incomparably profound, exceedingly acceptable, and
most earnestly wished-for by Nats and men, capable to wipe off the
stains of concupiscence, and is immutable.

I adore the Assembly of the Perfect, of the pure and illustrious Ariahs
in their eight sublime states, who have overcome all the passions that
torment other mortals, by eradicating the very root of concupiscence,
and who are famous above all other beings.

I undertake to translate from the Pali[2] text the history of our most
excellent Phra, from the period he left Toocita,[3] the fourth abode of
Nats, to the time he entered into the state of Neibban.

Previous, however, to commencing the work, I will relate succinctly what
is found in our books respecting the great Being who, by a slow but sure
process, was qualifying himself for his great and high destiny. It is
stated that all the following particulars were narrated by Gaudama
himself to the great disciple Thariputra.

For seven thingies of worlds, he who was to become a Buddha felt, during
that immense number of revolutions of nature, a thought for the
Buddhaship awakening in his soul. This thought was succeeded by a wish,
a desire, and a longing for that extraordinary calling. He began to
understand that the practice of the virtues of the highest order was
requisite to enable him to attain the glorious object of his ardent
wishes, and no less than 125,000 Buddhas appeared during that space of
time.

When the above period had at last come to an end, the inward workings of
his soul prompted him to ask openly for the Buddhaship. The period of
asking lasted nine thingies of worlds. It was brightened and illustrated
by the successive manifestation of 987,000 Buddhas. In the beginning of
this latter period, the future Gaudama was a prince of the name of
Laukatara, ruler of the Nanda country. At that time there appeared in
the country of Kapilawot a Buddha called Thakiamuni Paurana Gaudama. As
he happened to travel through the Nanda country, with the twofold object
of preaching the law and begging for his food, the ruler Laukatara made
great offerings to him. Meanwhile, with a marked earnestness, he
solicited at the feet of Thakiamuni the favour of becoming, at some
future time, a Buddha like himself. He expressed the wish to be born in
the same country, from the same father and mother, to have for his wife
the very same queen, to ride the same horse, to be attended by the same
companions and the same two great disciples on the right and on the
left. To this request Thakiamuni replied in the affirmative, but he
added that an immense length of time had still to elapse ere the objects
of his petition could be fully granted. A similar application was
repeatedly made to all the other succeeding Buddhas, and a like promise
was held out to him.

The third period of four thingies of worlds was remarkable for the
complete absence of all that could enlighten or illustrate the various
states of existence. A complete moral and intellectual darkness was
spread over all beings, and kept them wrapped up in utter darkness. No
Buddhas, no Pitzekabuddhas appeared to illuminate by their doctrine and
science the minds of men. No Tsekiawade, or king of the world, made his
appearance to infuse life and energy in the midst of the universal
slumbering.

But the hundred thousand revolutions of nature that followed were more
fortunate. There flourished no less than twenty-seven Buddhas, from
Tahingara, the first in the series, to Kathaba, the last one immediately
preceding Gaudama.

During the period when the Buddha named Deipinkara was the teacher of
all beings, our future Gaudama was born in the country of Amarawatti,
from illustrious and rich parents belonging to the caste of Pounhas.

While still a youth, he lost both his parents and inherited their
property.

In the midst of pleasure and plenty he one day made this
reflection:--The riches that I now possess were my parents' property,
but they have not been able to save them from the miseries attending
death. They will not, alas! afford to me a better and more secure fate.
When I go into the grave, they will not come along with me. This bodily
frame I am clad in is not worthy to be pitied. Why should I bestow signs
of compassion upon it? Filled with impurities, burdened by rottenness,
it has all the elements of destruction in the compounded parts of its
existence. Towards Neibban I will turn my regards; upon it my eyes shall
be riveted. There is the tank in which all the impurities of passion may
be washed away. Now I will forsake everything, and go forthwith in
search of a teacher that will point out to me the way that leads to the
state Neibban.

Full of these thoughts, the young man gave away to the needy all that he
possessed, reserving nothing to himself. Freed from the trammels of
riches, he withdrew into a lonely place, where the Nats had prepared
beforehand all that was necessary to minister to his wants. He embraced
the profession or mode of life of a Rahan, or perfect. Attired in the
dress of his new profession, he lived for some time on this spot under
the name of Thoomeda. Displeased, however, with the too easy mode of
life he was leading, he left that spot, and contented himself with
dwelling under the shade of trees. He, however, went forth from time to
time in quest of his food.

A few years previous to the retirement of Thoomeda into solitude, he who
was to be the Buddha Deipinkara migrated from one of the Nats' seats,
and was incarnated in the womb of the Princess Thoomeda, wife of
Thoodewa, king of the Ramawatti country. Subsequently he was married to
the Princess Padouma, who bore unto him a son, named Oothabakanda. On
the same year in which the child was born, the king left his palace on
an elephant's back, withdrew into some lonely place, practised during
ten months all sorts of self-inflicted penances, and, under the shade of
the tree Gniaong Kiat, became a Buddha. On that occasion the earth
quivered with great violence, but the hermit Thoomeda, being in ecstasy
at that moment, knew nothing of the extraordinary occurrence.

On a certain day, Deipinkara was travelling through the country for the
twofold purpose of preaching the law and collecting his food. Arrived
near a place where the road was very bad, he stopped for a while until
the road should be made passable. The people hastened from all parts to
come and prepare the road for Deipinkara and his followers. Thoomeda,
gifted with the privilege of travelling through the air, happened to
pass over the spot where crowds of people were busily engaged in
preparing and levelling a road. The hermit alighted on that spot, and
inquired of the people what was the reason of their busy exertions. They
told him that the most excellent Deipinkara was expected with a large
retinue of disciples, and that they strained every nerve to have the
road ready for them. Thoomeda begged to be permitted to bear a part in
the good work, and asked that a certain extent of the road be assigned
to him as his task. His request was granted, and he forthwith set to
work with the greatest diligence. It was all but finished when Buddha
Deipinkara, followed by forty thousand disciples, made his appearance.
Thoomeda, actuated by an ardent desire of testifying his respect to the
holy personage, without a moment's hesitation flung himself into the
hollow that was as yet not filled, and lying on his belly, with his back
upwards, bridged the place, and entreated the Buddha and his followers
to cross the hollow by trampling over his body. Great and abundant shall
be the merits that I, said he within himself, shall gain by this good
work. No doubt I will receive from the mouth of Deipinkara the assurance
that I shall, hereafter, obtain the Buddhaship. The Buddha, standing
over him, admired the humble and fervent devotedness of Thoomeda. With
one glance he perceived all that was going on in the hermit's mind, and
with a loud voice, that could be heard by all his disciples, he assured
him that four thingies and one hundred thousand worlds hence he would
become a Buddha, the fourth that would appear during the world, called
Badda. He went on to describe minutely the principal events that were to
illustrate his future career. No sooner was this revelation made to him
than Thoomeda hastened back to his forest. Sitting at the foot of a
tree, he encouraged himself by fine comparisons to the practice of
those virtues that were best suited to weaken in him the influence of
the passions.

In the different existences that followed, Thoomeda, at all the periods
of the appearance of some Buddhas, received a confirmation of the
promise he had had from the lips of Deipinkara.

This present world we live in has been favoured above all others.
Already three Buddhas have appeared, viz., Kaukkasan, Gaunagong, and
Kathaba. These all belonged to the caste of Pounhas, and he who was to
be hereafter our Gaudama, during the many existences he passed through,
at the time of the manifestations of those three Buddhas, was always
born of the same caste. Kathaba is said to have lived and preached
during the ninth andrakap. It was he who, for the last time, assured the
future Gaudama that he would obtain the Buddhaship during the tenth
andrakap.

We will only mention his last existence in the seat of man, previous to
the one in which he was to obtain the great prize he had laboured for
with so much earnestness during innumerable existences. He became prince
under the name of Wethandra, and practised to an eminent, nay heroic,
degree the virtues of liberality and charity. To such an extent did he
obey the dictates of his liberal heart, that, after having given away
all the royal treasures, his white elephant, &c., he did not shrink from
parting with his own wife, the Princess Madi, and his two children,
Dzali and Gahna. He then died and migrated to the Toocita seat, and
enjoyed the blissfulness and felicity of Nats, under the name of
Saytakaytoo, during fifty-seven koudes of years.

The origin and beginning of the Kapilawot country, as well as of its
rulers, are to be alluded to as briefly as possible. In the country of
the middle, Mitzimadesa, the kings that ruled from the time of
Mahathamadat to that of Ookakaritz, king of Benares, were 252,556 in
number. The last-named monarch was married to five wives, and had
children by them all. The first queen happening to die, the king became
passionately enamoured of a young woman, whom he married. She soon
presented him with a son, whom the king, pressed by his young wife's
solicitations, declared heir-apparent, to the prejudice of his elder
sons. As might have been expected, the four elder sons loudly complained
of the preference given to their younger brother. To put an end to these
domestic disputes, the king called his four sons and their five sisters,
gave them a large retinue, and bade them go in a northerly direction, in
search of a spot favourable for building a new city. They followed their
father's advice. After long wandering through the forests, they came to
a place where lived the Rathee Kapila, who, becoming acquainted with the
object of their errand, desired them to stay with him and found a city.
He also wished that on the very spot where his hut stood the king's
palace should be erected. He predicted that this city would become
great, powerful, and illustrious; that it would be a city of peace,
since the animals in the forests lived peaceably, without ever
attempting to inflict harm on each other. The proposal was cheerfully
accepted. All the people set to work with great earnestness. When the
work was completed, they offered the new city to Kapila, who was made
their teacher. Hence the name of Kapilawottoo, or Kapilawot.

The four princes, finding that among their followers there were no
daughters of the royal race whom they could marry, resolved, in order to
keep pure the blood-royal, to marry their four youngest sisters. The
eldest one was raised to the dignity of queen-mother. Ookamukka, the
eldest of the brothers, was the first king of Kapilawot. Whilst these
things were taking place, the king of Benares, having been attacked with
leprosy, had left his throne and retired to a forest north of his
capital. There he found his cure under the shade of the kalau tree. At
the same time the eldest sister, named Peya, who had become
queen-mother, was seized with the same distemper, and went into the
same forest. She met with the king, whom she knew not. By his advice she
sat under the kalau tree, and the beneficent smell of the leaves soon
worked a perfect cure. They were subsequently married, and had a
numerous progeny. They settled on this spot, and built the city of
Kaulya. The small river Rohani flowed between Kaulya and Kapilawot.[A]

    [A] When laying before the reader a short and concise account
    of the being who was to become the Buddha called Gaudama, the
    writer deems it necessary to make a general observation, which,
    he hopes, will greatly help the reader to understand correctly
    several passages of the following pages. Gaudama was a Hindu,
    brought up by Hindu masters, and initiated in all the knowledge
    possessed by the society he lived in. He accepted the fabulous
    genealogies of kings such as they were found in the writings
    of his days. The same may be said of the erroneous notions
    respecting our globe, the size and motions of the sun and the
    moon and other heavenly bodies, the explanations of many natural
    phenomena, the description of hell, of the seats of reward, &c.
    Teacher as he was of moral precepts, based upon metaphysical
    principles, Gaudama concerned himself very little about these
    things, which, in his eyes, were not worth the consideration
    of a sage. But he, or more probably his disciples, availed
    themselves of these notions for resting upon them some portions
    of their system, and giving them such developments as best
    suited their views. These notions, though wedded to the
    religious system originated by Gaudama, do not, strictly
    speaking, belong to it. They existed before his appearance in
    the schools of philosophy; they formed a part of the stock of
    knowledge possessed by the society in which he was reared. To
    account properly for these particulars and many others belonging
    to the disciplinary regulations, recourse must be had to the
    study of the ancient religion of the Hindus, Brahminism.

    In the account of the foundation of the Kapilawot city, we find
    that the practice of leaving the eldest sister unmarried, and
    of the princes marrying their own sisters, is up to this day
    observed by the royal family of Burmah. The eldest daughter of
    the reigning monarch is to remain unmarried during her parents'
    life, and the first queen is often, if not always, the sister or
    half-sister of the king. The same unnatural practice prevailed
    in the royal family of the ancient Persians.

From Ookamukka, the first king of Kapilawot, to Prince Wethandra, there
are but seven successive kings. From Dzali, the son of Wethandra, to
Dzeyathana, the great-grandfather of Gaudama, there were 82,002 kings.
Let it be borne in mind, that, during that period of time, our
Phralaong, or future of Gaudama, was in one of the Nats' seats. The
princes of Kapilawot were wont to go and sport on the water of a lake
somewhat distant from the city. They at first erected a temporary place
of residence in the vicinity of that sheet of water, and finally built a
city which received the name of Dewaha. It had likewise its kings of the
same Thagiwi race. Dzeyathana, the king of Kapilawot, had a son named
Thiahanoo, and a daughter named Yathaudara. Aukaka, king of Dewaha, his
contemporary, had also a son and a daughter, Eetzana and Kitzana.
Thiahanoo was married to Kitzana, who bore unto him five sons,
Thoodaudana, Kanwaudana, Thoukkaudana, Thekkaudana, and Amittaudana; and
two daughters, Amita and Pilita. Eetzana, the son of the king of Dewa,
married Yathaudara, daughter of Dzeyathana, king of Kapilawot. From this
marriage were born two sons, Thoopabuddha and Dantapani, and two
daughters, Maia and Patzapati.

When Eetzana became king of Dewaha, a considerable error had crept into
the calendar. A correction was deemed necessary. There lived a
celebrated hermit, or Rathee, named Deweela, well versed in the science
of calculation. After several consultations held on this important
subject in the presence of the king, it was agreed that the Kaudza era
of 8640 years should be done away with on a Saturday, the first of the
moon of Tabaong, and that the new era should be made to begin on a
Sunday, on the first day of the waxing moon of the month Tagoo. This was
called the Eetzana era.

On the 10th of the new era, Thoodaudana was born in the city of
Kapilawot; and on the twelfth year, Maia was born at Dewaha. In the days
of the Buddha Wipathi, the future Maia was then the daughter of a
Pounha. Her father, who tenderly loved her, gave her one day a fine
nosegay with a great quantity of the choicest perfumes and essences. The
young girl, delighted with these articles, hastened to the place where
lived Wipathi, and with pious and fervent earnestness laid at his feet
all that she had received from her father. Wipathi, admiring the fervent
liberality of the damsel, assured her that she would hereafter become
the mother of a Buddha, who was to be called Gaudama.

When Thoodaudana was eighteen years of age, his father, King Thiahanoo,
called eight Pounhas skilled in the science of astrology, and directed
them to go with a large retinue and splendid presents in search of a
royal princess to be married to his son. The eight Pounhas departed.
They visited several countries, but all in vain; they could not find one
princess worthy of their master's son. At last they came to the city of
Dewaha. They had no sooner arrived in sight of it than they saw many
signs which prognosticated that in the city would be found an
accomplished princess, in every respect qualified to become the wife of
the heir to the throne of Kapilawot. At that time the young Maia had
gone to enjoy herself in a garden outside the city. It was situated on a
gently sloping ground, covered with all sorts of the finest and rarest
trees. A small brook, winding its course in various directions, shed on
every hand, from its gently murmuring waters, a delicious freshness.
Thither the royal messengers resorted. They found the princess in the
midst of her companions, outshining them all in beauty, like the moon
among the stars. Admitted into her presence, the head of the deputation
attempted to speak and explain the object of his visit; but he was so
much overwhelmed by the beauty and the graceful and dignified appearance
of the princess, that his voice failed him, and he fainted three times
in succession. As each fit came on him several damsels ran to his
assistance with pitchers of fresh water, and brought him back to his
senses. Having recovered his spirits, the chief Pounha felt encouraged
by some graceful and kind words from the lips of the princess. He
explained to her, in the choicest expressions, the object of his
mission; and with a faltering and timid tone of voice stated to her that
he had come to entreat her to accept presents from, and the hand of,
Prince Thoodaudana. Meanwhile he poured at her feet the brightest jewels
and rarest articles. The princess, with a sweet voice, modestly replied
that she was under the protection and care of her beloved parents, whose
will she never resisted; that it was to them that this affair should be
referred. For her own part, she had but one thing to do--to abide by her
parents' wishes.

Satisfied with the answer, the Pounhas retired, and hastened to the
palace of King Eetzana, to whom they related all that had just happened.
The king graciously agreed to the proposal, and, in proof of his perfect
satisfaction, sent in return a deputation with many presents to Prince
Thoodaudana and his father. As might be expected, the royal messengers
were well received at Kapilawot. Thiahanoo and his son set out with a
countless retinue for the city of Dewaha. In a grove of mango-trees an
immense building was erected, out of the city, for their reception and
accommodation; and in the middle of that building a spacious hall was
arranged with infinite art for the marriage ceremony. When all the
preparations were completed, the bridegroom, attended by his father,
King Thiahanoo and the chief of Brahmas, went out to meet the bride, who
was coming from the garden, accompanied by her mother and the wife of
the great Thagia. Both advanced towards the centre of the hall, near a
stand raised for the occasion. Thoodaudana first stretched forth his
hand and laid it over that place. Maia gracefully did the same. They
then took each other's hands, in token of the mutual consent. At that
auspicious moment all the musical instruments resounded, and proclaimed
in gladdening airs the happy event. The Pounhas, holding the sacred
shell in their hands, poured the blessed water over their heads,
uttering all sorts of blessings. The parents and relatives joined in
invoking upon the young couple the choicest benedictions. The king,
princes, Pounhas, and nobles vied with each other in making presents,
and wishing them all sorts of happiness.

When the festival was over, Thiahanoo desired to go back to his country
with his son and daughter-in-law. This was done with the utmost pomp
and solemnity. On his return, he continued to govern his people with
great prudence and wisdom, and at last died and migrated to one of the
Nats' seats. He was succeeded by his son Thoodaudana, who, with his
amiable wife, religiously observed the five precepts and the ten rules
of kings. By his beneficence and liberality to all, he won the sincere
affection of his people. It was on the twenty-eighth year of the new era
that he was married. Soon after, he took for his second wife, Patzapati,
the youngest sister of Maia. Thoodaudana's sister, Amitau, was married
to Thouppabuddha, the son of king Eetzana.

About four thingies,[4] an hundred thousand worlds ago,[5] the most
excellent Buddha, who is infinitely wise and far superior to the three
orders of beings, the Brahmas, the Nats,[6] and men, received at the
feet of the Phra Deipinkara the assurance that he would afterwards
become himself a Buddha. At this time he was a Rathee,[7] under the
name of Thoomeda. During that immense space of time, he practised in the
highest degree the ten great virtues, the five renouncings, and the
three mighty works of perfection.[8] Having become a great prince[9]
under the name of Wethandra, he reached the acme of self-abnegation and
renouncement to all the things of this world. After his death, he
migrated to Toocita, the fourth abode of Nats. During his sojourn in
that happy place, enjoying the fulness of pleasure allotted to the
fortunate inhabitants of those blissful regions, a sudden and uncommon
rumour, accompanied with an extraordinary commotion proclaimed the
gladdening tidings that a Phra was soon to make his appearance in this
world.[B]

    [B] _Remark of the Burmese translator._--There are three solemn
    occasions on which this great rumour is noised abroad. The
    first, when the Nats, guardians of this world, knowing that
    100,000 years hence the end of this world is to come, show
    themselves amongst men with their heads hanging down, a
    sorrowful countenance, and tears streaming down their faces.
    They are clad in a red dress, and proclaim aloud to all mortals
    the destruction of this planet 100,000 years hence. They
    earnestly call upon men to devote themselves to the observance
    of the law, to the practice of virtue, the support of parents,
    and the respect due to virtuous personages. The second occasion
    is, when the same Nats proclaim to men that a thousand years
    hence a Buddha or Phra will appear amongst them; and the third
    is, when they come and announce to men that within a hundred
    years there will be in this world a mighty prince, whose
    unlimited sway shall extend over the four great islands.

On hearing that a Phra was soon to make his appearance amongst men, all
the Nats, the peaceful inhabitants of the fortunate abode of Toocita,
assembled in all haste and crowded around Phralaong,[10] eagerly
inquiring of him, who was the fortunate Nat to whom was reserved the
signal honour of attaining the incomparable dignity of Buddha. The
reason which directed their steps towards Phralaong, and suggested their
inquiry, was, that in him were already to be observed unmistakable
signs, foreshadowing his future greatness.

No sooner did it become known that this incomparable destination was to
be his happy lot, than Nats from all parts of the world resorted to the
abode of Toocita, to meet Phralaong and to congratulate him upon this
happy occasion. "Most glorious Nat," did they say to him, "you have
practised most perfectly the ten great virtues;[11] the time is now
come for you to obtain the sublime nature of Buddha. During former
existences, you most rigidly attended to the observance of the greatest
precepts, and walked steadily in the path of the highest virtues; you
then sighed after and longed for the happiness of Nats and Brahmas; but
now you have most gloriously achieved the mightiest work, and reached
the acme of perfection. It remains with you only to aspire at the full
possession of the supreme intelligence, which will enable you to open to
all Brahmas, Nats, and men the way to the deliverance from those endless
series of countless existences[12] through which they are doomed to
pass. Now the light of the law is extinguished, a universal darkness has
overspread all minds. Men are more than ever slaves to their passions;
there is a total lack of love among them; they hate each other, keep up
quarrels, strifes and contentions, and mercilessly destroy each other.
You alone can free them from the vicissitudes and miseries essentially
connected with the present state of all beings. The time is at last
come, when you are to become a Buddha."

Unwilling to return at once a positive answer, Phralaong modestly
replied that he wanted some time to inquire particularly into the great
circumstances always attending the coming of a Buddha in this world,
viz., the epoch or time when a Buddha appears, the place which he
chooses for his apparition or manifestation, the race or caste he is to
be born from, and the age and quality of her who is to be his mother. As
regards the first circumstance, Phralaong observed that the apparition
of a Buddha could not have taken place during the previous period[13] of
100,000 years and more that had just elapsed, because during that
period the life of men was on the increase. The instructions on birth
and death, as well as on the miseries of life, which form the true
characteristics of Buddha's law, would not then be received with
sufficient interest and attention. Had any attempt been made at that
time to preach on these three great topics, the men of those days, to
whom those great events would have appeared so distant, could not have
been induced to look upon them with sufficient attention; the four great
truths would have made no impression on their minds; vain and fruitless
would have been the efforts to disentangle them from the ties of
passions, then encompassing all beings, and to make them sigh after the
deliverance from the miseries entailed upon mankind by birth, life, and
death. The period when human life is under a hundred years' duration
cannot at all be the proper period for such an important event, as the
passions of men are then so many and so deeply rooted that Buddha would
in vain attempt to preach his law. As the characters which a man traces
over the smooth surface of unruffled water instantly disappear without
leaving any mark behind, so the law and instructions that one should
attempt to spread on the hardened hearts of men would make no lasting
impression upon them. Hence he concluded that the present period, when
the life of men was of about a hundred years' duration, was the proper
one for the apparition of a Buddha. This first point having been
disposed of, Phralaong examined in what part of the globe a Buddha was
to appear.

His regards glanced over the four great islands[14] and the 2000 small
ones. He saw that the island of Dzapoudiba, the southern one, had always
been the favourite place selected by all former Buddhas; he fixed upon
it, too, for himself. That island, however, is a most extensive one,
measuring in length 300 youdzanas, in breadth 252, and in circumference
900. He knew that on that island former Buddhas and semi-Buddhas, the
two great Rahandas,[15] or disciples of the right and left, the prince
whose sway is universal, &c., had all of them invariably fixed upon and
selected that island, and, amidst the various countries on the island,
that of Mitzima, the central one, where is to be found the district of
Kapilawot. "Thither," said he, "shall I resort, and become a Buddha."

Having determined the place which he was to select for his terrestrial
seat, Phralaong examined the race or caste from which he was to be born.
The caste of the people and that of merchants appeared too low, and
much wanting in respectability, and, moreover, no Buddha had ever come
out therefrom. That of the Pounhas was in former times the most
illustrious and respected, but that of princes, in those days, far
surpassed it in power and consideration. He therefore fixed his choice
upon the caste of princes, as most becoming his future high calling. "I
choose," said he, "prince Thoodaudana for my father. As to the princess
who is to become my mother, she must be distinguished by a modest
deportment and chaste manners, and must never have tasted any
intoxicating drink. During the duration of 100,000 worlds she must have
lived in the practice of virtue, performing with a scrupulous exactitude
all the rules and observances prescribed by the law. The great and
glorious Princess Maia is the only person in whom all these conditions
are to be found. Moreover, the period of her life shall be at an end ten
months and seven days hence;[16] she shall be my mother."

Having thus maturely pondered over these four circumstances, Phralaong,
turning to the Nats that surrounded him, anxiously expecting his answer,
plainly and unreservedly told them that the time for his becoming Buddha
had arrived, and bade them forthwith communicate this great news to all
the Brahmas and Nats. He rose up, and, accompanied by all the Nats of
Toocita, withdrew into the delightful garden of Nandawon. After a short
sojourn in that place, he left the abode of Nats, descended into the
seat of men, and incarnated in the womb of the glorious Maia, who at
once understood that she was pregnant with a boy who would obtain the
Buddhaship. At the same moment also the Princess Yathaudara, who was to
be the wife of the son of Maia, descended from the seats of Nats, and
was conceived in the womb of Amitau, the wife of Prince Thouppabuddha.

At that time the inhabitants of Kapilawot were busily engaged in
celebrating, in the midst of extraordinary rejoicings, the festival of
the constellation of Outarathan (July-August). But the virtuous Maia,
without mixing amidst the crowds of those devoted to amusements, during
the seven days that preceded the full moon of July, spent her time among
her attendants, making offerings of flowers and perfumes. The day before
the full moon she rose up at an early hour, bathed in perfumed water,
and distributed to the needy four hundred thousand pieces of silver.
Attired in her richest dress, she took her meal, and religiously
performed all the pious observances usual on such occasions. This being
done, she entered into her private apartment, and, lying on her couch,
fell asleep and had the following dream:--

       *       *       *       *       *

Four princes of Nats, of the abode of Tsadoomarit, took the princess
with her couch, carried it to the Mount Himawonta,[17] and deposited it
on an immense and magnificent rock, sixty youdzanas long, adorned with
various colours, at the spot where a splendid tree, seven youdzanas
high, extends its green and rich foliage. The four queens, wives of the
four princes of Tsadoomarit, approaching the couch where Maia was
reclining, took her to the banks of the lake Anawadat, washed her with
the water of the lake, and spread over the couch flowers brought from
the abode of Nats. Near the lake is a beautiful mountain of a silvery
appearance, the summit whereof is crowned with a magnificent and lofty
palace. On the east of the palace, in the side of the mount, is a
splendid cave. Within the cave, a bed similar to that of the Nats was
prepared. The princess was led to that place and sat on the bed,
enjoying a delicious and refreshing rest. Opposite this mount, and
facing the cave where Maia sat surrounded by her attendants, rose
another mount, where Phralaong, under the shape of a young white
elephant, was roaming over its sides in various directions. He was soon
seen coming down that hill, and, ascending the one where the princess
lay on her bed, directed his course towards the cave. On the extremity
of his trunk, lifted up like a beautiful string of flowers, he carried a
white lily. His voice, occasionally resounding through the air, could be
heard distinctly by the inmates of the grotto, and indicated his
approach. He soon entered the cave, turned three times round the couch
whereupon sat the princess, then, standing for a while, he came nearer,
opened her right side, and appeared to conceal himself in her womb.

In the morning, having awoke from her sleep, the queen related her dream
to her husband. King Thoodaudana sent without delay for sixty-four
Pounhas.[18] On a ground lined with cow-dung, where parched rice,
flowers, and other offerings were carefully deposited and profusely
spread, an appropriate place was reserved for the Pounhas. Butter, milk,
and honey were served out to them in vases of gold and silver; moreover,
several suits of apparel and five cows were offered to each of them as
presents, as well as many other articles. These preliminaries being
arranged, the prince narrated to them the dream, with a request for its
explanation.

"Prince," answered the Pounhas, "banish from your mind all anxious
thoughts, and be of a cheerful heart; the child whom the princess bears
in her womb is not a girl but a boy. He will, after growing up, either
live amongst men, and then become a mighty ruler, whose sway all the
human race will acknowledge; or, withdrawing from the tumult of society,
he will resort to some solitary place, and there embrace the profession
of Rahan. In that condition he will disentangle himself from the
miseries attending existence, and at last attain the high dignity of
Buddha." Such was the explanation of the dream. At the moment Phralaong
entered into Maia's womb, a great commotion was felt throughout the four
elements, and thirty-two wonders simultaneously appeared. A light of an
incomparable brightness illuminated suddenly ten thousand worlds. The
blind, desirous, as it were, to contemplate the glorious dignity of
Phralaong, recovered their sight; the deaf heard distinctly every sound;
the dumb spoke with fluency; those whose bodies were bent stood up in an
erect position; the lame walked with ease and swiftness; prisoners saw
their fetters unloosed, and found themselves restored to liberty; the
fires of hell were extinguished; the ravenous cravings of the
Preithas[19] were satiated; animals were exempt from all infirmities;
all rational beings uttered but words of peace and mutual benevolence;
horses exhibited signs of excessive joy; elephants, with a solemn and
deep voice, expressed their contentment; musical instruments resounded
of themselves with the most melodious harmony; gold and silver
ornaments, worn at the arms and feet, without coming in contact, emitted
pleasing sounds; all places became suddenly filled with a resplendent
light; refreshing breezes blew gently all over the earth; abundant rain
poured from the skies during the hot season, and springs of cool water
burst out in every place, carrying through prepared beds their gently
murmuring streams; birds of the air stood still, forgetting their usual
flight; rivers suspended their course, seized with a mighty
astonishment; sea water became fresh; the five sorts of lilies were to
be seen in every direction; every description of flowers burst open,
displaying the richness of their brilliant colours; from the branches of
all trees and the bosom of the hardest rocks, flowers shot forth,
exhibiting all around the most glowing, dazzling, and varied hues;
lilies, seemingly rooted in the canopy of the skies, hung down,
scattering their embalmed fragrance; showers of flowers poured from the
firmament on the surface of the earth; the musical tunes of the Nats
were heard by the rejoiced inhabitants of our globe; hundreds of
thousands of worlds[20] suddenly approached each other, sometimes in the
shape of an elegant nosegay, sometimes in that of a ball of flowers or
of a spheroid; the choicest essences embalmed the whole atmosphere that
encompasses this world. Such are the wonders that took place at the time
Phralaong entered his mother's womb.

When this great event happened, four chiefs of Nats, from the seat of
Tsadoomarit,[21] armed with swords, kept an uninterrupted watch round
the palace, to avert any accident that might prove hurtful to the mother
or her blessed fruit. From 10,000 worlds, four Nats from the same seat
were actively engaged in driving away all Bilous[22] and other monsters,
and forcing them to flee and hide themselves at the extremity of the
earth. Maia, free from every disordered propensity, spent her time with
her handmaids in the interior of her apartments. Her soul enjoyed, in
a perfect calm, the sweetest happiness; fatigue and weariness never
affected her unimpaired health. In his mother's womb, Phralaong appeared
like the white thread passed through the purest and finest pearls; the
womb itself resembled an elegant Dzedi.[23][C]

    [C] _Remark of the Burmese Translator._--It is to be borne in
    mind that mothers of Buddhas having had the singular privilege
    of giving birth to a child of so exalted a dignity, it would not
    be convenient or becoming that other mortals should receive life
    in the same womb; they therefore always die seven days after
    their delivery and migrate to the abode of Nats, called Toocita.
    It is usual with other mothers to be delivered, lying in an
    horizontal position, and sometimes before or after the tenth
    month. But with the mother of a Buddha the case is not the same;
    the time of her confinement invariably happens at the beginning
    of the tenth month, and she is always delivered in an erect and
    vertical position.

With the solicitous care and vigilant attention with which one carries
about a thabeit[24] full of oil, the great Maia watched all her
movements, and during ten months unremittingly laboured for the safe
preservation of the precious fruit of her womb.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] All Buddhistic compositions are invariably prefaced with one
    of the following formulas of worship, always used by writers on
    religious subjects. The one relates to Buddha alone, and the
    other to the three most excellent things, ever deserving the
    highest veneration. The first, always written in Pali, beginning
    with the words _Namau tassa_, may be translated as follows: I
    adore thee, or rather adoration to, the blessed, perfect, and
    most intelligent. Here are proposed to the faith, admiration,
    and veneration of a true Buddhist, the three great
    characteristics of the founder of his religion, his goodness and
    benevolence, his supreme perfection, and his boundless
    knowledge. They form the essential qualifications of a being who
    has assumed to himself the task of bringing men out of the abyss
    of darkness and ignorance, and leading them to deliverance.
    Benevolence prompts him to undertake that great work, perfection
    fits him for such a high calling, and supreme science enables
    him to follow it up with a complete success. They are always
    held out to Buddhists as the three bright attributes and
    transcendent qualities inherent in that exalted personage, which
    are ever to attract and concentrate upon him the respect, love,
    and admiration of all his sincere followers.

    The second formula may be considered as a short act of faith
    often repeated by Buddhists. It consists in saying--I take
    refuge in Buddha, the Law, and the Assembly. This short
    profession of faith is often much enlarged by the religious zeal
    of writers and the fervent piety of devotees. From the instance
    of this legend we may remark how the compiler, with a soul
    warmed by fervour is passing high encomiums upon each of the
    three sacred objects of veneration, or the sacred asylums
    wherein a Buddhist delights to dwell. There is no doubt that
    this formula is a very ancient one, probably coeval with the
    first age of Buddhism. The text of this legend bears out the
    correctness of this assertion. It appears that the repetition of
    this short sentence was the mark that distinguished converts.
    Ordinary hearers of the preachings of Buddha and his disciples
    evinced their adhesion to all that was delivered to them by
    repeating the sacred formula. It was then, and even now it is to
    Buddhists, what the celebrated Mahomedan declaration of
    faith--there is but one God, and Mahomed is his prophet--is to
    the followers of the Arabian Prophet. It is extremely important
    to have an accurate idea of the three sacred abodes in which the
    believer expects to find a sure shelter against all errors,
    doubts, and fears, and a resting-place where his soul may
    securely enjoy the undisturbed possession of truth. They
    constitute what is emphatically called the three precious
    things.

    Phra and Buddha are two expressions which, though not having the
    same meaning, are used indiscriminately to designate the almost
    divine being, who after having gone, during myriads of
    successive existences, through the practice of all sorts of
    virtues, particularly self-denial and complete abnegation of all
    things, at last reaches to such a height of intellectual
    attainment that his mind becomes gifted with a perfect and
    universal intelligence or knowledge of all things. He is thus
    enabled to see and fathom the misery and wants of all mortal
    beings, and to devise means for relieving and filling them up.
    The law that he preaches is the wholesome balm designed to cure
    all moral distempers. He preaches it with unremitting zeal
    during a certain number of years, and commissions his chosen
    disciples to carry on the same benevolent and useful
    undertaking. Having laid on a firm basis his religious
    institution, he arrives at the state of Neibban. Buddha means
    wise, intelligent. Phra is an expression conveying the highest
    sense of respect, which was applied originally only to the
    author of Buddhism, but now, through a servile adulation, it is
    applied to the king, his ministers, all great personages, and
    often by inferiors to the lowest menials of Government. The word
    Phra, coupled with that of Thaking, which means Lord, is used by
    Christians in Burmah to express the idea of God, the supreme
    being.

    From the foregoing lines the reader may easily infer that the
    author of Buddhism is a mere man, superior to all other beings,
    not in nature, but in science and perfection. He lays no claim
    whatever to any kind of superiority in nature; he exhibits
    himself to the eyes of his disciples as one of the children of
    men, who has been born and is doomed to die. He carries his
    pretensions no farther. The idea of a supreme being is nowhere
    mentioned by him. In the course of his religious disputations
    with the Brahmins, he combats the notion of a god, coolly
    establishing the most crude atheism. No one, it is true, can
    deny that in certain Buddhistic countries the notion of an
    Adibudha, or supreme being, is to be found in writings as well
    as popular opinions, but we know that these writings are of a
    comparatively recent date, and contain many doctrines foreign to
    genuine Buddhism. This subject will, however, receive hereafter
    further developments.

    The Law, the second object of veneration, is the body of
    doctrines delivered by Buddha to his disciples during the
    forty-five years of his public career. He came to the perfect
    knowledge of that law when he attained the Buddhaship under the
    shade of the Bodi tree. At that time his mind became
    indefinitely expanded; his science embraced all that exists; his
    penetrating and searching eye reached the farthest limits of the
    past, saw at a glance the present, and fathomed the secrets of
    the future. In that position, unclouded truth shone with radiant
    effulgence before him, and he knew the nature of all beings
    individually, their condition and situation, as well as all the
    relations subsisting between them. He understood at once the
    miseries and errors attending all rational beings, the hidden
    causes that generated them, and the springs they issued from. At
    the same time he perceived distinctly the means to be employed
    for putting an end to so many misfortunes, and the remedies to
    be used for the cure of those numberless and sad moral
    distempers. His omniscience pointed out to him the course those
    beings had to follow in order to retrace their steps back from
    the way of error, and enter the road that would lead to the
    coming out from the whirlpool of moral miseries in which they
    had hitherto wretchedly moved during countless existences. All
    that Gaudama said to the foregoing effect constitutes the law
    upon which so many high praises are lavished with such warm and
    fervent earnestness. A full and complete knowledge of that law,
    in the opinion of Buddhists, dispels at once the clouds of
    ignorance, which, like a thick mist, encompass all beings, and
    sheds bright rays of pure light which enlighten the
    understanding. Man is thus enabled to perceive distinctly the
    wretchedness of his position, and to discover the means
    wherewith he may extricate himself from the trammels of the
    passions and finally arrive at the state of Neibban, which is,
    as it shall be hereafter fully explained, exemption from all the
    miseries attending existence. The whole law is divided into
    three parts; the Abidama or metaphysics, Thouts or moral
    instructions, and the Wini or discipline. According to the
    opinion of the best informed among Buddhists, the law is
    eternal, without a beginning or an author that might have framed
    its precepts. No Buddha ever considered himself, or has ever
    been looked upon by others, as the inventor and originator of
    the law. He who becomes a Buddha is gifted with a boundless
    science that enables him to come to a perfect knowledge of all
    that constitutes the law: he is the fortunate discoverer of
    things already existing, but placed far beyond the reach of the
    human mind. In fact, the law is eternal, but has become, since
    the days of a former Buddha, obliterated from the minds of men,
    until a new one, by his omniscience, is enabled to win it back
    and preach it to all beings.

    The third object of veneration is the Thanga, or Assembly. The
    meaning of the Pali word Thanga is nearly equivalent to that of
    church or congregation. In the time Gaudama lived the Assembly
    was composed of all individuals who, becoming converts, embraced
    the mode of living of their preacher, and remained with him, or
    if they occasionally parted from him for a while, always kept a
    close intercourse with him, and spent a portion of their time in
    his company. Having left the world, they subjected themselves to
    certain disciplinary regulations, afterwards embodied in the
    great compilation called Wini. The members of the Assembly were
    divided into two classes; the Ariahs or venerables, who by their
    age, great proficiency in the knowledge of the law, and
    remarkable fervour in the assiduous practice of all its
    ordinances, occupied deservedly the first rank amongst the
    disciples of Buddha, and ranked foremost in the Assembly. The
    second class was composed of the Bickus, or simple mendicant
    Religious. It is difficult to assert with any degree of
    probability whether the Upasakas, or ordinary hearers, have ever
    been regarded as members of the Thanga, and forming a portion
    thereof. The Upasakas were believers, but continued to live in
    the world, and formed, as it were, the laity of the Buddhistic
    church. According to the opinion of Buddhists in these parts,
    the laity is not considered as forming or constituting a part of
    the Thanga; those only who abandon a secular life, put on the
    yellow canonical dress, and endeavour to tread in the footsteps
    of their great teacher, are entitled to the dignity of members
    of the Assembly, to which a veneration is paid similar to that
    offered to Buddha and the law. The Ariahs, or venerables, are
    divided into four classes, according to their greater or less
    proficiency in knowledge and moral worth. They are called
    Thotapan, Thakadagan, Anagam, and Arahat. In the class of
    Thotapan are included the individuals who have entered into the
    current, or stream, leading to deliverance, or, in other terms,
    who have stepped into the way of perfection. The Thotapan is as
    yet to be born four times ere he can obtain the deliverance.
    Those who belong to the second class glide rapidly down the
    stream, following steadily the way leading to perfection, and
    are to be born once more in the condition of Nat, and once in
    that of man. Those of the third class are to be born once in the
    condition of Nats. Finally, those of the fourth class have gone
    over the fourth and last way to perfection, reached the summit
    of science and spiritual attainments, and are ripe for the state
    of Neibban, which they infallibly obtain after their death. The
    Ariahs are again subdivided into eight classes, four of which
    include those who are following the four ways of perfection; the
    four others comprehend those who enjoy the reward of the duties
    practised in following the ways of perfection.

    [2] The Burmese translator of the Pali text gives us to
    understand that his intention is not to give the history of our
    Buddha during the countless existences that have preceded the
    last one, when he obtained the supreme intelligence. Buddhists
    keep five hundred and ten histories or legends of Buddha
    purporting to give an account of as many of his former
    existences; and to enhance the value of such records, the
    contents are supposed to have been narrated by Buddha himself to
    his disciples and hearers. I have read most of them. Two hundred
    of these fabulous narrations are very short, and give few
    particulars regarding our Phra when he was as yet in the state
    of animal, man, and Nat. They are, except the heading and the
    conclusion, the very same fables and _contes_ to be met with
    amongst all Asiatic nations, which have supplied with
    inexhaustible stores all ancient and modern fabulists. The last
    ten narratives are really very complete and interesting stories
    of ten existences of Buddha preceding the one we are about to
    describe, during which he is supposed to have practised the ten
    great virtues, the acquisition of which is an indispensable
    qualification for obtaining the exalted dignity of Phra. Some of
    these legends are really beautiful, interesting, and
    well-composed pieces of literature.

    [3] Toocita, or the joyful abode, is one of the seats of the
    Nats. But in order to render more intelligible several passages
    of this work, it is almost indispensable to have an idea of the
    system adopted by Buddhists in assigning to rational beings
    their respective seats or abodes. There are thirty-one seats
    assigned to all beings, which we may suppose to be disposed on
    an immense scale, extending from the bottom of the earth to an
    incommensurable height above it. At the foot we find the four
    states of punishment, viz., hell, the states of Athourikes,
    Preithas, and animals. Next comes the abode of man. Above it are
    the six seats of Nats. These eleven seats are called the seats
    of passion, or concupiscence, because the beings residing
    therein are still subject to the influence of that passion,
    though not to an equal degree. Above the abodes of Nats we meet
    with the sixteen seats, called Rupa, disposed perpendicularly
    one above the other to an incalculable height. The inhabitants
    of those fanciful regions are called Brahmas, or perfect. They
    have freed themselves from concupiscence and almost all other
    passions, but still retain some affection for matter and
    material things. Hence the denomination of Rupa, or matter,
    given to the seats. The remaining portion of the scale is
    occupied by the four seats called Arupa or immaterials, for the
    beings inhabiting them are entirely delivered from all passions.
    They have, as it were, broken asunder even the smallest ties
    that would attach them to this material world. They have reached
    the summit of perfection; one step farther, and they enter into
    the state Neibban, the consummation, according to Buddhists, of
    all perfection. To sum up all the above in a few words: there
    are four states of punishment. The seat of man is a place of
    probation and trial. The six abodes of Nats are places of
    sensual pleasure and enjoyments. In the sixteen seats of Rupa
    are to be met those beings whose delights are of a more refined
    and almost purely spiritual nature, though retaining as yet some
    slight affections for matter. In the four seats of Arupa are
    located those beings who are wholly disentangled from material
    affections, who delight only in the sublimest contemplation,
    soaring, as it were, in the boundless regions of pure
    spiritualism.

    [4] Thingie is a number represented by a unit, followed by
    sixty-four ciphers; others say, one hundred and forty.

    [5] Buddhists have different ways of classifying the series of
    worlds, which they suppose to succeed to each other, after the
    completion of a revolution of nature. As regards Buddhas, who
    appear at unequal intervals for illuminating and opening the way
    to deliverance to the then existing beings, worlds are divided
    into those which are favoured with the presence of one or
    several Buddhas, and those to which so eminent a benefit is
    denied. The present revolution of nature, which includes the
    period in which we live, has been privileged above all others.
    No less than five Buddhas, like five shining suns, are to shoot
    forth rays of incomparable brilliancy, and dispel the mist of
    thick darkness that encompasses all beings, according to their
    respective laws of demerits. Of these five, four, namely,
    Kaukassan, Gaunagong, Kathaba, Gaudama, have already performed
    their great task. The fifth, named Aremideia, is as yet to come.
    The religion of Gaudama is to last five thousand years, of which
    two thousand four hundred and eight are elapsed. The names of
    the twenty-eight last Buddhas are religiously preserved by
    Buddhists, together with their age, their stature, the names
    of the trees under which they have obtained the universal
    intelligence, their country, the names of their father and
    mother, and those of their two chief disciples. Deinpakara
    occupies the fourth place in the series. He is supposed to have
    been eighty cubits high, and to have lived one hundred thousand
    years.

    It is not without interest to examine whether there have existed
    Buddhas previous to the time of Gaudama, and whether the
    twenty-eight Buddhas above alluded to are to be considered as
    mythological beings who have never existed. It cannot be denied
    that mention of former Buddhas is made in the earliest sacred
    records, but it seems difficult to infer therefrom that they
    are real beings. 1st. The circumstances respecting their
    extraordinary longevity, their immense stature, and the myriads
    of centuries that are supposed to have elapsed from the times of
    the first to those of Gaudama, are apparently conclusive proofs
    against the reality of their existence. 2d. The names of those
    personages are found mentioned in the preachings of Gaudama,
    together with those individuals with whom he is supposed to have
    lived and conversed during former existences. Who has ever
    thought of giving any credence to those fables? They were used
    by Gaudama as so many means to give extension and solidity to
    the basis whereupon he intended to found his system. 3d. There
    are no historical records or monuments that can give countenance
    to the opposite opinion. The historical times begin with
    Gaudama, whilst there exist historical proofs of the existence
    of the rival creed of Brahminism anterior to the days of the
    acknowledged author of Buddhism.

    It cannot be doubted that there existed in the days of Buddha,
    in the valley of the Ganges and in the Punjaub, a great number
    of philosophers, who led a retired life, devoting their time to
    study and the practice of virtue. Some of them occasionally
    sallied out of their retreats to go and deliver moral
    instructions to the people. The fame that attended those
    philosophers attracted round their lonely abodes crowds of
    hearers, eager to listen to their lectures and anxious to place
    themselves under their direction for learning the practice of
    virtue. In the pages of this legend will be found passages
    corroborating this assertion. Thence arose those multifarious
    schools, where were elaborated the many systems, opinions, &c.,
    for which India has been celebrated from the remotest antiquity.
    The writer has had the patience to read two works full of
    disputations between Brahmins and Buddhists, as well as some
    books of the ethics of the latter. He has been astonished to
    find that in those days the art of arguing, disputing, defining,
    &c., had been carried to such a point of nicety as almost to
    leave the disciples of Aristotle far behind. It has been said
    that the gymnosophists whom Alexander the Great met in India
    were Buddhist philosophers. But the particulars mentioned by
    Greek writers respecting their manners and doctrines contradict
    such a supposition. They are described as living in a state of
    complete nakedness, and as refusing to deliver instructions to
    the messenger of Alexander, unless he consented to strip himself
    of his clothes. On the other hand, we know that Buddha enjoined
    a strict modesty on his religious, and in the book of
    ordinations the candidate is first asked whether he comes
    provided with his canonical dress. The gymnosophists are
    represented as practising extraordinary austerities, and holding
    self-destruction in great esteem. These and other practices are
    quite at variance with all the prescriptions of the Wini, or
    book of discipline. It is further mentioned that the Macedonian
    hero met with other philosophers living in community; but
    whether these were Buddhists or not, it is impossible to decide.
    It can scarcely be believed that Buddhism in the days of
    Alexander could have already invaded the countries which the
    Grecian army conquered.

    [6] Nat in Pali means Lord. Its signification is exactly
    equivalent to that of Dewa, Dewata. The Nats are an order of
    beings in the Buddhistic system, occupying six seats or abodes
    of happiness, placed in rising succession above the abode of
    man. They are spirits endowed with a body of so subtle and
    ethereal nature as to be able to move with the utmost rapidity
    from their seat to that of man, and _vice versa_. They play a
    conspicuous part in the affairs of this world, and are supposed
    to exercise a considerable degree of influence over man and
    other creatures. Fear, superstition, and ignorance have peopled
    all places with Nats. Every tree, forest, fountain, village, and
    town has its protecting Nat. Some among the Nats having lost
    their high station through misconduct, have been banished from
    their seats and doomed to drag a wretched existence in some
    gloomy recess. Their power for doing evil is supposed to be very
    great. Hence the excessive dread of those evil genii entertained
    by all Buddhists. A good deal of their commonest superstitious
    rites have been devised for propitiating those enemies to all
    happiness, and averting the calamitous disasters which they seem
    to keep hanging over our heads.

    Though the Nats' worship is universal among the Buddhists of all
    nations, it is but fair to state that it is contrary to the
    principles of genuine Buddhism and repugnant to its tenets. It
    is probable that it already existed among all the nations of
    Eastern Asia at the time they were converted to Buddhism.

    The tribes that have not as yet been converted to Buddhism have
    no other worship but that of the Nats. To mention only the
    principal ones, such as the Karens, the Khyins, and the
    Singphos, they may differ in the mode of performing their
    religious rites and superstitious ceremonies, but the object is
    the same, honouring and propitiating the Nats. This worship is
    so deeply rooted in the minds of the wild and half-civilised
    tribes of Eastern Asia, that it has been, to a great extent,
    retained by the nations that have adopted Buddhism as their
    religious creed. The Burmans, for instance, from the king down
    to the lowest subject, privately and publicly indulge in the
    Nats' worship. As to the tribes that have remained outside the
    pale of Buddhism, they may be styled Nats' worshippers. Hence it
    may be inferred that previous to the introduction or the
    preaching of the tenets of the comparatively new religion in
    these parts, the worship of Nats was universal and
    predominating.

    [7] Raci or Rathee means an hermit, a personage living by
    himself in some lonely and solitary recess, far from the
    contagious atmosphere of impure society, devoting his time to
    meditation and contemplation. His diet is of the coarsest kind,
    supplied to him by the forests he lives in; the skins of some
    wild animals afford him a sufficient dress. Most of those
    Rathees having reached an uncommon degree of extraordinary
    attainment, their bodies become spiritualised to a degree which
    enables them to travel from place to place by following an
    aërial course. In all Buddhistic legends, comedies, &c., they
    are often found interfering in the narrated stories and
    episodes.

    There is no doubt but those devotees who, in the days of Buddha,
    spent their time in retreat, devoted to study and meditation,
    were Brahmins. In support of this assertion we have the highest
    possible native authority, the Institutes of Menoo, compiled
    probably during the eighth or ninth century before Christ. We
    find in that work, minutely described, the mode of life becoming
    a true Brahmin. During the third part of his life, a Brahmin
    must live as an anchorite in the woods. Clad in the bark of
    trees or the skins of animals, with his hair and nails uncut,
    having no shelter whatever but that which is afforded him by the
    trees of the forest, keeping sometimes a strict silence, living
    on herbs and roots, he must train himself up to bearing with
    entire unconcern the cold of winter and the heat of summer. Such
    is the course of life, according to the Vedas, which the true
    Brahmin is bound to follow during the third portion of his
    existence. Some Buddhistic zealots have sometimes endeavoured to
    emulate the ancient Rathees in their singular mode of life. It
    is not quite unfrequent in our days to hear of some fervent
    Phongies who, during the three months of Lent, withdraw into
    solitude, to be more at liberty to devote their time to study
    and meditation. This observance, however, is practised by but
    very few individuals, and that, too, with a degree of laxity
    that indicates a marked decline of the pristine fervour that
    glowed in the soul of primitive Buddhists.

    [8] The three great works are; the assistance afforded to his
    parents and relatives, the great offerings he had made, coupled
    with a strict observance of the most difficult points of the
    law, and benevolent dispositions towards all beings
    indiscriminately.

    [9] This extraordinary monarch, called Tsekiawade, never makes
    his appearance during the period of time allotted to the
    publication and duration of the religious institutions of a
    Buddha.

    [10] Here I make use of the expression Phralaong, or more
    correctly Phraalaong, to designate Buddha before he obtained the
    supreme knowledge, when he was, as it were, slowly and gradually
    gravitating towards the centre of matchless perfection. In that
    state it is said of him that he is not yet ripe.

    This word involves a meaning which ought to be well understood.
    No single expression in our language can convey a correct idea
    of its import, and for this reason it has been retained through
    these pages. _Alaong_ is a derivative from the verb _laong_,
    which means to be in an incipient way, in a way of progression
    towards something more perfect. A Buddha is at first a being in
    a very imperfect state; but passing through countless
    existences, he frees himself, by a slow process, from some of
    his imperfections; he acquires merits which enable him to rise
    in the scale of progress, science, and perfection. In perusing
    the narrative of the five hundred and ten former existences of
    Gaudama which have come down to us, we find that, when he was
    yet in the state of animal, he styled himself Phralaong. The
    Burmese have another expression of similar import to express the
    same meaning. They say of a being as yet in an imperfect
    condition that he is soft, tender as an unripe thing; and when
    he passes to the state of perfection, they say that he is ripe,
    that he has blossomed and expanded. They give to understand that
    he who is progressing towards the Buddhaship has in himself all
    the elements constitutive of a Buddha lying as yet concealed in
    himself; but when he reaches that state, then all that had
    hitherto remained in a state of unripeness bursts suddenly out
    of the bud and comes to full maturity. Similar expressions are
    often better calculated to give a clear insight into the true
    and real opinions of Buddhists than a lengthened and elaborate
    dissertation could do.

    [11] The ten great virtues or duties are, liberality, observance
    of the precepts of the law, retreat into lonely places, wisdom,
    diligence, benevolence, patience, veracity, fortitude, and
    indifference. The five renouncements are, renouncing children,
    wife, goods, life, and one's self.

    [12] Metempsychosis is one of the fundamental dogmas of
    Buddhism. That continual transition from one existence to
    another, from a state of happiness to one of unhappiness, and
    _vice versa_, forms a circle encompassing the Buddhist in every
    direction. He is doomed to fluctuate incessantly on the
    never-settled waters of existence. Hence his ardent wishes to be
    delivered from that most pitiable position, and his earnest
    longings for the ever-tranquil state of Neibban, the way to
    which Buddha alone can teach him by his precepts and his
    examples.

    This dogma is common both to Brahmins and Buddhists. The
    originator and propagator of the creed of the latter found it
    already established; he had but to embody it among his own
    conceptions, and make it agree with his new ideas. His first
    teachers were Brahmins, and under their tuition he learned that
    dogma which may be considered as the basis on which hinge both
    systems. In fact, the two rival creeds have a common object in
    view, the elevating of the soul from those imperfections forced
    upon her by her connection with matter, and the setting of her
    free from the sway of passions, which keep her always linked to
    this world. According to the votaries of both creeds,
    transmigration has for its object the effecting of those several
    purposes. There is a curious opinion among Buddhists respecting
    the mode of transmigrations, and there is no doubt it is a very
    ancient one, belonging to the genuine productions of the
    earliest Buddhism. Transmigration, they say, is caused and
    entirely controlled by the influence of merits and demerits, but
    in such a way that a being who has come to his end transmits
    nothing of his entity to the being to be immediately reproduced.
    The latter is a being apart, independent of the former, created,
    it is true, by the influence of the late being's good or bad
    deeds, but having nothing in common with him. They explain this
    startling doctrine by the comparison of a tree successively
    producing and bearing fruits, of which some are good and some
    bad. The fruits, though coming from the same tree, have nothing
    in common, either with each other or with those that were
    previously grown, or may afterwards grow out of the same plant;
    they are distinct and separate. So they say, _kan_, or the
    influence of merits and demerits, produces successively beings
    totally distinct one from the other. This atheistic or
    materialistic doctrine is not generally known by the common
    people, who practically hold that transmigration is effected in
    the manner professed and taught by Pythagoras and his school.

    If between the adherents of the two creeds there is a perfect
    agreement respecting the means to be resorted to for reaching
    the point when man becomes free from miseries, ignorance, and
    imperfections, they are at variance as to the end to be arrived
    to. The Brahmin leads the perfected being to the supreme
    essence, in which he is merged as a drop of water in the ocean,
    losing his personality, to form a whole with the Divine
    substance. This is Pantheism. The Buddhist, ignoring a supreme
    being, conducts the individual that has become emancipated from
    the thraldom of passions to a state of complete isolation,
    called Neibban. This is, strictly speaking, Annihilation.

    [13] The duration of a revolution of nature, or the time
    required for the formation of a world, its existence and
    destruction, is divided into four periods. The fourth period, or
    that which begins with the apparition of man on the earth until
    its destruction, is divided into sixty-four parts, called
    andrakaps. During one andrakap, the life of man increases
    gradually from ten years to an almost innumerable number of
    years; and having reached its maximum of duration, it decreases
    slowly to its former short duration of ten years. We live at
    present in that second part of an andrakap when the life of man
    is on the decline and decrease. If my memory serve me right, we
    have reached at present the ninth or tenth andrakap of the
    fourth period. Should the calculations of Buddhists ever prove
    correct, the deluded visionaries who look forward to an
    approaching Millennium, have still to wait long ere their
    darling wishes be realised.

    Though it be somewhat tiresome and unpleasant to have to write
    down the absurd and ridiculous notions Burmans entertain
    respecting the organisation of matter, the origin, production,
    existence, duration, and end of the world, it appears quite
    necessary to give a brief account, and sketch an outline of
    their ideas on these subjects. The reader will then have the
    means of tracing up to their Hindu origin several of the many
    threads that link Buddhism to Brahminism, and better understand
    the various details hereafter to be given, and intended for
    establishing a great fact, viz., the Brahminical origin of the
    greater part of the Buddhistic institutions. He will, moreover,
    have the satisfaction of clearly discovering, buried in the
    rubbish of fabulous recitals, several important facts recorded
    in the Holy Scriptures.

    Matter is eternal, but its organisation and all the changes
    attending it are caused and regulated by certain laws co-eternal
    with it. Both matter and the laws that act upon it are
    self-existing, independent of the action and control of any
    being, &c. As soon as a system of worlds is constituted,
    Buddhists boldly assert and perseveringly maintain that the law
    of merit and demerit is the sole principle that regulates and
    controls both the physical and moral world.

    But how is a world brought into existence? Water, or rather
    rain, is the chief agent, operating in the reproduction of a
    system of nature. During an immense period of time rain pours
    down with an unabating violence in the space left by the last
    world that has been destroyed. Meanwhile strong winds, blowing
    from opposite directions, accumulate the water within definite
    and certain limits until it has filled the whole space. At last
    appears on the surface of water, floating like a greasy
    substance, the sediment deposited by water. In proportion as the
    water dries up under the unremitting action of the wind, that
    crust increases in size, until, by a slow, gradual, but sure
    process, it invariably assumes the shape and proportion of our
    planet, in the manner we are to describe. The centre of the
    earth, indeed of a world or system of nature, is occupied by a
    mountain of enormous size and elevation, called Mienmo. This is
    surrounded by seven ranges of mountains, separated from each
    other by streams, equalling, in breadth and depth, the height of
    the mountain forming its boundaries in the direction of the
    central elevation. The range nearest to the Mienmo rises to half
    its height. Each successive range is half the height of the
    range preceding it. Beyond the last stream are disposed four
    great islands, in the direction of the four points of the
    compass. Each of those four islands is surrounded by five
    hundred smaller ones. Beyond those there is water, reaching to
    the farthest limits of the world. The great island we inhabit is
    the southern one, called Dzampoudipa, from the Jambu, or Eugenia
    tree, growing upon it.

    Our planet rests on a basis of water double the thickness of the
    earth; the water itself is lying on a mass of air that has a
    thickness double that of water. Below this aërial stratum is
    _laha_, or vacuum.

    Let us see now in what manner our planet is peopled, and whence
    came its first inhabitants. From the seats of Brahmas which were
    beyond the range of destruction when the former world perished,
    three celestial beings, or, according to another version, six,
    came on the earth, remaining on it in a state of perfect
    happiness, occasionally revisiting, when it pleased them, their
    former seats of glory. This state of things lasts during a long
    period. At that time the two great luminaries of the day and the
    stars of night have not as yet made their appearance, but rays
    of incomparable brightness, emanating from the pure bodies of
    those new inhabitants, illuminate the globe. They feed at long
    intervals upon a certain gelatinous substance, of such a
    nutritious power that the smallest quantity is sufficient to
    support them for a long period. This delicious food is of the
    most perfect flavour. But it happens that at last it disappears,
    and is successively replaced by two other substances, one of
    which resembles the tender sprout of a tree. They are so
    nutritious and purified that in our present condition we can
    have no adequate idea of their properties. They too disappear,
    and are succeeded by a sort of rice called _Tha-le_. The
    inhabitants of the earth eat also of that rice. But alas! the
    consequences prove as fatal to them as the eating of the
    forbidden fruit proved to the happy denizens of Eden. The
    brightness that had hitherto encircled their bodies and
    illuminated the world vanishes away, and, to their utmost
    dismay, they find themselves, for the first time, sunk into an
    abyss of unknown darkness. The eating of that coarse food
    creates fæces and evacuations which, forcing their way out of
    the body, cause the appearance of what marks the distinction of
    the sexes. Passions, for the first time, burn and rage in the
    bosom of those hitherto passionless beings. They are deprived of
    the power to return to their celestial seats. Very soon
    jealousy, contentions, &c., follow in the train of the
    egotistical distinction of _mine_ and _thine_. Finding
    themselves in the gloom of darkness, the unhappy beings sigh for
    and long after light, when, on a sudden, the sun, breaking down
    the barrier of darkness, bursts out, rolling, as it were, in a
    flood of light, which illuminates the whole world; but soon
    disappearing in the west below the horizon, darkness seems to
    resume its hold. New lamentations and bewailings arise on the
    part of men, when in a short time appears majestically the moon,
    spreading its silvery and trembling rays of light. At the same
    time the planets and stars take their respective stations in the
    sky, and begin their regular revolutions. The need of settling
    disputes that arise is soon felt by the new inhabitants; they
    agree to elect a chief, whom they invest with a sufficient
    authority for framing regulations which are to be obligatory on
    every member of society, and power for enforcing obedience to
    those regulations. Hence the origin of society.

    Men, at first practising virtue, enjoyed a long life, the
    duration of which reached to the almost incredible length of a
    thingie. But they having much relaxed in the practice of virtue,
    it lessened proportionably to their want of fervour in the
    observance of the law, until, by their extreme wickedness, it
    dwindled to the short period of ten years. The same ascending
    and descending scale of human life, successively brought in by
    the law of merit and demerit, takes place sixty-four times, and
    constitutes an andrakap, or the duration of a world.

    It remains only to mention rapidly some particulars regarding
    the end of a revolution of nature. The cause of such an event is
    the influence of the demerits, prevailing to such an extent as
    to be all-powerful in working out destruction. Two solemn
    warnings of the approaching dissolution of our planet are given
    by Nats, one nearly 100,000 and the other 100 years before that
    event. The bearers of such sad news make their appearance on
    earth with marks of deep mourning, as best suited to afford
    additional weight to their exhortations. They earnestly call on
    men to repent of their sins and amend their lives. These last
    summonses are generally heeded by all mankind, so that men, when
    the world is destroyed, generally migrate, together with the
    victims of hell who have atoned for their past iniquities, to
    those seats of Brahmas that escape destruction. There are three
    great principles of demerit, concupiscence, anger, and
    ignorance. The world also is destroyed by the action of three
    different agents, fire, water, and wind. Concupiscence is the
    most common, though the less heinous of the three. Next comes
    anger, less prevailing, though it is more heinous; but ignorance
    is by far the most fatal of all moral distempers. The moral
    disorder then prevailing causes destruction by the agency that
    it sets in action. Concupiscence has for its agency fire; anger,
    water; ignorance, wind; but in the following proportion. Of
    sixty-four destructions of this world, fifty-six are caused by
    conflagration, seven by water, and one by wind. Their respective
    limits of duration stand as follows: conflagration reaches to
    the five lowest seats of Brahmas; water extends to the eighth
    seat, and the destructive violence of the wind is felt as far as
    the ninth seat.

    [14] Our planet or globe is composed, according to Buddhists,
    of the mountain Mienmo, being in height 82,000 youdzanas (1
    youdzana is, according to some authorities, equal to little less
    than 12 English miles) above the surface of the earth, and in
    depth equal to its height. Around this huge and tall elevation
    are disposed the four great islands, according to the four
    points of the compass; and each of these again is surrounded by
    500 small islands. The countries south of the great chain of the
    Himalaya are supposed to form the great island lying at the
    south.

    It would be easy to give, at full length, the ridiculous notions
    entertained by Buddhists of these parts on geography and
    cosmography, &c., &c.; but the knowledge of such puerilities is
    scarcely worth the attention of a serious reader, who is anxious
    to acquire accurate information respecting a religious system,
    which was designed by its inventor to be the vehicle of moral
    doctrines, with but very few dogmas. Those speculations upon
    this material world have gradually found their place in the
    collection of sacred writings, but they are no part of the
    religious creed. They are of a Hindu origin, and convey Indian
    notions upon those various topics. These notions even do not
    belong to the system as expounded in the Vedas, but have been
    set forth at a comparatively modern epoch.

    [15] A Rahanda is a being very far advanced in perfection, and
    gifted with high spiritual attainments, which impart to his
    mortal frame certain distinguished prerogatives, becoming almost
    spirits. Concupiscence is totally extinguished in a Rahanda; he
    may be said to be fit for the state Neibban. Several classes are
    assigned to Rahandas alone, according to their various degrees
    of advancement in the way of perfection.

    [16] It is an immutable decree that she on whom has been
    conferred the singular honour of giving birth to a mortal who,
    during the course of his existence, is to become a Buddha, dies
    invariably seven days after her delivery, migrating to one of
    the delightful seats of Nats. The Burmese translator observes
    that a womb that has been, as it were, consecrated and
    sanctified by the presence of a child of so exalted a dignity,
    can never become afterwards the hidden abode of less dignified
    beings. It must be confessed that the conception of Phralaong in
    his mother's womb is wrapped up in a mysterious obscurity,
    appearing as it does to exclude the idea of conjugal
    intercourse. The Cochin-Chinese in their religious legends
    pretend that Buddha was conceived and born from Maia in a
    wonderful manner, not resembling at all what takes place
    according to the order of nature.

    [17] The Mount Himawonta is famous in all Buddhistic
    compositions, as the scene where great and important events have
    happened. It is in all probability the Himalaya, as being the
    highest range of mountains ever known to Indian Buddhists.

    [18] Pounhas are the Brahmins who, even in those days of remote
    antiquity, were considered as the wisest in their generation.
    They had already monopolised the lucrative trade of
    fortune-tellers, astrologers, &c., and it appears that they have
    contrived to retain it up to our own days. During my first stay
    in Burmah I became acquainted with a young Pounha, wearing the
    white dress, and getting his livelihood by telling the
    horoscopes of newly-born infants, and even grown-up people. I
    learned from him the mode of finding out by calculation the
    state of the heavens at any given hour whatever. This mode of
    calculation is entirely based on the Hindu system, and has
    evidently been borrowed from that people.

    Though Brahmins in those days, as in our own, worked on popular
    ignorance and credulity in the manner abovementioned, we ought
    not to lose sight of the great fact, borne out by this legend in
    a most distinct and explicit way, that many among them devoted
    all their time, energies, and abilities to the acquirement of
    wisdom, and the observance of the most arduous practices. Their
    austere mode of life was to a great extent copied and imitated
    by the first religious of the Buddhist persuasion. Many
    ordinances and prescriptions of the Wini agree, in a remarkable
    degree, with those enforced by the Vedas. In the beginning, the
    resemblance must have been so great as to render the
    discrepancies scarcely perceptible, since we read in this very
    work of an injunction made to the early converts, to bestow alms
    on the Pounhas as well as on the Bickus or mendicant religious,
    placing them both on a footing of perfect equality.

    [19] Preitha is a being in a state of punishment and sufferings
    on account of sins committed in a former existence. He is doomed
    to live in the solitary recesses of uninhabited mountains,
    smarting under the pangs of never-satiated hunger. His body, and
    particularly his stomach, are of gigantic dimensions, whilst his
    mouth is so small that a needle could scarcely be shoved into
    it.

    [20] In the Buddhistic system of cosmogony, 100,000 worlds
    form one system, subject to the same immutable changes and
    revolutions as affect this one which we inhabit. They admit,
    indeed, that the number of worlds is unlimited, but they assert
    that those forming one system are simultaneously destroyed,
    reproduced and perfected, by virtue of certain eternal laws
    inherent in matter itself.

    [21] Tsadoomarit is the first of the six abodes of Nats. The
    description of the pleasures enjoyed by the inhabitants of that
    seat is replete with accounts of the grossest licentiousness.

    [22] A Palou, or rather Bilou, is a monster with a human face,
    supposed to feed on human flesh. His eyes are of a deep red hue,
    and his body of so subtle a nature as never to project any
    shadow. Wonderful tales are told of this monster, which plays
    a considerable part in most of the Buddhistic writings.

    [23] A Dzedi is a religious edifice of a conical form, supported
    on a square basis, and having its top covered with what the
    Burmese call an umbrella, resembling in its shape the musical
    instrument vulgarly called _chapeau chinois_ by the French. On
    each side of the quadrangular basis are opened four niches, in
    the direction of the four cardinal points, destined to receive
    statues of Buddha. This monument is of every dimension in size,
    from the smallest, a few feet high, to the tallest, of one or
    two hundred feet high. It is to be seen in every direction, and
    in the neighbourhood of towns every elevation is crowned with
    one or several Dzedis.

    The word Dzedi means a sacred depository, that is to say, a
    place where relics of Buddha were enshrined. The word has been
    extended since to places which have become receptacles of the
    scriptures, or of the relics of distinguished religious, who had
    acquired eminence by their scientific and moral attainments. In
    the beginning, those Dzedis were a kind of _tumuli_, or mounds
    of earth or bricks, erected upon the shrine wherein relics were
    enclosed. In proportion as the followers of the Buddhistic faith
    increased in number, wealth, and influence, they erected Dzedis
    on a grander scale, bearing always a great resemblance in shape
    and form to the primitive ones. The stupas or topes discovered
    in the Punjaub, and in other parts of the Indian Peninsula, were
    real Buddhistic tumuli or Dzedis.

    During succeeding ages, when relics could not be procured, the
    faithful continued to erect Dzedis, the sight of which was
    intended to remind them of the sacred relics, and they paid to
    those relics and monuments the same veneration as they would
    have offered to those enriched with those priceless objects.
    In Burmah, in particular, the zeal, or rather the rage, for
    building Dzedis has been carried to a degree scarcely to be
    credited by those who have not visited that country. In the
    following pages there will be found an attempt to describe the
    various forms given to those monuments.

    [24] The thabeit is an open-mouthed pot, of a truncated
    spheroidical form, made of earth, iron, or brass, without
    ornaments, used by the Buddhist monks when going abroad, in
    their morning excursions, to receive the alms bestowed on them
    by the admirers of their holy mode of life.




CHAPTER II.

    _Birth of Buddha in a forest -- Rejoicings on that occasion --
    Kaladewila -- Prediction of the Pounhas -- Vain efforts of
    Thoodaudana to thwart the effect of the Prediction._


The time of her approaching confinement being close at hand, the
princess solicited from her husband, King Thoodaudana, leave to go to
the country of Dewah,[1] amongst her friends and relatives. As soon as
her request was made known, the king ordered that the whole extent of
the road between Kapilawot and Dewah should be perfectly levelled, and
lined on both sides with plantain trees, and adorned with the finest
ornaments. Jars, full of the purest water, were to be deposited all
along the road at short intervals. A chair of gold was made ready for
conveying the queen; and a thousand noblemen, attended by an innumerable
retinue, were directed to accompany her during the journey. Between the
two countries an immense forest of lofty Engyin trees extends to a great
distance. As soon as the _cortège_ reached it, five water-lilies shot
forth spontaneously from the stem and the main branches of each tree,
and innumerable birds of all kinds, by their melodious tunes, filled the
air with the most ravishing music. Trees, similar in beauty to those
growing in the seats of Nats, apparently sensible of the presence of the
incarnated Buddha, seemed to share in the universal joy.

On beholding this wonderful appearance of all the lofty trees of the
forest, the queen felt a desire to approach nearer and enjoy the
marvellous sight offered to her astonished regards. Her noble attendants
led her forthwith a short distance into the forest. Maia, seated on her
couch, along with her sister Patzapati, desired her attendants to have
it moved closer to an Engyin tree (_shorea robusta_), which she pointed
out. Her wishes were immediately complied with. She then rose gently on
her couch; her left hand, clasped round the neck of her sister,
supported her in a standing position. With the right hand she tried to
reach and break a small branch, which she wanted to carry away. On that
very instant, as the slender rattan, heated by fire, bends down its
tender head, all the branches lowered their extremities, offering
themselves, as it were, to the hand of the queen, who unhesitatingly
seized and broke the extremity of one of the young boughs. By virtue of
a certain power inherent in her dignity, on a sudden all the winds blew
gently throughout the forest. The attendants, having desired all the
people to withdraw to a distance, disposed curtains all round the place
the queen was standing on. Whilst she was in that position, admiring
the slender bough she held in her hands, the moment of her confinement
happened, and she was delivered of a son.[D]

    [D] On the same day a son was born to Amitaudana, called Ananda.
    The wife of Thouppaboudha of Dewah was delivered of a daughter,
    called Yathaudara, who became afterwards the wife of Phralaong.
    Anouroudha, the son of Thookaudana, was ushered into existence
    on the same solemn occasion. The above-named Ananda was first
    cousin to the Buddha, and subsequently became the amiable,
    faithful, and devoted disciple who, during twenty-five years,
    attended on the person of Buddha, and affectionately ministered
    to all his wants. After the death of his mother Maia, Phralaong
    was nursed and brought up with the greatest care by his aunt
    Patzapati, sometimes called Gautamee.

Four chief Brahmas[2] received the new-born infant on a golden net-work,
and placed him in the presence of the happy mother, saying, "Give
yourself up, O Queen, to joy and rejoicing; here is the precious and
wonderful fruit of your womb."[E]

    [E] _Remarks of the Burmese Translator._--When children are born
    they appear in this world covered all over their bodies with
    impure and disgusting substances. But an exception was made in
    favour of our infant Phralaong. He was born without the least
    stain of offending impurity; he was ushered into this world,
    pure and resplendent, like a fine ruby placed on a piece of the
    richest cloth of Kathika. He left his mother's womb with his
    feet and hands stretched out, exhibiting the dignified
    countenance of a Pundit descending from the place where he has
    expounded the law. Though both mother and child were exempt from
    the humiliating miseries common to all other human beings, there
    came down from the skies upon both, by way of a respectful
    offering, gentle showers of cold and warm water, succeeding each
    other alternately in a regular order.

From the hands of the four chiefs of Brahmas, four chiefs of Nats
received the blessed child, whom they handed over to men, who placed him
on a beautiful white cloth. But to the astonishment of all, he freed
himself from the hands of those attending upon him, and stood in a firm
and erect position on the ground, when casting a glance towards the
east, more than one thousand worlds appeared like a perfectly levelled
plain. All the Nats inhabiting those worlds made offerings of flowers
and perfumes, exclaiming with exultation, "An exalted personage has made
his appearance;--who can ever be compared to him? who has ever equalled
him? He is indeed the most excellent of all beings." Phralaong looked
again towards the three other directions. Raising his eyes upwards, and
then lowering them down, he saw that there was no being equal to him.
Conscious of his superiority, he jumped over a distance of seven lengths
of a foot, in a northern direction, exclaiming,--"This is my last birth;
there shall be to me no other state of existence; I am the greatest of
all beings."[3] He then began to walk steadily in the same direction. A
chief of Brahmas held over his head the white umbrella.[4] A Nat carried
the golden fan. Other Nats held in their hands the golden sword, the
golden slippers, the cope set with the rarest precious stones, and other
royal insignia.[F]

    [F] _Remarks of the Burmese Translator._--In former existences,
    our Phralaong is said to have spoken a few words immediately
    after his birth, viz., when he was Mahauthata and Wethandra. In
    the first, he came into this world holding in his hands a small
    plant, which a Nat had brought and placed in his tender hands at
    that very moment. He showed it to his mother, who asked him
    what it was. "This is a medicinal plant," replied he, to his
    astonished mother. The plant was cast into a large jar full of
    water, and the virtualised liquid ever retained the power of
    curing every kind of bodily distemper. When he was born, or
    rather began the existence in which he was called Wethandra, he
    stretched out his hands asking something from his mother which
    he might bestow on the needy. The mother put at his disposal one
    thousand pieces of silver.

Thirty-two mighty wonders had proclaimed the incarnation of Phralaong in
his mother's womb, and the same number of wonders announced his birth to
the earth. Moreover, in that same moment were born the beautiful
Yathaudara, Ananda, the son of Amitaudana, the noblemen Tsanda and
Kaludari, and the horse Kantika. The great tree Bodi also sprung from
the ground, in the forest of Oorouwela, about two youdzanas distant from
the city of Radzagio, and in a north-easterly direction from that place,
and the four golden vases suddenly reappeared.

The inhabitants of Dewah, joining those of Kapilawot, set out for the
latter country with the newly-born infant, to whom they rendered the
greatest honours. The Nats of the seat of Tawadeintha, on hearing that a
son was born to King Thoodaudana, and that under the shade of the tree
Bodi[5] he would become a true Buddha with a perfect knowledge of the
four great truths, gave full vent to their boundless joy, hoisting
unfurled flags and banners in every direction, in token of their
indescribable rejoicings.

There was a celebrated Rathee, named Kaladewila, who had passed through
the eight degrees of contemplation, and who was in the habit of
resorting daily to the prince's palace for his food. On that very day,
having taken his meal as usual, he ascended to the seat of
Tawadeintha,[6] and found the fortunate inhabitants of that seat giving
themselves up to uncommon rejoicings. He asked them the reason of such
an unusual display of enrapturing transports of exultation. "It is,"
replied they to the inquiring Rathee, "because a son is born to King
Thoodaudana, who will soon become a true Buddha. Like all former
Buddhas, he will preach the law and exhibit in his person and throughout
his life the greatest wonders and a most accomplished pattern of the
highest virtues. We will hear the law from his very mouth."

On hearing the answer of the Nats, Kaladewila immediately left the seat
of Tawadeintha, and directed his aërial course towards the palace of
Thoodaudana. Having entered into the palace and occupied the place
prepared for him, he conveyed to the king the good tidings of a son
having been born unto him.

A few days after this message, the royal child was brought into the
presence of his rejoicing father. Kaladewila was present on the
occasion. Thoodaudana ordered that the child should be attired with the
finest dress, and placed in the presence of the Rathee, in order to pay
him his respects. But the child rose up and set his two feet on the
curled hair of the venerable personage. The persons present on the
occasion, not knowing that a Buddha in his last existence never bows
down to any being, thought that the head of the imprudent child would be
split into seven parts as a punishment for his unbecoming behaviour. But
Kaladewila, rising up from his seat, and lifting up his hands to his
forehead, bowed respectfully to the infant Phralaong. The king,
astonished at such an unusual condescension from so eminent a personage,
followed his example, and out of respect prostrated himself before his
son.

By virtue of his great spiritual attainments, Kaladewila could recollect
at once all that had taken place during the forty preceding worlds, and
foresee all that would happen during the same number of future
revolutions of nature. On seeing the high perfections shining forth in
our Phralaong, he considered attentively whether he would become a
Buddha or not. Having ascertained that such a dignity was reserved for
him, he wished to know if the remaining period of his own existence
would permit him to witness the happy moment when he would be a Buddha.
To his deep regret, he foresaw that the end of his life would come
before the occurrence of that great event, and that he would have then
migrated to one of the seats of Arupa, and be, therefore, deprived of
the favour of hearing the law from his mouth. This foresight caused a
profound sadness in his heart, and abundant tears flowed from his eyes.
But when he reflected on the future destiny of the blessed child, he
could not contain within himself the pure joy that overflowed his soul.
The people present on the occasion soon observed the opposite emotions
which alternately affected the soul of Kaladewila. They asked him the
reason of such an unusual occurrence. "I rejoice," said he, "at the
glorious destiny of that child; but I feel sad and disconsolate when I
think that it will not be given to me to see and contemplate him clothed
with the dignity of Buddha. I bewail with tears my great misfortune."

With a view of assuaging his sorrow, Kaladewila, casting another glance
towards future events, eagerly sought to discover if, among his
relatives, there would not be at least one who would be so fortunate as
to see Phralaong in the nature of Buddha. He saw with inexpressible
delight that his nephew Nalaka would enjoy the blessing denied to
himself. Thereupon he went in all haste to his sister's house, inquiring
about her son. At his request the lad was brought into his presence.
"Beloved nephew," said the venerable Rathee, "thirty-five years
hence,[7] the son of King Thoodaudana will become a Buddha; you will
contemplate him in that sublime and exalted nature. From this day,
therefore, you shall embrace the profession of Rahan." The young man,
who descended from a long succession of wealthy noblemen, said within
himself, "My uncle, indeed, never says anything but under the impulse of
irresistible and cogent motives. I will follow his advice and will
become a recluse." He immediately ordered the purchase of the insignia
of his new profession, a patta, a thingan,[8] and other articles. His
head was shaved, and he put on the yellow garb. Attired in his new
dress, he looked all round, and saw that, amongst all beings, the
Rahans are by far the most excellent. Then turning towards the place
which Phralaong occupied, he prostrated himself five successive times in
that direction, rose up, placed the patta in its bag, threw it over his
shoulder, and directed his steps towards the solitude of Himawonta,
where he devoted himself to all the exercises of his profession. At the
time Phralaong became a Buddha, our hermit went to that great master,
learnt from him the works that lead to the state of perfect stability of
mind, returned back to his solitude, and attained to the perfection of
Rahanda by the practice of the eminent works. Seven months after his
return, the end of his existence arrived, when, disentangled from all
the ties that had hitherto kept him in the world of passions, he reached
the happy state of Neibban.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] This country of Dewah is one of the sixteen countries, so
    much celebrated in the Buddhistic annals, where the greatest
    religious events have taken place. They are placed in the
    centre, north, and north-west portions of Hindustan. In this
    place was born the celebrated Dewadat, who became brother-in-law
    to Buddha himself. But notwithstanding the close ties of
    relationship that united him to so saintly a personage, Dewadat
    is represented as the incarnation of evil, ever opposed to
    Buddha in his benevolent designs in favour of human kind. At
    last, in an attempt against his brother-in-law's life, he met
    with a condign punishment. The earth burst open under his feet,
    and, surrounded by devouring flames, he rolled down to the
    bottom of the lowest hell, acknowledging, however, in the
    accents of a true but tardy repentance, his errors and the
    unconquerable power of Buddha. Three red-hot iron bars transfix
    him perpendicularly, hanging him in an erect position, whilst
    three other bars pierce him through the shoulders and the side.
    For his repentance he is to be delivered hereafter from those
    torments, and restored to earth, in order to acquire merits that
    may entitle him to a better place in future existences. Some
    accounts mention that he is to become a Pietzega Buddha. This
    story respecting Dewadat has given rise in Burmah to a very
    strange misconception. The Burmese, with their usual
    thoughtlessness, on hearing of the particulars respecting the
    sufferings and mode of death of our Saviour, concluded that he
    must have been no other but Dewadat himself, and that, for
    holding opinions opposite to those of Buddha, he suffered such a
    punishment. The writer was not a little surprised to find in the
    writings of the old Barnabite missionaries a lengthened
    confutation of this erroneous supposition.

    [2] According to Buddhistic notions, Buddha labours during his
    mortal career for the benefit of all living beings. His
    benevolent and compassionate heart, free from all partiality,
    feels an ardent desire of opening before them the way that leads
    to deliverance from the miseries of every succeeding existence,
    and of bringing them finally to the never troubled state of
    Neibban. Such a generous and benevolent disposition constitutes
    the genuine characteristic of Buddha. The Brahmas, inhabiting
    the sixteen seats of Rupa, are all but ripe for obtaining the
    crowning point of Buddhistic perfection. They only wait for the
    presence of a Buddha to unloose, by his preachings, the slender
    ties that keep them still connected with this material world.
    The Nats, though far less advanced in merits and perfection,
    eagerly look forward for the apparition of that great personage,
    who is to point out to them the means of freeing themselves from
    the influence of passions, and thereby destroying in them the
    principle of demerits. Men, also, in their state of probation
    and trial, want the mighty aid of a Buddha, who will enable them
    by his transcendent doctrine to advance in merits, so as either
    to arrive at once at the ever-quiescent state of Neibban, or
    progress gradually on the way. Hence, on his birth, Buddha is
    ministered to by those three sorts of intelligent beings, who
    are particularly destined to share in the blessings his coming
    is designed to shower on them.

    The mission of a Buddha is that of a saviour. His great object,
    to make use of a Buddhistic expression, is, during his
    existence, to procure the deliverance of all the beings that
    will listen to his instructions and observe the precepts of the
    law. He is distinguished by feelings of compassion and an ardent
    love for all beings, as well as by an earnest desire of
    labouring for their welfare. These are the true characteristics
    of his heart. In this religious system mention is often made of
    Pitzegabuddhas, who have all the science and merits of a Buddha,
    but they are deficient in the above-mentioned qualities, which
    form, as it were, the essence of a true and genuine Buddha. They
    are never therefore honoured with the noble appellation of
    Buddha.

    [3] The Chinese, Cochin-Chinese, Cingalese, and Nepaulese
    Legends all agree in attributing to Phralaong the use of reason
    from the moment he was born, as well as the power of uttering
    with a proud accent the following words: "I am the greatest of
    all beings; this is my last existence." To his own eyes he must
    have appeared in this world without any competitor, since he
    knew already that he was destined to release countless beings
    from the trammels of existence, and lead them to a state of
    perfect rest, screened for ever from the incessant action of
    merits and demerits. He alone whose mind is deeply imbued with
    Buddhistic notions can boast exultingly that he has at length
    arrived at his last existence, and that, within a few years, he
    will escape out of the whirlpool of endless existences, wherein
    he has been turning and fluctuating from a state of happiness to
    one of wretchedness. This perpetual vicissitude is to him the
    greatest evil, the opposite of which is, therefore, the greatest
    good. No wonder, then, to hear our Phralaong, who was better
    acquainted with the miseries attending existence than any one
    else, exclaiming with the accents of a complete joy--"This is my
    last existence."

    The Burmese translator seems delighted to remark that on two
    former occasions Phralaong, then an infant, had spoken distinct
    words, which he addressed to his mother. This happened in the
    beginning of the two existences during which he practised two of
    the ten great virtues. It took place first on the day he was
    born to that existence, when, under the name of Mahauthata, he
    displayed consummate skill and wisdom. The legend of Mahauthata
    is a very amusing performance, written in a very pure language,
    and relating stories about as credible as those we read in the
    Arabian Tales of a Thousand and One Nights. What surprised the
    writer not a little, was to find, in perusing that composition,
    a decision given by our Mahauthata, in a case perfectly similar
    to that which showed forth, in the presence of all Israel, the
    incomparable wisdom of Solomon. When Phralaong practised the
    last and most perfect of virtues, liberality, carried to its
    farthest limits, ending in perfect abnegation of self, and
    renouncing all that he possessed, he entered, too, into this
    world with the faculty of speech, and became a prince under the
    name of Wethandra. The legend of Wethandra is by far the best of
    all. Taking it as a mere romance, it is replete with
    circumstantial details well calculated to excite the finest
    emotions of the heart. The latter part, in particular, can
    scarcely be read without heart-moving feelings of pity and
    commiseration, on beholding our Phralaong parting willingly with
    all his property, with his wife and his lovely children, and
    finally offering his own person, to satisfy the ever-renewed
    calls on his unbounded generosity.

    [4] In Burmah the use of the white umbrella is limited to the
    king and idols. The former can never move without having some
    one to hold over his head this distinguishing mark of royalty.
    Any one who has been introduced into the palace of Amerapoora
    will not have forgotten how great was his satisfaction on
    beholding the white umbrella towering above the sides of
    passages, and moving in the direction he was sitting in. He knew
    that the time of his expectation was at an end, and that in a
    moment he would behold the golden face.

    [5] In glancing over the genealogy of the twenty-eight last
    Buddhas, the writer has observed that every Buddha has always
    obtained the supreme intelligence under the shadow of some
    trees. Our Phralaong, as will be seen hereafter, attained to the
    exalted dignity of Buddha under the tree Baudhi (_ficus
    religiosa_), which grew up spontaneously at the very moment he
    was born. The writer has never been able to discover any
    well-grounded reason to account for this remarkable
    circumstance, so carefully noted down, relating the particulars
    attending the elevation of a being to this high station. For
    want of a better one, he will be permitted to hazard the
    following conjecture. Our Phralaong, previous to his becoming a
    Buddha, withdrew into solitude for the purpose of fitting
    himself for his future calling, in imitation of all his
    predecessors, leading an ascetic life, and devoting all his
    undivided attention and mental energies to meditation and
    contemplation, coupled with works of the most rigorous
    mortification. The senses, he knew well, were to be submitted to
    the uncontrolled sway of reason, by allowing to himself only
    what was barely requisite for supporting nature. Regardless of
    every comfort, his mind was bent upon acquiring the sublime
    knowledge of the principle and origin of all things, on
    fathoming the miseries of all beings, and on endeavouring to
    discover the most efficacious means of affording them a thorough
    relief, by pointing out to them the road they had to follow in
    order to disentangle themselves from the trammels of existence,
    and arrive at a state of perfect rest. In common with all other
    ascetics, our Phralaong had no other shelter against the
    inclemency of the seasons but the protecting shadow of trees. It
    was under the cooling and refreshing foliage of the trees of the
    forests, that he spent his time in the placid and undisturbed
    work of meditation, acquiring gradually that matchless knowledge
    and consummate wisdom which he needed for carrying on to
    perfection the benevolent undertaking he had in contemplation.

    [6] It is a maxim generally received amongst Buddhists, that
    he who has far advanced in the way of perfection acquires
    extraordinary privileges both in his soul and his body. The
    latter obtains a sort of spiritualised nature, or rather matter
    becomes so refined and purified that he is enabled to travel
    over distances with almost the rapidity of the thought of the
    mind. The former, by the help of continual meditation on the
    causes and nature of all things, enlarges incessantly its sphere
    of knowledge. The remembrance of the past revives in the mind.
    From the lofty position such a being is placed in, he calmly
    considers and watches the movement of events that will take
    place in future times. The more his mind expands, and the sphere
    of his knowledge extends, the greater are the perfections and
    refinements attending the coarser part of his being.

    [7] According to the prophecy of Kaladewila, Phralaong is to
    become Buddha when thirty-five years old. The total duration of
    his life being eighty years, it follows that he has lived as
    Buddha forty-five years. The advice of the old Rathee to his
    nephew Nalaka, to become a Rahan in order to better dispose
    himself to welcome the coming of Buddha, and listen with greater
    benefit to his preachings, leads me to make a remark and write
    down an observation that has been already alluded to. From this
    passage and many others which the reader will easily notice
    hereafter, as well as from the example of Buddha himself, one
    must suppose that at the time Phralaong was born, some
    institutions, the most important one at least, viz., that of the
    Rahans, recluses, or monks, already existed in a more or less
    perfect state. Relying solely on the authority of this Legend,
    no attempt at denying this supposition can ever be made.
    Kaladewila speaks of the order of Rahans as of a thing well
    known. Nalaka sends to the bazaar for the purchase of the dress
    and other articles he wanted for his new mode of life.
    Phralaong, on his way to his garden, sees a Rahan, whose habits
    and manners are described to him by his coachman. Having become
    Buddha, he meets with ascetics and recluses living in community,
    leading a life much resembling that which he is supposed to have
    hereafter instituted, holding but few opinions, which, according
    to his own standard, were heretical. From these facts flows the
    natural conclusion that Gaudama is not the inventor or
    originator of all the Buddhistic disciplinary institutions. He
    found among the multifarious sects of Brahminism many practices
    and ordinances which he approved of and incorporated or embodied
    in his new system. This is another proof, amounting to a
    demonstration, that Buddhism is an offshoot of the great Hindu
    system. In this respect, Gaudama borrowed largely from what he
    found existing in his own days, in the schools he resorted to,
    and re-echoed many tenets upheld by the masters under whom he
    studied the sciences and the training to morals and virtue. He
    enlarged and developed certain favourite theories and principles
    which had found favour with him; at the same time, for the
    purpose of leading his disciples to perfection, he enforced many
    disciplinary regulations, almost similar to those he had been
    subjected to during the years of his probation. He was certainly
    an ardent promoter of the perfected and improved system he
    endeavoured to introduce.

    [8] The Thingan or Tsiwaran is composed of three parts--the
    thinbaing, resembling an ample petticoat, bound up to the waist,
    with a leathern girdle, and falling down to the heels; the
    kowot, which consists of a sort of cloak of a rectangular shape,
    covering the shoulders and breast, and reaching somewhat below
    the knee; and the dougout, which is a piece of cloth of the same
    shape, folded many times, thrown over the left shoulder when
    going abroad, and used to sit on when no proper seat has been
    prepared. The colour of these three pieces, constituting the
    dress of a recluse, is invariably yellow. The jack-tree supplies
    the material for dyeing the cloth yellow. In order to maintain a
    spirit of perfect poverty among the members of the order of the
    recluse, the Wini prescribes that the tsiwaran ought to be made
    up with rags picked up here and there, and sewed together. The
    rule, in this respect, at least as far as its spirit goes, is
    thoroughly disregarded, and has become almost a dead letter.

    The hairs of the head and the beard, being too often objects
    which vanity turns to its own purposes, are, to say the least,
    mere superfluities. A stern contemner of worldly things must, of
    course, do away with things which may prove temptations to him,
    or at least afford him unnecessary trouble. Hence no layman can
    ever aspire to become a Rahan unless he has previously submitted
    to the operation of a complete shaving of the head, including
    even the eye-brows.




CHAPTER III.

    _A Name is given to the child -- Prediction of the Pounhas
    respecting the child -- Death of Maia -- Miraculous occurrence
    at the child's cradle -- Adolescence of the Phralaong -- He sees
    the four signs -- Return from the garden to the royal city._


Five days after the birth of Phralaong, took place the ceremony of
washing the head and giving him a name. In the apartment of the palace
several kinds of perfumed wood and essences, such as sandal-wood,
lignum, aloes, camphor, &c., were strewed profusely, as well as the most
exquisitely scented flowers and parched rice. The nogana (a sort of
beverage made of milk, sugar, and honey) was prepared in great
abundance. One hundred and eighty Pounhas,[1] the most versed in the
science of astrology, were invited to partake of a splendid
entertainment in the palace. The king made to every one of them costly
presents, and desired them to examine carefully all the signs,
prognosticating the future destiny of his son. Amidst that crowd of
soothsayers, eight Pounhas were present, who explained the dream that
Maia had in the beginning of her pregnancy. Seven of them, lifting up
the index[2] of each hand of the child, were amazed at the wonderful
signs their eyes met. "If this child," said they, "remain in the society
of men, he will become a mighty ruler that will bring all nations under
his sway; but if he embrace the profession of recluse, he will certainly
become a Buddha." They began to foretell the incomparable glory and high
honours that would attend his universal reign. The eighth Pounha, named
Kauntagnia, the descendant of the celebrated son of Thoodata, and the
youngest of all, raised up the index of one hand of the child. Struck
with the wonderful and unmistakable signs that forced themselves on his
view, he exclaimed, "No! this child will not remain long in the society
of men; he will free himself from the vicissitudes[3] and miseries
attending the existence of all beings, and will finally become a
Buddha." As the child was to be the instrument for promoting the welfare
and merits of all mortals, they gave him the name of Theiddat.

Seven days after her confinement Maia died, and by the virtue of her
merits migrated to the seat of Toocita, and became the daughter of a
Nat.[G] Her death was not the result of her delivery, but she departed
this world because the term of her life had come. On their return to
their home, the Pounhas assembled their children and said to them, "We
are already advanced in years. We dare not promise to ourselves that we
will ever see the son of King Thoodaudana become a Buddha; but to you
such a favour is reserved. Listen respectfully to all his instructions,
and endeavour to enter the profession of Rahan without delay, and
withdraw into solitude. Let us also all join you in that holy vocation."
Three Pounhas refused the invitation, and would not enter the
profession. The five others cheerfully gave up everything, and became
distinguished members of the ascetic body.

    [G] Maia was confined in the beginning of the third age. This
    expression is rather a very loose and general one, and is far
    from indicating, with any approach to accuracy, the period of
    Maia's age when she was delivered of her son. The age of man is
    divided into three parts. The first extends from birth to the
    sixteenth or eighteenth year; the second goes to the forty-fifth
    year or thereabout; and the third, from the forty-fifth year to
    the end of life. Phralaong was born on the 68th year of the
    Eatzana era, on the 6th after the full moon of the month
    Katsong. Maia was therefore fifty-six years old. The author of
    this work strives hard to prove this the age, apparently
    advanced of Maia, was the best fitted for securing the safety
    and perfection of the fruit of her womb.

King Thoodaudana, hearing of the explanation given by the Pounhas,
inquired whether his son was really to become a Rahan. Having been
assured that all the signs predicted the future destiny of his son to
such a calling, he desired to know what those signs were. He was told
that the four following things were the very signs foreshowing the
future career of his son, viz., an old man, a sick man, a dead man, and
a recluse.[4] As soon as his son should successively remark those four
signs, he would immediately come to the conclusion that the state of
Rahan alone is worthy of the warm admiration and eager wishes of a wise
man.

King Thoodaudana, who ardently wished to see his son become a great
monarch, whose sway would extend over the four great islands and the two
thousand smaller ones, gave the strictest orders that none of the four
omens should ever meet his eyes. Guards were placed in every direction
at distances of a mile, charged with but one care, that of keeping out
of his son's sight the appearance of these fatal omens.

On that day eighty thousand noblemen, who were present at the great
rejoicings, pledged themselves each one to give one of his male children
to attend on the royal infant. "If he become," said they, "a mighty
monarch, let our sons be ever with him, as a guard of honour to confer
additional lustre on his wonderful reign. If he be ever elevated to the
sublime dignity of Buddha, let our children enter the holy profession of
recluse, and follow him whithersoever he may direct his steps."

Thoodaudana, with the tender solicitude of a vigilant father, procured
for his beloved offspring nurses exempt from all corporeal defects, and
remarkable for their beautiful and graceful appearance.

The child grew up, surrounded with a brilliant retinue of numerous
attendants.

On a certain day happened the joyful feast of the ploughing season. The
whole country, by the magnificence of the ornaments that decorated it,
resembled one of the seats of Nats. The country people without
exception, wearing new dresses, went to the palace. One thousand ploughs
and the same number of pairs of bullocks were prepared for the occasion.
Eight hundred ploughs, less one, were to be handled and guided by
noblemen. The ploughs, as well as the yokes and the horns of the
bullocks, were covered with silver leaves. But the one reserved for the
monarch was covered with leaves of gold. Accompanied by a countless
crowd of his people, King Thoodaudana left the royal city and went into
the middle of extensive fields. The royal infant was brought out by his
nurses on this joyful occasion. A splendid jambu tree (_Eugenia_),
loaded with thick and luxuriant green foliage, offered on that spot a
refreshing place under the shade of its far-spreading branches. Here the
bed of the child was deposited. A gilt canopy was immediately raised
above it, and curtains, embroidered with gold, were disposed round it.
Guardians having been appointed to watch over the infant, the king,
attended by all his courtiers, directed his steps towards the place
where all the ploughs were held in readiness. He instantly put his hands
to his own plough; eight hundred noblemen, less one, and the country
people followed his example. Pressing forward his bullocks, the king
ploughed to and fro through the extent of the fields. All the ploughmen,
emulating their royal lord, drove their ploughs in a uniform direction.
The scene presented a most animated and stirring spectacle on an immense
scale. The applauding multitude filled the air with cries of joy and
exultation. The nurses, who kept watch by the side of the infant's
cradle, excited by the animated scene, forgot the prince's orders, and
ran near to the spot to enjoy the soul-stirring sight displayed before
their admiring eyes. Phralaong, casting a glance all round, and seeing
no one close by him, rose up instantly, and, sitting in a cross-legged
position, remained absorbed as it were in a profound meditation. The
other nurses, busy in preparing the prince's meal, had spent more time
than was at first contemplated. The shadow of the trees had, by the
movement of the sun, turned in an opposite direction. The nurses,
reminded by this sight that the infant had been left alone, and that his
couch was exposed to the rays of the sun, hastened back to the spot they
had so imprudently left. But great was their surprise when they saw that
the shadow of the jambu tree had not changed its position, and that the
child was quietly sitting on his bed. The news of that wonder was
immediately conveyed to King Thoodaudana, who came in all haste to
witness it. He forthwith prostrated himself before his son, saying,
"This is, beloved child, the second time that I bow to you."

Phralaong[5] having reached his sixteenth year, his father ordered three
palaces to be built for each season of the year. Each palace had nine
stories; and forty thousand maidens, skilful in playing all sorts of
musical instruments, were in continual attendance upon him, and charmed
all his moments by uninterrupted dances and music. Phralaong appeared
among them with the beauty and dignity of a Nat, surrounded with an
immense retinue of daughters of Nats. According to the change of seasons
he passed from one palace into another, moving as it were in a circle of
ever-renewed pleasures and amusements. It was then that Phralaong was
married to the beautiful Yathaudara, his first cousin, and the daughter
of Thouppabudha and of Amitau. It was in the eighty-sixth year of his
grandfather's era that he was married, and also consecrated Prince royal
by the pouring of the blessed water over his head.

Whilst Phralaong was spending his time in the midst of pleasures, his
relatives complained to the king of the conduct of his son. They
strongly remonstrated against his mode of living, which precluded him
from applying himself to the acquisition of those attainments befitting
his exalted station. Sensible of these reproaches, Thoodaudana sent for
his son, to whom he made known the complaints directed against him by
his relatives. Without showing any emotion, the young prince replied,
"Let it be announced at the sound of the drum throughout the country,
that this day week I will show to my relatives in the presence of the
best masters that I am fully conversant with the eighteen sorts of arts
and sciences." On the appointed day he displayed before them the extent
of his knowledge; they were satisfied, and their doubts and anxieties on
his account were entirely removed.

On a certain day Phralaong, desiring to go and enjoy some sports in his
garden, ordered his coachman to have his conveyance ready for that
purpose. Four horses, richly caparisoned, were put to a beautiful
carriage, that resembled the dwelling-place of a Nat. Phralaong having
occupied his seat, the coachman drove rapidly towards the garden. The
Nats, who knew that the time was near at hand when Phralaong would
become a Buddha, resolved to place successively before his eyes the four
signs foreshowing his future high dignity. One of them assumed the form
of an old man, the body bending forward, with grey hairs, a shrivelled
skin, and leaning languidly on a heavy staff. In that attire, he
advanced slowly, with trembling steps, towards the prince's conveyance.
He was seen and remarked only by Phralaong and his coachman. "Who is
that man?" said the prince to his driver; "the hairs of his head,
indeed, do not resemble those of other men." "Prince," answered the
coachman, "he is an old man. Every born being is doomed to become like
him; his appearance must undergo the greatest changes, the skin by the
action of time will shrivel, the hairs turn grey, the veins and
arteries, losing their suppleness and elasticity, will become stiff and
hardened, the flesh will gradually sink and almost disappear, leaving
the bare bones covered with dry skin." "What?" said to himself the
terrified prince; "birth is indeed a great evil, ushering all beings
into a wretched condition, which must be inevitably attended with the
disgusting infirmities of old age!" His mind being taken up entirely
with such considerations, he ordered his coachman to drive back to the
palace. Thoodaudana, having inquired from his courtiers what motive had
induced his son to return so soon from the place of amusement, was told
that he had seen an old man, and that he entertained the thought of
becoming a Rahan.[H] "Alas!" said he, "they will succeed in thwarting
the high destiny of my son. But let us try now every means to afford him
some distraction, so that he may forget the evil idea that has just
started up in his mind." He gave orders to bring to his son's palace the
prettiest and most accomplished dancing-girls, that, in the midst of
ever renewed pleasure, he might lose sight of the thought of ever
entering the profession of Rahan. The guard surrounding his palace was
doubled, so as to preclude the possibility of his ever seeing the other
signs.

    [H] In the course of this work the word Rahan is often used. It
    is of the greatest importance that the reader should firmly
    seize the meaning that it is designed to convey. We find it
    employed to designate, in general, the religious belonging
    either to the Buddhistic or Brahminical sects. When Buddhists
    happen to mention their brethren of the opposite creed, who have
    renounced the world and devoted themselves to the practice of
    religious duties, they invariably call them Rahans. When they
    speak of Pounhas or Brahmins, who are living in the world,
    leading an ordinary secular mode of life, they never style them
    Rahans. Thence we may safely infer that the individuals to whom
    this denomination was applied formed a class of devotees quite
    distinct from the laymen.

    That class, it appears, comprised all the individuals who lived
    either in community under the superintendence and guidance of a
    spiritual superior, or privately in forests under the protecting
    shade of trees, and in lonely and solitary places. The latter
    religious are, however, generally designated by the appellation
    of Ascetics and Rathees. They were the forefathers of those
    fanatics who up to our days have appeared through the breadth
    and length of the Indian Peninsula, practising penitential deeds
    of the most cruel and revolting description. They are described
    by Buddhists as wearing curled and twisted hair, clad in the
    skins of wild beasts, and not unfrequently quite destitute of
    any sort of clothing, and in a state of complete nakedness.

    The former, who lived in community, did not lead the same course
    of life. We find some communities, the three, for instance,
    under the guidance of the three Kathabas, in the Ouroowela
    forest, not far from Radzagio, whose inmates are called either
    Rahans or Rathees. This indicates that their mode of life
    partook both of the common and hermitical life, resembling, to a
    certain extent, that which was observed by the Christian
    communities of cenobites established in the desert of Upper
    Egypt during the first ages of our era.

    Those communities appear to have been the centres in which
    principles were established, opinions discussed, and theories
    elaborated. The chiefs enjoyed high reputation for learning.
    Persons desirous to acquire proficiency in science resorted to
    their abode, and, under their tuition, strove to acquire wisdom.
    The following pages of this work will afford several striking
    illustrations of the view just sketched out.

On another day, Phralaong, on his way to his garden, met with the same
Nat under the form of a sick man, who appeared quite sinking under the
weight of the most loathsome disease. Frightened at such a sight,
Phralaong, hearing from the mouth of his faithful driver what this
disgusting object was, returned in all haste to his palace. His father,
more and more disturbed at the news conveyed to him, multiplied the
pleasures and enjoyments destined for his son, and doubled the number of
guards that had to watch over him. On a third occasion, whilst the
prince was taking a walk, the same Nat, assuming the shape of a dead
man, offered to the astonished regards of the prince the shocking sight
of a corpse. Trembling with fear, the young prince came back forthwith
to his residence. Thoodaudana, being soon informed of what had taken
place, resorted to fresh precautions, and extended to the distance of
one youdzana the immense line of countless guards set all round the
palace.

On a fourth occasion, the prince, driving rapidly towards his garden,
was met on his way by the same Nat under the meek form of a Rahan. The
curiosity of the prince was awakened by the extraordinary sight of that
new personage: he asked his coachman what he was. "Prince," answered the
coachman, "he is a Rahan." At the same time, though little acquainted
with the high dignity and sublime qualifications of a recluse, he was
enabled, by the power of the Nats, to praise and extol in dignified
language the profession and merits of Rahans. The prince felt
instantaneously an almost irresistible inclination to embrace that
attractive mode of life. He quietly went as far as his garden.

The whole day was spent in all sorts of rural diversions. Having bathed
in a magnificent tank, he went a little before sunset to rest awhile on
a large well-polished stone table, overshaded by the far-spread branches
of beautiful trees hanging above it, waiting for the time to put on his
richest dress. All his attendants were busily engaged in preparing the
finest clothes and most elegant ornaments. When all was ready, they
stood silent round him, waiting for his orders. Perfumes of every
description were disposed in a circular row with the various ornaments
on the table whereon the prince was sitting.

At that very moment a chief Thagia was quietly enjoying a delicious and
refreshing rest on the famous stone table called Pantoo Kambala. On a
sudden, he felt his seat as it were getting hot. "Lo! what does this
mean?" said the astonished Thagia; "am I doomed to lose my happy state?"
Having recollected himself, and reflected a while on the cause of such a
wonderful occurrence, he soon knew that Phralaong was preparing to put
on for the last time his princely dress. He called to him the son of a
Nat, named Withakioon, and said to him, "On this day, at midnight,
Prince Theiddat is to leave his palace and withdraw into solitude. Now
he is in his garden, preparing to put on his richest attire for the last
time. Go, therefore, without a moment's delay, to the place where he is
sitting, surrounded by his attendants, and perform to him all the
required services." Bowing respectfully to the chief of Thagias,
Withakioon obeyed, and by the power inherent in the nature of Nats, he
was in an instant carried to the presence of Phralaong. He assumed the
figure of his barber, and immediately set to work to arrange the turban
with as much taste as art round his head. Phralaong soon found out that
the skilful hand which disposed the folds of his head-dress was not that
of a man, but of a Nat. One fold of the turban appeared like one
thousand, and ten folds like ten thousand folds, offering the magical
_coup-d'oeil_ of as many different pieces of cloth, arranged with the
most consummate skill. The extremity of the turban, which crossed
vertically the whole breadth of the countless folds, appeared covered
with a profusion of shining rubies. The head of Phralaong was small, but
the folds of the turban seemed numberless. How could that be so? It is a
wonder surpassing our understanding; it would be rashness and temerity
to allow our minds to dwell too much upon it.

Having completely dressed, Phralaong[6] found himself surrounded by all
sorts of musicians, singers, and dancers, vying with each other in their
endeavours to increase the rejoicing. The Pounhas sang aloud his praise.
"May he conquer and triumph! May his wishes and desires be ever
fulfilled!" The multitude repeated incessantly in his honour stanzas of
praises and blessings. In the midst of universal rejoicings, Phralaong
ascended his carriage. He had scarcely seated himself on it, when a
message, sent by his father, conveyed to him the gladdening tidings that
Yathaudara had been delivered of a son. "That child," replied he with
great coolness, "is a new and strong tie that I will have to break." The
answer having been brought to his father, Thoodaudana could not
understand its meaning. He, however, caused his grandson to be named
Raoula. Phralaong, sitting in his carriage, surrounded by crowds of
people, who rent the air with cries of joy and jubilation, entered into
the city of Kapilawot. At that moment a princess, named Keissa Gautami,
was contemplating from her apartments the triumphant entrance of
Phralaong into the city. She admired the noble and graceful deportment
of Prince Theiddat, and exclaimed with feelings of inexpressible
delight, "Happy the father and mother who have such an incomparable son!
happy the wife who is blest with such an accomplished husband!" On
hearing those words, Phralaong desired to understand their meaning and
know their bearing. "By what means," said he to himself, "can a heart
find peace and happiness?" As his heart was already disentangled from
the thraldom of passions, he readily perceived that real happiness could
be found but in the extinction of concupiscence, pride, ignorance, and
other passions. He resolved henceforth to search ardently for the happy
state of Neibban, by quitting the world that very night, leaving the
society of men, and withdrawing into solitude. Detaching from his neck a
collar of pearls of immense value, he sent it to Keissa Gautami, as a
token of gratitude for the excellent lesson she had given him by the
words which she had uttered in his praise. The young princess received
it as a mark of favour which she imagined Prince Theiddat intended to
pay her. Without further notice of her, he retired into his own
apartment to enjoy some rest.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] Which of the two systems, Buddhism or Brahminism, is the
    most ancient? This is a question which learned Orientalists have
    in former days variously answered. If, however, some credit is
    to be given to this Legend, and the hero thereof is to be
    regarded as the author of Buddhism, the solution of that
    much-controverted question is comparatively easy, and seems to
    admit of no doubt. Priority of antiquity is decidedly in favour
    of Brahminism. At the time Buddha was born, and in his own
    country, we find already subsisting the great politico-religious
    fabric of Hinduism. The distinction of caste is already
    mentioned in several passages. We find the Pounhas or Brahmins
    already monopolising the lucrative trade of soothsaying, and
    regarded as the best informed among their countrymen. They are
    treated with great respect and consideration even by proud
    monarchs, who testify their regard for them by costly presents
    and every possible mark of distinction. It is true that their
    caste is not always spoken of with great regard by Buddhist
    authors; but this is to be attributed to the deadly enmity that
    prevailed at a later period between those two great rival sects,
    which have so long struggled for supremacy over the Indian
    Peninsula. The Brahminical creed is spoken of in very
    disparaging terms by Buddhists; and, as a matter of course, they
    have been reciprocally handled severely by their opponents. To
    those who feel inclined to regard Buddha as but a great reformer
    of a religious system already existing, the question will not
    appear cleared of all difficulty. But upon them rests the task
    of establishing on uncontrovertible grounds their hypothesis,
    ere any serious attention can be paid to the conclusion they
    would fain infer in favour of the superior antiquity of
    Buddhism. As for us, we believe Buddha to be the real author of
    the great religious system under examination. But, at the same
    time, we readily concede that many elements found existing in
    those days were seized upon by Buddha, and skilfully arranged so
    as to harmonise well with his plans.

    [2] Superstition and ignorance seem to have been in all ages and
    under every climate the prolific source of human follies and
    mental delusions. Man has always been and will ever be the same
    ridiculously superstitious being, as long as his mind is left to
    itself, unenlightened by revelation. With few exceptions, the
    greatest men of Italy and Greece were as superstitious as the
    _vulgus_, to whom, in every other respect, they were so
    superior. The resemblance error bears to truth, when human
    passions have some interest at stake, deceives many; under
    deceitful appearances it finds its way to the mind, and then
    clings to the heart. There is in man an innate desire of tearing
    asunder the thick veil that hides from him the knowledge of
    future events. Unable to comprehend the perfect economy of an
    all-wise Providence in the disposition and management of the
    affairs of this world, he has recourse to the most absurd means
    for satiating the cravings of his inordinate curiosity. Hence
    the prevailing superstition of those days, which induced men to
    believe that Brahmins, on inspecting the inner part of the hand,
    could discover certain signs, foreshowing the good or bad
    destiny of every individual.

    [3] Metempsychosis, or the transmigration of the soul from one
    state of existence into another in the same world, is one of the
    leading dogmas of Buddhism. Many passages of the present work,
    or rather the Buddhistic system as a whole, can never be
    understood unless this tenet be always borne in mind. It is by
    passing through countless existences that a being is slowly
    purified of his imperfections, and gradually advances in the way
    of merits and perfection. The sacred writings of Buddhists
    mention that our Phralaong had to range, during innumerable
    existences, the whole series of the animal kingdom, from the
    dove to the elephant, ere he could be born in the state of man,
    when, in this condition, he, as stated by himself, went often
    into hell to atone for certain trespassings. Pythagoras had
    likely borrowed, and received directly or indirectly from the
    East, this doctrine, which his school re-echoed throughout
    Greece and Italy. The end of metempsychosis is, according to
    Buddhists, the state of Neibban. On this point the author of
    Buddhism has been at variance with other religious schools,
    which in his own days held and professed the dogma of
    transmigration.

    [4] The three first allegorical omens or signs which, according
    to the foretelling of the Pounhas, were to be seen and observed
    hereafter by Phralaong, are designed to mean and express the
    compound of all miseries attending human existence, from the
    moment man crosses the threshold of life to that of death. The
    view of these objects was intended to make him disgusted with a
    state necessarily accompanied with such an amount of
    wretchedness. He was soon induced by reflection to hold in
    contempt the things of this world, and consequently to seek with
    ardour some means of estranging himself from all visible and
    material objects. The fourth sign, that is to say, the view of a
    Rahan, or a contemner of this world, aspiring to perfect
    disengagement from the trammels of passion, and shaping his
    course towards Neibban, was the very pattern he had to imitate
    and follow for arriving to that state of perfection which he
    felt a strong, though as yet somewhat confused, desire of
    possessing.

    The Nats or Dewatas are the ever-ready ministers for affording
    to Phralaong the assistance he requires to reach in safety the
    Buddhaship. They rejoice at the news of his approaching
    conception in the womb of Maia; they watch over the mother who
    is to give birth to so blessed a child; they receive the
    newly-born infant, and hand him over to men; they baffle, by
    their almost supernatural power, the obstacles which the
    worldly-minded Thoodaudana tries to throw in the way of his
    son's vocation; in a word, their angelical ministrations are
    always at hand to help and protect our Phralaong, and enable him
    to reach that state wherein he shall be fully qualified for
    announcing to men the law of deliverance. The belief in the
    agency of angels between heaven and earth, and their being the
    messengers of God for conveying, on solemn occasions, his
    mandates to men, is coeval, according to sacred records, with
    the appearance of man in this world. Innumerable are the
    instances of angelical ministrations mentioned in the holy writ.
    We look upon angels as mere spiritual substances, assuming a
    human form, when, by the command of God, they have to bring down
    to men some divine message. In the system of the Buddhists, Nats
    are described as having bodies indeed, but of such a pure
    nature, particularly those inhabiting the superior seats, that
    they are not only not subjected to the miseries inherent in our
    nature, but are moreover gifted with such superior attainments
    as almost to enjoy the perfections and qualifications inherent
    in the nature of spirits. On this occasion the Nats are
    endeavouring to make virtue triumph over vice; but, in the
    course of this legend, we will have several opportunities of
    remarking a counteraction worked up by evil or wicked Nats for
    upholding the reign of passion or of sin. In this system the two
    contending elements of good and evil have each its own advocates
    and supporters. A Hindu Milton might have found two thousand
    years ago a ready theme for writing, in Sanscrit or Pali, a poem
    similar to that more recently composed by the immortal English
    bard.

    [5] From what has been already mentioned of the life of our
    Phralaong, we may see that many particulars regarding his birth
    and his childhood have been described with sufficient accuracy;
    but little or nothing is said of his adolescence, at least until
    the age of sixteen, when he gets united to the famous and
    youthful Yathaudara. In common with many other great men, almost
    all the years of the private life of this celebrated and
    extraordinary personage are wrapped up in a complete obscurity.
    We may conclude from his great proficiency in the knowledge of
    those sciences and attainments befitting his high situation, he
    was not remiss, since he was enabled to set at defiance the
    greatest masters of those days. In the midst of pleasures he
    knew how to devote the best part of his time to study, unless we
    suppose that science was infused into his mind by no exertion of
    his own. The Burmese have a regular mania for dividing with a
    mathematical precision what at first appears to admit of no such
    division. Virtues, vices, sciences, arts, &c., all, in a word,
    are subjected to a rigorous division, which, if arbitrary in
    itself, has the great advantage of conferring a substantial help
    to the memory.

    [6] The triumphant return of Phralaong from his garden to the
    city, when he is attired with the richest dress, is commemorated
    by Buddhists, at least in Burmah, on the day a young boy is
    preparing to enter into a monastery of recluses for the purpose
    of putting on the yellow robe, and preparing himself to become
    afterwards a member of the order, if he feel an inclination to
    enlist in its ranks. Phralaong was bidding a last farewell to
    the world, its pomps and vanities. So the youthful candidate is
    doing who is led processionally through the streets, riding a
    richly-caparisoned horse, or sitting on an elegant palanquin,
    carried on the shoulders of men. A description of this ceremony
    will be found in the notice on the Buddhistic monks or
    Talapoins.

    I am obliged to confess that I have found it somewhat difficult
    to discover any connection between the expressions made use of
    by Keissa Gautami and the inference drawn therefrom by
    Phralaong. The explanation of the difficulty may be, however,
    stated as follows:--Gautami bestows the epithet happy or blessed
    upon the father and mother as well as on the wife of Prince
    Theiddat, because she remarked and observed in him those
    qualities and accomplishments befitting a worthy son and a good
    husband. The words blessed and happy struck the mind of the
    future Buddha, attracted his attention, and drew forth his
    exertions to find out their true import. He asks himself, In
    what consists true and real happiness? Where is it to be found?
    By what means can such an invaluable treasure be procured? Can
    it be conferred upon man by the possession of some exterior
    object? Can his parents or wife be really happy by the mere
    accidental ties that connect them with his person? No, answers
    our young philosopher to himself: Happiness can be procured but
    by waging war against passions, and carrying it on until their
    total destruction. Then the victorious soul, sitting calmly on
    the ruins of her deadly opponents, enjoys in the undisturbed
    contemplation of truth an indescribable happiness. In this we
    clearly perceive the unmistakable bearing of Buddhistic morals.
    It is as it were the embryo of the whole system.

    King Thoodaudana, influenced by worldly considerations, eagerly
    wished his son to become a great monarch instead of a poor and
    humble recluse, even a Buddha. This alone suggests the idea that
    in those days the _rôle_ of a Buddha was not held in so great an
    esteem and veneration as it was afterwards. Had it been
    otherwise, the most ambitious father might have remained well
    satisfied with the certainty of seeing his own son becoming a
    personage before whom the proudest monarch would one day lower
    to the dust their crowned heads.

    At that time a Buddha, or the personage honoured with that
    title, was looked upon as a mere sage, distinguished among his
    fellow-men by his great wisdom and eminent proficiency in the
    study of philosophy. It is highly probable that this name had
    been bestowed upon a great many illustrious individuals who
    lived before the days of Gaudama. Hence the fabricated genealogy
    of twenty-eight former Buddhas, supposed to have lived myriads
    of years and worlds previously, including the three that have
    preceded him during the continuance of this system of nature.
    Here a superstitious and ill-judged enthusiasm has raised up
    heaps of extravagancies, setting up a ridiculous theory,
    designed to connect the _rôle_ of the present Buddha with those
    of a fabulous antiquity, and give additional lustre to it. There
    is no doubt that the glowing halo of sacredness and glory,
    encircling now the name of Buddha, has never adorned that of any
    former one. It has been created by the extraordinary progress
    his doctrines made at first in the Indian Peninsula, and next
    throughout eastern Asia, and kept up by the fervent admiration
    of his enthusiastic followers.

    The means resorted to by Thoodaudana to retain his son in the
    world of passions, and thereby thwart his vocation, could not,
    we hardly need mention, be approved of by any moralist of even
    the greatest elasticity of conscience and principles; but they
    were eminently fitted to try the soundness of Phralaong's
    calling, and the strong and tenacious dispositions of his
    energetic mind. They set out in vivid colours the firmness of
    purpose and irresistible determination of his soul in following
    up his vocation to a holier mode of life; and what is yet more
    wonderful, the very objects that were designed to enslave him
    became the instruments which helped him in gaining and
    ascertaining his liberty. Magnificent, indeed, is the spectacle
    offered by a young prince remaining unmoved in the midst of the
    most captivating, soul-stirring, and heart-melting attractions;
    sitting coolly on his couch, and looking with indifference, nay,
    with disgust, on the crowd of sleeping beauties.




CHAPTER IV.

    _Phralaong leaves his palace, the royal city, and retires into
    solitude, amidst the plaudits of the Nats -- He cuts his fine
    hair with a stroke of his sword, and puts on the habit of Rahan
    -- He begs his food at Radzagio -- His interview with the ruler
    of that place -- His studies under two Rathees -- His fast and
    penances in the solitude of Oorouwela during six years._


Phralaong had scarcely begun to recline on his couch, when a crowd of
young damsels, whose beauty equalled that of the daughters of Nats,
executed all sorts of dances to the sound of the most ravishing
symphony, and displayed in all their movements the graceful forms of
their elegant and well-shaped persons, in order to make some impression
upon his heart. But all was in vain; they were foiled in their repeated
attempts. Phralaong fell into a deep sleep. The damsels, in their
disappointment, ceased their dances, laid aside their musical
instruments, and, soon following the example of Phralaong, quietly
yielded to the soporific influence caused by their useless and harassing
exertions. The lamps, lighted with fragrant oil, continued to pour a
flood of bright light throughout the apartments. Phralaong awoke a
little before midnight, and sat in a cross-legged position on his couch.
Looking all around him, he saw the varied attitudes and uninviting
appearance of the sleeping damsels. Some were snoring, others gnashing
their teeth, others had their mouths wide open; some tossed heavily from
the right to the left side, others stretched one arm upwards and the
other downwards; some, seized as it were with a frantic pang, suddenly
coiled up their legs for a while, and with the same violent motion
again pushed them down. This unexpected exhibition made a strong
impression on Phralaong; his heart was set, if possible, freer from the
ties of concupiscence, or rather he was confirmed in his contempt for
all worldly pleasures. It appeared to him that his magnificent
apartments were filled with the most loathsome and putrid carcasses. The
seats of passions, those of Rupa and those of Arupa, that is to say, the
whole world, seemed, to his eyes, like a house that is a prey to the
devouring flames. "All that," said he to himself, "is most disgusting
and despicable." At the same time his ardent desires for the profession
of Rahan were increasing with an uncontrollable energy. "On this day, at
this very moment," said he with an unshaken firmness, "I will retire
into a solitary place." He rose instantly and went to the arched door of
his apartment. "Who is here watching?" said he to the first person he
met. "Your servant," replied instantly the vigilant nobleman Tsanda.
"Rise up quickly," replied the prince; "now I am ready to retire from
the world and resort to some lonely place. Go to the stable and prepare
the fastest of my horses." Tsanda bowed respectfully to his master, and
executed his orders with the utmost celerity. The horse Kantika, knowing
the intentions of the prince, felt an inexpressible joy at being
selected for such a good errand, and he testified his joy by loud
neighs; but, by the power of the Nats, the sound of his voice was
silenced, so that none heard it.

While Tsanda, in compliance with the orders he had received, was making
the necessary preparations, Phralaong desired to see his newly born son
Raoula. He opened gently the door of the room where the princess was
sleeping, having one of her hands placed over the head of the infant.
Phralaong, stopping at the threshold, said to himself:--"If I go farther
to contemplate the child, I will have to remove the hand of the mother;
she may be awakened by this movement, and then she will prove a great
obstacle to my departure. I will see the child after I have become a
Buddha." He then instantly shut the door and left the palace. His
charger was waiting for him. "To your swiftness," said Phralaong to
Kantika, "do I trust for executing my great design. I must become a
Buddha, and labour for the deliverance of men and Nats from the miseries
of existence, and lead them safely to the peaceful shores of Neibban."
In a moment he was on the back of his favourite horse. Kantika was a
magnificent animal; his body measured eighteen cubits in length, with
which his height and circumference were in perfect proportion. The hair
was of a beautiful white, resembling a newly cleaned shell; his
swiftness was unrivalled, and his neighings could be heard at a very
great distance; but on this occasion the Nats interfered, no sound of
his voice was heard, and the noise of his steps was completely silenced.
Having reached the gate of the city, Phralaong stopped for a while,
uncertain as regarded the course he was to follow. To open the gate,
which a thousand men could with difficulty cause to turn upon its
hinges, was deemed an impossibility. Whilst he was deliberating with his
faithful attendant Tsanda, the huge gate was silently opened by the
Nats, and a free passage given to him through it. It was in the year 97
when he left Kapilawot.

Phralaong had scarcely crossed the threshold of the gate when the
tempter endeavoured to thwart his pious design. Manh[1] Nat resolved to
prevent him from retiring into solitude and becoming a Buddha. Standing
in the air, he cried aloud, "Prince Theiddat, do not attempt to lead the
life of a recluse; seven days hence you will become a Tsekiawaday; your
sway shall extend over the four great islands; return forthwith to your
palace." "Who are you?" replied Phralaong. "I am Manh Nat," cried the
voice. "I know," said Phralaong, "that I can become a Tsekiawaday, but I
feel not the least inclination for earthly dignities; my aim is to
arrive at the nature of Buddha." The tempter, urged onward by his three
wicked propensities, concupiscence, ignorance, and anger, did not part
for a moment from Phralaong; but as the shadow always accompanies the
body, he too, from that day, always followed Phralaong, striving to
throw every obstacle in his way towards the dignity of Buddha. Trampling
down every human and worldly consideration, and despising a power full
of vanity and illusion, Phralaong left the city of Kapilawot, at the
full moon of July under the constellation Oottarathan. A little while
after, he felt a strong desire to turn round his head and cast a last
glance at the magnificent city he was leaving behind him; but he soon
overcame that inordinate desire and denied himself this gratification.
It is said that on the very instant he was combating the rising sense of
curiosity the mighty earth turned with great velocity, like a potter's
wheel, so that the very object he denied himself the satisfaction of
contemplating came of itself under his eyes. Phralaong hesitated a while
as to the direction he was to follow, but he resolved instantly to push
on straight before him.

His progress through the country resembled a splendid triumphal
ovation. Sixty thousand Nats marched in front of him, an equal number
followed him, and as many surrounded him on his right and on his left.
All of them carried lighted torches, pouring a flood of light in every
direction; others again spread perfumes and flowers brought from their
own seats. All joined in chorus, singing the praises of Phralaong. The
sound of their united voices resembled loud peals of continued thunder,
and the resounding of the mighty waves at the foot of the Mount Oogando.
Flowers, shedding the most fragrant odour, were seen gracefully
undulating in the air, like an immense canopy, extending to the farthest
limits of the horizon. During that night, Phralaong, attended with that
brilliant retinue, travelled a distance of thirty youdzanas, and arrived
on the banks of the river Anauma. Turning his face towards Tsanda, he
asked what was the river's name. "Anauma is its name," replied his
faithful attendant. "I will not," said Phralaong to himself, "show
myself unworthy of the high dignity I aspire to." Spurring his horse,
the fierce animal leaped at once to the opposite bank. Phralaong
alighted on the ground, which was covered with a fine sand resembling
pearls, when the rays of the sun fell upon it in the morning. On that
spot he divested himself of his dress, and calling Tsanda to him, he
directed him to take charge of his ornaments, and carry them back with
the horse Kantika to his palace. For himself, he had made up his mind to
become a Rahan. "Your servant too," replied Tsanda, "will become also a
recluse in your company." "No," said the prince, "the profession of
Rahan does not at present befit you." He reiterated this prohibition
three times. When he was handing over to Tsanda his costly ornaments, he
said to himself, "These long hairs that cover my head, and my beard too,
are superfluities unbecoming the profession of Rahan." Whereupon with
one hand unsheathing his sword, and with the other seizing his comely
hairs, he cut them with a single stroke. What remained of his hairs on
the head measured about one inch and a half in length. In like manner
he disposed of his beard. From that time he never needed shaving; the
hairs of his beard and those of the head never grew longer during the
remainder of his life.[2] Holding his hairs and turban together, he
cried aloud, "If I am destined to become a Buddha, let these hairs and
turban remain suspended in the air; if not, let them drop down on the
ground." Throwing up both to the height of one youdzana, they remained
suspended in the air, until a Nat came with a rich basket, put them
therein, and carried them to the seat of Tawadeintha. He there erected
the Dzedi Dzoulamani, wherein they were religiously deposited. Casting
his regards on his own person, Phralaong saw that his rich and shining
robe did not answer his purpose, nor appear befitting the poor and
humble profession he was about to embrace. While his attention was taken
up with this consideration, a great Brahma, named Gatigara, who in the
days of the Buddha Kathaba had been an intimate friend of our Phralaong,
and who, during the period that elapsed between the manifestation of
that Buddha to the present time, had not grown old, discovered at once
the perplexity of his friend's mind. "Prince Theiddat," said he, "is
preparing to become a Rahan, but he is not supplied with the dress and
other implements essentially required for his future calling. I will
provide him now with the thinbaing, the kowot, the dugout, the patta,
the leathern girdle, the hatchet, the needle, and filter."[3] He took
with him all these articles, and in an instant arrived in the presence
of Phralaong, to whom he presented them. Though unacquainted with the
details of that dress, and untrained in the use of those new implements,
the prince, like a man who had been a recluse during several existences,
put on with a graceful gravity his new dress. He adjusted the thinbaing
round his waist, covered his body with the kowot, threw the dugout over
his shoulders, and suspended to his neck the bag containing the earthen
patta. Assuming the grave, meek, and dignified countenance of a Rahan,
he called Tsanda and bade him go back to his father and relate to him
all that he had seen. Tsanda, complying with his master's request,
prostrated himself three times before him; then, rising up, he wheeled
to the right and departed. The spirited horse, hearing the last words of
Phralaong, could no more control his grief.[4]

"Alas!" said he, "I will see no more my master in this world." His
sorrow grew so great that his heart split into two parts, and he died on
the spot.

After his death, he became a Nat in the seat of Tawadeintha. The
affliction of Tsanda at parting with his good master was increased by
the death of Kantika. The tears that streamed down his cheeks resembled
drops of liquid silver.

Phralaong, having thus begun the life of a recluse, spent seven days
alone in a forest of mango trees, enjoying in that retirement the peace
and happiness of soul which solitude alone can confer. The place, in the
neighbourhood of which he began his religious life, is called Anupyia,
in the country belonging to the Malla princes. He then started for the
country of Radzagio, travelling on foot a distance of thirty youdzanas.
Arrived near the gate of the royal city, Phralaong stopped for a while,
saying within himself, "Peimpathara, the king of this country, will no
doubt hear of my arrival in this place. Knowing that the son of King
Thoodaudana is actually in his own royal city, he will insist upon my
accepting all sorts of presents. But now, in my capacity of Rahan, I
must decline accepting them, and by the rules of my profession I am
bound to go and beg along the streets, from house to house, the food
necessary for my support." He instantly resumed his journey, entered the
city through the eastern gate, the patta hanging on his side, and
followed the first row of houses, receiving the alms which pious hands
offered him. At the moment of his arrival the whole city was shaken by a
mighty commotion, like that which is felt in the seat of Thoora when the
Nat Athoorein makes his apparition in it. The inhabitants, terrified at
such an ominous sign, ran in all haste to the palace. Admitted into the
presence of the monarch, they told him that they knew not what sort of
being had just arrived in the city, walking through the streets and
begging alms. They could not ascertain whether he was a Nat, a man, or a
Galong. The king, looking from his apartments over the city, saw
Phralaong, whose meek deportment removed all anxiety from his mind. He,
however, directed a few of his noblemen to go and watch attentively all
the movements of the stranger. "If he be," said he, "a Bilou, he will
soon leave the city and vanish away; if a Nat, he will raise himself in
the air; if a Naga, he will plunge to the bottom of the earth."
Phralaong, having obtained the quantity of rice, vegetables, &c., he
thought sufficient for his meal, left the city through the same gate by
which he had entered it, sat down at the foot of a small hill, his face
turned towards the east, and tried to make his meal with the things he
had received. He could not swallow the first mouthful, which he threw
out of his mouth in utter disgust. Accustomed to live sumptuously and
feed on the most delicate things, his eyes could not bear even the sight
of that loathsome mixture of the coarsest articles of food collected at
the bottom of his patta. He soon, however, recovered from that shock;
and gathered fresh strength to subdue the opposition of nature, overcome
its repugnance, and conquer its resistance. Reproaching himself for such
an unbecoming weakness:--"Was I not aware," said he, with a feeling of
indignation against himself, "that when I took up the dress of a
mendicant such would be my food? The moment is come to trample upon
nature's appetites." Whereupon he took up his patta, ate cheerfully his
meal, and never afterwards did he ever feel any repugnance at what
things soever he had to eat.

The king's messengers, having closely watched and attentively observed
all that had happened, returned to their master, to whom they related
all the particulars that they had witnessed. "Let my carriage be ready,"
said the king, "and you, follow me to the place where this stranger is
resting." He soon perceived Phralaong at a distance, sitting quietly
after his refection. Peimpathara alighted from his conveyance,
respectfully drew near to Phralaong, and, having occupied a seat in a
becoming place, was overwhelmed with contentment and inexpressible joy
to such an extent, indeed, that he could scarcely find words to give
utterance to his feelings. Having at last recovered from the first
impression, he addressed Phralaong in the following manner:--"Venerable
Rahan, you seem to be young still, and in the prime of your life; in
your person you are gifted with the most attractive and noble qualities,
indicating surely your illustrious and royal extraction. I have under my
control and in my possession a countless crowd of officers, elephants,
horses and chariots, affording every desirable convenience for pleasure
and amusement of every description. Please to accept of a numerous
retinue of attendants, with whom you may enjoy yourself whilst remaining
within my dominions. May I be allowed to ask what country you belong to,
who you are, and from what illustrious lineage and descent you are
come?" Phralaong said to himself:--"It is evident that the king is
unacquainted with both my name and origin; I will, however, satisfy him
on the subject of his inquiry." Pointing out with his hand in the
direction of the place he had come from, he said:--"I arrive from the
country which has been governed by a long succession of the descendants
of Prince Kothala. I have, indeed, been born from royal progenitors, but
I have abandoned all the prerogatives attached to my position, and
embraced the profession of Rahan. From my heart I have rooted up
concupiscence, covetousness, and all affections to the things of this
world." To this the king replied:--"I have heard that Prince Theiddat,
son of King Thoodaudana, had seen four great signs, portending his
future destiny for the profession of Rahan, which would be but a step to
lead him to the exalted dignity of a Buddha. The first part of the
prediction has been already fulfilled. When the second shall have
received its accomplishment, I beg you will show your benevolence to me
and my people. I hope my kingdom will be the first country you will
direct your steps to, after having acquired the supreme science." To
this Phralaong graciously assented.

Phralaong, having left the king, resumed his journey, and fell in with a
Rathee,[5] or hermit, named Alara, and inquired about the several
Dzans. Alara satisfied him on four kinds of Dzans, but as regards the
fifth, he was obliged to refer him to another Rathee, named Oudaka, who
gave him the necessary explanations. Having nothing more to learn from
these masters, Phralaong said to himself, "The knowledge I have thus
acquired is not sufficient to enable me to obtain the dignity of
Buddha." Whereupon he resolved to devote himself to the Kamatan[6] or
meditation on the instability and nothingness of all that exists. To
effectuate thoroughly his purpose, he repaired to the solitude of
Oorouwela, where he devoted all his time to the deepest meditation. On a
certain day it happened that five Rahans, on their way to a certain
place to get their food, arrived at the spot where Phralaong lived and
had already entered on the course of his penitential deeds. They soon
became impressed with the idea that our hermit was to become a Buddha.
They resolved to stay with him and render him all the needful services,
such as sweeping the place, cooking rice, &c.

The time for the six years of meditation was nearly over, when Phralaong
undertook a great fast,[7] which was carried to such a degree of
abstemiousness that he scarcely allowed to himself the use of a grain
of rice or sesame a day, and finally denied himself even that feeble
pittance. But the Nats, who observed his excessive mortification,
inserted Nat food through the pores of his skin. Whilst Phralaong was
thus undergoing such a severe fasting, his face, which was of a
beautiful gold colour, became black; the thirty-two marks indicative of
his future dignity disappeared. On a certain day, when he was walking in
a much enfeebled state, on a sudden he felt an extreme weakness, similar
to that caused by a dire starvation. Unable to stand up any longer, he
fainted and fell on the ground. Among the Nats that were present, some
said, "The Rahan Gaudama is dead indeed;" some others replied, "He is
not dead, but has fainted from want of food." Those who believed he was
dead hastened to his father's palace to convey to him the sad message of
his son's death. Thoodaudana inquired if his son died previous to his
becoming a Buddha. Having been answered in the affirmative, he refused
to give credit to the words of the Nats. The reason of his doubting the
accuracy of the report was, that he had witnessed the great wonders
prognosticating his son's future dignity that had taken place, first
when Phralaong, then an infant, was placed in the presence of a famous
Rathee, and secondly, when he slept under the shade of the tree
Tsampoo-thabia. The fainting being over, and Phralaong having recovered
his senses, the same Nats went in all haste to Thoodaudana, to inform
him of his son's happy recovery. "I knew well," said the king, "that my
son could not die ere he had become a Buddha." The fame of Phralaong's
having spent six years in solitude, addicted to meditation and
mortification, spread abroad like the sound of a great bell,[8] hung in
the canopy of the skies.

Phralaong soon remarked that fasting and mortification were not works of
sufficient value for obtaining the dignity of Buddha; he took up his
patta and went to the neighbouring village to get his food. Having eaten
it, he grew stronger; his beautiful face shone again like gold, and the
thirty-two signs reappeared.[9] The five Rahans that had lived with him
said to each other--"It is in vain that the Rahan Gaudama has, during
six years of mortification and sufferings, sought the dignity of
Buddha; he is now compelled to go out in search of food; assuredly, if
he be obliged to live on such food, when shall he ever become a Buddha?
He goes out in quest of food; verily, he aims at enriching himself. As
the man that wants drops of dew or water to refresh and wash his
forehead, has to look for them, so we have to go somewhere else to learn
the way to, and the merit of, Dzan, which we have not been able to
obtain from him." Whereupon they left Phralaong, took up their pattas
and tsiwarans, went to a distance of eighteen youdzanas, and withdrew
into the forest of Migadawon, near Baranathee.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] Phralaong having overcome with uncommon fortitude the
    numberless obstacles which he had encountered on the part of
    men, will have now to meet another foe, perhaps more formidable,
    a wicked Nat, or demon. His name, according to its orthography,
    is Mar or Mara, but the Burmese call him Manh, which means
    pride. Manh is, therefore, the evil spirit of pride, or rather
    personified pride, and the enemy of mankind, ever ready to
    oppose the benevolent designs and generous efforts of Buddha in
    carrying on his great undertaking, conceived to benefit
    humanity, by teaching men the way that leads to deliverance from
    all miseries. The first plan concocted by Manh for stopping, at
    the very outset, the progress of Phralaong, was to flatter his
    ambition by promising him _all the kingdoms of this world and
    their glory_. From that day the tempter never lost sight of the
    benevolent Buddha, but followed him everywhere, endeavouring to
    prevent the immense success that was to attend his future
    mission. The evil propensities which constitute, as it were, the
    very essence of Manh's nature, are concupiscence, envy, and an
    irresistible proneness to do harm. The devil indeed could hardly
    be made up of worse materials.

    It is really interesting through the course of this Legend to
    read of the uninterrupted efforts made by the personification of
    evil to thwart Buddha in all his benevolent designs. The
    antagonism begins now, but it will be maintained with an
    obstinate and prolonged activity during the whole life of
    Buddha.

    [2] This circumstance explains one peculiarity observable in all
    the statues representing Buddha. The head is invariably covered
    with sharp points, resembling those thorns with which the thick
    envelope of the durian fruit is armed. Often I had inquired as
    to the motive that induced native sculptors to leave on the head
    of all statues that sort of inverted nails, without ever being
    able to obtain any satisfactory answer. It was only after having
    read this passage of the life of Buddha that I was enabled to
    account for this apparently singular custom, which is designed
    to remind all Buddhists of the ever-continued wonder whereby the
    hairs which remained on Buddha's head never grew longer from the
    day he cut them with his sword.

    [3] Every talapoin or recluse must be provided with one needle,
    wherewith he is to sew his dress, one hatchet to cut the wood he
    may be in need of, either for erecting a shelter for himself or
    for other purposes, and one filter to strain the water he
    intends to drink, that it might be cleared from all impurities,
    but chiefly of insects or any living body that might be in it,
    which would expose the drinker thereof to the enormous sin of
    causing the death of some animal.

    [4] The various accounts that are given of the horse Kantika,
    and the grief he feels at parting with his master, grief which
    reaches so far as to cause his death, may appear somewhat
    extraordinary, puerile, and ridiculous to every one except to
    Buddhists. One great principle of that religious system is that
    man does not differ from animals in nature, but only in relative
    perfection. In animals there are souls as well as in men, but
    these souls, on account of the paucity of their merits and the
    multiplicity of their demerits, are yet in a very imperfect
    state. When the law of demerits grows weak, and that of merits
    gathers strength, the soul, though continuing to inhabit the
    body of animals, has the knowledge of good and evil, and can
    attain to a certain degree of perfection. Buddhistic writings
    supply many instances of this belief. Whilst Buddha was in the
    desert, an elephant ministered to all his wants. As a reward for
    such a series of services, Buddha preached to him the law, and
    led him at once to the deliverance, that is to say, to the state
    of Neibban. When one animal has progressed so far in the way of
    merits as to be able to discern between good and bad, it is said
    that he is ripe, or fit to become man. The horse Kantika seems
    to have reached that state of full ripeness, since, after his
    death, he passed to the state of Nat. This peculiar tenet of
    Buddhistic faith accounts for the first of the five great
    commands, which extends the formal injunction of "thou shalt not
    kill" to animals. When a candidate is admitted, according to the
    prescriptions contained in the sacred Kambawa, into the order of
    Rahans, he is expressly and solemnly commanded to refrain from
    committing four sins, which would deprive him _de facto_ of the
    dignity he has been elevated to. The taking away willingly of
    the life of anything animated, is one of these four
    trespassings.

    [5] The fact of Buddha placing himself under the tuition of two
    masters or teachers, leading an ascetic life, to learn from them
    notions of the most abstruse nature, establishes, beyond all
    doubt, the high antiquity of the existence in India of a large
    number of individuals, who, living in some retired spot, far
    from the tumult of society, endeavoured, by constant
    application, to dive into the deepest recesses of morals and
    metaphysics. The fame of the learning of many among them
    attracted to their solitude crowds of disciples, anxious to
    study under such eminent masters. Hence we see some of these
    Rathees at the head of four or five hundred disciples. There is
    no doubt that the most distinguished Rathees became the founders
    of many of those philosophico-religious schools for which India
    was renowned from the remotest antiquity. Like many others who
    thirsted for knowledge, Phralaong resorted to the schools of the
    Rathees, as to the then most celebrated seats of learning.

    From this fact we may be allowed to draw another inference,
    which may be considered as a consequence of what has been stated
    in a foregoing note, regarding the superior antiquity of
    Brahminism over Buddhism. Phralaong was brought up in the bosom
    of a society regulated and governed by Brahminical institutions.
    He must have been imbued from the earliest days of his
    elementary education with the notions generally taught, viz.:
    the Brahminical ones. When he grew up and began to think for
    himself, he was displeased with certain doctrines which did not
    tally with his own ideas. Following the example of many that had
    preceded him in the way of innovation, he boldly shaped his
    course in a new direction, and soon arrived at a final issue on
    many points, both with his teachers and some of the doctrines
    generally received in the society in which he had been brought
    up. We may, therefore, safely conclude that the doctrines
    supposed to have been preached by the latest Buddha are but an
    off-shoot of Brahminism. This may serve to account for the great
    resemblance subsisting between many doctrines of both creeds.
    The cardinal points on which these two systems essentially
    differ are the beginning and the end of living beings. Between
    these two extremes there is a multitude of points on which both
    systems so perfectly agree that they appear blended together.

    The Rathees seem, according to the institutes of Menoo, to have
    been first in observing two practices, much enforced by the Wini
    in subsequent times. They were supported by the alms bestowed on
    them by their disciples and the admirers of their singular mode
    of life. They were courted and esteemed by the world, in
    proportion to the contempt they appeared to hold it in. Denying
    to themselves the pleasures which were opposed to their austere
    life, they observed, as long as they remained Rathees, the rules
    of the strictest celibacy.

    Phralaong, preparing himself for his future high calling, began
    to study the science of _Dzan_ under distinguished masters. What
    is meant by Dzan? This Pali word means thought, reflection,
    meditation. It is often designed by the Burmese to mean a
    peculiar state of the soul that has already made great progress
    in the way of perfection. Phralaong intended, by placing himself
    under the direction of those eminent teachers, to learn the
    great art of training his mind for the obtaining, by constant
    and well-directed meditations, of high mental attainments. In
    the book of Buddhistic metaphysics, I have found the science of
    Dzan divided into five parts, or rather five steps, which the
    mind has to ascend successively ere it can enjoy a state of
    perfect quiescence, the highest point a perfected being can
    arrive at before reaching the state of Neibban. In the first
    step the soul searches after what is good and perfect, and
    having discovered it, turns its attention and the energy of its
    faculties towards it. In the second, the soul begins to
    contemplate steadily what it has first discovered, and rivets
    upon it its attention. In the third stage, the soul fondly
    relishes, and is, as it were, entirely taken with it. In the
    fourth, the soul calmly enjoys and quietly feasts on the pure
    truths it has loved in the former state. In the fifth, the soul,
    perfectly satiated with the knowledge of truth, remains in a
    state of complete quietude, perfect fixity, unmoved stability,
    which nothing can any longer alter or disturb. The Burmese and
    all Buddhists, always fond of what is wonderful, attribute
    supernatural perfections to those who have so far advanced in
    mental attainments. Their bodies become, as it were,
    half-spiritualised, so that they can, according to their wishes,
    carry themselves through the air from one place to another,
    without the least hindrance or difficulty.

    [6] Kamatan means the fixing of the attention on one object, so
    as to investigate thoroughly all its constituent parts, its
    principle and origin, its existence and its final destruction.
    It is that part of metaphysics which treats of the beginning,
    nature, and end of beings. To become proficient in that science,
    a man must be gifted with a most extensive knowledge and an
    analysing mind of no common cast. The process of Kamatan is as
    follows. Let it be supposed that man intends to contemplate one
    of the four elements, fire, for instance; he abstracts himself
    from every object which is not fire, and devotes all his
    attention to the contemplation of that object alone; he examines
    the nature of fire, and finding it a compound of several
    distinct parts, he investigates the cause or causes that keep
    those parts together, and soon discovers that they are but
    accidental ones, the action whereof may be impeded or destroyed
    by the occurrence of any sudden accident. He concludes that fire
    has but a fictitious ephemeral existence. The same method is
    followed in examining the other elements, and gradually all
    other things he may come in contact with, and his final
    conclusion is, that all things placed without him are destitute
    of real existence, being mere illusions, divested of all
    reality. He infers, again, that all things are subjected to the
    law of incessant change, without fixity or stability. The wise
    man, therefore, can feel no attachment to objects which, in his
    own opinion, are but illusions and deception: his mind can
    nowhere find rest in the midst of illusions always succeeding to
    each other. Having surveyed all that is distinct of self, he
    applies himself to the work of investigating the origin and
    nature of his body. After a lengthened examination, he arrives,
    as a matter of course, at the same conclusion. His body is a
    mere illusion without reality, subjected to changes and
    destruction. He feels that it is as yet distinct from self. He
    despises his body, as he does everything else, and has no
    concern for it. He longs for the state of Neibban, as the only
    one worthy of the wise man's earnest desire. By such a
    preliminary step, the student, having estranged himself from
    this world of illusions, advances towards the study of the
    excellent works which will pave the way to Neibban. The Burmese
    reckon forty Kamatans. They are often repeated over by devotees,
    whose weak intellect is utterly incapable of understanding the
    meaning they are designed to convey to the mind.

    Notwithstanding his singular aptitude in acquiring knowledge,
    Phralaong devoted six whole years, in the solitude of Oorouwela,
    busily engaged in mastering the profound science he aimed at
    acquiring. It was during that time that he received the visits
    of five Rahans, whose chief was named Koondanha. They were very
    probably, like so many of their profession, travelling about in
    search of knowledge. They placed themselves under the direction
    of Phralaong, and in exchange for the lessons they received from
    him, they served him as humble and grateful disciples are wont
    to attend on a highly esteemed teacher. In this, as well as many
    other circumstances, we see that, previous to Gaudama's
    preachings, there already existed in India an order of devotees
    or enthusiasts, who lived secluded from the world, devoted to
    the study of religious doctrines and the practice of virtues of
    the highest order. The order of Buddhistic monks or talapoins,
    which was subsequently established by the author of Buddhism, is
    but a modification of what actually subsisted in full vigour in
    his own country and in his own time.

    [7] In a Buddhistic point of view the only reason that may be
    assigned for the extraordinary fast of Phralaong is the
    satisfaction of showing to the world the display of wonderful
    action. Fasting and other works of mortification have always
    been much practised by the Indian philosophers of past ages, who
    thereby attracted the notice, respect, admiration, and
    veneration of the world. Such rigorous exercises, too, were
    deemed of great help for enabling the soul to have a more
    perfect control over the senses, and subjecting them to the
    empire of reason. They are also conducive towards the calm and
    undisturbed state in which the soul is better fitted for the
    arduous task of constant meditation. The fast of Gaudama,
    preparatory to his obtaining the Buddhaship, recalls to mind
    that which our Lord underwent ere He began His divine mission.
    If the writer, in the course of this work, has made once or
    twice a remark of similar import, he has done so, not with the
    intention of drawing a parallel as between facts, but to
    communicate to the reader the feelings of surprise and
    astonishment he experienced when he thought he met with
    circumstances respecting the founder of Buddhism which
    apparently bore great similarity to some connected with the
    mission of our Saviour.

    [8] Bells are common in Burmah, and the people of that country
    are well acquainted with the art of casting them. Most of the
    bells to be seen in the pagodas are of small dimensions, and
    differing in shape somewhat from those used in Europe. The
    inferior part is less widened, and there is a large hole in the
    centre of the upper part. No tongue is hung in the interior, but
    the sound is produced by striking with a horn of deer or elk the
    outward surface of the lower part. No belfry is erected for the
    bells; they are fixed on a piece of timber, laid horizontally,
    and supported at its two extremities by two posts, at such a
    height that the inferior part of the bell is raised about five
    feet above the ground.

    The largest specimens of Burmese art in casting bells of great
    weight are the two bells to be seen, the one in the large pagoda
    of Rangoon, called Shway Dagon, and the other at Mingon, about
    twelve or fifteen miles north of Amerapoura, on the western bank
    of the Irrawaddy. The first, in the town of Rangoon, was cast in
    1842, when King Tharawaddy visited the place, with the intention
    of founding a new city, more distant from the river, and nearer
    to the mount upon which rises the splendid Shway Dagon. In its
    shape and form it exactly resembles the kind of bells above
    described. Here are some particulars respecting that large piece
    of metal, collected from the inscription to be seen upon it. It
    was cast on the fifth day of the full moon of Tabodwai
    (February), 1203 of the Burmese era. The weight of metal is
    94,682 lbs.; its height 9-1/2 cubits; its diameter 5 cubits; its
    thickness 20 fingers or 15 inches. But during the process of
    melting, the well-disposed came forward and threw in copper,
    silver, and gold in great quantities. It is supposed, says the
    writer of the inscription, that in this way the weight was
    increased one-fourth.

    The bell of Mingon was cast in the beginning of this century. In
    shape and form it resembles our bells in Europe. It is probable
    that some foreigner residing at Ava suggested the idea of giving
    such an unusual form to that monumental bell. Its height is 18
    feet, besides 7 feet for hanging apparatus. It has 17 feet in
    diameter, and from 10 to 12 inches in thickness. Its weight is
    supposed to exceed two hundred thousand English pounds.

    In the interior large yellowish and greyish streaks indicate
    that considerable quantities of gold and silver had been thrown
    in during the process of melting. No idea can at present be had
    of the power of the sound of that bell, as its enormous weight
    has caused the pillars that support it partially to give way. To
    prevent a fatal disaster, the orifice of the bell has been made
    to rest on large short posts, sunk in the ground and rising
    about three feet above it. In no respect can these bells bear
    any comparison with those of Europe. They are mightily rough and
    rude attempts at doing works on a scale far surpassing the
    abilities of native workmen, who otherwise succeed tolerably
    well in casting the comparatively small bells commonly met with
    in the courtyards of pagodas.

    [9] One of the genuine characters of Buddhism is correctly
    exhibited in this observation of Phralaong's respecting fasts,
    mortifications, and other self-inflicted penances. They are not
    looked upon as the immediate way leading to perfection, nor as
    _a portion_ or a part of perfection itself. Such deeds are but
    means resorted to for weakening passions and increasing the
    power of the spiritual principle over the natural one: they are
    preparatory to the great work of meditation or the study of
    truth, which is the only high-road to perfection. To the sage
    that has already begun the laborious task of investigating
    truth, such practices are of no use, and are nowhere insisted on
    as necessary, or even useful. In the book of discipline, no
    mention is made of them. The life of the initiated is one of
    self-denial; all superfluities and luxuries are strictly
    interdicted; all that is calculated to minister to passions and
    pleasure is carefully excluded. But the great austerities and
    macerations practised by the religious of the Brahminical sect
    are at once rejected by the Buddhist sages as unprofitable and
    unnecessary to them. The inmates of the Buddhist monasteries in
    our days are never seen indulging in those cruel, disgusting,
    and unnatural practices performed from time immemorial by some
    of their brethren of the Hindu persuasion. This constitutes one
    of the principal differences or discrepancies between the two
    systems. With the founder of Buddhism fasts and penitential
    deeds are of great concern to him who is as yet in the world,
    living under the tyrannical yoke of passions and the influence
    of the senses. By him they are viewed as powerful auxiliaries in
    the spiritual warfare for obtaining the mastery over passions.
    This point once gained, the sage can at once dispense with their
    aid as being no longer required. The follower of the Hindu creed
    looks upon those practices as _per se_ eminently meritorious and
    capable of leading him to perfection; hence the mania for
    carrying those observances to a degree revolting to reason, and
    even to the plain good sense of the people.




CHAPTER V.

    _Thoodzata's offering to Phralaong -- His five dreams -- He
    shapes his course towards the gniaong tree -- Miraculous
    appearance of a throne -- Victory of Phralaong over Manh Nat --
    His meditations during forty-nine days near the Bodi tree --
    He at last obtains the perfect science -- He overcomes the
    temptation directed against him by the daughters of Manh --
    Buddha preaches the law to a Pounha and to two merchants._


At that time, in the solitude of Oorouwela, there lived in a village a
rich man, named Thena. He had a daughter named Thoodzata. Having
attained the years of puberty, she repaired to a place where there was a
gniaong tree, and made the following prayer to the Nat guardian of the
place[1]:--"If I marry a husband that will prove a suitable match, and
the first fruit of our union be a male child, I will spend annually in
alms deeds 100,000 pieces of silver, and make an offering at this spot."
Her prayer was heard, and its twofold object granted. When Phralaong
had ended the six years of his fasting and mortification, on the day of
the full moon of the month Katson, Thoodzata was preparing to make her
grateful offering to the Nat of the place. She had been keeping one
thousand cows in a place abounding with sweet vines; the milk of those
thousand was given to five hundred cows; these again fed with their own
milk two hundred and fifty others, and so on, in a diminishing
proportion, until it happened that sixteen cows fed eight others with
their milk. So these eight cows gave a milk, rich, sweet, and flavoured
beyond all description.

On the day of the full moon of Katson,[2] Thoodzata rose at an early
hour to make ready her offering, and disposed everything that the cows
should be simultaneously milked. When they were to be milked, the young
calves of their own accord kept at a distance; and as soon as the
vessels were brought near, the milk began to flow in streams from the
udders into the vessels. She took the milk and poured it into a large
caldron, set on the fire which she had herself kindled. The milk began
to boil; bubbles formed on the surface of the liquid, turned on the
right and sunk in, not a single drop being spilt out; no smoke arose
from the fireplace. Four kings of Nats watched about while the caldron
was boiling; the great Brahma kept open an umbrella over it; a Thagia
brought fuel and fed the fire. Other Nats, by their supernatural power,
infused honey into the milk, and communicated thereto a flavour, such as
the like is not to be found in the abode of men. On this occasion alone,
and on the day Phralaong entered the state of Neibban, the Nats infused
honey into his food. Wondering at the so many extraordinary signs which
she saw, Thoodzata called her female slave, named Sounama, related to
her all that she had observed, and directed her to go to the gniaong
tree, and clear the place where she intended to make her offering. The
servant, complying with her mistress' direction, soon arrived at the
foot of the tree.

On that very night Phralaong had had five dreams.[3] 1st, It appeared
to him that the earth was his sleeping place, with the Himawonta for his
pillow. His right hand rested on the western ocean, his left on the
eastern ocean, and his feet on the southern ocean. 2nd, A kind of grass,
named Tyria, appeared to grow out of his navel and reach to the skies.
3rd, Ants of a white appearance ascended from his feet to the knee and
covered his legs. 4th, Birds of varied colour and size appeared to come
from all directions and fall at his feet, when, on a sudden, they all
appeared white. 5th, It seemed to him that he was walking on a mountain
of filth, and that he passed over it without being in the least
contaminated.

Phralaong, awaking from his sleep, said to himself, after having
reflected for a while on those five dreams,--"Today I shall certainly
become a Buddha." Thereupon he rose instantly, washed his hands and
face, put on his dress, and quietly waited the break of day, to go out
in quest of his food. The moment being arrived to go out, he took up his
patta, and walked in the direction of the gniaong tree. The whole tree
was made shining by the rays which issued from his person; he rested
there for a while. At that very moment arrived Sounama, to clear,
according to her mistress' orders, the place for her offering. As she
approached, she saw Phralaong at the foot of the tree. The rays of light
which beamed out of his person were reflected on the tree, which
exhibited a most splendid and dazzling appearance. On observing this
wonder, Sounama said to herself: "Of course the Nat has come down from
the tree to receive the offering with his own hands." Overcome with an
unutterable joy, she immediately ran to her mistress and related her
adventure. Thoodzata was delighted at this occurrence, and wishing to
give a substantial proof of her gratitude for such good news, she said
to Sounama: "From this moment you are no more my servant; I adopt you
for my elder daughter." She gave her instantly all the ornaments
suitable to her new position. It is customary for all the Phralaongs to
be provided, on the day they are to become Buddha, with a gold cup of
an immense value. Thoodzata ordered a golden vessel to be brought, and
poured therein the nogana or boiled milk. As the water glides from the
leaf of the water-lily without leaving thereon any trace, so the nogana
slided from the pot into the golden cup and filled it up. She covered
this cup with another of the same precious metal, and wrapped up the
whole with a white cloth. She forthwith put on her finest dress, and,
becomingly attired, she carried the golden cup over her head; and with a
decent gravity walked towards the gniaong tree. Overwhelmed with joy at
seeing Phralaong, she reverentially advanced towards him, whom she
mistook for a Nat. When near him, she placed gently the golden vessel on
the ground, and offered him in a gold basin scented water to wash his
hands. At that moment, the earthen patta offered to Phralaong by the
Brahma Gatikara disappeared. Perceiving that his patta had disappeared,
he stretched forth his right hand, and washed it in the scented water;
at the same time Thoodzata presented to him the golden cup containing
the nogana. Having observed that she had caught the eyes of Phralaong,
she said to him: "My Lord Nat, I beg to offer you this food, together
with the vessel that contains it." Having respectfully bowed down to
him, she continued: "May your joy and happiness be as great as mine; may
you always delight in the happiest rest, ever surrounded by a great and
brilliant retinue." Making then the offering of the gold cup, worth
100,000 pieces of silver, with the same disinterestedness as if she had
given over only the dry leaf of a tree, she withdrew and returned to her
home with a heart overflowing with joy.

Phralaong rising up took with him the golden cup, and having turned to
the left of the gniaong tree, went to the bank of the river Neritzara,
to a place where more than 100,000 Buddhas had bathed, ere they obtained
the supreme intelligence. On the banks of that river is a bathing-place.
Having left on that spot his golden cup, he undressed himself, and
descended into the river. When he had bathed, he came out and put on his
yellow robe, which in shape and form resembled that of his predecessors.
He sat down, his face turned towards the east; his face resembled in
appearance a well-ripe palm-fruit. He divided his exquisite fruit into
forty-nine mouthfuls, which he ate entire, without mixing any water with
it. During forty-nine days he spent round the Bodi tree, Buddha never
bathed, nor took any food, nor experienced the least want. His
appearance and countenance remained unchanged; he spent the whole time
absorbed, as it were, in an uninterrupted meditation. Holding up in his
hands the empty golden vessel, Phralaong made the following prayer: "If
on this day I am to become a Buddha, let this cup float on the water and
ascend the stream." Whereupon he flung it into the stream, when, by the
power and influence of Phralaong's former good works, the vessel, gently
gliding towards the middle of the river, and then beating up the stream,
ascended it with the swiftness of a horse to the distance of eighty
cubits, when it stopped, sunk into a whirlpool, went down to the country
of Naga, and made a noise, on coming in contact with and striking
against the three vessels of the three last Buddhas, viz.: Kaukathan,
Gaunagong, and Kathaba. On hearing this unusual noise, the chief of
Nagas awoke from his sleep, and said: "How is this? yesterday, a Buddha
appeared in the world; today, again, there is another." And in more than
one hundred stanzas he sung praises to Buddha.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the banks of the river Neritzara there is a grove of Sala trees,
whither Phralaong repaired to spend the day under their cooling shade.
In the evening he rose up and walked with the dignified and noble
bearing of a lion, in a road eight oothabas wide, made by the Nats, and
strewed with flowers, towards the gniaong tree. The Nats, Nagas, and
Galongs joined in singing praises to him, playing instruments, and
making offerings of the finest flowers and most exquisite perfumes,
brought from their own seats. The same rejoicings took place in ten
thousand other worlds. Whilst on his way towards the tree, he met with a
young man, just returning with a grass-load he had cut in the fields.
Foreseeing that Phralaong might require some portion of it for his use,
he presented him an offering of eight handfuls of grass, which were
willingly accepted.

Arrived close to the gniaong tree,[4] Phralaong stopped at the south of
the tree, his face turned towards the north, when, on a sudden, the
southern point of the globe seemed to lower down to the hell Awidzi, the
lowest of all, whilst the northern one appeared to reach the sky. Then
he said, "Verily this is not the place where I shall become a Buddha."
Thence Phralaong went on his right side towards the east of the tree,
and standing up, his face turned towards the west, he said, "This is
indeed the place where all the preceding Buddhas have obtained the
supreme intelligence. Here, too, is the very spot whereupon I shall
become a Buddha, and set up my throne." He took, by one of their
extremities, the eight handfuls of grass and scattered them on the
ground, when, on a sudden, there appeared emerging, as it were, from the
bottom of the earth, a throne fourteen cubits high, adorned with the
choicest sculptures and paintings, superior in perfection to all that
art could produce. Phralaong, then facing the east, uttered the
following imprecation: "If I am not destined to become a Buddha, may my
bones, veins, and skin remain on this throne, and my blood and flesh be
dried up." He then ascended the throne, with his back turned against the
tree, and his face towards the east. He sat down in a cross-legged
position, firmly resolved never to vacate the throne, ere he had become
a Buddha. Such firmness of purpose, which the combined elements could
not shake for a moment, no one ought to think of ever becoming possessed
of.

Whilst Phralaong was sitting on the throne in that cross-legged
position, Manh Nat said to himself, "I will not suffer Prince Theiddat
to overstep the boundaries of my empire." He summoned all his warriors
and shouted to them. On hearing their chief's voice, the warriors
gathered thick round his person. His countless followers in front, on
his right and on his left, reached to the distance of eighteen
youdzanas, and above him to that of nine only. Behind him, they extended
to the very limits of the world. The cries of that immense multitude
were re-echoed at a distance of ten thousand youdzanas, and resembled
the roaring of the mighty sea. Manh Nat rode the elephant Girimegala,
measuring in length five youdzanas. Supplied with one thousand right
arms, he wielded all sorts of the most deadly weapons. His countless
warriors, to avoid confusion, were all disposed in ranks, bearing their
respective armour. They appeared like immense clouds, slowly rolling on
and converging towards Phralaong.

At that time, Nats surrounded Phralaong, singing praises to him; the
chief Thagia was playing on his conch, whereof a single blowing resounds
for four entire months; the chief Naga was uttering stanzas in his
honour; a chief Brahma held over him the white umbrella. On the approach
of Manh Nat's army, they were all seized with an uncontrollable fear,
and fled to their respective places. The Naga dived into the bottom of
the earth, to a depth of five hundred youdzanas, and covering his face
with his two wings, fell into a deep sleep. The Thagia, swinging his
conch upon his shoulders, ran to the extremity of the world. The Brahma,
holding still the umbrella by the extremity of the handle, went up to
his own country. Phralaong was, therefore, left alone. Manh Nat, turning
to his followers, cried to them, "There is, indeed, no one equal to the
Prince Theiddat; let us not attack him in front, but let us assail him
from the north side."

At that moment, Phralaong, lifting his eyes, looked on his right, left,
and front, for the crowd of Nats, Brahmas, and Thagias that were paying
him their respects. But they had all disappeared. He saw the army of
Manh Nat coming thick upon him from the north, like a mighty storm.
"What!" said he, "is it against me alone that such a countless crowd of
warriors has been assembled? I have no one to help me, no father, no
brothers, no sisters, no friends, and no relatives. But I have with me
the ten great virtues which I have practised; the merits I have acquired
in the practice of these virtues will be my safeguard and protection;
these are my offensive and defensive weapons, and with them I will crush
down the great army of Manh." Whereupon he quietly remained meditating
upon the merits of the ten great virtues.

Whilst Phralaong was thus absorbed in meditation, Manh Nat began his
attack upon him. He caused a wind to blow with such an extraordinary
violence that it brought down the tops of mountains, though they were
one or two youdzanas thick. The trees of the forests were shattered to
atoms. But the virtue of Phralaong's merits preserved him from the
destructive storm. His tsiwaran itself was not agitated. Perceiving that
his first effort was useless, Manh caused a heavy rain to fall with such
violence that it tore the earth, and opened it to its very bottom. But
not even a single drop touched Phralaong's person. To this succeeded a
shower of rocks, accompanied with smoke and fire; but they were changed
into immense masses of flowers, which dropped at Buddha's feet. There
came afterwards another shower of swords, knives, and all kinds of
cutting weapons, emitting smoke and fire. They all fell powerless at the
feet of Phralaong. A storm of burning ashes and sand soon darkened the
atmosphere, but they fell in front of him like fragrant dust. Clouds of
mud succeeded, which fell like perfumes all round and over Phralaong.
Manh caused a thick darkness to fill the atmosphere, but to Phralaong it
emitted rays of the purest light. The enraged Manh cried to his
followers, "Why do you stand looking on? Rush at once upon him and
compel him to flee before me." Sitting on his huge elephant, and
brandishing his formidable weapons, Manh approached close to Phralaong
and said to him, "Theiddat, this throne is not made for you; vacate it
forthwith; it is my property." Phralaong calmly answered, "You have not
as yet practised the ten great virtues, nor gone through the five acts
of self-denial; you have never devoted your life to help others to
acquire merits; in a word, you have not yet done all the needful to
enable you to attain the supreme dignity of Phra. This throne,
therefore, cannot be yours." Unable to control any longer his passion,
Manh threw his formidable weapons at Phralaong; but they were converted
into garlands of beautiful flowers, that adapted themselves gracefully
round his body. His sword and other weapons, that could cut at once
through the hardest rocks, were employed with no better success. The
soldiers of Manh, hoping that their united efforts would have a better
result, and that they could thrust Phralaong from his throne, made a
sudden and simultaneous rush at him, rolling against him, with an
irresistible force, huge rocks, as large as mountains; but by the virtue
of their opponent's merits, they were converted into fine nosegays, that
gently dropped at his feet.

At that time the Nats, from their seats, looked down on the scene of the
combat, suspended between hope and fear. Phralaong at that moment said
to Manh: "How do you dare to pretend to the possession of this throne?
Could you ever prove, by indisputable evidence, that you have ever made
offerings enough to be deserving of this throne?" Manh, turning to his
followers, answered: "Here are my witnesses; they will all bear evidence
in my favour." At the same moment they all shouted aloud, to testify
their approval of Mania's words. "As to you, Prince Theiddat, where are
the witnesses that will bear evidence in your favour and prove the
justness of your claim to the possession of this throne?" Phralaong
replied: "My witnesses are not like yours, men or any living beings.[5]
The earth itself will give testimony to me. For, without alluding even
to those offerings I have made during several previous existences, I
will but mention the forty-seven great ones I made whilst I lived as
Prince Wethandra." Stretching out his right hand, which he had kept
hitherto under the folds of his garments, and pointing to the earth, he
said with a firm voice: "Earth, is it not true that at the time I was
Prince Wethandra I made forty great offerings?" The earth replied with a
deep and loud roaring, resounding in the midst of Manh's legions, like
the sound of countless voices, threatening to spread death and
destruction in their ranks. The famous charger of Manh bent his knees,
and paid homage to Phralaong. Manh himself, disheartened and
discomfited, fled to the country of Wathawatti. His followers were so
overpowered by fear that they flung away all that could impede their
retreat, and ran away in every direction. Such was the confusion and
disorder that prevailed that two warriors could not be seen following
the same course in their flight.

Looking from their seats on the defeat of Manh and the glorious victory
of Phralaong, the Nats[6] rent the air with shouts of exultation. The
Brahmas, Nagas, and Galongs joined the Nats in celebrating his triumph
over his enemies. They all hastened from more than ten thousand worlds
to pay their respects and offer their felicitations, presenting him with
flowers and perfumes, saying: "Victory and glory to Phralaong! Shame and
defeat to the infamous Manh!"

It was a little while before sunset when Phralaong had achieved his
splendid victory over his proud foe. At that time he was wrapped up, as
it were, in the profoundest meditation. The extremities of the branches
of the Bodi tree[7] fell gently over him, and, by their undulations,
seemed caressing, as it were, his tsiwaran; they resembled so many
beautiful nosegays of red flowers that were offered to him. At the first
watch of the night Phralaong applied all the energies of his powerful
mind to ascertain the laws of the causes and effects, in order to
account for all that is in existence. He argued in the following manner:
"Pain and all sorts of miseries do exist in this world. Why do they
exist? Because there is birth. Why is there birth? Because there is
conception. Now conception does take place, because there is existence,
or that moral state produced by the action or influence of merits and
demerits. Existence is brought in by _Upadan_, or the combining of
affections calculated to cause the coming into existence. The latter has
for its cause the desire. The desire is produced by sensation. The
latter is caused by the contact. The contact takes place because there
are the six senses. The six senses do exist, because there is name and
form, that is to say, the exterior sign of the ideal being and the type
of the real being. Name and form owe their existence to erroneous
knowledge; the latter in its turn is produced by the imagination, which
has for its cause ignorance."[8]

Having followed in his mind the succession of the twelve causes and
effect, and reached the last link of that chain, Phralaong said to
himself: "Ignorance, or no science, is the first cause which gives rise
to all the phenomena I have successively reviewed. From it springs the
world and all the beings it contains. It is the cause of that universal
illusion in which man and all beings are miserably lulled. By what means
can this ignorance be done away with? Doubtless by knowledge and true
science. By means of the light that science spreads I clearly see the
unreality of all that exists, and I am freed from that illusion which
makes other beings to believe that such thing exists, when, in reality,
it does not exist. The imagination, or the faculty to imagine the
existence of things which do not exist, is done away with. The same fate
is reserved to the false knowledge resulting therefrom to the name and
form, to the six senses, to contact, to sensation, to desire, to
conception, to existence, to birth, and to pain or miseries."

       *       *       *       *       *

Then Phralaong says to himself: "The knowledge of the four great truths
is the true light that can dispel ignorance and procure the real
science, whereby the coming out from the whirlpool of existences, or
from the state of illusion, can be perfectly effected. These four truths
are: 1, The miseries of existence; 2, The cause productive of misery,
which is the desire, ever-renewed, of satisfying oneself without being
able ever to secure that end; 3, The destruction of that desire, or the
estranging oneself from it, is the important affair deserving the most
serious attention; 4, The means of obtaining the individual annihilation
of that desire is supplied solely by the four Meggas, or highways,
leading to perfection. But these Meggas can be followed only by those
who have a right intention, a right will, and who, throughout life,
exert themselves to regulate their action, conduct, language, thought,
and meditations." It was then that the heart of Phralaong acquired an
unshakable firmness, a perfect purity or exemption from all passions, an
unutterable meekness, and a strong feeling of tender compassion towards
all beings.

When these fundamental truths had been known, felt, and relished,[9]
Phralaong's mind, casting a glance over the past, was able to discover
at once all that had taken place during the countless states of his
former existences. He recollected the name he had borne, those of his
parents, the places he had seen and visited, the caste he had belonged
to, and all the chief events that had marked the course of his progress
through the continual migrations. He likewise saw reflected, as in a
mirror, the former conditions of existence of all other beings. The
immense development and expansion of his mind, which enabled him to
fathom the depth of the past, happened during the first watch of the
night.

He applied now all the expanded powers of his incomparable mind to take
a correct survey of all the beings now in existence. He glanced over all
those that were in hell, and the other three states of punishment, those
living on earth, and those dwelling in the twenty-six superior seats. He
at once understood distinctly their state, condition, merits, demerits,
and all that appertained to their physical and moral constitutive parts.
This labour occupied his mind up to midnight.

Urged by the merciful and compassionate dispositions of his soul,
Phralaong often revolved within himself the following: "All is misery
and affliction in this world; all beings are miserably detained in the
vortex of existences; they float over the whirlpool of desire and
concupiscence; they are carried to and fro by the fallacious cravings of
a never-obtained satisfaction. They must be taught to put an end to
concupiscence by freeing themselves from its influence. Their minds must
be imbued with the knowledge of the four great truths. The four ways
that I have discovered shall inevitably lead men and Nats to that most
desirable end. These ways ought to be pointed out to them, that, by
following them, men and Nats may obtain the deliverance."

Whilst these thoughts thronged through his mind, a little before break
of day, in the 103rd year of the Eatzana era, on the day of the full
moon of Katson, the perfect science broke at once over him: he became
the Buddha.

When this great wonder took place, ten thousand worlds were shaken
twelve times with such a violence as to make hairs stand on one end.
These words, "Most excellent being," were heard throughout the same
series of worlds. Magnificent ornaments decorated all places. Flagstaffs
appeared in every direction, adorned with splendid streamers. Of such
dimensions were they that the extremities of those in the east reached
the opposite side of the west; and those in the north, the southern
boundary. Some flags, hanging from the seats of Brahmas, reached the
surface of the earth. All the trees of ten thousand worlds shot out
branches, loaded with fruits and flowers. The five sorts of lilies
bloomed spontaneously. From the clefts of rocks beautiful flowers sprang
out. The whole universe appeared like an immense garden, covered with
flowers; a vivid light illuminated those places, the darkness of which
could not be dispersed by the united rays of seven suns. The water,
which fills the immensity of the deep, at a depth of eighty-four
thousand youdzanas, became fresh and offered a most agreeable drink.
Rivers suspended their course; the blind recovered their sight, the deaf
could hear, and the lame were able to walk freely. The captives were
freed from their chains and restored to their liberty. Innumerable other
wonders took place at the moment Phralaong received the supreme
intelligence. He said then to himself, "Previous to my obtaining the
supreme knowledge, I have, during countless generations, moved in the
circle of ever-renewed existences, and borne-up misery. Now I see this
distinctly. Again, I perceive how I can emancipate myself from the
trammels of existence, and extricate myself from all miseries and
wretchedness attending generation; my will is fixed on the most amiable
state of Neibban. I have now arrived to that state of perfection that
excludes all passions."

It was at the full moon of the month Katson, when these memorable
occurrences took place, and it was daylight when Phralaong at last
obtained the fulness of the Buddhaship. After this glorious and
triumphant achievement, Phralaong, whom from this moment we must call
Phra or Buddha, continued to remain on the throne, in a cross-legged
position, with a mind absorbed in contemplation during seven days.
Mental exertion and labour were at an end. Truth in its effulgent beauty
encompassed his mind and shed over it the purest rays. Placed in that
luminous centre, Phra saw all beings entangled in the web of passions,
tossed over the raging billows of the sea of renewed existences,
whirling in the vortex of endless miseries, tormented incessantly and
wounded to the quick by the sting of concupiscence, sunk into the dark
abyss of ignorance, the wretched victims of an illusory, unsubstantial,
and unreal world. He said then to himself: "In all the worlds there is
no one but me who knows how to break through the web of passions, to
still the waves that waft beings from one state into another, to save
them from the whirlpool of miseries, to put an end to concupiscence and
break its sting, to dispel the mist of ignorance by the light of truth,
to teach all intelligent beings the unreality and nonexistence of this
world, and thereby lead them to the true state of Neibban." Having thus
given vent to the feelings of compassion that pressed on his benevolent
heart, Phra, glancing over future events, delighted in contemplating the
great number of beings who would avail themselves of his preachings, and
labour to free themselves from the slavery of passions. He counted the
multitudes who would enter the ways that lead to the deliverance, and
would obtain the rewards to be enjoyed by those who will follow one of
those ways. The Baranathee country would be favoured first of all with
the preaching of the law of the wheel. He reviewed the countries where
his religion would be firmly established. He saw that Maheinda, the son
of king Asoka, would carry his law to Ceylon, two hundred and thirty-six
years after his Neibban.

When these and other subjects were fully exhausted, the most excellent
Phra came down from his throne and went to a distance of ten fathoms
from the Bodi tree, in a north-east direction. There he stood, his eyes
fixedly riveted on the throne, without a single wink, during seven
consecutive days, given up to the most intense and undisturbed
meditation. The Nats, observing this extraordinary posture, imagined
that he regretted the throne he had just vacated, and that he wanted to
repossess himself of it. They concluded that, such being the case,
Prince Theiddat had not as yet obtained the Buddhaship. When the period
of seven days was over, Buddha, who knew the innermost thoughts of the
Nats, resolved to put an end to their incredulous thinking respecting
his person. For that purpose, he had recourse to the display of
miraculous powers.[10] He raised himself high up in the air, and, to
their astonished regards, he wrought at once more than a thousand
wonders, which had the immediate effect of silencing all their doubts,
and convincing them that he was indeed the Buddha.

Having come down to the place which he had started from, for the display
of prodigies, Buddha went to the north of the tree Bodi at a distance of
only two fathoms from it. He spent this time in walking to and fro from
east to west, during seven days, over a road, prepared for that purpose
by the Nats. He was engaged all the while in the work of the sublimest
contemplation.

He then shaped his course in a north-west direction, at a distance of
thirteen fathoms from the sacred tree. There stood a beautiful house,
shining like gold, resplendent with precious stones. It was a temporary
residence, purposely prepared for him by the Nats. Thither he repaired,
and sat down in a cross-legged position during seven days. He devoted
all his time to meditating on the Abidamma, or the most excellent
science. This science is divided into seven books. Phra had already gone
over the six first and fully mastered their contents, but the six
glories had not as yet shot forth from his person.

It was only after having mastered the contents of the last division,
named Pathan, divided into twenty-four parts, that the six glories
appeared. Like the great fishes that delight to sport only in the great
ocean, the mind of Buddha expanded itself with indescribable eagerness,
and delighted to run unrestrained through the unbounded field opened
before him by the contents of that volume. Brown rays issued from his
hairs, beard, and eyelids. Gold-like rays shot forth from his eyes and
skin; from his flesh and blood dashed out purple beams, and from his
teeth and bones escaped rays, white like the leaves of the lily; from
his hands and feet emanated rays of a deep-red colour, which, falling on
the surrounding objects, made them appear like so many rubies of the
purest water. His forehead sent forth undulating rays, resembling those
reflected by cut crystal. The objects which received those rays appeared
as mirrors, reflecting the rays of the sun. Those six rays of various
hues caused the earth to resemble a globe of the finest gold. Those
beams at first penetrated through our globe, which is eighty-two
thousand youdzanas thick, and thence illuminated the mass of water which
supports our planet. It resembled a sea of gold. That body of water,
though four hundred and eighty thousand youdzanas thick, could not stop
the elastic projection of those rays, which went forth through a stratum
of air nine hundred and sixty thousand youdzanas thick, and were lost in
the vacuum. Some beams, following a vertical direction, rushed through
the six seats of Nats, the sixteen of Brahmas, and the four superior
ones, and thence were lost in vacuum. Other rays, following a horizontal
direction, penetrated through an infinite series of worlds. The sun, the
moon, the stars appeared like opaque bodies, deprived of light. The
famous garden of Nats, their splendid palace, the ornaments hanging from
the tree Padetha were all cast into the shade and appeared obscure, as
if wrapped up in complete darkness. The body of the chief Brahma, which
sends forth light through one million of systems, emitted then but the
feeble and uncertain light of the glowworm at sunrise. This marvellous
light, emanating from the person of Buddha, was not the result of vowing
or praying; but all the constituent parts of his body became purified to
such an extent by the sublime meditation of the most excellent law that
they shone with a matchless brightness.

Having thus spent seven days in that place, close to the Bodi tree, he
repaired to the foot of another gniaong tree, called adzapala, or the
shepherds' tree, so called because, under its cooling shade, shepherds
and their flocks of goats rested during the heat of the day. It was
situated at the east of the Bodi, at a distance of thirty fathoms. There
he sat in a cross-legged position, during seven days, enjoying the
sweetness of self-recollection. It was near to that place that the vile
Manh, who, since his great attack on Buddha, had never lost sight of
him, but had always secretly followed him with a wicked spirit, was
compelled to confess that he had not been able to discover in that Rahan
anything blamable, and expressed the fear of seeing him at once pass
over the boundaries of his empire. The tempter stooped in the middle of
the highway, and across it drew successively sixteen lines, as he went
on reflecting on sixteen different subjects. When he had thought over
each of the ten great virtues, he drew, first, ten lines, saying: "The
great Rahan has indeed practised to a high degree those ten virtues. I
cannot presume to compare myself to him." In drawing the eleventh, he
confessed that he had not, like that Rahan, the science that enabled to
know the inclinations and dispositions of all beings. In drawing the
twelfth, he said that he had not as yet acquired the knowledge of all
that concerns the nature of the various beings. Drawing the four
remaining lines, he confessed successively that he did not feel, like
that Rahan, a tender compassion for the beings yet entangled in the
miseries of existence, nor could he perform miracles, nor perceive
everything, nor attain to the perfect and supreme knowledge of the law.
On all these subjects he avowed his decided inferiority to the great
Rahan.

Whilst Manh was thus engaged with a sad heart in meditating over those
rather humiliating points, he was at last found out by his three
daughters, Tahna,[11] Aratee, and Raga, who had for some time been
looking after him. When they saw their father with a downcast
countenance, they came to him, and inquired about the motive of his deep
affliction. "Beloved daughters," replied Manh, "I see this Rahan
escaping from my dominion, and notwithstanding my searching examination,
I have not been able to detect him in anything reprehensible. This is
the only cause of my inexpressible affliction." "Dear father," replied
they, "banish all sorrows from your mind, and be of a good heart; we
will very soon find out the weak side of the great Rahan, and
triumphantly bring him back within the hitherto unpassed limits of your
empire." "Beware of the man you will have to deal with," replied Manh.
"I believe that no effort, however great, directed against him, will
ever be rewarded with success. He is of a firm mind and unshaken
purpose. I fear you shall never succeed in bringing him back within my
dominions." "Dear father," said they, "we women know how to manage such
affairs; we will catch him like a bird in the net of concupiscence; let
fear and anxiety be for ever dispelled from your heart." Having given
this assurance, forthwith they went to Buddha, and said to him,
"Illustrious Rahan, we approach you respectfully and express the wish of
staying with you, that we may minister to all your wants." Without in
the least heeding their words, or even casting a glance at them, the
most excellent Buddha remained unmoved, enjoying the happiness of
meditation. Knowing that the same appearance, face, and bodily
accomplishments might not be equally pleasing, they assumed, one the
appearance of a heart-winning young girl, another that of a blooming
virgin, and the third that of a fine middle-aged beauty. Having thus
made their arrangements, they approached Buddha, and several times
expressed to him the desire of staying with him and ministering to his
wants. Unmoved by all their allurements, Buddha said to them, "For what
purpose do you come to me? You might have some chance of success with
those that have not as yet extinguished the fire of passion, and rooted
it from their heart; but I, like all the Buddhas, my predecessors, have
destroyed in me concupiscence, passion, and ignorance. No effort, on
your part, will ever be able to bring me back into the world of
passions. I am free from all passions, and have obtained supreme wisdom.
By what possible means could you ever succeed in bringing me back into
the whirlpool of passions?" The three daughters of Manh, covered with
confusion, yet overawed with admiration and astonishment, said to each
other, "Our father forsooth had given us a good and wise warning. This
great Rahan deserves the praises of men and Nats. Everything in him is
perfect; to him it belongs to instruct men in all things they want to
know." Saying this, they, with a downcast countenance, returned to their
father.

It was in that very same place, at the foot of the adzapala gniaong,
that a heretic Pounha, named Mingalika, proud of his caste, came with
hasty steps, speaking loudly, and with little respect approached the
spot where Buddha was sitting.[12] Having entered into conversation with
him, the Pounha heard from his mouth instructions worthy of being ever
remembered. He said to Buddha, "Lord Gaudama, I have two questions to
put to you. Whence comes the name Pounha? What are the duties to be
performed in order to become a real Pounha?" Buddha, penetrating with
the keen eye of wisdom into the innermost soul of his interlocutor,
answered, "The real and genuine Pounha is he who has renounced all
passions, put an end to concupiscence, and has entered the ways leading
to perfection. But there are others, who are proud of their origin, who
walk hastily, speak with a loud voice, and who have not done what is
needful to destroy the influence of passions. These are called Pounhas
because of their caste and birth. But the true sage avoids everything
that is rash, impetuous or noisy: he has conquered all his passions, and
put an end to the principle of demerits. His heart loves the repetition
of formulas of prayers, and delights in the exercise of meditation. He
has reached the last way to perfection. In him there is no longer
wavering, or doubt, or pride. This man really deserves the name of
Pounha, or pure: he is indeed the true Pounha according to the law." The
instruction being finished, the Pounha rose respectfully from his place,
wheeled to the right and departed.

Buddha continued the sublime work of contemplating pure truth through
the means of intense reflection. Having remained seven days in that
position, Buddha arose in an ecstasy and went to the south-eastern side
of the Bodi tree, to a distance of an oothaba (1 oothaba=to 20 tas, 1
ta=to 7 cubits), on the sixth day after the full moon of Nayon. On that
spot there was a tank called Hidza-lee-dana. On the bank of that tank,
he sat under the shade of the Kiin tree, in a cross-legged position
during seven days, enjoying the delight of meditation. During those
seven days rain fell in abundance, and it was very cold. A Naga, chief
of that tank, would have made a building to protect Buddha against the
inclemency of the weather, but he preferred, in order to gain greater
merits, to coil himself up sevenfold round his person, and to place his
head above him, with his large hood extended. When the seven days were
over and the rain had ceased, the Naga quitted his position; then
assuming the appearance of a young man, he prostrated himself before
Buddha and worshipped him. Buddha said: "He who aims at obtaining the
state of Neibban ought to possess the knowledge of the four roads
leading thereto, as well as that of the four great truths and of all
laws. He ought to bear no anger towards other men, nor harm them in any
way soever. Happy he who receives such instructions."

Buddha moved from that place, and went to the south of the Bodi tree, to
a distance of forty fathoms. At the foot of the linloon tree he sat in a
cross-legged position, having his mind deeply engaged in the exercise of
the sublimest contemplation. In that position he spent seven entire
days, which completed the forty-nine days which were to be devoted to
reflection and meditation around the Bodi tree. When this period of days
was over, at daybreak, on the fifth day after the full moon of Watso, he
felt the want of food. This was quickly perceived by a Thagia, who
hastened from his seat to the spot where Buddha was staying, and offered
him some Thit khia fruits, others say Kia-dzoo fruits, to prepare his
system to receive more substantial food. After he had eaten them, the
same celestial attendant brought him some water to rinse his mouth, and
to wash his face and hands. Buddha continued to remain in the same
position under the cooling and protecting shade of the linloon tree.

To consecrate, as it were, and perpetuate the remembrance of the seven
spots occupied by Buddha during the forty-nine days that he spent round
the tree Bodi, a Dzedy was erected on each of those seven places. King
Pathenadi Kosala surrounded them with a double wall, and subsequently
King Dammathoka added two others. There were only three openings, or
gates, to penetrate into the enclosed ground, one on the north, another
on the east, and the third on the south. The river Neritzara rolls its
deep blue waters in a south-eastern direction from the Bodi tree, to a
distance of eight oothabas from it. On the eastern bank of that stream
another Dzedy has been erected on the spot where, previous to his
becoming a Buddha, he had eaten the forty-nine mouthfuls of the
delicious Nogana offered to him by the pious Thoodzata.

Whilst Buddha was sitting in a cross-legged position under the linloon
tree, two brothers named Tapoosa and Palekat, merchants by profession,
arrived with five hundred carts in the Oorouwela forest, at the very
place where Buddha was staying. They had sailed from their native town,
called[13] Oukkalaba, which lies in a south-eastern direction from the
Mitzima country, bound for the port of Adzeitta. After landing, they
hired five hundred carts to carry their goods to a place called Soowama.
They were on their way to their destination when they arrived in the
Oorouwela forest. Great was their surprise when they saw on a sudden all
their carts unable to move, and arrested by some invisible power.

A Nat who had been formerly their relative stopped by his power the
wheels of the carriages. Surprised at such a wonder, the merchants
prayed to the Nat who was guardian of that place. The Nat, assuming a
visible shape, appeared before them and said to them: "The illustrious
Buddha who by the knowledge of the four great truths has arrived to the
nature of Phra, is now sitting at the foot of the linloon tree. Go now
to that place, and offer him some sweet bread and honey; you shall
derive therefrom great merits for many days and nights to come." The two
brothers, joyfully complying with the Nat's request, prepared the sweet
bread and honey, and hastened in the direction that had been indicated
to them. Having placed themselves in a suitable position and prostrated
themselves before Buddha, they said: "Most glorious Phra, please to
accept these offerings; great merits doubtless will be our reward for
many days to come." Buddha had no patta to put those offerings in, for
the one he had received from the Brahma Gatigara had disappeared when
Thoodzata made him her great offerings. Whilst he was thinking on what
he had to do, four Nats came and presented him each with one patta, made
of nila or sapphire stone. Phra accepted the four pattas, not from
motives of covetousness, but to let each Nat have an equal share in such
meritorious work. He put the four pattas one in the other, and by the
power of his will they on a sudden became but one patta, so that each
Nat lost nothing of the merit of his offerings. Buddha received the
offerings of the two merchants in that patta, and satisfied his
appetite. The two brothers said to Buddha: "We have on this day
approached you, worshipped you, and respectfully listened to your
instructions; please to consider us as your devoted followers for the
remainder of our lives."[14] They obtained the position of Upathaka.
They continued addressing Buddha, and said: "What shall we henceforth
worship?" Buddha, rubbing his hand over his head, gave them a few of the
hairs that had adhered to his fingers, bidding them to keep carefully
those relics. The two brothers, overjoyed at such a valuable present,
most respectfully received it, prostrated themselves before Buddha, and
departed.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] The Nats or Dewatas play a conspicuous part in the affairs
    of this world. Their seats are in the six lower heavens,
    forming, with the abode of man and the four states of
    punishment, the eleven seats of passions. But they often quit
    their respective places, and interfere with the chief events
    that take place among men. Hence we see them ever attentive in
    ministering to all the wants of the future Buddha. Besides, they
    are made to watch over trees, forests, villages, towns, cities,
    fountains, rivers, &c. These are the good and benevolent Nats.
    This world is also supposed to be peopled with wicked Nats,
    whose nature is ever prone to the evil. A good deal of the
    worship of Buddhists consists in superstitious ceremonies and
    offerings made for propitiating the wicked Nats, and obtaining
    favours and temporal advantages from the good ones. Such a
    worship is universal, and fully countenanced by the talapoins,
    though in opposition to the real doctrines of genuine Buddhism.
    All kinds of misfortunes are attributed to the malignant
    interference of the evil Nats. In cases of severe illness that
    have resisted the skill of native medical art, the physician
    gravely tells the patient and his relatives that it is useless
    to have recourse any longer to medicines, but a conjuror must be
    sent for to drive out the malignant spirit, who is the author of
    the complaint. Meanwhile directions are given for the erection
    of a shed, where offerings intended for the inimical Nat are
    deposited. A female relative of the patient begins dancing to
    the sound of musical instruments. The dance goes on, at first in
    rather a quiet manner, but it gradually grows more animated
    until it reaches the acme of animal frenzy. At that moment the
    bodily strength of the dancing lady becomes exhausted; she drops
    on the ground in a state of apparent faintness. She is then
    approached by the conjuror, who asks her if the invisible foe
    has relinquished his hold over the diseased. Being answered in
    the affirmative, he bids the physician give medicines to the
    patient, assuring him that his remedies will now act
    beneficially for restoring the health of the sick, since their
    action will meet no further opposition from the wicked Nat.

    Ignorance brings everywhere superstition in its train. When man
    is unacquainted with the natural cause that has produced a
    result, or an effect, which attracts powerfully his mind's
    attention and affects him to a great degree, he is induced by
    his own weakness to believe in the agency of some unknown being,
    to account for the effect that he perceives. He devises the most
    ridiculous means for expressing his gratitude to his invisible
    benefactor, if the result be a favourable one; and has recourse
    to the most extravagant measures to counteract the evil
    influence of his supposed enemy, if the result be fatal to him.
    Having once entered into the dark way of superstition, man is
    hurried on in countless false directions by fear, hope, and
    other passions, in the midst of the daily occurrence of
    multifarious and unforeseen events and circumstances. Hence the
    expression or manifestation of his superstition assumes a
    variety of forms, and undergoes changes to an extent that
    baffles every attempt at either counting their numberless kinds
    or following them up through their ever-changing course. In
    addition to the stores of superstitions bequeathed by the
    generation that has preceded him, man has those of his own
    creation; and the latter, if the thought of his mind and the
    desires of his heart could be analysed, would be found far
    exceeding the former in number. Having spent many years in a
    country where Buddhism has prevailed from time immemorial, and
    observed the effects of superstition over the people in their
    daily doings, the writer has come to the conclusion that there
    is scarcely an action done without the influence of some
    superstitious motive or consideration. But the most prolific
    source of superstition is the belief in the existence of
    countless good and evil Nats, with whom the imagination of
    Buddhists has peopled this world.

    It can scarcely be understood how the followers of an
    atheistical creed can make, consistently with their opinions, an
    attempt at prayer. Such an act of devotion implies the belief in
    a being superior to men, who has a controlling power over them,
    and in whose hands their destinies are placed. With a believer
    in God, prayer is a sacred, nay, a natural duty. But such cannot
    be the case with atheists. Despite the withering and despairing
    influence of atheism, nothing can possibly obliterate from the
    conscience and heart of man that inward faith in a supreme
    being. The pious Thoodzata has in view the attainment of two
    objects: she prays, without knowing to whom, that by the agency
    of some one she might obtain the objects of her petition; she is
    anxious to show her gratitude when she sees that her prayer has
    been heard. Her faith in the _quasi_ omnipotence of the genii
    makes her address thanks to them. The Nat is not the person to
    whom her prayer appears directed, but he is rather a witness of
    her petition. The Burmese, in general, under difficult
    circumstances, unforeseen difficulties, and sudden calamities,
    use always the cry, _Phra kaiba_--God assist me--to obtain from
    above assistance and protection. Yet that Phra cannot be their
    Buddha, though he be in their opinion the Phra _par excellence_,
    since they openly declare that he in no way interferes in the
    management of this world's affairs. Whence that involuntary cry
    for assistance, but from the innate consciousness that above man
    there is some one ruling over his destinies? An atheistical
    system may be elaborated in a school of metaphysics, and forced
    upon ignorant and unreflecting masses, but practice will ever
    belie theory. Man, in spite of his errors and follies, is
    naturally a believing being; his own weakness and multiplied
    wants ever compel him to have recourse to some great being that
    can help and assist him, and supply, to a certain extent, the
    deficiency which, in spite of himself, he is compelled to
    acknowledge existing in him as a stern and humiliating reality.

    [2] The Burmese, like all trans-Gangetic nations, divide the
    year into twelve lunar months of twenty-nine and thirty days
    alternately. Every third year they add one month, or as they
    say, double the month of Watso (July). The year begins on, or
    about, the 12th of April. The days of worship are the days of
    the four quarters of the moon; but the days of the new and full
    moon seem to have preference over those of the two other
    quarters, which latter are scarcely noticed or distinguished
    from common days. It was on the day of the full moon of April
    that Thoodzata made her grand offering.

    [3] The Burmese translator, not having given in his remarks the
    explanation or interpretation of Phralaong's five dreams, it
    seems rather presumptuous to attempt doing a thing, the neglect
    of which, on the part of the author, may be attributed either to
    voluntary omission or to incapacity and inability. Let us try to
    make up, in part, for the deficiency. The first dream
    prognosticated the future greatness of Phralaong, whose sway, by
    the diffusion of his doctrines throughout the world, was to be
    universal, extending from one sea to the other sea. The grass
    growing out of his navel and reaching to the sky was indicative
    of the spreading of his law, not only amongst the beings
    inhabiting the seat of men, but also amidst those dwelling in
    the abodes of Nats and Brahmas. The ants covering his legs offer
    an enigma, the explanation of which is reserved to some future
    Oedipus. As to the birds of various colours, gathering round
    him, from the four points of the compass, and on a sudden
    becoming all white, by their contact with him, they represent
    the innumerable beings that will come to hear the preaching of
    the future Buddha with divers dispositions, and different
    progress in the way of merits, and will all be perfected by
    their following the true way to merit, that he will point out to
    them. The fifth dream in which Phralaong thought he was walking
    on a mountain of filth, without being in the least contaminated
    by it, foreshowed the incomparable perfection and purity of
    Buddha, who, though remaining in the world of passions, was no
    more to be affected by their influence.

    [4] We have now reached the most interesting episode of
    Phralaong's life. He is to become a perfected Buddha under the
    shade of the gniaong or banyan tree (_ficus indica_, _ficus
    religiosa_). There are two circumstances attending that great
    event, deserving peculiar notice. The first is the preference
    given to the east over the three other points of the compass,
    and the second, the mighty combat that takes place between
    Phralaong and the wicked Nat Manh, or Mar. I notice the first
    circumstance because it agrees with the tradition prevailing
    amongst most nations previous to or about the coming of our
    Lord, that from the east there was to come an extraordinary
    personage, who would confer on the human race the greatest
    benefits, and cause the return of happy times, like the golden
    age so much celebrated by poets. The Roman historian Suetonius
    bears testimony to the existence of that tradition as being
    universally known in his own days. It is not impossible that the
    same notion, not unknown in the far east, might have induced
    Phralaong to look towards the east at the supreme moment when
    perfect intelligence was to become his happy lot. It may be said
    in opposition to this supposition, that the splendour and
    magnificence of the sun, emerging from the bosom of night, and
    dispelling darkness by pouring a flood of light on the face of
    the earth, restoring nature to life and action, was a sufficient
    inducement to Phralaong for giving preference to the east. But
    to an ascetic like him, who is convinced that this world is a
    mere illusion, such a consideration would weigh very little on
    his mind, and would not be a sufficient motive to induce him to
    give so marked a preference to the east.

    The second circumstance remarkable for the time it occurred, is
    the great combat between Phralaong and Manh. The first is the
    personification of goodness and benevolence towards all beings;
    the second is the personification of consummate wickedness. The
    contest is to take place between the good principle on the one
    hand, and the evil one on the other. Phralaong, on his becoming
    Buddha, will preach a law designed to dispel mental darkness, to
    check vicious passions, to show the right way to perfection, to
    unloose the ties that keep beings in the wretched state of
    existence, and enable them to reach safely the peaceful shores
    of Neibban. Manh, the devil himself, the father of darkness, of
    lies and deceit, delights in seeing all beings plunged into the
    abyss of vices, carried out of the right way by the impetuous
    and irresistible torrent of their passions, and doomed to turn
    for ever in the whirlpool of endless existences. He looks upon
    himself as the king of this world, and proudly exults in
    contemplating all beings bending their neck under his tyrannical
    yoke, and acknowledging his undisputed power. Now the moment
    approaches when a mighty antagonist will contend with him for
    the empire of the world. His mission will be to labour
    incessantly for the delivery of all beings from the grasp of
    their mortal enemy, and set them free from the tyranny of
    passions. Manh is enraged at the audacious pretensions of
    Phralaong. Hence the gigantic efforts he makes to maintain his
    rights, and retain possession of his empire. At the time
    Phralaong left the world to become a Rahan, Manh endeavoured to
    dissuade him from attempting such a design. But on this
    occasion, the tempter summons all his forces to avert, by an
    irresistible attack, the deadly blow soon to be levelled at him.
    It is needless to add that the reader, in perusing the detailed
    account of the attack of Manh against Phralaong, ought to bear
    in mind that it exhibits throughout but an allegory of the
    opposition of evil to good. The victory of Phralaong over Manh
    exemplifies the final triumph of truth over error.

    When the contest was nearly over, Phralaong objected to the
    claims of Manh to the possession of his throne, on the ground
    that he never had practised the ten great virtues, nor performed
    works of kindness, charity, and benevolence, which alone can
    entitle a being to obtain the Buddhaship. It is to be borne in
    mind that these qualifications form the real characteristics of
    a Buddha, together with the possession of the supreme
    intelligence. In this system, they admit that there exist
    certain beings called Pitzega-Buddhas, who possess all the
    knowledge and science of a genuine Buddha, but as they are
    divested of those benevolent feelings which induce the former to
    labour earnestly for the benefit and salvation of all beings,
    they cannot be assimilated to the real Buddhas. The cross-legged
    position which our Buddha has always taken in preference to any
    other, whilst he spent forty-nine days at the foot of and in
    various places round the Bodi tree, is, as every one knows,
    peculiar to and a favourite with all Asiatics. But with him, it
    is the fittest position for meditation and contemplation. Hence
    most of the statues or images of Gaudama exhibit or represent
    him in the cross-legged position which he occupied when he
    attained the Buddhaship. As this event is by far the most
    important of his life, it is but natural that this great
    occurrence should ever be forced upon the attention and memory
    of his followers, by objects representing him on that most
    important stage of his last existence. It is not unusual to meet
    with statues of Gaudama, sometimes of colossal dimensions,
    representing him in a reclining position. This is the peculiar
    situation he occupied when he died. Hence those two most common
    images of Gaudama are designed to remind his followers of the
    two greatest circumstances of his life, viz., his becoming
    Buddha, and his entering the state of Neibban.

    Here again one is forcibly compelled to reflect on the singular
    _rôle_ attributed to those Pitzega-Buddhas. They possess all the
    science of a Buddha, but are deficient in that kindness,
    benevolence, and zeal which prompt the real Buddhas to labour so
    strenuously for the deliverance of all beings. They appear only
    in those ages of darkness and ignorance which are not to be
    brightened and enlightened by the presence of a Buddha. They are
    like smaller luminaries, shedding a pale light among men to
    prevent their sinking into an unfathomable abyss of ignorance;
    they maintain on earth some sparks of the knowledge of
    fundamental truths, which otherwise would be completely
    obliterated from the memory of men. Not unlike the prophets of
    old, they prepare men in an indirect manner for the coming of
    the future deliverer. Their mission being at an end, when a
    Buddha is to come among men, they disappear, and none of them is
    to be seen either in the days of Buddha or during all the time
    his religion is to last.

    [5] The witness whom Phralaong summoned in support of his claim
    to the undisturbed possession of the throne was the earth
    itself. It maybe from the example that was set on this occasion
    that Buddhists have borrowed the habit of calling the earth as a
    witness of the good works they have done or are doing. I will
    briefly relate what is done and said on such occasions. During
    my former residence in Burmah I observed on a certain occasion,
    when taking my evening walk, about ten or twelve persons of both
    sexes assembled on a rather retired spot in the vicinity of a
    pagoda. As they appeared all quite attentive, I came near to
    them to see what was the cause that had brought them thither,
    and what occurrence seemed to rivet their attention. As I was
    known to some of them, they were not frightened by my sudden
    apparition. On my asking them the motive of their assembling
    here at a late hour, they said that, having buried yesterday a
    child two years old, they came to make some offerings of boiled
    rice, plantains, and other fruits, to propitiate the Nat of the
    place. Having asked them to repeat the formula they had uttered
    on the occasion, they kindly complied with my request. Here is
    the substance of that formula. "Believing in the three precious
    things, Buddha, the Law, and the Assembly of the perfect, I make
    this offering, that I may be delivered from all present and
    future miseries. May all beings existing in the four states of
    punishment reach the fortunate seats of Nats. I wish all my
    relatives and all men inhabiting this and other worlds to have a
    share in this meritorious work. O earth and you Nats, guardians
    of this place, be witness to the offering I am making." On
    uttering these last words, the offerer of the present, or a
    talapoin, sent for this purpose, pours down some water on the
    ground.

    [6] As the Nats and all other beings are to be benefited by the
    preachings of Buddha, it is but natural that they all join in
    singing his praises and exalting his glorious achievements. The
    Nagas and Galongs are fabulous animals, which are often
    mentioned in the course of this Legend. It has been observed in
    a former note that, according to the Buddhistic notions, animals
    are beings in a state of punishment, differing from man, not in
    nature, but in merits. Some of them, having nearly exhausted the
    sum of their demerits, begin to feel the influence of former
    merits. They are supposed to have, to a certain extent, the use
    of reason. No wonder if they rejoice at seeing the triumph of
    him who is to help them in advancing towards a condition better
    than their present one.

    [7] The banyan tree, at the foot of which Phralaong obtains
    perfect intelligence, is occasionally called throughout this
    narrative the Bodi tree. The word Bodi means wisdom, science, or
    knowledge. The Burmese, in their sacred writings, always mention
    the tree by that name, because, under its shade, perfect science
    was communicated to Phralaong. It is supposed to occupy the very
    centre of the island of Dzampudiba. During all the while Phra or
    Buddha (let us call him now by that name) remained under that
    tree his mind was engaged in the most profound meditation, which
    the gigantic efforts of his enemy could scarcely interrupt. It
    is not to be inferred from the narrative in the text that
    supreme intelligence was communicated suddenly or by miraculous
    process to our Buddha. He was already prepared, by former mental
    labours, for that grand result; he had previously capacitated
    himself, by studies and reflection, for the reception of that
    more than human science; he required but a last and mighty
    effort of his intelligence to arrive finally at the acme of
    knowledge, and thereby to become a perfect Buddha. That last
    effort was made on this occasion, and crowned with the most
    complete success. He gained the science of the past, present,
    and future.

    It would be somewhat curious to investigate the motives that
    have determined Buddhists to give to that sacred tree the name
    of Bodi. At first sight one will infer that such a name was
    given to the tree because, under its refreshing and cooling
    shade the Bodi, or Supreme intelligence, was communicated to
    Phralaong. The occurrence, however extraordinary it be, is
    scarcely sufficient to account for such an appellation. Bearing
    in mind the numerous and striking instances of certain revealed
    facts and truths, offered to the attention of the reader of this
    Legend, in a deformed but yet recognisable shape, it would not
    be quite out of the limits of probability to suppose that this
    is also a remnant of the tradition of the tree of knowledge that
    occupied the centre of the garden of Eden.

    [8] The theory of the twelve causes and effects is, in itself,
    very abstruse, and almost above the comprehension of those
    uninitiated in the metaphysics of Buddhists. I will attempt to
    analyse it in as simple and clear a way as possible. This theory
    is very ancient, probably coeval with the first ages of
    Buddhism. It forms this basis of its ontology and metaphysics in
    the same manner as the four great and transcendent truths are
    the foundation whereupon rests the system of morals. It is
    probable that Gaudama, in his preachings, which were very
    simple, and within the reach of ordinary minds, never formulated
    his doctrine on this essential point in such a dry and concise
    manner. But the seed was sown, and the germ deposited here and
    there in his instructions. His immediate disciples, in
    endeavouring to give a distant shape to their master's
    doctrines, gradually framed the formula or theory just stated.
    It, in fact, presents the very characteristics of a system
    elaborated in a philosophical school.

    In taking our departure from the first cause, which is _Awidza_,
    or ignorance, or the wanting in science, or no knowledge, we
    have to follow the different stages and conditions of a being
    until it reaches decrepitude, old age, and death. When we speak
    of ignorance, or no science, we must not suppose the material
    existence of a being that ignores. But we must take ignorance in
    an abstract sense, deprived of forms, and subsisting in a manner
    very different from what we are wont to consider ordinary
    beings. A European has a great difficulty in finding his way
    through a process of reasoning so extraordinary, and so
    different from that positivism which he is used to. But with the
    Buddhist the case is widely different. He can pass from the
    abstract to the concrete, from the ideal to the real, with the
    greatest ease. But let us follow the scale of the causes and
    effects, upon which there are twelve steps.

    From ignorance comes _Sangkara_, that is to say, conception or
    imagination, which mistakes for reality what is unreal, which
    looks on this world as something substantial, whilst it is,
    indeed, nothing but shadow and emptiness, assuming forms which
    pass away as quick as the representations of theatrical
    exhibitions. Sangkara, in its turn, begets _Wignian_, or
    knowledge, attended with a notion of sentiment, implying that of
    soul and life, in an abstract sense. From Wignian proceeds
    _Namrup_, the name and form, because knowledge can have for its
    object but name and form, &c., or, to speak in the language of
    Buddhists, things that are external and internal. But let it be
    borne in mind that what is herein meant is but the individuality
    of an ideal being.

    The name and form give birth to the _Chayatana_, six senses, or
    seats of the sensible qualities. To our division of the five
    ordinary senses Buddhists add the sixth sense of Mano, or the
    heart, the internal sense. Through the senses we are put in
    communication or contact with all objects; hence the six senses
    give rise to the sixth cause _Pasa_, which means, properly
    speaking, contact. From this cause flows the seventh one, called
    _Wedana_, or sensation, or, more generally still, sensibility.
    In fact, there can be no contact from which there will not
    result some sensation, either pleasant or unpleasant, _Wedana_
    gives infallibly rise to _Tahna_, or passion, or desire, or
    inclination. From this point the series of causes and effects is
    comparatively easy, because it presents conditions essentially
    connected with a material object. By Tahna we ought not to
    understand only the mere inclination that the sexes have one for
    the other, but the general propensity created in a being by any
    contact whatever, or perhaps, as usual with Buddhists, the
    desire taken in an abstract sense.

    The immediate result from Tahna is _Upadan_, the attachment, or
    the conception. It is that state in which the desire adheres to
    something, assumes a shape. It is, in fact, the being conceived.
    From the state of conception the being passes into that of
    _Bawa_, or existence, or that condition which is created and
    made by the influence of former good or bad deeds preceding
    birth, which is but the apparition of the being into this world.
    _Dzati_, or birth, is the eleventh cause. It is the ushering of
    a being into the world. There are six ways by which a being
    comes into this world, viz., those of Nat, Man, Assura, Preitta,
    animal, and the inhabitant of hell. Birth is accomplished in
    four different manners, by humidity, an egg, a matrice, and
    metamorphosis.

    The twelfth and last step in the ladder of the causes and
    effects is decrepitude and death. In fact, every being that is
    born must grow old, decay, and finally die.

    Such is the process followed by Buddhists in attempting to
    account for all that exists. What effect could such a reasoning
    have over the mind of the generality of hearers it is difficult
    to say. But we may rest assured that, though these principles
    existed, as an embryo, in the discourses of the author of
    Buddhism, they were never laid before the generality of hearers
    in that crude scholastic form. Such abstruse ideas, when
    analysed and commented upon by Buddhist doctors, gave rise to
    the most opposite conclusions. The materialist school based its
    revolting doctrines upon that theory; we may add that the
    opinions of that school are generally held in Burmah, and by the
    great mass of Buddhists. Some other doctors reasoned in the
    following manner: Ignorance supposes two things, a being
    ignoring and a thing ignored, that is to say, man and the world.
    They admitted the eternity of a soul which had to pass through
    the series above enumerated. With them metempsychosis was a
    process exactly similar to that imagined by the Brahmins. As to
    the world, it was, to them, an unreality. Knowledge enabled them
    to come to the position of understanding and believing that
    there is no such thing as what we by mistake call world. The
    latter opinion, which seems to admit of a principle existing
    distinct from matter, is opposed to the former and general one,
    which supposes that spirit is but a modification of matter. We
    deliberately make use of the doubt, implying expression, at the
    head of the preceding sentence, respecting the real opinions of
    the latter school, because, in their way of arguing, it is
    impossible not to come to the painful conclusion that they
    ignore, or do not admit, a distinction between spirit and
    matter.

    [9] In a work different from that which has been translated is
    found a more developed exposition of the four great and sublime
    truths. We think that the reader will like to see in what manner
    Buddhists themselves understand this important subject, which
    is, with them, the foundation of their doctrine on morals.

    There are four great truths: pain, the production of pain, the
    destruction of pain, and the way leading to that destruction.
    What is pain, which is the first of the great truths? It is
    birth, old age, sickness, death, the coming in contact with what
    we dislike, the separation from what we feel an attachment for,
    the illusion which begets false knowledge. All that is pain.
    What is the production of pain, the second sublime truth? It is
    the desire which incessantly longs for an illusory satisfaction,
    which can never be obtained. That desire is a perpetually
    renewed craving, coveting objects here and there, and never
    satiated. Such is the cause productive of pain; such is the
    prolific source of all miseries. What is the destruction of
    pain, which is the third great truth? It is the doing away with
    that desire which always shows itself, searches after this or
    that object, is always attended with feelings of pleasure, or
    some other sensations. It is the perfect and entire stifling of
    that craving which always covets, and is never satiated. The
    estranging oneself from that desire and that craving, the
    complete destruction of both, constitutes the third great truth.
    What is the way leading to the destruction of that desire, which
    is the fourth great truth? The way which one has to follow, in
    order to obtain that most desirable result, is that which the
    wise man invariably follows, when he is with an intention, will,
    diligence, action, life, language, thought, and meditation,
    always pure and correct.

    The four truths are exceedingly praised by Buddhists. They
    constitute what is emphatically called the law of the wheel,
    incessantly revolving upon itself, and always presenting
    successively those four points to the attentive consideration
    and affectionate piety of the faithful. They are the offensive
    weapons wherewith passions are attacked and destroyed: they are
    the sword that cuts asunder the link that retains a being in the
    circle of existences. The revelation, or manifestation of those
    truths, is the great work that a Buddha has to perform. When it
    is made, all beings in their respective seats rejoice in an
    extraordinary manner. Inanimate nature even partakes in the
    universal joy. The earth shakes with a great violence, and the
    greatest prodigies proclaim aloud the fortunate manifestation of
    a law which opens to all beings the way leading to deliverance.
    The preaching of that doctrine took place for the first time in
    the forest of Migadawon, not far from Baranathee, in the
    presence and for the benefit of the five Rahans, who had
    attended on Buddha, during the six years of mortification which
    he spent to prepare and qualify himself for the Buddhaship.

    [10] Buddhists allow to their Buddha the power of working
    wonders and miracles. How is this power conferred upon him? This
    is a difficulty they cannot explain satisfactorily. The science
    of Buddha makes him acquainted with all the laws regulating
    nature, that is to say, the _ensemble_ of the animate and
    inanimate beings constituting a world; but one is at a loss to
    find the origin of that power which enables him, as often as he
    likes, to suspend the course of those laws. Be that as it may,
    certain it is that Buddha resorted always, during the course of
    his preachings, to miracles, in order to convince those who
    seemed to listen with rather an incredulous ear to his
    doctrines. Miracles were used successfully, as powerful and
    irresistible weapons, against certain heretics, the Brahmins, in
    particular, who taught doctrines opposed to his own. They often
    accompanied his preachings, for increasing faith in the heart of
    his hearers.

    [11] The great tempter had been foiled in all his attempts to
    conquer Buddha. In the sadness of his heart he was compelled to
    acknowledge the superiority of his opponent and confess his
    defeat. His three daughters came to console him, promising that
    they would, by their united efforts, overcome the firmness of
    the great Rahan, by awakening in his heart the fire of
    concupiscence. The names of those three daughters of Manh denote
    concupiscence. These new enemies of Buddha, therefore, are mere
    personifications of the passion of lust. Pride, personified in
    Manh, had proved powerless against the virtue of Buddha; he is
    now assailed from a different quarter; the attack is to be
    directed against the weakest side of human nature. But it is as
    successless as the former one: it affords to Buddha another
    occasion for a fresh triumph.

    [12] In Burmah the originator of the great Buddhistic system is
    called Gaudama, and this appellation, according to many, appears
    to be his family name. When he is called Rahan Gaudama, it means
    the ascetic belonging to the family of Gaudama. In Nepaul, the
    same personage is known under the name of Thakiamuni, that is to
    say, the ascetic of the Thakia family. Those who refused to
    believe in Buddha and his doctrines, those who held tenets
    disagreeing with his own, and professed what, in the opinion of
    their adversaries, was termed a heretical creed, invariably
    called Buddha by his family name, placing him on the same level
    with so many of his contemporaries who led the same mode of
    life. The Siamese give the appellation of Sammana Khodom to
    their Buddha, that is to say, Thramana Gaudama, or Gautama. The
    Sanscrit word Thramana means an ascetic who has conquered his
    passions and lives on alms. Gaudama belonged to the Kchatria
    caste. Kings and all royal families in those days came out of
    the same caste. Hence his father Thoodaudana was king of the
    country of Kapilawot, anciently a small state, north of
    Goruckpore.

    The young Pounha, not unlike the young man mentioned in the
    gospel, had, by the preachings of Gaudama, become acquainted
    with all the laws and practices relating to the general duties
    and obligations incumbent on men in general. He might have
    perhaps added that he had observed all those precepts from his
    youth, or, at least, that he was sure now, with the additional
    light he had received from his eminent teacher, to observe
    faithfully all the injunctions mentioned in the course of the
    lecture: but he was not satisfied with an ordinary proficiency
    in virtue and observances; he aimed at superior attainments; he
    wished to obtain the greatest perfection, that is to say, that
    of Brahmas. In what does such a perfection consist? The book of
    metaphysics informs us that the five states of Dzan, or
    contemplations, are enjoyed by the beings located in the sixteen
    seats of Brahmas, in the following order. The first state, or
    that of consideration, is shared by all the beings inhabiting
    the three first seats of Brahmas. Their occupation is to
    consider the various subjects the mind has to dwell on. The
    second Dzan, or reflection, is reserved for the beings occupying
    the next three seats. Those beings have no more to look out for
    subjects of meditation. Their sole occupation is to dive into
    truth and fathom its depth and various bearings. The third state
    of Dzan procures the pleasure which is derived from the
    contemplation of truth, and belongs to the beings of the three
    seats, superior to those just alluded to; in the fourth Dzan is
    enjoyed a placid happiness, which is the result of the
    possession of truth; it is reserved for the beings of the three
    next seats. The fifth Dzan, or perfect stability, is the happy
    lot of the beings living in the five last seats. Those fortunate
    inmates are so entirely rooted in truth, and so perfectly exempt
    from all that causes mutability, that they arrive at a state of
    complete fixity, the whole of their soul being riveted on truth.

    Apology is certainly due to the reader, who is but slightly
    initiated in such abstruse subjects, for laying before him
    particulars with which he is so unfamiliar; but this trouble
    must be borne up by him who desires to obtain access into the
    gloomy sanctuary of Buddhism.

    [13] The episode of these two merchants is well known to the
    inhabitants of the Irrawaddy valley. In three different
    manuscripts which the writer has had in his hands, he has found
    it related with almost the same particulars. Oukkalaba, the
    place the two young men started from, was situated probably on
    the spot now occupied by the village of Twaintay, or not far
    from it. How far that place was from the sea in those remote
    times it is not possible to ascertain with precision. Certain it
    is, that it was a port from which vessels sailed across the Bay
    of Bengal. The port of Eedzeitha has not as yet been identified
    with any known locality. It was situated in all probability
    between the mouth of the Krichna and that of the Hoogly. One of
    the manuscripts mentions that when Gaudama handed over to the
    two merchants eight hairs of his head, he bade them, on their
    arrival in their country, deposit the hairs on a small hill
    called Seingouttara, where the relics of the three former
    Buddhas of our period had been enshrined. They were twenty-seven
    days in reaching Maudin or Cape Negrais, rather a long voyage.
    Having come to their own place, they related to the governor all
    the particulars of their interesting journey. The latter,
    without loss of time, assembled the people and set out in search
    of the Seingouttara mount. All the eminences were cleared of
    their brushwood, but the mount could not be discovered. Not
    knowing what to do, they consulted the Nats on that affair. At
    last, through their assistance, the mount was found out. But
    when they inquired about the place of the relics of the three
    former Buddhas, the Nats of Yesapan, Inandra, and Gauveinda
    confessed that they knew nothing on the subject, but referred
    the inquirers to other Nats older than they, viz.: those of
    Deckina, Yauhani, Maubee, Ameisa, and Tsoolay, who at once
    pointed out the spot which they were so eagerly searching after.
    This spot is no other than the one over which stands and towers
    the lofty and massive Shoay Dagon. They erected a Dzedy, in
    which they enshrined the relics they had brought with them, the
    eight hairs of Buddha. This story is doubtless the foundation on
    which rests the popular belief that those very hairs are to this
    day in the interior of that monument, and the true source from
    which has originated the profound veneration which, in our own
    days, Buddhists, from all parts of Burmah, Siam, and the Shan
    states, pay by their pilgrimages and offerings to the Dagon
    Pagoda.

    [14] Upasaka is a Pali word which is designed to mean those
    persons who, having heard the instructions of Buddha, and
    professed a faith or belief in him and his doctrines, did not
    enter the profession of Rahans. Hence they are quite distinct
    from the Bikus or mendicants, who formed the first class of the
    hearers of Buddha, and renounced the world in imitation of their
    great master. The Upasakas were therefore people adhering to the
    doctrines of Buddha, but as yet remaining engaged in the
    ordinary pursuits of life. The two brothers became disciples of
    Buddha, but not of the first class, since they did not embrace
    the more perfect mode of life of the ascetics.

    This is the first instance in this legend of an allusion being
    made to relics, that is to say, to objects supposed to be
    surrounded with a certain amount of sacredness, and esteemed on
    that account to be worthy of receiving from devotees respect and
    veneration. The two young converts, not as yet confirmed in the
    new faith they had embraced, thought they wanted some exterior
    object to which they might hereafter direct their homage and
    offer their respects. They were as yet far from being acquainted
    with the sublime science of their eminent teacher, who,
    disregarding matter and all its modifications, could not but
    feel quite indifferent respecting the pretended value of relics
    of even the most sacred character. How is it that the stern
    moralist, the contemner of this illusory world, could think of
    giving a few hairs of his head to two new young converts, that
    they might use them as objects of worship? Buddha doubtless knew
    exactly and appreciated admirably the wants and necessities of
    human nature as it is, and will very likely ever be to the end
    of ages. Men are led, actuated, impressioned, and influenced by
    the senses; in fact, it is through their senses that the
    knowledge of things is conveyed to their minds. He gave to his
    imperfectly instructed disciples a thing that would serve to
    vivify and reanimate in their memory the remembrance of Buddha,
    and of the instructions they had heard from him. Those
    grossly-minded hearers asked for an object they might carry
    about with them and worship. Buddha, out of deference for their
    weak intellect, gave them a few hairs of his head, the sight of
    which was designed to maintain in their souls a tender affection
    for the person of him these things had belonged to. This subject
    will receive hereafter the further treatment it deserves when we
    come to examine the nature of the worship paid by Buddhists to
    the images of Gaudama, and to the relics and Dzedis.




CHAPTER VI.

    _Buddha hesitates to undertake the task of preaching the law --
    The great Brahma entreats him to preach the law to all beings --
    His assent to the entreaties -- Journey towards Migadawon --
    He meets Ouppaka -- His first preachings -- Conversion of a
    young nobleman named Ratha, followed by that of his father and
    other relatives -- Conversion of several other noblemen --
    Instructions to the Rahans -- Conversion of the three Kathabas._


Having come to the end of his great meditations,[1] Buddha left this
spot and returned to the place called Adzapala, where he revolved the
following subject in his mind:--"The knowledge," said he, "of the law
and of the four great truths, which I alone possess, is very hard to be
had. The law is deep; it is difficult to know and understand it; it is
very sublime, and can be comprehended only by the means of earnest
meditation. It is sweet, filling the soul with joy, and accessible only
to the wise. Now all beings are sunk very low by the influence of the
five great passions; they cannot free themselves from their baneful
operation, which is the source of all mutability. But the law of
mutability is the opposite of the law of Neibban or rest. This law is
hard to be understood. If I ever preach that law, beings will not be
able to understand me, and from my preaching there will result but a
useless fatigue and unprofitable weariness," Buddha thus remained almost
disinclined to undertake the great duty of preaching the law. The great
Brahma, observing what was taking place in Buddha's soul, cried out:
"Alas! all mankind are doomed to be lost. He who deserves to be
worshipped by all beings now feels no disposition to announce the law to
them." He instantly left his seat, and having repaired to the presence
of Phra, his cloak over his shoulders with one extremity hanging
backward, he bent his knee, lifted up his joined hands to the forehead
before the sage, and said to him: "Most illustrious Buddha, who art
adorned with the six glories, do condescend to preach the most excellent
law; the number of those buried under the weight and filth of passions
is comparatively small; if they do not listen to the law there will be
no great loss. But there is an immense number of beings who will
understand the law. In this world there are beings who are moderately
given up to the gratification of sensual appetites; and there are also a
great many who are following heretical opinions to whom the knowledge of
truth is necessary, and who will easily come to it. Lay now open the way
that leads to the perfection of Ariahs; those perfections are the gates
to Neibban." Thus he entreated Buddha. This Brahma had been in the time
of Buddha Kathaba a Rahan, under the name of Thabaka, and was
transferred to the first seat of Brahma for the duration of a world.

On hearing the supplications of that Brahma, Buddha began to feel a
tender compassion for all beings. With the keen eyes of a Buddha he
glanced over the whole world. He discovered distinctly those beings who
were as yet completely sunk in the filth of passions, those who were but
partly under the control of passions, and those whose dispositions
seemed to be more promising. He then made to the chief of Brahmas the
solemn promise that he would preach his law to all beings. Satisfied
with the answer he had received, the chief rose up, withdrew
respectfully at a proper distance, and turning on the right, left the
presence of Buddha and returned to his own seat.

Another thought preoccupied the mind of Buddha. "To whom," said he,
"shall I announce the law?" Having pondered a while over this subject,
he added: "The Rathee Alara of the Kalama race is gifted with wisdom and
an uncommonly penetrating mind; passions have scarcely any influence
over him. I will first preach to him the most excellent law." A Nat then
said to Phra that Alara had died seven days ago. Buddha, to whom the
past is known, had already seen that Alara was dead. He said: "Great
indeed is the loss Alara has met with; he would have doubtless been able
to understand right well the law I intended to preach to him. To whom
shall I go now?" Having paused a while, he added: "The Rathee Oodaka,
son of Prince Rama, has a quick perception; he will easily understand my
doctrine; to him I will announce the law." But the same Nat told him
that Oodaka had died the night before last, at midnight. "O! great is
the loss that has come upon Oodaka; he would have easily acquired the
knowledge of the perfect law." Buddha considered a third time, and said
to himself: "To whom shall I go to preach the law?" After a moment's
delay he added: "Many are the services I received in the wilderness from
the five Rahans who lived with me.[2] I will repay their good offices to
me, by preaching to them the law, but where are they now?" His
penetrating regards soon discovered them in the solitude of Migadawon.
Having enjoyed himself in the place Adzapala, Buddha went on towards the
country of Baranathee. All the former Buddhas travelled through the air,
but our Buddha, who had merciful designs over Upaka, went on foot. On
his way to the village of Gaya, at a distance of three gawots from the
Bodi tree, Buddha went to rest, at midday, for a while under the cooling
shade of a tree. There he was seen by the heretic Rahan Upaka, who,
approaching near him, said, "O Rahan, all your exterior bespeaks the
most amiable qualities; your countenance is at once modest and
beautiful. Under what teacher have you become a Rahan? To what law or
doctrine have you given preference in your arduous studies?" Buddha
answered: "Upaka, I have triumphed over all the laws of mutability; I am
acquainted with all the laws that rule this universe, and the beings
existing therein; from concupiscence and other passions I am wholly
disengaged. I have come to preach the most excellent law to all beings,
and teach them the four great truths I alone am acquainted with. I will
beat the great drum of the law. I have no teacher, and among Nats and
men there is none equal to me. Because of my victory, I have been named
Zeena. Now I am proceeding to the country of Baranathee, for the sake of
preaching the law." Upaka replied, "You are certainly the illustrious
Gaudama." He then shook his head, turned away from the road, and went to
the village of Wingaha. The instructions, however, germinated as good
seed in the soul of Upaka, and were the foundation of his subsequent
conversion, which happened as follows:--After this interview with
Gaudama, Upaka dwelt as a hermit in the village of Wingaha, where a shed
was erected for his dwelling. A hunter brought him support. It happened
that the hunter being engaged in a hunting excursion, his daughter went
to the hermit's cell, to carry him his food. Upaka was smitten by the
beauty of the damsel. He stretched himself on his belly and said to
himself, "I will take no food, nor change this position, unless I obtain
the object of my wishes." He stayed for several days in that position
without uttering a word, or making a single movement, or taking any
food. At last the hunter returned, and went forthwith to the hermit's
cell to inquire about the cause of his strange behaviour. He pulled him
by the feet, calling him aloud by the name of hermit; after a while a
sepulchral groan was heard, indicating that he was still alive. The good
hunter affectionately entreated him to mention to him what he wanted;
that he was ready to give him anything that he would ask. The hermit a
second time made a prolonged groan, as a man endeavouring to gather
strength. He then mentioned to the hunter the passion he had for his
daughter, and swore that he would die on the spot if his demand were
rejected. The father having given his consent, Upaka rose up, and was
soon married to Tsawama, who after due time presented him with a son. It
happened that Tsawama soon began to dislike her husband, and poured upon
him on every occasion all sorts of abuse. Unable to bear any longer the
unpleasant behaviour of his wife, Upaka said to himself, "I have here
neither friend nor supporter: I will go to my friend Dzina; he will
receive me with kindness." Hereupon he departed, inquiring everywhere
about his friend Dzina. At last he arrived at the place where Buddha was
staying with his disciples. Some of them, hearing Upaka inquiring with a
loud voice about his friend Dzina, took him into the presence of Buddha,
who, understanding at once the sad and painful state of the old man,
kindly asked what he wanted. Upaka replied that he desired to become a
Samanay under his direction. Buddha, to try his disposition, said to
him, "You are too old, Upaka, to enter upon the course of the severe
life of a Samanay, and conform to the enjoined practices." But the
latter renewing his entreaties, he was admitted among the members of the
assembly. He became an Anagam, died and migrated to one of the seats of
Brahmas. After a short stay up there, he obtained the deliverance. His
son was Thoobadda, who became afterwards an illustrious convert. Buddha
continued his way towards Baranathee, and soon reached the solitude of
Migadawon, a little distant from Baranathee, and went to the place where
lived the five unbelieving Rahans. When they saw him coming at a
distance, they said to each other, "The Rahan Gaudama is in search after
disciples; he has just performed penitential deeds, and he is looking
out for alms and clothes. Let us pay no respect to him in the way of
going out to meet him, of receiving the tsiwaran from his hands, of
presenting him water to wash his feet and preparing a place to sit on;
let him sit wherever he pleases." Such was the plan they concerted among
themselves. But when Buddha drew near, they could adhere no longer to
their resolution. They rose up and went out to welcome his arrival. One
took the tsiwaran from his hands, another the patta, a third one brought
water for the washing of the feet, and a fourth one prepared a becoming
place to rest. Buddha sat in the place that had been prepared for him.
They called him by the name of Gaudama and other appellations, usually
bestowed on ordinary Rahans. Buddha meekly replied to them, "Do not call
me any longer by the name of Gaudama, or any other title bestowed on an
ascetic. I have become a Rahanda; I alone am acquainted with the four
fundamental truths. Now I am come to preach to you the true law. Listen,
O Rahans, to my words; I will lead you to the true state of Neibban. My
law will make you acquainted not only with the truths to be known, but
at the same time point out to you the duties you have to perform, in
order to obtain the state of Arahat. There are four ways leading to
perfection. He who steadily follows them will enjoy the rewards and
merits gained by his exertions. In that position he will see distinctly
his own self; the light of Neibban will break forth upon him. But in
order to obtain the great results I set forth before you, he must
forsake his house and the world, and become a Rahan."

The unbelieving Rahans persisted in not acknowledging him as a Buddha,
and reproached him with going about in search of disciples and in quest
of alms. The same preaching was repeated by Buddha, and the same answer
was returned by his incredulous hearers. At last Buddha, assuming a
lofty and commanding tone, said to them, "I declare unto you that I am a
Buddha, knowing the four great truths and showing the way to Neibban."
The hitherto unbelieving ascetics humbled themselves, and declared their
belief in him and in all that he had taught. From that moment they
entered on the four ways of perfection. The day was that of the full
moon of Watso. The preaching began at the moment when half the disc of
the sun was visible on the western horizon, and half that of the moon
was above the eastern horizon. When completed, the sun had just
disappeared, and the moon's entire globe was visible on the horizon. The
five first converts were named Kautagnya, Baddiha, Wappa, Mahanan, and
Asadzi.

The Nats, guardians of the country of Baranathee[3] and Migadawon,
hearing the sublime instructions delivered by Buddha on this occasion,
cried aloud, "The law which the most excellent Buddha preaches is such
as no man, Pounha or Brahma, can teach." Their united voices were heard
in the lowest seat of Nats; the inhabitants of that seat, catching their
words, repeated them, and they were heard by those of the next seat, and
so on, until they reached the seats of Brahmas, and were re-echoed
through 10,000 worlds. A mighty commotion was felt all over these
worlds.

The five at first unbelieving, but now believing Rahans obtained the
perfection of Thautapati. Buddha often repeated to those that approached
him, "Come to me; I preach a doctrine which leads to the deliverance
from all the miseries attending existence." On that day, being the full
moon of Watso, eighteen koodes (18,000,000,000) of Nats and Brahmas who
had heard his preachings obtained the deliverance. The conversation of
those five Rahans exhibited to the world the splendid and wonderful
sight of six Rahandas assembled in the same place.

At that time, whilst Buddha was in the Migadawon grove, the memorable
conversion of a young layman took place. There was in the country of
Baranathee the son of a rich man, named Ratha. He was of very gentle and
amiable disposition. His father had built for him three palaces for each
season of the year. A crowd of young damsels, skilful in the art of
playing on all sorts of musical instruments, attended him in each of
those palaces. Ratha spent his time in the midst of pleasure and
amusements. On a certain day, while surrounded with female dancers and
singers, he fell into a deep sleep. The musicians, following his
example, laid aside their instruments, and fell asleep too. The lamps,
filled with oil, continued to pour a flood of light throughout the
apartments. Awaking sooner than usual, Ratha saw the musicians all
asleep round him in various and unseemly situations. Some slept with
wide-opened mouths, some had dishevelled hair, some were snoring aloud,
some had their instruments lying on themselves, and others by their
sides. The whole exhibited a vast scene of the greatest confusion and
disorder. Sitting on his couch in a cross-legged position, the young man
silently gazed with amazement and disgust over the unseemly spectacle
displayed before him; then he said to himself, "The nature and condition
of the body constitute indeed a truly heavy burden; that coarser part of
our being affords a great deal of trouble and affliction." Whereupon he
instantly arose from his couch, put on his gilt slippers, and came down
to the door of his apartment. The Nats, who kept a vigilant watch, lest
any one should oppose him in the execution of his holy purpose, kept
open the door of the house, as well as the gate of the city. Ratha, free
from all impediments, directed his steps towards the solitude of
Migadawon. At that time Buddha, who had left his sleeping place at a
very early hour, was walking in front of the house. He saw at a distance
a young man coming in the direction he was in. He instantly stopped his
pacing, and going into his own apartment, sat as usual on his seat,
awaiting the arrival of the young stranger, who soon made his appearance
and stated modestly the object of his visit. Buddha said to him, "O
Ratha! the law of Neibban is the only true one: alone it is never
attended with misery and affliction. O Ratha! come nearer to me; remain
in this place; to you I will make known the most perfect and valuable
law." On hearing these kind and inviting expressions, Ratha felt his
heart overflow with the purest joy. He instantly put off his slippers,
drew nearer to Buddha, bowed down three times before him, withdrew then
to a becoming distance, and remained in a respectful attitude. Buddha
began to preach the law, unfolding successively the various merits
obtained by alms-giving, by a strict performance of all duties and
practices of the law, and, above all, by renouncing the pleasures of
this world. During all the while the heart of the young visitor expanded
in a wonderful manner: he felt the ties that hitherto had bound him as
it were to the world gradually relaxing and giving way before the
unresisting influence of Buddha's words. The good dispositions of the
young hearer were soon remarked by Buddha, who went on explaining all
that related to the miseries attending existence, the passions
tyrannising over the soul, the means wherewith to become exempt from
those passions, and the great ways leading to perfection. After having
listened to that series of instructions, Ratha, like a white cloth that
easily retains the impressions of various colours printed upon it, felt
himself freed from all passions, and reached at once the state of
Thautapati.

Ratha's mother, not meeting her son early, went up as usual to his
apartment, and, to her great surprise, found him gone; moreover she
observed unmistakable marks of his sudden and unexpected departure. She
ran forthwith to her husband, and announced to him the sad tidings. On
hearing of such an unlooked-for event, the father sent messengers in the
direction of the four points of the compass, with positive orders to
search incessantly after his son, and leave no means of inquiry untried.
As to himself he resolved to go to the solitude of Migadawon, in the
hope of finding out some track of his son's escape. He had scarcely
travelled a limited distance, when he observed on the ground the marks
of his son's footsteps. He followed them up, and soon came in sight of
Buddha's resting-place. Ratha was at the time listening with deepest
attention to all the words of his great teacher. By the power of Buddha
he remained hidden from the eyes of his father, who came up, and, having
paid his respects to Gaudama, eagerly asked him if he had not seen his
son. Gaudama bade him sit down and rest after the fatigue of his
journey. Meanwhile he assured him that he would soon see his son.
Rejoiced at such an assurance, Ratha's father complied with the
invitation he had received. Buddha announced his law to this
distinguished hearer, and soon led him to the perfection of Thautapati.
Filled with joy and gratitude, the new convert exclaimed, "O illustrious
Phra, your doctrine is a most excellent one; when you preach it, you do
like him who replaces on its basis an upset cup; like him, too, who
brings to light precious things, which had hitherto remained in
darkness; like him who points out the right way to those that have lost
it; who kindles a brilliant light in the middle of darkness; who opens
the mind's eyes that they might see the pure truth. Henceforth I adhere
to you and to your holy law; please to reckon me as one of your
disciples and supporters." This was the first layman that became a
disciple of Gaudama, in the capacity of Upasaka.[4]

Whilst Buddha was busily engaged in imparting instruction to Ratha's
father, the young man had entered into a deep and solemn meditation over
some of the highest maxims he had heard from his great teacher. He was
calmly surveying, as it were, all the things of this world; the more he
progressed in that great work, the more he felt there was in himself no
affection whatever for anything. He had not yet become a Rahan, nor put
on the Rahan's dress. Phra, who attentively watched all the movements of
his pupil's mind, concluded from his present dispositions that there
could be no fear of his ever returning into the world of passions. He
suddenly caused by his mighty power the son to become visible to his
father's eyes. The father, perceiving on a sudden his son sitting close
by him, said, "Beloved son, your mother is now bathed in tears, and
almost sinking under the weight of affliction caused by your sudden
departure; come now to her, and by your presence restore her to life,
and infuse into her desolated soul some consolation." Ratha, calm and
unmoved, made no reply, but cast a look at his master. Buddha,
addressing Ratha's father, said to him, "What will you have to state in
reply to what I am about to tell you? Your son knows what you know; he
sees what you see; his heart is entirely disentangled from all
attachment to worldly objects; passions are dead in him. Who will now
ever presume to say that he ought to subject himself again to them and
bend his neck under their baneful influence?" "I have spoken rashly,"
replied the father; "let my son continue to enjoy the favour of your
society; let him remain with you for ever and become your disciple. The
only favour I request for myself is to have the satisfaction of
receiving you in my house with my son attending you, and there to enjoy
the happiness of supplying you with your food." Buddha by his silence
assented to his request. No sooner had his father departed than Ratha
applied for the dignity of Rahan, which was forthwith conferred upon
him. At that time there were in the world seven Rahandas.

On the following morning, Gaudama, putting on his yellow tsiwaran, and
carrying the patta under his arm, attended by the Rahan Ratha, sallied
from his house, and went, according to his promise, to the place of
Ratha's father, to receive his food. He had scarce entered the house and
occupied the seat prepared for him, when the mother of the new Rahan and
she who was formerly his wife came both to pay him their respects.
Buddha preached to them the law, explaining in particular the three[5]
principal observances becoming their sex and condition. The effect of
the preaching was immediate and irresistible: they became exempt from
all sins, and attained the state of the perfect, of Thautapati, and
became, among the persons of their sex, the first Upasakas. They desired
to be ranked among his disciples, and devoted themselves to his service.
They were the first persons of their sex who took refuge in the three
precious things, Buddha, his law, and the assembly of the perfect.
Gaudama and his faithful attendant, having eaten the excellent and
savoury food prepared for them, departed from the house and returned to
the monastery.

Four young men[6] belonging to the most illustrious families of
Baranathee, and formerly connected with Ratha by the ties of intimate
friendship, having heard that their friend had shaved his head and
beard, had put on a yellow dress and become a Rahan, said among
themselves: "Our friend has withdrawn from the society of men, given up
all pleasures, and has entered into the society of Rahans. There can be
no doubt but the law of Wini[7] is most excellent and sublime, and the
profession of Rahan most perfect." Whereupon they came to the place
their friend resided in, prostrated themselves before him, as usual in
such circumstances, and sat down at a respectful and becoming distance.
Ratha took them before Buddha, praying him to deliver to those who had
been his friends in the world the same instructions he had received from
him. Gaudama willingly assented to his request, and forthwith began to
explain to them the nature and abundance of merits derived from
alms-giving. He initiated them into the knowledge of the chief precepts
and observances of the law. These young hearers received with a cheerful
heart his instructions, and felt within themselves an unknown power,
dissolving gradually all the ties that had hitherto retained them in the
world of passions. Delighted at remarking so good dispositions in those
young men, Gaudama explained to them the higher doctrine of the four
great and fundamental truths which lead to perfection.[8] When the
preaching was over, they applied for and obtained the dignity of Rahans.
There were at that time eleven Rahandas in the whole world.

Fifty other young men of good descent, who had been the companions of
Ratha while in the world, having heard that their friend had left the
world, had put on the yellow garb and become Rahan, said to each other:
"The law which our friend listened to may not be a bad one; the
profession he has entered into may not be as despicable as many people
are wont to assert." They resolved to judge for themselves and to be
eye-witnesses to all that had been said on the subject. They set out for
the monastery Ratha was living in, came into his presence, paid their
respects to him, and stopped at a proper distance in a respectful
posture. Hatha led them to his great teacher, humbly craving for his
former friends the same favour he had done to him. Buddha graciously
assented to the request, and imparted instruction to his young hearers,
with such a happy result that they instantly applied for admittance to
the dignity of Rahans. This favour was granted to them. The total number
of Rahandas was thereby raised to sixty-one.

On a certain day, Gaudama called his disciples into his presence,[9] and
said to them: "Beloved Rahans, I am exempt from the five great passions
which, like an immense net, encompass men and Nats. You too, owing to
the instructions you have received from me, enjoy the same glorious
privilege. There is now incumbent on us a great duty, that of labouring
effectually in behalf of men and Nats, and procuring to them the
invaluable blessing of the deliverance. To the end of securing more
effectually the success of such an undertaking, let us part with each
other and proceed in various and opposite directions, so that not two of
us should follow up the same way. Go ye now and preach the most
excellent law, expounding every point thereof, and unfolding it with
care and attention in all its bearings and particulars. Explain the
beginning, the middle, and the end of the law to all men, without
exception; let everything respecting it be made publicly known and
brought to the broad daylight. Show now to men and Nats the way leading
to the practice of pure and meritorious works. You will meet, doubtless,
with a great number of mortals, not as yet hopelessly given up to their
passions, and who will avail themselves of your preaching for
reconquering their hitherto forfeited liberty, and freeing themselves
from the thraldom of passions. For my own part, I will direct my course
towards the village of Thena situated in the vicinity of the solitude of
Ooroowela."

At that time the wicked Nat Manh came into the presence of Buddha, and
tempted him in the following manner: "Men and Nats," said he, "have the
five senses; through those five senses passions act upon them, encompass
their whole being, and finally keep them bound up with the chains of an
unresistible slavery. As to you, Rahan, you are not an exception to that
universal condition, and you have not yet outstepped the boundaries of
my empire." Phra replied: "O vile and wretched Nat! I am well acquainted
with the passions men and Nats are subjected to. But I have freed myself
from them all, and have thereby placed myself without the pale of your
empire; you are at last vanquished and conquered." Manh, yet undismayed,
replied: "O Rahan, you may be possessed of the power of flying through
the air; but even in that condition, those passions which are inherent
in the nature of mortal beings will accompany you, so that you cannot
flatter yourself of living without the boundaries of my empire." Phra
retorted: "O wicked Nat, concupiscence and all other passions I have
stifled to death in me so that you are at last conquered." Manh, the
most wretched among the wretched, was compelled to confess with a broken
heart that Phra had conquered him, and he instantly vanished away.

Full of fervour in preaching the law, the Rahans saw themselves
surrounded with crowds of converts, who asked for the dignity of Rahan.
They poured in daily from all parts, into the presence of Buddha to
receive at his hands the much-longed-for high dignity.[10] Buddha said
to them, "Beloved Rahans, it is painful and troublesome both to you and
to those who desire to be admitted into our holy brotherhood to come
from such a great distance to me. I now give to you the power of
conferring the dignity of Patzin and Rahan on those whom you may deem
worthy to receive it. This is the summary way you will have to follow on
such occasions. Every candidate shall have his hair and beard shaved,
and shall be provided with the tsiwaran of yellow colour. These
preliminaries being arranged, the candidate, with the extremities of the
kowot thrown over his shoulders, shall place himself in a squatting
position, his joined hands raised to the forehead, repeating three
times, 'I adhere to Buddha, to the law, and to the assembly of the
perfect.'"

Gaudama, assembling again round him the Rahans, said to them, "Beloved
Rahans, it is owing to my wisdom, aided by constant reflection and
meditation, that I have at last reached the incomparable state of
Arahatapho; endeavour all of you to follow my example, and arrive at
last at the same state of excellence and perfection."

The vile and wretched Nat Manh appeared again before Buddha, striving to
tempt him in the same manner as before. Buddha, discovering the snares
laid down by the tempter, returned the same reply. Finding himself
discovered, Manh vanished from his presence.

Having spent his first lent[11] in the solitude of Migadawon, Phra
shaped his course in the direction of the forest of Ooroowela. On his
way to that place he stopped for a while in a jungle, and sat under a
tree, to enjoy some rest under its cool shade. At that time thirty young
noblemen had come to the jungle to indulge in sports and diversions.
Each of them had brought his wife, with the exception of one, who,
having no wife, was accompanied by a harlot. During the night the harlot
rose up unperceived, picked up the best articles belonging to the
parties, and carrying them with her, took to her heels through the dense
forest. In the morning the thirty young noblemen, rising up, soon
perceived the havoc made in the richest articles of their dress, and set
out in search of her who they suspected had done the mischief. They came
by chance to the spot where Gaudama was sitting in a cross-legged
position, and inquired from him whether he had seen a woman passing by.
Buddha said to them, "Which, in your opinion, is the best and most
advantageous thing, either to go in search of yourselves or in search of
a woman?" They replied, "Of course it is preferable to look after
ourselves." "If so," replied Buddha, "stay with me for a while; I will
preach my law to you, and, with its help, you will arrive at the
knowledge of self, and thence at perfection." They cheerfully assented
to his request, listened attentively to his instructions, and obtained
the state of perfect believers, but in various degrees, according to
their respective dispositions. They gave up the habit of drunkenness
they had hitherto indulged in, and persevered in the observance of the
five great precepts.

[It is to be remarked, adds the Burmese translator, that this happy
result was secured to the fortunate hearers by the influence of good
works made during former existences.[12]]

Gaudama, having so happily completed the conversion of those young
noblemen, rose up and continued his journey in the direction of the
forest of Ooroowela. At that time there were three distinguished and
far-famed teachers who presided over a vast number of Rathees or
disciples leading an ascetic life. They were named Ooroowela Kathaba,
Nadi Kathaba, and Gaya Kathaba. The first had under him five hundred
disciples, the second three hundred, and the third two hundred. Buddha
went up to the monastery of Ooroowela Kathaba, and said to him, "I carry
but a few articles with me, and need but a small place to rest in; I beg
of you to be allowed to spend the night only in your kitchen." Kathaba
answered: "Since you have so few things with you, I willingly allow you
to accommodate yourself in the best way you can in the cook-room; but I
must inform you that the Naga guardian of the place is an animal of a
very wicked temper, powerfully strong, and having a most deadly venom."
"I fear not the Naga," replied Buddha; "I am well satisfied with your
allowing me a place in the cook-room." Whereupon he entered into the
kitchen, sat down in a cross-legged position, and, keeping his body in
an erect posture, remained absorbed, as it were, in the deepest
contemplation. The Naga soon appeared, and irritated at seeing that a
stranger presumed to remain in a place committed to his care, resolved
to drive out the intruder. He began to vomit a cloud of smoke which he
directed at the face of the stranger. Buddha said to himself, "I will do
no harm to that Naga; I will leave intact his skin, flesh, and bones;
but I will conquer him with the very same weapons he uses against me."
Whereupon he emitted by his own power such a volume of thick smoke as
soon to silence his adversary, and oblige him to have recourse to more
effectual means of attack. He vomited out burning flames. Phra opposed
flames far more active and destructive than those of the Naga. They
shone forth with such an uncommon brightness as to attract a number of
Rathees, who stood motionless, admiring the beautiful countenance of
Buddha, and wondering at his matchless power. The Naga, vanquished, gave
up the contest, and left to Buddha the undisputed possession of the
cook-room during the whole night. In the morning opening his patta, Phra
thrust in the terrified Naga, and brought it to Ooroowela Kathaba, who,
surprised at the power of the stranger, said, "This Rahanda cannot as
yet be compared to me." He desired him to stay in his monastery,
promising to supply him with food as long as he should be with him. Phra
accepted the proffered invitation, and fixed his residence in the midst
of a grove little distant from the cell of Kathaba. Whilst he was there,
four chiefs of Nats of the seat of Tsadoomarit came at midnight to the
spot where rested Phra. They were very handsome, and a bright hue,
encompassing their bodies, filled the grove with a resplendent light.
Kathaba, surprised, came to Buddha, and said to him, "Great Rahan, the
hour of taking your food is at hand; your rice is ready, come and eat
it. How is it that at midnight there was such an uncommon splendour? One
would have thought that the whole forest in the neighbourhood was lined
with immense fires, spreading a blaze of light." Phra answering said,
"This wonder was caused by the presence of four chiefs of Nats that came
to visit me and hear my preachings." Kathaba said to himself, "Great
indeed must be the virtue of this Rahan, since Nats come to see him and
acknowledge him for their teacher. He is not yet, however, my equal."
Buddha ate his rice, and went back to the same place.

On another occasion, in the middle of the night, the chief of Thagias
came to the grove of Buddha, and by his power caused a flood of light
similar to that produced by a thousand lighted fires to pour its
effulgent rays in every direction. In the morning, Kathaba went to the
great Rahan inviting him to come and eat his rice. Meanwhile he asked
him the reason of the wonderful light that had been kept up about from
midnight until morning, which surpassed in brilliancy that which had
been seen on a former occasion. Phra told him that he had been visited
by the chief of Thagias, who came for the purpose of hearing his
instructions. Kathaba thought within himself: "Great indeed is the glory
and dignity of this Rahan, but he is not as yet a Rahanda." Phra ate his
food, and continued to stay in the same grove.

On another occasion, at the same late hour, Phra received the visit of
the chief of the Brahmas. The flood of light that was sent forth by his
body surpassed in effulgent splendour all that had been seen. Kathaba
came as usual, in the morning, to invite the great Rahan to come and
take his food, requesting him at the same time to inform him of the
cause of the great wonder that had just taken place. Phra told him that
the chief of Brahmas had waited upon him to listen to his preachings.
Kathaba wondered the more at the dignity of this great Rahan, who
attracted round him so eminent a visitor. But he said within himself:
"This Rahan is not yet a Rahanda that can be compared to me." Phra
partook of his food, and continued his stay in the same grove.

On a certain day, the people of the country had prepared offerings on a
large scale to be presented to Kathaba. On hearing this welcome news,
the Rathee thought within himself as follows: "The people are disposing
everything to make large offerings to me. It is as well this Rahan
should not be present on the occasion. He might make a display of his
power in the presence of the multitude, who, taken up with admiration
for his person, would make great offerings to him, whilst I should see
my own decrease in a proportion. To-morrow I will contrive in such a way
as to prevent the great Rahan from being present." Buddha discovered at
a glance all that was going on in Kathaba's mind. Unwilling to offer any
annoyance to his host, he conveyed himself to the island of Ootoogara,
where he collected his meal, which he came to eat on the banks of the
lake Anawadat. He spent the whole day there, and by his miraculous power
he was back to his grove at an early hour on the following day. The
Rathee came as usual, to invite him to partake of his meal that was
ready, and inquired from him why he had not made his appearance on the
day previous. Buddha, without the least emotion that could betray an
angry feeling, related to Kathaba all that had passed in his mind, and
informed him of the place he had been to. Kathaba, astonished at what he
heard, said to himself: "The knowledge of this Rahan is transcendent
indeed, since he is even acquainted with the thoughts of my mind; his
power too is wonderfully great; but withal, he is not as yet a Rahanda
comparable to me." Buddha, having eaten his meal, withdrew to his grove.

On a certain day Buddha wished to wash his dress. A Thagia, knowing the
thought that occupied his mind, dug a small square tank, and approaching
him respectfully, invited him to wash his tsiwaran therein. Buddha then
thought: Where shall I find a stone to rub it upon? The Thagia, having
brought a stone, said to him: "Illustrious Phra, here is a stone to rub
your tsiwaran on." He thought again: Where is a proper place to dry it
upon? The Nat that watched the tree Yekada caused it to bend its
branches, and said: "My lord, here is a fit place to hang up your
tsiwaran." He thought again: Where is a fit spot to extend my clothes
upon? The chief of Thagias brought a large and well-polished stone, and
said: "O illustrious Phra, here is a fit place to lay your tsiwaran
upon." In the morning, Kathaba repaired as usual to his guest's place,
to invite him to take his meal. Surprised at what he perceived, he said
to Buddha: "O Rahan, formerly there were here neither tank nor stone;
how is it that they are here now? How is it, moreover, that the tree
Yekadat is now bending down its branches?" Phra related then to the
Rathee all that had happened, informing him that the chief of Thagias
and one Nat had done all those works for him, and ministered to all his
wants. Kathaba wondered more than before at the great virtue and
surpassing excellency of the great Rahan; but he persisted in his former
opinion, that the great Rahan was not a Rahanda that could equal him.
Buddha, having taken his meal, returned to his grove.

On another occasion, the Rathee went to Buddha's place, to invite him to
come and partake of his meal. "Very well," said Buddha, "I have a small
business to do now; go beforehand, and I will follow you a few moments
hence." Whereupon Kathaba went back to his cell. As to Phra, he went to
pluck a fruit from the jambu tree, and arrived at the eating place
before Kathaba could reach it. The Rathee, on arriving there, was quite
surprised to find Phra already waiting for him. "How is this?" said he,
with an unfeigned feeling of surprise, "and by what way did you come and
contrive to arrive here before me?" Phra said to him: "After your
departure, I plucked one fruit from a jambu tree, and yet I have reached
this spot sooner than you. Here is the fruit I have brought. It is as
full of flavour as it is beautiful; allow me to present you with it,
that you may eat it." "O! no, great Rahan," replied the Rathee, "it is
not becoming that I should eat it, but rather keep it for yourself." He
thought within himself: "Wonderful is indeed the power and eminent
excellency of that great Rahan; but he is not as yet a Rahan that can be
ranked to me." Phra ate his rice, and returned to his grove.

On another day, Phra gave a fresh proof of his miraculous power, by
bringing to Kathaba a mango fruit, plucked from a mango tree growing
near the jambu tree, and so went on for several days, bringing fruits
that grew at the extremity of the southern island. On another day, Phra
ascended to the seat of Tawadeintha, and brought therefrom a beautiful
water-lily, and yet arrived at the place where his meal was ready before
Kathaba himself. The latter, quite amazed at seeing a flower from the
Nat country, thought within himself: "Wonderful, indeed, is the power of
that great Rahan, who has brought here, from the seats of Nats, a
beautiful lily in such a short space of time; but he is not as yet equal
to me."

On a certain day, the Rathees were busy splitting firewood. They got a
large log of wood upon which their united efforts could make no
impression. Kathaba thought within himself: "The great Rahan is gifted
with mighty power; let us try him on this occasion." He desired Gaudama
to split the hard log. Gaudama split it in a moment in five hundred
pieces. The Rathees then tried to light up the fuel, but they could not
succeed. Kathaba requested his guest to come to their assistance. In an
instant, the five hundred pieces were set in a blaze, and presented the
terrifying sight of five hundred large fires. The Rathees begged the
great Rahan to extinguish those fires which threatened a general
conflagration. Their request was instantaneously granted; the five
hundred fires were extinguished.

During the cold season in the months of January and February, when a
heavy cold dew falls, the Rathees amused themselves with plunging and
swimming in the river Neritzara. Phra caused five hundred fires to blaze
out on the banks of the river. The Rathees, coming out of the stream,
warmed themselves by the side of those fires. They all wondered at the
astonishing power of the great Rahan. But Kathaba persisted in saying
that he was not a Rahanda like him.

On a certain day, a great rain poured in torrents, so that the water
overflowed all the country, but it did not reach the spot Gaudama stood
upon. He thought within himself: It is good that I should create a
beautiful dry road in the midst of the water. He did so, and walked on
the dry road, and clouds of dust rose in the air. Kathaba, much
concerned regarding the fate of his guest, took a boat, and, with the
assistance of his disciples, pulled in the direction of Buddha's grove;
but what was their surprise, when reaching the spot they found, instead
of water, a firm dry road, and Buddha calmly walking to and fro. "Is it
you, great Rahan," cried Kathaba, "whom we see here?" "Yes," replied
Gaudama, "it is I indeed." He had scarcely returned this answer, when he
rose in the air and stood for a while above the boat. Kathaba thought
again within himself: "Great indeed must be the perfections and
attainments of the great Rahan, since water even cannot harm him, but he
is not yet a Rahanda like me." Phra, who knew what was taking place in
Kathaba's mind, said to himself: Long time has this Rathee kept thinking
within himself: This Rahan is great, but I am still greater than he; it
is time now that I should inspire him with fear and surprise. Addressing
Kathaba, he said: "Rathee, you are not a Rahanda that has arrived to the
perfection of Arahat; you have never performed the meritorious actions
of the four ways to perfection; you are not, therefore, a Rahanda. But I
have, during former existences, carefully attended to those practices
which have enabled me to reach perfection, and finally obtain the
Buddhaship." Astonished at such an unexpected declaration, Kathaba
humbled himself, fell on his knees, and prostrated himself at the feet
of Buddha, saying: "Illustrious Phra, I wish to become Rahan under your
direction." Phra replied: "Kathaba, you have under you five hundred
Rathees, go and inform them of all that has happened." Whereupon Kathaba
went to the place where the Rathees had assembled, and said to them: "I
wish to place myself under the direction of the great Rahan." The five
hundred Rathees told him that they were willing to follow his example,
since he had been hitherto to them such an excellent teacher. They rose
up, and, collecting their utensils, such as the twisted hairs, and
forked staff, the hairy girdle, the honey filtre, &c., flung them into
the river; then they came, and, prostrating themselves at the feet of
Buddha, craved admittance to the dignity of Rahans.

Nadi Kathaba, seeing the utensils floating on the water and carried down
by the stream, called his followers and said to them: "Some misfortune
must have befallen my elder brother; let us go and see what has
happened." They were no sooner arrived, than Kathaba related to them all
that had just taken place. Nadi Kathaba went forthwith to Buddha's cell,
attended all his disciples. Falling all at the feet of Phra, they
declared their readiness to become his disciples, and applied for the
dignity of Rahan. Gaya Kathaba, who lived a little below the place of
Nadi Kathaba, seeing on the surface of the water the utensils of the
followers of both his brothers floating in the direction of the stream,
hastened, with his two hundred disciples, to the place of Ooroowela
Kathaba. On his being informed of all that had occurred, he and his
followers threw themselves at Gaudama's feet, praying for admittance
into the order of Rahans. They were all admitted. The conversion of
Ooroowela Kathaba was brought about by the display, on the part of
Buddha, of no less than three thousand five hundred and sixty
wonders.[13]


FOOTNOTES

    [1] I have, except on one occasion, always made use of the terms
    meditation and contemplation to express the inward working of
    Buddha's mind during the forty-nine days he spent at the foot of
    the banyan tree. But the Burmese translator most commonly
    employs a much stronger expression, conveying the idea of trance
    and ecstasy. Hence after having remained seven days on the same
    spot, deeply engaged in considering some parts of the law he was
    soon to preach, it is said of him that he comes out from a state
    of perfect ecstasy. This expression implies a state of complete
    mental abstraction, when the soul, disentangled from the
    trammels of sense, raises itself above this material world,
    contemplates pure truth and delights in it. All her faculties
    are taken up with the beauty and perfection of truth; she clings
    to it with all her might, regardless of all the illusions this
    world is filled with. This situation of the soul is much
    esteemed by all fervent Buddhists. It is the lot of but a few
    privileged Rahans, who have made great progress in perfection,
    and obtained an almost entire mastery over their passions and
    senses. This great gift is, as one may well imagine, ardently
    coveted by many, who, though not possessing it, lay claim to it
    on false pretences. This being a sin devotees who relish a
    contemplative life are very liable to, which the framer of the
    regulations of the Buddhist monks has pronounced as _ipso facto_
    excluding from the society all those who would falsely claim the
    possession of uncommon spiritual attainments which they have
    not. In the book of ordination used for the admission of
    candidates to the order of Rahans or talapoins, this sin is the
    last of the four offences which deprive a member of the order of
    his dignity, and cause his expulsion from the society.

    [2] The five Rahans alluded to are the very same individuals who
    met Phralaong in the solitude at the time he was undergoing a
    great fast and performing all sorts of works of self-denial and
    corporal austerities in the most rigorous manner. During all the
    time he spent in those hard exercises of strict mortification,
    to conquer his passions and secure the complete triumph of the
    mind over the senses, he was assisted in all his wants by those
    five Rahans, who rendered to him the usual services disciples
    are wont to perform to their teacher. When they saw Phralaong at
    the end of his mighty efforts in that great struggle resuming
    the habits of a mendicant, they left him at once, unwilling to
    believe that he would ever become a Buddha. Our Phra, not
    unmindful of the good services he had received from them,
    resolved to impart first to them the blessings of his
    preachings. Alara and Oodaka, his two first teachers in the
    science of Dzan, were destined to be the first who would have
    heard the good news had they not been dead. Gratitude seems to
    have been the first and main motive that induced him to select
    as the first objects of his mission the very same persons who
    had been instrumental in furthering his efforts to acquire the
    Buddhaship.

    The unpleasant epithet of heretic is given to those five Rahans,
    as well as to another named Upaka, as designed to mean that they
    held tenets at variance with those of Buddha, and refused to
    acknowledge him as possessed of the perfect intelligence.
    Buddhists, in their writings, invariably call their opponents by
    the name of holders of false doctrines. The Brahmins or Pounhas
    who refused to seek refuge in Buddha, his law, and the assembly
    of his disciples, are spoken of as professors of heterodoxical
    doctrines.

    From the narrative of this Legend we may conclude, with a
    probability amounting almost to certitude, that Buddha in his
    preachings addressed himself first to the Brahmins, as being by
    their caste the most influential portion of the Hindu community.
    Those that are called by the name of Pounhas are the Brahmins
    living in the world and following the ordinary pursuits of life.
    Those that are mentioned by the names of Rahans and Rathees are
    probably Brahmins, or at least belong to some other
    distinguished caste like that of the Kchatrias, but are members
    of some religious order or ascetics. They were in those days men
    whom, in imitation of the ancient Greeks, we may call
    philosophers, and who belonged to one or other of the branches
    into which the great Indian school was divided. We may
    conjecture that at that time India exhibited a scene much
    resembling that which Greece subsequently offered to the eyes of
    the observer in the days of Socrates and Plato, when schools of
    philosophy were to be met with in every direction. The Hindu
    philosophers, favoured by climate and their ardent imagination,
    carried much further than the Greek wise men, both in theory and
    practice, the discussion of dogmas and the fervour of religious
    practices. If credit is to be given to our Legend in a
    historical point of view, we may safely conclude that such was
    the state of India when Buddha began his preachings. His first
    hearers were Rahans, Rathees, and Pounhas, that is to say, the
    most learned and wisest men in those days. The latter in
    particular seemed at first disinclined to offer opposition to
    Buddha; they listened to him as to a distinguished philosopher;
    his arguments were examined, discussed, and answered by them in
    the best way they could. In that polemical warfare, arguments
    were at first the only offensive and defensive weapons used and
    handled by the combatants on both sides. Buddha's two favourite
    doctrines of Atheism and Neibban, which established the two
    broad lines of separation between the two systems, begat much
    discussion and created some animosity between him and his
    adversaries. But what widened the gap between the two parties,
    and placed them in a hostile array against each other, was the
    broad principle of equality amongst men, latent in the bosom of
    Buddha's doctrines, and levelled at the distinction of castes.
    Buddha preached to men of all conditions without exception; he
    opened before all the ways that lead to Neibban; made no
    distinction between man and man, except that which is drawn by
    virtue and vice, merits and demerits. He allowed every one to
    approach him and take rank among his disciples; faith in his
    doctrine entitled any man to be numbered amidst his followers;
    the entrance into the order of Rahans or perfect was open to all
    those who, by their meritorious actions and renouncing the
    world, qualified themselves for this dignity. This principle,
    which put on a footing of equality men of all castes and
    nations, and recognised no real superiority but that which is
    conferred by virtue and merit, could not prove agreeable to the
    proud Brahmins. It provoked, by its gradual development, the
    animosity of the opponents of Buddha's doctrines. The battle of
    arguments, after having raged with various success, was
    afterwards converted into one of a bloody character, which ended
    in the total extermination or expulsion of the Buddhists from
    the Indian peninsula.

    [3] The mission of Buddha is not, as previously observed,
    confined to men living on earth, but it extends its beneficial
    action over all the beings inhabiting the six seats of Nats and
    sixteen of Brahmas. Those beings, the latter in particular, are
    much advanced in perfection, but they are not yet ripe for the
    sublime state of Neibban. Though freed, at least the Brahmas,
    from the influence of passions, they retain as yet some
    inclination for matter; they want the help of a Buddha to break
    at once the few slender ties that retain them in the state of
    existence.

    The first preaching of Buddha was rewarded with the conversion
    of five Rahans, and of a countless number of Nats and Brahmas.
    Such a plentiful harvest he could scarcely anticipate to reap;
    and the beginning of his career, attended with such wonderful
    success, amply repaid him for the extraordinary exertions he
    made in order to qualify himself for the Buddhaship. The author
    of the Legend remarks, with an unfeigned pleasure, that owing to
    the conversion of the five Rahans, the worlds witnessed the
    beautiful sight of six Rahandas congregated on the same spot.
    The Rahanda has attained the summit of perfection; he has
    arrived at the last existence; his death will relieve him from
    the burden of existence, and open to him the way leading to
    perfect rest, to complete abstraction--in a word, to Neibban.
    The Rahandas rank first among the disciples and hearers of
    Buddha; they constitute the _élite_ of his followers, and form
    the most distinguished portion of the assembly or congregation
    of the perfect. We have already stated that the members
    composing the assembly of the hearers were divided into distinct
    sections, and formed different degrees, according to the
    difference of their respective progress on the way of
    perfection.

    [4] It may be interesting to give an abridgment of an
    instruction or sermon delivered by Gaudama to a Nat. It will be
    as a fair specimen of other similar performances. The Nat made
    his appearance at nightfall, and respectfully entreated Buddha
    to deliver certain instructions which would enable men to come
    to the understanding of many points of the law on which they had
    hitherto fruitlessly meditated. Buddha was then in the monastery
    of Dzetawon, in the country of Thawattie. This sermon is
    supposed to have been repeated by Ananda, who had heard it from
    the mouth of Buddha himself. It is, according to the Burmese,
    the most excellent sermon; it contains thirty-eight points.

    "Young Nat," said Buddha, "here are the most excellent things
    men and Nats ought to attend to, in order to capacitate
    themselves for the state of Neibban: to shun the company of the
    foolish; to be always with the wise; to proffer homage to those
    that are deserving of it; to remain in a place becoming one's
    condition; to have always with one's self the influence of
    former good works; steadily to maintain a perfect behaviour; to
    be delighted to hear and see much, in order to increase
    knowledge; to study all that is not sinful; to apply one's self
    to acquire the knowledge of Wini. Let every one's conversation
    be regulated by righteous principles; let every one minister to
    the wants of his father and mother; provide all the necessaries
    for his wife and children; perform no action under the evil
    influence of temptation; bestow alms; observe the precepts of
    the law; assist one's relatives and friends; perform no actions
    but such as are exempt from sin; be ever diligent in such
    avoiding, and abstain from intoxicating drink. Let no one be
    remiss in the practice of the law of merits. Let every one bear
    respect to all men; be ever humble; be easily satisfied and
    content; gratefully acknowledge favours; listen to the preaching
    of the law in its proper time; be patient; delight in good
    conversation; visit the religious from time to time; converse on
    religious subjects; cultivate the virtue of mortification;
    practise works of virtue; pay attention always to the four great
    truths; keep the eyes fixed on Neibban. Finally, let one in the
    middle of the eight afflictions of this world be, like the
    Rahanda, firm, without disquietude, fearless, with a perfect
    composure. O young Nat, whoever observes these perfect laws
    shall never be overcome by the enemies of the good: he shall
    enjoy the peace of Ariahs."

    Within a narrow compass, Buddha has condensed an abridgment of
    almost all moral virtues. The first portion of these precepts
    contains injunctions to shun all that may prove an impediment to
    the practice of good works. The second part inculcates the
    necessity of regulating one's mind and intention for a regular
    discharge of the duties incumbent on each man in his separate
    station. Then follows a recommendation to bestow assistance on
    parents, relatives, and all men in general. Next to that, we
    find recommended the virtues of humility, resignation,
    gratitude, and patience. After this, the preacher insists on the
    necessity of studying the law, visiting religious, conversing on
    religious subjects. When this is done, the hearer is commanded
    to study with great attention the four great truths, and keep
    his mind's eye ever fixed on the happy state of Neibban, which,
    though as yet distant, ought never to be lost sight of. Thus
    prepared, the hearer must be bent upon acquiring the
    qualifications befitting the true sage. Like the one mentioned
    by the Latin poet, who would remain firm, fearless, and unmoved,
    even in the midst of the ruins of the crumbling universe, the
    Buddhist sage must ever remain calm, composed, and unshaken
    among all the vicissitudes of life. Here is again clearly
    pointed out the final end to be arrived at, viz., that of
    perfect mental stability. This state is the foreshadowing of
    that of Neibban.

    [5] From the perusal of this Legend, it can be remarked that
    Buddha, in the course of his preachings, withheld from no one
    the knowledge of his doctrine, but, on the contrary, aimed at
    popularising it in every possible way. In this respect he widely
    differed from the Brahmins, who enveloped their tenets in a
    mysterious obscurity, and even in that state of
    semi-incomprehensibility, condescended to offer them to the
    consideration of but a few selected adepts. But Buddha followed
    quite an opposite course. He preached to all without exception.
    On this occasion we see him engaged in explaining to the mother
    and wife of Ratha duties truly becoming their sex and position.
    He warned them against the danger of speaking too much, or
    speaking hastily and with a tone of dissatisfaction. He desired
    them to be always cool and moderate in their conversation, and
    to take a pleasure in conversing on religious topics, such as
    the practice of the ten great duties, the merits of almsgiving,
    and on the other precepts of the law. He showed to them the
    unbecomingness of inconsistency in speaking, and finally
    concluded by exhorting them to allow wisdom to guide them in the
    right use of the faculty of speech. Every one will agree in this
    that the lecture was a very appropriate one, and would suit
    women of our days as well as those of Buddha's times.

    It is not easy to determine whether these two female converts
    became Rahanesses by forsaking the world and devoting all their
    time to religious observances, or simply believed in Buddha's
    doctrines and continued to live in the world. The Burmese
    translator makes use of expressions liable to both
    interpretations. I feel inclined to adopt the second
    supposition. They became female Upasakas, and continued to live
    in the world. We shall see, hereafter, that Gaudama's aunt,
    Patzapati, was the first, after much entreating, who was allowed
    to become a Rahaness.

    The great former of the Buddhistic disciplinary regulations has
    also laid down rules for the institution and management of an
    order of female devotees, to match, as it were, with that of
    talapoins. Hence in almost all countries where Buddhism
    flourishes, there are to be met houses and monasteries which are
    the abodes of those pious women, who emulate Rahans in the
    strict observance of practices of the highest order. Their
    dress, except the colour, which is white, is quite similar to
    that of talapoins; their head is shaved; they live in strict
    continence as long as they continue to wear the dress of their
    profession. They have certain formulas of prayer to repeat every
    day several times. Their diet is the same as that of talapoins;
    they are forbidden to take any food after midday. I am not aware
    that they render any service to society in the way of keeping
    schools for the benefit of female children. They live on alms
    freely bestowed on them by their co-religionists. The Burmese
    honour them with the title of Mathi-la-shing, which means ladies
    of the religious duties. The order of those female devotees is
    now much on the decline; the inmates of houses are but few,
    enjoying a very small share of public esteem and respect. They
    are generally looked upon with feelings akin to those
    entertained towards beggars.

    In the Wini, or book of discipline, the relations that are
    allowed to subsist between the two orders of male and female
    devotees are minutely described and clearly laid down, so as to
    prevent the evils that might result from a familiar and
    unnecessary intercourse. Thoroughly acquainted with the weakest
    side of human nature, the author of the Wini has legislated on
    that subject with the utmost circumspection. He allowed rather
    aged Rahans to be the spiritual advisers of the Rahanesses, but
    he denies them the leave of ever going to their houses under any
    pretext whatever. When the latter want to hear preaching or
    receive some advice from the Rahans, they resort in broad
    daylight to the monastery, are permitted to stay in a large hall
    open to the public, at a considerable distance from him whom
    they desire to consult. Having briefly and with becoming
    reverence made known the object of their visit, and received
    some spiritual instructions, they immediately return to their
    own place.

    The same reflection may be applied to the conversion of Ratha's
    father. It is said that he was the first convert out of the body
    of laymen. He does not appear to have forsaken the world and
    become a first-class convert. He became a Thautapati, and at
    once entered one of the four ways leading to perfection, but
    remained in the world.

    [6] The conversion of Ratha and of his young friends shows to us
    distinctly the tendency of Buddha's preachings, and their effect
    over those who believed in him. Ratha is represented as a young
    worldly-minded man, who, in the midst of riches, has denied
    himself to no kind of pleasure. He feels that the enjoyments he
    was so fond of can in no manner satisfy the cravings of his
    heart: he is disgusted at them, and resolves to withdraw into
    solitude, with the intention of placing himself under the
    direction of some eminent teacher, and learn from him the way to
    happiness. He hopes that the study of philosophy will lead him
    to true wisdom and the acquirement of the means that may render
    him happy. He luckily falls in with Buddha, who explains to him
    that the senses are the instruments through which passions act
    upon and tyrannise over the soul, by keeping it in a painful
    subjection to matter. He points out to him the necessity of
    freeing himself from their control. This principle of Buddhism,
    which aims at disengaging the soul from matter, isolating it
    from all that proves a burden to it, and delivering it from the
    tyrannical yoke of concupiscence, is in itself perfectly
    correct, but, carried beyond its legitimate consequences, it
    becomes false and absurd. According to Buddhists, the soul,
    disentangled from all that exists, finds itself alone without
    any object it can adhere to; folding itself up into its own
    being, it remains in a state of internal contemplation,
    destitute alike of all active feelings of pleasure and pain.
    This doctrine was known in the time of Buddha, as far as the
    principle is concerned. The Rathees and other sages in those
    days upheld it both in theory and practice; but, on the
    consequences, the originator of Buddhism was at issue with his
    contemporaries, and struck out a new path in the boundless field
    of speculative philosophy.

    [7] The Wini is one of the great divisions of Buddhistic sacred
    writings. The Pitagat, or collection of all the Scriptures, is
    divided into three parts--the Thouts, containing the preachings
    of Buddha, the Wini, or book of the discipline, and the Abidama,
    or the book of Metaphysics. That compilation is supposed to
    embody the doctrines of Buddha in a complete manner. These books
    have not been written by Buddha himself, since it is said of him
    that he never wrote down anything. The first Buddhistic
    compositions were certainly written by the disciples of Phra, or
    their immediate successors. But there arose some disputes among
    the followers of Buddha, as to the genuineness of the doctrines
    contained in the various writings published by the chief
    disciples. To settle the controversy, an assembly or council of
    the most influential members of the Buddhistic creed, under the
    presidency of Kathaba, was held about three months after
    Gaudama's demise. The writings regarded as spurious were set
    aside, and those purporting to contain the pure doctrines of
    Phra were collected into one body, and formed, as it were, the
    canon of sacred books. The matter so far was settled for the
    time being, but the human mind, when unrestrained by authority,
    acted in those days with the same result as it does in our own
    times. Various and different were the constructions put on the
    same text by the expounders of the Buddhistic law. All parties
    admitted the same books, but they dissented from each other in
    the interpretation. Some of the books hitherto regarded as
    sacred were altered or rejected altogether to make room for the
    works of new doctors. Confusion prevailed to such an extent,
    that an hundred years later a second council was assembled for
    determining the authenticity of the real and genuine writings. A
    new compilation was made and approved of by the assembly. The
    evil was remedied; but the same causes that had exercised so
    baneful an influence previously to the time of the second
    council soon worked again and produced a similar result. Two
    hundred and thirty-five years after Gaudama's death a third
    council was assembled. The books compiled by the second council
    were revised and apparently much abridged, and with the sanction
    of the assembled fathers a new canon of scriptures was issued.
    The Pitagat in its present shape is regarded as the work of this
    last assembly. All the books are written in the Pali or Magatha
    language. In the beginning of the fifth century of our era,
    according to our author's computation, a learned man, named
    Boudagautha, went to Ceylon, and brought back to Burmah a copy
    of the collection of the Pitagat. Then he introduced into this
    country the alphabet now in use, and translated into the
    vernacular a portion of the scriptures. This important subject
    shall receive hereafter fuller development.

    [8] The four principles or truths so often alluded to in the
    course of this work ought to be well understood, in order to get
    a clear insight into the system under consideration. These four
    truths are as follows:--1. There are afflictions and miseries
    attending the existence of all beings. 2. There are passions
    and, in particular, concupiscence, which are the causes of all
    miseries. 3. There is Neibban, which is the exemption of all
    passions, and, consequently, the deliverance from all miseries.
    4. There are the four ways or high roads leading to Neibban.
    Here is the summary of the sublime knowledge and transcendent
    science possessed by a Buddha: these four fundamental truths
    form the four features or characteristics of his law; they
    safely guide man in the way to deliverance. The Buddhist sage,
    who longs to become perfect, must study with attention the
    position of all beings in this world, survey with a patient
    regard their diversified conditions, and fathom the depth of the
    abyss of miseries in which they are miserably sunk. A vague,
    general and superficial knowledge of these miseries is
    insufficient to create that perfect acquaintance with human
    wretchedness. He ought to examine one after the other those
    series of afflictions, until he feels, as it were, their
    unbearable weight pressing over his soul. This first step having
    been made by the means of reflection, meditation, and
    experience, the sage, standing by the side of all miseries that
    press upon all beings, as a physician, by the bed of a patient,
    inquires into the cause of such an awful moral disorder. He soon
    discovers the generating causes of that universal distemper;
    they are the passions in general; or rather, to speak more in
    accordance with Buddhistic expressions, concupiscence, anger,
    and ignorance are the springs all demerits flow from, are the
    impure sources wherefrom originate all the miseries and
    afflictions this world is filled with. The destruction of those
    passions is the main and great object he has in view. He,
    therefore, leaves the world and renounces all pleasures and
    worldly possessions, in order to extinguish concupiscence; he
    practises patience under the most trying circumstances, that
    anger may no longer have any power over him; he studies the law,
    and meditates on all its points, in order to dispel the dark
    atmosphere of ignorance by the bright light of knowledge.

    Having advanced so far, the sage has not yet reached the final
    object of his desires; he has not yet attained to the end he
    anxiously wishes to come to. He is just prepared and qualified
    for going in search of it. Neibban, or the _absolute_ exemption
    and _permanent_ deliverance from the four causes productive of
    existence, or of a state of being, is the only thing he deems
    worthy to be desired and earnestly longed for. The sage,
    perceiving such a desirable state, sighs after it with all the
    powers of his soul. Neibban is to him what the harbour is to the
    storm-beaten mariner, or deliverance to the worn-out inmate of a
    dark dungeon. But such a happy state is, as yet, at a great
    distance; where is the road leading thereto? This is the last
    truth the sage has to investigate. The four roads to perfection
    are opened before him. These he must follow with perseverance;
    they will conduct him to Neibban. They are a perfect belief, a
    perfect reflection, a perfect use of speech, and a perfect
    conduct.

    [9] Buddha, having trained up his disciples to the knowledge of
    his doctrines as well as to the practice of his ordinances,
    elevates them to the dignity of preachers, or, to be more
    correct, makes them fellow-labourers in the arduous task of
    imparting to mankind the wholesome knowledge of saving truths.
    An unbounded field is opened before him; the number of beings
    who are designed to partake of the blessings of his doctrines is
    incalculably great. His own efforts will not prove adequate to
    the difficulties such a mighty undertaking is encompassed with;
    he joins to himself fervent disciples that have reached all but
    the farthest limit of perfection by the thorough control they
    have obtained over their passions; he considers them as
    instruments well fitted for carrying into execution his
    benevolent designs, and entrusts them with the mission he has
    entered upon. By adopting such a step, the wise founder of
    Buddhism establishes a regular order of men, whom he commissions
    to go and preach to all living creatures the doctrines they have
    learnt from him. The commission he imparted to them was
    evidently to be handed down to their successors in the same
    office. He may now die, but he is sure that the work he has
    begun shall be carried on with zeal and devotedness by men who
    have renounced the world and given up all sorts of enjoyments,
    that they might engage in the great undertaking with a heart
    perfectly disentangled from all ties and impediments of every
    description.

    In entrusting his disciples with the important duty of teaching
    mankind, Buddha, obeying the impulse of his universal charity,
    desires them to go all over the world and preach all the truth
    to all mortals. He distinctly charges them to announce openly
    and unreservedly all that they have heard from him. In these
    instructions the plan of Buddha is clearly laid down, and the
    features of the mission he assumes distinctly delineated. His
    object is to spread his doctrines all over the world and to
    bring all beings under his moral sway. He makes no distinction
    between man and man, nation and nation. Though belonging by
    birth to a high caste, he disregards at once those worldly
    barriers whereby men are separated from each other, and
    acknowledges no dignity but that which is conferred by virtue.
    Bold, indeed, was the step that he took in a country where the
    distinction of caste is so deeply rooted in the habits of the
    people, that all human efforts have, hitherto, proved abortive
    in destroying it. It has already been hinted in a foregoing note
    that Gaudama placed himself on a new ground, in opposition to
    the Brahminical doctrines. He, doubtless, cautiously avoided to
    wound directly the feelings of his antagonists; but, at the same
    time, he adroitly sowed the seed of a mighty revolution, that
    was to change, if left to grow freely, the face of the Indian
    peninsula. His doctrine bore two characteristics, that were to
    distinguish it essentially from that of his adversaries; it was
    popular and universal, whereas that of his opponents was wrapped
    up in a mysterious obscurity, and unfolded completely only to a
    privileged caste. Another great difference between the two
    systems is this: Buddha paid little attention to the dogmatical
    portion of religion, but laid the greatest stress on morals. The
    dogmas are few and little insisted on. He aimed at correcting
    the vices of the heart, but exerted himself little to redress
    the errors of the mind.

    [10] In these new instructions delivered to the Rahans, Buddha
    gives them the power of receiving into the ranks of the assembly
    those of their converts who should prove foremost in
    understanding the law and observing its highest practices. He
    empowers them to confer on others the dignity of Rahans, and
    admit them to the various steps that lead to that uppermost one.
    To observe uniformity in the reception of candidates to the
    various orders, Buddha laid down a number of regulations
    embodied in the Kambawa, or book used as a sort of ritual on the
    days of admission of candidates to the dignity of Patzins and
    Rahans. The contents of this small but interesting work may be
    seen in the notice on the order of talapoins, or Buddhist monks,
    inserted at the end of this volume. That the reader may have now
    an idea of the general purpose and object of these regulations,
    I will sketch a slight outline of them. The candidate, who seeks
    for admission among the members of the order, has to appear
    before an assembly of Rahans, presided over by a dignitary. He
    must be provided with the dress of the order, and a patta or the
    pot of a mendicant. He is presented to the assembly by a Rahan,
    upon whom devolves the important duty of instructing him in all
    that regards the profession he is about to embrace, and lead him
    through the ordeal of the ceremony. He is solemnly interrogated
    before the assembly on the several defects and impediments which
    incapacitate an individual for admission into the order. On his
    declaring that he is free from such impediments, he is, with the
    consent of the assembled fathers, promoted to the rank of
    Patzin. But before he is allowed to take his place among his
    brethren, he is instructed in the four principal duties he will
    have to observe, and warned against the four capital sins, the
    commission of which would deprive him of his high and holy
    character, and cause his expulsion from the society.

    It is supposed that the candidate, previous to his making
    application for obtaining the dignity of Rahan, has qualified
    himself by study and a good life for admittance among the
    perfect. By surrounding the admission of candidates into the
    ranks of the order with a display of ceremonies, the shrewd
    framer of these regulations intended to encircle the whole body
    with a halo of dignity and sacredness, and at the same time to
    provide, as far as human wisdom allows, against the reception of
    unworthy postulants.

    Hitherto Buddha had reserved to himself alone the power of
    elevating hearers or converts to the dignity of Rahans; now he
    transfers to his disciples that power and bids them use it as
    they had seen him do, in behalf of those whom they deem worthy
    applicants. He has established a society, and striven to infuse
    into it all the elements necessary for keeping it up hereafter,
    and securing its existence and permanency. He sets up a kind of
    ecclesiastical hierarchy, which is to be perpetuated during the
    ages to come by the same means and power that brought it into
    existence.

    Having put such a power into the hands of his disciples, Buddha
    very properly exhorts them to emulate him in his efforts to
    become perfect. He sets himself as a pattern of perfection, and
    bids them all imitate the examples he places before them. He
    shows briefly to them by what means he has attained the state of
    Arahatapho, and stimulates them to the adopting of similar
    means. The word Arahatapho is composed of two words--arahat,
    which means perfect, and pho or phola, as the orthography
    indicates, which means reward, merit. The state of Arahatapho is
    that in which a man enjoys the merits or reward of perfection,
    which he has reached by the practice of virtue, and particularly
    the acquirement of wisdom or knowledge of the highest points of
    the law. It is used often in opposition to the word
    Arahatamegata, which signifies the ways or roads leading to
    perfection.

    [11] I have translated by _lent_ the Burmese expression Watso,
    which is but the Pali term Wasa, Burmanised. The word "lent,"
    which has been adopted, is designed to express not the real
    meaning of Wasa, but to convey to the reader's mind the idea of
    a time devoted to religious observances. Wasa means a season,
    but it is intended to designate the rainy season, which in those
    parts of the Peninsula where Buddha was residing begins in July
    and ends in November. During that period the communications
    between villages and towns are difficult, if not impossible. The
    religious mendicants were allowed in former times, very likely
    from the very days of Buddha, to retire into the houses of
    friends and supporters, from which they went forth occasionally
    begging their food. In the beginning, those who were admitted in
    the society did not live in community, as was afterwards done in
    those countries where Buddhism has been of a long time in a
    flourishing condition. They were allowed to withdraw into
    solitude, and lead an ascetic life, or to travel from one place
    to another to preach the law and make converts. This work could
    not be well done during the rainy season. Hence the disciples,
    while as yet few in number, gathered round their master during
    that period to hear instructions from him, and practise virtue
    under his immediate superintendence. They lived with him during
    all the time the rainy season lasted. This was called to spend
    the season. In the course of this Legend, the same expression is
    often met with. It is said of Buddha that he spent a season in
    such a place, another in another place, to indicate that he
    stayed in one place during the rainy season, which precluded the
    possibility of doing the duties of an itinerant preacher.

    When the religious order became regularly constituted, and the
    basis it was to stand on was fairly laid down, the
    ever-increasing number of members made them feel the want of
    secluded places where they could live in community, and at the
    same time quite retired from the world. Houses or monasteries
    were erected for receiving the pious Rahans. The inmates of
    those dwellings lived under the direction of a superior,
    devoting their time to study, meditation, and the observances of
    the law. They were allowed to go out in the morning very early,
    to beg and collect the food they wanted for the day. Such is the
    state the religious are living in up to our own time in Burmah,
    Ceylon, Thibet, Siam, and in the other countries where Buddhism
    has been firmly established.

    The religious season, or lent, lasts three months. It begins in
    the full moon of Watso (July) and ends at the full moon of
    Thadinkiout (October). The keeping of the season in Burmah is as
    follows:--On the days of the new and full moon crowds of people
    resort to the pagodas, carrying offerings of flowers, small
    candles, oil, &c. A great many are found to spend the night in
    the bungalows erected, chiefly for that purpose, in their
    immediate vicinity. Women occupy bungalows separated from those
    of men. It must be admitted that there, as in churches, they far
    outnumber the men. On such occasions, religion appears to be
    rather the pretext than the real object of such assemblies. With
    the exception of old men and women, who are heard to converse on
    religious topics, and repeat some parts of the law, or recite
    some praises in honour of Buddha, the others seem to care very
    little for religion. The younger portion of the weaker sex
    freely indulge in the pleasure of conversation. It is quite a
    treat to them to have such a fine opportunity of giving full
    scope to their talkative powers. During that season the pious
    faithful are charitably inclined to bestow alms on the Rahans.
    All the necessaries of life pour with abundance and profusion
    into the monasteries. Besides alms-giving and resorting to the
    pagodas, some fervent laymen practise abstinence and fasting to
    a certain extent; these, however, are but few. During that
    period the Buddhist recluses are often invited to go to certain
    places, prepared for the purpose, to preach the law to and
    receive alms from crowds of hearers who are gathered thither on
    such occasions. Talapoins are generally seated on an elevated
    platform, facing the congregation; they keep their large fans
    before the face through modesty, to save themselves from the
    danger of looking on some tempting object. They repeat in chorus
    certain passages of the life of Buddha, enumerate the five great
    precepts and other observances of the law. The whole preaching
    generally goes on in Pali, that is to say, in a language unknown
    to the congregation. When they have done their duty they
    withdraw, followed by a great number of their disciples,
    carrying back to the monasteries all the offerings made by the
    faithful. It happens also, although but seldom in our days, that
    some fervent recluses withdraw during the whole or a part of the
    lent season into solitary places, living by themselves, and
    devoting all their time to reading the books of the law, and
    meditating on the most important points and maxims of religion.


    [12] The remarks of the Burmese translator afford me an
    opportunity of explaining one of the leading tenets of the
    Buddhistic creed. All beings in this world are subjected to the
    double influence of their merits and demerits. The good
    influence predominates when the sum of merits surpasses that of
    demerits, and it is superseded by the latter when the contrary
    takes place. This principle once admitted, Buddhists explain the
    good or evil that befalls every individual in every conceivable
    state of existence. Is a man dead, he is attended on his way to
    another state of being both by his merits and demerits, who,
    like two inseparable companions, follow him whithersoever he
    goes. Should the sum of demerits prove greater, he is forced
    into hell, or into some other state of punishment, to bear
    sufferings proportionately to his offences, until he has fully
    paid off his debt, or, to speak the language of Buddhists, until
    the sum of his demerits be quite exhausted. If, on the contrary,
    at the moment of his death the influence of merits be the
    strongest, he is directed into a state of happiness, pleasure,
    and enjoyment, say in one of the seats of Nats or Brahmas, and
    remains there as long as the action of the good influence lasts.
    When it is over he comes again into the abode of man, or in a
    state of probation, when he has to labour anew for amassing new
    and greater merits, that will hereafter entitle him to a higher
    reward than the one he had previously enjoyed. From the
    foregoing observations it is evident that the idea of a Supreme
    Being rewarding the good and punishing the wicked is carefully
    excluded, and all foreign interference on this subject entirely
    done away with. Another conclusion flowing from the same source
    is, that there is no eternity of reward or punishment, but both
    last for a longer or shorter period, in proportion to the sum of
    merits and demerits, and consequently to the power of each
    influence respectively.

    It may be asked what becomes of the sum of demerits and its
    consequent evil influence, whilst the superior good influence
    prevails? The sum of demerits remains all the while entire and
    undiminished; the operation of the evil influence is suspended,
    and has no power whatever, its own being checked by a greater
    one. But the sum of merits being exhausted, and its inherent
    action at an end, the opposite one is set at liberty, and acts
    on the individual proportionately to its own strength, and lasts
    until it is all exhausted. As man can never be without some
    merits or demerits, good or bad deeds, he must be either in a
    state of reward or punishment; this is, if I may say so, the
    mainspring that moves all beings into the whirlpool of countless
    existences, wherein they meet happiness or unhappiness according
    to their deserts. The being that tends strongly and
    perseveringly through his various existences towards perfection,
    weakens gradually, and finally destroys in himself the law of
    demerits; he ascends steadily the steps of the ladder of
    perfection by the practice of the highest virtues. Having
    reached its summit, there is no more reason for his going
    through other existences, and he steps at once into the state of
    Neibban.

    On the above principle Buddhists account for all the various
    phases of human existence. Is a child born from rich, great, and
    distinguished parents, does he become a wealthy and powerful
    man, does he become a king or a nobleman, &c.--he is indebted
    for all that to merits acquired during former existences. Is
    another child born in a low, poor, and wretched condition, is he
    born with bodily or intellectual defects and imperfections, &c.,
    &c.--his former demerits are the principle and cause of all his
    subsequent misfortunes.

    The doctrine of merits and demerits, and of their concomitant
    influences, has been fully illustrated in the person of Buddha
    himself during his former existences. He said of himself to his
    disciples that he had passed with various fortune through the
    range of the animal kingdom, from the dove to the elephant; that
    being man he had been often in hell, and in various positions of
    riches and poverty, greatness and meanness, until by his mighty
    efforts he at last freed himself from all evil influence, and
    reached his present state of perfection. He is supposed to have
    recounted to his disciples on different occasions five hundred
    and ten of his former existences.

    [13] It has been asserted in a former note that the preachings
    of Buddha were accompanied with miracles, to impart an
    additional weight and an irresistible evidence to his doctrines.
    This assertion is fully corroborated by all the particulars
    attending the conversion of the three Kathabas and their
    disciples. On this occasion Buddha met with the greatest amount
    of stubborn resistance on the part of Ooroowela Kathaba. There
    is no doubt but our great preacher resorted to every means of
    persuasion to carry conviction to the mind of his distinguished
    hearer. He had, however, to deal with a man full of his own
    merits and excellence, who thought himself far superior to every
    one else. His best arguments proved powerless before a
    self-conceited individual, who was used to give and not to
    receive instruction, and enjoyed a far-famed celebrity. Buddha
    was compelled to resort to his unbounded power of working
    miracles, and with it overcame at last the obstinate and blind
    resistance of the proud Rathee. No conquest had ever been so
    dearly bought; but it proved well worth the extraordinary
    efforts made to obtain it. Kathaba became one of the most
    staunch adherents of Buddha, and one of the most fervent
    disciples, who laboured hard for the propagation of Buddhism. He
    is the most celebrated of all Buddhistic monks, and to his name
    is ever prefixed the distinguished epithet of Maha, which means
    great. After Gaudama's demise, he became the patriarch of the
    Buddhists. By his care and exertions, a council of five hundred
    Rahans was assembled at Radzagio, under the reign of King
    Adzatathat, to condemn the unbecoming language used by some
    false or imperfectly taught converts, who wished to shake off,
    on many points, the authority of Buddha.

    In the episode of the conversion of the three Kathabas, the
    attentive reader cannot fail to have observed one particular
    that throws some light on the position several heads of
    philosophical schools occupied in the days that saw the origin
    of Buddhism. Those sages lived in retired places, far from the
    bustle and tumult of the world. It is probable that at first
    they were alone, or with but a few other individuals who
    delighted in the same mode of life. Their time was entirely
    taken up with study and meditation. The object of their studies
    and reflections was the boundless field of metaphysics and
    morals. Their diet was plain, and their abstemiousness carried
    to a degree Hindu devotees and fanatics are alone capable of
    reaching. The fame of the proficiency of some of those
    individuals in science and virtue soon attracted to their
    solitude numbers of pupils, eager to place themselves under the
    tuition and discipline of masters so eminent in every respect.
    The three Kathabas must have been celebrated throughout the
    country, since we find them at the head of so many disciples.
    Humility has never been the _forte_ of the heathen sages, either
    in or out of India. Conceit and self-esteem were fostered in
    their souls by the consciousness of their own superiority and
    excellence, by the praises lavished on them by their disciples,
    and not a little by the seclusion from society to which they
    voluntarily resigned themselves. Spiritual pride, like a cunning
    foe, occupied in the heart the place vacated by passions of a
    coarser nature and less delicate tinge. The conduct of the elder
    Kathaba fully bears out the truth and correctness of the above
    assertion.




CHAPTER VII.

    _Buddha's sermon on the mountain -- Interview of Buddha and King
    Pimpathara in the vicinity of the city of Radzagio -- Answer of
    Kathaba to Buddha's interrogation -- Instructions delivered to
    the king and his attendants -- Solemn entry of Buddha into
    Radzagio -- Donation of the Weloowon monastery to Buddha --
    Conversion of Thariputra and Maukalan -- The Rahans are keenly
    taunted by the people of Radzagio._


Accompanied by his thousand followers, Phra went to the village of
Gayathitha. This village stands on the bank of the river Gaia. Close to
it, there is a mountain resembling in appearance an elephant's head. On
the top of the mountain stands a large rock, wide enough to accommodate
Buddha and all his attendants. He ascended the mountain with his
disciples, and, having reached its summit, sat down. Summoning all his
disciples, he said to them: "Beloved Bickus, all that is to be met with
in the three abodes of men, Nats, and Brahmas, is like a burning flame.
But why is it so? Because the eyes are a burning flame; the objects
perceived by the eyes, the view of those objects, the feeling created by
that view, are all like a burning flame. The sensations produced by the
eyes cause a succession of pleasant and painful feelings, but these are
likewise a burning flame. What are the causes productive of such a
burning? It is the fire of concupiscence, of anger, of ignorance, of
birth, of death, of old age, and of anxiety. Again, the ear is a burning
flame; the sounds, the perception of the sounds, the sensations caused
by the sounds, are all a burning flame; the pleasure or pain produced by
the sounds are also a burning flame, which is fed by the fire of
concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears,
affliction, and trouble. Again, the sense of smelling is a burning
flame; the odours, the perception of odours, the sensations produced by
odours, are all a burning flame; the pleasure and pain resulting
therefrom are but a burning flame, fed by concupiscence, anger,
ignorance, birth, old age, death, disquietude, tears, affliction, and
sorrow. Again, the taste is a burning flame; the objects tasted, the
perception of those objects, the sensations produced by them, are all a
burning flame, kept up by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance,
birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears, affliction, and sorrow. Again,
the sense of feeling, the objects felt, the perception of those objects,
the sensations produced by them, are a burning flame; the pleasure and
pain resulting therefrom are but a burning flame, fostered by
concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death, anxiety, tears,
affliction, and sorrow. Again, the heart is a burning flame, as well as
all the objects perceived by it, and the sensations produced in it; the
pleasure and pain caused by the heart are too a burning flame, kept up
by the fire of concupiscence, anger, ignorance, birth, old age, death,
disquietude, tears, affliction, and sorrow. Beloved Bickus, they who
understand the doctrine I have preached, and see through it, are full of
wisdom and deserve to be called my disciples. They are displeased with
the senses, the objects of the senses, matter, pleasure and pain, as
well as with all the affections of the heart. They become free from
concupiscence, and therefore exempt from passions. They have acquired
the true wisdom that leads to perfection; they are delivered at once
from the miseries of another birth. Having practised the most excellent
works, nothing more remains to be performed by them. They want no more
the guidance of the sixteen laws, for they have reached far beyond
them."[1]

Having thus spoken, Buddha remained silent. His hearers felt themselves
wholly disentangled from the trammels of passion, and disengaged from
all affections to material objects, and they who had been but Rahans
became Rahandas.

Whilst the most excellent Phra was enjoying himself in the place of
Gayathitha, he recollected that, at the time when he was but a
Phralaong, being near the mountain Pantawa, he had received from King
Pimpathara an invitation to come to his own country and preach the law.
Accompanied with his thousand Rahandas, he set out for the country of
Radzagio. Having arrived at a small distance from the royal city he went
to the Latti grove, about three gawots from Radzagio, a place planted
with palm trees. The king, having heard of his arrival, said to his
people: "The descendant of a long succession of illustrious princes, the
great Rahan Gaudama, has entered into our country, and is now in the
grove of palm trees, in the garden of Tandiwana." The happy news was
soon re-echoed throughout the country. The people said among themselves:
"The great Gaudama is come indeed. He is perfectly acquainted with all
that relates to the three states of men, Nats, and Brahmas; he preaches
a sublime and lovely law; the morals that he announces are pure, like a
shell newly cleansed." Pimpathara, placing himself at the head of
120,000 warriors, surrounded by crowds of nobles and Pounhas, went to
the garden of Tandiwana, where Phra was seated in the middle of his
disciples. He paid his respects by prostrating himself before him, and
then withdrew to a becoming distance. The countless crowd followed the
example of their monarch, and seated themselves at a becoming distance.
Some of them remained conversing with Buddha, and heard from him words
worthy to be ever remembered; some others, having their hands joined to
the forehead, remained in a respectful attitude; some were praising his
illustrious ancestors; others remained modestly silent. All of them,
perceiving the three Kathabas close to the person of Phra, doubted
whether Gaudama was their disciple, or they, his disciples. Buddha,
seeing at once what thought occupied the mind of the warriors, noblemen,
and Pounhas, addressed the elder Kathaba, called Ooroowela Kathaba, and
said to him: "Kathaba, you who lived formerly in the solitude of of
Ooroowela, answer the question I am now putting to you. You were
formerly a teacher of Rathees, who practised works of great
mortification, to such an extent that their bodies were emaciated by
self-inflicted penances: what has induced you to give up the sacrifices
you were wont to make?" "Blessed Buddha," answered Kathaba, "I have
observed that exterior objects, the sounds, the taste, the gratification
of the senses, are but miserable filth; and, therefore, I take no more
delight in the offering of small and great sacrifices." Buddha replied,
"Kathaba, if you be no longer pleased with what is beautiful to the
eyes, pleasant to the ear, palatable to the taste, and agreeable to the
gratification of the senses, in what do you presently find pleasure and
delight?" Kathaba answered, "Blessed Buddha, the state of Neibban is a
state of rest, but that rest cannot be found as long as we live under
the empire of senses and passions. That rest excludes existence, birth,
old age, and death; the great mental attainments alone lead thereto. I
know and see that happy state. I long for it. I am, therefore,
displeased with the making of great and small sacrifices." Having thus
spoken, Kathaba rose up, worshipped Buddha by prostrating himself before
him, and touching with his forehead the extremities of his feet, and
said, "O most excellent Buddha, you are my teacher, and I am your
disciple." All the people, seeing what Kathaba had done, knew that he
was practising virtue under the direction of Gaudama.[2] Phra, who was
acquainted with their innermost thoughts, knew that they were longing to
hear the preaching of the law. As he had always done, he began to preach
to them the virtue of liberality in almsgiving, and then unfolded before
them, with matchless eloquence, the advantages of leaving the world, &c.
The hearers felt an inward delight in all that was said to them.
Observing the favourable impression made upon them, Gaudama continued to
instruct them on the four laws, regarding the miseries of this world,
the passions, the practice of excellent works, and the ways to
perfection. At the conclusion of these instructions, the king and
100,000 of the assembly, like a piece of white cloth which, when plunged
into dye, retains the colour it receives, obtained instantly the state
Thautapan.[3] As to the 10,000 remaining hearers, they believed in the
three precious things in the capacity of Upathakas.

The ruler of the country of Magataritz, King Pimpathara, having obtained
the state of Thautapan, said to Gaudama, "Illustrious Buddha, some years
ago, when I was but a crown prince of this country, I entertained five
desires, which were all happily accomplished. Here are the five
desires--I wished to become king; I desired that the Phra, worthy of
receiving the homage of all men, should come into my kingdom; that I
might have the privilege of approaching him; that he might preach his
doctrine to me; and, finally, that I might thoroughly understand all his
preaching. These five wishes have been fully realised. Your law, O most
excellent Buddha, is a most perfect law. To what shall I liken it as
regards the happy results it produces? It is like replacing on its
proper basis a vase that was bottom upwards, or setting to light objects
hitherto buried in deep darkness; it is an excellent guide that shows
out the right way; it is like a brilliant light, shining forth and
dispelling darkness. Now I take refuge in you, your law, and the
assembly of the perfect. Henceforth I will be your supporter, and
to-morrow I will supply you and your disciples with all that is
necessary for the support of nature." Buddha, by his silence, testified
his acceptance of the offered favour. Whereupon the king rose up,
prostrated himself before him, and, turning on the right, left the
place, and returned to his palace.

Early in the morning Pimpathara ordered all sorts of eatables to be
prepared. Meanwhile he sent messengers to Buddha to inform him that his
meal was ready. Buddha, rising up, put on his dress, and, carrying his
patta, set out for Radzagio, followed by his one thousand disciples. At
that time a prince of Thagias, assuming the appearance of a handsome
young man, walked a little distance in front of Buddha, singing to his
praise several stanzas. "Behold the most excellent is advancing towards
Radzagio with his one thousand disciples. In his soul he is full of
meekness and amiability; he is exempt from all passions; his face is
beautiful, and shines forth like the star Thigi; he has escaped out of
the whirlpool of existences, and delivered himself from the miseries of
transmigration. He is on his way to the city of Radzagio attended by a
thousand Rahandas." (The same stanza is thrice repeated.) "He who has
obtained the perfection of Ariahs, who has practised the ten great
virtues, who has a universal knowledge, who knows and preaches the law
of merits, who discovers at once the sublime attainments, the most
perfect being, the most excellent, is entering into the city of Radzagio
attended by a thousand Rahandas."

The inhabitants of the city, seeing the beautiful appearance of that
young man, and hearing all that he was singing aloud, said to each
other, "Who is that young man whose countenance is so lovely, and whose
mouth proclaims such wonderful things?" The Thagia, hearing what was
said of him, replied, "O children of men! the most excellent Phra whom
you see is gifted with an incomparable wisdom; all perfections are in
him; he is free of all passions; no being can ever be compared to him;
he is worthy to receive the homage and respect of men and Nats; his
unwavering mind is ever fixed in truth; he announces a law extending to
all things. As for me, I am but his humble servant."[4]

Having reached the king's palace, Buddha was received with every
demonstration of respect, and led to the place prepared for him.
Pimpathara thought within himself of the thing which could prove
acceptable to Phra, in order to offer it to him. He said within himself,
"My garden, which is situated near the city, would doubtless be a very
fit place for Buddha and his followers to live in. As it lies not far
from the city, it would be a place of easy resort to all those who
should feel inclined to visit Buddha and pay him their respects; it is,
moreover, far enough off, so that the noise and cries of the people
could not be heard therein. The place is peculiarly fitted for retreat
and contemplation; it will assuredly prove agreeable to Buddha."
Whereupon he rose up, and, holding in his hand a golden shell like a
cup, he made to Phra a solemn offering of that garden which was called
Weloowon.[5] Gaudama remained silent, in token of his acceptance of the
gift. He preached the law and left the palace. At that time he called
his disciples and said to them, "Beloved Rahans, I give you permission
to receive offerings."

In the country of Radzagio there was a heterodox Rahan named Thindzi,
who had under him five hundred and fifty disciples. Thariputra and
Maukalan were at that time practising virtue under the guidance of that
master. Here is the way they became Rahans. When they were but laymen,
under the names of Oopathi and Kaulita, on a certain day, surrounded by
two hundred and twenty companions, they went to the top of a lofty
mountain to enjoy the sight of countless multitudes of people sporting
and playing in the surrounding flat country. While they were gazing over
the crowds of human beings they said to each other, "In a hundred years
hence all these living beings shall have fallen a prey to death."
Whereupon they rose up and left the place, but their minds were deeply
preoccupied with the idea of death. While the two friends were walking
silently together, they began at last to communicate to each other the
result of their reflections. "If there be," said they, "a principle of
death, a universal tendency towards destruction, there must be, too, its
opposite principle, that of not dying and escaping destruction." On that
very instant they resolved to search ardently for the excellent law that
teaches the way of not dying, and obtain the state of perfect fixity and
immutability. In those parts there lived six heterodox teachers who were
named Mekkali, Gau, Sala, Thindzi, Jani, and Ganti; among them Thindzi
was the only one who, with his disciples, wore white clothes. They went
to the place where lived the Rahan Thindzi, placed themselves under his
direction, and put on the dress of Rahan. Within three days they
acquired the science, wisdom, and knowledge of their teacher without
having as yet reached the object of their eager pursuit. They said to
Thindzi, "Teacher, is this all that you know? And have you no other
science to teach us?" "I have indeed," replied the teacher, "taught you
all the knowledge I possess." Finding nothing satisfactory in the
answer, the two friends said, "Let us continue seeking for the law that
has reality in itself; the first that shall have discovered it shall,
without delay, communicate it to the other."

On a certain morning one of Gaudama's disciples named Athadzi, having
put on his religious habit, and carrying his patta on his left arm, went
out to receive his rice. Everything about his person was noble and
graceful; his countenance and behaviour were at once gentle and
dignified, whether he walked or stopped, looked forward to the right or
the left, or sat in a cross-legged position. The false Rahan Oopathi,
who became afterwards Thariputra, perceiving the Rahan Athadzi with such
a meek and dignified deportment, said to himself, "Such a Rahan is
assuredly worthy to receive offerings: he has doubtless attained
perfection. I will go to him and ask him, in case he has had a teacher,
who is that distinguished instructor under whom he practises virtue; and
in case of his being himself a teacher, what is the doctrine that he
teaches. But it is not becoming to put to him any question whilst he is
on his way to beg alms. I will follow at a distance." Athadzi, having
collected alms, left the city and went to a small dzeat, where he sat
down and ate his meal. Oopathi followed him thither. Having entered into
the dzeat, he rendered to him the services that a disciple usually pays
to his teacher. When the meal of Athadzi was over, he poured water over
his hands, and with a heart overflowing with joy, he conversed with him
for a while. He withdrew then to a becoming distance, and addressed him
as follows: "Great Rahan, your exterior is full of meekness and
benevolence; your countenance bespeaks the purity and innocence of your
soul; if you be a disciple, pray under what teacher have you become a
Rahan? Who is your guide in the way to perfection? and what is the
doctrine he is preaching to you?" "Young Rahan," replied Athadzi, "have
you not heard of the illustrious Buddha, the descendant of a long
succession of great monarchs, who has entered the profession of Rahan? I
have become Rahan under him; he is my teacher; to his doctrine I cling
with all the energy of my soul." "What is the doctrine of that great
master?" asked Oopathi. "I am but a novice in the profession," replied
modestly Athadzi, "and am as yet imperfectly acquainted with the
doctrine of my teacher. The little, however, I know, I will freely
communicate to you." Oopathi entreated him to do so. Athadzi replied,
"The law which I have learned at the feet of Buddha explains all that
relates to matter, to the principles that act upon it, to passions, and
to the mind; it makes man despise all that is material, conquer his
passions, and regulate his mind." On hearing this doctrine, Oopathi felt
the ties of passions gradually relaxing and giving way; his soul became,
as it were, disentangled from the influence of the senses. He became
enamoured with such a pure and perfect law, and obtained the condition
of Thautapan. Convinced that he had at last found what he had hitherto
searched after in vain, the law of Neibban, he went without delay to his
friend, to make him share in the beneficial result of his fortunate
discovery. Kaulita, perceiving his friend coming up to him with a
rejoicing countenance, indicative of the happiness his soul was inwardly
enjoying, asked him if he had found what he had hitherto vainly looked
for. Oopathi related to him all the particulars of his conversation with
the Rahan Athadzi. Whereupon Kaulita became instantly a Thautapan. Both
resolved to leave their teacher Thindzi, and go immediately to place
themselves under the guidance of Buddha. Three times they applied for
permission to execute their design, and three times it was denied them.
At last they departed, each with his two hundred and twenty companions.
Thindzi, enraged at being left alone, died, vomiting blood from his
mouth.

When the two friends and their followers were drawing near to the place
of Weloowon, Phra assembled all his disciples and said to them, "Behold
these two friends coming up to me; they will become my two beloved
disciples; their minds are acute and penetrating; they actually take
delight in the law of Neibban; their thoughts are converging towards
that great centre of truth; they come to me, and they will become my two
most excellent disciples." While he was speaking, the two friends
crossed the threshold of the monastery, and prostrated themselves at the
feet of Buddha, humbly craving the favour of being admitted among his
disciples to practise virtue under his immediate direction. On this
occasion Phra uttered the following words: "O Bickus, come to me; I
preach the most excellent law: apply yourselves to the practice of the
most perfect works, which will put an end to all miseries." A suit of
dress and a patta were handed to each of the two friends, that were
henceforth to be called Thariputra and Maukalan, and they became members
of the assembly. Having put on the new dress, they appeared to the eyes
of all with the decent and dignified deportment of Rahans that had sixty
years of profession. Their followers became Bickus of the second order.
Seven days after, Maukalan became a Rahanda; but it took fifteen days
for Thariputra to obtain the same favour. The two new converts were
elevated to the dignity of disciples of the right and of the left; that
is to say, they obtained precedence over all others.

The distinction thus granted to Thariputra and Maukalan excited a
feeling of jealousy among the disciples of Buddha. In their
conversations they complained to each other of the preference given to
those who had just been admitted among the members of assembly. They
went so far as to say that Buddha had acted in this case under the
influence of human considerations. These remarks were brought to the
notice of Buddha, who assembled his disciples, and said to them,
"Beloved Bickus, my conduct in this instance has not been guided by
unworthy motives; I have acted as I ought to have done. In the days of
the Phra Anaumadathi, the two friends were leading the life of ascetics.
They paid the greatest respect and veneration to the then existing
Buddha, and entreated him, by repeated supplications, to hold out to
them the solemn promise that they would become the disciples of the
right and of the left of some future Buddha. Anaumadathi replied to them
that the object of their wishes should be granted unto them when the
Buddha Gaudama would appear in the world. This is, beloved Bickus, the
reason that has influenced me in elevating to the first rank the two new
converts." The answer completely satisfied the disciples, and
effectually silenced all murmurs. Further particulars regarding the
promise that these two illustrious friends received in the time of the
Buddha Anaumadathi may be read, with circumstantial details, in the book
called Apadan-tera.

The inhabitants of the Magatha country, seeing that so many persons,
chiefly belonging to the first families, were embracing the profession
of Rahans, said amongst themselves, "Behold how the Rahan Gaudama, by
his preachings, causes the depopulation of the country, and forces
countless wives to the unwished-for state of widowhood. A thousand
Rathees have embraced the profession of Rahans; all the disciples of
Thindzi have followed their example; many others will soon tread in
their footsteps. What will become of our country?" With these and other
expressions, they gave vent to their hatred of the Rahans, and
endeavoured to pour over them all kinds of ridicule and abuse. They
concluded by saying, "The great Rahan has come to the city of Radzagio,
which is like a cow-pen, surrounded by five hills;[6] he has now with
him the disciples of Thindzi; who will be the next to go to him?" The
Rahans, hearing all that was said against them, went to Buddha and
related to him all that they had heard. To console them, Buddha said,
"Beloved Bickus, the abuses, sarcasms, and ridicule levelled at you
shall not last long; seven days hence all shall be over. Here is the
reply you will make to the revilers: Like all his predecessors, Buddha
is striving to preach a most perfect law; by the means of the truths
which he proclaims for the benefit of all, he brings men over to
himself. What shall it avail any man to feel envious at the success he
obtains by so legitimate a means?" The same torrent of ridicule having
been poured on the Rahans, when they went out, they followed the advice
of their great teacher, replied in the manner they had been taught to
do, and the storm was soon over. The people understood that the great
Rahan was preaching a perfect law, and that he never resorted but to
fair means to attract disciples round his person. Here ends the
narrative of the conversion and vocation of Thariputra and Maukalan.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] The philosophical discourse of Buddha on the mountain may be
    considered as the summary of his theory of morals. It is
    confessedly very obscure and much above the ordinary level of
    the human understanding. The hearers whom he addressed were
    persons already trained up to his teaching, and therefore
    prepared for understanding such doctrines. Had he spoken in that
    abstruse style to common people, it is certain he would have
    missed his aim and exposed himself to the chance of not being
    understood. But he addressed a select audience, whose minds were
    fully capable of comprehending his most elevated doctrines. He
    calls his disciples Bickus, or mendicants, to remind them of the
    state of voluntary poverty they had embraced when they became
    his followers, and to impress their minds with contempt for the
    riches and pleasures of this world.

    He lays it down as a great and general principle that all that
    exists resembles a flame that dazzles the eyes by its brilliancy
    and torments by its burning effects. Here appears the favourite
    notion of Buddhism that there is nothing substantial and real in
    this world, and that the continual changes and vicissitudes we
    are exposed to are the cause of painful sensations. Buddha
    reviews the six senses (the heart, according to his theory, is
    the seat of a sixth sense) in succession, and as they are the
    channels through which affections are produced on the soul, he
    compares to a burning flame the organs of the senses, the
    various objects of the action of the senses, the results painful
    or agreeable produced by them. Hence he fulminates a general and
    sweeping condemnation against all that exists out of man. The
    senses, being the means through which matter influences the
    soul, share in the universal doom. Buddha sets forth the causes
    productive of that burning flame. They are--first, the three
    great and general principles of demerits, viz., concupiscence,
    anger, and ignorance. In the book of Ethics these three
    principles are explained at great length; they are represented
    as the springs from which flow all other passions. In a
    lengthened digression the author aims at simplifying the
    question, and endeavours to show, by a logical process, that
    ignorance is the head source from which concupiscence and
    passion take their rise. It is, therefore, according to
    Buddhists, into the dark recess of ignorance that metaphysicians
    must penetrate in order to discover the first cause of all moral
    disorders. Every being has his mind more or less encompassed by
    a thick mist that prevents him from seeing truth. He mistakes
    good for evil, right for wrong; he erroneously clings to
    material objects that have no reality, no substance, no
    consistence; his passions are kept alive by his love or hatred
    of vain illusions. The flame is, moreover, fed by birth, old
    age, death, afflictions, &c., which are as many _foci_ wherefrom
    radiate out on all surrounding objects fires which keep up the
    general conflagration. But they play only a secondary action,
    dependent on the three great causes of all evils just alluded
    to. What causes birth, old age, and death? inquires the
    Buddhist. The law of merits and demerits is the immediate answer
    to the question; it might be added thereto, the necessity of
    acquiring merits and gravitating towards perfection. A man is
    born to innumerable succeeding existences by virtue of his
    imperfections, and that he might acquire fresh merits by the
    practice of virtue. By birth, a being is ushered into a new
    existence or into a new state, where the burning flame which is
    supposed to spread over all that exists exercises its teasing
    and tormenting influence over him. Old age and death are two
    periods when a radical change operates upon a being, and places
    him in a different situation where he experiences the baneful
    effects of the conflagration. "Blessed are they," says Buddha,
    "who understand this; they are full of wisdom; they become
    displeased with all passions and with all the things they act
    upon. The causes of existences being done away with, they have
    reached the terminus of all possible existences; one step more
    and they find themselves placed beyond the influence of the
    power of attraction that retains forcibly all beings in the
    vortex of existences, and brings them towards the centre of
    perfection; they are in fact entering into the state of
    Neibban."

    [2] From the purport of Kathaba's reply to Buddha's question, it
    may be inferred with certainty that the Rathees were in the
    habit of making sacrifices or burnt-offerings. These sacrifices
    again were distinguished into two classes; the one, including
    the small or daily ones, and the other, the great
    burnt-offerings, made on solemn occasions. That these sacrifices
    were not performed by the killing and immolating of animals,
    there can be no doubt, as such an act would have been contrary
    to the tender regard they always had for the life of animals.
    The institutes of Menu come to our help to elucidate this point.
    The Brahmin is enjoined, according to that compilation of laws,
    to make burnt-offerings of clarified butter and other articles
    to the manes of his ancestors. Agreeably to this regulation,
    Kathaba performed those rites, which, in the opinion of Buddha,
    were perfectly useless, since they could not be the means of
    elevating the performer to the knowledge and perfection
    requisite for obtaining what he always calls _per excellence_
    the deliverance.

    Kathaba is rather obscure in his answer. It seems that he
    intended to acknowledge that, notwithstanding the sacrifices and
    burnt-offerings he had made, and upon the value of which he had
    laid much stress, concupiscence and other vicious propensities
    were still deeply rooted in him; that, through the channel of
    his senses, exterior objects continued to make impressions on
    his soul. He had, therefore, become disgusted with practices
    which could not free him from the action and influence of
    passions and matter.

    In the opinion of Buddha, the observance of exterior religious
    rites can never elevate man to the sublime knowledge of pure
    truth, which alone does confer real perfection to him who has
    become a true sage, and is deemed worthy of obtaining the
    deliverance. A serious application of the mind to the meditation
    of the law and the nature of beings, is the only way leading to
    the acquirement of true wisdom. As long as Kathaba was contented
    with material acts of worship, and his mind's attention was
    engrossed with those vain ceremonials, he had not as yet entered
    in the way of perfection. He had hitherto missed the true path;
    he had wandered in the broad road of error, encompassed by
    mental darkness, and deceived by perpetual illusions. His
    extensive knowledge had served but to lead him in the wrong
    direction. He wanted the guidance of Buddha to enable him to
    retrace his steps and find the right way. He had to become
    sensible of the truth of the great fundamental maxims of all
    real wisdom, viz., that in this world all is subjected to change
    and to pain; and that all beings are mere illusions, destitute
    of all reality.

    [3] To complete what has already been stated respecting the
    Ariahs or venerables in a foregoing note, the following is
    added. The reader must bear in mind that the Ariahs are divided
    into four classes, named--Thautapan, Thakadagam, Anagam, and
    Arahats, and according to the particular position occupied by
    the beings of those states, each class is subdivided into two:
    Thus, for instance, Thautapatti Megata means he who has entered
    and is walking, as it were, in the way of the perfection of
    Thautapan; and Thautapatti-pho indicates those who enjoy the
    merits and blessings of the state of Thautapan; and so with the
    three superior stages of perfection. To obtain the state of
    Thautapan, a man must have left the direction followed up by all
    creatures and entered into the direction or way that leads to
    deliverance. He will have yet to go through 80,000 kaps or
    durations of worlds, and must be born seven times more in the
    state of man and Nat before he be a perfected being, ripe for
    the state of Neibban. Those who have reached the state of
    Thakadagam shall have to pass through 60,000 kaps, and be born
    once in the state of Nat and once in the state of man, before
    they be perfected. Those who have obtained the third step of
    Anagam have to travel through 40,000 kaps, and are no more to
    undergo the process of birth at the end of that period they are
    perfected. The fourth stage of perfection, that of Arahat, is
    the highest a being can ever obtain. The fortunate Arahat is
    gifted with supernatural powers. At the end of 20,000 kaps he is
    perfected, and reaches the state of deliverance. Those four
    states are often called the four great roads leading to
    deliverance or to Neibban. It may be asked whether the state of
    Thautapan is the first step reached by every one that adheres to
    Buddha's doctrines or whether it is the one that requires a
    certain progress in the way of believing and practising? It
    seems, from the narrative of the conversion of King Pimpathara
    and his followers, that the state of Thautapan is the reward of
    those who have shown a more than common proficiency and fervour
    in adhering to Buddha and his doctrines, but not the first step
    to enter into the assembly of the faithful and become a member
    thereof. One may be a simple hearer, or Upathaka, believing in
    the three precious things, without attaining that of Thautapan.
    On this occasion, the king and 100,000 of his warriors and
    noblemen became Thautapans, whereas the remaining 10,000 became
    believers and members of the assembly without reaching any
    further. The first entered into the stream or current leading to
    perfection. The latter were fervent believers, observed the five
    precepts, but in no way aspired to the attainment of the
    doctrines of a higher order.

    [4] Is not that young man doing the duty of forerunner of Buddha
    on the occasion of his solemn entry into the city of Radzagio?

    The narrative of the donation of the grove or garden of Weloowon
    by King Pimpathara to Buddha, discloses the manner in which
    Buddhistic monks have become holders, not as individuals, but as
    members of society, of landed properties. Buddha and his
    disciples at first had no place as a body or a society to live
    in; hitherto he had taken up his quarters in any place where
    people were willing to receive him. He must have often been put
    to great inconvenience, particularly after the accession of new
    disciples, who daily crowded about him. The pious king felt the
    disadvantage the society was labouring under: he resolved to
    give them a place where the assembly might live and remain. The
    donation was as solemn as possible. It transferred to Buddha the
    property of the garden, without any condition, for ever. The
    donation, on the other hand, was fully accepted. This is, I
    believe, the first instance of an act of this description. The
    grove and monastery of Weloowon is much celebrated in Buddha's
    life.

    In Burmese towns a particular spot is allowed for the building
    of houses or monasteries for Buddhistic recluses or monks. It is
    somewhat isolated from all other buildings, and forms, as it
    were, the quarter of the yellow-dressed personages. Here is a
    general description of one of these buildings. They are of an
    oblong-square shape, raised about eight or ten feet above the
    ground, and supported on wooden posts, and sometimes, though
    seldom, on brick pillars. The frame of the edifice is of wood,
    and planks form the wall. Above the first roof rises a second
    one of smaller dimensions, and a third one, yet smaller than the
    second. This style of roofing a building is allowed only for
    pagodas, Talapoins' houses, and royal palaces. The place between
    the soil and the floor is left open and never converted to any
    use. A flight of steps, made of wood or bricks, leads to the
    entrance of the edifice, the interior whereof is generally
    divided as follows:--One vast hall designed for the reception of
    visitors, and used also as a schoolroom for the boys who go to
    learn the rudiments of reading, writing, and sometimes
    ciphering. Except on grand occasions, the Talapoins generally
    stay in that hall, doing away with their time in the best way
    they can, occasionally reading books, counting their beads,
    chewing betel, and very often sleeping. At the extremity of the
    hall there is a place raised one or two steps above the level. A
    portion of that place is left vacant, and reserved for the
    sittings of the Talapoins, when they receive visitors; the other
    portion, which extends to the wall, is occupied by idols or
    representations of Buddha, raised on pedestals, and sometimes
    placed on shelves, with the few implements required for exterior
    worship. There, too, are to be seen a few trunks ornamented with
    sculptures and gildings, and containing books belonging to the
    monastery. The hall and the place as far as the walls occupy
    just one-half of the oblong-square. The other half, parallel to
    the first, is occupied by rooms intended for the storing of
    alms, and as dormitories for the inmates of the house. In some,
    monasteries the ceiling is painted and partly gilt. The
    cook-room, when there is one, is connected with the extremity of
    the square opposite to the one occupied by the idols. It is
    generally on the same level with the floor of the building.
    Government has nothing to do with the erection, repairs, and
    maintenance of these edifices. They are erected and kept up by
    private individuals, who deem it very meritorious to build such
    places. Those whose piety actuates and prompts them to undertake
    such an expensive work assume the title of Kiaong Taga, which
    means supporter of a pagoda or Talapoins' residence. They are
    proud of such distinction, cause themselves to be called by that
    title, and always make it to follow their names in signing any
    paper or document.

    The above descriptive sketch of a monastery is rather
    incomplete, if applied to those found in the large places of
    Burmah proper, and particularly in the capital. Some of them are
    laid out on a scale of vastness and magnificence difficult to
    realise by those who have not examined them. A large open
    gallery runs all round the building; a second one of a
    rectangular shape, but protected by the roof, forms, as it were,
    on the four sides the _vestibulum_ to the central portion of the
    edifice. It is the place where the Phongies spend the greater
    part of their time, either in talking with the numerous idlers
    that visit them, or in teaching children. Large shutters
    separate this from the open verandah; they may be thrown all
    open by pushing forward the lower part, the upper one remaining
    fixed by hinges, and so may be opened to the height required to
    protect the inmates from the rain and the sun. The central hall,
    by far the finest and loftiest of the building, is reserved for
    the idols and all the implements of worship, and the boxes
    containing the books of the monastery, commonly put together in
    a very disordered way. The ceiling is gilt and adorned, often
    with taste and elegance. A partition divides the hall into two
    equal parts. The one towards the east is for some huge statue of
    Gaudama, and smaller ones with many articles of worship. The
    other, facing the south, is used for several purposes; sometimes
    as dormitories for the Talapoins. The posts supporting the
    interior part are six or eight in number, and offer the finest
    specimens of teak timber I have ever seen, some being fully
    sixty and seventy feet high. In some of these monasteries the
    best parts of the interior are gilt, and sometimes the exterior
    sides; the ornaments of the extremities of the roof and the
    space between the roofs are covered with gold leaves. In those
    two places too are displayed carvings, which reflect great
    credit on the skill of native workmen, and elicit the admiration
    of foreigners. One of these monasteries called the
    kioung-dau-gye, near the place where the Arracan idol is, and
    another close to the place where the supreme head of Talapoins
    is living, are the finest and largest specimens of monasteries
    the writer has ever seen in Burmah.

    [5] On the occasion of the presentation to Buddha of the
    Weloowon monastery, and of the lands attached to it, by King
    Pimpathara, there was observed a curious ceremony, often alluded
    to in Buddhist writings. He held in his hands a golden pitcher
    full of water, which he kept pouring down on the ground, whilst
    he pronounced the formula of donation. This is a ceremony of
    Indian origin, which, with many others, has been imported into
    these parts along with the religious doctrines. It is intended
    to be an exterior sign of, or testimony to, the offering that is
    made on the occasion. When it is performed, the parties
    pronounce a certain formula, calling the Nats, guardians of the
    place, to witness the act of donation, and, in particular, the
    Nat that is supposed to rule over the earth; and at the same
    time the offerer, not satisfied with receiving for his own
    benefit the merits of his pious liberality, expresses the
    earnest desire that all men, or rather all beings, should share
    with him in the blessings he expects to reap from his good deed.
    The generous and liberal disposition of the donor, it may be
    observed, exhibits the truly pleasing display of an amount of
    charity and brotherly love scarcely to be expected from the
    followers of an erroneous creed. The ceremony, therefore, has a
    twofold object, conferring unreserved and absolute efficiency on
    the act of donation, and dividing or apportioning the merits of
    the good work among all beings.

    In perusing attentively the contents of this legend, the reader
    will easily follow the gradual development of the Buddhist
    religious system, and, in particular, the establishment of most
    of the disciplinary regulations in full force in our own days in
    most of the countries where that form of religion has obtained a
    long standing and a predominating footing. At first the
    religious that constituted the body of the followers of Buddha
    were few, and could easily, in the company of their eminent
    teacher, procure, in accordance with the vow of strict poverty
    they had made, shelter, food, and raiment. There was no need for
    them to accept, in the shape of donation, anything beyond what
    was absolutely necessary for the wants of the day. We may
    conjecture that their leader watched with a jealous care over
    his religious on this point, to establish them in the spirit of
    poverty and of a thorough contempt for the things of this world.
    But the society or fraternity growing numerous, the dependence
    on the daily offerings appeared not to meet in sufficient manner
    the real necessities it felt, particularly as regards shelter.
    This want was quickly perceived and keenly felt by the pious
    King Pimpathara, who came to the resolution of presenting Buddha
    and his followers with a proper place to withdraw to at all
    times, but particularly during the wet season, when the pouring
    of the annual rains puts a check of four months to the religious
    peregrinations of the preachers. The same motives that induced
    Buddha to accept the proffered royal gift influenced him
    likewise to grant to his religious the dangerous, it is true,
    but the absolutely necessary permission of receiving offerings
    of houses and lands. From that time, the religious communities
    have made use of the privilege granted to them in all the places
    where they have been established. In Burmah this favour has not
    been abused, and the religious body, though never standing in
    want of anything required for the daily use, cannot be said to
    be wealthy. Having not to cast in the scales of the political
    balance the weight of riches, and the preponderance essentially
    attending the possession of them, their influence in the
    political affairs is not, at least exteriorly, felt.

    [6] In his Archaeological Survey Report, General Cunningham has
    supplied us with an accurate description of the position and
    ruins of the celebrated city of Radzagio. His own measurements
    of the old ramparts, that are still visible, agree to a
    surprising degree with those of the two Chinese pilgrims,
    Fa-Hian and Hwen-Tsan, who visited the same spot in the fourth
    and sixth century of our era. The city was situated in a valley,
    surrounded by five hills, which are named Gigakuta, Isigli,
    Wibhara, Wipula, and Pandawa. It was five miles in
    circumference. This is meant for the circuit of the inner wall.
    The exterior one was nearly nine miles. On the southern face of
    the Wibhara mountain is the famous cave at the entrance of which
    was held the first Buddhist council, not long after the
    cremation of Buddha's remains. There is no doubt that the
    heights were, in the palmy days of Buddhism, covered with
    Buddhistic monuments. As the place was subsequently occupied by
    Brahmins and Mussulmans, the Dzedis and monasteries have been
    mercilessly pulled down to furnish materials for musjids, tombs,
    and temples. The eminences are now covered with Mussulman tombs,
    which occupy the places formerly adorned with pagodas. Springs
    of hot water were numerous in the vicinity of the city. The
    writer has only met once in Buddhistic compositions an allusion
    to that natural phenomenon so beneficial to people living in hot
    climates. The modern Rajghir, both by name and situation, brings
    to our recollection the celebrated capital of Magatha, so famous
    in Buddhistic annals. As the extent of Radzagio has been so
    accurately determined by ancient and modern visitors, one can
    well afford to laugh at the immensely exaggerated number of
    houses that are supposed by certain Burmese writers to have
    composed the city.




CHAPTER VIII.

    _Thoodaudana, desirous to see his son, sends messengers to him
    -- They become converts -- Kaludari, a last messenger, prevails
    on Buddha to go to Kapilawot -- His reception -- Conversion of
    the king and of Yathaudara -- Nanda and Raoula put on the
    religious habit -- Conversion of Ananda and of several of his
    relatives -- Temptation of Ananda -- Conversion of Eggidatta --
    Story of Tsampooka._


Whilst the most excellent Phra remained in the Weloowon monastery,
enjoying himself in the midst of his disciples and the crowds of hearers
that daily resorted thither to listen to his preachings, his father
Thoodaudana[1] who had ever been anxiously and sedulously gathering
every possible information respecting his son, from the time he withdrew
into solitude, and performed during six years the hardest works of
bodily mortification, was then informed that his son had already begun
to preach the most perfect law, and was actually staying in the city of
Radzagio. He felt then an irresistible desire to see him once more
before his death. He therefore ordered a nobleman of his court into his
presence, and said to him: "Nobleman, take with you a retinue of a
thousand followers, and go forthwith to the city of Radzagio. Tell my
son that I am now much advanced in years, that I long to see him once
more before I die; desire him, therefore, to come over with you to the
country of Kapilawot." The nobleman, having received the royal message,
took leave from the king, and attended by a thousand followers, set out
for Radzagio. When he drew near to the Weloowon monastery, he found it
crowded with an innumerable multitude of people, listening with a
respectful attention to Buddha's instructions. Unwilling to disturb the
audience, the nobleman delayed for a while the delivery of his royal
master's message. Halting at the verge of the crowd, he, with his
followers, eagerly lent the utmost attention to all that Buddha was
saying. They at once obtained the state of Arahat, and applied for
admission into the order of Rahans. The favour was granted. To obtain
pattas and tsiwarans for so great a number of applicants, Buddha
stretched his right arm, when there appeared at once the pattas and
dresses required. The new converts put on the dress of their order, when
they all appeared with the dignified countenance and meek deportment of
Rahans who had had sixty years of profession. Having arrived at the
exalted state of Ariahs, they became indifferent and unconcerned about
all the things of this material world, and the king's mandate was
entirely lost sight of.

The sovereign of Kapilawot, seeing that his nobleman did not return
from the country of Magatha,[2] and that no news was heard of him,
despatched a second messenger with an equal number of followers on the
same errand. They all were taken up with Buddha's preachings and became
Rahandas. The same thing happened to seven messengers successively sent
to Radzagio for the same purpose. They, with their respective retinues,
became converts of the first class.

Disappointed at seeing that none of the messengers had returned to bring
him any news regarding his son, King Thoodaudana exclaimed: "Is there no
one in my palace that bears any affection unto me? Shall I not be able
to get a person who could procure for me some information respecting my
son?" He looked among his courtiers and selected one, named Kaludari, as
the fittest person for such a difficult errand. Kaludari had been born
on the same day as Buddha: with him he had spent the age of his infancy,
and lived on terms of the most sincere friendship. The king said to him:
"Noble Kaludari, you know how earnestly I long to see my son. Nine
messengers have already been sent to the city of Radzagio to invite my
son to come over to me, and none of them has as yet come back to me, to
bring information respecting the object of my tenderest affections. I am
old now, and the end of my existence is quite uncertain; could you not
undertake to bring my son over to me? Whether you become Rahan or not,
let me have the happiness of contemplating once more my beloved son ere
I leave this world." The nobleman promised to the king to comply with
his royal order. Attended by a retinue of a thousand followers, he set
out for the city of Radzagio. Having reached the Weloowon monastery, he
listened to Buddha's preachings, and, like the former messengers, he
became at once a Rahanda with all his followers.

Gaudama, having obtained the Buddhaship, spent the first season (Lent)
in the solitude of Migadawon. Thence he proceeded to the solitude of
Ooroowela, where he remained three months, until he had completed the
work of converting the three Kathabas. It was on the full moon of Piatho
(January) that he entered into the city of Radzagio, accompanied by his
thousand disciples. He had just stayed two months in that place, so that
there were five months since he had left the country of Baranathee.

Seven days after Kaludari's arrival, the cold season being nearly over,
the new convert addressed Buddha as follows: "Illustrious Phra, the cold
season is over, and the warm season has just begun; this is now the
proper time to travel through the country; nature wears a green aspect;
the trees of the forests are in full blossom; the roads are lined to
right and left with trees loaded with fragrant blossoms and delicious
fruits; the peacock proudly expands its magnificent tail; birds of every
description fill the air with their ravishing and melodious singing. At
this season heat and cold are equally temperate, and nature is
scattering profusely its choicest gifts." By such and similar
allurements Kaludari endeavoured to dispose Buddha to undertake a
journey to Kapilawot. Gaudama hearing all these words said: "What means
this? To what purpose are uttered so many fine expressions?" Kaludari
replied: "Your father, O blessed Buddha, is advanced in years; he has
sent me to invite you to come over to Kapilawot, that he might see you
before his death. He and your royal parents will be rejoiced at hearing
your most excellent law." "Well," said Buddha, "go and tell the Rahans
to hold themselves ready for the journey." It was arranged that ten
thousand Rahandas from Magatha and ten thousand from Kapilawot would
accompany the illustrious traveller. The distance between the two
countries is sixty youdzanas.[3] Sixty days were to be employed in going
over that distance, so they were to travel at the rate of but one
youdzana a day.

Kaludari was anxious to go and inform the king of the happy issue of his
negotiation. He flew through the air, and in a short time reached the
palace of the lord of Kapilawot. The king, seeing him, was exceedingly
glad; he desired the illustrious Rahan to sit in a becoming place, and
gave orders that his patta should be filled with the choicest dishes
from the royal table. Meanwhile Kaludari related to the king all the
circumstances attending his journey. When he had spoken, Thoodaudana
desired him to take his meal. Kaludari begged to be excused, saying that
he would go and take his meal in the presence of Buddha. "Where is he
now?" replied the king. "Mighty lord," answered Kaludari, "Buddha,
accompanied by twenty thousand Rahandas, is on his way to this country,
to pay a visit to his royal father; on this very day he has left the
city of Radzagio." Thoodaudana was exceedingly pleased; he said again to
Kaludari, "Eat your meal here, and please to take another meal to my
son; I wish to supply him daily with food during his journey." Kaludari
acceded to the king's request. When his meal was over, they cleansed his
patta with the most exquisite perfumes, and afterwards filled it with
the best and choicest eatables. The patta was then respectfully handed
to the aërial messenger, who, in the presence of a large crowd of
people, rose in the air with the patta under his arm, and in an instant
arrived in presence of Gaudama, to whom he offered the vessel containing
the delicious food from his father's table. Buddha received the food
with pleasure, and ate it. The same thing was daily performed during all
the time the journey lasted. Kaludari went every day to the palace
through the air, ate his meal there, and brought that of his
distinguished instructor, who during all the way partook of no other
food but that which was brought over to him from his father's palace.
Every day Kaludari carried news of the progress of Buddha's journey. By
this means he increased in the heart of all an ardent desire of seeing
him, and disposed every one to wait on the great Gaudama with favourable
and good dispositions. The services rendered on this occasion by
Kaludari were much valued by Buddha himself, who said: "Kaludari is
disposing the people to welcome our arrival; he is therefore one of the
most excellent among my disciples."

The princes and all the members of the royal family, having heard of
Gaudama's arrival, consulted among themselves as to the best means of
paying due respect to the noble and illustrious visitor. They selected
the grove of Nigraudatha[4] as the fittest place to receive him with his
disciples. The place was properly cleared and made ready for the
long-expected company. The inhabitants of the country, attended with
their richest dress, carrying flowers and perfumes, went out to meet
Buddha.[5] Children of both sexes opened the procession; they were
followed by the children of the noblest families; next came all the
persons belonging to the royal family. All went to the grove of
Nigraudatha, where Buddha had just arrived with the twenty thousand
Rahans that accompanied him.

The princes, secretly influenced by pride, thus thought within
themselves: This Prince Theiddat is younger than we all; he is but our
nephew, let the young people prostrate themselves before him; as to
ourselves, let us remain sitting down behind them. This was quickly
perceived by Buddha, who said to himself: My relatives refuse to
prostrate themselves before me; I will now even compel them to do so.
Whereupon he entered into ecstasy, rose in the air, and standing over
the heads of his relatives, as a person shaking dust over them, he
exhibited to their astonished regards, on a white mango-tree, wonders of
fire and water. Thoodaudana, surprised at such a wonderful display of
supernatural power, exclaimed: "Illustrious Buddha, on the day you were
born they brought you to the presence of the Rathee Kaladewela, to do
homage to him; on that occasion, having seen you placing your two feet
on the Rathee's forehead, I prostrated myself before you for the first
time. On the day of the ploughing solemn rejoicings, you were placed
under the shade of the tree Tsampoothapye. The sun by its daily motion
had caused the shadows of all surrounding trees to change their
direction; that of the tree under which you were placed alone remaining
unmoved. I prostrated myself a second time before you; and now, at the
sight of this new wonder, I again bow down to you." The example of the
king was instantly imitated by all the princes, who humbly bowed down to
Buddha. Satisfied with having humbled his proud relatives, Buddha came
down and sat in the place prepared for him. He then caused a shower of
red rain to pour down over the assembled multitudes. It had the virtue
to wet those who liked it, and not to wet those who disliked it. "This
is not," said Buddha, "the only time when such a wonder has happened;
the same thing took place once during one of my former existences, when
I was Prince Wethandra." He went on, relating the most interesting
circumstances of that former state of existence. The whole assembly now
delighted at hearing his preachings and witnessing the display of his
power. They all withdrew when the preaching was over, and retired to
their respective places, without, however, inviting Buddha to come and
take his meals in their houses.

On the following morning, Buddha set out with his twenty thousand
followers to get his meal. When he had arrived at the gate of the city,
he stood for a while, deliberating within himself whether he would go to
the palace to receive his meal, or go from street to street to beg for
it. He paused for a while, reflecting on the course of conduct that had
been followed by all the former Buddhas. Having known that they all,
without exception, had been in the habit of going out from house to
house in quest of their food, he resolved at once to follow their
example. Whereupon he entered the city and began to perambulate the
streets in search of his food. The citizens, from the various stories of
their houses, were looking out with amazement at such an unusual sight.
"How is this?" said they; "we see Prince Raoula and his mother
Yathaudara going out attired in the richest dresses, sitting in the most
elegant conveyance, and now Prince Theiddat[6] is appearing in the
streets with his hair and beard shaved, and his body covered with a
yellow dress befitting a mendicant. Such a thing is unbecoming indeed."
Whilst they were holding this language, on a sudden, rays of the purest
light shot forth from the body of Buddha, and illuminated all the
objects around his person. At this unexpected sight, they all joined in
praising and extolling the virtue and glory of Buddha.

King Thoodaudana was soon informed that his son was perambulating the
streets of the city in the dress of a mendicant. Startled at such a
news, he rose, and seizing the extremity of his outer garment, ran to
the encounter of his son. As soon as he saw him he exclaimed:
"Illustrious Buddha, why do you expose us to such a shame? Is it
necessary to go from door to door to beg your food? Could not a better
and more decent mode be resorted to for supplying your wants?" "My noble
father," said Buddha, "it is meet and convenient that all Rahans should
go out and beg their food." "But," replied the monarch, "are we not the
descendants of the illustrious Prince Thamadat? There is not a single
person in our illustrious race that has ever acted in such an indecorous
manner." Buddha retorted, "My noble father,[7] the descent from the
glorious princes Thamadat is something that belongs both to you and your
royal family: the lineage of a Buddha is quite different from that of
kings and princes; it bears no resemblance to it. Their ways and manners
must essentially differ from those of princes. All former Buddhas have
always been in the habit of thus going out in search of their food."
Then stopping his course and standing in the street, he uttered the
following stanzas, "My noble father, it is not proper that I should ever
neglect the duty of receiving alms; it is an action good in itself,
tallying with truth, deserving of great merits, and productive of
happiness in this and future existences." When he had spoken, his father
obtained the state of Thautapan. He went to the palace with his father,
saying, "Those who go to beg food according to the injunction and
prescription of the law, are doing well, and prepare themselves for a
state of happiness both for the present and future: those who do go
begging, but without any regard to the ordinances of the law, ought to
refrain from doing so." He was speaking in that way when he entered the
palace. His aunt Gaudamee became a Thautapan. His father, after this
second preaching, reached the state Thagadagan.

Thoodaudana invited Phra and his followers to ascend to the upper part
of the palace and partake of the meal prepared for them. When the meal
was over, all the ladies of the palace came to pay their respects to
Buddha. Some of them urged the Princess Yathaudara to do the same. But
she refused to comply with their request, in the hope that a greater
deference would be shown to her, and Buddha would come and visit her in
her apartments. Perceiving her studied inattendance, Phra said to his
father, "My noble father, I will go and visit the princess, and will,
without saying a single word, make her pay obedience to, and prostrate
herself before me." King Thoodaudana took up the patta, and accompanied
his son to the princess's apartments, together with his two disciples,
Thariputra and Maukalan. Buddha had scarcely been seated on the place
destined to him, when Yathaudara threw herself at Buddha's feet, and
placing her two hands on both ankles, touched repeatedly the upper part
with her forehead. Meanwhile Thoodaudana mentioned to his son the
respectful and affectionate regard she had ever entertained for his
person. "Since she heard," added the king, "that you had put on the
yellow robe, she would wear only clothes of that colour; when she knew
that you took but one meal a day, that you slept on a small and low
couch, and gave up, without regret, the use of perfumes, she instantly
followed your example, ate but one meal a day, slept on a low couch, and
gave up without grief the use of essences." "Illustrious monarch,"
replied Buddha, "I do not wonder at the practices of late observed by
the Princess Yathaudara; in former times, when her merits were as yet
only few and imperfect, she was living at the foot of a certain
mountain, and knew, even then, how to behave with becomingness, and
attend with a strict regard to all religious duties."

This very day, that is to say, the second day after the full moon of
Katson, was fixed as the time for the taking place of five grand
ceremonies. Nanda,[8] the younger brother of Buddha, was to have his
head washed, to put on the thingkiit, or royal head ornament, to be
raised to the dignity of crown prince, to be put in possession of his
own palace, and to be married. When Phra was leaving the palace, he bade
the young prince take his patta and follow him. Nanda instantly complied
with the request, and departed. He was just leaving the palace, when the
young lady he was to marry heard the sound of the steps and of the voice
of her lover. She was then busily engaged in combing her beautiful and
shining black hair. With the left hand drawing aside her hair, and with
the right leaning on the window-frame, she, with a sweet yet tremulous
voice, eagerly recommended him soon to return. She then continued to
follow him with anxious eyes until he could be seen no longer.
Meanwhile, resting against the window-side, she had her heart full of
ominous forebodings. Nanda would have gladly given back the patta to his
owner; but as he felt backward to hand it over to him, he followed
Buddha as far as the monastery. Though he had no intention of becoming
Rahan on his way to that place, yet, despite of his former dispositions,
he entered into the society of the perfect. So that on the second day
after Phra's arrival at Kapilawot, Nanda became a Rahan. Some other
writings mention that this happened only on the third day.

On the seventh day after Phra had entered into the city of Kapilawot,
the mother of Raoula, Princess Yathaudara, put on her son the choicest
ornaments, and sent him to Phra, saying previously to him: "Dearest son,
he whom you see surrounded by twenty thousand Rahandas, whose face
resembles gold, and whose body is similar to that of the chief of
Brahmas, is indeed your father. He was formerly the owner of the four
gold vases which disappeared on the very day he withdrew into solitude;
go to him now, and say respectfully, that, being at present crown prince
of this kingdom, destined to succeed your grandfather on the throne, you
wish to become possessed of the property that will fall to you in right
of inheritance." The young prince departed. Having come into the
presence of Buddha, he endeavoured, with the simplicity and amiability
becoming a young lad, to ingratiate himself in his father's favour, and
said how happy he was to be with him, adding many other particulars
befitting his age and position. Buddha, having eaten his meal and
performed his usual devotions, rose up and departed. Raoula followed
behind, saying: "Father, give me my inheritance." Buddha appearing
neither displeased nor vexed at such a demand, none of his followers
durst tell the young prince to desist from his apparently rude
behaviour, and go back to the palace. They all soon reached the
monastery. Phra thus thought within himself: Raoula is asking from me
perishable things, but I will give him something more excellent and
lasting. I will make him partaker of those goods I have gathered at the
foot of the Bodi tree, and thereby will provide for him a better
inheritance for the future. Whereupon he called Thariputra, and said to
him: "Beloved disciple, the young Prince Raoula asks from me a worldly
inheritance, which would avail him nothing, but I wish to present him
with something more excellent, an imperishable inheritance; let him
become a Rahan." Maukalan shaved the head of Raoula and attired him with
the tsiwaran. Thariputra gave him the first instructions. When
hereafter he became Patzing, Kathaba trained him up to the duties of his
new profession.

King Thoodaudana had seen his first son Prince Theiddat leave the palace
and all the attracting allurements of a brilliant court; despite of all
his precautions, he subsequently witnessed his going into a solitude and
becoming a Rahan. Next to him, his younger son Nanda, though assured by
the promises of soothsayers of becoming a great and mighty ruler, had
joined the society of Rahans. These two events had deeply afflicted him.
But, on hearing that his grandson had also become a Rahan, he could no
longer keep his affliction within himself. "I had," said he, "hoped that
my grandson would succeed me on the throne; this thought consoled me for
the loss of my two sons. What will become of my throne? Now the royal
succession is at an end, and the line of direct descendants is for ever
cut and irrevocably broken asunder."

Thoodaudana obtained the state of Anagam. He said to himself: It is
enough that I should have had so much to suffer and endure on the
occasion of my two sons and my grandson becoming Rahans; I will spare to
other parents a similar affliction. He went to Buddha's place, and
having paid him his respects in a becoming manner, asked him to
establish a regulation forbidding any son to become Rahan, unless he had
the consent of his parents. Buddha assented to his father's wish and
preached to him the law. When the instruction was finished, the king
bowed to him, rose up, turned on the right, and departed. Buddha,
calling immediately the Rahans, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, no one is
to be admitted to the profession of Rahan, ere he has obtained the
consent of his parents: any one that shall trespass this regulation
shall be guilty of a sin."

On a certain day, Phra having eaten his meal at his father's palace, the
king related to him the circumstance of a Nat, who, whilst he was
undergoing great austerities in the solitude, had come and conveyed the
report of his son having succumbed under the hardships of
mortification; but he would never give credit to such a rumour, as he
was certain that his son could not die ere he had become a Buddha. "My
illustrious father," replied Buddha, "you are much advanced in merits;
there is no wonder at your not believing a false report; but even in
former ages, when your merits were as yet very imperfect, you refused to
believe your son was dead, though in proof of this assertion bones were
exhibited before you in confirmation of the report." And he went on
relating many particulars that are to be found in the history of Maha
Damma Pala. It was at the conclusion of this discourse that the king
became Anagam. Having thus firmly established his father in the three
degrees of perfection, Buddha returned to the country of Radzagio.

During this voyage, the most excellent Phra arrived at the village of
Anupya, in the country of the Malla Princes. In the neighbourhood of the
village there is a grove of mango-trees. To that place he withdrew with
his twenty thousand disciples, and enjoyed himself in that secluded and
delightful retreat.

While he dwelt on that spot, the seed of the law that he had planted in
his native city was silently taking deep root in the hearts of many. His
uncle Thekkaudana had two sons, named Mahanan and Anooroudha. On a
certain day Mahanan said to his younger brother: "From among the several
families of the royal race, many persons have left the world and
embraced the religious profession under the guidance of Buddha. Our
family is the only one that has not as yet given any member to the
assembly. I will make you a proposal: either you will become an ascetic,
and leave me your inheritance; or I will myself take that step, and make
over to you all that I possess." Anooroudha at once accepted the
proposal.

When the intentions of the two brothers became known, five young
princes, their playmates and relatives, named Bagoo, Kimila, Baddya,
Ananda,[9] and Dewadat, desired to join them in their pious design.
Having put on their finest dress, they went into the country, having no
other attendant but Oopali, their barber. They shaped their course in
the direction of Anupya. Being at a small distance from the mango-trees'
grove, the young princes stripped themselves of their rich dresses, and
gave them all to the barber, as an acknowledgment of his services. The
latter at first accepted them, and was preparing to return, when the
following thought occurred to his mind: "If I go back to Kapilawot with
these fine and rich apparels, the king and the people will believe that
I have come by foul means in possession of so many valuables, and I
shall certainly be put to death. I will follow my masters, and never
leave them." Hereupon he returned in all haste and joined them at the
very moment they were disposing themselves to enter into the Anupya
mango-trees' grove. Oopali was admitted into their company, and ushered
along with them into Buddha's presence. Having paid their respects in
the usual manner, they applied for the dignity of members of the
assembly. Their request was granted. But previous to passing through the
prescribed ceremonies, the princes said one to another: "Great indeed
and deeply rooted is the pride of princes: it is extremely difficult to
shake it off, and free oneself of its tyrannical exactions. Let Oopali
be first ordained; we will have an opportunity of humbling ourselves by
prostrating ourselves before him." Their request was granted. After
having paid their respects to the newly ordained convert, they were
likewise admitted among the members of the assembly. Their proficiency
in spiritual progress was not the same. During the second Lent, which
they spent in the Weloowon monastery, Baddya, Bagoo, and Kimila reached
the culminating point of perfection by becoming Rahandas. Ananda became
Thautapatti. Anooroudha greatly advanced in the higher path of
metaphysics. As to Dewadat, he never attained more than the
Laukithamabat.

A little while after the conversion of the royal princes, Buddha left
Anupya, continued his voyage to Radzagio, and forthwith retired into the
Weloowon monastery to spend his second Lent. The time was chiefly
employed in training up the new converts in the knowledge of the great
truths, and in the practice of virtue. His son Raoula, about eight years
old, evinced the greatest dispositions. His attainments were far above
his age, and often elicited the admiration of the Rahans. On a certain
occasion Buddha overheard them expressing their astonishment at the
surprising progress Raoula was making in his studies. Coming among them
as if perchance, Phra asked them what was the subject of their
conversation. They answered that they were praising and extolling the
wonderful abilities of Raoula, and his matchless good dispositions.
Thereupon Buddha remarked that this was not to be wondered at. Then he
related to them the dzat Miga, by which he showed to them that during
former existences Raoula had distinguished himself in a conspicuous
manner by his excellent and admirable dispositions. As a reward for his
good behaviour and high mental qualifications, he was made Patzin. His
mind continuing to expand in an almost miraculous manner, he became a
Rahanda with myriads of Nats.

During the same season, Buddha often went to Radzagio to beg his food.
There was in that city a flower-seller, who was wont to bring eight
bouquets every day to the king, and receive in return from the royal
hands eight pieces of silver. On a certain day, as he was coming from
the country into the town with his usual supply of flowers for the king,
he happened to see Buddha in the streets at a moment when, by a
miraculous display of his power, the six glories beamed out of his body.
He then said to himself: "I wish to go and offer these flowers to
Buddha. But the king will doubtless be much angry with me. He may have
me arrested, thrown into prison, and put to death for having failed in
offering him the usual present. Despite the great danger that hangs over
me, I will go to Buddha and offer him my flowers. Great, indeed, and
lasting shall be the merits I will gain; they will follow me during
countless existences."

With a heart full of joy, Thoomana, for such is his name, went to the
resting-place where Buddha was seated, surrounded by crowds of people,
and laid the flowers at his feet. With a marked satisfaction, Gaudama
accepted the offer. Thoomana went home and related to his wife what had
just happened. The latter, irritated partly by the fear of the king's
wrath, and partly by the loss of the money she daily received, began to
abuse her husband in the coarsest language. She was so much maddened by
passion that she in all haste went to the king, denounced her husband,
and instantly sued for a divorce. Pimpathara revolted at such an act of
unparalleled audacity, ordered her to withdraw from his presence and go
back to her house. Meanwhile he commanded one of his courtiers to order
the flower-seller to come to the palace on the following day. As a
matter of course, the royal request was punctually complied with. In the
presence of the assembled courtiers, the king highly praised the conduct
of Thoomana, and instantly rewarded him with great liberality. As
Thoomana had offered to Buddha eight bunches of flowers, the king, to
acknowledge in a distinct manner such an offering, gave him eight
elephants, eight horses, eight slaves, eight bullocks, eight thousand
pieces of silver, and the revenue of eight villages. Buddha likewise
exceedingly extolled the meritorious behaviour of Thoomana in the
presence of the people, and said that during a whole world he would be
exempt from the four states of punishment, enjoy happiness in the seat
of man and in those of Nats, and finally become a Pitzega-buddha. The
value of the offering, though little in itself, became great by the
imminent risks he voluntarily exposed himself to. He made his offering,
though he was certain of incurring on that account the ruler's
displeasure.

When the season of retirement was over, Gaudama travelled through
different places. He went to Patzanawonta in the Dzetia country, thence
he passed into the Bisakila forest, and returned to Radzagio, in the
grove of Yin-daik trees, near the burial-place.

Whilst Buddha was in the splendid Dzetawon monastery, just presented to
him, a strong temptation came upon Ananda to renounce his calling and
return into the world. He went so far as to tell some of his brethren
that he recollected the promise of a prompt return which he made to his
young bride Dzanapada-kaliani, and that now he wished to fulfil it by
immediately going back into his palace, and resuming his former mode of
life. This was soon reported to Gaudama, who resorted to the following
expedient to crush in the bud the rising temptation. He took Ananda by
the arm, rose with him in the air, and led him in the direction of the
Nats' seat of Tawadeintha. On their way, Buddha, by a miraculous
process, exhibited to the eyes of his companion the sight of an immense
forest in conflagration. On the burnt stump of a tree he showed him a
female monkey horribly mutilated, having her tail, ears, and nose cut
off. At such a sight the horrified Ananda turned away his eyes in
disgust. A little while after this, Buddha exhibited before him the
dazzling and heart-captivating sight of a long array of five hundred
matchless beauties. They were daughters of Nats going to pay their
respects to the great Thagia. Ananda was gazing at them with silent but
enraptured feelings. Buddha said to him: "Do you believe those beauties
before you to be equal to Dzanapada?" "She is no more to these perfect
forms," answered he, "than the bleeding female monkey we have left
behind us is to her." "All these celestial damsels," said Buddha, "I
shall give to you, provided you agree to remain in the monastery for
some years longer." "Willingly do I accept the proposal," replied
Ananda; "I will stay cheerfully in the monastery on such favourable
terms." Whereupon both returned to the monastery.

       *       *       *       *       *

The members of the assembly soon became acquainted with what had passed
between the master and the disciple, and keenly taunted Ananda with
their sarcastic remarks upon the daughters of Nats. Ashamed of himself,
Ananda withdrew into solitude. There he devoted himself to reflection
and penitential deeds, and finally annihilated the evil desires of his
unsubdued passion. When the inward struggle was over and peace had been
restored in him, Ananda went to Buddha's presence, and stated his
willingness to dwell for ever in a monastery and lead a religious life.
Meantime he released him from the promise he had made to him respecting
the celestial beauties. Buddha was much pleased at such a happy change.
He said to the assembled religious: "Previous to this occurrence, Ananda
resembled a badly-roofed house, which lets in the rain of passions; but
now it is similar to a well-roofed building, which is so well protected
that it is proof against the oozing of passions." Whereupon he related
the following story concerning a former existence of Ananda.

A merchant named Kappaka had a donkey which he used to carry goods from
place to place. Having one day come near a place covered with trees,
Kappaka unloaded his animal, to allow him some time to rest and graze.
Meanwhile, a female donkey was likewise grazing in the neighbourhood.
Its presence was quickly detected by Kappaka's animal. When the moment
of departure had come, the latter, attracted by the female, kicked
furiously at his master, and would not allow the load to be replaced on
its back. The merchant, enraged at this unusual freak, began to threaten
the rebellious beast, and then to hit it with the whip as hard as he
could. At last the poor animal, unable to bear any longer the blows,
mentioned to his master the cause of his unusual behaviour. Kappaka told
him that if he would but continue his voyage, he would give him at the
end of the journey several fine females, much superior to the one he was
now coveting. The proposal was accepted. At the end of the journey
Kappaka said to the beast: "I will keep my promise with you: but I must
inform you that your daily provender shall not be increased; you will
have to share it with your companion. Subsequently you will have little
ones to provide for and maintain, but your daily ration shall not be
increased in the least; you shall have to work for me as much as you do
at present, and also to provide for the maintenance and support of your
family." The donkey, after a few moments of reflection, thought it was
better to remain as he was; and from that moment he was entirely cured
of his inordinate inclination. At the conclusion of the narration,
Buddha said: "The male donkey was he who has now become Ananda; the
female donkey, Dzanapa-kaliani; and Kappaka is now the most excellent
Phra, who is the teacher of men, Nats and Brahmas."

Buddha, whilst at Wethalie, went out through the country, and in all the
places that he visited preached to the crowds of hearers. It was during
one of his benevolent errands that he met with a celebrated Pounha,
named Eggidatta, who with a great many disciples led an ascetic life,
after having been formerly, first, the chief Pounha of King Kothala, and
next of his son. Buddha earnestly desired the conversion of so
distinguished a personage. Maukalan was at first despatched to that
famous hermit, to attempt to bring him over to his master; but he
utterly failed. The reception he at first met with was anything but
pleasant. The work was to be done and perfected only by the irresistible
eloquence of the great preacher. Buddha soon came up to the entrance of
Eggidatta's cell. He began to upbraid the Rathee for teaching his
disciples to worship mountains, trees, rivers, and all that exists in
nature. He then initiated him in the knowledge of the four great truths.
Eggidatta, seeing the truth, at once became a convert with all his
disciples. When this great spiritual conquest was achieved, Buddha
returned to Radzagio, and spent the third season in the Weloowon or
bamboo-grove monastery. It was during the three months of the rainy
season that Buddha imparted, in a more complete manner, to his disciples
the knowledge and science which during his peregrinations he had but
superficially conveyed to them. At the same time, he carefully trained
them up in the practice and observance of those disciplinary regulations
which were intended as a means to subdue passions, to estrange them from
the world and all its attractions, and to lead a spiritual life.

During his stay in the monastery, among the many instructions that he
gave to his disciples, I will relate the particulars that he mentioned
respecting the former doings and the final conversion of the Rahanda
Tsampooka.[10]

In the days of the Buddha Kathaba, Tsampooka, or rather the being who in
the present existence is called by that name, put on the religious dress
in the Thawatie country. He lived in a fine monastery, and had for his
supporters the best and richest people of the place. One day, a Rahan,
belonging to another country, came to his monastery and begged the
favour to be allowed to live therein for some time. The heartless
Tsampooka denied him admittance into the interior of the building, but
tolerated his staying in the verandah during the cold season. The
people, however, actuated by better feelings than those of their
teacher, brought regularly food for the head of the house, as well as
for the stranger, for whom they felt great affection. The spiteful
Tsampooka could not bear to see the people showing marks of kindness and
benevolence towards his hated guest. On one occasion he forgot himself
so far as to abuse him, by repeating the following coarse expressions:
Eat dirt, go naked, and sleep on the bare ground. Such an inhuman
behaviour soon met with a condign punishment. The wretched Tsampooka had
at first to endure horrible torments in hell.

On his return to the seat of man on earth, he was born from respectable
parents, but he was always prone from his infancy to indulge in the
lowest habits. He would secretly steal away, and actually satiate the
cravings of hunger by eating the most disgusting things; he would not
wear clothing, but ran about in a state of nakedness; he would only
sleep on the ground. His parents, after many fruitless attempts to
correct him, resolved to make him over to the heterodox ascetics. These
received him; but he would not eat in the company of his brethren, nor
go to beg with them. He, from the moment they were absent, went to
devour the refuse he could find. His eccentric and disgusting habits
were soon found out, and his new friends said one to the other: "Let
this man be no longer allowed to live with us. Should the disciples of
the Rahan Gaudama hear that one of our company is behaving in such a
manner, our brotherhood would become a laughing-stock to them." He was,
therefore, expelled from this place. Tsampooka went to take his abode on
a rock near the place that served as receptacle to the sewers of
Radzagio. On that rock he remained in the most fatiguing posture; he
leaned on his right hand which rested on the rock, and also on his right
knee; the left leg was stretched and the left arm raised up. He kept his
mouth opened. When the people asked him why he remained with his mouth
wide open, as a man who is incessantly drawing air into his lungs, he
answered that, refraining from the use of coarse food, he was feeding
on air only: when questioned about the singular position of his two
legs, he answered, that, were he to stand on both legs, the earth would
instantly shake. He had been during fifty-five years in that sad
position, when Gaudama, moved with compassion at his pitiable condition,
went in person to convert him. He began to relate to him all that he had
done during former existences, mentioning in particular the sin he had
been guilty of towards a brother hermit. At this unexpected declaration,
Tsampooka humbled himself. Buddha then preached to him his law. The
repenting Tsampooka firmly believed in all that was said to him. He then
rose up, and, with a heart overflowing with joy, instantly left his
place, followed his new master, and soon became a Rahanda. His
proficiency in science and virtue was such that he soon occupied a
distinguished rank among the members of the assembly.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] In glancing over the episode of Thoodaudana's deputation to
    his son, to invite him to come and visit his native country, the
    reader is almost compelled to confess that the motive that
    influenced the king was only inspired by the natural feeling of
    beholding once more, before he died, him whose fame, spread far
    and wide, rendered him an object of universal admiration. Was
    the monarch induced by considerations of a higher order to send
    for Buddha? There is no distinct proof in support of this
    supposition. He was his father, and he but obeyed and followed
    the impulse of his paternal heart. He entertained a high sense
    of his son's distinguished qualifications. He had faith in the
    wonderful signs foretelling his future matchless greatness. He
    desired, therefore, to honour him in an extraordinary way, on
    the very spot where he had been born. But he appeared to concern
    himself very little about the doctrines he was preaching with a
    success never before equalled. The king exhibited a great amount
    of worldly-mindedness, until his mind had been enlightened by
    the oral instructions of the great reformer.

    It is difficult, if not impossible, to form an accurate idea of
    the effect produced on the mass of the people by Buddha's
    preachings. We see that eminent and zealous reformer surrounded
    by thousands of distinguished disciples in the country of
    Radzagio. These converts belonged chiefly to the class of
    anchorites and philosophers, already alluded to in foregoing
    notes as existing at the time Buddha began to enter the career
    of preaching. But the great bulk of the populations of the
    various places he visited seemed to have received for a long
    time little or no impressions from his discourses. The opponents
    of Buddha, the Brahmins in particular, exercised a powerful
    influence over the public mind. They used it most effectually
    for retaining their ancient hold over the masses. It required
    the extraordinary display of the greatest wonders to break
    through the almost insuperable barriers raised by his enemies.
    From that period we see the people following Buddha, crowding
    round him, and showing unmistakable signs of belief in him.

    The only explanation to account for this undeniable result is
    the philosophical method adopted by Buddha in expounding the
    principles of his system. His mode of proceeding in the gradual
    development of his ideas retained the abstruseness peculiar to
    subjects discussed in schools of philosophy. The technical terms
    so familiar to scholars prove enigmatical to the uninitiated
    _vulgus_. It takes a long time before maxims elaborated by
    scholars are so far popularised as to be understood by the
    unlearned, which in every age and country have always
    constituted the great mass of the people. If the mind of the
    generality of men is unable to comprehend at first a system of
    doctrines, based on metaphysics, we cannot wonder at the slow
    progress made by the preachings of the great philosopher: but
    the working of wonders is a tangible fact operating upon the
    senses of the multitude, eliciting their applauses, and
    disposing them to yield an implicit faith to all the
    instructions imparted by the wonderful being that is gifted with
    supernatural powers. Feelings, and not reason, become the
    foundation of a belief which grows stronger in proportion to the
    mysterious obscurity that encompasses the proposed dogmas, when
    supported by wonderful deeds.

    At the time Thoodaudana sent messengers to his son, the great
    work of conversion was carried on with a most complete and
    hitherto unheard-of success. The hall of the Weloowon monastery
    was too small for the thousands that flocked thither to hear
    Gaudama. Outside its precincts, crowds stood motionless,
    listening with unabated attention to the discourses that fell
    from his lips. So crowded was the audience that the messengers
    had no chance to make their way to the presence of the preacher.
    Struck with the intense attention paid to what was said by their
    master's son, they too wished to make themselves acquainted with
    the subjects of the instruction. What was listened to from
    motives of mere curiosity, soon made a deep impression upon
    their mind. The magic power of the irresistible eloquence of
    Buddha worked a thorough change almost instantaneously in their
    dispositions, and they became converts. So perfect was their
    conversion, that they forgot for the sake of truth the very
    object of their mission. They became at once members of the
    Assembly, and took rank among the Rahans. They attained the
    state of Ariahs, and were foremost among the perfect. The great
    attainments arrived at by the Ariahs communicate to the material
    portion of their being such an extraordinary amount of amazing
    virtues or properties, that it becomes so refined as to partake,
    to a certain degree, of a spiritual nature. Hence we see the
    Rahandas going over immense distances through the air, and
    performing deeds of a supernatural order. The power of working
    miracles is, therefore, inherent in perfection; and it is
    greater or smaller in proportion to the degree of perfection
    possessed by individuals. We find that power expanded in Buddha
    to an unlimited extent, because his mental attainments were
    boundless.

    [2] Magatha is a country in the north of India. It occupied
    nearly the same extent of territory as that now called North
    Behar in Bengal. The Pali or sacred language of the southern
    Buddhists is often called the language of Magatha. Hence we may
    infer that it was the common language of that country. It is
    probable that the Pali language was extensively spoken in the
    days of Gaudama, and it was the channel through which he and his
    disciples long after him conveyed their religious instructions
    to the multitude of converts. The Pitagat, or the last amended
    collection of sacred writings, is written in Pali, which is
    looked upon in Ceylon, Nepaul, Burmah, and Siam as the language
    of sacred literature. Except in some old manuscripts, where the
    old square Pali letters are used, the Burmese employ their
    common alphabetic characters for writing Pali words. The words,
    having to pass first through a Burmese ear, and next being
    expressed by Burmese letters, undergo great changes. To such an
    extent does the metamorphosis reach, that very often they are
    scarcely recognisable. The Burmans, however, deserve great
    credit for having, in very many instances, retained in their
    orthography of Pali words letters which, though not at all
    sounded, indicate to the eye the nature of the word, its origin,
    and its primitive form.

    In the southern parts of Burmah the Pali language is learned but
    not studied, used, but not understood by the inmates of
    monasteries. They are all obliged to learn certain formulas of
    prayers to be daily recited in private, and, on great and solemn
    occasions, to be chanted aloud in the presence of a crowd of
    pious hearers. The writer, anxious to acquire some knowledge of
    the sacred language, often visited those monks, who, among their
    brethren, enjoyed a certain fame for learning, with the express
    intention of becoming a humble student, under the direction of
    one of the best informed of the society. He was thoroughly
    disappointed to find those who proffered their services in great
    earnest quite ignorant, and utterly incapable of giving him the
    least assistance.

    The Burmese have translated in their vernacular tongue most of
    the sacred writings. In many instances the translation is not
    exactly what we call interlineary, but it approaches to it as
    nearly as possible. Two, three, or four Pali words are written
    down, and the translation in Burmese follows with a profusion of
    words which often confuses and perplexes the reader; then come
    again a few other Pali words, accompanied also with the
    translation, and so on throughout the whole work. The art of
    translating well and correctly from one language into another is
    not so common as many persons may imagine. In a good translator
    are required many qualifications which are not to be easily met
    with, particularly in a Burman, to whom we may give credit for
    knowing well his own tongue, but who, without detracting from
    his literary attainments, is certainly an indifferent Pali
    scholar. These translations may convey, perhaps, the general
    meaning of the original, but, as regards the correct meaning of
    each term, it is a luxury ever denied to the reader of such
    crude and imperfect compositions.

    [3] It is difficult to ascertain exactly the length of the
    measure called youdzana, formerly used to indicate land
    distances. It varies from five to twelve English miles. In
    measuring the distance from Radzagio to the Brahmin village of
    Nalanda, the birthplace of Thariputra, which is one youdzana,
    General Cunningham has found it to be seven miles. This would
    induce us to hold as certain that at the epoch when Fa-Hian
    visited the place, the youdzana was equal to seven miles or
    forty Chinese _li_. But this would not prove that the more
    ancient youdzana was not shorter than the one used in the time
    of the Chinese pilgrim. Several authors maintain that such is
    the case. It appears, likewise, that the length of that measure
    of distance has varied with localities and places to such an
    extent that it has been found in some countries to be equal to
    more than twelve miles. We believe that when that measure of
    distance is mentioned in this work, one would not be far from
    the truth in estimating its length six or seven English miles at
    the utmost.

    [4] The attentive reader of this work cannot fail to remark the
    general tendencies of Buddhism to isolation, retirement, and
    solitude. In a retired position, the mind is less distracted or
    dissipated by exterior objects; it possesses a greater share of
    self-control, and is fitter for the arduous work of attentive
    reflection and deep meditation. Whenever Buddha, attended by his
    followers, reaches a place where he is to stay for a while, a
    grove outside the city is invariably selected. Thither the great
    preacher retires, as to a beloved solitude. He enjoys it beyond
    all that can be said. Alone with his spiritual family,
    unconcerned about the affairs of this world, he breathes at ease
    the pure atmosphere of a complete calm; his undisturbed soul
    soars freely in the boundless regions of spiritualism. What he
    has seen and discovered during his contemplative errands he
    imparts with a placid countenance and a mild voice to his
    disciples, endeavouring thereby to make them progress in the way
    of knowledge and perfection.

    In those solitary abodes of peace Buddha was willing to receive
    all those who wished for instruction. They were all, without
    distinction of rank or caste, admitted into the presence of him
    who came professedly to point to men the way to happiness,
    helping them to disentangle themselves from the trammels of
    passions. He preached to all the most excellent law. The
    tendency to retreat and withdrawal from worldly tumult is, in
    our own days, conspicuous in the care taken by Buddhistic monks
    to have their houses built in some lonely quarter of a town,
    assigned exclusively for that special purpose, or, as is oftener
    the case, in fine places at a small distance from the walls.
    Some of those groves, in the centre of which rise the peaceful
    abodes of Rahans, the writer has often seen and much admired. In
    towns or large villages, where the ground is uneven, the small
    heights are generally crowned with the dwellings of religious.

    [5] The narrative of Buddha's reception in his father's royal
    city suggests two reflections. The first is, that the saying
    _Nemo Propheta in suâ patriâ_ was as true in the days of Gaudama
    as it has been in subsequent ages. The mountains of Kapilawot
    had often re-echoed the praises of Buddha and the recital of his
    wonderful doings. The splendid retinue of twenty thousand
    distinguished converts that attended his person, the hitherto
    unwitnessed display of miraculous powers, &c.,--all these
    peculiarly remarkable circumstances seemed more than sufficient
    to secure for him a distinguished reception among his kinsmen,
    who ought to have been proud of being connected with him by the
    ties of relationship. Such, however, was not the case. Actuated
    by the lowest feelings of base jealousy, his relatives refused
    to pay him the respect he was so well entitled to. Their
    wretched obduracy was to be conquered by the awe and fear his
    miraculous power inspired.

    The second reflection suggested by the recital of the ceremonies
    observed on the occasion of Buddha's reception in his native
    country is the truly pleasing fact of seeing the weaker sex
    appearing in public divested of the shackles put upon it by
    oriental jealousy. In Burmah and Siam the doctrines of Buddhism
    have produced a striking, and, to the lover of true
    civilisation, a most interesting result, viz., established the
    almost complete equality of the condition of women with that of
    men. In those countries women are not miserably confined in the
    interior of their houses, without the remotest chance of ever
    appearing in public. They are seen circulating freely in the
    streets; they preside at the _comptoirs_, and hold an almost
    exclusive possession of the bazaars. Their social position is
    more elevated in every respect than that of the persons of their
    sex in the regions where Buddhism is not the predominating
    creed. They may be said to be men's companions, and not their
    slaves. They are active, industrious, and by their labours and
    exertions contribute their full share towards the maintenance of
    the family. The marital rights, however, are fully acknowledged
    by a respectful behaviour towards their lords. In spite of all
    that has been said by superficial observers, I feel convinced
    that manners are less corrupted in those countries where women
    enjoy liberty, than in those where they are buried alive by a
    barbarous and despotic custom in the grave of an opprobrious and
    vice-generating slavery. Buddhism disapproves of polygamy, but
    it tolerates divorce. In this respect the habits of the people
    are of a damnable laxity. Polygamy is very rare in Burmah among
    the people. This nefarious and anti-social practice is left to
    the magnates of the land, from the king down to a petty myowon,
    who make a part of their greatness consist in placing themselves
    above public opinion, above moral and religious precepts, for
    enjoying the unrestrained gratification of the basest appetite.
    Though divorce be a thing of common occurrence, it is looked
    upon as an imperfection, merely tolerated for the sake of human
    frailty.

    [6] Buddhist monks, out of humility and contempt for all worldly
    things, do not allow hairs or beard to grow. They walk
    barefooted, wearing a yellow dress of the simplest make. They
    are bound to live on the alms that are freely bestowed upon
    them. The regulations of the Wini are, in this respect, most
    explicit, and leave no room for false interpretation. A Rahan,
    having renounced the world, and divested himself of all worldly
    property, is bound by his professional vows to rely for his
    daily food on what he may obtain by begging. Hence the
    appellatio of Bickus, or mendicants, always bestowed on them by
    Gaudama, whenever he addresses them in particular on certain
    points regarding their profession. In Burmah, as soon as the day
    begins to dawn, a swarm of yellow-dressed monks sally forth from
    their abode with the patta under the left arm, and perambulate
    the streets in quest of food. They never ask for anything; they
    accept what is voluntarily tendered to them, without uttering a
    single word of thanks, or even looking at their generous
    benefactors. This action of bestowing alms on the Rahans is
    deemed a most meritorious one. The offerer, therefore, becomes
    liberal, not on account of the person he is assisting, but
    because of the abundant merits he hopes to derive from the act.
    This notion agrees very well with the leading tenets of
    Buddhism.

    [7] The answer of Buddha to his royal father is a most
    remarkable one, and deserves the attention of the observer. The
    great moralist does away with all the prerogatives man may
    derive from birth, rank, and riches. Law alone can confer titles
    of true greatness and genuine nobility. The fervent and zealous
    observers of the law are alone entitled to the respect of their
    fellow-men. The begging of alms may be, in the eyes of
    worldlings, a low and mean action, but it becomes a most
    dignified one, because it is enforced by the law. This lofty
    principle boldly establishes the superiority of virtue upon the
    strongest basis, and sanctions the moral code he was destined to
    publish to men and saddle on their conscience. The criterion of
    all that is good, excellent, praiseworthy, and meritorious is no
    more to depend on the arbitrary and very often erroneous views
    of men, but must rest upon the immutable tenets of the eternal
    law, discovered, revived, and published by the omniscient
    Buddha. This truth, like a flash of light, illuminated the
    king's mind, and, at this first preaching of his son, he
    attained the first of the four states of perfection.

    The princes Thamadat and Thoodaudana boast to have descended
    from are, according to Buddhistic sacred books, the princes who
    were elected to hold supreme power at the very moment the words
    _mine_ and _thine_ began to be heard amongst men, after they had
    eaten the rice called Tsale, and become subject to passions,
    that is to say, at the origin of society, in the beginning of
    the world. The kings of Burmah, down to the present occupant of
    the throne, who are descended, in their opinion, from the
    Kapilawot line of kings, lay claim to the same distinction. The
    writer has heard the present King of Burmah very coolly stating
    as a matter of fact, which no one could think of contradicting,
    that he was descended from the Thamadat's royal line.

    The Princess Yathaudara, mentioned in this narrative, had been
    the wife of Buddha, ere he had withdrawn into solitude and
    renounced the world. A son had just been born to him when he
    left his father's palace. His name was Raoula. The doctrine of
    the influence of merits gathered during former existences is
    forcibly illustrated in the case of Yathaudara, who, unmindful
    of the position she occupied in former years, did not hesitate
    to fling herself at Buddha's feet, acknowledging him to be
    worthy of all honour and veneration. Her former merits disposed
    her to view in him, who had been her husband, the extraordinary
    personage who was to lead men through the path of virtue to the
    deliverance.

    [8] Nanda was Buddha's younger brother, or rather half-brother.
    His mother was Patzapati, the younger sister of Maia. Since
    Buddha had renounced the world, Nanda had become the presumptive
    heir to the crown of Kapilawot. His conversion grieved the king
    much, who, to prevent the recurrence of such an event, exacted
    from the great reformer that in after times no one could be
    admitted into the society of the perfect, without having
    previously obtained the consent of his parents; failing such a
    condition, the act of admission should be considered as null and
    void. Hence, we read in the book of ordination, or admittance to
    the dignity of Rahan, that the person directed by the president
    of the assembly to examine the candidate never omits to inquire
    of him whether he has obtained the consent of his parents.

    The conversion of Raoula followed that of Nanda. Of this new and
    distinguished convert no mention is made afterwards in the
    course of this work. He must, in all likelihood, have become a
    celebrated member of the assembly, as he was trained up to the
    functions and duties of his profession by the greatest and most
    renowned disciples, such as Maukalan, Thariputra, and Kathaba.

    In the history of Buddhism, the Dzetawon monastery is not
    inferior in celebrity to that of Weloowon. Therein Gaudama
    announced during a certain night the thirty-six beatitudes of
    the law to a Nat that had come and requested him to make him
    acquainted with the most perfect points of his law. In the
    division of the scriptures called Thoots, or sermons, we see
    that the most important have been delivered in the hall of that
    monastery.

    Here is another instance of a donation of landed property to a
    religious corporation. In the first case, the gift had been made
    to him and to his actual followers. But in this circumstance,
    Phra desires the rich and pious benefactor to make the donation,
    not only in behalf of self and the present assembly, but also in
    that of all future members, who might resort to this place. In a
    Buddhistic point of view, we may conclude that the advice given
    to the donor was intended as a means of multiplying the sum of
    the merits of his liberality, which must be commensurate with
    the number of the individuals to whom it is designed to be
    extended.

    According to the principle respecting property, which from
    immemorial time has prevailed under almost all despotic
    governments in Asia, which recognises the head of the state as
    the sole, real, and absolute owner of the soil, it is evident
    that the act of donation was, legally speaking, a declaration or
    a statement of the disposal an individual made of the rights
    such as he had them, viz., those of use, in favour of a
    religious body. The landed property, thus conferred, acquired a
    kind of sacredness which preserved it from the grasp of even the
    most rapacious ruler. On the other hand, the religious body had
    no right or power whatsoever to sell or dispose of that
    property. In a corporation constituted as the assembly of the
    disciples of Buddha was, and is in our own days, the society
    alone could have the possession and management of immovable
    properties given to monasteries. Donations of this kind must
    have stood good as long as there were members of the Buddhistic
    religious family willing and ready to maintain their rights.
    Nothing short of a complete revolution in the political state of
    the country, or the prolonged absence of the individuals vested
    with the right of occupation, could put an end to the effect of
    those deeds of donation. In Burmah, the Buddhist monks possess
    nothing beyond the ground upon which stands the monastery. From
    certain inscriptions found in the midst of the ruins of the
    temples at Pagan, it is evident that in the palmy days of that
    city donations of landed properties, such as paddy-fields,
    fruit-trees, bullocks, and peasants, were made to monasteries
    and temples. But for the last three or four hundred years, no
    vestiges of such deeds have ever been found. So far as I have
    been able to make inquiries, I am not aware that the order has
    ever become possessor of lands. In Ceylon such is not the case,
    at least was not when the English occupied the island. Extensive
    tracts of valuable lands were in the hands of the Talapoins, who
    thereby obtained over the people the twofold influence conferred
    by wealth and religion.

    [9] Ananda, whose conversion is here mentioned, was the son of
    Amitaudana, a brother of King Thoodaudana, and, therefore, first
    cousin to Gaudama. He is one of the best known disciples of the
    celebrated philosopher of Kapilawot. He has gained his
    well-earned fame, less by the shining attainments of his
    intellect than by the amiable qualities of a loving heart. He
    bore to Buddha the most affectionate regard and the warmest
    attachment from the very beginning of his conversion. The master
    repaid the love of the disciple by tokens of a sincere esteem
    and tender affection. Though it was a long period afterwards ere
    Ananda was officially appointed to minister unto the personal
    wants of Buddha, yet the good dispositions of his excellent
    heart prompted him to serve Buddha on all occasions, and in
    every way that was agreeable to him. He became the medium of
    intercourse between his beloved master and all those that
    approached him. When he had to communicate orders or give
    directions to the religious, or when some visitors desired to
    wait on him, Ananda was the person who transmitted all orders,
    and ushered visitors into the presence of the great preacher.

    Dewadat was both first cousin to Buddha and his brother-in-law.
    His father was Thouppabudha, Maia's brother. He was brother of
    the Princess Yathaudara, who had married our Gaudama, when he
    was crown prince of Kapilawot. Hereafter, we shall have the
    opportunity of seeing that his moral dispositions were very
    different from those of the amiable Ananda.

    [10] The story of Eggidatta gives us an insight into one of the
    tenets which was held by that ascetic. His interlocutor
    reproached him with worshipping mountains, trees, forests,
    rivers, and the heavenly bodies. From the expressions made use
    of by the Burmese translator, the writer is inclined to believe
    that a direct allusion is made to pantheistic opinions. We know
    that most of the Indian schools of philosophy have based their
    various systems of metaphysics upon that most erroneous
    foundation. According to pantheists, this world is not distinct
    from the essence of God; all that exists is but a manifestation
    or a development of the substance of God. This world is not the
    work of God, existing as distinct from its Maker, but it is God
    manifesting Himself substantially in all things. Who could,
    then, wonder at the conduct of Tsampooka? He worshipped God, or
    rather that portion of the supreme Being he saw in the great and
    mighty subjects that surrounded him and attracted his notice.

    Spinoza, in the seventeenth century, and his unfortunately too
    numerous followers in this century, have recast into a hundred
    different moulds the pantheistic ideas of the Hindu
    philosophers, and offer to the intelligence of their hearers and
    readers, through an almost unintelligible language, the same
    deadly food which has finally produced on the Hindu mind the sad
    results which we witness. If we were better acquainted with the
    variety of doctrines which the Hindu philosophers have exhibited
    in the field of metaphysics, we would be soon convinced that the
    modern metaphysicians, who have placed themselves out of the
    pale of revelation, have not advanced one step in that science,
    and that the divergence in their opinions is but a faithful
    representation of the confusion which for more than two thousand
    years prevailed on the banks of the Ganges among their
    predecessors in the same speculative studies.

    It appears that Tsampooka was in his days what the Jogies or
    Hindoo penitents are up to our time. He remained on his rock, in
    the most difficult position, for the space of fifty-five years,
    exhibiting himself to the crowd, and aiming at winning their
    admiration by the incredible sufferings that he voluntarily
    submitted to. His apparent sanctity was made up of very doubtful
    materials. He passed himself off for a man who could remain
    without eating, and who was gifted with supernatural powers.
    Plain humility, which is nothing but the result of the true
    knowledge of self, was not the favourite virtue of our spiritual
    quack.




CHAPTER IX.

    _A rich man of Thawattie, named Anatapein, becomes a convert --
    Story of Dzewaha -- He cures Buddha of a painful distemper --
    The people of Wethalie send a deputation to Buddha -- Digression
    on the manner Buddha daily spent his time -- Settling of a
    quarrel between the inhabitants of Kaulia and those of Kapilawot
    -- New converts are strengthened in their faith -- Thoodaudana's
    death in the arms of his son -- Queen Patzapati and many noble
    ladies are elevated to the rank of Rahaness -- Conversion of
    Kema, the first queen of King Pimpathara -- Heretics near
    Thawattie are confounded by the display of miraculous powers --
    Buddha goes to the seat of Thawadeintha, to preach the law to
    his mother._


When Buddha was in the country of Radzagio, a certain rich merchant,
named Anatapein, came to Radzagio, with five hundred carts loaded with
the most precious goods, and took his lodging in the house of an
intimate friend. Whilst living with his friend, he heard that Gaudama
had become a Buddha. Suddenly, he was seized with an earnest desire of
seeing him and hearing his doctrine. On a certain day, he rose at an
early hour, and perceived, reflected through the lattices of the window,
some rays of an uncommon brightness. He went in the direction of the
light to the place where Buddha was preaching the law. He listened to it
with great attention, and, at the end of the discourse, he obtained the
state of Thautapan. Two days after, he made a great offering to Buddha
and to the assembly, and requested him to come to the country of
Thawattie. The request was granted. The distance to Thawattie is
forty-five youdzanas. Anatapein spent enormous sums that one monastery
should be erected at each youdzana distance. When Buddha was
approaching, the pious merchant arranged as follows for the reception
of the distinguished visitor, and presenting to him a splendid
monastery called Dzetawon, which he had made ready for him. He sent
first his son, richly attired, with five hundred followers, belonging to
the richest families; then followed his two daughters with five hundred
girls, all decked with the most costly ornaments. Every one carried
flags of five different colours. These were followed by five hundred
dames, having the rich man's wife at their head, each carrying a pitcher
of water. Last of all, came Anatapein, with five hundred followers, all
wearing new dresses. Gaudama let the crowd walk in front, and he
followed attended by all the Rahans. When he entered the grove, he
appeared as beautiful as the peacock's tail when completely expanded.
Anatapein asked Gaudama how he wished the donation should be made and
effected? "Let the monastery be offered," said Buddha, "to all the
Rahans that may come in future to this place from what quarter soever."
Thereupon, the rich man, holding a golden vessel of water, poured its
contents on the hands of Buddha, saying: "I present this monastery to
Buddha and to all the Rahans that may come hereafter to reside therein."
Buddha said prayers and thanks in token of his accepting the offering.
Seven days were devoted to making this great offering, and during four
months uninterrupted rejoicings went on in commemoration of this great
and solemn donation. For the purchase of the place, and the expenses of
the ceremony, enormous sums were lavished. During the era of former
Buddhas this very place had always been purchased and offered to them
and their disciples.

[_N.B._--Here is found narrated in full the history of a celebrated
physician named Dzewaka. As such story has no reference whatever to
Buddha's career, I will give but a very succinct account of it.]

At a certain time,[1] when Buddha lived in the city of Radzagio, the
country of Wethalie was made rich, gay, and attractive by the presence
of a famous courtesan. A nobleman of Radzagio, who had just returned
from that country, narrated to the king all that he had seen at
Wethalie, and induced the monarch to set up, in his own kingdom, some
famous courtesan, who would be skilful in music and dancing, as well as
attractive by the form and accomplishments of her person. Such a person
having been procured, she was, by the munificence of the king, placed on
a most splendid footing, and one hundred pieces of silver were to be
paid for each evening's visit. The king's son being rather assiduous in
his visits to her place, she became pregnant. Aware of her state, the
courtesan affected to be sick until her confinement. She directed her
servant to throw out the newly-born infant, on a heap of rubbish, in
some lonely and distant place. The next morning the king's son, going
out with some attendants, chanced to pass close to the spot where the
infant had been deposited. His attention having been attracted by the
noise of crows hovering close by, he went to see what it was. To his
great surprise, he saw an infant, yet breathing, half buried in rubbish.
Taken with the beauty of this little creature, the prince ordered the
child to be carried to the palace, where he was brought up with the
greatest care and attention. He was named Dzewaka, which means life,
because the prince, when he found him, inquired if he was alive. The
young lad, having reached the years of discretion, was unwilling to
remain in the palace, not occupied with any business. In order to afford
relief and comfort to his fellow-creatures, he resolved to study
medicine. He repaired to Benares, placed himself under the direction of
a famous physician, and soon became eminent by his extreme proficiency
in the profession. Having left his master, and begun practice in his own
name and for his own account, Dzewaka worked the most wonderful cures,
which soon procured to him unbounded wealth and an extraordinary
reputation.

Dzewaka was at the height of his fame, when, on a certain day, Buddha
happened to be troubled with bellyache. He called Ananda and said that
he wanted some medicine to relieve him from pain. Ananda went to the
place where lived the celebrated Dzewaka, and informed him of Buddha's
complaint. The doctor ordered first a rubbing of oil, which was to be
repeated three days after. This remedy not having a full effect, Dzewaka
took three lily flowers, whereupon he spread several powders, and came
to Buddha, saying, "Most glorious Phra, here is one lily flower, please
to smell it; this will be followed by ten motions. Here is a second one;
the smelling thereof will produce a similar effect; and this one will
cause the same result." Having handed over the three flowers, the doctor
paid his respects to Buddha, turned to the right, and left the
monastery.

When he was crossing the gate, he thought within himself, "I have given
a medicine calculated to cause thirty motions, but as the complaint is
rather of a serious and obstinate character, twenty-nine motions only
will take place; a warm bath would be required to produce the
thirtieth;" and with this reflection he departed. Buddha, who saw all
that passed in the doctor's mind, called Ananda and directed him to
prepare a warm bath. A little while after, Dzewaka came back to Buddha,
and explained to him his prescription. Buddha was soon restored to his
former health, and Dzewaka told him that the people were preparing to
make him offerings. Maukalan went to the son of Thauna, a rich man, to
get some rice from a field that had been watered with milk. The owner
gave rice to Maukalan and urged him to partake of it, assuring him that
there was some other in reserve for Buddha; Maukalan assented. After the
meal, his patta was cleaned with perfumed water, and filled with the
choicest food. Maukalan took it to Buddha, who ate it. Afterwards he
preached the law to the king and to an immense crowd; amongst them was
Thauna's son. They all obtained the first degree of perfection, but
Thauna reached at once the state of Arahat.

Dzewaka came again to Buddha's presence, and requested the favour of
presenting him with two splendid pieces of cloth, which he had received
in present from a king whom he had cured of a most distressing
distemper. Moreover, he wished that the Rahans should be allowed to
receive clothes of a better sort than those they were wont to wear.
Buddha received the two pieces and preached the law to the donor, who
attained the state of Thautapan. Dzewaka, rising from his place, wheeled
to the right and departed.

A little while after, Gaudama called the Rahans and said to them,
"Beloved Bickus, now I give permission to the faithful to make offerings
of cloth for your dress.[2] Whoever is pleased with his present dress,
let him wear it; whoever is disposed to receive some other from the
people, let him do so. But I must praise you for having hitherto been
satisfied with the ancient dress." The people of the city having heard
of the permission given to the Rahans, offered at once more than one
hundred thousand pieces of cloth. Their example was followed by the
people of the country, who made offerings to the same amount.

A little while after this, Buddha received a deputation from the
Wethalie people, inviting him to visit their country. Here is the reason
of the invitation. The country was very rich and flourishing. The Malla
princes governed it each in turn for a certain space of time. On a
sudden a terrific pestilence desolated the land, which was in a short
time strewed with dead bodies in every direction. In the midst of so
great a calamity some advised to propitiate the Nats, by making
offerings to them; others said that recourse must be had to the great
teachers; a third party insisted upon calling to their aid the great
Gaudama, who had appeared in this world for the purpose of saving
mankind. The last opinion prevailed. Having ascertained that he lived at
Radzagio, a great number of princes, pounhas, and nobles went to
Radzagio, with great presents for King Pimpathara, to induce him to
allow the great teacher to come to their country. The object of their
mission having become known, Buddha agreed to go. He sallied forth from
the Weloowon monastery, attended by the king as far as the southern bank
of the Ganges. Having reached the northern one, he was received with
every possible mark of the highest respect and veneration. As soon as he
set his feet in the country, a heavy rain fell which almost deluged the
land. The water carried away the dead bodies. The atmosphere was
purified, the pestilence ceased, and all the sick recovered. On the
fifth day after the full moon of Nayon (June), Buddha having conferred
such a favour to the people of Wethalie, left that country and returned
to Radzagio, which he reached on the full moon of Watso (July), just in
time to spend the fourth season in the Weloowon monastery.

Here is inserted a short sketch of the manner in which Buddha spent his
days during the rainy season, as the translator has found in one of the
manuscripts before him.

Each day was divided into five parts, and a certain occupation was
reserved to each part. 1. Buddha generally rose at an early hour, a
little after daybreak, washed his face, rinsed his mouth, and dressed.
He then retired into a private apartment. With his all-seeing eyes, he
glanced over all creatures, carefully examined the amount of their
merits and demerits, and the real nature of their dispositions. The
reason for his taking a survey of the state and condition of all beings
was to ascertain the dispositions of the various beings, and discern
those who were prepared to hear the preaching of truth from those who,
on account of their demerits, were as yet unprepared for receiving
beneficially for themselves such a great favour. When this was done, he
put on his full canonical dress, and, with the mendicant's pot under his
arm, he sallied forth in quest of his food. He invariably directed his
steps towards those places where he knew that his preachings would be
heard with beneficial results. Sometimes he went alone; at other times
he was attended with a certain number of his disciples. His countenance
bespoke an unaffected modesty and an inimitable mildness. Occasionally
he allowed a display of wonders to take place. Musical instruments
emitted, of themselves, sweet tunes, which, revealing to the people the
coming of Buddha, rejoiced their heart and disposed them to bestow
abundant alms, and to hear the preaching of the law. Some of the hearers
became Upasakas, others Thautapans, &c., &c., agreeably to every one's
disposition. Then he returned to his monastery.

2. As soon as he had arrived, he washed his feet, and during the
ablution he had his disciples assembled round him, and said to them,
"Beloved Bickus, be ever watchful and attentive, with a mind ever prone
to reflection. It is exceedingly difficult to obtain the nature of
man,[3] to hear the law, to become perfect, to obtain the state of
Rahanda, and to arrive to the condition of a Buddha." He then pointed
out to them some subjects of meditation. Many of the disciples devoted
themselves to mental labour; some combined together manual and mental
exertions; others withdrew to lonely places at the foot of certain
trees, and into the caves of neighbouring hills. Buddha then took his
meal, and retired for awhile alone into his own private apartment. When
he arose a little after mid-day, he anew contemplated all beings, and
fixed his attention on those that were to come and receive his
instructions. He soon came out, and at once began to impart instructions
to all those that had arrived, from what place soever. When the
instruction was completed, the people withdrew.

3. After the people's departure, Buddha bathed and took a walk in the
open verandah of the monastery. His mat, cushion, &c., were spread in a
becoming and open place. The Rahans hastened at that hour to come and
communicate freely the result of their mental exertions. When they
wanted any explanation, they were encouraged to put him questions,
which were instantly answered; and they received submissively the
answers which he condescended to give to them. This exercise lasted
until it was dark. The disciples retired from their master's presence.

4. After their departure, the Nats and other celestial beings were
admitted. Buddha conversed with and instructed them until nearly
midnight.

5. Buddha then walked awhile to relieve his limbs from extreme
lassitude, and went into his apartment to take some rest. He rose very
early, and began to review the beings who, during the days of former
Buddhas, had distinguished themselves by their exertions in the path of
virtue and in the high mental attainments.

During one of his usual benevolent errands through the country, Gaudama
converted Ouggasena, his wife and companions. Here is an abridged
narrative of that event. Ouggasena was the son of a rich man. In the
time of his youth a company of comedians came to Radzagio and exhibited
during seven days in the presence of King Pimpathara and his court. Our
young man, along with many of his companions, attended the exhibition.
On a sudden, he became passionately enamoured of a rope dancing-girl,
who performed many feats with accomplished grace and uncommon address.
Despite his parents' remonstrances and entreaties, he sacrificed to his
ungoverned passion all considerations, and he married the damsel. In his
new situation, he had no alternative but to learn the art of
rope-dancing, tumbling feats, and standing in various attitudes on the
extremity of posts or masts, sometimes sixty cubits high. During his
noviciate, he had to bear the laughter and taunts of his wife and of his
new friends. By dint of exertion he became proficient in the art of
performing tumblers' feats with a surprising agility. One day it was
announced at the sound of the drum that Ouggasena was to perform on the
top of a post sixty cubits high. An immense crowd of citizens went out
with great eagerness to see the performance. When the amusements had
just begun, Buddha happened to pass by with a number of disciples. He
desired Maukalan to go ahead, and begin to preach to Ouggasena. Soon he
came up himself in person, and converted the juggler, who forthwith
descended from his mast, prostrated himself before Buddha, and asked to
be admitted as a member of the assembly. After further instructions he
obtained the science of Rahanda. His wife and all the company became
likewise converts.[4]

Buddha had now fulfilled the promise he had formerly made to the ruler
of Radzagio, to spend three consecutive seasons in his royal city. He
went over to the Wethalie country, and fixed his residence in a fine
place, in the midst of a forest of sala-trees, called Mahawon. Whilst he
enjoyed himself in that place, a quarrel took place between a portion of
the people of Kappila and that of Kaulia, who lived on both banks of the
little river Rauhani. The cause of the dispute was the irrigation of
paddy-fields. The small river had been duly barred, but on account of an
unusual drought there was not water enough to supply the quantity
required for the fields on both banks. One party wanted to have all the
water, the other demurred. Hence a dispute arose which, wildfire-like,
spread from the banks of the stream all over both countries. A general
appeal to arms ensued, and, in a short time, both armies stood facing
each other in battle array.

At an early hour Buddha, having risen from his couch, cast, as usual, a
glance over all beings. He soon saw the feud that existed between the
country of his birth and that of Kaulia. Moved with compassion over the
miseries which that people, blinded by a furious passion, were bringing
upon themselves, he went through the air, and stood over and above the
stream which separated the two armies. Rays of glory, beaming out of his
person, soon attracted general attention. Both parties laid down their
arms and prostrated themselves, worshipping him. He said to them,
"Princes and warriors, hearken to my words. Which is the most valuable,
a small quantity of water or the lives of countless beings, and, in
particular, the lives of princes?" They answered, "Of course the lives
of princes and warriors are most valuable." "If so," retorted Buddha,
"lay aside your passion, conquer your anger, throw away your weapons of
destruction, love each other, and live in peace." Both parties, by a low
and prolonged tone of voice, expressed their deep regret at what they
had done, and their sincere desire to follow his instructions. He
preached to them the law in such an impressive and convincing manner
that on the spot two hundred and fifty noblemen of Kappila and the same
number of Kaulia asked for admittance among the members of the assembly.

The instruction they had heard, and which had determined their vocation,
had not had time to cast deep roots in their hearts. They soon regretted
their home, their families, and their former gay life. Buddha, who saw
what was going on in their souls, said to them, "Will you come with me,
and enjoy yourselves on the green banks of the beautiful lake Kontala?"
They joyfully accepted the proposal. By the power inherent in his
nature, Buddha took them through the air, and soon reached the lake.
They alighted on its banks. Delighted with the beautiful scenery that
surrounded them, and ignorant of the new objects which they saw, they
interrogated Buddha about the names of the new plants and fruits which
they perceived. Gaudama condescended to answer all their questions.
While thus engaged they saw the king of the birds of the lake resting on
the branch of a tree. On a sudden five hundred birds of the same kind
came crowding round their chief, and, by their cries and various
attitudes, testified the happiness which they felt at being in his
company.

The new converts wondered at the admirable instinct of those birds, and
communicated to each other their mutual surprise. As an accomplished
teacher, Buddha availed himself of the opportune moment, and said to
them in a mild manner, "Beloved disciples, what you see now and admire
is the lively and true image of my family." So effectually was the
instruction conveyed that they all at once became Thautapan, and no
longer thought of returning into the world. By the virtue inherent in
their new position, they were enabled to fly through the air, and they
returned with Buddha into the Mahawon residence.

On their arrival, Buddha began his fifth season in that same place. It
was in the middle of that season, in the month of Wakhaong (August),
that he heard that his father had been seized with a violent distemper,
which left him no rest either day or night. Sensible of his approaching
end, Thoodaudana ardently wished to see his son for the last time. In
the morning, at the hour when Buddha was reviewing all beings, and
examining with a compassionate heart their respective condition, he saw
the sad and painful position of his royal father. He instantly
summoned, by the means of Ananda, a select band of disciples, and
flying through the air, alighted with his company in front of the
palace. Without a moment's delay he ascended to the upper apartments,
and sat on a place prepared for him, near the head of the couch upon
which lay the royal patient.

Buddha, recollecting himself awhile, and then laying one of his hands on
his father's head, said, "By the virtue of the merits I have acquired
during countless existences, by the power of the fruits gathered during
forty-nine days round the tree Bodi, let this head be forthwith relieved
from all pain." It happened so in the twinkling of an eye. Nan, or
Nanda, the younger brother of Buddha, the son of his aunt Patzapati,
holding the right hand of his father, said with a fervent earnestness,
"By the merits that I have obtained at the feet of Buddha, let this
right hand be freed from all pain." And perfect cure instantly followed.
Ananda, Phra's first cousin, held the left arm. Thariputra laid his hand
on the back, Maukalan grasped the feet. All of them with a similar faith
uttered such like prayers, and the same happy result invariably
followed. Thoodaudana was delivered from all pain. But he continued to
remain very weak.

Buddha, profiting by that favourable opportunity, preached to his father
the law of mutability, and gave him many and truly seasonable
instructions on that most important subject. With such a persuasive
language did he expound this favourite doctrine that his father became
at once a Rahanda. At the same time he distinctly informed him that
seven days hence the end of his life would inevitably happen.
Thoodaudana, perfectly prepared for the new change, that is to say, for
death, by his son's instructions, and thoroughly resigned, saw before
him the true state of Neibban, and said, "Now I clearly perceive the
instability of all things. I am free from all passions. I am completely
disentangled from the trammels of existence." Rocking himself in the
bosom of these comforting truths, he spent happily the few days he had
yet to live. On the last day, and for the last time, he paid his
respects to Buddha by worshipping him. Sitting then on his couch, the
royal patient humbly asked pardon in the presence of all his attendants
for all offences he had committed by thoughts, words, and deeds. Having
performed this act of sincere humility, he consoled his wife Patzapati,
who sat bathed in tears, as well as the other members of the royal
family, and several times repeated before them the great truth--that all
beings, when they come into existence, have within, inherent in their
nature, a principle of death that hurries them to their end and
dissolution; that the same principle that has brought near and united
beings together is always opposed, and at last overpowered by the
opposite one that tends to separate them. He then placidly lay on his
couch, and gently breathed his last in the day of the full moon of
Wakhaong, on a Saturday, at the rising of the sun, in the year of the
Eetzana, era 107, at the advanced age of ninety-seven years.

Gaudama, after his father's demise, when all the Rahans were assembled
round the deathbed, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, behold my father's
remains. He is no longer what he was a little while ago. He has
undergone the change. No one can offer an effectual and lasting
resistance to the principle of death, inherent in all beings. Be
diligent in the practice of good works: follow steadily the four roads
leading to perfection." After this lecture, he consoled his aunt
Patzapati and the other ladies of the court, who, with dishevelled hair,
were wailing aloud and striking their breasts. He minutely explained to
them the consequences resulting from the great principle of mutability,
which pervades all beings and infallibly leads them to destruction by
the separation of their constitutive parts.

When the instruction was finished, Buddha directed Kathaba to go and
prepare the spot on which the funeral and cremation of the corpse were
to take place. Aided by Thariputra, he washed the corpse, which was
subsequently placed in great state, on a magnificent and lofty
catafalco, raised for the purpose. The princes of Thekkara, Thoopawa,
and Weritzara, came to attend the royal funeral and offer presents. The
corpse was carried processionally through the principal streets of the
city at the sound of all musical instruments. Buddha, in person,
received the corpse, and laid it on the funeral pile. To no one else
would he leave the honourable and pious task of setting fire to it. On
that occasion there took place an indescribable outburst of wailings and
lamentings. The impassible Buddha preached the law on that occasion. He
left aside all praises in behalf of the deceased. He was satisfied with
announcing the law; and countless beings, both among men and Nats,
obtained the deliverance.

After the loss of her royal husband, Queen Patzapati, profoundly
impressed with all that she had seen and heard, desired to renounce the
world and embrace a religious mode of life. For that purpose she came to
the presence of Buddha, and asked three times the permission to follow
her inclination and become Rahaness. Three times the solicited favour
was denied her. Buddha then left his own native country and returned to
Wethalie, fixing his abode in the Gutagaia-thala monastery, in the
Mahawon forest.

Buddha had not been long in this place when he had to grant the request
which he at first refused to his aunt Patzapati. The wives of the
princes of the Kappila and Kaulia countries, who, to the number of 500,
had recently renounced the world, desired also to follow the example set
before them by their husbands. They went to the queen's apartments and
communicated to her their design, entreating her to help them in
obtaining the object of their wishes. Patzapati not only promised them
her support, but expressed the determination to join their company. As a
token of the sincerity and earnestness of their resolution, all the
ladies, without the least hesitation, cut their beautiful black hair,
put on a dress in accordance with their pious intentions, and resolutely
set out on foot in the direction of the Wethalie country.

Unused to such bodily exertions, the pious pilgrims suffered much during
their long journey. At last, worn out with fatigue, covered with dust,
they arrived near the Mahawon monastery. They respectfully stopped at
the gate, and requested an interview with Ananda. The latter, having
ascertained from their own mouth the object of their pious and fatiguing
errand, hastened into the presence of Buddha, and entreated him to grant
the earnest and praiseworthy demand of his aunt and of the other ladies,
her companions. On hearing the request, Buddha, for a while, remained
silent, as if deliberating on the answer he had to give. Then he said:
"Ananda, it is not expedient to allow women to embrace the religious
state; otherwise my institutions shall not last long." Ananda,
undismayed by that reply, respectfully reminded Buddha of all the
favours he had received from Patzapati, who had nursed and brought him
up with the utmost care and tenderness, from the day his mother died,
when he was but seven days old, and represented with a fervent
earnestness the good dispositions of the pious postulants. Buddha's
scruples were overcome by the persuasive language of the faithful
Ananda. He asked whether women could observe the eight precepts: and
added, that in case they would consent to bind themselves to a correct
observance of them, they might be admitted as members of the assembly.

Fully satisfied with the answer he had obtained, the venerable Ananda
saluted Buddha, and hastened to the gate of the monastery, where his
return was impatiently awaited. On hearing the good news, Patzapati, in
the name of her companions, spoke to Ananda: "Venerable Ananda, we all
rejoice that the favour so often asked for has been at last granted unto
us. As a young maid, who has bathed, and washed her hair, is anxiously
desirous to put on her fine ornaments, as she receives with delight the
beautiful and fragrant nosegays that are offered to her, so we are
longing for the eight precepts, and wish for admittance into the
assembly." They all promised to observe the rules of their new
profession to the end of their lives. Yathaudara and Dzanapada-kaliani
were among these converts. They all, owing to their former meritorious
works, became subsequently Rahandas.

One of the new female converts seemed to have retained as yet a certain
admiration of and fondness for her handsome features, and secretly
prided herself on her beauty. Buddha, who quickly perceived the latent
enemy lurking in the folds of her heart, resorted to the following
expedient to correct her. On a certain day, when the proud and vain
woman was in his presence, he created in an instant a consummate beauty,
who as much exceeded her in perfection of form as the snow-white swan
surpasses the black crow. Whilst she looked on this suddenly appearing
rival with somewhat jealous eyes, Buddha caused the beauty of his
creation to appear on a sudden very old, with a wrinkled face and an
emaciated frame, and to exhibit on her person all the various and
disgusting inroads which the most loathsome diseases make on the human
body. The change acted as an electric shock on the young religious
woman. When Gaudama perceived the change, and that she was so horrified
at such a sight that she was nearly fainting, he said to her: "Behold,
my daughter, the faithful foreshowing of what shall inevitably happen to
that form you are so proud of." He had scarcely spoken those words, when
she was instantly and for ever cured of her vanity.

Buddha left Wethalie and went on the Makula mountain, where he spent his
sixth season. During his stay in that place thousands of people were
converted and obtained the deliverance. At the end of that season,
Buddha went to Radzagio, and stayed in the Weloowon monastery.

It was at that time that Kema, the first queen of King Pimpathara, proud
of her rank, youth, and beauty, was at last converted. Up to that time
she had obstinately refused to see Buddha and hear his doctrine. On a
certain day, the queen went to visit a garden which was in the
neighbourhood of the Weloowon grove. By a contrivance of the king, her
husband, she was brought, almost against her will, into the presence of
Buddha, who worked out the spiritual cure of her foolish vanity by a
process similar to the one above mentioned. He caused a beautiful female
of his creation to pass successively, in the queen's presence, through
the various stages of old age, disease, and death. Her mind having been
thus well prepared to hear his instructions, Buddha gave her a
lengthened explanation of the miseries attending the body. It had the
desirable effect to convert her in so perfect a manner that she entered
into the current of perfection, and became Thautapan. After having
obtained the consent of her lord, she was, upon her pressing
solicitations, admitted into the religious order. She became a Rahanda,
and among the female members of the assembly she ranked as the disciple
of the right. Such a glorious charge was owing to her former merits.

On a certain day, a rich man of the country of Radzagio went to enjoy
himself on the banks of the river Ganges. That man was not a disciple of
Buddha, nor did he hold the doctrines of the opposite party. He steered
a middle course between both doctrines, with a mind disposed, however,
to embrace such opinions as should appear to him based on the best and
strongest evidence. Chance offered him a favourable opportunity to
acknowledge the superiority of Buddha over his opponents. He saw a log
of sandal-wood floating on the stream, took it up, and had a beautiful
patta made of it. When finished, he wrote upon it these words, "He who
can fly in the air let him take it." The patta was raised on the top of
a succession of hampers, tied together, and sixty cubits high. Some
heretics living in the neighbourhood asked on successive occasions the
rich man to get down the patta for them; he answered them that he would
give it only to him who by flight could reach it. The head man of those
heretics feigned to prepare himself to fly; but when he was extending
his arms, and raising one of his feet, his disciples, according to a
preconcerted plan, seized him, saying, "It is not becoming that you
should exert yourself for such a trifle." But the wily rich man could
not be thus deceived; he persisted in his former resolution, and for six
days resisted all their entreaties. On the seventh day Maukalan happened
to go to that place in search of his food. He was informed of all that
had just happened. He was, moreover, told that the rich man and all his
family would become disciples under him who could by flight possess
himself of the sandal-wood patta. Maukalan was ready, for the glory of
Buddha, to raise himself in the air, but his companion refused to allow
him to do it, saying that such an easy work could easily be accomplished
by one less advanced in merits. Maukalan agreed to his proposal.
Whereupon entering into the fourth state of Dzan, his companion rose in
the air, carrying with the toes of one of his feet an enormous rock
three-quarters of a youdzana wide. The whole space between him and the
bystanders appeared darkened. Every one was half dead with fear, lest,
perhaps, it should fall over his head. Maukalan's companion had the rock
split into two parts, and his person then appeared to the view of the
assembled crowd. After having during a whole day exhibited such a mighty
power, he caused the rock to fall on the place he had taken it from. The
rich man bade him come down, fully satisfied with the display of such
power. The sandal-wood patta was taken down, filled with the best rice,
and presented to him. The Rahan received it and went back to his
monastery. Many persons living at a distance from the place where the
wonder had been exhibited, followed him to the monastery, begging him to
show some other signs.

As they approached the monastery, Buddha hearing the noise, inquired
what it was. He was informed of all the particulars of the event that
had just taken place. He called the Rahan into his presence, took the
patta, had it broken into pieces and reduced to dust.[5] He then forbade
the Rahan ever to make such a display of his power.

The heretics soon heard of the prohibition issued by Gaudama to his
disciples. They thought that no one would dare to match them in the
display of wonders, and that they could easily ascertain their
superiority over him. The ruler of Radzagio, hearing of this news, went
to Buddha and inquired as to his motive for such a prohibition. Buddha
told him that the prohibition regarded his disciples only, but not
himself. The heretics, informed of this, said, "What will become of us?
Gaudama himself will show signs." They held a council among themselves
as to what was to be done. Gaudama told the king that in four months he
would make a grand display of his miraculous power in the country of
Thawattie, as it was in that place that all former Buddhas had in former
ages showed signs. The heretics from that day never lost sight of Buddha
for a moment; they followed him day and night. They gave orders that a
large and extensive covered place should be prepared for them, where
they might show their power and outshine that of the Rahan Gaudama.
Buddha having said that he would select the spot where a white
mango-tree stood for the scene of his miracles, the heretics caused the
total destruction of all mango-trees in that direction.

On the full moon of Tabaong (February), Gaudama left Radzagio, attended
by a large retinue of disciples. He went to preach in different parts.
On the seventh of the waxing moon of Watso he entered the country of
Thawattie. A gardener gave him by way of present a large mango fruit.
Ananda prepared the fruit and Buddha ate it. When this was done, the
stone was handed to Ananda with an injunction to plant it in a place
prepared to receive it. When planted, Buddha washed his hands over it,
and on a sudden there sprang up a beautiful white mango-tree, fifty
cubits high, with large branches loaded with blossoms and fruits. To
prevent its being destroyed, a guard was set near it by the king's
order. Dismayed at such a wonderful sign, the heretics fled in every
direction to conceal their shame and confusion. Their head man, named
Pourana, took from a husbandman a large jar with a rope, tied up the
vessel with one extremity of the rope, passed the other round his neck,
and flinging first the jar and next himself into the river, where the
water was very deep, he was drowned, and went to the lowest hell, called
Awidzi.

Buddha created in the air an immense road, reaching east and west to the
extremities of the world. When the sun began to verge towards the west,
he thought the time had come to ascend to that road in the presence of
an immense crowd, that covered an area of thirty-six youdzanas, and
there make a display of his wonderful powers. He was on the point of
crossing the threshold of the building that had been erected for him by
the care of Nats, when a female convert, named Garamie, who had become
an Anagam, came into his presence, and after the usual prostrations said
to him, "Glorious Buddha, it is not necessary that you should take the
trouble of working wonders; I, your servant, will do it." "What wonder
will you work, my daughter, Garamie?" replied Buddha. "I will," said
Garamie, "fill up the space with water, and plunging into the water in
an eastern direction, I will come back, and reappear in the west like a
water-fowl. On my appearance before the crowd they will ask, What is
this water-fowl? And I will answer to them, that this water-fowl is
Garamie, the daughter of the most excellent Buddha. This is the wonder I
will accomplish. The heretics, on seeing it, will say to themselves, If
such be the power of Garamie, how much greater and more wonderful must
be that of Buddha himself?" "I know," said Buddha, "that you have such a
power, but it is not for your sake that these crowds have been gathered
together;" and he refused the solicited permission. Garamie said to
herself, Buddha would not allow me to work this great wonder, but there
is some one else that can do greater things than I; perhaps Buddha will
not be so inflexible with them as he is with me. She then withdrew to a
becoming place.

Buddha thought within himself, There are many among my disciples who can
make a display of great wonders; it is meet that the crowds should be
aware of it, and see how, with hearts stout as that of the lion, they
are ready to perform the most wonderful feats. He said aloud, "Who are
they that can do wonders? let them come forward." Many came into his
presence with a lion-like boldness and a thundering voice, craving for
the honour of displaying supernatural powers. Among them was a rich
man, named Anatapein; a female child, called Tsera; a grown-up woman,
and Maukalan. They volunteered their services to perform the most
extraordinary wonders, in order both to frighten the heretics, and make
them understand that, if such a power belonged to the disciples, what
that of Buddha himself must be. But Buddha would not accept their
proffered services, and said to them that the people had not been
assembled there for their sake, but for his; and that to him alone was
reserved the task of enrapturing the crowds by the great wonders he was
preparing to show. Addressing Maukalan, he said to him that, being a
Buddha, he could not leave to others the trouble of performing his own
duty. In a former existence, when he was a bullock, he drew from a muddy
place a heavily-laden cart, to save a Brahmin's property and rejoice his
heart.

Buddha ascended to the immense road which he had created in the air in
the presence of the crowd, that filled a place of eighteen youdzanas in
breadth and twenty-four in length. These wonders which he was about to
display were the result of his own wisdom, and could not be imitated by
any one. He caused a stream of water to issue from the upper part of his
body and flames of fire from the lower part, and on a sudden the reverse
to take place; again fire issued from his right eye, and streams of
water from his left eye, and so on from his nostrils, ears, right and
left, in front and behind. The same wonder too happened in such a way
that the streams of fire succeeded the streams of water, but without
mingling with each other. Each stream in an upward direction reached the
seats of Brahmas; each stream in a downward direction penetrated as far
as hell; each in a horizontal direction reached the extremities of the
world. From each of his hairs the same wonderful display feasted the
astonished eyes of the assembled people. The six glories gushed, as it
were, from every part of his body, and, made it appear resplendent
beyond description. Having no one to converse with, he created a
personage, who appeared to walk with him. Sometimes he sat down, while
his companion was pacing along; and at other times he himself walked,
whilst his interlocutor was either standing or sitting. All the while
Buddha put to him questions which he readily answered, and in his turn
replied to the interrogations that were made to him. At intervals Phra
preached to the crowd, who were exceedingly rejoiced, and sung praises
to him. According to their good dispositions, he expounded the various
points of the law. The people who heard him and saw the wonderful works
he performed, obtained the understanding of the four great principles.

Buddha, having completed the twofold work of preaching to the crowds,
and exciting their respect and admiration by the most astonishing
display of the most extraordinary miracles, began to think within
himself as follows: To what place have all former Buddhas resorted after
the display of signs, and spent the season? He saw by a stretch of his
incomparable foresight that all of them had gone to the seat of
Tawadeintha, in the Nats' country, to announce the perfect law to their
mothers. He resolved to go thither too. With one step he reached the
summit of the mountain Ugando, at a distance of 160,000 youdzanas, and
another step carried him to the top of the Mienmo mountain. This was
done without any effort on the part of Buddha. Those mountains lowered
their summits to the very spot where he was standing, and rose up again
to resume their lofty position. Buddha found himself brought almost
instantaneously to the seat of Tawadeintha.[6] He took his position on
the immense rock Pantukambala. When he lay extended there upon his
tsiwaran, the huge mass on a sudden contracted itself to the very narrow
dimensions of his dress.

The people who had seen Buddha, and who could not now descry him, found
themselves in a state of bereavement, as if the sun and the moon had
disappeared from the sky. They gave full vent to their cries and
lamentations, saying: We are now deprived of the blessed presence of him
who is the most excellent among the three sorts of beings, men, Nats,
and Brahmas. Some said he has gone to this place; some replied, no, he
has gone to that place. Many of the people, who had just arrived from
different parts of the country, were exceedingly grieved, because they
could not see him. They all repaired before Maukalan, to ascertain from
him what place Buddha had gone to. Maukalan knew it, but he wished to
leave to Anourouda the honour of satisfying their curiosity. The latter
said to them that Buddha had gone to the seat of Tawadeintha to preach
the law to his mother, and spend there one season on the rock of
Pantukambala. He added, that he would be back in three months hence, on
the day of the full moon of Thadin-kioot (October). They came to the
spontaneous resolution to remain on that very spot, and not to return
to their homes, until they had seen Buddha a second time. They erected
temporary sheds; and, though the place was small for such a countless
multitude, they managed to accommodate themselves in the best way they
could. Previous to his departure, Buddha had enjoined on Maukalan to
remain with the people and preach to them the law. Maukalan faithfully
complied with the request, and during three consecutive months
instructed the people, and answered all their questions. The rich man
Anatapein fed the Rahans and the assembly abundantly during the whole
time.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] It is impossible to assign the motive that induced the
    compiler of Buddha's life to insert in his work a long episode
    on the celebrated physician Dzewaka. The story is in itself
    uninteresting, and throws no light whatever on the history of
    the supposed originator or reformer of Buddhism. For this reason
    it has been thought quite unnecessary to give a complete
    translation of the whole passage. The name of Dzewaka is quite
    familiar to the adepts of the medical art in Burmah. Many times
    the writer has made inquiries respecting the works of the
    Hippocrates of India, but he has never been able to meet with
    mention of or allusion to such compositions. Hence he has been
    led to suppose that the father of medicine in these countries
    has left behind him no writings to embody the results of his
    theoretical and practical favourite pursuits. Surgery appears to
    have been no novelty with our great doctor, since we see him on
    an occasion extracting from the body of a prince, by means of an
    incision, a snake that put his life in peril.

    The numerous quacks who in Burmah assume the name of physicians,
    and are ever ready to give medicines in all cases, even the most
    difficult and complicated, are ignorant of the very elements of
    the surgical art. They possess a certain number of remedies,
    made up of plants, which, when applied under proper
    circumstances and in certain cases, work wonderful cures. But
    the native physicians, unable in most instances to discern the
    true symptoms of diseases, prescribe remedies at random, and
    obtain, in too many cases, results most fatal to the unfortunate
    patient. In medicine as well as in religion, ignorance begets
    superstition and recourse to magical practices. We may
    positively assert that the black art is, with native
    practitioners, an essential concomitant to the practice of
    medicine. When a physician has exhausted the limited stock of
    remedies that he possesses, and he finds, in spite of his
    exertions, that the disease bids defiance to his skill, he
    gravely tells the relatives of the patient that some evil spirit
    is interfering with his remedies, and that he must be expelled
    ere there can be any chance of relieving the sufferer and
    obtaining his recovery. Whereupon a shed is erected with the
    utmost speed on a spot close to the house of the patient.
    Offerings of rice, fruits, and other articles are made to the
    pretended evil spirit, who is supposed to have got hold of the
    sufferer's body. Dances of the most frantic character are
    carried on by his relatives. Males will only officiate in
    default of females; preference is always given to the latter.
    Young girls, say the Burmese, are the fittest persons for the
    occasion, as it is supposed that the evil Nat is more
    effectually and easily propitiated by the power of their charms.
    This exercise lasts until, strength at last failing them, they
    drop down in a state of complete exhaustion and prostration.
    They appear as if they had entirely lost their senses. In that
    state they are supposed to be inspired by the evil spirit.
    Interrogated by the physician on the nature of the disease, and
    the proper remedies to be applied for eradicating it, they give
    answers, or rather they become channels through which the
    spirit, satisfied with the offerings made in his honour,
    condescends to declare that he has now left the patient, and
    that by placing him under a certain treatment, which he fails
    not to indicate, he will soon recover his health. Occurrences of
    this nature are exceedingly common. They are called by the
    natives festivals of the _Nat-pan_, or of the possessing spirit.

    [2] The first followers of Buddha, observing a mode of life much
    resembling that of the Rathees, had hitherto made use of the
    dress they had purchased previous to their leaving the world.
    But when they became professed members of the new society, they
    were subjected to the observance of the vow of strict poverty,
    and had to depend entirely on public charity for the obtaining
    of the required food and raiment. The old clothes brought at the
    time of their entering the society were worn out and unfit to be
    put on. Others were to be provided for by some means that would
    not wound the delicate feeling of absolute poverty. The only one
    that occurred was the willing and liberal dispositions of the
    lay members of the Buddhist community. This new source of
    abundant alms was opened by our Buddha himself, on the occasion
    of the offering made by Dzewaka. Desiring likewise to do away
    with the scruples many religious might entertain respecting the
    lawfulness or unlawfulness of receiving articles of dress,
    Gaudama laid it down as a regulation that all the religious
    could lawfully accept all that might be willingly offered them
    by the faithful. In the foregoing pages we have seen the founder
    of Buddhism granting to his followers permission to receive
    houses and landed properties presented to communities. Now the
    same legislator, adhering to the same principle, gives a fuller
    development thereto, and extends to articles necessary for dress
    the leave to receive offerings of this description, proffered by
    the faithful to the religious. In the book of Buddhist
    ordinations, or promotion to the degree of Patzin, mention is
    made of these two sorts of permissions given to the Rahans.

    [3] It was at that moment that Gaudama delighted to reveal to
    his disciples the most startling points of his doctrine, and
    made them familiar with certain tenets upon which he laid much
    stress. He wished that what he looked upon as subjects of the
    greatest importance, should be come familiar to them. No doubt
    he intended that those favourite topics should become the
    spiritual food upon which his disciples' minds should feed
    during the hours devoted to meditation. Those who are
    uninitiated in the doctrines of Buddhism will not understand the
    meaning of such an expression. It is difficult to obtain the
    nature of man. Such language is, however, in perfect accordance
    with the principles of that system. A being, who is in one of
    the four states of punishment, that of an animal, for instance,
    shall have, in many instances, to pass through an immense number
    of various existences, ere he can escape from the circle of
    animal existences, and at last emerge into that of man. To give
    us an idea of the excessive difficulties a being has to
    encounter, they make use of the following comparison. Let us
    suppose that a needle be dropped from one of the seats of
    Brahmas, and at the same time a man on earth be keeping another
    needle with the point upwards. It will be more easy for the two
    needles' extremities to come in contact one with the other, than
    it will be to a being in the condition of animal to reach the
    state of man. On the same principle one can easily imagine what
    mighty efforts must be made during countless existences ere a
    simple man can obtain all the qualifications necessary for
    enabling him to become a Buddha. The theory of Gaudama, on this
    point, resembles much that of some modern thinkers who preach
    the perfectibility of man to an almost infinite degree.

    [4] The conversion of Ouggasena and of his companions, procured
    by the direct intervention of Buddha himself, is another
    instance of the truly liberal spirit which animated the great
    preacher. His law was intended for all without exception. The
    profession of these individuals whom he so peculiarly selected
    was far from being a respectable one. The proud Brahmin would
    not have condescended to take notice of people who, in his
    opinion, had degraded themselves so low. But the new teacher,
    though born from parents belonging to a high caste, entirely
    free from the prejudices inculcated by the narrow spirit of
    caste, rose himself to such a high position as to look upon man,
    whatever his condition or position might be, as a fellow-being
    fully entitled to the benefit of his instructions. This is one
    of the most striking features of his preachings, its
    universality as regards persons and places. It enables us to
    account for the rapid and astonishing diffusion of his doctrines
    through so many countries. It constitutes the essential and
    capital difference between the two great systems which, in days
    long passed by, have contested for the religious supremacy over
    the Indian peninsula.

    In the subsequent story of Thoodaudana's illness, we see Buddha
    first, then Ananda, Thariputra, and Maukalan relieving the
    illustrious patient from his bodily distemper, by invoking, not
    the interference of a supreme Being, whom they ignore, but a
    certain power or influence connected with former good deeds. A
    great, nay, a miraculous, effect is produced by the agency of a
    cause which no one but a Buddhist can understand. He has
    recourse to _kan_, or the influence resulting from meritorious
    actions, as to a mighty agent who has the power to work any
    desired result whatever. But how a man can by his own will
    control the influence of his good actions, so as to produce a
    grand effect in no way short of a miracle, is a thing which can
    in no rational way be explained or accounted for.

    [5] The rebuke given by Buddha to the disciple who had, without
    permission, made such a display of miraculous power, intended
    though it was for the promotion of his glory, was designed to
    operate as a salutary check on the pride that might find its way
    into the heart of even the most privileged beings. Such a lesson
    was deemed of the greatest importance, since we find in the book
    of Buddhistic ordinations the sin of boasting of or pretending
    to the power of working wonders, &c., ranked among the four
    capital sins, excluding a Rahan for ever from the society of the
    perfect, and depriving him of his rank and dignity. Buddha, it
    seems, wished to reserve to himself alone the honour of working
    miracles, or to give the permission, when circumstances should
    require it, to some of his disciples to do the same in his name
    and for the exaltation of his religion.

    The following story of Purana and his five associates holds a
    prominent rank among the events that have rendered Buddha so
    celebrated. Gaudama, as it has been already mentioned in some
    foregoing notes, was an ascetic who had studied philosophy under
    eminent masters who belonged to the Brahminical school. In many
    of his opinions, as well as in his mode of life, there was no
    perceptible difference between him and the followers of the
    Brahmins. The writings of the latter, as well as those of the
    earliest Buddhists, exhibit to us the sight of a great number of
    schools; where opinions on ontology, morals, and dogmas, &c., at
    once various, multifarious, and opposite, were publicly taught.
    Then the human mind, left to its own resources, launching forth
    into the boundless field of speculative philosophy, ran in every
    direction, searching after truth. The mania for arguing,
    defining, drawing conclusions, &c., in those days, prevailed to
    an extent scarcely to be credited. Many centuries before
    Aristotle wrote the rules of dialectics, the Indian philosophers
    had carried the art of reasoning to a great degree of nicety and
    shrewdness. Witness the disputes and discussions between the
    Brahmins and the immediate disciples of Buddha. When our Phra
    began to attract about his person crowds of hearers and
    disciples; when his opinions on the end of man were understood
    and appreciated; when the system of castes received the first
    shock from the new but rapidly progressing doctrine; when the
    eyes and hearts of the people were slowly at first, and rapidly
    afterwards, centred on the new preacher and his disciples; when
    at last alms, that had hitherto flowed into the abodes of the
    Brahmins, began to enter into new channels and carry their
    substantial produce to the door of the followers of the new
    sect, then jealousy and other passions began to agitate the
    hearts of those who had hitherto retained an undisputed sway
    over the credulity of the people. They tried, if credit be given
    to the works of Buddhists, every effort and devised every means
    in order to oppose the progress of the new doctrine.

    In this instance, Purana and his friends, assisted, as the
    Buddhists pretend, by the agency of the evil one, wished to
    enter into discussion with Buddha and to surpass him in the
    display of miraculous power. The contest was to take place in
    the country of Thawattie, in the presence of the king and of a
    countless multitude assembled for the purpose. Purana, as usual
    with Buddhists in regard to those who held opinions different
    from their own, is styled a heretic. Of the opinions of the
    enemies of Buddha nothing is said in the present work, but the
    writer has had the opportunity of perusing another work where a
    slight allusion is made to those six holders of heterodox
    doctrines. Their opinions were at variance on the beginning of
    this world, the eternity of matter, the existence of the soul,
    and a first principle, creator of all that exists. We may infer
    therefrom that they were heads or chiefs of various schools,
    who, though not agreeing among themselves upon purely
    speculative doctrines, united and combined against the common
    enemy. A detailed account of the doctrines held by these six
    heretics would prove highly interesting, as it would throw some
    light on the very obscure and imperfectly known history of
    Indian philosophy, in the days when Buddhism assumed the shape
    of a religious system. To those who are unacquainted with Indian
    literature, the great progress made by Hindus in philosophical
    sciences at such an early period may appear somewhat doubtful:
    but modern discoveries made all over the Indian peninsula leave
    not the least doubt respecting this startling assertion. At a
    period when Greece and the other regions of Europe were sunk in
    a state of complete ignorance, most of the branches of
    literature were successfully cultivated on the banks of the
    Ganges. The study of philosophy always supposes a great
    intellectual advancement. There would, therefore, be no rashness
    whatever in asserting that the present state and condition of
    India, as regards literary progress, are much below the mark
    that was attained at such a remote period. The epoch of literary
    decadence began with the devastating expeditions of the
    fanatical Moslem in the tenth century. It is probable, too, that
    the religious and sanguinary conflicts between the Buddhists and
    Brahminists have had their share in bringing about a similar
    result. The latter, having obtained the ascendancy over their
    adversaries, became more bigoted. They would no longer tolerate,
    to the same extent as before, the liberty of elaborating new
    systems, lest some successful philosopher might hereafter
    propagate opinions at variance with their own, undermine the
    mighty fabric of their creed, and endanger the holding of that
    absolute sway and paramount influence they had recovered, after
    centuries of a deadly contest with the disciples of the
    philosopher of Kapilawot.

    [6] The preachings of Buddha were not to be confined to the
    narrow limits of man's abode; they were designed to reach much
    further. All beings living in the six seats of Nats were to
    share with men the blessings of the publication of the perfect
    law. It has been already stated at length, in a foregoing note,
    that the condition of Nats is merely a state of pleasure and
    enjoyment allotted to those who in former existences had done
    some meritorious work. The fortunate inhabitants of these
    celestial regions remain in those seats until the sum of their
    respective merits being, as it were, exhausted, they return to
    the abode of man, the true place of probation for all beings
    living therein. The condition of Nat, therefore, is not a
    permanent one; the Nat, after his time of reward is over, has to
    migrate to our terrestrial abode, begin a new existence, and
    endeavour to advance himself in the way of perfection by the
    practice of virtue. He is as yet very far from the state of
    Neibban. Like man, he has to learn the sublime law, and to
    become acquainted with the roads leading to the four high
    perfections. Buddha, who came to announce the law of salvation
    to all beings, could not but go to the seats of Nats, and teach
    them the way to free themselves from the turmoil of never-ending
    existence. The preachings of Buddha for three consecutive months
    were attended with a success that must have exceeded his most
    sanguine expectations. Millions of Nats were converted, and
    forthwith obtained the deliverance. Others less advanced in
    merits obtained the first, or second, or third state of
    perfection.

    During his stay in the other seats of Nats, Buddha gave a
    decision on the merits of almsgiving, which is certainly to the
    advantage of the yellow-dressed Bickus, but appears somewhat
    opposed to all principles of justice and reason. In his opinion
    the inward dispositions of him who gives alms has nothing to do
    with the merits resulting from such a good work. Those merits
    are strictly proportionate to the degree of sanctity or
    perfection of him who receives alms. Such doctrine, destructive
    of the purest and noblest motives that can actuate man to do
    good, is openly upheld now both in theory and practice by the
    Buddhist monks. When they receive alms from the admirers of
    their saintly mode of life, they never think of returning thanks
    to those who so liberally administer to all their material
    wants; they content themselves with saying, Thadoo, thadoo; that
    is to say, Well, well; and the pious offerer withdraws perfectly
    satisfied and happy, relying on the merits he has gained on this
    occasion, and longing for another opportunity of doing the like.
    The liberality of the laity towards the religious is carried to
    an excess scarcely to be credited. Government do not interfere
    in the maintenance of the perfect, and yet they are abundantly
    supplied with all the necessaries, nay, the luxuries, of life.
    They live on the fat of the land.

    That the crowds of people might be better prepared for hearing
    the sacred law and obtaining a correct understanding of it,
    Buddha charges Maukalan to a regular fast, or at least
    abstinence, carried to a considerable degree. A free and copious
    use of nourishing substances unfits man for mental exertions,
    occasions in him heaviness and supineness, enervates and weakens
    the vigour of the intellect, and gives to matter a
    preponderating influence over the soul. The advice will hold
    good everywhere, but it becomes particularly pressing and
    stringent when addressed to an audience of Buddhists, who
    require the full force of their mind to be able to understand
    the various bearings of a doctrine resting on the most abstruse
    principles, the end of which too is to disentangle the soul from
    the influence of materiality. Up to this day in Burmah there are
    some remnants of the observance of fast during the three months
    of Lent, when the law is oftener expounded to and better
    observed by religious people. The obligation of fasting during
    the days of the quarters of the moon is generally admitted, and
    some few observe it, if not always, at least from time to time.
    The generality of the Burmese people entirely disregard fasting.

    Curious but interesting is the reply Buddha gave to Thariputra,
    who rejoiced exceedingly because men and Nats vied with each
    other in paying great honours to him. He unhesitatingly states:
    Blessed are all those who rejoice on his account. By this joy we
    ought not to understand the transient and momentary affection of
    the heart, elicited by some pleasing and agreeable occurrence;
    but the kind of joy alluded to is a rational, philosophical, and
    religious one, having its origin, first, in a full and perfect
    knowledge of Buddha's transcendent excellence, rendering his
    person an object of the highest admiration; and, second, in a
    lively confidence in his benevolence and goodness towards all
    beings, which urge him to labour for their deliverance from all
    miseries and their guidance to a state of peace and rest. Such a
    joy, diffused over the heart, creates an ardent love for Buddha
    and his doctrine; that affection rests, not on Buddha, as a mere
    individual, but on him who is the personification of a saviour
    of all beings. It implies faith in him and his preachings, as
    well as a strong confidence in his power and willingness to
    confer the greatest possible benefits. Hence there is no wonder
    to hear Buddha declaring all those blessed who on that solemn
    occasion rejoiced in him.




CHAPTER X.

    _Buddha's proceedings in the seat of Tawadeintha -- His
    triumphant return to the seat of men, in the city of Thin-ka-tha
    -- He is calumniated by the heretics of Thawattie -- Eighth
    season spent in the forest of Tesakala -- Subsequent preachings
    -- He meets with a bad reception in the Kothambi country --
    Dissension among the disciples -- Reconciliation -- Travels of
    Buddha -- Preaching to a Pounha who tilled a field._


While Buddha was in the seat of Tawadeintha all the Nats came from more
than ten thousand worlds to his presence; but the glory that always
encompasses their bodies disappeared, or was completely outshone by that
of Buddha's person. His mother, a daughter of Nats, came from the seat
of Toothita to see her son and hear his instructions. She sat on his
right. Two sons of Nats stood by the right and left of his mother. The
crowd was so great that it covered a surface of eighteen youdzanas. In
that immense assembly two Nats were conspicuous by their particular
demeanour and position. One of them stood so close to Buddha as to touch
almost one of his knees, the other was standing in a respectful position
afar off. Buddha asked the latter what he had done to deserve the place
he occupied. He answered that, during former existences, he had made
abundant alms indeed, but his merits had been comparatively small,
because he had not done those good works to persons eminent for their
sanctity. The same question was put to the other Nat, who said that he
was, in a former existence, living in very narrow circumstances, but
that he had had the good fortune of giving alms, according to his
limited means, to persons who were much advanced in merits. With a voice
that was heard by the crowds on the seat of men, Buddha proclaimed the
immense advantage of giving alms to and supporting the Rahans and those
advanced in perfection. They were, said he, like good seed sown on a
good field, that yields an abundance of good fruits. But alms given to
those who are as yet under the tyrannical yoke of passions are like a
seed deposited in a bad soil; the passions of the receiver of alms
choke, as it were, the growth of merits. At the conclusion, the two Nats
obtained the reward of Thautapan. The crowds on earth had also the
benefit of hearing his instructions.

Whilst Buddha was in the middle of the Nats, he announced the law of
Abidama to his mother. Having to go about to get his food, Buddha
created a likeness of another Buddha, whom he commissioned to continue
the preaching of the Abidama. As to himself, he went to the mountain of
Himawonta, ate the tender branches of a certain tree, washed his face in
the lake Anawadat, and partook of the food he received from the Northern
Island. Thariputra went thither to render him all necessary services.
When he had eaten his meal, he called Thariputra, and desired him to go
and preach the law of Abidama to five hundred Rahans, who were present
when the display of wonders took place, and were much pleased with it.
In the time of the Buddha Kathaba those five hundred Rahans were bats,
living in a cave much resorted to by Rahans, who were wont to repeat the
Abidama. Those bats contrived to retain a certain number of words, the
meaning whereof they could not understand. When they died, they were
transferred into one of the seats of Nats; and when they became men
anew, they had the good fortune to be born from illustrious parents, in
the country of Thawattie, and when Phra showed his powers, they were
much pleased. They became Rahans under Thariputra, and were the first to
understand perfectly the sublime law of Abidama.

As to Buddha, he returned to the seat of Tawadeintha and continued the
instructions, where the Buddha of his creation had left them. At the
end of three months' preaching, an innumerable number of Nats knew and
understood the four great principles. As to his mother, she obtained the
perfection of Thautapan.

The time when Buddha was to return to the seat of men was near at hand.
The crowds, eager to know the precise time when Buddha was to come back
among them, went to Maukalan to ascertain from him the precise day on
which they would be blessed with his presence. "Well," said Maukalan to
the people, "in a very short time I will give you an answer on the
subject of your inquiry." That very instant he plunged to the bottom of
the earth and reappeared, but when he was at the foot of the Mienmo
mountain, he ascended, in the view of the crowd whom he had left, and
soon arrived in the presence of Buddha, to whom he explained the object
of his errand. "My son," answered Buddha, "in what country does your
brother Thariputra spend his season?" "In the city of Thin-ka-tha,"
replied Maukalan. "Well," said Buddha, "seven days hence, at the full
moon of Thadin-kioot (October), I will descend near the gate of
Thin-ka-tha city; go and tell the people that those who desire to see me
must go to that country, distant thirty youdzanas from Thawattie. Let no
one take any provision; but by a rigorous abstinence let them dispose
themselves to hear the law that I will preach." Maukalan, having paid
his respects to Buddha, returned to the place where the assembled
multitude anxiously waited for him. He related to them all the
particulars regarding his interview with Buddha, and conveyed to them
the much-wished-for intelligence of his speedy return on earth.

On the day of the full moon of Thadin-kioot (October), Buddha disposed
himself to go down to the seat of men. He called a prince of Thagias and
directed him to prepare everything for his descent. Complying with his
request, the Thagia prepared three ladders or stairs, one made of
precious stones, occupying the middle; one on the right made of gold;
and a third, made of silver, on the left. The foot of each ladder rested
on the earth, near to the gate of Thin-ka-tha city, and their summits
leaned on the top of the Mienmo mountain. The middle ladder was for
Buddha, the golden one for the Nats, and that of silver for the Brahmas.
Having reached the summit of the steps, Buddha stopped awhile, and
resolved to make a fresh display of his power. He looked upwards, and
all the superior seats of Brahmas were distinctly descried; on his
looking downwards, his eyes could see and plunge into the bottom of the
earth to the lowest hell. The Nats of more than a thousand systems could
see each other. Men could perceive Nats in their fortunate seats, and
Nats saw men in their terrestrial abode. The six glories streamed forth
with an incomparable splendour from Buddha's person, which became
visible to all the crowds. There was not one who did not praise Buddha.
Having the Nats on his right, and the Brahmas on his left, the most
glorious Phra began his triumphant coming down. He was preceded by a
Nat, holding a harp in his hands and playing the most melodious tunes;
another Nat fanned him; a chief of Brahmas held over him a golden
umbrella. Surrounded with that brilliant _cortège_, Buddha descended
near the gate of Thin-ka-tha city, and stopped there for awhile.
Thariputra came forthwith into the presence of Buddha, paid him his
respects at a becoming distance, and said, with a heart overflowing with
joy: "On this day, O most glorious Buddha, all the Nats and men are
showing their love to you." Buddha replied: "Blessed is Thariputra, and
blessed are all those who rejoice on my account. Men and Nats love him
who is acquainted with the sublime law, who has put an end to his
passions, and who has attained to the highest state of contemplation."
At the end of his discourse, innumerable beings understood the four
great principles, and the five hundred Rahans whom Thariputra was
commissioned to instruct reached the state of Arahat. On the spot where
all Buddhas set their feet, when coming from the seat of Tawadeintha, a
dzedi[1] has always been erected.

Buddha, on leaving Thin-ka-tha, shaped his course towards Wethalie, and
took his abode in the Dzetawon monastery. The fame of the wonders he had
performed increased his reputation, and elicited from the people fresh
tokens of respect and veneration. Alms poured from all quarters into the
monastery; the liberality of the people towards his person and that of
his disciples expanded in a wonderful manner. The heretics, who swarmed
in Wethalie and its neighbourhood, became exceedingly jealous of
Buddha's successes. The loss which they sustained in the donations of
the people added fuel to the inward discontent. They resolved to devise
some means to lower the character of Buddha in the opinion of the
people. After a long deliberation, they fixed on the following plan:--A
certain woman of great beauty, but of a rather doubtful character, was
induced to join them in accusing Gaudama of having violated her. She
contrived to assume the appearance of a person in a state of pregnancy,
and, covering herself with a piece of red cloth, she went about the town
spreading evil reports respecting Buddha's character. She had the
impudence even to go into the Dzetawon monastery, and ask Buddha to
provide a place for her approaching confinement, and likewise
maintenance for herself and the child she was by him pregnant with. Such
an infamous calumny did not, however, move him in the least. Conscious
of his innocence, he lost nothing of his usual composure and serenity.
But by the interference of the Thagia the slander was made manifest. Two
mice bit the strings that kept tied up on the abdomen the apparatus
designed to prop up the deceit, and, on a sudden, the whole fell on the
ground, proclaiming at once the innocence of the sage and smiting his
enemies with confusion.

Every one present on the occasion gave vent to his just indignation at
such a base attempt on the part of the heretics. But Buddha meekly
replied that what had just happened was a righteous retribution for a
misbehaviour of his own during a former existence. At that time, he was
on a certain day under the influence of liquor, when he chanced to meet
on his way a Pitzegabuddha. Without any reason or provocation, he abused
the holy man with the lowest and coarsest expressions, and went so far
as to tell him that his whole life was but a series of hypocritical
actions. Turning then towards his disciples, he added, with a grave
countenance, that what they had now witnessed was the just punishment
inflicted on him under the influence of the demerit created and
generated by his former evil doing.

The eighth season was spent in the grove or forest of Tesakala, and when
the rains were over, the most excellent Phra travelled throughout the
country, preaching and teaching the right way to many. Countless
converts entered one of the four ways, and many obtained at once the
deliverance.

In the town of Santoo-maragiri, he was preaching to the benefactors who
had fed him and his disciples. Among the hearers were two persons,
Nakoulapita and Nakoulamata, husband and wife, belonging to the pounha
race. During a great many successive former existences they had had the
good fortune to be father, mother, uncle, aunt, &c., to Buddha. During
the present existence the feeling of affection towards him with whom
they had been so long and so intimately connected was powerfully
awakened and glowed in their hearts. Under the influence of that
natural, kindly, and tender feeling, they came forward, and prostrating
themselves before Gaudama, said to him: "Dear son, how is it that you
have been away from us for so long a while? We are so happy to see you
after so long an absence." Buddha, remaining indifferent to such a scene
and language, knew at once what were the real wants of that good couple,
and in what manner he could acknowledge the great favours he had during
former existences received at their hands. He preached to them the most
excellent law. They were thoroughly converted. The next morning they had
the happiness to supply their great teacher and his company with the
choicest food. Meanwhile they addressed to him the following request:
"During many existences we both have always been happily united: not a
word of complaint or quarrel has ever passed between us. We pray that in
our coming existences the same love and affection may ever unite us
together." Their request was affectionately granted, and Buddha, in the
presence of a large assembly, pronounced them blessed and happy amongst
all men and women.

The son of the ruler of the country where these things happened was, to
his great affliction, childless. He invited Buddha to come and partake
of his hospitality in his house. The offer was accepted. Great
preparations were made for the reception of the illustrious visitor. The
prince had some of his own clothes laid on the way that Buddha was to
follow, in the hope that by treading over them he might communicate a
certain virtue, whereby he would have the object of his earnest desire
realised. On his arrival near the entrance of the house, Buddha stopped
and refused to proceed farther. Meanwhile, he beckoned Ananda to remove
the clothes. This was done accordingly, to the prince's deep
disappointment. After the meal, Gaudama explained to him that he and his
wife during a former existence had lived on eggs and had killed many
birds. Their present barrenness was the just punishment of their former
trespassing; but their actual good dispositions having atoned for the
past transgressions, they would be blessed with children. Both were
overjoyed at this news. They believed in Buddha, obtained the state of
Thautapan, and thereby entered into the current of perfection. Their
faith in Buddha's word procured for them so happy a result.

During all the time that elapsed after the rain, Buddha travelled
through the country, engaged on his usual benevolent errand, and
converting many among men and Nats. In the country of Garurit, in a
village of pounhas called Magoulia, the head man, one of the richest in
the place, had a daughter whose beauty equalled that of a daughter of
Nats. She had been in vain asked in marriage by princes, nobles, and
pounhas. The proud damsel had rejected every offer. On the day that her
father saw Gaudama, he was struck with his manly beauty and meek
deportment. He said within himself: "This man shall be a proper match
for my daughter." On his return home he communicated his views to his
wife. On the following day, the daughter having put on her choicest
dress and richest apparels, they all three went with a large retinue to
the Dzetawon monastery. Admitted to the presence of Buddha, the father
asked for his daughter the favour of being allowed to attend on him.
Without returning a word of reply, or giving the least sign of
acceptance or refusal, Buddha rose up and withdrew to a small distance,
leaving behind him on the floor the print of one of his feet. The
pounha's wife, well skilled in the science of interpreting wonderful
signs, saw at a glance that the marks on the print indicated a man no
longer under the control of passions, but a sage emancipated from the
thraldom of concupiscence. She communicated her views to her husband,
who had the impudence to go to Buddha's presence and renew the same
offer. Buddha meekly replied: "Pounha, I neither accept nor decline your
offer; in your turn, listen to what I have to say." He then went on to
relate how he had left the world, resisted Manh's temptation, lived in
solitude for six years, and freed himself from the net of passions. He
concluded by stating that, having become a Buddha, he had for ever
conquered all passions. At the conclusion of the instruction, both
father and mother became established in the state of Thautapan. The
damsel was highly offended at the refusal she experienced, and retained
a strong feeling of hatred towards him who had declined her proffered
favours. Her father took her into the Kothambi country, where she was
offered to the ruler, who, smitten with her charms, elevated her to the
rank of first queen.

In the country of Kothambi, there lived three rich men. These three men
fed during the rainy season every year five hundred hermits, who came
from the Himalaya range for the purpose of obtaining their maintenance.
These charitable laymen went over to Wethalie for the purpose of trade.
There they met Buddha, and earnestly pressed him to come to their
country and preach the law. The invitation was accepted. They returned
home, and built for the accommodation of the illustrious visitor each of
them one monastery. When all was ready, Buddha went to Kothambi,
attended by five hundred disciples. He spent there the ninth season.
During his stay he dwelt by turns in each of the three monasteries, and
was abundantly supported by the rich man in whose monastery he took his
abode.

In the country of Kothambi there were as yet few disciples or believers
in Buddha; but the number of holders of false doctrines was exceedingly
great. Secretly supported by the first queen, and actuated by jealousy
against the new-comer, they reviled him and his disciples in every
possible way, and did their utmost to destroy in public opinion his
rising fame. Whenever they met Buddha's disciples, they abused them with
the coarsest language. Unable to bear any longer so many insults,
Ananda, in the name of his brethren, went to Buddha, and asked him to
remove to some other place, where they would receive a becoming
treatment. "But," said Buddha, "if we be ill-treated in the new place we
go to, what is to be done?" "We shall proceed to some other place,"
replied Ananda. "But," retorted Buddha, "if in that new place we be
likewise reviled, what then?" "We shall," replied Ananda, "remove to
some other place." Buddha remained silent for awhile, and, casting a
gentle glance on Ananda, said to him: "A little patience will save us
the trouble of so many travels, and certainly procure for us here what
we may perhaps vainly look for anywhere else. By patience and endurance
the wise man conquers all his enemies. Behold the war-elephant; he
plunges into the thickest of the raging conflict, regardless of the
darts and arrows flying in every direction, and carries all before him.
I, too, the most excellent Buddha, shall certainly stay here, diligently
preach the most excellent law, and perseveringly labour to disentangle
men from the net of passions. In no way shall I care for the abuses they
may pour on me and my disciples."

Not long after this a trifling accident kindled the fire of dissension
among the members of the assembly. The subject was, as usual, of a
trifling nature. It was concerning a point of discipline of scarcely any
importance, infringed unintentionally by a Rahan. He was accused by one
of his brethren of having committed a sin. But he replied that, having
done an act in which his will had not participated, he did not consider
himself guilty. Each disputant attracted to his party some religious who
supported his view of the case. The Kothambi Rahans seem to have been
the cause of the disunion which prevailed in the community, and soon,
like a devouring flame, extended to the female portion of the assembly.
In vain Gaudama interfered, and exhorted the two parties to patience,
union, and charity. In his presence the parties were silent, but in his
absence the quarrel grew worse. At last his entreaties were unheeded,
and discord continued to rend asunder the bond of unity. Disgusted with
such a state of things, Buddha preached to the most distinguished
members of the assembly the blessings of peace and concord. Such men as
Baddia, Kimila, and Anourouddha, treasured up in their heart the
instructions of their great master. But others continued the dispute.
Meanwhile he resolved to separate himself for a time from all company,
and to go to a lonely spot to enjoy the happiness of peace and
meditation. He shaped his course towards the village of Palelayaka,
where he received his food, and went into a grove of sala-trees, to fix
his residence at the foot of one of those trees. The villagers, hearing
of his intention, hastened to the spot, and built a hermit's hut for his
use, and promised to supply him daily with his food.

It was in this place that, delighting in the contemplation of unclouded
truth, Gaudama spent the tenth season alone. The rich men of the
Kothambi country, hearing that Buddha had departed because of the
dissension that took place among the Rahans, became indignant. They
openly declared their fixed intent of refusing to give anything for the
maintenance of the Rahans, until they agreed among themselves, and
became reconciled with their teacher. The timely threat had the desired
effect. The disputants felt the unpleasant seriousness of their uneasy
position. They could hold on no longer. The Rahans came to an agreement
among themselves, and promised that after the season they would go to
Buddha and solicit his pardon. In the forest of Paleliaka there lived a
certain elephant, much advanced in merits, which went to Buddha, and,
during three months, ministered to all his wants, as a most affectionate
and devoted disciple would do towards a beloved master.

The three months of Lent being completed, the rich man Anatapein made
earnest inquiries with Ananda, respecting the place Buddha had withdrawn
to, and charged him to invite the great preacher to come back to
Thawattie, and live as usual in the Dzetawon monastery. Complying with
the pious wishes of the rich man, Ananda took with himself five hundred
Rahans, and went to the solitude of Paleliaka. He was likewise followed
by the five hundred refractory Rahans of Kothambi, who had come to
Wethalie. The ruler of the country and Anatapein had refused at first to
receive them. But the prohibition had been removed on account of their
repentance. He approached alone the place where Buddha was living. After
the usual prostrations, Gaudama inquired whether he had come alone. He
replied that there were with him many of his faithful disciples and the
Kothambi Rahans. The latter came with the express purpose of asking his
pardon, and a firm resolution to yield henceforward a perfect obedience
to all his commands. Buddha desired them to appear in his presence. They
came, were there well received, and their misbehaviour was forgiven.
Gaudama explained to them the great advantage of shunning bad company
and of living in retirement. The hearers were fully converted and
established in the state of Thautapan. Buddha, on his return to
Wethalie, continued preaching in every direction, and led to the
deliverance a great number of men, Nats, and Brahmas. The stay in the
Dzetawon monastery was not very long. Buddha went into the Magatha
country, to a pounha village, named Nala. Not far from that village
there is the Deckinagiri, or southern mountain, with a monastery. In
that place Buddha spent the eleventh season.[2] His supporters were the
pounhas of the village. The chief occupation of those men was the
tillage of the fields. Gaudama took a particular pleasure during his
daily walks in conversing with them, when he met them engaged in their
daily labours.

One day Buddha went into the fields, where he met a pounha, with whom he
began to converse, in the intention of ultimately preaching to him the
holy law. He spoke at first on the subject of his daily labour, his
bullocks, his plough, the seed, and the harvest, which supplied the
pounha and his family with their daily food during the year. He added:
"I, too, am a labourer, provided with the seed and all the implements
necessary for carrying on tillage." The pounha, surprised at what he
heard, asked Buddha in what place he had left his bullocks, the seed,
the plough, &c. The latter coolly replied: "All these things are with me
at present. Hearken, O pounha, to what I am about to state. The seed is
that fervent desire, that benevolent disposition, which prompted me at
the foot of the Buddha Deipinkara to ask for the Buddhaship: it is the
science which I have gathered under the tree Bodi. The rain water is
that uninterrupted series of good works performed by me, until I have
become a Buddha. They have been as the means of watering the good seed
which was in me. The knowledge, or science, and wisdom are as the yoke,
as well as the plough-shaft. The heart, or the knowing principle which
is in me, represents the reins that serve to guide the bullocks. The
teeth of the plough represent the diligence that must be used in
attending to the eradicating of the principle of demerits and of bad
works. The plough-handle represents the guiding principle of the law,
which enables me to remove all that is bad, and promote what is good.
The food which you, O pounha, derive from your exertions, represents the
pure relish which is tasted by him who is bent on avoiding evil and
doing good. When you make use of the plough, you cut or uproot all bad
weeds. So it is with him who is penetrated with the full meaning of the
four great truths; he cuts and uproots from himself the wicked
inclinations and low propensities that are in him. When the labour of
the field is over, you unyoke your bullocks and leave them to go
whithersoever they please; so it is with the wise man. By application to
invigorating the principle of good that leads to perfection, he lets go
the opposite principle which gives rise to all imperfections. The
bullocks have to work hard to complete the work of tillage. So the sage
has to struggle hard, to till perfectly and cultivate thoroughly the
soil of his own being, and reach the happy state of Neibban. The
husbandman who labours so much for bringing his field into a position to
receive the seed, and in every way to favour its growth, is imitated by
the true sage who endeavours to free himself from the miseries attending
existence, to advance in the way of merits by the practice of good
works, and who thirsts after the happy condition of the perfect. He who
works in the field is sometimes disappointed, and feels occasionally the
pangs of hunger. He who works in the field of wisdom is exempt from all
miseries and afflictions. He eats the fruit of his labour. He is fully
satiated when he beholds Neibban. It is in this manner, O pounha, that I
am a true husbandman, and am always provided with all the implements
necessary for the tillage of man's soul." The pounha, delighted with
such doctrine, became a convert, and professed his belief in Buddha, the
law, and the assembly. Subsequently he applied for admittance into the
assembly, and by energetic efforts in the arduous work of meditation, he
became at last a Rahanda.

When the rains were over, Buddha travelled through the country,
preaching the most excellent law, with the happiest results. He went to
the town of Satiabia, in the Kosala country. There he received from a
pounha of Waritzaba an invitation to go to that place. The invitation
was graciously accepted. In that town he spent the twelfth season. A
great many pounhas were enlightened and converted by professing their
firm adherence to the three precious things. The vile Manh Nat did his
utmost to thwart the beneficial results of Buddha's preachings. A great
dearth prevailing in the country, he did all that he could to starve the
most excellent Buddha and all his followers. But he was frustrated in
his iniquitous design by the charity of five hundred horse merchants,
who had come from Outharapata, and were then staying in Waritzaba.

Buddha, leaving this country, shaped his course through the great
Mantala country; he travelled by the shortest route, a distance of 500
youdzanas. He started on the day after the full moon of Tabodway, and
spent nearly five months in this voyage. He reached the banks of the
Ganges at Gayagati, where he crossed the mighty stream and went to
Benares. He had not been long in that city, when he recrossed the Ganges
and went to Wethalie, dwelling in the Gootagarathala monastery. Thence
he went into Thawattie, preaching through all the places he visited.
When he was in the Dzetawon monastery, he delivered the Maha Rahula
instruction for the benefit of his son Rahula, who then was eighteen
years old.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] The religious edifices that are to be met with in all parts
    of Burmah deserve a particular notice. They are called dzedis in
    all the Buddhist writings of the Burmese, but the people
    generally speak of them under the appellation of Payas or Phras,
    which, in this instance, is merely a title of honour of a
    religious character.

    Dzedis, in the earliest days of Buddhism, were sacred tumuli
    raised upon a shrine, wherein relics of Buddha had been
    deposited. These structures were as so many lofty witnesses,
    bearing evidence to the presence of sacred and precious objects,
    intended to revive in the memory of the faithful the remembrance
    of Buddha, and foster in their hearts tender feelings of
    devotion and a glowing fervour for his religion.

    From the perusal of this legend, it will appear that dzedis were
    likewise erected on the tombs of individuals who, during their
    lifetime, had obtained great distinction by their virtues and
    spiritual attainments among the members of the assembly. Buddha
    himself ordered that a monument should be built over the shrine
    containing the relics of the two great disciples, Thariputra and
    Maukalan. In Burmah, no dzedis of great dimensions and
    proportions have ever been erected on the ashes of distinguished
    Phongyies. In some parts, however, particularly in the upper
    country, there may be seen here and there some small dzedis, a
    few feet high, erected on the spot where have been deposited the
    remains of some saintly personages. These monuments are little
    noticed by the people, though, on certain occasions, a few
    offerings of flowers, tapers, &c., are made around and in front
    of them.

    Similar kinds of religious edifices have been built sometimes
    also to become a receptacle of the Pitagat, or collection of the
    holy scriptures. One of the finest temples of Ceylon was devoted
    to that purpose. There was also one in the ancient city of Ava,
    but I am not aware that there is any of this kind at Amarapoora.

    Finally, dzedis have been erected for the sole purpose of
    harbouring statues of Gaudama; but there is every reason to
    believe that this practice gained ground in subsequent ages.
    When a fervent Buddhist, impelled by the desire of satisfying
    the cravings of his piety and devotion, wished to build a
    religious monument, and could not procure relics, he then
    remained contented by supplying the deficiency with images of
    Buddha representing that eminent personage, in attitudes of body
    that were to remind Buddhists of some of the most striking
    actions of his life. In many instances, dzedis have been built
    up, not even for the sake of sheltering statues, but for the
    pious purpose of reminding the people of the holy relics of
    Buddha, and, as they used to say, for kindling in the soul a
    tender feeling of affectionate reverence for the person of
    Buddha and his religion. If what is put forward as a plea for
    building pagodas be founded on conviction and truth, we must
    conclude that the inhabitants of the valley of the Irrawaddy are
    most devotedly religious, as the mania for building dzedis has
    been, and even now is, carried to such a pitch as to render
    almost fabulous the number of religious buildings to be seen on
    an extent of above seven hundred miles as far as Bhamo.

    As Buddhism was imported from India into Eastern Asia there is
    no doubt that the style of architecture adopted in the erection
    of religious edifices came from the same quarter. To the native
    genius of the Burmese we may allow the merit of ornamental
    architecture for the great monasteries, and a few details of the
    exterior decorations of the religious monuments; but no one will
    take offence at refusing to the tribes that occupy the basin of
    the Irrawaddy the merit of originating the plan of such
    monuments as those to be seen in some parts of the country. It
    is much to their credit that they have been able to raise such
    mighty fabrics with the imperfect knowledge they possess and the
    very limited means at their disposal. The resemblance that
    exists between the much-defaced Buddhist monuments yet to be met
    with in some parts of India and at Java, and those now studding
    the banks of the Irrawaddy, leaves no doubt respecting the
    origin of the shape and form of such monuments.

    At first sight, the traveller in Burmah believes that there is a
    great variety in the shape and architecture of pagodas. He is
    easily led astray by many fantastical ornaments that have been
    added by inexperienced natives to religious monuments. After,
    however, a close examination of those edifices, it seems that
    they can be arranged into three distinct classes, to which those
    presenting minor differences may be referred. The first class
    comprises those which have a cone-like appearance, though much
    enlarged in the direction of the base. These are without niches,
    or rather ought to be without niches, as the small ones to be
    seen added to those monuments indicate that they are no
    essential appendage of the building, but rather the fanciful and
    tasteless work of some devotees. The pagodas of Rangoon, Pegu
    and Prome offer the finest specimens of this order of edifices.
    The second class includes those of a dome-like shape. They are
    not common in Burmah. The finest and grandest specimen is that
    of the Kaong-hmoo-dau, or great meritorious work, situated west
    of the ancient city of Tsagain. In the third class we may place
    all the pagodas that approximate to the temple form; that is to
    say, all those that offer the shape of a more or less
    considerable rectangle, with a large hall in the centre and
    several galleries running throughout. Upon this rectangle a
    conical structure is raised, ending as usual with the tee or
    umbrella. The most remarkable and perfect specimens of this kind
    are to be seen at Pagan, which may be aptly styled the City of
    Pagodas.

    The cone-shaped pagoda invariably rests on a quadrangular basis
    a few feet high. The body of the cone in its lower part is an
    hexagon or octagon, broad at first, then gradually and regularly
    decreasing to two-thirds of its height. Upon it rises the
    regular cone, which ends in a point covered with the gilt
    umbrella.

    The architectural ornaments of such structures are circular,
    bold and round lines or mouldings; above this, to the place
    where the cone begins, are sculptures, representing leaves
    shooting from the middle part, one half upwards and the other
    half downwards. That part is often divested of such ornaments,
    as is the case with the Shoaydagon. On the sides of the cone are
    horizontal lines grouped together; each group is separated by a
    considerable distance, then comes a sculptured foliage,
    different from the one already mentioned, but disposed in a like
    manner. In the middle of the four sides of the base,
    particularly in the one facing the East, the Burmese have
    introduced the practice of making small niches for receiving the
    statues representing Buddha in a cross-legged position. A
    portico leads to them. On the four angles of the base they
    likewise place griffins or sometimes fantastic figures of
    monsters. Small dzedis are often disposed on the lower parts of
    the hexagon or octagon. This kind of pagoda being naturally
    destitute of all ornaments, and standing over a tomb or a
    shrine, as a pillar that has gradually assumed the shape above
    described, is a very ancient one, and probably coeval with the
    earliest Buddhist religious monuments.

    The second class of religious edifices is that of those that
    exhibit a dome-like appearance. They are rather uncommon in
    Burmah. They rest on a square basis. The lower part is adorned
    with a few mouldings, but the greatest part offers a perfectly
    even superficies. The umbrella that is placed on them partakes
    somewhat of the appearance of the monument it is destined to
    crown. It considerably expands in the horizontal direction, and
    has a very ungraceful appearance. The Kaong-hmoo-dau in the
    neighbourhood of Tsagain rests on a basis about 18 or 20 feet
    high; the dome, according to an inscription, is 153 feet high,
    the diameter, at the lowest part, is nearly 200 feet. The whole
    was formerly gilt. The four sides of the square are lined with
    small niches, each tenanted by a small statue of Gaudama.
    Separated from the square by an open and well-paved gallery that
    runs all round the edifice, are disposed in a row eight hundred
    and two small pillars of sandstone, about 6 feet high, with
    their upper part perforated, so as to afford room sufficient to
    receive a lamp on festival days. Splendid must be the effect
    produced during a dark night by so many lamps, pouring a flood
    of light that illuminates on all sides the massive edifice.
    Whether the monument was built about three hundred years ago, as
    stated to the writer by one of the guardians, or, as it is most
    probable, only repaired and adorned at that time, certain it is
    that this kind of religious edifice is very ancient, and very
    likely not inferior in antiquity to those above referred to.
    Another of a similar form, but of much smaller dimensions, is to
    be seen at Bhamo, not far from the eastern gate.

    The third class of pagodas comprises all those that are
    generally of a square form, not made of a solid masonry, but
    with openings or doors, a room, galleries, &c., for receiving
    statues of Gaudama. They are all surmounted with the usual
    conical structure, which is, it seems, the essential appendage
    to all dzedis. These edifices, in my opinion, are not to be
    considered as tumuli or topes, but rather as places of worship,
    and sanctuaries for the reception of the statues of Gaudama. The
    monuments are, I suspect, of a comparative modern origin; they
    have not the plainness and simplicity of the tumuli which agree
    so well with the simplicity of the religious form of worship of
    primitive Buddhism. They are not made to answer the purpose for
    which dzedis were primitively raised. They must have been
    erected at times when Buddhist worship, emerging from its
    primeval sternness of form, assumed proportions and developments
    congenial to the taste and wants of large religious communities.
    This class of temples offers a great variety of forms as to the
    size, dimensions, and details of architecture. But they may be
    all brought to this general outline. From the square body of the
    temple diverge, in the direction of the four points of the
    compass, porticoes; the one facing the east is always the
    largest and best adorned; sometimes there is but one portico,
    that of the east, and there are only doors in the middle of the
    three other sides. From these porticoes the galleries converge
    towards the centre of the temple, where are statues. In the
    large and magnificent pagodas of Pagan, galleries with vaults in
    the pointed style run all round the building. Some of those
    stupendous structures have two stories, and it is only on the
    second that the conical part rests, which is the essential
    complement of every religious building. On one of the
    middle-sized pagodas rises, instead of a cone, an obelisk, with
    ornaments that appear to resemble hieroglyphic figures. Some of
    those obelisks swell considerably towards the middle of their
    height. Great was the surprise and astonishment of the writer,
    when he observed in the same place, among the prodigious number
    of pagodas, in a more or less advanced state of decay, one, not
    considerable by its dimensions, nor in a much-ruined condition,
    that exhibited the solitary instance of a regular pyramid.

    [2] The few particulars that have been gathered respecting the
    mode that Buddha followed in disseminating his doctrines,
    exhibit him in the light of a zealous and indefatigable
    preacher. We see him passing from one place to another with the
    sole purpose of instructing the ignorant and pointing out to
    them the way leading to the deliverance. Bebar and Oude appear
    to have been the seat of his labours, and the scene on which he
    acted in behalf of all, without any distinction of condition,
    caste, or sex. Individuals in the humblest walks of life, men
    engaged in wicked practices, women of an abandoned character,
    were all, to an equal degree, the object of his tender
    solicitude. They were all summoned to come to his feet and
    partake in the blessings that he had in store for them. Gaudama
    was to an eminent degree an earnest and fervent propagandist.
    This is a striking feature in his character, which distinguishes
    him not only from all his contemporaries, but also from all the
    philosophers that have appeared throughout the Indian peninsula.
    All these sages aimed at becoming the heads of schools, but none
    of them thought of promulgating a code of morals intended for
    the whole human race. Gaudama has the honour of being the first
    who, with enlarged views, looked upon his fellow-men as equally
    entitled to the benefit of his instructions. His love of all men
    prompted him to undergo all sorts of fatigue, to procure for
    them what he imagined to be a great boon. In making this
    statement we have no intention to pass an opinion on the
    doctrines of the founder of Buddhism; we merely bring forward to
    the notice of the reader a peculiar characteristic of that sage,
    which, in our humble opinion, helps to account for the
    extraordinary spread of Buddhism from the banks of the Oxus to
    the Japanese archipelago. The tenets of that creed have become
    popular, because they were intended for all. False though they
    be, particularly in what has a reference to dogmas, they were
    accepted by the masses, because there were no other proffered to
    them. The disciples of Gaudama must have been well received in
    the various places they went to, for they showed a disposition
    of mind quite unknown in those days, viz., a lively interest in
    the welfare of all. This zeal, which appeared so conspicuously
    in Gaudama and during the first ages of Buddhism, has become all
    but totally extinct. There is no desire on the part of those who
    in our days follow that creed to propagate its tenets among
    other nations or tribes.




CHAPTER XI.

    _Voyage to Tsalia -- Instructions to Meggia -- Raoula is made a
    professed religious -- Manahan's questions to Buddha --
    Misbehaviour of Thouppabuda -- Questions proposed by Nats in the
    Dzetawon monastery -- Conversion of a Biloo -- Episode of
    Thirima at Radzagio -- Attention paid to a poor pounha and to a
    weaver's daughter on account of their faith -- In the twentieth
    season, appointment of Ananda to the stewardship -- Conversion
    of a famous robber._


After a rather short stay in Thawattie, Buddha went to the town of
Tsalia. The inhabitants built for him a monastery on a hill not far from
the town, and liberally supplied him with all that he wanted. Pleased
with the good reception the people gave him, Gaudama spent on that spot
the thirteenth season. He went to receive his food in the village of
Dzantoo. Thence travelling through the country, he reached the banks of
the river Kimikila and enjoyed himself in a beautiful grove of
mango-trees. The disciple Meggia, being too much taken up with the
beauty of the place, eagerly wished to remain here for some time. As a
punishment for such an inordinate attachment to a particular spot, he
who had renounced the world and the gratification of passions, felt on a
sudden a strange change pass over him. A flood of concupiscence
inundated his soul. Buddha, who saw what was taking place in Meggia,
gave him an instruction on contempt for the things of this world, and
entirely cured him of his great spiritual distemper.

Thence he proceeded to Thawattie into the Dzetawon monastery, where he
spent the fourteenth season. The great disciple Thariputra, with five
hundred religious, was spending the season in a neighbouring village.
The people were so much pleased with him and his company, that they
offered to each of them a piece of yellow silk. Some religious, jealous
of the great disciple, came to Buddha and accused him of covetousness.
Buddha fully justified his great companion and commended the liberality
of the donors, who had thus an opportunity of gratifying their
liberality and gaining merits.

The Thamane Raoula was then twenty years old. Having reached the
canonical age, he was elevated to the dignity of Patzin. The young
religious could scarcely defend himself from a certain feeling of vanity
on account of his father's dignity and his own personal mien and
bearing, which he was very fond of admiring. Buddha was intimately
acquainted with what was going on in Raoula's soul. He preached to him
the contempt of self and of all varieties of form. The instruction was
so impressive that it led the young hearer to the state of Rahanda. On a
certain night when Raoula was sleeping near the door of Gaudama's
private apartment, Manh Nat, wishing to frighten the young Rahanda,
created the likeness of an elephant, which, keeping his trunk over his
head, suddenly made a frightful noise. Buddha, who was inside, saw
clearly that this was only a temptation of the vile Manh. He said to
him, "O wretched one, are you not aware that fear is no longer to be
found in him who has become a Rahanda?" Manh, being discovered, vanished
away, covered with shame and confusion at the abortiveness of his
malicious attempt.

In the same year, Buddha went to Kapilawot, which is in the Thekka
country, and took up his residence in the Nigranda monastery, situated
close to the banks of the river Rohani. At that place he spent the
fifteenth season. On a certain day, his cousin Mahanan, the son of
Thoodaudana, came to the monastery, and having paid his respects to his
illustrious relative, took the liberty to propose to him the four
following questions:--1. In what consists the fulfilment of the
religious duties? 2. What is meant by the religious disposition? 3. What
is the real renouncing? 4. What is the true knowledge?

Buddha replied in the following manner: "The fulfilment of the religious
duties consists in observing carefully the five precepts obligatory on
all men. The religious disposition is but a loving inclination and
affection for all that refers to Buddha and the law that he has
published. He who possesses it experiences a continual longing for the
acquisition of merits. The renouncing is that disposition a man is
habitually in when he finds his pleasure in parting with his riches for
the purpose of relieving the needy and bestowing alms on the members of
the assembly. Finally, wisdom consists in making one's self perfectly
acquainted with what can procure merits for the present and the future;
under its influence man acts up to that knowledge, and also attends with
the utmost diligence to what may put an end to the law of miseries."

Even among his nearest relatives, Buddha was doomed to meet with the
bitterest enemies. Thouppabuda, who was at once his uncle and his
father-in-law, bore to him a deadly hatred, and secretly harboured in
his heart a sentiment of revenge, for two principal reasons, because his
daughter Yathaudara had been abandoned by Gaudama, when he left his
palace and began the life of an ascetic; and also for having admitted
his own son Dewadat among the members of the assembly. Having been
informed that on the following day Buddha would direct his steps towards
a certain quarter of the town to beg his food, Thouppabuda partook
largely of intoxicating liquor, to nerve himself for the execution of
the design he had in his mind, and went out in the direction in which
Gaudama was expected to come. As soon as he saw him drawing near, he
planted himself in the middle of the road, barring the passage, and
loading his great relative with abuses. Buddha stopped awhile without
showing the least sign of emotion. Then turning to Ananda, he said,
"Great is the crime of my uncle; seven days hence he shall be swallowed
up alive by the earth at the foot of the great staircase of his palace."
On this fearful prediction being reported to Thouppabuda, he laughed and
stated that he would stay during eight days in the upper story of his
palace, and belie his nephew's prediction. Despite the precautions that
he took, the fatal prediction was literally fulfilled. The unfortunate
unrepenting prince saw the earth burst open under his feet, and he was
precipitated to the very bottom of the Awidzi hell. Buddha took
advantage of the awful punishment that had befallen a prince of his
family to exhort Mahanan to seek a firm asylum in the three precious
things, to bear a sincere love and an affectionate fondness to all that
related to the law and its practices.

Up to the present period of his life, Buddha had reserved to himself the
right of preaching the law to and extolling the merits of those who had
brought him his food, after having partaken of their liberal donation.
This instruction may be properly called the sermon of thanksgiving. It
is called Anou-mau-dana. Now he allowed his disciples to do the like,
and repay the generosity of their benefactors by distributing unto them
the knowledge of truth.

At that time Buddha preached the four laws of A-sa-wan, or the four
bands that retain a being in the vortex of existences. From Kapilawot
Buddha returned to Thawattie in the Dzetawon monastery. At that time a
Nat had proposed four questions to his companions which they had not
been able to answer. They were subsequently communicated to all the
denizens of the six seats of Nats, but no one had been able to solve the
difficulty. Not knowing what to do, they agreed to refer the particulars
to the most excellent Buddha, then in the Dzetawon monastery. A
deputation was forthwith sent to him with the view of proposing to him
the puzzle, and entreating him to condescend to give the much-desired
solution. The members of the deputation having duly paid their
respects, said to him, "O most excellent Phra, which is the best thing
to be bestowed in alms? Which is the most savoury and relishing of all
things? Which is the most pleasurable? Which is the best and the fittest
thing to put an end to passions?" To these four questions Buddha
answered by one word--"The law." Addressing himself both to the Nats and
to his assembled disciples, he added, "The giving of alms, though good
in itself, cannot introduce a being into the path that leads to the
deliverance. The law alone can afford such a benefit. The preaching of
the law, and the exertions in communicating its knowledge to others, are
therefore the most excellent alms. All that in this world confers
pleasure to the senses is but a means to plunge man into the vortex of
existences, and thereby into all miseries. On the contrary, the hearing
of the law rejoices the heart to such an extent as often to open a
spring of joyful tears; it destroys concupiscence, and leads gradually
out of the whirlpool of existences. It establishes man in the state of
Arahat, which is the end of all passions. The law, therefore, is the
most savoury, the most pleasing thing, leading beings to the cessation
of all miseries. You, my beloved disciples, exert yourselves in making
known by your preaching the said law to all beings. This is the most
excellent alms that you can bestow on the beings that inhabit the three
different states of men, Nats, and Brahmas."

Buddha soon left Thawattie and went to Alawee. A Biloo was in the habit
of eating every day some children of that place. Owing to the ravenous
and horrible appetite of the monster, all the children had been eaten
up; there remained only the child of the king, who was on the following
day to be given over to him. Buddha reviewed, as usual, on a certain
morning the condition of all beings. He saw the sad position of the king
of Alawee and of his son. He resolved to proffer assistance to both, and
also to convert the Biloo. He arrived in the country of Alawee, where he
was received with every mark of respect. He forthwith went into the
forest where the monster lived. At first he met with a most determined
and violent opposition. But, opposing to his enraged antagonist
meekness, patience, and kindness, Buddha gradually softened that
terrible nature. Concealing affectedly the change which was taking place
in him, almost against his perverse inclination, the Biloo said to
Buddha, "I have put certain questions to many famous ascetics, but they
have not been able to answer them. On seeing their utter incapacity, I
have seized them, torn their bodies in pieces, and flung their quivering
limbs into the Ganges. Such shall be your fate, O Gaudama, if your
science fails you on this occasion. By what means can a man get out of
the stream or current of passions? How can he cross over the sea of
existences? How can he free himself from the evil influence? How shall
he be able to purify himself from the smallest stain of concupiscence?"
Buddha replied: "Listen, O Biloo, to my words; my answer shall fully
satisfy you. By faith in and affection for the three precious things,
man escapes from the current of passions. He who applies himself with a
diligent earnestness to the study of the law of merits passes over the
sea of existences. He who strives to practise the works that procure
merits frees himself from evil influence, and from the attending
miseries. Finally, the knowledge of the four meggas or ways to
perfection procures perfect exemption from the least remnant of
concupiscence." The Biloo, delighted with what he had heard, believed in
Buddha, and soon was firmly established in the state of Thautapan. On
that spot, where so glorious and unexpected a conversion had taken
place, a monastery was erected. Buddha spent herein the sixteenth
season. As usual, myriads of Nats and men who had heard his preachings
obtained the deliverance.

From Alawee Buddha went to Radzagio, and spent the seventeenth season in
the Weloowon monastery. During that season a famous courtesan, named
Thirima, sister of the celebrated physician Dzewaka, renowned all over
the country for her wit and the incomparable charms of her person,
wished to show her liberality to the disciples of Buddha. Every day a
certain number of them went to her dwelling to receive, along with their
food, abundant alms. One of the pious mendicants, in an unguarded
moment, moved by an unholy curiosity, looked at her, and was instantly
smitten by her charms. The mortal wound was widened and deepened by a
fortuitous occurrence. On a certain day Thirima fell sick. But she did
not relax in her daily work of charity. Weak though she was, and in her
_negligée_, she insisted on the mendicants being introduced into her
room, that she might pay her respects to them. The unfortunate lover was
among the company. Her incomparable charms were heightened by her plain
dress and drooping attitude. The poor lover went back with his brethren
to the monastery. The arrow had penetrated to the core of the heart. He
refused to take any food, and during some days completely estranged
himself from the society of his brethren. While the intestine war raged
in his bosom, Thirima died. Buddha, desirous to cure the moral distemper
of the poor religious, invited King Pimpasara to be present when he
should go with his disciples to see the remains of Thirima. On the
fourth day after Thirima's death he went to her house with his
disciples. There her body was laid before them, with a livid appearance,
and all swollen. Countless worms already issuing out through the
apertures, rendered the sight loathsome, whilst a horrible stench almost
forbade a standing close to it. Buddha coolly asked the king, "What is
that object which is stretched before us?" "Thirima's body," replied the
king. "When she was alive," retorted Buddha, "people paid a thousand
pieces of silver to enjoy her for a day. Would any one take her now for
half that sum?" "No," replied the king; "in all my kingdom there is not
one man who would offer the smallest sum to have her remains; nay, no
one could be found who would be willing to carry her to any distance
unless compelled to do so." Buddha, addressing the assembly, said,
"Behold all that remains of Thirima, who was so famous for her personal
attractions! What has become of that form which deceived and enslaved so
many? All is subjected to mutability; there is nothing real in this
world." On hearing the instruction, eighty-two thousand persons obtained
the knowledge of the four truths. The Rahan who, because of his passion,
would not eat his food, was entirely cured of his moral distemper, and
firmly established in the state of Thautapan. All this happened whilst
Buddha spent his seventeenth season in the bamboo-grove monastery.

When the season was over, he went, as usual, to preach in every
direction, and returned to Thawattie, to the Dzetawon monastery. His
stay in that place was not long. He undertook another voyage to Alawee.
He was received with the greatest demonstrations of joy by the people,
who gladly ministered to all his wants. On a certain day, when he was to
receive large offerings from the people and preach to them, it happened
on that occasion that a poor pounha, who was very desirous to hear his
instructions, was informed at an early hour of that very day that one of
his cows had gone astray from the herd and could not be found. Hereupon
he felt greatly aggrieved. He was afraid to let go the golden
opportunity to hear the instruction. However, he trusted that by making
the utmost diligence he would be back in time. He ran in all haste until
he found the strayed animal and brought it back. It was nearly midday
when he returned to the town. Though pressed with the pangs of hunger
and overwhelmed with fatigue, he went straight forward to the place
where the congregation was assembled. The offerings had been brought a
long while ago; the people out of respect stood motionless, with their
hands joined, in the presence of Buddha, who, contrary to the general
expectation, remained perfectly silent. With his supernatural vision he
had seen the perfect dispositions of the poor pounha. He would have him
to share in the blessing of his instruction. As soon as the pounha had
taken his place among the hearers, Buddha, casting a benevolent glance
towards him, beckoned him to come near his person. Meantime, he ordered
some of his disciples to bring the poor man some food, because he was
very hungry; and he would not condescend to begin the instruction till
the man had been relieved from the pangs of hunger by a good meal. When
the preaching was over, several Rahans ridiculed the attention paid by
their master to a common man. Buddha, knowing their innermost thoughts,
spoke to them by way of an instructive rebuke: "Beloved sons, you seem
to be surprised at my behaviour towards that poor pounha. But I had
perceived at once the super-excellent dispositions of that man, his
craving for the holy law, and his lively and strong faith in me, which
prompted him to lay no stress on hunger, nor on fatigue, and to make no
account of his personal discomforts, in order to satisfy his earnest
longings for the law." On that occasion an immense number of hearers
were converted.

Buddha went to a monastery built on a hill, near the town of Tsalia,
where he spent the eighteenth season. In that town there was a weaver,
who had one daughter, who followed the same profession as her father.
The damsel was very desirous to hear Buddha's preachings; but on the day
when Buddha was to come into the town to deliver instructions to the
people, it happened she had to finish the weaving of a piece of cloth
that was urgently required by the owner. She then said to herself: I
will exert myself with so much diligence that I will be enabled both to
finish my work and listen to my teacher's preaching. She set instantly
to work, wound up the thread on the quill, and took it with her, to
carry it to the shed where her father's loom was. On her way to the
shed, she had to pass near the place where a motionless congregation
stood before Buddha, eagerly waiting for the words that were to fall
from his mouth. She laid aside her quill, loaded with thread, and
squatted timidly behind the last rank of the congregation. Buddha had
seen at a glance the perfect dispositions of the young girl. It was
chiefly for her benefit that he had undertaken a long journey and come
over to that place. As soon as he saw her, he made her draw nearer to
him. The injunction was joyfully complied with. With an encouraging tone
of voice, Buddha asked her whence she came and whither she was going.
The damsel modestly answered that she knew whence she came, and also
whither she was going; at the same time, she added that she was ignorant
of the place she came from, and of the place she was going to. On
hearing this apparently contradictory answer, many of the hearers could
scarcely refrain from giving vent to indignant feelings. But Buddha, who
had fathomed the girl's wisdom, prayed them to be silent. Then, turning
towards his young interlocutor, he desired her to explain the meaning of
her answer. She said: "I know that I come from my father's house, and
that I go to our loom-shed; but what existence I have come from to this
present one, this I am entirely ignorant of. I am likewise uncertain
about the existence that shall follow this one. About these two points I
am completely ignorant; my mind can discover neither the one nor the
other." Buddha extolled the wisdom of the damsel, and forthwith began
his instruction. At the conclusion, she was firmly grounded in the state
of Thautapan. She withdrew immediately, took up her quill, and went to
the shed. It happened that her father was asleep, with his hand on the
loom's handle. She approached the loom, and began to arrange the thread.
Her father, awaking suddenly, pushed inadvertently the part of the loom
his hand was laid upon, and struck his daughter in the chest. She fell
down and instantly expired. Overwhelmed with grief, the unfortunate
father poured a flood of tears over the lifeless corpse of his daughter.
Unable to console himself, he rose up and went to Buddha, in the hope of
receiving some comfort at his feet. Buddha affectionately received him,
and, by his good instructions, relieved him from the load that pressed
on his heart, and gradually enlightening his mind by the preaching of
the four great truths, he gently infused into his heart and his soul
that sweet joy which wisdom alone can impart. The weaver resolved to
abandon the world, asked for admittance into the assembly, and not long
after became a Rahanda. This conversion was followed by that of a great
many others.

Buddha returned to Radzagio, and spent the nineteenth season in the
Weloowon monastery. The season being over, Buddha went into the
districts of Magatha, preaching in all places. Previous to that time,
there lived at Radzagio a rich man who had an only daughter, who was
brought up with the greatest care and the utmost fondness. She lived in
the upper apartments of a splendid dwelling. On a certain day, at an
early hour in the morning, she was looking on the people that flocked
from the country into the town. She saw among many a young hunter
driving a cart loaded with venison. She much admired his fine, energetic
appearance. She was instantly enamoured of him, and made all the
necessary arrangements to elope with him. She succeeded, married the
hunter, and had by him a large family. Passing on one day through a
forest, the most excellent Buddha chanced to meet with a deer which was
caught in the net of a hunter. Moved with feelings of commiseration, he
helped the poor beast to get out of the meshes. After this benevolent
action, he went to rest under a tree. The hunter soon made his
appearance, and to his great dismay at once discovered that some one had
deprived him of his prey. Whilst he was looking about, he saw Buddha, in
his yellow dress, calmly resting under the shade of a large tree.
"This," said the hunter to himself, "is the man who has done the
mischief; I will make him pay dear for his undue interference." Hereupon
he hastily took up an arrow and placed it on the bow, with the intention
of shooting dead the evildoer. But despite his exertions, heightened by
the thirst for revenge, he could not succeed; both his hands were seized
with a sudden quivering, and his feet appeared as if nailed to the
ground. He stood motionless in that attitude. Absorbed in meditation,
Buddha was not aware what was going on so close to him.

The sons of the hunter as well as their wives grew very much troubled
that their father did not return at the usual hour from visiting his
nets. They feared that some untoward accident had overtaken him. They
armed themselves and went in search of him. They soon came to the spot
where they saw the sad position of their father. At the same moment,
perceiving a yellow-dressed individual, they hastily concluded, that, by
the power of some charms, he had brought their father into this
miserable condition. They made up their mind to kill him. But whilst
they were preparing to put their cruel design into execution, their
hands, suddenly benumbed, could not grasp the weapons, and they all
stood motionless and speechless. Awaking at last from contemplation,
Buddha saw the hunter and all his family standing before him. Taking
compassion on them, he restored them to their ordinary condition, and
preached to them. They all fell at his knees, craved his pardon,
believed in him, and became fervent Upasakas.

Buddha returned to Thawattie to spend the twentieth season in the
Dzetawon monastery. It was at that period that there happened a
remarkable change in the management of the domestic affairs of Gaudama.
Up to the present time, no one among the religious had been specially
appointed to attend on Buddha and administer to his wants. But some of
them, as circumstances occurred, undertook the agreeable and honourable
duty of serving him. However human nature will occasionally let appear,
even in the best of men, some marks of its innate imperfections. On two
occasions, the Rahans who followed Buddha and carried his mendicant's
pot and a portion of his dress wished to go in one direction, whilst
Buddha desired them to follow in another. They had the imprudence to
part company with him. Both paid dearly for their disobedience. They
fell into the hands of robbers, who took away all that they had, and
beat them severely on the head. This twofold act of insubordination
painfully affected Buddha. He summoned all the religious into his
presence, and declared that, being old, he wished to appoint one of them
to the permanent office of personal attendant on himself. Thariputra and
Maukalan immediately tendered their services with a pious and loving
earnestness. But Buddha declined to accept their offer, as well as that
of the eighty principal disciples. The reason was, that their services
were required for preaching to the people, and labouring with him for
the dissemination of the true science among men. Some of the disciples
urged Ananda to volunteer his services; but out of modesty he remained
silent. Then he added that, should Buddha be willing to accept his
humble services, he knew his heart's dispositions and his willingness to
attend on him on all occasions; he had but to signify his good pleasure.
As to him, he would be too happy to accept the office. Buddha expressed
his readiness to confer on him the honourable employment. He was
formally appointed and nominated Phra's attendant, and, during the
twenty-five remaining seasons, he acted as the beloved and devoted
attendant on Buddha's person. Through him alone visitors were ushered
into Buddha's presence, and orders were communicated to the members of
the assembly. Gaudama was then fifty-five years old.

On a certain day he went to the village of Dzantoo for the purpose of
collecting alms. Manh Nat, his inveterate foe, entered into the heart of
all the villagers to prevent them from giving alms to the mendicant. He
succeeded so well in his wicked design that no one noticed Gaudama's
passage through the street, nor gave him alms. When he drew near to the
gate, Manh stood by the side of the street, and asked him, with a
sarcastic tone, how he felt under the pangs of hunger. Buddha replied to
him, that he could, by entering into the state of perfect trance,
remain, like the great Brahma, without using material food, feeding
only, as it were, on the inward happiness created by the immediate sight
of unclouded truth. Five hundred young virgins, who happened to return
from the country into the place, prostrated themselves before Buddha,
listened to his instructions, and reached the state of Thautapan.

On leaving the place, Buddha happened to travel through a forest, which
had become an object of terror to all the people of Kothala, as being
the favourite haunt of Ougalimala, a notorious robber and murderer. The
ruler of the country, Pasenadi, had heard from the windows of his palace
the cries of his alarmed subjects. Despite the many remonstrances that
were made concerning the dangers of such an attempt, Buddha went
straight forward to the den of the formidable man, who, enraged at such
presumptuous boldness, was preparing to make him pay dear for his
intrusion. But he had to deal with an opponent that could not easily be
frightened. To his threats and attempts to inflict harm Gaudama opposed
the meekest composure, the mildest expressions, and an invincible
patience. Softened by the kindness of his opponent, Ougalimala altered
the tone of his voice, and showed signs of respect to Buddha. The
latter, quickly perceiving the change that had taken place in the
robber's soul, preached to him the law, and made of him a sincere
convert. Coming out from the forest which had been the scene of so many
crimes, he followed Buddha, with the behaviour of an humble disciple.
The people of Kosala could scarcely give credit to the change that had
taken place in Ougalimala. In a short time he became a Rahanda, and died
not long after he had become perfect. The members of the assembly were,
on a certain day, talking among themselves about the place he had
probably migrated to. Buddha, who had overheard their conversation on
this subject, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, the Rahan Ougalimala, who
died a little while after his conversion, has reached the deliverance.
His conversion was at once prompt and perfect. He was very wicked
previous to his conversion, because he never cohabited except with
wicked and perverse associates, the company of whom led him into all
sorts of disorders. But he no sooner had the good fortune to meet me,
hear my instructions, and converse with you, than he at once believed in
my doctrine, adhered to me with all his might, and entered into the way
leading to perfection. He laboured strenuously to destroy in himself the
law of demerits, and thus rapidly reached the summit of perfection."




CHAPTER XII.

    _Buddha is slandered in Thawattie -- Questions put to him by
    a pounha -- Story of Anatapein's daughter -- Conversion of a
    pounha whose navel emitted rays of light -- Blank in a great
    part of Buddha's life -- Story of Dewadat -- His jealousy
    towards Buddha -- His friendship with Prince Adzatathat -- His
    ambition -- His attempt to kill Buddha -- His miserable end._


While the most excellent Buddha was in the Dzetawon monastery, the
heretics of Thawattie made another attempt to lower, nay, to destroy his
reputation. They prevailed upon Thondarie, a woman entirely devoted to
their interests, to spread the rumour that she had spent a night in the
apartments of Buddha. When the calumny had been noised abroad, they
suborned a gang of drunkards, to whom they promised a large sum of
money, if they would do away with the instrument of the slander. They
accordingly selected a favourable opportunity, killed Thondarie, and
threw her body into a cluster of bushes close to the monastery. When the
crime had been perpetrated, the heretics raised a cry all over the
country inquiring about Thondarie. She could nowhere be found. Search
was made in every direction, until at last, by the secret directions of
their emissaries, the body was found on the spot where it had been
apparently concealed. The party hostile to Buddha laid the crime at his
door. The king of the country, urged on by them, ordered a strict
inquiry to be made. The infamous trick was at last discovered in the
following manner. The perpetrators of the deed happened to go into a
drinking-place. Heated by the liquor they had taken, they began to
accuse each other of having killed Thondarie. Their conversation was
overheard by one of the king's servants, who had them arrested and led
to the palace. The king said to them, "Wicked men, is it true that you
have killed the woman Thondarie?" They answered, "It is true we have
killed her." "Who advised you to commit the murder?" "The Deitty
teachers, who have paid us one thousand pieces of silver." Indignant at
such a horrible deed, the king ordered the murderers and their advisers
to be put to death. Their punishment consisted in their being buried in
the earth up to their waist. They were subsequently covered with a heap
of straw, which being set fire to, they were burnt to death. Buddha told
his disciples that what had happened on this melancholy occasion was but
a just retribution for his having in a former existence been drunk, and
in that state abused and slandered a holy personage.

In one of his preaching excursions, Gaudama converted a distinguished
pounha, who asked him, "Illustrious Buddha, what has the great Brahma
done to merit the extraordinary glory that encompasses his person and
the unsurpassed felicity that he enjoys?" To whom he answered, "The
great Brahma, during several existences, has bestowed abundant alms on
the needy, delivered many people from great perils, and delighted in
giving instruction to the ignorant. Such meritorious deeds have procured
for him the transcendent rank that he occupies, and secured to him for
an immense period of time the matchless happiness that he possesses."

Two rich men, one of Thawattie, and the other a denizen of the Ougga
city, had in their youth, when engaged in their studies, promised each
other that he who should have a daughter would give her in marriage to
the son of the other. When they had grown up, the rich man of Thawattie
became a disciple of Buddha, but his friend followed the teachings of
the heretics. In due time Anatapein, for such was the name of the
former, had a beautiful daughter. His friend Ougga had also a fine
grown-up son. It came to pass that Ougga on a certain day arrived from
his place with five hundred carts of goods to Thawattie, for the
purpose of trading. He lodged, as a matter of course, in his friend's
house. During the conversation Ougga reminded his host of their former
promise, and declared that he would be too happy to have it fulfilled
without delay. Anatapein, having consulted his wife and daughter, and
secured their consent, agreed to the proposal that was made to him. The
pious rich man, however, was somewhat concerned respecting the dangers
of his daughter's position in the midst of upholders of false doctrines.
He gave her a retinue of female attendants, who could, by their advice
and conversation, maintain intact in her the faith in Buddha. When the
bride arrived, after a long journey, to Ougga's city, she was desired by
her father-in-law to go in the company of his wife to pay her respects
to his teachers, who were sitting quite naked, with dishevelled hairs,
in the midst of the most disgusting uncleanness, under a shed prepared
for them. Unused to such an unsightly and revolting display, the modest
girl recoiled back with a becoming horror, refusing even to cast a look
at them. Enraged at the contempt shown to his teachers, the unnatural
father-in-law threatened to send her away from his house, as being an
unsuitable match for his son. Firm in her faith, she withstood all the
efforts that were made to induce her to alter her resolution and pay
attention to such individuals. She went back into her apartments. Having
somewhat recovered her spirits, and regained her usual calm and serene
composure, the pious young lady began, in the presence of her
mother-in-law and other ladies of the town, to praise and extol the
glory, modesty, meekness, and all the other qualifications which adorned
her great teacher and his disciples. The hearers were delighted at all
that they heard, and expressed an eager desire to see them and hear
their instructions.

On that very day the compassionate Buddha was at an early hour, as
usual, reviewing the beings dwelling on the island of Dzampoudipa,
endeavouring to discover those that were well disposed to hear the
truth. His searching glance soon discovered what was going on in the
house of the rich man Ougga, and the good dispositions of many of its
inmates. "Thither," said he, "I shall hasten to preach the law, for many
shall be converted." Hereupon he summoned five hundred disciples to
attend him. They all took their pattas and other articles. With his
company he flew through the air, and soon alighted in the courtyard of
the rich man's house. All were rejoiced to see Buddha and his disciples.
They lent a most attentive ear to his instructions. The rich man, his
household, and a great number of the people of the town were converted.
Anouroudha was left at Ougga to complete, perfect, and extend the good
work so happily begun. Buddha in all haste returned to Thawattie.

At that time a great noise was made throughout the country on account of
a certain pounha whose navel emitted a sort of light in the shape of a
moon. He belonged to the party of unbelievers. He was led by them into
every village and town, as a living proof of the power they possessed.
At last his friends introduced him into the Dzetawon monastery. He was
no sooner introduced into Buddha's presence, when the prodigy suddenly
ceased. He went away somewhat annoyed at his misfortune; but he had
scarcely crossed the threshold of the monastery when the light
reappeared. Three times he came before the great preacher, and three
times the light was completely eclipsed. No doubt could be entertained
that there was in Buddha some secret power superior to the one he
possessed. The pounha was at once disconcerted and bewildered. In his
ignorance he attributed the accident to some superior magical formula
possessed by Buddha, and asked him to teach him the said formula. Buddha
said to him, "O pounha! I possess no charm; I ignore all magical
formulas. There is in me but one virtue; it is that which I have
gathered at the foot of the Bodi tree during the forty-nine days that I
have spent there in the deepest meditation. As to what attracts now the
attention of the people in your person, you are indebted for it to the
offering of a gold coronet, in the shape of a moon, you made to a Buddha
during a former existence. The reward bestowed on you for such a good
work is but a transient one. It can afford you no real, substantial, and
lasting happiness. Hearken to my doctrine; it will confer on you a
never-ending recompense." He went on explaining to him many points of
the law. The pounha believed in Buddha; nay, he applied for the dignity
of Rahan, and finally became a Rahanda.

_N.B_.--The history of Buddha offers an almost complete blank as to what
regards his doings and preachings during a period of nearly twenty-three
years,[1] beginning with the twenty-first season, when he was fifty-six
years old, and ending with the forty-fourth season, having reached the
patriarchal age of seventy-nine years. So entirely are we kept in
ignorance of the important transactions that took place during so long a
portion of Buddha's life, that the writer, after having vainly
consulted several manuscripts, is reluctantly obliged to come to the
same conclusion as that which the Burmese authors have arrived at, viz.,
that there is a complete disagreement as to even the names of the places
where Buddha spent the twenty-three remaining seasons. Out of regard for
the rich man Anatapein, who for so many years had been one of his most
liberal supporters, Buddha spent the greatest part of the remaining
seasons in the Dzetawon monastery. During the few others he seems to
have stayed at or near Radzagio, chiefly in the Weloowon monastery. The
amount of seasons spent by our Phra from the time he obtained the
Buddhaship till his death is forty-five.

I find related, as a fact worthy of notice, the donation by a rich widow
of Wethalie, named Wisaka, of the celebrated Pouppayon monastery. It was
situated not far from the Dzetawon, in an eastern direction from that
famous place. It is mentioned that when Phra sallied from the Dzetawon
monastery by the eastern gate, the people of the country knew that he
was going to dwell for awhile in the Pouppayon monastery; when, on the
other hand, he was observed to leave it by the northern gate, all the
people understood that he was undertaking a journey through the country
for the purpose of preaching. The epoch of this donation is not certain.
It appears from some particulars indirectly alluded to that it must have
taken place when Buddha was sixty years old.

In following our manuscript, we find inserted in this place the detailed
accounts respecting Dewadat, related by Buddha himself in the Dzetawon
monastery, in the presence of a large party of his disciples. The fact
of Buddha mentioning the name of Adzatathat as king of Radzagio, leaves
no doubt respecting the time when the awful punishment is supposed to
have been meted out to Dewadat, on account of the many heinous sins laid
to his charge. Adzatathat, having murdered his father Pimpathara, by
starving him to death in a prison, became king of Radzagio, and
succeeded him when Buddha was nearly seventy-two years old. He was
already king, as the sequel will show, when Dewadat was as yet his
spiritual adviser. It is probable that the following narrative was made
not more than two years after the above date.

When the most excellent Buddha was in the Dzetawon monastery, alluding
to the sad fate that had fallen Dewadat, he related the causes that had
brought on this dreadful occurrence.

At a certain time, when Buddha was spending a season in the Kosamby
country, the people came in great numbers every day to the monastery to
bring abundant alms, and pay their respects to him and the assembly. On
certain occasions they made inquiries about the most distinguished
members of the assembly, such as Thariputra, Maukalan, Anouroudda,
Ananda, Bagoo, Kimila, and others, giving utterance to the feelings of
admiration and love they entertained towards them. But they never took
the least notice of Dewadat. The latter keenly resented the studied
slight; the more so, because he thought that in his capacity of member
of the assembly and of his royal descent, he was entitled to as much
consideration as many others, who in this twofold respect were greatly
his inferiors. He resolved to leave the company of Buddha and go to some
other place. He went to Radzagio and ingratiated himself in the favours
of the young Prince Adzatathat, son of King Pimpathara, The young
prince, taken up with the grave manners of the new-comer, acknowledged
him as his teacher, and built for him a monastery on the Yauthitha hill,
close to the city.

Some years afterwards Buddha came to Radzagio to spend a season in the
Weloowon monastery. Dewadat went to his monastery. Having paid his
respects in the usual manner and occupied a becoming place, he three
times requested the permission of having an assembly or thinga of his
own, quite distinct from the other, which was under the immediate
management of Buddha. On this point he three times received a direct
refusal to his demand. From that day the jealousy he entertained towards
Buddha waxed to a base envy, which soon generated in his soul a deadly
hatred against him. He made up his mind to break with Buddha all ties of
spiritual relationship, and to become the chief of a new religious body.
To succeed in his impious design he required the support of the secular
arm. The king of Magatha was in favour of Buddha, but his son had warmly
espoused the cause of Dewadat. In such a position, the evil-disposed
Dewadat advised Prince Adzatathat to compass the destruction of his
father, in order to become king. The ambitious son followed the
detestable advice, and put an end to his father's life by starving him
to death in a prison, in spite of his own mother's exertions to save her
royal husband's life.

It was in the thirty-seventh season of Buddha's public mission that
Adzatathat ascended the throne of Magatha. Under the new king's
auspices, Dewadat carried everything before him with a high hand.
Assured of the new king's support, he hired thirty bowmen and promised
them an ample reward if they killed Buddha. The ruffians gladly agreed
to the proposal. But when they were on the point of committing the
crime, they felt themselves overawed by the presence of Buddha. Instead
of executing the order they had received, they fell at his feet, craved
his pardon, listened to his preaching, and were converted one after the
other. Disappointed on this point, Dewadat designed another plan to rid
himself of the great preacher. He watched the moment when Buddha was
walking at the foot of a hill, named Weitsa-gout. From the summit he
rolled a large stone that was to crush his enemy. Fortunately on its way
down the hill's side it met with a small obstacle, on which it split
into several parts. One splinter alone hurt the toe of one of Buddha's
feet, and severely bruised it. On hearing of such a nefarious and
cowardly attempt, the disciples hastened to the spot and conveyed their
beloved master to his monastery. They offered to keep guard round his
person, to prevent the repetition of other attempts on his life. But
Buddha said to them that no mortal had the power to hurt him so far as
to cause his death. He thanked them for this new token of their
affectionate regard towards him, and bade them return to their
respective places. The celebrated physician Dzewaka, having been sent
for, applied a bandage, which, being removed on the following morning,
it was found, to the surprise and joy of all present, that the injured
toe was perfectly cured. On another occasion Dewadat made a last attempt
on Buddha's life, in the suburbs of Radzagio, by the means of an
elephant, infuriated and maddened by strong liquor forced into his
throat. The animal was let loose in one of the streets which Gaudama was
perambulating gathering alms in his mendicant's pot. But far from doing
any injury to Buddha, the elephant, having come into his presence, stood
for awhile, and then knelt before him in token of respect. In this
manner Dewadat signally failed in this last wicked attempt.

Dewadat differed from his cousin on some points of discipline; and this
difference occasioned the schism that he meditated to establish.[2] He
had proposed to Buddha to make it obligatory on all Rahans to live in
forests at the foot of certain trees; not to receive food from the
people in their own places, but to use only as articles of food such
things as they could procure by their exertions; to use robes made up of
rags collected in the dust of public thoroughfares, and not such as
might be offered by pious laymen; to abstain from fish and meat; and to
dwell in unroofed places. Gaudama positively refused to accede to his
demands. Meanwhile he meekly warned him against the sin of schism,
telling him that the commission of such an offence would throw the
perpetrator into the hell Awidzi for a whole revolution of nature. Deaf
to such a salutary warning, Dewadat precipitated himself into schism. He
gained over to his party five hundred inexperienced Rahans of the Witzi
country, and with them dwelt in the monastery of Gayathitha. He signally
failed in his attempt to draw Ananda to his side. Thariputra, by the
advice of Buddha, went to Dewadat's place. Profiting from the time he
was asleep at a distance, he prevailed upon the five hundred Rahans to
abandon schism and return to Buddha, the centre of unity, who was then
in the Dzetawon monastery in Wethalie. Rising from his sleep, Dewadat
fell into a paroxysm of rage at the trick played on him. He instantly
resolved to start for the Dzetawon monastery, to have his revenge on
Buddha for the injury done unto him. He was carried in a litter.
Messenger after messenger informed Buddha of the approach of his
antagonist. But he calmly said to his disciples: "Beloved sons, do not
trouble yourselves. Dewadat shall not see my face nor enter the
precincts of this place." Information was, in haste, conveyed that
Dewadat had actually reached the tank close to the monastery, and was
resting a while under the shade of a tree. Gaudama calmly gave the same
assurance to his trembling disciples. But the moment of a terrible
punishment was at hand. Dewadat, quitting his couch, stood up for a
while, to refresh his wearied limbs. But he was seen by his astonished
and bewildered companions gradually sinking into the earth, first up to
his knees, then to his navel, and finally to his shoulders. At that
moment he humbled himself, confessed his fault, acknowledged and
proclaimed the glory of Buddha. He then disappeared, wrapt in flame, and
fell to the bottom of the hell Awidzi. His punishment consists in having
his feet sunk ankle-deep in a burning ground; his head is covered with a
red-hot pan, that caps his head down to the lobe of the ears; two huge
red-hot iron bars transfixt him horizontally from right to left, two
from back to front, and one impales him from top to bottom. He shall
have to suffer in that frightful position during a revolution of nature.
But, for his tardy and sincere repentance, he shall be delivered, and,
by his exertions in practising virtue, he shall become a Pitzegabuddha,
under the name of Atisara.

Adzatathat ruled over the two countries of Enga and Magatha. His mother
was Waydahi, the sister of King Pathenadi, who ruled over the two
countries of Kaci and Kosala. Adzatathat, who was of a bellicose temper,
quarrelled with his uncle on account of some districts in Kaci, which he
seized by force of arms. Unable to resist the army of his nephew,
Pathenadi offered to the invader the hand of his daughter Watzera-komma.
The offer was accepted, and a reconciliation followed. Three years
afterwards, Pathenadi lost his throne, which was seized by Meittadoubba,
a son he had had by a concubine. Pathenadi went to Radzagio to ask
assistance against the usurper from his son-in-law. But he died on his
way to that place.

It was under the rule of Meittadoubba, in the forty-fourth season, that
occurred the total destruction of the Thagiwi princes of Kosala and
Kapilawot by the ambitious Adzatathat.

Buddha spent the forty-fourth season in the Dzetawon monastery. When the
season was over, he went to dwell in the Weitzagout monastery, near
Radzagio. While he was in that place, there was spread a rumour that
Adzatathat entertained hostile feelings towards Wethalie. Buddha then
foretold that as long as the princes of Wethalie would be united and
avoid internal strife and contention, they would be more than a match
for their enemy; but should quarrel take place among them, they and
their country would fall an easy prey to the invader. These words, which
fell from Buddha's mouth, were not forgotten by a pounha who was one of
Adzatathat's ministers. He planned, with his royal mother's consent and
secret encouragement, the destruction of the rulers of Wethalie, and the
conquest of that country, by contriving to sow the seed of dissension
among the Letziwi princes. His plan met with complete success some years
later, about three years after Gaudama's Neibban, as we shall have the
opportunity of relating.


FOOTNOTES

    [1] This short summary of Buddha's life, indicating but little
    more than the names of the places where he had spent twenty
    seasons, and leaving us in the dark as to all the particulars
    regarding the twenty-three other seasons, is another
    illustration of the assertion, made in some foregoing passages,
    that the present compilation is very concise and imperfect,
    supplying us with but an outline of Buddha's proceedings during
    the course of his preachings. He reached the age of eighty.
    According to the authority of this legend, Buddha lived
    forty-five years after he had obtained the Buddhaship. He was
    therefore thirty-five when he began his public life and entered
    the career of preaching the law. It is not in my power to say
    anything positive respecting the antiquity of this work, but the
    statement of the main facts is borne out by the united testimony
    of the Buddhistic works existing in various parts and in
    different languages of Eastern Asia. If it be true that our
    Buddha lived so long, we must believe that his time during the
    last twenty-five years was employed in the same benevolent
    undertaking, viz., to preach the sacred law and point out to
    beings the way that shall lead them to the deliverance. Many
    volumes are full of the disputes on religious subjects between
    Buddha and the heretics, that is to say, his opponents. We may
    conclude that those controversies took place during the latter
    part of Buddha's life, as it cannot be doubted that they
    increased in proportion to the progress the new doctrines made
    among the people. If, however, we are in great part kept in the
    dark respecting the doings of the great reformer during a long
    period of his public life, we are amply compensated by the
    account of many interesting circumstances that occurred chiefly
    during the last year of his earthly career.

    [2] Dewadat, in insisting upon the adoption of regulations of a
    more rigid character, intended to imitate, to a certain extent,
    the conduct of the mendicants of the opposite party. He aimed at
    rivalling them in the practice of austere observances. It does
    not appear that he innovated in the dogmas that he had learned
    at the school of his great teacher. As his royal pupil,
    Adzatathat, had hitherto supported the party of the pounhas, it
    is not improbable that Dewadat wished to lessen the differences
    between the practices and observances of the two parties, to
    render them less perceptible, and by doing so, to prepare the
    way, by gradual approximation, for a complete fusion. He
    exhibited himself in the character of a rigid reformer, who was
    displeased with the too lenient tenor of the disciplinary
    regulations instituted by Buddha. Be that as it may, it is
    certain that jealousy in the beginning inspired him with the
    idea of separating from the assembly. This first step led him
    farther than he at first contemplated. He wished to set up an
    assembly, or thinga of his own, and thereby to place himself on
    a footing of equality and rivalry with his cousin. Meeting with
    greater resistance than he expected, and being convinced that he
    could not succeed so long as Buddha should be alive, he did not
    shrink from making several attempts on his life. It is a fact
    worthy of notice that the disturbances which took place
    subsequently in the Buddhist society had their origin, in most
    instances, in points of discipline of a trivial importance,
    which were altered or rejected by a fraction of the assembly,
    whilst they were upheld with the utmost tenacity by the greater
    portion of the Rahans, as having been established by Gaudama.
    This observation will be fully corroborated by the particulars
    that we shall relate on the subject of the councils or meetings
    held after Gaudama's death.


                             END OF VOL. I.


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       *       *       *       *       *

    In Two Volumes, post 8vo, cloth, pp. 426 and 460, price 25s.
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    ALBÊRÛNÎ'S INDIA.

    AN ACCOUNT OF THE RELIGION, PHILOSOPHY, LITERATURE, GEOGRAPHY,
    CHRONOLOGY, ASTRONOMY, CUSTOMS, LAWS, AND ASTROLOGY OF INDIA
    ABOUT A.D. 1030.

    An English Edition, with Notes and Indices.

    By DR. EDWARD C. SACHAU,
    Professor in the Royal University of Berlin, and Principal of
    the Seminary for Oriental Languages; Member of the Royal Academy
    of Berlin, and Corresponding Member of the Imperial Academy of
    Vienna Honorary Member of the Asiatic Society of Great Britain
    and Ireland, London, and of the American Oriental Society,
    Cambridge, U.S.A.

EXTRACT FROM PREFACE.

Albêrûnî, or, as his compatriots called him, Abû Raihân, was born A.D.
973, in the territory of modern Khiva, then called Khwârizm, or
Chorasmia in antiquity. Early distinguishing himself in science and
literature, he played a political part as councillor of the ruling
prince of his native country of the Ma'mûni family.

In the opening of his book Albêrûnî gives an account of the
circumstances which suggested to him the idea of writing the [Greek:
Indiká]. Once the conversation with a friend of his, else unknown, ran
on the then existing literature on the history of religion and
philosophy, its merits and demerits. When, in particular, the literature
on the belief of the Hindus came to be criticised, Albêrûnî maintained
that all of it was second-hand and thoroughly uncritical. To verify the
matter, his friend once more examines the books in question, which
results in his agreeing with our author, and his asking him to fill up
this gap in the Arabic literature of the time. The book he has produced
is not a polemical one. He will not convert the Hindus, nor lend a
direct help to missionary zealots. He will simply describe Hinduism,
without identifying himself with it. He takes care to inform the reader
that he is not responsible for whatsoever repugnant detail he has to
relate, but the Hindus themselves. He gives a repertory of information
on Indian subjects, destined for the use of those who lived in peaceable
intercourse with them, and wished to have an insight into their mode and
world of thought.

The author has nothing in common with the Muhammadan Ghâzî who wanted
to convert the Hindus or to kill them, and his book scarcely reminds the
reader of the incessant war between Islam and India, during which it had
been prepared, and by which the possibility of writing such a book had
first been given. It is like a magic island of quiet, impartial research
in the midst of a world of clashing swords, burning towns, and plundered
temples. The object which the author had in view, and never for a moment
lost sight of, was to afford the necessary information and training to
"_any one_ (in Islam) _who wants to converse with the Hindus, and to
discuss with them questions of religion, science, or literature, on the
very basis of their own civilisation_."

In general, it is the method of our author not to speak himself, but to
let the Hindus speak, giving extensive quotations from their classical
authors. He presents a picture of Indian civilisation as painted by the
Hindus themselves. Many chapters, not all, open with a short
characteristic introduction of a general nature. The body of most
chapters consists of three parts. The first is a _précis_ of the
question, as the author understands it.

The second part brings forward the doctrines of the Hindus, quotations
from Sanskrit books in the chapters on religion, philosophy, astronomy,
and astrology, and other kinds of information which had been
communicated to him by word of mouth, or things which he had himself
observed in the chapters on literature, historic chronology, geography,
law, manners, and customs. In the third part he does the same as
Megasthenes had already done; he tries to bring the sometimes very
exotic subject nearer to the understanding of his readers by comparing
it with the theories of ancient Greece, and by other comparisons. In the
disposition of every single chapter, as well as in the sequence of the
chapters, a perspicuous, well-considered plan is apparent. There is no
patchwork nor anything superfluous, and the words fit to the subject as
close as possible.

He does not blindly accept the traditions of former ages; he wants to
understand and to criticise them. He wants to sift the wheat from the
chaff, and he will discard everything that militates against the laws of
nature and of reason.

He criticises manuscript tradition like a modern philologist. He
sometimes supposes the text to be corrupt, and inquires into the cause
of the corruption; he discusses various readings, and proposes
emendations. He guesses at _lacunæ_, criticises different translations,
and complains of the carelessness and ignorance of the copyists.

    This valuable and interesting work has been out of print for
    many years, and second-hand copies have been very difficult to
    obtain even at a high premium. At the urgent request of many
    scholars and students both in England and India, the publishers
    have decided to issue the present reprint at a cheaper price
    than the original edition.

       *       *       *       *       *

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    INDIAN POETRY:

    CONTAINING "THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS."

    From the Sanskrit of the "Gita Govinda" of Jayadeva; Two Books
    from "The Iliad of India" (Mah[.a]bhârata), "Proverbial Wisdom"
    from the Shlokas of the Hitopadesa, and other Oriental Poems.

    By SIR EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c., &c.

    CONTENTS.

    The Indian Song of Songs--
      Introduction.
      Hymn to Vishnu.
      Sarga the First--The Sports of Krishna.
      Sarga the Second--The Penitence of Krishna.
      Sarga the Third--Krishna Troubled.
      Sarga the Fourth--Krishna Cheered.
      Sarga the Fifth--The Longings of Krishna.
      Sarga the Sixth--Krishna made Bolder.
      Sarga the Seventh--Krishna supposed False.
      Sarga the Eighth--The Rebuking of Krishna.
      Sarga the Ninth--The End of Krishna's Trial.
      Sarga the Tenth--Krishna in Paradise.
      Sarga the Eleventh--The Union of Radha and Krishna.

    Miscellaneous Oriental Poems--
      The Rajpoot Wife.
      King Saladin.
      The Caliph's Draught.
      Hindoo Funeral Song.
      Song of the Serpent Charmers.
      Song of the Flour-Mill.
      Taza ba Taza.
      The Mussulman Paradise.
      Dedication of a Poem from the Sanskrit.
      The Rajah's Ride.

    Two Books from "The Iliad of India."
      The Great Journey.
      The Entry into Heaven.

    The Night of Slaughter.

    The Morning Prayer.

    Proverbial Wisdom from the Shlokas of the Hitopadesa.

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

"In this new volume Sir Edwin Arnold does good service by illustrating,
through the medium of his musical English melodies, the power of Indian
poetry to stir European emotions. 'The Indian Song of Songs' is not
unknown to scholars. Sir Edwin Arnold will have introduced it among
popular English poems."--_Times._

"Complete mastery of the English language, combined with genuine poetic
fervour, has enabled the translator of 'The Indian Song of Songs' to
spread before his readers a feast of dulcet sounds and lyrical language.
Music seems to flow from his pen as naturally as rain from the cloud or
song from the throat of the thrush."--_Morning Post._

"The poem abounds with imagery of Eastern luxuriousness and
sensuousness; the air seems laden with the spicy odours of the tropics,
and the verse has a richness and a melody sufficient to captivate the
senses of the dullest."--_Standard._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Third Edition. Post 8vo, pp. viii.-464, cloth, price 16s.

    THE S[=A]NKHYA APHORISMS OF KAPILA,
    With Illustrative Extracts from the Commentaries.

    Translated by J. R. BALLANTYNE, LL.D., late Principal of the
    Benares College.

    Edited by FITZEDWARD HALL.

"The work displays a vast expenditure of labour and scholarship, for
which students of Hindoo philosophy have every reason to be grateful to
Dr. Hall and the publishers."--_Calcutta Review._

       *       *       *       *       *

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    THE RELIGIONS OF INDIA.

    BY A. BARTH,
    Member of the Société Asiatique of Paris.

    Authorised translation by Rev. J. Wood, Edin.

India has not only preserved for us in her Vedas the most ancient and
complete documents for the study of the old religious beliefs founded on
nature-worship, which, in an extremely remote past, were common to all
the branches of the Indo-European family; she is also the only country
where these beliefs, in spite of many changes both in form and fortune,
continue to subsist up to the present time. Whilst everywhere else they
have been either as good as extinguished by monotheistic religions of
foreign origin, in some instances without leaving behind them a single
direct and authentic trace of their presence, or abruptly cut short in
their evolution and forced to survive within the barriers, henceforth
immovable, of a petty Church, as in the case of Parseeism,--in India
alone they present up to this time, as a rich and varied literature
attests, a continuous, self-determined development, in the course of
which, instead of contracting, they have continued to enlarge their
borders. It is owing in a great measure to this extraordinary longevity
that such an interest attaches to the separate and independent study of
the Hindu religions, irrespective altogether of the estimate we may form
of their dogmatic or practical worth. Nowhere else do we meet with
circumstances, on the whole, so favourable for the study of the
successive transformations and destiny, so to speak, of a polytheistic
idea of the universe.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, cloth. pp. cviii.-242 and viii.-370. Two volumes,
    price 24s.

    SI-YU-KI.

    BUDDHIST RECORDS OF THE WESTERN WORLD.

    Translated from the Chinese of HUIEN TSIANG (A.D. 629). By
    SAMUEL BEAL, B.A. (Trin. Col., Camb.), R.N. (Retired Chaplain
    and N.I.), Professor of Chinese, University College, London;
    Rector of Wark, Northumberland, &c.

The progress which has been made in our knowledge of Northern Buddhism
during the last few years is due very considerably to the discovery of
the Buddhist literature of China. This literature (now well known to us
through the catalogues already published) contains, amongst other
valuable works, the records of the travels of various Chinese Buddhist
pilgrims who visited India during the early centuries of our era. These
records embody the testimony of independent eyewitnesses as to the facts
related in them, and having been faithfully preserved and allotted a
place in the collection of the sacred book of the country, their
evidence is entirely trustworthy.

It would be impossible to mention _seriatim_ the various points of
interest in these works, as they refer to the geography, history,
manners, and religion of the people of India. The reader who looks into
the pages of this book will find ample material for study on all these
questions. But there is one particular that gives a more than usual
interest to the records under notice, and that is the evident sincerity
and enthusiasm of the travellers themselves. Never did more devoted
pilgrims leave their native country to encounter the perils of travel in
foreign and distant lands; never did disciples more ardently desire to
gaze on the sacred vestiges of their religion; never did men endure
greater sufferings by desert, mountain, and sea than these
simple-minded, earnest Buddhist priests. And that such courage,
religious devotion, and power of endurance should be exhibited by men so
sluggish, as we think, in their very nature as the Chinese, this is very
surprising, and may perhaps arouse some consideration.

       *       *       *       *       *

    In Two Volumes, post 8vo, pp. xii.-336 and x.-352, cloth, price
    21s.

    MEDIÆVAL RESEARCHES FROM EASTERN ASIATIC SOURCES.

    FRAGMENTS TOWARDS THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE GEOGRAPHY AND HISTORY OF
    CENTRAL AND WESTERN ASIA FROM THE THIRTEENTH TO THE SEVENTEENTH
    CENTURY.

    BY E. BRETSCHNEIDER, M.D.,
    Formerly Physician of the Russian Legation at Pekin.

EXTRACT FROM PREFACE

The subjects dealt with in the two volumes form a carefully revised and
improved edition of three essays gathered into one collection, viz.:--
  1. Notes on Chinese Mediæval Travellers to the West, 1875.
  2. Notices of the Mediæval Geography and History of Central and
     Western Asia, 1876.
  3. Chinese Intercourse with the Countries of Central and Western
     Asia during the Fifteenth Century, 1877.

Since the first publication of these papers, large additions have been
made to the stock of our knowledge regarding the regions of Central
Asia which, previously to the Russian occupation of these tracts, had
been inaccessible to scientific exploration. Thus new light has been
thrown upon many interesting geographical questions suggested by
the narratives of mediæval travellers, or hitherto based only upon
more modern but vague and dubious Chinese accounts.

To bring the new edition of those former researches up to the
present advanced state of knowledge on the subject, I had to study
a vast amount of literature, written for the greater part in Russian,
which has come to light, on Central Asia, and was obliged to read
through a great number of works and papers, some of them published
in Russian Turkestan, and, therefore, difficult to obtain. In general,
all reading accessible to me bearing on the subject has been made use
of for the elucidation of mediæval geographical questions arising out
of my researches.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. xii.-164, cloth, price 10s. 6d.

    THE HISTORY OF ESARHADDON
    (Son of Sennacherib),

    KING OF ASSYRIA, B.C. 681-668.

    Translated from the Cuneiform Inscriptions upon Cylinders and
    Tablets in the British Museum Collection; together with a
    Grammatical Analysis of each Word, Explanations of the
    Ideographs by Extracts from the Bi-Lingual Syllabaries, and List
    of Eponyms, &c.

    BY E. A. WALLIS BUDGE, M.A., Litt.D., D.Lit.,
    Keeper of the Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities in the British
    Museum.

"Students of scriptural archæology will also appreciate the 'History of
Esarhaddon.'"--_Times._

"There is much to attract the scholar in this volume. It does not
pretend to popularise studies which are yet in their infancy. Its
primary object is to translate, but it does not assume to be more than
tentative, and it offers both to the professed Assyriologist and to the
ordinary non-Assyriological Semitic scholar the means of controlling its
results."--_Academy._

"Mr. Budge's book is, of course, mainly addressed to Assyrian scholars
and students. They are not, it is to be feared, a very numerous class.
But the more thanks are due to him on that account for the way in which
he has acquitted himself in his laborious task."--_Tablet._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. xlviii.-398, cloth, price 12s.

    THE ORDINANCES OF MANU.

    Translated from the Sanskrit, with an Introduction.

    By the late A. C. BURNELL, Ph.D., C.I.E.

    Completed and Edited by E. W. HOPKINS, Ph.D., of Columbia
    College, N.Y.

"This work is full of interest; while for the student of sociology and
the science of religion it is full of importance. It is a great boon to
get so notable a work in so accessible a form, admirably edited, and
completely translated."--_Scotsman._

"Few men were more competent than Burnell to give us a really good
translation of this well-known law book, first rendered into English by
Sir William Jones. Burnell was not only an independent Sanskrit scholar,
but an experienced lawyer, and he joined to these two important
qualifications the rare faculty of being able to express his thoughts in
clear and trenchant English.... We ought to feel very grateful to Dr.
Hopkins for having given us all that could be published of the
translation left by Burnell."--F. MAX MÜLLER in the _Academy_.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Third Edition. Post 8vo, cloth, pp. vi.-216, price 6s.

    THE BHAGAVAD G[=I]T[=A]; or, THE SACRED LAY.
    A SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHICAL POEM.

    Translated, with Notes,

    BY JOHN DAVIES, M.A. (Cantab.)
    Member of the Royal Asiatic Society, of the Cambridge
    Philological Society, &c., and (sometime) Rector of Walsoken,
    Norfolk.

   I. Introduction.
  II. Translation.
 III. Appendix.
    (i) On the date at which the Bhagavad G[=i]t[=a] was probably
        written, and on the theory that it was written under an
        influence derived from a knowledge of Christian doctrines.
   (ii) The traditional line of descent of the Lunar Dynasty.
  (iii) Collation of two MSS. with the Bonn edition of the
        Bhagavad G[=i]t[=a], and the readings of other editions
        and MSS.

In preparing this translation of the Bhagavad G[=i]t[=a], the author had
before him the Greek translation of Galanos, and the Italian version of
Stanislao Gatti, both supplied by Dr. Reinhold Rost. The author also
consulted the French version of Burnouf, the Latin version of Lassen,
and the English versions of Mr. Thomson and K. T. Telang. The notes of
Lassen have given valuable aid, as well as a paper on the Bhagavad
G[=i]t[=a], read before the "Akademie der Weissenschaften" of Berlin in
1826 by W. van Humboldt, which contained a scholarly review of the
doctrines contained in the poem. The author has also consulted a MS.
copy of the Commentary on the Bhagavad G[=i]t[=a], written by
['S]r[=i]dhara, and, by the kindness of Dr. Rost, another commentary,
attributed to ['S]ankara, but written by ['S]ankara Ananda Saraswati
(quot. at Ananda), and called T[=a]tparya Bodhin[=i].

       *       *       *       *       *

    Second Edition. Post 8vo, cloth, pp. viii.-152, price 6s.

    HINDU PHILOSOPHY.

    THE S[=A]NKHYA K[=A]RIK[=A] OF [=I]['S]WARA KRISHNA.

    An Exposition of the System of Kapila, with an Appendix on the
    Ny[=a]ya and Vai['s]eshika Systems.

    BY JOHN DAVIES, M.A. (Cantab.)
    Member of the Royal Asiatic Society, of the Cambridge
    Philological Society, &c., and (sometime) Rector of Walsoken,
    Norfolk.

EXTRACT FROM PREFACE.

I wish to present to my readers the philosophy of Kapila as it has been
set forth by his Indian exponent, [=I]['s]wara Krishna. The system of
Kapila, called the S[=a]nkhya or Rationalistic, in its original form,
and in its theistic development by Patarijali, contains nearly all that
India has produced in the department of pure philosophy. Other systems,
though classed as philosophic, are mainly devoted to logic and physical
science, or to an exposition of the Vedas.

The system of Kapila may be said to have only an historical value, but
on this account alone it is interesting as a chapter in the history of
the human mind. It is the earliest attempt on record to give an answer,
from reason alone, to the mysterious questions which arise in every
thoughtful mind about the origin of the world, the nature and relations
of man, and his future destiny. It is interesting also and instructive
to note how often the human mind moves in a circle. The latest German
philosophy, the system of Schopenhauer and Von Hartmann, is mainly a
reproduction of the philosophic system of Kapila in its materialistic
part, presented in a more elaborate form, but on the same fundamental
lines. In this respect the human intellect has gone over the same ground
that it occupied more than two thousand years ago, but on a more
important question it has taken a step in retreat. Kapila recognised
fully the existence of a soul in man, forming indeed his proper
nature--the absolute ego of Fichte--distinct from matter and immortal;
but our latest philosophy, both here and in Germany, can see in man only
a highly developed physical organisation. "All external things," says
Kapila, "were formed that the soul might know itself and be free." "The
study of psychology is vain," says Schopenhauer, "for there is no
Psyche."

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. 432, cloth, price 16s.

    A CLASSICAL DICTIONARY OF HINDU MYTHOLOGY AND RELIGION,
    GEOGRAPHY, HISTORY, AND LITERATURE.

    BY JOHN DOWSON, M.R.A.S.,
    Late Professor of Hindustani, Staff College.

"This not only forms an indispensable book of reference to students of
Indian literature, but is also of great general interest, as it gives in
a concise and easily accessible form all that need be known about the
personages of Hindu mythology whose names are so familiar, but of whom
so little is known outside the limited circle of _savants_."--_Times._

"It is no slight gain when such subjects are treated fairly and fully in
a moderate space; and we need only add that the few wants which we may
hope to see supplied in new editions detract but little from the general
excellence of Mr. Dowson's work."--_Saturday Review._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Revised Edition in Two Volumes, post 8vo, pp. xxx.-390;
    xiv.-364, cloth, price 21s.

    A HISTORY OF CIVILISATION IN ANCIENT INDIA.
    BASED ON SANSKRIT LITERATURE,

    BY ROMESH CHUNDER DUTT, C.I.E.

    Of the Indian Civil Service, and of the Middle Temple,
    Barrister-at-Law, Member of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great
    Britain and Ireland, and of the Asiatic Society of Bengal.

    VOL. I.--B.C. 2000 TO 320; VOL. II.--B.C. 320--A.D. 1000.

EXTRACT FROM PREFACE.

The method on which this work has been written is very simple. My
principal object has been to furnish the general reader with a practical
and handy work on the Ancient History of India--not to compose an
elaborate work of discussions on Indian Antiquities. To study clearness
and conciseness on a subject like this was not, however, an easy task.
Every chapter in the present work deals with matters about which long
researches have been made, and various opinions have been recorded. It
would have afforded some satisfaction to me to have given the reader the
history of every controversy, the account of every antiquarian
discovery, and the pros and cons of every opinion advanced. But I could
not yield to this temptation without increasing the work to three or
four times its present humble size, and thus sacrificing the very object
with which it is written. To carry out my primary object I have avoided
every needless discussion, and I have tried to explain as clearly,
concisely, and distinctly as I was able each succeeding phase of Hindu
civilisation and Hindu life in ancient times.

But, while conciseness has been the main object of the present work, I
have also endeavoured to tell my story so that it may leave some
distinct memories on my readers after they have closed the work. For
this reason, I have avoided details as far as possible, and tried to
develop, fully and clearly, the leading facts and features of each
succeeding age. Repetition has not been avoided where such repetition
seemed necessary to impress on my readers the cardinal facts--the
salient features of the story of Hindu civilisation.

    "Mr. Dutt has attempted to popularise learned researches, and
    has undertaken a patriotic work, and in many respects none could
    he better prepared for the task than he.... As far as possible
    he allows the original texts to speak for themselves; his book
    is thus filled with extracts selected and translated with care;
    and the extracts are connected together by analyses and résumés
    in which we always find what is necessary, and seldom what is
    superfluous. He has written with enthusiasm, in a language clear
    and correct, and without that needless display of erudition
    which tires more than it instructs. On the whole I know of
    no work which enables one better to enter into the spirit
    of ancient Indian thought, or which is more fascinating
    reading."--M. BARTH, _in Revue Critique, Paris_. (Translated.)

       *       *       *       *       *

    In One Volume, post 8vo, cloth, pp. xvi.-224, price 7s. 6d.

    LAYS OF ANCIENT INDIA.
    Selections from Indian Poetry rendered into English Verse.

    BY ROMESH CHUNDER DUTT, C.I.E.

    Barrister-at-Law, and of the Indian Civil Service; Member of the
    Royal Asiatic Society, and of the Asiatic Society of Bengal.

    Author of "A History of Civilisation in Ancient India," &c.

EXTRACT FROM PREFACE.

The time has come for placing before English readers a carefully
prepared book of selections from the entire range of Ancient Indian
Poetry. Such a book of selections should convey something not only of
the beauty of Indian poetry in general, but also of the distinctive
features of the poetry of each special period--something of the
freshness and simplicity of the Vedic Hymns, the sublime and lofty
thought of the Upanishads, the unsurpassed beauty of Buddhist precepts,
and the incomparable richness and imagery of the later or classical
Sanscrit poetry. And it seems to me that such a book, comprising
specimens from the literature of successive periods, is likely to give
the English reader a general bird's-eye view of Indian poetry, Indian
thought, and Indian religion.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Revised Edition. Post 8vo, pp. 276, cloth, price 7s. 6d.

    RELIGION IN CHINA.

    BY JOSEPH EDKINS, D.D., PEKING.

    Containing a Brief Account of the Three Religions of the
    Chinese, with Observations on the Prospects of Christian
    Conversion amongst that People.

"Dr. Edkins has been most careful in noting the varied and often complex
phases of opinion, so as to give an account of considerable value of the
subject."--_Scotsman._

"As a missionary, it has been part of Dr. Edkins' duty to study the
existing religions in China, and his long residence in the country has
enabled him to acquire an intimate knowledge of them as they at present
exist."--_Saturday Review._

"Dr. Edkins' valuable work, of which this is a second and revised
edition, has, from the time that it was published, been the standard
authority upon the subject of which it treats."--_Nonconformist._

"Dr. Edkins ... may now be fairly regarded as among the first
authorities on Chinese religion and language."--_British Quarterly
Review._

       *       *       *       *       *

    New and Revised Edition. Post 8vo, pp. xxiv.-420, cloth, price
    18s.

    CHINESE BUDDHISM.
    A VOLUME OF SKETCHES, HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL.

    BY J. EDKINS, D.D.
    Author of "China's Place in Philology," "Religion in China,"
    &c., &c.

"It contains a vast deal of important information on the subject,
such as is only to be gained by long-continued study on the
spot."--_Athenæum._

"Upon the whole, we know of no work comparable to it for the extent of
its original research, and the simplicity with which this complicated
system of philosophy, religion, literature, and ritual is set
forth."--_British Quarterly Review._

"The whole volume is replete with learning.... It deserves most careful
study from all interested in the history of the religions of the world,
and expressly of those who are concerned in the propagation of
Christianity. Dr. Edkins notices in terms of just condemnation the
exaggerated praise bestowed upon Buddhism by recent English
writers."--_Record._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Third Edition. Post 8vo, cloth, pp. xxiv.-268, price 9s.

    THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE UPANISHADS AND ANCIENT INDIAN METAPHYSICS.

    As exhibited in a series of Articles contributed to the
    _Calcutta Review_.

    BY ARCHIBALD EDWARD GOUGH, M.A., Lincoln College, Oxford;
    Principal of the Calcutta Madrasa.

EXTRACT FROM PREFACE.

Those interested in the general history of philosophy will find in it an
account of a very early attempt, on the part of thinkers of a rude age
and race, to form a cosmological theory. The real movement of
philosophic thought begins, it is true, not in India, but in Ionia; but
some degree of interest may still be expected to attach to the procedure
of the ancient Indian cosmologists. The Upanishads are so many 'songs
before sunrise'--spontaneous effusions of awakening reflection, half
poetical, half metaphysical--that precede the conscious and methodical
labour of the long succession of thinkers to construct a thoroughly
intelligible conception of the sum of things. For the general reader,
then, these pages may supply in detail, and in the terms of the Sanskrit
texts themselves, a treatment of the topics slightly sketched in the
third chapter of Archer Butler's first series of 'Lectures on the
History of Ancient Philosophy.' The Upanishads exhibit the prehistoric
view of things in a na[=i]vely poetical expression, and, at the same
time, in its coarsest form. Any translations will be found to include
the whole of the Mu[n.][d.]aka, Ka[t.]ha, ['S]vet[=a]['s]vatara, and
M[=a][n.][d.][=u]kya Upanishads, the greater part of the Taittir[=i]ya
and B[r.]ihad[=a]ro[n.]yaka, and portions of the Chh[=a]ndogya and Kena,
together with extracts from the works of the Indian schoolmen.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Third Edition. Post 8vo, cloth, pp. xvi.-428, price 16s.

    ESSAYS ON THE SACRED LANGUAGE, WRITINGS, AND RELIGION OF THE
    PARSIS.

    By MARTIN HAUG, Ph.D.,
    Late of the Universities of Tübingen, Göttingen, and Bonn;
    Superintendent of Sanskrit Studies, and Professor of Sanskrit
    in the Poona College.

    EDITED AND ENLARGED BY DR. E. W. WEST.

    To which is added a Biographical Memoir of the late Dr. HAUG by
    Prof. E. P. EVANS.

   I. History of the Researches into the Sacred Writings and Religion
      of the Parsis, from the Earliest Times down to the Present.
  II. Languages of the Parsi Scriptures.
 III. The Zend-Avesta, or the Scripture of the Parsis.
  IV. The Zoroastrian Religion, as to its Origin and Development.

"'Essays on the Sacred Language, Writings, and Religion of the Parsis,'
by the late Dr. Martin Haug, edited by Dr. E. W. West. The author
intended, on his return from India, to expand the materials contained in
this work into a comprehensive account of the Zoroastrian religion, but
the design was frustrated by his untimely death. We have, however, in a
concise and readable form, a history of the researches into the sacred
writings and religion of the Parsis from the earliest times down to the
present--a dissertation on the languages of the Parsi Scriptures, a
translation of the Zend-Avesta, or the Scripture of the Parsis, and a
dissertation on the Zoroastrian religion, with especial reference to its
origin and development."--_Times._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. viii. and 346, cloth, price 10s. 6d.

    MANAVA-DHARMA-CASTRA:
    THE CODE OF MANU.

    ORIGINAL SANSKRIT TEXT, WITH CRITICAL NOTES.

    BY J. JOLLY, PH.D.,
    Professor of Sanskrit in the University of Wurzburg; late Tagore
    Professor of Law in the University of Calcutta.

The date assigned by Sir William Jones to this Code--the well-known
Great Law Book of the Hindus--is 1250-500 B.C., although the rules and
precepts contained in it had probably existed as tradition for countless
ages before. There has been no reliable edition of the Text for Students
for many years past, and it is believed, therefore, that Prof. Jolly's
work will supply a want long felt.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Second Edition. Post 8vo, pp. xii.-512, cloth, price 16s.

    FOLK-TALES OF KASHMIR.

    BY THE REV. J. HINTON KNOWLES, F.R.G.S., M.R.A.S., &c.
    (C.M.S.) Missionary to the Kashmirs.

EXTRACT FROM PREFACE.

Kashmir as a field of folk-lore literature is, perhaps, not surpassed in
fertility by any other country in the world; and yet, while every year
witnesses the publication of books on the subject from Bengal, Bombay,
Madras, Porjáb, and other parts, this field, ripe for the harvest, has
remained almost ungleaned. No doubt its isolated position and the
difficulty of its language have had something to do with this apparent
neglect.

No apology will be needed for the presentation of this book to the
public. The great interest and importance attaching to the folk-tales of
any people is manifest from the great attention devoted to them by many
learned writers and others. Concerning the style and manner of the book,
however, I would ask my readers to be lenient with me. I have sought not
so much to present these tales in a purely literary form as to give them
in a fair translation, and most of the work was done by lamp-light after
an ordinary amount of missionary work during the day. However, such as
it is, I sincerely hope it will prove a real contribution towards that
increasing stock of folk-lore which is doing so much to clear away the
clouds that envelop much of the practices, ideas, and beliefs which make
up the daily life of the natives of our great dependencies, control
their feelings, and underlie many of their actions.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. ix.-281, cloth, price 10s. 6d.

    THE SARVA-DARSANA-SAMGRAHA;
    OR, REVIEW OF THE DIFFERENT SYSTEMS OF HINDU PHILOSOPHY.

    BY MADHAVA ACHARYA.

    Translated by E. B. COWELL, M.A., Professor of Sanskrit in the
    University of Cambridge, and A. E. GOUGH, M.A., Professor of
    Philosophy in the Presidency College, Calcutta.

    This work is an interesting specimen of Hindu critical ability.
    The author successively passes in review the sixteen
    philosophical systems current in the fourteenth century in the
    South of India; and he gives what appears to him to be their
    most important tenets.

"The translation is trustworthy throughout. A protracted sojourn in
India, where there is a living tradition, has familiarised the
translators with Indian thought."--_Athenæum._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Five Volumes, post 8vo, cloth, price 21s. each.

    ORIGINAL SANSKRIT TEXTS

    _On the Origin and History of the People of India: Their
    Religion and Institutions._

    Collected, Translated, and Illustrated.
    BY J. MUIR, C.I.E., D.C.L., LL.D., PH.D.

    Third Edition, Re-written, and greatly Enlarged.

Vol. I.--Mythical and Legendary Accounts of the Origin of Caste, with
an Inquiry into its Existence in the Vedic Age.

Vol. II.--Inquiry whether the Hindus are of Trans-Himalayan Origin,
and akin to the Western Branches of the Indo-European Race.

Vol. III.--The Vedas: Opinions of their Authors and of later Indian
Writers on their Origin, Inspiration, and Authority. (Out of print.)

Vol. IV.--Comparison of the Vedic with the later representations of the
principal Indian Deities.

Vol. V.--Contributions to a knowledge of the Cosmogony, Mythology,
Religious Ideas, Life, and Manners of the Indians in the Vedic Age.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. xliv.-376, cloth, price 14s.

    METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM SANSKRIT WRITERS.

    With an Introduction, many Prose Versions, and Parallel Passages
    from Classical Authors.

    BY J. MUIR, C.I.E., D.C.L., LL.D., PH.D.

"... An agreeable introduction to Hindu poetry."--_Times._

"... A volume which maybe taken as a fair illustration alike of the
religious and moral sentiments and of the legendary lore of the best
Sanskrit writers."--_Edinburgh Daily Review._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. lxv.-368, cloth, price 14s.

    TIBETAN TALES DERIVED FROM INDIAN SOURCES.

    Translated from the Tibetan of the KAH-GYUR.
    BY F. ANTON VON SCHIEFNER.

    Done into English from the German, with an Introduction,
    BY W. R. S. RALSTON, M.A.

"Mr. Ralston, whose name is so familiar to all lovers of Russian
folk-lore, has supplied some interesting Western analogies and
parallels, drawn, for the most part, from Slavonic sources, to the
Eastern folk-tales, culled from the Kahgyur, one of the divisions
of the Tibetan sacred books."--_Academy._

"The translation ... could scarcely have fallen into better hands. An
Introduction ... gives the leading facts in the lives of those scholars
who have given their attention to gaining a knowledge of the Tibetan
literature and language."--_Calcutta Review._

"Ought to interest all who care for the East, for amusing stories, or
for comparative folk-lore."--_Pall Mall Gazette._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. xvi.-224, cloth, price 9s.

    UDÂNAVARGA.

    A COLLECTION OF VERSES FROM THE BUDDHIST CANON.
    Compiled by DHARMATRÂTA.

    BEING THE NORTHERN BUDDHIST VERSION OF DHAMMAPADA.

    Translated from the Tibetan of Bkah-hgyur, with Notes, and
    Extracts from the Commentary of Pradjnavarman,

    BY W. WOODVILLE ROCKHILL.

"Mr. Rockhill's present work is the first from which assistance will be
gained for a more accurate understanding of the Pali text; it is, in
fact, as yet the only term of comparison available to us. The
'Udauavarga,' the Thibetan version, was originally discovered by the
late M. Schiefner, who published the Tibetan text, and had intended
adding a translation, an intention frustrated by his death, but which
has been carried out by Mr. Rockhill.... Mr. Rockhill may be
congratulated for having well accomplished a difficult task."--_Saturday
Review._


       *       *       *       *       *

    Fifth Edition. Post 8vo, pp. xv.-250, cloth, price 7s. 6d.

    OUTLINES OF THE HISTORY OF RELIGION TO THE SPREAD OF THE
    UNIVERSAL RELIGIONS.

    BY C. P. TIELE,

    Doctor of Theology, Professor of the History of Religions in the
    University of Leyden.

    Translated from the Dutch by J. ESTLIN CARPENTER, M.A.

"Few books of its size contain the result of so much wide thinking, able
and laborious study, or enable the reader to gain a better bird's-eye
view of the latest results of investigations into the religious history
of nations. As Professor Tiele modestly says, 'In this little book are
outlines--pencil sketches, I might say--nothing more.' But there are
some men whose sketches from a thumb-nail are of far more worth than an
enormous canvas covered with the crude painting of others, and it is
easy to see that these pages, full of information, these sentences, cut
and perhaps also dry, short and clear, condense the fruits of long and
thorough research."--_Scotsman._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Four Volumes Ready. Volume V. in the Press. Post 8vo, cloth,
    price 10s. 6d. each.

    THE SHÁHNÁMA OF FIRDAUSÍ.

    Done into English by
    ARTHUR GEORGE WARNER, M.A., AND EDMOND WARNER, B.A.

February 25th of the present year (1910) is the nine hundredth
anniversary of the completion of the Sháhnamá. Its author, the Persian
poet Firdausí, spent over thirty laborious years in its composition,
only to experience, when the task had been achieved, a heart-breaking
disappointment well worthy of inclusion in any record of the calamities
of authors. His work has survived the test of time, and by general
consent is accounted to be one of the few great epics of the world.
Geographically and in some other respects it may be said to stand
half-way between the Epics of Europe and those of India. In its own land
it has no peer, while in construction and subject-matter it is unique.
Other Epics centre round some heroic character or incident to which all
else is subservient. In the Sháhnamá there is no lack either of heroes
or of incidents, but its real hero is the ancient Persian people, and
its theme their whole surviving legendary history from the days of the
First Man to the death of the last Sháh in the middle of the seventeenth
century of our Era. It is the glory of the Persian race that they alone
among all nations possess such a record, based as it is on their own
traditions and set forth in the words of their greatest poet. In another
sense, too, the Sháhnamá is unique. The author of the other great Epics
tell us little or nothing of their own personalities or of their sources
of information. Their works are fairy palaces suspended in mid air; we
see the result, but know not how it was achieved. The author of the
Sháhnamá takes us into his confidence from the first, so that in reading
it we are let into the secret of epic-making, and can apply the
knowledge thus gained to solve the problem of the construction of its
great congeners. To the student of comparative mythology and folk-lore,
to the lover of historic romance or romantic history, and to all that
are fond of tales of high achievements and the gests of heroes, the
Sháhnamá is a storehouse of rich and abundant material. To set forth a
complete presentment of it with the needful notes and elucidations is
the object of the present translation, made from two of the best printed
texts of the original--that of Vullers and Landauer, and that of Turner
Macan.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Third Edition. Post 8vo, cloth, pp. xxiv.-360, price 10s. 6d.

    THE HISTORY OF INDIAN LITERATURE.

    BY ALBRECHT WEBER.

    Translated from the Second German Edition by JOHN MANN, M.A.,
    and THÉODOR ZACHARIAE, Ph.D., with the sanction of the Author.

Dr. BUHLER, Inspector of Schools in India, writes:--"When I was
Professor of Oriental Languages in Elphinstone College, I frequently
felt the want of such a work to which I could refer the students."

Professor COWELL, of Cambridge, writes:--"It will be especially useful
to the students in our Indian colleges and universities. I used to long
for such a book when I was teaching in Calcutta. Hindu students are
intensely interested in the history of Sanskrit literature, and this
volume will supply them with all they want on the subject."

Professor WHITNEY, Yale College, Newhaven, Conn., U.S.A., writes:--"I
was one of the class to whom the work was originally given in the form
of academic lectures. At their first appearance they were by far the
most learned and able treatment of their subject; and with their recent
additions they still maintain decidedly the same rank."

"Is perhaps the most comprehensive and lucid survey of Sanskrit
literature extant. The essays contained in the volume were originally
delivered as academic lectures, and at the time of their first
publication were acknowledged to be by far the most learned and
able treatment of the subject. They have now been brought up to
date by the addition of all the most important results of recent
research."--_Times._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Second Edition. Post 8vo, pp. xxxii. and 330, cloth, price 7s.
    6d.

    MASNAVI I MA'NAVI:

    THE SPIRITUAL COUPLETS OF MAULÁNA JALÁLU-'D-DIN MUHAMMAD I
    RU'MI.

    Translated and Abridged by E. H. WHINFIELD, M.A.,
    Late of H.M. Bengal Civil Service.

EXTRACT FROM AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

This is the book of the Masnavi. It contains the roots of the roots of
the roots of the Faith, and treats of the mysteries of "Union" and
"Certitude." Thus saith the feeble slave, in need of the mercy of God,
whose name be praised, Muhammad, son of Muhammad, son of Husain, of
Balkh, of whom may God accept it,--"I have exerted myself to enlarge
this book of poetry in rhymed couplets, which contains strange and rare
narratives, beautiful sayings and recondite indications; a path for the
devout, and a garden for the pious; short in its expressions, but having
numerous applications." The author goes on to state that he wrote his
book at the instance of Shaikh Hasan, son of Muhammad, "a Chief of the
Gnostics (_'Arif[=i]n_) and a leader of right direction and of sure
knowledge;" and concludes with a prayer that it may prove "a blessing to
those who are possessed of insight, the godly, the spiritual, and the
heavenly-minded, the men of light who keep silence and observe, who are
absent in spirit though present in the body, very kings though clothed
in rags, true nobles among the people, endued with virtues, the lights
of guidance."

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, cloth, pp. xxxii.-336, price 10s. 6d.

    THE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYÁM.

    The Persian Text with an English Verse Translation.

    BY E. H. WHINFIELD, M.A.,
    Late of the Bengal Civil Service.

EXTRACT FROM THE INTRODUCTION.

Ghiás uddin Abul Fath Omar bin Ibrahim al Khayyám was a native of
Nishapúr, one of the principal cities of Khorásan. According to the
Preface of the Calcutta MS., he died in 517 A.D., during the reign of
Sultan Sarjar. The date of his birth is nowhere mentioned, but he was
contemporary with Nizám ul Mulk, the celebrated Wazir of the Seljuk
kings, Alp Arslan and Malik Shah.

    This edition contains the Persian test of 500 quatrains based on
    a collation of eight authorities, together with English verse
    translations.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Second Edition, Revised. Post 8vo, cloth, pp. viii.-124, price
    5s.

    THE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYÁM.

    Translated into English verse,

    BY E. H. WHINFIELD, M.A.,
    Late of the Bengal Civil Service.

    This edition contains 267 of the best quatrains in the larger
    edition, carefully revised.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. vi.-368, cloth, price 14s.

    MODERN INDIA AND THE INDIANS.

    BEING A SERIES OF IMPRESSIONS, NOTES, AND ESSAYS.

    BY SIR MONIER WILLIAMS, D.C.L.,

    Hon. LL.D. of the University of Calcutta, Hon. Member of the
    Bombay Asiatic Society, Boden Professor of Sanskrit in the
    University of Oxford.

    Fifth Edition, revised and augmented by considerable Additions,
    with Illustrations and a Map.

"In this volume we have the thoughtful impressions of a thoughtful man
on some of the most important questions connected with our Indian
Empire.... An enlightened observant man, travelling among an enlightened
observant people, Professor Monier Williams has brought before the
public in a pleasant form more of the manners and customs of the Queen's
Indian subjects than we ever remember to have seen in any one work. He
not only deserves the thanks of every Englishman for this able
contribution to the study of Modern India--a subject with which we
should be specially familiar--but he deserves the thanks of every
Indian, Parsee or Hindu, Buddhist and Moslem, for his clear exposition
of their manners, their creeds, and their necessities."--_Times._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Post 8vo, pp. xii.-72, cloth, price 5s.

    THE SATAKAS OF BHARTRIHARI.

    Translated from the Sanskrit

    BY THE REV. B. HALE WORTHAM, M.R.A.S.,
    Rector of Eggesford, North Devon.

"A very interesting addition to Trübner's Oriental Series."--_Saturday
Review._

"Many of the Maxims in the book have a Biblical ring and beauty of
expression."--_St. James' Gazette._

       *       *       *       *       *




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES


1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.

2. Footnotes have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the
end of the chapter.

3. Obvious punctuation errors have been silently corrected.

4. The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version
these letters have been replaced with transliterations.

5. The words coup-d'oeil and Oedipus use an oe ligature in the original.

6. The letters with diacritical marks are enclosed within square braces.

7. Numbers of the form "9-1/2" represent fractional numbers where whole
number 9 is followed by hyphen and the fraction 1/2.

8. The following misprints have been corrected:
    "similiar" corrected to "similar" (page x)
    "savans" corrected to "savants" (page xiv)
    "Rasula" corrected to "Raoula" (page xx)
    "ntellectual" corrected to "intellectual" (Ch. I, ftn. 1)
    "siting" corrected to "sitting" (page 69)
    "amuesment" corrected to "amusement" (page 69)
    "Guadama" corrected to "Gaudama" (page 75)
    "ocurrence" corrected to "occurrence" (Ch. V, ftn. 1)
    "substantinl" corrected to "substantial" (page 81)
    "undescribable" corrected to "indescribable" (page 100)
    "Pathanadi" corrected to "Pathenadi" (page 107)
    "Ooodaka" corrected to "Oodaka" (page 113)
    "Rathans" corrected to "Rahans" (Ch. VI, ftn. 2)
    "succesively" corrected to "successively" (page 121)
    "possesssed" corrected to "possessed" (page 132)
    "drunkennness" corrected to "drunkenness" (page 136)
    "Tsadoumaritz" corrected to "Tsadoomarit" (page 139)
    "Rathan" corrected to "Rahan" (page 142)
    "Adzatatha" corrected to "Adzatathat" (Ch. VI, ftn. 13)
    "perfect on" corrected to "perfection" (Ch. VII, ftn. 3)
    "morever" corrected to "moreover" (page 157)
    "eft" corrected to "left" (page 162)
    "Buddah" corrected to "Buddha" (Ch. VIII, ftn. 9)
    "pracittioners" corrected to "practitioners" (Ch. IX, ftn. 1)
    "stockof" corrected to "stock of" (Ch. IX, ftn. 1)
    "Patzati" corrected to "Patzapati" (page 208)

9. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies
in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been
retained.