II. Buddhism.
It is quite possible that to some of the readers of these pages the very name of Shintoism was unknown; whereas all will have heard and read at least something of Buddhism, one of the four most prevalent religions of the world, and claiming at the present day considerably more than four hundred millions of adherents.[6] At the same time, our inquiry into Buddhism cannot be comprised within such narrow limits as sufficed for our examination of the indigenous religion of Japan; the subject being one of the vastest dimensions. Perhaps, then, it may be better if, at the outset, I allude to some of the literature, published within the last few years, which has been most instrumental in attracting attention, both in England and America, to the subject. Nor, in this connexion, can all [pg 031] reference be omitted to the writings of the late Madame Blavatsky, Mr. Sinnett, and their school; though I refer to them only in order to caution my readers against forming from them any estimate of Buddhism. The only literature, as far as I know, that has appeared in England from what claims to be an enthusiastic Buddhist stand-point, these writings are, I believe, calculated to convey a curiously erroneous idea of the great system with which we are now concerned, to any who would turn for information to them exclusively. This, indeed, becomes obvious when it is understood that the Buddhism, of which these books profess to treat, is not the Buddhism of history and the sacred books, not the Buddhism which forms the popular religion of hundreds of millions of Asiatics at the present day, but an “esoteric” Buddhism, a knowledge of which, it is admitted, is confined to a comparative few, even in the country where it is said to be most prevalent.[7] In short, the “esoteric Buddhism” of Mr. Sinnett and his friends would seem to be scarcely, if at all, distinguishable from the movement which has recently acquired a brief notoriety in England under the name of Theosophy; and with this, Buddhism proper—i.e. the historical, popular Buddhism with which we have to do—can hardly be said to have anything in common.
With the book, however, which probably more than any other work of the day has been the means of drawing the attention of English-speaking people to Buddhism, we cannot deal in so summary a fashion. For in Sir Edwin Arnold's poem, The Light of Asia, we have a work which is simply a rendering of the life of Buddha, in general accordance with the received traditions, and one, moreover, which has met with a cordial welcome at the hands of Buddhists. Nor can it be questioned that the book is a production of great power, or that it appeals altogether to a very different class of readers from that likely to be influenced by the Occult World, or Isis Unveiled.
It is indeed, the great beauty of its poetry, and the book's consequent popularity, that only make the more necessary a reference which must to some extent take the form of a protest. To put it briefly, the case is this:—Men and women have risen from a perusal of the Light of Asia with a sense of damage done to their Christian faith, and with a feeling—confused, perhaps, but not the less real—that in Gautama Buddha they have been confronted with a formidable rival to Jesus Christ. How far the poem is responsible for this result we will not attempt to determine; and that such was no part of the author's intention we may readily believe. But that the minds of not a few have been perplexed and disturbed by the reading of this book is a certain [pg 033] fact; making it neither surprising nor regrettable that its publication should have been followed by works on the subject, written from an emphatically Christian point of view. To the fullest and ablest of these,—the Rev. S. H. Kellogg's The Light of Asia and the Light of the World: a Comparison of the Legend, the Doctrine and the Ethics of the Buddha, with the Story, the Doctrine and the Ethics of Christ (Macmillan, 1885),—I would refer those desirous of investigating fully the points at issue; contenting myself now with a few brief observations.
It is, then, important to bear in mind that Sir E. Arnold's poem is written in the person, and from the stand-point of an imaginary Buddhist. This is indicated plainly on the title-page, in the preface, and in the course of the poem itself; and when the book comes to be read by the light of this explanation, a limitation is cast about much of its more startling language. To take, for instance, such expressions as “Our Lord,” “Saviour,” “come to save the world,” constantly assigned to Buddha in the course of the poem. However accustomed Christians may be to associate such terms with One only, and however pained they may feel at their being referred, under any circumstances and with any restrictions, to another, still it is obvious that their use becomes less open to objection, when placed in the mouth of a disciple, singing the praise of his Master,—and that Master, one who, [pg 034] it can hardly be disputed, wrought no mean work of deliverance on the earth. Far less admitting of satisfactory explanation are passages in the book in which we find transferred to Buddha and Buddhism ideas and language distinctively Christian; the solemn saying of Simeon to the Holy Mother, “A sword shall pierce through thine own soul also,” and the still more solemn, “It is finished” of the Cross, being made to supply particularly distressing instances of such treatment.[8]
Or once again: but what I would say now has already been urged by Dr. Eitel, in words which I cannot do better than quote. “I believe,” he says, “it would be unjust to pick out any of those queer and childish sayings with which the Buddhist Scriptures and especially popular Buddhist books abound, and to lead people to imagine that Buddhism is little better than a string of nonsense. It is even doubtful whether the earliest Buddhist texts contained such statements at all; for, unlike our Bible, the Buddhist canon has undergone wholesale textual alterations.... As to the popular literature of Buddhism, and its absurdities, we might as well collect those little pamphlets on dreams, on sorcery, on lucky and unlucky days, on the lives and miracles of saints, which circulate among Roman Catholic peasants,—but would that [pg 035] give us a true picture of Roman Catholicism? Thus it is with Buddhism.”[9] In other words, Dr. Eitel would urge that in order to deal fairly with such a subject, we must try to distinguish the essence of the thing itself from the abuses and follies that may, from time to time, have gathered round it; and this, it is to be feared, has not always been done by English writers, in treating of Buddhism.
For the sake of clearness, we may next proceed to trace a brief outline of the life of Buddha, according to the belief of Buddhists generally, and stripped of such legends and superstitions as find no credence with the more educated and intellectual. It is true that a doubt has sometimes been expressed as to the existence of Gautama Buddha at all; while even so eminent an authority as Mr. Spence Hardy declares his conviction that, owing to the lack of really authentic information, “it is impossible to rely implicitly on any single statement made in relation to him.”[10] But even supposing the Buddha of the commonly-received traditions to be, whether in part or in entirety, a mere creation of Indian thought, the case undergoes no vital alteration; seeing that it is with the religion of Buddhism that we are mainly concerned, and only in quite a subordinate degree with the [pg 036] person of its supposed founder. The point is one that deserves careful attention, suggesting as it does at once the essential difference between Buddhism and Christianity, and the immeasurable distance which divides the two. For of Christianity it is no exaggeration to say that upon the truth of the received accounts of its Founder's Life and Person its whole position absolutely depends; whereas, could it be proved that Gautama never even lived, the system associated with his name would suffer no material loss,—and this, because in Buddha we are invited to contemplate only a teacher and a guide, one who would have men seek purification and deliverance by the same means as he himself needed to employ, and one who never claimed to be more than human. Most persons, however, will prefer to accept as, in the main, historically correct the commonly accepted outline of the life of Buddha which may thus be given—
The reputed founder of Buddhism was one Siddhartha, known in later life as Gautama, and later still, by the title of Buddha, or the “Enlightened One.” Siddhartha was a prince of the Sakya tribe, whose territories were situated some hundred miles north-east of the city of Benares. Hence he is often spoken of under the name of Sakya-muni, or the “Sakya sage.” As regards his date, widely different opinions are held; sometimes [pg 037] it is placed as early as the tenth, and sometimes as late as the third century b.c. The most competent authorities, however, agree in following the Buddhists of Ceylon, and take 543 b.c. as the date of his death.[11] His father's name was Suddhodana; his mother was called Maia. Of the earlier years of Siddhartha's life we have little information that is at all to be relied on; but his early manhood appears to have been spent amid the luxury and self-indulgence customary with Oriental princes. Gautama, however, was a man of great benevolence, and we are told that, while still quite young, he pondered deeply on the mystery of the pain and suffering which held the human race in bondage. Presently, becoming dissatisfied with his own life of ease and pleasure, he made the “Great Renunciation;” turning his back, at the age of thirty, on wife and parents, home and wealth. After spending some years in travel, he retired to the forest, where he attached himself to a little band of ascetics, and practised severe forms of discipline and self-mortification; hoping thus to discover the secret of release from suffering. But meeting with no success, and still fast bound by the trammels of ignorance, he betook himself to contemplation; until one day, as he was seated beneath the Bo-tree,—henceforth [pg 038] to be accounted sacred[12]—the struggles of his soul prevailed, and he passed out of darkness into light. He was now Buddha, He who Knew, the Enlightened. The four truths to the knowledge of which Gautama thus attained, and which form the very foundation of the Buddhist doctrine, are these—(i) That man is born to suffering, both mental and physical: he experiences it himself, he inflicts it upon others; (ii) that this suffering is occasioned by desire; (iii) that the condition of suffering in which man finds himself admits of amelioration and relief; (iv) the way of release, and the attainment to Nirvana.
Here we must pause to make the inquiry, What is meant by Nirvana,—the goal of the Buddhist's hope and aim? Literally, the word means “extinction”; and hence it has often come to be regarded as a mere synonym for annihilation. The variety of opinions held by European scholars as to its meaning is, there is little doubt, due to the fact that Buddhists themselves are by no means agreed as to its precise significance. Is Nirvana a state of consciousness or unconsciousness? Is the personality perpetuated, or is the ego absorbed,—i.e. into Buddha? Such questions are differently answered by the different schools. Concerning the nature of Nirvana, Buddha himself, in his [pg 039] agnosticism, would seem to have been almost wholly silent. He appears to have simply taught that by the suppression and “extinction” of the natural passions and desires—anger, avarice, sorrow, and the like[13]—it was possible even here to enter upon a state of tranquillity, rest, and peace, which should attain hereafter to more perfect fulfilment. Of the various meanings attached to Nirvana by the different Buddhist sects, one extreme makes it scarcely distinguishable from complete annihilation, while the opposite extreme introduces us to the doctrine of the Paradise of the West, the Pure Land presided over by Amitabha Buddha, the abode of perfect happiness and delight. This remarkable development of Buddhism will claim our attention later.[14]
Daibatsu At Kamakura.
To return. After his enlightenment, it is said that Gautama was seized by the temptation to enter at once into Nirvana, without proclaiming his doctrine to the world. But putting the temptation from him, he began his ministry by announcing the tidings of release to the companions of his ascetic life, who, after scoffing for awhile, were at length convinced. In the course of this, his first sermon, Buddha proceeded to enunciate the eight steps on the path which leads to Nirvana—(i) Right faith, (ii) right resolution, (iii) right speech, (iv) right action, (v) right living, (vi) right effort, (vii) right thought, (viii) right self-concentration. As time went on, Gautama began to gather round him a number of disciples, who became his constant companions. Part of each year he spent in rest and retirement; teaching and training his disciples, and receiving such as, attracted by his growing reputation, sought him out. The remaining months he occupied in travelling from place to place, proclaiming the good news of deliverance in the towns and villages through which he passed. Soon we find him establishing a Society or Brotherhood; the members of which severed their connexion with all worldly things, handed over their property to the Order, adopted the tonsure and a distinctive dress, and, following the Master's doctrine with strictness themselves, devoted their lives to its propagation. Any member, however, was at [pg 041] liberty to leave the Brotherhood, should he wish to do so. It is noticeable that Buddha's earliest followers were chiefly drawn—not, as in the case of a Greater than he, from the ranks of the poor and simple—but from the upper classes. Indeed, Gautama seems to have regarded the weak and ignorant as incapable of receiving his teaching. Children are hardly mentioned in the early Buddhist writings; and with regard to women, it was only with great reluctance that Sakya-muni eventually consented to the formation of a Sisterhood, the members of which were, as far as possible, to observe the same rules as the men—together with several additional ones, chiefly concerned with their subjection to the Brethren. In the same way, it is still the teaching of Buddhism that it should be a woman's highest aspiration to be reborn as a man, in a future state of existence. When, however, the two Orders—for men and for women—had been formed, there still remained a large number of either sex, who, without leaving their places in the world, were desirous of being reckoned among Buddha's followers. These were admitted as lay-adherents, one of their chief obligations being to contribute to the maintenance of the Brethren.
Having exercised his public ministry for forty years—without, as would appear, encountering any great opposition—and having committed his work to the Brotherhood, to carry on after his decease, [pg 042] Buddha died, aged about eighty, and was buried with great pomp. It is recorded that, as the time of his departure drew nigh, he replied to his disciples' expressions of apprehension and sorrow, by saying that when he should no longer be with them in person, he would still be present with them in his sayings, in his doctrine. Another point on which he laid great stress before his death was that the Brotherhood should regularly assemble in convocation. Hence it came about that from very early times, the declaration, “I seek refuge in Buddha, Dharma (the Law), Samgha (the Brotherhood),” was adopted as the formula which any one, desirous of becoming a Buddhist, was required to profess. And it is the Trinity thus formed, which, represented to-day by the three great images above the altar of many a Buddhist temple, has its multitude of ignorant worshippers, who doubt not that three several divinities are the objects of their adoration and their prayer.
Such, then, as would appear, was the origin of Buddhism. Strictly speaking, and apart from its later developments, Buddhism is a religion which knows no God, which attaches no value to prayer, which has no place for a priesthood. Nowhere, perhaps, is its agnosticism more conspicuous than in the five main prohibitions, which are addressed alike to clergy and laity. The first of these forbids the taking of life,—human life chiefly, [pg 043] but other life as well; the second is against theft, whether by force or fraud; the third is against falsehood; the fourth forbids impurity, in act, word, or thought; the fifth requires abstinence from all intoxicants. The whole idea of GOD, it will be noticed, is entirely absent from the Buddhist Commandments. Infinitely removed above that other agnosticism, which cries, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die,” Buddhism starts with the idea of the entire abnegation of self. But a self-denial that is undertaken, not for God, and in God for man, but merely to secure one's own peace and well-being—what is this but selfishness after all? Enjoining a rule of life that is essentially negative—the natural product of that blank despair of the world and of human nature which led to the Great Renunciation—Buddhism, as a religious system, has yielded but scanty fruits of positive holiness, of active benevolence. And yet,—wholly inadequate as such a system as this, even at its purest and best, must be to meet the needs of humanity,—false and even debased as are sometimes its teachings,—the one great message that Buddhism proclaims is a message of undeniable, if most imperfect, truth: the truth that would have man cultivate self-reliance, and attain to self-deliverance by means of self-control. “Work out your own salvation” is the injunction of Christianity. “By one's self,” taught Sakya-muni, “the evil is [pg 044] one; by one's self must come remedy and release.” So far the two systems are at one; the difference between them lies in the fact that the one places in our hands those supernatural weapons which alone make real victory possible, and that these the other knows not how to supply.
Hitherto, we have made no reference to the relation of Buddhism to Brahmanism. And yet we can no more hope to understand the work of Sakya-muni, without observing its connexion with Brahmanism, than we could afford to omit all mention of the Jewish Law and of Jewish Pharisaism, in speaking of the liberation wrought by our Lord Jesus Christ. The work and doctrine of Gautama Buddha,—with their mean between an ascetic severity, on the one hand, and a licentious self-indulgence on the other—their disregard of caste distinctions—their rejection of burdensome and profitless traditions—may be said to bear to the heavy yoke of Brahmanism a relation not dissimilar to that which freedom has to bondage. Laying hold of that which was ready to his hand, if so be he might mould and purify it, Buddha was a liberator and reformer in respect to what had gone before. Let us take, for example, the doctrine of metempsychosis, or, as it is commonly called, the “transmigration of souls.” No doubt, there is a great deal connected with this doctrine in the Buddhist books that cannot but appear to us [pg 045] puerile and shocking; but still, we do not well, we do not justly, if, as do so many, we fasten such strange fancies on Buddha, or on Buddhism, as though it were from these that they sprang. So far from Sakya-muni being the originator of the theory of transmigration, a belief in it had, for centuries previously, been almost universal throughout the East; and his doctrine of Nirvana supplied an antidote to the belief in a practically interminable series of metempsychoses current at the time. With the theory of transmigration accepted on all sides, Buddha seems to have made use of it to the extent that he did, as affording a convenient solution of the difficulty presented by the unequal distribution of happiness in this life, and the absence of any satisfactory exercise of justice in the way of reward or punishment.
That the doctrine of metempsychosis should have been applied by Buddhists to their great Master himself, is only what we should expect to find. Gautama is accredited by Buddhists with some five hundred previous existences, in the course of which he passed through numerous stages of vegetable, animal and human life, until at length he attained to the highest degree of manhood. Throughout the changing circumstances of his being, he is said to have exhibited a transcendent and ever-increasing unselfishness and charity, which culminated in his freely giving himself to [pg 046] be re-born as Buddha for the world's deliverance. And it is this belief, probably, which has been the most potent factor in exalting the Philosopher and the Guide to a height, which is scarcely, if at all, distinguishable from the Throne of God.
I may conclude this chapter by quoting a passage from the late Dean Stanley's History of the Jewish Church, where he is referring to Gautama Buddha: “It is difficult for those who believe the permanent elements of the Jewish and Christian religion to be universal and Divine not to hail these corresponding forms of truth and goodness elsewhere, or to recognize that the mere appearance of such saint-like and god-like characters in other parts of the earth, if not directly preparing the way for a greater manifestation, illustrates that manifestation by showing how mighty has been the witness borne to it even under circumstances of such discouragement, and even with effects inadequate to their grandeur.”[15]