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.