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 Œdipus. 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]