FOOTNOTES
[1] The philosophical discourse of Buddha on the mountain may be considered as the summary of his theory of morals. It is confessedly very obscure and much above the ordinary level of the human understanding. The hearers whom he addressed were persons already trained up to his teaching, and therefore prepared for understanding such doctrines. Had he spoken in that abstruse style to common people, it is certain he would have missed his aim and exposed himself to the chance of not being understood. But he addressed a select audience, whose minds were fully capable of comprehending his most elevated doctrines. He calls his disciples Bickus, or mendicants, to remind them of the state of voluntary poverty they had embraced when they became his followers, and to impress their minds with contempt for the riches and pleasures of this world.
He lays it down as a great and general principle that all that exists resembles a flame that dazzles the eyes by its brilliancy and torments by its burning effects. Here appears the favourite notion of Buddhism that there is nothing substantial and real in this world, and that the continual changes and vicissitudes we are exposed to are the cause of painful sensations. Buddha reviews the six senses (the heart, according to his theory, is the seat of a sixth sense) in succession, and as they are the channels through which affections are produced on the soul, he compares to a burning flame the organs of the senses, the various objects of the action of the senses, the results painful or agreeable produced by them. Hence he fulminates a general and sweeping condemnation against all that exists out of man. The senses, being the means through which matter influences the soul, share in the universal doom. Buddha sets forth the causes productive of that burning flame. They are—first, the three great and general principles of demerits, viz., concupiscence, anger, and ignorance. In the book of Ethics these three principles are explained at great length; they are represented as the springs from which flow all other passions. In a lengthened digression the author aims at simplifying the question, and endeavours to show, by a logical process, that ignorance is the head source from which concupiscence and passion take their rise. It is, therefore, according to Buddhists, into the dark recess of ignorance that metaphysicians must penetrate in order to discover the first cause of all moral disorders. Every being has his mind more or less encompassed by a thick mist that prevents him from seeing truth. He mistakes good for evil, right for wrong; he erroneously clings to material objects that have no reality, no substance, no consistence; his passions are kept alive by his love or hatred of vain illusions. The flame is, moreover, fed by birth, old age, death, afflictions, &c., which are as many foci wherefrom radiate out on all surrounding objects fires which keep up the general conflagration. But they play only a secondary action, dependent on the three great causes of all evils just alluded to. What causes birth, old age, and death? inquires the Buddhist. The law of merits and demerits is the immediate answer to the question; it might be added thereto, the necessity of acquiring merits and gravitating towards perfection. A man is born to innumerable succeeding existences by virtue of his imperfections, and that he might acquire fresh merits by the practice of virtue. By birth, a being is ushered into a new existence or into a new state, where the burning flame which is supposed to spread over all that exists exercises its teasing and tormenting influence over him. Old age and death are two periods when a radical change operates upon a being, and places him in a different situation where he experiences the baneful effects of the conflagration. "Blessed are they," says Buddha, "who understand this; they are full of wisdom; they become displeased with all passions and with all the things they act upon. The causes of existences being done away with, they have reached the terminus of all possible existences; one step more and they find themselves placed beyond the influence of the power of attraction that retains forcibly all beings in the vortex of existences, and brings them towards the centre of perfection; they are in fact entering into the state of Neibban."
[2] From the purport of Kathaba's reply to Buddha's question, it may be inferred with certainty that the Rathees were in the habit of making sacrifices or burnt-offerings. These sacrifices again were distinguished into two classes; the one, including the small or daily ones, and the other, the great burnt-offerings, made on solemn occasions. That these sacrifices were not performed by the killing and immolating of animals, there can be no doubt, as such an act would have been contrary to the tender regard they always had for the life of animals. The institutes of Menu come to our help to elucidate this point. The Brahmin is enjoined, according to that compilation of laws, to make burnt-offerings of clarified butter and other articles to the manes of his ancestors. Agreeably to this regulation, Kathaba performed those rites, which, in the opinion of Buddha, were perfectly useless, since they could not be the means of elevating the performer to the knowledge and perfection requisite for obtaining what he always calls per excellence the deliverance.
Kathaba is rather obscure in his answer. It seems that he intended to acknowledge that, notwithstanding the sacrifices and burnt-offerings he had made, and upon the value of which he had laid much stress, concupiscence and other vicious propensities were still deeply rooted in him; that, through the channel of his senses, exterior objects continued to make impressions on his soul. He had, therefore, become disgusted with practices which could not free him from the action and influence of passions and matter.
In the opinion of Buddha, the observance of exterior religious rites can never elevate man to the sublime knowledge of pure truth, which alone does confer real perfection to him who has become a true sage, and is deemed worthy of obtaining the deliverance. A serious application of the mind to the meditation of the law and the nature of beings, is the only way leading to the acquirement of true wisdom. As long as Kathaba was contented with material acts of worship, and his mind's attention was engrossed with those vain ceremonials, he had not as yet entered in the way of perfection. He had hitherto missed the true path; he had wandered in the broad road of error, encompassed by mental darkness, and deceived by perpetual illusions. His extensive knowledge had served but to lead him in the wrong direction. He wanted the guidance of Buddha to enable him to retrace his steps and find the right way. He had to become sensible of the truth of the great fundamental maxims of all real wisdom, viz., that in this world all is subjected to change and to pain; and that all beings are mere illusions, destitute of all reality.
[3] To complete what has already been stated respecting the Ariahs or venerables in a foregoing note, the following is added. The reader must bear in mind that the Ariahs are divided into four classes, named—Thautapan, Thakadagam, Anagam, and Arahats, and according to the particular position occupied by the beings of those states, each class is subdivided into two: Thus, for instance, Thautapatti Megata means he who has entered and is walking, as it were, in the way of the perfection of Thautapan; and Thautapatti-pho indicates those who enjoy the merits and blessings of the state of Thautapan; and so with the three superior stages of perfection. To obtain the state of Thautapan, a man must have left the direction followed up by all creatures and entered into the direction or way that leads to deliverance. He will have yet to go through 80,000 kaps or durations of worlds, and must be born seven times more in the state of man and Nat before he be a perfected being, ripe for the state of Neibban. Those who have reached the state of Thakadagam shall have to pass through 60,000 kaps, and be born once in the state of Nat and once in the state of man, before they be perfected. Those who have obtained the third step of Anagam have to travel through 40,000 kaps, and are no more to undergo the process of birth at the end of that period they are perfected. The fourth stage of perfection, that of Arahat, is the highest a being can ever obtain. The fortunate Arahat is gifted with supernatural powers. At the end of 20,000 kaps he is perfected, and reaches the state of deliverance. Those four states are often called the four great roads leading to deliverance or to Neibban. It may be asked whether the state of Thautapan is the first step reached by every one that adheres to Buddha's doctrines or whether it is the one that requires a certain progress in the way of believing and practising? It seems, from the narrative of the conversion of King Pimpathara and his followers, that the state of Thautapan is the reward of those who have shown a more than common proficiency and fervour in adhering to Buddha and his doctrines, but not the first step to enter into the assembly of the faithful and become a member thereof. One may be a simple hearer, or Upathaka, believing in the three precious things, without attaining that of Thautapan. On this occasion, the king and 100,000 of his warriors and noblemen became Thautapans, whereas the remaining 10,000 became believers and members of the assembly without reaching any further. The first entered into the stream or current leading to perfection. The latter were fervent believers, observed the five precepts, but in no way aspired to the attainment of the doctrines of a higher order.
[4] Is not that young man doing the duty of forerunner of Buddha on the occasion of his solemn entry into the city of Radzagio?
The narrative of the donation of the grove or garden of Weloowon by King Pimpathara to Buddha, discloses the manner in which Buddhistic monks have become holders, not as individuals, but as members of society, of landed properties. Buddha and his disciples at first had no place as a body or a society to live in; hitherto he had taken up his quarters in any place where people were willing to receive him. He must have often been put to great inconvenience, particularly after the accession of new disciples, who daily crowded about him. The pious king felt the disadvantage the society was labouring under: he resolved to give them a place where the assembly might live and remain. The donation was as solemn as possible. It transferred to Buddha the property of the garden, without any condition, for ever. The donation, on the other hand, was fully accepted. This is, I believe, the first instance of an act of this description. The grove and monastery of Weloowon is much celebrated in Buddha's life.
In Burmese towns a particular spot is allowed for the building of houses or monasteries for Buddhistic recluses or monks. It is somewhat isolated from all other buildings, and forms, as it were, the quarter of the yellow-dressed personages. Here is a general description of one of these buildings. They are of an oblong-square shape, raised about eight or ten feet above the ground, and supported on wooden posts, and sometimes, though seldom, on brick pillars. The frame of the edifice is of wood, and planks form the wall. Above the first roof rises a second one of smaller dimensions, and a third one, yet smaller than the second. This style of roofing a building is allowed only for pagodas, Talapoins' houses, and royal palaces. The place between the soil and the floor is left open and never converted to any use. A flight of steps, made of wood or bricks, leads to the entrance of the edifice, the interior whereof is generally divided as follows:—One vast hall designed for the reception of visitors, and used also as a schoolroom for the boys who go to learn the rudiments of reading, writing, and sometimes ciphering. Except on grand occasions, the Talapoins generally stay in that hall, doing away with their time in the best way they can, occasionally reading books, counting their beads, chewing betel, and very often sleeping. At the extremity of the hall there is a place raised one or two steps above the level. A portion of that place is left vacant, and reserved for the sittings of the Talapoins, when they receive visitors; the other portion, which extends to the wall, is occupied by idols or representations of Buddha, raised on pedestals, and sometimes placed on shelves, with the few implements required for exterior worship. There, too, are to be seen a few trunks ornamented with sculptures and gildings, and containing books belonging to the monastery. The hall and the place as far as the walls occupy just one-half of the oblong-square. The other half, parallel to the first, is occupied by rooms intended for the storing of alms, and as dormitories for the inmates of the house. In some, monasteries the ceiling is painted and partly gilt. The cook-room, when there is one, is connected with the extremity of the square opposite to the one occupied by the idols. It is generally on the same level with the floor of the building. Government has nothing to do with the erection, repairs, and maintenance of these edifices. They are erected and kept up by private individuals, who deem it very meritorious to build such places. Those whose piety actuates and prompts them to undertake such an expensive work assume the title of Kiaong Taga, which means supporter of a pagoda or Talapoins' residence. They are proud of such distinction, cause themselves to be called by that title, and always make it to follow their names in signing any paper or document.
The above descriptive sketch of a monastery is rather incomplete, if applied to those found in the large places of Burmah proper, and particularly in the capital. Some of them are laid out on a scale of vastness and magnificence difficult to realise by those who have not examined them. A large open gallery runs all round the building; a second one of a rectangular shape, but protected by the roof, forms, as it were, on the four sides the vestibulum to the central portion of the edifice. It is the place where the Phongies spend the greater part of their time, either in talking with the numerous idlers that visit them, or in teaching children. Large shutters separate this from the open verandah; they may be thrown all open by pushing forward the lower part, the upper one remaining fixed by hinges, and so may be opened to the height required to protect the inmates from the rain and the sun. The central hall, by far the finest and loftiest of the building, is reserved for the idols and all the implements of worship, and the boxes containing the books of the monastery, commonly put together in a very disordered way. The ceiling is gilt and adorned, often with taste and elegance. A partition divides the hall into two equal parts. The one towards the east is for some huge statue of Gaudama, and smaller ones with many articles of worship. The other, facing the south, is used for several purposes; sometimes as dormitories for the Talapoins. The posts supporting the interior part are six or eight in number, and offer the finest specimens of teak timber I have ever seen, some being fully sixty and seventy feet high. In some of these monasteries the best parts of the interior are gilt, and sometimes the exterior sides; the ornaments of the extremities of the roof and the space between the roofs are covered with gold leaves. In those two places too are displayed carvings, which reflect great credit on the skill of native workmen, and elicit the admiration of foreigners. One of these monasteries called the kioung-dau-gye, near the place where the Arracan idol is, and another close to the place where the supreme head of Talapoins is living, are the finest and largest specimens of monasteries the writer has ever seen in Burmah.
[5] On the occasion of the presentation to Buddha of the Weloowon monastery, and of the lands attached to it, by King Pimpathara, there was observed a curious ceremony, often alluded to in Buddhist writings. He held in his hands a golden pitcher full of water, which he kept pouring down on the ground, whilst he pronounced the formula of donation. This is a ceremony of Indian origin, which, with many others, has been imported into these parts along with the religious doctrines. It is intended to be an exterior sign of, or testimony to, the offering that is made on the occasion. When it is performed, the parties pronounce a certain formula, calling the Nats, guardians of the place, to witness the act of donation, and, in particular, the Nat that is supposed to rule over the earth; and at the same time the offerer, not satisfied with receiving for his own benefit the merits of his pious liberality, expresses the earnest desire that all men, or rather all beings, should share with him in the blessings he expects to reap from his good deed. The generous and liberal disposition of the donor, it may be observed, exhibits the truly pleasing display of an amount of charity and brotherly love scarcely to be expected from the followers of an erroneous creed. The ceremony, therefore, has a twofold object, conferring unreserved and absolute efficiency on the act of donation, and dividing or apportioning the merits of the good work among all beings.
In perusing attentively the contents of this legend, the reader will easily follow the gradual development of the Buddhist religious system, and, in particular, the establishment of most of the disciplinary regulations in full force in our own days in most of the countries where that form of religion has obtained a long standing and a predominating footing. At first the religious that constituted the body of the followers of Buddha were few, and could easily, in the company of their eminent teacher, procure, in accordance with the vow of strict poverty they had made, shelter, food, and raiment. There was no need for them to accept, in the shape of donation, anything beyond what was absolutely necessary for the wants of the day. We may conjecture that their leader watched with a jealous care over his religious on this point, to establish them in the spirit of poverty and of a thorough contempt for the things of this world. But the society or fraternity growing numerous, the dependence on the daily offerings appeared not to meet in sufficient manner the real necessities it felt, particularly as regards shelter. This want was quickly perceived and keenly felt by the pious King Pimpathara, who came to the resolution of presenting Buddha and his followers with a proper place to withdraw to at all times, but particularly during the wet season, when the pouring of the annual rains puts a check of four months to the religious peregrinations of the preachers. The same motives that induced Buddha to accept the proffered royal gift influenced him likewise to grant to his religious the dangerous, it is true, but the absolutely necessary permission of receiving offerings of houses and lands. From that time, the religious communities have made use of the privilege granted to them in all the places where they have been established. In Burmah this favour has not been abused, and the religious body, though never standing in want of anything required for the daily use, cannot be said to be wealthy. Having not to cast in the scales of the political balance the weight of riches, and the preponderance essentially attending the possession of them, their influence in the political affairs is not, at least exteriorly, felt.
[6] In his Archaeological Survey Report, General Cunningham has supplied us with an accurate description of the position and ruins of the celebrated city of Radzagio. His own measurements of the old ramparts, that are still visible, agree to a surprising degree with those of the two Chinese pilgrims, Fa-Hian and Hwen-Tsan, who visited the same spot in the fourth and sixth century of our era. The city was situated in a valley, surrounded by five hills, which are named Gigakuta, Isigli, Wibhara, Wipula, and Pandawa. It was five miles in circumference. This is meant for the circuit of the inner wall. The exterior one was nearly nine miles. On the southern face of the Wibhara mountain is the famous cave at the entrance of which was held the first Buddhist council, not long after the cremation of Buddha's remains. There is no doubt that the heights were, in the palmy days of Buddhism, covered with Buddhistic monuments. As the place was subsequently occupied by Brahmins and Mussulmans, the Dzedis and monasteries have been mercilessly pulled down to furnish materials for musjids, tombs, and temples. The eminences are now covered with Mussulman tombs, which occupy the places formerly adorned with pagodas. Springs of hot water were numerous in the vicinity of the city. The writer has only met once in Buddhistic compositions an allusion to that natural phenomenon so beneficial to people living in hot climates. The modern Rajghir, both by name and situation, brings to our recollection the celebrated capital of Magatha, so famous in Buddhistic annals. As the extent of Radzagio has been so accurately determined by ancient and modern visitors, one can well afford to laugh at the immensely exaggerated number of houses that are supposed by certain Burmese writers to have composed the city.
CHAPTER VIII.
Thoodaudana, desirous to see his son, sends messengers to him—They become converts—Kaludari, a last messenger, prevails on Buddha to go to Kapilawot—His reception—Conversion of the king and of Yathaudara—Nanda and Raoula put on the religious habit—Conversion of Ananda and of several of his relatives—Temptation of Ananda—Conversion of Eggidatta—Story of Tsampooka.
Whilst the most excellent Phra remained in the Weloowon monastery, enjoying himself in the midst of his disciples and the crowds of hearers that daily resorted thither to listen to his preachings, his father Thoodaudana[1] who had ever been anxiously and sedulously gathering every possible information respecting his son, from the time he withdrew into solitude, and performed during six years the hardest works of bodily mortification, was then informed that his son had already begun to preach the most perfect law, and was actually staying in the city of Radzagio. He felt then an irresistible desire to see him once more before his death. He therefore ordered a nobleman of his court into his presence, and said to him: "Nobleman, take with you a retinue of a thousand followers, and go forthwith to the city of Radzagio. Tell my son that I am now much advanced in years, that I long to see him once more before I die; desire him, therefore, to come over with you to the country of Kapilawot." The nobleman, having received the royal message, took leave from the king, and attended by a thousand followers, set out for Radzagio. When he drew near to the Weloowon monastery, he found it crowded with an innumerable multitude of people, listening with a respectful attention to Buddha's instructions. Unwilling to disturb the audience, the nobleman delayed for a while the delivery of his royal master's message. Halting at the verge of the crowd, he, with his followers, eagerly lent the utmost attention to all that Buddha was saying. They at once obtained the state of Arahat, and applied for admission into the order of Rahans. The favour was granted. To obtain pattas and tsiwarans for so great a number of applicants, Buddha stretched his right arm, when there appeared at once the pattas and dresses required. The new converts put on the dress of their order, when they all appeared with the dignified countenance and meek deportment of Rahans who had had sixty years of profession. Having arrived at the exalted state of Ariahs, they became indifferent and unconcerned about all the things of this material world, and the king's mandate was entirely lost sight of.
The sovereign of Kapilawot, seeing that his nobleman did not return from the country of Magatha,[2] and that no news was heard of him, despatched a second messenger with an equal number of followers on the same errand. They all were taken up with Buddha's preachings and became Rahandas. The same thing happened to seven messengers successively sent to Radzagio for the same purpose. They, with their respective retinues, became converts of the first class.
Disappointed at seeing that none of the messengers had returned to bring him any news regarding his son, King Thoodaudana exclaimed: "Is there no one in my palace that bears any affection unto me? Shall I not be able to get a person who could procure for me some information respecting my son?" He looked among his courtiers and selected one, named Kaludari, as the fittest person for such a difficult errand. Kaludari had been born on the same day as Buddha: with him he had spent the age of his infancy, and lived on terms of the most sincere friendship. The king said to him: "Noble Kaludari, you know how earnestly I long to see my son. Nine messengers have already been sent to the city of Radzagio to invite my son to come over to me, and none of them has as yet come back to me, to bring information respecting the object of my tenderest affections. I am old now, and the end of my existence is quite uncertain; could you not undertake to bring my son over to me? Whether you become Rahan or not, let me have the happiness of contemplating once more my beloved son ere I leave this world." The nobleman promised to the king to comply with his royal order. Attended by a retinue of a thousand followers, he set out for the city of Radzagio. Having reached the Weloowon monastery, he listened to Buddha's preachings, and, like the former messengers, he became at once a Rahanda with all his followers.
Gaudama, having obtained the Buddhaship, spent the first season (Lent) in the solitude of Migadawon. Thence he proceeded to the solitude of Ooroowela, where he remained three months, until he had completed the work of converting the three Kathabas. It was on the full moon of Piatho (January) that he entered into the city of Radzagio, accompanied by his thousand disciples. He had just stayed two months in that place, so that there were five months since he had left the country of Baranathee.
Seven days after Kaludari's arrival, the cold season being nearly over, the new convert addressed Buddha as follows: "Illustrious Phra, the cold season is over, and the warm season has just begun; this is now the proper time to travel through the country; nature wears a green aspect; the trees of the forests are in full blossom; the roads are lined to right and left with trees loaded with fragrant blossoms and delicious fruits; the peacock proudly expands its magnificent tail; birds of every description fill the air with their ravishing and melodious singing. At this season heat and cold are equally temperate, and nature is scattering profusely its choicest gifts." By such and similar allurements Kaludari endeavoured to dispose Buddha to undertake a journey to Kapilawot. Gaudama hearing all these words said: "What means this? To what purpose are uttered so many fine expressions?" Kaludari replied: "Your father, O blessed Buddha, is advanced in years; he has sent me to invite you to come over to Kapilawot, that he might see you before his death. He and your royal parents will be rejoiced at hearing your most excellent law." "Well," said Buddha, "go and tell the Rahans to hold themselves ready for the journey." It was arranged that ten thousand Rahandas from Magatha and ten thousand from Kapilawot would accompany the illustrious traveller. The distance between the two countries is sixty youdzanas.[3] Sixty days were to be employed in going over that distance, so they were to travel at the rate of but one youdzana a day.
Kaludari was anxious to go and inform the king of the happy issue of his negotiation. He flew through the air, and in a short time reached the palace of the lord of Kapilawot. The king, seeing him, was exceedingly glad; he desired the illustrious Rahan to sit in a becoming place, and gave orders that his patta should be filled with the choicest dishes from the royal table. Meanwhile Kaludari related to the king all the circumstances attending his journey. When he had spoken, Thoodaudana desired him to take his meal. Kaludari begged to be excused, saying that he would go and take his meal in the presence of Buddha. "Where is he now?" replied the king. "Mighty lord," answered Kaludari, "Buddha, accompanied by twenty thousand Rahandas, is on his way to this country, to pay a visit to his royal father; on this very day he has left the city of Radzagio." Thoodaudana was exceedingly pleased; he said again to Kaludari, "Eat your meal here, and please to take another meal to my son; I wish to supply him daily with food during his journey." Kaludari acceded to the king's request. When his meal was over, they cleansed his patta with the most exquisite perfumes, and afterwards filled it with the best and choicest eatables. The patta was then respectfully handed to the aërial messenger, who, in the presence of a large crowd of people, rose in the air with the patta under his arm, and in an instant arrived in presence of Gaudama, to whom he offered the vessel containing the delicious food from his father's table. Buddha received the food with pleasure, and ate it. The same thing was daily performed during all the time the journey lasted. Kaludari went every day to the palace through the air, ate his meal there, and brought that of his distinguished instructor, who during all the way partook of no other food but that which was brought over to him from his father's palace. Every day Kaludari carried news of the progress of Buddha's journey. By this means he increased in the heart of all an ardent desire of seeing him, and disposed every one to wait on the great Gaudama with favourable and good dispositions. The services rendered on this occasion by Kaludari were much valued by Buddha himself, who said: "Kaludari is disposing the people to welcome our arrival; he is therefore one of the most excellent among my disciples."
The princes and all the members of the royal family, having heard of Gaudama's arrival, consulted among themselves as to the best means of paying due respect to the noble and illustrious visitor. They selected the grove of Nigraudatha[4] as the fittest place to receive him with his disciples. The place was properly cleared and made ready for the long-expected company. The inhabitants of the country, attended with their richest dress, carrying flowers and perfumes, went out to meet Buddha.[5] Children of both sexes opened the procession; they were followed by the children of the noblest families; next came all the persons belonging to the royal family. All went to the grove of Nigraudatha, where Buddha had just arrived with the twenty thousand Rahans that accompanied him.
The princes, secretly influenced by pride, thus thought within themselves: This Prince Theiddat is younger than we all; he is but our nephew, let the young people prostrate themselves before him; as to ourselves, let us remain sitting down behind them. This was quickly perceived by Buddha, who said to himself: My relatives refuse to prostrate themselves before me; I will now even compel them to do so. Whereupon he entered into ecstasy, rose in the air, and standing over the heads of his relatives, as a person shaking dust over them, he exhibited to their astonished regards, on a white mango-tree, wonders of fire and water. Thoodaudana, surprised at such a wonderful display of supernatural power, exclaimed: "Illustrious Buddha, on the day you were born they brought you to the presence of the Rathee Kaladewela, to do homage to him; on that occasion, having seen you placing your two feet on the Rathee's forehead, I prostrated myself before you for the first time. On the day of the ploughing solemn rejoicings, you were placed under the shade of the tree Tsampoothapye. The sun by its daily motion had caused the shadows of all surrounding trees to change their direction; that of the tree under which you were placed alone remaining unmoved. I prostrated myself a second time before you; and now, at the sight of this new wonder, I again bow down to you." The example of the king was instantly imitated by all the princes, who humbly bowed down to Buddha. Satisfied with having humbled his proud relatives, Buddha came down and sat in the place prepared for him. He then caused a shower of red rain to pour down over the assembled multitudes. It had the virtue to wet those who liked it, and not to wet those who disliked it. "This is not," said Buddha, "the only time when such a wonder has happened; the same thing took place once during one of my former existences, when I was Prince Wethandra." He went on, relating the most interesting circumstances of that former state of existence. The whole assembly now delighted at hearing his preachings and witnessing the display of his power. They all withdrew when the preaching was over, and retired to their respective places, without, however, inviting Buddha to come and take his meals in their houses.
On the following morning, Buddha set out with his twenty thousand followers to get his meal. When he had arrived at the gate of the city, he stood for a while, deliberating within himself whether he would go to the palace to receive his meal, or go from street to street to beg for it. He paused for a while, reflecting on the course of conduct that had been followed by all the former Buddhas. Having known that they all, without exception, had been in the habit of going out from house to house in quest of their food, he resolved at once to follow their example. Whereupon he entered the city and began to perambulate the streets in search of his food. The citizens, from the various stories of their houses, were looking out with amazement at such an unusual sight. "How is this?" said they; "we see Prince Raoula and his mother Yathaudara going out attired in the richest dresses, sitting in the most elegant conveyance, and now Prince Theiddat[6] is appearing in the streets with his hair and beard shaved, and his body covered with a yellow dress befitting a mendicant. Such a thing is unbecoming indeed." Whilst they were holding this language, on a sudden, rays of the purest light shot forth from the body of Buddha, and illuminated all the objects around his person. At this unexpected sight, they all joined in praising and extolling the virtue and glory of Buddha.
King Thoodaudana was soon informed that his son was perambulating the streets of the city in the dress of a mendicant. Startled at such a news, he rose, and seizing the extremity of his outer garment, ran to the encounter of his son. As soon as he saw him he exclaimed: "Illustrious Buddha, why do you expose us to such a shame? Is it necessary to go from door to door to beg your food? Could not a better and more decent mode be resorted to for supplying your wants?" "My noble father," said Buddha, "it is meet and convenient that all Rahans should go out and beg their food." "But," replied the monarch, "are we not the descendants of the illustrious Prince Thamadat? There is not a single person in our illustrious race that has ever acted in such an indecorous manner." Buddha retorted, "My noble father,[7] the descent from the glorious princes Thamadat is something that belongs both to you and your royal family: the lineage of a Buddha is quite different from that of kings and princes; it bears no resemblance to it. Their ways and manners must essentially differ from those of princes. All former Buddhas have always been in the habit of thus going out in search of their food." Then stopping his course and standing in the street, he uttered the following stanzas, "My noble father, it is not proper that I should ever neglect the duty of receiving alms; it is an action good in itself, tallying with truth, deserving of great merits, and productive of happiness in this and future existences." When he had spoken, his father obtained the state of Thautapan. He went to the palace with his father, saying, "Those who go to beg food according to the injunction and prescription of the law, are doing well, and prepare themselves for a state of happiness both for the present and future: those who do go begging, but without any regard to the ordinances of the law, ought to refrain from doing so." He was speaking in that way when he entered the palace. His aunt Gaudamee became a Thautapan. His father, after this second preaching, reached the state Thagadagan.
Thoodaudana invited Phra and his followers to ascend to the upper part of the palace and partake of the meal prepared for them. When the meal was over, all the ladies of the palace came to pay their respects to Buddha. Some of them urged the Princess Yathaudara to do the same. But she refused to comply with their request, in the hope that a greater deference would be shown to her, and Buddha would come and visit her in her apartments. Perceiving her studied inattendance, Phra said to his father, "My noble father, I will go and visit the princess, and will, without saying a single word, make her pay obedience to, and prostrate herself before me." King Thoodaudana took up the patta, and accompanied his son to the princess's apartments, together with his two disciples, Thariputra and Maukalan. Buddha had scarcely been seated on the place destined to him, when Yathaudara threw herself at Buddha's feet, and placing her two hands on both ankles, touched repeatedly the upper part with her forehead. Meanwhile Thoodaudana mentioned to his son the respectful and affectionate regard she had ever entertained for his person. "Since she heard," added the king, "that you had put on the yellow robe, she would wear only clothes of that colour; when she knew that you took but one meal a day, that you slept on a small and low couch, and gave up, without regret, the use of perfumes, she instantly followed your example, ate but one meal a day, slept on a low couch, and gave up without grief the use of essences." "Illustrious monarch," replied Buddha, "I do not wonder at the practices of late observed by the Princess Yathaudara; in former times, when her merits were as yet only few and imperfect, she was living at the foot of a certain mountain, and knew, even then, how to behave with becomingness, and attend with a strict regard to all religious duties."
This very day, that is to say, the second day after the full moon of Katson, was fixed as the time for the taking place of five grand ceremonies. Nanda,[8] the younger brother of Buddha, was to have his head washed, to put on the thingkiit, or royal head ornament, to be raised to the dignity of crown prince, to be put in possession of his own palace, and to be married. When Phra was leaving the palace, he bade the young prince take his patta and follow him. Nanda instantly complied with the request, and departed. He was just leaving the palace, when the young lady he was to marry heard the sound of the steps and of the voice of her lover. She was then busily engaged in combing her beautiful and shining black hair. With the left hand drawing aside her hair, and with the right leaning on the window-frame, she, with a sweet yet tremulous voice, eagerly recommended him soon to return. She then continued to follow him with anxious eyes until he could be seen no longer. Meanwhile, resting against the window-side, she had her heart full of ominous forebodings. Nanda would have gladly given back the patta to his owner; but as he felt backward to hand it over to him, he followed Buddha as far as the monastery. Though he had no intention of becoming Rahan on his way to that place, yet, despite of his former dispositions, he entered into the society of the perfect. So that on the second day after Phra's arrival at Kapilawot, Nanda became a Rahan. Some other writings mention that this happened only on the third day.
On the seventh day after Phra had entered into the city of Kapilawot, the mother of Raoula, Princess Yathaudara, put on her son the choicest ornaments, and sent him to Phra, saying previously to him: "Dearest son, he whom you see surrounded by twenty thousand Rahandas, whose face resembles gold, and whose body is similar to that of the chief of Brahmas, is indeed your father. He was formerly the owner of the four gold vases which disappeared on the very day he withdrew into solitude; go to him now, and say respectfully, that, being at present crown prince of this kingdom, destined to succeed your grandfather on the throne, you wish to become possessed of the property that will fall to you in right of inheritance." The young prince departed. Having come into the presence of Buddha, he endeavoured, with the simplicity and amiability becoming a young lad, to ingratiate himself in his father's favour, and said how happy he was to be with him, adding many other particulars befitting his age and position. Buddha, having eaten his meal and performed his usual devotions, rose up and departed. Raoula followed behind, saying: "Father, give me my inheritance." Buddha appearing neither displeased nor vexed at such a demand, none of his followers durst tell the young prince to desist from his apparently rude behaviour, and go back to the palace. They all soon reached the monastery. Phra thus thought within himself: Raoula is asking from me perishable things, but I will give him something more excellent and lasting. I will make him partaker of those goods I have gathered at the foot of the Bodi tree, and thereby will provide for him a better inheritance for the future. Whereupon he called Thariputra, and said to him: "Beloved disciple, the young Prince Raoula asks from me a worldly inheritance, which would avail him nothing, but I wish to present him with something more excellent, an imperishable inheritance; let him become a Rahan." Maukalan shaved the head of Raoula and attired him with the tsiwaran. Thariputra gave him the first instructions. When hereafter he became Patzing, Kathaba trained him up to the duties of his new profession.
King Thoodaudana had seen his first son Prince Theiddat leave the palace and all the attracting allurements of a brilliant court; despite of all his precautions, he subsequently witnessed his going into a solitude and becoming a Rahan. Next to him, his younger son Nanda, though assured by the promises of soothsayers of becoming a great and mighty ruler, had joined the society of Rahans. These two events had deeply afflicted him. But, on hearing that his grandson had also become a Rahan, he could no longer keep his affliction within himself. "I had," said he, "hoped that my grandson would succeed me on the throne; this thought consoled me for the loss of my two sons. What will become of my throne? Now the royal succession is at an end, and the line of direct descendants is for ever cut and irrevocably broken asunder."
Thoodaudana obtained the state of Anagam. He said to himself: It is enough that I should have had so much to suffer and endure on the occasion of my two sons and my grandson becoming Rahans; I will spare to other parents a similar affliction. He went to Buddha's place, and having paid him his respects in a becoming manner, asked him to establish a regulation forbidding any son to become Rahan, unless he had the consent of his parents. Buddha assented to his father's wish and preached to him the law. When the instruction was finished, the king bowed to him, rose up, turned on the right, and departed. Buddha, calling immediately the Rahans, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, no one is to be admitted to the profession of Rahan, ere he has obtained the consent of his parents: any one that shall trespass this regulation shall be guilty of a sin."
On a certain day, Phra having eaten his meal at his father's palace, the king related to him the circumstance of a Nat, who, whilst he was undergoing great austerities in the solitude, had come and conveyed the report of his son having succumbed under the hardships of mortification; but he would never give credit to such a rumour, as he was certain that his son could not die ere he had become a Buddha. "My illustrious father," replied Buddha, "you are much advanced in merits; there is no wonder at your not believing a false report; but even in former ages, when your merits were as yet very imperfect, you refused to believe your son was dead, though in proof of this assertion bones were exhibited before you in confirmation of the report." And he went on relating many particulars that are to be found in the history of Maha Damma Pala. It was at the conclusion of this discourse that the king became Anagam. Having thus firmly established his father in the three degrees of perfection, Buddha returned to the country of Radzagio.
During this voyage, the most excellent Phra arrived at the village of Anupya, in the country of the Malla Princes. In the neighbourhood of the village there is a grove of mango-trees. To that place he withdrew with his twenty thousand disciples, and enjoyed himself in that secluded and delightful retreat.
While he dwelt on that spot, the seed of the law that he had planted in his native city was silently taking deep root in the hearts of many. His uncle Thekkaudana had two sons, named Mahanan and Anooroudha. On a certain day Mahanan said to his younger brother: "From among the several families of the royal race, many persons have left the world and embraced the religious profession under the guidance of Buddha. Our family is the only one that has not as yet given any member to the assembly. I will make you a proposal: either you will become an ascetic, and leave me your inheritance; or I will myself take that step, and make over to you all that I possess." Anooroudha at once accepted the proposal.
When the intentions of the two brothers became known, five young princes, their playmates and relatives, named Bagoo, Kimila, Baddya, Ananda,[9] and Dewadat, desired to join them in their pious design. Having put on their finest dress, they went into the country, having no other attendant but Oopali, their barber. They shaped their course in the direction of Anupya. Being at a small distance from the mango-trees' grove, the young princes stripped themselves of their rich dresses, and gave them all to the barber, as an acknowledgment of his services. The latter at first accepted them, and was preparing to return, when the following thought occurred to his mind: "If I go back to Kapilawot with these fine and rich apparels, the king and the people will believe that I have come by foul means in possession of so many valuables, and I shall certainly be put to death. I will follow my masters, and never leave them." Hereupon he returned in all haste and joined them at the very moment they were disposing themselves to enter into the Anupya mango-trees' grove. Oopali was admitted into their company, and ushered along with them into Buddha's presence. Having paid their respects in the usual manner, they applied for the dignity of members of the assembly. Their request was granted. But previous to passing through the prescribed ceremonies, the princes said one to another: "Great indeed and deeply rooted is the pride of princes: it is extremely difficult to shake it off, and free oneself of its tyrannical exactions. Let Oopali be first ordained; we will have an opportunity of humbling ourselves by prostrating ourselves before him." Their request was granted. After having paid their respects to the newly ordained convert, they were likewise admitted among the members of the assembly. Their proficiency in spiritual progress was not the same. During the second Lent, which they spent in the Weloowon monastery, Baddya, Bagoo, and Kimila reached the culminating point of perfection by becoming Rahandas. Ananda became Thautapatti. Anooroudha greatly advanced in the higher path of metaphysics. As to Dewadat, he never attained more than the Laukithamabat.
A little while after the conversion of the royal princes, Buddha left Anupya, continued his voyage to Radzagio, and forthwith retired into the Weloowon monastery to spend his second Lent. The time was chiefly employed in training up the new converts in the knowledge of the great truths, and in the practice of virtue. His son Raoula, about eight years old, evinced the greatest dispositions. His attainments were far above his age, and often elicited the admiration of the Rahans. On a certain occasion Buddha overheard them expressing their astonishment at the surprising progress Raoula was making in his studies. Coming among them as if perchance, Phra asked them what was the subject of their conversation. They answered that they were praising and extolling the wonderful abilities of Raoula, and his matchless good dispositions. Thereupon Buddha remarked that this was not to be wondered at. Then he related to them the dzat Miga, by which he showed to them that during former existences Raoula had distinguished himself in a conspicuous manner by his excellent and admirable dispositions. As a reward for his good behaviour and high mental qualifications, he was made Patzin. His mind continuing to expand in an almost miraculous manner, he became a Rahanda with myriads of Nats.
During the same season, Buddha often went to Radzagio to beg his food. There was in that city a flower-seller, who was wont to bring eight bouquets every day to the king, and receive in return from the royal hands eight pieces of silver. On a certain day, as he was coming from the country into the town with his usual supply of flowers for the king, he happened to see Buddha in the streets at a moment when, by a miraculous display of his power, the six glories beamed out of his body. He then said to himself: "I wish to go and offer these flowers to Buddha. But the king will doubtless be much angry with me. He may have me arrested, thrown into prison, and put to death for having failed in offering him the usual present. Despite the great danger that hangs over me, I will go to Buddha and offer him my flowers. Great, indeed, and lasting shall be the merits I will gain; they will follow me during countless existences."
With a heart full of joy, Thoomana, for such is his name, went to the resting-place where Buddha was seated, surrounded by crowds of people, and laid the flowers at his feet. With a marked satisfaction, Gaudama accepted the offer. Thoomana went home and related to his wife what had just happened. The latter, irritated partly by the fear of the king's wrath, and partly by the loss of the money she daily received, began to abuse her husband in the coarsest language. She was so much maddened by passion that she in all haste went to the king, denounced her husband, and instantly sued for a divorce. Pimpathara revolted at such an act of unparalleled audacity, ordered her to withdraw from his presence and go back to her house. Meanwhile he commanded one of his courtiers to order the flower-seller to come to the palace on the following day. As a matter of course, the royal request was punctually complied with. In the presence of the assembled courtiers, the king highly praised the conduct of Thoomana, and instantly rewarded him with great liberality. As Thoomana had offered to Buddha eight bunches of flowers, the king, to acknowledge in a distinct manner such an offering, gave him eight elephants, eight horses, eight slaves, eight bullocks, eight thousand pieces of silver, and the revenue of eight villages. Buddha likewise exceedingly extolled the meritorious behaviour of Thoomana in the presence of the people, and said that during a whole world he would be exempt from the four states of punishment, enjoy happiness in the seat of man and in those of Nats, and finally become a Pitzega-buddha. The value of the offering, though little in itself, became great by the imminent risks he voluntarily exposed himself to. He made his offering, though he was certain of incurring on that account the ruler's displeasure.
When the season of retirement was over, Gaudama travelled through different places. He went to Patzanawonta in the Dzetia country, thence he passed into the Bisakila forest, and returned to Radzagio, in the grove of Yin-daik trees, near the burial-place.
Whilst Buddha was in the splendid Dzetawon monastery, just presented to him, a strong temptation came upon Ananda to renounce his calling and return into the world. He went so far as to tell some of his brethren that he recollected the promise of a prompt return which he made to his young bride Dzanapada-kaliani, and that now he wished to fulfil it by immediately going back into his palace, and resuming his former mode of life. This was soon reported to Gaudama, who resorted to the following expedient to crush in the bud the rising temptation. He took Ananda by the arm, rose with him in the air, and led him in the direction of the Nats' seat of Tawadeintha. On their way, Buddha, by a miraculous process, exhibited to the eyes of his companion the sight of an immense forest in conflagration. On the burnt stump of a tree he showed him a female monkey horribly mutilated, having her tail, ears, and nose cut off. At such a sight the horrified Ananda turned away his eyes in disgust. A little while after this, Buddha exhibited before him the dazzling and heart-captivating sight of a long array of five hundred matchless beauties. They were daughters of Nats going to pay their respects to the great Thagia. Ananda was gazing at them with silent but enraptured feelings. Buddha said to him: "Do you believe those beauties before you to be equal to Dzanapada?" "She is no more to these perfect forms," answered he, "than the bleeding female monkey we have left behind us is to her." "All these celestial damsels," said Buddha, "I shall give to you, provided you agree to remain in the monastery for some years longer." "Willingly do I accept the proposal," replied Ananda; "I will stay cheerfully in the monastery on such favourable terms." Whereupon both returned to the monastery.
The members of the assembly soon became acquainted with what had passed between the master and the disciple, and keenly taunted Ananda with their sarcastic remarks upon the daughters of Nats. Ashamed of himself, Ananda withdrew into solitude. There he devoted himself to reflection and penitential deeds, and finally annihilated the evil desires of his unsubdued passion. When the inward struggle was over and peace had been restored in him, Ananda went to Buddha's presence, and stated his willingness to dwell for ever in a monastery and lead a religious life. Meantime he released him from the promise he had made to him respecting the celestial beauties. Buddha was much pleased at such a happy change. He said to the assembled religious: "Previous to this occurrence, Ananda resembled a badly-roofed house, which lets in the rain of passions; but now it is similar to a well-roofed building, which is so well protected that it is proof against the oozing of passions." Whereupon he related the following story concerning a former existence of Ananda.
A merchant named Kappaka had a donkey which he used to carry goods from place to place. Having one day come near a place covered with trees, Kappaka unloaded his animal, to allow him some time to rest and graze. Meanwhile, a female donkey was likewise grazing in the neighbourhood. Its presence was quickly detected by Kappaka's animal. When the moment of departure had come, the latter, attracted by the female, kicked furiously at his master, and would not allow the load to be replaced on its back. The merchant, enraged at this unusual freak, began to threaten the rebellious beast, and then to hit it with the whip as hard as he could. At last the poor animal, unable to bear any longer the blows, mentioned to his master the cause of his unusual behaviour. Kappaka told him that if he would but continue his voyage, he would give him at the end of the journey several fine females, much superior to the one he was now coveting. The proposal was accepted. At the end of the journey Kappaka said to the beast: "I will keep my promise with you: but I must inform you that your daily provender shall not be increased; you will have to share it with your companion. Subsequently you will have little ones to provide for and maintain, but your daily ration shall not be increased in the least; you shall have to work for me as much as you do at present, and also to provide for the maintenance and support of your family." The donkey, after a few moments of reflection, thought it was better to remain as he was; and from that moment he was entirely cured of his inordinate inclination. At the conclusion of the narration, Buddha said: "The male donkey was he who has now become Ananda; the female donkey, Dzanapa-kaliani; and Kappaka is now the most excellent Phra, who is the teacher of men, Nats and Brahmas."
Buddha, whilst at Wethalie, went out through the country, and in all the places that he visited preached to the crowds of hearers. It was during one of his benevolent errands that he met with a celebrated Pounha, named Eggidatta, who with a great many disciples led an ascetic life, after having been formerly, first, the chief Pounha of King Kothala, and next of his son. Buddha earnestly desired the conversion of so distinguished a personage. Maukalan was at first despatched to that famous hermit, to attempt to bring him over to his master; but he utterly failed. The reception he at first met with was anything but pleasant. The work was to be done and perfected only by the irresistible eloquence of the great preacher. Buddha soon came up to the entrance of Eggidatta's cell. He began to upbraid the Rathee for teaching his disciples to worship mountains, trees, rivers, and all that exists in nature. He then initiated him in the knowledge of the four great truths. Eggidatta, seeing the truth, at once became a convert with all his disciples. When this great spiritual conquest was achieved, Buddha returned to Radzagio, and spent the third season in the Weloowon or bamboo-grove monastery. It was during the three months of the rainy season that Buddha imparted, in a more complete manner, to his disciples the knowledge and science which during his peregrinations he had but superficially conveyed to them. At the same time, he carefully trained them up in the practice and observance of those disciplinary regulations which were intended as a means to subdue passions, to estrange them from the world and all its attractions, and to lead a spiritual life.
During his stay in the monastery, among the many instructions that he gave to his disciples, I will relate the particulars that he mentioned respecting the former doings and the final conversion of the Rahanda Tsampooka.[10]
In the days of the Buddha Kathaba, Tsampooka, or rather the being who in the present existence is called by that name, put on the religious dress in the Thawatie country. He lived in a fine monastery, and had for his supporters the best and richest people of the place. One day, a Rahan, belonging to another country, came to his monastery and begged the favour to be allowed to live therein for some time. The heartless Tsampooka denied him admittance into the interior of the building, but tolerated his staying in the verandah during the cold season. The people, however, actuated by better feelings than those of their teacher, brought regularly food for the head of the house, as well as for the stranger, for whom they felt great affection. The spiteful Tsampooka could not bear to see the people showing marks of kindness and benevolence towards his hated guest. On one occasion he forgot himself so far as to abuse him, by repeating the following coarse expressions: Eat dirt, go naked, and sleep on the bare ground. Such an inhuman behaviour soon met with a condign punishment. The wretched Tsampooka had at first to endure horrible torments in hell.
On his return to the seat of man on earth, he was born from respectable parents, but he was always prone from his infancy to indulge in the lowest habits. He would secretly steal away, and actually satiate the cravings of hunger by eating the most disgusting things; he would not wear clothing, but ran about in a state of nakedness; he would only sleep on the ground. His parents, after many fruitless attempts to correct him, resolved to make him over to the heterodox ascetics. These received him; but he would not eat in the company of his brethren, nor go to beg with them. He, from the moment they were absent, went to devour the refuse he could find. His eccentric and disgusting habits were soon found out, and his new friends said one to the other: "Let this man be no longer allowed to live with us. Should the disciples of the Rahan Gaudama hear that one of our company is behaving in such a manner, our brotherhood would become a laughing-stock to them." He was, therefore, expelled from this place. Tsampooka went to take his abode on a rock near the place that served as receptacle to the sewers of Radzagio. On that rock he remained in the most fatiguing posture; he leaned on his right hand which rested on the rock, and also on his right knee; the left leg was stretched and the left arm raised up. He kept his mouth opened. When the people asked him why he remained with his mouth wide open, as a man who is incessantly drawing air into his lungs, he answered that, refraining from the use of coarse food, he was feeding on air only: when questioned about the singular position of his two legs, he answered, that, were he to stand on both legs, the earth would instantly shake. He had been during fifty-five years in that sad position, when Gaudama, moved with compassion at his pitiable condition, went in person to convert him. He began to relate to him all that he had done during former existences, mentioning in particular the sin he had been guilty of towards a brother hermit. At this unexpected declaration, Tsampooka humbled himself. Buddha then preached to him his law. The repenting Tsampooka firmly believed in all that was said to him. He then rose up, and, with a heart overflowing with joy, instantly left his place, followed his new master, and soon became a Rahanda. His proficiency in science and virtue was such that he soon occupied a distinguished rank among the members of the assembly.