FOOTNOTES
[1] In glancing over the episode of Thoodaudana's deputation to his son, to invite him to come and visit his native country, the reader is almost compelled to confess that the motive that influenced the king was only inspired by the natural feeling of beholding once more, before he died, him whose fame, spread far and wide, rendered him an object of universal admiration. Was the monarch induced by considerations of a higher order to send for Buddha? There is no distinct proof in support of this supposition. He was his father, and he but obeyed and followed the impulse of his paternal heart. He entertained a high sense of his son's distinguished qualifications. He had faith in the wonderful signs foretelling his future matchless greatness. He desired, therefore, to honour him in an extraordinary way, on the very spot where he had been born. But he appeared to concern himself very little about the doctrines he was preaching with a success never before equalled. The king exhibited a great amount of worldly-mindedness, until his mind had been enlightened by the oral instructions of the great reformer.
It is difficult, if not impossible, to form an accurate idea of the effect produced on the mass of the people by Buddha's preachings. We see that eminent and zealous reformer surrounded by thousands of distinguished disciples in the country of Radzagio. These converts belonged chiefly to the class of anchorites and philosophers, already alluded to in foregoing notes as existing at the time Buddha began to enter the career of preaching. But the great bulk of the populations of the various places he visited seemed to have received for a long time little or no impressions from his discourses. The opponents of Buddha, the Brahmins in particular, exercised a powerful influence over the public mind. They used it most effectually for retaining their ancient hold over the masses. It required the extraordinary display of the greatest wonders to break through the almost insuperable barriers raised by his enemies. From that period we see the people following Buddha, crowding round him, and showing unmistakable signs of belief in him.
The only explanation to account for this undeniable result is the philosophical method adopted by Buddha in expounding the principles of his system. His mode of proceeding in the gradual development of his ideas retained the abstruseness peculiar to subjects discussed in schools of philosophy. The technical terms so familiar to scholars prove enigmatical to the uninitiated vulgus. It takes a long time before maxims elaborated by scholars are so far popularised as to be understood by the unlearned, which in every age and country have always constituted the great mass of the people. If the mind of the generality of men is unable to comprehend at first a system of doctrines, based on metaphysics, we cannot wonder at the slow progress made by the preachings of the great philosopher: but the working of wonders is a tangible fact operating upon the senses of the multitude, eliciting their applauses, and disposing them to yield an implicit faith to all the instructions imparted by the wonderful being that is gifted with supernatural powers. Feelings, and not reason, become the foundation of a belief which grows stronger in proportion to the mysterious obscurity that encompasses the proposed dogmas, when supported by wonderful deeds.
At the time Thoodaudana sent messengers to his son, the great work of conversion was carried on with a most complete and hitherto unheard-of success. The hall of the Weloowon monastery was too small for the thousands that flocked thither to hear Gaudama. Outside its precincts, crowds stood motionless, listening with unabated attention to the discourses that fell from his lips. So crowded was the audience that the messengers had no chance to make their way to the presence of the preacher. Struck with the intense attention paid to what was said by their master's son, they too wished to make themselves acquainted with the subjects of the instruction. What was listened to from motives of mere curiosity, soon made a deep impression upon their mind. The magic power of the irresistible eloquence of Buddha worked a thorough change almost instantaneously in their dispositions, and they became converts. So perfect was their conversion, that they forgot for the sake of truth the very object of their mission. They became at once members of the Assembly, and took rank among the Rahans. They attained the state of Ariahs, and were foremost among the perfect. The great attainments arrived at by the Ariahs communicate to the material portion of their being such an extraordinary amount of amazing virtues or properties, that it becomes so refined as to partake, to a certain degree, of a spiritual nature. Hence we see the Rahandas going over immense distances through the air, and performing deeds of a supernatural order. The power of working miracles is, therefore, inherent in perfection; and it is greater or smaller in proportion to the degree of perfection possessed by individuals. We find that power expanded in Buddha to an unlimited extent, because his mental attainments were boundless.
[2] Magatha is a country in the north of India. It occupied nearly the same extent of territory as that now called North Behar in Bengal. The Pali or sacred language of the southern Buddhists is often called the language of Magatha. Hence we may infer that it was the common language of that country. It is probable that the Pali language was extensively spoken in the days of Gaudama, and it was the channel through which he and his disciples long after him conveyed their religious instructions to the multitude of converts. The Pitagat, or the last amended collection of sacred writings, is written in Pali, which is looked upon in Ceylon, Nepaul, Burmah, and Siam as the language of sacred literature. Except in some old manuscripts, where the old square Pali letters are used, the Burmese employ their common alphabetic characters for writing Pali words. The words, having to pass first through a Burmese ear, and next being expressed by Burmese letters, undergo great changes. To such an extent does the metamorphosis reach, that very often they are scarcely recognisable. The Burmans, however, deserve great credit for having, in very many instances, retained in their orthography of Pali words letters which, though not at all sounded, indicate to the eye the nature of the word, its origin, and its primitive form.
In the southern parts of Burmah the Pali language is learned but not studied, used, but not understood by the inmates of monasteries. They are all obliged to learn certain formulas of prayers to be daily recited in private, and, on great and solemn occasions, to be chanted aloud in the presence of a crowd of pious hearers. The writer, anxious to acquire some knowledge of the sacred language, often visited those monks, who, among their brethren, enjoyed a certain fame for learning, with the express intention of becoming a humble student, under the direction of one of the best informed of the society. He was thoroughly disappointed to find those who proffered their services in great earnest quite ignorant, and utterly incapable of giving him the least assistance.
The Burmese have translated in their vernacular tongue most of the sacred writings. In many instances the translation is not exactly what we call interlineary, but it approaches to it as nearly as possible. Two, three, or four Pali words are written down, and the translation in Burmese follows with a profusion of words which often confuses and perplexes the reader; then come again a few other Pali words, accompanied also with the translation, and so on throughout the whole work. The art of translating well and correctly from one language into another is not so common as many persons may imagine. In a good translator are required many qualifications which are not to be easily met with, particularly in a Burman, to whom we may give credit for knowing well his own tongue, but who, without detracting from his literary attainments, is certainly an indifferent Pali scholar. These translations may convey, perhaps, the general meaning of the original, but, as regards the correct meaning of each term, it is a luxury ever denied to the reader of such crude and imperfect compositions.
[3] It is difficult to ascertain exactly the length of the measure called youdzana, formerly used to indicate land distances. It varies from five to twelve English miles. In measuring the distance from Radzagio to the Brahmin village of Nalanda, the birthplace of Thariputra, which is one youdzana, General Cunningham has found it to be seven miles. This would induce us to hold as certain that at the epoch when Fa-Hian visited the place, the youdzana was equal to seven miles or forty Chinese li. But this would not prove that the more ancient youdzana was not shorter than the one used in the time of the Chinese pilgrim. Several authors maintain that such is the case. It appears, likewise, that the length of that measure of distance has varied with localities and places to such an extent that it has been found in some countries to be equal to more than twelve miles. We believe that when that measure of distance is mentioned in this work, one would not be far from the truth in estimating its length six or seven English miles at the utmost.
[4] The attentive reader of this work cannot fail to remark the general tendencies of Buddhism to isolation, retirement, and solitude. In a retired position, the mind is less distracted or dissipated by exterior objects; it possesses a greater share of self-control, and is fitter for the arduous work of attentive reflection and deep meditation. Whenever Buddha, attended by his followers, reaches a place where he is to stay for a while, a grove outside the city is invariably selected. Thither the great preacher retires, as to a beloved solitude. He enjoys it beyond all that can be said. Alone with his spiritual family, unconcerned about the affairs of this world, he breathes at ease the pure atmosphere of a complete calm; his undisturbed soul soars freely in the boundless regions of spiritualism. What he has seen and discovered during his contemplative errands he imparts with a placid countenance and a mild voice to his disciples, endeavouring thereby to make them progress in the way of knowledge and perfection.
In those solitary abodes of peace Buddha was willing to receive all those who wished for instruction. They were all, without distinction of rank or caste, admitted into the presence of him who came professedly to point to men the way to happiness, helping them to disentangle themselves from the trammels of passions. He preached to all the most excellent law. The tendency to retreat and withdrawal from worldly tumult is, in our own days, conspicuous in the care taken by Buddhistic monks to have their houses built in some lonely quarter of a town, assigned exclusively for that special purpose, or, as is oftener the case, in fine places at a small distance from the walls. Some of those groves, in the centre of which rise the peaceful abodes of Rahans, the writer has often seen and much admired. In towns or large villages, where the ground is uneven, the small heights are generally crowned with the dwellings of religious.
[5] The narrative of Buddha's reception in his father's royal city suggests two reflections. The first is, that the saying Nemo Propheta in suâ patriâ was as true in the days of Gaudama as it has been in subsequent ages. The mountains of Kapilawot had often re-echoed the praises of Buddha and the recital of his wonderful doings. The splendid retinue of twenty thousand distinguished converts that attended his person, the hitherto unwitnessed display of miraculous powers, &c.,—all these peculiarly remarkable circumstances seemed more than sufficient to secure for him a distinguished reception among his kinsmen, who ought to have been proud of being connected with him by the ties of relationship. Such, however, was not the case. Actuated by the lowest feelings of base jealousy, his relatives refused to pay him the respect he was so well entitled to. Their wretched obduracy was to be conquered by the awe and fear his miraculous power inspired.
The second reflection suggested by the recital of the ceremonies observed on the occasion of Buddha's reception in his native country is the truly pleasing fact of seeing the weaker sex appearing in public divested of the shackles put upon it by oriental jealousy. In Burmah and Siam the doctrines of Buddhism have produced a striking, and, to the lover of true civilisation, a most interesting result, viz., established the almost complete equality of the condition of women with that of men. In those countries women are not miserably confined in the interior of their houses, without the remotest chance of ever appearing in public. They are seen circulating freely in the streets; they preside at the comptoirs, and hold an almost exclusive possession of the bazaars. Their social position is more elevated in every respect than that of the persons of their sex in the regions where Buddhism is not the predominating creed. They may be said to be men's companions, and not their slaves. They are active, industrious, and by their labours and exertions contribute their full share towards the maintenance of the family. The marital rights, however, are fully acknowledged by a respectful behaviour towards their lords. In spite of all that has been said by superficial observers, I feel convinced that manners are less corrupted in those countries where women enjoy liberty, than in those where they are buried alive by a barbarous and despotic custom in the grave of an opprobrious and vice-generating slavery. Buddhism disapproves of polygamy, but it tolerates divorce. In this respect the habits of the people are of a damnable laxity. Polygamy is very rare in Burmah among the people. This nefarious and anti-social practice is left to the magnates of the land, from the king down to a petty myowon, who make a part of their greatness consist in placing themselves above public opinion, above moral and religious precepts, for enjoying the unrestrained gratification of the basest appetite. Though divorce be a thing of common occurrence, it is looked upon as an imperfection, merely tolerated for the sake of human frailty.
[6] Buddhist monks, out of humility and contempt for all worldly things, do not allow hairs or beard to grow. They walk barefooted, wearing a yellow dress of the simplest make. They are bound to live on the alms that are freely bestowed upon them. The regulations of the Wini are, in this respect, most explicit, and leave no room for false interpretation. A Rahan, having renounced the world, and divested himself of all worldly property, is bound by his professional vows to rely for his daily food on what he may obtain by begging. Hence the appellatio of Bickus, or mendicants, always bestowed on them by Gaudama, whenever he addresses them in particular on certain points regarding their profession. In Burmah, as soon as the day begins to dawn, a swarm of yellow-dressed monks sally forth from their abode with the patta under the left arm, and perambulate the streets in quest of food. They never ask for anything; they accept what is voluntarily tendered to them, without uttering a single word of thanks, or even looking at their generous benefactors. This action of bestowing alms on the Rahans is deemed a most meritorious one. The offerer, therefore, becomes liberal, not on account of the person he is assisting, but because of the abundant merits he hopes to derive from the act. This notion agrees very well with the leading tenets of Buddhism.
[7] The answer of Buddha to his royal father is a most remarkable one, and deserves the attention of the observer. The great moralist does away with all the prerogatives man may derive from birth, rank, and riches. Law alone can confer titles of true greatness and genuine nobility. The fervent and zealous observers of the law are alone entitled to the respect of their fellow-men. The begging of alms may be, in the eyes of worldlings, a low and mean action, but it becomes a most dignified one, because it is enforced by the law. This lofty principle boldly establishes the superiority of virtue upon the strongest basis, and sanctions the moral code he was destined to publish to men and saddle on their conscience. The criterion of all that is good, excellent, praiseworthy, and meritorious is no more to depend on the arbitrary and very often erroneous views of men, but must rest upon the immutable tenets of the eternal law, discovered, revived, and published by the omniscient Buddha. This truth, like a flash of light, illuminated the king's mind, and, at this first preaching of his son, he attained the first of the four states of perfection.
The princes Thamadat and Thoodaudana boast to have descended from are, according to Buddhistic sacred books, the princes who were elected to hold supreme power at the very moment the words mine and thine began to be heard amongst men, after they had eaten the rice called Tsale, and become subject to passions, that is to say, at the origin of society, in the beginning of the world. The kings of Burmah, down to the present occupant of the throne, who are descended, in their opinion, from the Kapilawot line of kings, lay claim to the same distinction. The writer has heard the present King of Burmah very coolly stating as a matter of fact, which no one could think of contradicting, that he was descended from the Thamadat's royal line.
The Princess Yathaudara, mentioned in this narrative, had been the wife of Buddha, ere he had withdrawn into solitude and renounced the world. A son had just been born to him when he left his father's palace. His name was Raoula. The doctrine of the influence of merits gathered during former existences is forcibly illustrated in the case of Yathaudara, who, unmindful of the position she occupied in former years, did not hesitate to fling herself at Buddha's feet, acknowledging him to be worthy of all honour and veneration. Her former merits disposed her to view in him, who had been her husband, the extraordinary personage who was to lead men through the path of virtue to the deliverance.
[8] Nanda was Buddha's younger brother, or rather half-brother. His mother was Patzapati, the younger sister of Maia. Since Buddha had renounced the world, Nanda had become the presumptive heir to the crown of Kapilawot. His conversion grieved the king much, who, to prevent the recurrence of such an event, exacted from the great reformer that in after times no one could be admitted into the society of the perfect, without having previously obtained the consent of his parents; failing such a condition, the act of admission should be considered as null and void. Hence, we read in the book of ordination, or admittance to the dignity of Rahan, that the person directed by the president of the assembly to examine the candidate never omits to inquire of him whether he has obtained the consent of his parents.
The conversion of Raoula followed that of Nanda. Of this new and distinguished convert no mention is made afterwards in the course of this work. He must, in all likelihood, have become a celebrated member of the assembly, as he was trained up to the functions and duties of his profession by the greatest and most renowned disciples, such as Maukalan, Thariputra, and Kathaba.
In the history of Buddhism, the Dzetawon monastery is not inferior in celebrity to that of Weloowon. Therein Gaudama announced during a certain night the thirty-six beatitudes of the law to a Nat that had come and requested him to make him acquainted with the most perfect points of his law. In the division of the scriptures called Thoots, or sermons, we see that the most important have been delivered in the hall of that monastery.
Here is another instance of a donation of landed property to a religious corporation. In the first case, the gift had been made to him and to his actual followers. But in this circumstance, Phra desires the rich and pious benefactor to make the donation, not only in behalf of self and the present assembly, but also in that of all future members, who might resort to this place. In a Buddhistic point of view, we may conclude that the advice given to the donor was intended as a means of multiplying the sum of the merits of his liberality, which must be commensurate with the number of the individuals to whom it is designed to be extended.
According to the principle respecting property, which from immemorial time has prevailed under almost all despotic governments in Asia, which recognises the head of the state as the sole, real, and absolute owner of the soil, it is evident that the act of donation was, legally speaking, a declaration or a statement of the disposal an individual made of the rights such as he had them, viz., those of use, in favour of a religious body. The landed property, thus conferred, acquired a kind of sacredness which preserved it from the grasp of even the most rapacious ruler. On the other hand, the religious body had no right or power whatsoever to sell or dispose of that property. In a corporation constituted as the assembly of the disciples of Buddha was, and is in our own days, the society alone could have the possession and management of immovable properties given to monasteries. Donations of this kind must have stood good as long as there were members of the Buddhistic religious family willing and ready to maintain their rights. Nothing short of a complete revolution in the political state of the country, or the prolonged absence of the individuals vested with the right of occupation, could put an end to the effect of those deeds of donation. In Burmah, the Buddhist monks possess nothing beyond the ground upon which stands the monastery. From certain inscriptions found in the midst of the ruins of the temples at Pagan, it is evident that in the palmy days of that city donations of landed properties, such as paddy-fields, fruit-trees, bullocks, and peasants, were made to monasteries and temples. But for the last three or four hundred years, no vestiges of such deeds have ever been found. So far as I have been able to make inquiries, I am not aware that the order has ever become possessor of lands. In Ceylon such is not the case, at least was not when the English occupied the island. Extensive tracts of valuable lands were in the hands of the Talapoins, who thereby obtained over the people the twofold influence conferred by wealth and religion.
[9] Ananda, whose conversion is here mentioned, was the son of Amitaudana, a brother of King Thoodaudana, and, therefore, first cousin to Gaudama. He is one of the best known disciples of the celebrated philosopher of Kapilawot. He has gained his well-earned fame, less by the shining attainments of his intellect than by the amiable qualities of a loving heart. He bore to Buddha the most affectionate regard and the warmest attachment from the very beginning of his conversion. The master repaid the love of the disciple by tokens of a sincere esteem and tender affection. Though it was a long period afterwards ere Ananda was officially appointed to minister unto the personal wants of Buddha, yet the good dispositions of his excellent heart prompted him to serve Buddha on all occasions, and in every way that was agreeable to him. He became the medium of intercourse between his beloved master and all those that approached him. When he had to communicate orders or give directions to the religious, or when some visitors desired to wait on him, Ananda was the person who transmitted all orders, and ushered visitors into the presence of the great preacher.
Dewadat was both first cousin to Buddha and his brother-in-law. His father was Thouppabudha, Maia's brother. He was brother of the Princess Yathaudara, who had married our Gaudama, when he was crown prince of Kapilawot. Hereafter, we shall have the opportunity of seeing that his moral dispositions were very different from those of the amiable Ananda.
[10] The story of Eggidatta gives us an insight into one of the tenets which was held by that ascetic. His interlocutor reproached him with worshipping mountains, trees, forests, rivers, and the heavenly bodies. From the expressions made use of by the Burmese translator, the writer is inclined to believe that a direct allusion is made to pantheistic opinions. We know that most of the Indian schools of philosophy have based their various systems of metaphysics upon that most erroneous foundation. According to pantheists, this world is not distinct from the essence of God; all that exists is but a manifestation or a development of the substance of God. This world is not the work of God, existing as distinct from its Maker, but it is God manifesting Himself substantially in all things. Who could, then, wonder at the conduct of Tsampooka? He worshipped God, or rather that portion of the supreme Being he saw in the great and mighty subjects that surrounded him and attracted his notice.
Spinoza, in the seventeenth century, and his unfortunately too numerous followers in this century, have recast into a hundred different moulds the pantheistic ideas of the Hindu philosophers, and offer to the intelligence of their hearers and readers, through an almost unintelligible language, the same deadly food which has finally produced on the Hindu mind the sad results which we witness. If we were better acquainted with the variety of doctrines which the Hindu philosophers have exhibited in the field of metaphysics, we would be soon convinced that the modern metaphysicians, who have placed themselves out of the pale of revelation, have not advanced one step in that science, and that the divergence in their opinions is but a faithful representation of the confusion which for more than two thousand years prevailed on the banks of the Ganges among their predecessors in the same speculative studies.
It appears that Tsampooka was in his days what the Jogies or Hindoo penitents are up to our time. He remained on his rock, in the most difficult position, for the space of fifty-five years, exhibiting himself to the crowd, and aiming at winning their admiration by the incredible sufferings that he voluntarily submitted to. His apparent sanctity was made up of very doubtful materials. He passed himself off for a man who could remain without eating, and who was gifted with supernatural powers. Plain humility, which is nothing but the result of the true knowledge of self, was not the favourite virtue of our spiritual quack.
CHAPTER IX.
A rich man of Thawattie, named Anatapein, becomes a convert—Story of Dzewaha—He cures Buddha of a painful distemper—The people of Wethalie send a deputation to Buddha—Digression on the manner Buddha daily spent his time—Settling of a quarrel between the inhabitants of Kaulia and those of Kapilawot—New converts are strengthened in their faith—Thoodaudana's death in the arms of his son—Queen Patzapati and many noble ladies are elevated to the rank of Rahaness—Conversion of Kema, the first queen of King Pimpathara—Heretics near Thawattie are confounded by the display of miraculous powers—Buddha goes to the seat of Thawadeintha, to preach the law to his mother.
When Buddha was in the country of Radzagio, a certain rich merchant, named Anatapein, came to Radzagio, with five hundred carts loaded with the most precious goods, and took his lodging in the house of an intimate friend. Whilst living with his friend, he heard that Gaudama had become a Buddha. Suddenly, he was seized with an earnest desire of seeing him and hearing his doctrine. On a certain day, he rose at an early hour, and perceived, reflected through the lattices of the window, some rays of an uncommon brightness. He went in the direction of the light to the place where Buddha was preaching the law. He listened to it with great attention, and, at the end of the discourse, he obtained the state of Thautapan. Two days after, he made a great offering to Buddha and to the assembly, and requested him to come to the country of Thawattie. The request was granted. The distance to Thawattie is forty-five youdzanas. Anatapein spent enormous sums that one monastery should be erected at each youdzana distance. When Buddha was approaching, the pious merchant arranged as follows for the reception of the distinguished visitor, and presenting to him a splendid monastery called Dzetawon, which he had made ready for him. He sent first his son, richly attired, with five hundred followers, belonging to the richest families; then followed his two daughters with five hundred girls, all decked with the most costly ornaments. Every one carried flags of five different colours. These were followed by five hundred dames, having the rich man's wife at their head, each carrying a pitcher of water. Last of all, came Anatapein, with five hundred followers, all wearing new dresses. Gaudama let the crowd walk in front, and he followed attended by all the Rahans. When he entered the grove, he appeared as beautiful as the peacock's tail when completely expanded. Anatapein asked Gaudama how he wished the donation should be made and effected? "Let the monastery be offered," said Buddha, "to all the Rahans that may come in future to this place from what quarter soever." Thereupon, the rich man, holding a golden vessel of water, poured its contents on the hands of Buddha, saying: "I present this monastery to Buddha and to all the Rahans that may come hereafter to reside therein." Buddha said prayers and thanks in token of his accepting the offering. Seven days were devoted to making this great offering, and during four months uninterrupted rejoicings went on in commemoration of this great and solemn donation. For the purchase of the place, and the expenses of the ceremony, enormous sums were lavished. During the era of former Buddhas this very place had always been purchased and offered to them and their disciples.
[N.B.—Here is found narrated in full the history of a celebrated physician named Dzewaka. As such story has no reference whatever to Buddha's career, I will give but a very succinct account of it.]
At a certain time,[1] when Buddha lived in the city of Radzagio, the country of Wethalie was made rich, gay, and attractive by the presence of a famous courtesan. A nobleman of Radzagio, who had just returned from that country, narrated to the king all that he had seen at Wethalie, and induced the monarch to set up, in his own kingdom, some famous courtesan, who would be skilful in music and dancing, as well as attractive by the form and accomplishments of her person. Such a person having been procured, she was, by the munificence of the king, placed on a most splendid footing, and one hundred pieces of silver were to be paid for each evening's visit. The king's son being rather assiduous in his visits to her place, she became pregnant. Aware of her state, the courtesan affected to be sick until her confinement. She directed her servant to throw out the newly-born infant, on a heap of rubbish, in some lonely and distant place. The next morning the king's son, going out with some attendants, chanced to pass close to the spot where the infant had been deposited. His attention having been attracted by the noise of crows hovering close by, he went to see what it was. To his great surprise, he saw an infant, yet breathing, half buried in rubbish. Taken with the beauty of this little creature, the prince ordered the child to be carried to the palace, where he was brought up with the greatest care and attention. He was named Dzewaka, which means life, because the prince, when he found him, inquired if he was alive. The young lad, having reached the years of discretion, was unwilling to remain in the palace, not occupied with any business. In order to afford relief and comfort to his fellow-creatures, he resolved to study medicine. He repaired to Benares, placed himself under the direction of a famous physician, and soon became eminent by his extreme proficiency in the profession. Having left his master, and begun practice in his own name and for his own account, Dzewaka worked the most wonderful cures, which soon procured to him unbounded wealth and an extraordinary reputation.
Dzewaka was at the height of his fame, when, on a certain day, Buddha happened to be troubled with bellyache. He called Ananda and said that he wanted some medicine to relieve him from pain. Ananda went to the place where lived the celebrated Dzewaka, and informed him of Buddha's complaint. The doctor ordered first a rubbing of oil, which was to be repeated three days after. This remedy not having a full effect, Dzewaka took three lily flowers, whereupon he spread several powders, and came to Buddha, saying, "Most glorious Phra, here is one lily flower, please to smell it; this will be followed by ten motions. Here is a second one; the smelling thereof will produce a similar effect; and this one will cause the same result." Having handed over the three flowers, the doctor paid his respects to Buddha, turned to the right, and left the monastery.
When he was crossing the gate, he thought within himself, "I have given a medicine calculated to cause thirty motions, but as the complaint is rather of a serious and obstinate character, twenty-nine motions only will take place; a warm bath would be required to produce the thirtieth;" and with this reflection he departed. Buddha, who saw all that passed in the doctor's mind, called Ananda and directed him to prepare a warm bath. A little while after, Dzewaka came back to Buddha, and explained to him his prescription. Buddha was soon restored to his former health, and Dzewaka told him that the people were preparing to make him offerings. Maukalan went to the son of Thauna, a rich man, to get some rice from a field that had been watered with milk. The owner gave rice to Maukalan and urged him to partake of it, assuring him that there was some other in reserve for Buddha; Maukalan assented. After the meal, his patta was cleaned with perfumed water, and filled with the choicest food. Maukalan took it to Buddha, who ate it. Afterwards he preached the law to the king and to an immense crowd; amongst them was Thauna's son. They all obtained the first degree of perfection, but Thauna reached at once the state of Arahat.
Dzewaka came again to Buddha's presence, and requested the favour of presenting him with two splendid pieces of cloth, which he had received in present from a king whom he had cured of a most distressing distemper. Moreover, he wished that the Rahans should be allowed to receive clothes of a better sort than those they were wont to wear. Buddha received the two pieces and preached the law to the donor, who attained the state of Thautapan. Dzewaka, rising from his place, wheeled to the right and departed.
A little while after, Gaudama called the Rahans and said to them, "Beloved Bickus, now I give permission to the faithful to make offerings of cloth for your dress.[2] Whoever is pleased with his present dress, let him wear it; whoever is disposed to receive some other from the people, let him do so. But I must praise you for having hitherto been satisfied with the ancient dress." The people of the city having heard of the permission given to the Rahans, offered at once more than one hundred thousand pieces of cloth. Their example was followed by the people of the country, who made offerings to the same amount.
A little while after this, Buddha received a deputation from the Wethalie people, inviting him to visit their country. Here is the reason of the invitation. The country was very rich and flourishing. The Malla princes governed it each in turn for a certain space of time. On a sudden a terrific pestilence desolated the land, which was in a short time strewed with dead bodies in every direction. In the midst of so great a calamity some advised to propitiate the Nats, by making offerings to them; others said that recourse must be had to the great teachers; a third party insisted upon calling to their aid the great Gaudama, who had appeared in this world for the purpose of saving mankind. The last opinion prevailed. Having ascertained that he lived at Radzagio, a great number of princes, pounhas, and nobles went to Radzagio, with great presents for King Pimpathara, to induce him to allow the great teacher to come to their country. The object of their mission having become known, Buddha agreed to go. He sallied forth from the Weloowon monastery, attended by the king as far as the southern bank of the Ganges. Having reached the northern one, he was received with every possible mark of the highest respect and veneration. As soon as he set his feet in the country, a heavy rain fell which almost deluged the land. The water carried away the dead bodies. The atmosphere was purified, the pestilence ceased, and all the sick recovered. On the fifth day after the full moon of Nayon (June), Buddha having conferred such a favour to the people of Wethalie, left that country and returned to Radzagio, which he reached on the full moon of Watso (July), just in time to spend the fourth season in the Weloowon monastery.
Here is inserted a short sketch of the manner in which Buddha spent his days during the rainy season, as the translator has found in one of the manuscripts before him.
Each day was divided into five parts, and a certain occupation was reserved to each part. 1. Buddha generally rose at an early hour, a little after daybreak, washed his face, rinsed his mouth, and dressed. He then retired into a private apartment. With his all-seeing eyes, he glanced over all creatures, carefully examined the amount of their merits and demerits, and the real nature of their dispositions. The reason for his taking a survey of the state and condition of all beings was to ascertain the dispositions of the various beings, and discern those who were prepared to hear the preaching of truth from those who, on account of their demerits, were as yet unprepared for receiving beneficially for themselves such a great favour. When this was done, he put on his full canonical dress, and, with the mendicant's pot under his arm, he sallied forth in quest of his food. He invariably directed his steps towards those places where he knew that his preachings would be heard with beneficial results. Sometimes he went alone; at other times he was attended with a certain number of his disciples. His countenance bespoke an unaffected modesty and an inimitable mildness. Occasionally he allowed a display of wonders to take place. Musical instruments emitted, of themselves, sweet tunes, which, revealing to the people the coming of Buddha, rejoiced their heart and disposed them to bestow abundant alms, and to hear the preaching of the law. Some of the hearers became Upasakas, others Thautapans, &c., &c., agreeably to every one's disposition. Then he returned to his monastery.
2. As soon as he had arrived, he washed his feet, and during the ablution he had his disciples assembled round him, and said to them, "Beloved Bickus, be ever watchful and attentive, with a mind ever prone to reflection. It is exceedingly difficult to obtain the nature of man,[3] to hear the law, to become perfect, to obtain the state of Rahanda, and to arrive to the condition of a Buddha." He then pointed out to them some subjects of meditation. Many of the disciples devoted themselves to mental labour; some combined together manual and mental exertions; others withdrew to lonely places at the foot of certain trees, and into the caves of neighbouring hills. Buddha then took his meal, and retired for awhile alone into his own private apartment. When he arose a little after mid-day, he anew contemplated all beings, and fixed his attention on those that were to come and receive his instructions. He soon came out, and at once began to impart instructions to all those that had arrived, from what place soever. When the instruction was completed, the people withdrew.
3. After the people's departure, Buddha bathed and took a walk in the open verandah of the monastery. His mat, cushion, &c., were spread in a becoming and open place. The Rahans hastened at that hour to come and communicate freely the result of their mental exertions. When they wanted any explanation, they were encouraged to put him questions, which were instantly answered; and they received submissively the answers which he condescended to give to them. This exercise lasted until it was dark. The disciples retired from their master's presence.
4. After their departure, the Nats and other celestial beings were admitted. Buddha conversed with and instructed them until nearly midnight.
5. Buddha then walked awhile to relieve his limbs from extreme lassitude, and went into his apartment to take some rest. He rose very early, and began to review the beings who, during the days of former Buddhas, had distinguished themselves by their exertions in the path of virtue and in the high mental attainments.
During one of his usual benevolent errands through the country, Gaudama converted Ouggasena, his wife and companions. Here is an abridged narrative of that event. Ouggasena was the son of a rich man. In the time of his youth a company of comedians came to Radzagio and exhibited during seven days in the presence of King Pimpathara and his court. Our young man, along with many of his companions, attended the exhibition. On a sudden, he became passionately enamoured of a rope dancing-girl, who performed many feats with accomplished grace and uncommon address. Despite his parents' remonstrances and entreaties, he sacrificed to his ungoverned passion all considerations, and he married the damsel. In his new situation, he had no alternative but to learn the art of rope-dancing, tumbling feats, and standing in various attitudes on the extremity of posts or masts, sometimes sixty cubits high. During his noviciate, he had to bear the laughter and taunts of his wife and of his new friends. By dint of exertion he became proficient in the art of performing tumblers' feats with a surprising agility. One day it was announced at the sound of the drum that Ouggasena was to perform on the top of a post sixty cubits high. An immense crowd of citizens went out with great eagerness to see the performance. When the amusements had just begun, Buddha happened to pass by with a number of disciples. He desired Maukalan to go ahead, and begin to preach to Ouggasena. Soon he came up himself in person, and converted the juggler, who forthwith descended from his mast, prostrated himself before Buddha, and asked to be admitted as a member of the assembly. After further instructions he obtained the science of Rahanda. His wife and all the company became likewise converts.[4]
Buddha had now fulfilled the promise he had formerly made to the ruler of Radzagio, to spend three consecutive seasons in his royal city. He went over to the Wethalie country, and fixed his residence in a fine place, in the midst of a forest of sala-trees, called Mahawon. Whilst he enjoyed himself in that place, a quarrel took place between a portion of the people of Kappila and that of Kaulia, who lived on both banks of the little river Rauhani. The cause of the dispute was the irrigation of paddy-fields. The small river had been duly barred, but on account of an unusual drought there was not water enough to supply the quantity required for the fields on both banks. One party wanted to have all the water, the other demurred. Hence a dispute arose which, wildfire-like, spread from the banks of the stream all over both countries. A general appeal to arms ensued, and, in a short time, both armies stood facing each other in battle array.
At an early hour Buddha, having risen from his couch, cast, as usual, a glance over all beings. He soon saw the feud that existed between the country of his birth and that of Kaulia. Moved with compassion over the miseries which that people, blinded by a furious passion, were bringing upon themselves, he went through the air, and stood over and above the stream which separated the two armies. Rays of glory, beaming out of his person, soon attracted general attention. Both parties laid down their arms and prostrated themselves, worshipping him. He said to them, "Princes and warriors, hearken to my words. Which is the most valuable, a small quantity of water or the lives of countless beings, and, in particular, the lives of princes?" They answered, "Of course the lives of princes and warriors are most valuable." "If so," retorted Buddha, "lay aside your passion, conquer your anger, throw away your weapons of destruction, love each other, and live in peace." Both parties, by a low and prolonged tone of voice, expressed their deep regret at what they had done, and their sincere desire to follow his instructions. He preached to them the law in such an impressive and convincing manner that on the spot two hundred and fifty noblemen of Kappila and the same number of Kaulia asked for admittance among the members of the assembly.
The instruction they had heard, and which had determined their vocation, had not had time to cast deep roots in their hearts. They soon regretted their home, their families, and their former gay life. Buddha, who saw what was going on in their souls, said to them, "Will you come with me, and enjoy yourselves on the green banks of the beautiful lake Kontala?" They joyfully accepted the proposal. By the power inherent in his nature, Buddha took them through the air, and soon reached the lake. They alighted on its banks. Delighted with the beautiful scenery that surrounded them, and ignorant of the new objects which they saw, they interrogated Buddha about the names of the new plants and fruits which they perceived. Gaudama condescended to answer all their questions. While thus engaged they saw the king of the birds of the lake resting on the branch of a tree. On a sudden five hundred birds of the same kind came crowding round their chief, and, by their cries and various attitudes, testified the happiness which they felt at being in his company.
The new converts wondered at the admirable instinct of those birds, and communicated to each other their mutual surprise. As an accomplished teacher, Buddha availed himself of the opportune moment, and said to them in a mild manner, "Beloved disciples, what you see now and admire is the lively and true image of my family." So effectually was the instruction conveyed that they all at once became Thautapan, and no longer thought of returning into the world. By the virtue inherent in their new position, they were enabled to fly through the air, and they returned with Buddha into the Mahawon residence.
On their arrival, Buddha began his fifth season in that same place. It was in the middle of that season, in the month of Wakhaong (August), that he heard that his father had been seized with a violent distemper, which left him no rest either day or night. Sensible of his approaching end, Thoodaudana ardently wished to see his son for the last time. In the morning, at the hour when Buddha was reviewing all beings, and examining with a compassionate heart their respective condition, he saw the sad and painful position of his royal father. He instantly summoned, by the means of Ananda, a select band of disciples, and flying through the air, alighted with his company in front of the palace. Without a moment's delay he ascended to the upper apartments, and sat on a place prepared for him, near the head of the couch upon which lay the royal patient.
Buddha, recollecting himself awhile, and then laying one of his hands on his father's head, said, "By the virtue of the merits I have acquired during countless existences, by the power of the fruits gathered during forty-nine days round the tree Bodi, let this head be forthwith relieved from all pain." It happened so in the twinkling of an eye. Nan, or Nanda, the younger brother of Buddha, the son of his aunt Patzapati, holding the right hand of his father, said with a fervent earnestness, "By the merits that I have obtained at the feet of Buddha, let this right hand be freed from all pain." And perfect cure instantly followed. Ananda, Phra's first cousin, held the left arm. Thariputra laid his hand on the back, Maukalan grasped the feet. All of them with a similar faith uttered such like prayers, and the same happy result invariably followed. Thoodaudana was delivered from all pain. But he continued to remain very weak.
Buddha, profiting by that favourable opportunity, preached to his father the law of mutability, and gave him many and truly seasonable instructions on that most important subject. With such a persuasive language did he expound this favourite doctrine that his father became at once a Rahanda. At the same time he distinctly informed him that seven days hence the end of his life would inevitably happen. Thoodaudana, perfectly prepared for the new change, that is to say, for death, by his son's instructions, and thoroughly resigned, saw before him the true state of Neibban, and said, "Now I clearly perceive the instability of all things. I am free from all passions. I am completely disentangled from the trammels of existence." Rocking himself in the bosom of these comforting truths, he spent happily the few days he had yet to live. On the last day, and for the last time, he paid his respects to Buddha by worshipping him. Sitting then on his couch, the royal patient humbly asked pardon in the presence of all his attendants for all offences he had committed by thoughts, words, and deeds. Having performed this act of sincere humility, he consoled his wife Patzapati, who sat bathed in tears, as well as the other members of the royal family, and several times repeated before them the great truth—that all beings, when they come into existence, have within, inherent in their nature, a principle of death that hurries them to their end and dissolution; that the same principle that has brought near and united beings together is always opposed, and at last overpowered by the opposite one that tends to separate them. He then placidly lay on his couch, and gently breathed his last in the day of the full moon of Wakhaong, on a Saturday, at the rising of the sun, in the year of the Eetzana, era 107, at the advanced age of ninety-seven years.
Gaudama, after his father's demise, when all the Rahans were assembled round the deathbed, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, behold my father's remains. He is no longer what he was a little while ago. He has undergone the change. No one can offer an effectual and lasting resistance to the principle of death, inherent in all beings. Be diligent in the practice of good works: follow steadily the four roads leading to perfection." After this lecture, he consoled his aunt Patzapati and the other ladies of the court, who, with dishevelled hair, were wailing aloud and striking their breasts. He minutely explained to them the consequences resulting from the great principle of mutability, which pervades all beings and infallibly leads them to destruction by the separation of their constitutive parts.
When the instruction was finished, Buddha directed Kathaba to go and prepare the spot on which the funeral and cremation of the corpse were to take place. Aided by Thariputra, he washed the corpse, which was subsequently placed in great state, on a magnificent and lofty catafalco, raised for the purpose. The princes of Thekkara, Thoopawa, and Weritzara, came to attend the royal funeral and offer presents. The corpse was carried processionally through the principal streets of the city at the sound of all musical instruments. Buddha, in person, received the corpse, and laid it on the funeral pile. To no one else would he leave the honourable and pious task of setting fire to it. On that occasion there took place an indescribable outburst of wailings and lamentings. The impassible Buddha preached the law on that occasion. He left aside all praises in behalf of the deceased. He was satisfied with announcing the law; and countless beings, both among men and Nats, obtained the deliverance.
After the loss of her royal husband, Queen Patzapati, profoundly impressed with all that she had seen and heard, desired to renounce the world and embrace a religious mode of life. For that purpose she came to the presence of Buddha, and asked three times the permission to follow her inclination and become Rahaness. Three times the solicited favour was denied her. Buddha then left his own native country and returned to Wethalie, fixing his abode in the Gutagaia-thala monastery, in the Mahawon forest.
Buddha had not been long in this place when he had to grant the request which he at first refused to his aunt Patzapati. The wives of the princes of the Kappila and Kaulia countries, who, to the number of 500, had recently renounced the world, desired also to follow the example set before them by their husbands. They went to the queen's apartments and communicated to her their design, entreating her to help them in obtaining the object of their wishes. Patzapati not only promised them her support, but expressed the determination to join their company. As a token of the sincerity and earnestness of their resolution, all the ladies, without the least hesitation, cut their beautiful black hair, put on a dress in accordance with their pious intentions, and resolutely set out on foot in the direction of the Wethalie country.
Unused to such bodily exertions, the pious pilgrims suffered much during their long journey. At last, worn out with fatigue, covered with dust, they arrived near the Mahawon monastery. They respectfully stopped at the gate, and requested an interview with Ananda. The latter, having ascertained from their own mouth the object of their pious and fatiguing errand, hastened into the presence of Buddha, and entreated him to grant the earnest and praiseworthy demand of his aunt and of the other ladies, her companions. On hearing the request, Buddha, for a while, remained silent, as if deliberating on the answer he had to give. Then he said: "Ananda, it is not expedient to allow women to embrace the religious state; otherwise my institutions shall not last long." Ananda, undismayed by that reply, respectfully reminded Buddha of all the favours he had received from Patzapati, who had nursed and brought him up with the utmost care and tenderness, from the day his mother died, when he was but seven days old, and represented with a fervent earnestness the good dispositions of the pious postulants. Buddha's scruples were overcome by the persuasive language of the faithful Ananda. He asked whether women could observe the eight precepts: and added, that in case they would consent to bind themselves to a correct observance of them, they might be admitted as members of the assembly.
Fully satisfied with the answer he had obtained, the venerable Ananda saluted Buddha, and hastened to the gate of the monastery, where his return was impatiently awaited. On hearing the good news, Patzapati, in the name of her companions, spoke to Ananda: "Venerable Ananda, we all rejoice that the favour so often asked for has been at last granted unto us. As a young maid, who has bathed, and washed her hair, is anxiously desirous to put on her fine ornaments, as she receives with delight the beautiful and fragrant nosegays that are offered to her, so we are longing for the eight precepts, and wish for admittance into the assembly." They all promised to observe the rules of their new profession to the end of their lives. Yathaudara and Dzanapada-kaliani were among these converts. They all, owing to their former meritorious works, became subsequently Rahandas.
One of the new female converts seemed to have retained as yet a certain admiration of and fondness for her handsome features, and secretly prided herself on her beauty. Buddha, who quickly perceived the latent enemy lurking in the folds of her heart, resorted to the following expedient to correct her. On a certain day, when the proud and vain woman was in his presence, he created in an instant a consummate beauty, who as much exceeded her in perfection of form as the snow-white swan surpasses the black crow. Whilst she looked on this suddenly appearing rival with somewhat jealous eyes, Buddha caused the beauty of his creation to appear on a sudden very old, with a wrinkled face and an emaciated frame, and to exhibit on her person all the various and disgusting inroads which the most loathsome diseases make on the human body. The change acted as an electric shock on the young religious woman. When Gaudama perceived the change, and that she was so horrified at such a sight that she was nearly fainting, he said to her: "Behold, my daughter, the faithful foreshowing of what shall inevitably happen to that form you are so proud of." He had scarcely spoken those words, when she was instantly and for ever cured of her vanity.
Buddha left Wethalie and went on the Makula mountain, where he spent his sixth season. During his stay in that place thousands of people were converted and obtained the deliverance. At the end of that season, Buddha went to Radzagio, and stayed in the Weloowon monastery.
It was at that time that Kema, the first queen of King Pimpathara, proud of her rank, youth, and beauty, was at last converted. Up to that time she had obstinately refused to see Buddha and hear his doctrine. On a certain day, the queen went to visit a garden which was in the neighbourhood of the Weloowon grove. By a contrivance of the king, her husband, she was brought, almost against her will, into the presence of Buddha, who worked out the spiritual cure of her foolish vanity by a process similar to the one above mentioned. He caused a beautiful female of his creation to pass successively, in the queen's presence, through the various stages of old age, disease, and death. Her mind having been thus well prepared to hear his instructions, Buddha gave her a lengthened explanation of the miseries attending the body. It had the desirable effect to convert her in so perfect a manner that she entered into the current of perfection, and became Thautapan. After having obtained the consent of her lord, she was, upon her pressing solicitations, admitted into the religious order. She became a Rahanda, and among the female members of the assembly she ranked as the disciple of the right. Such a glorious charge was owing to her former merits.
On a certain day, a rich man of the country of Radzagio went to enjoy himself on the banks of the river Ganges. That man was not a disciple of Buddha, nor did he hold the doctrines of the opposite party. He steered a middle course between both doctrines, with a mind disposed, however, to embrace such opinions as should appear to him based on the best and strongest evidence. Chance offered him a favourable opportunity to acknowledge the superiority of Buddha over his opponents. He saw a log of sandal-wood floating on the stream, took it up, and had a beautiful patta made of it. When finished, he wrote upon it these words, "He who can fly in the air let him take it." The patta was raised on the top of a succession of hampers, tied together, and sixty cubits high. Some heretics living in the neighbourhood asked on successive occasions the rich man to get down the patta for them; he answered them that he would give it only to him who by flight could reach it. The head man of those heretics feigned to prepare himself to fly; but when he was extending his arms, and raising one of his feet, his disciples, according to a preconcerted plan, seized him, saying, "It is not becoming that you should exert yourself for such a trifle." But the wily rich man could not be thus deceived; he persisted in his former resolution, and for six days resisted all their entreaties. On the seventh day Maukalan happened to go to that place in search of his food. He was informed of all that had just happened. He was, moreover, told that the rich man and all his family would become disciples under him who could by flight possess himself of the sandal-wood patta. Maukalan was ready, for the glory of Buddha, to raise himself in the air, but his companion refused to allow him to do it, saying that such an easy work could easily be accomplished by one less advanced in merits. Maukalan agreed to his proposal. Whereupon entering into the fourth state of Dzan, his companion rose in the air, carrying with the toes of one of his feet an enormous rock three-quarters of a youdzana wide. The whole space between him and the bystanders appeared darkened. Every one was half dead with fear, lest, perhaps, it should fall over his head. Maukalan's companion had the rock split into two parts, and his person then appeared to the view of the assembled crowd. After having during a whole day exhibited such a mighty power, he caused the rock to fall on the place he had taken it from. The rich man bade him come down, fully satisfied with the display of such power. The sandal-wood patta was taken down, filled with the best rice, and presented to him. The Rahan received it and went back to his monastery. Many persons living at a distance from the place where the wonder had been exhibited, followed him to the monastery, begging him to show some other signs.
As they approached the monastery, Buddha hearing the noise, inquired what it was. He was informed of all the particulars of the event that had just taken place. He called the Rahan into his presence, took the patta, had it broken into pieces and reduced to dust.[5] He then forbade the Rahan ever to make such a display of his power.
The heretics soon heard of the prohibition issued by Gaudama to his disciples. They thought that no one would dare to match them in the display of wonders, and that they could easily ascertain their superiority over him. The ruler of Radzagio, hearing of this news, went to Buddha and inquired as to his motive for such a prohibition. Buddha told him that the prohibition regarded his disciples only, but not himself. The heretics, informed of this, said, "What will become of us? Gaudama himself will show signs." They held a council among themselves as to what was to be done. Gaudama told the king that in four months he would make a grand display of his miraculous power in the country of Thawattie, as it was in that place that all former Buddhas had in former ages showed signs. The heretics from that day never lost sight of Buddha for a moment; they followed him day and night. They gave orders that a large and extensive covered place should be prepared for them, where they might show their power and outshine that of the Rahan Gaudama. Buddha having said that he would select the spot where a white mango-tree stood for the scene of his miracles, the heretics caused the total destruction of all mango-trees in that direction.
On the full moon of Tabaong (February), Gaudama left Radzagio, attended by a large retinue of disciples. He went to preach in different parts. On the seventh of the waxing moon of Watso he entered the country of Thawattie. A gardener gave him by way of present a large mango fruit. Ananda prepared the fruit and Buddha ate it. When this was done, the stone was handed to Ananda with an injunction to plant it in a place prepared to receive it. When planted, Buddha washed his hands over it, and on a sudden there sprang up a beautiful white mango-tree, fifty cubits high, with large branches loaded with blossoms and fruits. To prevent its being destroyed, a guard was set near it by the king's order. Dismayed at such a wonderful sign, the heretics fled in every direction to conceal their shame and confusion. Their head man, named Pourana, took from a husbandman a large jar with a rope, tied up the vessel with one extremity of the rope, passed the other round his neck, and flinging first the jar and next himself into the river, where the water was very deep, he was drowned, and went to the lowest hell, called Awidzi.
Buddha created in the air an immense road, reaching east and west to the extremities of the world. When the sun began to verge towards the west, he thought the time had come to ascend to that road in the presence of an immense crowd, that covered an area of thirty-six youdzanas, and there make a display of his wonderful powers. He was on the point of crossing the threshold of the building that had been erected for him by the care of Nats, when a female convert, named Garamie, who had become an Anagam, came into his presence, and after the usual prostrations said to him, "Glorious Buddha, it is not necessary that you should take the trouble of working wonders; I, your servant, will do it." "What wonder will you work, my daughter, Garamie?" replied Buddha. "I will," said Garamie, "fill up the space with water, and plunging into the water in an eastern direction, I will come back, and reappear in the west like a water-fowl. On my appearance before the crowd they will ask, What is this water-fowl? And I will answer to them, that this water-fowl is Garamie, the daughter of the most excellent Buddha. This is the wonder I will accomplish. The heretics, on seeing it, will say to themselves, If such be the power of Garamie, how much greater and more wonderful must be that of Buddha himself?" "I know," said Buddha, "that you have such a power, but it is not for your sake that these crowds have been gathered together;" and he refused the solicited permission. Garamie said to herself, Buddha would not allow me to work this great wonder, but there is some one else that can do greater things than I; perhaps Buddha will not be so inflexible with them as he is with me. She then withdrew to a becoming place.
Buddha thought within himself, There are many among my disciples who can make a display of great wonders; it is meet that the crowds should be aware of it, and see how, with hearts stout as that of the lion, they are ready to perform the most wonderful feats. He said aloud, "Who are they that can do wonders? let them come forward." Many came into his presence with a lion-like boldness and a thundering voice, craving for the honour of displaying supernatural powers. Among them was a rich man, named Anatapein; a female child, called Tsera; a grown-up woman, and Maukalan. They volunteered their services to perform the most extraordinary wonders, in order both to frighten the heretics, and make them understand that, if such a power belonged to the disciples, what that of Buddha himself must be. But Buddha would not accept their proffered services, and said to them that the people had not been assembled there for their sake, but for his; and that to him alone was reserved the task of enrapturing the crowds by the great wonders he was preparing to show. Addressing Maukalan, he said to him that, being a Buddha, he could not leave to others the trouble of performing his own duty. In a former existence, when he was a bullock, he drew from a muddy place a heavily-laden cart, to save a Brahmin's property and rejoice his heart.
Buddha ascended to the immense road which he had created in the air in the presence of the crowd, that filled a place of eighteen youdzanas in breadth and twenty-four in length. These wonders which he was about to display were the result of his own wisdom, and could not be imitated by any one. He caused a stream of water to issue from the upper part of his body and flames of fire from the lower part, and on a sudden the reverse to take place; again fire issued from his right eye, and streams of water from his left eye, and so on from his nostrils, ears, right and left, in front and behind. The same wonder too happened in such a way that the streams of fire succeeded the streams of water, but without mingling with each other. Each stream in an upward direction reached the seats of Brahmas; each stream in a downward direction penetrated as far as hell; each in a horizontal direction reached the extremities of the world. From each of his hairs the same wonderful display feasted the astonished eyes of the assembled people. The six glories gushed, as it were, from every part of his body, and, made it appear resplendent beyond description. Having no one to converse with, he created a personage, who appeared to walk with him. Sometimes he sat down, while his companion was pacing along; and at other times he himself walked, whilst his interlocutor was either standing or sitting. All the while Buddha put to him questions which he readily answered, and in his turn replied to the interrogations that were made to him. At intervals Phra preached to the crowd, who were exceedingly rejoiced, and sung praises to him. According to their good dispositions, he expounded the various points of the law. The people who heard him and saw the wonderful works he performed, obtained the understanding of the four great principles.
Buddha, having completed the twofold work of preaching to the crowds, and exciting their respect and admiration by the most astonishing display of the most extraordinary miracles, began to think within himself as follows: To what place have all former Buddhas resorted after the display of signs, and spent the season? He saw by a stretch of his incomparable foresight that all of them had gone to the seat of Tawadeintha, in the Nats' country, to announce the perfect law to their mothers. He resolved to go thither too. With one step he reached the summit of the mountain Ugando, at a distance of 160,000 youdzanas, and another step carried him to the top of the Mienmo mountain. This was done without any effort on the part of Buddha. Those mountains lowered their summits to the very spot where he was standing, and rose up again to resume their lofty position. Buddha found himself brought almost instantaneously to the seat of Tawadeintha.[6] He took his position on the immense rock Pantukambala. When he lay extended there upon his tsiwaran, the huge mass on a sudden contracted itself to the very narrow dimensions of his dress.
The people who had seen Buddha, and who could not now descry him, found themselves in a state of bereavement, as if the sun and the moon had disappeared from the sky. They gave full vent to their cries and lamentations, saying: We are now deprived of the blessed presence of him who is the most excellent among the three sorts of beings, men, Nats, and Brahmas. Some said he has gone to this place; some replied, no, he has gone to that place. Many of the people, who had just arrived from different parts of the country, were exceedingly grieved, because they could not see him. They all repaired before Maukalan, to ascertain from him what place Buddha had gone to. Maukalan knew it, but he wished to leave to Anourouda the honour of satisfying their curiosity. The latter said to them that Buddha had gone to the seat of Tawadeintha to preach the law to his mother, and spend there one season on the rock of Pantukambala. He added, that he would be back in three months hence, on the day of the full moon of Thadin-kioot (October). They came to the spontaneous resolution to remain on that very spot, and not to return to their homes, until they had seen Buddha a second time. They erected temporary sheds; and, though the place was small for such a countless multitude, they managed to accommodate themselves in the best way they could. Previous to his departure, Buddha had enjoined on Maukalan to remain with the people and preach to them the law. Maukalan faithfully complied with the request, and during three consecutive months instructed the people, and answered all their questions. The rich man Anatapein fed the Rahans and the assembly abundantly during the whole time.