'Now the venerable [=A]nanda (Buddha's beloved disciple) went into the cloister-building, and stood leaning against the lintel of the door and weeping at the thought: "Alas! I remain still but a learner, one who has yet to work out his own perfection. And the Master is about to pass away from me—he who is so kind." Then the Blessed One called the brethren and said: "Where then, brethren, is [=A]nanda?" "The venerable [=A]nanda (they replied) has gone into the cloister-building and stands leaning against the lintel of the door, weeping." … And the Blessed One called a certain brother, and said "Go now, brother, and call [=A]nanda in my name and say, 'Brother [=A]nanda, thy Master calls for thee.'" "Even so, Lord," said that brother, and he went up to where [=A]nanda was, and said to the venerable [=A]nanda: "Brother [=A]nanda, thy Master calls for thee." "It is well, brother," said the venerable [=A]nanda, and he went to the place where Buddha was. And when he was come thither he bowed down before the Blessed One, and took his seat on one side. Then the Blessed One said to the venerable [=A]nanda, as he sat there by his side: "Enough, [=A]nanda, let not thyself be troubled; weep not. Have I not told thee already that we must divide ourselves from all that is nearest and dearest? How can it be possible that a being born to die should not die? For a long time, [=A]nanda, hast thou been very near to me by acts of love that is kind and good and never varies, and is beyond all measure. (This Buddha repeats three times.) Thou hast done well. Be earnest in effort. Thou, too, shalt soon be free." … When he had thus spoken, the venerable [=A]nanda said to the Blessed One: "Let not the Blessed One die in this little wattle and daub town, a town in the midst of the jungle, in this branch township. For, Lord, there are other great cities such as Benares (and others). Let the Blessed One die in one of them."'
This request is refused by Buddha. [=A]nanda then goes to the town and tells the citizens that Buddha is dying. 'Now, when they had heard this saying, they, With their young men and maidens and wives were grieved, and sad, and afflicted at heart. And some of them wept, dishevelling their hair, and stretched forth their arms, and wept, fell prostrate on the ground and rolled to and fro, in anguish at the thought "Too soon will the Blessed One die! Too soon will the Happy One pass away! Full soon will the Light of the world vanish away!"' … When Buddha is alone again with his disciples, 'then the Blessed One addressed the brethren and said "It may be, brethren, that there may be doubt or misgiving in the mind of some brother as to the Buddha, the truth, the path or the way. Inquire, brethren, freely. Do not have to reproach yourselves afterwards with this thought: 'Our Teacher was face to face with us, and we could not bring ourselves to inquire of the Blessed One when we were face to face with him.'" And when he had thus spoken they sat silent. Then (after repeating these words and receiving no reply) the Blessed One addressed the brethren and said, "It may be that you put no questions out of reverence for the Teacher. Let one friend communicate with another." And when he had thus spoken the brethren sat silent. And the venerable [=A]nanda said: "How wonderful a thing, Lord, and how marvellous. Verily, in this whole assembly, there is not one brother who has doubt or misgiving as to Buddha, the truth, the path or the way." Then Buddha said: "It is out of the fullness of thy faith that thou hast spoken, [=A]nanda. But I know it for certain." … Then the Blessed One addressed the brethren saying: "Behold, brethren, I exhort you saying, transitory are all component things; toil without ceasing." And these were the last words of Buddha.'
It is necessary here to make pause for a moment and survey the temporal and geographical circumstances of Buddha's life. His lifetime covered the period of greatest intellectual growth in Athens. If, as some think, the great book of doubt[24] was written by the Hebrew in 450, there would be in three lands, at least, about the same time the same earnestly scornful skepticism in regard to the worn-out teachings of the fathers. But at a time when, in Greece, the greatest minds were still veiling infidelity as best they could, in India atheism was already formulated.
It has been questioned, and the question has been answered both affirmatively and negatively, whether the climatic conditions of Buddha's home were in part responsible for the pessimistic tone of his philosophy. If one compare the geographical relation of Buddhism to Brahmanism and to Vedism respectively with a more familiar geography nearer home, he will be better able to judge in how far these conditions may have influenced the mental and religious tone. Taking Kabul and Kashmeer as the northern limit of the period of the Rig Veda, there are three geographical centres. The latitude of the Vedic poets corresponds to about the southern boundary of Tennessee and North Carolina. The entire tract covered by the southern migration to the time of Buddhism, extending from Kabul to a point that corresponds to Benares (35° is a little north of Kabul and 25° is a little south of Beh[=a]r), would be represented loosely in the United States by the difference between the northern line of Mississippi and Key West. The extent of Georgia about represents in latitude the Vedic province (35° to 30°), while Florida (30° to 25°) roughly shows the southern progress from the seat of old Brahmanism to the cradle of young Buddhism. These are the extreme limits of Vedism, Brahmanism and proto-Buddhism. South of this the country was known to Brahmanism only to be called savage, and not before the late S[=u]tras (c. 300 B.C.) is one brought as far south as Bombay in the West. The [=A]itareya Br[=a]hmana, which represents the old centre of Brahmanism around Delhi, knows of the [=A]ndhras, south of the God[=a]var[=i] river in the southeast (about the latitude of Bombay and Hayti), only as outer 'Barbarians.' It is quite conceivable that a race of hardy mountaineers, in shifting their home through generations from the hills of Georgia and Tennessee to the sub-tropical region of Key West (to Cuba), in the course of many centuries might become morally affected. But it seems to us, although the miasmatic plains of Bengal may perhaps present even a sharper contrast to the Vedic region than do Key West and Cuba to Georgia, that the climate in effecting a moral degradation (if pessimism be immoral) must have produced also the effect of mental debility. Now to our mind there is not the slightest proof for the asseveration, which has been repeated so often that it is accepted by many nowadays as a truism, that Buddhism or even post-Buddhistic literature shows any trace of mental decay.[25] There certainly is mental weakness in the Br[=a]hmanas, but these cannot all be accredited to the miasms of Bengal. They are the bones of a religion already dead, kept for instruction in a cabinet; dry, dusty, lifeless, but awful to the beholder and useful to the owner. Again, does Buddhism lose in the comparison from an intellectual point of view when set beside the mazy gropings of the Upanishads? We have shown that dogma was the base of primal pantheism; of real logic there is not a whit. We admire the spirit of the teachers in the Upanishads, but we have very little respect for the logical ability of any early Hindu teachers; that is to say, there is very little of it to admire. The doctors of the Upanishad philosophy were poets, not dialecticians. Poetry indeed waned in the extreme south, and no spirited or powerful literature ever was produced there, unless it was due to foreign influence, such as the religious poetry of Ramaism and the Tamil Sittars. But in secondary subtlety and in the marking of distinctions, in classifying and analyzing on dogmatic premises, as well as in the acceptance of hearsay truths as ultimate verities—we do not see any fundamental disparity in these regards between the mind of the Northwest and that of the Southeast; and what superficial difference exists goes to the credit of Buddhism. For if one must have dogma it is something to have system, and while precedent theosophy was based on the former it knew nothing of the latter. Moreover, in Buddhism there is a greater intellectual vigor than in any phase of Brahmanism (as distinct from Vedism). To cast off not only gods but soul, and more, to deny the moral efficacy of asceticism this was a leap into the void, to appreciate the daring of which one has but to read himself into the priestly literature of Buddha's rivals, both heterodox and orthodox. We see then in Buddhism neither a debauched moral type, nor a weakened intellectuality. The pessimism of Buddhism, so far as it concerns earth, is not only the same pessimism that underlies the religious motive of Brahmanic pantheism, but it is the same pessimism that pervades Christianity and even Hebraism. This world is a sorry place, living is suffering; do thou escape from it. The pleasures of life are vanity; do thou renounce them. "To die is gain," says the apostle; and the Preacher: "I have seen all the works that are done under the sun and behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit. He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. For what hath man of all his labor and of the vexation of his heart, wherein he hath laboured under the sun? For all his days are sorrows and his travail grief. That which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that a man hath no preeminence above a beast: for all is vanity. All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knoweth the spirit of man whether it goeth upward? I praised the dead which are already dead more than the living which are yet alive. The dead know not anything, their love and their hatred and their envy is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the sun. The wandering of the desire, this also is vanity."
The Preacher is a fairly good Buddhist.
If pessimism be the conviction that life on earth is not worth living, this view is shared alike by the greatest of earth's religions. If pessimism be the view that all beauty ends with life and that beyond it there is nothing for which it is worth while to live, then India has no parallel to this Homeric belief. If, however, pessimism mean that to have done with existence on earth is the best that can happen to a man, but that there is bliss beyond, then this is the opinion of Brahmanism, Jainism, and Christianity. Buddhism alone teaches that to live on earth is weariness, that there is no bliss beyond, and that one should yet be calm, pure, loving, and wise.
How could such a religion inspire enthusiasm? How could it send forth jubilant disciples to preach the gospel of joy? Yet did Buddhism do even this. Not less happy and blissful than were they that received the first comfort of pantheism were the apostles of Buddha. His progress was a triumph of gladness. They that believed in him rejoiced and hastened to their fellows with the good tidings. Was it then a new morality, a new ethical code, that thus inspired them? Let one but look at the vows and commandments respectively taken by and given to the Buddhist monk, and he will see that in Buddhism there is no new morality.
The Ten Vows are as follows:
I take the vow not to kill; not to steal; to abstain from impurity; not to lie; to abstain from intoxicating drinks which hinder progress and virtue; not to eat at forbidden times; to abstain from dancing, singing, music and stage plays; not to use garlands, scents, unguents, or ornaments; not to use a high or broad bed; not to receive gold or silver.
The Eight Commandments are as follows: