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.