The seventh class comprises the ways that lead to good and perfection. They are eight in number:—Perfect doctrine, intention, language, actions, regular mode of life, diligence, attention, and fixity in good.
A volume might be written upon these thirty-seven principles or points of moral philosophy, by way of comment and explanation; but we think it better to leave the reader to make his own reflections, and run at liberty over this broad field of metaphysics.
[11] The Kakouda stream was one of the arms or channels of the little Gundak. It is at present dried up, but up to this day are to be seen several marks indicating the ancient bed of that stream.
The river Hiranyawati is one of the channels of the little Gundak, which was flowing a little west of the city of Koutheinaron. The Gundak being very winding in its course, and the mass of water being sometimes very considerable, there is to be seen a great number of old channels, now dried up, or occasionally filled in the time when inundation is prevailing. For this reason, it becomes difficult in some instances to follow the Chinese pilgrim, Hwen Thsang, through his minute and accurate description of the places he has visited. The mounds of ruins which stud the ground may not be always correctly identified, because they are not at present, relatively to the river, in the same position as that mentioned in his interesting itinerary. However, there are here and there some remnants of the old channels which are sufficient to guide safely the sure and patient Government Archæological Surveyor, who now does so much, with the assistance derived from the books of the two Chinese pilgrims, to find out and identify on the spot most of the places and localities mentioned in the Buddhist writings. It is not a little surprising that we should have to acknowledge the fact that the voyages of two Chinese travellers, undertaken in the fifth and seventh centuries of our era, have done more to elucidate the history and geography of Buddhism in India, than all that has hitherto been found in the Sanscrit and Pali books of India and the neighbouring countries.
The young religious who is called Tsanda was the younger brother of Thariputra. He seems to have shared with Ananda the honour of attending on Buddha’s person.
The forest which was close to the vicinity of Koutheinaron was planted with trees which the Burmans call ingien, the Bengalies, sal. The latter name is evidently the Sanscrit and Pali appellation of the tree, which the Burmese author has retained but once or twice throughout the course of his work, and wrote Sala. It is the Shorea robusta.
The four laws of edeipat, which, in the opinion of Buddha, can confer to him who knows and possesses them the extraordinary privilege of an indefinitely prolonged existence, are, absolute power over the will, absolute power over the mind, absolute power of exertion, absolute power over the means to attain any object. How can a man, in the present state of existence, obtain the possession of such a power? The only way that a Buddhist has to account for it is the following:—A perfect being, having estranged himself from all passions, from matter and its concomitant influences, solely by the power and energy of his will, acquires a freedom from all impediments, an unbounded liberty of motion, and a lightness and swiftness which enable him to do all that he pleases. He is independent of the elements of this world, which can no more offer obstacles and resistance to his wishes. Several instances of something approaching to those wonderful attainments have been mentioned in the course of this work. We have seen how those much advanced in perfection could raise themselves very high, and travel through the air with an almost incredible velocity. This was but the beginning of far superior and transcendent qualifications obtained only by those that had made greater progress in science, in virtue, and in the renouncing of all things; in a word, by those who had mastered the four laws of edeipat.
Mahawon Kootagara means the hall of the upper story in the great forest. Not far from Wethalie there was a monastery of great celebrity, situated in a forest of sala-trees. It had, at least, an upper story, in which was the hall where Gaudama often preached to his disciples and to the people.
[12] The meal Buddha partook of in company with his disciples at Tsonda’s residence is the last repast he ever made. The violent distemper which followed immediately is not, says the author of the legend, to be attributed to the food he took on this occasion. On the contrary, that very food, owing to the virtue infused therein by the agency of Nats and Brahmas, was rather an antidote against the illness that was to come inevitably upon Phra’s person. Previous to the dissolution of his bodily frame, it was decreed that Buddha should suffer. No occurrence could ever cause or avert this tragical circumstance. He had foreseen it, and with perfect resignation submitted to what was absolutely to happen. In the early days of Buddhism, when a deadly antagonism with Brahminism began to fill the peninsula of Hindustan with endless disputes between the supporters of the rival systems, Brahmins, with a cutting sneer, insulted their opponents by reminding them that the founder of their creed, whom they so much revered and exalted, had died from the effects of his having indulged too much in pork. About twenty-two years ago, when the writer was in Burmah, he chanced to meet with a shrewd old Christian, who, by the way, was fonder of disputing about religion than paying regard to the practice thereof. He boasted of having at his command deadly weapons against Buddhists, and unanswerable arguments to bear with an irresistible force on the vital parts of their creed. The chief one, which he always brought forward with a Brahminical scorn and laugh, was that Gaudama had died from his having eaten pork. He always did it with so much mirth and wit that his poor ignorant adversaries were completely overawed and effectually silenced by his bold and positive assertion, and left to him uncontested the field of battle, and allowed him to carry away undisputed the palm of victory. This way of arguing may prove a very amusing one, but it can never be approved of, as error is never to be combated by another error or a false supposition. The Burmese translator was doubtless aware of the weak side offered to the attacks of malignant opponents by the unpleasant distemper that followed the last meal of Buddha. He strenuously labours to defend the character of his hero by proving, in the best way he can, that such a bodily disorder was necessarily to take place, in order to set in relief the patience, composure, and other sterling virtues of the founder of Buddhism. The text of the legend has been read over several times with the greatest attention, for the purpose of ascertaining the reasons put forward to account for such an occurrence, but the result has proved unsatisfactory. A thick veil wraps in complete obscurity this curious episode of Buddha’s life. All that can be said is this: it was preordained that Buddha should be visited with a most painful distemper ere he attained Neibban; and so it happened.
To prove that the eating of pork had nothing to do with the distemper that followed, we have the authority of Gaudama himself, who commended the delicacy and flavour of that dish, and placed it on the same footing with the delicious Nogana he ate on the morning of the day previous to his obtaining the Buddhaship. He desired his ever-faithful attendant, Ananda, to repair to Tsonda’s place, and explain to him the great rewards reserved to him for having made the offering of such an excellent food.