Ananda, after the prince’s departure, brought the two dresses to the great Phra, who put one on his shoulders, whilst the other was girded round his waist. His body appeared shining like a flame. Ananda was exceedingly surprised. Nothing of this kind had as yet happened. “Your exterior appearance,” said he to Buddha, “is at once white, shining, and beautiful above all expression.” “What you say, O Ananda, is perfectly true. There are two occasions when my body becomes extraordinarily beautiful and shining: the first was on the night I obtained the supreme intelligence; and the second now, when I am about to enter into the state of Neibban. Doubtless, O Ananda, on the morning after this very night, in a corner, near the Koutheinaron city, that belongs to the princes Malla, in the forest of sala-trees, I will go to Neibban. The shining light emanating from my body is the certain forerunner of this great event.”
Ananda, summoned by Buddha to his presence, received the order to move to the banks of the Kakouda stream.[11] Having reached the place, Buddha descended into the stream, bathed, and drank some water. Thence he directed his steps towards a grove of mango-trees. Ananda had remained to dry the bathing-robes of his master. Phra called the Rahan Tsanda, and directed him to fold in four his dugout, because he wished to rest. The order having been complied with, Buddha sat down, lying on his right side, with the solemn and fearless appearance of a lion. During his short sleep Tsanda watched by his side. Ananda soon came up. Buddha called him, and said, “The meal which the goldsmith’s son has prepared for me, which I have eaten, is my last meal. He is, forsooth, much grieved because of the illness that has come upon me after having eaten at his place.[12] Go now to him, and make him acquainted with the merits he has gained in making an offering to me. Two meals that I have taken during this existence are equally deserving of the greatest rewards. The first was the Nogana, served up to me a little while before I obtained first the Neibban of Kiletha, or the destruction of passions, and subsequently the supreme intelligence; the second is the one just offered to me by the goldsmith’s son, when I ate the dish of rice and pork. That is the last food I will ever take until I attain the state of Neibban, that is to say, the Neibban of Khandas, or the destruction of all the supports of existence. Both these meals were excellent, and are deserving of an equal reward; viz., beauty, a long life, happiness, a large crowd of attendants, the happiness of the Nats’ seats, and all sorts of honours and distinction. Such are the merits reserved to Tsonda, the son of the goldsmith; go and mention them to him, that his sorrow may be assuaged.” Gaudama uttered on this occasion the following stanzas:[13] “Alms-deeds can defend from and protect against the influence and the sources of demerits, which are man’s true enemies. He alone who is full of merits and wisdom shuns evil doings, puts an end to concupiscence, anger, and ignorance, and reaches Neibban.” Buddha, calling Ananda, said to him, “Let us now go to the bank of the river Hignarawati, in the forest of sala-trees belonging to the Malla princes.” Attended by a crowd of Rahans, he went to the bank of the stream. The forest was on a tongue of land, encircled on three sides by the river. “Ananda,” said Buddha, “you see those two lofty trees on the skirt of the wood; go and prepare a resting-place for me between those two trees, in such a way that, when reclining thereupon, my head should be turned towards the north. The couch must be arranged in such a manner that one extremity may be near one tree, and the other extremity close to the opposite tree. Ananda, I am much fatigued, and desire to rest.” Though Buddha’s strength was equal to that of a thousand koudes of black elephants, it forsook him almost entirely from the time he had eaten the dish of Tsonda’s rice and pork. Though the distance from the place of Pawa to the forest of sala-trees in the district of Koutheinaron is but three gawots, he was compelled to rest in traversing it twenty-five times, and it was by dint of great exertions that he reached the place after sunset. Four places along the road from Pawa to Koutheinaron became subsequently celebrated by the resort of many pilgrims who visited them.
[Remarks of the Burmese Translator.—It has been often asked why Phra allowed his body to experience fatigue. The reason of his conduct was to convey instruction to all men, and to make them fully prepared to bear pain and sickness. Should any one ask why Buddha exerted himself so much to go to Neibban in that particular place, it should be answered that Buddha saw three reasons for acting in the manner he did. 1st. To preach the great Soodathana. (This is the story of a prince called Maha Soudana, who ruled over the country of Kousawatti. At the conclusion Buddha declares that in that great prince the law of mutability has acted throughout his life with an irresistible force; while, as for himself, he now delights at being emancipated from its thraldom, and longs to be freed from the prison of his body.) 2d. To instruct Thoubat and lead him to perfection. 3d. To secure that the disputes that were to arise on account of the division and possession of his relics should be quieted by the Pounha Dauna, who would fairly and peaceably effectuate the partition of those sacred remains.]
Phra, having reached the couch, lay down on his right side with the noble composure and undaunted fearlessness of a lion.[14] The left leg was lying directly on the right one; but in order to avoid pain and the accompanying trouble, the situation of the two legs was such as to prevent the immediate contact of the two ankles and knees. The forest of sala-trees lies at the south-west of the city of Koutheinaron. Should any one wish to go to the city from the forest, he must first go due east, and then turn north. The place, therefore, where Phra stood was a tongue of land, surrounded on three sides by the river.
When Buddha was reclining on the couch, the two sala-trees became suddenly loaded with fragrant blossoms, which gently dropped above and all round his person, so as almost to cover it. Not only these two trees, but all those of that forest, and also those in ten thousand worlds, exhibited the same wonderful and graceful appearance. All the fruit-trees yielded out of season the best fruits they had ever produced; their beauty and flavour exceeded all that had ever been seen. The five kinds of lilies shot forth from the bosom of the earth, and from every plant and tree; they displayed to the astonished eyes the most ravishing sight. The mighty mountain of Hymawonta, which is three thousand youdzanas in extent, shone with all the richness of the colours of the peacock’s tail. The Nats, who watched over the two ingien or sala-trees, showered down without interruption the most fragrant flowers. From the seats of Nats, the flower Mandarawan, which grows on the banks of the lake Mandawan, and glitters like the purest gold, with leaves expanding like an umbrella, was showered down by the Nats, together with powder of sandal-wood and other odoriferous plants. The Nagas and Galongs, joining the Nats, brought from their respective seats all kinds of flowers and perfumes, which they let drop like dew over and about Buddha’s sacred person. Phra, seeing the wonderful display performed by men, Nats, Nagas, and Galongs, to do him honour, and hearing the sweet accents of Nats’ voices, singing his praises, called Ananda and said to him, “You witness all that display[15] which is intended to do me honour; it is not as yet worthy of me, who possess the knowledge of the most sublime law. No one can be my true follower, or accomplish the commands of the law, by such a vain and outward homage. Every Rahan or Rahaness, every believer, man or woman, who practises the excellent works leading to perfect happiness, these are the persons that render me a true homage, and present to me a most agreeable offering. The observance of the law alone entitles to the right of belonging to my religion. Ever remember this, O Ananda, and let every believer in my religion act up to it.”
Why did Buddha, on this last occasion, lay little stress on the offerings that were made, whilst on former occasions he had much extolled the innumerable merits to be derived from the making of offerings? The reason of his conduct was to give every one to understand that religion could not subsist unless by the practice of all the duties it commands, and that it would soon disappear were it supported only by alms-deeds, offerings, and other outward ceremonies. Alms-deeds are productive of great rewards, but the practice of virtue alone secures to religion a prolonged existence.
At that time an illustrious Rahaness, named Oupalawana,[16] at a single word from Buddha, lowered her fan and went to sit at a certain distance. Ananda, who had seen this Rahaness attending assiduously on Buddha’s person during more than twenty seasons, was surprised at seeing that, without any apparent reason, she had been desired on that occasion to withdraw to a distance. Phra, reading in the soul of Ananda his innermost thoughts, said to him, “Ananda, I am not displeased with Oupalawana; but her body being of a very large size, it prevents the myriads of Nats that have come from ten thousand worlds to see and contemplate me on this supreme moment. The Nats can see through the bodies of the generality of men, but this power falls short with persons much advanced in merits. I therefore desired her to remove a little far, that the Nats might not be angry at not seeing my person.”
Ananda put a great many questions to Buddha, which are related at full length in the Parinibana Thoots.
He asked him, among other topics, how the Rahans were to behave when women should resort to their monasteries.[17] “Ananda,” answered Buddha, “a Rahan, desirous to free himself from the sting of concupiscence and keep his heart firm and steady, ought to have his door shut, and never look at the women coming to the monastery or standing at the entrance; because through the eyes concupiscence finds its way into the heart, and shakes its firmest purposes.” “But,” replied Ananda, “what is to be done when they come over to bring food to the inmates of the monastery?” “Ananda,” said Buddha, “in such a case no conversation is to take place with them. Much safer and better it would be to hold conversation with a man who, sword in hand, would threaten to cut off our head, or with a female Biloo ready to devour us the moment we open the mouth to speak. By conversing with women, one becomes acquainted with them; acquaintance begets familiarity, kindles passion, leads to the loss of virtue, and precipitates into the four states of punishment. It is, therefore, most prudent not to have any conversation with them.” “What is to be done, O Buddha, in cases when women come to the monastery to hear religious instructions, to expose their doubts, to seek for spiritual advice, to learn the practice of religious duties, and render becomingly certain services to the Rahans? Should a Rahan be silent on such occasions, they will ridicule him and say, ‘This Rahan, forsooth, is deaf or too well fed; he therefore cannot speak.’” “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “when on such occasions a Rahan is obliged to speak, let him consider as mothers those who are old enough to be mothers, as elder sisters those who appear a little older than he, as younger sisters or children those that are younger than he. Never, O Ananda, forget these instructions.”