‘O Ānanda, I am now grown old, and full of years, and my journey is
drawing to its close; I have reached eighty years—my sum of days—and
just as a worn-out cart can only with much care be made to move along,
so my body can only be kept going with difficulty. It is only when I
become plunged in meditation that my body is at ease. In future be ye to
yourselves your own light, your own refuge; seek no other refuge. Hold
fast to the truth as your lamp. Hold fast to the truth as your refuge;
look not to any one but yourselves as a refuge’ (Mahā-parinibbāna-sutta
II. 32, 33).
Afterwards he gave a summary of every monk’s duties, thus:—‘Which then,
O monks, are the truths (=the seven jewels, p. 127) it behoves you to
spread abroad, out of pity for the world, for the good of gods and men?
They are: 1. the four earnest reflections (Smṛiti, Sati-paṭṭhāna, on the
impurities of the body, on the impermanence of the sensations, of the
thoughts, of the conditions of existence, p. 127); 2. the four right
exertions (Sammappadhāna, viz. to prevent demerit from arising, get rid
of it when arisen, produce merit, increase it); 3. the four paths to
supernatural power (Iddhi-pāda, viz. will, effort, thought, intense
thought); 4. the five forces (Pañća-bala, viz. faith, energy,
recollection, self-concentration, reason); 5. the proper use of the five
organs of sense; 6. the seven ‘limbs’ of knowledge (Bodhy-aṅga, viz.
recollection, investigation, energy, joy, serenity, concentration of
mind, equanimity); 7. the noble ‘eightfold path’ (p. 44). See
Mahā-parinibbāna III. 65.
Then shortly before his decease, he said, ‘It may be, Ānanda, that in
some of you the thought may arise:—The words of our Teacher are ended;
we have lost our Master. But it is not thus. The truths and the rules of
the Order, which I have taught and preached, let these be your teacher,
when I am gone’ (VI. 1).
‘Behold now, O monks, I exhort you:—Everything that cometh into being
passeth away; work out your own perfection with diligence’ (III. 66).
Not long after his last utterances the Buddha, who had before through
intense meditation attained Nirvāṇa or extinction of the fire of
desires, passed through the four stages of meditation (p. 209) till the
moment came for his Pari-nirvāṇa, whereby the fire of life also was
extinguished. A couch had been placed for him between two Ṡāl trees (p.
23), with the head towards the north. In sculptures he is represented as
lying on his right side at the moment of death, and images of him in
this position are highly venerated.
The chief men of Kuṡi-nagara burnt his body with the ceremonies usual at
the death of a Ćakravartin or Universal Ruler, which the Buddha claimed
to be.
Then his ashes were distributed among eight princes, who built Stūpas
over them (Buddha-vaṉsa 28).
A legend states that when the Buddha died there was an earthquake. Then
the gods Brahmā and Indra appeared and the latter exclaimed: ‘Transient
are all the elements of being; birth and decay are their nature; they
are born and dissolved; then only is happiness when they have ceased to
be’ (Mahā-p° VI. 16).
Contrast with Buddha’s last words the last words of Christ: ‘Father,
into Thy hands I commend my Spirit.’
A greater contrast than that presented by the account of the Buddha’s
death and the Gospel narrative of the death of Christ can scarcely be
imagined.
Of course as a result of discourses during forty-five years, a large
number were gathered into Gautama’s monastic Order. His first aim was
the founding of this Order, and his chief sermons were to his monks; but
he accepted all men and ultimately multitudes attached themselves to him
as lay-brethren (p. 87).
In fact Gautama’s doctrine of a universal brotherhood, open to all,
constituted the corner-stone of his popularity. He spoke to them in
their own provincial dialect, which could not have differed much from
the Pāli of the texts—and he enforced his words by dialogues, parables,
fables, reiterations, and repetitions. Probably he was the first
introducer of real preaching into India, and by his practical method he
seemed to bring down knowledge from the clouds to every man’s door.
The following parable is an example: ‘As the peasant sows the seed but
cannot say: the grain shall swell to-day, to-morrow germinate, so also
it is with the disciple; he must obey the precepts, practise meditation,
study the doctrine; he cannot say to-day or to-morrow, I shall be
delivered. Again: as when a herd of deer lives in a forest a man comes
who opens for them a false path and the deer suffer hurt; and another
comes who opens a safe path and the deer thrive; so when men live among
pleasures the evil one comes and opens the false eightfold path. Then
comes the perfect one and opens the safe eightfold path of right belief,
etc.’ (p. 44, Oldenberg, 191, 192).
Six rival heretical teachers are alluded to. His chief opponent was his
cousin Devadatta, who set up a school of his own, and is said to have
plotted against the Buddha’s life. His efforts failed (Ćulla-vagga VII),
and he himself came to an untimely end. Possibly he may have belonged to
the rival Jaina sect (Nigaṇṭha) of naked ascetics, of which the great
leader was Vardhamāna Mahāvīra Nāta-putta (=Jñāti-putra).
Gautama’s teaching gained the day. It claimed universality, and was
aptly symbolized by a wheel rolling among all alike. Yet at first it had
no attractions for the poor and the child-like.
By degrees, a fuller system, adapted in an ascending scale to laymen,
novices, monks, nuns, and Arhats, was developed—a system which had its
abstruse doctrines suited to men of philosophical minds, as well as its
plain practical side. This constituted the Buddhist Dharma, which was
ultimately collected in certain sacred books to be next described.
LECTURE III.
_The Law (Dharma) and Sacred Scriptures of Buddhism._
Probably most educated persons are aware that Buddhists have their own
sacred scriptures, like Hindūs, Pārsīs, Confucianists, Muhammadans,
Jews, and Christians. It is not, however, so generally known that in one
important particular these Buddhist scriptures, constituting the
Tri-piṭaka (p. 61), differ wholly from other sacred books. They lay no
claim to supernatural inspiration. Whatever doctrine is found in them
was believed to be purely human—that is, was held to be the product of
man’s own natural faculties working naturally.
The Tri-piṭaka was never like the Veda of the Brāhmans, believed to be
the very ‘breath of God’[19]; the same care, therefore, was not taken to
preserve every sound; and when at last it was written down the result
was a more scholastic production than the Veda.
Moreover, it was not composed in the Sanskṛit of the Veda and Ṡāstras—in
the sacred language, the very grammar and alphabet of which were
supposed to come from heaven—but in the vernacular of the part of India
in which Buddhism flourished. Indeed, it is a significant fact that
while the great sages of Sanskṛit literature and philosophy, such as
Vyāsa, Kumārila, and Ṡaṅkara, in all probability spoke and taught in
Sanskṛit[20], the Founder of Buddhism preferred to communicate his
precepts to the people in their own vernacular, afterwards called Pāli.
Nevertheless, he never composed a single book of his own. In all
probability he never wrote down any of his own precepts; for if writing
was then invented, it was little practised, through the absence of
suitable materials. This is the more remarkable as Buddhism ultimately
became an instrument for introducing literary culture among uncivilized
races.
All that Gautama did was to preach his Dharma, ‘Law,’ during forty-five
years of itineration, and oral teaching. It was not till some time after
his death that his sayings were collected (p. 97), and still longer
before they were written down. Itineration, recitation of the Law, and
preaching were the chief instruments for the propagation of Buddhism.
At present the Buddhist Canon is about as extensive as the
Brāhmanical[21], and in both cases we are left in doubt as to the date
when the books were composed. How, then, did their composition take
place?
All that can be said is that at three successive epochs after the
Buddha’s death, three gatherings of his followers were held for the
purpose of collecting his sayings and settling the true Canon, and that
a fourth assembly took place much later in the North.
The first of these assemblages can scarcely with any fitness be called a
Council. Nor can the fact of its meeting together in any formal manner
be established on any trustworthy historical basis. It is said that a
number of monks (about five hundred, called Mahā-sthavirāḥ, ‘the great
elders,’ Pāli Mahā-therā) assembled in a cave called Sattapaṇṇi, near
the then capital city of Magadha—Rāja-gṛiha, now Rāj-gīr—under the
sanction of king Ajāta-ṡatru, during the rainy season immediately
succeeding the death of Gautama, to think over, put together, and
arrange the sayings of their Master, but not, so far as we know, to
write them down.
There, in all likelihood, they made the first step towards a methodical
arrangement. But even then it is doubtful whether any systematic
collections were composed. The assembled monks chose Kāṡyapa (or
Mahā-kāṡyapa, p. 47), the most esteemed of all the Buddha’s surviving
disciples, as their leader, and chanted the Thera-vāda (Sthavira-v°),
‘words of the elders,’ or precepts of their Founder preserved in the
memory of the older men; the rules of discipline (Vinaya) being recited
by Upāli[22], and the ethical precepts (Sūtra), which constituted at
first the principal Dharma[23] (_par excellence_, in contradistinction
to the Vinaya), being imparted by Gautama’s favorite Ānanda (p. 47);
while the philosophical doctrines—then undeveloped—were communicated by
the president, Kāṡyapa. If any arrangement was then made it was probably
in two collections—the Vinaya and Dharma (say about 400 B.C.)
In regard to the Dharma, two main lines were, in all likelihood, laid
down as the basis of all early teaching. The first consisted of the four
sublime verities, as they are called—that is, of the four fundamental
truths originally taught by the Founder of Buddhism, namely, the
inevitable inherence of suffering in every form of life, the connexion
of all suffering with indulgence of desires, especially with craving for
continuity of existence, the possibility of the cessation of suffering
by restraining lusts and desires, and the eightfold course leading to
that cessation (see p. 44).
The second line of doctrine probably consisted of an outline of the
twelve-linked chain of causality (nidāna), which traced back all
suffering to a still deeper origin than mere lusts and desires—namely,
to ignorance (p. 103).
It is not, however, at all likely that any philosophical or metaphysical
doctrines were clearly and methodically formulated at the earliest
assembly which took place soon after Gautama’s death. It is far more
probable that the first outcome of the gathering together of the
Buddha’s disciples was simply the enforcing of some strict rules of
discipline for the Order of monks, and this may have taken place soon
after 400 B.C.
After a time, certain relaxations of these rules or unauthorized
departures from them (ten in number, such as reception of money-gifts,
eating a second meal in the afternoon, drinking stimulating beverages,
if pure as water in appearance[24]), began to be common. The question as
to whether liberty should be allowed in these points, _especially in the
first_, shook the very foundations of the community. In fact the whole
society became split up into two contending parties, the strict and the
lax, and a second Council became necessary for the restoration of order.
All ten points were discussed at this Council, said to have consisted of
700 monks and held at Vaiṡālī (Vesālī, now Besārh), 27 miles north of
Patnā, about 380 B.C.[25] The discussions were protracted for eight
months, and all the ten unlawful relaxations were finally prohibited.
It has been observed that this second Council stands in a relation to
Buddhism very similar to that which the Council of Nicæa bears to
Christianity.
The exact date, however, of either the first or second assemblies cannot
be determined with precision.
Not long afterwards occurred the political revolution caused by the
well-known Ćandra-gupta (= Sandra-kottus)—sometimes called the first
Aṡoka (or disparagingly, Kālāṡoka). This man, who was a low-born Ṡūdra,
usurped the throne and founded the Maurya dynasty, after killing king
Nanda and taking possession of Pāṭaliputra (or Palibothra, now Patnā,
the then metropolis of Magadha or Behār), about 315 B.C. He extended the
kingdom of Magadha over all Hindūstān, and became so powerful that when
Alexander’s successor, Seleukos Nikator (whose reign commenced about 312
B.C.), invaded India from his kingdom of Bactria, so effectual was the
resistance offered by Ćandra-gupta, that the Greek thought it politic to
form an alliance with the Hindū king, and sent his own countryman,
Megasthenes, as an ambassador to reside at his court.
To this circumstance we owe the earliest authentic account of Indian
customs and usages, by an intelligent observer who was not a native; and
Megasthenes’ narrative, preserved by Strabo, furnishes a basis on which
a fair inference may be founded that Brāhmanism and Buddhism existed
side by side in India on amicable terms in the fourth and third
centuries B.C. There is even ground for believing that king Ćandra-gupta
himself favoured the Buddhists, though outwardly he never renounced his
faith in Brāhmanism.
Ćandra-gupta’s reign is thought to have lasted until 291 B.C., and that
of his son and successor, Vindusāra, from 291 to (say) about 260 B.C.
Then came Ćandra-gupta’s grandson, the celebrated Aṡoka (sometimes
called Dharmāṡoka), who, though of Ṡūdra origin, was perhaps the
greatest Hindū monarch of India.
It was about this period that Gautama Buddha’s followers began to
develope his doctrines, and to make additions to them in such a way that
the Abhi-dharma or ‘further Dharma’ had to be added to the Ṡūtra which
constituted the original Dharma (p. 56). Even in Gautama’s time there
were great dissensions. Afterwards differences of opinion increased, so
that before long eighteen schools of schismatic thought (p. 158) were
established. The resulting controversies were very disturbing, and a
third Council became necessary. It consisted of a thousand oldest
members of the Order, and was held in the 16th or 17th year of Aṡoka’s
reign at Patnā (Pāṭali-putra), about 244-242 B.C.
This third Council was, perhaps, the most important; for through its
deliberations the decision was arrived at to propagate Buddhism by
missions. Hence missionaries, supported by king Aṡoka (see p. 66), were
sent in all directions; the first being Mahinda (Mahendra), the king’s
son, who carried the doctrine into Ceylon.
Dr. Oldenberg has shown that in a part of the Tri-piṭaka now extant, the
first and second Councils are mentioned but not the third. The plain
inference is that the portion of the Buddhist Canon in which the second
Council is described cannot be older than that Council. Yet in all
likelihood a great part of the Vinaya (including the Pātimokkha and the
Khandhaka, p. 62) was composed before the second Council—possibly as
early as about 400 B.C.—and the rest of the Canon during the succeeding
century and a half before the third Council—that is, from 400 to 250
B.C. It was composed in the then vernacular language of Magadha
(Māgadhī), where all three Councils were held.
It seems, however, probable that in each district to which Buddhism
spread the doctrine of its founder was taught in the peculiar dialect
understood by the inhabitants. It even appears likely that when Gautama
himself lived in Kosala (Oudh) he preached in the dialect of that
province just as he taught in Māgadhī when he resided in Magadha. The
Ćulla-vagga (V. 33. I) makes him direct that his precepts should be
learnt by every convert in the provincial dialect, which doubtless
varied slightly everywhere. In time it became necessary to give fixity
to the sacred texts, and the form they finally assumed may have
represented the prevalent dialect of the time, and not necessarily the
original Māgadhī Prākṛit[26]. This final form of the language was called
Pāli[27] (or Tanti), and no doubt differs from the earlier Aṡoka
inscription dialect, and from Māgadhī Prākṛit as now known.
Some think that the Pāli resulted from an artificial infusion of
Sanskṛit. It is said that nearly two-fifths of the Pāli vocabulary
consists of unmodified Sanskṛit.
At any rate, it was in this language that the Buddhist Law was carried
(probably by Mahendra) into Ceylon, and the whole Canon is thought by
some to have been handed down orally till it was written down there
about 85 B.C. Oral transmission, we know, was common in India, but if
edicts were written by Aṡoka (p. 67), why should not the Law have been
written down also?
As, however, Pāli was not spoken in Ceylon, the Pāli commentaries
brought by Mahendra were translated by him into Sinhalese, and the Pāli
originals being lost, were not retranslated into Pāli till about the
beginning of the fifth century of our era.
Turning next to the final arrangement of the Pāli Canon, we find that it
resolved itself into three collections (called Tri-piṭaka, Pāli
Tipiṭaka, ‘Three baskets,’ the word piṭaka, however, not occurring in
the early texts), namely: 1. Yinaya, ‘discipline’ for the Order; 2.
Sūtra-(Pāli Sutta), ‘precepts,’ which at first constituted the principal
Dharma, or moral Law (p. 56); 3. Abhi-dharma (Abhi-dhamma), ‘further
Dharma,’ or additional precepts relative to the law and philosophy.
This division was not logical, as each collection may treat of the
subjects belonging to the others.
Taking, then, in the first place, the Vinaya or discipline portion of
the Buddhist bible, we ought to observe that a portion of it (the
Pātimokkha) is not only the oldest, but also the most important in its
bearing on the whole theory of Buddhism. For, as we shall point out more
fully hereafter, the Buddha’s paramount aim was to convince others that
to get rid of ignorance, gain knowledge, practise morality, and obtain
deliverance, it was incumbent on a wise man to renounce married life and
become a member of a monastic Order.
Pure Buddhism, in fact, was pure monachism—implying celibacy, poverty,
and mendicancy—and this could not be maintained without rules for
discipline and outward conduct, which, as adopted by the Buddha, were
simply a modification of the rules for the two religious orders of the
Brahma-ćārī and Sannyāsī, already existing in Brāhmanism.
With regard to the classification of the Vinaya rules, they were divided
into three sets: _a._ the Khandhaka, in two collections called
Mahā-vagga (Mahā-varga), ‘great section,’ and Ćulla-vagga, ‘minor
section’ (vagga = varga); _b._ the Vibhaṅga (including the two works
called Pārājika and Pāćittiya), or a systematic arrangement and
explanation of certain ancient ‘release-precepts’ (pratimoksha-sūtra,
Pāli Pātimokkha) for setting free, through penances, any who had
offended against the Order; _c._ Parivāra-pāṭha, or a comparatively
modern summary of the above two divisions.
Mark, however, that the Vinaya abounds in details of the life and
teaching of Gautama.
The second Piṭaka, called Sutta (Sūtra), ‘precepts,’ contains the
ethical doctrines which at first constituted the whole Buddhist Law. It
consists of five Nikāyas, or collections, viz. _a._ the Dīgha, or
collection of 34 long suttas, among which is the Mahā-parinibbāna-sutta
(one of the oldest parts of the Canon after the Pātimokkha); _b._ the
Majjhima, or collection of 152 suttas of middling length; _c._ the
Saṃyutta, or collection of 55 groups of joined suttas, some of them very
short; _d._ the Aṅguttara, or miscellaneous suttas in divisions, which
go on increasing by one (aṅga); _e._ the Khuddaka, or minor collection,
consisting of fifteen works.
According to one school, this fifth Nikāya is more correctly referred to
the Abhi-dhamma Piṭaka. In character, however, it conforms more to the
Sutta. Of its fifteen works, perhaps the most important are the
following six:—
The Khuddaka-pāṭha, ‘short readings;’ the Dhamma-pada, ‘precepts of the
Law’ (or ‘verses of the Law,’ or ‘footsteps of the Law’); the Jātaka
(with their commentaries), a series of stories relating to about 550[28]
previous births of the Buddha (p. 111), which have formed the basis of
many stories in the Pañća-tantra, fables of Æsop, etc.; the
Sutta-nipāta, ‘collection of discourses;’ the Thera-gāthā ( =
Sthavira-g°), ‘verses or stanzas by elder monks;’ Therī-gāthā, ‘verses
by elder nuns.’
The other nine are the Udāna, containing 82 short suttas and joyous
utterances of the Buddha at crises of his life; the Itivuttaka, ‘thus it
was said’ ( = ity ukta), 110 sayings of the Buddha; the Vimāna-vatthu,
on the mansions of the gods (which move about at will and sometimes
descend on earth); the Peta-vatthu ( = Preta-vastu, Peta standing for
Preta and Pitṛi), on departed spirits; the Niddesa, a commentary on the
Sutta-nipāta; the Paṭi-sambhidā, on the supernatural knowledge of
Arhats; the Apadāna (Sanskṛit Avadāna), ‘stories about the achievements’
of Arhats; the Buddha-vaṉsa, or history of the 24 preceding Buddhas (the
Dīgha mentions only six) and of Gautama; the Ćariyā-piṭaka, ‘treasury of
acts,’ giving stories based on the Jātakas, describing Gautama’s
acquisition of the ten transcendent virtues (p. 128) in former births.
The works included in this Sutta-piṭaka frequently take the form of
conversations on doctrine and morality, between Gautama, or one of his
chief disciples, and some inquirer. As constituting the ethical Dharma,
they are the most interesting portion of the Canon.
With regard to the third Piṭaka, called Abhi-dhamma (Abbhi-dharma,
‘further dharma’), which is held by modern scholars to be of later
origin and supplementary to the Sutta (p. 62), it contains seven prose
works[29]. Moreover, it was once thought to relate entirely to
metaphysics and philosophy; but this is now held to be an error, for all
seven works treat of a great variety of subjects, including discipline
and ethics. Metaphysical discussions occur, but it is probable that
originally Buddha kept clear of metaphysics (see p. 98).
Besides the numerous works we have thus described as constituting the
Tri-piṭaka or three collections of works of the Southern Buddhists,
there are the Pāli commentaries called Aṭṭha-kathā (Artha-kathā,
‘telling of meanings[30]’), which were translated into Sinhalese,
according to tradition, by Mahendra himself. Afterwards the original
Pāli text was lost and some of the commentaries were retranslated into
Pāli by Buddha-ghosha, ‘he who had the very voice of Buddha,’ at the end
of the fourth and beginning of the fifth century of our era.
The Mahā-vaṉṡa or ‘history of the great families of Ceylon,’ a
well-known work (written in Pāli by a monk named Mahā-nāma in the fifth
century and translated by Turnour), gives an account of this writer[31].
It says that a Brāhman youth, born near Buddha-Gayā in Magadha, had
achieved great celebrity as a disputant in Brāhmanical philosophy. This
youth was converted by a Buddhist sage in India, and induced to enter
the Buddhist monastic Order. He soon became renowned for his eloquence,
and was on that account called Buddha-ghosha. He wrote a commentary,
called Aṭṭha-sālinī, on the Dhamma-saṅgani, a work belonging to the
Abhi-dharma. He also wrote a most valuable Pāli compendium of Buddhist
doctrine called Visuddhi-magga, ‘path of purity,’ and a commentary on
the Dharma-pada containing many parables. He went to Ceylon about A.D.
430 for the purpose of retranslating the Sinhalese commentaries into
Pāli. His literary reputation stands very high in that island, and he
was instrumental in spreading Buddhism throughout Burma.
It may be noted that the two important Pāli works, Mahā-vaṉṡa and
Dīpa-vaṉṡa (Dvīpa-vaṉṡa), perhaps the oldest extant histories of Ceylon,
are also fairly authentic sources for Buddhistic history before Christ.
Turn we now to the Mahāyāna or ‘Great Vehicle.’ This cannot be said to
possess any true Canon distinct from the Tri-piṭaka, though certain
Nepalese Sanskṛit works, composed in later times, are held to be
canonical by Northern Buddhists.
To understand this part of the subject we must revert to the great king
Aṡoka. It is usual to call this second and more celebrated Aṡoka the
Constantine of Buddhism. Being of Ṡūdra origin he was the more inclined
to favour the popular teaching of Gautama, and, as he was the first king
who adopted Buddhism openly (about 257 B.C.) he doubtless did for
Buddhism very much what Constantine did for Christianity.
The Buddhist system then spread over the whole kingdom of Aṡoka, and
thence over other portions of India, and even to some outlying
countries. For gradually during this period most of the petty princes of
India, from Peshāwar and Kashmīr to the river Kistna, and from Surat to
Bengal and Orissa, if not actually brought under subjection to the king
of Magadha, were compelled to acknowledge his paramount authority.
This is proved by Aṡoka’s edicts, which are inscribed on rocks and stone
pillars[32] (the earliest dating from about 251 B.C.), and are found in
frontier districts separated from each other by enormous distances.
These inscriptions are of the greatest interest and value, as furnishing
the first authentic records of Indian history. They are written in a
more ancient language than the Pāli of Ceylon, and in at least three
different dialects. Ten of the most important are found on six rocks and
five pillars (Lāṭs), though numerous other monuments are scattered over
Northern India, from the Indian Ocean to the Bay of Bengal, from the
Vindhya range on the south to the Khaibar Pass on the north[33].
In these proclamations and edicts (one of which was addressed to the
third Buddhist Council), king Aṡoka, who calls himself Priya-darṡī (Pāli
Piya-dassī), issues various orders. He prohibits the slaughter of
animals for food or sacrifice, gives directions for what may be called
the first hospitals, i. e. for treating men and even animals medically,
appoints missionaries for the propagation of Buddhist doctrines,
inculcates peace and mercy, charity and toleration, morality and
self-denial, and what is still more remarkable, enjoins quinquennial
periods of national humiliation and confession of sins by all classes,
accompanied by a re-proclamation of the Buddha’s precepts. Aṡoka, in
fact, became so zealous a friend of Buddhism, that he is said to have
maintained 64,000 Buddhist monks in and around the country of Magadha,
which was on that account called the land of monasteries (Vihāra = the
modern Bihār or Behār).
No doubt it was Aṡoka’s propagation of Buddhism by missions in various
countries—where it came in contact with and partly adopted various
already existing indigenous faiths and superstitions—that led to the
ultimate separation of the Buddhist system into the two great divisions
of Southern and Northern.
Indeed, the formation of a Northern School, as distinct from a Southern,
became inevitable after the conversion of Kanishka, the Indo-Scythian
king of Kashmīr, who came from the North, and became a zealous Buddhist.
He probably reigned in the second half of the first century (A.D.), and
extended his dominions as far as Gujarāt, Sindh, and even Mathurā (see
p. 167, note 2).
It was during Kanishka’s reign that a fourth Council[34] was held at
Jālandhara in Kashmīr, under Pārṡva and Vasu-mitra. It consisted of 500
monks, who composed three Sanskṛit works of the nature of commentaries
(Upadeṡa, Vinaya-vibhāshā, Abhidharma-vibhāshā) on the three Pāli
Piṭakas. These were the earliest books of the Mahā-yāna or Northern
School, which afterwards formulated its more developed doctrines on the
Indus, while the Pāli Canon of the South represented the true doctrine
promulgated on the Ganges.
Kashmīr was a centre of Sanskṛit learning, and Kanishka, who was a
patron of it, became to Northern Buddhism what Aṡoka had been to
Southern. Hence in process of time other Northern Buddhist books were
written in Sanskṛit, with occasional Gāthās or stanzas in an irregular
dialect, half Sanskṛit, half Prākṛit.
It is usual to enumerate nine Nepalese canonical scriptures
(Dharmas):—1.Prajñā pāramitā, ‘transcendent knowledge,’ or an abstract
of metaphysical and mystic philosophy; 2. Gaṇḍa-vyūha; 3.
Daṡa-bhūmīṡ-vara (describing the ten stages leading to Buddhahood); 4.
Samādhi-rāja; 5. Laṅkāvatāra; 6. Saddharma-puṇḍarīka, ‘Lotus of the True
Law;’ 7. Tathāgaṭa-guhyaka (containing the secret Tantric doctrines); 8.
Lalita-vistara (giving a legendary life of Buddha); 9. Suvarṇa-prabhāsa.
The eighth is probably as old as the 2nd century of our era, and next
comes the sixth. Tibetan translations were made of all of them. These
extend to 100 volumes and are collectively called Ka’gyur or Kan’gyur
(Kanjur). We owe our knowledge of these to the indefatigable Hungarian
traveller, Alexander Csoma de Körös.
Copies of the Sanskrit works were brought to England by Mr. B. H.
Hodgson. The sixth has been translated by Burnouf and recently by H.
Kern. Dr. Rājendralāla-mitra has edited the eighth. As to the
non-canonical works M. Senart has edited part of the Mahā-vastu, and
Professor E. B. Cowell and Mr. R. A. Neil, the Divyāvadāna. They contain
interesting old legends—some about the achievements of Aṡoka, some about
Buddha himself, some perhaps from lost Vinaya books.
As to the Pāli written character, it is a question whether that current
in the holy land of Buddhism, or in Ceylon, or in Siam (Kambodia), or in
Burma—that is, Devanāgarī, Sinhalese, Kambodian, or Burmese—should be
used. Many think Burmese most suited to it, and in Europe the Roman
character is preferred.
It should be added that the recitation (Bhāṇa, Sanskṛit root Bhaṇ, ‘to
speak;’ in Sinhalese spelt Baṇa) of the Law is one of the principal
duties of monks, the reciter being called Bhāṇaka. A peculiar mode of
intoning is called Sara-bhañña (sara = svara). The Buddha, they say, is
not extinct, for he lives in the Dharma and in the Saṅgha, in the Law
and in the monks who recite it. Hence the importance of recitation in
the Buddhist system (p. 84).
LECTURE IV.
_The Saṅgha or Buddhist Order of Monks._
Perhaps the first point made clear by the study of the Buddhist
Scriptures is, that the Buddha never seriously thought of founding a new
system in direct opposition to Brāhmanism and caste. Even his Order or
fraternity of Monks, which attained a world-wide celebrity and spread
through a great part of Asia, was a mere imitation of an institution
already established in India. He himself was a Hindū of the Hindūs, and
he remained a Hindū to the end. His very name, Gautama, connected him
with one of the most celebrated Hindū sages, and was significant of his
original connexion with orthodox Brāhmanism. It is true he was a
determined opponent of all Brāhmanical sacerdotalism and ceremonialism,
and of all theories about the supernatural character of the Vedas (see
p. 53); but, being himself a Hindū, he never required his adherents to
make any formal renunciation of Hindūism, as if they had been converted
to an entirely new faith; just as, if I may say so with all reverence,
the Founder of the Christian Church, being Himself a Jew, never required
His followers to give up every Jewish usage.
Nor had the Buddha any idea of courting popularity as a champion of
social equality and denouncer of all distinctions of rank and ancient
traditions—a kind of Tribune of the people, whose mission was to protect
them from the tyranny of the upper classes.
There was, no doubt, at one time a prevalent opinion among scholars that
Gautama aimed at becoming a great social reformer. It was generally
supposed that he began by posing before his fellow-countrymen in a
somewhat _ad captandum_ manner as a popular leader and liberator, whose
mission was to deliver them from the tyranny of caste. But such an
opinion is now known to be based on mistaken assumptions. What ought
rather to be claimed for him is that he was the first to establish a
universal brotherhood (Saṅgha) of cœnobite monks, open to all persons of
all ranks. In other words, he was the first founder of what may be
called a kind of universal monastic communism (for Buddhist monks never,
as a rule, lived alone), and the first to affirm that true
enlightenment—the knowledge of the highest path leading to saintship—was
not confined to the Brāhmans, but open to all the members of all castes.
This was the only sense in which he abolished caste. His true followers,
however, constituted a caste of their own, distinguished from the laity.
From the want of a more suitable term we are forced to call them
‘monks[35].’
And this Order of monks was not a hierarchy. It had no ecclesiastical
organization under any centralized authority. Its first Head, Gautama,
appointed no successor. It was not the depository of theological
learning. Nor was it a mediatorial caste of priests, claiming to mediate
between earth and heaven. It ought not to be called a Church, and it had
no rite of ordination in the true sense. It was a brotherhood, in which
all were under certain obligations of celibacy, moral restraint,
fasting, poverty, itineration and confession to each other—all were
dominated by one idea, and pledged to the propagation of the one
doctrine, that all life was in itself misery, and to be got rid of by a
long course of discipline, as not worth living, whether on earth or in
heaven, whether in present or future bodies. The founding of a monastic
brotherhood of this kind which made personal extinction its final aim,
and might be co-extensive with the whole world, was the Buddha’s
principal object.
In point of fact, the so-called enlightenment of mind which entitled him
to Buddhahood, led him at the early stage of his career into no abstruse
or transcendental region of thought, but took a very practical
direction. It led him to see that an association of monks offering
equality of condition to high and low, rich and poor, and a haven of
refuge to all oppressed by the troubles of life, would soon become
popular. His Order started with first ten, then fifty, then sixty
original members (see p. 45), but its growth soon surpassed all
anticipations, and its ramifications extended to distant countries,
where, like the branches of the Indian fig-tree, they sent down roots to
form vigorous independent plants, even after the decay of the parent
stem. On this account it was called the fraternity of the four quarters
(Ćātuddisa, Mahā-vagga VIII. 27. 5) of the globe.
In brief, a carefully regulated monastic brotherhood, which opened its
arms to all comers of all ranks, and enforced on its members the duty of
extending its boundaries by itinerancy, and by constantly rolling onward
the wheel of the true doctrine (Law), constituted in its earliest days
the very essence, the very backbone of Buddhism, without which it could
never have been propagated, nor even have held its own.
But we repeat that in this, his main design, Gautama was after all no
innovator; no introducer of novel ideas.
Monachism had always been a favourite adjunct of the Brāhminanical
system, and respect for monastic life had taken deep root among the
people. Thus we find it laid down in its most authoritative exponent,
Manu’s Law-book (Book VI), that every twice-born man was bound to be
first an unmarried student (Brahma-ćārī), next a married householder,
and then at the end of a long life he was to abandon wife and family and
become a Sannyāsī, ‘ascetic,’ or Bhikshu, ‘mendicant,’ wandering from
door to door. In fact, it was through these very states of life that
Gautama himself, as a Kshatriya, was theoretically bound to have passed.
Hindū monks, therefore, were numerous before Buddhism. They belonged to
various sects, and took various vows of self-torture, of silence, of
fasting, of poverty, of mendicancy, of celibacy, of abandoning caste,
rank, wife and family. Accordingly they had various names. The Brāhman
was called a Sannyāsī, ‘one who gives up the world.’ Others were called
Vairāgī, ‘free from affections;’ Yogī, ‘seeking mystic union with the
Deity;’ Dig-ambara, ‘sky-clothed,’ ‘naked;’ Tapasvī, ‘practising
austerities;’ Yati, ‘restraining desires;’ Jitendriya, ‘conquering
passions;’ Ṡramaṇa, ‘undergoing discipline;’ Bhikshu, ‘living by alms;’
Nirgrantha, ‘without ties.’ Such names prove that asceticism was an
ancient institution. The peculiarity about Gautama’s teaching in regard
to monachism was that he discouraged[36] solitary asceticism, severe
austerities, and irrevocable vows, though he enjoined moral restraint in
celibate fraternities, conformity to rules of discipline, upright
conduct, and confession to each other.
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF MR. GAURĪ-ṠAṄKAR UDAY-ṠAṄKAR, C.S.I., NOW
SVĀMĪ ṠRĪ SAĆĆIDĀNANDA-SARASVATĪ.]
Seated, as a Brāhman Sannyāsī, in meditation (described at p. xiii of
the Preface).
His usual mode of designating his monks was by the old term Bhikshu
(Pāli Bhikkhu), ‘living by alms,’ to indicate their poverty. They were
also called Ṡrāmaṇera and Ṡramaṇa (Pāli Sāmaṇera, Samaṇa), as subject to
monastic discipline[37]. Those who entered the stream leading to
Arhatship (p. 132) were called Ārya.
The term Ṡrāvaka, ‘hearers,’ seems to have been used in the Hīna-yāna
system to denote great disciples only, and especially those ‘great
disciples’ (p. 47) of Gautama who heard the Law from his own lips, and
were afterwards called Sthaviras and became Arhats (p. 133). They had
also the title Āyushmat, ‘possessing life.’
We perceive again the close connexion between Brāhmanism and Buddhism;
for clearly the Brahma-ćārī and Sannyāsī of the one became the Ṡrāmaṇera
or junior monk, and Ṡramaṇa or senior monk of the other.
As to the name Ṡramaṇa (from root Ṡram, ‘to toil’), bear in mind that,
although Buddhism has acquired the credit of being the easiest religious
system in the world, and its monks are among the idlest of men—as having
no laborious ceremonies and no work to do for a livelihood—yet in
reality the carrying out of the great object of extinguishing lusts, and
so getting rid of the burden of repeated existences, was no sinecure if
earnestly undertaken. Nor was it possible for men to lead sedentary
lives, whose only mode of avoiding starvation was by house to house
itinerancy.
As to the form of admission, there was no great strictness in early
times, when all applicants were admitted without inquiry. It was only
when the Order increased that murderers, robbers, debtors, soldiers and
others in the King’s service, lepers, cripples, blind, one-eyed, deaf
and dumb, and consumptive persons, and all subject to fits were
rejected[38].
Originally it was enough for the Buddha to have said, ‘Come (ehi),
follow me.’ This alone conferred discipleship. In time, however, he
commissioned those he had himself admitted to admit others. Then the
form of admission to the brotherhood was divided into two stages, marked
by two ceremonies, which have been very unsuitably compared to our
ordination services for deacon and priest. At any rate the term
‘ordination’ is wholly misleading, if any idea of a priestly commission
or gift of spiritual powers be implied.
The youthful layman who desired admission to the first degree, or that
of a novice, had to be at least fifteen years old[39] (Mahā-v° I. 50);
and such novices had to be at least twenty (from conception) before the
second rite or admission to the full monkhood.
The first rite was called pravrajyā (pabbajjā), ‘going forth from home’
(Mahā-v° I. 12). Persons admitted to this first degree of monkhood were
called Ṡrāmaṇera (Sāmanera), ‘novices,’ though they were also called
‘new’ or ‘junior monks’ (Navako Bhikkhu). They might be admitted by a
senior monk without appearing before any formal conclave; but not
without the consent of their parents, and not without attaching
themselves to a religious teacher (upādhyāya) after their admission. It
is said that Gautama was urged by his father Ṡuddhodana to require the
sanction of parents, in rather touching and remarkable words, to the
following effect:—
‘The love for a son cuts into the cuticle (ćhavi); having cut into the
cuticle, it cuts into the inner skin (ćamma); having cut into the inner
skin, it cuts into the flesh; having cut into the flesh, it cuts into
the tendons (nhāru or nahāru); having cut into the tendons, it cuts into
the bones; having cut into the bones, it reaches the marrow
(aṭṭhi-miṅjā), and abides in the marrow. Let not Pabbajjā, therefore, be
performed on a son without his father’s and mother’s permission’
(Mahā-vagga I. 54).
The admission ceremony of a novice was extremely simple, and confined to
certain acts and words on the part of the candidate, witnessed by any
competent monk. The Saṅgha, as a body, took no part in it. The novice
first cut off his hair, put on three yellow ragged garments
(tri-ćīvara), adjusted the upper robe so as to leave the right shoulder
bare, and then before a monk repeated three times the three-refuge
formula:
‘I go for refuge to the Buddha (Buddhaṃ ṡaraṇaṃ gaććhāmi).’
‘I go for refuge to the Law (Dharmaṃ ṡaraṇaṃ gaććhāmi).’
‘I go for refuge to the Order (Saṅghaṃ ṡaraṇaṃ gaććhāmi).’
Very remarkably, this, the only prayer of true Buddhism, resembled the
Gāyatrī or sacred prayer of the Veda (repeated by the Brahma-ćārī) in
consisting of three times eight syllables. But if the Buddhist novice
had a right to the Brahma-ćārī’s sacred cord (upavīta), this was
probably abandoned on admission. He was then instructed in the Ten
Precepts (Dasa-sīla or sikkhā-pada), which were really ten prohibitions
(Mahā-vagga I. 56), requiring ten abstinences (veramaṇī):—
1. from destroying life (pāṇātipato = prāṇātipāta); 2. from taking
anything not given (adinnādāna); 3. from unchastity (abrahmaćariyā); 4.
from speaking falsely (musā-vāda = mṛishā-vāda); 5. from drinking strong
drinks (surā); 6. from eating at forbidden times (vikāla-bhojana); 7.
from dancing, singing, music, and worldly spectacles (visūka); 8. from
garlands, scents, unguents or ornaments; 9. from the use of a high or
broad bed; 10. from receiving gold or silver. The prohibition not to
receive money, even in return for religious teaching or any supposed
spiritual benefits conferred, was held to be most important, and was for
a long time obeyed, though in the end monasteries became owners of large
property and landed estates.
Of course the Upasampadā, or admission to full monkhood (described
Mahā-vagga I. 76), was a more formal ceremony. A conclave (Saṅgha) of at
least ten monks was required. The candidate had to appear before them,
but was first instructed by some competent and learned monk as to the
nature of the rite and the questions he would have to answer. This
instructor also directed him to choose some other monk competent to act
as his Upādhyāya (upajjhāya) or teacher for five years after his
admission, and made him provide himself with an alms-bowl and with the
usual yellow monkish vestments. Then his first instructor presented
himself before the conclave and informed them that the candidate was
ready to be admitted. Thereupon the novice came forward, adjusted his
upper garment so as to cover the left shoulder, bowed down before the
feet of the assembled monks, seated himself on the ground, and, raising
his joined hands, asked three times for admission to the full monkhood,
thus:—‘I entreat the Saṅgha for full monkhood (Upasampadā), have
compassion on me and uproot me (ullumpatu mām) from the world,’ repeated
thrice.
Thereupon he was questioned [not, as in our Ordination Service: ‘Are you
inwardly moved by the Holy Spirit to take upon you this office?’ Not:
‘Will you apply all your diligence to frame and fashion your own life
and that of your family so as to be wholesome examples?’ but] thus:—Are
you free from leprosy, boils, consumption, fits, etc. Are you a male?
Are you a free man and not in the royal service? Are you free from
debts? Have you the consent of your parents? Are you full twenty years
old? Have you an alms-bowl and vestments? What is your name? What is
your teacher’s name?
If the answers were satisfactory the candidate was admitted. After
admission no prayer was pronounced [such as in our Ordination Service:
‘We beseech Thee, merciful Father, send on Thy servant Thy heavenly
blessing that he may be clothed with righteousness’[40]]; but he was
informed that he was to trust to only four Resources (nissaya), and to
abstain from four chief forbidden acts (akaraṇīyāni). These four
Resources and four Prohibitions were then communicated to him thus:—
First the four Resources as follow:—(1) Broken morsels given in alms for
food; (2) Rags from a dust-heap for clothes; (3) Roots of trees for an
abode; (4) Liquid putrefying excreta of cows for medicine. Note,
however, that, in practice, indulgences (atirekha-lābha) were in all
four cases allowed; such as, better food when it happened to be given,
or when invited to dinner by rich laymen; linen, cotton, or woollen
garments, if dyed yellow and in three pieces (but only one change was
allowed); houses, huts, or caves to dwell in, when not itinerating;
ghee, honey, or molasses when out of health (Mahā-v° I. 30. 4).
Next the four chief Prohibitions (compare the Ten Prohibitions, p. 78),
viz.:—(1) Unchastity and sexual acts of any kind; (2) Taking anything
not given, even a blade of grass; (3) Killing any living thing, even an
ant, or worm, or plant; (4) Falsely claiming the extraordinary powers of
a perfected saint (uttarimanussa-dhamma. Mahā-v° I. 78. 2).
Clearly there were great temptations to gain celebrity by claiming such
powers, or else this fourth prohibition would not have terminated the
ceremony.
So soon as a man was admitted to full monkhood, he went through a five
years’ course of instruction in the entire doctrine and discipline,
under the preceptor (Upādhyāya, Āćārya) who had been previously chosen
and was required to be of at least ten years’ standing.
This was a modification of the Brāhmanical rule that a student
(Brahma-ćārī) should study under his preceptor for thirty-six years, or
less, until he knew the Veda.
The full Buddhist monk had in theory to dwell under trees or in huts
formed of leaves (pāṇ-sālā = paṇṇa-sāla = parṇa-ṡālā); but practically
he resided in collections of simple mud or brick tenements, in cells, or
in rows of caves hewn out of rocky hills. At any rate, collections of
monastic dwellings, called Vihāras[41], were his usual abode during
Vassa (or the rainy season, see p. 82); and at such times he had
fellow-monks (saddhivihārika) living in companies around him, or in the
same monastery.
Strict discipline was supposed to be enforced, and yet there was no
central authority, no Chief Hierarch, no Archbishop whom he was bound
‘reverently to obey.’
Offences against the four forbidden acts were called Pārājikā āpatti,
‘offences meriting expulsion from the community of monks (Saṅgha).’
Then there were thirteen Saṅghādisesā āpatti, as well as certain Dukkata
or less serious offences, requiring only confession before the Saṅgha,
and dealt with by a Saṅgha-kamma, or act of a conclave of monks imposing
some penance. There were penances (Prāyaṡ-ćitta) for lying,
prevarication, abusive language, destroying vegetable or animal life,
etc. (see Pātimokkha, Pāćittiyā dhammā, and pp. 62, 84). The following
practices were also incumbent on all monks:—
(1) The wearing vestments given by laymen (not purchased) and consisting
of three lengths of yellow-coloured rags; or, if entire lengths of
cotton cloths were given, the saleable value had to be destroyed by
tearing them into at least three pieces, and then sewing them together;
(2) The owning no possessions except the three cloths, a girdle, bowl,
razor, needle, and water-strainer to prevent the swallowing of
animalculæ; (3) The living only on food collected in a wooden bowl by
daily going from house to house, but without ever asking for it; (4) The
eating at mid-day the one meal so collected and at no other time; (5)
The fasting on four prescribed days; (6) The abiding in one spot for
three or four months during Vassa, ‘the rains’ (from middle of June to
middle of October), when itineration would involve trampling on
vegetable and insect life; (7) The refraining from a recumbent posture
under all circumstances; (8) The visiting cremation-grounds for
meditation on the corruption of the body.
In truth it might almost be said that in every movement and action, in
waking and sleeping, in dressing and undressing, in standing and
sitting, in going out and coming in, in fasting and eating, in speaking
and not speaking, the Buddhist monk had to submit to the most stringent
regulations.
It was a noteworthy feature in Buddhist monachism that monks were never
allowed to appear in public in a state of even semi-nudity. ‘Properly
clad,’ says the Sekhiyā dhammā (4), ‘must the monk itinerate.’ ‘Not
nakedness,’ says the Dhamma-pada (141), ‘can purify a mortal who has not
overcome desires.’ The monk’s three garments (tićīvara = tri-ćīvara)
were an inner one (antara-vāsaka), another wound about the thighs
(saṅghāṭī) and an upper robe (uttarāsaṅga) worn loosely and brought
round over the left shoulder. This constituted an important distinction
between the Buddhist monks and the Jaina and other naked ascetics whose
want of decency the Buddha condemned.
The Buddhist monk’s daily life probably began by meditation and by his
reciting or intoning (Bhāṇa, Sarabhañña) portions of the Law, or by
hearing it recited, followed perhaps by lessons in doctrine, or by
discussions or by confessions. Next came itineration for food, followed
by the one noon-day meal. Then came rest and further meditation and
recitation, while possibly the senior monks preached to laymen. Such
preaching took place especially during Vassa. In later times the daily
duties included offering flowers, etc., at sacred shrines, and repeating
so-called prayers, which were merely forms of words used as charms.
To illustrate the immensely meritorious efficacy of constant recitation
of the Law, a story is told of five hundred bats that lived in a cave
where two monks daily recited the Dharma. These bats gained such merit
by simply hearing the sound that when they died they were all re-born as
men and ultimately as gods.
Doubtless quarrels and faults of omission and commission occurred among
the monks, especially during their residence together in Vassa
(miscalled the Buddhist Lent). We read of six monks named Ćhabbaggiya
who were constantly committing offences. Hence a day called Pavāraṇā
(Pravāraṇā), ‘invitation,’ was kept at the end of Vassa, when all were
invited to assemble for confession and for felicitation, if harmony had
been preserved.
An important part of every monk’s duties was confession on Uposatha
(Upavasatha) or fast-days (miscalled the Buddhist sabbaths)—which were
kept at first on two days in each month, at full and new moon
(corresponding to the Darṡa and Paurṇamāsa days of Brāhmanism), and
afterwards also at the intermediate days of quarter-moon. On these four
Uposatha days the Pātimokkha or general confession (p. 62) was recited.
The confession was by monks to each other, not by laymen to monks,
though the four days were also observed by laymen, and we know that
Aṡoka enjoined periodical ceremonies, and expression of sorrow for sins
on the part of all his subjects. Such confession did not cause remission
of sin or absolution in our sense, but only release from evil
consequences by penances (p. 62).
We have learnt, then, that Buddhist monks were not under irrevocable
vows. They undertook to obey rules of discipline, but took no actual
vows—not even of obedience to a superior. Buddhist monkhood was purely
voluntary, so that all were free to come and go. It had nothing
hereditary about it like the rank of a Brāhman.
We have also learnt, that the term ‘priest’ is not suitably applied to
Buddhist monks. For true Buddhism has no ecclesiastical hierarchy, no
clergy, no priestly ordination; no divine revelation, no ceremonial
rites, no prayer, no worship in the proper sense of these terms. Each
man was a priest to himself in so far as he depended on himself alone
for internal sanctification.
Evidently, too, all Buddhist monks were integral parts of one organic
whole. It is true that in the end they were collected in various
monasteries, each of which practically became an independent Saṅgha
(each under one Head). But in theory all were parts of one and the same
brotherhood, which was republican and communistic in its constitution.
And this word Saṅgha cannot be correctly rendered by ‘church,’ if by
that term is meant an ecclesiastical body with legislative functions,
embracing clergy and _laity_ united in a common faith and under one
Head; for as founded by the Buddha, it was not this. It was simply a
vast fraternity intended to embrace all monks of the four quarters
(ćaturdiṡa) of the world, from the Buddha himself and the perfected
Arhat (p. 133), to every monk of the lowest degree, but not a single
layman. Indeed in its highest sense the Saṅgha comprised only true
Nirvāṇa-seeking monks who had entered the paths of true sanctification
(p. 132).
And here observe that, notwithstanding the stigma attached to unmarried
women in India, Gautama in the end permitted an Order of Nuns (Pāli
Bhikkhunī) and female novices (Sāmaṇerī, p. 47). The Ćulla-vagga (X. I.
3) relates how women were indebted to the intercession of a monk,
Gautama’s cousin Ānanda, for permission to form an Order, and how
Mahā-prajāpatī, the Buddha’s nurse (p. 24), became the first nun; yet
when Ānanda first asked: ‘How are we monks to behave when we see women?’
Gautama replied: ‘Don’t see them.’ ‘But if we should see them, what are
we to do?’ ‘Don’t speak to them.’ ‘But if they speak to us, what then?’
‘Let your thoughts be fixed in deep meditation’ (Sati upaṭṭhāpetabbā.
Mahā-parin° V. 23).
Clearly the Buddha was originally a misogynist as well as a misogamist,
and wished his followers to be misogynists also. Even when he had been
induced to admit the justice of the plea for women’s rights, he placed
his nuns under the direction of monks. They could only be admitted by
monks, and were subject to the male Order in all matters of discipline.
They were under eight special obligations, one of which was to rise up
in the presence of a monk, even if a novice.
The Buddha’s exhortation to the first nun is noteworthy:—‘Whatsoever, O
Gotamī (Mahā-prajāpatī), conduces to absence of passion, to absence of
pride, to wishing for little and not for much, to seclusion and not to
love of society, to earnest effort and not to indolence, to contentment
and not to querulousness, verily that is the true doctrine’ (Ćulla-v° X.
5).
It was certainly a great gain for a woman when she was permitted to
become a nun (or a Therī); for, as a nun, she could even attain
Arhatship. This is clearly laid down in Ćulla-vagga X. 1. 3. 4. No
woman, however, could attain to Buddhahood without being born as a man,
so that it could scarcely be said that in Buddha there is ‘neither male
nor female.’
Such, then, was the monachism which constituted the very pith and marrow
of Buddhism. All truly enlightened disciples of Buddha were monks or
nuns.
Let us not forget, however, that in practice Buddhism admitted
lay-brothers, lay-sisters, married householders and working-men, as
necessary adjuncts.
Yet they were only appendages. Of course the Buddha knew very well that
it was not possible to enforce celibacy on all his followers. He knew
that having prohibited his monks from making or taking money or holding
property, they would have to depend on lay-associates and householders
for food, clothing, and habitation, and that, if every layman were to
become a monk, there would be no work done, no food produced, no
children born, and in time no humanity—nay, no Buddhism—left.
Universal monkhood, in short, might have been a consummation to be aimed
at in some Utopia; but was practically unattainable. In fact Gautama had
to take the world as he found it, and the very idea of a world
perpetuating itself—according to his own theory of a constant succession
of birth, decay, and reproduction—implied that a youth, on reaching
manhood, married, had children, worked and earned a livelihood for their
support. He could not impose this burden on others.
Besides, the generality of people were in Gautama’s day what they are in
India now-a-days—bent on early marriage, and resolute in working hard
for a livelihood. Even Manu only enjoined celibacy on young religious
students and on old men, though there were occasional cases of perpetual
(naishṭhika) Brahma-ćārins.
Without doubt, celibacy in instances of extraordinary sanctity has
always commanded respect in India; but in no country of the world has
married life been so universally honoured. It is not very likely, then,
that the following sentiments, enunciated by the Buddha, could have met
with general approval:—
‘A wise man should avoid married life (abrahma-ćariyam) as if it were a
burning pit of live coals’ (Dhammika-Sutta 21).
‘Full of hindrances is married life, defiled by passion. How can one who
dwells at home live the higher life in all its purity?’ (Tevijja-Sutta
47).
And in reality Buddha’s anti-matrimonial doctrines _did_ excite
opposition. The people murmured and said, ‘He is come to bring
childlessness among us, and widowhood, and destruction of family-life.’
Indeed, the two facts—first, that the foundations of Buddhism were not
laid (as those of Christianity notably are), on the hallowed hearth of
home and on the sacred rock of family-life with its daily round of
honest work; and—secondly, that the precept enjoining monkhood and
abstinence from marriage was not combined with any organized
ecclesiastical hierarchy under a central government, are sufficient to
account for the circumstance that Buddhism never gained any real
stability in India.
No doubt lay-brethren were always welcomed; but they were bound to
Buddhism by very slender ties in regard to dogma, and were only expected
to conform to the simplest possible code of morality.
Probably the only form of admission for a layman was the repetition of
the 24 syllables of the three-refuge (tri-ṡaraṇa) formula:—‘I go for
refuge to the Buddha, his Law and his Order’ (p. 78). It was of course
understood that he was to abstain from the five gross sins (p. 126), but
he was already bound to do so by the rules of Hindū caste and
family-religion. The chief test of his Buddhism was his readiness to
serve the monks. It was for this reason, I think, that lay-adherents
were not called, as might have been expected, Ṡrāvakas, ‘Hearers,’ but
simply Upāsakas, ‘Servers,’ and in the case of women Upāsikās. They
could not be called disciples of Buddha in the _truest sense_, unless
they entered his monastic Order.
Of course the majority of Buddhist householders never cared to do this.
Their chief religion consisted in giving food and clothing, earned by
daily toil, to the monks[42]. If they failed in this, there was only one
punishment. They were forbidden the privilege of giving at all, and so
of accumulating a store of merit. No monk was allowed to ask them for a
single thing. Of course, too, the majority of Buddhist householders were
worldly-minded; they were no believers in ultra-pessimistic views of
life. They looked for a life in some heaven, not Nirvāṇa. Yet in theory
all laymen might enter the paths of sanctification (p. 132), and
thousands of earnest men are said to have done so[43].
A layman’s progress, however, towards Arhatship, except through monkhood
and abandoning the world, was almost hopelessly barred. At page 264 of
the Milinda-pañha it is implied that an earnest layman might become an
Arhat, even while still a layman, but he had either to enter monkhood or
else to pass away in Pari-nirvāṇa (p. 140) at the moment of becoming so.
The best proof of the truth of this view of the matter is, that after a
layman had attached himself to the Buddha, the Law, and the Order, he
was not required to undergo any initiatory ceremony, like baptism, or to
receive any stamp of membership, or to assume a peculiar dress, or to
give up all belief in his family religion, or caste-customs. In short,
he did not as a lay-brother break entirely with Hindūism.
That universal tolerance was of the very essence of Buddhism is
indicated by Aṡoka’s twelfth edict:—‘The beloved of the gods honours all
forms of religious faith—there ought to be reverence for one’s own faith
and no reviling of that of others.’ Compare p. 126.
Nor did Gautama himself ever set an example of intolerance. He never
railed at the Brāhmans. He treated them with respect, and taught others
to do so; and even adopted the title Brāhmaṇa for his own saints and
Arhats (Dhamma-pada 383-423).
What he opposed was priestcraft and superstition, not Brāhmanism; as
indeed other reformers had done before him. Probably the great
receptivity of Buddhism was one of the causes that led to its decay in
India.
Yet Gautama’s victory over one of the most inveterate propensities in
human nature—the tendency to seek salvation through a mediatorial caste
of priests—was a wonderful achievement. This is proved by the fact that
his followers in other countries became re-entangled in a network of
priestcraft, even more enslaving than that out of which he had rescued
them.
Koeppen, Rhys Davids, and other writers have well shown that the
Buddhism of Tibet, with its Pope-like grand Lāmas—its cardinals and
abbots, monks and mendicant friars, nuns and novices, canonized saints
and angelic hosts, temples and costly shrines, monasteries and
nunneries, images and pictures, altars and relics, robes and mitres,
rosaries and consecrated water, litanies and chants, processions and
pilgrimages, confessions and penances, bell-ringing and incense—is in
everything, except doctrine, almost a counterpart of the Romish system.
How little could the Buddha have foreseen such a development of his
brotherhood of monks, whose chief duties were meditation and
itineration!
And what is to be said of the present condition of the Buddhist
monkhood? Do we see anywhere evidences of that enlightenment of mind
which Buddhism claims as its chief characteristic?
When I was travelling in Ceylon, I met a few learned monks, but the
majority seemed to me idle, ignorant, and indifferent.
In Burma the monks are called Pungīs (Phongies), and are a little more
active. Every youth in Burma is supposed for a time to inhabit a
monastery.
In Tibet the monks are called Lāmas (a lower title being Gelong) and
constitute a large proportion of the population. They are slaves to
gross superstitions. Some are mere devil-charmers, a belief in the power
of evil spirits being the chief religion of the people.
In China the monks are called Ho-shang (or Ho-sang). They constitute the
only section of the population who have a right to be called Buddhists,
though, after all, they are mere pseudo-Buddhists. Professor Legge
informs me that he has known a few learned men among them, and learned
works have been written by them. But the general testimony of Europeans
in China is that the mass of the monks there are simply drones, or
aimless dreamers, who go through their repetitions by rote. Almost all
are conspicuous for apathy, inertness, and a vacant idiotic expression
of countenance.
Clearly we have in their condition an example of the fact that even
moral restraint, if carried to the extreme of extinguishing all the
natural affections and desires, must inevitably be followed by a
Nemesis. Surely we have in these monkish fraternities an illustration of
the truth that any transgression of the laws of nature, common-sense,
and reason—any suppression of the primary instincts of humanity, must in
the end incur the penalty attached to every violation of the eternal
ordinances of God.
LECTURE V.
_The Philosophical Doctrines of Buddhism._
One of the most noteworthy points in the early history of Buddhistic
thought is that while Gautama Buddha denied the existence of Brahmā as a
personal Creator, and repudiated the Veda and all Vedic sacrifices and
ceremonial observances, he at the same time made the philosophical
teaching of the Brāhmans the point of departure for his own peculiar
philosophical teaching.
Another noteworthy point is that while Buddhism was undoubtedly a
modification of philosophical Brāhmanism, the latter was also modified
by an interchange with Buddhistic ideas.
It may certainly be questioned whether Gautama himself, in the early
stages of his career, ever caused much offence to the most orthodox
Brāhmans by the free expression of his opinions. He did not spare either
his criticism or sarcasm, but it is well known that the Brāhmans were
not only tolerant of criticism; they were equally critical themselves,
and delighted in controversial discussions, as they do to this day.
In the Tevijja-Sutta an account is given of a discussion in which,
though Gautama expressed himself strongly, he does not seem to have
excited any wrath in his opponent—a Brāhman named Vāsettha.
The argument attributed to the Buddha is so remarkable that a portion of
it may be given here:—
‘Then you say, Vāsettha, that not one of the Brāhmans, or of their
teachers, or of their pupils, even up to the seventh generation, has
ever seen Brahman (the God of the Brāhmans) face to face. And that even
the Ṛishis of old, the utterers of the ancient verses, which the
Brāhmans of to-day so carefully intone and recite precisely as they have
been handed down—even they did not pretend to know or to have seen where
or whence or whither Brahman is. So that the Brāhmans versed in the
three Vedas have forsooth said thus: “To a state of union with that
which we know not and have not seen, we can show the way and can say:
‘This is the straight path, this is the direct way which leads him who
acts according to it, into a state of union with Brahman[44].’”
‘Now what think you, Vāsettha? Does it not follow, this being so, that
the talk of the Brāhmans, versed though they be in the three Vedas, is
foolish talk?
‘Verily, Vāsettha, that Brāhmans versed in the three Vedas should be
able to show the way to a state of union with that which they do not
know, neither have seen—such a condition of things has no existence.
‘As when a string of blind men are clinging one to the other, neither
can the foremost see, nor can the middle one see, nor can the hindmost
see, just so is the talk of the Brāhmans versed in the three Vedas[44].’
These no doubt were trenchant words, but it might easily be shown that
the Brāhmans themselves did not scruple to use almost as strong language
against their own revelation. For instance, the Ćhāndogya Upanishad (p.
473) speaks of the Veda as ‘mere name’ (nāma eva). The Bṛihadāraṇyaka
Upanishad declares that when a man is in a condition of knowledge, ‘the
gods are no gods to him, and the Veda no Veda;’ and the Muṇḍaka
describes the sacrificial Veda as inferior to Brahma-vidyā.
And in truth every Hindū was allowed to choose one of three ways of
securing his own salvation.
The first was ‘the way of works’ (Karma-mārga), that is to say, of
sacrifices (Yajña), of ceremonial rites, of lustral washings, penances
and pilgrimages, as enjoined in the Mantra and Brāhmaṇa portion of the
Veda, in Manu, the Law-books and parts of the Purāṇas.
The second was ‘the way of faith’ (bhakti), meaning by that term
devotion to one or other of certain commonly worshipped personal
deities,—a way leading in later times to the worship of Ṡiva and Vishṇu
(unfolded in the Purāṇas), and involving merely heart-devotion, without
sacrificial or ceremonial acts.
The third was ‘the way of knowledge’ (Jñāna), as set forth in the
Upanishads.
The mediæval Brāhman Kumārila—a really historical teacher—advocated the
first way; another teacher of less note, Ṡāṇḍilya, advocated the second;
another celebrated historical teacher, Ṡaṅkara, advocated the third.
Even in Gautama’s time any one of these ways or all three together might
be chosen, so long as the authority of the Brāhmans was not impugned.
This, at least, is the general teaching of the Bhagavad-gītā—an eclectic
work which is the most popular exponent of the Hindū creed[45].
Yet even the Author of the Bhagavad-gītā had a preference for the way of
knowledge. In one passage (II. 42) he describes the Veda as ‘mere
flowery doctrine’ (pushpitā vāć), and is careful to point out that works
must be performed as acts of devotion leading to absorption into the
Supreme (Brahma-nirvāṇam).
Indeed there can be no doubt that it was generally held by the Brāhmans
of Buddha’s time that the way of knowledge was the highest way. But this
way was not open to all. It was reserved for the privileged few—for the
more intellectual and philosophically-minded Brāhmans. The generality of
men had to content themselves with the first and second ways.
What the Buddha then did was this:—First he stretched out the right hand
of brotherhood to all mankind by inviting all without exception to join
his fraternity of celibate monks, which he wished to be co-extensive
with the world itself. Then he abolished the first and second ways of
salvation (p. 95), that is, Yajña, ‘sacrifices,’ and Bhakti, ‘devotion
to personal gods,’ and substituted for these meditation and moral
conduct as the only road to true knowledge and emancipation. And then,
lastly, he threw open this highest way of true knowledge to all who
wished to enter it, of whatever rank or caste or mental calibre they
might be, not excepting the most degraded.
Without doubt the distinguishing feature in the Buddha’s gospel was that
no living being, not even the lowest, was to be shut out from true
enlightenment.
And here it will be necessary to inquire more closely into the nature of
that knowledge which the Buddha thus made accessible to every creature
in the universe.
Was it some deep mystery? Some occult doctrine of physical or
metaphysical science? Some startling revelation of a law of nature never
before imparted to the world? Was the Buddha’s open way very different
from the old, well-fenced-off Brāhmanical way?
Of one point we may be certain. He was too sensible to cast aside all
ancient traditions. Nor was he a mere enthusiast claiming to be the sole
possessor of a new secret for regenerating society.
Unhappily, however, we are here met by a difficulty. The Buddha never,
like Muhammad, wrote a book, or, so far as we know, a line. He was the
Socrates of India, and we are obliged to trust to the record of his
sayings (see p. 38). Still we have no reason to doubt the genuineness of
what was for some time handed down orally in regard to the doctrines he
taught, and we are struck with the fact that Gautama called his own
knowledge _Bodhi_ (from _budh_, ‘to understand’), and not _Veda_ (from
_vid_, ‘to know’). Probably by doing so he wished to imply that his own
knowledge was attainable by all through their own intuitions, inner
consciousness, and self-enlightening intellect, and was to be
distinguished from _Veda_ or knowledge obtainable through the Brāhmans
alone, and by them through supernatural revelation only. Hence, too, he
gave to every being destined to become a Buddha the title Bodhi-sattva
(Bodhi-satta), ‘one having knowledge derived from _self-enlightening
intellect_ for his essence.’
But it should be noted, that even in the choice of a name derived from
the Sanskrit root _budh_, the Buddha only adopted the phraseology of the
Sāṅkhya philosophy and of the Brāhmaṇas. The Sāṅkhya system made Buddhi,
‘intellect,’ its great principle (Mahat), and the Ṡatapatha-brāhmaṇa
called a man who had attained to perfect knowledge of Self
prati-buddha[46]. It may be pointed out, too, that Manu (IV. 204) uses
the same root when he calls his wise man Budha.
Moreover, the doctrines which grew out of his own special knowledge
Gautama still called _Dharma_ (Dhamma), ‘law,’ using the very same term
employed by the Brāhmans—a term expressive of law in its most
comprehensive sense, as comprising under it the physical laws of the
Universe, as well as moral and social duties.
In what, then, did the Buddha’s Dharma differ from that of the Brāhmans?
One great distinction certainly was that it contained no esoteric
(rahasya) and metaphysical doctrines in regard to matter and spirit,
reserved for the privileged few; yet some of its root-ideas were after
all mere modifications of the Sāṅkhya, Yoga, and Vedānta systems of
philosophy. His way of knowledge, though it developed into many paths,
had the same point of departure. It was a knowledge of the truth, that
all life was merely one link in a series of successive existences, and
inseparably bound up with misery. Moreover as there were two causes of
that misery—lust and ignorance—so there were two cures.
The first cure was _the suppression of lust and desire_, especially of
all desire for continuity of existence.
The second cure was _the removal of ignorance_. Indeed Ignorance was,
according to Gautama, the first factor in the misery of life, and stands
first in his chain of causation (p. 102). Not, however, the Vedāntist’s
ignorance—not ignorance of the fact that man and the universe are
identical with God, but ignorance of the four truths of Buddhism (p.
43):—ignorance that all life is misery, and that the misery of life is
caused by indulging lusts, and will cease by suppressing them.
It would be easy to show how all Indian philosophy was a mere scheme for
getting rid of the bugbear of metempsychosis, and how common was the
doctrine that everything is for the worst in the worst of all possible
worlds. This was taught by the Brāhmans five centuries B.C., and
continued to be a thoroughly Hindū idea long after the disappearance of
Buddhism. Witness the following from the Maitrāyaṇi Upanishad:—
In this weak body, ever liable
To wrath, ambition, avarice, illusion,
To fear, grief, envy, hatred, separation
From those we hold most dear, association
With those we hate; continually exposed
To hunger, thirst, disease, decrepitude,
Emaciation, growth, decline and death,
What relish can there be for true enjoyment?