CHAPTER V.

_Thoodzata's offering to Phralaong -- His five dreams -- He

shapes his course towards the gniaong tree -- Miraculous

appearance of a throne -- Victory of Phralaong over Manh Nat --

His meditations during forty-nine days near the Bodi tree --

He at last obtains the perfect science -- He overcomes the

temptation directed against him by the daughters of Manh --

Buddha preaches the law to a Pounha and to two merchants._

At that time, in the solitude of Oorouwela, there lived in a village a

rich man, named Thena. He had a daughter named Thoodzata. Having

attained the years of puberty, she repaired to a place where there was a

gniaong tree, and made the following prayer to the Nat guardian of the

place[1]:--"If I marry a husband that will prove a suitable match, and

the first fruit of our union be a male child, I will spend annually in

alms deeds 100,000 pieces of silver, and make an offering at this spot."

Her prayer was heard, and its twofold object granted. When Phralaong

had ended the six years of his fasting and mortification, on the day of

the full moon of the month Katson, Thoodzata was preparing to make her

grateful offering to the Nat of the place. She had been keeping one

thousand cows in a place abounding with sweet vines; the milk of those

thousand was given to five hundred cows; these again fed with their own

milk two hundred and fifty others, and so on, in a diminishing

proportion, until it happened that sixteen cows fed eight others with

their milk. So these eight cows gave a milk, rich, sweet, and flavoured

beyond all description.

On the day of the full moon of Katson,[2] Thoodzata rose at an early

hour to make ready her offering, and disposed everything that the cows

should be simultaneously milked. When they were to be milked, the young

calves of their own accord kept at a distance; and as soon as the

vessels were brought near, the milk began to flow in streams from the

udders into the vessels. She took the milk and poured it into a large

caldron, set on the fire which she had herself kindled. The milk began

to boil; bubbles formed on the surface of the liquid, turned on the

right and sunk in, not a single drop being spilt out; no smoke arose

from the fireplace. Four kings of Nats watched about while the caldron

was boiling; the great Brahma kept open an umbrella over it; a Thagia

brought fuel and fed the fire. Other Nats, by their supernatural power,

infused honey into the milk, and communicated thereto a flavour, such as

the like is not to be found in the abode of men. On this occasion alone,

and on the day Phralaong entered the state of Neibban, the Nats infused

honey into his food. Wondering at the so many extraordinary signs which

she saw, Thoodzata called her female slave, named Sounama, related to

her all that she had observed, and directed her to go to the gniaong

tree, and clear the place where she intended to make her offering. The

servant, complying with her mistress' direction, soon arrived at the

foot of the tree.

On that very night Phralaong had had five dreams.[3] 1st, It appeared

to him that the earth was his sleeping place, with the Himawonta for his

pillow. His right hand rested on the western ocean, his left on the

eastern ocean, and his feet on the southern ocean. 2nd, A kind of grass,

named Tyria, appeared to grow out of his navel and reach to the skies.

3rd, Ants of a white appearance ascended from his feet to the knee and

covered his legs. 4th, Birds of varied colour and size appeared to come

from all directions and fall at his feet, when, on a sudden, they all

appeared white. 5th, It seemed to him that he was walking on a mountain

of filth, and that he passed over it without being in the least

contaminated.

Phralaong, awaking from his sleep, said to himself, after having

reflected for a while on those five dreams,--"Today I shall certainly

become a Buddha." Thereupon he rose instantly, washed his hands and

face, put on his dress, and quietly waited the break of day, to go out

in quest of his food. The moment being arrived to go out, he took up his

patta, and walked in the direction of the gniaong tree. The whole tree

was made shining by the rays which issued from his person; he rested

there for a while. At that very moment arrived Sounama, to clear,

according to her mistress' orders, the place for her offering. As she

approached, she saw Phralaong at the foot of the tree. The rays of light

which beamed out of his person were reflected on the tree, which

exhibited a most splendid and dazzling appearance. On observing this

wonder, Sounama said to herself: "Of course the Nat has come down from

the tree to receive the offering with his own hands." Overcome with an

unutterable joy, she immediately ran to her mistress and related her

adventure. Thoodzata was delighted at this occurrence, and wishing to

give a substantial proof of her gratitude for such good news, she said

to Sounama: "From this moment you are no more my servant; I adopt you

for my elder daughter." She gave her instantly all the ornaments

suitable to her new position. It is customary for all the Phralaongs to

be provided, on the day they are to become Buddha, with a gold cup of

an immense value. Thoodzata ordered a golden vessel to be brought, and

poured therein the nogana or boiled milk. As the water glides from the

leaf of the water-lily without leaving thereon any trace, so the nogana

slided from the pot into the golden cup and filled it up. She covered

this cup with another of the same precious metal, and wrapped up the

whole with a white cloth. She forthwith put on her finest dress, and,

becomingly attired, she carried the golden cup over her head; and with a

decent gravity walked towards the gniaong tree. Overwhelmed with joy at

seeing Phralaong, she reverentially advanced towards him, whom she

mistook for a Nat. When near him, she placed gently the golden vessel on

the ground, and offered him in a gold basin scented water to wash his

hands. At that moment, the earthen patta offered to Phralaong by the

Brahma Gatikara disappeared. Perceiving that his patta had disappeared,

he stretched forth his right hand, and washed it in the scented water;

at the same time Thoodzata presented to him the golden cup containing

the nogana. Having observed that she had caught the eyes of Phralaong,

she said to him: "My Lord Nat, I beg to offer you this food, together

with the vessel that contains it." Having respectfully bowed down to

him, she continued: "May your joy and happiness be as great as mine; may

you always delight in the happiest rest, ever surrounded by a great and

brilliant retinue." Making then the offering of the gold cup, worth

100,000 pieces of silver, with the same disinterestedness as if she had

given over only the dry leaf of a tree, she withdrew and returned to her

home with a heart overflowing with joy.

Phralaong rising up took with him the golden cup, and having turned to

the left of the gniaong tree, went to the bank of the river Neritzara,

to a place where more than 100,000 Buddhas had bathed, ere they obtained

the supreme intelligence. On the banks of that river is a bathing-place.

Having left on that spot his golden cup, he undressed himself, and

descended into the river. When he had bathed, he came out and put on his

yellow robe, which in shape and form resembled that of his predecessors.

He sat down, his face turned towards the east; his face resembled in

appearance a well-ripe palm-fruit. He divided his exquisite fruit into

forty-nine mouthfuls, which he ate entire, without mixing any water with

it. During forty-nine days he spent round the Bodi tree, Buddha never

bathed, nor took any food, nor experienced the least want. His

appearance and countenance remained unchanged; he spent the whole time

absorbed, as it were, in an uninterrupted meditation. Holding up in his

hands the empty golden vessel, Phralaong made the following prayer: "If

on this day I am to become a Buddha, let this cup float on the water and

ascend the stream." Whereupon he flung it into the stream, when, by the

power and influence of Phralaong's former good works, the vessel, gently

gliding towards the middle of the river, and then beating up the stream,

ascended it with the swiftness of a horse to the distance of eighty

cubits, when it stopped, sunk into a whirlpool, went down to the country

of Naga, and made a noise, on coming in contact with and striking

against the three vessels of the three last Buddhas, viz.: Kaukathan,

Gaunagong, and Kathaba. On hearing this unusual noise, the chief of

Nagas awoke from his sleep, and said: "How is this? yesterday, a Buddha

appeared in the world; today, again, there is another." And in more than

one hundred stanzas he sung praises to Buddha.

* * * * *

On the banks of the river Neritzara there is a grove of Sala trees,

whither Phralaong repaired to spend the day under their cooling shade.

In the evening he rose up and walked with the dignified and noble

bearing of a lion, in a road eight oothabas wide, made by the Nats, and

strewed with flowers, towards the gniaong tree. The Nats, Nagas, and

Galongs joined in singing praises to him, playing instruments, and

making offerings of the finest flowers and most exquisite perfumes,

brought from their own seats. The same rejoicings took place in ten

thousand other worlds. Whilst on his way towards the tree, he met with a

young man, just returning with a grass-load he had cut in the fields.

Foreseeing that Phralaong might require some portion of it for his use,

he presented him an offering of eight handfuls of grass, which were

willingly accepted.

Arrived close to the gniaong tree,[4] Phralaong stopped at the south of

the tree, his face turned towards the north, when, on a sudden, the

southern point of the globe seemed to lower down to the hell Awidzi, the

lowest of all, whilst the northern one appeared to reach the sky. Then

he said, "Verily this is not the place where I shall become a Buddha."

Thence Phralaong went on his right side towards the east of the tree,

and standing up, his face turned towards the west, he said, "This is

indeed the place where all the preceding Buddhas have obtained the

supreme intelligence. Here, too, is the very spot whereupon I shall

become a Buddha, and set up my throne." He took, by one of their

extremities, the eight handfuls of grass and scattered them on the

ground, when, on a sudden, there appeared emerging, as it were, from the

bottom of the earth, a throne fourteen cubits high, adorned with the

choicest sculptures and paintings, superior in perfection to all that

art could produce. Phralaong, then facing the east, uttered the

following imprecation: "If I am not destined to become a Buddha, may my

bones, veins, and skin remain on this throne, and my blood and flesh be

dried up." He then ascended the throne, with his back turned against the

tree, and his face towards the east. He sat down in a cross-legged

position, firmly resolved never to vacate the throne, ere he had become

a Buddha. Such firmness of purpose, which the combined elements could

not shake for a moment, no one ought to think of ever becoming possessed

of.

Whilst Phralaong was sitting on the throne in that cross-legged

position, Manh Nat said to himself, "I will not suffer Prince Theiddat

to overstep the boundaries of my empire." He summoned all his warriors

and shouted to them. On hearing their chief's voice, the warriors

gathered thick round his person. His countless followers in front, on

his right and on his left, reached to the distance of eighteen

youdzanas, and above him to that of nine only. Behind him, they extended

to the very limits of the world. The cries of that immense multitude

were re-echoed at a distance of ten thousand youdzanas, and resembled

the roaring of the mighty sea. Manh Nat rode the elephant Girimegala,

measuring in length five youdzanas. Supplied with one thousand right

arms, he wielded all sorts of the most deadly weapons. His countless

warriors, to avoid confusion, were all disposed in ranks, bearing their

respective armour. They appeared like immense clouds, slowly rolling on

and converging towards Phralaong.

At that time, Nats surrounded Phralaong, singing praises to him; the

chief Thagia was playing on his conch, whereof a single blowing resounds

for four entire months; the chief Naga was uttering stanzas in his

honour; a chief Brahma held over him the white umbrella. On the approach

of Manh Nat's army, they were all seized with an uncontrollable fear,

and fled to their respective places. The Naga dived into the bottom of

the earth, to a depth of five hundred youdzanas, and covering his face

with his two wings, fell into a deep sleep. The Thagia, swinging his

conch upon his shoulders, ran to the extremity of the world. The Brahma,

holding still the umbrella by the extremity of the handle, went up to

his own country. Phralaong was, therefore, left alone. Manh Nat, turning

to his followers, cried to them, "There is, indeed, no one equal to the

Prince Theiddat; let us not attack him in front, but let us assail him

from the north side."

At that moment, Phralaong, lifting his eyes, looked on his right, left,

and front, for the crowd of Nats, Brahmas, and Thagias that were paying

him their respects. But they had all disappeared. He saw the army of

Manh Nat coming thick upon him from the north, like a mighty storm.

"What!" said he, "is it against me alone that such a countless crowd of

warriors has been assembled? I have no one to help me, no father, no

brothers, no sisters, no friends, and no relatives. But I have with me

the ten great virtues which I have practised; the merits I have acquired

in the practice of these virtues will be my safeguard and protection;

these are my offensive and defensive weapons, and with them I will crush

down the great army of Manh." Whereupon he quietly remained meditating

upon the merits of the ten great virtues.

Whilst Phralaong was thus absorbed in meditation, Manh Nat began his

attack upon him. He caused a wind to blow with such an extraordinary

violence that it brought down the tops of mountains, though they were

one or two youdzanas thick. The trees of the forests were shattered to

atoms. But the virtue of Phralaong's merits preserved him from the

destructive storm. His tsiwaran itself was not agitated. Perceiving that

his first effort was useless, Manh caused a heavy rain to fall with such

violence that it tore the earth, and opened it to its very bottom. But

not even a single drop touched Phralaong's person. To this succeeded a

shower of rocks, accompanied with smoke and fire; but they were changed

into immense masses of flowers, which dropped at Buddha's feet. There

came afterwards another shower of swords, knives, and all kinds of

cutting weapons, emitting smoke and fire. They all fell powerless at the

feet of Phralaong. A storm of burning ashes and sand soon darkened the

atmosphere, but they fell in front of him like fragrant dust. Clouds of

mud succeeded, which fell like perfumes all round and over Phralaong.

Manh caused a thick darkness to fill the atmosphere, but to Phralaong it

emitted rays of the purest light. The enraged Manh cried to his

followers, "Why do you stand looking on? Rush at once upon him and

compel him to flee before me." Sitting on his huge elephant, and

brandishing his formidable weapons, Manh approached close to Phralaong

and said to him, "Theiddat, this throne is not made for you; vacate it

forthwith; it is my property." Phralaong calmly answered, "You have not

as yet practised the ten great virtues, nor gone through the five acts

of self-denial; you have never devoted your life to help others to

acquire merits; in a word, you have not yet done all the needful to

enable you to attain the supreme dignity of Phra. This throne,

therefore, cannot be yours." Unable to control any longer his passion,

Manh threw his formidable weapons at Phralaong; but they were converted

into garlands of beautiful flowers, that adapted themselves gracefully

round his body. His sword and other weapons, that could cut at once

through the hardest rocks, were employed with no better success. The

soldiers of Manh, hoping that their united efforts would have a better

result, and that they could thrust Phralaong from his throne, made a

sudden and simultaneous rush at him, rolling against him, with an

irresistible force, huge rocks, as large as mountains; but by the virtue

of their opponent's merits, they were converted into fine nosegays, that

gently dropped at his feet.

At that time the Nats, from their seats, looked down on the scene of the

combat, suspended between hope and fear. Phralaong at that moment said

to Manh: "How do you dare to pretend to the possession of this throne?

Could you ever prove, by indisputable evidence, that you have ever made

offerings enough to be deserving of this throne?" Manh, turning to his

followers, answered: "Here are my witnesses; they will all bear evidence

in my favour." At the same moment they all shouted aloud, to testify

their approval of Mania's words. "As to you, Prince Theiddat, where are

the witnesses that will bear evidence in your favour and prove the

justness of your claim to the possession of this throne?" Phralaong

replied: "My witnesses are not like yours, men or any living beings.[5]

The earth itself will give testimony to me. For, without alluding even

to those offerings I have made during several previous existences, I

will but mention the forty-seven great ones I made whilst I lived as

Prince Wethandra." Stretching out his right hand, which he had kept

hitherto under the folds of his garments, and pointing to the earth, he

said with a firm voice: "Earth, is it not true that at the time I was

Prince Wethandra I made forty great offerings?" The earth replied with a

deep and loud roaring, resounding in the midst of Manh's legions, like

the sound of countless voices, threatening to spread death and

destruction in their ranks. The famous charger of Manh bent his knees,

and paid homage to Phralaong. Manh himself, disheartened and

discomfited, fled to the country of Wathawatti. His followers were so

overpowered by fear that they flung away all that could impede their

retreat, and ran away in every direction. Such was the confusion and

disorder that prevailed that two warriors could not be seen following

the same course in their flight.

Looking from their seats on the defeat of Manh and the glorious victory

of Phralaong, the Nats[6] rent the air with shouts of exultation. The

Brahmas, Nagas, and Galongs joined the Nats in celebrating his triumph

over his enemies. They all hastened from more than ten thousand worlds

to pay their respects and offer their felicitations, presenting him with

flowers and perfumes, saying: "Victory and glory to Phralaong! Shame and

defeat to the infamous Manh!"

It was a little while before sunset when Phralaong had achieved his

splendid victory over his proud foe. At that time he was wrapped up, as

it were, in the profoundest meditation. The extremities of the branches

of the Bodi tree[7] fell gently over him, and, by their undulations,

seemed caressing, as it were, his tsiwaran; they resembled so many

beautiful nosegays of red flowers that were offered to him. At the first

watch of the night Phralaong applied all the energies of his powerful

mind to ascertain the laws of the causes and effects, in order to

account for all that is in existence. He argued in the following manner:

"Pain and all sorts of miseries do exist in this world. Why do they

exist? Because there is birth. Why is there birth? Because there is

conception. Now conception does take place, because there is existence,

or that moral state produced by the action or influence of merits and

demerits. Existence is brought in by _Upadan_, or the combining of

affections calculated to cause the coming into existence. The latter has

for its cause the desire. The desire is produced by sensation. The

latter is caused by the contact. The contact takes place because there

are the six senses. The six senses do exist, because there is name and

form, that is to say, the exterior sign of the ideal being and the type

of the real being. Name and form owe their existence to erroneous

knowledge; the latter in its turn is produced by the imagination, which

has for its cause ignorance."[8]

Having followed in his mind the succession of the twelve causes and

effect, and reached the last link of that chain, Phralaong said to

himself: "Ignorance, or no science, is the first cause which gives rise

to all the phenomena I have successively reviewed. From it springs the

world and all the beings it contains. It is the cause of that universal

illusion in which man and all beings are miserably lulled. By what means

can this ignorance be done away with? Doubtless by knowledge and true

science. By means of the light that science spreads I clearly see the

unreality of all that exists, and I am freed from that illusion which

makes other beings to believe that such thing exists, when, in reality,

it does not exist. The imagination, or the faculty to imagine the

existence of things which do not exist, is done away with. The same fate

is reserved to the false knowledge resulting therefrom to the name and

form, to the six senses, to contact, to sensation, to desire, to

conception, to existence, to birth, and to pain or miseries."

* * * * *

Then Phralaong says to himself: "The knowledge of the four great truths

is the true light that can dispel ignorance and procure the real

science, whereby the coming out from the whirlpool of existences, or

from the state of illusion, can be perfectly effected. These four truths

are: 1, The miseries of existence; 2, The cause productive of misery,

which is the desire, ever-renewed, of satisfying oneself without being

able ever to secure that end; 3, The destruction of that desire, or the

estranging oneself from it, is the important affair deserving the most

serious attention; 4, The means of obtaining the individual annihilation

of that desire is supplied solely by the four Meggas, or highways,

leading to perfection. But these Meggas can be followed only by those

who have a right intention, a right will, and who, throughout life,

exert themselves to regulate their action, conduct, language, thought,

and meditations." It was then that the heart of Phralaong acquired an

unshakable firmness, a perfect purity or exemption from all passions, an

unutterable meekness, and a strong feeling of tender compassion towards

all beings.

When these fundamental truths had been known, felt, and relished,[9]

Phralaong's mind, casting a glance over the past, was able to discover

at once all that had taken place during the countless states of his

former existences. He recollected the name he had borne, those of his

parents, the places he had seen and visited, the caste he had belonged

to, and all the chief events that had marked the course of his progress

through the continual migrations. He likewise saw reflected, as in a

mirror, the former conditions of existence of all other beings. The

immense development and expansion of his mind, which enabled him to

fathom the depth of the past, happened during the first watch of the

night.

He applied now all the expanded powers of his incomparable mind to take

a correct survey of all the beings now in existence. He glanced over all

those that were in hell, and the other three states of punishment, those

living on earth, and those dwelling in the twenty-six superior seats. He

at once understood distinctly their state, condition, merits, demerits,

and all that appertained to their physical and moral constitutive parts.

This labour occupied his mind up to midnight.

Urged by the merciful and compassionate dispositions of his soul,

Phralaong often revolved within himself the following: "All is misery

and affliction in this world; all beings are miserably detained in the

vortex of existences; they float over the whirlpool of desire and

concupiscence; they are carried to and fro by the fallacious cravings of

a never-obtained satisfaction. They must be taught to put an end to

concupiscence by freeing themselves from its influence. Their minds must

be imbued with the knowledge of the four great truths. The four ways

that I have discovered shall inevitably lead men and Nats to that most

desirable end. These ways ought to be pointed out to them, that, by

following them, men and Nats may obtain the deliverance."

Whilst these thoughts thronged through his mind, a little before break

of day, in the 103rd year of the Eatzana era, on the day of the full

moon of Katson, the perfect science broke at once over him: he became

the Buddha.

When this great wonder took place, ten thousand worlds were shaken

twelve times with such a violence as to make hairs stand on one end.

These words, "Most excellent being," were heard throughout the same

series of worlds. Magnificent ornaments decorated all places. Flagstaffs

appeared in every direction, adorned with splendid streamers. Of such

dimensions were they that the extremities of those in the east reached

the opposite side of the west; and those in the north, the southern

boundary. Some flags, hanging from the seats of Brahmas, reached the

surface of the earth. All the trees of ten thousand worlds shot out

branches, loaded with fruits and flowers. The five sorts of lilies

bloomed spontaneously. From the clefts of rocks beautiful flowers sprang

out. The whole universe appeared like an immense garden, covered with

flowers; a vivid light illuminated those places, the darkness of which

could not be dispersed by the united rays of seven suns. The water,

which fills the immensity of the deep, at a depth of eighty-four

thousand youdzanas, became fresh and offered a most agreeable drink.

Rivers suspended their course; the blind recovered their sight, the deaf

could hear, and the lame were able to walk freely. The captives were

freed from their chains and restored to their liberty. Innumerable other

wonders took place at the moment Phralaong received the supreme

intelligence. He said then to himself, "Previous to my obtaining the

supreme knowledge, I have, during countless generations, moved in the

circle of ever-renewed existences, and borne-up misery. Now I see this

distinctly. Again, I perceive how I can emancipate myself from the

trammels of existence, and extricate myself from all miseries and

wretchedness attending generation; my will is fixed on the most amiable

state of Neibban. I have now arrived to that state of perfection that

excludes all passions."

It was at the full moon of the month Katson, when these memorable

occurrences took place, and it was daylight when Phralaong at last

obtained the fulness of the Buddhaship. After this glorious and

triumphant achievement, Phralaong, whom from this moment we must call

Phra or Buddha, continued to remain on the throne, in a cross-legged

position, with a mind absorbed in contemplation during seven days.

Mental exertion and labour were at an end. Truth in its effulgent beauty

encompassed his mind and shed over it the purest rays. Placed in that

luminous centre, Phra saw all beings entangled in the web of passions,

tossed over the raging billows of the sea of renewed existences,

whirling in the vortex of endless miseries, tormented incessantly and

wounded to the quick by the sting of concupiscence, sunk into the dark

abyss of ignorance, the wretched victims of an illusory, unsubstantial,

and unreal world. He said then to himself: "In all the worlds there is

no one but me who knows how to break through the web of passions, to

still the waves that waft beings from one state into another, to save

them from the whirlpool of miseries, to put an end to concupiscence and

break its sting, to dispel the mist of ignorance by the light of truth,

to teach all intelligent beings the unreality and nonexistence of this

world, and thereby lead them to the true state of Neibban." Having thus

given vent to the feelings of compassion that pressed on his benevolent

heart, Phra, glancing over future events, delighted in contemplating the

great number of beings who would avail themselves of his preachings, and

labour to free themselves from the slavery of passions. He counted the

multitudes who would enter the ways that lead to the deliverance, and

would obtain the rewards to be enjoyed by those who will follow one of

those ways. The Baranathee country would be favoured first of all with

the preaching of the law of the wheel. He reviewed the countries where

his religion would be firmly established. He saw that Maheinda, the son

of king Asoka, would carry his law to Ceylon, two hundred and thirty-six

years after his Neibban.

When these and other subjects were fully exhausted, the most excellent

Phra came down from his throne and went to a distance of ten fathoms

from the Bodi tree, in a north-east direction. There he stood, his eyes

fixedly riveted on the throne, without a single wink, during seven

consecutive days, given up to the most intense and undisturbed

meditation. The Nats, observing this extraordinary posture, imagined

that he regretted the throne he had just vacated, and that he wanted to

repossess himself of it. They concluded that, such being the case,

Prince Theiddat had not as yet obtained the Buddhaship. When the period

of seven days was over, Buddha, who knew the innermost thoughts of the

Nats, resolved to put an end to their incredulous thinking respecting

his person. For that purpose, he had recourse to the display of

miraculous powers.[10] He raised himself high up in the air, and, to

their astonished regards, he wrought at once more than a thousand

wonders, which had the immediate effect of silencing all their doubts,

and convincing them that he was indeed the Buddha.

Having come down to the place which he had started from, for the display

of prodigies, Buddha went to the north of the tree Bodi at a distance of

only two fathoms from it. He spent this time in walking to and fro from

east to west, during seven days, over a road, prepared for that purpose

by the Nats. He was engaged all the while in the work of the sublimest

contemplation.

He then shaped his course in a north-west direction, at a distance of

thirteen fathoms from the sacred tree. There stood a beautiful house,

shining like gold, resplendent with precious stones. It was a temporary

residence, purposely prepared for him by the Nats. Thither he repaired,

and sat down in a cross-legged position during seven days. He devoted

all his time to meditating on the Abidamma, or the most excellent

science. This science is divided into seven books. Phra had already gone

over the six first and fully mastered their contents, but the six

glories had not as yet shot forth from his person.

It was only after having mastered the contents of the last division,

named Pathan, divided into twenty-four parts, that the six glories

appeared. Like the great fishes that delight to sport only in the great

ocean, the mind of Buddha expanded itself with indescribable eagerness,

and delighted to run unrestrained through the unbounded field opened

before him by the contents of that volume. Brown rays issued from his

hairs, beard, and eyelids. Gold-like rays shot forth from his eyes and

skin; from his flesh and blood dashed out purple beams, and from his

teeth and bones escaped rays, white like the leaves of the lily; from

his hands and feet emanated rays of a deep-red colour, which, falling on

the surrounding objects, made them appear like so many rubies of the

purest water. His forehead sent forth undulating rays, resembling those

reflected by cut crystal. The objects which received those rays appeared

as mirrors, reflecting the rays of the sun. Those six rays of various

hues caused the earth to resemble a globe of the finest gold. Those

beams at first penetrated through our globe, which is eighty-two

thousand youdzanas thick, and thence illuminated the mass of water which

supports our planet. It resembled a sea of gold. That body of water,

though four hundred and eighty thousand youdzanas thick, could not stop

the elastic projection of those rays, which went forth through a stratum

of air nine hundred and sixty thousand youdzanas thick, and were lost in

the vacuum. Some beams, following a vertical direction, rushed through

the six seats of Nats, the sixteen of Brahmas, and the four superior

ones, and thence were lost in vacuum. Other rays, following a horizontal

direction, penetrated through an infinite series of worlds. The sun, the

moon, the stars appeared like opaque bodies, deprived of light. The

famous garden of Nats, their splendid palace, the ornaments hanging from

the tree Padetha were all cast into the shade and appeared obscure, as

if wrapped up in complete darkness. The body of the chief Brahma, which

sends forth light through one million of systems, emitted then but the

feeble and uncertain light of the glowworm at sunrise. This marvellous

light, emanating from the person of Buddha, was not the result of vowing

or praying; but all the constituent parts of his body became purified to

such an extent by the sublime meditation of the most excellent law that

they shone with a matchless brightness.

Having thus spent seven days in that place, close to the Bodi tree, he

repaired to the foot of another gniaong tree, called adzapala, or the

shepherds' tree, so called because, under its cooling shade, shepherds

and their flocks of goats rested during the heat of the day. It was

situated at the east of the Bodi, at a distance of thirty fathoms. There

he sat in a cross-legged position, during seven days, enjoying the

sweetness of self-recollection. It was near to that place that the vile

Manh, who, since his great attack on Buddha, had never lost sight of

him, but had always secretly followed him with a wicked spirit, was

compelled to confess that he had not been able to discover in that Rahan

anything blamable, and expressed the fear of seeing him at once pass

over the boundaries of his empire. The tempter stooped in the middle of

the highway, and across it drew successively sixteen lines, as he went

on reflecting on sixteen different subjects. When he had thought over

each of the ten great virtues, he drew, first, ten lines, saying: "The

great Rahan has indeed practised to a high degree those ten virtues. I

cannot presume to compare myself to him." In drawing the eleventh, he

confessed that he had not, like that Rahan, the science that enabled to

know the inclinations and dispositions of all beings. In drawing the

twelfth, he said that he had not as yet acquired the knowledge of all

that concerns the nature of the various beings. Drawing the four

remaining lines, he confessed successively that he did not feel, like

that Rahan, a tender compassion for the beings yet entangled in the

miseries of existence, nor could he perform miracles, nor perceive

everything, nor attain to the perfect and supreme knowledge of the law.

On all these subjects he avowed his decided inferiority to the great

Rahan.

Whilst Manh was thus engaged with a sad heart in meditating over those

rather humiliating points, he was at last found out by his three

daughters, Tahna,[11] Aratee, and Raga, who had for some time been

looking after him. When they saw their father with a downcast

countenance, they came to him, and inquired about the motive of his deep

affliction. "Beloved daughters," replied Manh, "I see this Rahan

escaping from my dominion, and notwithstanding my searching examination,

I have not been able to detect him in anything reprehensible. This is

the only cause of my inexpressible affliction." "Dear father," replied

they, "banish all sorrows from your mind, and be of a good heart; we

will very soon find out the weak side of the great Rahan, and

triumphantly bring him back within the hitherto unpassed limits of your

empire." "Beware of the man you will have to deal with," replied Manh.

"I believe that no effort, however great, directed against him, will

ever be rewarded with success. He is of a firm mind and unshaken

purpose. I fear you shall never succeed in bringing him back within my

dominions." "Dear father," said they, "we women know how to manage such

affairs; we will catch him like a bird in the net of concupiscence; let

fear and anxiety be for ever dispelled from your heart." Having given

this assurance, forthwith they went to Buddha, and said to him,

"Illustrious Rahan, we approach you respectfully and express the wish of

staying with you, that we may minister to all your wants." Without in

the least heeding their words, or even casting a glance at them, the

most excellent Buddha remained unmoved, enjoying the happiness of

meditation. Knowing that the same appearance, face, and bodily

accomplishments might not be equally pleasing, they assumed, one the

appearance of a heart-winning young girl, another that of a blooming

virgin, and the third that of a fine middle-aged beauty. Having thus

made their arrangements, they approached Buddha, and several times

expressed to him the desire of staying with him and ministering to his

wants. Unmoved by all their allurements, Buddha said to them, "For what

purpose do you come to me? You might have some chance of success with

those that have not as yet extinguished the fire of passion, and rooted

it from their heart; but I, like all the Buddhas, my predecessors, have

destroyed in me concupiscence, passion, and ignorance. No effort, on

your part, will ever be able to bring me back into the world of

passions. I am free from all passions, and have obtained supreme wisdom.

By what possible means could you ever succeed in bringing me back into

the whirlpool of passions?" The three daughters of Manh, covered with

confusion, yet overawed with admiration and astonishment, said to each

other, "Our father forsooth had given us a good and wise warning. This

great Rahan deserves the praises of men and Nats. Everything in him is

perfect; to him it belongs to instruct men in all things they want to

know." Saying this, they, with a downcast countenance, returned to their

father.

It was in that very same place, at the foot of the adzapala gniaong,

that a heretic Pounha, named Mingalika, proud of his caste, came with

hasty steps, speaking loudly, and with little respect approached the

spot where Buddha was sitting.[12] Having entered into conversation with

him, the Pounha heard from his mouth instructions worthy of being ever

remembered. He said to Buddha, "Lord Gaudama, I have two questions to

put to you. Whence comes the name Pounha? What are the duties to be

performed in order to become a real Pounha?" Buddha, penetrating with

the keen eye of wisdom into the innermost soul of his interlocutor,

answered, "The real and genuine Pounha is he who has renounced all

passions, put an end to concupiscence, and has entered the ways leading

to perfection. But there are others, who are proud of their origin, who

walk hastily, speak with a loud voice, and who have not done what is

needful to destroy the influence of passions. These are called Pounhas

because of their caste and birth. But the true sage avoids everything

that is rash, impetuous or noisy: he has conquered all his passions, and

put an end to the principle of demerits. His heart loves the repetition

of formulas of prayers, and delights in the exercise of meditation. He

has reached the last way to perfection. In him there is no longer

wavering, or doubt, or pride. This man really deserves the name of

Pounha, or pure: he is indeed the true Pounha according to the law." The

instruction being finished, the Pounha rose respectfully from his place,

wheeled to the right and departed.

Buddha continued the sublime work of contemplating pure truth through

the means of intense reflection. Having remained seven days in that

position, Buddha arose in an ecstasy and went to the south-eastern side

of the Bodi tree, to a distance of an oothaba (1 oothaba=to 20 tas, 1

ta=to 7 cubits), on the sixth day after the full moon of Nayon. On that

spot there was a tank called Hidza-lee-dana. On the bank of that tank,

he sat under the shade of the Kiin tree, in a cross-legged position

during seven days, enjoying the delight of meditation. During those

seven days rain fell in abundance, and it was very cold. A Naga, chief

of that tank, would have made a building to protect Buddha against the

inclemency of the weather, but he preferred, in order to gain greater

merits, to coil himself up sevenfold round his person, and to place his

head above him, with his large hood extended. When the seven days were

over and the rain had ceased, the Naga quitted his position; then

assuming the appearance of a young man, he prostrated himself before

Buddha and worshipped him. Buddha said: "He who aims at obtaining the

state of Neibban ought to possess the knowledge of the four roads

leading thereto, as well as that of the four great truths and of all

laws. He ought to bear no anger towards other men, nor harm them in any

way soever. Happy he who receives such instructions."

Buddha moved from that place, and went to the south of the Bodi tree, to

a distance of forty fathoms. At the foot of the linloon tree he sat in a

cross-legged position, having his mind deeply engaged in the exercise of

the sublimest contemplation. In that position he spent seven entire

days, which completed the forty-nine days which were to be devoted to

reflection and meditation around the Bodi tree. When this period of days

was over, at daybreak, on the fifth day after the full moon of Watso, he

felt the want of food. This was quickly perceived by a Thagia, who

hastened from his seat to the spot where Buddha was staying, and offered

him some Thit khia fruits, others say Kia-dzoo fruits, to prepare his

system to receive more substantial food. After he had eaten them, the

same celestial attendant brought him some water to rinse his mouth, and

to wash his face and hands. Buddha continued to remain in the same

position under the cooling and protecting shade of the linloon tree.

To consecrate, as it were, and perpetuate the remembrance of the seven

spots occupied by Buddha during the forty-nine days that he spent round

the tree Bodi, a Dzedy was erected on each of those seven places. King

Pathenadi Kosala surrounded them with a double wall, and subsequently

King Dammathoka added two others. There were only three openings, or

gates, to penetrate into the enclosed ground, one on the north, another

on the east, and the third on the south. The river Neritzara rolls its

deep blue waters in a south-eastern direction from the Bodi tree, to a

distance of eight oothabas from it. On the eastern bank of that stream

another Dzedy has been erected on the spot where, previous to his

becoming a Buddha, he had eaten the forty-nine mouthfuls of the

delicious Nogana offered to him by the pious Thoodzata.

Whilst Buddha was sitting in a cross-legged position under the linloon

tree, two brothers named Tapoosa and Palekat, merchants by profession,

arrived with five hundred carts in the Oorouwela forest, at the very

place where Buddha was staying. They had sailed from their native town,

called[13] Oukkalaba, which lies in a south-eastern direction from the

Mitzima country, bound for the port of Adzeitta. After landing, they

hired five hundred carts to carry their goods to a place called Soowama.

They were on their way to their destination when they arrived in the

Oorouwela forest. Great was their surprise when they saw on a sudden all

their carts unable to move, and arrested by some invisible power.

A Nat who had been formerly their relative stopped by his power the

wheels of the carriages. Surprised at such a wonder, the merchants

prayed to the Nat who was guardian of that place. The Nat, assuming a

visible shape, appeared before them and said to them: "The illustrious

Buddha who by the knowledge of the four great truths has arrived to the

nature of Phra, is now sitting at the foot of the linloon tree. Go now

to that place, and offer him some sweet bread and honey; you shall

derive therefrom great merits for many days and nights to come." The two

brothers, joyfully complying with the Nat's request, prepared the sweet

bread and honey, and hastened in the direction that had been indicated

to them. Having placed themselves in a suitable position and prostrated

themselves before Buddha, they said: "Most glorious Phra, please to

accept these offerings; great merits doubtless will be our reward for

many days to come." Buddha had no patta to put those offerings in, for

the one he had received from the Brahma Gatigara had disappeared when

Thoodzata made him her great offerings. Whilst he was thinking on what

he had to do, four Nats came and presented him each with one patta, made

of nila or sapphire stone. Phra accepted the four pattas, not from

motives of covetousness, but to let each Nat have an equal share in such

meritorious work. He put the four pattas one in the other, and by the

power of his will they on a sudden became but one patta, so that each

Nat lost nothing of the merit of his offerings. Buddha received the

offerings of the two merchants in that patta, and satisfied his

appetite. The two brothers said to Buddha: "We have on this day

approached you, worshipped you, and respectfully listened to your

instructions; please to consider us as your devoted followers for the

remainder of our lives."[14] They obtained the position of Upathaka.

They continued addressing Buddha, and said: "What shall we henceforth

worship?" Buddha, rubbing his hand over his head, gave them a few of the

hairs that had adhered to his fingers, bidding them to keep carefully

those relics. The two brothers, overjoyed at such a valuable present,

most respectfully received it, prostrated themselves before Buddha, and

departed.

FOOTNOTES

[1] The Nats or Dewatas play a conspicuous part in the affairs

of this world. Their seats are in the six lower heavens,

forming, with the abode of man and the four states of

punishment, the eleven seats of passions. But they often quit

their respective places, and interfere with the chief events

that take place among men. Hence we see them ever attentive in

ministering to all the wants of the future Buddha. Besides, they

are made to watch over trees, forests, villages, towns, cities,

fountains, rivers, &c. These are the good and benevolent Nats.

This world is also supposed to be peopled with wicked Nats,

whose nature is ever prone to the evil. A good deal of the

worship of Buddhists consists in superstitious ceremonies and

offerings made for propitiating the wicked Nats, and obtaining

favours and temporal advantages from the good ones. Such a

worship is universal, and fully countenanced by the talapoins,

though in opposition to the real doctrines of genuine Buddhism.

All kinds of misfortunes are attributed to the malignant

interference of the evil Nats. In cases of severe illness that

have resisted the skill of native medical art, the physician

gravely tells the patient and his relatives that it is useless

to have recourse any longer to medicines, but a conjuror must be

sent for to drive out the malignant spirit, who is the author of

the complaint. Meanwhile directions are given for the erection

of a shed, where offerings intended for the inimical Nat are

deposited. A female relative of the patient begins dancing to

the sound of musical instruments. The dance goes on, at first in

rather a quiet manner, but it gradually grows more animated

until it reaches the acme of animal frenzy. At that moment the

bodily strength of the dancing lady becomes exhausted; she drops

on the ground in a state of apparent faintness. She is then

approached by the conjuror, who asks her if the invisible foe

has relinquished his hold over the diseased. Being answered in

the affirmative, he bids the physician give medicines to the

patient, assuring him that his remedies will now act

beneficially for restoring the health of the sick, since their

action will meet no further opposition from the wicked Nat.

Ignorance brings everywhere superstition in its train. When man

is unacquainted with the natural cause that has produced a

result, or an effect, which attracts powerfully his mind's

attention and affects him to a great degree, he is induced by

his own weakness to believe in the agency of some unknown being,

to account for the effect that he perceives. He devises the most

ridiculous means for expressing his gratitude to his invisible

benefactor, if the result be a favourable one; and has recourse

to the most extravagant measures to counteract the evil

influence of his supposed enemy, if the result be fatal to him.

Having once entered into the dark way of superstition, man is

hurried on in countless false directions by fear, hope, and

other passions, in the midst of the daily occurrence of

multifarious and unforeseen events and circumstances. Hence the

expression or manifestation of his superstition assumes a

variety of forms, and undergoes changes to an extent that

baffles every attempt at either counting their numberless kinds

or following them up through their ever-changing course. In

addition to the stores of superstitions bequeathed by the

generation that has preceded him, man has those of his own

creation; and the latter, if the thought of his mind and the

desires of his heart could be analysed, would be found far

exceeding the former in number. Having spent many years in a

country where Buddhism has prevailed from time immemorial, and

observed the effects of superstition over the people in their

daily doings, the writer has come to the conclusion that there

is scarcely an action done without the influence of some

superstitious motive or consideration. But the most prolific

source of superstition is the belief in the existence of

countless good and evil Nats, with whom the imagination of

Buddhists has peopled this world.

It can scarcely be understood how the followers of an

atheistical creed can make, consistently with their opinions, an

attempt at prayer. Such an act of devotion implies the belief in

a being superior to men, who has a controlling power over them,

and in whose hands their destinies are placed. With a believer

in God, prayer is a sacred, nay, a natural duty. But such cannot

be the case with atheists. Despite the withering and despairing

influence of atheism, nothing can possibly obliterate from the

conscience and heart of man that inward faith in a supreme

being. The pious Thoodzata has in view the attainment of two

objects: she prays, without knowing to whom, that by the agency

of some one she might obtain the objects of her petition; she is

anxious to show her gratitude when she sees that her prayer has

been heard. Her faith in the _quasi_ omnipotence of the genii

makes her address thanks to them. The Nat is not the person to

whom her prayer appears directed, but he is rather a witness of

her petition. The Burmese, in general, under difficult

circumstances, unforeseen difficulties, and sudden calamities,

use always the cry, _Phra kaiba_--God assist me--to obtain from

above assistance and protection. Yet that Phra cannot be their

Buddha, though he be in their opinion the Phra _par excellence_,

since they openly declare that he in no way interferes in the

management of this world's affairs. Whence that involuntary cry

for assistance, but from the innate consciousness that above man

there is some one ruling over his destinies? An atheistical

system may be elaborated in a school of metaphysics, and forced

upon ignorant and unreflecting masses, but practice will ever

belie theory. Man, in spite of his errors and follies, is

naturally a believing being; his own weakness and multiplied

wants ever compel him to have recourse to some great being that

can help and assist him, and supply, to a certain extent, the

deficiency which, in spite of himself, he is compelled to

acknowledge existing in him as a stern and humiliating reality.

[2] The Burmese, like all trans-Gangetic nations, divide the

year into twelve lunar months of twenty-nine and thirty days

alternately. Every third year they add one month, or as they

say, double the month of Watso (July). The year begins on, or

about, the 12th of April. The days of worship are the days of

the four quarters of the moon; but the days of the new and full

moon seem to have preference over those of the two other

quarters, which latter are scarcely noticed or distinguished

from common days. It was on the day of the full moon of April

that Thoodzata made her grand offering.

[3] The Burmese translator, not having given in his remarks the

explanation or interpretation of Phralaong's five dreams, it

seems rather presumptuous to attempt doing a thing, the neglect

of which, on the part of the author, may be attributed either to

voluntary omission or to incapacity and inability. Let us try to

make up, in part, for the deficiency. The first dream

prognosticated the future greatness of Phralaong, whose sway, by

the diffusion of his doctrines throughout the world, was to be

universal, extending from one sea to the other sea. The grass

growing out of his navel and reaching to the sky was indicative

of the spreading of his law, not only amongst the beings

inhabiting the seat of men, but also amidst those dwelling in

the abodes of Nats and Brahmas. The ants covering his legs offer

an enigma, the explanation of which is reserved to some future

Oedipus. As to the birds of various colours, gathering round

him, from the four points of the compass, and on a sudden

becoming all white, by their contact with him, they represent

the innumerable beings that will come to hear the preaching of

the future Buddha with divers dispositions, and different

progress in the way of merits, and will all be perfected by

their following the true way to merit, that he will point out to

them. The fifth dream in which Phralaong thought he was walking

on a mountain of filth, without being in the least contaminated

by it, foreshowed the incomparable perfection and purity of

Buddha, who, though remaining in the world of passions, was no

more to be affected by their influence.

[4] We have now reached the most interesting episode of

Phralaong's life. He is to become a perfected Buddha under the

shade of the gniaong or banyan tree (_ficus indica_, _ficus

religiosa_). There are two circumstances attending that great

event, deserving peculiar notice. The first is the preference

given to the east over the three other points of the compass,

and the second, the mighty combat that takes place between

Phralaong and the wicked Nat Manh, or Mar. I notice the first

circumstance because it agrees with the tradition prevailing

amongst most nations previous to or about the coming of our

Lord, that from the east there was to come an extraordinary

personage, who would confer on the human race the greatest

benefits, and cause the return of happy times, like the golden

age so much celebrated by poets. The Roman historian Suetonius

bears testimony to the existence of that tradition as being

universally known in his own days. It is not impossible that the

same notion, not unknown in the far east, might have induced

Phralaong to look towards the east at the supreme moment when

perfect intelligence was to become his happy lot. It may be said

in opposition to this supposition, that the splendour and

magnificence of the sun, emerging from the bosom of night, and

dispelling darkness by pouring a flood of light on the face of

the earth, restoring nature to life and action, was a sufficient

inducement to Phralaong for giving preference to the east. But

to an ascetic like him, who is convinced that this world is a

mere illusion, such a consideration would weigh very little on

his mind, and would not be a sufficient motive to induce him to

give so marked a preference to the east.

The second circumstance remarkable for the time it occurred, is

the great combat between Phralaong and Manh. The first is the

personification of goodness and benevolence towards all beings;

the second is the personification of consummate wickedness. The

contest is to take place between the good principle on the one

hand, and the evil one on the other. Phralaong, on his becoming

Buddha, will preach a law designed to dispel mental darkness, to

check vicious passions, to show the right way to perfection, to

unloose the ties that keep beings in the wretched state of

existence, and enable them to reach safely the peaceful shores

of Neibban. Manh, the devil himself, the father of darkness, of

lies and deceit, delights in seeing all beings plunged into the

abyss of vices, carried out of the right way by the impetuous

and irresistible torrent of their passions, and doomed to turn

for ever in the whirlpool of endless existences. He looks upon

himself as the king of this world, and proudly exults in

contemplating all beings bending their neck under his tyrannical

yoke, and acknowledging his undisputed power. Now the moment

approaches when a mighty antagonist will contend with him for

the empire of the world. His mission will be to labour

incessantly for the delivery of all beings from the grasp of

their mortal enemy, and set them free from the tyranny of

passions. Manh is enraged at the audacious pretensions of

Phralaong. Hence the gigantic efforts he makes to maintain his

rights, and retain possession of his empire. At the time

Phralaong left the world to become a Rahan, Manh endeavoured to

dissuade him from attempting such a design. But on this

occasion, the tempter summons all his forces to avert, by an

irresistible attack, the deadly blow soon to be levelled at him.

It is needless to add that the reader, in perusing the detailed

account of the attack of Manh against Phralaong, ought to bear

in mind that it exhibits throughout but an allegory of the

opposition of evil to good. The victory of Phralaong over Manh

exemplifies the final triumph of truth over error.

When the contest was nearly over, Phralaong objected to the

claims of Manh to the possession of his throne, on the ground

that he never had practised the ten great virtues, nor performed

works of kindness, charity, and benevolence, which alone can

entitle a being to obtain the Buddhaship. It is to be borne in

mind that these qualifications form the real characteristics of

a Buddha, together with the possession of the supreme

intelligence. In this system, they admit that there exist

certain beings called Pitzega-Buddhas, who possess all the

knowledge and science of a genuine Buddha, but as they are

divested of those benevolent feelings which induce the former to

labour earnestly for the benefit and salvation of all beings,

they cannot be assimilated to the real Buddhas. The cross-legged

position which our Buddha has always taken in preference to any

other, whilst he spent forty-nine days at the foot of and in

various places round the Bodi tree, is, as every one knows,

peculiar to and a favourite with all Asiatics. But with him, it

is the fittest position for meditation and contemplation. Hence

most of the statues or images of Gaudama exhibit or represent

him in the cross-legged position which he occupied when he

attained the Buddhaship. As this event is by far the most

important of his life, it is but natural that this great

occurrence should ever be forced upon the attention and memory

of his followers, by objects representing him on that most

important stage of his last existence. It is not unusual to meet

with statues of Gaudama, sometimes of colossal dimensions,

representing him in a reclining position. This is the peculiar

situation he occupied when he died. Hence those two most common

images of Gaudama are designed to remind his followers of the

two greatest circumstances of his life, viz., his becoming

Buddha, and his entering the state of Neibban.

Here again one is forcibly compelled to reflect on the singular

_role_ attributed to those Pitzega-Buddhas. They possess all the

science of a Buddha, but are deficient in that kindness,

benevolence, and zeal which prompt the real Buddhas to labour so

strenuously for the deliverance of all beings. They appear only

in those ages of darkness and ignorance which are not to be

brightened and enlightened by the presence of a Buddha. They are

like smaller luminaries, shedding a pale light among men to

prevent their sinking into an unfathomable abyss of ignorance;

they maintain on earth some sparks of the knowledge of

fundamental truths, which otherwise would be completely

obliterated from the memory of men. Not unlike the prophets of

old, they prepare men in an indirect manner for the coming of

the future deliverer. Their mission being at an end, when a

Buddha is to come among men, they disappear, and none of them is

to be seen either in the days of Buddha or during all the time

his religion is to last.

[5] The witness whom Phralaong summoned in support of his claim

to the undisturbed possession of the throne was the earth

itself. It maybe from the example that was set on this occasion

that Buddhists have borrowed the habit of calling the earth as a

witness of the good works they have done or are doing. I will

briefly relate what is done and said on such occasions. During

my former residence in Burmah I observed on a certain occasion,

when taking my evening walk, about ten or twelve persons of both

sexes assembled on a rather retired spot in the vicinity of a

pagoda. As they appeared all quite attentive, I came near to

them to see what was the cause that had brought them thither,

and what occurrence seemed to rivet their attention. As I was

known to some of them, they were not frightened by my sudden

apparition. On my asking them the motive of their assembling

here at a late hour, they said that, having buried yesterday a

child two years old, they came to make some offerings of boiled

rice, plantains, and other fruits, to propitiate the Nat of the

place. Having asked them to repeat the formula they had uttered

on the occasion, they kindly complied with my request. Here is

the substance of that formula. "Believing in the three precious

things, Buddha, the Law, and the Assembly of the perfect, I make

this offering, that I may be delivered from all present and

future miseries. May all beings existing in the four states of

punishment reach the fortunate seats of Nats. I wish all my

relatives and all men inhabiting this and other worlds to have a

share in this meritorious work. O earth and you Nats, guardians

of this place, be witness to the offering I am making." On

uttering these last words, the offerer of the present, or a

talapoin, sent for this purpose, pours down some water on the

ground.

[6] As the Nats and all other beings are to be benefited by the

preachings of Buddha, it is but natural that they all join in

singing his praises and exalting his glorious achievements. The

Nagas and Galongs are fabulous animals, which are often

mentioned in the course of this Legend. It has been observed in

a former note that, according to the Buddhistic notions, animals

are beings in a state of punishment, differing from man, not in

nature, but in merits. Some of them, having nearly exhausted the

sum of their demerits, begin to feel the influence of former

merits. They are supposed to have, to a certain extent, the use

of reason. No wonder if they rejoice at seeing the triumph of

him who is to help them in advancing towards a condition better

than their present one.

[7] The banyan tree, at the foot of which Phralaong obtains

perfect intelligence, is occasionally called throughout this

narrative the Bodi tree. The word Bodi means wisdom, science, or

knowledge. The Burmese, in their sacred writings, always mention

the tree by that name, because, under its shade, perfect science

was communicated to Phralaong. It is supposed to occupy the very

centre of the island of Dzampudiba. During all the while Phra or

Buddha (let us call him now by that name) remained under that

tree his mind was engaged in the most profound meditation, which

the gigantic efforts of his enemy could scarcely interrupt. It

is not to be inferred from the narrative in the text that

supreme intelligence was communicated suddenly or by miraculous

process to our Buddha. He was already prepared, by former mental

labours, for that grand result; he had previously capacitated

himself, by studies and reflection, for the reception of that

more than human science; he required but a last and mighty

effort of his intelligence to arrive finally at the acme of

knowledge, and thereby to become a perfect Buddha. That last

effort was made on this occasion, and crowned with the most

complete success. He gained the science of the past, present,

and future.

It would be somewhat curious to investigate the motives that

have determined Buddhists to give to that sacred tree the name

of Bodi. At first sight one will infer that such a name was

given to the tree because, under its refreshing and cooling

shade the Bodi, or Supreme intelligence, was communicated to

Phralaong. The occurrence, however extraordinary it be, is

scarcely sufficient to account for such an appellation. Bearing

in mind the numerous and striking instances of certain revealed

facts and truths, offered to the attention of the reader of this

Legend, in a deformed but yet recognisable shape, it would not

be quite out of the limits of probability to suppose that this

is also a remnant of the tradition of the tree of knowledge that

occupied the centre of the garden of Eden.

[8] The theory of the twelve causes and effects is, in itself,

very abstruse, and almost above the comprehension of those

uninitiated in the metaphysics of Buddhists. I will attempt to

analyse it in as simple and clear a way as possible. This theory

is very ancient, probably coeval with the first ages of

Buddhism. It forms this basis of its ontology and metaphysics in

the same manner as the four great and transcendent truths are

the foundation whereupon rests the system of morals. It is

probable that Gaudama, in his preachings, which were very

simple, and within the reach of ordinary minds, never formulated

his doctrine on this essential point in such a dry and concise

manner. But the seed was sown, and the germ deposited here and

there in his instructions. His immediate disciples, in

endeavouring to give a distant shape to their master's

doctrines, gradually framed the formula or theory just stated.

It, in fact, presents the very characteristics of a system

elaborated in a philosophical school.

In taking our departure from the first cause, which is _Awidza_,

or ignorance, or the wanting in science, or no knowledge, we

have to follow the different stages and conditions of a being

until it reaches decrepitude, old age, and death. When we speak

of ignorance, or no science, we must not suppose the material

existence of a being that ignores. But we must take ignorance in

an abstract sense, deprived of forms, and subsisting in a manner

very different from what we are wont to consider ordinary

beings. A European has a great difficulty in finding his way

through a process of reasoning so extraordinary, and so

different from that positivism which he is used to. But with the

Buddhist the case is widely different. He can pass from the

abstract to the concrete, from the ideal to the real, with the

greatest ease. But let us follow the scale of the causes and

effects, upon which there are twelve steps.

From ignorance comes _Sangkara_, that is to say, conception or

imagination, which mistakes for reality what is unreal, which

looks on this world as something substantial, whilst it is,

indeed, nothing but shadow and emptiness, assuming forms which

pass away as quick as the representations of theatrical

exhibitions. Sangkara, in its turn, begets _Wignian_, or

knowledge, attended with a notion of sentiment, implying that of

soul and life, in an abstract sense. From Wignian proceeds

_Namrup_, the name and form, because knowledge can have for its

object but name and form, &c., or, to speak in the language of

Buddhists, things that are external and internal. But let it be

borne in mind that what is herein meant is but the individuality

of an ideal being.

The name and form give birth to the _Chayatana_, six senses, or

seats of the sensible qualities. To our division of the five

ordinary senses Buddhists add the sixth sense of Mano, or the

heart, the internal sense. Through the senses we are put in

communication or contact with all objects; hence the six senses

give rise to the sixth cause _Pasa_, which means, properly

speaking, contact. From this cause flows the seventh one, called

_Wedana_, or sensation, or, more generally still, sensibility.

In fact, there can be no contact from which there will not

result some sensation, either pleasant or unpleasant, _Wedana_

gives infallibly rise to _Tahna_, or passion, or desire, or

inclination. From this point the series of causes and effects is

comparatively easy, because it presents conditions essentially

connected with a material object. By Tahna we ought not to

understand only the mere inclination that the sexes have one for

the other, but the general propensity created in a being by any

contact whatever, or perhaps, as usual with Buddhists, the

desire taken in an abstract sense.

The immediate result from Tahna is _Upadan_, the attachment, or

the conception. It is that state in which the desire adheres to

something, assumes a shape. It is, in fact, the being conceived.

From the state of conception the being passes into that of

_Bawa_, or existence, or that condition which is created and

made by the influence of former good or bad deeds preceding

birth, which is but the apparition of the being into this world.

_Dzati_, or birth, is the eleventh cause. It is the ushering of

a being into the world. There are six ways by which a being

comes into this world, viz., those of Nat, Man, Assura, Preitta,

animal, and the inhabitant of hell. Birth is accomplished in

four different manners, by humidity, an egg, a matrice, and

metamorphosis.

The twelfth and last step in the ladder of the causes and

effects is decrepitude and death. In fact, every being that is

born must grow old, decay, and finally die.

Such is the process followed by Buddhists in attempting to

account for all that exists. What effect could such a reasoning

have over the mind of the generality of hearers it is difficult

to say. But we may rest assured that, though these principles

existed, as an embryo, in the discourses of the author of

Buddhism, they were never laid before the generality of hearers

in that crude scholastic form. Such abstruse ideas, when

analysed and commented upon by Buddhist doctors, gave rise to

the most opposite conclusions. The materialist school based its

revolting doctrines upon that theory; we may add that the

opinions of that school are generally held in Burmah, and by the

great mass of Buddhists. Some other doctors reasoned in the

following manner: Ignorance supposes two things, a being

ignoring and a thing ignored, that is to say, man and the world.

They admitted the eternity of a soul which had to pass through

the series above enumerated. With them metempsychosis was a

process exactly similar to that imagined by the Brahmins. As to

the world, it was, to them, an unreality. Knowledge enabled them

to come to the position of understanding and believing that

there is no such thing as what we by mistake call world. The

latter opinion, which seems to admit of a principle existing

distinct from matter, is opposed to the former and general one,

which supposes that spirit is but a modification of matter. We

deliberately make use of the doubt, implying expression, at the

head of the preceding sentence, respecting the real opinions of

the latter school, because, in their way of arguing, it is

impossible not to come to the painful conclusion that they

ignore, or do not admit, a distinction between spirit and

matter.

[9] In a work different from that which has been translated is

found a more developed exposition of the four great and sublime

truths. We think that the reader will like to see in what manner

Buddhists themselves understand this important subject, which

is, with them, the foundation of their doctrine on morals.

There are four great truths: pain, the production of pain, the

destruction of pain, and the way leading to that destruction.

What is pain, which is the first of the great truths? It is

birth, old age, sickness, death, the coming in contact with what

we dislike, the separation from what we feel an attachment for,

the illusion which begets false knowledge. All that is pain.

What is the production of pain, the second sublime truth? It is

the desire which incessantly longs for an illusory satisfaction,

which can never be obtained. That desire is a perpetually

renewed craving, coveting objects here and there, and never

satiated. Such is the cause productive of pain; such is the

prolific source of all miseries. What is the destruction of

pain, which is the third great truth? It is the doing away with

that desire which always shows itself, searches after this or

that object, is always attended with feelings of pleasure, or

some other sensations. It is the perfect and entire stifling of

that craving which always covets, and is never satiated. The

estranging oneself from that desire and that craving, the

complete destruction of both, constitutes the third great truth.

What is the way leading to the destruction of that desire, which

is the fourth great truth? The way which one has to follow, in

order to obtain that most desirable result, is that which the

wise man invariably follows, when he is with an intention, will,

diligence, action, life, language, thought, and meditation,

always pure and correct.

The four truths are exceedingly praised by Buddhists. They

constitute what is emphatically called the law of the wheel,

incessantly revolving upon itself, and always presenting

successively those four points to the attentive consideration

and affectionate piety of the faithful. They are the offensive

weapons wherewith passions are attacked and destroyed: they are

the sword that cuts asunder the link that retains a being in the

circle of existences. The revelation, or manifestation of those

truths, is the great work that a Buddha has to perform. When it

is made, all beings in their respective seats rejoice in an

extraordinary manner. Inanimate nature even partakes in the

universal joy. The earth shakes with a great violence, and the

greatest prodigies proclaim aloud the fortunate manifestation of

a law which opens to all beings the way leading to deliverance.

The preaching of that doctrine took place for the first time in

the forest of Migadawon, not far from Baranathee, in the

presence and for the benefit of the five Rahans, who had

attended on Buddha, during the six years of mortification which

he spent to prepare and qualify himself for the Buddhaship.

[10] Buddhists allow to their Buddha the power of working

wonders and miracles. How is this power conferred upon him? This

is a difficulty they cannot explain satisfactorily. The science

of Buddha makes him acquainted with all the laws regulating

nature, that is to say, the _ensemble_ of the animate and

inanimate beings constituting a world; but one is at a loss to

find the origin of that power which enables him, as often as he

likes, to suspend the course of those laws. Be that as it may,

certain it is that Buddha resorted always, during the course of

his preachings, to miracles, in order to convince those who

seemed to listen with rather an incredulous ear to his

doctrines. Miracles were used successfully, as powerful and

irresistible weapons, against certain heretics, the Brahmins, in

particular, who taught doctrines opposed to his own. They often

accompanied his preachings, for increasing faith in the heart of

his hearers.

[11] The great tempter had been foiled in all his attempts to

conquer Buddha. In the sadness of his heart he was compelled to

acknowledge the superiority of his opponent and confess his

defeat. His three daughters came to console him, promising that

they would, by their united efforts, overcome the firmness of

the great Rahan, by awakening in his heart the fire of

concupiscence. The names of those three daughters of Manh denote

concupiscence. These new enemies of Buddha, therefore, are mere

personifications of the passion of lust. Pride, personified in

Manh, had proved powerless against the virtue of Buddha; he is

now assailed from a different quarter; the attack is to be

directed against the weakest side of human nature. But it is as

successless as the former one: it affords to Buddha another

occasion for a fresh triumph.

[12] In Burmah the originator of the great Buddhistic system is

called Gaudama, and this appellation, according to many, appears

to be his family name. When he is called Rahan Gaudama, it means

the ascetic belonging to the family of Gaudama. In Nepaul, the

same personage is known under the name of Thakiamuni, that is to

say, the ascetic of the Thakia family. Those who refused to

believe in Buddha and his doctrines, those who held tenets

disagreeing with his own, and professed what, in the opinion of

their adversaries, was termed a heretical creed, invariably

called Buddha by his family name, placing him on the same level

with so many of his contemporaries who led the same mode of

life. The Siamese give the appellation of Sammana Khodom to

their Buddha, that is to say, Thramana Gaudama, or Gautama. The

Sanscrit word Thramana means an ascetic who has conquered his

passions and lives on alms. Gaudama belonged to the Kchatria

caste. Kings and all royal families in those days came out of

the same caste. Hence his father Thoodaudana was king of the

country of Kapilawot, anciently a small state, north of

Goruckpore.

The young Pounha, not unlike the young man mentioned in the

gospel, had, by the preachings of Gaudama, become acquainted

with all the laws and practices relating to the general duties

and obligations incumbent on men in general. He might have

perhaps added that he had observed all those precepts from his

youth, or, at least, that he was sure now, with the additional

light he had received from his eminent teacher, to observe

faithfully all the injunctions mentioned in the course of the

lecture: but he was not satisfied with an ordinary proficiency

in virtue and observances; he aimed at superior attainments; he

wished to obtain the greatest perfection, that is to say, that

of Brahmas. In what does such a perfection consist? The book of

metaphysics informs us that the five states of Dzan, or

contemplations, are enjoyed by the beings located in the sixteen

seats of Brahmas, in the following order. The first state, or

that of consideration, is shared by all the beings inhabiting

the three first seats of Brahmas. Their occupation is to

consider the various subjects the mind has to dwell on. The

second Dzan, or reflection, is reserved for the beings occupying

the next three seats. Those beings have no more to look out for

subjects of meditation. Their sole occupation is to dive into

truth and fathom its depth and various bearings. The third state

of Dzan procures the pleasure which is derived from the

contemplation of truth, and belongs to the beings of the three

seats, superior to those just alluded to; in the fourth Dzan is

enjoyed a placid happiness, which is the result of the

possession of truth; it is reserved for the beings of the three

next seats. The fifth Dzan, or perfect stability, is the happy

lot of the beings living in the five last seats. Those fortunate

inmates are so entirely rooted in truth, and so perfectly exempt

from all that causes mutability, that they arrive at a state of

complete fixity, the whole of their soul being riveted on truth.

Apology is certainly due to the reader, who is but slightly

initiated in such abstruse subjects, for laying before him

particulars with which he is so unfamiliar; but this trouble

must be borne up by him who desires to obtain access into the

gloomy sanctuary of Buddhism.

[13] The episode of these two merchants is well known to the

inhabitants of the Irrawaddy valley. In three different

manuscripts which the writer has had in his hands, he has found

it related with almost the same particulars. Oukkalaba, the

place the two young men started from, was situated probably on

the spot now occupied by the village of Twaintay, or not far

from it. How far that place was from the sea in those remote

times it is not possible to ascertain with precision. Certain it

is, that it was a port from which vessels sailed across the Bay

of Bengal. The port of Eedzeitha has not as yet been identified

with any known locality. It was situated in all probability

between the mouth of the Krichna and that of the Hoogly. One of

the manuscripts mentions that when Gaudama handed over to the

two merchants eight hairs of his head, he bade them, on their

arrival in their country, deposit the hairs on a small hill

called Seingouttara, where the relics of the three former

Buddhas of our period had been enshrined. They were twenty-seven

days in reaching Maudin or Cape Negrais, rather a long voyage.

Having come to their own place, they related to the governor all

the particulars of their interesting journey. The latter,

without loss of time, assembled the people and set out in search

of the Seingouttara mount. All the eminences were cleared of

their brushwood, but the mount could not be discovered. Not

knowing what to do, they consulted the Nats on that affair. At

last, through their assistance, the mount was found out. But

when they inquired about the place of the relics of the three

former Buddhas, the Nats of Yesapan, Inandra, and Gauveinda

confessed that they knew nothing on the subject, but referred

the inquirers to other Nats older than they, viz.: those of

Deckina, Yauhani, Maubee, Ameisa, and Tsoolay, who at once

pointed out the spot which they were so eagerly searching after.

This spot is no other than the one over which stands and towers

the lofty and massive Shoay Dagon. They erected a Dzedy, in

which they enshrined the relics they had brought with them, the

eight hairs of Buddha. This story is doubtless the foundation on

which rests the popular belief that those very hairs are to this

day in the interior of that monument, and the true source from

which has originated the profound veneration which, in our own

days, Buddhists, from all parts of Burmah, Siam, and the Shan

states, pay by their pilgrimages and offerings to the Dagon

Pagoda.

[14] Upasaka is a Pali word which is designed to mean those

persons who, having heard the instructions of Buddha, and

professed a faith or belief in him and his doctrines, did not

enter the profession of Rahans. Hence they are quite distinct

from the Bikus or mendicants, who formed the first class of the

hearers of Buddha, and renounced the world in imitation of their

great master. The Upasakas were therefore people adhering to the

doctrines of Buddha, but as yet remaining engaged in the

ordinary pursuits of life. The two brothers became disciples of

Buddha, but not of the first class, since they did not embrace

the more perfect mode of life of the ascetics.

This is the first instance in this legend of an allusion being

made to relics, that is to say, to objects supposed to be

surrounded with a certain amount of sacredness, and esteemed on

that account to be worthy of receiving from devotees respect and

veneration. The two young converts, not as yet confirmed in the

new faith they had embraced, thought they wanted some exterior

object to which they might hereafter direct their homage and

offer their respects. They were as yet far from being acquainted

with the sublime science of their eminent teacher, who,

disregarding matter and all its modifications, could not but

feel quite indifferent respecting the pretended value of relics

of even the most sacred character. How is it that the stern

moralist, the contemner of this illusory world, could think of

giving a few hairs of his head to two new young converts, that

they might use them as objects of worship? Buddha doubtless knew

exactly and appreciated admirably the wants and necessities of

human nature as it is, and will very likely ever be to the end

of ages. Men are led, actuated, impressioned, and influenced by

the senses; in fact, it is through their senses that the

knowledge of things is conveyed to their minds. He gave to his

imperfectly instructed disciples a thing that would serve to

vivify and reanimate in their memory the remembrance of Buddha,

and of the instructions they had heard from him. Those

grossly-minded hearers asked for an object they might carry

about with them and worship. Buddha, out of deference for their

weak intellect, gave them a few hairs of his head, the sight of

which was designed to maintain in their souls a tender affection

for the person of him these things had belonged to. This subject

will receive hereafter the further treatment it deserves when we

come to examine the nature of the worship paid by Buddhists to

the images of Gaudama, and to the relics and Dzedis.