_Buddha hesitates to undertake the task of preaching the law --
The great Brahma entreats him to preach the law to all beings --
His assent to the entreaties -- Journey towards Migadawon --
He meets Ouppaka -- His first preachings -- Conversion of a
young nobleman named Ratha, followed by that of his father and
other relatives -- Conversion of several other noblemen --
Instructions to the Rahans -- Conversion of the three Kathabas._
Having come to the end of his great meditations,[1] Buddha left this
spot and returned to the place called Adzapala, where he revolved the
following subject in his mind:--"The knowledge," said he, "of the law
and of the four great truths, which I alone possess, is very hard to be
had. The law is deep; it is difficult to know and understand it; it is
very sublime, and can be comprehended only by the means of earnest
meditation. It is sweet, filling the soul with joy, and accessible only
to the wise. Now all beings are sunk very low by the influence of the
five great passions; they cannot free themselves from their baneful
operation, which is the source of all mutability. But the law of
mutability is the opposite of the law of Neibban or rest. This law is
hard to be understood. If I ever preach that law, beings will not be
able to understand me, and from my preaching there will result but a
useless fatigue and unprofitable weariness," Buddha thus remained almost
disinclined to undertake the great duty of preaching the law. The great
Brahma, observing what was taking place in Buddha's soul, cried out:
"Alas! all mankind are doomed to be lost. He who deserves to be
worshipped by all beings now feels no disposition to announce the law to
them." He instantly left his seat, and having repaired to the presence
of Phra, his cloak over his shoulders with one extremity hanging
backward, he bent his knee, lifted up his joined hands to the forehead
before the sage, and said to him: "Most illustrious Buddha, who art
adorned with the six glories, do condescend to preach the most excellent
law; the number of those buried under the weight and filth of passions
is comparatively small; if they do not listen to the law there will be
no great loss. But there is an immense number of beings who will
understand the law. In this world there are beings who are moderately
given up to the gratification of sensual appetites; and there are also a
great many who are following heretical opinions to whom the knowledge of
truth is necessary, and who will easily come to it. Lay now open the way
that leads to the perfection of Ariahs; those perfections are the gates
to Neibban." Thus he entreated Buddha. This Brahma had been in the time
of Buddha Kathaba a Rahan, under the name of Thabaka, and was
transferred to the first seat of Brahma for the duration of a world.
On hearing the supplications of that Brahma, Buddha began to feel a
tender compassion for all beings. With the keen eyes of a Buddha he
glanced over the whole world. He discovered distinctly those beings who
were as yet completely sunk in the filth of passions, those who were but
partly under the control of passions, and those whose dispositions
seemed to be more promising. He then made to the chief of Brahmas the
solemn promise that he would preach his law to all beings. Satisfied
with the answer he had received, the chief rose up, withdrew
respectfully at a proper distance, and turning on the right, left the
presence of Buddha and returned to his own seat.
Another thought preoccupied the mind of Buddha. "To whom," said he,
"shall I announce the law?" Having pondered a while over this subject,
he added: "The Rathee Alara of the Kalama race is gifted with wisdom and
an uncommonly penetrating mind; passions have scarcely any influence
over him. I will first preach to him the most excellent law." A Nat then
said to Phra that Alara had died seven days ago. Buddha, to whom the
past is known, had already seen that Alara was dead. He said: "Great
indeed is the loss Alara has met with; he would have doubtless been able
to understand right well the law I intended to preach to him. To whom
shall I go now?" Having paused a while, he added: "The Rathee Oodaka,
son of Prince Rama, has a quick perception; he will easily understand my
doctrine; to him I will announce the law." But the same Nat told him
that Oodaka had died the night before last, at midnight. "O! great is
the loss that has come upon Oodaka; he would have easily acquired the
knowledge of the perfect law." Buddha considered a third time, and said
to himself: "To whom shall I go to preach the law?" After a moment's
delay he added: "Many are the services I received in the wilderness from
the five Rahans who lived with me.[2] I will repay their good offices to
me, by preaching to them the law, but where are they now?" His
penetrating regards soon discovered them in the solitude of Migadawon.
Having enjoyed himself in the place Adzapala, Buddha went on towards the
country of Baranathee. All the former Buddhas travelled through the air,
but our Buddha, who had merciful designs over Upaka, went on foot. On
his way to the village of Gaya, at a distance of three gawots from the
Bodi tree, Buddha went to rest, at midday, for a while under the cooling
shade of a tree. There he was seen by the heretic Rahan Upaka, who,
approaching near him, said, "O Rahan, all your exterior bespeaks the
most amiable qualities; your countenance is at once modest and
beautiful. Under what teacher have you become a Rahan? To what law or
doctrine have you given preference in your arduous studies?" Buddha
answered: "Upaka, I have triumphed over all the laws of mutability; I am
acquainted with all the laws that rule this universe, and the beings
existing therein; from concupiscence and other passions I am wholly
disengaged. I have come to preach the most excellent law to all beings,
and teach them the four great truths I alone am acquainted with. I will
beat the great drum of the law. I have no teacher, and among Nats and
men there is none equal to me. Because of my victory, I have been named
Zeena. Now I am proceeding to the country of Baranathee, for the sake of
preaching the law." Upaka replied, "You are certainly the illustrious
Gaudama." He then shook his head, turned away from the road, and went to
the village of Wingaha. The instructions, however, germinated as good
seed in the soul of Upaka, and were the foundation of his subsequent
conversion, which happened as follows:--After this interview with
Gaudama, Upaka dwelt as a hermit in the village of Wingaha, where a shed
was erected for his dwelling. A hunter brought him support. It happened
that the hunter being engaged in a hunting excursion, his daughter went
to the hermit's cell, to carry him his food. Upaka was smitten by the
beauty of the damsel. He stretched himself on his belly and said to
himself, "I will take no food, nor change this position, unless I obtain
the object of my wishes." He stayed for several days in that position
without uttering a word, or making a single movement, or taking any
food. At last the hunter returned, and went forthwith to the hermit's
cell to inquire about the cause of his strange behaviour. He pulled him
by the feet, calling him aloud by the name of hermit; after a while a
sepulchral groan was heard, indicating that he was still alive. The good
hunter affectionately entreated him to mention to him what he wanted;
that he was ready to give him anything that he would ask. The hermit a
second time made a prolonged groan, as a man endeavouring to gather
strength. He then mentioned to the hunter the passion he had for his
daughter, and swore that he would die on the spot if his demand were
rejected. The father having given his consent, Upaka rose up, and was
soon married to Tsawama, who after due time presented him with a son. It
happened that Tsawama soon began to dislike her husband, and poured upon
him on every occasion all sorts of abuse. Unable to bear any longer the
unpleasant behaviour of his wife, Upaka said to himself, "I have here
neither friend nor supporter: I will go to my friend Dzina; he will
receive me with kindness." Hereupon he departed, inquiring everywhere
about his friend Dzina. At last he arrived at the place where Buddha was
staying with his disciples. Some of them, hearing Upaka inquiring with a
loud voice about his friend Dzina, took him into the presence of Buddha,
who, understanding at once the sad and painful state of the old man,
kindly asked what he wanted. Upaka replied that he desired to become a
Samanay under his direction. Buddha, to try his disposition, said to
him, "You are too old, Upaka, to enter upon the course of the severe
life of a Samanay, and conform to the enjoined practices." But the
latter renewing his entreaties, he was admitted among the members of the
assembly. He became an Anagam, died and migrated to one of the seats of
Brahmas. After a short stay up there, he obtained the deliverance. His
son was Thoobadda, who became afterwards an illustrious convert. Buddha
continued his way towards Baranathee, and soon reached the solitude of
Migadawon, a little distant from Baranathee, and went to the place where
lived the five unbelieving Rahans. When they saw him coming at a
distance, they said to each other, "The Rahan Gaudama is in search after
disciples; he has just performed penitential deeds, and he is looking
out for alms and clothes. Let us pay no respect to him in the way of
going out to meet him, of receiving the tsiwaran from his hands, of
presenting him water to wash his feet and preparing a place to sit on;
let him sit wherever he pleases." Such was the plan they concerted among
themselves. But when Buddha drew near, they could adhere no longer to
their resolution. They rose up and went out to welcome his arrival. One
took the tsiwaran from his hands, another the patta, a third one brought
water for the washing of the feet, and a fourth one prepared a becoming
place to rest. Buddha sat in the place that had been prepared for him.
They called him by the name of Gaudama and other appellations, usually
bestowed on ordinary Rahans. Buddha meekly replied to them, "Do not call
me any longer by the name of Gaudama, or any other title bestowed on an
ascetic. I have become a Rahanda; I alone am acquainted with the four
fundamental truths. Now I am come to preach to you the true law. Listen,
O Rahans, to my words; I will lead you to the true state of Neibban. My
law will make you acquainted not only with the truths to be known, but
at the same time point out to you the duties you have to perform, in
order to obtain the state of Arahat. There are four ways leading to
perfection. He who steadily follows them will enjoy the rewards and
merits gained by his exertions. In that position he will see distinctly
his own self; the light of Neibban will break forth upon him. But in
order to obtain the great results I set forth before you, he must
forsake his house and the world, and become a Rahan."
The unbelieving Rahans persisted in not acknowledging him as a Buddha,
and reproached him with going about in search of disciples and in quest
of alms. The same preaching was repeated by Buddha, and the same answer
was returned by his incredulous hearers. At last Buddha, assuming a
lofty and commanding tone, said to them, "I declare unto you that I am a
Buddha, knowing the four great truths and showing the way to Neibban."
The hitherto unbelieving ascetics humbled themselves, and declared their
belief in him and in all that he had taught. From that moment they
entered on the four ways of perfection. The day was that of the full
moon of Watso. The preaching began at the moment when half the disc of
the sun was visible on the western horizon, and half that of the moon
was above the eastern horizon. When completed, the sun had just
disappeared, and the moon's entire globe was visible on the horizon. The
five first converts were named Kautagnya, Baddiha, Wappa, Mahanan, and
Asadzi.
The Nats, guardians of the country of Baranathee[3] and Migadawon,
hearing the sublime instructions delivered by Buddha on this occasion,
cried aloud, "The law which the most excellent Buddha preaches is such
as no man, Pounha or Brahma, can teach." Their united voices were heard
in the lowest seat of Nats; the inhabitants of that seat, catching their
words, repeated them, and they were heard by those of the next seat, and
so on, until they reached the seats of Brahmas, and were re-echoed
through 10,000 worlds. A mighty commotion was felt all over these
worlds.
The five at first unbelieving, but now believing Rahans obtained the
perfection of Thautapati. Buddha often repeated to those that approached
him, "Come to me; I preach a doctrine which leads to the deliverance
from all the miseries attending existence." On that day, being the full
moon of Watso, eighteen koodes (18,000,000,000) of Nats and Brahmas who
had heard his preachings obtained the deliverance. The conversation of
those five Rahans exhibited to the world the splendid and wonderful
sight of six Rahandas assembled in the same place.
At that time, whilst Buddha was in the Migadawon grove, the memorable
conversion of a young layman took place. There was in the country of
Baranathee the son of a rich man, named Ratha. He was of very gentle and
amiable disposition. His father had built for him three palaces for each
season of the year. A crowd of young damsels, skilful in the art of
playing on all sorts of musical instruments, attended him in each of
those palaces. Ratha spent his time in the midst of pleasure and
amusements. On a certain day, while surrounded with female dancers and
singers, he fell into a deep sleep. The musicians, following his
example, laid aside their instruments, and fell asleep too. The lamps,
filled with oil, continued to pour a flood of light throughout the
apartments. Awaking sooner than usual, Ratha saw the musicians all
asleep round him in various and unseemly situations. Some slept with
wide-opened mouths, some had dishevelled hair, some were snoring aloud,
some had their instruments lying on themselves, and others by their
sides. The whole exhibited a vast scene of the greatest confusion and
disorder. Sitting on his couch in a cross-legged position, the young man
silently gazed with amazement and disgust over the unseemly spectacle
displayed before him; then he said to himself, "The nature and condition
of the body constitute indeed a truly heavy burden; that coarser part of
our being affords a great deal of trouble and affliction." Whereupon he
instantly arose from his couch, put on his gilt slippers, and came down
to the door of his apartment. The Nats, who kept a vigilant watch, lest
any one should oppose him in the execution of his holy purpose, kept
open the door of the house, as well as the gate of the city. Ratha, free
from all impediments, directed his steps towards the solitude of
Migadawon. At that time Buddha, who had left his sleeping place at a
very early hour, was walking in front of the house. He saw at a distance
a young man coming in the direction he was in. He instantly stopped his
pacing, and going into his own apartment, sat as usual on his seat,
awaiting the arrival of the young stranger, who soon made his appearance
and stated modestly the object of his visit. Buddha said to him, "O
Ratha! the law of Neibban is the only true one: alone it is never
attended with misery and affliction. O Ratha! come nearer to me; remain
in this place; to you I will make known the most perfect and valuable
law." On hearing these kind and inviting expressions, Ratha felt his
heart overflow with the purest joy. He instantly put off his slippers,
drew nearer to Buddha, bowed down three times before him, withdrew then
to a becoming distance, and remained in a respectful attitude. Buddha
began to preach the law, unfolding successively the various merits
obtained by alms-giving, by a strict performance of all duties and
practices of the law, and, above all, by renouncing the pleasures of
this world. During all the while the heart of the young visitor expanded
in a wonderful manner: he felt the ties that hitherto had bound him as
it were to the world gradually relaxing and giving way before the
unresisting influence of Buddha's words. The good dispositions of the
young hearer were soon remarked by Buddha, who went on explaining all
that related to the miseries attending existence, the passions
tyrannising over the soul, the means wherewith to become exempt from
those passions, and the great ways leading to perfection. After having
listened to that series of instructions, Ratha, like a white cloth that
easily retains the impressions of various colours printed upon it, felt
himself freed from all passions, and reached at once the state of
Thautapati.
Ratha's mother, not meeting her son early, went up as usual to his
apartment, and, to her great surprise, found him gone; moreover she
observed unmistakable marks of his sudden and unexpected departure. She
ran forthwith to her husband, and announced to him the sad tidings. On
hearing of such an unlooked-for event, the father sent messengers in the
direction of the four points of the compass, with positive orders to
search incessantly after his son, and leave no means of inquiry untried.
As to himself he resolved to go to the solitude of Migadawon, in the
hope of finding out some track of his son's escape. He had scarcely
travelled a limited distance, when he observed on the ground the marks
of his son's footsteps. He followed them up, and soon came in sight of
Buddha's resting-place. Ratha was at the time listening with deepest
attention to all the words of his great teacher. By the power of Buddha
he remained hidden from the eyes of his father, who came up, and, having
paid his respects to Gaudama, eagerly asked him if he had not seen his
son. Gaudama bade him sit down and rest after the fatigue of his
journey. Meanwhile he assured him that he would soon see his son.
Rejoiced at such an assurance, Ratha's father complied with the
invitation he had received. Buddha announced his law to this
distinguished hearer, and soon led him to the perfection of Thautapati.
Filled with joy and gratitude, the new convert exclaimed, "O illustrious
Phra, your doctrine is a most excellent one; when you preach it, you do
like him who replaces on its basis an upset cup; like him, too, who
brings to light precious things, which had hitherto remained in
darkness; like him who points out the right way to those that have lost
it; who kindles a brilliant light in the middle of darkness; who opens
the mind's eyes that they might see the pure truth. Henceforth I adhere
to you and to your holy law; please to reckon me as one of your
disciples and supporters." This was the first layman that became a
disciple of Gaudama, in the capacity of Upasaka.[4]
Whilst Buddha was busily engaged in imparting instruction to Ratha's
father, the young man had entered into a deep and solemn meditation over
some of the highest maxims he had heard from his great teacher. He was
calmly surveying, as it were, all the things of this world; the more he
progressed in that great work, the more he felt there was in himself no
affection whatever for anything. He had not yet become a Rahan, nor put
on the Rahan's dress. Phra, who attentively watched all the movements of
his pupil's mind, concluded from his present dispositions that there
could be no fear of his ever returning into the world of passions. He
suddenly caused by his mighty power the son to become visible to his
father's eyes. The father, perceiving on a sudden his son sitting close
by him, said, "Beloved son, your mother is now bathed in tears, and
almost sinking under the weight of affliction caused by your sudden
departure; come now to her, and by your presence restore her to life,
and infuse into her desolated soul some consolation." Ratha, calm and
unmoved, made no reply, but cast a look at his master. Buddha,
addressing Ratha's father, said to him, "What will you have to state in
reply to what I am about to tell you? Your son knows what you know; he
sees what you see; his heart is entirely disentangled from all
attachment to worldly objects; passions are dead in him. Who will now
ever presume to say that he ought to subject himself again to them and
bend his neck under their baneful influence?" "I have spoken rashly,"
replied the father; "let my son continue to enjoy the favour of your
society; let him remain with you for ever and become your disciple. The
only favour I request for myself is to have the satisfaction of
receiving you in my house with my son attending you, and there to enjoy
the happiness of supplying you with your food." Buddha by his silence
assented to his request. No sooner had his father departed than Ratha
applied for the dignity of Rahan, which was forthwith conferred upon
him. At that time there were in the world seven Rahandas.
On the following morning, Gaudama, putting on his yellow tsiwaran, and
carrying the patta under his arm, attended by the Rahan Ratha, sallied
from his house, and went, according to his promise, to the place of
Ratha's father, to receive his food. He had scarce entered the house and
occupied the seat prepared for him, when the mother of the new Rahan and
she who was formerly his wife came both to pay him their respects.
Buddha preached to them the law, explaining in particular the three[5]
principal observances becoming their sex and condition. The effect of
the preaching was immediate and irresistible: they became exempt from
all sins, and attained the state of the perfect, of Thautapati, and
became, among the persons of their sex, the first Upasakas. They desired
to be ranked among his disciples, and devoted themselves to his service.
They were the first persons of their sex who took refuge in the three
precious things, Buddha, his law, and the assembly of the perfect.
Gaudama and his faithful attendant, having eaten the excellent and
savoury food prepared for them, departed from the house and returned to
the monastery.
Four young men[6] belonging to the most illustrious families of
Baranathee, and formerly connected with Ratha by the ties of intimate
friendship, having heard that their friend had shaved his head and
beard, had put on a yellow dress and become a Rahan, said among
themselves: "Our friend has withdrawn from the society of men, given up
all pleasures, and has entered into the society of Rahans. There can be
no doubt but the law of Wini[7] is most excellent and sublime, and the
profession of Rahan most perfect." Whereupon they came to the place
their friend resided in, prostrated themselves before him, as usual in
such circumstances, and sat down at a respectful and becoming distance.
Ratha took them before Buddha, praying him to deliver to those who had
been his friends in the world the same instructions he had received from
him. Gaudama willingly assented to his request, and forthwith began to
explain to them the nature and abundance of merits derived from
alms-giving. He initiated them into the knowledge of the chief precepts
and observances of the law. These young hearers received with a cheerful
heart his instructions, and felt within themselves an unknown power,
dissolving gradually all the ties that had hitherto retained them in the
world of passions. Delighted at remarking so good dispositions in those
young men, Gaudama explained to them the higher doctrine of the four
great and fundamental truths which lead to perfection.[8] When the
preaching was over, they applied for and obtained the dignity of Rahans.
There were at that time eleven Rahandas in the whole world.
Fifty other young men of good descent, who had been the companions of
Ratha while in the world, having heard that their friend had left the
world, had put on the yellow garb and become Rahan, said to each other:
"The law which our friend listened to may not be a bad one; the
profession he has entered into may not be as despicable as many people
are wont to assert." They resolved to judge for themselves and to be
eye-witnesses to all that had been said on the subject. They set out for
the monastery Ratha was living in, came into his presence, paid their
respects to him, and stopped at a proper distance in a respectful
posture. Hatha led them to his great teacher, humbly craving for his
former friends the same favour he had done to him. Buddha graciously
assented to the request, and imparted instruction to his young hearers,
with such a happy result that they instantly applied for admittance to
the dignity of Rahans. This favour was granted to them. The total number
of Rahandas was thereby raised to sixty-one.
On a certain day, Gaudama called his disciples into his presence,[9] and
said to them: "Beloved Rahans, I am exempt from the five great passions
which, like an immense net, encompass men and Nats. You too, owing to
the instructions you have received from me, enjoy the same glorious
privilege. There is now incumbent on us a great duty, that of labouring
effectually in behalf of men and Nats, and procuring to them the
invaluable blessing of the deliverance. To the end of securing more
effectually the success of such an undertaking, let us part with each
other and proceed in various and opposite directions, so that not two of
us should follow up the same way. Go ye now and preach the most
excellent law, expounding every point thereof, and unfolding it with
care and attention in all its bearings and particulars. Explain the
beginning, the middle, and the end of the law to all men, without
exception; let everything respecting it be made publicly known and
brought to the broad daylight. Show now to men and Nats the way leading
to the practice of pure and meritorious works. You will meet, doubtless,
with a great number of mortals, not as yet hopelessly given up to their
passions, and who will avail themselves of your preaching for
reconquering their hitherto forfeited liberty, and freeing themselves
from the thraldom of passions. For my own part, I will direct my course
towards the village of Thena situated in the vicinity of the solitude of
Ooroowela."
At that time the wicked Nat Manh came into the presence of Buddha, and
tempted him in the following manner: "Men and Nats," said he, "have the
five senses; through those five senses passions act upon them, encompass
their whole being, and finally keep them bound up with the chains of an
unresistible slavery. As to you, Rahan, you are not an exception to that
universal condition, and you have not yet outstepped the boundaries of
my empire." Phra replied: "O vile and wretched Nat! I am well acquainted
with the passions men and Nats are subjected to. But I have freed myself
from them all, and have thereby placed myself without the pale of your
empire; you are at last vanquished and conquered." Manh, yet undismayed,
replied: "O Rahan, you may be possessed of the power of flying through
the air; but even in that condition, those passions which are inherent
in the nature of mortal beings will accompany you, so that you cannot
flatter yourself of living without the boundaries of my empire." Phra
retorted: "O wicked Nat, concupiscence and all other passions I have
stifled to death in me so that you are at last conquered." Manh, the
most wretched among the wretched, was compelled to confess with a broken
heart that Phra had conquered him, and he instantly vanished away.
Full of fervour in preaching the law, the Rahans saw themselves
surrounded with crowds of converts, who asked for the dignity of Rahan.
They poured in daily from all parts, into the presence of Buddha to
receive at his hands the much-longed-for high dignity.[10] Buddha said
to them, "Beloved Rahans, it is painful and troublesome both to you and
to those who desire to be admitted into our holy brotherhood to come
from such a great distance to me. I now give to you the power of
conferring the dignity of Patzin and Rahan on those whom you may deem
worthy to receive it. This is the summary way you will have to follow on
such occasions. Every candidate shall have his hair and beard shaved,
and shall be provided with the tsiwaran of yellow colour. These
preliminaries being arranged, the candidate, with the extremities of the
kowot thrown over his shoulders, shall place himself in a squatting
position, his joined hands raised to the forehead, repeating three
times, 'I adhere to Buddha, to the law, and to the assembly of the
perfect.'"
Gaudama, assembling again round him the Rahans, said to them, "Beloved
Rahans, it is owing to my wisdom, aided by constant reflection and
meditation, that I have at last reached the incomparable state of
Arahatapho; endeavour all of you to follow my example, and arrive at
last at the same state of excellence and perfection."
The vile and wretched Nat Manh appeared again before Buddha, striving to
tempt him in the same manner as before. Buddha, discovering the snares
laid down by the tempter, returned the same reply. Finding himself
discovered, Manh vanished from his presence.
Having spent his first lent[11] in the solitude of Migadawon, Phra
shaped his course in the direction of the forest of Ooroowela. On his
way to that place he stopped for a while in a jungle, and sat under a
tree, to enjoy some rest under its cool shade. At that time thirty young
noblemen had come to the jungle to indulge in sports and diversions.
Each of them had brought his wife, with the exception of one, who,
having no wife, was accompanied by a harlot. During the night the harlot
rose up unperceived, picked up the best articles belonging to the
parties, and carrying them with her, took to her heels through the dense
forest. In the morning the thirty young noblemen, rising up, soon
perceived the havoc made in the richest articles of their dress, and set
out in search of her who they suspected had done the mischief. They came
by chance to the spot where Gaudama was sitting in a cross-legged
position, and inquired from him whether he had seen a woman passing by.
Buddha said to them, "Which, in your opinion, is the best and most
advantageous thing, either to go in search of yourselves or in search of
a woman?" They replied, "Of course it is preferable to look after
ourselves." "If so," replied Buddha, "stay with me for a while; I will
preach my law to you, and, with its help, you will arrive at the
knowledge of self, and thence at perfection." They cheerfully assented
to his request, listened attentively to his instructions, and obtained
the state of perfect believers, but in various degrees, according to
their respective dispositions. They gave up the habit of drunkenness
they had hitherto indulged in, and persevered in the observance of the
five great precepts.
[It is to be remarked, adds the Burmese translator, that this happy
result was secured to the fortunate hearers by the influence of good
works made during former existences.[12]]
Gaudama, having so happily completed the conversion of those young
noblemen, rose up and continued his journey in the direction of the
forest of Ooroowela. At that time there were three distinguished and
far-famed teachers who presided over a vast number of Rathees or
disciples leading an ascetic life. They were named Ooroowela Kathaba,
Nadi Kathaba, and Gaya Kathaba. The first had under him five hundred
disciples, the second three hundred, and the third two hundred. Buddha
went up to the monastery of Ooroowela Kathaba, and said to him, "I carry
but a few articles with me, and need but a small place to rest in; I beg
of you to be allowed to spend the night only in your kitchen." Kathaba
answered: "Since you have so few things with you, I willingly allow you
to accommodate yourself in the best way you can in the cook-room; but I
must inform you that the Naga guardian of the place is an animal of a
very wicked temper, powerfully strong, and having a most deadly venom."
"I fear not the Naga," replied Buddha; "I am well satisfied with your
allowing me a place in the cook-room." Whereupon he entered into the
kitchen, sat down in a cross-legged position, and, keeping his body in
an erect posture, remained absorbed, as it were, in the deepest
contemplation. The Naga soon appeared, and irritated at seeing that a
stranger presumed to remain in a place committed to his care, resolved
to drive out the intruder. He began to vomit a cloud of smoke which he
directed at the face of the stranger. Buddha said to himself, "I will do
no harm to that Naga; I will leave intact his skin, flesh, and bones;
but I will conquer him with the very same weapons he uses against me."
Whereupon he emitted by his own power such a volume of thick smoke as
soon to silence his adversary, and oblige him to have recourse to more
effectual means of attack. He vomited out burning flames. Phra opposed
flames far more active and destructive than those of the Naga. They
shone forth with such an uncommon brightness as to attract a number of
Rathees, who stood motionless, admiring the beautiful countenance of
Buddha, and wondering at his matchless power. The Naga, vanquished, gave
up the contest, and left to Buddha the undisputed possession of the
cook-room during the whole night. In the morning opening his patta, Phra
thrust in the terrified Naga, and brought it to Ooroowela Kathaba, who,
surprised at the power of the stranger, said, "This Rahanda cannot as
yet be compared to me." He desired him to stay in his monastery,
promising to supply him with food as long as he should be with him. Phra
accepted the proffered invitation, and fixed his residence in the midst
of a grove little distant from the cell of Kathaba. Whilst he was there,
four chiefs of Nats of the seat of Tsadoomarit came at midnight to the
spot where rested Phra. They were very handsome, and a bright hue,
encompassing their bodies, filled the grove with a resplendent light.
Kathaba, surprised, came to Buddha, and said to him, "Great Rahan, the
hour of taking your food is at hand; your rice is ready, come and eat
it. How is it that at midnight there was such an uncommon splendour? One
would have thought that the whole forest in the neighbourhood was lined
with immense fires, spreading a blaze of light." Phra answering said,
"This wonder was caused by the presence of four chiefs of Nats that came
to visit me and hear my preachings." Kathaba said to himself, "Great
indeed must be the virtue of this Rahan, since Nats come to see him and
acknowledge him for their teacher. He is not yet, however, my equal."
Buddha ate his rice, and went back to the same place.
On another occasion, in the middle of the night, the chief of Thagias
came to the grove of Buddha, and by his power caused a flood of light
similar to that produced by a thousand lighted fires to pour its
effulgent rays in every direction. In the morning, Kathaba went to the
great Rahan inviting him to come and eat his rice. Meanwhile he asked
him the reason of the wonderful light that had been kept up about from
midnight until morning, which surpassed in brilliancy that which had
been seen on a former occasion. Phra told him that he had been visited
by the chief of Thagias, who came for the purpose of hearing his
instructions. Kathaba thought within himself: "Great indeed is the glory
and dignity of this Rahan, but he is not as yet a Rahanda." Phra ate his
food, and continued to stay in the same grove.
On another occasion, at the same late hour, Phra received the visit of
the chief of the Brahmas. The flood of light that was sent forth by his
body surpassed in effulgent splendour all that had been seen. Kathaba
came as usual, in the morning, to invite the great Rahan to come and
take his food, requesting him at the same time to inform him of the
cause of the great wonder that had just taken place. Phra told him that
the chief of Brahmas had waited upon him to listen to his preachings.
Kathaba wondered the more at the dignity of this great Rahan, who
attracted round him so eminent a visitor. But he said within himself:
"This Rahan is not yet a Rahanda that can be compared to me." Phra
partook of his food, and continued his stay in the same grove.
On a certain day, the people of the country had prepared offerings on a
large scale to be presented to Kathaba. On hearing this welcome news,
the Rathee thought within himself as follows: "The people are disposing
everything to make large offerings to me. It is as well this Rahan
should not be present on the occasion. He might make a display of his
power in the presence of the multitude, who, taken up with admiration
for his person, would make great offerings to him, whilst I should see
my own decrease in a proportion. To-morrow I will contrive in such a way
as to prevent the great Rahan from being present." Buddha discovered at
a glance all that was going on in Kathaba's mind. Unwilling to offer any
annoyance to his host, he conveyed himself to the island of Ootoogara,
where he collected his meal, which he came to eat on the banks of the
lake Anawadat. He spent the whole day there, and by his miraculous power
he was back to his grove at an early hour on the following day. The
Rathee came as usual, to invite him to partake of his meal that was
ready, and inquired from him why he had not made his appearance on the
day previous. Buddha, without the least emotion that could betray an
angry feeling, related to Kathaba all that had passed in his mind, and
informed him of the place he had been to. Kathaba, astonished at what he
heard, said to himself: "The knowledge of this Rahan is transcendent
indeed, since he is even acquainted with the thoughts of my mind; his
power too is wonderfully great; but withal, he is not as yet a Rahanda
comparable to me." Buddha, having eaten his meal, withdrew to his grove.
On a certain day Buddha wished to wash his dress. A Thagia, knowing the
thought that occupied his mind, dug a small square tank, and approaching
him respectfully, invited him to wash his tsiwaran therein. Buddha then
thought: Where shall I find a stone to rub it upon? The Thagia, having
brought a stone, said to him: "Illustrious Phra, here is a stone to rub
your tsiwaran on." He thought again: Where is a proper place to dry it
upon? The Nat that watched the tree Yekada caused it to bend its
branches, and said: "My lord, here is a fit place to hang up your
tsiwaran." He thought again: Where is a fit spot to extend my clothes
upon? The chief of Thagias brought a large and well-polished stone, and
said: "O illustrious Phra, here is a fit place to lay your tsiwaran
upon." In the morning, Kathaba repaired as usual to his guest's place,
to invite him to take his meal. Surprised at what he perceived, he said
to Buddha: "O Rahan, formerly there were here neither tank nor stone;
how is it that they are here now? How is it, moreover, that the tree
Yekadat is now bending down its branches?" Phra related then to the
Rathee all that had happened, informing him that the chief of Thagias
and one Nat had done all those works for him, and ministered to all his
wants. Kathaba wondered more than before at the great virtue and
surpassing excellency of the great Rahan; but he persisted in his former
opinion, that the great Rahan was not a Rahanda that could equal him.
Buddha, having taken his meal, returned to his grove.
On another occasion, the Rathee went to Buddha's place, to invite him to
come and partake of his meal. "Very well," said Buddha, "I have a small
business to do now; go beforehand, and I will follow you a few moments
hence." Whereupon Kathaba went back to his cell. As to Phra, he went to
pluck a fruit from the jambu tree, and arrived at the eating place
before Kathaba could reach it. The Rathee, on arriving there, was quite
surprised to find Phra already waiting for him. "How is this?" said he,
with an unfeigned feeling of surprise, "and by what way did you come and
contrive to arrive here before me?" Phra said to him: "After your
departure, I plucked one fruit from a jambu tree, and yet I have reached
this spot sooner than you. Here is the fruit I have brought. It is as
full of flavour as it is beautiful; allow me to present you with it,
that you may eat it." "O! no, great Rahan," replied the Rathee, "it is
not becoming that I should eat it, but rather keep it for yourself." He
thought within himself: "Wonderful is indeed the power and eminent
excellency of that great Rahan; but he is not as yet a Rahan that can be
ranked to me." Phra ate his rice, and returned to his grove.
On another day, Phra gave a fresh proof of his miraculous power, by
bringing to Kathaba a mango fruit, plucked from a mango tree growing
near the jambu tree, and so went on for several days, bringing fruits
that grew at the extremity of the southern island. On another day, Phra
ascended to the seat of Tawadeintha, and brought therefrom a beautiful
water-lily, and yet arrived at the place where his meal was ready before
Kathaba himself. The latter, quite amazed at seeing a flower from the
Nat country, thought within himself: "Wonderful, indeed, is the power of
that great Rahan, who has brought here, from the seats of Nats, a
beautiful lily in such a short space of time; but he is not as yet equal
to me."
On a certain day, the Rathees were busy splitting firewood. They got a
large log of wood upon which their united efforts could make no
impression. Kathaba thought within himself: "The great Rahan is gifted
with mighty power; let us try him on this occasion." He desired Gaudama
to split the hard log. Gaudama split it in a moment in five hundred
pieces. The Rathees then tried to light up the fuel, but they could not
succeed. Kathaba requested his guest to come to their assistance. In an
instant, the five hundred pieces were set in a blaze, and presented the
terrifying sight of five hundred large fires. The Rathees begged the
great Rahan to extinguish those fires which threatened a general
conflagration. Their request was instantaneously granted; the five
hundred fires were extinguished.
During the cold season in the months of January and February, when a
heavy cold dew falls, the Rathees amused themselves with plunging and
swimming in the river Neritzara. Phra caused five hundred fires to blaze
out on the banks of the river. The Rathees, coming out of the stream,
warmed themselves by the side of those fires. They all wondered at the
astonishing power of the great Rahan. But Kathaba persisted in saying
that he was not a Rahanda like him.
On a certain day, a great rain poured in torrents, so that the water
overflowed all the country, but it did not reach the spot Gaudama stood
upon. He thought within himself: It is good that I should create a
beautiful dry road in the midst of the water. He did so, and walked on
the dry road, and clouds of dust rose in the air. Kathaba, much
concerned regarding the fate of his guest, took a boat, and, with the
assistance of his disciples, pulled in the direction of Buddha's grove;
but what was their surprise, when reaching the spot they found, instead
of water, a firm dry road, and Buddha calmly walking to and fro. "Is it
you, great Rahan," cried Kathaba, "whom we see here?" "Yes," replied
Gaudama, "it is I indeed." He had scarcely returned this answer, when he
rose in the air and stood for a while above the boat. Kathaba thought
again within himself: "Great indeed must be the perfections and
attainments of the great Rahan, since water even cannot harm him, but he
is not yet a Rahanda like me." Phra, who knew what was taking place in
Kathaba's mind, said to himself: Long time has this Rathee kept thinking
within himself: This Rahan is great, but I am still greater than he; it
is time now that I should inspire him with fear and surprise. Addressing
Kathaba, he said: "Rathee, you are not a Rahanda that has arrived to the
perfection of Arahat; you have never performed the meritorious actions
of the four ways to perfection; you are not, therefore, a Rahanda. But I
have, during former existences, carefully attended to those practices
which have enabled me to reach perfection, and finally obtain the
Buddhaship." Astonished at such an unexpected declaration, Kathaba
humbled himself, fell on his knees, and prostrated himself at the feet
of Buddha, saying: "Illustrious Phra, I wish to become Rahan under your
direction." Phra replied: "Kathaba, you have under you five hundred
Rathees, go and inform them of all that has happened." Whereupon Kathaba
went to the place where the Rathees had assembled, and said to them: "I
wish to place myself under the direction of the great Rahan." The five
hundred Rathees told him that they were willing to follow his example,
since he had been hitherto to them such an excellent teacher. They rose
up, and, collecting their utensils, such as the twisted hairs, and
forked staff, the hairy girdle, the honey filtre, &c., flung them into
the river; then they came, and, prostrating themselves at the feet of
Buddha, craved admittance to the dignity of Rahans.
Nadi Kathaba, seeing the utensils floating on the water and carried down
by the stream, called his followers and said to them: "Some misfortune
must have befallen my elder brother; let us go and see what has
happened." They were no sooner arrived, than Kathaba related to them all
that had just taken place. Nadi Kathaba went forthwith to Buddha's cell,
attended all his disciples. Falling all at the feet of Phra, they
declared their readiness to become his disciples, and applied for the
dignity of Rahan. Gaya Kathaba, who lived a little below the place of
Nadi Kathaba, seeing on the surface of the water the utensils of the
followers of both his brothers floating in the direction of the stream,
hastened, with his two hundred disciples, to the place of Ooroowela
Kathaba. On his being informed of all that had occurred, he and his
followers threw themselves at Gaudama's feet, praying for admittance
into the order of Rahans. They were all admitted. The conversion of
Ooroowela Kathaba was brought about by the display, on the part of
Buddha, of no less than three thousand five hundred and sixty
wonders.[13]
FOOTNOTES
[1] I have, except on one occasion, always made use of the terms
meditation and contemplation to express the inward working of
Buddha's mind during the forty-nine days he spent at the foot of
the banyan tree. But the Burmese translator most commonly
employs a much stronger expression, conveying the idea of trance
and ecstasy. Hence after having remained seven days on the same
spot, deeply engaged in considering some parts of the law he was
soon to preach, it is said of him that he comes out from a state
of perfect ecstasy. This expression implies a state of complete
mental abstraction, when the soul, disentangled from the
trammels of sense, raises itself above this material world,
contemplates pure truth and delights in it. All her faculties
are taken up with the beauty and perfection of truth; she clings
to it with all her might, regardless of all the illusions this
world is filled with. This situation of the soul is much
esteemed by all fervent Buddhists. It is the lot of but a few
privileged Rahans, who have made great progress in perfection,
and obtained an almost entire mastery over their passions and
senses. This great gift is, as one may well imagine, ardently
coveted by many, who, though not possessing it, lay claim to it
on false pretences. This being a sin devotees who relish a
contemplative life are very liable to, which the framer of the
regulations of the Buddhist monks has pronounced as _ipso facto_
excluding from the society all those who would falsely claim the
possession of uncommon spiritual attainments which they have
not. In the book of ordination used for the admission of
candidates to the order of Rahans or talapoins, this sin is the
last of the four offences which deprive a member of the order of
his dignity, and cause his expulsion from the society.
[2] The five Rahans alluded to are the very same individuals who
met Phralaong in the solitude at the time he was undergoing a
great fast and performing all sorts of works of self-denial and
corporal austerities in the most rigorous manner. During all the
time he spent in those hard exercises of strict mortification,
to conquer his passions and secure the complete triumph of the
mind over the senses, he was assisted in all his wants by those
five Rahans, who rendered to him the usual services disciples
are wont to perform to their teacher. When they saw Phralaong at
the end of his mighty efforts in that great struggle resuming
the habits of a mendicant, they left him at once, unwilling to
believe that he would ever become a Buddha. Our Phra, not
unmindful of the good services he had received from them,
resolved to impart first to them the blessings of his
preachings. Alara and Oodaka, his two first teachers in the
science of Dzan, were destined to be the first who would have
heard the good news had they not been dead. Gratitude seems to
have been the first and main motive that induced him to select
as the first objects of his mission the very same persons who
had been instrumental in furthering his efforts to acquire the
Buddhaship.
The unpleasant epithet of heretic is given to those five Rahans,
as well as to another named Upaka, as designed to mean that they
held tenets at variance with those of Buddha, and refused to
acknowledge him as possessed of the perfect intelligence.
Buddhists, in their writings, invariably call their opponents by
the name of holders of false doctrines. The Brahmins or Pounhas
who refused to seek refuge in Buddha, his law, and the assembly
of his disciples, are spoken of as professors of heterodoxical
doctrines.
From the narrative of this Legend we may conclude, with a
probability amounting almost to certitude, that Buddha in his
preachings addressed himself first to the Brahmins, as being by
their caste the most influential portion of the Hindu community.
Those that are called by the name of Pounhas are the Brahmins
living in the world and following the ordinary pursuits of life.
Those that are mentioned by the names of Rahans and Rathees are
probably Brahmins, or at least belong to some other
distinguished caste like that of the Kchatrias, but are members
of some religious order or ascetics. They were in those days men
whom, in imitation of the ancient Greeks, we may call
philosophers, and who belonged to one or other of the branches
into which the great Indian school was divided. We may
conjecture that at that time India exhibited a scene much
resembling that which Greece subsequently offered to the eyes of
the observer in the days of Socrates and Plato, when schools of
philosophy were to be met with in every direction. The Hindu
philosophers, favoured by climate and their ardent imagination,
carried much further than the Greek wise men, both in theory and
practice, the discussion of dogmas and the fervour of religious
practices. If credit is to be given to our Legend in a
historical point of view, we may safely conclude that such was
the state of India when Buddha began his preachings. His first
hearers were Rahans, Rathees, and Pounhas, that is to say, the
most learned and wisest men in those days. The latter in
particular seemed at first disinclined to offer opposition to
Buddha; they listened to him as to a distinguished philosopher;
his arguments were examined, discussed, and answered by them in
the best way they could. In that polemical warfare, arguments
were at first the only offensive and defensive weapons used and
handled by the combatants on both sides. Buddha's two favourite
doctrines of Atheism and Neibban, which established the two
broad lines of separation between the two systems, begat much
discussion and created some animosity between him and his
adversaries. But what widened the gap between the two parties,
and placed them in a hostile array against each other, was the
broad principle of equality amongst men, latent in the bosom of
Buddha's doctrines, and levelled at the distinction of castes.
Buddha preached to men of all conditions without exception; he
opened before all the ways that lead to Neibban; made no
distinction between man and man, except that which is drawn by
virtue and vice, merits and demerits. He allowed every one to
approach him and take rank among his disciples; faith in his
doctrine entitled any man to be numbered amidst his followers;
the entrance into the order of Rahans or perfect was open to all
those who, by their meritorious actions and renouncing the
world, qualified themselves for this dignity. This principle,
which put on a footing of equality men of all castes and
nations, and recognised no real superiority but that which is
conferred by virtue and merit, could not prove agreeable to the
proud Brahmins. It provoked, by its gradual development, the
animosity of the opponents of Buddha's doctrines. The battle of
arguments, after having raged with various success, was
afterwards converted into one of a bloody character, which ended
in the total extermination or expulsion of the Buddhists from
the Indian peninsula.
[3] The mission of Buddha is not, as previously observed,
confined to men living on earth, but it extends its beneficial
action over all the beings inhabiting the six seats of Nats and
sixteen of Brahmas. Those beings, the latter in particular, are
much advanced in perfection, but they are not yet ripe for the
sublime state of Neibban. Though freed, at least the Brahmas,
from the influence of passions, they retain as yet some
inclination for matter; they want the help of a Buddha to break
at once the few slender ties that retain them in the state of
existence.
The first preaching of Buddha was rewarded with the conversion
of five Rahans, and of a countless number of Nats and Brahmas.
Such a plentiful harvest he could scarcely anticipate to reap;
and the beginning of his career, attended with such wonderful
success, amply repaid him for the extraordinary exertions he
made in order to qualify himself for the Buddhaship. The author
of the Legend remarks, with an unfeigned pleasure, that owing to
the conversion of the five Rahans, the worlds witnessed the
beautiful sight of six Rahandas congregated on the same spot.
The Rahanda has attained the summit of perfection; he has
arrived at the last existence; his death will relieve him from
the burden of existence, and open to him the way leading to
perfect rest, to complete abstraction--in a word, to Neibban.
The Rahandas rank first among the disciples and hearers of
Buddha; they constitute the _elite_ of his followers, and form
the most distinguished portion of the assembly or congregation
of the perfect. We have already stated that the members
composing the assembly of the hearers were divided into distinct
sections, and formed different degrees, according to the
difference of their respective progress on the way of
perfection.
[4] It may be interesting to give an abridgment of an
instruction or sermon delivered by Gaudama to a Nat. It will be
as a fair specimen of other similar performances. The Nat made
his appearance at nightfall, and respectfully entreated Buddha
to deliver certain instructions which would enable men to come
to the understanding of many points of the law on which they had
hitherto fruitlessly meditated. Buddha was then in the monastery
of Dzetawon, in the country of Thawattie. This sermon is
supposed to have been repeated by Ananda, who had heard it from
the mouth of Buddha himself. It is, according to the Burmese,
the most excellent sermon; it contains thirty-eight points.
"Young Nat," said Buddha, "here are the most excellent things
men and Nats ought to attend to, in order to capacitate
themselves for the state of Neibban: to shun the company of the
foolish; to be always with the wise; to proffer homage to those
that are deserving of it; to remain in a place becoming one's
condition; to have always with one's self the influence of
former good works; steadily to maintain a perfect behaviour; to
be delighted to hear and see much, in order to increase
knowledge; to study all that is not sinful; to apply one's self
to acquire the knowledge of Wini. Let every one's conversation
be regulated by righteous principles; let every one minister to
the wants of his father and mother; provide all the necessaries
for his wife and children; perform no action under the evil
influence of temptation; bestow alms; observe the precepts of
the law; assist one's relatives and friends; perform no actions
but such as are exempt from sin; be ever diligent in such
avoiding, and abstain from intoxicating drink. Let no one be
remiss in the practice of the law of merits. Let every one bear
respect to all men; be ever humble; be easily satisfied and
content; gratefully acknowledge favours; listen to the preaching
of the law in its proper time; be patient; delight in good
conversation; visit the religious from time to time; converse on
religious subjects; cultivate the virtue of mortification;
practise works of virtue; pay attention always to the four great
truths; keep the eyes fixed on Neibban. Finally, let one in the
middle of the eight afflictions of this world be, like the
Rahanda, firm, without disquietude, fearless, with a perfect
composure. O young Nat, whoever observes these perfect laws
shall never be overcome by the enemies of the good: he shall
enjoy the peace of Ariahs."
Within a narrow compass, Buddha has condensed an abridgment of
almost all moral virtues. The first portion of these precepts
contains injunctions to shun all that may prove an impediment to
the practice of good works. The second part inculcates the
necessity of regulating one's mind and intention for a regular
discharge of the duties incumbent on each man in his separate
station. Then follows a recommendation to bestow assistance on
parents, relatives, and all men in general. Next to that, we
find recommended the virtues of humility, resignation,
gratitude, and patience. After this, the preacher insists on the
necessity of studying the law, visiting religious, conversing on
religious subjects. When this is done, the hearer is commanded
to study with great attention the four great truths, and keep
his mind's eye ever fixed on the happy state of Neibban, which,
though as yet distant, ought never to be lost sight of. Thus
prepared, the hearer must be bent upon acquiring the
qualifications befitting the true sage. Like the one mentioned
by the Latin poet, who would remain firm, fearless, and unmoved,
even in the midst of the ruins of the crumbling universe, the
Buddhist sage must ever remain calm, composed, and unshaken
among all the vicissitudes of life. Here is again clearly
pointed out the final end to be arrived at, viz., that of
perfect mental stability. This state is the foreshadowing of
that of Neibban.
[5] From the perusal of this Legend, it can be remarked that
Buddha, in the course of his preachings, withheld from no one
the knowledge of his doctrine, but, on the contrary, aimed at
popularising it in every possible way. In this respect he widely
differed from the Brahmins, who enveloped their tenets in a
mysterious obscurity, and even in that state of
semi-incomprehensibility, condescended to offer them to the
consideration of but a few selected adepts. But Buddha followed
quite an opposite course. He preached to all without exception.
On this occasion we see him engaged in explaining to the mother
and wife of Ratha duties truly becoming their sex and position.
He warned them against the danger of speaking too much, or
speaking hastily and with a tone of dissatisfaction. He desired
them to be always cool and moderate in their conversation, and
to take a pleasure in conversing on religious topics, such as
the practice of the ten great duties, the merits of almsgiving,
and on the other precepts of the law. He showed to them the
unbecomingness of inconsistency in speaking, and finally
concluded by exhorting them to allow wisdom to guide them in the
right use of the faculty of speech. Every one will agree in this
that the lecture was a very appropriate one, and would suit
women of our days as well as those of Buddha's times.
It is not easy to determine whether these two female converts
became Rahanesses by forsaking the world and devoting all their
time to religious observances, or simply believed in Buddha's
doctrines and continued to live in the world. The Burmese
translator makes use of expressions liable to both
interpretations. I feel inclined to adopt the second
supposition. They became female Upasakas, and continued to live
in the world. We shall see, hereafter, that Gaudama's aunt,
Patzapati, was the first, after much entreating, who was allowed
to become a Rahaness.
The great former of the Buddhistic disciplinary regulations has
also laid down rules for the institution and management of an
order of female devotees, to match, as it were, with that of
talapoins. Hence in almost all countries where Buddhism
flourishes, there are to be met houses and monasteries which are
the abodes of those pious women, who emulate Rahans in the
strict observance of practices of the highest order. Their
dress, except the colour, which is white, is quite similar to
that of talapoins; their head is shaved; they live in strict
continence as long as they continue to wear the dress of their
profession. They have certain formulas of prayer to repeat every
day several times. Their diet is the same as that of talapoins;
they are forbidden to take any food after midday. I am not aware
that they render any service to society in the way of keeping
schools for the benefit of female children. They live on alms
freely bestowed on them by their co-religionists. The Burmese
honour them with the title of Mathi-la-shing, which means ladies
of the religious duties. The order of those female devotees is
now much on the decline; the inmates of houses are but few,
enjoying a very small share of public esteem and respect. They
are generally looked upon with feelings akin to those
entertained towards beggars.
In the Wini, or book of discipline, the relations that are
allowed to subsist between the two orders of male and female
devotees are minutely described and clearly laid down, so as to
prevent the evils that might result from a familiar and
unnecessary intercourse. Thoroughly acquainted with the weakest
side of human nature, the author of the Wini has legislated on
that subject with the utmost circumspection. He allowed rather
aged Rahans to be the spiritual advisers of the Rahanesses, but
he denies them the leave of ever going to their houses under any
pretext whatever. When the latter want to hear preaching or
receive some advice from the Rahans, they resort in broad
daylight to the monastery, are permitted to stay in a large hall
open to the public, at a considerable distance from him whom
they desire to consult. Having briefly and with becoming
reverence made known the object of their visit, and received
some spiritual instructions, they immediately return to their
own place.
The same reflection may be applied to the conversion of Ratha's
father. It is said that he was the first convert out of the body
of laymen. He does not appear to have forsaken the world and
become a first-class convert. He became a Thautapati, and at
once entered one of the four ways leading to perfection, but
remained in the world.
[6] The conversion of Ratha and of his young friends shows to us
distinctly the tendency of Buddha's preachings, and their effect
over those who believed in him. Ratha is represented as a young
worldly-minded man, who, in the midst of riches, has denied
himself to no kind of pleasure. He feels that the enjoyments he
was so fond of can in no manner satisfy the cravings of his
heart: he is disgusted at them, and resolves to withdraw into
solitude, with the intention of placing himself under the
direction of some eminent teacher, and learn from him the way to
happiness. He hopes that the study of philosophy will lead him
to true wisdom and the acquirement of the means that may render
him happy. He luckily falls in with Buddha, who explains to him
that the senses are the instruments through which passions act
upon and tyrannise over the soul, by keeping it in a painful
subjection to matter. He points out to him the necessity of
freeing himself from their control. This principle of Buddhism,
which aims at disengaging the soul from matter, isolating it
from all that proves a burden to it, and delivering it from the
tyrannical yoke of concupiscence, is in itself perfectly
correct, but, carried beyond its legitimate consequences, it
becomes false and absurd. According to Buddhists, the soul,
disentangled from all that exists, finds itself alone without
any object it can adhere to; folding itself up into its own
being, it remains in a state of internal contemplation,
destitute alike of all active feelings of pleasure and pain.
This doctrine was known in the time of Buddha, as far as the
principle is concerned. The Rathees and other sages in those
days upheld it both in theory and practice; but, on the
consequences, the originator of Buddhism was at issue with his
contemporaries, and struck out a new path in the boundless field
of speculative philosophy.
[7] The Wini is one of the great divisions of Buddhistic sacred
writings. The Pitagat, or collection of all the Scriptures, is
divided into three parts--the Thouts, containing the preachings
of Buddha, the Wini, or book of the discipline, and the Abidama,
or the book of Metaphysics. That compilation is supposed to
embody the doctrines of Buddha in a complete manner. These books
have not been written by Buddha himself, since it is said of him
that he never wrote down anything. The first Buddhistic
compositions were certainly written by the disciples of Phra, or
their immediate successors. But there arose some disputes among
the followers of Buddha, as to the genuineness of the doctrines
contained in the various writings published by the chief
disciples. To settle the controversy, an assembly or council of
the most influential members of the Buddhistic creed, under the
presidency of Kathaba, was held about three months after
Gaudama's demise. The writings regarded as spurious were set
aside, and those purporting to contain the pure doctrines of
Phra were collected into one body, and formed, as it were, the
canon of sacred books. The matter so far was settled for the
time being, but the human mind, when unrestrained by authority,
acted in those days with the same result as it does in our own
times. Various and different were the constructions put on the
same text by the expounders of the Buddhistic law. All parties
admitted the same books, but they dissented from each other in
the interpretation. Some of the books hitherto regarded as
sacred were altered or rejected altogether to make room for the
works of new doctors. Confusion prevailed to such an extent,
that an hundred years later a second council was assembled for
determining the authenticity of the real and genuine writings. A
new compilation was made and approved of by the assembly. The
evil was remedied; but the same causes that had exercised so
baneful an influence previously to the time of the second
council soon worked again and produced a similar result. Two
hundred and thirty-five years after Gaudama's death a third
council was assembled. The books compiled by the second council
were revised and apparently much abridged, and with the sanction
of the assembled fathers a new canon of scriptures was issued.
The Pitagat in its present shape is regarded as the work of this
last assembly. All the books are written in the Pali or Magatha
language. In the beginning of the fifth century of our era,
according to our author's computation, a learned man, named
Boudagautha, went to Ceylon, and brought back to Burmah a copy
of the collection of the Pitagat. Then he introduced into this
country the alphabet now in use, and translated into the
vernacular a portion of the scriptures. This important subject
shall receive hereafter fuller development.
[8] The four principles or truths so often alluded to in the
course of this work ought to be well understood, in order to get
a clear insight into the system under consideration. These four
truths are as follows:--1. There are afflictions and miseries
attending the existence of all beings. 2. There are passions
and, in particular, concupiscence, which are the causes of all
miseries. 3. There is Neibban, which is the exemption of all
passions, and, consequently, the deliverance from all miseries.
4. There are the four ways or high roads leading to Neibban.
Here is the summary of the sublime knowledge and transcendent
science possessed by a Buddha: these four fundamental truths
form the four features or characteristics of his law; they
safely guide man in the way to deliverance. The Buddhist sage,
who longs to become perfect, must study with attention the
position of all beings in this world, survey with a patient
regard their diversified conditions, and fathom the depth of the
abyss of miseries in which they are miserably sunk. A vague,
general and superficial knowledge of these miseries is
insufficient to create that perfect acquaintance with human
wretchedness. He ought to examine one after the other those
series of afflictions, until he feels, as it were, their
unbearable weight pressing over his soul. This first step having
been made by the means of reflection, meditation, and
experience, the sage, standing by the side of all miseries that
press upon all beings, as a physician, by the bed of a patient,
inquires into the cause of such an awful moral disorder. He soon
discovers the generating causes of that universal distemper;
they are the passions in general; or rather, to speak more in
accordance with Buddhistic expressions, concupiscence, anger,
and ignorance are the springs all demerits flow from, are the
impure sources wherefrom originate all the miseries and
afflictions this world is filled with. The destruction of those
passions is the main and great object he has in view. He,
therefore, leaves the world and renounces all pleasures and
worldly possessions, in order to extinguish concupiscence; he
practises patience under the most trying circumstances, that
anger may no longer have any power over him; he studies the law,
and meditates on all its points, in order to dispel the dark
atmosphere of ignorance by the bright light of knowledge.
Having advanced so far, the sage has not yet reached the final
object of his desires; he has not yet attained to the end he
anxiously wishes to come to. He is just prepared and qualified
for going in search of it. Neibban, or the _absolute_ exemption
and _permanent_ deliverance from the four causes productive of
existence, or of a state of being, is the only thing he deems
worthy to be desired and earnestly longed for. The sage,
perceiving such a desirable state, sighs after it with all the
powers of his soul. Neibban is to him what the harbour is to the
storm-beaten mariner, or deliverance to the worn-out inmate of a
dark dungeon. But such a happy state is, as yet, at a great
distance; where is the road leading thereto? This is the last
truth the sage has to investigate. The four roads to perfection
are opened before him. These he must follow with perseverance;
they will conduct him to Neibban. They are a perfect belief, a
perfect reflection, a perfect use of speech, and a perfect
conduct.
[9] Buddha, having trained up his disciples to the knowledge of
his doctrines as well as to the practice of his ordinances,
elevates them to the dignity of preachers, or, to be more
correct, makes them fellow-labourers in the arduous task of
imparting to mankind the wholesome knowledge of saving truths.
An unbounded field is opened before him; the number of beings
who are designed to partake of the blessings of his doctrines is
incalculably great. His own efforts will not prove adequate to
the difficulties such a mighty undertaking is encompassed with;
he joins to himself fervent disciples that have reached all but
the farthest limit of perfection by the thorough control they
have obtained over their passions; he considers them as
instruments well fitted for carrying into execution his
benevolent designs, and entrusts them with the mission he has
entered upon. By adopting such a step, the wise founder of
Buddhism establishes a regular order of men, whom he commissions
to go and preach to all living creatures the doctrines they have
learnt from him. The commission he imparted to them was
evidently to be handed down to their successors in the same
office. He may now die, but he is sure that the work he has
begun shall be carried on with zeal and devotedness by men who
have renounced the world and given up all sorts of enjoyments,
that they might engage in the great undertaking with a heart
perfectly disentangled from all ties and impediments of every
description.
In entrusting his disciples with the important duty of teaching
mankind, Buddha, obeying the impulse of his universal charity,
desires them to go all over the world and preach all the truth
to all mortals. He distinctly charges them to announce openly
and unreservedly all that they have heard from him. In these
instructions the plan of Buddha is clearly laid down, and the
features of the mission he assumes distinctly delineated. His
object is to spread his doctrines all over the world and to
bring all beings under his moral sway. He makes no distinction
between man and man, nation and nation. Though belonging by
birth to a high caste, he disregards at once those worldly
barriers whereby men are separated from each other, and
acknowledges no dignity but that which is conferred by virtue.
Bold, indeed, was the step that he took in a country where the
distinction of caste is so deeply rooted in the habits of the
people, that all human efforts have, hitherto, proved abortive
in destroying it. It has already been hinted in a foregoing note
that Gaudama placed himself on a new ground, in opposition to
the Brahminical doctrines. He, doubtless, cautiously avoided to
wound directly the feelings of his antagonists; but, at the same
time, he adroitly sowed the seed of a mighty revolution, that
was to change, if left to grow freely, the face of the Indian
peninsula. His doctrine bore two characteristics, that were to
distinguish it essentially from that of his adversaries; it was
popular and universal, whereas that of his opponents was wrapped
up in a mysterious obscurity, and unfolded completely only to a
privileged caste. Another great difference between the two
systems is this: Buddha paid little attention to the dogmatical
portion of religion, but laid the greatest stress on morals. The
dogmas are few and little insisted on. He aimed at correcting
the vices of the heart, but exerted himself little to redress
the errors of the mind.
[10] In these new instructions delivered to the Rahans, Buddha
gives them the power of receiving into the ranks of the assembly
those of their converts who should prove foremost in
understanding the law and observing its highest practices. He
empowers them to confer on others the dignity of Rahans, and
admit them to the various steps that lead to that uppermost one.
To observe uniformity in the reception of candidates to the
various orders, Buddha laid down a number of regulations
embodied in the Kambawa, or book used as a sort of ritual on the
days of admission of candidates to the dignity of Patzins and
Rahans. The contents of this small but interesting work may be
seen in the notice on the order of talapoins, or Buddhist monks,
inserted at the end of this volume. That the reader may have now
an idea of the general purpose and object of these regulations,
I will sketch a slight outline of them. The candidate, who seeks
for admission among the members of the order, has to appear
before an assembly of Rahans, presided over by a dignitary. He
must be provided with the dress of the order, and a patta or the
pot of a mendicant. He is presented to the assembly by a Rahan,
upon whom devolves the important duty of instructing him in all
that regards the profession he is about to embrace, and lead him
through the ordeal of the ceremony. He is solemnly interrogated
before the assembly on the several defects and impediments which
incapacitate an individual for admission into the order. On his
declaring that he is free from such impediments, he is, with the
consent of the assembled fathers, promoted to the rank of
Patzin. But before he is allowed to take his place among his
brethren, he is instructed in the four principal duties he will
have to observe, and warned against the four capital sins, the
commission of which would deprive him of his high and holy
character, and cause his expulsion from the society.
It is supposed that the candidate, previous to his making
application for obtaining the dignity of Rahan, has qualified
himself by study and a good life for admittance among the
perfect. By surrounding the admission of candidates into the
ranks of the order with a display of ceremonies, the shrewd
framer of these regulations intended to encircle the whole body
with a halo of dignity and sacredness, and at the same time to
provide, as far as human wisdom allows, against the reception of
unworthy postulants.
Hitherto Buddha had reserved to himself alone the power of
elevating hearers or converts to the dignity of Rahans; now he
transfers to his disciples that power and bids them use it as
they had seen him do, in behalf of those whom they deem worthy
applicants. He has established a society, and striven to infuse
into it all the elements necessary for keeping it up hereafter,
and securing its existence and permanency. He sets up a kind of
ecclesiastical hierarchy, which is to be perpetuated during the
ages to come by the same means and power that brought it into
existence.
Having put such a power into the hands of his disciples, Buddha
very properly exhorts them to emulate him in his efforts to
become perfect. He sets himself as a pattern of perfection, and
bids them all imitate the examples he places before them. He
shows briefly to them by what means he has attained the state of
Arahatapho, and stimulates them to the adopting of similar
means. The word Arahatapho is composed of two words--arahat,
which means perfect, and pho or phola, as the orthography
indicates, which means reward, merit. The state of Arahatapho is
that in which a man enjoys the merits or reward of perfection,
which he has reached by the practice of virtue, and particularly
the acquirement of wisdom or knowledge of the highest points of
the law. It is used often in opposition to the word
Arahatamegata, which signifies the ways or roads leading to
perfection.
[11] I have translated by _lent_ the Burmese expression Watso,
which is but the Pali term Wasa, Burmanised. The word "lent,"
which has been adopted, is designed to express not the real
meaning of Wasa, but to convey to the reader's mind the idea of
a time devoted to religious observances. Wasa means a season,
but it is intended to designate the rainy season, which in those
parts of the Peninsula where Buddha was residing begins in July
and ends in November. During that period the communications
between villages and towns are difficult, if not impossible. The
religious mendicants were allowed in former times, very likely
from the very days of Buddha, to retire into the houses of
friends and supporters, from which they went forth occasionally
begging their food. In the beginning, those who were admitted in
the society did not live in community, as was afterwards done in
those countries where Buddhism has been of a long time in a
flourishing condition. They were allowed to withdraw into
solitude, and lead an ascetic life, or to travel from one place
to another to preach the law and make converts. This work could
not be well done during the rainy season. Hence the disciples,
while as yet few in number, gathered round their master during
that period to hear instructions from him, and practise virtue
under his immediate superintendence. They lived with him during
all the time the rainy season lasted. This was called to spend
the season. In the course of this Legend, the same expression is
often met with. It is said of Buddha that he spent a season in
such a place, another in another place, to indicate that he
stayed in one place during the rainy season, which precluded the
possibility of doing the duties of an itinerant preacher.
When the religious order became regularly constituted, and the
basis it was to stand on was fairly laid down, the
ever-increasing number of members made them feel the want of
secluded places where they could live in community, and at the
same time quite retired from the world. Houses or monasteries
were erected for receiving the pious Rahans. The inmates of
those dwellings lived under the direction of a superior,
devoting their time to study, meditation, and the observances of
the law. They were allowed to go out in the morning very early,
to beg and collect the food they wanted for the day. Such is the
state the religious are living in up to our own time in Burmah,
Ceylon, Thibet, Siam, and in the other countries where Buddhism
has been firmly established.
The religious season, or lent, lasts three months. It begins in
the full moon of Watso (July) and ends at the full moon of
Thadinkiout (October). The keeping of the season in Burmah is as
follows:--On the days of the new and full moon crowds of people
resort to the pagodas, carrying offerings of flowers, small
candles, oil, &c. A great many are found to spend the night in
the bungalows erected, chiefly for that purpose, in their
immediate vicinity. Women occupy bungalows separated from those
of men. It must be admitted that there, as in churches, they far
outnumber the men. On such occasions, religion appears to be
rather the pretext than the real object of such assemblies. With
the exception of old men and women, who are heard to converse on
religious topics, and repeat some parts of the law, or recite
some praises in honour of Buddha, the others seem to care very
little for religion. The younger portion of the weaker sex
freely indulge in the pleasure of conversation. It is quite a
treat to them to have such a fine opportunity of giving full
scope to their talkative powers. During that season the pious
faithful are charitably inclined to bestow alms on the Rahans.
All the necessaries of life pour with abundance and profusion
into the monasteries. Besides alms-giving and resorting to the
pagodas, some fervent laymen practise abstinence and fasting to
a certain extent; these, however, are but few. During that
period the Buddhist recluses are often invited to go to certain
places, prepared for the purpose, to preach the law to and
receive alms from crowds of hearers who are gathered thither on
such occasions. Talapoins are generally seated on an elevated
platform, facing the congregation; they keep their large fans
before the face through modesty, to save themselves from the
danger of looking on some tempting object. They repeat in chorus
certain passages of the life of Buddha, enumerate the five great
precepts and other observances of the law. The whole preaching
generally goes on in Pali, that is to say, in a language unknown
to the congregation. When they have done their duty they
withdraw, followed by a great number of their disciples,
carrying back to the monasteries all the offerings made by the
faithful. It happens also, although but seldom in our days, that
some fervent recluses withdraw during the whole or a part of the
lent season into solitary places, living by themselves, and
devoting all their time to reading the books of the law, and
meditating on the most important points and maxims of religion.
[12] The remarks of the Burmese translator afford me an
opportunity of explaining one of the leading tenets of the
Buddhistic creed. All beings in this world are subjected to the
double influence of their merits and demerits. The good
influence predominates when the sum of merits surpasses that of
demerits, and it is superseded by the latter when the contrary
takes place. This principle once admitted, Buddhists explain the
good or evil that befalls every individual in every conceivable
state of existence. Is a man dead, he is attended on his way to
another state of being both by his merits and demerits, who,
like two inseparable companions, follow him whithersoever he
goes. Should the sum of demerits prove greater, he is forced
into hell, or into some other state of punishment, to bear
sufferings proportionately to his offences, until he has fully
paid off his debt, or, to speak the language of Buddhists, until
the sum of his demerits be quite exhausted. If, on the contrary,
at the moment of his death the influence of merits be the
strongest, he is directed into a state of happiness, pleasure,
and enjoyment, say in one of the seats of Nats or Brahmas, and
remains there as long as the action of the good influence lasts.
When it is over he comes again into the abode of man, or in a
state of probation, when he has to labour anew for amassing new
and greater merits, that will hereafter entitle him to a higher
reward than the one he had previously enjoyed. From the
foregoing observations it is evident that the idea of a Supreme
Being rewarding the good and punishing the wicked is carefully
excluded, and all foreign interference on this subject entirely
done away with. Another conclusion flowing from the same source
is, that there is no eternity of reward or punishment, but both
last for a longer or shorter period, in proportion to the sum of
merits and demerits, and consequently to the power of each
influence respectively.
It may be asked what becomes of the sum of demerits and its
consequent evil influence, whilst the superior good influence
prevails? The sum of demerits remains all the while entire and
undiminished; the operation of the evil influence is suspended,
and has no power whatever, its own being checked by a greater
one. But the sum of merits being exhausted, and its inherent
action at an end, the opposite one is set at liberty, and acts
on the individual proportionately to its own strength, and lasts
until it is all exhausted. As man can never be without some
merits or demerits, good or bad deeds, he must be either in a
state of reward or punishment; this is, if I may say so, the
mainspring that moves all beings into the whirlpool of countless
existences, wherein they meet happiness or unhappiness according
to their deserts. The being that tends strongly and
perseveringly through his various existences towards perfection,
weakens gradually, and finally destroys in himself the law of
demerits; he ascends steadily the steps of the ladder of
perfection by the practice of the highest virtues. Having
reached its summit, there is no more reason for his going
through other existences, and he steps at once into the state of
Neibban.
On the above principle Buddhists account for all the various
phases of human existence. Is a child born from rich, great, and
distinguished parents, does he become a wealthy and powerful
man, does he become a king or a nobleman, &c.--he is indebted
for all that to merits acquired during former existences. Is
another child born in a low, poor, and wretched condition, is he
born with bodily or intellectual defects and imperfections, &c.,
&c.--his former demerits are the principle and cause of all his
subsequent misfortunes.
The doctrine of merits and demerits, and of their concomitant
influences, has been fully illustrated in the person of Buddha
himself during his former existences. He said of himself to his
disciples that he had passed with various fortune through the
range of the animal kingdom, from the dove to the elephant; that
being man he had been often in hell, and in various positions of
riches and poverty, greatness and meanness, until by his mighty
efforts he at last freed himself from all evil influence, and
reached his present state of perfection. He is supposed to have
recounted to his disciples on different occasions five hundred
and ten of his former existences.
[13] It has been asserted in a former note that the preachings
of Buddha were accompanied with miracles, to impart an
additional weight and an irresistible evidence to his doctrines.
This assertion is fully corroborated by all the particulars
attending the conversion of the three Kathabas and their
disciples. On this occasion Buddha met with the greatest amount
of stubborn resistance on the part of Ooroowela Kathaba. There
is no doubt but our great preacher resorted to every means of
persuasion to carry conviction to the mind of his distinguished
hearer. He had, however, to deal with a man full of his own
merits and excellence, who thought himself far superior to every
one else. His best arguments proved powerless before a
self-conceited individual, who was used to give and not to
receive instruction, and enjoyed a far-famed celebrity. Buddha
was compelled to resort to his unbounded power of working
miracles, and with it overcame at last the obstinate and blind
resistance of the proud Rathee. No conquest had ever been so
dearly bought; but it proved well worth the extraordinary
efforts made to obtain it. Kathaba became one of the most
staunch adherents of Buddha, and one of the most fervent
disciples, who laboured hard for the propagation of Buddhism. He
is the most celebrated of all Buddhistic monks, and to his name
is ever prefixed the distinguished epithet of Maha, which means
great. After Gaudama's demise, he became the patriarch of the
Buddhists. By his care and exertions, a council of five hundred
Rahans was assembled at Radzagio, under the reign of King
Adzatathat, to condemn the unbecoming language used by some
false or imperfectly taught converts, who wished to shake off,
on many points, the authority of Buddha.
In the episode of the conversion of the three Kathabas, the
attentive reader cannot fail to have observed one particular
that throws some light on the position several heads of
philosophical schools occupied in the days that saw the origin
of Buddhism. Those sages lived in retired places, far from the
bustle and tumult of the world. It is probable that at first
they were alone, or with but a few other individuals who
delighted in the same mode of life. Their time was entirely
taken up with study and meditation. The object of their studies
and reflections was the boundless field of metaphysics and
morals. Their diet was plain, and their abstemiousness carried
to a degree Hindu devotees and fanatics are alone capable of
reaching. The fame of the proficiency of some of those
individuals in science and virtue soon attracted to their
solitude numbers of pupils, eager to place themselves under the
tuition and discipline of masters so eminent in every respect.
The three Kathabas must have been celebrated throughout the
country, since we find them at the head of so many disciples.
Humility has never been the _forte_ of the heathen sages, either
in or out of India. Conceit and self-esteem were fostered in
their souls by the consciousness of their own superiority and
excellence, by the praises lavished on them by their disciples,
and not a little by the seclusion from society to which they
voluntarily resigned themselves. Spiritual pride, like a cunning
foe, occupied in the heart the place vacated by passions of a
coarser nature and less delicate tinge. The conduct of the elder
Kathaba fully bears out the truth and correctness of the above
assertion.