_Voyage to Tsalia -- Instructions to Meggia -- Raoula is made a
professed religious -- Manahan's questions to Buddha --
Misbehaviour of Thouppabuda -- Questions proposed by Nats in the
Dzetawon monastery -- Conversion of a Biloo -- Episode of
Thirima at Radzagio -- Attention paid to a poor pounha and to a
weaver's daughter on account of their faith -- In the twentieth
season, appointment of Ananda to the stewardship -- Conversion
of a famous robber._
After a rather short stay in Thawattie, Buddha went to the town of
Tsalia. The inhabitants built for him a monastery on a hill not far from
the town, and liberally supplied him with all that he wanted. Pleased
with the good reception the people gave him, Gaudama spent on that spot
the thirteenth season. He went to receive his food in the village of
Dzantoo. Thence travelling through the country, he reached the banks of
the river Kimikila and enjoyed himself in a beautiful grove of
mango-trees. The disciple Meggia, being too much taken up with the
beauty of the place, eagerly wished to remain here for some time. As a
punishment for such an inordinate attachment to a particular spot, he
who had renounced the world and the gratification of passions, felt on a
sudden a strange change pass over him. A flood of concupiscence
inundated his soul. Buddha, who saw what was taking place in Meggia,
gave him an instruction on contempt for the things of this world, and
entirely cured him of his great spiritual distemper.
Thence he proceeded to Thawattie into the Dzetawon monastery, where he
spent the fourteenth season. The great disciple Thariputra, with five
hundred religious, was spending the season in a neighbouring village.
The people were so much pleased with him and his company, that they
offered to each of them a piece of yellow silk. Some religious, jealous
of the great disciple, came to Buddha and accused him of covetousness.
Buddha fully justified his great companion and commended the liberality
of the donors, who had thus an opportunity of gratifying their
liberality and gaining merits.
The Thamane Raoula was then twenty years old. Having reached the
canonical age, he was elevated to the dignity of Patzin. The young
religious could scarcely defend himself from a certain feeling of vanity
on account of his father's dignity and his own personal mien and
bearing, which he was very fond of admiring. Buddha was intimately
acquainted with what was going on in Raoula's soul. He preached to him
the contempt of self and of all varieties of form. The instruction was
so impressive that it led the young hearer to the state of Rahanda. On a
certain night when Raoula was sleeping near the door of Gaudama's
private apartment, Manh Nat, wishing to frighten the young Rahanda,
created the likeness of an elephant, which, keeping his trunk over his
head, suddenly made a frightful noise. Buddha, who was inside, saw
clearly that this was only a temptation of the vile Manh. He said to
him, "O wretched one, are you not aware that fear is no longer to be
found in him who has become a Rahanda?" Manh, being discovered, vanished
away, covered with shame and confusion at the abortiveness of his
malicious attempt.
In the same year, Buddha went to Kapilawot, which is in the Thekka
country, and took up his residence in the Nigranda monastery, situated
close to the banks of the river Rohani. At that place he spent the
fifteenth season. On a certain day, his cousin Mahanan, the son of
Thoodaudana, came to the monastery, and having paid his respects to his
illustrious relative, took the liberty to propose to him the four
following questions:--1. In what consists the fulfilment of the
religious duties? 2. What is meant by the religious disposition? 3. What
is the real renouncing? 4. What is the true knowledge?
Buddha replied in the following manner: "The fulfilment of the religious
duties consists in observing carefully the five precepts obligatory on
all men. The religious disposition is but a loving inclination and
affection for all that refers to Buddha and the law that he has
published. He who possesses it experiences a continual longing for the
acquisition of merits. The renouncing is that disposition a man is
habitually in when he finds his pleasure in parting with his riches for
the purpose of relieving the needy and bestowing alms on the members of
the assembly. Finally, wisdom consists in making one's self perfectly
acquainted with what can procure merits for the present and the future;
under its influence man acts up to that knowledge, and also attends with
the utmost diligence to what may put an end to the law of miseries."
Even among his nearest relatives, Buddha was doomed to meet with the
bitterest enemies. Thouppabuda, who was at once his uncle and his
father-in-law, bore to him a deadly hatred, and secretly harboured in
his heart a sentiment of revenge, for two principal reasons, because his
daughter Yathaudara had been abandoned by Gaudama, when he left his
palace and began the life of an ascetic; and also for having admitted
his own son Dewadat among the members of the assembly. Having been
informed that on the following day Buddha would direct his steps towards
a certain quarter of the town to beg his food, Thouppabuda partook
largely of intoxicating liquor, to nerve himself for the execution of
the design he had in his mind, and went out in the direction in which
Gaudama was expected to come. As soon as he saw him drawing near, he
planted himself in the middle of the road, barring the passage, and
loading his great relative with abuses. Buddha stopped awhile without
showing the least sign of emotion. Then turning to Ananda, he said,
"Great is the crime of my uncle; seven days hence he shall be swallowed
up alive by the earth at the foot of the great staircase of his palace."
On this fearful prediction being reported to Thouppabuda, he laughed and
stated that he would stay during eight days in the upper story of his
palace, and belie his nephew's prediction. Despite the precautions that
he took, the fatal prediction was literally fulfilled. The unfortunate
unrepenting prince saw the earth burst open under his feet, and he was
precipitated to the very bottom of the Awidzi hell. Buddha took
advantage of the awful punishment that had befallen a prince of his
family to exhort Mahanan to seek a firm asylum in the three precious
things, to bear a sincere love and an affectionate fondness to all that
related to the law and its practices.
Up to the present period of his life, Buddha had reserved to himself the
right of preaching the law to and extolling the merits of those who had
brought him his food, after having partaken of their liberal donation.
This instruction may be properly called the sermon of thanksgiving. It
is called Anou-mau-dana. Now he allowed his disciples to do the like,
and repay the generosity of their benefactors by distributing unto them
the knowledge of truth.
At that time Buddha preached the four laws of A-sa-wan, or the four
bands that retain a being in the vortex of existences. From Kapilawot
Buddha returned to Thawattie in the Dzetawon monastery. At that time a
Nat had proposed four questions to his companions which they had not
been able to answer. They were subsequently communicated to all the
denizens of the six seats of Nats, but no one had been able to solve the
difficulty. Not knowing what to do, they agreed to refer the particulars
to the most excellent Buddha, then in the Dzetawon monastery. A
deputation was forthwith sent to him with the view of proposing to him
the puzzle, and entreating him to condescend to give the much-desired
solution. The members of the deputation having duly paid their
respects, said to him, "O most excellent Phra, which is the best thing
to be bestowed in alms? Which is the most savoury and relishing of all
things? Which is the most pleasurable? Which is the best and the fittest
thing to put an end to passions?" To these four questions Buddha
answered by one word--"The law." Addressing himself both to the Nats and
to his assembled disciples, he added, "The giving of alms, though good
in itself, cannot introduce a being into the path that leads to the
deliverance. The law alone can afford such a benefit. The preaching of
the law, and the exertions in communicating its knowledge to others, are
therefore the most excellent alms. All that in this world confers
pleasure to the senses is but a means to plunge man into the vortex of
existences, and thereby into all miseries. On the contrary, the hearing
of the law rejoices the heart to such an extent as often to open a
spring of joyful tears; it destroys concupiscence, and leads gradually
out of the whirlpool of existences. It establishes man in the state of
Arahat, which is the end of all passions. The law, therefore, is the
most savoury, the most pleasing thing, leading beings to the cessation
of all miseries. You, my beloved disciples, exert yourselves in making
known by your preaching the said law to all beings. This is the most
excellent alms that you can bestow on the beings that inhabit the three
different states of men, Nats, and Brahmas."
Buddha soon left Thawattie and went to Alawee. A Biloo was in the habit
of eating every day some children of that place. Owing to the ravenous
and horrible appetite of the monster, all the children had been eaten
up; there remained only the child of the king, who was on the following
day to be given over to him. Buddha reviewed, as usual, on a certain
morning the condition of all beings. He saw the sad position of the king
of Alawee and of his son. He resolved to proffer assistance to both, and
also to convert the Biloo. He arrived in the country of Alawee, where he
was received with every mark of respect. He forthwith went into the
forest where the monster lived. At first he met with a most determined
and violent opposition. But, opposing to his enraged antagonist
meekness, patience, and kindness, Buddha gradually softened that
terrible nature. Concealing affectedly the change which was taking place
in him, almost against his perverse inclination, the Biloo said to
Buddha, "I have put certain questions to many famous ascetics, but they
have not been able to answer them. On seeing their utter incapacity, I
have seized them, torn their bodies in pieces, and flung their quivering
limbs into the Ganges. Such shall be your fate, O Gaudama, if your
science fails you on this occasion. By what means can a man get out of
the stream or current of passions? How can he cross over the sea of
existences? How can he free himself from the evil influence? How shall
he be able to purify himself from the smallest stain of concupiscence?"
Buddha replied: "Listen, O Biloo, to my words; my answer shall fully
satisfy you. By faith in and affection for the three precious things,
man escapes from the current of passions. He who applies himself with a
diligent earnestness to the study of the law of merits passes over the
sea of existences. He who strives to practise the works that procure
merits frees himself from evil influence, and from the attending
miseries. Finally, the knowledge of the four meggas or ways to
perfection procures perfect exemption from the least remnant of
concupiscence." The Biloo, delighted with what he had heard, believed in
Buddha, and soon was firmly established in the state of Thautapan. On
that spot, where so glorious and unexpected a conversion had taken
place, a monastery was erected. Buddha spent herein the sixteenth
season. As usual, myriads of Nats and men who had heard his preachings
obtained the deliverance.
From Alawee Buddha went to Radzagio, and spent the seventeenth season in
the Weloowon monastery. During that season a famous courtesan, named
Thirima, sister of the celebrated physician Dzewaka, renowned all over
the country for her wit and the incomparable charms of her person,
wished to show her liberality to the disciples of Buddha. Every day a
certain number of them went to her dwelling to receive, along with their
food, abundant alms. One of the pious mendicants, in an unguarded
moment, moved by an unholy curiosity, looked at her, and was instantly
smitten by her charms. The mortal wound was widened and deepened by a
fortuitous occurrence. On a certain day Thirima fell sick. But she did
not relax in her daily work of charity. Weak though she was, and in her
_negligee_, she insisted on the mendicants being introduced into her
room, that she might pay her respects to them. The unfortunate lover was
among the company. Her incomparable charms were heightened by her plain
dress and drooping attitude. The poor lover went back with his brethren
to the monastery. The arrow had penetrated to the core of the heart. He
refused to take any food, and during some days completely estranged
himself from the society of his brethren. While the intestine war raged
in his bosom, Thirima died. Buddha, desirous to cure the moral distemper
of the poor religious, invited King Pimpasara to be present when he
should go with his disciples to see the remains of Thirima. On the
fourth day after Thirima's death he went to her house with his
disciples. There her body was laid before them, with a livid appearance,
and all swollen. Countless worms already issuing out through the
apertures, rendered the sight loathsome, whilst a horrible stench almost
forbade a standing close to it. Buddha coolly asked the king, "What is
that object which is stretched before us?" "Thirima's body," replied the
king. "When she was alive," retorted Buddha, "people paid a thousand
pieces of silver to enjoy her for a day. Would any one take her now for
half that sum?" "No," replied the king; "in all my kingdom there is not
one man who would offer the smallest sum to have her remains; nay, no
one could be found who would be willing to carry her to any distance
unless compelled to do so." Buddha, addressing the assembly, said,
"Behold all that remains of Thirima, who was so famous for her personal
attractions! What has become of that form which deceived and enslaved so
many? All is subjected to mutability; there is nothing real in this
world." On hearing the instruction, eighty-two thousand persons obtained
the knowledge of the four truths. The Rahan who, because of his passion,
would not eat his food, was entirely cured of his moral distemper, and
firmly established in the state of Thautapan. All this happened whilst
Buddha spent his seventeenth season in the bamboo-grove monastery.
When the season was over, he went, as usual, to preach in every
direction, and returned to Thawattie, to the Dzetawon monastery. His
stay in that place was not long. He undertook another voyage to Alawee.
He was received with the greatest demonstrations of joy by the people,
who gladly ministered to all his wants. On a certain day, when he was to
receive large offerings from the people and preach to them, it happened
on that occasion that a poor pounha, who was very desirous to hear his
instructions, was informed at an early hour of that very day that one of
his cows had gone astray from the herd and could not be found. Hereupon
he felt greatly aggrieved. He was afraid to let go the golden
opportunity to hear the instruction. However, he trusted that by making
the utmost diligence he would be back in time. He ran in all haste until
he found the strayed animal and brought it back. It was nearly midday
when he returned to the town. Though pressed with the pangs of hunger
and overwhelmed with fatigue, he went straight forward to the place
where the congregation was assembled. The offerings had been brought a
long while ago; the people out of respect stood motionless, with their
hands joined, in the presence of Buddha, who, contrary to the general
expectation, remained perfectly silent. With his supernatural vision he
had seen the perfect dispositions of the poor pounha. He would have him
to share in the blessing of his instruction. As soon as the pounha had
taken his place among the hearers, Buddha, casting a benevolent glance
towards him, beckoned him to come near his person. Meantime, he ordered
some of his disciples to bring the poor man some food, because he was
very hungry; and he would not condescend to begin the instruction till
the man had been relieved from the pangs of hunger by a good meal. When
the preaching was over, several Rahans ridiculed the attention paid by
their master to a common man. Buddha, knowing their innermost thoughts,
spoke to them by way of an instructive rebuke: "Beloved sons, you seem
to be surprised at my behaviour towards that poor pounha. But I had
perceived at once the super-excellent dispositions of that man, his
craving for the holy law, and his lively and strong faith in me, which
prompted him to lay no stress on hunger, nor on fatigue, and to make no
account of his personal discomforts, in order to satisfy his earnest
longings for the law." On that occasion an immense number of hearers
were converted.
Buddha went to a monastery built on a hill, near the town of Tsalia,
where he spent the eighteenth season. In that town there was a weaver,
who had one daughter, who followed the same profession as her father.
The damsel was very desirous to hear Buddha's preachings; but on the day
when Buddha was to come into the town to deliver instructions to the
people, it happened she had to finish the weaving of a piece of cloth
that was urgently required by the owner. She then said to herself: I
will exert myself with so much diligence that I will be enabled both to
finish my work and listen to my teacher's preaching. She set instantly
to work, wound up the thread on the quill, and took it with her, to
carry it to the shed where her father's loom was. On her way to the
shed, she had to pass near the place where a motionless congregation
stood before Buddha, eagerly waiting for the words that were to fall
from his mouth. She laid aside her quill, loaded with thread, and
squatted timidly behind the last rank of the congregation. Buddha had
seen at a glance the perfect dispositions of the young girl. It was
chiefly for her benefit that he had undertaken a long journey and come
over to that place. As soon as he saw her, he made her draw nearer to
him. The injunction was joyfully complied with. With an encouraging tone
of voice, Buddha asked her whence she came and whither she was going.
The damsel modestly answered that she knew whence she came, and also
whither she was going; at the same time, she added that she was ignorant
of the place she came from, and of the place she was going to. On
hearing this apparently contradictory answer, many of the hearers could
scarcely refrain from giving vent to indignant feelings. But Buddha, who
had fathomed the girl's wisdom, prayed them to be silent. Then, turning
towards his young interlocutor, he desired her to explain the meaning of
her answer. She said: "I know that I come from my father's house, and
that I go to our loom-shed; but what existence I have come from to this
present one, this I am entirely ignorant of. I am likewise uncertain
about the existence that shall follow this one. About these two points I
am completely ignorant; my mind can discover neither the one nor the
other." Buddha extolled the wisdom of the damsel, and forthwith began
his instruction. At the conclusion, she was firmly grounded in the state
of Thautapan. She withdrew immediately, took up her quill, and went to
the shed. It happened that her father was asleep, with his hand on the
loom's handle. She approached the loom, and began to arrange the thread.
Her father, awaking suddenly, pushed inadvertently the part of the loom
his hand was laid upon, and struck his daughter in the chest. She fell
down and instantly expired. Overwhelmed with grief, the unfortunate
father poured a flood of tears over the lifeless corpse of his daughter.
Unable to console himself, he rose up and went to Buddha, in the hope of
receiving some comfort at his feet. Buddha affectionately received him,
and, by his good instructions, relieved him from the load that pressed
on his heart, and gradually enlightening his mind by the preaching of
the four great truths, he gently infused into his heart and his soul
that sweet joy which wisdom alone can impart. The weaver resolved to
abandon the world, asked for admittance into the assembly, and not long
after became a Rahanda. This conversion was followed by that of a great
many others.
Buddha returned to Radzagio, and spent the nineteenth season in the
Weloowon monastery. The season being over, Buddha went into the
districts of Magatha, preaching in all places. Previous to that time,
there lived at Radzagio a rich man who had an only daughter, who was
brought up with the greatest care and the utmost fondness. She lived in
the upper apartments of a splendid dwelling. On a certain day, at an
early hour in the morning, she was looking on the people that flocked
from the country into the town. She saw among many a young hunter
driving a cart loaded with venison. She much admired his fine, energetic
appearance. She was instantly enamoured of him, and made all the
necessary arrangements to elope with him. She succeeded, married the
hunter, and had by him a large family. Passing on one day through a
forest, the most excellent Buddha chanced to meet with a deer which was
caught in the net of a hunter. Moved with feelings of commiseration, he
helped the poor beast to get out of the meshes. After this benevolent
action, he went to rest under a tree. The hunter soon made his
appearance, and to his great dismay at once discovered that some one had
deprived him of his prey. Whilst he was looking about, he saw Buddha, in
his yellow dress, calmly resting under the shade of a large tree.
"This," said the hunter to himself, "is the man who has done the
mischief; I will make him pay dear for his undue interference." Hereupon
he hastily took up an arrow and placed it on the bow, with the intention
of shooting dead the evildoer. But despite his exertions, heightened by
the thirst for revenge, he could not succeed; both his hands were seized
with a sudden quivering, and his feet appeared as if nailed to the
ground. He stood motionless in that attitude. Absorbed in meditation,
Buddha was not aware what was going on so close to him.
The sons of the hunter as well as their wives grew very much troubled
that their father did not return at the usual hour from visiting his
nets. They feared that some untoward accident had overtaken him. They
armed themselves and went in search of him. They soon came to the spot
where they saw the sad position of their father. At the same moment,
perceiving a yellow-dressed individual, they hastily concluded, that, by
the power of some charms, he had brought their father into this
miserable condition. They made up their mind to kill him. But whilst
they were preparing to put their cruel design into execution, their
hands, suddenly benumbed, could not grasp the weapons, and they all
stood motionless and speechless. Awaking at last from contemplation,
Buddha saw the hunter and all his family standing before him. Taking
compassion on them, he restored them to their ordinary condition, and
preached to them. They all fell at his knees, craved his pardon,
believed in him, and became fervent Upasakas.
Buddha returned to Thawattie to spend the twentieth season in the
Dzetawon monastery. It was at that period that there happened a
remarkable change in the management of the domestic affairs of Gaudama.
Up to the present time, no one among the religious had been specially
appointed to attend on Buddha and administer to his wants. But some of
them, as circumstances occurred, undertook the agreeable and honourable
duty of serving him. However human nature will occasionally let appear,
even in the best of men, some marks of its innate imperfections. On two
occasions, the Rahans who followed Buddha and carried his mendicant's
pot and a portion of his dress wished to go in one direction, whilst
Buddha desired them to follow in another. They had the imprudence to
part company with him. Both paid dearly for their disobedience. They
fell into the hands of robbers, who took away all that they had, and
beat them severely on the head. This twofold act of insubordination
painfully affected Buddha. He summoned all the religious into his
presence, and declared that, being old, he wished to appoint one of them
to the permanent office of personal attendant on himself. Thariputra and
Maukalan immediately tendered their services with a pious and loving
earnestness. But Buddha declined to accept their offer, as well as that
of the eighty principal disciples. The reason was, that their services
were required for preaching to the people, and labouring with him for
the dissemination of the true science among men. Some of the disciples
urged Ananda to volunteer his services; but out of modesty he remained
silent. Then he added that, should Buddha be willing to accept his
humble services, he knew his heart's dispositions and his willingness to
attend on him on all occasions; he had but to signify his good pleasure.
As to him, he would be too happy to accept the office. Buddha expressed
his readiness to confer on him the honourable employment. He was
formally appointed and nominated Phra's attendant, and, during the
twenty-five remaining seasons, he acted as the beloved and devoted
attendant on Buddha's person. Through him alone visitors were ushered
into Buddha's presence, and orders were communicated to the members of
the assembly. Gaudama was then fifty-five years old.
On a certain day he went to the village of Dzantoo for the purpose of
collecting alms. Manh Nat, his inveterate foe, entered into the heart of
all the villagers to prevent them from giving alms to the mendicant. He
succeeded so well in his wicked design that no one noticed Gaudama's
passage through the street, nor gave him alms. When he drew near to the
gate, Manh stood by the side of the street, and asked him, with a
sarcastic tone, how he felt under the pangs of hunger. Buddha replied to
him, that he could, by entering into the state of perfect trance,
remain, like the great Brahma, without using material food, feeding
only, as it were, on the inward happiness created by the immediate sight
of unclouded truth. Five hundred young virgins, who happened to return
from the country into the place, prostrated themselves before Buddha,
listened to his instructions, and reached the state of Thautapan.
On leaving the place, Buddha happened to travel through a forest, which
had become an object of terror to all the people of Kothala, as being
the favourite haunt of Ougalimala, a notorious robber and murderer. The
ruler of the country, Pasenadi, had heard from the windows of his palace
the cries of his alarmed subjects. Despite the many remonstrances that
were made concerning the dangers of such an attempt, Buddha went
straight forward to the den of the formidable man, who, enraged at such
presumptuous boldness, was preparing to make him pay dear for his
intrusion. But he had to deal with an opponent that could not easily be
frightened. To his threats and attempts to inflict harm Gaudama opposed
the meekest composure, the mildest expressions, and an invincible
patience. Softened by the kindness of his opponent, Ougalimala altered
the tone of his voice, and showed signs of respect to Buddha. The
latter, quickly perceiving the change that had taken place in the
robber's soul, preached to him the law, and made of him a sincere
convert. Coming out from the forest which had been the scene of so many
crimes, he followed Buddha, with the behaviour of an humble disciple.
The people of Kosala could scarcely give credit to the change that had
taken place in Ougalimala. In a short time he became a Rahanda, and died
not long after he had become perfect. The members of the assembly were,
on a certain day, talking among themselves about the place he had
probably migrated to. Buddha, who had overheard their conversation on
this subject, said to them: "Beloved Bickus, the Rahan Ougalimala, who
died a little while after his conversion, has reached the deliverance.
His conversion was at once prompt and perfect. He was very wicked
previous to his conversion, because he never cohabited except with
wicked and perverse associates, the company of whom led him into all
sorts of disorders. But he no sooner had the good fortune to meet me,
hear my instructions, and converse with you, than he at once believed in
my doctrine, adhered to me with all his might, and entered into the way
leading to perfection. He laboured strenuously to destroy in himself the
law of demerits, and thus rapidly reached the summit of perfection."