When the master-mind who, by oral and personal instruction, has led
his disciples to the knowledge of new and invaluable truths passes
away—when the lips that taught them are closed forever, and the
intellect that solved the problems of human life is at rest, when the
soul that met the spiritual cravings of their souls is no more near
them—a necessity at once arises for the collection of the sayings,
the apologues, or the parables which can now be heard no more, and
which only live in the memories of those who heard them. The precious
possession must not be lost. The light must not be suffered to die
out. Either the words of the Departed One must be transmitted orally
from disciple to disciple, from generation to generation (as happens
in countries where writing is uncommon or unknown), or they must be
rendered imperishable by being once for all recorded in books.
Such was the course of events upon the death of Gautama Buddha.
Tradition tells us that immediately after that great Teacher had
entered into Nirvâna, his disciples assembled in council to collect
his λόγια, and to fix the Canons of the Faith. This Canon consisted
of three portions, and is therefore called the _Tripitaka_, or Three
Baskets. Of these baskets, his disciple Upali was appointed to
recall to memory, and edit, the one termed _Vinaya_, or the Buddha's
instructions on discipline; Ananda (the intimate friend of Gautama),
the Sûtras, or practical teachings; and Kâsyapa, the Abhidharma, or
metaphysical lectures. Into these three classes the Buddhist Canon
remains still divided. But the text, as thus established, did not
escape the necessity of further revision. One hundred and ten years
after Sakyamuni's decease, certain monks brought considerable scandal
on the Church by disregarding his precepts. To meet the difficulty,
a council was held under the Buddhist king Asoka, the orthodox faith
was determined, and a new edition of the Canonical Works compiled by
seven hundred "accomplished priests." Divisions and heresies, however,
could not be prevented. In Kanishka's reign, four hundred years after
Buddha, the Church was split up into eighteen sects, and a third
council had to issue a third Revision of the Sacred Texts.[59]
All this is not to be taken as literally true. Especially is it
impossible to accept the story that a Text of the Buddha's precepts
and lectures was formed immediately after his death. It is probable
that not even the earliest parts of the Tripitaka were committed to
writing till long after that event, and it is quite certain that its
later elements could not have been added till some centuries after it.
Nevertheless, there may be, and indeed it is almost beyond doubt that
there are, some works in this Canon which were already current as the
Word of Buddha in the time of Asoka, who reigned in the third century
before Christ. In an inscription quoted by Burnouf, and indisputably
emanating from that monarch, it is stated that the law embraces the
following topics:—"The limits marked by the Vinaya, the supernatural
faculties of the Ariyas, the dangers of the future, the stanzas of
the hermit, the Sûtra of the hermit, the speculation of Upatisa
(Sariputtra) only, the instruction of Laghula (Rahula), rejecting false
doctrines. This," adds the proclamation, "is what has been said by the
blessed Buddha" (Lotus, p. 725). In this enumeration we recognize, as
Burnouf has observed, the classes Vinaya and Sûtra, which still form
two out of the three baskets, and we find also that certain texts
were accepted by the Church as containing the genuine teaching of the
Buddha. We must suppose, therefore, that at the epoch of the Council
held under Asoka in B. C. 246, there were already many unquestioned
works in circulation. Nor is there any reason to doubt that some of
these have descended to our times. Burnouf divides the Sûtras (in the
more general sense of instructions or sermons) into two kinds: simple,
and developed Sûtras, of which the simple ones bear marks of antiquity
and of fairly representing primitive Buddhism, while the developed
Sûtras contain the fanciful speculations of a later age.
Two most fortunate discoveries, the one made by Mr. Hodgson in Nepaul,
the other by Csoma Kőrösi in Thibet, have placed the vast collection
forming the Canon of Buddhism within the reach of European scholars.
Brian Houghton Hodgson was the British Resident in Nepaul in the early
part of the present century, and he there succeeded in obtaining a
large number of volumes in Sanskrit which he presented to the Asiatic
Societies of London and Paris. To the latter he presented first
twenty-four works, and subsequently sixty-four MSS., being copies of
works he had sent to the Asiatic Society in London. These books happily
fell into the hands of one of the greatest of Sanskrit scholars,
Eugène Burnouf, who, in his "History of Indian Buddhism," translated a
sufficient number of them to serve as specimens. About the same time
a zealous Hungarian, Csoma Kőrös, undertook an adventurous journey
into the heart of Asia, with a view of discovering the original stock
of the Hungarian race. Failing in this object, he achieved another of
greater value, that of unearthing the whole of the sacred books known
in Thibet under the name of the _Kah-gyur_, or _Kan-gyur_ (properly
b_kah_-h_gyur_), which is the Thibetan translation, in one hundred
volumes, of the very works of which Hodgson in Nepaul had discovered
the Sanskrit originals. Such is the nature of our guarantees for the
authenticity of the text.
SUBDIVISION 1.—_The Vinaya-Pitaka._
Let us proceed to consider in detail the division which stands first in
the Buddhist classification, the Vinaya-Pitaka, or basketful of works
on Discipline. These, according to Burnouf, are of very different ages,
some being, from the details they furnish with reference to Sakyamuni,
his institutions and his surroundings, of very ancient date, and
others, which relate events that did not occur till two hundred years
or more after his death, belonging to a more recent period. One of the
most instructive of the legends which form the staple of the works
on Discipline, is that of Pûrna. Only a brief extract of it can be
attempted here.
Bhagavat (that is, the Lord, or Buddha) was at Srâvasti, in the garden
of Anâtha-pindika. (Anâtha-pindika was a householder who had embraced
the religion of the Buddha, and in whose garden he was accustomed
to preach.) There resided at this time in the town of Surparaka a
very wealthy householder, named Bhava. This Bhava had three sons
by his legitimate wife, who were christened respectively Bhavila,
Bhavatrata, and Bhavanandin. After some years he fell into an illness
which led to his using language of extraordinary violence. His wife
with her three sons deserted him in consequence, but a young female
slave, reflecting that he had immense wealth, and that it would not
be suitable for her to desert him, remained in the house and nursed
him throughout his malady. Seeing that he owed her his life, Bhava
on his recovery told her that he would give her a reward. The young
woman begged that if satisfied she might be admitted to her master's
bed. Bhava endeavored to get off, promising a handsome sum of money
and her liberty instead, but the girl was determined, and obtained her
wish. The result was that "after eight or nine months" she gave birth
to a beautiful boy, to whom the name of Pûrna (the Accomplished) was
given. The infant Pûrna was confided to eight nurses, and subsequently
received a first-rate education. In due time, the three elder sons were
married by their father's desire, but the father, seeing them absorbed
in mere uxoriousness, reproved their indolence, telling them that he
had not been married until he had amassed a lac (100,000) of Suvarna
(representing about twenty-eight shillings). Struck by this reproof,
the three sons went to sea on a mercantile expedition, and returned
after having each made a lac of Suvarnas. But Pûrna, who had remained
at home to manage the shop, was found to have gained an equal sum in
the same time. Bhava, perceiving Pûrna's talents, impressed on his sons
the importance of union, and the duty of disregarding what was said by
their wives, women being the destroyers of family peace. He illustrated
his remarks by a striking expedient. Having desired his sons to bring
some wood, and to kindle it, he then ordered them all to withdraw the
brands. This being done, the fire went out, and the moral was at once
understood by the four young men. United the fuel burns; and thus the
union of brothers makes their strength. Bhavila in particular was
warned by his father never to abandon Pûrna. In course of time Bhava
died, and the three legitimate sons undertook another voyage. During
their absence, the wives of the two younger sons fancied themselves
ill-treated by Pûrna, who, in the midst of his business in the shop,
did not supply their maids fast enough with all they sent for. On the
return of their husbands these two complained to them that were treated
as happens to those in whose family the son of a slave exercises the
command. The two brothers merely reflected that women sowed divisions
in families. Unhappily, however, some trifling incidents, in which
Bhavila's child appeared to have been treated by Pûrna with undue
partiality, gave the sister-in-law a more plausible pretext for their
complaints. Such was the effect of their jealousy, that the younger
brothers determined to demand a division of the property, in which
Pûrna (as a slave) was to form one of the lots. Bhavila, as eldest
brother, had first choice, and remembering his father's advice,
chose Pûrna. One of the other brothers took the house and land, and
ejected Bhavila's wife; the other took the shop and the property
in foreign parts, and ejected Pûrna. Bhavila, his wife, and Pûrna,
retired penniless to the house of a relative. The wife in distress
sent out Pûrna with nothing but a brass coin, which had been attached
to her dress, to buy provisions. Pûrna met a man who had picked up
some stranded sandal-wood on the sea-shore, and buying it of him (on
credit) for five hundred Kârshâpanas, sold a portion of it again for
one thousand. With this sum he first paid the man who had sold the
wood, and then obtained provisions for the household. He had still in
his possession some pieces of the sandal-wood, which was of a very
valuable species called Gosirsha. Shortly after this, the king fell
ill, and his doctors having prescribed an unguent of this very wood,
it was found that no one but Pûrna had any in his possession. Pûrna
sold a piece of it to the Government at one thousand Kârshâpanas, and
the king recovered. Hereupon he reflected that he was but a poor sort
of king who had no Gosirsha sandal-wood in his establishment, and sent
for Pûrna. Pûrna, guessing his object, approached him with one piece in
his hand, and three in his robe. The king, after ascertaining that the
price of the one piece would be a lac of Suvarnas, inquired if there
was more. Pûrna then showed him the three other pieces, and the king
would have given him four lacs of Suvarnas. The wily merchant, however,
offered to present him with one piece, and when the grateful monarch
offered him a boon, requested that he might henceforth be protected
against all insults, which was at once accorded.
About this time five hundred merchants arrived at Surparaka with a
cargo of goods. The Merchants' Company passed a resolution that none
of them should act independently of the rest in buying any of these
goods; in short, that there should be no competition. Any one dealing
with the merchants alone was to pay a fine. Pûrna, however, at once
went to the vessel and bought the whole cargo at the price demanded,
eighteen lacs of Suvarnas, paying the three lacs he had received as
security. The Merchants' Company, finding themselves anticipated,
seized Pûrna and exposed him to the sun to force him to pay the fine.
No sooner was the king informed of this than he sent for the Merchants'
Company to learn the cause of their proceedings. They told him; but
being obliged to confess that they had never informed Pûrna or his
brother of the resolution passed, they had to release him with shame.
Fortune still favored him. Soon after this, the king happened to
require the very articles which Pûrna had purchased, and desired the
Merchants' Company to purchase them. Pûrna hereupon sold them at double
the price he had paid. His next step was to undertake a sea-voyage
for commercial purposes, and the first having been successful, it was
followed by five others, all equally so. His seventh was undertaken at
the instance of some Buddhist merchants from Srâvasti, where Gautama
was teaching. During the voyage he was profoundly impressed with
their religious demeanor. "These merchants, at night and at dawn,
read aloud the hymns, the prayers which lead to the other shore, the
texts which disclose the truth, the verses of the Sthaviras, those
relating to the several sciences, and those of the hermits, as well
as the Sûtras containing sections about temporal interests. Pûrna,
who heard them, said to them, 'Gentlemen, what is that fine poetry
which you sing?' 'It is not poetry, O prince of merchants; it is the
very words of the Buddha.' Pûrna, who had never till now heard this
name of Buddha mentioned, and who felt his hair stand up all over his
body, inquired with deep respect, 'Gentlemen, who is he whom you call
Buddha?' The merchants replied, 'The Sramana Gautama, descended from
the Sakya family, who having shaven his hair and beard, having put
on garments of yellow hue, left his house with perfect faith to enter
upon a religious life, and who has reached the supreme condition of an
all-perfect Buddha; it is he, O prince of merchants, who is called the
Buddha.' 'In what place, gentlemen, does he now reside?' 'At Srâvasti,
O prince of merchants, in the wood of Jetavana, in the garden of
Anâtha-pindika.'" The result of this conversation was that Pûrna, on
his return, announced to his brother his intention of becoming a monk,
and advised him never to go to sea, and never to live with his two
brothers. After this he went straight to Anâtha-pindika, and was by
him presented to the Buddha, who received him with the remark that the
most agreeable present he could have was a man to convert. Pûrna then
received the investiture and tonsure by miracle, and was instructed in
the law (in an abridged version) by his master. A beautiful, and very
characteristic conversation follows the reception of the new doctrine.
The Buddha inquired of Pûrna where he would now reside, and the latter
(who intended to lead an ascetic life) replied that he would reside "in
the land of the Sronaparantakas.[60] 'O Pûrna,' says Gautama, 'they are
violent, these men of Sronaparanta: they are passionate, cruel, angry,
furious, and insolent. When the men of Sronaparanta, O Pûrna, shall
address thee to thy face in wicked, coarse, and insulting language,
when they shall become enraged against thee and rail at thee, what
wilt thou think of that?' 'If the men of Sronaparanta, O Lord, address
me to my face in wicked, coarse, and insulting language, if they
become enraged against me and rail at me, this is what I shall think
of that: They are certainly good men, these Sronaparantakas, they are
gentle, mild men, they who address me to my face, in wicked, coarse and
insulting language, they who become enraged against me and rail at me,
but who neither strike me with the hand nor stone me.'" The rest must
be given in an abridged form. "But if they do strike thee with the hand
or stone thee?" "I shall think them good and gentle for not striking
me with swords or sticks." "And if they do that?" "I shall think them
good and gentle for not depriving me entirely of life." "And if they
do that?" (What follows is literal.) "If the men of Sronaparanta, O
Lord, deprive me entirely of life, this is what I shall think: There
are hearers of Bhagavat [the Lord] who by reason of this body full
of ordure, are tormented, covered with confusion, despised, struck
with swords, who take poison, who die of hanging, who are thrown down
precipices. They are certainty good people, these Sronaparantakas,
they are gentle people, they who deliver me with so little pain from
this body full of ordure." "Good, good, Pûrna; thou canst, with the
perfection of patience with which thou art endowed, yes, thou canst
live, thou canst take up thy abode in the land of the Sronaparantakas.
Go, Pûrna; delivered thyself, deliver; arrived thyself at the other
shore, cause others to arrive there; consoled thyself, console; having
come thyself to complete Nirvâna, cause others to arrive there."
Hereupon Pûrna took his way to Sronaparanta, where he converted a
huntsman who had intended to kill him, and obtained five hundred
novices composed of both sexes.
After a time, Bhavila, his brother, was requested by Bhavatrata and
Bhavanandin to enter into partnership with them; and his repugnance to
the proposal was overcome by the reproaches of his younger brothers,
who said that he would never have dared to go to sea as Pûrna had done.
Stung by this taunt, he engaged with them in a sea-voyage. The vessel
was attacked by a furious storm, raised by a demon in consequence of
the merchants having cut some sandal-wood which was under this demon's
protection. Bhavila stood dumbfounded; and when the passengers inquired
the reason, informed them that he was thinking of his brother's advice
never to go to sea. It turned out that the merchants on board knew of
Pûrna's great sanctity, and they addressed their prayers to him. He
came through the air, after the manner of Buddhist ascetics, appeared
sitting cross-legged over the vessel, and allayed the tempest. The
vessel, loaded with sandal-wood, was brought safety back to Surparaka.
The sandal-wood Pûrna took possession of in order to make a palace for
the Buddha, and desired his brothers to invite that personage and his
disciples to a repast. The invitation was miraculously conveyed to the
Buddha (who was a long way off, at Srâvasti), and he told his followers
to prepare to accept it. Pûrna returned suddenly to the Assembly
(around Buddha) and performed a miracle. The king of Surparaka, on his
side, made preparations on the grandest scale for the reception of the
Buddhist hierarchy, which came to his city by all kinds of supernatural
means. Pûrna, standing by him, explained the various prodigies as they
occurred. Omitting some marvelous conversions wrought by the Buddha
on his way, it may be mentioned that he descended into the middle of
the town of Surparaka from the air, and there taught the law, by which
hundreds of thousands of living beings attained the several degrees of
knowledge which lead, sooner or later, to salvation.
Passing over a passage in which two royal Nâgas (or serpent-kings)
make their appearance to receive the law, and another in which Gautama
proceeds to another universe to instruct the mother of his disciple
Maudgalyâyana, we arrive at the moral which always forms the conclusion
of these Buddhist tales. The monks surrounding the Buddha inquired
what actions Pûrna had performed in order, first, to be born in a
rich family; secondly, to be the son of a slave; and lastly, "when
he had entered on a religious life, to behold the condition of an
Arhat[61] face to face, after having annihilated all the corruptions
of evil?" Buddha replied, that in the very age in which we live, but
at a period of it when men lived twenty thousand years, there was
a venerable Tathâgata, or Buddha, named Kâsyapa, who resided near
Benares. Pûrna, who had adopted a religious life under him, "fulfilled
among the members of the Church[62] the duties of servant of the law."
The servant of a certain Arhat set himself to sweep the monastery, but
the wind blowing the dirt from side to side, he gave up the attempt,
intending to proceed when the wind should have abated. The servant of
the law coming in, and finding the monastery unswept, allowed himself
to be carried away by rage, and to utter these offensive words: "This
is the servant of some slave's son." When he had had time to recover
his calmness, the Arhat's servant presented himself, and asked if he
knew him. The servant of the law replied that he did, and that they
both had entered into a religious life under the Buddha Kâsyapa. The
other rejoined that while he had fulfilled all his duties, the servant
of the law had been guilty of a fault in giving way to his temper, and
exhorted him to diminish that fault by confession. The latter repented,
and was thereby saved from re-birth in hell; but he was doomed to be
re-born for five hundred generations in the womb of a slave. In this
last existence he was still the offspring of a slave; but because he
had formerly served the members of the Church, he was born in a rich
and prosperous family; and because he had formerly read and studied
Buddhist theology, he now became an Arhat under Gautama Buddha, after
annihilating evil (H. B. I., p. 235 ff.).
Such is a favorable specimen of a vast number of legends contained in
the Buddhist Canon. The following fragment is of a rather different
kind. It illustrates the extravagant adoration paid to the person of
Buddha some generations after his death. A king named Rudrayana had
sent to another, named Bimbisâra, an armor of marvelous properties and
priceless value. Bimbisâra, at a loss what present he could send back
which would be a fitting return for such a gift, determined to seek out
Buddha and consult him on the point:—
"King Bimbisâra addressed him thus:—'In the town of Rôruka, Lord,
there lives a king called Rudrayana; he is my friend; though I have
never seen him, he has sent me a present of an armor composed of
five pieces. What present shall I give him in return?' 'Have the
representation of the Tathâgata traced on a bit of stuff,' answered
Bhagavat, 'and send it him as a present.'
"Bimbisâra sent for some painters, and said—'Paint on a bit of stuff
the image of the Tathâgata.' The blessed Buddhas are not very easy to
get at, which is the reason why the painters could find no opportunity
of [painting] Bhagavat. So they said to Bimbisâra—'If the king would
give a feast to Bhagavat in the interior of his palace, it would be
possible for us to seize the occasion of [painting] the blessed one'
King Bimbisâra having accordingly invited Bhagavat to his palace, gave
him a feast. The blessed Buddhas are beings that people are never
weary of looking at. Whichever limb of Bhagavat the painters looked
at they could not leave off contemplating it. So they could not seize
the moment to paint him. Bhagavat then said to the king—'The painters
will have trouble, O great king; it is impossible for them to seize
the moment to [paint the] Tathâgata, but bring the canvass.' The king
having brought it, Bhagavat projected his shadow on it, and said to
the painters—'Fill that outline with colors; and then write over it
the formulas of refuge as well as the precepts of instruction; you
will have to trace both in the direct order, and in the inverse order
the production of the [successive] causes [of existence], which is
composed of twelve terms; and on it will be written these two verses:
"'Begin, go out [of the house]; apply yourself to the law of Buddha;
annihilate the army of death, as an elephant upsets a hut of reeds.
"'He who shall walk without distraction under the discipline of this
law, escaping birth and the revolution of the world, will put an end
to sorrow.[63]
"'If any one asks what these verses are, you must answer: The first
is the introduction; the second, the instruction; the third, the
revolution of the world; and the fourth, the effort.'" (H. B. I., p.
341).
Bimbisâra, acting under Bhagavat's dictation, then wrote to Rudrayana
that he was about to send him the most precious object in the three
worlds, and that he must adorn the way by which it would arrive for two
and a half yojanas. Rudrayana was rather irritated by this message, and
proposed immediate war, but was dissuaded by his ministers. The picture
therefore was received with all honor, and not uncovered till after it
had been duly adored. Certain foreign merchants who happened to be on
the spot, on seeing the portrait, cried out altogether: "Adoration to
Buddha." At this name the king felt his hair stand on end, and inquired
who Buddha was. His position, and the meaning of the inscription,
was explained to him by the merchants. The consequence, as may be
supposed, was his conversion to Buddhism. He reflected on the causes of
existence, and attained the degree of Srotâpatti (H. B. I., p. 344.)
Very little allusion is made in these legends to the immediate subject
of the Vinaya-pitaka, namely, Discipline. But a reference to Csoma's
Analysis of the Dulva (the Thibetan title for the Vinaya) will show
that it is in fact largely occupied in laying down rules for the
guidance of monks and nuns, these rules being frequently supposed to
have arisen out of particular events, while "moral tales" are freely
intermingled with the treatment of the main business. The hap-hazard
manner in which the regulations needful for the government of the
Church were framed—according to the theory of the Scriptures—may be
illustrated by a few specimens. Thus, two persons in debt had taken
orders, "Shakya (Sakyamuni) prohibits the admission into the religious
order of any one who is in debt" (As. Re., vol. xx. p. 53). This rule
entirely agrees with the general spirit of Gautama's proceedings, as
narrated in the Buddhist books, and we are warranted in supposing
that statements so harmonious rest on a historical foundation. Thus,
he is said to have refused to admit young people without the consent
of their parents, or servants of a king without their royal master's
sanction. Regulations like these may well have been made by Buddha
from a cautious anxiety to avoid all conflict with established
authorities. Further on in the same volume of the Dulva the reception
of hermaphrodites is likewise prohibited (As. Re., vol. xx. p. 55).
On another occasion, leave is given to learn swimming. "Indecencies"
are then "committed in the Ajirapati river. They are prohibited from
touching any woman;—they may not save even one that has fallen into
the river" (Ibid., vol. xx. p. 59). Elsewhere we are told of a pious
lady who provided the infant community with cloth to make bathing
clothes, since she had heard that both monks and nuns bathed without
any garments (Ibid., vol. xx. p. 70). A little further on, the dress
of the priesthood is prescribed. Some of the disciples wished to
wear one thing, and some another; others to go naked. "Shakya tells
them the impropriety and indecency of the latter, and prohibits it
absolutely: and rebuking them, adds that such a garb, or to go naked,
is the characteristic sign of a _Mu-stegs-chan_ (Sansk) _Tîrthika_"
(Ibid., vol. xx. p. 71). Here again we seem to have a historical
trait, for it was one of the distinctive features of Buddhism that its
votaries were never naked, like the Tîrthikas, or heretical ascetics,
but always wore the yellow robe. In other places there are rules on
lodging, on bedding, on the treatment of quarrelsome priests, the use
of fragrant substances, and many other trivial points of ecclesiastical
discipline. The volumes containing all these instructions are followed
by one in which the same stories are told, and the same morals deduced
from them, concerning the nuns. Then there are some injunctions
apparently peculiar to this sex, as, for instance, the restraint
imposed on their possession of a multiplicity of garments. Another
prohibition was called forth by the following conduct of a nun. A king
had sent a piece of fine linen cloth as a present to a brother king.
"It comes afterwards into the hands of _G_tsug-_D_gah-Mo (a lewd or
wicked priestess); she puts it on, appears in public, but from its
thin texture, seems to be naked. The priestesses are prohibited from
accepting or wearing such thin clothes" (As. Re., vol. xx. p. 85).
It will be observed from these few quotations that according to the
Canon the Buddha's usual mode of proceeding was to lay down rules as
occasion required. Some instructive anecdote is related, and the new
order follows as a natural consequence of the event. More probably the
rules were in fact made first, and the anecdotes subsequently composed
to account for them. However this may be, there exist in the Canon
some undoubtedly ancient ordinances not called forth by any special
circumstances, conformity to which was required of the monks, if not
by their founder himself, at least by the rulers of his Church in its
most primitive condition. Such, for example, are "the thirteen rules by
which sin is shaken," reported by Burnouf, which are also found, with
the exception of a single one, in a Chinese work entitled "the sacred
book of the twelve observances" (H. B. I., p. 304). These rules belong,
according to Burnouf, to an epoch when the organization of the monks
under a powerful hierarchy, and their residence in settled monasteries,
had scarcely begun. Some of them are even inconsistent with the
institution of such monasteries, or Viharis, which are nevertheless
very ancient. The fact that the above-named Chinese treatise, the
pentaglot Buddhist Vocabulary,[64] and a list current among the
Singhalese, all contain these articles of discipline (though with
slight variations) proves, moreover, that they appertain to that common
fund on which Northern and Southern Buddhists drew alike. The first
article (following the order in the Vocabulary) signifies "wearing rags
found in the dust," and refers to an injunction addressed to the monks
to wear vestments composed of rags picked up in heaps of ordure, in
cemeteries, and such places. The second, "he who has three garments,"
corresponds to an order found in the Chinese book forbidding monks to
have more than three garments. Of the third article which is corrupt,
Burnouf can give no satisfactory explanation; and the fourth means "he
who lives by alms," a practice at all times imposed on the monastic
orders. Fifthly, the ascetic is described as "he who has but one seat;"
sixthly, as "one who eats no sweetmeats after his meal," all eating
for the day having to be finished by noon. Seventhly, he "lives in the
forest," that is, in lonely places; and eighthly, he is "near a tree,"
the Chinese injunction requiring him to sit near a tree, and to seek no
shelter. The ninth order obliges them to sit on the ground, that is,
to live in the open air; the tenth, to dwell among tombs, which the
Singhalese interpret as an order to visit cemeteries and meditate on
the instability of human affairs; the eleventh, to sit, and not to lie
down. Of the meaning of the twelfth there is some doubt; it may signify
that the monk is to remain where he is, or that he is not to change the
position of his mat when once laid down. To these twelve the Singhalese
add a thirteenth article, that the monk is to live by begging from
house to house.
Not less remarkable are the ten commandments of Buddhism, which are
doubtless also of considerable antiquity. Burnouf states that he has
found them in the sequel of the Prâtimoksha Sûtra in the Pali-Burman
copy of that most important work (to which reference will shortly be
made). These are the ten commandments as given in that authority:—
1. Not to kill any living creature.
2. Not to steal.
3. Not to break the vow of chastity.
4. Not to lie.
5. Not to drink intoxicating liquors.
6. Not to take a meal except at the appointed time.
7. Not to visit dances, performances of vocal or instrumental music,
or dramatic representations.
8. Not to wear garlands, or use perfumes and unguents.
9. Not to sleep on a high or large bed.
10. Not to accept gold or silver (Lotus, p. 444).
Of these commandments, some are evidently general, being founded on
the fundamental principles of ethics; others are addressed only to
those in orders. Such is the case with the last five, all of which bear
reference to certain disciplinary laws imposed upon the monks and nuns.
Their object is to prohibit luxury of various kinds, such as the use of
a large bed, and to restrain the love of sensual enjoyments, such as
plays, music, and dancing. Another list of offenses, after enumerating
the first five of those contained in the preceding list, adds five
more, namely:—
1. Blasphemy of the Buddha.
2. Blasphemy of the Law.
3. Blasphemy of the Church.
4. Heresy.
5. Violation of a nun (Lotus, p. 445).
Such are the leading points of monastic discipline among the primitive
Buddhists. A more elaborate and formal treatise on the subject of
the sins to be avoided, and the penalties to be imposed on their
commission, is the Prâtimoksha Sûtra, or Sûtra on Emancipation. It is
the standard work on this subject, and should be recited before the
assembled Vihâra twice in each month, any guilty brother confessing
any transgression of its precepts of which he might be conscious. Its
antiquity is undoubted, for in a Sûtra known to have been brought to
China from India in A.D. 70 (and therefore already of established
repute) the Prâtimoksha is referred to as the "two hundred and fifty
rules" (C. B. S., p. 189). It does, in fact, contain two hundred and
fifty rules in its Chinese form, while the Thibetan version contains
two hundred and fifty-three, and the Pali version but two hundred and
twenty-seven (H. B. I., p. 303). While the Prâtimoksha Sûtra now to
be quoted is destined for monks, or Bhikshus, it is to be noted that
there exists likewise a "Bhikshunî Prâtimoksha Sûtra," or Treatise on
Emancipation for Nuns (As. Re., vol. xx. pp. 79, 84). The rules are,
_mutatis mutandis_, the same for both sexes.
It will be interesting to glance rapidly at the nature of the faults
and crimes the confession of which is here imposed on Bhikshus and
Bhikshunîs.[65]
The Sûtra opens with certain stanzas designed to celebrate the Buddhist
Trinity,—the Buddha, the Law, and the Church. Then follow some
"preparatory questions:"—
"Are the priests assembled? (They are.) Are all things arranged?
(seats, water, sweeping, &c.) (They are.) Let all depart who are
not ordained. (If any, let them go; if none are present, let one
say so.) Does any Bhikshu here present ask for absolution? (Let him
answer accordingly.) Exhortation must be given to the priestesses
(but if there are none present, let one say so). Are we agreed what
our present business is? It is to repeat the precepts in this lawful
assembly.
"Venerable brethren, attend now! On this ... day of the month ... let
the assembled priests listen attentively and patiently, whilst the
precepts are distinctly recited."
COMMENCEMENT.
"Brethren! I desire to go through the Prâtimoksha. Bhikshus! assembled
thus, let all consider and devoutly reflect on these precepts. If any
have transgressed, let him repent! If none have transgressed, then
stand silent! silent! Thus, brethren, it shall be known that ye are
guiltless.
"Now if a stranger ask one of us a question we are bound to reply
truthfully: so, also, Bhikshus, we who reside in community, if we know
that we have done wrong, and yet decline to acknowledge it, we are
guilty of prevarication. But Buddha has declared that prevarication
effectually prevents our religious advancement. That brother,
therefore, who is conscious of transgression, and desires absolution,
ought at once to declare his fault, and after proper penance he shall
have rest and peace.
"Brethren! having repeated this preface, I demand of you all—Is this
assembly pure or not? (Repeat this three times.) Brethren! this
assembly is pure; silent! silent! ye stand! So let it be! Brethren, I
now proceed to recite the four parajika laws, ordered to be recited
twice every month."
These four laws are then repeated, and the penalty of excommunication,
which attaches to a breach of any of them, is enunciated. The first of
the four prohibits impure conduct; the second, theft. The third runs as
follows:—
"If a Bhikshu cause a man's death, or hold a weapon and give it a man
(for the purpose), or if he speak of the advantages of death, or if he
carelessly exhort one to meet death (saying), 'Tush, you are a brave
man,' or use such wicked speech as this, 'It is far better to die
and not to live,' using such considerations as these, bringing every
sort of expedient into use, praising death, exhorting to death: this
Bhikshu ought to be excluded and cut off."
The fourth rule is against pretending to a perfect knowledge of the
Truth which the Bhikshu does not in fact possess.
At the end of the recitation of these four rules it is declared that
a brother who has transgressed any one of them "has acquired the
guilt which demands exclusion, and ought not to live as a member of
the priesthood." The question as to the purity of the Assembly is
then again put, and the priest (after declaring it pure) proceeds to
thirteen rules, the breach of which is punished by suspension. The
first restrains a monk from pampering lustful thoughts, the second
from bringing any part of his body in contact with that of a woman,
the third from lewd talk with a woman, the fourth from obtaining a
woman to minister to him. For a violation of this last injunction the
highest penance, as well as suspension, is appointed. There follow
rules against building a residence of illegal size, or without due
consecration, or on an inconvenient site; against building a Vihâra
on an inconvenient site; against slander of a Bhikshu (two rules),
against causing disunion in a community, against forming a cabal for
mutual protection against just censure, against disorderly conduct
when living in a house, against a refusal to listen to expostulation
or reproof. Solitary confinement, and six days of penance, are the
penalties imposed on these offenses; after the infliction of the
sentence absolution is to be given. Next we have two rules "not
capable of exact definition," but relating to licentious talk with "a
faithful laywoman." Thirty rules relating to priests' robes and the
like matters are now recited. They seem to be aimed at covetousness in
receiving or asking gifts. After the usual inquiry as to the purity of
the brethren, ninety rules against offenses requiring "confession and
absolution" are to be read. Some of these seem to be repetitions of
previous ones belonging to a more serious category, as the first two,
on lying and slander, and the eighth, against pretended knowledge. Then
the Prâtimoksha proceeds to say that if a Bhikshu use hypocritical
language, if he occupy the same lodging as a woman, or the same as a
man not yet ordained above two nights, if he chant prayers with a man
not yet ordained, if he rail at a priest, if he use water containing
insects (so as to destroy life), if he give clothes to a Bhikshunî,
or nun, if he go with a Bhikshunî in any boat except a ferry-boat,
if he agree to walk with a Bhikshunî along the road, if he gambol in
the water while bathing, if he drink distilled or fermented liquor,
or commit any of the many other faults, partly against morality
in general, partly against conventual rule, he is guilty of a
transgression of this class. Four rules follow against receiving food
from a nun, against allowing a nun in a layman's house to point out
certain dishes, and have them given to certain monks; against going to
dinner uninvited; against the omission on the part of a monk residing
in a dangerous place to warn those who may bring him victuals of the
risk they run. A hundred rules, mostly trifling, are now entered on.
They are such as these: "Not to enter a layman's house in a bouncing
manner." "Not to munch or make a munching noise in eating rice," and
likewise, "not to make a lapping noise." "Not to clean the teeth under
a pagoda;" with many other minute regulations on a multitude of trivial
points. The seven concluding laws refer simply to the mode of deciding
cases.
SUBDIVISION 2.—_The Sûtra-Pitaka._
We have thus concluded our notice of the Prâtimoksha Sûtra, and may
pass on to the Sûtra-pitaka, the second of the three baskets into
which the Canon is divided. Sûtra is a term signifying a discourse,
or lecture, and the Sûtras of Buddhism are frequently moral stories,
supposed to emanate from Gautama Buddha himself, and embodying the
great features of his gospel, as the Sermon on the Mount and the
Parables do those of the gospel of Jesus. A very interesting collection
of such stories belonging to the Sûtra-pitaka is contained in a work
translated from the Thibetan by a Russian scholar, and forming, under
the title of the _H_dsangs-_b_lun, or the Wise Man and the Fool, a
portion of the twenty-eighth volume of the _M_do, or Sûtra-pitaka. From
Csoma's Analysis it appears that many other narratives of a similar
nature are embodied in this section of the Canon, though much of it
also consists of more direct dogmatic instruction. From "The Wise Man
and the Fool" I select a chapter which affords a good illustration of
the boundless charity which Buddhism inculcates.
The victoriously-perfect One was living at Srâvasti. When the time
came to receive alms, he set out with his disciple Ananda, alms-bowl
in hand, along the road. It so happened that he met two men who had
been condemned to death for repeated robberies, and were being led to
execution. Their mother, seeing the Buddha, thus addressed him:—"O
chief of gods, think of us with mercy, and vouchsafe to take under
thy protection these my sons who are going to execution." Buddha
accordingly interceded with the king, who gave them a free pardon.
Touched with gratitude, the two men asked leave to become monks, and
on Buddha's consenting to receive them, their hair at once fell off
from head and face, and their garments assumed the yellow hue of the
order.[66] Both mother and sons attained high spiritual grades. Ananda
marveled what good deeds these three could have performed to meet with
the victoriously-perfect One, to be saved from such great evils, and
to obtain the prospect of Nirvâna. Buddha thereupon informed him that
this was not the first occasion on which he had saved their lives, and
on Ananda's request for a further explanation, related the following
circumstances. Countless years ago, there lived in Jambudwîpa (India) a
certain king who had three sons. The youngest son was mild and merciful
from his childhood upwards. One day, when the king, with his ministers,
wives and sons, was at a picnic outside the town, the three sons went
into a wood, where they found a tigress, with young recently littered,
so nearly starved that she was almost on the point of devouring her
own brood. The youngest asked his brothers what food a tigress would
eat. "Newly-killed meat and warm blood." "Is there any one who would
support its life with his own body?" "No one," replied the elder
brothers; "that would be too difficult" (I give only the substance
of this colloquy). Then the youngest prince thought within himself:
"For a long time I have been driven about in the circle of births, and
have thrown away my body and my life innumerable times; often have I
sacrificed it for the passion of the desires, often for that of rage,
often too for folly and ignorance; what value then has this body,
which has not one single time trodden the field of meritorious actions
for the sake of religion!" Meantime, all three had walked on; but the
youngest, pleading some business of his own, desired them to go on,
leaving him to follow. Having returned to the cave of the tigress, he
laid himself down beside her, but found her too weak to open her mouth.
Hereupon the prince contrived to bleed himself with a sharp splinter
of wood, and the tigress, after licking the blood that flowed from
him, was sufficiently refreshed to consume him altogether. The two
elder brothers, wondering at his long absence, returned to the tiger's
hole, where, on finding his remains, they rolled upon the ground and
fainted, overcome with grief. The queen, who had had an alarming dream,
questioned them anxiously on their return as to their brother, and she
too on learning the sad event, which their choking voices for some
time prevented them from telling, fell senseless to the ground. Soon
after, both king and queen visited the den, but could find nothing but
bones. Meantime, the prince had been born again in the Tushita heaven.
Looking about to discover what good action of his had brought him to
this place, he saw the bones of his former body in the tigress's den,
and his parents sighing and groaning around them. He returned from his
heavenly abode to give them some consolation and some good advice. They
were at length somewhat comforted, and collecting his bones, buried
them in a costly sarcophagus.
Buddha then turns to Ananda and asks him whom he supposes the actors in
this tragedy to have been. He tells him, without waiting for an answer,
that the king was his present father, the queen his present mother, the
elder princes certain personages named Maitreya and Vasumitra, and the
youngest prince no other than himself. The young tigers were, it need
hardly be said, the condemned felons whom he had now again delivered
from death.
While this anecdote inculcates charity in its fullest extent, the one
which is now to be quoted illustrates another most conspicuous point in
the ethics of Buddhism,—the regard paid by it to personal purity and
the deadening influence it exercised on the senses. The translation of
this curious legend is due to Burnouf:—
"There was at Mathurâ a courtesan called Vâsavadattâ. Her maid went
one day to Upagupta to buy her some perfumes. Vâsavadattâ said to her
on her return: 'It seems, my dear, that this perfumer pleases you,
as you always buy from him.' The maid answered her: 'Daughter of my
master, Upagupta, the son of the merchant, who is gifted with beauty,
with talent, and with gentleness, passes his life in the observance of
the law.' On hearing these words Vâsavadattâ conceived an affection
for Upagupta, and at last she sent her maid to say to him: 'My
intention is to go and find you; I wish to enjoy myself with you.' The
maid delivered her message to Upagupta; but the young man told her to
answer her mistress: 'My sister, it is not yet time for you to see
me.' Now it was necessary in order to obtain the favors of Vâsavadattâ
to give five hundred Purânas. Thus the courtezan imagined that [if
he refused her, it was because] he could not give the five hundred
Purânas. For this reason, she sent her maid to him again to say, 'I do
not ask a single Kârchâpana from the son of my master; I only wish to
enjoy myself with him.' The maid again delivered this new message, and
Upagupta answered her in the same way: 'My sister, it is not time yet
for you to see me.'
"However, the son of a master-workman had come to settle with
Vâsavadattâ, when a merchant, who was bringing from the north five
hundred horses which he wished to sell, came to the town of Mathurâ,
and asked who was the most beautiful courtezan. He was answered that
Vâsavadattâ was. Immediately, taking 500 Purânas and a great number
of presents, he went to the courtezan. Then Vâsavadattâ, urged by
covetousness, assassinated the son of the master-workman, who was at
her house, threw his body into the middle of the filth of the town,
and gave herself up to the merchant. After some days, the young man
was extricated from the filth by his parents, who denounced the
murder. The king at once gave orders to the executioners to go and cut
off Vâsavadattâ's hands, feet, ears, and nose, and to leave her in the
cemetery. The executioners carried out the orders of the king, and
left the courtezan in the place named.
"Now Upagupta heard of the punishment that had been inflicted on
Vâsavadattâ, and at once this idea came into his mind: 'Some time
ago, this woman wished to see me for a sensual object, and I did not
consent that she should see me. But now that her hands and feet, ears
and nose, have been cut off, it is time she should see me,' and he
pronounced these verses:
"'When her body was covered with beautiful attire, when she shone with
ornaments of different sorts, the best thing for those who aspired to
deliverance and who wished to escape the law of renewed birth was not
to go and see this woman.
"'To-day, when she has lost her pride, her love and her joy, when she
has been mutilated by the edge of the knife, when her body is reduced
to its true nature, it is time to see her.'
"Then sheltered by a parasol carried by a young man who accompanied
him as a servant, he went to the cemetery with a measured step.
Vâsavadattâ's maid had stayed with her mistress out of gratitude for
her past kindness, and she prevented the crows from approaching her
body. [Seeing Upagupta] she said to her: 'Daughter of my master, he
to whom you sent me several times, Upagupta, is coming this way. No
doubt he comes attracted by the desire for pleasure.' But Vâsavadattâ,
hearing these words, answered:
"'When he sees me deprived of beauty, racked with grief, lying on the
ground all covered with blood, how can he feel love of pleasure?'
"Then she said to her maid, 'Friend, pick up the limbs that have been
severed from my body.' The maid picked them up at once, and hid them
under a bit of linen. At this moment Upagupta arrived, and he stood
up before Vâsavadattâ. The courtezan, seeing him standing up before
her, said to him: 'Son of my master, when my body was whole, when it
was made for enjoyment, I several times sent my maid to you, and you
answered me: "My sister, it is not time for you to see me." To-day,
when the knife has carried off my hands and feet, my ears and nose,
when I am thrown in the dirt and in blood, why do you come?' And she
uttered the following verses:
"'When my body was soft like the lotus flower, when it was adorned
with ornaments and rich clothes, when it had all which attracted the
eye, I was so unhappy as not to see you.
"'To-day why do you come to contemplate a body, the sight of which
the eyes cannot bear, which games, pleasure, joy, and beauty have
abandoned, which inspires horror, and is stained with blood and dirt?'
"Upagupta answered her: 'I have not come to you, my sister, attracted
by the love of pleasure; but I am come to see the real nature of the
miserable objects of the enjoyments of man'" (H. B. I., p. 146 ff.).
Such is the character of the more ancient portions of the Sûtra-pitaka.
It consists largely of tales, most of which have much the same outward
form, the details only being varied; and all of which are intended to
impress some kind of moral upon their hearers. But the Sûtra collection
is composed of two different classes of works, the one class being
named by Burnouf simple Sûtras, the other developed Sûtras. The
developed Sûtras belong, according to the same authority, to a much
later period, and are marked off from the simple Sûtras by certain
well-defined characters. They are indeed of a kind which absolutely
precludes the notion that they can emanate in any way whatever from
Sakyamuni, or that they could have been composed during the modest
beginnings of his Church, when his followers were rather intent on
practical goodness than on pompous and high-flown descriptions of their
Master's magnificence. Not that all the Sûtras classed by Burnouf as
simple must needs belong to a very early age; but that the developed
Sûtras certainly could not have been written until some centuries after
Sakyamuni's death, when his disciples, instead of using their voices
in actual conversation, enjoyed the leisure and the means to employ
their pens in attempted fine writing. Burnouf has given the public a
single specimen of a Sûtra of this class, and they must be very devoted
students of Oriental literature who wish for another. Here is a sample
of its style:—
"Then the Bodhisattva Mahâsattva Akshayamati having risen from his
seat, after throwing his upper garment over his shoulder, and placing
his right knee on the ground, directing his joined hands, in token of
respect, to the quarter where Bhagavat was, addressed him in these
words: 'Why, O Bhagavat, does the Bodhisattva Mahâsattva Avalokitesvara
bear that name?' This having been said, Bhagavat spoke thus to the
Bodhisattva Akshayamati: 'O son of a family, all the hundreds of
thousands of myriads of creatures existing in the world who suffer
pains, have but to hear the name of the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara to
be delivered from this mass of pains'" (Lotus, p. 261).
The extraordinary diffuseness of this kind of composition is scarcely
credible. Not only is every doctrine elaborated in the utmost number of
words possible, but its exposition in prose is regularly followed by a
second exposition in verse. Add to this peculiar feature of developed
Sûtras another, namely, that innumerable crowds of supernatural
auditors (especially Bodhisattvas, or future Buddhas) are present at
their delivery by the Buddha, and take part in the dialogue, or demand
explanations on knotty points, and some conception may be formed of
their wholly unreal and unnatural character. Thus, the Lotus concludes
with the statement that innumerable Tathâgatas (Buddhas) come from
other universes, seated on thrones near diamond trees, innumerable
Bodhisattvas, and the whole of the four assemblies of the universe,
with Devas (gods), men, Asuras, and Gandharvas, transported with joy,
praised what Bhagavat had said. Although the simple Sûtras mention the
presence of gods at the Buddha's teaching, yet they do not (so far as I
am aware) introduce these hosts of Bodhisattvas and Buddhas belonging
to other worlds than ours. Their horizon had not extended itself to
such vast limits, and they confined themselves to the universe in which
we live.
SUBDIVISION 3.—_The Abhidharma-pitaka._
A third section of the Canon remains, the Abhidharma, or Metaphysics.
Buddhist metaphysics are so absolutely mystical that it would be a
waste of time to enlarge upon them in a work not specially consecrated
to Oriental subjects. The subtleties of the Indian mind would require
far more space to explain than would be consistent with the objects
in view here, even if the writer were competent to explain them. The
impression left on the mind by the perusal of the Abhidharma is that
we delude ourselves if we believe in the reality of anything whatever.
There is no material world; all we see, hear, feel or believe, is
illusion; our thoughts themselves are no-thoughts; this doctrine is
that of wisdom and truth, but there is no wisdom and no truth. The
Buddha arrives by his meditations at this sublime knowledge; but there
is no meditation and no knowledge. He conducts living creatures to
Nirvâna: but there are neither creatures to be conducted, nor a Buddha
to conduct them. All is nothingness, and nothingness is all. That this
nihilism is common to all the schools into which Buddhists are divided,
I do not mean to assert. There are in Nepaul certain schools which hold
a peculiar modification of theism, and they probably may not embrace
these strange and unintelligible systems. But the views—if views they
can be called—which have just been described, do mark the canonical
books of the Abhidharma with which I am acquainted; such as the
so-called Pradjnâ Pâramitâ, or Perfection of Wisdom. There is, however,
one metaphysical theory which is not a mere series of contradictions,
and which, from its close connection with the deepest roots of the
Buddhistic faith, deserves more than a mere cursory mention. It is the
dogma known as that of the twelve Nidânas, or successive causes of
existence.
It has already been explained that the original aim of Buddhism—the
salvation offered by Sakyamuni—was deliverance from this painful
existence. The four truths which formed the foundation of his system
have also been spoken of. It may be well to remind the reader that
they are these:—1. The existence of Pain; 2. The production of Pain;
3. The annihilation of Pain; 4. The way to the annihilation of Pain.
Now if existence was, as the Buddhists believed, the source of pain,
it was important to discover the source of existence. This the theory
of the Nidânas professes to do. It is therefore not only intimately
related to the four great truths, but forms an essential supplement
to them. A very ancient formula, discovered not only in books but on
images, declares that, "Of all things proceeding from cause, the cause
of their procession hath the Tathâgata explained. The great Sramana has
likewise declared the cause of the extinction of all things." Whether
this formula refers to the four truths, or to the Nidânas, it is
impossible to say. The Nidânas, however, might well be referred to in
these terms. They are described in a passage which Burnouf has quoted
from the Lalitavistara, in which the Bodhisattva (afterwards Buddha) is
stated to have risen through prolonged meditation from the knowledge of
each successive consequent to that of its antecedent. The Bodhisattva,
we are told, collected his thoughts and fixed his intelligence in the
last watch of night, just before the dawn appeared. "Then this thought
came into his mind: The existence of this world, which is born, grows
old, dies, falls, and is born again, is certainly an evil. But he could
not recognize the means of quitting this world, which is nothing but a
great accumulation of sorrows, which is composed but of decrepitude,
illness, death, and other miseries, which are altogether formed of them.
"This reflection brought the following thought into his mind: What is
the thing the existence of which leads to decrepitude and death, and
what cause have decrepitude and death? This reflection came into his
mind: Birth existing, decrepitude and death exist; for decrepitude and
death have birth as their cause."
A similar process of reasoning led him to see that the cause of birth
was existence; that of existence, conception; that of conception,
desire; that of desire, sensation; that of sensation, contact; that of
contact, the six seats of sensible qualities; that of the six seats,
name and form; that of name and form, knowledge; that of knowledge,
the concepts; that of the concepts, ignorance. "It is thus," exclaims
the Bodhisattva when this great light had burst upon him, "it is thus
that the production of this world, which is but a mass of sorrows,
takes place." And by an inverse process he went on to reflect that if
ignorance did not exist, neither would the concepts, and so on through
every link of the chain. Until at length, "from the annihilation of
birth results the annihilation of decrepitude, of death, of sufferings,
of lamentations, of sorrow, of regret, of despair. It is thus that
the annihilation of this world, which is but a mass of sorrows, takes
place" (H. B. I., p. 487).
This speculation is by no means easy to understand. Apparently it
means that ignorance, in the sense of a mistaken notion of the reality
of the material world, leads to a whole series of blunders, ending
inevitably in birth. From this fundamental error or belief in the
existence of sensible objects spring certain other false conceptions.
Knowledge, which next ensues, may mean not merely cognition but
consciousness, knowledge of our existence; and in this sense, or in
something like it, it must be taken in order to explain the apparent
paradox of a deduction of the pedigree of knowledge directly from
ignorance. Hence name and form, a still further distinction of the
individual—a specialization of the vague knowledge of himself which
the last stage brought him to. The next step carries us on to the six
seats of sensible qualities; a phrase expressing the organs by which
sensible qualities are perceived—the five senses, and _Manas_, the
heart, which the Indians considered as a sixth sense. It appears also
from Burnouf's remarks that the Sanskrit term includes along with the
organs the qualities they perceive, the Law being assigned to the
heart or internal sense as the object of its perception. The six seats
being given, contact follows; contact implies sensation, and sensation
naturally leads to desire. Conception is represented as the effect of
desire, but another translation of this term by attachment, fondness
for material things, renders the sequence easier to understand.
Attachment to anything but the three gems—the Buddha, the Law, and the
Church—is, however, a fatal error, and leads to the melancholy result
of existence. Evidently, however, the being whose downward progress
has thus been described must have existed before, and the event here
alluded to must probably be the passage into the definite condition of
the human embryo. And this is rather confirmed by the fact that the
next step is that of birth, followed, as a matter of course, by the
miseries of human life, terminating in death.[67] And death, unless
every remnant of attachment to, and desire for, all worldly things has
been purged away, unless every trace of sinful tendencies has been
obliterated, is but a fresh beginning of the same weary round.
SUBDIVISION 4.—_Theology and Ethics of the Tripitaka._
Thus we have examined in succession the three great divisions of the
Buddhist Canon. We may pass over a comparatively late and spurious
addition to it, the Tantras—full of the worship of strange gods and
goddesses, and of magical formularies—to consider the general features
of these sacred works in reference to their theological teaching and
to their moral tendency. Theology is perhaps a term that will be held
to be misplaced in speaking of a system which acknowledges no God. Yet
Buddhism is so full of supernatural creatures, and the Buddha himself
occupies a position so nearly divine, that it would be hard to find
a more appropriate word. Buddha himself is the central figure of the
whole of his system, far more completely than Christ is the central
figure of Christianity, or Mahomet of Islam. There is no Deity above
him; he stands out alone, unrivaled, unequaled, and unapproachable. The
gods of the Hindu pantheon are by no means annihilated in the Buddhist
Scriptures. On the contrary, they play a certain part in them, as when
some of the greatest among their number assist at the delivery of Mâyâ.
But the part assigned to them is always a subordinate one; they are
practically set aside, not by the skeptical process of questioning
their existence, but by the more subtle one of introducing them as
humbly seated at the Buddha's footstool, and devout recipients of his
instructions. Hostility to Gautama Buddha there may be, but not from
them. It proceeds from heretical Brahmans—rivals in trade—and from
those whom they may for a time deceive. The gods are among the most
docile of his pupils, and display a praiseworthy eagerness to acquire
the knowledge he may condescend to impart. Infinitely above gods and
men, because possessing infinitely deeper knowledge and infinitely
higher virtue, stands the Tathâgata, the man who walks in the footsteps
of his predecessors. His position is the greatest to which any mortal
creature can attain. But it has been attained by many before, and
will be by many hereafter. Far away into ages separated from ours by
millions of millions of years stretches the long list of Buddhas, for
every age has received a similar light to lighten up its darkness. All
have led lives marked by the same incidents, and have taught the same
truths. But by and by the darkness has returned; the doctrines of the
former Buddha have been forgotten, and a new one has been needed. Then
in due season he has appeared, and has again opened to mankind the path
of salvation. Thus Kâsyapa Buddha preceded Gautama Buddha, and Maitreya
(now a Bodhisattva) will succeed him. The Buddha is an object of the
most devout adoration. Prayers are addressed to him; his relics are
enshrined in Stûpas, or buildings erected by the piety of believers
to cover them; his footprints are viewed with reverential awe, and
his tooth, preserved in Ceylon, receives the constant homage of that
pious population. Thus his position is not unlike that of a true Deity,
though the theory of Buddhism would require us to suppose that he is
non-existent, and therefore wholly unable to aid his worshippers. But
this theory is not acted upon, and is probably not held in all its
strictness; for Buddha—though to some extent superseded in Northern
Buddhism by other divinities—is the object of a decided worship in both
its elements of prayer and praise.
But the preëminent station occupied by a Buddha is not reached without
a long and painful education. Through ages, the length of which is
scarcely to be expressed by numbers, they are qualifying themselves for
their glorious task. During this period they are termed Bodhisattvas,
that is, beings who have taken a solemn resolution to become Buddhas,
and are practicing the necessary virtues. The very fact of taking this
resolution is an exercise of exalted benevolence, for their excellence
is such that they might, if they pleased, enter at once into Nirvâna.
But such is their love for the human race, that they prefer to be
born again and again in a world of woe, in order to throw open Nirvâna
to others besides themselves. To attain their end, they must make
an offering to some actual Buddha, wishing at the same time that by
virtue of this act they may become Buddhas themselves; and they must
receive an assurance from the object of their gift that this wish
will be fulfilled. Thus Gautama, who happened at the time to be a
prince, presented a golden vessel full of oil to a Buddha named Purana
Dîpankara, with the wish alluded to, and was assured by him that he
would in a future age become a supreme Buddha (M. B., p. 92). The tales
of the pains endured, the sacrifices made, the virtues practiced by
Gautama during this probationary period are numerous and varied. He
himself, by virtue of his faculty of knowing the past, related them to
his disciples. He had sacrificed wife, children, property, even his
own person, for the good of other living creatures; he had endured
all kinds of sufferings; he had shown himself capable of the rarest
unselfishness, the most perfect purity, the most unswerving rectitude.
The tale of his endurances might move compassion, had it not been
crowned at last with the highest reward to which a mortal can aspire.
While the Buddha occupies the first rank among human and superhuman
beings, and a Bodhisattva the second, the Scriptures introduce us to
others holding very conspicuous places among the spiritual nobility.
Such, for instance, are the Pratyeka Buddhas. These are persons of very
high intelligence and very extraordinary merit. But they are unable
to communicate their knowledge to others. They can save themselves;
others they cannot save. Herein lies their inferiority to supreme
Buddhas,—that while their spiritual attainments are sufficient to
ensure their entry into Nirvâna, they are inadequate to enable them to
obtain the same privilege for any other person.
In addition to these not very interesting Buddhas, the legends speak
of certain grades of intelligence attained by Gautama's hearers.
Thus, we are often told that many of the audience—perhaps hundreds
of thousands—after hearing a sermon from him, became Arhats; others
are said to have become Anâgâmin, Sakridâgâmin, or Srotâpanna. These
degrees are based upon the reception of the four truths. According to
the manner in which a man received these truths, he entered one of
eight paths, each of the four degrees having two classes, a higher and
a lower one. Sometimes these paths are called "fruits;" a disciple
is said to obtain the fruits of such and such a state. An Arhat is a
person of very high station indeed. Excepting a Buddha, none is equal
to him, either in knowledge or miraculous powers, both of which he
possesses to a preëminent extent. The Arhat after his death enters
at once into Nirvâna. The Anâgâmin enters the third path (from the
bottom), and is exempt from re-birth except in the world of Devas,
or gods. He who obtains or "sees" the fruit of the second path is
born once more in the world of gods or in that of men. Finally, the
Srotâpanna undergoes re-birth either among gods or men seven times, and
is then delivered from the stream of existence.[68]
Below the fortunate travelers along the path stands the mass of
ordinary believers. All of these, of course, aim ultimately—or should
aim—at that perfection of knowledge and of character which ensures
Nirvâna; but in popular Buddhism at the present day this distant goal
appears to be well-nigh forgotten, and to have given place to some
heaven, or place of enjoyment, above which the general hope does not
rise.
Believers in general are divided into two classes, Bhikshus and
Bhikshunîs, or monks and nuns; and Upâsakas, lay disciples. The
distinction between these classes is well illustrated by the following
extract from a sacred book, the consideration of which will lead us
from the domain of theology into that of morality:—"What is to be
done in the condition of a mendicant?—The rules of chastity must be
observed during the whole of life.—That is not possible; are there
no other means?—There are others, friend; namely, to be a devotee
(Upâsaka).—What is to be done in this condition?—It is necessary during
the whole of one's life to abstain from murder, theft, pleasure,
lying, and the use of intoxicating liquors." The injunctions thus
stated to be binding on the laity are in fact the first five of the
ten commandments, pleasure being simply a designation of unchastity,
which the layman as well as the monk is here ordered to eschew. The
first five commandments are in fact general, referring to universal
ethical obligations, not merely to monastic discipline, like the
other five. But Buddhist morality is by no means merely negative. It
enjoins not only abstinence from such definite sins as these, but the
practice of positive virtues in their most exalted forms. In no system
is benevolence, or, as it is termed in the English New Testament,
charity, more emphatically inculcated. Exhibited, as we have seen it
is, in the highest degree by Buddha himself, it should be illustrated
to the extent of their capabilities by all his followers. Chastity is
the subject of almost equal praise. And the other virtues come in for
their share of recognition, the general object of the examples held
up to admiration being to exhort the faithful to a life spotless in
all its parts, like that of their master. With this aim the legends
related generally fall into some such form as this: Characters appear
who undergo some suffering, but receive also some great reward, such as
meeting with Buddha, and embracing his religion. It is then explained
by Buddha that the sufferings were the result of some bad action done
in a former life, and the benefit received the result of some good
action; while he will probably add that he himself in that bygone
age stood in the relation of a benefactor to the recipient of his
faith. Or a number of persons are introduced playing various parts,
good and evil, and receiving blessings or misfortunes. One of these
is conspicuous by the excellence of his conduct. Then, at the end of
the story, the disciples are told not to imagine that this model of
virtue is any other than Sakyamuni himself, while the other characters
are translated, according to their special peculiarities, each into
some individual living at the time, and forming either one of Buddha's
retinue, or connected with him by ties of kindred, or (if wicked)
marked by hostility to his person or doctrine. Thus, the bad parts in
these dramas are often allotted to his cousin Devadatta, who figures in
these Scriptures as his typical opponent.
The essential doctrine of all these moral fictions—the corner-stone
of Buddhist ethics—is that every single act of virtue receives its
reward, every single transgression its punishment. The consequences of
our good deeds or misdeeds, mystically embodied in our Karma, follow
us from life to life, from earth to heaven, from earth to hell, and
from heaven or hell to earth again. Karma expresses an idea by no means
easily seized. Perhaps it may be defined as the sum total of our moral
actions, good and bad, conceived as a kind of entity endowed with the
force of destiny. It is our Karma that determines the character of our
successive existences. It is our Karma that determines whether our next
birth shall be in heaven or hell, in a happy or miserable condition
here below. And as Karma is but the result of our own actions, each of
which must bear its proper fruit, the balance, either on the credit or
debit side of our account, must always be paid; to us or by us, as the
case may be.
Let us illustrate this by an instance or two. A certain prince, named
Kunâla, remarkable for his personal beauty, had been deprived of his
eyes through an intrigue in his father's harem. Sakyamuni, in pointing
the moral, informs his disciples that Kunâla had formerly been a
huntsman, who finding five hundred gazelles in a cave, had put out
their eyes in order to preclude their escape. For this cruelty he had
suffered the pains of hell for hundreds of thousands of years, and had
then had his eyes put out in human existences. But Kunâla also enjoyed
great advantages. He was the son of a king, he possessed an attractive
person, and, above all, he had embraced the truths of Buddhism. Why was
this? Because he had once caused a Stûpa of a former Buddha, which an
unbelieving monarch had suffered to be pulled to pieces, to be rebuilt,
and had likewise restored a statue of this same Buddha which had been
spoilt (H. B. I., p. 414). The truly Buddhistic spirit of this young
prince is evinced by the circumstance that he interceded earnestly with
his father for the pardon of his stepmother who had caused him to be so
cruelly mutilated.
In another case, a poor old woman, who had led a miserable existence as
the slave of an unfeeling master and mistress, was re-born in one of
the heavens, known as that of the three-and-thirty gods. Five hundred
goddesses descended to the cemetery where she had been heedlessly
thrown into the ground, strewed flowers on her bones, and offered them
spices. The reason of all this honor was, that on the previous day
she had met with Kâtyâyana, an apostle of Buddhism, had drawn water
and presented it to him in his bowl, and had consequently received a
blessing from him, with an exhortation to enter her mistress's room
after she had gone to sleep, and sitting on a heap of hay to fix her
mind exclusively upon Buddha. This advice she had attended to, and had
consequently received the above-named reward (W. u. T., p. 153).
Good and evil, under this elaborate system, are thus the seeds which,
by an invariable law, produce their appropriate fruits in a future
state. The doctrine may in fact be best described in the words
attributed to its author:—"A previous action does not die; be it good
or evil, it does not die; the society of the virtuous is not lost;
that which is done, that which is said, for the Aryas,[69] for these
grateful persons, never dies. A good action well done, a bad action
wickedly done, when they have arrived at their maturity, equally bear
an inevitable fruit" (H. B. I., p. 98).