Buddha, or more correctly, the Buddha,--for Buddha is an appellative

meaning Enlightened,--was born at Kapilavastu, the capital of a kingdom of

the same name, situated at the foot of the mountains of Nepal, north of the

present Oude. His father, the king of Kapilavastu, was of the family of the

_S_akyas, and belonged to the clan of the Gautamas. His mother was

Mayadevi, daughter of king Suprabuddha, and need we say that she was as

beautiful as he was powerful and just? Buddha was therefore by birth of the

Kshatriya or warrior caste, and he took the name of _S_akya from his

family, and that of Gautama from his clan, claiming a kind of spiritual

relationship with the honoured race of Gautama. The name of Buddha, or the

Buddha, dates from a later period of his life, and so probably does the

name Siddhartha (he whose objects have been accomplished), though we are

told that it was given him in his childhood. His mother died seven days

after his birth, and the father confided the child to the care of his

deceased wife's sister, who, however, had been his wife even before the

mother's death. The child grew up a most beautiful and most accomplished

boy, who soon knew more than his masters could teach him. He refused to

take part in the games of his playmates, and never felt so happy as when he

could sit alone, lost in meditation in the deep shadows of the forest. It

was there that his father found him, when he had thought him lost, and in

order to prevent the young prince from becoming a dreamer, the king

determined to marry him at once. When the subject was mentioned by the aged

ministers to the future heir to the throne, he demanded seven days for

reflection, and convinced at last that not even marriage could disturb the

calm of his mind, he allowed the ministers to look out for a princess. The

princess selected was the beautiful Gopa, the daughter of Da_nd_apa_n_i.

Though her father objected at first to her marrying a young prince who was

represented to him as deficient in manliness and intellect, he gladly gave

his consent when he saw the royal suitor distancing all his rivals both in

feats of arms and power of mind. Their marriage proved one of the happiest,

but the prince remained, as he had been before, absorbed in meditation on

the problems of life and death. 'Nothing is stable on earth,' he used to

say, 'nothing is real. Life is like the spark produced by the friction of

wood. It is lighted and is extinguished--we know not whence it came or

whither it goes. It is like the sound of a lyre, and the wise man asks in

vain from whence it came and whither it goes. There must be some supreme

intelligence where we could find rest. If I attained it, I could bring

light to man; if I were free myself, I could deliver the world.' The king,

who perceived the melancholy mood of the young prince, tried every thing to

divert him from his speculations: but all was in vain. Three of the most

ordinary events that could happen to any man, proved of the utmost

importance in the career of Buddha. We quote the description of these

occurrences from M. Barthelemy Saint-Hilaire:

'One day when the prince with a large retinue drove through

the eastern gate of the city on the way to one of his parks,

he met on the road an old man, broken and decrepit. One

could see the veins and muscles over the whole of his body,

his teeth chattered, he was covered with wrinkles, bald, and

hardly able to utter hollow and unmelodious sounds. He was

bent on his stick, and all his limbs and joints trembled.

"Who is that man?" said the prince to his coachman. "He is

small and weak, his flesh and his blood are dried up, his

muscles stick to his skin, his head is white, his teeth

chatter, his body is wasted away; leaning on his stick he is

hardly able to walk, stumbling at every step. Is there

something peculiar in his family, or is this the common lot

of all created beings?"

'"Sir," replied the coachman, "that man is sinking under old

age, his senses have become obtuse, suffering has destroyed

his strength, and he is despised by his relations. He is

without support and useless, and people have abandoned him,

like a dead tree in a forest. But this is not peculiar to

his family. In every creature youth is defeated by old age.

Your father, your mother, all your relations, all your

friends, will come to the same state; this is the appointed

end of all creatures."

'"Alas!" replied the prince, "are creatures so ignorant, so

weak and foolish, as to be proud of the youth by which they

are intoxicated, not seeing the old age which awaits them!

As for me, I go away. Coachman, turn my chariot quickly.

What have I, the future prey of old age,--what have I to do

with pleasure?" And the young prince returned to the city

without going to his park.

'Another time the prince drove through the southern gate to

his pleasure garden, when he perceived on the road a man

suffering from illness, parched with fever, his body wasted,

covered with mud, without a friend, without a home, hardly

able to breathe, and frightened at the sight of himself and

the approach of death. Having questioned his coachman, and

received from him the answer which he expected, the young

prince said, "Alas! health is but the sport of a dream, and

the fear of suffering must take this frightful form. Where

is the wise man who, after having seen what he is, could any

longer think of joy and pleasure?" The prince turned his

chariot and returned to the city.

'A third time he drove to his pleasure garden through the

western gate, when he saw a dead body on the road, lying on

a bier, and covered with a cloth. The friends stood about

crying, sobbing, tearing their hair, covering their heads

with dust, striking their breasts, and uttering wild cries.

The prince, again calling his coachman to witness this

painful scene, exclaimed, "Oh! woe to youth, which must be

destroyed by old age! Woe to health, which must be destroyed

by so many diseases! Woe to this life, where a man remains

so short a time! If there were no old age, no disease, no

death; if these could be made captive for ever!" Then

betraying for the first time his intentions, the young

prince said, "Let us turn back, I must think how to

accomplish deliverance."

'A last meeting put an end to his hesitation. He drove

through the northern gate on the way to his pleasure

gardens, when he saw a mendicant who appeared outwardly

calm, subdued, looking downwards, wearing with an air of

dignity his religious vestment, and carrying an alms-bowl.

'"Who is this man?" asked the prince.

'"Sir," replied the coachman, "this man is one of those who

are called bhikshus, or mendicants. He has renounced all

pleasures, all desires, and leads a life of austerity. He

tries to conquer himself. He has become a devotee. Without

passion, without envy, he walks about asking for alms."

'"This is good and well said," replied the prince. "The life

of a devotee has always been praised by the wise. It will be

my refuge, and the refuge of other creatures; it will lead

us to a real life, to happiness and immortality."

'With these words the young prince turned his chariot and

returned to the city.'

* * * * *

After having declared to his father and his wife his intention of

retiring from the world, Buddha left his palace one night when all the

guards that were to have watched him, were asleep. After travelling

the whole night, he gave his horse and his ornaments to his groom, and

sent him back to Kapilavastu. 'A monument,' remarks the author of the

Lalita-Vistara (p. 270), 'is still to be seen on the spot where the

coachman turned back,' Hiouen-Thsang (II. 330) saw the same monument

at the edge of a large forest, on his road to Ku_s_inagara, a city now

in ruins, and situated about fifty miles E.S.E. from Gorakpur.[59]

[Footnote 59: The geography of India at the time of Buddha, and later

at the time of Fahian and Hiouen-Thsang, has been admirably treated by

M. L. Vivien de Saint-Martin, in his 'Memoire Analytique sur la Carte

de l'Asie Centrale et de l'Inde,' in the third volume of M. Stanislas

Julien's 'Pelerins Bouddhistes.']

Buddha first went to Vai_s_ali, and became the pupil of a famous

Brahman, who had gathered round him 300 disciples. Having learnt all

that the Brahman could teach him, Buddha went away disappointed. He

had not found the road to salvation. He then tried another Brahman at

Ra_g_ag_r_iha, the capital of Magadha or Behar, who had 700

disciples, and there too he looked in vain for the means of

deliverance. He left him, followed by five of his fellow-students, and

for six years retired into solitude, near a village named Uruvilva,

subjecting himself to the most severe penances, previous to his

appearing in the world as a teacher. At the end of this period,

however, he arrived at the conviction that asceticism, far from giving

peace of mind and preparing the way to salvation, was a snare and a

stumbling-block in the way of truth. He gave up his exercises, and was

at once deserted as an apostate by his five disciples. Left to himself

he now began to elaborate his own system. He had learnt that neither

the doctrines nor the austerities of the Brahmans were of any avail

for accomplishing the deliverance of man, and freeing him from the

fear of old age, disease, and death. After long meditations, and

ecstatic visions, he at last imagined that he had arrived at that true

knowledge which discloses the cause, and thereby destroys the fear, of

all the changes inherent in life. It was from the moment when he

arrived at this knowledge, that he claimed the name of Buddha, the

Enlightened. At that moment we may truly say that the fate of millions

of millions of human beings trembled in the balance. Buddha hesitated

for a time whether he should keep his knowledge to himself, or

communicate it to the world. Compassion for the sufferings of man

prevailed, and the young prince became the founder of a religion

which, after more than 2000 years, is still professed by 455,000,000

of human beings.[60]

[Footnote 60: Though truth is not settled by majorities, it would be

interesting to know which religion, counts at the present moment the

largest numbers of believers. Berghaus, in his 'Physical Atlas,' gives

the following division of the human race according to religion:

Buddhists 31.2 per cent.

Christians 30.7 "

Mohammedans 15.7 "

Brahmanists 13.4 "

Heathens 8.7 "

Jews 0.3 "

As Berghaus does not distinguish the Buddhists in China from the

followers of Confucius and Lao-tse, the first place on the scale

belongs really to Christianity. It is difficult in China to say to

what religion a man belongs, as the same person may profess two or

three. The emperor himself, after sacrificing according to the ritual

of Confucius, visits a Tao-sse temple, and afterwards bows before an

image of Fo in a Buddhist chapel. ('Melanges Asiatiques de St.

Petersbourg,' vol. ii. p. 374.)]

The further history of the new teacher is very simple. He proceeded to

Benares, which at all times was the principal seat of learning in

India, and the first converts he made were the five fellow-students

who had left him when he threw off the yoke of the Brahmanical

observances. Many others followed; but as the Lalita-Vistara breaks

off at Buddha's arrival at Benares, we have no further consecutive

account of the rapid progress of his doctrine. From what we can gather

from scattered notices in the Buddhist canon, he was invited by the

king of Magadha, Bimbisara, to his capital, Ra_g_ag_r_iha. Many of his

lectures are represented as having been delivered at the monastery of

Kalantaka, with which the king or some rich merchant had presented

him; others on the Vulture Peak, one of the five hills that surrounded

the ancient capital.

Three of his most famous disciples, _S_ariputra, Katyayana, and

Maudgalyayana, joined him during his stay in Magadha, where he

enjoyed for many years the friendship of the king. That king was

afterwards assassinated by his son, A_g_ata_s_atru, and then we hear

of Buddha as settled for a time at _S_ravasti, north of the Ganges,

where Anathapi_nd_ada, a rich merchant, had offered him and his

disciples a magnificent building for their residence. Most of Buddha's

lectures or sermons were delivered at _S_ravasti, the capital of

Ko_s_ala; and the king of Ko_s_ala himself, Prasena_g_it, became a

convert to his doctrine. After an absence of twelve years we are told

that Buddha visited his father at Kapilavastu, on which occasion he

performed several miracles, and converted all the _S_akyas to his

faith. His own wife became one of his followers, and, with his aunt,

offers the first instance of female Buddhist devotees in India. We

have fuller particulars again of the last days of Buddha's life. He

had attained the good age of three score and ten, and had been on a

visit to Ra_g_ag_r_iha, where the king, A_g_ata_s_atru, the former

enemy of Buddha, and the assassin of his own father, had joined the

congregation, after making a public confession of his crimes. On his

return he was followed by a large number of disciples, and when on the

point of crossing the Ganges, he stood on a square stone, and turning

his eyes back towards Ra_g_ag_r_iha, he said, full of emotion, 'This

is the last time that I see that city.' He likewise visited Vai_s_ali,

and after taking leave of it, he had nearly reached the city of

Ku_s_inagara, when his vital strength began to fail. He halted in a

forest, and while sitting under a sal tree, he gave up the ghost, or,

as a Buddhist would say, entered into Nirva_n_a.

This is the simple story of Buddha's life. It reads much better in

the eloquent pages of M. Barthelemy Saint-Hilaire, than in the turgid

language of the Buddhists. If a critical historian, with the materials

we possess, entered at all on the process of separating truth from

falsehood, he would probably cut off much of what our biographer has

left. Professor Wilson, in his Essay on Buddha and Buddhism, considers

it doubtful whether any such person as Buddha ever actually existed.

He dwells on the fact that there are at least twenty different dates

assigned to his birth, varying from 2420 to 453 B.C. He points out

that the clan of the _S_akyas is never mentioned by early Hindu

writers, and he lays much stress on the fact that most of the proper

names of the persons connected with Buddha suggest an allegorical

signification. The name of his father means, he whose food is pure;

that of his mother signifies illusion; his own secular appellation,

Siddhartha, he by whom the end is accomplished. Buddha itself means,

the Enlightened, or, as Professor Wilson translates it less

accurately, he by whom all is known. The same distinguished scholar

goes even further, and maintaining that Kapilavastu, the birthplace of

Buddha, has no place in the geography of the Hindus, suggests that it

may be rendered, the substance of Kapila; intimating, in fact, the

Sankhya philosophy, the doctrine of Kapila Muni, upon which the

fundamental elements of Buddhism, the eternity of matter, the

principles of things, and the final extinction, are supposed to be

planned. 'It seems not impossible,' he continues, 'that _S_akya Muni

is an unreal being, and that all that is related of him is as much a

fiction, as is that of his preceding migrations, and the miracles that

attended his birth, his life, and his departure.' This is going far

beyond Niebuhr, far even beyond Strauss. If an allegorical name had

been invented for the father of Buddha, one more appropriate than

'Clean-food' might surely have been found. His wife is not the only

queen known by the name of Maya, Mayadevi, or Mayavati. Why, if these

names were invented, should his wife have been allowed to keep the

prosaic name of Gopa (cowherdess), and his father-in-law, that of

Da_nd_apa_n_i, 'Stick-hand?' As to his own name, Siddhartha, the

Tibetans maintain that it was given him by his parent, whose wish

(artha) had been fulfilled (siddha), as we hear of Desires and

Dieu-donnes in French. One of the ministers of Da_s_aratha had the

same name. It is possible also that Buddha himself assumed it in after

life, as was the case with many of the Roman surnames. As to the name

of Buddha, no one ever maintained that it was more than a title, the

Enlightened, changed from an appellative into a proper name, just like

the name of Christos, the Anointed, or Mohammed, the Expected.[61]

Kapilavastu would be a most extraordinary compound to express 'the

substance of the Sankhya philosophy.' But all doubt on the subject is

removed by the fact that both Fahian in the fifth, and Hiouen-Thsang

in the seventh centuries, visited the real ruins of that city.

[Footnote 61: See Sprenger, 'Das Leben des Mohammed,' 1861, vol. i. p.

155.]

Making every possible allowance for the accumulation of fiction which

is sure to gather round the life of the founder of every great

religion, we may be satisfied that Buddhism, which changed the aspect

not only of India, but of nearly the whole of Asia, had a real

founder; that he was not a Brahman by birth, but belonged to the

second or royal caste; that being of a meditative turn of mind, and

deeply impressed with the frailty of all created things, he became a

recluse, and sought for light and comfort in the different systems of

Brahman philosophy and theology. Dissatisfied with the artificial

systems of their priests and philosophers, convinced of the

uselessness, nay of the pernicious influence, of their ceremonial

practices and bodily penances, shocked, too, by their worldliness and

pharisaical conceit, which made the priesthood the exclusive property

of one caste and rendered every sincere approach of man to his Creator

impossible without their intervention, Buddha must have produced at

once a powerful impression on the people at large, when breaking

through all the established rules of caste, he assumed the privileges

of a Brahman, and throwing away the splendour of his royal position,

travelled about as a beggar, not shrinking from the defiling contact

of sinners and publicans. Though when we now speak of Buddhism, we

think chiefly of its doctrines, the reform of Buddha had originally

much more of a social than of a religious character. Buddha swept away

the web with which the Brahmans had encircled the whole of India.

Beginning as the destroyer of an old, he became the founder of a new

religion. We can hardly understand how any nation could have lived

under a system like that of the Brahmanic hierarchy, which coiled

itself round every public and private act, and would have rendered

life intolerable to any who had forfeited the favour of the priests.

That system was attacked by Buddha. Buddha might have taught whatever

philosophy he pleased, and we should hardly have heard his name. The

people would not have minded him, and his system would only have been

a drop in the ocean of philosophical speculation, by which India was

deluged at all times. But when a young prince assembled round him

people of all castes, of all ranks, when he defeated the Brahmans in

public disputations, when he declared the sacrifices by which they

made their living not only useless but sinful, when instead of severe

penance or excommunications inflicted by the Brahmans sometimes for

the most trifling offences, he only required public confession of sin

and a promise to sin no more: when the charitable gifts hitherto

monopolised by the Brahmans, began to flow into new channels,

supporting hundreds and thousands of Buddhist mendicants, more had

been achieved than probably Buddha himself had ever dreamt of; and he

whose meditations had been how to deliver the soul of man from misery

and the fear of death, had delivered the people of India from a

degrading thraldom and from priestly tyranny.

The most important element of the Buddhist reform has always been its

social and moral code, not its metaphysical theories. That moral code,

taken by itself, is one of the most perfect which the world has ever

known. On this point all testimonies from hostile and from friendly

quarters agree. Spence Hardy, a Wesleyan Missionary, speaking of the

Dhamma Padam, or the 'Footsteps of the Law,' admits that a collection

might be made from the precepts of this work, which in the purity of

its ethics could hardly be equalled from any other heathen author. M.

Laboulaye, one of the most distinguished members of the French

Academy, remarks in the 'Debats' of the 4th of April, 1853: 'It is

difficult to comprehend how men not assisted by revelation could have

soared so high, and approached so near to the truth.' Besides the five

great commandments not to kill, not to steal, not to commit adultery,

not to lie, not to get drunk, every shade of vice, hypocrisy, anger,

pride, suspicion, greediness, gossiping, cruelty to animals, is

guarded against by special precepts. Among the virtues recommended, we

find not only reverence of parents, care for children, submission to

authority, gratitude, moderation in time of prosperity, submission in

time of trial, equanimity at all times, but virtues unknown in any

heathen system of morality, such as the duty of forgiving insults and

not rewarding evil with evil. All virtues, we are told, spring from

Maitri, and this Maitri can only be translated by charity and love. 'I

do not hesitate,' says Burnouf,[62] 'to translate by charity the word

Maitri; it does not express friendship or the feeling of particular

affection which a man has for one or more of his fellow-creatures, but

that universal feeling which inspires us with good-will towards all

men and constant willingness to help them.' We add one more testimony

from the work of M. Barthelemy Saint-Hilaire:

'Je n'hesite pas a ajouter,' he writes, 'que, sauf le Christ

tout seul, il n'est point, parmi les fondateurs de religion,

de figure plus pure ni plus touchante que celle du Bouddha.

Sa vie n'a point de tache. Son constant heroisme egale sa

conviction; et si la theorie qu'il preconise est fausse, les

exemples personnels qu'il donne sont irreprochables. Il est

le modele acheve de toutes les vertus qu'il preche; son

abnegation, sa charite son inalterable douceur, ne se

dementent point un seul instant; il abandonne a vingt-neuf

ans la cour du roi son pere pour se faire religieux et

mendiant; il prepare silencieusement sa doctrine par six

annees de retraite et de meditation; il la propage par la

seule puissance de la parole et de la persuasion, pendant

plus d'un demi-siecle; et quand il meurt entre les bras de

ses disciples, c'est avec la serenite d'un sage qui a

pratique le bien toute sa vie, et qui est assure d'avoir

trouve le vrai.' (Page v.)

[Footnote 62: Burnouf, 'Lotus de la bonne Loi,' p. 300.]

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