Bimbasâra Râga, having, in a decorous manner, and with soothing speech,

made his request, the prince on his part respectfully replied, in the

following words, deep and heart-stirring: "Illustrious and

world-renowned! Your words are not opposed to reason, descendant of a

distinguished family--an Aryan--amongst men a true friend indeed,

righteous and sincere to the bottom of your heart, it is proper for

religion's sake to speak thus. In all the world, in its different

sections, there is no chartered place for solid virtue, for if virtue

flags and folly rules, what reverence can there be, or honor paid, to a

high name or boast of prowess, inherited from former generations! And so

there may be in the midst of great distress, large goodness, these are

not mutually opposed. This then is so with the world in the connection

of true worth and friendship. A true friend who makes good use of

wealth--is rightly called a fast and firm treasure, but he who guards

and stints the profit he has made, his wealth will soon be spent and

lost; the wealth of a country is no constant treasure, but that which is

given in charity is rich in returns, therefore charity is a true friend:

although it scatters, yet it brings no repentance; you indeed are known

as liberal and kind, I make no reply in opposition to you, but simply as

we meet, so with agreeable purpose we talk. I fear birth, old age,

disease, and death, and so I seek to find a sure mode of deliverance; I

have put away thought of relatives and family affection, how is it

possible then for me to return to the world and not to fear to revive

the poisonous snake, and after the hail to be burned in the fierce fire;

indeed, I fear the objects of these several desires, this whirling in

the stream of life troubles my heart, these five desires, the inconstant

thieves--stealing from men their choicest treasures, making them unreal,

false, and fickle--are like the man called up as an apparition; for a

time the beholders are affected by it, but it has no lasting hold upon

the mind; so these five desires are the great obstacles, forever

disarranging the way of peace; if the joys of heaven are not worth

having, how much less the desires common to men, begetting the thirst of

wild love, and then lost in the enjoyment, as the fierce wind fans the

fire, till the fuel be spent and the fire expires; of all unrighteous

things in the world, there is nothing worse than the domain of the five

desires; for all men maddened by the power of lust, giving themselves to

pleasure, are dead to reason. The wise man fears these desires, he fears

to fall into the way of unrighteousness; for like a king who rules all

within the four seas, yet still seeks beyond for something more, so is

lust; like the unbounded ocean, it knows not when and where to stop.

Mandha, the Kakravartin, when the heavens rained yellow gold, and he

ruled all within the seas, yet sighed after the domain of the

thirty-three heavens; dividing with Sakra his seat, and so through the

power of this lust he died; Nung-Sha, whilst practising austerities, got

power to rule the thirty-three heavenly abodes, but from lust he became

proud and supercilious; the Rishi whilst stepping into his chariot,

through carelessness in his gait, fell down into the midst of the

serpent pit. Yen-lo, the universal monarch (Kakravartin), wandering

abroad through the Trayastrimsas heaven, took a heavenly woman (Apsara)

for a queen, and unjustly extorted the gold of a Rishi; the Rishi, in

anger, added a charm, by which the country was ruined, and his life

ended. Po-lo, and Sakra king of Devas, and Nung-Sha returning to Sakra;

what certainty is there, even for the lord of heaven? Neither is any

country safe, though kept by the mighty strength of those dwelling in

it. But when one's clothing consists of grass, the berries one's food,

the rivulets one's drink, with long hair flowing to the ground, silent

as a Muni, seeking nothing, in this way practising austerities, in the

end lust shall be destroyed. Know then, that the province of the five

desires is avowedly an enemy of the religious man. Even the

one-thousand-armed invincible king, strong in his might, finds it hard

to conquer this. The Rishi Râma perished because of lust; how much more

ought I, the son of a Kshatriya, to restrain lustful desire; but indulge

in lust a little, and like the child it grows apace, the wise man hates

it therefore; who would take poison for food? every sorrow is increased

and cherished by the offices of lust. If there is no lustful desire, the

risings of sorrow are not produced, the wise man seeing the bitterness

of sorrow, stamps out and destroys the risings of desire; that which the

world calls virtue, is but another form of this baneful law; worldly men

enjoying the pleasure of covetous desire then every form of careless

conduct results; these careless ways producing hurt, at death, the

subject of them reaps perdition. But by the diligent use of means, and

careful continuance therein, the consequences of negligence are avoided,

we should therefore dread the non-use of means; recollecting that all

things are illusory, the wise man covets them not; he who desires such

things, desires sorrow, and then goes on again ensnared in love, with no

certainty of ultimate freedom; he advances still and ever adds grief to

grief, like one holding a lighted torch burns his hand, and therefore

the wise man enters on no such things. The foolish man and the one who

doubts, still encouraging the covetous and burning heart, in the end

receives accumulated sorrow, not to be remedied by any prospect of rest;

covetousness and anger are as the serpent's poison; the wise man casts

away the approach of sorrow as a rotten bone; he tastes it not nor

touches it, lest it should corrupt his teeth, that which the wise man

will not take, the king will go through fire and water to obtain, the

wicked sons labor for wealth as for a piece of putrid flesh, o'er which

the hungry flocks of birds contend. So should we regard riches; the wise

man is ill pleased at having wealth stored up, the mind wild with

anxious thoughts, guarding himself by night and day, as a man who fears

some powerful enemy, like as a man's feelings revolt with disgust at the

sights seen beneath the slaughter post of the East Market; so the high

post which marks the presence of lust, and anger, and ignorance, the

wise man always avoids; as those who enter the mountains or the seas

have much to contend with and little rest, as the fruit which grows on a

high tree, and is grasped at by the covetous at the risk of life, so is

the region of covetous desire, though they see the difficulty of getting

it, yet how painfully do men scheme after wealth, difficult to acquire,

easy to dissipate, as that which is got in a dream: how can the wise man

hoard up such trash! Like covering over with a false surface a hole full

of fire, slipping through which the body is burnt, so is the fire of

covetous desire. The wise man meddles not with it. Like that Kaurava, or

Pih-se-ni Nanda, or Ni-k'he-lai Danta, as some butcher's appearance,

such also is the appearance of lustful desire; the wise man will have

nothing to do with it; he would rather throw his body into the water or

fire, or cast himself down over a steep precipice. Seeking to obtain

heavenly pleasures, what is this but to remove the place of sorrow,

without profit. Sün-tau, Po-sun-tau, brothers of Asura, lived together

in great affection, but on account of lustful desire slew one another,

and their name perished; all this then comes from lust; it is this which

makes a man vile, and lashes and goads him with piercing sorrow; lust

debases a man, robs him of all hope, whilst through the long night his

body and soul are worn out; like the stag that covets the power of

speech and dies, or the winged bird that covets sensual pleasure, or the

fish that covets the baited hook, such are the calamities that lust

brings; considering what are the requirements of life, none of these

possess permanency; we eat to appease the pain of hunger, to do away

with thirst we drink, we clothe ourselves to keep out the cold and wind,

we lie down to rest to get sleep, to procure locomotion we seek a

carriage, when we would halt we seek a seat, we wash to cleanse

ourselves from dirt; all these things are done to avoid inconvenience;

we may gather therefore that these five desires have no permanent

character; for as a man suffering from fever seeks and asks for some

cooling medicine, so covetousness seeks for something to satisfy its

longings; foolish men regard these things as permanent, and as the

necessary requirements of life, but, in sooth, there is no permanent

cessation of sorrow; for by coveting to appease these desires we really

increase them; there is no character of permanency therefore about them.

To be filled and clothed are no lasting pleasures, time passes, and the

sorrow recurs; summer is cool during the moon-tide shining; winter comes

and cold increases; and so through all the eightfold laws of the world

they possess no marks of permanence, sorrow and joy cannot agree

together, as a person slave-governed loses his renown. But religion

causes all things to be of service, as a king reigning in his

sovereignty; so religion controls sorrow, as one fits on a burden

according to power of endurance. Whatever our condition in the world,

still sorrows accumulate around us. Even in the condition of a king, how

does pain multiply, though bound to others by love, yet this is a cause

of grief; without friends and living alone, what joy can there be in

this? Though a man rules over the four kingdoms, yet only one part can

be enjoyed; to be concerned in ten thousand matters, what profit is

there in this, for we only accumulate anxieties. Put an end to sorrow,

then, by appeasing desire, refrain from busy work, this is rest. A king

enjoys his sensual pleasures; deprived of kingship there is the joy of

rest; in both cases there are pleasures but of different kinds; why then

be a king! Make then no plan or crafty expedient, to lead me back to the

five desires; what my heart prays for, is some quiet place and freedom;

but you desire to entangle me in relationships and duties, and destroy

the completion of what I seek; I am in no fear of family hatred, nor do

I seek the joys of heaven; my heart hankers after no vulgar profit, so I

have put away my royal diadem; and contrary to your way of thinking, I

prefer, henceforth, no more to rule. A hare rescued from the serpent's

mouth, would it go back again to be devoured? holding a torch and

burning himself, would not a man let it go? A man blind and recovering

his sight, would he again seek to be in darkness? the rich, does he sigh

for poverty? the wise, does he long to be ignorant? Has the world such

men as these? then will I again enjoy my country. But I desire to get

rid of birth, old age, and death, with body restrained, to beg my food;

with appetites moderated, to keep in my retreat; and then to avoid the

evil modes of a future life, this is to find peace in two worlds: now

then I pray you pity me not. Pity, rather, those who rule as kings!

their souls ever vacant and athirst, in the present world no repose,

hereafter receiving pain as their meed. You, who possess a distinguished

family name, and the reverence due to a great master, would generously

share your dignity with me, your worldly pleasures and amusements; I,

too, in return, for your sake, beseech you to share my reward with me;

he who indulges in the threefold kinds of pleasure, this man the world

calls 'Lord,' but this is not according to reason either, because these

things cannot be retained, but where there is no birth, or life, or

death, he who exercises himself in this way, is Lord indeed! You say

that while young a man should be gay, and when old then religious, but I

regard the feebleness of age as bringing with it loss of power to be

religious, unlike the firmness and power of youth, the will determined

and the heart established; but death as a robber with a drawn sword

follows us all, desiring to catch his prey; how then should we wait for

old age, ere we bring our mind to a religious life? Inconstancy is the

great hunter, age his bow, disease his arrows, in the fields of life and

death he hunts for living things as for the deer; when he can get his

opportunity, he takes our life; who then would wait for age? And what

the teachers say and do, with reference to matters connected with life

and death, exhorting the young, mature, or middle-aged, all to contrive

by any means, to prepare vast meetings for sacrifices, this they do

indeed of their own ignorance; better far to reverence the true law, and

put an end to sacrifice to appease the gods! Destroying life to gain

religious merit, what love can such a man possess? even if the reward of

such sacrifices were lasting, even for this, slaughter would be

unseemly; how much more, when the reward is transient! Shall we, in

search of this, slay that which lives, in worship? this is like those

who practise wisdom, and the way of religious abstraction, but neglect

the rules of moral conduct. It ill behooves us then to follow with the

world, and attend these sacrificial assemblies, and seek some present

good in killing that which lives; the wise avoid destroying life! Much

less do they engage in general sacrifices, for the purpose of gaining

future reward! the fruit promised in the three worlds is none of mine to

choose for happiness! All these are governed by transient, fickle laws,

like the wind, or the drop that is blown from the grass; such things

therefore I put away from me, and I seek for true escape. I hear there

is one O-lo-lam who eloquently discourses on the way of escape; I must

go to the place where he dwells, that great Rishi and hermit. But in

truth, sorrow must be banished; I regret indeed leaving you; may your

country have repose and quiet! safely defended by you as by the divine

Sakra râga! May wisdom be shed abroad as light upon your empire, like

the brightness of the meridian sun! may you be exceedingly victorious as

lord of the great earth, with a perfect heart ruling over its destiny!

May you direct and defend its sons! ruling your empire in righteousness!

Water and snow and fire are opposed to one another, but the fire by its

influence causes vapor, the vapor causes the floating clouds, the

floating clouds drop down rain; there are birds in space, who drink the

rain, with rainless bodies.[100] Slaughter and peaceful homes are

enemies! those who would have peace hate slaughter, and if those who

slaughter are so hateful, then put an end, O king, to those who practise

it! And bid these find release, as those who drink and yet are parched

with thirst."

Then the king, clasping together his hands, with greatest reverence and

joyful heart, said, "That which you now seek, may you obtain quickly the

fruit thereof; having obtained the perfect fruit, return I pray and

graciously receive me!"

Bodhisattva, his heart inwardly acquiescing, purposing to accomplish his

prayer, departing, pursued his road, going to the place where Ârâda

Kâlâma dwelt; whilst the king with all his retinue, their hands clasped,

themselves followed a little space, then with thoughtful and mindful

heart, returned once more to Râgagriha!

Visit to Ârâda Udrarâma

The child of the glorious sun of the Ikshvâku race, going to that quiet

peaceful grove, reverently stood before the Muni, the great Rishi Ârâda

Râma; the dark-clad followers of the Kalam (Sanghârâma) seeing afar-off

Bodhisattva approaching, with loud voice raised a joyful chant, and with

suppressed breath muttered "Welcome," as with clasped hands they

reverenced him. Approaching one another, they made mutual inquiries; and

this being done, with the usual apologies, according to their precedence

in age they sat down; the Brahmakârins observing the prince, beheld his

personal beauty and carefully considered his appearance; respectfully

they satisfied themselves of his high qualities, like those who,

thirsty, drink the "pure dew." Then with raised hands they addressed the

prince: "Have you been long an ascetic, divided from your family and

broken from the bonds of love, like the elephant who has cast off

restraint? Full of wisdom, completely enlightened, you seem well able to

escape the poisonous fruit of this world. In old time the monarch Ming

Shing gave up his kingly estate to his son, as a man who has carried a

flowery wreath, when withered casts it away: but such is not your case,

full of youthful vigor, and yet not enamoured with the condition of a

holy king; we see that your will is strong and fixed, capable of

becoming a vessel of the true law, able to embark in the boat of wisdom,

and to cross over the sea of life and death. The common class, enticed

to come to learn, their talents first are tested, then they are taught;

but as I understand your case, your mind is already fixed and your will

firm; and now you have undertaken the purpose of learning, I am

persuaded you will not in the end shrink from it."

The prince hearing this exhortation, with gladness made reply: "You have

with equal intention, illustrious! cautioned me with impartial mind;

with humble heart I accept the advice, and pray that it may be so with

me as you anticipate; that I may in my night-journey obtain a torch, to

guide me safely through treacherous places; a handy boat to cross over

the sea;--may it be so even now with me! But as I am somewhat in doubt

and anxious to learn, I will venture to make known my doubts, and ask,

with respect to old age, disease, and death, how are these things to be

escaped?"

At this time O-lo-lam hearing the question asked by the prince, briefly

from the various Sutras and Sâstras quoted passages in explanation of a

way of deliverance. "But thou," he said, "illustrious youth! so highly

gifted, and eminent among the wise! hear what I have to say, as I

discourse upon the mode of ending birth and death; nature, and change,

birth, old age, and death, these five attributes belong to all; nature

is (in itself) pure and without fault; the involution of this with the

five elements, causes an awakening and power of perception, which,

according to its exercise, is the cause of change; form, sound, order,

taste, touch, these are called the five objects of sense; as the hand

and foot are called the two ways, so these are called the roots of

action (the five skandhas); the eye, the ear, the nose, the tongue, the

body, these are named the roots (instruments) of understanding. The root

of mind (manas) is twofold, being both material, and also intelligent;

nature by its involutions is the cause, the knower of the cause is I

(the soul); Kapila the Rishi and his numerous followers, on this deep

principle of soul, practising wisdom (Buddhi), found deliverance. Kapila

and now Vâkaspati, by the power of Buddhi perceiving the character of

birth, old age, and death, declare that on this is founded true

philosophy; whilst all opposed to this, they say, is false. Ignorance

and passion, causing constant transmigration, abiding in the midst of

these (they say) is the lot of all that lives. Doubting the truth of

soul is called excessive doubt, and without distinguishing aright, there

can be no method of escape. Deep speculation as to the limits of

perception is but to involve the soul; thus unbelief leads to confusion,

and ends in differences of thought and conduct. Again, the various

speculations on soul, such as 'I say,' 'I know and perceive,' 'I come'

and 'I go,' or 'I remain fixed,' these are called the intricacies of

soul. And then the fancies raised in different natures, some saying

'this is so,' others denying it, and this condition of uncertainty is

called the state of darkness. Then there are those who say that outward

things are one with soul, who say that the objective is the same as

mind, who confuse intelligence with instruments, who say that number is

the soul. Thus not distinguishing aright, these are called excessive

quibbles, marks of folly, nature changes, and so on. To worship and

recite religious books, to slaughter living things in sacrifice, to

render pure by fire and water, and thus awake the thought of final

rescue, all these ways of thinking are called without right expedient,

the result of ignorance and doubt, by means of word or thought or deed;

involving outward relationships, this is called depending on means;

making the material world the ground of soul, this is called depending

on the senses. By these eight sorts of speculation are we involved in

birth and death. The foolish masters of the world make their

classifications in these five ways: Darkness, folly, and great folly,

angry passion, with timid fear. Indolent coldness is called darkness;

birth and death are called folly; lustful desire is great folly; because

of great men subjected to error, cherishing angry feelings, passion

results; trepidation of the heart is called fear. Thus these foolish men

dilate upon the five desires; but the root of the great sorrow of birth

and death, the life destined to be spent in the five ways, the cause of

the whirl of life, I clearly perceive, is to be placed in the existence

of 'I'; because of the influence of this cause, result the consequences

of repeated birth and death; this cause is without any nature of its

own, and its fruits have no nature; rightly considering what has been

said, there are four matters which have to do with escape, kindling

wisdom--opposed to dark ignorance--making manifest--opposed to

concealment and obscurity--if these four matters be understood, then we

may escape birth, old age, and death. Birth, old age, and death being

over, then we attain a final place; the Brahmans all depending on this

principle, practising themselves in a pure life, have also largely

dilated on it, for the good of the world."

The prince hearing these words again inquired of Ârâda: "Tell me what

are the expedients you name, and what is the final place to which they

lead, and what is the character of that pure Brahman life; and again

what are the stated periods during which such life must be practised,

and during which such life is lawful; all these are principles to be

inquired into; and on them I pray you discourse for my sake."

Then that Ârâda, according to the Sutras and Sâstras, spoke: "Yourself

using wisdom is the expedient; but I will further dilate on this a

little; first by removing from the crowd and leading a hermit's life,

depending entirely on alms for food, extensively practising rules of

decorum, religiously adhering to right rules of conduct; desiring little

and knowing when to abstain, receiving whatever is given in food,

whether pleasant or otherwise, delighting to practise a quiet life,

diligently studying all the Sûtras and Sâstras; observing the character

of covetous longing and fear, without remnant of desire to live in

purity, to govern well the organs of life, the mind quieted and silently

at rest; removing desire, and hating vice, all the sorrows of life put

away, then there is happiness; and we obtain the enjoyment of the first

dhyâna.[101] Having obtained this first dhyâna, then with the

illumination thus obtained, by inward meditation is born reliance on

thought alone, and the entanglements of folly are put away; the mind

depending on this, then after death, born in the Brahma heavens, the

enlightened are able to know themselves; by the use of means is produced

further inward illumination; diligently persevering, seeking higher

advance, accomplishing the second dhyâna, tasting of that great joy, we

are born in the Kwong-yin heaven; then by the use of means putting away

this delight, practising the third dhyâna, resting in such delight and

wishing no further excellence, there is a birth in the Subhakritsna

heaven; leaving the thought of such delight, straightway we reach the

fourth dhyâna, all joys and sorrows done away, the thought of escape

produced; we dwell in this fourth dhyâna, and are born in the

Vrihat-phala heaven; because of its long enduring years, it is thus

called Vrihat-phala (extensive-fruit); whilst in that state of

abstraction rising higher, perceiving there is a place beyond any bodily

condition, adding still and persevering further in practising wisdom,

rejecting this fourth dhyâna, firmly resolved to persevere in the

search, still contriving to put away every desire after form, gradually

from every pore of the body there is perceived a feeling of empty

release, and in the end this extends to every solid part, so that the

whole is perfected in an apprehension of emptiness. In brief, perceiving

no limits to this emptiness, there is opened to the view boundless

knowledge. Endowed with inward rest and peace, the idea of 'I' departs,

and the object of 'I'--clearly discriminating the non-existence of

matter, this is the condition of immaterial life. As the Muñga (grass)

when freed from its horny case, or as the wild bird which escapes from

its prison trap, so, getting away from all material limitations, we thus

find perfect release. Thus ascending above the Brahmans, deprived of

every vestige of bodily existence, we still endure. Endued with wisdom!

let it be known this is real and true deliverance. You ask what are the

expedients for obtaining this escape; even as I have before detailed,

those who have deep faith will learn. The Rishis Gaigîshavya, Ganaka,

Vriddha Parâsara, and other searchers after truth, all by the way I have

explained, have reached true deliverance."

The prince hearing these words, deeply pondering on the outline of these

principles, and reaching back to the influences produced by our former

lives, again asked with further words: "I have heard your very excellent

system of wisdom, the principles very subtle and deep-reaching, from

which I learn that because of not 'letting go' (by knowledge as a

cause), we do not reach the end of the religious life; but by

understanding nature in its involutions, then, you say, we obtain

deliverance; I perceive this law of birth has also concealed in it

another law as a germ; you say that the 'I' (i.e. the soul of Kapila)

being rendered pure, forthwith there is true deliverance; but if we

encounter a union of cause and effect, then there is a return to the

trammels of birth; just as the germ in the seed, when earth, fire,

water, and wind seem to have destroyed in it the principle of life,

meeting with favorable concomitant circumstances will yet revive,

without any evident cause, but because of desire; so those who have

gained this supposed release, likewise keeping the idea of 'I' and

living things, have in fact gained no final deliverance; in every

condition, letting go the three classes and again reaching the three

excellent qualities, because of the eternal existence of soul, by the

subtle influences of that (influences resulting from the past), the

heart lets go the idea of expedients, and obtains an almost endless

duration of years. This, you say, is true release; you say 'letting go

the ground on which the idea of soul rests,' that this frees us from

'limited existence,' and that the mass of people have not yet removed

the idea of soul, and are therefore still in bondage. But what is this

letting go gunas (cords fettering the soul); if one is fettered by these

gunas, how can there be release? For gunî (the object) and guna (the

quality) in idea are different, but in substance one; if you say that

you can remove the properties of a thing and leave the thing by arguing

it to the end, this is not so. If you remove heat from fire, then there

is no such thing as fire, or if you remove surface from body, what body

can remain? Thus guna is as it were surface, remove this and there can

be no gunî. So that this deliverance, spoken of before, must leave a

body yet in bonds. Again, you say that by clear knowledge you get rid of

body; there is then such a thing as knowledge or the contrary; if you

affirm the existence of clear knowledge, then there should be someone

who possesses it (i.e. possesses this knowledge); if there be a

possesor, how can there be deliverance from this personal 'I'? If you

say there is no 'knower,' then who is it that is spoken of as 'knowing'?

If there is knowledge and no person, then the subject of knowledge may

be a stone or a log; moreover, to have clear knowledge of these minute

causes of contamination and reject them thoroughly, these being so

rejected, there must be an end, then, of the 'doer.' What Ârâda has

declared cannot satisfy my heart. This clear knowledge is not universal

wisdom, I must go on and seek a better explanation."

Going on then to the place of Udra Rishi, he also expatiated on this

question of "I." But although he refined the matter to the utmost,

laying down a term of "thought" and "no thought" taking the position of

removing "thought" and "no thought," yet even so he came not out of the

mire; for supposing creatures attained that state, still (he said) there

is a possibility of returning to the coil, whilst Bodhisattva sought a

method of getting out of it. So once more leaving Udra Rishi, he went on

in search of a better system, and came at last to Mount Kia-ke (the

forest of mortification), where was a town called Pain-suffering forest.

Here the five Bhikshus had gone before. When then he beheld these five,

virtuously keeping in check their senses, holding to the rules of moral

conduct, practising mortification, dwelling in that grove of

mortification; occupying a spot beside the Nairañgana river, perfectly

composed and filled with contentment, Bodhisattva forthwith by them

selecting one spot, quietly gave himself to thought. The five Bhikshus

knowing him with earnest heart to be seeking escape, offered him their

services with devotion, as if reverencing Isvara Deva.

Having finished their attentions and dutiful services, then going on he

took his seat not far off, as one about to enter on a course of

religious practice, composing all his members as he desired. Bodhisattva

diligently applied himself to "means," as one about to cross over old

age, disease, and death. With full purpose of heart he set himself to

endure mortification, to restrain every bodily passion, and give up

thought about sustenance, with purity of heart to observe the

fast-rules, which no worldly man can bear; silent and still, lost in

thoughtful meditation; and so for six years he continued, each day

eating one hemp grain, his bodily form shrunken and attenuated, seeking

how to cross the sea of birth and death, exercising himself still deeper

and advancing further; making his way perfect by the disentanglements of

true wisdom, not eating, and yet not looking to that as a cause of

emancipation, his four members although exceedingly weak, his heart of

wisdom increasing yet more and more in light; his spirit free, his body

light and refined, his name spreading far and wide, as "highly gifted,"

even as the moon when first produced, or as the Kumuda flower spreading

out its sweetness. Everywhere through the country his excellent fame

extended; the daughters of the lord of the place both coming to see him,

his mortified body like a withered branch, just completing the period of

six years, fearing the sorrow of birth and death, seeking earnestly the

method of true wisdom, he came to the conviction that these were not the

means to extinguish desire and produce ecstatic contemplation; nor yet

the means by which in former time, seated underneath the Gambu tree, he

arrived at that miraculous condition, that surely was the proper way, he

thought, the way opposed to this of "withered body."

"I should therefore rather seek strength of body, by drink and food

refresh my members, and with contentment cause my mind to rest. My mind

at rest, I shall enjoy silent composure; composure is the trap for

getting ecstasy (dhyâna); while in ecstasy perceiving the true law, then

the force of truth obtained, disentanglement will follow. And thus

composed, enjoying perfect quiet, old age and death are put away; and

then defilement is escaped by this first means; thus then by equal steps

the excellent law results from life restored by food and drink."

Having carefully considered this principle, bathing in the Nairañgana

river, he desired afterwards to leave the water, but owing to extreme

exhaustion was unable to rise; then a heavenly spirit holding out a

branch, taking this in his hand he raised himself and came forth. At

this time on the opposite side of the grove there was a certain chief

herdsman, whose eldest daughter was called Nandâ. One of the Suddhavâsa

Devas addressing her said, "Bodhisattva dwells in the grove, go you

then, and present to him a religious offering."

Nandâ Balada (or Balaga or Baladhya) with joy came to the spot, above

her hands (i.e. on her wrists) white chalcedony bracelets, her clothing

of a gray color; the gray and the white together contrasted in the

light, as the colors of the rounded river bubble; with simple heart and

quickened step she came, and, bowing down at Bodhisattva's feet, she

reverently offered him perfumed rice milk, begging him of his

condescension to accept it. Bodhisattva taking it, partook of it at

once, whilst she received, even then, the fruits of her religious act.

Having eaten it, all his members refreshed, he became capable of

receiving Bodhi; his body and limbs glistening with renewed strength,

and his energies swelling higher still, as the hundred streams swell the

sea, or the first quartered moon daily increases in brightness. The five

Bhikshus having witnessed this, perturbed, were filled with suspicious

reflection; they supposed that his religious zeal was flagging, and that

he was leaving and looking for a better abode, as though he had obtained

deliverance, the five elements entirely removed.

Bodhisattva wandered on alone, directing his course to that "fortunate"

tree,[102] beneath whose shade he might accomplish his search after

complete enlightenment. Over the ground wide and level, producing soft

and pliant grass, easily he advanced with lion step, pace by pace,

whilst the earth shook withal; and as it shook, Kâla nâga aroused, was

filled with joy, as his eyes were opened to the light. Forthwith he

exclaimed: "When formerly I saw the Buddhas of old, there was the sign

of an earthquake as now; the virtues of a Muni are so great in majesty,

that the great earth cannot endure them; as step by step his foot treads

upon the ground, so is there heard the sound of the rumbling

earth-shaking; a brilliant light now illumes the world, as the shining

of the rising sun; five hundred bluish-tinted birds I see, wheeling

round to the right, flying through space; a gentle, soft, and cooling

breeze blows around in an agreeable way; all these auspicious signs are

the same as those of former Buddhas; wherefore I know that this

Bodhisattva will certainly arrive at perfect wisdom. And now, behold!

from yonder man, a grass cutter, he obtains some pure and pliant grass,

which spreading out beneath the tree, with upright body, there he takes

his seat; his feet placed under him, not carelessly arranged, moving to

and fro, but like the firmly fixed and compact body of a Nâga; nor shall

he rise again from off his seat till he has completed his undertaking."

And so he (the Nâga) uttered these words by way of confirmation. The

heavenly Nâgas, filled with joy, caused a cool refreshing breeze to

rise; the trees and grass were yet unmoved by it, and all the beasts,

quiet and silent, looked on in wonderment.

These are the signs that Bodhisattva will certainly attain

enlightenment.

Defeats Mara

The great Rishi, of the royal tribe of Rishis, beneath the Bodhi tree

firmly established, resolved by oath to perfect the way of complete

deliverance.

The spirits, Nâgas, and the heavenly multitude, all were filled with

joy; but Mâra Devarâga, enemy of religion, alone was grieved, and

rejoiced not; lord of the five desires, skilled in all the arts of

warfare, the foe of those who seek deliverance, therefore his name is

rightly given Pisuna. Now this Mâra râga had three daughters, mincingly

beautiful and of a pleasant countenance, in every way fit by artful ways

to inflame a man with love, highest in this respect among the Devis. The

first was named Yuh-yen, the second Neng-yueh-gin, the third Ngai-loh.

These three, at this time, advanced together, and addressed their father

Pisuna and said: "May we not know the trouble that afflicts you?"

The father, calming his feelings, addressed his daughters thus: "The

world has now a great Muni, he has taken a strong oath as a helmet, he

holds a mighty bow in his hand, wisdom is the diamond shaft he uses. His

object is to get the mastery in the world, to ruin and destroy my

territory; I am myself unequal to him, for all men will believe in him,

and all find refuge in the way of his salvation; then will my land be

desert and unoccupied. But as when a man transgresses the laws of

morality, his body is then empty. So now, the eye of wisdom, not yet

opened in this man, whilst my empire still has peace, I will go and

overturn his purpose, and break down and divide the ridge-pole of his

house."

Seizing then his bow and his five arrows, with all his retinue of male

and female attendants, he went to that grove of "fortunate rest" with

the vow that the world should not find peace. Then seeing the Muni,

quiet and still, preparing to cross the sea of the three worlds, in his

left hand grasping his bow, with his right hand pointing his arrow, he

addressed Bodhisattva and said: "Kshatriya! rise up quickly! for you may

well fear! your death is at hand; you may practise your own religious

system, but let go this effort after the law of deliverance for others;

wage warfare in the field of charity as a cause of merit, appease the

tumultuous world, and so in the end reach your reward in heaven. This is

a way renowned and well established, in which former saints have walked,

Rishis and kings and men of eminence; but this system of penury and

alms-begging is unworthy of you. Now then if you rise not, you had best

consider with yourself, that if you give not up your vow, and tempt me

to let fly an arrow, how that Aila, grandchild of Soma, by one of these

arrows just touched, as by a fanning of the wind, lost his reason and

became a madman. And how the Rishi Vimala, practising austerities,

hearing the sound of one of these darts, his heart possessed by great

fear, bewildered and darkened he lost his true nature; how much less can

you--a late-born one--hope to escape this dart of mine. Quickly arise

then! if hardly you may get away! This arrow full of rankling poison,

fearfully insidious where it strikes a foe! See now! with all my force,

I point it! and are you resting in the face of such calamity? How is it

that you fear not this dread arrow? say! why do you not tremble?" Mâra

uttered such fear-inspiring threats, bent on overawing Bodhisattva. But

Bodhisattva's heart remained unmoved; no doubt, no fear was present.

Then Mâra instantly discharged his arrow, whilst the three women came in

front. Bodhisattva regarded not the arrow, nor considered aught the

women three. Mâra râga now was troubled much with doubt, and muttered

thus 'twixt heart and mouth: "Long since the maiden of the snowy

mountains, shooting at Mahesvara, constrained him to change his mind;

and yet Bodhisattva is unmoved, and heeds not even this dart of mine,

nor the three heavenly women! nought prevails to move his heart or raise

one spark of love within him. Now must I assemble my army-host, and

press him sore by force;" having thought thus awhile, Mâra's army

suddenly assembled round. Each assumed his own peculiar form; some were

holding spears, others grasping swords, others snatching up trees,

others wielding diamond maces; armed with every sort of weapon. Some had

heads like hogs, others like fishes, others like asses, others like

horses; some with forms like snakes or like the ox or savage tiger;

lion-headed, dragon-headed, and like every other kind of beast. Some had

many heads on one body-trunk, with faces having but a single eye, and

then again with many eyes; some with great-bellied mighty bodies. And

others thin and skinny, belly-less; others long-legged, mighty-kneed;

others big-shanked and fat-calved; some with long and claw-like nails.

Some were headless, breastless, faceless; some with two feet and many

bodies; some with big faces looking every way; some pale and

ashy-colored; others colored like the bright star rising, others

steaming fiery vapor, some with ears like elephants, with humps like

mountains, some with naked forms covered with hair. Some with leather

skins for clothing, their faces parti-colored, crimson, and white; some

with tiger skins as robes, some with snake skins over them, some with

tinkling bells around their waists, others with twisted screw-like hair,

others with hair dishevelled covering the body, some breath-suckers,

others body-snatchers, some dancing and shrieking awhile, some jumping

onwards with their feet together, some striking one another as they

went. Others waving in the air, others flying and leaping between the

trees, others howling, or hooting, or screaming, or whining, with their

evil noises shaking the great earth; thus this wicked goblin troop

encircled on its four sides the Bodhi tree; some bent on tearing his

body to pieces, others on devouring it whole; from the four sides flames

belched forth, and fiery steam ascended up to heaven; tempestuous winds

arose on every side; the mountain forests shook and quaked. Wind, fire,

and steam, with dust combined, produced a pitchy darkness, rendering all

invisible. And now the Devas well affected to the law, and all the Nâgas

and the spirits, all incensed at this host of Mâra, with anger fired,

wept tears of blood; the great company of Suddhavâsa gods, beholding

Mâra tempting Bodhisattva, free from low-feeling, with hearts

undisturbed by passion, moved by pity towards him and commiseration,

came in a body to behold the Bodhisattva, so calmly seated and so

undisturbed, surrounded with an uncounted host of devils, shaking the

heaven and earth with sounds ill-omened. Bodhisattva silent and quiet in

the midst remained, his countenance as bright as heretofore, unchanged;

like the great lion-king placed amongst all the beasts howling and

growling round him so he sat, a sight unseen before, so strange and

wonderful! The host of Mâra hastening, as arranged, each one exerting

his utmost force, taking each other's place in turns, threatening every

moment to destroy him. Fiercely staring, grinning with their teeth,

flying tumultuously, bounding here and there; but Bodhisattva, silently

beholding them, watched them as one would watch the games of children.

And now the demon host waxed fiercer and more angry, and added force to

force, in further conflict; grasping at stones they could not lift, or

lifting them, they could not let them go. Their flying spears, lances,

and javelins, stuck fast in space, refusing to descend; the angry

thunderdrops and mighty hail, with these, were changed into five-colored

lotus flowers, whilst the foul poison of the dragon snakes was turned to

spicy-breathing air. Thus all these countless sorts of creatures,

wishing to destroy the Bodhisattva, unable to remove him from the spot,

were with their own weapons wounded. Now Mâra had an aunt-attendant

whose name was Ma-kia-ka-li, who held a skull-dish in her hands, and

stood in front of Bodhisattva, and with every kind of winsome gesture,

tempted to lust the Bodhisattva. So all these followers of Mâra,

possessed of every demon-body form, united in discordant uproar, hoping

to terrify Bodhisattva; but not a hair of his was moved, and Mâra's host

was filled with sorrow. Then in the air the crowd of angels, their forms

invisible, raised their voices, saying: "Behold the great Muni; his mind

unmoved by any feeling of resentment, whilst all that wicked Mâra race,

besotted, are vainly bent on his destruction; let go your foul and

murderous thoughts against that silent Muni, calmly seated! You cannot

with a breath move the Sumeru mountain. Fire may freeze, water may burn,

the roughened earth may grow soft and pliant, but ye cannot hurt the

Bodhisattva! Through ages past disciplined by suffering. Bodhisattva

rightly trained in thought, ever advancing in the use of 'means,' pure

and illustrious for wisdom, loving and merciful to all. These four

conspicuous virtues cannot with him be rent asunder, so as to make it

hard or doubtful whether he gain the highest wisdom. For as the thousand

rays of yonder sun must drown the darkness of the world, or as the

boring wood must kindle fire, or as the earth deep-dug gives water, so

he who perseveres in the 'right means,' by seeking thus, will find. The

world without instruction, poisoned by lust and hate and ignorance;

because he pitied 'flesh,' so circumstanced, he sought on their account

the joy of wisdom. Why then would you molest and hinder one who seeks to

banish sorrow from the world? The ignorance that everywhere prevails is

due to false pernicious books, and therefore Bodhisattva, walking

uprightly, would lead and draw men after him. To obscure and blind the

great world-leader, this undertaking is impossible, for 'tis as though

in the Great Desert a man would purposely mislead the merchant-guide. So

'all flesh' having fallen into darkness, ignorant of where they are

going, for their sakes he would light the lamp of wisdom; say then! why

would you extinguish it? All flesh engulfed and overwhelmed in the great

sea of birth and death, this one prepares the boat of wisdom; say then!

why destroy and sink it? Patience is the sprouting of religion, firmness

its root, good conduct is the flower, the enlightened heart the boughs

and branches. Wisdom supreme the entire tree, the 'transcendent law' the

fruit, its shade protects all living things; say then! why would you cut

it down? Lust, hate, and ignorance, are the rack and bolt, the yoke

placed on the shoulder of the world; through ages long he has practised

austerities to rescue men from these their fetters. He now shall

certainly attain his end, sitting on this right-established throne; as

all the previous Buddhas, firm and compact like a diamond. Though all

the earth were moved and shaken, yet would this place be fixed and

stable; him, thus fixed and well assured, think not that you can

overturn. Bring down and moderate your mind's desire, banish these high

and envious thoughts, prepare yourselves for right reflection, be

patient in your services."

Mâra hearing these sounds in space, and seeing Bodhisattva still

unmoved, filled with fear and banishing his high and supercilious

thoughts, again took up his way to heaven above. Whilst all his host

were scattered, o'erwhelmed with grief and disappointment, fallen from

their high estate, bereft of their warrior pride, their warlike weapons

and accoutrements thrown heedlessly and cast away 'mid woods and

deserts. Like as when some cruel chieftain slain, the hateful band is

all dispersed and scattered, so the host of Mara disconcerted, fled

away. The mind of Bodhisattva now reposed peaceful and quiet. The

morning sunbeams brighten with the dawn, the dust-like mist dispersing,

disappears; the moon and stars pale their faint light, the barriers of

the night are all removed, whilst from above a fall of heavenly flowers

pay their sweet tribute to the Bodhisattva.

O-wei-san-pou-ti (Abhisambodhi)

Bodhisattva having subdued Mâra, his firmly fixed mind at rest,

thoroughly exhausting the first principle of truth, he entered into deep

and subtle contemplation. Every kind of Sâmadhi in order passed before

his eyes. During the first watch he entered on "right perception" and in

recollection all former births passed before his eyes. Born in such a

place, of such a name, and downwards to his present birth, so through

hundreds, thousands, myriads, all his births and deaths he knew.

Countless in number were they, of every kind and sort; then knowing,

too, his family relationships, great pity rose within his heart.

This sense of deep compassion passed, he once again considered "all that

lives," and how they moved within the six portions of life's revolution,

no final term to birth and death; hollow all, and false and transient as

the plantain tree, or as a dream, or phantasy. Then in the middle watch

of night, he reached to knowledge of the pure Devas, and beheld before

him every creature, as one sees images upon a mirror; all creatures born

and born again to die, noble and mean, the poor and rich, reaping the

fruit of right or evil doing, and sharing happiness or misery in

consequence. First he considered and distinguished evil-doers' works,

that such must ever reap an evil birth. Then he considered those who

practise righteous deeds, that these must gain a place with men or gods;

but those again born in the nether hells, he saw participating in every

kind of misery; swallowing molten brass, the iron skewers piercing their

bodies, confined within the boiling caldron, driven and made to enter

the fiery oven dwelling, food for hungry, long-toothed dogs, or preyed

upon by brain-devouring birds; dismayed by fire, then they wander

through thick woods, with leaves like razors gashing their limbs, while

knives divide their writhing bodies, or hatchets lop their members, bit

by bit; drinking the bitterest poisons, their fate yet holds them back

from death. Thus those who found their joy in evil deeds, he saw

receiving now their direst sorrow; a momentary taste of pleasure here, a

dreary length of suffering there. A laugh or joke because of others'

pain, a crying out and weeping now at punishment received. Surely if

living creatures saw the consequence of all their evil deeds,

self-visited, with hatred would they turn and leave them, fearing the

ruin following--the blood and death. He saw, moreover, all the fruits of

birth as beasts, each deed entailing its own return; and when death

ensues born in some other form (beast shape), different in kind

according to the deeds. Some doomed to die for the sake of skin or

flesh, some for their horns or hair or bones or wings; others torn or

killed in mutual conflict, friend or relative before, contending thus;

some burdened with loads or dragging heavy weights, others pierced and

urged on by pricking goads. Blood flowing down their tortured forms,

parched and hungry--no relief afforded; then, turning round, he saw one

with the other struggling, possessed of no independent strength. Flying

through air or sunk in deep water, yet no place as a refuge left from

death. He saw, moreover, those, misers and covetous, born now as hungry

ghosts; vast bodies like the towering mountain, with mouths as small as

any needle-tube, hungry and thirsty, nought but fire and poisoned flame

to enwrap their burning forms within. Covetous, they would not give to

those who sought, or duped the man who gave in charity, now born among

the famished ghosts, they seek for food, but cannot find withal. The

refuse of the unclean man they fain would eat, but this is changed and

lost before it can be eaten. Oh! if a man believes that covetousness is

thus repaid, as in their case, would he not give his very flesh in

charity even as Sivi râga did! Then, once more he saw, those reborn as

men, with bodies like some foul sewer, ever moving 'midst the direst

sufferings, born from the womb to fear and trembling, with body tender,

touching anything its feelings painful, as if cut with knives. Whilst

born in this condition, no moment free from chance of death, labor, and

sorrow, yet seeking birth again, and being born again, enduring pain.

Then he saw those who by a higher merit were enjoying heaven; a thirst

for love ever consuming them, their merit ended with the end of life,

the five signs warning them of death. Just as the blossom that decays,

withering away, is robbed of all its shining tints; not all their

associates, living still, though grieving, can avail to save the rest.

The palaces and joyous precincts empty now, the Devis all alone and

desolate, sitting or asleep upon the dusty earth, weep bitterly in

recollection of their loves. Those who are born, sad in decay; those who

are dead, belovéd, cause of grief; thus ever struggling on, preparing

future pain, covetous they seek the joys of heaven, obtaining which,

these sorrows come apace; despicable joys! oh, who would covet them!

using such mighty efforts to obtain, and yet unable thence to banish

pain. Alas, alas! these Devas, too, alike deceived--no difference is

there! through lapse of ages bearing suffering, striving to crush desire

and lust, now certainly expecting long reprieve, and yet once more

destined to fall! in hell enduring every kind of pain, as beasts tearing

and killing one the other, as Pretas parched with direst thirst, as men

worn out, seeking enjoyment; although, they say, when born in heaven,

"then we shall escape these greater ills." Deceived, alas! no single

place exempt, in every birth incessant pain! Alas! the sea of birth and

death revolving thus--an ever-whirling wheel--all flesh immersed within

its waves cast here and there without reliance! thus with his pure Deva

eyes he thoughtfully considered the five domains of life. He saw that

all was empty and vain alike! with no dependence! like the plantain or

the bubble. Then, on the third eventful watch, he entered on the deep,

true apprehension; he meditated on the entire world of creatures,

whirling in life's tangle, born to sorrow; the crowds who live, grow

old, and die, innumerable for multitude. Covetous, lustful, ignorant,

darkly-fettered, with no way known for final rescue. Rightly

considering, inwardly he reflected from what source birth and death

proceed. He was assured that age and death must come from birth as from

a source. For since a man has born with him a body, that body must

inherit pain. Then looking further whence comes birth, he saw it came

from life-deeds done elsewhere; then with his Deva-eyes scanning these

deeds, he saw they were not framed by Isvara. They were not self-caused,

they were not personal existences, nor were they either uncaused; then,

as one who breaks the first bamboo joint finds all the rest easy to

separate, having discerned the cause of birth and death, he gradually

came to see the truth; deeds come from upâdâna, like as fire which

catches hold of grass; upâdâna comes from trishnâ, just as a little fire

inflames the mountains; trishnâ comes from vedanâ, the perception of

pain and pleasure, the desire for rest; as the starving or the thirsty

man seeks food and drink, so "sensation" brings "desire" for life; then

contact is the cause of all sensation, producing the three kinds of pain

or pleasure, even as by art of man the rubbing wood produces fire for

any use or purpose; contact is born from the six entrances.[103] The six

entrances are caused by name and thing, just as the germ grows to the

stem and leaf; name and thing are born from knowledge, as the seed which

germinates and brings forth leaves. Knowledge, in turn, proceeds from

name and thing, the two are intervolved leaving no remnant; by some

concurrent cause knowledge engenders name and thing, whilst by some

other cause concurrent, name and thing engender knowledge. Just as a man

and ship advance together, the water and the land mutually involved;

thus knowledge brings forth name and thing; name and thing produce the

roots. The roots engender contact; contact again brings forth sensation;

sensation brings forth longing desire; longing desire produces upâdâna.

Upâdâna is the cause of deeds; and these again engender birth; birth

again produces age and death; so does this one incessant round cause the

existence of all living things. Rightly illumined, thoroughly perceiving

this, firmly established, thus was he enlightened; destroy birth, old

age and death will cease; destroy bhava then will birth cease; destroy

"cleaving" then will bhava end; destroy desire then will cleaving end;

destroy sensation then will trishnâ end. Destroy contact then will end

sensation; destroy the six entrances, then will contact cease; the six

entrances all destroyed, from this, moreover, names and things will

cease. Knowledge destroyed, names and things will cease; names and

things destroyed, then knowledge perishes; ignorance destroyed, then the

constituents of individual life will die; the great Rishi was thus

perfected in wisdom. Thus perfected, Buddha then devised for the world's

benefit the eightfold path, right sight, and so on, the only true path

for the world to tread. Thus did he complete the end of "self," as fire

goes out for want of grass; thus he had done what he would have men do;

he first had found the way of perfect knowledge. He finished thus the

first great lesson; entering the great Rishi's house (dreamless sleep),

the darkness disappeared; light coming on, perfectly silent, all at

rest, he reached at last the exhaustless source of truth; lustrous with

all wisdom the great Rishi sat, perfect in gifts, whilst one convulsive

throe shook the wide earth. And now the world was calm again and bright,

when Devas, Nâgas, spirits, all assembled, amidst the void raise

heavenly music, and make their offerings as the law directs. A gentle

cooling breeze sprang up around, and from the sky a fragrant rain

distilled; exquisite flowers, not seasonable, bloomed; sweet fruits

before their time were ripened. Great Mandâras, and every sort of

heavenly precious flower, from space in rich confusion fell, as tribute

to the illustrious monk. Creatures of every different kind were moved

one towards the other lovingly; fear and terror altogether put away,

none entertained a hateful thought, and all things living in the world

with faultless men consorted freely; the Devas giving up their heavenly

joys, sought rather to alleviate the sinner's sufferings. Pain and

distress grew less and less, the moon of wisdom waxed apace; whilst all

the Rishis of the Ikshvâku clan who had received a heavenly birth,

beholding Buddha thus benefitting men, were filled with joy and

satisfaction; and whilst throughout the heavenly mansions religious

offerings fell as raining flowers, the Devas and the Nâga spirits, with

one voice, praised the Buddha's virtues; men seeing the religious

offerings, hearing, too, the joyous hymn of praise, were all rejoiced in

turn; they leapt for unrestrained joy; Mâra, the Devarâga, only, felt in

his heart great anguish. Buddha for those seven days, in contemplation

lost, his heart at peace, beheld and pondered on the Bodhi tree, with

gaze unmoved and never wearying:--"Now resting here, in this condition,

I have obtained," he said, "my ever-shifting heart's desire, and now at

rest I stand, escaped from self." The eyes of Buddha then considered

"all that lives," and forthwith rose there in him deep compassion; much

he desired to bring about their welfare, but how to gain for them that

most excellent deliverance, from covetous desire, hatred, ignorance, and

false teaching, this was the question; how to suppress this sinful heart

by right direction; not by anxious use of outward means, but by resting

quietly in thoughtful silence. Now looking back and thinking of his

mighty vow, there rose once more within his mind a wish to preach the

law; and looking carefully throughout the world, he saw how pain and

sorrow ripened and increased everywhere. Then Brahma-deva knowing his

thoughts, and considering it right to request him to advance religion

for the wider spread of the Brahma-glory, in the deliverance of all

flesh from sorrow, coming, beheld upon the person of the reverend monk

all the distinguishing marks of a great preacher, visible in an

excellent degree; fixed and unmoved he sat in the possession of truth

and wisdom, free from all evil impediments, with a heart cleansed from

all insincerity or falsehood. Then with reverent and a joyful heart,

great Brahma stood and with hands joined, thus made known his

request:--"What happiness in all the world so great as when a loving

master meets the unwise; the world with all its occupants, filled with

impurity and dire confusion, with heavy grief oppressed, or, in some

cases, lighter sorrows, waits deliverance; the lord of men, having

escaped by crossing the wide and mournful sea of birth and death, we now

entreat to rescue others--those struggling creatures all engulfed

therein; as the just worldly man, when he gets profit, gives some rebate

withal. So the lord of men enjoying such religious gain, should also

give somewhat to living things. The world indeed is bent on large

personal gain, and hard it is to share one's own with others. O! let

your loving heart be moved with pity towards the world burdened with

vexing cares." Thus having spoken by way of exhortation, with reverent

mien he turned back to the Brahma heaven. Buddha, regarding the

invitation of Brahma-deva, rejoiced at heart, and his design was

strengthened; greatly was his heart of pity nourished, and purposed was

his mind to preach. Thinking he ought to beg some food, each of the four

kings offered him a Pâtra; Tathâgata, in fealty to religion, received

the four and joined them all in one. And now some merchant men were

passing by, to whom "a virtuous friend," a heavenly spirit, said: "The

great Rishi, the venerable monk, is dwelling in this mountain-grove,

affording in the world a noble field for merit; go then and offer him a

sacrifice!" Hearing the summons, joyfully they went, and offered the

first meal religiously. Having partaken of it, then he deeply pondered,

who first should hear the law; he thought at once of Ârâda Kâlâma and

Udraka Râmaputra, as being fit to accept the righteous law; but now they

both were dead. Then next he thought of the five men, that they were fit

to hear the first sermon. Bent then on this design to preach Nirvâna, as

the sun's glory bursts through the darkness, so went he on towards

Benares, the place where dwelt the ancient Rishis. With eyes as gentle

as the ox king's, his pace as firm and even as the lion's, because he

would convert the world he went on towards the Kâsi city. Step by step,

like the king of beasts, did he advance watchfully through the grove of

wisdom.

Turning the Law-wheel

Tathâgata piously composed and silent, radiant with glory, shedding

light around, with unmatched dignity advanced alone, as if surrounded by

a crowd of followers. Beside the way he encountered a young Brahman

whose name was Upâka; struck with the deportment of the Bhikshu, he

stood with reverent mien on the roadside. Joyously he gazed at such an

unprecedented sight, and then, with closed hands, he spake as

follows:--"The crowds who live around are stained with sin, without a

pleasing feature, void of grace, and the great world's heart is

everywhere disturbed; but you alone, your senses all composed, with

visage shining as the moon when full, seem to have quaffed the water of

the immortals' stream. The marks of beauty yours, as the great man's,

the strength of wisdom, as an all-sufficient, independent king's; what

you have done must have been wisely done: what then your noble tribe and

who your master?" Answering he said, "I have no master; no honorable

tribe; no point of excellence; self-taught in this profoundest doctrine,

I have arrived at superhuman wisdom. That which behooves the world to

learn, but through the world no learner found, I now myself and by

myself have learned throughout; 'tis rightly called Sambodhi. That

hateful family of griefs the sword of wisdom has destroyed; this then is

what the world has named, and rightly named, the 'chiefest victory.'

Through all Benares soon will sound the drum of life, no stay is

possible--I have no name--nor do I seek profit or pleasure. But simply

to declare the truth; to save men from pain, and to fulfil my ancient

oath, to rescue all not yet delivered. The fruit of this my oath is

ripened now, and I will follow out my ancient vow. Wealth, riches, self

all given up, unnamed, I still am named 'Righteous Master.' And bringing

profit to the world, I also have the name 'Great Teacher'; facing

sorrows, not swallowed up by them, am I not rightly called 'Courageous

Warrior?' If not a healer of diseases, what means the name of 'Good

Physician?' Seeing the wanderer, not showing him the way, why then

should I be called 'Good Master-guide?' Like as the lamp shines in the

dark, without a purpose of its own, self-radiant, so burns the lamp of

the Tathâgata, without the shadow of a personal feeling. Bore wood in

wood, there must be fire; the wind blows of its own free self in space;

dig deep and you will come to water; this is the rule of self-causation.

All the Munis who perfect wisdom, must do so at Gayâ; and in the Kâsi

country they must first turn the Wheel of Righteousness." The young

Brahman Upâka, astonished, breathed the praise of such strange doctrine,

and called to mind like thoughts he had before experienced; lost in

thought at the wonderful occurrence, at every turning of the road he

stopped to think; embarrassed in every step he took, Tathâgata

proceeding slowly onwards, came to the city of Kâsi. The land so

excellently adorned as the palace of Sakradevendra; the Ganges and

Baranâ, two twin rivers flowed amidst; the woods and flowers and fruits

so verdant, the peaceful cattle wandering together, the calm retreats

free from vulgar noise, such was the place where the old Rishis dwelt.

Tathâgata, glorious and radiant, redoubled the brightness of the place;

the son of the Kaundinya tribe, and next Dasabalakâsyapa, and the third

Vâshpa, the fourth Asvagit, the fifth called Bhadra, practising

austerities as hermits, seeing from far Tathâgata approaching, sitting

together all engaged in conversation, said: "This Gautama, defiled by

worldly indulgence, leaving the practice of austerities, now comes again

to find us here, let us be careful not to rise in salutation, nor let us

greet him when he comes, nor offer him the customary refreshments.

Because he has broken his first vow, he has no claim to

hospitality"--for men on seeing an approaching guest by rights prepare

things for his present and his after wants. They arrange a proper

resting-couch, and take on themselves care for his comfort. Having

spoken thus and so agreed, each kept his seat, resolved and fixed. And

now Tathâgata slowly approached, when, lo! these men unconsciously,

against their vow, rose and invited him to take a seat; offering to take

his robe and Pâtra. They begged to wash and rub his feet, and asked him

what he required more; thus in everything attentive, they honored him

and offered all to him as teacher. They did not cease however to address

him still as Gautama, after his family. Then spake the Lord to them and

said: "Call me not after my private name, for it is a rude and careless

way of speaking to one who has obtained Arhat-ship; but whether men

respect or disrespect me, my mind is undisturbed and wholly quiet. But

you--your way is not so courteous: let go, I pray, and cast away your

fault. Buddha can save the world; they call him, therefore, Buddha.

Towards all living things, with equal heart he looks as children, to

call him then by his familiar name is to despise a father; this is sin."

Thus Buddha, by exercise of mighty love, in deep compassion spoke to

them; but they, from ignorance and pride, despised the only wise and

true one's words. They said that first he practised self-denial, but

having reached thereby no profit, now giving rein to body, word, and

thought, how by these means, they asked, has he become a Buddha? Thus

equally entangled by doubts, they would not credit that he had attained

the way. Thoroughly versed in highest truth, full of all-embracing

wisdom, Tagâgata on their account briefly declared to them the one true

way; the foolish masters practising austerities, and those who love to

gratify their senses, he pointed out to them these two distinctive

classes, and how both greatly erred. "Neither of these," he said, "has

found the way of highest wisdom, nor are their ways of life productive

of true rescue. The emaciated devotee by suffering produces in himself

confused and sickly thoughts, not conducive even to worldly knowledge,

how much less to triumph over sense! For he who tries to light a lamp

with water, will not succeed in scattering the darkness, and so the man

who tries with worn-out body to trim the lamp of wisdom shall not

succeed, nor yet destroy his ignorance or folly. Who seeks with rotten

wood to evoke the fire will waste his labor and get nothing for it; but

boring hard wood into hard, the man of skill forthwith gets fire for his

use. In seeking wisdom then it is not by these austerities a man may

reach the law of life. But to indulge in pleasure is opposed to right:

this is the fool's barrier against wisdom's light. The sensualist cannot

comprehend the Sûtras or the Sâstras, how much less the way of

overcoming all desire! As some man grievously afflicted eats food not

fit to eat, and so in ignorance aggravates his sickness, so can he get

rid of lust who pampers lust? Scatter the fire amid the desert grass,

dried by the sun, fanned by the wind--the raging flames who shall

extinguish? Such is the fire of covetousness and lust. I, then, reject

both these extremes: my heart keeps in the middle way. All sorrow at an

end and finished, I rest at peace, all error put away; my true sight

greater than the glory of the sun, my equal and unvarying wisdom,

vehicle of insight--right words as it were a dwelling-place--wandering

through the pleasant groves of right conduct, making a right life my

recreation, walking along the right road of proper means, my city of

refuge in right recollection, and my sleeping couch right meditation;

these are the eight even and level roads by which to avoid the sorrows

of birth and death. Those who come forth by these means from the slough,

doing thus, have attained the end; such shall fall neither on this side

or the other, amidst the sorrow-crowd of the two periods. The tangled

sorrow-web of the three worlds by this road alone can be destroyed; this

is my own way, unheard of before; by the pure eyes of the true law,

impartially seeing the way of escape, I, only I, now first make known

this way; thus I destroy the hateful company of Trishnâ's host, the

sorrows of birth and death, old age, disease, and all the unfruitful

aims of men, and other springs of suffering. There are those who warring

against desire are still influenced by desire; who whilst possessed of

body, act as though they had none; who put away from themselves all

sources of true merit--briefly will I recount their sorrowful lot. Like

smothering a raging fire, though carefully put out, yet a spark left, so

in their abstraction, still the germ of 'I,' the source of great sorrow

still surviving, perpetuates the suffering caused by lust, and the evil

consequences of every kind of deed survive. These are the sources of

further pain, but let these go and sorrow dies, even as the seed of corn

taken from the earth and deprived of water dies; the concurrent causes

not uniting, then the bud and leaf cannot be born; the intricate bonds

of every kind of existence, from the Deva down to the evil ways of

birth, ever revolve and never cease; all this is produced from covetous

desire; falling from a high estate to lower ones, all is the fault of

previous deeds. But destroy the seed of covetousness and the rest, then

there will be no intricate binding, but all effect of deeds destroyed,

the various degrees of sorrow then will end for good. Having this, then,

we must inherit that; destroying this, then that is ended too; no birth,

old age, disease, or death; no earth, or water, fire, or wind. No

beginning, end, or middle; and no deceptive systems of philosophy; this

is the standpoint of wise men and sages; the certain and exhausted

termination, complete Nirvâna. Such do the eight right ways declare;

this one expedient has no remains; that which the world sees not,

engrossed by error I declare, I know the way to sever all these

sorrow-sources; the way to end them is by right reason, meditating on

these four highest truths, following and perfecting this highest wisdom.

This is what means the 'knowing' sorrow; this is to cut off the cause of

all remains of being; these destroyed, then all striving, too, has

ended, the eight right ways have been assayed.

"Thus, too, the four great truths have been acquired, the eyes of the

pure law completed. In these four truths, the equal, true or right, eyes

not yet born, there is not mention made of gaining true deliverance; it

is not said what must be done is done, nor that all is finished, nor

that the perfect truth has been acquired. But now because the truth is

known, then by myself is known 'deliverance gained,' by myself is known

that 'all is done,' by myself is known 'the highest wisdom.'" And having

spoken thus respecting truth, the member of the Kaundinya family, and

eighty thousand of the Deva host, were thoroughly imbued with saving

knowledge. They put away defilement from themselves, they got the eyes

of the pure law; Devas and earthly masters thus were sure, that what was

to be done was done. And now with lion-voice he joyfully inquired, and

asked Kaundinya, "Knowest thou yet?" Kaundinya forthwith answered

Buddha, "I know the mighty master's law." And for this reason, knowing

it, his name was Âgnâta Kaundinya. Amongst all the disciples of Buddha,

he was the very first in understanding. Then as he understood the sounds

of the true law, hearing the words of the disciple--all the earth

spirits together raised a shout triumphant, "Well done! deeply seeing

the principles of the law, Tathâgata, on this auspicious day, has set

revolving that which never yet revolved, and far and wide, for gods and

men, has opened the gates of immortality. Of this wheel the spokes are

the rules of pure conduct; equal contemplation, their uniformity of

length; firm wisdom is the tire; modesty and thoughtfulness, the rubbers

(sockets in the nave in which the axle is fixed); right reflection is

the nave; the wheel itself the law of perfect truth; the right truth now

has gone forth in the world, not to retire before another teacher."

Thus the earth spirits shouted, the spirits of the air took up the

strain, the Devas all joined in the hymn of praise, up to the highest

Brahma heaven. The Devas of the triple world, now hearing what the great

Rishi taught, in intercourse together spoke, "The widely honored Buddha

moves the world! Widespread, for the sake of all that lives, he turns

the wheel of the law of complete purity!" The stormy winds, the clouds,

the mists, all disappeared; down from space the heavenly flowers

descended. The Devas revelled in their joys celestial, filled with

unutterable gladness.

[Footnote 99: The distance from the place of the interview with the

ministers to the Vulture Peak would be, in a straight line, about 150

miles.]

[Footnote 100: The sense of the text and context appears to be this,

that as there are those who drink the rain-clouds and yet are parched

with thirst, so there are those who constantly practise religious duties

and yet are still unblest.]

[Footnote 101: The dhyânas are the conditions of ecstasy, enjoyed by the

inhabitants of the Brahmaloka heavens.]

[Footnote 102: The "fortunate tree," the tree "of good omen," the Bodhi

tree.]

[Footnote 103: The six organs of sense.]

CHAPTER IV

Bimbisâra Râga Becomes a Disciple

And now those five men, Asvagit Vâshpa, and the others, having heard

that he (Kaundinya) "knew" the law, with humble mien and self-subdued,

their hands joined, offered their homage, and looked with reverence in

the teacher's face. Tathâgata, by wise expedient, caused them one by one

to embrace the law. And so from first to last the five Bhikshus obtained

reason and subdued their senses, like the five stars which shine in

heaven, waiting upon the brightening moon. At this time in the town of

Ku-i there was a noble's son called Yasas; lost in night-sleep suddenly

he woke, and when he saw his attendants all, men and women, with

ill-clad bodies, sleeping, his heart was filled with loathing;

reflecting on the root of sorrow, he thought how madly foolish men were

immersed in it. Clothing himself, and putting on his jewels, he left his

home and wandered forth; then on the way he stood and cried aloud,

"Alas! alas! what endless chain of sorrows." Tathâgata, by night, was

walking forth, and hearing sounds like these, "Alas! what sorrow,"

forthwith replied, "You are welcome! here, on the other hand, there is a

place of rest--the most excellent, refreshing, Nirvâna, quiet and

unmoved, free from sorrow." Yasas hearing Buddha's exhortation, there

rose much joy within his heart. And in the place of the disgust he felt,

the cooling streams of holy wisdom found their way, as when one enters

first a cold pellucid lake. Advancing then, he came where Buddha

was--his person decked with common ornaments, his mind already freed

from all defects; by power of the good root obtained in other births, he

quickly reached the fruit of an Arhat. The secret light of pure wisdom's

virtue enabled him to understand, on listening to the law; just as a

pure silken fabric with ease is dyed a different color. Thus having

attained to self-illumination, and done that which was to be done, he

was converted; then looking at his person richly ornamented, his heart

was filled with shame. Tathâgata knowing his inward thoughts, in gâthas

spoke the following words: "Though ornamented with jewels, the heart may

yet have conquered sense; looking with equal mind on all that lives, in

such a case the outward form does not affect religion; the body, too,

may wear the ascetic's garb, the heart, meanwhile, be immersed in

worldly thoughts; dwelling in lonely woods, yet covetous of worldly

show, such men are after all mere worldlings; the body may have a

worldly guise, the heart mount high to things celestial. The layman and

the hermit are the same, when only both have banished thought of 'self,'

but if the heart be twined with carnal bonds, what use the marks of

bodily attention? He who wears martial decorations, does so because by

valor he has triumphed o'er an enemy--so he who wears the hermit's

colored robe, does so for having vanquished sorrow as his foe." Then he

bade him come, and be a member of his church; and at the bidding, lo!

his garments changed! and he stood wholly attired in hermit's dress,

complete; in heart and outward look, a Sramana. Now Yasas had in former

days some light companions, in number fifty and four; when these beheld

their friend a hermit, they, too, one by one, attained true wisdom. By

virtue of deeds done in former births, these deeds now bore their

perfect fruit. Just as when burning ashes are sprinkled by water, the

water being dried, the flame bursts forth. So now, with those above, the

disciples were altogether sixty, all Arhats; entirely obedient and

instructed in the law of perfect discipleship. So perfected he taught

them further:--"Now ye have passed the stream and reached 'the other

shore,' across the sea of birth and death; what should be done, ye now

have done! and ye may now receive the charity of others. Go then through

every country, convert those not yet converted; throughout the world

that lies burnt up with sorrow, teach everywhere; instruct those lacking

right instruction. Go, therefore! each one travelling by himself; filled

with compassion, go! rescue and receive. I too will go alone, back to

yonder Kia-ke mountain; where there are great Rishis, royal Rishis,

Brahman Rishis too, these all dwell there, influencing men according to

their schools. The Rishi Kâsyapa, enduring pain, reverenced by all the

country, making converts too of many, him will I visit and convert."

Then the sixty Bhikshus respectfully receiving orders to preach, each

according to his fore-determined purpose, following his inclination,

went through every land. The honored of the world went on alone, till he

arrived at the Kia-ke mountain, then entering a retired religious dell,

he came to where the Rishi Kâsyapa was. Now this one had a "fire grot"

where he offered sacrifice, where an evil Nâga dwelt, who wandered here

and there in search of rest, through mountains and wild places of the

earth. The honored of the world, wishing to instruct this hermit and

convert him, asked him, on coming, for a place to lodge that night.

Kâsyapa, replying, spake to Buddha thus:--"I have no resting-place to

offer for the night, only this fire grot where I sacrifice; this is a

cool and fit place for the purpose, but an evil dragon dwells there, who

is accustomed, as he can, to poison men." Buddha replied, "Permit me

only, and for the night I'll take my dwelling there." Kâsyapa made many

difficulties, but the world-honored one still asked the favor. Then

Kâsyapa addressed Buddha, "My mind desires no controversy, only I have

my fears and apprehensions, but follow you your own good pleasure."

Buddha forthwith stepped within the fiery grot, and took his seat with

dignity and deep reflection; and now the evil Nâga seeing Buddha,

belched forth in rage his fiery poison, and filled the place with

burning vapor. But this could not affect the form of Buddha. Throughout

the abode the fire consumed itself, the honored of the world still sat

composed: Even as Brahma, in the midst of the kalpa-fire that burns and

reaches to the Brahma heavens, still sits unmoved, without a thought of

fear or apprehension, so Buddha sat; the evil Nâga seeing him, his face

glowing with peace, and still unchanged, ceased his poisonous blast, his

heart appeased; he bent his head and worshipped. Kâsyapa in the night

seeing the fire-glow, sighed:--"Ah! alas! what misery! this most

distinguished man is also burnt up by the fiery Nâga." Then Kâsyapa and

his followers at morning light came one and all to look. Now Buddha

having subdued the evil Nâga, had straightway placed him in his pâtra,

beholding which, and seeing the power of Buddha, Kâsyapa conceived

within him deep and secret thoughts:--"This Gotama," he thought, "is

deeply versed in religion, but still he said, 'I am a master of

religion.'" Then Buddha, as occasion offered, displayed all kinds of

spiritual changes, influencing Kâsyapa's heart-thoughts, changing and

subduing them, making his mind pliant and yielding, until at length

prepared to be a vessel of the true law, he confessed that his poor

wisdom could not compare with the complete wisdom of the world-honored

one. And so, convinced at last, humbly submitting, he accepted right

instruction. Thus U-pi-lo Uravilva Kâsyapa, and five hundred of his

followers following their master, virtuously submissive, in turn

received the teaching of the law. Kâsyapa and all his followers were

thus entirely converted. The Rishi then, taking his goods and all his

sacrificial vessels, threw them together in the river, which floated

down upon the surface of the current. Nadi and Gada, brothers, who dwelt

down the stream, seeing these articles of clothing and the rest floating

along the stream disorderly, said, "Some great change has happened," and

deeply pained, were restlessly concerned. The two, each with five

hundred followers, going up the stream to seek their brother. Seeing him

now dressed as a hermit, and all his followers with him, having got

knowledge of the miraculous law--strange thoughts engaged their

minds--"our brother having submitted thus, we too should also follow

him." Thus the three brothers, with all their band of followers, were

brought to hear the lord's discourse on the comparison of a fire

sacrifice: and in the discourse he taught, "How the dark smoke of

ignorance arises, whilst confused thoughts, like wood drilled into wood,

create the fire. Lust, anger, delusion, these are as fire produced, and

these inflame and burn all living things. Thus the fire of grief and

sorrow, once enkindled, ceases not to burn, ever giving rise to birth

and death; but whilst this fire of sorrow ceases not, yet are there two

kinds of fire, one that burns but has no fuel left. So when the heart of

man has once conceived distaste for sin, this distaste removing covetous

desire, covetous desire extinguished, there is rescue; if once this

rescue has been found, then with it is born sight and knowledge, by

which distinguishing the streams of birth and death, and practising pure

conduct, all is done that should be done, and hereafter shall be no more

life." Thus the thousand Bhikshus hearing the world-honored preach, all

defects forever done away, their minds found perfect and complete

deliverance. Then Buddha for the Kâsyapas' sakes, and for the benefit of

the thousand Bhikshus, having preached, and done all that should be

done, himself with purity and wisdom and all the concourse of high

qualities excellently adorned, he gave them, as in charity, rules for

cleansing sense. The great Rishi, listening to reason, lost all regard

for bodily austerities, and, as a man without a guide, was emptied of

himself, and learned discipleship. And now the honored one and all his

followers go forward to the royal city (Râgagriha), remembering, as he

did, the Magadha king, and what he heretofore had promised. The honored

one when he arrived, remained within the "staff grove"; Bimbisâra Râga

hearing thereof, with all his company of courtiers, lords and ladies all

surrounding him, came to where the master was. Then at a distance seeing

Buddha seated, with humbled heart and subdued presence, putting off his

common ornaments, descending from his chariot, forward he stepped; even

as Sakra, king of gods, going to where Brahmadeva-râga dwells. Bowing

down at Buddha's feet, he asked him, with respect, about his health of

body; Buddha in his turn, having made inquiries, begged him to be seated

on one side. Then the king's mind reflected silently:--"This Sâkya must

have great controlling power, to subject to his will these Kâsyapas who

now are round him as disciples." Buddha, knowing all thoughts, spoke

thus to Kâsyapa, questioning him:--"What profit have you found in giving

up your fire-adoring law?" Kâsyapa hearing Buddha's words, rising with

dignity before the great assembly, bowed lowly down, and then with

clasped hands and a loud voice addressing Buddha, said:--"The profit I

received, adoring the fire spirit, was this--continuance in the wheel of

life, birth and death, with all their sorrows growing--this service I

have therefore cast away. Diligently I persevered in fire-worship,

seeking to put an end to the five desires, in return I found desires

endlessly increasing: therefore have I cast off this service.

Sacrificing thus to fire with many Mantras, I did but miss escape from

birth; receiving birth, with it came all its sorrows, therefore I cast

it off and sought for rest. I was versed, indeed, in self-affliction, my

mode of worship largely adopted, and counted of all most excellent, and

yet I was opposed to highest wisdom. Therefore have I discarded it, and

gone in quest of the supreme Nirvâna. Removing from me birth, old age,

disease, and death, I sought a place of undying rest and calm. And as I

gained the knowledge of this truth, then I cast off the law of

worshipping the fire."

The honored-of-the-world, hearing Kâsyapa declaring his experience of

truth, wishing to move the world throughout to conceive a heart of

purity and faith, addressing Kâsyapa further, said: "Welcome! great

master, welcome! Rightly have you distinguished law from law, and well

obtained the highest wisdom; now before this great assembly, pray you!

exhibit your excellent endowments; as any rich and wealthy noble opens

for view his costly treasures, causing the poor and sorrow-laden

multitude to increase their forgetfulness awhile; and honor well your

lord's instruction." Forthwith in presence of the assembly, gathering up

his body and entering Samâdhi, calmly he ascended into space, and there

displayed himself, walking, standing, sitting, sleeping, emitting fiery

vapor from his body, on his right and left side water and fire, not

burning and not moistening him. Then clouds and rain proceeded from him,

thunder with lightning shook the heaven and earth; thus he drew the

world to look in adoration, with eyes undazzled as they gazed; with

different mouths, but all in language one, they magnified and praised

this wondrous spectacle, then afterwards drawn by spiritual force, they

came and worshipped at the master's feet, exclaiming:--"Buddha is our

great teacher! we are the honored one's disciples." Thus having

magnified his work and finished all he purposed doing, drawing the world

as universal witness, the assembly was convinced that he, the

world-honored, was truly the "Omniscient!" Buddha, perceiving that the

whole assembly was ready as a vessel to receive the law, spoke thus to

Bimbisâra Râga: "Listen now and understand: The mind, the thoughts, and

all the senses are subject to the law of life and death. This fault of

birth and death, once understood, then there is clear and plain

perception. Obtaining this clear perception, then there is born

knowledge of self; knowing oneself and with this knowledge laws of birth

and death, then there is no grasping and no sense-perception. Knowing

oneself, and understanding how the senses act, then there is no room for

'I' (soul) or ground for framing it; then all the accumulated mass of

sorrow, sorrows born from life and death, being recognized as attributes

of body, and as this body is not 'I,' nor offers ground for 'I,' then

comes the great superlative, the source of peace unending. This thought

of 'self' gives rise to all these sorrows, binding as with cords the

world, but having found there is no 'I' that can be bound, then all

these bonds are severed. There are no bonds indeed--they disappear--and

seeing this there is deliverance. The world holds to this thought of

'I,' and so, from this, comes false apprehension. Of those who maintain

the truth of it, some say the 'I' endures, some say it perishes; taking

the two extremes of birth and death, their error is most grievous! For

if they say the 'I' is perishable, the fruit they strive for, too, will

perish; and at some time there will be no hereafter: this is indeed a

meritless deliverance. But if they say the 'I' is not to perish, then in

the midst of all this life and death there is but one identity as space,

which is not born and does not die. If this is what they call the 'I,'

then are all things living, one--for all have this unchanging self--not

perfected by any deeds, but self-perfect. If so, if such a self it is

that acts, let there be no self-mortifying conduct, the self is lord and

master; what need to do that which is done? For if this 'I' is lasting

and imperishable, then reason would teach it never can be changed. But

now we see the marks of joy and sorrow, what room for constancy then is

here? Knowing that birth brings this deliverance then I put away all

thought of sin's defilement; the whole world, everything, endures! what

then becomes of this idea of rescue? We cannot even talk of putting self

away, truth is the same as falsehood; it is not 'I' that do a thing, and

who, forsooth, is he that talks of 'I'? But if it is not 'I' that do the

thing, then there is no 'I' that does it, and in the absence of these

both, there is no 'I' at all, in very truth. No doer and no knower, no

lord, yet notwithstanding this, there ever lasts this birth and death,

like morn and night ever recurring. But now attend to me and listen: The

senses six and their six objects united cause the six kinds of

knowledge, these three united bring forth contact, then the intervolved

effects of recollection follow. Then like the burning glass and tinder

through the sun's power cause fire to appear, so through the knowledge

born of sense and object, the lord of knowledge (self) is born. The

shoot springs from the seed, the seed is not the shoot, not one and yet

not different: such is the birth of all that lives." The honored of the

world preaching the truth, the equal and impartial paramârtha, thus

addressed the king with all his followers. Then King Bimbisâra filled

with joy, removing from himself defilement, gained religious sight, a

hundred thousand spirits also, hearing the words of the immortal law,

shook off and lost the stain of sin.

The Great Disciple Becomes a Hermit

At this time Bimbisâra Râga, bowing his head, requested the honored of

the world to change his place of abode for the bamboo grove; graciously

accepting it, Buddha remained silent. Then the king, having perceived

the truth, offered his adoration and returned to his palace. The

world-honored, with the great congregation, proceeded on foot, to rest

for awhile in the bamboo garden. There he dwelt to convert all that

breathed, to kindle once for all the lamp of wisdom, to establish Brahma

and the Devas, and to confirm the lives of saints and sages. At this

time Asvagit and Vâshpa, with heart composed and every sense subdued,

the time having come for begging food, entered into the town of

Râgagriha. Unrivalled in the world were they for grace of person, and in

dignity of carriage excelling all. The lords and ladies of the city

seeing them, were filled with joy; those who were walking stood still,

those before waited, those behind hastened on. Now the Rishi Kapila

amongst all his numerous disciples had one of wide-spread fame, whose

name was Sâriputra; he, beholding the wonderful grace of the Bhikshus,

their composed mien and subdued senses, their dignified walk and

carriage, raising his hands, inquiring, said: "Young in years, but pure

and graceful in appearance, such as I before have never seen. What law

most excellent have you obeyed? and who your master that has taught you?

and what the doctrine you have learned? Tell me, I pray you, and relieve

my doubts." Then of the Bhikshus, one, rejoicing at his question, with

pleasing air and gracious words, replied: "The omniscient, born of the

Ikshvâku family, the very first 'midst gods and men, this one is my

great master. I am indeed but young, the sun of wisdom has but just

arisen, how can I then explain the master's doctrine? Its meaning is

deep and very hard to understand, but now, according to my poor wisdom,

I will recount in brief the master's doctrine:--'Whatever things exist

all spring from cause, the principles of birth and death may be

destroyed, the way is by the means he has declared.'" Then the

twice-born Upata, embracing heartily what he had heard, put from him all

sense-pollution, and obtained the pure eyes of the law. The former

explanations he had trusted, respecting cause and what was not the cause

that there was nothing that was made, but was made by Isvara; all this,

now that he had heard the rule of true causation, understanding the

wisdom of the no-self, adding thereto the knowledge of the minute dust

troubles, which can never be overcome in their completeness but by the

teaching of Tathâgata, all this he now forever put away; leaving no room

for thought of self, the thought of self will disappear. Who, when the

brightness of the sun gives light, would call for the dimness of the

lamp? for, like the severing the lotus, the stem once cut, the pods will

also die. "So Buddha's teaching cutting off the stem of sorrow, no seeds

are left to grow or lead to further increase." Then bowing at the

Bhikshu's feet, with grateful mien, he wended homewards. The Bhikshus

after having begged their food, likewise went back to the bamboo grove.

Sâriputra on his arrival home rested with joyful face and full of peace.

His friend, the honored Mugalin, equally renowned for learning, seeing

Sâriputra in the distance, his pleasing air and lightsome step, spoke

thus:--"As I now see thee, there is an unusual look I notice; your

former nature seems quite changed, the signs of happiness I now observe,

all indicate the possession of eternal truth: these marks are not

uncaused." Answering he said: "The words of the Tathâgata are such as

never yet were spoken," and then, requested, he declared what he had

heard. Hearing the words and understanding them, he too put off the

world's defilement, and gained the eyes of true religion, the reward of

a long-planted virtuous cause; and, as one sees by a lamp that comes to

hand, so he obtained an unmoved faith in Buddha; and now they both set

out for Buddha's presence, with a large crowd of followers. Buddha

seeing the two worthies coming, thus spoke to his disciples:--"These two

men who come shall be my two most eminent followers, one unsurpassed for

wisdom, the other for powers miraculous." And then with Brahma's voice,

profound and sweet, he forthwith bade them "Welcome!" Here is the pure

and peaceful law, he said; here the end of all discipleship! Their hands

grasping the triple-staff, their twisted hair holding the water-vessel,

hearing the words of Buddha's welcome, they forthwith changed into

complete Sramanas; the leaders two and all their followers, assuming the

complete appearance of Bhikshus, with prostrate forms fell down at

Buddha's feet, then rising, sat beside him, and with obedient heart

listening to the word, they all became Arhats. At this time there was a

twice-born sage, Kâsyapa Shi-ming-teng, celebrated and perfect in

person, rich in possessions, and his wife most virtuous. But all this he

had left and become a hermit, seeking the way of salvation. And now in

the way by the To-tseu tower he suddenly encountered Sâkya Muni,

remarkable for his dignified and illustrious appearance, as the

embroidered flag of a temple. Respectfully and reverently approaching,

with head bowed down, he worshipped his feet, whilst he said: "Truly,

honored one, you are my teacher, and I am your follower: much and long

time have I been harassed with doubts, oh! would that you would light

the lamp of knowledge." Buddha knowing that this twice-born sage was

heartily desirous of finding the best mode of escape, with soft and

pliant voice, he bade him come and welcome. Hearing his bidding and his

heart complying, losing all listlessness of body or spirit, his soul

embraced the terms of this most excellent salvation. Quiet and calm,

putting away defilement, the great merciful, as he alone knew how,

briefly explained the mode of this deliverance, exhibiting the secrets

of his law, ending with the four indestructible acquirements. The great

sage, everywhere celebrated, was called Mahâ Kâsyapa. His original faith

was that "body and soul are different," but he had also held that they

are the same; that there was both "I" and a place for "I"; but now he

forever cast away his former faith, and considered only that "sorrow" is

ever accumulating; so by removing sorrow there will be "no remains";

obedience to the precepts and the practice of discipline, though not

themselves the cause, yet he considered these the necessary mode by

which to find deliverance. With equal and impartial mind, he considered

the nature of sorrow, for evermore freed from a cleaving heart. Whether

we think "this is" or "this is not" he thought, both tend to produce a

listless, idle mode of life. But when with equal mind we see the truth,

then certainty is produced and no more doubt. If we rely for support on

wealth or form, then wild confusion and concupiscence result: inconstant

and impure. But lust and covetous desire removed, the heart of love and

equal thoughts produced, there can be then no enemies or friends, but

the heart is pitiful and kindly disposed to all, and thus is destroyed

the power of anger and of hate. Trusting to outward things and their

relationships, then crowding thoughts of every kind are gendered.

Reflecting well, and crushing out confusing thought, then lust for

pleasure is destroyed. Though born in the Arûpa world he saw that there

would be a remnant of life still left; unacquainted with the four right

truths, he had felt an eager longing for this deliverance, for the quiet

resulting from the absence of all thought. And now putting away forever

covetous desire for such a formless state of being, his restless heart

was agitated still, as the stream is excited by the rude wind. Then

entering on deep reflection in quiet he subdued his troubled mind, and

realized the truth of there being no "self," and that therefore birth

and death are no realities; but beyond this point he rose not: his

thought of "self" destroyed, all else was lost. But now the lamp of

wisdom lit, the gloom of every doubt dispersed, he saw an end to that

which seemed without an end; ignorance finally dispelled, he considered

the ten points of excellence; the ten seeds of sorrow destroyed, he came

once more to life, and what he ought to do, he did. And now regarding

with reverence the face of his lord, he put away the three and gained

the three; so were there three disciples in addition to the three; and

as the three stars range around the Trayastrimsas heaven, waiting upon

the three and five, so the three wait on Buddha.

Conversion of the "Supporter of the Orphans and Destitute"

At this time there was a great householder whose name was "Friend of the

Orphaned and Destitute"; he was very rich and widely charitable in

helping the poor and needy. Now this man, coming far away from the

north, even from the country of Kosala, stopped at the house of a friend

whose name was Sheu-lo. Hearing that Buddha was in the world and

dwelling in the bamboo grove near at hand, understanding moreover his

renown and illustrious qualities, he set out that very night for the

grove. Tathâgata, well aware of his character, and that he was prepared

to bring forth purity and faith, according to the case, called him by

his true name, and for his sake addressed him in words of

religion:--"Having rejoiced in the true law, and being humbly desirous

for a pure and believing heart, thou hast overcome desire for sleep, and

art here to pay me reverence. Now then will I for your sake discharge

fully the duties of a first meeting. In your former births the root of

virtue planted firm in pure and rare expectancy, hearing now the name of

Buddha, you rejoiced because you are a vessel fit for righteousness,

humble in mind, but large in gracious deeds, abundant in your charity to

the poor and helpless. The name you possess widespread and famous, the

just reward of former merit, the deeds you now perform are done of

charity: done with the fullest purpose and of single heart. Now,

therefore, take from me the charity of perfect rest, and for this end

accept my rules of purity. My rules are full of grace, able to rescue

from destruction, and cause a man to ascend to heaven and share in all

its pleasures. But yet to seek for these is a great evil, for lustful

longing in its increase brings much sorrow. Practise then the art of

'giving up' all search, for 'giving up' desire is the joy of perfect

rest. Know then! that age, disease, and death, these are the great

sorrows of the world. Rightly considering the world, we put away birth

and old age, disease and death; but now because we see that men at large

inherit sorrow caused by age, disease, and death, we gather that when

born in heaven, the case is also thus; for there is no continuance there

for any, and where there is no continuance there is sorrow, and having

sorrow there is no 'true self.' And if the state of 'no continuance' and

of sorrow is opposed to 'self,' what room is there for such idea or

ground for self? Know then! that 'sorrow' is this very sorrow and its

repetition is 'accumulation'; destroy this sorrow and there is joy, the

way is in the calm and quiet place. The restless busy nature of the

world, this I declare is at the root of pain. Stop then the end by

choking up the source. Desire not either life or its opposite; the

raging fire of birth, old age, and death burns up the world on every

side. Seeing the constant toil of birth and death we ought to strive to

attain a passive state: the final goal of Sammata, the place of

immortality and rest. All is empty! neither 'self,' nor place for

'self,' but all the world is like a phantasy; this is the way to regard

ourselves, as but a heap of composite qualities."

The nobleman, hearing the spoken law, forthwith attained the first

degree of holiness: he emptied as it were, the sea of birth and death,

one drop alone remaining. By practising, apart from men, the banishment

of all desire, he soon attained the one impersonal condition, not as

common folk do now-a-day who speculate upon the mode of true

deliverance; for he who does not banish sorrow-causing samskâras does

but involve himself in every kind of question; and though he reaches to

the highest form of being, yet grasps not the one and only truth.

Erroneous thoughts as to the joy of heaven are still entwined by the

fast cords of lust. The nobleman attending to the spoken law the cloud

of darkness opened before the shining splendor. Thus he attained true

sight, erroneous views forever dissipated; even as the furious winds of

autumn sway to and fro and scatter all the heaped-up clouds. He argued

not that Isvara was cause, nor did he advocate some cause heretical, nor

yet again did he affirm there was no cause for the beginning of the

world. "If the world was made by Isvara deva, there should be neither

young nor old, first nor after, nor the five ways of birth; and when

once born there should be no destruction. Nor should there be such thing

as sorrow or calamity, nor doing wrong nor doing right; for all, both

pure and impure deeds, these must come from Isvara deva. Again, if

Isvara deva made the world there should be never doubt about the fact,

even as a son born of his father ever confesses him and pays him

reverence. Men when pressed by sore calamity ought not to rebel against

him, but rather reverence him completely, as the self-existent. Nor

ought they to adore more gods than one. Again, if Isvara be the maker he

should not be called the self-existent, because in that he is the maker

now he always should have been the maker; but if ever making, then ever

self-remembering, and therefore not the self-existent one--and if he

made without a purpose then is he like the sucking child; but if he made

having an ever prompting purpose, then is he not, with such a purpose,

self-existent? Sorrow and joy spring up in all that lives, these at

least are not the works of Isvara; for if he causes grief and joy, he

must himself have love and hate; but if he loves unduly, or has hatred,

he cannot properly be named the self-existent. Again, if Isvara be the

maker, all living things should silently submit, patient beneath the

maker's power, and then what use to practise virtue? Twere equal, then,

the doing right or wrong: there should be no reward of works; the works

themselves being his making, then all things are the same with him, the

maker, but if all things are one with him, then our deeds, and we who do

them, are also self-existent. But if Isvara be uncreated, then all

things, being one with him, are uncreated. But if you say there is

another cause beside him as creator, then Isvara is not the 'end of

all'; Isvara, who ought to be inexhaustible, is not so, and therefore

all that lives may after all be uncreated--without a maker. Thus, you

see, the thought of Isvara is overthrown in this discussion; and all

such contradictory assertions should be exposed; if not, the blame is

ours. Again, if it be said self-nature is the maker, this is as faulty

as the first assertion; nor has either of the Hetuvidyâ sâstras asserted

such a thing as this, till now. That which depends on nothing cannot as

a cause make that which is; but all things round us come from a cause,

as the plant comes from the seed; we cannot therefore say that all

things are produced by self-nature. Again, all things which exist spring

not from one nature as a cause; and yet you say self-nature is but one:

it cannot then be cause of all. If you say that that self-nature

pervades and fills all places, if it pervades and fills all things, then

certainly it cannot make them too; for there would be nothing, then, to

make, and therefore this cannot be the cause. If, again, it fills all

places and yet makes all things that exist, then it should throughout

'all time' have made forever that which is. But if you say it made

things thus, then there is nothing to be made 'in time'; know then, for

certain, self-nature cannot be the cause of all. Again, they say that

that self-nature excludes all modifications, therefore all things made

by it ought likewise to be free from modifications. But we see, in fact,

that all things in the world are fettered throughout by modifications;

therefore, again, we say that self-nature cannot be the cause of all.

If, again, you say that that self-nature is different from such

qualities, we answer, since self-nature must have ever caused, it cannot

differ in its nature from itself; but if the world be different from

these qualities, then self-nature cannot be the cause. Again, if

self-nature be unchangeable, so things should also be without decay; if

we regard self-nature as the cause, then cause and consequence of reason

should be one; but because we see decay in all things, we know that they

at least are caused. Again, if self-nature be the cause, why should we

seek to find 'escape'? for we ourselves possess this nature; patient

then should we endure both birth and death. For let us take the case

that one may find 'escape,' self-nature still will reconstruct the evil

of birth. If self-nature in itself be blind, yet 'tis the maker of the

world that sees. On this account, again, it cannot be the maker,

because, in this case, cause and effect would differ in their character,

but in all the world around us, cause and effect go hand in hand. Again,

if self-nature have no aim, it cannot cause that which has such purpose.

We know on seeing smoke there must be fire, and cause and result are

ever classed together thus. We are forbidden, then, to say an unthinking

cause can make a thing that has intelligence. The gold of which the cup

is made is gold throughout from first to last, self-nature, then, that

makes these things, from first to last must permeate all it makes. Once

more, if 'time' is maker of the world, 'twere needless then to seek

'escape,' for 'time' is constant and unchangeable: let us in patience

bear the 'intervals' of time. The world in its successions has no

limits, the 'intervals' of time are boundless also. Those then who

practise a religious life need not rely on 'methods' or 'expedients.'

The To-lo-piu Kiu-na, the one strange Sâstra in the world, although it

has so many theories, yet still, be it known, it is opposed to any

single cause. But if, again, you say that 'self' is maker, then surely

self should make things pleasingly; but now things are not pleasing for

oneself, how then is it said that self is maker? But if he did not wish

to make things so, then he who wishes for things pleasing, is opposed to

self, the maker. Sorrow and joy are not self-existing, how can these be

made by self? But if we allow that self was maker, there should not be,

at least, an evil karman; but yet our deeds produce results both good

and evil; know then that 'self' cannot be maker. But perhaps you say

'self' is the maker according to occasion, and then the occasion ought

to be for good alone. But as good and evil both result from 'cause,' it

cannot be that 'self' has made it so. But if you adopt the

argument--there is no maker--then it is useless practising expedients;

all things are fixed and certain of themselves: what good to try to make

them otherwise? Deeds of every kind, done in the world, do,

notwithstanding, bring forth every kind of fruit; therefore we argue all

things that exist are not without some cause or other. There is both

'mind' and 'want of mind'--all things come from fixed causation; the

world and all therein is not the result of 'nothing' as a cause." The

nobleman, his heart receiving light, perceived throughout the most

excellent system of truth. Simple, and of wisdom born; thus firmly

settled in the true doctrine he lowly bent in worship at the feet of

Buddha and with closed hands made his request:--

"I dwell indeed at Srâvasti, a land rich in produce, and enjoying peace;

Prasenagit is the great king thereof, the offspring of the 'lion'

family; his high renown and fame spread everywhere, reverenced by all

both far and near. Now am I wishful there to found a Vihâra, I pray you

of your tenderness accept it from me. I know the heart of Buddha has no

preferences, nor does he seek a resting-place from labor, but on behalf

of all that lives refuse not my request."

Buddha, knowing the householder's heart, that his great charity was now

the moving cause--untainted and unselfish charity, nobly considerate of

the heart of all that lives--he said:

"Now you have seen the true doctrine, your guileless heart loves to

exercise its charity: for wealth and money are inconstant treasures,

'twere better quickly to bestow such things on others. For when a

treasury has been burnt, whatever precious things may have escaped the

fire, the wise man, knowing their inconstancy, gives freely, doing acts

of kindness with his saved possessions. But the niggard guards them

carefully, fearing to lose them, worn by anxiety, but never fearing

'inconstancy,' and that accumulated sorrow, when he loses all! There is

a proper time and a proper mode in charity; just as the vigorous warrior

goes to battle, so is the man 'able to give'--he also is an able

warrior; a champion strong and wise in action. The charitable man is

loved by all, well-known and far-renowned! his friendship prized by the

gentle and the good, in death his heart at rest and full of joy! He

suffers no repentance, no tormenting fear, nor is he born a wretched

ghost or demon! this is the opening flower of his reward, the fruit that

follows--hard to conjecture! In all the six conditions born there is no

sweet companion like pure charity; if born a Deva or a man, then charity

brings worship and renown on every hand; if born among the lower

creatures, the result of charity will follow in contentment got; wisdom

leads the way to fixed composure without dependence and without number,

and if we even reach the immortal path, still by continuous acts of

charity we fulfil ourselves in consequence of kindly charity done

elsewhere. Training ourselves in the eightfold path of recollection, in

every thought the heart is filled with joy; firm fixed in holy

contemplation, by meditation still we add to wisdom, able to see aright

the cause of birth and death; having beheld aright the cause of these,

then follows in due order perfect deliverance. The charitable man

discarding earthly wealth, nobly excludes the power of covetous desire;

loving and compassionate now, he gives with reverence and banishes all

hatred, envy, anger. So plainly may we see the fruit of charity, putting

away all covetous and unbelieving ways, the bands of sorrow all

destroyed: this is the fruit of kindly charity. Know then! the

charitable man has found the cause of final rescue; even as the man who

plants the sapling thereby secures the shade, the flowers, the fruit of

the tree full grown; the result of charity is even so, its reward is joy

and the great Nirvâna. The charity which un-stores wealth leads to

returns of well-stored fruit. Giving away our food we get more strength,

giving away our clothes we get more beauty, founding religious

rest-places we reap the perfect fruit of the best charity. There is a

way of giving, seeking pleasure by it; there is a way of giving,

coveting to get more; some also give away to get a name for charity,

others to get the happiness of heaven, others to avoid the pain of being

poor hereafter, but yours, O friend! is a charity without such thoughts:

the highest and the best degree of charity, without self-interest or

thought of getting more. What your heart inclines you now to do, let it

be quickly done and well completed! The uncertain and the lustful heart

goes wandering here and there, but the pure eyes of virtue opening, the

heart comes back and rests!" The nobleman accepting Buddha's teaching,

his kindly heart receiving yet more light.

He invited Upatishya, his excellent friend, to accompany him on his

return to Kosala; and then going round to select a pleasant site, he saw

the garden of the heir-apparent, Geta, the groves and limpid streams

most pure. Proceeding where the prince was dwelling, he asked for leave

to buy the ground; the prince, because he valued it so much, at first

was not inclined to sell, but said at last:--"If you can cover it with

gold then, but not else, you may possess it."

The nobleman, his heart rejoicing, forthwith began to spread his gold.

Then Geta said: "I will not give, why then spread you your gold?" The

nobleman replied, "Not give; why then said you, 'Fill it with yellow

gold'?" And thus they differed and contended both, till they resorted to

the magistrate.

Meanwhile the people whispered much about his unwonted charity, and Geta

too, knowing the man's sincerity, asked more about the matter: what his

reasons were. On his reply, "I wish to found a Vihâra, and offer it to

the Tathâgata and all his Bhikshu followers," the prince, hearing the

name of Buddha, received at once illumination, and only took one-half

the gold, desiring to share in the foundation: "Yours is the land," he

said, "but mine the trees; these will I give to Buddha as my share in

the offering." Then the noble took the land, Geta the trees, and settled

both in trust on Sâriputra. Then they began to build the hall, laboring

night and day to finish it. Lofty it rose and choicely decorated, as one

of the four kings' palaces, in just proportions, following the

directions which Buddha had declared the right ones. Never yet so great

a miracle as this! the priests shone in the streets of Srâvasti!

Tathâgata, seeing the divine shelter, with all his holy ones resorted to

the place to rest. No followers there to bow in prostrate service, his

followers rich in wisdom only. The nobleman reaping his reward, at the

end of life ascended up to heaven, leaving to sons and grandsons a good

foundation, through successive generations, to plough the field of

merit.

Interview between Father and Son

Buddha in the Magadha country employing himself in converting all kinds

of unbelievers, entirely changed them by the one and self-same law he

preached, even as the sun drowns with its brightness all the stars. Then

leaving the city of the five mountains with the company of his thousand

disciples, and with a great multitude who went before and came after

him, he advanced towards the Ni-kin mountain, near Kapilavastu; and

there he conceived in himself a generous purpose to prepare an offering

according to his religious doctrine to present to his father, the king.

And now, in anticipation of his coming, the royal teacher and the chief

minister had sent forth certain officers and their attendants to observe

on the right hand and the left what was taking place; and they soon

espied him (Buddha) as he advanced or halted on the way. Knowing that

Buddha was now returning to his country they hastened back and quickly

announced the tidings, "The prince who wandered forth afar to obtain

enlightenment, having fulfilled his aim, is now coming back." The king

hearing the news was greatly rejoiced, and forthwith went out with his

gaudy equipage to meet his son; and the whole body of gentry belonging

to the country, went forth with him in his company. Gradually advancing

he beheld Buddha from afar, his marks of beauty sparkling with splendor

twofold greater than of yore; placed in the middle of the great

congregation he seemed to be even as Brahma râga. Descending from his

chariot and advancing with dignity, the king was anxious lest there

should be any religious difficulty in the way of instant recognition;

and now beholding his beauty he inwardly rejoiced, but his mouth found

no words to utter. He reflected, too, how that he was still dwelling

among the unconverted throng, whilst his son had advanced and become a

saint; and although he was his son, yet as he now occupied the position

of a religious lord, he knew not by what name to address him.

Furthermore he thought with himself how he had long ago desired

earnestly this interview, which now had happened unawares. Meantime his

son in silence took a seat, perfectly composed and with unchanged

countenance. Thus for some time sitting opposite each other, with no

expression of feeling the king reflected thus, "How desolate and sad

does he now make my heart, as that of a man, who, fainting, longs for

water, upon the road espies a fountain pure and cold; with haste he

speeds towards it and longs to drink, when suddenly the spring dries up

and disappears. Thus, now I see my son, his well-known features as of

old; but how estranged his heart! and how his manner high and lifted up!

There are no grateful outflowings of soul, his feelings seem unwilling

to express themselves; cold and vacant there he sits; and like a thirsty

man before a dried-up fountain so am I."

Still distant thus they sat, with crowding thoughts rushing through the

mind, their eyes full met, but no responding joy; each looking at the

other, seemed as one thinking of a distant friend who gazes by accident

upon his pictured form. "That you," the king reflected, "who of right

might rule the world, even as that Mândhâtri râga, should now go begging

here and there your food! what joy or charm has such a life as this?

Composed and firm as Sumeru, with marks of beauty bright as the

sunlight, with dignity of step like the ox king, fearless as any lion,

and yet receiving not the tribute of the world, but begging food

sufficient for your body's nourishment!"

Buddha, knowing his father's mind, still kept to his own filial purpose.

And then to open out his mind, and moved with pity for the multitude of

people, by his miraculous power he rose in mid-air and with his hands

appeared to grasp the sun and moon. Then he walked to and fro in space,

and underwent all kinds of transformation, dividing his body into many

parts, then joining all in one again. Treading firm on water as on dry

land, entering the earth as in the water, passing through walls of stone

without impediment, from the right side and the left water and fire

produced! The king, his father, filled with joy, now dismissed all

thought of son and father; then upon a lotus throne, seated in space, he

(Buddha) for his father's sake declared the law:--

"I know that the king's heart is full of love and recollection, and that

for his son's sake he adds grief to grief; but now let the bands of love

that bind him, thinking of his son, be instantly unloosed and utterly

destroyed. Ceasing from thoughts of love, let your calmed mind receive

from me, your son, religious nourishment such as no son has offered yet

to father: such do I present to you the king, my father. And what no

father yet has from a son received, now from your son you may accept, a

gift miraculous for any mortal king to enjoy, and seldom had by any

heavenly king! The way superlative of life immortal I offer now the

Mahârâga; from accumulated deeds comes birth, and as the result of deeds

comes recompense. Knowing then that deeds bring fruit, how diligent

should you be to rid yourself of worldly deeds! how careful that in the

world your deeds should be only good and gentle! Fondly affected by

relationship or firmly bound by mutual ties of love, at end of life the

soul goes forth alone--then, only our good deeds befriend us. Whirled in

the five ways of the wheel of life, three kinds of deeds produce three

kinds of birth, and these are caused by lustful hankering, each kind

different in its character. Deprive these of their power by the practice

now of proper deeds of body and of word; by such right preparation, day

and night strive to get rid of all confusion of the mind and practise

silent contemplation; only this brings profit in the end, besides this

there is no reality; for be sure! the three worlds are but as the froth

and bubble of the sea. Would you have pleasure, or would you practise

that which brings it near? then prepare yourself by deeds that bring the

fourth birth: but still the five ways in the wheel of birth and death

are like the uncertain wandering of the stars; for heavenly beings too

must suffer change: how shall we find with men a hope of constancy;

Nirvâna! that is the chief rest; composure! that the best of all

enjoyments! The five indulgences enjoyed by mortal kings are fraught

with danger and distress, like dwelling with a poisonous snake; what

pleasure, for a moment, can there be in such a case? The wise man sees

the world as compassed round with burning flames; he fears always, nor

can he rest till he has banished, once for all, birth, age, and death.

Infinitely quiet is the place where the wise man finds his abode; no

need of arms or weapons there! no elephants or horses, chariots or

soldiers there! Subdued the power of covetous desire and angry thoughts

and ignorance, there's nothing left in the wide world to conquer!

Knowing what sorrow is, he cuts away the cause of sorrow. This

destroyed, by practising right means, rightly enlightened in the four

true principles, he casts off fear and escapes the evil ways of birth."