_Voyage to Wethalie—Last temptation of Manh—Causes of
earthquake—New instructions to the Rahans—Last meal of
Buddha—His painful distemper—His conversation with one
of the Malla princes—Sign foreshowing Buddha’s coming
death—Arrival in the Kootheinaron forest—Buddha lays himself
on his couch—Wonders attending that event—Instructions to
Ananda—Eulogium of Ananda by Buddha—Conversion of Thoubat—Last
words of Buddha to the Rahans—His death._
Having left Radzagio Buddha intimated to Ananda that he wished to return
to Wethalie. On his way to the right bank of the Ganges, he arrived at
a place called Oukkatsela, where he preached on the death of his two
greatest disciples. Thence he crossed the mighty stream and shaped his
course towards Wethalie. On the day that he entered the city he went in
quest of his food. Having partaken of what he had received, he called
Ananda, bade him take his mat and cushion, and follow him to the Tsapala
dzedi, where he intended to spend a part of the day. Complying with the
command, Ananda followed Buddha, and with him went to the beautiful site
of Tsapala, to the place prepared for his master. Ananda approached Phra,
and, respectfully prostrated, said to him, “This is, indeed, a very
agreeable place.” Whereupon Buddha, rejoicing, praised the different
sites of that country which were in the neighbourhood of the Wethalie
city, as well as the dzedis that adorned them, and added, “Ananda, every
wise person ought to be earnest in perfecting himself in the four laws
of edeipat. Having advanced in the practice of these laws, he can, if he
choose to do so, remain in a state of fixity during a whole revolution
of nature, and even more. I, the Buddha, have become perfect in those
laws, and I may remain as I am now during an innumerable number of
years.” Three times the same words were repeated. But Ananda, entangled
as yet in the meshes of the tempter Manh Nat, remained prostrated before
Buddha. It never came to his mind to entreat him to remain longer
on earth for the benefit of mortals, who would derive the greatest
advantages from his presence.
At that time Ananda rose up, with his mind troubled by the influence of
the evil one, withdrew from Buddha’s presence and went to the foot of
a tree at a small distance. He had scarcely left Buddha alone when the
Nat Manh, perceiving that Buddha remained alone for awhile, approached
near his person, and keeping at a respectful distance, said to him,
“Great, illustrious, and glorious Phra, who preachest an excellent law,
it is now time for you to enter into the state of Neibban. You said in
former times, that as long as your disciples were not much advanced in
knowledge, as long as they had not obtained a thorough command over their
heart, mouth, and senses, as long as they were still wanting in firmness
and diligence for hearing and understanding the law, or unequal to the
task of preaching the law, you would not go to Neibban. Now the Rahans,
members of the assembly and your disciples, both males and females, are
thoroughly instructed in all the parts of the law; they are firm in
controlling their passions; they can preach the law to the other mortals;
the Nats and Brahmas have heard your preachings, and countless numbers
among them have obtained the deliverance; the time, therefore, is come
for you to enter into the state of Neibban.” Buddha knowing the wicked
one, with his evil dispositions, replied, “Ha! wretched Manh, do not
concern yourself about me. Ere long I will go to Neibban.”
Whilst he was near the dzedi of Tsapala, Buddha, in a moment of perfect
calmness of mind, entered into a sort of extraordinary state of
contemplation, in which, for the first time, he mastered completely
the principles of life, and appeared as if he had abandoned life. But
it ought not to be understood that he parted with life, as a man lets
go a stone that he has in his hands; but he estranged himself from the
material life, renounced it, and placed himself beyond the reach of the
influence that produces reward in the material or immaterial seats, and
above that other influence which, procuring merits or demerits, keeps
a being in the whirlpool of transmigration. As a mighty warrior on the
battle-field throws down every barrier or obstacle that he meets, so
Buddha broke down all the ties that had hitherto linked him to the state
of existence.[8] At that very instant the earth trembled with such
violence that it caused the hairs of one’s head to stand on end. Then he
said to all present, “I am delivered from the influence of the world of
matter, of the world of passions, and from every influence that causes
the migration from one existence to another. I enjoy now a perfect calm
of mind; like the mighty warrior who on the field of battle has conquered
all his enemies, I have triumphed over all passions. I have mastered
existence itself by destroying the principle that causes it.” These
words were uttered by Phra, lest perhaps some people might infer that he
entered into the extraordinary state on which he mastered the elements of
life, from fear caused by the language of the tempter, inviting him to go
forthwith to Neibban.
Ananda, having felt the earthquake, respectfully approached Buddha and
prostrated himself before him. Withdrawing then to a becoming distance,
he asked him the causes that produce the extraordinary and terrifying
phenomenon of earthquakes. “My son,” answered Buddha, “eight causes make
the earth tremble: 1st, The earth lies on a mass of water, which rests on
the air, and the air on space; when the air is set in motion, it shakes
the water, which in its turn shakes the earth; 2d, any being gifted
with extraordinary powers; 3d, the conception of Phralaong for his last
existence; 4th, his birth; 5th, his becoming a Buddha; 6th, his preaching
the law of the wheel; 7th, his mastering and renouncing existence;
8th, his obtaining the state of Neibban. These are the eight causes of
earthquakes. Ananda, a little while after having become a Buddha, I
was in the solitude of Ouroowela, on the banks of the river Neritzara,
under the shade of a banyan-tree planted by some shepherds. The wicked
Nat came into my presence and requested me to go forthwith to Neibban.
I refused then to comply with his demand, and said to him, ‘Wretched
Manh, my disciples, members of the assembly, either males or females,
the believers, either men or women, have not yet acquired sufficient
knowledge, prudence, and penetration, courage, and resolution. They have
not been as yet properly instructed in the most essential and highest
articles of the law; they are unable to teach others: my religion is not
yet resting on a strong foundation. The time, therefore, is not yet come
for me to enter into the state of Neibban. Now, near this very dzedi of
Tsapala, he has come anew and told me the same thing. Do not trouble
yourself, miserable wretch, have I said to him; three months hence, I
will obtain the state of Neibban. On this occasion I have fallen into the
state in which I have mastered the principles of life by the means of the
four laws of edeipat.’”[9]
Ananda said to Phra: “Illustrious Buddha, please to remain during a whole
Kalpa in this world for the benefit of men, Nats, and Brahmas.” “Ananda,”
replied Phra, “your present request is too late and cannot be granted.”
Three times the faithful disciple begged of his great teacher this
favour, and three times he received the same refusal. “Do you believe,
O Ananda, that I know the four ways that lead to science and wisdom,
and that I am perfect in the four laws of edeipat?” “I do believe it,”
answered Ananda. “Do you recollect, O Ananda, that a little while ago I
said to you three times that he who was perfect in the laws of edeipat
could remain, if he chose, during an entire Kalpa in this world? I added
that I was thoroughly acquainted with these four laws; but you remained
silent, and made no demand of me to remain longer in this world. The
time for making this request is now irrevocably past. The term of my
life is for ever fixedly determined. Now, Ananda, let us go to Mahawon
Kootagara in the forest of the sala-trees.” Having reached the place and
stayed therein for a few days, he desired his faithful attendant to go to
Wethalie and assemble all the Rahans in the Gnyipoora hall. When they had
all assembled in that place, Ananda informed Buddha that his order had
been duly executed. Phra went to the hall, and sat in the place prepared
for him. He then, addressing the assembly, said: “My beloved children,
the law which my supreme wisdom has discovered, I have announced for your
benefit and advantage. You have attentively and perseveringly listened
to it, firmly adhered to its tenets, and zealously propagated them. Now
my religion shall last for a long period, and prove the source of great
blessings to all Nats. But to the end that my religion may last long,
shine forth with splendour, and be productive of incalculable benefits,
it is necessary that great attention should be paid to the thirty-seven
laws from which all good works proceed.[10] These laws you have been
acquainted with by my preachings; it is to you to announce them to all
beings. Meditate with unremitting attention on the principles of change
and mutability. As to me, ere long I will go to Neibban; three months
more, and this last drama shall be over.”
In the morning Buddha, putting on his dress, went out to beg his food,
carrying the patta on his left arm. When he had eaten his meal, he looked
with the steadiness of an elephant over the whole country. The reason
why he cast a look like an elephant over Wethalie is, as he explained it
to Ananda, the following:—The neck-bone of all Buddhas is not like the
links of a chain, but consists of one single solid bone: hence when they
wish to consider some object lying behind they cannot turn their heads
backwards, but the whole body, like that of the elephant, must follow the
same motion. On this and other occasions of this kind, our Buddha had not
to make any effort, but the earth turning round, like the wheel of the
potter, brought the object to be looked at before him. The great city of
Wethalie was within three years to be destroyed by King Adzatathat. As
Buddha had always received many marks of respect and attention from the
inhabitants of that city, he felt the greatest commiseration for them.
His last glance was a sorrowful farewell he bade to the devoted city.
This is the motive that induced Buddha to cast a last look over it.
Buddha went to a place called Pantoogama. He passed successively through
Hatti, Tsampou, and Appara, and thence to Bauga. In the latter place he
preached the four laws of Padesa. Summoning Ananda to his presence, he
desired him to inform the Rahans to hold themselves ready to go to the
Pawa country. Having reached that district, he went with all his Rahans
to live in a monastery built in a grove of mango-trees erected by Tsonda,
the son of a wealthy goldsmith. Tsonda had previously seen Buddha, and
obtained the state of Thautapan. His gratitude induced him to build a
monastery, which, together with the grove, he had given over to Buddha.
His arrival at that place happened on the 14th of the waxing moon of
Katson.
Informed that Phra had come to the monastery, Tsonda repaired hastily
thither, prostrated himself before him, and having taken a seat at a
becoming distance, requested Buddha to accept the meal he would prepare
for him and all the Rahans. Buddha by his silence acquiesced in the
request. Tsonda rose up, bowed down, and turning to the right, left the
monastery. During the whole night, all sorts of the choicest dishes were
prepared. He had a young pig, neither fat nor lean, killed, and the
flesh dressed with rice in the most exquisite manner. The Nats infused
into it the most delicious flavour. At daybreak, everything being ready,
Tsonda went to the monastery, and invited Buddha and all the Rahans to
come and partake of the meal that was ready for them. Buddha rose up,
and, carrying his patta, went to Tsonda’s house, where he sat in the
place prepared for his reception. He took for himself the pork and rice,
but his attendants feasted upon the other dishes. When he had eaten, he
desired Tsonda to bury in the earth the remains of the pork and rice,
because no one in the Nats’ or Brahmas’ seats but himself could digest
such a food. A little while after, Buddha was seized with a violent
attack of dysentery, the pain whereof he bore with the greatest patience
and composure. He suffered so much, not because of the food he had taken,
as he would otherwise have been exposed to the same distemper. The pain
was rather alleviated by the eating of the pork and rice, because the
Nats had infused therein the choicest flavour.
Buddha desired Ananda to be ready to go to the town of Koutheinaron.
While on the way he felt very weak, and retired under the shade of
a tree, commanding Ananda to fold his dugout to sit upon. When he
had rested a little, he called Ananda and said to him: “Ananda, I am
very thirsty; bring me some water.” Ananda replied: “One of the Malla
princes, named Poukatha, has just passed through the Kakouda river with
five hundred carts, and the water is quite muddy.” The Malla princes
ruled by turn over the country. When the time for ruling had not yet
come, or had passed, many of them devoted their time to the pursuit of
trade. Notwithstanding this objection, Buddha repeated three times the
injunction. Ananda at last took up Phra’s patta and went to the stream to
fetch water. How great was his surprise when he found the water clear and
limpid. He said to himself: “Great indeed is the power of Buddha, who has
worked such a wonderful change in this stream.” He filled the patta with
water and brought it to his great teacher, who drank of it.
Prince Poukatha had been a disciple of the Rathee Alara. He came to
Buddha, and said to him, whilst he was under the shade of the tree:
“Great indeed is the peace and calm composure of mind of the Rahans. On
a former occasion,” added he, “whilst the Rathee Alara was travelling,
he went to rest under the shade of a tree, at a small distance, by the
wayside. A merchant with five hundred carts happened to pass by. A man
that followed at a distance came to the place where Alara was resting,
and inquired of him if he had seen the five hundred carts that had just
passed by. Alara replied that he was not aware that any cart had come in
sight. The man at first suspected that Alara was unsound in his mind, but
he was soon convinced that what he was at first inclined to attribute to
mental derangement was caused by the sublime abstraction of the Rathee
from all that was taking place.”
Buddha having heard this story, rejoined: “Which is, in your opinion,
the more wonderful occurrence, to see a man in his senses and awake not
to notice the passing of five hundred carts or even of one thousand, or
to see another man, equally awake and in the enjoyment of his mental
faculties, who did not hear the violence of a storm, a heavy fall of
rain, accompanied with loud peals of thunder and uninterrupted flashes
of lightning? In former times, I, the Buddha, was sitting under a small
shed. A most violent storm came on; peals of thunder resounded more
awfully than the roaring of the sea, and lightnings seemed to rend the
atmosphere in every direction. At that time two brothers were ploughing
in a field with four bullocks. They were all killed, men and bullocks, by
lightning. A man came to me whilst I was walking in front of the shed,
and told me that he came to see the accident that had just happened,
and asked me some particulars concerning it. I answered him that I was
not aware that any storm had raged near this place, nor any accident
attended it. The stranger inquired of me whether I was asleep; or if
not, whether I was in possession of my senses. I answered him that I
was not asleep, and that I was in the perfect enjoyment of my mental
and physical faculties. My answer made a powerful impression upon him:
he thought within himself that great and wonderful is the power of
Thamabat, which procures to the Rahans such an imperturbable calm of
mind, which cannot be disturbed by the mightiest convulsions of nature.
Now, Prince Poukatha, in whom do you think that the greatest calm of mind
has prevailed?” “Most excellent Phra,” replied the prince, “the great
respect I bore formerly unto the Rathee Alara has disappeared like the
chaff before the wind, and run out like the water of a rapid stream. I
am now like a man to whom the true road has been pointed out, who has
discovered hidden things, and who has a shining light before him. You
have announced to me the true law, which has dispelled the cloud of
ignorance and brought happiness and calm to my hitherto disturbed soul.
From this moment I believe in Buddha, the law, and the assembly, and to
the end of my life I will ever remain a believer.” The Prince called
a young man, and directed him to go and bring two beautiful and rich
pieces of cloth having the colour of pure gold thread. When they had
been brought over, the prince, holding them in his hand, said: “O most
glorious Buddha, these pieces of cloth I have occasionally worn: they are
in colour like gold, and the tissue is of the finest description; please
to accept them as an offering I make to you.” Phra desired him to present
one of the pieces to himself, and the other to Ananda, that his merits
might be greater, since the offering would be made to Buddha and to the
assembly in the person of Ananda. This attention in favour of Ananda was
also intended to reward him for his unremitting exertions during the
twenty-five years he had served Buddha with the utmost respect, care, and
affection, without having received any adequate return for his services.
Buddha preached afterwards the law to the prince. When the instruction
was over, Poukatha believed in, and firmly adhered to, the three precious
things, and became a sincere convert. He rose up, prostrated himself
before Buddha, turned on the right, and departed.
Ananda, after the prince’s departure, brought the two dresses to the
great Phra, who put one on his shoulders, whilst the other was girded
round his waist. His body appeared shining like a flame. Ananda was
exceedingly surprised. Nothing of this kind had as yet happened. “Your
exterior appearance,” said he to Buddha, “is at once white, shining, and
beautiful above all expression.” “What you say, O Ananda, is perfectly
true. There are two occasions when my body becomes extraordinarily
beautiful and shining: the first was on the night I obtained the supreme
intelligence; and the second now, when I am about to enter into the state
of Neibban. Doubtless, O Ananda, on the morning after this very night, in
a corner, near the Koutheinaron city, that belongs to the princes Malla,
in the forest of sala-trees, I will go to Neibban. The shining light
emanating from my body is the certain forerunner of this great event.”
Ananda, summoned by Buddha to his presence, received the order to move
to the banks of the Kakouda stream.[11] Having reached the place, Buddha
descended into the stream, bathed, and drank some water. Thence he
directed his steps towards a grove of mango-trees. Ananda had remained
to dry the bathing-robes of his master. Phra called the Rahan Tsanda,
and directed him to fold in four his dugout, because he wished to rest.
The order having been complied with, Buddha sat down, lying on his right
side, with the solemn and fearless appearance of a lion. During his short
sleep Tsanda watched by his side. Ananda soon came up. Buddha called him,
and said, “The meal which the goldsmith’s son has prepared for me, which
I have eaten, is my last meal. He is, forsooth, much grieved because of
the illness that has come upon me after having eaten at his place.[12]
Go now to him, and make him acquainted with the merits he has gained
in making an offering to me. Two meals that I have taken during this
existence are equally deserving of the greatest rewards. The first was
the Nogana, served up to me a little while before I obtained first the
Neibban of Kiletha, or the destruction of passions, and subsequently
the supreme intelligence; the second is the one just offered to me by
the goldsmith’s son, when I ate the dish of rice and pork. That is the
last food I will ever take until I attain the state of Neibban, that is
to say, the Neibban of Khandas, or the destruction of all the supports
of existence. Both these meals were excellent, and are deserving of an
equal reward; viz., beauty, a long life, happiness, a large crowd of
attendants, the happiness of the Nats’ seats, and all sorts of honours
and distinction. Such are the merits reserved to Tsonda, the son of the
goldsmith; go and mention them to him, that his sorrow may be assuaged.”
Gaudama uttered on this occasion the following stanzas:[13] “Alms-deeds
can defend from and protect against the influence and the sources of
demerits, which are man’s true enemies. He alone who is full of merits
and wisdom shuns evil doings, puts an end to concupiscence, anger, and
ignorance, and reaches Neibban.” Buddha, calling Ananda, said to him,
“Let us now go to the bank of the river Hignarawati, in the forest of
sala-trees belonging to the Malla princes.” Attended by a crowd of
Rahans, he went to the bank of the stream. The forest was on a tongue
of land, encircled on three sides by the river. “Ananda,” said Buddha,
“you see those two lofty trees on the skirt of the wood; go and prepare
a resting-place for me between those two trees, in such a way that, when
reclining thereupon, my head should be turned towards the north. The
couch must be arranged in such a manner that one extremity may be near
one tree, and the other extremity close to the opposite tree. Ananda, I
am much fatigued, and desire to rest.” Though Buddha’s strength was equal
to that of a thousand koudes of black elephants, it forsook him almost
entirely from the time he had eaten the dish of Tsonda’s rice and pork.
Though the distance from the place of Pawa to the forest of sala-trees
in the district of Koutheinaron is but three gawots, he was compelled to
rest in traversing it twenty-five times, and it was by dint of great
exertions that he reached the place after sunset. Four places along the
road from Pawa to Koutheinaron became subsequently celebrated by the
resort of many pilgrims who visited them.
[_Remarks of the Burmese Translator._—It has been often asked why Phra
allowed his body to experience fatigue. The reason of his conduct was
to convey instruction to all men, and to make them fully prepared to
bear pain and sickness. Should any one ask why Buddha exerted himself so
much to go to Neibban in that particular place, it should be answered
that Buddha saw three reasons for acting in the manner he did. 1st. To
preach the great Soodathana. (This is the story of a prince called Maha
Soudana, who ruled over the country of Kousawatti. At the conclusion
Buddha declares that in that great prince the law of mutability has acted
throughout his life with an irresistible force; while, as for himself,
he now delights at being emancipated from its thraldom, and longs to be
freed from the prison of his body.) 2d. To instruct Thoubat and lead him
to perfection. 3d. To secure that the disputes that were to arise on
account of the division and possession of his relics should be quieted by
the Pounha Dauna, who would fairly and peaceably effectuate the partition
of those sacred remains.]
Phra, having reached the couch, lay down on his right side with the
noble composure and undaunted fearlessness of a lion.[14] The left leg
was lying directly on the right one; but in order to avoid pain and
the accompanying trouble, the situation of the two legs was such as to
prevent the immediate contact of the two ankles and knees. The forest of
sala-trees lies at the south-west of the city of Koutheinaron. Should any
one wish to go to the city from the forest, he must first go due east,
and then turn north. The place, therefore, where Phra stood was a tongue
of land, surrounded on three sides by the river.
When Buddha was reclining on the couch, the two sala-trees became
suddenly loaded with fragrant blossoms, which gently dropped above and
all round his person, so as almost to cover it. Not only these two trees,
but all those of that forest, and also those in ten thousand worlds,
exhibited the same wonderful and graceful appearance. All the fruit-trees
yielded out of season the best fruits they had ever produced; their
beauty and flavour exceeded all that had ever been seen. The five kinds
of lilies shot forth from the bosom of the earth, and from every plant
and tree; they displayed to the astonished eyes the most ravishing sight.
The mighty mountain of Hymawonta, which is three thousand youdzanas in
extent, shone with all the richness of the colours of the peacock’s
tail. The Nats, who watched over the two ingien or sala-trees, showered
down without interruption the most fragrant flowers. From the seats
of Nats, the flower Mandarawan, which grows on the banks of the lake
Mandawan, and glitters like the purest gold, with leaves expanding like
an umbrella, was showered down by the Nats, together with powder of
sandal-wood and other odoriferous plants. The Nagas and Galongs, joining
the Nats, brought from their respective seats all kinds of flowers and
perfumes, which they let drop like dew over and about Buddha’s sacred
person. Phra, seeing the wonderful display performed by men, Nats, Nagas,
and Galongs, to do him honour, and hearing the sweet accents of Nats’
voices, singing his praises, called Ananda and said to him, “You witness
all that display[15] which is intended to do me honour; it is not as yet
worthy of me, who possess the knowledge of the most sublime law. No one
can be my true follower, or accomplish the commands of the law, by such
a vain and outward homage. Every Rahan or Rahaness, every believer, man
or woman, who practises the excellent works leading to perfect happiness,
these are the persons that render me a true homage, and present to me a
most agreeable offering. The observance of the law alone entitles to the
right of belonging to my religion. Ever remember this, O Ananda, and let
every believer in my religion act up to it.”
Why did Buddha, on this last occasion, lay little stress on the offerings
that were made, whilst on former occasions he had much extolled the
innumerable merits to be derived from the making of offerings? The
reason of his conduct was to give every one to understand that religion
could not subsist unless by the practice of all the duties it commands,
and that it would soon disappear were it supported only by alms-deeds,
offerings, and other outward ceremonies. Alms-deeds are productive of
great rewards, but the practice of virtue alone secures to religion a
prolonged existence.
At that time an illustrious Rahaness, named Oupalawana,[16] at a single
word from Buddha, lowered her fan and went to sit at a certain distance.
Ananda, who had seen this Rahaness attending assiduously on Buddha’s
person during more than twenty seasons, was surprised at seeing that,
without any apparent reason, she had been desired on that occasion to
withdraw to a distance. Phra, reading in the soul of Ananda his innermost
thoughts, said to him, “Ananda, I am not displeased with Oupalawana; but
her body being of a very large size, it prevents the myriads of Nats that
have come from ten thousand worlds to see and contemplate me on this
supreme moment. The Nats can see through the bodies of the generality of
men, but this power falls short with persons much advanced in merits. I
therefore desired her to remove a little far, that the Nats might not be
angry at not seeing my person.”
Ananda put a great many questions to Buddha, which are related at full
length in the Parinibana Thoots.
He asked him, among other topics, how the Rahans were to behave when
women should resort to their monasteries.[17] “Ananda,” answered Buddha,
“a Rahan, desirous to free himself from the sting of concupiscence and
keep his heart firm and steady, ought to have his door shut, and never
look at the women coming to the monastery or standing at the entrance;
because through the eyes concupiscence finds its way into the heart,
and shakes its firmest purposes.” “But,” replied Ananda, “what is to be
done when they come over to bring food to the inmates of the monastery?”
“Ananda,” said Buddha, “in such a case no conversation is to take place
with them. Much safer and better it would be to hold conversation with
a man who, sword in hand, would threaten to cut off our head, or with a
female Biloo ready to devour us the moment we open the mouth to speak.
By conversing with women, one becomes acquainted with them; acquaintance
begets familiarity, kindles passion, leads to the loss of virtue, and
precipitates into the four states of punishment. It is, therefore, most
prudent not to have any conversation with them.” “What is to be done,
O Buddha, in cases when women come to the monastery to hear religious
instructions, to expose their doubts, to seek for spiritual advice, to
learn the practice of religious duties, and render becomingly certain
services to the Rahans? Should a Rahan be silent on such occasions, they
will ridicule him and say, ‘This Rahan, forsooth, is deaf or too well
fed; he therefore cannot speak.’” “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “when on
such occasions a Rahan is obliged to speak, let him consider as mothers
those who are old enough to be mothers, as elder sisters those who appear
a little older than he, as younger sisters or children those that are
younger than he. Never, O Ananda, forget these instructions.”
Ananda inquired of Buddha what ceremonies were to be performed on his
mortal remains after his demise. “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “do not be
much concerned about what shall remain of me after my Neibban, but be
rather earnest to practise the works that lead to perfection. Be not over
solicitous concerning the affairs of this life, where the principle of
change is ever entire; put on those inward dispositions which will enable
you to reach the undisturbed rest of Neibban. There are many among the
princes, rich men and pounhas who are well disposed towards me, and who
will gladly perform all the usual ceremonies on my remains.” “They will,”
replied Ananda, “no doubt come to me, and ask advice as to the most
suitable mode of arranging everything in a becoming manner.” “Ananda,”
answered Buddha, “here are the funeral ceremonies performed after the
death of a Tsekiawaday king. When such a monarch is dead, they wrap his
body with a new fine cloth of Kathicaritz, surround it with a thick
layer of the whitest cotton, wrap it again with a second cloth of the
same country, place over it another layer of cotton, and repeat the same
process five hundred times. The body, thus prepared, is deposited in an
open coffin, gilt outside, and rubbed inside with fragrant oil. Another
coffin, also gilt, is turned over it as a covering. The pile is made of
sandal and other odoriferous woods; flowers, perfumes, and scented water
are profusely spread over it. The coffin having been placed on the pile,
fire is set to it. Similar ceremonies shall be performed on my body after
my death. On the spot where four roads meet, a dzedi is to be erected.
Whoever shall come to that place and make offerings of flags, umbrellas,
flowers, and perfumes, shall thereby perform an act of religion, and
give a token of his respect and affection for my person.[18] He shall
gain many merits; among others, a complete exemption from all troubles
and disquietudes during a long period. Ananda, four sorts of persons are
deserving of the honour of having dzedis erected after their death: 1.
The Buddha who possesses the infinite science; 2. A semi-Buddha; 3. A
Rahanda; 4. The Tsekiawaday king. He who builds a dzedi in honour of
Buddha, shall, after his death, migrate to a place of rest in the seats
of Nats. To him that shall build a dzedi in honour of a semi-Buddha,
an inferior honour shall be awarded in a lower seat of Nats, and a
similar reward shall be enjoyed by those who erect dzedis in honour of
Rahandas and Tsekiawaday kings. It may be asked why the honour of a dzedi
is conferred on a king who lives in the world, enjoys its pleasures,
&c., whilst it is denied to a Rahan, who has renounced the world, and
practised the excellent works. Formerly, in Ceylon, the dzedis erected
in honour of deceased Rahans became so numerous that they threatened
to cover the superficies of the whole country. It was then resolved
that none should be built for Rahans, though it is acknowledged that
they deserve such distinction. The same reason does not exist for a
Tsekiawaday king, who is alone, and appears in the world at but distant
intervals. But all the Rahans that are full of merits are deserving,
after their demise, of all honours, except that of a dzedi.”
When Buddha had finished his instruction, Ananda thought within himself:
Phra, the most excellent among all beings, has just taught me how
to honour dzedis and other religious monuments raised to the glory
of religion; he has pointed out to me the source of merits; he has
indicated to me the sure way to deal with women, when they resort to
our monasteries for the purpose of hearing the preaching of the law,
and, finally, he has declared that there were but four sorts of persons
deserving of the honour of a dzedi after their death. From the tenor of
these instructions, I know with certainty that on this very day Buddha is
to enter the state of Neibban. Unwilling to show his profound affliction
in the presence of his illustrious master, he retired into the hall of
the Malla princes close by, and leaning on the door-bolt, wept bitterly,
and said, “Alas! the most excellent Buddha soon shall be no more. By what
means shall I obtain the three last degrees of perfection? Who shall be
my teacher? To whom shall I henceforth bring water in the morning to
wash the face? Whose feet shall I have to wipe dry? For whom shall I
prepare the place for sitting, and the couch for sleeping? Whose patta
and tsiwaran shall I have to hold ready, and to whom shall I render the
ordinary services?” In the midst of sobs and wailings, he was giving vent
to his deep affliction.
It was not long ere Buddha, not observing the faithful Ananda among the
Rahans, said, “My dear Rahans, where is Ananda?” Having been informed
of all that was taking place, he desired a Rahan to go and call Ananda.
The message having been conveyed rapidly to Ananda, he hastened to come
back into the presence of Buddha, whom he saluted as usual, and then
took his seat. Buddha, addressing him, said, “O Ananda, your tears and
lamentations are to no purpose; do not give yourself up to disquietude;
cease to shed tears. Have I not previously said to you that distance or
death must separate us from the dearest objects? In the body there is a
principle which causes its existence and its preservation as long as the
opposite principle of destruction does not prevail. It is true you have
ministered unto me for many years with all your strength and the most
perfect devotedness. But you shall reap the reward due for so many good
offices. Apply yourself to the exercise of Kamatan, and soon you shall be
freed from the world of passions and the influence of mutability.”
Addressing then with a gentle voice all the Rahans present, Buddha began
to praise Ananda, saying, “Beloved Rahans, Ananda[19] has been during
many years my faithful and devoted attendant. He has served him who
is worthy to receive all offerings, and is, moreover, acquainted with
all the laws of the physical and moral world. Ananda is a true sage;
he is well versed in all that relates to my person; he can show to the
male Rahans and female Rahans, as well as to the crowds, the time, the
moment, and the place to approach my person and pay the honours due to
me. Ananda is graceful and full of amiability amidst all other Rahans. He
has heard and seen much; he shines in the midst of the assembly. Rahans
will come from a distance, on hearing all that is said of his graces, to
see and admire him; and all will agree in saying that what they observe
surpasses all that they had heard. Ananda will make inquiries regarding
their health; they, on hearing his words, will be filled with joy. He
will then keep silent, and they will retire with an increased desire
to listen to him. He will say to the female Rahans that will come to
see him, ‘Sisters, observe the eight precepts.’ On hearing Ananda, they
will be exceedingly glad. He will then remain silent, and his silence
will grieve them. The laymen and laywomen on hearing all that is said of
Ananda shall come to contemplate him. He will say to them, ‘Adhere to the
three precious things; observe the five great commands; keep the four
days of worship of each month; pay honour and respect to your father and
mother; feed the Rahans and pounhas that observe strictly the law.’ They
will all be delighted at hearing his instructions. His silence will leave
them earnestly wishing to hear something else from him. Beloved Rahans,
Ananda much resembles a Tsekiawaday king. Like him, he is exceedingly
beautiful, amiable, and lovely; he can fly through the air; he can teach
the people and justly administer the law.”
When Buddha had finished his discourse, Ananda said: “O illustrious
Buddha, it is not becoming your dignity that you should go to Neibban
near such a small city, and in a place almost surrounded by forests. We
are in the neighbourhood of the great countries of Tsampa, Thawattie,
Thakila, and Baranathee. The kings, pounhas, noblemen, and people of
those countries are full of love and reverence for your person. They
could render greater honours to your mortal remains.” “Ananda,” replied
Buddha, “do not call the country of Koutheinaron a small country. I have
on former occasions often been to this place and extolled its riches
and crowded population. This is the place where it is most becoming I
should enter into the state of Neibban. Go now to the city and inform
the Malla princes that to-morrow morning, at the break of the day, the
most excellent Buddha shall go to Neibban. Let them not have reason to
complain hereafter that they have not received a timely information of
this event, nor say that they had not had a last opportunity to come
and see me.” Ananda, putting on his dress and carrying his patta, went
alone to the city. At that moment the princes were assembled in the hall
to deliberate upon some important affair. As soon as the message was
delivered, the princes, with their wives, their sons, and daughters,
began to cry aloud, “Alas! the most excellent Buddha is too soon going to
Neibban.” Some appeared with dishevelled hair; some lifted their hands to
their foreheads; some, crying out and wailing, threw themselves on the
ground, rolling and tossing about, as persons whose hands and feet had
been cut off. They all set out in haste with Ananda at their head towards
the place where Buddha was lying on his couch. All of them were admitted
into the presence of Buddha and paid their respects to him.
In the city of Koutheinaron lived a certain personage holding heretical
opinions.[20] His name was Thoubat, a pounha of the Oudeitsa race, who
wore a white dress. His mind, hitherto uncertain and unfixed, hesitated
between the belief in Buddha’s doctrines and his former opinions.
Having been informed that there was a Buddha in the neighbourhood, and
that he was soon to go to Neibban, he desired to see him, and, in his
conversation, to clear up his doubts. His age was not great, but he
enjoyed such a renown for learning that he was called the master of
masters. Thoubat went at first to Ananda, stated to him that he felt
irresistibly a strong attachment to, and a sincere affection for, the
great Buddha, that his mind was preyed upon by doubts and uncertainties,
and that he hoped a short conversation with the great Gaudama would
relieve his mind from its present painful situation. Ananda, fearing
that such a conversation might be much protracted, refused to admit
Thoubat into the presence of Buddha, representing his extreme weakness
and inability to speak much. Thoubat made several entreaties, but with
no better success. Ananda persisted in his refusal to introduce him.
Buddha, hearing some noise, inquired from Ananda what was the cause
of the noise he heard. Ananda related to him all that had taken place
between him and Thoubat. “Allow him to come,” said Buddha; “I wish to
hear him. Soon he shall be enlightened and convinced. I have come to this
spot for the very purpose of preaching to him the most perfect law.”
Ananda returned to Thoubat, and said to him, “The most excellent Buddha
desires to see you.” Thoubat, full of joy, arrived in the presence of
Buddha, saluted him, and, sitting at a becoming distance, said to him,
“Do the six celebrated teachers, who are always attended by a great
number of disciples, who are famous amidst other doctors, know all laws?
Are there some laws they are unacquainted with? or do they teach some
doctrines which they but partially understand?” Buddha having gently
reminded Thoubat that such questions were not suitable and unprofitable,
said, “O Thoubat, I will preach to you the law; listen with attention to
my words, and treasure them in your heart. No heretic has ever known the
right ways that lead to perfection, and, in the religion of heretics,
no one can obtain the state of Thautapan, and become a Rahanda. But in
my religion there are found persons that have become Thautapan, Anagam,
&c., and finally Rahandas. Except in my religion, the twelve great
disciples who practise the highest virtues, and stir up the world to
free it from its state of indifference, are not to be met with. They are
not to be found among heretics. O Thoubat, from the age of twenty-nine
years up to this moment, I have striven to obtain the supreme and perfect
science, and I have spent to that end fifty-one years, following the
ways of Ariahs, that lead to Neibban.” On hearing these words, Thoubat,
overwhelmed with joy, endeavoured, by several similitudes, to express to
his great instructor the pleasure he had derived from his preaching. “O
most illustrious Buddha,” added he, “now I believe in you, and adhere
to all your doctrines; I wish to become a Rahan. But it is a custom
with you, not to admit to the dignity of Rahan a heretic who is newly
converted, except after a four months’ probation. I wish to remain during
that period as a probationer, and beg afterwards to be admitted among
the Rahans.” Buddha, who knew the fervour of the new convert, desired to
dispense in his case with the four months’ probation. He called Ananda
and commanded him to admit Thoubat to the dignity of Rahan. Ananda
forthwith led Thoubat into a becoming place, poured water over his head,
whilst repeating certain forms of prayer, shaved his head and beard, put
on him the tsiwaran, and taught him to repeat the formulas whereby he
professed to take refuge in Buddha, the law, and the assembly. When this
was done, Thoubat was conducted into the presence of Phra, who desired
he should be promoted to the dignity of Patzin, and instructed in the
knowledge of Kamatan. Thoubat went into the garden, walked for a while,
and soon learnt the forty Kamatans. He was the last convert Buddha made,
before he entered the state of Neibban.
Buddha, calling Ananda and all the Rahans, said to them: “When I shall
have disappeared from the state of existence, and be no longer with you,
do not believe that the Buddha has left you, and ceased to dwell among
you. You have the Thoots and Abidama which I have preached to you; you
have the discipline and regulations of the Wini. The law, contained in
those sacred instructions, shall be your teacher after my demise. By the
means of the doctrines which I have delivered to you, I will continue to
remain amongst you. Do not, therefore, think or believe that the Buddha
has disappeared or is no more with you.”
A little while after, Buddha, addressing the Rahans, gave them some
instructions regarding the attention and respect the Rahans were to pay
to each other. “As long,” said he, “as I have been with you, you have
called one another by the name of Awoothau, but after my demise you will
no more make use of such a title. Let those who are more advanced in
dignity and in years of profession call those that are their inferiors by
their names, that of their family, or some other suitable appellation;
let the inferiors give to their superiors the title of Bante. Ananda, let
a Rahan Hauna be visited with the punishment of Brahma.” “But what is
this punishment?” replied Ananda. “The Rahan Hauna is indiscreet in his
speech; he says indiscriminately all that comes into his head. Let the
other Rahans avoid speaking with him, or even rebuking him. This is the
punishment of Brahma.”
Addressing again all the assembled Rahans, Buddha said to them[21]: “My
beloved Bickus, if among you there be one that has any doubt respecting
Buddha, the law, the assembly, the ways of perfection, and the practice
of virtues, let him come forward and make known his doubts, that I may
clear them up.” The Rahans remained all silent. The same question was
three times repeated, and three times the Rahans continued silent. Then
he added: “My beloved Bickus, if you have any respect for my memory,
communicate your dispositions towards my person and doctrines to the
other Rahans whom you shall hereafter meet with.” The Rahans still
remained silent. Ananda then said to Buddha: “O most exalted Buddha,
is it not truly surprising that among so many not one should be found
entertaining any doubt respecting your doctrine, but all should feel
so strong an attachment to it?” “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “I knew well
that doubt and false doctrine could never be harboured in the soul of
a true Rahan. Supposing a number of five hundred Rahans, and taking
the one who is the last in merits, he is at least a Thautapan, and as
such there is no demerit in him that could lead him to one of the four
states of punishment; his heart is fixed upon the first way that leads to
perfection, and he constantly strives to advance to the three superior
ways of perfection. No doubt, therefore, and no false doctrine can ever
be found in a true Rahan.”
After a short pause, Buddha, addressing the Rahans, said: “Beloved
Bickus, the principle of existence and mutability carries along with it
the principle of destruction. Never forget this; let your minds be filled
with this truth; to make it known to you, I have assembled you.”
These are the last words Buddha ever uttered. As a man who is about
to undertake a long journey takes an affectionate farewell of every
one of his relatives and friends, and fondly embraces successively all
of them, Buddha likewise wished to visit for the last time the abodes
wherein his soul had so amorously dwelt during his long and lofty mental
peregrinations. He entered into the first state of dzan, then the second,
the third, and the fourth: he ascended therefrom successively to the
first, second, third, and fourth immaterial seats. When he had reached
the fourth state, which is the farthest boundary of existence, Ananda
asked the Rahan Anoorouda whether Phra had completed his Neibban. “Not
as yet,” answered Anoorouda, “but he has reached the last stage of
existence.” A little while after, Buddha had entered into the perfect
state of Neibban.[22]
Thus in the first watch of the night he had preached the law to the Malla
princes; at midnight he had converted the heretic Thoubat; and in the
morning watch he had instructed the Rahans. It was not quite full dawn of
the day when he entered the state of Neibban, in the 148th year of the
Eetzana era, on the full moon of Katson, on a Tuesday, a little before
daybreak.[23]
Not to leave out a single particular connected with the epochs of
Gaudama’s life, the Burmese author sums up all that has already been
related on this subject, by stating that he was conceived in his
mother’s womb, in the year 67 of the Eetzana era, under the constellation
Outtarathan, and born in 68, under the constellation Withaka, on a
Friday. He went into the solitude in the year 96, on a Monday. He became
a Buddha in the year 103, on a Wednesday (Withaka). In the year 148,
on the full moon of Katson, on a Tuesday (Withaka), he expired; on the
12th, after the full moon of the same month, his corpse was laid on the
funeral pile.
At the very moment he had yielded up the ghost, a tremendous earthquake
was felt throughout the whole world; it took place with such a violence
that it filled every one with fear and trembling, and caused their hair
to stand on end.