Next to the conversion of Thoubat, follows an interesting instruction

delivered to Ananda and the assembled Rahans. Here Buddha displays the

superiority of his lofty mind. Clinging to the principles of abstract

truth, he has no regard for persons or things. This material world, man

included, is, in his opinion, a mere illusion, exhibiting nothing real,

but only an uninterrupted succession of changes, which exclude the idea

of immutable fixity. He apparently has no wish to infuse consolation

into the afflicted souls of his disciples. He supposes that, being all

initiated in the knowledge of truth, and having entered in the ways of

perfection, they must know that the person of a Buddha is subjected to

the law of mutability, and, therefore, to destruction or to death. He

says plainly to them that his absence from among them is a circumstance

scarcely worth noticing: by his doctrines contained in the Abidama, the

Thoots and the Wini, he will ever be present among them. In these sacred

writings they will possess something more valuable than his material

being: they will have and enjoy the truth that was in him, and that he

has communicated to them by his oral instructions. He earnestly invites

them to lay stress only on that doctrine which they have received from

him.

It is hardly necessary to notice a serious anachronism made by the

unskilful compiler of this legend on this occasion. We know that Buddha

wrote nothing, and that the compilation of his doctrines with its

division in three distinct portions was the work of the three great

councils held after Gaudama’s death or Neibban. How could the dying

originator of Buddhism speak of compilations of his doctrines, which were

not as yet existing?

[21] Buddha’s zeal is not chilled in the least by the cold of approaching

death. His boundless knowledge enabled him at a glance to obtain the most

intimate acquaintance with the inward dispositions of his disciples’

minds. If, therefore, he asked them three successive times whether

they entertained doubts on any doctrinal points, it was not to satisfy

himself that their faith was firm and unshaken. He wished to make them

conscious of a fact which was felt and clearly understood by every one

in particular, but was not as yet fully appreciated by the universality

of his disciples. Every individual in particular was well aware of the

unwavering dispositions of his mind respecting Buddha’s teachings, but

no one ever had the opportunity of ascertaining that all his brethren

had the same firmness of belief. On this solemn occasion they witnessed

the most comforting sight of a perfect unity of faith in all the members

of the assembly. Buddha revealed then one great truth which no one but

himself could be acquainted with. A true Rahan, says he, has entered at

last in the first way that leads to perfection; he is, therefore, no more

exposed to the danger of wavering in his belief; he knows enough of truth

to adhere firmly to it, and is enabled to prosecute safely his researches

after what is still unknown to him. Every member of the assembly is a

true believer, more or less advanced in the knowledge of the law, it is

true, but at least he is conscious of his being in the right way. On

this subject no doubt subsists in his mind; he adheres to Buddha and his

doctrines as to the centre of truth, and never thinks for a moment to

question the veracity of his doctor, or to call in doubt any portion of

his instructions.

The last words of Buddha to the assembled Bickus are designed to remind

them of the great and vital principle he has endeavoured to inculcate

in their minds during the forty-five years of his preaching, viz., that

change and mutability are acting upon all that exists, and are inherent

in all parts of nature. This world, therefore, offering but an endless

vicissitude of forms, that appear and disappear, has no real existence.

It is an illusion from beginning to end. As long as man remains tied up,

so to speak, to nature, he is carried away by the ever-acting principle

of change: nowhere can he find any rest or fixity; he quits one existence

to pass into another; he leaves one form to assume a different one. What

happens to man befalls all other parts of nature. From this notion,

Buddha infers that there is nothing existing but _name_ and _form_. There

is no substance in nature, and therefore no reality. So much stress

was laid by Buddha on this capital principle that he bequeathed it, as

his last Will, to his disciples: he wished that they should ever bear

in their minds and remember that he came among them for the purpose of

making them thoroughly acquainted with it. From this cardinal point he

inferred the chief conclusions that form his religious system, viz.,

metempsychosis, the contempt of the world, and Neibban. By the law of

endless changes, man is hurried from one state into another, or from one

form of being into another form. Where is the wise man that could love a

world, or an existence therein, when he finds no substance, no reality in

it? Is he not induced, or rather compelled, to search after a state in

which he can find fixity, reality, and truth, or at least an exemption

from the harassing condition of perpetual migration from one state into

another?

The reader who has been almost born with and educated in theistic

notions, and who sees in the world nothing but what has been created by

a supreme and all-wise Being, is at a loss to understand how a grave

philosopher, as undoubtedly Buddha was, gifted with great powers for

observing, arguing, discussing, and inferring conclusions, could have

fallen into errors so glaring and so contrary to his reason. That we

might properly appreciate the efforts of such a genius, and have some

correct ideas about his process of arguing, we must divest ourselves of

the knowledge supplied to us by revelation, and descend to the level

occupied by the founder of Buddhism. Unacquainted with a first cause,

or with the existence of a Supreme Being, he studies nature as he finds

it. What does he see in it? Perpetual changes, endless vicissitudes.

The form that he perceives to-day has undergone some change on the

following day. Everything about him grows, reaches a certain point, and

then falls into decay. He finds nothing that stands always in the same

condition. Hence he proclaims the great law of mutability pervading all

nature, and concludes that all that we feel, see, or hear, is illusion

and deception, &c.; deprived of all reality, fixity, and substance. His

philosophical mind is not satisfied with such a discovery. He pants after

truth and reality, which are not to be found here. He feels that he

must disentangle himself from the condition of illusion and deception.

But where is reality and fixity to be found? Beyond all, that exists in

Neibban.

[22] The epoch of Gaudama’s death is a point on which the various

nations professing Buddhism do not agree. The Cingalese, Burmese, and

Siamese annals place that event somewhat before the middle of the sixth

century before the Christian era. The difference of dates is but of

a few years, and is so inconsiderable as not to be worth notice. The

Thibetans, and, as a consequence, the Mongolians with the Chinese, place

that event several hundred years previous to the epoch just mentioned.

Notwithstanding this discrepancy, it seems difficult not to adopt the

chronology of the southern Buddhists. The _savans_ in Europe, who have

bestowed a considerable degree of attention on this interesting subject,

give a decided preference to the opinion of the former.

We have not to depend solely on the chronological tables of kings,

supplied by the Hindus, for settling this point, but fortunately we

are put indirectly by Greek writers in possession of a fixed and

well-established epoch, from which we can take with a sufficient degree

of certainty our departure for arriving at a satisfactory conclusion.

After the death of Alexander the Great, Seleucus, one of his lieutenants,

obtained for his share all the provinces situated east of the Euphrates,

in which the Indian conquered territories were included. Seleucus, at

first in person, and next by an ambassador, came in contact with a

powerful Indian king, named Chandragupta, who had the seat of his empire

at Palibotra or Pataliputra. This intercourse took place about 310 B.C.

The Hindu chronological tables mention the name of this prince as well

as that of his grandson, called Athoka, who, according to the testimony

of the Burmese authors, ascended the throne of Palibotra two hundred

and eighteen years after Gaudama’s death. We may suppose that Athoka

reigned in or about 270 or 280 B.C. These two periods added together will

give but a sum of five hundred years. There will remain a difference of

only forty years, for which it is not easy to account with sufficient

precision, unless we suppose that the reign of Athoka began earlier

than is generally admitted. Cunningham has given very strong reasons

for fixing the period of Gaudama’s death sixty-six years later than the

usual one, hitherto generally admitted, 543; that is to say, in the

year 477 B.C. This new epoch enables us to adhere at once with perfect

safety to the computation above related, and does away with the small

discrepancy of a few years that has been mentioned. Tradition and ancient

inscriptions leave almost no doubt upon this important point.

Our legend is positive in stating that Gaudama died under the reign

of Adzatathat, as will hereafter be seen. But the Hindu chronologists

place the reign of that monarch about 250 or 260 years before that of

Chandragupta, who, as stated, was a contemporary of Seleucus Nicator. We

have, therefore, the combined authority of both foreigners and natives

for admitting the chronology of the southern Buddhists respecting

the epoch of Gaudama’s death, in preference to that of the northern

Buddhists, and for fixing that event during the first part of the sixth

century before the Christian era, or rather sixty-six years later, in the

beginning of the fourth part of the fifth century.

[23] What is Neibban, the end a true Buddhist ever longs for throughout

his great struggles in the practice of virtue and his constant efforts

for attaining the knowledge of truth, which he finally reaches when he

has become perfect? The writer confesses at once his inability to answer

satisfactorily this question, because Buddhists do not agree among

themselves in explaining the nature of the state of Neibban. From the

earliest period of their religion we see the Brahmins keenly taunting

their opponents for the discordance of their opinions on a subject of the

utmost importance—a subject which had ever been prominent in Buddha’s

teachings, and held up as the only one worthy of the most earnest and

ardent desires, the fittest reward of the generous and extraordinary

exertions of a perfected being, and the final state in which his soul,

wearied after such a prolonged spiritual warfare, longed to rest for

ever. A certain school of Buddhists has maintained that Neibban implied

the destruction of the state of being, and consequently complete

annihilation. This opinion is at once practically rejected by the portion

of the southern Buddhists, who are not so well acquainted with the more

philosophical part of their creed. They assert that a perfected being,

after having reached Neibban, or having arrived at the end of his last

existence, retains his individuality, but they utterly fail in their

attempts at explaining the situation and condition of a being in Neibban.

At a later period the opinion about a supreme Buddha, uncreated, eternal,

and infinite, began to gain ground, and modified to a considerable extent

on many points the views of the earlier Buddhists. Neibban, according to

the comparatively modern school, is but an absorption into the supreme

and infinite Buddha. This opinion so much approximates to that of the

Brahmins that we may say it is almost the same. The means of obtaining

perfection are somewhat different in both systems, but the end to be

obtained is precisely the same.

Setting aside idle speculations, let us try to form some idea of Neibban

by explaining the meaning of the term, and the definition such as we find

it in the Burmese writings.

The word Neibban, in Sanscrit Nirvana, according to its etymology, means

what is no more agitated, what is in a state of perfect calm. It is

composed of the negative prefix _nir_ and _va_, which means to be set in

motion, as the wind. It implies the idea of rest in opposition to that

of motion or existence. To be in the state of Neibban is therefore to

be carried beyond the range of existence, as understood by Buddhists;

there can be no longer migration from one state of being to another.

This point is admitted by all sects of Buddhists. To the idea of Neibban

is often attached that of extinction, as a lamp which ceases to burn

and whose light becomes extinct when the oil is exhausted. The sum of

existence being exhausted, a being ceases to be or to move within the

range of existence; he becomes extinct relatively, at least to all kind

of existences we have a notion of. In conversing with the Buddhists of

Burmah, the writer has observed that the ideas of rest and extinction

are invariably coupled with the notion of Neibban. In their rough

attempt at explaining the inexplicable nature of that state they had

recourse to several comparisons intended to convey to the mind that they

believed Neibban to be a state of undisturbed calm and a never-ending

cessation of existence, at least such as we have an idea of in this

world. When questioned on the situation of Buddha in Neibban, they answer

that they believe him to be in a boundless space or vacuum beyond the

boundaries ever reached by other beings, alone by himself, enjoying,

if the expression be correct, a perfect rest, unconcerned about this

world, having no further relation with all existing beings. They assert

that he is to remain for ever a stranger to all sensations of either

pain or pleasure. But it must be borne in mind that this is the popular

opinion rather than the philosophical one. Talking one evening with a

well-informed Burman on Neibban, the light of a lamp that was burning on

the writer’s table happened to die away for want of oil. The Buddhist,

with an exulting tone of voice, exclaimed, “Do not ask any more what

Neibban is; what has happened to the lamp just now, tells you what

Neibban is. The lamp is extinct because there is no more oil in the

glass. A man is in Neibban at the very moment that the principle or cause

of existence is at an end or entirely exhausted.” How far such an answer

can satisfy a superficial mind like that of a half-civilised Burman, it

is difficult to say; but it appears certain that he does not carry his

researches nor pursue his inquiries beyond these narrow boundaries. Any

further attempt to penetrate deeper into the darkness of Neibban is, in

his opinion, presumptuous and rash.

Buddhist metaphysicians in India, in their foolish efforts to survey

that _terra incognita_, have originated several opinions that have had

their supporters in the various schools of philosophy. The more ancient

philosophers or heads of schools, in attempting to give an analysis

of a thing they knew nothing about, approximated to the opinion that

Neibban is nothing more or less than a complete or entire annihilation.

Following the course of arguments, and admitting their premises, one is

reluctantly compelled to come to the awful conclusion that the final end

of a perfected Buddha is the destruction of his being, or annihilation.

This opinion is still further corroborated by the short exposition of

Buddhist metaphysics at the end of this volume. The crudest materialism

is openly and distinctly professed. There is nothing in man distinct from

the six senses. The faculty of perceiving the object they come in contact

with is inherent in their nature. The sixth sense, that is to say, the

heart, has the power of perceiving ideas, that is to say, things that

have no form or shape. But this power is not distinct from the living

sense; it disappears when the life of that sense is extinct, or, in other

terms, when the heart is destroyed. To the holders of such an opinion the

cessation of existence, the going out of the circle of existences, by the

destruction of kan, or the influence of merits and demerits, must be and

cannot but be complete annihilation.

From a long period the plain sense of the masses of believers,

unprejudiced by sophistical bias, revolted against such a doctrine, and

at once rejected the horrible conclusion arrived at by former disputants.

No one in practice openly admits that Neibban and annihilation are

synonymous terms. If their views can be properly understood, we may infer

from what they say that a being in Neibban retains his individuality,

though isolated from all that is distinct from self. He sees the abstract

truth, or truth as it is in itself, divested of the material forms

under which we in our present state of existence but imperfectly see

it. Passions and affections are not to be found in such a being; his

position, in truth, can scarcely be understood and still less expressed

by us, who can never come in communication with an object but through our

passions and affections. We know that there exists a spiritual substance,

but we can have no distinct idea of it. We vouch for its existence by

what we observe of its operations, but it is impossible for us to explain

its nature. It is not, therefore, surprising that Buddhists should be

at a loss to account for the state in which a perfected being is when

in Neibban. The idea of a state of apathy or rest must be understood

as expressing simply a situation quite opposite to that of motion, in

which all beings are as long as they are within the pale of existences.

If it be admitted that the perfected being retains in Neibban his

individuality, it must be inferred that he becomes, as it were, merged

into the abstract truth in which he lives and rests for ever. But we must

distinctly state anew that this view is in opposition to the doctrines of

the earliest Buddhists, and the philosophical principles and inferences

maintained as genuine. This contradiction illustrates the truth of a

remark made above, that error can never entirely obliterate from man’s

mind the knowledge of certain fundamental truths, which are almost

constitutive of his moral being.

Let us come now to a definition of Neibban translated from Pali by the

Burmans. Neibban is the end of all existences, the exemption from the

action of _kan_, _i.e._, the good or bad influence produced by merits or

demerits; of _Tsit_, _i.e._, the principle of all volitions, desires,

and passions; of the seasons, and of taste or sensations. What means

this rather curious, not to say almost unintelligible, definition? To

understand it the reader must be aware that _kan_ is the principle which

causes all beings to move incessantly from one existence into another,

from a state of happiness to one of unhappiness, from a position where

merits are acquired into another where further merits are to be obtained

and greater proficiency in perfection secured, from a state of punishment

or demerits into a worse one, &c. _Kan_ may be called the soul of

transmigration, the hidden spring of all the changes experienced by an

existing being. In Neibban the law of _kan_ is destroyed, and therefore

there are no more changes or transmigrations.

By _Tsit_ is understood the principle of all volitions and desires.

Buddhist metaphysicians, always fond of divisions and classifications,

reckon one hundred and twenty _Tsits_. Some are the root of all demerits,

and their opposites are the principles of merits. Some have for object

matter this material world; others have for object the immaterial world,

or, as I believe, ideas and things that have no form. The last of tsits,

and of course the most perfect, is entire fixity. This is the last stage

ever to be reached by a perfected being in the world of existences. One

step further, and he has reached the undisturbed shores of Neibban. In

that latter state there is no more operation of the mind or of the heart;

or at least there is no intellectual working, such as we conceive it in

our actual condition.

The word _Udoo_, or season, is evidently used for designating a

revolution of nature. The meaning is obvious, and affords no difficulty.

In Neibban there is neither nature nor revolutions of nature. Neibban, if

a state it be, lies in vacuum or space far beyond the extensive horizon

that encircles the world or worlds, or systems of nature.

The word _Ahara_, which literally means taste, is intended to designate

all sensations acquired through the senses. By means of the senses,

indeed, we obtain perceptions and acquire knowledge; but the perfected

being having come to the possession of universal science, no further

knowledge is needed; the senses are, therefore, useless. The senses,

moreover, are the appendage of our nature, as it is during its

existences. Neibban putting an end to further existences, it destroys

also the constituent parts or portions of our being.

Admitting that the above definition of Neibban is a correct one, and that

it has been understood in a purely Buddhistic sense, we may conclude

that in that state there is no more _influence_, and consequently no

transmigration, no volition of the mind, no desires of the heart, no

materiality, and no sensations. The difficulty as to whether Neibban

is annihilation seems all but entirely and completely solved. There is

another way of arriving at a similar conclusion. Let us ascertain what

are the constituent parts of an intelligent being, and then inquire

whether these parts are entirely destroyed and annihilated in Neibban.

In an intelligent being, according to all doctors, we find materiality,

sensations, perceptions, consciousness, and intellect. These five

aggregates constitute a thinking being. These, assert the same doctors,

do not exist in Neibban; they are destroyed. One word more and the

question would be settled; but that word has not been, at least to my

knowledge, ever distinctly uttered. It is probable that these five

aggregates or component parts are, in the opinion of many, the conditions

of existence such as we now understand it. But it would be too hasty to

conclude that a being under different conditions of existence could not

retain his individuality though deprived of these five component parts.

Buddhists, as already said, have very imperfect notions of a spiritual

substance. It is not surprising, therefore, that they cannot express

themselves in a manner more distinct, precise, and intelligible when they

treat of subjects so abstruse and difficult. In practice they admit the

existence of something distinct from matter, and surviving in man after

the destruction of the material portion of his being; but their attempts

at giving a satisfactory explanation of the nature of that surviving

individuality have always proved abortive. In their process of arguing

the learned reject such an admission.

The question, as may be inferred from the foregoing lines, if considered

in the light of purely theoretical notions, is philosophically left

little open to discussion, though it will probably ever remain without

a perfect solution. But the logical inferences to be deduced from the

principles of genuine Buddhism inevitably lead to the dark, cold, and

horrifying abyss of annihilation. If examined from a practical point of

view, that is to say, taking into account the opinions of the masses of

Buddhists, the difficulty may be considered as resolved too, but in an

opposite sense.

[24] The lengthened description of Buddha’s funeral has suggested the

idea of laying before the reader a brief account of the ceremonies

observed by Buddhists in Burmah, when funeral rites are performed on the

mortal remains of Talapoins, who have been eminent in the profession and

have spent their whole lives in monasteries. By comparing the following

account with the narrative of the legend, we will see that the rubrics of

the funeral service, in our days, are nearly the same as those existing

at the origin of Buddhism.

When a Buddhist recluse has given up the ghost, the corpse is carefully

and diligently washed by laymen, or the younger inmates of the monastery.

A large incision is made in the abdomen; its contents are taken out

and buried in the earth without any ceremony being observed on the

occasion. The empty cavity is filled up with ashes, bran, or some other

desiccative substances for preventing putrefaction. The corpse is then

tightly wrapt with bands or swathes of a white colour from head to foot,

and then covered with the yellow habit of the profession. Sometimes a

coat of black varnish is put over and then leaves of gold, so that the

whole body is gilt. It is afterwards bound all over with ropes tightened

as much as possible, so as to bring it within the narrowest dimensions.

When thus prepared, the corpse is placed in an open coffin. The coffin is

made of the trunk of a tree, rudely hollowed, and often so imperfectly

scooped out as not to afford sufficient room for the corpse. In the

middle of the interior part of the coffin, an opening, about two inches

in diameter, has been made, to afford issue to the humours that may ooze

out through the swathes. The coffin is unceremoniously laid on the floor

of the monastery. A bamboo, 7 or 8 feet long, is procured; one of its

ends is inserted in the hole made in the coffin, and the other is sunk

into the ground below; it is the channel through which the humours flow

into the earth. After a lapse of ten or twelve days, the body is supposed

to be quite dry; they set about putting a covering over the coffin and

effectually shutting it.

Whilst residing at Tavoy, I wished, on a certain day, to go and witness

all the particulars observed on such occasions. A most opportune event

favoured the prosecution of my wishes. A Talapoin of my acquaintance had

died a fortnight before, after thirty years of profession. His body, laid

in the coffin, was to be for ever concealed from human sight. I went

into the monastery, where I met a large party of the brethren of the

deceased, who had assembled for the ceremony. Most of them were known to

me. My reception was at once kind and cordial. Great was my surprise at

seeing, instead of the grief and mourning which the circumstance seemed

to demand, laughing, talking, and amusement, going on at a rate which

is to be called scandalous. No one appeared to take the least notice

of the deceased, whose corpse was lying at our feet. A momentary stop

was put to the indecorous behaviour of the assistants by the appearance

of two stout carpenters bringing a board four or five inches thick,

designed for the cover. They vainly tried to fit it in its place; the

hollow of the coffin was neither broad nor deep enough for holding the

corpse, though reduced to the smallest proportions. The operation was

not a very easy one to bring the board in contact with the sides of the

coffin, despite the resistance that was to be offered by the corpse. The

carpenters were determined not to be disappointed. At the two ends and

in the middle of the coffin, ropes were passed several times round it

with the utmost tension, in such a manner as to have six or seven coils

in the same place. Enormous wooden wedges were inserted right and left

in three places between the sides and the coils. On these wedges the

workmen hammered with their whole strength during about twenty minutes,

to the great amusement of all the bystanders. Each blow of the hammer

lessened the distance between the cover and the brim of the coffin. Every

perceptible success, gained over the latent resisting power, elicited a

burst of applause, and a cheer to the persevering workmen. At last all

resistance being overcome, the cover rested fixedly in its place. It is

needless to add that the corpse inside was but a hideous mass of mangled

flesh and broken bones.

According to the custom observed on such occasions, a rude building was

erected for the purpose of placing therein the mortal remains of the

deceased, until preparations on a grand scale should have been made for

doing honour to the illustrious departed individual. That building, as

well as those made for a similar purpose, is but a temporary edifice

raised for the occasion, and made of bamboos with an attap roof. In

the centre of that large bungalow was erected a kind of estrade, about

twelve feet high, well decorated. The upper part is often gilt, but

always plated with thin metal leaves and tinsels of various colours.

From the sides hang rough drawings, representing animals, monsters of

various kinds, religious subjects, and others, but rarely of great

indecency. Around this estrade are disposed posts, from the top of which

are suspended small flags and streamers of different forms and shapes.

On the summit is arranged a place for the coffin, but the four sides at

that place are about two or three feet higher than the level whereupon

rests the coffin, so that it is concealed entirely from the sight of the

visitors.

Things remained in that state for four months, that is to say, until all

the arrangements had been made for the grand ceremony, the expense of

which is commonly defrayed by voluntary contributions. The arrangements

being all complete, a day was appointed at the sound of gongs, for

burning the corpse of the pious recluse. At noon of that day, the whole

population of the town flocked to a vast and extensive plain beyond

the old wall and ditch in the north. Men and women, dressed in their

finest attire, swarmed in every direction, selecting the most suitable

and convenient situations for enjoying a commanding view of the _fête_.

The funeral pile occupied nearly the centre of the plain; it was about

fifteen feet high, of a square shape, encased with planks, which gave to

it a neat appearance. It was large at the base, and went on diminishing

in size in the upper part, terminating in a square platform where the

coffin was to be deposited. A small roof, supported on four bamboo posts,

elegantly adorned, overshaded the platform. A huge four-wheeled cart,

decorated in the most fantastic manner, was descried at a distance;

it was drawn by a great number of men, and brought to the foot of the

pile. Upon it was the coffin. Immense cheers, shouts of thousands, had

announced the progress of the cart with its precious relics, as it passed

through the crowd. The coffin was forthwith hoisted on the platform. Mats

were then spread round the pile, whereupon sat numbers of Talapoins,

reciting aloud long formulas in Pali. The devotions being performed,

they rose up and prepared to depart, attended with a retinue of their

disciples, who loaded themselves with the offerings made on the occasion.

These offerings consisted of plantains, cocoa-nuts, sugar-canes, rice,

pillows, mats, mattresses, &c. Masters and disciples returned to their

monasteries with their valuable collections.

The place being cleared, the eyes were all riveted on two large rockets,

placed horizontally, each between two ropes, to which they were connected

by two side rings. One of the ends of the ropes was strongly fixed at

posts behind the rockets, and the other was made as tight as possible at

the foot of the pile. At a given signal, the rockets, emitting smoke,

rushed forward with a loud, hissing, and irregular noise, tremulously

gliding along the ropes, and in an instant penetrating into the interior

of the pile, and setting fire to a heap of inflammable materials, amassed

beforehand for that purpose. In a short while the whole pile was in

a blaze, and soon entirely consumed with the coffin and the corpse.

The bones or half-burnt bits of bones that remained, were carefully

collected, to be subsequently interred in a becoming place.

[25] In the course of this work, allusion is often made to pounhas who

appear to have led a mode of life not altogether the same, but varying

considerably according to circumstances. All the pounhas were doubtless

religious, who practised certain duties not regarded as obligatory by

ordinary people, and lived under certain regulations, which separated

them more or less from society, and distinguished them from those who

followed the ordinary pursuits of life. The difference among them

originated in a sort of religious enthusiasm, which impelled many to

perform penitential deeds of the most cruel and sometimes revolting

nature.

Some of the pounhas are described as living in villages or towns, and

wearing a white dress. In many of their practices they appear to have

approximated to the Buddhist monks, except that in many instances they

married. Others are mentioned as living in a state of complete nakedness,

staying in the midst of filth and dirt. It seems that those whom

Alexander the Great met in some parts of the Punjaub, belonged to this

class. Many of these disgusting fanatics delivered themselves up to cruel

tortures, much in the same way as we see some fakhirs and jogies do even

in our days, and under our eyes. A third class of pounhas affected to

live in lonely places, on high mountains, in small huts made of branches

of trees, and sometimes at the foot of trees, exposed to the inclemency

of the weather. They were hermits. They clothed themselves in the skins

of wild beasts, allowed the hairs of the head to grow to the greatest

length, divided them into several parts which they twisted separately

like a rope, so that, when looking at them, one would have thought that

instead of hairs, several small ropes were hanging down on the back and

the shoulders, giving to them the wildest and most fantastic appearance.

Some of those hermits, famous for their science, attracted round their

persons many pupils eager to acquire science and discipline under them.

Such were the three Kathabas, whom Gaudama converted during the first

year of his public life. Others travelled through the country, exhibiting

themselves in the capacity of preachers and mendicants.

[26] The virtuous and zealous Kathaba was at once convinced of the

absolute necessity of soon holding a meeting of the wisest members of

the assembly, for the purpose of ascertaining, and authoritatively

determining, the genuineness of Buddha’s doctrines. Human passions were

already at work, deforming more or less in various ways the instructions

of the great preacher. Many, laying more stress on their talents than on

the authority of their departed instructor, began to entertain on certain

questions views and opinions evidently at variance with those of Buddha.

The enemies of truth were numerous even during his lifetime, when as

yet overawed by his presence and matchless wisdom. Kathaba sagaciously

foresees that their number and boldness would soon increase to a fearful

extent and threaten the very existence of religion. He was roused to

exertions by such considerations, and on that very moment he resolved to

assemble the elders of the assembly, as soon as convenient after Buddha’s

funeral. He was, it appears, acknowledged by common consent the first

of the disciples. He was entitled to that distinction by the renown

of his abilities before his conversion, and by his great proficiency

under Buddha’s teachings subsequently to that event. But a circumstance

related by Kathaba clearly indicates the intimate familiarity existing

between the master and the disciple, and the unbounded confidence the

former placed in the latter. During a walk, the two friends, if such

an expression be allowed, had entered into a more than usual intimate

communion of thoughts and feelings; the soul of the one had passed into

the person of the other, or rather both souls were blended together, and

united so as to become one in the bosom of a virtuous, high, refined,

sublime, and philosophic friendship. They made an exchange of their

cloaks. Kathaba, by putting on Buddha’s cloak, inherited as it were his

spirit and his authority. Hence his legitimate right to be appointed

president or head of the first council, assembled a little while after

Gaudama’s Neibban.

Our author maintains that the first council was held three months after

Gaudama’s demise. This important step was taken at Radzagio, the capital

of the kingdom of King Adzatathat, who doubtless made use of his royal

power to secure tranquillity during the deliberations of this assembly,

under the presidency of Kathaba. The number of religious that formed the

council is reckoned at five hundred. Its object was, as mentioned by

Kathaba himself, to silence the voice of many who wished to innovate in

religious matters, and follow their own views, instead of the doctrines

of Buddha. They wished to shake off the yoke of authority, and arrange

all things in their own way.

The second general assembly of the Buddhist religious was held one

hundred years later at Wethalie, in the tenth year of the reign of King

Kalathoka, under the presidency of Ratha, who was assisted by seven

hundred religious. The object of this assembly was to regulate several

matters of discipline. It is probable that a spirit of innovation had

reappeared and begun to undermine the strictness of the disciplinary

institutions, threatening to weaken the ties that kept together the

members of the religious body, and deprive it of that halo of sacredness

that had hitherto rendered it an object of so profound and general

esteem, respect and veneration. The council, moreover, revised the canon

of sacred books, and purified it from all the imperfections and spurious

writings that had been embodied in it.

Two hundred and eighteen years after Gaudama’s death, King Damathoka or

Athoka ascended the throne of Palibotra, which was the capital of a vast

and powerful empire. It was in the seventeenth year of that monarch’s

reign that the third and last general assembly was held at Palibotra,

under the presidency of Maugalipata. The last and final revision of

the sacred scriptures was made with the greatest care and labour. The

pious Athoka lent to the decisions of the assembly the influence of the

secular power. The Pittagat, or the collection of the religious books,

such as it now exists, is supposed to be the work of that council. In the

two following chapters, the subject of the councils shall receive the

attention it deserves.

There is a most important fact to be noticed here, which must be

considered as a most remarkable result of the third assembly. It forms

the grandest era in the history of Buddhism, and it is carefully noted

down by our Burmese author. I mean the extraordinary zeal and fervour

which seemed at that time to have simultaneously and powerfully acted

for the bringing about of this mighty but peaceful religious commotion,

that was to be felt, not only in the Indian Peninsula, but far beyond the

valley of Cashmere, the country of Guzerat in the west and north-west,

beyond the snowy ranges of the Himalaya in the north, and the territories

and kingdoms in an eastern direction. King Athoka was then at the height

of his power. His religious zeal induced him to make use of all the vast

resources at his command to favour the development of the comparatively

new religion. During the holding of the council, the religious tempered,

as it were, their zeal, fervour, devotion, and ardour for their religious

creed, in the middle of their conferences. They resolved to propagate

with unremitting zeal the tenets of the holy religion, and extend it all

over the world. The spirit of Gaudama seemed to have been infused into

the soul of every individual religious. His ardent fervour glowed in the

soul of all, who from that period had but one desire, that of extending

the boundaries of their spiritual empire.

This is certainly one of those extraordinary epochs, when the indolent

and apathetic mind of the Hindus, after centuries of a profound

slumbering, seems on a sudden to awake, and, with an unexpected vigour

and youthful energy, bursting forth as a terrific hurricane, brings about

the most astounding revolutions, or commotions, that sweep away with

irresistible power the old political and religious forms, to establish

new ones on the ruins of the former. The religious zeal that seized

on the Buddhists of those days, and impelled them with an unheard-of

resolution to disseminate their doctrines, coupled with the astonishing

success that attended their preachings, forms one of the most prominent

periods in the religious history of the world.

[27] It is not easy to determine with precision in what year occurred the

conversion of King Adzatathat to Buddhism. Though his father Pimpathara

was a zealous Buddhist from the very beginning of the preaching of

Gaudama, his son seems to have kept aloof from the religious movement

that took place in the royal city of Radzagio, within the precincts of

the royal palace, and continued to adhere to the tenets of the ancient

creed. His faith, however, in the hitherto national religion, that is

to say, Brahminism, does not appear to have been deeply seated in his

soul. He was a shrewd, ambitious, and crafty politician; and from what we

know of the beginning of his reign, his political principles were of the

most elastic nature. Even after his conversion to Buddhism, he does not

appear to have scrupled in the least to resort to the most questionable

means for satisfying his ambition. The disputes between the upholders

of the contending systems had, as is often the case, shaken his former

convictions without imparting new ones. Perhaps he remained in that

ambiguous position for a political object. He was glad to place himself

at the head of the malcontents, who, on account of the king’s religious

innovations, must have been numerous. Be that as it may, we see the Crown

Prince of Radzagio receiving with open arms Dewadat, the enemy of Buddha,

espousing his party, and looking upon him as his spiritual adviser.

This occurred about ten or twelve years before Buddha’s death. With the

advice of his new friend, he compassed and effected the destruction of

his father three or four years afterwards, and became king in the seventh

year before Phra’s Neibban. His conversion probably took place after the

death of Dewadat, four or five years subsequent to that event; but it

appears to have been sincere and earnest. His love for Buddha’s person

was so intense that it atoned fully for the harm which, under his name

and protection, Dewadat had endeavoured to inflict on his great relative.

Adzatathat reigned thirty-two years, that is to say, twenty-five years

after Gaudama’s death. Under his reign, the first council was held with

his consent, and a promise to make the decisions of the assembly be

received with respect and strictly attended to. This is the first direct

interference of the secular power in matters of a purely ecclesiastical

nature. Adzatathat was, however, too prudent in his policy to persecute

directly the holders of anti-Buddhistic opinions, who as yet formed the

great mass of the people. He zealously supported the new creed he had

adopted, but he left full liberty to the followers of the pounhas. By the

advice of Kathaba, Adzatathat fixed the beginning of the religious era in

the year of Buddha’s demise. It is the one which is followed by all the

southern Buddhists. It was not the necessity of correcting certain errors

in the calendar which induced the king to adopt that measure, since a

correction had been made a hundred and forty-eight years ago by King

Eetzana with the assistance of a celebrated hermit. A religious motive

alone induced the king to obtemper the solicitations of Kathaba on this

subject, and lay, as the point of departure for the reckoning of years,

the great event of the death of the founder of religion.

The two names of Pimpathara and of his son Adzatathat are indissolubly

connected with the origin of Buddhism and its spread through the Magatha

country. To the first, Gaudama owed much for the extraordinary success

that attended his preachings and the conversion of remarkable personages.

In a country like India, the example of the king must have exerted an

extraordinary influence over the courtiers and the wealthy and powerful

persons. The second rendered no less important services to the cause

of religion, by supporting openly the great Kathaba, the patriarch of

Buddhism, and countenancing the decisions of the first council, which

secured unity among the members of the assembly at the very time that

evil-minded individuals endeavoured to sow the seeds of dissension among

the religious, and upset the fabric which Buddha’s genius and zeal had

just set up. Under the reign of those two sovereigns religion gained a

firm footing in Magatha, and secured for itself an ascendancy which it

retained with various successes for many centuries.

[28] We are without any direct information concerning the history of

Buddhism during the twenty years that elapsed after Gaudama’s death. But

we have allusions made in several places which clearly indicate that

the new religion had to struggle with many difficulties before it could

gain a firm footing in the places lying north of the Ganges. Though they

had been the seat of Buddha’s preachings, though the people had been

intimately acquainted with all his doings, it appears that the pounhas

contrived to thwart to a great extent the results of his labours. At

Kootheinaron, on the very spot rendered illustrious by his death, we have

seen an individual rejoicing at Buddha’s demise, because he would be now

at liberty to act according to his wishes. He was not a solitary instance

of open insubordination, since Kathaba felt that it was necessary, in

order to check the growing evil, to assemble a council three months after

the death of Gaudama. This step does not appear to have produced all

the good effects that were anticipated. The patriarch of the Buddhistic

Church is represented to us as trembling for the safety of the relics.

What could have caused this great anxiety? Doubtless there was a strong

party, either within or without the assembly, which was inimical to the

worship paid to the remains of Buddha, and aimed at procuring their total

destruction. In the relation of Hwen-Thsang the writer has met with

a passage in which mention is made of a period of time when the pure

doctrine alone was held, and of a subsequent period when the worship of

relics would be prevailing. It is not improbable that in this passage

allusion is made to the time when the relics were buried secretly, by the

care of Kathaba, in the neighbourhood of Radzagio, and remained concealed

during two hundred years. The conduct of Kathaba in securing the safety

of the relics reveals an important fact, viz., that there existed from

the earliest days of Buddhism a great antipathy, in a fraction of the

community, against keeping and venerating Buddha’s remains. It created a

schism among the disciples which was never healed up, as the sequel will

show.

[29] In the previous note on Neibban, the writer, having forgotten to

mention the application which the Burmese make of this term to three

distinct objects, supplies here the omission, in the hope that what

follows may enable the reader to come nearer to the true Buddhistic

meaning of Neibban.

There are, say the Buddhist doctors, three kinds of Neibban respecting

the person of Gaudama—the Neibban of _Kiletha_, or passions; the Neibban

of _Khandas_, or supports of the existence of a living being; and the

Neibban of _Datou_, or of the relics.

The first took place at the foot of the gniaong or bodi-tree, when

Gaudama became Buddha. Then, to make use of the language of Buddhists

at that moment, the fifteen hundred passions—that is to say, all

passions—were quieted, extinguished, and for ever put an end to.

The second kind of Neibban happened near the town of Kootheinaron, when

the five Khandas, or the constitutive parts of Gaudama’s being, were

quieted, that is to say, ceased to act, and were absolutely destroyed.

The third kind will take place at the end of the period of five thousand

years, reckoning from the death of Gaudama. This is the period which he

has assigned to the duration of his religion. Then all the relics of

Buddha that will be still existing will be miraculously congregated on

the spot where stood the tree Bodi. After having been the centre of the

display of several extraordinary wonders, they will be consumed by a fire

that is to come out of them. They will disappear and vanish for ever, as

the flame that has consumed them.

The idea suggested to us by the application of the word Neibban to these

three objects is that of a cessation of action, cessation of existence,

and cessation of being. Indeed, it is impossible not to see in the

meaning of this word the horrifying idea of absolute annihilation. The

writer frankly avows that he has been, during many years, unwilling to

adopt a conclusion which the obvious meaning of the words point out

in a clear manner. He hoped that a deeper insight into the system of

Buddhism would lead him to a conclusion more consonant with reason. But

he has been completely disappointed in his expectations. By what process

of arguing has the founder of Buddhism arrived to such a despairing

terminus? How has he been led into that horrible abyss? How has he

contrived to silence the voice of conscience, and set aside the clearest

innate notions of the human mind? Gaudama took his departure from a

true principle, viz.: that there are miseries in this world, attending

the condition of all beings moving within the circle of existences. But

ignorant of the real cause that has imported miseries into this world, he

never could discover the way by which man can convert them to a useful

and beneficial result. He declared that all the efforts of a wise man

ought to converge towards one point, that of freeing himself from all the

states of existence. The four meggas or ways to perfection lead to that

great result. By science, connected with the practice of virtue, the wise

man frees himself from all passions, which are the real causes which make

a being move in the circle of existences. When they are not subdued but

exterminated, there is no longer a cause that impels man into another

existence. The end of a being has come. When we speak of the end of a

being, we understand its complete and entire destruction, or, in other

terms, its Neibban. Nothing remains of him. The materialistic principles

of genuine Buddhism forbid us to think of a soul or spiritual substance

surviving the destruction of the terrestrial portion of man’s being.

When Gaudama unfolds his precepts and maxims for guiding man in the

acquisition of science and the destruction of his passions, he elicits

the admiration, nay, the astonishment of the reader, at the sight of the

profound knowledge of human nature which he displays. But this feeling

soon gives place to another of pity, sadness, and horror, when one sees

that he has been led to the brink of Neibban.

[30] Kathaba speaks of the Pitagat or collection of the scriptures as

of a compilation that was to be put in writing for better securing its

fixity and permanency, and preventing, as far as human wisdom could

reach, the introduction of new and heterodox doctrines. I feel inclined

to believe that this expression is put into the mouth of the patriarch,

and that in all likelihood he never uttered it. It is probable that,

during the first ages of Buddhism, the doctrines were not put in writing,

but orally transmitted. For supporting this apparently incredible

assertion, we have the testimony of the authors of the Cingalese

collection, who distinctly state that, during more than two hundred

years after the introduction of the religion in Ceylon, tradition was

the only vehicle for transmitting the contents of the Pitagat. Moreover,

it is by no means certain that the inhabitants of the Irrawaddy valley

possessed a copy of the sacred scriptures previous to the voyage of

Buddhagosa from Thaton to Ceylon in the beginning of the fifth century

of our era. He went to that island for the express purpose of making a

copy of the Pitagat, and bringing it over to his countrymen. Be that as

it may, the question on this subject is far from being settled. It well

deserves the attention of the learned. A satisfactory solution may throw

a much wanted light upon the history of early Buddhism. When we consider

that Maheinda, the son of the mighty and pious Athoka, was the head of

the mission, which, after the termination of the third council, went

to preach religion in Ceylon, it is impossible not to suppose that he

would have brought over with him a copy of the collection of the sacred

scriptures, had that collection been put in writing at the time that he

left Pataliputra on his pious errand.

[31] The collection of the Buddhist scriptures is divided into three

parts, called the three Pitagats, or the three baskets, respectively

named the Wini Pitagat, the Thoots Pitagat, and the Abidama Pitagat. The

manuscript that the writer has had for his use, though correct in the

main, is certainly defective in the enumeration of the divisions and

subdivisions of the three great collections. He will, however, mention

them, such as they are enumerated by the Burmese author; the few errors

that may be detected can easily be corrected by those who have in their

possession the Ceylonese collection, as there is no doubt that the work

now under consideration is an abridgment of a more voluminous compilation

to be found in Ceylon.

The divisions of the Wini are: Bikoo Patimouk, Bikoonee Patimouk, Bikoo

Witin (probably Bikoo Win), Bikooni Win, twelve Kandaka, and sixteen

Pariwara.

The thoots are considered as the instructions orally delivered by

Gaudama himself, either to his disciples in private, or to the assembled

multitudes, during the forty-five years of his public mission. In this

collection the disciples have learned the doctrines of the master, and

found all the elements necessary to compose all the treaties, which

subsequently have formed the collections called Wini Pitagat and Abidama

Pitagat. No one could ever believe that the author of Buddhism could

have busied himself in writing treatises on metaphysics, or minutely

and elaborately publishing the regulations under which the body of his

followers, called the Sanga, were to live and spend their time. In his

instructions Gaudama gave utterance to certain principles, which, being

appropriated by his disciples and their successors, were enlarged,

developed, and reduced to the shape of a treatise. In fact, he sowed

the seed which, being let into the soil of the mind of enthusiastic

disciples, grew up and multiplied into the voluminous above-named

collections. Genuine Buddhism must be found in the thoots of the oldest

stamp. Anywhere else we meet with the Buddhism such as it has been

developed by doctors and commentators.

There are four collections of the thoots, named Nidia Nike, Midzima Nike,

Thangoutta Nike, and Engouttara Nike. They are likewise arranged under

fifteen heads, called: Koudakapata, Dammapata, Oodana, Ithi, Wouthaka,

Thouttanibat, Wi, Mama-wouttoo, Pita-wouttoo, Terakatta, Terikatta,

Dzattakani, Piti-sambika, Apadana, Buddha-wattoo.

The Abidamma has seven divisions, viz., Dammathingakani, Wittin,

Datoogatta, Pouggala-pignia, Kathawattoo, Yamaik, Patan.

The attentive reader cannot be but surprised to see how the three great

divisions of the Buddhistic scriptures are mentioned by the members of

the first council as things already existing and arranged with the same

method as they have been disposed during succeeding ages. It is certain

that such divisions of Gaudama’s doctrines did not then exist at that

time. Are we to conclude therefrom that the fact of the holding of the

first council is to be rejected as a mere invention, because the mode of

relating some particulars concerning that great assembly is liable to be

seriously objected to? It seems that such a conclusion would be a too

hasty one.

For establishing the fact of the holding of the first council, we have

the evidence supplied to us by all the Buddhistic writings, found in the

various countries where that religion has been established. Moreover,

several monuments of great antiquity allude to that first assembly. We

can scarcely raise a doubt upon the existence of the fact. But how are

we to account for the manner in which mention is made of compilations

which undoubtedly were not existing at that time? The redaction of all

the particulars connected with the first assembly must have been made a

considerable time after the holding of the said assembly, at an epoch

when the Buddhistic scriptures had already been arranged under three

distinct heads. The author, familiar with the division or compilation

into three parts, called Pitagats, has arranged his narration in such a

way as to give it a sort of agreement with a form which he thought must

have been as familiar to others as it was to himself. It is probable that

most of the points of discussion, such as we find them in the narrative,

were actually brought forward before the assembly, but in a shape more

simple and general, and less technical and positive. This is what can be

said in the present imperfect knowledge of the history of Buddhism, for

extenuating the charge of wilful forgery, which might be brought against

the author of the redaction. On the other hand, whilst prudent discretion

commands us not to be too hasty in passing a sweeping condemnation upon

the compilation, we must be very cautious in not admitting at once, and

not giving an absolute credit to all that is found in writings which do

convey to us many things of great antiquity, but evidently mixed with

multifarious details of a comparatively modern origin. This last remark

ought to be ever present to the mind of him who peruses some portions

of the Pitagats. The huge mass of rubbish which constitutes the largest

portion of the scriptures is the production of the various Buddhistic

schools which flourished eight and ten centuries after the first council.

[32] The few and meagre particulars which we possess respecting the

causes that have occasioned the holding of the second council, disclose

a curious state of things as existing in the Buddhist community. The

disciplinary regulations appear to have occupied a conspicuous part in

the discussions that took place during the period of the first century.

Some of those regulations were of trifling importance. We wonder how the

religious could lay so much stress upon such a trifle as this, “Is is

lawful to put salt or other condiments into articles of food, that would

have been offered without such requisites?” The activity displayed by

both parties in the controversy indicates the gradual working of opinions

which in those parts had been always inimical to genuine Buddhism. In

Wethalie and Thawattie, the holders of false tenets had been at all times

bold and numerous. In the days of Buddha, heretics were swarming in those

places. In the beginning of the fifth century of our era, Fa-hian, when

he visited those places, says that he found that religion had almost

disappeared, and that heretics were prevailing in every direction. We

must conclude from these two circumstances that Buddhism never flourished

in those places, or, at least, that it was never the prevailing creed of

the mass of the people.

The disputes that took place in those days were not looked upon as of

serious moment, since we see several religious of eminence supporting

the anti-orthodox party. King Kalathoka himself was in favor of those

whose opinions were condemned by the council. We may also infer from

this sate of things, that the disciplinary regulations were far from

being settled at that time. It required the experience of succeeding

generations to determine exactly what was best fitted for promoting

the well-being of the religious body, and causing its members to live

agreeably to the spirit which Gaudama desired to infuse into the souls

of his followers. It cannot therefore be a matter of surprise to see the

assembly striving, in the midst of discussions, to elaborate the framing

of the rules destined to guide the religious in the details of their

daily duties. Under such circumstances there could not but be a great

variety of opinions, supported with that heat and ardour so peculiar to

individuals who live estranged from the world. Moreover, the conflicting

opinions were maintained by the various schools, which, from the early

period of the existence of Buddhism, sprung up and divided the members of

the religious body. Circumstantial details respecting the various schools

we allude to, would prove of the greatest advantage for elucidating the

state of the great religious system under consideration, for enabling us

to enter into the history of its internal development, and witnessing the

various incidents that have marked its progress through ages, down to the

period when it gradually lost its footing in the Indian Peninsula.

The eighteen different schools which have obtained celebrity throughout

the Buddhist world are mentioned in the Cingalese collection, and in that

of all the northern Buddhists, including the Chinese. In the manuscript

which the writer possesses nothing is mentioned respecting these schools

but their respective names. Had the chief opinions held out by each

school been given out, they would have been expounded here at great

length and with a scrupulous correctness. Such not being the case, the

author has thought that it was useless to the reader to lay before him a

dry and uninteresting array of names.

[33] It has been thought of some importance to mention in a particular

note all the principal epochs named in the course of this work, and to

show how they stand relatively to the Christian era. As a matter of

course, the starting-point for the reckoning and computing of years is

the epoch of Gaudama’s death, which is fixed by the southern Buddhists

in the year 543 B.C. The exactness of this epoch has been contested by

A. Cunningham, one of the greatest authorities in such matters. In his

opinion, the epoch of Gaudama’s Neibban ought to be placed seventy years

later. But as his views on this subject have not as yet been universally

received by the learned in Europe, we will remain satisfied with the

hitherto generally accepted data.

The first era is that of King Eetzana, the grandfather of Gaudama by his

mother’s side. It was made by the help and under the guidance of a famous

hermit, named Deweela, who is mentioned as highly versed in the science

of astronomy, such as it existed in those days. The king’s object was

to correct the glaring errors that had crept into the calendar. It is

said that he did away with the era 8640 on a Saturday, on the day of the

new moon of Tabaong (March), and fixed the beginning of the new era on

the following day, that is to say, on a Sunday, the first day after the

new moon of the same month. This happened in the year 691 B.C. This new

reckoning of years lasted only a hundred and forty-eight years, the epoch

of Gaudama’s Neibban, 543 B.C.

The second era, the most celebrated of all, is the religious one. King

Adzatathat and the venerable Kathaba, actuated by the desire of rendering

ever memorable the death of the founder of their religion, and paying to

him a homage that would be re-echoed by succeeding generations, came to

the resolution of doing away with the Eetzana computation, and fixed a

new reckoning of years, from the annual revolution which witnessed that

event, which, in the opinion of Buddhists, is the greatest of all. In the

year 148, the first day of the month of Tagoo (April), which fell on a

Sunday, was fixed as the beginning of the new computation, emphatically

called the era of religion, 543 B.C. It is adopted by all the southern

Buddhists.

In addition to this general era, Buddhist nation has had, for one reason

or for another, particular periods, from which they have reckoned time

and computed years. It is probable that the reform in the calendar,

necessitated by the errors introduced into it owing to incorrect

computations, have given rise to several eras, which are generally known

by the name of the kings under whose reign they have taken place, and by

whose authority they have been introduced and brought into common use.

The Burmans have the era called Dandoratha. It was introduced by

Thamugdara, or, as spelt by others, Thamugdaritz, king of Prome, in the

year of religion 625 = to 81 A.D. That monarch is represented as well

informed and skilled in the knowledge of the astronomical calculations.

The months were no longer in unison with the seasons. What did the royal

reformer of the calendar do to remedy the evil? No other particular is

mentioned in the manuscript which the writer has in his possession,

except that the king did away with 622, and began the reformed

computation with two, so that its beginning must be made to agree with

the year 79 A.D.

That era lasted only 562 years. The reformer on this occasion was

Pouppa-dzau, king of Pagan, who is represented to us as well versed in

the science of astronomical computations. This monarch imitated in this

reform the conduct of the king of Prome. He did away with 560 years, and

had his new era to begin with two. This happened in the year of religion

1182 = to 639 A.D. This is the common era used by the Burmese up to this

day, and is known as the Pagan or Pouppa-dzau era.

We find also mentioned occasionally the Thaton era. It is made to begin

with the year of the arrival of the two Buddhist missionaries, Thauna

and Outtara, in the great place of Thaton, in the year of religion 237 =

to 306 B.C. Thirimathoka was, at that time, king of that country. That

period of years has lasted 1362 years. It ended in the year of religion

1599 = 1156 A.D., when the king of Pagan, Naurata-dzau, invaded the

country, possessed himself of Thaton, and carried away captive the last

king, Mein-hnit.

It is perhaps as well to mention here an epoch which has been, at all

times, famous in the history of Buddhism in Burmah. I allude to the

voyage which a religious of Thaton, named Buddhagosa, made to Ceylon in

the year of religion 943 = to 400 A.D. The object of this voyage was to

procure a copy of the scriptures. He succeeded in his undertaking. He

made use of the Burmese or rather Talaing characters, in transcribing

the manuscripts, which were written with the characters of Magatha. The

Burmans lay much stress upon that voyage, and always carefully note down

the year in which it took place. In fact, it is to Buddhagosa that the

people living on the shores of the Gulf of Martaban owe the possession of

the Buddhist scriptures. From Thaton, the collection made by Buddhagosa

was transferred to Pagan, 656 years after it had been imported from

Ceylon.

Without the knowledge of those various epochs, it is difficult to

understand with anything approaching to clearness and exactness the

dates that we find alluded to and mentioned in the Burmese literary

compositions. The foregoing particulars appear to be sufficient for all

practical purposes.

[34] From this passage we see that, in those days of remote antiquity,

there existed in the Indian Peninsula individuals who, led away by a

fanaticism still existing in our own days, devoted themselves to rigorous

and extravagant penances, often in a state of complete nakedness. In

the days of Alexander the Great, the same fanatics were met with in

the Punjaub. Such ridiculous and unnatural exhibitions, far from being

approved of and countenanced by the founder of Buddhism, were positively

prohibited. Though he aimed at subduing passions, and elevating the

spiritual principle above the material one, he recommended in the

spiritual warfare a line of conduct more consonant with reason, and

supplied his disciples with weapons of a far better quality and a

superior description.

[35] It is much to be regretted that no details concerning that third

assembly of the Buddhists in Pataliputra could be found by the writer in

the manuscript he has in his possession. The cause that occasioned the

holding of the council was the desire to establish a perfect unity in the

practices of discipline among the religious, and to come to an agreement

on the subject of the genuineness of the scriptures.

During the period of 236 years that elapsed from the death of Gaudama,

Buddhism seems to have remained confined within the limits of Magatha,

that is to say, north and south Behar. Its hold over the mind of the

people within those limits appears to have been very imperfect and

uncertain, particularly in the parts north of the Ganges. It is from the

reign of King Athoka that the propagation of Buddhism in every direction

dates. The uninterrupted successes which attended his arms enabled him

to afford a powerful support to the propagators of the new religion in

the remotest parts which they visited. But we have no reason to suspect

that he had recourse to violence in order to gain proselytes. No doubt he

protected them, and supplied all their wants on a liberal scale. He does

not appear to have extended farther the effects of the countenance he

lent to the heralds of the new religion. He built monasteries and dzedis

throughout the length and breadth of his immense dominions; he erected

stone pillars, which he covered with inscriptions commemorative of his

piety and zeal, a few of which exist up to this day. Athoka may be looked

upon as a monarch who did more for the propagation of Buddhism in foreign

parts than any of those who preceded him or came after him.

The establishment of Buddhism in Ceylon is mentioned at great length in

the writer’s manuscript, but he has thought it unnecessary to relate all

that he has found on this subject, as being foreign to the purpose he

has had in view in the publication of this book. In a foregoing note it

has been stated how extraordinary is the fact that during more than two

hundred years Buddhism was propagated in Ceylon solely by means of oral

tradition without writing. The Cingalese authors are so unanimous on

this point that it cannot be doubted. But in the Burmese manuscript we

have found stated, in unmistakable expressions, that the religious who

assembled in the village of Malliya wrote the Pitagat in Sanscrit, and

with the Sanscrit characters. The word made use of is _Sanskarain_, which

surely is designed to mean Sanscrit. How can this be reconciled with the

undoubted fact that all the southern Buddhists have the scriptures in

Pali and not in Sanscrit, whilst the northern nations that have embraced

Buddhism possess the scriptures in Sanscrit? Until we can obtain further

information on the subject, I have no hesitation in stating that the

Burmans, ignorant of the existence of the two distinct languages—the

Pali and the Sanscrit—are very apt to mistake the one for the other, and

that in their opinion what they call the language of Magatha, Pali, and

Sanscrit are but one and the same language, to which different names

have been given by ancient authors. As the translator of a manuscript,

the writer was bound to render into English what he has found written in

Burmese. This is the reason why he has, against his intimate conviction,

made use of the word Sanscrit, applied to the first compilation of

scriptures made in Ceylon under the reign of King Watakamani.

[36] The island of Ceylon was called, says the Burmese author, in former

times, by different names—Audzadipa, Waradipa, Mautadipa, Singgadipa,

Sihala, and Tappapani. There is no doubt but the last name was corrupted

by the Greeks into Tapobrane.

[37] The Burmans have, from the time of their conversion to Buddhism, or

at least from the period they became familiar with the scriptures, had

the mania of giving Pali names to countries, large towns, and new places

that were settled by the authority of the rulers, in addition to the

ordinary and common names. What has been the result of such a measure?

The people have continued to designate such places by the vulgar names,

whilst in most of the public documents and in the court they have always

used the scientific and uncommon names. Hence has arisen a confusion in

the minds of the people to such an extent that in many instances they

believe that two names given to the same place indicate two distinct

towns and localities.

The position of Thaton is well known, and is between the mouths of the

Salween and the Tsitang rivers. Its actual distance from the sea is

about eight or nine miles. In the days of Buddhagosa, that is to say, in

the beginning of the fifth century of our era, it was a sea-port. The

Burmese writers invariably call Thaton, not by the name of city, but

by that of country. They add the epithet of Souwana-boumi, the land of

gold. According to the same writers, Thaton was situated in the state

or kingdom of Ramagnia. From what is found mentioned about Ramagnia,

it appears that it comprised three distinct parts or districts; that

of Kouthein, which is the present Pouthein or Bassein, including the

territory situated between the Irrawaddy and the mountains of Arracan;

that of Henthawati, between the Irrawaddy and the Tsitang river; and

that of Mouttama, or Martaban, between the Tsitang and the Salween.

It seems that the kingdom of Ramagnia extended in the north as far as

Akaouk-taong, south of Prome. The limits that are assigned must have

undergone considerable changes, on account of the continual wars that

have raged in those parts, but they are those assigned by several native

authors.

The people that dwelt in Ramagnia are called Moun. They are the Talaings

or Peguans of modern times. They had attained a considerable degree of

civilisation at a time when the Burmans were in a state of barbarism. The

proximity of the sea afforded them opportunities of coming in contact

with other nations—the Hindus in particular, who appear to have settled

at Thaton in great numbers. The Rahan Buddhagosa is said to have belonged

to the pounha race, though he was a fervent Buddhist.

The town which was the capital of the territory called Henzawati cannot,

we believe, be the town which is called at present Pegu, but another one,

much more ancient, the ruins of which are still visible close to the

eastern side of Pegu.

The language of the Talaings is totally different from that of the

Burmans, but the characters for writing are somewhat the same. It is from

them that the latter have received their religion, the scriptures, and

the characters used in writing.

Since the final conquest of Pegu by Alaong-phra in the middle of the last

century, and the extermination of a great number of its inhabitants, the

remaining Peguans have gradually amalgamated with the Burmans. With their

nationality they have lost also their language to such an extent that it

is now spoken only in a few isolated places. It is not unusual to meet

with descendants of Peguans whose aged parents still speak their native

language, whilst they know and speak only Burmese.

[38] = to 400 A.D.

[39] = to 1058 A.D.

[40] = to 1161 A.D.

[41] It is obvious from the testimony of Burmese writers that they

acknowledge the fact that the Scriptures brought from Ceylon by

Buddhagosa, and the institutions flourishing in Thaton, found their way

to Pagan in the reign of King Naurata-dzau. They likewise affirm that

under the reign of Narapati-sisoo the religious who came from Ceylon,

imbued with the spirit of the Mahawihara school, set up practices which

were little, if at all, observed in Pagan at that time.

There was no doubt a great revival of Buddhism in Pagan, from the days of

King Naurata-dzau to those of Narapati-sisoo. Most of the great monuments

which excite the admiration of the travellers who visit Pagan were raised

during that period.

[42] It is probable that our Burmese author makes here a mistake similar

to the one alluded to in a foregoing note.

[43] When the writer set at work to publish the second edition of

this book he had at his disposal a Burmese palm-leaf manuscript, in

which he found a vast amount of information respecting the history of

Buddha, which was wanting in the work called Malla-linkara-wouttoo, the

translation of which has afforded matter for the first edition of the

legend of Gaudama. The work is named Tathagatha-oudana, the meaning of

which is, Praises of him who has come like all his predecessors. This

is one of Buddha’s titles of honour. He is sometimes called Bagawat,

the blessed or benevolent; Sugatha, he who has happily come; Dzina, the

conqueror. From what is stated at the end of the work, it appears that it

was composed in the town of Dibayen, sometimes called Tabayin, lying west

of the river Mu, at a distance of about fifteen miles. The place is at

present in a ruinous condition. Though the province continues to bear the

name of Tabayin, the residence of the governor is in the town of Ye-ou,

on the right bank of the Mu.

The compiler of the work was a Phongyie, who, according to his own

testimony, finished his task on the thirty-eighth year after he had

become a Patzin, ninety-three years ago. He was, therefore, at least

fifty-eight years old, as he could not become a Patzin before he had

reached his twentieth year. The compilation contains 636 pages of ten

lines each, is written on palm leaves, and forms two huge volumes. We

may well say that the narration begins at the beginning. The author

informs us of the origin, not of Gaudama, since he has obtained the

Buddhaship, but of the being who was indeed hereafter to become a Buddha,

but who had to move into the circle of countless existences, slowly

gravitating towards that perfected state in which he was to be fitted

for discharging the duties of a deliverer. He presents us with a sketch

of the origin of the country of Kapilawot, and of the kings from whom

Gaudama’s father descended. The above particulars were not to be found

in the Malla-linkara. In all that relates to the birth, boyhood, &c.,

of Gaudama, both compilations agree in the main. The variations are

few and unimportant. The author of the Tathagatha-oudana is immensely

diffuse when he relates all that took place in Buddha’s mind during the

forty-nine days that he spent around the tree Bodi. Besides the important

theory of the twelve Nidanas, or causes and effects, he supplies us with

a complete exposition of the whole Buddhistic system of metaphysics,

ontology, geography, and cosmography, the various seats in which all

rational beings are placed, from the lowest hell to the last or the

highest of the immaterial seats. All these details are purposely omitted

by the compiler of the Malla-linkara. Finally, the author supplies us

with a few particulars respecting Buddha, during the twenty first seasons

or years of his public life. The story of Dewadat is presented at great

length. But what is more important, we possess in the compilation of the

Tathagatha-oudana a concise account of the three great assemblies or

councils held in Radzagio, Wethalie, and Pataliputra, with the names of

the sovereigns who have ruled over Magatha from Adzatathat, under whose

reign Gaudama died, to Athoka, who promoted religion more than any of his

predecessors, and who by his royal influence supported the decisions of

the last council. He likewise mentions the names of the religious, who,

after the third council, were commissioned to go and preach religion in

various countries _out of Magatha_. From this last expression we learn

that Buddhism, until 236 after Gaudama’s death, had not extended its

influence beyond the boundaries of Magatha. As a matter of course, our

author dwells more particularly on the two missions that were sent,

the one to Ceylon and the other to Thaton. He enables us to follow the

development of Buddhism in Pegu and Burmah, by informing us that King

Naurata-dzau of Pagan, after the conquest of Thaton, took the king

prisoner, seized upon the collection of the scriptures, and therewith

carried to his capital all the best informed of the Phongyies, in 1056

A.D. Our author brings his narration to the time of the foundation of

Ava, in 1365 A.D.

In imitation of all other compilers, our author ends his narrative with

the following pious wishes. As a fit reward of the good work that I have

happily brought to a close, I desire to become in some future existence

a true Buddha, possessing all the science which will enable me to know

all beings, their state and condition, and all the relations subsisting

between them, and likewise to be gifted with a true compassion for and

benevolence towards all beings, which will prompt me to labour for their

deliverance. I desire that during the existences which are to precede the

last one, I may continually practise the ten great and principal virtues.

May my father, mother, relatives, teachers, and friends, have their share

in this my good work!

Though far more comprehensive than that of the author of Malla-linkara,

the compilation of the Tathagatha-oudana is very inferior to it as

regards the drawing up of the subject and the disposition of its parts.

Both are made by Burmans. We do not mean to say that the Burmans have

made works of an original character. The authors have extracted from

various parts of the scriptures all the materials they wanted for

composing a work which might be considered as the history of the founder

of their religion.

[44] The Burmese translator of the Malla-linkara finishes his work by

candidly stating the motives that have induced him to undertake it.

He desires to create, promote, and propagate, in the heart of future

generations, religious sentiments, and feelings of the tenderest

affection for the person of Buddha and his doctrine, that is to say, the

law and the assembly of the perfect. Such are the lofty objects he had

in view when he began to write. He was encouraged in his difficult task

by purely religious considerations, viz., the promotion and triumph of

Buddhism. For securing the attainment of what he considered to be a most

desirable end, he summoned all his abilities with a most praiseworthy

energy and perseverance.

With a somewhat different object in view, the Burmese work has been

translated into a European language. The translation has been accompanied

with notes intended to explain the text, which would otherwise prove,

in many parts, almost unintelligible to the generality of readers. The

principles of Buddhism, such as they are held and professed by Buddhists

in general, but in particular by those inhabiting Burmah, have received

a certain degree of attention, and have been examined as carefully as

possible from a Buddhistic point of view. That great religious system has

been considered, as it is in itself, without any regard to its intrinsic

merits or demerits. The notes are not designed to be an apology or a

confutation of Buddhism, but an exposition of its doctrines, such as they

are found in the best writings and believed by its votaries. When certain

tenets or practices were to be accounted for, recourse has always been

had to the general principles of Buddhism and to the notions certainly

prevailing at various periods in Buddhist countries. It is needless to

add that the notes, having been hurriedly written in the midst of almost

uninterrupted and time-absorbing occupations, are destitute of pretension

either to deep research or scientific merit. In former years, the writer

bestowed a certain amount of time and efforts on the study of Buddhism

in Burmah, where it has been for centuries the only religious creed. A

portion of the knowledge thus acquired has been embodied in the foregoing

notes, with the intention of compressing within a narrow compass the

elementary principles and general notions of Buddhism, affording thereby

to the readers, who cannot have access to the voluminous writings of the

French and German Orientalist _savans_, on the great religious system

of Eastern Asia, comparatively easy means to obtain some information on

a religion, which, false as it is, deserves to be known and understood,

since in point of antiquity it is second to none except to Brahminism,

and as regards diffusion extends its sway over probably one-fifth of the

human race.

[45] The distinction alluded to by our author is a most important

one. What does he mean when he states that all things in this world

obey the principle of mutability, and are liable to perpetual changes

and modifications, and that they have a cause? One would be tempted

to believe that the Buddhists admit of a first cause. But such is

not the case. To understand such a language coming from a Buddhist’s

mouth, we must bear in mind the theory of the twelve Nidanas, or

causes and effects. Each of the Nidanas is an effect relatively to the

preceding one, and a cause to the following one. All existing beings

are, relatively to each other, effects and causes. All undergo the

irresistible influence of mutability and change. The beings that reside

in the seats of Brahma are not beyond the reach of that influence, not

even those who dwell in the four immaterial seats.

Are there things which are fixedly and everlastingly the same, upon

which no change, no vicissitude can ever act? There is the law, there

is the state of Neibban. The law is the expression of truth, which is

reality, in contradistinction to the unreality of the visible world. The

essence of the law is contained in the four sublime truths, which are

emphatically called the Law of the Wheel. They are the declaration of

the true state and condition of all beings; they proclaim the necessity

of putting an end to such a miserable state of things, and point out the

sure means of freeing oneself from the miseries attending existence.

These truths are eternal, insomuch that what they proclaim has ever been

true in all the worlds that have preceded the present one, since they

always resemble each other, and will ever be equally true during the

endless series of worlds that will follow. In this sense the law, in the

opinion of Buddhists, being the declaration of truth, or of what is,

must be eternal, as truth itself is everlasting. The state of Neibban,

in contradistinction to that of existence such as we comprehend it, is

likewise a thing which never changes, since it is the end of changes. It

remains always the same; it is the opposite of existence. What is then

called here everlasting, or eternal, is, in the opinion of Buddhists, but

the things that are conceived as subsisting abstractively _per se_, and

never affected by the great principle of mutability that pervades all

beings. To sum up the whole in a few words, the science which points out

the means of coming out of the whirlpool of existences, and the being out

of that circle, such are the two things which are always the same, never

undergo any change, and are eternal.

[46] In the definition of man which is given by the Buddhist author,

we find the words intelligence, capacity for reflecting, comparing

and drawing inferences, &c. He who is not familiar with the revolting

materialist doctrines of Buddhism would be tempted to believe that they

admit of a soul or spiritual principle subsisting in man. But such is not

the case. The faculty for performing all the functions which we rightly

attribute to the soul resides in the sixth sense, called _mano_, or the

heart, or the knowing principle. But this sense, in their opinion, is as

material as the eye, the ear, and the other senses. It is delightful to

the Christian reader to find in the midst of a heap of rubbish and fables

a few fragments of the primitive revelation. We see man coming from a

noble origin, appearing in this world with the most glorious privileges,

which he forfeits by eating the rice called Tsale, which produced on his

being the same destructive effects which the eating of the forbidden

fruit caused on our first parents in the garden of Eden.

[47] Buddhists lay the greatest stress on the belief in the three

precious things. It is the foundation on which rests the whole spiritual

edifice. But it is somewhat extraordinary to see that the superstition

of believing in lucky and unlucky days, in good and bad luck, is openly

condemned, and entails upon him who is addicted to it the severest

penalty. Though such childish belief is so exceedingly common in Burmah

that it influences man in his daily and hourly affairs, yet we must admit

that it is opposed to the tenets of strict Buddhism. There can never be

any good or bad luck in the opinion of him who has faith in the influence

of merits and demerits. There is no other agent in this world but that

one; it is it alone that brings in and regulates all the accidents which

attend the life of man. Such is indeed the theory of the true Buddhist.

But how widely differs the practice from the theory? He who has lived

for some time in a Buddhist country, and made himself acquainted with

the intimate habits of the people, will soon discover that superstitious

ideas, and, as a necessary consequence, superstitious practices, are the

spring and prime mover of all actions from morning to night. In this

respect, Buddhist monks differ not from the laity; nay, they are often

seen as the leaders of the people in the performance of rites at variance

with the tenets of their creed.

[48] This is a consequence of the axiom established by our author,

viz., that the principle of mutability pervades all the beings which

reside in the thirty-one seats allotted to them. It cannot be supposed

for a moment, according to Buddhists, that a being, whatever may be the

amount of his merits and demerits, can ever be placed without the pale

of the influence of his good or bad deeds. It accompanies him in all

positions, and causes the vicissitudes that attend his existence. It

works upon him in hell, as well as on earth, and in the seats of Nats and

Brahmas. Fixity is to be found nowhere except in going out of the circle

of existences, that is to say, in Neibban. When we speak of existence

in a Buddhistic sense, we mean _a state of being_ in any conceivable

form or situation or place. Fixity in the enjoyment of reward or in the

undergoing of punishment is a contradiction with the first principle

of Buddhism. The awarder of reward or punishment is the above-named

influence, which proceeds from the actions performed, and in its turn

allots good or evil in exact proportion with the cause that has created

it.

Gaudama, having wilfully and unwilfully ignored a first cause from which

all the things that exist draw their being and life, has been forced

to allow to an imaginary agent the very same attributes which belong

exclusively to the supreme being. On the rock of atheism he has made a

sad shipwreck. Apart from this capital error it is surprising to see him

maintaining with an admirable acuteness the existence of many fundamental

truths; such, for instance, as the reward of good actions and the

punishment of bad ones. With him the doing of evil is ever attended with

consequences fatal to the perpetrator, whilst the performance of good

is always accompanied with beneficial results. One would be inclined to

believe that Gaudama has appropriated to himself with a great tact all

the truths emanating from the belief in a supreme being; and whilst he

has, with a barefaced and impious audacity, denied to the eternal author

of all things the very existence, he has been placed under the necessity

of accounting, in a most unlogical manner, for the existence of this

world.

[49] It will perhaps be of some interest to a few of our readers to

mention the names of the thirty-one seats in which Buddhists have located

all beings. Let us begin with the lowest step of that immense ladder. The

four first steps are the four states of punishment. In them are to be

found living the unfortunate beings who, pursued by the inflexible law of

their demerits, are doomed to atone in different ways for the evil that

they have done. The lowest seat is Nga-yai or hell. It is placed in the

centre of our planet, and subdivided into eight principal quarters, the

last of which is called Awidzi. The second step of the ladder is occupied

by the seat of Animals; the third by certain monsters called Preittas;

and the fourth by another kind of inferior beings named Athourikes. These

four seats are tenanted by beings who undergo punishment for the evil

deeds they have performed.

The fifth seat is that of Manusa, or men. The beings that occupy it

are in a state in which they can merit or demerit. It may be called a

position of probation.

Above the seat of man are the six seats of Nats called Tsadoomaritz,

Tawadeintha, Yama, Toocita, Nimanarati, Pare-neimittawasawati. The

denizens of those seats enjoy the reward awarded to them for the

performance of good and meritorious exterior works.

The three places above those of Nats, called Brahma-parisitsa,

Brahmah-parau-hita, Maha-Brahma, are occupied by the contemplatives who

have reached the first step of Dzan, or meditation. The three following,

Pareitta-ba, Appa-ma-naba, Appa-sara, are tenanted by the beings who have

attained the second degree of contemplation. The three next to those

just enumerated are: Paweitta-sou-ba, Appa-mana-sou-ba, Souba-kannaka.

They are the abodes of the contemplatives who have ascended to the third

step of meditation. The two following steps of the ladder, Wa-happala,

A-sou-gna-sat, are tenanted by the contemplatives of the fourth degree;

and the five that follow, viz., Awiha, Atabpa, Sou-dasa, Sou-dasi,

Agga-nita, are occupied by the contemplatives of the fifth degree; that

is to say, by the beings who have entered the Thoda, or current of

perfection, and who have qualified themselves for obtaining the state of

deliverance, or Neibban.

Above those seats we find the four and last abodes of Arupa, without

form. They are called: Akasanitza-yatana, Wigniana-witza-yatana,

Akeitsignia-yatana, Newa-thagnia-nathagnia-yatana.

[50] The number of tseits or ideas is one hundred and twenty, divided as

follows:—

1. The tseits or ideas of the beings as yet under the influence of

passion; they are named Kama-watsara-tseits.

2. The tseits or ideas peculiar to beings who have not as yet been

able to raise themselves entirely above materiality; they are called

Rupa-watzara-tseits.

3. There are four tseits peculiar to those beings, who, setting aside the

coarser portions of this world, launch forth into abstract truth, and

delight in the contemplation of the highest, purest, and most boundless

things the mind may imagine. They are known as the ideas working on what

may be called immaterial, impalpable objects.

The ideas of the first series belong to all the beings located in the

four states of punishment, in the seat of man, and in the six seats of

Nats, that is to say, in the eleven seats where is the reign of passions.

Those of the second series belong to the beings located in the sixteen

seats of the Brahmas, including those who have entered into the current

of perfection, by following the four Meggas, and enjoying the merits and

rewards connected with the condition of the perfect.

The ideas of the third series are the happy lot of those superior beings

who soar high in the regions of pure spiritualism, leaving below them all

the things that have a reference to this world, such as we see it.

The Tsedathits, or results essentially connected with ideas, are

fifty-two in number. The seven enumerated at the end of this article

are: contact, sensation, perception, inclination, fixity, command over

self, and remembrance: they are inherent in all ideas. Six Tsedathits

are connected with the act of perception, viz., thought, reflection,

decision, energy, pleasure, and liberty. Fourteen others are connected

with the ideas of demerits, viz., impudence, audacity in evil,

unsteadiness, concupiscence, pride, boasting, grievous offence, envy,

anxiety, want of respect, lowness of feelings, doubt or indecision,

covetousness.

The Tsedathits connected with merits are: affection for all that refers

to religion, remembrance of all that is good, shame of all that is bad,

fear of evil, exemption from concupiscence and from anger, serenity

of soul, freedom from evil inclinations and evil thoughts, swiftness

of the body and of the mind, good habits of the body and of the soul,

uprightness in the feelings and the thoughts, good words, good actions,

good behaviour, compassion, joy at the prosperity of others, wisdom, or

the acquirement of the knowledge of truth by reflection.

[51] Having in two previous notes explained what regards the ideas, and

the results from or the things connected with ideas, we must come to

the third great principle, viz., _Rupa_, or form, or matter, and state

further the curious divisions of our Burmese metaphysicians. 1. The form

of all that is visible is found in the four elements: earth, water, fire,

and air. 2. The form for coming in contact are the five senses, the eyes,

the ear, the nose, the tongue, and the body, or rather the skin of the

body. 3. The form of the objects of the senses is likewise divided into

five parts, essentially connected with the five above-enumerated senses.

4. The forms peculiar to the living beings are the male and female sexes.

5. The forms of life taken abstractedly are the life of the body and

the life of language or uttered words. 6. The forms in which appearance

exhibits itself are swiftness, softness, and acting. 7. The forms of

the signs of being are: the appearance of being, on coming into being,

the remaining into being, the fulness of the state of being, and the

destruction of being.

The last great principle is Neibban, that is to say, the exemption

from the action of the influence originating from merits and demerits,

from the volitions of the mind, from the seasons or time, and from

nourishment, which are the causes of mutability; it is the end of

existence.

As regards the state of man and that of other rational beings, there are

several notions which are arranged in a curious manner under several

heads, which it is thought necessary to notice as briefly as possible. 1.

The five _Khandas_, or supports of man’s being: materiality, sensation,

perception, mutability, and intellect or thought. 2. The inward five

_Ayatana_, or seats of the senses of seeing, of hearing, of smelling,

of tasting, and of feeling. 3. The outward five _Ayatana_, or seats of

what is perceived by the senses, viz., appearance or form, sound, odour,

taste, tangibility, and idea. 4. The ten _Dat_, or constitutive parts

of the five senses, and of the five results of the perception of the

five senses, as above enumerated. 5. The four _Thitsa_, or truths: the

truth of the miseries attending existence; the truth of concupiscence

or passions, the cause of all miseries; the truth of the Neibban of

passions, or the destruction of passions, the summit of which is Neibban,

the truth of the Megga or ways to Neibban. 6. The twenty-two _Indray_,

or dispositions or capacities for acting, viz., the capacity of seeing,

hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling, of uniting one sex with the other,

of thinking, of enjoying peace, of bearing pain, of yielding to anger,

of enjoying pleasure, of remaining indifferent, of using exertions, of

being attentive, of adhering to true doctrine, of putting on sentiments

of benevolence, of searching after wisdom, of using meekness, of entering

the four ways of perfection, and of enjoying the happiness resulting

from following those ways. 7. The nine _Phola_, or rewards resulting

from walking in the path of perfection are: intensity of benevolence,

of diligence, of attention, of fixity of wisdom, of shame of all that

is bad, of fear for all that is bad, of diligence in avoiding evil,

and the fear of hardness in sin. 8. The _Megga_, or ways, are: good

doctrine, good thinking, good language, and good actions. What follows

is but a completive of the above, viz., good conduct, good diligence,

good attention, and good fixity. 9. The _Dzan_, or meditation, have

five parts, viz., thought of the object, reflection on the object,

satisfaction resulting therefrom, affectionate inclination for the

object, fixity in the object.

The writer craves the reader’s indulgence in setting before him such a

dry nomenclature; but no one can understand the language of Buddhist

metaphysicians, unless he has made himself familiar with the terms they

use, and the arbitrary distinctions they have adopted.

[52] In this latter part our author clearly explains his opinion on this

world, that is to say, on all that exists. He states at first, in general

terms, that what we see and perceive by means of our senses, possesses no

reality; it is a mere illusion. Our ignorance of the real state of things

deceives us, by making us believe in the reality of objects that have

nothing but an ephemeral and illusory existence. He proceeds a little

farther, and treats our senses in like manner. They are the instruments

that procure unto us a general illusion. But the senses, what are they?

They are distinct from us. By a strict analysis we find them to be but

a compound of the four elements, liable to dissolution and destruction.

A living being has certain attributes which are the supports of his

existence; but those attributes are equally a compound of the elements,

subjected to the same modifications of reproduction and destruction

and deprived of consistence. The attributes of the living beings being

disposed of in this manner, the being itself vanishes away. There remain

but name and form. But does what we call form possess a real existence?

Undoubtedly not. It is a mere phantom, an illusion. Our author comes

to the necessary and final consequence that there is no world really

existing. In fact, he denies the existence of matter and spirit. With

such an abuse of the powers of reasoning, there is no wonder that he

looks upon Neibban, or annihilation, as the only end to be arrived at.

Man in his opinion being but a compound of the four elements, which have

no real existence, cannot be himself but an illusion without a reality.

Gracious Heavens! what an excess of mental aberration will man reach when

he is left to himself, deprived of the light from above! Never has the

writer witnessed such a total eclipse of human intellect.

[53] The word Talapoin, imported into Europe by the writings of early

Portuguese authors in the East Indies, derives its origin probably from

two Pali words, Tala-pat, meaning the leaf of the palm-tree. These two

words, coupled together, are used by the Siamese to designate the large

fan made of palm-leaves, set in a slender wooden frame, which Talapoins

carry with them on certain occasions when they go abroad.

In the course of this notice we will indiscriminately make use of

the words Phongyies, Talapoins, and Rahans to designate the Buddhist

religious.

[54] In glancing over the latter part of Buddha’s life, the reader has

seen that the less important points of discipline have been the subject

of much discussion in the early days of Buddhism. Among those points of

dispute and contention were the last five articles above enumerated. The

second council was assembled for the purpose of settling warm disputes

which distracted the Buddhist Thanga, or Assembly, and caused great

disturbances. The venerable Rasa, who lived in Wethalie, a city situated

on the Gunduck, north of Hajipoor, undertook a long journey, as far as

Kosambi, for the express purpose of warning the religious of that country

against the dangerous innovations which were introduced by a considerable

body of Rahans belonging to the eastern districts of Wethalie.

The journey was certainly a long one in a western direction. The ruins of

the famous city of Kosambi have been discovered at a place called Kosam,

thirty miles above Allahabad, on the Jumna. They are most extensive, and

at once indicate the importance that place must have had in the days of

its prosperity. A broken pillar, the polished shaft of which must have

measured 34 feet, is covered with inscriptions; it is one of the most

important Buddhist relics. It is probably one of those pillars erected by

Athoka in every part of his extensive dominions. It bears no inscription

more ancient than the second and third century of the Christian era. A

similar one was erected at Prayag, an ancient city mentioned by Hwen

Thsang as being situated at the confluence of the Ganges and the Jumna,

and finally destroyed by the gradual encroachments of the rivers. The

place remained abandoned until the days of the Emperor Akhbar, who built

a fort called Illahabas. The new city received the name of Allahabad from

the Emperor Shah Jehan. The famous pillar called the Allahabad Pillar

bears three inscriptions. The first is that of Asoka, 240 years B.C.,

recording his edicts for the propagation of Buddhism; the second is that

of Samudra Gupta, in the second century of our era, commemorative of

his extensive dominions; the third is that of Jehangir, mentioning his

accession to the throne. The last re-setting up of this famous pillar

took place in 1838.

[55] Among southern Buddhists, preference is given to the yellow colour

for the monk’s habit. The juice extracted from the Jack-tree wood, by the

process of boiling, supplies the necessary ingredient for dyeing.

[56] The writer does not think it worth repeating the reasons that

induced Gaudama to lay down those several regulations. They owe their

origin to the fact that some individuals contrived to be ordained though

labouring under physical defects, and thereby became a sort of standing

disgrace to the society. It was at the request of his father that Buddha

forbade receiving to ordination sons who had not the consent of the

parents, and fixed twenty years as the age requisite in him who would

offer himself for the promotion to the order of Patzin. No slave, no

debtor, could be ordained, because a man in such a condition does not

belong to himself, and cannot dispose of his person, which to a certain

extent is the property of his master and creditor.

[57] It is probable that the allusion to the red colour has a Thibetan

origin. The Buddhist monks of that country have adopted the red for their

dress, in preference to the yellow, which is the canonical colour of the

habit of all the monks among the southern Buddhists.

[58] In this part of the regulations the elect is reminded of the

primitive condition of the members of the society. In imitation of their

brethren of the Brahminical persuasion, and also for the purpose of

living in seclusion, the Rahans, in the beginning, were satisfied with

dwelling in huts raised at the foot of some tall tree. As soon, however,

as Buddhism gained footing in various countries, we see that kings,

nobles, and wealthy persons vied with each other in erecting splendid

houses for the use of the monks. Gaudama himself was presented by King

Pimpathara at Radzagio with the splendid Weloowon monastery. In Thawattie

the rich man Anatapein offered him the famous Dzetawon monastery; and the

rich lady Withaka of the same country gave him, as a gift, the no less

splendid mansion named Pouppayon.

General A. Cunningham has discovered the ruins of Thawattie, fifty-eight

miles north of Fyzabad, on the Rapti, in a place called Sahet Mahet,

situated between Akaona and Bulrampur, five miles from the former and

twelve from the latter. It was the capital of King Pathenadi, situated in

north Kosala. In the Legend of Buddha we have seen how that monarch was

dispossessed of his throne by one of his sons, and died while on his way

to the capital of Adzatathat, his son-in-law. The ruins of the renowned

Dzetawon monastery have been identified by means of the information

supplied by the writings of the Chinese pilgrims we have often mentioned.

The monastery was distant 1200 paces from the southern gate of the city.

The scarcely less famous Pouppayon monastery was erected to the east

of the Dzetawon. Mounds of ruins in that very same direction leave no

doubt that in their bosom the last remains of that celebrated place are

entombed. It is said that Gaudama, being fifty-five years old, began to

reside permanently in monasteries built for him, and that he spent, out

of the last twenty-five seasons, nineteen in the Dzetawon and six in the

Pouppayon. According to Hwen Thsang, the place occupied by the Dzetawon

monastery was a square, having 1000 cubits on each face or side. Besides

the monastery, there were two temples and two tanks within the enclosure.

[59] In treating of the precept of never touching women, it is added in

the Wini that this prohibition extends to one’s own mother; and even

should it happen that she fall into a ditch, her son, if a Talapoin, must

not pull her out. But in case no other aid is near at hand, he may offer

her his habit, or a stick, to help her out; but at the same time he is to

imagine that he is only pulling out a log of wood.

[60] The Phongyies profess to have a tender compassion for the life of

animals, and would not on any account allow themselves to be suspected of

having contributed to the killing of an animal for the sake of feeding on

his flesh. The writer has often taken a pleasure in taunting them on this

account when he happened to see them eating pieces of boiled meat, by

showing to them that their practice was little in accordance with their

theory. They always answered that “they had not killed the animal, the

flesh of which they were eating; but had merely received a piece of meat

that had no life. As to the man who had deprived the animal of its life,

he had certainly sinned, and would suffer for his misdeed. But that was

an affair for which the perpetrator of the deed was alone answerable, and

which concerned him alone.” To this answer, of a rather elastic nature,

the writer jocosely replied that “if there was no eater of meat there

would be no killer of animals; and that, in his opinion, if sin there

was, both had a share in it.” Whereupon the yellow-dressed interlocutors

invariably laughed, and feeling that they stood on insecure ground,

adroitly changed the subject of conversation. There is no doubt that the

Phongyies believe that it is sinful to kill animals, but at the same time

they confess that it is difficult, nay, almost impossible, to live in

this world without committing such a trespass.

[61] The writer, when he visited Bhamo two years ago, had the opportunity

of witnessing a striking illustration of the above assertion. Living

in a fine and substantial dzeat, in the vicinity of a large pagoda, he

remarked an elderly Burmese woman coming every morning with some flowers,

which she respectfully deposited in front of a niche tenanted by a

huge marble idol. She was poorly dressed, but her mien and countenance

indicated that she had seen better days. Entering into conversation with

her, the writer learned from her that she was the widow of a wealthy

man who had been the principal writer of the governor. Her husband had

spent twelve thousand rupees in building the pagoda in front of us and

the dzeat, and had just died when the work was completed, leaving to her

and her only daughter nothing but the house they now dwelt in. She was

without any means of support. Having been asked whether she did not feel

some regret that nothing had been left for her subsistence, and whether

she did not think her husband would have behaved better in bestowing

one-half of his money for religious purposes and keeping the other half

for the maintenance of his family, the old lady gently smiled, and said,

without hesitation or showing the least sign of repining, that her

husband had acted very well and for the best; that she and her daughter,

by their exertions, would always be able to support themselves in their

humble and poor condition.

In many places the traveller’s eyes are attracted by the sight of a lofty

and roomy kiaong, adorned with fine carvings. When he inquires about

the individual whose pious liberality has erected that edifice, he is

surprised and astonished to see him living in the poor and wretched house

which is pointed out to him.

END OF VOL. II.

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