Sacred Symbols.

In India the notion of trees being inhabited by deities or semi-divine beings or spirits is to this day very common, and we have already noted (p. 112) that during the period of Gautama’s Bodhi-sattvaship, in the course of which he had to undergo countless births in preparation for his Buddhahood, he was born forty-three times as a tree-god.

In Siam, according to Mr. Alabaster, offerings are commonly made in the present day to the spirits or deities inhabiting trees. People hang various votive objects on the branches, or place them on a stand or altar beneath any particular tree whose deity they wish to propitiate. Moreover they are very averse to the cutting down of any trees of any kind, lest the tree-gods should be angry.

‘Some years ago,’ says Mr. Alabaster, ‘when I employed my spare energy in showing the Siamese how to make roads in the, till then, roadless suburbs of Bangkok, I had to cut my lines through villages, temple-groves, orchards, plantations, and patches of jungle. For the “wicked” duty of cutting down the trees, a gang of the lowest criminals was placed at my disposal.’ But he adds that the removal of any specially holy building or tree was interdicted by the Government.

We have already seen that, according to the theory of later Buddhism, every Buddha is supposed to have his own special tree under which he sat and meditated, and in the end attained supreme knowledge (seep. 136). For example, there is the Pippala (also called Aṡvattha,Ficus Religiosa) sacred fig-tree of Gautama Buddha, the Vaṭa or Banyan-tree (Ficus Indica) of Kāṡyapa Buddha, the Uḍumbara (Ficus Glomerata) of Kanaka-muni; the Ṡirīsha (Acacia Serisa) of Kraku-Ććhanda; the Ṡāla (Shorea Robusta) of Viṡva-bhū; the Puṇḍarīka (WhiteLotus) of Ṡikhin[267]; the Pāṭali (Bignonia Suaveolens) of Vipaṡyin.

These six Buddhas with Gautama are sometimes held to be the seven principal Buddhas, and, according to some authorities, the tree of the future Buddha (Maitreya) will be the Iron-wood tree (Sideroxylon)[268]. Specimens of some of these trees are to be found growing in the area of the Buddha-Gayā temple, and several are represented in the sculptures of the Stūpa of Bharhut (of the second centuryB.C.). On one of the pillars of that Stūpa elephants are carved in the act of worshipping both the Pīpal-tree and the Banyan-tree. In fact it must be borne in mind that Gautama Buddha is said to have meditated under both of these trees, and is therefore connected with both (seep. 39).

It might have been expected, too, that the Ṡāl-tree would have ranked next in sacredness to the Pīpal and Banyan; for according to one legend, Māyā gave birth to Gautama while standing under a Ṡāl-tree, and according to another legend, Gautama died on a couch placed between two Ṡāl-trees (pp.23,50). This tree, however, appears to be more honoured in connexion with the Buddha Viṡva-bhū (p. 136, note 1).

There are other trees which were held in veneration by Indian Buddhists:—for example, the Mango (Āmra) and the Jambu, and the Aṡoka. The first of these appears frequently in sculptures, and is known by the shape of its fruit.

Two other trees under which the Buddha is said to have meditated after his attainment of Buddhahood—namely, the Mućalinda-tree[269]and the Rājāyatana-tree—are not identified.

But among all trees revered by all Buddhists of all nationalities, the Aṡvattha or Pippala (Pīpal), under which Gautama achieved Buddhahood and perfect knowledge, takes the precedence. In some Buddhist countries the climate prevents its introduction, but if it can by any means be made to grow, it is everywhere planted close to Buddhist temples, monasteries and Dāgabas, and in many cases is the product of a seed brought from the supposed original tree at Buddha-Gayā.

A tradition relates that Gautama during his lifetime directed Ānanda to break off a branch from that original tree and to plant it in the garden of the Vihāra, or monastery, at Ṡrāvastī—Gautama’s favourite place of residence—‘He who worships it,’ said Gautama, ‘will receive the same reward as if he worshipped me[270].’

This is a mere legend resting on no historical basis; but the tradition which makes Gautama choose a seat under the sacred Pippala or Aṡvattha as the spot where the first stirrings of a divine afflatus and the first whisperings of divine communications—symbolized by the mysterious quivering and rustling of its leaves—werelikely to make themselves felt, points to a probable fact—a fact quite in harmony with what we have already noted in regard to his early Brāhmanical education and ideas. We read in the Kaṭha Upanishad (VI. 1) that the root of the Aṡvattha-tree was identified with the Supreme Being, Brahman. In a passage of the Muṇḍaka Upanishad (III. 1. 1) and in a Mantra of the Ṛig-veda (I. 164. 20) the same idea is alluded to. It is true that Gautama afterwards repudiated the possibility of any divine inspiration coming from any external source whatever, yet it is probable that when he first seated himself under the sacred fig-tree, which is even now regarded by the Hindūs as a manifestation of the god Brahmā, he expected supernatural communications of some kind[271].

The history of the original sacred Pippala (Aṡvattha) tree, or as it is commonly called the Bodhi-tree (Bo-tree) of Gautama Buddha at Buddha-Gayā, has already been sketched in a previous Lecture (see pp. 392-394).

Hiouen Thsang’s description of the tree, as he saw it in the seventh century, has also been given (seep. 399). Fā-hien, who saw it at Buddha-Gayā in the fifth century, calls it the Patra-tree. The following is an abridgement of what he says about it:—

The Bodhi-sattva advanced to the Patra-tree, placed the Kuṡa grass at the foot of it, and sat down with his face to the east. Then KingMāra sent three beautiful damsels to tempt him. The Bodhi-sattva put his toes down to the ground, and the young maidens were changed into old grandmothers. Buddha, after attaining perfect wisdom, contemplated the tree for seven days (Legge, p. 88).

Fā-hien also saw the offspring of the original Bodhi-tree growing in Ceylon (Legge, p. 103).

It is recorded that soon after Mahinda, son of Aṡoka, arrived in Ceylon (about 250B.C.) for the purpose of propagating Buddhism, his sister, who had become a Buddhist Nun, also arrived there, and brought with her from King Aṡoka a branch of the sacred Bodhi-tree of Buddha-Gayā. This was planted at Anurādha-pura, and the zealous Buddhists of Ceylon fully believe that the identical tree exists there still.

An interesting account of the state of this tree or its descendant, about thirty years ago, is given in Sir Emerson Tennant’s ‘Ceylon’ (vol. ii. p. 613). I here give an abridged extract:—

The Bo-tree of Anurādha-pura is in all probability the oldest historical tree in the world. Its conservancy has been an object of solicitude to successive dynasties, and the story of its vicissitudes has been preserved in a series of continuous chronicles.It would almost seem to verify the prophecy pronounced when it was planted, that it would flourish and be green for ever.The degree of sanctity with which this extraordinary tree has been invested by Buddhists, may be compared to the feeling of veneration with which Christians regard the attested wood of the Cross.The other Bo-trees which are found in the vicinity of every temple in Ceylon are said to be all derived from the parent-tree at Anurādha-pura, but they have been propagated by seeds; the priesthood adhering in this respect to the precedent recorded in the Mahā-vaṉṡa (when Mahinda himself, taking up a fruit as it fell, gave it to the king to plant), and objecting religiously to lop it with any weapon.In the fifth century Fā-hien found the Bo-tree at Anurādha-purain vigorous health, and its guardians displaying towards it the same vigilant tenderness which they exhibit at the present day.The author of the Mahā-vaṉṡa, who wrote between the years 459 and 478 of our era, after relating the ceremonial which had been observed nearly eight hundred years before, at the planting of the venerated tree by Mahinda, concludes by saying:—‘Thus this monarch of the forest, endowed with miraculous powers, has stood for ages in Laṅkā, promoting the spiritual welfare of its inhabitants and the propagation of true religion.’

It would almost seem to verify the prophecy pronounced when it was planted, that it would flourish and be green for ever.

The degree of sanctity with which this extraordinary tree has been invested by Buddhists, may be compared to the feeling of veneration with which Christians regard the attested wood of the Cross.

The other Bo-trees which are found in the vicinity of every temple in Ceylon are said to be all derived from the parent-tree at Anurādha-pura, but they have been propagated by seeds; the priesthood adhering in this respect to the precedent recorded in the Mahā-vaṉṡa (when Mahinda himself, taking up a fruit as it fell, gave it to the king to plant), and objecting religiously to lop it with any weapon.

In the fifth century Fā-hien found the Bo-tree at Anurādha-purain vigorous health, and its guardians displaying towards it the same vigilant tenderness which they exhibit at the present day.

The author of the Mahā-vaṉṡa, who wrote between the years 459 and 478 of our era, after relating the ceremonial which had been observed nearly eight hundred years before, at the planting of the venerated tree by Mahinda, concludes by saying:—‘Thus this monarch of the forest, endowed with miraculous powers, has stood for ages in Laṅkā, promoting the spiritual welfare of its inhabitants and the propagation of true religion.’

When Buddhism became thoroughly mixed up with Hindūism the Kalpa-tree or divine tree of Indra’s paradise was often introduced. It is supposed to have its terrestrial counterpart in some sacred spots on earth, and there to grant all desires, the worshipper having merely to stretch out his hand and take the gifts suspended from its branches[272]. In one sculpture it is represented pouring out coins on the ground. This kind of wishing-tree is believed to present, among other things, any food that its worshippers may ask for, and to present it ready-cooked, if cooking is needed.

The miraculous tree which developed out of the Buddha’s tooth-cleaning twig, when thrown by him on the ground, has been already described (seep. 419, and compare ‘Brāhmanism and Hindūism,’ p. 337).

Some of the sacred objects already described may be regarded as symbols. Of those which are morestrictly symbols theTri-ratna‘three-jewel’ emblem comes first. It is three-pointed, and the three points are simply emblematical of the Buddha, the Law, and the Monastic Order. It is often used as an ornament. Good examples may be seen in some of the Bharhut sculptures (see Sir A. Cunningham’s work). The central point is often the least elevated.

The use of this triple symbol is another proof of the connexion between Buddhism and Hindūism. Both delight in triads and in symbolizing triads[273], but the Buddhist ‘three-jewel’ symbol should not be confused with the Hindū Tri-ṡūla, which is Ṡiva’s trident used as a weapon in his warfare with the demons. The Tri-ratna is merely the analogue of the Tri-ṡūla, as it is also of the triple horizontal mark on the forehead of Ṡaivas, and of the Tri-puṇḍra or triple frontal mark of the Tengalai sect of Rāmānuja Vaishṇavas. The two outer marks of the latter stand for Vishṇu’s two feet and the middle for his consort Lakshmī[274].

Sir A. Cunningham was the first to show that the three fetish-like figures of Jagannāth (Kṛishṇa) and his sister and brother, at Purī in Orissa, were derived from three of the combined emblems of the Buddhist Tri-ratna (comparep. 166of this volume).

Next to the Tri-ratna comes theĆakraor wheel. This symbolizes the Buddhist doctrine that the originof life and of the universe (p. 119) are unknowable—the doctrine of a circle of causes and effects without beginning and without end. The wheel also typifies the rolling of this doctrine over the whole surface of the world (pp.410,423). It is perhaps one of the most important symbols of Buddhist philosophy. It is often represented as either supporting the Tri-ratna or supported by it, or the latter may be inserted in it.

Observe that the Ćakra or wheel is equally a Vaishṇava symbol, but in the hand of Vishṇu or of Kṛishṇa it is a circular weapon, hurled at a demon-foe.

Another symbol is theLotus-flower. Its constant use as an emblem, seems to result from the wheel-like form of the flower—the petals taking the place of spokes, and thus typifying the doctrine of perpetual cycles of existence—or from the perfection typified by the regularity of these petals, or from the idea that its expanded flower, reposing on a calm mirror-like lake, is a fit emblem of Nirvāṇa.

The Wheel, the Tri-ratna, and the Lotus are so important, as symbols of Buddhism, that they are combined in the vignette on the title-page of this volume.

Another symbol is theSvastikamark, consisting of two lines crossing each other, the termination of each arm of the cross being usually bent round in the same direction[275]. Much controversy has been devoted to the origin and meaning of this symbol, which simply symbolizes good luck, and equally belongs to Hindūism.Long ago I propounded a theory that it might represent the four arms of Lakshmī. I now think it a mere curtailed form of the Wheel, consisting of four spokes with a portion of the periphery of the circle. In my opinion, the four spokes may represent the four groups of worlds (i. e. the lower worlds and three groups of heavens,p. 213) circling in an eternal cycle. Sir A. Cunningham considers this symbol to be a monogram or interlacing of the letters of the auspicious wordssu asti(svasti) in the Aṡoka characters.

Another symbol is theThroneor seat of Buddha—a favourite emblem in many sculptures. In Cunningham’s ‘Stūpa of Bharhut’ the throne of each Buddha is often represented under his Bodhi-tree (but without any image), and the thrones of the last four Buddhas are joined together in a single bas-relief. Sometimes the throne is covered by an umbrella with garlands, or the Buddha’s bowl may rest on it. Sometimes two foot-prints are on a foot-stool under the throne.

Another venerated symbol is theStūpa(seep. 505). It is often an object of adoration in itself.

I need scarcely revert to theUmbrellasymbol (seep. 393). In Eastern countries it typifies supremacy. If a king is present no one else ought to carry an umbrella.

TheṠaṅkhaorConch-shellis a very auspicious symbol, especially if the convolutions turn to the right in the Nandy-āvarta form, as on the Buddha’s foot (seep. 513).

The Tibetan symbol of the ‘Flying horse’ (Lung-ta)—able to transport a man round the world in one day—has been mentioned before; also theNorbugem (see pp.381,528).

It may be truly said that all animals are more or less venerated—though not actually worshipped—under the Buddhist system. How can it be otherwise when every Buddhist believes that the Buddha himself was incarnated in various animals during the period of his Bodhi-sattvaship (seep. 111)?

In the same way the Hindūs believe that the god Vishṇu was incarnated in animals, such as a fish, a tortoise, and a boar.

Buddhism in this as in other respects is like Brāhmanism and Hindūism. The feeling of reverence for animals rests on the doctrine of metempsychosis. It is difficult for either a Hindū or a Buddhist to draw a line of demarcation between gods, men, and animals, when the same living being may exist as a god, a man, or an animal. It is on this account that in India animals appear to live on terms of the greatest friendship and mutual confidence with human beings.

Everywhere in India animals dispute possession of the earth with man. Birds build their nests and lay their eggs in the fields, untroubled by fears or misgivings, before the very eyes of every passer-by, and within the reach of every village school-boy. Animals rove over the soil as if they were the landlords. Bulls walk about independently in the streets, and jostle you on the pavements; monkeys domesticate themselves jauntily on the roof of your house; parrots peer inquisitively from the eaves of your bedroom into the mysteries of your toilet; crows make themselves at home on your window-sill, and carry off impudently any portable article of jewellery that takes their fancy on your dressing-table; sparrows hop about impertinently and take the bread off your table-cloth; a solitary mongoose emerges every morning from a hole in your verandah, and expects a share in your breakfast; swarms of insects claim a portion of your mid-daymeal, and levy a tax on the choicest delicacies at your dinner table; bats career triumphantly about your head as you light yourself to your bedroom; and at certain seasons snakes domicile themselves unpleasantly in the folds of your cast-off garments. (Quoted from my ‘Brāhmanism and Hindūism.’)

Perhaps the most sacred animal in the estimation of all Buddhists is the elephant. This will be easily understood by recalling what has been said in a previous Lecture (see pp.23,24). In one of the Bharhut sculptures the white elephant is seen descending to enter the side of Gautama’s mother Māyā (‘Stūpa of Bharhut,’p. 84). The elephant, says Sir A. Cunningham, is a favourite subject for delineation. It is represented in almost every possible position, as standing, walking, running, sitting down, eating, drinking, throwing water over its own back, and lastly, kneeling down in reverence before the holy Bodhi-tree.

Probably the next sacred animal to the elephant is the deer. The Buddha was born eleven times as a deer (p. 111), and he delivered his first sermon in a deer-park (p. 42). The ‘goose’ (Haṉsa, sometimes called ‘a duck’ or ‘a swan’) is also very sacred. With regard to other animals, Sir A. Cunningham remarks:—

The animals represented in the Bharhut sculptures are of two classes, the natural and the fabulous. The latter, however, are limited to three varieties, an elephant with a fish-tail, a crocodile with a fish-tail, and a winged horse; while the former comprises no less than fourteen quadrupeds, six birds, one snake, one fish, one insect, one crocodile, two tortoises, one lizard, and one frog. The quadrupeds include the lion, elephant, horse, rhinoceros, wild boar, bull, deer, wolf, monkey, cat, dog, sheep, hare, and squirrel. The birds comprise the cock, parrot, peacock, goose, wild duck, and quail. The snakes and fishes appear to be of only one kind. The solitary insect is a flesh-fly (p. 41, etc.).

In Burma people feed sacred fish, and save their lives in seasons when they would perish through the drying up of rivers and ponds (seep. 364).

Dr. Eitel, in his Lectures (p. 136), points out that even pigs are held sacred, though not worshipped, by Northern Buddhists. We must not forget that the Buddha in two of his births was a pig (p. 112), that he died of eating pork, and that in sculptures of the Tāntrik goddess Vajra-vārāhī—adopted by Northern Buddhists—a row of seven pigs is carved underneath her three-headed figure, one head being that of a pig.

Among these may be reckonedbellsof various kinds. The prayer-bells common in Tibet, which are held in the hand and used during the chanting of prayers, have been already described (p. 323).

In Burma bells abound everywhere. They are of all sizes, and often of immense weight, but are not used in the same way as in Tibet. Nor are they ever rung in peals or with a clapper. Their use is not to call people to religious services. It is no part of the business of monks or priests to summon the laity to any service. Every man worships on his own account, and for himself, and by himself, and no so-called priest reminds him of his religious duties, or is responsible if he neglects them.

The real use of bells in Burmese temples is to draw the attention of the deities and spirits (Naths) to the act of worship, and so secure the due registering of prayer-merit. When a man has finished his repetitions, he strikes the bell with a piece of wood orother sacred implement lying near, and the more noise he makes the better. Mr. Scott informs us that every large pagoda has dozens of bells of all sizes, hanging outside, and one or two inside the central shrine. They are constantly dedicated by religious people, and thus multipliedad infinitum.

The form of dedication is inscribed on every bell, and is in the Pāli language, though instances of the vernacular occur.

The following is a portion of a remarkable inscription in the vernacular (Shway Yoe, i. 243, abridged):—

This bell was moulded with great care and much expense, and is humbly offered by Moung San Yah and his wife, who seek refuge in the boundless mercy of the pitiful Buddha, in the majesty of the eternal law, and in the examples of the venerable assembly. They humbly strive to gain merit for themselves. May the good Naths look smilingly on them. May the Naths who dwell in the air and the earth defend their two fat bullocks—which plough the fields—from evil creatures. May the guardian Naths of the house and of the city keep Chit Oo, their son, and little Mah Mee, their darling daughter, from harm.

The weight of the bell is generally added to the dedication.

There is a fine Burmese bell in the Indian section of the South Kensington Museum. It has a long Pāli inscription, a portion of the translation of which I here give:—

‘Without charity you cannot attain to Nirvāṇa’—so it is written in the Pāli Texts.I, the giver of this bell, was staying in the sweet-smelling town of Ma-oo—of which I collect the taxes for the king—and with me was my wife—my life’s breath—like to the pollen of a lily, from whom I will not be separated in all the existences which are to come, and out of which we hope soon to escape. We adore Buddha, that we may embark in the golden raft of the Noble Path, which will lead us tothe final plunge into Nirvāṇa. We two, brother and sister (that is, husband and wife), have given this bell as an offering. The exact weight of the bell is 2500 kyats. We took our own weight in gold and silver and bright copper and other metal, and mixed them well together, in the year 1209 (1847A.D.).Now I will record all the alms I gave and what I erected within the sacred enclosure. I gave a sacred flag-staff (seep. 380of these Lectures), the price of which, with all expenses in putting up, was 500 rupees. At the foot of it I built four small pagodas. Outside I built a monastery and a rest-house. Such are all the offerings. May I be freed from the Four states of Punishment, from the Three Great Calamities (war, famine, and plague), from the Eight Evil Places, from the Five Enemies, from unfortunate times and seasons, and from bad people. May I escape all these when I die.All the merits I have gained, may they be shared with my parents, teachers, and all my relations; with kings, queens, nobles, and all people in the thirty-one places of habitation throughout the universe. (Seep. 121of these Lectures.)

‘Without charity you cannot attain to Nirvāṇa’—so it is written in the Pāli Texts.

I, the giver of this bell, was staying in the sweet-smelling town of Ma-oo—of which I collect the taxes for the king—and with me was my wife—my life’s breath—like to the pollen of a lily, from whom I will not be separated in all the existences which are to come, and out of which we hope soon to escape. We adore Buddha, that we may embark in the golden raft of the Noble Path, which will lead us tothe final plunge into Nirvāṇa. We two, brother and sister (that is, husband and wife), have given this bell as an offering. The exact weight of the bell is 2500 kyats. We took our own weight in gold and silver and bright copper and other metal, and mixed them well together, in the year 1209 (1847A.D.).

Now I will record all the alms I gave and what I erected within the sacred enclosure. I gave a sacred flag-staff (seep. 380of these Lectures), the price of which, with all expenses in putting up, was 500 rupees. At the foot of it I built four small pagodas. Outside I built a monastery and a rest-house. Such are all the offerings. May I be freed from the Four states of Punishment, from the Three Great Calamities (war, famine, and plague), from the Eight Evil Places, from the Five Enemies, from unfortunate times and seasons, and from bad people. May I escape all these when I die.

All the merits I have gained, may they be shared with my parents, teachers, and all my relations; with kings, queens, nobles, and all people in the thirty-one places of habitation throughout the universe. (Seep. 121of these Lectures.)

Under the head of miscellaneous objects, we may note the seven precious minerals or substances to which allusion has frequently been made. They are gold, silver, pearl, sapphire or ruby, cat’s eye, diamond, and coral (Childers); but they vary, and some authorities substitute lapis lazuli for pearl. In Hindūism there are nine precious substances (nava-ratna).

We may also enumerate here the seven treasures belonging to every universal monarch. These are:—1. a wheel which, being set in motion by the monarch, rolls before him to establish the Law in his dominions; 2. an elephant; 3. a flying horse (seep. 523); 4. a jewel which on the darkest night illuminates the earth for seven miles round (p. 381); 5. a good queen or wife; 6. a good minister or servant, who has the power of discovering hidden treasures; 7. a good general (compare Alabaster’s ‘Wheel of the Law,’ p. 81).

Having during the progress of the foregoing Lectures, incidentally mentioned the subject of Jainism, I ought not to conclude them without explaining some of the chief points of difference between the system of the Jainas (conveniently contracted into Jains) and that of the Buddhists. The Jains in India, according to their own reckoning, number 1,222,000; but this is incorrect, for by the last Census they only number half a million. A great authority (Sir William Wilson Hunter) confirms this. (See his ‘Gazetteer’ and ‘Indian Empire.’)

Most scholars in the present day are of opinion that the Jaina Teacher Vardhamāna Mahā-vīra (Nātaputta) and Gautama Buddha were contemporaries, and that Jains were an independent sceptical sect, probably a little antecedent to the Buddhists, and were their rivals. At any rate it seems certain that the Nigaṇṭhas[277]orDig-ambara Jains, that is, a sect of naked ascetics, existed before the Buddha’s time, and that the Tripiṭaka alludes to them.

Probably Vardhamāna Mahā-vīra (usually called Mahā-vīra) was merely a reformer of a system previously founded by a teacher named Pārṡva-nātha. Not much is known of the latter, though he is greatly honoured by the Jains. His images are ‘serpent-canopied’ like those of Buddha (p. 480). His pupils are called Pāsāvaććijja (for Pārṡvāpatyīya, ‘belonging to the descendants of Pārṡva’). They were only bound by four vows, whereas Mahā-vīra’s teaching imposed five vows.

We have seen that Gautama Buddha, in the fifth centuryB.C., came to the conclusion that bodily austerities were useless as a means of obtaining liberation. His main idea seems to have been that liberation from the painful cycle of continued re-births, that is, from Saṃsāra, was to be obtained by means of knowledge (Bodhi), evolved out of the inner consciousness through meditation (dhyāna) and intuition; whereas, in contradistinction to this Buddhist idea, the main idea of the Jain teacher Mahā-vīra seems to have been that liberation was to be obtained through subjugation of the passions and through mortification of the body (tapas). The term Jina, ‘conqueror,’ is used in both systems, but Gautama Buddha was a Jina or conqueror through profound abstract meditation, whereas Mahā-vīra was a Jina through severe bodily austerity.

In fact, the Jains, like all other ascetics, were impressed with the idea that it was necessary tomaintain a defensive warfare against the assault of evil passions, by keeping under the body and subduing it. They had also a notion that a sense of shame implied sin, so that if there were no sin in the world there would be no shame. Hence they argued rather illogically that to get rid of clothes was to get rid of sin; and every ascetic who aimed at sinlessness was enjoined to walk about naked, with the air or sky (Dig) as his sole covering (Dig-ambara).

In the Kalpa-sūtra of the Jains we read that Mahā-vīra himself began his career by wearing clothes for one year and one month, and after that he walked about naked. Now Gautama Buddha was an opponent of Jain asceticism, and it seems to me probable that one of the chief points on which he laid stress was that of decent clothing. In the Dhamma-pada (141) occurs the sentiment that ‘Nakedness cannot purify a mortal who has not overcome desires.’ And again, in the Sekhiyā Dhammā we have ‘properly clad’ ‘must a monk itinerate.’ (Seep. 473of these Lectures.)

It is recorded in the Vinaya (Mahā-vagga I. 6. 7-9) that Upaka, a man of the Ājīvaka sect of naked ascetics, founded by Gosāla (said to have been a pupil of Mahā-vīra), met the Buddha just after his enlightenment, and noticing his bright countenance, asked him who had been his teacher? He replied, ‘Having gained all knowledge, I am myself the highest teacher.’ Thereupon the naked ascetic shook his head and went another road.

Clearly these naked Nigaṇṭhas, disciples of the Jain Teacher Mahā-vīra, were no friends of the Buddha. Itseems to me even possible that Gautama’s great rival, Deva-datta (see pp.405,406), may have belonged to a Dig-ambara sect who opposed the Buddha on questions of stricter asceticism, especially in the matter of clothing; for in ancient sculptures Deva-datta is generally represented naked or nearly so, and is usually in close proximity to his cousin Gautama Buddha, who, in marked contrast to the other, is always clothed. Evidently the question of dress was a crucial one, and in process of time a party seems to have arisen, even among the Dig-ambara Jains, opposed to strict asceticism in this particular.

This party ultimately formed themselves into a separate sect, calling themselves Ṡvetāmbaras, that is, ‘clothed in white garments.’ It is well known that in early Buddhism two similar parties arose, the strict and the lax. But the two Buddhist parties were ultimately reunited. The second council is supposed to have settled the controversy.

Dr. Jacobi has shown that the separation of the two Jain sects must have taken place (according to the traditions of both parties) some time before the first century of our era.

It appears probable that the strict Dig-ambaras preceded the more lax Ṡvetāmbaras, though each sect claims to be the oldest. The two Jain sects have remained separate to the present day, though in all essential points of doctrine and discipline they agree.

When I was last in India, in 1884, I ascended the two hills, Pārasnāth (for Pārṡva-nāth) and Ābū—bothof them most sacred places in the estimation of the Jains, and covered with their temples. My ascent of the former has been already described (p. 509). I also visited Delhi, Jaypur, Ājmere, and some other chief Jain stations. Jaypur is the stronghold of the Dig-ambara Jains, and two intelligent Dig-ambara Paṇḍits, named Phaṭe Lāl and Syojī Lāl, visited me there. We conversed for a long time in Sanskṛit, and I asked them many questions about their religion, and the points in which they differed from the Ṡvetāmbara sect.

Three chief differences were stated to be: First, the Ṡvetāmbaras object to entirely nude images of any of the twenty-four Jinas or Tīrthaṃ-karas accepted by both sects. Hence all Ṡvetāmbara statues ought to have some appearance of a line round the middle of the body, representing a strip of cloth. In one respect the images of the Jinas differ from those of the Buddhas. They have a jewel-like mark on the breast. This is especially conspicuous in Pārṡva-nāth. They are also of different colours, and have symbols (generally animals, such as a deer, tortoise, pig) connected with them.

Secondly, the Ṡvetāmbaras admit women into their order of ascetics just as Buddhists have their Bhikkhunīs, or nuns; whereas the Dig-ambaras, for obvious reasons, do not admit women.

Thirdly, the Ṡvetāmbaras have distinct sacred books of their own, which they call Aṅgas, ‘limbs of the Law,’ eleven in number, besides others, making 45 Āgamas, 11 Aṅgas, 12 Upāṅgas, 10 Pāinnas (Prakīrṇaka), 4 Mūlas, 6 Ćhedas, 1 Anuyoga-dvāra, and 1 Nandi. Dr. Bühler places the composition of the Aṅgas in the third centuryB.C. Dr. Jacobi places them at the end of the fourth or beginning of the third century. They are written in Jain Prākṛit (sometimes called Ardha-Māgadhī, a later form than Pāli), with Sanskṛit commentaries. The Dig-ambaras substitute, for the Aṅgas, later works, also written in more modern Prākṛit (probably in the fifth or sixth century after Christ), and maintain that the Ṡvetāmbara Canon is spurious. Both sects have valuable Sanskṛit works in their sacred literature.

I now add a few characteristics of both sects of Jains as distinguishing them from Buddhists.

I need scarcely notice the fact that the Jains of the present day keep up Caste. The two Jain Paṇḍits who came to me at Jaypur were Brāhmans, and wore the Brāhmanical thread. I believe this to be a mere modern innovation, which does not properly belong to the Jain system.

More important are the following points:—The Jain saints, or prophets, are called by a peculiar name Tīrthaṃ-kara, ‘ford-makers,’ i. e. making a ford across the troubled river of constant births or transmigrations (Saṃsāra) to the Elysium of Nirvāṇa; whereas the name Tīrthaṃ-kara with the Buddhists means a ‘heretical teacher.’ Then there are twenty-four Jain Tīrthaṃ-karas, whereas there are twenty-five Buddhas. Of the twenty-four Jain saints, the twenty-third and twenty-fourth—Pārṡva-nāth (pp.509,529) and Mahā-vīra—are the only historical personages. The others, beginning with Ṛishabha, are mythical.

Next, the Jains have no Stūpas or Dāgabas (p. 504) for preserving the relics of their saints.

Still more important is the point that the Jains believe in separate individual souls (Jīva), whereas the Buddhists deny the existence of souls. Souls, according to the Jains, may exist in stocks, stones, lumps of earth, drops of water, particles of fire. In Buddhism there is, as we have seen, no true metempsychosis, but rather a connected series of metamorphoses, and this stops at animals; whereas the metempsychosis of Jainism extends to inorganic matter.

With regard to the moral code two or three points may be noticed. The Jaina ‘three jewels’ are Right-belief, Right-knowledge, and Right-conduct, whereas the Buddhist Tri-ratna consists in the well-known Triad—the Buddha, the Law, and the Monkhood.

Then as to the five chief Moral Prohibitions—the fifth with Jains is: ‘have no worldly attachments;’ whereas with Buddhists it is: ‘drink no strong drink.’ I believe the Buddhists to have been the first to introduce total abstinence from strong drinks into India. The Jains, too, lay even more stress than the Buddhists on the first prohibition:—Kill no living creature. They strain water before drinking, sweep the ground with a silken brush before sitting down on it, never eat in the dark, often wear muslin before their mouths to catch minute insects, and even object to eating fruits containing seed.

Another interesting difference is that Jainism makes Dharma and Adharma, good and evil, or rather merit and demerit, two out of its six real substances—its fundamental and eternal principles (Astikāya)—the other four being matter (pudgala), soul (jīva), space andtime. The Jains reject the Buddhist theory of the five Skandhas (seep. 109).

Lastly, the prayer-formula of the Jains differs from the well-known ‘three-refuge’ formula of the Buddhists (‘I go for refuge to the Buddha, the Law, and the order of Monks’) thus: ‘Reverence to the Arhats, to the Siddhas, to the Aćāryas, to the Upādhyāyas, to all the Sādhus’ (Namo Arihantāṇaṃ namo Siddhāṇaṃ namo Ayariyāṇaṃ namo Uvajjhāyāṇaṃ namo loe sabba-sāhūṇaṃ).

Time will not permit me to notice minor differences, such as the Jain rule that the hair should be painfully torn off, instead of cut off, etc.

Certainly Jainism, when viewed from the stand-point of Christianity, is even a colder system than Buddhism, and has even less claim to be called a religion. Yet no system can show a greater number of temples. Every Jain who is noted for his piety builds a small temple. He never repairs the temples of others. At Pālitāna in Kāthiāwār, there is a whole city of Jain temples. Nor is it at all necessary that every temple built to hold a Jain saint should possess either priests or worshippers. What is aimed at is the acquisition of merit by the performance of pious acts.

I must conclude by expressing my opinion that Indian Jainism is gradually drifting back into the current of Brāhmanism, which everywhere surrounds it and attracts it. Jainism, like Buddhism, came out from Brāhmanism, and into Brāhmanism it is destined to return.

In the previous Lectures I have incidentally contrasted the principal doctrines of Buddhism with those of Christianity.

It will be my aim in this concluding Lecture to draw attention more directly and more in detail to the main points of divergence between two systems, which in their moral teaching have so many points of contact, that a superficial study of either is apt to lead to very confused ideas in regard to their comparative excellence and their resemblance to each other.

And first of all I must remind those who heard my earlier Lectures of the grand fundamental distinction which they were intended to establish—namely, that Christianity is a religion, whereas Buddhism, at least in its earliest and truest form, is no religion at all, but a mere system of morality and philosophy founded on a pessimistic theory of life.

Here, however, it may be objected that, before we exclude Buddhism from all title to be called a religion, we ought to define what we mean by the term ‘religion.’

Of course, it will be generally acknowledged that mere morality need not imply religion, though—takingthe converse—it is most undeniably true that religion must of necessity imply morality.

Unquestionably there have been great philosophers in ancient times who have lived strictly moral lives without acknowledging any religious creed at all. Many excellent men, too, exist among us in the present day, who resent being called irreligious, and yet hold no definite religious doctrines, and decline to accept any system which commits them to absolute belief in anything except an eternal Energy or Force.

Clearly the definition of the word ‘religion’ is beset with difficulties, and its etymology is too uncertain to help us in explaining it[278]. We shall, however, be justified if we affirm that every system claiming to be a religion in the proper sense of the word must postulate the eternal existence of one living and true God of infinite power, wisdom, and love, the Creator, Designer, and Preserver of all things visible and invisible.

It must also take for granted the immortality of man’s soul or spirit, and the reality of a future state and of an unseen world. It must also postulate in man an innate sense of dependence on a personal God—a sense of reverence and love for Him, springing from a belief in His justice, holiness, wisdom, power, and love, and intensified by a deep consciousness of weakness, and a yearning to be delivered from the presence, tyranny, and penalty of sin.

Then, starting from these assumptions, it must satisfy four requisites.

First, it must reveal the Creator in His nature and attributes to His creature, man.

Secondly, it must reveal man to himself. It must impart to him a knowledge of his own nature and history—what he is; why he was created; whither he is tending; and whether he is at present in a state of decadence downwards from a higher condition, or of development upwards from a lower.

Thirdly, it must reveal some method by which the finite creature may communicate with the infinite Creator—some plan by which he may gain access to Him and become united with Him, and be saved by Him from the consequences of his own sinful acts.

Fourthly, such a system must prove its title to be called a religion by its regenerating effect on man’s nature; by its influence on his thoughts, desires, passions, and feelings; by its power of subduing all his evil tendencies; by its ability to transform his character and assimilate him to the God it reveals.

It is clear, then, that tried by such a criterion as this, early Buddhism could not claim to be a religion. It failed to satisfy these conditions. It refused to admit the existence of a personal Creator, or of man’s dependence on a higher Power. It denied any eternal soul or Ego in man. It acknowledged no external, supernatural revelation. It had no priesthood—no real clergy; no real prayer; no real worship. It had no true idea of sin, or of the need of pardon (p. 124), and it condemned man to suffer the consequences of his ownsinful acts without hope of help from any Saviour or Redeemer, and indeed from any being but himself.

The late Bishop of Calcutta once said to me, that being in an outlying part of his diocese, where Buddhism prevailed, he asked an apparently pious Buddhist, whom he happened to observe praying in a temple, what he had just been praying for? He replied, ‘I have been praying for nothing.’ ‘But,’ urged the Bishop, ‘to whom have you been praying?’ The man answered, ‘I have been praying to nobody.’ ‘What!’ said the astonished Bishop, ‘praying for nothing to nobody?’ And no doubt this anecdote gives an accurate idea of the so-called prayer of a true Buddhist. This man had not really been praying for anything. He had been merely making use of some form of words to which an efficacy, like that of sowing fruitful seed in a field, was supposed to belong. He had not been praying in any Christian sense.

Here, however, an objector might remind me that according to my own showing, various developments of Buddhism modified and even contradicted the original creed, and that what has been here said about prayer, is only strictly applicable to early Buddhism as originally taught in the most ancient texts.

I grant this—I grant that expressions of reverence for the Buddha, the Law, and the Monkhood, developed into expressions of wants and needs, and that these expressions, gradually led on to the offering of actual prayers to deified Buddhas and Bodhi-sattvas.

I admit that we ought to judge of Buddhism as a whole. We ought to give full consideration to itslater developments, and the gradual sliding of its atheism and agnosticism into theism and polytheism. We are bound to acknowledge that Buddhism, as it extended to other countries,didacquire the character of a theistic religious system, which, though false, had in it some points of contact with Christianity.

Nevertheless, admitting all this, and taking into account all that can be said in favour of Buddhism as a religious system, it will be easy to show how impossible it is to bridge over the yawning chasm which separates it from the true religion.

It is, indeed, one of the strange phenomena of the present day, that even educated people who call themselves Christians, are apt to fall into raptures over the precepts of Buddhism[279], attracted by the bright gems which its admirers delight in culling out of its moral code, and in displaying ostentatiously, while keeping out of sight all its dark spots, all its trivialities and senseless repetitions[280]; not to speak of all those evidencesof deep corruption beneath a whited surface, allthose significant precepts and prohibitions in its books of discipline, which indeed no Christian could soil his lips by uttering[281].

It has even been asserted that much of the teaching in the Sermon on the Mount, and in other parts of the Gospel narratives, is based on previously current moral teaching, which Buddhism was the first to introduce to the world, 500 years before Christ[282]. But this is not all. The admirers of Buddhism maintain that the Buddha was not a mere teacher of the truths of morality, but of many other sublime truths. He has been justly called, say they, ‘the Light of Asia,’ though they condescendingly admit that Christianity as a later development is more adapted to become the religion of the world.

Let us then inquire, for a moment, what claim Gautama Buddha has to this title—‘the Light of Asia?’

Now, in the first place those who give him this name forget that his doctrines only spread over Eastern Asia, and that either Confucius, or Zoroaster, or Muhammad might equally be called ‘the Light of Asia.’

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