Having instructed his mother in heaven with all the angel host, and once more returned to men, he went about converting those capable of it. Gutika, Gîvaka, Sula, and Kûrna, the noble's son Anga and the son of the fearless king Abhaya Nyagrodha and the rest; Srîkutaka, Upâli the Nirgrantha; all these were thoroughly converted. So also the king of Gandhâra, whose name was Fo-kia-lo; he, having heard the profound and excellent law, left his country and became a recluse. So also the demons Himapati and Vâtagiri, on the mountain Vibhâra, were subdued and converted. The Brahmakârin Prayantika, on the mountain Vagana, by the subtle meaning of half a gâtha, he convinced and caused to rejoice in faith; the village of Dânamati had one Kûtadanta, the head of the twice-born Brahmans; at this time he was sacrificing countless victims; Tathâgata by means converted him, and caused him to enter the true path. On Mount Bhatika a heavenly being of eminent distinction, whose name was Pañkasikha, receiving the law, attained Dhyâna; in the village of Vainushta, he converted the mother of the celebrated Nanda. In the town of Añkavari, he subdued the powerful mahâbâla spirit; Bhanabhadra, Sronadanta, the malevolent and powerful Nâgas, the king of the country and his harem, received together the true law, as he opened to them the gate of immortality. In the celebrated Viggi village, Kina and Sila, earnestly seeking to be born in heaven, he converted and made to enter the right path. The Angulimâla, in that village of Sumu, through the exhibition of his divine power, he converted and subdued; there was that noble's son, Purigîvana, rich in wealth and stores as Punavatî, directly he was brought to Buddha, accepting the doctrine, he became vastly liberal. So in that village of Padatti he converted the celebrated Patali, and also Patala, brothers, and both demons. In Bhidhavali there were two Brahmans, one called Great-age, the other Brahma-age. These by the power of a discourse he subdued, and caused them to attain knowledge of the true law; when he came to Vaisâlî, he converted all the Raksha demons, and the lion of the Likkhavis, and all the Likkhavis, Saka the Nirgrantha, all these he caused to attain the true law. Hama kinkhava had a demon Potala, and another Potalaka, these he converted.Again he came to Mount Ala, to convert the demon Alava, and a second called Kumâra, and a third Asidaka; then going back to Mount Gaga he converted the demon Kañgana, and Kamo the Yaksha, with the sister and son. Then coming to Benares, he converted the celebrated Katyâyana; then afterwards going, by his miraculous power, to Sruvala, he converted the merchants Davakin and Nikin, and received their sandalwood hall, exhaling its fragrant odors till now. Going then to Mahîvatî, he converted the Rishi Kapila, and the Muni remained with him; his foot stepping on the stone, the thousand-spoked twin-wheels appeared, which never could be erased.
Then he came to the place Po-lo-na, where he converted the demon Po-lo-na; coming to the country of Mathurâ, he converted the demon Godama. In the Thurakusati he also converted Pindapâla; coming to the village of Vairañga, he converted the Brahman; in the village of Kalamasa, he converted Savasasin, and also that celebrated Agirivasa. Once more returning to the Srâvastî country, he converted the Gautamas Gâtisruna and Dakâtili; returning to the Kosala country, he converted the leaders of the heretics Vakrapali and all the Brahmakârins. Coming to Satavaka, in the forest retreat, he converted the heretical Rishis, and constrained them to enter the path of the Buddha Rishi. Coming to the country of Ayodhyâ, he converted the demon Nâgas; coming to the country of Kimbila, he converted the two Nâgarâgas; one called Kimbila, the other called Kâlaka. Again coming to the Vaggi country, he converted the Yaksha demon, whose name was Pisha, the father and mother of Nâgara, and the great noble also, he caused to believe gladly in the true law. Coming to the Kausârubî country, he converted Goshira, and the two Upasikâs, Vaguttarâ and her companion Uvari; and besides these, many others, one after the other. Coming to the country of Gandhâra he converted the Nâga Apalâla; thus in due order all these air-going, water-loving natures he completely converted and saved, as the sun when he shines upon some dark and sombre cave. At this time Devadatta, seeing the remarkable excellences of Buddha, conceived in his heart a jealous hatred; losing all power of thoughtful abstraction he ever plotted wicked schemes, to put a stop to the spread of the true law; ascending the Gridhrakûta mount he rolled down a stone to hit Buddha; the stone divided into two parts, each part passingon either side of him. Again, on the royal highway he loosed a drunken, vicious elephant. With his raised trunk trumpeting as thunder he ran, his maddened breath raising a cloud around him, his wild pace like the rushing wind, to be avoided more than the fierce tempest; his trunk and tusks and tail and feet, when touched only, brought instant death. Thus he ran through the streets and ways of Râgagriha, madly wounding and killing men; their corpses lay across the road, their brains and blood scattered afar. Then all the men and women filled with fear, remained indoors; throughout the city there was universal terror, only piteous shrieks and cries were heard; beyond the city men were running fast, hiding themselves in holes and dens. Tathâgata, with five hundred followers, at this time came towards the city; from tops of gates and every window, men, fearing for Buddha, begged him not to advance; Tathâgata, his heart composed and quiet, with perfect self-possession, thinking only on the sorrow caused by hate, his loving heart desiring to appease it, followed by guardian angel-nâgas, slowly approached the maddened elephant. The Bhikshus all deserted him, Ânanda only remained by his side; joined by every tie of duty, his steadfast nature did not shake or quail. The drunken elephant, savage and spiteful, beholding Buddha, came to himself at once, and bending, worshipped at his feet just as a mighty mountain falls to earth. With lotus hand the master pats his head, even as the moon lights up a flying cloud. And now, as he lay crouched before the master's feet, on his account he speaks some sacred words: "The elephant cannot hurt the mighty dragon, hard it is to fight with such a one; the elephant desiring so to do will in the end obtain no happy state of birth; deceived by lust, anger, and delusion, which are hard to conquer, but which Buddha has conquered. Now, then, this very day, give up this lust, this anger and delusion! You! swallowed up in sorrow's mud! if not now given up, they will increase yet more and grow."
The elephant, hearing Buddha's words, escaped from drunkenness, rejoiced in heart; his mind and body both found rest, as one athirst finds joy who drinks of heavenly dew. The elephant being thus converted, the people around were filled with joy; they all raised a cry of wonder at the miracle, and brought their offerings of every kind. The scarcely-good arrived at middle-virtue, the middling-good passed to a higher grade, theunbelieving now became believers, those who believed were strengthened in their faith. Agâtasatru, mighty king, seeing how Buddha conquered the drunken elephant, was moved at heart by thoughts profound; then, filled with joy, he found a twofold growth of piety. Tathâgata, by exercise of virtue, exhibited all kinds of spiritual powers; thus he subdued and harmonized the minds of all, and caused them in due order to attain religious truth, and through the kingdom virtuous seeds were sown, as at the first when men began to live. But Devadatta, mad with rage, because he was ensnared by his own wickedness, at first by power miraculous able to fly, now fallen, dwells in lowest hell.
The lord of the world having finished his wide work of conversion conceived in himself a desire for Nirvana. Accordingly proceeding from the city of Râgagriha, he went on towards the town of Pâtaliputra.
Having arrived there, he dwelt in the famous Pâtali ketiya. Now this town of Pâtaliputra is the frontier town of Magadha, defending the outskirts of the country. Ruling the country was a Brahman of wide renown and great learning in the scriptures; and there was also an overseer of the country, to take the omens of the land with respect to rest or calamity. At this time the king of Magadha sent to that officer of inspection a messenger, to warn and command him to raise fortifications in the neighborhood of the town for its security and protection. And now the lord of the world, as they were raising the fortifications, predicted that in consequence of the Devas and spirits who protected and kept the land, the place should continue strong and free from calamity or destruction. On this the heart of the overseer greatly rejoiced, and he made religious offerings to Buddha, the law, and the church. Buddha now leaving the city gate went on towards the river Ganges. The overseer, from his deep reverence for Buddha, named the gate through which the lord had passed the "Gautama gate." Meanwhile the people all by the side of the river Ganges went forth to pay reverence to the lord of the world. They prepared for him every kind of religious offering, and each one with his gaudy boat invited him to cross over. The lord of the world, consideringthe number of the boats, feared lest by an appearance of partiality in accepting one, he might hurt the minds of all the rest. Therefore in a moment, by his spiritual power, he transported himself and the great congregation across the river, leaving this shore he passed at once to that, signifying thereby the passage in the boat of wisdom from this world to Nirvâna: a boat large enough to transport all that lives to save the world, even as without a boat he crossed without hindrance the river Ganges. Then all the people on the bank of the river, with one voice, raised a rapturous shout, and all declared this ford should be called the Gautama ford. As the city gate is called the Gautama gate, so this Gautama ford is so known through ages; and shall be so called through generations to come. Then Tathâgata, going forward still, came to that celebrated Kuli village, where he preached and converted many; again he went on to the Nâdi village, where many deaths had occurred among the people. The friends of the dead then came to the lord and asked, "Where have our friends and relatives deceased, now gone to be born, after this life ended?" Buddha, knowing well the sequence of deeds, answered each according to his several needs. Then going forward to Vaisâlî, he located himself in the Âmrâ grove. The celebrated Lady Âmrâ, well affected to Buddha, went to that garden followed by her waiting women, whilst the children from the schools paid her respect. Thus with circumspection and self-restraint, her person lightly and plainly clothed, putting away all her ornamented robes and all adornments of scent and flowers, as a prudent and virtuous woman goes forth to perform her religious duties, so she went on, beautiful to look upon, like any Devî in appearance. Buddha seeing the lady in the distance approaching, spake thus to all the Bhikshus:—
"This woman is indeed exceedingly beautiful, able to fascinate the minds of the religious; now then, keep your recollection straight! let wisdom keep your mind in subjection! Better fall into the fierce tiger's mouth, or under the sharp knife of the executioner, than to dwell with a woman and excite in yourselves lustful thoughts. A woman is anxious to exhibit her form and shape, whether walking, standing, sitting, or sleeping. Even when represented as a picture, she desires most of all to set off the blandishments of her beauty, and thus to rob men of their steadfast heart! How then ought you to guardyourselves? By regarding her tears and her smiles as enemies, her stooping form, her hanging arms, and all her disentangled hair as toils designed to entrap man's heart. Then how much more should you suspect her studied, amorous beauty; when she displays her dainty outline, her richly ornamented form, and chatters gayly with the foolish man! Ah, then! what perturbation and what evil thoughts, not seeing underneath the horrid, tainted shape, the sorrows of impermanence, the impurity, the unreality! Considering these as the reality, all lustful thoughts die out; rightly considering these, within their several limits, not even an Apsaras would give you joy. But yet the power of lust is great with men, and is to be feared withal; take then the bow of earnest perseverance, and the sharp arrow points of wisdom, cover your head with the helmet of right-thought, and fight with fixed resolve against the five desires. Better far with red-hot iron pins bore out both your eyes, than encourage in yourselves lustful thoughts, or look upon a woman's form with such desires. Lust beclouding a man's heart, confused with woman's beauty, the mind is dazed, and at the end of life that man must fall into an 'evil way.' Fear then the sorrow of that 'evil way!' and harbor not the deceits of women. The senses not confined within due limits, and the objects of sense not limited as they ought to be, lustful and covetous thoughts grow up between the two, because the senses and their objects are unequally yoked. Just as when two ploughing oxen are yoked together to one halter and cross-bar, but not together pulling as they go, so is it when the senses and their objects are unequally matched. Therefore, I say, restrain the heart, give it no unbridled license."
Thus Buddha, for the Bhikshus' sake, explained the law in various ways. And now that Âmrâ lady gradually approached the presence of the lord; seeing Buddha seated beneath a tree, lost in thought and wholly absorbed by it, she recollected that he had a great compassionate heart, and therefore she believed he would in pity receive her garden grove. With steadfast heart and joyful mien and rightly governed feelings, her outward form restrained, her heart composed, bowing her head at Buddha's feet, she took her place as the lord bade her, whilst he in sequence right declared the law:—
"Your heart, O lady! seems composed and quieted, your form without external ornaments; young in years and rich, youseem well-talented as you are beautiful. That one, so gifted, should by faith be able to receive the law of righteousness is, indeed, a rare thing in the world! The wisdom of a master derived from former births, enables him to accept the law with joy: this is not rare; but that a woman, weak of will, scant in wisdom, deeply immersed in love, should yet be able to delight in piety, this, indeed, is very rare. A man born in the world, by proper thought comes to delight in goodness, he recognizes the impermanence of wealth and beauty, and looks upon religion as his best ornament. He feels that this alone can remedy the ills of life and change the fate of young and old; the evil destiny that cramps another's life cannot affect him, living righteously; always removing that which excites desire, he is strong in the absence of desire; seeking to find, not what vain thoughts suggest, but that to which religion points him. Relying on external help, he has sorrow; self-reliant, there is strength and joy. But in the case of woman, from another comes the labor, and the nurture of another's child. Thus then should everyone consider well, and loathe and put away the form of woman."
Âmrâ, the lady, hearing the law, rejoiced. Her wisdom strengthened, and still more enlightened, she was enabled to cast off desire, and of herself dissatisfied with woman's form, was freed from all polluting thoughts. Though still constrained to woman's form, filled with religious joy, she bowed at Buddha's feet and spoke: "Oh! may the lord, in deep compassion, receive from me, though ignorant, this offering, and so fulfil my earnest vow." Then Buddha knowing her sincerity, and for the good of all that lives, silently accepted her request, and caused in her full joy, in consequence; whilst all her friends attentive, grew in knowledge, and, after adoration, went back home.
At this time the great men among the Likkhavis, hearing that the lord of the world had entered their country and was located in the Âmrâ garden, went thither riding in their gaudy chariots with silken canopies, and clothed in gorgeous robes, both blue and red and yellow and white, each one with his own cognizance. Accompanied by their body guard surrounding them, they went; others prepared the road in front; and with their heavenly crowns and flower-bespangled robes they rode, richly dight with every kind of costly ornament. Their noble forms resplendent increased the glory of that garden grove; now taking off the five distinctive ornaments, alighting from their chariots, they advanced afoot. Slowly thus, with bated breath, their bodies reverent they advanced. Then they bowed down and worshipped Buddha's foot, and, a great multitude, they gathered round the lord, shining as the sun's disc, full of radiance.
There was the lion Likkhavi, among the Likkhavis the senior, his noble form bold as the lion's, standing there with lion eyes, but without the lion's pride, taught by the Sâkya lion, who thus began: "Great and illustrious personages, famed as a tribe for grace and comeliness! put aside, I pray, the world's high thoughts, and now accept the abounding lustre of religious teaching. Wealth and beauty, scented flowers and ornaments like these, are not to be compared for grace with moral rectitude! Your land productive and in peaceful quiet—this is your great renown; but true gracefulness of body and a happy people depend upon the heart well-governed. Add but to this a reverent feeling for religion, then a people's fame is at its height! a fertile land and all the dwellers in it, as a united body, virtuous! To-day then learn this virtue, cherish with carefulness the people, lead them as a body in the right way of rectitude, evenas the ox-king leads the way across the river-ford. If a man with earnest recollection ponder on things of this world and the next, he will consider how by right behavior right morals he prepares, as the result of merit, rest in either world. For all in this world will exceedingly revere him, his fame will spread abroad through every part, the virtuous will rejoice to call him friend, and the outflowings of his goodness will know no bounds forever. The precious gems found in the desert wilds are all from earth engendered; moral conduct, likewise, as the earth, is the great source of all that is good. By this, without the use of wings, we fly through space, we cross the river needing not a handy boat; but without this a man will find it hard indeed to cross the stream of sorrow or stay the rush of sorrow. As when a tree with lovely flowers and fruit, pierced by some sharp instrument, is hard to climb, so is it with the much-renowned for strength and beauty, who break through the laws of moral rectitude! Sitting upright in the royal palace, the heart of the king was grave and majestic; with a view to gain the merit of a pure and moral life, he became a convert of a great Rishi. With garments dyed and clad with hair, shaved, save one spiral knot, he led a hermit's life, but, as he did not rule himself with strict morality, he was immersed in suffering and sorrow. Each morn and eve he used the three ablutions, sacrificed to fire and practised strict austerity, let his body be in filth as the brute beast, passed through fire and water, dwelt amidst the craggy rocks, inhaled the wind, drank from the Ganges' stream, controlled himself with bitter fasts—but all! far short of moral rectitude. For though a man inure himself to live as any brute, he is not on that account a vessel of the righteous law; whilst he who breaks the laws of right behavior invites detraction, and is one no virtuous man can love; his heart is ever filled with boding fear, his evil name pursues him as a shadow. Having neither profit nor advantage in this world, how can he in the next world reap content? Therefore the wise man ought to practise pure behavior; passing through the wilderness of birth and death, pure conduct is to him a virtuous guide. From pure behavior comes self-power, which frees a man from many dangers; pure conduct, like a ladder, enables us to climb to heaven. Those who found themselves on right behavior, cut off the source of pain and grief; but they who by transgression destroy this mind, may mourn the loss of every virtuous principle. Togain this end first banish every ground of 'self'; this thought of 'self' shades every lofty aim, even as the ashes that conceal the fire, treading on which the foot is burned. Pride and indifference shroud this heart, too, as the sun is obscured by the piled-up clouds; supercilious thoughts root out all modesty of mind, and sorrow saps the strongest will. As age and disease waste youthful beauty, so pride of self destroys all virtue; the Devas and Asuras, thus from jealousy and envy, raised mutual strife. The loss of virtue and of merit which we mourn, proceeds from 'pride of self' throughout; and as I am a conqueror amid conquerors, so he who conquers self is one with me. He who little cares to conquer self, is but a foolish master; beauty, or earthly things, family renown and such things, all are utterly inconstant, and what is changeable can give no rest of interval. If in the end the law of entire destruction is exacted, what use is there in indolence and pride? Covetous desire is the greatest source of sorrow, appearing as a friend in secret 'tis our enemy. As a fierce fire excited from within a house, so is the fire of covetous desire: the burning flame of covetous desire is fiercer far than fire which burns the world. For fire may be put out by water in excess, but what can overpower the fire of lust? The fire which fiercely burns the desert grass dies out, and then the grass will grow again; but when the fire of lust burns up the heart, then how hard for true religion there to dwell! for lust seeks worldly pleasures, these pleasures add to an impure karman; by this evil karman a man falls into perdition, and so there is no greater enemy to man than lust. Lusting, man gives way to amorous indulgence, by this he is led to practise every kind of lustful longing; indulging thus, he gathers frequent sorrow. No greater evil is there than lust. Lust is a dire disease, and the foolish master stops the medicine of wisdom. The study of heretical books not leading to right thought, causes the lustful heart to increase and grow, for these books are not correct on the points of impermanency, the non-existence of self, and any object ground for 'self.' But a true and right apprehension through the power of wisdom, is effectual to destroy that false desire, and therefore our object should be to practise this true apprehension. Right apprehension once produced then there is deliverance from covetous desire, for a false estimate of excellency produces a covetous desire to excel, whilst a false view of demerit produces anger and regret;but the idea of excelling and also of inferiority (in the sense of demerit) both destroyed, the desire to excel and also anger (on account of inferiority) are destroyed. Anger! how it changes the comely face, how it destroys the loveliness of beauty! Anger dulls the brightness of the eye, chokes all desire to hear the principles of truth, cuts and divides the principle of family affection, impoverishes and weakens every worldly aim. Therefore let anger be subdued, yield not to the angry impulse; he who can hold his wild and angry heart is well entitled 'illustrious charioteer.' For men call such a one 'illustrious team-breaker' who can with bands restrain the unbroken steed; so anger not subdued, its fire unquenched, the sorrow of repentance burns like fire. A man who allows wild passion to arise within, himself first burns his heart, then after burning adds the wind thereto which ignites the fire again, or not, as the case may be. The pain of birth, old age, disease, and death, press heavily upon the world, but adding 'passion' to the score, what is this but to increase our foes when pressed by foes? But rather, seeing how the world is pressed by throngs of grief, we ought to encourage in us love, and as the world produces grief on grief, so should we add as antidotes unnumbered remedies." Tathâgata, illustrious in expedients, according to the disease, thus briefly spoke; even as a good physician in the world, according to the disease, prescribes his medicine. And now the Likkhavis, hearing the sermon preached by Buddha, arose forthwith and bowed at Buddha's feet, and joyfully they placed them on their heads. Then they asked both Buddha and the congregation on the morrow to accept their poor religious offerings. But Buddha told them that already Âmrâ had invited him. On this the Likkhavis, harboring thoughts of pride and disappointment, said: "Why should that one take away our profit?" But, knowing Buddha's heart to be impartial and fair, they once again regained their cheerfulness. Tathâgata, moreover, nobly seizing the occasion, appeasing them, produced within a joyful heart; and so subdued, their grandeur of appearance came again, as when a snake subdued by charms glistens with shining skin. And now, the night being passed, the signs of dawn appearing, Buddha and the great assembly go to the abode of Âmrâ, and having received her entertainment, they went on to the village of Pi-nau, and there he rested during the rainy season; the three months' rest being ended,again he returned to Vaisâli, and dwelt beside the Monkey Tank; sitting there in a shady grove, he shed a flood of glory from his person; aroused thereby, Mâra Pisuna came to the place where Buddha was, and with closed palms exhorted him thus: "Formerly, beside the Nairañganâ river, when you had accomplished your true and steadfast aim, you said, 'When I have done all I have to do, then will I pass at once to Nirvâna'; and now you have done all you have to do, you should, as then you said, pass to Nirvâna."
Then Buddha spake to Pisuna: "The time of my complete deliverance is at hand, but let three months elapse, and I shall reach Nirvâna." Then Mâra, knowing that Tathâgata had fixed the time for his emancipation, his earnest wish being thus fulfilled, joyous returned to his abode in heaven. Tathâgata, seated beneath a tree, straightway was lost in ecstasy, and willingly rejected his allotted years, and by his spiritual power fixed the remnant of his life. On this, Tathâgata thus giving up his years, the great earth shook and quaked through all the limits of the universe; great flames of fire were seen around, the tops of Sumeru were shaken, from heaven there rained showers of flying stones, a whirling tempest rose on every side, the trees were rooted up and fell, heavenly music rose with plaintive notes, whilst angels for a time were joyless. Buddha rising from out his ecstasy, announced to all the world: "Now have I given up my term of years; I live henceforth by power of faith; my body like a broken chariot stands, no further cause of 'coming' or of 'going'; completely freed from the three worlds, I go enfranchised, as a chicken from its egg."
The venerable Ânanda, seeing the earth shaking on every side, his heart was tearful and his hair erect; he asked the cause thereof of Buddha.
Buddha replied: "Ânanda! I have fixed three months to end my life, the rest of life I utterly give up; this is the reason why the earth is greatly shaken."
Ânanda, hearing the instruction of Buddha, was moved with pity and the tears flowed down his face, even as when an elephant of mighty strength shakes the sandal-wood tree. Thus was Ânanda shaken and his mind perturbed, whilst down hischeeks the tears, like drops of perfume, flowed; so much he loved the lord his master, so full of kindness was he, and, as yet, not freed from earthly thoughts. Thinking then on these four things alone, he gave his grief full liberty, nor could he master it, but said, "Now I hear the lord declare that he has fixed for good his time to die, my body fails, my strength is gone, my mind is dazed, my soul is all discordant, and all the words of truth forgotten; a wild deserted waste seems heaven and earth. Have pity! save me, master! perish not so soon! Perished with bitter cold, I chanced upon a fire—forthwith it disappeared. Wandering amid the wilds of grief and pain, deceived, confused, I lost my way—suddenly a wise and prudent guide encountered me, but hardly saved from my bewilderment, he once more vanished. Like some poor man treading through endless mud, weary and parched with thirst, longs for the water, suddenly he lights upon a cool refreshing lake, he hastens to it—lo! it dries before him. The deep blue, bright, refulgent eye, piercing through all the worlds, with wisdom brightens the dark gloom, the darkness for a moment is dispelled. As when the blade shoots through the yielding earth, the clouds collect and we await the welcome shower, then a fierce wind drives the big clouds away, and so with disappointed hope we watch the dried-up field! Deep darkness reigned for want of wisdom, the world of sentient creatures groped for light, Tathâgata lit up the lamp of wisdom, then suddenly extinguished it—ere he had brought it out."
Buddha, hearing Ânanda speaking thus, grieved at his words, and pitying his distress, with soothing accents and with gentle presence spake with purpose to declare the one true law:—
"If men but knew their own nature, they would not dwell in sorrow; everything that lives, whate'er it be, all this is subject to destruction's law; I have already told you plainly, the law of things 'joined' is to 'separate'; the principle of kindness and of love is not abiding, 'tis better then to reject this pitiful and doting heart. All things around us bear the stamp of instant change; born, they perish; no self-sufficiency; those who would wish to keep them long, find in the end no room for doing so. If things around us could be kept for aye, and were not liable to change or separation, then this would be salvation! where then can this be sought? You, and all that lives, can seek in me this great deliverance! That which you mayall attain I have already told you, and tell you, to the end. Why then should I preserve this body? The body of the excellent law shall long endure! I am resolved; I look for rest! This is the one thing needful. So do I now instruct all creatures, and as a guide, not seen before, I lead them; prepare yourselves to cast off consciousness, fix yourselves well in your own island. Those who are thus fixed mid-stream, with single aim and earnestness striving in the use of means, preparing quietly a quiet place, not moved by others' way of thinking, know well, such men are safe on the law's island. Fixed in contemplation, lighted by the lamp of wisdom, they have thus finally destroyed ignorance and gloom. Consider well the world's four bounds, and dare to seek for true religion only; forget 'yourself,' and every 'ground of self,' the bones, the nerves, the skin, the flesh, the mucus, the blood that flows through every vein; behold these things as constantly impure, what joy then can there be in such a body? every sensation born from cause, like the bubble floating on the water. The sorrow coming from the consciousness of birth and death and inconstancy, removes all thought of joy—the mind acquainted with the law of production, stability, and destruction, recognizes how again and once again things follow or succeed one another with no endurance. But thinking well about Nirvâna, the thought of endurance is forever dismissed; we see how the samskâras from causes have arisen, and how these aggregates will again dissolve, all of them impermanent. The foolish man conceives the idea of 'self,' the wise man sees there is no ground on which to build the idea of 'self,' thus through the world he rightly looks and well concludes, all, therefore, is but evil; the aggregate amassed by sorrow must perish in the end! if once confirmed in this conviction, that man perceives the truth. This body, too, of Buddha now existing soon will perish: the law is one and constant, and without exception." Buddha having delivered this excellent sermon, appeased the heart of Ânanda.
Then all the Likkhavis, hearing the report, with fear and apprehension assembled in a body; devoid of their usual ornaments, they hastened to the place where Buddha was. Having saluted him according to custom, they stood on one side, wishing to ask him a question, but not being able to find words. Buddha, knowing well their heart, by way of remedy, in the right use of means, spake thus:—
"Now I perfectly understand that you have in your minds unusual thoughts, not referring to worldly matters, but wholly connected with subjects of religion; and now you wish to hear from me, what may be known respecting the report about my resolve to terminate my life, and my purpose to put an end to the repetition of birth. Impermanence is the nature of all that exists, constant change and restlessness its conditions; unfixed, unprofitable, without the marks of long endurance. In ancient days the Rishi kings, Vasishtha Rishi, Mândhâtri, the Kakravartin monarchs, and the rest, these and all others like them, the former conquerors, who lived with strength like Îsvara, these all have long ago perished, not one remains till now; the sun and moon, Sakra himself, and the great multitude of his attendants, will all, without exception, perish; there is not one that can for long endure; all the Buddhas of the past ages, numerous as the sands of the Ganges, by their wisdom enlightening the world, have all gone out as a lamp; all the Buddhas yet to come will also perish in the same way; why then should I alone be different? I too will pass into Nirvana; but as they prepared others for salvation, so now should you press forward in the path; Vaisâli may be glad indeed, if you should find the way of rest! The world, in truth, is void of help, the 'three worlds' not enough for joy—stay then the course of sorrow, by engendering a heart without desire. Give up for good the long and straggling way of life, press onward on the northern track, step by step advance along the upward road, as the sun skirts along the western mountains."
At this time the Likkhavis, with saddened hearts, went back along the way; lifting their hands to heaven and sighing bitterly: "Alas! what sorrow this! His body like the pure gold mountain, the marks upon his person so majestic, ere long and like a towering crag he falls; not to live, then why not, 'not to love'? The powers of birth and death, weakened awhile, the lord Tathâgata, himself the fount of wisdom appeared, and now to give it up and disappear! without a saviour now, what check to sorrow? The world long time endured in darkness, and men were led by a false light along the way—when lo! the sun of wisdom rose; and now, again, it fades and dies—no warning given. Behold the whirling waves of ignorance engulfing all the world! Why is the bridge or raft of wisdom in a moment cut away? The loving and the great physician king came withremedies of wisdom, beyond all price, to heal the hurts and pains of men—why suddenly goes he away? The excellent and heavenly flag of love adorned with wisdom's blazonry, embroidered with the diamond heart, the world not satisfied with gazing on it, the glorious flag of heavenly worship! Why in a moment is it snapped? Why such misfortune for the world, when from the tide of constant revolutions a way of escape was opened—but now shut again! and there is no escape from weary sorrow! Tathâgata, possessed of fond and loving heart, now steels himself and goes away; he holds his heart so patient and so loving, and, like the Wai-ka-ni flower, with thoughts cast down, irresolute and tardy, he goes depressed along the road. Or like a man fresh from a loved one's grave, the funeral past and the last farewell taken, comes back with anxious look."
When Buddha went towards the place of his Nirvâna, the city of Vaisâli was as if deserted, as when upon a dark and cloudy night the moon and stars withdraw their shining. The land that heretofore had peace, was now afflicted and distressed; as when a loving father dies, the orphan daughter yields to constant grief. Her personal grace unheeded, her clever skill but lightly thought of, with stammering lips she finds expression for her thoughts; how poor her brilliant wit and wisdom now! Her spiritual powers ill regulated without attractiveness, her loving heart faint and fickle, exalted high but without strength, and all her native grace neglected; such was the case at Vaisâli; all outward show now fallen, like autumn verdure in the fields bereft of water, withered up and dry; or like the smoke of a half-smouldering fire, or like those who having food before them yet forget to eat, so these forgot their common household duties, and nought prepared they for the day's emergencies. Thinking thus on Buddha, lost in deep reflection, silent they sat nor spoke a word. And now the lion Likkhavis manfully enduring their great sorrow, with flowing tears and doleful sighs, signifying thereby their love of kindred, destroyed forever all their books of heresy, to show their firm adherence to the true law. Having put down all heresy, they left it once for all; severed from the world and the world's doctrines, convinced that non-continuance was the great disease. Moreover thusthey thought: "The lord of men now enters the great quiet place (Nirvâna), and we are left without support, and with no saviour; the highest lord of 'means' is now about to extinguish all his glory in the final place of death. Now we indeed have lost our steadfast will, as fire deprived of fuel; greatly to be pitied is the world, now that the lord gives up his world-protecting office, even as a man bereft of spiritual power throughout the world is greatly pitied. Oppressed by heat we seek the cooling lake, nipped by the cold we use the fire; but in a moment all is lost, the world is left without resource; the excellent law, indeed, is left, to frame the world anew, as a metal-caster frames anew his work. The world has lost its master-guide, and, men bereaved of him, the way is lost; old age, disease, and death, self-sufficient, now that the road is missed, pervade the world without a way. What is there now throughout the world equal to overcome the springs of these great sorrows? The great cloud's rain alone can make the raging and excessive fire, that burns the world, go out. So only he can make the raging fire of covetous desire go out; and now he, the skilful maker of comparisons, has firmly fixed his mind to leave the world! And why, again, is the sword of wisdom, ever ready to be used for an uninvited friend, only like the draught of wine given to him about to undergo the torture and to die? Deluded by false knowledge the mass of living things are only born to die again; as the sharp knife divides the wood, so constant change divides the world. The gloom of ignorance like the deep water, lust like the rolling billow, sorrow like the floating bubbles, false views like the Makara fish, amidst all these the ship of wisdom only can carry us across the mighty sea. The mass of ills are like the flowers of the sorrow-tree, old age and all its griefs, the tangled boughs; death the tree's tap-root, deeds done in life the buds, the diamond sword of wisdom only strong enough to cut down the mundane tree! Ignorance the burning-glass, covetous desire the scorching rays, the objects of the five desires the dry grass, wisdom alone the water to put out the fire. The perfect law, surpassing every law, having destroyed the gloom of ignorance, we see the straight road leading to quietness and rest, the end of every grief and sorrow. And now the loving one, converting men, impartial in his thoughts to friend or foe, the all-knowing, perfectly instructed, even he is going to leave the world! He with his soft and finely modulated voice, hiscompact body and broad shoulders, he, the great Rishi, ends his life! Who then can claim exemption? Enlightened, now he quickly passes hence! let us therefore seek with earnestness the truth, even as a man meets with the stream beside the road, then drinks and passes on. Inconstancy, this is the dreaded enemy—the universal destroyer—sparing neither rich nor poor; rightly perceiving this and keeping it in mind, this man, though sleeping, yet is the only ever-wakeful."
Thus the Likkhavi lions, ever mindful of the Buddha's wisdom, disquieted with the pain of birth and death, sighed forth their fond remembrance of the man-lion. Retaining in their minds no love of worldly things, aiming to rise above the power of every lustful quality, subduing in their hearts the thought of light or trivial matters, training their thoughts to seek the quiet, peaceful place; diligently practising the rules of unselfish, charitable conduct; putting away all listlessness, they found their joy in quietness and seclusion, meditating only on religious truth. And now the all-wise, turning his body round with a lion-turn, once more gazed upon Vaisâli, and uttered this farewell verse:—
"Now this, the last time this, I leave Vaisâli—the land where heroes live and flourish! Now am I going to die." Then gradually advancing, stage by stage he came to Bhoga-nagara, and there he rested in the Sâla grove, where he instructed all his followers in the precepts:—
"Now having gone on high I shall enter on Nirvana: ye must rely upon the law—this is your highest, strongest, vantage ground. What is not found in Sûtra, or what disagrees with rules of Vinaya, opposing the one true system of my doctrine, this must not be held by you. What opposes Dharma, what opposes Vinaya, or what is contrary to my words, this is the result of ignorance: ye must not hold such doctrine, but with haste reject it. Receiving that which has been said aright, this is not subversive of true doctrine, this is what I have said, as the Dharma and Vinaya say. Accepting that which I, the law, and the Vinaya declare, this is to be believed. But words which neither I, the law, nor the Vinaya declare, these are not to be believed. Not gathering the true and hidden meaning, but closely holding to the letter, this is the way of foolish teachers, but contrary to my doctrine and a false way of teaching. Not separating the true from false, accepting in the dark withoutdiscrimination, is like a shop where gold and its alloys are sold together, justly condemned by all the world. The foolish masters, practising the ways of superficial wisdom, grasp not the meaning of the truth; but to receive the law as it explains itself, this is to accept the highest mode of exposition. Ye ought, therefore, thus to investigate true principles, to consider well the true law and the Vinaya, even as the goldsmith does who melts and strikes and then selects the true. Not to know the Sûtras and the Sâstras, this is to be devoid of wisdom; not saying properly that which is proper, is like doing that which is not fit to see. Let all be done in right and proper order, according as the meaning of the sentence guides, for he who grasps a sword unskilfully, does but inflict a wound upon his hand. Not skilfully to handle words and sentences, the meaning then is hard to know; as in the night-time travelling and seeking for a house, if all be dark within, how difficult to find. Losing the meaning, then the law is disregarded, disregarding the law the mind becomes confused; therefore every wise and prudent master neglects not to discover the true and faithful meaning."
Having spoken these words respecting the precepts of religion, he advanced to the town of Pâvâ, where all the Mallas prepared for him religious offerings of every kind. At this time a certain householder's son whose name was Kunda, invited Buddha to his house, and there he gave him, as an offering, his very last repast. Having partaken of it and declared the law, he onward went to the town of Kusi, crossing the river Tsae-kieuh and the Hiranyavati. Then in that Sâla grove, a place of quiet and seclusion, he took his seat: entering the golden river he bathed his body, in appearance like a golden mountain. Then he spake his bidding thus to Ânanda: "Between those twin Sâla trees, sweeping and watering, make a clean space, and then arrange my sitting-mat. At midnight coming, I shall die."
Ânanda hearing the bidding of his master, his breath was choked with heart-sadness; but going and weeping he obeyed the instruction, and spreading out the mat he came forthwith back to his master and acquainted him. Tathâgata having lain down with his head towards the north and on his right side, slept thus. Resting upon his hand as on a pillow with his feet crossed, even as a lion-king; all grief is passed, his last-bornbody from this one sleep shall never rise. His followers round him, in a circle gathered, sigh dolefully: "The eye of the world is now put out!" The wind is hushed, the forest streams are silent, no voice is heard of bird or beast. The trees sweat out large flowing drops, flowers and leaves out of season singly fall, whilst men and Devas, not yet free from desire, are filled with overwhelming fear. Thus were they like men wandering through the arid desert, the road full dangerous, who fail to reach the longed-for hamlet; full of fear they go on still, dreading they might not find it, their heart borne down with fear they faint and droop. And now Tathâgata, aroused from sleep, addressed Ânanda thus: "Go! tell the Mallas, the time of my decease is come; they, if they see me not, will ever grieve and suffer deep regret." Ânanda listening to the bidding of his master, weeping went along the road. And then he told those Mallas all—"The lord is near to death." The Mallas hearing it, were filled with great, excessive grief. The men and women hurrying forth, bewailing as they went, came to the spot where Buddha was; with garments torn and hair dishevelled, covered with dust and sweat they came. With piteous cries they reached the grove, as when a Deva's day of merit comes to an end, so did they bow weeping and adoring at the feet of Buddha, grieving to behold his failing strength. Tathâgata, composed and quiet, spake: "Grieve not! the time is one for joy; no call for sorrow or for anguish here; that which for ages I have aimed at, now am I just about to obtain; delivered now from the narrow bounds of sense, I go to the place of never-ending rest and peace. I leave these things, earth, water, fire, and air, to rest secure where neither birth nor death can come. Eternally delivered there from grief, oh! tell me! why should I be sorrowful? Of yore on Sirsha's mount, I longed to rid me of this body, but to fulfil my destiny I have remained till now with men in the world; I have kept this sickly, crumbling body, as dwelling with a poisonous snake; but now I am come to the great resting-place, all springs of sorrow now forever stopped. No more shall I receive a body, all future sorrow now forever done away; it is not meet for you, on my account, for evermore, to encourage any anxious fear."
The Mallas hearing Buddha's words, that he was now about to die, their minds confused, their eyes bedimmed, as if they saw before them nought but blackness, with hands conjoined,spake thus to Buddha: "Buddha is leaving now the pain of birth and death, and entering on the eternal joy of rest; doubtless we ought to rejoice thereat. Even as when a house is burnt a man rejoices if his friends are saved from out the flames; the gods! perhaps they rejoice—then how much more should men! But—when Tathâgata has gone and living things no more may see him, eternally cut off from safety and deliverance—in thought of this we grieve and sorrow. Like as a band of merchants crossing with careful steps a desert, with only a single guide, suddenly he dies! Those merchants now without a protector, how can they but lament! The present age, coming to know their true case, has found the omniscient, and looked to him, but yet has not obtained the final conquest; how will the world deride! Even as it would laugh at one who, walking o'er a mountain full of treasure, yet ignorant thereof, hugs still the pain of poverty."
So spake the Mallas, and with tearful words excuse themselves to Buddha, even as an only child pleads piteously before a loving father. Buddha then, with speech most excellent, exhibited and declared the highest principle of truth, and thus addressed the Mallas:—
"In truth, 'tis as you say; seeking the way, you must exert yourselves and strive with diligence—it is not enough to have seen me! Walk, as I have commanded you; get rid of all the tangled net of sorrow; walk in the way with steadfast aim; 'tis not from seeing me this comes—even as a sick man depending on the healing power of medicine, gets rid of all his ailments easily without beholding the physician. He who does not do what I command sees me in vain, this brings no profit; whilst he who lives far off from where I am, and yet walks righteously, is ever near me! A man may dwell beside me, and yet, being disobedient, be far away from me. Keep your heart carefully—give not place to listlessness! earnestly practise every good work. Man born in this world is pressed by all the sorrows of the long career, ceaselessly troubled—without a moment's rest, as any lamp blown by the wind!" The Mallas all, hearing Buddha's loving instruction, inwardly composed, restrained their tears, and, firmly self-possessed, returned.