FOOTNOTES[1]The first particular related at length by the compiler of this work is one of peculiar interest. Buddha summons the Rahans to his presence, through the ever faithful and dutiful Ananda, and addresses to them instructions which form the basis of the duties and obligations of all true disciples. He styles them Bickus—that is to say, mendicants—to remind them of the spirit of poverty and of the contempt of worldly things which must ever be dear to them. The epithet “beloved” is always prefixed to the word Bickus, as conveying an idea of the true and pure affection the master bore to his disciples, or rather his spiritual children. Buddha charges them at first to be always diligent in holding assemblies, where religious subjects should be discussed, controversies settled, and unity of faith secured. This obligation has long been held as a binding one by the primitive Buddhists, as mention is always made in their books of the three great assemblies held during the three first centuries of the Buddhistic era, when the sacred writings were carefully revised, amended, and, as it were, purged of all spurious doctrines. It was during the last council that the canon of scriptures was adopted, which has ever since been maintained by orthodox Buddhists. Nothing can be wiser than the desire he so strongly expresses that no one should ever presume to alter the true and genuine nature of the precepts, by making, according to his whim, light what is heavy, or obligatory what is but a matter of counsel. He expresses the strongest wish to see them always united among themselves, and fervent in the observance of the precepts of the law. He establishes as a fundamental principle the obedience to superiors. There is no society of a religious character among heathens where the various steps of the hierarchy are so well marked and defined as in the Buddhistic institution. The whole body of religious has a general superior in each province, exercising a thorough control over all the houses within the limits of the province; he may be looked upon as a regular diocesan. In each house of the order there is a superior, having power and jurisdiction over all the inmates of the place. Under him we find the professed members of the society, then those who may be called novices, and last of all the postulants and disciples allowed to wear the clerical dress, or yellow garb, without any power or authority, and being looked upon merely as students in the way of probation. In his charge to his disciples, Buddha lays much stress upon the necessity of destroying in themselves the principle of passion, and in particular concupiscence. The general tendency of all his preachings is to teach men the means of freeing themselves from the tyrannical yoke of passions. No one, indeed, can obtain the state of perfect quiescence or Neibban unless he has annihilated in himself all passions, and thereby qualified himself for the practice of all virtues. The character of the great body of religious Buddhists is clearly set forth in the exhortations their great master directs to them to love retreat and solitude. The noise, tumult, and bustle necessarily attending the position of a man living in the world are entirely opposed to the acquirement of self-knowledge, self-possession, and self-control, so much required in a religious. As long, concludes Buddha, as you shall remain faithful to your regulations you will prosper, and secure to yourselves and your order the respect and admiration of all. He winds up his speech by exhorting them to act in a manner ever becoming their sacred calling. The greatest moralist, possessing the most consummate and perfect knowledge of human nature, could not lay down wiser regulations for setting on a firm and lasting foundation a great and mighty institution, destined to spread itself far and wide amidst nations and tribes, and subsist during an unlimited period.[2]A dzeat is a building erected by the piety of Buddhists for the purpose of affording shelter and a place of rest to devotees, travellers, and strangers. These buildings are to be found at the entrance of towns, in villages, and often in the neighbourhood of pagodas. Those of Burmah are erected in the plainest manner. A verandah in front extends to the full length of the building, a spacious hall running parallel to the verandah occupies the remaining place. There is no partition between the hall and the verandah. It happens sometimes that a space at one of the hall’s corners, screened by mats or dry leaves, offers an asylum to him who does not like to mix with thevulgus. The carelessness of Government in all that relates to the comfort of the people is amply compensated by the zeal of pious laymen, who readily undertake the erection of those works of public utility in the hope of securing to themselves the attainment of merits to be enjoyed perhaps in this, but certainly in some future existences.In Burmah proper some of the dzeats are, for the country, beautiful buildings. The edge of the roof and the front part are covered with a profusion of sculptures and carvings that vie with those that adorn the finest monasteries. This fact, among many, indicates the truly beneficent and philanthropic influence exercised by some tenets of Buddhism over the followers of that creed. Pride and vainglory may have their share in the erection of those monuments of benevolence, but it is not the less certain that those who build them yield first and principally to the strong influence of religious feeling.On this occasion Buddha preached to the crowd, when we see a line of distinction well drawn between the assembly of the disciples of Buddha and those we may merely style hearers. The latter are addressed by the name of darakas, meaning laymen that hear the preaching. A daraka is not as yet a perfect convert, and therefore not a member of the assembly of the perfect. The daraka differs from the Upasaka. The latter is not only a mere hearer of the law; he is a firm believer, and fervently practises the precepts: he is among laymen a pious Buddhist; the former is not so forward: he begins to hear and believe the doctrines preached to him. He has already some faith in Buddha; he is under instruction, but he cannot be called a professed disciple. The rewards of faith are both of a natural and supernatural order. Riches, happiness, an honourable reputation, are promised to the faithful observer of the law. He is to be ever free from doubts, since faith makes him adhere firmly to all the instructions of Buddha; and after his death he is to migrate to some of the seats of Nats. The trespassing of the law is to be attended with poverty, shame, and misery, doubts in an unsettled mind, and at last punishment in hell. That place of suffering is minutely described in Buddhistic works. Such a description appears, in the opinion of the writer, of no importance to those who desire to understand not the superficial portion of Buddhism, but its fundamental and constitutive parts. Hell is a place of punishment and torment, as the Nats’ seats are places of reward and happiness. There is no eternity of sufferings; the unfortunate inhabitant of those dark regions is doomed to remain there, until the sum of his offences has been fully atoned for by sufferings. When the evil influence created by sin is exhausted, punishment ceases too, and the wretched sufferer is allowed to migrate to the seat of man in order to acquire merits and prepare himself for happier future existences.In recording the account of the conversion of a courtesan named Apapalika, her liberality and gifts to Buddha and his disciples, and the preference designedly given to her over princes and nobles, who, humanly speaking, seemed in every respect better entitled to attentions, one is almost reminded of the conversion of the woman that was a sinner mentioned in the Gospel.[3]The duties performed by Thariputra on this occasion exhibit more fully than language can express the profound veneration he entertained for Buddha. He was with Maukalan the most distinguished member of the assembly; he occupied the first rank among the disciples; in point of intellectual and spiritual attainments and transcendent qualifications, he stood second to none but to Buddha. Notwithstanding his exalted position, he did not hesitate to render to his superior the lowest services. The high opinion he had of Buddha’s supereminent excellencies prompted him to overlook his own merit, and to admire without reserve that matchless pattern of wisdom and knowledge. Hence the inward satisfaction he sweetly enjoyed in serving as an humble disciple him whose unutterable perfections cast in the shade his far-famed and much-praised acquirements. The unaffected humility of the disciple does the greatest credit to the sterling worth of his inward dispositions, and conveys the highest idea of the respect and veneration entertained for the master’s person.In the houses where Buddhist monks are living it is a fixed rule that the superior and elders of the institution should be attended in the minutest services by the youngest members wearing the canonical dress. The framer of the disciplinary regulations, intending, on the one hand, to confer dignity on the assembly, and, on the other, to oppose a strong barrier to covetousness and to all inordinate worldly affections, wisely laid down a stringent order to all the members of the society never to touch or make use of any article of food, dress, &c., unless it had previously been presented to them by some attendant, layman or clerical. Hence when water is needed for washing the head, hands, and feet, or for rinsing the mouth, when meals are served up, when offerings are made, a young postulant, holding a vessel of water on the board whereupon are placed the dishes, or the articles intended to be offered, respectfully approaches the elder, kneels before him, squatting on his heels, lays before him the object to be presented, bows down with the joined hands raised to the forehead, resumes then the article with his two hands, presents it, with the upper part of the body bent in token of respect. Before accepting it the elder asks, Is it lawful? The answer, It is lawful, having been duly returned, the article is either taken from the hand of the offerer, or he is directed to place it within the reach of the elder. Any infraction of this ceremonial is considered as a sin. In the presence of the people the monks never fail to submit to that somewhat annoying etiquette. Their countenance on such occasions assumes a dignified and grave appearance, that has always much amused the writer whenever he had the opportunity of witnessing this ceremony, which is called Akat. There is no doubt but this custom is a very ancient one. We find it blended to a certain extent with the manners of the nations inhabiting eastern Asia. It is minutely described in the Wini, and carefully observed by the inmates of the Buddhistic monasteries. It agrees remarkably well with the spirit that has originated, promulgated, and sanctioned the disciplinary regulations. He who in this instance would look at the mere skeleton of the rule without any reference to the object aimed at by the legislator would show himself in the light of a very superficial observer. This, unfortunately, is too often the case when we scorn and laugh at customs, the demerit of which consists simply in not being similar to ours, whereas the commonest sense tells us that we ought to judge them in connection with the institutions they have sprung from, and the end aimed at by him who has established them.The narrative of Thariputra’s departure for his birthplace and of his last moments suggests to the mind several reflections. He is certain of the last day of his existence; he foresees with a prophetic glance that his mother is well prepared for hearing profitably the preaching of the most perfect law. By the incomparable powers of his memory he relates to Buddha that 100,000 revolutions of nature ago he was possessed with the strong desire of seeing him and hearing his instructions, &c. How can these particulars be accounted for, according to Buddhistic notions? The spring all evils or demerits flow from is ignorance. A being is imperfect in proportion to his being sunk deeper in the bosom of ignorance. On the contrary, a being perfects himself in proportion to the efforts he makes for dispelling the thick cloud of ignorance that encompasses his mind. The more a man grows in the knowledge of truth the farther he removes the horizon of darkness. He who has made the greatest and most persevering efforts in fervently prosecuting the work of searching truth by studying the law that teaches the way of reaching it, contemplates and enjoys a portion of truth commensurate to his efforts and success. A Buddha, who has reached the last boundaries of knowledge, has therefore triumphed over ignorance and indefinitely enlarged the sphere of truth. He enjoys, in fact, a cloudless sight of all that exists; his science is unlimited, extending over all the countless series of worlds, which, in the opinion of the Buddhists, are supposed to form a system of nature. Thariputra, though much advanced in perfection, had not as yet reached its acme. His knowledge, however, was wonderfully great and extensive; it enabled him to obtain a clear insight into the darkness of the past and a distinct foresight of the future.[4]The village of Nalanda, the site of which is at present occupied by that of Baragaon, was the birthplace of the great disciple Thariputra. His illustrious companion in religion, Maukalan, was born in the village of Kaulita, about one and a half miles south-west of that place. Nalanda, says Fa-Hian, the Chinese traveller, lies one youdzana north of Radzagio, that is to say, seven English miles according to Cunningham’s measurement, and is seven youdzanas or forty-nine miles distant from the tree Bodi. It was the great seat of Buddhistic learning, renowned all over India. Now the whole site is covered with ancient tanks and mounds of ruins on an immense scale, offering fine specimens of sculpture. The great monastery and five smaller ones were all within one enclosure. A row of lofty conical mounds, running north and south, 1600 feet by 400, indicates the place and extent of those religious buildings. Outside of the enclosure there were several temples. General Cunningham fixes the era of the construction of those edifices betweenA.D.425 and 625. Among the several proofs adduced in support of his opinion there is one that appears conclusive. Fa-Hian, who visited all the places famous in the history of Buddhism, and describes them with a minute attention, simply alludes to Nalanda as the birthplace of Thariputra, without saying a word about monasteries or temples, whilst Hwe-Thsang, who visited the same spot in the beginning of the seventh century, describes the splendid temples and monasteries which he saw, and from his statement we infer that the principal edifices were not inferior to those of Buddha Gaya in size and height. Some of them reached to a height of 170 and 200 feet. The greatest was 300 feet high. The number and extent of the tanks is truly surprising. Two of them, in the north-east, were nearly a mile in length, while another in the south was half a mile.The inference to be drawn from the above is, that during the fifth and the sixth century of our era, Buddhism was in a flourishing condition in the country of Magatha or South Behar, since the finest and loftiest structures in the shape of monasteries and temples have been raised within that period, both at Nalanda and Buddha Gaya. It appears that, during the three first centuries of the Christian era, its fortune alternated, and met with varied results, agreeably to the favourable or unfavourable dispositions of the rulers of the country towards the followers of the philosopher of Kapilawot. This succession of successes and reverses reveals the important fact that Buddhism had not struck deep root in the heart of the inhabitants of Central India, since its fate depended from the will and opinions of the monarch, and was almost at the mercy of his caprices. Moreover, in the country north of the Ganges, such as Wethalie, Thawattie, Kapilawot, places which had been favoured with Buddha’s incessant preachings, religion was on its decline at the time of Fa-Hian’s visit, that is to say, in the beginning of the fifth century; monasteries were deserted and emptied, dzedies were crumbling down and fast decaying. In some instances, heretics, that is to say, pounhas, occupied the dwellings formerly tenanted by holders of thegenuinedoctrines. This unexpected sight very much grieved the heart of the good Chinese pilgrim. It must be regretted that we have not the written journals of some other Chinese travellers in the eighth or ninth century to reveal to us the state and condition in which they found the magnificent temples of Nalanda and Buddha Gaya when they visited them.[5]The conduct of Thariputra on this occasion wears an appearance of rudeness towards his aged mother, which at first hurts the feelings of human nature. But a close examination of all the circumstances connected with this last episode of the great disciple’s life, shows that he was far from being divested of filial piety. He leaves his beloved master, undertakes a long and fatiguing journey for the sole purpose of preaching the law to his mother, and conferring upon her a boon of greater value than that he had received from her. In return for all the favours bestowed upon him by his mother, he initiates her in the knowledge of truth, and enables her to enter into the great ways that lead to the deliverance, that is to say, to the state of Neibban. It cannot be denied that his language on this occasion partook of an austere tone, sounding harsh to the ears of worldly men, but it must be borne in mind that Thariputra was an old ascetic, dead to all affections of nature, looking upon truth alone in an abstractively pure form, without any regard to material objects. He loved the law of truth, which he had learned from Buddha, and afterwards preached to others with an unparalleled zeal and fervour. The spirit of Buddha lived in him: he desired to see all beings availing themselves of the means of salvation which he had it in his power to impart unto them; he loved them all with an equal affection; the state of ignorance they were sunk in deeply affected his compassionate soul, and he had but one desire, that of dispelling the thick mist of ignorance by the pure light of truth.When the instruction to his mother was over, Thariputra desired to be left alone with his disciples. His last words to them bespeak the humble sentiments of his mind. Though the first member of the assembly of the perfect, he begs pardon of his inferiors for the causes of offence he may have unwillingly given them during the period they had lived together: regardless of all the good he had done unto them, he feels that he could not well part with them ere he had atoned to them for any wrong, however involuntary, he might have done to some of them.For those uninitiated in Buddhistic metaphysics it is not easy to understand and distinctly to appreciate the situation of Thariputra at his last moments. It is stated that he fell into ecstasy or trance, though his soul remained as yet connected with this world by slender and almost invisible ties. This was the last and mighty struggle of a being to disengage himself from the trammels of existence and become free from all exterior influence. Soaring above all that exists, Thariputra’s soul passed successively through the four stages he had so often visited, whilst engaged in the arduous effort of investigating truth, preparing to enter the fifth and last one, where he was to stay finally and perpetually, without any further change, in a state of quiescence. When the sage, during his meditations, has brought his mind to bear upon some object, he wishes to contemplate attentively and thoroughly to comprehend, he at first gets hold of that object by his thought, he then examines it by means of reflection: the knowledge he thus acquires never fails to create a pleasurable sensation; this pleasure or satisfaction conveys to the soul enjoyment and happiness; he loves the truth he has discovered, and he rests fixedly in it. This is the last stage he ever can or wish to reach. What has human mind, indeed, to do, after having found truth, but to cling to it, and remain ever attached to it? During the last trance, Thariputra, with his almost immensely developed mental faculties, knew comprehensively truth, reflected on it, felt a pleasure in considering it, enjoyed it, or rather fed upon it, and at last adhered so perfectly to it, that he became, as it were, merged into it. He then had reached the state of Neibban, where he was for ever exempt from the influences created and put in motion and activity by matter and passions in every state of existence. Buddhists, in Burmah, at least, owing to their very limited and imperfect education, are unable to give any satisfactory or even intelligible account of the state of Neibban or perfection. What is here but superficially stated, has been found in one of the last Buddhistic compositions on this and other metaphysical subjects. Fuller particulars shall, hereafter, be given as to the state of Neibban, when the death of one greater than Thariputra shall be related.[6]In Burmah, when a person has just given up the ghost, the inmates of the house send for musicians, who soon make their appearance with their respective instruments. They forthwith set to work, and keep up an incessant noise during the twenty-four hours that elapse before the corpse is removed to the place where it is to be burnt. Relatives, friends, and elders resort to the deceased’s house for the ostensible purpose of condoling with those who have lost their kinsman, but in reality for sharing in the mirth and amusements that go on in such occasions. Strange to say, the thought of death strikes no one’s mind; the fate of the deceased is scarcely pitied, nay, remembered. Were it not for the presence of the corpse, and the perhaps conventional cries and lamentations of some old women at certain intervals, no one could imagine, still less find out, the real motive that has induced such a crowd to assemble on that spot.If the departed belong to a respectable family in tolerably good circumstances, the funeral ceremony is arranged in the following manner: Presents, intended as offerings for the Buddhist monks, having been made ready, they are invited for the occasion, and their presence is expected in numbers proportionate to the amount of offerings. The procession starts from the deceased’s house, and directs its course towards the place of burning or the cemetery. It is headed by the yellow-dressed monks, carrying their broad, palm-leaf fans on the shoulder, and attended by their disciples. Next follow the bearers of the offerings in two lines. They are partly men and partly women, but walk separately and apart from each other. The coffin appears next, laid on thick poles, and carried by six or eight men. In front of the coffin, and sometimes at the sides, are arranged the musicians, who perform all the way without an instant’s interruption. Behind the coffin are grouped the male relatives, friends, &c., and lastly the procession is closed by crowds of women, attired in their finest dress. The coffin is beautifully decorated, and carried on the shoulders of six or eight stout young men by means of bamboos or poles. An unnatural merriment is allowed, and generally kept up all the way to the cemetery, and fantastic gestures and dances are performed by the bearers and their friends to the imminent danger of upsetting the coffin. The burning place is generally without the precincts of the town, and in the vicinity of some large pagodas. The funeral pile is of a very simple structure; its shape is that of an oblong square of a moderate size. Two large pieces of wood are at first laid parallel, at a distance of eight feet; other logs of wood, disposed at about six or eight inches from each other, are laid across the two first mentioned, so that their extremities are supported on these two pieces. A second set of logs is laid at right angles with the first; a third one placed across the second, and so on, until the pile is three, four, or five feet high. The coffin is deposited upon it. Fire is set below the pile by means of inflammable materials which soon communicate fire to the logs the pile is made of. The whole is soon in a blaze and rapidly consumed by the devouring flames. The bystanders talk, laugh, or busy themselves in stirring the fire. As to the Talapoins, they sometimes take position under a neighbouring shed, repeat a few passages of Buddha’s law, and when they are tired they give orders to their disciples to take up the offerings and then go back to their peaceable abodes. Very often they do not take the trouble of muttering prayers; they depart forthwith, followed by the offerings intended for them.The fire being extinguished, the ashes, charcoal, &c., are carefully searched, and the particles of bones discovered are piously collected by the nearest relatives, and then buried in a hole dug for that purpose near some pagoda.Persons in good circumstances keep up for seven days in their houses a sort of solemnisation of the funeral. Every day, in the evening particularly, musicians are kept up playing until a very late hour at night. The house is all the while crowded with people, who come for the purpose of enjoyment. Some play at various games; others drink tea; all chew betel-leaves’ tobacco in profusion. Sometimes stories relating to Gaudama’s former existences are read and listened to by the elders of the party. This mode, intended either to do honour to the deceased’s memory or to afford relief to the grief of relatives, is rather expensive, and might often prove a heavy drain on the limited means of most of the families. But the spirit of mutual assistance on this occasion removes the difficulty. Every visitor, according to his means, makes a present of some money to the master of the house. Though the present of the greatest numbers of visitors is comparatively small, yet, when added together, there is a considerable sum, which is generally more than sufficient to defray all expense that may be incurred. This custom or system of voluntary contributions burdens no one in particular, whilst it enables a family to make a show of liberality which, otherwise, would almost prove ruinous in many instances. The custom of burning the dead prevails amongst the Hindus, the Cingalese, Nepaulese, Burmese, Siamese and Cambodians. Though holding the tenets of Buddhism, the Chinese have never adopted this usage. The Mahomedans, living in Hindustan and the countries of eastern Asia, retain the custom of burying the dead. Buddhists have doubtless received that practice from the Hindus.[7]The custom of making funeral orations for the purpose of eulogising distinguished individuals after their demise is of the highest antiquity. The sacred records bear witness to its existence amongst the Jews. The present legend offers repeated instances ofeulogiamade to honour the memory of the dead. On this occasion Buddha would not leave to another the honour of extolling the extraordinary merits and transcendent excellencies of the illustrious Thariputra. But he had a higher object in view when he exhibited to the eyes of the assembled Rahans the relics of the deceased, which were all that remained of so celebrated a disciple, who had lived with them for so many years, and had just parted from them. It was impossible to give them a more forcible illustration of the truth he had so often announced to them, that there is nothing permanently subsisting in this world, but that all things are liable to a perpetual and never-ending change. The stern Buddha gently rebuked the amiable Ananda for the signs of inordinate grief he gave on this occasion; because, said he, the law of mutability acting upon all that surrounds us, we must ever be prepared to be separated from what is dearest to our affections; grief on such occasions is useless, and quite inconsistent with the principles of a wise man.To honour the memory of Thariputra, and perpetuate the remembrance of his virtues, Buddha directed that a dzedi should be erected on the very spot where he had heard the news of his death. A dzedi is a religious monument very common in Burmah, and to be seen on all rising grounds in the neighbourhood of towns. Within the enclosure of all monasteries, a dzedi is invariably erected; it is the only purely religious building to be found in Burmah. The traveller in that country is always delighted, and experiences the most pleasurable sensations on approaching some town or village, when he sees several dzedis of various heights raising their white cones capped with the gilt crown from the bosom of beautiful groves of tall cocoa-nut trees, graceful areca palms, and massive tamarind, mango, and jack trees, all loaded with a green and luxuriant foliage. When the monument is on a grand scale, niches are made in the middle of each side of the square, facing the four points of the compass. In those niches are placed statues of Buddha, exhibiting him in the usual cross-legged position. The size of those religious monuments varies much in dimensions. They range from the height of a few feet to the colossal proportions of the tall Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon.The custom of raising monuments over the ashes of religious distinguished by their virtues and extraordinary attainments, is a very ancient one, coeval in all probability with the first ages of Buddhism. They were real tumuli, surmounted with some ornaments in the shape of a cone. Such ornaments are seen towering over nearly all the religious monuments in Burmah. Royalty, in its head paraphernalia, and in its abode, has appropriated them to its own uses. We may at once infer that they are of a Hindu origin. The great monarchs who are called Tsekiawade kings, because they ruled over the whole of the Dzampoudipa island, were, according to Buddha’s opinion, entitled to the honour of a dzedi after their demise.[8]It is very difficult to understand the extraordinary state in which Buddha placed himself on this occasion. It must have been a remarkable occurrence, since it caused a violent commotion which shook our planet. The only interpretation that can be put on the terms used to describe this particular action of Buddha is this: He renounced existence, that is to say, not only the actual existence that he enjoyed, but also all other forms of existence. He severed connection with this and other worlds; he broke the ties that had hitherto retained him linked to a form of existence. He had come now to the end of all transmigrations. By the power of his will, he placed himself in the state of complete isolation from all that exists, even from self, that is to say, into Neibban, a state which death was soon to realise and render visible to the eyes of his disciples. It is not death that causes a being to reach the state or condition of Neibban, but it is the abstraction from all conceivable forms of existence that constitutes its very essence. The expression made use of by our author to designate the particular condition in which Gaudama brought himself, and which caused a terrific shake of the earth, is this: He parted with the life of change, of mutability, that is to say, he had nothing more to do with existences, which, in the opinion of Buddhists, are produced by the principle of mutability. Buddha called himself Zina, or conqueror, after he had obtained the perfect mastery over his passions. We may give him the same title on the occasion when he has obtained the mastery over existence itself. This last achievement is the greatest of all: the first one was only preparatory to securing the second one. The writer is well aware that such a language is at variance with the notions that the reader is familiar with. To understand its true and correct meaning one must be initiated into the doctrines of Buddhism.The preaching of the law of the wheel, which is mentioned as one cause that produces the phenomena of earthquake, took place, as above related, in the Migadawon forest, or the Deer’s grove, near Benares, in the very beginning of Buddha’s public life, after he had left the Bodi tree. The preaching of the law of the wheel is nothing else than the manifestation of the four sublime and transcendent truths, which, as mentioned in foregoing pages, constitute the essence of Buddha’s doctrines.[9]The particulars of the apparition of the evil one, or the tempter, related by Buddha himself to the faithful and amiable Ananda, show the incessant efforts made by Manh to render abortive, to a certain extent, the benevolent mission undertaken by Buddha to procure deliverance to numberless beings, and supply others with adequate means for entering into, and steadily following, the way that leads to it. He had been defeated in his endeavours to prevent Phra from leaving the world and obtaining the Buddhaship. He had been thwarted in his wicked designs to weaken the effects of Buddha’s preachings. Heretics of all sorts had been summoned to his standard, to carry on a most active warfare against his opponents, but he had failed in all his attempts. Buddha had now almost completed the great and beneficial work he had undertaken: his religious institutions, known over a vast extent of territory, and zealously propagated by fervent and devoted disciples, seemed to be now firmly established. The edifice, indeed, was raised, but it required the action of a finishing hand; the key-stone was yet wanting in the vault to render it complete and durable. Manh was aware of all that; hence his last and wily effort for impeding the finishing and perfecting of a work he had vainly opposed in its beginning and during its progress.The line of distinction between the members of the assembly and the mass of those who merely believed in the doctrines of Buddha, without leaving the world, is plainly drawn by Buddha himself; therefore, there can be no doubt that, from the origin of Buddhism, there existed a marked difference between the body of laymen and that of Rahans. Again, the body of the perfect, or those who formed what may emphatically be termed the assembly, was composed of men and women, living, as a matter of course, separately, in a state of continence, and subjected to the disciplinary regulations which we find embodied in the Wini. In Burmah, vestiges of female devotees, living secluded from the world, are to be met with in many places, but, as already noticed in a foregoing remark, the order of religious females has much fallen off. Its professed members are few in number, and the exterior observance of the regulations is much neglected. The comprehensiveness of Buddhism, its tendency to bring all men to the same level, and allow of no difference between man and man but that which is established by superiority in virtue, its expansive properties, all those striking characteristics have mightily worked in elevating the character of the woman, and raising it to a level with that of man. Who could think of looking upon the woman as a somewhat inferior being, when we see her ranking, according to the degrees of her spiritual attainments, among the perfect and foremost followers of Buddha? Hence in those countries where Buddhism has struck a deep root and exercised a great influence over the manners of nations, the condition of the woman has been much improved and placed on a footing far superior to what she occupies in those countries where that religious system is not the prevalent one, or where it has not formed or considerably influenced the customs and habits of the people.[10]The Buddhists of these parts, following the track of their ancestors, or rather copying their writings, are fond of arbitrary divisions in all that concerns the different parts of their metaphysics. Buddha, on this occasion, alludes to thirty-seven articles, which may be considered as the foundation whereon rests philosophical and moral wisdom. They are calledBodi-pek-kera; meaning, I believe, points or articles of wisdom. They are subdivided into seven classes. In the first are enumerated the four subjects most deserving of attention, viz., the body, the heart, the sensations, and the law. In the second are described four objects extremely worthy of our efforts, viz., preventing the law of demerits to come into existence; preventing its developments, when it exists; causing the law of merits to come into existence, and furthering its progress when it is already existing. In the third are found likewise four points meriting control, viz., one’s will, one’s heart, one’s efforts, and one’s exertions. In the fourth class we find enumerated five pre-eminently necessary dispositions or inclinations; that is to say, disposition to benevolence, to diligence, to attention, to steady direction towards what is excellent, and to considerate wisdom.The fifth class comprises thepola, or rewards or good effects resulting from the above inclination, viz., perfect benevolence, diligence, attention, steadiness in what is excellent, and considerate wisdom.The sixth class comprehends the seven following virtues, which enable man to raise himself very high in the scale of perfection:—Attention, consideration of the law, diligence, equanimity of the soul, constancy in good, fixity, and delight.The seventh class comprises the ways that lead to good and perfection. They are eight in number:—Perfect doctrine, intention, language, actions, regular mode of life, diligence, attention, and fixity in good.A volume might be written upon these thirty-seven principles or points of moral philosophy, by way of comment and explanation; but we think it better to leave the reader to make his own reflections, and run at liberty over this broad field of metaphysics.[11]The Kakouda stream was one of the arms or channels of the little Gundak. It is at present dried up, but up to this day are to be seen several marks indicating the ancient bed of that stream.The river Hiranyawati is one of the channels of the little Gundak, which was flowing a little west of the city of Koutheinaron. The Gundak being very winding in its course, and the mass of water being sometimes very considerable, there is to be seen a great number of old channels, now dried up, or occasionally filled in the time when inundation is prevailing. For this reason, it becomes difficult in some instances to follow the Chinese pilgrim, Hwen Thsang, through his minute and accurate description of the places he has visited. The mounds of ruins which stud the ground may not be always correctly identified, because they are not at present, relatively to the river, in the same position as that mentioned in his interesting itinerary. However, there are here and there some remnants of the old channels which are sufficient to guide safely the sure and patient Government Archæological Surveyor, who now does so much, with the assistance derived from the books of the two Chinese pilgrims, to find out and identify on the spot most of the places and localities mentioned in the Buddhist writings. It is not a little surprising that we should have to acknowledge the fact that the voyages of two Chinese travellers, undertaken in the fifth and seventh centuries of our era, have done more to elucidate the history and geography of Buddhism in India, than all that has hitherto been found in the Sanscrit and Pali books of India and the neighbouring countries.The young religious who is called Tsanda was the younger brother of Thariputra. He seems to have shared with Ananda the honour of attending on Buddha’s person.The forest which was close to the vicinity of Koutheinaron was planted with trees which the Burmans call ingien, the Bengalies, sal. The latter name is evidently the Sanscrit and Pali appellation of the tree, which the Burmese author has retained but once or twice throughout the course of his work, and wrote Sala. It is theShorea robusta.The four laws of edeipat, which, in the opinion of Buddha, can confer to him who knows and possesses them the extraordinary privilege of an indefinitely prolonged existence, are, absolute power over the will, absolute power over the mind, absolute power of exertion, absolute power over the means to attain any object. How can a man, in the present state of existence, obtain the possession of such a power? The only way that a Buddhist has to account for it is the following:—A perfect being, having estranged himself from all passions, from matter and its concomitant influences, solely by the power and energy of his will, acquires a freedom from all impediments, an unbounded liberty of motion, and a lightness and swiftness which enable him to do all that he pleases. He is independent of the elements of this world, which can no more offer obstacles and resistance to his wishes. Several instances of something approaching to those wonderful attainments have been mentioned in the course of this work. We have seen how those much advanced in perfection could raise themselves very high, and travel through the air with an almost incredible velocity. This was but the beginning of far superior and transcendent qualifications obtained only by those that had made greater progress in science, in virtue, and in the renouncing of all things; in a word, by those who had mastered the four laws of edeipat.Mahawon Kootagara means the hall of the upper story in the great forest. Not far from Wethalie there was a monastery of great celebrity, situated in a forest of sala-trees. It had, at least, an upper story, in which was the hall where Gaudama often preached to his disciples and to the people.[12]The meal Buddha partook of in company with his disciples at Tsonda’s residence is the last repast he ever made. The violent distemper which followed immediately is not, says the author of the legend, to be attributed to the food he took on this occasion. On the contrary, that very food, owing to the virtue infused therein by the agency of Nats and Brahmas, was rather an antidote against the illness that was to come inevitably upon Phra’s person. Previous to the dissolution of his bodily frame, it was decreed that Buddha should suffer. No occurrence could ever cause or avert this tragical circumstance. He had foreseen it, and with perfect resignation submitted to what was absolutely to happen. In the early days of Buddhism, when a deadly antagonism with Brahminism began to fill the peninsula of Hindustan with endless disputes between the supporters of the rival systems, Brahmins, with a cutting sneer, insulted their opponents by reminding them that the founder of their creed, whom they so much revered and exalted, had died from the effects of his having indulged too much in pork. About twenty-two years ago, when the writer was in Burmah, he chanced to meet with a shrewd old Christian, who, by the way, was fonder of disputing about religion than paying regard to the practice thereof. He boasted of having at his command deadly weapons against Buddhists, and unanswerable arguments to bear with an irresistible force on the vital parts of their creed. The chief one, which he always brought forward with a Brahminical scorn and laugh, was that Gaudama had died from his having eaten pork. He always did it with so much mirth and wit that his poor ignorant adversaries were completely overawed and effectually silenced by his bold and positive assertion, and left to him uncontested the field of battle, and allowed him to carry away undisputed the palm of victory. This way of arguing may prove a very amusing one, but it can never be approved of, as error is never to be combated by another error or a false supposition. The Burmese translator was doubtless aware of the weak side offered to the attacks of malignant opponents by the unpleasant distemper that followed the last meal of Buddha. He strenuously labours to defend the character of his hero by proving, in the best way he can, that such a bodily disorder was necessarily to take place, in order to set in relief the patience, composure, and other sterling virtues of the founder of Buddhism. The text of the legend has been read over several times with the greatest attention, for the purpose of ascertaining the reasons put forward to account for such an occurrence, but the result has proved unsatisfactory. A thick veil wraps in complete obscurity this curious episode of Buddha’s life. All that can be said is this: it was preordained that Buddha should be visited with a most painful distemper ere he attained Neibban; and so it happened.To prove that the eating of pork had nothing to do with the distemper that followed, we have the authority of Gaudama himself, who commended the delicacy and flavour of that dish, and placed it on the same footing with the delicious Nogana he ate on the morning of the day previous to his obtaining the Buddhaship. He desired his ever-faithful attendant, Ananda, to repair to Tsonda’s place, and explain to him the great rewards reserved to him for having made the offering of such an excellent food.The practical working of the Buddhistic system relatively to almsgiving deserves some notice. A man bestows alms on the Rahans, or spends money towards promoting some religious purpose; he does so with the belief that what he bestows now in the way of alms will secure to him countless advantages in future existences. Those favours, which he anticipates to enjoy hereafter, are all of a temporal nature, relating only to health, pleasures, riches, honours, and a long life either in the seat of man or in the seats of Nats. Such is the opinion generally entertained by all Buddhists in our days. Talapoins make the preaching of the law consist chiefly in enumerating the merits and rewards attending the bestowing of alms on persons devoted to a religious mode of life. In this respect the practical result of their sermons is certainly most beneficial to themselves. The spiritually-minded Buddha seems to have levelled a blow at concupiscence and covetousness by openly stating that alms have not the power to stem the current of demerits, to give rise and energy to the principle of merits, or to lead to wisdom, which enables man to weaken gradually concupiscence, anger, and ignorance, and to open and prepare the path to Neibban. True knowledge, attended by the practice of the virtues peculiar to those who have entered into the current of perfection by following the four Meggas, can alone enable a man to reach Neibban. Many excellent practices enforced by Buddhism have, so to speak, been reduced to a mere lifeless skeleton by ignorance and passions, but they would appear in a very different light were they animated with the spirit that has brought them into existence.[13]The observance of the five precepts incumbent upon all Buddhists is the foundation whereupon is to be erected the spiritual edifice; it is the first step towards the great ways leading to perfection; it is preparatory for the great exercise of meditation, by which true wisdom may be acquired. The faithful who observe the five precepts and the three additional counsels show that faith is living in their hearts, and give unmistakable marks of their zeal in the practice of religion. They are real Upasakas, or laymen, fervently adhering to and taking refuge in Buddha, the law, and the assembly; but they cannot take rank among the members of the assembly or Thanga. Practice of and progress in meditation can alone usher an Upasaka into the sanctuary of the perfect.The rewards destined to the faithful after their death are exactly proportionate to their merits and the real worth of their deeds. The seats of Nats, placed immediately above the seat of men, but under the sixteen seats reserved to the perfect, are opened to the pious Upasaka who migrates from the seat of probation and trial. The nature of the pleasures enjoyed in the Nats’ seats are all referable to the senses. All that can be imagined best fitted for the delectation of the five senses is accumulated in those blissful regions, and proffered with an ever-renewed profusion to their fortunate inhabitants. The vivid imagination of Asiatics has, one would say, exhausted its stores in picturing with an amazing variety the riches to be possessed there. It would be of no utility to attempt to give a compendious narrative of what we meet with in Buddhistic compositions respecting those regions. Suffice it for our purpose to say that the distinction of sexes remains in the Nats’ countries. In the two lowest seats connection takes place between the sexes, but no procreation ever results from it; in the third seats the Nats of different sexes are fully gratified by a simple kiss; in the fourth, by the touch of the hand; in the fifth, by merely looking at each other; and in the sixth, by the mere fact of their being in the same place, upon which we may make two observations. The first is that pleasures therein enjoyed lose their coarseness, and become more refined and more perfect in proportion as the seats are more elevated. The greater are the merits of the Upasaka in this life, the higher is the seat he is destined to occupy, and the more refined are the pleasures and enjoyments allotted to him. Hence our Gaudama having, during the existence preceding this last one, practised moral virtues of the highest order, migrated to Toocita, the fourth seat of Nats. The second observation is, that the duration of the enjoyments in the Nats’ seats increases in an arithmetical progression; that is to say, the pleasures of the second seat last twice as long as those of the first or lowest seat. Those of the third seat last twice as long as those of the second, and so on to the last or highest seat.In the sermons that the Talapoins address to the people for stirring up their zeal chiefly in making alms to them, they are most fluent and abundant in the promises of rewards in the Nats’ seats, as a powerful inducement held out to them for keeping up their zeal in bestowing alms. They admirably succeed in obtaining their object with most of their hearers. It cannot be denied that those poor deluded followers of Buddha are fully convinced of all that is narrated to them by Talapoins respecting the Nats’ seats. Such is the implicit faith of the mass of the Buddhists. One may occasionally meet with a few individuals who laugh at those fables, but these are looked upon in no better light than that of rationalists or freethinkers by the orthodox portion of the community.
[1]The first particular related at length by the compiler of this work is one of peculiar interest. Buddha summons the Rahans to his presence, through the ever faithful and dutiful Ananda, and addresses to them instructions which form the basis of the duties and obligations of all true disciples. He styles them Bickus—that is to say, mendicants—to remind them of the spirit of poverty and of the contempt of worldly things which must ever be dear to them. The epithet “beloved” is always prefixed to the word Bickus, as conveying an idea of the true and pure affection the master bore to his disciples, or rather his spiritual children. Buddha charges them at first to be always diligent in holding assemblies, where religious subjects should be discussed, controversies settled, and unity of faith secured. This obligation has long been held as a binding one by the primitive Buddhists, as mention is always made in their books of the three great assemblies held during the three first centuries of the Buddhistic era, when the sacred writings were carefully revised, amended, and, as it were, purged of all spurious doctrines. It was during the last council that the canon of scriptures was adopted, which has ever since been maintained by orthodox Buddhists. Nothing can be wiser than the desire he so strongly expresses that no one should ever presume to alter the true and genuine nature of the precepts, by making, according to his whim, light what is heavy, or obligatory what is but a matter of counsel. He expresses the strongest wish to see them always united among themselves, and fervent in the observance of the precepts of the law. He establishes as a fundamental principle the obedience to superiors. There is no society of a religious character among heathens where the various steps of the hierarchy are so well marked and defined as in the Buddhistic institution. The whole body of religious has a general superior in each province, exercising a thorough control over all the houses within the limits of the province; he may be looked upon as a regular diocesan. In each house of the order there is a superior, having power and jurisdiction over all the inmates of the place. Under him we find the professed members of the society, then those who may be called novices, and last of all the postulants and disciples allowed to wear the clerical dress, or yellow garb, without any power or authority, and being looked upon merely as students in the way of probation. In his charge to his disciples, Buddha lays much stress upon the necessity of destroying in themselves the principle of passion, and in particular concupiscence. The general tendency of all his preachings is to teach men the means of freeing themselves from the tyrannical yoke of passions. No one, indeed, can obtain the state of perfect quiescence or Neibban unless he has annihilated in himself all passions, and thereby qualified himself for the practice of all virtues. The character of the great body of religious Buddhists is clearly set forth in the exhortations their great master directs to them to love retreat and solitude. The noise, tumult, and bustle necessarily attending the position of a man living in the world are entirely opposed to the acquirement of self-knowledge, self-possession, and self-control, so much required in a religious. As long, concludes Buddha, as you shall remain faithful to your regulations you will prosper, and secure to yourselves and your order the respect and admiration of all. He winds up his speech by exhorting them to act in a manner ever becoming their sacred calling. The greatest moralist, possessing the most consummate and perfect knowledge of human nature, could not lay down wiser regulations for setting on a firm and lasting foundation a great and mighty institution, destined to spread itself far and wide amidst nations and tribes, and subsist during an unlimited period.
[1]The first particular related at length by the compiler of this work is one of peculiar interest. Buddha summons the Rahans to his presence, through the ever faithful and dutiful Ananda, and addresses to them instructions which form the basis of the duties and obligations of all true disciples. He styles them Bickus—that is to say, mendicants—to remind them of the spirit of poverty and of the contempt of worldly things which must ever be dear to them. The epithet “beloved” is always prefixed to the word Bickus, as conveying an idea of the true and pure affection the master bore to his disciples, or rather his spiritual children. Buddha charges them at first to be always diligent in holding assemblies, where religious subjects should be discussed, controversies settled, and unity of faith secured. This obligation has long been held as a binding one by the primitive Buddhists, as mention is always made in their books of the three great assemblies held during the three first centuries of the Buddhistic era, when the sacred writings were carefully revised, amended, and, as it were, purged of all spurious doctrines. It was during the last council that the canon of scriptures was adopted, which has ever since been maintained by orthodox Buddhists. Nothing can be wiser than the desire he so strongly expresses that no one should ever presume to alter the true and genuine nature of the precepts, by making, according to his whim, light what is heavy, or obligatory what is but a matter of counsel. He expresses the strongest wish to see them always united among themselves, and fervent in the observance of the precepts of the law. He establishes as a fundamental principle the obedience to superiors. There is no society of a religious character among heathens where the various steps of the hierarchy are so well marked and defined as in the Buddhistic institution. The whole body of religious has a general superior in each province, exercising a thorough control over all the houses within the limits of the province; he may be looked upon as a regular diocesan. In each house of the order there is a superior, having power and jurisdiction over all the inmates of the place. Under him we find the professed members of the society, then those who may be called novices, and last of all the postulants and disciples allowed to wear the clerical dress, or yellow garb, without any power or authority, and being looked upon merely as students in the way of probation. In his charge to his disciples, Buddha lays much stress upon the necessity of destroying in themselves the principle of passion, and in particular concupiscence. The general tendency of all his preachings is to teach men the means of freeing themselves from the tyrannical yoke of passions. No one, indeed, can obtain the state of perfect quiescence or Neibban unless he has annihilated in himself all passions, and thereby qualified himself for the practice of all virtues. The character of the great body of religious Buddhists is clearly set forth in the exhortations their great master directs to them to love retreat and solitude. The noise, tumult, and bustle necessarily attending the position of a man living in the world are entirely opposed to the acquirement of self-knowledge, self-possession, and self-control, so much required in a religious. As long, concludes Buddha, as you shall remain faithful to your regulations you will prosper, and secure to yourselves and your order the respect and admiration of all. He winds up his speech by exhorting them to act in a manner ever becoming their sacred calling. The greatest moralist, possessing the most consummate and perfect knowledge of human nature, could not lay down wiser regulations for setting on a firm and lasting foundation a great and mighty institution, destined to spread itself far and wide amidst nations and tribes, and subsist during an unlimited period.
[2]A dzeat is a building erected by the piety of Buddhists for the purpose of affording shelter and a place of rest to devotees, travellers, and strangers. These buildings are to be found at the entrance of towns, in villages, and often in the neighbourhood of pagodas. Those of Burmah are erected in the plainest manner. A verandah in front extends to the full length of the building, a spacious hall running parallel to the verandah occupies the remaining place. There is no partition between the hall and the verandah. It happens sometimes that a space at one of the hall’s corners, screened by mats or dry leaves, offers an asylum to him who does not like to mix with thevulgus. The carelessness of Government in all that relates to the comfort of the people is amply compensated by the zeal of pious laymen, who readily undertake the erection of those works of public utility in the hope of securing to themselves the attainment of merits to be enjoyed perhaps in this, but certainly in some future existences.In Burmah proper some of the dzeats are, for the country, beautiful buildings. The edge of the roof and the front part are covered with a profusion of sculptures and carvings that vie with those that adorn the finest monasteries. This fact, among many, indicates the truly beneficent and philanthropic influence exercised by some tenets of Buddhism over the followers of that creed. Pride and vainglory may have their share in the erection of those monuments of benevolence, but it is not the less certain that those who build them yield first and principally to the strong influence of religious feeling.On this occasion Buddha preached to the crowd, when we see a line of distinction well drawn between the assembly of the disciples of Buddha and those we may merely style hearers. The latter are addressed by the name of darakas, meaning laymen that hear the preaching. A daraka is not as yet a perfect convert, and therefore not a member of the assembly of the perfect. The daraka differs from the Upasaka. The latter is not only a mere hearer of the law; he is a firm believer, and fervently practises the precepts: he is among laymen a pious Buddhist; the former is not so forward: he begins to hear and believe the doctrines preached to him. He has already some faith in Buddha; he is under instruction, but he cannot be called a professed disciple. The rewards of faith are both of a natural and supernatural order. Riches, happiness, an honourable reputation, are promised to the faithful observer of the law. He is to be ever free from doubts, since faith makes him adhere firmly to all the instructions of Buddha; and after his death he is to migrate to some of the seats of Nats. The trespassing of the law is to be attended with poverty, shame, and misery, doubts in an unsettled mind, and at last punishment in hell. That place of suffering is minutely described in Buddhistic works. Such a description appears, in the opinion of the writer, of no importance to those who desire to understand not the superficial portion of Buddhism, but its fundamental and constitutive parts. Hell is a place of punishment and torment, as the Nats’ seats are places of reward and happiness. There is no eternity of sufferings; the unfortunate inhabitant of those dark regions is doomed to remain there, until the sum of his offences has been fully atoned for by sufferings. When the evil influence created by sin is exhausted, punishment ceases too, and the wretched sufferer is allowed to migrate to the seat of man in order to acquire merits and prepare himself for happier future existences.In recording the account of the conversion of a courtesan named Apapalika, her liberality and gifts to Buddha and his disciples, and the preference designedly given to her over princes and nobles, who, humanly speaking, seemed in every respect better entitled to attentions, one is almost reminded of the conversion of the woman that was a sinner mentioned in the Gospel.
[2]A dzeat is a building erected by the piety of Buddhists for the purpose of affording shelter and a place of rest to devotees, travellers, and strangers. These buildings are to be found at the entrance of towns, in villages, and often in the neighbourhood of pagodas. Those of Burmah are erected in the plainest manner. A verandah in front extends to the full length of the building, a spacious hall running parallel to the verandah occupies the remaining place. There is no partition between the hall and the verandah. It happens sometimes that a space at one of the hall’s corners, screened by mats or dry leaves, offers an asylum to him who does not like to mix with thevulgus. The carelessness of Government in all that relates to the comfort of the people is amply compensated by the zeal of pious laymen, who readily undertake the erection of those works of public utility in the hope of securing to themselves the attainment of merits to be enjoyed perhaps in this, but certainly in some future existences.
In Burmah proper some of the dzeats are, for the country, beautiful buildings. The edge of the roof and the front part are covered with a profusion of sculptures and carvings that vie with those that adorn the finest monasteries. This fact, among many, indicates the truly beneficent and philanthropic influence exercised by some tenets of Buddhism over the followers of that creed. Pride and vainglory may have their share in the erection of those monuments of benevolence, but it is not the less certain that those who build them yield first and principally to the strong influence of religious feeling.
On this occasion Buddha preached to the crowd, when we see a line of distinction well drawn between the assembly of the disciples of Buddha and those we may merely style hearers. The latter are addressed by the name of darakas, meaning laymen that hear the preaching. A daraka is not as yet a perfect convert, and therefore not a member of the assembly of the perfect. The daraka differs from the Upasaka. The latter is not only a mere hearer of the law; he is a firm believer, and fervently practises the precepts: he is among laymen a pious Buddhist; the former is not so forward: he begins to hear and believe the doctrines preached to him. He has already some faith in Buddha; he is under instruction, but he cannot be called a professed disciple. The rewards of faith are both of a natural and supernatural order. Riches, happiness, an honourable reputation, are promised to the faithful observer of the law. He is to be ever free from doubts, since faith makes him adhere firmly to all the instructions of Buddha; and after his death he is to migrate to some of the seats of Nats. The trespassing of the law is to be attended with poverty, shame, and misery, doubts in an unsettled mind, and at last punishment in hell. That place of suffering is minutely described in Buddhistic works. Such a description appears, in the opinion of the writer, of no importance to those who desire to understand not the superficial portion of Buddhism, but its fundamental and constitutive parts. Hell is a place of punishment and torment, as the Nats’ seats are places of reward and happiness. There is no eternity of sufferings; the unfortunate inhabitant of those dark regions is doomed to remain there, until the sum of his offences has been fully atoned for by sufferings. When the evil influence created by sin is exhausted, punishment ceases too, and the wretched sufferer is allowed to migrate to the seat of man in order to acquire merits and prepare himself for happier future existences.
In recording the account of the conversion of a courtesan named Apapalika, her liberality and gifts to Buddha and his disciples, and the preference designedly given to her over princes and nobles, who, humanly speaking, seemed in every respect better entitled to attentions, one is almost reminded of the conversion of the woman that was a sinner mentioned in the Gospel.
[3]The duties performed by Thariputra on this occasion exhibit more fully than language can express the profound veneration he entertained for Buddha. He was with Maukalan the most distinguished member of the assembly; he occupied the first rank among the disciples; in point of intellectual and spiritual attainments and transcendent qualifications, he stood second to none but to Buddha. Notwithstanding his exalted position, he did not hesitate to render to his superior the lowest services. The high opinion he had of Buddha’s supereminent excellencies prompted him to overlook his own merit, and to admire without reserve that matchless pattern of wisdom and knowledge. Hence the inward satisfaction he sweetly enjoyed in serving as an humble disciple him whose unutterable perfections cast in the shade his far-famed and much-praised acquirements. The unaffected humility of the disciple does the greatest credit to the sterling worth of his inward dispositions, and conveys the highest idea of the respect and veneration entertained for the master’s person.In the houses where Buddhist monks are living it is a fixed rule that the superior and elders of the institution should be attended in the minutest services by the youngest members wearing the canonical dress. The framer of the disciplinary regulations, intending, on the one hand, to confer dignity on the assembly, and, on the other, to oppose a strong barrier to covetousness and to all inordinate worldly affections, wisely laid down a stringent order to all the members of the society never to touch or make use of any article of food, dress, &c., unless it had previously been presented to them by some attendant, layman or clerical. Hence when water is needed for washing the head, hands, and feet, or for rinsing the mouth, when meals are served up, when offerings are made, a young postulant, holding a vessel of water on the board whereupon are placed the dishes, or the articles intended to be offered, respectfully approaches the elder, kneels before him, squatting on his heels, lays before him the object to be presented, bows down with the joined hands raised to the forehead, resumes then the article with his two hands, presents it, with the upper part of the body bent in token of respect. Before accepting it the elder asks, Is it lawful? The answer, It is lawful, having been duly returned, the article is either taken from the hand of the offerer, or he is directed to place it within the reach of the elder. Any infraction of this ceremonial is considered as a sin. In the presence of the people the monks never fail to submit to that somewhat annoying etiquette. Their countenance on such occasions assumes a dignified and grave appearance, that has always much amused the writer whenever he had the opportunity of witnessing this ceremony, which is called Akat. There is no doubt but this custom is a very ancient one. We find it blended to a certain extent with the manners of the nations inhabiting eastern Asia. It is minutely described in the Wini, and carefully observed by the inmates of the Buddhistic monasteries. It agrees remarkably well with the spirit that has originated, promulgated, and sanctioned the disciplinary regulations. He who in this instance would look at the mere skeleton of the rule without any reference to the object aimed at by the legislator would show himself in the light of a very superficial observer. This, unfortunately, is too often the case when we scorn and laugh at customs, the demerit of which consists simply in not being similar to ours, whereas the commonest sense tells us that we ought to judge them in connection with the institutions they have sprung from, and the end aimed at by him who has established them.The narrative of Thariputra’s departure for his birthplace and of his last moments suggests to the mind several reflections. He is certain of the last day of his existence; he foresees with a prophetic glance that his mother is well prepared for hearing profitably the preaching of the most perfect law. By the incomparable powers of his memory he relates to Buddha that 100,000 revolutions of nature ago he was possessed with the strong desire of seeing him and hearing his instructions, &c. How can these particulars be accounted for, according to Buddhistic notions? The spring all evils or demerits flow from is ignorance. A being is imperfect in proportion to his being sunk deeper in the bosom of ignorance. On the contrary, a being perfects himself in proportion to the efforts he makes for dispelling the thick cloud of ignorance that encompasses his mind. The more a man grows in the knowledge of truth the farther he removes the horizon of darkness. He who has made the greatest and most persevering efforts in fervently prosecuting the work of searching truth by studying the law that teaches the way of reaching it, contemplates and enjoys a portion of truth commensurate to his efforts and success. A Buddha, who has reached the last boundaries of knowledge, has therefore triumphed over ignorance and indefinitely enlarged the sphere of truth. He enjoys, in fact, a cloudless sight of all that exists; his science is unlimited, extending over all the countless series of worlds, which, in the opinion of the Buddhists, are supposed to form a system of nature. Thariputra, though much advanced in perfection, had not as yet reached its acme. His knowledge, however, was wonderfully great and extensive; it enabled him to obtain a clear insight into the darkness of the past and a distinct foresight of the future.
[3]The duties performed by Thariputra on this occasion exhibit more fully than language can express the profound veneration he entertained for Buddha. He was with Maukalan the most distinguished member of the assembly; he occupied the first rank among the disciples; in point of intellectual and spiritual attainments and transcendent qualifications, he stood second to none but to Buddha. Notwithstanding his exalted position, he did not hesitate to render to his superior the lowest services. The high opinion he had of Buddha’s supereminent excellencies prompted him to overlook his own merit, and to admire without reserve that matchless pattern of wisdom and knowledge. Hence the inward satisfaction he sweetly enjoyed in serving as an humble disciple him whose unutterable perfections cast in the shade his far-famed and much-praised acquirements. The unaffected humility of the disciple does the greatest credit to the sterling worth of his inward dispositions, and conveys the highest idea of the respect and veneration entertained for the master’s person.
In the houses where Buddhist monks are living it is a fixed rule that the superior and elders of the institution should be attended in the minutest services by the youngest members wearing the canonical dress. The framer of the disciplinary regulations, intending, on the one hand, to confer dignity on the assembly, and, on the other, to oppose a strong barrier to covetousness and to all inordinate worldly affections, wisely laid down a stringent order to all the members of the society never to touch or make use of any article of food, dress, &c., unless it had previously been presented to them by some attendant, layman or clerical. Hence when water is needed for washing the head, hands, and feet, or for rinsing the mouth, when meals are served up, when offerings are made, a young postulant, holding a vessel of water on the board whereupon are placed the dishes, or the articles intended to be offered, respectfully approaches the elder, kneels before him, squatting on his heels, lays before him the object to be presented, bows down with the joined hands raised to the forehead, resumes then the article with his two hands, presents it, with the upper part of the body bent in token of respect. Before accepting it the elder asks, Is it lawful? The answer, It is lawful, having been duly returned, the article is either taken from the hand of the offerer, or he is directed to place it within the reach of the elder. Any infraction of this ceremonial is considered as a sin. In the presence of the people the monks never fail to submit to that somewhat annoying etiquette. Their countenance on such occasions assumes a dignified and grave appearance, that has always much amused the writer whenever he had the opportunity of witnessing this ceremony, which is called Akat. There is no doubt but this custom is a very ancient one. We find it blended to a certain extent with the manners of the nations inhabiting eastern Asia. It is minutely described in the Wini, and carefully observed by the inmates of the Buddhistic monasteries. It agrees remarkably well with the spirit that has originated, promulgated, and sanctioned the disciplinary regulations. He who in this instance would look at the mere skeleton of the rule without any reference to the object aimed at by the legislator would show himself in the light of a very superficial observer. This, unfortunately, is too often the case when we scorn and laugh at customs, the demerit of which consists simply in not being similar to ours, whereas the commonest sense tells us that we ought to judge them in connection with the institutions they have sprung from, and the end aimed at by him who has established them.
The narrative of Thariputra’s departure for his birthplace and of his last moments suggests to the mind several reflections. He is certain of the last day of his existence; he foresees with a prophetic glance that his mother is well prepared for hearing profitably the preaching of the most perfect law. By the incomparable powers of his memory he relates to Buddha that 100,000 revolutions of nature ago he was possessed with the strong desire of seeing him and hearing his instructions, &c. How can these particulars be accounted for, according to Buddhistic notions? The spring all evils or demerits flow from is ignorance. A being is imperfect in proportion to his being sunk deeper in the bosom of ignorance. On the contrary, a being perfects himself in proportion to the efforts he makes for dispelling the thick cloud of ignorance that encompasses his mind. The more a man grows in the knowledge of truth the farther he removes the horizon of darkness. He who has made the greatest and most persevering efforts in fervently prosecuting the work of searching truth by studying the law that teaches the way of reaching it, contemplates and enjoys a portion of truth commensurate to his efforts and success. A Buddha, who has reached the last boundaries of knowledge, has therefore triumphed over ignorance and indefinitely enlarged the sphere of truth. He enjoys, in fact, a cloudless sight of all that exists; his science is unlimited, extending over all the countless series of worlds, which, in the opinion of the Buddhists, are supposed to form a system of nature. Thariputra, though much advanced in perfection, had not as yet reached its acme. His knowledge, however, was wonderfully great and extensive; it enabled him to obtain a clear insight into the darkness of the past and a distinct foresight of the future.
[4]The village of Nalanda, the site of which is at present occupied by that of Baragaon, was the birthplace of the great disciple Thariputra. His illustrious companion in religion, Maukalan, was born in the village of Kaulita, about one and a half miles south-west of that place. Nalanda, says Fa-Hian, the Chinese traveller, lies one youdzana north of Radzagio, that is to say, seven English miles according to Cunningham’s measurement, and is seven youdzanas or forty-nine miles distant from the tree Bodi. It was the great seat of Buddhistic learning, renowned all over India. Now the whole site is covered with ancient tanks and mounds of ruins on an immense scale, offering fine specimens of sculpture. The great monastery and five smaller ones were all within one enclosure. A row of lofty conical mounds, running north and south, 1600 feet by 400, indicates the place and extent of those religious buildings. Outside of the enclosure there were several temples. General Cunningham fixes the era of the construction of those edifices betweenA.D.425 and 625. Among the several proofs adduced in support of his opinion there is one that appears conclusive. Fa-Hian, who visited all the places famous in the history of Buddhism, and describes them with a minute attention, simply alludes to Nalanda as the birthplace of Thariputra, without saying a word about monasteries or temples, whilst Hwe-Thsang, who visited the same spot in the beginning of the seventh century, describes the splendid temples and monasteries which he saw, and from his statement we infer that the principal edifices were not inferior to those of Buddha Gaya in size and height. Some of them reached to a height of 170 and 200 feet. The greatest was 300 feet high. The number and extent of the tanks is truly surprising. Two of them, in the north-east, were nearly a mile in length, while another in the south was half a mile.The inference to be drawn from the above is, that during the fifth and the sixth century of our era, Buddhism was in a flourishing condition in the country of Magatha or South Behar, since the finest and loftiest structures in the shape of monasteries and temples have been raised within that period, both at Nalanda and Buddha Gaya. It appears that, during the three first centuries of the Christian era, its fortune alternated, and met with varied results, agreeably to the favourable or unfavourable dispositions of the rulers of the country towards the followers of the philosopher of Kapilawot. This succession of successes and reverses reveals the important fact that Buddhism had not struck deep root in the heart of the inhabitants of Central India, since its fate depended from the will and opinions of the monarch, and was almost at the mercy of his caprices. Moreover, in the country north of the Ganges, such as Wethalie, Thawattie, Kapilawot, places which had been favoured with Buddha’s incessant preachings, religion was on its decline at the time of Fa-Hian’s visit, that is to say, in the beginning of the fifth century; monasteries were deserted and emptied, dzedies were crumbling down and fast decaying. In some instances, heretics, that is to say, pounhas, occupied the dwellings formerly tenanted by holders of thegenuinedoctrines. This unexpected sight very much grieved the heart of the good Chinese pilgrim. It must be regretted that we have not the written journals of some other Chinese travellers in the eighth or ninth century to reveal to us the state and condition in which they found the magnificent temples of Nalanda and Buddha Gaya when they visited them.
[4]The village of Nalanda, the site of which is at present occupied by that of Baragaon, was the birthplace of the great disciple Thariputra. His illustrious companion in religion, Maukalan, was born in the village of Kaulita, about one and a half miles south-west of that place. Nalanda, says Fa-Hian, the Chinese traveller, lies one youdzana north of Radzagio, that is to say, seven English miles according to Cunningham’s measurement, and is seven youdzanas or forty-nine miles distant from the tree Bodi. It was the great seat of Buddhistic learning, renowned all over India. Now the whole site is covered with ancient tanks and mounds of ruins on an immense scale, offering fine specimens of sculpture. The great monastery and five smaller ones were all within one enclosure. A row of lofty conical mounds, running north and south, 1600 feet by 400, indicates the place and extent of those religious buildings. Outside of the enclosure there were several temples. General Cunningham fixes the era of the construction of those edifices betweenA.D.425 and 625. Among the several proofs adduced in support of his opinion there is one that appears conclusive. Fa-Hian, who visited all the places famous in the history of Buddhism, and describes them with a minute attention, simply alludes to Nalanda as the birthplace of Thariputra, without saying a word about monasteries or temples, whilst Hwe-Thsang, who visited the same spot in the beginning of the seventh century, describes the splendid temples and monasteries which he saw, and from his statement we infer that the principal edifices were not inferior to those of Buddha Gaya in size and height. Some of them reached to a height of 170 and 200 feet. The greatest was 300 feet high. The number and extent of the tanks is truly surprising. Two of them, in the north-east, were nearly a mile in length, while another in the south was half a mile.
The inference to be drawn from the above is, that during the fifth and the sixth century of our era, Buddhism was in a flourishing condition in the country of Magatha or South Behar, since the finest and loftiest structures in the shape of monasteries and temples have been raised within that period, both at Nalanda and Buddha Gaya. It appears that, during the three first centuries of the Christian era, its fortune alternated, and met with varied results, agreeably to the favourable or unfavourable dispositions of the rulers of the country towards the followers of the philosopher of Kapilawot. This succession of successes and reverses reveals the important fact that Buddhism had not struck deep root in the heart of the inhabitants of Central India, since its fate depended from the will and opinions of the monarch, and was almost at the mercy of his caprices. Moreover, in the country north of the Ganges, such as Wethalie, Thawattie, Kapilawot, places which had been favoured with Buddha’s incessant preachings, religion was on its decline at the time of Fa-Hian’s visit, that is to say, in the beginning of the fifth century; monasteries were deserted and emptied, dzedies were crumbling down and fast decaying. In some instances, heretics, that is to say, pounhas, occupied the dwellings formerly tenanted by holders of thegenuinedoctrines. This unexpected sight very much grieved the heart of the good Chinese pilgrim. It must be regretted that we have not the written journals of some other Chinese travellers in the eighth or ninth century to reveal to us the state and condition in which they found the magnificent temples of Nalanda and Buddha Gaya when they visited them.
[5]The conduct of Thariputra on this occasion wears an appearance of rudeness towards his aged mother, which at first hurts the feelings of human nature. But a close examination of all the circumstances connected with this last episode of the great disciple’s life, shows that he was far from being divested of filial piety. He leaves his beloved master, undertakes a long and fatiguing journey for the sole purpose of preaching the law to his mother, and conferring upon her a boon of greater value than that he had received from her. In return for all the favours bestowed upon him by his mother, he initiates her in the knowledge of truth, and enables her to enter into the great ways that lead to the deliverance, that is to say, to the state of Neibban. It cannot be denied that his language on this occasion partook of an austere tone, sounding harsh to the ears of worldly men, but it must be borne in mind that Thariputra was an old ascetic, dead to all affections of nature, looking upon truth alone in an abstractively pure form, without any regard to material objects. He loved the law of truth, which he had learned from Buddha, and afterwards preached to others with an unparalleled zeal and fervour. The spirit of Buddha lived in him: he desired to see all beings availing themselves of the means of salvation which he had it in his power to impart unto them; he loved them all with an equal affection; the state of ignorance they were sunk in deeply affected his compassionate soul, and he had but one desire, that of dispelling the thick mist of ignorance by the pure light of truth.When the instruction to his mother was over, Thariputra desired to be left alone with his disciples. His last words to them bespeak the humble sentiments of his mind. Though the first member of the assembly of the perfect, he begs pardon of his inferiors for the causes of offence he may have unwillingly given them during the period they had lived together: regardless of all the good he had done unto them, he feels that he could not well part with them ere he had atoned to them for any wrong, however involuntary, he might have done to some of them.For those uninitiated in Buddhistic metaphysics it is not easy to understand and distinctly to appreciate the situation of Thariputra at his last moments. It is stated that he fell into ecstasy or trance, though his soul remained as yet connected with this world by slender and almost invisible ties. This was the last and mighty struggle of a being to disengage himself from the trammels of existence and become free from all exterior influence. Soaring above all that exists, Thariputra’s soul passed successively through the four stages he had so often visited, whilst engaged in the arduous effort of investigating truth, preparing to enter the fifth and last one, where he was to stay finally and perpetually, without any further change, in a state of quiescence. When the sage, during his meditations, has brought his mind to bear upon some object, he wishes to contemplate attentively and thoroughly to comprehend, he at first gets hold of that object by his thought, he then examines it by means of reflection: the knowledge he thus acquires never fails to create a pleasurable sensation; this pleasure or satisfaction conveys to the soul enjoyment and happiness; he loves the truth he has discovered, and he rests fixedly in it. This is the last stage he ever can or wish to reach. What has human mind, indeed, to do, after having found truth, but to cling to it, and remain ever attached to it? During the last trance, Thariputra, with his almost immensely developed mental faculties, knew comprehensively truth, reflected on it, felt a pleasure in considering it, enjoyed it, or rather fed upon it, and at last adhered so perfectly to it, that he became, as it were, merged into it. He then had reached the state of Neibban, where he was for ever exempt from the influences created and put in motion and activity by matter and passions in every state of existence. Buddhists, in Burmah, at least, owing to their very limited and imperfect education, are unable to give any satisfactory or even intelligible account of the state of Neibban or perfection. What is here but superficially stated, has been found in one of the last Buddhistic compositions on this and other metaphysical subjects. Fuller particulars shall, hereafter, be given as to the state of Neibban, when the death of one greater than Thariputra shall be related.
[5]The conduct of Thariputra on this occasion wears an appearance of rudeness towards his aged mother, which at first hurts the feelings of human nature. But a close examination of all the circumstances connected with this last episode of the great disciple’s life, shows that he was far from being divested of filial piety. He leaves his beloved master, undertakes a long and fatiguing journey for the sole purpose of preaching the law to his mother, and conferring upon her a boon of greater value than that he had received from her. In return for all the favours bestowed upon him by his mother, he initiates her in the knowledge of truth, and enables her to enter into the great ways that lead to the deliverance, that is to say, to the state of Neibban. It cannot be denied that his language on this occasion partook of an austere tone, sounding harsh to the ears of worldly men, but it must be borne in mind that Thariputra was an old ascetic, dead to all affections of nature, looking upon truth alone in an abstractively pure form, without any regard to material objects. He loved the law of truth, which he had learned from Buddha, and afterwards preached to others with an unparalleled zeal and fervour. The spirit of Buddha lived in him: he desired to see all beings availing themselves of the means of salvation which he had it in his power to impart unto them; he loved them all with an equal affection; the state of ignorance they were sunk in deeply affected his compassionate soul, and he had but one desire, that of dispelling the thick mist of ignorance by the pure light of truth.
When the instruction to his mother was over, Thariputra desired to be left alone with his disciples. His last words to them bespeak the humble sentiments of his mind. Though the first member of the assembly of the perfect, he begs pardon of his inferiors for the causes of offence he may have unwillingly given them during the period they had lived together: regardless of all the good he had done unto them, he feels that he could not well part with them ere he had atoned to them for any wrong, however involuntary, he might have done to some of them.
For those uninitiated in Buddhistic metaphysics it is not easy to understand and distinctly to appreciate the situation of Thariputra at his last moments. It is stated that he fell into ecstasy or trance, though his soul remained as yet connected with this world by slender and almost invisible ties. This was the last and mighty struggle of a being to disengage himself from the trammels of existence and become free from all exterior influence. Soaring above all that exists, Thariputra’s soul passed successively through the four stages he had so often visited, whilst engaged in the arduous effort of investigating truth, preparing to enter the fifth and last one, where he was to stay finally and perpetually, without any further change, in a state of quiescence. When the sage, during his meditations, has brought his mind to bear upon some object, he wishes to contemplate attentively and thoroughly to comprehend, he at first gets hold of that object by his thought, he then examines it by means of reflection: the knowledge he thus acquires never fails to create a pleasurable sensation; this pleasure or satisfaction conveys to the soul enjoyment and happiness; he loves the truth he has discovered, and he rests fixedly in it. This is the last stage he ever can or wish to reach. What has human mind, indeed, to do, after having found truth, but to cling to it, and remain ever attached to it? During the last trance, Thariputra, with his almost immensely developed mental faculties, knew comprehensively truth, reflected on it, felt a pleasure in considering it, enjoyed it, or rather fed upon it, and at last adhered so perfectly to it, that he became, as it were, merged into it. He then had reached the state of Neibban, where he was for ever exempt from the influences created and put in motion and activity by matter and passions in every state of existence. Buddhists, in Burmah, at least, owing to their very limited and imperfect education, are unable to give any satisfactory or even intelligible account of the state of Neibban or perfection. What is here but superficially stated, has been found in one of the last Buddhistic compositions on this and other metaphysical subjects. Fuller particulars shall, hereafter, be given as to the state of Neibban, when the death of one greater than Thariputra shall be related.
[6]In Burmah, when a person has just given up the ghost, the inmates of the house send for musicians, who soon make their appearance with their respective instruments. They forthwith set to work, and keep up an incessant noise during the twenty-four hours that elapse before the corpse is removed to the place where it is to be burnt. Relatives, friends, and elders resort to the deceased’s house for the ostensible purpose of condoling with those who have lost their kinsman, but in reality for sharing in the mirth and amusements that go on in such occasions. Strange to say, the thought of death strikes no one’s mind; the fate of the deceased is scarcely pitied, nay, remembered. Were it not for the presence of the corpse, and the perhaps conventional cries and lamentations of some old women at certain intervals, no one could imagine, still less find out, the real motive that has induced such a crowd to assemble on that spot.If the departed belong to a respectable family in tolerably good circumstances, the funeral ceremony is arranged in the following manner: Presents, intended as offerings for the Buddhist monks, having been made ready, they are invited for the occasion, and their presence is expected in numbers proportionate to the amount of offerings. The procession starts from the deceased’s house, and directs its course towards the place of burning or the cemetery. It is headed by the yellow-dressed monks, carrying their broad, palm-leaf fans on the shoulder, and attended by their disciples. Next follow the bearers of the offerings in two lines. They are partly men and partly women, but walk separately and apart from each other. The coffin appears next, laid on thick poles, and carried by six or eight men. In front of the coffin, and sometimes at the sides, are arranged the musicians, who perform all the way without an instant’s interruption. Behind the coffin are grouped the male relatives, friends, &c., and lastly the procession is closed by crowds of women, attired in their finest dress. The coffin is beautifully decorated, and carried on the shoulders of six or eight stout young men by means of bamboos or poles. An unnatural merriment is allowed, and generally kept up all the way to the cemetery, and fantastic gestures and dances are performed by the bearers and their friends to the imminent danger of upsetting the coffin. The burning place is generally without the precincts of the town, and in the vicinity of some large pagodas. The funeral pile is of a very simple structure; its shape is that of an oblong square of a moderate size. Two large pieces of wood are at first laid parallel, at a distance of eight feet; other logs of wood, disposed at about six or eight inches from each other, are laid across the two first mentioned, so that their extremities are supported on these two pieces. A second set of logs is laid at right angles with the first; a third one placed across the second, and so on, until the pile is three, four, or five feet high. The coffin is deposited upon it. Fire is set below the pile by means of inflammable materials which soon communicate fire to the logs the pile is made of. The whole is soon in a blaze and rapidly consumed by the devouring flames. The bystanders talk, laugh, or busy themselves in stirring the fire. As to the Talapoins, they sometimes take position under a neighbouring shed, repeat a few passages of Buddha’s law, and when they are tired they give orders to their disciples to take up the offerings and then go back to their peaceable abodes. Very often they do not take the trouble of muttering prayers; they depart forthwith, followed by the offerings intended for them.The fire being extinguished, the ashes, charcoal, &c., are carefully searched, and the particles of bones discovered are piously collected by the nearest relatives, and then buried in a hole dug for that purpose near some pagoda.Persons in good circumstances keep up for seven days in their houses a sort of solemnisation of the funeral. Every day, in the evening particularly, musicians are kept up playing until a very late hour at night. The house is all the while crowded with people, who come for the purpose of enjoyment. Some play at various games; others drink tea; all chew betel-leaves’ tobacco in profusion. Sometimes stories relating to Gaudama’s former existences are read and listened to by the elders of the party. This mode, intended either to do honour to the deceased’s memory or to afford relief to the grief of relatives, is rather expensive, and might often prove a heavy drain on the limited means of most of the families. But the spirit of mutual assistance on this occasion removes the difficulty. Every visitor, according to his means, makes a present of some money to the master of the house. Though the present of the greatest numbers of visitors is comparatively small, yet, when added together, there is a considerable sum, which is generally more than sufficient to defray all expense that may be incurred. This custom or system of voluntary contributions burdens no one in particular, whilst it enables a family to make a show of liberality which, otherwise, would almost prove ruinous in many instances. The custom of burning the dead prevails amongst the Hindus, the Cingalese, Nepaulese, Burmese, Siamese and Cambodians. Though holding the tenets of Buddhism, the Chinese have never adopted this usage. The Mahomedans, living in Hindustan and the countries of eastern Asia, retain the custom of burying the dead. Buddhists have doubtless received that practice from the Hindus.
[6]In Burmah, when a person has just given up the ghost, the inmates of the house send for musicians, who soon make their appearance with their respective instruments. They forthwith set to work, and keep up an incessant noise during the twenty-four hours that elapse before the corpse is removed to the place where it is to be burnt. Relatives, friends, and elders resort to the deceased’s house for the ostensible purpose of condoling with those who have lost their kinsman, but in reality for sharing in the mirth and amusements that go on in such occasions. Strange to say, the thought of death strikes no one’s mind; the fate of the deceased is scarcely pitied, nay, remembered. Were it not for the presence of the corpse, and the perhaps conventional cries and lamentations of some old women at certain intervals, no one could imagine, still less find out, the real motive that has induced such a crowd to assemble on that spot.
If the departed belong to a respectable family in tolerably good circumstances, the funeral ceremony is arranged in the following manner: Presents, intended as offerings for the Buddhist monks, having been made ready, they are invited for the occasion, and their presence is expected in numbers proportionate to the amount of offerings. The procession starts from the deceased’s house, and directs its course towards the place of burning or the cemetery. It is headed by the yellow-dressed monks, carrying their broad, palm-leaf fans on the shoulder, and attended by their disciples. Next follow the bearers of the offerings in two lines. They are partly men and partly women, but walk separately and apart from each other. The coffin appears next, laid on thick poles, and carried by six or eight men. In front of the coffin, and sometimes at the sides, are arranged the musicians, who perform all the way without an instant’s interruption. Behind the coffin are grouped the male relatives, friends, &c., and lastly the procession is closed by crowds of women, attired in their finest dress. The coffin is beautifully decorated, and carried on the shoulders of six or eight stout young men by means of bamboos or poles. An unnatural merriment is allowed, and generally kept up all the way to the cemetery, and fantastic gestures and dances are performed by the bearers and their friends to the imminent danger of upsetting the coffin. The burning place is generally without the precincts of the town, and in the vicinity of some large pagodas. The funeral pile is of a very simple structure; its shape is that of an oblong square of a moderate size. Two large pieces of wood are at first laid parallel, at a distance of eight feet; other logs of wood, disposed at about six or eight inches from each other, are laid across the two first mentioned, so that their extremities are supported on these two pieces. A second set of logs is laid at right angles with the first; a third one placed across the second, and so on, until the pile is three, four, or five feet high. The coffin is deposited upon it. Fire is set below the pile by means of inflammable materials which soon communicate fire to the logs the pile is made of. The whole is soon in a blaze and rapidly consumed by the devouring flames. The bystanders talk, laugh, or busy themselves in stirring the fire. As to the Talapoins, they sometimes take position under a neighbouring shed, repeat a few passages of Buddha’s law, and when they are tired they give orders to their disciples to take up the offerings and then go back to their peaceable abodes. Very often they do not take the trouble of muttering prayers; they depart forthwith, followed by the offerings intended for them.
The fire being extinguished, the ashes, charcoal, &c., are carefully searched, and the particles of bones discovered are piously collected by the nearest relatives, and then buried in a hole dug for that purpose near some pagoda.
Persons in good circumstances keep up for seven days in their houses a sort of solemnisation of the funeral. Every day, in the evening particularly, musicians are kept up playing until a very late hour at night. The house is all the while crowded with people, who come for the purpose of enjoyment. Some play at various games; others drink tea; all chew betel-leaves’ tobacco in profusion. Sometimes stories relating to Gaudama’s former existences are read and listened to by the elders of the party. This mode, intended either to do honour to the deceased’s memory or to afford relief to the grief of relatives, is rather expensive, and might often prove a heavy drain on the limited means of most of the families. But the spirit of mutual assistance on this occasion removes the difficulty. Every visitor, according to his means, makes a present of some money to the master of the house. Though the present of the greatest numbers of visitors is comparatively small, yet, when added together, there is a considerable sum, which is generally more than sufficient to defray all expense that may be incurred. This custom or system of voluntary contributions burdens no one in particular, whilst it enables a family to make a show of liberality which, otherwise, would almost prove ruinous in many instances. The custom of burning the dead prevails amongst the Hindus, the Cingalese, Nepaulese, Burmese, Siamese and Cambodians. Though holding the tenets of Buddhism, the Chinese have never adopted this usage. The Mahomedans, living in Hindustan and the countries of eastern Asia, retain the custom of burying the dead. Buddhists have doubtless received that practice from the Hindus.
[7]The custom of making funeral orations for the purpose of eulogising distinguished individuals after their demise is of the highest antiquity. The sacred records bear witness to its existence amongst the Jews. The present legend offers repeated instances ofeulogiamade to honour the memory of the dead. On this occasion Buddha would not leave to another the honour of extolling the extraordinary merits and transcendent excellencies of the illustrious Thariputra. But he had a higher object in view when he exhibited to the eyes of the assembled Rahans the relics of the deceased, which were all that remained of so celebrated a disciple, who had lived with them for so many years, and had just parted from them. It was impossible to give them a more forcible illustration of the truth he had so often announced to them, that there is nothing permanently subsisting in this world, but that all things are liable to a perpetual and never-ending change. The stern Buddha gently rebuked the amiable Ananda for the signs of inordinate grief he gave on this occasion; because, said he, the law of mutability acting upon all that surrounds us, we must ever be prepared to be separated from what is dearest to our affections; grief on such occasions is useless, and quite inconsistent with the principles of a wise man.To honour the memory of Thariputra, and perpetuate the remembrance of his virtues, Buddha directed that a dzedi should be erected on the very spot where he had heard the news of his death. A dzedi is a religious monument very common in Burmah, and to be seen on all rising grounds in the neighbourhood of towns. Within the enclosure of all monasteries, a dzedi is invariably erected; it is the only purely religious building to be found in Burmah. The traveller in that country is always delighted, and experiences the most pleasurable sensations on approaching some town or village, when he sees several dzedis of various heights raising their white cones capped with the gilt crown from the bosom of beautiful groves of tall cocoa-nut trees, graceful areca palms, and massive tamarind, mango, and jack trees, all loaded with a green and luxuriant foliage. When the monument is on a grand scale, niches are made in the middle of each side of the square, facing the four points of the compass. In those niches are placed statues of Buddha, exhibiting him in the usual cross-legged position. The size of those religious monuments varies much in dimensions. They range from the height of a few feet to the colossal proportions of the tall Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon.The custom of raising monuments over the ashes of religious distinguished by their virtues and extraordinary attainments, is a very ancient one, coeval in all probability with the first ages of Buddhism. They were real tumuli, surmounted with some ornaments in the shape of a cone. Such ornaments are seen towering over nearly all the religious monuments in Burmah. Royalty, in its head paraphernalia, and in its abode, has appropriated them to its own uses. We may at once infer that they are of a Hindu origin. The great monarchs who are called Tsekiawade kings, because they ruled over the whole of the Dzampoudipa island, were, according to Buddha’s opinion, entitled to the honour of a dzedi after their demise.
[7]The custom of making funeral orations for the purpose of eulogising distinguished individuals after their demise is of the highest antiquity. The sacred records bear witness to its existence amongst the Jews. The present legend offers repeated instances ofeulogiamade to honour the memory of the dead. On this occasion Buddha would not leave to another the honour of extolling the extraordinary merits and transcendent excellencies of the illustrious Thariputra. But he had a higher object in view when he exhibited to the eyes of the assembled Rahans the relics of the deceased, which were all that remained of so celebrated a disciple, who had lived with them for so many years, and had just parted from them. It was impossible to give them a more forcible illustration of the truth he had so often announced to them, that there is nothing permanently subsisting in this world, but that all things are liable to a perpetual and never-ending change. The stern Buddha gently rebuked the amiable Ananda for the signs of inordinate grief he gave on this occasion; because, said he, the law of mutability acting upon all that surrounds us, we must ever be prepared to be separated from what is dearest to our affections; grief on such occasions is useless, and quite inconsistent with the principles of a wise man.
To honour the memory of Thariputra, and perpetuate the remembrance of his virtues, Buddha directed that a dzedi should be erected on the very spot where he had heard the news of his death. A dzedi is a religious monument very common in Burmah, and to be seen on all rising grounds in the neighbourhood of towns. Within the enclosure of all monasteries, a dzedi is invariably erected; it is the only purely religious building to be found in Burmah. The traveller in that country is always delighted, and experiences the most pleasurable sensations on approaching some town or village, when he sees several dzedis of various heights raising their white cones capped with the gilt crown from the bosom of beautiful groves of tall cocoa-nut trees, graceful areca palms, and massive tamarind, mango, and jack trees, all loaded with a green and luxuriant foliage. When the monument is on a grand scale, niches are made in the middle of each side of the square, facing the four points of the compass. In those niches are placed statues of Buddha, exhibiting him in the usual cross-legged position. The size of those religious monuments varies much in dimensions. They range from the height of a few feet to the colossal proportions of the tall Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon.
The custom of raising monuments over the ashes of religious distinguished by their virtues and extraordinary attainments, is a very ancient one, coeval in all probability with the first ages of Buddhism. They were real tumuli, surmounted with some ornaments in the shape of a cone. Such ornaments are seen towering over nearly all the religious monuments in Burmah. Royalty, in its head paraphernalia, and in its abode, has appropriated them to its own uses. We may at once infer that they are of a Hindu origin. The great monarchs who are called Tsekiawade kings, because they ruled over the whole of the Dzampoudipa island, were, according to Buddha’s opinion, entitled to the honour of a dzedi after their demise.
[8]It is very difficult to understand the extraordinary state in which Buddha placed himself on this occasion. It must have been a remarkable occurrence, since it caused a violent commotion which shook our planet. The only interpretation that can be put on the terms used to describe this particular action of Buddha is this: He renounced existence, that is to say, not only the actual existence that he enjoyed, but also all other forms of existence. He severed connection with this and other worlds; he broke the ties that had hitherto retained him linked to a form of existence. He had come now to the end of all transmigrations. By the power of his will, he placed himself in the state of complete isolation from all that exists, even from self, that is to say, into Neibban, a state which death was soon to realise and render visible to the eyes of his disciples. It is not death that causes a being to reach the state or condition of Neibban, but it is the abstraction from all conceivable forms of existence that constitutes its very essence. The expression made use of by our author to designate the particular condition in which Gaudama brought himself, and which caused a terrific shake of the earth, is this: He parted with the life of change, of mutability, that is to say, he had nothing more to do with existences, which, in the opinion of Buddhists, are produced by the principle of mutability. Buddha called himself Zina, or conqueror, after he had obtained the perfect mastery over his passions. We may give him the same title on the occasion when he has obtained the mastery over existence itself. This last achievement is the greatest of all: the first one was only preparatory to securing the second one. The writer is well aware that such a language is at variance with the notions that the reader is familiar with. To understand its true and correct meaning one must be initiated into the doctrines of Buddhism.The preaching of the law of the wheel, which is mentioned as one cause that produces the phenomena of earthquake, took place, as above related, in the Migadawon forest, or the Deer’s grove, near Benares, in the very beginning of Buddha’s public life, after he had left the Bodi tree. The preaching of the law of the wheel is nothing else than the manifestation of the four sublime and transcendent truths, which, as mentioned in foregoing pages, constitute the essence of Buddha’s doctrines.
[8]It is very difficult to understand the extraordinary state in which Buddha placed himself on this occasion. It must have been a remarkable occurrence, since it caused a violent commotion which shook our planet. The only interpretation that can be put on the terms used to describe this particular action of Buddha is this: He renounced existence, that is to say, not only the actual existence that he enjoyed, but also all other forms of existence. He severed connection with this and other worlds; he broke the ties that had hitherto retained him linked to a form of existence. He had come now to the end of all transmigrations. By the power of his will, he placed himself in the state of complete isolation from all that exists, even from self, that is to say, into Neibban, a state which death was soon to realise and render visible to the eyes of his disciples. It is not death that causes a being to reach the state or condition of Neibban, but it is the abstraction from all conceivable forms of existence that constitutes its very essence. The expression made use of by our author to designate the particular condition in which Gaudama brought himself, and which caused a terrific shake of the earth, is this: He parted with the life of change, of mutability, that is to say, he had nothing more to do with existences, which, in the opinion of Buddhists, are produced by the principle of mutability. Buddha called himself Zina, or conqueror, after he had obtained the perfect mastery over his passions. We may give him the same title on the occasion when he has obtained the mastery over existence itself. This last achievement is the greatest of all: the first one was only preparatory to securing the second one. The writer is well aware that such a language is at variance with the notions that the reader is familiar with. To understand its true and correct meaning one must be initiated into the doctrines of Buddhism.
The preaching of the law of the wheel, which is mentioned as one cause that produces the phenomena of earthquake, took place, as above related, in the Migadawon forest, or the Deer’s grove, near Benares, in the very beginning of Buddha’s public life, after he had left the Bodi tree. The preaching of the law of the wheel is nothing else than the manifestation of the four sublime and transcendent truths, which, as mentioned in foregoing pages, constitute the essence of Buddha’s doctrines.
[9]The particulars of the apparition of the evil one, or the tempter, related by Buddha himself to the faithful and amiable Ananda, show the incessant efforts made by Manh to render abortive, to a certain extent, the benevolent mission undertaken by Buddha to procure deliverance to numberless beings, and supply others with adequate means for entering into, and steadily following, the way that leads to it. He had been defeated in his endeavours to prevent Phra from leaving the world and obtaining the Buddhaship. He had been thwarted in his wicked designs to weaken the effects of Buddha’s preachings. Heretics of all sorts had been summoned to his standard, to carry on a most active warfare against his opponents, but he had failed in all his attempts. Buddha had now almost completed the great and beneficial work he had undertaken: his religious institutions, known over a vast extent of territory, and zealously propagated by fervent and devoted disciples, seemed to be now firmly established. The edifice, indeed, was raised, but it required the action of a finishing hand; the key-stone was yet wanting in the vault to render it complete and durable. Manh was aware of all that; hence his last and wily effort for impeding the finishing and perfecting of a work he had vainly opposed in its beginning and during its progress.The line of distinction between the members of the assembly and the mass of those who merely believed in the doctrines of Buddha, without leaving the world, is plainly drawn by Buddha himself; therefore, there can be no doubt that, from the origin of Buddhism, there existed a marked difference between the body of laymen and that of Rahans. Again, the body of the perfect, or those who formed what may emphatically be termed the assembly, was composed of men and women, living, as a matter of course, separately, in a state of continence, and subjected to the disciplinary regulations which we find embodied in the Wini. In Burmah, vestiges of female devotees, living secluded from the world, are to be met with in many places, but, as already noticed in a foregoing remark, the order of religious females has much fallen off. Its professed members are few in number, and the exterior observance of the regulations is much neglected. The comprehensiveness of Buddhism, its tendency to bring all men to the same level, and allow of no difference between man and man but that which is established by superiority in virtue, its expansive properties, all those striking characteristics have mightily worked in elevating the character of the woman, and raising it to a level with that of man. Who could think of looking upon the woman as a somewhat inferior being, when we see her ranking, according to the degrees of her spiritual attainments, among the perfect and foremost followers of Buddha? Hence in those countries where Buddhism has struck a deep root and exercised a great influence over the manners of nations, the condition of the woman has been much improved and placed on a footing far superior to what she occupies in those countries where that religious system is not the prevalent one, or where it has not formed or considerably influenced the customs and habits of the people.
[9]The particulars of the apparition of the evil one, or the tempter, related by Buddha himself to the faithful and amiable Ananda, show the incessant efforts made by Manh to render abortive, to a certain extent, the benevolent mission undertaken by Buddha to procure deliverance to numberless beings, and supply others with adequate means for entering into, and steadily following, the way that leads to it. He had been defeated in his endeavours to prevent Phra from leaving the world and obtaining the Buddhaship. He had been thwarted in his wicked designs to weaken the effects of Buddha’s preachings. Heretics of all sorts had been summoned to his standard, to carry on a most active warfare against his opponents, but he had failed in all his attempts. Buddha had now almost completed the great and beneficial work he had undertaken: his religious institutions, known over a vast extent of territory, and zealously propagated by fervent and devoted disciples, seemed to be now firmly established. The edifice, indeed, was raised, but it required the action of a finishing hand; the key-stone was yet wanting in the vault to render it complete and durable. Manh was aware of all that; hence his last and wily effort for impeding the finishing and perfecting of a work he had vainly opposed in its beginning and during its progress.
The line of distinction between the members of the assembly and the mass of those who merely believed in the doctrines of Buddha, without leaving the world, is plainly drawn by Buddha himself; therefore, there can be no doubt that, from the origin of Buddhism, there existed a marked difference between the body of laymen and that of Rahans. Again, the body of the perfect, or those who formed what may emphatically be termed the assembly, was composed of men and women, living, as a matter of course, separately, in a state of continence, and subjected to the disciplinary regulations which we find embodied in the Wini. In Burmah, vestiges of female devotees, living secluded from the world, are to be met with in many places, but, as already noticed in a foregoing remark, the order of religious females has much fallen off. Its professed members are few in number, and the exterior observance of the regulations is much neglected. The comprehensiveness of Buddhism, its tendency to bring all men to the same level, and allow of no difference between man and man but that which is established by superiority in virtue, its expansive properties, all those striking characteristics have mightily worked in elevating the character of the woman, and raising it to a level with that of man. Who could think of looking upon the woman as a somewhat inferior being, when we see her ranking, according to the degrees of her spiritual attainments, among the perfect and foremost followers of Buddha? Hence in those countries where Buddhism has struck a deep root and exercised a great influence over the manners of nations, the condition of the woman has been much improved and placed on a footing far superior to what she occupies in those countries where that religious system is not the prevalent one, or where it has not formed or considerably influenced the customs and habits of the people.
[10]The Buddhists of these parts, following the track of their ancestors, or rather copying their writings, are fond of arbitrary divisions in all that concerns the different parts of their metaphysics. Buddha, on this occasion, alludes to thirty-seven articles, which may be considered as the foundation whereon rests philosophical and moral wisdom. They are calledBodi-pek-kera; meaning, I believe, points or articles of wisdom. They are subdivided into seven classes. In the first are enumerated the four subjects most deserving of attention, viz., the body, the heart, the sensations, and the law. In the second are described four objects extremely worthy of our efforts, viz., preventing the law of demerits to come into existence; preventing its developments, when it exists; causing the law of merits to come into existence, and furthering its progress when it is already existing. In the third are found likewise four points meriting control, viz., one’s will, one’s heart, one’s efforts, and one’s exertions. In the fourth class we find enumerated five pre-eminently necessary dispositions or inclinations; that is to say, disposition to benevolence, to diligence, to attention, to steady direction towards what is excellent, and to considerate wisdom.The fifth class comprises thepola, or rewards or good effects resulting from the above inclination, viz., perfect benevolence, diligence, attention, steadiness in what is excellent, and considerate wisdom.The sixth class comprehends the seven following virtues, which enable man to raise himself very high in the scale of perfection:—Attention, consideration of the law, diligence, equanimity of the soul, constancy in good, fixity, and delight.The seventh class comprises the ways that lead to good and perfection. They are eight in number:—Perfect doctrine, intention, language, actions, regular mode of life, diligence, attention, and fixity in good.A volume might be written upon these thirty-seven principles or points of moral philosophy, by way of comment and explanation; but we think it better to leave the reader to make his own reflections, and run at liberty over this broad field of metaphysics.
[10]The Buddhists of these parts, following the track of their ancestors, or rather copying their writings, are fond of arbitrary divisions in all that concerns the different parts of their metaphysics. Buddha, on this occasion, alludes to thirty-seven articles, which may be considered as the foundation whereon rests philosophical and moral wisdom. They are calledBodi-pek-kera; meaning, I believe, points or articles of wisdom. They are subdivided into seven classes. In the first are enumerated the four subjects most deserving of attention, viz., the body, the heart, the sensations, and the law. In the second are described four objects extremely worthy of our efforts, viz., preventing the law of demerits to come into existence; preventing its developments, when it exists; causing the law of merits to come into existence, and furthering its progress when it is already existing. In the third are found likewise four points meriting control, viz., one’s will, one’s heart, one’s efforts, and one’s exertions. In the fourth class we find enumerated five pre-eminently necessary dispositions or inclinations; that is to say, disposition to benevolence, to diligence, to attention, to steady direction towards what is excellent, and to considerate wisdom.
The fifth class comprises thepola, or rewards or good effects resulting from the above inclination, viz., perfect benevolence, diligence, attention, steadiness in what is excellent, and considerate wisdom.
The sixth class comprehends the seven following virtues, which enable man to raise himself very high in the scale of perfection:—Attention, consideration of the law, diligence, equanimity of the soul, constancy in good, fixity, and delight.
The seventh class comprises the ways that lead to good and perfection. They are eight in number:—Perfect doctrine, intention, language, actions, regular mode of life, diligence, attention, and fixity in good.
A volume might be written upon these thirty-seven principles or points of moral philosophy, by way of comment and explanation; but we think it better to leave the reader to make his own reflections, and run at liberty over this broad field of metaphysics.
[11]The Kakouda stream was one of the arms or channels of the little Gundak. It is at present dried up, but up to this day are to be seen several marks indicating the ancient bed of that stream.The river Hiranyawati is one of the channels of the little Gundak, which was flowing a little west of the city of Koutheinaron. The Gundak being very winding in its course, and the mass of water being sometimes very considerable, there is to be seen a great number of old channels, now dried up, or occasionally filled in the time when inundation is prevailing. For this reason, it becomes difficult in some instances to follow the Chinese pilgrim, Hwen Thsang, through his minute and accurate description of the places he has visited. The mounds of ruins which stud the ground may not be always correctly identified, because they are not at present, relatively to the river, in the same position as that mentioned in his interesting itinerary. However, there are here and there some remnants of the old channels which are sufficient to guide safely the sure and patient Government Archæological Surveyor, who now does so much, with the assistance derived from the books of the two Chinese pilgrims, to find out and identify on the spot most of the places and localities mentioned in the Buddhist writings. It is not a little surprising that we should have to acknowledge the fact that the voyages of two Chinese travellers, undertaken in the fifth and seventh centuries of our era, have done more to elucidate the history and geography of Buddhism in India, than all that has hitherto been found in the Sanscrit and Pali books of India and the neighbouring countries.The young religious who is called Tsanda was the younger brother of Thariputra. He seems to have shared with Ananda the honour of attending on Buddha’s person.The forest which was close to the vicinity of Koutheinaron was planted with trees which the Burmans call ingien, the Bengalies, sal. The latter name is evidently the Sanscrit and Pali appellation of the tree, which the Burmese author has retained but once or twice throughout the course of his work, and wrote Sala. It is theShorea robusta.The four laws of edeipat, which, in the opinion of Buddha, can confer to him who knows and possesses them the extraordinary privilege of an indefinitely prolonged existence, are, absolute power over the will, absolute power over the mind, absolute power of exertion, absolute power over the means to attain any object. How can a man, in the present state of existence, obtain the possession of such a power? The only way that a Buddhist has to account for it is the following:—A perfect being, having estranged himself from all passions, from matter and its concomitant influences, solely by the power and energy of his will, acquires a freedom from all impediments, an unbounded liberty of motion, and a lightness and swiftness which enable him to do all that he pleases. He is independent of the elements of this world, which can no more offer obstacles and resistance to his wishes. Several instances of something approaching to those wonderful attainments have been mentioned in the course of this work. We have seen how those much advanced in perfection could raise themselves very high, and travel through the air with an almost incredible velocity. This was but the beginning of far superior and transcendent qualifications obtained only by those that had made greater progress in science, in virtue, and in the renouncing of all things; in a word, by those who had mastered the four laws of edeipat.Mahawon Kootagara means the hall of the upper story in the great forest. Not far from Wethalie there was a monastery of great celebrity, situated in a forest of sala-trees. It had, at least, an upper story, in which was the hall where Gaudama often preached to his disciples and to the people.
[11]The Kakouda stream was one of the arms or channels of the little Gundak. It is at present dried up, but up to this day are to be seen several marks indicating the ancient bed of that stream.
The river Hiranyawati is one of the channels of the little Gundak, which was flowing a little west of the city of Koutheinaron. The Gundak being very winding in its course, and the mass of water being sometimes very considerable, there is to be seen a great number of old channels, now dried up, or occasionally filled in the time when inundation is prevailing. For this reason, it becomes difficult in some instances to follow the Chinese pilgrim, Hwen Thsang, through his minute and accurate description of the places he has visited. The mounds of ruins which stud the ground may not be always correctly identified, because they are not at present, relatively to the river, in the same position as that mentioned in his interesting itinerary. However, there are here and there some remnants of the old channels which are sufficient to guide safely the sure and patient Government Archæological Surveyor, who now does so much, with the assistance derived from the books of the two Chinese pilgrims, to find out and identify on the spot most of the places and localities mentioned in the Buddhist writings. It is not a little surprising that we should have to acknowledge the fact that the voyages of two Chinese travellers, undertaken in the fifth and seventh centuries of our era, have done more to elucidate the history and geography of Buddhism in India, than all that has hitherto been found in the Sanscrit and Pali books of India and the neighbouring countries.
The young religious who is called Tsanda was the younger brother of Thariputra. He seems to have shared with Ananda the honour of attending on Buddha’s person.
The forest which was close to the vicinity of Koutheinaron was planted with trees which the Burmans call ingien, the Bengalies, sal. The latter name is evidently the Sanscrit and Pali appellation of the tree, which the Burmese author has retained but once or twice throughout the course of his work, and wrote Sala. It is theShorea robusta.
The four laws of edeipat, which, in the opinion of Buddha, can confer to him who knows and possesses them the extraordinary privilege of an indefinitely prolonged existence, are, absolute power over the will, absolute power over the mind, absolute power of exertion, absolute power over the means to attain any object. How can a man, in the present state of existence, obtain the possession of such a power? The only way that a Buddhist has to account for it is the following:—A perfect being, having estranged himself from all passions, from matter and its concomitant influences, solely by the power and energy of his will, acquires a freedom from all impediments, an unbounded liberty of motion, and a lightness and swiftness which enable him to do all that he pleases. He is independent of the elements of this world, which can no more offer obstacles and resistance to his wishes. Several instances of something approaching to those wonderful attainments have been mentioned in the course of this work. We have seen how those much advanced in perfection could raise themselves very high, and travel through the air with an almost incredible velocity. This was but the beginning of far superior and transcendent qualifications obtained only by those that had made greater progress in science, in virtue, and in the renouncing of all things; in a word, by those who had mastered the four laws of edeipat.
Mahawon Kootagara means the hall of the upper story in the great forest. Not far from Wethalie there was a monastery of great celebrity, situated in a forest of sala-trees. It had, at least, an upper story, in which was the hall where Gaudama often preached to his disciples and to the people.
[12]The meal Buddha partook of in company with his disciples at Tsonda’s residence is the last repast he ever made. The violent distemper which followed immediately is not, says the author of the legend, to be attributed to the food he took on this occasion. On the contrary, that very food, owing to the virtue infused therein by the agency of Nats and Brahmas, was rather an antidote against the illness that was to come inevitably upon Phra’s person. Previous to the dissolution of his bodily frame, it was decreed that Buddha should suffer. No occurrence could ever cause or avert this tragical circumstance. He had foreseen it, and with perfect resignation submitted to what was absolutely to happen. In the early days of Buddhism, when a deadly antagonism with Brahminism began to fill the peninsula of Hindustan with endless disputes between the supporters of the rival systems, Brahmins, with a cutting sneer, insulted their opponents by reminding them that the founder of their creed, whom they so much revered and exalted, had died from the effects of his having indulged too much in pork. About twenty-two years ago, when the writer was in Burmah, he chanced to meet with a shrewd old Christian, who, by the way, was fonder of disputing about religion than paying regard to the practice thereof. He boasted of having at his command deadly weapons against Buddhists, and unanswerable arguments to bear with an irresistible force on the vital parts of their creed. The chief one, which he always brought forward with a Brahminical scorn and laugh, was that Gaudama had died from his having eaten pork. He always did it with so much mirth and wit that his poor ignorant adversaries were completely overawed and effectually silenced by his bold and positive assertion, and left to him uncontested the field of battle, and allowed him to carry away undisputed the palm of victory. This way of arguing may prove a very amusing one, but it can never be approved of, as error is never to be combated by another error or a false supposition. The Burmese translator was doubtless aware of the weak side offered to the attacks of malignant opponents by the unpleasant distemper that followed the last meal of Buddha. He strenuously labours to defend the character of his hero by proving, in the best way he can, that such a bodily disorder was necessarily to take place, in order to set in relief the patience, composure, and other sterling virtues of the founder of Buddhism. The text of the legend has been read over several times with the greatest attention, for the purpose of ascertaining the reasons put forward to account for such an occurrence, but the result has proved unsatisfactory. A thick veil wraps in complete obscurity this curious episode of Buddha’s life. All that can be said is this: it was preordained that Buddha should be visited with a most painful distemper ere he attained Neibban; and so it happened.To prove that the eating of pork had nothing to do with the distemper that followed, we have the authority of Gaudama himself, who commended the delicacy and flavour of that dish, and placed it on the same footing with the delicious Nogana he ate on the morning of the day previous to his obtaining the Buddhaship. He desired his ever-faithful attendant, Ananda, to repair to Tsonda’s place, and explain to him the great rewards reserved to him for having made the offering of such an excellent food.The practical working of the Buddhistic system relatively to almsgiving deserves some notice. A man bestows alms on the Rahans, or spends money towards promoting some religious purpose; he does so with the belief that what he bestows now in the way of alms will secure to him countless advantages in future existences. Those favours, which he anticipates to enjoy hereafter, are all of a temporal nature, relating only to health, pleasures, riches, honours, and a long life either in the seat of man or in the seats of Nats. Such is the opinion generally entertained by all Buddhists in our days. Talapoins make the preaching of the law consist chiefly in enumerating the merits and rewards attending the bestowing of alms on persons devoted to a religious mode of life. In this respect the practical result of their sermons is certainly most beneficial to themselves. The spiritually-minded Buddha seems to have levelled a blow at concupiscence and covetousness by openly stating that alms have not the power to stem the current of demerits, to give rise and energy to the principle of merits, or to lead to wisdom, which enables man to weaken gradually concupiscence, anger, and ignorance, and to open and prepare the path to Neibban. True knowledge, attended by the practice of the virtues peculiar to those who have entered into the current of perfection by following the four Meggas, can alone enable a man to reach Neibban. Many excellent practices enforced by Buddhism have, so to speak, been reduced to a mere lifeless skeleton by ignorance and passions, but they would appear in a very different light were they animated with the spirit that has brought them into existence.
[12]The meal Buddha partook of in company with his disciples at Tsonda’s residence is the last repast he ever made. The violent distemper which followed immediately is not, says the author of the legend, to be attributed to the food he took on this occasion. On the contrary, that very food, owing to the virtue infused therein by the agency of Nats and Brahmas, was rather an antidote against the illness that was to come inevitably upon Phra’s person. Previous to the dissolution of his bodily frame, it was decreed that Buddha should suffer. No occurrence could ever cause or avert this tragical circumstance. He had foreseen it, and with perfect resignation submitted to what was absolutely to happen. In the early days of Buddhism, when a deadly antagonism with Brahminism began to fill the peninsula of Hindustan with endless disputes between the supporters of the rival systems, Brahmins, with a cutting sneer, insulted their opponents by reminding them that the founder of their creed, whom they so much revered and exalted, had died from the effects of his having indulged too much in pork. About twenty-two years ago, when the writer was in Burmah, he chanced to meet with a shrewd old Christian, who, by the way, was fonder of disputing about religion than paying regard to the practice thereof. He boasted of having at his command deadly weapons against Buddhists, and unanswerable arguments to bear with an irresistible force on the vital parts of their creed. The chief one, which he always brought forward with a Brahminical scorn and laugh, was that Gaudama had died from his having eaten pork. He always did it with so much mirth and wit that his poor ignorant adversaries were completely overawed and effectually silenced by his bold and positive assertion, and left to him uncontested the field of battle, and allowed him to carry away undisputed the palm of victory. This way of arguing may prove a very amusing one, but it can never be approved of, as error is never to be combated by another error or a false supposition. The Burmese translator was doubtless aware of the weak side offered to the attacks of malignant opponents by the unpleasant distemper that followed the last meal of Buddha. He strenuously labours to defend the character of his hero by proving, in the best way he can, that such a bodily disorder was necessarily to take place, in order to set in relief the patience, composure, and other sterling virtues of the founder of Buddhism. The text of the legend has been read over several times with the greatest attention, for the purpose of ascertaining the reasons put forward to account for such an occurrence, but the result has proved unsatisfactory. A thick veil wraps in complete obscurity this curious episode of Buddha’s life. All that can be said is this: it was preordained that Buddha should be visited with a most painful distemper ere he attained Neibban; and so it happened.
To prove that the eating of pork had nothing to do with the distemper that followed, we have the authority of Gaudama himself, who commended the delicacy and flavour of that dish, and placed it on the same footing with the delicious Nogana he ate on the morning of the day previous to his obtaining the Buddhaship. He desired his ever-faithful attendant, Ananda, to repair to Tsonda’s place, and explain to him the great rewards reserved to him for having made the offering of such an excellent food.
The practical working of the Buddhistic system relatively to almsgiving deserves some notice. A man bestows alms on the Rahans, or spends money towards promoting some religious purpose; he does so with the belief that what he bestows now in the way of alms will secure to him countless advantages in future existences. Those favours, which he anticipates to enjoy hereafter, are all of a temporal nature, relating only to health, pleasures, riches, honours, and a long life either in the seat of man or in the seats of Nats. Such is the opinion generally entertained by all Buddhists in our days. Talapoins make the preaching of the law consist chiefly in enumerating the merits and rewards attending the bestowing of alms on persons devoted to a religious mode of life. In this respect the practical result of their sermons is certainly most beneficial to themselves. The spiritually-minded Buddha seems to have levelled a blow at concupiscence and covetousness by openly stating that alms have not the power to stem the current of demerits, to give rise and energy to the principle of merits, or to lead to wisdom, which enables man to weaken gradually concupiscence, anger, and ignorance, and to open and prepare the path to Neibban. True knowledge, attended by the practice of the virtues peculiar to those who have entered into the current of perfection by following the four Meggas, can alone enable a man to reach Neibban. Many excellent practices enforced by Buddhism have, so to speak, been reduced to a mere lifeless skeleton by ignorance and passions, but they would appear in a very different light were they animated with the spirit that has brought them into existence.
[13]The observance of the five precepts incumbent upon all Buddhists is the foundation whereupon is to be erected the spiritual edifice; it is the first step towards the great ways leading to perfection; it is preparatory for the great exercise of meditation, by which true wisdom may be acquired. The faithful who observe the five precepts and the three additional counsels show that faith is living in their hearts, and give unmistakable marks of their zeal in the practice of religion. They are real Upasakas, or laymen, fervently adhering to and taking refuge in Buddha, the law, and the assembly; but they cannot take rank among the members of the assembly or Thanga. Practice of and progress in meditation can alone usher an Upasaka into the sanctuary of the perfect.The rewards destined to the faithful after their death are exactly proportionate to their merits and the real worth of their deeds. The seats of Nats, placed immediately above the seat of men, but under the sixteen seats reserved to the perfect, are opened to the pious Upasaka who migrates from the seat of probation and trial. The nature of the pleasures enjoyed in the Nats’ seats are all referable to the senses. All that can be imagined best fitted for the delectation of the five senses is accumulated in those blissful regions, and proffered with an ever-renewed profusion to their fortunate inhabitants. The vivid imagination of Asiatics has, one would say, exhausted its stores in picturing with an amazing variety the riches to be possessed there. It would be of no utility to attempt to give a compendious narrative of what we meet with in Buddhistic compositions respecting those regions. Suffice it for our purpose to say that the distinction of sexes remains in the Nats’ countries. In the two lowest seats connection takes place between the sexes, but no procreation ever results from it; in the third seats the Nats of different sexes are fully gratified by a simple kiss; in the fourth, by the touch of the hand; in the fifth, by merely looking at each other; and in the sixth, by the mere fact of their being in the same place, upon which we may make two observations. The first is that pleasures therein enjoyed lose their coarseness, and become more refined and more perfect in proportion as the seats are more elevated. The greater are the merits of the Upasaka in this life, the higher is the seat he is destined to occupy, and the more refined are the pleasures and enjoyments allotted to him. Hence our Gaudama having, during the existence preceding this last one, practised moral virtues of the highest order, migrated to Toocita, the fourth seat of Nats. The second observation is, that the duration of the enjoyments in the Nats’ seats increases in an arithmetical progression; that is to say, the pleasures of the second seat last twice as long as those of the first or lowest seat. Those of the third seat last twice as long as those of the second, and so on to the last or highest seat.In the sermons that the Talapoins address to the people for stirring up their zeal chiefly in making alms to them, they are most fluent and abundant in the promises of rewards in the Nats’ seats, as a powerful inducement held out to them for keeping up their zeal in bestowing alms. They admirably succeed in obtaining their object with most of their hearers. It cannot be denied that those poor deluded followers of Buddha are fully convinced of all that is narrated to them by Talapoins respecting the Nats’ seats. Such is the implicit faith of the mass of the Buddhists. One may occasionally meet with a few individuals who laugh at those fables, but these are looked upon in no better light than that of rationalists or freethinkers by the orthodox portion of the community.
[13]The observance of the five precepts incumbent upon all Buddhists is the foundation whereupon is to be erected the spiritual edifice; it is the first step towards the great ways leading to perfection; it is preparatory for the great exercise of meditation, by which true wisdom may be acquired. The faithful who observe the five precepts and the three additional counsels show that faith is living in their hearts, and give unmistakable marks of their zeal in the practice of religion. They are real Upasakas, or laymen, fervently adhering to and taking refuge in Buddha, the law, and the assembly; but they cannot take rank among the members of the assembly or Thanga. Practice of and progress in meditation can alone usher an Upasaka into the sanctuary of the perfect.
The rewards destined to the faithful after their death are exactly proportionate to their merits and the real worth of their deeds. The seats of Nats, placed immediately above the seat of men, but under the sixteen seats reserved to the perfect, are opened to the pious Upasaka who migrates from the seat of probation and trial. The nature of the pleasures enjoyed in the Nats’ seats are all referable to the senses. All that can be imagined best fitted for the delectation of the five senses is accumulated in those blissful regions, and proffered with an ever-renewed profusion to their fortunate inhabitants. The vivid imagination of Asiatics has, one would say, exhausted its stores in picturing with an amazing variety the riches to be possessed there. It would be of no utility to attempt to give a compendious narrative of what we meet with in Buddhistic compositions respecting those regions. Suffice it for our purpose to say that the distinction of sexes remains in the Nats’ countries. In the two lowest seats connection takes place between the sexes, but no procreation ever results from it; in the third seats the Nats of different sexes are fully gratified by a simple kiss; in the fourth, by the touch of the hand; in the fifth, by merely looking at each other; and in the sixth, by the mere fact of their being in the same place, upon which we may make two observations. The first is that pleasures therein enjoyed lose their coarseness, and become more refined and more perfect in proportion as the seats are more elevated. The greater are the merits of the Upasaka in this life, the higher is the seat he is destined to occupy, and the more refined are the pleasures and enjoyments allotted to him. Hence our Gaudama having, during the existence preceding this last one, practised moral virtues of the highest order, migrated to Toocita, the fourth seat of Nats. The second observation is, that the duration of the enjoyments in the Nats’ seats increases in an arithmetical progression; that is to say, the pleasures of the second seat last twice as long as those of the first or lowest seat. Those of the third seat last twice as long as those of the second, and so on to the last or highest seat.
In the sermons that the Talapoins address to the people for stirring up their zeal chiefly in making alms to them, they are most fluent and abundant in the promises of rewards in the Nats’ seats, as a powerful inducement held out to them for keeping up their zeal in bestowing alms. They admirably succeed in obtaining their object with most of their hearers. It cannot be denied that those poor deluded followers of Buddha are fully convinced of all that is narrated to them by Talapoins respecting the Nats’ seats. Such is the implicit faith of the mass of the Buddhists. One may occasionally meet with a few individuals who laugh at those fables, but these are looked upon in no better light than that of rationalists or freethinkers by the orthodox portion of the community.