[2]The Buddha-to-be.
[2]The Buddha-to-be.
And thus he sat for six long years, and at the end though he had discerned the perishable, the transient, the Eternal Way was far from his perception, and life rushed by him from an unknown beginning to a hopeless end, defending itself frantically for a few brief years, but in the end conquered, and the man broken in the frail edifice which is called his being.
And now he was so wasted that life hung in him by a thread worn slender as a spider’s, and the fame of his terrible austerities had spread like the sound of a great bell hung in the canopy of the skies, and if he had gained what he sought all this would have counted as nothing in his eyes, but in the long six years he had not gained, and his mind tortured him because now it seemed that it broke itself and its power dispersed like a mighty wave broken on rocks and fleeing in foam and spray. And one day when he rose to his feet, still drowned in hopeless meditation, his limbs failed beneath him, and he fell and so lay exhausted, spent, believing “This is death, and I am conquered.”
And it could not be otherwise for very terrible had been his austerities and later he told his disciple this.
“I remember when a crab-apple was my only daily food. I remember when a single grain of rice was my only grain of food. And my body became extremely thin and lean. Like dried withered reeds my arms and legs, my hips like a camel’s hoof, like a plait of hair my spine. As project the rafters of a house’s roof, so raggedly stuck out my ribs. As in a deep-lying brook the watery mirror beneath appears so small as almost to disappear, so in the deep hollows of my eye-pits my eye-balls well nigh wholly disappeared. As a gourd becomes shrivelled and hollow in the hot sun so did the skin of my head become parched. And pressing my stomach my hands touched my spine, and feeling my spine my hand felt through to the stomach. And yet with all this mortification I came no nearer to the supernatural faculty of clearness of knowledge.”
So for a long time he lay in the borderland of death, and had this been the end—O Light of the World extinguished, O Sun set at dawn!—but it was not to be, and slowly, very slowly, consciousness returned, and his heavy eyelids lifted and once more he beheld the light. And he thought:
“If I could creep down to the river the waters, warm and kindly, would refresh me, and thought would perhaps return to me, and a little rest.”
And painful inch by inch Siddhartha crept down to the river, supporting himself as he went by the extended hands of branches, and in a warm shallow of water, sparkling in green shade he lay, foredone, and it flowed about him gently, bringing healing.
And the five ascetics watching him from far off said to each other:
“He will die now; the ascetic Gotama will die now. It is not possible that a man so worn and exhausted should live.”
And indeed, when he tried to struggle up and leave the kindly water, there was no strength in him and he could not rise. And it is told that a heavenly spirit pressed down a branch that he might reach it and support himself. This it is certain he did, laying hold on a bough which dipped over its own image in still water, and he crept up the bank, dizzily, and seated himself beneath a tree, supporting his weakness against it, with closed eyes.
And now, being refreshed, he had power to reflect, and he said within himself.
“This way of mortification has failed me also. Like other ways I have sought this beats against a shut door and there is no help in it. My body is so broken that it can no longer support the intellect. I will eat and drink and strengthen this tortured body that it may still be the servant of the higher in me, no longer complaining of its own griefs and diverting attention from the goal. For it is possible that what I have already learned has prepared the way to Right Ecstasy and that in ecstasy I may behold the beginning of the Wisdom which in all the methods I have tried has been hidden from me.”
And even as he thought this the strong weakness overwhelmed him again and he could think no more.
Now, on the other side of the wood dwelt a chief herdsman, very wealthy in cattle and rice, owning land far-spreading and fertile in the rich water-meadows by the river, and he had a daughter fair and wise, named Sujata. And reaching womanhood this fair maiden had made a vow to the Tree-Spirit of the forest, saying:
“If I should wed a husband of equal rank with myself and my first-born should be a son, then would I make a noble offering every year, never forgetting the benefit.” And this prayer was heard, and her first-born son lay upon her bosom.
So wishing to make her offering on the day of the full moon, she pastured a thousand cows in the woods, and with their milk she nourished five hundred cows, and with theirs two hundred and fifty, drawing life through life until at last she possessed eight cows thus fed on the strength and life of a thousand, and no purer nor stronger milk could be. And this being ready Sujata rose earlier than dawn and, went to the byre with her pails, and as she came near the milk flowed in streams without milking, even as when the calves crowd for their food about their mothers.
So she took it and placed it in a new vessel and added rice, and herself made a fire and cooked it. And the bubbles rose and froth, but not a drop ran over the brim, and the fire burned clear and steady without smoke or blackness. And as a man crushes golden honey from the comb that has formed about a stick—the very essence of honey—so into that pure food was infused a marvellous sustenance.
And Sujata said to her waiting-maid, Punna:
“Punna, dear girl, surely the deity is auspiciously disposed to us. The omens are good. Run therefore and get all ready beneath the tree.”
And Punna answered obediently:
“Yes, lady,” and ran.
And when she came to the tree, the Bodhisattva—the Buddha-to-be—sat beneath it, and it appeared to her that his body shone like light and she flushed and trembled with terror, saying:
“Good indeed are the omens, for this is the Tree-Spirit himself come to receive our offering!”
And with all her might she ran to tell this to her lady, and when Sujata heard it she cried out:
“From this day be to me as a daughter, for this great good news!”
And running to where she kept her jewels she put upon the happy Punna all those ornaments suitable to a daughter of the house. And she thought; “What more can I do? For this is a great day,” and so took up a precious golden dish and into this she poured the milk-rice, and it rolled in like drops of water slipping off a lily-leaf and filled the vessel, neither more nor less. Then, covering it with a golden cover, she adorned herself with her best jewels and went stately to worship and make her offering.
So she came along the banks of the river, glad in the dawn, robed in grey like a cloud before sunrise, and about her slender wrists were bracelets of white chalcedony and the grey and white of them resembled the colours of the rounded river-bubble before it breaks, and she came as softly.
And parting the boughs she saw the Prince, his head fallen back against the tree, eyes closed and helpless hands beside him, and deep pity and veneration stirred in her heart, and seeing it was no Tree-Spirit but a holy man she thought “May he accept it!”
And bowing repeatedly she raised the dish in both hands, entreating his greatness and thus offered it humbly, saying:
“Lord, accept my gift and go where it seems good to you.” And he, seeing in this the accomplishment of his purpose, received it, and partook of that pure food while the happy giver watched with such delight as when a mother feeds her only child and beholds new life flow through his veins, and the very air about the Prince appeared to distil in dews of visible blessing upon her head and joy hitherto unknown possessed her noble soul. And she said:
“Lord, may your wishes prosper as mine have done!”, and so departed, caring no more for her golden dish than as if it had been an autumn leaf upon the ground.
But the five ascetics, watching far off with greedy eyes, said:
“The ascetic Gotama has failed. He is now mere man. Like the common herd he eats and drinks. He has nothing to teach us—nothing! Mistaken indeed were we in thinking to learn from a mere backslider! It is done and over, and the Gods are angry with him.”
So they turned their backs in scorn and departed to Benares, there to resume their austerities.
But when Sujata was gone, timidly receiving thanks, the Future Buddha arose and stood beneath the tree, refreshed in heart and body, his face shining with renewed strength, his energy swelling like a river in spate rushing rejoicing to the sea.
And he knew that that place where for six years he had pursued a vanishing truth could hold him no more, its use being ended, and he set steadfast steps toward the tree.
O Tree of Wisdom, Tree of Knowledge unsearchable, Tree whereunder the world’s deliverance was attained,—through all the rain of years between our sight and thee, shall we not look back and behold and veil our faces? For beneath this Tree was Wisdom perfected.
Then taking his way, Bodhisattva begged from a man cutting grass for his cattle, an armful of pure and pliant grass, and, going onward, he saw before him that Tree of Knowledge, broad-leaved, noble, a tower of leafage, and knowing that this was where time and place meeting clasped hands, he spread the grass and seated himself with folded hands and feet beneath the pillared stems and the night came quietly down the woodland ways and veiled him from the sight of man.
CHAPTER XI
Thushave I heard.
Yet of what follows I veil my face in writing, for it is high, holy, and beyond the mind of man to conceive, nor can it be told but in great parables, for by pictures we teach little children. It is the Arhats only,—the perfected saints,—who comprehend and can distinguish the symbol from the truth.
Bodhisattva was tempted in the wilderness. Against him that Wicked One led his hosts, strong and cunning to daunt and allure. And as our Lord sat there in peace, suddenly the calm sea, heaven-reflecting, of his mind, was tossed and torn into wild billows as in a furious storm, and foes which he had thought conquered, rose mighty against him, some most infinitely sweet, piercing the heart with a pain more to be desired than joy.
For, shaping on the dark like a picture—but real, so real that he had but to rise and enter, came the lost heaven of Kapila, where Rohini flowed in liquid light, and there in cool green shades he beheld those loveliest in whose arms once he lay. Soft bosoms, intolerably sweet after long pain and loneliness, entreated him to rest. Deep eyes, love-filled, invited. And at the last one alone drew near him and it seemed that in that one fair face was centred all beauty that was his in those far days. In one all wooed him.
“Come to me—Come to me. Dear lord, you have borne torture for long years and grief exceeding. You have hungered and thirsted and wept tears of blood and still the Way eludes you, and all was vain. There is no Way. It is delusion. Vain it must be: not thus is Paradise found. Love is heaven—there is no other.”—So said the Beautiful kneeling before him, most dear and desirable, with passionate dark eyes more eloquent than music plucked on harp or sitar, words spoken between kisses and the slackening and straining of arms that are the bonds of love. On his knees he felt the warmth of her golden bosom, sun-kissed fruit for the tasting, on his hands the clasp of those little fingers that once clenched his heart.
“Put away your pale dreams of Heaven. O Prince beloved!” she pleaded. “Heaven is here and now by bright Rohini. Come, taking and giving joy. O sad and wearied, and utterly foredone, come back to us and be made whole and glad. Am I not yours? Rest in my arms. Forget the cold ascetic, and be again our Prince, our warrior. Come! Time goes swiftly and the sands of life are blown about the desert and man knows them no more.”
She moved as if to draw him with her, and all her naked loveliness swam rose and gold before his eyes, long hair, brightening at the tendril-ends, caressing the slender curves of perfect feet, the smile of victory touching soft lips,—breathless beauty waiting its fruition, queen and slave of men, thinking its victory won, looking downward half amazed at its own perfection.
Then lifting her head that Beautiful regarded him in triumph as the moon rides serene over tossing waves, and lo! he sat motionless and unmoved, with eyes looking past her to a distant hope, and his face was set and calm as doom.
And suddenly, shuddering together with the sighing shudder of leaves in cold rain, the sweet shape wavered, trembled like an image in water when the rings widen outward and all is dispersed, and it was gone, for the waste night closed about it and took it.
But the garden remained—that home beloved, and a new and dearer shape wandered lonely by the river bank gazing steadfastly upward to the bright billows of the silver peaks, remote and pure as they, and she led by the hand a child. And surely he whom lust cannot conquer may unashamed kneel at the feet of love pure as the very sources of light! And his heart said “My Princess!” and almost ceased to beat, so strange, so sweet, that living bleeding memory;—and whether it was the voice of his own soul or hers he could not know,—but she seemed to shape the one word, “Beloved”, and so withdrawing her gaze from the mountains, looked at him, all love, all entreaty in those sunken eyes—beauty faded by grief, but stronger a thousandfold to plead with him, and mutely she showed the child, and so stood, waiting to know his sentence whether she must live or die.
And round her like mourning shadows swept the image of his father, aged by grief and visibly stooping under the heavy burden; the gentle queen, sister of his mother, who had fed him from her own bosom, wrung her hands beside him and all the faithful friends and servants who had guarded his youth; and together they were the very voice of home, and his own heart asked itself, “Have I the right to hurt these faithful ones! But what are they and myriads like them to her—my wife, my son!”
And whether he would have moved to reach her, I cannot tell, but suddenly, past all knowledge, he certainly knew that never could that great lady his wife present herself as an obstacle and a temptation, and that this was but a shift and a shape-changer not to be trusted, dangerous and cunning like the first, and steadfastly he gazed past her, his face set and calm as doom, and shrieking horribly she fled.
And then, thick as rain inWasa, fell delirious dreams and delusions, and there came about him frightful things, misshapen, goblin, the very spume and smoke of the pit, and there was a noise in the air, that stupified the brain, of shrieks and shouts and groans and terrible cries and far off wailings and it appeared as though great spirits fought in the air about him with the black armies of the Wicked One.
And upon the night the Tempter flung a vast phantasmagoria of the power and splendour awaiting the Prince if he would but stoop to grasp them. King of the earth, throned and crowned, he saw himself. And flames shot about the pictures and huge confusions, and an ocean of terrors broke against him, and the billows threatened to overwhelm him, and he knew that did he relax but for the instant that a man blinks his eye, all were lost.
But he sat motionless his face fixed and calm as doom, and it is told that in all the tumult not one leaf of the Tree flickered but hung still as if carved in stone. Within its shadow was calm: without tumult as when heaven and earth break together in storm.
So the strife raged about him and Lust and Love, and Power and Wealth thundered or pleaded at his ear and could not move him. And huge elemental Powers led on their armies, deep instincts from the abyss of the primeval life of man, conqueering, cunning, rock-rooted, hard to be fought, beckoning, alluring, threatening. And some, robed like heavenly spirits, showed, as it were, the Way, but it was no way, and very terrible were the confusions, sights and sounds of that night of dread. Nor is it possible or lawful that all should be uttered.
But when the worst and utmost were done and endured and no more remained, the Wicked One and his hosts, outwearied, ceased their torment, and very slowly the angry roar of the billows subsided and the foam of their fury stilled, and the mind of the Blessed One relaxed into peace, and the great darkness thinned as at the cold breath of dawn.
The moon and the stars reappearing shed dying light, the barriers of the dark being removed. And now—the marvel,—the marvel!
Let the Three Worlds wait in silence.
Thus have I heard.
For the east became grey, and all being now hushed, our Lord passed into deep and subtle contemplation and entered thus upon the First Stage of Ecstasy, and this was the First Watch.
And, consciousness withdrawn into the Infinite, passing through the bounds of human comprehension, seeing the world as it truly is, not as it appears, his mind moved swiftly onward and upward as the eagle soars effortless to the sun, or rather, as the swimmer daring the current, is caught up and carried strongly and without volition to his desired end. For, be it known, this world about us is far other than it appears, and with enlightenment we pass free from the fetters of illusion. And this is Perception in which time as it is known in this our world ceases to exist.
And in this Perception he beheld his past lives and all his former births, with their gains and losses, their sins and purities, as they passed steadily onward and led him inevitably to the Tree; seeing all at once as a picture.
And soaring higher, carried ever more swiftly onward, ever more profoundly withdrawn, in the second watch he beheld with diamond-clear perception all that lives, and the round of birth and death of all mankind, hollow all and false and transient, built upon nothingness—the piers and fabric of a dream; and saw before him erring creatures born and born again to die, the righteous and the evil heirs alike of pain self-inflicted, and stabbed with daggers their own hands have forged.
And he saw the transient heavens gained through desire, won through righteousness that craves reward, and beheld these longer-lived than the joys of earth yet transient also, for he who desires the joys of an individual heaven and pays down righteousness as the coin of its price, he too is still held within the pitiless fetters of craving, though it be for heaven, and nothing rooted in desire is eternal, but must pass and be done.
And he saw the hells that, gorged with suffering, yet again yield up their prey to the weary round of rebirth and lo—heaven and hell and earth empty and vain, the Wheel of Birth and Death revolving evermore, hopeless and without delay or stay, now heaven-high, now low as earth, but ever and ever a whirling Wheel without rest. And in the third watch there came Perception higher still and our Lord entered upon the deep apprehension of Truth.
And in this the secrets of birth and death were apparent and he became assured that age and death have their source in birth and are rooted in it as trees in the ground, for the body and earthly self implicate man in all evils, divided thus from the Source, and, in a word, life in this world of ignorance, is suffering. For here men walk blinded with ignorance, not knowing whence nor whither, and the high things move veiled about them and are not seen.
And as to rebirth, he saw that its cause is in deeds done and thoughts thought in former lives.
Swept on and up in ecstasy, perception becoming ever clearer, he beheld the so-called soul-self of man unravelled into its component parts and laid before him like the unwoven threads of a garment, and behold in these was no durability nor immortality, for there is but one Immortal, one Infinite, and the man who claims his own, his separate immortality, is dying and reborn through the ages and but the fierce desire of life gives him its simulacrum and the long-linked chain of births and deaths and griefs immeasurable.
So then, swept on and up in ecstasy, he beheld the causes of the long-linked chain of existence stretching from Infinite to Infinite.
And these are they, and this is the lineage of suffering:
Contact brings forth sensation.
Sensation brings desire.
Desire produces the clinging to shows and illusions.
Clinging to shows and illusions produces deeds.
Deeds engender birth.
Birth produces age and death.
And this is the weary round, the offspring of Ignorance repeated in the endless turning of the Wheel, the dragging of a lengthening chain of births. For the ignorant man, desiring the things that are worthless, transient, illusory, seeing about him false shows instead of the high things which are real, creates in himself a passion which in turn creates more and more dangerous illusions, and thus is his own victim. But when false desire dies, illusions end, and Ignorance, dispersing like the night, gives place to the Sun of Enlightenment and the world lies about such a man as it truly is. And heknows, being no more the prisoner of time and space and their brood of follies, for Ignorance, the true cause of all ill, in him is dead.
And having thus perceived the world as it is, our Lord was perfected in wisdom, and shows and illusions being ended for him, there died in him that false self which will have all for its own; never again to be born, utterly at an end,—even that false ego shut in the prison of itself. And in him was completed the destruction of craving and evil desire, as a fire goes out for lack of fuel. For the man in whom is no separation from the Source, in whom is no ignorance, how shall he desire that which has no eternity but is transient as a morning dream? And over him Desire and Death—which indeed are one—had no more dominion.
Thus first he found the way of perfect knowledge, and in the broad east the onrushing of the sun’s golden wheels was heard afar.
So he reached at last the unfathomable source of Truth, beholding past, present, and future as one, having passed beyond the glimmer of the six senses into true perception, no longer gazing through a narrow window, but about and around him the wide horizon—and more.
Illumined with all wisdom sat the Buddha, the Perfected One, having at last attained, and the light strengthened and grew in rapture. And about him the world lay calm and bright and a soft breeze lifted the leaves.
And for seven days and nights sat our Lord beneath the Tree, lost in contemplation of the World as it Is, submerged in the ocean of love, having entered the Nirvana, most utterly at peace, and day and night—or what men call such—made their solemn procession about him unheeded, for he was lost in bliss, and his heart said:
“Now, resting here, have I attained my birth-weary heart’s desire, having traversed many lives to this goal. Now have I slain the self, and the fetters are broken, and not for myself alone.”
And lifting up his voice he cried aloud this song of triumph in the hearing of all worlds.
“Many a house of lifeHas held me, seeking ever that which wroughtThese prisons of the senses, sorrow-fraught,Sore was my ceaseless strife.But now,Thou Builder of the body-prison,—Thou!I know thee! Never shalt thou build againThese walls of pain,Nor raise the roof-tree of deceits, nor layFresh rafters on the clay.Broken the House is, and the ridge-pole split,Delusion fashioned it.Safe pass I hence, deliverance to attain.”[3]
“Many a house of lifeHas held me, seeking ever that which wroughtThese prisons of the senses, sorrow-fraught,Sore was my ceaseless strife.But now,Thou Builder of the body-prison,—Thou!I know thee! Never shalt thou build againThese walls of pain,Nor raise the roof-tree of deceits, nor layFresh rafters on the clay.Broken the House is, and the ridge-pole split,Delusion fashioned it.Safe pass I hence, deliverance to attain.”[3]
“Many a house of lifeHas held me, seeking ever that which wroughtThese prisons of the senses, sorrow-fraught,Sore was my ceaseless strife.But now,Thou Builder of the body-prison,—Thou!I know thee! Never shalt thou build againThese walls of pain,Nor raise the roof-tree of deceits, nor layFresh rafters on the clay.Broken the House is, and the ridge-pole split,Delusion fashioned it.Safe pass I hence, deliverance to attain.”[3]
“Many a house of life
Has held me, seeking ever that which wrought
These prisons of the senses, sorrow-fraught,
Sore was my ceaseless strife.
But now,
Thou Builder of the body-prison,—Thou!
I know thee! Never shalt thou build again
These walls of pain,
Nor raise the roof-tree of deceits, nor lay
Fresh rafters on the clay.
Broken the House is, and the ridge-pole split,
Delusion fashioned it.
Safe pass I hence, deliverance to attain.”[3]
[3]For this verse I have used Edwin Arnold’s translation slightly modified.
[3]For this verse I have used Edwin Arnold’s translation slightly modified.
For now he knew that the builder of the prison, the cause of rebirth, the hinderer from the Peace was his own false self, the dreamer of dreams, the creator of false desires and illusions, and in him this false self was dead, and only the true, the Self that is mysterious and high and One with the One survived.
And next, sending his sight through the invisible (for when enlightenment is attained all bars of time and space fall and man is no longer blinded by his eyes and deafened by his ears), he considered all that live, and like a swelling tide there rose in him compassion for their darkness and misery, and in deep contemplation he considered how to gain deliverance for them also, and with this came the thought:
“Shall I teach? And how?” for he doubted that any would believe and relinquish that false and illusory self which holds men from the light. And he said:
“How can they believe the world is other than it seems and the very sea and sky and mountains far differing from what they have supposed? And they the prisoners of Ignorance.” And a deep voice from the Divine within and without him answered:
“O let your heart most loving be moved into pity toward the people, most ignorant, toiling amid deathly illusions to a goal unknown.”
And as this purpose rooted and flowered within him—a mighty blossom opening its chalice of perfume to all worlds and heavens, the dawn of the seventh day broke resplendent, as it were a new heaven and a new earth and it was light.
Light also within him and a great flooding of light, for not only was the Way opened but the steps now lay clear before him—the Noble Eightfold Path whereby men setting one foot before the other achieve the first heights, the true Self developing as does the body from lowly beginnings to great ends and royalties, but all in order and gradually, each step rising by the stepping stones of dead selves in dead lives to higher.
O peace: O bliss inexplicable, not to be confounded with others, but singular, lovely, and alone! Not in the heavens, unattainable save by the strength of Gods, but within reach of all who set their faces to the heights in true and steadfast endeavour, proceeding step by step in love and patience. For the lowly, the little children of the Law, as for the wise and noble. For he who is ruler over a few things in this life shall in lives to come be ruler over many, so he be found faithful. And at the last—not the dewdrop lost in the ocean, but the ocean drawn into the dewdrop and eternal Unity.
And in his heart this thought arose.
“I will proclaim accordingly the way unto the further shore!”
As he saw it, so he told it: He the stainless, the Very Wise, the Passionless, the Desireless Lord; for what reason should he speak falsely?
Thus, flooded with sunshine and bathed in peace sat the Perfect One.
CHAPTER XII
Nowas the Blessed One sat beneath the Tree in the Dawn, two merchants bound on their way passed through the wood, and within them spoke the Voice of Wisdom, saying:
“In this wood, outspread upon the spurs of the mountain, dwells a Rishi—a wise ascetic—deeply to be reverenced; go then and make him an offering.”
And with joy they went, glad in the opportunity of righteousness, and found him enthroned beneath the Tree, laving his feet in the ripples of the Sea of Bliss; and with reverence they placed food in his bowl, a simple gift and good; and they were respectfully silent while he ate, but when they saw that the Exalted One, his need over, had washed his bowl and hands in the mountain stream, they bowed their heads to his feet, saying:
“We who are here take refuge in the Perfect One and his Law. May the Blessed One accept us as his adherents from this day forth throughout our life, who have taken refuge in him.”
And they were accepted as lay followers and went on their business rejoicing in peace; and these were the first persons who accepted the Law, with faith in the One Enlighted and his teaching, for as yet the communion of the Order was not. And their names were Bhallika and Tapussa.
Yet, having risen, he paused, and again seated himself in meditation, for he doubted again whether it were either wise or possible to make known the great Law to the world.
And into the mind of the Exalted One yet retired in solitude, came this thought.
“I have penetrated this deep truth of the abandonment of the imprisoning self, hard to be perceived, difficult to grasp. Man moves in an earthly sphere, and there has he his place and delights, tapestried about with illusions real indeed to the dim feelers of his poor senses. For such it will be hard to grasp this matter, the chain of causes and effects, for man sees the effect but not the cause. And hard indeed to grasp are withdrawal from earthly illusions, extinction of desire, cessation of longing, and the deep mysterious Peace. Should I now preach the Law, it would gain nothing—grief and weariness would be the only fruit of labour. The truth remains hidden from men absorbed by hate and greed. It is deep and difficult, veiled from the coarse mind. How shall he apprehend it whose thought moves in the darkness of earthly preoccupations?”
And this was without doubt the last, the uttermost temptation of that Wicked One, and the subtlety of it stirred a vibration in the highest of the Divine Beings, and this thought arose.
“Truly the world is lost, truly the world is undone if the heart of the Perfect One be set on abiding in peace without revealing the Law.”
And instantly this Divine thought was light in the heart of the Exalted One and its symbol was that he beheld a Divine Being who raised his folded hands before him, saying:
“May it please the Perfect One to preach the Law! There are a few whose eyes are not dimmed with the dust of earth. They will see. They will hear. Open, O Wise One, the door of Eternity. He who stands on the mountain peaks looks out over all peoples. Go forth to Victory.”
Then, hearing this voice in his ears, the Exalted One turned the gaze of perfect enlightenment upon the world, and he beheld this:
As on a lotus stem bearing the lotus blossom of ivory, some flowers do not rise out of the water but are below the surface, and others float on the calm surface, and others rise high, reflecting themselves in its mirror, so are men—some pure, and some impure, some noble and some ignoble, some strong in mind and intellect, others weak and dull,—but all needing what they are qualified to take of the light of wisdom. And perceiving this, he replied as it were to the Divine Voice:
“It was because I believed the toil fruitless, Holy One, that I have not yet uttered the Word.”
And the Divine Voice perceived what would be, saying:
“It is done. The Perfect One will preach the Law,” and the matter being thus ended the Divine Voice returned to its source and the Buddha passed onward in majesty, musing on the first means whereby the Law should be made known. And since a man owes deep duty to his teachers who, if they have not opened the gate have yet directed him in the Path, his though hovered first over Alara and Uddaka the Brahmans,—but the diamond-clear inward sight revealed to him that in the six years of his asceticism they were dead.
And next he remembered the five ascetics who had scorned him when in starving he had tasted of the food offered by the lady Sujata, thinking “These shall be the first fish I catch in my net!”—and because they had betaken themselves to Benares, he resolved that leaving the Forest of Enlightenment he would go to that great and ancient city bathing her feet in holy Ganges and there for the first time make known the Pearl he had found.
So, alone in the wood, he arose from beneath the Tree and turning regarded it steadfastly, saying:
“O Tree, because of this, many generations of men as yet unmanifested on earth, shall hold your name in honour and a leaf of you shall be precious. Rejoice therefore and accept the sunshine and rain gladly, knowing that life is in the least of your leaves for ever and ever.”
Then with eyes deep and kind, shedding light, as it were about him, steadfast in noble composure did he advance through the Wood of Wisdom, taking the way to Benares, strengthened as one fed on food divine. And beside the way to Benares, journeying on in peace, he met a young and haughty Brahman, proud in the possession of his greatness, whose name was Upaka, and as this man went he repeated the mystic word “Aum,” of which the three letters are the Threefold and the word the One, and in this he put his faith. And seeing the Exalted One passing by, rapt in meditation, he cried aloud with scorn:
“Ha, Master,—what constitutes the true Brahman?” hoping to trip him in his answer. And from the heart of his calm the Exalted One replied:
“To put away all evil, to be pure in thought, word and deed, to transcend pride and desire,—this it is to be a true Brahman.”
And the answer astonished the proud young man, and turning suddenly he looked into the face of the Perfect One and said slowly:
“How comes it that your face is so beautiful, shining like the full moon reflected in water, your form so stately? And whence the peace that surrounds you? What is your noble tribe, and who your master? Here, in this country, where each man struggles to find the Way, what is your way?”
And, glad at heart, the Perfect One answered:
“Happy the solitude of him who is full of joy, who has seen the truth. Happy he who in all the wide world has no ill-will, self-restrained and guided, Happy—happiest is freedom from lusts and desires. And highest is the bliss of freedom from the pride of the thoughtI am I. No honourable tribe have I,—no Teacher. I go alone and content.”
And the Brahman heard in great astonishment, for much as he had heard of religion it was not this. And he said, hesitating:
“And where, sir, are you bound?” And the World-Honoured replied:
“I desire to set revolving the Wheel of the Excellent Law, and therefore I go to the great and ancient city of Benares, to give light to them that sit in darkness and to open the gate of true Immortality to men.”
And when the Brahman Upaka heard this his pride was revolted and he was angry that a man should assume to himself such mastership, and he replied curtly:
“Reverend person, your way lies onward,” and struck into the opposite path, yet as he went, he stopped, proceeded, stopped again, lost in thought, for there was that in the occurrence which startled him from his equanimity. So the moment goes by us, and we do not know it! But the Blessed One, proceeding quietly day by day, came at last to Benares, to the Deer Park of Isipatana where now dwelt the five ascetics who had scorned him. And there they sat practising the weary round of their austerities, not knowing that the Perfect One who approached them had discovered the way that leads from the world of sorrowful becoming and the flowing stream of transiency into the world of happy being where all is beheld as it is.
For to the man who knows not the way all things flow and pass in unreality and nothing abides; but the foot of him who has thus attained is set on the Eternal and in That is no motion nor any change.
So when they saw him coming the five ascetics were angry, and they said to one another:
“Friends, here comes the ascetic Gotama [using in contempt his family name] he who eats rich food, who lives in self-indulgence and has given up his quest. Let us show him no respect nor rise up to meet him, nor take his alms-bowl nor cloak from him. Let us only give him a seat as we would to any person, and he can sit down if he likes.”
But the nearer the Exalted One came to the five the more did the majesty of his presence precede him, and the less could they abide by their resolution. Slowly they rose, and went forward, and one took the cloak and alms-bowl—another brought a seat, a third brought water, and accepting the water the Blessed One sat down and bathed his weary feet.
And then they addressed him as “Friend” and “Gotama” but he replied:
“It is not seemly, monks, that you should address Him who has thus Attained as ‘Friend’ and ‘Gotama.’ For I am now the Enlightened. Open your ears: I teach you the Law. If you will learn, the Truth shall meet you face to face.”
But, still in much doubt, they said:
“If you were not able, friend Gotama, to attain full knowledge by mortification of the body, is it likely you can attain it by self-indulgence and a worldly life?”
And thus replied the Blessed One:
“Monks, I do not live in self-indulgence although I torture my body no more. Nor have I forsaken my quest. Open your ears. Found is deliverance from death and illusion!”
And because the five still doubted, the Blessed One said to them:
“Tell me, monks,—when we dwelt in the forest, did I ever before speak to you in this manner?”
And they said:
“Sir, never.”
And it is told in the ancient scriptures that the very Evening opened their ears and heard.
So, with the five about him, the Perfect One spoke the first words of the Teaching of the Law, the first ever heard in this world,—and where the last shall be spoken who can tell? But it is needful that all to whom their happy Karma allows it should hear and ponder these words for in them is all truth. Now this is the high teaching in the Deer Park of Isipatana, as dusk came on and the shadows.
And it is told in the ancient scriptures that the very evening appeared to bow at the knees of the Exalted One—the World-Honoured, that she might hear his word. Like a maiden she came, the stars the pearls about her throat, the gathering dark her braided hair, the deepening vastness of space her cloudy robe. For a crown had she the holy heavens where dwell divine spirits. The Three Worlds were her body, her eyes were as blue lotus blossoms opening to the moonlight, and her voice of stillness as the distant murmur of bees. To worship and to hear the Perfect One this lovely maiden came.
And though our Lord spoke in the Pali tongue each man heard his own. And thus said the Blessed One, the Tathagata, He who has thus Attained:
“Monks, there are two extremes which he who would follow my attainment must shun. The one is a life of pleasure devoted to desire and enjoyments. That is base, ignoble, unworthy, unreal, and is the Path of Destruction. The other is the life of self-mortification and torture. It is gloomy, unworthy, unreal. It is nothing and leads to nothing. But hear and be attentive, monks, for I have found the Middle Way which lies between these two, the way which in a spiral of eight stages ascends the Mount of Vision even to the summit where dwells the glory of the Peace.
“This is the Noble Eightfold Path, and the stages in their order. Right Comprehension. Doubts and wrong views and mere opinions must be laid aside. The man must perceive the distinction between the Permanent and the Transient. He must behold facts behind hypotheses. Realization of the need of truth is the attitude for its reception. This is the first stage.
“Right Resolution. This is the will to attain, based on self-discipline and the vision which has perceived that attainment of perfect knowledge is possible. This is the second stage.
“Right Speech. This is the first step in the practice of self-discipline. Indiscretion, slander, abuse, and bitter words are forbidden. Only such words must be uttered as are kind, pure, true. This is the third stage.
“Right Conduct. Deeds which are blameless, true, and noble. These only must be done. Put away all thought of gain or reward here or hereafter, for the motive is the deed. Retaliation is dead. Impulse cannot exist with discipline. Deeds actuated by likes and dislikes are forbidden,—let each action be guided by inward Law irrespective of whom it concerns. Act only from this Law which is in its highest Love and Pity, and very swiftly will come the insight to distinguish which deeds are in harmony with the Law and which gainsay it,—and that blessedness will follow which the doer has not thirsted to gain or garner. This is the fourth stage.
“Very difficult to climb are the two stages of Right Speech and Right Conduct, but, when they are surmounted, fair and wide and noble is the prospect seen from those heights, and very great self-mastery is gained.
“Right Living. And this includes the right means of earning a livelihood for there are means a man cannot follow and maintain his integrity and purity. Let him take heed to avoid these dangerous circumstances, and which they may be that man’s mind shall declare to him if he have trodden the Four First Stages. Such a man cannot be in doubt. And so is the learner become a Master. This is the Fifth stage.
“Right Effort. Now, loving, wise, and enlightened, he apportions all his strength to wise purpose, fully comprehending his deed and its aim. He who has reached this noble stage does all, whether eating or drinking, sleeping or waking, working or resting, in harmony with the great Law, for in his obedience he is perfect, and the Law is his life, nor does he need to consider longer than while a man in health need count his heart-beat. And this is the Sixth Stage.
“Right Meditation. This is the right state of a mind at peace, self, he considers only the truth, and having utterly abandoned the thought of self he is clear in perception, having slain illusion and stood face to face with Reality as a man speaks with a friend. He is the Knower of Truth. More, heisthe Truth, and this is the Seventh Stage.
“Right Meditation. This the right state of a mind at peace. At peace indeed, for what is left for grief? Nothing is here to wail, nothing but what must quiet us. Doubt and fear, trouble and confusions are dead. Groundless beliefs, false hopes and fears are forgotten, and in this stage is the attainment of the Peace which passes understanding. This is the Eighth Stage from which, having attained, a man cannot fall.
“But, monks, you may ask, what is the cause from which springs the need for the Noble Eightfold Path? It is this. Hear the Four Noble Truths.
“Birth is the cause of suffering, for life is suffering, passing through all the stages of grief from birth to death. This is the first Truth. The cause of birth is the thirst for living, leading from birth to birth, fed by the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, the pride of life. This is the second Truth.
“The cure of the cause of birth is the extinction of this thirst for living by complete extinction of wrong desire, letting it go, expelling it, giving it no room. This is the third Truth.
“And the fourth Truth is the Noble Eightfold Path. These are the four Truths.
“So by the truth of suffering, monks, my eyes were opened to these conceptions and judgment and vision were opened in me. Not by sacrifice nor mortification nor prayer, but by that which a man has in himself is the Way of Deliverance opened. And as long as I did not know this I had not received enlightenment. But now have I attained, and deliverance is secured, and henceforth I shall no more go out into birth and death. Death has no more dominion over me.”
This is the first Teaching and it was spoken in the Deer Park at Isipatana,—and the five ascetics sat about to hear, and borne on these great words, their eyes were opened and with joy they accepted the Law, and the chief of them, Kondanna, since called “Kondanna the Knower,” entreated the Lord that he would receive them as disciples, and in these words he received them:
“Draw near, monks, well preached is the Doctrine. Walk in purity to the goal of the end of all suffering.”
And further he taught them of the transiency and impermanence of all earthly things and of the Truth that lies beyond when the world is apprehended as it is, free of illusion, free of the fleeting apprehensions of the senses, and knowing this, they entered into the Peace.
And when it was ended the darkness was deep about them and the night of rest was come.