TRÜBNER’S
ORIENTAL SERIES.

THE LIFE OR LEGEND
OF
GAUDAMA
THE BUDDHA OF THE BURMESE.

With Annotations.

THE WAYS TO NEIBBAN, AND NOTICE ON THE
PHONGYIES OR BURMESE MONKS.

BY THE
RIGHT REVEREND P. BIGANDET,
BISHOP OF RAMATHA,
VICAR APOSTOLIC OF AVA AND PEGU.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.

Fourth Edition.

LONDON:
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & CO. LTD.
BROADWAY HOUSE, CARTER LANE, E.C.
1912.

The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved.

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh

CONTENTS.

LEGEND OR LIFE OF THE BURMESE BUDDHA, CALLED GAUDAMA.

LEGEND OF THE BURMESE BUDDHA
CALLED
GAUDAMA.

CHAPTER I.

Buddha, being seventy-nine years old, delivers instructions to the Rahans—Preachings in the village of Patalie—Miraculous crossing of the Ganges—Conversion of a courtesan—Sickness of Buddha—His instructions to Ananda—Last moments and death of Thariputra—His eulogium by Buddha—Death of Maukalan—Reflections of Buddha on that event.

During all this time Buddha was travelling about the country, preaching the law to those that were worthy to obtain the deliverance. He had reached his seventy-ninth year.[1] At that time there were eighteen monasteries in the neighbourhood of Radzagio, peopled by a great number of religious. On a certain day, Buddha said to Ananda, “Invite all the Rahans to assemble in the Gny-Moora hall.” When they had gathered together in that place, Buddha repaired thither, and spoke to them as follows: “Beloved Bickus, as long as you shall remain united, and continue to hold regular meetings, you shall certainly prosper and flourish—as long as you shall agree together, and come unitedly to a decision on all principal affairs, so that you will impose no obligation where there is no precept, and that you will fervently observe all the commands, strictly adhering to all the rules of your profession, you will ever be in a prosperous condition. It is required that you should behave respectfully towards your superiors, yielding due obedience to their injunctions. Beware of passions, and particularly of concupiscence, lest you should ever be brought under their tyrannical yoke. Love retreat and solitude; endeavour to observe your regulations, as well as all the ordinances and ceremonies of the law. Let it be a pleasure to you to receive kindly good religious who may come to your monasteries, and converse with them. Avoid carefully to take pleasure in what you do or say, or pride yourselves in the number of your attendants. Shun bad company; apply yourselves diligently to acquire knowledge and wisdom; meditate on the great truths, mutability, pain, and unreality. As long as you observe those important points and adhere to them, you shall prosper and be ever respected by all. Moreover, you will be thereby enabled to avoid all that which is base and unbecoming in your sacred calling.”

When the instruction was over, Buddha called Ananda and bade him inform the Rahans to hold themselves ready for going to Ampaladaka.

Whilst staying in a dzeat or bungalow, Thariputra approached Buddha, and having paid him his respects, said to him, “O most illustrious Buddha, there is no one that surpasses, or that is even equal to you in the knowledge of the law. There has never been, nor will ever be, a being that can be compared to you. This is what elicits my admiration towards and love for your person.” Buddha replied, “You are not mistaken, Thariputra; blessed are they who, like you, know the value and the science of a Buddha.” Desiring to try the wisdom of his great disciple, he added, “Beloved son, how do you know that no one can be compared to me, and that my knowledge of the law is unrivalled?” Thariputra answered, “I have not the knowledge of the present, nor of the past and future, but I understand the law; through you, O most glorious Buddha, I have come to that understanding; you have said that you have infinite wisdom, hence I conclude that you know the present, the past, and the future—you are to be ever praised; you are most excellent, ever glorious, and free from all passions, and therefore to you I attribute all the qualities inherent in him who is invested with the Buddhaship.” From Ampaladaka Buddha went to the large village of Nalanda, where he was well received by the inhabitants. He preached to them and made a short stay with them.

Phra summoned again Ananda to his presence, and directed him to tell the Rahans to be ready for a voyage, as he desired to go to the village of Patalie. When he arrived at that place, the people prepared for him the dzeat[2] or hall, which had been erected by the order of King Adzatathat, for receiving the Letziwy princes of Wethalie, who had come to a conference for settling some affairs with him. Everything being ready, they invited Phra, who by his silence testified his acceptance of their invitation. Water to drink, rinse the mouth, and wash his hands and feet, was ready. Buddha sat leaning against the central post of the hall, facing the east. His disciples remained behind in a humble posture, whereas the people sat opposite to him, having their faces turned towards the west. Phra began to explain to the numerous hearers the demerits and punishments attending the trespassing of the precepts of the law, and the advantages reserved to those who religiously observe them. “Darakas,” said he, “whoever trespasses the moral precepts, or is remiss in observing them, will see his happiness and fortune gradually decreasing, and his good character falling away. He will ever live in a sad state of doubt and uncertainty, and at last, when death shall have put an end to his present existence, he will fall into hell. But the lot of the faithful observer of the great precepts shall be widely different. He will obtain riches and pleasures, and gain an honourable reputation. He will be welcome in the assemblies of princes, pounhas, and Rahans; doubt shall never enter his mind, and his death will open before him the way to the pleasant seats of Nats.” The people were so much taken up with the preaching that they remained in the dzeat until a very late hour. At last they paid their homage to Buddha, rose up, turned on the right, and departed.

It is in the following year that the same king built the city of Patalibot or Pataliputra, on that same spot. In anticipation of that event, Buddha foretold that the village would become a great city, which would obtain a renowned celebrity among all other cities. Thither countless merchants would resort from all parts of Dzampoodipa. At the same time he predicted the great calamities that would befall it. Internal discords, fire, and inundation of the Ganges would gradually work out its total destruction.

In the morning Buddha went to the southern bank of the Ganges, and preached the law to some pounhas, who, in return, made him offerings and paid him much respect. He stood on that place as if waiting for some boat to cross the mighty stream. Some of the people were looking out for boats, others were busily engaged in preparing rafts. Whilst they were making all the necessary arrangements, Buddha stretched both arms and found himself, with all his Rahans, on the opposite bank. Turning his face in the direction of those who were in search of boats and rafts, he said: “He who has crossed the sea of passions is an Ariah. The practice of the great duties are the boats and rafts whereupon he contrives to cross the sea of passions. He who desires to pass a river wants the aid of rafts and boats, which are made up of different pieces of wood joined together; but he who has become an Ariah by the knowledge of the great roads that lead to perfection, weakens all passions and extricates himself from the whirlpool of concupiscence: he can also, without the help of boats or rafts, cross rivers.”

Phra informed Ananda that he intended to go to the village of Kantikama. Having reached that place, he explained to the Rahans the glorious and sublime prerogatives of Ariahs. Thence he passed over to the village of Nadika. It was in that place that Ananda asked him what had become of a certain Rahan, named Thamula, and of a certain Rahaness, named Anaunda, who had both just died. “The Rahan,” answered Buddha, “has conquered all his passions and obtained the state of Neibban. As to the Rahaness, she has gone to one of the seats of Brahmas: thence she will migrate to Neibban without reappearing in the world of passions.”

Buddha went to the country of Wethalie with his disciples, and dwelt in a beautiful grove of mango-trees. There he earnestly recommended his disciples to have their minds always attentive and ready to engage in serious reflections and meditations. In Wethalie lived a famous courtesan, named Apapalika. She had her dwelling in a beautiful place, near to an extensive and delightful grove, planted with mango-trees. She went along with others to hear the preaching of Gaudama, which had the good effect of disposing her to make a great offering to the distinguished preacher and his followers. Buddha was submissively requested to come on the following day with all the Rahans to receive his food. The invitation was graciously accepted. The courtesan hastened to prepare the meal for Buddha and his followers. On the same day he preached the law to a number of young princes who had offered to supply him with his meal on the following day. He refused to accept the invitation, because he had already promised to Apapalika to go to her place for the same purpose. The princes had come in their finest and richest dress; in their deportment they vied in beauty with the Nats. But foreseeing the ruin and misery that was soon to come upon them all, Buddha exhorted his disciples to entertain a thorough contempt for things that are dazzling to the eyes, but essentially perishable and unreal in their nature. The princes were greatly disappointed at the preference given to the courtesan. On the following day, Gaudama went to the grove of mango-trees, attended by all his Rahans. After the meal, Apapalika presented the grove to Gaudama, who readily accepted the pious gift.

Having remained a while on this spot, Buddha went to the village of Weluwa, where he spent the forty-fifth and the last season. There he assembled the Rahans and said to them: “I intend to spend the season in this place, but you have my permission to go and remain in the neighbouring districts.” The reason that induced him to part for a while with his disciples was the smallness of the place and the difficulty of procuring rice, whilst in the contiguous districts there were many monasteries and an abundance of all the necessaries of life. He would not, however, allow them to withdraw to too great a distance, for two reasons: first, because he knew that in ten months hence he would attain the state of Neibban; and, second, because he desired to see them assembled in his place several times every month, that he might have opportunity to preach the law, and deliver to them his final instructions.

Whilst he was living in that place Buddha was visited with a most painful distemper, which threw him into a state of prolonged agony. But owing to the absence of his disciples, and knowing besides that this was not the spot he was to select for his last moments, he overcame, by his incomparable power, the evil influence of the illness, and entering soon into a state of absolute trance, he remained therein for a while. Awakening from that situation, he appeared anew with his strength and usual vigour. When he came out from the monastery to take his wonted walk, Ananda went into his presence, and expressed to him the profound grief felt by all those who had heard of his illness. “When I saw you ill, O illustrious Buddha,” said the faithful Ananda, “I was so deeply affected that I could scarcely hold up my head or draw my breath. I always cherished the hope that you would not go to Neibban ere you had preached once more the law to us all.” “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “why are the Rahans so much concerned about my person? What I have preached has no reference to what is within me or without me. Besides me there is no one else to preach the law. Were they not looking upon me as such, it would be perfectly useless to attempt to preach to them. I am now very old; my years number eighty. I am like an old cart, the iron wheels and wood of which are kept together by constant repairing; my earthly frame is kept entire and whole by the force and power of trance. O Ananda, I feel truly happy whenever I consider the state of Arahat, which is the deliverance from all the miseries of this world, whilst at the same time it sets a being free and disentangled from all visible and material objects. As to my disciples, as long as my religion shall last they ought to rely on themselves, and take refuge in the law, for there is no other refuge. They will truly rely on themselves when, by a careful attention, profound reflection, and true wisdom, they will be bent upon the destruction of concupiscence and anger, and engaged on meditating upon the constituent elements of this body.” Such were the instructions he gave to Ananda.

Having spent the season in the village of Welouwa, the most excellent Buddha desired to return by the same way he had previously followed to the country of Thawattie. Having arrived there, he took up his residence in the monastery of Dzetawon.[3] The great disciple Thariputra, having just returned from begging his rice, hastened to render to Buddha the usual services. He swept the place, spread the mat, and washed his feet. These duties being performed, he sat in a cross-legged position, entered into a state of trance for a while, whence having awakened, he thought within himself as follows: Has it been the custom in former ages for the Buddhas to arrive first at the state of Neibban, or for their great disciples to precede them in that way? Having ascertained that the latter alternative always happened, Thariputra examined his own existence, and found that the period of his life was not to extend beyond seven days. He next considered what place was the fittest for him to depart from and go to Neibban. The remembrance of his mother occurred to his mind, and he said to himself, My mother has given birth to seven Rahandas, and she has not as yet taken refuge in the three precious things—Buddha, the law, and the assembly of the perfect. Is she capable of understanding and knowing the four ways to perfection? Yes, she is indeed. But who is destined to preach to her? I am the person who ought to perform such a good office to her. I will go, teach her, and, by my instructions, make her renounce her false belief and embrace the true one. The very room I was born in shall be the spot wherefrom I shall depart for the rest of Neibban. On this day I will ask Buddha’s leave to go to my birthplace. Having come to this resolution, he called the faithful Tsanda, and said to him, “Go and summon my five hundred Rahans to attend at my place.” Tsanda departed forthwith, and said to the Rahans, “The great Thariputra desires to go to the village of Nalanda; be ready to accompany him; arrange everything in your own place, take up your pattas and tsiwarans.” The five hundred Rahans immediately complied with the request, and were ready to follow their master. Thariputra, having disposed everything in his own cell, rose up, and casting an attentive and serious look upon the place he was wont to sit on during the day, he said, “This is the last time I will ever see this place; never will I any more enter into this cell.” Thereupon he left the spot followed by the five hundred Rahans, went to the presence of Gaudama, and humbly requested permission to go and quietly enter into the state of Neibban, and thereby be delivered from the whirlpool of endless existences. Gaudama asked him in what place he intended to obtain Neibban? Thariputra replied: “In the country of Magatha, in the village of Nalanda,[4] in the very room where I was born.” “You alone, O Thariputra,” said Buddha, “know the time of your entering the state of Neibban. As it is difficult, if not impossible, ever to find among all my disciples one like unto you, I desire you to preach once more to the assembly of Rahans.” Thariputra, knowing that Buddha wished him at the same time to show a display of his power, prostrated himself before him, then rose up in the air to the height of one palm-tree, and came down to worship Buddha. He rose seven times in succession, each time higher by the length of a palm-tree than the preceding one. On the last time he stood in the air for a while, and announced the law to the multitude of Rahans and people; then coming down, he submissively requested Buddha to withdraw into the interior of the monastery. Buddha, complying with his wishes, entered into a hall studded with diamonds. Thariputra, having bowed towards the four points of the compass, said: “O most glorious Buddha, a hundred thousands of worlds ago I was prostrated at the feet of Buddha Anaumadathi, and earnestly prayed that I might enjoy the happiness of seeing all successive Buddhas that would appear during the period of my countless existences. My prayer has been heard, and now I contemplate you, O most glorious Buddha, and it is the last time that I will ever enjoy your presence. Now, O Buddha, worthy to be adored by all rational beings, I will soon be free from the thraldom of existences, and this existence shall be the last; this my prostration before you shall be the last. The end of my life is near at hand: seven days hence, like a man who rids himself of a heavy load, I will be freed from the heavy burden of my body.” He raised his joined hands to his forehead, and from the extremities of his ten fingers rays of glory shot forth. In this position he bowed to Buddha, and withdrawing slowly, with his face towards Buddha, he continued bowing down as long as he could see him, because it was for the last time. When Buddha was out of sight he took his departure. At the same time the earth trembled with a tremendous shake. Buddha said to the Rahans that surrounded Thariputra: “Beloved children, your elder brother is departing; accompany him for a while.” The people, too, hearing that Thariputra was going away, came forward, and gathering in large crowds, said to each other: “The great Thariputra, having obtained leave from Buddha, is going to prepare himself for the state of Neibban; let us follow him, that we may still enjoy his presence.” Whereupon taking flowers and perfumes in their hands, they ran in the direction he had taken, with dishevelled hair, crying aloud, with tears and lamentations, “Where is Thariputra?” Having come up to him, they said: “Illustrious Rahan, you have left Buddha; whom do you now intend to join?” Thariputra, full of the most affectionate feelings towards the people, mildly desired them not to accompany him farther, and he added a few last words, enjoining upon them ever to remember Buddha and the Rahans. During the seven days that his journey lasted, Thariputra never ceased to praise and exalt the affection and kindness the people bore to him.

It was a little before dark when the great Rahan arrived at the entrance of the Nalanda village. He went to rest at the foot of a banyan-tree close to that spot. At that time there came a young man, his nephew, named Ooparewata, who, perceiving Thariputra, bowed down before him, and stood in that place. The great Rahan said to him: “Is your grandmother at home?” Having been answered in the affirmative, he continued addressing him: “Go now to her, and tell her to prepare for me the room wherein I was born, and a place for these five hundred Rahans that accompany me. I will stay for awhile in the village, and will go to her house somewhat later.” The lad went in all haste to his grandmother’s house, and said to her: “My uncle is come, and is staying at the entrance of the village.” “Is he alone?” inquired the grandmother, “or has he with him a numerous retinue? For what purpose is he coming here?” The young man related to her all the particulars of his interview with his uncle. Noopathari, the mother of Thariputra, thought within herself, Perhaps my son, who has been a Rahan from his youth, desires in his old age to leave his profession. She, however, gave orders to have the desired room cleaned, and a place prepared for all his attendants.

In the evening, the great disciple went to his mother’s house with all his followers. He ascended to the room prepared for him and rested therein. He bade all the Rahans withdraw and leave him alone. They had scarcely departed, when a most violent disease seized Thariputra, which caused an abundant vomiting of blood, so great, indeed, that the vessel into which it flowed could not hold it. His mother, at the sight of such an awful distemper, did not dare to approach, but retired, with a broken heart, into her own room, and leaned against the door. At that time, four great Nats, a Thagia their chief, and four Brahmas, came to see him, and to minister to him during his painful illness; but he bade them retire. His mother, seeing the coming and going of so many distinguished visitors, and the respect they paid to her son, drew near to the door of his room, and calling the faithful Tsanda, inquired of him wherefore so many distinguished individuals had come. Tsanda explained to her that the great Nats and a chief Thagia had come to visit and assist her son, and enjoy the presence of the great Rahan. Meanwhile he informed the patient that his mother wished to see him. Thariputra replied, that the moment was not a proper one, and he asked his mother the motive of her untimely visit. “Beloved son,” said she, “I am come here to contemplate your ever dear countenance. But who are they that have just come to see you?” Thariputra explained to her how he had been visited by Nats, Thagias, and Brahmas. His mother inquiring of him if he were greater than any one of these, he unhesitatingly replied, that he was more excellent than any of them. His mother thought within herself: If my son be so exalted, how much more must Buddha be! Her heart then overflowed with the purest joy.

Thariputra rightly understood that the moment had come to preach the law to his mother. He said to her, “Woman, at the time my great teacher was born, when he obtained the supreme intelligence, and preached the most excellent law, a great earthquake was felt throughout ten thousand worlds. No one has ever equalled him in the practice of virtue, in understanding, wisdom, and in the knowledge of and affection for the transcendent excellencies of the state of Arahat.” He then went on explaining to her the law, and many particulars relating to the person of Buddha. “Beloved son,” said his mother, delighted with all that she heard, “why have you been so late in acquainting me with such a perfect law?” At the conclusion of the instruction, she attained the state of Thautapan. Thariputra replied, “Now, woman, I have repaid you for all the labours you have bestowed on me in bearing, nursing, and educating me; depart from me and leave me alone.”[5]

Thariputra inquired of the devoted Tsanda whether the moment had come. Having been informed that it was nearly daylight, he requested to be set up. By his order all the Rahans were called to his presence, and he said to them, “For the last forty-four years you have ever been with me; if I have offended any one of you during all that time, I beg to be pardoned.” The Rahans answered him: “Great teacher, we have lived with you during the last forty-four years, and have been your inseparable attendants, following you everywhere, as the shadow follows the body. We have never experienced the least dissatisfaction with you, but we have to request your forbearance with us and pardon for ourselves.”

It was on the evening of the full moon Tatsaongmon (November), when Thariputra went to his mother’s place, and lay down in the room wherein he had been born. During the night he was attacked with the most distressing distemper. In the morning, at daylight, he was habited with his tsiwaran and made to lie on his right side. He entered into a sort of ecstasy, passed successively from the first state of Dzan to the second, third, and fourth, and thence dived into the bottomless state of Neibban, which is the complete exemption from the influence of passions and matter.

Noopathari, bathed in her tears, gave full vent to her grief and desolation. “Alas!” exclaimed she, looking on the lifeless body, “is this my beloved son? His mouth can no more utter a sound.” Rising up, she flung herself at his feet, and with a voice ever interrupted by sobs and lamentations, said, “Alas! beloved son, too late have I known the treasure of perfections and excellencies that was in you. Had I been aware of it, I would have invited to my house more than ten thousand Rahans, fed them, and made a present of three suits of dresses to each of them. I would have built a hundred monasteries to receive them.” Day[6] having dawned, she sent for the most skilful goldsmiths, opened her chests, and gave them a great quantity of gold. By her command, five hundred small piathats and as many dzedis were prepared: the outsides were all covered with gold leaves. The great Thagia sent down on the spot a number of Nats, who made also the same number of religious ornaments. In the middle of the city a high square tower was erected; from its centre a tall spire rose to an immense height. This principal one was surrounded by a great number of smaller ones. Men and Nats mingled together, uniting in their endeavours to do honour to the deceased. The whole place was lined with countless beings, vieing with each other in their efforts to show the utmost respect, joy, and exultation on this extraordinary occasion.

The nurse of Thariputra, named Rewati, came and deposited round the mortal remains three golden flowers. At that very moment the great Thagia made his appearance, surrounded with myriads of Nats. As soon as the multitudes perceived him, they withdrew hastily to make room for him. In the midst of the confusion, Rewati fell down, was trampled upon, and died. She migrated to the fortunate seat of Tawadeintha, became a daughter of Nats, and inhabited a niche made with the most consummate skill, and adorned with the richest materials. Her body shone like a beautiful statue of gold, and was three gawoots tall. Her dress exceeded in richness, variety, and beauty all that had ever been hitherto seen.

On the following day, Rewati came from her glorious seat to the spot where crowds of people surrounded the body of the deceased. She approached with the dignified countenance and majestic bearing of a queen of Nats. No one recognised her, though the eyes of all were riveted on her person, encompassed with the splendour of Nats. While all the spectators, overawed by the presence of that celestial being, remained motionless with a silent admiration, Rewati said to them, “How is it that none of you recognise me? I am Rewati, the nurse of the great Thariputra. To the offering of the three golden flowers made by me and placed at the feet of the mortal remains of the great Rahan, I am indebted for the glory and splendour of my present position.” She explained at great length the advantages procured by doing meritorious actions. Having stood for awhile above the cenotaph, whereupon they had deposited the body of the deceased, she came down, turned three times round it, bowing down each time, and then returned to the blissful seat of Tawadeintha.

During seven consecutive days, rejoicings, dancings, and amusements of every description were uninterruptedly kept up in honour of the illustrious deceased. The funeral pile was made of scented wood; upon it they scattered profusely the most rare and fragrant perfumes. The pile was ninety-nine cubits high. The corpse having been placed upon it, fire was set to it by means of strings made of flowers and combustibles. During the whole night that the ceremony lasted, there was a constant preaching of the law. Anoorouda extinguished the fire with perfumed water. Tsanda carefully and piously collected the remaining relics, which were placed in a filter. “Now,” said he, “I will go to Buddha with these relics, and lay them in his presence.” With his companion Anoorouda, he took, together with the relics, the patta and tsiwaran of the deceased, and returned to Buddha to relate to him all the particulars concerning the last moments of his great disciple.

Tsanda was the younger brother of the great Thariputra. It was to him that the honour belonged of being the person selected to convey to Buddha the precious relics. When, however, he had come to the monastery, he was unwilling to go alone into Buddha’s presence. He went first to Ananda, his intimate friend, and said to him, “My brother Thariputra has obtained the state of Neibban. Here are the patta, tsiwaran, and relics,” exhibiting before him, one after the other, those precious articles. Both went together to Buddha’s place, and laid at his feet the patta, tsiwaran, and relics of the great disciple. Buddha, placing the relics on the palm of his right hand, called all the Rahans and said to them, “Beloved Rahans, this is all that remains of one who, a few days ago, was performing wonders in your presence, and has now reached the state of Neibban, something resembling a pure white shell. During an a thingie and hundred thousands of worlds, he has perfected himself by the practice of virtue. Beloved children, he could preach the law like another Buddha. He knew how to gain friends; crowds of people followed him to hear his instructions. Excepting me, no one in ten thousand worlds was equal to him. His wisdom was at once great and cheerful, his mind quick and penetrating. He knew how to restrain his desires, and to be easily satisfied with little. He loved retirement. He severely rebuked evil-doers. Beloved children, Thariputra renounced all pleasures and gratifications to become a Rahan; he always shunned strifes and contentions, as well as long and idle conversations. His patient zeal for the diffusion of my religion equalled the thickness of the globe. He was like a bull, the horns of which have been broken. My beloved Rahans, look once more at the relics of my wise son, Thariputra.” Buddha in this manner eulogised the virtues of the illustrious deceased in five hundred stanzas.[7]

On hearing all that Buddha had said to honour the memory of Thariputra, Ananda was filled with sentiments of the tenderest emotion. He could not refrain from shedding abundant tears. Buddha quickly remarked all that was taking place in his faithful and loving attendant, and said to him, “Ananda, on former occasions I have, in my preachings, endeavoured to shelter your soul from the impressions caused by such and like emotions. Two things can alone keep us separated from father, mother, brothers, sisters, &c.,—in a word, from all that we most cherish, viz., death and distance. I, though a Buddha, have been exposed to all those changes brought on by distance when I practised the great virtues in the solitude, when I displayed wonders and spent a season in the seat of Tawadeintha. In those circumstances, distance kept me far from all those that were dearest to me. Would it not have been considered as useless, if not unbecoming, to shed tears either on my account or that of others? Can there ever be a time when any, how painful soever, occurrence may warrant wailing and lamenting?” With these and other considerations, Buddha soothed the affliction of Ananda, and filled his soul with consolations.

Buddha, to complete, as it were, the work of praises in favour of his great disciple, caused a dzedi to be erected in his honour near the entrance of the Dzetawon monastery. Having satisfied the sacred duty of gratitude towards the greatest of his disciples, Gaudama resolved to leave the monastery of Dzetawon for the country of Radzagio. Ananda was, as usual, directed to inform the Rahans to hold themselves ready for immediate departure.

The most excellent Phra having reached Radzagio, which he was to visit for the last time, took his abode into the Weloowon monastery. He had not stayed long in that place when the other great disciple, Maukalan, went to Neibban. Here are the particulars respecting the last moments of the illustrious companion of Thariputra. The heterodox Rahans, who lived in a state of complete nakedness, were extremely jealous of the popularity of Buddha, and coveted the abundant alms that were offered to him and his disciples. Maukalan, who was living on the Isigili mountain, in the cave of the dark rock, was supposed, on account of his great attainments and profound science, to be the cause of the great respect the people paid to his master. They resolved to kill him. For that purpose they armed five hundred robbers, and gave them one thousand pieces of silver to perpetrate the horrible crime. The assassins went twice to the cave; but their victim twice escaped their fury. At last, owing to the influence of a former bad deed, Maukalan resigned himself into the hands of the ruffians, who put him to death. They beat him so severely, that his lifeless remains were no more than a heap of mangled flesh, which they threw into the midst of bushes. The news of the appalling murder spread rapidly through the country. King Adzatathat had the murderers arrested. Having known from their own confession that the naked Rahans were the instigators of the murder, he had them likewise arrested. In front of his palace he ordered one thousand holes to be dug; in each hole a criminal was sunk up to his navel. All the ground was then overspread with straw, which being set fire to, all the wretches soon perished.

On hearing such news the disciples were greatly grieved, and asked each other what might have been the cause which had brought the aged Maukalan to such a cruel end. Buddha, appearing suddenly among them, said, “Beloved sons, what is the subject of your conversation?” They replied that they were conversing on the tragical death of their great companion. “I declare unto you,” retorted Buddha, “that Maukalan has met a well-merited death. In one of his former existences, my beloved son, at the instigation of his wife, misled his aged and blind parents into a forest, where, leaving them alone, he went away for awhile. On his return, affecting the manners and voice of a highwayman, he killed his parents, and threw their bodies into a thicket. For this crime he has suffered the torments of hell during one thousand years, and has had to undergo the cruel death that has put an end to his last existence.” Having thus spoken, he ordered that a dzedi should be erected in honour of Maukalan near the gate of the Weloowon monastery.

CHAPTER II.

Voyage to Wethalie—Last temptation of Manh—Causes of earthquake—New instructions to the Rahans—Last meal of Buddha—His painful distemper—His conversation with one of the Malla princes—Sign foreshowing Buddha’s coming death—Arrival in the Kootheinaron forest—Buddha lays himself on his couch—Wonders attending that event—Instructions to Ananda—Eulogium of Ananda by Buddha—Conversion of Thoubat—Last words of Buddha to the Rahans—His death.

Having left Radzagio Buddha intimated to Ananda that he wished to return to Wethalie. On his way to the right bank of the Ganges, he arrived at a place called Oukkatsela, where he preached on the death of his two greatest disciples. Thence he crossed the mighty stream and shaped his course towards Wethalie. On the day that he entered the city he went in quest of his food. Having partaken of what he had received, he called Ananda, bade him take his mat and cushion, and follow him to the Tsapala dzedi, where he intended to spend a part of the day. Complying with the command, Ananda followed Buddha, and with him went to the beautiful site of Tsapala, to the place prepared for his master. Ananda approached Phra, and, respectfully prostrated, said to him, “This is, indeed, a very agreeable place.” Whereupon Buddha, rejoicing, praised the different sites of that country which were in the neighbourhood of the Wethalie city, as well as the dzedis that adorned them, and added, “Ananda, every wise person ought to be earnest in perfecting himself in the four laws of edeipat. Having advanced in the practice of these laws, he can, if he choose to do so, remain in a state of fixity during a whole revolution of nature, and even more. I, the Buddha, have become perfect in those laws, and I may remain as I am now during an innumerable number of years.” Three times the same words were repeated. But Ananda, entangled as yet in the meshes of the tempter Manh Nat, remained prostrated before Buddha. It never came to his mind to entreat him to remain longer on earth for the benefit of mortals, who would derive the greatest advantages from his presence.

At that time Ananda rose up, with his mind troubled by the influence of the evil one, withdrew from Buddha’s presence and went to the foot of a tree at a small distance. He had scarcely left Buddha alone when the Nat Manh, perceiving that Buddha remained alone for awhile, approached near his person, and keeping at a respectful distance, said to him, “Great, illustrious, and glorious Phra, who preachest an excellent law, it is now time for you to enter into the state of Neibban. You said in former times, that as long as your disciples were not much advanced in knowledge, as long as they had not obtained a thorough command over their heart, mouth, and senses, as long as they were still wanting in firmness and diligence for hearing and understanding the law, or unequal to the task of preaching the law, you would not go to Neibban. Now the Rahans, members of the assembly and your disciples, both males and females, are thoroughly instructed in all the parts of the law; they are firm in controlling their passions; they can preach the law to the other mortals; the Nats and Brahmas have heard your preachings, and countless numbers among them have obtained the deliverance; the time, therefore, is come for you to enter into the state of Neibban.” Buddha knowing the wicked one, with his evil dispositions, replied, “Ha! wretched Manh, do not concern yourself about me. Ere long I will go to Neibban.”

Whilst he was near the dzedi of Tsapala, Buddha, in a moment of perfect calmness of mind, entered into a sort of extraordinary state of contemplation, in which, for the first time, he mastered completely the principles of life, and appeared as if he had abandoned life. But it ought not to be understood that he parted with life, as a man lets go a stone that he has in his hands; but he estranged himself from the material life, renounced it, and placed himself beyond the reach of the influence that produces reward in the material or immaterial seats, and above that other influence which, procuring merits or demerits, keeps a being in the whirlpool of transmigration. As a mighty warrior on the battle-field throws down every barrier or obstacle that he meets, so Buddha broke down all the ties that had hitherto linked him to the state of existence.[8] At that very instant the earth trembled with such violence that it caused the hairs of one’s head to stand on end. Then he said to all present, “I am delivered from the influence of the world of matter, of the world of passions, and from every influence that causes the migration from one existence to another. I enjoy now a perfect calm of mind; like the mighty warrior who on the field of battle has conquered all his enemies, I have triumphed over all passions. I have mastered existence itself by destroying the principle that causes it.” These words were uttered by Phra, lest perhaps some people might infer that he entered into the extraordinary state on which he mastered the elements of life, from fear caused by the language of the tempter, inviting him to go forthwith to Neibban.

Ananda, having felt the earthquake, respectfully approached Buddha and prostrated himself before him. Withdrawing then to a becoming distance, he asked him the causes that produce the extraordinary and terrifying phenomenon of earthquakes. “My son,” answered Buddha, “eight causes make the earth tremble: 1st, The earth lies on a mass of water, which rests on the air, and the air on space; when the air is set in motion, it shakes the water, which in its turn shakes the earth; 2d, any being gifted with extraordinary powers; 3d, the conception of Phralaong for his last existence; 4th, his birth; 5th, his becoming a Buddha; 6th, his preaching the law of the wheel; 7th, his mastering and renouncing existence; 8th, his obtaining the state of Neibban. These are the eight causes of earthquakes. Ananda, a little while after having become a Buddha, I was in the solitude of Ouroowela, on the banks of the river Neritzara, under the shade of a banyan-tree planted by some shepherds. The wicked Nat came into my presence and requested me to go forthwith to Neibban. I refused then to comply with his demand, and said to him, ‘Wretched Manh, my disciples, members of the assembly, either males or females, the believers, either men or women, have not yet acquired sufficient knowledge, prudence, and penetration, courage, and resolution. They have not been as yet properly instructed in the most essential and highest articles of the law; they are unable to teach others: my religion is not yet resting on a strong foundation. The time, therefore, is not yet come for me to enter into the state of Neibban. Now, near this very dzedi of Tsapala, he has come anew and told me the same thing. Do not trouble yourself, miserable wretch, have I said to him; three months hence, I will obtain the state of Neibban. On this occasion I have fallen into the state in which I have mastered the principles of life by the means of the four laws of edeipat.’”[9]

Ananda said to Phra: “Illustrious Buddha, please to remain during a whole Kalpa in this world for the benefit of men, Nats, and Brahmas.” “Ananda,” replied Phra, “your present request is too late and cannot be granted.” Three times the faithful disciple begged of his great teacher this favour, and three times he received the same refusal. “Do you believe, O Ananda, that I know the four ways that lead to science and wisdom, and that I am perfect in the four laws of edeipat?” “I do believe it,” answered Ananda. “Do you recollect, O Ananda, that a little while ago I said to you three times that he who was perfect in the laws of edeipat could remain, if he chose, during an entire Kalpa in this world? I added that I was thoroughly acquainted with these four laws; but you remained silent, and made no demand of me to remain longer in this world. The time for making this request is now irrevocably past. The term of my life is for ever fixedly determined. Now, Ananda, let us go to Mahawon Kootagara in the forest of the sala-trees.” Having reached the place and stayed therein for a few days, he desired his faithful attendant to go to Wethalie and assemble all the Rahans in the Gnyipoora hall. When they had all assembled in that place, Ananda informed Buddha that his order had been duly executed. Phra went to the hall, and sat in the place prepared for him. He then, addressing the assembly, said: “My beloved children, the law which my supreme wisdom has discovered, I have announced for your benefit and advantage. You have attentively and perseveringly listened to it, firmly adhered to its tenets, and zealously propagated them. Now my religion shall last for a long period, and prove the source of great blessings to all Nats. But to the end that my religion may last long, shine forth with splendour, and be productive of incalculable benefits, it is necessary that great attention should be paid to the thirty-seven laws from which all good works proceed.[10] These laws you have been acquainted with by my preachings; it is to you to announce them to all beings. Meditate with unremitting attention on the principles of change and mutability. As to me, ere long I will go to Neibban; three months more, and this last drama shall be over.”

In the morning Buddha, putting on his dress, went out to beg his food, carrying the patta on his left arm. When he had eaten his meal, he looked with the steadiness of an elephant over the whole country. The reason why he cast a look like an elephant over Wethalie is, as he explained it to Ananda, the following:—The neck-bone of all Buddhas is not like the links of a chain, but consists of one single solid bone: hence when they wish to consider some object lying behind they cannot turn their heads backwards, but the whole body, like that of the elephant, must follow the same motion. On this and other occasions of this kind, our Buddha had not to make any effort, but the earth turning round, like the wheel of the potter, brought the object to be looked at before him. The great city of Wethalie was within three years to be destroyed by King Adzatathat. As Buddha had always received many marks of respect and attention from the inhabitants of that city, he felt the greatest commiseration for them. His last glance was a sorrowful farewell he bade to the devoted city. This is the motive that induced Buddha to cast a last look over it.

Buddha went to a place called Pantoogama. He passed successively through Hatti, Tsampou, and Appara, and thence to Bauga. In the latter place he preached the four laws of Padesa. Summoning Ananda to his presence, he desired him to inform the Rahans to hold themselves ready to go to the Pawa country. Having reached that district, he went with all his Rahans to live in a monastery built in a grove of mango-trees erected by Tsonda, the son of a wealthy goldsmith. Tsonda had previously seen Buddha, and obtained the state of Thautapan. His gratitude induced him to build a monastery, which, together with the grove, he had given over to Buddha. His arrival at that place happened on the 14th of the waxing moon of Katson.

Informed that Phra had come to the monastery, Tsonda repaired hastily thither, prostrated himself before him, and having taken a seat at a becoming distance, requested Buddha to accept the meal he would prepare for him and all the Rahans. Buddha by his silence acquiesced in the request. Tsonda rose up, bowed down, and turning to the right, left the monastery. During the whole night, all sorts of the choicest dishes were prepared. He had a young pig, neither fat nor lean, killed, and the flesh dressed with rice in the most exquisite manner. The Nats infused into it the most delicious flavour. At daybreak, everything being ready, Tsonda went to the monastery, and invited Buddha and all the Rahans to come and partake of the meal that was ready for them. Buddha rose up, and, carrying his patta, went to Tsonda’s house, where he sat in the place prepared for his reception. He took for himself the pork and rice, but his attendants feasted upon the other dishes. When he had eaten, he desired Tsonda to bury in the earth the remains of the pork and rice, because no one in the Nats’ or Brahmas’ seats but himself could digest such a food. A little while after, Buddha was seized with a violent attack of dysentery, the pain whereof he bore with the greatest patience and composure. He suffered so much, not because of the food he had taken, as he would otherwise have been exposed to the same distemper. The pain was rather alleviated by the eating of the pork and rice, because the Nats had infused therein the choicest flavour.

Buddha desired Ananda to be ready to go to the town of Koutheinaron. While on the way he felt very weak, and retired under the shade of a tree, commanding Ananda to fold his dugout to sit upon. When he had rested a little, he called Ananda and said to him: “Ananda, I am very thirsty; bring me some water.” Ananda replied: “One of the Malla princes, named Poukatha, has just passed through the Kakouda river with five hundred carts, and the water is quite muddy.” The Malla princes ruled by turn over the country. When the time for ruling had not yet come, or had passed, many of them devoted their time to the pursuit of trade. Notwithstanding this objection, Buddha repeated three times the injunction. Ananda at last took up Phra’s patta and went to the stream to fetch water. How great was his surprise when he found the water clear and limpid. He said to himself: “Great indeed is the power of Buddha, who has worked such a wonderful change in this stream.” He filled the patta with water and brought it to his great teacher, who drank of it.

Prince Poukatha had been a disciple of the Rathee Alara. He came to Buddha, and said to him, whilst he was under the shade of the tree: “Great indeed is the peace and calm composure of mind of the Rahans. On a former occasion,” added he, “whilst the Rathee Alara was travelling, he went to rest under the shade of a tree, at a small distance, by the wayside. A merchant with five hundred carts happened to pass by. A man that followed at a distance came to the place where Alara was resting, and inquired of him if he had seen the five hundred carts that had just passed by. Alara replied that he was not aware that any cart had come in sight. The man at first suspected that Alara was unsound in his mind, but he was soon convinced that what he was at first inclined to attribute to mental derangement was caused by the sublime abstraction of the Rathee from all that was taking place.”

Buddha having heard this story, rejoined: “Which is, in your opinion, the more wonderful occurrence, to see a man in his senses and awake not to notice the passing of five hundred carts or even of one thousand, or to see another man, equally awake and in the enjoyment of his mental faculties, who did not hear the violence of a storm, a heavy fall of rain, accompanied with loud peals of thunder and uninterrupted flashes of lightning? In former times, I, the Buddha, was sitting under a small shed. A most violent storm came on; peals of thunder resounded more awfully than the roaring of the sea, and lightnings seemed to rend the atmosphere in every direction. At that time two brothers were ploughing in a field with four bullocks. They were all killed, men and bullocks, by lightning. A man came to me whilst I was walking in front of the shed, and told me that he came to see the accident that had just happened, and asked me some particulars concerning it. I answered him that I was not aware that any storm had raged near this place, nor any accident attended it. The stranger inquired of me whether I was asleep; or if not, whether I was in possession of my senses. I answered him that I was not asleep, and that I was in the perfect enjoyment of my mental and physical faculties. My answer made a powerful impression upon him: he thought within himself that great and wonderful is the power of Thamabat, which procures to the Rahans such an imperturbable calm of mind, which cannot be disturbed by the mightiest convulsions of nature. Now, Prince Poukatha, in whom do you think that the greatest calm of mind has prevailed?” “Most excellent Phra,” replied the prince, “the great respect I bore formerly unto the Rathee Alara has disappeared like the chaff before the wind, and run out like the water of a rapid stream. I am now like a man to whom the true road has been pointed out, who has discovered hidden things, and who has a shining light before him. You have announced to me the true law, which has dispelled the cloud of ignorance and brought happiness and calm to my hitherto disturbed soul. From this moment I believe in Buddha, the law, and the assembly, and to the end of my life I will ever remain a believer.” The Prince called a young man, and directed him to go and bring two beautiful and rich pieces of cloth having the colour of pure gold thread. When they had been brought over, the prince, holding them in his hand, said: “O most glorious Buddha, these pieces of cloth I have occasionally worn: they are in colour like gold, and the tissue is of the finest description; please to accept them as an offering I make to you.” Phra desired him to present one of the pieces to himself, and the other to Ananda, that his merits might be greater, since the offering would be made to Buddha and to the assembly in the person of Ananda. This attention in favour of Ananda was also intended to reward him for his unremitting exertions during the twenty-five years he had served Buddha with the utmost respect, care, and affection, without having received any adequate return for his services. Buddha preached afterwards the law to the prince. When the instruction was over, Poukatha believed in, and firmly adhered to, the three precious things, and became a sincere convert. He rose up, prostrated himself before Buddha, turned on the right, and departed.

Ananda, after the prince’s departure, brought the two dresses to the great Phra, who put one on his shoulders, whilst the other was girded round his waist. His body appeared shining like a flame. Ananda was exceedingly surprised. Nothing of this kind had as yet happened. “Your exterior appearance,” said he to Buddha, “is at once white, shining, and beautiful above all expression.” “What you say, O Ananda, is perfectly true. There are two occasions when my body becomes extraordinarily beautiful and shining: the first was on the night I obtained the supreme intelligence; and the second now, when I am about to enter into the state of Neibban. Doubtless, O Ananda, on the morning after this very night, in a corner, near the Koutheinaron city, that belongs to the princes Malla, in the forest of sala-trees, I will go to Neibban. The shining light emanating from my body is the certain forerunner of this great event.”

Ananda, summoned by Buddha to his presence, received the order to move to the banks of the Kakouda stream.[11] Having reached the place, Buddha descended into the stream, bathed, and drank some water. Thence he directed his steps towards a grove of mango-trees. Ananda had remained to dry the bathing-robes of his master. Phra called the Rahan Tsanda, and directed him to fold in four his dugout, because he wished to rest. The order having been complied with, Buddha sat down, lying on his right side, with the solemn and fearless appearance of a lion. During his short sleep Tsanda watched by his side. Ananda soon came up. Buddha called him, and said, “The meal which the goldsmith’s son has prepared for me, which I have eaten, is my last meal. He is, forsooth, much grieved because of the illness that has come upon me after having eaten at his place.[12] Go now to him, and make him acquainted with the merits he has gained in making an offering to me. Two meals that I have taken during this existence are equally deserving of the greatest rewards. The first was the Nogana, served up to me a little while before I obtained first the Neibban of Kiletha, or the destruction of passions, and subsequently the supreme intelligence; the second is the one just offered to me by the goldsmith’s son, when I ate the dish of rice and pork. That is the last food I will ever take until I attain the state of Neibban, that is to say, the Neibban of Khandas, or the destruction of all the supports of existence. Both these meals were excellent, and are deserving of an equal reward; viz., beauty, a long life, happiness, a large crowd of attendants, the happiness of the Nats’ seats, and all sorts of honours and distinction. Such are the merits reserved to Tsonda, the son of the goldsmith; go and mention them to him, that his sorrow may be assuaged.” Gaudama uttered on this occasion the following stanzas:[13] “Alms-deeds can defend from and protect against the influence and the sources of demerits, which are man’s true enemies. He alone who is full of merits and wisdom shuns evil doings, puts an end to concupiscence, anger, and ignorance, and reaches Neibban.” Buddha, calling Ananda, said to him, “Let us now go to the bank of the river Hignarawati, in the forest of sala-trees belonging to the Malla princes.” Attended by a crowd of Rahans, he went to the bank of the stream. The forest was on a tongue of land, encircled on three sides by the river. “Ananda,” said Buddha, “you see those two lofty trees on the skirt of the wood; go and prepare a resting-place for me between those two trees, in such a way that, when reclining thereupon, my head should be turned towards the north. The couch must be arranged in such a manner that one extremity may be near one tree, and the other extremity close to the opposite tree. Ananda, I am much fatigued, and desire to rest.” Though Buddha’s strength was equal to that of a thousand koudes of black elephants, it forsook him almost entirely from the time he had eaten the dish of Tsonda’s rice and pork. Though the distance from the place of Pawa to the forest of sala-trees in the district of Koutheinaron is but three gawots, he was compelled to rest in traversing it twenty-five times, and it was by dint of great exertions that he reached the place after sunset. Four places along the road from Pawa to Koutheinaron became subsequently celebrated by the resort of many pilgrims who visited them.

[Remarks of the Burmese Translator.—It has been often asked why Phra allowed his body to experience fatigue. The reason of his conduct was to convey instruction to all men, and to make them fully prepared to bear pain and sickness. Should any one ask why Buddha exerted himself so much to go to Neibban in that particular place, it should be answered that Buddha saw three reasons for acting in the manner he did. 1st. To preach the great Soodathana. (This is the story of a prince called Maha Soudana, who ruled over the country of Kousawatti. At the conclusion Buddha declares that in that great prince the law of mutability has acted throughout his life with an irresistible force; while, as for himself, he now delights at being emancipated from its thraldom, and longs to be freed from the prison of his body.) 2d. To instruct Thoubat and lead him to perfection. 3d. To secure that the disputes that were to arise on account of the division and possession of his relics should be quieted by the Pounha Dauna, who would fairly and peaceably effectuate the partition of those sacred remains.]

Phra, having reached the couch, lay down on his right side with the noble composure and undaunted fearlessness of a lion.[14] The left leg was lying directly on the right one; but in order to avoid pain and the accompanying trouble, the situation of the two legs was such as to prevent the immediate contact of the two ankles and knees. The forest of sala-trees lies at the south-west of the city of Koutheinaron. Should any one wish to go to the city from the forest, he must first go due east, and then turn north. The place, therefore, where Phra stood was a tongue of land, surrounded on three sides by the river.

When Buddha was reclining on the couch, the two sala-trees became suddenly loaded with fragrant blossoms, which gently dropped above and all round his person, so as almost to cover it. Not only these two trees, but all those of that forest, and also those in ten thousand worlds, exhibited the same wonderful and graceful appearance. All the fruit-trees yielded out of season the best fruits they had ever produced; their beauty and flavour exceeded all that had ever been seen. The five kinds of lilies shot forth from the bosom of the earth, and from every plant and tree; they displayed to the astonished eyes the most ravishing sight. The mighty mountain of Hymawonta, which is three thousand youdzanas in extent, shone with all the richness of the colours of the peacock’s tail. The Nats, who watched over the two ingien or sala-trees, showered down without interruption the most fragrant flowers. From the seats of Nats, the flower Mandarawan, which grows on the banks of the lake Mandawan, and glitters like the purest gold, with leaves expanding like an umbrella, was showered down by the Nats, together with powder of sandal-wood and other odoriferous plants. The Nagas and Galongs, joining the Nats, brought from their respective seats all kinds of flowers and perfumes, which they let drop like dew over and about Buddha’s sacred person. Phra, seeing the wonderful display performed by men, Nats, Nagas, and Galongs, to do him honour, and hearing the sweet accents of Nats’ voices, singing his praises, called Ananda and said to him, “You witness all that display[15] which is intended to do me honour; it is not as yet worthy of me, who possess the knowledge of the most sublime law. No one can be my true follower, or accomplish the commands of the law, by such a vain and outward homage. Every Rahan or Rahaness, every believer, man or woman, who practises the excellent works leading to perfect happiness, these are the persons that render me a true homage, and present to me a most agreeable offering. The observance of the law alone entitles to the right of belonging to my religion. Ever remember this, O Ananda, and let every believer in my religion act up to it.”

Why did Buddha, on this last occasion, lay little stress on the offerings that were made, whilst on former occasions he had much extolled the innumerable merits to be derived from the making of offerings? The reason of his conduct was to give every one to understand that religion could not subsist unless by the practice of all the duties it commands, and that it would soon disappear were it supported only by alms-deeds, offerings, and other outward ceremonies. Alms-deeds are productive of great rewards, but the practice of virtue alone secures to religion a prolonged existence.

At that time an illustrious Rahaness, named Oupalawana,[16] at a single word from Buddha, lowered her fan and went to sit at a certain distance. Ananda, who had seen this Rahaness attending assiduously on Buddha’s person during more than twenty seasons, was surprised at seeing that, without any apparent reason, she had been desired on that occasion to withdraw to a distance. Phra, reading in the soul of Ananda his innermost thoughts, said to him, “Ananda, I am not displeased with Oupalawana; but her body being of a very large size, it prevents the myriads of Nats that have come from ten thousand worlds to see and contemplate me on this supreme moment. The Nats can see through the bodies of the generality of men, but this power falls short with persons much advanced in merits. I therefore desired her to remove a little far, that the Nats might not be angry at not seeing my person.”

Ananda put a great many questions to Buddha, which are related at full length in the Parinibana Thoots.

He asked him, among other topics, how the Rahans were to behave when women should resort to their monasteries.[17] “Ananda,” answered Buddha, “a Rahan, desirous to free himself from the sting of concupiscence and keep his heart firm and steady, ought to have his door shut, and never look at the women coming to the monastery or standing at the entrance; because through the eyes concupiscence finds its way into the heart, and shakes its firmest purposes.” “But,” replied Ananda, “what is to be done when they come over to bring food to the inmates of the monastery?” “Ananda,” said Buddha, “in such a case no conversation is to take place with them. Much safer and better it would be to hold conversation with a man who, sword in hand, would threaten to cut off our head, or with a female Biloo ready to devour us the moment we open the mouth to speak. By conversing with women, one becomes acquainted with them; acquaintance begets familiarity, kindles passion, leads to the loss of virtue, and precipitates into the four states of punishment. It is, therefore, most prudent not to have any conversation with them.” “What is to be done, O Buddha, in cases when women come to the monastery to hear religious instructions, to expose their doubts, to seek for spiritual advice, to learn the practice of religious duties, and render becomingly certain services to the Rahans? Should a Rahan be silent on such occasions, they will ridicule him and say, ‘This Rahan, forsooth, is deaf or too well fed; he therefore cannot speak.’” “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “when on such occasions a Rahan is obliged to speak, let him consider as mothers those who are old enough to be mothers, as elder sisters those who appear a little older than he, as younger sisters or children those that are younger than he. Never, O Ananda, forget these instructions.”

Ananda inquired of Buddha what ceremonies were to be performed on his mortal remains after his demise. “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “do not be much concerned about what shall remain of me after my Neibban, but be rather earnest to practise the works that lead to perfection. Be not over solicitous concerning the affairs of this life, where the principle of change is ever entire; put on those inward dispositions which will enable you to reach the undisturbed rest of Neibban. There are many among the princes, rich men and pounhas who are well disposed towards me, and who will gladly perform all the usual ceremonies on my remains.” “They will,” replied Ananda, “no doubt come to me, and ask advice as to the most suitable mode of arranging everything in a becoming manner.” “Ananda,” answered Buddha, “here are the funeral ceremonies performed after the death of a Tsekiawaday king. When such a monarch is dead, they wrap his body with a new fine cloth of Kathicaritz, surround it with a thick layer of the whitest cotton, wrap it again with a second cloth of the same country, place over it another layer of cotton, and repeat the same process five hundred times. The body, thus prepared, is deposited in an open coffin, gilt outside, and rubbed inside with fragrant oil. Another coffin, also gilt, is turned over it as a covering. The pile is made of sandal and other odoriferous woods; flowers, perfumes, and scented water are profusely spread over it. The coffin having been placed on the pile, fire is set to it. Similar ceremonies shall be performed on my body after my death. On the spot where four roads meet, a dzedi is to be erected. Whoever shall come to that place and make offerings of flags, umbrellas, flowers, and perfumes, shall thereby perform an act of religion, and give a token of his respect and affection for my person.[18] He shall gain many merits; among others, a complete exemption from all troubles and disquietudes during a long period. Ananda, four sorts of persons are deserving of the honour of having dzedis erected after their death: 1. The Buddha who possesses the infinite science; 2. A semi-Buddha; 3. A Rahanda; 4. The Tsekiawaday king. He who builds a dzedi in honour of Buddha, shall, after his death, migrate to a place of rest in the seats of Nats. To him that shall build a dzedi in honour of a semi-Buddha, an inferior honour shall be awarded in a lower seat of Nats, and a similar reward shall be enjoyed by those who erect dzedis in honour of Rahandas and Tsekiawaday kings. It may be asked why the honour of a dzedi is conferred on a king who lives in the world, enjoys its pleasures, &c., whilst it is denied to a Rahan, who has renounced the world, and practised the excellent works. Formerly, in Ceylon, the dzedis erected in honour of deceased Rahans became so numerous that they threatened to cover the superficies of the whole country. It was then resolved that none should be built for Rahans, though it is acknowledged that they deserve such distinction. The same reason does not exist for a Tsekiawaday king, who is alone, and appears in the world at but distant intervals. But all the Rahans that are full of merits are deserving, after their demise, of all honours, except that of a dzedi.”

When Buddha had finished his instruction, Ananda thought within himself: Phra, the most excellent among all beings, has just taught me how to honour dzedis and other religious monuments raised to the glory of religion; he has pointed out to me the source of merits; he has indicated to me the sure way to deal with women, when they resort to our monasteries for the purpose of hearing the preaching of the law, and, finally, he has declared that there were but four sorts of persons deserving of the honour of a dzedi after their death. From the tenor of these instructions, I know with certainty that on this very day Buddha is to enter the state of Neibban. Unwilling to show his profound affliction in the presence of his illustrious master, he retired into the hall of the Malla princes close by, and leaning on the door-bolt, wept bitterly, and said, “Alas! the most excellent Buddha soon shall be no more. By what means shall I obtain the three last degrees of perfection? Who shall be my teacher? To whom shall I henceforth bring water in the morning to wash the face? Whose feet shall I have to wipe dry? For whom shall I prepare the place for sitting, and the couch for sleeping? Whose patta and tsiwaran shall I have to hold ready, and to whom shall I render the ordinary services?” In the midst of sobs and wailings, he was giving vent to his deep affliction.

It was not long ere Buddha, not observing the faithful Ananda among the Rahans, said, “My dear Rahans, where is Ananda?” Having been informed of all that was taking place, he desired a Rahan to go and call Ananda. The message having been conveyed rapidly to Ananda, he hastened to come back into the presence of Buddha, whom he saluted as usual, and then took his seat. Buddha, addressing him, said, “O Ananda, your tears and lamentations are to no purpose; do not give yourself up to disquietude; cease to shed tears. Have I not previously said to you that distance or death must separate us from the dearest objects? In the body there is a principle which causes its existence and its preservation as long as the opposite principle of destruction does not prevail. It is true you have ministered unto me for many years with all your strength and the most perfect devotedness. But you shall reap the reward due for so many good offices. Apply yourself to the exercise of Kamatan, and soon you shall be freed from the world of passions and the influence of mutability.”

Addressing then with a gentle voice all the Rahans present, Buddha began to praise Ananda, saying, “Beloved Rahans, Ananda[19] has been during many years my faithful and devoted attendant. He has served him who is worthy to receive all offerings, and is, moreover, acquainted with all the laws of the physical and moral world. Ananda is a true sage; he is well versed in all that relates to my person; he can show to the male Rahans and female Rahans, as well as to the crowds, the time, the moment, and the place to approach my person and pay the honours due to me. Ananda is graceful and full of amiability amidst all other Rahans. He has heard and seen much; he shines in the midst of the assembly. Rahans will come from a distance, on hearing all that is said of his graces, to see and admire him; and all will agree in saying that what they observe surpasses all that they had heard. Ananda will make inquiries regarding their health; they, on hearing his words, will be filled with joy. He will then keep silent, and they will retire with an increased desire to listen to him. He will say to the female Rahans that will come to see him, ‘Sisters, observe the eight precepts.’ On hearing Ananda, they will be exceedingly glad. He will then remain silent, and his silence will grieve them. The laymen and laywomen on hearing all that is said of Ananda shall come to contemplate him. He will say to them, ‘Adhere to the three precious things; observe the five great commands; keep the four days of worship of each month; pay honour and respect to your father and mother; feed the Rahans and pounhas that observe strictly the law.’ They will all be delighted at hearing his instructions. His silence will leave them earnestly wishing to hear something else from him. Beloved Rahans, Ananda much resembles a Tsekiawaday king. Like him, he is exceedingly beautiful, amiable, and lovely; he can fly through the air; he can teach the people and justly administer the law.”

When Buddha had finished his discourse, Ananda said: “O illustrious Buddha, it is not becoming your dignity that you should go to Neibban near such a small city, and in a place almost surrounded by forests. We are in the neighbourhood of the great countries of Tsampa, Thawattie, Thakila, and Baranathee. The kings, pounhas, noblemen, and people of those countries are full of love and reverence for your person. They could render greater honours to your mortal remains.” “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “do not call the country of Koutheinaron a small country. I have on former occasions often been to this place and extolled its riches and crowded population. This is the place where it is most becoming I should enter into the state of Neibban. Go now to the city and inform the Malla princes that to-morrow morning, at the break of the day, the most excellent Buddha shall go to Neibban. Let them not have reason to complain hereafter that they have not received a timely information of this event, nor say that they had not had a last opportunity to come and see me.” Ananda, putting on his dress and carrying his patta, went alone to the city. At that moment the princes were assembled in the hall to deliberate upon some important affair. As soon as the message was delivered, the princes, with their wives, their sons, and daughters, began to cry aloud, “Alas! the most excellent Buddha is too soon going to Neibban.” Some appeared with dishevelled hair; some lifted their hands to their foreheads; some, crying out and wailing, threw themselves on the ground, rolling and tossing about, as persons whose hands and feet had been cut off. They all set out in haste with Ananda at their head towards the place where Buddha was lying on his couch. All of them were admitted into the presence of Buddha and paid their respects to him.

In the city of Koutheinaron lived a certain personage holding heretical opinions.[20] His name was Thoubat, a pounha of the Oudeitsa race, who wore a white dress. His mind, hitherto uncertain and unfixed, hesitated between the belief in Buddha’s doctrines and his former opinions. Having been informed that there was a Buddha in the neighbourhood, and that he was soon to go to Neibban, he desired to see him, and, in his conversation, to clear up his doubts. His age was not great, but he enjoyed such a renown for learning that he was called the master of masters. Thoubat went at first to Ananda, stated to him that he felt irresistibly a strong attachment to, and a sincere affection for, the great Buddha, that his mind was preyed upon by doubts and uncertainties, and that he hoped a short conversation with the great Gaudama would relieve his mind from its present painful situation. Ananda, fearing that such a conversation might be much protracted, refused to admit Thoubat into the presence of Buddha, representing his extreme weakness and inability to speak much. Thoubat made several entreaties, but with no better success. Ananda persisted in his refusal to introduce him. Buddha, hearing some noise, inquired from Ananda what was the cause of the noise he heard. Ananda related to him all that had taken place between him and Thoubat. “Allow him to come,” said Buddha; “I wish to hear him. Soon he shall be enlightened and convinced. I have come to this spot for the very purpose of preaching to him the most perfect law.” Ananda returned to Thoubat, and said to him, “The most excellent Buddha desires to see you.” Thoubat, full of joy, arrived in the presence of Buddha, saluted him, and, sitting at a becoming distance, said to him, “Do the six celebrated teachers, who are always attended by a great number of disciples, who are famous amidst other doctors, know all laws? Are there some laws they are unacquainted with? or do they teach some doctrines which they but partially understand?” Buddha having gently reminded Thoubat that such questions were not suitable and unprofitable, said, “O Thoubat, I will preach to you the law; listen with attention to my words, and treasure them in your heart. No heretic has ever known the right ways that lead to perfection, and, in the religion of heretics, no one can obtain the state of Thautapan, and become a Rahanda. But in my religion there are found persons that have become Thautapan, Anagam, &c., and finally Rahandas. Except in my religion, the twelve great disciples who practise the highest virtues, and stir up the world to free it from its state of indifference, are not to be met with. They are not to be found among heretics. O Thoubat, from the age of twenty-nine years up to this moment, I have striven to obtain the supreme and perfect science, and I have spent to that end fifty-one years, following the ways of Ariahs, that lead to Neibban.” On hearing these words, Thoubat, overwhelmed with joy, endeavoured, by several similitudes, to express to his great instructor the pleasure he had derived from his preaching. “O most illustrious Buddha,” added he, “now I believe in you, and adhere to all your doctrines; I wish to become a Rahan. But it is a custom with you, not to admit to the dignity of Rahan a heretic who is newly converted, except after a four months’ probation. I wish to remain during that period as a probationer, and beg afterwards to be admitted among the Rahans.” Buddha, who knew the fervour of the new convert, desired to dispense in his case with the four months’ probation. He called Ananda and commanded him to admit Thoubat to the dignity of Rahan. Ananda forthwith led Thoubat into a becoming place, poured water over his head, whilst repeating certain forms of prayer, shaved his head and beard, put on him the tsiwaran, and taught him to repeat the formulas whereby he professed to take refuge in Buddha, the law, and the assembly. When this was done, Thoubat was conducted into the presence of Phra, who desired he should be promoted to the dignity of Patzin, and instructed in the knowledge of Kamatan. Thoubat went into the garden, walked for a while, and soon learnt the forty Kamatans. He was the last convert Buddha made, before he entered the state of Neibban.

Buddha, calling Ananda and all the Rahans, said to them: “When I shall have disappeared from the state of existence, and be no longer with you, do not believe that the Buddha has left you, and ceased to dwell among you. You have the Thoots and Abidama which I have preached to you; you have the discipline and regulations of the Wini. The law, contained in those sacred instructions, shall be your teacher after my demise. By the means of the doctrines which I have delivered to you, I will continue to remain amongst you. Do not, therefore, think or believe that the Buddha has disappeared or is no more with you.”

A little while after, Buddha, addressing the Rahans, gave them some instructions regarding the attention and respect the Rahans were to pay to each other. “As long,” said he, “as I have been with you, you have called one another by the name of Awoothau, but after my demise you will no more make use of such a title. Let those who are more advanced in dignity and in years of profession call those that are their inferiors by their names, that of their family, or some other suitable appellation; let the inferiors give to their superiors the title of Bante. Ananda, let a Rahan Hauna be visited with the punishment of Brahma.” “But what is this punishment?” replied Ananda. “The Rahan Hauna is indiscreet in his speech; he says indiscriminately all that comes into his head. Let the other Rahans avoid speaking with him, or even rebuking him. This is the punishment of Brahma.”

Addressing again all the assembled Rahans, Buddha said to them[21]: “My beloved Bickus, if among you there be one that has any doubt respecting Buddha, the law, the assembly, the ways of perfection, and the practice of virtues, let him come forward and make known his doubts, that I may clear them up.” The Rahans remained all silent. The same question was three times repeated, and three times the Rahans continued silent. Then he added: “My beloved Bickus, if you have any respect for my memory, communicate your dispositions towards my person and doctrines to the other Rahans whom you shall hereafter meet with.” The Rahans still remained silent. Ananda then said to Buddha: “O most exalted Buddha, is it not truly surprising that among so many not one should be found entertaining any doubt respecting your doctrine, but all should feel so strong an attachment to it?” “Ananda,” replied Buddha, “I knew well that doubt and false doctrine could never be harboured in the soul of a true Rahan. Supposing a number of five hundred Rahans, and taking the one who is the last in merits, he is at least a Thautapan, and as such there is no demerit in him that could lead him to one of the four states of punishment; his heart is fixed upon the first way that leads to perfection, and he constantly strives to advance to the three superior ways of perfection. No doubt, therefore, and no false doctrine can ever be found in a true Rahan.”

After a short pause, Buddha, addressing the Rahans, said: “Beloved Bickus, the principle of existence and mutability carries along with it the principle of destruction. Never forget this; let your minds be filled with this truth; to make it known to you, I have assembled you.”

These are the last words Buddha ever uttered. As a man who is about to undertake a long journey takes an affectionate farewell of every one of his relatives and friends, and fondly embraces successively all of them, Buddha likewise wished to visit for the last time the abodes wherein his soul had so amorously dwelt during his long and lofty mental peregrinations. He entered into the first state of dzan, then the second, the third, and the fourth: he ascended therefrom successively to the first, second, third, and fourth immaterial seats. When he had reached the fourth state, which is the farthest boundary of existence, Ananda asked the Rahan Anoorouda whether Phra had completed his Neibban. “Not as yet,” answered Anoorouda, “but he has reached the last stage of existence.” A little while after, Buddha had entered into the perfect state of Neibban.[22]

Thus in the first watch of the night he had preached the law to the Malla princes; at midnight he had converted the heretic Thoubat; and in the morning watch he had instructed the Rahans. It was not quite full dawn of the day when he entered the state of Neibban, in the 148th year of the Eetzana era, on the full moon of Katson, on a Tuesday, a little before daybreak.[23]

Not to leave out a single particular connected with the epochs of Gaudama’s life, the Burmese author sums up all that has already been related on this subject, by stating that he was conceived in his mother’s womb, in the year 67 of the Eetzana era, under the constellation Outtarathan, and born in 68, under the constellation Withaka, on a Friday. He went into the solitude in the year 96, on a Monday. He became a Buddha in the year 103, on a Wednesday (Withaka). In the year 148, on the full moon of Katson, on a Tuesday (Withaka), he expired; on the 12th, after the full moon of the same month, his corpse was laid on the funeral pile.

At the very moment he had yielded up the ghost, a tremendous earthquake was felt throughout the whole world; it took place with such a violence that it filled every one with fear and trembling, and caused their hair to stand on end.

CHAPTER III.

Stanzas uttered after Buddha’s death—Ananda informs the Malla princes of Buddha’s demise—Preparations for the funeral—Arrival of Kathaba at the spot where the body was exposed to public veneration—He worships the body—Wonder on that occasion—The burning of the corpse—Partition of the relics made by a pounha called Dauna—Extraordinary honours paid to the relics by King Adzatathat—Death of that king and of Kathaba.

On the occasion of the Buddha’s Neibban, the chief of Brahmas uttered the following stanzas:—“O Rahans, the great Buddha who has appeared in this world, who knew everything, who was the teacher of Nats and men, who stood without an equal, who was mighty and knew all laws and all the great principles, the most excellent and glorious Buddha, is gone to Neibban. Where is the being who shall ever escape death? All beings in this world must be divested of their terrestrial and mortal frame.”

The chief Thagia, on the same occasion, repeated aloud the following words:—“O Rahans, the principle of mutability is opposed to the principle of fixity. It carries with it the elements of creation and destruction. There is no happiness but in the state of Neibban, which puts an end to all changes.”

The great Anoorouda said in his turn: “O Rahans, the most excellent Buddha, free from all passions, has entered, by this death, into the state of Neibban. He whose soul, ever firm and unshaken, was a stranger to impatience and fear, has gone out from the whirlpool of existences, and is no longer subject to the coming into existence and to the going out therefrom. Passions have no more influence upon him. He is disengaged from the trammels of mutability, and has ended like the light of a lamp, the oil of which is exhausted.”

Ananda added: “O Rahans, when the great Buddha, full of the most transcendent excellencies, attained the state of Neibban, the earth quaked with that violence which fills the soul with fear, and causes the hair of the head to stand on an end.”

After the demise of Buddha, the Rahans that had reached the two states of Thautapan and Thakadagan, lifting to the forehead their joined hands, began to wail and loudly lament. Men threw themselves down on the ground, bitterly lamenting the loss the world had sustained. They all exclaimed, “The glorious and illustrious Buddha has too soon gone to Neibban. He who never spoke but good and instructive words, he who has been the light of the world, has gone too soon to Neibban.” In these and other words they gave utterance to their grief and affliction, with tears and lamentations. The Rahans who had reached the two last states of perfection, the Anagans and Rahandas, more calm and steady in their mind, were satisfied with repeating in solemn tones, “There is nothing fixed in the principle of mutability. Buddha, entering in the current of change, could not but die; his body was to be destroyed.” They remained meditating on this great truth, retaining an unchangeable and calm composure.

Anoorouda, assembling together all the Rahans, said to them, “Cease now to weep and lament; banish sorrow and affliction from your hearts; remember presently what the most excellent Buddha has told us, that all that exists is liable to destruction, which it can never escape. What will become of Nats and men? What will they say when they see the Rahans delivered up to grief, and giving vent to it in loud wailings?”

Ananda inquired from Anoorouda what actually took place among the Nats on the occasion of the death of the great Buddha. He was told that some of them, lifting up the joined hands to the forehead, loudly wept and lamented; but others more wise, bearing in mind what Buddha had said on the subject of the principle of mutability, remained wrapt up in a solemn and resigned composure of mind. Anoorouda spent the remainder of the night in preaching the law. He said to Ananda, “Go now to the city of Kootheinaron, say to the Malla princes that the great Buddha is gone to Neibban; that they ought to dispose everything for the funeral.” At daybreak Ananda put on his tsiwaran, and, taking his patta, went alone to the city. He met the princes assembled in the public hall, deliberating on what was to be done when Phra should have gone to Neibban. He said to them, “O princes of the Wathita race, the great Buddha has gone to Neibban; the moment is come for you to go to the spot where are his mortal remains.” When the princes heard this sad news from the mouth of Ananda, they, with their wives and children, began to wail and lament, and give all the marks of the deepest grief, unceasingly repeating, “The most excellent Buddha, who was infinitely wise and knew all laws, has too soon gone to Neibban.” The princes, now selecting one of their family, directed him to go throughout the city and collect all the richest and rarest perfumes, to keep in readiness the drums, harps, flutes, and all other musical instruments, and have them carried to the place where the remains of Buddha were lying. Having reached the spot, the princes began to make offerings of flowers and perfumes with the greatest profusion, in the midst of dancings, rejoicings, and the uninterrupted sounds of all the musical instruments. A temporary canopy was erected with the finest pieces of cloth, and they remained under it during seven consecutive days. After this lapse of time, eight of the youngest and strongest princes, having washed their heads and put on their finest and best dresses, prepared to carry the corpse to a place situated in the south of the city, where they intended to have it burned. In spite of their united efforts, they could not remove it from the place it was laid on. Anoorouda, consulted on the subject of this extraordinary and unexpected occurrence, said, “O princes, your intent does not agree with that of the Nats. You wish, after having performed all ceremonies about the corpse, to carry it to a certain place in the south of the city; but the Nats will not agree to this; they intend to accompany the corpse with music, dancings, singings, and offerings of flowers and perfumes. They desire that the corpse should be carried to the western side of the city, thence to the northern one, afterwards to re-enter through the northern gate, and go to the middle square; thence to sally forth, through the eastern one, and take the body to the place called Makula-bandan, where the Malla princes are wont to assemble for their festivals and rejoicings.” “Let it be done,” answered all the princes, “according to the wishes of the Nats.”

The funeral procession then set out.[24] The Nats in the air honoured the corpse with their music, singing, and the showering down of flowers and perfumes. Men did the same all round the corpse. The way which the procession slowly moved through was strewed with the finest and choicest flowers. When the cortège had reached the centre of the city, the widow of General Bandoola, named Mallika, hearing of the approach of the funeral procession, took a magnificent piece of cloth, called Mahalatta, which she had never worn since her husband’s death. She perfumed it with the choicest essences, and, holding it in her hands until the procession reached the front of her house, she desired the bearers to wait for a while, that she might offer to the body her beautiful piece of cloth, and extend it over it. Her request was granted. By a very happy chance, the cloth had the desired dimensions in breadth and length. Nothing could equal the magnificent sight of the body; it looked beautiful, like a statue of gold, when covered with that splendid cloth, finely worked and adorned with the richest embroidery. The cortège having reached the place Matulabandana, where the funeral pile was erected, the corpse was lowered down. The princes inquired from Ananda what was to be done to perform in a becoming manner the last rites over Buddha’s remains. Faithful to the last request of Buddha, Ananda said to them that on this occasion they were to observe the same ceremonies as were prescribed for the funerals of a Tsekiawade prince. The body was forthwith wrapt up with a fine cloth, covered with a thick layer of cotton; to which a second succeeded, and then another layer of cloth, and so on, until the same process was repeated five hundred successive times. When this was done, the corpse was placed in a golden coffin, and another of the same form and size was turned over it as a covering. A funeral pile, made with fragrant wood and sprinkled with the choicest perfumes, was prepared. Upon it the coffin was pompously deposited.

At that time, the great Kathaba, attended by five hundred Rahans, was going from the city of Pawa to the city of Kootheinaron. On their way, at noon, the heat was so excessive that the soil appeared to burn like fire under their feet. The Rahans, extremely fatigued, desired to rest during the remainder of the day, intending to enter the city of Kootheinaron during the cool of the night. Kathaba withdrew to a small distance from the road, and, having extended his dugout under the shade of a large tree, rested upon it, refreshing himself by washing his hands and feet with water poured from a vessel. The Rahans followed the example of their chief, and sat down under the trees of the forest, conversing among themselves upon the blessings and advantages of the three precious things. Whilst they were resting, a heretic Rahan appeared, coming from the city of Kootheinaron, on his way to that of Pawa, carrying in his hand a stick, at the extremity of which there was a large flower, round like a broad cupboard, forming as it were an umbrella over his head. Kathaba perceiving the man at a distance with that extraordinary flower, the Mandawara, Erithrina fulgens, thought within himself, “It is very rare ever to see such a kind of flower; it appears only through the miraculous power of some extraordinary personage and on great and rare occasions. It shot forth when my illustrious teacher entered his mother’s womb, when he was born, when he became Buddha, wrought miracles at Thawattie, and came down from the seat of Tawadeintha. Now that my great master is very old, the appearance of this flower indicates that he has gone to Neibban.” Whereupon he rose from his place, wishing to question the traveller; but he desired to do it in such a way as to show his great respect for the person of Buddha. He put on his cloak, and, with his joined hands raised over his forehead, went to the traveller and asked him whether he knew his great teacher, the most excellent Buddha. The ascetic answered that he knew him well; but that seven days ago he had reached the state of Neibban, and it was from the place where this occurrence happened that he had brought the Mandawara flower. He had scarcely said this word, when those among the Rahans who had but entered into the two first ways of perfection began to wail and loudly lament over this untimely occurrence, exhibiting every sign of the deepest grief and greatest desolation. The others that were more advanced in perfection remained calm and composed, remembering the great maxim of Buddha, that everything that has come into existence must also come to an end.

The name of this heretic was Thoubat.[25] He had been previous to his apparent conversion a hermit, leading an ascetic’s life. Subsequently he became a disciple of Gaudama, but retained in his heart an ill feeling towards his spiritual master, which revealed itself in the manner he communicated the sad news to Kathaba and his companions. Seeing them penetrated with the deepest affliction, and exhibiting in an unfeigned manner the grief which weighed on their heart, he said to them: “Why do you weep and cry? You have no reason for doing so; we are now freed from the control of the great Rahan. He was always telling us: Do this, or do not do that. In every way he annoyed and vexed us. Now every one can act as he pleases.”

The Rahan Thoubat bore envy and revenge towards Buddha for the following reason. Formerly he was a barber in the village of Atooma, where he then became a Rahan. At the time we speak of, Buddha was coming to that place, attended by twelve hundred Rahans. Thoubat wished to make an offering to Buddha and his followers and give them food. For this purpose he resorted to the following very questionable expedient for obtaining from the villagers rice and other eatables, and preparing them for the great occasion. Thoubat had two sons who wore the dress of Samane. He gave to each of them a pair of scissors, and desired them to go through the street of the village and shave the head of all the children they might meet with, as a token of their entering into religion. The order was punctually executed. The parents of the lads were then told, that on such an occasion it was customary to make considerable offerings. The offered articles, however, would be on this occasion employed for feeding the great Gaudama, who was expected in the place with a great number of disciples. All the people brought in large offerings of various articles of food, such as rice, oil, butter, and other comestibles. In this manner, by means of such an expedient, the cunning Thoubat, without any cost to himself, was able to make a great display of the choicest dishes to be laid before Gaudama and his disciples on their arrival to Atooma, and earn for himself the reputation of a very liberal and generous man. Buddha, acquainted with his conduct on the occasion, refused to accept the offering, and forbade all his followers to eat of the food prepared by Thoubat. From that time the latter ever entertained ill-feeling towards Buddha, though he did not dare openly to give vent to his passion.

Kathaba was thunderstruck at hearing such an unbecoming language[26] from the mouth of the Rahan Thoubat. He said to himself: “If at this time, when there are only seven days since Buddha entered Neibban, there are to be found people holding such a language, what will happen hereafter? These persons will soon have followers who will embrace the profession of Rahans, and then the true religion shall be totally subverted: the excellent law shall be in the hands of such persons like a heap of unstrung flowers that are scattered by the wind. The only remedy to such an impending misfortune is to assemble a council composed of all the true disciples, who, by their decisions, shall insure stability to religion, and fix the meaning of every portion of the law, contained in the Wini, the Thoots, and the Abidama. I am, as it were, bound to watch over the religion of Buddha because of the peculiar predilection he has ever shown to me. On one occasion I walked with Buddha the distance of three gawots; during that time he preached to me, and at the end of the instruction we made an exchange of our tsiwarans, and I put on his own. He said: ‘Kathaba is like the moon: three times he has obtained the inheritance of the law. His affection to my person, his zeal for my religion, have never been equalled. After my demise, it will behove him to stem the current of evil, to humble the wicked, and condemn their false teachings as subversive of the genuine doctrine. With such energetic means, my religion shall remain pure and undefiled, and its tenets shall not be lost and drowned in the midst of the raging waves of errors.’ Therefore,” said the great disciple, “I will hold an assembly of all the disciples, for the promotion and exaltation of the holy religion.” This design Kathaba kept perfectly secret, and made known to no one.

At that time, four of the ablest Malla princes, having washed their heads, and each put on a fine new dress, tried to set fire to the funeral pile, made of sandal and other odoriferous woods, and one hundred and twenty cubits high. Their efforts proving useless, all the other princes joined them, in the hope that, by their united exertions, they would be able to set fire to the pile. Fans made of palm-leaves were vigorously agitated over the heap of coals; bellows made of leather blew in the same direction; but all the efforts were of no avail. The princes, surprised and disheartened, consulted Anoorouda as to the cause of such a disappointment. Anoorouda said to them, that the Nats did not approve of their proceedings; they wished that the great Kathaba should arrive and venerate the corpse, ere it be consumed by fire. No fire could be lighted before the great Rahan had made his appearance.

The people, hearing the answer of Anoorouda, wondered at the transcendent merit of the great Kathaba, and anxiously waited for his arrival. They said to each other, “Who is this distinguished Rahan? Is he white or black, short or tall?” They took perfumes, flowers, and flags, and went out to meet him and honour him in a becoming manner.

When the great Kathaba arrived in the city of Kootheinaron, he without delay repaired to the place where the funeral pile was erected. He adjusted his clothes in the most becoming manner, and, with his hands joined to the forehead, three times turned round the pile, saying at each turn, “This is the place of the head; that is the place of the feet.” Standing then on the spot opposite to the feet, he entered into the fourth state of dzan for a while. His mind having emerged therefrom, he made the following prayer:—“I wish to see the feet of Buddha, whereupon are imprinted the marks that formerly prognosticated his future glorious destiny. May the cloth and cotton they are wrapped with be unloosened, and the coffin, as well as the pile, be laid open, and the sacred feet appear out and extend so far as to lie on my head.” He had scarcely uttered his prayer, when the whole was suddenly opened, and there came out the beautiful feet, like the full moon emerging from the bosom of a dark cloud. The whole assembly burst into loud applauses and continued cheers on seeing this matchless prodigy. Kathaba, stretching his two hands, that resembled two lilies just blooming, held both feet firmly by the heels, placed them on his head, and worshipped. All his disciples followed his example, and worshipped. Perfumes and flowers were profusely offered by the crowd. When this was done, the feet slowly withdrew into their place, the pile and coffin resumed their natural position. As the sun and the moon disappeared below the horizon, so the feet of Buddha disappeared, buried as it were, in the folds of cloth and cotton. The people, at this moment, wept and loudly wailed: their affection for Buddha was evinced on this occasion more forcibly than when he entered the state of Neibban.

The feet had hardly been concealed from the sight of the people, when, without the interference of any one, fire caught the pile, and soon set it in a blaze of flames. The skin, the flesh, the muscles, the entrails, and liver of the body were all consumed, without leaving any trace of ashes and charcoal; as butter or oil, poured on a great fire, burn and are consumed without anything remaining. Of the body all had disappeared except the relics. All the pieces of cloth that served to wrap up the body, except the outermost and innermost, were all consumed. The relics of former Buddhas, whose lives were very long, resembled a lump of gold. Our Buddha, whose life had been comparatively of a short duration, had said whilst yet alive: “During my lifetime, religion has not been sufficiently diffused; those, therefore, who, after my Neibban, shall obtain of my relics a small portion, be it but of the size of a mustard-seed, and build a dzedi to place them in, and worship and make offerings to them, shall obtain a place of happiness in one of the seats of Nats.” Among the relics were the four canine teeth, the two bones that connect the shoulders with the neck-bone, and the frontal bone. These are the seven great relics. They were in a state of perfect preservation, not at all damaged by fire, and are called Athambinana. Besides these relics there were some others of a smaller dimension, in sufficient quantity to fill up seven tsarouts. Here is the size and shape of those sacred remains: the smallest were of the size of a mustard-seed, and resembled the bud of the Hing-kow; the middle ones equalled the size of a rice-grain, divided into two parts, and looked like pearls; the largest were of the size of a pea, and appeared like gold.

When the pile was consumed by fire, water came down from the sky, as thick as the arm, which soon extinguished the fire. The Malla princes poured also upon it an immense quantity of scented water. During all the while the pile was burning, streams of flames issued from the leaves and branches of the trees, shining forth with uncommon brightness, without burning the trees; insects of every description were seen flying in swarms on those trees, without receiving the least injury.

In the place where the corpse had been exposed during seven days, the relics were deposited during the same length of time, and offerings of perfumes and flowers were incessantly made. Above them, a canopy bespangled with gold and silver stars was raised, and bouquets of flowers and perfumes were hanging therefrom. From that place to the one where the ornaments were deposited, the road was lined on both sides with fine cloth; the road itself was covered with the finest mats. Above the road was spread a splendid canopy bespangled with golden stars and flowers. The interior of the building was richly decorated; perfumes and flowers were seen hanging from the canopy. Around the building, masts were planted, and adorned with the five sorts of flags. Plantain-trees were planted on both sides of the road, and jars of cool water were laid down at a very short distance one from the other. From posts of well-polished wood were suspended lamps to be lighted day and night. The box, containing the relics, was placed on the back of a richly-caparisoned elephant, and the precious remains were honoured in every possible way by offerings of flowers and perfumes; by dancing, singing, music, rejoicings, and loud acclamations. The Malla princes, to insure the safety of the relics, had a line of elephants drawn round the place, then a second line of horses, then a third of chariots, then a fourth of warriors. Such precautions were taken both for insuring the safety of the relics, and allowing time to everybody to come and do honour to them.

At that time the courtiers of King Adzatathat,[27] knowing well the tender affection their royal master bore to Buddha’s person, were reluctant to convey to him the sad intelligence of his demise, for fear of causing in him too great an affliction. They took every possible precaution, and devised various means for preparing the king’s mind to bear with composure the loss he had sustained. As soon as the monarch understood what the courtiers intended to say, he fainted three times in succession. Each time steam baths and an abundant pouring of water over the head restored him to consciousness. When he became sensible, he wailed and lamented for a long time. Recovering from the shock of his deep affliction, he desired to assuage the grief caused by Buddha’s death by procuring some of his relics. For that purpose a messenger was despatched to the Malla princes with the following request: “You are the descendants of the great Thamadat; I too, who rule over the Magatha country, boast of the same noble origin. For this reason, I put forward my claim for obtaining the possession of some of Buddha’s relics, which are now his representatives. I will give directions for the erection of a beautiful and tall dzedi wherein they shall be deposited. I and my people shall have thus an object of worship.” The princes of Wethalie and of the neighbouring states sent a similar request. Those of Kapilawot and Alekapa followed their example. The kings of Rama and Pawa, the pounhas of Withadipa also sent in their reclamations, with a threat of having recourse to the force of arms, if their demands should be disregarded. They soon followed their messengers at the head of their troops.

The Malla princes, on receiving those messages, consulted among themselves as to what was to be done. They agreed that, the relics of Buddha being the most valuable possessions in the world, they would not part with them. Many angry words were exchanged among contending parties. They were almost ready to draw the sword when a celebrated pounha, named Dauna, made his appearance. He stood on an elevated spot, and making a sign with his hand, began to speak in a language calculated to soothe the irritation of the parties. Great was his influence over all, since there was scarcely a man in the island of Dzampoudipa who did not acknowledge Dauna as his teacher. “O kings and princes,” said he, “hear one word that I have to say to you. Our most excellent Buddha always extolled the virtue of forbearance; but you are ready to fight for the possession of his relics. This is not good. Let all of you be now of one mind, with cheerful dispositions. I will divide the relics into eight equal portions. Let every one be ever solicitous to multiply in all directions dzedis in honour of him, who was possessed of the five visions, that many may feel affection for the most excellent one.” Dauna went on explaining more fully the two stanzas he had recited, saying: “O kings and princes, our most excellent Buddha, previous to his obtaining the Buddhaship, whilst he was even an animal, still more a man and a Nat, practised the virtue of patience; he always recommended it in all his subsequent preachings. How could you have recourse to open violence, to warlike weapons, for his relics? You are kings of eight countries; come to a quiet and peaceable arrangement on this subject; speak to each other words of peace and good-will. I will have the relics divided into eight equal parts. You are all equally worthy to receive your share.”

The kings, on hearing the words of Dauna, came to the place where he stood, and entreated him to make eight equal portions of the relics. Dauna assented to their request. They went with him to the place of the relics. The golden coffin that contained them was opened, and there appeared to their regards all the relics beautiful like gold. The princes seeing them said: “We have seen the most excellent Buddha gifted with the six glories, and all the bodily qualifications of the most accomplished person: who could believe that these are the only things that remain of him?” They all wept and lamented. Whilst they were overwhelmed with grief, Dauna abstracted one of the canine teeth and concealed it in the folds of his turban. All the relics were duly apportioned to all the kings. A Thagia, who had seen the doing of Dauna, took adroitly the tooth, and without being perceived carried it into the Nats’ seats, and placed it in the Dzoolamani dzedi. When the partition was over, Dauna was surprised not to find the tooth he had stolen: he did not, however, dare to complain, as his pious fraud would have been discovered. To console himself for such a loss, he asked for the possession of the golden vessel wherein the relics had been kept. His demand was favourably received, and the golden vessel was given to him.

The Maurya princes, who ruled over the country of Pipilawana, hearing what had been done by Adzatathat and other kings, went also with a great retinue to the city of Kootheinaron. The Malla princes informed them that the relics had already been divided, and that there remained nothing but the coals of the funeral pile. They took them away, built a large pagoda over them, and worshipped. The places where the relics were deposited are Radzagio, Kootheinaron, Wethalie, Kapilawot, Allakapata, Rama, Pawa, and Witadipakka.

King Adzatathat ordered a beautiful and well-levelled road, eight oothabas broad, to be made from the city of Kootheinaron to that of Radzagio. The distance is twenty-five youdzanas. He wished to adorn it, in all its length, in the same manner as the Malla princes had done the road leading from the place where the cremation of the corpse had taken place to that where the relics had been deposited. At fixed and proper distances houses were built for resting and spending the night. The king, attended by a countless crowd of people, went to take the relics and carry them into his country. During the journey, singing, dancing, and playing of musical instruments were uninterrupted. Offerings of perfumes and flowers were incessantly made by the people. At certain intervals they stopped during seven days, when fresh honours were paid to the relics in the midst of the greatest rejoicings. In this manner seven months and seven days were employed in going over the distance between the two countries. At Radzagio the relics were deposited in a place prepared for that purpose, and a dzedi was erected over them. The seven other kings built also dzedis over the relics they had obtained. Dauna built one, too, over the golden vessel, and the Maurya princes erected likewise one religious monument over the coals. Thus there were at that time ten dzedis, situated respectively in Radzagio, Kootheinaron, Wethalie, Kapilawot, Allakapata, Witadipaka, Rama, Pawa, the Dauna village, and Papilawana. The partition of the relics happened on the fifth of the waxing moon of Nayon (June). There were altogether eight tsarouts of relics; that is to say, a basketful. Each prince had one tsarout; that is to say, two pyis. The upper right canine tooth was taken to the Nats’ seats; the lower right tooth was carried to the Gandala country; the upper left tooth was removed to Kalingga, and the lower left tooth to the Naga seat. The other teeth and hairs of the head and body were distributed by the Nats in a great number of other worlds.

When the funeral ceremonies were completed, and the distribution of the relics effected in a manner satisfactory to all parties, Kathaba, who was the acknowledged head of the assembly, advised King Adzatathat to do away with the Eetzana era, and establish a new one, that would be called the era of religion, beginning with the year of Buddha’s Neibban, that is to say, on the year 148 of the Eetzana era. The king joyfully assented to the pious request of the Buddhist patriarch, and was exceedingly rejoiced to have this opportunity of affording a fresh token of the great esteem he had for Buddha’s person.

Many years afterwards, the great Kathaba entertained some fear in his mind respecting the safety of the relics, distributed over eight distinct places, viz., Kootheinaron, Radzagio, Kappila, Allakabat, Watadipaka, Rama, Pawa, and Wethalie.[28] He wished to have them all put together in a safe and secure place, where they could be preserved until better circumstances would afford an opportunity to bring them forth, and expose them to the respect and veneration of the true believers all over the Dzampoudipa island. For this purpose, in the year of religion 20, he went to King Adzatathat and said to him that precautions were to be taken for securing the preservation of the relics. The king asked him by what means all the relics could be had from those who now possessed them. Kathaba replied that he would know how to manage such a delicate affair. He went to the seven kings, who gave to him all the principal relics, keeping beside themselves only what was strictly necessary to be deemed an object of worship and good-will towards Buddha’s person. One exception was made in favour of the relics deposited in the village of Rama, because they were in future times to be carried to Ceylon and placed in the great wihara or pagoda. All the relics having been brought to Radzagio, Kathaba took with him those pious articles, and went out of the city. He directed his steps in a south-eastern direction, loaded with this precious burden, which he carried all the way. Having reached a certain spot, he made the following prayer:—“May all the rocks and stones of this place disappear, and there be, in place thereof, a fine sandy soil; may water never issue from this spot.” Adzatathat ordered the soil to be dug very deep. With the earth bricks were made, and eight dzedis were built. This was done for the express purpose of preventing people suspecting the real object that both Kathaba and the king had in view. The depth of the hole was eighty cubits. Its bottom was lined with iron bars. To that bottom was lowered a chapel monastery made of brass, similar in shape and proportions to the great wihara of Ceylon. Six gold boxes containing the precious relics were placed in this chapel monastery. Each box was enclosed in one of silver, the latter in one adorned with precious stones, and so on, until eight boxes were placed one within the other. There were also arranged 550 statues, representing Buddha in 550 preceding existences described in the sacred writings, the statues of the eighty great disciples, with those of Thoodaudana and Maia. There also were arranged 500 lamps of gold and 500 lamps of silver, filled with the most fragrant oil, with wicks made of the richest cloth. The great Kathaba, taking a leaf of gold, wrote upon it the following words:—“In aftertimes a young man, named Piadatha, shall ascend the throne, and become a great and renowned monarch under the name of Athoka. Through him the relics shall be spread all over the island of Dzampoodipa.” King Adzatathat made new offerings of flowers and perfumes. All the doors of the monastery were shut, and fastened with an iron bolt. Near the last door he placed a large ruby, upon which the following words were written: “Let the poor king who shall find this ruby present it to the relics.” A Thagia ordered a Nat to watch over the precious deposit. The Nat disposed around it the most hideous and terrifying figures, armed with swords. The whole was encompassed by six walls made of stone and brick; a large slab of stone covered the upper part, and upon it he built a small dzedi.

Five years afterwards, that is to say, in the twenty-fifth year of the religious era,[29] King Adzatathat died; and, likewise, all those that had been present on this occasion disappeared one after the other from the scene of this world. A small dzedi indicated the place where the sacred relics had been religiously deposited. But in due course of time, the place, being no longer heeded by the people, soon became overgrown with bushes, which screened from sight the modest monument itself. The relics remained buried in that manner in the bosom of the earth, until after a long period of time there was to appear at last a mighty ruler, full of zeal for the promotion of religion, who would be worthy to render a becoming honour to the relics, and to distribute them throughout the length and breadth of the island of Dzampoodipa. This great event shall be narrated in a following chapter.

CHAPTER IV.

After Buddha’s death, zeal of Kathaba in upholding genuine doctrines—He selects five hundred elders to become members of a council or assembly—Radzagio is fixed upon for the holding of the council—He repairs thither with a portion of the appointed members—Behaviour of the amiable Ananda previous to his departure for Radzagio—King Adzatathat supports Kathaba in his views—The hall for holding the council is prepared by his orders—Ananda is qualified in a miraculous manner for sitting as a member of the council—Holding of the council under the presidency of Kathaba—Establishment of the religious era—Destruction of Wethalie by Adzatathat—The successors of that prince—In the days of King Kalathoka a second council is held at Pataliputra, under the presidency of Ratha—Causes that provoked the holding of a second assembly.

Having completed the narrative of all that relates to the relics, we have to trace back our steps, and give an account of the development and spread of Buddhism into various countries.

After the cremation of Buddha’s mortal remains and the distribution of the relics, peaceably managed by the Pounha Dauna, Kathaba, on account of the high esteem Buddha ever had for him—esteem which he had manifested in a striking manner when he invested him with his one robe—considered himself as having been thereby especially appointed to provide effectual means for placing the law on an unshaken foundation. As a monarch before his death appoints his son to succeed him, to wield the supreme power and keep it in his family, in a like manner Buddha had appointed his eldest spiritual son to take his place. Being, therefore, the acknowledged head of the assembly, he had but one object in view, the maintenance of the doctrines and institutions of his great master in their original purity, and the establishment of religion on a firm basis. When on his way from the town of Pawa to that of Kootheinaron, to be present at the funeral of Buddha, he had met with a Rahan, who had given him particulars respecting the last moments and death of Gaudama, and at the same time had dared to express feelings of satisfaction on that mournful occasion in the following manner: “Now that our master has gone to Neibban, he will be no longer amongst us, to tell us, ‘You must do this, you have to shun that; such a regulation ought to be observed; such a duty is to be performed.’ We shall hear no longer the reproaches he was wont to address to us. At present we are at liberty to do what we like, and to follow our own inclinations.” Such unbecoming, nay, impious language, stung to the quick the ardent soul of the venerable Kathaba. From that moment he was daily engaged in revolving in his mind, and examining within himself, what would be the best course to be entered upon, in order to keep intact the doctrines he had heard from the mouth of Buddha himself, and establish upon a firm basis the religious institutions he so much valued. “As soon,” said he within himself, “as the funeral of the most excellent Phra shall have been performed with a becoming solemnity, I shall congregate together the most zealous and learned members of the assembly, and, with their united efforts and energy, I will oppose the spreading of false doctrines, which obscure the true ones. I will put down the newly-invented erroneous disciplinary regulations, by setting in a strong light the genuine ones. To prevent, in future, the re-occurrence of similar evils so detrimental to religion, all the preachings of Buddha as well as the disciplinary rules shall be arranged under several heads, and committed to writing. The books containing the above shall be held up as sacred.”[30]

Agreeably to the plan he had fixed upon twenty days after Buddha’s demise, the great Kathaba, profiting by the circumstance that had brought together so many Rahans from all parts to the town of Kootheinaron, communicated his views to all the Rahans congregated in that place. Having received from all his brethren a suitable encouragement, Kathaba selected from among them four hundred and ninety-nine of the most learned. They were all Rahandas, that is to say, they had all reached the last degree of perfection, with the exception of Ananda, who was but a Thautapan, and, therefore, had only entered into the current that was to drift him to perfection.

It may be asked why Ananda was selected as a member of the future council, since, in point of spiritual attainments, he was very inferior to all his brethren upon whom Kathaba’s selection had fallen. Let it not be believed that he owed this distinction to his royal extraction, or to his being first cousin to Buddha and the friend of Kathaba, or to the venerable appearance which grey hairs imparted to his person. His brethren were full of love and esteem for him. They had the greatest regard for all that he said, because, having always attended on Buddha’s person during twenty-five years, lived with him in the greatest intimacy, and followed him as the shadow does the body, he was perfectly conversant with the doctrines of Gaudama, which he had heard expounded on all occasions and to all sorts of people. All the religious were unanimous in declaring him worthy to be associated with those who were to compose the synod. Kathaba was delighted at such an opinion, which agreed so well with his own.

Kathaba examined afterwards what was the most befitting place for holding the council. Having reviewed successively the various cities situated in the neighbourhood of Kootheinaron, he was pleased with none of them. Radzagio appeared to him in every respect the best place that could be selected. The city and its suburbs were very populous; the people lived in affluent circumstances; alms could easily be procured even for a large assembly during any period of time; monasteries about the city were both numerous and of great extent. All these advantages combined together induced Kathaba to give the preference to that city. To this his brethren unanimously assented.

When these preliminaries had been settled, Kathaba, on the fifth of the waxing moon of Nayon, spoke as follows to the members of the future council: “Brethren, you have before you forty days to prepare yourselves, and dispose everything to hold yourselves ready for beginning the great and important affair for which we have to assemble at Radzagio. Let none of you bring forward any pretext for postponing his going to the place that has been fixed upon, such as sickness, or the consideration of parents, friends, relatives, or even teacher. Every one of us must be prepared to forsake everything to promote the great object we have in view, the exaltation of religion.”

When he had spoken in this manner he took with himself two hundred and fifty religious, and shaped his course in the direction of Radzagio. Some while afterwards Anoorouda, attended by nearly a similar number of brethren, went to the same place by following another road. The venerable pounha remained in Kootheinaron with seven hundred brethren. The other religious, not designated by Kathaba, withdrew into various other localities.

Whilst these things were taking place, the ever kind-hearted and affectionate Ananda availed himself of a portion of the forty days allowed by Kathaba to proceed to Radzagio, to give full scope to the feelings of love he entertained for the person of Buddha. He employed a part of that time in revisiting the various places that had been the favourite resorts of his beloved departed master, the Dzetawon monastery in particular. Full of love for the memory of Buddha, he was seen entering into the monasteries where he was wont to serve him daily with a most affectionate regard, his eyes bathed in tears, and doing, out of respect for him, the same humble but devoted services. He swept the room, made the bed, brought the water in the same way as if Buddha had been present. With a low tone of voice, often interrupted by sobs, he was heard repeating, with the accent of a deep sadness, tempered by love, “This is the place where the most excellent Phra sat down; this is the bed upon which he slept; this is the verandah through which he paced to and fro; this is the place where he bathed;” and on each spot he stood awhile and shed abundant tears. At such a sight the people felt their love towards Buddha’s person increasing tenfold. They accompanied his loving disciple, joined him in his pious offices, and with him wept as bitterly, in remembering the person of the great teacher, his manners and his preachings, as they did when they heard of his death. Having performed all these pious duties, Ananda left that place, and hastened to the city of Radzagio.

When all the religious had congregated, the occupants of the eighteen monasteries that were spread in the neighbourhood of Radzagio had to leave them, and make them over to the new-comers. All the five hundred religious spent the festival day of the full moon of Watso together with the occupants of those places. After the performance of the usual devotions they were left alone in the undisturbed possession of the above-named monasteries. But the buildings were found in such a bad order that they required important and immediate repairs. Moreover, they were in a state of unbearable uncleanness, and it was deemed necessary to have them well rubbed and washed. The cause of this disordered state was this: when the occupants of those places heard of the approaching death of their great teacher, they had hastened to Kootheinaron, and there was no one left to take care of the dwellings and keep them in good order. To have the evil remedied, Kathaba, accompanied by a large retinue of his most remarkable brethren, went on the second day after the full moon of Watso to the palace of King Adzatathat, who received him with every mark of respect, and immediately inquired about the object of his visit. Kathaba explained to the monarch the purpose of his coming to Radzagio with five hundred of the most distinguished religious. “I desire,” said he, “to confute error and to proclaim truth. My greatest wish is to promote the sacred cause of our holy religion. For that purpose I have, with the concurrence of all my brethren, resolved to hold a synod composed of the principal members of the assembly. We ask from you, O King, the favour of causing the eighteen monasteries of Radzagio to be repaired for our dwelling, and also to give orders for the erection of a spacious hall, which shall be the place of our meetings for discussing various subjects relating to religion.”

Adzatathat joyfully assented to the proposal and demands of the Buddhist patriarch. He gave full liberty for the holding of the council, saying, “My power and that of the law are now at your command.” He gave immediate orders for putting in perfect order the dwelling-place of the Rahans. On the southern face of Mount Webhara there was a cave which had been a favourite place of resort with Buddha during the seasons that he spent at Radzagio in the Weloowon or bamboo-grove monastery. That spot was fixed upon as the fittest for the holding of the assembly. Adzatathat summoned to his presence the most skilful workmen, and commanded them to exert all their skill and talents in erecting a hall worthy of the assembly that was to meet within its precincts. The ground was first encircled with a fence. A fine flight of steps, made with the utmost care, led from the bottom of the hill to the spot where was built the magnificent hall, decorated with a profusion of the choicest ornaments, and surpassing in beauty and elaborate work the stately dwellings of princes. Five hundred mats for the accommodation of the religious were disposed in the south of the hall. The seat of the president was placed opposite, in the northern part. In the centre, but facing the east, a seat resembling a pulpit was raised; upon it was laid a beautiful fan, made of ivory. When the work was finished, Adzatathat informed Kathaba that the work was completed, and the hall ready for the projected meetings.

It was on the full moon of the Wakhaong (August) that the first conference was to take place and the council to be opened. On the day previous some Rahans made a remark on the circumstance of Ananda being allowed to become a member of the council, though he was but a Thautapan, and had still to ascend the three other steps of Thakadagan, Anagan, and Rahanda before he became an Arahat. This remark, made with very little moderation, greatly affected and grieved the tender heart of Ananda. No time was to be lost; he knew that on the following day the council would be opened, and he could scarcely hope to be tolerated as an exception in the midst of his brethren. He withdrew to a quiet and retired place, and resolved to do his utmost to obtain that which he felt he was in need of. He began to meditate with much attention; but the desired object of his wishes was as yet far from him. He thought of Buddha. Whilst he was continuing his mental labour until midnight, he heard a voice telling him to apply himself to the labour of a higher order, to Kamatan. This was a flash of light that illuminated his mind. The exercise lasted until a little before daybreak. At that time Ananda left the walking place, and went to his room to take a little rest. He sat on his bed. Between the short time that it took to raise his feet from the ground and lay the head over the pillow, Ananda was delivered from the bands that keep a being in the whirlpool of existences, and he became a Rahanda.

On the fifth of the waxing moon of Wakhaong the 499 venerable members, attired in their cloaks and carrying the mendicants’ pots, assembled in the hall at the entrance of the Webhara cave. Each member occupied his own place; Ananda’s alone was without its occupant. On a sudden, by the power of the virtue now inherent in his person, Ananda appeared among his brethren. The appearance of his face resembled a ripe palm fruit. It was beautiful as the moon at its full emerging from the bosom of a cloud; as a newly polished precious stone on a piece of fine cloth; as the water-lily blooming in the rays of the morning sun. It reflected the inward perfection which had just been communicated to him, and exhibited it in unmistakable signs to the assembled religious.

Every arrangement being completed, and the members occupying in silence their respective seats, Kathaba three times praised Buddha. He then asked the fathers of the assembly which of the three parts—the instructions, the discipline, or the metaphysics—deserved the priority in the discussions that were to begin. They answered that the discipline, being the soul and ornament of religion, deserved the preference. He asked them to appoint him whom they thought the fittest to occupy the pulpit. They were unanimous in selecting Oopali, though Ananda was worthy of such a distinction. The reason of the selection is the following: On one occasion Buddha had openly declared that among all the religious, or the members of the assembly, Oopali was the most fervent in observing the regulations of the Wini. Then Kathaba said, “Brethren, since you have given the preference to the venerable Oopali, let him have it.” The venerable Oopali said in his turn, “Brethren, hearken to my words: having been selected by the assembly to answer all the questions relating to the Wini, I accept the honourable task thus imposed upon me.” When he had spoken he rose from his place, threw a part of his cloak upon one shoulder, bowed to the members of the assembly, went to the pulpit, sat down, and held the ivory fan in his hand.

Kathaba, from his own seat, addressed Oopali, and said, “Venerable Oopali, in what place has the most excellent Phra enacted the commandment respecting the first of the four sins, called Paradzika?” Oopali answered, “In the country of Wethalie.” “To whom was allusion made when this commandment was published?” “Allusion was made to Thoudein, the son of Tananda Pounha.” “What was the cause of such an enactment?” “The sin of fornication he had committed.” The president, addressing the assembled fathers, said, “Brethren, you have all heard what regards the circumstances connected with the first Paradzika. Let this article be noted down, and its admission and sanction be proclaimed aloud.” It was done so. All the members accepted it. At that moment an earthquake was felt. The same method was observed as regards the three other Paradzika. They were unanimously accepted by the members of the assembly. Oopali was successively questioned by the president upon the other regulations of the Wini, viz., the 13 Thingaditheit, the 2 Donay-a-niga, the 30 Niseggi Padzeit, the 92 Padzeit, the 4 Walidathani, the 75 Theikkabot, which are named Adikarana-thama; in all, 227 regulations. Moreover, there were added the 80 (Banawara) Khandaca and the 25 Parawira. These several divisions form the collection called Wini Pitagat. When the final sanction had been given to all those points a mighty earthquake was felt a second time. The venerable Oopali laid down the ivory fan, rose up, came down from the pulpit, reverentially saluted all the brethren, and returned to his own seat.

The president, addressing the company, said, “Brethren, hearken to my words. If it be your good pleasure, we shall discuss at present the thoots or the instructions orally delivered unto us by our most excellent master. Whom shall we appoint to answer the questions I shall put him on this subject?” They unanimously elected Ananda, who, having always and on all occasions accompanied Buddha, was better acquainted with his preachings than any other religious. Then the president added, “Brethren, if it be agreeable to you, I will duly question the venerable Ananda.” The latter likewise said, “Brethren, hearken to my words. Since it is acceptable to you, I will answer all the questions on the thoots which our venerable president shall put to me.” Then he rose from his seat, arranged his cloak on one of his shoulders, respectfully bowed to the assembly, and, ascending the steps of the pulpit, he sat down, and held in his hand the ivory fan.

The president, addressing the assembly, said, “Brethren, in the thoots there are several parts or divisions. There is the division called Thingiti, which has also subdivisions. Which shall I fix upon to begin our session?” They answered, “Let us begin with the Diga-thingiti, which contains thirty-five thoots, and out of this the Silakhanda which includes thirteen sermons or thoots.” It was on the first, called Bhramadzala, that the questions were put. The president put the following questions to the venerable Ananda: “In what place was the Bhramadzala thoot preached?” He answered, “In the Mingoon hall, situated in the middle of a grove of mango-trees half-way between Radzagio and the village of Nalanda.” “To whom was allusion made?” “To Thouppya, a holder of false doctrines, and to a young man named Bramada.” “For what reason was such allusion made?” “Because both had been ungrateful to Buddha.” Similar questions were put for each thoot of this division, and suitable answers were given in a like manner. The same mode of proceeding was observed for each sermon or thoot of the following divisions. When all the explanations had been given by the speaker, all the assembled brethren, with a perfect unanimity, assented to all that had been said.

When the work on the thoots was completed, the whole collection was called the Pitagat Thoots. Ananda rose from the pulpit, placed the ivory fan upon the table, respectfully bowed to the assembly, and returned to his own place.

The president, addressing again the assembly, requested them to designate him who, in their opinion, appeared to be best fitted for answering all questions on the third part of the sacred scriptures, the Abidama. They unanimously selected the venerable Anooroudha. When the choice had been fixed upon and agreed to, Anooroudha accepted the honour conferred on him, rose from his seat and saluted his brethren. He then gravely ascended the pulpit, sat down, and held the ivory fan in his hand.

The president questioned him on the seven divisions of the Abidama, following the same order he had observed previously in treating of the two first parts called Pitagat. The occupant of the pulpit having returned due answers, and the assembly having testified their approbation in a unanimous manner, the council was brought to a close. It had lasted seven months, from the full moon of Wakhaong to the full moon of Tabaong.[31]

The first council is called Pitzasatika Sangarana, because it was composed of five hundred religious. It is also named Terika-sangarana, because it was composed of religious of the first order. The soul of Kathaba, at the happy conclusion of this important undertaking, overflowed with the purest joy. He felt that with such a work the religious institutions rested on a strong basis, and would last the whole period of 5000 years assigned to the duration of religion by Gaudama himself.

It was at the conclusion of the council that King Adzatathat, with the concurrence of the Buddhist patriarch, did away with the Eetzana era, and substituted the religious era beginning in the year 148 of the said era; that is to say, on the year of Gaudama’s death, on a Monday, the first of the waxing moon of Tabaong.

Here is inserted, as a genealogical link, the names of the kings who reigned at Pataliputra, from Adzatathat to Kalathoka, under whose reign the second council was held.

Agreeably to the prediction of Gaudama respecting the calamities that were to befall Wethalie on the third year of the religious era, Adzatathat, having contrived to sow, through the instrumentality of a famous pounha, the seed of dissension among the princes of that city, flung himself on a sudden with a large force on the devoted city, possessed himself of it, and totally destroyed it. On his return to his own territories, the conqueror carried away as captives three hundred of the princes and nobles of the conquered state. His reign lasted altogether thirty-five years. He died in the year 25 of the religious era. He was slain by his own son Oudaia-badda, who succeeded him and reigned until the year 40. He was in his turn murdered by his son Anoorouda, who also fell after a short reign by the hand of his son and successor, Manta. This prince reigned until the year 49. He met with a similar tragical end. His son Nagata-saka killed him and ascended the throne. He reigned until the year 53. The people of Pataliputra, justly shocked at the horrible and barbarous murders which incessantly sullied the very steps of the throne, revolted against the race of these bloody princes, and put an end to the line of kings who are aptly called the parricide kings.

Among the three hundred princes and nobles whom Adzatathat had brought over from Wethalie, one of them had a daughter remarkable for the attractions of her person and the accomplishments of her mind. She was by the order of the king raised to the position of a courtezan in Radzagio. Whilst engaged in that course she had a male child, whom, with unnatural feelings, she ordered to be thrown during the night into the midst of bushes, outside the city. A Naga guardian of the place watched over the infant and carefully protected him. On the following morning, the king, happening to pass by, heard the sound thoo-thoo many times repeated. It was the Naga who made this noise in order to attract his attention. The king having sent one of his officers to the spot the sound was coming from, was informed that an infant still alive was lying there under the guard of a Naga. Moved with compassion, he ordered the child to be forwarded to his palace and had him carefully brought up. On account of the sound thoo-thoo which had been heard, and of the Naga that had been met on the spot, the child was named Thoo-thoo-naga. He grew up and became an accomplished prince. The people, who had rid themselves of the line of parricide kings, unanimously proclaimed him king in 63.

That monarch, not unmindful of his mother’s origin, re-established the city of Wethalie, and fixed in it the royal residence. From that time Radzagio lost her rank of royal city, which she never after recovered. He died in 81, and was succeeded by his son Kalathoka, who, as we shall see subsequently, had a long reign of twenty-eight years.

We must show now how there has ever been a regular and uninterrupted succession of eminent doctors, who have successively communicated to each other the genuine doctrine, from Buddha down to the time of the third council, that is to say, during more than two hundred years. The venerable Oopali had learned the Wini at the feet of Buddha himself, and had for his chief pupil the venerable Dantaka, who in his turn became the teacher of the venerable Thaunaka. The latter was the instructor of the venerable Seiggiwa, who also brought up in the knowledge of the true doctrine the venerable and renowned Mauggalipatta. Dantaka belonged, by birth, to the pounha race of Wethalie. Having become a patzin, he attained to so great a proficiency in the religious science, that Oopali appointed him the instructor of a thousand religious in the three Pitagats. Thaunaka was the son of a rich merchant. He became a convert to Buddhism, and entered as a religious at Radzagio. His remarkable mental attainments induced his superior to give him the charge of initiating others into the knowledge of the sacred doctrines. Seiggiwa was the son of a nobleman of Pataliputra. On a certain day he went with many companions into the monastery of Thaunaka, and found him in a state of trance. The young visitor wondered at what he saw. From admiration he passed to respect and love, and wished to become a disciple under him. He succeeded so well in his studies that he merited to become the master of the most celebrated of all, Mauggalipatta. Previous to his present existence, the latter was in one of the seats of Brahmas. He was incarnated in the womb of a pounha woman. When he was born, he grew up and showed a decided inclination to become a Buddhist, and tread in the footsteps of Gaudama. It was in 163 that the future president of the third council became a patzin.

In the 20th year of the reign of Kalathoka, in the year 100, there happened a sort of schism amongst the Rahans of Wethalie. Those of the Weitzi district, little regarding the positive injunctions of the Wini, indulged in certain practices openly at variance with them. This occasioned strong remonstrance on the part of the Rahans living in the western district, called Pawera. The dispute among the religious was soon noised abroad and caused some scandal. It was the following incident which revealed all the peril.

The venerable Ratha was then living in the monastery, situated in the Mahawon, in the district of Wethalie. Chancing to travel through the Weitzi district, he heard that on festival days the Rahans were wont to place near the entrance of their monasteries certain vessels half full of water, and advised the people to put therein, each of them, a piece of silver, saying that the produce would be employed in purchasing dresses and the other utensils required by the Rahans. They also allowed as lawful the use of spirits, and were not very particular respecting the observance of the law of celibacy. Ratha was greatly scandalised at all that he saw. He boldly told the people that it was not good to make offerings of money, because it was unlawful for religious to possess any. He made similar observations respecting the other trespassings.

On the following festival day no money was offered. The Rahans were much incensed at such a neglect. Ratha said to the people: “Laymen, because of such irregularities, the beauty of the days of worship is fading, the glory of religion is darkened. Buddha in his days forbade the offering of money, the use of liquors, and several other practices which are now introduced in this place. By the innovators I am held up as a reviler of the Rahans, and as one deficient in benevolence towards you. I, as well as the Rahans of the royal race, attend only to the prescriptions of the Wini, such as they have been laid down and published by Buddha.” The people replied to him: “Venerable Ratha, you are a true Rahan, and you follow the right way. Pray stay with us and be our teacher; we will abundantly supply you with the necessaries of life.” Ratha, going on his way, was always followed by the people, who, in token of their respect and love, accompanied him to the Kootagara monastery, in the midst of the forest of sala trees.

The guilty Rahans, hearing of all that had been said and fearing the paramount influence of the venerable Ratha over the people, said to them: “We shall not join with the Rahans of the royal race. We shall hold no intercourse with them. We shall expel Ratha from this district.” With these dispositions they encouraged each other in the determination to offer a most decided opposition and maintain their newly invented practices.

On his side, the venerable Ratha, anxious for the safety of the genuine practices, and zealous for the exaltation of religion, hastened to Kothambi to warn the religious of that and the neighbouring districts against the evil practices of the Weitzi Rahans. To those whom he could not meet in person he sent letters and messengers to say to them: “Brethren, before the evil-doers succeed in their iniquitous efforts to subvert religion, and render doubtful and uncertain the genuine regulations of the Wini, ere they have time to set up false tenets, let us assemble, and with our united efforts give strength and confidence to the good and righteous, and crush the wicked and the impious.”

At that time there lived on a mountain, in the Upper Ganges, a celebrated religious, named Samputa-kami. He was 120 years old, and had been a disciple of Ananda. To him the zealous Ratha applied in order to have the questions at issue with the Weitzi Rahans finally settled. He minutely explained to him the ten points of discipline on which they were at variance with the Wini. Samputa-kami fully agreed with the proposal, and was of opinion that there should be held a general assembly, in which the points in dispute should be examined and the schism put an end to.

Some religious, about sixty in number, appeared to have a leaning towards the schismatical party. They resolved to go to Thaurya, where lived the celebrated Rewati, whose extraordinary wisdom equalled the quickness and flash of the lightning. The venerable Rewati, hearing of their wicked design, would not, in his abhorrence for their opinions, meet them on any account. He left his own place, and went from Thaurya to the town of Sankasa. When he had heard that they were following him, and were already close to the place he lived in, he removed to Kaiinna-goutra, then to Oudampara, subsequently to Eggalamoura and to Tharaudzati.

At the same time, it happened that Ratha, with the venerable Tsamputa, wished to go and have a meeting with Rewati, in order to place him on his guard and to bring him over to their party. They met him at Tharaudzati in the evening, and during the whole night made him acquainted with all the doings of the Weitzi Rahans, and begged him to declare openly which of the two parties was in the right. Rewati at once pronounced in favour of the Pawera Rahans, and condemned the opposite party on each of the ten points in dispute, and looked upon them as innovators and schismatics.

During that time the schismatic Rahans were not idle. They wished also to draw Rewati to their party. Having ascertained that he lived in Tharaudzati, they went by boat and ascended the river as far as that place. They carried with them many presents suitable for religious. Having landed, they took their quarters under a large tree. Rewati, knowing their wicked intent, would not receive their presents, nor hold communion with them. Undismayed by this first check which they had received, they tried to obtain access to the master by means of the disciple. They offered him some presents, which in his simplicity he accepted. Meanwhile they urged him to prevail upon his teacher to give them a favourable hearing. He only once made the attempt to introduce the subject with the greatest caution. Rewati, however, was on his guard: he administered to his imprudent disciple such a rebuke as to deter him from making any further attempt. His name was Outtara. He and all the Rahans went to Wethalie.

To calm the heat of discussion, and bring the question at issue to a complete settlement, the Walikarama monastery in Wethalie was selected as the fittest place for holding a general assembly, where both parties would attend, and endeavour to come to a mutual understanding. Out of an immense number of religious, 700, the most conspicuous for their learning were selected by Ratha and Rewati to be members of the assembly. But to render the discussion clearer and easier, it was agreed that each of the ten points should be first discussed by eight Rahans, four from each party. Rewati, Samputa, Ratha, and Thoumana represented the western or orthodox party: Samputa-kami, Thala, Koudyabantaka, and Wathakami acted for the opposite party.

It was evident that in this dispute the question was not about the Pitagat itself; this was admitted by both parties. The difficulty affected certain points of discipline, ten in number, which were to be settled by the authority of the Kambawa and Patimauk. The eight delegates having met in a private hall of the monastery, Rewati was desired to question the venerable Samputa-kami on the ten points on which there was disagreement. He said: “Is it lawful to add to the food that is received some salt or other condiments?” Samputa-kami answered: “It is not lawful.” “In what place was that point settled?” “In Wethalie, as being contrary to the spirit of the Wini.” “What sin is entailed on him who does such a thing?” “The sin of Patzeit.” Questions of a similar import were put as regards the drinking of milk in the afternoon, the use of waters half-fermented, the drinking of spirits, the receiving of gold and silver. Answers were given agreeably to the tenor of the Wini regulations.

When the eight delegates had come to a decision upon the ten points of discipline, they went into the great hall where the 700 Rahans were assembled. Ratha was the president of the assembly. Samputa-kami was desired to ascend the pulpit and hold the fan. The president said to the assembled Rahans: “Brethren, if it be pleasing to you, I will interrogate the venerable Samputa-kami on the Wini, and on the ten points in discussion.” He followed the same order that had been observed in the first meeting of the eight Rahans. The answers were unanimously received and approved of by the whole assembly. Then the president said: “All discussion concerning the ten points is now over; let every one accept the decisions of the assembly and act agreeably to them.”

This second council is called Thattasakita, or the assembly of the 700 Rahans. It was held in 102, under the reign of Kalathoka. That prince appears to have favoured the party of the Weitzi Rahans. The assembly lasted eight months. The canon of scriptures was likewise arranged and determined as it had been done by Kathaba in the first council.

Among the principal members of the assembly were Samputa-kami, Thala, Koudzasambita, Rewati, Thauna, and Samputa, who had been disciples of Ananda. Thoumana and Wauthabakami had been disciples of the venerable Anoorouda.

Partly from the countenance given by the king to the condemned party, and partly from the obstinacy shown by the easterners in resisting the decisions of the council, the Buddhistic society was divided into two great factions. The latter, that is to say the Weitzi Rahans, established the great school called the Maha Thingika. The Tera-thaka was that of the orthodox; it never changed in doctrine or in discipline. Until the third council, that is to say, during the space of more than a century, eighteen different schools branched off.[32] Of these, seventeen offered the sad spectacle of important changes in points of discipline and of doctrine. But the Terawada never changed: it retained both doctrine and discipline in their original purity. All the different schools received their denomination from their respective founders.

CHAPTER V.

Kalathoka is succeeded by his eldest son, Baddasena—And finally by the youngest, Pitzamuka—This prince is killed and succeeded by a chief of robbers, named Ouggasena-nanda—King Tsanda-gutta—King Bandasura—Miraculous dreams of Athoka’s mother—King Athoka—His conversion—His zeal for Buddhism—Finding of the relics—Distribution of them—Third council held under the presidency of Mauggalipata—Preaching of religion in various countries, and particularly in Thaton—Voyage of Buddhagosa to Ceylon—Establishment of religion in Pagan—Various particulars relating to the importation of the scriptures in Burmah.

At the conclusion of the synod, Samputa-kami and several of the most distinguished members of the Buddhistic assembly, astonished at the progress of schism and dissension which the united voices of seven hundred religious had not been able entirely to root up, endeavoured to divine, as far as human wisdom could reach, what would be in after times the fate of religion. They foresaw that one hundred and twenty years hence, there would be at Pataliputra a mighty ruler full of love for religion, and zealous for its propagation, who would do much to promote its exaltation. But before the reign of that pious monarch they saw distinctly that there would appear many heretics, fond of their own will, coining doctrines of their own invention, and that they would thereby inflict the most serious harm on religion. They had, however, the consolation to know that this was to come to pass after their death. But who was the fortunate being who was destined to check effectually the coming evil? They saw him in one of the seats of Brahmas. His name was Teissa. In due time he would come down to the seat of man, operate his incarnation in the womb of a pounha female, named Maugali, and would afterwards become a famous religious under the name Mauggalipatta. This vision filled their souls with the purest joy, which was increased by the view of the expansion and development which religion would receive through the zeal of that great personage.

After a reign of twenty-eight years, King Kalathoka died, leaving nine sons, the eldest of whom was named Baddasena. They all reigned one after the other through a period of thirty-three years. The last of them, Pitzamuka, was the youngest. During his reign a gang of robbers desolated the country of Magatha. On a certain day a man named Ouggasena, having fallen in with that gang, inquired of them what pursuit they followed in order to obtain their livelihood. They plainly told him that they knew nothing about the tillage of the fields, and were unacquainted with the business of trade; they had no other way left for maintaining themselves but to seize by force whatever they chanced to meet. Ouggasena, taken up with the boldness of these desperadoes, offered to join their company with his eight brothers. The offer was gladly accepted. It happened afterwards that in one of their depredatory expeditions their chief was slain. Ouggasena was appointed by common consent to take his place. Being of a bold and lofty daring, he said to his associates: “Friends, it does not suit brave and enterprising men as you are to confine your attacks to petty villages and small towns: you ought to aim higher.” He then represented to them in forcible language that King Pitzamuka was deficient in courage, and neglected entirely the duties of a king. “The moment is favourable,” added he, “to attack Pataliputra itself.” His opinion was universally accepted. The king, fonder of pleasure than of business, offered little resistance. He was killed at the taking of his capital, and Ouggasena sat on the throne, under the name of Ouggasena-nanda.

He was succeeded by his eight brothers. They reigned successively during the short period of twenty-two years. The last of them was called Dzananda. These princes were not followers of Buddha, but they supported the party of the pounhas, to which they adhered. Their generosity towards the pounhas was very great. They fed daily a great number of them in their own palace.

Among the pounhas who were maintained by the king’s liberality, there was one named Dzanecka, who was much versed in the science of astrology. Being once in the country, he saw in himself certain signs indicating that one day he would become a king. Having communicated this intelligence to his mother, she wisely advised him to ignore such dangerous signs, which would inevitably bring the king’s anger upon him, and expose him to great perils. Dzanecka was wise enough to comply with his mother’s wishes.

On a certain day Dzanecka returned to Pataliputra, from the country place where his mother lived. On his arrival, he, in company with his brethren, went to the palace to receive alms, that were to be distributed in the king’s presence in a large hall, fitted for that special purpose. He occupied the foremost rank. The king, who saw him, could not help remarking something extraordinary in his person. Suspicions arose in his bosom respecting the fidelity of that pounha. He instantly felt angry with him. Unable to control his passions, he ordered one of his officers to turn him out of the palace without giving him anything. The pounha had but to obey the unwelcome summons. Stung to the quick by shame and rage, he rose from his place. When he was just crossing the threshold of the hall’s entrance, he took off his caste’s string, and cut it in pieces; he likewise broke his mendicant’s pot, and flung all against one post of the door of the hall, uttering at the same time imprecations, and praying that the king might never from that day enjoy rest. He ran away as far as he could, and under a disguise he eluded the pursuit of those that had been sent to arrest him. He escaped into Tekkaso. There he plotted the destruction of the king.

In one of his rambles through the country, Dzanecka met by chance a child, whom he knew to belong to a royal race. He at once adopted him, and brought him up with the greatest care and attention. It was not long, however, ere he found out that the signs prognosticating promotion to royalty were rather doubtful and somewhat insufficient. He could not rely on him for the execution of the important and long-cherished design he had in his heart. He had now to look out for some other one, who could afford him a greater subject for hope and confidence. Chance soon served him admirably well, to the utmost of his wishes.

After the destruction of Wethalie by Adzatathat, the princes that had escaped from the massacre had fled in an eastern direction, and built a city called Maurya. New misfortunes having befallen them, they were obliged to search for safety in precipitate flight. One of the wives of those princes, being in the family way, was led to the city of Pouppaya. Having been delivered of a son, she had the barbarity to order the little creature to be put into a jar, which was cast in a neighbouring cow-pen. The Nats watched over the child, and the bull of the herd, stationing itself near the infant, kept, with his horns and feet, at a distance any animal that came near. The cow-keeper, observing what was taking place, took the child and gave it to his wife Tsanda to bring him up as if he were their own child. He was called from the name of his adopted parents, Tsanda-gutta.

When the lad had come to the age to play the cowherd, he assumed among his fellow-herdsmen all the ways and manners and deportment of a king. He appointed some of them his ministers; others were invested with other mock dignities. He would sit on a tribunal, decide small cases, and strictly enforce the execution of his sentences.

The Pounha Dzanecka, who was living in the neighbourhood, hearing all this, wished to see the extraordinary boy. He recognised at a glance in the lad the sure signs foreshadowing his coming greatness. He purchased him for the sum of one thousand pieces of silver, and brought him up along with his other adopted son. Each of the boys had a splendid necklace of gold. On a certain day, Dzanecka ordered Pouppata, for such was the name of the first adopted son, to take a sword and go to Tsanda-gutta whilst asleep, and take from him his necklace of gold, without, however, cutting the thread, or even unloosing it. Pouppata, agreeably to his father’s order, went near the place where his brother was sleeping. He stood over him, and examined attentively by what means he could execute his father’s order. After many fruitless combinations, finding it impossible to do so, he went back to his father and related his disappointment. Dzanecka, without addressing him a word of blame, remained silent.

A few days afterwards, Dzanecka called Tsanda-gutta, and commissioned him to take a sword, and during his brother’s sleep to steal away from him his gold necklace, carefully avoiding either to cut the string or to untie it. Tsanda-gutta went to the place where his brother was sleeping. After a few moments of reflection, seeing but one way to obey his father’s order, he cut off at once his brother’s head, and brought entire the necklace of gold, which he placed at his father’s feet. The latter, without giving a sign of approbation or displeasure, remained silent.

Dzanecka gave all his treasures to Tsanda-gutta. Having pointed out to him and minutely explained the course he had to follow for obtaining the high station he was destined to, the pounha repaired to some other place, bidding him remember him after he became a king. With the treasures left at his disposal, Tsanda-gutta levied men, and went on from success to success, until he possessed himself of Pataliputra and killed Dananda. He received the water of consecration, and began his reign in 163. That monarch seems to have been accustomed to the use of poisons. For it happened that, on a certain day, his first queen, belonging to the Maurya race, tasted a mouthful of a dish prepared for the king. This caused her death. At the time of that fatal occurrence she was far advanced in pregnancy. The king, without a moment’s delay, ordered her belly to be opened; the infant was taken out and put in the belly of a goat freshly slain. The child lived, and was called Bandasura.

Tsanda-gutta, after a reign of twenty-four years, died in 187, and was succeeded by his son Bandasura, only sixteen years old. Both the father and the son were supporters of the pounhas, and fed daily an immense number of them in their palace. Bandasura reigned twenty-seven years, that is to say, until the year 214. He had altogether 101 sons. His first queen, called Damma, had become the mother of two sons, called Athoka and Teissa. When she was pregnant of the first, she had five dreams: First, she thought she was stretching her two feet, one resting on the sun, and the other on the moon; second, it appeared to her that she was devouring the stars; third, she fancied she was eating the clouds; fourth, she imagined she was eating the worms’ dunghills; fifth and finally, she imagined she was eating the leaves of all the trees. According to the prediction of the soothsayers, the five dreams meant that the son whom she had in her womb would rule over the whole of the island of Tsampoudipa; that he would destroy all his brothers, who would unite to dispute the throne with him; that he would disperse all the heretics or upholders of false tenets, who, like clouds, obscure the glory of religion; that he would possess all above the earth to the height of one youdzana, and all below the earth to an equal depth.

When Athoka was sixteen years old, his father sent him to Outzeni to govern that city, and the territories annexed to it. On his way to that city, Athoka had to pass through Wedika, distant fifty youdzanas from Pataliputra, in an eastern direction. The town had been founded by the princes of Kapilawot, when that city had been almost destroyed in the days of Buddha. In that place he married the daughter of a rich man, named Dewa. After his arrival at Outzeni, Athoka’s wife presented him first with a son, who was named Maheinda, and subsequently with a daughter, called Seingamitta. Athoka remained nine years at Outzeni. At the end of that period, hearing that his father lay dangerously ill, he hastened to Pataliputra, to assist him and render all the services dictated by filial love. On his return, having to pass through Wedika, he left in that place his wife and his two children. A little while after his arrival at his father’s capital, the king breathed his last, and Athoka was proclaimed king.

The new monarch, however, found himself soon surrounded by many enemies. With the exception of Teissa, who was born from the same mother, all his brothers conspired against him. The oldest of all, named Thoumana, was the originator and leader of the rebellion. After a protracted struggle, Athoka’s good fortune prevailed. His rebellious brother Thoumana was overcome and made a prisoner; soon after, he was put to death. The same sad and cruel fate befel the other ninety-eight brothers. But it took three years before Athoka could free himself from all his enemies. On the fourth year after his accession to the throne, that is to say, in 218, he received the royal consecration, and in honour of his mother took the name of Dammathoka. He obtained a universal sway all over Dzampoudipa.

Up to the period of his consecration, Athoka had always favoured the pounhas. In imitation of his father’s conduct, he fed daily an immense number of them in his palace. They all dressed in white clothes. It was only after he had received the royal consecration that he became a convert to Buddhism, through the instrumentality of his own nephew, the Rahan Nigrauda. A few particulars respecting this celebrated religious may not be unacceptable to the reader.

After Thoumana’s death, his wife Thoumana-dewi was near the moment of her confinement. Under disguise, she contrived to baffle the snares of her husband’s enemies and elude their pursuit. She went to the neighbourhood of the village of Dountsanka, a little distant from Pataliputra in an eastern direction, and rested under a banyan tree. A small shed was provided for her, and the head man of the village, who looked upon her as his daughter, supplied her with food. She was delivered of a son, whom she named Nigrauda. When he was about seven years old he was confided to the care of the venerable Varuna, who instructed him in his monastery, and taught him the Kamatan. He became a religious, and was made a patzin. The monastery of the venerable Varuna was not very distant from the southern gate of the city.

On a certain day the young religious Nigrauda rose up at an early hour, and having paid his respects to his great instructor, put on his cloak, and, taking under his arm the mendicant’s pot, left his monastery, entered the city by the southern gate, and shaped his course towards the eastern one, with the intention of going to visit his mother. At that very moment King Athoka was standing over the lion’s gate of his palace enjoying the cool of the morning breeze. He saw the young religious passing with a grave and steady step. All was graceful and dignified in his deportment. A placid joy, a serene modesty, and a majestic appearance beautified his countenance to such an extent that, at the first look, the king felt an irresistible affection for the young Samane. Without a moment’s delay he despatched an officer to call him. With a kind and affectionate tone the king invited him to ascend the steps of his palace, and insisted on serving him with his meal. When the repast was over, Athoka said: “Young Samane, do you know well all the doctrines taught by your instructor?” “I am somewhat acquainted with them,” replied Nigrauda modestly. “If such be the case, will you be pleased to explain them to me?” He then said in reply: “He who is diligent in practising the duties that procure merits enjoys true happiness; he shall be exempt from death. He who neglects the duties that procure merits is unhappy, and is in a state of death.” The king, delighted with the instruction delivered to him by the young Samane, offered him several presents suitable to the religious profession. But Nigrauda would not accept them, except in the name and for the benefit of his instructor; because it was he who had the charge of teaching people to avoid evil, to do good, and to practise the religious duties. As to him, he was but a disciple. Athoka was greatly pleased with the modesty and disinterestedness of the young Samane.

On other occasions the king sent for Nigrauda, and heard his instructions with such a good result that he gradually became a perfect convert. By the advice of his spiritual guide, Athoka made daily presents to a certain number of religious of the Buddhistic persuasion. The number of the religious who every day attended the court to receive presents gradually swelled to the amount of 60,000. Nigrauda instructed his royal pupil on the three Saranans and the five precepts. He infused into his soul a tender love for Buddha and his religion. The great change in the king’s dispositions happened on the fourth year after his coronation. Up to that time he had favoured the party of the pounhas, as his father and grandfather had done. He was in the habit of daily affording food and maintenance to sixty thousand pounhas wearing the white dress.

Not satisfied with the liberal offerings of every day, the king said to the Rahans: “My intention is to build a great number of dzedis in all the cities of Dzampoudipa. But where are to be found the relics of the most excellent Buddha, that they may be divided and enshrined in the principal dzedis?” By his order the relics were searched for in every direction. The dzedis already built in Wethalie, Kapilawot, Allakappa, Pawa, and Koutheinaron were all demolished. An exception was made in favour of the dzedi in the village of Rama. The Nagas, guardians of the place, would not allow that monument to be touched. In vain did the workmen strive with pickaxes to demolish the dzedi. Their instruments broke in pieces as soon as they came in contact with the building. But in none of them could the precious deposit be found. The king commanded that the demolished sacred monuments should be rebuilt precisely in the same shape and form as they stood previously. Athoka, disappointed but undismayed by his want of success, directed his steps towards Radzagio, and resolved not to relax in his exertions until he had found the precious object of his eager desires. Having arrived at that place, he assembled all the Rahans and people, and inquired if there was no person who could lead him in the way to discover the relics. In the crowd there was a Rahan one hundred and twenty years old, who said that when he was a Samane about seven years old, his superior directed him to take some flowers and perfumes, and, leading him to a retired place, said to him, “You see that dark bush in the middle of which there is a small stone dzedi; let us prostrate ourselves before it and make our offering.” When this was done he added with a solemn tone of voice, “Young Samane, observe well this spot, and ever remember it.” He said nothing more, and we returned to our home. “This is doubtless,” said the king, “the very spot I am searching after, without having ever been able hitherto to discover it.” The king and his people hastened to the indicated place. Great offerings were made to the guardian Nat in order to propitiate him. The Nat, assuming the shape of a young man, removed all the obstacles that obstructed the way to the place. When the king was near the first door, he discovered the ruby whereupon was seen the above-related inscription. On touching the bolt the door was suddenly opened, when, to the great surprise of all present, the lamps that had been lighted two hundred and eighteen years ago were found burning and full of oil; the flowers, without the least sign of withering, were as fresh and beautiful as those in the gardens; the smell of the perfumes seemed to be even more exquisite than that of new ones. The king, taking the gold leaf, read the inscription concerning him. He took all the relics, except a few that he left therein, replaced and arranged everything as he had found it. The finding of the relics happened in 218.[33]

All that has been herein above related respecting the partition of the relics by Dauna, &c., has been extracted from the book called Nibana Thoot. But he who wishes to know all the particulars concerning the places where the relics have been deposited, &c., must have recourse to the books called Data Win and Nalatadata Win.

On a certain day a likeness of Buddha was placed before the eyes of Athoka. The king was delighted with it. He wished to multiply the number of statues, so that they could be seen in every part of his dominions. He gave orders for the building of monasteries in the 84,000 towns of his immense dominions. This happened in 220 of the religious era. It was but three years afterwards, that is to say, in 223, that the dedication or consecration of the dzedis took place, in which portions of the relics were to be enshrined. Throughout his realm the king issued a proclamation inviting all the people to attend to the observance of the eight precepts. The royal mandate was duly attended to, and the religious festival celebrated with the greatest solemnity. On that occasion the king made abundant donations to the religious, and strove to display his zeal for the promotion of religion.

Delighted with all that he had done, the king said to the venerable Mauggalipata: “I have endeavoured to labour for the exaltation of religion by every means in my power. I have built religious monuments through the length and breadth of my dominions; I have made offerings on the grandest scale. May I now consider myself as entitled to the inheritance of religion?” The venerable Mauggalipata replied: “Great prince, you have indeed done much towards the advancement of the good cause. But something else more excellent still is to be performed that you may acquire a right to the inheritance of religion.” “What is that?” asked the king. “It is most perfect and meritorious,” replied Mauggalipata, “that you should consecrate your son Maheinda and your daughter Singameitta to the service of religion.” Athoka immediately asked his son, who was eighteen years old, whether he would like to become a religious. Maheinda answered in the affirmative. He was forthwith ordained Samane. Mauggalipata acted on the occasion as president, and Mahadewana as master of the ceremonies. Singameitta was similarly ordained. The president was Dammapata, and the person acting in the ceremony was Oopali. This happened in 223. Maheinda learned the Pitagat under the immediate superintendence and tuition of Mauggalipata himself. His proficiency both in the study of religious science and in the practice of virtue was so great that his teacher placed him at the head of a thousand Rahans, whom he was commissioned to instruct.

The great liberality of the king towards the Buddhists, the efforts that he made for the promotion of the new religion he had embraced, alarmed those who belonged to the opposite party. The pounhas saw themselves without support, and unable to provide for their maintenance. They had recourse to the following expedient to secure their livelihood, and also a well-concerted plan to weaken their enemies. They all assumed the yellow dress, entered into the Buddhistic monasteries, and affected to be converts, without being so in reality. They retained their own opinions, and even as regards regulations they refused to comply with some of the ordinances of the Wini. Some of them fed large fires; others exposed themselves to various degrees of excessive heat; others affected the mania of fixing their eyes upon the sun in the morning, and following it in its course during the whole day.[34] Many appeared to lay little stress on several portions of the Pitagat. As a matter of course, the true religious were much scandalised at such a conduct, and refused to hold communion with them on the days of worship. This state of things, after having lasted seven years, produced an irritation that could be no longer tolerated. Mauggalipata, disgusted at such a perturbation, left Maheinda at the head of the community, and withdrew to the Ahan Ginga mountain to enjoy some tranquillity.

King Athoka was informed of the prevailing disorder. With the view of pacifying the inmates of the monasteries, he sent an officer of his household with stringent orders to oblige the two parties to come to an understanding, to communicate with each other, and to worship in common on the festival days. The officer went to one of the monasteries, explained the royal order, and drew his sword, threatening to cut off the head of the first Rahan who would dare to offer opposition. One of the orthodox party came forward, and having explained the true state of things, concluded by firmly stating that he would not hold communion with heretics. The officer in vain expostulated, and entreated the religious not to be so tenacious in his views, but rather to show a willingness to obey the king’s orders, for the sake of peace. The latter persisted in his refusal. The officer, carried away by passion, struck off the head of the refractory Rahan. An immense uproar followed this tragical occurrence. All hopes of bringing about a pacification were then at an end. The officer withdrew from the monastery, and related to the king all the particulars as they had occurred.

Athoka bitterly deplored the murder that had been committed on a saintly personage, and reproached the officer with having outstepped the orders he had received. His religious feelings were grievously hurt, and his conscience greatly alarmed. He sent for several religious, and consulted them as to whether he was responsible for the murder committed by his officer. The spiritual advisers did not agree in their decision. Some of them were of opinion that the king was answerable for the doing of his messenger; others declared that the king, having given no order to the effect of using violence, the officer alone was responsible for the murder. Such conflicting opinions increased the king’s perplexities, and threw him in a state of great anxiety and uneasiness.

Some courtiers, grieved at the sadness which overspread their master’s mind, advised him to send for the celebrated Mauggalipata, and abide by the decision of that eminent man, whose knowledge was unsurpassed. The king gladly accepted the proposal. A messenger with a great retinue was at first sent to the place of Mauggalipata. The king’s desires were respectfully explained. But the old ascetic refused to quit his abode of peace. A second messenger was despatched, but with no better success. At last a third one was sent on the same errand, with several religious. The latter, who knew the great zeal of Mauggalipata for promoting the cause of religion, represented to him the imminent dangers religion was threatened with, and entreated him to come, and by his presence save it from an approaching ruin. On hearing this sad news the old man no longer hesitated. He immediately left his abode, went in the boat prepared for him, and gently sailed down the mighty stream to Pataliputra. The news of his coming down was spread in a moment. When the boat was reported to be near the city, the king, with his whole court, hastened to the banks of the Ganges. On her nearing the bank, Athoka went knee-deep into the stream, and helping the venerable Mauggalipata with his royal hand out of the boat, led him into a garden, where a suitable place had been prepared for his residence. There he sat at his feet, and rendered to him the same humble services which a disciple is wont to tender to his teacher.

The king, anxious to alleviate his scruples and relieve his much-troubled conscience, related the particulars of the case of the Rahan’s murder, and concluded by asking whether he was to be considered as responsible for the death of the religious. Mauggalipata said, “O king, had you, when you despatched the officer, the intention of having any refractory Rahan put to death?” “No,” replied the king. “Since you gave no such order to your officer, and you had no intention that any disobedience to your orders should be visited with capital punishment, the murder of the religious can in no way be imputed unto you, because intention is the thing that makes actions good or bad, and entails merits or sin on the perpetrator.” Athoka recovered at once his peace and tranquillity of mind. Meanwhile he entreated the venerable Mauggalipata to labour for the extinction of schism and the exaltation of religion.

Seven days after the arrival of the great religious, a vast hall was erected in the grove where Mauggalipata was living. At the end of it a fine pavilion made of cloth of various and bright colours was prepared for the accommodation of the monarch. Each religious had then to be examined separately in the presence of Mauggalipata on the doctrines and practices he held as genuine and good. Those whose doctrines and observances were found to be at variance with the Pitagat were expelled from the assembly, stripped of the canonical robe, and compelled to resume the white dress, that is to say, the one befitting the pounhas. The presence of the king silenced all murmurs, and rendered any attempt at resistance impossible. In this manner the orthodox Rahans were separated from the heterodox ones.

To heal the wounds inflicted on religion by schism, to restore purity of doctrine, and confirm the genuineness of the canon of scriptures, such as had been done by Kathaba in the first council, and by Ratha in the second one, Mauggalipata, with the concurrence of the pious Dammathoka, resolved to hold a third council. From the Rahans then present at Palibotra he selected a thousand, and with them he regulated the Pitagat. The council was opened in the year 235, and ended in 236 = to 307 B.C. It was presided over by Mauggalipata, who was seventy-two years old.[35]

At the conclusion of the council, the president, who was acknowledged the head of the Buddhists, thought of extending the sway of the new religion through the whole of Dzampoudipa. Hitherto it had been confined within the limits of Magatha. Now the time had come to extend it far and wide among the nations and tribes of the whole world. To carry out such a bold and comprehensive plan, Mauggalipata made an appeal to the ablest and most zealous members of the council, and charged a certain number of them to go and preach the true law in the countries beyond the boundaries of Magatha. The venerable Mitzaganti with four companions, was directed to proceed to the country of Kashmera-gandara. Rewati was ordered to go to Mahithakan-pantala. Gaunaka-damma Reckita went to Aparanta. Maha-damma Reckita was sent to the Mahrata country. Damma Reckita received a mission to proceed to Yaunaka, which is the country inhabited by the Pantsays. The venerable Mitzi directed his steps, in company with several brethren, towards some parts in the Himalayas. Thauna and Outtara proceeded in a south-eastern direction to the country of Souwana-boumi. Finally Maheinda, Ittia, Outtia, Thamala, and Baddathala went to establish religion into the island of Tappapani (Ceylon).[36]

Great success attended the preachings of the Buddhist heralds. If credit can be given to all that is related in the books on this subject, religion must have taken deep root in the heart of the people dwelling in those distant lands.

As regards Ceylon, there is an important fact to be stated. It appears that until the year of religion 454, the knowledge of the Pitagat was transmitted by means of oral tradition. The heads of monasteries required from their pupils to know the whole collection by heart. It is probable that one portion of the scriptures was learned by one section of the community, and another by another. In this manner the whole Pitagat was known in each monastery, and could be rehearsed in full by the inmates. This state of things lasted two hundred years. The great inconvenience necessarily attending it was soon felt so keenly that some means had to be devised in order to render the study of the sacred books surer and easier. In the reign of King Watakamani five hundred religious assembled in the village of Mallaya, and wrote the whole Pitagat in Sanscrit, and with the Sanscrit characters. Under the reign of that monarch a great dearth prevailed all over the island. Numerous Buddhist religious crossed over to the continent, and established religion in many parts of the southern portion of the peninsula. That prince also built the famous Bayagiri monastery. With the Mahawihara already existing, and the Dzetawon monastery subsequently erected, there sprung up three distinct schools. The latter was erected in 811, in the time of King Mathena of Ceylon. But the teaching of the Mahawihara was the only one truly orthodox. After a protracted existence, they were all merged in the Mahawihara school, under the reign of Thiri Singa-bodiparanna-maba, in the year of the Pouppa-dzau era (Pagan era), 522; of religion, 1714 = to 1161 A.D.

The venerable Thauna and Outtara of the pounha race came to the district of Thaton,[37] which is called Souwana-boumi, in the country of Ramagnia, for the purpose of establishing religion in that distant land, which lies south-east of Mitzima. Thiri-mathauka was the king who at that time reigned at Thaton. Previous to the arrival of the Buddhist messengers of peace, the town was desolated by the ravages of Biloos, who, coming from the sea, devoured all the newly-born infants. A great consternation and panic had seized the inhabitants when they saw the two strangers, clothed in yellow robes, setting their feet upon the shore. They mistook them for monsters of a new description, who were coming to increase their misfortune. They ran to arms, and were preparing to attack the two religious. The latter, perceiving the danger that threatened them, said with a meek tone of voice to the infuriated mob, “Why do you attack us? We are not Biloos, nor are we come hither with any hostile intention. Know ye that we profess a religion which forbids us to take away intentionally the life of even the smallest insect, to rob, to commit adultery, and to use spirituous and intoxicating liquors. By our regulations we are allowed to eat rice but once in a day.” On hearing the explanations given by the two strangers, the people of Thaton were quieted. They received them with kindness, and treated them with great respect. By the power inherent in the two religious, the sea-Biloo was put to flight, and was seen no longer. The king and the people, grateful for the service they had received, and delighted with the new doctrine preached to them, accepted joyfully the five precepts, and promised to observe them. An immense number of men and women were converted. Among the new converts, a great many embraced the religious life.

King Thiri-mathauka was informed that, a little while after Gaudama’s death, a Rahan, named Gambawatti, had brought thirty-three teeth of Buddha, and deposited them in a dzedi upon the mount Inda-danoo, which lies north-east of Thaton. Moreover, he had heard that after the eighth season, Gaudama had gone to Mitila. Whilst he dwelt into that place, it happened that a certain Rahan came to remember of some of his relatives whom he had known during a former existence. He saw them living in Thaton. He then earnestly supplicated his great master to condescend to go to that place and preach the law to his relatives. Gaudama, complying with the request, resorted thither through the air, attended by a great retinue. He preached the law, and previous to his departure, gave to the ruler of Thaton eight hairs of his head. Relying on the accuracy of the information, Thiri-mathauka felt a great desire to find out the precious relics, in order to have them distributed in eleven towns of Henzawatti, in eleven towns of Kouthein, and in eleven towns of Mouttama. These three countries constitute what is called Ramagnia. All happened agreeably to his wishes. The relics were duly found on mount Inda-danoo, in the very dzedi in which they had been enshrined, and were distributed in the various towns, as above mentioned. It is probable that there occurred at Thaton the same curious fact which we know to have taken place in Ceylon, viz.: Religion was propagated at first by the means of oral tradition.

The first one who made an attempt to possess himself of a copy of the sacred scriptures was Buddhagosa, a religious of Thaton, of the pounha race. That man embarked at Thaton, which was then on or near the sea. That place is in the Ramagnia country, and is inhabited by a people called Moun. He sailed to Ceylon in the year of religion 943,[38] under the reign of King Mahanama. He resided three years on that island, wrote the Pitagat on palm leaves with the Burmese characters which was found written in the language and characters of Ceylon. In another manuscript we read that he translated into Pali the scriptures which were in the language of Ceylon. Buddhagosa remained three years in Ceylon, in order to complete the work he had undertaken. During his stay in that island the people were so much pleased with him that they made him many and costly presents on his leaving their country. He brought over with him to Souwana-boumi, which is in the Ramagnia country, a complete collection of the scriptures.

In or about the year of the Pagan era 419,[39] the forty-second, some say, the forty-fourth king of Pagan, named Anaurata, having invaded the Ramagnia country, possessed himself of the Moun’s territories and entered triumphant into the venerable city of Thaton. He took away from that place the collection of scriptures brought over from Ceylon by Buddhagosa, as well as the most learned among the Rahans. With the aid of these distinguished Rahans, religion was then firmly established in Pagan. He became master of the whole of the Ramagnia country, which includes Henzawatti, Mouttama, and Kouthein.

We have alluded briefly to the reconciliation that has taken place in Ceylon between the three great schools. Two of them, the Bayagiri and the Dzetawon, merged into the great Mahawihara school, which had always held up the orthodox doctrines. In the year that followed that event—that is to say, in the year of religion 1714 of the Pagan’s era 522[40]—many Rahans, natives of Thaton, Pagan and other places in Ramagnia, attended by a large retinue, crossed over to Ceylon for the express purpose of worshipping the relics and the Bodi tree, and making themselves perfectly acquainted with the genuine doctrine and discipline. As a matter of course, they joined the Mahawihara school. They remained on that island during nearly one year. One of the party, named Tsapada, who was but a young Samane, was raised to the dignity of Patzin, according to the rules and regulations adopted by the Mahawihara. The party, having performed their devotions, and penetrated themselves with the spirit of the community in which they had spent a year, returned to their countries. The young religious, who had been but recently ordained, applied to his superior and obtained permission to remain behind in Ceylon for the purpose of studying the Pitagat and mastering its contents.

After ten years of unwearied application he went back with four companions, named Maheinda, Thiwali, Ananda, and Rahula. After their landing in the neighbourhood of Cape Negrais, they spent a year in Kouthein, and finally reached Pagan in the eighth year of the reign of King Narapati-sisoo of the Pagan era 534 = to 1173 A.D. In this manner, by the exertions of those five religious, the religion of Ceylon was firmly established and set up in Pagan. In this manner the doctrines and institutions preached and set up in Ceylon by Maheinda and his companions were blended with the doctrines and institutions which the venerable Thauna and Outtara had established in Thaton. Both flourished in Pagan and were much extended.[41]

The brilliant and glorious reign of Narapati-sisoo was soon followed by a series of misfortunes, which contributed to the weakening of his great empire, and finally brought on its total overthrow. Pagan was taken by foreign invaders. In the midst of such calamities three noblemen, named Radzasingian, Asinkara, and Sihasoo, set themselves up as kings, the first in Miyntsain, the second in Pekkara, and the third in Pinlay, in the year 662 = to 1301 A.D. The King of Miyntsain, having treacherously enticed Kiantza, the king of Pagan, to visit him in his new capital, detained him under various pretexts, and finally had him murdered. Thaunit, the son of Kiantza, hearing of his father’s detention, ascended the throne of Pagan, and reigned twenty-two years. He was succeeded by his brother Mouhnit, who reigned forty-three years. With him ended the line of Pagan kings in 730 = to 1369 A.D.

Sihasoo, the King of Pinlay, reigned in that place twelve years, and in 684 removed the seat of royalty to Panya. In that place there were successively five kings, whose aggregate number of years on the throne amounts to fifteen.

One son of Sihasoo, named Athinkara-dzau-goun, established royalty in Tsitkain in 684 = to 1323 A.D. Under the reign of his son and successor, named Thirimega, a canine tooth of Gaudama was brought to Tsitkain. The king had the precious relic placed in a golden casket, and enshrined in a turret of his palace. He daily worshipped it.

Thirimega having died, his two sons Dzeta and Tissa quarrelled about the crown. Neither of them ever had the title of king; both of them oppressed the country during nine years. The son of Dzeta, named Budadasa, became king, and reigned during twenty-nine years. It was under the reign of that monarch that five venerable religious, who were well versed in the science of the Pitagat, translated the whole compilation, which was in Sanscrit, into the language of Ceylon (Pali).[42]

Tsitkain ceased to be a royal residence in 725 = to 1364 A.D., and in the following year the city of Ava was founded on the sixth of the waxing moon of Tabaong, on a Tuesday at noon, under the constellation Pounna-pha-shou.

On the following year, Mouhnit, king of Pagan, died at the age of sixty-four, after a reign of forty-three years, with whom ended the line of the Pagan monarchs. In the great city of Ava religion greatly flourished, and in 1134 = to 1773 A.D., this book was composed[43] in the province of Dybayen.

For the purpose of creating and increasing feelings of affection towards the most excellent Buddha,[44] who is greater than the three rational beings, towards his glorious perfections, as well as the law and the assembly, I have, to the best of my abilities, endeavoured to translate from the Pali into Burmese the sacred book called Malla-linkara-wouttoo, or history of the most excellent flower.

AN ABSTRACT
OF
A FEW SMALL DZATS, AND OF TWO PRINCIPAL ONES, CALLED
NEMI AND DZANECKA.

The writer has thought that it would not be without interest to the reader to make a few remarks respecting the five hundred and ten Dzats so famous amongst the Burmese, and to give as a specimen of those compositions the abbreviated translation of some of those fabulous accounts. We will begin with a few of the small Dzats, and end with the compendious summaries of two of the great ones, known under the names of Nemi and Dzanecka. The Buddhists of these parts maintain that all the Dzats contain a short and concise narrative of some of the circumstances attending certain existences of Gaudama, when he was born in the state of animal, man, prince, nobleman, poor, rich, Nat, &c. The narrator is no other than Gaudama himself, who is supposed to have condescended to make his disciples and the crowds of hearers acquainted with certain particulars relating to his person whilst he was passing through the slow process of metempsychosis and gradually gravitating towards the perfection he had at last reached. In fact, each of these pieces is prefaced with these words: When the most excellent Buddha was in such a monastery, surrounded with his disciples, he spoke as follows, &c.

It is not improbable that some of these stories may have been told by Gaudama for the two following purposes: First, to impress his hearers with a profound respect for his incomparable wisdom, which enabled him to penetrate into the deep recesses of the past, and to bring to light some events hitherto buried in its dark bosom. The second and principal object he had in view was to give some important lessons to his disciples, to correct some of their defects, and stir up others to the practice of the highest deeds which he had himself performed during former existences. On his respect Gaudama followed the practice of all Eastern sages, who had recourse to the use of parables, similitudes, apologues, &c., in order to convey, under a gentle, amiable, graceful, and interesting form, the most important instructions, designed to enlighten the mind and correct the heart.

The collection or compilation comprises most of those fables that are to be met with amongst most of the Asiatic nations, whence they have found their way to Europe, first among the Greeks, and next the Western nations. The writer has been not a little surprised to find in that collection a number of fables the very same as those so inimitably narrated by the great French fabulist, the good La Fontaine. This is another confirmation to the old adage, There is nothing new under the sun.

These stories have certainly an Indian origin; at least the Burmans have received them, as almost all the things that are connected with their religion, from that quarter. Under despotic governments, the plain and naked truth cannot show itself, or make its voice to be heard, without exposing its friends to the most imminent dangers on the part of those tyrants who practically maintain that their will must ever stand above truth and reason. Stories nicely told were the pleasing and innocent but necessary dress which that sacred goddess was obliged to wear in order to make her presence supportable to the despots, and help her friends to find favour with those whose absolute and uncontrollable sway made everybody bow the head in their awful though detested presence.

The first five hundred stories have, it seems, no historical value whatever. They are most of them short and concise. But the last ten may very likely contain many facts or allusions to individuals and places that might afford a clue to some parts of the history and geography of India in days of a remote antiquity. A complete translation of the ten Dzats might not be without interest, provided such a work be accompanied with copious notes, made by a competent person, well acquainted with the ancient history of India.

All the stories end with a most important disclosure made by Gaudama himself. The personage that has played the most important and praiseworthy rôle is, as a matter of course, our Buddha himself. Those who befriended him, assisted him, and rendered him any services, are those who subsequently became his favourite and most distinguished disciples and hearers; whilst those who acted in any reprehensible manner, who opposed him and did him harm, afterwards became the individuals who were in his days heretics or holders of false doctrines, and in particular his arch enemy, the notoriously wicked Dewadat.

The compilation of all these stories is prefaced as follows:—In the country of Amarawadi lived a pounha named Thoumeda. After the death of his father he became the owner of a considerable estate. Having enjoyed it during many years, he began to reflect on the many and various accidents attending human life, and came to the resolution of leaving the world. He therefore distributed in alms all his riches, and withdrew into solitude, to lead an ascetic life. He soon reached a high degree of perfection. At that time Deipinkara, one in the series of the twenty-eight Buddhas, came to that country, attended by 400,000 Rahans, to beg his food. Our Rathee Thoumeda, having nothing to offer to the great Buddha and the assembly, came, threw himself at his feet, and delivered himself up soul and body to his service. In another compilation it is stated that Thoumeda had volunteered his services to level a portion of a road that Deipinkara was to follow. The work was finished, with the exception of a small gap that was not yet filled, when the Buddha made his appearance. The hermit, without a moment’s hesitation, flung himself on the ground, and bridged the place with his own body.

It was at the sight of such a perfect abnegation of self that Buddha gave to Thoumeda the assurance that one day he would become a Buddha. On that occasion great wonders took place.

From that time he began to practise with a fervent earnestness the great virtues and perfections prescribed by the law. The whole period of time that elapsed from the time Gaudama was the pounha Thoumeda to the time he became Prince Wethandara—that is to say, reached that existence which immediately preceded the last one, when he became Buddha—is of four thingies and one hundred thousand worlds or revolutions of nature. A detailed account of the most meritorious and interesting actions performed by him during several existences that illustrated that almost incalculable period is to be found in the great dzedi of Ceylon.

The accounts must be short and concise, otherwise the dzedi above referred to, how large soever we may suppose it to have been, could never have held them.

THE FOX AND THE LION.

1. When the most excellent Buddha was in the Dzetawon monastery, surrounded by his disciples, desiring to correct a religious who was in the habit of keeping bad company, he narrated the following story: At the time that the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was then a lion, father to two little ones, one male and the other female. The first was named Menandza. The lion’s household, when Menandza was grown up and had married, was composed in all of five individuals. Menandza, strong and bold, went out every day in quest of prey for the support of his four relations that remained in the den. One day, in the middle of one of his predatory excursions, he happened to meet with a fox, which was lying on his belly, in a most respectful posture. On being asked by the proud lion, with a terrific voice, heightened by a threatening glance, what he was doing, the fox respectfully answered: “I am humbly prostrated here to do homage and pay my respects to your majesty.” “Well,” said Menandza; and he took him alive to his den. As soon as the father saw the fox, he said to his son: “My son, the fox is an animal full of cunning and deceit, faithless, without honour, addicted to all wicked practices, and always engaged and embroiled in some bad affairs; be on your guard; beware of such a companion, and forthwith send him away.” Unheeding his father’s wise advice, Menandza persisted in his resolution, and kept his new friend with him.

On a certain day the fox intimated to Menandza that he longed to eat the flesh of a young colt. “Where is the place these animals are wont to graze?” asked Menandza. “On the banks of the river of Baranathee,” replied the fox. Both started immediately for the indicated spot. They saw there a great number of horses bathing in the river. Menandza, in an instant, pounced upon a young one, and carried it to his den. “It is not prudent,” said the old father, “to eat those animals which belong to the king. One day he will cause you to be shot from a distance with arrows, and kill you. No lion that eats horse-flesh has ever lived long. From this day cease to attack those animals.” Deaf to such wholesome warnings, Menandza continued to carry destruction among the horses. News was soon conveyed to the king that a lion and a fox were making great havoc among his horses. He ordered the animals to be kept within the town. The lion, however, contrived to seize some and carry them away. Orders were given to keep them in an enclosure. Despite this precaution, some horses disappeared. Enraged at this, the king called a bowman and asked him whether he could transfix a lion with his arrows. The bowman said that he could do it. Hereupon, leaving the king, he went and hid himself behind a post, waiting for the offender. It was not long ere he made his appearance; but the cautious fox had remained somewhat to the rear, hidden in a drain. In one start, the lion, with the quickness of lightning, was on the wall, and straightway he went to the stable. The bowman said within himself: “The lion’s movements are very quick; I will wait until he come back loaded with his prey.” He had scarcely revolved this thought in his mind, when the lion was already on his way back carrying a horse. The bowman, all ready, shot an arrow that transfixed the fierce animal. The lion made a start, crying with a terrific voice, “I am wounded.” The fox, hearing his friend’s accents, and the sharp whistling of the bow-string, knew at once what had happened. He said to himself, shaking his head: “There is no friendship, forsooth, with the dead; my friend has fallen under the bowman’s arrow; my life is safe; I will go back to my former place.”

The wounded lion, making a last effort, went back to his den, and dropped dead at its entrance.

Menandza’s relatives, perceiving the wound and the blood gushing out of it, understood at once that he had been shot through with an arrow, and that the fox was the cause of his miserable and untimely end. His mother gave vent to her grief as follows: “Whoever associates with the wicked shall not live long; behold my Menandza is no more, because he followed the fox’s advice.” The father, in his turn, bewailed the loss of his son: “He who goes in company with the wicked shall meet with some evil fate; witness my son, whom his desolate mother sees weltering in the very blood she gave him.” His sister cried aloud: “He who does not follow the advice of the good shall repent of it; he is mad, and, like my brother, shall come to an untimely and cruel end.” Menandza’s wife exclaimed: “He who belongs to a superior rank ought to beware to associate with those of a rank inferior to his own, otherwise he soon becomes as despicable as those he associates with. He loses his position, and becomes the laughing-stock of all.”

Buddha concluded his discourse with this reflection, that no one ought to keep company with those that are wicked and of an inferior position. The religious profited so well by the lecture that he broke at once with his former friends, and soon reached the state of Thautapan. The fox has been since Dewadat, Menandza, the religious, the object of the lecture, Menandza’s sister, Oopalawon; his wife, Kema; his mother, Yathaudara; his father, Phralaong.

THE JACKAL AND THE HUNTER.

2. When the most excellent Phra was in the Weloowon monastery, alluding to Dewadat, who aimed at harming him, he spoke as follows: “At the time the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was then a jackal, presiding over 500 other jackals of his own tribe. His dwelling-place was in a cemetery. One day it happened that the inhabitants of Radzagio made a great feast, where every one ate and drank as much as he liked. The repast was nearly over when some one asked for a last piece of meat, to give the finishing-stroke to his appetite. He was told that not the smallest morsel remained. On hearing this unwelcome news, he rose up, laying hold of a wooden club, and went straight to the cemetery. Then stretching himself on the ground, he lay down as if dead. Phralaong, cautiously drawing near to the pretended dead body, smelt it from a becoming distance, and soon discovered the snare laid for him. Coming up close to him, he suddenly seized the club with his teeth, pulling it with all his might. The young man did not let go his hold. The animal, withdrawing, said to the hunter: “Young man, I perceive now that you are not dead.” The hunter, goaded with shame and anger, rose up, and with more energy than dexterity flung his club at the jackal; but he missed him. “Go away,” said he, “wretched beast; you may boast that you have escaped this time.” “Yes,” mildly replied the jackal; “I have been saved from your club; but no one shall ever be able to preserve you from the punishment in the eight great hells.” Having thus spoken, he soon disappeared. The young man, having washed away in the ditch the dust that covered him, walked back, quite disappointed, into the town. The hunter was the same that subsequently became Dewadat. As to the jackal, he is the same that has since become Buddha.

THE PIGEON AND THE HUNTER.

3. When Phra was in the Dzetawon monastery, desiring to give instruction to the young son of a nobleman, named Ootara, he spoke as follows. At the time the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was a pigeon. There was then a man in that country who was wont to catch pigeons, bring them to his house, and carefully feed them until they became fat, when he then sold them at a high rate. Together with other pigeons, Phralaong was caught and brought over to the house. But he would not peck the grain that was spread before him. “Should I eat,” said he to himself, “I will soon get fat, and then be sold like others.” He soon became wretchedly thin. Surprised at this, the hunter took the pigeon out of the cage, placed it on the palm of his hand to examine it more closely and find the cause of its great leanness. Phralaong, watching the opportunity of a favourable moment when the attention of his guardian was called to some other object, flew away to his own old place, leaving the hunter quite vexed at and ashamed of his confiding simplicity. The hunter is in these days Dewadat; and the pigeon is now Buddha himself.

Here is the abridgment of two stories, well known to the readers of fables.

4. When Phralaong was a deer, he became intimate friend with the bird khaoukshia and a turtle. On a certain night it happened that a hunter having laid down his net, the deer was caught. A tortoise that was near to the place came and bit the net; the deer then soon made his escape from the dangerous position he was in. Whilst this was going on the friendly khaoukshia, perceiving the danger his friend was in, amused the hunter by flying right and left close to him, to retard his progress towards the place where the net was laid. Mad at the escape of the deer, he seized the turtle and thrust her into his bag. But the wily bird contrived by its peckings to make a large hole in the bag, and the tortoise too made her escape.

5. One day Phralaong, being then a husbandman, observed once, to his great surprise, that a lion of an uncommon size paid frequent visits to his rice field, and ate and destroyed many of the young plants. On a certain occasion he examined closely the intruder, and perceiving the extremities of his feet, he discovered that the pretended lion was but a colt that had clothed himself in a lion’s skin.

NEMI.

When the most excellent Buddha was in the country of Mitila, he went, attended by a great many Rahans, to the monastery of Meggadawa, situated in the middle of a beautiful grove of mango trees. He spoke as follows to the assembly: “Beloved Bickus, in former times I lived in this very place where we are now congregated, and was the ruler of the country of Mitila.” He then remained silent. Ananda respectfully entreated him to condescend to narrate to them some of the principal events that happened at that time. Buddha assented to the request, and said: “Formerly there reigned at Mitila a prince named Minggadewa. During 82,000 years he remained a prince, and spent all his time in the enjoyment of all sorts of pleasure; he was crown prince of that country during the same space of time, and reigned as king during a similar period.”

On a certain day the barber of the king having detected a grey hair on the royal head, exhibited it to his astonished regards. The king, struck at such a sight, soon understood that this object was the forerunner of death. He gave up the throne, and resolved to become a Rahan. Having put into execution his resolve, he practised with the greatest zeal the highest virtues, and after his death migrated to one of the fortunate seats of Brahmas. The 82,000 princes who succeeded him followed his footsteps, inherited his virtues, and after their demise obtained a place in the same seat.

Prince Minggadewa, who had opened the way to such a succession of pious monarchs, perceiving that his race was near being extinct, left the seat of Brahmas and took flesh in the womb of the queen of the king who then governed Mitila. On the tenth month the queen was delivered of a son, who received the name of Nemi. The pounhas who were invited to the palace to tell the horoscope of the royal child assured the king that this child would follow the example of all his predecessors who had left the throne and embraced the profession of Rahans.

From his tender age the young prince displayed the most liberal and pious dispositions in making abundant alms, and fervently observing all the religious practices. All the inhabitants of that kingdom followed his example, and when some one died, he migrated to one of the Nats’ seats. During those happy times, hell seemed to have become quite unnecessary.

On a certain day Nemi appeared to be most anxious to know which was the most excellent practice, the bestowing of alms, or the observance of the precepts. The great Thagia came down from his glorious seat, encompassed with an incomparably shining brightness, and went to the place where the prince was busy revolving this thought in his mind. The angelical visitor told him that the bestowing of alms could only procure an admittance into the seats of Nats, but that a perfect compliance with the ordinances of the law opened the way to the seats of Brahmas. As soon as he had given his decision, he returned to his blissful seat. On his arrival he found crowds of Nats given up to rejoicings. The Thagia gave them a detailed narrative of all that he had seen on earth during his errand, and in particular eulogised at great length the religious dispositions of Prince Nemi. Enraptured with the heart-moving description they heard, all the Nats at once exclaimed that they wished to see in their seats so accomplished and virtuous a prince. The Thagia commanded a young Nat, named Matali, to have his carriage ready, depart for the country of Mitila, and bring to this fortunate seat the ruler of that country. Matali, bowing before the Thagia, forthwith left the seat of Nats in a magnificent chariot. It was then the day of the full moon, when all the inhabitants of Mitila were busily engaged in discharging their prescribed religious duties. On a sudden there appeared, issuing from the east, the magnificent and bright equipage of the Nat, splendidly emerging from the bosom of clouds at the same time as the moon in its full. Surprised at such an unexpected sight, all wondered, and believed that two moons were miraculously rising on that occasion. They were soon undeceived by the nearer approach of Matali’s carriage. The messenger went to the king, and conveyed to him the intelligence that the Nats were exceedingly anxious to see him. Without a moment’s hesitation the king stepped into the carriage, and abandoned himself to the guidance of his heavenly guide. “Two roads are now opened before us,” said Matali, “the one through the dismal dungeons, where the wicked are consigned to undergo punishment for their offences, and the other through the blissful seats, where the good are enjoying the rewards allotted to them for their virtues. Which of the two do you wish to follow?” The prince said that he wished to visit both places. Matali answered in a mild tone of voice that his request should be complied with.

The celestial guide directed his rapid course through the regions of desolation, where dwells an eternal horror. The first object they met with was a broad and deep river, filled with frightful whirlpools, where the water seemed as if boiling. It was glowing like a flame, and the whole mass of water appeared like a lake of fire. The river is called Wattoorani. On the banks of that river stand the infernal ministers, armed with all sorts of sharp-edged instruments, cutting, wounding, piercing the unfortunate wretches, who try to get out of that horrible and burning water. They are forcibly pushed again into the same place of torments, and tumble over pointed darts, whence they are taken up and roasted on living coals. Nothing is heard but the horrifying howlings and yells of those unfortunate beings, who are waiting with the greatest impatience the moment of their deliverance. “What are the crimes,” asked the terrified prince, “that have committed the unfortunate inhabitants of this place to undergo such unheard-of sufferings?” “They are,” replied Matali, “the persecutors of the weak, the heartless oppressors of the poor, &c., who are doomed to undergo such punishments.” Thence the guide drove rapidly to another place, where dogs, each with five hideous heads, famished eagles, and devouring crows, fed with a ravenous hunger on the bodies of unfortunate victims, the flesh of which is incessantly reproduced to afford a continual prey to these never-satiated ferocious animals. “These,” said Matali, “suffer for having done no good to their fellow-creatures, for preventing others to do some, and for having borne envy to their neighbours.”

Here follows a long description of the other places of hell, given to Nemi by his celestial guide. We omit it, lest its tedious and revolting particulars tire and disgust the reader. Suffice it to mention that the torments of Tantalus are described here with a horrifying correctness, such as almost casts into the shade the description given to us by the Latin poet.

Having ranged the various regions of hell, and heard all the particulars given to him by Matali, Nemi was suddenly brought over to the beautiful, smiling, and blissful seats of the blessed. He soon descried at a distance the celebrated palace, made of diamonds, disposed in an immense square of twelve youdzanas on each side, and five stories high; then the garden, the tank, and the padetha tree. In that palace Biranee occupied a splendid apartment; she was then lying on a soft sofa, surrounded by more than a thousand beauties. “What good works,” asked Nemi, “has Biranee practised, to deserve such a magnificent reward?” Matali replied, “This daughter of Nats was formerly a slave in the house of a pounha. She was always very attentive to all the duties of her position, and at the same time regularly observed the precepts of the law. On a certain day her mistress, who was wont to feed eight Rahans daily, fell into a fit of anger, and said that she was unable to bear any longer the fatigue attending the maintenance of these religious. But the young slave, full of religious zeal, took upon herself the labour of feeding the Rahans. For this good and meritorious work she is enjoying the happiness of her present position.”

Nemi was successively led into the various seats of the inhabitants of those blissful regions, and his guide explained at great length the good works that had procured to each of them the respective happy situation which they enjoyed, and occasionally mentioned the period of time they were allowed to dwell in those abodes of unparalleled happiness. He was finally introduced to the presence of the great Thagia, who is the chief of all Nats. Having finished the survey of all the seats of Nats, Nemi was brought back to the seat of men in his own capital by the same celestial guide.

On his return Nemi saw himself surrounded by his pious subjects, who eagerly inquired of him all the particulars respecting his journey. He minutely explained to them all that he had seen both in the region of hell and in those of Nats, and concluded by exhorting his people to be liberal in bestowing alms, that they might hereafter be admitted to share in the enjoyment of the Nats’ happiness.

Nemi, perceiving that his hairs were turning grey, became still more zealous in the practice of alms-deeds, and resolved to embrace the profession of Rahans. But previous to his taking such a step he had his son Ralaradzana appointed to succeed him. With that prince terminated the long succession of kings who in the decline of their lives became Rahans.

DZANECKA.

This is one of the best written Dzats possessed by the Burmese. The writer has translated it from beginning to end; but he will give here only an outline of its contents. The narrator, as usual, is our Buddha himself, when he was in the Weloowon monastery, surrounded by the members of the assembly and a crowd of hearers.

In the country of Mitila there reigned a king named Dzanecka, who had two sons called Arita Dzanecka and Paula Dzanecka. After a long and prosperous reign he passed to another existence. Arita Dzanecka, having celebrated his father’s obsequies and made the usual purifications, ascended the throne. He confirmed his younger brother in the situation of commander-in-chief, which he had hitherto held.

On a certain day a vile courtier, by a false report, awakened in the king’s breast sentiments of jealousy and suspicion against his brother’s fidelity. The innocent prince was cast into a dungeon; but in the virtue of his innocence he found means to make his escape, went to a part of the country where he had powerful supporters, and soon found himself in a condition to bid defiance to his brother. The king assembled his troops; a battle ensued, in which the king was slain, and Paul Dzanecka ascended the throne.

The queen, who was with child, on hearing the news of such a disaster, went to the treasury, took some ornaments of the purest gold and the most valuable precious stones, and placed the whole in a basket. She then spread out rice so as to cover the treasure, and extended an old and dirty cloth over the opening of the basket. Putting on the dress of one of the meanest women, she went out of the town, carrying the basket over her head. She left the city through the southern gate and passed into the country without being noticed by the guards.

Having gone to a certain distance from the place, the queen did not know which way to direct her steps. She sat in a dzeat during the heat of the day. Whilst in the dzeat she thought of the country of Tsampa, where some of her relatives lived, and resolved to go thither. She began to make inquiries at the people that were passing by respecting the route she would have to follow.

During this time the attention of a Nat was suddenly attracted by the inspiration of Phralaong, who was in the queen’s womb, to the sad position his mother was in. He, leaving forthwith his blissful seat, assumed the appearance of an old man guiding a carriage along the road. He came close to the dzeat and invited the queen to ascend his carriage, assuring her that he would convey her safely to Tsampa. The offer was accepted. As the queen was far advanced with child, she had some difficulty in getting into the conveyance, when that portion of the earth which she was standing upon suddenly swelled and rose to the level of the carriage. The queen stepped into the chariot and they departed. During the night they arrived at a beautiful place close to the neighbourhood of Tsampa. The queen alighted in a dzeat. Her celestial guide bade her to wait until daybreak before she ventured into the city, and returned to the seat of Tawadeintha.

During that very night a famous pounha, attended by five hundred of his disciples, had left the town at a late hour, to take a walk by moonlight and enjoy the cool of the night and a bath in the river. Pamaouka, for such is the name of the pounha, came by chance to the very place where the queen was seated. His disciples continued their walk and went on the bank of the river. She appeared full of youth and beauty. But by the virtue of Phralaong the pounha knew that she was in the family way, and that the child she bore was a Phralaong. Pamaouka alone approached close to the queen and entreated her to entertain no fear whatever; that he looked upon her as his sister. The queen related to him all the particulars of her misfortune. The great pounha, moved with compassion, resolved to become her supporter and protector. At the same time he recommended her to say that he was her brother, and when his disciples should come back, to shed tears in token of the tender emotion she felt at meeting with him. Everything having been arranged, Pamaouka called his disciples, told them how happy he was at having found his sister, from whom he had parted many years ago. Meanwhile he directed them to take her to his house, and recommended her to the special care of his wife. As for him, he would be back soon after having performed the usual ablutions. The queen was welcome in the pounha’s house, and treated with the greatest care and tenderest affection. A little while after she was delivered of a beautiful child, resembling a statue of gold. They gave him the name of Dzanecka.

Having reached the years of boyhood, he was one day playing with boys of his own age, when, by way of teazing, they called him the son of the widow. These keen tauntings made him urge his mother to reveal to him the name of his father. It was then that he knew the author of his birth. Pamaouka taught him all the sciences known in those days, such as medicine, mathematics, &c. At the age of sixteen years young Dzanecka had completed all his studies.

Dzanecka resolved to devote himself to trade, and acquire thereby ample means to reconquer one day the throne of his ancestors. With a part of the treasure his mother had brought with her, he was in a position to fit out a ship in company with several other merchants. He resolved to sail for a place called Caumawatoura. He had scarcely been at sea two days when a mighty storm came on. The vessel, after having held out some time against the roaring and raging billows, at last gave way, and was broken in pieces. All the crew and passengers, amounting to 700, miserably perished in the sea, without making the least effort to save themselves. Our Phralaong, on the contrary, seizing the extremity of a log of wood, swam with all his strength, resolved to struggle to the last against adversity. Mighty were his efforts for several days. At last a daughter of Nats, whose duty it was to watch over the sea, saw his generous and courageous behaviour, took pity on him, and came to his assistance. There followed a sort of dialogue between her and Dzanecka. The latter displayed his undaunted courage and firm purpose. The former admired the more his determined resolution. She resolved to save him from the dangerous position. Taking him in her arms, she carried him, according to his wishes, to the country of Mitila, in the garden of mango-trees, and placed him on the very table-stone where his ancestors were wont to enjoy themselves with a numerous retinue. Phralaong immediately fell asleep. The daughter of Nats, having enjoined the Nat, guardian of the place, to watch over the prince, returned to her blissful seat.

On the very day that the vessel was wrecked the ruler of Mitila died, leaving one daughter, named Thiwalee. Previous to his giving up the ghost and ascending to the seats of Nats, the king had ordered his ministers into his presence, and enjoined on them to select for the husband of his daughter a man remarkable for the beauty and strength of his body, as well as by the acuteness and penetration of his mind. He was to be able to bend and unbend an enormous bow, a feat which the united efforts of a thousand soldiers could scarcely achieve, and find the place where he had concealed sixteen golden cups. On the seventh day after his death, the ministers and pounhas began to deliberate among themselves about the choice of a match worthy of the princess. Several competitors offered themselves for the hand of Thiwalee, but they were all rejected. At last, not knowing what to do, they resolved to leave to chance the solution of the difficulty. They sent out a charmed chariot, convinced that by the virtue inherent in it they would find out the fortunate man whose destinies were to be united to those of the princess. The chariot was sent out attended by soldiers, musicians, pounhas, and noblemen. It came straight forward to the mango-trees garden, and stopped by the side of the table-stone Phralaong was sleeping upon. The pounhas, on inspecting the hands and feet of the stranger, saw unmistakable signs foreshowing his elevation to the royal dignity. They awakened him by the sound of musical instruments, saluted him king, and begged of him to put on the royal dress, mount on the chariot, and proceed triumphantly to the royal city. He entered the palace through the eastern gate. Having been informed of the king’s last intentions, he forthwith bent and unbent the bow, found out the sixteen golden cups, and was duly united to the beautiful and youthful Thiwalee. All the people showed signs of the greatest rejoicings; the rich made him all sorts of offerings; the pounhas in white costume, holding the sacred white shell, adorned with flowers and filled with water, with their bodies bent forward, poured respectfully the water, imploring blessings on the new monarch.

When the rejoicings were over, the king rewarded the pounha Pamaouka, who had been as a father to him during his exile. He applied himself to do as much good as he could in relieving the poor, and promoting the welfare of all. He delighted in mentioning to his courtiers his misfortune, and the great efforts he had made to extricate himself from difficulties. He praised the reward which attended generous efforts, and exhorted them never to flinch under difficulties, but always to exhibit a strong and unconquerable resolution under all trials, because it must sooner or later be crowned with success.

During the 7000 years that he reigned over Mitila with the queen Thiwalee, he faithfully practised the observances of the law, governed justly, fed the Rahans and Pitzega-buddhas, and gave abundant alms to the poor.

On the 10th month Thiwalee was delivered of a son, whom they called Digaout. On a certain day, the king, having received from his gardener some mangoes full of flavour and beauty, wished to go to the garden to see the tree that yielded such delicious fruits. When he arrived at the place, he saw two mango-trees, one with a luxuriant foliage, but without fruits, the other loaded with fruits. The monarch approached the tree, riding his elephant, and plucked some mangoes, which he ate and found delicious. Thence he proceeded further to inspect the other parts of the extensive garden. The courtiers and the people that followed plucked fruits from the same tree, and did it with such eagerness that they left neither fruits nor leaves on the tree.

On his return the king was surprised to see the fruitful tree destitute of both leaves and fruits, whilst the barren one had a beautiful appearance. The monarch, after a lengthened dialogue with his courtiers, concluded as follows: “The riches of this world are never without enemies; he who possesses them resembles the fruitful mango-tree. We must look out for goods that excite neither envy, jealousy, nor other passions. The Rahans and Pitzega-buddhas alone possess such riches. I will take a lesson from the barren mango-tree. That I may cut off and eradicate the troubles, vexations, and anxieties of life, I will renounce everything and embrace the profession of Rahan.”

With this idea strongly impressed on his mind, Dzanecka came back to his palace. He forthwith sent for the general of his troops, and directed him to place a strong guard in front of his apartment, and allow no one for four consecutive months to come into his presence, not even the queen, but only him who would bring his daily meal. He gave orders to his ministers to judge with impartiality, agreeably to the law. Having thus arranged everything, he withdrew alone to the upper apartment of his palace. Here follows a stanza in praise of the prince, who had separated from his queen, concubines, and all the pleasures and honours attending royalty.

Dzanecka alone began to meditate on the happiness of the life of pounhas and Pitzega-buddhas; he admired their poor diet, their zeal in practising the observances of the law, their earnest longings after the happiness of Neibban, their disengagement from the ties of passions, the state of inward peace and fixity which their souls enjoyed. In his enthusiasm he venerated them with a holy fervour, called them his masters and preceptors, and exclaimed: “Who will teach me to imitate their lives, and help me to become similar to them?” In ten stanzas Dzanecka reviews successively all that had belonged to him, his capital with its stately edifices, fine gates, the three walls and ditches, the beautiful and fertile country of Wintzearitz, the palace with its lofty domes and massive towers, the beautifully ornamented throne, the rich and magnificent royal dresses, the royal garden and tank, the elephants, horses, and chariots, the soldiers, the pounhas, the princes, his queen and concubines. He then concludes each stanza with the following words: “When shall I leave all these things, become poor, put on the humble habit of Rahans, and follow the same mode of a perfectly retired life?” With these and similar reflections Dzanecka endeavoured to sunder one after the other many threads of passions, to pull down successively the branches of the impure tree, until he could give a final stroke to the roots.

At the conclusion of four months’ retirement, Dzanecka sent for a faithful servant, and directed him to procure for him the various articles of the dress of a Rahan. He had his head and beard shaved; put on the cherished habit, and placing a staff in his hand walked out of his apartments, and directed his course towards the gate, with the dignified deportment of a Rahan of sixty years’ profession.

Queen Thiwalee was tired of having been so long deprived of her husband’s company. She summoned seven hundred of the handsomest damsels of the palace to go with her to the king, and by the efforts of their united charms entrap him in the net of passion and prevail upon him to come back to their society. When they ascended the stair-case, they met with Dzanecka in his new attire. None recognised him; but all paid him due reverence as some holy personage that had come to give instructions to the king. Having reached the apartment and seen the royal dress set aside, and the beautiful and long black hairs laid on one of the sofas, the queen and her attendants soon understood the sad and heart-rending intimation which these objects were designed to convey. She ran in all haste with all her retinue down the stairs and overtook the new Rahan at the moment he was crossing the outer gate of the palace. Every means that could be devised to make impression on the king’s heart were resorted to by the queen and the damsels, in order to prevail upon him to forego his resolution. Tears, cries, wailings, striking of the breast, display of the most graceful and seducing forms, supplications, entreaties, were all used in vain; the new Rahan, unmoved and firm, continued his course, protesting that passions and concupiscence were dead in him, and that what could be said or done to engage him to change his resolution was in vain. During his progress towards the solitude of Himawonta, he was comforted and encouraged by the advice and instruction of two Rathees, who from their solitude flew through the air to witness the beautiful struggle between passions and virtue, and help him not to flinch before the repeated obstacles the queen put in his way, to retard, impede, and prevent the execution of his holy design. The names of these two instructors were Narada and Migalzein; they were clothed in the skins of panthers. They instructed him in the duties of his new calling, and exhorted him to root out of his heart with perseverance all passions, and in particular concupiscence and pride.

Comforted with such timely instructions, the new Rahan felt himself more than ever fixed in his resolution. On his way to the solitude, Dzanecka arrived one evening at the gates of a town called Daunu. He passed the night under a tree, at a distance from the queen and the crowd that followed her. On the morning he entered the town, and went, as usual, along the streets to beg his food. He happened to stop for a while at the shop of a man that was fabricating arrows. Dzanecka, seeing the workman shutting one eye and looking with the other to see if the shaft of the arrow was straight, asked him the reason of his doing so, as he would see better with both eyes than with one. The workman told him that it was not always good that each object in this world should have a match. “Should I,” said he, “look on this shaft with both eyes, my sight, distracted by several objects, could not perceive the defects of the wood, &c., but by looking on it with only one eye the least irregularity is easily detected. When we have a work to perform, if there be two opposite wills in us, it cannot be regularly made. You have put on the habit of Rahan; you have apparently renounced the world; how is it that you are followed by such a large retinue of women and other attendants? It is impossible to attend well to the duties of your profession, and at the same time keep such a company.” This cutting remark made a deep impression on Dzanecka. He had gone over a little distance, when he met a number of little girls playing together. One of them had a silver bangle on each hand, with one of gold on the right hand. When she agitated the right hand, the two bangles hitting each other produced a sound. Dzanecka, willing to try the wit of the little creature, asked her the reason why the movement of one hand produced a sound, whilst that of the other did not. She replied, “My left hand, that has but one bangle, is the image of the Rahans who ought to be alone. In this world, when an object has its match, some collision and noise inevitably result. How is it that you, who have put on the habit of Rahan, allow yourself to be followed by that woman who is still full of freshness and beauty? Is she your wife or sister? Should she be only your sister, it is not good that she should be with you. It is dangerous for Rahans to keep the company of women.”

This sharp lecture, from the mouth of a little girl, produced a deep impression on our Rahan. He left the city. A large forest was in the vicinity: he resolved to part company with the queen at once. At the entrance he stopped awhile, and paused for a moment. There, on a sudden, stretching his arm, he broke the small branch of a tree, and showing it to Thiwalee he said, “Princess, you see this small branch; it can never be reunited to the stem it has been taken from. In like manner, it is impossible that I should ever go back with you.” On hearing the fatal words the queen fainted. All her attendants crowded round her, to afford her some relief. Dzanecka himself, in the tumult and confusion that was going on, stole away with rapidity and disappeared in the forest. The queen was then carried back to Daunu by her attendants, whence they all returned to Mitila. Alone in the solitude, Phralaong enjoyed the sweets of perfect contemplation during a period of three thousand years. Thiwalee, on her part, resolved to renounce the world and follow the example of her husband. She became a Rahaness, in one of the royal gardens, during the same period of years, and subsequently migrated to one of the seats of Brahmas, called Brahma-parithitsa.

At the conclusion of the narrative Buddha added: “Mani-megala, the daughter of Nats, who saved me in the midst of the sea, is now my beloved fair disciple of the left, Oopalawon. The little girl who gave me such a wholesome instruction, at the gate of the town of Daunu, is now Kema, my fair disciple of the right. The Rathee Narada has since become my great disciple Thariputra, whose wisdom is second only to my own. The other Rathee Miga-dzein is now my disciple Maukalan, whose power for displaying wonders yields only to mine. The arrow-maker has since become Ananda, my faithful and dutiful attendant. Queen Thiwalee has become the Princess Yathaudara. As to Prince Dzanecka, he is now the Phra who is before you and addresses you, who is perfectly acquainted with all the laws and principles, and who is the teacher of men, Nats, and Brahmas.”

REMARKS
ON
THE SITES AND NAMES OF THE PRINCIPAL PLACES MENTIONED IN THE LEGEND.

The identification of the places mentioned in the course of the Life of Gaudama is certainly a great desideratum. This difficult and laborious task has been boldly undertaken by several government servants of both services. Great and important successes have attended their efforts. One of the most successful among them has been Major-General Cunningham, the archæological surveyor to the government of India. The sphere of his laborious and scientific researches has extended over north and south Behar, the cradle of Buddhism, and some parts of the Punjaub and Peshawar. Under his direction excavations have been made, inscriptions found and deciphered, the nature and dimensions of old ruined monuments correctly ascertained. In his valuable reports may be found important elements for reconstructing the history and geography of ancient India. He has been greatly assisted by the history of the voyages of the Chinese pilgrim, Hwen Thsang, who spent sixteen years in travelling throughout India, and visiting all the places rendered famous by the actions connected with the life of Buddha, and the spread of his doctrines and institutions. The voyage began in 629 and ended in 645 of the Christian era. The itinerary begins with the starting of the traveller from a city on the banks of the Hoang-ho. He shaped his course through the centre of Tartary, entered by the northern extremity of the plateau of Panin into what is called now Independent Tartary, visited Samarcand, where there were no Buddhists, but only fire worshippers. Thence he passed over to Balk, where he found religion in a flourishing condition. He ascended the mighty Hindu Kush mountains, penetrated into Cabul and Peshawar, crossed the Indus at Attock, and turning abruptly to the north, visited Oudiana, where he found dzedis and monasteries on the grandest and most magnificent scale, and came back to Attock, following the western bank of the Indus. He then proceeded through the Punjaub to Mathura, and minutely examined all the Buddhistic monuments to be found in the territories situated between the Ganges, the Gunduck, and Nepaul. He went to Benares, Pataliputra, and all the places in Magatha, or south Behar, where his religious curiosity could be satisfied. Thence he shaped his course in an eastern direction, and visited the whole of Bengal. He passed to Orissa, visited many places in Central India and a portion of the Upper Deccan. He went to Molwa and Guzerat, returned to Magatha, and began his homeward voyage. He recrossed the Indus at Attock, followed up the valley of the Cabul river, and with unheard-of difficulties and dangers passed over the Hindu Kush range. His route across Chinese Tartary led him back through Kashgar, Yarkand, and Khotan, to his native place.

It is a matter of surprise to see how acute in his observations, correct in his descriptions, and exact in his measurements, our pilgrim has been. With his book in hand, the above-named eminent archæologist was enabled, in many instances, to identify at once mere mounds of ruins, and satisfy himself that they were the remnants of the monuments described by our pilgrim. When he entertained any doubts in his mind, he had recourse to excavations, which, in most instances, demonstrated the perfect accuracy of Hwen Thsang.

Nearly two hundred years previous to the voyage of Hwen Thsang, another Chinese pilgrim named Fa-hian had undertaken a similar journey. Impelled by a purely religious zeal, he came to India for the sole purpose of visiting the places rendered famous and venerable by the birth, life, doings, and death of Foe, the same personage who is known in these parts under the name Buddha Gaudama. His object was also to make a complete collection of all the religious books acknowledged as genuine in India, and carry them with him to China. The errand of Hwen Thsang had a similar object.