Sacred Books of the East

Seizing then his bow and his five arrows, with all his retinue of male and female attendants, he went to that grove of "fortunate rest" with the vow that the world should not find peace. Then seeing the Muni, quiet and still, preparing to cross the sea of the three worlds, in his left hand grasping his bow, with his right hand pointing his arrow, he addressed Bodhisattva and said: "Kshatriya! rise up quickly! for you may well fear! your death is at hand; you may practise your own religious system, but let go this effort after the law of deliverance for others; wage warfare in the field of charity as a cause of merit, appease the tumultuous world, and so in the end reach your reward in heaven. This is a way renowned and well established, in which former saints have walked, Rishis and kings and men of eminence; but this system of penury and alms-begging is unworthy of you. Now then if you rise not, you had best consider with yourself, that if you give not up your vow, and tempt me to let fly an arrow, how that Aila, grandchild of Soma, by one of these arrows just touched, as by a fanning of the wind, lost his reason and became a madman. And how the Rishi Vimala, practising austerities, hearing the sound of one of these darts, his heart possessed by great fear, bewildered and darkened he lost his true nature; how much less can you—a late-born one—hope to escape this dart of mine. Quickly arise then! if hardly you may get away! This arrow full of rankling poison, fearfully insidious where it strikes a foe! See now! with all my force, I point it! and are you resting in the face of such calamity? How is it that you fear not this dread arrow? say! why do you not tremble?" Mâra uttered such fear-inspiring threats, bent on overawing Bodhisattva. But Bodhisattva's heart remained unmoved; no doubt, no fear was present. Then Mâra instantly discharged his arrow, whilst the three women came in front. Bodhisattva regarded not the arrow, nor considered aught the women three. Mâra râga now was troubled much with doubt, and muttered thus 'twixt heart and mouth: "Long since the maiden of the snowy mountains, shooting at Mahesvara, constrained him to change his mind; and yet Bodhisattva is unmoved, and heeds not even this dart of mine, nor the three heavenly women! nought prevails to move his heart or raise one spark of love within him. Now must I assemble my army-host, and press him sore by force;" having thought thus awhile, Mâra's army suddenly assembled round. Each assumed his own peculiar form; some were holding spears, others grasping swords, others snatching up trees, others wielding diamond maces; armed with every sort of weapon. Some had heads like hogs, others like fishes, others like asses, others like horses; some with forms like snakes or like the ox or savage tiger; lion-headed, dragon-headed, and like every other kind of beast. Some had many heads on one body-trunk, with faces having but a single eye, and then again with many eyes; some with great-bellied mighty bodies. And others thin and skinny, belly-less; others long-legged, mighty-kneed; others big-shanked and fat-calved; some with long and claw-like nails. Some were headless, breastless, faceless; some with two feet and many bodies; some with big faces looking every way; some pale and ashy-colored; others colored like the bright star rising, others steaming fiery vapor, some with ears like elephants, with humps like mountains, some with naked forms covered with hair. Some with leather skins for clothing, their faces parti-colored, crimson, and white; some with tiger skins as robes, some with snake skins over them, some with tinkling bells around their waists, others with twisted screw-like hair, others with hair dishevelled covering the body, some breath-suckers, others body-snatchers, some dancing and shrieking awhile, some jumping onwards with their feet together, some striking one another as they went. Others waving in the air, others flying and leaping between the trees, others howling, or hooting, or screaming, or whining, with their evil noises shaking the great earth; thus this wicked goblin troop encircled on its four sides the Bodhi tree; some bent on tearing his body to pieces, others on devouring it whole; from the four sides flames belched forth, and fiery steam ascended up to heaven; tempestuous winds arose on every side; the mountain forests shook and quaked. Wind, fire, and steam, with dust combined, produced a pitchy darkness, rendering all invisible. And now the Devas well affected to the law, and all the Nâgas and the spirits, all incensed at this host of Mâra, with anger fired, wept tears of blood; the great company of Suddhavâsa gods, beholding Mâra tempting Bodhisattva, free from low-feeling, with hearts undisturbed by passion, moved by pity towards him and commiseration, came in a body to behold the Bodhisattva, so calmly seated and so undisturbed, surrounded with an uncounted host of devils, shaking the heaven and earth with sounds ill-omened. Bodhisattva silent and quiet in the midst remained, his countenance as bright as heretofore, unchanged; like the great lion-king placed amongst all the beasts howling and growling round him so he sat, a sight unseen before, so strange and wonderful! The host of Mâra hastening, as arranged, each one exerting his utmost force, taking each other's place in turns, threatening every moment to destroy him. Fiercely staring, grinning with their teeth, flying tumultuously, bounding here and there; but Bodhisattva, silently beholding them, watched them as one would watch the games of children. And now the demon host waxed fiercer and more angry, and added force to force, in further conflict; grasping at stones they could not lift, or lifting them, they could not let them go. Their flying spears, lances, and javelins, stuck fast in space, refusing to descend; the angry thunderdrops and mighty hail, with these, were changed into five-colored lotus flowers, whilst the foul poison of the dragon snakes was turned to spicy-breathing air. Thus all these countless sorts of creatures, wishing to destroy the Bodhisattva, unable to remove him from the spot, were with their own weapons wounded. Now Mâra had an aunt-attendant whose name was Ma-kia-ka-li, who held a skull-dish in her hands, and stood in front of Bodhisattva, and with every kind of winsome gesture, tempted to lust the Bodhisattva. So all these followers of Mâra, possessed of every demon-body form, united in discordant uproar, hoping to terrify Bodhisattva; but not a hair of his was moved, and Mâra's host was filled with sorrow. Then in the air the crowd of angels, their forms invisible, raised their voices, saying: "Behold the great Muni; his mind unmoved by any feeling of resentment, whilst all that wicked Mâra race, besotted, are vainly bent on his destruction; let go your foul and murderous thoughts against that silent Muni, calmly seated! You cannot with a breath move the Sumeru mountain. Fire may freeze, water may burn, the roughened earth may grow soft and pliant, but ye cannot hurt the Bodhisattva! Through ages past disciplined by suffering. Bodhisattva rightly trained in thought, ever advancing in the use of 'means,' pure and illustrious for wisdom, loving and merciful to all. These four conspicuous virtues cannot with him be rent asunder, so as to make it hard or doubtful whether he gain the highest wisdom. For as the thousand rays of yonder sun must drown the darkness of the world, or as the boring wood must kindle fire, or as the earth deep-dug gives water, so he who perseveres in the 'right means,' by seeking thus, will find. The world without instruction, poisoned by lust and hate and ignorance; because he pitied 'flesh,' so circumstanced, he sought on their account the joy of wisdom. Why then would you molest and hinder one who seeks to banish sorrow from the world? The ignorance that everywhere prevails is due to false pernicious books, and therefore Bodhisattva, walking uprightly, would lead and draw men after him. To obscure and blind the great world-leader, this undertaking is impossible, for 'tis as though in the Great Desert a man would purposely mislead the merchant-guide. So 'all flesh' having fallen into darkness, ignorant of where they are going, for their sakes he would light the lamp of wisdom; say then! why would you extinguish it? All flesh engulfed and overwhelmed in the great sea of birth and death, this one prepares the boat of wisdom; say then! why destroy and sink it? Patience is the sprouting of religion, firmness its root, good conduct is the flower, the enlightened heart the boughs and branches. Wisdom supreme the entire tree, the 'transcendent law' the fruit, its shade protects all living things; say then! why would you cut it down? Lust, hate, and ignorance, are the rack and bolt, the yoke placed on the shoulder of the world; through ages long he has practised austerities to rescue men from these their fetters. He now shall certainly attain his end, sitting on this right-established throne; as all the previous Buddhas, firm and compact like a diamond. Though all the earth were moved and shaken, yet would this place be fixed and stable; him, thus fixed and well assured, think not that you can overturn. Bring down and moderate your mind's desire, banish these high and envious thoughts, prepare yourselves for right reflection, be patient in your services."

Mâra hearing these sounds in space, and seeing Bodhisattva still unmoved, filled with fear and banishing his high and supercilious thoughts, again took up his way to heaven above. Whilst all his host were scattered, o'erwhelmed with grief and disappointment, fallen from their high estate, bereft of their warrior pride, their warlike weapons and accoutrements thrown heedlessly and cast away 'mid woods and deserts. Like as when some cruel chieftain slain, the hateful band is all dispersed and scattered, so the host of Mara disconcerted, fled away. The mind of Bodhisattva now reposed peaceful and quiet. The morning sunbeams brighten with the dawn, the dust-like mist dispersing, disappears; the moon and stars pale their faint light, the barriers of the night are all removed, whilst from above a fall of heavenly flowers pay their sweet tribute to the Bodhisattva.

O-wei-san-pou-ti (Abhisambodhi)

Bodhisattva having subdued Mâra, his firmly fixed mind at rest, thoroughly exhausting the first principle of truth, he entered into deep and subtle contemplation. Every kind of Sâmadhi in order passed before his eyes. During the first watch he entered on "right perception" and in recollection all former births passed before his eyes. Born in such a place, of such a name, and downwards to his present birth, so through hundreds, thousands, myriads, all his births and deaths he knew. Countless in number were they, of every kind and sort; then knowing, too, his family relationships, great pity rose within his heart.

This sense of deep compassion passed, he once again considered "all that lives," and how they moved within the six portions of life's revolution, no final term to birth and death; hollow all, and false and transient as the plantain tree, or as a dream, or phantasy. Then in the middle watch of night, he reached to knowledge of the pure Devas, and beheld before him every creature, as one sees images upon a mirror; all creatures born and born again to die, noble and mean, the poor and rich, reaping the fruit of right or evil doing, and sharing happiness or misery in consequence. First he considered and distinguished evil-doers' works, that such must ever reap an evil birth. Then he considered those who practise righteous deeds, that these must gain a place with men or gods; but those again born in the nether hells, he saw participating in every kind of misery; swallowing molten brass, the iron skewers piercing their bodies, confined within the boiling caldron, driven and made to enter the fiery oven dwelling, food for hungry, long-toothed dogs, or preyed upon by brain-devouring birds; dismayed by fire, then they wander through thick woods, with leaves like razors gashing their limbs, while knives divide their writhing bodies, or hatchets lop their members, bit by bit; drinking the bitterest poisons, their fate yet holds them back from death. Thus those who found their joy in evil deeds, he saw receiving now their direst sorrow; a momentary taste of pleasure here, a dreary length of suffering there. A laugh or joke because of others' pain, a crying out and weeping now at punishment received. Surely if living creatures saw the consequence of all their evil deeds, self-visited, with hatred would they turn and leave them, fearing the ruin following—the blood and death. He saw, moreover, all the fruits of birth as beasts, each deed entailing its own return; and when death ensues born in some other form (beast shape), different in kind according to the deeds. Some doomed to die for the sake of skin or flesh, some for their horns or hair or bones or wings; others torn or killed in mutual conflict, friend or relative before, contending thus; some burdened with loads or dragging heavy weights, others pierced and urged on by pricking goads. Blood flowing down their tortured forms, parched and hungry—no relief afforded; then, turning round, he saw one with the other struggling, possessed of no independent strength. Flying through air or sunk in deep water, yet no place as a refuge left from death. He saw, moreover, those, misers and covetous, born now as hungry ghosts; vast bodies like the towering mountain, with mouths as small as any needle-tube, hungry and thirsty, nought but fire and poisoned flame to enwrap their burning forms within. Covetous, they would not give to those who sought, or duped the man who gave in charity, now born among the famished ghosts, they seek for food, but cannot find withal. The refuse of the unclean man they fain would eat, but this is changed and lost before it can be eaten. Oh! if a man believes that covetousness is thus repaid, as in their case, would he not give his very flesh in charity even as Sivi râga did! Then, once more he saw, those reborn as men, with bodies like some foul sewer, ever moving 'midst the direst sufferings, born from the womb to fear and trembling, with body tender, touching anything its feelings painful, as if cut with knives. Whilst born in this condition, no moment free from chance of death, labor, and sorrow, yet seeking birth again, and being born again, enduring pain. Then he saw those who by a higher merit were enjoying heaven; a thirst for love ever consuming them, their merit ended with the end of life, the five signs warning them of death. Just as the blossom that decays, withering away, is robbed of all its shining tints; not all their associates, living still, though grieving, can avail to save the rest. The palaces and joyous precincts empty now, the Devis all alone and desolate, sitting or asleep upon the dusty earth, weep bitterly in recollection of their loves. Those who are born, sad in decay; those who are dead, belovéd, cause of grief; thus ever struggling on, preparing future pain, covetous they seek the joys of heaven, obtaining which, these sorrows come apace; despicable joys! oh, who would covet them! using such mighty efforts to obtain, and yet unable thence to banish pain. Alas, alas! these Devas, too, alike deceived—no difference is there! through lapse of ages bearing suffering, striving to crush desire and lust, now certainly expecting long reprieve, and yet once more destined to fall! in hell enduring every kind of pain, as beasts tearing and killing one the other, as Pretas parched with direst thirst, as men worn out, seeking enjoyment; although, they say, when born in heaven, "then we shall escape these greater ills." Deceived, alas! no single place exempt, in every birth incessant pain! Alas! the sea of birth and death revolving thus—an ever-whirling wheel—all flesh immersed within its waves cast here and there without reliance! thus with his pure Deva eyes he thoughtfully considered the five domains of life. He saw that all was empty and vain alike! with no dependence! like the plantain or the bubble. Then, on the third eventful watch, he entered on the deep, true apprehension; he meditated on the entire world of creatures, whirling in life's tangle, born to sorrow; the crowds who live, grow old, and die, innumerable for multitude. Covetous, lustful, ignorant, darkly-fettered, with no way known for final rescue. Rightly considering, inwardly he reflected from what source birth and death proceed. He was assured that age and death must come from birth as from a source. For since a man has born with him a body, that body must inherit pain. Then looking further whence comes birth, he saw it came from life-deeds done elsewhere; then with his Deva-eyes scanning these deeds, he saw they were not framed by Isvara. They were not self-caused, they were not personal existences, nor were they either uncaused; then, as one who breaks the first bamboo joint finds all the rest easy to separate, having discerned the cause of birth and death, he gradually came to see the truth; deeds come from upâdâna, like as fire which catches hold of grass; upâdâna comes from trishnâ, just as a little fire inflames the mountains; trishnâ comes from vedanâ, the perception of pain and pleasure, the desire for rest; as the starving or the thirsty man seeks food and drink, so "sensation" brings "desire" for life; then contact is the cause of all sensation, producing the three kinds of pain or pleasure, even as by art of man the rubbing wood produces fire for any use or purpose; contact is born from the six entrances.[103 - The six organs of sense.] The six entrances are caused by name and thing, just as the germ grows to the stem and leaf; name and thing are born from knowledge, as the seed which germinates and brings forth leaves. Knowledge, in turn, proceeds from name and thing, the two are intervolved leaving no remnant; by some concurrent cause knowledge engenders name and thing, whilst by some other cause concurrent, name and thing engender knowledge. Just as a man and ship advance together, the water and the land mutually involved; thus knowledge brings forth name and thing; name and thing produce the roots. The roots engender contact; contact again brings forth sensation; sensation brings forth longing desire; longing desire produces upâdâna. Upâdâna is the cause of deeds; and these again engender birth; birth again produces age and death; so does this one incessant round cause the existence of all living things. Rightly illumined, thoroughly perceiving this, firmly established, thus was he enlightened; destroy birth, old age and death will cease; destroy bhava then will birth cease; destroy "cleaving" then will bhava end; destroy desire then will cleaving end; destroy sensation then will trishnâ end. Destroy contact then will end sensation; destroy the six entrances, then will contact cease; the six entrances all destroyed, from this, moreover, names and things will cease. Knowledge destroyed, names and things will cease; names and things destroyed, then knowledge perishes; ignorance destroyed, then the constituents of individual life will die; the great Rishi was thus perfected in wisdom. Thus perfected, Buddha then devised for the world's benefit the eightfold path, right sight, and so on, the only true path for the world to tread. Thus did he complete the end of "self," as fire goes out for want of grass; thus he had done what he would have men do; he first had found the way of perfect knowledge. He finished thus the first great lesson; entering the great Rishi's house (dreamless sleep), the darkness disappeared; light coming on, perfectly silent, all at rest, he reached at last the exhaustless source of truth; lustrous with all wisdom the great Rishi sat, perfect in gifts, whilst one convulsive throe shook the wide earth. And now the world was calm again and bright, when Devas, Nâgas, spirits, all assembled, amidst the void raise heavenly music, and make their offerings as the law directs. A gentle cooling breeze sprang up around, and from the sky a fragrant rain distilled; exquisite flowers, not seasonable, bloomed; sweet fruits before their time were ripened. Great Mandâras, and every sort of heavenly precious flower, from space in rich confusion fell, as tribute to the illustrious monk. Creatures of every different kind were moved one towards the other lovingly; fear and terror altogether put away, none entertained a hateful thought, and all things living in the world with faultless men consorted freely; the Devas giving up their heavenly joys, sought rather to alleviate the sinner's sufferings. Pain and distress grew less and less, the moon of wisdom waxed apace; whilst all the Rishis of the Ikshvâku clan who had received a heavenly birth, beholding Buddha thus benefitting men, were filled with joy and satisfaction; and whilst throughout the heavenly mansions religious offerings fell as raining flowers, the Devas and the Nâga spirits, with one voice, praised the Buddha's virtues; men seeing the religious offerings, hearing, too, the joyous hymn of praise, were all rejoiced in turn; they leapt for unrestrained joy; Mâra, the Devarâga, only, felt in his heart great anguish. Buddha for those seven days, in contemplation lost, his heart at peace, beheld and pondered on the Bodhi tree, with gaze unmoved and never wearying:—"Now resting here, in this condition, I have obtained," he said, "my ever-shifting heart's desire, and now at rest I stand, escaped from self." The eyes of Buddha then considered "all that lives," and forthwith rose there in him deep compassion; much he desired to bring about their welfare, but how to gain for them that most excellent deliverance, from covetous desire, hatred, ignorance, and false teaching, this was the question; how to suppress this sinful heart by right direction; not by anxious use of outward means, but by resting quietly in thoughtful silence. Now looking back and thinking of his mighty vow, there rose once more within his mind a wish to preach the law; and looking carefully throughout the world, he saw how pain and sorrow ripened and increased everywhere. Then Brahma-deva knowing his thoughts, and considering it right to request him to advance religion for the wider spread of the Brahma-glory, in the deliverance of all flesh from sorrow, coming, beheld upon the person of the reverend monk all the distinguishing marks of a great preacher, visible in an excellent degree; fixed and unmoved he sat in the possession of truth and wisdom, free from all evil impediments, with a heart cleansed from all insincerity or falsehood. Then with reverent and a joyful heart, great Brahma stood and with hands joined, thus made known his request:—"What happiness in all the world so great as when a loving master meets the unwise; the world with all its occupants, filled with impurity and dire confusion, with heavy grief oppressed, or, in some cases, lighter sorrows, waits deliverance; the lord of men, having escaped by crossing the wide and mournful sea of birth and death, we now entreat to rescue others—those struggling creatures all engulfed therein; as the just worldly man, when he gets profit, gives some rebate withal. So the lord of men enjoying such religious gain, should also give somewhat to living things. The world indeed is bent on large personal gain, and hard it is to share one's own with others. O! let your loving heart be moved with pity towards the world burdened with vexing cares." Thus having spoken by way of exhortation, with reverent mien he turned back to the Brahma heaven. Buddha, regarding the invitation of Brahma-deva, rejoiced at heart, and his design was strengthened; greatly was his heart of pity nourished, and purposed was his mind to preach. Thinking he ought to beg some food, each of the four kings offered him a Pâtra; Tathâgata, in fealty to religion, received the four and joined them all in one. And now some merchant men were passing by, to whom "a virtuous friend," a heavenly spirit, said: "The great Rishi, the venerable monk, is dwelling in this mountain-grove, affording in the world a noble field for merit; go then and offer him a sacrifice!" Hearing the summons, joyfully they went, and offered the first meal religiously. Having partaken of it, then he deeply pondered, who first should hear the law; he thought at once of Ârâda Kâlâma and Udraka Râmaputra, as being fit to accept the righteous law; but now they both were dead. Then next he thought of the five men, that they were fit to hear the first sermon. Bent then on this design to preach Nirvâna, as the sun's glory bursts through the darkness, so went he on towards Benares, the place where dwelt the ancient Rishis. With eyes as gentle as the ox king's, his pace as firm and even as the lion's, because he would convert the world he went on towards the Kâsi city. Step by step, like the king of beasts, did he advance watchfully through the grove of wisdom.

Turning the Law-wheel

Tathâgata piously composed and silent, radiant with glory, shedding light around, with unmatched dignity advanced alone, as if surrounded by a crowd of followers. Beside the way he encountered a young Brahman whose name was Upâka; struck with the deportment of the Bhikshu, he stood with reverent mien on the roadside. Joyously he gazed at such an unprecedented sight, and then, with closed hands, he spake as follows:—"The crowds who live around are stained with sin, without a pleasing feature, void of grace, and the great world's heart is everywhere disturbed; but you alone, your senses all composed, with visage shining as the moon when full, seem to have quaffed the water of the immortals' stream. The marks of beauty yours, as the great man's, the strength of wisdom, as an all-sufficient, independent king's; what you have done must have been wisely done: what then your noble tribe and who your master?" Answering he said, "I have no master; no honorable tribe; no point of excellence; self-taught in this profoundest doctrine, I have arrived at superhuman wisdom. That which behooves the world to learn, but through the world no learner found, I now myself and by myself have learned throughout; 'tis rightly called Sambodhi. That hateful family of griefs the sword of wisdom has destroyed; this then is what the world has named, and rightly named, the 'chiefest victory.' Through all Benares soon will sound the drum of life, no stay is possible—I have no name—nor do I seek profit or pleasure. But simply to declare the truth; to save men from pain, and to fulfil my ancient oath, to rescue all not yet delivered. The fruit of this my oath is ripened now, and I will follow out my ancient vow. Wealth, riches, self all given up, unnamed, I still am named 'Righteous Master.' And bringing profit to the world, I also have the name 'Great Teacher'; facing sorrows, not swallowed up by them, am I not rightly called 'Courageous Warrior?' If not a healer of diseases, what means the name of 'Good Physician?' Seeing the wanderer, not showing him the way, why then should I be called 'Good Master-guide?' Like as the lamp shines in the dark, without a purpose of its own, self-radiant, so burns the lamp of the Tathâgata, without the shadow of a personal feeling. Bore wood in wood, there must be fire; the wind blows of its own free self in space; dig deep and you will come to water; this is the rule of self-causation. All the Munis who perfect wisdom, must do so at Gayâ; and in the Kâsi country they must first turn the Wheel of Righteousness." The young Brahman Upâka, astonished, breathed the praise of such strange doctrine, and called to mind like thoughts he had before experienced; lost in thought at the wonderful occurrence, at every turning of the road he stopped to think; embarrassed in every step he took, Tathâgata proceeding slowly onwards, came to the city of Kâsi. The land so excellently adorned as the palace of Sakradevendra; the Ganges and Baranâ, two twin rivers flowed amidst; the woods and flowers and fruits so verdant, the peaceful cattle wandering together, the calm retreats free from vulgar noise, such was the place where the old Rishis dwelt. Tathâgata, glorious and radiant, redoubled the brightness of the place; the son of the Kaundinya tribe, and next Dasabalakâsyapa, and the third Vâshpa, the fourth Asvagit, the fifth called Bhadra, practising austerities as hermits, seeing from far Tathâgata approaching, sitting together all engaged in conversation, said: "This Gautama, defiled by worldly indulgence, leaving the practice of austerities, now comes again to find us here, let us be careful not to rise in salutation, nor let us greet him when he comes, nor offer him the customary refreshments. Because he has broken his first vow, he has no claim to hospitality"—for men on seeing an approaching guest by rights prepare things for his present and his after wants. They arrange a proper resting-couch, and take on themselves care for his comfort. Having spoken thus and so agreed, each kept his seat, resolved and fixed. And now Tathâgata slowly approached, when, lo! these men unconsciously, against their vow, rose and invited him to take a seat; offering to take his robe and Pâtra. They begged to wash and rub his feet, and asked him what he required more; thus in everything attentive, they honored him and offered all to him as teacher. They did not cease however to address him still as Gautama, after his family. Then spake the Lord to them and said: "Call me not after my private name, for it is a rude and careless way of speaking to one who has obtained Arhat-ship; but whether men respect or disrespect me, my mind is undisturbed and wholly quiet. But you—your way is not so courteous: let go, I pray, and cast away your fault. Buddha can save the world; they call him, therefore, Buddha. Towards all living things, with equal heart he looks as children, to call him then by his familiar name is to despise a father; this is sin." Thus Buddha, by exercise of mighty love, in deep compassion spoke to them; but they, from ignorance and pride, despised the only wise and true one's words. They said that first he practised self-denial, but having reached thereby no profit, now giving rein to body, word, and thought, how by these means, they asked, has he become a Buddha? Thus equally entangled by doubts, they would not credit that he had attained the way. Thoroughly versed in highest truth, full of all-embracing wisdom, Tagâgata on their account briefly declared to them the one true way; the foolish masters practising austerities, and those who love to gratify their senses, he pointed out to them these two distinctive classes, and how both greatly erred. "Neither of these," he said, "has found the way of highest wisdom, nor are their ways of life productive of true rescue. The emaciated devotee by suffering produces in himself confused and sickly thoughts, not conducive even to worldly knowledge, how much less to triumph over sense! For he who tries to light a lamp with water, will not succeed in scattering the darkness, and so the man who tries with worn-out body to trim the lamp of wisdom shall not succeed, nor yet destroy his ignorance or folly. Who seeks with rotten wood to evoke the fire will waste his labor and get nothing for it; but boring hard wood into hard, the man of skill forthwith gets fire for his use. In seeking wisdom then it is not by these austerities a man may reach the law of life. But to indulge in pleasure is opposed to right: this is the fool's barrier against wisdom's light. The sensualist cannot comprehend the Sûtras or the Sâstras, how much less the way of overcoming all desire! As some man grievously afflicted eats food not fit to eat, and so in ignorance aggravates his sickness, so can he get rid of lust who pampers lust? Scatter the fire amid the desert grass, dried by the sun, fanned by the wind—the raging flames who shall extinguish? Such is the fire of covetousness and lust. I, then, reject both these extremes: my heart keeps in the middle way. All sorrow at an end and finished, I rest at peace, all error put away; my true sight greater than the glory of the sun, my equal and unvarying wisdom, vehicle of insight—right words as it were a dwelling-place—wandering through the pleasant groves of right conduct, making a right life my recreation, walking along the right road of proper means, my city of refuge in right recollection, and my sleeping couch right meditation; these are the eight even and level roads by which to avoid the sorrows of birth and death. Those who come forth by these means from the slough, doing thus, have attained the end; such shall fall neither on this side or the other, amidst the sorrow-crowd of the two periods. The tangled sorrow-web of the three worlds by this road alone can be destroyed; this is my own way, unheard of before; by the pure eyes of the true law, impartially seeing the way of escape, I, only I, now first make known this way; thus I destroy the hateful company of Trishnâ's host, the sorrows of birth and death, old age, disease, and all the unfruitful aims of men, and other springs of suffering. There are those who warring against desire are still influenced by desire; who whilst possessed of body, act as though they had none; who put away from themselves all sources of true merit—briefly will I recount their sorrowful lot. Like smothering a raging fire, though carefully put out, yet a spark left, so in their abstraction, still the germ of 'I,' the source of great sorrow still surviving, perpetuates the suffering caused by lust, and the evil consequences of every kind of deed survive. These are the sources of further pain, but let these go and sorrow dies, even as the seed of corn taken from the earth and deprived of water dies; the concurrent causes not uniting, then the bud and leaf cannot be born; the intricate bonds of every kind of existence, from the Deva down to the evil ways of birth, ever revolve and never cease; all this is produced from covetous desire; falling from a high estate to lower ones, all is the fault of previous deeds. But destroy the seed of covetousness and the rest, then there will be no intricate binding, but all effect of deeds destroyed, the various degrees of sorrow then will end for good. Having this, then, we must inherit that; destroying this, then that is ended too; no birth, old age, disease, or death; no earth, or water, fire, or wind. No beginning, end, or middle; and no deceptive systems of philosophy; this is the standpoint of wise men and sages; the certain and exhausted termination, complete Nirvâna. Such do the eight right ways declare; this one expedient has no remains; that which the world sees not, engrossed by error I declare, I know the way to sever all these sorrow-sources; the way to end them is by right reason, meditating on these four highest truths, following and perfecting this highest wisdom. This is what means the 'knowing' sorrow; this is to cut off the cause of all remains of being; these destroyed, then all striving, too, has ended, the eight right ways have been assayed.

"Thus, too, the four great truths have been acquired, the eyes of the pure law completed. In these four truths, the equal, true or right, eyes not yet born, there is not mention made of gaining true deliverance; it is not said what must be done is done, nor that all is finished, nor that the perfect truth has been acquired. But now because the truth is known, then by myself is known 'deliverance gained,' by myself is known that 'all is done,' by myself is known 'the highest wisdom.'" And having spoken thus respecting truth, the member of the Kaundinya family, and eighty thousand of the Deva host, were thoroughly imbued with saving knowledge. They put away defilement from themselves, they got the eyes of the pure law; Devas and earthly masters thus were sure, that what was to be done was done. And now with lion-voice he joyfully inquired, and asked Kaundinya, "Knowest thou yet?" Kaundinya forthwith answered Buddha, "I know the mighty master's law." And for this reason, knowing it, his name was Âgnâta Kaundinya. Amongst all the disciples of Buddha, he was the very first in understanding. Then as he understood the sounds of the true law, hearing the words of the disciple—all the earth spirits together raised a shout triumphant, "Well done! deeply seeing the principles of the law, Tathâgata, on this auspicious day, has set revolving that which never yet revolved, and far and wide, for gods and men, has opened the gates of immortality. Of this wheel the spokes are the rules of pure conduct; equal contemplation, their uniformity of length; firm wisdom is the tire; modesty and thoughtfulness, the rubbers (sockets in the nave in which the axle is fixed); right reflection is the nave; the wheel itself the law of perfect truth; the right truth now has gone forth in the world, not to retire before another teacher."

Thus the earth spirits shouted, the spirits of the air took up the strain, the Devas all joined in the hymn of praise, up to the highest Brahma heaven. The Devas of the triple world, now hearing what the great Rishi taught, in intercourse together spoke, "The widely honored Buddha moves the world! Widespread, for the sake of all that lives, he turns the wheel of the law of complete purity!" The stormy winds, the clouds, the mists, all disappeared; down from space the heavenly flowers descended. The Devas revelled in their joys celestial, filled with unutterable gladness.

CHAPTER IV

Bimbisâra Râga Becomes a Disciple

And now those five men, Asvagit Vâshpa, and the others, having heard that he (Kaundinya) "knew" the law, with humble mien and self-subdued, their hands joined, offered their homage, and looked with reverence in the teacher's face. Tathâgata, by wise expedient, caused them one by one to embrace the law. And so from first to last the five Bhikshus obtained reason and subdued their senses, like the five stars which shine in heaven, waiting upon the brightening moon. At this time in the town of Ku-i there was a noble's son called Yasas; lost in night-sleep suddenly he woke, and when he saw his attendants all, men and women, with ill-clad bodies, sleeping, his heart was filled with loathing; reflecting on the root of sorrow, he thought how madly foolish men were immersed in it. Clothing himself, and putting on his jewels, he left his home and wandered forth; then on the way he stood and cried aloud, "Alas! alas! what endless chain of sorrows." Tathâgata, by night, was walking forth, and hearing sounds like these, "Alas! what sorrow," forthwith replied, "You are welcome! here, on the other hand, there is a place of rest—the most excellent, refreshing, Nirvâna, quiet and unmoved, free from sorrow." Yasas hearing Buddha's exhortation, there rose much joy within his heart. And in the place of the disgust he felt, the cooling streams of holy wisdom found their way, as when one enters first a cold pellucid lake. Advancing then, he came where Buddha was—his person decked with common ornaments, his mind already freed from all defects; by power of the good root obtained in other births, he quickly reached the fruit of an Arhat. The secret light of pure wisdom's virtue enabled him to understand, on listening to the law; just as a pure silken fabric with ease is dyed a different color. Thus having attained to self-illumination, and done that which was to be done, he was converted; then looking at his person richly ornamented, his heart was filled with shame. Tathâgata knowing his inward thoughts, in gâthas spoke the following words: "Though ornamented with jewels, the heart may yet have conquered sense; looking with equal mind on all that lives, in such a case the outward form does not affect religion; the body, too, may wear the ascetic's garb, the heart, meanwhile, be immersed in worldly thoughts; dwelling in lonely woods, yet covetous of worldly show, such men are after all mere worldlings; the body may have a worldly guise, the heart mount high to things celestial. The layman and the hermit are the same, when only both have banished thought of 'self,' but if the heart be twined with carnal bonds, what use the marks of bodily attention? He who wears martial decorations, does so because by valor he has triumphed o'er an enemy—so he who wears the hermit's colored robe, does so for having vanquished sorrow as his foe." Then he bade him come, and be a member of his church; and at the bidding, lo! his garments changed! and he stood wholly attired in hermit's dress, complete; in heart and outward look, a Sramana. Now Yasas had in former days some light companions, in number fifty and four; when these beheld their friend a hermit, they, too, one by one, attained true wisdom. By virtue of deeds done in former births, these deeds now bore their perfect fruit. Just as when burning ashes are sprinkled by water, the water being dried, the flame bursts forth. So now, with those above, the disciples were altogether sixty, all Arhats; entirely obedient and instructed in the law of perfect discipleship. So perfected he taught them further:—"Now ye have passed the stream and reached 'the other shore,' across the sea of birth and death; what should be done, ye now have done! and ye may now receive the charity of others. Go then through every country, convert those not yet converted; throughout the world that lies burnt up with sorrow, teach everywhere; instruct those lacking right instruction. Go, therefore! each one travelling by himself; filled with compassion, go! rescue and receive. I too will go alone, back to yonder Kia-ke mountain; where there are great Rishis, royal Rishis, Brahman Rishis too, these all dwell there, influencing men according to their schools. The Rishi Kâsyapa, enduring pain, reverenced by all the country, making converts too of many, him will I visit and convert." Then the sixty Bhikshus respectfully receiving orders to preach, each according to his fore-determined purpose, following his inclination, went through every land. The honored of the world went on alone, till he arrived at the Kia-ke mountain, then entering a retired religious dell, he came to where the Rishi Kâsyapa was. Now this one had a "fire grot" where he offered sacrifice, where an evil Nâga dwelt, who wandered here and there in search of rest, through mountains and wild places of the earth. The honored of the world, wishing to instruct this hermit and convert him, asked him, on coming, for a place to lodge that night. Kâsyapa, replying, spake to Buddha thus:—"I have no resting-place to offer for the night, only this fire grot where I sacrifice; this is a cool and fit place for the purpose, but an evil dragon dwells there, who is accustomed, as he can, to poison men." Buddha replied, "Permit me only, and for the night I'll take my dwelling there." Kâsyapa made many difficulties, but the world-honored one still asked the favor. Then Kâsyapa addressed Buddha, "My mind desires no controversy, only I have my fears and apprehensions, but follow you your own good pleasure." Buddha forthwith stepped within the fiery grot, and took his seat with dignity and deep reflection; and now the evil Nâga seeing Buddha, belched forth in rage his fiery poison, and filled the place with burning vapor. But this could not affect the form of Buddha. Throughout the abode the fire consumed itself, the honored of the world still sat composed: Even as Brahma, in the midst of the kalpa-fire that burns and reaches to the Brahma heavens, still sits unmoved, without a thought of fear or apprehension, so Buddha sat; the evil Nâga seeing him, his face glowing with peace, and still unchanged, ceased his poisonous blast, his heart appeased; he bent his head and worshipped. Kâsyapa in the night seeing the fire-glow, sighed:—"Ah! alas! what misery! this most distinguished man is also burnt up by the fiery Nâga." Then Kâsyapa and his followers at morning light came one and all to look. Now Buddha having subdued the evil Nâga, had straightway placed him in his pâtra, beholding which, and seeing the power of Buddha, Kâsyapa conceived within him deep and secret thoughts:—"This Gotama," he thought, "is deeply versed in religion, but still he said, 'I am a master of religion.'" Then Buddha, as occasion offered, displayed all kinds of spiritual changes, influencing Kâsyapa's heart-thoughts, changing and subduing them, making his mind pliant and yielding, until at length prepared to be a vessel of the true law, he confessed that his poor wisdom could not compare with the complete wisdom of the world-honored one. And so, convinced at last, humbly submitting, he accepted right instruction. Thus U-pi-lo Uravilva Kâsyapa, and five hundred of his followers following their master, virtuously submissive, in turn received the teaching of the law. Kâsyapa and all his followers were thus entirely converted. The Rishi then, taking his goods and all his sacrificial vessels, threw them together in the river, which floated down upon the surface of the current. Nadi and Gada, brothers, who dwelt down the stream, seeing these articles of clothing and the rest floating along the stream disorderly, said, "Some great change has happened," and deeply pained, were restlessly concerned. The two, each with five hundred followers, going up the stream to seek their brother. Seeing him now dressed as a hermit, and all his followers with him, having got knowledge of the miraculous law—strange thoughts engaged their minds—"our brother having submitted thus, we too should also follow him." Thus the three brothers, with all their band of followers, were brought to hear the lord's discourse on the comparison of a fire sacrifice: and in the discourse he taught, "How the dark smoke of ignorance arises, whilst confused thoughts, like wood drilled into wood, create the fire. Lust, anger, delusion, these are as fire produced, and these inflame and burn all living things. Thus the fire of grief and sorrow, once enkindled, ceases not to burn, ever giving rise to birth and death; but whilst this fire of sorrow ceases not, yet are there two kinds of fire, one that burns but has no fuel left. So when the heart of man has once conceived distaste for sin, this distaste removing covetous desire, covetous desire extinguished, there is rescue; if once this rescue has been found, then with it is born sight and knowledge, by which distinguishing the streams of birth and death, and practising pure conduct, all is done that should be done, and hereafter shall be no more life." Thus the thousand Bhikshus hearing the world-honored preach, all defects forever done away, their minds found perfect and complete deliverance. Then Buddha for the Kâsyapas' sakes, and for the benefit of the thousand Bhikshus, having preached, and done all that should be done, himself with purity and wisdom and all the concourse of high qualities excellently adorned, he gave them, as in charity, rules for cleansing sense. The great Rishi, listening to reason, lost all regard for bodily austerities, and, as a man without a guide, was emptied of himself, and learned discipleship. And now the honored one and all his followers go forward to the royal city (Râgagriha), remembering, as he did, the Magadha king, and what he heretofore had promised. The honored one when he arrived, remained within the "staff grove"; Bimbisâra Râga hearing thereof, with all his company of courtiers, lords and ladies all surrounding him, came to where the master was. Then at a distance seeing Buddha seated, with humbled heart and subdued presence, putting off his common ornaments, descending from his chariot, forward he stepped; even as Sakra, king of gods, going to where Brahmadeva-râga dwells. Bowing down at Buddha's feet, he asked him, with respect, about his health of body; Buddha in his turn, having made inquiries, begged him to be seated on one side. Then the king's mind reflected silently:—"This Sâkya must have great controlling power, to subject to his will these Kâsyapas who now are round him as disciples." Buddha, knowing all thoughts, spoke thus to Kâsyapa, questioning him:—"What profit have you found in giving up your fire-adoring law?" Kâsyapa hearing Buddha's words, rising with dignity before the great assembly, bowed lowly down, and then with clasped hands and a loud voice addressing Buddha, said:—"The profit I received, adoring the fire spirit, was this—continuance in the wheel of life, birth and death, with all their sorrows growing—this service I have therefore cast away. Diligently I persevered in fire-worship, seeking to put an end to the five desires, in return I found desires endlessly increasing: therefore have I cast off this service. Sacrificing thus to fire with many Mantras, I did but miss escape from birth; receiving birth, with it came all its sorrows, therefore I cast it off and sought for rest. I was versed, indeed, in self-affliction, my mode of worship largely adopted, and counted of all most excellent, and yet I was opposed to highest wisdom. Therefore have I discarded it, and gone in quest of the supreme Nirvâna. Removing from me birth, old age, disease, and death, I sought a place of undying rest and calm. And as I gained the knowledge of this truth, then I cast off the law of worshipping the fire."

The honored-of-the-world, hearing Kâsyapa declaring his experience of truth, wishing to move the world throughout to conceive a heart of purity and faith, addressing Kâsyapa further, said: "Welcome! great master, welcome! Rightly have you distinguished law from law, and well obtained the highest wisdom; now before this great assembly, pray you! exhibit your excellent endowments; as any rich and wealthy noble opens for view his costly treasures, causing the poor and sorrow-laden multitude to increase their forgetfulness awhile; and honor well your lord's instruction." Forthwith in presence of the assembly, gathering up his body and entering Samâdhi, calmly he ascended into space, and there displayed himself, walking, standing, sitting, sleeping, emitting fiery vapor from his body, on his right and left side water and fire, not burning and not moistening him. Then clouds and rain proceeded from him, thunder with lightning shook the heaven and earth; thus he drew the world to look in adoration, with eyes undazzled as they gazed; with different mouths, but all in language one, they magnified and praised this wondrous spectacle, then afterwards drawn by spiritual force, they came and worshipped at the master's feet, exclaiming:—"Buddha is our great teacher! we are the honored one's disciples." Thus having magnified his work and finished all he purposed doing, drawing the world as universal witness, the assembly was convinced that he, the world-honored, was truly the "Omniscient!" Buddha, perceiving that the whole assembly was ready as a vessel to receive the law, spoke thus to Bimbisâra Râga: "Listen now and understand: The mind, the thoughts, and all the senses are subject to the law of life and death. This fault of birth and death, once understood, then there is clear and plain perception. Obtaining this clear perception, then there is born knowledge of self; knowing oneself and with this knowledge laws of birth and death, then there is no grasping and no sense-perception. Knowing oneself, and understanding how the senses act, then there is no room for 'I' (soul) or ground for framing it; then all the accumulated mass of sorrow, sorrows born from life and death, being recognized as attributes of body, and as this body is not 'I,' nor offers ground for 'I,' then comes the great superlative, the source of peace unending. This thought of 'self' gives rise to all these sorrows, binding as with cords the world, but having found there is no 'I' that can be bound, then all these bonds are severed. There are no bonds indeed—they disappear—and seeing this there is deliverance. The world holds to this thought of 'I,' and so, from this, comes false apprehension. Of those who maintain the truth of it, some say the 'I' endures, some say it perishes; taking the two extremes of birth and death, their error is most grievous! For if they say the 'I' is perishable, the fruit they strive for, too, will perish; and at some time there will be no hereafter: this is indeed a meritless deliverance. But if they say the 'I' is not to perish, then in the midst of all this life and death there is but one identity as space, which is not born and does not die. If this is what they call the 'I,' then are all things living, one—for all have this unchanging self—not perfected by any deeds, but self-perfect. If so, if such a self it is that acts, let there be no self-mortifying conduct, the self is lord and master; what need to do that which is done? For if this 'I' is lasting and imperishable, then reason would teach it never can be changed. But now we see the marks of joy and sorrow, what room for constancy then is here? Knowing that birth brings this deliverance then I put away all thought of sin's defilement; the whole world, everything, endures! what then becomes of this idea of rescue? We cannot even talk of putting self away, truth is the same as falsehood; it is not 'I' that do a thing, and who, forsooth, is he that talks of 'I'? But if it is not 'I' that do the thing, then there is no 'I' that does it, and in the absence of these both, there is no 'I' at all, in very truth. No doer and no knower, no lord, yet notwithstanding this, there ever lasts this birth and death, like morn and night ever recurring. But now attend to me and listen: The senses six and their six objects united cause the six kinds of knowledge, these three united bring forth contact, then the intervolved effects of recollection follow. Then like the burning glass and tinder through the sun's power cause fire to appear, so through the knowledge born of sense and object, the lord of knowledge (self) is born. The shoot springs from the seed, the seed is not the shoot, not one and yet not different: such is the birth of all that lives." The honored of the world preaching the truth, the equal and impartial paramârtha, thus addressed the king with all his followers. Then King Bimbisâra filled with joy, removing from himself defilement, gained religious sight, a hundred thousand spirits also, hearing the words of the immortal law, shook off and lost the stain of sin.

The Great Disciple Becomes a Hermit

At this time Bimbisâra Râga, bowing his head, requested the honored of the world to change his place of abode for the bamboo grove; graciously accepting it, Buddha remained silent. Then the king, having perceived the truth, offered his adoration and returned to his palace. The world-honored, with the great congregation, proceeded on foot, to rest for awhile in the bamboo garden. There he dwelt to convert all that breathed, to kindle once for all the lamp of wisdom, to establish Brahma and the Devas, and to confirm the lives of saints and sages. At this time Asvagit and Vâshpa, with heart composed and every sense subdued, the time having come for begging food, entered into the town of Râgagriha. Unrivalled in the world were they for grace of person, and in dignity of carriage excelling all. The lords and ladies of the city seeing them, were filled with joy; those who were walking stood still, those before waited, those behind hastened on. Now the Rishi Kapila amongst all his numerous disciples had one of wide-spread fame, whose name was Sâriputra; he, beholding the wonderful grace of the Bhikshus, their composed mien and subdued senses, their dignified walk and carriage, raising his hands, inquiring, said: "Young in years, but pure and graceful in appearance, such as I before have never seen. What law most excellent have you obeyed? and who your master that has taught you? and what the doctrine you have learned? Tell me, I pray you, and relieve my doubts." Then of the Bhikshus, one, rejoicing at his question, with pleasing air and gracious words, replied: "The omniscient, born of the Ikshvâku family, the very first 'midst gods and men, this one is my great master. I am indeed but young, the sun of wisdom has but just arisen, how can I then explain the master's doctrine? Its meaning is deep and very hard to understand, but now, according to my poor wisdom, I will recount in brief the master's doctrine:—'Whatever things exist all spring from cause, the principles of birth and death may be destroyed, the way is by the means he has declared.'" Then the twice-born Upata, embracing heartily what he had heard, put from him all sense-pollution, and obtained the pure eyes of the law. The former explanations he had trusted, respecting cause and what was not the cause that there was nothing that was made, but was made by Isvara; all this, now that he had heard the rule of true causation, understanding the wisdom of the no-self, adding thereto the knowledge of the minute dust troubles, which can never be overcome in their completeness but by the teaching of Tathâgata, all this he now forever put away; leaving no room for thought of self, the thought of self will disappear. Who, when the brightness of the sun gives light, would call for the dimness of the lamp? for, like the severing the lotus, the stem once cut, the pods will also die. "So Buddha's teaching cutting off the stem of sorrow, no seeds are left to grow or lead to further increase." Then bowing at the Bhikshu's feet, with grateful mien, he wended homewards. The Bhikshus after having begged their food, likewise went back to the bamboo grove. Sâriputra on his arrival home rested with joyful face and full of peace. His friend, the honored Mugalin, equally renowned for learning, seeing Sâriputra in the distance, his pleasing air and lightsome step, spoke thus:—"As I now see thee, there is an unusual look I notice; your former nature seems quite changed, the signs of happiness I now observe, all indicate the possession of eternal truth: these marks are not uncaused." Answering he said: "The words of the Tathâgata are such as never yet were spoken," and then, requested, he declared what he had heard. Hearing the words and understanding them, he too put off the world's defilement, and gained the eyes of true religion, the reward of a long-planted virtuous cause; and, as one sees by a lamp that comes to hand, so he obtained an unmoved faith in Buddha; and now they both set out for Buddha's presence, with a large crowd of followers. Buddha seeing the two worthies coming, thus spoke to his disciples:—"These two men who come shall be my two most eminent followers, one unsurpassed for wisdom, the other for powers miraculous." And then with Brahma's voice, profound and sweet, he forthwith bade them "Welcome!" Here is the pure and peaceful law, he said; here the end of all discipleship! Their hands grasping the triple-staff, their twisted hair holding the water-vessel, hearing the words of Buddha's welcome, they forthwith changed into complete Sramanas; the leaders two and all their followers, assuming the complete appearance of Bhikshus, with prostrate forms fell down at Buddha's feet, then rising, sat beside him, and with obedient heart listening to the word, they all became Arhats. At this time there was a twice-born sage, Kâsyapa Shi-ming-teng, celebrated and perfect in person, rich in possessions, and his wife most virtuous. But all this he had left and become a hermit, seeking the way of salvation. And now in the way by the To-tseu tower he suddenly encountered Sâkya Muni, remarkable for his dignified and illustrious appearance, as the embroidered flag of a temple. Respectfully and reverently approaching, with head bowed down, he worshipped his feet, whilst he said: "Truly, honored one, you are my teacher, and I am your follower: much and long time have I been harassed with doubts, oh! would that you would light the lamp of knowledge." Buddha knowing that this twice-born sage was heartily desirous of finding the best mode of escape, with soft and pliant voice, he bade him come and welcome. Hearing his bidding and his heart complying, losing all listlessness of body or spirit, his soul embraced the terms of this most excellent salvation. Quiet and calm, putting away defilement, the great merciful, as he alone knew how, briefly explained the mode of this deliverance, exhibiting the secrets of his law, ending with the four indestructible acquirements. The great sage, everywhere celebrated, was called Mahâ Kâsyapa. His original faith was that "body and soul are different," but he had also held that they are the same; that there was both "I" and a place for "I"; but now he forever cast away his former faith, and considered only that "sorrow" is ever accumulating; so by removing sorrow there will be "no remains"; obedience to the precepts and the practice of discipline, though not themselves the cause, yet he considered these the necessary mode by which to find deliverance. With equal and impartial mind, he considered the nature of sorrow, for evermore freed from a cleaving heart. Whether we think "this is" or "this is not" he thought, both tend to produce a listless, idle mode of life. But when with equal mind we see the truth, then certainty is produced and no more doubt. If we rely for support on wealth or form, then wild confusion and concupiscence result: inconstant and impure. But lust and covetous desire removed, the heart of love and equal thoughts produced, there can be then no enemies or friends, but the heart is pitiful and kindly disposed to all, and thus is destroyed the power of anger and of hate. Trusting to outward things and their relationships, then crowding thoughts of every kind are gendered. Reflecting well, and crushing out confusing thought, then lust for pleasure is destroyed. Though born in the Arûpa world he saw that there would be a remnant of life still left; unacquainted with the four right truths, he had felt an eager longing for this deliverance, for the quiet resulting from the absence of all thought. And now putting away forever covetous desire for such a formless state of being, his restless heart was agitated still, as the stream is excited by the rude wind. Then entering on deep reflection in quiet he subdued his troubled mind, and realized the truth of there being no "self," and that therefore birth and death are no realities; but beyond this point he rose not: his thought of "self" destroyed, all else was lost. But now the lamp of wisdom lit, the gloom of every doubt dispersed, he saw an end to that which seemed without an end; ignorance finally dispelled, he considered the ten points of excellence; the ten seeds of sorrow destroyed, he came once more to life, and what he ought to do, he did. And now regarding with reverence the face of his lord, he put away the three and gained the three; so were there three disciples in addition to the three; and as the three stars range around the Trayastrimsas heaven, waiting upon the three and five, so the three wait on Buddha.

Conversion of the "Supporter of the Orphans and Destitute"

At this time there was a great householder whose name was "Friend of the Orphaned and Destitute"; he was very rich and widely charitable in helping the poor and needy. Now this man, coming far away from the north, even from the country of Kosala, stopped at the house of a friend whose name was Sheu-lo. Hearing that Buddha was in the world and dwelling in the bamboo grove near at hand, understanding moreover his renown and illustrious qualities, he set out that very night for the grove. Tathâgata, well aware of his character, and that he was prepared to bring forth purity and faith, according to the case, called him by his true name, and for his sake addressed him in words of religion:—"Having rejoiced in the true law, and being humbly desirous for a pure and believing heart, thou hast overcome desire for sleep, and art here to pay me reverence. Now then will I for your sake discharge fully the duties of a first meeting. In your former births the root of virtue planted firm in pure and rare expectancy, hearing now the name of Buddha, you rejoiced because you are a vessel fit for righteousness, humble in mind, but large in gracious deeds, abundant in your charity to the poor and helpless. The name you possess widespread and famous, the just reward of former merit, the deeds you now perform are done of charity: done with the fullest purpose and of single heart. Now, therefore, take from me the charity of perfect rest, and for this end accept my rules of purity. My rules are full of grace, able to rescue from destruction, and cause a man to ascend to heaven and share in all its pleasures. But yet to seek for these is a great evil, for lustful longing in its increase brings much sorrow. Practise then the art of 'giving up' all search, for 'giving up' desire is the joy of perfect rest. Know then! that age, disease, and death, these are the great sorrows of the world. Rightly considering the world, we put away birth and old age, disease and death; but now because we see that men at large inherit sorrow caused by age, disease, and death, we gather that when born in heaven, the case is also thus; for there is no continuance there for any, and where there is no continuance there is sorrow, and having sorrow there is no 'true self.' And if the state of 'no continuance' and of sorrow is opposed to 'self,' what room is there for such idea or ground for self? Know then! that 'sorrow' is this very sorrow and its repetition is 'accumulation'; destroy this sorrow and there is joy, the way is in the calm and quiet place. The restless busy nature of the world, this I declare is at the root of pain. Stop then the end by choking up the source. Desire not either life or its opposite; the raging fire of birth, old age, and death burns up the world on every side. Seeing the constant toil of birth and death we ought to strive to attain a passive state: the final goal of Sammata, the place of immortality and rest. All is empty! neither 'self,' nor place for 'self,' but all the world is like a phantasy; this is the way to regard ourselves, as but a heap of composite qualities."

The nobleman, hearing the spoken law, forthwith attained the first degree of holiness: he emptied as it were, the sea of birth and death, one drop alone remaining. By practising, apart from men, the banishment of all desire, he soon attained the one impersonal condition, not as common folk do now-a-day who speculate upon the mode of true deliverance; for he who does not banish sorrow-causing samskâras does but involve himself in every kind of question; and though he reaches to the highest form of being, yet grasps not the one and only truth. Erroneous thoughts as to the joy of heaven are still entwined by the fast cords of lust. The nobleman attending to the spoken law the cloud of darkness opened before the shining splendor. Thus he attained true sight, erroneous views forever dissipated; even as the furious winds of autumn sway to and fro and scatter all the heaped-up clouds. He argued not that Isvara was cause, nor did he advocate some cause heretical, nor yet again did he affirm there was no cause for the beginning of the world. "If the world was made by Isvara deva, there should be neither young nor old, first nor after, nor the five ways of birth; and when once born there should be no destruction. Nor should there be such thing as sorrow or calamity, nor doing wrong nor doing right; for all, both pure and impure deeds, these must come from Isvara deva. Again, if Isvara deva made the world there should be never doubt about the fact, even as a son born of his father ever confesses him and pays him reverence. Men when pressed by sore calamity ought not to rebel against him, but rather reverence him completely, as the self-existent. Nor ought they to adore more gods than one. Again, if Isvara be the maker he should not be called the self-existent, because in that he is the maker now he always should have been the maker; but if ever making, then ever self-remembering, and therefore not the self-existent one—and if he made without a purpose then is he like the sucking child; but if he made having an ever prompting purpose, then is he not, with such a purpose, self-existent? Sorrow and joy spring up in all that lives, these at least are not the works of Isvara; for if he causes grief and joy, he must himself have love and hate; but if he loves unduly, or has hatred, he cannot properly be named the self-existent. Again, if Isvara be the maker, all living things should silently submit, patient beneath the maker's power, and then what use to practise virtue? Twere equal, then, the doing right or wrong: there should be no reward of works; the works themselves being his making, then all things are the same with him, the maker, but if all things are one with him, then our deeds, and we who do them, are also self-existent. But if Isvara be uncreated, then all things, being one with him, are uncreated. But if you say there is another cause beside him as creator, then Isvara is not the 'end of all'; Isvara, who ought to be inexhaustible, is not so, and therefore all that lives may after all be uncreated—without a maker. Thus, you see, the thought of Isvara is overthrown in this discussion; and all such contradictory assertions should be exposed; if not, the blame is ours. Again, if it be said self-nature is the maker, this is as faulty as the first assertion; nor has either of the Hetuvidyâ sâstras asserted such a thing as this, till now. That which depends on nothing cannot as a cause make that which is; but all things round us come from a cause, as the plant comes from the seed; we cannot therefore say that all things are produced by self-nature. Again, all things which exist spring not from one nature as a cause; and yet you say self-nature is but one: it cannot then be cause of all. If you say that that self-nature pervades and fills all places, if it pervades and fills all things, then certainly it cannot make them too; for there would be nothing, then, to make, and therefore this cannot be the cause. If, again, it fills all places and yet makes all things that exist, then it should throughout 'all time' have made forever that which is. But if you say it made things thus, then there is nothing to be made 'in time'; know then, for certain, self-nature cannot be the cause of all. Again, they say that that self-nature excludes all modifications, therefore all things made by it ought likewise to be free from modifications. But we see, in fact, that all things in the world are fettered throughout by modifications; therefore, again, we say that self-nature cannot be the cause of all. If, again, you say that that self-nature is different from such qualities, we answer, since self-nature must have ever caused, it cannot differ in its nature from itself; but if the world be different from these qualities, then self-nature cannot be the cause. Again, if self-nature be unchangeable, so things should also be without decay; if we regard self-nature as the cause, then cause and consequence of reason should be one; but because we see decay in all things, we know that they at least are caused. Again, if self-nature be the cause, why should we seek to find 'escape'? for we ourselves possess this nature; patient then should we endure both birth and death. For let us take the case that one may find 'escape,' self-nature still will reconstruct the evil of birth. If self-nature in itself be blind, yet 'tis the maker of the world that sees. On this account, again, it cannot be the maker, because, in this case, cause and effect would differ in their character, but in all the world around us, cause and effect go hand in hand. Again, if self-nature have no aim, it cannot cause that which has such purpose. We know on seeing smoke there must be fire, and cause and result are ever classed together thus. We are forbidden, then, to say an unthinking cause can make a thing that has intelligence. The gold of which the cup is made is gold throughout from first to last, self-nature, then, that makes these things, from first to last must permeate all it makes. Once more, if 'time' is maker of the world, 'twere needless then to seek 'escape,' for 'time' is constant and unchangeable: let us in patience bear the 'intervals' of time. The world in its successions has no limits, the 'intervals' of time are boundless also. Those then who practise a religious life need not rely on 'methods' or 'expedients.' The To-lo-piu Kiu-na, the one strange Sâstra in the world, although it has so many theories, yet still, be it known, it is opposed to any single cause. But if, again, you say that 'self' is maker, then surely self should make things pleasingly; but now things are not pleasing for oneself, how then is it said that self is maker? But if he did not wish to make things so, then he who wishes for things pleasing, is opposed to self, the maker. Sorrow and joy are not self-existing, how can these be made by self? But if we allow that self was maker, there should not be, at least, an evil karman; but yet our deeds produce results both good and evil; know then that 'self' cannot be maker. But perhaps you say 'self' is the maker according to occasion, and then the occasion ought to be for good alone. But as good and evil both result from 'cause,' it cannot be that 'self' has made it so. But if you adopt the argument—there is no maker—then it is useless practising expedients; all things are fixed and certain of themselves: what good to try to make them otherwise? Deeds of every kind, done in the world, do, notwithstanding, bring forth every kind of fruit; therefore we argue all things that exist are not without some cause or other. There is both 'mind' and 'want of mind'—all things come from fixed causation; the world and all therein is not the result of 'nothing' as a cause." The nobleman, his heart receiving light, perceived throughout the most excellent system of truth. Simple, and of wisdom born; thus firmly settled in the true doctrine he lowly bent in worship at the feet of Buddha and with closed hands made his request:—

"I dwell indeed at Srâvasti, a land rich in produce, and enjoying peace; Prasenagit is the great king thereof, the offspring of the 'lion' family; his high renown and fame spread everywhere, reverenced by all both far and near. Now am I wishful there to found a Vihâra, I pray you of your tenderness accept it from me. I know the heart of Buddha has no preferences, nor does he seek a resting-place from labor, but on behalf of all that lives refuse not my request."

Buddha, knowing the householder's heart, that his great charity was now the moving cause—untainted and unselfish charity, nobly considerate of the heart of all that lives—he said:

"Now you have seen the true doctrine, your guileless heart loves to exercise its charity: for wealth and money are inconstant treasures, 'twere better quickly to bestow such things on others. For when a treasury has been burnt, whatever precious things may have escaped the fire, the wise man, knowing their inconstancy, gives freely, doing acts of kindness with his saved possessions. But the niggard guards them carefully, fearing to lose them, worn by anxiety, but never fearing 'inconstancy,' and that accumulated sorrow, when he loses all! There is a proper time and a proper mode in charity; just as the vigorous warrior goes to battle, so is the man 'able to give'—he also is an able warrior; a champion strong and wise in action. The charitable man is loved by all, well-known and far-renowned! his friendship prized by the gentle and the good, in death his heart at rest and full of joy! He suffers no repentance, no tormenting fear, nor is he born a wretched ghost or demon! this is the opening flower of his reward, the fruit that follows—hard to conjecture! In all the six conditions born there is no sweet companion like pure charity; if born a Deva or a man, then charity brings worship and renown on every hand; if born among the lower creatures, the result of charity will follow in contentment got; wisdom leads the way to fixed composure without dependence and without number, and if we even reach the immortal path, still by continuous acts of charity we fulfil ourselves in consequence of kindly charity done elsewhere. Training ourselves in the eightfold path of recollection, in every thought the heart is filled with joy; firm fixed in holy contemplation, by meditation still we add to wisdom, able to see aright the cause of birth and death; having beheld aright the cause of these, then follows in due order perfect deliverance. The charitable man discarding earthly wealth, nobly excludes the power of covetous desire; loving and compassionate now, he gives with reverence and banishes all hatred, envy, anger. So plainly may we see the fruit of charity, putting away all covetous and unbelieving ways, the bands of sorrow all destroyed: this is the fruit of kindly charity. Know then! the charitable man has found the cause of final rescue; even as the man who plants the sapling thereby secures the shade, the flowers, the fruit of the tree full grown; the result of charity is even so, its reward is joy and the great Nirvâna. The charity which un-stores wealth leads to returns of well-stored fruit. Giving away our food we get more strength, giving away our clothes we get more beauty, founding religious rest-places we reap the perfect fruit of the best charity. There is a way of giving, seeking pleasure by it; there is a way of giving, coveting to get more; some also give away to get a name for charity, others to get the happiness of heaven, others to avoid the pain of being poor hereafter, but yours, O friend! is a charity without such thoughts: the highest and the best degree of charity, without self-interest or thought of getting more. What your heart inclines you now to do, let it be quickly done and well completed! The uncertain and the lustful heart goes wandering here and there, but the pure eyes of virtue opening, the heart comes back and rests!" The nobleman accepting Buddha's teaching, his kindly heart receiving yet more light.

He invited Upatishya, his excellent friend, to accompany him on his return to Kosala; and then going round to select a pleasant site, he saw the garden of the heir-apparent, Geta, the groves and limpid streams most pure. Proceeding where the prince was dwelling, he asked for leave to buy the ground; the prince, because he valued it so much, at first was not inclined to sell, but said at last:—"If you can cover it with gold then, but not else, you may possess it."

The nobleman, his heart rejoicing, forthwith began to spread his gold. Then Geta said: "I will not give, why then spread you your gold?" The nobleman replied, "Not give; why then said you, 'Fill it with yellow gold'?" And thus they differed and contended both, till they resorted to the magistrate.

Meanwhile the people whispered much about his unwonted charity, and Geta too, knowing the man's sincerity, asked more about the matter: what his reasons were. On his reply, "I wish to found a Vihâra, and offer it to the Tathâgata and all his Bhikshu followers," the prince, hearing the name of Buddha, received at once illumination, and only took one-half the gold, desiring to share in the foundation: "Yours is the land," he said, "but mine the trees; these will I give to Buddha as my share in the offering." Then the noble took the land, Geta the trees, and settled both in trust on Sâriputra. Then they began to build the hall, laboring night and day to finish it. Lofty it rose and choicely decorated, as one of the four kings' palaces, in just proportions, following the directions which Buddha had declared the right ones. Never yet so great a miracle as this! the priests shone in the streets of Srâvasti! Tathâgata, seeing the divine shelter, with all his holy ones resorted to the place to rest. No followers there to bow in prostrate service, his followers rich in wisdom only. The nobleman reaping his reward, at the end of life ascended up to heaven, leaving to sons and grandsons a good foundation, through successive generations, to plough the field of merit.

Interview between Father and Son

Buddha in the Magadha country employing himself in converting all kinds of unbelievers, entirely changed them by the one and self-same law he preached, even as the sun drowns with its brightness all the stars. Then leaving the city of the five mountains with the company of his thousand disciples, and with a great multitude who went before and came after him, he advanced towards the Ni-kin mountain, near Kapilavastu; and there he conceived in himself a generous purpose to prepare an offering according to his religious doctrine to present to his father, the king. And now, in anticipation of his coming, the royal teacher and the chief minister had sent forth certain officers and their attendants to observe on the right hand and the left what was taking place; and they soon espied him (Buddha) as he advanced or halted on the way. Knowing that Buddha was now returning to his country they hastened back and quickly announced the tidings, "The prince who wandered forth afar to obtain enlightenment, having fulfilled his aim, is now coming back." The king hearing the news was greatly rejoiced, and forthwith went out with his gaudy equipage to meet his son; and the whole body of gentry belonging to the country, went forth with him in his company. Gradually advancing he beheld Buddha from afar, his marks of beauty sparkling with splendor twofold greater than of yore; placed in the middle of the great congregation he seemed to be even as Brahma râga. Descending from his chariot and advancing with dignity, the king was anxious lest there should be any religious difficulty in the way of instant recognition; and now beholding his beauty he inwardly rejoiced, but his mouth found no words to utter. He reflected, too, how that he was still dwelling among the unconverted throng, whilst his son had advanced and become a saint; and although he was his son, yet as he now occupied the position of a religious lord, he knew not by what name to address him. Furthermore he thought with himself how he had long ago desired earnestly this interview, which now had happened unawares. Meantime his son in silence took a seat, perfectly composed and with unchanged countenance. Thus for some time sitting opposite each other, with no expression of feeling the king reflected thus, "How desolate and sad does he now make my heart, as that of a man, who, fainting, longs for water, upon the road espies a fountain pure and cold; with haste he speeds towards it and longs to drink, when suddenly the spring dries up and disappears. Thus, now I see my son, his well-known features as of old; but how estranged his heart! and how his manner high and lifted up! There are no grateful outflowings of soul, his feelings seem unwilling to express themselves; cold and vacant there he sits; and like a thirsty man before a dried-up fountain so am I."

Still distant thus they sat, with crowding thoughts rushing through the mind, their eyes full met, but no responding joy; each looking at the other, seemed as one thinking of a distant friend who gazes by accident upon his pictured form. "That you," the king reflected, "who of right might rule the world, even as that Mândhâtri râga, should now go begging here and there your food! what joy or charm has such a life as this? Composed and firm as Sumeru, with marks of beauty bright as the sunlight, with dignity of step like the ox king, fearless as any lion, and yet receiving not the tribute of the world, but begging food sufficient for your body's nourishment!"

Buddha, knowing his father's mind, still kept to his own filial purpose. And then to open out his mind, and moved with pity for the multitude of people, by his miraculous power he rose in mid-air and with his hands appeared to grasp the sun and moon. Then he walked to and fro in space, and underwent all kinds of transformation, dividing his body into many parts, then joining all in one again. Treading firm on water as on dry land, entering the earth as in the water, passing through walls of stone without impediment, from the right side and the left water and fire produced! The king, his father, filled with joy, now dismissed all thought of son and father; then upon a lotus throne, seated in space, he (Buddha) for his father's sake declared the law:—

"I know that the king's heart is full of love and recollection, and that for his son's sake he adds grief to grief; but now let the bands of love that bind him, thinking of his son, be instantly unloosed and utterly destroyed. Ceasing from thoughts of love, let your calmed mind receive from me, your son, religious nourishment such as no son has offered yet to father: such do I present to you the king, my father. And what no father yet has from a son received, now from your son you may accept, a gift miraculous for any mortal king to enjoy, and seldom had by any heavenly king! The way superlative of life immortal I offer now the Mahârâga; from accumulated deeds comes birth, and as the result of deeds comes recompense. Knowing then that deeds bring fruit, how diligent should you be to rid yourself of worldly deeds! how careful that in the world your deeds should be only good and gentle! Fondly affected by relationship or firmly bound by mutual ties of love, at end of life the soul goes forth alone—then, only our good deeds befriend us. Whirled in the five ways of the wheel of life, three kinds of deeds produce three kinds of birth, and these are caused by lustful hankering, each kind different in its character. Deprive these of their power by the practice now of proper deeds of body and of word; by such right preparation, day and night strive to get rid of all confusion of the mind and practise silent contemplation; only this brings profit in the end, besides this there is no reality; for be sure! the three worlds are but as the froth and bubble of the sea. Would you have pleasure, or would you practise that which brings it near? then prepare yourself by deeds that bring the fourth birth: but still the five ways in the wheel of birth and death are like the uncertain wandering of the stars; for heavenly beings too must suffer change: how shall we find with men a hope of constancy; Nirvâna! that is the chief rest; composure! that the best of all enjoyments! The five indulgences enjoyed by mortal kings are fraught with danger and distress, like dwelling with a poisonous snake; what pleasure, for a moment, can there be in such a case? The wise man sees the world as compassed round with burning flames; he fears always, nor can he rest till he has banished, once for all, birth, age, and death. Infinitely quiet is the place where the wise man finds his abode; no need of arms or weapons there! no elephants or horses, chariots or soldiers there! Subdued the power of covetous desire and angry thoughts and ignorance, there's nothing left in the wide world to conquer! Knowing what sorrow is, he cuts away the cause of sorrow. This destroyed, by practising right means, rightly enlightened in the four true principles, he casts off fear and escapes the evil ways of birth."

The king when first he saw his wondrous spiritual power of miracle rejoiced in heart; but now his feelings deeply affected by the joy of hearing truth, he became a perfect vessel for receiving true religion, and with clasped hands he breathed forth his praise: "Wonderful indeed! the fruit of your resolve completed thus! Wonderful indeed! the overwhelming sorrow passed away! Wonderful indeed, this gain to me! At first my sorrowing heart was heavy, but now my sorrow has brought forth only profit! Wonderful indeed! for now, to-day, I reap the full fruit of a begotten son. It was right he should reject the choice pleasures of a monarch, it was right he should so earnestly and with diligence practise penance; it was right he should cast off his family and kin; it was right he should cut off every feeling of love and affection. The old Rishi kings boasting of their penance gained no merit; but you, living in a peaceful, quiet place, have done all and completed all; yourself at rest now you give rest to others, moved by your mighty sympathy for all that lives! If you had kept your first estate with men, and as a Kakravartin monarch ruled the world, possessing then no self-depending power of miracle, how could my soul have then received deliverance? Then there would have been no excellent law declared, causing me such joy to-day; no! had you been a universal sovereign, the bonds of birth and death would still have been unsevered, but now you have escaped from birth and death; the great pain of transmigration overcome, you are able, for the sake of every creature, widely to preach the law of life immortal, and to exhibit thus your power miraculous, and show the deep and wide power of wisdom; the grief of birth and death eternally destroyed, you now have risen far above both gods and men. You might have kept the holy state of a Kakravartin monarch; but no such good as this would have resulted." Thus his words of praise concluded, filled with increased reverence and religious love, he who occupied the honored place of a royal father, bowed down respectfully and did obeisance. Then all the people of the kingdom, beholding Buddha's miraculous power, and having heard the deep and excellent law, seeing, moreover, the king's grave reverence, with clasped hands bowed down and worshipped. Possessed with deep portentous thoughts, satiated with sorrows attached to lay-life, they all conceived a wish to leave their homes. The princes, too, of the Sâkya tribe, their minds enlightened to perceive the perfect fruit of righteousness, entirely satiated with the glittering joys of the world, forsaking home, rejoiced to join his company. Ânanda, Nanda, Kin-pi, Anuruddha, Nandupananda, with Kundadana, all these principal nobles and others of the Sâkya family, from the teaching of Buddha became disciples and accepted the law. The sons of the great minister of state, Udâyin being the chief, with all the royal princes following in order became recluses. Moreover, the son of Atalî, whose name was Upâli, seeing all these princes and the sons of the chief minister becoming hermits, his mind opening for conversion, he, too, received the law of renunciation. The royal father seeing his son possessing the great qualities of Riddhi, himself entered on the calm flowings of thought, the gate of the true law of eternal life. Leaving his kingly estate and country, lost in meditation, he drank sweet dew. Practising his religious duties in solitude, silent and contemplative he dwelt in his palace, a royal Rishi. Tathâgata following a peaceable life, recognized fully by his tribe, repeating the joyful news of religion, gladdened the hearts of all his kinsmen hearing him. And now, it being the right time for begging food, he entered the Kapila country; in the city all the lords and ladies, in admiration, raised this chant of praise: "Siddhârtha! fully enlightened! has come back again!" The news flying quickly in and out of doors, the great and small came forth to see him; every door and every window crowded, climbing on shoulders, bending down the eyes, they gazed upon the marks of beauty on his person, shining and glorious! Wearing his Kashâya garment outside, the glory of his person from within shone forth, like the sun's perfect wheel; within, without, he seemed one mass of splendor. Those who beheld were filled with sympathizing joy; their hands conjoined, they wept for gladness; and so they watched him as he paced with dignity the road, his form collected, all his organs well-controlled! His lovely body exhibiting the perfection of religious beauty, his dignified compassion adding to their regretful joy; his shaven head, his personal beauty sacrificed! his body clad in dark and sombre vestment, his manner natural and plain, his unadorned appearance; his circumspection as he looked upon the earth in walking! "He who ought to have had held over him the feather-shade," they said, "whose hands should grasp 'the reins of the flying dragon,' see how he walks in daylight on the dusty road! holding his alms-dish, going to beg! Gifted enough to tread down every enemy, lovely enough to gladden woman's heart, with glittering vesture and with godlike crown reverenced he might have been by servile crowds! But now, his manly beauty hidden, with heart restrained, and outward form subdued, rejecting the much-coveted and glorious apparel, his shining body clad with garments gray, what aim, what object, now! Hating the five delights that move the world, forsaking virtuous wife and tender child, loving the solitude, he wanders friendless; hard, indeed, for virtuous wife through the long night, cherishing her grief; and now to hear he is a hermit! She inquires not now of the royal Suddhodana if he has seen his son or not! But as she views his beauteous person, to think his altered form is now a hermit's! hating his home, still full of love; his father, too, what rest for him! And then his loving child Râhula, weeping with constant sorrowful desire! And now to see no change, or heart-relenting; and this the end of such enlightenment! All these attractive marks, the proofs of a religious calling, whereas, when born, all said, these are marks of a 'great man,' who ought to receive tribute from the four seas! And now to see what he has come to! all these predictive words vain and illusive."

Thus they talked together, the gossiping multitude, with confused accents. Tathâgata, his heart unaffected, felt no joy and no regret. But he was moved by equal love to all the world, his one desire that men should escape the grief of lust; to cause the root of virtue to increase, and for the sake of coming ages, to leave the marks of self-denial behind him, to dissipate the clouds and mists of sensual desire.

He entered, thus intentioned, on the town to beg. He accepted food both good or bad, whatever came, from rich or poor, without distinction; having filled his alms-dish, he then returned back to the solitude.

Receiving the Getavana Vihâra

The lord of the world, having converted the people of Kapilavastu according to their several circumstances, his work being done, he went with the great body of his followers, and directed his way to the country of Kosala, where dwelt King Prasenagit. The Getavana was now fully adorned, and its halls and courts carefully prepared. The fountains and streams flowed through the garden which glittered with flowers and fruit; rare birds sat by the pools, and on the land they sang in sweet concord, according to their kind.

Beautiful in every way as the palace of Mount Kilas, such was the Getavana. Then the noble friend of the orphans, surrounded by his attendants, who met him on the way, scattering flowers and burning incense, invited the lord to enter the Getavana. In his hand he carried a golden dragon-pitcher, and bending low upon his knees he poured the flowing water as a sign of the gift of the Getavana Vihâra for the use of the priesthood throughout the world. The lord then received it, with the prayer that "overruling all evil influences it might give the kingdom permanent rest, and that the happiness of Anâthapindada might flow out in countless streams." Then the king Prasenagit, hearing that the lord had come, with his royal equipage went to the Getavana to worship at the lord's feet. Having arrived and taken a seat on one side, with clasped hands he spake to Buddha thus:—

"O that my unworthy and obscure kingdom should thus suddenly have met such fortune! For how can misfortunes or frequent calamities possibly affect it, in the presence of so great a man? And now that I have seen your sacred features, I may perhaps partake of the converting streams of your teaching. A town although it is composed of many sections, yet both ignoble and holy persons may enter the surpassing stream; and so the wind which fans the perfumed grove causes the scents to unite and form one pleasant breeze; and as the birds which collect on Mount Sumeru are many, and the various shades that blend in shining gold, so an assembly may consist of persons of different capacities: individually insignificant, but a glorious body. The desert master by nourishing the Rishi, procured a birth as the three leg, or foot star; worldly profit is fleeting and perishable, religious profit is eternal and inexhaustible; a man though a king is full of trouble, a common man, who is holy, has everlasting rest."

Buddha knowing the state of the king's heart—that he rejoiced in religion as Sakrarâga—considered the two obstacles that weighted him—viz., too great love of money and of external pleasures, then seizing the opportunity, and knowing the tendencies of his heart, he began, for the king's sake, to preach: "Even those who, by evil karma, have been born in low degree, when they see a person of virtuous character, feel reverence for him; how much rather ought an independent king, who by his previous conditions of life has acquired much merit, when he encounters Buddha, to conceive even more reverence. Nor is it difficult to understand, that a country should enjoy more rest and peace, by the presence of Buddha, than if he were not to dwell therein. And now, as I briefly declare my law, let the Mahârâga listen and weigh my words, and hold fast that which I deliver! See now the end of my perfected merit, my life is done, there is for me no further body or spirit, but freedom from all ties of kith or kin! The good or evil deeds we do from first to last follow us as shadows; most exalted then the deeds of the king of the law. The prince who cherishes his people, in the present life gains renown, and hereafter ascends to heaven; but by disobedience and neglect of duty, present distress is felt and future misery! As in old times Lui-'ma râga, by obeying the precepts, was born in heaven, whilst Kin-pu râga, doing wickedly, at the end of life was born in misery. Now then, for the sake of the great king, I will briefly relate the good and evil law. The great requirement is a loving heart! to regard the people as we do an only son, not to oppress, not to destroy; to keep in due check every member of the body, to forsake unrighteous doctrine and walk in the straight path; not to exalt one's self by treading down others, but to comfort and befriend those in suffering; not to exercise one's self in false theories, nor to ponder much on kingly dignity, nor to listen to the smooth words of false teachers. Not to vex one's self by austerities, not to exceed or transgress the right rules of kingly conduct, but to meditate on Buddha and weigh his righteous law, and to put down and adjust all that is contrary to religion; to exhibit true superiority by virtuous conduct and the highest exercise of reason, to meditate deeply on the vanity of earthly things, to realize the fickleness of life by constant recollection; to exalt the mind to the highest point of reflection, to seek sincere faith (truth) with firm purpose; to retain an inward sense of happiness resulting from one's self, and to look forward to increased happiness hereafter; to lay up a good name for distant ages, this will secure the favor of Tathâgata, as men now loving sweet fruit will hereafter be praised by their descendants. There is a way of darkness out of light, there is a way of light out of darkness; there is darkness which follows after the gloom, there is a light which causes the brightening of light. The wise man, leaving first principles, should go on to get more light; evil words will be repeated far and wide by the multitude, but there are few to follow good direction: It is impossible, however, to avoid result of works, the doer cannot escape; if there had been no first works, there had been in the end no result of doing—no reward for good, no hereafter joy; but because works are done, there is no escape. Let us then practise good works; let us inspect our thoughts that we do no evil, because as we sow so we reap. As when enclosed in a four-stone mountain, there is no escape or place of refuge for anyone, so within this mountain-wall of old age, birth, disease, and death, there is no escape for the world. Only by considering and practising the true law can we escape from this sorrow-piled mountain. There is, indeed, no constancy in the world, the end of the pleasures of sense is as the lightning flash, whilst old age and death are as the piercing bolts; what profit, then, in doing iniquity! All the ancient conquering kings, who were as gods on earth, thought by their strength to overcome decay; but after a brief life they too disappeared. The Kalpa-fire will melt Mount Sumeru, the water of the ocean will be dried up, how much less can our human frame, which is as a bubble, expect to endure for long upon the earth! The fierce wind scatters the thick mists, the sun's rays encircle Mount Sumeru, the fierce fire licks up the place of moisture, so things are ever born once more to be destroyed! The body is a thing of unreality, kept through the suffering of the long night pampered by wealth, living idly and in carelessness, death suddenly comes and it is carried away as rotten wood in the stream! The wise man, expecting these changes, with diligence strives against sloth; the dread of birth and death acts as a spur to keep him from lagging on the road; he frees himself from engagements, he is not occupied with self-pleasing, he is not entangled by any of the cares of life, he holds to no business, seeks no friendships, engages in no learned career, nor yet wholly separates himself from it; for his learning is the wisdom of not-perceiving wisdom, but yet perceiving that which tells him of his own impermanence; having a body, yet keeping aloof from defilement, he learns to regard defilement as the greatest evil. He knows that, though born in the Arûpa world, there is yet no escape from the changes of time; his learning, then, is to acquire the changeless body; for where no change is, there is peace. Thus the possession of this changeful body is the foundation of all sorrow. Therefore, again, all who are wise make this their aim—to seek a bodiless condition; all the various orders of sentient creatures, from the indulgence of lust, derive pain; therefore all those in this condition ought to conceive a heart, loathing lust; putting away and loathing this condition, then they shall receive no more pain; though born in a state with or without an external form, the certainty of future change is the root of sorrow; for so long as there is no perfect cessation of personal being, there can be, certainly, no absence of personal desire; beholding, in this way, the character of the three worlds, their inconstancy and unreality, the presence of ever-consuming pain, how can the wise man seek enjoyment therein? When a tree is burning with fierce flames how can the birds congregate therein? The wise man, who is regarded as an enlightened sage, without this knowledge is ignorant; having this knowledge, then true wisdom dawns; without it, there is no enlightenment. To get this wisdom is the one aim, to neglect it is the mistake of life. All the teaching of the schools should be centred here; without it is no true reason. To recount this excellent system is not for those who dwell in family connection; nor is it, on that account, not to be said, for religion concerns a man individually. Burned up with sorrow, by entering the cool stream, all may obtain relief and ease; the light of a lamp in a dark coom lights up equally objects of all colors, so is it with those who devote themselves to religion—there is no distinction between the professed disciple and the unlearned. Sometimes the mountain-dweller falls into ruin, sometimes the humble householder mounts up to be a Rishi; the want of faith is the engulfing sea, the presence of disorderly belief is the rolling flood. The tide of lust carries away the world; involved in its eddies there is no escape; wisdom is the handy boat, reflection is the hold-fast. The drum-call of religion, the barrier of thought, these alone can rescue from the sea of ignorance."

At this time the king, sincerely attentive to the words of the All-wise, conceived a distaste for the world's glitter and was dissatisfied with the pleasures of royalty, even as one avoids a drunken elephant, or returns to right reason after a debauch. Then all the heretical teachers, seeing that the king was well affected to Buddha, besought the king, with one voice, to call on Buddha to exhibit his miraculous gifts. Then the king addressed the lord of the world: "I pray you, grant their request!" Then Buddha silently acquiesced. And now all the different professors of religion, the doctors who boasted of their spiritual power, came together in a body to where Buddha was; then he manifested before them his power of miracle: ascending up into the air, he remained seated, diffusing his glory as the light of the sun he shed abroad the brightness of his presence. The heretical teachers were all abashed, the people all were filled with faith. Then for the sake of preaching to his mother, he forthwith ascended to the heaven of the thirty-three gods, and for three months dwelt in heavenly mansions. There he converted the occupants of that abode, and having concluded his pious mission to his mother, the time of his sojourn in heaven finished, he forthwith returned, the angels accompanying him on wing; he travelled down a seven-gemmed ladder, and again arrived at Gambudvîpa. Stepping down he alighted on the spot where all the Buddhas return, countless hosts of angels accompanied him, conveying with them their palace abodes as a gift.

The people of Gambudvipa, with closed hands, looking up with reverence, beheld him.

Escaping the Drunken Elephant and Devadatta

Having instructed his mother in heaven with all the angel host, and once more returned to men, he went about converting those capable of it. Gutika, Gîvaka, Sula, and Kûrna, the noble's son Anga and the son of the fearless king Abhaya Nyagrodha and the rest; Srîkutaka, Upâli the Nirgrantha; all these were thoroughly converted. So also the king of Gandhâra, whose name was Fo-kia-lo; he, having heard the profound and excellent law, left his country and became a recluse. So also the demons Himapati and Vâtagiri, on the mountain Vibhâra, were subdued and converted. The Brahmakârin Prayantika, on the mountain Vagana, by the subtle meaning of half a gâtha, he convinced and caused to rejoice in faith; the village of Dânamati had one Kûtadanta, the head of the twice-born Brahmans; at this time he was sacrificing countless victims; Tathâgata by means converted him, and caused him to enter the true path. On Mount Bhatika a heavenly being of eminent distinction, whose name was Pañkasikha, receiving the law, attained Dhyâna; in the village of Vainushta, he converted the mother of the celebrated Nanda. In the town of Añkavari, he subdued the powerful mahâbâla spirit; Bhanabhadra, Sronadanta, the malevolent and powerful Nâgas, the king of the country and his harem, received together the true law, as he opened to them the gate of immortality. In the celebrated Viggi village, Kina and Sila, earnestly seeking to be born in heaven, he converted and made to enter the right path. The Angulimâla, in that village of Sumu, through the exhibition of his divine power, he converted and subdued; there was that noble's son, Purigîvana, rich in wealth and stores as Punavatî, directly he was brought to Buddha, accepting the doctrine, he became vastly liberal. So in that village of Padatti he converted the celebrated Patali, and also Patala, brothers, and both demons. In Bhidhavali there were two Brahmans, one called Great-age, the other Brahma-age. These by the power of a discourse he subdued, and caused them to attain knowledge of the true law; when he came to Vaisâlî, he converted all the Raksha demons, and the lion of the Likkhavis, and all the Likkhavis, Saka the Nirgrantha, all these he caused to attain the true law. Hama kinkhava had a demon Potala, and another Potalaka, these he converted. Again he came to Mount Ala, to convert the demon Alava, and a second called Kumâra, and a third Asidaka; then going back to Mount Gaga he converted the demon Kañgana, and Kamo the Yaksha, with the sister and son. Then coming to Benares, he converted the celebrated Katyâyana; then afterwards going, by his miraculous power, to Sruvala, he converted the merchants Davakin and Nikin, and received their sandalwood hall, exhaling its fragrant odors till now. Going then to Mahîvatî, he converted the Rishi Kapila, and the Muni remained with him; his foot stepping on the stone, the thousand-spoked twin-wheels appeared, which never could be erased.

Then he came to the place Po-lo-na, where he converted the demon Po-lo-na; coming to the country of Mathurâ, he converted the demon Godama. In the Thurakusati he also converted Pindapâla; coming to the village of Vairañga, he converted the Brahman; in the village of Kalamasa, he converted Savasasin, and also that celebrated Agirivasa. Once more returning to the Srâvastî country, he converted the Gautamas Gâtisruna and Dakâtili; returning to the Kosala country, he converted the leaders of the heretics Vakrapali and all the Brahmakârins. Coming to Satavaka, in the forest retreat, he converted the heretical Rishis, and constrained them to enter the path of the Buddha Rishi. Coming to the country of Ayodhyâ, he converted the demon Nâgas; coming to the country of Kimbila, he converted the two Nâgarâgas; one called Kimbila, the other called Kâlaka. Again coming to the Vaggi country, he converted the Yaksha demon, whose name was Pisha, the father and mother of Nâgara, and the great noble also, he caused to believe gladly in the true law. Coming to the Kausârubî country, he converted Goshira, and the two Upasikâs, Vaguttarâ and her companion Uvari; and besides these, many others, one after the other. Coming to the country of Gandhâra he converted the Nâga Apalâla; thus in due order all these air-going, water-loving natures he completely converted and saved, as the sun when he shines upon some dark and sombre cave. At this time Devadatta, seeing the remarkable excellences of Buddha, conceived in his heart a jealous hatred; losing all power of thoughtful abstraction he ever plotted wicked schemes, to put a stop to the spread of the true law; ascending the Gridhrakûta mount he rolled down a stone to hit Buddha; the stone divided into two parts, each part passing on either side of him. Again, on the royal highway he loosed a drunken, vicious elephant. With his raised trunk trumpeting as thunder he ran, his maddened breath raising a cloud around him, his wild pace like the rushing wind, to be avoided more than the fierce tempest; his trunk and tusks and tail and feet, when touched only, brought instant death. Thus he ran through the streets and ways of Râgagriha, madly wounding and killing men; their corpses lay across the road, their brains and blood scattered afar. Then all the men and women filled with fear, remained indoors; throughout the city there was universal terror, only piteous shrieks and cries were heard; beyond the city men were running fast, hiding themselves in holes and dens. Tathâgata, with five hundred followers, at this time came towards the city; from tops of gates and every window, men, fearing for Buddha, begged him not to advance; Tathâgata, his heart composed and quiet, with perfect self-possession, thinking only on the sorrow caused by hate, his loving heart desiring to appease it, followed by guardian angel-nâgas, slowly approached the maddened elephant. The Bhikshus all deserted him, Ânanda only remained by his side; joined by every tie of duty, his steadfast nature did not shake or quail. The drunken elephant, savage and spiteful, beholding Buddha, came to himself at once, and bending, worshipped at his feet just as a mighty mountain falls to earth. With lotus hand the master pats his head, even as the moon lights up a flying cloud. And now, as he lay crouched before the master's feet, on his account he speaks some sacred words: "The elephant cannot hurt the mighty dragon, hard it is to fight with such a one; the elephant desiring so to do will in the end obtain no happy state of birth; deceived by lust, anger, and delusion, which are hard to conquer, but which Buddha has conquered. Now, then, this very day, give up this lust, this anger and delusion! You! swallowed up in sorrow's mud! if not now given up, they will increase yet more and grow."

The elephant, hearing Buddha's words, escaped from drunkenness, rejoiced in heart; his mind and body both found rest, as one athirst finds joy who drinks of heavenly dew. The elephant being thus converted, the people around were filled with joy; they all raised a cry of wonder at the miracle, and brought their offerings of every kind. The scarcely-good arrived at middle-virtue, the middling-good passed to a higher grade, the unbelieving now became believers, those who believed were strengthened in their faith. Agâtasatru, mighty king, seeing how Buddha conquered the drunken elephant, was moved at heart by thoughts profound; then, filled with joy, he found a twofold growth of piety. Tathâgata, by exercise of virtue, exhibited all kinds of spiritual powers; thus he subdued and harmonized the minds of all, and caused them in due order to attain religious truth, and through the kingdom virtuous seeds were sown, as at the first when men began to live. But Devadatta, mad with rage, because he was ensnared by his own wickedness, at first by power miraculous able to fly, now fallen, dwells in lowest hell.

The Lady Âmra Sees Buddha

The lord of the world having finished his wide work of conversion conceived in himself a desire for Nirvana. Accordingly proceeding from the city of Râgagriha, he went on towards the town of Pâtaliputra.

Having arrived there, he dwelt in the famous Pâtali ketiya. Now this town of Pâtaliputra is the frontier town of Magadha, defending the outskirts of the country. Ruling the country was a Brahman of wide renown and great learning in the scriptures; and there was also an overseer of the country, to take the omens of the land with respect to rest or calamity. At this time the king of Magadha sent to that officer of inspection a messenger, to warn and command him to raise fortifications in the neighborhood of the town for its security and protection. And now the lord of the world, as they were raising the fortifications, predicted that in consequence of the Devas and spirits who protected and kept the land, the place should continue strong and free from calamity or destruction. On this the heart of the overseer greatly rejoiced, and he made religious offerings to Buddha, the law, and the church. Buddha now leaving the city gate went on towards the river Ganges. The overseer, from his deep reverence for Buddha, named the gate through which the lord had passed the "Gautama gate." Meanwhile the people all by the side of the river Ganges went forth to pay reverence to the lord of the world. They prepared for him every kind of religious offering, and each one with his gaudy boat invited him to cross over. The lord of the world, considering the number of the boats, feared lest by an appearance of partiality in accepting one, he might hurt the minds of all the rest. Therefore in a moment, by his spiritual power, he transported himself and the great congregation across the river, leaving this shore he passed at once to that, signifying thereby the passage in the boat of wisdom from this world to Nirvâna: a boat large enough to transport all that lives to save the world, even as without a boat he crossed without hindrance the river Ganges. Then all the people on the bank of the river, with one voice, raised a rapturous shout, and all declared this ford should be called the Gautama ford. As the city gate is called the Gautama gate, so this Gautama ford is so known through ages; and shall be so called through generations to come. Then Tathâgata, going forward still, came to that celebrated Kuli village, where he preached and converted many; again he went on to the Nâdi village, where many deaths had occurred among the people. The friends of the dead then came to the lord and asked, "Where have our friends and relatives deceased, now gone to be born, after this life ended?" Buddha, knowing well the sequence of deeds, answered each according to his several needs. Then going forward to Vaisâlî, he located himself in the Âmrâ grove. The celebrated Lady Âmrâ, well affected to Buddha, went to that garden followed by her waiting women, whilst the children from the schools paid her respect. Thus with circumspection and self-restraint, her person lightly and plainly clothed, putting away all her ornamented robes and all adornments of scent and flowers, as a prudent and virtuous woman goes forth to perform her religious duties, so she went on, beautiful to look upon, like any Devî in appearance. Buddha seeing the lady in the distance approaching, spake thus to all the Bhikshus:—

"This woman is indeed exceedingly beautiful, able to fascinate the minds of the religious; now then, keep your recollection straight! let wisdom keep your mind in subjection! Better fall into the fierce tiger's mouth, or under the sharp knife of the executioner, than to dwell with a woman and excite in yourselves lustful thoughts. A woman is anxious to exhibit her form and shape, whether walking, standing, sitting, or sleeping. Even when represented as a picture, she desires most of all to set off the blandishments of her beauty, and thus to rob men of their steadfast heart! How then ought you to guard yourselves? By regarding her tears and her smiles as enemies, her stooping form, her hanging arms, and all her disentangled hair as toils designed to entrap man's heart. Then how much more should you suspect her studied, amorous beauty; when she displays her dainty outline, her richly ornamented form, and chatters gayly with the foolish man! Ah, then! what perturbation and what evil thoughts, not seeing underneath the horrid, tainted shape, the sorrows of impermanence, the impurity, the unreality! Considering these as the reality, all lustful thoughts die out; rightly considering these, within their several limits, not even an Apsaras would give you joy. But yet the power of lust is great with men, and is to be feared withal; take then the bow of earnest perseverance, and the sharp arrow points of wisdom, cover your head with the helmet of right-thought, and fight with fixed resolve against the five desires. Better far with red-hot iron pins bore out both your eyes, than encourage in yourselves lustful thoughts, or look upon a woman's form with such desires. Lust beclouding a man's heart, confused with woman's beauty, the mind is dazed, and at the end of life that man must fall into an 'evil way.' Fear then the sorrow of that 'evil way!' and harbor not the deceits of women. The senses not confined within due limits, and the objects of sense not limited as they ought to be, lustful and covetous thoughts grow up between the two, because the senses and their objects are unequally yoked. Just as when two ploughing oxen are yoked together to one halter and cross-bar, but not together pulling as they go, so is it when the senses and their objects are unequally matched. Therefore, I say, restrain the heart, give it no unbridled license."

Thus Buddha, for the Bhikshus' sake, explained the law in various ways. And now that Âmrâ lady gradually approached the presence of the lord; seeing Buddha seated beneath a tree, lost in thought and wholly absorbed by it, she recollected that he had a great compassionate heart, and therefore she believed he would in pity receive her garden grove. With steadfast heart and joyful mien and rightly governed feelings, her outward form restrained, her heart composed, bowing her head at Buddha's feet, she took her place as the lord bade her, whilst he in sequence right declared the law:—

"Your heart, O lady! seems composed and quieted, your form without external ornaments; young in years and rich, you seem well-talented as you are beautiful. That one, so gifted, should by faith be able to receive the law of righteousness is, indeed, a rare thing in the world! The wisdom of a master derived from former births, enables him to accept the law with joy: this is not rare; but that a woman, weak of will, scant in wisdom, deeply immersed in love, should yet be able to delight in piety, this, indeed, is very rare. A man born in the world, by proper thought comes to delight in goodness, he recognizes the impermanence of wealth and beauty, and looks upon religion as his best ornament. He feels that this alone can remedy the ills of life and change the fate of young and old; the evil destiny that cramps another's life cannot affect him, living righteously; always removing that which excites desire, he is strong in the absence of desire; seeking to find, not what vain thoughts suggest, but that to which religion points him. Relying on external help, he has sorrow; self-reliant, there is strength and joy. But in the case of woman, from another comes the labor, and the nurture of another's child. Thus then should everyone consider well, and loathe and put away the form of woman."

Âmrâ, the lady, hearing the law, rejoiced. Her wisdom strengthened, and still more enlightened, she was enabled to cast off desire, and of herself dissatisfied with woman's form, was freed from all polluting thoughts. Though still constrained to woman's form, filled with religious joy, she bowed at Buddha's feet and spoke: "Oh! may the lord, in deep compassion, receive from me, though ignorant, this offering, and so fulfil my earnest vow." Then Buddha knowing her sincerity, and for the good of all that lives, silently accepted her request, and caused in her full joy, in consequence; whilst all her friends attentive, grew in knowledge, and, after adoration, went back home.